Fic: mermaid!Tazer AU (4/?)
Welp, plot bunnies aside, I might as well continue where I left off in fandom.
Part 1 | 2 | 3
After that, Tazer doesn't return to the cove all week. In between school, netball, and training, there simply isn't time for it. Especially not with everyone's eyes on him. His family, Coach, and his teammates surround him at any given moment of the day. How would he explain a trip to the surface? It's discouraged by the kingdom, and premeditated interaction with a human is completely illegal. If anyone even knew what Tazer had done last week, Jesus Christ.
It doesn't keep him from wondering if Kaner showed again, though. If Kaner's been disappointed by Tazer's absence.
It's better this way,” Tazer thinks resolutely, grabbing his shell for a sip of tea. Because whether it’s anticipating a cloud of bubbles and blonde curls by his bedcave every morning, or thinking TJ kind of looks like Kaner from the back, hes definitely starting to lose it. For fuck's sake, Regionals are next Friday. Tazer doesn't need this kind of distraction.
“Oh great, summer storm’s coming in tomorrow night,” Dad says, peering at his newspaper. “Jonny, can you help me seal the water ducts when I get home from work? I don’t want any of the runoff getting inside the cave.”
“Sure, Dad,” Tazer says, ripping off a hunk of sponge and popping it into his mouth.
“I don’t know why you insist on reading those laminated surface papers,” his mom clucks, refilling Dad’s tea. “They cost twice as much to import, plus they never make a peep about underwater currents. How are you supposed to plan your commute that way?“ She suddenly stops mid-pour to pick up the sports section, tossing it over to Tazer. “Cheri, isn’t that the human from last week?”
Tazer freezes, eyes darting to where Maman points. The surface paper is still folded neatly next to Dad’s half-eaten sponge, but a small, rectangular photograph is visible as day.
It's Kaner. That girl's haircut and dopey grin couldn't be anyone else. Tazer flicks his eyes away and glares at the far wall, chewing furiously, hoping Maman will leave it alone.
“You remember the boy, don’t you?” she prods. “He was drowning outside your bedcave.”
“I don’t know what you’re-“
She picks up the paper and holds it front of his face so that the black and white portrait, where Kaner's sporting some kind of jersey (and a huge, shit-eating grin) above the words “Buffalo Native Picked First Overall in NHL Draft”, is inescapable.
“Oh, yeah,” Tazer says faintly. “I guess I remember him.”
“Well, isn't that interesting,” Maman muses, setting the paper down and tucking into her own breakfast. ”I suppose it's just as well you took him up to the surface, if he's that important to the humans.”
“Yep,” Tazer replies, trying to keep his voice level as his fingers twitch on the table.
Coach always said one of Tazer's strengths was superb willpower, but it takes every ounce of it now for Tazer not to snatch the paper and devour the article. He picks up the remainder of his sponge instead and stuffs it into his mouth, washing it down with the rest of his tea.
“J'ai fini,” Tazer announces, slamming his empty shell onto the table and pushing himself away from the kitchen table.
He darts back to his bedcave, quick as can be before his resolve breaks and he goes back for the paper to throw himself further down the rabbit hole. There's nothing to gain from learning more about Kaner-about how he's, what, some mega sportstar? That's can't even be true; he's such a midget, the 'NHL' has got to be some minor league.
Tazer's already overstepped, anyway. Being seen once is okay; humans tend to dismiss the occasional sighting as a trick of the light. But saving a human from drowning, three times in a row? And then drinking beers with him and giving up his name? Yeah, Tazer's done enough damage. Everyone knows how relations between mer-people and humans turn out: not well.
Eye on the prize, Tazer thinks to himself, as he gathers his backpack and readies his Econ materials for class.
Eye on the prize.
-----
It's been over a week since Tazer's shown up at the cove.
”I thought we had, like, a moment,” Patrick sulks, dripping beer from his fingers onto a crumpled straw wrapper.
Sam flicks the expanding paper away, saying, “Maybe he's been busy. It's not like you guys had a set date for the next time you'd chill.“
“Heh, date,” Tom chuckles, grabbing Patrick's forty and taking a large swig from it. Normally he'd be annoyed, but Tom and Matty are his best friends in Buffalo and mi casa es su casa, right? Mi beer es su beer. And anyway, Matty's the one who bought the forties because he's six foot tall with a beard like a lumberjack and hasn't been carded since he was fifteen. Patrick's kind of hoping he won't ask for cash back. He's saving his dolla for more six-packs to bring to Tazer's mer-cave because every day he's shown up for the last week he's had to sit around for hours. And what else is there to do but drink the tribute he's brought when he's got nothing to do all day? On the plus side, Patrick's pretty sure his farmers' tan is evening out.
“Hello?” Tom says, snapping his fingers in front of Patrick's face before plunking down a newly opened can in front of him. “I asked if you wanted to go on a date with this dude like, seven times and you didn't say anything. You trying to tell us something, Pattycakes? ”
“Eurgh,” Patrick gurgles. “It wouldn't be a fucking date, dipstick. I just want to hang out and like, be friends. Tazer's so fucking weird 'cause he's from-I dunno, really far up in Canada or something-and he's fun to wind up. He has no idea how to take a joke. It's awesome.” Patrick buries his face into his crossed arms, not caring if his friends can hear his muffled words or not. “Fuck it, it doesn't even matter that I want to be friends because he's fucking disappeared and I can't get his number 'cause he's from the Stone Ages and doesn't have a cell phone and how does anyone contact people without cell phones?”
There's a pause as Tom, Matt, and Sam nurse their respective beers and Patrick makes a long, frustrated noise into his elbows. Finally, Matt sets down his beer, the sound of it making Patrick lift his head.
“Dude,” Matt says. “Pat. You're obsessing.” He then turns to Tom and overtly mouths the name Ma-di-son West.
“This is nothing like Madison,” Patrick groans, picking up an empty and throwing it at Matty's head. He looks over at Sam who's drinking innocently at the other end of the counter, clearly opting to stay out of a local drama he has no business being a part of. He's simply visiting Patrick from Oakville for a few days; their last season together as Knights might over, but that doesn't mean their friendship needs to go too. Patrick explains with a shrug, “Madison was some girl I had a thing with last summer.”
“If by 'thing' you mean 'stalked like a total creep for two months until she went off to college',” Tom snorts.
“Fuck you,” Patrick says halfheartedly. “I'm serious, guys. What am I supposed to do about Tazer? I really wanna see him again.”
Tom takes pity on him and replies, “Just keep trying. It's only been what-not even a week? It's like Sam said, maybe she's busy.”
Patrick sighs, too exhausted to bother correcting Tom's pronoun usage. “God, you guys will never stop giving me shit, will you?”
“Never,” Tom replies easily. “But come on, give us a little credit. We've known you since peewee. You're clearly into this Tazer chick, so stop trying to hide it. Especially when wanting to be biffles with a dude is way more lame than wanting to tap some fine ass.”
In the corner of his eye, Patrick can see Sam watching him thoughtfully. Doesn't know what's running through Gagsy's head though, so he ignores it for now. “So...what, then. I just keep going to our spot?”
“Yeah, man. You're annoyingly persistent when you want to be. Leave a note if you gotta. She'll turn up eventually and if you're not there, she'll see your note.”
Patrick considers this, breaking into a slow grin. “Hell, ain't nobody can keep away from Number One for long. Am I right or am I right?”
That earns him a round of scoffing from his supposed friends, Sam included as he reaches behind Patrick's head to flip the lid of his cap off. “You're such a loser, Kaner,” he says.
“Sure, sure,” Patrick smiles, fixing his hat. His boys might be dicks, but they never fail him.
They're absolutely right about one thing: Patrick's persistent. And he likes Tom's idea of leaving Tazer notes. It's like leaving a text message, just...in sand.
Whatever; Patrick's gonna see his mermaid again, sooner or later.
Reference videos for Kaner's old Buffalo buddies Matt and Tom can be found here and here
Part 1 | 2 | 3
After that, Tazer doesn't return to the cove all week. In between school, netball, and training, there simply isn't time for it. Especially not with everyone's eyes on him. His family, Coach, and his teammates surround him at any given moment of the day. How would he explain a trip to the surface? It's discouraged by the kingdom, and premeditated interaction with a human is completely illegal. If anyone even knew what Tazer had done last week, Jesus Christ.
It doesn't keep him from wondering if Kaner showed again, though. If Kaner's been disappointed by Tazer's absence.
It's better this way,” Tazer thinks resolutely, grabbing his shell for a sip of tea. Because whether it’s anticipating a cloud of bubbles and blonde curls by his bedcave every morning, or thinking TJ kind of looks like Kaner from the back, hes definitely starting to lose it. For fuck's sake, Regionals are next Friday. Tazer doesn't need this kind of distraction.
“Oh great, summer storm’s coming in tomorrow night,” Dad says, peering at his newspaper. “Jonny, can you help me seal the water ducts when I get home from work? I don’t want any of the runoff getting inside the cave.”
“Sure, Dad,” Tazer says, ripping off a hunk of sponge and popping it into his mouth.
“I don’t know why you insist on reading those laminated surface papers,” his mom clucks, refilling Dad’s tea. “They cost twice as much to import, plus they never make a peep about underwater currents. How are you supposed to plan your commute that way?“ She suddenly stops mid-pour to pick up the sports section, tossing it over to Tazer. “Cheri, isn’t that the human from last week?”
Tazer freezes, eyes darting to where Maman points. The surface paper is still folded neatly next to Dad’s half-eaten sponge, but a small, rectangular photograph is visible as day.
It's Kaner. That girl's haircut and dopey grin couldn't be anyone else. Tazer flicks his eyes away and glares at the far wall, chewing furiously, hoping Maman will leave it alone.
“You remember the boy, don’t you?” she prods. “He was drowning outside your bedcave.”
“I don’t know what you’re-“
She picks up the paper and holds it front of his face so that the black and white portrait, where Kaner's sporting some kind of jersey (and a huge, shit-eating grin) above the words “Buffalo Native Picked First Overall in NHL Draft”, is inescapable.
“Oh, yeah,” Tazer says faintly. “I guess I remember him.”
“Well, isn't that interesting,” Maman muses, setting the paper down and tucking into her own breakfast. ”I suppose it's just as well you took him up to the surface, if he's that important to the humans.”
“Yep,” Tazer replies, trying to keep his voice level as his fingers twitch on the table.
Coach always said one of Tazer's strengths was superb willpower, but it takes every ounce of it now for Tazer not to snatch the paper and devour the article. He picks up the remainder of his sponge instead and stuffs it into his mouth, washing it down with the rest of his tea.
“J'ai fini,” Tazer announces, slamming his empty shell onto the table and pushing himself away from the kitchen table.
He darts back to his bedcave, quick as can be before his resolve breaks and he goes back for the paper to throw himself further down the rabbit hole. There's nothing to gain from learning more about Kaner-about how he's, what, some mega sportstar? That's can't even be true; he's such a midget, the 'NHL' has got to be some minor league.
Tazer's already overstepped, anyway. Being seen once is okay; humans tend to dismiss the occasional sighting as a trick of the light. But saving a human from drowning, three times in a row? And then drinking beers with him and giving up his name? Yeah, Tazer's done enough damage. Everyone knows how relations between mer-people and humans turn out: not well.
Eye on the prize, Tazer thinks to himself, as he gathers his backpack and readies his Econ materials for class.
Eye on the prize.
-----
It's been over a week since Tazer's shown up at the cove.
”I thought we had, like, a moment,” Patrick sulks, dripping beer from his fingers onto a crumpled straw wrapper.
Sam flicks the expanding paper away, saying, “Maybe he's been busy. It's not like you guys had a set date for the next time you'd chill.“
“Heh, date,” Tom chuckles, grabbing Patrick's forty and taking a large swig from it. Normally he'd be annoyed, but Tom and Matty are his best friends in Buffalo and mi casa es su casa, right? Mi beer es su beer. And anyway, Matty's the one who bought the forties because he's six foot tall with a beard like a lumberjack and hasn't been carded since he was fifteen. Patrick's kind of hoping he won't ask for cash back. He's saving his dolla for more six-packs to bring to Tazer's mer-cave because every day he's shown up for the last week he's had to sit around for hours. And what else is there to do but drink the tribute he's brought when he's got nothing to do all day? On the plus side, Patrick's pretty sure his farmers' tan is evening out.
“Hello?” Tom says, snapping his fingers in front of Patrick's face before plunking down a newly opened can in front of him. “I asked if you wanted to go on a date with this dude like, seven times and you didn't say anything. You trying to tell us something, Pattycakes? ”
“Eurgh,” Patrick gurgles. “It wouldn't be a fucking date, dipstick. I just want to hang out and like, be friends. Tazer's so fucking weird 'cause he's from-I dunno, really far up in Canada or something-and he's fun to wind up. He has no idea how to take a joke. It's awesome.” Patrick buries his face into his crossed arms, not caring if his friends can hear his muffled words or not. “Fuck it, it doesn't even matter that I want to be friends because he's fucking disappeared and I can't get his number 'cause he's from the Stone Ages and doesn't have a cell phone and how does anyone contact people without cell phones?”
There's a pause as Tom, Matt, and Sam nurse their respective beers and Patrick makes a long, frustrated noise into his elbows. Finally, Matt sets down his beer, the sound of it making Patrick lift his head.
“Dude,” Matt says. “Pat. You're obsessing.” He then turns to Tom and overtly mouths the name Ma-di-son West.
“This is nothing like Madison,” Patrick groans, picking up an empty and throwing it at Matty's head. He looks over at Sam who's drinking innocently at the other end of the counter, clearly opting to stay out of a local drama he has no business being a part of. He's simply visiting Patrick from Oakville for a few days; their last season together as Knights might over, but that doesn't mean their friendship needs to go too. Patrick explains with a shrug, “Madison was some girl I had a thing with last summer.”
“If by 'thing' you mean 'stalked like a total creep for two months until she went off to college',” Tom snorts.
“Fuck you,” Patrick says halfheartedly. “I'm serious, guys. What am I supposed to do about Tazer? I really wanna see him again.”
Tom takes pity on him and replies, “Just keep trying. It's only been what-not even a week? It's like Sam said, maybe she's busy.”
Patrick sighs, too exhausted to bother correcting Tom's pronoun usage. “God, you guys will never stop giving me shit, will you?”
“Never,” Tom replies easily. “But come on, give us a little credit. We've known you since peewee. You're clearly into this Tazer chick, so stop trying to hide it. Especially when wanting to be biffles with a dude is way more lame than wanting to tap some fine ass.”
In the corner of his eye, Patrick can see Sam watching him thoughtfully. Doesn't know what's running through Gagsy's head though, so he ignores it for now. “So...what, then. I just keep going to our spot?”
“Yeah, man. You're annoyingly persistent when you want to be. Leave a note if you gotta. She'll turn up eventually and if you're not there, she'll see your note.”
Patrick considers this, breaking into a slow grin. “Hell, ain't nobody can keep away from Number One for long. Am I right or am I right?”
That earns him a round of scoffing from his supposed friends, Sam included as he reaches behind Patrick's head to flip the lid of his cap off. “You're such a loser, Kaner,” he says.
“Sure, sure,” Patrick smiles, fixing his hat. His boys might be dicks, but they never fail him.
They're absolutely right about one thing: Patrick's persistent. And he likes Tom's idea of leaving Tazer notes. It's like leaving a text message, just...in sand.
Whatever; Patrick's gonna see his mermaid again, sooner or later.
Reference videos for Kaner's old Buffalo buddies Matt and Tom can be found here and here