Chapter Text
Oh, not again, Kaveh thinks, seeing an order ping on his app.
He bites down the annoyance that rushes through him as he reads the details.
Alhaitham Bahati is the bane of Kaveh's part-time Doridashing career. He gives excellent tips. But any time he finds fault in Kaveh's delivery methods — and he always does, somehow — he also leaves a 3-star review.
Can Kaveh, financially, live on 3 stars? Absolutely. Can he, morally, conceptually, philosophically, accept anything like mediocrity when he has high-achiever inclinations? No. Hell, no.
This month has become a test of Kaveh's patience. Just last week, Alhaitham ordered skewers from a food stall in the bazaar — five minutes before said food stall was set to close. And he had extremely specific, bizarre instructions, to boot.
("News flash," Kaveh said after Alhaitham chastised him for failing to confirm that five grams of spices, precisely, were used for each skewer, "you're lucky you even got your ridiculous order. The stall owner yelled at me over it!"
"And how is that my concern?" Alhaitham had answered. He even frowned, as if Kaveh's words were a great bother to him. "You accepted the order. It's your job to fulfill it.")
Kaveh is certain that today's order will be at least as absurd as the last. It's been true thus far. And seeing the instructions now, he's proven right.
Kaveh walks into Puspa Café five minutes later, feet shuffling, and knows he's about to look and feel like an absolute fool.
"Pickup for Bahati," he says when he reaches the counter. The short man working the register scowls.
"Oh. That guy." He shakes his head. "Who the hell orders dessert if they don't even like sweet foods? It's a waste of money." He waves a hand before Kaveh can even attempt to answer. "And that lazy grease pupa doesn't even bother picking it up himself. It'd be so satisfying to see his reaction when he realizes he's banned, but no. He keeps getting dashers to do his dirty work."
"Wait, what?" Now Kaveh's invested, curiosity peaked. "He's banned from the premises?"
"Ah. No," the employee answers. Kaveh sees a name badge on him, but it's entirely unhelpful, with 'HAT GUY' written on it in all caps and a purple cat pin blocking the bottom half entirely. "But he's not allowed to order anything."
"Why?" Wait, can he even be ordering with Doridash, then? Has Kaveh unwittingly gotten himself involved in something illicit?
"Because we all hate his guts. Except the boss. She thinks his orders are the funniest thing she's ever seen, so she goes out of her way to make them herself." Hat Guy grabs a container from the fridge behind him. "Here. Get it out of my sight."
Kaveh does. He follows the winding paths of Sumeru City uphill — up-tree, technically, since the streets follow the Great Tree's trunk, more or less — and admires the way the late afternoon sunshine dapples the pavement in gold-flecked splendor through the tree's leaves.
Kaveh makes the trip to his customer's doorstep with a pep in his step. And the moment Alhaitham answers his knock, Kaveh bursts into a grin. He can't help it — at least he's not the only victim to Alhaitham's special breed of torment in town.
"Low-sugar padisarah pudding with no padisarah syrup." Kaveh practically shoves the plastic container and its jiggly contents into Alhaitham's hands. "Did you know that Puspa Café's staff hates you? Because they made certain I did."
"I'm not surprised, if that's what you're getting at," Alhaitham replies. "After all, they have yet to succeed at even my simpler requests."
O-kay. Now Kaveh just feels bad for the poor employees.
"Why did the rose petals slip off?" Alhaitham asks. Kaveh rolls his eyes.
"It's gelatin. Ever hear of viscosity?"
Alhaitham snorts. "Here." He extends his hand; within his palm is a solid stack of mora.
"Is that my tip?"
"If you take it within the next two seconds, yes."
Well, when he makes it sound so threatening… Kaveh wastes no time snatching the coins up.
"Thank you."
"You, too." Alhaitham glances down once, then sucks in a breath. "You…" He shakes his head. "Never mind. See ya."
The door closes in Kaveh's face, like always, but he counts the coins with a weight off his shoulders. And later that night, he finally gets what he's been fighting for, tooth and nail, all month:
A five star review.
★★★★★
Acceptably delivered. If only Kaveh's customer service was consistent.
Those words are, for all intents and purposes, an act of war.
"Do you enjoy seeing me that much?" Alhaitham asks him after the third delivery of the day.
"Why are you asking me? You're the one ordering!"
"And you always pick up said orders."
Kaveh rolls his eyes. "I don't choose which ones are pushed to me. That's done through the app."
"Which you helped design," Alhaitham points out. "But I digress. It's clear you're dodging the question."
"I am not—!" Kaveh resists the urge to stomp his foot. He is not a toddler. But he can sympathize with anyone else this man has driven to tantrums. "Yes, I'm one of the top dashers, but you're one of the top customers. Of course the app prioritizes both."
Alhaitham nods. Kaveh's eyes narrow, suspicious.
"I see you've given us some thought, then."
Us. Us? "There's no us. Just a job. Speaking of which…" Kaveh holds out the bag of wine in front of him. "Show me your I.D., please."
"You're carding me?" Alhaitham, lounging as he is in the doorway of his home, is all glowy post-workout skin and toned muscles. Like he's been plucked right out of a body builder magazine. "I clearly am of drinking age."
"Company policy," Kaveh answers, plastering on the most obnoxious smile he can without it veering too far off into obvious distaste. "You understand."
"I don't. In fact, it's a waste of both your time and mine."
"Making assumptions isn't something scholars are in the habit of doing, though, is it? So why should I?"
At that, Alhaitham laughs. It's a quick chuckle, almost more like a series of shallow huffs, but it causes Kaveh's brain to seize up momentarily.
"Well, then, I'll have to go fetch my wallet. I'll be right back."
Kaveh comes back to his senses after Alhaitham's door slams in his face for the third time today.
Gods, he thinks, why are all the good-looking ones assholes? It isn't fair!
Alhaitham, for all his sharp angles and sculpted muscles, is not someone Kaveh could ever get along with. The way he phrases things... It just rubs Kaveh the wrong way.
He'll give him credit where credit is due, though: Alhaitham is unusually bright. Not just any scholar can secure housing so close to the Akademiya. Regardless of what he researches for a living, his mind must be extremely valuable in his field.
A pity that nowhere in that brain of his is there an ounce of human decency. Or pleasant interaction, for that matter — this evening's exchange has been the most mild one they've ever had to date.
(Not that Kaveh keeps track of that sort of thing. He just prides himself on his good memory, that's all. And he can't help himself, half the time, when Alhaitham continuously provokes him!)
When Alhaitham returns, opening the door once more, he's got a form of identification. But not his license, or a government i.d. No — he's holding a plain green passport, emblazoned with the Akademiya's sigil.
Kaveh stares. This is too much. "You can't be serious."
"You didn't specify the type of identification you required. Besides, this has all the information you should need."
Of course he's right. And Kaveh also knows the other man is being pedantic for the hell of it. He must derive some twisted sort of pleasure from pushing people around.
Well, fine. He wins this round — Kaveh's got to get back to work sooner rather than later. Bills won't pay themselves. He takes the passport and eyes the details carefully.
"You're twenty-five," he notes. Smirks up at Alhaitham, handing it back along with his alcohol. "That's two years younger than me. What Darshan were you in?"
"Haravatat. You?"
"Kshahrewar." Kaveh pauses halfway through reaching for his tip. "Wait, I didn't tell you I went to the Akademiya."
Alhaitham does not roll his eyes, but he may as well have, with the look he sends his way. "You're the only delivery driver who isn't half-brainless."
Ah… What a back-handed compliment. It makes Kaveh's stomach all squirmy. "Well, you're the only customer who's absurdly picky. It's a nuisance."
"There's a difference between being a nuisance and being fastidious. I'm simply the latter."
"Why not both?" Kaveh grumbles.
"Speak louder, senior, I can't hear you clearly."
"I said good evening!" Kaveh snaps, turning and stomping away.
"Good evening," Alhaitham calls after him. Kaveh does not look back over his shoulder to see the way his silhouette looks in the lit doorway. He does not.
What he does do is shriek into a pillow later that night when he sees Alhaitham's four-star review.
★★★★☆
Smooth deliveries all day. No complaints. Be aware he may insult you to your face.
Honestly, Kaveh can't be furious about that one… He walked right into it. But he is still absolutely mortified.
Ugh. He hates Alhaitham Bahati. Completely, immutably, hates him.