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The area of Fort Baker, California was well known throughout the state as the place to go if you really wanted to make something of yourself. The grounds of Starfleet Academy were situated there, boasting courses that ranged from Xenobiology to Advanced Warp Core Theory in large scale, high rise buildings that showed off beautiful architecture.
The Burgundy Room, also located in the area of Fort Baker, California, was well known throughout the Academy as a place you didn’t stray to. The place was notorious for drawing in one type of crowd and one type only; the punks. The rockers, the ruffians, the miscreants and the delinquents all resided in the darkened establishment smoking and drinking for all they were worth.
The failures and the dropouts occupied this place. The damaged, the broken, the rough and the ready along with the throw outs and could’ve done betters. Each term a new set of faces would come through the door as fresh as a daisy on the first day of spring either out of sheer curiosity or pure deliberation, but within a matter of days they’d look just like the rest of them.
Kirk had been one of the fresh faced cadets several weeks ago, turning up to the bar in his pristine red uniform, his hair perfectly parted and combed and his shoes gleaming. This ensemble had given some of the usual patrons a great deal of entertainment for the night, but one of them had merely raised an eyebrow in his direction before returning to his drink.
Learning his lesson, Kirk had turned up a few nights later in jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a leather jacket; he still didn’t wholly fit in, but he didn’t turn so many heads this time. He tried and failed to flirt with a barmaid who had piercing green eyes that were overly intensified by the outline of black kohl that surrounded them, not to mention the head of greatly volumised panther black hair that framed her face.
She’d brushed Kirk off so easily that he almost felt disappointed, but he assumed that with a face and body such as the ones she possessed, she was used to the attention from the patrons and therefore used to shrugging it off no matter how attractive the blue eyed blonde had been to her sights.
Across the bar however, Kirk had seen the same man who’d raised a brow at him a few nights ago and swore he’d caught him glancing his way. He thought for a second about getting up and going over, but when he glanced up again, the green eyed barmaid was collecting a five dollar bill for the man’s drink and he was vacant from his seat.
When Jim made his way in on Friday night, Hendrix was playing overhead and he watched the black haired barmaid have a stern argument with a drunken customer before she literally threw him out of the door. As she walked back to the bar, Jim thanked his lucky stars that his flirtation hadn’t progressed because he was just a tiny little bit intimidated by her.
By now, Jim had visited enough to have a usual and the barmaid set it in front of him with a quirk of a smile before she moved to the other side of the bar to where the man Jim had seen several nights ago sat. He chatted to the barmaid in a tone that suggested he’d known her for a long time and therefore had probably been a customer here for a while.
She moved away to collect some glasses from a table and Jim caught the man’s eye for the briefest of moments before his gaze fell to his attire.
He could only see his top half since the rest of him was tucked beneath the bar. A leather jacket clung to his torso, the shoulders lined with thin, silver spikes, the collar decorated with flat, square studs the whole way around it. Silver buckles fasted around the sleeves and the jacket was only half zipped up and folded back on itself to reveal a red tartan lining.
A centuries old band name plastered the part of the shirt Jim could see beneath the jacket; he was sure it was a Misfits shirt which seemed typical for 90% of the people in the establishment.
He watched curiously as the man lit a cigarette, his lighter held in clasped hands that were laden with grubby sticking plasters. His fingers and some fingernails were taped up with them, some thicker than others, whilst his knuckles were littered with days old cuts and grazes.
He didn’t look to be the fighting type, but Jim wouldn’t put it past him.
Whilst the man was occupied in lighting his cigarette, Jim cautiously looked at his face. He had a head of unruly brunette hair with a fringe that was dangerously close to being in his eyes and dark eyelashes to match. Both his ears were stretched, holding two, solid black plugs and he had a labret piercing that held a thin, black ring instead of a stud.
When he put his lighter down, Jim’s eyes snapped back to the bar top and he hoped he’d not been caught looking. He was sadly mistaken when he dared to look up and found the man looking back at him. He felt his cheeks flush vermillion before he threw down the cash for his drink and left with the man’s hazel eyes watching after him as he went.
Even if he had been faintly embarrassed the night before, Jim had returned to the bar the next night to find the man sitting in his spot in his usual attire with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he chatted with the barmaid.
Jim’s usual drink was waiting for him and he hesitantly took the seat by the man and nodded a thanks to the barmaid, but she nodded to the man by his side before she went to collect glasses.
“You know, you stick out like a sore thumb, kid,” the man said from Jim’s side, startling him a little. “Though I’m glad to see you didn’t show up in your damn uniform.”
“Um, thanks,” Jim answered, unsure of whether he ought to be offended or not.
“I’m Leonard,” the man finally introduced himself, half turning to Jim as he did so. “Leonard McCoy. And I just feel so damn sorry for you sittin’ by yourself every night. More so for Evangeline who politely puts up with your god awful flirtin’ skills.”
Jim watched Leonard smile, the labret piercing catching the light as he did so; it was a silver stud today and the plugs in his stretched ears were transparent to match. It took him a while to register that Leonard probably wasn’t from around these parts, not with an accent like that.
“I’m Jim, Jim Kirk,” Jim answered, not sure whether to offer a hand or not; he decided not since Leonard was lighting up a second cigarette since Jim had taken his seat. “You go to the academy? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
Leonard snorted so hard with laughter that Jim thought he might be choking, but after a moment or so, Leonard calmed down enough to answer him.
“Kid, do I look like I go to the academy?” he answered. “Hell, I got kicked out of that place a long time ago. One too many pranks at medical. Not one of ‘ems got a sense of humour, let me tell you. As from bein’ from round these parts, nah, I’m from good ol’ Georgia.”
Jim considered his words as he took a drink; he’d gotten a name and a place out of the man and he supposed that was more than what he could’ve hoped to ever learn about him but it still didn’t stop him from asking.
“Why are you speaking to me?” Kirk frowned. “I’ve seen you sit alone by yourself for several nights, never bothering with anybody else, now you’re sitting over here with me.”
Leonard looked down at the drink he was nursing between his hands that were swathed in fresh sticking plasters. Jim could smell the aroma of bourbon and stale cigarette smoke coming from Leonard’s jacket and wondered if he was actually drinking bourbon.
“I told you,” Leonard said after he downed the drink in one. “You got me feelin' sorry for poor Evangeline.”
“You sure that’s the reason?” Jim raised a blonde brow, his usual flirtatious charm leaking into his words; he couldn’t help it, rugged as Leonard was, he sure as hell was handsome. “Because you look my way an awful lot.”
“Well, ain’t you just full of yourself,” Leonard cocked his head to one side, hazel eyes scrutinizing the young cadet, but he was smiling ever so slightly. “Drink up, blue eyes.”
“Pet names,” Jim said as he took a drink from the beer bottle in front of him. “I don’t usually go for those on a first date, but I can let it slide.”
Leonard opened his mouth to protest, but when he saw Jim’s lips sitting in a curve, he remained quiet, brow frowning over hazel eyes as if he’d only just come to the realisation that befriending this cocky blonde could be a potentially hazardous idea.
Going along with Jim’s comfortableness of being around him, Leonard decided to get his own back as he rested crossed arms on the bar top.
“A date, huh,” Leonard ruminated. “Didn’t think pretty boys dated punks, but I could let that slide.”
Leonard raised his brow as he requested a second drink and out of the corner of his eye, he watched Jim struggle to find words.
“Yeah,” Jim said some moments later, eyes daring to find Leonard’s own. “I could too.”
Leonard gave a slanted smirk, the light shining against the stud beneath his bottom lip. As he turned back to the bar and his drink, Jim was left to the mercy of his thoughts, wondering what it would be like to kiss someone with a lip piercing and speculating as to whether Leonard was inked up beneath his clothes.
Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wait too long to discover the answers to his questions.