Chapter Text
The first sign that rescue had arrived came as a distant, rhythmic thudding sound through the storm.
Armitage noticed it first and his head snapped toward the cave entrance, every line of his body going taut. The delicate gills on his neck and along his ribs fluttered faster in alarm.
Poe sat up sharply against the cave wall. For a second he thought it was just thunder or the waves booming against the cliffs, but no. This sound wasn’t natural. It was mechanical, steady as a metronome.
Rotor blades.
“Oh, shit,” Poe breathed.
“I know that sound,” Armitage said, “it is a human flying contraption.”
“Yeah, helicopter,” Poe said, “probably the Coast Guard.”
On cue, between the howl of wind and crashing surf, came the unmistakable amplified crackle of a loudspeaker. “—MONTEREY COAST GUARD! IF ANYONE CAN HEAR US—”
Poe’s stomach dropped. “They must be looking for me!”
“Obviously,” Armitage said flatly. “The other humans on the beach likely assumed you drowned.”
“That was a fair assumption, seeing how I vanished under that bomb and never washed up.”
Another pulse of helicopter blades echoed overhead, closer this time. Through the narrow mouth of the cave Poe caught flashes of searchlights sweeping through the rain and sea spray. And then, the drone of a boat engine carried on the wind.
Armitage slid off the rock and moved backwards, deeper into the shadows of the flooded cavern. The wary tension in his face returned immediately.
Poe realised suddenly—and horribly—that Armitage looked afraid. Of the humans. Of being seen. “You don’t want them finding this place. Or you,” Poe said quietly.
“No.”
“Well,” Poe said, “then I should probably go, before they come any closer.” He pushed himself upright with a grimace as pain flared in his hip and shoulder. His knee nearly gave out and be had to lean on the cave wall to steady himself. Poe looked back toward the Merrow, but Armitage was still staring at the gap in the rocks and the turbulent ocean beyond. It was ridiculous—he’d known this guy—merman, whatever—for maybe two hours—but Poe didn’t really want to leave. Especially not when he looked so...frightened. But Poe’s continued presence here was putting Armitage in danger.
“Well,” Poe said awkwardly, “this has been the weirdest near-death experience of my life. Which is kinda impressive, considering my track record.”
Armitage’s expression flickered faintly and he finally looked at Poe with those pretty, sad eyes. “Your survival instincts appear underdeveloped.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a fair judgement.”
Armitage held a webbed hand out towards Poe. “I will take you close enough for them to safely retrieve you,” he said.
Poe blinked. “You don’t have to—”
“The ocean remains dangerous. You would likely drown within minutes.”
“...you really know how boost a guy’s self esteem,” Poe said, aiming to lighten the mood.
Armitage ignored that entirely. He moved closer instead, stopping directly in front of Poe in the waist-deep water of the tide pool. His eyes looked greener in the dim cave light—sea-glass green, kelp green—and more lovely than any treasure the ocean could provide.
Poe was hit with a ridiculous, stupid thought. He would absolutely kiss a merman.
Shit.
“Put your arms around my shoulders,” Armitage said.
Poe obeyed before he could do something ridiculous like try to make out with a mythical sea being. Armitage wrapped an arm firmly around Poe’s waist, pulling Poe protectively against his chest.
And then they were moving.
Poe sucked in a breath and held it as Armitage shot through the submerged passage and out into the open ocean. He was truly impressive—fast, streamlined—and made swimming through the stormy waves and rip currents seem effortless.
The storm had transformed the coastline completely. Waves exploded against the jagged cliffs in towering bursts of white spray and rain lashed sideways across the grey water. A Coast Guard helicopter hovered overhead, the downdraft further disturbing the already churning waters, and nearby a rescue boat bobbed and rolled on the swell.
Searchlights swept frantically over the sea, turning each whitecap into a blinding flash of white. Then, the searchlight landed on Poe’s face, blinding him for a moment.
“THERE!” someone shouted faintly over a loudspeaker.
Poe lifted one arm weakly, squinting into the light. “HEY! I’M HERE!”
The boat veered hard toward them and Armitage slowed immediately. The Merrow sunk lower in the dark water until only his eyes and hair visible above the waves.
Poe tightened his grip unconsciously. He wasn’t ready to let go. Armitage looked up at him and for a moment neither of them spoke. Rain streamed down Poe’s face; he must look like a drowned rat. Armitage, somehow, still managed to look beautiful even as the waves, wind and rain plastered his red hair to his face.
“Next time, try not to drown. Or get eaten.”
Poe laughed, despite everything. “No promises.” Which earned him an exasperated look.
The rescue boat was getting close now, the voices of the crew carrying over the wind.
“Jesus Christ, we’ve got him!”
“How the hell did he get all the way out here?!”
“Sir, stay where you are!”
Armitage released his hold on Poe and pushed off, backing away from the approaching humans.
“Wait—” Poe said, reaching for him.
The Merrow paused, most of him now beneath the surface and visible only as a shadow beneath the dark water. His face briefly surfaced, pale and beautiful, like someone had tried to drown a celestial body.
“I…” Poe’s throat tightened unexpectedly. God, what was he supposed to say? Thanks for saving my life and letting me see you? Also you’re the most devastatingly attractive being I’ve ever seen?
Instead he managed, “Can I see you again?”
Armitage’s expression flickered with surprise, then his eyes softened. “You are difficult not to notice.”
And with that, he disappeared beneath the waves. Nothing remained except dark water and rain and an ache in Poe’s chest that had nothing to do with the cold.
“Sir!”
Strong hands grabbed Poe under the arms and hauled him aboard the rescue boat. Someone wrapped a thermal blanket around his shoulders while another rescuer checked his pulse and started asking rapid-fire questions.
Poe barely heard any of it. He was too busy staring over the side of the boat into the storm-tossed Pacific, searching for one last glimpse of green scales beneath the water.
But there was nothing there at all.
Only the endless, deep cold of the Pacific.
The Coast Guard cutter smelled like diesel, saltwater and wet neoprene, and shuddered like it was struggling to stay in one piece as each wave smashed against the hull. Poe sat wrapped in three thermal blankets while a medic—an older woman with a terse sort of attitude that Poe suspected was due to having to deal with idiot surfers like him regularly—shone a penlight in his bad eye for what felt like the tenth time.
“Follow the light,” she said. Her name tag read ‘Kalonia’.
“I am following the light.”
“The whole way, sir.”
“My left eye’s damaged,” Poe said, trying not to sound annoyed. “It doesn’t track properly anymore.”
Kalonia paused. “Right. Sorry.”
Another Coast Guard officer—Draven, Poe thought his name was—crouched in front of him with the expression of a man trying very hard not to say what the hell is wrong with you?
“You’re incredibly lucky,” Draven said instead.
“Yeah,” Poe muttered faintly. “Heard that a lot the last few years.”
Draven glanced toward the rough ocean outside. “The surfers who called this in thought you were dead for sure. Said the current pulled you straight out past the break. Your board washed up near the reef.”
“My board?” Poe perked up immediately. “Wait, you found it?”
Draven blinked. “…Yes?”
“Is it okay?”
“You nearly drowned.”
“Yeah, but more importantly, is the board okay?”
The man stared at him for a long moment before snorting in disbelief. “Jesus Christ. You surfers are all insane.”
Apparently, his board had survived with surprisingly little damage considering everything. The leash had snapped clean off and one rail was dinged, but otherwise it was intact.
Which was more than Poe could say for himself. His entire body seemed to have decided to start throbbing, now the adrenaline had poured out of his system.
Kalonia handed him a paper cup of taupe liquid that smelled like the burned remains of something that once claimed to be coffee. Poe accepted it gratefully anyway, more so he had a warm cup to hold than from any desire to drink it.
“Should we call someone for you?” Kalonia asked. She was eyeing him with the sort of look that said she was still concerned he might belatedly drop dead any moment.
“Nah,” Poe said. “They’ll panic.”
“You almost died.”
“Exactly.”
Kalonia rubbed a hand down her face. “You should really go to a hospital.”
Poe thought about explaining that he’d spent enough time—and dollars—in hospitals to last three lifetimes already and decided against it. Instead, he said, “I’m good. Just banged up.”
Kalonia gave him a deeply sceptical look.
Poe plastered on his patented ‘I’m fine!’ smile. If it worked on his family and friends, it would work on this stranger. “I promise if I start actively dying, I’ll let somebody know.”
By the time they dropped him back near the parking lot at Sand Dollar Beach, the sun was setting in bright streaks of saffron that lit the dwindling clouds from below. The storm had passed completely, leaving the darkening sky mostly clear in its wake. Everything glittered wet beneath the sunset; cliffs painted in brown and orange watercolours, slick highway asphalt shining like a vein of silver in bedrock, the ocean a rippling expanse of coral-tinted mercury.
Poe stood beside his truck for a long moment, exhausted beyond words, and just stared at the now-peaceful waves.
Typical. Life really did enjoy fucking with him, huh?
Every inch of him hurt. His shoulder throbbed viciously from slamming into the reef. His hip and knee ached from overexertion. Salt was drying stiff against his skin and his hands still trembled, partly from cold and partly from his tremor playing up the way it always did if he overtaxed himself. He felt closer to seventy-three than thirty-three.
He should drive home, grab takeout from the Guatemalan night market down on Silver Lake, then sit in a hot bath for an hour and try to forget any of this ever happened.
He absolutely should not spend another second near this beach.
Of course, thirty minutes later, he found himself driving slowly south along Highway One toward Plaskett Creek Campground. Because the mere thought of driving four-to-five hours back to LA right now made his entire body threaten mutiny.
That was definitely the only reason.
Definitely not because a beautiful Irish merman lived somewhere beneath those dark waves.
Definitely not because Poe desperately wanted to see him again.
Totally unrelated.
The campground host was thankfully still around when Poe pulled in, sitting in a camp chair outside her airstream, reading a very battered copy of The Old Man and the Sea by the warm, yellow light that spilled through the window.
“Well hello,” she said. “Need a site?”
“Yeah,” Poe said, “just for the night.”
She squinted at him through glasses with lenses as thick as the bottom of a beer bottle. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“Surfing?”
“Near-death experience, actually.”
“That’ll do it,” she said, chuckling. “Kid, I like you.” She held out a wizened hand for him to shake. “Name’s Maz.”
“Poe,” Poe said, “nice to meet you, m’am.”
“Handsome and polite?” she smiled, filling out a form. “If I were oh, thirty years younger, I’d think about flirting.”
Poe grinned and paid for a basic site, then hesitated as she handed over the permit tag.
Okay. This was, potentially, a way to get reported to the authorities for his own safety. But then again, today had already included being rescued by a mythical sea creature, so maybe the threshold for insanity had shifted somewhat.
Poe cleared his throat. “Hey, uh...random question.”
Maz looked amused immediately. “That usually means it’s going to be a weird one.”
“Have you ever heard stories around here about...” Poe lowered his voice slightly, “...mermaids?”
Maz stared at him, lifting her glasses up to fix him with a scrutinising squint.
Poe gave his most charming smile and tried not to look criminally insane.
Finally, Maz snorted. “You hit your head out there, kid?”
“Probably.”
“Well. People talk about hearing singing sometimes out along the coast. Especially around Sand Dollar,” she said.
Poe straightened slightly, immediately alert. “Singing?”
“Yeah. Weird, mournful kind of singing, out over the water at night.” Maz shrugged. “The more superstitious locals say it’s sirens, leading the unwary to a watery grave.”
Sirens? Interesting. Armitage had very specifically said he was not a siren.
“And what do you think?” Poe asked, aiming for nonchalance.
Maz leaned in. “I think people hear the wind in the sea caves and jump to conclusions,” she said, “but who am I to say? If I’ve learned one thing over the course of my life, it’s never to say anything is impossible. Heaven knows there are more strange things under the sun than either of us could imagine.”
“Oh, I dunno,” Poe muttered, “I could imagine a lot.”
“What’s the matter, kid?” Maz chuckled, “see something weird out there?”
“No,” Poe said, then, “I dunno. Maybe.”
The water in the campground showers was, sadly, barely warm and barely potable. But Poe still felt better for washing away the sand and salt that had dried uncomfortably in every crevice and turned his hair into a nest of tangled, salt-stiff curls. Poe stood under the water for nearly twenty minutes, lost in thought while the trickle of water eased the ache in his muscles. Bruises had already started blooming dark across his shoulder and ribs where he had hit the reef.
He looked pretty rough. He felt pretty rough.
Honestly, though? He’d felt worse. Much worse.
And it was totally worth the creak in his knee and the pinch in his hip as he walked to have met a mythical sea being. Especially one who looked like he’d been hewn out of marble and moonlight and like, magic sparkles or something.
Shit. Poe was already—badly—waxing poetic? He was in so much trouble.
Afterward, he changed into sweatpants and an old hoodie, then sat in the back of his truck inhaling half a pasta salad, two protein bars and leftover fried chicken from his cooler with the ravenous intensity of a man who had recently escaped both drowning and possible shark consumption.
Even BeeBee, the canine equivalent of a vacuum cleaner, would’ve been impressed.
Once he’d eaten enough to stop feeling hollow, Poe grabbed his phone and hiked a little way up into the Los Padres forest—which was now dark enough to be slightly dangerous—until he finally got enough signal bars to load Google.
Then he typed: irish merrow mythology
The results were...both unhelpful and mildly concerning all at once. Sources were few and far between and the ones he could find varied wildly in their opinion.
“Okay,” Poe muttered to himself as he scrolled. “So they’re more peaceful than sirens and definitely don’t eat people. I’m counting that as a win.”
Some stories even described them marrying humans, which was...cute. Very cute. Poe ignored the way it made something ridiculous and hopeful rise in his chest.
Others tales though, were significantly less cute.
“Male Merrow are known to trap sailors’ souls in cages beneath the sea,” Poe read aloud, “and keep them there forever. Sounds...damp.”
There were drawings, too. Most depicted female Merrow as breathtakingly beautiful: pale, green-hued skin; long green hair; delicate features; classic mermaid stuff. Like the Little Mermaid, if she’d had a run in with a Saint Patrick’s Day parade.
The male Merrow were less aesthetically blessed.
Bulbous eyes. Razor-sharp teeth. Scaly skin. Fish-like faces.
Poe frowned at his screen. Armitage looked nothing like them. He looked...well, beautiful. Ethereally so. All pale skin and freckled shoulders and an elegant, sharp-cheekboned face. And his hair definitely wasn’t green. It was a rich ginger, shot through with copper-red highlights.
But Armitage had said he was unlike other male Merrow.
Poe leaned slowly back against a tree trunk.
“Oh,” he murmured. Maybe he was half-Merrow? Half-human? Or half some other mythical creature Poe didn’t even know existed outside of storybooks?
And if that was true...perhaps that was why his father had treated him badly. Poe recalled the quiet, careful way Armitage had spoken when he said: ’My father was cruel’. Poe knew what it was like to carry parental disappointment around. Even now that things were better between Poe and his Dad, the past sometimes still felt like a wound that had never fully healed.
And Poe knew all about carrying wounds that would never go away.
He closed the browser. What Reddit user Mermagic28 claimed on r/mythology was one thing, but actually having met Armitage was an entirely different kettle of fish. Or fish-men. The internet said Merrow drowned sailors and stole their souls, but Armitage had dragged Poe out of a rip current and hidden him safely in a cave. The closest Poe had come to harm was Armitage’s scowl as he asked deeply judgemental questions about surfing.
Folklore and reality did not seem to line up.
Poe, by nature, didn’t like to form opinions based on rumour and stereotypes. Hell, he was a disabled, half-Guatemalan, half-Cuban immigrant living in a country where people looked at a brown guy with a limp and a bum eye and assumed he was either a Door-Dash driver or criminal. Or both. Poe was not about to assume Armitage was a monster. Not when all the evidence thus far suggested otherwise.
Poe should have climbed into the back of his truck, curled up, and gone to sleep hours ago.
Instead, close to midnight, he found himself walking back down toward Sand Dollar Beach wrapped in a hoodie beneath a sky so impossibly huge it gave him vertigo.
The residual storm-clouds had disappeared over the horizon and left behind an expanse of pure velvet black. Stars spilled overhead like a scattering of diamonds. Below, the Pacific stretched dark and glassy, moonlight reflecting off the tops of the waves in lustrous ripples of pewter.
Poe shoved his hands into his pockets against the cold breeze and walked barefoot across the damp sand.
“You are absolutely losing your mind,” he informed himself, quietly. Sane people did not go looking for a mermen at midnight after almost dying in a two-for-one drowning and shark attack deal.
Then, Poe heard something that made him stop dead.
Singing.
The sound drifted over the water so softly at first he almost mistook it for the wind, just like Maz had said. But as he listened more closely, it was unmistakably a voice, singing mournfully. The voice was hauntingly beautiful - beautiful enough that it made Poe’s chest physically hurt.
The language was unfamiliar, flowing and melodic. Irish maybe. Or something older. Poe couldn’t understand a single word, but somehow he understood the feelings behind it: grief, loneliness, a longing so deep it became unbearable.
The sound hollowed his chest and wrapped around his mind like cold water. Without thinking, Poe took a step toward the ocean. Then another.
As the singing grew sweeter, Poe’s heartbeat slowed strangely and the dark water pulled at him with sudden awful temptation.
Just walk forward, the song seemed to say, just keep going. It would be easy
Quiet.
Peaceful.
No more pain. No more guilt. No more grief over everything he had lost.
Poe reached the edge of the surf before his brain finally caught up with what his body was doing. The splash of cold water over his ankles roused him.
“What the fuck?” he gasped, stumbling backwards. His pulse slammed hard enough he could feel it in his teeth.
Shit.
That had been...deeply alarming.
Poe stared at the ocean, breathing hard, and tried not to listen to how the song was telling him to come closer to the water.
Poe called out, “...Armitage?” and the singing stopped instantly.
Silence crashed down over the beach. For a moment, there was nothing but Poe’s breathing and the waves whispering over the sand. Then, a pale shape rose slowly from the dark water without causing as much as a ripple.
Wet copper hair, slicked back. Razor-sharp cheekbones. Pearlescent, green-toned skin glittering under the moonlight.
Armitage.
He was real. Apparently, Poe hadn’t lost his mind in some adrenaline-hypoxia-hypothermia induced mania. Poe let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
The Merrow watched him from the shallows with wide green eyes.
“You are here again,” he said. “Is all well?”
Poe laughed weakly. “Yeah. I just wanted to...see you. And I, uh...heard singing.”
Armitage’s expression tightened into one of concern. “You should not listen to my singing. It can be dangerous.”
“Yeah,” Poe said, “little late on that warning, buddy. It made me wanna walk directly into the ocean and drown myself.”
Armitage looked uncomfortable, eyes cast down. “That is...” he paused, “unfortunately what my singing does to humans.”
“I thought you said you weren’t a siren?”
“I am not!” Armitage said, clearly offended. “Sirens do not hold the monopoly on enchanting singing, you know.”
Poe held his hands up. “Sorry for not knowing the subtleties of all the varieties of merfolk. I’ll make sure to study my bestiary when I get home.”
Armitage narrowed his eyes. “You do not possess a bestiary.”
“You don’t know that. I could have a bestiary.”
“I am surprised you even know the word ’bestiary’.”
Poe smiled despite himself. “Hey, I’ve played D and D. I know things.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Armitage sniffed. Then; “I did not attempt to lure you into the ocean intentionally.”
“That’s somehow worse,” Poe teased. “I nearly wandered willingly into the Pacific like the world’s dumbest lemming and you weren’t even trying to steal my soul.”
Armitage shifted subtly in the shallows, moonlight gilding the sharp lines of his face. “I apologise,” he said. “Next time I will endeavour to only drown you deliberately.”
Poe barked out a laugh, which echoed off the cliffs. Armitage startled at the sound but then a small, pleased smile crept into the corner of his mouth.
After a pause, he asked: “Are you...well?”
The honest concern in his voice caught Poe completely off guard. “Yeah,” he said automatically. “I’m okay.” He was so used to that question now—after everything—that he replied before even considering if he actually was okay.
Armitage’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he did not believe him.
“I mean,” Poe amended, “I almost got drowned-slash-eaten by a shark this morning, accidentally got the full siren treatment tonight—”
“Not a siren—” Armitage interjected.
“—and I’m pretty sure my shoulder’s turning fifty shades of purple under this hoodie, but overall? Could be worse.”
“You are unusually resilient for a human.”
“That’s one word for it. Most people usually go with ‘idiotic’.”
Armitage studied him for another lingering moment before moving closer through the water. Poe’s breath caught as the Merrow emerged from shallows and pulled himself smoothly to lie on the wet sand where the tide lapped gently around his tail. Moonlight painted his pale skin in soft silver-green tones while seawater glimmered over iridescent jade scales. His tail stretched out behind him, elegant yet powerful, the translucent fins catching starlight every time they shifted.
He looked unreal.
Not just beautiful. Enchanting. Bewitching. Like something you’d find painted on the ceiling of an ancient church.
Poe sat down heavily in the damp sand before his exhausted legs gave out entirely.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Waves rolled softly onto shore, lapping at Armitage’s body.
Then, unable to tolerate silence for long, Poe said; “So...I googled the Merrow.”
Armitage frowned immediately. “I do not know what that means.”
Duh, of course.
“Yeah, fair. You probably don’t have broadband at the bottom of the sea.”
“I do not know what that is either.”
“Okay, so, Google is like...” Poe waved a hand vaguely, “a tool humans use to research things. On phones.”
Armitage’s expression shifted instantly into mild disdain. “I know what phones are.”
“You do?”
“It is difficult not to.” Armitage rested his chin against crossed arms. “Humans are obsessed with them.”
Poe barked a laugh.
“I have observed many humans using them to capture images of the ocean. And then, inevitably, dropping them. So many of your kind risk their lives attempting to retrieve them from the sea,” Armitage continued gravely, “even when it is clearly impossible.”
“...Yeah, that sounds about right,” Poe said. He didn’t mention the time he fell from his swan boat into Echo Park lake while trying to save his iPhone from a watery grave.
“I find quite a few at the bottom of the sea,” Armitage said. “Though they are usually damaged beyond repair.”
Poe grinned helplessly. “You’ve basically become a very judgemental underwater lost-property office.”
“I do not know what that means.”
“Yeah...not important, buddy.”
Armitage’s tail flicked lazily through the shallow surf, but his eyes never left Poe’s face.
Poe hesitated briefly before saying, “Anyway. I looked up the Merrow and...” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Apparently male Merrow are usually kinda...different looking to you.”
Armitage went still and Poe immediately regretted bringing it up.
Silence.
Then Armitage looked away toward the dark horizon.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I am...an aberration.”
Something in the way he said it made Poe’s heart ache. He wasn’t angry, but more...resigned. Like he’d been told it so many times that he’d accepted it as truth. Poe shifted closer across the wet sand before he could think better of it.
“Is that why you uh, ran away?” he asked gently. “I mean, swam away, or whatever the correct terminology is here.”
“One reason amongst many.” Armitage sighed, gaze fixed somewhere far out across the moonlit ocean. “I am a pariah amongst my kind.” His voice had gone as distant as his eyes now, deliberately emotionless. “My father is bonded to a fellow Merrow named Maritelle. But I am not her offspring.”
Poe frowned.
“In truth,” Armitage continued, “I do not know who—or what—my mother was. Only that I am clearly not a pure-blood Merrow. My father hates me for it.”
Poe stared at him in disbelief. “Well, that’s stupid.”
Armitage blinked at him.
“No seriously,” Poe said, angry now on Armitage’s behalf. “That’s objectively ridiculous. It’s his doing. You didn’t exactly participate in your own conception.”
Armitage looked faintly startled by the bluntness of that.
“Logic means very little to my father,” he said after a moment. “And he is influential amongst the Merrow. What he believes, others follow. Thus, I was treated...poorly.”
The understatement there felt enormous. Poe edged one hand across the sand, bringing it closer to Armitage’s elbow. Armitage glanced down sharply but did not move away.
“I remained for many years regardless,” Armitage continued. “Until eventually, I simply could not bear it any longer. So I left.”
Poe touched his fingertips to the cool, damp skin of Armitage’s forearm. Armitage swallowed audibly but allowed the contact.
“I crossed half the world,” Armitage said. “Eventually I found this coastline. There are no Merrow here.” His expression shifted faintly, almost fond. “Only elephant seals. And they do not care if I am as ugly as their males are.”
Poe stared at him. “...ugly?”
Armitage glanced at him uncertainly, clearly expecting agreement.
“Are you kidding me?” Poe said, tightening his grip on Armitage’s arm.
The merman frowned in confusion.
“Armitage,” Poe said with absolute sincerity, “I have literally never seen anyone more beautiful than you in my entire life.”
Silence.
Armitage stared at him, disbelief writ clearly upon his face. Then his expression shuttered into irritation.
“You are being dishonest,” he said.
Poe barked out an incredulous laugh. “No! Not even a little! Dude, you’re stunning.”
Armitage continued to look deeply unconvinced.
“Seriously,” Poe insisted, “you’re gorgeous. Like, top five mythical creature.”
Armitage’s tail fin flicked sharply against wet sand and his pale cheeks coloured in a soft blush.
“¡Ay, dios mío!” Poe exclaimed, “you’re embarrassed?”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are. You’re blushing.”
“I simply think humans—and you in particular—have extremely questionable judgement.”
Poe grinned helplessly. “Yeah, that’s probably true. But that doesn’t make me wrong.”
That finally earned him something small and fleeting and precious; a smile. Tiny, transient, but real. And somehow that brief expression hit Poe harder than almost drowning had earlier.
Coño.
He was in trouble.
Deep trouble.
Falling for a mythical sea-faring fae was really not ideal at all.
Poe opened his mouth to say something else, but he was ambushed by a massive yawn so wide his jaw audibly cracked.
Armitage immediately looked concerned. “You require sleep,” he said.
“Yes, mom.”
That earned a slightly confused scowl. “Humans are fragile creatures.”
“Hey, I survived bouncing off the blacktop at Laguna Seca at two-hundred kilometres an hour. That’s not exactly fragile.”
“I only understood about twenty percent of that,” Armitage said, “and none of it had any mitigating effect on your biological need to sleep. Go to bed, Poe.”
Poe really didn’t want to leave.
The thought of walking back up to the campground while Armitage disappeared beneath the waves again made something unpleasant twist in his chest.
“I’ll come back tomorrow?” Poe said, “If you want?”
Armitage looked at him for a long moment, then he said, hopefully; “Of course you will.”
The next morning dawned painfully beautiful.
Bright sunlight poured across the Pacific, turning the water into hammered silver and turquoise glass. There was no evidence of yesterday’s storm; only a clean autumn breeze and long, rolling swells breaking against the cliffs below.
Poe, however, felt more painful than beautiful. Frankly, he felt like he’d been beaten against the cliffs too.
Every muscle hurt. Even his ass. And not in the good ’got laid so hard I’ll be walking odd for forty-eight hours’ way.
On further inspection, his shoulder was spectacularly bruised, his hip ached, his knee crackled ominously whenever he put weight on it, and his left hand still had that faint uncontrollable tremor that always got worse when he overdid things physically.
Definitely no surfing today. Probably no existing comfortably today either. Realistically, he needed the painkillers he never let himself take anymore and to sleep for about a week.
And yet.
From the moment Poe opened his eyes in the back of the truck, one thought had immediately shoved aside all common sense; I need to see Armitage.
Which was ridiculous. Stupid. Probably concerning in a way that would make a qualified therapist sigh and shake their head.
Shit.
He was attached already, wasn’t he?
Poe scrubbed both hands down his face with a groan. “Fantastic,” he muttered to himself. “Nearly die once and immediately emotionally imprint on the hot merman. Way to be clingy, Dameron.”
Even BeeBee would judge him for this. And BeeBee ate lizards, threw them up on Poe’s bed, then ate them again.
And it wasn’t even like Poe could bemoan his situation to his friends! They’d have him sectioned faster than he could say teratophilia.
And yet, one hour—and one breakfast of a slightly-squashed protein bar and gritty, instant coffee made on his tiny camping stove—later, Poe headed down toward Sand Dollar Beach in his wetsuit carrying snorkel gear, flippers, flashlight and a diving knife strapped carefully to his belt.
Because if he was going swimming in shark territory, he was at least going to pretend might be able to stab a great white to death and wouldn’t be screaming for his mer-maybe-boyfriend to save his ass again.
The beach was busier than yesterday. Surfers dotted the lineup while a handful of tourists and families picked carefully over the tide pools and rocks farther downshore. Children shrieked and laughed whenever the gently-breaking waves splashed them. A couple walked hand-in-hand along the tideline. Poe sort of wished they’d all get sucked into a waterspout or washed away by a freak wave or something. Because there would be no chance in hell that Armitage could come anywhere near the beach with all these humans romping around.
Poe still scanned the water automatically. Of course, there was no sign of copper-red hair or an elegant green tail.
Well, only one thing for it; Poe would have to go looking.
“Again,” he muttered to himself, leg aching as he pulled on his flippers, “this is a terrible idea.”
Then, he walked—awkwardly, backwards—straight into the ocean anyway.
The cold hit hard immediately.
Poe hissed through his teeth as Pacific water flooded into his wetsuit, before his body adjusted enough to start moving relatively comfortably through it.
Today, the ocean was less mad at him specifically, the waves gently rocking him as he floated on the surface instead of trying to smash him directly into the sea floor and hold him there until he tapped out. Sunlight pierced deep into the water in shifting gold-green shafts while forests of kelp swayed beneath the surface like an army of elegant dancers.
Poe swam along the coastline, face down in the water to check for sharks and mermen alike, only occasionally lifting his head to scan the rocks.
He spat out his snorkel and shouted; “Armitage?” His voice seemed small and lost out here, instantly carried away over the endless waves by the breeze.
There was no response, except for a gull screaming overhead.
Poe swam farther.
“Hey, mer-dude!”
Still nothing.
Huh. Maybe Armitage was just farther offshore tending to whatever mysterious underwater kelp empire he apparently supervised. Or down deep, collecting lost iPhones and munching on sea urchins.
After half an hour though, concern started creeping unpleasantly into Poe’s chest. Because Armitage had said Poe was difficult to miss. Which meant if he was somewhere nearby, surely he’d heard him by now. Poe wasn’t exactly being subtle here, what with all the splashing around and yelling.
Hmm.
Poe floated for a moment, adjusting his mask. Perhaps Armitage had heard him but...was avoiding him. Perhaps he’d decided it had been a mistake to rescue the noisy, annoying human and no longer wished to see him again. Perhaps he’d just forgotten about Poe already. For all Poe knew, Armitage could have dopey surfers and sailers mooning over him all up and down the California coastline.
Perhaps, once again, Poe was reading more into a relationship than was really there.
He sighed. Well, only one way to find out.
“Okay,” he muttered. “Guess I’m doing this. Stalking a merman now.”
He took a deep breath and dove.
Cold water closed over him and the underwater world swallowed sound almost completely. Everything became drifting green light, wavering shadows, and swaying kelp.
Poe kicked downwards and scanned the sea floor.
Nothing.
Well, not nothing. Fish. Seaweed. Stones. Shells. The ubiquitous sand dollar.
But no Merrow.
He surfaced for air, took a half-dozen deep breaths, then dove once more.
Still nothing.
Again.
And again.
By the fifth dive his lungs were burning, his leg aching from propelling himself down below the waves.
And then, he saw it. A flash of green. Copper hair floating weightlessly.
There you are.
Poe almost inhaled seawater in relief before realising something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Armitage was sitting on the sea floor between an outcropping of stone and towering strands of kelp. He was tangled badly in something, tail trapped in an uncomfortable position.
As Poe drew closer he could see it was netting - fishing net, discarded by some unethical, idiotic fisherman. And now Armitage was utterly trapped by it. Armitage looked up, spotted Poe and his expression immediately melted into relief.
Which was incredibly gratifying.
Poe kicked downward hard, thighs burning, only to discover there was a damn seal tangled up in the net too.
The poor thing twisted frantically, huge dark eyes wild with panic while the net wrapped more tightly around both it and Armitage’s tail. The seal writhed furiously the moment Poe approached and snapped its jaws.
Armitage looked distressed—actually frightened—and reached for Poe with one webbed hand. The net had wound tightly around his tail fins and lower torso, cutting painfully between scales. Poe immediately pulled the diving knife from his belt.
Armitage grabbed his wrist before he had chance to start. “The seal,” he said, voice oddly muffled and distorted by the water but still audible.
Poe froze. He could talk underwater?! Okay, very cool.
But not the time to focus on that. There were more pressing issues at hand than Armitage’s magic vocal cords.
Apparently noticing Poe’s stunned expression, Armitage said; “The seal needs to surface to breathe. I do not.”
Of course! Armitage had gills as well as lungs. He could stay down here indefinitely. The seal, however, being a mere mammal like Poe, could not. And the thing was only making the whole situation worse with its constant struggling, pulling the net more tightly around itself and Armitage
It made sense to focus on the drowning—and increasingly distressed—seal first.
Poe nodded sharply and started sawing through the net.
It took forever.
Every thirty seconds or so, his lungs screamed hard enough that he had to surface for air and suck in a few desperate breaths, before diving again immediately.
The seal panicked every time he got too close, snapping its jaws in terror. Poe nearly lost a finger once, until Armitage reached out, laid a hand on the seal’s blubbery neck, and said something in a language Poe couldn’t understand. The seal stilled and after that, things went a lot more smoothly.
Finally, the last strands snapped free and the seal bolted instantly into deeper water like an absolute asshole, without even a thank-you bark.
Poe surfaced again, dragged in a huge breath, then dove back toward Armitage. The Merrow had gone still, less frightened now the seal was safe and Poe was systematically slicing through the net. The moment the final strands loosened, Armitage shuddered visibly in relief. He immediately grabbed Poe around the waist and propelled them both through the water at impossible speed.
Poe barely had time to blink before they shot through the hidden passage into the sea cave.
When they surfaced, Armitage was furious.
“Humans leave these things everywhere,” he snapped, tearing the remaining strands of net from his tail with movements made jerky with anger. “Nets and lines and hooks! Creatures become trapped and die constantly because of them!”
Poe pulled off his mask, panting slightly. “Yeah,” he said, “I know.”
“They kill seals. Dolphins. Turtles.” Armitage’s voice had gone sharp with outrage. “Even whales. His expression darkened further, seaglass eyes stormy. “And Merrow.”
Poe’s chest burned at the thought of other Merrow—sapient, beautiful beings—trapped and left to die because of the thoughtlessness of people.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Armitage blinked at him, startled. “It is not your fault.”
“I know, but—”
“You care for the ocean,” Armitage interrupted.
“I mean, yeah,” Poe said. “How do you know that?”
Armitage went quiet. After a beat, he said; “You always smile at the water.”
Poe stilled.
“Your eyes carry sorrow,” Armitage continued, “your smile is one of a man who pretends he is well for the sake of those around him. But not when you look at the sea. Then, your smile is real. Your eyes...bright.”
Poe’s chest suddenly felt much too small for his heart. Hell, the cave suddenly felt much too small to contain it.
“You look at the ocean like…” Armitage hesitated slightly, choosing his words, “a lover.”
Oh.
Oh wow.
Poe’s heartbeat stumbled hard enough to be medically concerning. That...was not the sort of thing one learned from two brief encounters. That was something people Poe had known for years wouldn’t have noticed.
“How long have you been watching me?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Armitage immediately looked away. Instead of answering, he shifted awkwardly against the sand and started examining the injuries to his tail.
Poe’s eyes were drawn to the painful-looking abrasions all over the tail. Several scales were bent awkwardly and the skin between them looked raw and irritated.
Armitage plucked one loose scale free with a wince. A drop of pearlescent, red blood immediately welled in the gap.
Poe made a distressed noise. “Oh, Armitage.”
“It is insignificant.”
“That looked deeply significant!”
“I heal rapidly,” he said, “unlike humans.” He held the scale out for Poe to take.
Its surface shimmered with strange iridescence; not just emerald but blue and pink and pearly white, like a polished abalone shell.
Beautiful.
“I suppose we are even now,” Armitage said, voice soft. “I saved you. You saved me in return.”
Poe accepted the scale carefully and pulled off his wetsuit gloves so he could run his fingers all over it. The scale was lightweight, but hard, the texture more like a pearl than a fish scale, and it was as smooth as a polished gemstone.
“Can I keep it?” Poe asked, mesmerised.
Armitage went still and the intensity of his gaze made Poe’s pulse jump.
“Do you…” Armitage hesitated, “wish to keep it?” The question felt heavier than it should have. Like it was important in some way that Poe didn’t understand.
Poe frowned slightly, confused by the sudden tension.
“Yeah,” he said honestly. “Very much.” Poe turned the scale between his fingers. “It’ll remind me you’re real.”
That earned him the faintest flush across pale freckled cheeks. Which was devastatingly adorable.
Poe was absolutely doomed.
“Then you may keep it,” Armitage said. His tail flicked once against the sand—his flustered tell!—then settled again. “But do not show it to anyone.”
Poe looked up immediately. “I won’t. I’d never do anything to put you in danger.”
The blush deepened slightly, followed by another flustered tail flick. God, he was so unbelievably pretty, and made more so by the pink flush painting his cheekbones.
Poe shifted closer instinctively and examined the injuries along the tail more carefully.
“Can I?” he asked.
Armitage tensed, but nodded once.
Very gently, Poe brushed careful fingers along one bent scale. Armitage inhaled sharply.
“Sorry!” Poe said, drawing his hands back.
“No,” Armitage said quickly. “Continue.”
Poe softened his touch further, fingertips barely grazing the iridescent scales while checking for damage. The scales were smooth and cool beneath his fingers and overlapped each other in neat lines, as if someone had sewn each one deliberately in place.
Slowly—very slowly—Armitage relaxed beneath Poe’s hands. His tail drifted slightly closer. Poe swallowed hard. This felt...intimate. More intimate than Poe had intended.
Dangerously intimate.
Then Armitage lifted one webbed hand hesitantly toward Poe’s face. Poe’s breath caught as long, clawed fingers brushed carefully through damp curls. Armitage’s touch was tentative, curious, gentle.
Poe leaned into the touch, seeking more contact, and Armitage froze. Their eyes met, celadon green on deep brown, and the whole world narrowed to the cave and the sound of waves lapping gently at the entrance.
Poe became suddenly, acutely aware of several things simultaneously: Armitage’s hand in his hair; that their faces had drifted very close together; how softly the light caught in Armitage’s pale green eyes; how badly Poe wanted to close the scant space between them and kiss him.
Which was...well, complicated didn’t cover it.
Poe did not kiss the merman.
Even though every atom of his being screamed at him to do exactly that. Because for one thing, Poe didn’t even know if Armitage liked men. Or humans. Or kissing in general. For all Poe knew, Merrow courtship involved aggressively slapping each other with fish and exchanging shell collections.
And yeah, okay, he had read online that some Merrow women married humans, but that didn’t automatically mean Armitage wanted some idiot Californian surfer trying to climb him in a sea cave.
So Poe, heroically, kept his mouth firmly to himself.
Instead, he focused very intently on the damaged scales beneath his fingertips while Armitage continued combing careful claws through Poe’s damp curls. The touch was gentle for hands clearly designed for tearing fish into tiny little pieces.
Poe tried not to think too hard about how much he liked it.
Eventually, reality crept back in. The angle of sunlight outside the cave had shifted noticeably. Afternoon already.
Reluctantly, Poe said; “I should probably go soon.” He wished he could shove the words back inside the moment he said them, because Armitage’s hand stilled in his hair and his expression turned downcast instantly.
“You wish to leave?”
“No!” Poe said quickly enough that Armitage’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t want to. But, I have to. Unfortunately.”
The merman tilted his head in a way that made him look like a curious puppy.
“I gotta head back to LA,” Poe added.
“…LA?”
“Los Angeles.”
Armitage looked at Poe blankly.
“It’s south along the coast,” Poe explained. “About four or five hours driving.”
Armitage looked horrified. “Four to five hours?”
“Yeah.”
“Over land?”
“...yes?”
“And you live there willingly?”
Poe laughed. “I mean, not willingly. Rent prices kinda hold people hostage.” This clearly clarified absolutely nothing for Armitage. “I actually live about an hour inland from the beach.”
The merman stared at him in open disbelief now. “An hour from the sea? That sounds intolerable.” Armitage looked genuinely distressed by the idea. “You are that far from the sea at all times?”
“Well, not all the time. I come surfing every chance I get.”
“But you sleep there?”
“Usually, yeah.”
Armitage looked at him with ill concealed pity.
“Can you even survive on land?” Poe said. He’d read those tales of Merrow marrying humans from time to time, but he wanted to know if that was really possible. Y’know, just out of curiosity. Not because he was entertaining the idea of bringing a merman home with him.
“Yes,” Armitage said, “Merrow may take legs instead of a tail if we wish.”
“You can WHAT?”
Armitage frowned faintly at the interruption. “It is unpleasant, however.”
“Hold on. Back up. You can just—” Poe gestured vaguely downward. “Legs?”
“Yes.”
“Like, human legs?”
“No, crab legs.”
Poe blinked. “Are you for real right now?”
Armitage rolled his eyes. “Of course not. That would be ridiculous. My legs are human in appearance. It would make no sense whatsoever for them to be otherwise.”
Poe’s brain blue-screened for several seconds. “Buddy, none of this makes any sense whatsoever anyway.”
“It feels...” Armitage continued, searching for the right word, “incorrect. Like an itch beneath the skin constantly. A pulling sensation.” His expression grew distant. “Some Merrow endure it for love. But eventually most return to the sea.”
Poe understood that immediately. “Honestly?” he admitted, “I get it.” Poe looked out toward the ocean beyond the cave entrance where the sunlight was turning the waves molten gold. “Hell, if I could breathe underwater, I’d probably live down there too.”
Armitage’s eyes lingered on him approvingly at that. “The sea calls strongly to you.”
“Yeah,” Poe nodded. “My mom was always the same. Dad said she was a big surfer when they were younger.” Maybe that was part of why he kept coming back to the water over and over again despite the injuries and the risks.
Out there, things made sense.
More sense than they ever had on land, anyway.
But thinking about his mom right now was probably not going to improve his already melancholy mood. So he stood reluctantly, his joints protesting immediately.
“Ow. Mierde.”
“You are damaged,” Armitage observed.
“Rude.”
“It is objectively true.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be magically-healing sea-princes.”
Armitage looked confused by this statement. “I am not of the royal household.”
Poe smiled despite himself. The naivety was ridiculously endearing.
“Can I come back next weekend?” he asked. He really, really wanted to.
Armitage scrunched his nose, clearly genuinely surprised by Poe’s request.
“You wish to?”
“Yeah.”
“You would travel so far over land simply to...” he hesitated for a beat, “see me again?” The disbelief in his voice hit Poe right in the feelings.
“Absolutely,” Poe said without hesitation.
Armitage regarded him for a long moment, studying his face as if looking for some sign of deceit. Then, slowly, cautiously, he reached up and touched Poe’s cheek. Gentle claws brushed against Poe’s skin in a way that made goosebumps crawl up his spine. Armitage’s other hand slipped into Poe’s curls again. Poe leaned instinctively into the touch before he could stop himself and Armitage inhaled softly. Something vulnerable flickered briefly across his face.
“Fill ar ais chugam, a dhuine aisteach,” he said, his lilting, Irish accent curling warmly around the words.
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” Poe said. “I have absolutely no idea what it means, but it’s beautiful nonetheless.”
The faintest hint of amusement touched Armitage’s mouth. “I know.”
Poe smiled helplessly. He was so completely screwed.
Eventually, he forced himself to step backward toward the cave entrance where the ocean surged softly around his legs.
Armitage remained half-submerged in the pool, pale skin glowing beneath the shifting water, green eyes fixed entirely on Poe.
“Next weekend,” Poe promised again.
Armitage’s tail flicked once through the water. “I will be waiting.”
Poe turned reluctantly and swam back out through the hidden passage toward open sea. The scale rested safely in the pouch on his belt the entire way back to shore. And with every stroke, Poe felt like he was leaving something important behind in that cave. Like a part of himself had remained there beside the ocean and a lonely, beautiful merman with copper-red hair and sorrowful, green eyes.