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When Alhaitham first comes home, Kaveh thinks nothing of it. He doesn’t even cast a glance as he hears the door open, followed by the sound of Alhaitham’s quiet footsteps. He’s used to his housemate coming home late after doing research out in the rainforest, the desert, or wherever else his projects lead him.
“You’re lucky, dinner should still be warm,” Kaveh says, just then lifting his gaze from his blueprints and looking over his shoulder to see Alhaitham. Upon the sight of him, Kaveh practically chokes, “You’re— you’re bleeding!”
Kaveh jumps from his seat and approaches Alhaitham, who allows himself to lean his shoulder against the wall.
“It’s nothing,” Alhaitham responds, shooing Kaveh away with a flick of his wrist. Kaveh doesn’t budge, eyes frantically scanning Alhaitham’s body and making mental note of each of his wounds: there’s a cut above his eye that has bled down his face, a shallow slash to his torso that’s ripped his shirt, and several scrapes that litter his hands.
“Archons, what did you get into this time?” Kaveh inquires, eyes flickering between the wounds. His voice is soft, just above a murmur.
“You almost sound concerned,” Alhaitham says, attempting to walk away. Kaveh seizes him by the wrist.
“That’s because I am,” he retorts, “You’re injured, Haitham.”
“Astute observation,” Alhaitham deadpans. “Now, let me go clean up.”
Kaveh’s grip around Alhaitham’s wrist does not loosen, Alhaitham’s skin warm beneath Kaveh’s fingertips. “Let me help you.” Before Alhaitham has the chance to respond, Kaveh continues, “I always did better than you in health classes.”
Alhaitham blinks at him, unamused. “It’s not as if I need any serious care,” he says, glancing down at himself.
True, he is hardly still bleeding, but Kaveh knows how much Alhaitham despises the aftermath of a battle, how much he hates cleaning up other peoples’ messes—how much he hates cleaning up his own messes.
So, despite his qualms, Alhaitham allows Kaveh to drag him to the bathroom, where he sits on the ledge of the tub while Kaveh rifles through cabinets to find what he needs. He sets the supplies on the tub ledge beside Alhaitham before turning to wet a cloth with warm, soapy water. When he turns back around, Alhaitham has taken off his shirt to give Kaveh access to the wound on his torso—still, Kaveh curses himself when his breath gets caught in his chest.
Regardless, he situates himself on his knees in front of Alhaitham, ignoring the lump in his throat. He leans closer to press the cloth to Alhaitham’s skin around the injury, wiping away the dried blood there. He tries not to let himself get distracted by noticing the way Alhaitham’s body shifts as he breathes, still slightly laborious from the fight.
The wound itself is nothing serious, perhaps a thrown knife grazed Alhaitham’s side, or he got nicked by a sword. Still, Alhaitham can hold his own in battle, so it’s unusual for him even to be this hurt after an excursion for research. Kaveh is well aware of the nuisances that the Sumeru wild holds from his own research trips, so he wonders… what exactly had Alhaitham faced to leave him so roughed up?
“Tell me what happened,” Kaveh demands, then. His gaze meets Alhaitham’s for a moment, before Alhaitham tilts his head upwards, looking at the ceiling.
“And if I don’t?” he asks. Kaveh’s hand stills for a moment. He can’t think of a retort before Alhaitham speaks again, humoring him, “Treasure hoarders snuck up on me.”
“‘Snuck up on you’...?”
Alhaitham lets out a breath. “Yes.”
Kaveh clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Suddenly, it makes sense. “You were wearing your headphones, weren’t you?”
Alhaitham’s resulting silence speaks louder than words, and a burst of annoyance flares beneath Kaveh’s skin.
“And how many times have I told you—”
“The birds were too loud. I couldn’t concentrate.” Alhaitham looks down again, only to be met with Kaveh’s face contorted in frustration.
“It’s dangerous, Alhaitham!” he snaps, shifting his focus from the cut on Alhaitham’s torso to the one above his eye, where he has to push Alhaitham’s hair out of his face. As he works, their faces are hardly a hands-width apart.
“I can handle myself,” Alhaitham says as Kaveh gently drags the cloth across his brow bone.
Kaveh snarks, “Until one day, someone sneaks up behind you and bashes you over the head, what then?”
Alhaitham sighs deeply. “You know, I almost didn’t come straight home because I knew you’d make a fuss.”
“I—” Kaveh cuts off, his mouth hanging open. “Of course I’d make a fuss! You come home all bloody, and I’m supposed to not care? I’m not you.”
Alhaitham blinks at Kaveh, obviously fed up with him. “Look, I can take care of myself. Give me that.”
Kaveh shoves the cloth into his uninjured hand. “Fine. Have fun.” He stands and lifts his hands to rub at his temples, frustrated. He storms out of the bathroom but pauses in the hallway. The fact of the matter is that Alhaitham did come straight home, knowing Kaveh would fuss over him. Knowing Kaveh would be here, knowing Kaveh would take care of him, despite his arguments.
He hesitates, and then he peers back into the bathroom to see Alhaitham wince cleaning the scrapes on his opposite hand. He sighs, stepping back into the threshold. “Alhaitham,” he says, and the other man looks over at him. “I know you hate this.”
Kaveh is no stranger to Alhaitham’s sensory issues. It’s not just sounds; the wrong shirt texture used to have Alhaitham shifting in his seat all day during their time as students, and he has never taken to eating soups. He fashions his life around his comfort, and that includes avoiding stimulations he can’t stand. Kaveh’s certain the dried blood on his skin is driving him up the wall, but he won’t easily show it.
“I’m not a child. I can take care of it,” Alhaitham refocuses his attention on his hands, mouth pulled into a taut line.
“It’s not—You don’t have to be a child to need help,” Kaveh responds, reentering the bathroom and setting a hand on his hip. “You’re grimacing, Alhaitham.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Alhaitham sighs again. “Are you going to keep pestering me?”
Kaveh lifts an eyebrow. “Tell me you truly don’t want my help.”
He takes the resulting silence as a win, sitting on the tub ledge beside Alhaitham, their thighs pressing together at the sides. He takes the cloth from Alhaitham and then his hand, holding it in his own, palm to palm.
They sit quietly while Kaveh works, carefully cleaning blood away from Alhaitham’s fingernails. When Kaveh finishes with his hand, he moves to pick up the alcohol solution and cotton pads. Alhaitham squints his eyes, just slightly, anticipating the sting. Kaveh can’t help the slight fond smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.
Still, Alhaitham inhales sharply as Kaveh begins to cleanse the wound on his torso, though he holds still.
“Let me come with you next time,” Kaveh says suddenly, glancing up from his work.
Alhaitham just looks at him.
“I know how much sounds can bother you. If I came with you, you could wear your headphones while I watch your back. Plus, we could share travel costs—”
Alhaitham chews at the inside of his lip. “That wouldn’t work,” he interrupts.
“What?” Kaveh is nearly offended. “Why not?”
“You’re too distracting.”
“I’m—” he starts, now rightly offended.
Alhaitham doesn’t let him get anything else out before he says, “Don’t take that the wrong way.”
“Pff. Is there a correct way to take that?”
Alhaitham doesn’t answer, so Kaveh resumes tending to Alhaitham’s injuries, again moving to the cut above his eye. He takes extra care, his mouth hanging slightly ajar as he concentrates. Alhaitham’s eyes flutter shut, grey eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks.
“I just don’t want you getting seriously hurt,” Kaveh says, and it comes out softer than he’d intended.
“I’m not your responsibility,” Alhaitham replies, not opening his eyes.
“It’s not like that.” Kaveh takes Alhaitham’s hand in his own again, pressing an alcohol-damp cotton pad to his wounds. “I’m allowed to care about you.”
Alhaitham laughs, all breathy. “Says who?”
“Oh, shut up,” Kaveh mutters, finally reaching for the bandages.
As he begins to fasten them, Alhaitham speaks, “Kaveh, you’re the only person I’d let do this.”
Kaveh freezes in place, for just a moment. “It’s not like you didn’t put up a fight,” he retorts, “Twice.”
Alhaitham’s gaze is fixed on his hands, on how Kaveh gingerly wraps bandages around his fingers. “I can tend to my own injuries,” he says, “But you’re right, I hate it.”
Kaveh laughs a little. “Yeah, I know.”
“So… thank you.”
And then Kaveh’s fastening a bandage above Alhaitham’s eye, their faces so close, Alhaitham’s eyes trained on Kaveh’s… Kaveh feels a rising warmth in his chest, quickly finishing with the bandage so he can pull away—
“Wait,” Alhaitham says, setting a hand on Kaveh’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
“Yes?”
Alhaitham’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I meant what I said,” he says with effort. “You’re the only one.”
Kaveh’s heart pounds in his ears. Still, he says, “And yet, you won’t let me protect you, because I’m too distracting.”
“You’re—yes, Kaveh. Entirely too distracting.”
It’s not often that Alhaitham trips over his words. Despite how much he enjoys seeing Alhaitham flustered, Kaveh still feels that Alhaitham is calling him an annoyance, so he says, “With your headphones on, it’s not like you’d even hear my incessant yammering or—“
“You’re misunderstanding,” Alhaitham interrupts. “I find it hard to concentrate around you.”
“And why is that, Alhaitham? Enlighten me as to why I shouldn’t be offended.”
“You’re being willfully obtuse.”
Kaveh guffaws. “You think I can read your mind.”
“My point isn’t difficult to understand.”
Kaveh stares at him. He stares back. There’s hope twinkling at the back of Kaveh’s brain, that perhaps Alhaitham means… could he mean…?
“Say it outright,” Kaveh demands.
“No,” Alhaitham says.
“You’re so difficult,” Kaveh groans, finally pulling away from Alhaitham, though staying seated with him. Alhaitham traces the bandages on his fingers with the opposite hand as if admiring Kaveh’s work.
“Kaveh,” he says, meeting Kaveh’s gaze. “You certainly can’t be unaware of the fact that—” He stops, shaking his head. “You must know how I feel about you—to let you care for me. To be distracted by you.”
Kaveh bites at the inside of his cheek. Alhaitham, in the correct conditions, is incredibly hard to distract. Students know that getting his attention is a futile effort while he’s studying or working in the House of Daena, and it’d taken physical harm for him to be distracted from his work by the treasure hoarders.
And yet, when Kaveh approaches him while he works, he turns off his headphones. He allows Kaveh to pick fights. He pays attention to Kaveh even when he should be working, when he wouldn’t bother taking his nose out of a book for anyone else.
Of course, Kaveh is aware of this. But he never considered the fact that Alhaitham allows himself the distraction because he… what, he enjoys it? Kaveh is the only one he’d let tend his wounds, and the only one he lets fuss over him. The only one.
“You…” he trails off, pulse hammering in his ears. If he’s wrong, Alhaitham will never let him live this down. Still, he takes the plunge: “You love me.”
Kaveh holds Alhaitham’s gaze, despite how much he wants to run away and never come back.
“If it’d taken you any longer to figure that out, I might’ve changed my mind,” Alhaitham teases, though he does look a little… shy. Cute, Kaveh thinks.
He doesn’t react to the insult, really, because relief flows through his body like a tidal wave. “You love me,” he says again.
This time, Alhaitham lets out an amused huff. “And you…?”
Kaveh kisses him in lieu of an answer, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Alhaitham sinks into the touch, visibly relaxing beneath Kaveh’s hands. And how Kaveh cherishes that fact, how he revels in the warmth that radiates from Alhaitham’s body. How he has wished for this, for what he thought was the impossibility of Alhaitham loving him back.
And when Kaveh begins to pull away, Alhaitham surges forward to catch his lips again, his own hands finding their place on Kaveh’s sides—a touch uncertain, a touch shy. As if he’s not sure he’s truly allowed to touch Kaveh the way he wants… Kaveh presses another fervent kiss to his lips to tell him it’s okay.
Kaveh sighs happily against Alhaitham’s mouth, then pressing a kiss to his cheek and one to the tip of his nose. He brings his hands to hold Alhaitham’s jaw, admiring his face from so close. His gaze catches on the bandage above his eye, and he reaches up to trace it with his fingers.
“You have to be more careful,” he says, voice soft. “Especially if you won’t let me distract you on your research trips.”
“Okay,” Alhaitham responds. “I’ll be more careful.”
Kaveh almost laughs. Oh, how easily Alhaitham has become tamed. For now, for now.
For now, Alhaitham allows distraction in the form of Kaveh’s hands and lips, and Kaveh won’t take that for granted. He leads the other man to the living room, where they lounge on one of the couches (far more comfortable than the bathtub ledge), Kaveh atop Alhaitham with their legs intertwining and chests pressed together.
The distraction continues through the night, languid kisses and breathy laughter filling up their home.