Work Text:
He met Red—the mute merman—by sheer chance when trying to navigate his way around the Lost Cave. Green doesn’t exactly recall how he found the cave, only that he’d mistakenly drifted off-course on his small rowboat while trying to collect water samples off the coast of Resort Gorgeous.
In hindsight, taking a rowboat was extremely foolish and dangerous given how unpredictable the ocean currents could be. But back then, Green felt like he didn’t have much choice, given how the resort developers shot down all attempts by the local wards from pursuing any kind of data collection on the surrounding waters.
It was Red that pulled his rowboat to safety, and would later offer to help gather evidence of the myriad of ways Resort Gorgeous trampled over the lowest bar of environmental regulations set in the Sevii Islands.
Fast forward a couple harrowing months of fighting to drive Resort Gorgeous off of Five Island while keeping Red a secret from the resort developers and Team Rocket—
Now, the very same merman who rescued him, is his one and only partner.
They’re figuring out how to make this bipedal-and-fishman relationship work, but it’s okay for the most part. For one, there isn’t the constant threat of corporate police scouring the area to capture Red now. They can take it slow, like working on building their sign language repertoire and exploring the option of Red staying on land, with Green, on a semi-permanent basis.
Which brings them to the present.
Red had always been able to transform to appear “human”—that is, to have legs instead of a fish tail for a bottom. With more practice, he’s become more adept at holding the form; so far, the record has been approximately three days.
This increased scope in transformation has allowed Red to spend more time with Green, which theoretically should be a blessing, but has been proving itself to be a double-edged sword for the young researcher for one prominent reason:
Red has been extremely, extremely distracting.
As if making up for the months of fleeting touches in-between their close shaves with danger, the merman has been taking every opportunity to latch onto Green, having complete disregard for the concept of personal space.
It doesn’t help that on his magicked legs, Red stands a head taller than Green. Tall enough that the merman looms a little over his human partner, chin resting on Green’s head whilst the young researcher tries his best to get through the tasks of the day, whether it be cooking breakfast for two, doing the laundry, or, as of this moment, trying to make some actual progress writing his report on the sediment samples he had collected from last week.
Key word: trying.
The reality is—
—the reality is, it’s nigh impossible to focus on a single train of thought when Red has him tucked under his chin and his back flush against the merman’s chest (observational note 213: his boyfriend has a very well-toned build and defined muscles). To make it worse (better, the traitorous part of his mind supplies), Red has been gently mapping his body with his hands, as if he means to memorize every nook and cranny of his being. Green isn’t really ticklish, per se, but it’s hard not to be hyper-aware of the fact that he can feel Red’s affections for him bleed through his touches, from the way his fingers carefully trail down his sides and then back up to trace gentle circles underside his wrists. The knowledge itself makes Green feel like there’s cotton between his ears.
In short, trying to keep his mind focused on doing his job while his boyfriend caresses him in a way that makes him feel like human putty, is turning out to be a Herculean task. All things considered, Green is kind of impressed that he's managed to type a paragraph since he started roughly an hour ago.
“Red—”
Fuck, Green bites down an undignified yelp as the merman’s hands trail down to his calves. Paying no heed to Green’s cut-off whimpers, Red begins to massage the muscle that had cramped up during yesterday’s dive. Very perceptive of him, but also, not helping.
“Red,” Green grits out between clenched teeth, “I can’t work like this”. When his partner makes no move to stop, Green slaps at his hands.
“I’m serious, I’m gonna be behind on my work.”
After what seems like a millennia stretched between the seconds, Red stops his ministrations.
‘Your hands are free’, the merman signs. ‘You can work.’
Green feels his eyebrow twitch. Eight months ago he might have let that go, but the Green of today knows that Red likes to purposely act obtuse to get what he wants.
Instead, he snaps, “Yes, my hands are free, but I can’t focus when you’re drawing the Mona Lisa over my entire body!”
‘M-O-N-A L-I-S-A?’
Green bristles— the audacity of this grown fishman pretending he didn’t know the painting when they saw it at the art exhibit a couple weeks past—
A puff of air brushes against the back of his neck. Green doesn’t have to turn around to know that the merman is sporting an amused expression, likely finding it funny how Green reacts to every little thing.
Still, Red eventually detaches himself from the young researcher, much to Green’s relief.
Just as the young researcher is about to mutter a quiet ‘thank you’ and proceed with his work, Red tugs at his hand.
“What now?”
Another insistent tug—Green sighs. Whatever this was, Red most likely wouldn’t let him continue working until he was completely satisfied with whatever he needed. Trying to school his expression into something neutral, Green turns around to face his partner.
“Okay, you have me.”
Red blinks. Then, slowly, he signs:
‘You’re always working.’
“I’m at the final stage of my thesis. You know I have a lot of work to do.” The end of his sentence trails off into something akin to a petulant whine.
‘……..’
Red frowns slightly.
‘Sleeping little doesn’t help.’
With this, he thumbs the bags under Green’s eyes.
‘Coffee five times a day.’
“Okay, so maybe I have been working a little overtime.”
‘A little?’
The corner of Red’s lips twitch with silent laughter.
Green refuses to deign him with an answer, letting his indignant glare fill the silence. His stare is unyielding when the merman raises his hand again, but this time, flattening the furrowed lines between Green’s brows with a finger. Breath caught in his throat as Red traces a path around his eyes, down the bridge of his nose, then over his eyelids—Green’s eyes flutter closed, his mind chasing after the sparks on his skin. Leans into the touch, a pleased hum under his breath as Red starts to trail his lips along the same path, his head held carefully between two strong hands (that would never let him go), mouthing along the line of his jaw before finally resting at the corner of his lips; when Red finally leans back, Green can’t help the blush that spreads across his face like wildfire—he’d expected a kiss.
Easy, he thinks to himself, he’s so terribly easy when it comes to Red—but it’s hard to keep up his shoddy attempt at appearing annoyed, with Red knowing exactly how to wind him down, working his way past Green’s walls with warm eyes and deft fingers. It’s come to a point where Green’s not sure whether he’ll ever be able to fathom being in another relationship, outside of the one he has with Red; the mere thought of it makes him feel nauseated.
I’m ruined, the young researcher laments to himself.
And with that, he lets himself go completely.
Red lets out a surprised whoosh of air when Green slumps against him, leaning his forehead against the merman’s chest to hide his flush.
“...wake me up in an hour, then,” Green mumbles. His voice is muffled against the fabric of Red’s shirt, and a part of him wonders if his partner had heard him—
—and Red, his overgrown merman of a soulmate, assures him that he has, tracing I have you into his back.