12
B y the time Blake and Marin had finished up at Water Zone and stopped by the local Walmart to pick up some essentials for the merman, it was nearing midnight.
Blake all but collapsed onto the sleeper couch the moment they got back to the apartment, propping his laptop up on his knees to conduct some more research on Splashgrounds Manufacturing. Marin settled down beside him.
Splashgrounds Manufacturing had turned out to be a quick search—it was a defunct company in South San Francisco that made slides and playground equipment for water parks.
Having narrowed down their region of interest to the Bay Area, Blake attempted to look up any relevant information on the surname “Marin” in the surrounding cities, but had yet to absorb any of the results Google produced.
His mind was crawling with mermaid hunters, the conditions of the pygmalion spell, the upcoming deadline, and the man sitting on the sofa beside him.
Blake tried not to stare over at Marin—he was sure that he’d been sneaking glances at him the entire evening, if only to make sure he was all right.
It wasn’t like there was anything dangerous in the apartment (other than the bathroom, which was not up to code), but he couldn’t help but be more wary of Marin’s wellbeing than ever.
The merman was absorbed in sketching on the iPad, oblivious of Blake’s plight, the tip of his tongue pinched between his teeth in concentration.
From what Blake could ascertain, Marin was unbothered about the information that had been conveyed to him earlier that day.
Either transformation complications, budding romantic feelings, and black-market flesh sales were no more of a threat to him than merging behind a semi-truck, or Marin was uncannily talented at hiding his own discomfort.
“Everything okay?” Marin asked without preamble, still gazing down at his drawing.
“Yeah.” Blake nodded, forcing his eyes back to his screen. He scanned the search results he’d called up earlier—most of what he’d been able to produce had been about Marin County. With a sigh, he closed his laptop.
“No,” he admitted.
Marin smirked knowingly, setting the tablet aside. “Wanna talk?” he asked.
“I wanted to know how you’re doing,” Blake replied. “I feel like we haven’t really gotten to touch base in the last twenty-four hours.”
“I won’t lie and say that I’m not a little overwhelmed,” Marin told him, bringing his knees to his chest and tipping back his head. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I’ve been remembering so much so fast that it feels like it’s impossible to catch up with my thoughts. But…”
He paused, tenderness gentling his thoughtful expression. “I had a lot of fun with you today, if that’s not weird to say?”
Blake was a little shocked, if touched. “I’m surprised you aren’t more concerned about the fin hunters.”
Marin shook his head. “It shouldn’t be a problem so long as I’m careful not to reveal myself.”
“I’m… I’m really happy you had fun,” Blake said, reaching out to lay a hand over Marin’s knee. Marin smiled and covered the back of Blake’s hand with his palm, brushing his thumb over the rough skin there.
“You’re fun to be around,” Marin told him. “I enjoy being in your presence, even if we’re just working next to each other quietly. That’s something I really appreciate in a friend… and in a partner.”
Blake flushed, but his eyes fell upon the posterboard lying face-down on the table in front of them. The poem formed in his mind, written in Celeste’s clean and elegant handwriting: these four days you have to prove your heart.
“I don’t—and please don’t take this as a rejection,” Blake added quickly, “But I don’t want you to feel any pressure to pursue anything romantic with me. It’s… the ethics of this entire situation have been bothering me.”
“Because of the third condition?” Marin asked. “That you have to ‘prove that you’re worthy of my love’.”
“Yes. I don’t want you to feel like I’m your only choice, just because I’m the one that woke you up,” Blake admitted with a nod. “And I don’t want you to think that you’re obligated to be in a relationship in order to keep living.”
Blake took a moment to restructure his thoughts. “Love doesn’t have to be romantic. It… it can be platonic. If you’d be happier loving me as a friend, please don’t neglect that option. I want you to be able to choose. That’s… so, so important to me.”
Marin smiled, affection coloring his expression as he gave Blake’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to be so open about all of this. I appreciate your honesty. But…”
Marin drew Blake’s hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over his knuckles. Blake was shocked by the intimate depths of the gesture and his breath hitched in his throat, heart pattering a tattoo into his chest.
“I like spending time with you, Blake,” Marin said, eyes glowing with fondness.
“I’m more than willing to see how this relationship develops.
I’m not worried about ethics. I might have just met you, but I can already tell that you’re a straightforward and trustworthy person.
I’m confident that you wouldn’t take advantage or hurt me.
I know the circumstances are unusual, to say the least,” he added with a chuckle.
“And that I’ve only known you for a day, but I enjoy the time we’ve spent together so far. ”
“I’ve enjoyed it, too,” Blake told him, reaching out to caress a loose tress of Marin’s hair; he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the silkiness as a distraction.
“I… I like being around you, too, Marin,” he admitted in a low rumble, too shy to meet Marin’s eyes.
However, in the corner of his vision, he saw Marin’s mouth slope up into a sweet smile.
“C-can I take you out again? After the library tomorrow.” Blake quickly changed the subject, pleased but overwhelmed with how the conversation had progressed.
His heart was still attempting to beat its way out of his ribcage.
He released Marin’s hair, squeezing the merman’s fingers with the hand that Marin was still petting with his thumb.
“There’s somewhere I wanted to take you.
I know that you wanted to go back to the studio to finish your sculpture, but I was reminded of something earlier today that I think you’ll like and I really wanted to show it to you. ”
“I’d enjoy that,” Marin said, lowering his lashes as he nodded his assent. “It’s a date.”
?
Blake had never had the pleasure of getting ready for bed with another person before. There was something warm and domestic about standing next to Marin in the bathroom, mouth full of toothpaste foam as the merman fastidiously combed through his long, silky hair.
“Would you mind braiding it again?” Marin requested with a sheepish grin, holding a hank of hair up to Blake. “You did a great job earlier and it stayed all day—I think it might be annoying if I braid it over to one side.”
Blake leaned over the sink to spit out his mouthful of toothpaste before agreeing. “Sure thing—you can go on ahead and get changed.”
Marin smiled, content, and left the bathroom. Blake scrambled into his pajamas before awkwardly idling outside of his bedroom door.
It felt a tad silly to give Marin such privacy, especially since it was nothing worse than changing at the gym or with a roommate. Not to mention, he’d seen everything the merman had to offer the other night in the pool.
However, Blake’s heart was already rushing at the prospect of sharing the bed with Marin again—and since he was much less exhausted than the night before, he had plenty of time and brain power to overthink things.
Moments later, he found Marin sitting on the edge of the mattress. He was resting his chin upon his folded arms and knees, staring up at the thumbnail-thin sliver of the moon peering down through the window.
“Can’t see it too well from out here in the city,” Blake began, easing down next to him. He tucked a lock of Marin’s hair behind his ear, surprised when the merman leaned into the gesture.
“I can see so much more than I ever did tacked on the front of that boat,” he told Blake. “Even if the city lights drown it out, it’s still more sky than I ever could have hoped to see before.”
Blake combed his fingers through Marin’s hair, methodically beginning to separate it into equal parts to weave into a proper braid.
Once he was completed, Marin curled up in the corner of the bed against the wall with a content sigh.
Shit , Blake thought, the throb of his heart catching in his chest. Would it be wrong of me to assume he wants to share again? I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.
“Hey uh,” he began with a small cough. “Did you want me in here with you, or…? I mean, I don’t want you to feel obligated if that would be too weird.”
To his surprise, Marin worked his mouth into a disappointed moue, rolling over to face him. “We already shared the bed last night, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, but…” Blake flushed. “Those were kind of extenuating circumstances, yeah?”
“Yes, but I don’t mind sharing with you. And it’s best to settle down where you’re most comfortable to ensure a good night’s sleep, right?” Marin continued.
“Right…” Blake agreed, turning the merman’s argument over in his mind. His main worry was that he would cause Marin discomfort, but he was clear in communicating that wasn’t the case.
Also, last night had been the best night of sleep Blake had gotten in… longer than he really cared to admit. Blake always slept better when he was beside someone, and Marin’s presence was beyond reassuring.
“And personally, I found you comfortable to sleep beside,” Marin went on, appearing to find something very interesting outside of the apartment window. Despite his attempts to conceal it, Blake was able to catch the small, hopeful smile in Marin’s reflection.
Blake’s gentlemanly intentions crumbled—they weren’t winning this one.
“Okay,” he assented, and found that—despite himself—his smile was as warm as it was defeated. He joined Marin down on the mattress, plugging in his phone and clicking off the lamp on the floor.
“Goodnight,” Marin said. Blake felt his words against the nape of his neck, puffed out in a warm, steady breath.
“‘Night,” Blake returned with a small shiver, shrugging deeper into his sheets. He winced, rolling over to face Marin. “I—real quick, I should probably let you know: I have insomnia, so chances are I’m going to be tossing and turning for a few hours before finally settling in. I don’t know if that’s something that’s going to bother you. ”
“It’s fine,” Marin reached up to play with a loose, brown wave of Blake’s hair splayed out over his pillow. Blake leaned into the sensation without thinking, soothed by the comforting action.
He closed his eyes as Marin reached up to caress another hank of hair on his scalp, pulling his fingers through it. He sunk the nails of his other hand into Blake’s side cut, dragging them over the stubble. The pressure on Blake’s scalp sent pleasant little shivers up his neck.
Despite himself, Blake began to ramble, suddenly very conscious of Marin’s proximity: “I got pneumonia my senior year of college—I didn’t sleep almost the entire time that I was sick.
I got better after a few weeks, but the insomnia stayed.
Stuff I used to be able to shut off at night just keeps going.
It’s like the voice in my head doesn’t know how to shut up.
“Thankfully it’s not every night, now,” he said. “But sometimes I lay awake all night. Thinking. It doesn’t matter how tired my body or mind is. I can be dead on my feet and I can’t shut off.”
“What have you tried for it?” Marin inquired, continuing to pull and stroke Blake’s hair.
“Uhm…” Blake tried to conjure up the thoughts, but his mind was getting a little waterlogged. He closed his eyes in an effort to focus. “Guided meditation, ASMR… uh… audiobooks…?”
“Audiobooks?”
“They’re like… recordings of people reading books? I think they called them books on tape back in the day.”
“Ah okay. Anything else?” Marin asked. His voice was damp in Blake’s ear.
He could feel the warm puff of his breath on the helix.
Blake’s eyes fluttered open and he sucked in a sharp inhalation.
He hadn’t realized that Marin had pulled himself right up next to his chest, their eyes level.
The streetlamp outside had lightened Marin’s black eyes into a glowing grey.
He snaked his fingers up in the back of Blake’s wavy tresses.
“W-what?” Blake shook his head, forgetting what had been asked of him. Marin smiled, his gaze sweet and soft as he continued to stroke Blake’s hair.
“Does anything else help you sleep?” he repeated.
“Ah.” Blake swallowed, finding that his throat was suddenly dry. He exclaimed when Marin tugged his hair. The other, more licentious, methods he’d attempted to alleviate his insomnia flew through his mind. “I…”
“Well,” Marin whispered, releasing Blake’s hair and pulling back to his side of the bed. His eyes flicked up and down Blake’s chest. “I’m sure you thought of something.”
“Yeah,” Blake said, voice coming out more of a wheeze.
“You’re cute when you’re at a loss for words,” Marin whispered, reaching up over Blake’s shoulder, rubbing a cool hand over his nape, thumb kneading into a tender knot before he wound his arms around Blake, petting up and down his spine. “I like making you flustered.”
“I—” Blake groaned appreciatively. He relaxed into his pillow, mind following the hypnotic trance of Marin’s hand running over his back. “I like it when you fluster me,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Marin laughed, voice deep and sonorous.
“I know,” he said, lips brushing over Blake’s forehead. “Now go to sleep, sweet boy.”
Although he was distracted by Marin’s proximity and touch, the long day weighed heavily on Blake, dragging him down into restfulness.
His thoughts scattered in the wake of Marin’s touch, replaced instead by pleasant nonsense images that ran across his mind.
Blake was overtaken by leisurely, foolish, and pleasurable sensations that he lacked the words to describe.
Somewhere in the distance, he was aware of a gentle song being sung under someone’s breath.