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The door creaked open with a soft click, letting in a whisper of cool night air. The faint scent of wine, fresh grass, and city lanterns drifted in with it. Alhaitham didn’t lift his eyes from his book—not yet. He could already tell who it was from the sound of uneven footsteps padding in over the polished floorboards, the faint scrape of a shoe kicked off too lazily, the rustle of fabric being tugged off and dropped without care.
Alhaitham turned a page slowly, waiting.
There was a soft, clumsy giggle—light and breathy. A sound so different from Kaveh’s usual exasperated sighs or passionate lectures. No, this laugh was fogged with wine and glittered with some emotion Alhaitham couldn’t name just yet. He closed his book.
“Kaveh.”
The architect stood by the door, blinking slowly, coat slung half off his shoulder, his hair messier than usual—like wind had tousled it too kindly. He was glowing under the faint lamp light, flushed cheeks and glossy eyes making him look like he was caught in a hazy dream. His lips curled upward the moment he spotted Alhaitham.
“Haiyi…” he murmured, dragging the name out like a melody.
He walked—no, floated—across the room, every step swaying a little more than it should. And then, without warning, he dropped beside the couch, arms looping lazily around Alhaitham’s neck, pulling himself into his lap like he belonged there. Like he always had.
Alhaitham caught him with practiced ease. One hand steady on Kaveh’s waist, the other brushing hair from his face.
“You’re drunk.”
“Not that drunk,” Kaveh whispered, burying his face in Alhaitham’s shoulder, “Just a lil’ floaty. Like a cloud. A cloud who loves you.”
Alhaitham blinked.
Kaveh giggled again, leaning back just far enough to look at him—eyes half-lidded, shining, lips parted like he was about to say something important. “You smell nice. Did you always smell nice? Or am I just noticing it now ‘cause my nose is, like, superpowered…”
Alhaitham stared.
And yet, his arms tightened just slightly around him. His voice was low, almost fond, “Should I be worried you’re developing superpowers when drunk?”
Kaveh gasped dramatically. “Maybe! Maybe I can smell your love now.”
Alhaitham closed his eyes and let out the softest sigh—more amused than exasperated.
Outside, the city was quiet. The window let in pale silver moonlight, painting the edges of Kaveh’s golden hair with a glow so gentle it almost didn’t seem real. The air was warm with the scent of sleep and wine and something too soft to name.
And in Alhaitham’s lap, Kaveh hummed a sweet little tune that didn’t exist. Arms wrapped around him like he was something safe. Something home.
Alhaitham, despite everything, let his fingers settle at the small of Kaveh’s back.
Kaveh nuzzled against Alhaitham’s collarbone, sighing like he’d just found the softest pillow in the world.
“You know,” he mumbled, voice barely more than a slur of warmth and affection, “I used to think you were soooo cold and boring. Like a rock. An expensive rock. Like a… statue that thinks too much.”
Alhaitham raised a brow, lips twitching. “And now?”
“Now I think you’re…” Kaveh paused, eyes fluttering shut again. “You’re like… like a heated rock. One of those warm ones they put on your back at spas. Still hard and stoic, but… but cozy. And hot. In both meanings.”
There was a long silence. Then Alhaitham deadpanned, “What a glowing confession of love.”
Kaveh burst into soft, sleepy laughter, boneless in his lap. “Shhh, I’m being romantic.”
“You’re being delusional.”
“Nooo…” Kaveh whined, tightening his hold around Alhaitham like a clingy koala. “I’m being honest. Honest and in love.”
Alhaitham shifted, and his hand came up to stroke gently through Kaveh’s hair. Slow. Careful. Familiar.
“You say that like it’s something new.”
“It feels new every day,” Kaveh whispered, voice trembling with sincerity that made Alhaitham pause. “Every day I look at you and I’m like… ‘Wow. I tricked this man into loving me. How.’”
A quiet breath escaped Alhaitham. Soft, warm, fond. He leaned forward, resting his chin lightly atop Kaveh’s head.
“You didn’t trick me,” he murmured, “I fell willingly. Just very slowly. Like an idiot.”
Kaveh let out a sleepy giggle-snort. “You're the idiot?? I’m the one who gets jealous of your books.”
“You should be. They don’t argue with me half as much.”
Kaveh lifted his head, squinting at him. “That’s mean.”
Alhaitham smirked. “You love it.”
“I do,” Kaveh admitted shamelessly, before flopping back into his chest with a dramatic sigh. “Haiyi, my heart feels all warm and fluffy. Like you microwaved it.”
“That sounds deeply unhealthy.”
“Then you make me emotionally unwell.”
A snort. Alhaitham couldn’t help it. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Kaveh’s temple, burying it in his hair, and let the silence fall between them like snow.
Outside, the moon drifted higher, and the quiet of the night wrapped around them like a silk blanket. Kaveh’s breathing slowed. His fingers curled in the fabric of Alhaitham’s shirt like he was scared it would all disappear.
Maybe drunk Kaveh was a bit too honest. But it wasn’t the kind of honesty Alhaitham minded.
He liked hearing the things Kaveh only dared to whisper when he thought his words were floating. He liked being the one Kaveh clung to when the world spun too fast.
He liked being loved—loudly, foolishly, sincerely.
Even if it came with comparisons to heated rocks.
The moment Alhaitham even shifted to stand, Kaveh let out a dramatic whimper and clung tighter.
“Nooo, nooo, where are you going?” he slurred, clutching his shirt with the strength of someone five glasses in.
“I’m taking you to bed,” Alhaitham muttered, already slipping an arm beneath Kaveh’s legs, the other steady at his back.
“Oh my god,” Kaveh gasped as he was lifted with embarrassing ease. “You’re so strong. Like, stupidly strong. I forget sometimes. You could totally throw me.”
Alhaitham blinked. “...Do you want me to?”
“I mean, not right now. But like. Later. Maybe. If the mood’s right.”
Alhaitham bit down a sigh as he adjusted Kaveh in his arms, carrying him down the hall with practiced calm.
“You smell nice,” Kaveh mumbled again, forehead pressed to Alhaitham’s shoulder. “You always smell like books and clean laundry and like… a sexy philosophy major.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Yes, but it’s also a warning. If you keep being this hot and carrying me around, I’m going to propose.”
“We already live together.”
“Exactly. You’re halfway doomed.”
Alhaitham stepped into their shared bedroom, dimly lit by the glow of their bedside lamp, and gently lowered Kaveh onto the mattress. But the moment he tried to pull back, Kaveh reached up with grabby hands.
“Wait. Come back. Lay with me.”
Alhaitham raised an unimpressed brow. “You’re very demanding when drunk.”
“Because I want you. I missed you.”
“We’ve been apart for three hours.”
“Three very long, very lonely hours where I had to pretend wine was as good as cuddles,” Kaveh pouted.
Alhaitham gave in.
He always gave in.
With a quiet sigh that held more affection than annoyance, he sat beside Kaveh, letting the blonde immediately pull him down and wrap around him like a sleepy vine.
“You’re comfy,” Kaveh whispered, nose buried in Alhaitham’s neck. “And warm. And… have I said you’re really, reallystrong?”
“You have. Several times.”
“Well. Let me say it again. You’re really strong. And I trust you so much. Even when you’re annoying.”
Alhaitham huffed out a sound that could almost be called a laugh. He rested his chin on top of Kaveh’s head and closed his eyes.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me,” Kaveh sang softly.
“Yes,” Alhaitham answered, low and certain, voice so steady it made Kaveh melt all over again. “I do.”
And then, in the quiet, with their limbs tangled and the night holding them like a secret, Kaveh murmured, “You’re like… my hero. My hot, emotionally repressed hero.”
Alhaitham didn’t reply. He just sighed, and kissed his forehead.
Kaveh looked up with glassy eyes, lips pushed into a soft pout. His hair was slightly mussed, his cheeks flushed from warmth and wine, and his voice—oh, his voice—was soaked in that dreamy, sleepy lilt only drunken affection could bring.
“If you weren’t so mean,” he mumbled, dramatically, “I would marry you.”
Alhaitham blinked down at him. “You’d marry me if I wasn’t mean?”
“Yes,” Kaveh huffed, resting his hand dramatically over his heart. “But you’re all snarky and logical and emotionally constipated.”
A beat.
“…So you’d rather marry someone who isn’t emotionally constipated?”
“No,” Kaveh whispered, eyes closing again as his fingers fisted into Alhaitham’s shirt, “I like your emotional constipation. It makes your soft moments feel like little miracles. You’re my miracle, Haiyi.”
Alhaitham just stared at him for a moment, the tiniest crease forming between his brows. He looked like he wanted to respond—something snide, probably—but all he did was sigh through his nose, carrying Kaveh the rest of the way like he was holding his whole world.
“I’ll remember this conversation tomorrow,” he muttered.
“Noooo,” Kaveh groaned, burying his face into Alhaitham’s chest. “Forget it forever. Let it die with the wine.”
“I’ll have it framed,” Alhaitham deadpanned.
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“…You’re right.”
“…”
“...Haiyi?”
Alhaitham didn’t open his eyes, but he hummed in response, arm already wrapped around Kaveh’s waist, fingers idly tracing the curve of his back beneath the blanket.
“Can I have a kiss?” Kaveh asked, voice barely a whisper, slurred and sleepy. “Just one. Or two. Or seven.”
Alhaitham cracked open one eye, staring down at the flushed, sleepy mess tangled against him. Kaveh was blinking slowly, pout already forming like he might cry if he didn’t get affection immediately.
“You’re insatiable,” Alhaitham murmured, but he shifted anyway—leaned in—and pressed the softest kiss to Kaveh’s temple.
“Mm… not there,” Kaveh whispered. “Lips.”
So he got another.
And another.
And another, until Kaveh giggled through the fifth one like a drunk teenager, and Alhaitham’s quiet “You said seven” had Kaveh melting in his arms.
When the seventh kiss landed gently at the corner of his mouth, Kaveh sighed like it was the best thing in the world.
“Thank you,” he breathed, nuzzling closer. “You’re so nice to me when no one’s looking.”
Alhaitham didn’t answer this time. He just kissed his hair and let Kaveh drift off again.
Kaveh woke up to the steady warmth of sunlight washing over the sheets, eyelids fluttering open with a soft groan. His head throbbed. His mouth was dry. His soul felt like it had been wrung out and hung on a line to dry in public.
“…Ugh.”
He sat up—too fast. Collapsing back down with a pathetic whimper.
“Good morning,” came Alhaitham’s voice, calm and maddeningly put-together, from somewhere near the dresser. “You look like death.”
“Thank you,” Kaveh croaked.
Without asking, Alhaitham set a cool glass of water on the nightstand and slipped a painkiller into Kaveh’s palm. Then, he disappeared briefly, returning with a warm, damp cloth to press gently against Kaveh’s forehead.
“Why are you… so nice to me,” Kaveh mumbled, half-buried in pillows, the cloth sliding slightly as he shifted.
“Because you make poor decisions.”
“Like dating you?”
Alhaitham shot him a look. “Like drinking six glasses of wine, climbing me like a tree, and then emotionally confessing between dramatic declarations of love.”
Kaveh froze. “...I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“Noooo,” he groaned into the blanket. “I’ll never drink again. I’m gonna move out. Join a monastery.”
“You also said you’d marry me if I wasn’t so mean.”
Kaveh peeked out from the covers, cheeks flushing. “Well. That tracks.”
Alhaitham didn’t say anything. Just smiled a little. Almost fond. Almost shy.
Later that day, while Kaveh finally managed to drag himself out of bed and into the shower, Alhaitham sat at his desk, fingers lazily scrolling through his browser.
Tabs still open. Most forgotten.
“Subtle ring designs with gold accents – minimal but meaningful”
“How to measure someone’s ring size without them noticing.”
He didn’t close them.