The scales itch. There is no way around it. And while the rock is warm, it's still a rock, and Soul is positive that it's screwing up his spine, no matter how Maka spun it.
If he even has a spine now.
He is pretty sure he does, having semi-confirmed it while stoking the curve in Maka's back as she curls up next to him on the stony beach. The moon shines overhead, round and silvery. He can just make out the gentle slope of her nose, her smushed cheek pressed up against his shoulder.
He misses his bed, but this was better.
Mostly better.
He's still learning to hold his breath, unused to long periods under the water. It makes him nervous, his human instincts stubbornly clinging to the vestiges of who he was. Every morning, as the mothers and the little ones watched on the beach, he and Maka practice, breathing deep, filling his new lungs and diving under the water. The little ones, months old, wiggle out of their mother's arms and join him in the water, their fat little arms churning the water around Soul, popping up for air less often than he does.
Soul sighs, squirming and then wincing as the hard rock dug into his skin. The place where his right knee used to be itches like crazy, he almost scratched his scales down to the nub until Maka commanded him to stop.
His own anatomy completely foreign.
But he's heart and spirit in a way he never was before.
Before Maka.
At least his black scales look cool.
"Are you ok?" Maka whispers. Her warm breath tickles his neck and he pulls her closer, pretending to sleep.
"Soul." It's her I want to talk voice, one he's grown familiar with the last few weeks.
Soul grunts in reply.
"I know you're not sleeping," she says, poking him in the cheek.
Night is the only time for privacy, sleeping on the rock like a platform, raised above the others. Being surrounded by merpeople on an outdoor beach doesn't provide much one on one time. He would be fine with the imposed insomnia if it weren't for the interrogation.
It's always the same, wanting to know about his life before: His hobbies (piano, he told her, and she begged to hear him play until he reminded her of the lack of instruments in the ocean, and she sobered up quickly), his family (a brother in the Bureau, two parents perpetually vacationing in Italy), his job (he casually skips over the parts where he's put several trolls and a few fairies under arrest), and past relationships (pffffffft).
"What, Maka," he sighs dramatically. If she's going to pester him with more questions, he's not going to make it easy on her.
"Are you ok?" she asks, a little more timidly. "Being here?"
Here? With her?
Absolutely.
He made a choice. Even if he had another choice, another chance, he'd choose the one that landed him right there, on that rock, with Maka in his arms.
But maybe without the itchy scales.
"Of course I'm alright," he says, holding her tighter.
She regards him suspiciously. "Really?"
"Yeah," Soul smirks. "Can't have this badass tail back at the Bureau." Itchy, itchy tail.
She smacks his chest with the flat of her palm and he laughs. Her hand remains on his chest has his chuckles fade, pressing into his skin. Maka stares at her hand, her fingers tap in time with his heart beat (he knows he still has a heart, which is comforting).
"There's been talk," Maka begins hesitantly.
Soul waits. A breeze stirs her hair, her bangs shift with the wind. He smooths her hair down on her forehead, and places a gentle kiss there before she continues.
"The elders are talking about leaving, moving somewhere warmer," Maka explains. "Where it'll be safer. H-he might try and find us again."
It takes her a moment to control her breathing. Soul holds her, while surreptitiously glancing around in barely contained paranoia.
"How soon can we leave?"
Maka lifts herself onto her elbows and stares down at Soul. "Really?"
Soul blinks. "Yeah? I mean, we have to keep you and the squad safe, right? When can we leave?"
Maka stays quietly after a moment, staring down at him with her green cow eyes, glittering like her scales in the setting sun.
"Ok," she says, heaving herself up to sit. "Let's go." She slides off their rock, landing carefully on the soft sand. Soul watches her, amused because main mermaid (merperson, he mentally corrects himself) mode of movement out of the water involves a lot of inelegant wiggling.
"We're migrating now?" Soul asks, bemused.
"Nope," she replies, with a pop on the "p."
He gapes as she crawls across the sand, her scales smooth and blend into pale skin.
Maka crosses the sand until she reaches the copse of trees protecting the mermaids from view. She's a little unstable, tripping until she reaches one of the farthest trees and leans back against it, her legs stretched out in front of her. Long, bare legs, pale in the moonlight.
Mouth dry, eyes trailing up her smooth skin, Soul asks, "You can do that?"
Maka nods once.
"You never showed this to Ox," he accuses.
"Ox was an ass," Maka glowers. "And there were no windows in the lab. I couldn't tell if it was day or night."
Soul glances up at the moon, the phantom itch on his knee back in full force.
"Can I... do that?"
She hesitates, then nods again, slowly.
Soul rolls onto his stomach, and lowers himself off of their rock. He drags himself a few feet, but his tail and scales remain in tact.
"How-?" he begins, bewildered. He pauses as he glances at Maka, who is watching him intently.
Her gaze is intense, Soul feels exposed, as if he was the one completely bare, scales dropped away, instead of her.
Maka opens her arms to him and cocks her head. "Just come."
He obeys, as natural and easy as his knees sinking into the sand under his weight. He reaches her feet and he kisses the top of one of them. He moves his lips over her shin, knee, and up her thigh, tasting her skin with little flicks of his tongue. Maka squirms and sighs, her legs falling open on their own accord. Before Soul can truly appreciate the lovely, wet, newly exposed Maka, she takes two fist fulls of his hair and drags him up to her mouth, sucking on his bottom lip and holding him there. He moans, and presses his tongue against hers.
It's not the first time they've kissed, and if Soul gets his way it won't be the last, but it's the first time they've kissed like this, with desperation, with every inch of his skin possible sliding across hers. In the back of his very clouded head, he surmises that merpeople reproduce like humans do, partially because he can feel himself growing hard against her thigh. Soul briefly wonders, as his hands wander up to Maka's soft soft breasts if merpeople experience the same soul igniting pleasure.
He doesn't have time to test his hypothesis, because she slows them, gently kissing his lips before resting her forehead against his and smiling up at him through her eyelashes.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey," he mimics, and leans down to kiss her again. She allows him a couple more pecks before pushing him off her, both of them shivering from the sudden loss of heat.
"Time to go," she announces, skipping off deeper into the trees.
"Why," Soul whines. He hears himself and acknowledges that he sounds like a toddler being denied a sweet, but he doesn't care. He drags himself after her. "Can't we just stay here and make out?"
"We've got stuff to do," she replies, kneeling at the base of a tree with a large boulder at the base. She grunts as she shoves it aside and pulls out a bag from underneath the tree's exposed roots. Soul watches in mild surprise as she tosses a pair of pants and a plain white shirt at him.
"What?" she asks, pulling on a skirt and frilly pink top.
Soul gestures up her long legs. "No panties?"
"Don't need them," she replies smartly, sticking her tongue out at him.
He gets dressed slowly, keenly aware of her eyes glued to the lines that go from his hips down to his groin. Maka makes a small noise of disappointment as his skin disappears under denim and cotton.
"This was your idea," Soul reminds her.
She blushes from the roots of her hair all the way down her neck, and holds out her hand for him to take. "Let's go."
"Where? Ah, wait." He bends forward a little and digs his fingernails into his right knee, sighing as sweet relief floods his system.
They hike through the trees for what feels like hours, his now unfamiliar legs unused to the strain after weeks fused as a tail. Maka laughs as he tests his muscles, and helps Soul up after he occasionally squats and falls.
Towards the end of what feel like hour five, Maka sprints up ahead of him excitedly, disappearing between the trees. Soul stumbles out behind her, his hand on his knees and he struggles to catch his breath.
Maka laughs at him, but places her hand on his back, rubbing until he finally straightens and looks around.
Pavement. Electrical lights. Cars.
They're back in town.
"Did we just come down a wormhole?" Soul sputters.
Maka snorts. "No. We're going on a date."
She half drags him a few more blocks into town, where the streets are crowded with grinning locals and confused tourists. She assures him that they'll be lost in the herd but Soul is still dazed, torn between scooping Maka up and high-tailing back to the ocean where they'd both be safe and kneeling on the asphalt to kiss the solid, familiar ground. He can't focus on the rom-com Maka's giggling at because there are people with them in the theater that may or may not have seen his picture on the local news, reporting his theft of government property.
Also, because he's a merman with his mermaid girlfriend at the movies, without an ocean for miles away at least, with butter on his fingers and salt on his tongue. He's not even sure where Maka conjured the money from, she kept pulling bill after bill out of her pockets and paid for their tickets and snacks.
But Maka's laughing, open mouth crammed with gummy worms, and he can't himself to bring her out of the happy spell.
When the movie is over, Maka skips as they leave, Soul's hand clutched in hers. She leads him through the town, occasionally pausing to admire shiny baubles displayed in the windows.
She doesn't need to lead him.
Soul grew up in the town, he knows every inch of it.
Or, at least, he thought it he did.
Soul tugs Maka through the throngs of people, towards a narrow alley.
"What are you-?" She narrows her eyes, confused, but then they slide closed as Soul presses her against the hard brick wall and covers her mouth with his. The tension in her shoulders melts away, and Soul tightens his hold when he realizes.
Her shaking knees as she shows him how to walk across the sand.
Her manic laughter at the theaters.
Her bone crushing grip on his hand.
Maka was afraid.
As Soul's hand slides into Maka's hair, she fists the front of his shirt more firmly, securing herself to him further. He only stops when he feels wet on his cheeks, and pulls back.
"Woah, hey," Soul say. "Don't-don't do that."
"You can go back," she sniffs. "You were born human; you can go back whenever you want. You can stay."
Soul blinks. "Why would I want that?"
"You grew up here. Human," she says weakly. "You should be with other humans."
"Are you kicking me out?" he demands.
"No, no!" Maka quickly composes herself, steely determination replaces despair. "I'm giving you your choices back."
"I made my choice," Soul insists.
"You saved me and- and I took you away from your family, from your home-," she pauses to angrily swipe stray tears from her face. "You deserve better."
"I'm staying with you."
"But-"
"Shut up," Soul says calmly, putting his hands on her shoulders. She clamps her hands down on his, squeezing, as if she was hoping to keep him trapped in her grip.
There was no need.
"I'm staying with you," he says, leaning down to capture her mouth with his. It's so different than the desperate breath she gave him while trying to save his life. It's relief and comfort he feels as he moves his lips softly against hers. It's peace.
Until Maka pulls away violently and slaps his arm.
"That's him," she gasps, staring out of the alley way and into the crowded street. "It's the man who trapped me in the t-tub. It's him."