pt. 1 2 4 🧜🏻♂️
Mickey glanced up from his book when he heard a soft splashing in the water near him. He thought maybe it was a bird that had landed by the boat, but…
“Holy fuckin' Christ!”
Mickey jerked back. That had to be the biggest goddamn goldfish he’d ever seen. Or maybe it was a giant man-eating fish that wanted him for dinner. Mickey didn’t know what the fuck lived in the lake. Jesus, did Lake Michigan have sharks? Either way, it was quickly coming in his direction.
He scrambled to stand up, getting his legs out of the water in case whatever it was decided to take a nice big chunk out of him. His book slid off his lap and fell into the lake with a plop that he barely noticed because he was too busy watching the glittering…
Wow, those colors…
Mickey blinked a few times, dumbfounded by its beauty, as it twisted and twirled in the water, doing a little dance. His fingers suddenly itched for his markers and drawing pad. At the same time, he shook his head quickly to snap himself out of it and reached for the gun in his shorts’ pocket.
It was just instinct, alright? Could you shoot a fucking fish in the water? Mickey didn’t know!
Mickey aimed and loaded, finger poised on the trigger as it got closer and closer. He grunted in shock when he saw a human torso. His eyes couldn’t comprehend what they were seeing. Was the fish eating a guy already, and the guy was trying to swim away?
“What the fuck?!”
Ian knew that he had gotten too close—that he had been spotted—when he heard shouts above the surface of the water. For some reason, he didn’t feel scared. He popped his head out of the water to check, bright green eyes widening when he saw the short, raven-haired land fish pointing a peculiar object at him.
Mickey was losing his goddamn mind. That was a red, curly-haired head of a guy probably not much younger than himself. His eyes were so bright they were twinkling, catching the sun mesmerizingly. And down below the water, though it was blurry, was a fucking fishtail. Attached to the guy. Half fish, half man. Mer…merman. Mickey gulped.
Then the guy opened his mouth—an alluringly pink mouth—and let out an unearthly sound.
It wasn’t unpleasant. It was soft, almost like music, caressing Mickey’s eardrums. His grip went slack on the gun, and he dropped it in the water, watching with a dazed expression as the merman (fuck, man, this really couldn’t be happening to him) dove below the water to fetch it.
Ian smiled up a storm as he resurfaced. “What is this thing?” he asked, holding the heavy contraption by the barrel and pointing it at himself. It wasn’t so scary now that the land fish didn’t have it. Ian looked up, distracted again as he took in the colorful markings on the land fish’s arms. “Whoa, cool scales!”
Mickey’s head cleared whiplash fast. He lifted his hands in alarm. “Jesus, don’t fuckin’—be careful! It’s a fuckin’ gun. What the fuck do you think? It’s loaded, don’t pull the trigger.”
The guy had a grin on his face like he’d just opened a fucking Christmas present. Maybe he was a dimwit, Mickey didn’t know—he also didn’t know why his heart lurched into his fucking throat. And he was thrown by the compliment. Cool scales. What? What?
Mickey was more concerned about the gun that could be turned towards himself any second.
“Fuckin’ gun,” Ian repeated, looking at it. Something to be careful with. Don’t pull the trigger? (What was a trigger?) He furrowed his brow, not wanting to keep holding something that could hurt either of them. Maybe it was like a harpoon. Ian had seen fish being harpooned by humans many times. It was awful.
Mickey might’ve barked a laugh if the guy hadn’t been holding the gun. He didn’t know what a gun was? Was he insane or just great at acting?
“Look, can you put that down?” Mickey gestured towards the stern—poopdeck, whatever. He was… thirty percent sure now the guy wasn’t out to eat him. “I won't hurt you. I’ll put it away.”
Ian contemplated it only momentarily, then put the gun down on the boat.
Mickey held his breath and slowly crouched to grab it. He kept his eyes on the merman as he lifted the red seating cushion from one side of the boat, which was also a storage space. He nearly shot himself in the foot first, though, at the following words that left the merman’s mouth.
“I knew that you weren’t going to hurt me. You sounded so scared. You don’t look scary. You look pretty,” Ian complimented. “I’m not going to hurt you either.”
Mickey choked on his spit and blushed crimson—something he hadn’t done since he was about fourteen, and his sister caught him with his hand down his pants, jerkin’ it to one of the heartthrobs in her Seventeen magazine.
He hastily clicked the safety on and dropped the gun in the storage compartment, closing it. Pretty? How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that? The guy said it with such honest fuckin’ sincerity, too. Didn’t seem to be yanking no chains.
Mickey really didn’t know what the fuck to do, so he decided to ignore it, shoulders relaxing slowly. This merman was acting more like a puppy than a human-eating monster.
Ian swam closer to splash Mickey with his tail, presenting himself and showing it off. Maybe he could be friends with the lovely land fish.
The rush of cold water hit Mickey’s chest and made him shout again. “Ay!”
Ian loved that reaction. What a funny noise. He knew the land fish would be grateful since he looked so hot. That was the worst part about being above the water, or so he imagined. Ian hated being hot and only was when he was above the surface for too long.
The combination of his sunburnt skin and the cold lake water felt fucking freezing. Water dripped down Mickey’s chest, leaving a wet patch on his shorts, already drying from the relentless heat. But he felt an insatiable urge to get a closer look at that flapper.
Before he knew it, Mickey was sitting on the edge of the boat again, watching the sunlight hit iridescent, shiny scales in colors he wondered if he’d even be able to recreate on paper. Probably not. He wasn’t a goddamn Picasso.
Stopping himself before he did something like reach out, Mickey returned the merman’s gaze. Then something occurred to him, and he felt like the most gullible asshole on the planet. “Is that a fuckin’ costume?”
Of course it was. Maybe this guy was one of those weird cosplayer people. The ones that dressed up like crazy characters from their favorite shows and pretended to be them and shit.
Mickey knew some girls liked buying fake mermaid tales to swim with and pretend to be mermaids. Maybe this was just that on an… extreme level. It all looked so real.
Ian was happy that the land fish had settled, looking comfortable again. He followed Mickey’s gaze to his tail. “My what? That’s my tail.”
Mickey paused, then shook his head. “You need a ride back to your boat or somethin’, man?”
Not that Mickey could give him one, now that he’d lost his fuckin’ book and had no idea how to sail anywhere.
“I don’t have a boat. Don’t need one, obviously,” Ian replied. He flicked his tail again pointedly. Maybe this land fish wasn’t so smart.
Mickey raised his eyebrows, amused now that he knew he wasn't going crazy and talking to an actual fucking merman. “Right, course,” he replied.
If the guy wanted to keep up his weird charade, who the fuck was Mickey to stop him? It could have also been the fact that the “merman” was otherworldly levels of attractive and was sort of flirting with him, that Mickey didn’t tell him to just cut the psycho bullshit.
There weren’t many pretty guys in the clink—and if there were, they hadn’t been able to scratch that particular itch Mickey needed scratching. Mickey hadn’t had a proper tumble in over two years. He wouldn't be too choosy about sticking his dick in crazy if it meant finally getting scratched.
“Do you need help getting back to the shore?” Ian asked worriedly. “Boats like this aren’t normally out this far. Not that I want you to go…"
It was refreshing to see a young, hot land fish all the way out near the findom. Ian started to swim around Mickey's dangling feet, needing to burn off some energy. He was too excited.
“Ah fuck, I did come out too far then. Kinda what I thought.” Mickey scratched at his jaw and his itchy five o‘clock shadow.
That was a real problem, but if his new acquaintance knew how to work those sails and take him back, that’d work. And it was probably just an excuse to get back to wherever the fuck the guy came from.
Mickey watched the graceful loops around his legs the merman was performing. He must’ve practiced for a long time to get that good at wearing the tail. He didn’t seem tired at all.
“A’right, fish boy, hop aboard. You’re gonna have to de-tail yourself, though. Promise I won’t look.” He wondered if the guy would go as far as flopping around on the boat like an actual fish out of water.
Ian stopped swimming around, glaring up at the land fish. “I’m not a fish boy. I’m a merman. Also, I have a name. It’s Ian.”
Ian couldn’t go onto the boat. He couldn’t be out of the water that long, let alone help sail the boat or take off his tail. What the fuck?
Mickey almost chuckled. The power of that glare was pretty impressive… but still amusing as hell. “Oh. I see.”
Ian’s glare vanished. He grabbed one of Mickey’s legs and gave it a tug, pulling it further into the water. “Come swim with me. I wanna play, don’t you? I can push you in the right direction after we have some fun.”
Mickey quickly grabbed onto the side of the boat, inching his way back when his butt slid to the very edge, heart going slightly faster at the thought of falling in and sinking right down into the dark depths below.
His brows furrowed skeptically at the invitation and the fact that the guy wasn’t planning on getting on the boat. Maybe he was just nervous. Mickey had almost shot him, after all. But they were in the middle of the fucking lake, and unless he was planning on swimming to shore, he would have to get on eventually.
“I don’t think so, man,” Mickey said just as Ian went for his feet, nipping at his ankles playfully. Mickey jerked them away from him. Jesus, those teeth were sharp! He kicked at Ian but only ended up splashing him. “What the fuck! Ay! Stop bitin’ me, you fuckin’ piranha!”
Ian ducked the kicks, laughing up a storm and causing small waves as he just got splashed. He enjoyed that thoroughly. He was already having so much fun. He was glad now that he had been spotted. Usually, he wouldn’t dare get this close to a human, but he had a really good feeling about this one.
“Land fish tastes pretty good,” Ian teased, licking his lips.
“Land fish? I’m human, bitch. And I got a name. It’s Mickey.” Imitating Ian’s earlier attitude, Mickey huffed. His stomach was acting weird, doing little somersaults as he listened to that strangely melodic, joyful laughter. He’d never heard anyone sound so carefree. “Yeah, I’m not lookin’ to be fish food today, sorry.”
“Human bitch,” Ian repeated. Was that a different kind of human? Ian hadn’t heard of the human bitch before, but it was obvious now that Mickey… was different. Ian smiled. He liked the human bitch’s name. It was just as cute sounding as he looked.
Jesus Christ. “No, that’s not—” Mickey rubbed his face. God, this guy was fucking deranged. A human parrot who wanted to be a fish. “You know what? Forget it.”
Ian calmed and leaned back into the water, putting his hands behind his head and looking up at Mickey. “I wish you’d join me. It’s so hot above water.”
Mickey took his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, taking a deep pull as he watched the wannabe merman. As if he needed reminding of how fucking hot it was outside. He was burning to a crisp on deck, while Flipper down there was cool and refreshed.
Mickey exhaled his smoke, tongue dry in his mouth and sweat rolling down his spine as his gaze roved over the impressive body stretched out, glittering and glistening beneath him. Mickey squinted a little against the sunlight, trying not to let his eyes stay on the spot where Ian’s dick was hiding beneath his tail. There wasn’t any indication of a bulge there, so he probably wasn’t packing much.
“Can ya do any tricks then?” Mickey asked, changing the subject. “Little flips, merman parkour on the coral?”
Ian had relaxed long enough. Without a word, he smirked and dove under the water, disappearing from view.
Mickey’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. He looked around, trying to spot that tail, but saw nothing. A few seconds of silence passed, and Mickey started to feel a little uneasy, with just the noise of the mainsail flapping against the boom where Mickey had lowered it improperly. Then he heard something behind him, and something shot out of the water and flew above him in an arc, right over the boat and then back into the water again.
“Holy shit!” Mickey said, nearly dropping his cigarette onto his shorts.
It was Ian. Mickey, once again, couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. That was actually… that was amazing. Mickey’s jaw was practically in his lap. He’d only just managed to close his mouth by the time Ian resurfaced.
“How in the fuck did you do that?” Mickey asked him. “You in the fuckin’ Cirque Du Sun or some shit?”
That had to be it. The crazy makeup, the dancer-like movements, the acrobatics, the ridiculous body. Circus freak, for sure.
Ian laughed at the first question. Before he could answer, Mickey asked a second question that he didn’t understand. He furrowed his brow instead of repeating it and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re asking me, but that’s one of my favorite things to do when I’m bored or want to show off... I’ve been jumping over things like that since I was a merlad, so I’ve gotten pretty good.”
A merlad. Cute. That was fine. Ian could keep his secrets if he wanted to. Mickey bit his chapped bottom lip. “Mhm.”
“Now it’s your turn to show me something,” Ian said. “It’s only fair.”
If Mickey wouldn’t join him in the water, he could entertain Ian another way.
🌊🧜🏻♂️🪸⛵️
co-writing with my ian, @batty4steddie 🩵