Whoosh. He came out of the water with a rush. Got into the boat, pulled off his mask and tank, tried to get to his place—
Plop.
He landed in a heap on the boat deck, head spinning.
“Give him air,” the senior chief yelled. “You okay, Nelson?”
“Gonna puke?” Rodriguez called. “Do it overboard, man!”
“I’m fine,” Zack lied as he pulled himself into a sitting position. Fuck. Bile rose in his throat and he really did lose his lunch over the side of the boat.
Then he had Emmett, the senior chief, and Morrison, the medic, in his face wanting to take his vitals and talking about whether he should have been allowed to dive.
“You pushed yourself too much running,” Harper called.
Let’s go with that. “Yeah,” Zack said weakly.
“Problem?” the lieutenant shouted down from the boat bow.
“Evaluating Nelson for DCS,” the senior chief shouted back.
“I don’t have DCS. I felt...off from the start. Harper’s probably right, and it was the run.”
The senior chief shook his head. Morrison and Emmett hovered over him the whole ride back, pushing fluids, making him take oxygen even as Zack said over and over that he was feeling way better and that it wasn’t decompression sickness. It took a lot of convincing to get them to forgo a trip to the hyperbaric chamber once they were back on land. God, he did not need to look like more of a wuss in front of the other men. As it was, he had Morrison insisting that he head to the medical center or call him if he had any new symptoms.
“Hey, Nelson, you know you can call me for things other than the bends,” Morrison said, Boston burr thick, as he checked Zack’s vitals a final time. Everyone had already stowed the gear and headed out. The medic had dark curly hair and was one of the few guys on the team shorter than Zack, but he was built like an ox.
“What...what do you mean?” Zack struggled to keep his pulse rate normal. What rumors were swirling now?
“I mean I was new once too. I know it’s hard adjusting and some of the guys can give you a bit of a hassle, but we’re brothers here. We’ve got your back. You need something—anything—you just give me a ring. Even if it’s just someone to grab a beer with.”
Damn. Zack almost wished he might be taking Morrison up on that, but the only thing he had on his mind was Pike, and no way was he sharing that with the friendly medic who was known as both a good listener and unrepentant gossip.
“I’m good,” Zack said, throat a bit scratchy. Morrison gave him a little more hovering after he put his blood pressure cuff and stuff away, asking about driving home and if there was someone Zack could call.
Pike. Pike’s my guy. Zack realized with a start that Pike had somehow made his in-case-of-emergency list. The very secret part of the list, you mean? Yeah. That. No way was he letting Morrison listen in to a call with Pike, even if Zack did feel like shit, and part of him wouldn’t mind the ride home.
Nope. He’d take care of himself, same as always.
Finally free, he headed for the truck. Fuck. He just wanted to be home. He let out a huge exhale when he saw Pike’s car out front the house, Pike just heading up the walk.
“Hey,” Zack called. He never knew exactly how to greet Pike. Waving felt dumb, handshake felt ridiculous, and a bro hug seemed too...tense. Too likely to lead to very non-bro kissing, you mean? Yeah, that too.
“Hey yourself.” Pike’s whole face transformed, softened as their gazes met. “Do you mind if we call for delivery? Chinese maybe? I’ve had kind of a shit day. Don’t feel like cooking.”
“What about that sandwich place that delivers? I want that turkey thing I had last week,” Zack countered, because his stomach wasn’t entirely back online and, knowing Pike, chili peppers would factor heavily into his Chinese food order.
“Deal.” Pike clapped him on the back as he stepped around him to head to the kitchen. “Beer?”
“We got any clear soda?”
“Yeah. Some off-brand lime stuff I picked up last grocery run. I’ll grab you a can.”
Zack hung up his jacket and finished taking off his shoes and socks. He’d just collapsed on the couch when Pike emerged with their drinks.
“I called for the sandwiches. They’ll be here in thirty or so.” Pike set his beer on the little end table that had appeared in the past few days. Like most of Pike’s finds, it was colorful, a bright teal. Sighing, Pike flopped down next to Zack. “Damn. What. A. Day.”
Gizmo and Nectarine abandoned their naps in front of the window to come take up residence on Pike’s legs. Pike stretched, and Zack made a noise that wasn’t exactly surprise when Pike’s head connected with his thigh.