Star Trek Imagines

McCoy: New Years

It was New Years Eve, and you were at a bar near Starfleet Academy, which you were currently attending. You had gone with some friends, but they had quickly disappeared into the large crowd, presumably to consume unimaginable quantities of alcohol and find someone to kiss at midnight.

You elbowed your way through the horde of people as they drunkenly writhed in time to music that threatened to burst your eardrums and eventually made it to the bar. Evenings of drinking and partying just weren't your thing. You ordered a soda, knowing that you would be responsible for getting your friends safely back to their dorms at the end of the night.

You sipped the bubbly soda and watched a TV screen in the corner. There were only ten minutes left to go before midnight--ten minutes before yet another mundane year of missed opportunities concluded.

A man with dark hair and evidence of anger or frustration of some sort etched on his face sat down next to you and ordered a drink. He didn't seem likely to start a conversation, based on your judgements of him, and you certainly weren't going to start talking, so you just stared into your drink for a few minutes. In those few minutes, the music seemed to increase in volume and the tension seemed to become a thick and dense liquid that filled the room so that everything seemed to press in on you in an uncomfortable manor. You sighed and rubbed your forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

"Are you okay?" someone asked. You jerked your head up in surprise to find that the man next to you had spoken.

"Yeah, just starting to get a headache," you muttered.

"Here, I can help," he said, taking your hand and arm and pressing his fingers expertly onto pressure points. Your headache seemed to go away immediately. (A/N: Yes, I did just make this up. Deal with it.)

"Wow, where'd you learn to do that?"

"I'm a doctor," he replied, taking a sip of his drink. "And what is it that you do?"

"I'm currently studying xenolinguistics at Starfleet," you replied.

"Huh, small world," he remarked, "I'm also a cadet. I don't think I've ever seen you around before though."

"Yeah, I don't think I've seen you either," you said, "This is kind of amusing. You go to a bar and meet someone and they turn out to be someone you could've walked past hundreds of time on campus without ever noticing."

"Something like that," he said.

"I don't think I caught your name?"

"It's McCoy. Leonard McCoy, but my friends call me Bones."

"Because you're a doctor?" You questioned.

"No, because my ex-wife left me with nothing but my bones," he replied dryly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said, not knowing what else to say. He took another sip of his drink.

"It's the reason I joined Starfleet..." he trailed off, "Anyways, what's your name?"

"I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"(Y/n)...that's a pretty name," he said.

"Thanks."

People around you began to loudly count down as the numbers flashed across the TV screen. Maybe this year would end well.

"5!"

You sipped your soda.

"4!"

People began to throw their arms around each other and prepare to toast the new year.

"3!"

You looked up, directly into Bones's eyes.

"2!"

Bones finished off his drink in one big gulp.

"1!"

You both leaned in for a New Years kiss, each hoping for fireworks.

As his soft lips met yours, you felt the fireworks, and you found yourself excited at the prospect of the year to come.