dark_ages | landing party ( for thecanarylives )

landing party ( for thecanarylives )

[ He comes to with his head pounding, his vision blurred, and a persistent ringing in his ears. It takes him a while-- a good while, maybe seconds or maybe minutes, to even regain his vision properly, and to take in his surroundings. He's in a shuttle, which is completely wrecked, panels broken and burnt, wires hanging from everywhere, sparks going off and small fires here or there. They're also tilted forward slightly, so he can feel his weight pushing against the belts keeping him strapped to his chair. He looks beyond the window and he sees a lush forest just outside, trees and blue skies as far as the eye can see. It'd be pretty if not for the fact that they've clearly crashed on the planet they were supposed to land on.

Shit. Holy shit, they crashed. How the fuck did they crash? Leonard just wanted to gather some samples from the surface, it didn't even warrant a landing party bigger than two people, how the fuck did they end up like this?

That thought gets his brain into gear. Because he's not alone. He looks over to find Sara passed out, though at least thankfully still strapped to her seat. He lets out a shuddered breath, trying not to panic as he struggles to undo his own safety belt. ]

Sara!! Come on, you piece of shi-- [ His panicked grousing is cut off as his belt comes undone, and he just barely manages to brace himself against the controls rather than slam right into them. Head still spinning, he nevertheless forces himself to stumble towards her, looking her over briefly for possible injuries before he cups her face, trying to wake her up. ] Sara. Hey, can you hear me? Come on, open your eyes...

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[ She watches curiously as he gets on the mat, toweling the sweat off the back of her neck. ]

I'm not gonna fight you, Doc. [ She quirks a small smile, crossing her arms over her chest. ] I think you've taken enough beatings lately, don't you?

Who, me? Fit as a fiddle. Well— not you fit, but you know what I mean.

[ Besides, it's hardly a fight. The last time she went very easy on him, so he knows she won't hurt him.

But this does leave him at a position where he just has to say what he really came here for. He bucks up, letting out a sigh before changing the subject entirely. ]

Fine, then. Have dinner with me.

[ She's suddenly very aware of her current state, sports bra and joggers drenched in sweat, hair sticking to her cheeks, face flushed.

Hesitating a moment, her voice softens as she takes a moment to let his words sink in. ]

You're sure?

Wouldn't be here askin' you if I wasn't, so. Yes.

[ At some point she will have to stop asking him whether he's sure. He may be a lot of things, but he doesn't think he comes across as indecisive all that often. ]

I mean, it doesn't, uh... have to be today or anything. Or it can be later today, so you have time to shower and all that.

[ He wouldn't mind necessarily, but sitting in her own sweat for a meal probably wouldn't be too comfortable. ]

[ Obviously, she's still working through a few things. Including the fact that she'd more or less resigned herself to being on her own again.

She hesitates, glancing at the time. ] No, I... I can do tonight. Gimme an hour? Where should I meet you? [ After the scene she'd made in sick bay, she's not entirely sure having their first date somewhere public is the best idea. ]

[ His shoulders fall as tension slips from him with a breath. Oh, good. She's saying yes. He wasn't even aware he was worried that she might say no until just then. ]

My quarters. I think that's the best option.

[ Besides it has a sitting area with a small dining table, so it's roomier while being completely private. Mess hall would just have too many people, wouldn't work for him. ]

See you in an hour, then?

[ There's something sweet in the relief that eases into his shoulders when she agrees, and a smile sneaks its way onto her lips at his response. ]

See you in an hour.

[ It's not until she's alone that the panic actually settles into the pit of her stomach. Shit. She's in over her head here. Training with an army of killers? Sure. Taking on a battalion of Klingons head on? Why not.

But when was the last time she'd been on a date, for god sakes?

She books it to the showers, scrubbing herself down before throwing on a pair of sweats and a shirt and heading to her room. It takes her a while to dig up any clothing she owns that's not Starfleet issue or sporty casual, but eventually she throws on a simple black dress with a pair of boots, shrugging on her leather jacket and putting on a little eyeliner and lipstick.

She's buzzing his door at the top of the hour, a bottle of wine tucked into the pocket of her jacket. ]

[ It hasn't been as long to Leonard, but still he's a little rusty. Not enough to worry him, however. He dims the lights just a hint, puts on some slow music quietly in the background, then places two artificial candles on the table. For his outfit, he chooses a pair of dark blue slacks with a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and some plain shoes. He also fixes his hair up a little, maybe tries a bit of cologne just because, hoping that's not too over the top.

At the ring, he goes to open the door rather than doing it by verbal command, eyebrows raising at first before he's smiling at her. ]

You look nice. [ Well, she always looks nice. But still. ] Come on in.

[ There's a chance her heart is pounding hard in her chest as she waits for him to answer, silently praying none of the crew happens to walk by and see her looking like this outside his door.

But when he does answer, she's momentarily distracted from all the tension by the sight of him out of uniform, a smile tugging at her lips. ]

Back atcha. [ She follows him inside, glancing around the dimly lit room, at the flicker of candlelight. ] Wow. Not bad.

[ The way she answers surprises him none, and he smiles back with a bit of an amused chuckle, closing the door behind them. He has half a mind to say he's rusty but he has had some practice, but instead he opts for a simple, ]

Thank you. I'm glad you like it.

[ Quite frankly, he wasn't sure if Sara would be the type of woman to enjoy this kind of cliché romantic date, but then it's not like options are abound on a starship. Especially when privacy is such a big factor on their first date. ]

Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I'm afraid it's just replicator food since I couldn't cook anything, [ for safety and security reasons she's likely all too aware of. ] but we don't have to rush to dig in. Maybe I can get you something to drink?

[ She gravitates towards the table, fingertips skimming along the edge of it, watching the artificial flames dance lightly in their holders. She's not sure what she'd been expecting - hadn't had much time to think about it, really - but it's... nice. The effort he's put in.

She turns back to face him, shrugging at the mention of food. ] What, you didn't roast me a wild animal caught with your bare hands?

[ Belatedly, she remembers the bottle of wine weighing down her jacket, tugging it out and offering it to him before claiming one of the seats at the table. ] I won this off Uhura in a poker game. She was pissed, so it's probably pretty good.

[ Maybe he worried for like a fraction of a second that this all might be a bit too much for her, but then he figured— well, if he's doing this, then he sure as hell is putting in some effort. Nothing overboard, just a few touches here and there. He does want it to be special. ]

I know, it's like I know nothing about romance.

[ He shoots an eyebrow up, crooked little smile as he takes the wine from her. ] Wow. Yeah, it is good. Let's just hope she doesn't try to challenge you for a rematch to get it back.

[ And he's opening the bottle. Whoops, too late now. ]

[ The last real, normal date she can remember was back in college, and it definitely involved a fake ID and a shitty dive bar. He's doing just fine. ]

I guess I can settle for music and candlelight.

[ She smiles up at him, enjoying that small quirk of his lips for a moment before she shrugs in reply. ]

Please. She's lucky I kept it this long. Maybe don't mention it to her, though. I think she's finally starting to like me.

And after you stole her best wine from her. I'm impressed.

[ He pours them two glasses, setting the bottle on the table for now, then sitting across from her to raise his in a small toast. ]

For the record, it's not a cooked meal but the recipe is an exact copy of one of my specialties. I can attest for the quality, even coming from a replicator.

I taught her some Vulcan fighting moves. Kind of afraid to know what's using them for.

[ She chuckles, picking up the glass and raising it to match his gesture. ]

You can cook, huh? Does it come with peach cobbler for dessert?

[ He laughs at that. Guess he'll know if Spock shows up in sick bay sporting strange new bruises. ]

I can, and I am fairly good at it. And I guess you'll have to stick around until dessert to find out what it is.

Tease.

[ She shoots him a grin, clinking the lip of her glass to his and taking a sip. ]

Mm. Damn. That is good.

As if you don't like it.

[ Either way, it's not like the date in itself is that exciting, so he may as well keep some bits a secret. (It's no secret, though, she got it right. It's definitely peach cobbler.) ]

It is, [ He nods slowly in approval after a sip of his own. ] I'm surprised she's managed to get her hands on something like this out here. Maybe she's brought it along with her from Earth.

[ She just chuckles, because he's definitely right about that much. Taking another sip of her wine, she sets the glass down, fingers toying along the rim of the glass. ]

Seemed like she'd had it for a while, so maybe. [ She quirks a small smile. ] Though if she was planning on sharing it with Spock, I think it's safe to say we're appreciating it more than he might.

All too true. Real alcohol is wasted on a Vulcan, [ He nods, taking another sip, then setting the glass down on the table. May as well just have synthehol since he can't get drunk anyway. ]

But maybe let's not get overboard like the last time we shared a drink.

[ Not that he'd mind the night ending that way, just maybe with less hangover in the morning. ]

Should I get us our dinner?

So we're really doing her a favor, right? [ She smiles, leaning back in her chair and chuckling. ] I dunno, last time was kinda fun.

[ She sips her wine innocently, nodding. ] Sure. Let's see this mysterious specialty of yours, Dr. McCoy.

It can still be fun without getting completely shit-faced, don't you think?

[ He winks at her while getting to his feet, making his way over to the replicator. The table's set with nice plates, cutlery and all, so he brings with him a large tray with some nice-looking (and nice-smelling) chicken and vegetable roast. Steam still wafts from the food as though it just finished cooking, and he sets it down on a base on the table, waiting for her to help herself first. ]

I guess that's fair.

[ She chuckles, straightening a little as he brings the tray of food to the table. Both eyebrows quirk upwards at the spread, and she glances up at him before cutting herself a piece of breast and a leg. ]

Okay, now you're just trying to make me look bad.

[ Her comment draws a laugh from him, as he waits for her to help herself to however much food she wants. ]

Me? Hardly. Why'd you think that?

[ It's not a competition here, and he was the one asking her out after all.

Once she's done, he takes a small piece of chicken too, and a couple spoonfuls of the vegetables. ]

[ The hours spent in the training room with not much more than a protein shake in her stomach are hitting hard, but she tries not to be too much of a neanderthal considering the setting.

She takes a bite of chicken and some carrots, groaning her appreciation and washing it down with a sip of wine. ]

There's just a really big difference between the food I roasted and the food you roasted. [ She grins, leaning back in her chair and taking another bite of chicken. ]

Where'd you learn to cook?

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