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

[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.]

[163]

[ Steve stared in growing, mute horror when Bucky sat in with him, when the scales started to come back, revealing the scars, the pieces of him that were missing. He grasped his waist a little tighter, unable to help a quiet, distressed noise.

No. No, definitely not. ] Oh, Bucky...

[ He exhaled, pressing his lips to his shoulder and closing his eyes, as if that would keep the horrid truth of it out. ] What have they done to you?

[disassembling]

[Tension bled out of his back and from his shoulders as the water immersed his skin completely, giving him a freedom that had no existed save on missions that he couldn't remember. Only one part of it, the deck slippery with blood on a navel ship, bodies everywhere and everything eerily silent.

Was that the first mission he had done nude? He had jumped over the railing once the objective was complete and swam fast and hard back to the rendezvous point. An old man in a wheelchair had been there, smiling praise as he returned...

He sighed and leaned against Steve's chest, keeping his legs as wide apart as he could because it was required outside of missions.] I think they liked my blood.

[163]

[ Steve was not sure that he wanted to see the rest of the transformation, but he had to. For both their sakes, to heal, to get Bucky back to where he was originally, a creature of the sea, they had to get through this.

He stroked his hair softly, gently, an arm possessively locked around Bucky's waist. He would kill them all -- for Bucky, he would slaughter all of them for it. ]

Put your legs together, please.

[disassembling]

[His mismatched hands reached back and caught on the back of Steve's head, stroking his fingers there awkwardly, as if he had forgotten how to show such affection. Yet, something about the simple act of touch settled him more, the ability to be this close to Steve, who impressed him as his most important person.

Yet, he turned his head to regard the blond at the request. He looked at the black rough hide that made up his scarred legs and slowly moved them together. Within seconds, the change completed and his hide rose completely in hard scaling, pale underside and dark scales on the back and sides. They lost their dullness, though scars marred his hide. The dark scaling was streaked with hints of colour in the light, mostly red.

His fins were full but frayed at the edges. The fullness of his tail pushed out of the tub and rested against the tiles above. He let out a soft sound as his eyes closed, an instinctive note that he used only for Steve in this form, a musical note of inquiry, of call for his soulmate.]

[163]

I'm here, I'm here.

[ He knew that sound, that heartbreaking, aching sound, and he answered with a soft hum that would be so crude to Bucky's ears, but he gripped him tighter when he saw his tail, his face buried in the curve of his throat. And if Bucky felt hot drops on his skin right there, well.

Steve had seen everything now, the things that HYDRA had done to his soulmate, the way they had hurt him. The red streaks hadn't been there before, they were never there, and his hands came to smooth over his torso in comfort as he shuddered under him.

Bucky, his Bucky... ]

I'm sorry. [ He said quietly. ] I'm sorry I couldn't save you. [ His tail had been so very beautiful, but now... his hand smoothed over those scales, as if he could massage the color and vibrancy back into it. ]

[disassembling]

Ah. I missed you. I think.

[The hum was the note that struck with him in a manner that he hadn't entirely knew he longed for until it had come. Found. He was found, and they were together, even if it was just in a small cramped bathtub in the middle of a giant city. Here, in the wet and the cold bathtub, he was at peace for the first time in so long.

His fingers smoothed up the back of Steve's head, caressing and searching, exploring with increasing desperation. He touched everything from Steve's ears and forehead to the back of his mate's neck, needing to feel and memorize it all over again. And he knew he had never, ever given up their secret, the depth of their bond.

He rolled his scales into Steve's hand.] There is nothing to apologize for. You're here with me now; I found you again.

[And suddenly he knew.] Steve... I want to see the sea.

[163]

I missed you too. I love you.

[ He hummed again, the way they'd discovered the note a long time ago and had both decided belonged to Bucky. He'd hummed it to himself even when he woke from the ice, and he pressed against him, kissing his fingers, leaning close, determined to be pressed into him.

He would never give up their secret, never betray Bucky, and he kissed his shoulder, his jaw, nuzzling against him until he realized what he was saying. ]

We will, soon. [ He sighed softly. ] Do you miss that, too? It was your home.

[disassembling]

Is this what love is?

[Yet, he was plainly assured at the note that Steve sounded, and his back flexed against the rumble of Steve's chest in response. His tail, though scarred, shifted easily in the limited space, vibrancy gradual to return to the scales that hadn't been scarred up. He hummed his own sound to Steve.

Slowly he shifted, flipping himself over so that they lay chest to chest, his arms curling around Steve's shoulders. Everything of his own sex was internalized for the time being, but he was aware of the maleness of Steve against his pelvis.]

I might. Being here in the salt water makes me think I should be at the sea. With you.

[163]

What is?

[ Steve blinked, but his attention was drawn to the color that was slowly filling his tail, the fins that were starting to look more vibrant. But nothing could clearly be done for the ones that were discolored and scarred, and he bit his lip.

And when Bucky shifted so that he rested on his chest, Steve was momentarily embarrassed by the way he was pressed, his cock half-hard against those smooth scales. He knew Bucky knew it, too, but he hadn't said a word, and Steve wouldn't, too, not when he was too busy wrapping his own arms around him, hands stroking over his torso, his shoulders, over the smooth scales, as if to remind himself that his Bucky was home, right there in his true form. ]

Let's go soon. [ He said quietly, after a moment. Fury was still watching them closely, and Steve had their secret to keep. Steve nuzzled him, fingers tangled in his hair. ] We'll go to where the waters are warm.

[disassembling]

This. Being together in the bath, rubbing skin and scales.

[He was keenly aware of Steve in this form more than any other. The fins along his spine rose on their spines, looking almost translucent in the clear water, a simmer of a rainbow of colour to them that came with adulthood for his race. He was able to shiver them along alluringly.

His hips shifted, the scales on his underside smaller and far more smooth than the armour along his back. He slowly rubbed them against the sign of his mate's interest, the corner of his lip twitching in a faint but failed attempt at a smile. He was secure here in the bath, here with Steve's arms around him.]

Yes, just the two of us. I want to swim with you again, to feel what it's like. [He began to lip at Steve's chin affectionately.]

[163]

Yes. Skin and scales in the water.

[ Steve said quietly, gently moving his head so that he could catch his mouth in a slow, loving kiss -- he was not immune to Bucky's allure, not really, drawn to him when he saw the shimmer, his cock jumping, filling in response to his beloved's display.

He felt Bucky shift, and it was almost playful, the way he encouraged it, and he groaned, his hand stroking along Bucky's spine. ] And more than that, too. Love is much more than that. It's you and me, together all the time. [ He nudged against him. ] How about next Wednesday? I'll get a flight out for us.

[disassembling]

Just like now. As it should be, as I haven't been allowed in a very, very long time.]

[Time was relative for him, and he tended to live for the here and the now. Steve made time stand still, especially with that slow kiss that drew him out of himself to respond as his eyes slid shut and a soft throaty - almost human - noise emerged from his chest. His hips undulated subtly as his scales felt like they were tightening and new colour rose in the dark ones, advertising to Steve his own rising arousal.

His tail flipped and splashed into the water, spilling some over the side as he stroked a hand down Steve's shoulder, then ribs, then side and hip until he pushed it between their hips to grasp his mate's arousal and carefully stroked.]

I need to be together with you now. And time doesn't matter when I'm with you.

[163]

[ It hurt for him to know that Bucky was still alive, kept from being with him for so many years, and he hated every moment of it. ] No one's going to separate us again.

[ He promised, his hips grinding up into his mate's talented fingers, trusting in the wicked claws and knowing that he wouldn't hurt him. He was thick and long, flushed deep with need, reveling in the growl that he heard from Bucky. He hadn't heard that one in so long, keenly aware of how his Bucky was ready to be mated, penetrated.

For them, it was comfort, for them, it was coming together again, and when Bucky spoke his intentions Steve didn't hesitate -- he knew what it meant to him, his beloved. He knew the comfort he took from it. With a soft sigh, he shuddered, a hand coming between them to rub at Bucky's scales, to rub against where his cock was hidden, wanting to seek him out, to give him pleasure and comfort. ]

Open up for me, Buck. Let me inside you.

[disassembling]

[No, he agreed that no one would separate them again, not now that they had found each other again after so long. He might not remember most of their time together, but Steve could tell him, a reservoir of their memories together, a treasure trove of experiences that he needed to have again.

His hand stroked as his hips shifted with a strange impatience that he couldn't remember having before. Parts of him swelled, uncomfortable in their hidden compartments, and Steve's hand sliding over his scales earned a near violent gasp in pleasure that rippled down his scales and flooding them with vibrancy and colouration.

He bowed his head against Steve's neck, working his hips upwards as his hand guided his mate up against the slit on his underside. He abandoned Steve there and rocked his hips in welcome, relaxing muscles and pressing down on his mate's impressive erection.]

Ah...!

[163]

[ And Bucky, so impossibly warm, so tight and slippery around him that Steve was filled with a ferocious possessiveness, a love that made him grip Bucky tighter, claiming him when his mouth sought his, to swallow the sound of pleasure that he made. The water splashed out all around them, but Steve didn't care -- all he cared was that his mate was displaying his colors for him again, the pleasure bringing him back.

They would work it all out, he knew it, and he grasped his own cock to push it up into him, feeling the way his mate sheathed him so tightly. He took his time with him, inviting Bucky to curl his tail under him while he took him, made him his all over again. ]

Mine. [ He promised against his mouth, lip scraping against teeth, allowing them to draw droplets of his own blood. He drew out, plunged into him sharply again, rutting into his welcoming heat, acknowledging the way he sheathed him so lovingly. ] Bucky, you're all mine.

[disassembling]

[It was an invasion to private yet so deeply lodged into his mind that he stilled his hips when perhaps a younger male might have thrashed and sent water everywhere. He let Steve inside of him, filling his tightness so completely and slowly that it was so easy to accept the arrangement as perfectly natural.

They had done this many times before, he knew based on how his muscled gripped Steve possessively in return. His tail shifted, struggling in the confines of the tub to curl around Steve's legs and hold his mate to him, aligning their hips so that he could roll and undulate his body in the most pleasurable motions.

He exploded musical sound as Steve thrust into him again, and his arms curled desperately tight around his mate. If they had been in open water, he would have rolled and twisted them together, playful and excited, relishing their freedom of motion. Instead, they were trapped in a small bathtub making the most of the situation.]

And you're mine. No one claims you as I do, as I allow you to do me.

[163]

[ He wanted so badly to be in open water again, he wanted to be so deep inside his mate with nothing but sea all around them, when they were free and Bucky danced and sang and trilled with joy that would fill his ears, his heart even as Steve filled him.

But they would make do for now, re-establishing the age-old connection that leapt to life between them, the closeness that they had together, the love that burned so strongly. He kissed him, again and again, safe in the curl of Bucky's tail and the song of his passion.

He ached for him, desperate to bury himself inside the welcoming sweetness of Bucky's sheath, and he mated him like a male would his female, thrusting with an animalistic passion, firm and not gentle -- they didn't need gentle, not this time, and his hands stroked over where he was parted around him, rubbing the sensitive scales, the slit that held him inside. ] Always.