Sand. Dry land.

This was the first thing Leatherneck felt when he came back to his senses.

The second thing he felt were his camo fatigues still semi-wet, and stuck to his body. He had been in the water for too long. And the cold water of the ocean had been the last thing he'd felt touching his skin before losing consciousness.

He squinted. The sun had barely risen, the last star of the night giving out its last flicker before dawn's breaking. For how long had he been out?

He tried to remember the events of the last 24 hours, or at least until passing out in the ocean. He should have been dead by now, his corpse adrift at sea.

It had started as a mission like any other. Cobra had went on to repeat the 1985 Achille Lauro hijacking, but this time it had been with a famous line cruise ship holding aboard several high figures of the Congress. Cobra had demanded hundreds of millions of dollars in ransom for all the cruise guests, and, as usual, the G.I. JOE team had been called on the scene.

Things had went south almost quickly. Turns out Cobra had also developed some new laser rifles that might have added a few extra chapters in the Geneva Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons. Not to mention the explosives.

Right when the battle was about to end, an unexploded bomb on upper deck was about to go off, set by Firefly, or God-only-knows-who. Wet-Suit had been standing almost near to it, and Leatherneck had barely had any time to think before his own body had acted up and pushed the SEAL away from the upcoming explosion.

The Marine hadn't been that lucky.

The explosion had thrown him off-board, the last things he'd heard had been the loud boom of the bomb going off, the ringing in his ear, and the terrified yells of the Navy SEAL.

Then, his body his the cold water of the Pacific Ocean. And finally, it had all gone dark around him, seawater filling out his lungs and pulling him down.

The last thought he'd had regarded Wet-Suit: "I'm sorry."

Sorry for all the years we've spend arguing about the tiniest thing. Sorry for carrying on the "rivality between branches of the Armed Forces". Sorry for suggesting you to shave your pretty brown curls. Sorry for not saying that I actually liked you.

Then, it had all gone dark all over him.

But now, somewhat, he was laying on a deserted beach, his lungs burning, and his eyes re-adjusting to the dark sky. He had no idea why, but he felt like he'd just broken every bone in his body, and there was also something soft but heavy laying on his chest.

Then, he saw him.

Wet-Suit was crouched right on top of him, his damp curls sticking to his forehead, fear in his bloodshot eyes, and his mouth franatically moving in words drowned by the ringing in his ears. Water was dripping from him, running down his hair, face, bare shoulders-

Holy fuck.

Leatherneck's vision cleared enough for him to finally realize something.

Wet-Suit wasn't just worried about him.

He was NAKED.

Not a stich, not a piece of neoprene, not even the diving knife he'd always kept strapped to his left tight. Just skin flushed pink from cold or exaustion, the sheen of seawater glisenting on his lean, waxed, muscular body, bare buttocks glistening in the very first morning sunrays like two polished coconuts. That, and his strangely worried voice, inciting for him to wake up.

"...damn it, you idiot jarhead, don't you *dare* die on me," the fully naked sailor growled, voice leaning on the brink of crying.

"Jesus Christ-!" Leatherneck wheezed, scrambling backward before agony lanced through his ribs. He collapsed back onto the sand, groaning and coughing, seawater burning up his breathing system. Wet-Suit (still gloriously, bewilderingly nude) held up both hands like he was calming a spooked horse.

"Easy, easy! You took a hell of a hit when that Cobra bomb blew–you went under like an anchor. Had to drag you miles. Thought you were a goner-" he reached down, steadying the Marine while trying to reassure him everything now was (somewhat) fine. "I couldn’t... I had to get you to shore. Fast. You weren't breathing. I.. I though you..." the sailor sighed, carefully wrapping his bare arms around Leatherneck’s body, head resting on a shoulder, trying not to hurt him even more.

The Marine felt once again that soft thing pressing on his chest. He looked down. The soft thing laying across his chest was... a pelt, silver-grey with dark grey dots, still damp in some parts. The kind of pelt that could only belong to-

Holy fuck.

That was a sealskin.

And he'd seen that specific color of fur only once, in form of a seal tattoo on Wet-Suit's right shoulder, once when they were in the common showers.

He looked over the SEAL's shoulder. The tattoo was absent, as if it had never been inked on the shoulder. In his mind, only a question hovered: "How?"

"Froggy... the hell...?" Leatherneck rasped. "Explain."

Then the pieces clicked. The way Wet-Suit moved in water like it was air. The fact he'd often sneak off at night for swimming in the PIT's underground pool. The seals that seemed to follow their ops near any coastline.

"It's alright, you're alright! Your GPS still worked despite the water damage. Wild Bill is coming with Barbecue and he has my stuff, we can return to the Flagg and you'll get medical attention, and I... you... we can forget any of this even happened, really!" Wet-Suit exclaimed, trying to somewhat de-escalate the situation. It seemed as if he wanted to wash his hands of anything that might have happened during that long night.

Leatherneck stared at him, before blurting out: "Are you... a mermaid...?"

He had used that term because he had no other ways to describe it. If it's partially human, and swims like a water creature, and has some sort of tail, it's a mermaid. The irony wasn't lost. A Navy SEAL who was also some sort of seal-mermaid.

The SEAL dropped silent. A sore button had just been touched. Wet-Suit exhaled sharply, then—in a move that made Leatherneck's already-throbbing head spin—kneeled in a way that was entirely too casual for a man with zero clothing. He sighed. "I guess... it was time you knew. Especially as you're holding my soul in your hands."

"What? What are you-" the Marine asked, before the SEAL's finger was on his lips.

"So... the "mermaid" part. It's only partially right. I'm a Selkie, a seal type of merfolk. Funny story." He scratched his jaw. "You know how Celtic myths talk about seal-people?"

Leatherneck stared.

Wet-Suit shrugged. "Yeah. So."

Silence. Waves crashed.

"...You're shitting me."

"Wish I was." Wet-Suit gestured to the pelt. "That's mine. And in selkie terms?" He winced. "Kinda just proposed to you."

Leatherneck blinked.

Wet-Suit groaned, scrubbing his face. "Look, I panicked, you were hypothermic, and seal pelts work, okay? Didn't think about the implications—"

"Why?"

The question was heavier than the pain in Leatherneck's chest.

"I don't know." The sailor answered. "Guess I had no other choice. Couldn't let you fall to the bottom of the sea and leave you there. Because... I... You're..." the words died in his troath.

"Your uniform..."

"Had to remove it. Selkie tradition. Just pelt and normal skin."

"Do other JOEs..."

"Only Shipwreck, Spirit, Barbecue, and Hawk. And you."

The following silence was only broken by the sounds of the sea surrounding them. The seagulls' screeching. The waves crashing against a nearby group of rocks, or sighing against the surf. The sun coming from dry land was now bathing everything in a pink-gold hue, painting the two soldiers in a way neither of them had ever seen before.

It seemed almost romantic.

Almost.

The romantic atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of an helicopter coming closer. It was Barbecue and Bill, coming for them. They were about to witness everything. And when the Tomahawk landed, Wet-Suit and Leatherneck found out Lifeline was alongside their rescuers.

As Leatherneck was carried on a stretcher, and Barbecue tossed back to Wet-Suit his uniform, neither of them disclosed whatever had transpired on the beach. There was no need to. The journey back on the Flagg went on in complete silence, with Leatherneck still holding onto that sealskin as if it would disappear onto thin air.

When they finally landed on deck, Leatherneck took the pelt with both hands, and slowly lifted it up to Wet-Suit, now fully dressed. "Keep it," he rasped. "You... need it more."

Wet-Suit hesitated. "Leatherbrain, I don't think you fully know-"

"I do." He interrupted him. "I guess... I owe you an honeymoon, sailor. Heh." He joked.

Wet-Suit went to reach him after taking back his pelt—his own soul—before Lifeline and Barbecue stopped him, as the Marine needed quick medical attention. The sailor remained there, watching as his now accidental fiancée was being carried to the medbay. Hawk would have never made him hear the end of it.

A week of disciplining from Sgt. Slaughter passed. Seven days more, and the team would have returned to the PIT. Wet-Suit's sealpelt had returned to be the tattoo of said sea mammal on his shoulder. Words had spread quickly across the Flagg. Everyone now knew. They knew of Wet-Suit's secret lineage, and of his accidental proposal to Leatherneck. Hawk had even informed him that, despite his heroism in saving a comrade, he would have still been disciplined for at least a week for almost exposing his double nature to the enemy. This, in the week that had just passed.

But he didn't care about it, right now.

He just wanted to know if Leatherneck was alright. And if what he'd said about the proposal was true.

He still hadn't heard from him, or seen him. Hadn't had the time to visit him. He was now sitting on a crate in a semi-isolated corner in the starboard of the Flagg, watching the sun setting in the ocean. The same sun that had bathed him and Leatherneck in that pink-gold light at dawn.

If only he had kissed him then back then.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their troath behind him.

He turned around.

It was Leatherneck, still somewhat proven from the week before's accident. His arm was in a sling in order not to stress his still recovering ribs, and in the free hand, he carried a canteen full of water.

"Hey."

The sailor's mouth corner bent in a tiny smile.

"Hey."

A long silence, broken by the noises of life aboard the Flagg; followed by Leatherneck asking: "May I?"

Wet-Suit patted the crate on his right, and helped the Marine to sit.

More silence.

"So... that happened," Wet-Suit broke the silence. "Is there more things you..."

"The kids."

"What?"

"Kimby and Stevie. Are they...?"

"Only partially. They were concieved while I was in human form, and their mom was a human herself. She never knew."

Leatherneck offered the canteen to Wet-Suit, and he took a swig.

"Are they ever...?"

"They never will. Had they been full Selkies, they could have learned how to survive the sea. But unless they find their own pelts, steal them, or kill another seal, they will never be able to transform. And given that their mom died when Steven was little, I cannot leave them either. They need me. We only have each other."

Another long silence. Somewhere on the ship, Hawk was giving orders on how to operate the planecarrier's night routines.

The sun was going lower and lower into the dark waters of the ocean.

Leatherneck broke the silence: "What about me?"

Wet-Suit turned around, facing the Marine who had been his rival for so long.

"What...?"

"You have me. And... after last week..."

"You really don't have to do that."

More silence. Another swig of the canteen.

"But I want to," the Marine replied.

"Why?"

"Because," he sighed, "we've known each other for years. We know highly intimate things about each other that nobody else knows about us. I was even there at your wedding, and even when the kids were born."

Wet-Suit chuckled, low and heavy. "Guess you were always there, then. You've always been Kimberly's favorite uncle, after all." He took another swig, and gave the canteen back to Leatherneck. "I wonder how long it will take for her to call you "daddy". And let's not talk about Stephen."

Leatherneck looked at him. "Do you still want me to...?"

"Only if you want. We could wait for the next full moon, anul it, and-"

"No."

The following silence was broken by the noise of the tide crashing against the Flagg.

"You-What?" The sailor asked, perplexed and surprised at the same time.

"I want to make it official. Sure, it's the strangest proposal it could have ever happened. But it happened." He replied. Then, grinning: "So... wedding dinner first, or straight to the honeymoon?"

Wet-Suit laughed like he'd never did so before, and wrapped his arms around Leatherneck's broad shoulders. Their foreheads and noses touched...

...and then, they kissed, like they'd never kissed before then. The only witness was the wine-dark sea... besides Duke and Shipwreck, looking from afar.

"Finally," Shipwreck replied. "Took them long enough. Now what?"

"I'm informing Hawk and Roadblock," Duke answered. "There's a wedding to celebrate. Where is-"

From the shadows near their little corner, Shipwreck's parrot Polly squawked loudly. Both Leatherneck and Wet-Suit detached from each other, and froze.

"...Did that bird just—"

"Polly wants a COCKtail!" the parrot screeched.

A beat of silence. Then Leatherneck burst out laughing so hard he nearly cracked his ribs again. Wet-Suit just buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking.