Title: Because of You
Author: Caera1996
Disclaimer: Not mine.
W/C: 813
Rating: Part 1 – K+
Summary: Part 1 answers the following prompt from LJ's strek_id_kink. "Kirk/McCoy, post-Into Darkness fluff - Of course, this is Kirk/McCoy, so in this case the fluff would be seasoned with a heavy dose of snark. Can be as gen-ish or slashy as you like!" Part 2 will answer the following prompt from LJ's trekkink: "After seeing the movie all I wanted was for Jim and Bones having life-affirming desperate "i swear to god if you die on me again" sex."
It took a long time for Jim to wake up. And even though McCoy knew...he knew...that he'd dragged Jim back from over the brink and he would be okay, it was the longest two weeks of his life.
When Jim finally came awake with a little start and a gasp, the heart-stopping relief he felt was tightly suppressed, carefully controlled, and hidden under jokes about whether or not he was feeling like a homicidal maniac.
He wanted to say so, so much more, but the moment wasn't their's. It wasn't private, and everything he wanted to say...the words that were stuck in his chest and throat, making it hard to breathe, making him hurt and his eyes water, so that he had to focus his attention on the monitors...everything he wanted so desperately to say was private.
Not meant for pointy ears.
Now, sitting at Jim's bedside and watching him sleep, everything he'd wanted to say - needed to say - was bubbling up inside him, making his breath shudder with every exhale, taking all his strength with them, until he was slouched over the edge of the biobed and Jim's arm. Clutching his hand...so warm with life...tears darkened the blanket below him, and he stayed like that until he felt Jim's other hand in his hair, soothing him with a gentle, careful touch...and the whisper of, "I'm okay, Bones. I'm okay."
The feel of that hand, so gently touching his head, and the sound of that voice, quietly rough with sleep - just two of the many, many things McCoy thought he would never have again. Never hear again. Never feel again. The sight of Jim lying wrongly still and forever quiet and cold and...inconceivably gone. He was just gone.
For two torturous weeks, that horrible and terrifying moment was the only thing McCoy felt when he looked at Jim lying on the biobed, even as the displays told him otherwise. Because until those blue eyes opened, and until Jim spoke to him, Leonard couldn't let it go. Couldn't seeanything else.
And the painful, profound, overwhelming relief choked him, squeezing his throat until he was gasping for air. Unable to move , unable to do anything but hold on to that hand, revel in the feel of the hand on his head, and strain to hear that voice over the uncontrollable sounds of his own remembered grief and crushing fear as he tried to let it all go with the knowledge of what was now.
"I'm okay," Jim said again, his own voice wavering with the true wonder and reflected emotion of that. But he hurt. It hurt so bad to know that this is what his death had caused. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly, his voice catching. Jim squinted in the low light at the dark head, summoned all the strength he could to squeeze the hand holding so tightly on to his own.
Leonard let out a sound that could've been a sob or a laugh, wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up, meeting the sliver of blue watching him fall apart and slowly come back together again.
"No...you can't be sorry," Leonard said hoarsely. "You saved us all...again. But, God Jim...when I saw you..." Leonard trailed off, shaking his head. "Do you know? Do you even know what you are to me?"
"I know," Jim said, his voice clearer. "I know because the only one I was thinking about as I made the climb was you."
Leonard's eyes filled with tears again and he shifted, moving to sit on the side of Jim's slightly reclined bed. His eyes swept over the biostats on the consoles out of habit and responsibility, and there was only good. Still a little too weak to lean forward on his own, Leonard slipped his hands around Jim's back, and he carefully lifted Jim to him, cradling his head in one hand, guiding Jim to rest his head on his shoulder. Closing his eyes, Jim held on, hugging Bones as tightly as he could, his arms shaking with the effort.
Heart to heart, they breathed with each other. Jim lifted his head from Bones' shoulder and looked into his eyes and saw everything he felt reflected back at him. And then Bones kissed him gently, reverently, brushing their lips together with a sigh, and Jim's eyes fluttered closed.
And he knew he'd do it all over again.
"Can you take me home Bones?" Jim asked quietly as Leonard settled him back in the bed. "All I need right now is you."
And if it were anyone else with anyone else, the answer would be "no." But this was Jim, and though he was weak he wasn't ill or in any danger. He was on the mend. And Leonard would take care of him.
Leonard knew he would always take care of him.