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diningpageantry · 5 years

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Scales, Fins, and other Fishy Daydreams

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43151156

Chapter 3/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 1553

Chapter Summary: Baz takes Simon's shitpost text a step further, and the outcome ends up spreading a few rumors.

SIMON

bi-sammy: sammy would still fuck huxley if he looked like the fish from shape of water

I grin smugly at my screen, sitting in a dark room with nothing shining but my mobile. The shutters stay shut, and the light from the bottom of the doorway barely filters into the room. It’s just me, this scratchy blanket, and Baz, somewhere else in England on another screen. I absolutely adore that.

gaystrell: why would you say something so controversial yet so brave.jpg

Sometimes, I catch myself smiling. Other times, I elect to ignore how real it feels. It’s weird, given that it feels like I’m just chatting with someone who I see everyday. The casualness of this reminds me of texting Penny in the afternoon on a Thursday.

Except, given the current time, it could be interpreted as more intimate than that of a friend’s text.

8am on a Saturday is usually a time reserved for comfort. For staying warm with someone you care about. Instead, I’m just messaging Baz.

bi-sammy: because im right

bi-sammy: hear me out here ive got a brilliant idea

gaystrell: whoever taught you the definition of a brilliant idea was clearly misleading you

bi-sammy: dont be an arse until youve heard it

bi-sammy: wanker

gaystrell: you’re truly proving your point

bi-sammy: ANYWAY

bi-sammy: shape of water au

bi-sammy: thats all

gaystrell: i’m appalled.

gaystrell: hold on.

I don’t think much of it. Occasionally, he disappears for an hour to two. I don’t bother asking, assuming it’s none of my business, but I do tend to worry a bit. I hope he’s alright.

After clicking off my phone, my head settles against my pillow as my eyes fall shut.

There’s something about this. There’s something about him. It’s a bit hard to pinpoint what it is, but the overwhelming feeling of comfort I have in the notifications I get from him just answering my bullshit is incredibly welcomed. He’s semisweet. I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier, but he’s a fantastically bitter person.

My head slowly turns over, eyes opening and straining in the darkness.

I hate my empty room.

I hate the absence of comfort--I hate the plainness of these walls.

I want to say I hate my foster dad, but I also feel like I’m not allowed to say that. Not because the system will take me again and throw me back (even though I could have left a year back, if I was still in it). Instead, I feel like I shouldn’t hate him. Theoretically, I should be thankful for what I have. I’m not in a boy’s home, and I haven’t been since I was 11, but the remnants remain. The fights don’t go away, and neither do the weeks of starvation.

Still, I sort of despise living here under Davy.

That’s what he makes me call him. His name. His nickname. Not dad; of course not dad. He’s had me in his care for roughly six years, but he’s still Davy to me.

Shitty fucking Davy, with his strict curfews and practically using me as a housemaid because he’s too cheap to care for himself.

Shitty fucking Davy, not letting me add anything to my room because the day I turn 18, I’m out of here until his next kid (and cheque, apparently) come in. Told me I’d wreck the walls and ruin his furniture if I did put anything on it, too.

So that’s what I’ve got. Blank walls, blank furniture, blank everything. It’s like a jail cell for a bedroom, and everything I’ve got to show for myself is in a backpack and two dresser drawers/

But, at least, I own my mobile.

Every summer job, mixed with odds and ends shit and whatever I can do for my bill. It’s all mine, and Davy can’t fucking touch it.

Maybe that’s why, when I feel it buzz against my chest, it makes me feel more alive. It’s a reminder of all that work just to be able to talk to someone freely.

Arguably, the best feeling in the goddamn world.

I grab it and flip it over. It’s just an email about uni.

Fuck.

I end up scrolling through tumblr for a little while, doing nothing but liking and reblogging a thing here or there. It takes a little while before a little drop down falls from the top of my screen.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r7Wkwj7MSFk0--DgquHGhYVBbqneEYq0J01t0uMRmxA/edit?usp=sharing

gaystrell: feel the need to apologize before you click the link, but then again, you asked for this hell

When I click on it, it pulls up a doc titled just “crackfic”, and I’m floored with the first sentence alone.

“Fuck my fish ass harder, daddy.”

My hand flies up, covering my mouth as I practically wheeze as quietly as possible. A few paragraphs in and I’m nearly crying into my palm, muffling my laughter as I read through pages upon pages of the most ridiculous fic I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.

I check the word count out of pure curiosity, and it somehow makes me laugh harder.

bi-sammy: holy fucking shit

bi-sammy: i swear to god if you don’t post that i will

gaystrell: already in the process of making the archive post

gaystrell: i seriously believe you underestimate my sincere ability to be the biggest dick on the street

bi-sammy: i dont know whether or not u meant that as ur literal dick or the big dick energy in making that a post but id probably agree with you in both

bi-sammy: tag me in the post pls i want to be the first to reblog it

gaystrell: you’re a ridiculous, sad, little man

gaystrell: of course i’ll tag you

Within minutes, it’s uploaded with the absolute worst slew of Archive tags attached to it, and as soon as he tags me in his post, I tap the notification.

Scales, Fins, and other Fishy Daydreams

Word Count: 3,192

Summary: Fish!Huxley and Sam get it on Shape of Water style

@bi-sammy this is your fault (you're welcome)

I immediately slam like and pull up reblog, rapidly typing out my response before posting.

absolute madman. cant believe youve done this. i trust you with my entire life.

As usual, he's quick to reblog back.

anything for the absolute pain in my life x

Smiling shamelessly, I ride on the moment's high as our conversation stays out in the world. I quite enjoy this version of his softness. The public, taunting replies to mine. In all this time of following him, I can't really recall him ever being this friendly with anyone but me.

Makes me feel special. Maybe too much so.

BAZ

The jarring shock of the seemingly endless notifications rattles me momentarily speechless.

It isn't even 15 minutes after I'd replied to Snow and there's already a few people reblogging it with comments about him and I. A quick “i ship y'all’ to “powermove of the century”. Each make me flush deeper as the replies flood in.

If I were to be practical, I'm aware that I shouldn't be so flustered over the concept of us being a couple. It's most likely my overactive, sad, lonely imagination, but the idea of being loved just makes me blush. Especially since it's someone who doesn't seem to absolutely loathe me.

gaystrell: are you reading these?

bi-sammy: the what?

bi-sammy: i have. nothing to read. i cant read.

gaystrell: use your two remaining brain cells look at the notes for the crackfic

bi-sammy: holy shit

bi-sammy: im cackling

A notification pops up, making me snort this time. I pull up the post and send it off to him without a second thought.

gaystrell: sent a post

gaystrell: “sounds like something huxley would do for sam”

bi-sammy: stop im gonna piss myself shits too fucking funny

I pull it back up, scrolling down to reblog and adding a quick reply that, in all honesty, I should have thought out more. Secretly, part of me is glad that I sent it.

huxley wishes he was this smooth ;)

Within seconds, replies flood in from everywhere. From jokes about Snow and I possibly dating to the concept of Huxley writing (purposefully) shitty homoerotica about himself as a fishman. I quite like the conversation about the latter, while the former makes my chest knot in ways inexplicable.

Going through the notes makes me smile, even if it's mildly embarrassing. The amount of times I've seen the eyes emoji used is definitely excessive, but still somewhat welcomed.

Even my archive has a few comments already, although more based around the fic itself. More ironically, though, is the one person who probably took it seriously and just commented, “Nice fic!” I love the abundance of shameless appreciation for obscure fanfiction in the depths of this community.

Snow's messages roll down my mobile screen as I'm checking the comments, continuously replacing the previous message for the top slot.

bi-sammy: mate

bi-sammy: i love you

bi-sammy: also every time you reblog something of mine i get like 5 followers

bi-sammy: if you mention me i get 10

bi-sammy: youre???????????? a god????????

bi-sammy: can i marry you????????????

I slowly close my laptop, eyes on my phone with an absolutely gleeful grin.

gaystrell: when and where?

#carry on #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mine #it's a handheld disaster #snowbaz #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz

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