yes hello have fenris getting a ~super realistic~ fish dinner for his mermanatee boyfriend so he won’t starve bc he refuses to kill things
Deep, endless blue stretched out beyond the drop off. Jewel-colored coral danced in the currents. Sunlight sparkled from the surface, golden fingers warming every surface they could touch. Davyn focused on all of those pleasant, enjoyable things, rather than Fenris swiftly decapitating a fish the size of his arm with a knife. The knife itself was orange and gritty with rust. Metal didn’t wear well in water, for whatever reason. But it had glittered in the light of thunder as it tumbled into the black from a sinking ship, and Davyn thought it would look perfect clasped in the hand of his mate.
“Fenris,” Davyn pleaded, looking away from the plume of red that billowed from the fish’s neck-stump. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes,” Fenris replied sternly. “I keep telling you— fish are nothing to feel pity for. They’re hardly aware of themselves while they’re alive. And everything else eats them.”
“Sure. I just. I couldn’t do… that.”
“Do what?” Fenris crossed his arms over his chest. The fish corpse flopped with the movement. Davyn grimaced.
“Just… I couldn’t cut off its head like that.”
“I get squeamish!” he exclaimed. “And when they look at me… They have little googly eyes, Fenris! I can’t kill anything with googly eyes.”
“You’re more sensitive to the plight of googly-eyed animals, who are going to be eaten anyway by far more vicious things, might I add, than you are to your own starvation?”
Davyn faltered. Fenris arched a brow.
Fenris heaved a sigh. Bubbles trickled from his gills and bobbed upwards.
“It’s called being a vegetarian!” Davyn protested. “What’s the matter with kelp? It’s nutritious-“
“And doesn’t have eyes to stare at you with while you kill it!”
Fenris sighed. He combed his fingers through his hair. It billowed white and fluffy in the sunny water.
“What will you do if, say, the kelp suddenly stopped growing? And something happens to me and I can’t hunt for you?”
“Don’t say that,” Davyn whined. Fenris coasted over to a wall of coral and started to pry sea snails off of the rock. He really loved that knife. He’d always said whale bones were better than human metal, but he took Davyn’s present gratefully and readily. He’d use it ‘til it wore out.
Fenris stuffed a handful of snails into his knotted rope pouch along with several fish he had caught earlier that morning. Davyn hated snails— they were weird and snotty. It was like eating a booger.
“It’s a perfectly real possibility.”
“No,” Davyn pouted. “I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about how you’re wrong about kelp.”
Fenris sighed, again. Snail shells clacked together in his palm.
“I never said it was gross-“
“But you won’t eat it.”
“Jesus, Davyn.” He spun and planted his hands on his hips. “It’s a matter of pride, now, isn’t it?”
“No. Yes? Maybe. I just. Try a little? I’ll even eat some of your weird fish meat.”
“It’s not weird. It’s good.”
“So is kelp!”
A nerve in Fenris’s cheek clenched. He breathed, counted down from ten under his breath.
“Fine. We’ll eat kelp and fish tonight. Agreed?”
“Yes,” Davyn said happily. He flicked his tail and circled Fenris so he could envelop him in a bear-hug from behind. Fenris squirmed.
“Stop!” he protested. Davyn didn’t need to see it— he could hear the smile in his voice. “Your chest hair is tickling me!”
“It’s grateful for your compromise. Each and every hair thanks you, Fenris!” Davyn sang. Fenris snorted and writhed around ‘til he faced his mate. Sunlight bounced off his halo of pale hair. He smiled. His eyes glittered deep green in the sun.
“Thank you,” Davyn hummed, resting his chin atop Fenris’s head. His hair tickled his neck, and his skin, soft and dark, warmed Davyn’s chest.
“What for?” Fenris murmured.