Author's Note: The first mate isn't based on any Voltron character.
Keith looked up from the deck at the sound of his crewmates' shouts.
"Get over here, Boy!" the first mate barked at him.
Keith dropped the brush he'd been scrubbing the deck with and walked over to the men struggling with the giant winch.
"About time! Put your back into it," the first mate ordered Keith. Keith frowned and obeyed, struggling to help his crewmates turn the crank. Little by little, they hoisted the waterlogged net out of the water. The bottom of the net refused to clear the surface. Keith gritted his teeth and pushed as hard as he could. At last the net rose up beside the ship.
Keith wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and peered into the net. At once he was transfixed. He knew as well as anyone that they were out to catch a mermaid, but the creatures were famously elusive. Personally, he doubted they existed. Except now he was seeing the tanned torso of a boy about his age fade into a long, blue tail. It was like seeing a dragon.
"Quit your gawking and help!" The first mate surprised Keith out of his trance as the other men lowered the net to the deck. "Useless," he muttered.
Keith bit back a retort and approached the net.
The mermaid's sharp eyes darted to Keith. "What are you looking at, Mullet?"
Keith averted his eyes as his crewmates laughed.
"Let's hope the king likes feisty ones," someone remarked.
"Get going," the first mate snapped, though even he seemed pleased with the catch.
Keith helped the men haul the net to the hold below deck, then watched as they opened it and tossed the mermaid into the waiting cage. He couldn't help but wince as the mermaid slammed into the bars.
He followed the first mate back above deck. "What does the king want with a mermaid, anyway?"
The first mate looked at him, surprised. "For his exotic animal collection, of course. God, you're slow. It'll be off our hands as soon as we reach port, and a pretty reward for us. Don't worry about things you're too stupid to understand." He looked around. "This deck is still filthy! Get to work!"
That evening Keith noticed one of his crewmates taking a plate down to the hold. He abandoned the rest of his dinner and followed. His crewmate opened the trapdoor and climbed down the ladder, leaving the trapdoor open. Keith crouched down to watch.
"Getcha biscuits."
"You think I'm going to eat that?" The mermaid crossed his arms and turned away. "Screw you."
"Your loss." The sailor shrugged and turned around.
Keith quickly drew back from the trapdoor and retreated down the hallway. He pretended to be tying his shoe as the sailor passed. For some reason the mermaid fascinated him. He crept back to the trapdoor, making sure no one was nearby, and knelt down to crack it open.
"Who's there?" The mermaid's voice rang out in the darkness.
Keith dropped the trapdoor and hurried back to his bunk.
The following night most of the crew were playing cards and drinking. Keith wasn't invited. No one seemed to care when he volunteered to bring food to the mermaid.
He hesitated before the trapdoor, admonished himself for his ridiculousness, and pulled it open. He climbed down into the dim hold and approached the cage.
The mermaid eyed him warily. "Oh, it's you again. Got anything to say to me, Mullet?"
Keith set the plate down in front of the bars. "Why won't you eat?"
The mermaid squinted as if trying to figure him out. "Oh, I don't know know. Maybe because I know I'm going into a life of slavery?" He leaned forward, wrapping his hands around the bars. "Between you and me, I'd rather not reach port alive."
Keith looked away from the mermaid's intense stare. "You should eat," he said to the ground, and turned to leave. He felt the mermaid's eyes on his back as he climbed back up the ladder.
That night Keith sat up on deck, the sounds of singing and arguing in turn drifting up from below. He looked up at the Moon. They were speeding towards port now, flying all possible sail. Once they got there, they'd turn over the mermaid, get paid, and maybe he'd go home with some money. It was everything he could have hoped for signing on to this trip. Except he couldn't sleep. Every time he tried to rest he thought of the mermaid, and what the mermaid had said.
The sounds from below quieted as one by one, the men passed out. Keith scowled at his knees. What would Shiro do? His big brother always knew the best thing to do. What would he say?
"He'd say, 'you know this is wrong,' " Keith murmured to himself. He stood up. He was going to do something stupid. There'd be a price, but at least his conscience would be quiet.
Keith stole below deck, stopping only to grab a candle from beside his bunk. Then he made his way to the hold, carefully closing the trapdoor behind him.
He paused in front of the cage. The mermaid was curled up in a ball, sleeping. To Keith's surprise, there were a few bites taken out of the biscuits. It could've been rats. He looked at the mermaid again. He looked peaceful sleeping like that. Keith set the candle down and got to work picking the lock.
A few minutes later the mermaid stirred and pushed up off the floor. "What are you doing?"
"Shh." Keith gave him a warning scowl and went back to the lock. This one was trickier than the ones he was used to. He couldn't quite get it. He refused to acknowledge that his hands were shaking.
The mermaid scooted to the front of the cage, watching. "You're not very good at that, are you?" he remarked after a moment.
"Shut up!" Keith whispered roughly. The mermaid had touched a sore spot. He blew out a breath and went back to the lock. At least the mermaid didn't interrupt again. At last the lock turned and Keith sat back on his heels, sighing. His face relaxed into a smile. Then he froze.
"Yeah!" the mermaid cried.
Keith lunged forward and jammed his hand through the bars, covering the mermaid's mouth. The mermaid started to jerk away, then froze like Keith. They sat still, paralyzed, as heavy boots paused overhead.
Keith held his breath, trying to imagine what would happen if they got caught because that was easier than thinking about the mermaid inches away from him. Easier than thinking about the mermaid's nervous blue eyes, or the way his skin felt under his palm.
At last the footsteps moved on. Keith withdrew his hand, wishing the floor would swallow him.
The mermaid broke the silence. "So. Are we leaving, or what?"
"Yeah," Keith mumbled, unable to control the blush rising to his cheeks. He looked back at the ladder, taking a minute to gather himself. He turned to the mermaid. "I, uh, I think I'll have to carry you."
The mermaid's vexed expression revealed he had come to the same conclusion. He rearranged his features into a dazzling smile, revealing perfect pearly teeth. "I'm all yours, Baby."
"Right." Keith busied himself with moving the candle and plate to the side and opening the cage door. Then he was face-to-face with the mermaid again and his heart refused to beat properly. But the mermaid was watching him so he had no choice but to get moving. He knelt and carefully slid one arm behind the mermaid's back, the other beneath the curve of the enormous tail. The tail was smooth and cool to the touch. And heavy, Keith realized as he struggled to his feet.
The mermaid hooked his arms around Keith's neck. "The name's Lance, by the way."
"Keith," Keith mumbled. He carried Lance to the ladder, then quickly realized this wasn't going to work. "You need to go over my shoulder," he said to Lance.
Lance sighed. "Let's do it."
After a few moments of sweaty adjustment, Lance hung over Keith's shoulder. Keith contemplated the ladder. This was easier. Now he didn't have the mermaid's—Lance's—eyes pinning him as he tried to think.
"You've got this," Lance whispered, propping up his elbow on Keith's back. "It's just a…I don't know what this is. What is this?"
"Shh," Keith whispered, but he couldn't help a smile from crossing his lips. He set his foot on the bottom rung. "It's called a ladder."
"Ladder," Lance whispered. "Ladder, ladder, ladder."
Keith grinned as he climbed the ladder. Lance pushed the trapdoor open at the top and they emerged into the dim light of the hallway.
Keith set Lance down on the floor and fell back against the wall. "I need a break." He glanced at Lance. "You're pretty heavy."
"Or you need to work out," Lance shot back.
Keith shook his head. "You've got a lot of nerve."
"That's what they tell me."
"Come on." This time Keith swept Lance up more confidently and was able to quickly get above deck. He made his way to the gap in the side of the ship where the mutineer's plank jutted out over the water. He set Lance down carefully on the plank then leaned back against the side of the ship, catching his breath. He looked out at the water. "You're free now."
Lance looked out too. "I guess I am." He looked back at Keith. "Listen, Keith. I just want to say—"
"HEY!" A different voice pierced the darkness.
Keith's scowl was back in an instant. "Go!" he barked at Lance.
Lance dove into the water.
Keith turned around to find the first mate bearing down on him. The first mate looked over the side to see the subsiding splash, then turned to Keith. "Boy, what have you done?" he growled.
Keith swallowed. "The mermaid wasn't a pet. He was a person. With thoughts, and feelings. He had a name."
"So the mermaid's a person? God, do you even hear yourself?" The first mate shook his head. "I'd say you deserve a whipping, but I don't even want to see your face on this ship anymore. I thought you'd fit in, but you never did. You're just trouble. You walk the plank at dawn, Boy."
Keith lifted his chin. "My name is Keith." Then the first mate's fist met his face.
Lance floated just below the surface, watching the ship. The sun was just starting to send rays through the water. His family had been overjoyed to see him, but they'd tried to stop him from returning to the ship. His friend Allura had tried to stop him, too.
"Nothing good can come from consorting with humans, Lance," she'd said. "They're not like us. All they do is invade our homes and try to trap us. What are you thinking?"
"Keith's different. I can't explain it, I just have to go."
"Then I'm going, too."
"Will you be ready early this morning? I know you need your beauty sleep," Lance teased.
"Don't patronize me, Lance."
But Lance had snuck away in the dead of night, alone. He didn't want Allura with him. She'd want him to explain himself, and this was something he couldn't explain. He had a bad feeling about what the crew might do to Keith, though he had no idea what he could do to help. If something did happen, he'd be helpless in the water.
Even if Keith was all right, Lance needed to see him again. He hadn't even thanked him for saving his life. So he waited, and thought of Keith's fleeting smile.
Movement. The ship was pulling up anchor. Maybe everything was okay after all. Lance's stomach clenched. Why was he disappointed? Unable to leave just yet, he swam beside the ship. This time he kept pace with it, careful to avoid the net dragging behind. Then he saw bubbles fanning out below the ship's hull. They'd tossed something off the other side. He stopped, waiting for the ship to pass so he could peer across the net and see what it was. As soon as the ship was clear he narrowed his eyes, trying to see what they'd thrown overboard. His heart stopped in his chest as he recognized the red jacket. It was Keith.
All of Lance's instincts urged him to dart over and grab him, but the blasted net was in the way. Getting caught again would do neither of them good. He waited, watching Keith's feeble kicks, feeling like he might explode. How long would the net stretch between them, deadly and nearly invisible? Keith stopped struggling and began to sink.
Screw this, Lance decided. He'd just have to hope to avoid the net. He dove down, knifing through the water towards Keith's sinking body. At last his hand grasped Keith's jacket and he began towing him to the surface.
They broke the surface, but Keith didn't move. A purpling bruise covered one closed eye. Looking at it, Lance felt a surge of anger. Careful to keep Keith's head above water, he began the swim to the nearest island.
Lance dragged Keith onto the island's shore, cursing his clumsiness. What if he hurt Keith somehow? A chill came over him. What if Keith didn't wake up at all? No, he'd gotten him to the surface in time. Right? To make things worse, he didn't have the slightest idea how to help. He wrestled with the knots binding Keith's wrists behind his back and threw the rope away in disgust.
"Why'd you do it?" Lance asked, studying Keith's face. "Why did you help me?" He gnawed his nails. It was a bad habit.
"Please wake up," he said to Keith. "Don't you want to scowl at me? I'm the idiot who got you into this. Come on, Man. Come on, Keith." He looked out at the breaking waves, unable to face Keith anymore.
A noise made Lance whip his head around. Keith had rolled onto his side and now he was vomiting up water. Lance watched Keith's back, eyes wide, as Keith coughed and sputtered.
Keith flopped back down, gasping, his bangs plastered to his forehead. His eyes found Lance. "Lance."
Lance's face broke into a grin. "It's about time."