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“Al-Haitham,” an energetic shout of his name from the doorway followed by sounds of hastily thrown off shoes and the clanking of a key promptly jostles Al-Haitham from his deep reading. He’d spent the better half of the afternoon in this position, slumped against the divan in his living room, one leg propped up on the other as he pored over the pages of a book he’d been meaning to get around too. It wasn’t every day that he had the house to himself, and he had planned to make the most of the peace before it would evidently all come tumbling down. “Haitham,” he hears again, this time clearer and more breathy as the speaker drew near. Kaveh’s home.
“Guess what I did today.” Kaveh asks him excitedly, a great big smile plastered on his fair features. The blonde promptly helps himself to the empty space beside Al-Haitham -- directly, beside him -- and immediately gets comfortable. The living area was fairly spacious, fitting a couple well sized seating areas as well as an equally sizable coffee table that spanned the center of the room, this is to say there were plenty of other spots open and available, and yet Kaveh had still opted to squeeze himself into Al-Haitham’s limited space. Without so much as a sideways glance, Kaveh pulls his legs up and under him while he busied his hands un-pinning then re-pinning the clips holding up his slightly mussed hair. His skin glistened somewhat in the evening sun, the window of his blouse hanging open for just about anyone to see. But who was looking.
“I assume you are going to tell me regardless--”
“The traveler very kindly invited me into their teapot today,”
“--so I don’t see the point in asking me to guess.”
“It was really something else, nothing like I’ve ever seen before,” Kaveh continues, choosing to ignore Al-Haitham’s unenthused response. This wasn’t so uncommon for them; Kaveh barreling home to find Al-Haitham occupied by one book or other, then proceeding to regal the happenings of his day knowing with full confidence that the latter would be far too distracted by his ramblings to keep reading.
Kaveh was waving his arms around and gesturing shapes with slender fingers, describing in detail what had caught his eye and what he personally would have changed. “You wouldn’t believe it,” he shifts his torso a bit more to the left, inching ever so slightly to face Al-Haitham as he spoke. “When I’d asked why the traveler decided to arrange the buildings the way they did, they said it was a whim. Completely unplanned.” Kaveh exclaims wide eyed, as if he had never heard anything more absurd.
“And that’s when it struck me, the strangely spaced furnishings, the items that served virtually no purpose other than to clutter; the entire abode was robbed of principle.” He crossed his arms at this, seemingly have come to a conclusion of sorts all on his own. Al-Haitham hadn’t said even a word in the entire exchange, but how could he? When Kaveh’s tangent was more than enough conversation for the both of them.
“Oh, you just have to see it for yourself,” Kaveh sighs as he finally allows himself to relax into the cushioning. “Maybe I’ll put in a good word for you next time.” Kaveh nudges at Al-Haitham then, no doubt pleased by his own generosity.
“No need, I’ve seen it.” Al-Haitham absentmindedly flips a page in his book despite having reread the same line over and over since Kaveh had entered the house. It had taken everything in him not to breach Kaveh’s space as Kaveh had done to Al-Haitham’s, to lean into the melody of his voice as he spoke. Al-Haitham kept his eyes forward and away from Kaveh’s figure lest he finds himself unable to stop boring into the depths of carmine.
“Oh, but of course you’ve already seen it.” Kaveh mutters under his breath. Al-Haitham can already picture the stitch in the blonde’s brows, see out of the corner of his vision the exaggerated pout of his lips.
“Well, consider this a prospective invitation back, extended by yours truly.” There’s a huff as Kaveh straightens himself in his seat, arms crossed and features down turned in content.
“Taking it upon yourself to grant others entry into someone else’s home, are you?” Al-Haitham nods his head in Kaveh’s direction. “I do hope for my own sake that this is a recent habit you’ve developed.”
Kaveh spins his head and scoffs, an irate pink dusting the surface of his cheeks.
“Wipe that smug look off your face, Haravatat, I am trying to be courteous.” Kaveh throws his legs back over the edge of his seat, twisting away from Al-Haitham in a fit. His hair falls elegantly passed his shoulders despite the few tangles here and there. With his scarf discarded somewhere on the other side of the room, Kaveh’s neck looked barren. The window of his shirt hangs low in the back just as it does in the front, the skin that peaks through is tanned from the long days the architect had probably spent out on projects in the desert. A slight arch donned his senior’s lower back, outlining his spine in a way that was hard to miss. There was no denying that objectively, Kaveh was very attractive. No one would hold it against him if Al-Haitham spared more than a few extra glances ogling appreciating the view.
“Like I was saying,” it took Al-Haitham a moment to realize that they had not finished whatever conversation Kaveh had initiated. “It will take me a few days but I’m sure to reap the benefits once it’s all finished.”
“What?” Al-Haitham trains his eyes away from the way Kaveh’s sleeves are rolled passed his elbows, exposing soft, smooth skin, and back to the page he’s been on for the last ten minutes.
“The teapot, the traveler has offered to let me stay with them.”
Al-Haitham all but drops the book right out of his hands. He finally turns to look at Kaveh, rose-red pupils already eyeing him uneasily. When you’ve known someone for long enough, spent the majority of your formative years studying with them, conversing, arguing, living with them, you learn to discern all and every emotion that could ever cross their face. Al-Haitham has spent more nights then he can count in the House of Daena, chastising his senior for once again crying over a project, an assignment, a test. Spent precious minutes laughing with him as they sprinted through hallways they shouldn’t be in, hours debating with him over anything, everything, nothing at all, until the two of them collapsed against library chairs in exhaustion. In satisfaction. Al-Haitham knew Kaveh like he knew his reflection. There wasn’t a single thing the genius architect could say, could do, to surprise Al-Haitham this late in the game.
But the expression Kaveh held now, the words he’d just spoken into their otherwise quiet home as if he himself didn’t quite believe them, Al-Haitham wasn’t sure what to make of it. All he could do was stare, spell bound and stumped.
To keep this concise, Al-Haitham could no longer imagine a life without Kaveh, a home without him. More often than not, the two bickered and argued over the littlest of things, but even these disputes Al-Haitham had come to enjoy, come to look forward to. To love. Sure, there were days were he enjoyed tranquility in silence. There were days Kaveh spent out of the house, leaving quiet in his wake. But he always came back. Had he been to hard on Kaveh lately? Had he said one too many things out of turn? “When,” his voice came out hoarse, hurried. Al-Haitham cursed himself silently as he cleared his throat. “When do you leave.”
Kaveh chuckles lightly, a drab, unlively sound that was more akin to a gasp then laughter. “Don’t be so quick to get rid of me, you’ll hurt my feelings.” The comment is dry and unfeeling as Kaveh leans away from Al-Haitham, legs coming back up towards his chest while he rests his chin upon a propped elbow. Kaveh won’t meet Al-Haitham’s eyes, he won’t turn his face at all. Al-Haitham clenches and unclenches his fists, feeling the clamminess as irrational anxiety washes over him. What he would do to take Kaveh’s head in his hands and watch his senior’s emotions give him away.
“I do not wish to be rid of you.” Al-Haitham realizes too late as the words leave his lips and hang there in the open for the both of them to gawk at. Crimson eyes meeting emerald as the two wait for something, anything to be said. Kaveh’s lips are parted somewhat, eyes widening by the second. All Al-Haitham can do to keep any semblance of dignity is break their gaze and to fixate on his book, which he notices is not right side up, but doesn’t bother to reorient it for fear of exposing the shakiness in his hands. Slowly and quietly as to keep his voice level, he begins, “I don’t--”
Abrupt and airy laughter breaks Al-Haitham out of his trance, and he turns to see Kaveh clutching his sides in amusement. His roomate seems to be rather entertained by the notion of Al-Haitham’s sudden heartfelt confession. “Oh, what is so funny.” Al-Haitham can’t help the sliver of irritation spiking his tone, or the way he feels his cheeks rise in temperature as he attempts to distract himself with the very upside down words of his book.
“Nothing,” Kaveh manages to quickly squeeze out as he tries and fails to calm his outburst of joy. Finally catching his breath, he starts, “It’s nothing, I just didn’t think you had it in you to be sentimental.” Kaveh finishes his thought with a flush, standing from his seat and brushing off the non-existent dust on his clothing. He turns to meet Al-Haitham then, both hands on his hips as he continues, “Don’t worry, dear junior, the traveler’s invitation only spans the few days I offered my services to spruce up the abode. I’d be back before you even finished that book.” Kaveh gestures nonchalantly at the still reversed novel in Al-Haitham’s hand before making his way to the kitchen. Al-Haitham stands up too, not fully processing the exchange but not too keen in having it end where it did.
“You aren’t moving out?” is the first thing Al-Haitham is able to ask as he watches Kaveh prepare himself a snack. Kaveh pauses by the cabinet for a second before whirling around, flabbergasted. The shock on Kaveh’s face was so evident Al-Haitham was worried he had pronounced his undying love rather then a simple question of residence. Not that he’d ever pronounce such a thing.
“You thought I was moving out?” Kaveh responds to his question with a question. Al-Haitham can tell the cogs were turning in the architects mind. It was more often Kaveh that is left with nothing to say during their frequent arguments, not the other way around. Al-Haitham wasn’t used to being put on the spot. Kaveh makes his way around the table and plops into the stool before Al-Haitham, spinning around so they were eye to eye, still awaiting a response. He cocks his head and smiles, smug and snobby and sweet and sultry and--
“Is the Scribe at a loss for words?” Kaveh is still grinning as he watches Al-Haitham, gauging his reaction.
“You made it sound like you’d be leaving.” Al-Haitham does not enjoy the way he sounds, dejected and whiny, like a petulant child cross with their parent for not allowing them a new toy. He looks down at Kaveh’s quirked lips, mapping out the way each corner curls upwards and reaches his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d be staring until Kaveh subtly clears his throat with a fist to his mouth.
“I’m not going anywhere, Haitham,” if it wasn’t the pet name that numbed his nerves and turned his legs to stone, it was the way Kaveh took Al-Haitham’s hand into his own, running those slender fingers up and down his wrist and forearm in a manner so soothing as if to console him. Petulant child. “Don’t give me that look.”
Al-Haitham heaves a sigh when Kaveh drops his hand, swearing at the way he immediately yearns for the warmth, for the silky touch of those unblemished hands against his own. “What look?” He manages, eyes never leaving the way blonde strands of hair fall forwards over thick lashes. Would it feel as soft as it looked if Al-Haitham ran his hands through them?
Kaveh lifts his head -- finally -- to match Al-Haitham’s own intense gaze, those blood red eyes unwavering in the evening sun that streamed through the stained glass windows of their home. Al-Haitham steps further into the space between them, until he could slot one leg between Kaveh’s own seated ones. Kaveh unconsciously backs into the dining table, resting on both of his elbows as he looks up at Al-Haitham’s impossibly close face now hovering just above him. “What do I look like?” Al-Haitham reaches for Kaveh’s hands and elates in the way they fit so perfectly into his, like they belonged there, like they were two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together.
“Like you want me to stay.” Kaveh breathes the reply. His eyes shift back and forth between Al-Haitham’s own and the tips of his lips, now parted and mere inches away. Al-Haitham takes this chance to bring Kaveh’s arms up and over his head, effectively pressing the latter flat against the table with a startled gasp. Al-Haitham fills the space between them, leaning over his senior so they were almost chest to chest. Kaveh brought his knees up just enough to balance himself in such a compromising position, but this meant brushing either side of Al-Haitham’s waist with his thighs. Enough was enough.
“Haitham,” Kaveh sighs his name, seemingly out of breath despite having done nothing to warrant such breathlessness. Al-Haitham wasn’t faring any better as he watched the rise and fall of Kaveh’s chest, focusing on the way his wrists squirmed slightly against his grip, the way Kaveh’s thighs would accidentally bump into him only to be pulled away as if Al-Haitham was scalding, the way his lips trembled and his eyes were lidded and watery and the way he smelled so sweet
“Al-Haitham.” Kaveh says again, more urgent and critical this time as he twists his head to the side, cutting off Al-Haitham’s perfect view. Al-Haitham reached his free hand to gently push Kaveh’s face back into position, heart lurching at how his eyes had hardened into a sharp gaze, like daggers coated in blood, pointed at Al-Haitham in challenge. Al-Haitham knew an angry comment or two was bound to follow, so he cut Kaveh off quickly so as to keep the moment of serenity for as long as he could.
The kiss was swift. Sudden. Fleeting as if it never even happened. Al-Haitham almost thinks it didn’t happen, but Kaveh’s stunned features and lack of reprimanding convinced him otherwise.
“I want you,” Al-Haitham says hastily, his voice coarse and throaty as he observes the way Kaveh freezes in surprise. Ruby eyes widened in shock, lips parted in awe, cheeks flushed so bright it rivaled the glow of the setting sun. Oh, to live in that expression. “To stay.” Al-Haitham polishes his thought. “Kaveh, I want you to stay.” He lowers his head and loosens his grip on Kaveh before letting him go completely, pulling back reluctantly so to give his senior space. No matter how desperate, how depraved he had felt in the moment, Al-Haitham never should have pushed Kaveh down the way he did. Should have never claimed his lips for his own like some sort of animal. If he hadn’t planned on leaving the house before, Kaveh was sure to have the idea cross his mind now. An apology already on his tongue, Al-Haitham clears his throat and lifts his face only to feel warm lips come crashing into his own.
Eventually realizing that this was in fact happening, that Kaveh was pressing hurried kisses upon his lips, was returning his kiss, Al-Haitham wraps his arms around Kaveh’s waist, yet another puzzle piece that fit perfectly. Kissing him back in equal fervor, Al-Haitham relishes in the way Kaveh hums a high pitched sound of content as he slides his tongue further into his roommate’s heat. The two stumble about carelessly out of the kitchen and back into the living room where they’d been having civil conversation only moments prior.
Less then gracefully, Kaveh breaks their kiss to the dismay of his unpleased and verbally opposed counterpart before shoving Al-Haitham onto the divan. Before he can protest, Kaveh quickly climbs over the disgruntled scribe, expertly straddling him before resuming their previous frenzied activity. Al-Haitham isn’t too enthused about being pushed around like a sack of meat, but if it meant Kaveh would keep kissing him, so be it. They continued like this, lips on lips, on neck, on skin, until both had memorized the expanse of the other’s body. They were wearing far less clothing than when they had started, neither of them really caring. Al-Haitham, breathless and satisfied, collapses into a pile atop Kaveh who is not very eager for this arrangement of limbs.
“You are very heavy, Mr. Feeble scholar.” Kaveh taps on his shoulders to get him to remove himself, which only deters Al-Haitham further. Both arms wrapped tightly around Kaveh, Al-Haitham stands to his full height. Kaveh yelps, arms desperately gripping around Al-Haitham’s neck while his legs do the same around Al-Haitham’s waist.
“Don’t struggle, this feeble scholar might just drop you.” Al-Haitham snickers to himself as he hears a scoff, followed by a tightening grip and a hastened heart beat pressed against his bare chest. He trudges towards the bathroom, running a bath and setting aside some wash cloths all while holding Kaveh ever closer. Placing Kaveh ever so gently into the heated tub first, Al-Haitham slowly sinks in behind him so the two are back to chest, with Kaveh huddled between his legs. They both let out a relaxed sigh, letting the water wash away the evidence of their passionate escapade.
Kaveh leans his head into the curve of Al-Haitham’s neck and shoulder, shutting his eyes and letting himself drift between sleep and wakefulness. “I meant it.” Al-Haitham’s voice reverberates in the enclosed space, pulling Kaveh out of his drowsiness. He hums, eyes fluttering open as Al-Haitham holds him closer. “When I told you to stay.”
Blonde hair tilts up to look at him, a soft smile coming to find its home on Kaveh’s face. Al-Haitham hopes it never leaves. “I know.” Kaveh whispers into his neck, placing a kiss there as if to seal its unbreaking promise. “I’ll stay.”