𝒦𝒶𝓋𝑒𝒽 🏛️ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
indigently) wrote2023-01-23 02:27 pm
indigently) wrote2023-01-23 02:27 pm
𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉 🏛️
OPEN POST
action • text • canon • cross-canon • assumed cr
[ Oh no. He's up against Alhaitham's sloth— never a good thing when he wants the scribe to do what he wants. He doesn't have a lot of options; and there's no way he's going back out there. Again: man-bun, moisturizer.
Hmm. ]
Wine will stain. And attract bugs.
Hmm. ]
Wine will stain. And attract bugs.
Edited 2023-06-30 16:10 (UTC)
[ He knows what Alhaitham is doing. He's pretty sure he knows what Alhaitham is doing. He hopes he knows what Alhaitham is doing.
(What if he's wrong?) ]
Alhaitham I swear to Lesser Lord Kusanali herself that if you spray wine all over the living room, I will not clean it up!!!
(What if he's wrong?) ]
Alhaitham I swear to Lesser Lord Kusanali herself that if you spray wine all over the living room, I will not clean it up!!!
[ in all the possible permutations, of break-ups and falling-ins, of coming togethers and partings, of them being kaveh and alhaitham and then kaveh and alhaitham, two creatures made of the same sinew and bone, chest-to-chest, shoulder-to-shoulder, heart-to-heart, of a thousand unnamed and unvoiced marriages and divorces, as it were, only alhaitham is the position to understand just what that admission takes from kaveh. if you don't want to, kaveh says, carving out immediately the openings of an exit wound in its aftermath. alhaitham, who has never done anything he didn't want to do, merely looks. ]
Why would it be strange to ask it of me? [ alhaitham asks. ] It is merely you, and me.
[ it is merely midnights in alhaitham's much roomier akademiya dormitory after a grueling set of exams, two undergraduate men crammed face-to-face, chest-to-chest squeezed into a bed meant for one. it is merely long days side-by-side in the house of daena, heads bowed over ancient deshretian script and the foundations of sumeran desert housing structures, creating a blueprint that would change sumeru's understanding of that era forever. it is merely humid nights of passing a cheap bottle of wine between them back and forth, drinking each time from the lip as they debated idly the efficacy of self-determination all the way to the pigment mixing techniques of ancient liyuen craftsmen. it is merely, after all, kaveh and alhaitham. who could ever judge what passes between them save for them? who would dare?
in turn, alhaitham shifts. he wipes the seeds into a waiting dish, and passes over a towel so that they can wipe their hands. alhaitham's hand on kaveh's shoulder is warm and sure as he reaches behind him. the large bathrobe had been prepared ahead of time to replace kaveh's sweat-soaked shirt. he eases kaveh into it one arm at a time, before he motions for kaveh to get up. the divan is meant for two. it had always been so. alhaitham draws kaveh up with him onto it with a guiding arm around his waist. the cushions sink beneath their weight in tandem, alhaitham carving out just enough space in the curve of his body for kaveh to rest there against him, one silver spoon against one outlined in gold.
this is a household where there is always a book within reach. alhaitham flicks through one, and shifts just enough so that the shadow of it falls over kaveh's face, obscuring the silver slant of the moonlight. ]
Mind your elbows. I do not intend on rising later bruised like your back.
Why would it be strange to ask it of me? [ alhaitham asks. ] It is merely you, and me.
[ it is merely midnights in alhaitham's much roomier akademiya dormitory after a grueling set of exams, two undergraduate men crammed face-to-face, chest-to-chest squeezed into a bed meant for one. it is merely long days side-by-side in the house of daena, heads bowed over ancient deshretian script and the foundations of sumeran desert housing structures, creating a blueprint that would change sumeru's understanding of that era forever. it is merely humid nights of passing a cheap bottle of wine between them back and forth, drinking each time from the lip as they debated idly the efficacy of self-determination all the way to the pigment mixing techniques of ancient liyuen craftsmen. it is merely, after all, kaveh and alhaitham. who could ever judge what passes between them save for them? who would dare?
in turn, alhaitham shifts. he wipes the seeds into a waiting dish, and passes over a towel so that they can wipe their hands. alhaitham's hand on kaveh's shoulder is warm and sure as he reaches behind him. the large bathrobe had been prepared ahead of time to replace kaveh's sweat-soaked shirt. he eases kaveh into it one arm at a time, before he motions for kaveh to get up. the divan is meant for two. it had always been so. alhaitham draws kaveh up with him onto it with a guiding arm around his waist. the cushions sink beneath their weight in tandem, alhaitham carving out just enough space in the curve of his body for kaveh to rest there against him, one silver spoon against one outlined in gold.
this is a household where there is always a book within reach. alhaitham flicks through one, and shifts just enough so that the shadow of it falls over kaveh's face, obscuring the silver slant of the moonlight. ]
Mind your elbows. I do not intend on rising later bruised like your back.
[ With each second that passes, Kaveh's inner narrative becomes less and less confident, which in turn leads to him becoming less and less concerned with his appearance, and more and more to the mess that his jerk of a roommate is apparently about to make of the living room.
Alhaitham's text doesn't help, either— in fact, it does the opposite, and in a scant few seconds after sending it, the scribe will hear Kaveh's door slam open, the stomping of bare feet on the floorboards before the blonde bursts out of the hallway and into the living room— ]
Alhaitham—!!!
[ —where the silver-haired scribe is sitting, book in one hand and wine in the other, drinking and not throwing it everywhere like he had threatened to. Meanwhile, Tighnari and Cyno are still making out on the sofa, somehow undisturbed by the cacophony.
Kaveh's steps grind to a halt, and for a second he just stands there, looking between the pair and Alhaitham, lips working like a guppy's— and between the fact that his hair is piled on his head in a messy bun, the sheen of moisturizer on his face, and the fact that he's clad only in a pair of black, satin lounge pants, he probably looks insanely ridiculous— more so, as his brows crease over his ruby eyes in anger. ]
You...! You— you asshole!
Alhaitham's text doesn't help, either— in fact, it does the opposite, and in a scant few seconds after sending it, the scribe will hear Kaveh's door slam open, the stomping of bare feet on the floorboards before the blonde bursts out of the hallway and into the living room— ]
Alhaitham—!!!
[ —where the silver-haired scribe is sitting, book in one hand and wine in the other, drinking and not throwing it everywhere like he had threatened to. Meanwhile, Tighnari and Cyno are still making out on the sofa, somehow undisturbed by the cacophony.
Kaveh's steps grind to a halt, and for a second he just stands there, looking between the pair and Alhaitham, lips working like a guppy's— and between the fact that his hair is piled on his head in a messy bun, the sheen of moisturizer on his face, and the fact that he's clad only in a pair of black, satin lounge pants, he probably looks insanely ridiculous— more so, as his brows crease over his ruby eyes in anger. ]
You...! You— you asshole!
[ For a moment, Kaveh just stares at Alhaitham in irritated silence. In his mind, there is nothing about this image that is what he told the other man to do. He's not, at the very least, actually pouring or spraying the wine over the two on the couch—
Archons, he can hear the wet of their lips from here.
Kaveh reaches out, long fingers wrapping seamlessly around Alhaitham's wrist. ]
If we've given up on chasing them out, let's sit in my room and drink the rest of this together. I can't keep standing out here listening.
[ He can finish yelling at the other man anywhere, anyway. ]
Archons, he can hear the wet of their lips from here.
Kaveh reaches out, long fingers wrapping seamlessly around Alhaitham's wrist. ]
If we've given up on chasing them out, let's sit in my room and drink the rest of this together. I can't keep standing out here listening.
[ He can finish yelling at the other man anywhere, anyway. ]
[The moment he switches off his headphones, the sounds that the couple is making finally make themselves known and Alhaitham can't help the slight slant of his eyebrows. He was not expecting Cyno to be the one to make more noise, though, objectively speaking, he supposes that Tighnari may enjoy it with those ears of his—
He's withdrawn out of his own observational spree by Kaveh's hand around his wrist and tugging. The world seems to sway a bit as he gets up, his free hand grasping the book he was reading.]
I thought you had stopped drinking.
He's withdrawn out of his own observational spree by Kaveh's hand around his wrist and tugging. The world seems to sway a bit as he gets up, his free hand grasping the book he was reading.]
I thought you had stopped drinking.
[ If the world seems to sway for Alhaitham, it's because— Kaveh is reasonably sure— Alhaitham is swaying, just a little. The blonde has sobered up enough by this point that he's able to react with relative speed, a supportive arm looping through the scribe's to anchor him. And they stand like that for a moment, Kaveh letting Alhaitham get his bearings again as he jerks his head in the general direction of the couple on the couch, the displeasure written all over his face.
(Next time the four of them drink together, it needs to be at Tighnari's place, or.. or just anywhere else. Never again will he make the mistake of asking Alhaitham to invite the two of them back here—) ]
That was the plan. But right now, I'll happily drink myself into a coma to forget— [ a loose wave of his hand in their general direction ] —this. Come on.
[ And once he's sure enough that Alhaitham can move without falling, he'll start back toward his room. ]
(Next time the four of them drink together, it needs to be at Tighnari's place, or.. or just anywhere else. Never again will he make the mistake of asking Alhaitham to invite the two of them back here—) ]
That was the plan. But right now, I'll happily drink myself into a coma to forget— [ a loose wave of his hand in their general direction ] —this. Come on.
[ And once he's sure enough that Alhaitham can move without falling, he'll start back toward his room. ]
Alhaitham—!
[ Gods, what a jerk— Kaveh finds himself muttering under his breath. Far from letting the blonde help him, or even thinking to bring the bottle himself, he just straightens up and walks off like he hasn't a care in the world, leaving Kaveh alone in the room with... well.
He's not even surprised when, following him a few moments later with the bottle in hand, he finds Alhaitham having made himself completely at home.
Kaveh closes his door, and finally he can no longer hear the litany of sounds from Cyno's mouth. ]
Who would've thought Cyno would be the noisy one— [ he mutters, not even realizing he's echoing Alhaitham's earlier thought, and he perches on the edge of his bed, taking a long hit from the bottle. ] You'll have to make me some headphones of my own for next time we drink with them.
[ Gods, what a jerk— Kaveh finds himself muttering under his breath. Far from letting the blonde help him, or even thinking to bring the bottle himself, he just straightens up and walks off like he hasn't a care in the world, leaving Kaveh alone in the room with... well.
He's not even surprised when, following him a few moments later with the bottle in hand, he finds Alhaitham having made himself completely at home.
Kaveh closes his door, and finally he can no longer hear the litany of sounds from Cyno's mouth. ]
Who would've thought Cyno would be the noisy one— [ he mutters, not even realizing he's echoing Alhaitham's earlier thought, and he perches on the edge of his bed, taking a long hit from the bottle. ] You'll have to make me some headphones of my own for next time we drink with them.
[ "It is merely you, and me," Alhaitham says, and Kaveh knows without asking what that means, knows that the scribe holds all those moments together in his mind as if they were one, builds an understanding from them the same way the architect builds physical structures. Alhaitham, who for better or for worse, catalogs and accepts every event between them as a part of the jigsaw that makes up the two of them as a single unit. He's so different to Kaveh, who takes awkwardness from their debates and ascribes it to their future interactions, who allows himself personal offence over statements never meant to offend, whose jigsaw is full of holes because he takes the bad and tries to hide it, tells himself that those moments have ruined what they used to have.
The act of asking is the same as taking one of those hidden pieces and considering it in its place.
He's relieved, then, when Alhaitham makes no issue of it, just hands him a towel to wipe his hands before helping him into a the comfort of a bathrobe, white and scented like the scribe himself, then instructs him to move so that he may draw Kaveh against him, reaching for a book as the blonde makes himself comfortable.
(There's always a book.)
If Kaveh hadn't already asked for so much, he might demand Alhaitham put the book down and actually just hold him. Both arms around his waist where one anchors him now. Lips in his hair, the soothing rumble of his voice against Kaveh's scalp. Instead, he grumbles, lying against the other man, his head eventually settling against Alhaitham's shoulder. ]
I always mind my elbows, you jerk.
[ "Always," Kaveh says, as if this is something they've done recently when they both know that's not true, when the blonde's pride has kept any such intimacy from them since that one horrific falling-out, when that same pride has kept Kaveh from seeking any such intimacy from anyone. For as much as he might hate how Alhaitham sees so readily through him, there's a comfort in it he can find with no other, an understanding he can't get anywhere else.
Fresh tears well in his eyes— In reality, maybe they never really stopped. ]
You should be proud of me, Alhaitham, [ he mumbles. ] I said what I wanted.
The act of asking is the same as taking one of those hidden pieces and considering it in its place.
He's relieved, then, when Alhaitham makes no issue of it, just hands him a towel to wipe his hands before helping him into a the comfort of a bathrobe, white and scented like the scribe himself, then instructs him to move so that he may draw Kaveh against him, reaching for a book as the blonde makes himself comfortable.
(There's always a book.)
If Kaveh hadn't already asked for so much, he might demand Alhaitham put the book down and actually just hold him. Both arms around his waist where one anchors him now. Lips in his hair, the soothing rumble of his voice against Kaveh's scalp. Instead, he grumbles, lying against the other man, his head eventually settling against Alhaitham's shoulder. ]
I always mind my elbows, you jerk.
[ "Always," Kaveh says, as if this is something they've done recently when they both know that's not true, when the blonde's pride has kept any such intimacy from them since that one horrific falling-out, when that same pride has kept Kaveh from seeking any such intimacy from anyone. For as much as he might hate how Alhaitham sees so readily through him, there's a comfort in it he can find with no other, an understanding he can't get anywhere else.
Fresh tears well in his eyes— In reality, maybe they never really stopped. ]
You should be proud of me, Alhaitham, [ he mumbles. ] I said what I wanted.
[ kaveh grumbles. in the slant of the moonlight, half-hidden by the shadow cast by his book, alhaitham smiles. it starts, as always, with the curve of his eyes, the gentle lines of which softens the contours of his cheeks, the line of his jaw.
this time, the smile makes it to the corner of his mouth, where it rests much in the way of water along a river's bend, liquid silver in its dance. alhaitham smiles, and if his lips were to skim the crown of kaveh's head - well, surely it is merely the trick of an obscure angle. ]
Was I unclear?
[ the question posed is rhetorical in nature. it refuses any alternative as alhaitham continues, in that self-same tone, punctuated only by the flip of a page from his book. ] You made a decision that those with lesser conviction could not have followed through on, a rarity in a day and age where idealism is merely spoken of rather than the foundation of a school of morality. I commended you for doing as you needed to do.
[ another page. the slide of paper against paper in the hush of the night. ] Tonight, you sat there and had pomegranate, and allowed your nails to be filed. You spoke a desire and allowed it to come to fruition. I commend you for doing as you wanted to do.
[ and then, because he is alhaitham: ] Though I see you still cannot bring yourself to open your mouth to tell me to put down my book. Perhaps this is the limit you've drawn for your desires.
this time, the smile makes it to the corner of his mouth, where it rests much in the way of water along a river's bend, liquid silver in its dance. alhaitham smiles, and if his lips were to skim the crown of kaveh's head - well, surely it is merely the trick of an obscure angle. ]
Was I unclear?
[ the question posed is rhetorical in nature. it refuses any alternative as alhaitham continues, in that self-same tone, punctuated only by the flip of a page from his book. ] You made a decision that those with lesser conviction could not have followed through on, a rarity in a day and age where idealism is merely spoken of rather than the foundation of a school of morality. I commended you for doing as you needed to do.
[ another page. the slide of paper against paper in the hush of the night. ] Tonight, you sat there and had pomegranate, and allowed your nails to be filed. You spoke a desire and allowed it to come to fruition. I commend you for doing as you wanted to do.
[ and then, because he is alhaitham: ] Though I see you still cannot bring yourself to open your mouth to tell me to put down my book. Perhaps this is the limit you've drawn for your desires.
[ From where he is, Kaveh fails to see the slight smile curving Alhaitham's lips and eyes alike. When Alhaitham smiles, Kaveh rarely catches it. Such expressions are already rare; in such a way the blonde has convinced himself over the years that the other man simply doesn't smile. So too does he force himself to believe that the unmistakable feeling of lips against his crown is merely a trick borne of his combined tiredness and his unshakeable hope.
A hope that, occasionally, Alhaitham kindles by saying or doing just the right thing. Like now, as he praises once more Kaveh's willingness to follow through on his intent, and then for doing what he wanted. Like now, as he allows Kaveh to rest against him having just patched him up, letting the blonde breathe in the mingled scents of skin and cologne and antiseptic. The sound of the pages turning, one after another, punctuates his words.
An embarrassed heat rises to his cheeks as the younger man's words continue, accusing him of something he already knows to be true. As ever, he sees through the stone bricks of Kaveh's walls without even trying, and the blonde is forced to wonder if he can see further still, to thoughts Kaveh tries to hide even from himself.
(His heart aches.)
Of course, his response comes in the form of additional grumbling, a defense mechanism against his embarrassment. ]
If you're so sure that's what I want, put your book down, then.
[ Later, he'll allow himself to be surprised at how easily Alhaitham has gotten under his skin, steered him into saying the things he knows he wants to say. It will be unjustified, his surprise, but he will feel it anyway, hand in hand with the embarrassment and the guilt. ]
A hope that, occasionally, Alhaitham kindles by saying or doing just the right thing. Like now, as he praises once more Kaveh's willingness to follow through on his intent, and then for doing what he wanted. Like now, as he allows Kaveh to rest against him having just patched him up, letting the blonde breathe in the mingled scents of skin and cologne and antiseptic. The sound of the pages turning, one after another, punctuates his words.
An embarrassed heat rises to his cheeks as the younger man's words continue, accusing him of something he already knows to be true. As ever, he sees through the stone bricks of Kaveh's walls without even trying, and the blonde is forced to wonder if he can see further still, to thoughts Kaveh tries to hide even from himself.
(His heart aches.)
Of course, his response comes in the form of additional grumbling, a defense mechanism against his embarrassment. ]
If you're so sure that's what I want, put your book down, then.
[ Later, he'll allow himself to be surprised at how easily Alhaitham has gotten under his skin, steered him into saying the things he knows he wants to say. It will be unjustified, his surprise, but he will feel it anyway, hand in hand with the embarrassment and the guilt. ]
My assumption is that he's doing it for Tighnari. [He replies, finding the page he last read, using, ironically, a pressed leaf as a bookmark for the page itself, lest he loses it again.
He arches an eyebrow, though it's covered by the mass of gray hair falling over his eye.] That's new, considering you tend to complain about my headphones.
He arches an eyebrow, though it's covered by the mass of gray hair falling over his eye.] That's new, considering you tend to complain about my headphones.
Ugh. [ He says it with feeling, a visible shudder passing through his body at the thought. He loves his friends, loves them dearly, but tonight has just been too much.
He sighs— and then rolls his eyes in response to Alhaitham's comment. ]
Of course I do; they're annoying when you wear them to shut me out! [ Another swig of the wine, and then Kaveh reaches out, offering it to the other. ] But. I really, really didn't need to know what Cyno sounds like when he moans.
He sighs— and then rolls his eyes in response to Alhaitham's comment. ]
Of course I do; they're annoying when you wear them to shut me out! [ Another swig of the wine, and then Kaveh reaches out, offering it to the other. ] But. I really, really didn't need to know what Cyno sounds like when he moans.
[He reaches for the bottle without thought, though he stares at it for a moment or two as his mind wars against the fuzzy, tipsy part of him that tells him that one more sip isn't going to hurt.
He tips the bottle up, taking a swig. Wiping the corner of his mouth with a thumb and sucking on the pad. Hands the bottle over to Kaveh.] It was a matter of time. They are, apparently, in the so-called 'Honeymoon phase'.
[A shrug. There's no use crying over traumatized eardrums.]
He tips the bottle up, taking a swig. Wiping the corner of his mouth with a thumb and sucking on the pad. Hands the bottle over to Kaveh.] It was a matter of time. They are, apparently, in the so-called 'Honeymoon phase'.
[A shrug. There's no use crying over traumatized eardrums.]
[ if alhaitham is sure that's what kaveh wants, kaveh says. alhaitham thinks of the sea. one could obscure quite a bit beneath the waves. if you stood atop a cliff and threw away everything which plagues you into it, the murk of the churning waves makes short work of the weight you shed. but here is the thing - if a man throws away his sorrows into the sea, he is still left with the sea. kaveh drowns in it. kaveh does not so much hide his sorrows as he hides himself within them. and the sea is deep, and it is dark, and it becomes you.
is it possible to glean what someone wants before they themselves realise it? alhaitham thinks - through careful pacing of a well-worn corridor of logic are you able to arrive at conclusions that others have not. that is the basis of scientific discovery. the problem at hand, then, is ethical in nature. can you attribute a want to someone before they realise it? and is it their want if they cannot claim it, or is it merely a well-meaning omen? tonight, moonlight slants through kaveh's hair. he rests his cheek against alhaitham's weight, and is warm for it. alhaitham thinks - the premise was made without taking into consideration that this is kaveh, and this is alhaitham. in what universe would alhaitham not understand? in what universe can he afford to be blind?
and so the book slips onto the divan. alhaitham's hand lingers, then rests, upon the gold of kaveh's hair. ]
Pleased?
is it possible to glean what someone wants before they themselves realise it? alhaitham thinks - through careful pacing of a well-worn corridor of logic are you able to arrive at conclusions that others have not. that is the basis of scientific discovery. the problem at hand, then, is ethical in nature. can you attribute a want to someone before they realise it? and is it their want if they cannot claim it, or is it merely a well-meaning omen? tonight, moonlight slants through kaveh's hair. he rests his cheek against alhaitham's weight, and is warm for it. alhaitham thinks - the premise was made without taking into consideration that this is kaveh, and this is alhaitham. in what universe would alhaitham not understand? in what universe can he afford to be blind?
and so the book slips onto the divan. alhaitham's hand lingers, then rests, upon the gold of kaveh's hair. ]
Pleased?
[ His nose wrinkles in distaste at the comment "honeymoon phase", although perhaps that's for the best, because it interrupts the way his eyes fix onto the thumb that slips between Alhaitham's lips to be cleaned of wine. Clearing his throat, he takes the bottle back; unlike the scribe, he has no hesitation before he tips it back to his lips.
At this rate, they're going to need more bottles. ]
If you ever catch me acting like that, throw a book at my head. No one deserves to sit through that.
[ No use, Alhaitham thinks, but Kaveh will pout anyway. ]
At this rate, they're going to need more bottles. ]
If you ever catch me acting like that, throw a book at my head. No one deserves to sit through that.
[ No use, Alhaitham thinks, but Kaveh will pout anyway. ]
[ For a phrase that set off such thoughts in Alhaitham, in honesty Kaveh was speaking only in self-defense, pulling the truth closer toward him as if he can hide it in the face of eyes that see all. If it is true that he hides within the shield of his sorrows, then he in turn hides within him his desires— although at this point in his life, it's impossible to know for sure if he imprisons them, or if they imprison him.
The distinction may seem great, but in practice it hardly matters— whatever the reason, the result is the same. In the deep dark of Kaveh's sea, he clings to what he allows himself to have, and dreams of wants that guilt and shame keep him from seeking. The realization that Alhaitham is there, waiting with outstretched hands, is far from a conscious one; yet it offers a reason for a comfort as natural as his frustration.
He doesn't realize it, but tonight he's allowed himself to take those hands, at least for a moment.
Kaveh smiles, a soft hum of content on his lips as the other's hand rests against his hair. Is he pleased? Alhaitham asks, and he nods into the younger's shoulder. At some point, he'll have to get up again, do the dishes that he's promised he'll do before sleeping, but at least for now... ]
Very— [ he mumbles. And then, because thank you is still too hard: ] You smell nice.
The distinction may seem great, but in practice it hardly matters— whatever the reason, the result is the same. In the deep dark of Kaveh's sea, he clings to what he allows himself to have, and dreams of wants that guilt and shame keep him from seeking. The realization that Alhaitham is there, waiting with outstretched hands, is far from a conscious one; yet it offers a reason for a comfort as natural as his frustration.
He doesn't realize it, but tonight he's allowed himself to take those hands, at least for a moment.
Kaveh smiles, a soft hum of content on his lips as the other's hand rests against his hair. Is he pleased? Alhaitham asks, and he nods into the younger's shoulder. At some point, he'll have to get up again, do the dishes that he's promised he'll do before sleeping, but at least for now... ]
Very— [ he mumbles. And then, because thank you is still too hard: ] You smell nice.
[ kaveh nods. the motion is that of spider's silk and mulberry petals. the flyaway hairs along kaveh's temple settle along the exposed length of alhaitham's neck. in the slant of the moonlight, the colour seems to dissolve into the spun embroidered floss of a weaver's canvas, a single portmanteau meant to last. alhaitham allows it, the settling of kaveh's weight as his breathing evens. the hum of kaveh's lips begin somewhere in the caverns of kaveh's chest and ends somewhere resonating between the ribcage of alhaitham's - and has that not always been the case? in a dialectic, the two of them persistently fail to achieve synthesis; perhaps once, one of them may have considered that to be flaw more than strength. but alhaitham has always seen it as thus: the stolid orbit of two binary stars, the perpetual moving of a racing benchmark, and above all else, a final end at the denouement of a long, winding road.
has it not always been thus? alhaitham and kaveh.
tonight, alhaitham's hold on kaveh shifts just so, one arm around the thin cross of his waist and the other winding its way to the back of kaveh's neck. alhaitham's fingers are sure as he finds the gnarls of muscle there just where shoulder meets nape. he presses his fingers into where it seems most tense, and begins to tease out the knots one by one. ]
Do I? [ alhaitham breathes out in the way of a sigh. the eddy seems nearly amused for it. ] It is merely the same soap I have used for years.
has it not always been thus? alhaitham and kaveh.
tonight, alhaitham's hold on kaveh shifts just so, one arm around the thin cross of his waist and the other winding its way to the back of kaveh's neck. alhaitham's fingers are sure as he finds the gnarls of muscle there just where shoulder meets nape. he presses his fingers into where it seems most tense, and begins to tease out the knots one by one. ]
Do I? [ alhaitham breathes out in the way of a sigh. the eddy seems nearly amused for it. ] It is merely the same soap I have used for years.
Maybe you always smell nice.
[ The admission is grumbled more than anything, and it's definitely not the comeback Kaveh wants it to be; if anything, it opens him to further comment, reveals a weakness he would much prefer to keep concealed. But what else is he to say in the face of Alhaitham's amused retort? The scribe is, as ever, several steps ahead of him, leaving him to flounder in his wake for an answer— for anything that might allow him to continue forth in the same way he always has.
But tonight, aching and tired, every ministration has stolen a layer of armor from his heart; every gentleness has sparked a flame long kept smoldering only as embers. Tonight, it is too easy for him to cave to the ardor he so carefully avoids in any other moments, to buy into a fantasy he normally forbids himself to entertain.
He should sleep, lest he endanger his heart—
But he is interrupted even in thought by fingers at the back of his neck, pressing into the skin in such a way that the knots of tension begin to unwind. A contented groan surfaces on his lips before he can stop it, long-drawn and graveled into the other's skin. ]
Oh, that's good— [ he mumbles, and later he'll be mortified at how he sounds, strung-out with pleasure, a near-wantonness in his voice that will color his cheeks a horrified red. ] Don't stop that.
[ The admission is grumbled more than anything, and it's definitely not the comeback Kaveh wants it to be; if anything, it opens him to further comment, reveals a weakness he would much prefer to keep concealed. But what else is he to say in the face of Alhaitham's amused retort? The scribe is, as ever, several steps ahead of him, leaving him to flounder in his wake for an answer— for anything that might allow him to continue forth in the same way he always has.
But tonight, aching and tired, every ministration has stolen a layer of armor from his heart; every gentleness has sparked a flame long kept smoldering only as embers. Tonight, it is too easy for him to cave to the ardor he so carefully avoids in any other moments, to buy into a fantasy he normally forbids himself to entertain.
He should sleep, lest he endanger his heart—
But he is interrupted even in thought by fingers at the back of his neck, pressing into the skin in such a way that the knots of tension begin to unwind. A contented groan surfaces on his lips before he can stop it, long-drawn and graveled into the other's skin. ]
Oh, that's good— [ he mumbles, and later he'll be mortified at how he sounds, strung-out with pleasure, a near-wantonness in his voice that will color his cheeks a horrified red. ] Don't stop that.
[ i'll remember this, for when the next time you complain about the lack of variety in my soaps and shampoos, alhaitham nearly says. the thought comes fully-formed. it dies in his throat. alhaitham's fingers find purchase in a particularly difficult knot, and kaveh groans. the sound is torn from him in raw strips. it fills the room with a headiness that leaves its reverberations in minute marks. observe: the curve of alhaitham's brow as he digs his thumb in just so, so that he can leverage apart another knot of muscle there. the brimming heat of kaveh's skin is like that of a burning brand's. it is the heat of a little sun; it is the warmth of a curled cat.
the sound becomes him, though alhaitham does not say so.
instead, his grip on kaveh has nary a shift. the press of his hands continue, stolid and patient - ]
So you concede. [ and, perhaps, just a little bit smug. ] That your posture over your drafts is horrendous, and would have even a shrimp feel visible pain should they behold it.
[ because that is, in fact, the argument he's going to drag up over this. ]
the sound becomes him, though alhaitham does not say so.
instead, his grip on kaveh has nary a shift. the press of his hands continue, stolid and patient - ]
So you concede. [ and, perhaps, just a little bit smug. ] That your posture over your drafts is horrendous, and would have even a shrimp feel visible pain should they behold it.
[ because that is, in fact, the argument he's going to drag up over this. ]
[ Of all the many configurations in which they have found themselves over the years, this one is new enough that Kaveh is left without any possible idea of how to handle it. Not that conscious thought is much of a concern at this juncture anyway; he feels like softened clay, practically melting into the warmth of Alhaitham's touch, allowing the other to position him as he sees fit.
The sound is followed by another, and still one more, a litany of sounds in varying volumes and tones sung into the scribe's skin in tune with the loosening knots, the relaxation of muscles he didn't know were even tensed. ]
I do not, [ is the answer given between those sounds, an argument returned with the single shred of awareness he has available to him. Gone though is the usual haughtiness in his response, replaced with a drowsy contentedness that takes all the bite from his words. ] This has— mm— nothing to do with any of that.
[ It's far from a good argument, but it's all Kaveh has available to him right at this moment. ]
Archons... how did you get so good at this?
The sound is followed by another, and still one more, a litany of sounds in varying volumes and tones sung into the scribe's skin in tune with the loosening knots, the relaxation of muscles he didn't know were even tensed. ]
I do not, [ is the answer given between those sounds, an argument returned with the single shred of awareness he has available to him. Gone though is the usual haughtiness in his response, replaced with a drowsy contentedness that takes all the bite from his words. ] This has— mm— nothing to do with any of that.
[ It's far from a good argument, but it's all Kaveh has available to him right at this moment. ]
Archons... how did you get so good at this?
Edited 2023-07-08 13:59 (UTC)
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