Alright minions, here's the thing. I have been wanting to write a Gajevy mermaid AU for a really really really long time. I haven't because I thought it would just be a rehash of someone else's work. And that would be boring.

Well, while Lady Inspiration has been kind, I do not choose the gifts she decides to give. One of my Beta's has been feeling rather poor lately (send my girl kiss-me-khaos some love y'all), but she decided to sketch a few mermaids and post them. THANK MAVIS she posted them because now I have an entirely new AU to update for you. Dedicated to the wonderful person that she is.

I will let you know as soon as I have a schedule set for regular updates. But for now, read and review! I'd love some feedback.

Enjoy.

=)

"Haul 'er up!"

Wet rope slipped through tired fingers as the studded fisherman grappled and fought to latch the crane hook to the drifting buoy.

The railing of the leaky boat creaked under his weight. The sound of pained grunts and curses signified a successful latch, but a faltering of balance to stay within the vessel.

"Shit!" he muttered under steamy breath, finally gaining stable footing.

"Incoming!"

His shipmate steered them towards the last of the nets cast out in the Commons fishing ground. Hopefully, they would reel in something decently profitable before the season let out.

With the final hook in hand, he secured it around the buoy, motioning his cousin, Rogue, to activate the crane and haul up their catch.

It whirred and clanked under the weight of the water, but sped up as his cousin toggled the according switches at the helm.

Gajeel stood at the railing, waiting for the net to rise. His breath condensing into steam as the air grew colder with the oncoming winter. The water would soon bring in bergs of ice, and then he would be out of a job. His old vessel could not withstand another beating on the rocks; the repairs from last season were what broke his bank account.

But then what? He would have to rent out yet another room of his dingy apartment just to make ends meet to keep his business afloat. He couldn't even afford to pay Rogue as it was. Now, he wouldn't even be able to sleep in his own home.

He grimaced as their catch broke the surface. He gestured to his cousin to halt the crane. The net was practically empty. He estimated maybe fifty kilograms of fish. Not enough to make a profit, let alone save his hide from debt.

It couldn't be helped. He signaled Rogue to drop the load for sorting and storage. The mechanisms in the crane squeaking as it brought the haul aboard. It was lowered below deck where his cousin released the hooks, spilling the squirming bundle into a large container.

Gajeel closed the doors, fastening them shut with the metal bolt. He climbed the ladder to the helm, taking the steps two at a time.

"Bringin' her in?"

Gajeel grunted his consent. The wiry boy stepped aside for the ship's captain to take the wheel, sliding down the railing and jumping below deck to sort their catch.

Gajeel pushed the throttle lever in, engaging the propellers to speed up their return trip home. The wheel practically turned of its own accord. He flicked switches and knobs until he was happy with the engine settings, releasing a long-suffering sigh as he looked out to sea.

There were fish out there, he knew it, but on the horizon he spotted the clearly marked guild ship. One of the many competitors Gajeel had to contend with. The Common's fishing grounds was just not big enough to send everyone home with pockets full of fish. Or money.

Port came into view and he slowed them to a rocking drift, allowing their momentum to carry them to the dock. Once in their designated space on the far end, Rogue jumped ashore and tied them into place. With the ancho dropped, Gajeel activated the crane by Rogue's command. The boy would have reattached the hooks to the bin while below deck.

When the red container was lifted clear of the deck, Gajeel swiveled the controls to have it set on the boardwalk. The magnetic hooks were detached and the vessel shut down for the day. Without the engine rumbling, or the crane whirring in his ears, the water lapping against the boat was quite soothing. He grabbed the keys from the ignition and stomped down the steep ladder.

His cousin was busy securing slack ropes and fishing nets when Gajeel slipped below deck.

It was a solid fishing boat, his prized possession, actually. Metalicana just needed a little TLC every now and then.

He shut the compartment to the sorting area off, locking the doors. The smell of rank fish tainted every molecule of oxygen and left a bad taste in his mouth most nights.

He entered the cluttered captain's quarters. When he first bought Metalicana, he intended to sleep there, but the smell proved to be a formidable adversary, hence his land-based apartment. He shuffled maps and tools off a cushioned bench, picking up a stray bottle of liquor. He unscrewed the drink and took a shallow swig. The firewater burned it's way down his throat, a vibrant whiskey.

He took a seat amongst the mess as Rogue stepped down into the quarters.

"Done?" he asked, his usual mellow voice now lethargic and slow.

The studded man bobbed his head in a nod, "Done. And don't come in tomorrow."

The boy moved as if to leave, but lingered in the door a moment longer.

"What for?"

Gajeel gestured to a splayed map on top of the center table. It was hidden under wrenches and gear as paperweights, but his objective was clear.

"Looking for new fishing ground?" he guessed.

Gajeel swallowed another draw of whiskey, his voice hoarse from the burn, "Already found. Wanna test the waters."

Rogue stepped into the dimly lit room and took a look at the topographical map, his face contorting into a grave expression as he looked over the circled area.

"No one fishes there. Too many rocks. Tides are unpredictable. You'll wreck."

Gajeel chuckled his signature 'gihi', "No one fishes there, yet. There's a clear stretch of water near the cove there," without standing, he pointed to the far end of the circled region, "Weigh anchor there, then cast a few nets. It's a test run, not permanent territory."

He added the last statement to put his young cousin at ease. He knew the risks of fishing so close to the cliffs, but he was a desperate man.

The boy nodded, his brow still furrowed. He could trust his cousin's judgment.

They parted with silent good bye's. Gajeel toyed with a pocket knife, flipping the blade in and out of its protective sheath. He stared at the map on the table, willing it to tell him something. Anything.

He was a desperate man, but his gut told him he'd find something worthwhile. He flicked his wrist, sending the exposed blade to puncture the paper in his exact destination: Siren's Cove.