Work Text:
Eddie hates the dark. It's residual, something creepy and low-set in his gut, remnants of every time the shadows have tried to overtake him and claim him for themselves.
It's even worse with the dampness. As his boat passes into the Pacific, the waves crest like gentle kisses against the hull, the tap of the water so reminiscent of the trickle of well water against his helmet.
At least this time he isn't alone: even with only the moonlight highlighting his silhouette, Buck is beautiful, all softened edges and bright eyes. Eddie can hear Buck's gentle humming as he steers, hands guided by something Eddie would never understand. He enjoys watching Buck in this environment though, where the saltwater air brushes his skin and almost shimmers against him. It gleams against him as an old friend, and Buck's expression is nothing if not welcoming.
"We almost there?" Eddie asks, eyes trained onto Buck.
Buck's humming swells, eyes fluttering shut. Eddie swears he can see drops of fog clinging to his lashes. "Not much further," he finally says. "Maybe another mile or so."
Eddie settles in for the meantime. He's learned that Buck isn't so talkative on the ride out; instead, the thrum of his vocal chords reaches out, finding the frequency of the tide. Or, at least, that's how it looks to Eddie, combined with his rhythmic swaying and quiet clicks of his tongue. It's beautiful, he thinks. Entrancing. He can understand why a sailor would jump overboard for this.
It at least takes his mind off of the water for now. He takes the opportunity to fiddle with his wetsuit, making sure the zipper is secured. It's not often that he wears it, but the smell of the sea is imbued in the fabric anyways. Something about it reminds him of Buck now.
The boat's engine quiets, leaving the boat to drift slowly in the waves. Buck slides over to Eddie, his own hands drifting meaningfully over Eddie's wetsuit. "Is everything ready? Tank, regulator, BCD–"
"Buck," Eddie soothes, grasping at Buck's fingers with his own. "We've done this so many times. It's all okay."
"We don't want to get complacent," Buck chides. "What if you forget your defog one day?"
Eddie leans forward into Buck's touch, allows himself to press a gentle kiss to the slope of his jaw. "We won't," he says softly. His lips trail against Buck's skin as he speaks, and he can feel the way Buck shivers in response. "You always have your checklist for me. Most of the gear lives with the boat anyways."
Buck huffs, but he falls just that much closer to Eddie, his arms wrapping loosely around his waist. "You love the checklist," he scoffs without heat. "Every time I pull it out, you get this little flush–"
"I do not."
"Sure you don't," Buck appeases. He presses a gentle kiss to Eddie's nose, and Eddie can feel his heart flutter with it. "Whatever you say."
"It's not like you don't get all hot and bothered when I'm in the wetsuit," Eddie retorts. "It's a glorified onesie, and yet I can see you go crazy when I put it on."
"Eddie," Buck says seriously, "you've seen your ass before, right? You gotta know how your ass looks in this thing."
"Like an ass, probably."
Buck groans, one of his hands slipping just low enough to graze the top of said ass, lacking heat but not short on desire. "Like the ass."
Buck backs up then, just enough to put some space between them, and Eddie mourns the loss. He's sure it is written on his face, but Buck is kind enough not to comment on it. Instead, he just says, "Time to gear up."
It's beyond ritual at this point. Eddie had never scuba dived before Buck, but by now, the gear feels nearly as familiar as his turnouts. Buck dresses him slowly, each brush of his hands a careful reassurance that everything is secured. They both know it's dangerous to be out here just the two of them, no one left behind to man the boat while they sink below the water. Eddie trusts Buck though, knows that each pass of his fingers is an oath to keep him safe. He believes that promise with his life.
Once Eddie is fully suited, Buck backs away, his own gaze looking incredibly fond even through Eddie's mask. He pulls off his own shirt, and Eddie's heart softens at the way the moonlight grazes his skin. It's beautiful, momentous even in its subtlety. Each curve of muscle and fat is outlined in a gentle glow, a halo in its own right. He contains a bit of moonlight within himself, white light cast from the scars just beneath his pecs. Eddie never tires of seeing him like this: golden skin stitched by the silver moon.
He watches closely as Buck finishes stripping, clothes discarded neatly next to the wheel. He stretches languidly, face upturned, long limbs almost distorted, unnaturally long.
Eddie remembers himself and clambers to the edge of the boat, flippers making each step clumsy. Buck meets him there easily and grasps his hands, helping to lower him into a squat. Buck presses a kiss to the corner of his mask. Eddie can almost feel a ghost of it against his skin. Muscle memory, he supposes.
"Ready?" Buck asks.
"Always."
He places his respirator in his mouth and falls backwards into the water. The initial splash is cold, even through his wetsuit, and he's disoriented. It's dark, ripples of refracted moonlight the only thing breaking through his vision. For a moment, he's underground, a broken walkie in hand, useless words ringing through an empty chasm.
Then, the water breaks, a figure diving beside him. Buck approaches slowly, hands outstretched towards Eddie's mask, and he turns on his flashlight. The panic fades once Buck's face comes into vision. Instead, he floats, just a body in the ocean, just a man in front of another man.
Well, almost.
Buck smiles sharply. His mouth looks morphed, full of too many teeth that glint sharper than they should. But it's Buck's mouth, and it settles Eddie more than anything else could.
Thus begins the descent. It's slow going, allowing Eddie to acclimate to the brutal pressure of the water safely. He's never liked the time it takes to reach depth, impatience trickling through his skin, but it's soothed by the view of Buck in front of him, sinking beside him.
It's necessary. Buck had explained to him once, before they started this, that there were all sorts of creatures like him, humans who half-belonged to the water. Buck came from the depths, something so warm born out of a place so cold. He needed the pressure every so often to maintain his equilibrium, needed to greet darkness to be able to step into the light.
Eddie didn't want him to go alone, still doesn't. He isn't made for the environment, so he adapted, pulling what little extra funds he had to buy what he could. It was worth it, is worth it every time. He would have spent every penny he had, wrenched out his own bones as currency if it meant Buck never had to spend another second alone.
It means that, as Buck sinks deeper, Eddie does too. Buck, in front of him, changes slowly. With every foot they descend, Buck's skin hardens, darkening into an oil slick at his extremities, splitting into fragments until the texture is indistinguishable from scales. His legs begin to fuse, the skin splitting and melding in a gruesome display that Buck will swear to Eddie does not hurt. Nonetheless, it looks brutal, and the sight twists Eddie's heart every time.
The deeper they get, the more Buck's humanity seems to slip away. He becomes sharper, more slender and jagged in a way Eddie can't fully comprehend. It's still undeniably Buck. Eddie could look at any version of Buck and still see him, regardless of the flesh.
As the pressure increases, Eddie's eyes train to Buck's birthmark. It brightens almost impossibly, appearing almost as an illusion at first, until undeniably, the mark glows on its own. Bioluminescent, Buck tells him. It seems fitting that any part of Buck would light up, like the light inside of him cannot contain itself.
Eddie is entranced by it. He drifts closer and closer, fingers grasping for it, for whatever light he can touch. He feels the need thrumming inside him, pulsing like a second heartbeat, so close–
Buck laughs softly, the bubbles escaping through parted lips, and grabs Eddie's hands with his own. Eddie's head clears, the second heartbeat going back into Buck, the light of Buck's birthmark becoming secondary to the light behind his eyes. Eddie presses his mask to the mark as a kiss. Buck sighs into it, his eyes fluttering shut.
They float for a moment, just two people in the dark. It feels like they're the only two in the world, just two lovers lighting the endless shadows, bioluminescence intertwined with the flashlight. They float slowly as a dance, Buck's tail working to spin them slowly, hands clasped between the two of them. It's a different sort of peace, one Eddie can live in endlessly.
Eventually, they break apart, enough for the fins on Buck's arms to flutter and stretch. Eddie watches his gills flare, taking in the saltwater like a breath of fresh air. Buck grins, a glint of something in his eye, and he takes off, spiraling around Eddie in a trail of bubbles before diving beneath him, lower and lower until the glow of his birthmark fades.
Eddie waits, unbothered. He's alone, but he's tethered, his heart beneath him and his legs above him. The water is comforting now, a tie latching him to Buck, like Buck is still surrounding him now.
He thinks he can almost feel it when Buck comes back up, the water telling him in advance. All he knows is that he feels Buck before he sees him, sharp teeth bared in a smile. Buck's hands are cupped around something, holding it close to his chest as though it is precious.
Eddie extends an expectant hand, and Buck passes it over easily. An abalone shell, slicked rainbow and vaguely reminiscent of Buck's own scales. His heart jolts, his fingers subconsciously tightening over it. He smiles as much as he can with the respirator in his mouth and tucks it into the pouch on his side. Buck's fins flutter in satisfaction, a trill of approval escaping his lips in a flurry of bubbles.
Eddie taps his finger lightly against Buck's collarbone, three taps to let him know he loves him, and Buck returns the gesture eagerly. Then, without further ado, Eddie treads forward, Buck swimming circles around him as he goes, making halo after halo.
Later, once the itch has disappeared from Buck's skin and his body is satisfied, they'll rise together through the water, Buck shedding his scales and losing his fins. They will go home together, man and man, and Eddie will hold him in their bed, whispering reassurances that Buck is still human. Once Buck falls asleep, Eddie will sneak away just long enough to add the abalone to his shelf of shells, tucking it along the others like a new piece of his heart. Then, he will turn off the lights and slide into bed with Buck, and neither of them will be alone.