A/N: My first Kirk/Spock story! Yaay! They are *so* the best. Lol. So I always have a song for my favourite couples, and I've decided that my song for Kirk/Spock is "Until We Bleed," be Kleerup ft. Lykke Li, hence the name of this fic. Okay, so this contains some slash, and some friendship. Warning … also a character death. Enjoy…
Until We Bleed.
The warm blood ran over his pale hands, his hands which seemed remarkably tanned compared to the frigid skin that they pushed against, fervently attempting to squelch the flow of viscous red fluid, fluid which seemed to be gushing too fast. Spock pressed his thin, white fingers against Kirk's stomach, his skin touching his friend's flesh. The flesh lay directly beneath his cold fingers because Kirk's shirt had been torn open by claws that had ripped viciously through his skin. A tear began to trickle down Spock's cheek as he applied pressure against his friend's skin.
The vulcan's hands shook violently, and he could not control them. He closed his eyes, his thin lips greedily gasping for air that seemed too dry, too light, air that was not satisfying. Suddenly, his sensitive nose was overwhelmed with the repugnant scent of raw, metallic blood. Spock winced gently, opening his eyes and looking into the worn, slightly scared ones of his companion.
"It will be okay," he whispered in a meagre attempt at comforting his fallen comrade. It was unsuccessful, for one reason. It wasn't going to be okay. They both knew it.
Even if they were to be beamed aboard the Enterprise in the next few seconds, something that both knew was impossible, it would still not be quick enough to save Kirk's life. With this realization, Spock began to cry harder, allowing his emotions to cloud his thoughts and judgement more than he should, more than he was used to, but at this moment, he didn't really care. Only one thing was important, Kirk.
"It will be okay," he repeated, his voice a gruff whisper. He knew it was a lie, and he knew that the other was aware of that as well, but he had to say it. He had to say it to provide them both with something that they needed in that moment. Hope. It was a false hope, a fuzzy dream based on a lie, but it was something. It was something that dulled the pain, the ache that they felt tearing inside their hearts.
Kirk looked up into the dark, misty eyes of his friend. "I know," he whispered, "I know."
Spock smiled, it was a watery smile, a smile filled with nothing but a love - a pure, unconditional love.
He knew what the dying man wanted, and who was he to deny this man his last, unspoken wish? Spock leant forward, taking a deep breath, and this time focusing on the man's warm, spicy scent, rather than the overpowering smell of blood and death. It was nice, not intoxicating, but pleasant.
As he moved closer, Kirk's eyes widened slightly in realization, and he began to move towards the vulcan. Each breath they drew through their lips was rough, and the warm air ghosted along their skin, mingling between their faces.
Kirk's eyes were brimming with a rare anticipation, a crackling excitement. Are you sure? He asked, never really speaking the words, but his body screaming them as he hesitated.
Spock read his gestures easily. Yes. He nodded.
Then, their lips met. It was a passionate kiss, a kiss that conveyed a bright, burning friendship, and a sparklingly pure love.
Kirk's lips moved vigorously, taking advantage of the moment he had been waiting for, for what felt like eternity. They carved and ground roughly and sweetly against Spock's.
Spock's lips moved more gently, caressing and smoothly embracing his friend's. This wasn't for him, he had never had romantic feelings for Kirk, this was for his friend, because this was what he wanted, this was what he needed.
The kiss was not a romantic one, not on both sides. It was a kiss of joy, of charity, of wish granting beauty. It was an unselfish gesture made to appease a loved one, a wounded friend who he loved with his whole heart.
They broke apart then, both breathless and gasping for air. Some of the agony had ebbed slightly from Kirk's flaring eyes.
"Thank-you," he whispered, his pale lips forcing themselves open as he gasped out those two words.
Spock smiled another watery smile, nodding his head but refusing to speak, refusing to acknowledge that this was the end. That this was goodbye.
Kirk caught the vulcan's face in his hand, using his remaining energy to do so. He wiped away his friend's warm tears, and smiled.
"I love you," he murmured, letting his hand fall gently back to his side.
They sat in silence, Spock's eyes following the stream of ruby fluid that poured over his fingers, and Kirk closing his eyelids gently.
Slowly, the man's heart stopped beating, and Spock was left pressing his pale fingers against the cold body of his friend. His friend who no longer breathed, who no longer spoke, or laughed, or cried, or smiled. His friend who no longer kissed.
"I – I love you too." Spock whispered, the thin smile fading from his lips.
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