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Kaveh is drinking at the tavern when an old colleague shows up.
He hasn’t seen Kareem in years; he does most of his research in the rainforest and doesn’t stop by the city often. So Kaveh is excited to see him, and invites him to his table, where Kaveh is roughly three-quarters of a wine bottle deep. Kareem sits down across from him gladly as they catch up.
The problem, of course, is that Kaveh is three-quarters of a wine bottle deep, so he can’t help but trip over and slur his words occasionally. He also ends up ranting about his latest lost client to Kareem, who sits there and listens patiently instead of doing what anyone else might have done, which is making an excuse to escape the dangerously drunk lunatic ranting and raving at a man he hadn’t seen in almost five years.
It’s at a lull in the conversation that Kareem finally speaks up.
“You know, Kaveh, I have something that might help you.”
“Is it a bunch of Mora and a new house?” Kaveh drunkenly asks. Kareem’s lips twitch as if he’s laughing at him.
“Ah, no. But it’s… well, there’s this certain herb a lot of people in the rainforest use to help them calm down and relax. I think it would help you.”
“Hm. Tighnari’s never mentioned anything like that before.”
“Yes, well, the Forest Rangers are maybe a little too… professional for it. It’s kind of like alcohol, it’s not for everyone.”
That gets Kaveh interested. “Like alcohol, hm? Do you drink it?”
“No. There’s a few ways to imbibe it, but I’ve found that baking with it really increases the effects.”
“Baking with it?”
“Yes. Here, I have some with me.” He pulls out a wrapped package from his bag and leaves it in the middle of the table. “You can have this, if you want. I have a lot more back at home. But listen, if you do want to try it, only eat half of this, okay? It can be pretty strong, especially if you’ve never had it before.”
“What does it taste like?”
Kareem makes a face. “It tastes more like the herb than anything else. I’ve been experimenting with different recipes to try and make it taste like something else. I made a pudding that was pretty good, actually. This one I baked with a Charcoal-Baked Ajilenakh Cake, but the herbal taste is pretty overpowering. Still, I think it would be beneficial to you, if you wanted to try. And if you like it, you can always write to me for more. I’ll leave you my address!”
“Thank you, Kareem. I think I’d like to try. In fact, I’ll have some now! If I don’t like the taste I can wash it down with some wine.”
He unwraps the pastry on the table. It looks like any regular Charcoal-Baked Ajilenakh Cake, and he carefully splits it in two before he takes a nibble. It does taste a little off, a little grassy, maybe, but it isn’t too bad. He finishes off the cake with ease and wipes his mouth delicately.
“So? How was it?”
“Pretty good! I can definitely taste the herb, but I wouldn’t say it’s overpowering.”
“Oh, good. My first few attempts were a disaster.”
They continue to talk until Kaveh realizes what time it is, and with horror realizes Alhaitham will likely come looking for him soon if he doesn’t get home. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of an old friend, he makes his excuses.
“Just as well, I’d better be getting back too,” Kareem says. “It was so nice to catch up with you, Kaveh! Oh, here’s my address in the rainforest,” he scribbles something out on a napkin. “Write to me, would you? And not just if you want more of the herb. I’d love to hear more about what you’re up to.”
“Yes, of course! Wonderful to see you, Kareem.”
Kareem takes his leave as Kaveh hails down Lambad to tell him to add the total to his tab. He’ll have to beg Alhaitham to pay it off again, but it was worth it for some wine.
He’s just about to tuck the rest of the Charcoal-Baked Ajilenakh Cake away when he stops. He’d taken the first half of the cake quite a while ago and wasn’t feeling anything. Surely it would have kicked in by now? Unless Kaveh’s tolerance was higher than Kareem had thought. Maybe years of drinking wine had made him slightly more tolerant to mind-altering substances. With that thought, he quickly finishes off the cake, brushing off his hands and throwing the wrapping out as he exits the tavern.
He walks home. He wonders what Alhaitham will say when he sees him. He’ll probably scold Kaveh for staying out late and keeping him up, no matter how many times Kaveh tells him he doesn’t need to wait up for him.
He’d remembered his key this time, and he tries to be quiet when he unlocks the door, but he drops the keys on the ground. Giggling slightly to himself, he opens the door and enters quietly. The house is dark and silent, and Kaveh tiptoes inside. Maybe Alhaitham is asleep for once.
Kaveh makes his way to the kitchen, getting dishes and ingredients. He’s just about to make himself a meat stew when someone from behind him says, in a very disapproving voice, “What in archon’s name are you doing?”
Kaveh jumps nearly a foot in the air and clutches at his heart as he spins around to face Alhaitham. “Alhaitham!” he shouts. “It’s very rude to sneak up on people.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m making a meat stew, if you must know.”
“Do I need to remind you of what time it is?”
“Yes, I know it’s late. It’s just that I find myself starving, for some reason.”
Alhaitham studies him with his arms crossed. He’s in his sleep clothes, a loose shirt and pants instead of his usual skin tight attire, and Kaveh finds himself missing the man’s utterly ridiculous see through top. If Alhaitham were going to have the abs he did, the least he could do is put them on display for wandering eyes.
Kaveh shakes his head sharply. He doesn’t normally allow these thoughts room in his mind.
He’s not sure what Alhaitham sees when he studies Kaveh, but he doesn’t look happy about it, whatever it is. “You don’t seem drunk,” Alhaitham says suspiciously. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me!” Alhaitham’s eyes narrow. “Okay, fine, if you must know, I ran into an old acquaintance at Lambad’s. Do you remember Kareem? Anyway, he sat with me for a while and recommended something that he said would help me relax.” He frowns down at his stew. “I don’t remember him saying it would make me hungry, though.”
Alhaitham sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “And do you normally take offerings from people you haven’t seen in half a decade?”
“Oh come on, it’s Kareem! You remember Kareem. It’s harmless.”
“I’ve heard of this, Kaveh. I wouldn’t call it harmless.”
“Oh, please. I don’t see how it’s any different from wine, and you have no trouble watching me get drunk once a week.”
“Once a week? Are we lying to ourselves, now?”
Kaveh scowls. “I really do hate you sometimes,” he mutters, turning back to his stew. Alhaitham sighs again.
“Whatever. Don’t come crying to me when it kicks in.”
“When what kicks in?” But Alhaitham has already turned to go back to his room. “Alhaitham! When what kicks in?”
But Alhaitham is gone. Kaveh shakes his head and sits down to absolutely tear into his stew.
Kaveh finishes his stew, stands up, and almost promptly falls over.
His balance is off, and he’s feeling… weird. His head is fuzzy, but not like when he’s drunk, and his limbs feel like they’re not a part of him. He heads to the sink to wash his bowl, because Alhaitham would absolutely kill him if he left it, but he can’t focus. The water is too hot, and the bowl keeps slipping out of his grasp.
The third or fourth time he drops it, he hears stomping coming from behind him.
“I know I’ve asked you this before, but it bears repeating: do you know what time it is?”
Kaveh turns around, swaying slightly on his feet. “‘Lhaitham,” he says. “I don’t feel too well.”
Alhaitham studies him with an impassive face. After a moment he sighs heavily and heads over to where Kaveh is still holding the bowl, taking it from him and placing it in the sink. Then he grabs Kaveh by the arm and pulls him with him towards the sitting room, onto one of the divans. Alhaitham sits next to him as Kaveh slumps, knees touching.
“This is why you don’t accept things from strangers.”
“Kareem isn’t a stranger,” Kaveh argues. “And he did tell me to only eat half. I ate the whole thing.”
“For someone so smart, you sure do make inane decisions.”
“Shut up,” Kaveh says intelligently. He leans forward and places his head between his legs, but that doesn’t really help. All it does is make the room spin.
A tentative hand lands on his back and rubs. He jumps, not expecting it, and the hand retreats.
“No, do that again,” he says before he can think better of it, and after a moment Alhaitham’s hand is on his back again, rubbing gently, the occasional graze of his fingers through the back window of Kaveh’s shirt making him shudder.
Such intimacy is forbidden between them now. Maybe not forbidden, but certainly out of place. It didn’t used to be; when they were students Kaveh was touchy with Alhaitham, tugging on his hair or his ear, poking him in the chest, squeezing his cheeks, even going so far as to rest with his head on Alhaitham’s shoulder. They lost that, just like they lost so many other things. It makes Kaveh sad to think about.
That sadness is the only reason he can think of for what he does next, which is: he lays down with his legs curled up on the divan and his head in Alhaitham’s lap.
Alhaitham’s entire body goes still beneath him, but Kaveh doesn’t notice much. Alhaitham’s thigh is muscular beneath his head, a reminder that he isn’t the pudgy junior Kaveh had once known. Kaveh takes a long breath as he settles into Alhaitham’s lap, eyes falling closed. It’s nice, being horizontal. Makes his brain quiet down.
“Alhaitham.”
“Hm.”
If Kaveh were sober he would notice the strain in Alhaitham’s voice. As it is, he doesn’t. All he says is, “Pet my hair.”
A beat. Alhaitham says, “You’re quite demanding like this,” but then long fingers curl into his hair, smoothing out the messy strands before petting down the back. They remove the clips from Kaveh’s hair and place them on the divan beside them, and Kaveh lets out a noise of contentment as Alhaitham continues to pet him. His hands are gentle and soothing, and Kaveh lets himself sink into it, sighing as he settles himself more comfortably in Alhaitham’s lap.
Kaveh isn’t sure how long they stay like that. Time has ceased to mean much to him. It could be minutes or hours. It could be days. All he knows is that the buzzing in his brain dies down with Alhaitham’s fingers slowly caressing him, and he doesn’t feel quite as lost.
Eventually, though, Alhaitham’s steady voice breaks the reverie. “Kaveh. You should get to bed and sleep this off.”
It sounds like a good idea, but there’s one major problem: “I don’t think I can move right now.”
There’s a beat as Alhaitham presumably considers this. Then the hand that had been petting through Kaveh’s hair moves beneath his head and lifts, lifting Kaveh up from his lap.
“Hey!” Kaveh bristles like a startled cat, as the bad feelings come storming back in. “What are you doing?”
Alhaitham chooses to answer with his actions instead of his words. He maneuvers them and then physically lifts Kaveh, one arm braced on his back and one arm under his knees as he moves him off the divan. Kaveh flails slightly before he settles with his arms flung around Alhaitham’s neck. He sticks his nose in Alhaitham’s neck and inhales deeply, and he misses the way the younger man shudders.
“You smell good,” he mumbles.
“I am bringing you to bed,” Alhaitham says firmly. “You are going to sleep this off, and you are not going to accept strange gifts ever again.”
“You’re not my mother,” Kaveh says petulantly. “And it wasn’t strange, I know Kareem.” But there isn’t much he can do in Alhaitham’s arms, and even if he could squirm out of the embrace, a guilty, greedy part of him doesn’t want to. Alhaitham doesn’t even seem to struggle with Kaveh’s weight, those ridiculous muscles flexing as he hauls Kaveh to his bedroom. He lowers him gently to the bed and even goes so far as to bring the blankets up, tucking Kaveh in. He’s still in his regular clothes, something that will bother him in the morning, but for now he can’t be assed to try to change.
“Goodnight, Kaveh.”
Kaveh’s arm snakes out faster than his brain can move right now and he grabs onto Alhaitham’s arm. “Will you stay?” he’s asking before he can think better of it. “I just, I really don’t feel well and I don’t like it and I don’t want to be alone.” Truth spills from his lips before he can think better of it.
He’s expecting Alhaitham to brush him off; instead he looks down at where Kaveh is curled pathetically up in his bed and then nods. He crosses to the other side of the bed and pulls back the blankets before he crawls in, warm body settling in next to Kaveh’s. Kaveh immediately tries to burrow into that warmth, not caring one ounce for proprietary or self-respect or the fact that they don’t do this as he cuddles up next to Alhaitham. Alhaitham hesitates for a moment before he wraps an arm around Kaveh, fingers brushing the bare skin at Kaveh’s back. He shivers at the touch and burrows closer, and their legs tangle together under the blankets.
Kaveh’s mind is spiralling even as his body begins to relax. Being so close to Alhaitham is dizzying, or maybe he’s just dizzy; either way his head is spinning, and his thoughts are spinning along with it. His brain jumps around from topic to topic; his debt, his living arrangements, the fact that he’s in love with the man next to him. That in particular really catches his attention, and he gets stuck in a loop of thinking about Alhaitham and their history. Of how they used to be, of their fallout, of Alhaitham finding him half passed out at Lambad’s and offering him a place to stay. It’s not something Kaveh tends to think about often. The memories burn inside him.
And still Alhaitham continues to rub his back, fingers occasionally heading up to pet his hair. It’s so intensely soothing, and more intimate than anything they’d maybe ever done. They’d never had anything like this when they were students, even though they were closer then than they are now.
“Alhaitham,” he says before he even really realizes it. “Do you ever think about our fight?”
A ripped thesis. A shattered dream. A best friend lost.
Alhaitham’s hand does not stop his steady rubbing, but it takes him a moment to answer. Eventually he says, simply, “Yes.”
Surprising. Kaveh had thought he wasn’t a sentimental type. “Do you ever regret it?”
“Yes,” comes the answer once again.
“Do you ever wish we could go back and change things?”
Alhaitham’s fingers tangle in his hair. “There’s no changing the past, Kaveh. And anyway, I’m happy enough with where we’re at now.”
“Happy? With me crashing in your guest room?”
The fingers in his hair twitch. “It’s not my guest room,” Alhaitham says. “It’s your room in our house.”
And Kaveh doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to that.
Thankfully, he doesn't have to say anything. The hand on his head pushes him in close so his face is buried in Alhaitham’s neck again. Kaveh wraps his arm around Alhaitham’s waist and breathes in deeply again, relishing in that minty, forest-y smell of Alhaitham’s soap. “Go to sleep, Kaveh,” he says softly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
With that promise and the feeling of Alhaitham around him, Kaveh sinks into sleep.
Kaveh wakes up.
He’s expecting the usual aspects of a hangover—dry mouth, pounding headache, a deep sense of regret for the night before—but to his surprise he feels none of that. Not even the regret.
Instead he feels warm. That probably comes from Alhaitham, who is still wrapped around him. His arm is snug around Kaveh’s waist and his breath ruffles Kaveh’s hair. Kaveh pulls back slightly, just the smallest amount so as not to wake him, enough to study his sleeping face.
Alhaitham looks younger in sleep. His hair is deflated, flopping in front of his closed eyes, and his breathing is steady and even. He looks beautiful; he always does, but something about him like this, with the lines of his face smoothed out and his sharpness turned soft makes Kaveh’s heart flip flop in his chest. It’s not the first time they’ve woken up together—sometimes when he’s drunk Kaveh will collapse into Alhaitham’s bed—but it’s the first time they’ve woken up so tightly intertwined.
“Stop looking at me,” Alhaitham says sleepily. Kaveh nearly jumps a foot in the air at the sound of his voice in the quiet of the bedroom.
“How could you possibly know I was doing that?”
“I know everything.”
“Hm. Humble, too.”
The corners of Alhaitham’s lips quirk up. He was always more unguarded just after waking up. “How do you feel?”
He still has an arm around Kaveh’s waist, has made no motion to move away. Kaveh sighs and sinks deeper into the pillow and Alhaitham’s embrace.
“Better. I—apologize for last night. The way I acted was disgraceful.”
“You were quite clingy.”
“Alhaitham! Don’t embarrass me more.”
Alhaitham opens his eyes finally. They’re soft in the early morning light. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You had a bad trip, that’s all.”
Kaveh narrows his eyes. “You’re being uncharacteristically nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you,” Alhaitham grumbles. “Even when you do stupid things.”
“Yes, yes, you’ve already reprimanded me for it. I still won’t apologize. I trust Kareem.” Alhaitham scowls. “Does that bother you? That I trust Kareem?”
“You’re too trusting. That’s what bothers me.”
“Nothing bad came of it.”
“Because I was there to take care of you,” Alhaitham says. “What if I wasn’t?”
“Haitham,” Kaveh says. “You always are.”
He realizes it’s true as he says it. That fateful day at Lambad’s; each subsequent drunken night out, when Alhaitham comes to fetch him, pays off his tab and holds him up as he stumbles home; last night, a gentle hand playing in his hair as Kaveh spiraled. These were only a few examples, but Kaveh can think of many more. That time he’d gotten sick and Alhaitham had nursed him back to health, cleaned out his puke bucket and gotten him medicine. The times he stays up late and Alhaitham makes sure he gets to bed. The Interdarshan Championship.
Alhaitham had been right. He is always nice to him, in his weird Alhaitham way.
Alhaitham looks at him. “One day I won’t be.”
“I don’t believe that,” Kaveh says. Alhaitham’s face is very close. His eyes are fixed on Kaveh. His lips are parted, slightly wet. Kaveh finds his gaze keeps dropping to them.
“I wasn’t,” Alhaitham says. “For a long time.”
Do you ever think about our fight?
“My fault,” Kaveh says.
“Is that really what you think?”
“What do you think?” Kaveh asks.
“I think the blame lies between us equally.”
“Still, you were the one who sought me out again. If it weren’t for you…” Kaveh trails off, because he truly doesn’t know how to end that sentence. If it weren’t for Alhaitham, where would he even be right now? He used to struggle under the weight of that favour, of an extra room given so easily. He used to resent it. But what had Alhaitham said? Kaveh’s room, in their house. Could it really be as simple as that?
“Kaveh.”
Alhaitham still has an arm around him. Their feet are still entwined. Kaveh loves him fiercely.
He leans forward and kisses him.
Alhaitham is still beneath his mouth, and for one moment that stretches into infinity Kaveh is terrified that he’s misread everything. But then the arm around him tightens, and he’s dragged in somehow even closer as Alhaitham’s lips move to match his. Kaveh slides a hand up Alhaitham’s chest and cups it around his neck as they kiss, as time stretches around them, bends around them, leaves them in their own tiny pocket of the universe. Kaveh doesn’t want to move too fast, is aware Alhaitham doesn’t have a lot of experience in this, but it’s Alhaitham who opens his mouth beneath Kaveh’s, who lets Kaveh’s tongue slip between his teeth as they come together.
They pull away. Kaveh brings a shaking hand up to his mouth and then leans forward to bury his face in Alhaitham’s shoulder as his junior buries a hand in his hair.
“I guess maybe I should thank Kareem after all,” Alhaitham says. Kaveh can hear his voice rumble in his chest.
“You’re so annoying,” Kaveh says. Alhaitham chuckles lowly.
“Maybe,” he says. “But I’m beginning to think that you like it.”
And Kaveh can’t exactly argue that.