Chapter Text
Cool water ran across the merman’s skin as he splashed away from the human boy at the shore. He cut through waves like a bone spear, darting in and out of rock fixtures to make his way home.
That Jon boy was curious for sure. Sharing one’s food was in no way the decision of an intelligent soldier, but he was undoubtedly strong. His ability to swim in the air was troubling, even Damian’s father with all his abilities couldn’t do something like that. (Damian had discovered this at the same time he had discovered that humans will asphyxiate when kept underwater too long.) It was a troubling case for sure, luckily he had already decided he’d keep the boy around.
Jon seemed gullible and easy enough to keep if his moon eyes and dopey face were any indication. Whatever those faces meant, merfolk who made them in the past were easily manipulated by Damian’s suggestion.
The food—that would be priority. Kelp and algae were fine, sure, but this sanded-witch tasted far better and could be procured with little effort. That sun machine the Jon boy had, he’d get that too. Maybe he could formulate a plan to make Jon his human pet that would procure land items.
That plan wasn’t without a hitch though. Damian shuddered at the idea of spending prolonged time with a land-dweller he had no relationship with. He was meant to be alone for now. He could swim across the water faster than any sailfish, it was a waste of resources to be tied down to this stupid human bay. He was a force of nature, not a son or even a ‘friend’. He had the company of his own mind and the ocean, and that’s all he needed until his shoal returned. Not to mention the undercurrent of fear these stupid creatures brought him. His mothers words laid ripe in his mind as unplucked fruit as he avoided thinking about it. The longer he didn’t acknowledge that communicating with people was the last thing she wanted from him, the more her words rotted and contorted into shame.
He continued to dart between decaying ships and crimson coral growths using only muscle memory. It wasn’t long before he’d arrived home without even realizing, as more and more recently he’d become rather disconnected. He’d come upon places without recognizing them and float absently from place to place. present was becoming some pleasant memory rather than reality.
Damian nodded at the small overturned fishing ship to bid it hello. The ship was scarcely big enough to fit himself and his few belongings, yet he found himself speaking as though he was being watched. Damian had come upon it months ago and decided to set up camp for what he would tell himself was safety rather than comfort, and continued to constantly conduct himself as though mother was still there.
Paint peels off rotting wood while the dilapidated roof sinks, as if taking a deep breath of water through the small holes that had formed in the roof. Those holes had small windows of light that streamed through like stars. Damian appreciated this the first night he’d made shelter here, and ultimately this recreation of those hot balls of gas and their warm glow had been what kept him here.
He’d found twinkling red and green lights during a cold season and stole them off the doc, but for some reason they wouldn’t light up like they did for land dwellers. He’d strung bits of coral and green glass along them, hoping they might light up again and reflect his work. He ran his finger along the wooden boat to rub away some growing algae. Even if they didn’t glow, he was satisfied to have one more thing the land dwellers didn’t.
Damian swam cleanly through the mud tunnel enterance and into his wooden home, circling to burrow himself in the soft ship sails he’d made a nest of. His muscles relaxed slightly as he flopped onto his back to look up at the hole covered roof of his ship. He’d etched small spirals around the ceiling until he had no more space, he lovingly traced his fingers along each of them. It was depressing to have no more room to doodle, but ultimately satisfying to see the work covering the ship.
It created a fullness in his chest to look over carvings, art and pictures. When he finally felt satisfied with his onlooking, he reached a few feet over to grasp at his books. He rolled to his stomach with a copy of “I-Nu-Ya-Sha”. He attempted to muscle through reading a few more of the fragile pages, grunting in frustration when the words didn’t obey and make sense.
His fingers subconsciously ground against each other, destroying the corner of a page. He grunted.
It was making little difference to practice on his own when the words were not only in another language, but referenced a world he knew very little about. He was previously teaching himself reading with his father, however, lately the lessons were all ending the same way, creating an ultimate disinterest in Damian continuing.
He’d been trying to finish a paragraph of Moby Dick when it came up again.
Looking down over Damian, father was more statue than man. It made the performance of learning to read even more difficult. To feel those stone gray eyes remain impassive. Even if he was doing well, there was no response from the cold stone father. No punishment or reward.
Damian came to a word that gave him pause. Incumbent. He squinted, attempting to sound it out. He struggled a moment before clicking loudly to signal that not only could he not read it, but he had no idea what the fuck it could possibly mean.
Father leaned in and put his finger on the word.
“Incumbent. It means to bear responsibility,” Father said. Completely neutral.
Damian looked down awhile before nodding, “Oh. I am incumbent,”.
Father stared for a moment before nodding. The merman felt a bit of pride at that. He puffed his chest up and pointed a finger at himself.
“We incumbent.” He points animatedly between them. “Responsible for family,”.
Suddenly father’s eyes softened as he turned to look out of the cave.
Oh no.
“It’s getting a bit late, maybe you’d want to come home for us to finish this up?” He kept a casual composure. Maybe he thought his unaffected gaze and lowered defenses would make the question seem like it wasn’t a big deal to the merman.
Damian backed away, lowering into the water. He shook his head. It didn’t work.
“I know you’re waiting on your mother,” Father always looked strained at the mention of her. “I just think it might make both our lives easier if you could wait for her with me, in my home. You could read all day, Alfred would make you tea, and your brothers-“
“I have no brother. I stay.” Damian interrupted. His face was becoming redder than his tail.
Father seemed disheartened. He made an expression that the merman couldn’t read.
“This sneaking around isn’t easy for anyone.”
Was he angry with Damian? Why? The merman hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true.
“Family not easy. When current strong, family swim stronger,” Damian insisted, slowly pushing the words through his teeth.
He felt his throat beginning to constrict as hot tears bubbled at the sides of his eyes. He still wasn’t sure why he did this, his mother and grandfather couldn’t do it. It was probably something human in him. He hated it.
Damian hiccuped and gulped down sobs that clawed their way up his throat like crustaceans. This feeling was suffocating, and he didn’t want to feel it anymore.
“Damian, please. Family doesn’t have to be hard. We can make this easy for you,” Father pleaded.
It was infuriating to have someone make it sound like it was that easy. If family could have always been easy, why was it so hard for so long?
Besides, if he left now they might never find him, and he wanted nothing more to return to his shoal. Even if it wasn’t as warm a welcome as learning to read by moonlight; it was all he knew. And it certainly wasn’t helpful to have someone always circling the implication that you’re an inconvenience to visit.
“No. If life so hard by me, no more come.” Damian spat.
His mouth scrunched and his brows furrowed tightly. After a second of silence sat heavy as a manatee between them, Father spoke once more.
“Alright, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I have to go, goodnight,”.
He knew he didn’t have to do anything. In some ways that was the problem.
Damian descended until only his eyes were exposed above the water. Father turned around at the exit of the cave.
“Please consider what I’ve asked,” he said, voice barely audible.
He tossed a metal object in Damian’s direction.
They clambered together under the water as he held them with a tight grip.
After that they were interrupted by whom Damian now knew to be the Jon-human.
It was frustrating- his fathers inability to listen. He was going to wait here for his mother to find him, which she would eventually. Maybe she was lost, or hurt, and when she finally came to him with grandfather Damian would have to save them. He’d rub them in spiced salves and lay their weary bodies (tired from searching endlessly for him) in the nest they’d made from sunken silks. They’d thank him in a language he could understand, holding him, before taking him away from this awful place and back to their home. The merman rubbed his temple as an icepick began to drill into the back of his eyes; the beginning of a tension migraine.
He wished he’d kept the copy of Moby Dick.
Damian slammed the comic closed and pressed it into his lap with force. He was angry at the memory, his inability to read, other people’s unwillingness to understand him. Why was it so hard for others to simply behave and make his life easier? Why did he have to do the work?
He wanted to be home, but he couldn’t be home. He was stuck.
The room felt smaller. Sometimes when he was like this, the water felt suffocating. His lips parted allowing his gills to take in the rich oxygen held by the oceans floor. The room wasn’t just a little smaller—it was too small. He couldn’t be here one more minute, it was time for a trip.
A small white bag tailored from ship sails was packed with his books and keys. Damian dressed himself with nimble fingers, where he was going he needed to look presentable. He tied the bag around his waist and secured it with a small piece of wire. He circled towards the small broken mirror in the corner of his ship to take a look.
He pulled at his cheeks, examining the sallow eye bags forming from his many sleepless nights. He pushed his hair back, attempting to comb his fingers through the jet black mass. After a few hopeless minutes, he gave up and decided that there was no fixing the hair or his face so he might as well look elsewhere.
An emptied pink clam held his various adornments and bobbles, a few of them leftover from his time living with Mother in the Arabian coast. He pushed a spiral shaped earring made of bone through the holes in his ear fin, wincing as he realized he’d let them close a bit. Golden engraved rings and strung pearls embellished his hands and neck.
He wore these adornments very sparsely. He was too afraid of losing any piece of her left behind to carelessly wear the jewelry.
It was often that at this point Damian would become too stressed about his appearance to attempt to leave the house. He’d become insecure, insecure would become angry, angry often lead to tears, and at the point he might as well just stay home. That was why he lurked around familiar areas rather than go out. He’d rather not embarrass himself. Well, that and he didn’t want to risk the danger of his family returning to an empty nest.
Then again, if he hadn’t avoided going out last time and returned to the cave he wouldn’t have met Jon. That would have been a wild waste of resources on his part. After all, if a human throws trash in his home and he’s not around to see it, nobody will pick it up. At least that’s what works as a confidence booster, even if it likely isn’t true.
——
The many cities of the Pacific Ocean were colorful and bright along human bays and densely populated by different kinds of sea people. Coral fixtures, caves and seaweed groves became home to thriving enterprises and homes for merpeople. Sunken cave systems were hidden just below for hiding, sleeping, and living when humans made their way below to spelunk, research, or hide a body. Those cities, while beautiful, weren’t safe. Mother had made it clear long ago that occupying those cities was like walking into a giant net. If you were stupid enough to do it, you deserved what was coming to you. Besides being a walking death trap, they were also generally irritating to Damian by their congested and bustling nature.
Damian was instead making his way towards the far less popular Trench city. The only person he trusted to give advice in the absence of his family lived there, he had to go. No matter how unsavory it was.
He swam for hours, until the muscles in his tail strained red and hot under his gills, and he wasn’t sure he could push further. Soon the visible ground beneath him dropped off into nothingness, surrounding him in only water.
Despite this blue blanket being what he was surrounded by for the strong majority of his life, it was no comfort. Blue stretched on for as far as he could see in a dizzying manner. No floor, no ceiling. Just the endlessness of an ocean that didn’t care where he was going. This sinking feeling always sobered Damian into realizing just how much life there was compared to him. It was an all encompassing force far bigger than himself, stronger than himself. Every once in a while a strong current would caress his body to rock him backwards like a blue mother. The more tired he became, the more the merman allowed her to rock him in the direction she chose. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his true mother was screaming at his dull weakness.
Hours of the day trudged on as he swam. Damian felt a familiar pang in his stomach, like rocks churning tightly in his abdomen. He needed to catch a ride.
Grey whales migrated near this area during warm seasons. While it was slower than his own tail, he unfortunately needed a rest and this was his best bet. A pod of three were making their way through the water above him, he drifted up to the group. A mother, older male and child. Artfully dodging the other two, Damian outstretched his arms to reach for the mother. He found hold on the deep ridges in the skin of the whale’s underbelly, gripping the bumpy soft blubber lightly.
Above him the creature bellowed lowly, aware of his presence. Whales were often used as transport by sea dwellers, they had become used to some odd creature latching itself to their body as they traveled. If Damian knew what a bus was, he’d make the mental comparison.
He rode on the whales warm stomach for some time, always sure to keep his elbows tucked in to remain close. The lids of his eyes became heavy as he rode the large beast. The merman remained in a space between the world of the awake and the world of the sleeping in order to maintain his grip on the large animal. After several hours he felt fine to continue his journey on tail.
The light began streaming from his vision as he made his way down, water began pushing on his body at all sides. Damian had been to the deep before, he was familiar with the way his body began to suddenly feel crunched under the pressure of the water.
His ears ached. His tale grew harder to move. Suddenly he lost all light, as only deepborne merpeople could see in this part of the ocean.
Damian knew at this point that he had another mile down to go. He kept the rules of the deep in his mind with caution.
Do not investigate light sources, do not make loud noises, swim slowly, do not near any creatures you come across until safely inside the deep city.
He ventured slowly. Occasionally small bits of fish or pieces of algae floated past, frightening him. He didn’t want a jellyfish floating where he couldn’t see. Damian traced his hand along the pink sting scar on his hip. A barrel jelly had gotten him a year back on the coast, and he could’ve easily avoided it by paying attention. No amount of paying attention could actually help you in the deep.
Finally a soft blue glow appeared in Damian’s peripheral. It grew outwards like it was reaching for him. The further he swam, the deeper his breaths from the stuffy water became. The Deep City was not built along the bottom of the ocean, if it was Damian would probably be dead. Large cave systems had been settled by the Deep-Bore in the mouth of the Mariana Trench. It was eventually made friendly for visiting merfolk from the coasts and mid oceanic levels as trading grew.
Despite being the most judged group in the ocean, the deep borne were the only ones actively trying to make their home habitable for those who previously couldn’t exist there. Coastal dwellers could never be so kind.
He made way into the giant mouth of the cave that served as entrance to the village, being swallowed by the trench. Its edges were lined by neat rows of bioluminescent algae that gave the city soft blue light, casting navy shadows across Damian’s form. Each home was made of sturdy rock that had been built into the cave’s interior.
Jellyfish floated along the walls in netted farms between homes, where they produced various colorful lights. The jellies were held in place by large nets built from seaweed, but their wiry tendrils still floated haphazardly. Despite being the cave grandly big, Damian feared a stray Jelly stinging him. These jellies were made poisonous by their ability to glow. Deep Borne could withstand such stings, but Damian could not, and he had no money to pay for such a treatment.
He swam a while through the streets, glancing at the many houses and small shops ran by Deep Dwellers. As he drifted through he was given a few odd looks and the occasional wave from a translucent hand. It didn’t help that his perpetual frown made him appear prejudiced rather than simply grumpy.
Soon he found what he was looking for, a two story deep home. Like the others, it was simply a small cave that had been carved into shape with bone tools. The bottom floor was a shop decorated with a driftwood sign that had the words “Death’s Human Merchandise” carved in common Sirenia glyphs. It used to be in human language, but nobody entered the shop because they couldn’t read it. Damian felt a bit prideful that he could’ve pieced it together now from his weeks of working on his English.
Damian swam through the entrance tentatively, he hadn’t been in this place in a few months. He smacked his head realizing he’d have to give some lame excuse explaining his lack of visit.
Brownish black floorboards lined along the ground hiding the black cave rock underneath. Framed pictures hung along the walls, and large dilapidated wooden shelves were lined with all manor of human belongings, from clothing to metal tools. They were laid out with exuberant price markings , this was by far the most expensive store in the whole Deep. The rooms had fixtures of lighting that were non bioluminescent, soft yellow light came from brass fixtures with glass faces on the floor.
Damian drifted between the shelves to eye metal jewelry, rolled up scrolls and chests full of human clothes. He looked thoughtfully and drummed his fingers along the wood. The brown ridges felt pleasant along his fingers, human items fit sweetly in his palms. These musings were a distraction from his procrastinated purpose; he needed to find her.
Damian trudged through the front room to the back of the store, where could she be?
It wasn’t much longer before Damian came upon the young mermaid laying languidly on a jade green rug. She swished her tail back and forth, launching it over her shoulder and pushing it back again as she read a human book intently on the floor.
Her name was Nika, which Damian had come to know after years of fighting with her over the same catches. Names were an intimate thing to Deep Borns, he’d known her by her hunting name Flatline before that. It took months of talking and sheepish glances (and mostly her attempting to rip his heart from his chest, but they got past that) to learn her name.
Nika’s mother had been a viper moray, so if you didn’t look closely or only caught a glimpse of her, she wouldn’t seem like a creature of the deep. She’d pass as something unremarkable, which was anything but true. Upon closer inspection one could see the way her skin was almost translucent as it faded into her inky black tail. It was plump soft, disguising the power in the strong muscles that moved on it, flexing like strong waves. Her fins were long black spiky frills. Her teeth were sharp like knives. Everything on her body was a contradiction, the white of her skin and hair to the black of her tail. The magenta of her lips. The softness, the compelling danger.
The biggest indicator of her oddity was the bright lure extending from her nest of silvery white hair. She’d sometimes tuck it in, or cover it with some accessory from the store.
She wanted more than anything to be whatever was most convenient. Versatility was a gift, and she was blessed with it. When that purple lure was hidden she could be Nika, the local eel girl far from her depth in the deep. However, lurking in the black shadows of the trench she was a refined assassin. Lost Merfolk, fish, humans. She was alluring in more ways than one.
Sirens don’t always have to sing. Sometimes they just glow.
That was a lesson in danger. Some people can hide the thing that will most quickly cue the world into the danger of knowing them. One of many lessons that could be learned from her, not including the power of accessories and the intrigue of post mortem processes.
Damian drew close to her, licking his lips and scratching at his scales before thumping his tail on the ground. She looks up startled, eyes wide and mouth forming a small ‘O’. His skin itches.
She stares at him a moment, looking up and down with an analytical gaze. Suddenly Damian is painfully aware how thin he was getting.
She stares. His skin itches. One of them has to break the silence.
“Long time no see,” she scolds, fluttering towards him.
Nika wins again.
“Been busy,” he answers.
“Yeah right, you do nothing but sit around and wait,”.
“Hey, I do things!”
She rolls her eyes, “Maybe you used to. Not lately,”.
He scrunches his nose and circles around to face the bobbles on a nearby shelf. He grabs a small figurine and examines it hoping to avoid her gaze. His fingernail breaks on its bronze exterior, he bites the remainder of it off.
“Well, I’m doing something visiting you aren’t I?”.
Her face remains impassive. She drifts away, floating towards the tunnel in the back leading to the second floor. Damian follows. He’d been in her home before, when it felt less significant. Now it felt like being dragged back into something serious.
He floated along the walls behind her, the light from her head created a familiar guide. She held her hand back distantly to touch his shoulder, and Damian flinched like she’d burned him. Nika began to nervously play with her fingers and swim forwards. It’s not that he didn’t feel bad. He did. She’d touched him before and it had been fine, but everything was different now.
If this was her way of trying to get something out of him he wouldn’t let her.
Months ago he finally realized that if her mother had been an eel, her father had to have been an anglerfish for her lure to exist. The logistics of that were…kind of gross. He’d asked about it with a combination of curiosity and judgment he’d never admit to.
Nika swam towards him with a grin that stretched like taffy. Her eyes alight she pressed the tips of her fingers along his shoulders, slowly making their way to his collar bones. He melted, nobody had touched him in months. Damian tried to hide the way his face contorted into shock because there was no way this was a normal reaction.
“I guess the women in my family like short guys,” she mumbled, plump lips parted.
At the time Damian wasn’t sure if the hungry look in her eyes was from starvation or something else. Knowing Nika now, it could have been both. She liked her pleasures to not be separated.
His mouth pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do whatever she was implying, but a small voice in his brain was screaming.
Love me. Don’t leave. You see me.
He realized that he would’ve done whatever it took to simply have someone be near him that he enjoyed. He’d let foreign hands invade his body for any comfort until he was sour from touch altogether. They fought about it, frequently. His complete lack of interest turned her off, he was never turned on to begin with. After that he couldn’t find her for weeks, he took it as a hint.
Based on the way her hips swished angrily and her brows were furrowed—she wanted him to chase her. He couldn’t do that. Damian needed her differently than she needed him. It didn’t help that every time he saw her felt like the last time.
You’re leaving me. I was too much. You don’t want me if I don’t obey. Nobody does.
They rounded a corner and he floated up slowly to swim beside her, she didn’t look back at him. His face reddens as he wonders if visiting his ex to ask for help was a mistake.
Her room is the same as he remembers. It’s surrounded by lights that she’s collected from the land, making it as well lit as the coast. Damian reflects on the time he’d spent here with a note of sorrow. It’s sad for good things to end.
He runs his hands along her shelves and keeps his eyes anywhere but on her.
She looks expectantly.
He pulls out the books from his bag, along with the keys and the letters. She takes them from his hands carefully so their fingers don’t brush. Something about it releases a tension in his chest.
“What do you need?” She asks.
He points to the keys, “These first, what is it?”
“These are keys,” her voice contains a lilt of judgement. “You’ve seen something like it before,” she explains, holding up the largest gold key from the center for him to examine.
Suddenly the shape looks more familiar, and he recalls pursuing sunken ships for treasure to sell her. Careening through dark rooms to open boxes with tiny keys that revealed lacy underclothing, among other highly profitable and unmentionable human secrets. Damian nods like he realized that all along, because of course he would.
“Its never this complicated. Normally it’s just one,” he attempts at defending himself.
“Well, these are house keys Dami. Where’d you even score something like this?” She questions. Nika was now swimming away to examine the numbers on the side of the key. She pressed the golden gift between her index and thumb while squinting like someone had drug her face to the sun.
“Father gave them to me.”
Her head snapped to the side.
“Oh? He gave you house keys?” A delicate eyebrow raises.
This meant nothing to Damian. Nika rolls her buggy eyes.
“Birdy-“
“Don’t call me that,” he said.
He didn’t like being called something he’d never even seen, no matter how much she insisted he looked like one.
“…Damian. This on the side is his address, 224 Park Drive. If you were to go on land you’d be able to find the street and get through the lock on the door,” she clarified.
So the old man had left him with an open invitation to come ‘home’. The merman glowered.
“Well, it sucks for him that he was irresponsible enough to leave access to his home with someone who lives in the water,” he replied, voice taught.
Nika looked at him with uncharacteristically soft eyes. Christ couldn’t anyone just look at him normally?
Sensing the shift in his mood, she pressed the keys in his palm like an invitation. He wondered if she wanted to keep them; if she’d ask for them so she could use Death’s magic to walk on land and rob his father blind. Another part of him says she wouldn’t have given the keys back if that were true. Give her some trust.
Trust is for weaklings. The longer Mother is away the worse you get, you need her here. To protect you, to teach you, you guide you. Mommy wants to help, she’s just gone. Don’t let this girl taint your cold blooded assassin skills that Grandfather worked so hard to hone.
Damian scratches his tail and his gills bleed.
“You’re good at reading human languages?” he asks instead.
When Damian speaks, his questions always feel more like statements. He knew that Nika could read and write well, but polite society determined it was creepy to just tell someone something about themselves that you’ve observed. So instead he asks.
“I speak four”, she says, rummaging through her things to keep busy.
He pulled out In-u-Ya-Sha.
“Teach me to read this?” He asks. Once again, more a demand than a question.
She floats over and takes the small book from his hands before sitting beside him.
“Oh, this one? Damn I read this years ago,”.
Damian shrinks a little from the embarrassment of his inexperience.
She wasn’t trying to rub it in. Nika just had an accidental habit of pressing emotional wounds with her thumb. She didn’t want to make Damian feel worse like she often did, she just wanted him to know that she was valuable. Maybe it was because so many people who were supposed to love her had decided she wasn’t.
Noticing the now thick and heady awkwardness in the air, she takes the comic from him and starts to read. Damian watches with wide eyes, carefully following her finger as she narrates the comic he’d been analyzing for ages.
Hours pass with them reading. They get through the first issue with Nika reading a few pages before returning the book to Damian and having him struggle through a few himself. He picks up quickly as she can translate, telling him what a few words mean and why.
“The cat is Kagome’s pet, humans keep them like Whales keep suckerfish on their belly.”
Damian nods with fascination, wondering what a pet could provide a human the way a sucker fish provided whales with clean bellies.
They finish the first story in its entirety and Damian’s eyes begin to close with the pages. He falls asleep on Nika’s floor while she opens a wooden compartment under her metal human-style bed frame. She searches for the second edition to the manga quietly, as Lord Death had banned her from keeping any in the house. She rummages before sighing a triumphant ‘hmph’ at the hidden volumes.
She turns around with the copies in hand, only to find Damian’s gills flexing softly in slumber. It dawns on her what a journey he’d made just to have her read to him. She feels a bit guilty, sure he was her technical ex-mate, but he was also probably her only friend.
She covers him in a sheet before settling on her own bed. Not many minutes later, the two friends both sleep softly through the night.
———
Damian wakes with a start, unsettled to find himself looking at the wrong roof. He blinks with an immense disorientation before realizing what had happened. He sighs, falling back to the floor. Thank gods he hadn’t had any kind of night terror in Nika’s home.
She floats in, holding a small brown bag.
“Ah, morning. I didn’t want to wake you up too soon,” she says.
He nods while rubbing gunk from his eyes.
Shit. He was supposed to meet that boy today.
“I have to go, a human boy is waiting for me,” he slurs, rushing to shove his things in his bag and retie it around his waist.
“A human boy?” Nika says with confusion and amusement in her eyes.
“Yes, don’t ask.”
Damian begins to rapidly make his way to the door (or at least his swims as fast as he can with all the water density in the deep holding him down) while Nika follows. He’s halfway out the door before she yanks his tail. He turns around full of indignation.
“Hey dumb-dumb, take this before you go,” she says.
He takes a small brown package from her hand, pulling back the cloth to reveal seaweed cakes full of whale and squid. Breakfast.
“Goodbye Nika.”
“You’re welcome, Birdy.”
He allows it this time.
——
He swims for hours once more, hitching a whale-ride for less time to try and muscle his way back faster.
At any moment Jon could arrive at the cave, see Damian isn’t there, and head home, thus canceling out all plausibility of becoming the merman’s food recoverer. This thought creates immense stress in the merman. He swims a little faster.
The moons blue light shines through the water as he nears the cave. He bites his lip realizing Jon definitely wasn’t there. He waits, skimming his tail along the water in hopes of the boy coming by. Damian holds onto the optimistic idea that his waffling around didn’t make him miss a good opportunity.
Nika’s sandwiches practically disappear as stress makes’ Damian’s stomach rumble. He selfishly wishes she’d packed more, and then promptly feels ashamed for wishing so.
He’s adjusting his bracelets for the fifth time when Jon barges into the cave with booming footsteps. His dark hair is a disheveled pile on the top of his head. He has no top covering his torso, exposing the sweaty pink sheen of his golden summer skin. He had no shoes, and his bag’s straps were held in a carless fist at his side rather than on his shoulder. Damian curiously watches his chest rise and fall raggedly as he runs in.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, my grandparents were asking where I was going, and then I had to lie, and they didn’t believe me so I had to go to dinner with them and wait until they were asleep, and they’re old so-“
Oh thank god! Jon was the one who was late.
Damian loves maintaining the upper hand. He leans back, examining non existent dirt under his still chipped nails.
“Been waiting,” he lies.
Jon falters, adjusting his glasses and dropping to his knees at the cave’s edge.
“I’m sorry,” his eyes are light with something sweet and saccharine. “It’s so cool to see you again, I almost thought I was crazy and dreamt you up,” he laughs.
‘Oh god he’s still talking, but it’s not about the food’ Damian thinks.
Jon leans toward him, just looking. The merman doesn’t know what to make of it, and doesn’t like the weird churning it makes in his stomach. He must still be hungry. He reaches to Jon’s side and grabs at the bag lying there to rummage through it.
“Wha- hey! You can’t keep doing that!”
Damian grins like a cherub and opens a bag with a sanded witch, devouring the now familiar food in three large bites.
“Please never eat like that in front of me again,” Jon says with a scrunched face.
Ok,” Damian says, grabbing another Sanded witch and downing this one in two.
“You have to know that’s not what I meant,” the human deadpans.
The merman shrugs, continuing to rummage through the other boy’s things. He makes a displeased noise at the realization that he’d eaten everything Jon had packed. His stomach churns.
He looks up at the boy on the ledge and clicks, only to receive a confused face in return. The merman slaps the bag on the ground next to his companion and shakes it.
“More?” He asks with a strained voice.
Jon looks at him up and down.
“Do you not…eat very often?”
He paused, thinking. He ate when he could hunt, and he didn’t like to eat what could be hunted. He didn’t want to eat raw squid or tuna. It made him feel bad and he didn’t like the way in squished around all warm in his mouth. If he wanted to eat something cooked near volcanic waters, or fresh vegetables from different islands, he needed money, which he’d long run out of.
So for multiple reasons, he hadn’t been eating much at all. He nods solemnly while rubbing at the thin space between his skin and his ribs.
He expects a look of pity, a softness that both Nika and his father give regularly. Instead Jon’s face remains the same. He looks at the merman like an equal, rather than a pathetic child.
Suddenly the other boy’s face seems (slightly, very slightly) less annoying to Damian.
“Alright, so you want me to bring you more when I see you,” he says.
Wow. That took way less work than he’d assumed it would.
“Yes! You would bring? For free?” Damian is astonished. His mother would laugh at the stupidity of this boy.
“I mean yeah, it wouldn’t take much for me to get it,” Jon replies.
“Oh! You are good hunter?” Damian asks. It would make sense, considering he could swim in air.
“Huh? No I’ve never been hunting at all,” Jon laughs, “My grandparents buy the food. Sometimes I go along for the shopping I guess, but it’s mostly free for me.”
Damian’s eyebrows raise, he swims in a circle and comes back around to rest his elbows on the ledge next to the human.
“You just get? No hunt?”
He’s fascinated, leaning up towards the taller boy. Jon’s face reddens as he backs away to readjust his glasses.
“Yeah, I’m a teenager still so my family takes care of me.”
“Your grand-parent,” Damian supplies, pleased with his knowledge.
“Yeah! You have grandparents?”
Damian thinks, his father and mother were both very impressive individuals. His mother, an amazing huntress and valuable member of the shoal. She was definitely a grand parent. His father was a strong and intelligent enough human man to mate with her. He might as well be grand too.
“My parents grand,” Damian nods.
The human laughs, and suddenly that doesn’t feel like the right answer.
“No, no. Your grandparents are your parents-parents,” Jon says, still laughing.
Oh. Jad.
“Jad Rah” Damian answers, eyes misty with reflection. “Harsh. Loved me. I was take his place.”
A pride fills his chest at that fact, which he’s sure will impress Jon too.
Jon nods, “Yeah Grandpa Sam is pretty strict too. I can’t get away with anything around him.”
Damian nods vigorously, “In trouble, all the time.”
He briefly recalls the time that he wandered from the shoal on an assassination; he’d gotten lost in a deep cavern and nearly died by an aggressive orca. He reflexively puts his hand to his tail where he’d been spanked.
“Look at that, we have something in common!” Jon says, grinning.
Maybe being Jon’s friend wouldn’t be so bad. Not good, still very much beneath him, but not bad.
“Home with your Grand-parent?” His eyes are deeply serious.
“Uh, I’m staying with them. Temporarily. I sort of got in trouble,” he pauses, rubbing his arm even though there was no wound there. “I just got in a little bit though, so I’m staying away from home.”
Damian nods slowly at his human counterpart. He didn’t expect to have anything in common with this boy, it felt sort of nice to share the same history with someone else.
“I not home either,” he said.
“Well yeah, that makes sense. You’re all red, fish in this area are mostly blue and silver,” Jon says with a self satisfied grin.
Damian raises his eyebrows and nods, “Oh? I not see that.”
Did this human seriously think that he doesn’t know what color he is? He lives in the ocean. He knows other people around here are mostly silver.
“Well, after we met I did some research on red fish and found that the most common area with red tailed fish is the Indian Ocean, and those green markings are-“
Before he can finish, Jon is flying off the ledge and into the water. Damian has a tight grip on his ankles as he shoots downwards, shaking Jon like a piece of limp kelp. He garbled out shouts of protest that were lost in the forces of cold water, which were siding with the merman. This boy needed to learn to shut up, and Damian would teach him to do so. If he had any sense he’d understand the regal importance of his red Al Ghul Tail, he’d realize telling Damian the purpose of the delicate green markings on his skin was as needless to say as it was idiotic.
Only a few moments later the merman decides the boy had enough, leaving Jon to resurface. He floats up, with his head above water for only a moment before he starts running his mouth again.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you like this? I literally didn’t do anything-“
Good lord. Once again, Damian yanks his ankles and dunks him.
This time when they resurface Jon is quiet. Finally.
“You are annoying,” Damian chittered.
“Me? annoying? You just tried to drown me!” The human is flapping his arms in an attempt to talk with his hands while simultaneously swimming back to his safe and dry ledge.
“Because so annoying,” Damian replies, pushing down his grin. He crosses his arms smugly.
The human looks at him with his mouth pressed in a thin line.
“I thought you’d be more magical and nice, but you’re just a rude little guttersnipe,” Jon says, shaking water out of his black curls.
His voice does a weird lilt and twang when he speaks, if Damian weren’t mad he’d find it sounded pretty. However, the merman was mad so he wasn’t thinking anything in the realm of kind. Guttersnipe? What is with this guy? It’s hard to tell if he’s amusing or totally obnoxious.
“Guttersnipe,” Damian mocks, roaring with laughter as he propels himself in a giddy circle around the cave.
“Hey, I don’t have to deal with this. I can go home,” Jon says indignantly. He turns to grab his bag and stands like he plans to exit.
The merman’s stomach lurches with sudden anxiety. He didn’t want to be left alone, and he certainly didn’t want to lose the food access Jon provided. He wasn’t sure any other human would’ve kept his existence a secret. This had to be a test. The human seemed so excited to talk to someone earlier.
“No way. If with grandparent, you lonely.” He hopes he’s accurately calling the other boy’s bluff.
Jon’s face looks tight. So he was right, neither of them have friends. That didn’t really matter to Damian, who was a talented assassin that didn’t need friends, but that must be hard on Jon. He’s a weak human who needs companionship.
The curly haired boy makes his way back to the ledge he’d previously been sitting at.
“Ok, you’re right. I don’t have any friends and if we stopped hanging out I’d probably die of boredom. But if I’m gonna be giving you food and hanging around your fishy ass you’re not gonna mess with me like that! Beggars can’t be choosers,”.
Who does this human think he’s talking to? He’s got no friends either, he has no right telling Damian what to do. Still, the food was leverage that he couldn’t argue against.
“Fine,” Damian says with rolled eyes.
Jon nods.
“Good. I’m gonna run and get some snacks, because nearly being drowned by a certain someone and having all my food eaten by him has made me hungry.” Jon turns on his heel and heads out, leaving Damian alone.
He’s pretty sure that the human meant he’d be coming back. In the meantime, he grabbed the second issue of ‘Inuyasha’ that Nika had put in his bag.
The wet pages felt much more fragile on the ledge than they had underwater. Their texture had felt more rough in their ocean tomb, now they felt slimy and delicate. He picked each paper up delicately as he struggled through the words. It was coming to him faster now, but he was still taking far longer to finish one page than Nika or Father ever did.
Kagome obviously liked Inuyasha, why couldn’t he tell? Damian bit his thumb as Inuyasha once again put on a stone face to push away someone who clearly wanted to help him. He could get the jewel of power with Kagome’s help if he’d just open up. The mean guard he was putting up only kept him from getting with the one person willing to put up with his bullshit. Damian paused. One word in particular was tripping him up. It was that kind of trip up that happens when not knowing a word impacts the whole page, because otherwise you don’t have the right context.
P-r-i-e-s-t-e-s-s. Priestess. He tried sounding it out.
“What are you doing?” Jon exclaimed, dropping his bag down in front of Damian’s perch.
The merman squealed, hopping off his elbows and back into the water. How embarrassing. Damian hid underwater trying to decide what to do, because he did not want to admit to what he was up to.he didn’t need that pesky boy thinking he was stupid. After a moment of deliberation he decided he’d just pretend that the other boy was crazy and deny any knowledge of said romance novel.
Shit!
He left the book on the ledge. There was no denying that he was not only reading that, but struggling to do so. The merman floated up shamefully to find Jon holding the book himself.
“You read manga?” Jon asked, smiling.
He looked up at the boy with wide eyes, nodding slightly.
“Man, I love stuff like this!” He says, examining the cover. “Well, maybe not this one specifically. Romance stuff isn’t my jam but I like older ones. Have you ever read One Piece or Dragon Ball?”
He shakes his head. Jon opens his mouth and widens his eyes dramatically.
“Oh my god. Those are my favorites,” he takes a seat.
He pulls out a rectangular box and starts pressing his fingers on it, before turning it around to show it’s projecting the image of another book drawn similarly to the one Damian is holding. A boy in a red shirt and hat is at the front of a pirate ship, the title reads ‘One Piece’ just like Jon had said.
“I usually just read it on my phone, I’m actually a couple chapters behind because I started on HunterxHunter,” Jon is animated as he scrolls through different images of manga on his ‘phone’.
Damian was listening, or at least pretending to. This was a lot of things at once. He’d never seen anything like a phone before, and as far as he knew the only manga that existed were the ones Nika had in her room. Now he was being presented with thousands at Jon’s fingertips.
“That is a lot,” he whispers, chewing at the webbed skin on his hand.
Suddenly he’s being pierced with blue eye contact, the phone is put away.
“Sorry, that was probably a lot, huh?” Jon scratches the back of his head and smiles all crooked.
The merman nods and looks down at his book. It felt like there was so much about the world he knew nothing of, and every day this became more and more true. He was never done learning about humans. More answers made more questions. The more English he learned the more he needed to be able to say.
Maybe this access to Jon could provide him the answers he craved; the ones that father wouldn’t give without expecting something in return. There was a certain earnestness in Jon’s eyes that made Damian uncomfortable. He was so willing and ready to help with very little in return. What was wrong with him?
Then the human looks at him, all soft eyed and angelic. Something deep in Damian’s chest that he’d put steel barriers around years ago, feels panged. He’d felt this when he met the warm seevent Alfred, and the first time Father had called him son. He’d felt it when mother held him. For a moment he considers that maybe there really was nothing wrong with this boy, and everything wrong with him.
He shakes his head, disturbed by the thought and its implication. He flattens his palms along the rocks. Jon looks around the cave awkwardly.
“So uh, do you have to be anywhere? It’s getting late. Is there a mermaid curfew?” Jon asks, his voice wheezes awkwardly when he speaks. He leans back on his elbows and looks out at the water with his eyebrows raised, biting his lip; an attempt to look cool that was going to go over Damian’s head.
“Cur-few?”
“Oh. Uh…like when you have to be home for your parents.”
A familiar hollowness fills his chest, like he’d taken water in through his nose and filled up his lungs. “No parents at home,” he whispers it so low that he’s not sure Jon would even pick it up.
“Oh I’m so sorry. Did they die?” He asks, voice gentle.
Damian’s head turns, half offended and half distraught. “No. Just lost!”
Jon makes a face that seems like pity. “Oh, yeah?” He says.
The merman falters making eye contact with the other man, “yes, asshole. They coming back.” His face contorts as anger rises to the surface of his skin like lava, slowly overtaking him. “You don’t know. Know nothing about me, Clasper. No family with you either.”
Jon looks hurt at this, stepping back. His eyes shift to the side as a frown tugs the corners of his lips down. “I’m leaving. I don’t have to put up with you talking to me like this,”.
That was strange because everyone in his life had always put up with it. Jon’s defiance was opposite anything Damian had ever experienced. The people of his shoal had to deal with these tantrums because he was the heir to Ra’s Al Ghul, fiercest clan leader in the seven seas. If Damian was being a bully it was tolerated, if not encouraged by his borderline psychotic mother. The merman leaned over the ledge of rocks on his elbows, expecting the boy to turn around and sit where he’d been previously. Instead the other boy, sensing the merman truly wouldn’t apologize, turns out of the cave and actually leaves.
Damian sinks back into the water, turning once again towards his tiny wrecked ship to wait.