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The first thing that Malark felt was the presence of something sharp and burning in his ribs that absolutely should not be there.
Swallowing, he grabbed at the wound with one hand. Looked down. An elbow slammed into his jaw. Then, he was knocked backwards. Slim, calloused fingers wrapped around his wrist. Yanking him forwards, his opponent slammed their blade into his stomach again. They ripped it out a second later, twisted it a little more than what was necessary. He didn’t have much time to complain about it, though.
The next thing he knew, a knee was slamming up into his stomach. Once, then again, then a third time. Grunting, Malark tried to shove them off. Their fingers locked in his hair, he was being yanked down again, and this time their knee found its target in his face. Wincing, he staggered back. Reached out blindly for them. When he opened his eyes, he managed to find their face.
Slamming a heel down on the arch of their foot, he wheeled around, smashed his own elbow into their nose—and maybe felt a spike of triumph as their nose cracked at the hit. Grabbing his knives, he drove one into their shoulder and the other into the soft spot right above their hip. Then, he threw his weight forwards. Slammed them into the brick and concrete wall behind them. They grunted, and he drove the blades deeper.
Leaning close, he hissed, “Who the hell are you?” They stared down at him. Scoffed once. Tipped their head to the side.
“You really don’t know why, do you?” With that, they grabbed his head. Leaned back and cracked their forehead against his nose. Their foot found a target in his stomach, right where the injury was. Then, they shoved. Grunted as Malark’s knives were ripped loose of their skin. He was forced to the ground, arm twisted behind him. A steel-toed boot slammed into the back of his knee. Immediately, Malark was sent to the ground. Cobblestone road smashed into his face. Sucking in a gasp as his arm was jerked uncomfortably back, he tried to get a proper look. Wet heat spilled over his stomach. His other hand was soon trapped by the other person’s boot. “Now that was a mistake.” Twisting their heel, they grinned as his fingers were ground into the stone. Mouth drawn into a thin line, Malark flinched as his fingers started to bend and snap under the person’s weight.
Coughing, Malark glanced around. He couldn’t expect a rescue. They were in the back of an alley and none of his friends were in sight. Of course they weren’t, he’d told them that he was going to be checking out a bookstore. And Paddy wouldn’t be looking for him, either. He was probably in bed by then, absolutely exhausted from the past couple of weeks of travel and fighting and magic, fight, magic, fight, rinse and repeat until their hands were bleeding and cracked from constant cleaning and their skin was rubbed raw.
“They’re already out looking for me. I guarantee it.” He said. Winced as the person dug their heel into the small of his back. Bit past a yelp as they broke his fingers even more.
“Mhmm. Of course they are. But they’re going to be checking in the exact opposite direction of here, Dundragon. After all, they think you’re going to be going to a bookstore to find something for the wizards. Not to go and take out another baddie. Am I right or am I right?” Malark’s gaze darted to the lines in the street beneath him. There was hay between the cracks. Huffing, they said, “Looks like I hit it spot on. Are you really still ashamed of your past, Dundragon? Come on. It’s not like you can escape it, now can you?” They crouched down, grabbed something from their belt with one hand.
That was the opening Malark needed.
Twisting, feeling his hand protest and his other shoulder scream as it popped out of place, Malark grabbed them by the belt and threw his weight to the side. They went tumbling from his back. Immediately, he threw himself on top of them. Grabbed for his knives and drove both of them at the person’s face. Ignored the burning pain forcing its way through his injuries and nerves. He could compartmentalize at any rate, anyways. He would be fine.
“No, but I can escape you.” He said, driving his knife into their throat. Choking, they latched onto his other wrist. Squeezed once.
And pain shot through Malark’s nerves.
Crying out, he dropped to the side as various cuts and slashes wound their way along his skin up his arms. More opened up under his clothes, and he gasped in pain. Curled up for a second. His attacker was lying on the cobblestone, twitching and jerking with a knife driven through their throat. Dark spots danced in Malark’s vision for a second, and he laid there sucking in uneven, rasping breaths. Eventually, though, they stopped twitching. He got control over his limbs again. So, slowly, he reached over. Grabbed the knife. Ripped it out of their body and then shoved himself up. As he did, the dark spots returned.
Reaching over, he braced a hand on one of the wooden supports along the wall. Closed his eyes for a second. Turning, Malark sucked in a breath and started limping towards the inn they were staying at. As he did, he took in his injuries. He was covered in blood, both his own and the other’s. This is going to be fun to explain, he groaned mentally, rolling his eyes as he stumbled along the path. I’m totally going to be able to get away with this.
Part of him really, really wanted to curl up and go to sleep. But, as he hauled himself up the back side of the inn, grimacing at the pain rattling through his bones, Malark mused that he would be fine. He could take care of himself. And then he could curl up in bed with Paddy and sleep.
He literally dropped through the window.
When he thumped against the floor, he heard movement. Immediately, he shoved himself upright. Looked around. Frantic, he closed the window, wrapped his cloak around himself to hide his wounds, and shut off the lights. Then, he sat down on the bed and started stripping off his shoes.
The door opened.
Looking up, dropping one of his boots on the floor, Malark met Paddy’s gaze. “Oh. Hi.” Yawning, Paddy walked over and sat down heavily next to him. He quickly stripped off his shoes and outer clothes as well, looked over at him. Then, he paused and looked Malark up and down. “Is that blood?”
And that was when Malark remembered Paddy was a wood elf.
Wood elves had dark vision.
More importantly, Paddy had dark vision.
Swallowing, Malark immediately forced out, “It’s for sexy reasons.” And then he immediately slapped a hand over his face, staring down at the floor. Paddy stared back at him for a second. Then, Paddy slowly took a breath.
“And?” He said.
“And also I just got stabbed.” Malark said, looking down at the floor.
“MA LarK!”
Wincing, Malark hunched over. Hell hath no fury like a boyfriend scorned. And Malark was not in the mood to sleep alone that night and Paddy absolutely would sleep on the floor when he was mad enough.
Speaking of Paddy, he immediately got up and wandered over to their bags where they were sitting on the bench in the closet. As he did, he kept ranting. “I knew we were going to need this I am so glad that we were able to convince Zada to—no, not we were. I did it. I’m glad I know that you— “ He turned and pointed at Malark, eyebrows raised indignantly, “—are a handsome idiot and was able to think ahead for once.” Grabbing the med kit, he strode back over and dropped down beside Malark.
“I’m handsome?” Malark rasped, trying to lighten the mood. Leaning in, Paddy laughed and rested his forehead against Malark’s, eyes closed.
“You are handsome. A handsome idiot .” It was a fond tone, and Malark smiled for half a second. Then, a hand planted on his shoulder. He was shoved back down on the bed. “Lay down. I’ll fix this. Just take your shirt off.” Malark looked at him. “Don’t give me that look just do it.”
Laughing, Malark pulled his shirt off. Paddy looked at him, shook his head and carded a hand through Malark’s hair, and commented about him being an idiot again.
+++
“You know you’re an idiot.” Paddy commented, arms pillowing his head as he looked at Malark.
Lying on his back, Malark hummed. Rested his bandaged arm across his stomach. There was knocking at the door. Both of them looked up to see Brio dragging Mina inside. “See, I told you they were—“ Brio stared at them both, frowning. “What are you doing?” Mina just held up her hands in a helpless shrug.
Glancing over at Malark, Paddy turned, asked, “What do you mean?”
“You two sounded like you were doing—“ Brio started making gestures. Some were a fair bit more lewd than others. Then, Paddy and Malark shared a look. Smiling, Paddy held his gaze.
“You should have told me we were having fun, I would have cast something to make sure we weren’t disturbed.”