Scar watches him with near engrossment, his eyes following every movement he makes. He knows this, because he watches Scar with a similar interest, going through the motions of it on autopilot as he studies his face, the furrow of his brows, the set of his jaw. “What are you?” He mumbles to himself, pulling back the coffee pot seconds from overflowing his cup. He leans down to sip from the edge before picking it up, taking a longer drink.
He looks up again and notices Scar leaning over the edge of the bed now, peering into his cup.
Lance lowers it, holding it out for him to see. “What, you want some?”
The thought seems a little dangerous at first, but he thinks about it for a few seconds and decides that, if the pain killers worked the way that they should for a person, then there shouldn't be any harm in letting him have a sip of coffee either. He lifts the cup toward him, propping himself up on his knees to get closer.
“It’s hot, so be careful.” He warns, fanning the steam toward Scar’s face so he understands. “It’s bitter, so you might not like it.” Like before, Scar makes no move to take the cup, only looking into it and opening his mouth ever so slightly.
Lance lowers the cup, setting it on the floor for a moment. “Look, you can use your hands to hold it. I’m not gonna feed you everything like a baby, alright? Give me your hand.” He reaches down, taking his hand once more by the wrist and opening his palm, picking up the cup again and pressing it into his hand. “Hold it, see? Grip it with your fingers. Like this.”
He holds his hand over Scar’s, pressing his fingers to the cup to hold it. Though the moment he tries to let go he feels the cup tilt and quickly fixes his grip again with a sigh. “I guess you’re not used to being able to hold things, are you?”
Relenting, he lifts the cup, still with Scar’s hand pinned between his own, and tips it for him to drink, just a sip. He pulls back in surprise at the taste, and it’s the most Lance has seen him move since bringing him into the house. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, but thankfully he doesn’t spit it out.
Lance laughs. “Don’t like it? That’s coffee. Pretty bitter, huh?”
For a moment neither of them move, just Scar recovering from the sudden taste and Lance gently chuckling at him before suddenly Scar’s hand tenses around the cup and he leans in again, taking a deep sip.
“Woah! Hey, hey, I thought you didn’t like it!” He hissed, trying to keep his voice down. He takes it by the handle and pulls it from Scar’s weak grasp. “I think that’s plenty enough for you.” He laughs, finishing the last of it off before setting the mug down next to the coffee pot and half-and-half carton on the bookshelf.
He glances through his books, an idea suddenly striking him as he pulls out his old atlas of costal animals, a gift from one of his uncles when he’d been a kid. The pages are covered in small colorful sticky notes and dozens of dog-eared pages, the sides of the hard cover well worn as he opens it, leaning against the bedside.
“Look, you probably know what some of these are.” He flips to a page covering reef animals and points out several that he’s seen before in Atla, like the cleaner shrimp and striped eels. “These are pictures, but you know these don’t you? You’ve seen these before.” He pokes a picture of an eel, peering up over his shoulder to gauge Scar’s interest.
He pulls back, as Scar is just inches from him, his wet hair hanging just an inch from his shoulder as he chuckles, turning back to the book. “Yeah! Look at some of these. Angelfish, Clownfish, Anemones. You know what all of these are.”
An arm darts out from beside him and Scar nearly knocks the book out of his hands, tapping on the edge of the page. He lifts the book to show him the picture more clearly:
Triaenodon obesus in the family Carcharhinidae. The white-tipped reef shark.
“Hey, yeah!” He laughs, pointing at the picture too. “Yeah, that’s… That’s you.” He whispers.
Happy Mermay everyone!! Finally, a year where I get to participate on time, lmao
If you like this story, you can read it over on AO3!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
