4
Getting Singer into a pair of trousers was a mortifyingly embarrassing act that Tom would rather not recount. Not to mention Singer seemed terribly unimpressed by them.
He frowned dramatically, picking at the fabric. Tom had given him a loose pair because he knew it'd feel odd. He hadn't considered Singers smaller size so they'd had to roll them down at the waist and up at the ankles.
“You don’t like them?” Tom didn't bother trying to hide his amusement and Singer scowled.
“Don’t like them,” He echoed, voice clipped. Tom's grin stole over his face.
“You’re amazingly clever, did you know?”
Singer was watching now, his upset forgotten in Tom's amusement.
“Did you know?” The mer echoed again, though, ironically, he didn't seem to know what he was saying now. Tom shook his head fondly.
“You silly fish. Come to the desk I’ll show you the alphabet,”
His desk sat facing away from the porthole, littered with papers and pens. Tom led Singer to the only chair before searching the shelves for his schoolbooks. He hadn't needed them in decades but was suddenly grateful he’d never done away with them.
“Here we are,” Tom announced, sliding one tome from the shelf containing the basics. Singer chirped a question as Tom rejoined him, pointing one long finger at a map on the desk.
“Oh yes. It’s a treasure map of sorts. It’s where we’re headed,”
Singer furrowed his brow. “Treasure?”
Tom smirked, “Not the kind of treasure you’ve brought me, love. Though I’m sure there’ll be some of that too. Here,” He pulled Singer's finger to an illustration of a fountain. “It’s said to be the location of the fountain of youth.” Just speaking it aloud made Tom's heartbeat faster in his chest.
“I’ve been searching for years, it took me about that long just to find a decent map, but I’m close now.”
Singer hummed; he didn't seem to fully understandbut he smiled at Tom's excitement.
“Now onto your letters,” Tom smirked, captain's voice in place.
Singer, as he’d made very clear, was a quick learner. But as Tom guided him through his old schoolbooks, he found the mer's fatal flaw. He had the attention span of a child. Singer quickly grew bored of their lessons, doodling on spare parchment after Tom showed him how to hold a pen.
“You aren't paying attention at all,” Tom admonished, Singer only gave him an innocent look before yawning dramatically. “Fine, you dreadful creature, we’ve finished for the day.”
Singer chirped excitedly, practically jumping from his seat.
“I need to find a place for those jewels,”
The deck was abuzz with chatter when they emerged. Excitement over the treasure, no doubt. A crowd was gathered around the jollyboat, sifting through the jewels. Singer moved before Tom could blink, casting himself into the throng with a bone-rattling hiss. The ship quieted, men scrambling away from the angry mer. The sound of his threat had caused every hair on Tom's body to stand on end and he watched wide-eyed as bright red scales reappeared across Singer's skin, a clear threat display.
“Hey now, Singer, what's wrong?” Tom forced himself forward after a frozen moment.
“Treasure!” The mer growled out like the answer was obvious. Tom must've looked as bewildered as he felt because the mer huffed and tugged Tom closer by his wrist.
“Tom treasure!”
Tom blinked, momentarily transfixed by the vibrant scales splattered across the mers face. He looked nearly ethereal with the contrast of his green eyes.
“I think we may have encroached on your gift, captain,” Crouch Jr. commented helpfully from behind.
“Ah,” Tom said in realization. “These are my friends, Singer. I thought it okay to share,”
Singer looked over the crew with a ferocious glare.
“Come now, dear. What am I meant to do with all of this on my own?”
The mer crossed his arms unhappily, glancing between the wealth and the men before stepping away from the jollyboat.
“Is it alright for them to take it below deck? It'll be safer down there,”
Singer turned his face away, claws tapping on his arm and Tom almost smiled, imagining a swishing tail.
“Thank you, love.” Tom couldn't help but chuckle at the Mers's displeasure. “Careful with-it men, we wouldn't want an angry Singer on our hands,”
The crew murmured in agreement, keeping a careful watch on Singer who returned the favor ten-fold.
It was around this time that Tom noticed the itching. Singer didn't seem to fully recognize it himself as he itched at the skin around his scales until it was raw and irritated.
“I think it's time for you to rejoin your fishy friends, Singer.” The mer's skin looked dry now that Tom was looking for it scalier and rough.
Singer glanced down at his itching fingers and honest-to-god pouted.
“It’s alright, you can come aboard tomorrow and the day after that too, if you so wish,”
The mer nodded at that, a hint of a smile on his lips. He seemed to debate something, face flushing before he turned from Tom suddenly.
“What is it?” Tom raised a brow, but Singer only took a step and leapt over the side of the ship.
“Singer!” Tom stared bewildered. What in heaven's name went on in a mer's head? He strode to the balustrade to peer over the edge and Singer was waiting there with a sharp-toothed grin before he dove beneath the water.
The troublesome Mer made his trips aboard a common occurrence. Though seeing a mermaid grow legs was never something that got old. Singer also often brought trinkets along with him, no more boats full of jewels, but small things like watches, a silver mirror, and one memorable time, a dinner spoon.
Singer made clear these gifts were only for Tom and not intended for the crew, something that stroked Tom's prideful ego. So, Tom thanked him, secreting the trinkets away to Singers preening. In return, Tom would guide him to his quarters and read to him. Singer remained a clever, if difficult, student. His vocabulary was growing rapidly, helped partially by his love of Tom's storybooks.
“I want to,” Singer demanded, arms crossed. Sometimes Tom wished the mer knew fewer words.
“It’s not safe for you on land, you’re a creature of the ocean.” Tom reiterated, sliding his sword into place on his hip.
“I want to!” Singer huffed stubbornly. Tom scowled at the childish mer leveling him with a cool glare.
“You’d have to wear clothes. All of them,”
Singer visibly brightened and nodded; sharp teeth bared in an excited grin.
“I mean it, Singer. You shouldn't be anywhere near a city, let alone one like this. You’ll have to stay completely covered,”
Singer nodded eagerly and Tom sighed, the fight draining at his shining eyes.
“And I’ll need something else to call you, Singer will draw too much attention.”
Singer hummed, tapping a clawed finger to his cheek in thought. He clicked something in his language before squinting in concentration.
“Har…Hari…” He sounded out slowly. “Harry,”
“Why Harry?” Tom asked curiously. Singer smiled, a softer thing.
“Close to my name in mer, but more English,” He explained in the stilted way he’d begun to weave sentences. Tom couldn't help his fondness as he returned the smile.
“Harry it is.”