After Hours

After Hours

Synopsis: Alhaitham has multiple, very good reasons for not liking to stay after office hours. You're one of them. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: Female reader x Husband!Alhaitham, Spoilers for the archon quests, Fluff, Domesticity, Slight angst, Pregnancy, Morning sickness (pretty heavy on the morning sickness but nothing graphic, just mentions of puking + inability to keep food down), Pregnancy woes, Established relationship, kind of hidden pregnancy, Alhaitham is 27 in my head and so is the reader A/N: listen. LISTEN. I don't normally write pregnancy but I had this idea and HAD to let it out. There is nothing hotter to me than a smart, dependable man with a stable, cushy job that's utterly in love with you. I'm a gojo writer, but damn. Alhaitham has me feeling some sort of way.

"Given the recent developments, there are many researchers wondering about what will happen to their funding. Acting Grand Sage, do you have any-"

"I'll be taking my leave now."

"H-Huh?"

Alhaitham clears his throat and stands, his chair dragging against the floor. From high-profile staff at the Akademiya, to esteemed researchers searching for an answer, Alhaitham casually shrugs off the bewildered, confused stares they give him.

"It's 5PM," he says nonchalantly. "You can find me at my desk tomorrow morning at 9."

"B-But we're not done with the meeting-"

"Goodbye."

"Wait-"

"My work for the day is done," Alhaitham hums, effectively cutting off whatever it was that was about to be said. Silence befalls the room, tension growing in its stead. "Haven't I already made my stance on this very clear?"

For all that is said and done, at least they knew how to stop talking when he displays his displeasure. Maybe being the Acting Grand Sage wasn't that bad after all. There were very few that would dare challenge his authority.

"But Sir, our meeting just started..."

Maybe not.

"Well, you should have started it earlier." Alhaitham doesn't miss a beat, neatly gathering his documents into a pile for his assigned assistant to take away. There's a tiny smile on his assistant's face, the young, interning scholar finding the entire exchange amusing.

Alhaitham fails to see what could be soooo amusing about working past official office hours.

5:01. Alhaitham clicks his tongue.

"Acting Grand Sage," a scandalised voice begins, but the person he's referring to is in a rush. Alhaitham should be out of the Akademiya by now. He can't risk being late. "It is imperative that you give us the necessary instructions so that Sumeru can still function as per usual..."

He tunes the voice out. It's past 5. He doesn't have to listen.

If they could handle themselves under Azar's so-called leadership, they can handle themselves under no supervision for the next sixteen hours. Sure, years worth of rampant corruption was difficult to erode without work, but it wasn't as if staying past 5 would magically fix everything overnight.

Alhaitham would tell them to go home and leave it for tomorrow... But it's now 5:02 and he's running behind on time. Simply being within the House of Daena was a pleasantry he was not willing to give for even a second longer.

"A-Alhaitham!"

He walks past the old man, past Cyno, and he's out of the door, out of the Akademiya, in mere moments.

The passing scholars greet him, all up to date with the change of hands after the atrocities of the previous Sages had gone public. Various pairs of eyes linger on him. Seemingly overnight, he had become known to the public as one of the core few that had freed Sumeru's Archon and foiled Azar's plan.

A mighty accomplishment in the eyes of the people, indeed.

It doesn't take long to get to the Bazar, where his task at hand was. He's done this tons of times before, but with every passing day, he only seems to get pickier with the produce before him.

Yoghurt, Tomatoes, Ginger, Butter...

"Oh, honey..."

He looks away from a ripe tomato and into the eyes of an older auntie who stood next to him with a fond look on her face.

"You're going to stare a hole into that poor tomato at that rate."

Alhaitham has no idea who she is. Silently, he returns his gaze to the tomato pile and narrows down the select few that had passed his earlier inspection. He'd grab them, pay, and leave.

"Ah ah!" The lady laughs, interrupting his process. "Come, dear. Have these tomatoes instead," she says, offering him her basket of tomatoes. "It's the least I could do for the Grand Sage."

"Acting Grand Sage," he can't help but correct.

"Yes, yes, the Acting Grand Sage. Honestly, what does it matter! Come! Have these. I have a good eye for tomatoes, you know?"

Alhaitham can't help but agree. The tomatoes are perfect. If his departure hadn't been halted, even for those few minutes, he would have gotten to them first. Ripe, juicy, no blemishes whatsoever, fresh... They're good. Declining is the first thought that comes into mind. He has no need to owe anyone any favours. But how can he when he remembers who was waiting for him back home?

"Ahhh, don't be shy!" The auntie shoves them into his own basket, where a few ginger roots sat alongside some cloves of garlic and some extra spices. "You've done so much for Sumeru! This is the least we could do."

She doesn't seem malicious. Or looking for anything in return.

"...Thank you, then."

And that special phrase unleashes hell on earth. The moment the tomatoes make a touchdown in his basket, he gets swamped by the aunties and uncles at the bazar.

"Here! Have some fish!"

"Oh! Oh! Here's some preserved vegetables! Take these, too!"

"Acting Grand Sage! My mama told me to give this to you!" "Me too! Here! Here!"

It's comes and goes as abruptly as a tidal wave. There's not even a chance to reply to anyone, or reject anything. Before Alhaitham knows it, he's decorated with new groceries. Everyone who had gifted him something was long gone, walking away like nothing had happened.

For the first time in a long while, Alhaitham feels awkward standing alone in the Bazar.

"I'll take these..." Alhaitham says, sliding his personal basket to Housein. It's a little difficult to get his mora pouch out while holding so many items, but he manages. It's not like he can just abandon everything at the side of the pavement. There were too many prying eyes.

"Oh, they'll be on the house, Mr Alhaitham!" Housein grins, declining the mora. The produce seller looks pleased with himself. "The Bazar technically owes you for helping to oust Azar! Now the theatre can continue their performances!"

"I insist-"

"Really, it's alright!"

"No, I-"

"Alhaitham! Oh, my sweet boy!" Someone grabs his arm, whisking him away before he could get Housein to accept his mora. Greying hair frames the old lady's face, and Alhaitham recognises her in an instant.

"Auntie?"

"Yes, yes. Come," she ushers him, giddy with excitement. "I have some things that you'll appreciate."

"I don't think that's necessary," he sighs, nodding at the bags he was already carrying. He had fish and chicken slung over his shoulder. Not to mention the countless fresh produce in each bag... "Can it not wait until our next visit?"

"Nonsense," she swats his arm. "You will like what I have!"

Rationality and knowledge cannot override the cultural traditions and norms ingrained in each Sumeru citizen from a young age. Alhaitham follows the former Amurta researcher up to the hospital she now worked at during her retirement.

Dutifully, the Scribe stands in wait, ignoring the stares and awed whispers of the people as the old lady rounds the corner of the reception desk to dig through her stock. Save for a couple of patients and their attending physicians, the Bimarstan is quiet today.

"Here," she hums proudly, brandishing a bundle of pouches. They're beautifully embroidered, with patterns that he could easily identify to be from some of the Seven nations. "I got some supplements for your wife."

The mere mention of you has the tips of Alhaitham's ears warming. The lady might be old, but her eyes are still sharp as ever. She chuckles, patting his arm appreciatively, and some of the staff familiar with you and he smile to themselves, knowing something many did not.

"You two are so adorable," she sighs wistfully. "Come, I'll explain each one to you."

"Thank you."

The old pharmacist explains each supplement in great detail. There's a whole assortment available, from powders, to tea bags, to roots, and to pills and potions from each nation. All of high quality.

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Alhaitham says, setting down his groceries to pull out his mora pouch. Once again, he's declined.

"If you really want to repay me, then go take better care of your wife," she tuts. The old lady always had a soft spot for you. "It's not healthy to make her worry so much."

The reminder brings forth a surge of emotions that he gingerly represses for now.

"Of course," he bows deeply, "I will. Thank you."

"Ah, I shan't hold you up anymore. Off you go!"

Neatly packing his spoils for the day, Alhaitham bids his farewell and walks off in the direction of his home. Though, unfortunately, it's not fast enough to escape the various food stall owners...

Returning home is no easy feat, not when you're lugging home months worth of groceries. Still, as with anything thrown his way, Alhaitham manages. He's careful with his keys, making sure they don't make too much noise lest you wake from your slumber or worse, run to greet him. And - Oh.

"Habibti," he says, greeting you out of habit even if he can clearly see that you're asleep on the couch.

As quietly as possible, Alhaitham shuffles his way into his house along with all the groceries. It's almost feels like he's a thief in his own house.

The groceries are set on the floor, in a neat pile that he'll sort out later. The citizens were well-meaning, but he needed to do another check to make sure nothing was tainted. He braces himself when the bags crinkle against each other, but you don't wake. Good, he thinks. You needed the rest.

Shoes off, his hands washed, any fatigue laced into his muscles dissipates the moment he comes to stand in front of you. Alhaitham leans down to brush aside stray strands of your hair away from your forehead. His fingers ghost over your soft skin. You looked glowing.

"Good evening," he greets softly, lips pressed against your forehead. You stir, but he soothes you back into dreamland. His palm smooths back and forth between your waist and where your bellybutton was, and he smiles himself when he sees the corner of your lips curl up.

Gently, he plucks your hands from the knitting needles Kaveh had gotten you. The half-done blanket resting on the swell of your belly is removed, set neatly on the coffee table with the rest of your colourful balls of yarn. Alhaitham easily carries you, slipping his an arm under your back and the other under your knees.

Though he wants to tuck you back in bed, he knows you well enough to place you into the comfy armchair he had gotten instead. He leaves, only to return from your shared bedroom with a fluffy blanket to keep you warm. Tucking you in is an terribly short affair. Parting from you takes a lot of willpower.

In the time you're asleep, Alhaitham busies himself around the house. The groceries get checked, washed, and put away, and he takes a much needed shower. He's halfway through sweating the minced garlic and shallots when you finally wake, your tiny, sleepy voice making its way to him.

"Haitham...?"

The fire goes out.

"Yes, habibti?" He pulls his apron off, walking out of the kitchen. Warmth pools in his chest when he takes you in; how your blanket slides off your shoulders; how your eyes blearily search him out.

"Welcome home," you say dazedly, arms open and raised up to beckon him in for a hug. Alhaitham closes the distance in less than a second, pulling you in.

"Mm," he hugs you tight, mindful of your baby bump. His hand splays out protectively over your tummy, and a light giggle erupts from you as you bask in his warmth.

Getting down on one knee, level with the evidence of his, and your, love, he looks up at you and asks, "How was your day, habibti?"

"I was working on the baby blanket," you tell him, gesturing at the knitwork on the table. "I was thinking of making a few."

"It's going well?"

You nod, happily engaging him in conversation before he carefully nudges open a new door of conversation. One that you understood, but didn't like. High on pregnancy hormones (and on stress), he distinctly remembers you crying to him in the middle of the night, telling him that it felt like you were being interrogated whenever he wouldn't let up on the questions.

You had subsequently thrown up dinner.

And promptly fell back asleep on him.

Thus, the small talk.

"Did our baby give you any trouble today?" He asks gently, a hand gently circling your wrist. One finger traces unintelligible symbols against your skin as the other pressed against your pulse.

You shake your head slowly as he counts in his. "Just some nausea."

"And lunch?" He asks, switching hands. "How was lunch? What did you have?"

You shake your head sadly. "Couldn't keep much of it down. Baby bird didn't agree with it."

"They didn't?" Alhaitham frowns, a contemplative look on his face. "I see. Did you drink-"

"Did I drink the tea you made?" You raise a brow, completing the question for him.

"...Yes."

You were catching on. And fast. Silently, he pulls your hand towards his face to kiss the back of your palm, hoping that it would throw you off.

"Did it help?"

"It did," you tell him. The suspicious look you had softens. "It was very good. Helped with the nausea for a bit."

"I see. And did you-"

"Haitham," You admonish gently. "Stop being such a worrywart. I've been taking care of myself. These things happen. It's normal."

"Yes, habibti, I'm aware, but you're already in your second trimester. I just want to check if-"

Accustomed to this, you cut him off with words he can't ignore.

"I'm hungry."

"You're hungry?" He pauses. He supposes that you're bound to be, considering what you had just reported about lunch. "I just started cooking, but the people at the Bazar gave us a lot of food."

"Really? That's nice of them. Why?"

"As thanks," he says vaguely, squeezing your side. "There's a lot of it. Tandoori chicken, Curry, Kebabs, Wraps... Is there anything to your fancy?"

"Mm, I guess," you half-heartedly answer. "Then why are you still cooking?"

"You said you wanted Butter Chicken this morning."

The name of the dish makes your mouth water, the reminder perking you up. The baby nestled deep in your womb agrees.

"Grab something light," he says, recognising that expression of yours. You looked pleased to smell his cooking wafting through the air, only just realising it after the grip of sleep had loosened its hold on you. "I only just started."

"Okay-"

"Sit down. I'll grab it for you. What do you want?" Your husband urges you back into the chair. It begins, once more.

"I don't know," you roll your eyes at him, "I have to get up and see what there is, don't I?"

"I already told you what there is. If it helps, there's Samosas and-"

"I want to look for myself," you interrupt. "I'm pregnant. Not incapable."

"The doctor said you need to be careful."

"The doctor said that I can move around. That I should move around."

"Within reason," he adds, grumbling, just because. Helping you stand after your complaints, you hold him, hugging his arm tightly, and Alhaitham watches you waddle towards the kitchen with him in tow.

He never expected the pregnant waddle to happen so soon. Archons, he hadn't expected you to look so cute, either. You were partway through your second trimester and he can't imagine how it'd be like in your third.

"Oooh," you coo, and he gets dragged back into reality. "There's Baklava?"

"And Panipuri." He says, hovering over you. If he thinks about it, he's almost like a little fly... Even his colours matched. With the way you're looking at him, you must have thought of the same thing. "And Custard. And Cakes. And-"

"Oh! Pudding!" You excitedly nab the Padisarah Pudding out of the cooler, clapping. Alhaitham lets out a low chuckle at your delight, reaching over to grab you a teaspoon so you could enjoy your desert.

"Now sit," he tells you, guiding you to the kitchen island, where there was a chair. He had gotten Kaveh to design and make one for you as part of his rental agreement. "You can watch me cook."

"You're not letting me help again?"

He shakes his head. From temporarily stepping down from your work as a researcher, to repeating dreams, and to Alhaitham having to go away for a mission, you had been stressed out from all the back-to-back changes. Only recently had you been discharged from bed rest after the news that he had gone insane from consuming forbidden knowledge and was exiled had caused you to faint in the middle of Treasure Street.

Alhaitham prides himself on his rational decision making skills, but keeping you in the dark to the happenings in Sumeru's political sphere had been by far the worst decision he had ever made.

You had fallen sick, carrying a fever for five days and five nights as the doctors at the Bimarstan worked around the clock to keep you stable. Luck had been on your side for you to have been found by one of the physicians. He had almost...

Alhaitham shakes his head, focusing instead on the metal band around his finger. Cooking was the least he could do for you after everything you had to handle.

Ignoring the pang in his chest, he resumes cooking. The wok sizzles, and you're happily munching away on your pudding, offering him a spoonful here and there as his ingredients go in in a methodological order. He tosses in peeled and boiled tomatoes, spices, and marinated chicken cubes from last night.

"It smells so good..."

"I know."

"But why aren't you making more?" You ask, leaning over so he could feed you a test bite of the creamy dish. "Is Kaveh not coming home for dinner?"

"It's none of our business, habibti," Alhaitham hums. "Kaveh can freeload food elsewhere."

"Haitham," you giggle. "That's not very kind."

"What? Letting him stay here rent-free is kind enough. I don't have to feed him, too."

"You're making him build our nursery," you remind him. "And baby-proof the house."

"It's part of the rental agreement."

"Still," you huff, watching your husband roll up his sleeves before portioning the dough for your naan. "At least leave him some food."

"He can have whatever we can't finish. Can we agree?" He says, rolling the dough out into flat circles. "We have too much food from the people, anyway. He can have those. The Butter Chicken is yours. You don't have to share."

You're swayed.

"...Fine."

He graduated from the Haravatat. To put it loosely, he's a linguist. A knack for words comes with the job.

"Good," he hums, handing you a bowl of melted butter so you wouldn't feel left out. You stir it with a clean spoon, mixing in garlic paste and chopped coriander.

It's peaceful. Serene. The sizzling in the background is nothing but homey, nothing but comfort. Alhaitham loves it when you sing to him while he cooks, but today he settles for a spritely summary of one of the books he's gotten you.

"Thank you, Haitham."

"Of course," he leans over to peck your temple. After serving you a hearty plate, Alhaitham finally sits with you to eat. "Anything you need."

"What would people say if they knew I had the Acting Grand Sage at home like this?"

"They'd praise me," he deadpans. His own plate lightly clinks against the table. "Especially if they knew the main reason why I helped."

"Show-off."

Wanting to keep his cushy job at the Akademiya may have been what had spurred him to take on a core role in the planning of rescuing Lesser Lord Kusanali, but apart from that, he was not about to leave a year's worth of fully-paid, fully covered paternity leave in the hands of some old man that woke up and decided that he wanted to play god.

Even now, it still sounded ridiculous in his head.

Alhaitham and you were only aware that the Grand Sage had something sinister cooking up, but nothing had been concrete. Investigating further was on the top of your priority list until you were faced with the possibility, and eventual confirmation, of your pregnancy.

Being so unexpected, the news had hit the both of you hard and fast. After both of your priorities needed a complete upheaval, it was a scramble to decide the next course of action.

Having you step down from your work as a result of the rough start to your pregnancy had been hard to hide from the prying eyes of Azar, his minions, and gossiping researchers. The walls of the Akademiya had ears. The barest wisps of whatever Azar was planning that had gotten back to you gave you the impression that they had wanted you to join in on the later stages of their scheme.

Recuperation may have been the main motivator, but the likelihood that a blunt rejection would spur on heavy retaliation had been a major reason why you were urged, and convinced, to take a medical leave of absence as early in as possible. As quietly as possible. Your weakened constitution had only spurred the advance of this plan.

Your sudden request for long medical leave had formed the basis of a well-known rumour that you were adamant on not acknowledging, not when you had suspected Alhaitham to be on Azar's hit list. Few knew of your marriage to him, only that you were in a relationship with the Scribe. He can only imagine what types of words were said behind closed doors.

Those days had been tense. Your act—though it wasn't really an act at all—was convincing, but the Sages seemed adamant on having you stay on. They had even questioned Alhaitham about your supposed illness. Half-truths made the best lie, and when Alhaitham only had the truth to tell them, they had no choice but to turn to other avenues.

Thankfully, the rumours had all died out when Tighnari was invited by the Sages to check on you.

Your long-standing friend had done you a favour that day. Under the watchful eye of the sages, the three of you had shared a look that Tighnari easily interpreted. A strongly worded letter of recommendation for medical leave had been issued, and you were immediately granted long leave. The rumours were put out in an instant. On account for your contributions to the Akademiya and to academia itself, your leave had been fully paid for as well.

Alhaitham makes a mental note to send the forest ranger some gifts again after everything dies down. He's been thinking of taking you on a short trip to Pardis Dhyai so you could visit some old classmates and colleagues. Maybe some crates of wine for him and his subordinates would suffice...

"If you revealed everything, I think they'd have a heart attack first," you muse, picking up your spoon. Looking at you now, it's almost as though your pregnancy had been nothing but smooth sailing. You looked so peaceful. Happy and content and glowing.

"I love your cooking," you sigh between bites, taking meaningful chomps out of your meal. Eyes falling shut to savour the taste, Alhaitham can't help but chuckle at the blissed out expression you made.

It's not rare for Alhaitham to cook for you, especially after finding out that you were expecting, but the way your eyes always light up, glimmering with stars? It makes him wonder just how good his food is to you for you to always react like this.

"Good?"

"Mhm!" You nod happily, shoveling the Butter Chicken coated garlic naan into your mouth. The flatbread was cooked to perfection, just the way you liked it. Too busy with your food, you don't even bother with a conversation.

Alhaitham sits back, watching you eat, making sure that his unborn child enjoys his food, too. It was early on in your pregnancy that he realises just how picky his child was. Coupled with morning sickness, any food that wasn't made by him, your body would reject. He had been tense those weeks, pouring over countless texts in the library trying to find a solution that would guarantee both you and your child's safety.

He had tracked your food intake, just to see if there was any sort of pattern that would emerge. To his surprise, one did. The only meals you could hold down were either those made by you, made by those close to you, or his. The latter worked the best. Alhaitham still has that nutrition table in his office, updated to this day.

Really, it's a wonder how people hadn't realised that you were pregnant. After Sumeru's political situation began to calm, he hadn't bothered hiding it. What did people think he ordered maternity dresses for? Even now, the number of people who knew of your pregnancy was few and far between. Cyno, surprisingly, was one of them.

Oh, well.

After seeing that you showed no sign of nausea, he finally picks up his spoon.

"Shall we go for a walk later tonight?" He asks after swallowing a bite of his food. "The weather is nice today."

Before getting swamped by the citizens, he had been thinking that it would be good to bring you out. So far, the only interactions you've had were either with him, the doctors, the stray cats that would visit, or with Kaveh. Although you hadn't complained, he knew that you were getting lonely.

"Really?" You ask excitedly, biting into your coated naan. "Where to?

"Anywhere you want," he says, pouring another ladel full of butter chicken onto your plate. "But we'll take it slow, okay? You haven't been out in some time. I don't want you to overexert yourself."

You chew slowly.

"I'm not weak."

"I never said that."

"You're implying it."

"I did not."

After a bit of back and forth, in which he could tell you were thoroughly enjoying, he remembers something that Housein had told him earlier in the day.

"I believe Miss Nilou is performing tonight. Would you like to watch?"

"Really? I'd love to!" Compared to him, you had always had a deep appreciation for the Arts. It's been some time since you've seen a live performance. Eyes shimmering, you ask, "Can we go get some sweets at the Bazar, too? The baby's been craving it."

You didn't have to pull the cravings card to get it. Alhaitham would have gotten them for you regardless.

"If you'd like," he agrees. "I was thinking that we could get some more books, as well."

"What," you snicker, "the library you have isn't enough for you?"

"It's good to broaden your horizons. And I mean to get books for our child."

"Hm? Why?"

"Aren't you the Amurta scholar?" He quips. Then his voice grows softer. More gentle. "...I read that our child can start hearing in the second trimester."

The look of confusion on your face turns into a fond smile. "I'm not that far along enough, Haitham. That only happens later."

"Better now than never, don't you think?"

"Are you going to be reading to them, then?" You ask, resting your chin on your palm, a smile on your face as you tease him. "Are we going to have bedtime stories now?"

"Of course."

His bluntness takes you off guard, but Alhaitham fails to see how shocking this revelation can be. Why wouldn't he be reading to his child?

"Oh," you say dumbly. "I... Yeah. That's a good idea—Ah!"

Alhaitham's spoon clatters to the table at the sound of your punctured gasp. He's by your side in an instant, looking over you once, twice, thrice, as you hold onto your stomach, eyes blown wide open, pupils dilated.

"W-What?" Adrenaline rushes through his veins. "What's wrong, albi? What's the matter? Are you alright? What hurts? Stay here, I'll call for someone right now-"

"No," you whisper, grabbing his hand to stop him from running off. They tremble in your hold, and he swallows tightly past the lump in his throat. You stare silently at your belly, and Alhaitham, at you.

"Albi," he insists. "My love. Don't scare me. C'mon, we need to... go..."

Palm covering his, you guide his hand to your belly.

Alhaitham, the Scribe of Sumeru, the star of the Haravatat, for the first time in forever, is at a loss for words. Every letter and every syllable he's come to learn dissipates on the tip of his tongue, his mind blanking out into nothingness. Within him, synapses fire off rapidly, capturing everything about this moment. Everything refocuses onto what rests below his palm.

There's a tiny flutter. One that grows more insistent.

"Haitham... I think our baby is trying to say hi."

Bimarstan: Hospital in Sumeru Habibti: Term of endearment meaning Darling Albi: Term of endearment meaning My love

A/N: bc of this fic i'll have to make a new masterlist and update my pinned aaaaaaa okay goodbye it's time for me to return to my studies (and to gojo) [i say this but tell me why i wanna write about the time cyno found alhaitham at the bimarstan with reader...]

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