A/N Part 2 of Green! I hope you like it. Blue is up next but I have no idea what to do with it. Any suggestions?
Neal cried out as the boat lurched forward, tipping him into the railing. He groaned and slumped down the side, clutching his stomach as the nausea rumbled his stomach. Neal decided this op was the worst decision of his life the second his foot tapped onto the wooden floor of a fishing boat. Then it just got downhill from there. Scrubbing the deck, fixing the sails and leaks and the smell. Oh god! The smell of rotten fish and week old BO. Neal was sure he'd never get it out of his hair. All for a corrupt sea captain who was using the nets to fish in old artifacts from the sea floor, restoring them and reselling them for millions. Neal hated that man even more than he hated Fowler.
Another wave rocked the boat and Neal clutched his stomach tighter, praying he wouldn't puke. The last man to be seasick ended up having to clean the captain's quarters for a week with the flu. It was hell already, being the new guy with his perfect hair and charming smile and his damn cologne. He knew how be undercover but damn, this was hard and he got sea sick and those little patches did little to quell the flaming hot ball rolling around in his stomach.
Slowly, Neal rose from his seated position, swaying slightly with the motion of the waves before rounding the boat and going to find the rest of the crew. He greeted Skipper, the young lad who had originally brought him upon the boat, showing him his quarters and politely pointing out the showers and pantry. Apparently the rest of the crew would leave someone to stench or starve before laughing and jokingly shoving them towards whichever they needed more. The rest of the week resembled a frat hell week, with Neal scrubbing toilets and begging at the knees for mercy from his mates.
Turning the corner, Neal tugged off his orange rubber boots, massaging his toes before collapsing on the bed and returning to the rocking motion in a little ball. He whimpered when they hit a big wave, curling further in on himself.
"Hey man," A voice called from the corridor and Neal rolled over with a huff, blowing a piece of greasy hair from his eyes, " If you're sick you should be in the infirmary. You're looking a little green," Skipper stated, frowning down at Neal.
Neal chuckled, stopping abruptly when it sent his stomach lurching. He roared to life, jumping from the bed and sliding to the toilet. Neal gagged, deep heaving breaths trying to contain himself, before heaving messily into the clean(ish) bowl. Flopping down onto the floor, he fought the urge to cry.
"Gross," Skipper joked, wrinkling his freckled nose and flushing the toilet before placing a hand upon Neal's clammy forehead. Humming, he turned to a little cabinet in Neal's bedroom, returning with a thermometer and slipping it under the man's tongue. Neal groaned indignantly but settled down with a glare from the Irish man.
"'M fine," Neal talked around the device and pouting.
"Sure man, sure. Then why does it red 102?" Skipper asked, raising a bright red brow and leaning over to pull up Neal.
He waved Skipper off, rising to his feet and ignoring the buzzing in his ears. Walking the few feet to the creaky bed, Neal sat down on the edge and buried his face in the dusty, plaid comforter. He couldn't be sick. Not with this case, not right now, not with the evil, cruel man as his captain. He could get stuck on kitchen duty for the rest of the case. He could- the thought process was ripped from Neal's mind and he toppled onto his knees and quickly crawled back to the dingy bathroom, gripping to bowl and heaving again.
Skipper patted his back and turned to leave, speaking over his shoulder as he did, "Sorry man but Captain Briggs needs to know, you need the time off."
Neal was too tired to argue.
Closing his heavy lids, Neal slept for days only popping open his glazed eyes to race to the bathroom or the sink in enough time to puke, then slowly shuffling back to the bed, scratching the feeling that his skin was too tight from his mind.
Neal tossed and turned, throwing his eyes open to glance around the small room. He gazed at the wooden frame to the glass portal. Mesmerized as blue grey waves lapped at it, a pleasant splashing noise accompanying it. He pulled back the covers and stood, wibbling on his legs before gingerly walking through the hallway. He pulled up to a heavy, black door, pounded his fist on it before it swung open.
"The dead rises," Skipper greeted, word slurred from a bit of whiskey. "What brought you here?"
"I just wanted to say thanks," Neal smiled, truly grateful that someone on this stupid boat had a heart, " I mean it man, I needed that rest."
"Well I'm just glad you look a little less green," Skipper responded motioning for Neal to slip into his quarters and join him for a night of poker.
A/N I hoped you liked it, even though the comfort came from an OC. Review?