Chapter Text
You’ve come ashore and walked among the humans countless times before, so this is not an oversight or mistake you would ever make. You’ve always been careful and made sure to switch hiding spots. Not to mention that they were good hiding spots. Places hard to reach, tucked away and hidden from prying eyes. You double check and triple check whenever you come and go from them. If people were to look up the definition of overcaution, they would find your picture there.
But as you scrabble among the slippery rocks with increasing franticness, you realise there’s no other way around it.
Your sealskin is gone.
You’re fucked.
Your name is Dirk Strider. You’re one of the last surviving selkies, if not the very last of your kind. You’re responsible, overly cautious to the point of bordering on paranoid, and somehow you’ve just lost your ticket back home. It’s an absolute nightmare, the worst case scenario, and such a dumb cliché. Admittedly deep down you might have fantasised about what it would be like to have your skin stolen, to have all choice taken from you and have an outside force change the course of your life, but to actually have it happen is another beast entirely.
Your idle fantasies didn’t go like this. For one, you imagined your skin would have been stolen by a handsome stranger, some dashing human guy who caught you changing and decided he very much liked what he saw. Right now the perpetrator is nowhere in sight and the rocks leave no tracks. You have no clue what happened or how anyone could have found your hiding spot.
You’re certain that the tiny alcove tucked into the cliffside is impossible to just stumble upon, it requires wading through a strong current of water and a small treacherous climb to get to. The tide doesn’t reach here so it couldn’t have been washed away by accident and all the animals in the area know you. Not even the cheekiest of seagulls would have dared take it.
All you can do is search.
Hours pass and you’ve combed the entire area for even just the hint of a clue. There’s nothing to be found. Not among the rocks of the cliffs, not in the waters nearby, and not on the sands of the beach. You’ve resigned yourself to sitting on the sand near the cliffs in the fading light of the sun, staring forlornly out at the sea before you. All the while trying to breathe through the anxiety that’s settled and made its home in your chest now that the initial panic has subsided to a restless hum underneath your skin.
You need a game plan. You don’t exactly have much in the way of human belongings, only the clothes on your back; a carefully curated collection from careless beachgoers. You’ve never needed actual belongings before. Fortunately you do know your way around and how to sneak into places. You’ve been moving among humans for years now. If need be, you can apply sticky fingers or maybe you could ask… no. That won’t do. There’s only one person you can turn to for help and you’re not sure your wounded pride can take it right now.
You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the sounds of something fast approaching until it’s too late. You hear it behind you, some quick shifting of sand as a weight barrels through, and before you can turn your head to look, the something collides hard with you. It knocks you flat to the ground with a totally dignified yelp, quickly scrambling to roll over and throw your hands up to defend yourself from your attacker as you feel them move over you.
Your fingers catch hold of soft- fur? Just as you’re trying to make sense of that, something warm and wet is dragged across your face and you realise that what you’re holding on to is a dog. A very enthusiastic dog. Greeting you as if you’re its long lost owner, finally returned from the war after years of tragic separation.
“Halley, NO!”
A loud voice cuts through the sounds of the overexcited huffs of breath being blown into your face while you desperately try to lean away from the dog’s persistent attempts to keep licking your face. Your efforts are made easier when two hands appear around the dog’s neck and haul it back off of you.
“Bad dog!!”
Without the dog attempting to crawl all over you and weighing you down, you can finally get your bearings better and actually have a look at both your exuberant furry assailant and your rescuer. The dog is a white shepherd or something of the like, its size leaving you unsurprised by how easily you were bowled over just now. Holding it back is presumably its owner, looking harrowed and flustered from what little you can glimpse of his face with him bowed over the dog, scolding it. Mostly you can only see a shock of dark hair until he looks up at you, startling green eyes meeting yours through a pair of spectacles.
… Well, there’s the handsome twenty-something stranger you’d been hoping to see earlier in the day. Better late than never, you suppose.
“Goodness gracious, my sincerest apologies! I don’t have the faintest clue what came over him, he normally never does this. Are you alright?”
You nod, a little dumbfounded, and take the hand he offers you to help pull you to your feet. He’s let go of the dog in order to do so and you eye it warily where it sits as you stand and brush the sand off your clothes. It wags its tail at you innocently.
“I’m fine. Just took me by surprise, is all.”
You say it as nonchalantly as possible, resisting the urge to step back when the dog gets up, only to seemingly lose all interest in you and wander off to go inspect something washed up on the beach. The stranger watches this and laughs before turning his attention back to you.
“I swear, that silly ol’ creature has the attention span of a gnat,” he says before he pauses, his blinding smile faltering a bit as he appears to hesitate. “Are you absolutely certain you’re alright?”
You have to wonder if maybe he can tell how starstruck you are or if the distress you’ve been experiencing for most of the day has left its mark on you somehow. You really hope not. You like to pride yourself on your ability to keep composure and stay unreadable.
“Yeah, man.” You answer with a shrug for added effect.
He doesn’t look convinced, looking you up and down with obvious skepticism.
“It’s just that… well, hardly anyone ever comes here.”
He glances from you to the cliffs around you and back again, brows furrowed in concern and that’s when it clicks. Right. You’d been sitting there in the sand like a sad sack, alone, in some remote part of the beach where people don’t usually come while night falls. That probably doesn’t paint the best picture. You think fast.
“I just arrived here today and I lost my bag when it fell during sightseeing,” you say, motioning to the top of the cliffs to indicate them. “It kind of had everything important in it, so I’ve been looking.”
Perhaps not the best lie, but people usually go for the lost backpacker routine. Especially because you lack the accent that the locals do. Just like your handsome stranger, actually. Hopefully that will make him more understanding of your imaginary plight.
It seems that way, given how his eyes widen before his expression twists into a sympathetic one.
“Oh! In that case you can’t say everything is peachy keen now, can you?”
He doesn’t ‘tut’ you and he appears to radiate genuine empathy, yet you still feel strangely chastised. The blank canvas of your face cracks as you offer the hint of a wry smile.
“Guess not,” you concede.
“Good thing you’ve just become acquainted to the best nose you possibly could! We can help you look,” he says, already turning to presumably call over the dog.
You hurriedly intervene.
“Oh no, that’s fine. I’ve already been looking all day. I’m afraid it’s been lost to the sea. No point in looking anymore.” You try to sound blasé in a way that makes it sound like someone pretending to be cool instead of being blasé because you’re lying out of your ass. At least it’s not a total lie. You did lose something very important. Just not your bag.
You’re not sure how successful you are when your words draw his gaze back to you, piercing green studying you for a moment. As expressive as he’d been just seconds ago, you have a hard time trying to read what’s on his mind now.
“Golly, that’s some real bad luck. Do you at least have a place to stay?” He asks at last.
You could lie some more. Tell him you do and send him on his way, have this interaction over with so you can go back to sulking in the sand until you inevitably have to swallow your pride and go ask for help from the only person you can turn to.
But you are so very tired and to utter one more lie suddenly feels like too much effort. A part of you would also like to keep this attractive guy around a little longer, savor his company while you can.
So you shake your head.
You watch the progression of emotions as his face falls, turns pensive, and then brightens again.
“Why don’t you come stay with me until you’re all sorted out then? I live nearby.”
You stare. You can’t help it, it’s such an absurd offer out of the blue. The guy doesn’t even know you and you don’t know him. Who the hell asks a perfect stranger to come stay with them in their house?
Something on your face must betray how incredulous you feel because he laughs before smiling sheepishly.
“I’ve done my fair bit of traveling around the world. I know getting stranded in a foreign country isn’t a good rollicking time and I promise you, I mean you no harm.”
“Well, I’m sold,” you deadpan. Which only amuses him more.
“You’ve already lost everything, no? It’s not like I can take anything else from you.”
“Other than my life? No, I suppose not,” you jest. Sort of. He doesn’t seem like the crazy serial killer type, but then normal people don’t just invite strangers over to stay with them either. “Besides, who’s to say I can be trusted? I could be robbin’ you blind the moment you turn your back.”
You feel it pertinent to point that out, even if it should be obvious.
He merely shrugs, looking way too unconcerned for your liking. Now you might feel a niggling of worry for the dude.
“Eh, I don’t think I have that much worth stealing and technically the place isn’t actually mine,” he says. “I have Halley to protect me and he seems to like you just fine. I don’t reckon anyone he takes a shine to can be that awful.”
You don’t know how to respond to that beyond dubiously glancing at the dog who’s currently occupying itself by harassing an unfortunate crab.
“So whaddya say? At least let me take you in for the night. I can’t possibly let a fine fella like yourself stay out here on your lonesome. Who knows who might snap you up?”
There’s an earnest insistence to his tone, but more importantly, is he flirting? Yes, he must be. Because he definitely just winked at you. Alright then.
He must be crazy.
And so must you be.
“Alright, fine. I’ll leave myself to your hospitable mercies,” you say with less reluctance than you ought to.
Accepting might be worth it alone for how he beams at you. He really is too damn gorgeous. If the reason he’s insisting on taking you in is because he’s expecting a certain something-something in return and that’s what the flirting is about then… well, you might be inclined to indulge him. Maybe. It would be far from the first time you’ve done anything of the like anyway.
You have your fun among the humans and then leave, return to the sea where you belong. You don’t linger, you don’t get attached, you move from coast to coast wherever the streams take you. Despite having plenty of spots you return to every now and then, you have no place on land and you don’t make yourself a fixture anywhere. No matter how well you blend in and adapt, by the end of the day you’re just not human.
The problem is that you currently can’t go home and you’re stuck looking like one. That complicates things and you don’t know how much you’re going to be in the mood for any shenanigans of the sexual kind. You can only hope he isn’t pushy about it or a serial killer after all.
“Capital! You have my word you won’t regret it,” he says with a winning smile, his apparent earnestness whittling away at your skepticism. “I’m Jake English, by the way.”
Again you take the hand he offers you to shake it, trying not to look into how his warm fingers linger against your wrist too much. Could just be your (possibly hopeful) imagination too.
“Dirk Strider,” you reply.
“C’mon then, Mr. Strider,” Jake says jokingly. “And I’ll show you to my humble abode.”
He’s already turning away and while he calls out to the dog, you take the opportunity to look out at the sea again. You feel it call to you like a hum in your veins and you know it’s a feeling that will only get worse the longer you’re on land. You’ll really have to think of a way to find your pelt before it becomes unbearable.
With a heavy heart you turn away from the soothing waves and move to follow Jake.
Jake’s ‘humble abode’ turns out to be the old lighthouse with its adjacent little home on the other side of the beach. The one you’d figured had been abandoned because you hadn’t seen anyone else near it before. It comes as kind of a relief to you. From here you’re as close to the sea as you could possibly be, the rhythm of the waves still audible when you step inside. It’s comforting. The interior of the home is designed to make it appear cozy yet spacious for its small size. White walls with plenty of windows create the illusion of more space where the wooden decorations and many plants everywhere give it a homely feel.
“Have you eaten anything yet?” Jake’s voice tugs your focus away from admiring your surroundings.
“No, not yet,” you reply, honest when you realise you’re feeling pretty famished after your panic-fueled searching all day and most of the evening.
“Oh, good. I could use some supper myself. Make yourself at home.”
Before you can offer to help — not that you could do much in the way of cooking anyway, it’s the thought that counts — he’s already moving away to a different room, making a dismissive motion over his shoulder. You’re left standing by the door, feeling unsure.
You have to question the wisdom behind your decision to accept his rather absurd offer. There’s still so much that could go wrong. Although when you consider the alternative of staying out all night in a form not made for withstanding the elements on its own to wait for morning until you eventually cave and go see your friend, you find yourself relenting again.
Having resigned yourself to your fate, you take off your boots and move out of the little entrance hall area to settle yourself in what looks to be the living room, plopping down on the couch.
Halley immediately decides to join you, jumping up on the couch to lie down with his head in your lap. He’s looking up at you with expectant eyes.
You hesitate a few seconds before setting your hand down on his head and tentatively stroking his fur. You don’t consider yourself a dog person. Or any certain-type-of-animal person for that matter. Seems kind of silly when you’re a seal most of the time. You get along fine with wild animals, can communicate with them to a certain extent even, but pets are a different story. Like all animals, they seem to know inherently that you’re Other — not human, not animal — but most of the time they don’t know what to make of you. It makes them wary and cautious of your presence.
Halley apparently didn’t get that memo.
Not that you mind overly much at the moment. There’s something soothing about running your fingers through his fur and feeling the warm weight of his head in your lap. You let it ground you as you look around you, taking in the details of the room while you listen to Jake puttering around in the kitchen. The first thing your eyes are drawn to are the pictures on the wall.
They’re of an elderly woman and a boy through various years. It doesn’t take much deductive reasoning to figure out that the boy is Jake and the woman likely his grandmother. You think you might recognize her from your previous visits to this area, but you’re not entirely sure. It makes you want to get up and take a closer look. You might have done so if you weren’t anchored to the spot by Halley and not very inclined to dislodge him when you’re both comfortable.
Instead you turn your attention to the entertainment system that Jake has. It’s pretty impressive. The huge TV and the big speakers are almost cinema-like. So much for not having anything worth stealing. Tech has always fascinated you and you know a thing or two about it. What Jake has here is worth a lot. Although he did say this place wasn’t his, so maybe it belongs to his grandmother and he doesn’t care because they’re… rich? Maybe?
Hell if you know. The situation you’ve found yourself in remains bizarre.
You try not to think about it too much lest the anxiety lurking in your gut creeps back up on you again, opting to zone out for a moment as you pet a stranger’s dog. You get the distinct impression that Halley quite possibly knows the state you’re in and that’s why he decided to grace you with his warm, fluffy presence.
“Golly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him warm up to someone that fast,” Jake speaks up as he re-enters the room, carrying two bowls.
Suspicion confirmed, you think. And you also wonder how long you’ve been spacing out for Jake to already be done preparing food for the both of you.
As if on cue, Halley jumps off the couch to curl up by your feet instead while Jake joins you, leaving your lap free for the bowl he hands you.
“I heated up some scrumptious tomato soup. There’s more if you want seconds,” he says graciously.
“Thank you.”
You’re hungry enough that you don’t waste any time being suspicious of what he’s so generously given you. You just dig in without further delay.
He seems amused by that and he doesn’t speak until you’ve both had a few spoonfuls of soup.
“Did you really lose everything important with that bag?” Jake asks.
“Yeah,” you lie smoothly. “Passport, cell phone, wallet, spare clothes. The whole nine yards. It’s my own fault, really. Should have checked in to a hotel and dropped my stuff there first before gallivanting off to explore.”
You almost feel bad for lying with the way he looks at you with earnest sympathy and concern. You remind yourself you’re not too far off from the truth. Your skin is your everything and you lost it like an idiot. Somehow.
“Is there anyone you want to call?” He asks, already retrieving his cell phone from his pocket.
You shake your head, not even pausing to consider it or think up another lie.
“No, I’m traveling on my own and I don’t really have anyone to call.”
It’s a truth that you figure is only going to make you sound suspicious, but when you glance over at him you’re surprised by the sad understanding in his eyes. He simply nods and tucks his phone away again, ignoring it when it buzzes in his pocket. His attention is solely on you.
“Try not to worry that pretty head of yours for now,” he says, smile returning.
The picture of eloquence and grace that you are in the face of a handsome man calling you pretty, you blink owlishly and say nothing.
“Leave the worries for tomorrow. Care to watch a movie while we eat?”
Huh. That’s not what you were expecting. You were thinking he might get more solicitous or he would start asking you questions about where you’re from, your family, etc. But no, he’s merely inviting you to watch a movie with him.
“Sure,” you agree easily and you feel even more thrown off when he smiles brightly as if you just told him he won the lottery.
He turns on the TV eagerly, selecting some generic action movie from his Netflix queue that you consent to and starts playing it without fuss.
You think this might turn awkward fast, yet it doesn’t. While you eat, he comments on the movie and by the time your bowls are empty, you both have something of a running commentary going between you. Apparently he’s really, really into movies. Good thing you know your pop culture. You’ve snuck into plenty of movie theatres and have made generous use of whatever entertainment systems your hook-ups had available.
Sitting here with him, watching a movie, is strangely comfortable.
By the end of it, you somehow feel more at ease despite the fact that you’re technically in a shitton of trouble. Jake is pleasant company and the movie along with his commentary has successfully distracted you from your worries. He might have done it on purpose, you figure.
You catch yourself staring when he rises to his feet and stretches himself out, shirt riding up and showing a peek of bare skin. You hastily look away before he turns towards you.
“That was a jolly good time! I suppose we should call it in for the night. You’re welcome to take the couch, but I have a spare bedroom you can use upstairs, too. Whichever you like,” he says jovially.
The tiny part of you that was half-expecting to be invited to his bed is both relieved and disappointed simultaneously. You ignore it staunchly as you consider the options. A proper bed could be nice while you’re stuck in this form, but the couch is on the ground floor and close to the front door, providing a very easy escape should you need it.
The choice is obvious.
“The couch is fine, really,” you say casually, trying to pass it off as a show of humility.
He smiles in a way that leaves you thinking he’s not fooled one bit; a hint of knowing in his eyes. Possibly he caught how you snuck a glance at the door while you deliberated. Either way, you’re quickly figuring out that he’s a lot sharper than he lets on with his weird old-fashioned way of talking and his cheery demeanor. It intrigues you more than it maybe should.
“Alrighty then, let me fetch you a blanket and some appropriate sleepwear. Be back in a sec!”
Before you can even think to question or object to whatever ‘appropriate sleepwear’ is, he’s already swiftly moving away like a man on a mission. You let him go and listen to his footsteps disappear up the stairs.
You’re left alone with a dozing Halley by your feet, the silence more pronounced without Jake’s presence in the room and with the TV turned off, providing no more distractions. Like this, you can faintly hear the waves outside. The push and pull are as familiar as your own heartbeat. When you close your eyes, you can almost pretend you’re in the safe embrace of salt water.
You’re so engrossed in picturing it, mentally trying to soothe the restlessness thrumming underneath your skin through sheer force of will and imagination, that you don’t notice the sound of something shifting and you’re startled out of your futile efforts by a nudge to your knee. You glance down to see that it’s Halley having pressed his nose against your knee as he stares up at you with big, brown eyes again.
You stare back.
“You’re a weird one, aren’t you?” You say eventually when nothing seems to give.
Halley lazily wags his tail back and forth and then goes still again. Unsure of what else to do, you reach over and scratch him behind one ear. That at least gets him to close his eyes and stop staring. You really don’t know what to make of his behaviour towards you, it’s so unusual.
Neither does Jake, apparently, because when he steps back into the room, pillow and a blanket awkwardly tucked under one arm and a set of clothes under the other, he stops and tilts his head at the sight of you both.
“Huh,” he says, clearly perplexed. “He’s certainly taken with you, isn’t he.”
“I don’t know why. I’m not much of a dog person,” you admit, honestly.
Jake raises an eyebrow at you, amused and somewhat skeptical of your claim as you scratch Halley’s ear. You just shrug helplessly in response.
He shakes his head in what’s maybe private amusement or fondness and continues his way over to you.
“C’mon, you cad. Time for bed.”
It’s all that’s needed to get Halley to pull away from you, the words prompting him to move to the corner of the room to settle down on the big cushion there.
“Here you go,” Jake says, making you tear your eyes away from watching Halley spin circles on the spot before lying down for some baffling reason that’s beyond you.
Dogs are strange is the conclusion you draw.
You’re handed a black T-shirt with a skull logo on it that you vaguely recognize from some popular company and some sweatpants after he’s set down the pillow and blanket on one side of the couch.
“They might be a tad small on you, but I reckon it’s better than nothing,” he tells you with a… yep, there it is again. A wink. It goes well with the flirtatious quirk of his lips.
“Thanks,” you reply, keeping it short and simple so you don’t do something stupid like ask if the clothes really are better than nothing if he catches your drift. As tempting as it is to press and get into those flirty nudges to see how serious Jake might be, you don’t want to do anything to jeopardize the fact that you’ve been given a roof over your head for the night.
There’s no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth or push your luck.
Jake has been nothing but gracious and he continues to be as he explains where the bathroom is before he bids you good night and then leaves to go upstairs.
You wait a moment, listening to him move around in the halls above you, and then you change and turn off the lights. The shirt isn’t too bad, it’s kind of loose on you because he has a broader built, and the sweatpants show off more ankle than they should, but they’re not uncomfortably tight.
It’s more than a little strange to be sitting here in a stranger’s house, wearing their clothes and breathing in what must be Jake’s laundry detergent of choice. A part of you is still waiting for the other coin to drop.
It doesn’t.
As you sit there, the creaking upstairs eventually stops and you’re left with only distant ocean sounds and Halley’s breathing. Jake seems to be genuine with his intentions. Although he’s kind of an enigma, not really having talked about himself either, you suppose it’s only fair when he’s refrained from asking you any personal questions which you appreciate.
So far he’s only prioritized your comfort without asking anything in return and it’s… nice. Really nice.
Still, you can’t stay here. It’s in your best interest to go back to where you belong as soon as possible. It’s why you resolve to face the music and go get some help in the morning, your pride be damned.
Sliding under the blanket and settling down, you surrender yourself to a night of fitful rest, listening to the sea beckon you home.