I Won't Fall Asleep

Summary: Jim still has nightmares, but this time Spock is there to help him through.

Jim was dreaming again. Spock was awoken by a sharp elbow to his ribs, his eyes flying open instantly as he snapped from his light doze. A faint whimper reached his ears, and he rolled up onto an elbow, considering Jim with concern.

The man was curled into himself, his legs giving the occasional twitch, his face contorted in pain. As Spock watched, he gave another groan and tensed, his fingers clawing into the sheets. "Jim," Spock whispered, fearing that Jim would hurt himself if startled. He rested a tentative hand on Jim's arm, frowning when he felt how tight the trembling muscle was beneath his palm.

Jim's breathing was becoming erratic as he gulped for air, his body rolling up into a tighter ball. Spock worriedly ran a hand down Jim's back in an attempt to soothe the man. He was reluctant to attempt a meld in Jim's distressed state, and awakening Jim might prove more harmful than beneficial.

Another weak cry nearly had him reaching for Jim's face despite his previous reservations, but he limited himself to wrapping his arm around Jim's waist, curling his body around him protectively. He breathed in deeply, hoping to transfer some sense of calmness, and felt the thudding of Jim's heart through where they lay pressed chest to back.

After a while, Jim seemed to relax slightly, and Spock shifted his hand experimentally, skimming across Jim's stomach lightly.

In one fluid movement propelled by sheer adrenaline, Jim seized his wrist and twisted away, ending up straddling Spock's hips and leaning over him, pinning Spock effectively to the bed. Spock grunted as Jim's weight dropped down on his waist, a huff of air squeezed out from his torso.

Jim's blue eyes were wide open now, a drop of sweat trickling down the side of his face. There was a wildness still in his blue eyes, some part of his mind still caught in the dream.

"Jim," Spock said softly, and then he was back, staring down dazedly at Spock.

"Spock," Jim rasped. He released Spock's wrist and sat back limply, his hands shaking as they curled on his thighs. "Shit."

Spock reached up cautiously and touched Jim's arm, relieved when he was not thrown off. "Jim, it's all right."

"No, no, it's not. Shit, Spock." Jim dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, wiping away the residuals of the nightmare. "I'm so sorry."

Spock sat up, careful to not dislodge Jim. He was not yet accustomed to initiating an embrace, but he now unhesitatingly wrapped his arms around Jim, holding the tremors in. Jim was stiff beneath him initially, then slowly unfolded from himself, his hands coming up to grasp at Spock's back. "What did you dream?" Spock murmured, kissing the side of Jim's neck lightly.

"Something bad." Jim's voice was smothered against his shirt, but Spock could pick out the despair easily. "Something dark and cold and, shit, Spock, you weren't there." His fingers dug into Spock's back, hard enough to leave nail marks behind.

Spock squeezed him tighter, willing the racing human heart to slow and relax. "I am here, Jim."

A moment of silence passed, then Spock heard the muffled sob, more of a burst of air and sound than a cry. He closed his eyes, willed himself to remain calm. He was of no use to Jim crippled by emotion, no matter how much Jim's fear made him feel.

Jim shuddered, trying to restrain another sob. Spock burrowed his face into Jim's neck, keeping Jim's head in place against him with a gentle hand on the back of his head. "Damn it, Spock," Jim whispered, his voice broken and shaking. "You're going to make me depend on you if you keep this up."

"That was the plan," Spock told him mildly.

"You'll get tired of it, you'll hate me for screaming at night. I can't make it stop, I can't, and then you'll want to leave-"

Spock pulled back and crushed his mouth against Jim's, silencing his babbling firmly. Jim's mouth opened desperately beneath his, craving for everything that Spock was willing to give. Spock gave him everything and more, sucking on the tip of his tongue the way Jim liked it, scraping his teeth across his lower lip until Jim was groaning and panting into Spock's mouth. He tasted of salty tears and Spock kissed him until Jim tasted only of him.

"Then dream of me," he whispered, no longer caring how irrational his words were. Jim gave a watery laugh, and then he was crying hard against Spock's shoulder, his shoulders heaving as he hiccuped for breath. "Damn it," he kept saying, until his voice was too choked to do more than gasp for air. "Damn it damn it damn it."

And Spock let him cry, soaking his shirt and the sheets with tears and memories of dark dreams, holding him until his sobs subsided and Jim was half-asleep with exhaustion, the occasional spasm still trembling through his body.

When the tremors had stilled, Spock carefully lay them both down so that they still faced each other. He could feel Jim's erratic breaths feathering across his face, feel his warmth through the small space between them.

"I love you," Spock said quietly, one of the rare times that he found himself able to say the words.

Jim's hand found his and squeezed. "Talk to me?" he murmured sleepily.

Spock began to talk, his voice lowered until it was barely a sigh. He told Jim about his childhood, of how his father had taught him to play chess, of the times he had allowed himself to be compromised by his peers, of how much he loved Jim.

He told him all the reasons that he could never leave Jim alone and how he would do this every night if it would help the nightmares, and even after Jim's breathing slowed and his eyes closed in sleep, he kept talking until the morning came.