Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You spend more time at the cabin that spring than you ever have before. You help trim the apple trees, chop wood, tidy the woodshed, lower the dock; you bathe in the lakeshore sauna, you swim, you rip up perchgrass from the eutrophying shoreline while cursing the nearby truck stop and its road salt runoff.

You meet Sun on the dock ladder during the first month of summer. A blank-eyed face gazes up at you from the underwater ladder steps.

You stare.

The mer pops to the surface and his nostrils widen slightly before he waves a webbed hand at you.

"Hello!" he exclaims in a voice like a tropical bird and surges right at you.

"Ah!" You stumble back. Too sudden, too close.

The mer just keeps going.

"New neighbour! I wanted to welcome you! We should—we should have good relations if we will be neighbours! I have a gift for you!"

He slaps a fat silver-black fish onto the deck, holding the wriggling fish with a clawed hand and baring a crescent of teeth at you.

"Uh... That's..."

It's the biggest fish you've personally seen come out of this damn lake. Not the mer—the actual fish. Although the mer is big, too, but that's normal for waterfolk.

"I-I didn't know there were waterfolk here", you stammer. "Isn't it awfully polluted?"

"Yes!" He agrees with too much gusto and heaves himself fully onto the deck.

You take another step back.

The mer is all shades of gold with deep red fins and a rosy, striped fade to his tail. His face is haloed by fins like sunflower petals.

"But other lakes are worse!" He continues, seemingly unphased. "And this one has much fish! Here!" He pushes the fish closer along the deck boards.

The fish flops listlessly under the mer's hand. It's not hump-backed like a crucian, green and slimy like a tench or bill-snouted like a pike.

"What fish is it?" you ask.

The mer tilts his head. "A whitefish?"

"Oh. Oh!" Those are good! "You're giving it to me? Really? Why?"

The corners of the mer's grin go lax. "I'm welcoming you to our lake, good friend!"

He did say that.

He thinks you're an idiot.

"Uh, right, of course. That's really nice of you."

What are you going to do about the fish? Turning down the gift could be rude. A bucket? No, wait, there's the fish corf.

"Give me a second?" You back to the shore and pick up the washing machine drum leashed to a tree by the shore, and bring it over to the mer. "I can store the fish here until I need to eat", you explain as you offer it towards the mer with the lid open. You need to look up how to prepare whitefish.

The mer studies the contraption for a moment, his grin frozen on his face. He picks up the fish and plops it in the darkness of the drum.

You close the lid and drop the drum in the water next to the dock. The mer turns his head to follow your movements.

"Thank you for the fish, um...? What should I call you?" you venture.

The mer's grin widens and he sticks his long-fingered, webbed, clawed hand out at you. "Welcome! I'm Sun! And you, friend?"

"It's nice to meet you", you say politely and introduce yourself. His hand is cool when you grasp it, close to ambient temperature.

"It's nice to meet you, too!" he agrees. He shakes your hand too much.

Nobody else has mentioned being greeted by a mer. Asking him about it would be rude. You glance at the glimmering surface of the lake when he releases your hand. It looks inviting, but the beatifically smiling mer's manner is jarring.

Then again, this is your damn dock and you have a right to swim in this damn lake.

You take a moment to stretch. "Well, I came here for a swim, so I'll take my dunk and get out of your hair", you say with purposeful lightness.

"Oh! Yes! Of course!" Sun presses his hands together, then slips over the dock's edge into the water.

You take the ladder, then spend the next fifteen minutes trying to coax yourself off the last step.

Sun remains nearby, swimming back and forth. The longer you take, the more agitated he becomes. "Why are you taking so looong?" he demands.

"It feels cold!" you respond.

"It's not!"

"It feels like it is! Don't rush me!" You could tell him he doesn't need to wait for you; really, it's strange that he is waiting. He might find it insulting, though, and, well. He had said it'd be best to have a good relationship as neighbours.

You finally manage to let go of the ladder, and squeak as the cool water engulfs you.

"Cold! Cold!" You huff and start swimming away from the dock. The perchgrass strokes your legs as you swim, and you reach down and grab some, tugging it loose.

Sun swims past you to your left. He doesn't camouflage well, even underwater, but there's enough humus in the water that he needn't worry about being easily spotted at distance.

"Why do you rip up the pondweed?" He asks after surfacing.

"Well, it's—It's a sign of euthrophication. I guess removing plants slows it." Though removing it at these amounts doesn't really help that much. "It's also just unpleasant to swim through and stuff. Uh... Is that okay? You don't, like, eat it or something?"

"No!" He swims around you again. "You can pull it up. The pondweed bothers us, too!"

You rotate to try and keep your eyes on him. "There's other waterfolk here?" You ask.

He stops swimming circles around you. "Oh, no! Just me!" He giggles and dives, swimming around you again once he resurfaces.

You huff and swim back towards the dock. You won't push the issue if he doesn't want to share. He's probably at least as wary of you as you are of him. There hasn't been anything on national news about killings between your peoples for as long as you can remember, but hunting waterfolk wasn't outlawed until seventy years ago or so. Members of your parents' generation might still feel tempted to handle their apprehension with buckshot, and only be held back from it by the law.

You slap the perchgrass on the deck and climb up, taking a seat between the handles of the ladder.

"Well, it's probably good you're here. For the lake, I mean. I hear it's overflowing with crucians and tenches."

Sun swims closer until he can hold onto the dock ladder and giggles. "It is!" he agrees. "We will not go hungry!"

You don't call him on it.

"I'll bring you something in return. For the whitefish." You could bring him some of the lemonade you'd made from dandelion blossoms. "Can you eat plants?"

"Yes?"

"I could bring you something."

"Ooh! Yes, please!" He giggles again. It's kind of cute.

"Okay." You're getting chilly. You stand, then lean over the edge of the dock and wave awkwardly. "I'll see you later, then."

"Bye, friend!"

Chapter Text

Sun is nice. You don't have a lot of people around who indulge your water rat ways but, by virtue of his nature, Sun has no trouble doing so. And, while he refers to the other mer often enough that you know he isn't alone, he seems lonely. Freshwater mers are supposed to live in family groups, so it's strange that you only ever see Sun.

You meet Moon on your way to the outhouse on an ever darkening summer night. For a given value of 'meet'.

You leave the door slightly ajar, so you won't need to fumble with the keys coming back. A splash from the dock stops you in your tracks halfway down the stairs. You raise your phone, lighting the path towards the dock, and a rattling hiss echoes in the still night.

"What the fuck…" you mutter to yourself.

Your breath seems too loud as you wait for the silence to be broken again.

After a few more breaths of silence, you turn your phone's flashlight to the path to the outhouse. As you pass the old stump and the movement-activated wall light lits up, you hear another splash. You whirl towards the lake. Someone giggles in the water.

"Sun?" There's no way it's him. The voice is too raspy, too mischievous to be him. Sun doesn't intend to be unsettling.

You huff and stomp to the outhouse past the rowboat and the shed. Whoever this fucker is, he is not making a good first impression.

You do your business and step back out, glaring towards the lake.

"Naughty human..." hisses a voice from the lake, as though on cue.

"Fucking hell", you grumble, then point the flashlight of your phone in the direction of the voice.

There's a hiss and a glimmer in the water; oddly luminescent yellowish patterning on a dark back.

You lower the flashlight and press it against your nightclothes, plunging yourself into darkness. For a while, you watch the lake. A giggle echoes behind the shed to your right.

You shake your head and stalk back towards the sauna house past the shed. You shouldn't antagonise the mer, but he rather seems like he intends to antagonise you.

"It's past your bedtime..." the voice sing-songs from way too close, and you yelp and jump into the bilberry brush next to the path.

"Fuck off!" you screech at the giggling mer's receding tail. He'd come right up to the shore behind the beached rowboat. You groan and stomp to the stairs of the sauna house, ignoring the obnoxious giggles from the water. You're so not getting anywhere near; the mer practically screams 'Nix vibes! Do not engage!'

Chapter Text

In the morning, you stomp to the dock and cup your hands around your mouth. "Suuu-uuun!"

A splash from below the deck freezes you in your tracks. The following giggle curdles the blood in your veins.

You slowly turn around in place.

The mer from last night floats into sight by the gangway. He keeps one clawed hand elevated to shadow his eyes, squinting at you in the early morning light. He sets his other hand onto the gangway.

You remain in place in the middle of the wider part of the dock. At least he can't tilt it under you.

The hiss floats from him so gradually that it takes you a while to register the question. "What makes you so special…?"

"What?" What is he talking about?

"To Sun. Stupid."

You huff, irritation rising within you. "How should I know? This sounds like something you should ask Sun, not harrass me about."

The mer's parti-coloured face sinks halfway below the surface. He blows bubbles at you.

Rude.

"Fine." You squat in the middle of the dock. It's not like you're in a hurry.

The mer hisses, then giggles.

"Weak. Clawless."

You snort deliberately. "If I were you, I'd reconsider being a nuisance."

"What will you do? Drown me in a net? You cannot." He scratches the wood of the gangway with his claws.

You grimace. "No! I wouldn't do that!"

He smirks. "Toothless. Can keep you here as long as I want."

"Well, I'll tell Sun." Childish? Yes. But, evidently, Sun's opinion matters to him.

Predictably, the mer's expression sours.

"You will not."

"O-ho?" You lean forward towards him. "Want to bet?"

He grumbles something. He keeps squinting, even though the sun isn't even shining onto the two of you yet.

He could pull himself onto the dock like Sun had, but he isn't doing so. You eye the gangway. You could probably jump that distance. But he might lash out if startled.

"Look, buddy, I'm pretty sure Sun won't be happy that you're bothering me just because he likes to hang out with me."

The mer groans in disgust. "Not only 'hang out with'. Talk about."

"Well, it seems pretty obvious to me that this isn't going to help matters."

The mer groans again, clutching his face, then grips the planks and hauls himself onto the deck, dragging himself across the planks.

You try to scramble to your feet—crouching was a terrible idea—but stumble, and then he's upon you. Nothing with that body plan should move that fast out of water. You bring your arms and legs up to protect yourself and he grabs your forearm. You kick out and your foot hits his chest; you slam your foot into him and screech: "Fuck off! Let go!"

He yanks you forward by your arm, taking the power from your kicks. "No more gifts. No tattling", he hisses, then releases your arm and drags himself over the edge and into the water, leaving you wide-eyed, panting, and trying to calm your racing heart.

You climb onto your shaking legs and race across the gangway back to the shore, folding in two to breathe, then straighten, pressing your palms into your lower back. Fuck. You really need to talk about this to Sun. This is not okay. And who cares what the piece of shit says, you're not going to be menaced like this.

Chapter Text

You spend the rest of the morning away from the shore. You return in the afternoon and promptly call for Sun. When he doesn't immediately appear, you sit on the step a metre from the dock and the shore and throw a pinecone into the water, calling for him again. You pick up another pinecone, but wait.

After a moment, you hear a splash, then another, and Sun comes into your line of sight on the right side of the dock.

Sun's expression brightens when he spots you. "There you are! What's happening?"

"I met your other friend", you grit out, and toss the second pinecone into the brush.

Sun's eyes widen and he covers his mouth with his hands. "You did?"

"Yes."

He swims closer, eager. "How did it go?"

"He was an asshole—Sun, he scared me."

Sun stops. "Wh-why?!"

You frown. "I don't know! Ask him!"

Sun's smile is frozen on his face. His nictating membranes flash over his eyes as he blinks. "Why would you be scared of him?"

Your jaw drops. "Sun! It's not innocuous when someone as big and—and—toothy, and claw-y as you comes at you with ill intent—It doesn't even need to be ill intent!" You gesture in frustration. "Even a human smaller than me could drown me if they put their mind into it, and we're on a lake." You pout at him, then turn to gaze across the lake. "You got to understand... Humans are very drownable."

He tilts his head, then his head fins flatten against his head.

"You're afraid of us."

"Bitch, I'm reasonably wary!" You exclaim, then draw a calming breath and plead for him to understand. "Y'guys are the deterrent for kids not to get themselves drowned! I'm not scared of you, Sun, but the other guy? I'm not going to let myself be menaced like that; this is my home, too!"

Sun stares at you, very still. "What will you do about it?"

"This! Telling you!" You fist your hands in frustration, this close to whining like a petulant child in the face of his incomprehension.

Your voice achoes back at you across the lake. Sun crawls up to the shoreline and reaches out a clawed hand, lowering it on your shoe.

He raises his face to you. "Forgive me."

You search his blank eyes. You reach down and grip his fingers. "Of course." You remain bent over your knees, holding his hand and his gaze, such as it is. "But, please talk to him. It's not okay—he grabbed me, Sun." You wince self-consciously and pull back, releasing his hand. "Well, I also kicked him. And he let go, but still."

Sun gasps, pressing a palm to his cheek, and gives a startled little snicker. "You kicked him?"

"He should be lucky I didn't ring his bell", you grumble, then grimace, averting your eyes. "Not that that's the kind of neighbour relationship I want to uphold. If he can't be nice he can leave me alone."

Sun looks down and huffs, then raises his face to you and reaches out again. "Don't worry, friend! I'll take care of him!" he promises.

You take his hand and give him a soft smile. "Thanks."

Chapter Text

You wake up to the persistent snaps of something hitting the lake-facing window. You grab your phone and squint at the screen. The completely offensive hour assaults your eyes. Another snap against the window drives you to sit up and yank the curtain aside. A pinecone hurtles towards you and bounces off the glass.

You rub your face and get up, kicking your feet into a pair of off-brand crocs before stepping outside. The blue-silver mer lies on the shore, holding a bunch of pinecones in his hands. He curls in on himself as you appear.

You stop at the top of the stairs and cross your arms.

"What?" you demand.

"... Sun is making me apologise", he grumbles.

You raise a brow and wait. And wait. And wait some more.

"Okay, if that's all, I'm going back to sleep", you say and turn on your heel.

"Wait—" You hear a scramble behind you. "Forgive me, forgive me! Human—"

You stop and look over your shoulder with a raised brow.

"Please", the mer rasps, reaching towards you. "I don't want Sun angry."

You turn to face him and lean against the railing of the staircase.

"No."

The mer's expression falls, then turns to irritation.

"I won't forgive you yet", you continue, cutting off any snitfits he might be building up to. "Maybe later. If you're nice."

The mer slumps against the ground, frowning, then schools his expression and pins you with wide eyes and a hopeful smile. "Please?"

Your expression flattens. "No. Get off my shore."

The mer pouts. When you don't relent, he turns, glancing over his shoulder, and drag-wiggles his way into the water. Once he's back in the lake, he turns to watch you with his oddly mis-matched eyes barely above the water.

You go back to bed.

Chapter Text

You spend much of the day with Sun, swimming, pulling up perchgrass to take to the compost, chatting, just floating. Sun catches you another whitefish. You share your takeout from the nearby gas station.

It's a good day.

The next morning, you find a pile of pinecones on the bottom of the staircase outside the cabin. Some more are deliberately scattered down the path to the shore. You follow the trail and spot a rope tied to the side of the gangway, one end hanging in the water.

You glance around but, spotting no-one, approach and tug on the rope. It's tied to something.

You reel up the rope slowly. Whatever is attached to the other end is too light and moves too easily to be the worst thing you could think of; some dead animal, left by the blue-silver mer as a message.

It's a woven reed corf.

You pull it all the way up and study it. Inside, you spot two fish—crucians, judging by the shape—and what look like roots of aquatic plants. It takes some figuring out, but eventually you manage to extract them and move them into your washing drum corf.

You lower the mer's corf onto the gangway.

Sun's never come on the shore.

This is the other guy trying to be nice.

Probably.

"Hey, Sun, what are these?" you later ask, holding up the roots.

Sun looks up quizzically and reaches out a hand. "Let me see?"

You pass him a root and he turns it around in his hands with a sniff, then offers it back. "Lake reed root! Where'd you get this?"

You take it and blink at him impassively. Maybe he'll come clean, or something?

He meets your gaze with a small, oblivious 'hm?' and a tilt of his head.

"Someone left a corf tied to the dock", you explain. You fish up the corf and hold it up by the rope. "See?"

"Oh!" Sun exclaims and claps his hands together in delight. "He gave you a gift!"

You lower the corf back into the water. "I considered the possibility it might've been you, wanting to trick me into forgiving him", you admit. "Doesn't seem like your style, though."

Sun gives a tense little chuckle, but when you look to him, he looks concerned rather than guilty. He says: "I don't understand how that would help!"

"Hmm", you agree. "Me neither."

Later, you slip a bottle of dandelion lemonade into the corf.

Chapter Text

Following the sunset, you once again get alerted to pinecones hitting the window.

At least this time he didn't wake you.

You step outside and call: "What?"

The blue-silver mer lounges against the gangway with your dandelion lemonade bottle dangling from his long fingers.

"What is this?" he rasps. You strain to make out what he says. "I give you gifts and you leave me trash...?"

"I'll take it back if you don't want it, thank you", you say and approach briskly down the stairs.

The mer clutches the bottle to his chest and hisses. "Mine." He pauses, then adds: "What is it?"

You stop at the bottom of the stairs with a smug little huff and cross your arms. "Yeah, I thought so."

"What. Is it", the mer repeats, more demanding.

You release a breath. "Dandelion lemonade."

"Hm." He studies the cap for a moment, then twists it open and sniffs the contents. He pins you with his gaze and offers out the bottle. "You try first."

You roll your eyes. "Fine." You approach, but remain outside of grabbing range. "Put it down there", you say, pointing to the stone step by the shore.

The mer's expression twitches, but he reaches over to dry land to set the bottle down.

You flap your hand at him. "Shoo."

The mer huffs, but pushes himself into deeper water.

You grab the juice and carefully tip some juice into your mouth to avoid getting your germs on the bottle. "See? Totally safe." You set the bottle back down and step back. "I didn't even consider poisoning you..." You contrive to tap your chin thoughtfully. "Probably should have... Rat poison should be effective."

The mer scoffs as he approaches and swipes back the bottle. He takes a sip and his eyes widen. He stares at the bottle.

"Good..."

"You're welcome!" you chirp.

After a moment of silence and a second sip, the mer grudgingly says: "Thank you."

"—Question. What were the reed roots for?"

The mer frowns, studying you for a moment. "Eating...?" he finally answers, as though your ignorance made him double-guess the obvious.

"Humans don't usually eat those, I don't think", you defend.

He makes a small noise in acknowledgment, then, with a giggle, adds: "You know how to eat the crucians?"

"Eheh-eheh", you laugh sarcastically. "I'll look into the reed roots", you say, then tack on an introduction of yourself, by-the-way.

The mer fiddles with the bottle cap where it's attached to the bottle. "Moon."

Sun and Moon. "Are you and Sun siblings?" you ask.

"No", Moon says curtly, then continues, watching you. "We are together. You cannot have him."

Ah.

You crouch to get better to his eye level where you stand, still well outside of his reach. "I'm not trying to get him", you say emphatically. "We're friends. I don't even understand why you'd—Well, assume that."

Moon scowls, baring his crescent of teeth. "Too friendly. Too—" He gestures vaguely at your everything. "—Luring."

What.

Chapter Text

Moon's words make you double guess yourself something fierce. Every moment you spend with Sun, you analyze your behaviour for hints of flirtation.

It's not completely unthinkable.

Awkward, yes. Awkward to have been called out by Moon; awkward that he had to point it out.

If you've been flirtatious, at all. Moon has his own cow in the ditch and could imagine in you a villain that doesn't exist.

You bike to the nearby train stop and catch the train to Bay. You grocery shop, have a meal at a local hamburger chain and ponder.

If it weren't for what would undoubtedly turn into a love triangle, the idea would be intriguing. There's no shame in admitting that Sun is cute. Even Moon—as galling as it is—is kind of easy on the eyes. Too bad he comes with such a charming personality.

Not that it particularly matters. Maybe you have been subconsciously flirting to Sun, maybe you haven't. You have no designs to woo someone with a jealous partner, but a conversation is in order.

"Sun, do you think I'm flirtatious?"

"Huh?" Sun turns to you with that blank smile he does when he's either caught out or profoundly confused by you. Neither option particularly helps narrow it down.

You paddle in place. "Like... If I seem like I'm hitting on you."

Sun's nictitating membranes flash over his eyes as he blinks. He giggles and covers his mouth with his hand. "No?"

You grimace. "You don't sound so sure."

Sun swims around you. "I'm not sure what answer you want to hear, friend!"

"The truth would be nice."

"Hmm!" Sun makes a show of thinking as he circles you. "Hm. I don't think so! Did you want to be?" For a moment, his manner could be mistaken for hopeful.

He passes very closely by your shoulder, peering at your face. "I don't think you did", he says. "You seem worried, friend."

"Moon said I was 'luring'", you admit.

Sun's blank eyes widen. "Ooohhh, that won't do!" One of his hands lands on the back of your upper arm and his tail brushes against your leg. The sun of his face fills your vision. "You're my friend!"

"Hey—" You push back on his chest. "Back up a bit... I think we're doing a miscommunication."

He does let up, eagerly expecting you to explain.

"It was—"

He's so grabby. He comes so close. He's... possessive of you?

You hold your hand on his chest, staring at him and paddling with your feet.

"Sun... You're not hitting on me, are you?"

His blank stare meets your frown, then he flails his hands. "Oh, I might? Maybe?"

Your eyes widen. "Sun! You can't—Moon is all jealous about it!"

Sun giggles, running his fingers over your upper arms. "Don't worry! I'm not serious."

You grimace. "Wow." You wave off his hands. "That doesn't help at all."

Sun's head fins and posture droop as you pull away and swim over to the dock ladder. You hold onto the ladder and turn to him.

"Look. I don't want to be the reason you hurt Moon. Sure, he and I aren't exactly friends, but I don't want him to think I'm some side fling of yours and he has to just be okay with that!"

Sun bobs in place in the water. "Ooohhh..." he says slowly, tugging on one of his head fins. "He has not said..."

"Don't you guys talk to each other?!" you exclaim in disbelief.

Sun continues to manhandle his head fin and avoids your gaze. "We do, but—" He gives an awkward little giggle. "Maybe not difficult things."

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

Sun turns his gaze to you, then swims closer. "We have so little time! I don't want to use it to make him unhappy!"

His upset squeezes like a band around your heart.

"Sun... You're already making him unhappy, I think." It's cruel, but it's also probably the truth. "Maybe you should—make sure he knows that you don't want to make him unhappy, like—" You rub your face. "Like, console him. S—uh. S-soothe...? The jealousy?"

Sun pauses in the water and his eyes shift. "Oh..."

You hang onto the ladder, halfway out of water. "I don't know him, though. I could be totally off-base, here. But, y'know." You shrug ambivalently. "Couldn't hurt, right?"

Chapter Text

That night, you already expect Moon when you hear a quiet splash from the shoreline.

You lift the corner of the blue gingham curtains and peer to the yard.

By the dock, Moon drags himself to the shore. Under your watchful eyes he crawls his way across the yard, keeping low to the ground with his elbows at straight angles.

He grabs a pinecone and though you see it coming, you still startle when it hits the window glass.

You huff and get to your feet. "Coming!"

You shuffle out to the porch, looking down upon the mer at the bottom of the stairs. "What do you want?"

"Talk", Moon says quietly and wiggles himself into a semi-comfortable position against the lowest two stairs.

You raise your brows slightly. "What about?"

Moon scrapes a claw on the stair he's resting against. "Sun thinks you're charming..."

You shift awkwardly on your feet. "I guess. So—you talked."

"Yes."

"Did you fi—Di-did you find some kind of consensus?"

"Sit?" Moon suggests, patting the stair at his eye level.

You hesitate, then plop down on the top stair like a chicken on a roost.

Moon's eyes track your every move. "Your legs have fingers", he says.

You give a bewildered snort and fold your legs criss-cross applesauce to stop him from focusing on your super weird human traits. "Come on, then", you say with a frown. "Don't keep me in suspense."

Moon snickers at your impatience. "Sun may play with you. This makes him happy." For a second his eyes soften, but it's there and gone again.

"You just—decided it was a-okay now?" you ask, incredulous.

"Giving a chance. But." His hand crawls upwards along the stair steps. He's still smiling. "If Sun plays with you, I do, too."

"I love how neither one of you is asking my opinion on this", you say dryly, looking at his creepy-crawly hand like a particularly nasty bug.

"Not a 'no'", Moon's lilting voice reminds you.

Maybe so, but: "Silence is not a sign of agreement."

Moon giggles but pulls back his hand. "What is your opinion...?" he indulges you.

You lean your elbow on your knee and your chin against the base of your palm. "I reserve the right to cut the game at my discretion", you say, trying for casual. At least you can use this apparent change of heart to elevate his opinion of you. He'd liked the dandelion lemonade, so... You go to stand up. "Would you like some apples? I can share."

Moon hesitates, then nicks his head surprisingly eagerly. "Yesss..."

You shuffle back indoors and grab the bunch of apples from their bowl on the table, as well as a knife. With apples and a tool in tow, you return and plop back down at the top of the stairs.

You slice one of the apples in half, then slice off a smaller piece to taste. "Meh." You set the apple aside and try the next one while in your peripheral Moon tilts his head almost sideways. The second apple is perfect, delicious; fresh, crisp and juicy. You stab the blade into the apple half and offer the skewered piece to Moon across the steps.

No part of you should be surprised when Moon leans up and pulls the piece off the blade with his teeth. His eyes remain fixed on you as he chews on the apple piece, core and all.

"You're not supposed t—uh..." You shake your head. Never mind. You just cut the second half into smaller wedges and remove the core before offering the slices to Moon and contriving not to stare.

Moon giggles. His hand reaches for you, claws playing the air by your legs like piano keys. "Come here?"

You should not be tempted. You should not.

"Is this how you snagged Sun? Waving your claws at him?" you ask in lieu of complying. You wave your knife at him.

"You wave back", Moon says. His scarlet attention on you is like a physical thing.

"Har, har", you say and stop. You're so desperate it's disgusting. Moon is unrepentant.

You lower the knife and take a chomp off your mediocre apple. He wanted to talk. You can talk. "So—I found out that apparently humans can eat the roots of common reed. I just couldn't find any legit-seeming guides on how to prepare them, though—"

Chapter Text

If you're going to indulge Sun’s and Moon’s curiosity—and yours—you need to know what you're getting into.

So, you type in "human waterfolk romance" into your browser and all but roll your eyes out of their sockets when the top results point to Archive Of Our Own and Wattpad. Of course. "Human waterfolk relationship" gives something more sensible, such as a website detailing the topic in Irish folklore.

Sensible, but not exactly helpful.

You skim through the Wikipedia article on waterfolk. The article mentions their armor-like scales, and their ability to do headstands and swim belly-up, both made easy by their abundance of lobed fins. It explains that the lobed fins are an ancestral trait within Sarcopterygii, the clade that includes the living amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals, as well as coelacanths and lungfishes. According to the article, waterfolk have a specialized resporatory system that allows them to breathe air efficiently. They're believed to be obligate air-breathers after metamorphosis, except during hibernation, when their metabolic rate is low enough that their gills, despite their comparatively low surface area, can support them alone. While waterfolk can live in brackish water, the vast majority of extant waterfolk inhabit freshwater environments. There's little known about their breeding habits. The section on their cultural signifance is the beefiest part of the article.

You keep looking.

Eventually you stumble upon r/SleepingWithFishes, a "subreddit focused on waterfolk and their relationships with humans".

Well, in the name of research...

You click through and start scrolling. Someone has boosted a recent news article by the local broadcasting company on a juvenile mer drowning in some neglectful human's old, illegal type of fishing net. Another post is an analysis on the possible real-world inspirations of The Little Mermaid and an earlier fairy tale from the same era, Undine. Another user has shared a selfie—the faces blurred—where one of the individuals in the image is clearly a mer.

"Why don't merpeople have to pay taxes?" wonders someone. "If a mer eats fish fingers, is that cannibalism?" Har har. "Where can I see a mer?" Topic locked by mods as against the rules. "Can you get pregnant from swimming in the same lake as waterfolk?" Comical. "Benefits of waterfolk to local ecosystems". You open that in another tab; it could be interesting. "Are waterfolk nixies?" "Should waterfolk be registered?" "Does compulsory education not apply to merfolk?" And so on.

You hesitate, then type "dating" into the search bar.

"Is it bestiality to date merpeople?" asks one user. How promising. Among this crowd, the answer is a resounding fuck no. "Adult waterfolk pass the Harkness test!" one commenter points out. Very scientific. "My son claims to be in a relationship with a mermaid, should I be worried?" asks a concerned mother. "Problems when dating waterfolk?" Relevant to your interests. "I'm married to a mer. AMA." How?!?

You read your fill and, armed with newfound knowledge(?), march to the dock and go for a swim. Before long, Sun's face pops up right in front of you.

"Sunny!" you exclaim and the next thing you know he's hugging you.

"Friend! You were right!" He squeezes you and rubs his cheek against yours. "You give such good advice!"

You squeeze him back. "Oh, it really went well?" You ask and pull back a little so you can look at him.

He releases you right away and gives you more space—more than you need—grabbing at his cheeks instead. "Yes! At least, I think so?"

"I'm so happy for you!" you exclaim and all but squee, pushing aside any feelings you may or may not be having about being just a plaything for him and Moon. It's fine! You can just have fun with your friend; Sun doesn't need to have serious intentions about you.

Already having an idea about their track record when it comes to communicating, though, you better keep them posted about each other's movements around yourself. "Oh, I talked with Moon last night. He was behaving okay." You wrinkle your nose. "Flirty, though."

"Oh." Sun wrings his hands. "He didn't make you uncomfortable, right?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No, no. I'm not sure how I feel about it but—he was okay. Didn't creep me out, or anything." At least not enough to warrant mention. It doesn't seem like a good moment to sic Sun on Moon for anything minor.

"Good. That's good", Sun says. He carefully reaches for your hand and when you offer it to him, he brings it to his cheek and nuzzles into it.

Cute.

You two spend the day playing in the water and ripping up more pondweed. The section of the shore adjacent to the lot is actually becoming pondweed-free, with Sun diving up the plants with their roots and all. Together, you accumulate a respectable pile on the dock. Before you exit the water to carry the pondweed to the compost, Sun leans in and flicks his tongue against your cheek before diving and swimming off.

"Um?" you ask the empty air and instinctively wipe your fingers across your cheek to check for residue. There's none that can be distinguished from the water already on your skin, of course. Okay, whatever. Time to haul this pile of pondweed to the compost.

As you carry the last armful to the compost frame next to the outhouse, Sun calls your name. You spot him waving at you out on the lake.

"I caught you a whitefish!" He lifts a very large fish out of the water with both hands. You stare.

"Holy shit." You throw the armful of pondweed into the compost pile and gesture for Sun to swim to the dock as you head down the path.

"Friend?" Sun calls, more hesitantly.

"Yeah!" You call back. "That's amazing! Come over to the dock?"

"Oh!" he exclaims and dives.

He's already waiting for you when you walk onto the dock. He all but vibrates in excitement as you offer him the fish corf to store the fish.

You have to ask. "Where do you get these huge whitefish? We've thought they'd all died off or something—Thank you, by the way."

Sun smiles brightly up at you from the water. "There aren't many but I want to feed you well!"

"Yeah, uh—thank you. That's—thoughtful. I appreciate it", you flounder. It’s true, but his candidness remains jarring. You could ask about his motivations but—even still—you'd cringe out of your skin if you were mistaken.

Chapter Text

At the main house, you prepare filled salty crepes with the whitefish according to a recipe you found online. Then, you return to the shore to share crepes with Sun.

Sun pulls himself onto the dock, following your example on how to eat the crepes: holding the paper plate aloft to limit mess, gripping the crepe with his hand to bring it to his mouth. “Mmmm!” he hums enthusiastically.

His pale gold and rose scales glint in the light like shards of glass. He’s strange and beautiful and distracting. When you finish another crepe and look around for more, you find them all gone.

“Sun!” you exclaim, laughing. “How many did you eat?!”

Sun blinks at you, his nictating membranes flashing across his eyes. “A hand?” He licks his lips, then the middle of his face to get a small dollop of crème fraîche-cottage cheese mixture off his snout.

“Uhhh... A hand?” you ask.

“Yes, a—four!” He giggles and holds up his hand, thumb tucked, fingers up.

You snort. “Okay, guess I should have brought more.”

“No-no-no!” He waves his hands, blank eyes wide, then grins awkwardly. “You don’t need to feed me!”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Hey, you got me the fish”, you say, leaning in on your knees to peck a small kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, by the way.”

Sun’s eyes widen, and his head fins give a shiver, the rest of his body frozen in place. A breath later, he covers his cheek with his hand, a bashful grin on his face, and then he reaches for you.

You stay very still, letting him ghost his claws over your cheek. You lick your lips, watching his expression, expectant.

He leans closer, supporting himself against the deck with one arm. His breath fans your lips.

You lift your hand and place it against his mouth. He stills.

“Hey, Sun... How old are you?” You have to ask. During your research, you read that waterfolk can live up to a hundred years, like humans. Sun's big enough that he probably is fully grown; his body is longer than you’re tall, and as for you, the only direction you'll grow anymore is widthwise.

Sun blinks at you. “Oh! I’m one of second fingers and one summers! What about you?” he says, pulling back.

You frown at him in incomprehension. “Uhh...”

Sun stares at you expectantly, then elaborates: “That’s six dickers and one? Six tens?” He holds up both hands, all ten digits extended.

“Sixty?!” you exclaim.

“How old are you?” Sun repeats, watching you with interest.

You tell him, in tens and ones like he told you his age, and watch his expression go lax.

He tilts his head quizzically. “You are an adult?”

“Uh, yeah, we’re considered adults at eighteen. Ten and eight.”

Sun gestures to his forearm, elbow to fingertips. “We are this size at ten and eight”, he says.

You stare, then meet his eyes, then look back down to his arm. The distance he indicated is only a little over half a metre. “You guys really grow slowly.”

Sun snickers. “Well, we don’t grow in the winter, silly!”

Your eyes widen. “Oh! So, a ten and eight years old human is like a—two tens and—a-a three tens and six mer! Because we grow all year!”

Sun tilts his head. “That’s less weird.”

“Okay.” You lift your hands in front of you, as though in surrender, and grin. “Sorry for interrupting. You were in the middle of something.”

Sun tilts his head and leans into your space, poking the tip of your nose with a claw. “Yes. Now, you just sit right there and don’t move.” He giggles.

You sit still, waiting with bated breath as he leans closer. He cups your face, the tips of his claws resting against the shell of your ear. His tongue darts out, flicking over your lips, and then he pulls back slightly, waiting for your reaction, his head fins tilting back.

You snicker a little and make chase, cupping his face in turn and placing kisses on his lips. He’s lukewarm, under your hands and under your lips, and the teeth poking out between his lips are—different. He licks your lips again, and you kiss him again. You stay there, in each other’s spaces, and you run your fingertips along his jaw, watching him as he watches you.

Chapter Text

Sun leaves you like a coween on an outcrop a bit before six in the evening, but not before sweetly nuzzling you. You watch as his golden back disappears into the golden deep, smiling like a complete sap with your hand against your nuzzled cheek. Once he's gone, you gather the paper plates and leave to prepare for the night, rather looking forward to when Moon’ll show up after sundown.

That night, you stretch out a leg, testing the waters, the boundaries of Moon’s respect for your space. He knows he could wrap his fingers around your ankle, yet doesn’t, and doesn’t, and doesn’t.

You no longer perch like a roosting chicken. Night by night, you ooze down the steps. Sometimes Moon reaches for you, stroking the air above your skin. Perhaps he’s desensitising you; perhaps it’s more significant than you can sense without a lateral line organ.

“Smell like Sun”, Moon points out, hand hovering over your leg.

“Uhh... What?”

Moon props his chin against his palm. “Your machine friends didn’t say?”, he snickers. He turns his palm, pressing it against his throat, and taps the sides above his gill flap. “Scent glands, here. He marks you...”

Heat prickles its way to your cheeks. You avert your eyes. “We’re not even doing anything.”

Moon laughs—at you, most likely—but doesn’t tease you further. Instead, he turns away from you, fiddling with something on his arm. He turns back to you, a string of cylindrical beads and shards and loops hanging from his digits.

“This is for you”, he says, offering it closer.

You reach out, palm-up, and let him lower the string into your palm. Moon waits in silence as you study the bracelet, turning it around in your hands. He must’ve had it wrapped around his bicep, and you hadn’t paid it any mind. The beads are organic, orange-brown, with small hollows on the sides. The shards are from mussel shells, dark on one side, pearlescent on the other. Their sharp edges have been rounded. The string and its loops might be root or sinew. “You made this?” you ask, looking up.

“Yes.” He rests his hand against a stair. “How I ‘snagged’ Sun. Shiny gifts.” He hesitates, then ventures: “If you want something else, say.”

You give a wry huff. “Um, I feel like I should give you something in return.”

Moon taps his claws against the step under his hand and tilts his head. “Gift. Not trade...”

“Well. Still”, you insist, crossing your legs loosely on the next step as you struggle to tie the bracelet around your wrist.

Moon watches you, then lies against the stairs, arms pillowing his face.

You pause and look down. Moon's head fin curtains his right eye, the fin's bioluminescence reflecting off the pale crescent moon of his face. He’d be cute, like this, if you were more naïve.

“Swim with me”, he suggests, his voice tapering off into a dry rasp.

You successfully tie off the bracelet. “Oh, ha—“ You lean down over him to really make him look up at you. “You know, it’s so suspicious when you keep pushing the issue.”

“Hm”, Moon says. He shifts on the stairs, baring the silver of his belly, and closes his eyes. Then, he opens them and reaches up with a clawed hand—and still doesn’t touch. “Here, we are heavy. Clumsy...” He traces the contours of your face in the air. “Muffled... Not comfortable. Can’t”—he says a word you don’t recognize—"properly."

“Yefraide...?” you repeat the word softly, letting him.

“Mh. Sense... Vibration. Heartbeat. Lightning. Air is... Thicker, for it.” His digits curl and withdraw.

“I’ll take that under advisement”, you say quietly. You lean down, closer to him.

Moon's hand stills. His eyes focus on yours. His smile tightens at the corners and his eyes narrow. "Want me to touch", he says, almost growling. "Luring, luring..."

You raise your brows slightly, impassively, but can't quite keep a straight face.

Moon traces the back of his claw just above the high point of your cheek, almost close enough to be felt, but no.

You draw a breath. "Yeah", you admit on the exhale.

Moon's eyes narrow further. His chuckle creeps up on you. He lowers his hand, from your cheek to your jaw, and his claw makes contact with the soft underside of your chin, slides down the column of your throat.

You swallow reflexively.

Moon stills and meets your eyes again. "Weird... Empty flesh."

You chuckle. "Yeah, why I haven't been all keen to take a swim with your grabby ass. Maybe it'll be fine, though."

Moon echoes your chuckle and turns his hand to cup your cheek. "No promises, hmm?"

Chapter Text

A little before noon, you make your way to the dock to wait for Sun. You need not wait long before his sunflower head peers over the edge of the dock.

“Hey, Sun! Do you want to try popcorn?” you ask and lift the bowl of just-popped microwave popcorn in your hands.

Sun’s nares visibly flare. “Good morning, Sunshine! What’s that?”

You plop down on the deck and pick up a popcorn to show him. “It’s a popped grain. Like, um... If you heat a seed, the pressure that develops inside makes it pop and the contents turn into this, kind of, foamy texture? Instead of being hard or firm.” You frown at the popcorn. “... I guess it doesn’t work as easily on most seeds, but it works on these. They look like...” As you dig around in the bottom of the bowl for an example, Sun heaves himself up on the deck and leans in, drawn to the bowl by the buttery scent. “Oh, here!” you call triumphantly and brandish an unpopped kernel.

Sun sways a little, focusing on the item between your fingers. You pick up a popped corn again and place them next to each other in your palm to show him the difference.

“They’re for eating?”

“Yeah—Well, the popped ones are.” You drop the unpopped kernel back into the bowl. “Hey, Sun?” You smirk.

“Ooo, what is it?” Sun looks at you curiously.

“Say ‘aah’…”

“Aaah?”

You toss the popcorn at Sun’s mouth. The damn thing hits him in the middle of the face instead and falls down.

Sun recoils and wrinkles his snout. “Oh! Where did it go?” He tilts his head at the deck, and you point at the popcorn that luckily doesn’t quite fit through the gaps between the planks. Sun runs his fingers over the planks until he finds the popcorn and giggles awkwardly with it in hand. “It’s so much more difficult to tell where things are in air!” he exclaims, then pops the popcorn into his mouth. “Oh! Salty!”

You chuckle and push the popcorn bowl closer to him. “Here.”

Sun tilts his head, then reaches out and picks up a popcorn. He giggles and covers his mouth with his free hand. “Say ‘aah’?”

You laugh and open your mouth. “Aah!”

He throws the popcorn at you, and you lunge to catch it from the air. “Yum, yum!”

You throw popcorn at each other with more or less poor aim, accompanied by laughs and giggles. Eventually, Sun waves his hand, after yet another popcorn almost hits him in the eye. “Okay, we can stop throwing things now, thank you.”

You guffaw. “I’m so sorry, my aim is horrible!”

Sun gives a tense giggle. “Yes, sure.”

“Um, no, really? I sure wasn’t throwing the popcorn everywhere but your mouth on purpose.” You give a bewildered chuckle.

Sun stares at you, his head fins flattening, then springing upright to halo his face. “Oh. Oh! Nonononono!” He reaches out for you, almost toppling the bowl of popcorn before you steady it. “I-it’s just that, Moon would be much better at—Catching the popcorn, yes!” The titter that follows is as contrived as the last one.

You can’t help but frown. “Oh. Well, I wanted to goof off with you.”

Sun stills, then giggles again, more genuinely this time. “Cute.” He leans closer until he can rest his chin on your shoulder.

You watch him from the corner of your eye. He’s definitely being weird about something. Still, whatever it is will come to light sooner or later, anyway. You grasp for a change of topic. Sun sighs and shifts against your shoulder, and with a soft chortle, you spy one. “Oh, Moon did mention you’re rubbing your pheromones all over me.”

Sun reels back. “You didn’t know?!”

“No. Humans can’t smell pheromones.” You snort a little. “It’s fine, though; I don’t mind.”

Sun studies you for a moment, tilting his head. Then he leans closer and boops his snout against your cheek. “Good! You should smell like us.”

Your cheeks tingle. “Yeah?” Sun nods enthusiastically and flicks his tongue against your warming cheek. You clear your throat and push the popcorn bowl aside. “Hey, cutie”, you say and scoot closer to Sun.

Sun tilts his head a little, waiting with interest as you kneel before him and cup his cheeks. Then he snickers. “You like it”, he calls you out.

You purse your lips. “Hush, you.” You shift your left hand to his forehead, lightly running your fingers over his head fins. Sun's hand finds the back of your arm, a light but insistent pressure, pulling you closer. You don’t resist. You drop the hand from his fins to support yourself against the deck, lean against the bony curve of Sun’s chest and kiss him.

Sun tilts his head a little, and as soon as you pull back, he licks your lips. You loop your right arm around the back of his neck and kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him. His arms snake around your body until you’re all but straddling his tail. You open your mouth against his. Sun groans when his tongue meets yours. His tongue is almost cold against yours, even though against your lips it feels warmer than the rest of his body. You slide your hand down his chest and around his waist, pulling back enough to press kisses along his jaw and nuzzle into his neck. You open your mouth and press your tongue against his throat. Sun squeaks and tilts his head back when you suck.

Someone calls a curse at what sounds like his runaway dog. It’s distant, but Sun drops out from under your mouth and rolls into the water with a splash.

You block the spray with your arm and sit back with a huff, peering around to check there really isn’t anyone nearby. There’s some movement on the opposite shore, but nothing on the closer docks or the outcrop in the direction of Blacklake. You lean over the edge of the dock and Sun’s face pops to the surface. He flattens his top head fins against his head with a grimace, shame-faced.

You snort at him. “It was just the neighbour across the lake!”

Sun flicks some droplets at you. “Shush.” He tilts his head up at you, then grips the edge of the dock, giggling as he hoists himself back up. He leans close, dripping water all over the deck. “Come here, Sunshine”, he invites, before sinking back into the lake.

Considering what you were in the middle of, you don’t need to be asked twice. You scramble down the ladder and get rewarded with Sun pressing against you.

“Hi, there”, you say and kiss him, paddling in place within the circle of his arms. His hands land on your waist, and he nuzzles your cheek, licks your jaw. You turn your head to press a kiss on his cheek. He nuzzles your neck. You chuckle a little as he trails down your neck.

He bites down on your shoulder. Your amusement catches in your throat.

“Ow!” you shriek and flail, unthinkingly smacking him over the head.

Sun releases and pulls back rapidly. His eyes are wide. He licks his teeth. “Oh no”, he squeaks.

“Oh, no, no, no—“ He pushes his head fins against his head with his hands. “I’m sorry!” He lunges at you, babbling apologies. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Forgive me! I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry!” He keeps talking. The water that laps your shoulder stings. Sun’s not touching you. You swim backwards to the ladder and step on the bottom step to examine your shoulder. Sun’s frantic voice washes over you. Your hand comes away from your shoulder bloody. You turn to rinse it in the water. “I’m sorry!” Sun continues to insist.

“I know. It’s fine, calm down.”

“It-it needs to be cleaned, let me fix it”, Sun’s saying, and he’s so frantic, so upset, that you descend back into the water and let him study the wound. He bows his head over it, muttering apologies, then sticks his tongue out and licks it, and you’re back to screaming and flailing.

“Hey!” Sun exclaims, grabs your wrist and pushes you against the ladder. “Stop that! I’m helping you, now stop moving.” He licks your shoulder again.

You still, take a deep breath and grab his gill flap with the hand of your free arm. “Let me go”, you hiss, squeezing. His gills would tear your fingers if you stuck them in, but he needs to back off, now.

Sun’s eyes widen. He releases you and swims back as soon as you let go of him. You climb onto the dock, shaky, wet, and spitting curses, and stomp straight to the shore. You have a wound to disinfect, and Sun can deal with his own issues.

Chapter Text

Moon’s late. He drags his way to the shore, holding something that looks like bent reeds in one hand. He tosses a pine cone at the window with a snap, and you sigh and step out on the porch.

“What’s that?”

Moon studies you for a moment before responding. “Willow bark. For pain and inflammation...” He turns his head to the lake. “Sun begs forgiveness.”

You sigh heavily and sit at the top step of the stairs. “I have painkillers and anti-inflammatory meds. Thanks, still. I appreciate it.” Addressing the topic of Sun is more challenging. The two of you sit in silence, Moon at the bottom of the stairs, picking at the willow bark, you at the top. “Did he tell you what he did?” you eventually huff.

“Bit you”, Moon says, still turned away. “Panicked.” He tugs at the bark in his hands, then rips a bark string into two with a sharp movement. “Didn’t listen.”

You puff out a breath. After several false starts, which Moon lets you work through in peace, though his mangling of the willow bark seems agitated, you finally blurt: “He—he got all weirdly bossy about licking my blood!”

“Mh”, Moon acknowledges noncommittally. His tail flicks like that of an annoyed cat. “Not eating; helping...”

“You’re going to have to explain that”, you say, already tired of this.

Moon remains silent for a moment longer, then tilts his head to the side. “We clean wounds… Helps with pain, makes them heal better.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, thinking. Moon says this as though it’s obvious. To him, it is. You could have let Sun get it out of his system. But... “He was being an asshole about it.”

“Yes”, Moon agrees. He picks up the willow bark and starts winding it into a ball.

You groan in frustration and scoot down the stairs until you’re next to Moon. “Is he okay, though?”

Moon turns to look at you, his scarlet eyes flicking from your eyes to your clothed shoulder and back up again before he looks away. “No. He will get over it.”

You tuck your palms between your knees, shoulders tense as you hesitate to seek comfort. “Moon. Ca—“ You clear your throat. “Can I... like, lean against you or something?”

“... If it helps...?” he says uncertainly, the sibilant stretching into a pitchy hiss.

You shrug and tip your head against his shoulder. Moon turns to look but says nothing.

You shift slightly against his shoulder, trying to find a spot where you don’t need to support yourself to avoid his bones digging into your skin, to no avail. “You’re really bony”, you accuse.

Moon snickers. “Not helping?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but don’t pull back. He lets you remain, shifting his chin a little.

You study the curve of his chest in your line of sight, the smattering of dark splotches in the middle of his chest where the silvery calico pattern pushes into the dark half of his body. Under the glassy metal sheen of his scales, a raised bone runs down the middle of his chest, giving him a pigeon-chested appearance. The lower edge of his pectoral muscles forms a V to where the sternum would end if his were a human body.

Moon shifts his chin against the top of your head again, subtly nudging his jaw against you. You huff out a bemused sigh and bend your neck until you can give him a pointed look. He’s not being slick. He grins down at you and doesn’t even try to hide what he’s doing as he nuzzles against your forehead with a raspy giggle.

You wrinkle your nose at him, then sigh, shake your head slightly and rest back against his shoulder. Whatever. It’s not like you can even smell it.

Chapter Text

You should get a tetanus booster.

That’s what you should be doing. And you’re not.

You should call the medical helpline and ask for advice. You’re not doing that, either.

If they told you to go in for a shot, and you refused, that’d surely end up on some record. If you went in for the shot, and they asked to see the bite, it would be suspicious if you refused to show it. If you showed it, there would be zero chance of passing it off as a dog or human bite.

There have been cases of ‘disruptive’ waterfolk trapped and moved to strict nature reserves where, due to the lack of further human contact, they can no longer be disruptive.

You’re not risking it—And you are, when the ‘it’ is your health.

You’ve done the best you can, though. You disinfected the wound, washed it and soaped it before disinfecting it a second time for good measure, and are popping the strongest available over-the-counter ibuprofen regimen to stave off inflammation in lieu of prescription antibiotics. According to guides online, a bite mark should be watched for thirty-six hours for signs of inflammation, and the deadline for the tetanus shot is seventy-two hours. You still have time, if you change your mind.

Sun won’t show up until after ten in the morning, so in the meantime, you browse r/SleepingWithFishes. There isn’t much information on non-hostile bites, but you find one thread where a user bemoans getting bit by their friend. Mating bites. Mating bites. That’s what a couple of users are saying. And then there’s this asshole:

“It’s not like in the fanfiction you people read. It’s just to hold the mate still during copulation, same as some sharks and snakes. So long as they stick to their own kind, they won’t even do much more damage than minor contusions.”

The waterfolk Wikipedia article doesn’t mention this. All it has on waterfolk mating relates to the physical aspects: they give birth to live young, have cloacas and, due to erectile tissue found in the male cloaca, it is theorised to evert to function as an external copulatory organ. This reads like data acquired from dissection. Any information on courtship behaviours is conspicuously absent. Maybe whatever the Reddit user spouts is original research; maybe it’s bullshit. Best to just ask Sun.

You get to the dock a bit before ten and spread a blanket on one side of the deck so you won’t need to worry so much about dropping your phone into the lake. You lie on your back and browse, waiting for Sun. Your shoulder itches, so you absent-mindedly rub the cloth of your shirt against the skin around the bite.

You pull up your browser and type “wound licking” into the address field.

Huh. It has a Wikipedia article. “Instinctive response”, it says. Eh, humans can fight their instincts just fine. “Saliva contains tissue factor, which promotes the blood clotting mechanism.” “The enzyme lysozyme… aids in defense against infection”, it elaborates, as if this particular enzyme’s existence should be common knowledge. You lean against your forearm to prop yourself up so you don’t need to read the article against sunlight, your brows drawing together. You ignore the twinge when shifting your position pulls at the scabs on your shoulder. “Saliva contains… many compounds that are antibacterial or promote healing.” “Saliva contains growth factors…” followed by a long list of science babble. “… contains an analgesic”. Conversely, there’s a list of instances of bacterial infections from pets licking human wounds.

You lower the phone when you hear a little splish and find Sun peering at you over the edge of the dock, his long fingers gripping the edge.

“Sunny!” You flip on your front, set the phone facedown on the blanket, and lean your chin against your palms. “Morning.”

“Morning!” Sun answers, as chipper as usual. He reaches for you but loses courage halfway. The mer’s hand lowers to the deck. “You will not come into water?”

You set a hand over his and turn his palm around. “Nah, I think it’s better for the wound not to get in contact with questionably clean water.”

“Ah…” Sun tips his chin down, his head fins folding against his head, all chastened. “Can I come up?”

“Huh? Of course.” You stop playing with the maroon webbing between his fingers and release his hand, sitting up.

Sun pulls himself onto the deck, and you settle down again, facing him, with your arm forming a supportive triangle for your cheek. Sun spends a while trying to find a comfortable position, but eventually, he leans down near the edge of your blanket with his elbows akimbo against the deck and peers at your face. “Are you alright, Sunshine?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “For now, at least. No signs of inflammation or anything.”

Sun’s claws scrape against the planks of the deck. “Can I—Can I see?”

You raise a single brow. Better lay down some ground rules. “No licking.”

Sun nods, then shakes his head, then nods again. “No licking.”

“Or grabbing.”

Sun nods his head rapidly. “No grabbing.”

You frown and lean closer to him. “We’ve been over this. It’s not innocuous when anyone, let alone someone bigger than me, grabs me. By the water, it feels like my life’s in danger. If I need to leave, you won’t stop me, ever. That was the first and last time. Got it?”

Sun physically affirms yet again, head fins waving with the movement. “I understand. I promise!” He bows his forehead to the deck, revealing his nape to you.

You snort and pull your shirt over your head, then gesture at your shoulder like ‘knock yourself out, then’.

Sun scoots closer. His tongue pokes out between his lips, but then he hides it behind his teeth and sniffs at your skin. He pulls back and covers his snout. “What is that?” he exclaims, pointing at your shoulder with his free hand.

You try to look, with questionable success, and run your fingers lightly over the orange-stained area. “Uh, iodine, probably. Disinfectant—Germ-killer.”

Sun withdraws and presses his cheek against the planks of the deck, face tilted in the direction of the wound. His tongue pokes out again.

“Y’know, human wisdom says mouths are filthy”, you say.

Sun frowns. “Maybe yours are!” he accuses.

You give a startled laugh. “You know what, whatever. If I get some crazy infection, I’ll just blame you.” You flop on your back.

The petal-haloed disc of the Sun rises into your line of sight. “You’ll let me help?” Sun asks hesitantly, hopefully.

You make an ambivalent sound. “If it helps, then, yeah. Lick away, ya’ weirdo.”

Sun leans over you and laves his tongue over the scabs of your wound and, just as quickly, withdraws with a grimace. His face scrunches up, and he mimes gagging at the iodine-flavour. You cover your mouth as you guffaw at him, with half a mind to offer to wipe the worst of it off with a dampened corner of your shirt, but he ducks his head again and continues, regardless. You wait patiently as he licks over your skin, working his saliva into the scabs and the skin surrounding the bite mark and methodically ‘cleaning’ off the remnants of your disinfectant.

It’s weird. There’s no way around it. It’s also kind of nice… In a weird way. He just wants to take care of you. You sit up when Sun indicates he wants you to turn, and let him do his thing on the back of your shoulder while you swish your legs in the water. You quickly realize when Sun’s done, when his tongue adventurously trails along your nape.

“Is the biting a sex thing?” you ask, apropos of nothing.

Sun’s presence withdraws from your back with a squeak. “Well, yes!”

“Huh.”

“I-I thought you knew! You did it first!”

Sun hides his face in his hands when you turn incredulously to look over your shoulder. “… The hickey?” Or attempt thereof. “Sunny, if I meant to bite you, I’d bite you.”

Sun whines. “I’m sorry!”

“Do you want to?” you cut through. “… To fuck, that is.”

Sun lowers his hands, swaying a little as he stares at you. His chin lowers slowly, then raises again. “Yes.”

You lick your lips. “How… Familiar are you with human reproduction?”

Sun titters awkwardly. “Not very! But I know where your… reproductive organs are! And what they look like. And what they’re called!” He sounds more and more sure of himself as he goes on. “I can only assume it works similarly to us, because you have—the—pintle, and the cunny, and it seems logical that they would go together!”

You raise your brows, trying to hold back a half-impressed, half-amused smile. “Well, you evidently know more than I do. Nobody calls them that, though.”

Sun sniffs, crossing his arms. “I know, but most of the terms you people use are so vulgar!”

You lift your feet back onto the deck and turn around, poking the high point of Sun’s chest. “Okay, what do you have? I read a cloaca, maybe a sex organ.” You make a vulgar gesture with your hands to illustrate and keep your eyes on his face instead of peering at the front of his tail.

“Oh, I can explain!” Sun exclaims and points down. Your gaze follows. “This is the vent”, he says, pointing at a faint seam on the front of his tail, between the pelvic fins, “and males have pintles inside that come out when they’re needed!” He gestures copiously. “Females also have little cockeys.”

“Huh.” That sounds pretty similar. Now you are staring. “… And you’re sure you want to…? With me?” You meet his blank eyes.

“Do I need to bite you again?” Sun asks flatly.

“Uh.” Okay, you catch the drift. “No need.” You can’t keep eye contact. “I, um…” You press your thumb against your bottom lip and bite on the nail. “… Should prob’ly buy some rubbers.”

Sun tilts his head. “Huh?”

Chapter Text

As soon as you get back inside, you rinse the bite mark and slather it in disinfectant again. Sun can say what he wants, but you’re not that much of a daredevil. By tomorrow, the wound may have healed enough that it’ll be difficult to tell what made it—or what didn’t. The positioning is awkward, but facial dog bites aren’t unheard of, so a shoulder dog bite should be believable enough... right? Then you could get the tetanus booster. You abrade the skin around the wound with the fabric of your shirt, trying to relieve the itching. You could go check if the gas station sells condoms (it probably does), but you won’t swim until your shoulder is fine, so... Unless Sun agrees to let you—

You know what? You’ll just go. After throwing on clothes that you dare to show your face in public with, you walk to the gas station. As well as the rubbers, you buy snacks, trying not to feel self-conscious even though the cashier knows you. You should have taken the train to Bay, where nobody pays any attention to who their customers are.

Throughout the rest of the day, thoughts of intimate acquaintance with Sun spin in your brain like a carousel. You need to focus on something else.

You dig out a bag of old yarn scraps and a tutorial for simple friendship bracelets. The flat ones might take a while—maybe you’ll try something like that later—but the round spiral should be quick. You measure out some longer scraps in blue, lilac, and terracotta and start tying knots.

You sit on the gangway of the dock, feet in the water, waiting for Moon. The reeds in front and behind you bend in the light wind, shifting against each other with a susurrus. A weight in your pocket promises security, just in case.

Then hands grab your ankles and pull. With a yelp, you yank your legs out of the water and their grip. Moon lets you, appearing with a delighted snicker from under the gangway.

“Oh! My God!” You shout, plant your foot against his face and push, all but trying to shove him back underwater. “You absolute—massive turd!”

Moon keeps laughing lowly. He swims backwards until you can no longer reach him with your weaponized foot, then waits until you sit back down before swimming back into reach. “Too tempting”, he says softly, unbearably amused. You raise your chin and stare down at him, preparing to kick at him again. He raises his hands above the water, a gesture that might be mistaken for surrender. “No grabbing”, he rasps, and you at least pretend to take the promise at face value and settle down. He swims closer, long fingers grasping the edge of the gangplank and pulling him upwards. “Come here...” he tempts.

“No”, you say emphatically. “I have half a mind to go back to the stairs, you menace.”

Moon sinks back into the water with a dramatic groan.

You peer over the edge and settle on your belly across the gangway, knees bent and feet in the air so that you can face him. You lower your hand over the edge and into the water. Moon floats under you, mostly submerged, the star-spots of his head fin glowing faintly. His gift on your wrist draws his eye, and he looks pleased.

“Moon-moon.”

“Hmm?”

“I have something for you.” You fish the bracelet from your pocket, avoiding the headlamp, and let the bracelet dangle above Moon.

Moon grabs the edge of the gangway to pull himself more upright and takes the bracelet from you. He studies it for a good while.

“It’s just sock yarn, so it’ll get all soggy, but... It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing”, you explain.

Moon lowers his hand to the gangway, the bracelet tangled in his fingers. “Make room”, he says, not waiting for you to scoot back before he heaves himself up next to you.

You wrinkle your nose a little at all the water that he’s dripping everywhere. The night is cool enough that getting wet would be uncomfortable.

Moon offers the bracelet back to you. His eyes flick over your expression, and his grin widens minutely. “Tie”, he requests. “Please”. He taps his upper arm with the clawed forefinger of his other hand.

You purse your lips and take the bracelet from him, tying it around his wet arm, then lean in to plant a kiss on his cheek for good measure before pulling back.

Moon hums, running his fingers over the bracelet, eyeing you. You sit still, waiting for him to say or do something, either rebuff you or accept it or-

Moon leans closer, shifting his supporting hand next to your thigh. He presses his snout to your cheek and licks, then stays there, right next to you, watching you. You turn your head and press another kiss to his cheek, then to the corner of his mouth.

Moon turns his head away. “Don’t.”

Your heart drops straight through the gangway. “I—Sorry. I should’ve asked”, you breathe into the space between you.

“Weird human... Feeding behaviour”, Moon complains with a derisive wrinkle of his snout, but doesn’t withdraw from your personal bubble.

“Sorry”, you repeat. “Sun likes it, so...”

“Not Sun”, Moon says, as though you need the reminder.

“Yeah, I know. Um.” You watch him, still so close, silver and blue and glimmering. You raise your hand to run your fingers over his scales, but pause. “So... My kind of kissing isn’t your thing, but... What do you like?”

Moon’s gaze flicks to your hand, where you’re lowering it back to your lap. He presses closer to you, the scarlet of his eyes and the crescent of his grin in your vision, and pushes his snout back to your cheek. His claws ghost over the back of your hand. “Touching”, he says. Again, he licks your cheek, claws skittering up your arm, then to your side over your shirt.

“Oh. Okay”, you say, oh-so-smartly. You start safely with his cheek, biting your lip against the desire to mouth at him, and run your fingers over the curve of his chest, to the dip of his body that can only be a waist even sans a humanoid hipbone. There’s a slight burr when you brush your fingers up along the scales against the grain. Cool fingers press into your skin by your hip, then the entire palm, a pressure pulling you closer to Moon. His cheek is right there, so you take a page from his book and lick. Moon snickers and rubs his jaw against yours, then turns his head and licks your cheek again. He opens his mouth wider and scrapes his teeth lightly against your skin, letting them catch just a little.

You pull back slightly and give him a look. “Really?” The scent marking is one thing; the instinct to bite is very telling. Conspicuously, you stay comfortably in his hold.

Moon grumbles, pressing his snout into your cheek and pulling you more firmly against himself. “Really... really.”

You still have to confirm. “You want to—mating bites.” It’s an observation, not a suggestion, but Moon’s widening leer implies he’ll gladly take it as the latter.

He nips your jaw. “Hmm... Yes.”

You stare at him a moment longer, considering, even as his hand under your shirt feels along your back. Then you lower yourself back onto the gangway.

Moon snickers and leans over you. His other hand sneaks under your shirt as well, climbing up your side. His mouth finds the side of your neck, rough tongue and light, light teeth. “Swim with me...”

You pinch your eyes shut. “I can’t”, you moan dramatically.

Moon stops, and when you open your eyes, he’s staring at you. “What?”

You sigh and lift yourself onto your elbows. Moon’s digits still stroke over your skin. “It’s just the wound”, you explain, “I don’t think it’s good for it to be soaked in water.”

Moon says: “That’s stupid...”

“I’m a land animal, remember?” You poke his side pointedly.

Moon studies you. His gaze drops to your shoulder. His thumbs press into your waist, then leave your skin, one hand pulling your shirt up and away, bunched against your chin.

“Hey—!” you yelp before Moon ducks his head and licks your scabbed-over wound. Of course. You frown and tug on the neckline of your shirt so you can give him a miffed look through it.

Moon ignores you, only growling under his breath as he laves over the scabs. “What do you put on this...?”

“Germ-killer”, you huff. “Believe it or not, we also clean wounds.”

Moon chuckles. You push the front of your shirt over your head and wait. Sure, you’ll have to wash and disinfect the area again, but… It’s not uncomfortable.

Moon interrupts his licking to nuzzle your neck and run his claws over your sides again. He shifts, leaning his weight against you. You hook your legs around his tail. Moon’s hand runs over your thigh, then back to your hip. He tilts his head. “What’s this?” His digits dip into your pocket, and he pulls out the headlamp.

“Hey, don’t tou—!” you exclaim before Moon has it in front of his eyes and curiously squeezes down on the button.

His eyes widen when the light hits them. For a breath, his irises reflect white, and then he cringes back with a hand over his eyes, the other drawn back.

“Moon!” You intercept and grab his hand with both of yours to prise his fingers off the headlamp, while he hisses and shakes over you like a traumatized cat. You click through the lamp’s modes until it turns off and scoot back so you can sit up. Moon grabs your thigh, claws digging in.

“I tried to tell you not to touch it”, you say as you cup his cheeks, ignoring the sting of his grip.

He hisses and tucks his chin. “Hurts...”

“I’m sorry... I was kind of banking on that”, you admit, and pet over his head fin. “Just in case, you know.”

Moon groans. He wraps his arm around your middle and buries his face in your lap. “Stupid...”

“You’re stupid”, you reply without heat.

“Rude”, he grumbles.

“Yup.”

Chapter Text

You spend longer with Moon than you usually would. He tolerates your kisses just fine, so long as you don’t go for his mouth and, indeed, rather seems to enjoy the doting. By the time you trudge up the stairs to the sauna cabin, it’s well past your usual bedtime. You crawl into bed without even brushing your teeth, only just bothering to set an early alarm with calling the medical helpline in mind.

In the morning, you wake blearily to the alarm and drag yourself out from under the blanket to peer in the mirrored cabinet at the foot of the sofa bed. You tug on the neckline of your shirt and poke at the loose scabs on your trapezius, most of which flake off with minimal pushes of your nail. It looks good enough that it could pass for a lesser injury than what it was; barely a scratch, really. You reach for your phone and call the medical helpline, spinning a story about how a friend’s mastiff bit you a couple of days back because you were stupid and spooked him and the wound is fine, but last night, a family member told you that you’d need a tetanus booster if your shots aren’t up-to-date and so on and so forth. They squeeze you in for a quick poke at two this afternoon. That’s one less thing to worry about.

You climb up to the main house and dig around for more yarn. Moon said he snagged Sun with shiny gifts, and you already made Moon a bracelet (though one with more effort would be in order there, too), so you might as well stop by the craft store for some beads if you’re going to town, anyway. As you poke through the bags of yarn, it becomes apparent that the colour selection is varied enough that you’re presented with a dilemma. What colours to use? Yellow, orange, red and beige would be easy to associate with Sun himself, but this is a gift from you to him; it should remind him of you, not you of him. You’ll think about it.

You descend the hillside stairs to the shore to tell Sun you’ll spend time with him after your nurse’s appointment. You kneel to give him a kiss, and he nuzzles against you, promising to get you food when you get back. Sweet of him, as always, if unnecessary. You’re definitely getting your weekly dose of fish, though it does raise the question of how healthy it is to consume fish from this lake in large amounts. Is there a way to analyse them for pollutants? Hmm...

After getting your vaccine and gathering supplies at the craft store, drowsiness encroaches upon you. You dump the shopping bag on the sauna cabin’s terrace, grab your towel, and slump your way to the dock despite your bed calling to you; you promised Sun.

On the shore towards Blacklake there’s a splash, and you spot some swimmers around the outcrop by the cabin there.

Sun surfaces to your left, staying low in the water, top head fins flattened against his head.

You flop on your side on the deck and yawn. “Hi, Sunny.” You wave at him.

“Suuunshiiine!” Sun greets, stretching out the vowels. He reaches for your hand, and you let him draw it to himself and press his toothy mouth against the back of your hand like a kiss.

A smile creeps onto your face. “Hi.” Another yawn breaks out.

“Oh. You’re tired”, Sun says flatly.

“Mmmh, yeah”—another yawn—“it’s a common side effect of the... medicine I got.” You wave your hand dismissively.

Sun makes a brief sound of acknowledgment and swims laps along the side of the dock.

The people towards Blacklake keep making noise, so you glance over your shoulder. They don’t look in a hurry to leave. You flop back down. “Do you talk to any of the other people on the lake?”

Sun stops swimming and turns to look at you. “No.”

No surprises there. “Why not?”

Sun’s head fins fold back slightly. “Well! They’re—not interesting! No, no, why would I want to talk to them?”

You frown. “I... Guess.” His response is kind of... weird. “Why did you talk to me, then?”

Sun giggles awkwardly. “You seemed”, he waves his hands, ”nice!”

You squint at him. “What?”

“Well!” Sun squeaks. “I heard you talking! You were mad because of the people uphill polluting our home and... That was nice.”

“Oh.” Right, the truck park. You glance behind you again, finding the people on the outcrop finally leaving. You sit up with another yawn.

“Do you need to go to sleep?” Sun asks, concerned.

You shake your head. “Nah, I want to spend time with you.”

Sun’s head fins spring fully upright, and he lifts himself onto the dock with a splash.

You shove the towel at him before he can reach for you. “Dry up.”

Sun wrinkles his snout but does as he’s told.

You check that the neighbours truly are gone. “You know”, you venture, “it’s ironic that you welcomed me like I was new. I’ve visited for years.”

Sun pauses his drying. “Well, I needed an excuse to talk to you! Besides, you were new. I’d never seen you here before!” He continues running the towel over his scales. “Or... Maybe I had? But there were always other people, and you didn’t stay long enough for me to notice you!”

You shrug. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” This is the first time you’ve stayed at the sauna cabin for a longer time, after all.

With Sun more or less dry, you lean against him and wrap your arms around him. Sun squeaks a little and sets the towel aside, returning the hug. You press your cheek into his chest, and he lies down, letting you use him as a pillow. At least the muscles of his chest are better cushions, even with the glassy scales in between, than the bony shoulders he and Moon share. You fold your arms across his chest and look down at him with half-lidded eyes. Sun wraps his arm around you. An oddly moving scale on his shoulder draws your eye as he shifts.

You frown and lean closer above him. Between the shiny golden scales, there’s pink flesh visible, and one scale is completely missing; another is chipped. The damage forms the shape of a crescent, faint, but there.

“Hey, what’s this?” you ask, pointing at the mark. Of course, you have a pretty good guess, considering you have the fading remnants of one yourself.

“Oh”, Sun says, voice grinding, grin sharp. He pokes a claw into your ribs. “Someone left my Moon a little pent-up!”

Your eyes widen. Sun snickers, covering his mouth with his free hand. His eyes are narrowed as he grins up at you. “I might be a little annoyed if I were left out entirely.” He tilts his head at you. Both hands find their way to your sides.

Your cheeks prickle with growing heat. “Uh... Well... You’re clearly not. Left out, that is.” You settle back down against his chest and close your eyes. “If anything... I think you get to spend more time with me.”

Sun makes a clicking sound in his throat. “That is true.” One of his hands leaves your waist, and his claws land on your cheek, lightly running over your skin.

You slide off his chest into the crook of his arm, take his hand, and kiss his palm. You settle comfortably against his chest and trace your fingers along the prominent bone in the middle. There’s no softness of unprotected organs past his ribcage as you press your fingers into his scales, exploring. No navel. Only, lower down, the lobed pelvic fins, like stumpy limbs, the line of the vent between them, and eventually the three terminal fins of his tail. You let your fingers slide slightly closer to the pelvic fins. There’s no sign of pelvic bones, or, at least, nothing akin to the large crests of the hip bones that humans have. Sun’s hand closes over yours. You let him slide it down and don’t pull back when he lets go.

Sun’s tail flicks sideways. “... This is what you wanted, yes?” he asks, sounding strangled.

You tilt your head upwards until you can catch his blank gaze, your fingers tracing lightly over the sides of his vent. “Kinda, yeah. I’m curious.”

Sun grins at you, tense and awkward.

You stop. “Is that alright?”

Sun’s eyes widen, and he nods rapidly. “Yes! Yesyesyes! I’m just—nervous!” He titters, nervously indeed.

“But... why?” Your eyes flick to his shoulder. If he’s having sex with Moon, this shouldn’t be that new to him.

Sun tucks his chin and fiddles with one of his lower head fins. “I’m afraid you won’t like what I have.”

You draw a breath to answer, to reassure him that you’re sure it’ll be great, but then pause. “... Uh... I think… You as a whole are more… meaningful than some part of you.” You trace your fingertip over the sides of Sun’s vent again, eyes on him, making him squirm a little before he nods.

“You can put your fingers inside—“ he bites off.

You chuckle. “I figured. Let me get the lay of the land first, hmm?”

Sun narrows his eyes, his grin tight. His tail flicks. “Of course.”

So, you focus back on running your fingers over the sides of the vent, along the slit of it, watching with interest as the sides pull apart slightly and grow puffier, especially on the top edge. You rub along the swelling at the top, and Sun whines, pushing into your fingers. You press a finger into the valley of the vent and, finally, inside. His body is warmer around your finger than the surface of his scales, but still only barely above lukewarm. Near the top, there are two divots surrounded by slightly protruding tissue.

Sun shimmies his tail side to side, shifting his channel around your finger, so you push in a second finger and continue exploring the walls, finding the rest of the channel quite smooth with a sort of fibrous structure. Deeper in, Sun’s pulse thrums through the walls against the tips of your fingers. The channel feels tighter, especially around the rim, and when you pull your fingers out a little, the dips near the top are gone, replaced by points of swelling.

“What is this?” you ask, feeling around it more.

“The pintl—Ah!” Sun bucks into your hand as you press against the swelling.

“Oh!” You grin and run your fingers around the swelling before pulling your fingers mostly out so you can rub your fingertips against it.

Sun shies away from the touch slightly—must be sensitive—and then something presses against your palm and pushes along it, on both sides of your wrist—

You pull back your hand and stare.

“Oh, my God.” That is—“Holy shit.” There are two. With pale tips and fat, deep maroon sides and... spikes? That’s a little concerning. You press a finger to a spike near the tip of one of the two appendages. It bends under the pressure, pliant; it looks scarier than it feels. The pintle twitches under your touch, and Sun squirms, nudging it more against your hand. You wet your lips. Your eyes feel as though they’re watering, and you blink and look up to Sun. “I-I’m going to get a rubber. Wait a second.”

You scramble to your feet—Sun makes a small alarmed sound—peck a kiss on his cheek to reassure him, and book it to the sauna cabin. You grab the condoms and a blanket before racing back down to the dock, drowsiness all but forgotten. Sun has curled up on himself, and the gaze he turns towards you is somewhat baleful. You crouch next to him and hold the blanket up behind your back like a screen. “For privacy!” You hook it over your head and pull the sides towards Sun, so that it gives at least some semblance of privacy on the sides, as well.

Sun glances around. “I don’t think there’s anybody here...”

“Well, maybe not, but it still feels a bit exposed.” You place your hand on Sun’s tail next to his pintles, then run a finger down the underside of one. It seems slightly smaller now, softer against your hold when you wrap your hand around it. You run your thumb over the pliant spines. “This is so cool...” you mumble, starry-eyed.

Sun squirms. “Sunshine, please—“

You chuckle. “Sorry.” You break open the wrapper of the condom and carefully roll it over one of Sun’s pintles, making sure to leave the pinched pocket at the tip.

Sun’s very still. “What is that?” he asks flatly.

You look up. “Oh.” You chuckle, crumpling and pocketing the wrapper. “Sorry. It’s a protective barrier, like... in case there’s something on your pintle that isn’t good for me, or if there’s something in my mouth that isn’t good for you.” You rub your hands over both pintles and, with your eyes on Sun’s expression, lean over to lick the condom-covered pintle. The smell and texture of the condom is in the ballpark of mildly off-putting, but Sun’s mouth falling open, his eyes glued to your mouth, and the little wriggle he does to press closer makes it worth it.

You close your mouth over the tip, and Sun whines: “Wait—what about your teeth?!”

You stop and pull back. Right, maybe... Maybe with how sharp waterfolk teeth are and no suckling, this isn’t something they do. “Uh. They’re—blunt. Um. Humans do this all the time, just—let me try? I’ll stop if you say.”

Sun tilts his head, then nods, and you wrap your lips around the tip of the pintle again, careful with your teeth, and suck lightly. Sun gasps, “Oh—oh, oh—”, and that’s probably good, so you continue, holding one pintle in your hand, sucking and licking its tip while pumping the shaft of the other with your other hand alone. Sun’s hips shift side-to-side under your hold and judging by the sound of scraping against wood, he’s digging his claws into the planks of the deck. His pleasured vocalizations swoop from your ears straight to your abdomen and squeeze. You release the hold of your pinkie and ring finger to allow yourself to take him deeper into your mouth, then move your other hand from the second pintle to his vent, gently pushing in a finger, then two, then three—there’s more room now that the pintles are extended—and rub along the walls. Sun gives an utterly whorish moan that would make you laugh if your mouth weren’t so very occupied. You chuckle through your nose, anyway.

Sun pushes his hips into your hand, pintle pushing deeper into your mouth while he gasps your name. It’s starting to feel hot under your privacy screen blanket.

“Sunshine”, Sun moans, “Please!” He grabs your hand—the one you’re fingering him with—and tries to fuck himself with it more. You slip in the fourth finger and give it to him. The neglected pintle in your line of sight twitches, drawing your attention to it, followed by a pulse and swell of the one in your mouth as Sun pushes into you, hand still gripping your wrist, keening, trembling—and then he slumps, the grip of his hand loosening.

You stay still for a moment. Then you pull back from his pintle, careful, careful not to scrape your teeth against the swollen head.

Sun lies limp under you, gasping for breath; even his gill flaps are flaring. As you go to pull your fingers out, he yelps and grips your wrist, this time with both hands. “Nonononono! Don’t—!” You freeze. Sun freezes as well. Then his fingers pet your wrist. “Stay”, he pleads.

Oh, God. You blink your eyes rapidly to dissipate the eye-watering sensation. You—you should buy a strap-on.

“Okay”, you say, your voice coming out hoarse. Your mouth feels like you’ve sucked on a canola oil popsicle.

Sun relaxes, clawed fingers still petting over your wrist. He shifts a little, curling his upper body closer to you. You slowly release your grip on his pintle, but due to how swollen it still looks, leave the condom on for now, just carefully lying down next to him and pulling the blanket further over you both. It’s no surprise when he loops an arm around you and pulls you close. Ah, post-coital cuddling goes across species lines.

Chapter Text

In the evening, you get started on the bracelet for Sun. The colour combo you picked is pretty cute, even if you say so yourself. The chevron-style friendship bracelet is surprisingly quick work, and the bracelet is well underway by nine when you pull on your swimwear, grab your swim goggles, and saunter to the shore.

You wrap the elastic of the swimming goggles around your wrist and take a running start, bombing into the water with a massive splash. You swim to the surface, hold the goggles in the air to pour the water out, and snap them in place over your eyes.

After swimming a few laps, you settle on floating, ears underwater, listening for any change in the sounds. As you fill your lungs, your whole body rises. With each exhalation, your legs want to sink and pull you under. You relax into the embrace of the light waves, the pale summer-night sky above you, the dark fingers of the evergreens reaching towards the void in your peripheral vision.

Points of touch land on the sides of your waist, and you suppress a jolt and a violent reaction. "Hi, Moon", you say pointedly, remaining floating.

Moon surfaces by you, laughing softly, his clawtips dimpling your flesh as he presses his fingers into your abdominal muscles. "Tense..." He tugs on your waist, and you give up on floating and let him pull you upright. A hand leaves your waist, and his clawed finger slips under the strap of your swim goggles. "What is this?"

"Swim goggles", you say dryly. "So I can keep my eyes open underwater more comfortably. Do not snap the strap."

Moon hums, tugging on the strap slightly like he's considering it, like a cat going to push a vase to the floor. He slips his finger out, letting the elastic settle smoothly back against your skin. His scales brush against your arm and your thigh. He nudges your cheek with his snout and releases you, then swims off, leaving you to paddle in place.

Hesitantly, you go to follow him, ducking your face underwater to find him. He's blue and silver and shimmering, the contrast of his night-sky luminosity easy to spy, if only you hadn't lost sight of him.

A brush along your shin makes you kick your leg reflexively. You whip around to face Moon, and he presses close again, another nudge, and off he goes.

This time, you make chase. You have to surface to gasp a breath very soon, but Moon doesn't make you lose him again. He rolls, and again, changing his swim path to be perpendicular to yours. Another roll, and he remains belly-up, then loops down and back up, breaching the surface. You stick your head above water and gasp a breath, just catching the splash when he lands. When you dive again, he's rolling lazily, around and around. His laughter carries in the water. His swim path curves towards you, and as before, he brushes against you as he passes and then speeds off. You follow, popping to the surface for a quick breath when needed.

He lets you catch him. You run your fingers across the tips of one of his arm fins as you pass. He slows to a stop, keeping position with minute shifts of his arms and fins. His eyes track you, pupils rounder than you've seen them be above water, like little fortune cookies. You reach out, cup his cheek, and smirk. 'Tag, you're it', you mouth, and swim off as fast as your shitty limbs can take you. You should dig out the swim fins to even the playing field at least a little. The scratchy laugh chasing you makes a shiver run down your spine, and not entirely in a good way. Playing these kinds of games with a predator is perhaps not the wisest course of action you could have taken. For all the current relative peace, there's a reason waterfolk are the material of warnings not to swim alone.

Having to surface for breath is disorienting every time. As you duck your face underwater again, you spy a flash of starry dappling below you and immediately start paddling backwards, changing directions before Moon has quite even cut you off. You need to get the fucking snorkel, too, or maybe a new one; the one at the sauna might be older than you are.

Moon darts ahead of you again, and it drives home just how much he's been indulging you, or toying with you; you almost plow right into him. The leer he meets your expression with is utterly delighted. He lifts a finger before popping above the surface, and you follow suit, lungs burning.

"What is this game?" he asks.

You gasp a few breaths. "Uh, tag—" You're too winded.

His eyes practically glitter as he swims closer. "Tag." He pokes your nose. "You're... it...? And now you chase?"

"Yeah", you say on an inhale.

"What does it mean?" Moon asks, tilting his head as he swims backwards, out of your reach.

"It's—nothing, it's just a—a recess game, a kids' game", you answer between pants.

Moon snickers, then hums, coming closer again. "You thought I was really hunting you", he sing-songs. There's nothing upset about it.

"Huh-how—how could you tell?"

The point of his claw lands against your sternum, his eyes following its path. He laughs, and it crawls down your spine like fear or a caress. "Told you... In water, we yefraide better.” His gaze flicks up to yours. "Continue? This was... fun."

You heave a breath. "I think I need a breather", you admit in a rush.

"Shame", Moon says, almost a hiss, yet without heat. "But, I thought so..."

You look around and, with a chill, find you're not entirely sure where you are. Whitelake isn't that large of a lake, but you've gotten turned around, and from wherever you are, nothing looks familiar. You're close to a shore, but not one you recognize. Asking Moon for help is an option, but you know this lake well enough that you should be able to figure it out. You start swimming towards the wide open back of the lake; from there, you'll surely know where to go.

Moon remains by you all the way, keeping to your pace. From closer to the middle of the lake, you spy the outcrop by the baylet towards Blacklake, and from there, it's easy to find your dock, the next one to the right.

You climb up the ladder, limbs shaking, and slump onto the deck. Your swim goggles have enough water in them that it's a nuisance. You push them up on your forehead.

Moon heaves himself onto the dock and leans over you. "Tired?"

You make a non-committal but very communicative noise. Speech feels like too much effort. How are you this wiped, after all the swimming you've done with Sun? Then again, he's never pushed you like this. You always remain in the vicinity of your dock. "I feel like a dishrag", you groan. "Wrung out and hung to dry."

Moon chuckles. "Poor human..." He sounds amused, but then falls silent for a moment. He leans his elbow on the deck and his chin on his palm. The pose draws a dramatic curve along his back. His shoulder blades form a strange C-like shape under his scales. “Mean no harm”, he says at length. “Hope you know that. But, you are very entertaining...”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Gee, thanks”, you say dryly and reach a hand towards the sky. “I do know. I think.”

Moon’s wet tail slaps your legs. You yelp and kick it off you, smacking his upper arm with the back of your hand as he pokes your ribs with his knuckles. “Eugh! Cold!”, you squeal. “Know it”, he laughs. “Stop it!” you reply, batting off his hands and reaching out to pinch his cheek, a bit surprised when it actually works.

A startled laugh escapes you. You tug him by his cheek, as though shaking him. “Bad Moon.”

His fingers close over your wrist, and you let go. Moon watches you for a moment, and you watch him, and then he leans closer to you, a starry winter-night silhouette against the pale summer-night sky. He nuzzles your cheek. “Swim more? Or is it late?” His claws skitter over your thigh.

You sigh. “A bit. I should go to sleep.”

He hums a little.

You’re not moving, even though you should. You reach out, press your palm to his long nape, and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Night-night, Moonie”, you whisper.

“Good night…” He licks your cheek. “My… mine.”

Your heart skips a beat. You stare at him, wide-eyed. He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Hm. Sleep.” He withdraws from you, and with a splash, he’s gone.

Chapter Text