Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somehow, Kaveh had imagined mornings would be different by now. A different view outside the window. Maybe even a different window entirely. Perhaps (and Alhaitham would sneer at him for this) a different sun. Not in the literal sense, but one that felt warmer. Brighter. Less indifferent. One that actually tried to carve through Sumeru's overgrowth and towering clouds.

Instead, each morning was the same. Just him, the kitchen, and the deafening whir of Alhaitham's ancient coffee grinder.

Living with an alpha was bad enough. Living with this alpha was worse. Every three months, Alhaitham went into rut, which was to be expected. Yet even in this state, he still found the energy to argue: about chores, about politics, about their shared past. Not to mention the petty debates from their Akademiya years, ones Kaveh had replayed in his head over and over, agonizing over what he should have said, what he shouldn't have said … only for Alhaitham to bring them up first, years later, whenever he saw an opening to humiliate Kaveh all over again.

The only bright side: Alhaitham seemed just as miserable. Their cohabitation was a mutual, if temporary, disaster.

Kaveh often dreamed of the moment when he'd pack his life into boxes and never look back. But that day still felt distant; so distant that Kaveh couldn't even conjure a satisfying vision of it. His mind kept snagging on logistics: even if he found a home within his budget, his mounting debts sapped the joy from those fantasies.

"Mr. Kaveh? Is something the matter?"

Ah. Right. The meeting. His client: an omega woman. They'd been discussing the dimensions of the new library … Until she casually name-dropped the downfall of the previous Sages, and just like that, Kaveh had been reminded of Alhaitham. Typical.

"My apologies," Kaveh replied, earnest. Then, with far less sincerity, he veiled the real reason for his distraction. "I was just wondering, and you don't have to answer if it's too personal, but the renovation plans have grown far more elaborate since we last spoke. Is there a reason for the change?"

The woman's smile widened. "Now that the budget allows for it, I thought why not?" She tapped the blueprint thoughtfully. "The Acting Grand Sage's new program has been incredibly helpful."

This was the first time Kaveh had heard Alhaitham receive sincere praise for something beyond his academic accomplishments or his (debatably) astute observations. Kaveh wasn't sure how to react. Her words rang a bell, if only in the back of his mind. Yes, Alhaitham had signed something about family planning recently. But Kaveh hadn't found the time to read the fine print. Was it truly that generous? Extending a house by two bedrooms and an entire playground was nothing to scoff at, budget-wise.

"Since the renovation will mostly benefit my kids, part of the costs are now covered by the Akademiya. I'm afraid you will have to sign paperwork to secure the funding, Mr. Kaveh," she said apologetically, though her attention shifted to the baby in her arms. The baby stirred, a fleeting sign of warning. Before Kaveh could blink, a high-pitched scream rang out, alerting both omegas.

"There, there… But you've just eaten my dear."

Somehow, Kaveh should have expected this. The café sat on a bustling corner of Sumeru City, famous for its mint beverages and pastries. Even at this early hour, it was already well-frequented. If Kaveh were a sleeping infant, he too, would have been bothered by the noise. He wracked his brain for a solution, hoping to spare both the baby and his client any distress. Maybe a pacifier would help, or a fresh diaper ... or just a distraction.

Yet the woman remained calm, absently stroking her child's hair. How did she do it? It almost seemed as if she was waiting for the baby to explain herself.

He leaned forward, offering a gentle smile and his own soothing—albeit muted—omega scent. Raised an only child, Kaveh had little experience with infants. His movements were clumsy, his smile unpracticed, yet to his surprise, the child stilled when she spotted him. Her button nose wrinkled, sniffing the air like a tiny rabbit, but she didn't cry.

"Oh, Mr. Kaveh! She's already taken a liking to you. You're a natural."

"R-really?" His voice cracked as her chubby fist latched onto his finger, her grip strong for something so small.

The woman nodded.

"I'm sure she'll love your work just as much."

Archons, he hoped so. Designing for children was new territory, and the responsibility felt heavier than ever. Infants were fragile; his designs needed to reflect that. But beneath his nerves, a spark of excitement flickered. If he succeeded, he might create something magical; something that would light up this child's young imagination and fulfill a family's dreams. This strive for excellence, this desire to change lives, played no small part in why he became an architect in the first place.

Perhaps that was why, even two hours later, as Kaveh sketched at his desk, the conversation still echoed in his mind. He couldn't deny his curiosity—not just about the program's full scope, but also… Ah, this was embarrassing. Not that anyone could hear his thoughts. (Though if Alhaitham could, he'd never hear the end of it.)

The truth was, Kaveh had always wanted a family. In his younger days, the fantasy had been painfully conventional: a supportive alpha mate who treated him as an equal. Children ... maybe two, perhaps three, if finances allowed. Kaveh would pursue his career while still having a proper home to return to. All his struggles would finally amount to something real and precious.

But reality had since carved its corrections into that dream. He felt deluded for even entertaining the possibility. He'd never achieve this kind of stability... Not in his career, not in his finances, not even in his willingness to put himself out there and actually go on a date.

Besides, Kaveh had come to relish any semblance of independence he could get. No shared bed to negotiate, no pressure to maintain perfect appearances at home, no anxiety about fading appeal with age. Besides, would he even find someone to challenge him artistically and intellectually? His social circle and work already fulfilled him. Alhaitham's occasional presence included, he admitted with minor chagrin.

Kaveh could still picture himself with kids. The alpha standing by his side in these fantasies wasn't entirely faceless: the alpha was a man, when just a few years ago he had been picturing a female alpha. A man with sharp eyes and a sculpted torso—absurd, really. No one like that existed in Sumeru, unmated and interested in him beyond superficial attraction. Kaveh knew his own beauty, but that only went so far.

Easier, then, to imagine children without an alpha at all.

He crushed the paper in his fist … not in anger, but as an admission of defeat. It would be so easy to tear it to shreds and let the fragments carry away his ill-gotten hopes.

Disappointment? Frustration? How come these emotions were the only constant in his life? As a child, he'd imagined adulthood with all the glittering promise of a Fontainian play. But now? Now, all the good things felt out of reach.

Kaveh needed to rest. He knew this wasn't healthy. With a long exhale, he forced himself to stop. He couldn't erase his debts tonight, couldn't rewrite his past … He should try to be gentler with himself. It wasn't all hopeless…

Thanks to Alhaitham's support, his brain unhelpfully supplied.

Despite everything, Kaveh dreamed blissfully that night. In his dream, a toddler clung to his leg as he moved around the kitchen, tiny fists gripping his pants like a lifeline. Toys littered the floor—a wooden block, a toy castle coated in fresh paint and dabbed with tiny fingerprints, a plush fox with one ear chewed off—and a warm hand brushed his lower back as someone passed behind him, half-asleep, murmuring about the grocery list.

It certainly wasn't someone who read books like it was a competitive sport. Not someone who argued about rent while shirtless and sweating, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Someone … gentle. Kind. Someone who prioritized Kaveh's happiness above all. Not his morning coffee. Or his fitness routine. Or his—argh.

When Kaveh woke, the absence of that warmth should have ached. Should have left him feeling robbed. Instead, he sat up with a quiet gasp, fingers clutching the sheets. If anything, in that moment, he felt determined.

With heavy steps, he returned to the desk he had abandoned the night before. He unfolded the crumpled page, smoothing each crease with trembling fingers. If nothing else, if no one wanted to prioritize his happiness, he would have to attain it himself. There had to be a way.

That evening, by lamplight, he pored over the Financial Aid Program's documents. Line after line, the terms grew more outrageous. Free housing. Anonymous enrollment. State-funded daycare. A full year's leave? Applicability for single parents, no questions asked? Kaveh's thumbnail pierced the parchment.

"What the hell are you playing at, Alhaitham?"

This wasn't policy—it was a damn fantasy. Since when did the Akademiya concern itself with child rearing? Since when did the so-called Acting Grand Sage champion social welfare? This was something Kaveh himself would propose! There had to be strings attached. There were always strings with Alhaitham.

He scanned for loopholes in the fine print. Anonymous housing, yes—but located where? Kshahrewar-approved contractors only. Of course. The program might fund the walls, but the Akademiya would still control the blueprints. But no, in the next paragraph, the details were laid out exhaustively. It was astonishing to admit, but the program seemed to address all of Kaveh's concerns.

A bitter laugh escaped Kaveh. No wonder his client's renovation plans had ballooned overnight. With benefits like these, she wasn't just decorating a nursery; she was future-proofing well beyond that. He calculated the numbers in the margins. At these subsidy rates, his client could afford triple-layered soundproofing and imported cribs from Liyue. No wonder she'd upgraded from basic renovations to adding a few architectural indulgences.

Kaveh was happy for her. He would do the same if he could.

If he could.

Oh. The realization clawed at him, insistent like a small animal tearing into him with blunt claws and teeth. His thoughts began to traverse on a tangled web of should I and shouldn't I. His debt would be accounted for; his housing secured (and sure to be located far from Alhaitham's place); his independence guaranteed.

Nothing was stopping Kaveh from doing the same as his client. Theoretically speaking. According to his doctor, the equipment in his body was fully functional. He'd only need some… external contributions.

Archons. The thought alone made him reach for the wine cellar. Only to find it empty. Because of course.

If only his mother could see him now. He really was considering this, huh? Pregnant with a stranger's child … what a ludicrous footnote to his already disastrous life. Then again, when had anything gone according to plan? He was drowning in debt. His childhood home had slipped right through his fingers. He'd moved in with the most insufferable alpha in Sumeru. Now, he was dependent on someone who had wronged him in the past.

Was this really the most absurd twist yet?

… Apparently, the more he thought about it, yes. The answer was yes. This was crazy, even for him.

Modern medicine was a blessing. No mating required. In vitro meant he'd never have to know the donor's face, let alone their name. Though something prickled at the back of his mind—Would the child ask? Of course they would. Would he lie?—he failed to crush the thought before it could take root.

What would he even be called? Mom? Dad? While mom was more traditional and expected, male omegas in Sumeru chose whatever they pleased these days … not that Kaveh cared about convention in the first place.

But titles were the least of his worries.

What gnawed at him was the inevitable moment when his child would ask, wide-eyed and trusting: "Where's my dadda?"

Would he spin some gentle lie? Or—worse—would he crumble under that gaze and confess the truth? That "Mommy" (or "Daddy," or whatever wretched term he landed on) was a failure of an omega who couldn't even secure a mate? That he'd been so desperate for a family, he'd bought one in a vial like overpriced wine?

No. No, he'd lie. He'd lie gloriously.

A Knight of Favonius, perhaps. Some dashing crusader who'd swept him off his feet during a drunken revel, courtesy of a particularly reckless Windblume Festival. The story practically wrote itself: a moonlit confession outside a tavern, empty promises whispered between kisses, followed by a far from disagreeable night. Only for duty and sobriety to call his "lover" away in the morning. Alhaitham would barely blink at the tale (Mondstadters were always drowning in alcohol and poor decisions anyway). He'd chide Kaveh, waste his time trying to locate the birth father if only to sate his curiosity (or collect child support, since Kaveh would no longer pay rent), and soon forget about the story entirely. And the child? They'd swallow the fantasy whole, wide-eyed at the prospect of having a knight's blood in their veins.

Anything but the ugly truth.

Ah.

Even knowing what this meant, Kaveh still wanted to go through with it. For once, he wanted to be selfish—just this once. The thought curled uncomfortably in his chest, guilt gnawing at the edges, causing him physical ache. As if some part of him was still protesting, body and mind.

And still. He glanced at the empty shelf where a bottle of wine might have offered some solace. No such luck. If he wanted to drown his conscience, he'd have to visit Lambad's.

He sighed, shoulders sagging. How ... unfortunate.

Two hours later, he slumped across the center table in Lambad's, cards scattered on the floor. "Your move," Tighnari said, flicking his ears as the tavern's lanterns cast honeyed light over their game. Kaveh counted himself lucky that Tighnari happened to be in Sumeru City on forest ranger business. And of course, as if drawn by some unerring Tighnari-detecting sixth sense, Cyno had materialized at their table within the hour.

Though perhaps "lucky" wasn't the right word, given how Cyno was currently commandeering both the wine jug and the game with equal intensity. Usually Kaveh was the drunkard of the group, but today, Cyno seemed to seek his crown with a vengeance.

"That's your fourth glass," Tighnari observed, tail twitching. "You only drink like this when the Matra archives flood or—"

"Or when I've spent three hours listening to scholars debate whether Sumpter Beasts could be trained to solve algebraic equations," Cyno deadpanned, shuffling the deck with excessive force. "No wonder Alhaitham is running short on patience lately. He's surrounded by idiots."

What? Kaveh seized the distraction, deeming the opening as good as any. "Hypothetically," he blurted, swirling his drink. The word felt so loaded, it might as well have exploded in his mouth. "If someone wanted to ensure their sperm donor wasn't a complete idiot, what would you recommend? Genetic screening? Psychological evaluation? A political alignment quiz?"

Tighnari's ears flattened. It was as if lightning had struck within the tavern, each question reverberating like a subsequent strike. "Hypothetically?" he asked.

"Very."

Cyno dealt himself a fresh hand without looking up. "Challenge them to a Genius Invokation TCG duel. If they can't strategize a seven-turn victory, their genes aren't worth inheriting."

Neither paid this answer any mind. Tighnari probably hadn't even registered the response, let alone the corresponding question. Not fully, at least. "Kaveh," Tighnari said slowly, "you're not planning anything… rash, are you?"

Should Kaveh even try to hide it at this point? Drunk or not, these two could keep secrets better than the Akademiya's vaults. But he felt vulnerable sharing his plans; what if come morning, he would regret everything and realize he had been an idiot? It wouldn't be the first time.

He was still wrestling with the confession when movement caught his eye. Two tables over, a figure was frantically mopping up a spilled drink.

It took Kaveh an embarrassingly long amount of seconds to realize that the person seemed familiar.

Sethos? Here? At this hour? He had never stricken Kaveh as the clumsy sort. But here he was, trying to convince himself that his expensive robes were suitable table wipes.

Kaveh forced his attention back. "Yeah? So what if I am?" The bravado lasted exactly six syllables and twenty seconds of silence before crumbling into a whisper: "My biological clock's ticking, okay?"

No response. Not even laughter or a sneer.

"I'm not getting any younger…" he explained himself further, as if repeating it would help. "Or less single". The last part was almost inaudible.

From Sethos's table came a poorly muffled coughing fit. Had he—? No, surely not. The acoustics in Lambad's were terrible.

Tighnari blinked. Predictable reaction. Far more surprising was Cyno nodding along like Kaveh had proposed the most reasonable plan in the history of Teyvat—the same solemn nod he gave when delivering his most catastrophic jokes.

The gesture hit Kaveh like a warm gust of Port Ormos' evening breeze. Cyno was supportive? He might not be alone in this?

And then Cyno just had to ruin it. "Good one." He tapped his temple. "Must remember that. Shame Tighnari's already heard it."

Of course. Kaveh sighed, allowing his head to rest even heavier on the table.

"I'm being sincere. When have I ever lied to you while drunk?"

Cyno nodded along, uncomprehendingly. Perhaps only Tighnari's withering glare kept him from turning the whole exchange into his new favorite punchline… one he could savor for the rest of the night.

"Does Alhaitham know about your plans?" Tighnari asked.

Kaveh's answer was immediate. "Of course not."

Cyno leaned in, voice lowered. "How do you plan to keep it from him? Since you both… you know." To his credit, he never mentioned Kaveh and Alhaitham's living situation in public—not even while drunk.

Kaveh traced the rim of his glass, buying himself a moment. "I'll cross that bridge when it's too late for him to stop me. By the time he finds out, I'll already be packing my things. He won't be able to berate me. Or worse, waste his precious time trying to persuade me into giving up on the child."

Tighnari's tail stilled, his expression turning serious. "Kaveh, if you want my honest feedback, I think this is… unwise. At least find a co-parent. Ideally, someone you trust." He paused, letting the words settle. "But we'll support you, regardless of your choice."

Cyno nodded. "Couldn't have said it better. Besides, Collei would adore a little sibling to spoil." A rare smile flickered across his face. "Joke or not, I don't think it's such a terrible plan."

Kaveh's heart swelled, the scents of the rainforest vivid in his nose, the image of the desert sun burning warmly in his chest. For a moment, his thoughts blossomed with the most cherished memories of his life. This was it. A proof of true friendship. Kaveh had won in at least one regard.

"Nari! Cyno! I—" Emotion clogged his throat. He would've hugged them if not for the laws of physics and his current inability to locate his own elbows.

"One more thing," Tighnari said. "Alhaitham deserves to know. Promise you'll tell him. Not today, not tomorrow, but… soon."

All warmth drained from Kaveh's body. The one concession he couldn't make.

"I get it," he said, staring into his drink. He knew he sounded far from sincere. "And I'm grateful—really—for everything he's done for me in recent years. In theory. Sort of. Maybe a little. But we both know the lecture he would give. He'd pick apart my parenting skills before I'd even chosen a crib." His fingers tightened around the glass. "That's the one criticism I intend to live without."

Because Alhaitham would be right. He had the power to make Kaveh reconsider. As much as it hurt to admit, no one knew Kaveh's flaws better than him. Even back in their Akademiya days…

Argh. If only their time together had changed them—made Alhaitham care more, made Kaveh care less. If only they had met somewhere in the middle … Maybe Kaveh would have risked that conversation. But the truth was, after all these years, neither of them had changed. That should have been a bad thing. Kaveh just wasn't entirely sure it was.

On the one hand, it meant another relationship-shattering argument was just around the corner. But it also meant Kaveh could always storm back into Alhaitham's life, just like that. That night years ago, when a drunk and desperate Kaveh had poured his heart out at this very tavern, Alhaitham had taken him back without questions.

As if he were a toddler, incapable of grasping that someone else—that Kaveh—might know more than he did. Know more about why they ultimately drifted apart. As if their falling out had been some inexplicable weather pattern rather than the direct consequence of Alhaitham being… well, Alhaitham.

A blessing, really. Kaveh could slip back into old habits without guilt or second-guessing; all while keeping his resentment for Alhaitham intact.

And in a weird way, Alhaitham acted as if he cared that Kaveh couldn't stand him. Kaveh's resentment mattered to him, clearly, treating it like some precious thing worth preserving. He treated it better than he had ever treated Kaveh's affection for him—back when that still existed in his teenage naivety.

"Kaveh," Tighnari sighed, flicking his ears for emphasis. "I know you won't believe me, but this will devastate Alhaitham. He at least deserves to know."

Kaveh's jaw fell open. Had Tighnari suddenly started speaking a foreign language? Or worse, had Cyno's humor finally rotted his brain?

Alhaitham? Devastated? The man wouldn't blink even if someone burned his precious House of Daena to ashes. He'd probably just calculate the reconstruction costs mid-inferno. Something absurd like that.

Nothing could make that man falter or make him stop dead in his tracks, not the previous Sages, not alcohol, certainly not Kaveh, not the Archons…. not even the matters Alhaitham claimed to care deeply about.

Maybe loud noises. Yeah, Alhaitham's only weakness.

"You're hoping this is your way out, aren't you?" Tighnari pressed. "That with a child, you'll finally afford to leave?"

Kaveh nodded stiffly. There were layers to it, of course—but Tighnari knew him well enough to read between the lines.

"I don't want to interfere in your relationship ," Tighnari continued, "but do you honestly think he wants you gone?"

Kaveh's lip curled. What was this about? Alhaitham's precious rent money? His free, Kaveh-shaped, live-in maid service?

Cyno exhaled sharply. "Nari, I think we should tell him."

"Tell me what?" Kaveh's voice came out strangely hollow. The alcohol haze had lifted, leaving a terrible crystal clarity.

Tighnari's ear twitched as he shot Cyno a look; the kind usually reserved for idiots who poked fungi to see if they were poisonous. "He'd only get furious," he said carefully, each word measured like doses of medicine.

"Why?" Cyno blinked, either too drunk or too stubborn to take the hint. "Wouldn't it make him happy?"

Tighnari's tail lashed once. "Not now. Even if he believed us, he'd confront Alhaitham immediately. They'd get into a nasty argument, and then…" A pointed pause. "We'd face the fallout."

Kaveh's nails bit into his palms. How dare they discuss him like some unstable chemical compound?

"You have dirt on Alhaitham?" he demanded. "Something that would enrage me?"

"It's nothing bad," Tighnari said quickly. "Cyno thinks it'd please you. While I think you're not ready to hear it." His ears twitched. "But it's not our secret to tell. Ask him yourself."

Like hell, Kaveh would seek a conversation with Alhaitham for the foreseeable future. Not when he knew he was terrible at keeping secrets, even his own. He'd likely have a slip of his tongue and sooner than later Alhaitham would know about his plans. No way the story about the Windblume Festival would hold any credibility after this.

"Maybe not," Tighnari conceded after reading his face. "You're both hopeless, and Archons, it's painful to watch."

"Why are you so quiet today?"

Scaramouche didn't look up from the book he was pretending to read as he asked a rare question. He'd noticed it the moment Sethos had slunk into the room: the absence of noise, the lack of relentless questions. Usually, Sethos would be interrogating him about his latest research, or pestering him for Akademiya gossip, or just talking at him until Scaramouche's patience wore thin. Today, though, the silence was almost ... suspicious.

Sethos was sprawled across the opposite divan, arms folded, gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. He looked, for once, genuinely troubled.

"It's nothing," Sethos muttered. Then, after a moment's hesitation, "Actually, no. It's something. I overheard something in the tavern yesterday. I think that architect dude—Kaveh, right?—is coaxing Cyno into getting him pregnant."

Scaramouche's book slipped a fraction lower, revealing a single, incredulous eye.

Sethos pressed on, oblivious to the growing horror on Scaramouche's face. "I mean, I always thought he had chemistry with that scribe. You know, the one who looks like he could lift a whole library? But apparently not! My entire worldview is in shambles."

There was a long, heavy pause. Scaramouche stared at Sethos, searching for any sign that this was a joke, a test, some elaborate new way to get under his skin. But Sethos looked genuinely distraught, as if he'd just witnessed the collapse of a cherished childhood belief.

"What?" Scaramouche finally managed, his voice flat.

Sethos sat up, gesticulating wildly. "No, really! I heard them. The architect was talking about his biological clock and genetic screening and co-parenting. Cyno was right there, nodding along like it was all perfectly normal. I mean, I know Sumeru's progressive, but this is next-level, right?"

Scaramouche closed his book with a snap. "You are, without a doubt, the worst eavesdropper I've ever met. Which is impressive, given how good you are at spreading rumors."

The pseudocompliment slipped out before Scaramouche could stop himself. But it was true. Sethos usually was a rather rational man, his senses keen enough not to fall prey to baseless rumors, but rather make them circulate himself.

Scaramouche's artificial nose wasn't the best at distinguishing nuances in pheromones, but that was far from necessary when around Alhaitham and Kaveh. He had never encountered either scent in its pure, distilled form; each was always tinged with traces of the other, disgustingly intertwined, even if they had been apart for weeks.

Gross.

"Wait—don't tell me you're inexperienced when it comes to relationships. Or is your olfactory system damaged? Is that why you can't pick up on alpha/omega business?" He sneered. "Not that I'd be surprised about either being the case."

Sethos looked wounded. "I'm just saying, it's a lot to process! Call me crazy, call it far-fetched, but I was so sure the architect was into the scribe, but now-"

"Stop." Scaramouche pinched the bridge of his nose, as if physically restraining the oncoming headache. "Just… for the love of the Archons, stop. Next you'll tell me Tighnari's the surrogate."

Sethos's eyes widened. "Wait, is he? He abstained from drinking that night... oh my ..."

Scaramouche groaned, sinking back into the divan. "Just take my book already. Your brain cells need the exercise more than mine do."

Chapter Text

The house was unusually quiet when Alhaitham woke, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the window. It was the beginning of the week, and he supposed he should be grateful he hadn't been woken by drunkards outside—or inside—the house, a certain architect coming to mind.

He checked the hallway as he left his room, half-expecting to trip over a battalion of empty wine bottles. To his relief, the hallway was empty.

He made breakfast at a pace that would have bored even the most dedicated scholar. Kaveh's complaints about his grandmother's coffee grinder buzzed in his head like a swarm of cicins, so he settled for pre-ground beans. A sacrifice perhaps too generous for the altar of domestic peace, he noted with a sigh.

It was then he noticed something from the corner of his eye: Kaveh's sketchbook was missing from its usual place on the table. Odd. He rarely took it out of the house. Didn't he usually prefer working at home, where he could critique the furniture at length? On a good day, the weather was at fault for his creative block; on a bad one, it was clearly Alhaitham's scent—or rather, his refusal to mask it—that ruined everything. Naturally.

Dismissing the more unpleasant memories, Alhaitham poured two cups—maybe out of compulsion, or perhaps just muscle memory. He set one at Kaveh's seat, then reconsidered. The coffee would go cold, but Kaveh would complain about that, too. Alhaitham almost looked forward to it: the real highlight wasn't the coffee, but the daily debate over whose fault it was that it was cold in the first place.

At the thought, Alhaitham felt something akin to anticipation .... How rare. He even found himself listening for the familiar creak of Kaveh's door, a shy but cherished sound that signaled the start of their unspoken ritual. When it didn't come, he glanced at the clock. Kaveh was late. Not for work, this time—he'd mentioned nothing about an early meeting. He was late for barging into their kitchen, making a show of ignoring him, all while Alhaitham pretended not to notice. A practiced silence, so to speak: one that Alhaitham sometimes desired to break.

Emphasis on the sometimes, because he had always believed in the value of patience. Progress, in research or in life, was rarely linear. It required persistence, and most of all, the willingness to let things unfold at their own pace.

This philosophy had served him well as a scholar, less so as Acting Grand Sage (but that was Lesser Lord Kusanali's headache, not his), and he saw no reason to abandon it now, whether at home or in courtship. Kaveh would understand, in his own time.

He picked up his own mug, sipped, tried to ignore the subpar taste, then immersed himself in the research paper he'd left open the night before. He knew his duties as Acting Grand Sage would soon force him to abandon the paper a second time: naturally, he had to hurry. And yet, the words blurred. He found himself listening for the sound of Kaveh's footsteps, the clatter of a dropped pen, the inevitable sighs Alhaitham could almost envision with their own distinct rhythm.

Nothing.

Alhaitham couldn't shake the feeling that he had miscalculated somewhere.

Without so much as a pause to mourn the abrupt end of his morning routine, Alhaitham rose ... too quickly, as it turned out. The kitchen table jolted against his hip, and he braced himself for the screech of shattering tableware. But the sound he dreaded, the one that would have crowned this as the most bothersome kind of morning, never came. Only a familiar ringing lingered in his ears.

How was it that even his own home managed to be such a noise hazard?

As if on cue, Kaveh's door swung open with an emphatic thud: a sound with which he seemed to declare, "It's because of me!"

And then, just like clockwork, he shuffled into the kitchen, as he did every other morning.

"M'ning," he slurred.

Yet something was off. It wasn't the heavy shadows pooling beneath Kaveh's perfectly symmetrical eyes, nor the obvious hangover he was suffering from.

The scent hit Alhaitham like the snapback of a bowstring he never intended to release. Warm, sharp, unmistakably Kaveh. For a heartbeat, his composure slipped, and his thoughts felt … flimsy, less carefully constructed. Arranging sentences in proper grammar and order suddenly took an honest effort.

Had Kaveh forgotten to wear his scent blockers?

"What's that smell?" Alhaitham asked, more to himself than to Kaveh. He'd never admit aloud that this scent was titillating; almost intoxicating. When it came to Kaveh, honesty had a way of complicating everything … especially since, by all appearances, they weren't alpha and omega. Not yet, at least.

With a dramatic sigh, Kaveh rummaged through the fridge, not sparing Alhaitham a glance. "Accidents happen. Maybe next time, run a risk assessment before letting an omega move in. You're the expert, after all." Kaveh spat the words "expert" and "risk assessment" as if he wasn't speaking to a man who had recently overthrown the government. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I just apologize for my biology. Should I grovel now, or do you want it in writing?"

Alhaitham's gaze lingered despite himself. With his hair pinned up, Kaveh's bare neck was on display—a tempting sight that made Alhaitham's canines throb with a sick, ancient kind of anticipation. He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth, willing the feeling away.

Unlike most unmated omegas, Kaveh rarely bothered with collars. Before Alhaitham presented, he'd thought nothing of it … he was certain he'd have done the same had he presented as an omega instead of an alpha. Collars sounded like a hassle, even more so than scent blockers did. But now? He'd never say it to Kaveh's face, but watching him leave the house day after day, collarless and vulnerable, whether for a mission, a meeting, or just a trip to the bazaar … it didn't sit well with him.

"Oh, sure, it's fine when you and your alpha friends skip scent blockers and flood entire buildings with your musk. But the one time I forget mine—just once!—and you act like I've committed some unspeakable crime."

Alhaitham blinked. The last time Kaveh had been this irritable was the morning after his latest heat, dulled as it was by his suppressants.

Well ... Kaveh would likely need more than just coffee to ease his sour mood. Maybe Alhaitham should offer him a freshly brewed cup, after all.

Instead, he asked, "Do I really need to remind you?" If he made such an offer now, Kaveh might take it as a silencing attempt, an outright dismissal of his frustrations with their biological reality. "I can't believe you have to hear this from me. After all, many would say you embody this nation's ideals better than I ever could."

He emphasized his next words: "If you want to stop taking them, then stop. It's your choice." Of everyone in this city, I'd be the last to mind, he left unsaid.

Kaveh rolled his eyes, and Alhaitham, to his awe and exasperation, found himself distracted by how unfairly good he looked doing it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I apologize for making the choice of invading your esteemed nose with my repugnant smell, honorable Grand Sage. I'll re-apply my blockers now."

Kaveh didn't so much as sit down with him. He didn't spare Alhaitham (or the coffee meant to grow cold for him) another glance.

Alhaitham watched him leave, just like that. He had the sense that pressing further would only yield more questions than answers.

He shook his head, a flicker of misplaced nostalgia warming his chest. Kaveh's occasional outbursts were, in their own right, the most predictable thing about him.

After a two-hour meeting that felt like a bewildering blend of hostage negotiation and a Fontainian tea party, Alhaitham longed for nothing more than to return to the research paper he had left unfinished that morning. Now, it felt impossibly distant … as if he'd have to organize an expedition into the desert just to find a place quiet enough to read it in peace.

He had refused to relocate into Azar's former office. This arrangement was supposed to be a temporary state of affairs, anyway—why move out of his perfectly functional office?

His perfectly functional office that used to be quieter than the House of Daena on most days. Nowadays, though, interruptions had become incessant. Alhaitham rolled his eyes when he heard the telltale knock at the door: three deliberate raps, a two-second pause, then two more, this time just a touch impatient.

A secret code. Something urgent had come up, and the Matra were already involved. How unfortunate. No excuse he could make would be effective under these circumstances. Yet, Alhaitham didn't even look up from his paperwork.

"Come in."

Cyno entered. He wasn't carrying his staff today—a rare sight indeed, as far as Alhaitham was concerned. His expression was as unreadable as ever. He closed the door behind him, sparing a glance at the ever-growing stack of reports on Alhaitham's desk.

"Busy?" Cyno asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Always." Alhaitham set his pen aside. "What brings the General Mahamatra this early in the morning?"

Cyno produced a slim folder and slid it across the desk. "It's afternoon, Alhaitham," he deadpanned, evidently finding the observation hilarious. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "There was a minor incident at the House of Daena. The Lexicon of Forgotten Tongues was accessed last night using a forged faculty signature. Yours, to be specific."

Alhaitham's head jerked up so quickly, the papers on his desk rustled in protest.

"The text was returned, but the security enchantments were tampered with. The Matra are treating this as a Fourth Sin violation."

The Fourth Cardinal Sin, huh? Investigating the origin of words. As a Haravatat scholar, he himself had probably skirted the edge of breaking this rule more times than he could count.

"Minor incident?" Alhaitham pressed. This sounded like anything but, at least according to the Akademiya rulebook.

"Minor, because the book in question is hardly comprehensible or scientifically sound. It's long been suspected that most of the origins recorded there are nothing but fabrications. The perpetrator is likely an overzealous Haravatat scholar trying to prove a point."

Alhaitham still wasn't keen on any of this. Not because he was worried for Sumeru's safety—that truly seemed a little far-fetched over a book he himself knew to be nothing but an elaborate joke. But what if the fallout of this incident left him stuck with overtime? … Again?

He gritted his teeth as he opened the folder Cyno had given him, scanning the incident report and the attached list of titles and borrowers. "Why would we find the culprit here? These are the House of Daena audit logs, aren't they?"

Cyno's nod was almost imperceptible, just the slightest dip of his chin. "Check the report," he said, voice steady. "Whoever is behind this knows the House of Daena inside and out, bureaucracy included. They have to be somewhere on this list. Scan for any potential irregularities or names that grab your attention."

Alhaitham snorted. "Indeed, this approach might work. Or we could stumble over a clerical error. Which would cause a whole other headache."

He set the file down on the table. "Regardless… can you tell me—now, mind you—why I should be doing your job?"

Cyno's fingers twitched at his side, his well-honed composure slipping for a fraction of a second. Before Alhaitham could raise as much as an eyebrow, Cyno straightened again, his voice clearer than when he entered.

"It's simple," he said, the words snapping like a lock clicking shut. "I don't have permission to look at these files. No warrant, no access to un-anonymized records."

Huh? This wasn't Cyno's style. Alhaitham shrugged, making sure to use the bare minimum of effort—just enough to demonstrate how utterly unperturbed he was.

"If it's just a warrant problem, I have a solution for you: submit a request and wait a day or two. Sounds simple, doesn't it?"

Cyno shook his head before Alhaitham finished. "It's not that easy, this time. The Matra's request for a warrant was denied by the Akademiya's Ethics Committee. They're worried about a privacy scandal. Too many high-profile researchers have recently accessed restricted texts. If word gets out that we're unmasking everyone's reading habits, it'll be a political nightmare."

He paused, then added, "But the Acting Grand Sage has the authority to review un-anonymized records at his discretion, especially in cases involving the Cardinal Sins. If you do it, it's an internal audit, not a Matra investigation. No paperwork, no headlines, and no angry scholars. Just you, me, and the truth."

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Alhaitham, in that moment, had zero interest in sharing anything with Cyno—least of all space. Yet he had to make concessions with him. The Matra's—or perhaps Cyno's—trap had snapped perfectly into place, leaving him no room to evade.

Alhaitham stared at the folder in his hands, his jaw set. "I really have to do this, huh?" he muttered, not even to himself—maybe to the gods, those he only acknowledged out of practicality (and, well, since he'd met one himself).

"Yep," Cyno replied, crossing his arms. "Unless you want to hinder the investigation into the rumors about Kaveh."

Alhaitham's shoulders stiffened. Cyno might as well have announced that Lesser Lord Kusanali had abdicated the throne. Rumors? About Kaveh?

His unspoken questions must have shown on his face, because Cyno shifted his weight, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else.

"It's nothing bad," Cyno tried to assure him. "Well, not really. Kaveh's off his suppressants, and his scent's causing a stir. Some of the gossip—and those accursed bulletin board messages—I can't accept as his friend."

Alhaitham's fingers tightened around the folder. "Bulletin board messages?" he echoed, his voice flat, a cold dread settling in his gut. Alhaitham had almost forgotten this feeling, and he sure hadn't missed it.

Cyno sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You know how people are. Someone decided it would be funny to leave anonymous notes in the House of Daena. 'Is the Light of Kshahrewar looking for a mate?' That kind of thing. Some were … less polite. Kaveh's ignoring it, but …" He trailed off, glancing toward the door as if expecting Kaveh to appear at any moment.

Alhaitham's jaw tensed. "And the Matra are investigating this?"

"Not officially," Cyno admitted. "If only I could. The best I can do is have a few people keep an eye out. It's not a crime—I've already checked—but it's uncomfortable. Especially for Kaveh. I'm trying to find the culprits on my own."

Alhaitham's grip on the report tightened until his knuckles turned white. For a rare moment, he was speechless—perhaps even thoughtless—until the words tumbled from his mouth before they had fully formed in his mind.

"For the record," he said, voice low and edged with steel, "you're just standing here, expecting me to do your job while students—maybe even faculty—drag our reputation through the mud?" Alhaitham took a deep breath in a futile attempt to remain as aloof as ever. "Are you hearing yourself? This isn't about a minor incident. It's about basic decency, our standing as scholars. You're the General Mahamatra. You should know better."

Alhaitham usually didn't care about "honor," outward appearances, or inventing arbitrary rules for social conduct and expecting everyone to follow them. Scratch that, he still didn't care and never would. He knew exactly why he was angry, and it had nothing to do with what he just said. Judging by Cyno's unimpressed stare, Cyno knew, too.

Alhaitham stood abruptly, chair scraping harshly against the floor. "Forget this petty investigation. I'll scan the files if that's what it takes. Go do what actually matters. Now."

Cyno's eyes gleamed. "Does this mean I have an express decree from the Grand Sage to investigate this?" His tone was measured, but the thrill of having permission to actually arrest people was impossible to hide. Perhaps this had been Cyno's plan all along, the quickest way to jumpstart a Matra inquiry into matters usually outside their jurisdiction.

Alhaitham's eyes flashed. Not like it mattered. "I don't care if I have to invent laws on the spot or beg Lesser Lord Kusanali for help. This kind of conduct is unacceptable. If our own people can't see that, maybe they don't belong in the Akademiya at all."

Long after Cyno had left, Alhaitham remained just as furious. The bulletin board had been his only means of courtship for years ... ever since their falling out. Far from ideal, perhaps, but for Alhaitham, it was everything: a place to engage Kaveh in fierce, sometimes harsh debates, albeit anonymously. Year after year, it had been his sole vessel for communicating with his favorite senior. There had been no one home to greet him, no one waiting for him in front of his office, there had only been this bulletin board.

To see a reply from Kaveh, sometimes tinged with the scent of his anger or irritation, had always kindled a rare flicker of excitement. Alhaitham wasn't sure he would have survived his most grueling days right before graduation and beyond, if it weren't for that stubborn glimmer of hope.

But now, some so-called alphas—so lowly, it was almost a joke to call them that—had sullied that place and likely Kaveh's regard for it. Worse, they'd caused Kaveh immense discomfort. The thought alone made Alhaitham's blood boil.

No wonder Kaveh had been so irritable, so quick to assume the worst, when Alhaitham pointed out his scent. For a moment, Alhaitham must have looked just like everyone else.

Huh.

This line of thought, for reasons Alhaitham couldn't quite pinpoint, felt dangerous. He'd read countless restricted texts in his lifetime, yet few possibilities had ever made him ponder quite like this.

Alhaitham … to Kaveh … even if only for a fleeting moment, on a meaningless morning … had seemed like just another alpha?

No, it couldn't be that simple. There had to be more to it. Progress was slow, but it was linear. Alhaitham had proven himself, at least enough to be more than that, always. Surely, even in Kaveh's eyes … Kaveh might not be infatuated, not yet, but there had to be something there. Otherwise, his behavior truly, unequivocally, wouldn't make any sense.

A lump formed in his throat as he continued scanning the file. The concern of overtime had long been abandoned.

His concentration, despite everything, was as sharp and impeccable as ever. To an outsider, nothing had changed. He was Alhaitham: former Scribe, now Acting Grand Sage, scanning the audit logs with unerring efficiency. No lingering thoughts, no wasted eye movements. His work was neither rushed nor sloppy; he didn't waste so much as a second, or the quiver of a muscle.

Even when he stumbled upon a name—a name he would have recognized in any of the twenty-one languages he spoke—his composure held. At first.

It was the only word he couldn't just say, but breathe. A name that had carved out space in his mind, always present, as if it were tangible. Not like a tumor, but … like a faint, second pulse, nestled deep within his brain.

Kaveh.

Cyno knocked again, four hours later. He was informed that the Acting Grand Sage had stormed out of his office just two hours prior, looking unwell. Alhaitham had requested sick leave for the rest of the week, which had been promptly granted. The logs lay abandoned on his desk.

Cyno only noticed them by accident. The titles of the books—and the associated name—caught his attention immediately.

From Seed to Sprout: Prenatal Meditation for Omegas

The Physiology of Omega Pregnancy

Herbal Remedies for Expectant Omegas

Aranara Lullabies: Songs and Stories for Unborn Children

"Fuck," he whispered, and for once, the word wasn't the punchline of some joke.

Chapter Text

Three days.

Three days since Alhaitham had locked himself in his room. Three days of silence, of untouched coffee left to congeal on the counter, of refused meals stacked outside his door like offerings to an uninterested deity. No arguments about furniture aesthetics, no passive-aggressive notes about rent payments, not even a single abandoned research text left splayed on the table. Kaveh had tried everything … meals, medicines, even (in a moment of desperation) offering to petition Lesser Lord Kusanali to analyze the problem through Alhaitham's dreams. Nothing had earned him so much as a grunt of acknowledgment.

At first, he'd assumed it was anger. Perhaps Alhaitham had finally seen the bulletin board messages. He had witnessed it himself, hadn't he? Kaveh had stopped using scent blockers. Sort of. (Not that Kaveh was trying to attract alphas, contrary to popular belief … He only refused to compromise his fertility when his window for conception was already narrow enough. Not that he could explain this to Alhaitham. Not that Alhaitham would care.)

Maybe—Archons have mercy—Alhaitham had found Kaveh's notes on potential donors, tucked between blueprints in his sketchbook. Maybe he was already working out the most exasperating way to address the topic.

But none of that happened. By the second day, Alhaitham's scent began to shift.

"Hello?"

Kaveh rapped on Alhaitham's door for the third time that day, knuckles stinging. The scent leaking from the room had grown stronger … cloying and off, like fruit forgotten, left to rot in a sealed jar. It was nothing like Alhaitham's usual sharp, green tobacco, a scent that always settled low in Kaveh's gut like an invitation.

Archons, what was he thinking? Maybe it was just frustration. Or maybe it was because Alhaitham was a virile alpha, and the animal part of Kaveh wasn't exactly picky.

But this scent? This was wrong. If not for the familiar cadence of Alhaitham's voice—muffled, barely audible as it was—Kaveh might have believed another alpha had locked himself behind the other end of the door.

He pressed his palm to the door, perhaps with the force of trying to bend it. Yet when he spoke, his voice softened, as if to soothe a frightened child. "I'm really starting to get worried, Alhaitham."

A garbled reply filtered through the wood. Kaveh caught only word fragments: "rut … distance … fine …" Not reassuring. Not reassuring at all.

He sighed, frustration and worry warring in his chest. What a confusing mix of feelings to have towards Alhaitham.

"I'm calling a specialist, all right? This is starting to scare me, if I'm being honest. Just … hang in there."

It was the only thing left to do. Maybe a science experiment had gone wrong. Maybe the stress of his new position had finally caught up with Alhaitham.

Kaveh exhaled, resigned. There was no use hesitating … he had to help, no matter what. And he needed to act now.

Since Alhaitham, as Acting Grand Sage, was now considered a big shot, Kaveh figured he should at least have access to the best care … free of charge, naturally. The Akademiya would surely be generous in compensating whichever doctor he hired. Still, Kaveh would have to be careful not to let slip that he and Alhaitham were sharing living quarters to begin with.

Uh. How exactly should he go about this?

He was about to make himself a bowl of soup—something normal, something grounding—when the doorbell chimed. Komaniya Express? He'd ordered brushes from Inazuma, but even their couriers weren't that fast. Maybe that Nekomata girl—

He set the mug down, wiped his palms on his trousers, and opened the door. His heart gave a little jolt.

Cyno and Tighnari stood on the threshold. Cyno looked ready to barge in, impatience radiating off him in faint, purple sparks of elemental energy. By contrast, Tighnari lingered behind, his expression making it clear he'd rather be anywhere but here.

Kaveh greeted them with a smile that wasn't entirely forced. If it helped mask his anxiety, he'd count that as a bonus. "You two? What brings you here?"

Within minutes, they settled in the kitchen, with Kaveh brewing coffee, partly out of habit, partly out of hospitality. The silence stretched, broken only by the whir of Alhaitham's coffee grinder. Somehow, no matter how many times Kaveh tried, and no matter how faithfully he memorized the mechanisms, the coffee always tasted better when Alhaitham made it.

Tighnari spoke first. "We're worried. About you … and Alhaitham."

Cyno leaned forward, eyeing Alhaitham's latest acquisition: a lopsided, garishly painted paperweight of what might have been a lion. Might have been, because not even a child's imagination would recognize it as such. Alhaitham had picked it up at the bazaar.

"You didn't have a fight, did you? A particularly nasty one?"

Kaveh tensed, fingers tightening around his mug. "Why would we?" The real question, of course, was why wouldn't we? But he let it hang.

Something shifted. Cyno relaxed his posture, and a rare grin spread across his face, as if he had already shelved the ugly sight of the paperweight deep in his memory.

"So you talked it out? Amicably? That's a first."

The excitement on Cyno's face didn't fade, even as Kaveh shot him a look of utter bewilderment. Across the table, Tighnari's ears drooped in resignation … he could already guess what Kaveh was about to ask.

"Talked out what, exactly?"

Cyno's grin faltered in an instant.

For an agonizing minute, the only sound was the distant ticking of the clock. Kaveh began to think he'd have preferred spending the day on his skincare routine—or sketching for his next project. He loved his dearest friends, he really did, but today … maybe it was the weather, maybe just the abruptness of their visit, but something felt off.

Finally, Tighnari spoke, "Ignore Cyno, he's just worried in his own way. We both are. You haven't answered any of our letters, and Alhaitham is still on sick leave. That's … unusual, even for him."

Kaveh managed a weak laugh. "He's just—" He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. How much could he say? How much should he say? "He's not well. I think it's his rut, but … it's different this time. I don't know how to help."

Tighnari's brows drew together in concern, his expression thoughtful. Cyno, on the other hand … if Kaveh didn't know better, he'd think Cyno looked almost bored. It was the same look he wore as a spectator, watching the final matches of a TCG tournament he'd already lost.

"There's a doctor in Liyue, known to be the best in his craft—and discreet, too—" Tighnari began, but Cyno interrupted, deadpan:

"Tighnari and I have recently been to Natlan. We met this guy, and…"

Tighnari blinked, momentarily thrown. "Cyno, he's a veterinarian."

Cyno shrugged, completely unfazed. "So? He has a cool hat."

Tighnari pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not the time for jokes."

"I'm not joking, Nari. What difference does it make? As if any doctor can help Alhaitham. Or Kaveh for that matter. You know what the real issue here is, don't you?"

Tighnari sighed but didn't argue further. Kaveh, meanwhile, stared into his coffee, watching the liquid swirl in his cup. It looked … normal. As if trying to prove that today should have been just like any other, and tomorrow would blur seamlessly into it. As if Kaveh's life mirrored the dullness of Alhaitham's favorite coffee.

He felt the urge to pour it down the sink.

Instead, he set the cup down, exhaling through his nose. "No more riddles, please. Just get out with it, the whole truth behind your visit."

"Fair enough," Tighnari said. Then, he sighed in exasperation as if breaching the topic aged him considerably. "You're still looking for a donor, aren't you?"

Kaveh's cheeks burned. Ugh, hearing it from Tighnari made him feel pathetic. He'd tried—truly—but every alpha he'd approached had wanted "natural" conception, or just hadn't felt right. Maybe he was too picky, but wasn't that allowed, for something this important?

Tighnari continued, gentle but firm. "Well, Cyno and I made a bet you'd ask Alhaitham."

Kaveh choked on air. Tighnari's words echoed in his ears, growing louder with each repetition until they drowned out everything else. The shock nearly made him miss the aghast look on Cyno's face—and the sharp flick of Tighnari's tail as he tried to silence him.

"But Nari, that's not tru—"

"Why in the Archons would I ask Alhaitham?!" Kaveh burst out, his voice rising above their frantic whispering. "Do I really seem that desperate to you?"

"Keep your voice down, Kaveh! Alhaitham might hear!" Tighnari hissed.

"I don't care! It's not like he's in any state to understand what we're saying—if you can even call this a conversation. Anyway—"

Kaveh's protest died on his lips as a faint creak sounded from down the hall. The door to Alhaitham's room—which had been sealed shut for three days straight, almost stubbornly so—stood slightly ajar. The rancid-honey scent rolled out in waves that Kaveh couldn't see, only smell, but they still made his vision swim.

Tighnari's ears snapped upright. "Kaveh, is that—"

A floorboard groaned under sudden weight. Then another. Heavy, deliberate footsteps that didn't sound like Alhaitham at all—couldn't be Alhaitham, because Alhaitham moved like he couldn't stand the noise of even his own footsteps, not like some Rishboland Tigers stalking its pr—

The door exploded outward. The pungent scent of rut now hit them like a brick wall crashing down in their path.

There stood Alhaitham, guarding the entrance to his den like a soldier defending his castle. For a moment, no one moved. Kaveh wasn't afraid—he knew Alhaitham too well for that—but he'd never seen him like this: taller, more commanding, every line of his body taut with what Kaveh immediately recognized as need.

It also didn't help that Cyno was no longer the least-covered person in the room. Alhaitham was bare-chested, a towel knotted hastily at his waist (over his pants for what Kaveh guessed was extra modesty). It all did little to obscure the expanse of muscle, and failed even more spectacularly at hiding the unmistakable shape of alpha arousal. The sight sent a jolt through Kaveh, and as much as he despised the instinct, he pressed his knees together.

"You're not pregnant yet?" Alhaitham demanded, his voice rough, as if he had spent the entire night screaming it raw ... though Kaveh knew he hadn't.

Kaveh froze. "What?"

Alhaitham's gaze swept the room, his expression unreadable. "All this time I thought … So there's no other alpha?"

Kaveh stared, lost for words. "Wait, what—how did you—?"

"I'll do it," Alhaitham said simply.

Silence fell, heavy and absolute.

"Kaveh," he repeated, softer this time, "I'll do it."

Chapter Text

Kaveh thought he'd be numb by now. Years of loss, disappointment, and starting over should have dulled the edges. Logically, there was nothing left that could surprise him. And yet—

He'd felt this way when his father died. When he and Alhaitham stopped speaking. When he sold his childhood home. When he moved into Alhaitham's house. And now?

Now, he felt it again … when Alhaitham, with just a few words, seemed so eager to unravel whatever fragile thing they'd rebuilt.

Or did he? Had Alhaitham really ruined anything? Kaveh tried to take stock, but his emotions lagged behind the facts. Maybe in a minute, the arousal would fade, allowing the betrayal to catch up, and he'd be halfway out the door.

Instead, he just asked, "Why?" His voice sounded too calm, maybe because the anger hadn't settled yet.

Tighnari's ears were pressed flat, his posture tense. Cyno, on the other hand, had rekindled his interest in the paperweight.

Was this a joke? Some elaborate prank? Part of Kaveh almost wished it were … at least then, the world would still make sense. But as the thought settled, he realized he didn't want that after all.

Since when had defending the logical integrity of his surroundings ever been a priority? Had Kaveh ever tried to distinguish dreams from reality?

"Do you want the logical answer?" Alhaitham finally asked.

Kaveh almost laughed. "Don't fuck with me, Alhaitham. There is no logical answer."

As if Kaveh would tolerate a lecture on aligned schedules or genetical compatibility!

Alhaitham's voice was muted. "Last time, when you left, I thought I'd calculated for every variable. I hadn't. I didn't even realize what I'd lost until it was already gone. So—" He hesitated, voice rough.

He drew a shaky breath, finally meeting Kaveh's gaze. "I'll do whatever it takes, as long as it means that this time—if you have to leave—you at least leave slowly, I at least get to be part of the equation."

It made little sense. It didn't sound like Alhaitham, more like the junior Kaveh cast aside that day. Maybe the rut was to blame, or maybe Kaveh was missing something obvious.

He wanted to shout, demand clarity (on what?), but the look in Alhaitham's eyes stilled him. It was enough for Kaveh to forget what he wanted to say and lose the ability to voice it in the first place. The storm inside him quieted—an earthquake brought to a halt by nothing more than a flimsy rope.

"You two have to leave," Alhaitham said. It wasn't a request.

Tighnari and Cyno exchanged a glance, then slipped out without a word. Kaveh barely registered the sound of their footsteps.

But he lingered, his voice a mere whisper. "You should rest, too."

Archons, Alhaitham looked like he needed it.

"No. I can't. Kaveh, this isn't over yet."

"You still have things to say?" Kaveh asked. Of course, Alhaitham did.

Alhaitham hesitated, as if he'd forgotten how to speak. "Yes. It's a lot. And right now, I—"

Kaveh swallowed, the words tangling on his tongue. He almost laughed in Alhaitham's face, almost turned his back to vent his frustrations on Cyno and Tighnari instead, but the question pressed at his lips, as if propelled by an actual physical force. "Is this … Is this about—" He hesitated, searching Alhaitham's face for any sign of denial. "About us?"

No response. Not a twitch, not a blink … his expression stayed the same. No denial, either.

"Do you … like me?"

The words sounded foolish, too raw, spoken too soon, but he couldn't take them back no matter how ridiculous he felt.

"Is that what you can't say?"

Kaveh would have expected some dramatic music to accompany this moment. Maybe even a few happy tears. Honestly, he never imagined he'd be the one to steal someone's confession: their special, once-in-a-lifetime moment. From Alhaitham, at that. 

Or had he stolen it from himself instead?

Alhaitham exhaled, shoulders slumping in defeat. No tears welled in his eyes. "Yes," he said, a strange finality in his voice. "I like you. That's what this is."

Kaveh stared at him. "Why is that so hard to admit? Are you embarrassed? Are you in pain because of it?"

"No. Not really—"

"Then why act like a child? Then why tease me like some fledgling alpha who can't admit he has a crush?"

Alhaitham's gaze dropped. "I admired you, whether from afar or up close. Believe it or not, I was showing it, in my own way. No one else ever received this treatment from me."

Treatment? That was his idea of … treatment? Never a smile, never a courting gift … just constant provocation, always making sure he came out on top. And he even thought that was worth mentioning in a confession, as if he meant to compliment Kaveh?

Still, the moment Alhaitham used that word, Kaveh knew he'd revisit each of their moments together, no matter how fuzzy the memories became. He'd pore over every lingering glance, every accidental brush of shoulders, every ghost of a smile that Alhaitham dispelled before it could mean anything. Had Alhaitham's gesture at the Interdarshan Championship meant …? Maybe it had. Maybe Alhaitham had liked him for a long, long time.

"I get it. Checking me out is easy. But making me feel good about myself when I'm around you? That's hard."

Alhaitham didn't even gasp, didn't even protest. "That was never my intention, Kaveh, I—"

"I know. You have so many things to say, but you never say any of them. If I waited for you to finish, it'd be evening and I'd be no wiser."

He glanced up, searching the other's face for a hint of amusement. It still felt as if Alhaitham might burst into laughter at any moment.

"Sorry, but I have neither the time nor the talent to micro-analyze every little gesture … or to fill in the blanks between your lectures with whatever affection you think I'm supposed to pick up on."

Alhaitham's mouth twisted, like he was about to argue, then thought better of it. "Should I take this as rejection?"

The scent was unbearable, but the look on Alhaitham's face even more so.

Kaveh let out a shaky breath. "You should. But that doesn't mean that's what this is."

Kaveh looked away. He knew he could wound Alhaitham in a dozen different ways. It was one of those rare moments when victory was within reach. Temptingly so.

But saying "no" would be impossible. Not when Alhaitham was looking at him like the pleading, amenable junior he never had been.

It was as if Kaveh's emotions were rewinding, playing back in reverse. Where he expected to feel betrayal, there was arousal—a quiet backdrop feeding him imagery of accepting Alhaitham's offer, entering his den, and remaining until the stench of rut mellowed into its old, herbal … comfort. Yes, comfort.

Where there should have been anger—anger at Alhaitham's inaction, at his constant teasing, at his lack of accountability—there was euphoria, as if Kaveh needed only to rise on tiptoe to reach the top of a staircase ... a staircase he'd been climbing for years without realizing it.

For a moment, it felt impossible to want anything more.

Kaveh knew it was a lie, courtesy of hormones and his own omega instincts. He knew he deserved better. And yet…

He yearned to kiss Alhaitham. To make a big mistake. But that would mean letting Alhaitham win. Again.

Alhaitham had won the thesis argument. He'd won when he presented as an alpha and Kaveh as an omega. He'd won by achieving financial stability, while Kaveh barely had a single Mora to his name. He'd won when he became a sage, while Kaveh clung to his old title. He'd won by setting realistic goals, while Kaveh could only dream of bigger, loftier things.

And now, he was about to win again: getting exactly what he wanted, as always. Just like that.

"Oh, you piss me off so much," Kaveh muttered, pulling Alhaitham into his arms. He should have walked away instead. He should have made him suffer a little longer. But the scent of rut—coating Kaveh's tongue like raw egg, slick and suffocating, while in his nose it curdled into something clogging like dry wax—was clouding his judgment, and worse, the look in Alhaitham's eyes was the same one he'd worn years ago, when Kaveh had walked out on him the first time.

And damn, he couldn't do that again.

In that moment, Kaveh surrendered: to the statistics, to his hormones, to that part of himself that Alhaitham had always rendered defenseless.

His heart skipped a beat as he did, while Alhaitham was silent. They were moments away from their first kiss, surely, and though Alhaitham reeked of rut and heartbreak, Kaveh knew it would still feel right.

They stood like that for a while, anticipation mounting as Alhaitham remained stiff in Kaveh's hold. They hadn't hugged in years. His junior had grown so much over the years, and Kaveh rejoiced as he could finally admit how attractive that was.

Alhaitham's arms hung limply at his sides, as if debating whether they were even attached to his body. But then, his hands rose. The touch was tentative, almost clinical, as it settled on Kaveh's back.

Alhaitham's voice sounded rough and muffled. "Is that a yes? Or an uncalled for attempt to console me?"

Kaveh quashed the ludicrous question by pressing their lips together. When Alhaitham still hesitated, Kaveh dug his nails into his hair, pulling them closer until their bodies were flush.

Alhaitham finally sighed, and Kaveh could feel its tremor reverberate through his bones.

"Stupid alpha," Kaveh muttered against his lips. "We could've had this years ago."

Alhaitham blinked, struggling to process the information. He looked at Kaveh as if seeing him for the very first time … just as he had the day Kaveh first took the seat beside him in the House of Daena.

"Years ago? I thought …" he began, voice uncertain. "I thought I'd have to wait at least another year."

Kaveh sighed, too drained to muster any real anger. Though it would be justified—how dare Alhaitham admit he'd had a courtship timeline all along, yet never made a single move? And one year minimum? If Kaveh hadn't stolen his confession, 10 years would have been the conservative estimate!

"Should I call a doctor after all? The way you're talking, that might be for the best."

Alhaitham cocked an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I'm not following."

Was he that dense, or did he just want Kaveh to spell it out for him? Ugh. Probably the latter. Or a confusing mix of both.

"I'm generous enough to give you two options: I can prove your theory right and make you wait another year, or we can deal with your rut now—the traditional way."

Kaveh was just about to slip into his senior role and finally give Alhaitham the alpha/omega courtship lecture he so direly needed—only for Alhaitham to scoop him up in one fell swoop, as if he weighed nothing at all.

The nerve! Alhaitham carried him straight to his room—his den—somehow closing the door behind them with just his right foot.

"I know you're still in rut and probably had vivid fantasies about this moment, but I can walk just fi—"

Before Kaveh could finish speaking, Alhaitham captured his lips again. The kiss was effortless, despite the awkward angle, but it was clear Alhaitham was overestimating his own skills. Of course it was nice—because it was Alhaitham (Archons, it was Alhaitham kissing him)—but it wasn't the kind of kiss that stole Kaveh's breath or left his mind reeling. It was too monotone, too controlled.

Kaveh broke away, and Alhaitham let him.

"You—you have to move your lips more," Kaveh instructed, a little breathless. "Not so stiff, and not so much force, okay? My mouth isn't a shell you need to pry open."

Alhaitham blinked, uncertain. "What if I'm too rough?"

Kaveh hesitated. "Huh?"

"I'm not sure if I can control myself. I have no experience, and it's ... it's you. What if mating with me is painful?"

Alhaitham was a virgin? With a body like that? Kaveh was about to scoff and challenge the blatant lie, but then he recalled Alhaitham's personality. Well, that explained everything.

If Kaveh was honest, he'd been ready to throw logic out the window minutes ago. Who cared if they were rushing, leaving things unsaid? His underwear was already damp with slick, which mattered more to his animal brain than any wounded pride.

Alhaitham's rut scent was still laced with a sour undercurrent. It would pass, Kaveh knew, the moment he took what he needed from Kaveh's body—alphas were always like that.

And Kaveh? Was he still resentful?

He sighed. No, not anymore.

"We're both Vision users, Alhaitham," he said, his voice fond, softer than Alhaitham's lectures ever were. "I'm not in heat. I can fend you off if I need to. You know that, right?"

Alhaitham nodded. "Of course."

The bed was right there, and Kaveh was pliant in his arms. All Alhaitham had to do was lower him, and Kaveh would be right where he wanted him, ready for the taking.

But instead of loosening his grip, Alhaitham only held him tighter, pressing his nose to Kaveh's scent gland and breathing him in.

"Alhaitham," Kaveh warned, "I know what you're thinking. And don't you dare!"

Alhaitham stiffened as if Kaveh had kicked him. Kaveh immediately felt the change: the gentle pressure of Alhaitham's embrace turned unyielding, and a wave of displeased alpha scent washed over him.

"No biting before the wedding, okay?"

Alhaitham's expression went blank, like he was running calculations in his head and coming up short. Then he gasped, and Kaveh had to bite back a grin.

"I'm not going to raise a child with my roommate, Alhaitham. I hope you understand what you're getting into."

The usual Alhaitham would have pointed out that Kaveh had once planned to raise a child alone—an even messier prospect.

Instead, because this new Alhaitham had lost his mind probably a long time ago, he said, "You just proposed to me, senior."

Kaveh blinked. "What?"

"I can't thank you enough, and I can't accept it more readily. I'm really not suited to picking a ring and getting on one knee, so you're saving me a huge headache."

"Alhaitham!" Kaveh protested. "I insist you do this properly!"

Alhaitham finally dropped him onto the sheets. "Properly? Senior, I'm afraid we've already got the order all wrong."

Kaveh swallowed, suddenly keenly aware that Alhaitham might very well breed him today. "Whose fault is that?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the heat pooling between his legs at the prospect.

"Mine," Alhaitham replied, brushing Kaveh's hair, cheeks, and lips with trembling, red-shot eyes, as if Kaveh might disappear if he blinked. "I'll take responsibility."

And for once in his life, Kaveh believed him ... without question.

Alhaitham pulled him into another kiss, less monotone this time. Kaveh let himself sink back into the sheets, closed his eyes, and tried to quell his racing thoughts. But those thoughts no longer seemed to reside in his head—they had melted, dissolving into every place Alhaitham's wandering hands touched.

The hands moved with a careful, almost reverent uncertainty, as if they were cataloguing every inch of skin for later study. Kaveh offered more with little hesitation, his own hands faltering only briefly at the hem of his shirt before he pulled it over his head.

The kiss broke as a result, but Kaveh's lungs were still saturated with Alhaitham's scent.

Alhaitham was quick to latch onto a new target.

"P-please, no … no teeth," Kaveh gasped, as Alhaitham seemed determined to envelop a nipple with far more mouth than necessary and far less tongue than expected.

Alhaitham attempted to adjust, widening his mouth, yet the feeling remained more uncomfortable than enjoyable.

"Tongue," Kaveh managed, voice strained. "Use your tongue, for the Archons' sake."

Alhaitham made a muffled sound … something that might have sufficed as an apology, if Kaveh weren't already so senselessly aroused.

Then, finally, Alhaitham got to work. Real work. It started with a prickly sensation … not quite enough to draw a moan from Kaveh, but enough to elicit the breathiest "mhh." Once Alhaitham realized he couldn't just mindlessly focus on one spot like it was a piece of candy, but actually needed to build a rhythm—circling, flicking, and teasing every sensitive part of Kaveh's bud—Kaveh spilled into helpless, unguarded sounds.

He wasn't holding back, either: he actually enjoyed the way the air shifted when his sounds spurred on an alpha's ego (provided they were actually doing a good job). Still, had his chest ever been this sensitive before? It had been a long time, but…

They continued to savor the sensation until Kaveh's pleasure dulled and his noises faded into softer breaths. There was a noticeable pop when Alhaitham finally let go.

Kaveh was about to (somewhat altruistically) inform him that he needed to pay attention to both nipples if he wanted to please an omega to completion.

But Alhaitham's focus had shifted to the now much more noticeable stain spreading across the front of Kaveh's pants.

"Can I?" Alhaitham asked, fingers brushing over the damp fabric. Kaveh wasn't wearing anything sexy or sheer, but even through sturdy cotton, the sensation of those thick, deliberate fingers made him shudder.

For a moment, Kaveh was at a loss for words. Here was Alhaitham—undeniably an alpha in every sense—his arousal obvious even through two layers of fabric. And Archons, he was still wearing that stupid towel.

And yet, this alpha, this indomitable idiot, seemed far more interested in trying out every bedroom trick he'd ever heard of than in soothing his own rut.

Almost as if he'd been planning the sequence of events for years. Ugh.

And wasn't his erection a little … pitiful? Kaveh had never seen any evidence that Alhaitham ever took care of himself during rut: there was no stain on the sheets, not a crumpled tissue in sight. The bedsheets were bunched up at the foot of the bed, but otherwise immaculate, as if Alhaitham had only used it for rest.

Now, Kaveh faced a new, insurmountable challenge: asking Alhaitham if he could touch his cock. "I…" he began, aiming for the sweetest, most submissive tone he could muster, "I want to give you some relief, alpha."

Usually, if Kaveh was in the mood (which he definitely was right now), playing the sweet, eager omega came naturally to him. But now, with the possibility that he might actually be in love with an alpha he was trying to please, the act felt strangely forced.

In love…

The words echoed in his mind, louder than the pounding of his heart. When had it happened? Kaveh was in love.

Alhaitham stared at him for a long, silent moment, nose twitching.

"No," he said bluntly. "We can't risk ejaculation until I'm inside you." He delivered it in the same tone he might use to recite entry-level physics.

"We're both healthy, but we still need to make sure every drop goes where it's meant to. I already know the best angle we can try later. I'm confident you'll enjoy it."

Huh? Wait, what?

Kaveh had just come to terms with the fact that he might be letting himself get pinned beneath Alhaitham for reasons far more sentimental than he'd ever wanted to admit. Meanwhile, Alhaitham was apparently busy running logistics and performing thesis-level calculations on the optimal way to get him pregnant.

No fucking way. Alhaitham was a freak. And Kaveh was in love with this freak.

For lack of a better response, Kaveh just nodded, accepting his fate and whatever optimized sex Alhaitham had planned.

He couldn't deny that part of him was delighted by the idea. His alpha knew how to take care of him (though Kaveh's rational mind protested, given he was about to be bred by a virgin), he had everything mapped out (apparently years in advance), and Kaveh would no doubt become the envy of omegas across Teyvat for carrying the child of such a strong, compatible alpha (Archons, Kaveh might soon be responsible for the birth of another insufferable know-it-all).

He really should have done this while in heat.

Alhaitham took his nod as confirmation to proceed, removing Kaveh's pants and underwear with robotic efficiency—and finally, finally discarding the towel he had wrapped around his own waist.

Kaveh's doubts vanished into the background as the smell of alpha wantonness became more concentrated.

His elusive dream alpha would have called the sight of his hole beautiful and his omega cock cute. Maybe even sighed in reverence at his flawless, manicured legs.

But Alhaitham, who Kaveh now realized had always been that alpha, just studied him, scanning every detail as if checking them against some internal checklist. Only a subtle shift in scent betrayed that everything met his expectations.

"Tongue again, right? Both places?" Alhaitham asked.

Uh. "Yes, and since you've decided to be insufferable again, here's to hoping it falls off du—"

Alhaitham didn't bother letting Kaveh finish. He buried his face between his thighs, licking a broad, wet stripe from his slick entrance up to the head of his cock. Kaveh's breath hitched, his insult dissolving into a strangled moan. No alpha had ever done this—no one had ever put their mouth on him so boldly, let alone licked at his hole with such single-minded focus. And his cock at the same time, which every alpha prior had refused to touch. It was…

Alhaitham's tongue circled Kaveh's rim, teasing and pressing, before flicking up to swirl around the sensitive tip. Kaveh's hips jerked involuntarily, a whimper escaping him, half in disbelief and half in unadulterated bliss. What the hell was this?

"Alhaitham!" he moaned. "Where in the Archons did you learn this?!"

Without looking up, Alhaitham replied, "Learn what, senior?"

Kaveh couldn't even form a retort—because a sturdy finger pressed inside him, slow and unyielding like a rod of metal. It didn't wiggle or hesitate, just sank deeper, deliberate and sure. Bordering on smug.

"I may have done my research, and for male omegas it should be somewhere around here," Alhaitham said, before he began to massage a spot that made Kaveh's whole body go boneless. Of course he'd research. Had he taken notes? Diagrams? Archons, he probably graded them—Not like Kaveh could linger on it, it was as if every nerve in his body had been wired to that one spot. He felt it in his fingertips, his toes, everywhere. All while Alhaitham continued to lap around his cock with more enthusiasm than practice, but still, it...

"So good, alpha. So good to me," he managed to half-babble, half-sigh as more fingers entered him. He lost track of how many. Alhaitham performed scissoring motions, as if that, too, had been studied. Yet, the squelching noises alone satisfied Kaveh in a more instinctual manner than he had ever thought possible.

Yes, he was so ready for his alpha, to finally fulfill his most base purpose as an omega. He knew he wasn't close; that this had to be the kind of sensation that could only overwhelm from the very beginning.

Until, suddenly, the sensations stopped. Kaveh could only bemoan the loss. Though at least, he could finally catch his breath, and with each lungful he took, he felt a bit more like himself again.

"What in the name of..." he managed, voice hoarse, as Alhaitham withdrew his fingers much more quickly than he'd ever added them.

"Sorry," Alhaitham said, sounding sheepish. Well, as sheepish as Alhaitham could sound, which amounted to a negligible sum. "I think I was about to cum."

Kaveh buried his head deeper into the pillow. He wasn't in heat, but he was certain his slick had ruined the sheets by now.

"I swear," he warned, "if, because of all your stalling and grand foreplay ideas, you wind up so riled that you cum the instant you're inside me, I will ask Cyno to officiate our wedding."

Alhaitham didn't miss a beat. "Would that really be such a problem? My refractory period is quite short while I'm in rut. We can just keep going, as I keep releasing more and more inside you. It would also provide additional lubrication."

Why did that sound so hot? "You damn…" He stopped, swallowing hard. Regrettably, it really fucking was. "Fine."

"Glad we've reached an agreement. Turn over for me," Alhaitham said.

Kaveh rolled onto his stomach with a quiet, theatrical huff, shooting a glare over his shoulder. Before he could settle, Alhaitham pressed a pillow into his hand.

"Here. Use this," Alhaitham instructed.

Kaveh clutched the pillow, arching a brow. "What, is my voice that unbearable? Planning to have me muffle myself so you don't have to hear me?"

Alhaitham's hands planted themselves on Kaveh's hips, guiding him into position. "No. I want your hips higher. The pillow's for support, not silence. Scream all you want. I'd rather hear you than not."

Kaveh's cheeks burned, but he couldn't help the flutter in his chest at the blunt honesty. He propped the pillow beneath his hips, the new angle leaving him feeling both exposed and achingly ready. Any second now, he would be breached by … wait, wasn't Alhaitham like absurdly big? At least from the little Kaveh had managed to gather.

As Alhaitham fumbled with his zipper, Kaveh couldn't resist sneaking a glance over his shoulder. And, of course, nature had blessed him—if that was the word—with what could only be described as a grotesque size. "Archons, you've got to be kidding me," he thought. Maybe it was for the best that Alhaitham had turned down that blowjob; there was no way all of that would have fit in Kaveh's mouth.

Well, he was more confident about his hole handling the stretch—Alhaitham was only slightly smaller than his favorite heat toy, after all—but even so, that particular design had never exactly aimed for realism. More perplexing still, despite its imposing size, Alhaitham's cock looked almost sad, its color edging toward purple from neglect. Maybe, Kaveh mused, it could be considered an act of charity to let him come early.

Kaveh had imagined the moment of penetration would be either a grueling struggle for both of them or a seamless, perfect slide. Yet, to his surprise, it slid in easily at first, only to falter as Alhaitham's knot—because of course—formed prematurely. The tingling sensation as the breach finally happened was unexpected; it wasn't the smooth pleasure of the earlier massage or the ritualistic nature of Kaveh's own touch in throes of heat, but rather a teasing, right kind of discomfort that stoked his anticipation instead of dulling it.

"F-finally," Alhaitham huffed, voice rough with relief and longing. "You don't know how long I've waited for this moment."

Alhaitham would surely tell him later, measured in years, days, hours, maybe even minutes. Kaveh didn't dare guess. A still-gloved hand brushed through his hair, down his back, over his hips. The rasp of Alhaitham's voice against his neck, muttering praise too soft to catch, burned deeper than the stretch inside him.

"Here goes nothing," Kaveh thought as Alhaitham began to move. The first thrust was tentative, gentle, not quite sure of its aim. The knot was still a hindrance, but it failed to slow the alpha's determination. Despite everything, Kaveh found himself relaxing into the sheets, tension ebbing away with each shy attempt to press deeper. Even if the mating itself ended up a complete disaster, he realized he was euphoric: being this close to Alhaitham was something he wouldn't trade for anything.

They struggled to find a rhythm at first—plural, because Kaveh quickly tired of letting Alhaitham do all the work. He found it far more satisfying to push back, bouncing against the knot that blocked Alhaitham's way and relishing the guttural sounds it drew from his infuriating junior. Thrust after thrust, Alhaitham seemed to falter, his movements growing shakier, as if he might collapse onto Kaveh's back at any moment.

That was, until Alhaitham found that spot again. And somehow, as if his own body had turned traitor, just a single brush of alpha cock over it sent every nerve in Kaveh's body blazing. It was as if his biology recognized that this time, the cock inside him wasn't fake, nor wrapped in a condom, and decided to reward him with a surge of raw, instinctive pleasure for finally fulfilling a need buried deep in his bones. Every muscle slackened, leaving him open and defenseless, which only made the onslaught of sensation that much harder to bear as Alhaitham focused on that spot with relentless precision.

Kaveh wanted to tell him to slow down, to give him a moment to breathe, but all that escaped his lips were broken, garbled noises. Somewhere between the desperate gasp for air and the next, he vaguely registered Alhaitham spilling inside him: hot, thick, full of promise. The knot swelled to its full size, and what should have marked an abrupt end to the pleasure only sent it soaring to new heights.

The stretch should have hurt, it really should, but instead, it was as if every nerve in his body sang in relief, his flesh welcoming the pressure instead of resisting it. And Alhaitham, just as he'd promised, barely slowed down. Now he had to use more force to reach that spot that made Kaveh unravel beneath him, but Kaveh's chest only swelled with pride at his alpha's sheer display of strength—and a deep, instinctual satisfaction at the bruises being carved into his hips by the relentless grip of his hands.

Kaveh had never felt this gluttonous—this frantic, aching need to stay in constant motion—not even in heat. Alhaitham's finger circled the nipple he'd tormented earlier, but even that wasn't enough. Still not enough to send him over the edge, despite Kaveh never having come undone quite like this before. It was as if his body and mind were both holding out, waiting for one crucial moment … one final spark to tip him over.

His voice, raw with need, was almost recognizable as he rasped, " ... Bite me."

"Please."

Alhaitham didn't slow down, nor did he speed up. Instead, he shifted his grip—sliding his arms from Kaveh's waist to wrap firmly around his chest, pulling him close. He pressed his face to the crook of Kaveh's neck, nuzzling against his skin, as if the act of holding him this way could forge a bond as powerful as any bite. Maybe, in its own way, it did.

Before Kaveh could think to protest or feel enough to beg, pleasure crashed over him: sudden and absolute. For all his earlier wailing, he found himself silent now, breath coming in ragged bursts as the world seemed to collapse around him. He felt full, finally bred. Overwhelmed by the heat of Alhaitham's breath against his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

It made no sense. This love made no sense. It wasn't built on trust, not entirely. It was stubbornness, hope refusing to die.

It wasn't until the trembling subsided that Kaveh realized he had been crying for longer than he thought. Warm tears dampened the nape of his neck.

His neck?

A shaky breath sounded behind him, followed by a sniffle. That was all the proof Kaveh needed that Alhaitham had been crying too.

Maybe his junior had never stopped being cute. If just a little.

Chapter Text

The student hunched in her seat, fingers twisting in her lap. "I just … I thought it was the only way I could still graduate," she confessed. Her admission confirmed what Alhaitham had already suspected the moment she entered.

Here sat the culprit: the one who had stolen The Lexicon of Forgotten Tongues. She was a former Rtawahist student who'd switched to Haravatat in her first semester, now looking decidedly unremarkable for someone who'd breached the House of Daena's security. As she dissolved into another round of sobs, Alhaitham pieced together her story: her mother had pressured her to abandon celestial studies for the (allegedly) less combative field of linguistics. Due to her minimal interest in the subject, she could only write a half-hearted thesis on King Deshret's poetry, lacking any substantive revelation. So, to salvage her paper, she searched everywhere for inspiration … including the restricted section.

Which led, predictably, to her investing more effort in concealment spells than actual research.

Alhaitham exhaled through his nose. The rulebook's prescribed response was clear: academic probation at minimum, likely expulsion. A clean, efficient solution. Kaveh would probably forgive him for following procedure in this case; it was just too straightforward to argue.

"You've already exhausted your extension requests," he observed instead, cutting through her rambling.

Her cheeks flushed. "Y-yes, but the circumstances—"

"Are irrelevant to the violation," he interjected, then paused. Her academic record told a fuller story: not only her history of late submissions, but also the reasons. Her professors knew she had younger siblings to care for following the deaths of her parents in her third semester. Now, she struggled to balance family duties with scholarly ambitions—or what little remained of them. Alhaitham saw no need to voice these details aloud; they explained her desperation, but did not excuse the theft.

It was an unhealthy predicament: securing not just her own future, but that of those she loved most. The thought made him grateful that Kaveh would never have to face such pressures alone, not while Alhaitham could intervene.

"Your study history presents an... interesting overlap," he conceded. "Several cross-listed courses could satisfy either Darshan's requirements. Given Rtawahist's... flexible grading standards,"—here his mouth twisted slightly—"you might petition to have your concealment spells evaluated as a supplemental project. That could cover the credits you're missing."

The woman's hands began trembling in her lap. "Huh? But … but … then I'd graduate under Rtawahist?"

"Correct." His expression didn't flicker. "This isn't guaranteed leniency. You'll have to rewrite the thesis under supervision. But it's an alternative to termination, and you'll only have to enroll for one additional semester."

"And the violations? The forgery? The restricted access—?"

"Curious. My audit logs appear to contain errors. Isn't that my signature listed underneath, granting you access?" Alhaitham tapped his pen against the desk for emphasis. "How unfortunate no one reviewed them thoroughly. The signature looks authentic to me, I must have simply forgotten."

The student stared as if he'd just told her the truth: that the book had been designed to lure and trap students like her. Maybe he should tell her … but honestly, it wasn't worth the time and energy. Besides, Alhaitham saw value in keeping this particular mystery alive.

"T-thank you. I … Grand Sage Alhaitham, I couldn't possibly thank you enough."

He was about to wave her off, until she added, in that whiny cadence of hers, "And congratulations on the baby."

Alhaitham froze. "How do you know that?"

He hadn't announced his and Kaveh's relationship. Nor had he requested parental leave—though Lesser Lord Kusanali knew he'd step down as Acting Grand Sage after Kaveh gave birth to focus on their family. 

If only they could pay off Kaveh's debts in full … this way, he'd never need to return to his position as Scribe and could devote himself fully to educating their little sprout. But plans like that were premature, he knew that.

She stammered, "Uh… The Light o-of Kshahrewar—he was at the ma-market earlier. There was an argument, and then—'"

Alhaitham stood, instantly alert. His pregnant (soon-to-be) mate had left their home? The thought was baffling.

Alhaitham knew the market reeked of fish, an aroma that sent Kaveh retching lately. Not only that: shopping bags were heavy, and the public never hesitated to scrutinize a pregnant omega. There were countless reasons why grocery shopping had become Alhaitham's sole responsibility.

And most troubling of all: how had Kaveh's name been linked to his (romantically or otherwise)?

"I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry," she wailed. "I'm just repeating what I-I've heard. I assumed the rumors were true, a-and—"

"Is Kaveh alright? What exactly did you hear?"

She swallowed a sob. "I'm sure h-he's alright. He was just angry and shouted at a group of merchants, th-that's it. At least, a-according to the rumors."

"Get to the point already."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't g-get mad, but after rumors came up that your scent now carries traces of an omega, some ill-informed merchants at the m-market … allegedly, possibly, they… they publicly dragged your esteemed name and reputation through the mud."

Alhaitham didn't blink.

"Apparently, they said—"

"That it's highly doubtful I'd put any work into courting an omega? That it's dubious how I could even find a mate?" 

Silence stretched. Her flushed cheeks and pale lips were all the confirmation he needed. Rumors like this had always existed. When you spend your life with your nose in a book, people leave you alone: a perfect formula for solitude.

A perfect solution to all of his life's problems, until he met Kaveh, who cracked his world open like an egg, spilling problems he never knew existed. Problems Alhaitham was now more than happy to have.

Kaveh who might now have revealed the nature of their relationship…

"Kaveh … told them the child he's carrying is mine?"

She nodded, and a sweet sensation swelled in Alhaitham's chest. "Y-yes, among other things. Your mate was sure to remind them how much you've sacrificed for b-both him and this nation, Grand Sage. He is lucky to have you."

Alhaitham stared, half-expecting her to reveal this as a ruse. For years, Kaveh had avoided any public connection to Alhaitham: no shared meals unless Cyno and Tighnari were present, no chance encounters in the Grand Bazaar. Now their bodies bore all the evidence: interwoven scents, playful bites along Kaveh's thighs, bruises on Alhaitham's collarbones, the life growing beneath Kaveh's ribs. Yet still, the city saw only what it expected to see. 

And it should have come as a relief to Kaveh. Wasn't this a dream come true? He was Alhaitham's in all ways he considered convenient, but outside their home, no one suspected a thing. Truly, the best possible outcome of choosing Alhaitham as his alpha, out of all the countless of suitors he could have pursued instead. And yet …

Alhaitham had often imagined how they could marry beneath the Divine Tree itself, and how some spectators would still find ways to call it political theater. They'd whisper that brilliant, beautiful Kaveh had been trapped: some compromised heat, an accidental bonding, maybe they weren't careful, maybe Alhaitham failed him on purpose. Poor thing, shackled to that emotionally stunted alpha.

Alhaitham had heard the talks before their thesis argument way back when, when people suspected Kaveh and Alhaitham might be a couple.

It's not like Alhaitham could convince them with words alone, and it's not like Kaveh was the type to indulge in public displays of affection. Alhaitham wasn't seen as trustworthy and Kaveh cared too much for what other people might think. Alhaitham had always been fine with Kaveh wanting to preserve his old life, keeping a residue of distance of sorts. Alhaitham had truly been prepared for that kind of life, even with a child in the picture, and yet…

"Are you displeased? Did I get everything wrong? I-I'm so sorry. My si-sincerest apologies."

Alhaitham shook his head. "No, I'm not displeased at all. Your initial assessment is spot on."

Silence fell, and this time, it didn't fall like a blade as it usually did in this office … no, in this moment, it felt soft, cushioned.

Alhaitham, who spoke 21 languages and had dissected countless poems in his life, had no words to describe this feeling. He tried to put it into words regardless: "I hadn't considered that this outcome… could become even more favorable," he said quietly, in a voice he never thought he could use.

In response to Alhaitham's awe, the student offered a smile so obviously terrified that even Alhaitham couldn't mistake it for anything else. "Uhm, yes. Congratulations, Grand Sage Alhaitham."

How bothersome. He rarely smiled without layers of irony, so perhaps the sight of his unrestrained joy unsettled her. Alhaitham let the thought pass, his face settling back into its usual impassivity.

"You are dismissed."

He didn't spare her a glance as she left. He was too occupied, not just with the jingle of his house keys in hand, but with the profound swell of pride in his chest.

The entire city knew. The entire city knew Kaveh had chosen him. As he walked, the very pavement beneath his feet felt as if it might as well have belonged to him.

When Alhaitham pushed open the door to his house mere minutes later, Mehrak greeted him with a curious, questioning beep. Recently, she had become notably more vocal, thanks to Kaveh's modifications to her empathy module—tinkered with long before he ever imagined he'd be preparing her not just for "his" child, but for "their" child, and the new life they were building together.

Alhaitham, preoccupied, barely acknowledged Mehrak, striding instead toward the kitchen, where the scent of simmering soup already curled through the air.

"Alhaitham!" Kaveh's exasperated shout met him before he could cross the threshold. "I told you not to be rude to Mehrak!"

Mehrak chirped in agreement, her tone almost indignant at the slight. Normally, Alhaitham would at least acknowledge her with a nod, but today his mind was elsewhere. He stepped into the kitchen.

Kaveh was stirring a pot with the same focus he reserved for his architectural sketches. The soft fabric of his shirt hugged his body more snugly than before, accommodating a gentle swell at his waist. The sight made something warm and possessive stir in Alhaitham's chest.

Without thinking, Alhaitham wrapped his arms around Kaveh from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"W-wait, I'm busy—" Kaveh protested half-heartedly, but soon gave in. So soon in fact, Alhaitham would have teased him over it on any other day. Kaveh grumbled as he adjusted Alhaitham's hold so he could keep stirring the soup. "You're so clingy today. What's gotten into you?"

Alhaitham snorted. "I should be the one asking that. You went to the market without me?"

Kaveh slowed his stirring, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Am I not allowed to care for you? To me, these trips aren't a burden. Far from it. Besides, I needed fresh mint for the soup, and your stash expired two years ago."

"Care for me?" Alhaitham echoed, voice low.

Kaveh laughed, light and airy, far more unguarded than he had ever sounded before. "Silly alpha. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Even with your noise-canceling earpieces, your fingers still twitch toward your headphones whenever a vendor shouts."

Alhaitham tightened his grip, letting reality settle around him. He truly was holding the flesh-and-blood Kaveh, as naturally as if he were cradling his morning coffee. They'd truly come this far together.

"I-I thought…" Alhaitham began, uncharacteristically hesitant.

"I know," Kaveh interrupted, voice teasing. "You're quick, you're subtle. But nothing my junior does ever escapes my eyes… not after I've—graciously, mind you—promoted you to fiancé."

Alhaitham let out a raspy, deeply instinctual grunt as he nuzzled against Kaveh's neck. "Still waiting for a ring."

"Ring? That's supposed to be your job!" Kaveh protested, though there was no real bite to his words. If anything, he sounded amused by Alhaitham's uncharacteristic poutiness.

"Never would have taken you for the traditional type," Alhaitham mused.

"Don't be silly, Alhaitham. You should know I've always dreamed of a perfect proposal, complete with a ring."

Alhaitham stilled. Kaveh had done more than enough—voicing his needs, shaping their routine, accepting him in every way, even on the public stage. Maybe it was only fair to give Kaveh this, too.

"I might already have something in mind," Alhaitham admitted, mentally reviewing the jeweler's catalog he'd memorized weeks ago. His initial preference had been platinum: hypoallergenic, scratch-resistant, appropriately understated. But the memory of Kaveh's sketches—pages filled with intricate filigree and gemstone arrangements—gave him pause.

(Not that he'd been looking at Kaveh's private sketchbook. The drawings had simply been left open on the drafting table, be that on purpose or not, and while not as advanced as Kaveh's, Alhaitham still had an excellent memory for details.)

Gold would tarnish more easily, and the sparkly, attention-grabbing variety of gems tended to be heavy and impractical. Yet the thought of Kaveh's face lighting up made his chest tighten strangely. Practicality aside, his omega deserved to preen. Besides, a gaudy ring would be easier to spot when Kaveh inevitably misplaced it during one of his creative ventures.

And if people noticed the rings glinting from afar and drew the natural conclusions, that was all the better.

"You'd better be telling the truth," Kaveh said, voice dripping with the unspoken threat of retaliation if presented with anything less than dazzling.

There were still things left to say before they settled down for dinner. (Maybe with the promise of something more afterward, if Alhaitham was lucky).

"Did you see anything interesting at the market?" Alhaitham asked, voice casual.

Kaveh laughed, dry and knowing. "Oh, yes, indeed! You won't believe what happened. I ran into Sethos, and you'll never guess what he said when he noticed my belly—"

Alhaitham rolled his eyes. "Not that."

"Alhaitham, I promise, this story is funny to people with a normal sense of humor. Anyway, apparently, he thought that Cyno—"

Alhaitham normally considered himself a patient man. Maybe too patient for his own good. Not today, though.

"Now he knows, right? Like everyone else," Alhaitham interrupted, voice steady.

Kaveh stopped stirring. The soup bubbled, its herbal aroma thick in the air ... another byproduct of Kaveh's pregnancy cravings, no doubt.

"Knows what?" Kaveh asked, voice thin.

"That we're in this together. I was told you announced it … rather publicly."

Wordlessly, Kaveh used his dendro powers to snuff out the fire beneath the pot.

"Yes," he admitted, voice quiet. "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me earlier."

Alhaitham cocked an eyebrow, though Kaveh couldn't see it.

"I stole the spotlight again," Kaveh continued, words tumbling out. "I took another once-in-a-lifetime moment from you, and now everyone must be pestering you, and you couldn't even prepare for it. All because I'm impatient, and sometimes I get too brazen, and—"

Alhaitham couldn't quite reach Kaveh's lips from this angle, so he settled for a gentle kiss to his temple instead.

"You should know me better than anyone, dear senior," Alhaitham murmured. "Leave the quiet gestures to me, just like we always have. And I'll happily leave the grand speeches to you."

Kaveh's heart beat loudly against Alhaitham's chest. Maybe Alhaitham's was loud, too. He wouldn't know.

"Always."

Kaveh finally leaned back into Alhaitham's embrace, letting the warmth of the kitchen and the scent of herbs settle around them. He wouldn't even mind if the soup went cold.

Outside, the city buzzed with the crush of bodies and a tapestry of voices, but inside their home, the only sound that mattered was the steady rhythm of their shared life, a quiet certainty that the sun shining through the windows would always be the same, rising again and again.