“Not as much as if I had it my way,” Kaveh replies. Al-Haitham raised a brow. His eyes very obviously fell to Kaveh’s lips before lifting back to meet his gaze. “That can be arranged,” he says, voice lower than it was before. Oh. Kaveh should be furious. But he doesn't say no, either.

Al-Haitham looks up. “You’re still going on about that?” “Yes? That was the whole point of coming here tonight!” Al-Haitham snorted, the ghost of a smirk appearing on his lips. “Good to know you’ve enjoyed yourself.” “With your playlist? Hah! As if!” “You certainly looked like you did."

Kaveh slumped against the table. Al-Haitham shot a glare at him and pushed him off. “Who am I going to pester now?” “Maybe the guy you were dancing with,” Al-Haitham suggests. “Well,” Kaveh says, “maybe the radio station they play will at least have the sense to shuffle their songs.”

Al-Haitham did not answer him, which was as good as him rolling his eyes. “What, then? What was that all about?” “My shift ends in five minutes,” he says. “I’d rather not be stuck here for longer than necessary.” “Oh.” Kaveh’s heart fell. “So soon?” Al-Haitham hummed - a confirmation.

He stared as Al-Haitham switched the song out for the last one on his usual playlist. Nobody else here would care, but Kaveh did. He always did, when it came to him. He made his way back over to Al-Haitham’s station. “Decided to give my words some thought?” he asked hopefully, breathlessly.

Kaveh grinned. He waved snarkily at Al-Haitham to catch his attention. My eyes are up here, he mouthed across the distance. Al-Haitham’s shoulders shook with a huff. Kaveh leaned into his dance partner, laughing. Suddenly, the song began to fade out. Startled, Kaveh stopped dancing.

He found those beautiful eyes trained on him. The way Al-Haitham’s gaze was always so intense… Archons. He tossed his head back, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard. When he looked back, he saw the shift in Al-Haitham's eyes, the way they raked shamelessly over his body, watching his swaying hips.

He quickly found an eager dance partner and let himself sway to the beat, getting lost in the music. He laughed with them, joining in the throng of writhing bodies. He was sweating and panting, grinding back on someone, when he finally caved and looked across the room to the D.J. station.

He thinks back to the other nights he’s been here - the way he’d quickly drown his sorrows in alcohol. It's all fuzzy senses, strobing lights and repetitive music after that. He must have seen Al-Haitham here before, to fixate on it so entirely. Even subconsciously, it always came back to him.

He spins on his heel and strides purposefully out onto the dance floor. The music is still pounding. He can feel Al-Haitham’s curious gaze on him. He worries with a flush if this is what Tighnari meant. To not always be mean. Had he been cruel to Al-Haitham here at the club - had he said too much?