Chapter Text
It's getting harder and harder to breathe, the combination of minimal water and a fuckton of sludge slowly sending you into a small panic attack. It's difficult to drag yourself along the sand - it's too dry, too loose - and all you can do is sit there and choke as you pray for the tide to rise and drag you back out.
Rose had warned you, an annoying part of you says. She said not to go out today, that the waters weren't fit for gathering. You just had to ignore her and swim out, telling her to not mistake you for an idiot - that you weren't dumb enough to get caught in the oil spill. Man, do you feel like a douche right now. If you make it back, you're going to heed every warning the flighty broad gives you. Well, maybe not every warning; but still!
You wonder if there are any people out today. You can't exactly see with the sun constantly in your eyes - your stupid, sensitive eyes that can't handle coming up for a peek during daylight. You can't hear anyone coming, either, so for now you're pretty sure you're screwed. Great.
You're able to just get by with the deep breaths that swallow small amounts of air, but you can't do this forever. Oxygen will eventually suffocate you, and the oil wont wash off without water. The tide is slowly rising, though - you can feel the water slowly creeping up your tail, trying to reach for your gills - and you almost let out a squeak of relief when you feel it arrive at your hips. The squeak is cut off by a sudden choking fit, coughs tearing out of your throat as your hands fly to your neck in a hasty attempt to get rid of the oil. Need to breathe, need to breathe, need to breathe...
The tide's not rising fast enough, and you're certain you just heard a shout from further down the beach. You're tempted to open your eyes and see who it was, to try and call for help, but damn it the sun is too bright and you can hardly move with how much you're choking and God damn it!
You can hear more shouts, mostly a girl saying a name beginning with D, and for a second you think someone might be calling for you. You wonder how the hell Jade or Rose had managed to find you without getting their gills clogged like you have, but stop when you realise that that wasn't one of the girls who just called out. You can't place the voice, you're pretty sure the name is heading in a different direction from yours, and your more than certain you're hearing feet running on sand than a body sliding on it - that pretty much rules out a merperson finding you.
Someone stops beside you, a shadow falling over your face, and you can't hear them over your coughs and gags. You can hear a definite, "Holy shit," when you manage to get a small bit of air in, jumping at the fingers that run over your tail experimentally. You're tempted to try and lift the tail, to hit the guy with your fin as had as you can, but you don't have the strength for it. The fingers that had touched your tail are now moving one of your hands away from a set of gills, a frantic shout for someone to bring him a waterbottle after a second of what you can assume is examination. Your arm is freed as he grabs a bottle from someone (you think that's what he's done, at least), and soon enough you're feeling chilly water run over your thoat and through your gills. Some of the water washes away the oil, but not all of it is gone - it's enough for you to take in a breath, though, and that's all you need right now.
Soon enough the water stops and you're left virtually holding your breath as you wait for more. It only takes a few seconds and a couple of other 'holy shit's for more water to be dumped on you. You're thankful, finally able to open your eyes as more people seem to gather around you and hide the light from your eyes. You're not sure if you regret the choice to do so, though.
You're Dave the Majestic Salmon Boy - or so you like to call yourself - and you're certain the remaining oil clogging your gills is killing you. It has to be; there's no other explanation for seeing Bro's face, for hearing him tell you to breathe and that you'll be okay.
You're about to ask him something - you don't know what; your mind is struggling to register his face as anything other than Bro - but your voice comes to an abrupt stop as the world crashes down on you.
Your name is Dirk Strider, and you can't even begin to believe what is happening right now. Jane's freaking out and running back and forth between you and the water to keep the plastic bottle filled and ready to use, Roxy's caught between laughing and completely flipping her shit over what she's seeing, and Jake is just trying to figure out what to do while he stands there flailing a little; but none of that compares to the fact that there is a fucking half-fish boy covered in oil and laying unconscious in front of you.
Jane brings the bottle back, asking if he'll be okay, but you don't say anything as you pour more water over his gills. He breathes deeper as you do it, trying to get as much of it in his system. You wonder how long he's been like this - the nearest oil spill is too far for the first few miles of water here to be affected, and it's moving at a pretty slow rate. You shake your head; now's not the time to be thinking about this and wondering how the poor kid could've been covered with the stuff in the first place.
"Roxy," you say, looking to her as Jane takes the bottle to fill it again. "You still have that giant fish tank at your place, right?"
Almost immediately Roxy stops her laughing fit, pointing at you with a grin. "We do," she tells you. "But I sure as hell am not putting him in it. You know what happened to the last dozen fish Mom and I put in there."
The infamous tank spill, you recall. You're sure such a thing wont happen with the merman, though. "Just until we clean him up," you suggest. "Pouring bottled water over him wont exactly get rid of the oil, you know."
Jake finally takes it upon himself to stop panicking, agreeing with you as soon as he does. "Dirk has a point," he says, kneeling down on the other side of the fish boy. "What if he gets sick from the stuff and he can't get the proper help?"
"Pretty sure the only kind of sick you can get from oil is death, Jakey."
"Oh." He blinks, unsure of what to say to Roxy's response. "Well... Still, wouldn't there be something there to help clean him up?"
He gets a pout in return, but deep down you're hoping that Roxy considers this, at least. A lapse of silence passes, filled with only Jane's panicking as she hurries back and forth with the bottle and waits as you pour it over the blonde's gills. He takes in another deep breath, which seems to prompt Roxy into answering.
"Fine," she huffs. "You better have a good explanation for Mom, though. And D, while you're at it." Crap, you'd forgotten about your bro. You'll just have to deal with that when it happens, you tell yourself.
"I will," you assure her, sliding your arms under the merman and attempting to lift him. It's pretty difficult - the tail is pretty much twice as heavy as the rest of him, and you can kinda see why he couldn't get back in the water in the first place. "Jake, help me lift him," you command with a grunt, attempting to lift him on your own before Jake hurries over and helps you. It's a slow journey back to the house, and every so often you need Jane to fill up the bottle and dump water on the kid. Roxy's busy trying to call her mom, eventually getting hold of her and asking her to fill the tank downstairs. She doesn't get asked any questions, which you find to be sort of a relief; the last thing you need is for the woman to refuse thanks to an excuse she'd deem ridiculous.
You manage to stumble off of the beach, telling Jane to pour the water sparingly now, and the five minute walk from the beach to the house is doubled with the extra weight. Roxy runs ahead when the house comes into view, opening to door and waiting for you as you and Jake clumsily carry the merman inside. You walk past your bro on the way, barely responding to his quirked brow and confused hum, and make your way to the basement where Roxy's mom is just about done filling up the tank. The water comes from the ocean, that much you know, but Mom Lalonde refuses to let you investigate and figure out how she gets the water in and out within minutes. You shake your head, ridding yourself of the urge to search, and manage to get the merman into the water after awkwardly walking up the stairs and attempting not to just dump him unceremoniously. Soon enough he's breathing a little more than when you were pouring water over him, and you and Jake let out simultaneous sighs of relief. You join Roxy and Jane as they watch the merman drift around, and then turn to face Mom and Bro to answer their unasked questions.
This iss going to be a very awkward and long explanation; you know it.