Thereâs Home in His Eyes
Hereâs my pinch hitter work for the @voltron-ss exchange for @blue-gremlin! You requested mermaid hance and I was like,, , really excited to deliver. I hope you enjoy it! As a disclaimer, I tried to work in some of Samoan culture into this as an element of Hunkâs backstory and the plot, which I did my best to research and present in a non-offensive manner. However, I am NOT Samoan so if I have done ANYTHING offensive in my work please tell me and I will see to the problem immediately.Â
tw: minor character death
Hunk never wanted to be a soldier. He liked baking and fiddling with things in the garage, whatever spare parts he could bring home from the dump. He was smart, did great in school, but all he really wanted to just be a mechanic or a chef. He hadnât decided, and both were perfectly viable. He was more than happy to stay at home and help his mom. Hunk knew they struggled, they were a small family. It was just the two of them, his mom having to support herself and Hunk, who she claimed was destined for greatness as she waited tables and carefully counted out change wherever they went. His future was bright, and the hours he picked up in the kitchen at a local bar and grill helped sustain them well enough for him to get through school and hopefully even college. Then, his mom got hurt.
She was heading to her car after a late shift, and fell hard on a patch of ice. Her back got messed up bad, and they didnât have the money to get her fixed and back on her feet. It simply wasnât an option.
  Hunk sold his car to get him through the rest of high school, and then he was standing before the Marine recruiter and blinking back tears later that night when he was told heâd ship out as soon as possible. For all his time spent being careful, gentle with icing bags and screws, it had done him no good. Hunk was strong under the fat he carried. The football coach had tried for years to recruit him along with the wrestling team. Hunk had no taste for fighting, but at boot they shoved a gun into his hands and told him where to aim for best results.
  His salary went home to his mother, who wrote him letters asking after his health and happiness, that she was so sorry things were turning out the way they were. Hunk hunched over in the dark, ignoring the twinge of pain from the way the pen dug into his thigh he used as a desk, and dutifully replied with reassurances that all was well, things really werenât so bad, and of course he was eating well. Even if wasnât at the dinner table where they talked about their day in a tongue that was soft and comforting, something cooed at him before he could walk, he was fine. Hunk reminded himself of that as he ran miles every day and though heâd shoveled as much food as possible down his throat, it never seemed to curb his hunger.
  On family day, Hunk sat at a table by himself and watched everyone else receive hugs and kisses from eager mothers and siblings that though teased, had happy tears in their eyes. That night he didnât eat at all, even if when they ran drills the next morning he saw spots dance in his vision. His mom was waiting back home, and that gave him peace.
  He arrived home to find her ill in bed, but she smiled and gripped his hand and he told her romanticized stories of the hell heâd soldiered through. She was happy. Hunk had two weeks of leave before he went back for his second round of training. He cherished it dearly and kissed his momâs cheek before he had a friend drive him to the airport again.
  About a month into that, he received word that his mother had experienced some complications. She couldnât move very well on her own, but she had tried and something had gone wrong. Somehow she had fallen and hit her head, and just like that Hunkâs mother was stolen from the world without him there to even attend the meager funeral held in her honor.
  Hunk came home to an empty home that was only kept as it was because his mom had gotten it from their parents, who had already paid things off. Hunk wished he had the time to sell it. It was a painful reminder of all that heâd lost, but he was shipping out for work, real work, soon. However, Hunk could not simply leave without an ode to his mother. Theyâd talked about it for after graduation, but Hunk had been nervous. Tattoos were supposed to hurt so much, especially when he was going to get his done traditionally, and of course they never went away. Besides, the Marines didnât take kindly to them if they were in the wrong spots. Regardless, Hunk finally convinced himself, and after carefully poring over designs and regulations and parlors, he had a peâa.
It took weeks to complete and it wasnât as invasive, as expansive, as was traditional because of said rules, but Hunk wore his proudly. It had hurt like a bitch, and it had been expensive. Almost all his money that hadnât been spent since heâd joined up, but what else did he have to spend it on? It was important. Hunk gritted his teeth and held still. His mother would have liked it, and that provided more than enough motivation to see it done.
  Hunk was stationed in Hawaii. A base right on the ocean. Hunk did his work easily, and though he still wanted to be home, he was at least able to be a handyman on base. He wasnât exactly happy, but he was bearing it. All was at the very least calm, until one day spent down on the docks on a Saturday, off base. It was a quiet place, deserted mostly. The locals didnât care for it apparently. Lore said that there was monsters there, but of course Hunk ignored that. His mother had told him the story of the gods their people worshipped, but Hunk had a hard time continuing to believe in them as drill instructors barked harsh words and digs at his weight. He remained plush no matter what they tried, and Hunk was fine with that. His mom had loved to squeeze his cheeks and pinch the fat on his arm, even if now there was even more muscle to it than what had been there before.
  He sat at the docks, let his feet dangle in the clear water until a song began to fill his ears. It was soft and mournful, and Hunk found himself leaning in to listen. The world blurred around him, but Hunk ignored that. The song was getting louder, ringing in his ears while he breathed softly to try and hear it as best as he could. He could see something in the water, a flash of blue scales on a tail that was far too long to be any sort of normal creature. Hunk paid it no mind, not until he saw a tanned face with sharp, sharp teeth looking at him. Hunk jerked back, and the face looked equally surprised. He scrambled to his feet, something to use should the creature become aggressive. He looked in the water again fearfully, but it was gone. Hunk panted. Perhaps there was more to those local stories than he had previously thought.
  He went back to base quickly, and didnât tell anyone about what heâd seen. Hunk wasnât even sure what he had seen. Regardless, it was too late now. He slept fitfully that night, and the next day he didnât go to the same spot. The docks were newly off limits, so he went to the cove instead. Hunk took his shirt off and sunned himself on the sand, exposed his tattoo to the air, but he could still hear the song, faint though it was. He did his best to block it out
  Hunk eventually stopped going to the ocean, or at least the beach. He couldnât escape the song, and it made him miserable. He now realized just how sad it was, and every time he heard it, it made his eyes fill with tears. Hunk had already long ago cried himself out, but the tragic melody always coaxed more out of him. He hated it.
  Several months later, he was drawn to the dock again by that song, terribly beautiful as always. Hunkâs lips had pressed themselves into an angry line. He was going to find whatever thing was singing it and he was going to make them stop if it killed him. He would not be tormented by the tune that had memories of his mom running through his head, and all that heâd lost with her death. He strode forward and sat at the edge, waiting for that face to show. His fury was enough to overpower the wetness to his eyes. He kept careful watch over the water, but in the end it did no good. In an explosion of salt and forth the creature lept from the sea, and dragged Hunk along with him on his way back down
  Hunk wasnât exactly prepared.
  After the initial shock passed of what was happening, he fought hard against the clawed hands that held him. They were slippery underwater, fighting just as hard to keep ahold of him as Hunk was to get them off. The creature snarled, but Hunk didnât back down. He was running out of air, and the fight was going out of him. The creature pulled him down to the sea floor, expertly weaving around the coral and rocks, and Hunkâs world went black.
  When he woke, he coughed up a lungful of water onto the wet sand around him. What had happened? Hunkâs head was pounding and his mouth tasted of the ocean. It took a moment to come back to him, but when he did he panicked. Where was the creature? Had he somehow managed to get away? Hunk didnât know, but he fumbled around looking for a rock or something to defend himself with. His hand finally latched around one when he heard a voice behind him clear their throat.
  âWhat are you doing?â it asked, and Hunk jumped about three feet up in the air. He spun quickly, holding out his rock threateningly. For all his muscle and training, he wasnât sure what to do when he was faced with a creature that from the waist up, was incredibly human aside from the gills cut his neck. It stared at him with big blue eyes, while a tail a few shades darker lashed ominously behind it.
  âYou.â Hunk hissed. The creature raised a brow.
  âMe?â he asked. Hunk waved his rock threateningly, his panic gone for a moment.
  âYou know I havenât been able to come to the ocean for weeks because of you and your dumb song?â he growled. The creature, mermaid, merman? Hunk didnât know, and in his anger he didnât care, had brows that knitted together in confusion.
  âYou havenât?â Hunk grew a little red in his face.
  âYes, I havenât. Whatâs your problem, huh? Is there a reason I keep thinking about my mom whenever I hear it?â Hunkâs voice trembled a little. âCause if there is, youâre sick. Cut it out.â His emotions were sporadic, shifting from fear to fury to sorrow all in the blink of an eye. The merman had the credit to look a little bashful.
  âIâm sorry, itâs just how I cope. Youâre not supposed to be able to hear it. Most humans canât. Not unless theyâre homesick.â Hunkâs interest was piqued at that.
  âHomesick?â A cloud passed across the mermanâs face.
  âYeah, homesick, okay? I did something dumb when I was younger. I havenât been home in a long, long time. My family knows my song and they come near here every once in a blue moon. I donât know the way well enough to return on my own. I just hope theyâll hear it, and find me again.â Hunk let that sink in. Despite the fact that heâd very nearly been drowned by the merman, he felt for him.
  âIâm sorry. Itâs hard not having a home,â he sympathized. The merman said nothing, and its tail lashed in the water.
  Hunk watched him. He couldnât deny that there was a part of him that was still angry with the creature for making him cry so many times, and for of course trying to kill him, not to mention more than a little afraid, but he was calm for a few moments.
  âWhatâs your name, anyways?â he asked. The merman perked up at that.
  The merman tested out his name a few times, and hearing it with an unfamiliar accent was at first a little disorienting. When he seemed to be satisfied, Hunk cut in.
  âSo, care to tell me why you almost drowned me? Or rather, why you didnât?â Lance appeared miffed.
  âI didnât exactly mean to drown you,â he grumbled. âOnly a little, enough to scare you and keep you away from my dock. Nobody else comes down here, both because the wood is old and because Iâve been here long enough to scare them away. As far why I saved you, Iâve seen people with your kind of markings before. Theyâre strong, but gentle. My family used to swim in their ocean, eat their fish and examine their boats, but they shared without much complaint. They did not hurt us, not like others.â Hunkâs brow furrowed.
  âWhat, you saw my peâa?â Lance looked confused.
  âIs that what it is called? The black on your, ah, legs?â Hunk laughed. He said âlegsâ like he was a child saying a curse world for the first time.
  âYes.â He paused for a moment, and then took a closer look at Lance. His tail appeared strong, and its presence alone was a little frightening. Upon closer inspection, his eyes were so much older than their initial gleam betrayed. He couldnât help but wonder just how long ago Lance had seen the land where Hunkâs roots traced back to. He pushed that thought away. He wasnât sure he wanted the answer. Instead, he took a look around. While orignally, disoriented as he was, hadnât recognized his surroundings, now he thought he might be a little further down the beach then heâd been before. Hunk took a glance back at Lance.
  âDoes this mean Iâm not allowed back at your dock? Iâll stay away if you stop your song. Iâm sorry for asking, itâs just that it reminds me of my mom. Sheâs, well,â Hunk trailed off helplessly, and the merman looked pained for his sake.
  âIâll see what I can do.â He promised, and Hunk smiled. Home was gone, but it was nice to meet another who knew the feeling.
  âThank you,â he told him, and Lance slipped back under the waves with a flash of iridescent blue scales. Hunk pulled himself to his feet and began to walk, thinking that was the end of it, but suddenly a shell was thrown at his feet. Hunk cast a fearful glance out at the sea. He couldnât see Lance anymore, but the merman obviously had good aim. He flipped it over, and inside the shell there was a short message carved.
   âCome back when youâre ready.â
  Hunk was a little unnerved by the note he assumed was left by the claws that had dragged him into the ocean, but something in him warmed with happiness at the invitation. His cheeks flushed a bit, and he cradled the shell to his chest. Perhaps he didnât want to be where he was, but even just with the company Lance provided, he felt a little more at home.
