Chapter Text
“I read in a story once that a mermaid’s kiss can save a human from drowning.”
Hermes had not believed in merpeople since he was about seven years old, when he still had hopes and dreams and the starry-eyed gaze of a child with an overactive imagination. But the reality of life had crashed down upon him when his mother died, and his slow ascent into adulthood had been tainted with monotony and depression, leading to what Hermes described as a highly unsatisfying existence. He was not meant for this world. A nine to five, Monday to Friday job for the next forty or so years of his life sounded like his own personal hell, which was partly why he’d decided to try a new career path in a bid to spruce things up.
That choice had brought him here, knelt before the large indoor tank inside the lab of the marine biology research facility that sat atop a cliff overlooking the ocean, staring at a real, living merman.
“You read a lot of cutesy mermaid stories, Yaro?”
“It wasn’t a cutesy story, man. Shut up.”
Hermes’ eyes flicked to his colleagues standing just behind him in the reflection of the glass tank, Yaro and Jesse, who fell into their usual round of squabbling, and he subtly shook his head with incredulity. The indisputable existence of merpeople had just been presented to them and all they could do was bicker with each other.
How were neither of them utterly awestruck to silence?
The creature in the tank before them was unconscious, having been heavily sedated shortly after its capture at sea so that it could be safely transported, lying at the bottom of the admittedly small aquarium receptacle. Small for a creature that was used to swimming the ocean, at least.
The long tresses of white hair fanned out over its head, hiding its countenance from view; he had yet to examine the creature’s face, though Hermes presumed it would be as enthralling as the rest of its body.
Its skin was a bluish-gray and looked extremely smooth, so alien to what Hermes was used to seeing in humans. Its chest was like that of a man, pectoral muscles and nipples seemingly correctly in place, but the first sign of dissimilarity was the lack of a belly button. The skin there was simply flat and even, which made sense if these creatures hatched out of eggs.
The blue-gray skin of its abdomen gradually changed into the sleek scales that made up its tail, a mismatched pattern of mottled dark blues and greens that almost appeared inky black. It was only under the harsh laboratory lights that the true colour shift could be seen in its lower half.
The end of the tail divided into large, translucent fins that had a green tint to them and likely lent themselves to making the creature a powerful, fast swimmer. Not fast enough to escape the netting it had been lured into, however.
“This thing is going to make us rich,” Anders, the team leader and boss of the operation, smugly concluded as the four of them all took in the sight of their prize.
Hermes had to sign an NDA when he took this job, and now he understood precisely why. If the world knew that merpeople were real, it would cause quite a lot of disorder within the world of marine biology.
A thousand questions whirled around Hermes’ mind, his natural inclination to learn about the creature before him practically overwhelming his senses. He wanted to know everything about this merman and how its people lived below the ocean; the mere notion of interacting with this creature and pursuing such coveted knowledge filled Hermes with a sense of purpose he had lacked for so long, a drive to do something that excited him.
“We’ll let it sleep off the sedation. Once it wakes, we can begin monitoring its behaviour. I want someone in here at all times, so one of you will take night shift,” Anders stated, his gaze flitting to Hermes with the last few words. It was all but decided already given Hermes’ history of insomnia and jumbled sleeping patterns in general. He gave a silent nod of understanding for the role he was expected to play, not at all opposed to spending quiet night shifts studying the merman.
The creature regained consciousness slowly; it began with twitches and sluggish movements, the tail moving across the bottom of the tank as it curled its body in confusion and apprehension, keeping its head down when it began pawing at the smooth floor with its clawed, webbed fingers. It was no doubt trying to understand where it was, prodding and poking against the unnaturally smooth floor with flourishing anxiety if its increasingly jagged, sharp movements were anything to go by.
Hermes watched as it lifted its head slightly before promptly lowering it again, throwing an arm over its face in apparent discomfort. Its long white hair helped to shroud its face from view while it awkwardly shimmied around the bottom of the tank in search of answers.
As its strength began to return, it swam forward for only two seconds before hitting one glass wall of the tank; for a brief moment, Hermes caught a glimpse of the creature’s face. Its eyes were shut tight, brow furrowed as it patted its palms against the thick glass wall, inquisitively at first before trepidation set in as it knocked its fists against it.
It covered its closed eyes with one arm again and swam the length of the wall, tracing the glass with its free hand, and reached the second wall with a start. It sped up, swimming faster as it continued, mapping each of the four walls that surrounded it before it darted upwards to the surface and met the metal grating that sat a foot above the water, keeping it contained to the tank.
It realised it was trapped, meeting boundaries in every direction, and its panic multiplied. Suddenly it swam with renewed vigour, fully recovered from its sedation, and rammed itself bodily into the glass. When it failed to escape its containment through sheer force, it tried again, and again.
“We need to sedate it again, it’s going to hurt itself,” Hermes exclaimed, already breaking into a jog in the direction of the tranquiliser gun stowed in a compartment by the tank, but Anders stopped him.
“No. It hurts itself, it learns not to do it again. If we sedate it, we’ll have the same problem the next time it wakes up,” the boss told him.
Hermes wanted to protest, looking back to the merman driving itself fruitlessly back and forth into the hard, thickened glass in its desperate bid for freedom. The poor creature was terrified. If Hermes woke up in a new environment with no idea where or why he’d been taken, he would react the same way.
“It’ll exhaust itself eventually when it realises there’s no point,” Jesse pointed out, “might take a while though. I’m getting lunch.”
Hermes hid his disgust for his colleague’s apathy, returning to his spectating position as he reluctantly did nothing to keep the creature from repeatedly slamming itself into the walls of its enclosure. He merely hoped it would not sustain injury.
It took a long time for the merman to see the futility in its venture. The creature was determined, Hermes had to admit, which made it all the more dispiriting when he spotted the signs of exhaustion the merman was displaying. It grew sluggish as it threw itself at the glass, slowly losing strength - Hermes could hear the rumble of the glass become less and less noisy as it went on. Its sloppy attempts exhibited weakness, and after far too long, the merman simply laid itself down at the bottom of the tank, and wrapped itself in its long, coiled tail.
It pressed its face into the inky dark scales. Never once had the merman opened its eyes throughout its frantic escape attempts, and Hermes had slowly begun to understand why.
As it approached nine o’clock at night, the boss, Yaro and Jesse clocked out for the day, leaving Hermes alone with the creature for his first night shift. He’d already spent the whole afternoon and evening in the lab of his own accord, not wishing to leave when the freshly caught merman was stewing in its despair, but Hermes hadn’t expected he would’ve gotten much sleep if he’d tried.
He stood by the tank, watching the creature who hadn’t moved since it lost hope and sunk to the bottom of its enclosure, and lifted a hand to knock on the glass.
The merman startled and darted away from the vibrations, swimming with tightly shut eyes into the opposite glass wall with a thunk of his head against it. Hermes retracted his hand guiltily; he hadn’t meant to frighten the creature, and he certainly hadn’t tapped the glass that hard, but the merman was on edge, and the knock probably sounded louder inside the tank.
Hermes crossed the lab, wishing to test his hypothesis about the merman’s eyes. He dug through a chest of scuba gear and produced a diving glow stick designed to give off faint, green luminosity.
A light source that was much easier on the eyes of a creature who lived in the sunless depths of the ocean, perhaps.
Hermes crossed the room again and shut down the bright, white overhead lights of the laboratory via the control panel, plunging the room into complete darkness. The glow stick was for Hermes’ own benefit, and he switched it on and used its dim glow to find his way back to the large tank.
All Hermes could see as he returned to his viewing spot was the reflection of the green glow emanating from the low light source in his hand.
If he was correct in his theory that the creature could not stand the intense laboratory lights and had to constantly cover its eyes to keep from experiencing the blinding agony inflicting upon its sensitive vision, then that would mean it could probably open its eyes comfortably now.
Hermes swallowed, feeling inexplicably unnerved for some reason.
A flicker of movement drew his gaze and Hermes leaned in slightly, staring into the dark abyss of the glass tank with intense focus. The glow stick left him unable to see anything except its reflection, so he turned it off.
His heart all but jumped out of his throat and he fell back on his ass when he came face to face with two glowing green eyes, piercing into his very soul right on the other side of the glass.
Hermes inhaled sharply as those eyes followed him as he fell, and he learned his assumption was correct. In complete darkness, this merman could see him. Hermes was the first person to be perceived by this creature of the depths, and that fact probably should’ve unsettled him in some way, but instead he felt excitement trickling through him.
He knelt before the tank, watching as those eyes did not once unpin from him, and stared back in awe. He lifted his hand tentatively, and the eyes shifted to his palm, burning into it with curiosity or hatred - Hermes did not know - as he pressed his hand to the glass.
The eyes shifted to his face, then back to his hand, and then again to Hermes’ face, and he wished for the opportunity to be able to communicate with this creature, to express above all else that he meant it no harm, that they were only keeping it here so they could study it.
Slowly, those green eyes blinked, and Hermes was spellbound by the mesmerising sight of that same green gleam spreading rapidly across the merman’s body.
It began with its face. The glow of green illuminated fins either side of the creature's head where its ears would have been, if it was human, and spread in a series of patterned dots and swirls down its chest towards its tail. The tail, the most magnificent part of the merman, became alight with bioluminescence, unveiling the creature in its entirety within the inky black abyss of the tank.
Hermes had to remember to breathe when the merman’s webbed hands shone with its dazzling green light and the creature lifted its palm, pressing it to the glass, right over Hermes’ own hand.
His lips parted in wonder and he smiled at the creature, unable to contain his mirth at the gesture; its face did not shift from the persisting, concentrated glower despite the acknowledging press of its hand to his, but Hermes could not blame the merman. It was scared, after all.
”We aren’t going to hurt you,” Hermes whispered, though he knew it could not hear him, but the movement of his lips caused the creature to tilt its head, “we just want to study you. We’ll release you eventually.”
Its lingering green stare scrutinised his face and body, halting on his legs for a long time, which triggered Hermes’ amusement; it made all too much sense for the merman to be curious about his legs. It seemed they were both inquisitive creatures; in this serene moment, it almost felt like he had some sort of connection with the merman.
Suddenly, the creature reeled back and slammed its fist into the glass beneath Hermes’ palm, which he retracted in fright, taking a few cautionary steps back. All hints of a smile fell from his face as he realised he had misinterpreted the moment - this creature held nothing but contempt for him. For all it knew, Hermes was the one who had imprisoned it.
It technically wasn’t wrong.
The creature spent the rest of the long night taking in its surroundings now that the harsh lights weren’t blinding it, and Hermes left it alone, writing his initial report on the other side of the lab.
When morning came, Hermes’ colleagues entered the room and flipped the lights on, promptly sending the creature, who had been coiled up in the middle of a slumber, into a frenzy. It hid its face once again, thrashing in its affliction.
“Turn the lights off!” Hermes yelled as he rose from his desk, blinking blearily at the men, “The lights hurt its eyes.”
Anders eyeballed the creature for a moment before scoffing, “We need to be able to see what we’re doing. It’ll acclimate.”
Hermes wasn’t so sure the creature would acclimate; its natural environment was pitch blackness illuminated only occasionally by the dim glow of its own bioluminescence. It was effectively blinded whenever the lights were on, and its eyelids were not thick enough to blot out the burning light.
An idea occurred when Hermes later tucked himself into bed within his on-sight accommodation. When he’d accepted the job and packed up his suitcase, effectively moving into the research facility for the length of his employment, he’d brought along an eye mask for the times he would have to sleep during daylight hours, but had found upon arrival that his room did not have a window, thus making it redundant. It was a nifty blackout mask that blocked out all light no matter how bright, and it would definitely serve the merman better.
When Hermes awoke from his disconnected slumber many hours later, he had downtime to spare, and although the urge to return to the lab to see how the creature was doing was rife within him, Hermes instead stopped by the gym and spent an hour running on a treadmill - something that always helped him get his thoughts in order.
His shift began at nine o’clock that night, but he arrived a little bit early, sleep mask in hand, and walked into a disconcerting scene.
The creature was strapped to a white table in the testing area with sturdy restraints around its chest, wrists, hips and several points along its long tail, holding it in place with little to no wiggle room. A towel had been haphazardly thrown over its head and it seemed mostly motionless aside from the rise and fall of its chest.
Hermes moved closer, spotting that the gills along its neck had closed up, seemingly allowing for it to comfortably breathe oxygen.
“How long has it been out of the water?” Hermes inquired. At the sound of his voice, the creature’s towel-covered head tilted in his direction.
“About three hours. We ran some tests, x-rayed its tail, and drew blood. Did you know this thing has blue blood? Like an octopus, it’s got hemocyanin, copper-based blood. Cool, huh?” Yaro informed, sounding riveted by all he had learned.
“And the towel?” Hermes asked, but he feared he already knew the answer.
“It wouldn’t stop shrieking until we shielded its eyes,” Jesse answered, sounding agitated, “bloody annoying noise, I’ll tell you that. Went on for an hour.”
Hermes' jaw clenched, “Because the light hurts its eyes, I told you that this morning,” he ground out, aggravated that his colleagues had not seeked a preliminary solution. They let the creature suffer for an hour before doing anything to help.
Jesse shrugged dismissively and Hermes scoffed.
“Was it much trouble getting it out of the tank?” Hermes wondered. It was only a matter of minutes before Yaro and Jesse’s shifts ended, so the burden of putting the creature back in its enclosure was probably going to fall on Hermes, and he needed to know how temperamental the creature would be with the transition.
“We gave it a low dose of tranquiliser. Enough to calm it down but not knock it out completely, we wanted it awake,” Jesse revealed, “so I’d suggest sedating it again to put it back. It still didn’t make things easy for us even while zonked out on drugs.”
“Right…” Hermes sighed, begrudging how liberal they’d been with the sedatives.
Anders had been quiet at his desk since Hermes had walked in, assessing something on his computer screen, but he rose up when the clock struck nine o’clock, and addressed Hermes, “I take it you’ve got it from here?”
Hermes wanted to see if he could return the creature to its tank without having to fill its body with pacifying drugs, so he nodded determinedly, “Yeah. Leave it to me.”
The three of them left, and Hermes peered down at the merman, taking the time to examine it up close now that it was right in front of him. Its skin looked too dry, and there were pin prick marks on the inside of its arm where one of his colleagues had drawn its blood for testing. Hermes lifted a hand and lightly traced his fingers over the mark, prompting a flinch from the merman.
“I’m sorry,” Hermes said gently, though it did not understand, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve brought you a blackout blindfold to protect your eyes,” he explained conversationally, talking to it like he would to a fellow human.
It did not speak his language, but perhaps it could infer from Hermes’ tone of voice that he did not mean any harm.
Hermes moved quickly, removing the towel from its face, and it immediately shut its eyes tightly and let out a cry. Its voice was deep and full of anguish, so Hermes promptly pressed the mask down over its head, shifting it into position over the creature's eyes while making sure it did not interfere with the fins either side of its head.
It stopped crying out, holding still in its state of confusion, trying to deduce what the purpose of the object on its face was for, but Hermes already knew this creature was smart, he believed it would figure it out quickly.
“This’ll make it easier for you when we need the lights on,” Hermes explained, and then left the table for a few moments to grab his glow stick and hit the lights, darkening the room to the degree that was comfortable for the merman, and returned to its side to lift the blindfold up its forehead, revealing eyes that hesitantly blinked open, uncovering its milky green gaze that landed on him immediately, “There, you see? You don’t need it right now, but it’s there when you do.” Hermes gave the creature a reassuring smile.
“Now, I gotta get you back into that tank over there,” Hermes began, motioning a hand towards the enclosure, “but I’m gonna need you to cooperate, because I really don’t want to sedate you again. Do you think you can help me out here?” His question lingered in the air and Hermes hoped his body language was enough to convince the creature.
Its unblinking stare should have unnerved him, but Hermes found its eyes too captivating to be fearful; he raised his hands to the restraints around one of the creature’s wrists and began undoing it, “I’m just unlocking this now. And then I’ll put you back in the water, okay? I probably should’ve introduced myself already, my name is Hermes, and I’m one of the researchers studying you-“
The moment the restraint opened, the creature swiped at him with its clawed fingers, catching Hermes across the face and causing him to stagger back with a shout. Tears sprung to his eyes from the harsh stinging that emerged on his cheek, and he felt warmth dripping down the side of his face; Hermes touched his fingers to his face, wincing as pain blossomed from the scratch and his fingers came away smeared with blood.
Hermes grit his teeth, looking dejectedly down at the merman, who continued to hiss at him in warning. He sighed regretfully, and reached for the tranquiliser, and the creature tensed, lifting its palm flat towards Hermes as if to say stop.
A frightened noise left the back of the creature’s throat and its eyes widened, that glowing green hue somehow filled with imploring dread; its body trembled, hand shaking as it tried to wriggle free of its bonds.
It was so afraid. In its fear, the creature looked almost human.
Hermes swallowed tightly, putting the tranquiliser back down. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t forcefully knock the creature out every time they needed to move it or test with it - they needed to gain some semblance of trust from it if they wanted to learn from it.
“I’m sorry. I won’t use it, I promise,” Hermes soothed it, and the creature visibly relaxed when Hermes put down the sedative gun, its eyes darting from the tranquiliser to Hermes’ face searchingly.
Hermes slowly approached, ignoring the feeling of his blood trickling down the side of his face, and tentatively reached for the merman’s hand. It flinched when his fingers brushed its knuckles and kept unnaturally still, waiting and observing, until Hermes’ hand wrapped around that of the creature’s.
“I know you’re scared. I would be too, but I truly mean you no harm,” Hermes murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over the creature’s knuckles in a pacifying gesture, “so please, just let me help you back into the tank. I think you’re starting to dry out,” he let out a soft giggle, and the merman’s penetrating gaze locked with his eyes.
Hermes took a slow breath, and reached for the restraint on its other wrist. This time, the merman remained completely still, allowing Hermes to undo all its bindings without trouble.
“I’m going to lift you now,” Hermes explained, and the creature appeared alarmed but he slipped an arm around its shoulders and another under its tail, and lifted.
“Oof, you’re heavier than you look,” Hermes chuckled softly, placing the creature in the padded transport trolley. Despite its thin, lean upper body, the mass of its tail held a lot of weight, but Hermes just about managed, grinning at the merman as he followed the light of his glowstick over to the elevator platform, which raised them up to be level with the top of the tank.
Hermes opened the hatch on the metal grating and lifted the creature once again, lowering it slowly into the water. Its tail flopped a bit almost, throwing Hermes off balance, but he safely deposited the merman back into the tank.
A sigh of relief left Hermes' lips, and he closed the hatch, electing to simply climb down the ladder at the side of the tank, reaching the ground again. He was once again met with the unfortunate problem of not being able to see the merman while his glow stick was turned on, and took only a few minutes to figure out a solution.
He dove back into the scuba chest and retrieved four more glow sticks; he lit and dropped them through the meta grating atop the tank in each of the four corners, lighting up the enclosure with the gentle, dim light. Perfect.
Now, when he looked in on the creature, he could see it more easily. It poked around the glow sticks curiously, but left them alone after a short while, electing the coil itself up in the middle of the tank in its preferred sleeping position.
Hermes noticed then that there were a few dead fish piled in one corner of the tank, and he frowned, wondering why the creature had not eaten the food his colleagues had provided for it. It could have been feeling sick perhaps - all that worry and fear probably left it unable to stomach anything. But if it was going to survive, it needed to eat.
Hermes entered the lab the next day at the start of his shift, and felt only apprehension when he spotted the ever growing pile of dead fish in the corner of the creature’s tank.
“Is he still not eating?” Hermes asked with concern, and Yaro responded with exasperation.
“Every time we throw them in, it sniffs at them and then smacks them away. We even tried different kinds of fish. Its got a whole buffet in there and it’s refusing to eat.”
“Damn,” Hermes sighed, “maybe… maybe we’ve got the wrong idea about its diet?” He suggested, and Anders passed him before halting in step.
“What happened to your face?” Anders snorted at the sight of the tender cut across Hermes’ cheek, and the man in question cleared his throat sheepishly.
“He scratched me. But I don’t hold it against him. He was scared,” Hermes answered.
“You didn’t drug it?” Anders looked at him like he was a fool.
“I wanted its trust,” Hermes simply replied, and Anders huffed in amusement.
“Suit yourself.”
After his colleagues left and Hermes was alone in the lab, he darkened the room for the creature’s comfort and watched with pity as he milled around his enclosure sluggishly, glaring at the pile of dead fish like they were an insult to him.
Perhaps the creature had very specific tastes, maybe he preferred crustaceans over vertebrates, or maybe he was a fancy merman who only ate caviar.
What if… what if the creature was a vegetarian? What if he ate seaweed and nothing else? There were so many uncertainties with harbouring a creature that the world had no idea even existed, and one big problem was that they couldn’t just google the dietary requirements of a supposed mythical being.
On second thought, the notion that this creature was a vegetarian was quite silly. Hermes had read the reports his colleagues had made while running some tests on the merman the day before, citing that it had a set of very sharp looking teeth. It had to eat fish with teeth like those, but then why was he so disgusted by what had been thrown into his tank?
So disgusted, in fact, that the merman insisted on putting all the dead fish in a pile in the far corner of its enclosure.
A potential answer popped into Hermes' head partway into his shift that night as he watched the merman nap, and he made the decision to pop out of the lab in search of his next solution. Being a research facility for marine life, the building housed many tanks featuring a variety of ocean-dwelling fish, and Hermes was certain his boss wouldn’t object to him pinching a few fishes if it meant feeding their very important test subject.
He returned half an hour later with a bucket that contained a few tuna fish and a mackerel, finding that the merman had not strayed from its sleeping position.
Hermes climbed up to the top platform and lifted open the hatch, the slight groan of the metal rousing the creature within, and he dumped the contents of the bucket into the tank. Three live tuna and a mackerel.
Almost instantaneously, the merman darted across the tank and clamped his jaws down around one of the tuna, tearing through its flesh and bones as he chomped it down, making the water cloudy with the red blood of the fish.
He chased down the other two tuna as well, before hunting the mackerel, and Hermes watched him with a grin, feeling an abundance of relief to see the merman actually eating. Hermes prepared to close the hatch of the metal grating, but he froze when the creature’s head breached the surface of the water.
The merman stared up at him, blinking luminous eyes, and Hermes grinned at him, greeting the creature with a lighthearted, quiet tone, “Hi there. I’m glad you enjoyed your meal. We’re all a bit dim-witted, sorry it took us so long to realise what you eat. I’ll be sure to let the others know, and I’ll focus on removing those dead fish in the bottom of your tank - they’re probably very smelly, huh? Wait, can you smell underwater? How does that work with your nose-“
The merman lifted his webbed hand out of the water and Hermes flinched reflexively, but froze when the clawed hand settled gently against his cheek, pressing over the wound the merman had inflicted yesterday.
The saltwater residue on the merman’s palm caused the tender cut to sting a bit, but Hermes dared not move, for fear any sudden motion would cause the creature to startle.
They looked into each other's eyes, and even without words, Hermes understood what was happening.
Sorry for the scratch. Thank you for the fish.
“You’re welcome,” Hermes whispered softly, and the merman sank back down into the water.
“It likes you.”
Hermes grew flustered by Anders’ statement when he entered the dimly lit lab at the start of his shift that night. He wondered what had prompted the assertion, before peering over at the tank to find the merman pressed against the glass, staring right at him. He let out a little laugh, giving the creature a wave, and cleared his throat as he looked back at his boss, “Well, I’ve got his dinner here. That’s probably it.” He gestured to the bucket full of tuna fish in his hand.
“You’ve gained it’s trust,” Anders spoke again matter-of-factly, crossing his arms as he regarded Hermes with a pointed look.
Hermes wasn’t entirely sure he had gained the creature’s trust just yet. The merman was certainly still wary of him, but he had treated the creature more kindly than his colleagues, so it was only natural for the creature to gravitate more towards him.
”I’ve been trying to,” Hermes answered, “but it’s a work in progress.”
“This could benefit us greatly. If that thing trusts us, we’ll be able to carry out more thorough research without it fighting back. I want you to try and interact more with it, see if you can figure out a way to communicate. If we can socialise the creature, even better,” Anders directed, rubbing his hands together as he thought of all the ways he could make money off the merman.
“Communicate with it?” Hermes thought it was a tall order. He wasn’t sure the merman could even speak aloud, and the only experience he had teaching the English language to another was when his little brother, Dionysus, was a toddler, and Hermes had taught him to say little words, including a few curse words.
Nevertheless, he agreed to the challenge.
For the next three nights, Hermes brought the merman his meals, and then sat himself down in front of the hatch, and tried his best to communicate with the creature.
“You know, funny story, I used to be a delivery man. Drove around all day in my delivery van, delivering packages and letters all day long. Now I know what you’re thinking: how and why does one go from being a delivery man to being a researcher in a marine biology facility? Well it’s simple, delivering packages was boring, and I actually did get a degree in marine biology when I was younger, I just never pursued the career. Why did I get a degree in marine biology? Well I have this uncle, his name’s Poseidon, and he’s a marine biology professor at an esteemed university. I didn’t get my degree from that university, but he’s the reason I had a drive to study it to begin with. He used to talk all the time about the ocean,” Hermes chattered at the creature who did not have a single clue what he was saying for the entirety of the time he was prattling on, but the merman listened to him speak, and his eyes flitted over Hermes’ face like it held some interest in what he was saying.
So, Hermes just kept talking. He told the merman everything about himself; he talked about his mother and how she had died when he was young, he talked about his father who was a serial adulterer and was the primary reason Hermes had more half-siblings than he knew what to do with, and he told the merman about each and every one of his brothers and sisters, occasionally dropping another fish into the tank for the creature to snack on.
“I get on best with Apollo and Dionysus, I guess. But even then, we don’t talk much. I went no-contact with my father years ago and I’ve only seen Apollo and Dion a handful of times in the past five years. We live pretty far away from each other so it’s not super easy for us to hang out,” Hermes sighed, peering briefly into the middle-distance as he thought about his brothers, “we’ve all got issues, you know. I blame our father for that. My whole life, I’ve just felt like nothing is right. Like things are supposed to be different, but nothing ever changes… It's why I took this job. I wanted change, you know?”
He sighed, stewing in his despondency, and looked back down at the merman who was still dutifully listening with an impressively blank face.
Hermes smiled at him, “And I got change, because I didn’t ever think I’d be sitting face to face with a handsome merman. Up until a few days ago, you only existed in storybooks and movies, and here you are, winning a staring contest with me.” He winked at the merman, who tilted its head inquisitively at the gesture.
“Oh, that’s something people do when they’re being cheeky or making a joke,” Hermes explained, “or if they’re flirting. But don’t worry- I wasn’t! I wasn’t flirting. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair.
Hermes cleared his throat as the merman blinked at him, “Say, I’ve been talking a lot about myself. What about you? Do you have any family? Any annoying siblings or absent parents? Do you- does your kind even travel in packs, or are you a lone wolf?” He stared at the merman, waiting for a response that never came, and sighed.
“I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this. I don’t know how to teach someone a whole language they’ve never heard,” Hermes murmured, “and you probably find my voice super annoying. I’ve been told I yap.”
Hermes fell silent for a while; his gaze strayed to the bucket that still held a tuna fish and he reached in and grabbed it, tossing it to the merman in front of him. Instead of catching and biting into it like he had done with the last two, the merman ignored it, letting it fall into the water to be eaten later, and remained where he was, staring expectantly at Hermes.
“You’re not hungry anymore?” Hermes wondered, watching the creature with a rising smile on his face, “Does that mean you’re here because you actually enjoy listening to me talk? Because, I’m telling you, that would be a first. Most people can’t handle the fact I have so much to say at any given moment of the day. Last time I was with my brothers, they were groaning and sighing every time I opened my mouth. Personally, I don’t think it’s a negative character trait to be able to list 101 ocean facts off the top of my head, but I guess nobody at Dionysus’s party was really interested in my ocean facts because I must’ve been told to be quiet in fifteen different ways. Shut up, Hermes. Put a cork in it, Hermes. Hermes, do you have an off button?”
The merman opened its mouth, “Her…mees.”
Hermes jolted, eyes widening as he watched the merman’s lips shape themselves around the very syllables that sounded out his name.
“You can talk,” Hermes squeaked, blinking rapidly as the merman tilted his head, his ear fins twitching curiously, “you can talk. And you just said my name.”
The merman stared at him blankly.
“Can you say it again? Say my name again. Hermes. Hermes,” Hermes prompted, pointing at his own chest as he repeated his name.
“Hermes,” the merman parroted, and Hermes threw his head back and laughed loudly, clapping his hands in excitement.
“YES!” He yelled, and the merman dipped below the water swiftly, wincing at the volume of Hermes’ shout. Hermes immediately quietened down, a thousand apologies falling from his lips as he reached a hand down below the water and beckoned the merman back up.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please come back, I just got too excited. I’ll be quiet, I promise,” Hermes entreated.
A webbed hand wrapped around his and Hermes tentatively lifted the merman back to the surface, peering down apologetically with a genuine smile stretching across his lips.
“I’ll be quiet. I just got excited,” Hermes explained, “see, that word you said - Hermes - that’s my name,” he pointed again to himself when he said it, hopefully the merman understood that the name was attributed to him.
“I can’t believe you can actually speak. That’s amazing. So I can teach you to talk,” Hermes’ eyes shone with mirth and he enclosed his other hand around that of the merman’s, holding onto him perpetually. “I just- I wish there was a way you could tell me your name. Because you must have one. Or do you? I guess you can’t really talk beneath the water. How do your kind speak to each other, I’d love to know. But more importantly I want to know your name, because I can’t just call you merman and creature all the time.”
He spoke as if the merman could answer every burning question he had, like there wasn’t the awkward hindrance of a language barrier between them.
The merman’s hand squeezed his, applying a little more pressure than before, and Hermes noticed then that the merman had shut his eyes, brow furrowed in some sort of intense focus.
Hermes said nothing, wondering what the creature was up to. The merman’s tight hold on his hand did not abate, and soon as Hermes was beginning to worry if the creature was in pain, something sounded in his head.
“Tiresias.”
Hermes all but leapt back, his back hitting the railing behind him as he scrambled away from the merman in shock, hands still hovering in the air where Hermes had yanked himself free of the tight, clawed grip.
“What was that?” Hermes whispered, recovering from baffled fright. He’d heard it, clear as day, a disembodied voice speaking in his head, sending shivers down his spine and causing the hair on his body to stand on edge.
The merman’s brow furrowed in some form of distress and he slowly sank till just his eyes sat above the water.
“Wait,” Hermes lifted his hand, “wait. Was that you speaking to me? Your lips didn’t move. It was like you spoke right into my head. I wasn’t expecting it- it gave me a fright, that’s all.” Hermes straightened up and shifted a little closer to the water again, “I was spooked. Sorry. You- you said… Tiresias?”
The merman’s eyes lit up, quite literally, glowing momentarily brighter at the sound of his name as his lips pulled into a hint of a smile for the first time, which almost left Hermes speechless. Almost.
“Wow! You just- did you just smile at me, Tiresias? That is your name, right? Tiresias. It’s a very pretty name, and that was a pretty smile. I mean- oh, goodness, hahaha, you’ve got me flustered. I wasn’t expecting the smile,” Hermes babbled.
“Hermes,” Tiresias spoke, his deep voice sounding breathy as he murmured the name, and Hermes bit his lip. Why did this merman have to have such an attractive voice? He had to admit, he could get used to hearing his name spoken from Tiresias’s upturned lips.
Over the next few days, Hermes managed to teach Tiresias a few small pieces of vocabulary. To the shock of the other researchers, Tiresias learned and understood the meaning of the words ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ ‘stop,’ ‘go,’ ‘sorry,’ and ‘please.’
Hermes had never fancied himself an English language professor, but the facts spoke for themselves. He had successfully begun teaching a creature of the sea to speak a human language, and not many humans could claim to have done that.
Tiresias hadn’t tried to use his apparent telepathic abilities again since he’d spoken his name into Hermes’ mind, or perhaps he couldn’t use them. It had seemed to take an awful lot of concentration the first and only time he’d done it, but he had periodically taken ahold of Hermes' hand whenever the human started to blather on endlessly. The merman seemed to like the sound of Hermes’ voice even if he didn’t understand a lot of what Hermes was telling him.
It didn’t matter that Tiresias wasn’t a huge conversationalist when he was a spectacular listener.
“Dionysus got me this necklace almost a decade ago,” Hermes explained, showing the merman the gold chain around his neck with a pendant in the shape of a feather attached, “he said it reminds him of me, and I gotta admit, it’s a cool necklace. I basically never take it off.”
Tiresias touched the pendant, investigating its weight and texture.
“I know I should probably call Apollo and Dion more often, but they have this habit of asking me how I’m doing whenever I do talk to them, and then I have to lie and say I’m doing fine because I don’t want to bring the mood down and bore them with my problems, but… I don’t think they believe me. I’ve kind of always been a liar, always spinning tales to get what I want,” Hermes huffed out a mirthless laugh, “maybe that’s why none of them like me.”
The clawed hand that was currently clasped around Hermes’ less pointy one tightened, and Tiresias looked almost sorrowful in response to Hermes’ words.
“Hermes,” the merman said simply in that soft, deep voice of his.
Hermes smiled, wonder shining in his eyes as he gazed at the merman, “I know you don’t understand me, Tiresias, but it almost feels like you do, and I really like that about you.”
In the dim light of the room, Tiresias offered Hermes another tiny smile.
The door to the lab opened so suddenly that both Tiresias and Hermes jerked, startled by the movement and the noise. Tiresias shied away from the hatch, though he remained on the water’s surface as he backed away, glaring at the newcomers with narrowed eyes.
Jesse and Anders did not switch on the lights when they entered, which Hermes was thankful for. They’d taken his advice seriously and navigated the lab with glow sticks attached to their hips unless the light was truly needed, which meant Tiresias didn’t have to wear his blindfold as often.
“Well lookie here. The merman is awake, that’s what I was hoping to see. I’ve bought you breakfast, Tiresias,” Jesse called, holding up a bucket of tuna fish in his hand, “I’m feeding you today, and I want you to talk to me.” Tiresias had said few words in the presence of the other men, and only spoke them to Hermes, refusing to address the others when they tried to prompt him.
“That’s not a good idea, Jesse. He’s not really comfortable with you or the others-“ Hermes tried to explain, but was rudely shoved aside so Jesse could kneel by the open hatch.
Tiresias hissed as Hermes was pushed, baring his sharp teeth to the man who merely snorted in response.
“Come on, you’ve had your turn. It’s my turn to feed it. Call it over,” Jesse told Hermes, nudging his arm brashly.
“He’s not comfortable with you,” Hermes tried to firmly warn the man again.
“I don’t give a shit what it’s comfortable with,” Jesse snapped, and turned back to Tiresias, giving the merman an almost predatory grin, “now come on, how about you come here and have something to eat, and we can get to know each other, yeah?” He grabbed a tuna from the bucket, hanging it over the open hatch in an attempt to lure it.
“No,” Tiresias told him, his voice low and full of contempt.
“Oooh, so you don’t wanna eat today?” Jesse asked sarcastically.
“No,” Tiresias stated again, not having comprehended Jesse’s threat.
“Well if you want to starve, that’s fine. But I want to hear you say more than just one word so speak up. I know Hermes taught you more than that.”
At the mention of Hermes’ name, Tiresias’s gaze shifted to the human he’d befriended, his look imploring as he wordlessly begged Hermes to get the man away from him, and Hermes certainly wasn’t going to let Jesse upset the merman further.
“Alright, enough. He doesn’t want you up here. Let me feed Tiresias,” Hermes told Jesse resolutely, reaching for the bucket. Jesse grabbed Hermes’ wrist tightly enough to hurt, turning his hideous glare on the man.
“You’re not in charge here,” Jesse seethed, squeezing Hermes’ wrist to the point it made him wince, and that simple pained response set Tiresias off.
The merman darted forwards with incredible speed and grabbed the arm still dangling the fish over the hatch, and dragged Jesse into the water before the human even knew what was happening. Jesse released Hermes’ wrist out of shock, sparing the latter from the same fate, and Hermes jumped up as the water sloshed aggressively in the tank, disturbed by the violent beats of Tiresias’s tail as the merman pulled the struggling human deeper still.
“Tiresias! Tiresias, stop!” Hermes cried, but the merman paid him no mind, too lost in his aim to drown Jesse. Anders sprinted over, shouting obscenities as he climbed the ladder up, tranquiliser gun in hand.
“Outta the way! Fuck!” Anders snapped, aiming the tranquilliser into the water blindly.
“Stop, you might hit Jesse!” Hermes was quick to warn.
“Then fucking do something!” The boss shrieked, and Hermes fought the burgeoning panic as his colleague continued to struggle in Tiresias’s unexpectedly strong hold.
The lights. It was the only safe way.
Hermes sprung into action, sliding down the ladder with speed, and sprinted across the lab, almost slipping from the moisture on the soles of his trainers. He all but slammed into the light switches, turning them all on and bringing blinding light back into the lab.
Hermes watched Tiresias release Jesse, swimming down blindly to paw at the floor in search of his blindfold. Hermes wished he hadn’t had to do that - he hated causing Tiresias any sort of distress, but he couldn’t very well let the merman drown his colleague. Jesse managed to swim back to the hatch, taking Anders’ offered hand to climb out while coughing and hacking up water, his choked breaths interspersed with derogatory words.
Then, despite having successfully gotten Jesse to safety, Anders lifted the tranquiliser and shot Tiresias anyway. The sedative dart lodged into the merman’s back just as he finished putting his blindfold on, and his mouth opened in a silent shout from the piercing pain of it, before Tiresias went limp in the water.
“Why did you do that!?” Hermes cried, “You had Jesse out! Why did you sedate him?”
Anders turned his fiery, unforgiving gaze on Hermes as if the unfortunate event had been entirely his fault, “So we can demonstrate that actions have consequences.”
Hermes did not like the boss’s somewhat cryptic warning, and he further did not like that he was forced out of the lab when the boss reminded him that his shift was now over, and he wasn’t welcome back until nine o’clock that night. When Hermes insisted on not going anywhere until he knew Tiresias was going to be safe, Anders threatened to call security and have him kicked out, which persuaded Hermes to reluctantly step out.
He had an entire fourteen hours before he would be allowed back, and tried desperately to distract himself in the gym; his body refused to sleep when he laid down his head in bed, and so he instead composed a message to Apollo, asking what his brother was up to.
Apollo sent back a short video containing a snippet of the new song he had composed, which the man played proudly on his guitar. It was a good song, which wasn’t a surprise given Apollo’s talent for music, but Hermes couldn’t bring himself to type out a praising message when his stomach was eating itself with anxiety, so he simply sent a thumbs up emoji and put his phone down to try to get some rest before he saw Tiresias again that evening.
When Hermes entered the lab again, he walked into a quiet, dark room where only Anders sat at his computer, logging his report for the day. In the tank, Tiresias rested in the coil of his tail in the far corner, the point furthest away from the currently locked hatch, and Hermes felt rising dread when he spotted the black collar-like object strapped around Tiresias’s neck.
“What is that?” Hermes asked, trying not to sound accusatory towards his hot-tempered boss, “Why’s there a collar around his neck?”
“A shock collar. Would you like a demonstration?” Anders retorted, lifting what looked like a little gray remote.
“No! Please, don’t!” Hermes shouted, “You don’t need to keep a shock collar on him, he’s not naturally aggressive! Jesse taunted him, and-“
“And what? The creature needs to understand that resisting or fighting us will cause it pain. Like this, it will be less inclined to harm any of us in future,” Anders explained with a no-nonsense tone.
Hermes clenched his jaw, keeping himself from spitting an insulting response, and stepped closer to examine Tiresias’s state within the tank. Who knew how many times his colleagues had cruelly activated the inhumane torture device around the merman’s neck?
Tiresias had not roused from Hermes’ pleading shout at Anders, nor did he rouse when Hermes knelt right outside the tank where he was curled up, which meant the merman was deep asleep, probably exhausted.
Then Hermes noticed, from the green glow of the nearby glow stick, that Tiresias ear-fin was nicked.
“What- what happened?” Hermes asked aloud, his eyes darting over Tiresias’s face when he noticed a scrape across the merman’s jaw, and a cut on his right shoulder, and a nasty gash across his side.
Hermes was not usually one to experience rage, but he stood slowly, feeling his limbs shaking with barely concealed fury, and he turned his livid gaze on Anders, “What did you do?”
Anders crossed his arms, addressing Hermes with a neutral stare, “Today, we tested the creature’s pain threshold and response to painful stimuli.”
“Why?” Hermes’ voice cracked when he spoke, feeling his eyes sting. All day, Hermes had been running in the gym or tucked into bed trying to sleep while his colleagues had tortured the living being they held against his will.
“For science. Don’t worry, it was only the one time,” Anders replied defensively, “unless he acts up again. Then he gets shocked. He’ll learn fast though, I’m sure. So there shouldn’t be any more mishaps.”
The boss walked past Hermes, pointedly slipping the shock collar remote into his own breast pocket, showing Hermes that there was no way to save Tiresias from the threat of an agonising shock right over his delicate gills.
He was left alone, and promptly wiped his eyes when the door shut. Hermes sniffled before gathering his wits, and went about collecting a few first-aid medical supplies, including antiseptic spray, soothing cream and gauze.
He just hoped Tiresias still trusted him after what the merman had been through that day in Hermes’ absence.
When Hermes climbed the platform and reached the hatch, he took a breath before unlocking and opening it up. The slight squeak of the metal disturbed Tiresias’s sleep, and he watched as the merman flinched awake, assuming either Anders or Jesse were back to inflict more pain on him.
“It’s me. It’s Hermes,” Hermes called, reaching his hand down into the water and beckoning Tiresias up. The merman did not immediately swim up, to Hermes’ dismay, but he refused to give up. It took ten minutes of repetitive gentle luring and the encouraging mention of the merman’s name multiple times from beseeching lips, but eventually Tiresias rose slowly to the surface, looking cautiously at Hermes from just out of reach.
“Tiresias, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were going to hurt you. I never would’ve left you alone, I swear,” Hermes held out his hand, tears once again stinging his eyes at just how timid the merman had become towards him in less than a day.
Hermes would do anything it took to gain back the lost trust.
“Tiresias, please come to me. I won’t hurt you,” Hermes begged, and the soft green of the merman’s eyes shifted to the rest of the room searchingly, “It’s okay, Tiresias. It’s just me, I’m here alone,” he gestured to himself, tapping his chest, and then offered his hand again.
The merman’s watery eyes regarded him with caution, and Hermes could not tell if his eyelids were moist from tears or if it was simply the water, but the merman spoke quietly, almost as soundless as a whisper, “Hermes?”
“Yes. Just me, I swear,” Hermes repeated, and Tiresias inched closer, reaching for his hand. Those clawed fingers curled around Hermes’ hand, and the moment contact was made, Tiresias’s hold tightened like he was hanging to a lifeline.
“Hermes,” Tiresias whispered again, his voice taut with emotion, and a tear slipped from Hermes’ eye as he gently pulled Tiresias to him.
“I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry, so sorry,” he breathed, lifting his other hand to cup the merman’s face, mindful of the abrasion on his jaw. The merman stifled a noise in the back of his throat that sounded an awful lot like a suppressed sob, and he leaned into the tender touch.
“Oh,” Hermes murmured, the sight wrenching at his heart, “darling, I need to look at your injuries. I think I can help you feel better - heal faster. Will you let me look you over?”
Tiresias’s face sunk a little further into Hermes’ warm palm, and Hermes took that as agreement, that Tiresias trusted he wouldn’t do anything to bring the merman harm.
“Tiresias, will you let me help you?” Hermes asked again, and this time the merman gazed into his eyes and responded.
“Yes.”
Hermes had Tiresias recover his blindfold at the bottom of the tank, and slowly but surely lifted Tiresias out of the water and into the trolley on the elevator platform. He lowered the platform to ground level and wheeled the merman over to the white table, but the closer Tiresias got to the flat surface, the more apprehensive he became, until he began to tremble. This was where they had hurt him.
“No,” Tiresias whispered, “no. No.”
Hermes hushed the merman gently, cupping his face and holding his hand again, “Shhh. It’ll be alright, Tiresias. I’m not going to hurt you like they did.”
Tiresias, still quivering, allowed Hermes to lift him and lie him down upon the white table. He remained still, but several whimpers breached his throat when Hermes began applying the restraints. He periodically squeezed Tiresias’s hand and rubbed his shoulder soothingly while he worked to secure the merman. He knew Tiresias wouldn’t lash out at him on purpose, but if he got too on edge, it was possible the merman might reflexively try to protect himself.
With Tiresias strapped down, Hermes stroked the merman’s cheek and gave him a reassuring smile, telling him, “This isn’t going to take long. I’ll have you good as new in no time,” before he slipped the merman’s blindfold down over his eyes.
Hermes switched the lab lights on, illuminating Tiresias’s bound figure brightly, revealing every cut and scrape upon his body. The merman’s blue-gray skin was littered with shallow lacerations that looked sore or stinging, still oozing with blue blood.
He had to take some minutes to quell his anger, otherwise he was sure Tiresias would be able to sense it, and it would only serve to daunt the merman further.
Hermes took a breath, caressing Tiresias’s arm to help pacify him; he put on a pair of disposable vinyl gloves, grabbed the antiseptic spray, and prepared himself for the upsetting sound that would be quick to follow.
He sprayed the laceration on Tiresias’s waist, and the merman drew in a sharp breath, followed by a whine through gritted teeth, and cried, “Stop. No.”
“I have to, Tiresias. I’m sorry,” Hermes sighed as Tiresias squirmed in his restraints, which only got progressively worse as the human proceeded to spray each graze and cut to ensure the injury was clean. Tiresias hissed and groaned each and every time the antiseptic made his wounds sting, and Hermes apologised profusely each and every time.
When every visible injury had been cleaned, Hermes readily tossed the antiseptic spray back into the first-aid kit and placed his palm over Tiresias’s chest, “There we go, the worst is over. I’m sorry it hurt, but that just means it’s working,” his splayed fingers rubbed back and forth and Tiresias’ squirming ceased.
The merman swallowed and his body gave an involuntary shiver.
“This next bit won’t be so bad. The cream will soothe your cuts, so it’s not going to sting,” Hermes stated softly. He spent the next few minutes applying the cream to each of the injuries, this time pulling no more than a few quiet gasps from the merman. Hermes then wrapped the wounds in waterproof gauze; it probably wasn’t necessary to cover the abrasions with the wrappings, but it might prevent Tiresias from poking at them, if he was inclined to do so.
“I’m all done,” Hermes breathed in relief, removing his disposable gloves and tossing them in the trash. He wrapped his hand around Tiresias’s bound one, “Hopefully that’ll help your wounds heal up in no time. Thank you for trusting me, darling.”
Tiresias exhaled slowly through parted lips and squeezed Hermes’ hand in return, and the human moved in a little closer to examine the shock collar still wrapped around the merman’s neck.
“I’m going to try and convince Anders to get this thing off of you,” Hermes told the merman with sorrowful determination, “because this cannot be comfortable even when it’s not activated. It’s half-pressing on your gills, does that impede how they work in the water at all?” He frowned, lifting the collar away from Tiresias’s throat with what little space it allowed, so that he could check how tender the gills were.
It had to have felt like the equivalent of an unyielding pressure hampering his airways at any given moment, and when the damn thing was activated, it sent searing pain through one of the most sensitive areas on the merman’s body. It was cruel, needlessly so. Tiresias didn’t deserve this.
Hermes’ finger traced over the uppermost closed gill flap where the skin was a darker blue from irritation, and Tiresias inhaled sharply, going still in his constraints.
“Oh, does that hurt? Sorry, darling,” Hermes sighed, drawing his hand away to let it rest over Tiresias’s stomach instead, and stroked his flat palm back and forth over the merman’s abdomen by way of settling him, “I’m not sure what I can do for your gills to lessen that irritation, I don’t want to apply anything that could seep inside and interfere with how your respiratory system works. Don’t worry, I’m going to talk with Anders and see if I can get him to remove it. I’m pretty persuasive, you know.” He chuckled, not noticing the quivering breaths Tiresias was taking, and then turned to unfasten the strap around his tail that was closest to his hips.
Hermes paused, catching sight of something just below the restraint that looked unusual, something he hadn’t noticed before. There appeared to be a vertical gap in the scales of Tiresias’s tail, the flesh below a deep bluish-purple, and Hermes frowned at the sight.
“Did they hurt this part of your tail, Tiresias?” Hermes questioned with a gloomy tone, and quickly released the strap just above the odd dip amidst the scales.
“I swear, I’m going to break their fucking noses if they’ve done anything else to you,” Hermes hissed, placing his hands either side of the concave, and lightly pulled the scales apart to get a better look.
Tiresias stifled a desperate noise in the back of his throat, his hand flexing in its binding in a way that beckoned for Hermes to hold his hand, but both of Hermes’ hands were busy, so the merman would have to wait.
“Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out, darling,” Hermes promised, pledging to heal any wounds inflicted upon his body. He pressed his fingers to the very edge of the gap, his fingertips brushing the spongy flesh within that felt remarkably hot when the rest of Tiresias’s body was naturally cool.
This time, Tiresias let out an audible cry, and where the hip constraints no longer held him down against the table, the merman arched up to meet Hermes’ exploratory touch.
The movement caused Hermes’ fingers to slip fully inside the hot, wet concave, and Tiresias keened, shaking in his bindings, before moaning a plea, “Yes, Hermes.”
Hermes retracted his hand like he’d touched lava, almost falling into the stool behind him as he took a few steps back, the revelation of what that gap between the scales in Tiresias’s tail actually was hitting him like a freight train.
Tiresias whimpered, his shaky movements calming as his head followed the direction of the sound, “Hermes?”
“Oh, I-“ Hermes stammered, his face red with mortification as he stared down at his fingers, which were covered with a clear secretion of some sort. Idiot. Stupid idiot. He was such a moron.
“I’m sorry, I-“ Hermes mumbled hastily, “I didn’t- I should’ve-“ He swallowed the spit in his mouth, failing to keep his eyes from straying towards the vertical slit positioned on the merman’s tail.
He should have realised. The position of it, the lack of blood that would’ve indicated a wound, Tiresias’s soft little noises in response to his probing touches. God, he was such a creep. How was he going to explain to Tiresias that this had been an accident?
“Hermes? Please,” Tiresias whispered, and upon looking more closely, Hermes spotted the dark blue flush below the merman’s skin over his cheeks and across his chest. The fast, shallow breaths he was taking. Hermes could identify the signs of arousal now that he realised what he’d been touching; he wanted to hit himself for not paying better attention before he’d started prodding around.
“Sorry Tiresias,” Hermes squeaked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t- didn’t mean to do… that.”
“Hermes?” Tiresias repeated, his lips forming the beginnings of a pout, and Hermes stifled a groan, dismayed by his own actions, even though they had been entirely unintentional.
Without saying anything else, Hermes began undoing the other straps across Tiresias’s body, his lips pursed even as Tiresias, newly released, tried to guide Hermes’ hand back to the weeping slit in his tail.
“No,” Hermes stated firmly, and Tiresias’s lips parted questioningly, the corners pulling down into a frown that made Hermes feel like shit.
Hermes lifted Tiresias and placed him in the trolley, moving the merman to the elevator platform, and Tiresias attempted to remove his blindfold before realising the lights were still blindingly bright, and rethought that venture. Hermes was glad the merman could not see his face at that moment.
“Hermes?” Tiresias asked again, his voice cracking with a layer of despondency, and Hermes resented their very basic level of communication with each other. This needed more than a few words to explain.
Hermes slipped his hand away every time Tiresias reached for it, and the merman retaliated by resisting when Hermes tried to carry him back into the hatch.
“Please don’t make this difficult,” Hermes groaned imploringly, struggling to carry a very wriggly merman, but he just about managed, depositing Tiresias back into the tank. He closed the hatch swiftly even as Tiresias popped back up to the surface, but when the merman realised Hermes was shutting him in, thus erasing any hopes of the human sharing any of his incomprehensible stories that night, he let out a shout of frustration and slammed his tail hard against the water’s surface, splashing Hermes through the metal grating.
Hermes sighed, wiping his hand over his face. Tiresias had every right to be pissed at him; Hermes had touched him inappropriately, left the merman hot and bothered before promptly stopping his ministrations without explanation, and chucked him back in his tank - a complete break from the routine they normally shared.
But Hermes wasn’t ready to face the merman after that. He crossed the room to switch the lights off and pointedly didn’t look in the direction of the tank for the rest of the night, instead electing to type up a report of what he had learned.