After a drunk night out, Kaveh wakes up in Alhaitham's bed thinking that they fucked (they did not), thereby initiating an internal crisis, which Alhaitham finds pretty amusing.

CW: Mature, not explicit.

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Kaveh comes to with a raging headache in a bed that is not his.

Not the first time. Certainly not the last. Kaveh doesn't particularly like staying the night with his casual fucks but sometimes it's better than coming home and thinking about the man he'd rather have and cannot. Because he's tried, flaunted about the house half-naked, ass and legs on display; fucked himself on his fingers with the bedroom door open; other horrifically embarrassing things.

The worst part is that he knows Alhaitham wants him. His eyes track his form when he thinks Kaveh isn't looking. He swallows thickly, throat bobbing as Kaveh strides around in one of his shirts. Alhaitham is not unaffected. Kaveh's heard him jerk off in his room, calling out his name through the wall.

Still. Maybe it's better this way. Less messy. Not as awkward. Kaveh sighs as he rolls over and presses his face into the warm back of his assumed former partner. The scent of sage and sandalwood assaults his nose, so similar to—

Kaveh freezes. His gaze roams over the broad backside of the other man, bare, soft skin on display, the sharp jut of his shoulder blades shadowed in the mid-morning light that filters in from the window. Green and gold bed sheets. Alhaitham.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

Did they...?

Kaveh looks down and finds himself trouserless but still wearing his underthings. Not the worst sign but he doesn't always sleep naked post doing the do, and Alhaitham—well, he has no shirt on. And Kaveh is cuddled up to him, face practically shoved against his spine.

They definitely fucked. They had to, right?

Still, it's hard to imagine Alhaitham indulging unless he was blitzed as well. He has a modicum of respect for as annoying as he is, or rather, Kaveh would like to think so. But... but.

Kaveh. Alhaitham's voice rings out in Kaveh's mind like yesterday, hot and heavy, raspy with want. Kaveh, Kaveh—

There is a distinct lack of soreness. Hands? Mouths? Heated frotting in the sheets? There is no end to the way that Kaveh's mind fills in the gaps and really, he should be wholly embarrassed by how much thought he's giving this. He blames it on the want, the visceral need that sings through his gut. Alhaitham is a curse both on his mind and his dick.

The mattress dips as Alhaitham rolls over. "Your thoughts aren't very subtle," he says, resting his cheek against his pillow.

"You can't hear my thoughts."

"No, but you may as well wear them on your sleeve."

"Where are my trousers, Alhaitham?"

Alhaitham's mouth parts. He lifts the sheets and takes a peek, eyes grazing the length of Kaveh's bare leg. Then he drops the cover. "Ah. You kicked those off last night as I was trying to wrestle you into your bed. They're somewhere by the door if my memory serves."

"And why wouldn't it?"

Alhaitham arches an eyebrow. "Do you even remember last night?"

"If I did, would I be bothering you with such annoying questions? My trousers, Alhaitham. And, if you were wrestling me into my bed, how did I wind up here?"

"The same way you did last time you were this drunk—with the claim that you were cold and lonely."

So, Alhaitham has a point. The last time Kaveh was black-out inebriated he may have snuck into Alhaitham's bed under the guise of wanting to cuddle. Alhaitham let him, hugging Kaveh close, combing fingers through his hair, and saying nothing about it in the morning.

Alhaitham wants you too. Gods, the pining will do them in, won't it? Too bad Kaveh fucks everything up and he isn't willing to ruin the tenuous friendship they've halfway repaired.

"My—"

"If you really need your trousers," cuts in Alhaitham dryly, "there is nothing stopping you from getting them."

"Why are you shirtless?" asks Kaveh instead.

"Because it's hot? Kaveh, there is little use in interrogating me about my sleeping habits—"

"This isn't about your sleeping habits, it's about us fucking!"

Alhaitham blinks. Once, twice, a third time, all slowly, those long lashes of his infuriatingly handsome. And then, in true Alhaitham fashion, he has to ruin it. "I think I would remember debasing myself with the likes of you."

Oh. Oh. That's fucking rude. That's—

"Debasing?" screeches Kaveh, sitting up in the bed. It's drowning in one of Alhaitham's shirts, tousled and rumpled linen pooling around his hips. "Debasing?" Kaveh throws his legs over the side of the mattress and stands. "I wasn't aware that I was so little of a catch—"

"Kaveh."

"—And Gods forbid, maybe I didn't think it was such a terrible idea. Alhaitham, you—" Kaveh practically growls in frustration, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm too tired for this. My head is killing me."

Alhaitham is blessedly quiet when he speaks next. "And that's why I didn't kick you out when you snuck in here. I'm not so cruel. Besides, I... don't dislike sharing the bed."

Kaveh's face scrunches up. "No, just the idea of sleeping with me."

"Well, if I had a choice, I'd rather it be sober."

If he had a choice. If he—

Kaveh stares at him, unsure how to respond. And Alhaitham stares back with that insufferably blank, schooled expression of his. Then, Alhaitham continues with, "The next time you are drunk, I can leave you at the tavern if you'd rather."

He does not rather. He wouldn't. Kaveh is less likely to entertain the thought of them together unless he's three drinks in and those nights when Alhaitham walks him home are the closest he'll get to true first contact.

Alhaitham must decide the time for teasing is over because his voice softens and he says next, "Kaveh you are not... undesirable."

Kaveh sniffs. "Easy for you to say when hindsight is twenty-twenty. Anyway, I think coffee is in order. And no, I'm not making you any. You can brew your own damn cup."

He finds his trousers in the hallway, just outside of Alhaitham's door. By the time he tugs them on, Alhaitham is vertical and headed to the bathroom. Alhaitham pauses as he passes by to drop a hand against Kaveh's hair, ruffling it.

"Idiot," hisses Kaveh, brushing him off. He definitely doesn't stare at Alhaitham's divine back muscles as he turns away.