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It was undeniable that Corvo and Daud had two very distinct definitions of fun, for they were two very different types of people, as much as they did not look totally the part. Daud always preferred the calm and collected ones, such as chess or a good book with a decent coffee or whiskey; Corvo, on the other hand, was a wild card, and his fun times amounted to showing off his Whalers on their obstacle course, hitting the bars with Slackjaw and Geoff, or organizing a breaking and entering in another noble’s home – be it for oblique ways of finding incriminating evidence, petty revenge or simple for fun.
Yes, the Royal Protector of the Empress was that crazy.
And unfortunately for Daud, he had found out early in their unusual and puzzling collaboration that ended up with him becoming the Spymaster and his Whalers being employed by the Crown, that he had precious feelings for the man. So when the man smiled, the sort of stupid, unbothered smile that made Daud’s ribs ache with something way too close to fondness, before launching himself down the parapet of the roof a few streets away from where their target was, Daud huffed a breath that was way too close to a laugh, and followed suit.
“Came on, “ the man-child had said, pitch black eyes shining with the mirth and mischief he only had when his brilliant mind had concocted another hairbrained scheme of his, “This will be so fun!”
He said as a dare, like he needed the incentive to go along with whatever Corvo was thinking – he did not, and not even the teasing smirks he could see under those masks and the silent remark he could hear in his people’s minds could make him reconsider his stance on the matter. He had just sighed, long suffering, shifted aside his paperwork – he was pretty sure that if Thomas was someone else, he would have tried to kill him by now – took his coat, emblazoned with the symbol of the Crown above his heart, and left following the other man.
So, here he was, stepping over a random parapet in the middle of the night, and landing a heartbeat later, more deliberate, calculating which ridge would carry weight and which would betray a man, while Corvo raised from his cruch with the same grace of a Pandyssian cat – the bastard.
“Careful,” Daud said, because it was what he always said, and because it sounded better than the list of plans he’d been running through for the last ten heartbeats. Corvo only laughed, a sound that had once been sharp as a blade and now felt dangerously like permission – if to throttle him or kiss him, Daud did not know and did not care; he usually did both anyway.
“Noted,” Corvo replied, breathless and ridiculous, eyes bright. “Now run.”
They ran. Corvo moved like a shadow that forgot it was supposed to be quiet, cutting corners, vaulting over an old chimney, laughing when a loose slate rattled and someone below swore – and still, impossibly, a ghost in the night of Dunwall. Daud kept to the less obvious line, stepping where a careful eye would not notice, but he found himself shortening the distance between them until their shoulders brushed and it felt, absurdly, exactly like the right place to be.
When they dropped onto another roof, just above the servants’ quarters, Corvo crouched, grin broad enough to split his face. He slapped Daud’s shoulder with a hand that was half greeting and half dare. “See? Fun.”
Daud could have argued, or said a dozen other sensible things – could have pointed the guards the bodyguard almost tipped, the plans he knew better Corvo would not follow just to see the chaos unfolding – instead got him by the lapel of his coat before he could slip the skull mask that still terrorized half of Dunwall’s population and was idozed by the other, and kissed him, hard and fast, listening to the humming of the other man and feeling the smile against his own lips. “Not the word I’d used, bodyguard. But okay.”
And let himself in the villa, unseen and still smiling.