This isn't the Little Mermaid

[nonfrangible]

Who: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
When: Various
What: Mermaid AU - Bucky is a mermaid, an apex predator with a curiosity of humans and grows fond of Steve Rogers.
Warnings: Gore, killing for the purpose of feeding, Steve getting into trouble.

Starters inside.

Comments

During/Post TWS

[nonfrangible]

[163]

[ It was difficult, getting Bucky away from SHIELD's curious eyes, keeping his secret -- and after the horror of seeing his beloved mangled so by HYDRA's scientists, there was a near constant curl of aggression, a ferocious protectiveness that kept Fury from demanding that Bucky stayed in their custody.

Bucky had suffered enough, been through enough; and all of the questions they had could be shelved for another day. Or never. He had kept his silence all the way home, and now that he was bigger than him, he'd insisted on carrying him back -- Bucky was still getting his bearings back, and Steve refused to let him on his feet until he was feeling much better.

He'd thought that Bucky was dead, had grieved, had thought that the icy waters of the Arctic would be his own final resting place; it was, after all, a part of Bucky's home, and even if he had been lost on land, they could have been together forever. But clearly, fate had different planes.

Fate had brought Bucky back to him, very much the worse for wear, but they were going to work through this together. Bucky smelled of oranges and blood, the way he had before; Steve had made sure that he'd brought oranges when they'd met again, and again, Steve determined to kickstart his memory, so make sure he remembered him. The bracelet he'd given Bucky was missing, but it didn't matter -- they could always get another.

And so Bucky had started to live in Steve's home, hopefully adjusting as best as he could, and after the first shaky few days, Steve finally broached the subject. ]

Bucky, would you like a bath?

[disassembling]

[The ability to tolerate being poked, prodded, examined, and asked questions had long ago become something that he was used to. There was a tolerance for the rituals of self-assessment and human greed that he had shouldered and ignored any fierce response to for many, many years. Disobedience earned punishment, but even that had earned little of his regard after awhile, just the cold shoulder and his ignoring them but still being pliable enough for examination.

Pliable and reasonable enough to take an order and complete it was all that HYDRA wanted of him. SHIELD was far more complicated, asking for things that he didn't remember, curious of him but uncertain how to proceed when he didn't give up many secrets as he was.

Steve had taken him in, the only safe place in his world of continual change. He was supposed to be the order amid the chaos, but for once, he was in that whirlwind and unable to escape and his own choice was to grasp onto Steve. There were no orders, no cold to sink into, no strange chemicals that was but wasn't water that allowed him to dream of dark placed under the waves that made little sense. He was waiting for something, though he didn't know what that was.

He lurked in his usual corner of the room, his gaze settled on his wrist as if recognizing that something was missing but uncertain what that was. His blue eyes flicked up to pin Steve at the question and the disquiet that came with it. Bathing was something done standing, his legs parted wide (sometimes comically so), but he had been impressed with the importance of cleanliness.]

Yes, I should be clean. Once a day while in active service.

[163]

Bucky, you're not in active service anymore. You can choose when you want to bathe. [ Steve tried very hard not to let that get to him, the way the instructions were still so clearly embedded in his psyche and his consciousness. Bucky had moments like these, of course; plenty of them, and it was all Steve could do not to head out to systematically and thoroughly dismantle HYDRA all at once.

Well, he did his level best, and had been far more productive in the last few weeks than ever before. But more than that, he was inseparable from Bucky, unwilling to leave his side -- SHIELD personnel learned not to ask; not even Clint or Natasha. He did not want pliant, reasonable Bucky, he wanted his old friend, his lover and soulmate back. He wanted him to come back to him.

He noticed it, the way Bucky looked down at his wrist, and felt his heart break, just a little. But then again, heartbreak was always the staple of the day. He frowned, looking down at him before holding his hand out to lead him to it. ]

How did they bathe you? [ How did they stop him from turning? ]

[disassembling]

As long as I'm awake, I'm in active service. [Besides, there was something akin to comforting when the water - hot or cold - passed over his skin. He felt like he could breathe deeply for the first time every single time that he stood for the spray down or a meaningful bathing experience. Always he stood for it.

Maybe it was the only simple pleasure that he was given, even if it hadn't meant more than maintenance to his keepers. His skin still came alive over his muscles, and all the lack of memories meant little then because something teased deep inside of him. It wasn't memory or want or rationalization. It was instinct that he was where he was at his best.

His fingers of his left hand clenched as he gave up his right hand to Steve and allowed himself to be lead to the bathroom. He stepped inside without complaint, having been here more often than not for maintenance.]

Standing. I often braced my hands on the wall and required my legs spread apart so I could be sprayed down or washed by another. When the black came in, bathing was stopped. I could be what I am under my skin on missions only.

[163]

[ The sound Steve made at that was entirely involuntary, as the rage curled in his chest, the pit of his stomach at the way Bucky was treated -- it was his fault, it was all his fault. If only he had gone back for Bucky, jumped in after him...

He shook his head and squeezed gently, putting two and two together. They made him forget, didn't he? They forced him to forget what he really was, and the guilt was unbearable. He stopped at the bathtub, where he'd already filled up the water for him, warm and filled with natural sea salt. Steve would not force him into it if he wasn't ready, and his heart was caught in his throat. ]

I drew you a bath. Are you okay with that?

[disassembling]

[His nostrils flared to drink in the smell of moisture with a tinge of salt. He stood silent and still for a long moment, feeling the brush of something that no amount of electricity could burn from him. He couldn't name or even picture what it was that called to him, but it came with the scream of birds, the smell of rot, and the sound of water passing over stone in a soft shushed noise.

A bath. He couldn't remember having one before. That wasn't uncommon. The emptiness between his ears was often nothing to be concerned over.

He stepped around Steve and padded to the still water, tilting his head to one side and then to the other as he considered it.]

It's not big enough for the both of us. [His voice was flat, almost bridging on refusal. Showers they could stand and take it all in. This... he couldn't be with Steve, not easily and not well.] I won't go unless you do.

[163]

[ Steve sensed it, and a part of him was heartened by the hint of refusal in his voice -- this meant that Bucky was getting better, getting more of himself back. It would take awhile, of course, but progress was progress.

He was studying him closely, watching every flicker of reaction with care, aware that he had to keep an eye on his every reaction. Nodding, he simply stepped over to the bathtub; it would be a little cramped for them with not much room to move, but if Bucky got on top of him, it would be all right.

Steve stripped, stepping into the water, and sat in the tub before he held his hand out to him. ] We'll make do. Come sit in my lap.

[disassembling]

[He made no move to get in or even to get out of the clothing that he had been provided because he wouldn't perform a wasteful action when he was not going in without Steve. It didn't matter that his skin felt like it itched all over, that an aspect of his being strained to be closer to the water. He was in control, even if that might not entirely be true.

Only when Steve stripped did he do the same, but he folded his clothing neatly to set aside. The scarring up and down his legs was faint, long white lines that criss-crossed from the balls of his feet all the way to his ass and hips. They were faded into his skin, but he was aware of them as he was in everything of his body.

He stepped into the water and seated himself into Steve's lap, the water rising dangerously high, but he let out a sigh that was almost - almost - musical. He parted his knees to opposite sides of the tub and watched the slow rise of darkness from hips down, the colour bleeding into his legs as scales slowly rose through, flat and dull. The scarring was more obvious.]

Four months later

[disassembling]

[He was lounging in the bathtub again. He had been doing so more and more lately, content with the current small confines even if there was the pressing need to go back to his home. Steve could not follow him permanently, so he was resisting the urge to head back to the waters that he had once been so used to in case there was no want or will to leave them again. For now, he was satisfied crammed into the small confines of the bathtub, water dangerously close to overflowing.

His tail flicked gently in the water, arms folded on the edge of the tub as he rested his cheek on his bare stacked arms. This was as close to resting when Steve wasn't around, his ears perked to any sound and his body ready and willing to haul itself out and crawl dangerously at anything that might be a threat to him or this place that Steve called him.

Possessiveness of space was not something that he generally found himself being; he coveted objects, people and food sources (the fridge was the rare item he might guard). Lately, he was territorial of the apartment, which made SHIELD's job of keeping an eye on him and Steve far more difficult. It also made his secret more tedious when he was ready and willing to fling himself, scales still formed and all out a window at an agent perceived too close.

He sighed and shifted in the tub, fins flickering with a now constant healthy shimmer. He was putting on weight. He was remembering more slowly, helped along by Steve talking him through things. The only problems in his current world was a lack of the ocean, the continued presence of HYDRA around, and the slow swell of his belly. His hips were aching almost constantly as well.

It wasn't until he became aware of a distinct flutter as he lounged in the tub that, at first, confused him. He took the time to study this oddity, like the flutter of thin seaweed in the current or more like the caress of butterfly wings. He rumbled a sound and the fluttering stopped again, and he passed it off as indigestion; he had eaten very well the day before. Then it returned again. And again.

And he was up and out of the tub, setting his hands down on the tiles so as not to drop on his belly. It was the natural order of things, he supposed, not that upset to realize the true meaning of everything. He slid like a snake along the bathroom floor to the edge, peering at the hardwood and remembering the house rule not to get it too wet.

Instead, he pushed himself up on his arms and craned his head out of the doorway. Then he worked his throat and issued a soft inquisitive trill in the hallways. It was his 'come and pick me up so I don't mess the floor' trill. It was followed with a general human inquiry.]

Steve? Steve, we have a pressing matter to discuss.

[163]

[ Things had settled down relatively well, of a sort -- they were still tricky, but Steve had been accustomed to what to expect when it came to Bucky and his instincts, and keeping his secret had been more crucial than ever, especially when SHIELD agents were still keeping an eye on them both.

With Bucky's recovery came a fiercer, more pointed protectiveness, both from himself and Steve; his mate was territorial, instinctively aggression when intruded upon, and Steve had taken every precaution not to have Bucky exposed, including setting some ground rules that required some getting used to. He'd noticed Bucky protecting their fridge even more, and it had been amusing, endearing; and he'd always noted how particularly protective he was when the fridge was stocked especially full.

But things were better between them -- things were good. Steve could never forget or forgive the way Bucky was treated, but Bucky's returning health had made him more relaxed, happier. He had found his meaning in life again, and he wasn't about to give it up.

He was reading in the living room tonight, enjoying the quiet evening when his ears pricked at the sweetly soft trilling Bucky issued from the doorway of the bathroom. By now, he knew all of those trills intimately enough to differentiate them. Some signified idle pleasure, others were a happy contentedness -- there was even a couple of indignant and confused ones; but no. This was fuller, and he was already halfway down the hallway before the words were even issued.

He tutted softly when he saw his lover in the doorway, and simply leaned down to pick him up bridal style in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before he took the man down the corridor. He was getting heavier, bigger, but he wisely made no comment. ]

What is it?

[disassembling]

[His eyes found his mate as soon as Steve entered his field of vision, though he had been aware of Steve's movements before then. His expression brightened and he obediently rolled over to accommodate being picked up, smoothing his fins so that there was how hazard from them as Steve's strong arm slid under his tail and picked him up.

He curled an arm around his mate's neck, both possessive and helpful, as he hummed at the kiss. He nestled his face into Steve's neck and playfully bit there. That was another problem (a good one) was that with health, happiness, and apparently pregnancy, his libido was high. Now he was all teasing, unwilling to get distracted now that he knew what the apparent problem was.]

I remembered something, and it's important. [He peered up at Steve, tilting his head.] First, why didn't you mate that woman when I was gone? Is it because you had no want to procreate?

[163]

[ Steve was definitely noticing the changes in his mood, the way Bucky seemed so agreeable now, spoiling for affection and love, protective of babies, of all things, when he usually wouldn't have bothered about them. But it mattered little when Bucky became happier, healthier, recovering more and more of himself and taking himself back after what had been done to him before.

He cuddled Bucky close, even if the wetness was soaking through his shirt and sweatpants. It didn't matter, especially when Bucky was humming, the bite gentle and affectionate. He kissed him again, found his mouth to give him a proper one, but Bucky's sudden question threw him for a loop. ]

I wasn't interested in anyone when you were gone. [ He admitted quietly. ] It just -- didn't matter to me. Why?

[disassembling]

[After so long in the cold brutal environment of HYDRA, all of this could be overwhelming but wonderful. There were things that he remembered liking because Steve had re-introduced him to it, and it was easier to accept that he had once had a life with his mate before he had lost an arm, went to war, and became nothing more than a killer for political reasons rather than his usual natural ones. It was different, but now life with Steve was good. Now if only HYDRA and SHIELD would leave them alone permanently.

He was drying rapidly, the water absorbing into his scales as they began to soften with the water and be retracted into his skin. He leaned up and nuzzled Steve's face with his nose, nipping at the side of his friend's jaw before their lips met, and his arms tightened in response, protective.]

There is something... maybe someone... inside of me that isn't me. [He peered at Steve to judge his mate's reaction.] There were... experiments at HYDRA. There was a 'she' once, but she... died.

[163]

[ Steve is silent for a moment, trying to parse the information and break it down into something more sensible. It doesn't help that Bucky is distracting in the sweetest of ways, when he's turning back into human shape again, and seems to be happy to cuddle up.

He squeezes him in return, setting him down onto their bed and drawing him into his arms, hands roaming over his body, fond and affectionate. Life is relatively good for them now, stable, and Steve is happier for it. But it always leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he hears about HYDRA and what it did to his mate. ]

...She died, but she's still inside you? A mermaid?

[disassembling]

[It was always a bit more complicated, and he struggled to remember enough of her to be able to explain that the usual rules between merpeople varied in this case. He was deep in thought as they lay on the bed, trying to puzzle what he knew and what he remembered, which often didn't add up at this point.

His legs had reformed by then, cuddled into the bed and nestling against Steve, his arms smoothing up his mate's back. He even forced a leg between Steve's and kissed his mate with a single chaste peck.]

It did... eventually eat her, but it took a lot of time, I think. I don't remember how long. [He frowned, growling a frustrated noise.] After she died, HYDRA injected some of their experimental cells in me, and activated... well, I think I have a baby inside of me.

[163]

[ Steve kissed his forehead to soothe him, stirring at the frustrated growl -- but it didn't last long, because Steve was blinking at that statement, trying to thread the truths together. As far as he knows, there was a mermaid who died, whose cells were injected into Bucky.

And then -- then? ]

It activated a baby inside you? How can that be possible? Unless it's -- [ Steve paused, wide-eyed. ] How far along are you?

7 Months Later

[disassembling]

[Instinct was not the only thing that had grown over the last few months, but it was the sharpest and always boiling close to the surface more than anything else. He paced the apartment walls, listening and waiting for signs of danger to him, his mate or anything that he considered his. He followed Steve to the market occasionally, but that was getting more difficult as his girth became more obvious and burrowing Steve's hoodies were not exactly doing the trick to hiding him completely. The bathtub was his second favourite place to sleep and always seemed to be full of water now.

However, he knew the new instinct was old, older than he was. It came from a memory from one far older than he, someone with more experience in matters of family and child-rearing. He at first paced around the apartment, restless and unable to settle before he was pulling pillows off the couch and then abandoned them. He rooted in the kitchen cabinets but was unable to wedge in, so he abandoned those as well. Steve's room of things of old had no interest to him, so he abandoned that as well without only a step inside.

He finally settled in the bedroom closet. He shoved out shoes and other objects from the floor, only exploring boxes looking for soft materials. Blankets and sheets from the bed were pulled in and twined together intricately. He lined the forming nest with Steve's shirts from the hangers above, left to get the couch cushions and pull them in as well. Spare towels and linens were also eventually victim of his pressing need, the rise of hunger with it, as he laced, braided and wrapped all this material into a nest that filled the entire closet.

In his search for other items to make it higher and protective, he found it. An old brown hat with a gold metal pressed just above the visor. He knew that hat, he thought. He had worn that cap long ago, but he couldn't remember the decoration much. It was shiny and continually attracted his attention until he slipped the military cap on his head, and it fit perfectly like it had always meant to be there.

He settled and folded his mismatched arms across the top of the intricate nesting edge. He was hungry. Slowly, he began to sing for his supper, to draw in anything - anyone - in his range, summoned by the song of his superiority and his pressing need to feed the swell of his belly that was filling rapidly with a growing child. It was the first time he had nested and the first time he had sung to draw in any living creature to his proximity.]

[163]

[ Bucky was big, very big -- they couldn't hide it now, no matter what they tried. Their child was growing inside of him, on the occasion kicking (Steve liked those occasions, because it reminded him of what was to come), and Steve had been delighted by it. But with the impending arrival of their child came a change of Bucky's instincts. He had been right; Bucky had different needs now, and would very often make them known; his appetite had also increased to cater for the life inside him, and Steve this time had to go to the market alone.

When he came back, however, he paused when he saw someone trying to jimmy open the lock on his door, and the unmistakable, alluring sound of singing, Bucky's seductively sweet, tempting call -- and he frowned. He told him not to do that.

Catching the man by the back of his shirt just in time (it was a stranger), Steve only shoved him on his way and told him to leave, before opening the door and slipping in quickly, locking it. ]

Bucky!

[ He snapped -- they were close to being discovered by another person, and the guy hadn't known how close he had been to getting eaten. He had brought back two entire large salmon fish that weighed an easy 50 pounds each, and he felt his scowl dissolve just a little when he witnessed Bucky nestled in his makeshift nest in their bedroom closet, lined with his shirts, cushions, and towels.

...He was going to have to get more of those. But his attention wasn't on that, it was on the cap that he'd apparently found for himself, and it was as if he was transported back to the past again, when his mate had been more innocent, beautiful in his uniform and jaunty cap, a smirk on his features.

Still, he recovered quickly. ]

What are you doing?

[disassembling]

[There was sound at the door after some time, and he only continued, laying in wait and wiggling in the nest that he had built. It was perfect, just the way that he wanted it and nothing out of place. The cap on his head only accented just what he was going to do when that creature finally made its way to him and there would be nothing left, probably not even bones. It would be a glorious feast.

He sang until the door opened and Steve's voice called out his name. Then his jaws snapped shut, and he huffed and sunk deeper into the nest so that only his nose, his eyes and the cap appeared over the edge. He had tipped the cap so that he could peer up at his mate when Steve finally appeared, and he shifted on his side, exposing the significant swell of his belly as if to say 'she made me do it'.

Of course, his attention then darted at the smell of fish, and he hummed a pleased sound as if he had been caught doing nothing wrong, least of all luring people into the apartment. He lounged despite his size, unable to accomplish the same beauty he would have expected had he been in water and his lower half covered in scales.]

I was... singing for my supper. I hear that is a phrase that humans use? I was just being more literal than you people do. [He leaned his head out of the nest to peer towards the door.] Is my meal coming still, or did you chase it off?

[163]

I told you not to do that.

[ Bucky was in a fussy mood, he knew, and was evidently relying on his (very generous, very effective wiles) to get his way, from the adorable way the cap sits on his head, those bright, beautiful eyes peering at him from his nest to the way he rolled over to show him his belly (Bucky, no), every movement calculated. He was catlike, beautiful and heavy with his child, but Steve was having none of that, even if his gaze lingered on him.

He adored Bucky, reveled in the way he carried their child for weeks and weeks without complaint, and although many things had gotten steadily complicated, Steve knew that he was in this for life, that they were bonded together and nothing would tear them apart.

His frown deepened, all the same. The salmon fish had been deposited on the dining table, because there was no way Bucky was going to eat them in his...nest? Was that a nest? His beautiful, charming mate was pretending nothing was wrong -- which wasn't new, considering what he was, but Steve was doggedly trying to teach him, anyway. ]

You're not to do that anymore, Buck. You can't sing for your supper, not when I'm bringing you food. Can you do that for me? That person isn't coming. [ He crouched before him, leaning over to stroke his cheek. ] No people when you're pregnant.

[disassembling]

You've told me not to do many things.

[And not all of those had received any kind of favourable response from him either, not when he had instinct plucking at him and hunger insisting itself in his belly. He simply had to be more careful next time, especially with his nest complete and it was safest within it. There was no need to fuss over it, decide what was missing or what needed to be added to help things along to his satisfaction. It was just the way that he wanted it.

It appeared that his antics had not won his mate over based on the frown that Steve wore, and he huffed softly and pushed himself up to his feet. He was less awkward than human females in the same state, rising as gracefully as his girth would allow and standing in his nest it the closet. He intended to keep it right here.]

You weren't here, so I sang. A pity though... whoever was coming probably would have enjoyed it at first. [He reached out to try to grab Steve and pull his mate into the nest where he was standing.] But after I give birth is fine?

[163]

I wasn't here because I had to buy you fresh fish.

[ Steve said patiently -- he didn't mind that, he didn't; he loved feeding Bucky, getting him healthy and strong and more than able to nourish the life that continued growing inside of him. His attention was caught by the way his mate rose, graceful and gorgeous and that cap, that cap brought back so many memories that his gaze was drawn to it, too, to years gone by that were lose to them now.

He swallowed, before he reached out, wanting to pull him out instead of keeping him inside. He had half a mind to dismantle some of those items so that he'd busy himself with making his nest again the next time he had to go out. Leaning over to kiss his mouth, he shook his head at him, all disapproval. ]

Hard to enjoy something when you're being eaten alive. [ He observed dryly, and said. ] No, only Hydra. We talked about this.

[disassembling]

I was aware of you going for that. I was hungry while you were gone.

[And it had felt so right to do so with a nest completed. Steve took very good care of him, especially now that even some of Steve's baggy hooded sweatshirts no longer completely hid the bulge of his belly from someone who was really looking for some discrepancy in his appearance. They had agreed to keep things hidden, but he still had to eat. He ate when he was hungry, especially now that he was returning strongly to his base natures rather than allowing HYDRA to control them.

He did step over the intricate wall of the nest to press himself up against Steve. Well, to press his belly against Steve and curl his arms as much as he could from the distance that was now between them with his belly. His stroked his hands down Steve's sides to soothe his mate, smiling like old times as the baby shifted and pressed out towards Steve.]

They enjoy the song until I bite them, and then there is no choice but to die. [He sighed heavily and then smirked.] Then I will eat well the first base we enter after all of this.

[163]

It doesn't mean you can lure people in and eat them.

[ He chided him, but drew him close and kissed him anyway, a hand rubbing over Bucky's stomach, soothing their baby with his presence. He was here now, neither of them needed to worry. It was getting tricky, keeping Bucky in line, but Steve was okay with that -- he loved taking care of him, and this was just another one of those things.

As much as he didn't like suppressing Bucky's true nature, he knew that they had to have some restraint, too. He nuzzled against him, arms trying to wrap around his mate's girth, allowing himself to be soothed. Bucky always had a way of getting to him, and he simply adjusted the cap on Bucky's head before he kissed him again and again, leaning forward now that his belly was in the way. ]

There's fish in the dining room. You should eat something. [ That usually prompted less bloodthirsty thoughts, and Steve wanted to inspect Bucky's neatly made little nest while he was distracted. ]