Epilogue

EPILOGUE

THE FUTURE

Trick and Sato with the San Andreas Pack

Trick and Sato got their swim that night.

And Alec got his barbecue the next weekend. Poor Sato had no idea what he was in for. Trick tried to prepare him, he really did, but Sato was overwhelmed quickly.

“There are so many people. Why?” The merman sounded so plaintive.

Trick laughed. “Well, the pack keeps expanding. I mean, I just added you and kinda Meymey too. And now she’s got Professor Luckie and of course her diplomatic pod. That’s how it works. Eventually Professor Luckie will bring a few of her friends. It’s like a massive smack of jellyfish.”

He pointed to the kitsune and their leash of lovers. “Those are our local kitsune. They come from the East Bay with their polycules because of Max. Ms Trickle and Pepper are his fault too. Former coworkers, plus assorted friends. For a self-proclaimed loner, Max sure collected a lot of people.”

Max joined them at that moment, drinking some kind of fancy peach spritzer someone had brought. He handed one to Trick without having to be asked. “You taking my name in vain, short stuff?” At barbecues Max was always trying to fizz Trick up. He seemed to feel he owed Trick for all the sickeningly sweet lattes Trick made him over the years.

Trick bounced, delighted. Spilled a bit out the bottle top which Max had kindly already opened for him. Trick didn’t like things as sweet as Max did, but he loved being noticed by the Magistar. He secretly felt like Max dismissed most of them as frivolous creatures unworthy of his attention. Which they probably were, but Max only brought him drinks at parties.

Sato narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Sato was behaving like his old self, generally scowling at too many people and sticking to the outskirts of the crowd. He’d always been like that, until Trick got into trouble. Then he’d charge in, pull Patrick out, scold him, and take him home. He seemed unsure of his role when they were already home, and the masses had come to them. He’d eaten some of the grilled salmon, determined that on land, Professor Luckie and her sharp tongue made for a better vangill than he under these circumstances, and exited the fray. At some point, some brave soul had handed him a beer. Probably Judd. Sato sipped from it occasionally, winced, stared at it in betrayal, then stood around until he forgot about it, took another sip, winced again.

Trick grinned at Max. “I was explaining how we got so many people coming to eat venison after a full moon.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Werewolves collect lost souls. At least this pack does.” He looked morosely up at the massive house that was technically his but which he rarely entered. “Gonna need a bigger place if this keeps happening.” He brightened. “Could rip that one down.”

Bryan came over, slung a big arm over Max’s shoulders. “We’ll make do with what we got, for now. At least you can sleep well at night knowing your father would hate the renovations, and that it’s lousy with shifters and queers.”

Max brightened. “Fair point.” He looked at Sato. “You know, we had a bet going on Kettil winning over our otter here. You came along and ruined the pool.”

Trick took away Sato’s beer and handed him the peach soda. Sato sipped from that. Narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to decide if he liked it.

Trick was charmed. He kissed Sato’s cheek in approval.

The narrowed eyes turned on him. A webbed hand brushed some smudge of food off Trick’s chin.

“Did any of us bet against Kettil? Short the stock?” Max asked his mate.

Bryan wrinkled his nose. “Isaac said something about us being overly optimistic in this matter but refused to put money on it, since he’s been counseling Kettil. Poor showing, if you ask me. He could have won big.”

“Anyone close?”

“Colin had the longest time frame. He said it’d take at least three years for Kettil to figure his shit out. But I don’t think that counts as winning the bet.”

“It’s possible that might still come true. Just not with Trick,” protested Colin, joining them at that point. “This screaming hot merman threw seaweed in the works.”

“Mermen have a tendency to do that,” said Trick, proudly.

“You don’t think the cop is actually straight, do you?” wondered Kevin, joining his brother. A whole bunch of werewolves (and Max) were now looming and glaring without malice at Sato and Trick.

Trick didn’t care. Sato had moved his hand down to cup his neck. His thumb was rubbing along Trick’s collarbone, the webbing soft against his throat.

“Shouldn’t you know your own kind?” Colin asked his brother.

Kevin made a face. “Doesn’t work like that.”

Max smirked. “Kevin is terrible at being straight.”

Kevin looked morose. He’d just been dumped… again. “I know, right? I spend too much time with you losers.”

Bryan’s kind eyes were watching Trick intently. Trick met them, unselfconscious about Sato’s possessive hand on him. Werewolves were a touchy-feely crew. Sato wasn’t and never had been, but in a crowd like this, he clearly wanted everyone to know that Trick belonged to him. Or maybe this was the bit of him that had changed over the years they’d been apart. Less grabbing and dragging away, more soft touches and staying close. He certainly didn’t like being separated from Trick for any length of time.

He’d moved into the pack house with something approaching alacrity – for Sato. Of course he was off with the pod whenever Trick was working. He’d been figuring out how to ferry all the mermaids around to various fertility clinics and such. But he came home every evening and collected Trick for a swim, and then spent the night in his bed. Their bed.

Bryan said, “House takes the pot, then. Right?”

A chorus of groans and protests met that. “Unfair, this isn’t a casino. Just give us our money back.”

Max tilted his head and looked with interest at Sato. For some reason the Magistar was intrigued by Trick’s boyfriend. Max, who showed very little interest in anything.

“So, Sato-san, what happens if your sister does get preggo?” Max asked.

Bryan explained his mate’s interest, thank goodness, for both Trick and Sato’s benefit, “Max is the end result of a rather tortured breeding program.”

“Oh, am I prying?” Max did not look at all apologetic.

Sato’s eyes stayed narrowed but still without hostility and his hands stayed petting Trick. “She will be happy to be fertile,” he said, stating the obvious.

Max huffed, annoyed. “And if the Paralia has a male baby?”

Sato frowned. “As soon as he develops legs, she will leave the boy behind with his sire, of course.”

“Ah yeah, babe, that’s not how fertility clinics work,” Trick hastened to point out.

Sato frowned. “Point taken.” He looked down at him, face impassive. But Trick could tell from that very stillness, how important this was. “How do you feel about raising up a merman or two in about ten years or so?”

Trick thought about Sato alone in his room at his father’s house. Lost in a world too loud and too dry. Trapped with a disinterested sire who did his best, but nothing more. He thought about what Sato had said – that it was Patrick who had saved him, back then. Patrick who’d been the necessary one – the beacon, the comfort. For the first time, Trick considered all the other Satos, all the other mermen, like Marvin, who had not been so lucky as to have a Patrick to save them. Who had been beached on lonely shores, abandoned by both their cultures. Who existed in that liminal place between land and sea, but were welcomed by neither.

What a good thing it would be to stop that from happening to the next generation. At least some of them. What a great thing to use a whole pack to do so. “There is your sperm to think about too. They want it right, because of your spurs?”

Sato huffed out breath through his nose. “Cascade has already asked.”

Sato, of course, hadn’t mentioned this.

“And?”

“I said no.”

Trick was startled. “Oh? Why?”

Sato shrugged. “I don’t like her.”

Max actually snorted in amusement. “Oh, I like you, merman.”

Sato looked with interest at the most powerful member of the pack. “I like you too, Magistar.”

Trick hid a smile by dipping his chin against Sato’s caresses, which hadn’t stopped.

Colin said, and there was a strange kind of hope in his voice, “But if you do donate and sire a boy, Sato?”

Sato tilted his head and looked up at the pack house, around at the lively yard full of shifters and the people who loved them.

“I guess he would come here?” He looked at Trick, genuinely asking. Hand stilling its movement at last, starting to withdraw.

Trick raised his own hand, covered Sato’s, pressed the webbing against his skin. He felt like crying. That Sato would still hesitate when loneliness and safety were on the line.

“Of course,” said Trick, making a promise for himself, but also a vow for the whole pack. He glanced around. They, all of them, even Max, were nodding.

Marvin popped up then. “Are we adopting? Meymey’s kids?”

“She’s dating a ball-busting lesbian scientist – I doubt that would be allowed, Alpha-mate,” said Max, acerbic as ever.

Bryan said, “No, we’re talking about Sato’s kids.”

Marvin bit his lip. “Right, he’s vangill. I didn’t think about that possibility.” He rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. We’ll have to talk about expanding the house. How about renovating the lower level. But funding….”

Sato was staring at Marvin, eyes wide and startled. “You’re the strangest merman I’ve ever met.”

Marvin patted his shoulder. “I know, honey. But just look,” he gestured widely at the massive barbecue. “We like adopting strays.”

Trick said, “It’d be nice if they didn’t end up as lonely as you were.”

“I wasn’t lonely. I had you.”

Marvin said, “But that makes you the lucky exception.” And there was bitterness lurking in his tone.

Alec joined them then, their little group ever-expanding. Just like the pack.

“Who’s lucky?”

Marvin said, “Sato. Because when he was abandoned by the merfolk, Trick found him.”

Alec’s hazel gaze on Trick’s face was warm. “Very lucky.”

Trick was embarrassed. Why did Alec have to be so good ?

“So it is settled?” the Alpha asked his mate, looking at Sato.

Marvin nodded, face a little scrunched like he was trying not to cry. “We get to take them in. We will take them in.”

“Of course we will,” said the Alpha, like it had all been discussed and settled days ago, which, considering this Alpha, it probably had.

Marvin would have worried about this. Alec would have offered without even thinking about it. Alec was like that. He’d chat with Bryan, and Bryan would have mentioned it to Max, and suddenly the whole pack was on board with the weird system the merfolk had developed, that Sato would participate in, but without perpetuating the damage.

Sato looked confused. “Just like that? You accept a future full of hypothetical boys from the Deep?”

“Yep,” said Alec.

Trick smiled at Sato’s confusion. “Welcome to the San Andreas Pack, baby.”

Sato accepted, because that was his personality. But he did follow up with Trick later, still confused.

They were wearing the pack’s ubiquitous yellow waffle robes, preparing to walk down to the water and swim that evening. The color looked great on Sato and terrible on Trick, but Trick hardly cared in this moment. Although he did wonder if Sato could be persuaded to adopt a yukata. Outside, the sun was sinking and the party had quieted into a circle of seated forms, mostly just pack and close friends and lovers, some in each other’s laps, chatting and laughing.

Trick and Sato left them, trudging down the steep hill toward the shore. Kevin’s massive wolf form appeared briefly to escort them to the edge of the territory, then vanished to patrol the perimeter.

Sato asked, softly, “Were they sincere, the Alpha and his mate, about any boys I may sire?”

Trick had known this question was coming. “They were. Marvin in particular. He doesn’t talk about it, but I think, before high school, he was very lonely on land.”

Sato dipped his chin, really thinking about it. “He’s very social for a merman and he didn’t have a Patrick.”

Trick took a breath, then said, “Thank you for accepting me then, and for coming back to me now.”

Sato stopped right there on the side of the road. Reached and cradled Trick’s chin with both hands, webbing soft against his cheeks, encouraging him to look up at him. As if Trick could look away. As if there was ever a time he didn’t want to see Sato’s face.

Sato said, “I’ve been thinking maybe you don’t quite understand. You seem so surprised that I kept looking for you. I don’t know how to put this. I don’t think even the language of the sea would work but I’m going to try.”

He took a breath.

Trick waited, impatient but still under those hands.

“Patrick, our childhood is the same shape.”

Patrick frowned, confused.

Sato sighed, pressed on. He hated being forced to use words. But for Trick, he would. And Trick was honored by his suffering.

“All my best memories have the form of an otter. As if I have been, since I met you, a shifter with three forms, not just two. Back then, I adapted not to the land, but to you. There was never a moment I stopped looking for you. Not because I didn’t want to stop but because it simply never occurred to me to do so. I was always coming back to you. Always.”

And Trick believed him.

Sato kissed him. Soft. Lips questing. Still searching. Trick tasted salt. He tasted memories. And he tasted the future.

Sato pulled back.

“Can we please swim now?” whined his merman.

Fin