shipping | psl

Truth be told, Aziraphale was not a fan of boats in general, or of being out on the open ocean. Something about the depths made him uneasy, and something about the uneasiness always lead to nausea. He had an otherwise strong constitution, particularly for a soft scholar, a researcher, one who'd gotten himself assigned to studying sealife out in this tiny port town.

He'd been here for a few weeks now, and had made very few friends, preferring the solitude of his work. In fact, he'd spent most of his days inside, hanging up his paintings and taking notes out of books. But soon he will need to go out into the open sea, and get his hands dirty. Or, wet. As it were.

Today, he feels brave, and digs out the ramshackle dinghy that had been left for him from the previous owner when he'd purchased the cabin in which he lives. He thinks he'll overcome his fear of the water the way he knows best, which is to meet it head-on. He rolls up his sleeves and pushes the boat into the water, hopping in and...

...And rowing himself in a few circles before he figures out how the whole thing works, really. On the bright side, he's due to have very strong arms by the end of this assignment.

Out on the open water, he finds a sort of zen as he casts a fishing line with a little weight to measure the depth, all sorts of little tools and glass bottles to get plankton or algae samples home. He's scrawling in his notebook peacefully when, all of a sudden, one of his oars slips out of its holder and into the ocean. Oh, bollocks!

Crowley comes close to the shore rather frequently. After all, it's not unusual for his kind to seek out human companionship - many of the Chosen would assume human form and find a partner in the nearby village to grow a small brood to bring back for the glory and worship the mighty Dagon.

Crowley, however, is not one of the Chosen. He isn't even up for Consideration for such an honour.

He is, for all intents and purposes, no one of import.

He is also rather curious about the human in his little dinghy, and watches the proceedings from the safety of an outcropping of rocks. Not one of the fishermen, even with the pole - in fact, he seems more interested in the plants than the fish, and he keeps writing on those thin sheets of - well, Crowley doesn't know what they are. Those that sink to the bottom dissolve quickly, but he's caught glimpses of what appear to be words and pictures.

When the oar slips from its holder, he decides to take the opportunity to get a closer look. Diving down, he sees it sinking into the kelp, and quickly snatches it up, and propels himself up to the surface. He tosses the oar in on the side Aziraphale's back is turned to, before diving again to surface on the other, just to see if he startled the human.

A very pretty human, with curls like starlight and eyes like the stormy waves. Perhaps he'll hang about.

"That nearly went down like a hunk of lead," he says offhandedly, by way of greeting.

Aziraphale looks over the boat as if there might be some way to rescue the oar without leaping in, but then as if being spit up by a geyser, it makes its way back onto the boat behind him. He nearly jumps out of his skin and then approaches it slowly, hand reaching out warily as if it might burn him.

Then, there's a voice, and he really does stumble then, back against his boat almost knocking it over, eyes wide as the moon, breathing fast-paced.

Oh.

It's merely a swimmer.

"My goodness, I didn't even see you there. Thank you-- ever so much for bringing up my oar. You are really quite the swimmer, but you really did give me quite the shock!" He does calm down though, and he smiles at his visitor, his saviour. "Would you like to come on up? You must be tired from all that swimming."

He moves aside. "Come, there's room for two, and I'll gladly take you back ashore, Mr...?"

Crowley seems to weigh the proposition for a moment. Only a moment.

"Don't need to go to shore, but sure, I'll join you for a bit."

He hoists himself up over the side of the boat, and at first it seems he's wearing some sort of black, shimmering wrap around his legs. Except that it goes on and on as he wriggles and shimmies his way onto the boat (not entirely gracefully), and the wrap isn't, in fact, a wrap, it is a very long tail; rather like the sort one would see on an eel. He manages to coil most of it in the dip of the boat's floor, but a good portion still hangs off the side.

Crowley grins at the human, his yellow eyes bright with interest.

"You can just call me Crowley. What're you fishing for plants for? You gotta put bait on the line if you want to catch anything tasty."

Aziraphale is a little bit shocked and then, without even noticing, he reaches over to touch the part where Crowley's skin turns from human-colored and human-soft to eel. "That is incredible!" he exclaims. "Is that some sort of tail, meant to mimic a fish's, so that one might be able to swim properly? I can hardly see a seam!"

He then pulls his arm away as if having touched something hot. "I'm so sorry, how inappropriate of me. It's just... such an interesting and novel item to me, I am-- I am not attempting to be lecherous, you see." He clears his throat. "Well then, yes, just very quickly to shore then."

Then, he thinks it's time to dial back to the original question. "I'm not trying to catch any fish, by the way. Just trying to study them. I thought I might start with samples of the algae. I'm a scientist. Are you in the navy, Crowley? --Ah, how rude of me. My name is Aziraphale. I've just moved into town a few weeks back."

Crowley throws back his head in a laugh, his shoulders shaking with mirth, and the spade-like end of his tail playfully flicks water into the boat.

"It's not meant to mimic anything - s'my tail."

He unwinds it, only to coil it around Aziraphale so that the lovely human can look to his heart's content.

"See? Real as you are, Aziraphale."

He tests the name on his tongue, liking the sound of it very much. If he were one of the Sirens, he'd probably sing it as a serenade. But he isn't a Siren and so instead he just studies this curious human floating about over his kelp bed.

"Aziraphale the scientist. Those are like sages, right?"

Which meant Aziraphale must be very important. He looked healthy and well-fed, and his skin seemed soft and unworked.

"What on earth!" he exclaims, as Crowley wraps around him. Oh, goodness, no, this man didn't have legs at all. Or if they were, he was completely boneless. But then, how was he able to control the tail? It couldn't have been puppeted, and... despite how slick it felt in the water, was starting to warm him up.

"A s-sage? Yes, I suppose I am... like one. Are you... are you going to kill me?" he asks, suddenly concerned, because there's a merman on his boat and he's very beautiful - of course he is, of course all merfolk are beautiful - and very dangerous, and wow, he hadn't anticipated this today, or at all, or.

He was really quite hoping to live to his next birthday, get settled in, be less afraid of the open water. He thinks maybe that merfolk and sirens are of the same stock, using their wiles to attract the curious, and pull them down to the watery depths. But he has also heard tales that kissing a mermaid will allow oneself to breathe underwater, and his sense of self-preservation is finally kicking in.

"I'm so very sorry," he mutters, panicked, as he takes Crowley by the cheek and presses a kiss to his lips, only enough to leech a breath.

"...What? Kill - ? No! Dagon's teeth, n-"

Crowley's protests are stifled suddenly by a kiss. Oh yes, this is definitely closer to what he had in mind when seeking out a human. He'd been hoping for more conversation beforehand, but this is completely fine too.

His arms wrap gently around Aziraphale's waist as he pulls him close - oddly careful as he'd heard humans are very frail. And this one was a very important sage, which likely meant he should be handled with great care.

"Mm - that's very nice. But don't I need to - "

He gestures vaguely out to the distant ocean.

"- Bring you gold and jewels and things first?"

Oh, well. This was quite a lot nicer than he'd thought it would be, considering the fact that he thought he'd be pulled down into a watery grave with only his wits and the additional boon of being able to breathe without struggling.

He blinks. "What d'you mean, bring me gold and jewels? I've no use for gold and jewels, and I'm not some-- oh!" his eyes widen in realization. Ah, yes, the other sort of tale to be heard from the merfolk of the sea - the seducers. "Oh no, dear boy, I am no mate. Incompatible, you and I. I mean, you are presumably a man, yes? And I am a man, as well, I-- I know I'm not quite as manly as most of the sailors you might see out on the open ocean," he starts, gently attempting to unravel Crowley from around him. "And I'm very flattered, you see, because you're-- well, you're very attractive. The upper half of you, anyway, though I'm sure, if I were an eel, I'd be saying the opposite. Or not at all, eels don't talk, but, I..."

He's rambling. "The point is, I'm afraid you've got the wrong sort of human for um, mating. Won't have anything to show for it, nine months later." Not that he thought that mating was possible between a fish-man and a man-man, but well, there was possibly a reason that merfolk existed in the first place, and took on human upper halves. He wonders now, if centaurs are also real, and if they should've been borne from a man and a horse.

Crowley watches the human with interest as he disentangles himself from his coils. Such a shame - Crowley would argue he'd have quite a lot to show for it. Aziraphale was very pretty, and the status of mating a human sage...? He'd be boasting for years - perhaps even accepted into society instead of living on the fringes.

But he's not about to force the issue either, even if Aziraphale was the one to kiss him.

"No need for fretting, Aziraphale. Not here looking for a mate or dinner or whatever you're worrying about. Just got curious."

He holds up his hands, the universal disarming gesture.

"So why's a sage studying the ocean? What's so interesting about fish? You trying to figure out which are the tastiest? Because I can tell you now, it's salmon. Best you can get."

Oh, well. That was interesting. He was thinking that Crowley would put up more of a fight. They usually did, in the stories. Not ones to say no. But then again, Aziraphale had always quite thought it unfair, that sailors should blame sirens for drawing them to crash against the rocks, when they were just singing in their own territory.

"I do like salmon," he answers. "And tuna. Very good fish. Herring, when it's fresh, and even... pickled, yes. Mm." He supposes that human meat might not be to Crowley's taste, and may not be to his taste in another form either.

"But no, I'm just trying to study them to... study them. Don't your sages thirst for knowledge? For instance, we know very little about your kind. I'd love to learn more about you. We usually depict your kind as rather... voracious, for either food, or... a partner. So please excuse me if I've misjudged you. I understand we are usually known for exhibiting violence for sport, though I assure you that I abhor that sort of thing. I'm a pacifist," he says. "You aren't at all scared of me?"

"Nope." He pops the 'p' and puffs up his chest, as well as raising the red fringe on his black tail. A lovely display, he hopes, of how very courageous and handsome he is. Perhaps Aziraphale may reconsider kissing him again when he sees how pretty and well-kept Crowley's scales are.

"Not scared. Haven't seen a human around my little home in ages."

He settles down a bit when Aziraphale doesn't jump him, instead opting to give this lovely sage what he's thirsty for - knowledge.

"You aren't off though. Most of our interactions with humans are for mating. Or eating. Or both, when it comes to Sirens. The Great Old Ones think you're a hardy species and our blood's strengthened by mixing, blah blah blah, very dull stuff. But I'm not one of the Chosen for that sort of thing. Technically shouldn't even be talking to you, but who's going to know way out here?"

He rests his chin in his hand, eyeing Aziraphale up and down.

"Why'd you kiss me anyway? If you're not actually. Y'know. Interested."

"Do your kind kiss as well?" he asks. "Fascinating." He thought that was a purely human thing, to kiss. Though perhaps they'd learned it from the humans. After all, humans did like to kiss, even those "Chosen ones" who would lure them to their deaths.

He shakes his head. "Yes, sorry, I kissed you because I'd heard that kissing a merperson would allow me to breathe underwater. I don't know if it has to be willingly given or not, but you know. It was still when I had thought that you might want to kill me."

Crowley is indeed very handsome, though, Even without raising the fringe on his tail, though Aziraphale assumes it's some sort of display of strength, instead of a mating ritual.

"But that's not to say... I mean. You're beautiful," he says, not trying to draw Crowley's ire. And, he speaks only truth. "And fascinating." He gets the feeling that it is not improper for merfolk, to lie with humans, or to lie with other men, so he doesn't explain that it's frowned-upon in his society. After all, it is the 1800s. Progress has been made, but there's still much left to be had.

"You'd need to drink some of my blood if you wanted to breathe under water. Should've bit me instead."

He sounds just a touch sullen, slouching down into the dinghy. At least he knows why this human kissed him now.

But he also calls him beautiful, albeit in that sycophantic way many try to butter up the priests of Dagon. Perhaps he's trying to let him down gently. Or perhaps he wants Crowley to prove himself adequate. He'll start bringing gifts then, just to see which it is.

"I could help you with your work, yeah? Got nothing but time these days, and you're not going to see much up here in this - uh -"

He pats the side of the dinghy. "-You call them ships, right?"

"Don't worry," he says, watching as Crowley looks downcast. "I mean you no harm. I wouldn't have bitten you, not to draw blood." That sounds barbaric. He doesn't want to hurt this lovely creature, and he feels a little odd about studying him, since he has a brain that's quite like any human's. He's clever, and he speaks, and he has many thoughts.

"And this is not a ship. Ships are very big. This is just... a dinghy. I will be on a ship soon," he says. "For research. In a months' time, I've boarded passage on a ship going to Denmark. I'll have to come back soon after, I imagine." He can't afford to stay in Denmark, naturally. No pleasure, only business. "But it's sure to be very enlightening, and I can fill up all my slides!"

He smiles so wide, undeterred by Crowley's insistence that he won't see anything at a surface level. "But if you'd like to help, I'd certainly appreciate the hand. I can't swim, you see, so that's why I've got this pole. It'll help me pick things up from down below."

His eyes light up when he talks about his work. It's clearly something he's very passionate about.

"A dinghy," he echoes, listening intently to the human's explanation. A dingy dinghy, he thinks over and over. Perhaps he'd compose a clever little tune and sing it for Aziraphale.

He does puff up again, looking quite eager to help - perhaps Aziraphale simply hadn't seen how pretty and well-kept his red fringe was. He shifts his tail as well, so that the onyx scales glitter in the sunlight. Look, he thinks, Look how shiny and impressive I am.

"S'not gonna reach that far. What are you trying to get? I can go fetch it for you. And what's Denmark? And why are you sliding...?"

"Oh!" he exclaims, excitedly. "Well," he says, eyeing Crowley up and yes, noticing that lovely red fringe and those pretty onyx scales, momentarily distracted by them but trying not to be rude. "I suppose I can take you to shore and show you. I'll have to carry you in, of course, wouldn't want to damage your tail."

He doubts that he could slither on land, the way a snake does. It's a good thing Aziraphale lives in such a remote location by the shoreline, lest they be happened upon. But it was only once in a lifetime to be able to invite a merman into one's home, and he wasn't about to give up the opportunity.

"What do you say, come over for a drink? And I'll tell you all about the humans, and slides, and Denmark."

Crowley looks downright triumphant. A successful seduction landing him an invitation to Aziraphale's den! And he even gets to learn about clever, curious human things like whatever Denmark is and why Aziraphale wants to go there.

"Never seen where a human lives before. Or what they eat and drink when they're not out here. Here, let me get out an push - if you're going to be carrying me, seems only fair."

With a great deal more grace than he got in, Crowley dives over the side, and quite soon the little dinghy is speeding towards the shore.

Oh, wow. Crowley is sure a strong one, because they're back at shore much quicker than if Aziraphale had rowed them back, as he was planning to do, in order to show Crowley how self-sufficient and strong he is. He moors the boat to his dock and gets out, taking out his basket of supplies and then leaning over the side of the dock to offer Crowley a lift.

"Come now, it's not far, just that one over there," he says, nodding his head over. "Rather small thing, but it's enough to get me by." Obviously, he's temporarily embarrassed of his castle, which is somewhere in Denmark. Clearly.

Crowley hoists himself up onto the dock, and wraps his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders so he can more easily lift him.

"Don't worry about the tail dragging a bit. It's pretty long."

He did hope Aziraphale didn't mind getting his clothes wet - there was little chance of staying dry with an armful of sopping wet merman.

Well, he was already a little wet from earlier, so he wraps Crowley around him as best he can and carries him off, bridal style. He is quite heavy, but it's mostly because his tail is so unwieldy and slippery, that it takes extra effort to hold him still.

Yet, they make it back to the cabin, it's a very short distance, and Aziraphale manages to get the door open. It's a small, one-room space, and he gently deposits Crowley onto his bed, leaning over him only a moment before letting him go in order to go fetch one of what takes up the most room in his tiny little home: a book.

"Yes, here we go, Denmark." He opens up an Atlas, and shows Crowley a map. "This is the map of the world, and we're right here," he says, pointing to their little town. It's not even labeled, just a little piece of line next to the only labeled city on their island: London.

"And here's Denmark. It's a country where-- ah yes, here we are, Copenhagen. I'll be there for a day or two, and come right on home." He draws an invisible line over where the sea is, marked only by waves. "That's the ocean in between the two lands, do you see?"

Oh - he isn't expecting Aziraphale to be so nice and warm. Like a tropical current made solid. He may cling just a little closer than is truly necessary.

The bed is also a marvel; Crowley squirms around, cuddling into the covers and nuzzling into Aziraphale's pillow. Everything smells like the human and is just as warm and soft. As far as Crowley's concerned, this might as well be a palace in Denmark.

The map, however, is fascinating.

"It's like an inverse of our maps. Where all you got is waves and sea monsters, we got our cities, towns, territories and stuff. The land bits are pretty much blank except around the shores."

"Yes," he says. "That's just like the opposite of ours. That's fascinating!" he exclaims. He smiles at Crowley and then goes to get a pen. "Will you write down where your cities are? I'd like a full picture, if possible!" he says.

But maybe Crowley could get him a map, and he could study the material and get him a map of the land in return.

"I did say I'd get you some tea," he says. "Let me go put it on. Are you comfortable? Not too dry? I don't really have a tub, but I have a barrel bottom if you'd like. It'll be a little tight, but it'll hopefully do in a pinch, and the ocean's right there. Oh, are you cold?" he asks, looking over at Crowley and then procuring a jumper from his wardrobe, and offering it to the merman.

"Not - well, not off the top of my head. But I could bring you my maps. You'll have to wait 'till night to read them though - made for low light."

He shifts, rolling onto his side while his tail flicks to and fro. He wishes he could get up, explore around the cabin, poke at Aziraphale's books and knickknacks.

"And I'm alright for now. Can stay out the water for hours so long as I'm not in the sun," he brags. "What's tea, though? And why would I be cold? Your nest is lovely and warm."

He wriggles more into the covers, grinning his most salacious grin.

"You're very warm too, did you know?"

Crowley looks at Aziraphale quite indecently, and it makes him feel just a little bit colored in the cheek. Why Crowley finds him so appetizing, he might never know. Sure, he was very pale-skinned, a sure sign of nobility, and he had very delicate wrists and the bluest eyes, but surely there were other very good-looking mermen and maids more worthy of Crowley's attentions.

Or worse, perhaps he was just some conquest. And, truth be told, he was rather interested in the idea of getting to bed a merfolk, particularly one he would find himself attracted to if he were a full human - and, yes, he did sometimes have eyes for men sometimes, but only the very sensitive and artistic sort. And Crowley certainly looked like a muse, long red hair and pillowy lower lip, gorgeous lines of muscle from his strong swimming, and very, very shiny scales.

Oh, he's staring.

"Yes, well, I do suppose it's quite cold under the sea. Tea is a warm drink, it's very good for you. And am I?" he smiles, curtly, at the compliment. He's clearly unable to take one such as this from a creature who expresses interest in him where anyone else that might has steered clear once getting into conversation with him.

"Perhaps you just need a little warming up, is all. Ah-- have you ever seen a fire?"

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