Chapter Text
The first thing Alhaitham sees when he wakes up is golden hair.
As his vision clears, he notices how the golden locks turn bronze at the ends, how their signature red clips and feather are absent. He brushes a few framing pieces out of the way and catches a glimpse of soft eyebrows and long eyelashes. Every morning, he wakes up to the same sight, and yet he can’t get enough of it.
The eyelashes flutter open, revealing carmine irises. Bleary from sleep, Kaveh blinks and tilts his head to meet Alhaitham’s gaze. His cheek remains pressed against Alhaitham’s chest.
“You’re up early,” Kaveh mumbles, his voice raspy and deep.
“Mm.” He plays with the baby strands at Kaveh’s nape. Alhaitham loves his hair, just as he loves every part of him.
After all these years, his feelings remain unchanged. He remembers how his heart raced uncontrollably every time Kaveh grabbed his hand unthinkingly back when they were students. He can’t forget the heartbreaking despair that erupted in his chest when Kaveh tore their thesis, which now seems so insignificant, apart. Burnt into his mind are Kaveh’s first steps back into his life: the times they squabbled over petty disagreements, the times he held his hair back as he threw up in the bathroom after each alcoholic relapse, the times when he thought Kaveh might walk out for good again. He also remembers the first time Kaveh said, “I love you,” an accident that changed the trajectory of their relationship. He remembers picking out rings and organizing their ceremony, together every step of the way. His heart has always been Kaveh’s through everything.
He’s in awe of how much they’ve been through together. After everything, he’s sure that they can face any problem that comes their way, hand in hand.
Kaveh shifts in his hold then stops. He smirks. “It seems like someone else is up early too,” he teases. He palms the erection. “Excited to see me?”
Alhaitham swallows. “Nocturnal penile tumescence,” he says, dismissive. “Rapid eye movement sleep stops the suppression of neurons that activate testosterone. Hence, the erection.”
“Oh? Is that so?” says Kaveh cheekily as he grinds their lower halves together. Alhaitham releases a breathy moan. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”
Alhaitham cups Kaveh’s cheek and brings his face closer as Kaveh climbs fully on top of him. “What’s got you so worked up? Was last night,” he chokes out another sound from the friction, “not enough?” He rubs the reddish-brown spots along Kaveh’s neck and chest in admiration. Everyone knows that Kaveh is a damn good artist, but only Alhaitham knows what a beautiful canvas he is.
Instead of answering, Kaveh kisses him sweetly. Alhaitham reciprocates with equal passion. The kiss is languid, unhurried. As their lips meet in a rhythmic pattern, Kaveh undresses Alhaitham.
“I’m already stretched out,” Kaveh whispers into the small distance between their lips. “Do you want me to take the lead?”
Mouth dry, Alhaitham nods. Every day, he finds himself more and more attracted to Kaveh, in ways he hadn’t known were possible.
“I’m so in love with you,” Alhaitham mumbles, looking up at Kaveh, unguarded. Years ago, he could never say so aloud. Now, the words slip off his tongue without a second thought.
Kaveh laughs, a musical sound Alhaitham drinks up for the millionth time. “I know,” he says, eyes sparkling with mirth.
The following few minutes are a mix of slapping skin, interspersed kisses, and throaty moans. After two rounds, Kaveh exhausts himself, and Alhaitham takes over, bringing their bodies together once more.
“I’m close,” Kaveh half-moans half-whispers, arms wrapped around Alhaitham’s shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” Alhaitham says, hands on Kaveh’s hips. “I’ve got you,” he repeats, fervent emotion on the verge of spilling.
Alhaitham’s eyes are closed, and Kaveh’s face is buried in the crook of his neck. In this moment, only they exist, and the background fades into oblivion.
Until a squeak takes them out of their little world.
Alhaitham’s eyes fly open at the same time Kaveh turns his head. By the doorway, a much younger Kaveh and Alhaitham stand, clad in teal uniforms. The younger Kaveh’s hand is clasped over his mouth, evidently the one who made the sound. Meanwhile, Alhaitham’s counterpart is frozen, eyes darting left and right, trying to make sense of the situation.
Alhaitham turns his head to make eye contact with his Kaveh, who is evidently just as shocked.
What an inconvenience, Alhaitham thinks, sulking. So much for a peaceful day.
----------
Kaveh groans, holding his head and rubbing his tailbone from his impact with the hardwood floor. He looks at the ceiling, but the portal he fell through has already vanished. It’s unsurprising—he’s always had rotten luck.
He was drafting his graduation speech when the world opened from underneath him. He supposes it’s a blessing of sorts. He had been struggling to formulate the right words for his speech, and he no longer has anybody skilled in writing to help him out.
He surveys his surroundings. The furniture is unfamiliar—three moss-green divans, several karmaphala bookcases, and tasteless aranara carvings galore. The rug, matching the divans, is soft under his feet, and the coffee table is stacked with numerous unrecognizable books. However, for some reason, a sense of deja vu overwhelms him. He’s been here before, he’s sure.
As Kaveh gets up and dusts himself off, he hears a cough behind him. He whips around and sees him.
Grey hair, teal-orange eyes, golden headphones… Every category fits into place. But Kaveh doesn’t need a checklist. He knows it’s him at first glance.
A momentary silence passes between them. Kaveh doesn’t know what to say or if he should speak at all. For the last two months, Kaveh has only seen Alhaitham from the corner of his eye. Now that he’s standing dead center, staring into Kaveh’s pupils, he’s lost composure. A blessing, he thought. He mocks himself.
The last time Alhaitham stood in front of him, Kaveh ripped their thesis, and by that, the fabric of their friendship, apart. The last time Alhaitham stood in front of him, Kaveh told him that he regretted befriending him.
He’s replayed that conversation over and over, every day since their fight.
Alhaitham is the first to talk. “The research center,” he says, as if that explains anything.
Unfortunately, it does. Kaveh is part-relieved part-bitter that he still understands Alhaitham’s cryptic way of speaking. The idea of forgetting something that once came second-hand, almost instinctual, scares him. Yet, Kaveh is tired of trying to make out what Alhaitham shrouds in layer after layer of pretentiousness. He’s tired of being the one understanding, not the one understood.
“I knew this place looked familiar,” Kaveh responds after a beat. When did they refurnish? he thinks, taking another look around. The room looks more homey than before. “Did we teleport?”
Alhaitham does not answer. Instead, he takes a book off one of the shelves and flips through it.
Alhaitham has a bad habit of ignoring people he doesn’t deem worthy to talk to, Kaveh knows. He spent years reprimanding him for his rudeness, to which Alhaitham would say that he didn’t waste time on people who didn’t deserve it. Now that Kaveh has fallen into that category, he doesn’t know what to do.
“Hey,’ Kaveh says, trying to get Alhaitham’s attention. Alhaitham, unpredictably, doesn’t acknowledge him. He tries again. “Shouldn’t we work together to figure out what’s going on?” Although they’re on bad terms, Kaveh knows that they’ll be able to find out what’s going on with their two minds at work. He knows he should probably get the matra involved to investigate the disturbance, but a twisting feeling in his gut tells him to stay.
Alhaitham doesn’t reply immediately. When he does, he says, “You remember the last time we worked together.” His head stays facing away from Kaveh.
Kaveh… doesn’t have an argument. Feelings of sadness, confusion, and regret swim in his gut. It’s hard for him to accept this new normal of their strained relationship, when there was a time when their normal was bright smiles, warm hugs, and interlaced fingers.
Kaveh lets the silence fester. Pretending to be unbothered, he examines the opposite side of the room. He’s looking at a magazine with a remarkable picture of a palace with the most breathtaking flower decor when hears a muffled scream.
He whips around with a did you hear that? in his eyes. Alhaitham has the same question reflected in his. Without a word, they shuffle toward the sound.
Another noise goes off—breathy this time, like someone is gasping for air. Other fainter sounds leak through a closed door, one that they find themselves standing in front of. He hardly makes out a wet, sticky sound, something like that of a hydro slime, in the next room.
Before Kaveh can rationalize what could be behind the door, Alhaitham opens it. And…
Wow. What an eyeful.
Two people are on the bed, having passionate sex, if the marks and moans are anything to go by. Heat rushes to his face, and he lets out an embarrassing squeak at the shock.
Both men turn to look at him, but the blond one catches his eye first. Kaveh doesn’t like looking at his reflection, but he’d be damned if he didn’t recognize himself. Agnidus agate eyes stare back at him, and his cheeks are quickly becoming the same color. Kaveh’s gaze travels across the various hickeys, like they’re constellations. Thankfully, the sheets pool around the other Kaveh’s hips, so can’t see where his body connects with his partner.
At this moment, Kaveh realizes. If he’s here with his older self, then that must mean…
He looks over at the other person. Grey hair falls over his forehead. Teal-orange eyes, wide from shock, blink at him. He glances over at the bedside table. Pristine golden headphones sit there, oblivious to the situation at hand.
But Kaveh doesn’t need to check the boxes. Instinctively, he already knows it’s him.
Oh archons. This is the future. This is his future. And in the future, he’s having sex with Alhaitham.
Kaveh’s knees lose support, and his eyes roll back. He falls. The last thing he remembers is the feeling of hands gripping his shoulders as the world goes black.
----------
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Kaveh says for the nth time while pacing about their shared living room.
“Sit down. You’re going to wear yourself out,” says Alhaitham, watching Kaveh buzz around.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kaveh grumbles. He sits down anyway, right next to Alhaitham on one of their divans. Alhaitham remembers how particular Kaveh had been about the material. They visited dozens of shops before Alhaitham said fuck it and commissioned the textile with Kaveh’s sought-out design.
On the opposite divan sits their younger counterparts, spaced as far as they could be without falling off the furniture. The younger Kaveh fidgets with his fingers and examines his nails in feigned interest. Meanwhile, younger Alhaitham reads from a magazine titled “Most Magnificent Structures in Sumeru,” which he must’ve plucked from one of their bookshelves. Younger Alhaitham’s lips are pressed into a fine line and his glabella betrays the faintest crease. Most people would read his expression as distaste or disgust, but Alhaitham knows it’s distress.
Alhaitham doesn’t need to ask what year they’ve come from.
Kaveh continues speaking, mostly mumbling to himself. “This can’t be possible. If they time-traveled, I’d remember it. Maybe they’re from another dimension? No, Kaveh, you sound insane. They could be created from residual elemental energy—but no, that would break the law of conservation of mass—”
Alhaitham places his hand on Kaveh’s. “There’s a rational explanation for this. Perhaps, we traveled to the future but lost our memories when we returned to our timeline,” he suggests.
“You call that rational?” Kaveh says, scoffing. “There are no documented cases of time travel—”
“Wrong. Faruzan spent a century trapped in the desert, and her body didn’t age a day. Also, the Sabzeruz festival—”
“The Sabzeruz festival was a dream, not time travel! Also, that’s Madam Faruzan to you,” Kaveh fires back.
“Well, Senior Kaveh—”
A cough startles them out of their bickering-induced trance. Younger Alhaitham looks at them in a way that could be annoyance, indifference, or something else entirely.
“Do you have something to say?” Alhaitham asks, not unkindly but also not quite respectfully.
Kaveh elbows him. “What he means is do you two know something we don’t?” he asks in a much nicer tone. “We could use all the help we can get here.”
Younger Alhaitham’s eyes flit between Alhaitham and Kaveh. He answers, “I walked through a portal and ended up here.”
“Walked?” Kaveh’s eyebrows shoot up. “Willingly?”
Younger Alhaitham shrugs.
Kaveh turned to him. “Alhaitham,” he reprimands.
“I never did anything of the sort.”
“No, but you behave just as recklessly sometimes,” Kaveh says. “I’m sure I didn’t do that. Right?” He looks at his younger self.
Younger Kaveh, still fidgeting and pointedly looking in any direction away from his Alhaitham, says, “I fell through the portal. I was working at my desk when I was teleported here.”
“Fascinating,” Kaveh muses. “And you? Where were you when the portal appeared?” he says to younger Alhaitham.
He’s quiet for a moment, strangely hesitant in a way Alhaitham never is. Then, he says, “I was here. At the research center.”
Surprise erupts in both Kavehs’ features. Alhaitham, too, is surprised but he schools his face.
“Why?” he asks, blunt and direct.
Younger Alhaitham doesn’t respond verbally. He holds his gaze. Alhaitham notices the vague red rims of his eyes. He understands.
Kaveh, too, seems to understand, if his soft, sympathetic look is anything to go by.
Younger Kaveh, however, is lost. Instead of asking for answers, he huffs and turns further away.
Alhaitham would love to end the conversation now, but he can’t. Questions swim in both students’ eyes, and Alhaitham deems them better to clear up now before they burst in unpredictable and unsavory ways.
“If you want to know something, say it,” Alhaitham says, crossing his arms. “Knowledge doesn’t appear before people who don’t seek it.”
Aware of his implications, Kaveh glances at him sideways. Alhaitham places a hand on his thigh in reassurance. Younger Kaveh’s eyes flicker down to his hand then back up at him.
“You’re married,” he states, hard certainty in his voice.
Alhaitham doesn’t answer. The ring gleaming on his finger speaks volumes.
Younger Kaveh directs his gaze to his Kaveh. “Why?” he asks, voice carefully neutral.
Younger Alhaitham stays strangely silent.
A tad bashful, Kaveh smiles at his younger self. “It’s complicated. You’ll see,” he promises.
Alhaitham snorts. “You’re the one making it complicated. You know, you could just say you love me.”
“And what a curse it is,” Kaveh laments. “You’re always hogging the blanket. And you shove your cold feet on my side. All of the time,” he says with a mix of fondness and exasperation.
“Then maybe someone should take the hint and come warm me up.”
“Alhaitham,” Kaveh says, scandalized. “Not in front of the kids!”
“They’re fully grown adults.”
“Barely.”
“Your younger self looks like he’s going to pass out.”
“Huh?” Kaveh whips around to see the younger version of him holding his head up with one hand.
“I’m… just processing,” he says, having heard them. “You—did you ever… I mean, the thesis—did we ever fight?”
“Yes,” Alhaitham answers without missing a beat. “Many years ago, we had a falling out over… incompatible ideals.”
Kaveh sends him a look that says he disagrees. Though, he keeps his mouth shut.
“If you’re incompatible,” younger Kaveh says, “then—”
“I didn’t say that. Our ideals are incompatible, yes, but that doesn’t mean they can’t coexist,” Alhaitham says. “Ideals have never stopped me from loving Kaveh. In fact, they’re part of what I love about him.”
Younger Kaveh looks stunned but blushes nevertheless. From the corner of his eye, he sees his counterpart glaring at him. Alhaitham almost chuckles at his own ridiculousness. He remembers the jealousy from his Akademiya years quite well. His Kaveh knocks their knees together, face turned away in what Alhaitham presumes to be shyness. He was so confident earlier when Alhaitham professed his love, but it seems those terms only apply in their bedsheets.
Alhaitham stands up and dusts himself off. “Well then. I’m going to get answers from Nahida,” he says now that there’s no conversation left to continue. “See you.” He bends down to peck Kaveh’s hairline then proceeds to the door.
As he leaves, he hears their conversation, growing fainter and fainter.
“Who’s Nahida?”
“Oh. That’s what he calls Lord Kusanali.”
“What?”
Alhaitham quirks a smile. There’s a lot of surprises in store for their future.
----------
Kaveh stares up at a ceiling he hasn’t seen in forever. When their younger counterparts arrived, he was fine, if only a little embarrassed. Now, he’s sulking and simmering in petulance.
Alhaitham came back with extra groceries in hand and new information when Kaveh was cooking dinner. As they ate, Alhaitham shared what Lord Kusanali told him, which wasn’t much. She said that their younger counterparts would return to their timeline in “due time,” whenever that is. On the bright side, she granted Alhaitham a full week of paid time off. If only Kaveh could complain about their supernatural situation and get extensions for his projects…
But truly, everything was fine until Alhaitham brought up sleeping arrangements.
So you don’t love me anymore, Kaveh blinked in code when Alhaitham said they’d sleep in the same beds as their younger selves.
Alhaitham, being a menace, blinked back, Did I ever?
Kaveh kicked him under the table. Alhaitham merely smiled, like a masochist.
Kaveh glances over to his sleeping self next to him. The bed in his old room is much smaller than Alhaitham’s bed. Kaveh presses himself as close to the wall as possible, but his younger self takes up most of the space with his fetal position. Kaveh tries to imagine the cold, hard wall as Alhaitham’s warm, plush chest to no avail. The Kaveh next to him doesn’t even know what it’s like to sleep in Alhaitham’s arms, which is probably why can sleep with ease. Now that Kaveh knows luxury, he can’t go back.
Spoiled, Alhaitham would call him.
Your fault, Kaveh would counter.
Then, they’d make love. Naturally.
Trying to find a comfortable position, Kaveh shifts in bed. He doesn’t think he’ll fall asleep tonight. Or for the foreseeable future, for that matter, since their younger counterparts would be staying for who-knows-how-long.
Alhaitham’s bed can fit three people, Kaveh rationalizes as he wiggles out of the sheets. Mine’s too small for two. They’re probably asleep, anyway, he thinks, his feet moving on their own accord toward Alhaitham’s room. He cracks open the door and peers inside.
Both Alhaithams lie on their backs, side by side, like they’re in identical coffins. Kaveh holds in a laugh. It’s cute that some things never change.
Careful to not trip over stray books he told Alhaitham to put away, he tiptoes over to the bed. The mattress dips when Kaveh climbs on, but neither Alhaithams react. He slips under the blanket and presses up next to his Alhaitham. He’s warm and soft and just what Kaveh needs to knock out. His comforting, safe scent lulls Kaveh into drowsiness.
An arm snakes around him and pulls Kaveh closer. A pair of soft lips brushes against his hair. Smiling sleepily, he falls into sweet dreams.