Sea Child (Z/Tennessee)
Dear harborshore, this is not your birthday story. That story isn't finished. This is actually one of the first things I wrote for The Like. I'm posting it today because I thought, as a placeholder, you might like to read ambiguous mermaid fic on your birthday ♥
Bandom (The Like) | Z/Tennessee | 1000 words | PG
Summary: Z knows that you don't trust the word of a mermaid.
Disclaimer: I don't know any of the members of The Like. This is fiction, written for fun and with affection.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to softlyforgotten, who always liked this story, and my apologies that it never became something more.
ETA: Looking back at this, I don't love the portrayal of disability. I was going for some kind of Edwardian pastiche, but I think I may have imported some ableist bs along with it.
Sea Child
Z could see Tennessee from the top of the path. She was playing between the rocks, dodging the waves that shattered spray into her face. Z watched her tip her face into the spray, laughing as the sun picked out glitters in her wet eyelashes. Then she dove, her tail flashing silver, and re-emerged with enough upward momentum to plant her hands on the flat edge of a rock and push up to meet the next wave.
It made Z's chest expand, too tight. She put her head down, concentrating on manoeuvring down the rocky path. It wasn't easy, even after so much practice. Still, she had time to reach the rocks and make herself comfortable before Tennessee noticed her.
"Z!" Tennessee waved an arm over her head, her smile lighting up. She dove again, her body a pale arc through the water; she swam with her tail, her arms pressed to her sides. She surfaced just in front of Z, water streaming down her face, and grinned as she pushed back her hair.
"Hello," Z said. She tucked her hands around the edges of her knees, frowning.
Tennessee smiled wider. "The water's beautiful today," she said. She threw her arms out, letting herself subside back into the green. "You should feel it."
Tennessee was always saying things like that.
"I'd come for a swim," Z said jaggedly, "but, you know." She touched the spokes of her wheel chair.
"You know that doesn't matter," Tennessee said. She leaned up, her bare shoulders inches from Z's chair. "I told you. If you take my hand -" She reached up to take Z's, shaking her head to finish the sentence. "You won't need legs if you have a fish tail."
Z snatched her hand back. "Don't," she said. "I can't - I'm not an idiot, you know. I know the things mermaids say to lure - I've heard all the stories. I always knew, all summer."
Tennessee let her hand drop.
Z looked away, to the side. Her fingers clutched in the folds of her skirt over her useless legs. "I know why you chose a wheelchair-bound girl," she said, making her voice hard to cover up her uncertainty. "You thought you could offer - well, I won't. I'm not that stupid."
Tennessee looked angry for a moment, angry and sad, as if Z was breaking her heart. Then she shrugged, tension rolling off her shoulders like water. She looked down, playing with a bit of her wet hair. "Maybe I just want to take you somewhere I can spend more time with you," she said. "Maybe I just want to touch you." She looked up, pushing a strand of hair away from her mouth.
Z couldn't look away. Tennessee reached her hand out, her fingers curling around the hem of Z's skirt. "I can't reach you," she said, and her eyes were huge as she stared up at Z. "I want to."
Z took a shuddery breath. "My mother - my mother thinks there might be a cure," she said. "In London. That's why we're over here - she's trying to get me an appointment with this doctor."
Tennessee looked down again, her finger tracing over the black patent leather of Z's shoe. Z couldn't feel it but it still made her shiver. "There are currents you can ride, in the deep ocean," Tennessee said. "You just point your toes and lie back and you coast by as if nothing was any effort at all. And when you come up you burst through into the sunshine and it's like the whole sky was made for you."
She moved her head and her hair slid across her cheek. Z's eyes slipped without her permission down to Tennessee's bare shoulders, to the inside curve of her arm. She wanted. "I know what you're doing," she muttered.
Tennessee surged up, her hands tangling with the wheels of Z's chair. "I only want you to say yes," she said. "You don't even like it on land. You hate your chair, and you're scared of this new doctor, I know you are. If you come into the water you'll be free. Say yes."
Z stared down. She bit her lip hard enough to hurt. "I'm scared of you," she whispered.
Tennessee smiled, slow like the sun filtering through. She looked as though she'd won. "Be brave."
Z could feel her heart thundering in her chest. She stared down at Tennessee, trying to see in her eyes if she was trustworthy, if she was true. Z wanted to see that, but Tennessee's eyes were as clear and depthless as reflections of the sky. There was no reassurance there. Z felt her heart rate speed up anyway.
She let herself think about the doctor her mother wanted her to see. Tennessee was right: Z was afraid of doctors. They poked and prodded her with needles and shocks, and they were so delighted when they found a nerve, when they made her hurt, digging at her legs. Z almost hadn't come down to the shore today, the spectre of a huge decision catching in her throat.
Tennessee rested her cheek on her folded arms, gazing up at Z. She was all cool skin and sweet eyes and sunshine on water, the antithesis of those close rooms and the doctors with their sharp jabs and hooded eyes. She was everything Z had always believed could never happen to her.
When Z thought of it like that, it seemed like the clearest choice she had ever made. She put her hands on the wheels of her chair. "I don't trust you," she whispered. Tennessee lifted her face.
"Will you catch me?" Z asked.
Tennessee smiled, slow and bright. "Yes."
Z snicked the lock on her wheels and pushed herself forward. The chair tipped and for a moment there was just water, terrifying and cold in Z's throat, her body a dead weight in the current. Then cool arms twined around her neck.
Bandom (The Like) | Z/Tennessee | 1000 words | PG
Summary: Z knows that you don't trust the word of a mermaid.
Disclaimer: I don't know any of the members of The Like. This is fiction, written for fun and with affection.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to softlyforgotten, who always liked this story, and my apologies that it never became something more.
ETA: Looking back at this, I don't love the portrayal of disability. I was going for some kind of Edwardian pastiche, but I think I may have imported some ableist bs along with it.
Sea Child
Z could see Tennessee from the top of the path. She was playing between the rocks, dodging the waves that shattered spray into her face. Z watched her tip her face into the spray, laughing as the sun picked out glitters in her wet eyelashes. Then she dove, her tail flashing silver, and re-emerged with enough upward momentum to plant her hands on the flat edge of a rock and push up to meet the next wave.
It made Z's chest expand, too tight. She put her head down, concentrating on manoeuvring down the rocky path. It wasn't easy, even after so much practice. Still, she had time to reach the rocks and make herself comfortable before Tennessee noticed her.
"Z!" Tennessee waved an arm over her head, her smile lighting up. She dove again, her body a pale arc through the water; she swam with her tail, her arms pressed to her sides. She surfaced just in front of Z, water streaming down her face, and grinned as she pushed back her hair.
"Hello," Z said. She tucked her hands around the edges of her knees, frowning.
Tennessee smiled wider. "The water's beautiful today," she said. She threw her arms out, letting herself subside back into the green. "You should feel it."
Tennessee was always saying things like that.
"I'd come for a swim," Z said jaggedly, "but, you know." She touched the spokes of her wheel chair.
"You know that doesn't matter," Tennessee said. She leaned up, her bare shoulders inches from Z's chair. "I told you. If you take my hand -" She reached up to take Z's, shaking her head to finish the sentence. "You won't need legs if you have a fish tail."
Z snatched her hand back. "Don't," she said. "I can't - I'm not an idiot, you know. I know the things mermaids say to lure - I've heard all the stories. I always knew, all summer."
Tennessee let her hand drop.
Z looked away, to the side. Her fingers clutched in the folds of her skirt over her useless legs. "I know why you chose a wheelchair-bound girl," she said, making her voice hard to cover up her uncertainty. "You thought you could offer - well, I won't. I'm not that stupid."
Tennessee looked angry for a moment, angry and sad, as if Z was breaking her heart. Then she shrugged, tension rolling off her shoulders like water. She looked down, playing with a bit of her wet hair. "Maybe I just want to take you somewhere I can spend more time with you," she said. "Maybe I just want to touch you." She looked up, pushing a strand of hair away from her mouth.
Z couldn't look away. Tennessee reached her hand out, her fingers curling around the hem of Z's skirt. "I can't reach you," she said, and her eyes were huge as she stared up at Z. "I want to."
Z took a shuddery breath. "My mother - my mother thinks there might be a cure," she said. "In London. That's why we're over here - she's trying to get me an appointment with this doctor."
Tennessee looked down again, her finger tracing over the black patent leather of Z's shoe. Z couldn't feel it but it still made her shiver. "There are currents you can ride, in the deep ocean," Tennessee said. "You just point your toes and lie back and you coast by as if nothing was any effort at all. And when you come up you burst through into the sunshine and it's like the whole sky was made for you."
She moved her head and her hair slid across her cheek. Z's eyes slipped without her permission down to Tennessee's bare shoulders, to the inside curve of her arm. She wanted. "I know what you're doing," she muttered.
Tennessee surged up, her hands tangling with the wheels of Z's chair. "I only want you to say yes," she said. "You don't even like it on land. You hate your chair, and you're scared of this new doctor, I know you are. If you come into the water you'll be free. Say yes."
Z stared down. She bit her lip hard enough to hurt. "I'm scared of you," she whispered.
Tennessee smiled, slow like the sun filtering through. She looked as though she'd won. "Be brave."
Z could feel her heart thundering in her chest. She stared down at Tennessee, trying to see in her eyes if she was trustworthy, if she was true. Z wanted to see that, but Tennessee's eyes were as clear and depthless as reflections of the sky. There was no reassurance there. Z felt her heart rate speed up anyway.
She let herself think about the doctor her mother wanted her to see. Tennessee was right: Z was afraid of doctors. They poked and prodded her with needles and shocks, and they were so delighted when they found a nerve, when they made her hurt, digging at her legs. Z almost hadn't come down to the shore today, the spectre of a huge decision catching in her throat.
Tennessee rested her cheek on her folded arms, gazing up at Z. She was all cool skin and sweet eyes and sunshine on water, the antithesis of those close rooms and the doctors with their sharp jabs and hooded eyes. She was everything Z had always believed could never happen to her.
When Z thought of it like that, it seemed like the clearest choice she had ever made. She put her hands on the wheels of her chair. "I don't trust you," she whispered. Tennessee lifted her face.
"Will you catch me?" Z asked.
Tennessee smiled, slow and bright. "Yes."
Z snicked the lock on her wheels and pushed herself forward. The chair tipped and for a moment there was just water, terrifying and cold in Z's throat, her body a dead weight in the current. Then cool arms twined around her neck.