Log: Clark & Daniel Who: Clark & Daniel When: January 2. Where: Zener School, Gym What: A workout turns philosphical.
Daniel really hoped the park near the church would open again soon so he could run there as opposed to through town or at the Zener school. Running was his time usually and he enjoyed it. He'd tried to fun a few times through town or through its suburbs, but with the ice and cars and the like, running at Zener was just safer. He hadn't really wanted to do that, but so be it. He'd run at the school a few days earlier too and had met Quinn and it hadn't been so bad. It had been a good workout even. Maybe today he'd see if he could use the inside gym since classes weren't going on. He really needed to see about a gym membership one of these days.
Thinking that deciding to not go to the gym on the journals would be enough of a deterrent to keep people from coming down to the gym, Clark headed on over, his poor excuse for a duffel bag in his hand. It was a change of clothes in a grocery paperbag. He didn't need to actually get a real bag - it wasn't like he was going across town to use the gym. Having stowed the change of clothes in an open locker, Clark stretched out for a few seconds before jumping onto a treadmill. Wasn't the same as running outside, but he much preferred the temperature-controlled environment to anything else currently available to him.m He was thinking of the next few days' recipes and meals, wondering when he'd have a spare moment to talk to Lisa.
Parking his car, Daniel debated going inside to see the gym or to just go and run outside like he had the other day. He much preferred running outside, even though it was cold. The cold decided it and he headed to the gym. If he couldn't use it then that was fine, he'd just go back to his original plan of running outside. Someone else was using the gym and as he got closer, Daniel realized it was Clark. Waving slightly he set his waterbottle and towel down off to one side and sat on a mat to stretch. He hoped he wasn't interrupting anything.
Glancing up - since Clark had no such thing as an iPod or anything like that, really - at the noise, he managed a little wave. Ah well, what did he expect? That no one would want to use the gym? It wasn't like people didn't have New Year's Resolutions and stuff. He snickered a bit to himself, realizing that all the people that kept them usually didn't need them in the first place. Like Daniel and Clark in the gym. No one was going to have to remove the side of a house to get either one out and onto a talk show any time soon. His speed allowed Clark a lazy sort of stride, not nearly as close to running as it would be soon. "How's it hangin'?" He said loud enough so that Daniel could hear him. Whoops, probably the wrong thing to say to a priest. "Er, hey." There, he covered himself quite nicely.
There was actually precious little that could be said to Daniel to offend him unless someone began disrespecting his personal choices for his life or perhaps his family. While he didn't like people disrespecting the church, even he had to admit there had been some spectacular blunders over the course of history and they did sometimes come back to bite them. "Hey," Daniel replied, not breaking from stretching, "Mind if I work out too?" he was thinking about using the machines since he was here instead of running. He could run later or outside or something. It would depend on how he felt after he worked with the weights.
Daniel wasn't a weight lifter per se, he much preferred running or playing sports, though he tried to balance it all out. He'd run a triathlon earlier in the year for his birthday and he enjoyed marathons and long distance running. Vaguely, he was considering another triathlon, but he wasn't sure yet. He was clad again in his back Northwestern sweat pants and black CTU sweatshirt, that was what he typically wore in the winter to work out in. It was comfortable.
"Naah, help yourself," Clark said. He didn't own the gym, and since their last little confrontation, Clark was beginning to like the priest a little more. Not enough to really hang out with him on a regular basis, but Clark wasn't going to blow up at Daniel...again. He didn't know the places where the other's schools were from, but that probably the way it should be. "Think there'd be more people in here," Clark noted, loud enough for Daniel to hear. There wasn't much conversation usually had in the gym, and as his finger pressed on the elevation button, he figured he'd be huffing and puffing soon enough, cutting off anything he could say after that.
"Nah, it's January 2," Daniel replied, "Resolutions are generally already broken," he got up from the mat and headed over to a weight bench, picking up a dumbell and using it to work on his shoulders. He kept count in his head, "At least if the resolution was to work out more. If you're already in the habit then it's no big thing," reaching a count in his head he traded hands to repeat the motion.
He snorted, nodding his head. When he saw Daniel head over to the weight area, running wasn't all that interesting anymore. Maybe he'd be able to get a spotter that wouldn't have a power freak out and drop the barbell on Clark's head. He slowed the machine down, declining the apparatus and walking until the thing had slowed down to a stop. Hopping off, Clark used his shoulder to swipe at the sweat on his forehead. It wasn't much, since he wasn't doing all that much exercising to really work up a sweat. "Yeah, if you're already in the groove, it'll be easy to stick with it." Clark wondered idly if that body builder Yes would come back and live in the gym since he'd been gone for the whole break. He eyed the weight that Daniel was lifting and picked up the ones beside the empty spaces, one size down. He didn't have anything to prove, and no sense in hurting himself to try and look like a big man. "Your power's not going to freak out with me over here, is it?" Sometimes keeping track of everyone's powers was a tedious process. Easier to ask than try and remember.
"Unlikely," Daniel replied, "I'm an omnilinguist. I think the worst that might happen is I reply in Spanish," which wouldn't be the first timehe'd done something like that unintentionally and that was without his powers going wacky. When he was working with another language he had a tendency to reply in it even when spoken to in English. Daniel wasn't a body builder, but he had some decent muscle, long and wiry. "Do you play sports too or just enjoy working out?" After their last meeting, Daniel didn't want to anger Clark and it was sometimes hard to read the other man, though they had gotten along well recently on the journals.
"Then I guess if I look at you with a weird expression, you'll know you're talking in Spanish," Clark said with a smirk, sitting down on the edge of the bench, pushing the weights over his head, twisting them to be parallel with his head as he finished the motion with them over his head. He knew what he was doing, but he would be at a loss for words if anyone ever asked what muscles he was actually using. He knew it felt good, and his arms were tired after the fact, which was a good thing when it came to weights. "Once in a while I'll play a pick up game. But since I've been here, haven't been much of an opportunity. I mean, besides the kidnapping, I have to be careful who I'm around." Around the wrong person and a fun game could end up dangerous. "I like working out - been doing it for a while. Good to release energy." Especially with Clark's temper. He figured he probably started getting his muscles when his father taught him how to ballroom dance, but that wasn't something he was going to confess.
"Same here," Daniel switched arms again, he liked to switch arms instead of resting between reps, "Not the abilities bit, but not having the opportunity with the holidays. I'm thinking I might join a gym or see if there's an intramural league for old fogeys somewhere around here for the spring. Shuffleboard maybe or extreme pinocle," he joked. "Ever try a marathon? If you like running. Those are fairly solitary," well, there were usually several thousand other runners in Daniel's experience, but it wasn't a team sport or anything like that.
"Heh," Clark exhaled, twisting the weights around, looking over at Daniel as he played the old man card. "They have have extreme watching the leaves change. But I think grass growing is a prereq for it." His lips darted up in a smile, figuring he could mention paint drying, but figured that he'd said enough. Any more and Daniel may think he was digging. Clark shook his head. "Naah, I don't think I have the stamina or patience for a marathon. I mean, it's cool that some people do it, but I can't imagine running for that long. Have you done any?" Clark figured Daniel had since he recommended them, but his interest was piqued.
"A couple," he replied, "Chicago has a few marathons through the year and I've run some of them over the years. Never finished first or anything, but I finished," which in itself wasn't too shabby. Some of them were for charities and he would collect money from the parishioners and the like and then run. He liked it, "I like them, but they are not for everyone. Have to be careful you don't hurt yourself, it's very easy to get injured when you are running for so long," then again, it was just like anything else. Too much of it was bad. "What sports do you like then?"
"Well, I don't think it's all that important to finish first. I mean, out of thousands of people, I'd be lucky not to get trampled." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Whoops. Hopefully that wasn't a soft spot, considering what had happened in New York City the night before. "I'd probably need a lot of training and stuff before I did something like that." At least it was something to think about. "I like being active. I used to play a lot of basketball and tackle football with my friends. Don't see a lot of that happening here, though." He wasn't too down on himself any more, but there were more adjustments for him at the school than maybe others. "Which is why I'm coming to the gym and stuff. Don't want a gut, especially with all the stuff that Lisa makes me sample before everyone else gets to eat it."
"I haven't met Lisa, but I heard she's a great cook," Daniel replied. He kept the news of her potential engagement to himself not knowing if Clark knew or not. Daniel assumed he did, but he also knew what assume spelled. "Running a marathon isn't really a contact sport. Everyone sort of just...makes room for each other. So people don't get trampled. And there are medics and whatnot all along the path so if you are hurt or something, they can get you to safety pretty quick," he understood about being active. He had been all his life and to be forced to sit still didn't always work so well. He liked learning, but he had to move too. It was actually one of the reasons he liked being a priest, he was always on the move from place to place and person to person.
"Yeah, and she's a real good person too. I...had a whole lot of anger when I first got here. I never knew I was a psychic until she and Jayne came into an electronics store in the mall. And I was security then so I was watching a guy who was rippin' the store off and suddenly Jayne went all crazy with his technopathy stuff." Clark shrugged, as best he could with forty pounds over his head. "So she got me to come here and got me a job in the kitchen. So...she helped me," Clark's words petered out, focusing on the reps and listening to Daniel, nodding his head. "Well, that's good to know, but not any time soon. You said it yourself, right? I'm young and got plenty of time."
Daniel nodded and changed positions to work a different muscle group. He wasn't so great with anatomy either, but he knew some muscles. The ones everyone seemed to know, "She sounds pretty awesome," Daniel said with a grunt. This was perhaps too much weight. Setting it down and choosing a lower weight, Daniel continued, "Yeah. Don't you hate being told that? 'You have plenty of time' or 'Wait until you're older' makes me wonder how old is old enough? We could die tomorrow and then what sort of time do we have? Not enough. I'm not trying to push you to do something you're not ready for, I'm just thinking out loud. The only thing worse than 'you're too young' is 'you're too old,'" as much as he would sometimes rag on his age, Daniel didn't feel old at all. The number was old though, at least in his mind. Thirty was old until he had turned thirty himself and now it didn't seem that way. Funny how things were sometimes.
"Well, I dunno if I'll ever be ready to run a marathon, time or not." Clark liked smoking, when he had the chance to do it, and even thought it probably wasn't as harmful for him given the amount he smoked, but he was sure that marathon runners didn't smoke at all, anything. "Well, I guess as long as I'm not thirty and throwing down Magick cards with people half my age, I should be doin' alright." Clark didn't know how long he planned on staying at the school, but there was probably time enough to think about it. "Not real sure what I want to do when I'm older, but I guess I've got some options. And time..." Clark set down his weights and pulled his arm behind his neck, tapping his hand against his shoulder. "When did you realize you wanted to be a priest? If...that's not too personal."
"Not at all," Daniel set his weights down too, this was not really a conversation to have while counting reps. "I was about 19. I wasn't sure, but I thought maybe. And I discussed it with the campus Priest for the Catholic Center at Northwestern," his pants, "I had taken a theology class and a philosophy class that had touched on philosophy of religion and was definitely interested. But it's a big commitment. I decided if I could not date for the semester, I'd go further. Ended up switching my major to philosophy and applied for seminary my senior year of college. It's recommended that you not have sex for three years before you go to seminary, to make sure you can. And it wasn't easy, but I did. Everyone kept saying 'but you're so young!'" Daniel shrugged, "Like old priests weren't young once? I played a hell of a lot of soccer during those years. If I wasn't meant to do this, I wouldn't have made those three years in college. Now, I don't know what I'd do if I wasn't a priest. How old are you?" Daniel asked personal question for personal question.
"So, the whole sex thing...that's all forms of sex, right?" Clark wasn't winning any awards or setting any records, but sometimes a guy just had to get his rocks off. "I'm nineteen, but I don't think I'll be going into the priesthood. I'm thinkin' if maybe I can do this kitchen thing for a while, learn from Lisa as much as I can, then...." Clark shrugged, not sure if he really wanted to share his plans. "Well, if I can find the start up, it'd be nice to open a food kitchen. I ate in a...few when I was younger, and the food wasn't all that good. I mean, breads and soup and shit - but I never want to eat pimento sandwiches again. Ever. But I don't think a lot of people who work at those things know what it's like to be on the other end. Why are big meals, things that're actually good, only on Thanksgiving and Christmas? I always thought that was bullshit. Yeah, money and funds, workers, alla that are an issue, but why not try to make people who eat at those places with hard times feel like they aren't eating plastic that the trays are made of?" Clark was talking a lot, maybe too much. So he just shut his mouth and put the weights back in their racks.
"It's not for everyone," Daniel acknowledged, it wasn't for most people. If it was, there would be a lot fewer Catholics in general! "I think that's a pretty awesome idea. Maybe make something nutritious, not just edible. I've never had to eat at one, but I've worked at a few and I always wondered if PB&J was the best they could do. How can a person have the energy to work or find a job or what they need on a PB&J and an apple? Maybe it works if you're a kid," Daniel shrugged. He really liked Clark's idea. "Everyone loves the sex question," he chuckled, "No sex. At all. Not beating off in the shower or anything. And blow jobs, hand jobs, rim jobs...all sex. Doesn't matter if you're gay or straight, if it is sex, then it is not allowed."
"Yeah, you're right. I mean, why the heck would someone think my dad who spent years on the booze train after Mom left us and even if he needed a job - he had one, a lock smith and then some other stuff on the side - be filled up with a sandwich? But whatever, and I don't think kids want to eat the same things their parents want. And obesity is more prevalent in the poorer classes because there's a dollar menu you at McDonald's but not at a salad bar." Clark had managed to not get the weight gain, but that was because he was either fighting, running, or not hungry. Plus the cigarettes he smoked when he was younger. The air exhaled from his nostrils like a bull's, trying to calm himself down. He shook his head, eyes going a little wide. "Rim jobs? Really?" He chuckled at that, putting his other arm behind his neck and stretching it out. "I didn't think that constituted as sex, but I'm nineteen." And being a teen, one that was healthy, at least, jacking off was on his list of 'To Dos' like showering and wearing clothes. "What about wet dreams? You can't control those, though. I mean, you don't whip yourself with lashes or anything, right?" That sounded painful. "You think you could spot me?" The gym session didn't really seem like a gym session, but a spotter would be nice.
"Sure, where do you want me?" Daniel stood to help, "Just like you said, can't control wet dreams. And anyone that tells you that you should punish or hurt yourself in the name of religion..." that was a subject that could make him very mad. Not mad at Clark, he was only asking a question and that was never something to get mad at, but mad at people that did believe things like that, "God is all loving and merciful. And hurting yourself for God is not how you serve Him. Which isn't to say there aren't some rather confused people out there. There are prayers for penance and forgiveness for things such as wet dreams. God is also all forgiving of the shortcomings of man."
"Gotta load the weight on first. Don't laugh at what I press - I don't want to be some body builder." The rimjob comment was stuck in Clark's mind, the smile refusing to leave. He busied himself adding fifty pounds to one side, then adding the same to the other. "See that's what I don't get about religion. I mean, why would there be a totally vengeful God? Biblewise, yeah, people fuc---screwed up in the garden of eden and stuff, but I always thought that God was like some awesome grandpa. Sure, people do shitty things, maybe steal his pension check or have sex with his nurse or take a couple smokes from his pack, but as long as you apologize, he'd be all 'yeah, come back for breakfast' or something. But maybe that's just me. If I was any religion, I wouldn't be scared of God. God's all about it, you know? He digs on people and when they fuck up? Well, he's sad but he's not gonna throw down a lightning rod at my cock or anything." Clark secured the weights and then slipped onto the pad, hand wrapping around the cool metal. "Just stand over me. If I push too much, make sure you catch it so I don't go all breathless or whatever." He paused, gripping the weight and pushing up gently, just to get a feel for it. "I'll spot you too, if you want." It was only fair.
"No problem," Daniel moved into position to spot for Clark, "It can be argued that people didn't screw up in the Garden though. Sure, Adam and Eve disobeyed God's command, but man was also given free will. It is what separates us from the angels. Man always has a choice. Even in the Garden of Eden, we had a choice. I think I like your Grandpa. That's it exactly. So long as you confess and actually mean it, that's the important thing. It does no good to ask forgiveness for something and then go out and do the exact same thing again and again only to confess again and again," the image of God throwing a lightning bolt at anyones cock made Daniel laugh, "Has your dick done something worthy of having lightning thrown at it?" he couldn't help but ask, amused.
Taking a breath, Clark lifted the bar and steadied it over himself. As he let his arms relax downward, he exhaled. "Grandpa's are the best," he managed, not that he'd ever known either of his. Hell, he didn't even know where either of his parents were, much less his parents' parents. Once the bar was up, he drew it back down, still pretty easy for him. On the raise, his eyes flicked, bypassing Daniel's groin and seeing under his loose shirt. "I've done lots of things with it, probably something that wouldn't be all thumbs up from Grandpa, but I'm cool with it. I'm a teen, it's what people my age do." His eyes leveled onf the gray bar that drew switcly toward his face, lifting it back up to the count of twenty three before it began to get heavy. "Two more in me," he practically whispered, his chest taut against his shirt, forearms and biceps bringing out the veins on the twenty-fourth. "Get ready," he said, the agony in his arms making his upward lift shake just a little.
"At 19, mistakes are not only allowed, they are expected," Daniel had no problem discussing things like this, "You can do it," he said as Clark tried to raise the bar again, "Obviously, I'm supposed to advocate no sex before marriage and then sex only for procreation and not to use birth control, but let's be realistic. So long as you aren't doing anything that will hurt yourself or others and know your own mind on things, I don't think there's too much problem. People have been jumping fences and having 8lbs 7month babies for years now and I rather doubt they went to hell so long as they were good people and lived their lives to the best of their abilities," the Church reminded him of an ostrich who stuck his head in the sand and then thought it was hiding sometimes. It wasn't that he disagreed, he understood the theology, but it was so contrary to how humans had acted for millennium that it was hard to believe it had persisted sometimes. Plus, since Clark was not Catholic.
"Well, I think mistakes are meant and allowed all through the years. I mean, even if a person is forty five, they're still gonna fuck up." Clark inhaled through his nose, eyes closing as the bar landed back in the nooks, hand staying tight around the bar but his muscles relaxing. "Don't worry - I've never had a kid, born or aborted. I know better than to do that sorta thing. Wrap it before you tap it. That's the way it should be." Sex was sex, but being stupid during sex was another thing entirely. "Relax on the Godspeak, man. I'm not up for knocking girls up and then leaving. Pop didn't teach me much, but he taught me responsibility. Now that I know I'm psychic, I'm really glad no one got knocked up. Hell if I know what their powers may be. Like I could afford the childcare anyway." Clark shrugged and lifting himself up, ducking under the bar. "Your turn. Need me to add some weight to it?"
"Sorry," he said and he meant it. He hadn't meant to get preachy, it was a side effect of what he was sometimes, "I didn't mean to imply you did. Or would," looking at the weights Daniel shook his head and took Clark's place under the bar, "I think it's good. I'm not a body builder either. I don't see why it matters if you are psychic or not, a child is a child. Being able to afford on is a good idea, though it's not stopped a lot of people," which was something Daniel did not understand at all, but he supposed he never would since he would never have kids of his own. He loved his niece and nephew though.
"Nothing to be sorry about." As far as Clark knew, Daniel wasn't responsible for giving his mom a coke habit and turning to being a prostitute or whatever she ended yo doing. Clark wasn't sweating it. He moved lithely from the mat to behind the bar, fingers wrapping around the part where he had moments before held. "I guess none of my friends were ever rich enough to be psychic. I mean, aside from Gav, all of them seem to be pretty well off, not sayin' that they bought their powers or anything. Just nothin' ever happened before I met Lisa and Jayne." He shrugged his shoulders and helped to get the weight off the bar. "Gimme twenty-five. You can match me, you've got ten years on me, at least," Clark drawled with a grin.
"More than that," Daniel agreed, lifting the bar. It wasn't so bad. "Not saying there aren't disadvantaged kids here or psychics in general, but this is a school. My parents had to pay tuition when I came and it wasn't easy. How many kids can't pay tuition? I know there are scholarships, but they're not infinite. This school is predominately white too, and Mr. Saunders isn't, but that makes a difference in terms of trust. You're more likely to trust people who look like you," it wasn't right or logical, but there were many psychological studies that had proved it time and again. Even some of the more disadvantaged kids, like Clark, were white. There were a few non-white students, but even they seemed fairly middle class. "There's a lot of question too still about when psychic powers emerge. There's the kid here, Ron? Who's very young. I was 17 when mine was discovered. That's a big difference."
"That's one of the reason why I really wanted to work in the kitchen - or anywhere at the school. I wasn't raised to be a mooch, so all I ended up doing was sitting around my room like some kind of leper. And I guess working gave me some kind of pride." Clark had always been a prideful person, one of his personal disadvantages sometimes, too. "You know, I was doing something, and there's cleaning up messes or doing people's laundry, but that's not all that cool. In the kitchen? I'm getting to learn about stuff, experiment with stuff." In a way, it was an entire new education. Clark wouldn't say that he was stupid, but stuff like math and geography could only keep his attention for so long. In the kitchen, it was taking that match and converting stuff to cups, liters, learning when fruits and vegetables were in season. It was the practicality of it that he liked so much. "Yeah, he's pretty young, but he seems to have a good group of people around the school that watch out for him. As far as I know, I coulda had mine since birth, but as far as I know, I'd never been around another psychic, so I just didn't know...ya know?"
"I know," Daniel grunted, he was three or four away from 25 now by his count and it was definitely getting harder to lift the bar. He would make 25 though. Just to prove he could. He was stubborn like that, too much so sometimes. "No one knows when we get them is my point...23. We only know when we notice them, as teens, 2....4..." Daniel gasped, trying to lift the bar up one more time. "25," he gasped, breathing heavily and sweating. His muscles had strained on that last one and if he wanted to be honest with himself, he probably should have just quite at 24. Or even 23. "But why do we notice as teens and not from birth? Your power isn't obvious, but you would think a little kid who could speak any language in Skokie would be noticed. And I wasn't. Or a girl who can move things with her mind? Should be noticed. And wasn't," which was most likely a good thing. Their childhoods would have been vastly different and psychics discovered a lot sooner. What they could do was in their genes, but most of the time didn't show until puberty and that was strange, at least to Daniel.
"Easy, Tiger," Clark chuckled lightly, planting his feet shoulder width apart, letting the pads of his fingers brush against the bar, barely touching it so that he could let Daniel do all the work. Deep conversations were probably meant to happen with a hundred and twenty five pounds inches over your head (bar included). Once Daniel hit 25, Clark wrapped his hands around the metal, pulling it up and setting it back in the supports. "True. Maybe the psychic genes are all like 'dude, this kid can't handle that sort of pressure right now, so lets hold off for a a while." Which brought up another interesting topic for Clark. Hell, he had a priest there, he might as well ask him some questions. "So do you think that the powers are evolutionary in nature, or that God's put his thumbprint on special people to give them special powers?" He knew he might be getting into dangerous territory, Darwin versus the Bible, but it was a curious topic, and probably more philosophical than the gym really needed. The question was asked though, so the ball was in Daniel's court. "I get if you don't want to talk about it," he muttered, giving Daniel an out as he rolled his shoulders and stepped away from hovering over the man.
Sitting up, Daniel held up a finger and went to get his water bottle. Sucking on some water for a minute, he nodded, "Evolution vs intelligent design and all that," it was a hot topic with a lot of people, "I think God made Earth and man. I do not think however we calculate time the same as He does...and I think that God is always trying to make his creatures better, including man. I do not think the Earth was made 6,000 years ago. Someone's math is off there," Daniel shrugged, it was not an easy topic, "I do not think those with psychic powers are special though. I'm not better than you or the guy bagging groceries. Different, yes, but not better. I think he gave psychic ability to those that can handle them and as more people are psychic, the more normal it will become. We are never given more trials than we can handle, even if we lack confidence in ourselves," the gym might be a strange place to have a philosophical conversation to some, but it made sense to Daniel. It was why he liked running, it cleared his head and made everything more focused. "I think in the end the Bible and scientists are all trying to explain the same things, it's just that scientists need proof and those who have faith....do not."
It was all an interesting idea, which made Clark want to bring up the existence of dinosaurs and the like, but that was probably best saved for another time. He wiped the side of his face on his shirt sleeve, actually digesting all the things that Daniel had said. "Well, the same can be said about witches back in the old times. Alchemists too, maybe. Maybe they were just people that had special talents, but I think now, with the whole Stargate thing that happened, if the masses found a kid that could speak in different tongues or someone who can talk to computers, they'd be just as ready to raise a fire now as they were back in." He shrugged, scratched at his side, idly. "But that's just fear. And there'll always be fear, so I guess a place like Zener is more than just a place for people with abilities. It's also a safehouse. I don't know how I'd feel if Ronald accidentally told people what their auras looked like - or whatever it is he does - and was chased down by an angry mob just because he was different than everybody else." Daniel had definitely piqued Clark's interest in this sort of conversation, but he was feeling rundown. He glanced at the large clock on the wall and sighed. "Hey, man, it's been real, but I gotta go get cleaned up and start on lunch." He paused. "You gonna be hanging around for the meal?" So maybe Clark did want more conversation, but he wouldn't just come out and say that. No way, he was still too stubborn for something that easily.
Following Clark's glance, Daniel nodded. They had spent a lot of time talking and not much working out, but that was okay. It had been a good upper body workout even if he hadn't done his lower body. Stretching his arms and back out, he considered his timing options. He didn't have any appointments or the like this afternoon and he was really beginning to dislike the other reverend he worked with. Daniel thought he was too set in his ways, Fr. Don thought Daniel was too radical and with the stuff from New Years it just wasn't going so well, "I can if you'll loan me something clean to wear and a shower. Otherwise, I need to take a rain check," because Daniel was not going to hang around all sweaty from his workout. And who knew? If he stayed he might actually learn something in the kitchen other than how to scramble an egg or make toast.
"I think I can manage that. But my room's a little messy. You're not a clean freak or anything, are you?" Clark thumbed over his shoulder. "You're in luck, too. Just did laundry, so you won't have to choose something off the floor based on lack of smell." He was nineteen, perfectly within his rights to keep a haphazard place, even if he did exaggerate it a little bit. "But I call first dibs on the shower, I need to get a move on to the kitchen." As he started to walk, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Daniel was following him. "I hope Lisa remembered to set the pot of soup out last night." He was speaking to himself mainly, trying to remember if he'd seen it that morning when they were prepping for breakfast. "I'm on the top floor with the staff."
So long as his room wasn't a biohazard zone, Daniel didn't much care, he had lived in community living situations for most of his adult life and he'd been 19 himself once. While he wasn't the neatest person now either, Daniel was at least neater than he was as a child, but no one would accuse him of being a neat freak. As was typical of most priests, he own way more books than he had space so they tended to pile around. Grabbing his towel, he followed Clark up the stairs to his room. "Sure. I know where the kitchen is," and maybe now he would finally meet the infamous Lisa. "What sort of soup is it?" Daniel asked, just making conversation.
"I think today there's a choice. Either cream of tomato or navy white bean soup. I forget the actual name of the bean soup, but it's really hearty." Hopefully he would be put on stir-and-skillet. Clark liked making dozens of grilled cheese sandwiches. That was another thing he really liked about the kitchen - repetition. He could get lost in the routine and Lisa liked to talk, but that was usually in the beginning or the end of prep work. The silence was nice, with the radio turned to whatever either of them wanted, Clark was never picky when it came to back ground music. Getting his keys out at the top of the stairs, he cast a glance at Daniel. "Only one other person knows exactly where I live, as far as I know. So, don't go spouting my room number over the message boards, okay?" The last thing he needed was a line of people either wanting him to enhance their powers or to bother him. Lord, that Rylee girl probably wouldn't leave him alone if she knew where he lived. Not that it was such an issue now. They both had seemed to mellow out some. Once the door was unlocked, Clark turned the handle, leaving it open for Daniel. "Sweatpants and a shirt be okay?" It'd be weird letting a priest borrow his underwear, but that was up to Daniel. Hopefully the guy wouldn't go rummaging - there were some things that Clark wanted to keep to himself, nestled away in the back of his drawers.
It was what he was wearing now, "That's fine," Daniel agreed, "And I won't tell anyone," who would he tell anyways? Regardless, priests were good at keeping things to themselves, though he didn't point that out to Clark. He wasn't too interested in wearing anyones underwear except his own. So long as the pants and shirt were clean and lacked obscenity, he wasn't picky. He also was not the type to go rummaging, though he would probably look at any posters or pictures about in the room. There was only so much one could do in a strange place while someone else was in the shower. This was how drama in sitcoms got started.
Thankfully, Clark didn't have much decoration. No posters or family pictures. The one picture he had of his family was tucked in a drawer, the main thing he wanted to keep hidden. There wasn't much that Clark had to say about his family, that a priest should be hearing, at least. Tugging his shirt off, Clark tossed it into his dirty hamper bag and pulled out clean things for himself, stuffing the underwear under a pair of cutoff shorts. It could get hot in the kitchen. Pulling out a couple pairs of sweats, Clark figured Daniel would like some variety. "You can take a look in the closet for some shirts. I'll just be a minute. When you get done, just close the door on your way out, it'll lock automatically." He glanced at Daniel looking around. "Pretty simple shower, I'll try to save you some hot water." He grinned and tossed a pair of socks in between the sweat pants on his made bed. Socks? Clark could give the man some clean socks! Grabbing up his pile, he headed into the bathroom and nudged the door closed with his hip.
Poking his head into the closet Daniel just selected the first shirt he saw, a light blue one with a motorcycle on the front. It would do fine, he wasn't picky. He wore so much black, even on his off time, that wearing a blue shirt would be a novel concept. He waited patiently for Clark to get out of the shower, then slipped in once the younger man had finished and left for the kitchen. Showering quickly himself and using a little of Clark's soap but not his washcloth, Daniel dressed and headed down to the kitchen. He had left his dirty clothes folded on the floor of Clark's bathroom and he hoped he didn't forget them. Well, he could get them back easily enough if he did.
"Can I help?" he asked, entering the kitchen, but staying near the door. He was not much of a chef.
"Huh?" Clark sputtered, turning around, caught off guard. He smiled when he saw it was Daniel. "You wouldn't believe the amount of people that ask that same question but only want to get their meal before everyone else. I don't think so, though. Got everything under control, I think." He was busy making the grilled cheese sandwiches, keeping an eye on them as he sliced the tomatoes for the side. Some people liked peeling the sandwiches apart and then put a slice in there, which was the whole reason he did it in the first place. He was humming along to the music, stopping mid-tomato to stir one of the cauldrons of soup that were on the oven. That was why Clark wore shorts....and the chin hat thing to keep any hairs from his minuscule goatee from going into the soup.
Daniel didn't have much of a beard, more like hopeful fuzz on part of his cheeks and chin and on his upper lip. It wasn't enough to be called a beard, but it was more than just stubble too, "I'll eat last and still help," he said with an easy smile. It looked like a good lunch and everything smelled fresh and clean. How a kitchen smelled was important, "Or not. My lack of cooking skills are fairly legendary. Thanks for the clothes by the way," the pants were a little long, but the shirt fit just fine.
"No prob," Clark said, waving his knife up and down, letting Daniel know that he was talking of the clothes. "If you really want to help, you can cut those blocks of cheese," he waved the knife toward three blocks, two cheddar and one mozzarella. "Make 'em thin enough so that people don't fill up on cheese." Obviously it wasn't to go with the grilled sandwiches, but if people wanted cheese and crackers, they'd be there. "Then if you're done with that, you can clean the grapes in the sink and other stuff. There's celery stalks in the fridge, plus baby carrots and some dips. Mind letting me see you wash your hands? It's kind of a rule around here."
Going to the sink and washing his hands thoroughly, Daniel groaned, "And here I was, just put my hands down my pants," yes it was completely inappropriate, but he didn't think Clark would mind. It was also completely untrue and he knew the younger man would know that too. Once his hands were washed he picked up the knife at the cutting board and experimentally cutting the cheese. No pun intended, "I feel like I should be making some very sophomoric comments right now," he confessed, slicing the cheese unevenly but not very thick. "About cutting the cheese."