No Longer the Louge

By all means, Warren shouldn't be enjoying himself, but he was, somehow. He guessed that when you were known as the tiny that is guarded so fiercely by so many proto-frames, nobody would both him. Knowing that he was safe made it possible for Warren to enjoy his spot perched on the bar top . A glass bucket full of a sweet red wine- a shot glass to the humans- and delightfully salty snacks and all he had to do for a piece of warm food was walk up to either Quincy or Arthur or Minerva or Velimir and just ask, maybe he would beg with his eyes and posture, but they were quite forthcoming with food. Everyone else was occupied with their drinks and their food and company that nobody really paid Warren any attention, he could happily sit and watch and listen to all these giant humans go about their business enjoying drink and each other without even being disturbed.

Well, only the big, partially metal-skinned proto-frames would give Warren attention from time to time. Occasionally, they would give Warren soft nudges or little pats when Warren went to go pick off their food. Arthur or Quincy would give a lingering touch to his hair or back or chest, and Quincy did once dip his head down for a quick kiss, but mostly Warren's been allowed to just people watch.

"Need a top up, little buddy?"

"Hmn?" Warren lifted his gaze, realized he was trying to look up at someone behind him, and had to shift around on his little bar stool made out of a discarded champagne cork. Velimir was talking to him. The man was another proto-frame, and Warren wasn't sure what kind of the Drifter's 'warframes' that he had been turned into, but he knew that the huge man had ice powers. And he was a huge guy, too. Taller than Quincy, and he had a hefty gut and bulging muscles and giant hands that had one cupped around Warren's back now, giving the small man something to lean on.

"I think I got my answer, since you're just looking at me with that cute little face of yours." Velimir softly cooed as he let his thumb fall a little to brush against Warren's flushed cheek. "Light weight is an understatement for you, my friend. You're more of a feather weight, maybe a fly weight. You're just having water for the rest of the night."

"O-oh! My drink." Warren hefted the glass up in his arms, trying to not splash any of the dark red liquid out onto his clothes. It was mostly empty, but there was still a good bit of wine left inside. "'M good. Promise."

"How about I finish that off for you and get you some cold water? I'd hate for you to be sick all over one of your boyfriend's hand later."

"No, no, I'll finish it." Warren hugged the glass to his chest. It was so hard to get your hands on alcohol as a tiny, and he wasn't about to give up his first real chance for some good stuff. He wouldn't let it go just yet. "Could I still get some water?"

"Sure thing, little buddy." Velimir gently tapped Warren on the top of his head and pulled his hands back, probably either getting water or handling another bar patron.

Warren let his eyes wander around the bar as he continued to sip on his glass of wine. It was so interesting to be able to watch these humans from so close without being afraid. He's really felt like he's changed since he initially became caught by these humans, becoming brave in the company of humans, falling in love with two of them. And so much of their base has changed around them since then as well, with more humans showing up, more proto-frames appearing, and even other tinies have made their home in this mall, deep in ruined Höllvania. It felt like there was a chance for thing to bounce back if the tech rot could ever be properly eradicated.

That would be the day. That would be the beautiful, glorious day. The secret about tinies were out, but maybe with the proto-frames by their sides, they could live among humans instead of in fear of them.

Across the bar, a glass hit the ground and shattered. For a moment, things were normal, and then raised voices came booming across the bar. Warren saw heads turn and Velimir swiftly walked away from the bar. Voices got louder, angrier, and both Quincy and Arthur were on their feet and walking towards the scuffle that was getting progressively louder. The humans were fighting now. Humans that had not been involved in the initial fight were now being dragged in one way or another. Another glass was smashed on the ground and Warren could see raised fists. The air was full of thunderous yells and promises of pain.

People watching was over, it was time for Warren to leave. When humans got to fighting like this, borrowers needed to not be around. He'd be killed too quickly and too easily if the fight drifted in his direction.

Warren tipped his glass up, taking many deep gulps before he had to abandon his wine and the glass it was in.

As he tried to stand, the decision to drink what was comparatively a whole bucket of wine slammed into him at once. His head did not feel like it was where it should be, instead floating somewhere over his shoulder and to the left, slightly above him, his feet would barely lift, his arms had to be occupied with keeping him balanced and upright, and his knees folded beneath him. Warren had to coordinate his movements, one limb at a time, to try and crawl away from the fight on his hands and knees. The bar felt like it was at the wrong angle, and the humans were getting closer.

Sol… humans were so loud when they were angry. One had another by the hair, Arthur had his arms around someone's waist and was dragging them, Quincy had two guys by the shirts, and the silverware was all floating around. Was Aoi here too?

A shadow passed overhead and Warren's body reacted before he could even think to look up and see what was casting the shadow. If he had looked, he would have seen someone had thrown some book and it was going to sail harmlessly over where Warren had been crawling and land on the other side of the bar, but he did not look. Instead, his body had decided on an instinctual level that someone was going to squash him and instead simply threw Warren's entire body over the edge of the bar.

His hand grasped for a hook that was not there. He tried to grasp a rope that was not there.

As Warren's weight did not catch on a grip on a rope, as he realized there was no secured hook, as he realized his hands and belt were completely empty, Warren feel straight down.

He hadn't even realized where he was going to be landing until pain shot across his entire body, followed very swiftly by freezing cold. Instead of turning into a stain on the floor mats, he'd landed in the ice bin. It was a huge, plastic tub that Velimir kept all the ice for the drinks, and now it was where Warren was most likely going to die.

All of the warm, pleasant, smothering blanket of alcohol around his head was violently ripped away, only left with the stinging pain of cold in every inch of his minuscule body. Gasping hurt, the ice-cold air stinging his lungs, scraping across his lips and throat. Everything inside of the small man was screaming in agony, and he couldn't even try to crawl to the sides of the bin. He just couldn't move.

An eternity must have passed by the time Warren had managed to regain enough control of his limbs to try and bring them back to his chest. Just that little movement made Warren slide, he hadn't realized his legs had been braced against another ice cube until he fell down between them. His hands were already numb as he tried to get a good look around. Ice warped the light, blurred his surroundings, but he could see straight up. The soft, yellow warmth of the bar's lights weren't going to reach Warren here, but they could bring him a slight comfort as the uncontrollable shaking began.

The world trembled, and a shadow fell over the ice bin. Warren flinched down into himself, but had to see if someone was there.

Silver hair, massive frame, booming voice, layered clothes. Velimir. It was Velimir!

"Ve-e-elimi-ir!" Warren had to struggle to not bite his tongue with the shaking. "H-h-help me-e-e!"

~

"Damn kids." Velimir growled as he looked at the broken bottles on the back wall. "New rule, everyone's gotta be over twenty to drink in this bar. I don't care the laws are different, I don't need teenagers getting so shit faced they start throwing shit."

Well, the bar was definitely closed now. And next time it opens up, it'll have a hard drink limit per customer. That book took out almost every bottle of whiskey he'd smuggled in, and the gin!

"Damn it! How am I supposed to make gin-lets now?"

He went to grab the garbage can from the end of the bar, but as he went to step away, he heard a squeak. Heart in his throat, Velimir danced back from where he'd just put his foot down, praying that he hadn't just stepped on one of Lettie's mice.

Nothing.

"Whew." Velimir's eyes swept the floor just in case. Mostly just spilled whiskey and broken glass. As he tried to return to grabbing stuff to clean up, he heard the squeak again. And it was a lot more clear that it wasn't a squeak. It was a itty bitty cry for help.

Warren!

Velimir checked where he'd last seen the little guy, and his little cork and wire bar stool was on its side and the shot glass of wine was tipped over. He was nowhere to be found. Oh, crap. Velimir hadn't seen Warren at all in the scuffle, and he was so tiny, he could be hiding anywhere. Quincy and Arthur were going to be so mad if something had happened to Warren when he'd been the one who'd seen him last.

"C'mon, little buddy, call out." Velimir ducked down to check around the lower shelves of the bar, listening hard.

An ever softer, stuttered cry for help sounded. It wasn't on the floor, or the bar top, but it was…. the ice bucket!

Velimir practically lunged for the ice bucket and peeked inside. It wasn't that far from where Warren had been sitting, but far enough and dangerous enough for someone so tiny it hadn't occurred for him to even look there until he heard the yelling.

Sure enough, wedged between a couple of ice cubes and shaking worse than a tree in a tornado, was Warren. Velimir quickly fished the little guy out and carried him out of view of the others. There was a bright red stain on his pants leg, and as he looked at it, thank Sol and Lua, it was wine and not blood.

"Are you okay? How'd you get in the ice bucket?" Velimir rubbed the pad of his index fingers over Warren's legs, checking for any signs of pain. "Did someone drop you in there? Pushed? Fell? Are you hurt? C'mon, little buddy, you gotta say something."

"S-so co-old." Warren was still quivering, curled up now in Velimir's palm, trying to push his fingers away. "F-f-f-fell. Cold."

Right. His hands were like ice these days. Stupid powers. He had to get Warren warm, right now, he was so tiny, he was probably already sapped of all his heat and here Velimir was, making it worse! Making everything worse, like he always does-

Velimir shook his head violently. He could still help Warren. His hands might be ice, but his insides were still nice and warm.

Lettie had told him that, in addition to the occasional summoning across time and space, being piloted by beings from outside of time itself, the additional powers, the crazy healing factor and all that jazz, that being a proto-frame like this had rearranged his guts and given him a weird little pouch in his belly that could hold onto small items safe and sound. Connected somehow to his lungs and his energy and all that. But long story short, it was a 98 degree room that he could get Warren to in seconds.

"I'll get you warm, little guy. Just hang on. I got you."

Slipping Warren into his mouth felt… oddly natural. And Warren didn't fuss either. As soon as he closed his jaws, he could feel how Warren was shivering, but actually he seemed to push himself into Velimir's tongue. It took a little jerk of his head back to slip Warren into his throat, and soon, the poor little guy was gone. Just a lingering cold feeling in his throat that was already warming back up. Somehow swallowing an entire little guy had been easier and more natural than dry swallowing pain meds. Just one little gulp and Warren was all tucked away.

Velimir laid a hand on his belly. "You good in there?"

It took an agonizingly long time to get a response out of Warren. But he was cuddled up to Velimir's gut wall and finally managed to speak in a way that wasn't stuttering and shivering. "I'm okay….. 'S warm in here."

"You just snuggle down and get comfy. I'll keep you warm."

"Okay… thank you… for saving me."

Sol, Warren was cute. No wonder Quincy and Arthur both had a claim on him. They'd probably wanna find Warren soon, so Velimir needed to get moving and get all this glass cleaned up. Once it was all up, he'd probably take Warren to Lettie to really make sure the poor guy was okay. Falling in an ice bin when you weren't even four inches tall, he was lucky to be alive.

As Velimir tried to get his mind back on the task at hand, he couldn't keep his hands off his belly. He could feel Warren being alive inside of his stomach. Well, not stomach, but he didn't know what else to call it. He was safe, and warming up nicely, and part of him never wanted to let the little guy back out. He couldn't get in trouble like that again when he's all safe and sound inside of you, after all.

It takes a few seconds for the memories to slot back into place—a quarantine room on the Calvary. AT-5. The mission.

The Captain finding out that he’s a shifter.

Jack.

“It worked. That’s all that matters.”

“Bullshit that’s all that matters! You fed our friend to a goddamn monster!”

He winces, jaw clenching as he curls a little tighter into  himself. That’s David’s voice, and he sounds pissed. Not that Simon’s particularly surprised, but still. He tilts his head slightly, just enough to keep an eye on the door through his hair.

“I am not doing this as your friend, Wright. I am doing this as your captain, and I will do whatever I have to for my crew’s safety.” The Captain snaps.. “So either you comply, or I will have to take drastic action. Your call.”

“Ava. You can’t be serious.” A tone of voice he’s all too familiar with.

“I am. Morning, C- Simon.” The Captain looks… less stressed. Behind her, David looks murderous. So not too far from normal, at least where Simon’s concerned. Oh well. He can take him.

“Mm.” Unsure if she really expects a reply or not, he just grunts, resting his head against the wall and dragging a hand down his face.

“Jack’s doing better. So… thank you.” His ears perk up slightly, gaze flicking towards the window instead of the blank, half-awake stare into nowhere he’d been locked into. Still, he can’t help but hear a ‘but’ in there.

David glares at her—they’d been shouting at each other, so not unexpected, but that was still the kind of shit that would’ve gotten him cuffed around the head or worse if he’d pulled it back-

A slight shake of his head. Doesn’t matter. He can’t go back, even if he wanted to.

The door clicks. He blinks, but stays in the corner where he is as she pulls it open, gesturing David in ahead of her. He scowls but obeys, huffing and rolling his eyes. Clearly not wanting to be here for… whatever this is.

But rather than following, the Captain shuts the door behind him with another click. The man whirls, eyes wide and jaw agape.

“Wh-”

“You’ve got more to do. His turn. I’ll be back in a few hours.” With a brief nod towards David she turns, footsteps disappearing down the hall.

“Ava? Ava! You can’t fucking leave me in here with him!”

Well, that’s enough to wake him up the rest of the way. He pulls one leg up to his chest and rests his arm on it, the sound of fabric rustling enough to prompt David to snap back towards him.

“Don’t ffffucking touch me!” He hisses, one hand extended to ward him off and the other scrambling for the door handle. Simon just watches, running his thumb over his fingertips, gaze flicking between the door and the other man’s face, wide-eyed and pale.

“Captain gave an order.” But he doesn’t move, still seated against the wall with his arm propped up on one knee. David yanks at the handle—it’s locked, of course. He doesn’t get free roam of the ship. “It’s not going to open. I’ve tried before.”

“Of course it’s not—do you really think we’re stupid enough to let the Butcher of Eden walk around freely?” David snaps back. Simon tenses, one hand balling into a fist and jaw clenching.

“Don’t. Call me that.” He growls, glaring up at the other man with his body coiled like a spring.

David just scoffs. “What? It’s true. I mean, how many people have you killed, B-”

Simon’s on his feet and across the room like a shot, slamming the man back against the door with one forearm crossed over his throat and his other hand pinning his wrist in place. He bares his teeth in a snarl, glaring at the man through strands of dark hair.

“I. Said. Stop.”

David’s eyes are wide, just a thin ring of blue visible around fear-dilated pupils as he tries and fails to wrestle his arm free. And then stomps hard on Simon’s foot instead, but the worn steel-toed boots he wears make that a useless endeavor, too. A tight swallow, his throat bobbing against the arm pressed against it as a look of quiet panic settles on his face.

“Well? Kill me already. I know you want to.” He hisses with a sickening grin. “That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“If I wanted you dead you’d be dead. There’s easier ways to do it than this.” Simon snarls back, lips curled to bare his teeth in return.

David shuts up. Stares with something that’s not quite fear anymore, almost like he’s trying to figure something out. Whatever it is, Simon doesn’t really give a shit. He’s been given a job, and he intends to make himself useful. Useful things don’t get thrown out.

Useful things don’t get left behind to die.

He reaches, feeling that same dizzying cracking, pulling sensation, and between one blink and the next David vanishes. Or- not vanished, not really, because the next second brings a quiet, drawn-out shriek to his ears.

David, standing just over six inches tall, scrambles away from him on the floor. He immediately bolts for the door, but there’s no escape there—Simon had clawed for a gap on his first day being locked in here, and there wasn’t one. The door was sealed well enough he could barely slip a fingernail under it.

He drops to one knee, watching the tiny man search desperately for an exit that doesn’t exist. Honestly, it’s a little pathetic. He should already know it wasn’t dangerous, he’d seen Simon cough Jack up yesterday. Not only unharmed, but in better condition than he’d been before.

Though he has to admit, he wouldn’t be all too willing to be swallowed alive, either. Came a bit too close to that a few times already, and it’s not an experience he’d like to repeat.

With a sigh Simon reaches out, scooping the man off the floor with a grip tight enough to be secure but careful enough not to crush, lifting him up level with his face.

“I bet you’re enjoying this, fucking- Edenite bastard.” David snarls, squirming and shoving at his fingers—not that it does anything, really.

“You know, that’s the first true thing you’ve said about me yet. I am a bastard.” Simon huffs, the corner of his mouth quirking into a brief smirk. His hold shifts, loosening to pinch carefully around the little man’s chest with two fingers and his thumb. David yelps, his shoving suddenly turning to frantically clawing at his skin for a handhold as he’s left dangling in the air.

“Gghhhfffff- put me down!” He kicks his legs fruitlessly, still clinging tight to the fingers holding him but unwilling to give up the fight entirely. “Fucking freak!”

“Insulting someone who can already kick your ass normally. Smart.” Simon huffs, fixing the man with a flat stare before lifting him up a little higher. “No wonder you Cogs are all dying out.”

“And whose fucking fault is that, B-” Yeah, he’s done with this. David cuts himself off with a shriek as Simon opens his mouth wide and squeezes his eyes shut, tongue laid carefully over his teeth before he shoves the man inside. 

He tastes like sweat and metal too, but much less potent than Jack. And there’s something else beneath it, something green and herbal with a sharp, sweet, acidic taste wound through it. He’s also bigger than Jack, big enough that it’s difficult for Simon to fit him all the way in his mouth, especially with how much he’s struggling. With a rumble low in his throat, he presses the squirming man against the roof of his mouth with his tongue—ignoring the strangled yelp it forces from him, shoving against his face in a feeble attempt to break free—and tips his head back before swallowing lightly.

“Shit!” David shrieks, tiny hands scrambling fruitlessly over his lips and teeth for something to hold onto as he’s dragged backwards, sealed in his throat up to his hips. “No no no no no- you can’t- let me go!”

He can, actually. All the little man’s fighting amounts to is a strange wriggling feeling in his throat, a fluttering scrabble in his mouth, and the growing urge to swallow again to clear the blockage. So that’s exactly what he does, cutting off David’s protests mid-word. His struggles turn frantic but even that’s not enough to save him, just stirs that same live-wire feeling as he becomes little more than a wiggling lump in his throat, sliding slowly down into Simon’s chest despite his thrashing.

“Captain gave an order.” He murmurs, hunching over himself with a shudder and finally blinking his eyes open. His arms curl tightly around his middle, the just-verging-on-painful stretch inching further and further down until-

A breathless sound bursts from his lungs, lighting dancing under his skin as the warm, dense, squirming weight drops into his stomach. It’s- worse? Better? More intense than the first time, one arm bracing against the floor as he bites back his reaction to just a shudder that he can’t quite rein in. Nausea and sick satisfaction war with each other as he crumples on the floor, arm wrapped around himself like he’d been disemboweled.

“Fggghhnnn- stop.” He hisses, a desperate note in his voice. The movement stops suddenly, long enough for him to catch his breath, before a very pointed kick forces it back out in a wheeze followed by a quiet, muffled, but still audible shout.

“Yeah, right, just give up and let you kill me!”

“God in the fucking Roots- I’m not going to kill you!” He snaps, dragging a hand down his face. “Look- can we just agree that neither of us are happy with this? Cause I’d really rather not listen to your shit for hours.”

Another kick, and he shudders, swallowing the garbled sound that rises in his throat. It doesn’t hurt—far from it, actually; as much as he loathed to admit it, even to himself, the squirming felt good. It was just… overwhelming. Almost blinding with the sharp flares of electricity it sent rushing through him.

“... Fine.” David shifts, and it’s all he can do not to whine. Fuck, he’s an embarrassment. “But I swear to every god anyone’s ever believed in, if you pull any funny shit I will do my fucking best to make you regret it.”

“Yeah, sure. As long as you shut up and stop doing that.” The lightning-buzz has faded enough that he finally feels capable of getting to his feet, slowly pushing off the floor with one hand pressed against the wall for balance. It’s almost like his first time in Earth standard gravity, stumbling and shaking like a newly hatched chick with a body that felt far too heavy. But at least this time there were no judgemental eyes watching him struggle, searching for weakness. He manages to stand, then takes a few steps towards the cot. It’s the only furniture in the room, and it’s light-years more comfortable than staying crumpled on the floor.

Lying on the cot facing the door like always, he tucks one arm under the pillow, his other draped over his middle and his knees tucked close as he curls himself into a little huddle. Same way he’s slept for years, ever since-

A sharp, breathy sound escapes him at a sudden shove and he flinches, huddling even tighter on instinct, only to yelp at what felt like an elbow being driven sharply into sensitive flesh.

“Th’fuck was that for?” He growls as he shifts onto his back, feet flat against the cot with his knees propped up and hand curling into his shirt. Another bit of flailing sends a shiver down his spine, and he swallows dry to hide the sound that tries to escape.

“You were smothering me, you jackass!” David snaps, shoving against him and bracing to hold the position he’s put himself in.

Simon huffs, lacing his fingers together and staring up at the ceiling for a few seconds before closing his eyes.

“... Sorry.”

Mm. He could fall asleep like this. Comfortable, satisfied, warmed from the inside out. Even though he’d only just woken up and it was-

Well. He didn’t have a clock, actually..

“What, uh. What time is it?”

“Why are you asking me?”

He sighs, rubbing his temples and taking a deep breath. “Because there’s no clock in here.”

A pause and a slight shift, enough to make him clench his teeth to force himself to stay quiet.

“... About ten, I think.”

Huh. 

That didn’t…

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.” He realizes. He’d fallen asleep as soon as he’d gotten back to the room yesterday, and hadn’t woken up until that morning. David yelps, kicking and scrambling as if trying to escape and sending sparks dancing under his eyelids, a strangled wheeze forcing its way out of his throat from the overwhelming sensation.

“Don’t tell me that!”

Fuck. He can feel the guy shaking. His fingers curl tightly into the fabric of his shirt like he can- what, exactly?

“M’not gonna hurt you.” He mumbles. “It’s just… weird. I should’ve been hungry but I wasn’t.”

Just another sign of how fucked up he is now.. He’s alive, but every new change makes him feel less human.

“Shut up. Just- stop talking.” An audible deep breath, before he feels the man curl in on himself.

“Mm. In that case, I’m gonna take a nap.” He remembers the medics back on- back before saying something about sleep being important after a concussion. He’s pretty sure, at least, but again- concussion. Frustrating that that hadn’t been one of the things that’d mysteriously healed. Then again, he’d already had it when-

A brief flash of pain jolts through his head and he grunts softly, clenching his teeth and pressing a hand over his left eye. Alright, note to self, don’t think about… that.

“Wh- wait, what am I supposed to do?” David’s voice is a little shaky and he feels him move again, a slight shifting weight against his insides that makes him swallow what would’ve likely been another embarrassing noise.

“Don’t know, don't care. Thought you told me to stop talking.” He huffs, shifting a bit to get comfortable. One arm tucked behind his head, the other draped just below his ribs. Sleeping on his back isn’t the most comfortable—feels too exposed—, but he’s survived worse conditions. A brief pause, biting the inside of his cheek before he speaks again.

“... I’m a light sleeper. Shouldn’t be too hard to wake me up if, uh. If you need something. Just- don’t be a dick about it.”

Roots and Leaves, was it this uncomfortable for pre-Rapture shifters, too? He has no way of knowing—eleven years is a long time. Still he hears a faint hum in response and manages to settle down, staring at the ceiling for a bit before closing his eyes. Not being cold or hungry is leagues above what he’s used to.

Hopefully he doesn’t have any dreams. It’s better that way.

Footsteps. The click of a lock.

A hand on his shoulder.

He’s on his feet in an instant, fingers wrapping tight around his attacker’s wrist as he shoves them back against the wall. His head is still fuzzy with sleep but his body knows what to do, pinning them with an arm across their throat and his weight bearing down to keep them in place.

A sharp jab under his arm and an ankle hooked around his knee makes him flinch, stumbling and dropping to one knee as he curls around himself. Heavy boots, a stained white jumpsuit, and some metal object hanging from a black utility belt. Brown jacket.

The Captain.

Fuck.

He stays on the floor, head bowed and one hand lifted in surrender, the other still tucked protectively around himself.

“The hell was that.” She asks, brusque but not angry.

“Sorry. Had a lot of people try to kill me in my sleep. Made me a little jumpy.”

It’s not a good enough reason. He has to keep himself under control, has to be quiet and obedient and nonthreatening no matter what happens. She’d already told him what would happen if he hurt anyone, raising a hand against a commander was probably going to get him thrown overboard without even a stupid little life vest. He’d never learned how to swim. No reason for it on a station.

He’d’ve been whipped in front of everyone in the atrium and left to drag himself back to his quarters for it back on Eden. Muzzled, cuffed, beaten unconscious and left in solitary for a week in prison.

“Next time I’ll knock.”

His head snaps up, strands of hair dangling in his face as he stares up at her with confusion and surprise no doubt clear in his expression. She just gives him an imparseable look, arms folded across her chest, before jerking her head towards the cot. “Get up.”

He blinks, straightening up slightly with a heavy swallow. “Uh-”

“Come on.”

After a moment of hesitation he pushes up to his feet, shoulders hunched and head low. And then almost crumples as David kicks him, sending a jolt of lightning up his spine and whiting out his vision for a moment. When it clears he’s still standing, but leaning heavily against the cot, with the Captain giving him an odd look, her face slightly pale.

“What’s going on??” David demands.

“M’fine.” He mutters, shoving his hair back from his face and straightening up again. “Captain’s here.”

Her gaze flicks from his face towards his chest—somewhere about eye level for her; she only reaches about to his shoulder—before returning. That strange, tense, slightly pale expression still on her face. “Mm. You can, uh. You can let him out now.”

Oh thank fuck. He holds up a finger in a just a minute gesture before turning away and retching.

David yelps, squirming as Simon’s stomach tenses around him. He shudders at the thrashing, so much more intense than Jack’s had been, but with that same live-wire feeling leaving a trail of heat tingling through his nerves until the man is forced out into his mouth, already hacking and wheezing.

Simon’s already reaching for that tight feeling in his chest as he tips him out into his palm, grimacing at the puddle of spit and slime that spills out with him. In the next instant David is standing next to him, soaking wet with Simon’s hand still wrapped around his arm. Simon just huffs, stepping away and wiping his hand on his pants as David blinks in the light before his gaze fixes on the Captain.

“You fffffucking-”

“Wright. Go get yourself cleaned up.” She interrupts, pointing towards the door with an expression and tone that harbored no discussion. David bristles, hissing under his breath, but obeys after another sharp glare, stomping towards the door with a low growl.

Once he’s gone and the door slammed shut behind him, she turns her sharp gaze on Simon instead. “Any trouble?”

He shakes his head. The guy had been a dick, sure, but that wasn’t exactly trouble.

“Good.” She actually looks… somewhat pleased. With a tilt of her head and a gesture to follow she steps towards the door.

Because I'm incredibly mentally ill

And of course. It's a catch and release

When Batter woke up, the first thing he realized was that he didn’t remember falling asleep. The second, was that he didn’t feel the tug of his puppeteer’s guiding hand, nor felt their gaze on the back of his neck. And third, he felt stuffed.

Letting out a long exhale, the Batter sat up, or well, tried to. It was more of a struggle than usual, feeling heavier. As he propped himself upright, he felt something shift inside of him, and finally looked down at himself.

His gut was overstuffed and outstretched, his shirt unable to contain it as it poked out from beneath it.

Well, that had explained the increased weight and lack of hunger. Perhaps he'd fallen into a food coma and passed out.

Curious, he poked at his engorged belly, to find that there was something solid inside of him. It shifted and squirmed as he prodded at it, before a familiar yet muffled voice emanated from inside of him.

“Heureux de vous voir enfin réveillée.”

Batter stopped and stared, confused. That couldn’t be right.

“What.”

“Mon ami, you don’t remember, do you?”

Batter stared at his gut, processing not only what he was seeing, but feeling and hearing too. He pressed a hand firmly into his midsection, just to make sure. There was definitely some sort of humanoid shape inside him, which shifted in response to his prodding. It didn’t make sense, and yet was the only possible explanation.

“Oh.”

He'd devoured Zacharie, whole, and was somehow also unbothered by the whole ordeal, at least physically. He felt cumbersome at the moment, like trying to fight with the merchant inside him would slow him down.

“Get out.”

“Try not to trip over yourself, Seaweed Brain,” Thalia whispered, causing him to jump. Right, wonderful. One of his most annoying cousins was also part of said group and was also here.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Percy muttered back, “if I trip, it’ll be because you zapped me with one of your ‘friendly’ nudges,” which was met with a snort and another zap. At this point he swore he was going to get shocked one day and not even feel it. Another party trick, 'hey look at me, I can get shocked and keep going'.

Ahead, the Hunters were ghosting between the trees, silver eyes gleaming under their hoods. They moved like liquid through every obstacle as if they had the land memorized. Artemis was a few paces ahead, her silver bow drawn, intense concentration on her young, eternal face. She was in her 12-year-old form, which would occasionally shift into something older when there was a snap of a branch, like she was about to launch into protective mode. She was focused. Tense. Almost…worried? Then again, the goddess had always been protective over her group.

They were tracking something old. Big. Something that had reportedly flattened a dryad grove and torn apart a Cyclops like it was made of papier-mâché. For Percy, a typical day; for these hunters, some who looked very new, probably not so much. A lot of them looked young, but there was no guessing how old they actually were. He had met a 10-year-old who apparently had been 10 for a while, judging by how she spoke.

“So,” Percy whispered to Thalia as they moved, “how exactly did I get drafted into the 'no boys allowed' hunting party?” He thought that was kind of their thing, no boys allowed.

“You’re bait,” Thalia said cheerfully. “Monster likes demigods. Especially smelly ones. Lucky us, you’re the stinkiest.” Wow. Rude-

Percy opened his mouth to retort, but Artemis raised her hand. Everyone froze.

Then the trees exploded.

The monster whatever it had been before it was twisted into nightmare-fuel came barreling out of the dark. It was at least fifteen feet tall, covered in black fur and jagged plates of bone, with too many eyes and not enough legs, some of which were definitely arms. Something Percy had seen in the pit leapt into his throat.

Chaos erupted. Arrows flew. Thalia whipped out her shield, Aegis, flashing it toward the beast and stunning it for half a second, enough for Percy to summon Riptide and move toward the creature. No time for battle strategies, just to hack whatever nightmare this was down. Annabeth probably knew what it was and its weaknesses, but right now Percy was going to jab at it and hope for the best.

In the corner of his eye, Artemis moved like silver lightning, leaping and firing from midair, her arrows finding joints and soft spots. Which was epic, awesome really, but as Percy was discovering, his sword scraped off its armor plates, revealing a regenerative property.

“Eyes!” she barked out like an order. “Blind it!”

Percy didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped, slicing at the central cluster of glowing yellow orbs, yanking the monster’s attention toward him. Maybe that was a mistake; he realized that a half a second too late when it swatted him like a bug.

Pain exploded in his ribs. He crashed into a tree, then another, and landed hard on the forest floor, dirt spraying around him along with chips of wood and bark. The world spun. Voices echoed, Thalia shouting his name; Artemis’s clear command to keep fighting. Everything was spinning, and he could barely breathe.

Oh, this would be a stupid way to die.

Then darkness.

When Percy jolted awake, his lungs screaming at him as he gasped for air, coughing a bit, which only made the pain swamp his chest like a tidal wave. He wasn't on the forest floor surrounded by wood chips or in a crater; he was sure he had just been thrown through several trees. Instead, he was on a bed of soft furs, a faint flicker of what looked like flames dancing on the silvery walls. Was..he inside a tent? How did he get here? His head spun, groaning as he tried to sit up.

Soft white furs were spread across the floor. Silver light flickered from a fire that somehow wasn't a fire, casting dancing shadows across canvas walls that rose higher than they should have. The whole thing smelled faintly of cedar, pine, fresh snow, and something sharp and clean that Percy immediately associated with moonlight.

Which was ridiculous.

Moonlight wasn't supposed to have a smell.

Then again, neither was the Underworld, and that had definitely smelled like wet stone, old metal, and despair.

“Nice of you to rejoin us, Perseus.”

Percy let a startled noise out, kicking out of reflex, groaning in regret when his body protested with another wave of pain shooting through him. " U-ugh... what-what happened?"

“You were foolish,” Artemis said, but not unkindly.

“Brave. You distracted the beast long enough for us to strike its heart. You saved lives.”

Percy groaned, attempting to sit up again. Pain shot through his side like he’d swallowed lightning. Which, given how many times he had been shocked, he figured he would be used to by now.

“Lie down,” Artemis ordered. “You sustained some rather serious wounds.”

“So just a normal Tuesday,” he muttered.

By this point, however, he had pieced something together. He hadn't seen the goddess once at this point. Not in the slightest. The tent walls shimmered like silver cloth caught in a breeze. Shadows danced across the canvas despite the fact that nothing seemed to be moving. A mimicry. Something he had experienced way too many times at this point. Which meant.

"So...I'm guessing you're healing me?" Percy asks carefully. His pain had faded as he sat here. It felt less like bleeding out on the battlefield and more like lying in bed the day after, sore but alive. Silence met him at first before a sound that sounded like fluttering birds came from around him.

Ah.

Yep, he was most definitely inside a stomach right now- or less stomach and more like whatever Artemis assumed should be there. It would make sense if it was like the hunters' tents. If she was going to comfort her younger or new recruits, this would be familiar, safe.

"And others assume you have no common sense, Peresus."

Her voice sounded amused this time, fond even. Which was rare for a goddess who allegedly hated men. Then again, it seemed less like hating men in general and more like stupid men taking advantage of women. Which, fair, he always felt pure hatred for the guys who leered at his mom or took advantage of her. A sense of satisfaction settled at remembering Gabe's statue.

"I have my moments, but ah... thank you..I mean you could have just shoved some ambrosia in me and sent me back to camp." He says with a shrug, knowing she couldn't exactly see it. The space moved slightly, the tent fabric fluttering, much like wind was ghosting through. Probably a laugh, or a huff.

"You do not comprehend how injured you were. You needed a more in-depth method of healing." Artemis explains patiently. Not annoyed, thankfully, just exasperated, like she was trying to explain to a toddler not to shove their fingers in an electrical socket. Percy nods slowly, lying back down against the furs, closing his eyes.

Becoming an unwilling missile crashing through trees probably wasn't exactly a feat meant for humans- well, half-human.

"Still, thank you." There were few gods he genuinely respected; Artemis was one of them. She clearly cared for her hunters as much as a god could, at least. There was a pause of silence before the lights dimmed against whatever mimicry of fabric lined his vision. It was a different sensation of healing than his father's.

The sea had always felt energetic. Alive in a sense like crashing waves, urging him to get back up, to keep moving, to fight. Like having espresso for breakfast, lunch, and dinner

This...

This was quieter. Like moonlight on still water healing instead of strengthening. Sort of like sipping tea in front of a fire. The silence that had settled around them was comfortable, nice even. Time seemed strange here. The flames were wild and untamed, but seemed to repeat a cycle, like a memory of how fire should look. The shadows didn't behave properly. Every so often, the canvas walls would ripple gently, and Percy would catch glimpses of moonlit forests, snow-covered mountains, and star-filled skies. Every god and goddess always seemed to have a stomach that didn't even look like a stomach. This one reminded him of Aphrodite- no technical stomach appearance.

"For now... rest. Once camp is settled, I will let you out." Artemis murmurs, startling Percy from staring intently at the flickers of the fire. The light dimmed more, like the sun fading, the twinkling of stars appearing in the darkness that had spread. Percy was going to protest, but ultimately decided that it wasn't worth it. Fighting sleep had always proved very ineffective to anyone who had crammed him down.

When he woke again, he wasn't in pain anymore, blissfully thankful to the gods- well, specifically Artemis. At first he assumed he was still in the stomach- or what passed for one until he realized the tent had an entrance this time. One that one 12-year-old goddess stepped through. She didn’t smile, but her gaze softened. Something he had seen her do when interacting with the younger campers. It was weird having it directed at him.

"You seem in better spirits." She commented after a moment, her gaze ghosting over him, seemingly satisfied with his lack of injuries, which he apparently had a lot of. One glance down at his clothing showed exactly what all had been healed.

"Well, I am no longer actively dying... which is kinda weird for me." He answered, licking his lips. Oh, he would absolutely kill for water right now.

Footsteps approached, and Thalia ducked inside, holding a canteen. Thank the gods for some relief from his pain. He held his hand out automatically, already knowing that there was wonderfully wet water there.

“Hey, Seaweed Brain. You look like you got sat on by a god.”

“Did I at least look cool doing it?”

“You screamed like a startled dolphin.”

Artemis shook her head as she exited, but Percy swore he saw the ghost of a smile on her lips. Maybe the bickering reminded her of her brother. He was pretty sure the two bickered constantly. He took this moment to gulp down the water, feeling like a dried-up sponge rehydrating. Sure, the pain was gone already, but water always felt better.

“You did good," Thalia murmured after a moment, looking to the entrance of the tent, probably to hide the look of concern on her face. Her silver circlet glinted in the shine of the campfire that was no doubt outside.

"Awe, praise? From Pinecone herself, I must be in Eslisym." He says dramatically, smirking when she snorted, rolling her eyes. "Don't make it a thing. Jackson." She snaps, no heat in her tone.

He smiled, wincing. “Yeah… I think I’ll let you all handle the next ancient horror. I’ll stick to fighting my normal big bads.”

It was a typical day at the market. Outdoor stalls, many covered by awnings and tarps for shade, lined the street beside the harbor. Many of the vendors sold fish, freshly-caught just outside the harbor. The smell of fish was inescapable, sometimes insufferable, but the locals didn't seem to mind.

One of the locals did mind, in fact. He was at one of the market stalls, not as a vendor or a customer, but as a product. A tiny, expensive, living product. Warren was caught by humans earlier that morning, mixed up in a fishing net. He, like other merfolk, were sometimes captured and sold as exotic pets at local markets.

Passerby were mesmerized by him. He wasn't a typical merfolk, with his lower body being that of an octopus. Eight orange limbs stretched along the sides of a very small cup filled with seawater. He was originally displayed in a larger, glass bowl, but after enough escape attempts, the vendor had transferred him to a sealed container.

Regardless, Warren was not at all pleased with his situation. In fact, he was utterly terrified. This was something he had always dreaded to happen to him, after hearing stories about human beings capturing others of his kind. No matter how many times he tried to escape again, he was thwarted by the constant looks of passing humans.

Eyes. So many eyes on him. Yet so far, no one was willing to part with their money for him. He couldn't see the price tag, but he assumed it to be high. That did not serve to make him feel much better about himself, but… maybe he would be spared if he was left unsold by the end of the day.

The little merman had such limited space. He could hardly stretch his limbs out in the cup, let alone swim. If he dared to try and curl up and sleep, he was forced awake by the tapping of the vendor's finger on the sides of the cup.

Desperate, exhausted, and scared, Warren could only await his fate. And that was when he met eyes with one of the humans passing by.

He was big, taller than most of the other customers. Warren had never seen so many humans in one place before today, but even he could see that the man standing before him was larger than average, with a rugged, boxy jaw and short brown hair. He instinctively shrank back in the cup when their eyes met.

No… was he about to be bought by the human? No one else had looked at him with such… intensity.

The strange man stared at Warren a while longer before reaching across the vendor table and picking up the water-filled cup. His green eyes never wavered as he brought Warren right up to his face, staring him down.

Warren was frozen in place. He wanted to scream, to thrash around and escape the big man's grip. But he was stuck, trapped in that tiny cup. All he could do was plead with his eyes, his back pressed against the opposite side of the clear plastic cup.

John held the trapped merfolk up to his face. Long, sandy hair swept around the little one's head, and his honey-colored eyes were staring back at him, wide. John saw the label drawn on the white lid of the cup with permanent marker; "RARE Octopus Merfolk $800".

Well, he wasn't about to shell out that much money. Not when he could just take the little guy.

When the vendor's back was turned, John carefully unscrewed the lid. Warren's eyes widened. Wait, what was he doing? Shouldn't he be paying, first?

As soon as the lid came off, Warren's whole, tiny world was shifted- dumped from the cup into… no! The man's mouth.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Warren yelped, but he was quickly swept inside along with the saltwater.

John grimaced. Oh, it was salty. Of course it was salty! No matter. He closed his mouth and left just an inch or so of water in the cup as he screwed the lid back on and placed it on the vendor table as if nothing had happened. He walked away with a mouthful of water and one very frightened merman.

In hindsight, John wished he had had time to communicate the plan with the little guy first. He would set him free, of course, once he brought him back home and gotten him in a bigger aquarium to recuperate.

Warren was not aware of this plan, and used all of his many limbs to squirm inside John's mouth. He cursed at his rotten luck- of all the humans eyeing him up, he just had to get taken by the one that was hungry for an $800 merfolk snack!

John winced as tiny suckers gripped the inside of his mouth. He walked quicker, his boots thudding along the ground as he left the market to head back to his truck. The merman was tiny, sure, but he underestimated the grip strength of those eight little octopus legs.

Warren's oxygen was running out in the man's mouth, his thrashing only worsening it in such a cramped space, more cramped than the little cup was. But he had to try… he couldn't just let himself be swallowed.

And yet, the man swallowed.

John tilted his head back and gulped thickly, his throat pulling Warren down headfirst along with the salty water. His soft, slippery body made it easy, and he felt the little guy go down his throat. Good. John needed to get him inside his stomach for the ride home.

Except, he didn't make it down to his stomach. John coughed, wincing as he touched his throat. Oh god. The little octopus merman had a grip on his esophagus.

Warren felt himself get sucked down the man's throat. He screamed, then spread his arms out, using his eight legs to grip on anything they could. He felt himself halt in the human's gullet, no longer going down but… certainly not going up either. He was very much stuck in a giant throat, while all of the water he was suspended in was swallowed. That was not good for him, but… neither was being eaten alive. So Warren clung for life inside a giant man's esophagus.

John did not anticipate having such troubles with the little guy. He was tiny, almost entirely boneless! How did he mess this up? He took measured breaths and gulped in-between them, grunting with the effort of dislodging the sticky tentacles. Despite his large size and thick, muscular neck, Warren remained very much stuck inside of it.

Water. He needed water, a lot of it, to swallow him down. John jogged, now, his face full of worry as he hauled ass to his truck. Oh, the faster pace was not helping. He could feel the merman jostling in his throat, forcing an overwhelming need to gag. So John continued to swallow, despite getting the merman nowhere further down. At this point it was merely to stave off his gag reflex.

Warren was also panicking. He had been, but now even more so… trapped in an endless wave of swallowing that just squished him tighter in the man's gullet. What would happen if the human ended up choking on him? He couldn't bear the thought of being stuck in the big guy's throat or windpipe if he were to pass out.

"Let me out, please! I-I'm sorry!" He shouted, desperate to not go down, but with all of his efforts of sticking to his throat, he wasn't going up either.

John heard his pleas, hardly registering them as he reached his truck and dug out a bottle of water. He was aware that the merman was frightened and confused, but he couldn't just talk back to him. Not when he was lodged in his throat and couldn't see his signing. So, he tipped back the bottle and gulped.

Warren was washed over with cool, fresh water. It would have been refreshing in literally any other circumstance, but at that moment, he felt his suckers start to release. Oh no.

John groaned in relief as he continued drinking. The cool water soothed his throat and started to unstick the tentacles. He gulped several more times until… there he went.

Warren was swallowed down whole. His suckers relented under the pressure of water around him, and he was taken down, down, down the man's throat.

John sighed hard. That was rough, he thought. He felt the merman go down all the way into his stomach, where the rest of the water ended up. It was only slightly more roomy than the cup. John finished the rest of the water and hopped in his truck, one hand on his belly as he drove. Tiny little squirms fluttered against his stomach lining, letting him know that the merfolk still had plenty of strength left for the trip home.

"Hmmh." John muttered softly, patting his thick gut in reassurance.

Warren was definitely not feeling reassured. He was dumped in John's stomach, fresh water mixed with saltwater and mucous around him, forming a horrid concoction that had to pass over Warren's gills. He swam in circles, bumping into the velvety rugae that lined the man's gut.

This was it, then. He was swallowed whole, despite putting his best efforts in. Warren whimpered softly as the human's stomach sloshed around him, baptizing him in warm liquid that made him feel numb all over. All he could do now was wait to be digested, his limbs reaching out to cling to any surface he could.

Luckily for the little merman, John had no intention of letting that happen. His home was not too far of a drive, and his stomach had enough water inside that he wouldn't asphyxiate. Surprisingly, Warren had less room in the little cup he was displayed in for sale.

John pulled into his home, a cozy beach-type house just offshore. He swung his big legs out of the truck and walked through the door with his hand on his belly.

Tiny little flutters reminded him every now and then that the little guy in his stomach was alright. He got to work filling up a 5 gallon bucket with distilled water and salt, mixing it in until it dissolved. He then dropped a bubbler inside to aerate the water as well as a heater to bring it to tropical temperature. This would suffice as a temporary container for the merman to recover in.

John was well-versed in caring for aquatic life, and his home was filled with glass aquariums of all kinds. Though none of them contained merfolk or octopuses, he was quite confident that he could care for one.

Warren, meanwhile, was confined to a cramped, dark space inside John's gut. He could hear, faintly, the sounds of running water, but it was drowned out mainly by the human's heartbeat and breaths. No speaking, curiously. Warren assumed the human was by himself.

He was still alive in the man's stomach, so the little merfolk decided to try and speak up.

"Hello? Can you hear me…?" He called out while reaching around in the darkness for the stomach lining.

John paused, then submerged the hose in the bucket to make it quieter. He simply gave his stomach a few pats.

Warren jolted when a few firm thumps jostled his watery cage. So he could be heard! Maybe he had a chance of survival, after all.

"Okay, um, would you let me out, please?" Warren whined. He ached to stretch his limbs out and breathe cleanly again.

John hummed in response. He dipped his finger in the bucket to test the temperature. It wasn't nearly warm enough. The merfolk could go into shock if he was suddenly dumped from his warm stomach into cool water.

He couldn't quite communicate it to him, but John had to keep Warren in his stomach a little longer while the fresh saltwater warmed up. The big man grimaced, then, when he realized he should gulp down some of the salty water to replenish some oxygen in his gut.

Warren waited impatiently for the human's response. Why wasn't he just talking back to him if he could be heard? He was speaking a human language… maybe it was the wrong one?

Then he heard the man swallow a few times. Warren half-expected another unfortunate merfolk to enter the human's stomach along with him! But it was just plain water. Saltwater. The man actually drank saltwater… what in the hell?

"Hey, that's nice and all, but I really, really don't want to be digested…" Warren croaked as the colder water swirled around him.

John hummed. The poor little guy really thought he was just his snack, huh? He supposed it was fair. He was being sold at the fish market, after all. He smacked his tongue a few times, grimacing from the overwhelmingly salty taste before pulling up a chair and sitting down beside the bucket. He slid his palm up and down his gut as he waited, a small consolation for the aquatic captive in his belly.

When Warren didn't get a response back from the human, he started getting restless again. It felt like the big guy had settled down, rubbing his stomach to gloat. Oh, if only he did choke on him! It would have served his dumb ass right. Warren felt around for the entrance to the man's esophagus, panting in the little pocket of air that sat right up along the top of his water-filled stomach. The merman clawed at the sphincter, using his lower eight limbs to propel himself upwards.

John squirmed in his seat when tiny hands pried inside his stomach. He grunted in discomfort. That was not a sensation he had ever experienced before. It wasn't painful but it sure as hell didn't feel good. The little merman clearly wanted out! John forced himself to relax, concerned that he might hurt the little guy if his muscles spasmed.

Warren's efforts were met with surprisingly little resistance. He managed to get his head and shoulders past the strong ring of muscles that closed off the human's esophagus from his stomach. God, it was tight. How did he even fit down here in the first place when he could barely squeeze through?

While Warren continued to try and escape, John couldn't bear the sensation any longer. He stood up and paced around, trying to get his mind off of it. He wanted so badly to ask the merfolk to stop. So he inhaled and growled a simple "Quit it."

Warren froze as the human's deep, gravelly voice vibrated through his body. That was his first time hearing him speak, and it was the same language.

"S-so you can understand me! Why won't you let me out?" The merman cried, lowering himself back into the human's watery gut to breathe.

John felt the water's temperature again. It was warming up, but still not quite to temp. He wondered if he should just say screw it and cough up the little guy before he hurt himself trying to squeeze up his gullet on his own.

The man scooped some of the saltwater into a smaller container first. Then he stuck his finger down his throat and gagged a bit before bringing his stomach contents up in one go.

Warren was swept up along with all the water in the human's stomach. It all happened so fast that he felt like he teleported! After being surrounded by nothing but darkness for the past hour or so, he writhed uncomfortably against John's hand, now.

John groaned and swallowed, his throat stinging. But the merfolk was safe, just a sopping wet little bundle of tentacles in his hand, now. The rest of the water splashed on the floor beside the bucket… he could clean it up later. For now, he lowered Warren into the smaller container of saltwater first.

Warren twitched, his nerves all alight as he was dipped under water that was much cooler than the water that was as warm as a human's insides. God, he was cold. He curled up in a little ball on the bottom of the container that was in fact an old coleslaw tub.

John flicked the water and mucous off his hands, studying the merman in the container. He looked even smaller, all curled up like that. Impossibly smaller. And shivering, to boot. Sure, John had swallowed him whole and kept him trapped in his belly for over an hour. But he hoped that his warm hand dipped into the water and cupping around the little bundle would help.

Warren was furious with the human. He put him through so much stress, he felt like his hair was already falling out. Yet he couldn't resist pressing himself closer to that warm, submerged skin, wrapping his tentacles around the man's thick fingers. He shuddered.

John felt the shudder, the embrace around nearly all of his digits. He sat there, his hand in a recycled coleslaw bucket, cuddling a tiny merfolk that was taken from cup, to stomach, and finally to this. He was glad he released him when he did, looking back on it.

After another 15 minutes passed, John nudged the little guy curled around his fingers. It was time to transfer him to the warm, aerated bucket.

Warren just grumbled. He was comfortable, damn it. The human's big hand was hardly even warming him anymore, it was just nice to hug. It had been a long time since he had hugged like that. Yet, slowly, he released his grip on John's fingers and peered up at him from the shallow water.

"Thanks…" he said softly. Why was he even thanking the human? He swallowed him!

But… he did let him out. Eventually. Even if it was terrifying to get sucked up his gullet like that.

John just smiled down at him. He didn't expect any thanks from the scared little merfolk. His heart thumped as he held the small container a while longer, gazing down at Warren. He really was a pretty little merman, with long flowing hair and colorful, orange tentacles that curled and uncurled in a varied pattern, as if they were flexing fingers. John so wanted to touch him again, if he weren't so worried about getting him into a more oxygenated environment.

Warren couldn't help but stare back up at the massive man's face. He was smiling down at him in a way that would have been unnerving, if he wasn't already being treated so gently. Maybe, just maybe, Warren could believe that getting swallowed by him was the human's way of sneaking him out of the pet trade. Otherwise, he would have just left him to be digested… right?

John finally pulled his gaze away from Warren and dipped the little container in the bucket. He let some of the warmer water trickle in at the corner, slowly acclimating it. Then he dipped the whole thing in, and Warren was free to swim out.

And so he did. While the bucket wasn't the roomiest container, it sure beat being stuck in a display cup or… dare he say it. The human's belly. Even if that belly was much, much warmer.

While Warren swam around in the heated pail, John watched him a little while longer before pulling himself away to the kitchen. He pulled a plate of fresh fish from the fridge and got to work cleaning it in the sink.

Once Warren was more comfortable and feeling his energy start to come back, he peeked up at the top of the bucket, looking around for the big human. He spotted him across the house, messing with something out of view.

Once John started cooking the fillets in a pan, Warren finally remembered that he was hungry. Starving. The smell of cooking fish was so tantalizing, he almost wanted to climb out of the bucket and beg for some.

That turned out to be completely unnecessary, of course, as John plated up the fish and brought it back over to the pail to sit own beside it at a table. He eyed the merman in the bucket, who sheepishly eyed him back from the very edge, as he used a fork to cut up a small piece of fish.

John stabbed the fork through and reached it down towards the bucket, not putting it in the water, but just above. When Warren didn't take it, he shook it a few times, beckoning him.

Warren whined to himself, eyeing the food just above him. He had watched the human prepare it, so he was almost certain that it was safe to eat. He just… struggled to trust him, still. Why on earth was he being so nice to him?

His shyness didn't last, however, and Warren swam up to the piece of fish and grasped it. It slid off the fork easily and he took it under the water with him, taking bites out of it as if he had never eaten before in his life.

"Ohh, it's so good. It's so good." He hummed, using his tentacles to anchor himself to the side of the bucket while he ate a piece of fish that was nearly a quarter of his body length.

John hadn't even taken a bite of his own portion. He leaned on his hand, grinning as he watched Warren devour the little piece of cooked fish.

Once Warren had eaten it all, he looked up at the human watching him. He looked so… content. Just sitting there smiling at him. What did he want?

The human signed something at him just then. Warren recognized it as nonverbal speech, but… he had no idea what was being said. He just shook his head at the human.

John tapped his fingers on the table. He leaned away from the merfolk's sight and took a bite of his fish, then swallowed it before clearing his throat. "Name?" He asked, roughly, leaning back over to the bucket.

Warren pulled his head above water, clinging to the side of the container. He could breathe above water for a short period of time. "I'm Warren." He replied.

"John." The human said, nodding. He leaned away again to take more bites of his food.

Warren watched as John just sat down, eating quietly. He looked around the house for the first time, at least, what he could see from inside the tall pail. It was small, homely. The walls were an off-white color and lined with old fishing nets and dried sea stars. He trembled. The human, John, must have been a fisherman. Warren had mixed feelings about being in his house.

"Why did you save me?" Warren asked suddenly. "I mean, I guess you saved me. You did swallow me whole, but… hell, you didn't even pay the guy. You stole me."

John grumbled through a mouthful of food. He leaned back over and stared down at Warren with a sudden, intense look that made the little merfolk dip under the water briefly.

"It's cruel." John muttered. He gestured out the window. "Selling merfolk."

Warren watched John's big, muscular arms gesturing above him. "'Course it's cruel. But humans are bigger and stronger, and I got caught."

"I set em' free from my nets." John rumbled. "Supposed to. Some people just don't."

Warren squinted. He didn't believe that for one minute, humans adhering to some sort of code when it came to his folk. But, John did seem sincere. Perhaps he wasn't the type of human to capture a merfolk, but Warren had the misfortune of landing in the clutches of one who would.

"So you're saying that you'll set me free?" Warren asked. He noticed that John didn't maintain eye contact with him while he was speaking. "John?"

John just nodded. Then he shrugged as he stared out the window. "Or stay."

"Stay?" Warren scoffed. He looked around the man's place again. "Where?"

John shrugged again. "75 gallons, 90 gallons."

"You're talking about water?" Warren frowned. "You want to keep me in an aquarium like a pet."

John shook his head. "Not a pet." He looked down at Warren, finally. "Small roommate."

Warren's cheeks flushed. The way John was looking at him was… fond. Very fond. He had never considered being "roommates" with a human, before.

He let go of the side of the bucket and swam anxiously in circles for a bit. He wished he could see out of it, contained in a solid white plastic bucket with nothing but an aerator and a heater.

Warren sighed and came back up to the surface to talk to John. "Can I see the aquarium?"

John smiled and nodded. He pulled the wired heater and aerator out and picked up the 5 gallons of water like it was nothing.

Warren clung to the sides of the bucket as he was carried through the man's house. In a separate room not far away from the kitchen was John's aquarium room, lit up with lights under the lids of 5 filled tanks. His eyes widened, taking in the sights of beautifully maintained saltwater aquariums, all landscaped with rocks and corals and macroalgae. Colorful fish swam around, little reef fish that Warren recognized instantly.

"Oh, wow." He uttered, eyes glittering as they darted around. He didn't see any other merfolk in the tanks, just regular fish.

John looked proud of his setups. Each tank was meticulously put together by him, after all, to mimic natural marine environments. He was sure Warren would thrive in any one of them.

But Warren was unsure. Very unsure. John seemed like a nice human and all, but he couldn't forget that he swallowed him whole only a couple of hours ago. He squirmed against the side of the bucket, then turned to face John.

"They look very nice. But can you just put me back in the ocean? Please." He pleaded.

John's face fell a little bit. He set the bucket down and reached his hand in to scoop Warren up, only for the little merfolk to dart away from his hand.

Warren couldn't help but shy away from John's massive hand reaching for him. Even though he knew his skin to be warm and nice to snuggle up to… no! He wasn't going to let the huge man grab him and keep him in a glass box for the rest of his life.

John sighed and withdrew his hand, then picked up the bucket again. He walked it through the house and out the door, staring directly ahead as he hefted it over to the nearby pier.

The two didn't say anything along the way. Warren had to bite his tongue. He did feel bad for John, despite everything he had put him through. He seemed… lonely. But John did as he asked and carried him all the way to the shoreline.

John stepped across rocks until he reached the water's edge on the side of the pier. He tipped the bucket down and slowly lowered it into the water where Warren crept out slowly, a tiny splash of orange in the shallows of algae-covered rocks.

Warren swam out to freedom. A vast, cold ocean full of the unknown. He rose to the surface and slowly turned to look up at John, who was watching him with a pained expression.

"Be careful." John grumbled as his goodbye. He couldn't bear to think of all the predators lurking just beyond the pier that wouldn't hesitate to turn Warren into a meal.

"Thanks, I will." Warren said, then ducked under the waves and disappeared in the thick seaweed.

John stood on the rocks a little while longer, staring out into the harbor. His big hands gripped the edge of the empty bucket a little too hard. Then he exhaled and dropped his shoulders. Well, he did what he had set out to do, after all. The merfolk was free.

As John hopped along the rocks to leave, Warren peeked at him from behind the seaweed. The man's silhouette was distorted under the ocean's waves, but he could see well enough to know that he had gone back home.

And now, Warren had to do the same. He was released in a human's harbor, full of gigantic boats and hungry seabirds. Where was home, exactly? His lovely reef, where the water was crystal clear and the fish were small and colorful? Maybe he could ask John to take him somewhere more familiar…

No! John was a human! He needed to stay far, far away from humans, or else he'd end up in a little cup again… or worse. So Warren gathered himself up and swam through the seaweed and algae into the unknown.

Several days had passed, and each morning afterwards, John was seen sitting on the pier. Not too far out, just a little past the rocky shoreline. He often went out there to sit and watch the boats and birds, even feed the stripers that prowled the harbor for fish scraps. But he simply watched, looking out quietly before heading back to his home.

Then, one morning, a familiar voice called to him.

"John? Is that you…?" Warren peeped from below the pier.

John grinned and looked to his right. There, in the same spot he was set free, was Warren, looking particularly frazzled.

"Hey, I was thinking about your offer… and well, after much consideration… I've changed my mind." Warren said, averting his gaze from the human that looked down at him from the dock.

John tilted his head. He wondered what had happened to the little guy that made him come back. Nevertheless, he was very happy to see him. He got up and stepped down along the rocks until he could reach into the water to pick up the merfolk.

Warren squirmed as John's massive form approached him. He reminded himself to be brave, John was a friend! He even waited for Warren to come back… almost like he knew he would.

The merman didn't hesitate once John's fingers cupped around him. That same warmth as before, flooding through Warren's limbs. He clung to the man's huge hand, wrapping himself around those thick digits that lifted him out of the scary, big ocean.

John cupped Warren in both hands as he stepped back up the slope and started carrying him back to his home. He hummed happily, brushing his thumb along Warren's velvety tentacles.

Warren huddled closer to John's hand. Warm, so damn warm. His brown eyes glanced up at John's, who was fixated on him with a big grin.

"So… you expected me, huh? Even after all this time." Warren mumbled.

John shrugged. "Ocean's scary."

"I… yeah, it is. I lived in it my whole life." Warren slid himself along the man's palm slightly. "But, turns out I don't know how to get back home." He shuddered. "Too many close calls along the way, too."

John growled lowly and cupped his hands more tightly around Warren. He couldn't help feeling protective over the little guy.

Warren froze, then relaxed when he realized John wasn't going to crush him. He shrugged it off, forcing himself to focus. "S'alright. I still got all 10 of my limbs." He said wryly.

John glanced at Warren, mentally counting them himself. Most of Warren's tentacles were wrapped around his fingers, but he believed him.

The two entered John's house, and Warren was carried right back to the aquarium room. There, he saw the 5 saltwater tanks, and a 6th one that definitely wasn't there when he last looked.

"John…" Warren said in surprise as he looked up at the big man.

John's cheeks flushed as he looked away. Yes, he did go ahead and set up another tank specifically for an octopus merfolk. At least to the best of his knowledge. He had never kept an octopus before as they are solitary, hide all day, and escape everything. So, the tank was set up with live rock, fine sand substrate, and plenty of aeration.

"You tell me what to add." John grumbled as he held Warren at the surface of the water, just dipping his tentacles under.

Warren slid right off his hand and swam down, looking at all the rocks full of little hidey-holes. No other animals were in the tank, which made him feel so relieved. He couldn't bear the thought of escaping one more eel.

"It's already so nice! And there's so much space to swim." Warren said, turning to look at John through the glass.

John smirked and shook his head, pointing to his ears. He couldn't understand the merfolk's speech through glass and water.

Warren stared for a moment before realizing that. So he swam up to the surface and poked his head out of the completely open tank. "It's lovely, John! Thank you." He beamed.

That was all John needed to hear. He reached out and patted Warren's little head with the tip of his finger.

Warren didn't swim away. He clung to the side of the glass and let himself be petted by the huge man who hadn't stopped smiling.