Work Text:
"Kaveh, have you seen my-" Alhaitham poked his head around Kaveh's door, against his better judgment, to find him sitting at his desk, hunched over his work, as per usual.
What wasn't usual was finding Kaveh at his desk hunched over his work with Alhaitham's missing belt just barely visible, draping over the side of the chair. He was wearing Alhaitham's belt?
Kaveh didn't respond, didn't even acknowledge the question, so Alhaitham stepped fully into the doorway, squinting.
"Why are you wearing my belt?" He tried again. Kaveh was hard to interrupt when he was focused, but Alhaitham was too thrown by not having his belt to wait.
"Found it in the laundry, Haitham. I'm working." Kaveh didn't look up, waving an inky hand vaguely. Alhaitham supposed he couldn't really argue. And a Kaveh interrupted was much worse than a Kaveh focused, so he turned and went back to his room, puzzling it over.
Kaveh had plenty of clothing. And most of his clothing had a very specific color scheme. Kaveh knew what colors flattered him, gold and scarlet to bring out the colors in his eyes, an artist's attention to detail in everything he wore. Alhaitham wasn't an artist, but even he could see that his teals didn't really go with Kaveh's reds. So… by all accounts, it didn't make sense. But things that didn't make sense weren't worth dwelling on. So he simply stopped thinking about it, getting another belt from the closet, and didn't let it bother him. Or at least, tried not to.
The next day, the belt was returned to him, folded in his laundry, just a little ink smudged at the bottom. He thumbed over it, almost smiling, and put it away where it belonged.
It didn't stay there.
It wasn't every day. But he noticed, every so often, that same belt going missing. Kaveh, stressed over a deadline. Kaveh, going to Lambad's. Kaveh, home alone for a long night that Alhaitham spent arguing with the sages. Alhaitham could find rhyme nor reason to it, how he only seemed to take it when Alhaitham wasn't there. He hadn't protested Kaveh taking the belt before, hadn't even argued about it. By all accounts, it didn't make sense.
But things that didn't make sense weren't worth dwelling on. So he told himself not to let it bother him.
It bothered him.
A rare Wednesday off found him home when he shouldn't have been. Normally, even days off he spent in his office, not wanting to throw off his routine. But Kaveh went to the market on Wednesdays, and Alhaitham found himself still at home, sat on his bed, holding the little ink-smudged belt in hand. He wasn't surprised when Kaveh opened the door quietly and slipped into the room, but Kaveh seemed to be, startling dramatically.
"Haitham," he gasped, hand over his heart, "what are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same of you. This is my bedroom," he pointed out.
"I- I was-" he stammered, puffing up a little, cheeks flushed, hands on his hips, "going to borrow a-"
Alhaitham held out the belt. "A belt? This one?"
"Yes," Kaveh replied, after a long pause.
"You seem to like it. At the market, you could buy one of your own."
"No-" Kaveh said, flushed, "-I don't want to buy one."
Alhaitham puzzled, again. Kaveh was so difficult. It wasn't like they were expensive.
"I could buy it for you, then," he offered, question in his voice.
"I'll stop borrowing it, if it's such a burden to you." Kaveh turned on his heel, a swirl of scarlet and blond, making his way back out of the room and almost managing to slam the door behind him. Alhaitham caught the door handle, just in time, and pulled back, knocking Kaveh off balance and grabbing his wrist. To stop him, to stabilize him, something.
"You can wear it. It's fine," Alhaitham said, staring down into Kaveh's flushed, embarrassed face. "But I don't understand."
He didn't like admitting to not understanding things. There weren't many things that he didn't understand. But on that list, Kaveh sat up at the top, so familiar, yet so curiously strange. A puzzle. A puzzle he kept putting together, piece by piece, slowly but surely, but with every one he connected, two more popped up. Kaveh would never cease to intrigue him, it seemed.
"It's comfortable." Kaveh snatched the belt from his hand, but didn't put it on, one hand still held in Alhaitham's grasp.
That didn't clarify anything. Of course it was comfortable. Everything Alhaitham bought was of fine material, soft, with as agreeable of a texture as he could find. It explained nothing. Kaveh could easily get his own belt. Of the same material.
"All of my clothing is comfortable. I am particular about materials." He frowned at Kaveh.
"Not… not that kind of comfortable." Kaveh pulled his hand away, easily. Alhaitham wasn't paying attention. He turned, winding the belt around his waist and tying it deftly. "I mean it's comfortable for me to… have something of yours, when I go places by myself. Since you won't come with me when I go anywhere, spoilsport."
There was a bravado to his voice, but it was tremulous. Like he was admitting something he didn't want to. Perhaps because he was afraid Alhaitham would scold him for his sentimentality. Perhaps because he was afraid Alhaitham would scold him for calling him a spoilsport.
"Oh." He blinked at the back of Kaveh's head.
"I'm going to the market." Kaveh pulled on his cape, brusquely.
So he was going to the market. Alone. Wearing Alhaitham's belt, because it was comforting to him. Alhaitham turned around, grabbing his own cape and following him out.
"What are you doing?" Kaveh asked, halfway through opening the door.
"Coming with you," he responded, eyebrows furrowed. It seemed obvious.
"You hate the market." He wasn't asking.
"Yes." Alhaitham did hate the market. It was loud, crowded. Too many people, too bright, too noisy. But it seemed Kaveh didn't want to go alone. He could accompany him. Alhaitham thought he was better company than a belt, probably. Kaveh looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had.
"I'm still wearing it." His tone was accusatory.
"That's fine." He'd expected it, anyway. After another moment of suspiciously squinted eyes and clenched fists, Kaveh relaxed, turning and leaving the house, Alhaitham on his heels.
He stuck close to Kaveh's shoulder as they walked. It was just as crowded as he remembered, just as loud.
When Kaveh started fidgeting with the end of the belt, rubbing at the little ink spot, Alhaitham took his hand. The shocked expression that flickered over Kaveh's face replaced itself quickly with something questioning, and Alhaitham nodded at him, squeezing lightly. He was right. It was comforting. He didn't let go until they were home, loosening his fingers from Kaveh's to unlock the door, because of course, Kaveh never remembered his keys.
They didn't speak about it. But the next morning, when Alhaitham couldn't find his shirt, he knew where to look.