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Derek remembered the way the water rushed over him, causing him to panic as his arms and legs thrashed violently against the choppy water in desperation. He could hear the shouts of his family even as the water overpowered his senses. He thought he was going to die. He remembered the panic and fear that gripped him tightly as he only sank deeper and deeper into the dark water.
Derek thought he was hallucinating when he saw the flash of a golden orange fin flutter by him. He was even more certain when he felt a pair of slender arms wrap around his torso, pulling him up to the surface of the water.
Derek was grateful when he caught the rope dropped to him, the ship’s crew and his whole family panicking as they shouted to him. He kept his eyes on the water as he searched for whoever—whatever—had saved him. He caught a glimpse of a young boy, whose head was just breaching the water, eyes looking after the ship. Derek ignored the way his mother and sisters fawned over him, cooing gentling words of relief—words lost on Derek as he focused on looking out at the water, searching for more hints of the boy.
Derek waited by the dock once they reached shore, his eyes scanning the calm waves for another glimpse of the boy. He had caught sight of the boy following after the ship, amazed whenever the boy disappeared under the water before resurfacing, almost as if he was making his presence known to put Derek to ease.
Derek was sitting on the dock, his legs dangling over the side as he waited. He smiled when he saw the boy shyly surface, his nose and mouth still covered by the water. He wasn’t surprised when the boy moved faster than most could swim in order to come by Derek’s side.
“Thank you,” Derek uttered when the boy was close enough.
The boy’s eyes snapped to look at Derek, leaving his previous scanning of the docks in order to take in his form. He finally moved his mouth above the water to speak. “You can’t swim,” was the first thing the boy said.
A shiver ran up Derek’s spine at hearing the boy’s voice for the first time. It was like nothing he ever heard before. His voice was soft, almost angelic with a slight touch of childish nature. Derek suddenly understood what the sailors would jest was the call of the sea.
Derek made a noise of surprise when he saw an orange fin break the water’s surface next to the boy’s body. “You’re a merman,” he quickly uttered.
“Merman?” The boy questioned, moving closer to Derek. “Is that what you call my people?”
Derek nodded. “Can you … breathe under water?” He asked in interest, a small blush creeping across his cheeks as he looked on in awe at the boy’s ability to bob his body in the water with ease.
“I can,” the boy replied with a toothy grin. “I can swim faster than most fish too.”
“That’s amazing,” Derek commented. “I’m not the best swimmer. My sisters always make fun of me for it,” he added, small embarrassment washing over him.
“They shouldn’t,” the boy answered. “I can’t walk on land, and that’s no reason to mock me.”
Derek smiled as he looked down at the boy. His smile faltered when he saw the perplexed look on the boy’s face.
“I wasn’t supposed to help you,” the boy finally confessed, a frown falling across his features. “We’re not supposed to help you,” he corrected himself.
“There are more of you?” Derek asked.
“Few, but more,” the boy elaborated. “Every year we lose another member of our clan.” He features soured as he thought about it. “Sailors think they can gain riches by cutting off our tail to sell. Our tails decay and break when we die, leaving the sailors with nothing but anger in their hearts for feeling cheated.”
“That’s awful,” Derek stated, his eyes catching sight of the boy’s tail piercing the water’s surface. “It is beautiful, but I’d never dream of separating it from you.”
The boy smiled, leaning back as he let his tail float to the surface, his body buoying at the action. “That’s why I helped you. You’re different.”
“You can tell that?” Derek asked as he leaned forward.
“You have a kind soul,” the boy confirmed. He moved his tail back allowing himself to elevate his body up above the surface more in order to get closer to Derek.
“You’re unlike any folktale I’ve ever heard about merfolk,” Derek offered in return. “You saved me, when all I’ve ever heard is stories about how your people strive to drown any human you come across.”
A flash of hurt crossed the boy’s features. “Pulling a human to the depths is a far kinder death than being left to dry out in the sun,” he challenged. “Or to be cut in half.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Derek honestly replied. “You’re just … different from everything I know.”
“As you are for me,” the boy stated.
They talked about many different things, the boy always ducking down beneath the dock whenever a person would dare to walk by. The boy even sang for Derek, his songs mimicking so many of the shanties he heard the sailors singing on the voyage. Derek was shy and embarrassed when the boy asked to see his feet, curious about the concept of legs, specifically toes and feet. He couldn’t help laughing when the boy’s fingertip caressed the soft arch of his foot, unintentionally tickling him. The boy offered to allow Derek to touch his tail—something that the boy admitted was not often done.
Derek helped the boy up onto the dock, allowing him to sit against the wood as his tail dangled off the edge, his fins dipping just beneath the water. Derek looked at the boy, uncertain he should continue his action to touch his tail. The boy merely rolled his eyes, capturing Derek’s hand in his own before he placed his open palm on his tail, where Derek assumed his thigh would be if he had legs.
The scales were slick, almost slippery to touch with his bare hand. Derek smiled as the scales moved slightly, a reaction similar to a goose bump on humans. The boy flushed when he heard Derek nearly mumble how beautiful it was. He explained to Derek that tail color is often inherited from parents, but that he was lucky to receive a beautifully colored tail that mixed his father’s dull burnt orange tail with his mother’s vibrant golden one.
The boy’s head snapped up at the mention of his father, worrying his lip when he saw the sun setting.
“I should leave. My father will be worried about me,” the boy stated as he turned his head to look out towards the sea. He lowered himself back into the water, turning to look at Derek once more. He stared at him, evaluating his features before he finally moved to speak. “I wish … I wish for the sea to never claim you,” he explained. “But I can’t always keep my eye on you.”
“I could learn to swim,” Derek answered, a rueful smile crossing his lips.
“Aye, that would help,” the boy partially giggled.
The sound was music to Derek’s ears—the most delightful sound he ever heard.
“I wish to ask if I may give you a gift,” the boy finally stated as he reached his arms up to rest them against the dock’s wood, his neck arched in order to look up at Derek better.
“I would cherish it,” Derek admitted.
“It will keep you safe while sailing,” the boy explained. “The sea will never let you die in its embrace if you accept it.”
“What is it?” Derek curiously asked.
The boy’s pink tongue dashed across his lips, Derek’s eyes following the motion. Derek had never before wondered what it would feel like to kiss another person. But he wondered what it would feel like to press his lips against the boy’s.
“A kiss from a merfolk protects a sailor for life,” the boy explained.
Derek looked away from Stiles, a faint blush reddening his cheeks. “I … I’d like that,” he stated.
“I would as well,” the boy answered. “My name, by the way, is Stiles.”
“Stiles,” Derek stated the boy’s name, testing the way it felt on his tongue. “That’s a really unique name,” he commented, leaning closer to Stiles.
“As unique as a merman saving a human,” Stiles answered, following Derek’s lead as he too begun to lean closer.
Derek was amazed at how soft Stiles’ lips felt, a hint of salty water still gracing them. Stiles used his strength to push up into Derek’s embrace, tilting his head into Derek’s open palm. They both held onto each other as time seemed to still, nothing but their embrace—their kiss consuming them both.
It wasn’t until Stiles finally pulled back, promising to return when he could to visit Derek, that Derek realized he was dangerously leaning over the edge of the dock. He watched with great sorrow as Stiles swam away from the harbor. He was thankful Stiles turned back, waving to him one last time before disappearing under the water completely.
Derek waited years, never catching so much as a glimpse of Stiles. He returned to the dock out of habitual routine, constantly waiting until dusk to return home. He finally stopped the night his family died—the night of the fire. He didn’t bother to look at the dock after that, almost blaming it for stealing time from him that he could have spent with his family. He turned to his last living relative, his uncle Peter, following in his footsteps as he trained him in the ways of piracy. When his uncle retired, Derek took his place as captain of the Lupine’s Revenge and earned a name for himself amongst pirates and sailors alike.
It had been more than twenty years, Derek never meeting Stiles again after parting ways from him. Derek almost thought it was a dream he had made up, often times catching himself staring out at sea whenever the Lupine’s Revenge was anchored for a night of celebration. His loneliness was only consoled when he would dive deep into the sea, deeper than any sailor dared to go for fear of drowning. The hollowing in his heart slowly dissipated the deeper he swam, every inch he gained was a step closer to the dark oblivion of the sea.
Derek never felt the burn of his lungs prepared to pop from the stress of holding his breath. He never felt the fear of drowning clutch him. He stayed for minutes longer than seemed humanly possible, his entire crew fascinated by his feats. For years, his breath never caught in his lungs as he faired the sea’s dangers, almost never making port unless it was necessary.
On one uneventful day, it all changed.
Derek’s crew had the nets in the water, attempting to capture a number of fish, ranging from small game to sharks and whales. Derek was singing one of the many shanties, a way to make the time pass easier. That was when he heard the commotion coming from deck, forcing him to abandon his post by the helm. He pushed through his crewmates as he came to stand in front of them.
Derek’s breath caught in his lungs when he saw the flicker of a vibrantly orange tail. He heard the gasps coming from the others when he saw that the other half of the fish was actually human.
It looked like a young boy, barely reaching manhood, as it struggled with the ropes wrapped around it. The tail slammed into the deck as it struggled back and forth in desperation, panicked by no longer being in the water’s safety.
“It’s a mermaid,” one of the crewmates stated in amazement.
“It’s male, you moron,” another crewmate snapped.
The merman managed to get his top half free, hands pulling at the net as it struggled.
“You’re going nowhere, lad,” someone stated, his tone sounding almost amused.
The merman looked up, prepared to say something when his eyes caught Derek’s. His eyes widened in shock, a flash of hurt befalling his features.
Stiles.
Stiles had matured since they last met. His fin was larger, his upper body graced with broad shoulders and elegantly long arms. If it was possible, his eyes looked larger than before—giant, gorgeous orbs of warm, sun kissed whiskey. His moles were still as prominent as before on his pale, milky skin. He was still breathtakingly beautiful.
“You took my gift and became one of them,” Stiles’ sounded betrayed as he hissed the words at Derek, the sound of his tail slamming against the ship’s deck only hammering his words in deeper.
Derek remained silent as he knelt, easily cutting the net’s rope against the grunting protests of the crew.
Stiles leaned away from Derek, his glare flickering between Derek’s eyes and the knife in his hand as the ropes fell away from Stiles’ tail. His tail started to calm some, his fins curling away from the other crewmembers as he tried to tuck himself into a smaller shape.
“They’re dangerous,” one of the crewmembers stated.
“Their tails though,” another crewmember thoughtfully began.
Stiles’ eyes dashed towards the owner of those words, baring his sudden fangs and hissing as his gills flared. His eyes glowed in challenge for any of them to get close to him, his skin flaring as his scales started to drop their camouflage as they reflected against the sunlight. He did his best to look terrifying to a group of men who saw him as nothing but a fish flopping against the deck of their ship. And it may have worked, if he was still in the water.
“Their tails are useless,” Derek finally stated, catching Stiles’ attention as well as the rest of the crew. “They turn to ash if you cut them off.”
“Do you know from experience, captain?”
“Aye, I do,” Derek lied, knowing Stiles caught it when he let the glow fade from his eyes.
Stiles watched Derek, waiting for him to decide his fate. He eyes darted towards the knife, holding his breath as Derek slammed the blade into the ship’s deck, next to Stiles’ tail.
Derek moved, kneeling next to Stiles. “Put your arms around my neck,” he gruffly stated.
Stiles stared at Derek, both surprised and uncertain. He slowly moved his arms to secure them around Derek’s neck. He continued to study Derek’s face as he lifted him in his arms, one arm secured around his back as the other supported a good amount of his tail. Stiles knew his tail wasn’t light, especially out of water, making him eternally grateful for Derek’s strength.
Derek took the few steps necessary to place Stiles on the deck’s railing, keeping an arm tightly wrapped around his waist as he bent to help Stiles lift his tail.
Stiles was surprised at how weak he already felt from being out of water for such a short time. He kept his hands on Derek, slowly letting them fall from their place around his neck. His hands ran a short course as they grazed just beneath the opened folds of Derek’s shirt, his fingertips lightly brushing against his skin. He remembered the warmth from the day he held Derek’s face in his hands. But Derek was older now, and his skin was sun kissed and ruggedly firm, different from his once soft boyish features. His pulse, however, still beat as sharply as ever, a constant rhythm Stiles could feel through his fingertips.
“Get back to work,” Derek barked when he noticed the crew was still crowding Stiles.
“You’re letting it go?” a crewmember asked.
“If you wish to kill him and have his kind follow us to the end of our days, so be it,” Derek sharply replied.
Some of the crew mumbled, however they all dispersed and moved a good distance away from them.
Stiles was hesitant to let Derek go, his fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to keep him close. He had told the truth when he admitted that he didn’t want the sea to claim Derek as her own, but he didn’t want the land to take him either. He felt cheated from what he really wanted.
“You didn’t come back,” Derek softly stated, his arms still holding Stiles in an embrace. He looked down at the water lapping against the side of the ship instead of looking at him. “I waited for you to come back, and you didn’t. Years passed and nothing. I thought for a while that I made you up.”
“The currents changed,” Stiles weakly answered, ashamed that he couldn’t navigate his way back to Derek without the help of the currents. “I was too young, but then when I was old enough—when I found my way back, you were gone.”
“It’s been more than twenty years, Stiles,” Derek stated as he finally turned to look at him. “That’s a lifetime in human years.”
“I never wanted to make you wait,” Stiles replied.
“I waited until—”
“I know,” Stiles stopped him, his palm pressing up against Derek’s heart. “When I found my way back to the dock, I waited.” He paused as he watched Derek’s fingertips subconsciously caressed a few of his tail’s scales—despite the years, Derek’s touch was as gentle and loving as before. “I waited underneath that awful contraption for eight days. And on the eighth day, I heard a few sailors speaking about a Captain Hale,” he explained. “I didn’t know what a captain was, but I remembered your last name. I listened to them speak of you and what happened to your family. I’m so sorry, Derek. I sang my people’s song of mourning for them, frightening drunken sailors away from the docks in herds,” he faintly smiled when Derek released a small laugh at the mental image. “I waited to hear word of where you were rumored to be. I was trying to find you, that’s why I was so close to the surface—to your nets.”
“That was foolish,” Derek finally stated, his eyes focused on the way Stiles’ tail furled against the railing.
“No, it wasn’t,” Stiles admitted. “Because I recognized your voice.”
Derek finally looked up at Stiles, slightly perplexed. “My voice has changed.”
“It’s deeper,” Stiles stated. “But still has the same inflections and melody. For merfolk, as you call us, we recognize each other through our voices. It’s the way we call out to each other when the water is too dark—if we’re lost, it’s how we find each other again. I followed the sailor’s stories, only so far, until I knew I heard your voice. And I followed it right into your net.”
“Why?” Derek finally asked, looking into Stiles’ eyes.
“Is it not obvious?” Stiles asked in return, his hand clutching a clump of Derek’s shirt.
Derek paused, a small flicker of realization crossing his features before he shook his head in response. “You need to get back in the water, Stiles,” he weakly countered.
Stiles’ eyes flickered back and forth across Derek’s features, searching for something in desperation. “If I go back in the water, I’ll lose you again.”
“And if you stay out of the water, you’ll die,” Derek answered, sternly looking at Stiles.
“Then come with me,” Stiles softly replied. He allowed a small smile to grace his lips when Derek looked at him. “We’ll live on both land and sea,” he quietly sang, reaching a hand up to cup Derek’s cheek. “I saw inside you that day, Derek, and I know that in my heart, I’m meant to belong with you.”
Derek hesitated before moving a hand to covers Stiles’, holding his open palm against his cheek. “I’ll wither and die, Stiles,” he explained. “It’s human nature not to live long.”
“Even more reason to live on land and sea,” Stiles smirked. “I told you the sea would never claim you as long as you had my kiss,” he smoothed his thumb over Derek’s bottom lip, the pad of his thumb resting almost in the corner of Derek’s mouth. “And you still have it,” he breathlessly sighed, his eyes honing in on the spot, as if he could still see the outline of his kiss gracing Derek’s lips.
Derek’s eyes searched Stiles’ face, memorizing just how similar it looked to the day they met. He brushed his fingers across Stiles’ cheek, following the curve of his cheekbone.
“Come be with me,” Stiles gently whispered.
Derek nodded his head in agreement, his own smile matching Stiles’ as they leaned in to press a kiss against the other’s lips.
Derek remembered the way the water rushed over him, his arms and legs calm as he held onto Stiles. He could hear the small sounds of the water choppily hitting the side of the Lupine’s Revenge. He knew he wouldn’t die, and even if he did, it would be in the arms of the only person left that mattered. He remembered the calm that overwhelmed him as they swam deeper and deeper into the dark water. Stiles’ weight anchored him as the sea washed away the sorrow and loneliness he felt for the last decades.
And Derek knew he wasn’t hallucinating when the warmth and comfort of Stiles’ body enveloped him, his strong arms pulling him further away from the surface.