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When Kaveh had returned home from the House of Daena, he had expected the usual scene to play out: that of his roommate whom he called a lover going about his own fixed routine of reading, sleeping, drinking coffee, and staring.
When Kaveh searched his pockets for his keys, he was pleasantly surprised to feel his fingers brush along the soft plush of his keychain.
When the architect opened the door, removed his shoes, and stepped home after a long and tiring day, he hadn't expected to be greeted by a dark and empty living room. In fact, it was so jarring that he stumbled to a stop before Mehrak had nearly crashed onto his back.
Was Alhaitham gone, perhaps? It certainly wouldn't be the first, but... as Kaveh squinted his eyes and observed the living room properly, he couldn't help but notice a few strange details.
Details, such as, the windows being open, an empty plate on the foot of the divan, along with a clear glass bottle toppled on the floor.
What liquid remained inside had spilled onto the rug, and it was the realisation of which that stirred a flight of panic within the architect.
Had something happened? Just what could be the cause of such a mess? Kaveh rushed into the room to grab the bottle by its neck, lifting it to inspect the glittering liquid left inside. A sour grimace skewed his lips. Oh, he could already imagine the nightmare of washing that stain off the rug. Just what in the world had Alhaitham bought this time?
The first place Kaveh looked was his bedroom—their bedroom—just down the hall. Much like the living room, there wasn't any light to indicate anyone inside, but Kaveh needn't press an ear to the door to pick up the quiet sounds being let out.
"Alhaitham... are you in there?" Strange how those noises came off rather muffled. They sounded a little distressed, too. It roused an air of concern as the architect turned the doorknob and listened.
Whether or not Alhaitham had heard him, he didn't respond. That by itself was not unusual. What was unusual, however, was the slightest hint of a groan sneaking out of the room.
It sounded weak, rather pained, and awfully out of character. That was all it took for Kaveh to push the door open and bolt in with a panic-stricken call for his lover's name.
"Haitham? What's—huh?"
Somehow, someway, the myriad of scenarios flooding over his mind hadn't manged to land on... this; that of his lover curled tightly into himself on the bed, with his arms wrapped around his stomach and his face buried into his knees. His skin was flushed, almost beet-red. His fringe clung to his forehead in damp clumps. His breathing was shallow and erratic and his eyes were screwed shut.
Alhaitham's clothes were rumpled and loose. He wasn't even wearing his headphones. Kaveh spared the bedroom a momentary glance before he found them on the floor, and he was quick to sweep them up as he hurried to the bedside and dropped the bottle in his hands.
"Alhaitham, what's wrong? Are you sick? Are you having a headache?" Were Kaveh a lot calmer, he would have minded his volume, but concern was dragging him on by a leash, and he hadn't the composure to think otherwise. So he brushed his lover's fringe aside and laid a palm over his clammy forehead, "You're burning up... Hayati, can you look at me?"
He could tell his lover could hear him, because Alhaitham squirmed and groaned. The scribe pulled away from Kaveh before drawing in a shaky breath through his lips. They quivered, trembled, and failed to form a proper string of words, but Alhaitham seemed to want to answer, for his eyes fluttered open just enough for his lover to find a lack of light in them.
"Hurts..."
"What does?" Kaveh asked.
But the scribe merely shook his head fervently. He tightened his arms around his stomach and let out another pained groan. His brows were knitted just as tight. His hands, too, had grabbed fistfuls of his sleep shirt.
It was a confusing scene. The architect couldn't match it to any past experience. When he would find Alhaitham overwhelmed with sensations, his solution would always be to swaddle him in darkness, silence, and their softest cottons. When he might catch his lover bumping his head against his arm, Kaveh knew that he was demanding affection, and thus would indulge.
And on the rare occasions Alhaitham became ill, he tended to shut himself off and keep to himself. He would never let slip any indication of being unwell, let alone lay in their shared bed in such a state.
What was Kaveh to do? What was he possibly meant to think? His lover was flushed and feverish. He was in pain and unable to properly speak...
"H-hold on, I'll get some water and a towel to cool you down." If not from experience, then by common sense. Kaveh at least knew how to care for a sick person, so he clung to that and spun on his heel—
Only for Alhaitham to rush in and grab his wrist.
"Don't go. Stay." The words came clipped and weak, as if he had run his voice hoarse from hours of shouting. Even his grip faltered after a mere moment as he groaned and returned to curling up on the bed. "Feels too hot. Everything... hurts..."
"Did you eat something?" Was he poisoned? Oh, perhaps, "Is it that bottle I found in the living room? What is it?"
Said bottle was lying forgotten on the floor, still, right where the scribe's headphones had been. With a much more critical, suspicious eye, Kaveh grabbed it back and held it close. He swirled whatever liquid remained, catching the light shade of pink that matched a Zaytun peach. But alongside that were faint streaks of bright red fading into orange, not unlike Jueyun Chilis.
"Hayati, did you buy a potion from someone?" What else could it be? Perhaps a travelling merchant had visited Sumeru City and peaked Alhaitham's interest. Kaveh dared hold the bottle under his nose to take a quick sniff; fragrant, but awfully sweet... It did not smell like anything immediately recognisable. "Gods, did you actually drink this? You don't know what it does!"
Alhaitham merely flinched. "Shut up... It hurts..." His voice petered out in the end, as though it pained him to even speak—just as it seldom did when things got overwhelming for him.
"Ugh, fine, fine. Questions later. I'll just—" If the scribe demanded that Kaveh stay, then he will. The architect set the bottle carefully onto the nightstand before he shrugged off his scarf. He lit the bedside lamp and gave a quick order for Mehrak to bring some water. He climbed into bed, crawled close to his lover, and kept a safe distance for his sake.
What else was he to do? Kaveh hadn't a single clue. Sharing a bed was the closest he had ever been with his lover, no matter if Alhaitham always preferred to keep to his side. Would he mind if the architect were to offer reassuring words? Would the scribe reject any affections while he was ill?
He was still burning to the touch, like metal left in the sun for too long. His skin was damp with sweat, and his hair was a tangled mess from all his tossing and turning. No matter how much he moved, how tightly he wound himself up, Alhaitham couldn't seem to get comfortable, nor could he ease the pain.
This all looked to be different from his regular migraines and bouts of overstimulation. Was he trying out a different method of dealing with them? No, that couldn't be it. Kaveh knew his lover to be more scrupulous than that. Alhaitham wouldn't test a potion without first studying and documenting every single ingredient in its recipe. But, then again, the scribe was difficult to predict. There was a chance he was simply bored, and had decided to take Tighnari's hobby for a spin.
Something soft tickled against Kaveh's arm, stirring him from his thoughts. The architect turned towards the silver hair hiding his lover's face as he crawled a little closer towards him.
"Hurts..."
Kaveh sighed. It was never easy watching anyone suffer, least of all someone whom he held so dearly. He carded his fingers through his lover's hair and quietly said, "I know, I know. Just wait a moment. Mehrak will get some water, then you can cool off."
Oh, but Alhaitham shook his head vehemently. His lips were pressed to a thin, flat line as he shuffled even closer, until his head bumped against his lover's thigh.
"It's... it's a lust potion."
"Haha, what?" Had Kaveh heard it right? A lust potion?
Another grumble, a tighter frown, another pained groan. Alhaitham clenched his teeth and ground them together, much like scratching fingernails through rough paper.
"Hey, no, don't do that," Kaveh chided as he cupped his lover's cheek, "You'll give yourself a headache if you keep straining your gums."
For all it was worth, the architect didn't dare let himself become distracted. The questions could wait—though he may very well turn it into an interrogation soon. His concern trumped any confusion making him stall, and it was with a careful, yet practical, hand that Kaveh helped sit his lover up.
He hushed the scribe with assurances and quiet words, stroked his arm as soothingly as he could manage; he even spared a moment to press two fingers underneath his lover's jaw. His pulse was a little quick and light, but far from jittery or erratic. There wasn't any urgency to head to the Bimarstan, for now.
Mehrak had returned with a pot of water, two cups, and even a towel. They were left on the nightstand quietly. Kaveh swept up the towel and folded it into a long strip. He brushed Alhaitham's fringe back before he laid the towel over his forehead.
"Try to breathe a little deeper," the architect said, "Here, lean back. Now, hold this... and try to drink some water."
He took Alhaitham's hand and brought it up towards the towel. Once Kaveh was sure that it wouldn't fall off, he pulled away for the brief moment it took to pour a cup of water. It was cool in his palm as he offered it towards his lover, like shade from the desert sun. The rim of the cup was brought to Alhaitham's lips and slowly tipped upwards, and just as slowly, just as carefully, the scribe sipped away at it until the water was drained.
He gasped as the empty cup was taken away. He lolled his head back into the headboard. His chest rose and fell as he breathed deeply through his parted lips.
Though his brows remained tightly knitted, his eyelids were no longer screwed shut. His grimace had finally started to ease up, too, and his muscles were beginning to relax as the seconds drifted past.
Kaveh poured his lover another cup of water and fed it to his lips. As the scribe drank, he shivered less and less, and it wasn't long before his noises grew softer, lighter, and much more lax. His skin was still much too warm, but at least he seemed a little more comfortable now.
So Kaveh set the empty cup back to the nightstand. He took the towel on his lover's forehead and folded it on the opposite, cleaner end before returning it. He tugged at the collar of Alhaitham's sleep shirt, brushed down his sleeves, pulled at the hem before helping him back to lay properly on the bed. All the while, the scribe didn't so much as squirm or grumble, even if his breathing hitched every now and then.
Kaveh made a move to pull away, but before he could do so much as twitch a finger, his wrist was snatched and held in place.
"Don't—don't go."
"I'm not going anywhere," he assured, yet he rested his palm over his lover's head regardless. He carded through soft, silver hair, undoing all the knots and tangles whilst Alhaitham crawled closer toward him. Kaveh felt—more so than saw—the scribe bumping his head against his thigh, as if he were asking for more.
Were it any other occasion, the architect would've indulged without question. Now, however, he couldn't help but ask, "Are you sure?"
Whatever potion it was Alhaitham had drunk, it must surely be still in effect, right? Would that turn any request into a cause for scrutiny? Perhaps not... But one can never be too certain, especially when it came to a man as strange as Alhaitham.
Another fervent nod, this time coupled with a soft hum. "It feels a bit better... now that you're here."
"Is that so?" Well, he certainly sounded a little more sober.
Another nod, another hum. A pair of piercing green eyes fluttered open and found the architect. "Touch me."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't mean anything funny." Now was far from the best time. All Kaveh could muster was an admittedly awkward laugh as he acquiesced. He shuffled himself down the headboard to lie a little better in bed, right by his lover's side. Alhaitham was quick to crawl closer, tucking his knees to his chest and using Kaveh's arm as a pillow.
Rude, but fine. There was a sort of charm that came in moments like these, when the scribe was mellow and affectionate enough to treat his lover as... well, a lover.
A heavy sigh left the architect. "You really are such a cat."
Kaveh hung his arm around the scribe's shoulders. He lolled his head aside to rest his cheek against silver hair. Physical touch was not uncommon between them, yet it was always nice. Warm, fuzzy, sweet, and nice. Affections, meanwhile, brought so much more than that. It stirred a swarm of crystalflies in Kaveh's stomach, made his heart go weak, fill his cheeks with colour...
That train of thought was thoroughly shaken away before they became true. For now, all the architect cared about was making sure that his lover was alright. So he lied in bed and watched. He laid a tender kiss into silver hair and felt Alhaitham filling his lungs to the brim with air. He waited the hour it took for his lover to slowly relax, catching the way his eyelids fluttered and eventually fell closed. His body grew limp. His breathing began to deepen at last. He nuzzled his face into Kaveh's shirt before finally, finally, lying still.
"I didn't even bathe last night."
"Hmm... shut up..."
"No, seriously, hayati, I need to change."
"I still feel sick."
As lazy as a cat, Alhaitham refused to budge; and because he was a cat, Kaveh wouldn't dare disturb his lover. However, the temptation was fast becoming unbearable with his legs having fallen dead asleep.
The towel had slipped from the scribe's forehead. His greedy, needy hands had taken a fair bit of Kaveh's shirt in their grasp. His skin was much cooler than last night—a good sign—though his demands for touch and affection hadn't waned one bit.
Not a bad sign—far from it—though it begged a few questions, of course. Those left on the shelf had to be picked up again soon. Questions, such as, the strange bottle of glittering potion left on the nightstand. Kaveh was rather curious about that. He was also curious of Alhaitham's behaviour, even if it may very well be caused by whatever he had drunk.
The grumpy cat trapping his arm let out a clipped huff. The scribe's voice was rough from sleep, and he was just as moody as he always was in the morning.
"Don't go," was all he said—and perhaps Kaveh had misheard, but did his lover sound outright petulant just then?
Nonetheless, the architect sighed and accepted his fate. "Fine. You win, again."
Now that quiet whine had morphed into a pleased hum.
"But on one condition," Kaveh held a finger up to state his point. He was quick to speak again before his lover could interject, "You seem to be doing better. So, why don't you start explaining yourself, mister. No, don't give me that look. I mean it. I deserve an explanation, don't I?"
He rivalled that unamused glare with a fiercer, more pointed stare. Kaveh felt rather entitled to a bit of context, and having only clues to build the events was not enough for him; and if not for his own sake, then for his lover's.
He would very much like to be certain that Alhaitham hadn't ingested any poison.
So, he stared. He stared long and hard, meeting his lover's stubborness as though it were a competition. Kaveh remained resolute even when Alhaitham pulled a sour frown. He kept his stance even when the scribe's eye began to twitch, and it was only after an eternity before Alhaitham decided that that was enough eye-contact for the day.
"Hey, come on, now. Don't be like that." Kaveh cupped his lover's cheek and brushed his thumb beneath a single eye. Though the scribe wasn't looking at him anymore, it was clear as day that he was paying attention. And for that, the architect let his voice turn a little kinder, a little teasing, "What's wrong? Are you shy all of a sudden? Hmm, let me guess... It's about that potion you drank, isn't it? Did you get it from a 'questionable' source without doing any proper research first? That seems unlike you."
A shake of his head, a grumble, a grimace. Alhaitham shifted up the bed and buried his head into the crook of Kaveh's neck.
"Shut up."
Hmm, no. Kaveh felt entitled to teasing his lover more.
With his other arm now free, the architect curled his fingers into soft, short, silver hair. He grazed his neatly-trimmed nails over his lover's scalp, just as Alhaitham loved it. The contrast between sweet and gentle affections over his remarks only stirred a shiver from the scribe.
"I'm just making conclusions with the evidence I have," Kaveh said. "Judging by your reaction, however, I think I'm on the right track. Hold on, let me think... Did you somehow manage to get swindled, too? That would explain why you, of all people, would drink a lust potion. I mean, honestly, you? I would sooner believe that the Dendro Archon has permanently made you Grand Sage for the rest of your life."
The corner of Alhaitham's lips twitched. His lashes tickled against Kaveh's neck, yet he kept silent.
Perhaps... the architect had missed the mark.
"Hmm, or is it because you were just curious about something?" he wondered, "Yeah, that sounds more in character for you. You'd do some of the weirdest things just to test out a hypothesis."
Alhaitham bumped his forehead against his lover's jaw. That was his reaction. Rather than a retort or another demand for Kaveh to shut up, he instead mumbled something very, very quietly.
And were it not for the fact that he was mouthing the words into the architect's neck, Kaveh wasn't sure if he could've deciphered it.
"I thought... I wasn't satisfying you... in bed."
"Huh?" At first, Kaveh thought he'd misheard, again. He thought his brain had glitched and scrambled together a funny interpretation, because things were beginning to slide right out of his comfort zone.
But when he caught another snippet of his lover's mumbling, it was as though everything around him had faded into obscurity. Something along the lines of, "Always stressed after meeting a client," and, "Acting ill-tempered and anxious when you don't catch enough sleep."
It took a long, long moment of thought before it all began to click, and it was only when the puzzle pieces finally slotted together that the architect realised, "Are you really trying to say that you went through the effort of getting a lust potion just to, what—just so you could cheer me up with sex?"
Well, now. Kaveh couldn't decide if he should be flattered, or appalled. Never could he have imagined Alhaitham to care to this extent.
"Biologically speaking, sex can improve one's—"
"No, you are not going to justify this with science." That'd be utterly ridiculous—more so than this entire situation they had found themselves in. "I can't believe—no, actually, I can. I just never thought... you'd go through all of that for anyone but yourself."
Rarely was Alhaitham ever selfless to a fault. He was not like Kaveh in many ways. He was stoic, obtuse, and unyielding in his lifestyle. He wasn't exactly in-tune with his emotions as Kaveh was. The scribe only took kindly on physical affections on occasion, too, and sex had never, ever, crossed his mind.
And for as long as they had been together—for as long as they had been reunited—Kaveh was fine with that. He valued his lover for his unrivalled intelligence, his frustrating personality, and the occasional glimpses of his genuine, sensitive side, anyway. Physical desires were secondary. He knew Alhaitham to be the sort to never push himself out of his comfort zone for the sake of others; and even if he did, it'd surely be for some bizarre, miraculous, exceptional reason; and Kaveh would never fall into that threshold.
"You would probably feel better if you had a normal relationship," Alhaitham mumbled, though his voice didn't waver. He was stating a fact—a fact only he considered to be true.
Kaveh felt quite stunned at that. He was feeling a lot of emotions, but surprise was the loudest, followed closely by the growing amusement he found in this entire mess.
"Don't put words in my mouth," he chided lightly. "Say what you want about sex being 'good for me'. I never cared about having a 'normal relationship', either. There's no such thing. I mean, sure, there are certainly conventional relationships, but who gives a damn? I know for a fact that you don't."
And before Alhaitham could take another breath, Kaveh urged him to look up, up towards him, even if their eyes didn't meet.
"Listen, alright? If we ever kiss, or whatever else, then I want you to want it, too. That's normal. I don't want you running around drinking lust potions that give you a terrible stomachache because you find sex so revolting."
"I don't find it revolting," Alhaitham said. "I just can't see the appeal. Logically, sex should be pleasurable for both parties, but I have never once thought of seeking it out."
"And my answer remains unchanged." Kaveh let out a sigh. It was times like these that reminded him that Alhaitham was the younger one between them, even if only by two years. It was times like these that drove in just how silly he could be. Regardless, this was not a scenario the architect would like to see repeated, so he pinched the scribe's cheek and pulled at the flesh.
"Got it?" he asked through a giggling smile. Kaveh only released his lover when he saw a quick nod, and before Alhaitham could grumble and pout and argue some more, the architect let out a true laugh and ruffled his lover's hair. Then, once a pair of beautiful green eyes pointed themselves his way, he pulled Alhaitham close and pressed his lips to the back of his hand.
They stayed like that for a while. Neither man made any attempt to move, and while Alhaitham had seemed to freeze up completely, he eventually leaned right into Kaveh's palm and went limp. That, by itself, spoke volumes. The architect might liken it to a cat rolling over to its back.
His grin was an easy, genuine thing. It burned his cheeks and made his heart flutter. He was certain it could be heard in his tone of voice, too. "Now, how do you feel about a bath before breakfast? After that, we can grab ourselves a book and spend the day reading in the living room. I'll even let you lie on my lap if you ask nicely."
Barely a moment had passed before Alhaitham perked up, by way of widening his eyes just barely. He made a sound loosely akin to a purr and flash the ghost of a smile.