[ It might be a surprise to the scribe, the way the architect so suddenly laughs, a bright and amused sound that perhaps seems contrary to the tears shining in his eyes. He shuffles in closer to the other man, arms slipping around Alhaitham's shoulders in return, and there's a smile on his lips as he shakes his head, a fondness in his eyes behind the sheen of his tears. ]

I'm fine!

[ It's said with another soft laugh, a broadening of his smile as Alhaitham thumbs at the corner of his eye, smudging the tear back into his skin. And after the other kisses him, soft and gentle, he hovers close again, until their noses are practically brushing up against each other. ]

These aren't sad tears. I'm happy, you dork. You said something really nice. And no, [ is the quick interjection before the scribe can get irritated all over again ] it's not just the hangover! Maybe you didn't mean it to be romantic, but it was. So shut up and let me compliment you. Alright?

[ It's a demand emphasized with yet another kiss, a press of his mouth that's firmer this time, still gentle but with a little more fire behind it than those before. This time, he's not so quick to break it, either; his eyes sink shut, one hand lifts to cup the firm line of Alhaitham's jaw, and the slim line of his body molds itself a little more closely into the firm muscles of the other man's. ]

You'll have to forgive me— [ he mumbles against the scribe's mouth ] —but I've been wanting to do this for a really, really long time.