#inspired by the lovely naila’s valewis mermaid lewis fic ofc

[milflewis]

i'd love to hear your thoughts on surfer!mick encountering mermaid!lewis (can you tell i can't stop thinking about that photo)

1. “I’ve been looking for you,” Mick says, and the mermaid looks over his shoulder, spotting him. He doesn’t move from his perch on the rocks so Mick paddles closer.

“Not in a weird way,” Mick quickly follows up with, floundering. “Just — over the years. I’ve kept an eye out. Normally. Casual. Just to see if I saw you again. Yeah.”

He winces. That could’ve come out better.

The end of the mermaid’s tail is draped into the water and the scales Mick can see are a dark purple, shiny and slick like oil in the sun. They run up his stomach, fading strangely into skin at his waist. Mick is too far to see the details of his tattoos.

Normally, Mick knows from school, they can reach up past the middle of the ribs but he must have human in him somewhere for them to be so low.

“You saved my life once.” Mick clears his throat, tightening his fingers around his board. He pulls one leg up under him. His throat is dry.

He loves the sea, always has, even when he is scared of it. Maybe especially then.

He had known better than to go surfing when it was that choppy, with winds that high, even at that age, but he had just gotten that new board and ignored every voice in his head that told him no.

He had been sure he was going to die there, coughing and cold and wet, too dark and swirling to tell where was up or where was down.

“It was a while ago,” Mick says. “You might not remember.”

“You were shorter.” The mermaid’s voice is soft, softer that Mick expected, and his teeth are sharp.

“Well,” Mick shrugs, cheeks heating. “I was thirteen so.”

He remembers how his nails dug into Mick’s shoulders, how he pulled and pulled and pulled until Mick could feel sand on his knees and pushed at his chest until Mick choked, bone sore and shaking. His eyes were very bright in the dark when Mick looked at him. Mick remembered how he looked right back.

He’s looking at Mick right now.

“I remember,” he says, and smiles. He’s very pretty actually. Mick is helpless not to smile back.

“I wanted to say thank you, for that, so, um, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the mermaid replies and Mick gets the faint feeling he’s laughing at him.

2. “Woah, man, is that, like, fish?”

Lewis pokes at smoked salmon on top of the cracker Mick gave him, face unreadable. The sun is setting behind him and the loose off white beach coverup that Mick stole from Gina’s room is slipping off one shoulder. The whole effect is slightly devastating to Mick’s insides. It might even be giving him indigestion.

He looks at the fish, and then at Lewis’s face, just barely frowning, not quite a grimace, and back at the fish before it clicks. Oh god.

“Oh, god,” he says out loud. “Can you — I didn’t even think to ask, I’m so sorry. Can you even eat fish? I mean, do you eat fish because, you know —“

Lewis pulls a face, mouth pulling up, one eye squinting. He peers sheepishly at Mick. He looks like he might try eating it anyway. This is definitely giving Mick stomach problems. He’s ruined everything.

Lewis gently puts down the cracker, exhaling. It’s almost a sigh. “Fish are friends,” he says, quiet. “Not food.”

Mick closes his eyes. He’s so fucking stupid. He planned this entire thing out — getting the time right with the sunset and the weather and the lack of people on their corner of the beach and — And. And.

“I love Finding Nemo,” he states calmly. Lewis grins at him, all seriousness come from his face. Mick hates him.

“Such a classic, right?”

“You know, Hamilton,” Mick says, butterflies melting away. “You’re a bit of a dickhead, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Nope!” Lewis says, popping a grape into his mouth, eyes crinkling. Mick flicks some crumbs at him with his fingers.

3. Mick goes very still as he lifts a hand, palm first. A raindrop falls in the centre of it, light and warm.

He doesn’t bother saying just one moment to Sebastian, taking three long running steps to shove Lewis off the edge of the pier and into the sea.

When Lewis’s head pops up out of the water, eyelashes dark and curls flat, he’s laughing. The rain isn’t quite a lash but it’s not a drizzle either. It’s water whatever way you spin it.

“Really?” Lewis says, grinning. His pearl necklace matches the ones in his ears. Mick picked up a bracelet that he thinks would look nice with it at one of the stalls at the market in town a few days ago.

There’s a shiver of deep purple shimmering below where Lewis’s legs should be if you squint.

“Yes, really,” Mick replies, shifting so Sebastian can’t see his face. He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. Lewis rolls his eyes.

“Huh.” Sebastian comes up beside him, his sensible sandals quiet on the stone pier. He pauses to lick messily at his ice cream cone. “I thought it is just salt water that activates your tail. Does regular rain water do it too?”

Mick stares at him, and then at Lewis when he says, “Nah, it’s just salt water. Has to be from the sea too. Mickie here is just being overly cautious.”

“Overly cautious?! What if someone saw —“

Mermaids are rare enough and nearly every part of them is worth a lot of money. They’ve been an endangered species as long as Mick can remember.

Sebastian hums, solemn. “So serious, our Mick.”

“So sorry for being concerned,” Mick declares, throwing his hands up in the air because he knows it’ll make Lewis laugh. It does. Mick, very seriously, ignores the amused look Sebastian sends him.

4. “Wait,” Mick says, a while after. He and Sebastian are sat side by side now, feet dangling in the water, cool against their calves. Strands of Lewis’s hair tickle Mick’s leg whenever he floats too close.

“How did you know Lewis was a mermaid? I never told you.”

He looks quickly at Lewis to make sure he knows that. Lewis’s mouth tilts up at one side and he doesn’t say anything. Mick curls his toes and uncurls them.

“I didn’t either,” Lewis says, looking up at Sebastian. He wraps a wet hand around Mick’s ankle, thumb brushing along his instep.

Sebastian shrugs, face flat and still in that way that he does right before he’s about to tell a joke that he is particularly proud of. His mouth is twitching.

“Ah, you know,” he starts, shrugging. “The smell of fish is very strong around him, yes?”

He catches hold of Mick’s t-shirt when Lewis pulls Sebastian in by the foot, dragging both of them down. Mick swallows a dreadful amount of sea water, laughing and then choking. Lewis’s hands are cold and soft on his elbows when he pulls him back up to the surface.

5. Lewis’s shoulders are bare and broad as he arches in the air, whole body twisting and tucking as he dives back into the water. Show off.

Mick reaches out a hand and Lewis swims closer, humming. It’s still too early for other surfers to be out, sun not yet risen, tide in and calm.

Mick lies his chest flat on his board, one arm folded under his chin, the other still outstretched. Lewis’s curls are damp at the edges and loose around his face. Mick tucks one behind his ear when he gets close enough.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he says, and Lewis only raises is eyebrows.

“Have you?”

“Yes,” and when Mick kisses him, he tastes of salt and his lips are cold but his tongue is warm and everything is wet. He realises if he holds Lewis’s chin in one hand, fingers on his cheek, he can feel how the lines around Lewis’s mouth deepen when he smiles.