Chapter Text
"Luna! Get your ass in the water, let’s go!” Kerry called from his position in the water, beckoning his friend forward with flailing arms.
“I’m coming,” was the muffled response. Miles was buried in the van they’d driven to the beach, upper half squeezed inside as he riffled through a duffle bag, lower half sticking out and dancing to whatever song was stuck in his head. The tight wetsuit that hugged his body squeaked as he slid out and slammed the door shut.
Miles’ bright orange surfboard clattered to the ground from the force of the door closing. Not paying attention, the man tripped and tumbled into the sand, muttering an assortment of curses as he stared at the sky. Scrambling to his feet, Miles picked up his board and jogged towards the water where his friends were already paddling out in search of the waves.
“You motherfucker,” Miles yelled as he threw his board in the water and paddled closer to Kerry, “You ate my twizzlers!”
“How do you know it was me?” Kerry asked innocently as he watched his friend approach.
“Because,” Miles panted from the exertion of paddling out so quickly. “Anyone else would have left me one, you’re an asshole and ate them all.”
Kerry laughed as Miles came up beside him, straddling his board for balance. Kerry was so distracted that Miles was able to hook a foot under the other’s blue board and flip the shorter man into the water.
He emerged spluttering and wiping salt water from his eyes while it was Miles’ turn to laugh at his friend.
“Ha ha,” Kerry muttered, pulling himself back on the board and pushing at Miles’ shoulder, “very funny.”
“You deserved it you twizzler eating traitor!” Miles exclaimed, splashing at Kerry as he settled on the board. The two splashed and pushed at each other for a few more minutes before calling a truce and looking for the rest of their friends.
By the time they stopped fucking around, Kyle was trying to catch his first wave while Brandon and Chris perched on their boards and gossiped.
“Come on Guys,” Miles called out to them, drawing their attention. “Let’s catch some good ones and then set up camp!”
The boys were on their annual surfing trip which had been a tradition with them for years. They started coming to the secret beach in high school and continued on through college; after all, they were about to start their junior years and needed this week to unwind before school stress. They would drive to the beach on a Friday and spend the whole week surfing the great waves and camping on the beach before leaving the following Saturday. They would always spend at least one night trying to catch fish, and the rest of the time taking turns driving to the closest grocery store for food when that inevitably failed.
The weather forecast proclaimed clear skies for the trip and the guys were excited, ready to set campfires and drink by the ocean while ignoring their real life responsibilities.
The guys all cheered at Miles’ shout and focused on the rolling of the waves they were looking to catch. They surfed for hours until the sun started to dip towards the horizon and they decided to set up camp before it got too dark.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
They pitched their tents in a circle, facing in towards their makeshift fire pit which had some driftwood logs set up for seating. Miles was gainfully employed that summer and had sprung for a new tent this year so he could finally have one all to himself. The previous years he’d been sharing with Kerry and, as much as he loved the guy, a week without snoring was going to be fantastic.
With Miles claiming his own tent the others were left to pick tent mates. Brandon and Chris ended up calling dibs on the large green tent which could easily fit another person or two while Kerry and Kyle got the ancient blue tent they’d scavenged from someone’s basement and probably belonged to a great-grandparent, it certainly smelled like it.
Sleeping arrangements set, the boys gathered around the fire to roast hot dogs and drink through a couple six-packs.
“I still don’t know why you won’t let me sleep with you,” Kerry mumbled through a mouthful of hot dog. “It’s practically tradition at this point.” Chris drunkenly snorted immaturely at Kerry’s wording and fell in a graceless heap against Kyle’s shoulder.
“Dude,” Miles said while focusing on the hot dog he was attempting to cook without burning it too badly, “As much fun as we have, surfing without being sleep deprived is going to be so much better.”
Kerry grinned at his friend and slung an arm around Miles’ shoulder, jostling him into dropping the weenie into the flames. “That’s why you should let me have the single tent, you could save everyone else from exhaustion and be the hero.”
Miles was too busy yelping and trying to salvage his hot dog to respond, but he did shoot a glare at Kerry over the ash covered remains of his food.
“Dude, the waves are really picking up,” Brandon was perched on a log facing the water and was watching the waves crash on the shore. “Late night boarding anyone?”
Kyle shook his head and gave a meaningful look at Chris who was nearly unconscious at this point and clearly found Kyle’s shoulder to be the perfect pillow. “I should probably get this one to bed, make sure he’s alright and everything.”
“I’m in!” Miles hopped to his feet and shook off the sand that collected on his clothes, smacking Kerry on the head as he walked by. “Get your suit on Shawcross, you’re coming with.”
“But I’m tired,” Kerry whined at Miles’ retreating back.
The only response he got was the silhouette of a middle finger and Miles faintly calling out “Too bad!”
Brandon laughed and smacked Kerry on the back as he got up to get changed and grab his board, yelling out “Last one in the water gets flipped!”
The three friends got ready in record time and plunged into the water, yelping and shouting about the cold. Despite being the first to leave the fire, Miles was the last one in the water and had to fend off Brandon and Kerry who were trying to flip him while staying balanced on their own boards.
The ocean started churning and the waves grew larger and larger, making the surfing conditions near perfect. They were so caught up in the great waves that they disregarded the evident signs of an impending, and unexpected, storm.
Miles was just starting to paddle in when a particularly strong wave tossed him from his board. The last thing he heard were Kerry and Brandon’s voices calling his name before he was plunged under the water.
The vicious waves were buffeting Miles’ body around as he struggled to reach the surface. His board, which had been strapped to his leg, came loose and struck him on the head as the waves tossed it towards the shore. Unconsciousness claimed him fairly quickly after that.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Miles woke suddenly to his body violently coughing water from his lungs and sucking in greedy breaths of air. He rolled on his side and continued expelling the salt water which he had swallowed. Miles tried to take stock of his surroundings and realized he was lying partially submerged in a pool of water, but on a sandy surface in a small cavern which protected him from the raging storm outside. A gasp from his other side caused him to turn and see who it was that rescued him.
In front of him was another man with his curious gaze trained on Miles. Miles looked at him, equally curious as to who exactly could have saved him from that storm.
The man had a smattering of freckles across his smooth cheeks and hair that was damply plastered to his head. Miles took a moment to appreciate the toned muscles of the man’s chest and arms before his mind came to a screeching halt. The man had no legs. He didn’t end at the torso but instead of legs, Miles’ savior had a fish tail made out of deep green scales which was partially submerged in the water.
Miles passed out again.
This time when Miles came to, the man was crouched further over him and Miles had to cross his eyes to look the man in the face.
“Um,” Miles eloquently squeaked. “Who are you?”
The fact that Miles was awake and talking seemed to both frighten and excite the other man. He quickly retreated into the water until only his eyes were peaking over the water’s surface and his hair fanned out around him.
Miles cleared his throat awkwardly and put a hand to his chest. “I’m Miles,” he said slowly, trying to communicate with his gesture what he meant. “Who are you?” he motioned frantically towards the other man, waving his arm and pointing between his own chest and the fish man in the water.
Speaking of fish men, the guy rolled his eyes and, clearly judging Miles to be no threat, pulled himself back onto the shore. “Stop talking like that,” the man complained. “I’m not stupid, also, you sound like an idiot.”
Miles scoffed and drew back in an exaggerated display of indignation. “Well excuse me, how am I supposed to know the fish person can speak English? Especially when said person refuses to answer a simple question.” Another eye roll was the only response Miles got.
The man assessed him, giving Miles a cursory once over. Miles could only imagine he didn’t look good seeing as he nearly drowned a few minutes ago and was covered in sand. Finally the stranger answered, “Michael.”
“Well Michael, it’s nice to meet you,” Miles said cheerfully, extending his arm to the other. “Thanks for saving my life.”
Michael let Miles’ hand stay outstretched until the man gave up and dropped it back to the sand. “Saving you was no problem. I felt bad. I’ve been watching you swim decently all day and I didn’t want you to go out like a bitch.”
Miles screwed his face up at the man’s words. “What do you mean you’ve been watching me all day? Do you make a habit of creeping on surfers? How did I not notice you?”
Michael let the man ask his questions. “First of all asshole, you came into my house and started kicking around. I have every right to watch the people disturbing the sea. Secondly, I’m good at only being seen when I want to be and I was watching you from under the water so you wouldn’t have noticed me anyway. Why do you have such a fucking obnoxious colored board?”
“Orange is a great color! Don’t hate on the orange.” Miles pushed at Michael’s shoulder, feeling strangely at ease with the foul mouthed mer-man. Taking the moment to observe Michael more closely, Miles could see that the emerald of the man’s scales was mimicked in a series of tattoos that trailed around his arms.
Sitting in the damp alcove was getting to Miles and his skin was chaffing under the wetsuit. He started to peel it off his arms and upper body until Michael started splashing around and shouting at him with wide, frightened eyes.
“What are you doing?” Michael exclaimed, clutching at the part of the suit Miles had managed to strip from his body. “Don’t take off your skin you moron! I didn’t save you just to let you kill yourself.”
Miles paused, shocked at the others’ outburst, before he started laughing. He doubled over in an attempt to contain the chuckles bursting from his chest, and to avoid seeing Michael’s outraged and anxious face which would surely trigger another bout of laughter.
“This isn’t my skin,” He gasped between breaths once he was mildly under control. “This is my wet suit, it’s what humans wear while surfing.”
Tilting his head to the side in confusion, Michael picked at the leg of the suit still in the water plastered to Miles’ body. “Why do you wear anything in the water? I’d think it’d be more comfortable not to?”
Miles blushed at the honest curiosity and mumbled a response about protection and safety.
“I need no protection in these waters,” Michael boasted to the human. “Nothing can harm me here.”
“Yeah about that,” Miles rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to make sense of the man in front of him. “How exactly do you exist?”
Michael tilted his head at Miles’ words, “What the fuck do you mean how do I exist? How do you exist, how does anyone exist? We just do.”
“No I mean, I just thought mer-men were legends. Myths. You know, not real.” Miles stuttered anxiously.
“Just because you don’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not there.” Michael angrily huffed, face growing red with his anger. “You humans think you’re the greatest thing on this planet but you’re not. You assholes fuck with the waters I live in and then have the nerve to ask me how I exist! Fuck you.”
Miles scrambled to calm Michael down before he could swim away and ditch Miles in a random cave, “I didn’t mean to offend you dude! It’s just, the stories about your people that get told are generally aimed at kids. No one believes after they grow up.”
His words seemed to calm Michael down, and the man relaxed into the sand. “Fine,” he said curtly, “but don’t say anymore stupid shit like that.” A toothy grin broke out across Miles’ face and he smiled at the angry man until he broke down and smiled hesitantly back.
“Alright alright,” Miles conceded, “No more stupid shit, but can I ask you questions about yourself without you getting all aggressive again?”
Michael crossed his arms and scowled, “I’m not aggressive.” Miles gave him a look until he deflated, “Sorry, I’m working on the anger thing.”
Miles laughed and patted him on the back reassuringly. “How about we trade questions and answers,” Miles proposed. “You can start.”
The two passed the next few hours trading stories and information about each other. Miles learned that he was younger than Michael, although he looked older. He also listened as Michael wove fantastic tales about his adventures under the sea and how Miles was the first human Michael had actually met.
Interestingly enough, Michael learnt his English from listening to the people who managed to find the semi-secluded beach that Miles and his friends were camped on. It was mostly teens and early 20-somethings who found their way there, and that’s where Michael picked up such foul language.
By the time the storm ended the men were laughing and joking like old friends, despite their rocky start. When Michael pointed out the calm weather, Miles found himself saddened by the fact he had to return to his friends.
Michael held Miles’ hand as he led him through the underwater passages that funneled into the cave they had taken shelter in and swam with him until they were close to shore. Miles could see the campsite and the assorted debris that was strewn about from the storm. His surfboard was carefully stacked with the others and clearly his friends were expecting him back, hopefully they had looked for him or at least been a little concerned by his disappearance.
“We’ll be here the whole week.” Miles said before Michael could leave. “Would you want to meet up again? I know you don’t interact with humans very often and I’m not the most interesting of my species but I really enjoyed talking with you and hanging out and maybe we could have some fun when we’re not both trapped by a storm.”
When Miles stopped to breathe Michael cut in before he could start rambling again.
“I’d like that,” Michael said with a smile. “Meet me in the water tomorrow when your friends are asleep.”
Miles smiled and nodded enthusiastically, turning to glance quickly at the camp and make sure none of his friends were up yet. When he looked back at Michael the mer-man was gone, leaving behind no evidence he had ever been there.