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The apartment was weirdly quiet for once, except for the soft rustle of blankets and the occasional muffled sound from outside—birds chirping, traffic murmuring, a door creaking in the hallway.
Inside, it was still. Peaceful.
Kaveh his nose twitched once, a long ear flopping over his face as he slowly came back to consciousness. He was warm—too warm. But not in a bad way. In the safe way. In the you’re-being-spooned-by-a-large-bodyguard-of-a-boyfriend way.
And said bodyguard’s tail was currently thumping slowly against the sheets, betraying his otherwise still form.
“Alhaitham,” Kaveh grumbled, his voice hoarse with sleep, “are you wagging your tail?”
“Am I not allowed to be happy?” came the gruff reply, voice low against the back of Kaveh’s ear. There was a sleepy smirk in it—Kaveh could hear it. Feel it, almost see it if he wasn't so sleepily and actually opened his eyes.
He grumbled again, more out of habit than complaint, and wriggled back against the taller man. Alhaitham’s grip tightened around his waist like a reflex, pulling him closer.
Dog hybrids. So touchy and clingy in the mornings.
Not that he minded, or would complain. Not really, it was rare for Alhaitham to show much affection so Kaveh always tried savoring it in the morings.
Kaveh made a show of rolling his eyes once he heard that tail wagging for what felt like the millionth. He flopped his ears back, getting them out of his face like one does with just ordinary hair, trying to force his face not to burn with embarrassment. “You always do this. Whenever I wake up I'm trapped under you like you're a heavy.. heavy weighted blanket.”
“You’re warm. And you always stay.” Alhaitham immediately retorted.
“You're insufferable.”
“And you’re soft.”
Kaveh paused at that, ears giving a slow flick. His voice was quieter this time. “Shut up.” though the words he spoke had no real truth to them, he liked Alhaitham’s voice but he had to keep up their morning bricking, it felt as an unbroken routine that they both refused to break and were accustomed too .
He felt Alhaitham’s nose nuzzle behind the nape of his neck in response, warm breath against his skin. The stupid mutt was smug—and affectionate in his own deadpan, irritating way. But Kaveh wouldn’t dare admit that he looked forward to this part of the day, and woke up for everyday for this very reason: being pulled close, swaddled in arms and blankets, hearing the slow rhythm of Alhaitham’s breathing at his back.
They hadn’t planned on this relationship, not really. What had started as a reluctant roommate arrangement had slowly unraveled into something domestic. Intimate. Comfortable in a way that made Kaveh's instincts settle, no matter how chaotic the rest of his life got.
Which was probably why he hadn’t moved out yet, despite the Akademiya giving him plenty of options.
There was safety in scent. Stability in routine. And Alhaitham, irritating as he was, was both.
After a long stretch and a reluctant exit from the bed, Kaveh padded barefoot into the kitchen, oversized hoodie falling off one shoulder. His ears were drooping slightly, as they usually did before his morning dose of caffeine.
Behind him, Alhaitham followed on autopilot—shirtless, tail low and relaxed, eyes still half-closed.
“Don’t hover,” Kaveh muttered, tail twitching behind him.
“I’m not hovering. I’m supervising. You nearly set the kettle on fire last week.”
“That was one time!”
“I’ve logged five incidents this month.”
Kaveh groaned but didn’t argue further. Dog hybrids could be alarmingly detail-oriented—especially the protective types. It was just easier to let Alhaitham watch over him like a paranoid guard dog than waste energy bickering.
He poured the coffee. Or tried to.
His hands trembled slightly. He hadn't slept well. Again.
Alhaitham noticed. Of course he did.
Wordlessly, he reached past Kaveh to take the cup and poured it for him instead, his chest brushing Kaveh’s back as he moved. Then he nudged him toward the couch.
Kaveh went without protest. Again—easier.
“I have that presentation today,” Kaveh muttered later, curled up under a blanket with his tea cooling in his hands. “The one on architectural hybrid integration models. For the cultural committee. Remember?”
“I do,” Alhaitham replied, seated beside him with a notepad in hand. “You practiced it five times yesterday.”
Kaveh’s ears drooped again, his soft smile left his face. “They told me I might not be allowed to speak. Apparently someone on the board thinks ‘a bunny hybrid might not have the authority to represent the Akademiya.’”
He tried to laugh it off, but it came out brittle and forced.
Alhaitham didn’t say anything for a long moment. Just reached over and rubbed a thumb behind Kaveh’s ear in that soft, grounding way that made his chest ache.
“Idiots,” the dog hybrid muttered finally. “If they were smarter, they’d let the best architect in the city represent them. But I’ve never put much faith in herd animals.”
“You’re awful at metaphors,” Kaveh sniffed, burying his face into the throw pillow. But his ears perked a little.
“You’re still presenting,” Alhaitham spoke blankly, but there was a hint of love to his words. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Kaveh removed his head from the pillow and looked at him tilting his head sideways. “What does that mean?”
“It means that if anyone tries to interrupt you,” Alhaitham said calmly, “I will growl. Loudly.”
Kaveh stared, his smile coming back as he giggled before speaking. “You wouldn’t.”
Alhaitham stared back into Kaveh’s green eyes. “I would.”
Kaveh blinked. Then broke into a full on laugh—real this time. Ears floppy with amusement.
“You are the most unhinged watchdog I’ve ever met,” he said.
“And you’re my rabbit,” Alhaitham said simply.
Kaveh’s breath hitched. He wasn’t expecting that. Neither of them said things like that often—not directly.
It shut him up fast.
That night, Kaveh crawled into bed first, stealing all the blankets out of habit. He curled up in a ball and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long, He never did though.
The mattress dipped behind him, and then warm arms slid around his waist, tugging him backward until his spine met familiar warmth. Alhaitham’s tail draped lazily over his thigh, and his chin rested on Kaveh’s shoulder.
“Warm,” Alhaitham murmured.
“Predictable,” Kaveh whispered back.
He didn’t try to move. He didn’t want to. He was safe. Buried in warmth and scent and someone who always noticed. Always protected. Even when Kaveh pretended he didn’t need it.
“…You’re still wagging your tail,” he mumbled.
“Still happy.”
Kaveh hid his face in the pillow, ears burning, tail twitching.
He didn't say it, but it was mutual.