spaces_between | This isn't the Little Mermaid

[Humans were dirty, wasteful but cunning creatures. They ruled the land in a manner that reminded him of the parasites of the sea, clinging to a resource and exploiting it until all that was useful was gone. They changed entire aspects of the land - and sea - to suit them rather than accept nature as it was and define themselves around it. He didn't understand how those apex predators did what they did, but there were beautiful things that were found.

Most of them were shiny. He liked shiny things like bits of metal, stones that glowed in the sun, and sometimes even bits of glass that came to the sea. He liked odd things as well, things that defied their own order in the world.

Steve Rogers was like that, small, weak, prey-like, unfit to live and yet did. At first he had followed out of curiosity and partially senses a free meal, but the little human had surprised him by stepping up and taking on a group of four superior humans and protecting a cat (he later ate that) from being abused. It was such strange behaviour that he had stayed to watch. And again. And again until months had passed.

Perhaps that was why he was here under a promise that he would, even if he didn't understand or care for promises. If he was asked to be here and told when, he would be there and no other words were required to pull him from that course of action. Under the bridge was where they met, and this particular part where land met sea had plenty of bridges where the hunting was good and the sun was blocked out. He hunted mostly at night when the waterways were deserted and people had less chance of seeing him.

He was James Buchanan Barnes; Steve had named him such, and he had been intensely pleased to be named after the dead. Steve called him Bucky mostly, but assured him that that too was part of the name, that he had taken it all. He hadn't contested by saying he hadn't because he hadn't eaten the dead Barnes, but that would come in time once he had convinced Steve to take him to see his namesake. Then he and Barnes would be one, and it would be the ultimate passage of memory that no human could truly understand. It was an honour that he would bestow because Steve was strange and warm and wonderful and curious and had given him this name.

James stayed under the bridge as they had planned, his long scaly tail curled protectively around his human torso The black scales made him almost invisible in the shadows there, but his eyes glowed with a green light that allowed him to see well in the dark. He couldn't smell anything but blood and his jaws worked as he consumed the latter half of a stray dog that had gotten too close to the water. His sharp teeth easily sheered meat from the bones and then cracked bones themselves so he could suck out the marrow and obtained the required nutrients for continued growth.

Near the edge of his protective circle of his tail lay two fish, freshly caught. He had been aware enough that he hadn't used his paralyzing agent in his claws. They were freshly gutted and that returned to the sea. Steve could be late if some curious thing caught the other man's attention, usually some kind of fight, but Steve would come. Always the one who was curious and doted on him came, teaching him more English though he was now extremely proficient at it. He'd even lured other humans with his voice rather than his song; it was a new arsenal for his hunting techniques.

So he waited and ate, blood spattering him and uncaring about it. Steve would come.]

Edited 2015-03-16 15:15 (UTC)

[ Anyone else, Steve thought when he tucked his jacket tighter around his slender body, working to keep the cold out, anyone else in his situation would have run away from the sea-creature that came up from the depths, all sharp teeth and claws and with such a gorgeous, shimmering tail.

Anyone would have screamed, quailed in terror at how otherworldly he was, how he was so obviously different from the world of men, a devastatingly beautiful being whispered of only in fairytales, often uttered in horror, wistfulness and fascination alike. Mermaids -- well, mermaids weren't like the more famous, watered down ones. Mermaids were terrifying creatures of lore, magnificent in the way storms were, ruthless and uncaring of humanity, meant to be prey or left to die.

But he had saved Steve, and Steve had eventually given him a name in their fifth, sixth meeting, his old friend's name. Bucky. Beloved. He should feel guilty about it, that he'd just named his new friend after his oldest, dearest one; but there was something oddly satisfying about it, something that had come fulfilled, even if he didn't know it. The merman (no, boy), had taken to it, and Steve had been delighted. But that was more than three years ago, and here they were again.

He'd learned a lot about Bucky's people, the complicated creatures that most others decided to call monsters. But Bucky isn't one of them -- Bucky is curious, playful, kind (although only to him, he's discovered), and Steve pats his pocket. He had brought Bucky some shiny scraps of metal to play with, and a small mirror he'd picked up in an alleyway that he knew would amuse the other. He had always cared for him, had loved him since the moment they laid eyes on him and became friends, and that was never going to change, even if their friendship had slowly, very slowly started to change in other ways.

For the most part, he thought, Bucky took up a good chunk of his life, and he doesn't mind. He doesn't even mind the blood that fills his nostrils and almost chokes him, or the half-consumed, bloodied dog carcass in the other boy's grasp.

No, he'd gotten used to this, understood that this was the way of the world where Bucky came from, and aside from some ground rules (like: never the ones with collars on them), Steve never interfered. Steve comes closer, fixated and hopelessly fond as he sits on the edge, carefully avoiding the blood. He reaches out to touch Bucky's hair the way a lover would, feels it wet and briny, and eyes the two dead fish by his tail. The darkness doesn't hide the black eye and the cut lip as well as it should, but Steve's not in the mood to talk about it.

Instead, he fishes in his pocket for the small mirror, smiling. ] Got you something, Bucky.

[He stilled between chewing at the sound of footfalls coming down towards him, tilting his head to identify the gait. Sometimes children or vagabonds wandered under the bridge where he was resting and waiting for Steve. He killed the vagabonds often enough, since he was restricted to leaving creatures with 'collars' alone as they were owned or at least food for someone else.

Children he left alone, scaring them away with a growl or a hiss, sliding his tail along the cement. They left making the strangest songs, high-pitched and off-key. Sometimes they left a strange smell behind in their fear as well, and humans truly had strange diets to make that kind of scent. Only bold stupid children with no collars he consumed because there was a fine line between courage and stupidity.

No, the footfalls that were coming were light but determined, the kind of gait that he had come to associate with Steve. He looked up from the haunch he was chewing on, pretending boredom even if the gleam in his eyes flicked immediately to Steve's pockets in hopes of determining if there was a shiny present for him. Steve regularly brought him shiny things, and he brought Steve food from the sea, sometimes shiny things from his world.

He grasped another strip of meat and tore it free, chewing a bit more eagerly and abandoning the half-animal to raise his human half to drape over his tail and peer at Steve. He noted the damage but by now was used to this human ritual that Steve partook in; his friend wasn't dead, so that meant Steve was strong enough to survive. Nothing more, nothing less.]

I brought you fish. [He tilted his head to indicate but his webbed and clawed hands boyishly reached out for the shiny prize. He blinked at the mirror, exploring it, letting it catch the limited light. He let out a startled hissing noise when he spotted part of his own reflection in the mirror and whipped around to confront the intruder clearly behind him... but then not.] There's another here! The shiny shows me them but I cannot see!

[ Steve very deliberately ignored the remains of the animal, and tried very hard not to think about it, to focus on the other boy instead, heart warmed by the way Bucky looked so happy to see him anyway. This was always the highlight of his days, whenever he'd count down the hours so that he could see him again.

He knew that Bucky had made exceptions for him, following rules that he otherwise would not have followed if he were someone else; and that was if he hadn't devoured him first. Bucky's nature was feral, other, an apex predator in his world; and Steve knew that there were yet many things he hadn't understood.

Like mirrors, for one.

Steve jumped, then hurriedly tried to calm the panicked merman, reaching out for him and grasping for the mirror to show him. ]

No, no, there's no one here! There's only you and me, Bucky. I'll show you. [ He stroked his hair, trying to calm him, to soothe him. ] C'mere, come on up.

[He patted the edge beside him, too mirror safely in his hand. He would take the fish later, bring it home and cook it -- Bucky had always seen fit to get him the biggest ones without the bones, the nutritious ones that could be cooked in stew or fried, and Steve appreciated him for that.

He let the mirror reflect himself, first, touching the surface and showing it to Bucky. ] This is me, look.

Edited 2015-03-16 16:23 (UTC)

[No, no, this was his place and this was his Steve, and he was defend it because it was his and nothing, not even those mermen from his old bachelor group were allowed here to share in it. He twisted around, the fins on his tail raising in threat before he was looking over at Steve again.

He allowed the shiny to leave his grip, though his lips pulled back to show his sharp razor-like teeth. He settled over his own tail when he was assured that no other of his kind was here to steal things from him, though he looked around the shadow one more time just to make certain. Steve stroking his hair sure was nice.

James uncurled, his long tail sliding wetly and with a rasping sound as he moved awkwardly on land. He wasn't yet dry enough to acquire his legs, a pleasant mistake he had made when he had lounged too long on the deck of a ship after stealing their fish unguarded. He slid closer, undulating his lower half until he was up close to Steve.

He blinked in clear wonder at the illusion that mirror showed. He peered at the mirror shard and then at Steve, agreeing that the people were identical looking.] Yes, you are Steve, and you are mine. The shiny doubles you a bit.

[Suddenly, self-awareness reflected in the way his eyes lit up as he reached out slowly to curl his hand around Steve's and direct the mirror to be aimed at him. Instinct told him an intruder, but he mentally reflected that it was not. That was... him? He'd never seen himself before, and it was all wonder when he mentally grasped the significance.] That is... what you see of me? That is James Barnes, your Bucky?

[ Bucky's agitation was endearing, almost, but Steve's concern for him overrode anything else he could think of, because Bucky was so fiercely possessive, so very ready to defend his territory (because that was the way it worked in the sea, with his group) that it took a few tries to get him to relax.

Steve never feared those sharp teeth, knew right down to his bones that his Bucky, yes, his, would never hurt him -- not even when he was out of control. With a soft laugh, happy to have him come beside him again, Steve took some time to openly admire his tail before he helped him settle beside him, stunningly beautiful even in the shadows.

He leaned close, wrapping a skinny arm around the other's waist, and he smiled at Bucky's innocent curiosity, the sharp intelligence when he figured out what it was. It was an amazing, wonderful thing, to see Bucky finally looking at his own reflection in the mirror. What an experience it was, to share this with him, the way Bucky took to it so quickly. ]

This is you. [ He agreed, resting his chin on Bucky's shoulder so that both their faces could be seen. ] You're my Bucky, aren't you? [ He turned his face to the side, pressed his forehead to Bucky's jaw and smiled, soft and sad, almost. ] And you're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life.

[Steve had long ago become something that he considered his, like the knife that he had once found in a wreckage that he had explored. The other boy admired him and taught him things and always came to visit, though he knew that most of the time that Steve was late a battle was being waged. He liked those struggles for survival; he liked when Steve did them where he could watch and admire how often the other rose despite the impossible odds.

It was breath-taking. He had never thought to step in because Steve never stayed down for long. Perhaps if there was a real threat to the boy's life. Steve struggled to survive better than anything he had ever seen.

He slipped a possessive arm around Steve's waist in return, leaning against the other boy's shoulder and peering at the mirror. He guided their hands so that he could take in all of his appearance little-by-little, not wanting to miss a detail. His teeth were very sharp, he was proud to think. His facial features were smooth and mature, though he was still growing into them.

He turned his head when he was finished examining himself and then hooked his chin over Steve's small shoulder.] Yes, you have given me a name, and that makes me yours. That also makes you very much mine. [He preened at the compliment, grinning at Steve.] Yes, I am beautiful, aren't I? It's why I'm such an effective hunter.

You're the best hunter. [ Steve laughed softly at that -- yes, his Bucky was a prideful, ferocious hunter, as beautiful as he was deadly. He didn't know when he had started thinking of Bucky as his, he had once thought that the other was like a storm in the night, who came and left like lightning, and was never to be claimed or grasped.

But then things changed, and Steve had begun to think of Bucky as his own, and the truth of that was that he was. And there they are, together in the little mirror, like they'd always belonged. He watched when Bucky preened, studied the beauty of him as he took himself in, and he gently bumped his nose against his. ] And when you're bored, you can always do this.

[ He shifted the mirror this way and that, letting the light bounce off of it, knowing how charmed Bucky was by everything that shone. He gave it back to him then, reaching into his jacket for the orange he had bought for a few pennies before he visited Bucky. ] Remember this?

Yes, I am. At least around these parts. [He admitted that against the females of his kind, it was difficult to get the upper hand when they lured and killed as a cohesive family unit. Those didn't tend to come that close to land where lone males or bachelor groups tended to find an easier time. He was still very healthy and growing well for his age; it helped that this area of land and the many docks provided him with easy opportunities. It also provided him with Steve.

He glanced at Steve, dropping his hand away at the touch of their noses, a human gesture of affection he had seen often when observing mate pairs on bridges or walking along the water. He leaned in and nudged his forehead against Steve's in the equivalent of the marine gesture, and his arm tightened on Steve's slim waist possessively.

He pulled away to watch the light catch the mirror and dance on the damp walls of the bridge, and he laughed his musical-like laugh in pleasure at the sight. He rested his cheek against Steve's shoulder and enjoyed the showing, and he smelt the orange before he saw it, immediately perking.] Yes, that is the sweet treat that you called an 'orange', which is the same as the colour, yes? We share the orange?"

We share the orange. [ Steve assured him, endlessly endeared by the innocent way his Bucky lit up, as if this was something wonderful, something to look forward to. And perhaps to him it is; and Steve was amazed, looking through Bucky's eyes.

He'd loved that gesture of affection in turn, the way Bucky returned it in his own way, thoroughly aware of the fact that the other could so easily rip his throat out if he hadn't felt the same for him.

He sighed softly, happily, struck by that sweet, alluring laughter before he started peeling, the citrusy scent lingering. He gave Bucky the bigger portion -- the merman was always hungrier than he was. Steve kept him close, happy to be held. ] You know, I never which came first, the fruit or the colour. What do you think?

[Sharing was an act that Steve was teaching him more than anyone else. This sort of altruism was not something prevalent among males unless bonded to a female, a skill that was more developed out of deferral to a mate. Steve seemed unaware of this skill, and he was hard-pressed not to learn anything that was being taught to him.

He still took the larger half offered without complaint. He was bigger, stronger and growing far more than Steve after all. He peeled off a slice and pushed it into his mouth, breaking it open with his teeth and sucking the juice out with a soft sound of pleasure. He was back to butting his forehead against Steve's as he chewed.]

The fruit, obviously. Words always come second after the object. [He looked at Steve and smiled happily.] How many did you get pushed around by today?

[ It was the way it was, Steve knew -- Bucky was a refreshing presence, Bucky treated him like something worthy of respect, and perhaps an equal in all the ways that counted, and Steve loved him all the more for it. He had never insisted that Steve took the bigger portions, never clucked disapprovingly when he got into more fights than he should.

But Bucky protected him, Steve knew. His fierce predator always stepped in when things went too far; but that happened only very rarely. Steve nuzzled him back, enjoying his gentle headbutts as his free hand found its way to the nape of Bucky's neck, rubbing gentle patterns over them before he smiled. ]

Just three. [ Steve had fought fiercely, got beat up, but it mattered little -- the point was that they'd left the old woman alone. ] I knocked the teeth out of one of them. Well, just two teeth, but. They were harassin' an old lady down the road.

[He was already chewing on a second piece of orange, not particularly one to savour a meal, even a special one like this. He liked having the taste on his tongue and lips, like the sweet juice hitting his belly. It was a texture that one didn't find easily in the meat in the sea. Everything was either soft or hard, never particularly sweet unless it was some water plants.

Oranges were his favourite. Steve was also his favourite land creature.

He nuzzled the smaller man more aggressively, humming a low two-toned musical note that failed to express the allure of his voice entirely. He still rubbed his forehead all over Steve's, bumping their noses and then doing that 'human thing' of rubbing his nose on Steve's cheeks, not even bothering to be mindful of the injuries of the black eye.]

Did you save the teeth? [He frowned and grunted unhappily at the mention of the victim. Matriarch's were to be honoured and protected for their knowledge and wisdom.] Young human males seem to have no respect for their matriarchs. You did the right thing defending her.

[That was not a compliment he gave often, if at all.]

No, I didn't. [ Steve wasn't in the habit of saving those things, much to Bucky's evident dismay, but he knew that the choice of victim this time distressed him more than the others did. Bucky's world prized the females more than the males, matriarchal -- his respect for the older females in society were bred from his own experience, for whatever it was worth.

He wrapped his arm back around him again, eager to comfort him as he gently crooned, addicted to Bucky's soft musical hum, to his open expressions. He rubbed his cheek back against him before he pressed his lips against his cheek. One soft kiss. Another.

Bucky bumping against his black eye made him wince, but it didn't matter, not when he'd pretty much heard what was the highest of praise. ] Hey. Hey, it's okay. [ He smiled a little. ] That's a first I'm hearing from you.

[He knew that Steve didn't particularly value objects of conquest as much as he did, but even he only had a very small collection. There was nothing to take from the creatures that he ate most of the time, no particular challenge to that hunt. He only took prizes from those that were challenges or perhaps as minor gifts for Steve.

He almost forgot his orange in the face of Steve's comfort, nuzzling as he had seen before he peeled off of slice of orange. He turned one end in his teeth and leaned forward for Steve to take the other half.]

Lure them in next time... I'll see they learn respect.

Can't teach them respect if you eat them, Buck.

[ Steve told him, all sass. He liked the little gifts that Bucky saw fit to give him from time to time. Small baubles that interested him, items from the tea -- sometimes even here, too; complete with a proud footnote from a pleased merman if that person had been particularly adversarial. Steve'd chided him about that one when he could.

He took the other half, coming intimately close so that his lips just barely touched Bucky's own, feeling a warm tingling down his spine at the brief, butterfly soft contact. The burst of flavor in his mouth is welcoming, but it mattered little in the face of this impromptu, unexpected little kiss. ]

It tastes good.

Who said I would eat all of them?

[He frowned and shook his head faintly in disapproval because he knew how to imprint lessons on the typical average male who Steve engaged with. Most of them were cowards, screamed like terrorized seabirds and floundered like a land creature unable to swim. All it took was circling them and bumping them around a little to impress upon them that their actions were silly. No one believed their weeping tales of him anyway.

He made a soft pleased noise when Steve grasped the other half of the slice and they bit down together, separating it evenly. His lips brushed against Steve's in return, finding a tingle run down his spine.]

You taste good with orange on your lips. [He moved in a bit more boldly but with an air of complete curiosity as he pushed his lips against Steve's, using his tongue to taste both flesh and the remnants of orange. Yes, that was a wonderful mixture.]

I was joking.

[ Steve told him gently, smiling as he drew him closer. Bucky was a lot more unpredictable as far as everything goes, but Steve -- well, he loved him anyway. He'd seen his heart, his innocence, the sweetness that he carried with him. And when he made that soft little noise, he parted his lips a little more to invite him in to explore.

Steve tasted the copper tang of blood, just a little, but there was the nearly overpowering flavor of oranges, too. His heart raced, anticipation and excitement both, and right here, no one can see them. ] Mm -- keep kissing me, Bucky.

[There was the soft shift of his soft scales against the rough cement, drawing his lower half in closer to Steve in a subtly protective gesture as he kissed the other boy. There was something very soft and alluring about Steve's lips, like they drew out something in him that had never previously been described when dealing with another. His fingers abandoned the orange safely to the ground so that he could cup the other boy's cheeks with his palms, ever careful of his claws as he deepened the kiss.

If he was concerned that Steve's blunt cow-like teeth would fix on his tongue, he gave no sign. Instead, he found himself curiously exploring this new action between them. Steve tasted like orange and other human foods that he hadn't yet tried himself. There was a tinge of blood, no doubt Steve's from the cut lip. He pressed closer and harder, enjoying the sensation and only withdrawing when it seemed prudent to breathe again. He huffed and sighed, peering at the other boy.]

What is that called? I see people on bridges and near waterways do that. It's very nice.

Kissing.

[ Steve grinned, hopelessly fond of him, and his heart racing at the gesture of affection -- he loved the way Bucky tasted and felt against him, felt something in him curl warm in the pit of his stomach, a pleasure that he cannot help. He felt Bucky come closer, the sliding of that tail like a snake's across sand.

A hand came to rest on those lovely scales, because no matter what it was Steve loved all of him anyway. He thought about it for a long moment, trying to explain it in proper form to him. ] It's what you do with someone you have very special and good feelings for. [ He smiled a little, and licked his own lips. ] But you can't do that with just anyone. Does it make you feel good?

[He considered the single word, able to translate it with what he knew the underwater equivalent to be. It was one of the few times that a human word sounded as alluring as the gesture itself, and it seemed to him that Steve enjoyed that as much as he had. That wasn't rare since there were very few things that Steve seemed to enjoy less than he did.

The light expression took away some of the abuse that showed on the other boy's face, and he nestled his chest against Steve's arm. He hummed a new musical note of approval at the touch to his scales, smiling his feral smile in response to it, his scales bristling approval before smoothing again.]

Under water, there is a similar gestures that potential mate pairs do to show their interest in one another. I don't think they press their tongues into one another's mouths though. [He admittedly had never been close enough to look.] It makes me feel warm inside. Do you feel good when we share oranges and kiss?

[ Potential mate pairs? He thought they were potential mate pairs? It's telling, and it made Steve smile just a little wider, although the cut on his lip ached at that gesture. He wasn't sure if Bucky understood the complexities of love, or what it meant to be in love with someone -- to be of the same gender and do the same.

They would be wrong here, in this place, in this time, but when Bucky's scales bristled and soothed over with contentment, he knew that he wouldn't want to be anything or anywhere else. He wanted to make him sing again, and so Steve continued stroking the scales, smooth and brilliant in the light. They were so beautiful, so very captivating -- imagine how much better they looked in the sea. ]

What do you do underwater? [ He can't help but be relieved, happy, cheeks pink with pleasure. ] It makes me feel good, too. [ He paused. ] You make me feel good.

[He hadn't considered himself and Steve to be anything close to mate pairs because males were not aggressors in his world. They showed up at the great currents when the season was right and performed all the tests same as the women, judged by the matriarchs who were no longer able to breed. Their performances, skills and survival instincts would win them the attention of potentials. He was too young to be considered to be anything but a gangling youth, not yet mature or worth considering.

Steve never made him feel too young. They were very similar in age and while Steve physically didn't show it, the other boy was clearly in the same sort of oddly gangling youth stage, not yet considered a man completely. Steve was the only thing on the land that he cared about.

He shivered at the stroke to his scales, his eyes half-closing in pleasure as the muscles contracted beneath his hide.]

We swim the great and most difficult currents in groups. And if a male performs well and proves himself, a female might approach in interest. They will court with kisses and rubbing scales, and she will decide if it is a match. [Even in the dark and for the first time, his cheeks flushed bright pink.] ...and matches twine together and make babies.

[ Steve considered that for a long moment, stopping his stroking as he thought of that, an odd sort of heartache in his chest when he realized that yes, this would be part of how it would go.

Bucky would find a female he liked, and make babies with her -- Steve could never get between that. He wouldn't want to. He took in that pretty blush on his face, tempted to kiss it away or make it darker, and he thought of him and another female locked together in a mating dance.

Was he jealous? Maybe a little bit. A very little bit. Carefully, he asked. ] Would you like to have some someday? Babies, I mean.

Pre-War

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