A/N: Because I can't get enough of mer!Kurt; I keep drawing him and then, when my sister wanted me to draw her mer!Kurt, mer!Finn, and pirate!Dave, this idea came to be; I drew it, and now I'm writing for it.
And it's funny in that ironic way, because while I was writing the storm scene, there was a raging thunderstorm happening outside my house. It really helped the mood, haha! XD
Completely AU, of course. And in third person (present tense), as per usual.
NOTE: Redone, all thanks to Ella Greggs' help! You're my best, most polite constructive critic, and I thank you for that. C:
Edit: recently made typo-free! :D
It begins with the storm of a lifetime.
Before this hit, David Karofsky had only ever heard of old wives' tales of disastrous storms at sea. He was told second- and third-hand accounts of such-and-such sailor or pirate caught in a storm so vast with waves so high that it was nearly a hurricane. And to each and every story he heard, he nodded politely, made the appropriate gasps and shocked expressions, and moved on. Because, realistically, how could such storms exist?
But this is no tale. As Dave runs about with the rest of the crew to help tie down the sails to keep them from tearing to shreds of canvass in a torrent of sheer rage as violent as the angered gods of yore, he realizes the full capacity this storm has to ruin every last plank and beam around him, as well as every last soul.
He holds on for dear life as bouts of sideways rain with droplets the size of his eyeballs whip him across the sides and back and chest, going in all directions, ever-shifting. The rain is pounding hard enough to leave bruises on his clothed skin and welts on his exposed skin, and all he can taste is water, be it salty from the sea or clean from the rain, it doesn't matter, because it's nearly all his senses are aware of.
The wind whistles and roars and wheezes, and the ship creaks and tumbles back and forth, side to side, in a constantly changing flow with the crashing, crushing waves. Dave's stomach rolls with the punches, and he feels green with seasickness for the first time in years.
The eye of the storm is nowhere to be seen, and what a relief it would be to coast into right now. The eye of the storm is always calm and quiet and, in comparison, lovely. David prays they reach it, because he needs a break.
Dave is nearly crying from the pain, his muscles aching to hold fast to the rigging, as he doesn't dare move from his climb downward from the sails, fearful of being tossed around on the slippery deck. Other crewmembers, too, freeze in place to wrap their arms around a pole or mast or rope here or there, whereas some are not so lucky, because they are flung off of the deck or one of the bows entirely as the ship pitches to and fro.
Dave is blinded by the water in his eyes and the flashes of lightning in the darkness. The once blue sky with a sun blossoming in the east is now a distant memory as the day turns to instant night, the clouds roll in, and all Hell breaks loose.
It's as if a sea god – Poseidon, Neptune, Calypso, anyone – were trying to wipe the ocean clean of any and all vessels upon their domain. Poor David cannot even describe it in words, only watch through his squinted eyelids in horror as people drown where they stand or, worse still, they disappear, lost to the sea, and probably lost to Davvy Jones' locker.
Dave becomes a crying mess; and it seems odd to him, in the back of his mind, because since when do pirates cry? Is he not a member of Captain Jesse St. James' wayward crew of young rebels? Is he not the first mate of said crew? Is he not David Karofsky, known to pirate-haters as, "The Fury At Sea?"
He clings even tighter when he can't locate any of his closest comrades, such as Azimio and Santana. He weeps for them, too, and prays to a God he hasn't thought about since becoming a pirate, begging for their safety (as well as his own).
Then, David squeezes his eyes shut and waits out the storm.
0o0o0
After a countless amount of time, Dave is thrown forward as the loudest, most ear-splitting sound reaches his ears. It's the squeal of shattering wood and the piercing cry of snapping rope and collapsing masts, adding to the collateral damage of the storm's affect on the ship. Dave is tossed like a rag doll into the air, and he lands somewhere hard and bracing, a rib or two surely cracking, the wind knocked from his already drenched lungs.
Hacking and coughing in an attempt to inflate his respiratory system, Dave heaves onto his back and stares upward, his arms and legs boneless from gripping so tightly for so long onto the ropes.
Around him, things are calming down. The ship is, from a standpoint, blown to smithereens; it collided with a rough, sturdy, large mass of coral reef that forms its own island, and while the storm is subsiding to a normal rain and the waves begin to settle down to the usual, all Dave can do is stare in a daze, open-mouthed and panting, his thoughts incoherent and nearly non-existent.
He's been shipwrecked, he realizes dimly, faintly. He closes his eyes and sheds a few more tears to mingle with the rain. He's been shipwrecked, and who knows how many of the forty-or-so people on board made it? Who knows where they are (somewhere in the Pacific, but near what continent?), or how they will make it back to civilization again?
David knows that they are stranded. Their ship is nothing but chunks of splintered wood or sections of broken vessel, nothing very usable except perhaps for firewood or shelter, and definitely nothing capable of being turned into a boat again, he thinks to himself as his thoughts begin to collect.
It takes a full day for him to recover enough physically to so much as sit upright.
Everything about him is raw; his skin is red, his hands are blistered, his clothes are torn here and there, and he's scuffed up in various places with splinters and scrapes from the coral and broken pieces of his ship.
A few bodies are strewn about; none of them are living, judging by their bloody, broken, awkwardly bent and impaled forms. Red soaks the wood and the shelly sand wherever a body lies nearby. It's a gruesome sight, enough to make David feel both fortunate and lonely, but above all else, completely sick. He dry-heaves on his side, his stomach containing nothing but bile to vomit up.
Dave shudders, the only thing keeping him sane being his own aches and pains stabbing him alert with stings and jolts of soreness throughout his body. He might have a concussion, because his head doesn't feel right, but still he forces himself off of the wrecked chunk of water vessel and stumbles, crawls, and limps onto dry land.
The sun emerges two days after the storm and wreck, and by this time, there is only so much rainwater Dave has collected to live on, but none of the barrels of food from the ship made it. They all drifted away or were blown to bits or are covered into much blood and other human remains from the collision for Dave to even want to touch it, let along clean off any of the possible food.
The rainwater – the only freshwater available to live on – is collected in a nicked mopping bucket Dave finds among the wreckage. He takes the rainwater wherever there is a pool of non-salty tasting water, whether it's from a dip in a sail, a sunken piece of wood, someone's boot, or the leaves of the palm trees on the island; he wastes no time in collecting it all, not wanting to have it dry up and leave him too thirsty late on.
Shuddering for a second time at all of the gore and corpses scattered around him, David makes a slow journey – taking half a day – to reach the opposite side of the small island, away from the horrifying sights of the shipwreck.
No one survived, he realizes. Or, at least, no one he can see. He can't find Az's or Santana's bodies among the wreck, so he prays that they somehow made it out alive, clinging to a scouting boat or piece of driftwood or something else of the sort.
However, not everyone is present and accounted for. Dave could honestly care less about his captain, one Jesse St. James. He didn't see his body, either, but Jesse always was a tough son of a bitch, a loud-mouthed asshole, someone you don't fuck with and yet adore at the same time because he's respectable and bold, even if he's cocky and has a sense of superiority. Knowing that about his personality, Dave thinks his captain could have made it. After all, the man took heart in everything he did.
But that doesn't mean David liked him. So, in a way, the lone survivor is relieved to not see Captain St. James anywhere in sight.
Sighing with sore lungs and a raw throat (from screaming his head off unconsciously during the worst of the storm), David crafts a small shelter for himself out of bits of sail and palm tree leaves, and then crafts himself a fishing pole after bandaging his hands with torn-off pieces of his ripped pants. He sets aside his boots and goes about drying a few necessities in the sun. He makes sure to face the completely opposite way of the wreckage. He doesn't want to look at it.
He lays himself down on a bed of softer sand amongst the shade of palm trees and his tiny shelter. Slowly, his body falls asleep, his eyes being the last to follow the lead and close, and then, his mind succumbs to some much-needed rest.
0o0o0
After a long sleep that lasts for a third of a day and an entire night, Dave starts his quest of feeding himself and somehow planning to get off of this Godforsaken island that was the downfall of his entire ship and shipmates.
But as soon as he takes out his fishing pole made of a thin stick of driftwood, thread from his own jacket, and one of his tarnish gold hoop earrings as a hook, and a slug from a tree as bait, Dave discovered that not many fish are lured out of their hidey-holes in the reef to bother with such food. He frowns, because he has never been very good at spearfishing, and he would not like to try now.
So, with an aggravated sigh, Dave plunks down and waits, casting and recasting his line. He will have to get a nibble sometime, right? He has to, because while he could always make a fire, he has an adversity to crab, and would rather not suffer hives just to fill his belly.
He starts to hum, and then full-on sings to himself to pass the time. "My clothes are all in pawn / Go down you blood red roses, go down / And it's mighty draughty around Cape Horn / Go down you blood red roses, go down / Oh, you pinks and posies / Go down you blood red roses, go down / It's round Cape Horn we've got to go / Chasing whales through ice and snow / Oh my old mother she wrote to me / My darling son come home from sea / Oh it's one more pull and that will do / For we're the bullies to kick her through…"
After a day, he gives up fishing. He has to; he can't stand being patient for something that is never going to happen, patient for food that isn't going to come.
At least, that is what common sense and reason and logic tell him, but the following day, Dave wakes to the smell of ripe mangoes. And when he opens his eyes, there they are, a pile of three of them barely a meter away. His eyes widen, he rubs them of any lingering sleep, and when he finds that they are not a dream, he cries out with joy and races – aches and pains aside – to grasp them, pulling out the knife in his belt to greedily peel their skin and sink his teeth into the yellow-orange flesh of the fruit.
Flavor and juices burst in his mouth, peppery sweet-tart and fresh, and while it gets a little stuck in his teeth, it tastes like Heaven to his (three? Four?) days-starved self. He devours all three mangoes in a heartbeat, not even caring how they came to him, because with this miracle, David knows at least some deity or being is looking after him.
0o0o0
Kurt smiles. He's glad that he's a fast swimmer, and he's even more glad that the other island is just beyond what the shipwrecked pirate can see on the horizon, because that makes it not too terribly far away, at least not for the young merman with the angelically designed, flowing, green-and-blue fish tail and matching blue-green eyes.
The merman has watched it all; he felt the sea at unrest, and didn't surface while it raged, but was out in it nonetheless to collect seashells for his friend Brittany. Brittany is an adorable mermaid with blonde hair and a pink-and-purple-swirled tail that's even more delicate and angelic than Kurt's own. And, she told him, all mermaids know that the best shells show up when a storm knocks them loose. Except Brittany herself is too terrified of the thunder and lighting to go searching for the shells, so she asked her dear, brave friend Kurt to do it for her. She says they can be a gift for a sailor she met some time ago, a young lass by the name of Santana.
Kurt had agreed, because he believes in helping along love in all its shapes and forms, and that's when came across the coral reef island amidst the storm. Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin when a ship came rushing past just as he discovered the island and all of the shells he could harvest from it. He had to dodge the front of the massive ship as it tumbled headfirst like a charging ram into the reef, groaning as it turned onto its side, the groans turning to shrieks as the wood gave.
Humans – pirates, by the dress of them – fell down dead into the water like brutally torn petals from a budding flower. Kurt had gasped and screamed, bolting from the scene and skittering away to the opposite side of the island during the storm. But he made plans to return to seek out any survivors from the crash, because despite warnings told to him time and time again by Council members of his people, humans keenly intrigued Kurt. They were so odd, looking like mermaids, but having legs like animals, walking upright on land and having no scales to protect their skin. They were handsome, some of them, too; male and female alike, like merfolk, there were a few beautiful ones that Kurt liked to look at like fine art.
And now, he sees how one particular pirate – the lone survivor, Kurt figures out – has been trying to keep himself alive. It's been interesting, watching him stray from the ship, care for his own wounds, and make attempts at feeding himself or collecting rainwater to drink. It's fascinating seeing how human will is so powerful and dominant when it comes to needing to persevere and strive for survival that a person goes to extreme measures.
And Kurt is simply in awe. Especially over this pirate, a young man of about twenty-five, someone who seems to be different than the pirates Kurt has heard stories about from his father, or occasionally gotten glimpses of himself.
His father, whom probably wonders day in and day out where Kurt flees to so often (namely the past four days), is a man of status and morality. Burt is part of the Council, and he dreadfully fears and despises humans. This saddens Kurt, even now, as he looks on this castaway and wonders how humans can be as despicable as Burt describes when they are actually very noble and like merfolk, as far as Kurt can tell.
Kurt would tell his father all about this human and how amazing he is if Kurt weren't so terrified of his father's disapproval. After all, because Burt is one of the leaders of the Council, he is highly opposed to interaction or observation of humans, because he thinks the former is incredibly dangerous, and the latter too risky. Kurt disagrees strongly, but what can he do? – Nothing, except continue his ventures to this island to look on the progress of this single human being.
0o0o0
It's been about four days, and the pirate is starting to truly struggle. And without understanding why, Kurt's heart aches for the poor human. He wishes he could help him somehow, without his knowing, because Kurt wouldn't know what he would do if the pirate discovered him gawking; it's embarrassing, but even beyond that, it's perilous, because humans are not supposed to be aware of mermaids' and mermen's existence. The humans already hypothesize that such beings could be real, and that's dicey enough as it is.
The merman wishes he knew the pirate's name. But it's not like the pirate has ever spoken his own name aloud, and in fact, the pirate hardly speaks at all. When he does, however… the shipwrecked man has the clearest, most attractive voice Kurt has ever heard from any sailor or mer-person, and he aches to hear it again, even if it's just for the pirate to utter a frustrated curse word or hum or sing to himself a sailing or pirate medley.
In fact, he just did it yesterday, singing something about a flower and blood, and despite the simplicity of the sea shanty, Kurt has already fallen in love with how pleasing the pirate's voice sounds when he sings, even if his voice is a hair raspy from the wear and tear of his predicament.
Kurt isn't sure what it is, but there is something that keeps bringing him back to watch over this castaway.
It could be the fact that the man on the island, even five and six days later, is healing and becoming more attractive, but also keeps acting out more and more as his frustration with trying to survive grows. And it could be the fact, too, that Kurt feels the need to be like an angel sent from the Heavens to look after the pirate, as if indirectly helping him live or aiding him in spirit. Or maybe he simply wants to see how things will play out.
Whatever the case, he can't stop staring at the rugged man. And whatever the case, it's the reason for his trip to the nearby island each day to help bring mangoes and bananas and coconuts to the man to help preserve his life and keep him plowing onward.
At one point, the pirate has scruffy week-old stubble on his cheeks and chin and around his mouth. Kurt admires the man's looks, because there's a beauty mark on his left cheek, near his nose. His eyes, from a distance, appear to be brown, but Kurt likes to think that they are hazel or green instead because of how light of a brown they appear to be. And the pirate is a little dirty and bloody, scuffed up from the collision, but otherwise he is tan and muscular and handsome.
And Kurt can't stop staring at him. As he perches himself on the face of a rock just beneath the surface of the water, he leans up and lifts his head above the surface, thankful of the angle to keep him hidden from the human's gaze. But Kurt is then free to observe the man all he pleases, up to hours at a time, and suddenly, Kurt finds himself sighing in a lovesick manner at the object of his obsessive affection.
"I wish I could talk to you," Kurt whispers on the ninth day since the storm. He sighs again, this time in a lamenting manner, and drops back down to the surface of the underwater rock, his cheek pressing to the sun-warmed boulder. He closes his eyes and runs his hand over the jagged rock as a bubble or two rises from his nose in the shallow water. "How did I become this obsessed with you? And why can I not interact with you?"
Suddenly, a voice breaks Kurt's reverie. "Because, Kurt. Humans – especially pirates – are violent creatures, remember? Do you not listen to Burt when he warns us of this over and over again?"
It is Finn's voice; he's Kurt's brother by adoption, since some rotten humans on a mermaid hunt killed his own parents. They found Finn's mother, and then his father showed up to protect her. Death ensued, and now Finn is a firm believer in everything Kurt's father teaches.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt turns around on his rock and sits down on it, his hands keeping him rooted to it as his tail stirs the water around him. He leans forward over where knees would be to keep his head below the surface of the water. "I listen to every word, Finn," Kurt scoffs as he looks out at the open sea behind the other merman. "But that does not mean that I agree with him. My father is…" He searches for the proper term, "Paranoid! Not every human is evil. They are not too different from us, I think. I think they merely look different, that is all."
Finn shakes his head, his arms folding over his lightly marked chest, marked with matching ripples from the more pronounced ones along his seahorse-like tail of rusty orange and golden yellow. His belly is a nice light yellow-cream, off-set from his peachy skin. His fin-like ears twitch, and his eyes narrow beneath the spiked mop of chestnut hair on his head.
His amber brown eyes are sharp as he says, "Kurt, you could stand to be a little more paranoid, then, because you can't forget what happened to my parents, can you? Every human deep down is the same as their killers were!" He gestures a hand outward in the water as he snaps, "Even your little infatuation up there is that way! Given the chance, he would hurt you."
Finn's face takes on a saddened, caring expression. He repeatedly lunges forward in the water, galloping without legs. Then, he wraps his tail around Kurt's to anchor himself. He then leans in to grip Kurt's face with his hands, his thumbs smoothing over Kurt's cheeks.
He tells the shorter merman gently, "Burt and I only want to keep you safe, Kurt. You are the only family we have, and we love you dearly."
Kurt nods, tears pricking his eyes even though he is physically incapable of actually crying. "You are right. I am sorry," Kurt murmurs, closing his eyes and tilting his head until it rests on Finn's collarbones. "I will not spy on the human again. And I will come home straight away."
Finn smiles softly, one hand moving to run through Kurt's light, sandy-brown locks. He then releases himself, starting to swim back toward their home, hoping that Kurt is following behind.
They live in the sunken city of Atlantis, abandoned by humans when an earthquake brought it under, and then re-inhabited by merfolk later on. It's a beautiful location, a place any human would love to see, since they are the ones who built it in the first place. It has crumbling architecture, seaweed and moss littering the stone, but it is still strong and lovely, and millions live in every nook and cranny, be they merfolk or fish.
Kurt lifts off from the rock and starts to tag along in his brother's wake, a lost expression on his face, thoughts troubling and plaguing him.
But as he swims off, he slows to a halt and peers over his shoulder at the island – or what he can see of it below the water's surface – and his heart tightens in his chest for a second time.
He knows that he will be coming back to see that pirate again very soon, despite his promise, and despite Finn's and Burt's warnings; after all, Kurt is in love, and that feeling just doesn't go away in a blink of time.
One night, Dave hears some splashing sounds coming from the shore of his small island. He grunts, forces himself up, and wanders with bleary eyes to the waves. He feels much stronger after a dozen days of being somehow fed each morning by an unseen force, and he's thankful that he's survived as long, as well as grateful to whomever his guardian angel may be.
As he makes his way to the source of the sound, something striking catches his eyes in the moonlight.
There, trapped in the uneven reef, lost from the lowered tide, is a large fish. Dave inches closer and moves to touch the thing to either eat it, or save it. And he very well might eat it; he has half a mind to, because he never gets much luck with his fishing, and he does get hungry in the evenings without his little deliveries to sustain him.
Although, in the end, David winds up saving it, because the second he truly lays eyes on the creature in the moonlight, he discovers that he had been only half correct; it's a fish, yes, but it's also a person. A boy. A merman.
In the tide pool around the sea creature, there are various fruits not native to the island floating in the saltwater, and suddenly, everything makes sense; Dave's nightly visitor who brings him food is this merman, and while making tonight's particular delivery, he got caught in the low tide and is now trapped in the shallow water meters from the ocean.
David's heart softens, and his face drops its confused expression to make way for a tender expression instead. "Hey, shh, it's gonna be all right. I'll help you get back out to sea 'gain," Dave mutters gruffly, and the merman stops flailing in the tide pool to quickly roll onto his back and stare up at the pirate with wide eyes.
"You… You are speaking to me," the merman gasps, his voice soft and lovely, nearly like a girl's, but somehow better than any maiden's Dave's ears have ever heard. "And… you are actually assisting me?" It smiles bittersweetly. "Here I thought you might kill me."
The pirate immediately feels empathy for the poor creature. "Now why would I do that t' ye? After all, you've been the one helpin' me, haven't you? Getting me food each morn'? Nay, I wouldn't kill my savior."
He kneels down to scoop the half-fish into his arms, one arm in the curve of tail just beyond about where the merman's rear would be if he were human, and then the other arm he loops behind the merman's shoulders, his hand gripping the ribs located just under its armpit.
"So you figured me out," Kurt remarks with a small smile. "Regardless, it is amazing in and of itself that you are speaking to me. Most would lave left me, or not had a word to say."
"Truly, what did ye expect I'd do? 'Course I'm gonna talk to ye as well. I'm not rude, and I wanted to thank ye for keepin' me alive." Dave chuckles, picking up the boy – he's surprisingly light for someone who's half weighed down by a flamboyant tail – and starts to carry him the ways down to the waves, and into deep enough water to let him go.
Dave grunts as he sets the merman down in water that is just up to Dave's hips. He wipes his brow from exerting himself when he's so tired, and he notices that the merman hasn't swum away just yet.
"Eh? What're you waitin' for, lad? Shouldn't ye be heading home, now?" Dave wonders, cocking his head and scratching his scalp under his hat (hmm, seems he accidentally fell asleep with it on again).
The merman shakes his head as he shuffles in place in the shallow water. "Not until I have properly thanked you. Do you mind getting down to my level for a moment?"
"Sure, I guess. Sun'll be up soon, so I can always dry me clothes." He kneels down in the water, lifting his stubbled chin slightly to continue breathing. He shivers at the cold of the sea at night, and uses his hands to tightly clench and unclench his maroon jacket, keeping his circulation flowing. "How're ye gonna thank me?"
The merman's eyelids lower, and his hands – lightly scaled and shiny in the moonlight, Dave notices – reach out to grip the lapels of Dave's coat. "With a kiss, naturally," he whispers, coming closer and flopping his tail backward a bit as he glides in the water to meet a startled Dave chest-to-chest, his cool lips pressing to Dave's parted and heated ones.
Dave makes a muffled sound of shock and discomfort (he's never kissed another man before, making this a tad awkward for him), eyes wrenching shut as he pants through his nose into the long, tender kiss, his own lips slowly unfreezing and reacting on their own accord.
In a snap, Dave breaks the kiss and pushes just hard enough for himself to break free. He falls backward, splashing loudly in the water, his hand on his mouth as he struggles to stand up again. His eyes wide, he stares down at the sea creature, and instead of being offended, the merman looks pleased and amused, and he even laughs.
"You are a comical human. What is your name, pirate?" the merman asks, using his arms to 'walk' along the sandy coral below, relaxing his tail as he inches closer again. "Because I cannot thank you fully unless I know your name."
"D-David," said pirate sputters as he looks down at the merman, who is now using Dave's pant leg to hoist himself up. Or, rather, drag Dave back down to eye-level. Dave's knees give out, and soon they are nose-to-nose in the shallow water.
"It is wonderful to finally get to meet you, David," the sea creature purrs, hands ghosting over Dave's wet clothes to grip his sleeves. He leans back, smiling softly again. "Thank you for saving me. I could have dried up in the sun come morning, if not for you."
Dave swallows and mumbles, "Well, er. I'm not heartless, lad. Had to help ye, since you technically saved me, and I believe in debts to pay. I might be a pirate, but I'm a decent man. Ne'er took what was valuable to others, 'n' that includes their lives. If I hadn't been shipwrecked, I mighta even became a better man soon 's I had 'nough booty to make meself a livin', and get meself a proper education."
"Then you have proved to me that not all humans – or pirates, for that matter – are evil. So thank you, truly. And you can expect to see me again, David." And with that, the merman is doing a half-flip backward, catching himself with his palms on the ground before swimming away.
"Wait!" Dave calls out, sloshing as he stomps messily through the water, one arm outstretched as if he could catch the boy. The merman's head is suddenly popping up from the surface about two meters away, clearly a fast swimmer for being so far already.
"Yes?" it returns with a smirk.
Dave stops short and drops his arm to his side to join the other. "I…" He cuts himself off. Trying again, he inquires, "What be your name, then, lad?"
"Kurt," the merman replies with a grin. He swims a little closer again. "My name is Kurt. And I am no 'lad,' by the way; I am probably older than you are, despite how youthful I may look to you. We merfolk live a long time, you understand."
Dave blinks, but nods as he absorbs the information. He almost feels as though this were a dream. But how can it be, when the wet, cold, heavy feeling of his clothes on his skin is so incredibly vivid, the sensation adding to the sights before him?
As a slow reply, Dave says, "All right then, Kurt. Sorry I 'ssumed so much. But I wonder, how soon will I see ye 'gain?" Because even though Kurt is male and Dave has never thought himself to be into that sort of thing, he can't get over how it felt to be kissed by the merman, and he can't stop staring at Kurt's unadulterated beauty; even in the dim light of the moon, the sea creature is stunning, and he's all variations of the word 'alluring.'
"I daresay as early as tomorrow or the following day. I still need to get you more food, unless you wish to clean the ones in the tide pool. But when I arrive, do not look for me; I will come to you." He pauses. Then, smiling anew, the merman says sweetly, "Good night, David," and then turns and high-tails it out into the open sea, far from reach.
Trekking back to the island, Dave's mind teems with thoughts, enough that it takes him quite a while to fall back asleep, the first signs of dawn just on the horizon.
0o0o0
Kurt twirls through the water in a giddy fashion as he swims back toward the island, feeling the rush of indulging in the forbidden heighten his senses and make him dizzy with the adrenaline it sends out. He feels like a rebel, daring and adventurous – daresay like a pirate – as he returns to the place that changed his life the night he accidentally swam too close to shore before the tide came, and was incidentally saved by the person he fell in love with.
And seeing such kindness toward him made him fall in love all the more, and sharing that kiss – that lovely, sweet kiss that he initiated – only fueled his reasoning to break the rules again and get close. This time more intentionally, food in his hands above the water as the sun breaks the horizon and lifts his spirits even further, if possible.
This time, too, Kurt intends on speaking to the pirate. David. The name rolls off of Kurt's tongue and tickles his innards. He loves the sound of that name, and he loves even more how his own name had sounded coming from the owner of that name.
He sets the food on shore and with a smile, calls out to the still slumbering human. "David, breakfast is here," he jokes, and the man snorts awake, smacking his head adorably on the top of his shelter. Kurt giggles and leans up against some coral, smiling to himself as Dave blinks, rubs his eyes as if to rid his vision of a mirage, and then proceeds to stumble-run over to where Kurt is in the water.
"Kurt! Hello! I nearly thought I dreamed y' up," Dave yawns. He sits down near the drop-off point, picking up the bundle and unwrapping it. "So this is how ye transport things, eh?" Dave muses. It's an old fishing net, and just looking at it, he gets an idea. "Would ye mind, Kurt, if I kept this t' fish with?"
"Oh! I did not even consider that, but it would be useful, would it not? So yes, of course you may use it. I feel foolish for not thinking of it before," the merman remarks.
"Yer not foolish," Dave says, swallowing a bite of fruit and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Ye prob'ly didn't realize what I could use it fer, that's all. I don't care, so long 's I can use it now. Speakin' of which, how did you get this?"
"I found it littering the water, most likely leftover from a fishing vessel or a ship like your own. I didn't want any creatures to get caught in it and die, so I took it with me. It proved useful for collecting and bringing food to you, more than what my hands could carry." Kurt answers. He idly reaches out a hand and touches Dave's booted foot. He smiles. "I am glad that it's more useful to you than me. I want you to live, David."
Dave freezes and looks down at the merman. "Why, though? What am I to you? I'm only one human, y'know."
"Perhaps, but you are different than other humans, and I am fond of you," Kurt murmurs, his face tinting with color. He glances away. "I pitied you, and then studied you, and I came to like you. You are very interesting."
The pirate laughs. "Funny, 'cause I never thought I was very interestin'," he comments around another bite. Chewing, he thinks of something. "Kurt, can you explain somethin' t' me?"
"If it is within my knowledge, I will try to, yes," Kurt says cautiously. "Why, what is on your mind?"
"I was just thinkin': how come I've never seen one of yer kind around before? And why is it mermaids and the like are always 'ssociated with deaths? I keep hearin' tales of mermaids seducing men and drowning them, or mermaids acting as sirens, and very little of them savin' anybody. So why did you help me, 'side pity and interest?"
"Mermaids are associated with death because many humans capture or kill our kind as prizes, and because of this, we are forced to… retaliate," Kurt explains darkly. He glances up, his face intense. "We do not seduce mankind, and we do not save them. In fact, we are told to avoid them completely, which is why you never see us. And yet…" He nibbles on his flawless bottom lip, and Dave feels himself drawn in closer somehow. Their eyes connect. "I had to be near you. Humans have always fascinated me, and you are such a special case, David. So I helped you. And here I am, speaking to you. Is that explanation satisfactory enough for you?"
"Plenty," Dave remarks quietly, leaning backward again. His busies himself with finishing eating and is relieved that Kurt doesn't leave his side, nor does the sea creature stare. He simply waits, and when Dave's finished, he starts to remove his boots and shirt and jacket.
Kurt's eyes dart to Dave's moving form, and he puzzles over the actions. "What are you doing?" he asks, feeling heat in his cheeks again as David has more and more skin showing, all of it marvelously tan like the rest of him, and less marks on his skin now that he has had about two weeks to heal.
"I'm gonna go for a swim, what's it look like I'm doin'?" Dave retorts with a grin. "I haven't had a decent swim in a long while, and I'm about due for a bath. 'Sides, it's really hot t'day." And with that, he dives over the edge, mindful of other coral, and pops up for a breath less that a meter behind where Kurt peers over his shoulder. "Ye don't mind if I join ye, right?"
"N-no, of course not," Kurt stutters, flipping backward and resurfacing once he's next to the pirate. He's sorely tempted to reach out and see what Dave's skin feels like beyond a kiss or the touch of a hand. The curls on Dave's chest distract his eyes; merfolk only have hair on their heads and nowhere else. They have short lashes, thin eyebrows, and hair of all lengths, but that is all. Only taunt, smooth skin with the occasional patch of scales is elsewhere. So for Kurt to be up close with a half-nude human who has hair in other places besides on his head is strange and tempting to be around.
David chortles and flips onto his back to float with his hands resting behind his head, his feet idly pushing him along. "Yer staring, Kurt. Do I really look that bizarre to ye?"
"You honestly do," Kurt whispers, and he has to forcibly tear his eyes away from Dave's attractive build. He feels too warm, and swims a decent distance apart from the human as he follows him. "And you should be careful so not to drift too far out to sea –"
"If I do, ye can always swim me back to land 'gain, couldn't ya?" Dave suggests with a quirk of his catlike brow.
Kurt's mouth opens and closes in rapid succession, as if about to say something a few different times and then thinking better of it. He simply nods, and then returns to his task of swimming. He has to catch up with Dave, who recently rolled over onto his stomach and started stroking powerfully forward.
"How 'bout a race? Doubt I'll win since I don't have fins like you, but I 'ppose I could get pretty far. Wanna try? Our goal can be a lap 'round the island, starting at my shelter and ending there again," David offers with a smirk. Truthfully, he wants to swim past the wreckage to see how things have changed. He's a little fearful of how the bodies might look, but also curious to see what has drifted away and what hasn't.
Kurt nods, grinning. "Challenge accepted, David. When I beat you, try not to mourn your loss too heavily."
"Them's fightin' words, merman," the other retorts. "Ready yerself, make set, and go!"
They explode in the water, Kurt diving under to blast through like a cannonball, Dave gasping through water in his mouth; and how unfair that is, since he can't hold his breath the same way. But it doesn't matter, because as soon as David reaches the shipwreck, he stops and treads water as he stares at it from a different viewpoint.
The scouting boats are missing. He prays that this means some of the crewmembers truly did get away safely. And, he sees, that there is a gaping hole, the ship broken in half around it. Birds sit atop what's left of the sails, all lined up like little soldiers. And already fish are calling the innards of the hold sunken into the reef their home.
"David?" Kurt calls. He started swimming back as soon as he realized that he was racing no one but the swordfish nearby. He swims up right next to the bobbing pirate and touches his shoulder. "…David?"
"That ship was my life for so long," Dave murmurs, his sea-dog accent softened to a gentle English one almost unconsciously when he's being quiet and serious, his face woeful and full of memories. "I think I forgot what it's like not to be a pirate, sailin' the open seas at will."
Dave shakes his head. Kurt looks at him tenderly, but Dave doesn't notice. Instead, he dives under the water and swims down, eyes open (stinging at first, then growing accustomed to it), and peers at the remainder of the wreckage. And there, pinned down by the girth of the ship, pale and lifeless and bloated, is the corpse of Jesse St. James.
Dave reels backward as soon as he recognizes his former captain, and he lets out a scream that chokes him as bubbles rise and water starts to fill his throat. He bursts from the surface, hacking, and Kurt is there to soothe him.
Rubbing his broad back in circles, Kurt asks apprehensively, "David, what is it? What did you see? Is something wrong?"
"M-my cap'n," Dave mutters tonelessly, still gasping for air. He heaves a breath, and Kurt starts guiding him to shore past the wreckage. "I thought he might've escaped, since he always was a tricky bastard. But no, no, he's there, all right. He went down with 'is bloody ship. And now that image is gonna haunt me dreams for weeks, 'cause I don't think I liked him much, but I didn't hate him so I'd wish death upon 'im," he relays as his panic starts to grow.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there, matey," Kurt says, trying to calm the poor human down. The merman leads him to a rock above water to sit on, and once he's seated in a hunched-over fashion, Kurt leans up using Dave's knees as leverage and places a tentative kiss on Dave's chin.
Blinking, Dave straights and peers down at the merman. "What was that for?"
"To comfort you," Kurt replies softly. "And to help you forget whatever it is you saw."
David nods as if that makes perfect sense. In a way, that tiny kiss does comfort him, and help him wipe the sight from his memory bank. He releases a slow breath, his shoulders losing their uneasiness. He slides off of the rock and backs up against it, taking Kurt by the biceps and bringing him closer. They bump bare chests, and Dave secures his grip by locking his arms around Kurt's waist. "I think I could use a bit more forgetting, though, if ye don't mind obliging."
"I shall oblige gladly," Kurt smirks with a short laugh as he leans in and kisses the pirate deeper than he has previously. Dave holds onto him as if his life depends on it, and kisses the merman back quite fiercely, enough to leave Kurt breathless.
"Thank you," David murmurs.
And it's enough to solidify whatever it is they have between them, bonding the pair together.
They spend the following week using the small fishing net Kurt gave to the pirate to catch fish together, and eat them nearly side by side as Dave sits on the edge of the shore by the drop-off point of the reef, and Kurt bobs in the water.
Kurt eats the fish raw, Dave cooks his, and they chat about things; families, traditions and customs amongst their people, and then all of the odd gizmos and gadgets between their worlds, many on the human's side of things involving fire or heat, and many of the merman's side of things involving sea creatures from all across the deep blue.
It isn't until a concerned and slightly outraged Finn catches Kurt again at the end of the week that Dave thinks he isn't going to see Kurt again.
0o0o0
"Burt is going to go mad! I will try to cover for you, but you must be more careful, Kurt!"
"Wait a moment," Kurt says, frowning. He tears his arm out of Finn's grip. They are not halfway home when Finn started talking again after quite loudly dragging Kurt away from the island. He clarifies slowly, "Since when are you on my side?"
"Since I started following you earlier this week. I was curious to see where you keep wasting your time, and I found you back at the island you swore to me you would never visit. I was going to drag you away each time like I did today, but instead, I waited and watched. And I saw him kiss you, and you kiss him. And I realized that he must not be as dangerous as I thought humans were if he is showing affection toward you," Finn explains in a rush as he swims in a circle, his spiral tail fidgeting.
"All right, that much I comprehend, but why, then, did you take me away today after deciding that David is not evil?" Kurt wonders, still with puckered eyebrows.
"Because Burt sent me to find you this time. Before I was coming on my own accord, but today, he was asking for you. He worries for you, because I think he wishes to have you be part of the Council one of these days, and yet you always run off…" Finn murmurs in reply, his hands twisting up. "And I worry as well, because I do not wish for things to go wrong one of these days. If they do, I do not want to lose you. You are the only one I trust besides Burt, and even then, I fear him a little, even if he cared for me after my parents were murdered."
Kurt nods slowly. "I think I understand, Finn. I will try to be more careful, and I will speak to Father as soon as we are back home."
Finn sighs with relief. "Good. That is all that I am asking for."
0o0o0
"…Kurt? Is that you?" Dave yawns early one morning when he hears something rustle out on the water. He stirs and sits up when he hears it again.
He looks out, squinting his eyes in the dim dawn, and then nearly screams with delight when he spies a ship headed his way in the distance, the fog bell ringing every now and then as the waves rush to the island with more force than usual due to the ship in the distance.
Dave scrambles up from his small shelter and begins adding onto last night's fire, relighting it as quickly as possible and assign as much wood and canvass as he can locate without returning completely to the wreckage on the other side. He starts waving his arms in the air as dawn approaches and lights the way.
"Here, over here! I'm 'ere, damn you! SAVE ME!"
0o0o0
After speaking with Burt, Kurt isn't hindered. He doesn't confess to his secret meetings, Finn supplies a vague but doable excuse for Kurt's absences, and all goes well.
Kurt returns each day, food and all, because he loves to spend time with David, and David is always happy to see him, sometimes even greeting Kurt with a loving peck on the cheek.
Practically swooning in the water, Kurt does a dolphin dive – temporarily forgetting of the food he's carrying, but hoping that it doesn't matter – and swims closer to his goal. He is in love, so much in love.
Kurt can't wait any longer; he rounds a corner of reef and peers out, his eyes scanning the thin trees and wispy grass until he locates the lone figure amongst the scattered bits of wood leftover from the ruined ship, and the burning pile of said wood beside the figure.
It's a signal fire, vast and bewitchingly beautiful and terrifying (merfolk fear fire, because it is like the sun, and it easily fries their skin and shrivels up their tails). He jerks his head in the direction of Dave's gaze, and Kurt spies a ship in the distance. It's part of a fleet, royal flags of some human civilization or another flapping in the wind. The colors are red, white, and blue, and they are in vertical thirds.
Kurt frowns in confusion, and then panic takes over. If that ship finds David, they will take him away, and then Kurt may never seen him again!
Acting quickly without thinking much first, Kurt swims eagerly over to the island, to his favorite rock and beyond, until he is right up against a drop in the coral where he can peer upward at the land without getting stuck in the shallow waters. He dumps the coconuts and fruits onto the shoreline and aims to get Dave's attention.
"David!" he calls out, thrusting a hand out of the water to mimic the waving the lone pirate is doing at the distant vessel.
Dave stops and turns, his gaze landing on Kurt's hair. He rushes over to him. "It's great ye be here, Kurt; mind helpin' me bring that ship over? I am thirsty and half-dead, and I'd love to be rescued. I lost all my crew when the ship went down, and now…"
Kurt's heart tugs in his chest. He covers his breastbone with a hand and forces a smile. He would like to trick Dave into staying, he would like to be selfish and lure the ship away instead, but he can't do that. He loves David too much to see him suffer – hence why he keeps bringing food – and if this ship means the pirate's survival, then Kurt is willing to sacrifice the chance of never seeing the rugged sailor again in order to further return the favor of being saved.
"Of course I will help you, David," he relays lowly, praying that his voice doesn't give away his sorrow. "I will swim over there and make sure they see your fire, and if I must, I will pose as part of your crew, sent as a messenger, to alert them. Is that all right?"
"That's perfect! Thank ye, Kurt. Truly. Remind me to give y' 'nother thank-you kiss 'fore I board that French vessel." He wrinkles his nose and laughs dryly. "Wish it weren't French. The French are not very kind t' me, never have been. But a ship is a ship, an' it came jus' in time, too," Dave relays tiredly but excitedly, and Kurt's heart tugs in his chest again, because how did he even have the passing thought of being selfish?
"I shall return," Kurt murmurs, and with a heartbreaking smile that makes Dave's face fall flat and look concerned, Kurt turns and rushes off toward the large boat. He wishes he could have spent more time with the pirate. He wishes he could have said more, touched more, done more; more than three-or-so weeks of observing, more than a few face-to-face encounters, more than solely this.
Although, Kurt ponders while he swims, he could always disregard his family and follow the ship to wherever it goes to find out where Dave lands. And, regrettably, that might have to be what Kurt does.
In minutes, Kurt is out by the ship. He lingers in the shadow it casts on the water, and he strains his lightly pointed ears to catch any voices echoing down his way.
"Capi-tan! Do you see ze fire over zere? Someone is stranded!"
"Oui, I see it. Castaways are so tragic. Let us help him out, no?"
"But Capi-tan, if he is a danger to us…"
"Fret not; if he is foe, we will run him through. But if not, he can be another helping hand for the rigging, no?"
"Oui. Shall I bring in ze sails and set course for zat island, monsieur?"
"Let it be done." A laugh. "I do so wonder what zis fellow looks like. Must have gone through some rough times. See to it that he is taken care of when he boards, if he is not foe."
"Aye-aye, Capi-tan!"
And with that, Kurt dives into the water again and swims hastily back to shore. When he reaches it, Dave hasn't moved from his post near the water where Kurt had been last.
"I heard them speaking to one another," Kurt says a tad breathlessly from swimming so fiercely.
"What'd they say?" Dave returns, jumping when he hears Kurt's voice before he sees him. He leans down near the water on all fours and looks nervous.
"They are coming for you, but they plan to kill you if you are not an ally. And you said that you are not, if they are French like you say…" Kurt says worriedly, peering up at the castaway with sad eyes.
Dave nibbles on his bottom lip. "It's true. I'm not, 'cause I be a pirate, and the French – they are French, I can see their flags – anyway, the French dislike pirates. They hang 'em like the English do, or they pluck out their hearts with their swords. Either way, I'll be a dead man 'less I come up with a way to disguise meself."
He sighs, dropping backward into his bottom. He removes his hat and hastily starts switching out his weapons and covering up his various tattoos with his clothes. He even removes his earrings – a tarnished gold hoop in each ear – and stuffs them in his pocket along with his rings.
Dave smirks. "Good thing I always keep me hair short and me teeth mostly clean. Hate to have those be my giveaway." His catlike brows meet. "Though, I might be given away yet if I can't find a way to disguise me voice. I have a God-awful vocab'lary." He looks back at Kurt and asks, "What d'ye propose I do, Kurt?"
"Feign being a mute if you wish to not give yourself away as a pirate due to your patterns of speech. And if you can, ask for a change of clothes, but change away from anyone else on the ship. Do this and you should be safe," Kurt puzzles out logically, and then offers a reassuring smile. "I have faith in you, David. You will survive yet."
The pirate grins and leans down to grab hold of the merman and bring him closer to the islands drop-off point. Careful not to fall in, Dave plants a kiss on Kurt's lips and whispers, "Thank ye greatly, Kurt. You've been such a help t' me today. You're a good friend, and here I thought, ye being a merman, you'd trick me or somethin'. How wrong I was."
"I would never do that to you," Kurt murmurs, feeling guilty that he had at least considered it, though, for his own selfish reasons of wanting to be with this man, the one he has come to love so immensely so quickly. He glances over his shoulder at the approaching vessel. Turning back, he says softly as he touches Dave's face, "Here it comes, and I wish you only the best, David. I pray we meet again, but Fate can be cruel, so perhaps not. Still, I will miss you. Farewell."
And before Dave can speak a word, Kurt turns and dives back into the water. He can't stand to be near David now, not when his heart is aching this much. He knows that he can't risk the ship seeing him, and because of that, he might not be able to follow it, even from below the surface. Being gone too long will only make Finn or Burt himself come after Kurt, and that, too, is risky and hindering.
So Kurt will have to settle with admiring Dave from afar again, except this time, the distance is even greater, and it isn't a guarantee he will ever even find the pirate again.
To himself, once Kurt is gone and the ship's scouting boat is nearly to the island, Dave mutters to himself, "I'll miss ye, too, Kurt." His voice lowers even more, dropping again into the accent from another point in his life. "I wish I could have told you that I love you."
And he touches his mouth as if he could still feel Kurt's lips there. And he closes his eyes as if he could still hear Kurt's voice ringing pure, strong, and unbidden in his ears, saying indirectly that he loves Dave, too.
Six years afterward…
It's another cloudy, drearily grey day, and the sky is threatening the sailors out at sea with rain.
David Karofsky yanks the rope running along the pulley and hoists the fishing net of his small three-men ship up onto the deck. He swings it over, and something incredibly big and heavy is flopping around inside the net.
"Lads, I require some assistance over 'ere!" Dave grunts loudly as he yells over the floundering fish slapping the wood and metal of the boat's deck and ledges. The younger one of the two (the older one steering the teeny vessel) scrambles over from his task of carving into a piece of wood to help secure the net and cut it open.
A school of tuna flops about, but amidst them, finally visible and freed, is a large fish tangled in some uprooted seaweed. Dave's heart stops in his chest.
"Lad, go into the steering quarters with your brother."
"But, Cap'n –"
"Do as I say!" Dave snaps, and the boy – Stevie is his name – jumps in his skin and skitters over to where his blond brother Sam is peering out, a confused frown on his face while he guides the wheel. Dave bends down, heart hammering in his chest. In a whisper to himself, he says, "Please, just be a big fish. Don't be a mermaid…"
"I fear I am one, fisherman," comes a muffled voice, and Dave feels as though that particular tone is familiar to him. He licks his salt-dried lips and moves to peel back the seaweed, untangling it from around the mermaid's body. "Please, let me go," it says, eyes squeezed shut even as Dave uncovers its face. It isn't a mermaid at all; it's a merman, and nowhere in the deep blue sea has he even been more shocked to see this individual.
David feels his heart clench and start hammering so ferociously that he wonders if it won't beat right out of his ribcage, flying with wings from its speed. "…Kurt?" he asks in a croak, his voice tight with tears of joy and guilt.
The merman peeks open his eyes, his hands flying to his mouth. His stops his thrashing, his tail calming on the deck of the fishing boat.
"Cap'n? What's the matter?" Sam calls out. He can't see past Dave's back, but the man has been stooped, staring, at something in the net for a while now, and some of the tuna are escaping. To his little brother, Sam instructs, "I know he told you not to move, Stevie-boy, but I want you to at least gather up the fish over there. We have to make profit somehow today, else poor Stacy might go hungry again, and I can't have that."
"Right, Brother," Stevie nods. He cautiously makes his way down the short deck, nearing the thirty-one-year-old man. "Uh, Cap'n…?" But he cuts himself off with a gasp.
The older fisherman is crying, body shaking with sobs, as he has his arms wrapped around the torso of a human being, their own arms clinging to Dave's neck. But no, wait, that person isn't human, because its nails are scales, shiny and translucently blue-green, and Stevie can see no legs sprouting from the person's waist.
"Sammy!" he yelps and runs back to his older brother. Stevie is but twelve years old, Sam merely twenty, and neither of them are very educated in the ways and legends and myths of the sea. But even Stevie has heard of merfolk, because Captain Karofsky repeatedly tells them tales about how a merman saved his life when he was shipwrecked on an island once, suggestively long ago.
"What is it?" Sam questions as Stevie grips Sam's shirt and looks up at him with his shining blue eyes.
"I think it's the merman the cap'n told us about. He's embracing it," Stevie whispers. "It's odd."
But Dave isn't hearing a word of this. Instead, he's crying onto Kurt's already wet shoulder, blubbering clips of phrases as Kurt simply smiles and closes his eyes, his own heart aching as much as Dave's.
Mermaids cannot cry. Kurt was taught this, has felt this. But as Dave clings to him, mumbling through his own tears ("Never stopped lovin' ye… Missed you so much… Waited to see you 'gain… Came back t' me… Fate's kind at times… Love me, too?"), Kurt can't help but start to cry, two single tears pink with blood from the lack of use of his tear ducts streaking down his pale, slightly matured face.
"Not a day went by that I didn't wonder about you, David," Kurt whispers in Dave's ear as he leans up to press a cool kiss to Dave's temple. "And when merfolk love, they love forever. Because, yes, I love you as well."
And this somehow calms David's tears, and he sniffs and sits down, pulling Kurt into a semi-sitting position on the net, and Dave realizes he lost about half of the tuna, but he can always get it all back again if he needs to. All that matters right now is being miraculously reunited with his love, a happy coincidence born of awful circumstance (a mer-person caught in a fisherman's net? That is dangerous, and hopefully not a reoccurring thing for merfolk).
Kurt touches Dave's face; it looks odd the way it does, six years older than before, his skin darker from being in the sun more, but his jaw clean of stubble. His hazel eyes are shimmering still from his tears, and he has never looked more handsome.
"This time, I can trace where you go, and I can start to visit you at night, when no one will see me. And we can be together like we were before," Kurt says softly. "But right now, you need to release me. Your crewmates are suspicious and gaping, and I think you might need to keep them quiet somehow, if anyone is to hear their story and believe them."
Dave nods sadly and leans in to kiss Kurt languidly. When he pulls back, he lifts Kurt up like he had the moment they met, and he moves to the side of the boat.
"So it is true!" Sam gasps, startled, and Stevie grips Sam's shirt where he hides behind his older brother's body. "What are you doing with it?"
"You have a big heart, Evans. Don't be telling me that you wouldn't set this creature free like I am," Dave retorts, sending a look over his shoulder as he holds Kurt over the edge. His arms tremble, but not from the weight. Instead, he's trying to will himself to let go and not keep Kurt where he doesn't belong.
Sam swallows. "Aye, Cap'n, I do have a big heart. Which means I'll act like this never happened, even if it won't leave my memory, and I'd surely have let it go myself in the same situation. But sir, I have to know: is that the one? The one who saved you years ago?"
Dave looks down at Kurt in his arms, and Kurt returns the gaze, a smile on the corners of his mouth and understanding admiration in his eyes. David grins warmly, not breaking eye contact with Kurt even as he replies to the young blond, "Yes, it's the same one, by the grace of God." And with that, he murmurs a quick goodbye, Kurt wishing him well, and he drops Kurt into the ocean.
Kurt waves and makes a fleeting glance at the small fishing boat before diving into the waters, unseen until Dave knows they will meet again.
Sam nods at the display. "I wish you both happiness," he comments softly. Behind him, Stevie nods and slowly releases his older brother's shirttail.
"Yeah," Stevie pipes up, "I wish that, too. And I hope you'll see each other again soon."
"We made a promise to do just that," Dave grins, wiping his eyes on his coat sleeve and moving to gather up the net and re-set it on the pulley system to try fishing again. "And I trust him to keep his word, because Kurt's always been the sort to admire from afar. I bet he's doing it right now, watchin' over us like a little sea-angel, waitin' t' follow me home."
The two Evans brothers glance at once another, and they decide to leave it at that. It's strange, the love their captain has for the seemingly young merman, but they aren't arguing with it; who are they to stand in the way? So instead, Sam sets a new course, Stevie changes the topic, and they return to fishing.
0o0o0
Kurt eyes the shore line, his tail mirroring the stars in the Heavens as the clear autumn night moon shines bright and true like a sword in battle. Kurt dances among the stars' reflections in the sea as he makes his way toward the shore. There is a particular little house lit by a single lantern that he's been visiting for the past four hundred fifty-two consecutive nights.
As a member of the Merfolk Council as his father's right-hand man, Kurt has made it a priority to open up an ambassador system amongst his people for their brothers on land, the humans that were once thought to be dangerous. And he started this venture by proving to them that he can live half a life peacefully with at least one human, the same human who has both saved Kurt from drying up in a tide pool and getting caught and killed by a net attached to a fishing vessel. Finn backed up his story, sided with him, helped convince the others. And thus they agreed to the system, after seeing how caring a human can be (because surely if there is one good seed, there are others elsewhere?). Above all else, Burt was one to agree because he's never seen his son more contented in his life.
And so, with this change on the rise, Kurt is headed into a bright future; one that begins with Dave standing with his hands in his pockets on the dock where his private fishing boat is tied, a smile on his face and love in his eyes.
Le fin. (pun intended.)