Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of the Star Trek canon characters.
She always brought a bottle to the ship's doctor on the first night. It was a sign of respect, and it didn't hurt to kiss the ass of whoever was going to be mending you when you were sick or hurt. Leonard McCoy was a southerner, from Georgia, she assumed that a bottle of Kentucky bourbon would please him just fine. She knocked on the door with intense trepidation, feeling fear of rejection coat her stomach and salivary glands.
"Dr. McCoy?" She asked. The doors slid open automatically and she kicked herself for knocking. Old habits die hard.
"Who the hell are you?" He snapped, not bothering to look up from his work; it was all medical filing as far as she knew, taking the names of the newest officers and adding them to the system. He finally turned around, turning the holoscreen on the desk off. "Well my, my, my. Who have we got here? And with a bottle of bourbon nonetheless." Despite the uneasy feeling in her stomach, she smiled, displaying mostly white, straight top teeth.
"Lieutenant Lesley Ray. I thought I'd start the mission off with a gift. Seeing as how I'm accident prone and that, you'll probably be seeing a lot of me." She looked at him for a brief second, then to the bottle in her hand, extending it forward. He got up and took the bottle, inspecting it.
"Kentucky bourbon? You don't fuck around Lieutenant. Where you from? I think I hear a little New England in that accent. Come, sit, I'll pour us some drinks." He had gone from abrasive to endearing in a few minutes flat- though Lesley wasn't entirely sure if it was her "All-American Girl" appearance or the promise of an alcoholic beverage. Finally, at ease, she took the seat nearest the desk where he'd been working. "Work's about done for the day, nothing I can't manage unless there's a terrible medical emergency. And someone would have to fuck up pretty bad to get injured on the first night. Could get a demerit for it, even." He mused, taking two glasses out of a drawer. Lesley felt her mouth turn upward into a smile. He was prepared; she'd found another drinker.
"You guessed right, Doctor. Caribou, Maine." He slid a glass across the desk and her smile widened. She downed it with efficiency, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and letting the burn of the alcohol slide down her throat and radiate into her body. "More like bumfuck Maine if I'm being completely honest."
"Don't even get me started on rural areas, Lieutenant. And please, Bones is fine. I grew up on a farm in Georgia. Talk about isolation. Christ."
"Bones?" She inquired, watching him down his drink. "Spare me the formality. Lesley is fine." He looked at her, smirking, and poured another round.
"Cunt of an ex-wife took everything I had in our divorce." Lesley seized at the mention of an ex-wife. The doctor began laughing, a hearty sound that rang through the small office they were in. "Sweetheart, you're a looker but you're too young for me. Took everything I had and left me with my bare bones. A real bitch. I had a daughter and she managed to take her too. I just wonder where it all went wrong sometimes. We were so in love when we met, a beautiful daughter." He shot the bourbon back quickly so the tang would hit his tongue and his stomach, nothing else. "So what about you? You got something fucked up too. I can see it in your eyes."
Lesley sipped the bourbon, tasting it this time and considering how much she should tell him. Alcohol involved- he may not remember, she thought. Then: Relax. Christ. How many friends do you have right now? Zero. One won't hurt.
"My father was a drug addict." She stated, throwing the rest of the drink down her throat. Bones refilled the cup before she even had a chance to set it back down on the table. Her head was swimming now and her hands felt dangerous, both light and heavy at the same time. "He hurt his back doing construction down to Sherman. Reconstructing the 95 and making it safer for flying cars. Really liked the painkillers. So much so, in fact," Lesley paused before taking another swig. "That he started crushing 'em up and snorting 'em." She looked up at the doctor again, trying to read his face. She often found people looking at her in contempt, or worse, pity, after she told her story. "Mom didn't like it too much. Kicked him out of the house a couple'a times, he always came back though. Last night I ever saw him alive he was having a seizure on the couch."
Bones stared at a spot on his desk, slightly uncomfortable. A heavy yet relatable topic for a night of drinking. He didn't do well with sad drunks. "Shit." He remarked. "That got one of my brothers."
"Enough of that shit." Lesley said suddenly. "You into music?" Bones roared with laughter once again. Her face lit up into a winning smile. "20th century. Newer shit all sounds the same. Like computers fucking."
"Pick something good for me, missy." Bones said, throwing Lesley a PADD, and she sifted through the songs until finding something she liked. "Jim's gonna have a conniption fit once he finds out there's someone else here who jives like he does."
"Who the fuck is Jim?" Lesley asked, looking up at Bones.
"Captain."
"Oops." She remarked, barely aware of the faux-pas. Bones merely giggled.
"I think you're gonna fit in well here. Trust me, Jim wouldn't mind. On the shuttle to the Academy I shared a flask with him." Bones assured her, to which she smiled. "Only one I'd say to watch out for is the Commander. He's a real piece of work."
"A wicked pisser, eh?"
"I like that expression. Maine vernacular, I'm guessing." Bones nodded, pouring yet another round. "His lady recently left him for a Scottish engineer after there was a falling out over the Harrison incident- you have to have heard about that."
Lesley leaned back in her chair. "Ayuh." The bourbon was swirling steadily in the glass, making a small whirlpool.
"Scotty had a bit of a falling out with Jim over the missiles. The Commander's girl, Nyota, left with him. Said she couldn't take how pedantic and 'emotionally unavailable' he was. Don't blame her, personally. He may be half-human but he's a Vulcan through and through to me, at least."
Fuck. Lesley's mind raced. The room was spinning. She threw the drink back. Only one remedy for this.
"You mind if I smoke?" She asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket. "Old habits die hard." An echo of the thought she had upon knocking.
"Oh hell, I didn't know that was a thing anymore. You weren't kidding about bumfuck Maine." This caused Lesley to erupt in a fit of laughter. "Fine by me, nothing in here that can be tampered with by cigarette smoke as far as I know. Spot me one while you're at it. Haven't had one since before I was married." She slid one of the cigarettes out of the case and handed it over, he plucked it delicately from the pack and arranged it jauntily in his mouth.
"One thing I do know, Bones. No matter how far we boldly go, the Philip Morris company is always gonna be taking money from suckers like me." She put the cigarette in her mouth and lit it, inhaling. The first cigarette since coming on this mission. Usually she had to hide in her bathroom. She slid the lighter across the table to him. He lit up, inhaled, and exhaled almost immediately, going into a coughing fit.
"Fucking Christ. And you make it look so elegant." He said in between gasps for air.
"Why thank you dearest Doctor Leonard McCoy." She responded in a mock high-society accent, sending them both into fits of laughter. She blew the smoke up into a grey plume above her head. Fuck. The room was still spinning.
Half a cigarette later, the doors slid open.
"Dr. McCoy! Lieutenant Ray! It has been made clear that smoking is prohibited on this starship."
"Fuck," McCoy muttered under his breath. He crushed the cigarette out on his desk. Lesley looked to the source of the noise, blowing smoke out of her nose. A tall, foreboding Vulcan with dark looks and a disapproving expression. She guessed who it was almost immediately, but her words tumbled out too quickly to control.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Bones gave her a slap on the arm. "That's the Commander, shut the fuck up!" He hissed, and she looked from him to the Vulcan helplessly, silently, trying to find adequate words.
"Drinking alcohol is also prohibited, as this appears to be not a synthehol-based substance. Lieutenant Ray, that will be one demerit." The Commander said, and Lesley couldn't help but hear his voice as nauseatingly booming. She sighed, attempting to get up and take an exit, but fell back into her chair.
"One demerit for highly unprofessional behavior in a professional context." The Commander repeated. "It would be for the best if you left for your quarters and saw me in the morning to receive your written warning, Lieutenant Ray."
"I don't think she can get up, Spock." Bones muttered; Lesley had fallen into her own lap.
"Lieutenant Ray, I will escort you to your quarters." Spock informed her and grabbed her arm, dragging her upwards. It took her nearly a full minute to regain her balance. "Dr. McCoy, I will oversee this on your part, as you are essential to our mission.
"If you're gonna fuck me that hard at least take me to dinner first." Lesley slurred as Spock dragged her out the door.
"I am also willing to overlook that comment on the condition that no more will be made."
"Whatever." She replied, pouting. A real wicked pisser indeed.