Chapter Text
The waves crash back and forth against the rocks, causing great amounts of white sea foam that reflect almost yellow against the fading sun. Judging by the deep purples in the sky, sunset is just on the horizon and he’s just in time to see it. The smell of salt in the air isn’t helped any by the sodium-laden burger and fries dripping grease in the bag next to him. It’s a boring ass Tuesday and Stiles isn’t even sure why he stopped the Jeep to eat here. He seriously doesn’t even know why this has become a thing.
Water, he’s recently become quite obsessed with it. Water and the purple-hued sky. In the middle of an after graduation ‘what the hell do I do with my life’ crisis, it calms him. The sound of the waves help him think and the sea salt refreshes his mind, opens it and makes Stiles feel like he can breathe again.
Because breathing, breathing is good and Stiles feels like he doesn’t do enough good breathing these days.
And okay, being dumped by your high school sweetheart is sort of a crushing thing too. It’s weird how little direction he has now that Lydia Martin has left him. The plans for Harvard, a school they’d applied to together, have quickly evaporated like the sea foam at his feet, and instead of drowning himself in beer and sobbing late night phone calls to Scott, Stiles has become motivationless. A person without any purpose. The planner, the one who had filled out his application three years early, Stiles Stilinski honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s worrying to his friends he’s sure and his dad tries to give him reassuring pats and nods, but everything sort of hurts and Stiles can only take so much sympathy before he has to drive away and just hide from everyone.
The fries and burgers help, though. Sure he’s probably put on ten pounds from eating this junk day after day, but fuck it, Lydia is gone, his whole plan is ruined and now he prefers just sitting and watching the Ocean tide to--actually doing anything. Let him get fat, let all his lectures to his dad about healthy eating flush down the toilet as Stiles get a small gut of his own. Honestly, Stiles grabs the first burger, who gives a shit?
Life sucks.
The first few bites are an angry mash and he nearly bites clean through his cheeks. It’s true, he’s not even supposed to be here, which sort of makes him feel a bit rebellious. This area is roped off as private, which had made him laugh the first time he saw it. It could have been from the high he was coming off of at the time, but Stiles had immediately decided that private now meant ‘only for Stiles Stilinski’ and he was happy to seclude himself down near the rocks where it would be hard for anyone to spot him.
He kind of wishes he had something to smoke right now but with the sounds of the waves, his eyes struggle to stay open as it is. His whole body feels relaxed and closing his eyes, he quickly forgets about the burger in his hand. Going lax, he feels his mind heading towards the great wide darkness of sleep.
And it’s too beautiful to stop.
Being a bitter bastard with a perchance to swallow his sorrows in fast food is exhausting and Stiles doesn’t sleep all that well to begin with. It’s nice to nap here down by the water. It’s really the only place he feels he gets any sleep at all. So no, Stiles is certainly not going to stop it, weird as it may be.
The unfinished burger tumbles from his hand and down into the sand. The wrapper keeps most of it intact, but in the end, the water claims the object.
The water and two webbed hands.
-----
Hazel green eyes have been watching the human for weeks now. Half hidden behind the rocks, Derek of the family of Hale, is not a happy merman.
The boy does this continually. Every day, in fact. Every day he comes into Derek’s territory, deposits his odd human body onto the sand and rocks and bemoans large amounts of negativity about his life. He is the loudest human Derek has ever come across and it’s not always his words that make him so rowdy. The boy himself is loud. His movement speaks volumes even when his mouth does not. Whether he is whistling or silent, spouting mumbled nonsense or speaking to no one at all, he is a bother. A giant bother Derek would be very happy to see leave.
For Derek of the family of Hale is a shell collector and this is his spot. He enjoys the peace and the quiet and this boy is very much a disruption. Many angry tail flickers have been spent waiting for the boy to leave so Derek can begin his collecting. Days have been wasted circling the water waiting for the imbecile to take his deformed human legs and leave.
Except now the human has taken to dozing off. Sleeping in Derek’s spot.
Which is utterly and completely unacceptable.
The waves move alongside his angry fin movements as he circles. Derek has seen it day after day, the boy disrupting his rhythm, refusing to leave for hours and forcing Derek to hide, but today he has done one worse.
Litter.
The human child has tossed litter into this home and for that, Derek can never forgive him. From the early days of his fishhood, Derek had heard of the selfish and lazy ways of humans. How they polluted the world with nary a care and had no qualms about using his home for their personal waste. Hearing and seeing are two very different things and Derek’s fins bristle as he grabs the object the boy has so carelessly let fall. He glares at the sleeping boy, huffing at how his head falls back and how--comfortable he looks when he really shouldn’t be. Derek wants to toss a shell at the messy haired boy but he adores his shells too much to let even one go. He places his seaweed bag to the side as he inspects the item in his webbed hand. It isn’t shiny or dangerous (that he can see) and it doesn’t smell of anything peculiar. Taking a small whiff, Derek might even say it smells--good.
The human had been eating it. In fact, he’d seen the boy eat many things from the different colored bags he always brought with him. It seems odd to Derek as he stares down at it. It certainly doesn’t look like food. Not any food Derek has ever seen. It must be though if the boy was eating it and truthfully, it does smell pretty--delicious.
Derek takes a tentative bite. It’s mushy from the water and the taste takes him a moment to process, it’s not bad certainly, just different. Sweet, salty, yet nothing like the kelp he’s used to. Within three tears he’s halfway through and his opinion is changing quite rapidly. It’s not only not bad--it’s delicious, well the middle part is. The outer part sticks to his tongue in an almost unpleasant way. Still, he’s happy to enjoy the middle part where most of the delicious flavor is.
It's good. Really good. No wonder the boy brings it so often.
It’s so good, it's actually a sad realization to note when the food is gone. Derek licks his lips, hoping to reawaken as much of the tasty flavor as he can, but sadly not much is left and he frowns. He will admit the tasty morsel simply wasn’t enough on its own. In fact, it had hardly even sated his most primal urge for nourishment and the merman finds, quite surprisingly, that he wants more.
A lot more.
Derek of the family of Hale wants more of the delicious food. He’s pretty sure he’s never wanted anything so much in his entire life, quite honestly. His shells, he might even give up a few if he were allowed another tasty treat from the bag. He studies the sleeping boy and the bag beside him, thoughtfully. He knows he’s being foolish but he turns his head and his tail twitches as he considers the boy and then the bag. Boy. Bag. Boy---bag. Smacking his lips and giving a determined nod, the merman moves forward up and out of the water. Peter would have laughed, his sisters would have scolded and his mother would have been utterly dismayed that her only son and heir was shimmying across the land on his belly--just for some food.
Derek grins, teeth sharp in anticipation.
Some very delicious, delicious food.
--
Murmuring and a huff, an annoyed hiss and then--crumpling? Yep, crumpling. A loud crumpling near his ear as something--slithers (slithers?) beside him. Stiles snorts the sounds away, swatting at air. He’s used to rude awakenings usually involving his father and a possible pillow to the head. Except instead of a soft pillow his hand meets something hard and solid. Very solid. Solid and--wet? It gives an audible slap and he squeezes to be sure, but yep, it’s definitely wet and it’s definitely solid and it might even be skin. Skin on a--bicep? A very, very firm bicep. He snorts, not sure why it’s funny, but the firm skin makes Stiles laugh and he moves his hand further down what is most definitely an arm and squeezes again.
Another hiss as he squeezes and Stiles’ laugh becomes a frown, “Scott?” he asks on reflex even knowing it isn’t and can’t possibly be his best friend. “Scott is that-”
The return growling grumble is deep with a throaty quality that makes Stiles’ skin prickle. Not Scott, definitely not Scott.
Eyes flashing open, he goes from complete darkness to a moving blur of colors and has to blink away film several times. His eyes strain and he squints to make sure what he’s seeing in real, because if it is-- “Holy shit.”
Two wide eyes in a borderline way too pretty face stare wide and alarmed at him. It’s hard to notice the small details other than what is obviously a man has almost an entire mashed up burger in his mouth and he seems to be--chewing--or more like destroying the object, wrapper and all.
“Hey, dude, don’t,” Stiles sits up and the man growls warningly and something thumps heavily in the sand alongside the sound. Stiles is still too dazed to notice immediately that something is very wrong, but he frowns at the burger and points, shooting up so he can sit levelly with the man, “Hey, that’s mine, you--”
The word asshole falls off as Stiles realizes a few very important things. He observes everything with shock. The man is soaking wet. Literally soaking as if he’d just come out of the ocean and hasn’t bothered to towel off. His hair is plastered to his forehead and it drips all over the burger in his mouth. There’s muddied up sand up and down his arms and torso almost as he’d crawled or rolled in it but mostly it’s his ears--and you know, the lack of feet.
“What the-” The ears are more pointed than they should be and the feet--well buddy, those don’t even exist. Unless you counted the long single slab of scaly blue--something thumping in the sand. Stiles studies the man’s face again, which is looking rather displeased, “What the hell are you?”
Stiles isn’t an idiot, he knows he’s either dreaming or hallucinating some weird fantasy he must not have realized he was into, but okay, it’s hot. The man is hot anyway. The mashed up burger all over his face, not so much, but he’s definitely feeling those hazel eyes, dark hair and that sharp nose. Stiles is way into exploring his bisexuality which he’d finally freed about a year ago and if this was the way to do it--a fantasy--then…Stiles blinks and exhales a deep breath.
God, that’s tail, isn’t it?
“A mermaid?” Was that Stiles’ thing? He honestly couldn't say he'd ever thought of mermaids before, but fair enough.
The man--(merman?) growls again, his cheeks puffed with the sandwich as he aggressively eyes Stiles. It might have been intimidating, except not only is Stiles convinced this is a dream but the man-fish looks more--adorable than threatening.
“You have to take that part off.”
Especially with half of a Carl’s Jr. wrapper hanging from his mouth.
The merman gives a long blink. As if he doesn’t understand. Stiles sighs, but there’s a small tug on his lips as he reaches into the bag. “God, you’ve soaked everything,” he chastises the imaginary dream man--fish--thing. He grabs the remaining burger (yes, he had gotten three) and realizes with slight amusement that the fish man is, in fact, eating the fish sandwich. “Um--dude,” he stops, figuring the man wouldn’t understand anyway. He holds the burger out to display and the man’s giant brows slant down and Stiles tries not to think he might attack him or something. “Like this,” Stiles shows, peeling the wrapper off, rolling it into a ball and tossing it beside him, “You have to take it off, man.”
Giving another blink, the merman studies Stiles burger as if he might just take it for himself, which soaked and disgusting as it is Stiles will gladly give it to the hallucination, but instead of stealing it, the man rips the sandwich from his own mouth and mimics the motion, unwrapping the sandwich as best as he can. He then takes a scoot forward and rather astonishingly, drops not only his wrapper but also Stiles’ into the bag.
He gives a pointed glare as he scoots back again.
“Wow, an earth-conscious mermaid, who’d have thought?”
“You try swimming around in garbage all day,” the man snaps.
“Yeah well, I guess,” And Stiles’ realizes. “Holy shit, you can talk?” His imaginary very hot mermaid can talk? “Dude, that’s awesome.”
The man squishes his face as he starts to rip back into his sandwich, it’s not exactly a refined way of eating, but Stiles isn’t one to judge really. “How is knowing a basic skill, awesome?” he snarks through the sandwich.
So his dream fantasy merman lacks basic dining skills, Stiles can still roll with it. “Well I mean, it’s cool when my dreams talk back, you know. Like I almost feel this is a real conversation.”
“Are you a flounder head?” the man asks. Judging by the tone, Stiles is willing to bet a flounder head is something like an idiot.
“No, I’m not a--what does that even mean?” Stiles shakes his head. “Look, you’re obviously not real and this whole fantasy thing is turning out a lot different than I thought it would.”
“Fantasy?” the man’s mouth is full of fish sandwich. He looks to be near done and now he’s eyeing Stiles’ burger. He offers it and the man snatches it up in his webbed fingers. He barely breathes from one item to the next and the condiments slurp as they his wide shoulders and even tumble down his very toned abdomen.
Stiles is sure he’s starting. He’s partly disgusted at the sounds and slurps, but mostly he’s getting...god this man, thing, fish, whatever it is can really tear into something, can't he? It’s animalistic and like he said a little disgusting, but it’s also really kind of hot.
“Yeah, fantasy, you know, not real. I mean I know you’re not real. You’re hot, though,” Stiles licks his lips as he watches the rest of the burger disappear. “Like super hot.”
“The weather is agreeable,” the man disagrees flatly. “I am not warm.”
“No,” Stiles flushes, not sure why he cares that a dream is giving him such an odd look. “Nevermind.”
“You will throw this away,” the man orders, pointing to the bag. “This is not your private trash dump.”
Now his dream man is chastising him? “Yeah, okay. You know I kind of thought this would be a bit-” he stops on the word sexier, because it’s a shame that with sleek muscles and such a pretty face, the merman seems more interested in food and recycling than Stiles.
“I’ll know if you don't,” the man continues.
“Christ, I already said I would,” Stiles scoffs. He can see the man is starting to move back towards the ocean and it’s way more erotic than it should be, watching a man push himself on only his elbows, a giant tail behind him. “ Not even a thank you?” What an utterly shitty fantasy. Would it be wrong to touch the scales, just to see what they feel like? They shimmer so many colors of blue and they look surprisingly soft. “Jeez, you could at least kiss me or something.”
The man stops, turning to look at Stiles with confusion, “Kiss you? Why on earth would I kiss you?”
Stiles huffs. Even in his dreams, he can’t get laid. If he can even figure out how one screws a merman that is, “I mean I did feed you and well as a fantasy you haven’t done anything very fantasy-ish.” He waves his hands back and forth between them.
“I-” the man falters, flipping his way almost elegantly so he’s sitting on his tail. “I should kiss you?” There’s a tiny bloat to his tummy that seems to say the burgers are sitting quite comfortably in the man’s stomach.
“How much did you eat?” Stiles asks. “You ate all three, didn’t you?”
“I thought you wanted a kiss?” the man snaps.
Stiles crosses his arms at the worst fantasy ever, “You’re kind of taking the romance out of it.”
The man rolls his eyes and it’s done so dramatically Stiles is sure there’s a thirteen-year-old girl living in what appears to be an adult male merman. “If you want it, come here.”
“Now, you’re really--”
The human part that stops just before the pelvis darts forward, reaching almost impossibly far as he grabs Stiles to him. Pulling the boy from the sand in a vicious tug, the merman's strength is a-quite unbelievable and b-really fucking hot.
The kiss ain't bad either. In fact, with the wetness of his lips and how cool his skin feels as Stiles grabs his shoulders, once again, very solid, Stiles would almost say it feels and tastes pretty damn spot on. It sort of makes him ask the question, “Are you real?”
The merman shifts back and Stiles regrets having the lips pulled away. He was quite enjoying the taste. Salty with just a hint of leftover burger.
“You’re strange,” the man acknowledges bluntly.
“You’re,” Stiles pats his arms around as his mind supplies just how true and right everything feels (minus the tail). “You’re real?”
“My uncle always said you humans were simple, but this is ridiculous.”
“No, I mean. You’re real. Real, like you really just kissed me,” Stiles babbles over the idea. “I mean this is, you’re actually here.”
The merman studies him, “I gave you your kiss for the food.” It sounds like a goodbye and Stiles isn’t surprised when he starts heading back towards the water again.
“Hey. Wait, um.” Mermaid. Real mermaid, there’s a real mermaid, and he’s leaving and Stiles might never see him again. The idea makes him panic a bit, “Wait!”
“You really are loud,” the man returns sourly. “Everyday you come here you do nothing but make noise. What is it?”
Stiles reddens, “You’ve been watching me?”
The merman waves his arms, “This is my area, of course, I’ve been watching you. But I’ll have to leave it now thanks to you,” he grumbles. “I know your people’s interests. You’d hunt us down and use me and my family for fish meat.”
“No,” the idea makes Stiles shout. “No, never. I promise I won’t tell anyone or anything, just don’t leave.”
The merman huffs as his tail reaches the water. He sits halfway out of it and doesn’t quite glare, “Why should I trust you? You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side. I have no reason to believe anything you say.”
“I-” Stiles searches for a reason. His mind works through reason after reason but the most obvious one is the first one his tongue finds. “I’ll bring you more. More of the food.”
Blue fins flicker up against the water, almost in what appears interest, “More?”
Stiles nods, feeling like he’s literally got the fish on his hook, “Totally. I can bring lots more. Like loads more. I can bring you all kinds of stuff.”
“All kinds?” his eyes definitely light up a bit at that.
“Yeah dude, there’s like so many. I can bring you so many it would blow your mind,” Stiles thinks of the combinations and how he could stretch it out for weeks, maybe even months or longer. “Just like, don’t leave. I’ll keep this place secret, I promise.”
The merman moves further into the water, but his face is thoughtful, “I’ll consider it.”
“So you’ll be here. If I come back tomorrow and bring you something, you’ll be here?”
Green eyes and really what sort of person (man or fish) is allowed to have such pretty eyes, narrow. “I’ll be here.” It sounds more like a threat than anything, but Stiles takes it.
“Cool, I’ll just,”
And he’s talking to the empty water.
Stiles stops and takes a moment to breathe through what he’s still not convinced was real. He’s not even sure if the merman has a name. He’s sort of mad he didn’t think to ask.
“Cool.”
It’s an automatic motion to rise and take the bag, duck under the restricted sign and toss the bag into the nearest trash can. He thinks about it more and more and he’s not sure what to call the merman. An acquaintance, a friend? Had he just acquired a recycling conscious sassy ass mermaid as a friend?
A friend who had kissed him?
God, he needs a name to go with that kiss. Did merpeople like pizza? And more importantly, would he kiss him again if Stiles asked. Stiles licks his lips and takes one look back before nodding.
Only one way to find out.