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It was another dreary morning when Simon opened the door with his fishing pole, tackle box, and cooler in hand. He had spent the previous day going into town to stock up on other essentials, and now he needed to go out to sea and get some meat for the next few days. He had grown more accustomed to the taste of fish over the last few years of living in the lighthouse. It wasn't his first choice of residence, but he was being paid to live there and handle the upkeep.
Apparently, it was some kind of landmark, and the town was having a hard time finding someone willing to live in the place. It was far from town, and the frequent storms this time of year made it hell because there was no internet or cable to keep the occupants entertained. Simon didn't mind; he was accustomed to sitting for hours, days, even weeks with nothing to do. It was just part of the job when you're in the military, sitting around and waiting for orders. At least he has a bit of a better view out here than in some of the places he'd been stationed.
He never thought he'd leave the military, never saw himself making it out of service on his own two feet, and not in a bag or even a small box. He should be grateful, he got to live, got to experience a normal civilian life, and not have that needling anxiety in the back of his mind that today could be the day a bullet finds its way between his eyes.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the morbid thoughts, groaning as he trudged down the stone walkway to the small dock on the beach. The boat had seen better days, but it was a nice project he picked up on not long after moving in, and it served him well when the water was calm enough for him to sail out a bit and waste his day fishing. He climbed into the old rickety thing and pushed off from the dock, rowing his way out until the only thing he could see with clarity on the shore was the lighthouse he called home.
The ocean was always quiet at this time of day, most boats were still anchored at the docks, and most fishers were either getting ready for their days or still curled up in bed, avoiding the cold of the morning. It was the perfect time for Simon to snatch up a few good fish to last him a few days and give him time to just exist outside of the walls of the lighthouse.
He prepared his line, tossed it out as far are his untrained swing could send it, and made himself comfortable as he lifted his thermos of hot tea to his lips to take a slow drink to warm his cold body. Days were starting to become shorter, the weather colder, and it wouldn't be long until snow began to fall and cover the beach and the small garden he had in front of his home. Simon was looking forward to the cold, as much as his body seemed to dislike the drop in temperature; his joints aching, the old scars becoming too dry and stinging him, and his fingers going numb without a hand warmer at the ready. He still enjoyed it, because it meant he was going to see a certain someone more often.
Almost as if his thought had summoned the creature, he felt something tug on his pole and reeled in his first catch of the morning. A fish that was not commonly found this close to shore and of a staggering size. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he brought the fish onboard and tossed it into his cooler before adding more bait onto his hook and sending it back out into the water.
Simon knew about selkies; it was hard not to when you've been around the world as often as he had been. He'd seen several creatures believed to be just myth, even helped a few of them in his time in the service. It was always a treat to meet them; they were so interesting, had a fascinating way of viewing the world, and over his years he'd met a selkie or two, even helped them when one came to him distressed over a soldier having stolen their skin. He wasn't an expert on their culture or even their history, but he knew enough, and he made quick work of that soldier getting the skin back to the selkie and never saw them again. He looked more into their history after that, did some reading to see what he could learn.
He knew that selkies would often help with hunting if they saw promise in a potential mate, and with each new fish he reeled in, he could guess that he probably showed some real promise to the selkie beneath his boat. He did catch a few smaller fish, ones the selkie didn't hand to him, but they would still serve as a decent meal. As the sun was beginning to rise higher into the sky, Simon wrapped it up and started to head home, taking his time on the dock to get his things in order.
He groaned, climbing out of the old boat and setting the cooler of the fish he caught on the edge of the dock, picking through it and pulling out the fish he caught, and setting them in a bucket he kept tied to the dock. He looked over the haul before nodding, closing his cooler, grabbing his gear, and heading inside. He tried not to smile as he heard the bucket tip over and the dead fish inside fall into the water. He didn't look back, knowing that the selkie had found and once again taken his offering. He wondered if he'd ever get to meet them.
~.~.~.~
A yawn escaped Simon's mouth as he opened the door to the small porch in front of his home, stepping out to let the cold morning air wash over him, waking him as he enjoyed the soothing sounds of the waves. He lifted his mug to his lips, taking a slow sip of the warm tea inside, furrowing his brows as the high-pitched screeching of seagulls reached his ears. They weren't typically drawn to his end of the beach; he kept the area clean, so there wasn't any food for them to scavenge from the sand. It wasn't a tourist spot either; people chose to go to more well-known beaches, less crowded with fishing activity. Simon was typically the only one around, especially in the colder months. He squinted, looking down the path to see what had drawn them over, and couldn't stop the crease between his brows settling in deeper at the sight that greeted him.
The bucket of fish he'd left out for the selkie was being raided by the seagulls, which wasn't right. The selkie always took the fish he caught, without fail. Sometimes, they didn't even wait for him to finish leaving the area before grabbing their bounty, but this time, the fish was left untouched. It hurt Simon to think that maybe he'd done something to upset the selkie, and this was their way of telling him so, but that couldn't be it.
He racked his brain, trying to think of some slight that he had done against the selkie, but nothing would come forth. He'd done the same thing every day without fail, a true creature of habit. If that was what had upset the selkie so much, then there was nothing that could have been done. He blew out a huff of air, bringing his mug back to his lips, trying to think when he noticed one of the seagulls break off from the cluster surrounding the quickly depleting fish and fly down the beach. Logically, he knew following the seagull would be stupid, that the chances of the selkie being wherever the bird was going were slim to none, but he didn't have any other leads, and he'd gone into ops with arguably worse odds. So, Simon followed it anyway.
He wrapped his coat tighter around his body, set his mug down just inside his home so the seagulls wouldn't get any ideas of trying to take over his doorstep, and followed the bird down the length of the beach until he found an alcove. From the way everything was soaked with seawater, he could guess that it was only accessible during low tide, which he was lucky to have arrived during.
He looked around the area, knowing it was stupid to have followed the bird anyway, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Then it hit him, the familiar tangy metallic scent of blood, he'd known that smell intimately for years, couldn't miss it, couldn't erase it from his memory if he tried. He looked closer into the darkness of the small alcove, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the low light. Finally, his eyes landed on what was hiding within the alcove.
A man.
A naked man covered with the soft skin of a seal, but a man. It took Simon only a few seconds to realize what was in front of him and only a few more to realize this was more than likely the selkie who'd been helping him fish and who'd been taking his offered fish. He stepped into the alcove, his steps slow and steady, so he didn't slip on a rock and end up knocking himself out to drown when the tide came back in. He checked the selkie over, took stock of him; his breathing was mostly steady, a bit more shallow than Simon would have liked. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought the man was just sleeping, but he did know better, and carefully, with the softest touch he could manage, he lifted the seal skin from his body and looked at his legs.
The sight that greeted him would have made a less experienced man shudder. There was no kind way of saying it, his leg had been torn to shreds; blood covered the once smooth, sun-kissed skin, deep gashes stretching down the thigh and into the calf with bits of bone visible through the carnage. He let the skin settle back down over the wound, not wanting to expose it more to air and risk other seagulls catching the scent of blood and descending upon them like a pack of sharks smelling chum.
Simon didn't bother to weigh his options, just reached down again, carefully lifting the selkie into his arms, keeping his pelt safely tucked between them as he carried him out of the alcove and back to his home. His leg would need a professional hand tending to it, and he knew a doctor who wouldn't ask too many questions. He just needed to make sure the man in his arms first had something on him and his pelt safely stored.
Simon brought the selkie up to his bed, taking extra care on the stairs, with it being such a tight fit, not wanting to bump his injury and cause more damage. He took his time setting him up, not caring if his sheets were going to be ruined with the combination of blood and seawater soaking into them, just grateful he thought ahead and bought a waterproof liner for the mattress. Every fibre of his being told him not to take the selkies' skin, but he couldn't leave it unguarded, couldn't put the selkie in further danger when he was bringing another man into his home to see him in such a vulnerable state.
"You'll get it right back," Simon whispered to the selkie, despite knowing he wouldn't hear a word of it, as he gently pried the pelt from his loose fingers and folded it up neatly as he walked back down the stairs and tucked it away in the closet by the door under a few blankets. Next, he called the doctor and was grateful the man didn't ask too many questions beyond what was strictly necessary to know what he needed to bring. Now that he knew the doctor was en route, he went back up to the bed and grabbed a t-shirt from his hamper, lifting the selkie up and covering as much of his body with the faded fabric as he could.
He doubted the selkie had the same sense of modesty as most of the human race, but he still wanted to cover the man to ensure he wasn't wholly bare in front of a stranger he ultimately didn't consent to being in front of. He sat beside the bed after getting him as dressed as he dared and waited. When the doctor finally arrived, he moved out of the way but kept within eyesight so he could help in any way that he could while the doctor worked.
It was impressive how quickly he worked, closing the wounds with an experienced touch and wrapping the leg up with thick, tight bandages. Simon thanked him for both coming so quickly and not asking too many questions. He had a sneaking suspicion the man knew what was tucked into Simon's bed, but he wasn't about to ask on the high chance he didn't. He walked him down to the door, nodding along to the instructions being given to him: change the dressing daily, use an antibacterial wash to clean the wound, keep him dry while the stitches do the heavy lifting. He tucked every last instruction away in his mind, planning to write it all down the moment he could.
He thanked the doctor again as he opened the door and saw him out, agreeing to come into town later that week to settle his bill for the treatment. The moment he closed the door and locked it after the doctor was gone, he let out a heavy relieved sigh to know the selkie would be okay and went right to the closet where he had hidden the pelt and pulled it out, being careful as he brought it back up to his bed and laid it over the man's body, watching as he seemed to curl around the soft fur. He would be resting for a long while; his body needed the time to recover from all the trauma it had suffered in such a short time.
~.~.~.~
Several hours passed by before Simon heard the selkie moving around and went to meet him at the base of the stairs, looking up and watching as he sat down on the top step. His bandages were tinged red, his pelt was wrapped around his shoulders, and he was practically drowning in the large t-shirt Simon had put him in as a way to try and protect his probably nonexistent modesty from the doctor's gaze. Simon let his eyes trail over his body, allowing himself to get a full look for the first time, taking in the lean muscle, the dark hair covering his legs and arms, and peaking out from the neckline of his shirt, where it hung off one shoulder. The selkie wasn't a small man, but he still didn't compare to the bulk of Simon's build. His eyes trailed over each centimeter of bronzed skin before they landed on the bright blue eyes sparkling like the ocean's waves early in the morning, filled with mischief and mirth.
Silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity before Simon cleared his throat. There was a million and one things he could say to the man before him, questions he wanted to ask, but ultimately, when he opened his mouth, the first words to leave his lips were, "I'm Simon." The smile that stretched across the selkie's lips, bright and wide, revealing sharp teeth, had a heat curling in Simon's core as he took in the sight before him. He didn't know if the man before him spoke English; ultimately didn't care. He would spend the rest of his life teaching him if he needed to.
"I'm John." The words flowed easily from the man's lips as he carefully moved himself down the stairs step by step, letting himself settle on the step before planting his one good foot and moving to slide down to the next. Simon watched as he grew closer until he was seated in front of him, that bright, sharp smile a few inches from his face as he reached up letting his arms rest loosely around his shoulders, "Thanks for fixing me up," he said, tilting his head to nod down at the bandages wrapped tightly around his leg, "Starved though, didn't get to bite into your catch before something caught and bit me."
Simon couldn't stop the huff of laughter from slipping from his lips as he let his hands settle on Johnny's hips and carefully lifted him into his arms, being extra careful not to put too much pressure on his injured leg as the selkie wrapped them both around his waist, and carried him over to his dining table. "You're in luck," he said, setting him on the better of the two chairs that still had a good cushion and didn't wobble, "I was just making lunch."
Johnny's smile seemed to become even wider as he nodded, making himself comfortable in his new seat, though he didn't let Simon get far; reaching over and grabbing his arm before he could walk off, "Mind putting this somewhere safe?" he asked, holding his pelt out to Simon and watching him closely.
The air within Simon's lungs seemed to freeze as he looked at the pelt being offered to him so freely; his eyes widened in shock, though just barely. He knew what that pelt meant to a selkie, knew even more what being given the pelt willingly meant. Was he ready for this type of commitment? Probably not. Did he care? Not in the least bit. He smiled, his face softening as he reached out and gently took the pelt and watching how Johnny's smile seemed to grow even brighter as he carried it over to his coat closet and carefully hung it up in full view of Johnny. Right by the door, right where he could grab and go running if he so chose.
"Now time to get some food in you," Simon said, closing the closet door firmly and turning to walk back to his small kitchen and finish preparing the fish Johnny had caught for him the other day. A nice stew would probably be for the best; it would warm Johnny up, be easy to eat, and even easier to share. He didn't know much about Johnny, didn't know if he had a favorite food, if he was actually courting him before, didn't know anything. He was hoping that Johnny would stick around long enough for him to learn, and he'd make the best of however long he chose to stay.
~.~.~.~
Living with Johnny proved to be an improvement to Simon's life; every morning, he woke to the comforting, warm weight of the other man pressed into his side, more often than not with his lips pressing gentle kisses into his skin. Early in Johnny's stay, he would follow Simon down to the front door to see him off when he went out fishing, telling him about the best spots to try, and when his leg was healed, he would join him out on his boat. Simon loved watching as he slipped his pelt on, diving into the water and swimming freely, only resurfacing when he had a large fish between his teeth, presenting it to Simon to add to their cooler.
Most days, Simon spent his time working on the lighthouse, doing his job to get the low cost of living that this place allowed him by handling the upkeep of the building. Johnny stayed with him, often watching him work, asking him what he was doing or filling the air with his voice as he told him stories about his life under the waves or hummed songs his mother had taught him as a wee pup. It was nice having him there to fill the air with his presence, and it warmed Simon's heart to know he was staying of his own free will. Johnny's home might have been the sea, but he made a new one tucked into Simon's side.
The first time they had gone into town together had been more difficult than Simon had thought it would be. He knew he didn't have any clothes for Johnny, and he'd have to walk around in his too-big shirts and too-long pants, but that was the exact reason they needed to head into town. Simon dragged him straight to a clothing shop and helped him pick out some necessities, finding items more comfortable and appropriately sized for his smaller physique. Though even with clothes that fit him, Johnny didn't seem very keen on wearing them unless strictly necessary; instead, he was more inclined to continue to lounge about their shared home in Simon's clothes.
Simon had caught him on more than one occasion with his nose buried in the collars or sleeves of the shirts he stole, breathing deep and filling his lungs with his scent. He was watching him do that right now. Johnny was stretched out in their bed, clad in only Simon's shirt, his nose buried in the collar and eyes closed in peace as he remained curled up beneath the warm quilt as the wood stove in the corner crackled with fire. Simon had just finished a shower, dressed down in soft flannel pants and an old t-shirt, his hair still damp, droplets of water clinging to the blond curls as he watched Johnny lounge in their bed.
"Comfortable?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips at the way Johnny twisted at the waist, bending in a way that would have had Simon's back screaming, and looking over his shoulder at him. He gave him that same wide, sharp smile as a deep rumble of a purr sounded from his chest. Simon huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head as he climbed into the bed beside Johnny, kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth, and watched as Johnny twisted more to face him. In no time, he had his arms full of warm selkie and a cold nose pressed into the hollow of his throat.
"You're freezing," Simon whispered, pulling the quilt up higher and wrapping his arms around Johnny's waist, hugging him closer so he could bundle them both up into the warmth of their bed as the snow fell in thick flakes outside the window above their head.
"Am I?" Johnny hummed, nuzzling closer, "Didn't even notice."
Simon rolled his eyes fondly as he tangled his legs with Johnny and let one of his hands trail down his waist until he felt the healed scars along his thigh and took his time to trace his fingers along the slowly fading marks on his skin, "I'm glad I found you that day," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss into the top of Johnny's head.
Johnny purred louder as he wrapped his arms tightly around Simon's waist, keeping him close as he pressed gentle kisses along his collarbones, letting his lips part so he could gently scrape his teeth against the warm flesh there, "I am too," he whispered, pressing another kiss to the pink welts his teeth left behind, "I hoped you would have found me."
"You can thank those crazy seagulls out there," Simon chuckled, stroking along Johnny's thigh, feeling the rough texture of his scars against his palm, "Never would have thought of that little alcove, but I found you, and you're here now right where you should be safely in my bed within my arms."
Johnny purred again at the words, tucking himself more into Simon's chest, "maybe come spring we can try for a pup," he hummed, his tone casual though Simon could feel his heart beat faster.
"I'd love that," Simon whispered, leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to Johnny's neck and letting those words hang in the air as they both softly petted each other, letting their thoughts for the future turn into dreams as they drifted off in the warmth of each other's embrace.