Scales shifted in the cold water, anxious to escape to open ocean. Dim sunlight flowed down through the opening in the top of the massive cave, settling on the floor where rows of students sat, hair floating around their heads, gills pulsing slowly as they looked up to the podium in the front of the classroom.

Lance flicked his tail in annoyance. He was bored out of his mind listening to his teacher go on and on about responsibility and obligations. It wasn't the teacher, she was fine and he kind of felt bad for her, but he'd rather be somewhere else. What he'd give to be outside right now, flipping through the currents, which were warm today, racing towards shore where the rocks could hide him as he watched the humans from a distance. It was the beginning of summertime, tourist time, the season of surfers and girls in bikinis. He'd just gotten back from Spring vacation, which he'd spent with Allura and Hunk down near Costa Rica to visit Lance's extended family, but now they were back to California with its hot sun and Americans that liked to flaunt and were easily seduced.

Lounging on the coral seat, arms slumped over his desk, Lance looked up at the teacher at the front of the class, swishing around as she spoke, hands fluttering around her sides as she tried to contain her excitement. "It's your last year of school, students. You're almost ready to go out there, buy your first cove, and start working as a member of our society. You graduate right before we migrate, so we only have a few months left!". This was the end of her spiel, only a few more minutes until Lance could rocket out of the classroom. He was the fastest swimmer in his class, after all. Urging the sun to pass across the hole in the ceiling, Lance slowly started packing up his satchel.

Comb, a few spare earrings, scale tape, notebook in a ziplock bag, chapstick tube, a small conch shell, and his swim trunks, which were rolled up tightly and tied with rope to keep secure... everything was right in place. Lance watched his teacher glance up at the opening of the rock and he grinned to himself as she sighed and clasped her hands in front of her. "Well, I'll see you all on Monday. Have a good weekend!" Lance was the first out of the door, powering his tail through before his teacher could finish what she was saying.

There we go, finally. Lance darted through the complex of caves that made up the school campus, turning left at the kelp patch just outside of his history teacher's cave, then right at the bright pink coral patch before finally escaping the campus. He looked over his shoulder and watched for a few seconds as the other mers escaped out of their classes, tails sparkling and fluorescent markings on their arms and faces lighting up as they found their friends.

The underwater civilization was built so deep down that the brilliant sun was muted to a grimy, filtered glow above, but the waters weren't so deep that they were freezing. Lance pulsed on his fluorescent lights and, with a resigned sigh of bubbles, dove down deeper to the residential area. As much as he'd like to race up to the sun, it would have to wait for a few more minutes as he plummeted down to the neighborhood.

The school was built up much higher than the housing coves because it was completely naturally made, so even if someone did discover the caves, they'd just think it was some weird rock formations. However, the mers had built their own homes that had been passed down for generations upon generations, and the mers' belongings and household items were definitely not naturally made. Lance shivered at the thought of what happened to the few scuba divers that had ventured down this far.

He grimaced at the thought as he passed the guards that protected the coves. Their huge arms with ropes of muscles running down them held giant tridents, pointed tips razor-sharp. Their broad tails stirred the water with powerful strokes, the hackles that lead from the mid-joint of their tails up to the curve of their spines raised, the thin webbing of skin that connected the spines grey and sinewy. Lance nodded to them as he passed through their dark eyes, shuddering at their grey scales.

As Lance passed the guards, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he was able to make out the yellow lights of the tethered angler fish who provided light for each cove in the neighborhood. Everyone except the council members lived here, each family with their own cove. Lance flicked on all of his fluorescent lights, pulsing them lightly to let others know he wasn't a shark.

As he entered the complex, Lance began passing other mers with the same glowing patterns on their arms, necks, and faces. Most had satchels like him, varying in sizes. He knew the way home by heart, but outsiders would get lost in the maze of rocky crevasses.Sliding through the cold water with ease, pulling himself through the salty ocean, he was home within a few minutes.

The anglerfish by their opening was glowing, which meant Lance's mom, Elena, was home. "Hola, Mama!" Lance called as he slipped inside the cove. The rocky cave opening led into the living room; large flat rocks covered in soft green fronds of moss and algae, a rug of frilly kelp tendrils. The water in the cave was warmer, wrapping around Lance's scales with comfort.

Hanging his satchel to the rack that also held his mother's shawl and his father's briefcase, Lance inhaled deeply and tasted the flavor of something cooking through his gills. "Hola, mi amor!" Elena peeked her head out from the kitchen and smiled warmly. Her frame was large and full, the amber scales of her tail reaching up to cover her chest, unlike Lance's.

"I'm making clams for lunch, want to stay and eat with me?" Upon his sheepish smile, Elena sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "You're going to the surface again, mi hijo?" Young mers were encouraged to go up to the surface, getting their sun time, as long as they kept out of sight. As soon as they were completely out of the water, their tails disappeared, leaving them with legs, but if they were fully submerged, their tails would come back within seconds.

Considering it was such a quick shift the punishment for exposing your tail was banishment for the mer and death for the human that was exposed. Lance's uncle, Federico, had been subject to that punishment when he had shown his tail to his human girlfriend. Federico was sent to Hawaii to a large community of mers off the coast of the volcanic islands and his lover... Lance had never seen her lounging by the beach again. It was brutal, but the way it had to be, Lance guessed. He knew that he never wanted to be the cause of the loss of a human's life, that's why he was so careful when he went to the surface, always keeping his head above no matter what.

Lance had learned his lesson from his uncle, watching his father curse the council, then humans, then his own brother for being so stupid. As interested in humans as Lance was, as much as he flirted and flaunted, he'd never even dream of the possibility of exposing his secret. Besides, changing to legs kind of hurt anyways, a burning feeling in your thighs and inner calves and a sticky veil of nausea over your stomach.

On a happier note, the community wasn't all just death and punishment. The warm air around Lance reminded him of his love for the ingenious architecture of the neighborhood. The reason the water was heated was because the coves were situated on a rift in the Earth's tectonic plates where water was warmed by the hot currents swirling up from the chasm. The 'oven' was customary in each cove, a large hole in the floor that had boiling water bubbling up from it, the effect of holes drilled deeper into the rift. When Elena wasn't cooking with it, she shoved a giant slate of rock over the hole's surface that blocked the boiling bubbles, making the kitchen no longer hazardous.

Lance's two younger siblings, Sebastian and Carmen, who were twins at seven years old, were off at their own primary school. Lance knew that they'd be home soon, maybe an hour. They weren't allowed to swim home on their own until they were 11, so Lance's father, Carlos, would pick them up from school and swim home with them. Lance would have to be home soon after, as his mother didn't like it when he was late. He had work to do, chores for the community like weaving baskets and sewing satchels and collecting trash. He'd meet up with Hunk and Allura later to do them.

The community that Lance and his family lived in was pretty large compared to most groups of mers, who stayed in small packs and moved often to avoid discovery. The community held several dozens of families so they ended up staying in each location for 10 years. Lance had moved here when he was 12, and had moved once more when he was 2. He was 19 now, so they'd be moving again in 3 years. Lance's last home had been larger and he had friends because they were located at a popular current intersection where groups often came to rest for a few months, but it wasn't warm like California and they weren't close to the shore so Lance had never seen a human until they moved to their current home.

Lance let his mind wander through this as he helped his mother with the clams for a while, then snapped out of his daze and kissed her on the cheek, grabbed his satchel, and rocketed outside.

Up, up, up.

...

The sound of Keith's car trunk closing was satisfying. Thunk. Holding his surfboard under his arm, he threw the keys of his Jeep into his bag, then jogged down to the crowded beach. It was late afternoon and the hot sun beat down on Keith's freckled shoulders and dark hair. People were everywhere, but the ocean wasn't as crowded as Keith had thought it would be, which was a relief. He smiled to himself at the giant waves that threw themselves into the air, then crashing down on the wet sand with a boom. The blue crescents arched over the heads of the swimmers, who screamed gleefully.

Keith looked to the far left of the beach and spotted another few surfers riding waves, but other than that, there was no one with a 7'2" board and a wetsuit on this side of the beach. Kicking off his flip-flops at the end of the boardwalk, Keith weaved through beach-goers on towels and chairs, girls with skin so bronze from tanning they looked like mahogany statues, men with chiseled chests and fuckboy haircuts, they all made Keith want to roll his eyes. He set his bag and towel midway down the beach and began pulling on his black wetsuit, squeezing into the black fabric that was probably more expensive than his laptop.

Keith had been surfing since he was little; it came naturally to him, just like his artwork. He wasn't good at many things, but painting and surfing were probably his most skilled hobbies. He was an art major at the local college, living on-campus with his friend Shiro, a senior who was looking to go to flight school after college. Keith was a sophomore at 19 and worked at one of the many Starbucks in his California college town. When he wasn't at school or working, he was at the beach, surfing and sketching. He'd seen countless sunsets, gotten up early for so many sunrises, but the sky never ceased to amaze him. California was pretty much amazing compared to his hometown in Texas, even though Keith's dad was there and he was pretty amazing too.

On the far right of the beach, rocky crags black with algae stood up to the waves that slammed into them. There was a buoy in the water in front of them that showed where the rocks started. The jagged rocks were sharp and unforgiving, and Keith had watched a little kid's boogie board get mauled by the knife-like features, and he made sure to steer as far away as possible from them whenever he caught a wave.

After velcroing the strap to his ankle, Keith picked up his board and waded into the waves, moving fast once he was a close enough so he wouldn't get pummeled. The water was cold on his face and hands, but his wetsuit kept him insulated so it wasn't that bad. Soon, he'd passed the line of the wave's breaks and he hopped up onto his board, straddling it to paddle further out.

Keith eventually found his way to a large, flat rock that protruded out of the water, far enough back from the shore that the water was calm, only gently sloshing up against the rock. He usually came here to stretch before actually surfing, looping the leash of his board to a piece of driftwood wedged into a gap in the rock, standing on the flat, grey boulder, and soaking up the sun as he stretched out his muscles. Today was no different. After securing his board, Keith climbed up onto the rock and sighed, sitting down on the hard surface that was comfortably warmed by the sun. Stretching his legs, he gazed up at the cloudless sky, watching the seagulls dart around each other and float on the seabreeze.

...

Lance was swimming so fast he felt like he could fly. Up and up and up, he closed his eyes for a brief second as he felt the sun grow warm on his face. As he grew closer and closer to the surface, his scales began to gleam the way they were supposed to, bright blue. As he entered the currents, his sail lifted: the long spines on the back of his tail that started at his mid-back, ending at the midjoint just like the guard's and every other mer's on the California coast. Lance had once met a mer from the east coast, native to freezing water and stronger currents, and his sail had been at least two times bigger than Lance's because of how aggressive the currents could get in the east. Lance's wasn't just for decoration though, the sails really did help to steer and use for balance. Plus, the thin webbing of skin that connected the spines had luminescent stripes, adding to markings that identified mers from predators.

Lance also had stripes on his cheekbones, collarbone, and shoulders, as well as a few freckled spots on his hands and the bottom of his ribcage. His eyes were only a few shades darker blue than his tail, and were a key to his flirting. Beneath his ears, near the sterno muscle in his neck, were his gills, three on either side. Delicate and fluttery, the change between filtering soft, clear water and breathing sharp, dry air with his small lungs was hard and often the reason why some mers passed out on their first few times changing. Lance didn't particularly like breathing air but it was worth it, even if he did have trouble catching his breath sometimes.

Letting the currents carry him close to the beach, Lance searched for a spot in the ocean floor, which was now soft and sandy, to store his satchel. Swimming with a weird brown bag around your chest was a little weird, especially when encountering strangers. Lance ended up wedging it in the base of a large boulder that stood fairly far from the beach, but not before grabbing his swim trunks to change into. As evolved as the mers were, they didn't transform into magically wearing pants, and if you tried to turn back into a mer with clothes on, the fabric would get mutilated by the expanding scales.

Lance decided that the boulder was a good place as any to change, so he slowly surfaced. To change, a mer had to completely unsubmerge from the water, so he carefully gripped the boulder and pulled his legs out of the ocean his knees bumping against the hard rock. His arms burned as he hung suspended, but he winced as he felt his tail split down the middle, morphing into legs with a painful burn. His gills closed over, all of his markings faded away into tan freckles, and his webbed fingers split to become 'normal', long and slim without their membrane of webbing. He'd have to completely resubmerge to become a mermaid again.

He slipped on his swim trunks and was about to pull himself onto the boulder when he noticed that there was a freaking surfboard tied to the rock. It took all of Lance's willpower to not duck down underwater again and rocket right back to the cove. Breathing deeply (which was hard- his lungs were very small), Lance gave himself a quick peptalk to relax, then slowly gripped the top of the rock and pulled himself up so he could look over the edge. He flinched when he saw a tuft of black hair, but remained in the weird pull-up position until he actually recognized who the surfer was.

Oh! HIM! Hottie with a body, holy shit. Lance knew this surfer. He knew basically all of the regulars because he watched them surf so often, and man was this guy a regular. Almost every time Lance came to visit, the guy was there, surfing or just sitting on his board out in the open. It occurred to Lance that, since he'd never changed at this rock, it was probably a regular spot for the surfer guy and he was just minding his own business, sunbathing. Lance slowly lowered himself back down into the water to let his arms rest, but then slowly made his way around the side of the rock, eventually finding a place where the rock was low enough that Lance could climb on. What, he was interested!

Lance hopped onto the rock, still a little shaky from his new legs, and stood over the boy, who lay on his stomach, arms folded under his head and wetsuit stripped off to lay in the sun on the side. Lance cleared his throat, then said loudly, "Hey, cutie." The boy jumped a little, but rolled onto his back slowly, wincing at the bright sun. Lance shifted to the side to have his back block the sun from getting into the surfer's eyes. His face unpinched itself and he regarded Lance slowly. "Do you have a sunburn? Or are you always this hot?" Lance, you're a dumbass, that's the cheesiest pick-up line you and Allura have ever come up with, you couldn't have gone with anything a little more subtle?

The surfer shook a little, probably a scoff, but Lance stayed confident. Finally, the boy replied, but it wasn't the answer Lance was looking for.

"Sorry, I don't swing that way." His dark hair slicked back, dark grey eyes piercing and pretty, he looked hot as fuck, at least to Lance and probably every other being alive, mer or human, but maybe he was straight after all. Lance stared at the surfer as he casually flipped onto his stomach, closing his eyes lazily. What the fuck? Weren't humans supposed to be easy to get? Certainly, all the girls Lance had flirted with had been willing to indulge Lance in his giant ego, even some of the boys he'd tried with but maybe this one was just an asshole. Or, maybe Lance had lost his charm over the winter... Nah, that couldn't be it.

Whatever. Lance rolled his eyes, huffed loudly, then jumped back into the ocean, making his way to shore to find someone who actually appreciated his efforts. Who needed a hot surfer guy? Lance was bi, he could choose any other fish in the sea. Just not the hot emo surfer one.