Archive of Our Own

Plans hatched, goodbyes wished. The chatter of the Grand Bazaar dims as Alhaitham pushes past the doors to the main street. This time tomorrow, Grand Sage Azar will be overthrown, Lesser Lord Kusanali will be freed, and the city will be spared from a false god. Or, perhaps, he and the rest of his misfit gang will be locked up somewhere in the depths of the Akademiya, left to wallow in their own failure as the archon wastes away in her sanctuary and the blasphemous sages rule Sumeru with their new deity. Perhaps he’ll be lucky if he’s even alive to see it. The potential outcomes are limitless. The chance of success is unknowable. 

For now, there’s no use worrying about it. He turns his thoughts instead to more practical matters. Food. Sleep. Things he can control. 

Days spent wandering the desert left the food stocked in his home to perish. Between making sure all his preparations were in order and plotting to overthrow the Akademiya’s governing body, he since has not had enough time to replenish his supply. For now, dinner is easily handled by stopping at a street vendor. Preferable, even, to avoid wasting time with preparation. The shadows grow long and he’s itching to return home before they swallow the city in darkness. Each ticking minute is a minute of rest lost. Alhaitham quickly runs the math. After wrapping up his remaining affairs for the day, he should be able to manage a good eight hours of sleep. That is optimal. 

There’s a stall on the way home. He’s relieved when it comes into view and sees only a moderately-sized queue. It’s too optimistic to expect no wait; this time of day, lines grow quickly. Corps of Thirty mercenaries, dock workers, Akademiya students and faculty all off the clock, filing in one after the other, hungry and impatient. Not long ago, he used to be among them. Normalcy feels far away now. 

He stands in line behind two chattering women in Akademiya uniforms. Kshahrewar students, by the looks of it. He knows their type too well. One glances at him and immediately averts her gaze. She leans in towards her friend, whispers something in her ear, and they both stiffly avoid looking at him as they continue to converse in hushed tones. The lack of subtlety almost makes him laugh. 

Being recognized as the scribe puts him in a difficult position, but two random students won’t jeopardize him. Knowledge travels quickly through the Akasha. He hasn’t exactly been hiding. The sages no doubt already know that he’s returned to the city—alongside the Traveler no less—and have begun plotting. His prolonged absence won’t be excused. He’s had to factor all of this into his plans. Standing out on the street, in plain view, is no more a target painted on his back than what he’s already placed there himself. He’s accepted it; if he wants to return to the Akademiya, to his comfortable, secure job, he has no choice but to turn the whole system on its head. 

A familiar flash of gold catches his eye. He and Aether meet each other's gaze at the same time. On the other side of the street, Aether stops in his tracks, his eyes lighting up with surprise. 

“Oh, Alhaitham,” Aether says as he approaches, “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you would be headed straight home.”

“My home is this way,” Alhaitham says. “Naturally, I’m familiar with this stall and as his regular, the owner is also familiar with my preferences, so as long as his food meets my standards there’s little need to go elsewhere.”

“Is that so? In that case, what would you recommend? I’m still new to the Sumeran palate, but so far I’ve had no complaints.”

“I’m partial to their shawarmas,” says Alhaitham. “Each vendor in the city has their own style; some better than others.”

“I think I’ll have one too, then.”

Aether joins him in line without prompting, cutting through to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Alhaitham. Someone behind them huffs loudly, but the line moves too quickly for Aether’s added headcount to truly inconvenience anyone. It’s another quality Alhaitham values from this stand; the service leaves little room for discussion. In and out with blinding efficiency, not a single wasted moment in between. He orders and pays for the both of them, and Aether can barely get a syllable of protest out before a neatly-wrapped shawarma is handed to him. 

It feels almost a shame to part ways so soon. Together, they cross to a quieter part of the street, where a bench affords them a spot to stop and eat. The meal passes quickly, almost somberly. Tomorrow weighs too heavily on the mind. Alhaitham can see it in the way Aether stares off into the distance while he chews, his shoulders tense. There’s a distinct lack of chatter from him; the silence between them strikes Alhaitham as uncanny. 

“Your little companion isn’t with you,” he says. 

“Nilou and Dehya offered to take us out for a meal; of course, Paimon was on board, but I didn’t think I could stomach it.”

“Too anxious?”

“To be honest, I'm not sure if I’ll manage any sleep tonight,” Aether says. He laughs, a hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Maybe it’s silly, considering the things I’ve faced before. Rescuing a god shouldn’t be as hard as fighting one, right? But it’s the anticipation, deep in my bones; the need to move, to run. To fight. If I don’t get the energy out of my system, I feel like I might explode.”

Alhaitham hums, tucking away the most interesting snippet of information for later. “Exercise is conducive to a good night's rest.”

Aether’s eyes drift conspicuously towards Alhaitham’s chest. “Speaking from experience?”

“A sharp mind requires a sharp body,” Alhaitham says simply. 

“I don’t think any amount of exercise could sharpen my mind as much as yours.”

“It doesn’t have to. You’re competent in your own right. If rumors are to be believed, none could hope to match your own feats. A direct comparison would be unfair.”

Aether laughs. “You know, I don’t think you ever say these things for the sake of making me feel better, but somehow it does anyways. I think it’s the way you seem to believe everything you say.”

“That would be because I do believe it,” says Alhaitham. “Just as I have confidence in my own intellect, there’s nothing for you to feel deficient in.”

“Ah, I…” Aether trails off hesitantly. Alhaitham manages to catch a dusting of pink across his cheeks when he glances down. Interesting; someone of his caliber should be more used to accepting compliments. “Thanks,” he says. 

Seconds tick by. They don’t feel wasted in Aether’s presence. A moment alone with Aether is a rare thing. If he’s not surrounded by his myriad of acquaintances at any given moment, he’s trailed incessantly by Paimon. In the desert, there was too much on everyone’s minds to enjoy the brief periods of quiet. But now, even with the uncertainty of failure hanging between them, Alhaitham sits next to Aether and feels oddly… at peace. 

Aether swallows the last of his meal, crumples up the wrapper in his hands. “You said you live this way, right?” he asks. 

Alhaitham nods. “And you—do you have somewhere to stay the night?”

“Well, I did have a room.” Aether’s eyebrows furrow as he considers this. “Though I haven’t paid for it since I fled the city, so I imagine I don’t have one any longer. But as long as I have my realm dispatch, I won’t be lacking for shelter.”

“If you don’t have elsewhere to go, then you can stay with me.”

Aether blinks at him. “With you?”

Alhaitham wants to believe it’s pure practicality that prompted him to offer. All the reasons are there: Aether doesn’t need to waste time finding somewhere else to stay; he can lie low and avoid unnecessary contact with others; there’s safety in numbers. There is no glaring flaw with the suggestion. In truth, he has no idea why he did. The words slipped from his mouth before his mind processed them. The fact is discomfiting. “Yes. It’s close by and my roommate is away on assignment, so there won’t be any disturbances. You are welcome to stay if you’d like.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“You don’t have to be polite for my sake,” says Alhaitham. “I’m the one who offered.”

“Right, it’s you after all,” says Aether. He smiles, hesitant but bright. “All right, then, lead the way.”

—

Alhaitham’s home is blissfully silent. Remnants of the setting sun cast shimmering rays of color through the stained glass windows. Not a single piece of furnishing has moved from where he last left it. Everything is how it should be. 

Boots left at the door, Aether follows behind him, his footsteps lighter than a cat’s. His eyes stray around with quiet purpose: he notes the layout of the home, the doors, and various other objects in the rooms. He thanks Alhaitham for his hospitality but keeps his hands to himself. A polite houseguest—if a bit awkward, not quite familiar enough with Alhaitham or his home to make himself comfortable. The awkwardness doesn’t bother Alhaitham. He prefers it over having his space imposed upon. 

The silence stretches on. Alhaitham doesn’t entertain guests. Frankly, he can’t claim he knows how to. Saying something trite like feel free to make yourself at home would be a flagrant lie. Given their relationship is less formal than colleagues and more amicable than acquaintances, Aether deserves something more earnest. After a moment, he begins with, “Do you need anything?”

“I guess I should just rest,” says Aether. “We’ve been running around Sumeru nonstop for days. I’ve still got sand stuck between my toes. The chafing has been relentless and I stink.”

“I’ll show you to the bath, then,” says Alhaitham. “You can take Kaveh’s bed for tonight, though if it is not up to your standards the divans are more than large enough to accommodate you.”

Aether visibly relaxes once he’s bathed and cleaned up. He looks at home wrapped in one of Alhaitham’s robes, drying his hair with Alhaitham’s towel, sharing Alhaitham’s space as if he belongs there. Alhaitham, too, finds himself less on edge. He had expected something more troublesome; living with a man like Kaveh conditioned him to expect the greatest inconvenience possible when opening his home up to others. Countless nights going to sleep in his own home with sound-proof headphones on forced the habit. Clearly, he had misjudged. He’s not afraid to admit it; having preconceived notions challenged is necessary for the learning of a scholar, and above all, it’s refreshing. 

Seeing as Aether lacks any proper sleepwear, Alhaitham offers him his own clothes. The bottoms simply slide down Aether’s waist, and he quickly abandons them. He drowns in Alhaitham’s shirt; on him, it looks more like a dress. It covers enough to suffice, yet not enough to be called modest, hem cutting across the top of Aether’s smooth thighs. They’re toned, not overly muscular but not lacking in definition either. It’s easy to underestimate Aether, with his thin frame, unimposing figure, and pleasant disposition. The sages surely have. Alhaitham knows better. 

His eyes linger a moment too long on the way the shirt’s overlarge collar exposes Aether’s clavicle. His gaze trails upwards, up the line of Aether’s neck, tracing his delicate jawline, stopping at his lips. They part, slightly, when Aether notices Alhaitham focused on them, and curl around a tense inhale. 

It doesn’t matter who leans in first. Aether meets him halfway, reaching out towards Alhaitham’s arm for leverage as he stands on his toes to reach Alhaitham’s lips. The kiss is cautious, careful exploration between two people who have learned to trust each other through necessity. It’s Aether who deepens it, a soft whine escaping him when Alhaitham lets him in. Aether’s lips are soft, plush, moving pleasantly against his own. He tastes of lingering spice. More than that, he smells like Alhaitham, and the realization sends a shiver of warmth down his gut. 

It’s also Aether who is the first to pull away, rocking back onto his heels. His fingers stay curled around Alhaitham’s forearm. His eyelashes flutter over his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s… the nerves. Thought I should get that out of my system before whatever happens tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I reciprocated.”

“Still, I– you didn’t invite me into your home for this.”

“No,” Alhaitham agrees, “but I’m not necessarily against it.”

“You don’t have to sound too enthusiastic,” Aether says. His eyes cast downward. It’s clear he’s trying to deflect out of embarrassment. 

Alhaitham is not someone who spends more time in the presence of others than necessary. He keeps himself unpredictable just so people can’t find him. He’s difficult to approach, and even more difficult to get along with. He likes it that way. It spares him the inconvenience of unnecessary, bothersome interaction and frees up time for himself. So when he admits he wanted to kiss Aether, wants to continue kissing Aether, it bears more weight than he can convey through words alone. 

“Aether,” Alhaitham says, and when Aether’s head tilts up just so, he kisses him again. 

That seems to be enough encouragement for Aether, who responds eagerly. His grip around Alhaitham’s arm tightens enough that he might as well be drowning in the sea and holding onto Alhaitham as a lifeline. The gasps that escape his lips, too, edge on desperate, pleading. 

The height difference between them strains their kiss. They part just long enough for Alhaitham to lay his hands around Aether’s waist and guide him towards his bed, where Aether straddles Alhaitham’s legs. Their faces level with each other now, Alhaitham finds himself staring a moment too long at Aether’s slick lips, red and plump. His flushed cheeks, his hazy golden eyes. Kaveh might tell him time and time again that Alhaitham has no eye for beauty, but even the most prosaic of men would not mistake the sight in front of him—Aether is beautiful. 

Aether’s grip on him finally lets up, only for his hands to explore up Alhaitham’s bicep, his shoulder, then flattening across his chest. It seems to fascinate him. His eyelashes flutter over his cheeks as he stares at where his palms press indents into Alhaitham’s flesh. He trails his fingers down Alhaitham’s pecs, to his abs, down the jut of his hip bone. 

“Does it please you that much?” Alhaitham says, earning a surprised jolt. “My physique. You seemed interested in it before.”

Aether’s eyes refocus, as if waking from a daydream. “You’re very beautiful,” he says even as his cheeks continue to darken. “It’s only natural to want to appreciate it.”

Alhaitham finds himself smiling. Funny how their thoughts tread the same path. Where they rest on his waist, his own hands trace Aether’s soft skin idly, eliciting a shudder in response. He should stop this here; they’ve indulged in this long enough. The night grows long and tomorrow crawls ever closer. The rest he so meticulously planned hangs in the balance. They can’t afford distractions. 

He doesn’t stop. 

“Show me, then,” he says, “how much you appreciate it.”

From Aether’s shaky smile, his fervid blushing, Alhaitham does not expect the ease with which Aether undoes his sashes and pulls out his cock, nor the confidence with which he takes it into his mouth. His cheeks hollow prettily around him, lips slick with spit. When their eyes meet, Alhaitham finds himself reaching a hand out to stroke Aether’s delicate jawline. 

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yes. Are you jealous?” Aether licks his lips, head tilting coquettishly. “Do you wish you were my first, that the Traveler was untouched and pure?”

“No; rather, it saves me the time of having to guide you.”

“Of course you would say that.” Aether laughs. “It would be sexier if you were jealous.”

Sexier? Alhaitham shakes his head as Aether swallows him down his throat once more. “You would prefer I shackle you to myself, that I eliminate all past and future lovers and make you mine and mine alone?”

A groan answers him. It reverberates pleasantly around Alhaitham’s cock. That hot, slick tongue works him again, setting a steady rhythm. Aether is noisy; he sucks wetly, messily, pleased little noises escaping him as he savors the entire length of Alhaitham’s cock. He keeps Alhaitham on edge, so close, close, yet never quite spilling over, until—

“Aether,” Alhaitham says, and that’s the only warning he manages to get out before he comes. 

Aether surfaces from his cock in time with a wet pop. His open mouth catches some of Alhaitham’s release, but the rest spurts in thick rivulets on his cheek, his chin, dripping all over his knuckles. He straightens, wipes his face, and settles onto his calves, expectant. Alhaitham can see the wet strain against the fabric of his underwear. 

“Here,” Alhaitham says, reaching out toward the waistband. “I’ll return the favor.”

“I have, ah, an idea,” Aether says, though he allows the touch, shimmying as Alhaitham tugs the cloth past his knees. 

Without further explanation, he reaches behind himself with his still slick fingers, eyebrows furrowing as he lets out a small gasp. He shudders forward into Alhaitham’s lap. His other hand leverages himself against Alhaitham’s chest. Over Aether’s shoulder, Alhaitham watches two fingers go in, and out, and in. 

Alhaitham grips Aether’s pert ass, kneads and spreads the cheeks as Aether continues stretching himself open, momentarily distracted by how the soft flesh gives way so tenderly under his palms. He nudges Aether’s hand away and replaces it with his own, prodding at Aether’s entrance with a finger. It slips in without resistance. “Oh,” gasps Aether, forehead falling to Alhaitham’s shoulder. “Like that, yes. More.”

Slick with Alhaitham’s own come, Aether’s ass invites the next finger in easily, and then another. Aether moans, giving into the feeling of Alhaitham’s fingers fucking into him. His hips move sensuous circles, trying to get Alhaitham’s fingers as deep into him as possible while chasing the friction of his cock against Alhaitham’s abs. He’s hard and leaking so desperately, Alhaitham has to marvel at the sight of the beloved Traveler reduced to shameless rutting in his lap. 

“Can you come like this, untouched?”

Aether whimpers into his shoulder. “Please– no– I want to ride your cock.”

If Alhaitham was half-hard already, slowly recovering from his previous orgasm, Aether’s words have him reaching an aching fullness. He pulls his hand out to stroke himself and Aether wastes no time, lining his hole up with the head of Alhaitham’s cock. His mouth falls open as it enters him. Alhaitham lays a kiss on his lower lip, then a bite as Aether clenches hot and tight around him. 

Aether bottoms out, throwing his head back as he takes it all in. He stays like that for a moment, relishing being filled with Alhaitham’s cock. Then, he starts to move. 

Alhaitham recalls their prior conversation, when Aether vented about his pent-up anxiety. He must be getting it out of his system now, as he rides Alhaitham’s cock like his life depends on it, skin slapping against skin, wet and harsh and lewd, taking full control of his own pleasure. He’s obscenely loud, moaning as he bounces on Alhaitham’s cock. Even the slightest touch makes him gasp. When Alhaitham thrusts his hips up as Aether grinds down, he cries out, the sound wrenched from deep within his throat. Alhaitham kisses the hollow of his neck, feels every sound that escapes Aether beneath his lips. 

It’s messy. It’s rough. Aether comes first, leaving fat, streaking stains across Alhaitham’s top in the process. Having come once already, Alhaitham lasts a bit longer, but soon he empties into Aether with a grunt. 

Seated fully on Alhaitham and milking every last drop from him, Aether uses what energy he has left to roll his hips lazily. Their lips meet once more; he kisses Alhaitham with a languid swirl of tongue. He seems to revel in being filled, and he’s just the right amount of tight heat to convince Alhaitham to indulge him for a few minutes longer. 

When he’s taken his fill, Aether finally pulls himself off of Alhaitham, then flops belly-first onto the bed. A thick glob of come drips out of him. He doesn’t look in any shape to move. “Aether, you should clean yourself up,” Alhaitham says. “You’re going to leave a mess.”

“You don’t waste any time, do you. Have some consideration for the guy who just rode your cock,” Aether mumbles into the bed, though he props himself up gingerly without further protest. He winces as more leaks out of him, and quietly acquiesces to getting dragged into Alhaitham’s bathroom. 

Feeling generous enough, Alhaitham helps him, running a damp rag over Aether’s sweaty skin. He lets a proper bath for himself after, soaking in it just a little longer than necessary. By the time he returns, Aether’s burrowed himself into Alhaitham’s blankets, hair spilling all over the sheets. His eyes are closed, his breaths steady. Not a single twitch as Alhaitham approaches. 

Alhaitham stands there, watching him, and debates the pros and cons of leaving him where he lies. The bed is large enough for both of them. He does not share it with others. Aether, being the key element in tomorrow’s plans, will perform best with uninterrupted rest. His presence may interrupt Alhaitham’s own sleep. 

Ultimately, his creeping fatigue wins out. He settles next to Aether, closes his eyes, and sleeps a dreamless sleep. 

—

Alhaitham performs his role flawlessly. He lets the guards drag him past the city, the forest, down a quiet stretch of the road, before he dispatches them. They go down easily, too surprised to even cry for help before they’re knocked out. He leaves their unconscious bodies where they lie and makes his way towards Caravan Ribat. 

All he can do is wait. He’s played his part; soon, he’ll know if the others have successfully fulfilled their own. 

Things happen quickly after that. As soon as he steps into the desert, knowledge floods through his mind. Lesser Lord Kusanali’s pleas filter in through the Akasha terminal; even if he’s never heard her voice before, none in Sumeru could mistake it. Childlike, uncertain, yet somehow familiar, it sparks a nagging sense of déjà vu within him. Free for the first time in her long existence, she commands her people with a shaky conviction. She harnesses the knowledge of her people to defeat the usurper god. She wears the pride of an archon. 

At the center of it all is the Traveler. Through the knowledge pulsing through the Akasha Alhaitham sees him, the cycles of struggle against an enemy far beyond his size and power, and Alhaitham… feels something. Not quite fear, not quite hope. He fails to find the word for it, and that fact alone fills him with unease. 

The unease persists long after Aether emerges victorious; there’s still something left to do. Something beyond his own calculations. The air shifts, warps. He feels the moment when it coalesces. And then—

Life returns to normal. 

Alhaitham returns to his work like he never left. Whispers follow him. Aether, Cyno, Dehya, Nilou—the people praise them as heroes of Sumeru. But Alhaitham is an unknown. Whether he helped out of his own goodwill or to gain power or whether he even helped at all, his role in it remains murky. Alhaitham does nothing to clear it up. 

That doesn’t stop them from trying to make him the Grand Sage. Naturally, his name coming up for the position was something he expected. Their reluctance to honor his refusal also lies within his prediction. As scribe, he worked closely enough with Azar to know the Grand Sage is a position suited only for a particular kind of ego. Alhaitham lacks it. People don’t understand. They see his genius, assume he’s like all other geniuses, assume he secretly delights in having the power and recognition to show off that genius. They always find it off putting when they learn he’s nothing like them. It makes him dangerous. 

No matter; whether others understand him or not doesn’t change anything. All he can do is continue on with his own business, regardless of what others think that business should be. 

The Grand Bazaar is livelier than usual today. The space overflows with stalls, patrons, theater staff that he has to step past. As he approaches the stage, Alhaitham notes the familiar decorations placed about, theater props and set decorations repurposed for the feast. To the back of the platform, the theater’s musicians play an ambient tune. Not overly flashy, but not too modest either; it’s clear a lot of effort was put into planning. Nilou flutters about, entertaining her guests, finishing up her arrangements, pausing only when she sees him. “Oh, Alhaitham, I’m glad you made it!” she says, smiling brightly at him. “We’re only waiting for the Traveler and Paimon now.”

“Hello,” Alhaitham says, then nods in greeting to the others sitting together on the floor, cards laid out between them.

“We were betting on whether you’d actually show up or not. Word on the street is you’re a big shot now,” Dehya says with a grin. She holds out a hand to Cyno. “Guess that means you gotta pay up, General Mahamatra.”

“Hardly,” scoffs Alhaitham. “Cyno is the one who deserves congratulations tonight, is he not?”

Cyno hands Dehya some coins with a wrinkle of his nose. “It’s nothing special; I’m just being reinstated to my former position. Don’t let that distract you all from being in the presence of the next Grand Sage.”

“You already know I haven't accepted the position, nor do I plan to.”

“Huh? Why not? Sounds like a sweet gig to me,” says Dehya.

“Well if that's what you think, then you won’t mind if I put your name in for the running.”

Dehya grimaces. “Uh… yeah, no thanks. All of the mora in the world couldn’t get me to run that circus. Not that they’d want me to anyways. But you’re, like—” She gestures vaguely at him. “—one of them.”

“‘One of them’?”

She shrugs. “You know, all frumpy and serious. Isn’t becoming a sage always the endgame for you Akademiya types? Seems like a huge deal to be picked.” She looks to Dunyarzad and Cyno, as if searching for input. 

“If you can accuse Alhaitham of anything, surely it isn’t being conventional,” says Cyno. 

“You’re one to talk!”

“Oh, it’s so lively already!” comes a voice. “Looks like we’re the last ones to arrive.”

Aether walks up to them, Paimon floating by his side. He greets them, gaze lingering a moment longer on Alhaitham, and peers down at the cards placed about. “Oh, are you guys playing Genius Invokation?”

Cyno perks up. “You play? You can join us after this round if you’d like.”

“I’m about to lose anyways. Might as well concede,” Dehya says with a sigh. “I swear these dice rolls are rigged.”

Aether shakes his head. “It’s got a small following in Inazuma, but I never had the time to learn.”

Cyno considers this, crossing his arms and staring up at Aether as if sizing up his potential as a card game rival. “It’s simple enough. Let me teach you.”

Genius Invokation TCG is introduced over the feast Nilou prepared. To one side, Alhaitham eats quietly, commenting every once in a while as Cyno explains the rules of the game to Aether and launches into a demonstration of card types, dice rolls, and elemental reactions. Aether picks up information quickly, without need for repeats, and they soon begin a round with Dehya’s borrowed deck. From where Alhaitham sits cross-legged beside Aether, he can see his hand. Aether catches him watching over his shoulder and tilts the cards towards him. 

Aether loses his first match, which comes as no surprise, but the next grows unexpectedly intense, the two of them matching each other evenly at every turn. Cyno’s eyebrows furrow; Aether’s own pinch in concentration. With one card left hanging on for dear life, he ekes out a win with a lucky roll and immediately turns to Alhaitham, hands clenched in a victorious fist as a pleased grin overtakes his face. The sheer delight radiating from him makes Alhaitham smile back.

Drinks flow more readily than ever as the feast is polished off. Nilou performs a dance for them, twirling beautifully across the stage in her flowing silks, then urges everyone to join her. Aether and Paimon don’t need any persuasion to dance, though how much floating intersects with dancing remains up for debate. Dehya puts on a show of protest, but crumbles under Dunyarzad’s command. Cyno crosses his arms and resolutely stays at the fringes of the stage, his glare daring anyone to convince him otherwise.

Alhaitham simply watches. He watches as Dunyarzad and Dehya spin each other around. He watches Nilou teach Aether some steps, correcting his feet and arms as he mimics her moves. He’s not nearly as graceful as her, but there’s a familiarity in his steps, a sensuality to the movement of his hips. He seems well aware he’s being watched, gaze locking with Alhaitham’s own, and that only spurs him on. Never breaking eye contact, he smiles as he twists his body, letting a little more exaggeration to the jut of his hips, fingers dancing up his exposed belly. 

Alhaitham chases the lump in his throat down with wine. 

The song ends. Another picks up, slower, smoother. Aether skips up to him with a blinding grin. “You’re really going to stand here and watch instead of joining?”

“If you’re here to convince me to dance, you’d better give up.”

He laughs, swaying a bit. Alhaitham reaches out towards his hips to steady him, and Aether’s arms encircle his shoulders in turn. “You made time out of your busy schedule to see us. Why not let loose a bit? It’s fun, I promise.”

“You’re tipsy.”

“I can still dance well enough.” To demonstrate, he sways to the rhythm of the music, leveraging Alhaitham’s shoulders to swing his body back and forth in a one-sided dance. 

Alhaitham’s grip tightens. “You’re going to fall if you keep doing that.”

“You won’t let me, will you?” As if to prove his point, he pushes himself off Alhaitham’s shoulders. Alhaitham has to lean in to catch him as he falls backwards, palm splayed across Aether’s spine. Aether grins, lifting up a leg. “A perfect dip,” he says. “See, you’re a natural.”

Maybe Aether is a little further gone than Alhaitham thought. He gingerly sets Aether back upright and holds his arms to keep him from moving more, but Aether seems to be vibrating under his skin. “You should sit down before you hurt yourself.”

“I only had a glass or two. Not even enough to get me drunk on an empty stomach. You’re just no fun,” Aether says.

Alhaitham leans in until Aether shudders, and drops his voice even lower. “How’s this: I’ll let the others know you’ve had a bit too much to drink, and you need some fresh air. I’ve offered to accompany you, as I am also in need of some respite from the festivities. Then, I’ll show you my idea of fun.”

Aether’s throat bobs. They don’t even make it out the doors of the Grand Bazaar. Instead, he pins Aether against a quiet corner behind the blanket shop, where Aether sets to work freeing their cocks. He spits generously into his palm and slicks them both up, frotting against Alhaitham’s cock to chase the friction. Alhaitham bucks against him, sighing as Aether’s fist tightens just enough.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about this.”

“Tell me,” Alhaitham says. 

“I’ve come so many times to the memory of your– ah, your cock filling me. My fingers aren’t enough anymore.”

Alhaitham groans at the thought; the memory haunts him too, and no amount of tight friction from his own hand has been enough to satisfy him since. The fact that Aether has been similarly ruined—the simmering heat in his gut threatens to bubble over. 

The threat of getting caught forces them to abandon hope of anything more than a quick and dirty fuck. There’s no way to stretch Aether out comfortably with just spit. Instead, Aether squeezes his thighs together and lets Alhaitham’s cock slide in between plush flesh while taking his own pleasure into his hand. It’s not as tight, not as slick or hot as Aether’s hole, and it’s the thrill that gets Alhaitham off more than anything. He comes with a grunt, spilling over the ground, dribbling a bit onto Aether’s inner thigh. Aether follows suit. 

Aether swipes his fingers across his skin, licking up the mess, then tucks himself neatly back into his pants. He pats down some errant strands of hair. “Do you want to get back to the party?” he asks. 

“Not particularly, no.”

“Wanna get out of here then?”

Aether offers out his hand; Alhaitham considers it for a moment before taking it. Together, they leave the Grand Bazaar. 

—

The affair with Siraj and his hivemind provides a minor distraction from endlessly monotonous work, even if it proves more effort than it’s worth. Running errands around Sumeru, busting a scheme that was always doomed to fail—these are not typically matters he involves himself in, nor do they miraculously become less tedious when pursued for the sake of his own curiosity. These tasks are more Aether’s forte, and it is his presence that makes them all the more bearable. 

The Hive falls apart. Siraj surrenders. Cyno cleans things up with commendable efficiency. They’ve formed a mutual respect towards each other, deepened during Alhaitham’s brief tenure as Acting Grand Sage. Cyno is professional, competent, and doesn’t waste his time. Alhaitham, in turn, stays out of the matras’ way. During the few occasions they meet up for drinks, they bring no mention of work along. It’s a perfect professional relationship. 

He leaves as Siraj and his conspirators are rounded up. Such a large operation would typically result in mountains of paperwork, the bulk of which would be left to Alhaitham. Thankfully, with the matra so closely involved, the matter of bureaucracy falls to them, leaving him free to speak with Aether. 

“The researchers asked me to apologize to you on their behalf. They’re all afraid of you,” Aether says, a small smile creeping onto his face. “They’re worried you’ll use your power to enact a harsher punishment, on account of them trying to oust you. You’d think they’d be groveling at your feet in person, in that case.”

“They don’t know you at all!” says Paimon. “Anyone who’s spent any time around you would know you don’t care about that stuff.”

“Have you come to grovel in their place?”

Aether narrows his eyes, unimpressed. “Grand Sage for barely a month, and already expecting me to bow.”

“Only a fool could be so presumptuous. In any case, there’s no need for apologies; I submitted my resignation already,” says Alhaitham. “Siraj could have saved himself the trouble if he had simply waited.”

“As unphased as ever…” Paimon says. “You really had it all handled the whole time, huh? What did you even need us around for?”

“Who else would have been capable of subduing Siraj long enough for the matra to arrive?”

“You dealt the final blow, though?” says Paimon. “And Aether isn’t here to be your personal fixer, you know!”

“I doubt I could persuade him to do anything he didn’t already want to do.”

“I don’t mind,” Aether says, exchanging a glance with him. “It was… nice to see you again. You’ve been a hard man to catch.”

“Yes,” says Alhaitham. “I haven’t had much time for myself lately, but thanks to you I’ve completed my tasks for today well ahead of schedule.”

Paimon does a little dance. “Hehe, that means we should be rewarded, doesn’t it? Oh, oh, what would be an appropriate reward to ask of the almighty Grand Sage?”

“I would think Aether should be the one deciding how he’d like to be compensated.” From the look Aether gives him, there is something he wants, which Alhaitham hazards to guess he’s unwilling to admit in present company. And from that fact, he has an idea what the request might be. “If you have nothing in mind, then you can join me back to the city.”

“Join you? Are you going to treat us to dinner?”

“I suppose you’ll have to see for yourself,” Alhaitham says, and turns to leave.

Aether keeps a steady pace beside him as they make their way back to Sumeru City. He deliberately brushes his hand against Alhaitham’s as they walk, casting secretive glances his way while Paimon babbles on beside them, completely oblivious. If Alhaitham had any doubt about misreading his intentions earlier, the furtive touch of Aether’s hand would easily squash it. 

The peace Alhaitham enjoyed when he last brought Aether home is long gone. Kaveh accosts him the moment he enters, but just as quickly pales when he notices Aether and Paimon. Alhaitham speaks before Kaveh can put his foot in his mouth. “I’ve got a few books on the topic of collectives and the subconscious here at home. They’re in my office. Come; you can take a look.”

“That sounds… complicated,” says Paimon. “Paimon will leave all the reading to you, Aether.”

“You might as well stay here then,” says Aether. “It might take a while. He’s got a big, uh, library.”

“Hey, wait, you’re just going to leave without introducing your guests?” Kaveh protests. “As someone who lives here too, I think I at least have that right!”

Alhaitham sighs. “This is Aether. The floating one is Paimon,” he says. “I mentioned Kaveh to you two previously. Now, am I free to continue my business?”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m forcing you to stay here! You think I’d want to keep you?”

Aether follows Alhaitham to his office. The door barely closes with a click before Alhaitham turns on his heel and presses him against a bookshelf, capturing his lips in one swift movement. Aether melts under him, a moan escaping his lips. He wraps his arms around Alhaitham’s neck, pulling him down even closer, chest to chest. Alhaitham hooks a hand around Aether’s ass, guiding his hips forward until Aether grinds his burgeoning erection against Alhaitham’s thigh. 

Soft sounds escape Aether. He bucks against Alhaitham’s leg, refusing to break the kiss even as the tiniest of gasps escape him. It’s only when they part long enough to catch their breaths that he says, “Paimon, Kaveh– they’re in the other room—”

“I don’t care,” Alhaitham says. “Do you? Privacy didn’t seem to bother you before.”

“Ah…” His breath hitches when Alhaitham’s hands travel down his sides. “It’s your home,” he concedes. 

“And I’ll do what I want in my own home,” Alhaitham says, capturing his lips once again. 

They work hastily, fumbling to free their cocks. It’s becoming a pattern, this desperate need to be as close as possible. Alhaitham separates only to find what he’s looking for in a drawer of his desk; with it, he slicks up his fingers and enters Aether smoothly, drawing out a delighted gasp. One finger becomes two, then three. Aether rocks back desperately against them, mouth falling open, eyes half-lidded. “Alhaitham, I can’t, I need it, please—”

What can Alhaitham do but give Aether what he wants when he begs so beautifully? He flips Aether around and lines up his cock with Aether’s hole, entering him in one smooth thrust. Aether lets out a sharp moan and clutches at the shelves, head bracing against the books. His fingers clench, his knuckles turn white as Alhaitham begins moving. Alhaitham doesn’t bother with the buildup, with letting Aether get used to his girth; he sets a pace and forces Aether to adjust to it. Aether tries his best to muffle the sounds that escape him, but Alhaitham delights in the moments they slip free. 

When a particularly harsh thrust causes the bookshelf to thud against the wall, Aether squeaks and clenches hard around Alhaitham’s cock in surprise. Alhaitham pauses to make sure the books are in place, that they aren’t at risk of falling off the shelves and hurting Aether. The shelves are deep and the tomes heavy, so despite the worrying sound, the books have hardly shifted. 

“What was that?” comes Paimon’s piercing voice. “What are they doing in there that’s taking so long?”

Aether looks over his shoulder at Alhaitham in alarm, hand covering his mouth. Kaveh says something, muffled by the walls. Alhaitham guesses it’s to the effect of not caring what antics Alhaitham must be getting up to in his own office, and not wanting to get involved. Paimon says something in response that gets lost as he resumes fucking into Aether, this time working up from shallow thrusts. Aether has tensed up considerably, his tight hole dragging exquisitely around Alhaitham’s cock, body shuddering underneath him. 

There’s a knock at the door. “Aether? Alhaitham? Are you two okay in there? Do you need help?”

“Fine!” Aether shouts back, voice pitchy as Alhaitham continues thrusting into him. “It’s fine, I just– I tripped on a book! There’s just so much to read in here! No need to come in. Actually, if you want to– to take a walk, or something? Get some food? Because it might be a while.”

“Um, if you say so,” says Paimon. “Paimon will see if Kaveh wants to take a walk too. He seems like he needs some fresh air.”

Some more muffled conversation, the sound of footsteps, the slam of a door, then silence. Aether relaxes, letting out a pent up moan as a sharp thrust hits deep within him. “You– ah– I can’t believe you—”

Another thrust cuts him off. “Yes?” Alhaitham says. 

“Fuck, you’re so good. I can’t believe you did that.” He moves his hips, meeting Alhaitham’s own. His head falls forward, presses against the books. “Harder, harder, please, oh—”

“You like that, don’t you,” Alhaitham murmurs against his ear. “Is it exciting? Knowing someone’s listening on the other side of the wall, that they could walk in any moment and see you take my cock, see what a slut you are.”

“No, I– oh, right there, Alhaitham—”

The shelf rattles against the wall as they pick up their previous pace. Alhaitham fucks him as deep, as hard as Aether will take it. Aether cries out with each thrust, clumsily moving to meet him but soon giving up and simply letting Alhaitham abuse his hole. Soon enough, Aether comes messily over the books, thighs trembling as he finishes, clenching impossibly tighter around Alhaitham. 

Spent, Aether’s legs give way underneath him. Alhaitham wraps his hands around him, catches him before he falls. He pulls out, turns Aether around so that the bookshelf provides support for Aether’s back, and hooks his arms under Aether’s legs to keep him in place. Aether holds desperately onto Alhaitham’s neck to keep himself from falling. Gravity does half the work of lowering Aether onto his cock, down until he’s seated fully on him. Braced between Alhaitham’s chest and the bookshelf, body at Alhaitham’s mercy, Aether can do nothing but tremble and gasp from overstimulation as he’s used. 

Alhaitham releases into him, filling Aether as deep as he can go. Aether goes limp, completely pliant, little more than dead weight in Alhaitham’s arms. 

“I trust that was sufficient compensation for your work.”

Aether makes a vaguely assenting noise, but remains limp. 

“Can you stand?”

“Mm.” Aether’s breath puffs against Alhaitham’s damp skin. “I don’t know… my legs…”

Aether looks thoroughly fucked, hair wild over his head, eyes distant, limbs sagging and skin soaked in sweat. Alhaitham threads his fingers through loose strands of hair, but it fails to make him look any more decent. “Let’s clean up before they return.” 

“Paimon’ll probably be occupied with food for a while,” Aether says, which sounds like reasonable enough time for Alhaitham to carry him into his bathroom and fill up the bath. He sinks into the water, feeling its warmth soothe his muscles. It’s a snug fit for the both of them, legs tangled together as they wash each other off. Alhaitham ends up coaxing Aether to turn around and presses Aether’s back to his chest, drawing out a content sigh. Aether takes Alhaitham’s hands in his own, playing with them and arranging them how he sees fit over his stomach. 

They lie together for a while. Feeling a lazy heat rising, Alhaitham nuzzles Aether’s skin, smoothing his tongue over it and tasting the lingering salt of sweat, grazing his shoulder with his teeth. Aether squirms and gasps. “Alhaitham,” he says, “not– not now. I’m still—”

“You’re always so sensitive,” Alhaitham says, but acquiesces before he can grow hard again. 

Aether resolutely stops squirming and turns the mood to something neutral instead. “I’ll be headed for the desert soon,” he says. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. You won’t burn down Sumeru while I’m gone, will you? No nefarious plots I’ll have to overthrow?”

“If I do, it was probably deserved,” says Alhaitham. 

Aether laughs, then grows quiet. “Maybe I’m being selfish, but… I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else while I’m gone. Or when I’m here, either.”

“Where would I find the time?”

That’s not the right answer. Aether stiffens in his arms. “Right. Never mind. Forget I said that.”

Alhaitham kisses the back of his neck, feeling the embarrassment burning through Aether’s nape beneath his lips. “I have no interest in others. Just you,” he says as he feels Aether melt under his touch. 

“Just me,” Aether says, as if sealing a promise. 

—

They make the most of Aether’s remaining days in the city. No matter how busy Alhaitham is, he finds time to accommodate Aether’s insatiable libido. Not that he minds; like a dog drooling over the smell of meat, even the sight of Aether’s bare midriff is enough to make him hard these days. It’s impressive how much more agreeable work becomes when he can fit an orgasm in between reviewing documents or attending meetings. Any chance alone together, anytime they can, anywhere they can, they take full advantage of it. 

After getting interrupted more than once in Alhaitham’s home by Kaveh—much to everyone's chagrin—the Grand Sage’s chamber quickly becomes their preferred spot, Aether riding Alhaitham in the ostentatiously large chair, or bent over the desk, or against the bookshelves, his cries echoing beautifully throughout the chamber. They don’t have to hold back there, where Alhaitham’s status provides him all the privacy he needs. If his position affords him any perks, it’s this and this alone. 

Now, he has Aether spread over the desk, naked and writhing. Aether comes so hard he ruins a stack of documents and manages to remember to look sheepish about it. “Oops,” he says. “Was that important?”

“Just rejected project proposals,” Alhaitham says as he pulls out. “Nothing important comes by my desk now; most projects are waiting for the Grand Sage to formally be appointed first to avoid getting tied up in unnecessary politics, or hoping the next sage will be more accommodating than I am. I'm simply tying up loose ends now that my tenure is almost over.”

With that, he tosses the sullied papers away, then organizes the remainder of the documents and focuses on what needs to be done today. Aether stretches languidly, joints audibly popping, and hops off the desk. He neglects to put his clothes back on, instead opting to pick up Alhaitham’s cloak from the floor and draping it around his shoulders before settling in the chair with his bare knees drawn up to his chest. He watches Alhaitham work. “Hey, once you’re done with all this, do you want to get dinner together?”

“Where?” asks Alhaitham. 

“Lambad’s?”

“Hm. All right.”

Aether picks a book off Alhaitham’s desk to occupy himself while Alhaitham goes back to work, but soon grows bored and dozes off instead, looking snug yet absolutely dwarfed by Alhaitham’s clothes. He wakes up some time later, horny as ever, and proceeds to suck the life out of Alhaitham’s cock, swallowing it all down with a smug sort of glee. It’s at that point Alhaitham decides to just cut his losses and call it a day. 

They do a passable job of looking presentable before they leave. Aether has to re-braid his hair, and presently there’s nothing they can do about the marks on his neck or the strange and unfortunately conspicuous stains on Alhaitham’s cloak, so he simply carries it with him. It’s also hard to mistake Aether’s distinct afterglow, the way getting fucked seems to loosen his body in all the right ways, though a passerby might confuse it for his natural radiance. They earn a few stares and even more whispers as they leave the House of Daena together, which is inevitable; the Traveler and the Acting Grand Sage are bound to raise some questions. 

Lambad, however, is familiar with discretion when needed of him, ushering them to a quiet corner on the second floor of the tavern. Dinner conversation flits between subjects: Aether recounts various interesting commissions he’s taken recently and one bothersome man who keeps getting into trouble with the local fungi purely of his own doing; after which Alhaitham details his own experiences with a persistent student who won’t stop accosting him on the street thinking she might gain his favor, completely oblivious to the fact that he’ll formally step down from his position in a few days and none of her bootlicking will matter anyhow. From there it transitions somehow into the current state of Sumeran politics and the upcoming transfer of power, and then turns towards Aether’s own influence on the sociopolitical landscape. 

“You said you fought a god once,” Alhaitham says. 

Aether tilts his head, pausing halfway through stuffing a fish roll in his mouth. “Did I say that?” 

“You mentioned it the night before we rescued Lesser Lord Kusanali. It caught my attention. I’d heard the stories, but they always seemed exaggerated.”

“Most stories become exaggerated over time, but usually they’re born from truth. What exactly did you hear?”

Stories about adventure and courage meant to spark the imagination and invoke a sense of awe do little for Alhaitham; even as a child, he preferred books on theory over fairy tales. Long before Aether showed up in his periphery at Port Ormos, he’d heard stories of his deeds, whether through reports filtering through his desk or word on the street. They hadn’t mattered to him until he met the famed Traveler himself and suddenly the stories had a face. “They said you selflessly spearheaded the resistance and led them to victory against the tyrannical archon and her hunt. That you fought Inazuma’s god in single combat and blocked her killing blow in a show of power so impressive it made her see the error of her ways.”

“The Musou no Hitotachi,” Aether murmurs. “No, that wasn’t me. And I was just a commander with the resistance army for a brief time, since I had nowhere else to turn. It’s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart. But I did fight Ei, though getting her to come around was more of a group effort.”

“Hm. Then how much truth is there to the story that you single-handedly slayed an ancient dragon to save Mondstadt?”

Aether looks vaguely horrified. “It’s not dead.”

“I assume the story that you prevented the destruction of Liyue Harbor by stopping a tidal wave and wrestling a leviathan is greatly exaggerated as well.”

“Uh… wow, yeah. People say that? I’m not sure why the stories are so insistent on putting me in the sole hero of everything. Next thing I know, they’re going to be saying I rescued Nahida alone and took out the Balladeer with my bare hands.” Aether chews his fish roll for a long moment, swallowing before admitting, “I didn’t think you’d be so interested in me.”

“You don’t think I spend time with you simply because you’re pretty, do you?”

“The reasons seemed pretty self-evident.”

“You always undersell yourself,” says Alhaitham. “Where scholars like to sit around and debate hypotheticals without ever bothering to lift a finger, you actually put your words into action. You’ve performed feats sages couldn’t even dream of. Why wouldn’t you interest me, when you’re so unlike anyone I’ve ever met?”

Aether looks genuinely flustered for a moment, and the sight of his reddening face feels more satisfying than any debate Alhaitham has ever won. 

It’s nearly sunset when they leave the tavern, the sky just starting to bleed pink. Satiated and with nowhere in particular to be, they stroll leisurely through the city, pausing at whatever stall catches Aether’s eye. He must have passed by them dozens of times before, but still he peruses book stalls, trinket shops, various curios with a sort of single-minded intent, until he finally stops at a flower stand. 

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Alhaitham says. “What do you need flowers for?”

“They’ll look nice in your home. What do you think? Red will complement the green decor. Yellow will feel more lively and fresh, though.”

Bemused, Alhaitham says, “You’re buying me flowers?”

“Think of it as something to remember me by while I’m away,” Aether says. “When you see these flowers, when you smell them, you’ll think of me.”

“I don’t need flowers for that.”

“Oh, uh, wow, if I didn’t know any better that might have made me swoon,” Aether says. He clears his throat. “Anyways. Did you know flowers have a language of their own?”

“I might have heard something to that effect, yes, but I’ve never put much thought into it.”

“I guess the Haravatat wouldn’t consider it one worth learning.” He points to a Sumeru rose. “The purple of this rose symbolizes love at first sight. The deeper the color, the more intense the affection. The Nilotpata lotus signifies purity and rebirth; Mondstadt’s cecilias are similar, but with more emphasis on strength. Or so they say. In the end, language can be interpreted in so many ways.”

Surprised by the depth of Aether’s knowledge, Alhaitham has him explain a few more of the flowers on display. As far as languages go, it’s not exactly complicated, but there’s a nuance to each flower. In the end, the florist puts together an arrangement reminiscent of the gold of Aether’s hair, which he pieces together to mean joy, friendship, hope. 

Alhaitham’s student-turned-stalker manages to catch them as they turn to leave; Aether nearly bumps into her as he steps away, squeaking out an, “Oh! Sorry!” as he sidesteps her. Alhaitham reaches an arm out around his shoulders to pull him closer. She stares at the flowers in his arms, the casual proximity between him and Alhaitham, Alhaitham’s protective hand around him, and turns an indignant shade of red before turning and leaving without a word. 

“That was… weird. Does that happen to you often?”

“That’s her—the woman I mentioned over dinner,” Alhaitham says. 

Aether blinks, then looks towards the direction the student ran off to. “You said she was causing you inconvenience, but you didn’t think to tell me she was trying to pursue you!” He bursts into a fit of laughter, nearly crumpling the bouquet as his body shakes. “Surely you could have just rejected her.”

“You think I didn’t try? I can’t even fathom how she got admitted into the Akademiya when she fails to understand the word no.”

“I think you don’t normally have trouble telling people off,” Aether says. “You think she got the message this time, or should we be a bit more obvious?”

“What do you propose?”

Grinning, Aether links his free arm around Alhaitham’s, pressing himself against flush Alhaitham’s side. “Is this okay?”

Were it anyone else, the answer would be a resounding no. But the warmth of Aether’s body pressing up against him, his subtle scent mixed with the fragrance of fresh flowers—he finds he doesn’t mind. 

Dusk settles upon the city. Street lamps flicker on, casting the street in a warm glow. Together, they walk towards Alhaitham’s home. 

— 

Alhaitham resigns with little fanfare; he simply wraps up the work day, waves goodbye to Panah, who blinks at him, and walks out the chamber. 

Kaveh insists on a celebration for his demotion, which Alhaitham agrees to on the grounds that, as the organizer, Kaveh will pay. After a significant amount of protest on Kaveh’s part and a blooming headache on Alhaitham’s, they manage to come to an agreement on the added condition that Alhaitham need not be involved in any aspect of planning or even concern himself with any details at all except for the time and the place, because, “I can’t put it past you not to interfere or try to sabotage me, so the less you know, the better.”

Despite their strained relationship, Kaveh carries out his planning dutifully; his pride won’t allow any less than perfection. It’s one of the things Alhaitham still respects him for after their falling out. Most Akademiya scholars are some mix of prideful and perfectionist, but Kaveh is one of the few who can actually carry through, even if it seems to land him in trouble more often than not. 

“Ah, the man of the hour, here at last,” he says as Alhaitham enters the tavern. “How does it feel to stand amongst the rabble once more?”

“I need a drink,” Alhaitham says. 

Unfortunately, that gives Kaveh a reason to gather everyone present for a toast to him, to “Returning to a position more befitting of his stature.” Everyone Alhaitham might consider a passing acquaintance seems to be crowded into the tavern, save for the glaring exception of Aether, and he has to wonder if Kaveh simply sent out invitations to the entirety of Sumeru until anyone on reasonably civil terms with Alhaitham agreed to come, all for the sake of padding the guest list. How unfortunate, that such attendance must have ballooned Kaveh’s costs considerably. 

Even more unfortunate is how he’s forced to field pleasantries from people he considers himself on no more than polite terms with, though there’s a common thread of confusion over whether or not resigning from the highest position in Sumeru should be grounds to congratulate someone in the first place. He simply brushes them off and joins the fringes of a conversation with Cyno, Tighnari, and Collei, taking the empty table next to them and managing to look just occupied enough to not be approached. 

The conversation turns inevitably into a round of cards. Alhaitham spectates over his wine. Maybe too much wine: he’s soon convinced to join for a round against Tighnari, which then becomes a round against Cyno who decides to test Alhaitham’s prowess for himself. Alhaitham wins the first game, but Cyno goads him into a second. He bows out before the Cyno can insist on best three out of five, in case it somehow becomes best five out of seven, and so on. 

He returns to the adjacent table to make room for the next match as Tighnari subs in. The bench creaks as someone sits next to him, and he’s halfway through biting out a rebuke before he sees just who it is and the words die forgotten in his throat. 

“Hey,” says Aether. “Miss me?”

He looks like he stepped out of a dream. He looks so golden, eyes gleaming in the tavern light, hair like spun stars. Time spent under the desert sun left his skin with a soft glow, that Alhaitham might reach out and feel the heat radiating from it. Alhaitham is overcome with the urge to kiss him. The desire is mutual; Aether meets him midway for a peck. He offers a shy smile when Alhaitham draws back and drapes an arm over the back of the bench. 

“I didn’t realize you were back in the city,” Alhaitham says. 

“I just returned,” says Aether. He reaches over for Alhaitham’s drink, bringing it to his lips. “Cyno tracked us down in the desert and invited me and Paimon. Said my presence was required, but I wouldn’t have missed it either way.”

The gesture surprises him. One might even consider it a favor for a friend. He glances over at Cyno, who’s engrossed in his match against Tighnari. “How was your trip?” he asks as he steals his drink back. 

“I’ll be glad to never have to set foot in the desert ever again,” Aether says with a shake of his head. “Everything out there seems all too keen on killing me, and I’ve had enough sand up every crevice of my body to fill my own beach. And isn’t it strange how fond the ancient desert folk were of their obtuse puzzle mechanisms?” He huffs. “Still, it was nice to see some old friends again, and it was an… interesting experience. I imagine I could write my own academic paper on the stuff I’ve found in my travels instead of doing all the hard work only to end up as a footnote in someone else’s research.”

Alhaitham hums. “If I were still the Grand Sage, I could have approved your funding. Allocated as much as you wished for. I'm sure it would have been a more worthwhile pursuit than anything else that came across my desk.”

“Oh? It’s a shame. What use is a lover if I can’t leverage his power and influence for my own gain?”

“And here I thought you wanted me for my beauty and wit,” Alhaitham says dryly. 

“Among other things, of course,” says Aether, eyes darting down pointedly. 

Alhaitham snorts. “You’re a little minx.”

“You like that about me.”

“Among other things,” Alhaitham echoes. “Tell me about the desert.”

“It’s a long story; I hardly want to be accused of hogging all of your attention at your own party. There are… a lot more people than I expected tonight.”

“If it’s my party, only my opinion matters, and we both know I don’t care what others think.”

Aether steals Alhaitham’s drink once more, tilting his head back to capture the last few drops. “We’re going to need another drink for this, then.”

Lambad refills the wine. Aether starts recounting his journey in the desert, having to backtrack every once in a while to fill him in on other details. His eyes light up, his hands animate. He’s fascinating to watch. Idly, Alhaitham finds his fingers threading through Aether’s hair as he listens, like spun silk under the pads of his fingers, pleased when his touch elicits a shudder. 

“Hey, hey, I see you two making eyes at each other,” comes Kaveh’s voice. He sits across from them, plucking an Ajilenakh cake from a plate and leveling them with a glare. “No funny business is allowed tonight, got it? I couldn’t in good conscience subject the good people of this tavern to the sights I’ve been forced to see with my own two eyes.”

Aether sounds genuinely apologetic as he says, “Sorry. No funny business.” 

“Good to hear. Now, I don’t know much about you, Traveler, but I’ve heard good things, so I trust you won’t cause any trouble.”

Aether laughs. “I’ve heard about you too. You designed the Palace of Alcazarzaray, right? It’s a beautiful place; your work is really impressive.”

Kaveh’s eyes immediately light up. “You have, have you? Well, not that it’s unexpected, of course, but it’s rare to find someone with a true appreciation for aesthetics.”

“I don’t get it, though; if your work is that good, I don’t understand why you need to live with Alhaitham.”

“The world is truly unjust, isn’t it? Leaving me saddled with debt and with no one to turn to except Alhaitham, all while landing opportunities of every kind right in his lap. It’s enough to make one lose hope of any justice in this world, you know. I’ve resorted to picking up any contract I can just to keep myself afloat, and when you’re stooping that low, nothing you create feels right.” 

“That, um, sounds rough.”

“You have no idea.” Kaveh takes a deep swig of his drink, only to continue on with a gloomy look, “I thought I might take a trip out to the desert—a change in scenery to find some creative inspiration, perhaps—but the only thing I found out there was sand! What a senseless waste of time and money that was.”

“If you’re in need of inspiration, maybe you should try traveling outside of Sumeru for a while,” Aether says, exchanging a sidelong glance with Alhaitham. “Liyue has some beautiful architecture, unique and full of history. Inazuma, too, is worth a trip now that its borders are open.”

“That’s not a bad idea…” Kaveh raises his hand to his chin. “You know, Aether, I didn’t think much of you at first, given the company you choose to keep, but it seems you’re a great deal more reasonable than this guy.”

“It’s a testament to your lack of self-preservation that you continue to live under this guy’s roof while insulting him in the same breath,” says Alhaitham. 

“You know what, moving to Liyue for a while is sounding more and more like a fantastic idea,” says Kaveh. “I won’t have to see your face, or deal with your abuse, or–” He gasps, loud enough to catch the attention of the table beside them. “Oh, I see what this is! Your trickery won’t fool me! You two are trying to get me out of the house so that you can fuck all over the place like the animals you are, aren’t you? Aether, I was truly beginning to feel a budding connection with you as a fellow appreciator of the arts, but I should have known you would be as devious as Alhaitham!”

“Well, I tried,” Aether says to Alhaitham. 

They end up taking Kaveh’s drink away when it’s clear more alcohol won’t do him any favors, and have to drag him back home after the party on top of that. Alhaitham leaves him half-sitting on one of the divans, where he waggles an accusatory finger at the both of them, slurs, “No funny business,” and then promptly falls onto the cushions and closes his eyes. 

No funny business turns into making out in Alhaitham’s bed, slow and soft and not at all hurried; Alhaitham’s not feeling entirely sober himself, at least not enough to get himself hard all the way, and Aether seems content to just hold him as they explore each other’s mouths. That’s how they fall asleep: Aether in his arms, being held by him in turn, close enough to feel soft breaths ghosting his skin. 

—

Aether stays the night after that, and the next night, and so on, until it only feels natural to fall asleep together. They rarely wake together, though; Aether gets out of bed earlier than the crows, whether to spend the morning taking care of commissions or go about helping whomever’s booked his attention for the day, or simply to cook breakfast. Alhaitham especially enjoys the latter, the mornings where he walks sleepily out of his room and finds Aether busy in the kitchen in nothing but Alhaitham’s shirt over underwear that leaves little to the imagination, the sight of which never fails to wake him up.

Alhaitham sneaks his hand between Aether’s ass, pleased at the pitched inhale that rewards him when his finger prods at Aether’s entrance. “Alhaith– ah—” Aether gasps as it slips in, so easily, his hole still stretched and slick from the previous night. “Wait, it’s going to burn—”

“Then let’s be quick,” Alhaitham says, pulling Aether’s underwear down his thighs and sliding his cock in, and Aether moans, protests dying on his tongue as he rocks back against Alhaitham’s cock. 

He’s so loose it drives him mad. The Akademiya might banish him to the desert if they saw him now, so utterly devoid of any rationality as the world narrows down to how good Aether feels around him and how badly he wants to fuck him senseless. But he makes good on his word: he digs his fingers into Aether’s hips as he drives his cock in, over and over, harsh and fast and merciless, and all Aether can do is hang on, crying out as he desperately clings to the countertop. They both come without much buildup, Alhaitham holding Aether to his chest and biting down on his shoulder as he rides his orgasm out.

The food ends up mildly burnt, but still edible if they scrape the char off. Aether laughs deliriously. “That was probably dangerous and really unsanitary.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t already swallowed before.”

Aether rolls his eyes, but doesn’t complain when Alhaitham spreads him across one of the divans and cleans him out with his tongue after breakfast, nor when he comes up for a sloppy kiss. 

They spend a lazy day fucking. Mid-afternoon, as the sun filters through the stained glass windows and basks the room in a warm kaleidoscope of greens and yellows, Aether naps against Alhaitham’s chest while Alhaitham passes the time with some light reading. Their position is not exactly comfortable, with Aether’s limbs wrapped around him like he’s an overly fleshy pillow, but his face looks so relaxed Alhaitham can’t bear to move lest he wake him. 

An hour passes before Aether stirs again, making his waking known as he shifts his hips experimentally. “You’re still inside of me,” he mumbles in a dazed voice, moving now with more intent as lucidity returns to him. 

“That’s how you like it, isn’t it?” Alhaitham says, using his free hand to hold his waist. “You’d sit on me all day if you could, let yourself be used as nothing more than a body to warm my cock.”

“Mmh. Yes,” Aether says, eyes rolling back as he hits just the right angle. He rides Alhaitham slowly, savoring how deep Alhaitham reaches inside him, ass squeezing perfectly around him. Hands claw into Alhaitham’s shoulders, teeth scrape at his neck, clenching down hard as Aether comes. 

It’s a few more minutes before Aether pulls off, groaning as he feels Alhaitham’s soft cock slip free. “I’m sore,” he complains as he stretches, arms reaching high above his head. A wide yawn escapes him; he blinks and rubs the wetness around his eyes away, then plops himself onto Alhaitham’s knees to check the cover of the book in Alhaitham’s hand. “You’re reading Rex Incognito?”

“Is something wrong with that?”

“Of course not, but it’s a bit pedestrian, isn’t it? I thought you enjoyed… abstruse works, as you called it.”

“There’s something to be gained even in fantastical stories like this: a hint of history and culture that can be gleaned from the way the author communicates and presents the world to the reader,” Alhaitham says. “The simplicity of the text is offset by the intricacies of the Liyue script. An easy language to learn, but difficult to master, so one must take care not to grow complacent when studying.”

“Oh, right. You said students should master twenty languages before graduating. Knowing you, it was impossible to tell if you were joking or not.”

“It's a saying among the Haravatat, to encourage the excellence of its students; most manage ten or so,” says Alhaitham. “However, I am fluent in twenty languages.”

Most would find Alhaitham unbearably arrogant for simply speaking the truth, but Aether only smiles serenely. “I know a few languages myself. Some you’ve never heard of. You think I would have done well in your darshan?”

“I’m sure you would be successful in whatever darshan you chose,” Alhaitham says. “But you’ve piqued my curiosity; while I’ve mastered twenty languages, I’ve studied even more. To claim you know one I’ve never heard of is a challenge.”

A noise that sounds like the twinkling of a night star spills from Aether’s lips. “That’s the name of my native tongue,” he says. “I think only my sister and I speak it now.”

“Say something else.”

Another word, this time evoking the chaotic entropy of the cosmos. “That means ‘knowledge’—as vast and limitless as the universe,” he says. “Wisdom,” as he demonstrates, is similar, but calmer. More restrained. He’s never heard anything like it. So beautiful and otherworldly, a language that seems to originate from beyond the stars. And Aether, too—it was clear from the beginning there was something else about him, something that makes him beyond comprehension, so human and yet not. 

Aether tries to teach him some phrases, but the words never seem to come out quite right from Alhaitham’s mouth. It’s not for lack of trying; he simply seems to be missing the parts for it, whether muscle or organ or some other biology. The sound that travels through his ears, through his lungs, out his mouth gets distorted midway, as if lost in translation. 

The last word he says is indescribable, even with all the vocabulary at Alhaitham’s arsenal. Alhaitham is not a man who waxes poetic, who conjures up vivid metaphors and flowery sentiment, all empty and meaningless. Such things never held value to him. But now, as he comes up short of ways to describe the sound, he finds this fact almost regrettable. “Love,” Aether explains. “There’s a myth where I come from that it was the first word to exist. That before the beginning of life, two stars fell in love, and, unable to resist each other's pull, orbited closer and closer until they collided and became one.”

“For what I assume is supposed to be a romantic story, it seems rather grim.”

“Yeah.” Aether smiles, but his eyes turn forlorn. “I used to believe it. I used to think me and my sister…” He shakes his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter; we’re walking separate paths now. It’s been a long time since I thought about it.”

Feeling the drop in Aether’s mood, Alhaitham puts down his book, cups Aether’s face, and kisses him softly. Even if Aether holds the truth of his existence and the depth of his past close to his chest, when it comes to this he opens up readily to Alhaitham; this, Alhaitham contents himself with for now. 

Aether says something in his cosmic tongue as he pulls away, which Alhaitham manages to guess the meaning of before he elaborates, “That means fuck me,” and Alhaitham can do nothing but comply, worshiping every inch of Aether’s body in vain hope of drawing more stars from his lips. 

—

They settle into a comfortable routine: no matter if Aether is gone by the time Alhaitham wakes up, if Aether is around to kiss Alhaitham goodbye, or if they spend the entire day apart, they always return home to each other in the evening. On days where neither of them have any work, they might run errands together or simply lounge around or fuck. When Aether returns to Liyue for a week, his absence is felt. The bed feels colder and emptier. Alhaitham never thought he would ever enjoy living with someone else, let alone desire their presence in the quiet moments of the evening, but Aether is—different. 

Perhaps the most unexpected and certainly the most baffling part of Aether’s cohabitation is how well he ends up getting along with Kaveh. On more than one occasion Alhaitham comes home to find the two mid-conversation or playing cards or just drinking together. Today he wakes to Aether fully dressed, sipping coffee in the sitting room, casually chatting. “Morning,” Aether says with a vibrant grin, pulling Alhaitham down by the collar to peck him on the lips. 

“Awake at last, I see,” Kaveh says. “In the time it took you to roll out of bed, we’ve already finished our errands for the day.”

“We went to the market earlier,” Aether explains. “Kaveh’s got a good eye for flowers. Not so much for shopkeepers trying to fleece him of all of his mora.”

Kaveh clutches his chest. “Is it so wrong to want to care for the orphans? The world is a cruel place, to mercilessly take advantage of a bleeding heart like mine.”

A fresh arrangement of pink and lilac and white sits in a tall vase at the center of the coffee table. The one Aether bought before has long wilted; Alhaitham left the flowers in his office until they started to shrivel up and dry, at which point he reluctantly conceded their decorational value had passed. Aether has since taken it upon himself to keep a steady supply in the house, while also taking the liberty of adding his own touches to Alhaitham’s home. He leaves trinkets from his adventures around like a cat with its latest catch: various books he found in some eremite’s tent; some trinket he received while fulfilling requests; or a rare local specialty he found on a perilous cliff or somewhere equally inconvenient. 

Alhaitham sees no use in such things, but nevertheless finds his home filling up with them, these little parts of Aether’s life. So too does he find Aether’s more practical belongings taking up his space: his spare clothing, his toiletries, and even some furniture Aether found lacking in Alhaitham’s home and thought fit to transport from his own realm, as natural as if it always belonged there. 

“By the way, did you know Aether is a skilled haggler? You should have seen how he nearly scammed that unscrupulous old man right back,” Kaveh says. “I simply must have him accompany me any time I go to the market. He’ll help me save a fortune on my supplies. You’ll be free this weekend, won’t you, Aether?”

“Sure, I’ll make time for you,” says Aether, and Alhaitham finds himself momentarily knocked off-kilter by a flash of irritation, which fails to reign itself in as Aether polishes off the last of his coffee and says, “Anyways, I agreed to help this guy with his research on some ley line or other, I didn’t bother too much with the specifics—after you get a few of these requests they all start sounding the same—so I won’t be back until tonight.”

“Will you be home for dinner?” Alhaitham asks. 

“Hmm… depends on whether you’re treating.”

“I’ll make something.”

Alhaitham feels Kaveh’s gaze boring into his back as he sees Aether out the door a few minutes later. It prickles at the nape of his neck, questioning and insistent. He turns and crosses his arms, only for Kaveh to pointedly look away. 

“You look like you want to say something,” Alhaitham says. “Just spit it out already.”

Kaveh fidgets at being called out, and then lets out a long exhale. “Are you and Aether– ugh, no, forget it. I don’t want to know any more details about your love life than I already do. If you’re even capable of human emotion profound enough to be considered love.”

“What drivel are you spewing now?”

“See, this is why! If you can’t even treat the person you live with—me—with an ounce of civility, I can hardly imagine any romantic endeavor of yours lasting long, much less ending well. It’s a miracle a guy as kind as Aether has put up with you this long.” Kaveh huffs, crossing his own arms. “He’s a saint, really. I can’t imagine what he sees in you, but for some reason he likes you. Can you believe it? I doubt you even realize what a good thing you’ve got going for you, and yet you’re absolutely going to mess things up, by virtue of being your own damn self.”

“Since when did you become so concerned about my life?”

“I’m not. I’m concerned that you’re going to do what you always do, and hurt someone else in the process. It’s what you do best,” says Kaveh. “And Aether deserves better than that.”

“I didn’t realize the two of you were so close. What, are you fucking him too?”

Kaveh lets out a frustrated noise. “You– I just– I can’t talk to you! For someone who’s so smart, you’re thicker than a congealed slime, and even harder to hold a conversation with.”

“Your concern is noted,” says Alhaitham, “but this is also none of your business.”

“Fine. Fine!” Kaveh throws his hands up. “Silly me, wanting to look out for a friend. I’m just telling you, if you’re just using Aether to get your dick wet, you better break things off with him now, before you hurt him.”

He stomps out of the room, leaving Alhaitham to simmer in the rest of his irritation alone. If being chastised by Kaveh about his personal relationships wasn’t enough—as he prepares dinner in anticipation of Aether’s return, finding himself lost in absent thoughts of how Aether might smile as he takes his first bite or how his hands might gesture animatedly as he recounts his day—he can’t help but be doubly irritated at the implication that the depth of his affection towards Aether has somehow been weighed and deemed to be lacking. 

“Kaveh said what?” Aether says when Alhaitham recounts the conversation, his eyes widening in horror. “Oh no, Alhaitham, I’m sorry. He’s convinced himself that you and I are dating, even though I’ve told him—”

“Are we not?” says Alhaitham.

“—we’re just… what?”

“Does our relationship not fulfill the basic requisites to be considered dating?” Alhaitham says. “We sleep together, both literally and figuratively, and have agreed to do so exclusively. We spend time together, and I enjoy your company. You’ve moved into my home in all but name. These, among others, are all facets of a committed relationship. Ergo, are we not dating?”

Aether blinks slowly. Then he laughs. “Did you just say ‘ergo’ like you were presenting some kind of thesis?”

“You’re deflecting. Does it make you uncomfortable to define our relationship this way?”

“Um, no, not exactly,” Aether says. “But I was under the impression that you would be. That this was… purely physical on your part. You’re not exactly the type to care about relationships.”

“No,” Alhaitham agrees, “but regardless, I think we’ve passed that point already.”

“Yeah, but dating…”

“You called us lovers before. How is that much different? It’s just semantics. We could sit here and debate over words, but it doesn’t matter which one we choose to define our relationship when the underlying reality remains the same.”

“It does matter, though. Labels affect how we perceive things.” Aether purses his lips. “It makes us sound so much more serious.”

“And you are opposed to that.”

“It’s not that. I don’t know how long serious would last; I don’t plan to stay in Sumeru forever. As much as I– I’ve enjoyed being with you, I have to continue on with my journey at some point.”

“Then so be it,” Alhaitham says. “I fail to see how that changes the present situation.”

Aether opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it. “So be it,” he repeats to himself, sounding almost amazed. He laughs. “You don’t know how long I was thinking about this. I really… I don’t know, I guess I thought it would be more complicated than that.”

“Aether,” Alhaitham says, prompting Aether to meet his eyes. He reaches out to trace the lines of Aether’s chin, his jaw, his cheek. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. What we have now—it doesn’t have to be anything more if you don’t want it to be. If you think you’ll regret it, we can end it here.”

“No,” Aether says immediately. He closes his eyes, tilting his head just so into Alhaitham’s touch. He inhales shakily and says, “I want it. I want it so much. Being with you, waking up next to you—it’s not enough. Maybe I’m selfish, to still want more, to want to be yours even if one day I’ll have to leave.”

“Then be mine.” Alhaitham leans in closer, trailing his hand down lower. He kisses the skin it leaves in its wake, sucking bruises onto his neck. “If you’re selfish, then I’ll be jealous. I want to let the world know that you’re mine.”

—

Today, the bouquet is red. Alhaitham picks a rose from the assortment, drinking in the scent of it and imagining Aether’s face as he picked out the flowers, the angle his eyebrows might have furrowed as he debated the exact message he wanted to convey through his flower language. This is how Kaveh finds him moments later; he looks at Alhaitham, then at the rose, then back at Alhaitham. “You’re making these—moony eyes at a flower. Who are you and what have you done to Alhaitham?”

Alhaitham’s expression immediately twists into a scowl. “Don’t you have anything better to do than pester me?”

“I think it’s only appropriate to be concerned when there’s an alien standing in the living room!”

“Don’t be dramatic; I’m just looking at a flower,” Alhaitham says. “Are you free today? Of course you are. I'd like to get something for Aether and could use a second opinion.”

Kaveh’s mouth hangs open. “You’re inviting me? To join you? Willingly?”

“Well if you’d prefer to stand there and gawk at me instead, I’ll rescind the offer.”

“Wait, no! We both know you can’t be trusted with tasks like this. I’ll be free this afternoon, and I won’t hear a word of complaint from you about it.”

Alhaitham snorts. “Very well; I’ll meet you on Treasures Street.”

Kaveh stares at him as if he expects something else—a pointed insult, or some argument perhaps—but when a long moment passes and nothing comes, he says, “I can’t believe it. You actually like him.”

“Yes,” Alhaitham says, simply. 

Kaveh shakes his head, mumbles something to himself, and leaves without further comment. 

Alhaitham sets the rose back in the vase and heads to the kitchen. On the table sits a modest spread of dishes; to the side, a note. It reads, in looping Sumeran script: Happy birthday! I wish I could be there in person to say it when you wake up, but I hope you’ll take breakfast as an apology. I made your favorites! punctuated by a scribbled heart. A small doodle of Aether and Paimon decorates the corner followed by, P.S. Don't forget Nilou invited us to the Grand Bazaar tonight to celebrate!

Its sincerity draws an amused smile from him. He folds the note into his pocket and pulls out a chair. Breakfast passes slowly, quietly, enjoyed alongside a book he borrowed from the Akademiya. Afternoon comes and goes more eventfully, bickering on the street with Kaveh over the best gift for Aether. Come evening, he makes his way to the Grand Bazaar. 

It’s strange to see the theater decorated for him. Alhaitham feels no particular attachment towards his own day of birth; normally it passes without fuss, if he even remembers it at all. The last time anyone celebrated it was the last year his grandmother was alive. It had just been him and her. She was all he had, up to that point. Her gift had been a thick textbook on semiotics he still keeps in his office today; he’s since inherited her entire library, but kept that book in particular in her honor. 

Aether is there already with Paimon, talking to Nilou, but he waves Alhaitham over as soon as he sees him. “Happy birthday!” he says, running up to meet him halfway for an embrace. He places a kiss on Alhaitham’s cheek. “You’re a little early.”

“I was at the market with Kaveh; I got you something,” Alhaitham says, handing him the small, wrapped box. 

“What, me?” Surprise overtakes Aether’s face, then a smile. “Thank you. Though I never understood why everyone in Teyvat insists on gifting me on their birthday. It’s your day.”

“I was simply thinking of you,” says Alhaitham. “I imagine you’re often on the minds of many others as well.”

“Hm,” says Aether, not denying it. Alhaitham would be a fool to not realize the trail of admirers he’s left behind on his travels—some within the very walls of the city, maybe even the bazaar. “But at the end of the day, you’re the only one on mine.”

There’s no way Aether could have predicted the effect of his words, the warmth that travels through Alhaitham at the admission. Neither could Alhaitham; the feeling leaves him distinctly off-balance as it passes through his chest. It’s not unpleasant. 

Aether unwraps the gift gingerly, then opens the box. Inside is an earring, a dangle of sparkling, solid gold. The inlaid gem shines a brilliant green, matching the one Alhaitham wears on his chest. He saw it displayed at Menakeri’s, imagined it hanging from Aether’s ear, and immediately bought it. It was only by the grace of his former position as Grand Sage that Khalid was even remotely inclined to sell part of his personal collection to him, and even then he’d needed further persuasion and enough mora to make Kaveh look faintly ill.

“Help me put it on?” Aether asks. 

Alhaitham carefully helps remove Aether’s jewelry, replacing it with his own. His fingers trace Aether’s earlobe, toying with the earring. It glimmers, its cut surface catching the light at every angle, looking every bit as lovely on Aether as he had imagined. The sight of it coils hot in his gut. 

“Do I look good?”

“Of course,” Alhaitham says, still playing with his ear. 

Aether grins. “I’ve got something for you too. But you have to wait until later; I left it at home, and you’ve a celebration to attend first.”

Despite the venue, the party is intimate; only the group formed during the rescue of Lesser Lord Kusanali is in attendance. They’re an eccentric bunch, almost like the setup for a joke: a traveler and his floating companion, a scribe, a dancer, a mercenary, and a matra walk into a bazaar. The rest is history. 

Food flows, then the drinks. He suffers through a round of singing when Aether brings out a cake, only mollified by the fact that Cyno looks equally miserable. Then the gifts, of which Alhaitham is surprised to receive any. Receiving gifts obligates him to reciprocate, and he never had the patience for social conventions. But, he supposes, things have changed of late. Not even a few months ago, he didn’t know enough people he considered friends to count off the fingers of one hand, let alone attend a celebration in his honor. He didn’t care, either. Now, even Lesser Lord Kusanali stops by briefly to congratulate him, wishing him success on his future endeavors, and, somewhat disturbingly, his love life. 

“I think she just gave us her blessing,” Aether says, looking faintly mortified.

The absurdity of the situation makes Alhaitham laugh. Surrounded by friends on his birthday, being the center of attention, having his relationship blessed by a god—it’s absurd. He couldn’t have imagined a scene like this before Aether came into his life. Aether’s eyes widen, and it occurs to Alhaitham this is the first time in a long time that he has laughed. Not the brief, derisive chuckles he usually lets out, but a full-bellied laugh punched straight from his gut. 

After a moment, Aether joins him, his twinkling laughter filling the space between them, eyes creasing into crescents. His earring sparkles in the light. Time slows to a singular point. Alhaitham thinks he might remember this moment with vivid clarity for the rest of his life. 

The night slowly winds down from there. Graced by the presence of an archon, laughter filling the air, it ends on a high note. Goodbyes spill past the bazaar, onto the street. They part ways until only Aether and Alhaitham are left. Lamplight frames Aether in a golden halo; he looks unreal, almost ethereal as he holds out his hand, smiling so beautifully Alhaitham can’t bear to look away. 

Alhaitham takes his hand, and lets Aether lead him home.