𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 | 𝐤𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐡
series: yoimix christmas event !! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)
pairing: kaveh x reader
synopsis: apparently, being a genius architect does not translate into making perfect gingerbread houses. and with the distractions he presents, you really should’ve thought this through.
prompt: kaveh + making a gingerbread house together + e2l
genre: fluff, e2l, golden retriever boy kaveh
wc: 2.8k
warnings: language, kaveh blushes easily, they’re both so stupid bc idiots to lovers is my fav trope, there’s some ~sexual tension~
a/n: let’s pretend christmas is a thing on teyvat and jesus ascended to celestia or smth </3
“No. Absolutely not.” You cross your arms.
“Why not?”
“Why does a gingerbread house need a courtyard?” You ask, exasperated.
“For the gingerbread children to play around the snow, I don’t know!” Kaveh throws his hands up in defeat. “It’ll look beautiful, trust me.”
“Have you ever, in your life, considered the practicality of anything?” You massage your forehead.
There is no way this could’ve worked out. Who suggested the two of you work together for the competition again? Ah, that bastard Alhaitham, backed by the little purple merchant. You shouldn’t have trusted the Scribe, the villain of every rumor circulating through Sumeru city, and let’s not start on Dori. Yet, you took up his offer and his word that he knows the best architect of the Ksharehwar Darshan.
You were suspicious, of course, but you didn’t expect to fall right into the arms of the most heinous existence known to civil engineers across all of Teyvat. You’d never have thought the Scribe of Sumeru Akademiya held Kaveh in such high regard, much less that they were roommates. After all, Kaveh’s just the most obnoxious presence you’ve dealt with during your time at the Akademiya. He’s talented, no doubt—just a nightmare to work with. And that’s what you told yourself when you signed both of your names up regardless.
If only someone would let you start. He’s spewing nonsense for all you care.
“You architects and your poetic gibberish,” you huff. “It’s going to be a cottage at most!”
“It can’t be that hard,” he presses, leaning forward. “I already have the design in mind. Why don’t you let me do it?”
“How dare you- you sound so… condescending, you big oaf!” You seethe. “We’d have a better chance at winning if you let me take over instead.”
“You think a boring old cottage will win a competition all of Sumeru is partaking in?”
You press your lips together. That’s true. Easy won’t win. But what he’s suggesting is simply ridiculous.
“I know the festival comes from Mondstadt but this is Sumeru! We don’t have to do that cottage nonsense.” Kaveh matches your eye level, his own bright with anticipation. “I’ve known Sumeru architecture my whole life, I promise I won’t mess it up. For-for you.”
His tone is softer; perhaps he’s too tired to fight. He rubs the back of his head, standing awkwardly under your gaze.
“Fine,” you agree, crossing your arms. “But none of that interior decorating!”
Kaveh pouts. “But the little chairs and tables and fireplace! They’ll be so cute.”
You step closer, a glare so sharp even Kaveh flinches. “We have twelve hours to get this done, Kaveh. Let’s not waste time. I like my eight hours of sleep.”
The icy tone of your voice must have gotten to him. He flushes deeply, eyes unable to meet yours.
“Al-alright.”
Disaster starts with all-purpose flour. Or maybe disaster is in Kaveh’s bones and every stretch of his limbs rains down your misery.
“That’s too much!” You wave your hands around wildly. “Have you ever baked before?”
“Not really,” he answers.
You can only return a deadpan stare. “Huh. What made you want to join the competition then?”
“Money.”
You suck your teeth.
“That, and I like the idea of designing something made to be destroyed,” he hums, shuffling through the cupboard to bring out the rest of the utensils. “I’ve never done that before.”
You feel a smile tugging. “Well, you certainly are destroying our chances at this competition.”
“Hey!”
Kaveh sprinkles a bit of flour towards you, catching you off guard. Jaw unhinging in disbelief, you take some more of the flour and throw it right at his face. He turns in time, but there’s flour inside his shirt and a not-so-friendly look on his face.
“Careful!”
“You started it!”
“Don’t be a child.”
“You’re the child, you asshole,” you huff.
Kaveh copies your huff, setting down the whisk and bowls. Dusting off the flour from his shirt, he curls his lips at you. Something about this man brings out your childish side and you find yourself sticking your tongue out at him in a mocking expression.
A soft laugh escapes his lips, catching you offguard. You’ve never seen him laugh like that in the Akademiya, but then again you barely ever talked back then.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you so worked up,” he notes, following your directions on whisking the batter. You shake your head, holding his wrist from moving too hard and adjusting his rhythm. He might as well be whisking everything out of the bowl.
You scoff, adding the cinnamon powder. “You haven’t seen me at the Akademiya? You think I got all those hell assignments done taking it easy?”
“I never said you take it easy,” he hums. “In fact, I love that you take things like this seriously—er, I- what I meant was- uh…”
You raise an eyebrow. “You are a peculiar man.”
Kaveh frowns. “Me? I’m the peculiar one? Have you met my roommate?”
“Unfortunately,” you mutter. “Of the two of you, though, I’m not sure who’s worse.”
Kaveh looks genuinely offended at your comment. He even stops whisking the batter, just to look at you with as much disapproval as he can muster.
You laugh at his open mouth and furrowed brows, clutching your stomach at the sensation.
“I know it’s rich coming from me but…” You wipe away a tear, laughing. “Don’t take yourself so seriously. It’s funny but…”
Kaveh purses his lips. “Whatever you say, (name). I’m not the one microanalysing every grain of flour.”
“Ooh, big word, Mr Aesthete.” You place your hands on your hips. “I’m not the one who bursts into tears at mini figurines.”
You did see him holding back tears yesterday on your stroll through the city to get ingredients and ‘gather inspiration’ for Kaveh. It wasn’t something all that special, just a few dollhouses and special miniature sets at the antique shop. As much as you hate to admit it, his look was kind of… endearing. At least Kaveh didn’t end up spending whatever money he had on him to buy the sets.
He flushes a cherry red. “How- Huh? There’s no way you could’ve—I- I don’t do that every time.”
“You think you could hide your tears from me?” You roll your eyes. “You were ogling the display so much that Khalid nearly got his hopes up.”
“They had a miniature dog by the fireplace!” He defends, turning so sharply his elbow hits the pot of heated corn syrup.
This man is a disaster, you swear.
A pained yelp follows, the hot mixture sticking to his forearm as his skin turns bright red. You gasp, turning off the heat on the stove and grabbing his hand to lead him to the sink. Making sure the water’s cold, you bring his wrist under the flow, clicking your tongue at how painful his skin looks.
You look up to chide him, but his eyes are trained on yours in a gaze too soft to be scolded. You realize, though inappropriate, that his lashes frame his eyes perfectly. It’s mesmerizing to meet his gaze. He, of all people, shouldn’t be making you feel this way.
“You should be more careful.” You clear your throat. “I thought you were gentler than this.”
“I- I’m not sure what got into me.”
You know exactly what got into him. The two of you drive each other insane, that’s all. This is what disliking someone feels like, right? With the rise of blood to your cheeks and an increased pulse—is he looking at your lips? You turn back to the faucet, shutting it off. Your heart is screaming in your ears.
“You need some burn ointment first, and uh- I have some bandaids on me.” You look around.
“I’ll get the ointment,” he says quietly. He leaves the kitchen and you’re left alone with your thoughts
It’s an odd moment. Neither of you acknowledge it but there’s been a turn in the path of your hearts. Kaveh is likeable, you’ll give him that. Even though he gets on your nerves with his aesthetic bullshit, he strives to do what’s right. You can respect him, at the very least. But he’s still rather bullheaded.
You click your tongue again. Why are you analyzing him? You knead the mixture before preparing it for refrigeration. Kaveh is not what you should be thinking about. You’ve set your mind on a goal and it’s the gingerbread house contest for now. Distractions never kept you from achieving your goals in the Akademiya. But then again, you never saw Kaveh this close, his face a breath away from yours. Sliding to the floor, you inhale deeply.
You smack your cheeks with your hands. What is wrong with you? This is Kaveh. The one man in the Ksharehwar Darshan that would one-up you no matter what. You can’t possibly turn all friendly towards him just because he’s breathtakingly pretty.
“Are you… alright?”
You didn’t even hear him coming over the sound of your thoughts. Kaveh looks at you with concern, lips pursed. He reaches out a hand, and you take it almost reflexively before he pulls you up.
“We have two hours to kill…” You trail off when you notice the lion bandaid on his arm.
“That’s so cute!” you exclaim. “Ahem. I- I mean…”
Kaveh breaks into a smile. “You like cute things too. Why are you acting tough?”
“I’m not!” You sulk.
“I like the keychain on your belt,” he comments, a pointed look thrown your way.
You place your hand over it protectively. It’s a basic black cat carved out of wood, a good luck charm for all your endeavors.
“You always clutched it before any exam or presentation,” he continues, “I thought that was cute.”
Your eyes widen. “How do you remember that? It was so long ago.”
Kaveh opens his mouth and then closes it. A faint pink dusts his cheeks. “It just stuck out to me, I guess.”
You purse your lips. “I’m sorry I don’t remember much of you from the Akademiya days.”
Kaveh laughs. “Why are you sorry? I’m glad you don’t. I was kind of embarrassing when I started out.”
“Oh, I remember that.”
“I hate you.”
“Mhm, every engineer’s nightmare, Kaveh. You designed that Sumeru rose-shaped cottage, remember?”
“Archons, don’t start.”
“Then you argued with the sage on why it’s a practical yet comfortable design. And it still got rejected.”
“You only remember my failures, don’t you?”
You giggle at the cringed out look on his face.
“And then you built the Pardis Dhyai.” You recall its architecture fondly. Only a great amount of care and passion could ever produce something like that, and Kaveh is the only man you know that possesses a seemingly unending amount of both.
It’s not so difficult to spend two hours anymore, when you’re trying to recall memories of each other from you student days. He has more of you surprisingly and though teasing, you can’t help but feel a certain fondness in his voice.
The reminder creeps up again. This is not the time to think of Kaveh’s expressive eyes and fiery lips as he pokes another jab at you for being the most uptight Ksharehwar student. You and him aren’t like that. You’re barely friends and you have the audacity to want his touch.
“Alright, let’s see what genius design you came up with,” you exhale, taking the batter out of the refrigerator.
It’s like turning on a switch. Kaveh grows silent, scaling the the batter on the tray to his design print and neatly cutting out the pieces. This is the first time you’ve seen him work on anything; the skill with which his hands move make you unable to look away.
“So, I was thinking there should be an arboretum by the courtyard and—are you listening?”
“Uh? Y-yeah.” You can’t admit you were staring at his face like some lovesick fool.
“Alright.” He furrows his brows. “I’m not sure how to make the Christmas tree though.”
“We can use an ice-cream cone,” you suggest, “And put some green frosting over it.”
He clicks his fingers, amazed. “That’s so smart!”
You rub the the back of your head. “Not… not really but thanks.”
He smiles at you.
“Shall we bake?” He extends a hand, as though asking for a dance an you laugh. He’s not so bad after all. You just held his hotheadedness against him for too long.
Finally placing the tray in the oven, you breathe a sigh of relief. You slide to the floor again, the cool marble somewhat comforting. Sumeru doesn’t get too cold, even in winters. Just drier than usual.
“You must really enjoy looking up at things,” Kaveh mutters, crouching down in front of you.
“I’m sorry you’ve never experienced the world like this.” You roll your eyes. “Were your ancestors Ajilenakh trees?”
He laughs aloud, a pleasant sound reverbating through the kitchen.
“It got you to look at me,” he says softly.
“Hm?”
Kaveh looks back at you, pursing his lips. It seems like he’s fighting an internal debate, an argument that’s not with you or Alhaitham for once.
“I’ve always…” He trails off, eyes looking elsewhere. “I know I wasn’t much of a spectacle back in the Akademiya but I would do anything to get you to look at me.”
“Huh…? Kaveh—”
“And- and it led to some stupid actions but I just… I wanted to you to look at me. I’m so… I’m sorry if I ever gave you a hard time.” He looks remorseful. “I know I could’ve handled the group projects better, or the presentations—I never meant to be competitive.”
“Are you saying that—”
“I like you.” He meets your gaze. “And I should’ve handled it better.”
You sit up sharply at the sudden confession, your back hitting the table a bit too hard. Before you can exclaim in pain, the sense of impending danger makese you stiffen.
“Careful!” Kaveh exclaims, moving reflexively to catch the bowl of extra batter before it can barrel down on you, his arms stretching above your head. His face looks down at yours at a proximity you should be uncomfortable with, but instead, a rapid firing of blood to your ears makes you stiffen up. Don’t look at his lips, don’t look at his lips, don’t—
Rosy and soft, they’re quite alluring if you stare long enough. You look down, closing your eyes shut.
At the very same moment, the door to the kitchen creaks open and Ahaitham stops in his tracks before he can take a step inside. A look of mild disgust shapes his expression.
He blinks slowly twice, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not in the kitchen.”
“It’s not like that!” The two of you snap, nearly yelling. The audacity of this man to even suggest such a thing.
Alhaitham raises an eyebrow. “And yet both of you know exactly what I was talking about. It must be on your mind.”
The same rush of blood you feel on your face is mirrored against Kaveh’s apple-tainted cheeks.
“Just… don’t dirty the kitchen,” Alhaitham saunters off with a warning tone. “It’s supposed to be a sanitized area.”
The two of you take a moment to recover.
“Why, that…”
“I’m going to kill him,” you grumble.
But Alhaitham seems to be the only one who put two and two together. Was bringing you to Kaveh also a scheme? You’ll never know with the Scribe.
“We can make mini furniture with the extra batter,” you blurt. It’s been on your mind. You just didn’t want to openly admit it.
“O-oh,” Kaveh responds, before realization flushes into his face. “Of all the responses, that’s not the one—you know what, I’m glad.”
He seems a little down; getting his confession ignored wasn't part of the plan for sure. However, it makes you want to tease him more.
“Are you free this Christmas?” You ask, leaning forward. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.
“I- uh- yes, I am.”
“Do you wanna go look at the lights together?” You smile, eyes knowing.
“Yes!” He responds quickly. “I do. With you. I mean, of course. That’s- uh… a given.”
“Alright then,” you pull back, a teasing smile on your face. “If we win the competition, we can go on a celebratory date.”
“Date?” He squeaks before clearing his throat, turning redder by the second. “That’s not even- I never suggested- what I- uh- um, I- that’s not—”
You lean forward and press a light kiss to his lips, effectively stopping his babbling. Mouth hanging agape, he can’t seem to move a muscle.
You press a finger to your lips, trying to keep yourself from smiling. “We have to win, alright? Or I won’t be able to justify that.”
Kaveh looks like he might just combust, breathing heavy before he covers his face in the crook of his arm.
“Of course we will!”
(Results just in: You did win. It’s just that your gingerbread house broke apart within fifteen seconds of a particularly strong gust of wind, and you had to keep Kaveh from sobbing hysterically. The sweet taste of the ruined house did surprisingly well as consolation, as did your date.)