Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ocean was a big, deep and mostly boring place to live.

Sure, Tucker (mermaid, and all around badass he was) liked hanging out with his colony whether it was during migration or at their semi-permanent home on the same reef they’d been returning to for years, but there was really only so many times one guy could race between the same three coral formations or explore that shipwreck of the luxury human yacht from a few years back or talk with his dumbass friends about the same dumbass shit, before he went stir-crazy.

He would be the first one to admit that the days he could sneak away for a couple of hours to do his own thing were by far his favourite, those times where he could really stretch out his tail and have some fun without disturbing anyone else too much or causing the elders to frown at him in disapproval.

There were really only three options of where to go when you lived in the ocean: up, down or sideways, and Tucker liked those first two the best.

Some days, he made the dangerous journey further out to sea and dove downwards until his eyes couldn’t adjust to the lack of light and he strained to pull enough oxygen from the water. It was always a fun time, not just for the thrill of potentially dying in the deep, but also because Grif and Kai had usually joined him, and they’d made a fun game out of daring each other to dive the longest or betting who could spot the freakiest deep-sea fish.

In truth though, he hadn’t gone down there in a while, hardly since Grif and Kai had left and, when he thought about it, not since before Junior had been born. Maybe it was a sign that he was growing more mature and aware of his own mortality. Maybe having a kid had just sucked all the fun out of his life. Who knew?

And then, there were days like this one; sunny, nearly waveless and peaceful, where he floated just a few metres below the surface of the water just chilling the fuck out, arms tucked behind his head and the warm current gently rocking him into a doze. Days where he daydreamed of ice-cream, pretty sunsets and attractive blondes happening to fall into his lap. He generally did this closer to the shore where the water was shallower and kept its heat longer, so he could relax for as long as he wanted to. He’d spent entire summer days like this, lounging and day-dreaming to his heart’s content.

On that day, he’d parked it under a long pier near a place on the coast called Blood Gulch, a human town that smelled strongly of bad fish, urine and fresh paint from both frequent graffiti attacks and the local community group’s half-hearted attempts to cover the graffiti up.

Tucker liked to come here as much as he could, not only because it was one of the closest places to the colony, but also because he liked spying on (and occasionally meddling with by temporarily transforming into one of them) the dumb, two-legged creatures that lived there. In some cases he even enjoyed hanging out with a few of them, like his friends Church, Caboose, Donut, and of course, Grif and Kai, who’d gone full-human some time ago. There were even days when being human was far better than being a mermaid- the land wasn’t quite as boring as the sea, after all.

It was also quite handy that most of the town’s inhabitants were either stupid or perpetually high, and the few tourists who did come in the summer were too busy looking disappointed to pay close attention to anything stranger, like, say, a freaking mermaid down by the pier. It made things a lot less stressful in the long run- he wasn’t technically supposed the reveal himself to humans, as that never lead to anything good.

That day in particular felt special, mainly because his ventures away from the colony were becoming fewer and far between. As much as he loved Junior with all his heart and fins, he’d found lately that it was an exhausting job being a father; you had to make sure the kid was fed and sleeping enough, and then there was teaching him how to swim properly telling him off when he bit the other mermaid kids when they got too close.

And okay, maybe sometimes it wasn’t just boredom that made him want to get away from the colony. Maybe sometimes he just needed to leave, to get away, to chill the fuck out.

It wasn’t a bad thing, he usually reasoned to himself.  Everyone needed their alone time, and it wasn’t like he was being an negligent asshole about it- someone would be keeping an eye on the little squirt, and if it came down to it he was confident that Junior wasn’t dumb enough to wander off from the group and be eaten by jellyfish. The kid was a smart little shark, after all.

And so, Tucker lay on his back in the warm water, letting any worries he had float away with the current and the sun warm everything from the tip of his tail to the closed lids of his eyes. This was his time, and nothing could take it away from him.

There was an echoing splash somewhere above him that he paid no mind, at least until something heavy smacked him in the face.

“What the-?” he cried, eyes flying open, nose stinging. He grabbed at the offending object before it fell off him and sank to the sandy bottom and gazed at it in equal parts surprise and anger. Things falling in the ocean wasn’t an uncommon occurrence- it was mostly fisherman’s hooks, human rubbish or, closer to the land as he was, rocks thrown by teenagers to scare innocent fish who were just going about their day.

This particular object Tucker recognised as a ‘cell phone’, something he’d watched a lot of humans use a lot more than they probably should have. A couple of years ago he and Grif had even stolen one to look up human porn on the internet, but that had ended with them discovering that the device definitively did not work under the water. This one wasn’t even the first time Tucker had seen dropped into the water either- the ocean floor beneath the pier was a treasure trove of human crap lost from the pier, from sunglasses to empty beer bottles.

But before he could scrutinise the phone further, there was another, much larger splash above him and something large and moving fast blocked out the light of sun. Before Tucker had time to think, the thing barrelled straight into him with such force that it pushed him down several feet.

The cell phone slipped from his hand.

Suddenly all he could see was two wide blue eyes- one with a long scar slashed across it from eyebrow to cheek- freckly skin and a nose pressed in uncomfortably close to his own face. His first instinct was to pull his face and tail back at the sudden intrusion into his personal space.

Tucker blinked, and so did the man. He looked the muscly body up and down, noting the two legs and shorts, and the human seemed to do the same to him, cheeks puffed from holding his breath.

For a brief second, it registered in Tucker’s mind that their lips were uncomfortably close to each other.

And then the screaming started.

While Tucker would deny shrieking like a girl until the day his bones rested on the ocean floor, it was far from a manly yell that escaped his mouth. It was, at least, undeniably more dignified than the muffled gurgles punctuated with streams of air bubbles that the human produced.

In a panicked flurry of swearing and flailing limbs, Tucker pushed himself away, rolled over and began swimming downwards as fast as his fins would propel him, as the two-legger did the exact same thing in the opposite direction.

Tucker was still swearing wildly by the time he reached the ocean floor, his heart hammering in his chest and breaths coming short and fast.

“What the crap was that human thinking?”

He made a concerted effort to calm himself, before rolling over and looking to the surface, where the flapping legs of the human were making a beeline towards the shore.

“Yeah! You better fuck off and not come back!” Tucker yelled, shaking his fist upwards.

There was no way the human heard him.

He swam over and grabbed onto one of the barnacle-covered support poles of the pier, and took a moment recompose himself. A thin stream of bubbles left his mouth as he considered the situation.

It was official- his day off was now, tragically and completely, ruined. There was no way he would return to his zen zone anytime after a fright like that. Tucker had nearly jumped out of his tail.

That wasn’t even to mention the fact that if that two-legger (who Tucker had seen even from a glimpse wasn’t the usual Blood Gulch bozo or disinterested tourist) ran around town yelling about mermaids in a panic, he’d had to stay away for a while to let things cool off. That alone sucked major ass, because as much as it was a shithole, Tucker liked hanging around Blood Gulch. It was almost like a second home.

He moaned to himself and bonked his head against the wooden pole.

“Fuuuuck,” he cried, casting his eyes about dramatically.

Something familiar-looking glinted on the seafloor a fair distance away, and he swam over to it. It was the human’s phone, Tucker realised with a start, the one that the guy must have jumped in to save (and fucked up Tucker’s whole day, and potentially life, over).

After a moment of consideration, Tucker reached down and picked it up, shaking off a few specks of sediment from the screen. He wasn’t sure at all if it would still work (the one he and Grif had stolen had made quite a show of short-circuiting when they’d tried to use it) but maybe it could still be salvaged if it didn’t stay in the water for too long. He’d once witnessed Caboose drop his phone into a full bathtub, something that Church hadn’t been happy about, and then put it in a container of rice, and it had been fine. Humans may have been disgusting, polluting land creatures, but Tucker knew they could be damn creative sometimes.

He looked to the surface far above him, and then back at the phone, mulling over his options.  On any other day, he mightn’t have given a fuck about it, but a thought occurred to him- maybe, if the human hadn’t left the beach yet, he could give back the phone and maybe even convince the guy not to run around crying ‘mermaid’. That, or try to convince him that he was dreaming, and then clock him over the head with a heavy shell, or something. That was a possibility too.

Clenching the phone tight in his hand, Tucker decided that it was at least worth the shot. He pushed off in the direction of the land, swerving between the wooden poles and flapping his tail in strong, broad strokes to drive him upwards.

He broke the surface under the shadow of the pier, and twisted around to gain his bearings. He was instantly in luck- leaning against one of the supports under the pier on land was the very same human that had fallen on him. Tucker recognised him both by his clothes and the intense smattering of freckles that stretched across every inch of visible skin on the guy’s arms and legs. Plus, the fact that he was soaking wet and breathing heavily like he’d swum a race was a dead giveaway.

Just the look of the two-legger’s back made Tucker mad.

“Hey, asshole!” yelled Tucker. “You can’t just fall on a dude while he’s chilling like that, it’s fucking rude!”

He pulled back his arm and threw the phone at the human- it glanced off his shoulder, making him whip around to look. The phone bounced off the sand and under the shadow of the pier.

The human yelled in shock and raised his fists like he was expecting a fight.

There was an awkwardly long moment of eye contact. Tucker blinked, and the human blinked back.

“You- you’re a mermaid?” the human said, incredulous and wide-eyed. “I’m not crazy, you’re actually a mermaid and I’m not hallucinating?”

“No shit. What gave it away? Was it the tail, the fact that I can live underwater or that I’m not wearing any clothes?” Tucker snarked back. He crossed his arms, and tried to look as unimpressed as he could manage.

The human spluttered for a moment, blushing, before dropping his fists slowly.

Tucker forced a calming breath and wiped at a dribble of water that came from his mouth.

“Listen dude- mermaids, magic and all that shit? Just don’t think about it.”

The human’s mouth dropped open. “Wait, what was that about mag-?”

“Look, I brought your phone back,” cut in Tucker, gesturing to where it had landed, “And now I would really appreciate it if you just, like, didn’t tell anyone you saw me. It’s this whole thing with us where when humans see us they freak out and there’s this whole things with tourists and media and reporters showing up. It’s a real shit-show for everyone involved, so if we both can just forget this ever happened, I’ll call it even for ruining my day.”

But the human didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, he was stepping closer to the water, all terror seemingly gone and replaced with what looked like cautious wonder.

 “Holy shit, you’re a mermaid,” the guy said. He rubbed at the back of his blonde head, the hair still plastered flat to his skull and dripping. “I mean, you- you’re a real. Whoa.”

“Dude. Don’t make this weirder than it needs to be.”

“Oh, sorry, I… it’s just that you’re the first mermaid I’ve ever met, you know?” said the human with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah, the whole ‘screaming’ thing really gave that away.”

“You were screaming too, you know,” replied the two-legger with a scrutinising eye.

It was Tucker’s turn to splutter. “Yeah, only because you surprised the shit out of me!” he cried, curling his tail in closer to his body in annoyance.

The human’s attention shifted at the movement, and he openly gaped.

 “What the hell are you looking at?” Tucker snapped, self-consciously curling it behind him to hide it. It was bad enough that others in the colony judged him for his bumpy-ass seahorse tail, and he’d known a lot of them for years. Having a strange human see him in mermaid form was a hundred times worse.

“Sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” said the human, holding his hands out placatingly. “It’s just that… I mean, I thought that Palomo guy from the Marine Institute was just a crazy loud guy, the way he kept going on about mermaids in Blood Gulch, but… here you are.” The guy chuckled a little hysterically, and rubbed at his arm.

Tucker sighed. “Fucking Palomo’s still at it, huh? Geez, won’t that guy ever shut up?”

The human huffed out a laugh, before shaking his head and sending droplets of water flying. The tension in the air diffused a bit.

“Anyway man, sorry about crashing into you like that. Uh… I’m Wash, by the way, David Washington. Nice to meet you? I guess?”

Wash stepped forward, still cautious, and got onto his knees at the shoreline. He held out his hand. Tucker looked at it, confused and cautious.

“Wait, do mermaids not shake hands? Is that rude to you?”

“I know what that means, asshole, I’m not an amateur to human culture,” growled Tucker. “I’m just trying to work out why you’re so ready to accept this. Usually you humans are either running off screaming or trying to dissect me at this point.”

“What?” Wash squeaked. ”No, no, I just- I’m just trying to say hello. I don’t want to hurt you, alright.”

Tucker eyed him suspiciously, arms crossed and guarding his chest. Wash appeared to be genuine enough, from all that he knew about humans. After all, Donut had turned out to be a good friend after his initial freak out, and Caboose had taken it surprisingly in stride, dumb as he was. Sure he’d met some bad humans in his time, but the same could be said for mermaids or other aquatic beings.

“Tucker,” he said after a moment, unfolding his arms.

Wash blinked.

“It’s my name, idiot,” Tucker added, exasperated.

“Tucker. Cool.” Wash replied with a flicker of a smile. “Err.”

He stood up again and walked over to pick up his phone from under the pier. He shook it out and brushed at some of the dry sand that clung to the wet screen.

“You gonna do that rice thing and see if it still works?” asked Tucker.

“Probably. Man, I forgot about that trick, I might have to buy some on the way home.”

Wash looked again at the phone, and sighed in disappointment (probably aimed at himself), before turning back to the water.

 “Well, thanks for bringing this back then, Tucker. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it, dude. Also, don’t mention me, you know? Keep it on the DL, can’t have the whole world panicking like you did. We’re not supposed to let humans see us, you get me?”

“Right,” muttered Wash. “I guess that makes sense. Your secret’s safe with me, don’t worry.”

“It better be,” Tucker said with an accusing finger. “Palomo better be the only one spouting off mermaid talk next time I’m in town, you hear me?”

“I hear you, don’t worry,” Wash said with another laugh. His gaze flickered again to Tucker’s tail again, before looking determinedly away.

“I better get going and see if I can save this phone. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” Wash said, and Tucker thought he could make out a glimmer of hope in his tone.

He snorted. “In your dreams, Washington. What kind of fucking name is that, anyway?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and glided out into the deeper water. Tucker glanced back when he was a fair way out to see Wash still gazing at him in awe from the beach. He had to resist the urge to flip the human off- there was no use being rude when he’d been so agreeable, after all.

Instead, Tucker dived down without another thought, just keen to get back to the colony, and put the whole incident behind him. His day was ruined, but maybe he could have a race with Junior through the reef before the sun went down.

And maybe if he was lucky, he would never have to see that Wash guy ever again.

Chapter Text

It was dark, quiet and cool when Tucker broke the surface next to Blood Gulch pier, wiping the drops of water from his eyes and pushing his dripping braids back off his face in a well-practiced motion.

He took a moment to marvel at the pre-dawn world; overhead, the stars were slowly twinkling and fading in a velvet sky, while the water around him was calm, the motion of the waves as gentle as he’d ever felt them. Most ethereal of all, in the distance the beach was almost entirely devoid of life and movement, bar the odd seagull rummaging in trash cans for breakfast.

It was a refreshing sight to see, as Tucker knew that by midday the landscape would be thriving with over-tanned and underdressed humans lying on the sand, gangs of smoking teenagers hanging about and stressed mothers running after splashing toddlers, as was the usual during the summer months.

 It might have been a damn cliché, but he in that moment preferred the stillness of night to all that crazy loud shit.

Tucker shook his head to clear both it and shake the water from his skin, and swam over to the pier, gripping onto the rungs of the ladder and hoisting himself half out of the sea.

He checked his watch- 4:23 AM.

“Early for once, boo-ya bitch!” he said to himself happily, before closing his eyes and concentrating.

In a matter of minutes, his bumpy aqua tail shifted, smoothed and split, transforming into two dark human legs that he flapped about experimentally in the water to check that they worked, before using them to climb up the ladder. Tucker made sure to check the pier was deserted (he was not making that mistake again) before hauling himself onto it. It took a bit of effort and the help of the railing to get upright, but after a minute or so of shaking them out, his new legs were good to go.

A short walk from the ladder sat old wooden fisherman’s box, which creaked when Tucker opened it. He pulled out a towel and set to work wiping himself down, before also pulling out a baggy pair of pants. It took him only one try to pull them on (the right way and everything), something that he was smugly proud of, considering he didn’t have nearly as much practice at is as full-time humans did.

Tucker heard footsteps approaching just as the box groaned shut.

“You’re early, I’m surprised,” said a voice.

He turned to grin widely at Wash, who was holding a torch and wearing shorts and his favourite grey and yellow t-shirt. His short blonde hair was sticking up in a certain, sleep trussed way that told Tucker he’d rolled straight out of bed without bothering to do anything about it.

“Fuck off,” replied Tucker, before stepping forward and leaning onto his toes. Wash met him half way, tangling his fingers into Tucker’s still-wet braids and pulling him in until their lips met.

It had been a year since Wash had literally fallen into Tucker’s life. An eventful, funny and good year.

They drew apart from the kiss, and Tucker pulled a face.

“What have I told you about morning breath, you asshole?”

“And what have I told you about putting on a shirt?” shot back Wash. “I know there’s one in the box, I put it there.”

“I’m warm enough from the swim,” said Tucker back. “Besides, you know you love looking at my sick-ass mermaid abs.”

Wash scoffed, rolling his eyes fondly. “Come on ‘mermaid abs’, stop complaining or we’re gonna miss the sunrise.”

He took Tucker’s hand and pulled him towards the end of the pier, and Tucker let him do so with only mild complaint.

For a few minutes of comfortable silence, they simply leaned against the creaky old, bird-poop covered, splinter-inducing railing (that the council had been promising to replace for years now, and had yet to actually do so), looking off towards the distant line of the horizon. It seemed to be a tad lighter than when Tucker had surfaced earlier.

“Is Junior still asleep?” asked Wash.

“He was when I left, but he’s probably up now. Little dude’s always moving about, you know? It’s the shark in him.”

“I know, I can’t ever keep up,” Wash said with a smile and a playful laugh.

The warmth in his eyes was contagious, and filled Tucker from the inside out, like the top layers of the ocean on a warm day. He beamed back with all the gusto of an idiot, happy and energetic- it faded slightly when Wash looked away again.

As much as it was embarrassing to admit out loud, or even just to himself, it had been getting harder and harder recently for Tucker to return to the ocean. While being able to grow legs at will let him pass as human, he wasn’t fool enough to believe he actually was one. The fact of the matter was that humans and mermaids were different species, and couldn’t exist in each other’s environments for an extended amount of time. He’d spent hours on land, walking about and laughing with his friends, and had even brought Wash and Donut to the colony to hang out a few times, but it sucked knowing that each trip was limited to how long the magic or oxygen tanks lasted. It sucked even worse knowing that, because of their differences, he would never be able to stay with Wash as long as he wanted to.

There was no way Tucker could deny it- things had just been… well, better since they had started dating.

It had been quite tricky at first, trying to work out how to be together (there wasn’t exactly a website called ‘How To Have A Human Boyfriend When You’re A Mermaid’ out there), but they’d done the best they could with what they did have. Sometimes that meant meticulously planning entire surface trips around Tucker’s limited transformation time or Wash having to redo his scuba certification and hire out equipment for dates, or even laboriously filling Wash’s bathtub with buckets of salt water just so they could have a home-cooked dinner for once. Other, at worser times it meant missing meetings because Tucker couldn’t tell what time it was under the water or simply not coming to the surface for a week or two when they were in the middle of a fight.

It wasn’t easy or normal, and neither of them could forget that Junior was also part of the equation, but they were trying, and that meant something very important to him.

Besides, Tucker knew all that complicated shit was worth it each time he felt the sand between his human toes as they walked along the beach telling each other stories, and when Junior laughed until he snorted water from his nose because Wash told a joke, and when they kissed so long Tucker forgot to how to breathe either water or air. On sea or land, Tucker found himself constantly marvelling that Wash, former marine, current asshole, crazy-ass amazing son of a bitch, was Tucker’s.

It had been a really good year.

But all of that only made the fact that migration was swiftly approaching harder to bear. Grif would have teased him mercilessly if he knew that Tucker’s heart had begun to ache weirdly every time the thought occurred to him. Being separated by the water was one thing, but distance? That was another beast entirely.

He knew, logically, that it wasn’t really that big a deal- he would be gone with the colony for a few months, and when he came back, Wash would be waiting for him by the beach like he always was. They weren’t one of those lovesick couples who were constantly sucking face on the pier- like everything else, they’d figure the weirdness out together.

Wash rustled in place, and Tucker shook himself out of his thoughts to stare at his boyfriend’s shadowed figure. After a moment, he wrapped an arm around Wash’s bicep and linked their hands together on the railing. Wash shifted so their shoulders pressed tightly against each other.

“So, anything new in the human world?” Tucker asked.

A sound behind them caught his ear, and he turned to see the silhouettes of two other people walking along the pier in their direction. Evidentially, they weren’t the only ones who had come for the sunrise.

He looked back at Wash, who appeared to be thinking. He opened his mouth, reconsidered his words and closed it again. Tucker paid the hesitation no mind.

“They’re opening up a new sushi place on the Avenue,” Wash said, eventually.

“What?” Tucker said, instantly standing up straight. “Another one? What the fuck is it with you people and sushi? Those fish have lives too, you know, I’ve seen it!”

“You eat fish, Tucker.”

“Yeah, but only because we don’t have chicken and cows in the sea! And besides, I’m not the weirdo who wraps it up in rice and seaweed like it’s all a goddamn game. Seaweed, of all things?! Seaweed is fucking gross, it’s so slimy and ugh.”

Tucker shuddered in disgust to illustrate his point.

Wash crooked an eyebrow at him. “Sounds like there’s a story there. Really, I would have thought it would be weirder to be part fish and eating a fish than a human eating one. Isn’t that technically cannibalism?”

“Don’t start with that again, you fucker,” Tucker shot back with a waggling finger in his face. Wash gave a shit-eating grin and threw an arm around Tucker’s neck, pulling him in closer again.

“Alright, but I’m just saying…”

“Just shut up, dick.”

Tucker shook his head, trying to hide his own smile, and they both turned back to the horizon. It was unmistakable now that the sky was a lighter tint than before. He could hear the footstep of the other humans trekking closer to them on the pier just above the gentle crashing of the waves below, while a lone seagull screeched unseen far above them.

He frowned.

“This is nice,” he said. It wasn’t often he spoke without a sarcastic undertone, but in certain moments it just felt right. “Just… you know, being together. I really like just hanging out with you, and I know wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for you.”

Wash breathed out, long and slow. “I really like you too, Tucker,” he replied, quietly.

And I love you, Tucker almost said back. However, they hadn’t gotten to that bit yet, and as much as he was tentative about the whole ‘L’ word business in general, he also knew that there was still time- maybe after migration and after Junior had grown up a bit more, and definitely after he stopped being a chicken-shit about the whole ‘deep feelings’ situation.

But that was a thought for another time. Now, he rested his head on Wash’s shoulder and pulled him closer, and they looked out towards the horizon, and the new day the rising sun would bring with it.

“Aww, now isn’t that just adorable?” said a voice, breaking the peace like a gunshot. Tucker whipped his head around, annoyed, to see the two other people on the pier standing a few feet away and staring directly at them.

He hadn’t realised they’d crept so close.

“Errr, thanks?” Tucker said with an awkward half-smile, before whispering, “The fuck is up with these guys?” to Wash.

Instead of an equally snippy retort as Tucker expected, Wash’s eyes went wide with recognition, and his grip on Tucker tightened.

Confused, Tucker turned back to the newcomers. Both wore sharp three-piece suits, like the businessmen that sometimes prowled the Avenue looking for investment opportunities in the piss-stained sidewalks and graffiti-covered sushi restaurants. 

One was short and stocky, with wide-set shoulders, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and two thin scars slashed across his face to form an ominous ‘X’. There was a story in it that Tucker felt curious about, but he also instantly felt too scared to ask- the guy’s stance was hard and tense, his crossed arms forming a hard line across his chest.

The other man, the one who had spoken, was taller and ganglier than his friend. He had a sharp undercut and wore shiny, expensive-looking sunglasses despite the fact that the sun had yet to rise. That, and the fact that he stood with his hands in his pockets and a smirk like he owned the pier, or maybe the entire town, surrounded him with an air of douchiness that Tucker immediately disliked.

They both stood under the amber light of the old gaslight lanterns that lined the railing, casting long and menacing shadows across the wooden boards.

“Wash, do you know these guys?” asked Tucker, looking to his boyfriend for an explanation.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone, Felix,” Wash said tersely.

The gangly man, presumably Felix, tutted. “Now now, David. Do we seem like the kind of people to leave a, uh, ‘lovely’ town like this before our business is done?”

Felix turned his gaze to Tucker with a sharp, hungry smile that reminded him of one of Junior’s uncles- wild, feral and with shark teeth that could tear through flesh like paper. He shuddered involuntarily, goose bumps rising on his bare back.

“Hello there, you must be Tucker,” Felix said, with an air of pleasantness that was at odds with the whole strange, vaguely scary situation. “I’m Felix, and this is my partner Locus.”

Felix gestured to the other man, who merely inclined his head.

“Hi?” replied Tucker. He glanced in confusion between Wash and the two, a sense of foreboding settling in his stomach. “Er, what the fuck is going on here?”

“We were just leaving,” Wash said forcefully. He pulled at Tucker’s arm and made to leave.

The big guy, Locus, stepped forward to block their way. Wash stopped, but did not yield entirely, drawing himself up to his full height and staring Locus down.

“Oh no, neither of you can leave,” laughed Felix. “Not until you give us what we want.”

Felix snapped his fingers with flair, like a ringmaster in a circus, and Locus reached into his jacket to draw out something that Tucker recognised with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, is that a gun?!” he cried. The handgun looked almost like it was ripped out of one of the action movies Tex enjoyed so much, complete with a long silencer.

Wash’s reaction was instantaneous- he threw out his arm and side-stepped directly in front of Tucker, pushing him back a step as he did so. He had to peer around Wash’s shoulder to see that Locus hadn’t yet pointed the gun at them, but was holding it in clear and threatening view.

Tucker glanced frantically behind and around him, and found they were completely backed into a corner, the end of the pier just behind them, and Locus and Felix blocking the other direction. Unless they could somehow jump into the water and get away fast enough, they were stuck. He’d seen the Mythbusters episode with the bullets shooting into water, and he was not prepared to test that fuckery out in real life.

Tucker hadn’t felt this trapped since he’d tangled himself in that fishing net a few years back.

“No one needs to get hurt here,” said Wash curtly, with the hint of a snarl.

“If you cooperate, no one will,” replied Locus in a deep, serious voice.

“What the fuck do you maniacs want?” hissed Tucker. He held tightly onto Wash’s shirt, wanting nothing more than to get both of them out of there now. If only he had the power of teleportation; that would have been far more useful than fucking legs.

“Simple,” drawled Felix. ”Tucker, we want your colony.”

Tucker blinked,

“My what?” he lied, trying to think quickly. “I don’t know what you-”

“Don’t play dumb with me, mermaid. We know it’s somewhere near here.”

Tucker exchanged a frightened look with Wash.

“And you knew about this?” He said quietly.

Wash’s eyes darted down awkwardly. “They approached me the other day. They didn’t say anything about the colony, but they did keep asking weird questions about you. I was going to tell you later.”

“Wait, you didn’t actually tell them anything, did you?” Tucker tried to keep the betrayal out of his voice.

“Of course not! I told them to fuck off! And now that I think about it, you guys seemed a lot nicer then,” Wash said, turning angrily back to the two men. “What, did you take a psycho pill between now and then?”

Locus’ fingers tensed slightly around the trigger of the gun.

“Oh, you know how it is in the business world,” answered Felix casually, pacing back and forth across the width of the pier with his hands in his pocket, as if they were having a pleasant chat instead of being held at gunpoint. “Timelines get rearranged, executives in boardrooms thousands of miles away take a rushed vote, and suddenly an important deadline you thought was weeks away has been moved up.”

“So here’s the deal, gentlemen; long story short, my employer needs mermaids, and he needs them now. Problem is, neither I nor my associate here knows where the mermaids are, and technology has really been letting us down lately.”

Felix held up his left hand, and stretched his pointer figure skyward.

“But you two,” he nodded at them, “You both know exactly where they are, presuming fish-breath here wanted to take his little boyfriend back for a lil meet n’ greet with the family.”

He held up his right hand and mirrored the same gesture as the left.

“Now, are you boys seeing where I’m going with this? What the simple solution to my little problem is?” Felix said, drawing his two outstretched finger together and then pointing them towards Tucker and Wash. “One- or both of you, I’m not picky- will lead us to the colony. In return, we won’t kill you. Now, how does that sound?”

Tucker could feel nothing but a hot rage radiating from his stomach to his jaw, vibrating his skin and curling his fingers into fists.

“Fuck. You. Fuck. Off,” he spat.

“Oh, I won’t be the one being fucked here, Tucker,” said Felix with a sultry grin.

Tucker growled.

“What about you, Wash?” Felix said, shifting his gaze.

“What he said,” Wash snarled back.

Felix groaned, long and over-exaggerated, and scrubbed a hand across his face.

“I thought I’d made it clear how important this deadline was to me, boys. Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Locus-” Felix clicked his fingers together, like a master commanding his dog, “-shoot the Little Mermaid.”

Locus raised and pointed it directly at them.

“Don’t you dare,” cried Wash. He stepped back, still covering Tucker’s body with his own, until Tucker felt the old wooden rail dig into his bare back. It groaned.

They could go no farther, not even the sea would bring safety. It felt a thousand times worse than the fishing net, like he was tangled in infinite nets without hope of rescue, and Locus was stepping forward, looking for an opening to shoot him.

“Don’t you fucking touch him!” roared Wash, launching himself at Locus and managing to push the gun to the side, but not from the attacker’s hand. Tucker watched as Wash went in for a punch to the jaw, which Locus countered with a kick, and the tussle continued.

Tucker whipped his attention to Felix, who stood watching the fight wearing a feral grin. With a yell, he drew his hand into a fist and ran forward, ready to sock the asshole in his douche face like he so obviously deserved. Felix side-stepped the blow at the last second with precocious grace, making Tucker fly past him and almost fall over trying to spin around again.

“You really couldn’t do this the easy way, could you?” Felix said, amusedly.

“Yeah, you look really cut up about it,” shot back Tucker.

He stepped forward again, and with all his strength, backhanded Felix across the face, knocking the expensive sunglasses off and sending the asshole reeling. If Donut had been there, he probably would have been proud.

Felix spat on the ground, rubbing his face and sneering. With pride, Tucker saw a drip of blood run down his temple as he righted himself.

“No more games, Tucker,” Felix said, low and dangerous. In one swift move, he grabbed Tucker by the shoulders and head-butted him, and Tucker swore he blacked out for a second, because the next thing he knew, Felix was throwing him back against the railing of the pier.

Tucker, dazed, brought his arms up to block a blow to his face, but couldn’t avoid the second blow aimed for his stomach, and he doubled over, winded.

Next thing he knew, the black and orange of Felix’s suit filled his vision, and a hand clenched tight around his braids, pulling him upwards so he was face to face with the man himself.

Over Felix’s shoulder he saw Wash and Locus, still sparring and grunting, somewhat evenly matched.

“Hmm,” said Felix, drawing Tucker’s gaze again. From seemingly nowhere he pulled out a long, serrated knife, and regarded Tucker with sharp dark, no longer hidden eyes. He twirled the knife in his free hand with very little effort, like it was a toy.

“Well,” he crooned, “You’re definitely the biggest fish I’ve ever gutted, and boy, I’ve gutted some fish in my time.”

Tucker’s eyes went wide, and he had no time to do anything but let out a strangled breath before Felix jammed the knife into his abdomen.

Tucker didn’t scream; he was too stunned to push out more than a shuddering grunt. Pain radiated from his middle in hot waves, it felt like a jellyfish sting or giving birth all over again, except a hundred times worse. He was instantly weak, his legs and body feeling like they were going to crumble under their own weight. He had to reach around for the rail in an effort to keep from tumbling to the wooden boards like a puppet cut from its strings. Tucker looked downwards to see the knife buried in his body almost up to the hilt, and Felix’s hand drawing away. The hand on his hair remained.

If it weren’t for the pain, and the feeling of the old, splintered wood beneath his fingers, he could almost believe that this had happened to someone else and he was just an observer. A small part of him registered that that was probably the shock talking.

“Tucker!”

He looked up, drawn to Wash’s voice and saw him paused with a fist in the air, clothes ripped, bloody, and wearing an anguished expression that tugged at Tucker’s heart. His gaze was fixed on the knife, and Tucker desperately wished that he would look away.

Felix said something in his lilting, smug-ass voice that slipped his hearing entirely. Instead, a movement behind Wash caught his eye.

“Look ou-!” he tried to call, but the warning was too late.

Locus had taken the distraction as a chance, wrapping an arm around Wash’s neck to immobilise him. Wash’s reaction was violent and immediate- he roared with a fury like Tucker hadn’t seen from him before, and elbowed Locus in the stomach. The larger man, however, barely even flinched and, in face, tightened his grip, which Wash responded to by throwing his head back in an attempted face smash, that Locus barely leaned back in time to avoid.

“Some people just want to fight, don’t they?” muttered Felix.

Tucker could feel blood dripping down his legs.

Wash was thrown roughly back against the railing at the end of the pier, which shuddered and cracked ominously. He groaned, but quickly got back into a fighting stance as Locus approached him, gun in hand.

“Enough!” cried Felix petulantly. Everyone paused and turned to look at him. “We don’t have time for this bullshit! Lead us to the colony Washington, or I’ll gut him again!”

“Do it! I’ll fucking die to keep my people safe!” spat Tucker with a defiance that belayed his sagging, broken body.

Wash looked torn, breathing hard and flickering his gaze Locus and Felix, before eventually settling on Tucker.

Don’t, thought Tucker, trying desperately to pour his thoughts out through his eyes. Think of Junior. Don’t lead them to Junior, Wash, please.

Wash grimaced and looked down at his bloody, shaking fingers. After a moment, they curled themselves into fists, and when he looked up again there was an icy fire burning behind his eyes.

“No,” said Wash.

“No?” Felix repeated.

“No, I won’t do what you want. You can go to hell Felix, but before you do, I am gonna make you regret hurting my family.”

You fucking idiot, thought Tucker.

Terrified, he looked to Felix, who’s lip was twitching, but was otherwise completely unreadable.

“Fine. We’ll find another way, we always do. We’re scrappy like that, aren’t we Locus?” Felix said.

He clicked his fingers again.

Before Tucker could even blink, Locus raised his gun and fired at Wash.

There was no dramatic blast back or great resounding shot like in Tex’s movies- Wash simply swayed in place, and then fell backwards. There was a resounding crack as he hit the crappy railing, and Tucker found that he could only watch in slow-motion horror as the wood snapped, and his boyfriend fell backwards off the pier and into the water below.

“Wash! No!” he cried.

Ignoring the searing pain it brought, Tucker wrenched himself out of Felix’s grip. He fell to the ground almost immediately but didn’t let it stop him, scrambling on his hands and knees over to the broken railing, before flopped ungracefully over the edge of the pier and into the ocean without a second thought.

The water hit him hard and fast, like a wall of wetness. He fumbled immediately for his pants, hands uncoordinated in both pain and haste, and he was already transforming even before he’d ripped them completely off. The skin of his lower body grew bumps, and then ridges, before finally turning aqua-green and morphing both legs into a single pointed tail. With a bubbly scream, he pulled out the knife still lodged in his chest and threw it as far as he could away from him in the water.

One hand across the wound, Tucker finally opened his mouth and let out whatever air was still trapped in there, before taking a large gulp of water, and then several shorter and faster ones.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he whispered, blinking and heaving.

He spent another wasted second trying to orient himself, before flipping over and beginning to swim downwards into the darkness of the sea.

Tucker knew a lot about drowning. He knew that humans couldn’t survive long underwater without some kind of breathing apparatus. He knew that, like some fish, their bodies couldn’t survive under a certain depth from the pressure, and that a human could drown even when they were on land, if they had water in their lungs. He knew that human children were statistically the most likely to drown.

He knew that a full grown human, like Wash, could last about six minutes without oxygen before his brain shut itself down.

Tucker swam faster than he’d ever swum in his life.

Panic was threatening to override his senses- his ears were popping, the familiar tang of salt on his tongue tasted vile, his eyes could see nothing in front of them but a trail of bubbles and something dark that curled through the water like poison, and- there!

“Wash!” he cried out desperately, forgetting that the guy wouldn’t be able to hear him even if he hadn’t just been shot and in the process of drowning. Tucker swam, his tail burning, his middle on fire, but ignoring all that in favour of reaching out to grip onto Wash’s face as soon as he was close enough.

Wash’s eyes were half-closed, but they still seemed to find him. A spark of recognition flickered within them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Fuck, this is all my fault!” Tucker howled.

They reached the ocean floor with a muted thunk, Wash’s entire body hitting the sand in stages- shoulders first, torso, and then legs floating down afterwards.

“Wash,” Tucker said again, drifting directly above Wash’s prone body. Tucker let go of his face in favour of pulling at his arms and clothes, and managed lift him up enough that he could hug Wash to his chest. Even that small action left him gasping in pain.

“Wash, if you can hear me, you gotta help me out here. Wash, we gotta swim up, before you drown!”

Tucker cursed when all his boyfriend did in return was open his mouth further, letting a thin stream of bubbles float up and out of sight.

“Fine, you fucker, I’ll just do all the work myself, then!”

If the descent had been bad, the ascent was absolute hell. Tucker had both his arms under the crook of Wash’s armpits and was pulling with all his might. It was torturously slow, and all the while Tucker was acutely aware that he was running out of time.

The world around him lightened in degrees and he could see the shadowed underbelly of the pier drawing closer with each stroke of his tail. He yelled and pushed and groaned, amd then- yes!

Tucker had never been more freaking grateful to break the surface in his life, the cool air burning its way into his nose. He grunted, and pulled Wash up next, pulling him on top so his head and, more importantly, his mouth was above the water.

“Breathe Wash, goddamnit!” he yelled. He looked to the beach, so far away he almost blacked out at the mere thought of the distance. But that wasn’t an option at all.

He pulled and pushed, his fins flapping with waning effort, and all the while his abdomen had gone numb in the water. That either a very good or very bad thing, and Tucker was leaning towards the bad, because what else would it be.

Finally, panting and crying, Tucker dragged them both onto the beach a few feet from the start of the pier. The sand scratched at his hands and tail as he hastily vomited out the seawater in his lungs to make room for oxygen.

He adjusted Wash until he was lying flat on his back and, began thumping at his chest, infinitely grateful that Donut had made him learn CPR last year ‘just in case’.

“Breathe,” he repeated between sets of resuscitation. “Breathe, you fucking asshole!”

Footsteps sunk into the sand behind him, but he ignored them, too busy counting out loud.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime Wash burst to life, jerking and spurting water out of his mouth.

“Oh fuck yes!”

Tucker quickly rolled him into the recovery position as he hacked and took a moment to look him up and down- Wash’s shoes were probably ruined, and the beginnings of bruises were beginning to blossom across his face, but Tucker’s first and foremost concern was the bullet wound in his stomach. Blood was mingling with the salt water, and flowing out at an alarming rate, and he pressed a hand on it to try and stem the flow.

“Oh fuck, oh Poseidon fuck, what now?”

The footsteps stopped, a large figure overshadowing him where he lay on the beach, and someone leaned down to place two fingers on Wash’s neck.

“He might live if he gets to the hospital soon,” Locus said.

“Get the fuck away from him!” Tucker growled. He bared his teeth and reached out to push Locus away, and had to double over at a spike of pain from his own wound. “Help,” he yelled, “Someone please, hel-!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Tucker,” came Felix’s cool voice. Tucker looked around to see the asshole standing over them, looking smugger than ever. “So you can still swim, huh?”

Tucker spat whatever moisture he still had in his mouth at Felix’s feet, and pushed tighter down on Wash’s belly.

“New deal, and I would recommend you take it, because this is the last one I’m making,” Felix said with the air of a salesperson, “Locus will call the ambulance and make sure lover-boy here gets the medical treatment he needs, while you and I go for a little… trip. I pick up my favourite knife along the way, Wash gets his best chance at living and our boss gets to make some new friends. We all get what we want.”

Tucker could only glare, hurt and helpless as he was. Locus and Felix had the upper hand; Wash was bleeding out and possibly still drowning from whatever water might still be in his lungs and even if he had the slimmest hope of escape, it would take too long to transform again, and he very much doubted he could carry Wash with or without legs.

“This is only a limited time offer, Tucker. Decide now or your boyfriend gets another hole and his chances of survival go down further than they already are.”

Tucker looked to Wash, who had fallen into relative silence. He was soaking wet, with a dark stain on his shirt and the sand turning pink around him. He reached out to pull a lock of blonde hair out of Wash’s eyes, and was suddenly struck with a powerful sense of need. He couldn’t lose Wash, not after everything they’d done to be together, all those late nights and sunrises and ice-cream kisses, and they hadn’t even gotten to I love you yet and that wasn’t fair-

 “Alright!” Tucker cried. Tears clung to his eyes. It was all too much, and he knew he was making a selfish mistake, but the need was overwhelming. If leaving for migration had felt bad, losing Wash entirely was completely unbearable. “I’ll do it, just help him, please!”

He could hear Felix’s shark smile in the sick fucker’s voice alone. “There we go, now wasn’t that easy in the end? Well boys, you two have fun while I go get into gear.”

Felix stepped forward to clap Tucker on the shoulder. Tucker flinched away.

“We’ll head off in about, say, ten minutes? You better be ready, Tucker. Believe me, I will drag your mermaid ass the whole way there if I need to. Oh, and I shouldn’t have to tell you not to try and wander off. I think you’ve already done enough stupid things today.”

From the corner of his eye, Tucker saw Felix stomp away. A pit of shame was burning hot in his stomach.

Locus, still kneeling close, slid a first aid kit from his jacket and pulled out several bandages, which Tucker begrudgingly accepted. He bundled up some and pushed them into Wash’s wound, before awkwardly trying to wrap another around his chest while still keeping pressure.

Locus pushed his hand out of the way to press down on Wash, and again Tucker had no choice but to accept the help. Now with both hands free, he wrapped his own bandage as tight as he could, hoping it would hold.

Avoiding looking at Locus for more than he needed to, he gazed at Wash again and was startled to find two hazy blue eyes staring right back at him.

“Wash! You’re gonna be okay, Wash,” he said, leaning down and pressing his face in close.

“Don’t,” came Wash’s quiet, raspy reply. “Junior.”

Tucker took a moment to blink, and swallow back the lump in his throat before replying.

“I know, but I don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice cracking.

Wash’s eyes  shuttered closed and his head slumped back against the sand.

A ragged breath forced itself out of Tucker. “Just don’t die before I get back. Please.”

He leaned down and kissed Wash on the side of his temple, closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar smell of his wet hair. It was crazy to think that only a short while ago he’d been complaining about his morning breath and a stupid new sushi restaurant on the Avenue. Now, almost everything he held dear was dangling by a precarious thread- Junior, his colony, his own life, Wash-

 “If he dies, I’ll kill you,” Tucker said in Locus’ direction.

“That will end unfortunately for you,” the man said back, still applying pressure to the bullet wound.

Tucker laid himself down on the sand next to Wash, one hand on the bandage and the other twisting into his braids. Felix would be back soon, too soon. There was no time to think or room to breathe or any other stupid relevant idiom.

There had to be a way around this, an exit sign or easy escape or a plan that was just stupid enough to be smart-that was how it usually worked with him and his friends, right? He just wanted anything that didn’t involve him giving in to fear and betraying his people in the process.

When Tucker sat up again (with great difficulty) he turned to face the ocean, that big, deep, beautiful place where he’d lived for most of his life.

It was with dull surprise he registered that the sun had already begun to rise, casting rays of orange and yellow across the glimmering water. A small part of him cursed that they’d missed it (that was the whole reason they’d come out so early, after all), but perspective urged him that it didn’t matter anymore anyway.

At this point, it was likely neither he nor Wash would live to see the sunset either.