Chapter Text
David wakes up to someone on top of him, noses not touching though he thinks -if it did not make the man go cross-eyed- their noses would be touching.
He waits, staring up at a man who is frankly beaming down at him.
Brown eyes, brown hair, -quick look down- not naked but wearing flowy colourful garments that look more like curtains than clothes.
He has never seen this man before in his life- which is actually a good sign. It means this man shouldn’t want to kill him.
"You don't get much sleep, do you?" The man eventually states, reaching out and poking at where David knows he has physical evidence of his lack of sleep.
"Get off." He demands, shoving the man to the side and earning the sound of a high-pitched squeak. He blames his pause before shoving the man off him on his tired state, the man being correct and David lacking sleep. He had thought coming here, hiding here, would help with that but apparently not. Not when there is a brightly-coloured man here who has no concept of personal space.
Swift as setting fire he picks up his knives and flings himself against the nearest wall, eyeing the suspicious man that was touching him in his sleep. (I mean, who does that? Some kind of colourful clown creep? No. He looks too put-together to be a creep, too at home despite David having weapons and him having none. -that are visible.)
Perhaps he's a caster? Not that would be just his luck. A gosh darn caster finds him and he's turned into a crispy David sooner than he can blink.
But then why hasn't he roasted him already?
So many questions and none of them answered when the man raises both hands and David tenses, preparing for some kind of spell that doesn't come.
"Calm. I was just saying." The man explains, smiling because he's clearly unaware David can and will throw his knives at him.
He doesn't throw the knives though, keeping in position to do so, but watching as the mysterious man that doesn't LOOK like an officer or enforcer or knight steps closer and throws out his hand, announcing, "I'm Clark."
"Cool." David mutters and just lets the hand hang there. He wants to shake it- he really does- because his gut tells him the clown in front of him is good and trustworthy- as trustworthy as anyone can be these days- but his gut has got him in a lot of bad situations before so...yeah, he's going to hold back on trusting it.
Clark looks hurt- with an openness that is frightening- but he takes it in his stride, walking away and exposing his back to David.
Training- Muscle-memory- a dark urge- instinct- Whatever you'd like to call it, it grips David by the shoulders and shouts at him to strike. But he doesn't. For the same unknown reasons that have kept him from running.
Clark- If that is his real name- goes to a pile of armour that David kicks himself for not noticing instantly upon waking up, and picks the pieces up, attempting to put them on.
They are nice- looks like good metal and it doesn't look too damaged- but David thinks how bulky and noisy the entire thing is and cringes.
"A little help?" Clark asks, voice high and hopeful as he tries to tighten the leather straps. How he ever got this off without waking David up must be some kind of miracle.
Against his better judgement David actually does remove his back from the wall and go to help, sheathing his knives halfway to the buffoon.
"Stop, stop!" He instructs Clark, the man he has just met, slapping his hand away as he takes over adjusting everything. See this- and many other reasons- is why most knights have squires.
Glancing at Clark's face, admittedly fairly attractive, David sees him beaming, apparently proud of his convincing.
That makes David immediately regret his choices. Clark was not all that convincing, he just felt sorry for him. That's not the same thing.
"I want to join you." Clark admits, revealing why exactly he was on top of David when they first met.
David pretends not to hear, making a point to pull a little too hard to one side so Cark stumbles slightly, metal plates clanking together like an entire pantry has tipped over in a cacophony of annoying but satisfying noise.
"I work alone." David says. He had meant for it to come out sort of cool but the second he hears his words he cringes.
"Okay. Work alone. And with me." Clark hums, apparently not put off by David's refusal.
For a second David considers that this man is really an idiot but, with all his smarts, he senses there's something more there. It's like a cockroach. This Clark is like a cockroach. He just won't stop.
"You are not going to drop this, are you?" David has to ask, stepping back to see if he's missed anything.
Clark shakes his head, hair flopping about and reminding David of a dog. It's -admittedly- cute.
Groaning as he reckons with that fact and Clark indicates for David to put on his armour cover for him.-Okay, David may be focusing on not turning tail and dashing over recognising the correct words for everything
Excuse him for his annoyance and fear getting in the way of his technical knowledge.
"Why do you live in an abandoned workhouse by the way? And where am I going to sleep? And is it David and Clark or Clark and David? You know, for when we introduce ourselves."
David seriously considers becoming magical at that moment. He could just..teleport out of this situation. (He does not, however, consider why and how this strange man knew his name. He does not consider that until later that night when he is just about to fall asleep and bolts awake, shouting the suspicious knight’s name.)
"Okay, we're going to practice quiet fingers, okay?" He decides on saying instead, directing Clark's finger to his lip and shushing him. It worked on him when he was a kid, it will work on this man.
Apparently his talking is contagious- or maybe David is finally letting it all out now he has someone to talk to- but he can't help but ask, "Why do you want to work with me?"
He can think of many reasons why Clark WOULDN'T want to work with him:
He's technically a criminal.
He sleeps in the aforementioned abandoned workhouse.
He can't sleep most nights.
He is quite often annoyed.
He is snappy.
But no reasons why he would want to be with him- He means work with him.
Clark answers the question as easily as breathing though, shrugging as David uselessly brushes off some dust from his overwear.
"You have cool knives."