Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Living alone in the middle of the woods suits Keith just fine. He’s close, but not too close, to the river for fresh water. He’s close, but not too close, to the village to trade for supplies and food. And he’s close, but not too close, to the ocean.

Sitting in the cooling sand watching the rays of light from a sunset as it reflects off the shimmering water is one of the fondest memories he has of his parents. They made sure he knew how to swim. They taught him to hunt. They prepared him for life: to survive.

He enjoys being alone in his one-room cabin. No one to annoy him and no one to disturb his thoughts. Dreading his weekly trips into town isn’t necessarily the right word, but it’s unpleasant all the same.

Instead of taking the straight path from his cabin into town, Keith always takes a detour that allows him to walk past the ocean. It’s nice; crisp clean air fills his lungs and he tries to hold on to that feeling before he gets to the dirty, unpleasant smelling, village. The people are tolerable, he supposes, but it doesn’t change the fact they reek. Good hygiene is few and far between, even frowned upon by the elderly.

“Help! Help! Please! Someone, help!”

Keith blinks and cocks his head to the side ever so slightly. This could be...interesting.

He follows the cries for help at a leisurely pace until he is within speaking distance of a young man tangled in a fisherman’s net at the edge of the ocean.

“Oh, thank goodness! Can you help me? I went to check my net for fish and somehow this happened!”

“No.”

The trapped man sputters and stares wide-eyed, speechless, at Keith for a few moments, processing.

“Wh-What?! What do you mean no! Why not?! It won’t take you any time at all to cut me free with the knife on your belt!”

“True. But it could cost me my life.”

The stranger reels back as if struck, a flicker of what might be described as guilt flashes across his face before shifting back to angry.

“What is that supposed to mean? If you don’t want to help me just go away, jerk!”

Keith hums, as if thinking about it. Then says, “You didn’t start yelling for help until you could see me.”

“Wh...What?” Surprise, shock. “But. How could you-?”

Keith points a finger toward his ear, “Good ears.”

The mysterious man glares at Keith, “So? Maybe I was just saving my breath. I don’t understand how you jumped to that could mean your death.”

Keith smiles sharply, literally. Fangs and all. “I have a good nose too.”

The entangled man freezes, instinctually rearing back as his body moves before his mind can even process what all those clues put together mean. His brain finally connects all the dots and he breathes out one single, faint, word. “Wolf.”

“Mer.”

They stare at each other for a bit, neither making a move, muscles tense.

“Are you going to kill me?” His tone is deceptively flat, void of emotion. But he can’t mask his scent, or his heartbeat.

Keith snarls, sneering at the Mer as he cowers back, muscles locking in fear. “No. I’m not a murderer.” Keith spins on his heel, probably kicking up enough sand to hit the Mer and not caring at all.

Taking a single long, deep breath, salt of the ocean tinted with fear, he puts the thought of the Mer out of his mind. He continues on to the village, choosing to focus instead on his plans for the day. He’d go to the market first, see what they have for fresh fruit, maybe go to that one elderly woman and commision a blanket for the coming winter. Then he’d go see if the butcher had any decent salt for trade, if not, what he gathers from the ocean works just fine to cure meat.

With his plan for the day finally in place, Keith sets out to get it done as quickly as possible, breathing shallowly through his mouth the entire time. The people there know him as a man of few words.

...

Typically, after he was done in the village, Keith would head straight back to his cabin, rushing through the forest, letting the wind clear his mind and nose. But not today.

As he started down the familiar path a certain Mer popped into his mind and he couldn’t get rid of the image. He tried to reason with himself, the Mer was clearly terrified so why would he have stuck around, but his feet were already carrying him back towards the beach. Just to check, he told himself, just to see that the Mer was gone. That he had already left, hadn’t killed anyone, and would never see him again.

He arrived at the border of where grass turned to sand and his heart stopped. There, the Mer, free from the net; there, a young girl, maybe only seven or eight. He ran. He knew he was too far, even shifted he wouldn’t make it, but still he ran.

Keith knew the exact moment the Mer saw him; body stiffening, saying a quick farwell, and he was gone. Disappeared back into the ocean.

“Bye bye!” The little girl repeated, waving at the waves. No sign of the Mer that had been there just moments before.

“What?” Keith asked, coming to a stop near the girl, dazed from this strange turn of events.

The child turned towards Keith and blinked at him slowly. “I was building a castle by myself in the sand.”

“What?” Keith repeated, hearing the obvious lie even without his ears.

“I was playing alone all day. I should go home now; bye bye mister!”

She was gone before he could gather his bearings, like a wisp of smoke on a windy day.

Keith could feel his brow furrow as he tried to understand what could have possibly just taken place. Mers ate humans; murdered them and dragged them down to the depths of the sea. No deviation: this was how all creatures knew Mers to be.

But suddenly, it wasn’t? How? Why?

A ways out in the water a head breached the surface, scent dulled by distance and water but sad all the same. “You know,” he whispered and smiled sadly when Keith turned his gaze to meet his own. “We may be monsters but that doesn’t mean we have to be monstrous.”

Eyes stayed locked for a bit longer, neither wanting to be the first to turn away. Then, between one breath and the next, one wave and the next, the Mer sunk beneath the waves and returned to the sea.

Keith was silent, unmoving, thinking about what was just said. He turns around, mulling everything over and not making heads or tails of any of it. He sees his bags, contents strewn across the sand in his mad dash to the water’s edge, and picks up an apple silently. He turns it over in his hand, studies it like it has the answers to his questions somewhere on its skin, turns his gaze back out to the ocean and throws it as straight and as far as he can.

He’s not sure why he does that, or even if Mers can eat fruit, and maybe it’s an apology that his mouth is unable to form. It wouldn’t even begin to make up for his behavior and hurtful words but it could be enough, would be enough, for now.

Chapter Text

Keith doesn't know why he’s here exactly. Guilt maybe? Curiosity? Dangerous curiosity. All he knows is he couldn’t get yesterday out of his head. So now he’s back at the water. He tells himself it’s dumb to just stand there, waiting. (Waiting for what? The Mer? Did he expect him to be there? To come back? Forgive him?)

He scoffs at that last thought as it crosses his mind, not allowing himself to dwell on it; why would he deserve to be forgiven? Because he gave the other creature an apple? Did he even see it? Know it was for him? Could he even eat land-food?? Ugh! This was all so stupid, especially coming here. He was going home.

He turned, intent on doing exactly as he decided mere seconds before, when a sliver of shimmering blue caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Keith turned his gaze back to the water; it could have just been the sun reflecting off the waves, he reasoned even as his eyes surveyed the surface for movement, it didn’t have to be the Mer, even if the shade of blue was an exact match to the other’s scales.

Then, out a little ways from the shore, the surface of the water was breached by the same Mer from yesterday. He’s not far, per se, but with the distance it is difficult to identify the emotions that cross his face. Confusion? Surprise? Happiness? Might even be all three in some form or another.

He hovers in the water, coming no closer to shore. “Thank you,” he speaks softly, “for the apple.”

His voice is what finally breaks Keith out of his frozen stupor and responds. “Erm. You’re welcome. Wasn’t sure if you saw it, or could even eat it for that matter. Didn’t really think it through too much before I threw it, you know?” he awkwardly scratches the side of his face as his lips form a matching awkward smile.

“Ah,” a flash of something crosses the other creature’s face before Keith could interpret it. He seems to steel himself before asking, “Do you regret it?”

“Giving you the apple?” he asks, to clarify. The Mer nods and Keith answers, “No. I feel bad for jumping to conclusions based on rumors. I should not have judged you solely for what you are. The apple was an apology for my hurtful words and actions. I wasn’t sure if that was understood so is probably why I’m here now. Today. In case you returned. And if all I get from seeing you today is talking to you briefly just this one time here, it’ll be worth it.”

The Mer seems happy with his answer, which soothes something inside Keith.

“Thank you, for the apple,” the Mer repeats again. “I have a return gift for you, if you’ll accept it?” It comes out as a question, as if he was expecting rejection before he even asked.

“I-” Keith hesitates for just a moment before throwing all caution that said to refuse, danger, it’s a trick, away. “Yes. I accept.”

The smile that stretches the Mer’s face is bright and sharp. Teeth shining in the sun as he brings his hands up from underwater, revealing a fish held firmly in his grasp.

Peripherally Keith thinks of how he must have swam with only his tail, needing to hold the fish tightly with both hands so it wouldn’t slip away.

They’re both still a bit hesitant to get much closer, an unspoken truce that neither will do anything will only soothe their instincts so much. So the fish is tossed to him and Keith catches it without having to move a step.

After Keith thanks him for the fish they fall back into an awkward silence.

The Mer fidgets briefly before speaking up, “Aren’t you going to eat it?”

Oh, right, the gift was food, he was expected to consume it. “I will when I get home,” he confirms.

Keith can see clearly as the Mer’s face falls and shoulders droop, actually sinking lower into the water. “I-” he starts, and cuts himself off as the Mer looks up at him with his piercing blue eyes. “Right. Not like I can get sick from it,” he mutters to himself before swallowing it whole.

As Keith is trying not to gag, mind helpfully remembering now that he could have pinched his nose shut like a child, his eyes fall on the Mer still out in the water, smile happy and body language to match.

Keith coughs one final time before commenting. “Bleh. Raw fish just tastes weird.”

“What’s raw?” The confused face the Mer shoots him is absolutely adorable. “Fish is fish.”

Keith blinks and then answers, “There’s raw fish and cooked fish.”

“Cooked?”

Keith nods, “Yeah, with-oh. I see where the problem is.” The Mer continues to look bewildered with their conversation. “Do you know what fire is?”

The Mer shakes his head, an even deeper puzzled expression stretching his features as he repeats the new word.

“It’s, uh, fire.” Keith’s brows furrow as he gets stuck on how to explain such a simple term. “Heat. Hot. Um, cooks stuff?”

The Mer stares at him silently, judging. Those were all new words to him so how was he supposed to use them to figure out what this ‘fire’ is?

The Wolf sputters as his face heats, “Fine! I’ll just show you!” He turns on his heel, ready to stalk back to his cabin to grab what he needs when he stops short, turning back to the water. “Do you want to get two more fish and I’ll cook them for us?”

“Oh!” the other’s face lights up, “Yes, great idea! I’ll meet you back here soon.”

...

Keith returns to the beach to see the other creature already there waiting, sprawled half on the sand, tail in the water, piercing blue eyes watching the tree line he had just emerged from like a hawk.

The Mer tosses the two requested fish up onto the sand and that is where Keith sets up his fire pit. He digs a shallow hole and fills it with the dry twigs and leaves he had gathered. He pulls out his two flint stones and strikes them to spark. Soon a small, but strong, fire is going.

“This is a fire.” Keith tells the Mer who was watching him closely. “It’s hot, and water puts it out.” He adds a few larger sticks to keep the fire going strong.

Next, Keith sets up a flat piece of wood and draws his hunting knife which he uses to quickly and efficiently descale the two fish, detach their heads, slice them open, remove the guts, and debone them both before skewering them onto thin metal sticks that he angles into the sand.

Keith gives a speculative look at the fish heads he would normally bury in the woods or throw back in the sea. “Would you like the heads?”

“Sure!” the other agrees readily, and he munches on them while they wait for the fire to cook the fish.

Once the fish are cooked they have a bit of a dilemma. Keith doesn’t feel confident enough to just toss the fish, skewer and all, to the Mer, so they will have to get closer. He moves slow, deliberately, watching the Mer watch him. He sits down, near the edge of the water, more at the Mer’s height now than when he was standing.

His knife was left back at the fire, not unobservant to the brief recoil the Mer had done upon seeing it, and he held out one of the fish with an encouraging smile. Not close enough to truly be in the other’s space, but still easy enough to close the distance between them, when the other chose.

He is tense as he comes forward, tail staying in the water as he kind of slides his way over to where Keith is sitting. Keeping his eyes alert for any sign of sudden movement from the Wolf, he reaches one hand for the fish which is easily surrendered. He returns to his original spot, leaving about six feet separating them.

Keith takes the first bite and is trying to not stare as he observes the Mer as the other is sniffing and licking at the food before he finally takes a bite.

The utterly disgusted expression has Keith snickering under his breath. When the Mer looks down at the fish in downright betrayal Keith can’t hold it in any longer and laughs from his belly. He can’t remember laughing this hard apart from when he was a child.

“I’m going to go out limb here and say you don’t like cooked fish?” Keith asks after he reigns in his laughter somewhat.

The Mer is still glaring down at the fish in his hands, one bite missing from its side, as if it has personally offended him. “How can you eat this?” he grumbles as he looks up to meet the Wolf’s eyes, “It’s disgusting!”

“Erm, it’s not that bad? Probably just different taste is all; not like there can be a fire down in the ocean.” He offers his hand to take back the fish since the other won’t be eating it now, “Give it here; I’ll finish it.”

“No!” The vehement response startles Keith as much as the glare being turned his way. “You gave it to me; it’s mine!” He pulls it to his chest and guards it, as if Keith would physically wrest it from him.

Keith doesn’t understand. “It’s not a big deal? You tried a new food and didn’t like it. Happens all the time; I won’t cook fish for you again.”

The Mer alternates his glare between the Wolf and the fish, somehow looking like he thought the fish would disappear on its own if he glared at it hard enough.

Keith wondered if the cooked fish being a sort-of gift was what the Mer was held up on. Perhaps a cultural thing that one of the ocean could not refuse a gift?

Maybe he could use that logic to offer a trade.

“Give me the fish and I’ll tell you my name.”

That breaks the Mer out of his glaring contest with a dead fish. “What?”

“You’re worried that it was a gift, right? I’m offering you an out. Or I suppose you can keep the fish and never know my name.”

The Mer pauses at that. Thinks about it; weighs the pros and cons. Lips curl up into a tentative smile as he offers the fish back to the Wolf.

“Hello, my name is Keith.”

“It’s nice to meet you Keith. I’m Lance.”