This was written for anonkp (and originally posted to Tumblr), who encouraged me to turn my wish for an episode post "To Live and Die in Mexico" with Kensi caring for a recovering Deeks.
A/N: I know I've touched on this topic in other stories before, but I don't think I've gone this in-depth. Also, emetophobia warning.
Also, the site is being glitchy and not sending me any email notifications right now, so my responses might be even more lacking than usual.
Dragging an unconscious Deeks through the Mexican desert with the federales and an arms dealer on their heels had been terrifying. There were a hundred different moments through those never-ending days when Kensi thought they would die. That she would never hear Deeks' voice or feel his touch again.
She'd been beyond grateful when Deeks woke up sooner than the doctors predicted and with seemingly few symptoms for the severity of his repeated traumatic brain injuries.
She hadn't conceived of the possibility that it could get worse once he was back home. Because recovery from a subdural hematoma compounded by dehydration and broken ribs, came with a daunting list of symptoms that they spent every day trying to manage with limited success.
This morning had gone relatively well; Deeks had slept through the night with only a few episodes of pain or nightmares (Kensi wasn't always sure of which) breaking through his medication to wake him.
"Hey, it's about time for your afternoon meds, what do you want for lunch?" she asked, stopping in the den where Deeks was partially reclined in an easy chair, eyes loosely shut and one arm slung across his chest. The chair was angled at forty-five degrees since being completely upright tended to make him dizzy, but completely flat exacerbated his nausea. An audio book played quietly in the background.
"Eh whatever. You know it's not gonna matter either way," Deeks replied, his voice so low and gravely, Kensi knew he was battling another headache. "I'm just gonna throw it up in a couple hours anyway." He cracked an eye open, a hint of blue showing through.
His skin was still a little patchy from being sunburn and he had a plethora of cuts in various stages of healing. Otherwise, on the outside, he looked better. It was inside that he battled against every day.
"I know it's rough, sweetie, but you can't not eat at all."
Deeks grimaced, clearly remembering the time he had avoided eating for most of the day and ended up dry-heaving for three hours.
"Mm, damned if do, damned if I don't," he sighed despondently. "Ok, just make it as bland as possible." He shut his eyes again, a small groove forming between his eyebrows.
Kensi leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, fervently wishing that the simple gesture could take away his pain, then headed for the kitchen.
Kensi gathered a selection of fairly innocuous foods: plain crackers, toast, yogurt, a protein shake, and chicken broth. Between his reduced appetite and cyclical vomiting, he'd been distinctly picky and uninterested in food, so she tried to provide a variety with the hope he'd get a reasonable number of calories in the end.
Then she grabbed the row of orange canisters lined up on the wall beside the sink with explicit timing and administration instructions. After two weeks, Kensi could dispense them without too much thought, but she still checked the labels to be sure. The last thing she wanted to do was set Deeks back with an overdose.
When she had the 8 different pills counted out, a glass of water and Gatorade, and the food set up, she carried the full tray back to the den. Deeks had shifted onto his side in the time she'd been gone, and she noticed the audio book wasn't playing anymore.
"Lunch is served," she announced quietly.
Deeks picked at the toast, ripping a few pieces off and chewing them with obvious effort, in between downing the pills with sips of Gatorade, and managed a couple ounces of the protein drink before he pushed the tray back with a quick shake of his head.
"I'm sorry, I can't," he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. His skin was already paler than a few minutes before and he inhaled shallowly through his nose, exhaling slowly, eyes and jaw clamping shut again.
He stayed that way, barely moving, for a few minutes, and Kensi almost thought he would be alright. Then his face grayed completely, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. He shoved himself out of the chair with a desperate sound, stumbling into the doorway on his way through.
"Crap," Kensi muttered, hurrying after him. She made in time to see him on his knees, arm braced against his torso as he retched. Kneeling behind him, she rubbed his lower back, providing support when his strength began to wane.
After several minutes, he moved back, slumping sideways into the closest wall with a pained groan.
Kensi wet a washcloth with cold water and gently wiped the sticky sweat from his skin. He shivered in response, goosebumps appearing wherever she ran the cloth, but he didn't complain.
When she was done, Deeks let her pull his upper body against her chest. She'd figured out that once the initial wave of vomiting was over, talking helped, so she kept up a low hum of chatter.
"Sam said Callen's doing a lot better. He's driving the nurses crazy," she said.
Deeks tilted his head, just a small movement against her, making a sound of confusion. "Nurses? I thought he was home."
Kensi didn't speak for a moment, thrown off as she always was when he experienced a memory lapse.
"Um…no, he's still in the hospital. Probably for a couple more weeks at least while his lung heals and he gets his stamina back up."
"Oh." He shivered again, and Kensi pressed her hand against his cheek, finding it slightly cool.
"Hey, you think you're going to be sick again?"
He shook his head a single time.
Kensi helped him up to rinse his mouth, supporting most of his weight as exhaustion and disequilibrium set in again. Them made their way into the bedroom, and Kensi got Deeks settled in bed before going around to close all the curtains.
She moved around quietly, getting a fresh glass of water, anti-nausea meds, a sleep mask in case he needed it. Afterwards, she slid into bed next to Deeks, tucking herself into his side.
"You know, you don't have to stay in here with me," Deeks murmured, voice rough with barely any volume to it. It wasn't the first time he'd said so in moments like this, but Kensi didn't think this was a case of his ongoing memory deficits so much as a reminder. He got morose and defeated some days, believing he was a burden.
"Where else would I be?" Kensi asked simply.
"Yeah, cause we all know sitting in a dark, quiet room is so exciting. Can't even watch TV."
"I don't mind." It was the truth. She wished Deeks could distract himself with binging the latest Netflix offering. That the sound and screen time wouldn't make his headaches, vision, and vertigo worse. For herself though? She'd happily lay in bed in the dark all day and night with Deeks.
She combed her fingers through his hair, listening to Deeks' breath even out slowly. "I thought I lost you so many times Deeks. It's going to be a long time before I get tired of hearing you breathe, feeling your hand under mine, seeing you laugh at me." She swallowed down the tight feeling in her throat because she didn't need to add her tears into the mix. "I love you and you're not getting rid of me that easy."
Deeks huffed a soft sound that might have been a laugh, tilting his head to rest against hers. "Like I'd ever want that. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Kensi's eyes did fill with tears at that, and she hugged him closer. Deeks made another soft sound, body going limp with the tell-tale sign of oncoming sleep.
"I love you, Marty Deeks," she repeated, cupping his cheek. "In sickness and in health."
A/N: Hope this is suitably whumpy and hurt/comfort filled.