Chapter Text
Cub had always thought that mermaids didn't like to eat fish.
To him, it didn't seem like the wildest assumption. They're one in the same, aren't they? It's like if he suddenly decided, one dull morning, that he wanted to eat his neighbour. Nobody would ever do that. It was frowned upon, at least.
This assumption was the reason he always fished by the old lighthouse. From the ripe age of six all the way up to his thirties, he'd always been told not to fish there. Each fairy tale and folk story alike had been drilled into him through school lessons and bedtime stories alike.
But he was still down by the old lighthouse, casting out his line.
Why? Well, he didn't believe that nonsense. Mermaids don't exist. If they did, there would be some proof of it, right? A creepy dried carcass hung up in a museum, or something- but no such things existed. Cub called bullshit. It was too convenient, far too simple.
His guess was that the old owner of this place had made up some cheap story about mermaids stealing children to make sure kids didn't step on his lawn. In all honesty, Cub had considered living by the seashore too just to use that same excuse. His gardens have been utterly ruined by trampling little trespassers he can't give out to.
Cub let out an irritated sigh as another chilly breeze of air swept up the back of his shirt. For some forgotten reason, he'd decided to fish at night today. Maybe his past self had been seeking some kind of thrill, some adrenaline to get him through this boring day to the next. Cub wanted to punch his past self in the face for being an idiot, who clearly hadn't considered that the seaside is fucking cold.
There was no backing out now, though. Cold to the bone, Cub watched the moonlight shimmer on the gentle waves. He'd chosen a good night to fish, all things considered. There weren't any strong winds, and as much as he liked to complain about it, the weather could be worse. He should've been considering himself lucky.
Cub startled when he heard the fence post next to him creak, stumbling to his feet. His net had a catch? Usually the fish weren't strong enough to pull it, but that meant there was something big in there, right? Filled with sudden enthusiasm, he started to untie the knotted rope and wrapped it thrice around his forearms, prepared to reel in the catch.
He wasn't quite expecting to be tugged into the water instead. The cold hit like a slap to the face as he was pulled down into the salty depths, his lungs burning as he drank too much of it down in a desperate gulp for air. Was this seriously how he dies? He lost his footing on a stupid, slippery dock and now he paid with his life?
Cub found the cool air a lot more shocking than he'd found the original plunge. Waves lapped at his face as he sent two hands out to claw at whatever he could grab. He was nowhere near the dock, at least he thought he wasn't. It was difficult to see anything through the wet mop of a fringe that was currently stuck to his face.
Maybe his rude neighbour was right. Maybe he did need a haircut, but that was an issue for later.
He decided trying to swim back would be the best option, cupping his hands like he'd learned to in the one, singular swimming lesson he'd ever had as he pathetically paddled forward in the water. He was no swimmer. Maybe it would've been worth it to take a few more lessons, because Cub was now starting to freak the fuck out.
"This is—" No, this wasn't fine. Cub's mouth filled with water the second he tried to reassure himself, confused sputters and coughs rattling him as he fought his way to stay afloat. He could've sworn he heard someone laughing at him. Was someone else out here? Was this just a cruel prank?
After one particularly strong kick of his legs, Cub identified his second problem. Whoever decided it'd be funny to shove him into the sea in the middle of the night had also thought it'd be hilarious to tie his ankle in his own net. What a funny prank! Cub raised his middle fingers to the sky as long as the waves would let him, coughing on salt and seaweed alike.
He couldn't swim like this. Cub decided the beat course of action would be to hold his breath, dive under and untie the ropes. It couldn't be that hard, right? He smoothed his sopping hair off his face– mourning his lost glasses in the process— before he took the deepest breath he could muster and forced himself under the rolling waves.
Cub couldn't see a thing as his hands worked over the slimy ropes, bubbles obscuring his vision as he fought with the knots down there. At some point, his hands slid across a fish he'd caught and he screeched. Water flooded down his throat yet again, forcing him right back to where he'd started off. At least he'd caught something. Score.
"You seem to be having trouble there."
Cub screamed as loud as he could when two gross, slimy hands landed on his waist. Since he had no better weapons available to him, the fisherman caught his catch and slapped his assailant. With a fish. The stranger looked about as confused as any man would after being slapped with a fish of all things, his glassy green eyes wide.
"Well that was certainly rude," and suddenly, Cub was being laughed at. By the guy who he'd slapped with a fish. Who, now that he was looking at him properly, looked more "fish" than "guy". His skin was all grey and shiny, darker striped markings lining the underneath of his eyes and ending at the tips of his ears. Cub screamed again.
"Jeez, you're a loud one, aren't you?" Cub only stared at the fishman in horror. Why could he understand him? This wasn't normal, right? Had he died? Oh, he'd definitely died. He was in some awful fish-hell now and there was no saving him. Suddenly very angry that he'd been sentenced to a purgatory of flapping around in the sea, he tried to slap his attacker again. This time, the man bit the fish clean in half.
"T- Teeth."
"I have them, yup."
"You just-"
"I did," The fishman nodded. Cub gaped at him, waving the headless fish in his direction. "What were you expecting? It's good food. I'm Scar, by the way."
The fishman has a name. Cub would have fainted if he weren't so fascinated by all those teeth. Was it bad he wanted to poke them? He's already dead, so he might as well! He very slowly raised his bitten weapon and poked the fish's spine against Scar's big, jagged teeth. He ate the fish whole, right from Cub's hand.
He wasn't sure what else he was expecting.
"Did you do this?" He asked, shakily gesturing towards his tied up ankle.
Now that he was a bit more aware of his surroundings, Cub marvelled at how he'd been lifted right out of the water with ease. Scar his webbed hands cupped under each of his armpits, holding him up high enough that the waves would no longer bother him.
Scar nodded his head, "I'm not sure why I did, honestly. I thought it'd be funny if I tried to catch a human for once. You guys sure love trying to catch us."
"You're a fish?"
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
Oh, so the fish people have humour now? Cub was ashamed of himself for laughing, pushing the flats of his palms against his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was going on. Scar took his stunned silence as an opportunity to start moving him around, long slender fingers poking and prodding in all the places that made Cub's face light up like a Christmas tree.
"Hey, quit that-"
"Why, are you ticklish?"
"It's weird." "You're weird."
Cub sighed. Why, of all the fish people did he have to end up captured by one with such a large capacity for sarcasm? He ignored Scar's giddy laughter for his own peace of mind, silently appreciating that the mermaid had actually stopped when he'd been told to.
"Can you bring me back to the dock?"
"Aw, why? Aren't you enjoying my company?"
"I'm freezing."
"You'll be colder up there."
Cub pouted. It was a good enough retort for Scar to shrug his shoulders and start swimming, still holding Cub up like he was weightless. The rope must've been slashed when Cub wasn't paying attention, because he felt no tugging on his ankle as they went in closer to shore, the waves gentle enough for Scar to hold Cub against his side without any push from the water.
For a fishman, he was remarkably hot. Temperature wise, Cub meant. He definitely hadn't looked, or anything… but for what it's worth, Scar must've worked out a lot. Cub wondered how mermaids were supposed to get strong underwater as Scar lifted him right up onto the dock, landing with a quiet schlop next to his side.
"You can breathe up here?"
"I have a nose for a reason."
"Do you usually make people feel this stupid?"
"I'd consider it one of my many talents, yes."
Cub snorted so loudly it was like he'd never heard a joke before. This was ridiculous. He was laughing at a mermaid. A real, authentic mermaid, whose eyes shone under the moonlight. If he had to guess, Cub would say he was a shark. A shark mermaid. How peculiar. Not only did mermaids exist, but there were probably more than one kind. It made sense, in a completely nonsensical fairy tale type of way.
"So why did you go for my nets? I'm here every week, why now?" Cub hummed, slumping against the splintered wooden post. He dreaded explaining why it was broken to the rest of the village, seeing as "a mermaid did it" would be coming from the only sceptic in the village. Him.
"I've been watching you for a while," Scar started, holding his long winding tail in his arms. His tail fins twitched as he set them over Cub's lap. He must've been trying to keep him warm. Cub blushed, growing a sudden appreciation for the icky fish slime that was keeping him from turning into an icicle.
"You seemed like you needed company." Scar finished, flapping the fins on either side of his head. It was cute. God, why was it cute? Cub looked away.
"You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I did." he mumbled, "Thank you."
Cub hunched his shoulders. Scar was beaming at him again, he could see it in the corner of his eye, but he refused to face him. He was already dealing with the fact that mermaids existed. He didn't want to deal with the fact that he was growing fond of one.
"Are you going to swim off mysteriously now? Never to be seen again?" He joked, frowning as another cold gust of hair jostled his hair. He'd have to go home soon, he'd freeze to death otherwise.
"No," Scar sounded offended, slapping his hand over his chest, "not until I learn your name, no."
"Cub."
"What?"
"Cub. It's my name." Cub felt his cheeks getting hotter, shooting Scar a side eye. To his surprise, the mermaid was blushing a little too. At least, he hoped that dusting of darker grey over his nose was blush. Cub squinted. He had freckles. The shark had freckles.
"Well then, 'Cub', as enticing as being a mystery sounds, I think I'll be here tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Come see me. I can show you more than this little village ever could."
Cub raised his eyebrows. That was a big promise, one he was slightly suspicious Scar was bluffing about. He watched silently as the mermaid tugged himself back off the dock, his big tail screeching and squeaking against the wet wooden planks before he landed in the water with a loud splash.
"I'll think about it." Cub said, leaning over the waves with a big smile. "I will, honest."
"It's a date then." Scar said back to him, leaning up out of the water to press a very light kiss to Cub's lips. "Goodbye! You're a terrible fisherman, by the way."
Suddenly, a fishing net was hurled out of the water, landing right on top of Cub's head. He let out an angry shout and tossed it to the side, clambering back to the edge of the dock as his cheeks burned hotter than they ever had had before. Scar wasn't there.
"Bastard." Cub whispered, putting his fingers to his lips.
Huh. He'd kind of tasted like fish.