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Sendak’s grip is tight around Keith’s arm, a parody of the way human lovers cling to each other. It’s more to keep Keith from reaching for the fur draped over Sendak’s other arm than to keep him from running off. They both know Keith won’t, can’t, run without his pelt. So long as it’s in Sendak’s possession, Keith is bound to him.
Sendak delights in making sure Keith sees it often instead of locking it away like most do with a captive selkie’s pelt. It’s a special kind of torture, Keith thinks, knowing exactly where his pelt is and never having the chance to take it back.
His soul calls out for the sea, never louder than when the pilfered piece of himself is in view. He’d slipped into human form to sate his curiosity, to see if land was the home he’s spent his whole life searching the sea for to no avail.
Instead of a home, he’d found a prison.
“Smile,” Sendak hisses in his ear as they enter the restaurant. It’s a nice place, one he’s taken Keith to before. Keith knows his role; Sendak wants to show off his pretty pet tonight and that means Keith is supposed to smile and pretend he is here willingly.
He’ll play along in the hopes that he will finally find an opening to at least touch the pelt currently masquerading as a fur coat draped over his captor’s arm. He dreams of being able to snatch it and run, tasting freedom for the first time in a year, but he’s learned to push those dreams down so they don’t choke him.
His fingers still ache with the urge to bury themselves in the plush silk of his pelt. His whole self aches with the need to wrap himself in his purloined skin and launch himself back into the sea.
It’s going to be hard to pretend tonight, he can already tell.
He puts on the thinnest smile he can get away with and Sendak drags him towards the same table they always sit at.
Keith watches as Sendak makes a show of draping his pelt over the back of his chair, the man’s smile edged with cruelty. Keith’s skin itches at the display. His pelt should be around his shoulders or safely tucked away, not out where anyone could touch it.
Anyone but Keith, that is.
He takes a deep breath and looks vaguely in Sendak’s direction, hoping it looks like he’s paying attention to whatever he’s saying while he waits for an opportunity to present itself.
Shiro shuffles into Arus , fighting the urge to duck his head or tug at his too-tight jacket. Six months back and he still feels uncomfortable around people in enclosed spaces like this. The light is low, giving the illusion of intimacy with the white tablecloths and the candles behind frosted glass. It makes Shiro tense, the abundance of shadows feeding his anxiety and causing his muscles to draw tight, ready to strike.
He’s only here because Matt promised him the best food in town in exchange for Shiro stepping foot outside of his house. It is a bribe, they both know it. The fact that Shiro accepted almost feels like progress. He speaks softly to the maître d’, letting them know that he’s here to meet Matt. He waves off the offer to escort him to the table in the next room with a polite smile, wincing when their eyes catch on the gleam of his new prosthetic.
Shiro drops his arm back to his side, clumsily curling his fingers into a fist. He’s unused to the foreign limb for all that he’s had it for four months. The way people stare at it instead of his face makes his chest tight and his skin prickle.
He takes a deep breath, pushing back against the rising panic, and releases his fist. It’s just dinner with Matt. The other people around don’t matter and Matt and his sister designed the arm, so he won’t be rude about it.
Shiro weaves through the tables, scanning the room for his friend. He spots a familiar wild mop of sandy hair in the corner and turns that direction. His gaze slides down to check his path and lands on a dark-haired man sitting at a table for two.
His breath catches as he takes in the sight. The man is gorgeous, all dark, silky hair and big eyes and delicate features. He’s slight in build but Shiro would be a fool to miss the strength written in the set of his shoulders.
The fluttery feeling in his stomach is a welcome change from his churning anxiety. It’s been so long since Shiro has felt anything like this but there’s no denying that he’s smitten with this stranger at first sight. He thinks if the dark-haired man wasn’t so clearly on a date with the hulking guy sitting across the table from him, Shiro might’ve actually tried to talk to him.
Matt’s going to be so proud of his desire to be social, even if he will inevitably tease him about this instant crush.
The dark-haired man glances up briefly. His eyes lock with Shiro’s and sends him reeling.
He looks sad . It’s written in every line of his face, in the pinch at the corners of his mouth and the tiny furrow between his brows. Shiro can read it all in the space of a blink because he sees the same expression every time he looks in a mirror these days.
He offers the stranger a smile, a little drop of happiness to hopefully ease his pain, and the other man immediately ducks his head, going back to studying the food he’s pushing around his plate. Shiro’s smile drops and he lets out a sigh as he nears their table. Should’ve known he couldn’t fix someone else’s sadness when he can’t even touch his own.
He doesn’t realize that his prosthetic has bumped into the fur coat draped over the back of the dark-haired man’s date’s chair until he hears it hit the floor with a thud.
Shiro’s face turns red and he immediately crouches down to pick it up, fingers tangling in the plush coat. “I’m so sorry,” he stutters out. “I’m not normally this clu-”
The man rises from his seat, looming over Shiro. He gulps, this guy is a giant. His prosthetic clenches in the mottled silver and black fur as he freezes, words sticking in his throat.
“You idiot ,” the giant hisses. He glares down at Shiro, eyes locking on his metal hand. His face twists into a sneer. “I guess they just let anyone in this place now. Do you have any idea who I am?”
Shiro swallows hard and he glances over to see how the man’s date is reacting. He’s staring at where the fur is clutched in Shiro’s hands. He flicks his gaze up to Shiro’s, eyes wide and almost violet in the low light of the restaurant.
Shiro’s never wanted to drown in anything more than he does in this particular moment, looking into this stranger’s eyes.
The giant is still berating Shiro but he isn’t listening. Candlelight reflects off the man’s dark hair as he carefully slips out of his chair and edges closer to Shiro. There’s desperate pleading in his gaze as he reaches a hand out towards the coat.
He has no idea why this sad, beautiful man wants the coat but it doesn’t matter. This is something he can do. Shiro tosses the coat to him without hesitation.
The man flashes him the brightest smile Shiro’s ever seen — a noonday sun beating down on a glassy sea — and mouths a thank you before he wraps the coat around his shoulders and flees like there’s fire nipping at his heels.
Shiro looks up in time to see the snarl on the giant’s face. The punch he takes when he moves to block him from following the dark-haired man is completely worth it. He’d endure much worse to see that smile again.
He gets in a few punches of his own at Sendak, as he later learns is the giant’s name, not caring even a little bit that they’re brawling in the middle of a nice restaurant. There’s some kind of instinctive hate boiling in his veins for this man and he channels it into his fists. Shiro isn’t usually one to make a snap character judgment, but he’s willing to make an exception tonight.
His smile is a bit bloody when Matt pulls him out of the restaurant and towards Shiro’s place.
“What the hell, Shiro?” Matt grumbles. “I know I said you needed more excitement in your life but…”
“Getting into a fight isn’t exactly what you had in mind,” Shiro finishes. He feels better than he has in weeks, though, high on a bright smile and violet eyes.
“Nope, but at least we know that the arm holds up to a couple of punches.”
“It was all for science,” Shiro says, making Matt snort.
They talk and tease while Matt helps clean up Shiro’s hands, bandaging his flesh knuckles and carefully wiping the prosthetic. He can tell Matt is worried but his mind keeps drifting back to the dark-haired man.
Matt gives him a hard look when he sighs one too many times. “Okay, what is it? You’re weirdly happy for someone who just fought a giant and has an icepack on his face. I know that a restaurant brawl wouldn’t get you like this.” He pauses, letting out a sigh of his own. “I’m not complaining about you being happy. It’s really, really , good to see, I just don’t understand.”
Shiro feels a smile slip onto his face. “Did you see Sendak’s date before he left?”
He tells Matt about the man with inkspill hair and twilight eyes and the way Shiro felt drawn to him in a way he hadn’t experienced since before the war. Matt teases him just like Shiro knew he would and the world feels closer to right than it has in months.
After, when Matt leaves and Shiro is left alone with his thoughts, he falls asleep with a smile lingering on his face and hopes that the stranger made it somewhere safe and is happy.
Weeks pass and Shiro doesn’t forget the beautiful man with the silky black hair and sad violet eyes. He can’t forget the flash of joy that lit up his face when his fingers dug into the plush fur.
It’s too much to ask a universe that is rarely kind, but Shiro aches to see him again. He tucks the hope away next to his heart, pulling it out and turning it around his fingers like a sea-smooth pebble on days when nothing seems right.
Sometimes, when Shiro needs to escape the walls of his house, he walks down to the ocean. There’s a secluded cove that he frequents, accessible only to those willing to hike down a semi-treacherous path.
He likes to watch the waves and feel the sun on his skin. The repetition of the surf crashing down on the rocky shore and then gently fading back out to the ocean soothes him. The warmth of the sun reminds him that he’s here and he’s free.
The time he spent in captivity left more scars than the slash across his nose and the loss of his arm. The sun and crashing tide do nothing for the marks littering his body but, some days, he thinks they might be slowly healing other wounds.
So he sits and listens and watches a seal play out amongst the waves and reminds himself that he’s real and he’s alive and he’s mostly doing okay.
Most days he believes it.
It’s been a year since the incident at the restaurant with the fur coat and the gorgeous man who made Shiro’s heart flutter, a year and a half since Shiro came back from the war and realized he didn’t know what home felt like anymore.
It’s one of those days where nothing feels right. He can’t quite make himself fit inside of his skin, can’t shove all his emotions back inside so he can continue pretending they’re normal and something he can deal with.
He goes to the little rocky beach he considers his and picks his way out to the boulder he’s found makes a semi-comfortable seat, shoes left back on shore. Shiro lowers his feet into the surf, willing the cold water to ground him.
He sucks in a breath and tries to focus on the seal bobbing in the water a good distance away. There’s almost always a seal in the cove. Shiro likes to think it’s the same one, that it’s maybe a bit like a distant friend who keeps him company on his bad days.
He knows it’s just a ridiculous flight of fancy fueled by his loneliness.
His breath stutters through his chest as he tries to hold back the tide. It’s useless. The anger and grief and frustration swamp him, a tidal wave of his own making rising up his throat and then crashing down on him, relentless and devastating. It feels as inevitable as the ocean pounding the rocks around him.
The tears come and they’re an unfamiliar, unwelcome companion but maybe, he thinks, they’re better than no companion at all. He lets them flow, hiding his wet, hitching breaths in his hands.
Seven tears drip down his chin and into the water swirling around his ankles. He doesn’t see them flash silver in the waves.
Shiro hiccups and raises his head to look out at the horizon. His eyes catch on the seal he’d been watching earlier and he sucks in a breath as he realizes it is charging towards him; a grey and black rocket spearing through the icy surf.
He tries to scramble backwards, knowing even a small seal can do him serious harm, but the rocks are slick and slippery and he doesn’t make it more than a step before the seal is closing in.
Shiro closes his eyes, bracing for impact. When it doesn’t come, he dares to look.
In front of him is the man with the silky black hair and wide eyes who has haunted his dreams since their brief meeting in Arus . He’s wrapped in the fur coat that Shiro also remembers from that encounter. Distantly he registers that the coat is the same color as the seal that had been charging him.
The seal is nowhere to be seen.
“Took you long enough to call me,” the man teases. His voice is raspy, like he hasn’t used it in a while and is unsure if it will work, but it’s achingly gentle. “I was starting to think you never would.”
Shiro rubs his eyes, sure that he must be hallucinating somehow. The man is still there, though, eyes unmistakably violet in the afternoon sun. He can’t look away, feels like drowning in those dark pools again. Somehow drowning doesn’t seem dangerous when it’s him .
His hair is longer than it was last time Shiro saw him and plastered against his head. Drops of water sparkle on his pale skin. Shiro sweeps his eyes over him, taking in the lean, muscled legs calf deep in freezing water. His cheeks flush as he realizes that the man is wearing only the fur wrap.
He must pick up on the fact that Shiro is still too overwhelmed to string syllables together into words, so he continues. “I wanted the chance to thank you,” he says, a shy smile blooming on his face. “I don’t think you realized what you were doing, but you saved me.”
“What’s your name?” Shiro asks, voice cracking. He has a million questions, but this is the most important one.
“Keith.”
“I’m Shiro.”
Keith reaches out slowly, giving Shiro plenty of time to pull away. When he doesn’t, Keith gently cups his cheek, thumb swiping through the remnants of his tears. Shiro lets out a shuddering breath, eyes closing at the gentle touch.
“I’m really happy to finally meet you, Shiro,” Keith whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the crash of waves on rock.
“You too, Keith,” he answers. “You have no idea how much.”
Keith feels like the man’s, Shiro’s , face is going to burn him. He’s so warm and Keith wants to press his entire self against him and soak it in. He takes his time examining him, looking his fill while Shiro’s eyes are closed.
His savior’s face is all strong lines and soft looking lips. A flop of white hair hangs over his forehead, a stark contrast to the rest of his hair that is as dark as Keith’s own. Pain and sadness linger in his features, even with his eyes — silver as the moon’s reflection off the waves — closed. He’s watched Shiro for months, hanging around the cove and treasuring the days that he showed up, even though it was obvious he wasn’t happy on most of those days.
Keith holds the memory of the smile Shiro gave him at the restaurant close to his heart, a handful of warmth for cold nights. He wants to see Shiro smile again, wants to be the reason for his happiness.
It’s why he’s stuck close over the last year, hoping and hoping and hoping for his chance. He feels pulled to this man, called to him as surely as the moon calls to the tides.
The last time he took human form ended in disaster. Keith’s fingers tighten on his pelt at the memory. He knows Shiro won’t snatch it away, knows that his heart trusts this man without even knowing him, but caution is still a good idea. He hadn’t realized that he couldn’t trust Sendak until it was too late, after all.
“You said I called you,” Shiro says. His voice is still rough from his tears, but Keith treasures it. “How? I don’t understand.”
“Do you not know the old tales?” Keith asks. He lets his hand fall to rest on Shiro’s shoulder, unwilling to do away with contact altogether. Shiro looks puzzled, so Keith continues. “If you shed seven tears into the sea, a selkie will appear. I stayed in the area in the hopes that I would have the chance to thank you.”
Understanding dawns on Shiro’s face, chasing away some of the sadness. “The seal that’s always here. That was…”
“Me, yeah.”
“You’re a selkie.” His voice is awash in amazement. “So back at the restaurant I…”
“Gave me my pelt back. Sendak stole it from me and was holding it, and therefore me, hostage.”
“Wow.”
Keith can read nothing but pure wonder on Shiro’s face at the revelation and his heart feels lighter with it. Not a trace of avarice or possession to be found. His eyes have barely even strayed to the pelt.
“Thank you,” Keith says again. “I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to have it back.”
It’s only because he’s watching closely and has his hand on Shiro’s shoulder that he feels the man shiver slightly. Keith registers that the air temperature is probably cold for someone who hasn’t been immersed in the water recently.
“You’re cold,” he says. There’s a momentary urge to wrap his pelt around Shiro, to protect and care for the one who called him, but he pushes it down. Shiro might be as different from Sendak as day to night, but Keith still wants to take this slow.
“Forgot to grab my coat before leaving today,” Shiro admits. He swallows and looks away. “Was caught up in my head.”
“I know the feeling,” Keith assures him. “But you should get somewhere warm before you get sick.”
Shiro looks back at him, that infinite sadness back in his eyes. “Will I see you again?”
Keith can see him bracing for rejection. He wonders what taught this beautiful, kind man to expect the worst at all times, if it has anything to do with the scar on his face and his shining metal arm. His heart aches at the thought. Someone like Shiro should be accustomed to smiles and love.
Keith hopes he can make Shiro see that someday. “Yes. I’ll be here whenever you come down here to the cove.”
Shiro still looks hesitant. “And we’ll be able to… talk? Without me crying first? Because I’d like to talk to you when I’m not having a really bad day.”
He smiles. “I’d like that too. No tears required next time.”
A matching smile breaks over Shiro’s face. “Okay. If it’s not raining, I’ll be back tomorrow with my coat.” He pauses. “Do you want me to bring you something to wear? I won’t touch your pelt but I thought clothes might… make you more comfortable? While we talk?”
Keith is entirely charmed by the blush high on Shiro’s cheeks. “That would be great, Shiro.”
Shiro nods. “Okay. Okay, I’ll bring something, then.”
“Go get warm,” Keith urges. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to Shiro’s cheek and then steps back. He gives Shiro one more smile and then pulls his pelt tight to him and closes his eyes, slipping back into his seal form.
The next day, Shiro shows up not only with overlarge clothes that obviously came from his own closet, but with a picnic. He and Keith sit and talk until the sun starts to dip low in the sky and Shiro has to leave.
It becomes a regular thing, them meeting up and spending the day together. Most days they stay in their isolated cove, but sometimes, after Shiro buys clothes in Keith’s size and shyly gifts them to him, they walk into town together. Shiro blushes all the way down his neck when Keith laces their fingers together as they walk.
Shiro introduces him to Matt and then to Pidge. Keith still prefers Shiro’s company over anyone else’s but he likes the Holts and thinks that maybe they’ll be his friends too, one day.
He learns that, before, Shiro’s worst days were the ones that drove him down to the shore and Keith is glad he gets to share in the good days now, too. He still treasures every single smile Shiro gifts him with, and notices Shiro smiling more and more. There’s more color in his cheeks and he’s less hesitant to reach out to Keith with his metal hand. The day he notices that, Keith pulls Shiro down for a kiss, wanting nothing more than to give him more reasons to smile.
Keith knows he’s in love with Shiro but he hasn’t decided what to do about it. He has spent his whole life looking for somewhere that feels like home. He never expected to find the foundation of that home in the slope of someone’s shoulders. Keith knows what selkies in love do, knows the gesture that should be made, but thinking about giving up his pelt, even to stay with Shiro, makes his skin crawl. He knows Shiro wouldn’t keep it from him, but the fear lingers.
Shiro knows he’s in love with Keith, too. His whole heart sings with it but he keeps the words locked behind his teeth. He can see the fear flash in Keith’s eyes sometimes. He feels it wrap fingers around his own throat on bad days when he can’t help but think that Keith will leave because Shiro is too broken and the universe rarely lets him keep the good parts of life.
Keith is the best part of life and Shiro is determined to make this work for both of them.
They’re sitting on their beach one day when Keith arranges his pelt to drape over both of their shoulders. Shiro hesitates before touching it to anchor it in place. Keith is stiff next to him.
“You’ve never asked,” he says, looking steadily out at the ocean.
“About your pelt?”
Keith nods. “Most people want to touch and keep it.”
Shiro watches him. “It’s part of you and it’s yours, Keith. I’m honored that you’re allowing me to touch it but I won’t ever do so without your permission.” He takes a deep breath and forges ahead. “I love you and while I’d really like for you to stick around, I wouldn’t ever force you to.”
Keith looks up at him, violet eyes wide and watery. He surges forward, kissing Shiro hard. “I love you too,” he whispers, pressing their foreheads together. “Of course I’m going to stay.”
And while they both share the same determination to stay together, they still have things to figure out. The sea won’t ever stop tugging at Keith’s bones and the war won’t ever stop haunting Shiro’s nights.
One of those nights, Shiro tells Keith how meeting him that first time made him remember what living felt like, about how he’d been lost in a fog so long he’d forgotten he even wanted to escape.
Keith knows bits and pieces of what Shiro’s gone through, cobbled together information from nightmares and what Shiro can talk about.
“You saved me,” he whispers to Keith.
“We saved each other,” Keith answers, pulling him into a tight embrace with no plans to ever let him go.
Two years after helping Keith reclaim his pelt, Shiro finds a little cottage by the shore and buys it. It's situated in a cove similar to theirs, almost as isolated, but with easier access than the precarious cliffside trail. It’s not much but it’s big enough for the two of them and the cat they rescue on one of their trips into town. They can hear the pound of the waves from the bedroom, from every room, and taste the salt in the air. The wind rattles the window panes but, even in winter, the cottage is warm.
There’s a hook by the door where Shiro’s coat hangs and one right next to it that is empty sometimes, and adorned with a beautiful, plush fur coat other times. Keith hangs it there when he walks inside and straight into Shiro’s arms, skin still damp and smelling of salt.
Their cottage is small but it’s warm and it’s full of love. It’s the home Shiro never thought he’d find again because he shares it with Keith, because Keith has also chosen to call it, call him, home.