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Sam walked the seaside every morning. After he was done helping his sister and Tití baking the bread and pastries, Sam took the time between prep and opening to walk the ocean shore nearby, for the ocean felt endless, and there was something easy about the push and pull of the tides, the light breeze that felt cool on his skin, the sounds of the seagulls.
Today seemed a little different than usual.
“Do you…do you need any help…sir?” asked Sam, unsure of what he was looking at because it looked as if there was a merman in some net, flopping on the beach.
Sam had stared for a few minutes, trying to piece together fish half and gorgeous man top in his mind. It was a really weird and jarring thing to see, almost as sad as a beached whale once the fishman started to lose some faith, deciding to take the L and lay there in wait of sweet, sweet death. Which was when Sam realized he couldn’t just leave the poor guy to die on the beach when Sam could help the man.
The fish man glanced up, as if not at all convinced Sam could help, which made Sam want to prove the asshole merman wrong and do the best damned job he could to save his rude staring fishtail from that net.
“Yeah, you need help,” said Sam, bending down, starting to untangle the net, the merman starting to struggle once more, making the knots worse, Sam deciding to – well – to pet the guy a bit, adding as soothingly as he could, “Hey. Stop struggling. I got this. I got you. Let me do this for you.”
Reluctantly…the merman relaxed, watching Sam dubiously as Sam took off his shoes, his socks, rolled up his trousers. Sam glanced at how tangled the fish guy was, concluding that trying to untangle the man would be too hard to do and take too long, choosing instead to take out his pocket knife and cheat, cutting the man out. Sam moved the net away, starting to roll the man over to the ocean, the man seemingly too surprised to do anything as Sam kept shoving him before the merman said, “Hey, wait, just a – ”
The fishman was already in the ocean, though, far enough to not get pulled back again by the ebb and flow of the waves. The fishman blinked, seeing that he was safe now.
“See? You’re okay,” said Sam, starting to walk back to the shore before the man grabbed his hand, holding it, pulling Sam back as the merman said, “Anything you want, what your heart desires, tell me it and it is yours.”
Sam frowned at the earnestness of the offer, the want to do something to repay Sam. Sam was only doing what anyone would do, though. Who would leave this fish guy to dry up on the shore, stuck in a net?
“I desire nothing. You owe me nothing,” said Sam, though, the fishman didn’t seem satisfied with that, so Sam said, “I would be fine with knowing your name. I’m Sam.”
“Bucky,” said the man, grimacing, “That…that’s not really a wish though. Barely a desire…come back tomorrow. Come with a wish.”
And Sam wasn’t sure why, but he nodded, Bucky’s hand relaxing, leaving his own. And Sam went back to shore. And Bucky moved farther into the ocean. And the two parted ways.
And for a while, Sam came to the shore. Every morning, Sam would keep to his regular schedule of walking the seaside, finding Bucky resting lazily on a rock a little ways away.
And always, Bucky would ask, “What is it you desire, Sam?”
And in return, Sam would answer, “All I want is to talk with you.”
And despite the merman never taking that as the reward, Bucky would talk to Sam. They would talk about their families, their lives, the responsibilities they had to uphold; their greatest fears, their favorite memories; what they loved and what they hated. Bucky would make Sam laugh always, telling strange tales Sam rarely believed were true. And Sam would bring him pastries.
Baked fresh, experimental compared to what he usually made for his family bakery. He’d bring a raspberry crème fraiche tart with lavender honey; kiwi lime pie; meringue roulade with rose petals and fresh blackberries; goat cheese, honey, and rye crust pie; caramelized-honey nut and seed tart; everything but the kitchen sink cookies; red date cake; rhubarb galette with hazelnut frangipane; pear walnut upside-down cake; chocolate-pecan sheet pie with molasses. And after a while, Bucky decided that his curiosity was stronger than his fear of the shore, coming towards Sam to enjoy the treats the baker brought for him.
And the more Bucky seemed to enjoy the desserts, the more Sam was excited to try new recipes. And the more Sam went to meet with the weird fish guy, the longer he stayed, earning the teasing of his family and friends once he returned to the bakery, his travels to the ocean to meet a mysterious man becoming infamous in the village.
And after months upon months of this, Sam had realized something; something he was reluctant to admit because this was a weird fish man and Sam wasn’t even sure how a relationship would even work. But then, his Tití, his sister, hell, all the town had dropped hints that Sam should do something about the weirdo he kept meeting up with at the beach with the fish half.
So, Sam relaxed himself trying to make something perfect for the occasion, something interesting and loving and felt good enough for Sam and Bucky to celebrate with if Bucky were to feel the same. While his Tití and sister did the usual routine, Sam had asked if he could focus on something specific just this one morning, which they agreed to immediately, snatching glances of what Sam was doing as he created a blood orange olive oil cake with rosemary and lavender and a honey mascarpone frosting with fresh figs and pistachio atop.
He walked to the shore where Bucky waited, looking curiously at the cake as Sam sat down next to him, Bucky giving Sam the time to gather his thoughts; an unusual thing for Bucky to do, since he usually began their conversations. Sam was grateful for it, though, for Sam needed that time.
“I do not wish it,” Sam began, “For I don’t want to force this upon you, but I would like to be with you. Forever, if you’ll have me.”
And Bucky took Sam’s hand, his webbed hand feeling strange, a little colder than Sam expected, but not bad.
“If I could wish for anything,” said Bucky, gazing down at Sam’s hand, rubbing it with his thumb, so softly, filled with something that made Sam feel at peace, “It would be that.”
And Bucky smiled at Sam.
And Sam smiled at Bucky.
And they sat there like every morning; eating the cake Sam made especially for the occasion; talking about their lives; and ending their meeting with a kiss, parting ways until the next day.