Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy officially hates water planets. From the humid air to uncertain seas, everything about them is simply awful.

Their ship had taken on another long delivery mission to a water planet far from the inner worlds. Some fancy place that other species couldn’t live on due to how hostile the creatures under the waves were and how big they’d need to be to survive it. Not that Tommy cared all that much, he didn’t want to live on some drowned planet. That’s for damn sure.

Except now he is, for a few months at least.

Their ship had refused to run once they delivered their package to one of the giant fucking mermaids that call this planet home. Huge fuckers who’d have to whisper when you talk to them so they don’t blow your eardrums out.

Admittedly, they are kinda cool. They look like the mermaids from old human stories. But instead of just a pretty tail, they have ear-fins and large sails down their backs, scales on the corner of their cheeks, and more fins down the sides of their arms and two big ones on each side of their tail. That isn’t even mentioning the horns, Tommy had thought they were crowns of bone at first, but the bastards have actual horns. They're more like sea dragon mermaids than fish mermaids.

But still, that isn’t the point. The point is that their ship refuses to get back into the air and now they're stuck on one of these damn shipping docks for who knows how long.

“This is the fucking worst,” Tommy complains loudly, hiding his face in one of his pillows and biting down the urge to scream. “It’s so fucking boring here! I mean, why couldn’t they at least make the docks more interesting?!”

From the doorway of his cabin, Puffy, the ship's captain, laughs.

“This is a working dock, Tommy.” She says. “No one comes here for anything interesting, we just drop off packages and leave. At least it’s nicer than some of the other post stations we’ve been to.”

Tommy huffs, lifting his head from his pillow to glare, not pout, at his captain. Her curled horns are slightly smudged with oil and dirt, and her equally curly white hair is so dirty it looks more gray than white. No doubt from trying to figure out what's wrong with their ship.

Still, he didn’t care about it being a working station. They're stuck on a planet made entirely out of water and he has nothing to do! That has to be some sort of torture, he’s sure of it.

“Can I at least help with fixing the ship? None of you let me touch anything! I’ve been sitting in my room for two days now!” Tommy groans, flopping face-first back into his pillow loudly.

He can hear Puffy sigh from the doorway, her hooves echoing from the metal floor of the ship as she steps closer, pausing at the side of Tommy’s bed. He can feel the slight dip when she sits down on the edge, but Tommy ignores it.

“You know it’s too dangerous for you, Tommy.” She reminds him gently. “You’re human, your kind is far too fragile to be working on the ship without protective gear and we don’t have that for you.”

Tommy glares into the darkness of his pillow, lips twisting harshly. It’s not that he even wants to work on fixing the ship, but there’s nothing else for him to do here and it seemed like the most interesting thing on this stupid blue planet.

“But,” Puffy says almost reluctantly, a sigh spilling from her mouth. “I suppose you could go explore the dock for a little while. But- but—”

She cuts in when Tommy whips his head up from his bed, excitement dancing in his chest and eyes practically sparkling with glee. Still, her pausing words do nothing to dampen his spirits.

“You have to come back before the end of the day, and try not to get into too much trouble, please. Wear your cloak and put on your face paint too.”

Immediately Tommy groans in dismay. “Seriously? I doubt the mermaid fuckers even know what a human is!”

“It’s not just them, Tommy.” Puffy scolds. “There are other ships here with people that do know what humans are. It’s better to be safe than sorry, alright?”

“Fine.” Tommy sighs, slipping from his bed with less enthusiasm than before while Puffy also stands with him. Still, it's better than sitting in his room all day and Tommy wasn’t going to let it dampen his mood.

“I can help you with it if you’d like.” Puffy offers and Tommy glances up thoughtfully, having to tilt his head to properly meet her gaze.

As a ra’am, Puffy is far taller than him, which is annoying, but useful for a captain.

“No, I got it.” He says instead, shaking his head as he pulls his cloak from the hook at the side of his bed.

It's more of a short, shoulder cape that goes down to just past his biceps, paired together with a hood, rather than a proper cloak. He still needs to move freely after all, but it's good enough to keep people from seeing his notably human features.

“Alright,” Puffy nods, stepping out to leave before she pauses at the doorway. “And make sure not to fall into the water, that makeup isn’t waterproof.”

Immediately Tommy scowls, remembering the last time he’d done that, and proceeded to have streaks of pinkish-purple face paint running down his cheeks.

“I know,” Tommy grumbles, rummaging through the drawer of his side table to look for the said tube of makeup.

“Okay, okay, have fun out there, kid. Remember not to get in too much trouble.” Puffy laughs as she leaves, likely going back to dealing with the ship repairs.

Tommy huffs and rolls his eyes, stepping away from his side table and moving towards the small, circular mirror that hangs on the same wall that the door is connected to. It’s a tiny thing, barely bigger than his head and certainly not enough to see Tommy’s entire body, but it's enough to see his face with and that’s all that really matters.

Pulling the cap of makeup off with his teeth, Tommy squeezes some of the face paint off onto his finger. It’s barely a dot, but it’s enough for what he needs.

Thankfully, avians are the species closest to humans in terms of looks. They're similar in height and facial structure, though some have pointed ears, others also have rounded ears like humans. The only big difference is the colored markings on their face, fancy lines under their eyes, and feather-like smears of colors on their cheekbones.

It's easy to replicate, especially after having so much practice, and once Tommy was happy with his look, he smears the rest of the paint off his fingers using an old rag and spit out the cap from his mouth, closing the tube and haphazardly tossing it back into the drawer.

Being a human is hard, and not just because they’re a fairly fragile species.

Genetically blank, is what Tommy had been told his whole life. That’s what humans are.

A species that could quite literally adapt into becoming anything, any species at all. And with the scientific advancements, many were stolen away to become a part of a dying race or something of the like.

Though, admittedly, it isn’t like humans are in short supply, and stolen isn’t exactly what happens. There are more than a few planets made up almost entirely of humans, and Tommy knows more than a few who were happy to become something else. Something less fragile and weak in a space full of species that could easily squash them like bugs.

The orphanage Tommy had run from was well known for turning abandoned human children into something else, sending them off to families who’d pay millions when there were no children of their own species to adopt.

It still made the blonde’s nose wrinkle in disgust, more than a little thankful that he managed to get away before he was turned into something else. 

He likes being human, thank you very much.

The last he heard, the orphanage already had some family lined up. A rich one too. They were dreamons. Or something like that.

He's pretty sure that place is running illegally, anyway. At least, that's what Puffy told him. Apparently the whole 'selling children to desperate families for millions' is actually trafficking. He's not really sure what happened to it, but he assumes Puffy did something. She looked pissed for days until one afternoon she'd been in a good mood and hadn't stopped for a week.

It wasn’t like anyone could just steal a human and turn them into a new species, though. Of course not, there are still rules and procedures and forms before the process could even be started. But this is space and there are millions of planets one could hide on, losing one random child, human or not, when there are planets full of them in the inner worlds isn’t a big deal in the long run.

Still, it isn’t a problem that Tommy has to worry about now with his new paint job done, and he takes one last glance in the mirror as he puffed his chest out proudly.

It looks good, but that isn’t important now.

Almost instantly, Tommy is bounding out of his room and down the hall. Practically bolting down the ramp of the ship and out of the hangar they’d been stuck in for days now.

He can hear Puffy shout something out to him, but he doesn’t pay it any mind and almost cheers once he’s past the hangar doors.

Tommy hasn’t seen much of the dock, but it’s an amazing dome-like structure that stretches far, far into the sky. Big enough to house some of the largest shipping vessels out there. The roof is even made out of clear glass so the sun can light the open area with soft rays. Everything is some shade of blue, the pillars and tiles of the floor carved delicately with odd symbols and images. There are even weird cylindrical tanks filled with some kind of aquatic plants. Swaying gently in some sort of artificial current.

Most of the floor is a mix of metal, specifically in the hangars, and glass, in the open areas, too. Letting people up top see the massive fish and fucking mermaids swim under their feet. It's cool and there are even plush benches to sit on. Which is a bit strange, since this place works as a sort of post office, but Tommy isn’t complaining.

Still, that isn’t even the most interesting part. It's the pickup stations that are really cool and Tommy takes the moment to slip into an empty one once he has the chance.

Puffy had described them to him when she was delivering their package, but the way she talked about them didn’t do the giant rooms much justice.

The pickup stations are like giant, enclosed marinas with floors made entirely of glass and massive pools for the equally massive mermaids to swim up and get their items. Here, though, the roof isn't made of glass and instead, it's dense metal. The only lights that illuminates the room are on the floor or the bottom of the walls, making everything a bit ominous and reflecting the glowing blue of rippling water.

There are even more big water tubes along the circular wall, ones that reach up to the roof, and are also filled with plants and small scenes of the ocean floor below.

It's fucking cool.

Tommy wasn’t allowed inside when Puffy and the rest of the crew were handing over their deliveries, but since this one is empty, he doesn’t have to worry about it at all!

Though, admittedly, the pickup station is a bit intimidating. Tommy can’t help but wonder how big those fucking mermaids can get. He hasn’t seen one up close, just the one that passed under the main part of the dock when he’d peeked outside of their hanger.

Puffy was the one to tell him that they have to whisper so they wouldn’t burst people’s eardrums.

Tommy spares a glance outside of the room for a second, just to make sure no one else is entering, before practically skipping over to one of the fancy plush benches against the wall. He all but throws himself onto it, falling back into the soft pillows that are surely softer than his actual bed.

Still, Tommy turns his head to the side so he can watch the ocean below, almost mesmerized by the fish swimming right under the glass.

It’s kinda scary, though.

The ocean is so deep that Tommy can’t see the bottom of it, and apparently, this is supposed to be the shallowest part of the area. But all he can see is the steadily darkening tone of blue, no rocks or color or even water plants.

It’s like looking into an abyss, endless and watching.

Literally, it is quite literally watching him.

There’s a massive fish just below where Tommy has partially let himself hang off of the bench. Hovering just under where his hand touches the glass.

Tommy is sure that it’s the same size as him, probably bigger, but it sure is a dumb-looking thing. Blank eyes and a thin, but long, body with weirdly flowy tendril-like fins. It's a pretty ugly color too. A dull gray with a near-white underbelly, like the sharks from Earth. Thankfully, Tommy can’t see any teeth in its mouth, so maybe it's just curious of him like he is of it and isn’t tempted to eat him.

Tommy slips from the bench carefully, landing on his hands and knees before slowly getting up and walking along the glass, being careful not to get too close to the pool.

The ugly fish follows him slowly, not quite keeping up but not falling behind either.

Tommy grins brightly, almost giddy as he speeds up into a skip, watching as the fish gets faster to keep up.

Maybe they're like the dogs of this world.

Though they’d be pretty ugly dogs if he were being honest.

Eventually, Tommy stops and crouches down, resting his hands and knees against the glass to get a better look at the fish.

It's still staring blankly at him, vacant eyes not even following Tommy’s fingers when he wiggles them off to the side. It makes him giggle quietly, he’ll have to show it to Puffy later. She’d definitely have a laugh over the dumb thing.

However, the fish seems to startle suddenly, its whole body jerking back before it swims off in a hurry.

Tommy frowns, a bit disappointed that he couldn’t show it to Puffy now, but maybe it’ll come back.

“You probably shouldn’t mess with that fish, it’ll drag you into the water the first chance it gets.” A soft but loud voice whispers from behind him.

“Fuck!”

Tommy whips around with a gasp, eyes wide with horror as he scrambles back on his hands and the heels of his feet until his back is pressed against the front of the bench. His heart races in his chest, pounding so loudly in his chest that Tommy is sure it can be heard echoing in the pickup station.

Lazying partially out of the pool is a massive fucking mermaid alien, Tommy is barely the size of his fucking forearm, with his arms crossed over each other as he hangs off the edge of the marina-like opening. His chin is rested on his arms, head tilted curiously to the side and jewelry pierced ear-fins lowered calmly.

His hair is curly from what Tommy could tell, winding around three sets of opalescent horns that grow upwards and curve back into slight arrow-shaped edges, like a crown with the color and shimmer of white pearls. It matches eerily well with his bright golden eyes and the space blue of his scales.

Quickly, Tommy shakes his head with a cough, willing his racing heart to calm while he picks his jaw off the ground.

“I- what?” He wheezes, realizing that the alien mermaid has been talking to him.

Tommy isn’t sure how he didn’t notice before, considering the fucker is loud even when he's whispering, but at least he has enough consideration to repeat himself.

“I said I’m sorry for scaring you, I didn’t mean to.” The mermaid says sheepishly.

“I was not scared.” Tommy cuts in with a scowl, but the fucking alien only sends him an amused look, tilting his head a bit more until his cheek rested on his arm too.

“Uh-huh.” He says, unbelievingly, and Tommy opens his mouth to give the dickhead a piece of his mind, but the mermaid beats him to it.

“Anyways, I’m here to pick up a package. Are you my deliverer?”

“Oh, no, I’m not.” Tommy shakes his head. “I was just bored and wanted something to do since our ship broke down.”

The mermaid seems to deflate with a sigh, closing his eyes in what seems like dismay, and Tommy takes a minute to peer down, noting the fuckers massive tail slowly swishing in the water below the glass.

When he glances back up, Tommy notes the putout look on the alien's face and feels, maybe, just a tiny bit bad for him.

“Do you know when your shipment was supposed to come in?” He asks tentatively, finally shifting to sit up with his back properly propped up against the seat of the bench. “I can ask around for you.”

The mermaid croons an odd sound, Tommy doesn’t recognize it, but it reminds him, annoyingly, of when old ladies would coo over how ‘cute’ he is.

That better not be what it fucking means.

“I’ve been coming by for two days now, and it still hasn’t shown up.” The alien sighs again. “It likely hasn’t reached planet side yet.”

“Oh,” Tommy says lamely.

The mermaid seems to think for a minute, brows scrunched curiously as he stares off into space for just a few seconds.

“Is it alright if I wait around for a bit?” He suddenly asks. “I usually like to wait around for a few hours to see if my package comes in and I don’t accidentally miss it.”

“Oh, yeah of course.” Tommy sputters, surprised that the alien is even asking. Tommy isn’t a worker here, after all, he already told the guy that he’s just some stranded delivery crew. “I can leave, if you’d like?”

“Nah man, it’s fine.” The mermaid waves the idea off. “Some company would be fun if you’re up for it, though.”

Tommy blinks, a bit caught off guard before he grins. He’s got nothing better to do anyway, and he’s disguised so no one would know that he’s human. Surely he can stay until the mermaid has to go.

“Sure!” Tommy beams, crossing his legs and planting his hands on his ankles as he leans forward. “Then you can tell me more about that ugly fish.”

The alien laughs, though it was more of a soft chuckle so he doesn’t make Tommy’s eardrums bleed.

“Alright, alright.” He says. “I’m Wilbur, by the way.”

If possible, Tommy’s grin gets wider.

“I’m Tommy.”

Tommy has been meeting up with Wilbur for a few days now, in the same pickup station as usual, and finds that he actually enjoys the mer’s presence. Though it’s not like he’d ever tell the bastard that.

Which, for such a cool-looking species, mer is such a boring name, though it’s not like human is any better either.

It was funnier to call Wilbur a mermaid anyway, but the dickhead was only amused by it so Tommy stopped after a little while.

Still, Tommy makes sure not to tell Puffy.

It’s not that he likes lying to her, of course not, she's his captain after all! But she’d definitely scold him for being reckless and hanging around so close to the water and around a water species no less. She might even try to stop Tommy from meeting with Wilbur and he really doesn’t want that to happen.

Not just because he’d have nothing to do again, but he also… well he thought of Wilbur as a friend. As much as one can be after only a few days, but they just got along well. Even if Tommy made it a point to tease and banter with him every chance he gets.

So he continues to sneak around Puffy’s watchful eye until he’s out of her sight and can meet Wilbur at the marina again.

Except this time, Wilbur is there before him.

Usually, Tommy would have to wait a few minutes before he shows up. But today, Wilbur is already hanging off the side of the pool, quietly humming to himself with his chin rested on his arms and his eyes closed.

Tommy is tempted to simply watch him from afar so he could listen to more of the mer’s humming. It's a pretty sound, something soft and sweet and nothing like anything Tommy had heard before. Though, admittedly, Tommy hasn’t listened to any music in a while, usually Puffy would put on some strange amalgamation of songs from her home world and while they sounded cool, they were nothing like this.

Tommy shifts his feet, edging a little closer, but his toe stubs the lip of the pickup station’s entrance. A dull thud has one of Wilbur’s ear-fin perking up as he opens his eyes.

“Tommy!” Wilbur whispers a greeting, ear-fins perking up as a wide grin spreads across his face, revealing fairly sharp teeth that Tommy still hasn’t fully gotten used to yet.

Still, Tommy grins back, anyway.

“Wilbur!” Tommy greets back, making his way over to the giant mer with his arms spread wide, dropping them once he gets closer. “Hove you finally got your package yet?”

If possible, Wilbur seems to get even more excited, ear-fins swishing up and down while the earrings and jewelry hanging from them jingle loudly.

“I did,” He says softly. “I took it home before coming back.”

Suddenly, Tommy feels a bit dejected. Now that Wilbur has gotten his package, he doesn’t have a reason to hang around the docks anymore. He’d probably go back to whatever he was doing before this. Tommy should feel happy for him, and he does, but now he’s going to be alone again without Wilbur.

Of course, he still has the crew, but it’s not the same when they’re all too busy working on the ship.

“So you’re not going to hang around the docks anymore then, huh?” Tommy says, trying his best to keep his smile from faltering.

Except, Wilbur laughs, quiet as usual, but like Tommy had said the most ridiculous thing in the entire world.

“Of course not.” The mer croons deeply and Tommy feels the weight on his heart lift. “I can’t leave my little gremlin hanging, after all.”

“Hey!” Tommy shouts in offense, but he’s not really offended. In fact, he's glad that Wilbur is staying. Obviously, he’d never tell the dickhead that. He’d be teased relentlessly if he did, though Tommy has a feeling that Wilbur knows and just isn’t saying anything.

Thankfully, the bastard doesn’t bring it up.

“Now sit down already, Toms.” Wilbur scolds jokingly and Tommy does so with a snort, sitting cross-legged a few feet away from where the mer’s arms are. “Let me tell you about the giant clam that tried to eat my lunch when I was at a reef nearby.”

“What is it like living in the ocean?” Tommy asks on another day, idly sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet just barely grazing the water.

He didn’t know the glass was so thick, but it's well past the length of his shins.

Wilbur hums thoughtfully. “I assume it’s like living on other planets, just underwater.”

“Really?” Tommy says doubtfully. He can’t imagine how it’d be anything like other planets, not with their waterproof electronics and their forges set in fucking underground volcanoes. If what Wilbur said about that bit was true, anyway. There’s no way in hell it could be similar to mostly land-filled planets.

Still, Wilbur continues with an amused snort.

“Well, maybe not entirely similar, but we have cities and towns here too.” He says. “They’re just more spread apart because of how big our planet is and since we can travel long distances without much effort, we have no reason to have them grouped together.”

Tommy leans forward curiously, a feeling of awe building in his chest.

“What are the cities like?”

“Well,” Wilbur tilts his head in thought. “Most of them are made up of big spiraling buildings and giant cave tunnels. We use white stone and marble to build a lot of the infrastructure but a few buildings are made of metal too. They’re very pretty and carved with images and symbols, the roofs are made from melted down pearls and decorated with corals.”

Tommy can hardly imagine it. Thoughts full of giant castle-like buildings, bigger than anything he’d seen before, fill his mind. Tons of different colorful mer cross his imagination and all Tommy can really think of to compare it to is the old, old Greek and Roman temples and buildings that he’d seen in books. Covered in coral with opalescent roofs and those odd plants, like the ones on the dock, popping up everywhere.

A part of Tommy wants to see them for himself, curious if his imagination was anything similar to what Wilbur is describing. Probably not, but it’d still be a cool place to visit.

Like Puffy would ever let him, though.

Wilbur sighs fondly, an almost distant look in his eyes.

“They’re beautiful, especially when the setting sun hits them at just the right angle.” He spares Tommy a soft look. “I think you’d like them. I don’t visit very often, though.”

Tommy frowns, tilting his head as his brows scrunch in confusion. “Huh? Why not, they sound awesome!”

The mer just shrugs.

“My family, my father and brother and I, live pretty far from them. It’s not hard to swim there, but they’re busy places with a lot of noise. It can get overwhelming pretty fast.”

“Oh,” Tommy says. “Well, I don’t visit cities very often either.”

Not that he doesn’t want to, but a lot of people meant a higher risk of getting caught and the only time Puffy let him go off into a city was if he was with her or some of the crew members. And even then, it’d have to be cities from planets in the outer worlds.

“I usually just live on the ship, but I get to see a lot of new places and planets, so I guess it’s fine that I don’t visit cities very often,” Tommy says idly, kicking his feet and splashing up tiny drops of water.

Wilbur smiles fondly, resting more of his weight onto his crossed arms as he relaxed. Practically hanging off the side of the pool, but not struggling to do so at all.

“Why don’t you tell me about some of them, then.” He says, shifting his head just a tiny bit closer to Tommy’s side. Close enough to where Tommy could reach out and touch him if he wanted to.

Still, Tommy grins brightly, rambling on about a planet called Enderion in the far outer worlds, even farther than the planet they’re on now, and how it was cold for a desert planet and had little to no sunlight. The only thing keeping it mildly warm and visible were the faraway stars that seemed to multiply and shift every time you looked at them.

Wilbur listened with rapt attention, expression still softly fond while Tommy ranted and raved about how he’d gotten sand all over his room and it took him months to clean it all out.

However, Tommy doesn’t notice the odd gleam in Wilbur’s golden eyes.

Something wanting and possessive, a tinge of dark, adoring fondness that is gone the second Tommy looks back at him dramatically.

“I don’t even know what’s taking so long!” Tommy groans in dismay, laying on his back against the glass floor while he throws his arms into the air before letting them fall with a small thud! “It’s been like- weeks now and none of them will even let me help either! I can’t do anything at all! They won’t even let me bring them their fucking tools! Tools! It’s ridiculous!”

Wilbur snorts softly from where he lazes partially out of the pool as usual, chin still resting against his folded arms and tail not even swishing in the water. The mer is completely at ease, ear-fins low and content and eyes half-lidded while Tommy is sprawled out across the floor with a heavy scowl.

A scowl, not a pout, no matter what Wilbur says.

Still, Wilbur laughs, ear-fins switching and jewelry jingling softly like wind chimes.

“You always complain about not being able to help with the ship,” The mer teases, and Tommy huffs with pink cheeks. “Wouldn’t you be more annoyed at having to do actual work on the ship?”

Tommy thinks about it for a moment, groaning as he rolls over onto his stomach, away from the edge of the pool.

“Yes.” He says with a grumble, voice slightly muffled from where his left cheek is squished against the glass. Tommy sighs before pushing himself up onto his elbows, threading his fingers together and occasionally tapping the tops of his feet against the floor.

“But it’s better than doing nothing when you’re not around.” He pouts—scowls, he scowls. “When I’m at the ship, all I do is sit in my room and nap or play games on my communicator. They’re not even good games either because Puffy says they’re ‘bad for my brain development’.”

Tommy grumbles at the mere thought, rolling his eyes heavily as he recalls the conversation with his captain. If he didn’t have some dumb parent lock on his communicator, which was extra dumb because Puffy isn’t his mom, then he’d be able to do all sorts of stuff to entertain himself.

Though, he pauses, maybe it wasn’t all bad. He wouldn’t have met Wilbur if he were just held up in his room all day playing games.

Still, he’d never tell Wilbur or Puffy that. First, because Wilbur would be an annoying bastard about it, and second because Puffy would say ‘I told you so’ and then proceed to scold him for hanging out with Wilbur next to the water.

So he’d keep his mouth shut until the end of time.

“Awe, Tommy.” Wilbur suddenly coos, and Tommy whips his head over to start at the mer with wide eyes. He didn’t say that out loud, right? No, no, he knows he didn’t. He’s not that absent-minded.

“Do you like hanging out with me?” He croons adoringly and Tommy can’t tell if it’s teasing, genuine, or a mix of both.

Immediately Tommy sputters in denial, face completely flushed red as he scrambles to sit up with his hands clenched into fists.

“No!” He shouts, absolutely mortified, but Wilbur croons again. “Shut up! I didn’t say that at all! You’re just a giant dumb fish that likes bothering me!”

Wilbur only laughs, his entire body shaking with the force to keep himself from getting too loud.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” The mer says with a teasing tone, though it’s far, far too fond. Tommy feels his face get redder. “I like hanging out with you too.”

“Shut up!” He repeats, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh my god, forget I even said anything!”

Wilbur coos again and Tommy wants nothing more than to melt into the floor and drown himself in the sea below. Surely it’d be better than this embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” Wilbur says, though the amusement in his words is thick and clear. Tommy glares at him from behind his fingers. “Awe, won’t you look at me, Toms?”

“Fuck you.” He scowls, face still warm.

The mer laughs, leaning forward until his face is hovering just a few feet away from where Tommy sits.

“Okay, okay,” Wilbur croons, softer this time and lacking the teasing adoration. “How about I get you a gift to make up for it, huh?”

Tommy narrows his eyes and slowly lowers his hands from his face.

“What kind of gift?”

Wilbur’s golden eyes seem to sparkle in excitement, ear-fins perked and the sail along his spine raised just a little bit.

"It’s a surprise,” He says. “But you’ll like it, I promise.”

Tommy regards the mer suspiciously, he knows Wilbur would never do something outright mean to him, but he also knows that he isn’t above teasing him either. However, Wilbur hasn’t ever teased him by using a gift and seems so genuinely excited that Tommy sighs.

“Okay, but if it’s fucked up, I’m tossing it right back into the ocean.”

It’s a pretty shitty warning since Wilbur could easily just grab it back, but Tommy doesn’t really care about that. It's the point that mattered.

“Alright, alright.” Wilbur chuckles before he unfolds his arms and pushes up to his full height. Not anywhere near the roof, but the fucker is still massive and it's still a slight shock to Tommy’s system. “Wait for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Then, he sinks back into the water, twisting elegantly under the ocean and beating his tail once in a powerful swoosh that has the giant mer moving deeper into the water with awe-inspiring speed and grace

Tommy scoots forward to watch from a better angle, nearly leaning over the side of the pool and careful not to put too much weight forward unless he wanted to be an idiot and fall in.

Eventually, after barely a few seconds, Wilbur slowly disappeared from view, body fading until he was nothing but a dark blue speck that eventually vanished.

It’s still unnerving that the water could be so deep.

Tommy can’t help but wonder how far down it goes, especially when this is supposed to be one of the really shallow areas. Yet somehow, it's still deep enough that he can’t see Wilbur anymore.

Tommy leans away from the lip of the marina with a shiver and a grimace.

Looking too far into the ocean for too long always gives him a bit of the creeps.

Sure, it's safe but… he remembers some saying about looking into the void and it looking back at you. This is water, of course, not space or pure darkness, but it's still close enough.

It takes a minute for so for Wilbur to start making his way back up, nothing but a little blue dot again that slowly gets bigger and bigger with more details until the mer is pulling himself onto the lip of the pool, soaking the area so Tommy has to scramble back to avoid getting wet.

“Here,” He says, holding out a palm that's bigger than the size of Tommy’s head. Yet he still can’t help but lean closer to get a better look at the ‘gift’.

It's some sort of white, metal contraption the size of Tommy’s palms. There are two pieces intertwined with each other in some weird, complicated way. The metal twisted and turned perfectly without any chips or cracks. It's smooth, with round edges and round ends, like a tiny rod was bent into shape and filed down so there weren't any sharp edges.

But there are also carvings along all of it too, beautiful things depicting fish and waves, Tommy can’t help but slowly reach out in awe. His hands barely even twitch at the cold, wet chill against his palm when he lifts it from Wilbur’s hand.

“What is it?” Tommy asks, lifting it above his head and noting how light it is, like he's caring something made out of plastic instead of metal.

“It’s a puzzle toy,” Wilbur says and Tommy immediately sends him an unimpressed look. He isn’t going to give it back though and before he can open his mouth, Wilbur beats him to it. “Don’t give me that look.” The mer scolds lightly. “You’re supposed to pull apart the two pieces without breaking them, and then put them back together the same way.”

Tommy frowns at him, but still glances down at the puzzle, experimentally giving both pieces a slight tug.

It doesn’t give.

Tommy twists it another way, turning one side towards him and the other away from him before trying to tug them apart again.

It still doesn’t give.

However, instead of being frustrated, Tommy is more intrigued. Surely it wouldn’t take him that long to figure it out but—

“Where did you get this?” He can’t help but ask, running a thumb over one of the intricate carvings, humming in surprise at how smooth the metal was.

Tommy glances up, curiously eyeing Wilbur’s expression. It’s annoyingly fond and Tommy scowls in response, though the mer ignores it.

“It was mine from when I was a pup.” He says, smiling softly. “My older brother made it for me, and I’d play with it often.”

Tommy’s scowl falls and he feels his chest swell with an emotion he doesn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole, face slowly turning pink as he glances back down at the puzzle toy. He’s not… delighted, or touched, or—or grateful, or anything like that at all!

Still, Tommy frowns a little, sparing Wilbur a look.

“Are you sure I can have this?” He can’t help but ask, it sounded very important to him.

“Of course, you can.” The mer croons gently, golden eyes adoring as he presses himself down to the glass floor to make himself smaller. “I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t want you to have it.”

Tommy can feel his face turn redder, fingers fidgeting with the puzzle as he stares at it, partially trying to hide his face in embarrassment.

“Thank you,” He mumbles softly, but Wilbur still hears him.

The stupid mer’s face gains that disgustingly soft look again, eyes practically shining and Tommy has to look away. Though he can still hear the fondness in Wilbur’s tone.

“Of course.” He says. “I’m happy to give it to you, my little gremlin.”

Chapter Text

It’s later in the day when Tommy is finally able to go meet up with Wilbur again, partially anxious that the mer might’ve already left, and partially just tired.

He had tried to wiggle his way into helping the crew fix the ship again, but all that got him was helping with the dishes in the kitchen. Tommy swears his fingers are still pruney and gross, and he can’t help but wonder how Wilbur doesn’t have that issue when he literally lives in the water. It's probably just a mer thing, or maybe pruney fingers are just a human thing, no one else on the ship got them.

Another perk of frail human skin, he supposed.

Still, that doesn’t stop Tommy from loudly complaining about the injustice done to him once he enters the pickup station, letting his voice get carried throughout the enclosed marina as soon as he catches sight of Wilbur lounging over the side of the pool like usual.

The fact that he's still waiting for him does not make Tommy’s heart feel funny, not at all.

“I just had,” He starts dramatically, holding his arms out and tilting his chin slightly up when Wilbur notices him with an overjoyed glance. “The worst day. They made me do dishes Wilbur, dishes! That’s like the worst job on the ship!”

Tommy throws his arms out once he gets closer to the bench, letting himself fall face-first into the cushions with a heavy groan while Wilbur chuckles softly, water sloshing as he turns himself to face Tommy.

“It’s not funny you dick.” He grumbles, but it’s more lighthearted than anything else and Wilbur’s laugh gets a tad louder.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to help around?” The mer teases. “Now you got your wish, didn’t you?”

“Oh fuck you.” Tommy scowls, lifting his head from the cushion to give Wilbur the strongest glare he could muster. “Doing dishes is not helping with the ship and you know it! This is a cruel injustice! And you’re laughing at me!”

“I’m not, I’m not!” Wilbur defends, but the amused grin on his face is obvious and the tone of his voice is clearly strained to keep a laugh back.

Tommy’s scowl darkens and he lets himself slink down onto the glass floor like a limp pile of goo, groaning in dramatic dismay while Wilbur coos, though he still sounds more amused than anything else.

“Okay, okay,” Wilbur suddenly sighs, though he doesn’t sound upset or remorseful at all. The dickhead. “Why don’t I tell you some more stories to make up for it, then?”

Tommy rolls onto his back, turning his head to face the massive mer as he eyes him thoughtfully. Stories would be pretty cool, especially the ones about Wilbur’s older brother, who is, apparently, bigger than Wilbur himself. Though Tommy still doesn’t believe that. But there’s something else he wanted to do a bit more—

“Can I look at your earrings?” He blurts recklessly, mouth clicking shut when Wilbur looks at him in surprise. “Or uh—” Tommy scrambles to sit up on his shins, face red as he tries to backtrack. “I mean, you don’t have to, I just- uh- nevermind! Forget I said that!”

Tommy covers his face with his hands, leaning his back against the seat of the bench and kicking out his legs with an embarrassed groan.

God that was so dumb, why the hell did he say that?!

Well—sure it's because the jewelry and earrings are cool and pretty, but god who just blurts out a question like that?! What if they were like- really culturally important to mer?! Holy shit he’s such an idiot. Sure he’s never been good at tact but—

Tommy is too busy hiding his face in his hands to notice the absolutely adoring look Wilbur gives him, golden eyes practically molten and pupils blown wide. His ear-fins are perked, sail flaring and fingers twitching just to hold.

But it’s gone after a moment, and Wilbur quietly clears his throat with a soft croon.

“You can look if you want,” He says and Tommy peaks between his fingers to look at him in confusion. “You can touch them too, but you’ll have to sit on my hands to reach them.”

Tommy bites his lip nervously, more than a little unsure. Wilbur could hold him like a toddler and crush him just as easily but—

Tommy trusts him, Wilbur hasn’t done anything to him before and hasn’t even hinted at hurting him. There’s no reason for Tommy not to trust him and even then, what’s the harm in taking a small risk to see giant mer jewelry when he will likely never be able to do so again once the ship is fixed?

“Alright,” Tommy says, though the tone of his voice is slightly tense with nerves, but ultimately firm in his decision.

Wilbur leans back to lift himself up properly, tail effortlessly keeping him afloat in the water as he holds out his hands in an invite.

Tommy doesn’t move for a second, eyeing how much bigger Wilbur’s hands are than his entire fucking body. He hadn’t noticed before, but the mer has some pretty long talons too, and very slightly webbed fingers.

Still, Tommy swallows thickly, slowly climbing to his feet as he makes his way towards Wilbur. His hands shake a tiny bit, but he pays them no mind until he’s right in front of Wilbur’s palms, chewing his lip as he glances up at the mer, as if for confirmation.

Wilbur smiles gently, giving him a little nod.

“It’s alright.” He says, “I’ve got you. I won’t drop you, promise.”

Tommy lets out a shaky breath, but begins his climb onto Wilbur’s hands, twitching slightly as one hand gently wraps around his back to support him and the other holds up the back of his thighs. Like Wilbur is actually picking him up like a newborn baby or some shit.

It's fucking embarrassing, but he doesn’t complain while the mer lifts him right up to one of his ear-fins, loosening his grip just slightly so Tommy could lean forward in awe.

There are two earrings on this fin in total. Dangling, string-like things that looked like drops of colorful water, multiple gems going down the metal chains like leftover raindrops and ending with curved yet pointed metalwork that made up the main piece of the earrings. There are even small bits of metal that are shaped and carved to look like waves and fern-like kelp surrounding the biggest gems.

They're a lot prettier up close, more details etched in that Tommy couldn’t see from far away. The metal is definitely that same lightweight, white metal as the puzzle toy Wilbur had given him, and there are gems of such vivid emerald greens, azure blues, and violets that Tommy can’t help but breathe out an awed sound.

They shined brighter than anything Tommy had ever seen before, cut perfectly with each edge reflecting in the light. Tommy can even see his own reflection in them, and he's sorely tempted to reach out and run his fingers over one.

“You can touch them,” Wilbur says softly, as though he were reading Tommy’s mind. “It won’t hurt me, just make sure not to tug on them.” He adds, tone a bit amused.

Tommy scowls softly, throwing a glare to the side of Wilbur’s face that he knows the fucker can see from the corner of his eye.

“I won’t tug on them.” Tommy huffs. “I’m not a toddler.”

Still, he bites his lip, unsure.

“Are you sure I can touch them?” He can’t help but ask. Tommy doesn’t want to potentially cause issues with them. Aren’t ear piercings supposed to be sensitive or something?

Wilbur coos fondly, the sound much louder with Tommy right next to his face, but he’s grown used to it by now and doesn’t even flinch.

“I promise you can touch them,” Wilbur reassures gently. “Nothing will happen, I’ll be fine.”

Encouraged, Tommy finally reaches forward, fingers gently gliding over the carvings in the metal and the smooth faces of the gems. Not unlike the glass floor, but still different. It's easier to glide his fingers over them than it was the floor. They don’t feel cold like he was expecting, either. More of a lukewarm temperature that has his own cold fingertips feeling warmer than before.

They're amazing, and Tommy wonders if Wilbur’s brother had also made these too, just like he made the puzzle toy.

“It’d be cool if I could pierce my ears one day too,” Tommy whispers and he can feel Wilbur tremble just slightly from his fond chuckle.

It’s not a mean or condescending sound in the slightest, and Tommy feels his heart lift at the encouraging noise. So different from the chuckles and awkward laughs he’d get at the ship whenever he’d say something similar.

“Maybe one day you can,” Wilbur says with a croon and Tommy finds himself smiling at the thought.

The next time Wilbur brings Tommy something to mess with, it isn’t another puzzle toy like he’d been expecting. Instead, it's a fucking massive tooth with serrated edges and is much larger than any tooth Tommy had seen before. It's bigger than his fucking hand!

Tommy turns it over in his hands, lightly gliding his thumb over the serrated side of the tooth and careful not to cut himself with it.

It’s a bit hard to keep a grip on it, though. The bone is smooth down the flat faces of it, and ironically the safest place to keep hold of it, and just holding the tooth flat on his palm isn’t enough to keep the uneven weight from slipping off and slicing the entire side of his hand.

Still, it’s fucking cool and Tommy can’t help but wonder where Wilbur got it from.

“Did you like- pick this up off the ocean floor or something?” He asks from where he sits crisscrossed on the glass, just a few feet away from the pool while Wilbur lounges in his usual spot.

The mer tilts his head, resting his cheek on his wrist to stare at Tommy with one of his ear-fins flicking and earrings jingling in turn.

Wilbur snorts at the question, raising an amused brow.

“Of course not,” He says, like it’s obvious, and Tommy sends him an almost deadpanned look. Wilbur chuckles in response but continues anyway. “My brother brought it back for me after one of his hunts. It’s from a giant spiderfish.”

“A fucking what?” Tommy sputters, blinking at Wilbur in utter surprise. That sounds… fucking terrifying.

Still, Wilbur chuckles in amusement. “Giant spiderfish, they lurk around underwater caves and shit. They’re not very common though, Techno only found one because it snuck out and tried to take his kill. Don’t worry, you won’t ever have to meet one.”

“Huh,” Tommy mumbles to himself, glancing back down to the massive tooth in his hands. But—

“Is Techno your brother’s name?” He can’t help but ask. What kind of name is Techno for some giant monster killer?

“Hmm?” Wilbur seems caught off guard, not by a lot, but more like he’d simply forgotten to tell Tommy his brother’s name and is surprised at himself for only mentioning it now. “Oh, yeah. His full name is Technoblade, I never told you that, did I?”

Tommy shook his head. “No, I don’t know your dad’s name either.”

“Huh,” Wilbur blinks, dumbfounded. “I thought I had mentioned their names before.” He suddenly shrugs. “Oh well. My sire’s name is Philza, but everyone just calls him Phil.”

Tommy’s brows crunch in confusion, opening his mouth to ask why the mer calls his dad sire, but before he can—

The tooth slips from his hand, easily slicing through the skin of his palm.

Immediately, Tommy hisses in pain, gripping his wrist tightly in an attempt to lessen the blood flow to his hand. The tooth clatters against the glass, long forgotten while Wilbur leans closer with a horrified croon, arms unfolding and hands reaching out as though to steady him.

“Oh no, no,” Wilbur whispers worriedly and Tommy can just barely see the way his fins and sail have risen in alarm. “Hold on, let me help you. There’s a medical kit in the wall, it has a healing potion in there.”

Wilbur pulls back, turning to one of the wall sides and doing something. Tommy doesn’t really pay attention, he’s more focused on his bleeding hand and the red that’s beginning to blur his vision. Not that he’s bleeding out, the cut is too small for that, but the blood pools in his palm and seeps between his fingers and down the side of his hand and arm, steadily dripping onto the glass in thick splats.

Tommy can see a group of fish gather underneath it, some poking at the glass with their mouths and some simply hovering. It's unnerving and creepy, and if Tommy wasn’t so focused on cutting off his own blood circulation, he would’ve stomped on the glass to try and scare them away.

Eventually, though it was only a few seconds, Wilbur returns.

“Here, drink this, Tommy. It’s already open.” The mer murmurs, pressing a decently sized potion into his side. “It’ll heal it and I’ll clean up for you, okay?”

Tommy nods, slowly loosening his grip on his wrist, grimacing when the blood from his palm starts to flow faster. Still, he grabs the potion with his newly freed hand, making sure to grip the neck of the bottle tightly so he doesn’t drop it due to the blood.

Immediately, Tommy throws his head back, downing the potion as fast as he can with his eyes squeezed shut.

It doesn’t taste gross, not at all, more like sweetly fermented fruits and sugar. Still, it makes his shoulders relax, the pain in his palm slowly fading away until it's completely gone, along with the potion.

However, Tommy doesn’t see Wilbur collecting some of his blood into a vial. He doesn’t see the mer hide it away in the same satchel he’d used to hold the tooth when he brought it over, nor does he see Wilbur use the water to clean away any remnants of blood that might’ve gotten onto it.

Instead, Tommy tilts his head back down and opens his eyes with a relieved sigh, watching as Wilbur uses water to wash away the blood on the glass.

Tommy still needs to wash away the blood on his hands and arms too.

He’s thankful that he didn’t get any blood on his clothes, though. Explaining that to Puffy would’ve been a nightmare.

Eventually, after all the blood on the floor is washed away, the tooth was taken back, and Wilbur helped Tommy clean the blood from himself by cupping water in his palms as a large sink, the mer finally speaks up, sounding more than a little remorseful.

“I shouldn’t have brought you something so sharp when you don’t have the scales to protect yourself.” He says quietly.

Tommy rolls his eyes with a huff, it wasn’t Wilbur’s fault that he had annoyingly fragile human skin. And it’s not like the mer knew that either.

“It’s fine, it’s all healed now. It isn’t that big of a deal.” He mumbles from where he sits on the glass again, face a bit pink. Wilbur has also returned to his usual position of crossing his arms on the floor and resting his chin on them, though he distinctly looks like a kicked puppy now with his drooping ear-fins. He's hovered a bit closer, too. “You don’t have to be such a mother hen about it. It was just an accident.”

Wilbur coos in response, leaning closer with a slightly teasing grin.

“I didn’t know you could be so thoughtful.” He says and Tommy’s face flushes in embarrassment.

“Oh shut up!”

Two months have passed since Tommy had first met Wilbur and since his ship had broken down.

It’s been long and boring and their rations had gotten so low at one point that Puffy needed to buy some from other cargo ships or barter with some of the mer to get fish for them so they could cook it aboard the ship. Which, wasn’t terrible, it was actually pretty good, but it certainly wasn’t anything Tommy was used to.

There aren’t many dock workers, either. Tommy had discovered that rather early on. So while the place is beautiful, it's empty with little help from the workers who also don’t stay on the docks for longer than a few days before switching shifts.

Still, their stay on the dumb ocean planet isn’t the absolute worst and Tommy found that the best part of it all was being able to meet up with Wilbur every day. Being able to listen to the stories he told and play with all the weird things he brought back, and though Wilbur luckily didn’t bring back any more teeth, the bits of coral and pearls he’d bring were just as amazing too.

Not that he’d ever tell the mer that, the teasing would be relentless if he did, but it was nice.

Still, Tommy would consider Wilbur to be his best friend.

Which makes it extra hard to leave him.

Their ship has finally been fixed, engines repaired, rust cleared away, rations restocked, and new parts having been shipped to them by other cargo crews. Puffy didn’t tell him exactly what was wrong with it in the first place, mentioning something about certain bits of the engine somehow getting clogged with oil and dust, likely from the last planet they had visited.

It's all cleared out now, and even if the look of the ship didn’t change, both inside and out, Tommy couldn’t help but think that it felt different. That it’d be weird to look outside his window and not see the walls of the dock hanger.

Tommy doesn’t want to leave Wilbur, not really. The mer was probably the best thing to ever happen to him!

But this is a planet made entirely of water, with giant fish that could swallow Tommy whole, and living on a dock would never work out the way he’d hoped. It's impossible for him to stay, Tommy knows, yet the logic still doesn’t help ease the weight in his chest.

It’s hard, going to see Wilbur now, knowing he only has two days left until he has to go.

But it’d be cruel to avoid him and leave without a word, just so he never has to say goodbye.

Still, as much as Tommy tries to keep himself as chipper as usual, he can’t keep the dejected look off of his face when he steps into the pickup station.

His bottom lip wobbles and his hands shake, but Tommy bites his lip and clenches his hands into fists to try and hide it. Even if his attempts to look normal are all in vain.

Wilbur is waiting for him this time, earlier than usual, though maybe Tommy is late by a few minutes instead. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the time, dreading when he eventually does meet up with the mer again. Unsure of how to even bring up the fact that he’d be leaving.

Still, Wilbur doesn’t look bothered at all. In fact, he grins brightly at Tommy, eyes squinted at the force and sharp teeth widely on display.

“Tommy!” Wilbur says happily, before his expression quickly falls into something concerned and worried, his ear-fins rising in alarm. “Tommy, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Tommy almost stumbles at the reaction, feet shuffling as he blinks owlishly. He wasn’t expecting it to be so intense, and that fact only served to make his heart feel even more like a stone. Sitting heavy in his chest.

“We’ll be leaving in a few days,” Tommy mumbles quietly once he’s a few feet away from Wilbur, unable to push even an ounce of enthusiasm into his voice. He stares at the ground, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Puffy says it may even be less than that.”

Wilbur is quiet, but Tommy can’t bring himself to look at him, afraid of whatever expression the mer may have on his face. Would he be mad? Sad? Tommy isn’t sure. He continues to tug at the hem of his shirt, silently cursing when he pulls a bit too much on a thread and begins to pull.

Tommy startles when a large knuckle gently tilts his chin up, blinking in surprise as he’s forced to meet Wilbur’s gaze.

There’s a sad sort of smile on the mer’s face. It’s hard to make out, confusing and tinged with an odd sort of glint. Something almost wanting and greedy and unwilling to let go, though the flash of emotions is gone before Tommy can properly respond to it.

“My sire has been working on a water-breathing potion,” Wilbur says instead, and Tommy feels his heart begin to soar. “If you want, we can test it out tomorrow.”

He opens his mouth, eager to say yes, but pauses.

Is it really safe to do that? Sure, he’s known Wilbur for two months now but… can he really trust the mer? Maybe Wilbur doesn’t know Tommy is human, but there's still so much he could do to screw him over anyway.

Not to mention, even if Wilbur doesn’t know that Tommy is human now, he’d certainly know the second they go under the ocean and the water washes away his face paint.

It's dangerous. So, so dangerous.

As if sensing his hesitance, Wilbur speaks again.

“Think of it like gaining some happy memories before you go.” He says softly. “And you can look back on it when you’re doing deliveries and jobs all the way up in space.”

Surely this is a chance that he can’t pass up.

When would Tommy ever get a chance to do something like this again? When, for the rest of his life, he’d be hiding away on a ship and pretending to be another species so he wouldn't get caught. Or, at best, he’d finally get to an inner world planet that he could stay on, trapped for the rest of his life.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Tommy still can’t help but ask. He doesn’t know much about potions, but they were supposedly universal, weren’t they? At least, that’s what everyone says. He’s only ever used the health potion Wilbur gave him when he cut his palm.

“Of course!” Wilbur beams, an excited grin on his face. “My sire makes and sells potions all the time and I know more than enough about them as well. I promise it’ll be safe.”

Tommy chews on his lower lip, still unsure, but he can’t say no to the hopeful look on the mer’s face.

“Alright,” He says, though he makes sure to cut in before Wilbur can speak again. “But! I can only be gone for an hour before I have to check in with my captian.”

The excited grin on Wilbur’s face doesn’t falter, but it does get oddly sharp. The corners of his lips curling in a way that makes Tommy a bit uneasy, something dark and hungry swirling in the mer’s gaze. Eager, adoring, and so, desperately wanting. Possessive.

Again, it’s gone after barely a second.

Tommy ignores it, reassuring himself that it’s surely nothing but a trick of the light.

“Come in the afternoon, then,” Wilbur whispers brightly, leaning in closer as if telling a secret. “Our reef practically glows in the sunset.”

Tommy grins and nods.

Besides, he’d be leaving soon anyway. Even if Wilbur does find out that he’s human, it won’t matter since he’ll be gone just a day after.

Though, Tommy definitely can’t tell Puffy. She’d never let him leave and would ground him for the rest of time if she knew.

Thankfully, what she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.

“Remember,” Puffy reminds him sternly the next day, her curly hair bouncing from where she leans down to rest a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “An hour, that’s how long you get to ping me before I come looking for you.”

“I know, Puffy,” Tommy bemoans dramatically. “You tell me every time I leave the ship, and I haven’t forgotten yet.”

He has, and they both know it, but it’s only been by a few minutes at best and obviously doesn’t count.

“I know, but better safe than sorry, kid.” She says, pausing before she continues again. “Just be sure to be on time today, okay? I’ve got a bad feeling and you always trust a captain’s gut.”

“Alright, alright. If it makes you feel better then I will.” Tommy’s exasperation lessens into something more touched and amused, but he still rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Energy buzzes underneath his skin and he’s eager to go, but Tommy doesn’t step away until Puffy sighs and released his shoulder, closing her eyes as though to collect herself before she waves him off.

Instantly, he’s running, a grin stretching wide across his face as he bolts to get out of the hanger.

“Okay, okay!” Tommy shouts. “I’m going now! See you later!”

Some of the crew also call back their goodbyes, shouting over machinery and heavy boots on metal, while others are too busy lifting heavy crates to even speak. Tommy doesn’t mind, though, he’s not close with all of them and more than a few have been right pricks during this whole dumb stay on the dock.

“Be safe!” Puffy calls back, voice carrying even over all the movement and words of the crew still getting packed up and ready to go. “Don’t forget to check in! Remember, an hour! Or I will come for you, brat!”

Tommy laughs loudly, pausing for a second at the hanger entrance to send Puffy a falsely annoyed grin.

“I know!”

Tommy races across the dock, shoes squeaking against the glass and pounding against the metal loudly, but he’s too excited to slow down. For once, he's actually going to see something interesting, rather than just the cool abyss of the ocean under his feet that he’d been forced to look at for the last two months.

Idly, he can’t help but glance down, wondering if he could catch Wilbur swimming by or if the mer is already at the hanger.

Tommy doesn’t see the mer’s glimmering blue tail, nor the twinkling of his jewelry or the opalescence of his horns. It’s a little disappointing, watching Wilbur glide through the water effortlessly was always awe-inspiring to see. Not… that he’d ever tell the arrogant bastard that, of course. The dumb mer would definitely let it go to his big head.

Tommy shakes his head, slipping into their usual pickup station.

“Tommy!” Wilbur greets as soon he steps into the marina, his tone only slightly above his usual whisper. The loudest he can get without Tommy needing to cover his ears tightly. “Are you ready to go?”

Wilbur is already leaning out of the water, the upper half of his body lazing over the side of the glass flooring, his tail swishing back and forth gently in the slow current. Just like always.

Still, that isn’t what catches Tommy’s eye.

There’s a normal-sized flask resting on the lip of the water entry, maybe the same size as Tommy’s palm, and the material is opaque and shiny like it was made from a small shell. It probably was.

A little odd that it isn’t in a normal potion bottle, but Tommy ignores it, far too excited to care.

He shrugs off his cloak, tossing it haphazardly to the side with excitement brimming in his eyes. Tommy had worn something purposefully light for today and for once, he won’t need to bring his cloak with him.

It's almost freeing to finally have it off around Wilbur.

“I am!” He cheers, stopping a foot away from where Wilbur lounges, grinning from ear to ear as the mer reaches back and lifts the flask between his index finger and thumb. Gently dropping the dark container into Tommy’s hands.

It’s actually bigger than his palms and feels rougher and tumbled rather than the smooth glass of normal potion bottles.

Weird, but maybe that's just how mer make their bottles.

“You have to drink all of that, it’s a bit gross, but it’ll work,” Wilbur instructs, patting Tommy’s head with a ridiculously large hand, almost cupping his entire head. The touch is light, but still enough to force Tommy to dip his head a few times.

“How gross is it?” He can’t help but ask hesitantly, removing the cap of the flask and sniffing the contents.

It doesn’t smell like anything at all.

“It’s pretty gross,” Wilbur chuckles, forcing himself down until his chin touches the glass floor. For once, Tommy can meet his eyes without needing to look up. “But you won’t taste it until after. It won’t last long, either.”

Tommy’s nose scrunches, still a bit indecisive, but he’s chugging the odorless potion before he can talk himself out of it. Throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

It’s a gross, thick substance, tingling on his tongue and fuzzing his mouth. Just the texture is enough to make him gag like he's drinking chunky, expired milk. As Wilbur said, Tommy doesn’t actually taste anything until after the first gulp. The rancid, rotting fish flavor sticking to the back of his tongue and coating his mouth so intensely that Tommy almost gags and coughs the entire potion up.

A finger gently touching the back of the flask is the only thing that keeps him from throwing the damn thing away and vomiting his guts out.

“I know, I know,” Wilbur croons softly, that same, eager and hungry tilt is in his tone again, setting off alarm bells in the back of Tommy’s mind. But it’s hard to focus on it when he’s choking down a foul potion. “It tastes bad, but you have to drink all of it.”

Tommy whines in disgust, but does as he’s told, swallowing down the horrible concoction gulp by gulp until there's nothing left in the flask.

Wilbur finally pulls his finger away, letting Tommy lower the container while he coughs and gags, gasping for breath while his stomach roils at the unfamiliar magic. He felt a little like throwing up, but the mere thought had his gut twisting almost in protest. Like the idea of vomiting up the potion is going to make him feel so much worse.

“Here, I can take that,” Wilbur says, gently pulling the flask from Tommy’s hands, he doesn’t fight him on it. “You’re going to need to be in the water for this part, sunshine.”

Tommy coughs again with a nod, trying not to feel sick when his stomach jumps, and sighs in relief as the horrid taste in his mouth fades away. His belly is still cramped uncomfortably, twisted up in knots, but he assumes it’s merely the potion taking effect.

“How long- how long is this going to take?” Tommy wheezes as Wilbur lowers himself into the ocean, still helping to guide Tommy into sitting on the edge and beginning to ease himself onto the mer’s hands. His feet just starting to dip into the water and inch up his legs as Wilbur carries him down slowly to the surface of the ocean.

Surprisingly, it isn’t as cold as he was expecting. In fact, it’s weirdly warm. Even though Tommy knows it should be cold.

“It’ll start in a second, it won’t take too long.” The mer says, carefully pulling Tommy down until he's floating in the water, sitting on Wilbur’s cupped hands.

“Start?” Tommy says with a confused frown, blinking up at Wilbur as his vision steadily gets more and more blurry. That… that isn’t normal, was it? “I-I thought potions didn’t change anything?”

Even with his blurry eyesight, Tommy could see the almost smug look on the mer’s face. Something so darkly pleased curling over his features that Tommy’s breath hitches in fear.

“Wilbur?” He whimpers, heart fluttering anxiously under his ribs.

“It’s alright,” Wilbur croons, but this time the noise makes Tommy’s head feel funny. Like he should just relax, let himself go, and let Wilbur take care of him, but he can’t. This is—this is wrong, Tommy knows it is. “I’m finally taking you home. We just had to make it so you can come home, is all.”

The blonde opens his mouth to speak, vision too messed up to even make out the expression on the mer’s face anymore, before everything starts to hurt. His legs, his arms, his spine, his head, even his ears. It all hurts and Tommy can’t stop himself from tipping to the side, lying in Wilbur’s hands with his arms wrapped around his stomach, curling into a ball and squeezing his eyes shut from the pain.

Tommy whimpers, his mouth and throat hurt too. Even the start of a hiccupping sob has him trembling in torment, jugular burning, wishing for all of the pain to just stop.

It hurts, it hurts so bad. Why does it hurt so bad?

“I know, I know. It hurts, I’m sorry. Just give in, Toms. Just let go.” Wilbur whispers, humming a soft, melodic tune. Tommy can feel the water rise around him, the warmth flooding over his body. But the ocean isn’t rising, he’s sinking. “It’ll all be over when you wake up.”

Tommy wheezes again, trying to speak, because how could he fucking fall asleep like this, but the only sound that comes out is more of a chirp than a word. A weird, bird-like noise that is far, far too loud.

It breaks off into a painful sob, but Tommy only gets another low croon in response, something in the back of his brain lighting up at the drawn-out sound.

Tommy can hear something else too, boots pounding against metal before the dull echoes quickly turn into sharp clacks on glass. It’s loud and panicked, fast-paced like whoever they are, are running as fast as they possibly can.

A familiar voice shouts for him, and Tommy tries to shift, to see them, but he can’t.

He can, however, feel Wilbur stiffen. Fingers curling lightly around him like a shield while an odd, rattling sound echoes out of the mer’s throat.

It’s a horrible noise, something that has Tommy choking on air, his heart leaping into his throat as he curls in on himself in a vain attempt to cower away from what sounds like warning fury. It feels like a promise of something terrible and even if it isn’t directed at Tommy, it’s still enough to have him chirping out weird, broken, and garbled noises in fear.

The footsteps skid to a stop with a horrified gasp, something heartbroken and hopeless. Tommy can hear Wilbur say something, low and menacing, but he can’t make out the words or what the other person responds with.

He coughs, trying to speak, but it still hurts. It still feels like his throat is being ripped to shreds, and Wilbur only gently tightens his grip in response. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s something equal parts possessive, protective, and comforting.

Tommy melts into it, soaking in the soothing croon he gets in response.

Still, Tommy tries to say something again, an attempt to figure out who had shown up. He knows them, he swears he does, but his awareness is slipping away. Like sand dripping through his fingers, he can’t grab onto it. No matter how hard he tries, it continues to stay out of his reach until he loses focus, thoughts lagging as he struggles to understand why he’s even awake at all and what he was so worried about, to begin with.

The last thing he’s aware of is the warm water going over his head, a shout of his name screaming out above him, and breathing even with the water entering his lungs.

It all slips away in barely a second.

Chapter Text

Tommy wakes up slowly, disoriented and confused as the world blinks into… blurriness.

Tommy tries to blink again, rubbing his eyes to force his blurry vision to focus, but no matter what he does, he still can’t see anything but vague shapes and colors around him. It’s annoying and weird, especially because he knows that this isn’t the dock, but he can’t remember why he knows that when the colors and lighting match the station almost perfectly. Sure, it's a bit darker, but Tommy assumes that’s just because of the lights being dimmer.

Everything feels weird too, now that Tommy notices it. Like he’s lighter and floaty, but also heavier and… ticker? He doesn’t have the right word to describe the feeling. However, when Tommy tries to take a step, his legs jerk at once instead of just one at a time. And they don’t even jerk in the right direction either, causing Tommy to flip onto his side awkwardly. Something he definitely shouldn’t be able to do.

Tommy blinks again, utterly confused. The air feels thick, but floaty and he easily lifts himself off the soft ground he was lying on without a problem. That shouldn’t be possible.

He breathes in suspiciously, air catching in his chest once he realizes that he’s under fucking water.

Immediately Tommy chokes, gasping and holding his breath in a panic. Was he not breathing this whole time subconsciously? How had he woken up when he was clearly passed out under the fucking ocean?

It doesn’t make any sense, but Tommy doesn’t dwell on it, holding his breath as he tries to kick up to the surface. But he can’t move, his legs won’t respond and all they do instead is jerk oddly. They don’t even move normally, instead feeling more fluid than they should. Still, Tommy can’t move right, flipping over onto his side again as he struggles and wiggles awkwardly against what feels like sand.

Tommy’s head feels light, an ache in his chest rising from the lack of oxygen, and he coughs out a series of sounds he doesn’t pay attention to because he’s too busy trying not to fucking die.

Until someone coos above him, the noise familiar and louder than before, and lighting up the back of Tommy’s brain like a fucking firework.

He can’t help but gasp when two large hands scoop him up and bring him close to a chest, panicking when the water enters his mouth.

He’s going to die; he’s going to die; he’s going to die—

But it doesn’t hurt. There’s no stinging pain of water ruining his lungs, or tears springing in his eyes at his body’s natural reaction to reject the water from entering his chest. He feels normal, well, not entirely normal, but he’s breathing just fine when he shouldn’t be able to. Tommy, hesitantly, even breathes in again, just in case this is some sort of fluke and he didn’t actually take a breath and his mind made it up instead.

Yet he can breathe. Under water. The mere thought short circuits Tommy’s brain.

There’s another coo, so soothing and gentle that it brings Tommy back to the present quickly. Like it's softly calling his attention, like a parent or something, but Tommy isn’t sure how he knows that.

Still, he tries to speak. Just because he can apparently breathe underwater, doesn’t mean he isn’t scared out of his fucking mind.

What’s going on? He wants to ask. What happened? But all that comes out is a series of weird chirping sounds, getting higher and louder and more frantic as Tommy begins to panic again. He can’t talk. Why can’t he talk? This isn’t right, this isn’t right at all! How did he even get here? Tommy can’t remember!

He wiggles, trying to pull himself out of the hands, they hold him gently, but their grip is still unyielding.

Why won’t they let go? Everything is wrong, he needs help and he can’t— he can’t—

The chirps get even louder, practically to the point of shrieking and Tommy only vaguely recognizes that they don’t sound anything like how he used to talk before. Entirely inhuman. They don’t even sound like words, but somehow he can still understand the meaning, his own panic and desperation spilling from his throat, calling for help and safety as his terror threatens to consume him.

There’s a loud croon this time, something that feels like it shakes Tommy’s entire being, and suddenly his racing heart is calming and his mind is clearing against his will. As if someone had, pun fully intended, dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, but in a nice, gentle sort of way that he can’t describe accurately. The best he could compare it to is being snapped out of a stupor with a warm, tight hug, something heavy like he's being wrapped in a weighted blanket.

Tommy blinks as the feeling fades away, taking in big gulps of air—water?—as he tries to look around, but he’s fucking exhausted. He can’t see much past the blurry arms and chests and—

Wait. Arms and chest?

Now that he isn’t completely distracted by his own panic, Tommy can hear a weird rumbling sound under his ear and can feel the warmth he’s wrapped up in. The noise is almost like… a purr, or something similar, deep and smooth and calming to listen to. Pleasant and relaxing like the faraway rumble of a thunderstorm.

Still, Tommy’s mind blanks at the fact that someone massive is holding him, not quite catching on until the purring softens, though it doesn’t let up, and they speak.

“There you are. It’s alright, Toms, you’re okay.” Wilbur croons, his voice sounding normal instead of the usual hushed tone Tommy would hear before. “I’m got you, you’re alright, just relax.”

Behind the calming racing of his heart, Tommy realizes that Wilbur has him tucked up against his chest, his forehead resting just below the mer’s collarbone while massive arms cradle him like a baby.

He tries to speak, but he can’t angle his tongue the right way through the sea and his throat instantly seizes when the water tries to do down it, reflexive and not at all used to being under the fucking ocean. Still, Tommy lets out a whine, the only sound he can seem to make besides the strange chirps and warbles.

Maybe it was some side effect of the water-breathing potion?

Tommy pauses, memories suddenly slapping him in the face.

The fucking potion. He had forgotten all about it, but he doesn’t remember much after drinking it and sitting in Wilbur’s hands. He thinks Wilbur had a weird look on his face, but the memory is fuzzy and Tommy can’t even recall what the mer had said to him either.

Tommy tries to speak away, but panic leaps into his throat as soon as he starts to form a garbled word.

“Sh, sh,” Wilbur says in a gentle whisper. “The change is still fresh, you’ve only been out for a few hours. You’ll get the hang of talking soon.”

Tommy stiffens, blinking unseeingly at what he assumes is Wilbur’s face.

Change? He wants to ask. What change?

Something nags at the back of Tommy’s brain, suddenly insistent and fearful, an old sort of panic that he felt before passing out.

Tommy slowly turns his head down, his heart rate picking up, the muscle pounding against his rips as he holds his breath. His chest starts to ache, the lack of… air? Does he still breathe air underwater? Fish have gills for that shit, don’t they? So he must still be breathing air.

Tommy mentally shakes those thoughts away, focusing instead on his body.

Even with his blurry vision, Tommy can see that his arms are pudgier than he remembers, not fat in an overweight sort of way, but like he’s a fucking baby or something. Tommy can see some weird, almost see-through, white plants connected to them, too. Probably something he got stuck to when he was rolling around on the ground. His fingers aren’t long anymore either and instead, look more like chubby little carrots. Even his hands are pudgy, and awkward as he tries to move them correctly.

Except, Tommy pauses, sucking in a sharp breath at the slight webbing between his carrot fingers.

Tommy trails his eyes down, horror mounting as he stares at his body through a hazy vision.

Or, well, half of his fucking body.

He’s got that same odd pudginess on his torso, but still not in that overweight way. He looks like those healthy toddlers he used to see in the orphanage, plump from food and not a rib in sight, but not overly round. Rather, similar to the range a toddler’s weight should be. At least, from what his old caretakers had said.

But Tommy doesn’t focus on that, no. His unfocused eyes are caught on the fucking tail that connects to him where his fucking legs should be. It’s white and long, for his size, but the tail fin and side fins—his fins—are too big, like they haven’t been grown into yet, and when Tommy tries to move his legs, because this can’t be him, the tail jerks awkwardly in response.

Tommy screeches, something weird moving up his back and his ears feel weird too. He can’t see his ears, obviously, but when he looks over his shoulder, he spots a sail and screams even louder.

His voice travels through the water when it shouldn’t, but Tommy barely takes note of it, much too focused on the fact that he’s a fucking alien mermaid. A baby alien fucking mermaid.

The weird feeling on his ears are actually fins and the plants he thought he got stuck on his arms are also fucking fins.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Toms.” Wilbur croons, the note so soothing that Tommy’s panicking seems to stutter in his chest. He blinks, breathing deeply, practically panting, as he stares up at Wilbur’s blurry face. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know about being a mer, okay? I’ve got you.”

Tommy pauses for only a moment, mouth agape before he screeches, again.

It’s the only sound he seems to be able to make, but still, Tommy forces the words to leave his throat, awkward and stilted and more than a little panicked as the water goes down his lungs again but doesn’t hurt.

Tommy tries to lurch out of Wilbur’s hold, but he can barely move and the hands keeping him gently pinned to the mer’s chest are unyielding. The best Tommy can do is wiggle violently, tail swishing awkwardly and uncoordinated while his fins flare. Both actions feel horribly, horribly foreign.

“What the fuck did you do to me?!” He screams, but the words aren’t quite intelligible.

Thankfully, or rather un-thankfully, Wilbur seems to understand.

The mer chuckles smoothly, lowering his head so it looks like he’s some doting father holding his baby in some comforting hug.

“I’ll admit, you had me fooled for a while.” He says. “I had no idea you were human when I first asked my sire to make a potion to turn you into a mer. It took a blood sample for me to finally figure it out.” Wilbur chuckles again. “But luck must’ve been on my side, to think I could bring my son home so easily…”

Wilbur trails off, lifting his head back up and Tommy stares at him with a horrified look. Even through his blurry vision, Tommy can see the possessive, adoring look on the mer’s face, something so dark and pleased and loving that he can’t help but tremble in fear.

“I couldn’t just let you leave me.” He whispers, tone tense as though the mere thought burns him. “You belong with your family, not on some spaceship working as a delivery boy. I can take care of you, you’ll want for nothing.”

“Fuck you.” Tommy hisses, and this time the words actually make sense.

Tommy continues to try and struggle, beating his new tail even if it gets him nowhere and the limb still doesn’t respond right at all.

Wilbur only snorts, letting out an amused, warning croon that has the back of Tommy’s brain tingling unhappily. But it’s small enough that he can shove it down.

“Don’t do that Toms,” Wilbur huffs, still amused and completely unmoved by Tommy’s attempts at escape. His hold continues to keep Tommy in place without a problem. “The ocean is a very dangerous place for a mer pup.”

Tommy hisses as loud as he can, the noise is definitely inhuman and more than a little jarring, but he doesn’t care. He can feel the way his fins rattle without his permission, tail snapping back and forth as he struggles more and more. It’s ultimately useless, but Tommy doesn’t stop, digging his tiny talons into Wilbur’s chest as he tries to push off of him.

Wilbur only sighs, an ear fin flicking casually before he makes a horrifying noise.

It’s a sharp, clicking sound. Like one of those Earth dolphins, Tommy used to listen to on the communicators in the orphanage. Except, this is deeper, sharper like someone just took Tommy’s heart and fucking stabbed it. Everything in him tells him to stop. Stop struggling, be still, be still, be still.

Tommy’s limbs lock up against his will, frozen as his breath catches in his throat like a strangled chirrup.

He trembles, pulling his hands against his chest as he presses into Wilbur’s, irrationally seeking some sort of comfort or reassurance or something, Tommy doesn’t even know himself. All he knows is that if he doesn’t listen to the clicking sound—be still—something bad is going to happen or Wilbur is going to make that noise again and he’ll be in trouble.

Even though Tommy shouldn’t fucking care about that but he can’t stop the way he obeys the warning. The—the fucking scolding.

Scolding? Fucking hell, is this some mer thing? How the hell does he know what that sound means?

“It’s alright, Toms.” Wilbur croons and the sound has the tense apprehension in Tommy’s chest loosening into relief. “Just relax, I’ve got you. We’re going home now, okay? It’ll be a long trip, do you wanna take another nap?”

Tommy chirps fearfully, shaking his head against the mer’s collarbone as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Wilbur croons again when Tommy begins to tremble, the noise has him going lax against his will as the mer begins to swim off, deeper into the ocean and far, far from the dock above.

Adjusting to speaking underwater is the easy part, in Tommy’s opinion. But swimming with his new tail is annoyingly difficult. In fact, Tommy can barely move well at all, his limbs are all uncoordinated and he can barely even move his damn carrot fingers right.

Which, speaking of, is entirely because that fucking potion turned him into a baby. He literal damn baby.

Tommy had caught a glimpse of himself when Wilbur stopped for the night at some fucking—Tommy doesn’t even know what. A hotel for mer or some shit? Wilbur had to buy a room and everything. It looks like a regular hotel room, with a bed, fucking couches, a bathroom, and their weird dumb waterproof electronics. Everything is like a normal hotel. The only difference is that it’s under-fucking-water, and the entire building is built into a giant cave, but—

It doesn’t really matter, the point is, Tommy got to get a good look at himself in a mirror and he’s quite literally a toddler. All round-faced and wide-eyed. Even his fucking ear fins are too big for his body, just like all of his other fins, and he has tiny nubs on his forehead that Wilbur, the fucking bastard, said would also grow into horns one day.

Tommy had tried to use his new baby body to his advantage, attempting to blackmail Wilbur into turning him back. Surely a toddler, pup, whatever, with the mental age of a teenager would raise questions, but somehow that’s also normal because mer age slow as fuck and Tommy’s mental age is well within the right developmental range of a baby mer.

Wilbur had cooed over that a lot, saying that Tommy really was meant to be his son since everything, including Tommy’s fucking age, lined up perfectly for Wilbur to take and turn him into a mer as young as he is. Something about how it’ll be easier for him to adjust at his age. Since if he was an adult, he’d have to go through growing larger, and the process taking longer, and blah blah blah.

The comment made Tommy fucking scream and Wilbur, the bastard, had to do his dumb crooning bullshit to calm him down before dragging him into his arms and the weird circular mer bed to sleep for the night.

But while Wilbur had said Tommy is growing and developing just as he should in his new body, he still doesn’t know how to swim right, when other pups his age have a very good grasp on it.

Which, again, is entirely the potion’s fucking fault. He wouldn’t have had this problem in the first place if Wilbur didn’t turn him into a fucking mer.

However, that unfortunately leads him to now.

They’re doing goddamn swimming lessons in some dune of sand and sea grass and it’s the most embarrassing thing Tommy has ever fucking experienced in his life.

Wilbur has both of Tommy’s tiny hands help up in his own, the mer hovering over him as he guides the pup forward. Swimming so so slowly so Tommy can get the feel of moving his tail and extra fins and won’t flip onto his side as he had been without Wilbur’s help.

It’s a position he’s seen before at the orphanage, where the caretakers would hold up the hands of a toddler to keep them upright as they toddled along.

Tommy’s face is practically flaming, redder than a tomato as he struggles to get his tail moving the way it should be. It’s beyond frustrating and embarrassing, he keeps trying to kick like he has two legs but he doesn’t and it causes his tail to jerk awkwardly.

Trying to swim by himself just has him flipping over and flailing without direction. Wilbur is the only thing keeping him steady and if getting better at swimming means getting help from Wilbur then fine. He’ll become the best at swimming ever and once he doesn’t need the mer helping him along like a goddamn baby trying to learn how to walk, he’ll ditch the fucker and get back to the dock.

“Why don’t we stop for today?” Wilbur cuts in gently. It’s still weird to hear his voice clearly and not muffled like the usual whisper, even if it was loud back then. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually, but I don’t want you getting any tail cramps.”

Tommy scowls, turning his head up to glare at the giant mer looming over him. Wilbur is still holding up his hands, and the pup tugs on one of the mer’s hands insistently.

“No,” He says, tone edging far too close to a petulant whine. “I want to keep trying.”

Even if Tommy’s vision is still blurry as shit, he’s going to get the hang of this and return to the docs so Puffy can help him reverse this stupid potion and they can ditch this stupid planet and never come back.

Wilbur tsks, pulling Tommy up by his hands in a swift motion. So fast that the pup feels himself floating in the water for barely a second as Wilbur lets go of his hands right before he wraps his arms around him.

The mer flips onto his back, stomach up, and Tommy sputters as he’s cradled against Wilbur’s chest. Thankfully, he’s not also flipped over, but even if he tries to use his hands to push off of Wilbur’s body, the mer’s hold is like gentle steel. Completely unyielding as usual, no matter what Tommy tries to get away.

“Yeah, I think that’s enough for today.” Wilbur hums, his voice like music as he beats his tail once and sends them both drifting through the water with ease. “You sound like you need to rest, it’s not good to get so worked up, mate.”

“Fuck off.” Tommy hisses, wiggling against the arms that hold down his back. He beats his tail wildly, clawing at Wilbur’s chest even when his tiny talons do nothing. His fins flare, a rattle at the back of the pup's throat as he raises his tail to—

Tommy chokes on a pain-filled chirp, squeezing his eyes shut as a sharp and sudden pain shoots up his tail and spine and has his sail flaring in alarm. He trembles from how badly it hurts, and he can barely even twitch the damn limb. Instead, he lets it hang limp, hoping the pain will ebb away, but it still doesn’t stop the ache, and Tommy grits his teeth as another chirp slips past clenched jaw.

Immediately, Wilbur is gathering him up closer. The mer beats his tail once so he’s upright, holding the pup up higher against his chest with just one arm. Wilbur tucks Tommy’s face against the side of his throat with his free hand, going on further to get him to wrap his arms around the mer’s neck and Tommy does so if only to have something to hold.

He squeezes the other tightly, as though somehow it could lessen the pain, as Wilbur’s free hand moves down to massage the sore muscles in his tail.

Tommy flinches at the contact, swallowing thickly as the giant fingers gently rub circles into the sore muscles, pressing down just hard enough that it hurts, but in a way that has the ache slowly fading.

Wilbur croons softly, chin ducking down just a little so it barely rested against the back of the pup's shoulder. Like some sort of weird hug, in a way.

Begrudgingly, it does feel nice and Tommy slowly begins to relax as the pain dissipates.

“That,” Wilbur starts, his tone amused. “Is why we need to take breaks.”

Tommy scowls, his face flushing deeply, and he presses his face further into the crook of Wilbur’s neck.

“Fuck off.” He hisses, utterly embarrassed.

Wilbur snorts in amusement.

“The pain will go away completely soon, just don’t move around too much and you’ll be fine.” He says. “We’ll go back to the hotel and rest again before moving on.”

Wilbur moves his hand to the upper-half of Tommy’s tail, using it to keep a better hold on him as the hand at the pup's back begins to soothe down his spine and sail. It’s annoyingly nice, but Tommy does nothing besides grumble, lifting his head just a little so he can glare over the bigger mer's shoulder.

The world is still blurry, bright colors of sand and color and sea grass dot his vision, especially the abyss that is the distant ocean.

Wilbur says his sight will clear in another week, and Tommy doesn’t know if he has the time to wait for it. For all he knows, Puffy might’ve left already and there will be no one at the docks who’d be willing to help him.

The pup gulps at the thought, ignoring the way Wilbur lifts his chin off of his back and begins to swim.

He has to get back to the dock, he has to.

After another day of Tommy’s failed swimming practice, Wilbur brings him fresh fish. Like, a still whole fish that he caught himself, rather than the nicely cut-up slabs and seasoned chunks he’s gotten from whatever town or settlement they’re passing by.

They’re in another hotel, so Tommy isn’t sure why Wilbur hunted something himself, nor does he really care. What he does care about is that the fucker is trying to feed it to him instead of just giving it to him like a normal fucking person.

Though, maybe he shouldn’t be comparing Wilbur to anything normal.

It’s not like this is the first time Wilbur has fed him instead of just giving him something so he can eat it himself. No, they’ve done this song and dance multiple times now, but that doesn’t mean Tommy isn’t still annoyed by it.

Wilbur has had him pick the food off the end of his talon instead. That is unless it’s something on a skewer or in one of their weird bottles. All because of something dumb about how his hands are too dirty and his talons are too short to stab into his food properly.

Which is stupid, because apparently, mer don’t have goddamn forks and just use their talons to pierce and eat their food. Something, something, the tiny scales on their hands make it so gross bacteria growing around and under said scales can be harder to clean off. Using talons is much safer since they're merely long, seamless keratin. Incredibly easy to clean and stab food with. Forks and the like are just apparently too hard to use when someone's claws are half the length of their fucking fingers.

Of course, Tommy’s talons are too short, but it’s only been a few days at best. They wouldn't grow out that fast, so he’s resorted to just shoving food in his mouth with his hands whenever he gets the opportunity. Much to his delight and Wilbur’s annoyance.

Except, he can’t do that with an entire fucking fish.

“Couldn’t you have just bought something?” Tommy complains petulantly, sitting in the center of another dumb round mer bed. Apparently, they’re all round because mer like to curl into circles like fucking cats and because, in Wilbur’s words, in mer culture, a family sleeps curled up together.

Which is such bullshit.

“And let you shove it into your mouth with your grubby little hands?” Wilbur snorts as he hovers just at the side of the bed, flaying the fish away from it so no bones or scales fall onto the soft fabric. “No, I wasn’t going to buy anything else. Besides, you haven’t had fresh fish yet, so think of it like a new experience.”

Wilbur is a bit too far away for Tommy to see his expression clearly, but he can make out the slight twitch to the bigger mer's lips and immediately he scowls deeper.

“You don’t need to feed me like a goddamn baby, asshole,” The pup says with a slight growl to his tone.

Wilbur pauses, head tilting to the side, and through his blurry vision, Tommy can just make out the considering look on the mer’s face. Hope shoots through his chest, and Tommy’s fingers twitch as Wilbur leans in closer, holding out the partially flayed fish.

“You can try, then.” The mer says, his tone light, but odd. Tommy doesn’t pay it any mind, too eager to get to eat his own food. “Come closer, I don’t want to sleep with tiny bones and scales poking my back.”

Tommy rolls his eyes but scoots forward until he’s at the edge of the round bed, finally able to see Wilbur’s face and the fish with only minimal blurring.

Wilbur lowers the fish into Tommy’s hands, it’s heavy, but not enough enough to where the pup can’t pull it down to his lap with ease. It’s a big fucking fish too, maybe around the size of Tommy’s own tail, with a tall body and gross-looking head.

He pointedly doesn’t look at its very, very dead eyes.

Tommy pokes the scales, trying to wiggle a too-short talon under them like he’s seen Wilbur do before. He can barely even lift one up in order to get under it, not like Wilbur who slices his talons across them like a knife and peels off whole strips of scales in one go. The scales even hurt his fingers too, poking into his own, much softer, scales and skin.

“Why don’t you go cut off some meat from the area I already exposed.” Wilbur encourages gently. And while Tommy doesn’t want to listen to him, he does so anyway because the fucker is annoyingly right in that it would be easier for him to get something from there rather than trying to peel off more scales.

But, when he tries to go through the flesh where Wilbur has already peeled off the skin and scales, his talons aren’t long enough to cut it nicely and instead just ribbons the meat until it looks gross and unappetizing. Like disgusting little flesh strings that, while still connected, sway slightly in the water. It looks nothing like the nice chunks Wilbur would cut out.

Tommy feels his bottom lip wobble in frustration and a part of him is tempted to just lean down and rip a chunk from it with his teeth. But the scales would slice up his gums and the bones would no doubt hurt to eat. He’d probably even choke on them.

Wilbur gently takes the fish from Tommy’s lap, and, for once, the pup doesn’t fight him on it, feeling far too upset and frustrated as his eyes water. Because apparently mer can cry here, but their tears aren’t salty, so they float upwards like little bubbles of fresh water.

Tommy sniffles, feeling more than a little overwhelmed as Wilbur croons softly, easily cutting off a small bit of meat and holding it out on the end of his talon for the pup to take.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur says quietly, gentle like soft waves upon a shore. “You’ll get the hang of it one day, when you’re a little older. But for now, I’ll help you.”

The mer holds the bite of food on his talon closer, and Tommy slowly takes it from him with his teeth. Too tired to try and rush to grab it with his hands only to then shove it into his mouth anyway.

Wilbur croons, pleased, and Tommy slumps, feeling pathetic as he lowers himself to lie on the bed, tail curling in front of him as he rests his hands on it, and then his chin. Keeping himself in a tiny ball as Wilbur holds out another tiny cube of fish meat. One he takes again with another sniffle.

However, in the back of his mind, Tommy can feel his stupid new mer instincts coo happily, more than a little pleased that Wilbur is taking care of him and giving him good food. It always happens during moments like this, especially when the mer curls around him at night or makes sure his stomach is full. It’s annoying, but it makes him sleepy, a feeling that Tommy tries to brush off like usual.

It doesn’t work.

He's already emotionally exhausted from his failed attempt at flaying his own fish, so he could feed himself for once, and swimming practice certainly didn’t help to make him any less tired.

Wilbur sets the fish off to the side, gently lifting Tommy into his arms and cradling him against his chest. The pup grumbles, but he’s too tired to put up much of a fight, sluggishly picking off the next bite of meat from Wilbur’s talon and chewing slowly.

Tommy shakes his head, trying to wake himself up as a confused and scared chirp slips past his lips. He doesn’t want to sleep just yet, but Wilbur warbles at him, the sound tugging at something in the back of his head.

“It’s alright, you did a lot today, especially with swimming practice.” The mer whispers gently. “Just take a nap, Toms. We’ll head off when you wake up.”

Tommy wiggles, trying to push himself from Wilbur’s grasp, but he can barely move. All that he can do is twitch, and it’s hard to even do that when Wilbur is so warm. Tommy doesn’t want to pull away from him, but he knows he should.

He practically melts when Wilbur croons happily, whining in confusion at the way he seems to simply relax under the sound. All his worries drift away on a current he can’t swim after.

“You’re alright,” Wilbur whispers gently, and Tommy can smell another cube of fish hovering above his mouth. He blinks, eyes fluttering open. He doesn’t remember closing them, but he doesn’t care at the moment, either. “There’s nothing to worry about, Toms. Just finish this last piece and then you can nap, okay?”

Yeah… a nap sounds nice right now, really nice, actually.

Tommy takes the last cube of fish off of Wilbur’s talon, chewing sleepily. This surely isn’t normal. Probably. But he’s too tired to care, so it wouldn’t be bad if he just… lets Wilbur take over for a little bit, right?

Just for now, until Tommy can figure out some way to escape all of this and get back to the docks.

Yeah, that sounds good. He can just—nap. Until then.

When Tommy wakes up, it’s a slow sort of thing, falling in and out of consciousness. Aware enough to know that he should get up but not really wanting to before falling back asleep again.

It’s like he just feels far too safe and too comfortable to care about anything else, even ignoring the weird vibrations coming from his chest. An odd sort of warble that Tommy’s never heard from himself before. It can’t be that important, though. After all, with this stupid mer body, he’s been making a lot of weird noises he’s never made before.

This one though… it feels different. And not in the way his chest vibrates, because it’s probably coming from Wilbur instead of his own chest, but he feels almost… content.

Like nothing is wrong and that is certainly enough to wake Tommy up.

He blinks slowly, squinting his eyes even if it won’t help to clear his blurry vision, and turns to see what he’s lying on.

Per usual, it’s Wilbur’s chest. He’s being fucking cradle, like usual. Like a fucking baby, also like usual. However, instead of being able to pull back, again, like usual, Tommy finds that he can’t move.

Or, as he should say, he can move, but he doesn’t want to. He can barely even jerk at the thought of pulling back like everything in him doesn’t want to let go. It reminds him of being woken up by Puffy in the early mornings, thinking to himself that he should get up but can’t force himself to do it.

The thought has Tommy’s breath stuttering, the vibrations in his chest falling still, as does the weird warbles.

It takes Tommy a minute to realize that he’s the one who’s been making those noises and the vibration, not Wilbur, and that it sounds far too much like fucking purring and the noises Wilbur would make when he’s particularity happy.

Said mer shifts, hugging the pup closer with a delighted croon that has Tommy’s heart fucking soaring and new instincts warbling excitedly.

It’s a mess of confusing emotions that leaves him stumbling and gaping like a fish, utterly flabbergasted yet jovial.

“You imprinted,” Wilbur breathes in awe, blurry golden eyes wide and Tommy swears that he can see a hint of tears in them. The mer genuinely looks like he’s about to cry and Tommy can do nothing but stare at him in blatant, startled confusion.

Thankfully, or rather sadly, Wilbur clarifies for him.

“We’re pod now,” He says, sounding choked up. “You’ve finally accepted me as your family, your father. I’m safe enough that your instincts have latched on back.”

Wilbur continues to ramble like he’s just received the best news in his entire life. Cooing and chirruping, even warbling more than once as he goes on and on. Tommy is sure that the bastard is crying too, those sappy, happy sort of tears, but he isn’t focused on that. No, what he’s focused on is the fact that he’s imprinted. On Wilbur.

Tommy knows what imprinting is, mer aren’t the only species to do it. More than a few members of Puffy’s crew were species that could imprint, but that was… that’s something special. Something one only does with someone they consider family. It’s not something that just happens, it takes time and effort to imprint on someone or to get someone to imprint back.

The way Wilbur’s talking—that he’s already imprinted on Tommy but—

Surely Tommy didn’t imprint back. He can’t consider Wilbur as family. That can’t be possible, there’s no way.

“You…” Tommy gapes and Wilbur pauses to his tearful, sappy rambling to listen. “You’re lying! That isn’t true! That- I don’t view you as family, as my fucking dad, there’s no fucking way!”

Wilbur doesn’t seem upset by Tommy’s denial at all, instead, he merely croons. Leaning forward to nuzzle the top of the pup’s head with his nose, hugging him impossibly closer as though he were afraid to lose him. It’s not malicious fear, but it feels far too close to a parent hugging their child tightly because they’re being far too cute.

“You would have never made those sounds if you didn’t view me as your pod, your family,” Wilbur whispers reverently like Tommy has hung the moons above their heads.

Tommy gapes, face flushing a bright red.

Unwillingly, his mind goes back to the sounds Wilbur would make too. The warbles and chirrups and purr-like noises that he’s not once made to anyone else. Sure, he’s heard Wilbur croon and chirp at other mer before, but never once has he heard him trill or chirr at anyone but Tommy.

Oh gods, when the fuck did it start? How long has Wilbur been imprinted on him? How has he never fucking noticed? How long has the bastard been planning this whole thing?

And now Tommy has imprinted on Wilbur and that’s—

“That isn’t possible!” He still denies, viciously shaking his head. “I wasn’t a mer for that long! That doesn’t—!”

Wilbur lets out a weird noise, like a warbling croon that pitches higher than usual. Something that sounds like it’s calling him and Tommy can’t stop the way he answers back with a little chirp. He slaps a hand over his mouth soon after with wide eyes.

Tommy gapes behind his palm in horror as Wilbur grins, golden eyes practically glowing in smug, amused delight. As though the molten color is telling him, I told you so.

Wilbur’s expression softens into something gentle soon after, a loving tinge to his eyes that has Tommy’s breath hitching quietly.

“It’s alright,” The mer says softly. “You’re okay, you don’t have to be scared.”

Wilbur croons as though he's whispering a promise, a prayer that the universe itself bares witness to.

“You’re my son, and I’ll protect you for as long as time itself.”

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take much longer for Wilbur to drag Tommy off to wherever the fuck they’ve been headed.

It’s been a fairly long trip, at least, in terms of how many days they’ve been moving. Wilbur has been making them take breaks more often than not, either to sleep, eat, or practice swimming. Tommy swears that they’ve been staying at stupid hotels more than they’ve been moving.

Still, that doesn’t mean they’re not getting closer and closer to the destination, and no matter how hard Tommy tries to struggle and fight, he can’t do much with the heaviness in his bones and his stupid mer instincts being far too content to stay with Wilbur. The fucking bastard. Even when Tommy does manage to get away for a few moments, his dumb hindbrain throws a goddamn fit and won’t calm down until the mer scoops him up.

It’s embarrassing as hell. More than embarrassing, actually. It’s downright mortifying, but at least Wilbur has the decency not to tease him about it.

Though, Wilbur's cooing and crooning might be worse than teasing. Tommy knows it’s just to calm his wailing instincts, but he does not like being warbled at like he’s a fucking baby! The wailing in his head would have to go away eventually, right?

Ugh, Tommy doesn’t know, but it doesn’t stop him from trying.

At least, it didn’t stop him from trying until now.

Tommy can feel the way his instincts stir, confused but intrigued as they slowly move into warmer waters. Just like when they’d pass through towns and cities, it was almost like going through an invisible barrier.

Tommy lifts his head from where he’d been hiding it in the crook of Wilbur’s neck, squinting his eyes as he tries to see where they are.

The blurriness in his vision has faded more, and it’s easier to make out basic shapes and colors and he can even see shadows now. But wherever they are, it isn’t some city or town.

No, from the fuzzy colors and lighting, it looks like a reef. A giant fucking reef, actually.

There are archways of rock and coral that are much, much bigger than Wilbur. There are pillars of white rocks too, covered in some sort of sea life, while sea grass sways across the sands. There are even tall stalks of kelp clump together in little patches. So tall that they almost reach the surface of the water. There are blurs of color zooming by, too. No doubt they're schools of fish swimming in and out of the giant caves and looming cliffs.

A whole bunch of them swim around the two mer, unbothered by the giant fucking predator swimming through their masses. Still, Tommy can’t help but gasp in awe when a few of them gently graze the top of his head, brushing past the tiny bumps of horns growing from his hairline.

Even blurry, it’s fucking magical, and more than a little beautiful.

But it doesn’t take long for Tommy to spot what looks like a fucking underwater mountain.

There are schools of fish swimming around it, some big and some small. There are even a few lone fish too, definitely bigger than him, but not bigger than Wilbur. Tommy can’t really make them out, but he can see the slight grays of a few of those ugly dog-like fish he’d seen so long ago at the docks.

Curiously, some of the other fish huddle in groups in the small crevices and caves of the mountain, hiding out around the coral and sea life. Tommy can even spot, what he assumes to be, giant fucking clams and he’s fairly certain one just ate a fish.

Are clams supposed to eat fish? Tommy doesn’t know, but his thoughts are no longer focused on that.

No, instead, Tommy is much more worried about the giant entryway near the base of the mountain. There are pillars carved out of some blue-colored stone, a thick mantel overhead in the same color, and some weird sort of tiled floor on the bottom. No doubt it’s the door to something.

Tommy tightens his grip on Wilbur’s shoulder, short claws digging into skin and scales but much too weak to pierce anything.

The entire reef has suddenly turned from beautiful and magical, to ominous and terrifying.

“It’s alright,” Wilbur says softly, hugging Tommy closer in an attempt to comfort him. “We’re almost home, you can see it, can’t you?”

Tommy’s breath hitches, gripping Wilbur’s shoulder even tighter. It doesn’t make him feel much better, but it does offer some sort of stability. Even if it does come from the fucking bastard.

“I—” Tommy swallows thickly, the words dying on his tongue. I don’t wanna go, he wants to say, but he can’t force the words out of his throat. Too mixed up in a feeling of awe and terror.

“It’s okay, nothing is going to happen,” Wilbur reassures gently, but Tommy is too tense to feel anything about it. “I told them all about you and they’re very excited to meet you.”

Tommy sputters, unable to form the words on his tongue even while his face flushes pink. Wilbur croons a little laugh, fond and amused.

“Don’t worry.” He says. “They’re going to love you, just like I do.”

“Piss off,” Tommy scowls, ear-fins pinned back awkwardly.

Wilbur laughs again, jostling Tommy just a bit as he does so. It makes him scowl deeper in response, raising a hand to slap the large mer’s shoulder, but the other doesn’t seem that bothered at all. Instead, he just laughs louder.

“Relax,” He says. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

“None of this is fine,” Tommy hisses, fins flaring furiously. “You fucking kidnapped me and turned me into a damn mer!”

Wilbur hums, soothing down the sail on Tommy’s back. “I did,” He says, completely unbothered. “I had to make sure you could stay, I couldn’t just let my son fly off into space.”

“I- you-!” Tommy sputters angrily, shifting to pull back so he can whack the absolute bastard with his tail.

He thought they were friends. Sure, Tommy didn’t want to leave him, but he didn’t want it to come to this either. He—if Wilbur had just said, if he hadn’t tricked him, maybe Tommy would’ve said yes. Maybe he would’ve stayed without being fucking kidnapped.

Trembling, Tommy falls silent. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to bleed, a feat much easier with the sharpness of his new teeth.

Wilbur warbles gently, squeezing Tommy close for just a moment before loosening his grip.

Eventually, after a moment of tense silence, the bigger mer lets out a loud, calling croon. Tommy jolts in surprise at the sound of it, chirping a response before he can stop himself and immediately hiding his face in the crook of Wilbur’s neck. His cheeks absolutely flaming red.

Wilbur coos a warm warble in response, amusement dripping from the sound.

“Shut up.” Tommy hisses, slapping the mer’s shoulder again with his hand.

Said mer only hugs him closer in response, pressing a kiss into the side of the pup’s hair. Tommy opens his mouth to tell the bastard to fuck off, ready to tear off Wilbur’s damn ear-fins, but before he can, a new croon echoes through the water.

This one is deeper by a notch or two, effortlessly carrying through the ocean, and Tommy absolutely freezes in fear. The rumble sends shivers down his spine, scales practically trembling as each fin stands on end. Still, Tommy can’t help but lift his head and peer over his shoulder in terrified curiosity.

Wilbur only coos, hand soothing down the pup’s sail again. “It’s alright,” He murmurs. “That’s just Technoblade. Techno, remember? You’ve heard me tell stories about him before. He’s your uncle.”

That certainly does nothing to make Tommy feel better. Rather, it only serves to make him more anxious, watching the blurry scene with a bated breath. He still can’t see the new mer, but he can certainly hear the additional croons and scarily deep trills.

He doesn’t even get the chance to smother the chirps of fear the second he spots the blurry outline of the newcomer, of Technoblade, coming closer. Even from a distance, Tommy can tell that this fucker is massive, even compared to Wilbur. Red scales practically glisten like blood under the flickering light, not at all helped by the contrast of the mer’s pale skin.

Immediately, Tommy tries to pull away from Wilbur. His heart pounding so hard in his chest that he swears the mer can hear it.

However, Wilbur doesn’t let him go and instead pulls him closer. Cradling the pup closely against his chest while Tommy ducks his head under the side of the mer’s chin. Watching with wide, horrified eyes as Technoblade gets closer and closer. Looming forward as he croons again, all but shaking the water around them.

Thankfully, the bigger mer only leans forward to rest his forehead against Wilbur’s. A hand cupping the back of his brother’s neck with a deep rumble.

“You’re late,” He says, with a voice just as baritone as Tommy had been expecting.

Wilbur only laughs in response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm Tommy, we had to take it slow.”

That, finally, seems to draw Technoblade’s attention to the pup in question. The massive mer finally pulls away, peering down at Tommy who merely stares at him in absolute horror.

Now that he’s close enough to see clearly, Tommy notes that the bastard has eyes as red as his scales. All but glowing in the shade of his face. His hair is pink, too. Long strands flowing in the water and around curved, pearlescent horns. They’re similar to Wilbur’s own, crown-like with arrow-shaped tips, but they curl a tad more. With the two most prominent horns each having an extra tine splitting off them in the front like those deer from Earth.

Technoblade’s ear-fins are covered in piercings as well, ranging from studs to the dangling type of jewelry that Wilbur also wears. Though the amount of them is more tasteful rather than overbearing, maybe four on each fin at most.

Still, the massive mer then bends closer, looming over Tommy, who flinches back against Wilbur’s chest. Wiggling in a vain attempt to get away with a terrified chirp.

Technoblade croons, the sound reverberating through Tommy’s very bones. He reaches forward, ignoring the way the pup twitches, and gently cups the side of his face. Grazing a thumb over Tommy’s cheek softly.

“You’re smaller than I had been expecting.” He says, and Tommy blinks, utterly baffled at the comment. Before he quickly grows indignant.

“Why do you think it took us so long to get here,” Wilbur cuts in before Tommy has a chance to speak up. “I wanted to make sure he was safe.”

Tommy wants to roll his eyes at that, distinctly remembering how overbearing Wilbur could be. But he doesn’t dare glance away from the hulking mer in front of him, especially not when he’s still got a hand on the damn pup’s face.

“Alright,” Technoblade hums after a moment. “We should get inside, Phil is waiting.”

Wilbur scoffs, and though Tommy can’t see it, he’s sure the mer rolled his eyes too. “He could’ve just come outside and greeted us himself too, you know.”

“He’s busy preparing the nest.”

However, much to Tommy’s horror, Wilbur pulls away from the pup. Leaning forward to hand him off to his brother, Tommy can do nothing but freeze. Limbs unwilling to move as Technoblade gently shifts him around, crooning when the pup chirps in horror.

Tommy tries to move, to struggle, to do something, but he can barely even twitch. Whimpering when the giant mer croons again, this time with Wilbur joining.

“You’re alright,” Technoblade murmurs, his deep voice rumbling smoothly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“He’s safe, Toms.” Wilbur chips in. “He’s family.”

He’s not family, Tommy wants to say. Even Wilbur isn’t his fucking family, but the words are stuck in his throat. Caught around the heart that beats within his jugular. The only sound he’s able to make is another strangled whine.

But Technoblade cradles him close. A gentleness that Tommy wouldn’t have expected just by looking at the mer. Letting the pup tuck his head under his chin, hiding his face in the crook of his neck as Wilbur swims forward. Easily leading them down into the dark shadow of the mountain’s entrance.

Aside from the darkness shrouding his vision, Tommy is too scared to lift his head away from Technoblade’s throat. He trembles while they move through the darkness, the hand gently brushing through his hair doing nothing to soothe the anxiety in his chest.

Still, he can see bits and pieces of where they are. A massive, tunnel-like hallway that’s been carved into the rock beautifully. The walls are smooth and etched with pictures of fish and plants and odd-looking letters. There seem to be things like constellations as well, but Tommy isn’t so sure, he’s never seen the ones on this planet.

However, he also quickly notices that the hallway isn’t nearly as long as he once thought. It doesn’t take them long to reach somewhere, but Tommy can’t tell where, exactly, that is.

To him, it looks similar to a regular house, not that he’s ever been in one, mind you. But he’d seen pictures and drawings of them in books back at the orphanage. It looks like a living room.

There are giant couches, tables, and chairs, things that are tailored specifically to a mer’s body. Just like the ones in the stupid hotels he and Wilbur would stay at. However, these feel much more… personal. Unlike the professional look of the furniture in the hotels, these are chipped and stained, well-loved and used, but comfortable in a way that Tommy has never experienced before.

There are electronics and books on bookshelves at the walls too, with a TV mantled over a shelf that sits right across from the biggest couch and some version of a coffee table. Tommy can even pick out some lamps, but instead of some fabric covering, it looks to be made out of large, carved-out pearls.

Maybe they collected them from those giant, fish-eating clams.

Tommy can spot other hallways, too. Ones that likely go off into other rooms while the glimpse of a kitchen peeks out from around the corner of the entrance hall. Again, looking like an underwater version of the homes he’d see in picture books.

However, whatever small bit of curiosity Tommy has, is quickly washed away the second they begin swimming down one of the halls.

Tommy chirps in terror, but the only response he gets are reassuring croons.

The next room they enter is only a tad smaller than the last. This one, however, is softer in light. With windows able to see outside of the mountain and strange lamps that don’t look like regular electricity.

Still, the thing that catches his eye most is the giant, circular bed in the center. Much bigger than the ones he’d see at the hotels and stacked full of blankets and plush covers. It could surely fit four mer with ease and looks far more nest-like than the stiff kinds of beds they’d have to pay to sleep in. Ones that were too similar to the ones he’d sleep in while staying at on-land hotels.

To Tommy’s horror, he can’t help but think it looks comfortable. Like he wants to curl within the blankets and covers, hiding in the soft bedding for as long as he desired. Something he never got to do back on the ship, always having to wake up at a certain time and get to work. He quickly strangles the thought before it can grow out of control. He is not going to curl up in some stupid nest-bed like a goddamn child in the house of the bastard who fucking kidnapped him.

Yet, that isn’t even Tommy’s biggest worry. Rather, what he is worrying about is the third new mer who swims forward from where he’d been idly carrying in more blankets from a closet.

He’s a bit blurry, but Tommy can make out his basic features. Blonde hair a shade lighter than the pup’s own, pale skin, black, iridescent scales, and short, sharp horns that match his two sons. Crown-like and pearlescent per usual, but shorter and lacking any arrow-shaped tips. In fact, this mer’s horns are more antler-like, with three tines coming off the most prominent horns and one off of the rest. Additionally, he doesn’t have as many piercings as his sons, two on one ear-fin and one on the other.

Though, notably, they all seem to have one earring in common. A large, blue-tinted emerald hanging from one of their ear-fins each and swaying slightly in the water.

“Hello,” The new mer croons excitedly, quickly dropping the excess blankets in the nest before floating closer. Now that he’s closer, Tommy can finally tell that he’s smaller than Wilbur and Technoblade. Though, that isn’t enough to stop the pup from letting out a scared chirp.

“Oh,” The newcomer murmurs. “I’m sorry, did I scare you? I won’t hurt you, promise.”

“It’s just Phil, Tommy.” Wilbur cuts in, hovering over Technoblade’s shoulder. “I’ve told you about him, too.”

Tommy, obviously, does not believe a single word the Phil—Philza fucker is saying. Instead, he wiggles furiously when the other leans closer, fighting against the unyielding arms that still have him gently cradled. Wilbur croons again, the familiar sound soothing some of the panic, but Tommy forces himself to ignore it.

The pup lashes out violently, whacking the mer harshly in the face with his tail. The sound echoes in the water like a death keel, silencing the little group.

It’s quiet, for a moment. Tommy is utterly frozen in shock as Philza merely blinks back.

Before he promptly bursts out laughing.

“Little shit,” He cackles fondly. “Wilbur did the same as a pup too, you know.”

“Yeah, every chance he got.” Technoblade chips in.

“Shut up—“

“It’s okay,” Philza says, reaching forward to soothe down the pup’s sail and crooning when Tommy tries to shrink away with a tiny whine. “No one here is going to hurt you, not ever. I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Tommy murmurs shakily, ignoring the sad warble Wilbur replies with.

“That’s okay,” The oldest mer hums calmly. “We’ll prove it.”

“You- you fuckers literally kidnapped me!” He hisses quietly, ear-fins pinning back when Wilbur reaches over Technoblade’s shoulder to rest a hand in the pup’s hair. The mer lets out a soothing warble that Tommy viciously ignores. Or tries to, anyway. It still has some of the tenseness in his muscles loosening.

“Yeah.” Philza shrugs, like that isn’t a fucking problem. “But you should get some rest, you’ve had a long few weeks.”

“I wonder fucking why—“ Tommy murmurs quietly, but quickly chirps in fear when Technoblade shifts forward, floating after Philza who had quickly swam back to the nest. The black-scaled mer had already lifted some of the blankets to the side, easily making room for them to curl into the plush bedding.

Wilbur all but dives into it, shimmying under a few sheets while Philza sits next to him, leaning down to rub his forehead against the other mer’s. Wilbur croons at the action, something that has Philza crooning back, and Tommy grimaces at the way his stupid instincts practically fucking preen at the sounds.

When Technoblade settles into the nest, however, the anxiety and fear hits him like a fucking ship. Hindbrain raging at being in an unknown nest, held by someone who isn’t his dumb parent. He can’t stop the way he squeaks in fear, tiny nails digging into Technoblade’s skin and scales the second the massive mer settles on his back, pup resting on his chest much like Wilbur would do.

Like those Earth sea otters that hold their babies on their bellies. Tommy grimaces at his own comparison, forcing a chirp back with a hiss when Wilbur curls over Techno’s like a lazing cat. His brother seemingly completely unbothered by the extra weight.

“It’s okay, they’re not doing anything, Toms,” Wilbur says gently, and Tommy only scowls in response, opening his mouth to give a scathing retort before someone fucking trills.

The sound has his brain going haywire, intrigued and furious at the same time. Utterly caught off guard by noise that definitely did not come from Wilbur.

Tommy whips his head around to stare at Philza with wide eyes, fins standing on end like a cat bristling its fur. Everything in him is screaming in conflict, unsure how to react to a mer that is not Wilbur, trilling at him like that. Especially when he knows that Philza has not imprinted on him.

Right?

Philza trills again, lying flat on his stomach in a way that makes him smaller than Tommy. It’s a weird feeling, being technically bigger than all of them. At least, that’s what it feels like to his instincts. It’s almost submissive and his hindbrain feels far too much at ease because of it. So much so that he can’t help the curious, contemplative warble.

Wilbur croons in approval, a sound that has one of Tommy’s ear-fins flicking in acknowledgment. He decidedly ignores that.

“Hey, mate,” Philza grins, and Tommy immediately scowls. “Aren’t you going to try and get some rest?”

“Piss off,” The pup hisses, hating the way he can already feel himself become less and less anxious.

Still, Tommy jolts when a heavy hand lands on his back, sparing Technoblade a wide-eyed glance as the massive mer peeks an eye open at him lazily. Like one of those Earth tigers getting ready to nap. Intimidating in every way, yet somehow not when he looks so… calm. And small, at least, to Tommy’s instincts.

“Relax,” Technoblade rumbles, huffing when Philza runs a hand through his long hair.

Tommy wants to protest, but the words die on his tongue when Wilbur starts to purr like the absolute bastard he is. Curling forward so he’s close enough to the pup that he can press his forehead against Tommy’s own. Hands snaking forward so he’s tucked close to the other’s shoulder, with Wilbur practically lying on the entirety of Technoblade’s chest. Though said mer doesn’t seem to mind, merely moving his hand off Tommy’s back to instead rest it on Wilbur’s.

For a moment, Tommy doesn’t feel sleepy at the sound at all. More like a content sort of hum in the back of his head, up until Technoblade starts to purr as well. The sound is much deeper than Wilbur’s, like a rumbling engine almost.

At first, Tommy jolts at the noise, instincts returning to that conflicted, contemplative state. But Wilbur cuts in before he can react, cooing soothingly just as Philza joins the fucking purr puddle.

It has his brain all weird, unsure but pondering, utterly encouraged by the comforting sounds Wilbur makes.

Tommy tries to ignore it, but with the way the anxiety and fear practically bleeds off him; it’s hard. He’s tired, really tired. Tension tumbles off him in waves, and he can feel the way his body begins to go limp, fins lying down and eyes fluttering against his will. A calloused hand touches his tail, it’s definitely not Wilbur's or Technoblade’s, but it’s not hard to figure out that it’s Phil.

The oldest mer doesn’t pull him or anything of the sort. Rather, it feels more like he’s straightening out fins and gently cleaning scales. Wilbur would do the same while stopped at a hotel. It’s a pleasant feeling, like someone brushing out your hair for you.

Tommy sleepily warbles a content noise, unbothered by the crooning trill he gets in response.

Instead, he lets himself drift. Unknowingly slipping off to sleep.

“This is fucking stupid.” Tommy scowls angrily, tempted to bite Philza’s fucking hands as the mer guides the pup through swimming.

Wilbur is back in the house doing something with Technoblade, fixing up furniture, and apparently, they’re trying to carve out a room into the mountain home. His room, to be exact. Which, actually, is not his room but Tommy isn’t going to complain if it means he only has to stay with one bastard for now.

Thankfully, at the very least Philza doesn’t guide Tommy like Wilbur does. Rather than looming over Tommy and holding his hands like a toddler, he floats below Tommy and a little ahead. Of course, he still holds the pup’s hands so he doesn’t fly off fucking course, but the position is more like one of a swimming teacher than anything else. It’s less intimidating for his instincts, at least. And this mer is much better at teaching him how to swim than fucking Wilbur is.

“You gotta learn how to swim properly, mate.” Philza only responds. “How are you going to get around the towns and cities if you can’t move on your own? And I don’t think you’d want us carrying you around all the time.”

“Piss off, I’m not going to any of those damn towns or cities.” Tommy hisses, tail twitching in an attempt to keep up with the mer without getting dragged along. “The only place I’m going is to the damn docks.”

“I’m well aware,” Philza hums, though it sounds less patronizing than the pup had been expecting. “You can certainly try as many times as you’d like. But we won’t give up easily, either. And we certainly won’t just give you an opening to run.”

“I’m not stupid,” Tommy all but snarls viciously, fins flaring. “I know that shit already, I’ll still get back to the docks.”

“I’m not saying this because I think you’re stupid.” The mer corrects, dipping backward slightly so the pup is forced to follow. Tommy pushes his tail up and down, grimacing a little when it still jerks for a second like he’s kicking human legs.

Still, Philza speaks up again. “I’m saying this because I know you’re not stupid. You and I both know you won’t try to run forever, you’re stubborn until it’s clear you can’t win.”

“You don’t even know me,” Tommy hisses, fins all but on edge to an almost painful degree.

“Not yet,” The older mer just shrugs, unbothered. “But Wilbur does.”

Tommy refuses to dignify that with a response, biting the inside of his cheek so hard it almost bleeds. But Philza continues to guide the pup along the waters. The mer twists slightly so they move at a curve and Tommy is forced to sway his tail in response. However, to his utter surprise and momentary delight, his body doesn’t jerk against the movement. Instead, he glides smoothly and Tommy blinks with wide eyes.

Only to scowl when Philza croons encouragingly. “Shut up,”

“You’re getting the hang of it,” The mer hums, trilling a short tune that has Tommy chittering angrily. It’s not because of his instincts, this time, though. Unfortunately, spending a few days with trilling, purring mer, and having Wilbur back them up was enough to get his hindbrain to chill the fuck out around them.

Thankfully, Tommy doesn’t think it’s an imprint just yet. But he also hasn’t been able to find out if they, Philza and Technoblade, actually imprinted on him or not. He’s never met them before, so he doesn’t see how it’d be possible. But he’s also never seen a mer purr or trill at someone they haven’t imprinted on.

“It’s been how fucking long since you assholes screwed me over?” Tommy scoffs. “I better be getting the damn hang of it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Philza hums, completely unbothered per usual like the bastard he is. “Do you wanna try giving it a shot by yourself?”

Tommy frowns, but considers it. He’s been getting a lot better at swimming with all of the extra practice now that they no longer have to pause all the time. When he and Wilbur were traveling here, there weren’t exactly a lot of opportunities to train with his damn tail and fins. He’d have maybe a few hours a day at most before stopping at a hotel to rest and then traveling long distances in the mer’s arms.

Now, however, without being carried all the time and being able to swim through the damn house by grabbing onto something, it isn’t nearly as hard as before.

He could probably do it, can’t he? He’s been fairing pretty well when he has something or someone to hold onto it, and his tail hasn’t cramped at all since he’d been brought here. Surely that must mean something, and if he doesn’t at least try to swim on his own, who knows when he’ll actually be able to get out of here?

If he tries to put it off for too long, it could take him weeks to flee.

“Fine,” He murmurs after a moment of silence, ignoring the way his heart drops the second Philza slowly lets go of his hands. Like a stone weighing down his gut, threatening to sink him.

Tommy floats for a moment, letting his, finally clear, eyes drift to the ground below. They’re outside of the stupid house. But they’re high up, too. Still close enough to see the sand and coral clearly, though that doesn’t make the oceans any less intimidating. Obviously, it’s not like being high up in the air or anything, Tommy won’t fall, but it’s still too similar for his brain. An irrational fear he hasn’t gotten over yet.

And one he will desperately need to when he finally escapes.

Though, at least, he could admit that the reef looked far more beautiful when he could actually see it clearly. The fish are pretty neat, too.

“You okay?” Philza murmurs, cutting through Tommy’s steadily declining thoughts. “We can take a break if you want.”

“I’m fine,” The pup scowls, flicking his gaze away from the ocean floor and coral. Instead, he glances at Philza, who’s now a few feet ahead of him.

The sight makes him a tad anxious, but Tommy ignores it in favor angling his tail like he was taught. He flares his fins just right, holding out his arms in front of him as he beats his tail.

“Alright,” The older mer hums, hands lifting up so they’re open if Tommy needs them. Not that he does, he’s totally got this. “Just do as we were practicing, remember the motions of your tail. Smooth back and forth, don’t kick. Once you get it down, it should come more naturally.”

“Shut up, shut up,” The pup grumbles, almost frantically flexing his fins a bit more as he drifts ever so slowly through the water. He ignores the way he wobbles dangerously. “I got it, stop being fucking annoying.”

“Alright, alright,” Philza merely laughs.

For a moment, Tommy worries he’s going to flip over again. He can feel his body tilt slightly, making his heart leap. But before he twirls onto his back, one of his tail fins flare to catch him on the water. Keeping him in the right position as he glides forward. This time, the ocean doesn’t tug at him weirdly, nor does his tail kick like he has legs. He’s moving. Like the other mer. Not flailing all over the place and needing to be picked up or rightened out.

It’s… nice. Smooth, like Philza had said. He doesn’t feel like he’s fighting a current or rushing waters. Rather, he feels like he’s flying. Gliding through the sky without a single problem in the world.

Immediately, almost as if a flip has been switched, Tommy beams.

His swimming is still a bit shaky, but he’s moving. He’s actually moving and getting somewhere, he barely wobbles as beats his tail again. Swimming past Philza who watches him with an expression that’s far too fond. Tommy ignores him, of course, curling his tail just like he’d done with the mer just moments ago.

He turns with ease, his body curling just right until he’s in front of Philza again. The older mer reaches out for him, without truly trying to grab him, and Tommy dodges the attempt with shaky ease. Much too preoccupied to notice the warm purr the other gives out.

“Little shit,” Philza croons without any malice. In fact, he sounds fondly amused.

Tommy can’t help the way he laughs in response, absolutely overjoyed.

He’s not stuck anymore. He’s moving!

“Good job,” Philza trills, and Tommy trills back without thinking about it. His heart is far too light and his are instincts far too excited to catch himself.

For a second, it feels like the very ocean pauses. Tommy slaps a hand over his mouth in horror, staring at the older mer with wide, appalled eyes. He floats in the water, all but stalled the second the damn sound left his throat. The only thing he gets in response is Philza’s bemused, yet pleasantly surprised, laugh.

“Shut up,” Tommy immediately hisses, fins flaring. “Don’t you dare say shit.”

“I’m not saying anything,” The mer hums in amusement, gliding forward with an effortless flick of his tail. Tommy doesn’t protest when Philza grabs one of his hands and glides backwards through the water, face flaming in red embarrassment when the other purrs. The sound pulls yet another trill out of him before the pup can stop it.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Tommy sputters angrily, waving his free hand around like he’s going to hit the damn bastard. He could, but it wasn’t like it’d fucking do anything.

Philza only laughs in response. Laughs in that dumb, chaotically fond cackle that he has.

Tommy slaps him in the side with his tail, hard.

“You’re definitely Wilbur’s kid.”

“Shut up!”

Tommy hates how time seems to fly without him noticing.

It’s already been a few days since the… Philza incident, as he’s now started to refer to it. But it’s been longer than Tommy would’ve liked. Too long. How much time does he have left until Puffy is just gone?

If she isn’t gone already.

Tommy… decidedly doesn’t want to think about that. Puffy wouldn’t leave him so soon. Surely not. He’s known her for years, she’d definitely try to contact someone to come and help him or at least wait to see if he’s coming back.

Gods, how long has it even been? He doesn’t… Tommy doesn’t even really know. A few days? Surely it’s been a week by now, maybe even a week and a half.

He shoves the thoughts away viciously, shaking his head to clear any remnants of things he doesn’t want to think about. He’s getting off this dumb planet, somehow.

“Hey,” Technoblade cuts in with a low rumble, pulling Tommy from his thoughts with ease. “Are you paying attention?”

“No,” Tommy rolls his eyes, gliding closer to where the massive mer is marking out places to chisel something into the stone walls of the room.

Technically, this is supposed to be his room. While mer all sleep in a nest together as a family, like fucking cats, which seems to be a running theme, they have different rooms for more personal shit. Wilbur, in particular, has a lot of musical instruments and records for their weird underwater electronics. Philza’s room just… looks like a regular room, and Technoblade’s room is more like a small library. Of course, there’s a bed in there too. All of the rooms have them, but they’re not really used that often.

Technoblade only sighs, penciling in another mark on the wall with some sort of white rock. “This is your room we’re trying to decorate, you know.”

“Sure,” Tommy scoffs. He has no plans for this to be his damn room. “Decorate it however you want, it’s going to be empty soon enough.”

“Right,” The mer only hums. “And why is that?”

Tommy scowls, swimming past Technoblade to circle the far too-large room. He ignores the bits of furniture here and there, dodging past two chairs, the couch, and the coffee table that makes up the dumb little seating area until he looms over the still-too-big bed. One that’s obviously made for grown mer, though admittedly Tommy likes the idea of having so much space.

It’s stationed against the far wall, though not completely pressed up against it just yet, and there are two weird end tables on each side. There aren’t any lamps, yet, but there are lights in the roof and Tommy knows they’ll add more shit later.

Supposedly, they’re going to be adding things like shelves and shit in here too, once the wall carving is done. But Tommy hopes he’ll be out of here before then, he’d rather not have to sit around hearing about what kinds of weird underwater books and shit they’ll wanna add.

“You fuckers kidnapped me, you think I’m just going to stay here?” The pup growls, immediately irritated at the fact that Technoblade does not seem all that bothered. In fact, Tommy would say the bastard looks amused.

“Your tenacity is endearing,” Technoblade drawls, finally moving away from the wall to loom over Tommy instead. “But don’t think we haven’t already planned for that, runt. Wilbur has told us all about how stubborn you are, and we’re certainly not stupid.”

“Kidnapping is pretty stupid.” Tommy points out.

“Only if you do it wrong,” Technoblade hums in amusement, ruffling Tommy’s hair before floating back to the wall. Leaving the pup to gape at him angrily.

“Literally fucking die.”

“Are you going to tell me what you want carved on your room walls yet?” The mer only sighs, making another white mark on said wall. “If you don’t decide soon, I’m just going to put down whatever.”

Tommy scoffs, ignoring Technoblade in favor of flopping onto the dumb bed. He shimmies under the blankets, curling into the warm fabric with an annoyed huff. Unlike blankets outside the ocean, these are dense and heavy, weighted by the water but still unfairly comfortable. Especially because it’s not like Tommy can feel that the blankets are soaking wet when he’s surrounded by the fucking sea, they’re just warm and cozy and stupidly soft. Absolute bullshit.

It’s silent, for a minute. The only sound in the room is Technoblade marking down the walls more. For a moment, Tommy wonders if he can just fall asleep and not have to deal with any of the bastards in this stupid house.

But of course, that can never seem to be the case.

From the distance, Tommy hears a low purr. The sound gets louder and louder until a large hand gently rests on the blanket that the pup is snuggled under.

“Stop fucking doing that,” Tommy hisses, ignoring the way his instincts perk up curiously.

“You already imprinted on Phil,” Technoblade points out, though the purr does not stop. “Wouldn’t be fair if I were the only odd one out.”

Immediately, Tommy pokes his head out from under the blankets with a dark look. Glaring at the large mer viciously as he raises his tail to try and slap the hand away. Very unfortunately, he can't reach while still mostly hidden in the bedding.

Technoblade’s mouth twitches in amusement at the action, and Tommy’s expression darkens even further.

“You fuckers aren’t imprinted on me, only Wilbur is. So suck it up.”

The mer tilts his head curiously. “Is that what you think?”

Tommy wiggles out of the blankets, brushing Technoblade’s hand away as he does so. The mer pulls back without a fight, completely unbothered.

“There’s no fucking way you two could’ve imprinted on me first.” The pup’s dark look evens out into something more confused. Definitely disbelieving. “I haven’t even met the two of you before this.”

“Eeeh,” Technoblade shrugs. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. Humans have those instincts with getting attached to babies and kids, right? Piglins have it for piglets and shotes too, it’s a bit like that for mer. When one of the pod imprints on a pup, it’s easier for the rest to do it too. The initial imprint is the most important one.”

“Humans don’t have instincts, though.” Tommy points out with a distracted huff, trying to think back on when they could’ve imprinted. Was it really that first day they came here?

Technoblade scoffs. “All species, sapient or not, have instincts. If they didn’t, they’d be extinct. You can’t survive without em, it’s like a predator who doesn’t have fear. Without that instinctual fear, they’ll keep being reckless until they die off one by one.”

“That’s dumb,” Tommy huffs, pressing his face into one of the countless pillows on the bed before peeking up at the massive mer again. “So when the hell did you imprint on me? It couldn’t have just been that first day Wilbur dragged me here.”

Technoblade hums, setting the white rock on the end table nearest to him. Tommy eyes it curiously, wondering if it's similar to chalk, but he knows that stuff breaks in water. So it’s likely some kind of limestone. Still, the mer settles next to the bed afterward, folding his arms on top of the plush pillows and resting his chin on top of them. Doing that dumb thing where he makes himself smaller so Tommy’s equally dumb instincts aren’t as anxious.

Tommy hates how well it fucking works. His dumb hindbrain practically coos at the sight, falling back into that usual considering state that he’s been feeling for, well, since that first fucking day here.

“You two spent over two months together, you think we didn’t start ordering things for your room the second Wilbur had imprinted?” Technoblade snorts in vague amusement. “We’ve seen you with Wilbur a few times while picking stuff up. He said he didn’t want us showing up though because we could make you too anxious.”

“I would not be scared,” Tommy glowers angrily. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t say scared, I said anxious.” The mer points out calmly before continuing. “But I guess you could say it was probably the day before Wilbur gave you that potion. It’s kinda hard not to imprint on your brother’s kid, especially after seeing you guys a few times.”

“That’s dumb,” Tommy grumbles, hiding his face in the pillows again. His voice is slightly muffled by all the fabric.

And while the pup can’t see it, he can certainly hear the way Technoblade shrugs.

“Just how instincts are. If Wilbur hadn’t imprinted, it would’ve been different. It would’ve taken far longer for us, and for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tommy huffs, not bothering to lift his head anymore.

“If you didn’t imprint on Wilbur, it would’ve been harder for you to imprint on Phil.” The mer rumbles, again sounding like a damn spaceship. Still, Tommy annoyingly doesn’t even twitch when one of Technoblade’s massive hands lands on his head. “Instincts kind of bridge together like that when there’s a previously established connection for both parties.”

“Stupid,” Tommy murmurs, reaching forward to yank the mer’s hair when he lets out another baritone purr.

That, of course, does nothing to dissuade the bastard. In fact, it only seems to encourage Technoblade more. As, instead, the mer reaches forward, arms easily scooping Tommy up with his blankets and the pillow he’d been holding like it’s nothing. The pup scowls, but doesn’t put up a struggle besides yanking the fucker’s hair a bit harder. Slapping Technoblade in the face with his tail just seems like too much work right now.

“Seriously?” Tommy asks the second the mer floats back to the dumb wall.

“Just pick something to put on it,” Technoblade shrugs, jostling the pup a little as he does so. “Doesn’t have to be anything specific. Coral reefs, kelp forests, fish. Whatever you want, I’ll carve it for you.”

“Your heads on a spike?”

The mer snorts. “No, Phil would be pissed.”

Tommy scoffs. “I don’t know. Some fish? Stars and constellations? I liked those rune things outside, they were on that dumb puzzle toy too.”

"Do you still have it?"

"Yeah," The pup huffs. "I had it on me when Wilbur fucking took me, he put it somewhere in the nest."

Technoblade hums in response, floating back to the white rock that he’d placed on the end table before heading back. He easily holds Tommy in one arm, using his free hand to map out what looks like strange constellations, ones that he vaguely remembers from the hall to the living room.

“Do you know anything about constellations?” Technoblade asks, dotting a line to one star from another. Creating some odd form of animal that Tommy doesn’t recognize.

“No,” The pup huffs, begrudgingly resting his head on the massive mer’s shoulder. He’s a bit tired, anyway, and settles for idly watching the other work. “You don’t really learn constellations when you don’t stay on a planet long enough.”

Technoblade hums again, sounding vaguely displeased, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Well, this planet is fairly new. There aren’t a lot of constellations that have been officially named yet, but there are enough.” The mer finishes the first one, a creature that’s a mix of some sort of three-headed fish and a shelled animal, before moving on to the next. This time, he gently sways his tail to float higher. Marking the next star closer to the roof.

“And what about the one you just finished?” Tommy can’t help but ask, simply too curious to stop himself.

Technoblade goes on to explain the story, something about an extinct creature they’d found fossilized somewhere in the deepest area of the planet. A one-off animal with three heads that seemed to die young, so they created a star cluster based off of it. Tommy doesn’t really get all of it, he doesn’t even remember the name, but he’s tired and Technoblade typically runs warmer than the others. He makes it easy to fall asleep on, especially when Tommy is still wrapped up in his blanket and clutching onto a pillow.

The pup is still somewhat conscious, though. Just lost in a comfortable, buzzy feeling as he listens to Technoblade talk about the next constellation he’s mapping out. The baritone rumble of his voice is almost like waves crashing on a shore. Calming, in a weird way.

It’s… well, Tommy doesn’t want to say it’s nice but it is. He feels nice, safe, even. Like nothing could touch him here.

In the background, Tommy can hear the talking come to a stop. He doesn’t really care, but he’ll admit that Technoblade has a good falling-asleep-to voice. They all do, in a weird fucking way. Not that he’d ever say that, though. No fucking way.

Still, the silence doesn’t last much longer and Tommy can hear the massive mer going back to marking up the walls. For a moment, the pup thinks he’ll start talking again. His instincts preen at the idea, a familiar excitement that would’ve concerned Tommy if he were coherent enough. But instead, the absolute bastard begins to purr.

Tommy startles at the noise, a trill forcing its way out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Immediately, he scowls. A sleepy sort of anger that has him whacking the fucker on the collarbone in retaliation. “You’re such a fucking piece of shit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Technoblade only hums, still purring as he continues to map out another constellation. This time, he starts to explain their history again. Something about some weird fish that looked a bit like Earth lions, with fins all around their necks like a mane and long eel-like tails. Tommy thinks it’s probably his favorite so far, but he doesn’t say it aloud.

Still, he’s not… as angry as he thinks he should be. Maybe it’s because he’s just tired, or maybe it’s because he hasn’t gotten the chance to actually run yet. Tommy doesn’t really know.

He can feel sleep dragging him down, too heavy for him to fight as his instincts coo pleasantly.

When Tommy tries his hand at running, or swimming—whatever, it’s regrettably mid-day. He can’t run at night because they all sleep together in a nest and trying to wiggle out of the damn pile would only wake them all up. So he settles for trying to sneak away while they’re all busy with something.

Thankfully, they don’t hover over him or anything like that. He can move wherever he wants, ignore them whenever he feels like it, and swim pretty far from the house until eventually, someone comes to get him. He would’ve thought they’d lock him up in the mountain for a while, but they don’t really seem all that bothered by the fact that Tommy swims out far enough to where he can see the edge of the reef.

Of course, he can’t go past the reef. It’s, unfortunately, one of the very strict rules that he can’t break unless he wants to hear that horrible clicking sound. It’s fucking embarrassing that a dumb scolding noise can get him freezing up like he’d done before.

Still, with the distance he can go, Tommy can use whatever hidden areas he finds to try and flee. And he’s found quite a few little tunnels that only he can swim through.

It’s been… a while now. Tommy isn’t even sure how long. The days are harder to tell when living deep underwater, but it’s been long enough that his stupid room is almost complete. Obviously, there’s still stuff Philza ordered that they have to pick up, Tommy doesn’t know what, however, it’s the perfect opportunity to get back to the dock.

He knows, for a fact, that there is only one dock on this side of the planet. Tommy had been looking out the window when they first entered the atmosphere, able to see far across the ocean, and there was no other dock even close to the one they landed at.

Surely, that’s still the dock Philza has to visit to pick up whatever the fuck they ordered.

And… surely Puffy is still there. She couldn’t have just left him. She wouldn’t.

Tommy shakes his head viciously, willing the bad thoughts away. Instead, he brings himself back to the present, lounging on a sandy ledge outside of the house while he watches Philza swim off into the distance. The fucker is fast, scarily so, and it doesn’t take long for him to fade into the abyss.

Now, only Wilbur and Technoblade remain. Last Tommy saw them, they were still working on shit in ‘his’ room.

Of course, Tommy isn’t just going to follow Philza. No, that’d be stupid. The mer would surely be able to tell if some pup who’s just recently learned how to swim was tailing him. All Tommy needed to know was which way to start swimming and when the time was right, he can leave before anyone even notices that he’s gone.

He doesn’t know how long it could take, though. Today is his best chance, but risking it now could cost him.

Tommy folds his arms in front of him, resting his chin on his forearms as he stares out into the abyss. He keeps his ear-fins perked as he eyes the rocky arch Philza had swam through, listening out for whatever Wilbur and Technoblade might be doing. He has to be as attentive as possible if he’s going to find an opening to flee and some of the windows from his room gives them the perfect view of the direction Philza had just swam in.

From inside, there are a few scraping noises and curses. They’re pushing furniture around and setting up shelves on the walls. Specifically, Wilbur is; Technoblade is still finishing up the carving he’s been working on for a while. The sounds of a chisel against rock and a hammer against some sort of metal have been going on all day.

Tommy frowns at that, sparing a glance over his shoulder.

He can’t see either of the mers through the window closest to him, but that doesn’t mean much. Tommy has no idea how much longer they’re going to be working, and if they manage to finish before he flees, it’ll just be harder to run.

The pup bites his lip, chewing on the pink tissue as he mulls over his options. This… this might be the best chance he’ll get. If he’s being honest with himself.

And even if he is spotted, he’s allowed to go wherever he wants in the reef as long as he doesn’t go past it. Which means he could just excuse what he’s doing as regular exploring, again.

“This might be stupid,” Tommy murmurs to himself, but he slips from the shelf anyway.

Tommy is fairly lucky to have already explored most of the reef by now. If he had gone out without doing so, he’s pretty sure he’d already be lost. Passing the arch is the easy part, it’s out in the open for anyone to see, but it’s the rocky, coral-covered cliffs afterward that make navigating the reef more difficult.

Contrary to popular belief, coral tends to move. Not all species of course, but the ones on this planet certainly seem to move more often than fucking not. That’s for damn sure.

If Tommy didn’t already know where he was based on the size and shape of the cliffs, he certainly would’ve gotten lost. The coral here is big and bulky enough that it can look entirely different if moved even a few feet, and then the pup would be trapped in a damn maze.

“Stupid alien coral,” Tommy still can’t help but grumble, poking a particularly large brain-looking one that collapses under his finger like a popped balloon. It’s not dead, thankfully. Tommy had to learn the hard way that it’s just a weird defense mechanism.

The pup shakes his head, however. Now is not the time to be messing with alien plant life.

He swims past the coral quickly, wiggling through a small tunnel of rock as he gets close to the edge of the reef. The crevices are fairly common between the stones and coral, and the closer he gets to the open ocean, the more likely it is that there’ll be bigger fish, too. Tommy would really rather not get eaten before he even makes it to the docks and he’ll have to hide in tunnels as often as he can, anyhow.

Tommy doesn’t know if Wilbur and Techno have noticed his absence yet, it hasn’t been too long, but he brushes off the thought quickly. If they knew, he’d likely be hearing their crooning trills by now.

With a huff, the pup places his hand on the edge of the tunnel, peering out into the abyss far past the reef.

He’s at the edge now, the drop off into the open ocean much darker than he once remembered. It’s eerily intimidating now, like a shroud hiding monsters within the deep. Lurking just beneath the shade as they wait for their next meal to swim by.

Tommy shakes his head viciously, forcing the thought away.

Now is not the time to be worrying about that. Not when he has the perfect opportunity to get away.

Slowly, with a shuddering breath, Tommy slinks out of the tunnel like an eel. Keeping himself close to the rocks and his gaze flicks this way and that. There are a few schools of fish here and there, most grouped near the leftover bits of coral, with very few bigger fish out near the open waters.

Still, there’s nothing that could give Tommy any trouble and the pup pushes himself off of the stones. He knows it’s just in his head, but the water feels heavier once he’s farther from the corals.

“Ignore it, ignore it,” He whispers to himself, letting himself sink further and further down into the deep blue as he swims forward.

It’s creepy how empty everything seems outside of the reef. Sure, there are towers of kelp, and see grass growing from bits of sand here and there. But it’s not the same as the mountains of coral and other plant life and fish.

The only fish down here are bland, ugly-looking ones like the dogfish.

Tommy shivers at the reminder of it. What had Wilbur said back then? That it would’ve eaten him? Or something about how it would’ve dragged him into the water the first chance it got. Which means that it would’ve killed and eaten him.

Would it still eat him now?

Tommy doesn’t want to wait around and find out.

The pup cowers close to the bare rocks, ear-fins flicking and he swims under jagged shelves and through sharp tunnels. Thankfully, with scales, brushing up against the sharp edges doesn’t hurt, and he’s able to pay more attention to the fish that are steadily getting bigger and bigger the farther he gets from the reef.

When traveling with Wilbur, Tommy never saw any of these fish before. And he doesn’t know if that’s because of his blurry vision, or because Wilbur is much, much bigger than he is and scared them off.

Tommy doesn’t want to know which one is the truth.

A fish larger than him swims overhead, covering the area in a massive shadow as it ambles past. The sight of it has the pup shrinking back, ear-fins flattening down as he attempts to make himself smaller. Tommy doesn’t think it sees him, but he doesn’t move until the creature is out of sight.

Quickly, Tommy all but dives for the underside of another ledge. Shimmying backwards when another large fish moves above him. He’s not sure why more and more of them are showing up, circling like Earth sharks, but the pup doesn’t want to wait to find out. He knows enough about sharks and other predators to know that circling isn’t a good thing.

This… this might’ve been a mistake. Maybe he should’ve just followed behind Philza, even if the fucker is ridiculously fast.

Tommy scoots back further, blood pounding in his ears so loudly that he doesn’t hear the calling croon in the distance. He doesn’t hear the second one, a much deeper sound, echoing the first, each calling in tandem as they venture closer and closer.

Rather, Tommy keeps shrinking back. Further and further, though he doesn’t stop to think about how. He’s much more focused on getting away. All he has to do is just… swim between the ledges. That’s fine, he can do that. He’s small and fast and these fish are surely too big to catch him quickly.

The pup flares his fins, ignoring the way his heart races in his chest, and arches his back. Preparing to beat his tail and—

Something brushes up against his side. Much larger than he is, with the graze of sharp, sharp teeth gliding over the scales of his tail. Tommy’s fins flare in surprise, instincts screaming at him to fucking move—

But he can’t help the way he turns around, blood still roaring in his ears as he slowly, oh so slowly, glances at what’s behind him.

It’s an eel.

It’s a massive, black and gray eel with fangs longer than Tommy fucking fingers and beady, golden eyes that glow in the darkness. It’s easily bigger than him, and maybe twice as long too. It hisses, like a fucking snake, and opens its jaws to reveal even more long teeth as its body coils. Obviously getting ready to strike and—

Tommy screams bloody murder, bolting out from under the edge just as the creature lunges.

Talons much bigger than his own descend on the eel, easily ripping through skin as it screeches a violent death keel. The sound is so loud that the pup has to cover his ears, curling into a ball just as arms scoop him up and cradle him against a large chest. Whoever it is, he can hear their racing heart, and Tommy curls closer in response.

When the screeching dies, Tommy can hear a familiar voice drawl. “I told you we should’ve come the second the sensors tripped.”

“Phil gave us a few minutes when we tried,” Wilbur, the one obviously holding him, protests lowly. Though his voice sounds a tad hysterical. “I was trying to do the same. I didn’t think he’d come down here.”

Technoblade only sighs. “Let’s just go home.”

Immediately, Tommy jolts from his shock. A protesting noise rises from his throat as he tries to push away from the chest, but Wilbur’s grip is unyielding. The mer even croons a soothing noise, gently trying to calm him down.

“Wait—“ Tommy objects, lifting his head to stare at Technoblade with wide eyes.

The massive mer tilts his head curiously, looking vaguely unimpressed with the way one of his brows is raised. The eel is still skewered on his talons like some sort of fucked up noodle on a fork.

“You’re done for the day,” He says, tone unrelenting but not unkind. “You can try again later.”

Tommy grits his teeth but spares the giant eel one more glance. Shivering at the once eerie yellow eyes that have now turned dull. Rather than making another comment, he hides his face in the crook of Wilbur’s neck. Willing himself not to think about what could’ve happened if the two mer hadn’t found him.

Wilbur croons softly in response, the noise still a tad shaky. “Okay, let’s go already. Can you drop that thing now?”

“It can be lunch.” The massive mer hums.

Wilbur lets out an unintelligible noise of disgust. The sound on the edge of a screech. “Shut the fuck up, Technoblade.”

Tommy does not comment as they begin to swim back, though maybe eating the thing that tried to eat him would be a little cool.

“Would you have changed me if I could stay with you without being a mer?” Tommy can’t help but ask one day while Philza and Technoblade are out doing something. They never really explained what, but they said it was something he’d like.

Tommy isn’t so sure about that, but there isn’t really anything he can do about it. He hasn’t tried to run for a while since his first, horribly failed attempt. And while he’s still going to try, he’s gotta figure out a better plan than what he first had. He does not want to end up getting eaten by a giant eel for real next time.

Though, sadly, he did not get to eat said eel.

Still, Tommy busies himself by lying in the nest, curled up in the center of Wilbur’s chest and fiddling with one of his tail fins.

It’s a thought that’s been on his mind a lot. Since he woke up after the bastard had given him that potion. Did Wilbur feel bothered that he was human? A weak, frail human whose only purpose was to be something else? A genetically blank species that didn’t belong amongst the ra’am, and the avians, and everyone else.

The thought makes his chest ache.

“If we were somewhere else, where you could live and not be in danger just by being a different species, then no, I wouldn’t.” Wilbur blinks at him like Tommy has just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “But it’d still all depend on the circumstances.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy frowns.

“Mmm, you know those stories about werewolves and vampires, right?” The pup nods. “Right, well, for example. If we were all vampires or werewolves and you were human, I wouldn’t leave you human. I wouldn’t want you to die before we did or be unable to connect with us like we can with each other. Being forever a black sheep compared to us? To the rest of the family? That’d be cruel.”

“And if you were all different species? You wouldn’t care, then?” Tommy presses on, chest feeling a tad lighter.

“Of course not. I never cared about what you were,” Wilbur says sternly, sitting up and cradling the pup against his chest. Staring at him with a furrowed brow. “The main thing I care about is your safety. If you were an avian or an inchling, I’d still do what I did. I’m selfish, we’re all selfish. If being around us put you in danger just because of what we are, I would always find a way to fix that.”

“Would you become human If you could?” Tommy asks, feeling a tad conflicted.

He did like being human, being human wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he was weak. He was so fucking weak. He hated that. He hated being frail and soft-skinned, being told he couldn’t do shit like helping to repair a damn ship because he ‘didn’t have the right equipment’.

“I think it’d depend. I don’t hate humans, and they’re not the only species that aren’t as durable as others. There are species even more fragile than them.” Wilbur hums, head tilted and brows scrunched as he thinks. “There are lots of planets that humans and other species like them can live on without a problem. There are far more safe planets than there are dangerous ones, anyway. But humans live short lives, and I’d want to stay with my family for as long as possible.”

Something shoots through Tommy’s chest at that. A feeling he can’t quite explain. It doesn’t feel bad, at least. But more like he’s been hit with something he’s never thought of before.

Humans, admittedly, did live short lives. Maybe not the shortest lives like inchlings or merlings, but they certainly weren’t up there with other species like avians or ra’ams. Puffy would’ve still been young and youthful by the time Tommy turned eighty. Something he never really liked to think about before.

“So if you could be like, an avian or something, would you?” Tommy hums, shimmying up so he can rest a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, the other mer shifting his grip to accommodate him.

“I mean, I could become an avian any time I wanted, but it’s… less complicated being a mer.” Said mer shrugs.

“Wait,” Tommy pulls back a bit, setting his hands on Wilbur’s collarbones so he can stare down at the other. “What do you mean?”

Wilbur blinks at him curiously. “Did you think only humans could mess with their genes and become a different species?”

“I- well,” The pup sputters, still shell-shocked. “The orphanage never said anything about it, and no one on the ship talked about it either.”

Wilbur shakes his head with a little scoff.

“Anyone can change their species, it doesn’t matter if they’re a human, a ra’am, an avian; whatever. All forms of life in this universe are made up of the same thing, it’s quite literally impossible for a species to be so different that they can’t share at least some genetic similarities. Like water, no lifeform can exist without water or something equivalent to it. It’s physically impossible.” Tommy rolls his eyes at the lecture but listens as the mer talks, anyway. It’s certainly more than what he learned at the fucking orphanage.

“All someone needs to do is find those gray areas between species, and swap them out. Of course, there are still things you can’t do. Like turning a fish into an avian or an inchling into a dog, because of the differences in cognition and consciousness will kill them. But between sapient species, humans aren’t the only ones able to change.” Wilbur relaxes back into the headrest of the nest, ear-fins flicking. “None of us were originally mer, we became like this later in life.”

“So if all of you were a different species before, what were you? Why’d you change?” Tommy asks, wiggling out of Wilbur’s hold with a huff. He settles on the sand-filled, bowl-like chair a few feet away, sending the mer a suspicious look.

“Phil was an avian and Techno was a piglin but, well, I used to be a bit like you.” Wilbur hums, “I wasn’t human, but I was also constantly moving from planet to planet, never staying in one place for too long. I wasn’t on a cargo ship, though, I used to be a singer.”

“A singer?”

“Yeah,” His voice turns quiet. “Had a big name contract and everything, we’d go from planet to planet and sing to all sorts of different people. I was young, then. Thought it’d be the best times of my life, it was pretty shit, though.”

“So what happened?” Tommy frowns, shimmying down into the warm sand. Letting the grains cover his back. “Why’d you end up here?”

“It was hard. Not what I was expecting. A whole lot of things.” Wilbur shrugs. “Planet hopping really isn’t that easy, gigs are decided based on planet population and popularity. If it’s a planet you can’t stay on, it’s pretty typical to change species to accommodate for that.”

“Isn’t that like… rude? You know, culturally?”

“Don’t assume everyone who looks a certain way is a part of a certain culture, that’s rude. Like humans, many species have multiple different cultures.” Wilbur admonishes gently and Tommy nods silently in acknowledgment. “But everyone feels differently about it. I never particularly liked it, but it’s a common practice, especially in the inner worlds.”

“You still haven’t explained what happened.” The pup points out.

“I’m getting there, relax.”

“Mmm,”

“Anyways, we were on another tour to a semi-aquatic planet and most of the group couldn’t participate. We stopped on this planet to prepare and get used to a more underwater setting.” Wilbur fiddles with his talons, a faraway look entering his eyes. “Adjusting to being a merling is hard, they only have gills, and getting used to that again after years of not having them isn’t easy.”

“You were a merling?” Tommy gapes, leaning forward ever so slightly. Why’d he change if he could easily survive here as a merling?

“Yeah. I changed after leaving home, though.” The mer murmurs, but he doesn’t sound very pleased about it. “We had to stay here for a few months to practice and get used to holding our breaths on land or singing in water. Semi-aquatic planets like it when you sing on land and in their oceans.”

“But staying here is how I met Phil,” Wilbur’s tone brightens considerably. “It’s a bit like how we met, actually. I’d practice in one of the pickup stations and Phil had a lot of things to pick up. Stuff for, well, the house. So we’d meet up a lot.”

“And how did that lead you to becoming a mer?”

“Impatient as usual, huh.”

Tommy scowls. “You just take forever to tell a damn story.”

“It’s called giving context, mate.” Wilbur huffs, but he only sounds amused. “Phil and I talked almost every day and I met Techno a few times as well. Practice was getting harder, though, and I hated all of it. I used to complain to Phil about it all the time, and eventually, he just took things into his own hands.”

“Wait, so you got turned into a mer against your will and you’re just fucking fine with that?” The pup can’t help but shout, absolutely aghast at the mere idea.

“I mean,” Wilbur shrugs. “I was super pissed at first. I still don’t really forgive him for it but, being here… It’s freeing. It’s like I can breathe, pun intended, and I didn’t have to live my life in a shitty contract anymore. People like to think being able to travel across space is the most freeing thing out there, sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. All I know is that it can get lonely when you have no one to return to.”

“I was fine, though.” Tommy points out, even if it sounds a little like a lie.

“You were a child working on a cargo ship, hiding and fearing for your life on every planet you went to. That doesn’t sound fine to me.”

“I needed a job.” The pup protests. “Puffy was helping me.”

“What you needed was safety. Everyone knows there are planets mostly populated by humans.” Wilbur says with a gentle sort of ruthlessness. “You didn’t need to be on some ship working every day.”

“That doesn’t make what you did right.” Tommy hisses quietly.

The mer shrugs. “No, but like I said, I’m a selfish person. We all are.” Wilbur pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Family always comes first, no matter what. Even if you don’t like it sometimes. You… you’re my son. I couldn’t just let you fly off into space, potentially putting yourself at risk when you didn’t need to.”

Wilbur’s golden eyes bare into Tommy’s blue ones, intense and utterly unyielding. Stubborn in a way that the pup irritatingly understands.

“And if I had to kidnap you to prevent that, then so be it.”

Tommy grits his teeth, feeling utterly conflicted. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. In some fucked up way, he gets it. If he were in Wilbur’s shoes, or even Phil’s, and he saw how miserable Wilbur had described he was, he probably would’ve dragged him down into the ocean, too. Still—

“I don’t forgive you.” He says through gritted teeth.

“That’s okay,” Wilbur hums gently. “I don’t expect forgiveness. I’d be pretty fucking hypocritical if I did. Besides, I’d be a pretty shit parent if I just assumed I’d be forgiven.”

“But you’re not sorry,” Tommy points out with a complicated tone.

“I’m not sorry for what I had to do, but I am sorry I had to hurt you to do it.”

They let that sit in silence for a moment. Heavy and tense, though Tommy’s mind still wanders back to the previous explanation. Wilbur could’ve lived in the water just fine as a merling, couldn’t he?

“Didn’t you have biological parents?” Tommy can’t help but speak up. “Why’d Phil even give you a damn potion if you were a merling?”

Wilbur’s expression turns somber for a moment, a talon digging into the tiny scales on his hand for a moment, flicking one off in some sort of anxious habit. He squeezes his hands tightly into fists soon after.

“My… parents, though I don’t consider them as such, were the type that subscribed to kicking their children out as soon as possible. It didn’t matter if you were prepared for it or not, but it wasn’t like they were any good, anyway.” The mer huffs, rolling his eyes before he continues. “As for the potion… this place has waters that are too dense for the gills of a merling, or any species not tailored to its oceans. It’s why everything here has so many gills.”

Wilbur points to a few fish swimming nearby, three slots on each side of their bodies where usually only one would be. Tommy looks back curiously, eyeing the densely packed gills on the mer’s neck. Eight on each side. The first pair curls under his jaw and almost into the back of his hair, while the last pair stretches down to just before the collarbone.

“You could survive for a few months with fewer gills, but eventually it’ll catch up to you,” Wilbur explains, tapping said gills on his neck. “It’s like breathing less oxygen than usual, if you do it for too long, it’ll mess with your organs and you could die.”

Tommy’s never noticed them before. He thought it was just some sort of awkward marking, not all gills. He’s been squeezing the fucker’s neck pretty often, though. He can’t help but vaguely wonder if that causes problems. Wilbur hasn’t said anything, so Tommy assumes it’s fine.

“You said you didn’t like changing species,” Tommy speaks up after a minute of silence. “Why is it different for mer?”

“Well, mer aren’t a naturally occurring species,” Wilbur shrugs, and Tommy gapes at him. “It’s different when a species evolved on their own, versus someone just fucking with their own genes to become something else.”

“What?”

“Mer are a creation of when messing with genes first started. Many, many, years ago. It’s why we’re an amalgamation of traits and features that don’t really make sense, but still work. Like having lungs and gills, even horns.”

“But why is that weird? Wouldn’t that make sense?” Tommy can’t help but point out.

Wilbur only chuckles. “We’re on a planet made up entirely of water, there’s no reason for mer to have lungs when evolution could’ve given us the ability to hold our breath for longer periods of time like merlings. And we don’t need horns when we already have talons.” The mer gestures out into the ocean with his arm, as though he were reaching out to the abyss. “It’s why we look so much like those human fairytales, the ones of sirens and mermaids. The ones who started this merely designed how they wanted to look and what they thought would make it easier for them to survive here.”

“Like many other worlds, this one didn’t have a sapient species, but surviving here meant change. Evolution. And they couldn’t just wait for evolution to happen naturally. So they made potions and messed with their genes, and then became mer.” Wilbur just shrugs, as though that isn’t fucking horrifying. “This planet sort of just became a hub of people who wanted to get away from something. Being underwater on a planet with no land tends to be more peaceful than others.”

Tommy doesn’t comment on that last bit, refusing to admit that yes, Wilbur is right that being underwater is much calmer than the surface. Not to mention space. But he doesn’t want to see the fondly amused look on the bastard’s face.

“So who were the first ones to turn themselves into mer?” Tommy can’t help but ask, morbidly curious.

“Who do you think? It was humans, obviously.”

“Excuse me?” The pup sputters, feeling a tad insulted by the matter-of-fact tone.

Wilbur shifts forward until he’s belly down, copying Tommy as he uses his elbows to casually hold himself up. Chin resting on threaded fingers.

“Have you ever heard of the filter theory?” He asks far too casually.

“No,” Tommy sputters. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“Just listen,” Wilbur rolls his eyes fondly. “There’s this theory of space that for some reason, sapient life is extremely uncommon. Through all of space exploration, very few new sapient species have ever been found. And there are extensive tests for this kind of shit when finding a new species, you know. It would be pretty fucking stupid if space travelers didn’t know what basic sapience looked like or how to search for it after traveling from planet to planet.”

“Yeah no shit, I mean aliens being that dense is pretty fucking ridiculous. But that whole filter thing is just a dumb theory, isn’t it?” The pup huffs, not leaning away when Wilbur leans his forehead against Tommy’s own.

“It rings more true than you think.” The mer pulls back with a hum, resting his chin back on threaded fingers. “There are a lot of different species now, but that wasn’t always the case. Humans aren’t just called genetically blank because they’re humans. They’re called that because they started modifying their own genetics to give them the ability to inhabit other plants. Other species just started following their lead.”

“Why would humans call themselves genetically blank?” Tommy scowls. “That sounds dumb.”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know. I just know all that stuff messing with genes started with humans.” Wilbur only shrugs. “There are very few sapient species that actually evolved naturally. I don’t think the number goes past fifteen, but it’s part of the reason why some species are on the brink of extinction. When you fuck with your genes so much, you can also fuck with your ability to reproduce and have kids.”

“Okay, I did not need to hear that part.” Tommy gags, reaching forward to yank on some of the other mer’s brown hair.

Wilbur just laughs, completely unbothered by the hair-pulling. “Right, sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about the horrors of that shit with children.”

“I am not a child!” Tommy protests angrily.

“You, quite literally, are.” Wilbur laughs loudly, reaching forward to gently ruffling Tommy’s hair in turn. “Don’t worry, I won’t talk about that stuff with you anymore.”

“Fucking die!”

Tommy doesn’t really know what he’s doing anymore. In the last few days, he’s tried to escape a few times, but none of them were as eventful as the first and he barely got farther than the reef.

Apparently, the bastards have cameras and motion sensors and all that bullshit around the edge of the reef. Which, thinking back now, makes more sense than Tommy would like to admit. The whole reef is basically their front and back lawn, and having stupid security covering the entrances of the area is a smart thing to do. Especially when there are giant fucking predators all over the damn place.

Still, Tommy fucking hates that it’s technically being used against him. Though, admittedly, it’s much better than wandering into the wrong area and nearly getting eaten again.

The pup sighs, pressing his face into the awkward underwater wood of the dining table.

“Are you bored?” Wilbur croons from where he hovers in the kitchen, filleting a large fish that’s supposedly going to be their lunch. This one is much bigger than Tommy is, which means it’ll likely be lunch for Technoblade and Philza too when they return from the damn dock.

The thought of it makes Tommy frown, eyes burning just a tad. Still, he can’t help but ask. The idea that Puffy is still there is an unrealistic one by now and though she was his captain, even she couldn’t stay for long when they were already running out of money.

“When did Puffy leave?” The pup mumbles into the table. “Do you know?”

Tommy doesn’t look up to see him, but he can hear the way Wilbur stops what he’s doing. The mer sounds a bit hesitant, though the pup doesn’t dare turn his face to look. Every muscle in his body is already tense enough.

Eventually, Wilbur sighs and Tommy can hear the way he opens their stupid underwater fridge thing. Likely to put the fish away for a moment, before the bastard floats closer. He rests a hand on the table near Tommy’s head while he warbles an odd tone. It’s not condescending or pitying, but something more like a vague understanding. There’s some pitch of penitence, though Tommy knows it’s more because the bastard is upset that Tommy is upset rather than anything else.

It obviously lacks any remorse or guilt for the whole kidnapping bullshit, as Wilbur has already made it abundantly clear that he never agreed with anything Puffy had done regarding Tommy’s place working on her ship.

“She left a while ago.” Wilbur murmurs and Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. It’s a hard blow, but he knew, deep down, that it was coming. “Maybe even before we got home.”

“I don’t believe you,” The pup says anyway, ear-fins unconsciously relaxing when a hand gently brushes through his hair.

“I’ve got no reason to lie about it,” The mer only shrugs when Tommy finally turns to glare at him. “Even if she was still around, that wouldn’t change anything.”

“I could escape.” Tommy protests, but his tone is more annoyed than outraged. Like the mere act of telling him he can’t do something is more annoying than the idea of not being able to run.

Wilbur only looks fondly amused, tilting his head to the side. “I have no doubt you’d try.”

Tommy scowls in response, “I could.” He insists.

“I’m not making fun of you,” The mer laughs, and the pup turns away at the sound. Face burning just a tad. But it’s not because he’s embarrassed about the comment, no. It’s because he likes the bastard’s laugh. “You’re insistent and relentless and you never like to give up. But I love you just the way you are, stubbornness and all. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t have become father and son. Family.”

“That does not make me feel better.” Tommy lies, hiding the way his voice trembles with a huff.

“I’m sure,” Wilbur says, voice too knowing for the pup’s taste.

“Shut up,”

Wilbur only laughs again, gently lifting Tommy from the awkward chair he’d be sitting on. He holds the pup close with one hand, floating back to the kitchen and pulling the partially filleted fish from the fridge.

This time, he pulls out some sort of cutting board as well. Unable to clean up the fish properly with just one hand while he’s carrying Tommy. It’s a bit different compared to the boards that’d be on the shit. As instead of wood, it’s some sort of shining metal with grainy grooves, likely so cutting the fish wouldn’t cause too much damage to the board. He doesn’t really get why it’s metal, but it’s probably a cleanliness thing if the pup had to guess.

Tommy, however, only watches silently. Letting his head come down to rest on Wilbur’s shoulder as he works.

“If it makes you feel better,” Wilbur starts after a long moment of silence. “We can go to the dock and get the video footage from there. After lunch, of course. It’ll be fast now that you’re more used to being a mer.”

Tommy jolts at the thought, pulling back to stare at the mer with wide eyes. Wilbur, however, only spares him a soft glance. The pup gapes for a second before clicking his jaw shut, turning away so he’s looking over Wilbur’s shoulder instead. His mouth twists into a complicated frown.

Honestly, he’s not sure if he wants to see that. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that Puffy left him, and he certainly doesn’t want to know how long, or little, it took for her to finally leave.

And only a few hours' notice is not enough time for him to mentally prepare for any of that.

“No,” Tommy says instead, letting himself all but melt over Wilbur’s shoulder, his chin resting on the curve between his neck. "Not today… I don’t know. Tomorrow maybe.”

Wilbur purrs a comforting tone, tilting his head to the side so his cheek rests on Tommy’s hair.

“It’s up to you, we don’t have to go.”

The pup chews his lip but doesn’t respond. Wilbur doesn’t push him on it, either. Something Tommy is reluctantly grateful for.

Maybe one day he’ll go back to that dock, see the footage of Puffy leaving him, and be okay with it. Maybe one day he’ll go back to that dock and she’ll have returned with another delivery. Maybe one day, he’ll never go back at all. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll be okay with that.

Eventually, Wilbur starts to hum a soft tune as he works and Tommy lets himself be content.