[ When he has time to think about this later on— outside, that is, of the saccharine pink fog of Alhaitham Alhaitham Alhaitham that currently clouds the parts of his mind not already shrouded by the hangover— he'll be amazed at the contented laze they slip into when the scribe slides off him and pulls him back into his embrace.

Never before now has he been able to just lie in bed and not worry about something— about work, about mora. Even with other partners he's found himself restless, trying to initiate something extra or even getting out of bed to cook. Lying around in bed has always been his roommate's thing, not his, and yet—

Really, Kaveh can't imagine he'd rather be anywhere else. Between the soft sigh on Alhaitham's lips and the rhythm of fingers at his back, paired with the idle ridiculousness of the words on his tongue, the architect feels like he could lie here forever.

It's in the spirit of that feeling that he lets the comments about his intellect go— someday he'll have Alhaitham admit it out loud, screw this internal validation thing— and instead just presses his own face into the hollow of the scribe's throat, a soft chuckle on his lips, lazy kisses left sweetly against the skin. ]

If I get to have a say in this— [ he murmurs, a playful lilt in his voice, ] —I would suggest that you each "get" me full time, but in different ways. Experience has shown that you and I shouldn't work together, after all, and quite frankly I'd rather not be like this with any of my colleagues.

[ A tilt of his head and a graze of his lips along the bottom of Alhaitham's chin emphasize his statement. ]

What say you, O Grand Scribe?