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Sitting on the back of the boat, Ryland let his feet dangle into the water. It was the early morning right before dawn. The endless blue was quiet, and the water was still. Only the softest lapping of water against the boat could be heard.
Then, beneath the surface, a large shadow moved. Ryland yelped and quickly pulled his feet back into the boat. After a few moments though—watching the dark figure dip in and out of sight—he realized who it was. He tried to frown. To be at all upset, really; however, Ryland ended up grinning despite himself.
A head peaked out of the water, black hair sticking to it and curling slightly. One eye was a deep, almost black brown. The other was a red that matched the scales that reached up the sides of his face.
"You scared me, Simon," Ryland scolded. What else was new though?
Head fully above the surface, the merman chittered at him in greeting. His dark red tail long and powerful behind him.
"Is your fucking danger-fish boyfriend here? Rocky called from inside the cabin.
Simon hissed quietly at the sound of Rocky's voice, and Ryland shouted back, "He's not my boyfriend!"
"Tell him that!"
A webbed hand grabbed the edge of the boat while Simon chittered again for Ryland's attention. They had been working on learning each other's languages, but it was slow going. Ryland was sure that Simon didn't think of them as boyfriends though. He was probably just grateful.
Ryland and Rocky had first come upon Simon during their last trip to the reef. Ryland studied the microbial life of reef ecosystems, and James "Rocky" Ortiz was the unfortunate mechanic/sailor who was foisted on the disgraced researcher. Everyone thought it would be soooooooooo funny to give Ryland an "unqualified" partner that didn't even speak english. Screw them though: Rocky was a genius, and now Ryland knew Spanish!
Rocky might argue that his accent was too crappy to count as "knowing Spanish"; that being said, Ryland was pretty damn fluent after four years working together.
Anyway, on their last trip to the reef, they'd come across some netting—darn poachers—with a poor creature stuck in it. They didn't know what it was. Its big, red tail looked like an eel's; nonetheless, it was enormous! Bigger than any eel Ryland had ever heard of!
Naturally, they went to save this undiscovered and/or endangered species. Ryland had donned his scuba gear to quickly enter the water.
Only to come face-to-face with a man.
No, it was a merman!
HE was a merman!!!
Mer typically lived in communities in the deep sea. What was one doing out here at some lonesome reef?
Ryland didn't have much time to ponder this though because the merman began thrashing with renewed vigor! His mouth—which Ryland noted had a gaping wound on the left side—opened to expose sharp teeth as he screeched. The sound brought out an instinctual, animalistic fear in Ryland. His instincts told him to back the fudge off.
But, he saw how painfully tight the net looked around the merman's tail. Another look at his furious face revealed a certain amount of fear.
Being backed into a corner made anyone lash out.
Despite being very, VERY scared, Ryland swam closer to the merman. There was a loop of netting wrapped around his neck, pushing into his gills: that should go first. You might think that putting yourself close to a scared creature's mouth was a stupid thing to do, and you would be right.
The merman lunged and bit down hard on Ryland's forearm, which had been extended towards the creature's neck. Ryland screamed! It hurt so badly! He started breathing hard. A terrible thing to do in scuba gear.
Calm your breath, Ryland. Got breathe normal.
He managed to breathe somewhat normally. The merman still had his arm in its jaws; Ryland prayed that he wouldn't start ripping. Punching him in the nose like a shark was probably what he should've done next.
Ryland had dived with a purpose though. With his free arm, he grabbed a knife from his side. He tried to move without the merman seeing him, but he bit down harder as the knife approached. Friggin, son of a biscuit, it hurt!
Looking back, he had no idea how he fought through the pain, but Ryland cut through the rope digging into the merman's gills. Said gills flared in response to the release of pressure. The merman's eyes widened in surprise.
Slowly—visibly guilty—the merman's jaw released. Ryland's blood seeped into the water, making little clouds of red. The merman made an apologetic, chittering noise. Since his face was covered in scuba gear, Ryland couldn't give him a reassuring smile.
The smile would've been a lie anyway. That wound was not good in any sense of the word.
Against the better judgement of literally anyone else, Ryland didn't leave the water until he completely cut the merman free. His new, aquatic friend was a lot more docile, having realized that Ryland was helping.
Even in pain, Ryland noted that the merman was incredibly beautiful. A long, thick tail that was a dark red. Eel-like in nature and with scars scattered over its length. Black hair floated around his head; it would probably fall past his shoulders above water. A truly captivating heterochromia of brown and red. The scales reached petered out on his abdomen, only occasionally dotting his more humanlike features.
Except for the scales along his neck, face, and clawed forearm.
Forearm singular because Ryland noted that the left arm was missing. The stump was healed but looked like it had been mangled. Not to mention, the merman's left side—including his face—was far more scarred than the right.
No wonder he had lashed out: this merman was clearly used to being hurt.
When he was freed, the merman circled around Ryland a few times before returning to nuzzle and chirp mournfully at the bite wound.
"It's okay," Ryland said although there was little if any chance that the mer understood him.
Giving a parting wave—which the merman returned awkwardly—Ryland resurfaced.
Rocky was pissed that Ryland got himself injured and had immediately set a course back to shore.
Once Ryland's wound recovered, they set back out. This trip lasted a full day at the reef before encountering a merman.
The same merman.
Ryland had been collecting samples when an unmistakable tail flashed in his peripherals. The merman stared at Ryland as he worked. The microbiologist had been a bit concerned that the merman would take offence to his sample-gathering efforts.
But then, said merman carefully swam up to a piece of coral, scraped off a bit with his claw, and held it out for Ryland.
From that point on, the merman—dubbed "Simon" by Ryland and "fucking danger/murder fish" by Rocky—was a daily fixture during this trip. He would appear at the boat at unpredictable times, follow Ryland whenever he dived, and make attempts to help in the sample gathering. He even brought fish or shells on occasion!
On this particular morning, Simon had brought Ryland a shell. The merman learned quickly that the scientist wasn't big on eating fish—ironic for a man who spent so much time at sea—but he liked pretty shells as much as the next person.
Exiting the cabin with breakfast, Rocky made his way to where Ryland was. The merman hissed at the sight of him, and Rocky hissed back. At least Simon didn't swipe at the mechanic anymore. That was something that Ryland had been quick to put an end to.
The hostility was alive and well between the two of them though.
Rocky put down the tray with bagels and orange juice; then, he gave Simon the middle finger. Simon responded with as good of a middle finger as one could get with webbed hands. Rocky smirked before giving the merman another middle finger, flipping him off with both hands.
Simon, with his one hand, grumbled and hissed his anger. Furious hissing turned to forlorn chirps though as Ryland took a bite of his bagel.
"I gotta eat, bud."
Taking a bite of his own bagel, Rocky said, "I think he's jealous that I feed you or some shit. Remember how he kept bringing you fish?"
"Why would that make him jealous?" Ryland asked.
"Because, he likes you, dumbass."
"Since when are you a mer expert?" Ryland asked defensively, blushing furiously.
"I'm not! But, I have eyes, my dumb friend," Rocky said condescendingly. He was such a jerk sometimes. "I'm more surprised that you know nothing about mer: you're the scientist!"
"I'm a microbiologist. Not a sociologist."
There was a whine-like sound from Simon, who was looking at Ryland with pleading eyes. Did he want some of the food?
"Do you think it would hurt him to have some bread?" Ryland asked.
"I'm pretty sure I saw a mer eating pasta in a movie once."
"Great. That's a big help," Ryland said sarcastically. He looked down at his bagel, then back at Simon's big, pleading eyes.
A little wouldn't hurt, right?
He tore off a little chunk and held it out for Simon. The mer snatched it up, chittering excitedly. It was devoured in short order; furthermore, Simon grabbed Ryland's outstretched hand to yank him forward.
For a second, Ryland thought he would be pulled overboard. He did hit the edge of the boat a bit hard, but Simon didn't drag him into the depths. There was the drag of wet skin and scaled against his cheek and neck instead.
Ryland wasn't an expert on mer, but he was familiar enough to know what scent-marking was. It was only done with family...and mates.
Rocky raised his glass of orange juice in a toast, "Congratulations, my friend. You always attract the weird ones."
Simon was making a kind of purring sound, still nuzzling Ryland. The scientist was in a state of shock, but he would have to get over that fast. He was going to have to figure out how this was going to work: mer mated for life.
There must be something wrong with Ryland because he didn't really mind that he just got saddled with a husband.