Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~~~
Wade
~~~

Fuzzy images and distorted sounds swirl through a young creature’s head as he’s transported…somewhere. 

His body feels like it’s full of sand, heavy and dead to him. He tries to flex his fingers, but can’t tell if it works. Bright lights flash overhead and a metallic clink- ing sound echoes around him. Humans chatter softly. He blacks out. He wakes up strapped down to a table while more humans—or maybe the same humans, he can’t tell one white coat from the next—they’re poking him and attaching plastic things to him, tubing and metal and…he’s out again. 

Wade couldn’t say how long this goes on for, because he’s unconscious for most of it. Mostly, he can only recall one human’s face; a man with eyes as blue as the ocean, short dark hair and pale skin. 

It almost feels like it was a nightmare when Wade wakes up on the seafloor in roughly the last place he remembers being. He’s sluggish and disoriented, but once he gets his sense of balance back, he’s able to find his way back to his cohort in a matter of hours.

By their reaction, it was definitely not a dream. Wade’s mother gathers him up in her arms and wraps her tail around him tightly when he pokes his head into their burrow, calling her name softly. She has always been protective of him, seeing as he was the only egg from her first clutch to hatch. He has siblings from other parents that his mother has kindly taken on as her own, and they all swarm him as well, cooing and crying now that he’s returned safe and sound. 

Wade’s still so tired that he’s dragged back down by the exhaustion in his mother’s arms almost immediately. For the most part, he is unharmed. Whatever the humans wanted with him, they let him live. That’s enough for him and his family to simply try and put the whole ordeal behind them. 

It’s easy enough to pretend it never happened. If not for the nightmares that haunt Wade into adulthood, he’d have believed you if you told him he simply made it all up. His imagination has always been a little hard to control. 

~~~

Wade’s nightmares have taken a backseat to waking terrors. You see, his school has been dwindling as of late. 

The Obura are getting sick. 

At first, it’s just a scary story trickling back to him through other, less permanent members of his school who’d come and go as they pleased, secondhand recounts of a friend of a friend whose school maybe wasn’t doing too well. 

Then it becomes more tangible, with members of his own school starting to show symptoms and sequestering themselves away in the hopes of keeping it from spreading. Wade’s school, and others, stop mingling entirely for a while. It doesn’t seem to do them much good. 

The sickness is sneaky, seemingly appearing out of nowhere in a matter of days. It’s like they're all sick, whether they’re symptomatic or not. Maybe they’ve all been sick for a while and it’s just been sleeping inside them like a baby lamprey in the sand, but far more gruesome. 

They recently lost their Bekel, and Wade’s had to step into the position of secondary protector. His Akkla, Vanessa, is also showing signs of illness, but she remains strong. 

Wade himself hasn’t been feeling too well either, but he’s good enough at hiding it from his school to keep it his own problem, something to be dealt with in the wee hours of the morning on his own. Wade keeps them safe from predators, but try as he might, there’s nothing he can do to protect them from the invisible illness that seems to only prey on his people.

Years pass, and Wade’s once plentiful school of twelve is now a mere five. He is the Akkla now, not by choice, but by necessity. Wade feels he’s failing them at every fucking turn. Illness has picked them all off in one way or another—humans have always hunted his kind for the aphrodisiac properties of their meat, and the sickness has made them infinitely easier to catch.

Wade insists the remaining members of his school don’t hunt. They’re all growing too weak, they wouldn’t stand a chance if humans caught even a glimpse of their crimson tails in the water. He lures prey back to them, where they can drink in peace and he can keep an eye on them. 

He knows they’re all going to die, and they do. 

One by one, month after month, they slip through his fingers like the finest grains of sand until he’s left with a single partner…his former Akkla. She’s held on longer than anyone else. She’s always been so fucking strong and stubborn…but now she, too, is on the verge of death. Wade still feeds her. She’s too weak to even bite properly, so Wade hunts, drinks, and comes home to her. He tears his wrist open for her twice a night and ensures she gets what she needs to stay comfortable in her final days, however many she’s got. One night, she stops him.

“No more,” she whispers quietly. Her long black fins sway gently with the ocean current. Wade strokes them comfortingly, shushing her. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Nessa. Drink,” he insists.

“Baby…it’s time, you’ve gotta let me go.” 

Wade’s chest tightens, as does his grip on his mate. “What? No. You’re delirious. Drink,” he repeats, lifting his arm to bite into it, but Vanessa grabs it. She’s weaker than a hatchling. Even so, Wade stops. 

“I hate doing this to you. I hate watching you leave and come home looking at me like you are now. You’ve been so good to me, but…I’m ready to go, Wade. I want to go.” 

He’s been with Ness since…it feels like forever. They flirted and snuggled with one another before they even hit adulthood. She’s always been there for him, a voice of reason to balance out his impulsivity but also a troublemaker, just as mischievous as he is and without her…who even is he?

“No,” Wade whimpers. “Please Ness, don’t…” 

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Vanessa reaches up and runs her small hand over the short fin on Wade’s head affectionately, just as she’s done a thousand times before, then cradles the back of his skull. “Stay with me, though?”

He nods and entwines his tail more tightly with hers. Vanessa drifts off in Wade’s embrace, but he can’t sleep. He needs every second he can to listen to her weakened heartbeat and feel her soft fins against his arms and chest. He whispers that he loves her over and over and over. 

In his heart, Wade’s known this was coming for ages, but he’s been too afraid to face it. 

Vanessa doesn’t wake up. 

Wade feels the exact moment she leaves him for good, when her heart finally gives in and her gills go still. He cradles her limp body until it grows cold, and then he digs a deep hole in the back of their burrow to protect her remains from scavengers. 

In a violent grieving frenzy on his way out, Wade uses his tail to fling sediment and rocks into the burrow. 

He couldn’t possibly stay there, anyway. He can’t live in that gruesome reminder of how much space his school used to need, and now… fuck . 

Now it’s just him. 

Of all of them, why him? 

~~~

Wade’s search for a new school doesn’t go so well. He spends months on his own before he even finds another of his kind. Turns out he’s sick, too. He’s sequestered himself from the rest of his school because he knows his days are numbered and it’s part of his school’s tradition to die alone, with honor. Wade doesn’t see what’s so honorable about that, but he doesn’t question it. 

The dying merman tells Wade where the rest of his school is. When Wade finds them, they’re not doing much better than his school had been. Wade warns their Akkla that the sickness will claim them all, but she just calls him crazy and sends him on his way. 

By the time Wade's found another group of his own kind, he’s migrated into freshwater because it’s mating season—which would normally mean he’d be accepted into the school no matter what. Unfortunately for Wade, the illness has left him less vibrant when his colors change. He’s a sad, muted pink compared to everyone else. They allow him into their midst, but nobody wants him…and why would they? Still, Wade tries to entice someone, anyone by showing off his flexibility and song.

A single lamprey—the group’s Bekel—takes pity on him, but not enough to fuck him. He allows Wade to snuggle up with him and soothes some of the ache for contact and that’s it. The Beta convinces the Akkla to let Wade stay. In the long run, it won’t matter anyway, because the same thing that happened to Wade’s school happens to this group as well. One by one, they become too ill to carry on, until only Wade remains. 

Alone again.

Over the next few years, Wade finds fewer and fewer of his kind, and it always ends up the same. All Wade gets is a fleeting sense of comfort that’s stolen away from him bit by bit, until there’s nothing left to take. 

Wade’s positive he’s the last of his kind now. 

He still seeks out the company of other merfolk and the occasional human for a long time, but his species has never been regarded with kindness. Other merfolk find the Obura off-putting. Many just think of them as parasites. Eventually, he stops trying. 

The sickness starts to catch up with Wade. 

The weight of his grief and loneliness has become too much to carry, and he becomes less and less interested in staying alive. When his energy drops to all-time low levels and his song starts to fail him, Wade’s convinced he’s going to starve to death. He tries to lure prey to him, but not even simpleminded invertebrates are swayed. 

Yup, he’s gonna fucking die. 

His body burns through his muscle and fat reserves, leaving him waifish and frail. Weeks crawl by, but Wade’s heart keeps beating. 

Wade decides one evening that he won’t fucking sit around and wait for death. He musters every bit of strength he can, determined to go out on his own terms—and he makes it to the surface. Timing his last push with the waves rolling up the rocky beach, Wade strands himself at high tide. He curls his tail around himself, pretending it’s any other living thing touching him, comforting him, and rests his head on it while he waits for the tide to go out and the sun to take him. 

Chapter Text

~~~
Logan
~~~

It’s been raining for three straight days. The sun’s out today, but Logan’s disposition remains gloomy as ever. He pours two shots of whiskey into his coffee before cracking into his morning chores, seeing to it that the lighthouse remains in top condition. 

He should be happy to have a job at all. A roof over his head. Not many folks are willing to even give Wolverine the time of day. There’s nobody around for miles to give him anything, grief or otherwise. It’s both a blessing and a curse. Still, it’s more than he deserves, so he tries to take it for what it is; a living. 

Logan tidies the building, tests her pipes and takes photos of anything that may need attention later. Everything about the historical site has to be closely kept track of. Once Logan’s finished with the inside, he pulls on a sweater and heads out to inspect the property itself. 

Logan’s fear of the ocean’s a quiet thing, but it still sleeps in the heaviest parts of his metal. As long as he’s on solid ground, it keeps its head down and he goes about his life without paying it too much mind. 

The sun may be out in patches, but the breeze off the ocean still chills Logan’s bones and the sky overhead is grey and unsure of itself. 

Frenzied seagull shrikes catch Logan’s attention as he’s strolling along the property line. Whatever they’re after, they’re really going for it, swooping and screaming continuously. 

Curious, Logan approaches. 

He smells the familiar iron-rich tang before he sees it. Blood. Some dried, caked into the stones. Some fresh, glistening. 

Logan realizes he's looking at one clawed hand, human in shape but crimson in color, dangling over the edge of a rock. Shit. Logan takes a deep breath and bellows, scaring the gulls off long enough for him to run in and chase them off before they can start to divebomb the red creature again. 

They’re so human looking, aside from having red and black flecked skin and a twelve-foot-long tail. They must be a mutant, an aquatic one judging by the fish-like features. Logan crouches and checks their carotid pulse. It’s a gamble whether or not they even have the same physiology as a human, but a lucky one. Their heartbeat is weak, but present. Their skin is peeling and torn to shreds, both wet and crisp under his fingertips. A barely-there moan lodges in their throat and they start to squirm. 

“ Hey there, easy, bub, ” Logan says softly. “ You don’t look too good. ” 

It’s obvious he needs to get them back in the water. Logan carefully tries to scoop the creature up, but they’re limp and so goddamn long—it’s like trying to wrestle a human noodle. He manages to carry them back down to the waterline with their tail dragging behind him. He walks thigh-deep into the surf, then kneels down so he can submerge the creature. 

Unease licks at his waist along with the frigid waters, tugging at his clothes incessantly. Doesn’t matter. Someone’s life is on the line. 

Honey-colored eyes flutter open under the water. The creature makes another distressed sound that yanks at Logan’s heartstrings. Logan lifts them up a bit so he can speak to them.

“ How can I help? What d’you need? ” 

“ Hungry, ” the creature croaks, then their eyelids fall.

“ Okay, what d’you eat? No, no, you gotta stay awake— ” Logan taps their cheek a couple times. No response. “ Shit. ”

Logan shifts his grip on the creature so he can open their mouth and get a look at their teeth. At first it seems like they’ve got tiny, almost rounded teeth that would be poorly suited for eating much of anything. Logan soon finds they’re actually folded back, tiny little needle-like fangs tucked into tight grooves in the creature’s gums. These aren’t teeth designed to tear or chew, these are for piercing and holding on.

Hoping he’s right, Logan rolls his sleeve up to his elbow and sinks his teeth deep into his own forearm. He rips a chunk clean out, spitting it into the ocean so it won’t heal up immediately, and he presses the wound to the crimson creature’s mouth.

They’re slow to respond. Logan flexes his hand to get his blood pumping faster. The creature’s nostrils flare and it groans, then Logan feels suction and a strange, warm tingling sensation spreading from the wound. Bony fingers curl around Logan’s arm, gripping tightly as the creature drinks deeply from him. 

Logan lets them drink until he starts to feel light headed. “ Okay, okay, ” he slurs slightly. Weird. He feels sort of…tipsy. “ S’enough for now. Hey, c’mon, you. ” 

He has to pry their mouth and clawed fingers off him. Weak as they are, it’s pretty easy. They didn’t even bite him. 

“ Don’t let go, ” the creature whimpers. Their tail has come up to curl feebly around Logan and they’re grabbing at his soaked sweater with shaky, bony hands. 

How can Logan say no to that? “ ...I gotcha, ” he assures them. 

~~~

Logan doesn’t trust humans to treat a mutant fairly or even know what they’re fucking doing, so instead of calling in his find, he carries them back to the lighthouse and hopes his bathtub is big enough to fit the bulk of their long tail. It’s an ancient claw bathtub, nearly as old as Logan himself—and while it may not house the creature comfortably, it’ll help Logan keep an eye on them. 

…He couldn’t just leave them there.

Logan drapes his wet sweater over them while he makes the trek up and down the ramp, across the beach and into the ocean enough times to fill the tub with seawater. It’s while he’s filling up a fifth pair of buckets that he realizes the wound on his arm hasn’t fully healed yet. It doesn’t hurt and it’s not bleeding, but the divot remains. 

By the time he’s coming in to top the rub off, the creature’s eyes are open again and they’re looking around the bathroom, dazed and sluggish. Only their eyes are above the water. Bubbles escape their thin slitted nostrils and they make a soft humming noise that trickles down Logan’s chilly spine like warm bourbon. 

He’s relieved to see them conscious. They mumble something under the water and Logan tilts his head, brow raised. “ What was that, bub? Can’t really understand ya. ” 

The creature’s tail swishes back and forth and they sit up a little, spilling water over the edge of the tub. They speak to him so softly that it takes Logan a second to realize they’re not speaking in any language he’s ever heard before. 

Logan kneels down and rests his arm on the edge of the tub. “ Didn’t catch a word of that. ”

The creature makes a sound suspiciously like a giggle and promptly sinks back under the water, closing its eyes and going still. The holes along their tail, most likely gills, open and close slowly. That's enough to convince Logan they’re just sleeping and not dying on him. 

It’s hard doing anything he’s supposed to be doing with a dazed and injured mutant in his tub, but Logan manages by coming back in to check on them every hour or so. He brings in a large metal basin from the cellar and fills it with seawater to submerge their tail, because it dangles over the edge and it just can’t be comfortable out of water. The day crawls by at a snail’s pace. After he’s finished his dinner, Logan goes in to check on them again, relieved to find them awake and alert. 

Well, alert may be a stretch. They’re running their clawed fingers down the wall, clack-clack-clacking against the tile softly. They seem to be amused by the feeling and the sound. When Logan clears his throat, they turn to him and coo. The translucent black fin on top of their head snaps up, then down flat again and they hum softly under the water. It feels like a greeting. 

Something in Logan relaxes. He releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and his shoulders feel less tense. Probably just relief that he’s not gonna have to drag a corpse out of his home. Either way, he’s compelled to go in closer and kneel by the creature’s side. He folds his arms over the lip of the tub, holding his elbows.

It strikes him then that the creature is absolutely beautiful . 

Logan clears his throat again. “ How’re you feelin’? ” he asks.

The creature looks up at him with vacant yellow eyes and rolls over onto their side slowly. They reach out of the water, chilly fingers grazing Logan’s bare forearm. 

Their voice is a sad, weak thing. “ Please…? ”

It takes Logan a second to realize what they’re asking for. They’re touching roughly the same spot he let them drink from earlier, which has now fully healed without a trace. 

“ Sure. Sit up, ”

The creature tries, but ultimately, they’re still too weak and uncoordinated to manage. Logan helps them get into a stable position before he bites deep into his wrist and offers it to the creature. “ Better hurry, I heal quick. ” 

They seem to understand him just fine. They take his arm quickly and sink their short claws into the skin with their excitement. That warm tingle spreads through Logan when their mouth touches the wounds and they start to drink. It gets his heart pumping faster and draws the blood to his cheeks. Must be something in the creature’s saliva to make feeding easier. Come to think of it, that’s probably why his wound didn’t close up immediately earlier—some sort of natural anticoagulant. Interesting. 

The creature moans softly, it’s tail twitching ever so lightly as it drinks. Logan feels increased pressure on his wrist, but no pain. They drink very efficiently for the most part. Only a small rivulet of blood trickles down Logan’s limp hand, his ring finger, and into the tub. Safe in his own house, Logan lets them drink their fill this time, even after he starts to grow dizzy. Not like they can kill him, anyway.

They seem to know when to stop. The creature lifts their head and Logan realizes they’d sunk those needle-like teeth into him and he didn’t even notice. They offer him a weak smile, which should be eerie or off-putting at the very least, but somehow Logan doesn't find those bloody fangs gruesome. The way their smile reaches their half-lidded eyes is gentle, sweet. 

“ Yer not tryna hurt anybody, are ya? ” Logan slurs slightly. “ Can’t help that yer scary. S’okay. I know the feeling, bubba. ” 

The water is tinged with blood. Logan makes a mental note to freshen it up as soon as he can walk again. The creature is still holding onto his arm, and he lets them place his hand on their face. It’s soft and smooth like the rest of them, covered in tiny scars that are almost imperceptible from a distance. 

Logan’s strength is returning quickly, but the creature is dozing off. He lets them drift for a few minutes before gingerly trying to slide his arm out of their grip. 

“ Why’d they take your wings? ” The creature asks as he rests their head against the lip of the tub. 

“ What? ” 

“ Your wings , ” they repeat softly, barely awake. 

“ I, uh…Well, I dunno, ” Logan shrugs. They’re clearly delirious and just need to rest, and so does he, so he just goes along with it. “ Get some sleep, Red. ”

“ Oh...okay, ” the creature nods weakly before they succumb to exhaustion once more. 

Logan’s not far behind. He has just enough energy to stumble to his bed and collapse, taken by a deep and dreamless sleep. 

It’s nice. 

Chapter Text

~~~
Wade
~~~

When he wakes and he’s still in the little basin he vaguely remembers being placed in earlier, Wade pieces together the last few day’s events the best he can. 

He remembers giving up. He remembers looking up at the sky as it opened up and pissed down water down on him even as the tide receded, fucking tormenting him. Just to keep him alive and suffering a little bit longer. And then he very faintly recalls… something tearing at him, and that’s where things get super duper fuzzy, because amongst them was another being. 

Fluttering white wings and a deep, soothing voice. An angel. Wade had been so sure of it. 

But angels live in heaven, and Wade doesn’t think this is heaven. It’s nice—a small blue and white room with sunlight streaming in through two small windows and a basin big enough to keep Wade mostly submerged. He could probably fit his whole body if he curled up just right. Only his tail dangles over the edge, and someone’s put it in a bucket to keep most of him wet. 

He hears heavy footfalls outside the room and sinks deeper into the water, as if he can hide. 

A rugged and tired old face appears in the doorway and Wade’s heart skips a beat. The angel. He’s got dark grey and white hair swept up on the sides and even darker eyes full of both wonder and sorrow. The lines in his face tell the story of a long, hard life. His jawline is obstructed by an unkempt beard of the same color. 

This is no angel, but a human. “Y’look a lot better,” he says as he enters the room and sets two buckets of water on the floor. “Gonna change the water, alright?”

Wade blinks, looking down at the water. It’s pinkish and stale, but it’s keeping him moist. Wade’s not picky. As long as he can breathe, he doesn’t mind. Still, he allows the human to move his tail out of the way and drain the basin. The water disappears down a little hole that Wade tries to stick his fingers down to no avail, then the human plugs it up and dumps the giant buckets of fresh seawater in with Wade. Wade trills happily at the feeling of it washing over him, even if it’s shallow to start. 

The human leaves and returns with more water. He does this until the tub is nearly overflowing, then he sits down on a weird looking white chair with no arms to catch his breath. He wipes some sweat from his brow and lights a thick brown cigarette on fire, then inhales the smoke. It smells heavy and rich, sweet in a way a cigarette definitely is not. 

“Where am I?” Wade asks. 

“Don’t worry, you’re safe. Didn’t wanna call a hospital or anythin’. Figured I had a better chance of helping you myself than humans. Sorry about the bathtub, s’all I got handy.” 

The lamprey slowly cranes his head to the side and blinks several times, confused. “ You’re human.”

The human shakes his head. “Nah. M’a mutant, just like you. Just a little less obvious,” he says as he raises his hand, balls it into a fist, and then bam! Three shiny metal claws like knives shoot out from between the knuckles. Wade jumps a little bit. 

“Holy halibut, that’s freaky. I’m not a mutant, though. I’m…” he hesitates because it’s not always safe to tell people what he is, but this one saved him. Fuck it. “I’m an Obura.”

Now it’s the human—or, the mutant’s turn to look confused. “Huh.” A beat of silence passes, then the man shrugs and takes another puff off his giant not-cigarette. “Well, doesn’t matter what you are. Wasn’t gonna let you die on the beach.” 

So it was definitely this man, this mutant, who saved him. Wade feels like he should be angry, because he did want to die, but he can’t find any fury in his heart. So he simply says, “...Thanks.”

“Hungry?” the man asks. 

“ Gods , yes,” Wade groans.

“Lemme fix myself some lunch, then I’ll take care‘a you.”

Wade likes the sound of that very much. “‘Kay.”  

~~~

The smell of whatever the human is making is delightful . Wade’s always found human food appealing, but he just can’t eat it. He nearly choked to death on a chunk of cooked meat that someone had tossed off a cruise ship once. Not fun, not worth the scolding from Ness or the sore throat. He learned his lesson: pointed teeth are no good for chewing, and his throat is much too small for most solid food. 

Wade waits patiently, enjoying the coziness of his little basin and the warmth of a patch of sunlight on his skin. He clacks his claws against the tub, enjoying the sound it makes. He scopes out every corner of the room, from its low ceiling to its worn old wooden cabinets.

The human comes back in with a cup in hand and a towel draped over his shoulder. Wade’s eyes are automatically drawn to his neck. Fuck, he’s got some juicy-looking veins. He sets both items down and unbuttons the cuff of one sleeve, rolling it up as he kneels by the edge of the basin. Wade’s mouth is already watering.

“D’you need me to—”

“No, give it,” Wade insists. 

The human’s not put off by his brashness, in fact the old man seems amused by it as he offers Wade his furry arm and Wade snatches it, perhaps a little too quickly. Wade drags his lips across the inside of his forearm, locating the warmest point, then his fangs spring free and he sinks them deep into the flesh. The human— mutant , whatever—doesn’t even flinch. The only sign that he even felt it is a tiny exhale through his nose. 

Wade’s much more alert this time, able to appreciate the taste of him, the warmth and weight of his blood. He squirms around in the tub a bit as he drinks, trying to appreciate the fact that he’s being fed at all and not think about how much he’d prefer the man’s neck. 

A little moan escapes him. Wade can’t fucking help it, okay? This man saved him, he’s feeding him, and he’s pretty damn handsome to top it off. Of course Wade wants him. Had he any shame, he’d roll over onto his stomach to hide his obvious arousal, but Wade’s not in the business of shyness. 

The man starts to breathe more heavily and Wade can’t help looking at him. His face is flushed and the lines around his eyes and in his forehead have softened significantly. He looks peaceful, serene; Wade wants to fuck him right then and there. He grips the man’s arm tightly and drinks slowly, drawing it out for the simple pleasure of warm skin against his. The human’s fingers graze his chest and Wade imagines them buried inside him. Wade’s hunger is satiated, but he still lingers for a moment longer than necessary before he finally lifts his head. 

The human’s thick eyelashes flutter and he groans when Wade’s teeth leave his skin. He looks dazed, pale, but pleased. 

“Gotta lie down for a minute,” he mumbles as he shakily gets to his feet and wraps the towel around his arm. 

“Thank you,” Wade pants as he watches him teeter out of the room. 

The old man answers with a single wobbly wave before he disappears from sight. 

Wade barely waits for the sound of his footsteps to fade before he gets to work pleasuring himself to the thought of what this sexy human probably looks like under all of those pesky clothes. If his arms are any indicator, he’s firm, muscular, and covered in soft black and grey hair. Covered in thick, dark veins that Wade wants to lick and kiss and bite. Wade’s gotta remember to ask his name next time he checks in.

~~~

Wade dozes as he normally would during the daytime. It’s not too long before the man comes back in and the color’s returned to his face, like he didn’t just get bled (almost) dry. Mutants are decidedly more fun than humans. Wade happens to be awake, so he smiles and wiggles his fingers at him. He’s looking at Wade a little funny. Not ha-ha funny, weird funny. 

“Hiya, handsome,” Wade purrs. “You have a good nap?” 

The mutant huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.” 

He sits down on the white chair, eyes traveling up Wade’s tail and across his body. Wade flutters his fins in an attempt to look pretty for him. 

“Like whatcha see, sailor?”

The faintest blush creeps into the man’s ruddy cheeks and he looks away awkwardly.  “Y’look like you’re healin’ up pretty good. I can get you back into the ocean soon as yer ready.” 

Oh…he was just inspecting Wade’s injuries. Of course. Even this human senses that Wade’s not a fit mate. Ouch. 

The Obura’s heart sinks slightly, but he shakes it off. “I don’t…um…think I can hunt on my own just yet,” he mumbles, and it’s not quite a lie. It’s a half-truth. “Could I stay just a little longer?” 

“‘Course,” the old man nods. “I will need my tub back eventually, though.”

Wade grins and flops his tail excitedly, splashing water over the edge of the tub and knocking over the metal basin on accident. “Shit!” he sits up and tries to stop it, but only succeeds in sloshing more water around.

“S’alright,” the man laughs. “Relax, I’ll handle it.” 

He’s starting to feel like a burden, but Wade nods nonetheless. “Sorry…I’ll just…” Wade sits quietly, folding his hands in his lap. “Um…what do I call you?” 

“Name’s Logan,” the man says as he’s wringing some water out of a towel and back into the bucket. “You?” 

“Wade.”

“Nice t'meetcha, Wade.” Logan says, offering Wade his hand. 

Wade takes it without hesitation. Logan’s hands are rough but gentle. His warm touch sends shooting stars and sunshine and fireworks cascading down Wade’s spine. It’s been ages since anyone or anything’s touched him…Fuck, he’d give his whole left arm for Logan to just hold him for a few minutes. It might grow back, it might not. Worth it.

Too soon, the handshake is over and Logan gets back to work cleaning up Wade’s mess. 

Wade feels safe here, in Logan’s bathtub. It’s cramped but it’s nice, and Logan comes in to see him every couple of hours. 

Sure, Wade is bored out of his mind when he’s not sleeping, but he finds ways to entertain himself. Impossible as it would be, he doesn’t think he would mind being cooped up in here with Logan for a long, long time.

Chapter Text

~~~
Logan
~~~

Wade’s company is pleasant. He doesn’t have any preconceived notions of who Logan is or what he’s done, and his disposition is usually sunny. Logan finds himself wanting to spend every free minute he’s got in or near the bathroom. 

The merman’s second night in Logan’s bathtub is far less stressful than the first. However, Logan still doesn’t get much sleep. He stays up well into the night hunched over the creaky kitchen table with his reading glasses on, scouring the internet for information on Wade. 

Obura. 

Logan had felt the name was familiar, but didn’t make the connection right away. He’s heard of them before, seen their bright red meat hanging from hooks in fish markets. They were once prized for their medicinal properties and considered a powerful aphrodisiac. Wade’s kind have supposedly been hunted to extinction within the last decade, but here Wade is, alive and…eh. 

He’s alive, anyway. 

The sky’s turned a soft pink in no time, and the night has slipped through Logan’s fingers. He doesn’t see much point in trying to sleep now, so he decides to tackle his morning set of chores early. At the top of that list is Check On Wade. 

The merman’s asleep when Logan peers in at him. He’s got his whole tail coiled up on top of himself with the fin spread out over the top, draped over himself almost like a blanket. Wade’s dark fins are delicate looking and sheer, notched and torn in quite a few places. He looks even richer in color in the old cream colored bathtub. Logan wonders how old the poor thing is and just how many of those scars are from encounters with humans. 

Logan leaves Wade to rest while he goes about the rest of his duties. He inspects the lighthouse’s lantern, the railing, the stairs. No cracks or leaks in the foundation. No vegetation within ten feet of the structure itself. Logan checks off each item mechanically, then it’s time to check in on Wade again. Logan pours himself a second mug of black coffee and heads into the bathroom again.

This time, the Obura is awake and excited to see him. Most likely because he’s figured out that Logan’s committed to feeding him. He’s sitting up with his tail folded up almost like a human would fold their legs to their chest. 

“Good morning, Logan,” Wade chirps with a smile. “How’d you sleep?”

It feels nice for someone to greet him so kindly, regardless of the circumstance. “Good,” Logan lies. He crouches at the side of the tub, takes off his reading glasses and sets them on the sink. “How ‘bout we get some breakfast in you, then change the water?” 

“Yes please,” Wade smiles, and his pointed teeth are already out. 

Logan nods, unbuttons and rolls his sleeve up, but Wade stops him.

“ Wait ,”—he looks nervous, keeps looking away and back at Logan subtly—” You can totally tell me to fuck off, and it’s no problem, okay?”

“Okay…?” Logan drawls, raising an eyebrow.

Wade swishes his tail shyly. “It’d just…Well, it'd be easier for me to drink from your neck.” 

Makes sense. “Alright,” Logan shrugs. He unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off. No point getting blood all over it. 

The merman looks pleasantly taken aback by Logan’s agreeability. He bites his lip with those needle-like teeth, cutting into the skin. Wade’s blood is a darker, richer shade of red than he is; it’s tangy and different, heavy, the scent thick in Logan’s sinuses immediately. The desire to lick his mouth clean hits Logan like a blow to the brain, and for a second Logan thinks Wade’s going to kiss him when he grabs Logan by the shoulders and pulls him in close. Wade tilts and ducks his head at the last second and sinks his teeth into Logan’s throat. It stings for a fraction of a second, then…

“ Jesus, ” Logan groans under his breath as Wade starts to drink. 

He can feel the pull of his blood, the pressure of Wade’s mouth on him, but more than anything else, bliss. Bliss and warmth and comfort and…silence. 

Not from himself or Wade, no. Logan’s breathing heavily, damn near panting, and Wade’s humming quietly as he feeds. His song is all Logan can focus on for a wonderful moment. 

But inside Logan’s head? Nothing. As if even the screaming, pleading cacophony of his dead family and friends is soothed by the tune. It’s melancholy, sure, but there’s something deep underneath it scratching at the surface, something that refuses to die. It feels hopeful.

Logan exhales heavily and twin tears roll down his face as Wade grips the back of his head and pulls himself up out of the tub, pressing their chests together. Logan remembers reading about this, too; Wade needs contact. His species is—was—very reliant on each other for physical comfort…and Wade’s been alone for God only knows how long. Logan can sympathize. So he wraps his arms around Wade, holding him close as the lamprey feeds. Logan tells himself the contact is solely for Wade’s benefit, but he can’t deny how fucking nice it feels to be close enough to someone to feel their heartbeat against his. 

When Wade releases his bite and sinks back into the tub, he’s breathing heavily and looking up at Logan like he’s still starving. Logan notices the merman’s cock is standing at attention, small but proud. He had been too woozy to really process it last time, but now Logan recalls Wade had become aroused last time, too. He makes no effort to hide it, and why would he? His naivety to human social norms is sort of a breath of fresh air. 

Shit, if Logan could still get hard, he probably would be too. That ship sailed for good years ago. 

Wade catches him looking and his fin flattens to his head in a gesture Logan is beginning to find adorable. “Sorry…don’t mind that, it um, it just sorta happens and it’ll go away in a minute if I just…don’t think about it.” 

Logan’s gonna be thinking about it, that’s for sure. “Dun worry ‘bout it,” he tries to sound reassuring, but he just sounds drunk as a skunk. 

He didn’t even put any whiskey in his coffee today, so this is definitely all Wade’s doing. Logan gets to his feet, pressing a hand to the wound on his neck. It’s far less messy now that Wade’s got more control. Logan sways, having stood up too fast, but he catches himself with one arm on the wall before he topples over. 

“You okay?” Wade asks, concern written all over his delicate face. 

“Yeah. Nap time,” Logan grunts. 

“Sweet dreams,” Wade calls from the bathroom. 

Logan stumbles to bed, falls face first into the sheets, and he’s out like a light. 

~~~

When he wakes, Logan finds he’s feeling much better and definitely full of blood again. Actually, he’s painfully erect, cock pressed into the sheets beneath him. 

Logan’s taken aback by the sensation. It’s fucking weird. More than weird, it’s uncomfortable.

He hasn’t moved an inch from where he passed out. The first move he does make is to roll his hips into the bed in search of relief. Fucking Hell. He barely remembers to stifle a moan because oh, right , he’s not alone, and that’s the reason he’s feeling this way to begin with. 

Logan strains his ears to listen. The bathroom is silent, which hopefully means Wade is asleep. 

Wade.

Logan squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his aching cock against the bed, his face burning with shame as the thoughts come at him one after another, each more depraved than the last. Wade’s hands, his mouth, his pretty little dick…Logan could swallow him to the hilt easily and suck him dry . Logan cums in his jeans with just a handful of thrusts like a goddamn teenager with a muffled grunt, burying his face in his pillow. 

It’s not until he’s come down from his post-orgasmic high that Logan realizes he has to go into the bathroom to clean up. 

He opts for a half-assed attempt at cleanliness in the kitchen instead. Logan convinces himself it’s nothing to dwell on. Wade’s very flesh is an aphrodisiac, and a powerful one at that. That’s all. 

~~~

After he’s finished with the day’s work and devoured two microwave dinners, Logan sees to it that Wade gets dinner too.

“Would you do me another favor, Logan?” Wade asks sheepishly as he pulls away from Logan’s neck this time.

Logan’s far more alert than usual. Wade must’ve stopped drinking sooner than the last couple of times.

“S’that?” 

“Would you, um…would you mind…holding me? Just for a little while—see, my kind, we really need physical contact once in a while, or we kinda start to go a little…coo-coo-bananas.” 

“...Sure,” Logan agrees. 

Worn brown pants and socks join Logan’s shirt and sweater on the sink. Wade scoots forward in the bathtub and Logan gets in behind him. It’s a little chilly, but Wade himself is warm and inviting. The weight of his tail spreading over Logan’s legs and his back slotting into place against Logan’s chest quells something quiet and lonely in him, like an ache he’d nearly forgotten. 

The relieved sigh that slips past Logan’s lips when Wade settles is mirrored by the lamprey at twice the volume. Wade takes Logan’s hands and wraps them around his shoulders, so Logan squeezes him gently. This elicits a tiny, pleased grunt from the merman and Logan smiles. 

Wade hums quietly, less of a song and more just contend trilling, but it has much the same effect. 

Alert as he thought he was, it only takes maybe ten minutes for Logan to doze off. 

~~~

Could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours. 

Probably not hours, or Logan would be even more wrinkly than he already is. Logan’s pulled out of his slumber by warmth and water and jolts of pleasure pulsing through him. He nearly groans, but the feeling of the cool water lapping at his shoulders and neck grounds him and he remembers where he is. Shit , he fell asleep in the tub with Wade. 

Wade , who is currently cradling Logan’s jaw with one webbed hand and squirming around in Logan’s lap incessantly. One arm is still resting across Wade’s stomach, feeling the subtle ripple of the merman’s abdominals. Logan opens his eyes slowly and holy shit. He tries not to make a sound as his gaze travels down Wade’s collarbones, his chest, his stomach, all the way down—and he realizes Wade’s pleasuring himself under the water with frantic but subtle movements. He’s trying not to wake Logan, while also supporting his head for him so he doesn’t fucking drown in his sleep like an idiot. Not only that, but he’s rubbing his long, lithe body back against him, like he can feel just how hard Logan is and likes it . It feels intentional, the undulation of his tail and the way his clawed fingers scrape through Logan’s unkempt beard gently, repeatedly. Petting him. 

Even with his underwear between them, it feels so fucking good…but it’s so fucking wrong. He shouldn’t be awake for this. Even though Wade’s using his body to some degree, it doesn’t feel right. Logan gave Wade permission to touch him earlier, so far as he’s concerned. The lamprey didn’t agree to Logan peeping on him while he…

A soft melodic moan drifts from Wade’s throat and Logan’s breath hitches. Luckily, Wade’s too busy to notice. Suddenly he stops moving altogether, hands and tail alike, and he hisses. Only the tip of his tail spasms for a second, his fins fanned out and flickering, shimmering with the gentle yellow overhead light. Wade whines, soft and needy, then he starts to undulate his hips again. Logan’s eyes roll back in his head and he bites his lip to stifle any sounds he desperately wants to let loose. Wade’s breathing picks up again and he starts stroking his cock with slow, intentional pulls. Mere seconds of this and Wade tenses then goes still again with a ruined, miserable little sound. 

One again, Wade starts jerking himself off and rubbing back against Logan’s throbbing cock after a moment to calm himself. 

Listen, he’s not a fucking kid anymore, and nobody’s even looked at Logan like they wanted to touch him in well over thirty years. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to cum up until last night. So when it becomes clear this is a pattern, Logan feels like he’s being fucking tested. Maybe even punished for having these kinds of thoughts about Wade in the first place. Jesus, he doesn’t even know how old Wade is. 

The merman threads his fingers in Logan’s hair, and it’s so fucking tender and soft…between the almost loving touches, the roll of Wade’s elegant body, and the poorly muffled noises the lamprey keeps making, Logan feels like he’s going to lose it any goddamn second.

Wade stops and starts, stops and starts and it’s excruciating—and then all at once, he goes stiff against Logan’s chest and his tail snaps like a whip, he’s whimpering and shuddering in Logan’s lap…and Logan’s cumming so hard he nearly bites his own tongue clean in half because no matter what, he can not react . His hips twitch and his thighs tense, there’s no stopping that, but he manages to stay mostly still. Wade continues to writhe against him with soft noises and sharp exhales through his slitted nostrils, gradually calming and going still. Yet more torture.

“Shit,” the lamprey whispers to himself eventually, then he speaks a little louder. “...Logan?”

Logan squeezes his eyes closed and prays to any deity that will listen, please let Wade believe he’s still asleep somehow. 

The lamprey sighs. Logan hears some water splash over the side of the tub. “Good job, stupid,” he mumbles. “Eugh. Sticky…gross.” 

Gross. 

That’s how Logan feels, alright. 

~~~

[lookit my stinky fish!! lyrics from PoGo by bbno$]