indigently | 𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉 🏛️

[ 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. ]

[Simple, a flip of a page before Alhaitham spends a couple of moments in silence. If Kaveh is being attentive enough, he'll notice that he's not exactly reading — his mind is fuzzy enough not to go further than 3 words at a time, and he's actually thinking of Kaveh moaning into a kiss because someone decided to hike up their body a little higher and creating friction.

A slight cant of his head.]

I'm not sure you'd act like that, anyway.

[ Admittedly, he wasn't being attentive enough a few moments ago; when Alhaitham speaks though, his head lifts and his brows raise, fixing the other with a bemused look— and it registers, vaguely, that he's not really reading—

(Which of course begs the question: what is he doing?)

He chuckles, something throatier than normal thanks to the alcohol, and reaches with the bottle, making sure to offer it to Alhaitham once again lest he drink it all himself. ]

Stop thinking about how I sound when I'm making out with someone, pervert.

[ Not that he actually thinks the other is doing anything of the sort. That would be ~~nice~~ ~~convenient~~ unlike him.

And then, because Kaveh's still tipsy from before and the extra alcohol isn't helping matters any, he continues, tone conversational: ] What about you? I can't imagine you're the noisy type either.

[He looks a second too long at the bottle in Kaveh's hand before he takes it, as though he's afraid of missing it when he reaches for it. He frowns at the amount of wine inside, wiggling the bottle slightly, takes another sip.

He scoffs.] So I can't think about how you sound when you make out, but you can think about me? I find that hardly fair.

Never claimed it was.

[ He's trying for smug, but instead he sounds thoughtful. He caught the look on the other's face, the wiggle of the bottle before he sipped, and now he's wondering if it's worth trying to go back out to the living area for more. ]

But you at least have a book. [ Even if he's not really reading it anymore. ] I have nothing to entertain me other than the wine. [ And then, a dramatic sigh. ] And that's not gonna last much longer.

[ He eyes Alhaitham in appraising silence for a moment or two. ]

I don't suppose you have more hidden in your room?

[The frown Alhaitham throws Kaveh's way is thoughtful, unbothered by how unwavering it is, and even more so with the pleasant fuzz in his head that tells him not to care that much about what happens.] They're not hiding.

[He points out. Specific, even as he takes another swig of the bottle and settles back on the chair, getting comfortable. If Kaveh wants more he can come get it.] But there are more, sure. You'll have to go past them to get them, though.

[ Kaveh's response is a scowl, the expression behind it borderline disgusted. The last thing he wants to do is go back out there and deal with the two lovebirds— who, for all he knows, are naked by now and ruining the divan beyond all repair. Especially when they still have a wine in here, no matter how slight an amount— ]

Hey!

[ Not that that's likely to be true for much longer, with Alhaitham settling back, withdrawing the bottle further from Kaveh as he drinks again. The blonde is quick to his feet—

Oh, he's had too much to drink

—although he staggers in the effort to move over to the other, wavering over his seated form as he reaches for the bottle. ]

I'm not going back out there, so you have to share. Give.

[His eyes do focus on Kaveh's wavering form, even if he does mean to threaten his grasp on the bottle which he's not feeling like giving with just an order. This is his wine, he bought it. He doesn't want Kaveh to fall facefirst anywhere, no matter how much the architect believes he enjoys watching him in misery.

He still moves the bottle away from him. Shows him the book in the other hand.] The book, you mean?

[ Kaveh's scowl deepens, becoming a pout, as Alhaitham offers him the book. ] You know very well that is not what I meant! [ His eyes track instead the bottle, watching— and reaching— and snatching at air— as Alhaitham pulls it further back; a frustrated growl finds his lips. ]

Stop being such a jerk! I invited you in here to drink together, remember? A word that, last I checked, doesn't mean to take the bottle for yourself!

[ Another reach, fingers closing around Alhaitham's wrist as if he can somehow leverage anything over him like this. ] Or are you going to demand something in response like you always do? [ he demands, putting words in the other's mouth for him now. ] Transactional as ever, even over the wine... What do you want, Alhaitham? What do I have to give you to let me drink, huh?

A "please" and a "thank you" isn't a transaction but mere courtesy. [By tugging his hand backward, Kaveh's own grasp is tugged towards him, and he's doing really nothing to stop that. Alhaitham is, however, stubborn. And enjoys riling Kaveh a bit too much, even inebriated.] But I suppose I'm not even worth that.

[ His scowl deepens, and he's about to shoot back a smug reply when the other man tugs his arm back once more, and where Kaveh was already off-balance, the pull of his arm makes it worse, the blonde yelping as he staggers forward and sprawls out over the scribe. ]

Archons, Alhaitham—

[ His hands brace on the other's chest, pushing him back, putting space between them— he decidedly does not take a moment to breathe in the mixed scent of cologne and alcohol on the other's skin (except that he does)— and adjusts his sprawl so that he's sitting on his lap, rather than splayed akimbo.

The scowl is gone, replaced by an alcohol-sly grin. ]

Well, now that I'm practically giving you a lap dance, surely that's a worthwhile replacement for a polite "please".

[He grunts, but more at the hassle of having the architect on his lap. Kaveh is, after all, despite his penchant for delicate things and the traces of gorgeousness in his face, a solid fully grown man.

Alhaitham gives him a withering look at that grin. It shouldn't look so sharp in this light.]

This is not a lap dance.

[ Kaveh is at that stage in his drunkenness where Alhaitham's look and words paired together serve only to make him laugh, and he answers them by releasing his hold on the other's arm and resting his hand on the scribe's shoulder instead. Of course, he was joking, but something about the look on the other's face, the flat statement that this is not a lap dance—

They've drunk together many times before, and every time through the haze of the alcohol he forgets all those things about Alhaitham that drive him to frustration when he's sober, focuses instead on those that make him crazy in all the right ways. Even drunk, he's never acted on it.

But tonight is different somehow. He can practically feel the tension from the other room bleeding through the walls. Whether it's jealousy or the urge to just forget what he heard, Kaveh's grin shifts to something a little darker as a look of contemplation crosses his features. ]

Then allow me to reword the question: Would it be a worthwhile replacement for a polite "please"?

[The slant of Alhaitham's eyebrows deepens. He's staring up at Kaveh as though he's looking at an interesting rune that he's seen before but never really managed to decipher its intricacies. An unusual thing, as the Scribe tends to read Kaveh quite well and readily so.

He tilts his head, then looks at the bottle in his hand, tilting it, too, to double-check the amount of wine inside.] You're not bartering a lap dance for one-fifth of a bottle of wine. Kaveh.

[Maybe another moment, and he'd be able to say why it's so strange that Kaveh would rather grind on his lap than be courteous.] Is saying please so difficult?

[ He can't quite tell, through the drink, if Alhaitham is scolding him or disbelieving him. It doesn't matter— either way it's a rejection. Which, you know, is fine— he's a grown man, he can take it. It's probably better they don't do anything anyway, especially drunk...

Kaveh stands from the other's lap, a little wobblier than before, resolute in his decision not to show any disappointment, an intent that he fails immediately by scowling again as he straightens up.

At least his eyes are back on the bottle as he does. ]

My buzz is very quickly being ruined, so please will you give me the wine.

Edited 2023-07-18 13:41 (UTC)

[He feels cold, when Kaveh stands up, somehow, and even the extra swig he takes doesn't do much to warm him back up.

So he tugs the wavering architect back onto his lap. Missing entirely the disappointment in his face only because he's so intrigued by his own. Alhaitham nods, though, pleased. And presses the bottle onto one of his hands.]

Thank you. [He says, and it's strangely and honestly pleasant. Like he's satisfied that he found a solution to his problem.] Here you go.

[ He's too busy feeling kind of sorry for himself to have any expectations; even if he did, to be pulled back onto Alhaitham's lap isn't one he would hold. So he yelps when it suddenly happens, peering up at him as the bottle is pushed into his hand.

Mm. Maybe not quite as rejected as he thought.

With a smile, he accepts the bottle, tipping it to his lips for a swig, sighing pleasantly at the sharpness of the flavor on his tongue. With the bottle significantly emptier, he lowers it between them, his head tilting. As always with Alhaitham, words of gratitude struggle to reach his lips; in the spirit of the strangeness of this moment stretching between them, he forces one anyway: ]

Thanks.

[He's too busy looking at the way Kaveh's throat bobs as he swallows the wine, the way it stains his lips when he withdraws from the bottle. Alhaitham is staring at the bottle between them with the mental equivalent of what his headphones do and mute everything out.

He does jerk up, feeling the rumble of the architect's voice near him more than actually listening to the words.

(He should probably be concerned that he's so mindless, but he's not. Go figure.)]

What did you say?

[ Kaveh's own mental state is impaired enough that he doesn't realize Alhaitham's question to be a genuine one; yet again, his smile changes to a scowl as he stares at the other man. ]

We're not doing this again! [ he snaps, tone sharp with irritation. ] This isn't something worth thanking you three times! [ And he punctuates the point with another swig, two separate gulps against the lip of the bottle before he pulls it away, leaving mere dregs to swish at the bottom as he lowers it once more, ruby gaze defiant. ]

I said it once, so if you want more gratitude, thank yourself!

[ (Oh, but his head is spinning.) ]

[He frowns. Something about thankfulness, gratitude. Ah, so he had thanked him and he had missed it.

Some things apparently were never meant to align. He wonders if they ever will be with them after their first, only, and life-changing rift between them.

Alhaitham shakes his head. He's drunk. They both are. The sobering thought flits through him like a crystafly spooked by something near a statue.

But he does notice the slight sway on his own lap, and he leaves what he hopes is a steadying hand on the architect's shoulder. Wraps his fingers carefully around the bottle without removing it from Kaveh's grasp. Leans back, and brings his roommate with him, making them lean on each other for support, and Alhaitham's back on the steady surface of the back of the chair.

Maybe like this, the world will stop spinning around them.] Hm. Alright.

[ Alhaitham's frown is enough to show Kaveh that the other man didn't quite mean it the way it was taken; it's too late for him to apologize for the misunderstanding, though, nor does he think he could find the words. In moments like these, the space between their emotional bodies feels like an abyss, howling with cold dark winds.

Ironic perhaps, given the way Alhaitham's hand finds his shoulder, draws him closer as he leans back against the chair. Kaveh's face comes to a rest against his shoulder, the resultant, shuddering breath ghosting over the skin of the scribe's throat. ]

Mm, that doesn't sound like a "thank you", [ he murmurs with a laugh, instead of questioning the tug against the other's body. He's teasing, perhaps all he can do in the situation now that he's been left feeling guilty for misjudging Alhaitham's intent. ]

I have thanked you already.

[He finally does pluck the bottle from Kaveh's grasp, but it's only to have something to do, so he doesn't get distracted from the laugh warming the skin of his throat. He places the bottle back within the wrap of his fingers.] Do you want me to say it two more times?

No, not me. [ He chuckles again, shifts his eyes as he watches Alhaitham move the bottle back and forth between the two of them. ] You're thanking yourself, remember? Since you wanted gratitude so much...

[ He nudges the bottle a little more firmly in the other's direction, watching the last half inch slosh around in its base. ]

Drink. A reward for being so polite.

[ A pause, and then: ] What would you have to thank me for anyway?

I'm sure you can come up… [He clears his throat.] With the answer to that.

[He knows that more than any criticism he aims at Kaveh, the architect will take wrongly anything that may relate to what he feels about him, no matter how positive it is.

Alhaitham shakes his head, pretends to be much more tired than he is as he closes his eyes and lets the side of his head rest on Kaveh's.] I don't want to drink anymore.

[ He can? Kaveh tilts his head, peers up at Alhaitham through alcohol-hazed eyes. Weird. The scribe isn't the type to shy away from an answer, not even while drunk— so why is he doing so now?

Not only that, but he tiredly rests his head against Kaveh's, rejecting the last of the wine. Kaveh hums in response, tilting the bottle gently against his own lips until the last of the liquid touches his tongue; only then does he lower it into his lap, head canting against Alhaitham's in response. ]

You've never rejected my questions before— [ he murmurs, although there's that typical demanding note in his tone, ] —so why not tell me yourself? I won't be offended.

[ A strange promise to make, perhaps, if either of them were anyone else. But Alhaitham knows as well as he does that Kaveh is quick to take the scribe's words as insult more often than not. (Although the architect would deny it if asked, of course.)

His hands are idle now; one comes up to brace on the younger's chest. ] Come on. Tell me.

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