[ Consenting to acts of pleasure whilst drunk has never really been an issue for Kaveh before, and for a moment he thinks that this shouldn't be any different— but at the same time, he knows Alhaitham is right, even if it pains him to pull away when the scribe breaks their kiss. It isn't just an act of pleasure at stake here, after all, but something more serious than that, something he really doesn't want to risk screwing up any further than he already almost did.
And so even though Kaveh is so tempted by the way the scribe flinches, by the rough hunger in his kiss and his voice, he's compliant— perhaps somewhat pouty, but compliant— when Alhaitham suggests that they continue this in the morning. His fingers loosen their grip in the other's shirt, and he takes a step back, wobbling as he does, needing to put distance between them lest his desire leads him to try and close the space once more.
(He notices, too, the way the other man corrects himself, admitting his own share of the fault when Kaveh knows how much he hates to do so. Perhaps later, he thinks, he'll make it worth Alhaitham's while— a thought very much not assisting him in his decision to step away.) ]
I almost wish I hadn't gone drinking. [ Almost, because if he hadn't, they likely wouldn't be in this situation right now. ] But you're right.
[ The ambiguity of Alhaitham's statement doesn't go unnoticed, but perhaps for the first time in weeks— maybe even longer— Kaveh feels like he's not particularly worried about which of the possible outcomes might end up taking place. There's no denying that they need to talk more, and he can tell the scribe wants the physical connection at least almost as much as he does; both will happen at some point, and he's content to wait. ...Which in and of itself is weird, actually— Kaveh's not really the patient type in anything other than his working life, nor is he great at dealing with uncertainties when it comes to emotion— something he might need to think about later when he's less drunk.
For now, at least, he takes the last shaky steps back to the bed and sits down, looking up at Alhaitham as he moves to pull what's left of the covers (read: not much) over him, a thoughtful look on his face. ]
You promise we'll continue in the morning, though?
[ alhaitham responds contrarily, his expression bemused as the architect sulkily but agreeably withdraws, stumbling back towards his bed like a fawn taking its first steps. the lack of motor control kaveh seemed to have in this moment only further confirms that this was the right course of action considering he could barely walk, let alone navigate what had become a veritable minefield of miscommunication.
in a tone that's more glib than anything else; ]
I think a better question is: are you going to remember this in the morning?
[ at least, if the hangover didn't kill him, perhaps the embarrassment might.
with a short sigh at the sheer state of the blonde as he attempts to pull the covers left on his bed over his body, the scribe languidly turns on his heel and leaves the room for a moment (through the broken door - yes, he'd said he wouldn't pay to fix it, but really he'd take a look at it tomorrow). some distant clattering noises filter in from the rough direction of their kitchen area, and the taller man returns presently with a tall glass of water, putting it down soundly on kaveh's bedside table. ]
Drink this or you'll die. Probably.
[ he directs, tone neutral as he realises he's stepped on the other cover that had been dragged off as collateral damage earlier - and so he picks that up, dropping it unceremoniously back on the bed right over kaveh's blonde head. ]
[ It's an indignant parting shot, made as the other exits the room without another word, and for a moment Kaveh's pout only deepens, the architect strongly considering getting up from the tangle of the singular cover around him to try and follow Alhaitham out of the room— he knows the other said he should rest, but is he really going to just walk out without saying goodnight?
The intent really is there, to follow him out, but the body isn't willing; Kaveh ends up flopping face-first into the pillow with a groan, exhausted and drunk and now a little sulky on top of that.
And to be completely honest, despite his protest, there's certainly a more-than-probable chance of his memory failing him— it has before, after all. But at least right now he stubbornly believes— has convinced himself even— that it's impossible on account of the sheer magnitude of what has happened here, tonight, between them.
He rolls onto his side when Alhaitham returns to the room, and the smile on his lips is decidedly soft, at least until it's replaced with a scowl when the cover is dropped onto his face right as he's in the middle of reaching out for it, causing him instead to flail, nearly knock the thing off the nightstand, and curse the scribe under his breath— in actuality incredibly noisily— while he rearranges the covers until they're over him and not just his head. ]
You are such a jerk. [ But there's no venom in his voice at all, the smile returning again in the next second as he recovers the glass and drinks from it. ] Thanks.
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sempiternals2023-02-11 10:39 pm
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And so even though Kaveh is so tempted by the way the scribe flinches, by the rough hunger in his kiss and his voice, he's compliant— perhaps somewhat pouty, but compliant— when Alhaitham suggests that they continue this in the morning. His fingers loosen their grip in the other's shirt, and he takes a step back, wobbling as he does, needing to put distance between them lest his desire leads him to try and close the space once more.
(He notices, too, the way the other man corrects himself, admitting his own share of the fault when Kaveh knows how much he hates to do so. Perhaps later, he thinks, he'll make it worth Alhaitham's while— a thought very much not assisting him in his decision to step away.) ]
I almost wish I hadn't gone drinking. [ Almost, because if he hadn't, they likely wouldn't be in this situation right now. ] But you're right.
[ The ambiguity of Alhaitham's statement doesn't go unnoticed, but perhaps for the first time in weeks— maybe even longer— Kaveh feels like he's not particularly worried about which of the possible outcomes might end up taking place. There's no denying that they need to talk more, and he can tell the scribe wants the physical connection at least almost as much as he does; both will happen at some point, and he's content to wait. ...Which in and of itself is weird, actually— Kaveh's not really the patient type in anything other than his working life, nor is he great at dealing with uncertainties when it comes to emotion— something he might need to think about later when he's less drunk.
For now, at least, he takes the last shaky steps back to the bed and sits down, looking up at Alhaitham as he moves to pull what's left of the covers (read: not much) over him, a thoughtful look on his face. ]
You promise we'll continue in the morning, though?
no subject
[ alhaitham responds contrarily, his expression bemused as the architect sulkily but agreeably withdraws, stumbling back towards his bed like a fawn taking its first steps. the lack of motor control kaveh seemed to have in this moment only further confirms that this was the right course of action considering he could barely walk, let alone navigate what had become a veritable minefield of miscommunication.
in a tone that's more glib than anything else; ]
I think a better question is: are you going to remember this in the morning?
[ at least, if the hangover didn't kill him, perhaps the embarrassment might.
with a short sigh at the sheer state of the blonde as he attempts to pull the covers left on his bed over his body, the scribe languidly turns on his heel and leaves the room for a moment (through the broken door - yes, he'd said he wouldn't pay to fix it, but really he'd take a look at it tomorrow). some distant clattering noises filter in from the rough direction of their kitchen area, and the taller man returns presently with a tall glass of water, putting it down soundly on kaveh's bedside table. ]
Drink this or you'll die. Probably.
[ he directs, tone neutral as he realises he's stepped on the other cover that had been dragged off as collateral damage earlier - and so he picks that up, dropping it unceremoniously back on the bed right over kaveh's blonde head. ]
no subject
[ It's an indignant parting shot, made as the other exits the room without another word, and for a moment Kaveh's pout only deepens, the architect strongly considering getting up from the tangle of the singular cover around him to try and follow Alhaitham out of the room— he knows the other said he should rest, but is he really going to just walk out without saying goodnight?
The intent really is there, to follow him out, but the body isn't willing; Kaveh ends up flopping face-first into the pillow with a groan, exhausted and drunk and now a little sulky on top of that.
And to be completely honest, despite his protest, there's certainly a more-than-probable chance of his memory failing him— it has before, after all. But at least right now he stubbornly believes— has convinced himself even— that it's impossible on account of the sheer magnitude of what has happened here, tonight, between them.
He rolls onto his side when Alhaitham returns to the room, and the smile on his lips is decidedly soft, at least until it's replaced with a scowl when the cover is dropped onto his face right as he's in the middle of reaching out for it, causing him instead to flail, nearly knock the thing off the nightstand, and curse the scribe under his breath— in actuality incredibly noisily— while he rearranges the covers until they're over him and not just his head. ]
You are such a jerk. [ But there's no venom in his voice at all, the smile returning again in the next second as he recovers the glass and drinks from it. ] Thanks.