Chapter Text
"You really like to make my life a pain, don't you?" Stiles said loudly as he pulled the knots tight, doing his best to make them secure. Scott looked at him, dopey grin filled with dangerously excited curiosity, and not nearly what could be considered a healthy dose of nervousness for the situation. The rest of the crew, smartly, had wax stuffed in their ears, Stiles included. The only people still untied were him and the Captain. Scott, on the other hand, just had to be the guy who decided to test fate, all for the chance to hear the sirens' song. 'Just had to be' because not only was Scott Stiles' best mate, and would leave the mage devastated if something happened, but he was a werewolf, which meant adequately restraining him was never a sure thing.
He saw the sudden shift in the young man, ears perked and eyes glowing. Stiles couldn't even imagine what the song sounded like with werewolf hearing, and he hoped it wouldn't complicate things more than they were already. Stiles turned to see where Scott was looking and walked closer to the edge of the deck, still keeping a reasonable distance so he wouldn't get snatched from the ledge. He could see heads starting to poke out of the water, a cyan glow coming from beneath them. As the ship slowly drifted through their territory, they started coming out more, just a hint of their stunning, bio-luminescent tails peeking out before hiding back under the water. He couldn't hear them singing, but the sight alone was entrancing. He moved a little closer, eager to see what these women looked like up close. He was just at the edge, a pale, dark haired beauty that looked about his age looking up at him, and then behind him. Suddenly there was a body next to his, leaning well over the edge and reaching out to her. Scott. Stiles barely had time to process before suddenly the girl reached up and pulled the wolf overboard. Stiles panicked, quickly looking through the vials strapped to his belt, uncorking one and downing it before diving in after his friend.
The feeling was disorienting, and it took a couple breaths to adjust to breathing water. He spotted the girl nearby, Scott clutched to her possessively, looking completely enamoured and oblivious to the horde of transformed sirens surrounding them. His captor was transformed herself, but her face was contorted in what appeared to be a hiss/growl/scream, warning off the others. One with cropped red hair dared closer, and the young one moved Scott behind her, her grip looser that way. Stiles took advantage of their distraction and grabbed Scott, kicking wildly and hauling them on board. A few of the crew had gotten out, but still seemed to have their ears plugged, and helped drag Scott onto the deck, ramming some wax in his ears roughly. Stiles was still hanging half way over the banister, ready to pull himself forward onto the deck when suddenly something grabbed his leg and he was pulled back under.
There was a flurry of motion, raven-haired girl in front of him looking pretty pissed, and the feeling of being pulled almost limb from limb by the horde surrounding him on all sides. He got knocked around and blacked out briefly, and when he came to, he was suddenly many meters below the surface, a few stragglers chasing after him as he was pulled to darker depths, before turning away, back to the ship, deciding he wasn't worth it. Stiles looked down, vision blurry as he saw a dimly glowing tail, and a torso that seemed entirely too bulky and muscular for the lithe sirens he'd just witnessed. Stiles struggled, and the man looked back at him, eyes flashing blue and opening his jaw to snarl at him with fangs that looked much more like Scott's than the sirens'. Stiles' head was pounding, pressure building in his ears from the trapped air, and his struggles became a weak resistance, apparently negligible enough for the man to resume pulling him deeper, the pirate eventually blacking out again.
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When he came to, he couldn't feel the drag of being pulled through water, instead just a little floaty. All he could hear was a loud rushing, ringing sound in his ears, and he opened his eyes blearily. The man in front of him wasn't the same as the one before, and on closer observation, wasn't even the same species, the lower half of his body a mass of smooth, undulating tentacles. He smiled at Stiles upon seeing he was conscious again, and opened his mouth, saying something Stiles couldn't hear to someone behind him. Stiles turned his head, the merman from before right behind him, dark brow furrowed at whatever the tentacled man was saying. Stiles started squirming, and suddenly his arms were pulled behind him and held by the merman, hand easily wrapping around his forearms so they were crossed behind his back, grip bordering painful. He felt and watched as tentacles wrapped around his ankles and forced them to still, the man in front of him still talking as he held Stiles' head and pulled out the wax.
"...are interesting," he said, voice slowly becoming audible. Stiles tried to squirm more. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but the effects of his potion would stop any time now.
"Let me go! I need to breathe!" he yelled, thrashing indignantly. More tentacles wrapped around his thighs, and the man gripped his shoulders, shushing him softly.
"You are breathing, darling. Funny thing to request." Stiles glared at him.
"It's a potion, you idiot! They don't last forever." The older man look at the one behind him again.
"I thought you said they turned him?" He could feel the hand on his arms move as the man made some awkward shrug, face twisting in concern.
"I assumed when he wasn't drowning..." The man in front sighed, forcibly tilting Stiles' head and exposing his neck.
"Never assume, Derek. You'll just have to bite him and hope for the best. We're too far down for him to make it back to the surface in time, now." Stiles' eyes widened. How far down were they? How long had he been out? He didn't have much time to mull it over before he felt a hot mouth on his neck, fangs piercing and filling him with sharp pain. It was over quickly, at least the biting was. He still felt the strong, throbbing in his neck, and red clouded the water around them. He felt the tentacles on his legs adjusting, and hands tugging at his leather pants.
"Peter..." Derek said, tone warning and questioning at the same time. Peter looked up over Stiles' shoulder.
"You want him to bleed out? Because leaving whatever this is," Peter said, gripping the brown material, "between his legs when his tail forms is how you do that. Compress his neck." Stiles whimpered, but the thought of flesh not forming properly and leaving an open gash down the length of his legs kept him from resisting being stripped. He managed to toe off his boots and Peter finally managed get his bottoms off, tossing them on the sandy floor. Derek relaxed his grip on his arms as what Stiles guessed was reward for his cooperation, a strange feeling in his neck under the man's warm hand.
"What's your name?" Peter asked him softly as he fussed with the fasteners on his vest.
"Everyone calls me Stiles," he replied, trying to ground himself. Derek moved his hand, taking a look at his neck and getting Peter's attention.
"That looks promising," Peter smiled, "I think you're gonna live, Stiles," he said, giving the youth a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. Stiles gave a confused but hopeful sound, sliding his arms out of Derek's loose hold and feeling his neck. It was completely smooth, none of the marring or open wound that should be there. He started rubbing it ferociously in confusion, trying to feel something that wasn't there, and process that fact. Dawning came over his face just as Derek held his wrist to make him stop, and Stiles turned to face him.
"You're a...a were...were-fish?" Stiles asked, still trying to figure things out. Derek froze before uncomfortably relaxing a little.
"I'm a werewolf, Stiles," he corrected softly. "I just got turned by a siren, and now I'm...this," he said, face screwing up in confusion of his own hybrid existence as he motioned to his whole body, releasing Stiles' hand. Stiles made a little 'Oh' face, but just nodded, turning back to face Peter. The man seemed to have finally gotten the hang of undoing Stiles' vest, and now he was on the last part before opening it and helping Stiles out of it. Stiles pulled his loose shirt off after and undid his belt, checking the bottles and relieved he'd just finished wax sealing them that morning, the contents thankfully not ruined by water damage.
"Why don't you go get some sleep?" Peter said, wrapping an arm around his back and guiding him to some kind of platform with a thick layer of moss. "When you wake up, the transformations should be in effect, and we can introduce you to your new life." Stiles clutched his belt protectively, but let out a yawn, crawling into the bed and curling up. He watched the two men with exhausted wariness before quickly falling asleep, completely naked and spooning his belt.