Dive Bar Singer
Title: Dive Bar Singer
Author: ageofalejandro
Rating: T
Genre: Romance? -ish? Humor and fluff, certainly.
Warnings: Discussion of novel ways to use humane traps, language, mentions of past public-ish sexy tiem
Prompt: So maybe Bones is singing his way through Georgia, living off his tips and out of his car, till he meets a handsome stranger who could give him the break he needs. Or maybe Jim is a roadie with a crush and Bones is a big superstar. As long as Bones dons a cowboy hat and drawls through the story I'd be a happy camper. Reboot please!
A/n: For the patient hubcapspecial, whom I promised I would write this back in July - I hope you enjoy! Present-day-ish AU and every bar I have ever been to has been for an electro show, so I'm pulling this country dive bar thing out of my ass.
Leonard doesn't mind singing in dive bars, doesn't mind moving around constantly, and doesn't even really mind having to stop at a laundromat every week, but he does mind living out of his car. And by "does mind", he means he would sell his soul to regularly stay in at least motels, instead of curling up on his backseat wherever he can get away with pulling over and hoping he doesn't get a ticket.
An evening in June finds Leonard on stage, opening his set with his traditional rendition of Root Hog or Die when he noticed two shockingly slick men, lurking at the near side of the bar and watching him carefully. Leonard sang on, occasionally eying the pair.
...Sometimes it's dreadful stormy and sometimes it's pretty clear
You may work a month and you might work a year
But you can make a winning if you'll come alive and try
For the whole world over, boys, it's root hog or die...
The first man looked more than a little like the Geico Caveman, but he wore the flashy brown suit surprisingly well and chatted amicably with the second man between puffs on his cigar and watching Leonard.
The other man was unfairly hot and Leonard found himself staring a little more than was probably good for him. He was blond, broad shouldered, and sinfully tailored jeans clad his long legs (because there was no way jeans fit like that right off the shelf). He idly fiddled with what Leonard thought might be a silk shirt tail while looking up on the stage.Who the fuck wears silk to a bar? Why was Leonard paying enough attention to him to know that instead of the actual audience?
As Leonard transitioned into his own songs, he turned used all the showman's tricks he knew, very sternly telling himself that those two men could not possibly be talent scouts and that he was really doing this because he needed the extra tips to get his brakes fixed before they gave out at an inopportune moment and got him killed. He was, accordingly, very very aware of the approach of the blond as he made his way through the throng of the crowd and the way he stood right in front of the stage and watched him.
The gaze was at first an impartial assessment and then it became a test as the blond cocked a skeptical eyebrow and dared him to loose his nerve. Leonard found himself insulted and briefly sang the lyrics of the song at the man (which involved the word 'asshole' a lot), and was surprised by the flash of amusement and the following predatory look before the blond sauntered off.
Leonard chose not to let the whole thing shake him and lost himself in singing for the crowd. He was floored by the rousing cheer and applause that met his finale. He walked to the edge of the stage and plopped himself down on it next to his tip jar, and chatted with audience members who came to tip him, his guitar and his hat in his lap.
He hung around until closing, loitering at the bar and sipping the best shitty bourbon they had until the manager came to pay him for the night and he was assured that anytime he came through the area and wanted to put on a show, he was welcome. It was the first offer of its kind he had ever had and Leonard was happy to tell the lady that he would definitely keep that in mind.
When he turned to leave, though, he found the blond from earlier at his elbow. A beer bottle hung idly between the man's fingertips as he leaned up against the bar, all sin and languor.
"Good show," he said, a lazy smile on his lips.
"Thanks," Leonard replied warily, stuffing his pay in a pocket as he spun the barstool around to hop off.
"Play anything besides the guitar?" the man asked, keeping pace with him as Leonard made his way through drunken stragglers toward the door.
"The fiddle and the piano," Leonard responded. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm pretty sure I've got a record deal with your name on it," the man answered, that lazy smile back again. "A friend of mine heard you back in Augusta and he recommended Hennesy to me, so I--"
"Julia Hennesy?" Leonard interrupted, shocked. She was the biggest name in country for the last two years, outshining multiple established stars and if this man was involved in her signing, then Leonard was damn well going to listen.
"Uh huh," the man said patiently. "The very one. So, when Ralph called and started raving about some guy named 'Leonard McCoy' and how he has potential to be the next big thing, I listened. Spent the better part of a month hoping to catch you - you're a very hard man to find you know. That was annoying, by the way, spending nights in no-name dive bars in no-name backwoods towns listening to mediocre singers." He grinned. "But I think you might be worth it." He stopped and extended his hand. "Jim Kirk"
"Leonard McCoy," Leonard said as they shook hands, even though Kirk already knew his name. He had heard of Kirk before, but hadn't heard made the connection between name and face, or about his connection to Hennesy.
"So, are you interested in that record deal?" Kirk asked before finishing off his beer and neatly lobbing it into the nearest trash bin.
"Yeah," Leonard replied, feeling a little dizzy. "Definitely."
"Great!" Kirk chirped. "Ben Webber, the guy who was with me tonight, will want to meet you properly and then we can get everything set up. Where are you staying? Because Ben likes to do business over breakfast, the mad man."
Leonard chuckled, wanting to avid the question. "I can meet you anywhere."
Kirk eyed him for a while and asked sympathetically, "You're staying at some roach-ridden motel, aren't you? Don't worry." That predatory look appeared again. "You can stay with me, if you like."
Kirk was insanely hot and Leonard would ordinarily give it some serious thought, but this man was going to have his hands in Leonard's career, if everything fell into place like he was hoping and praying it would. So, reluctantly, he shook his head. "Don't worry about it."
Kirk gave him an exaggerated hang-dog look. "Aww. Well, we're staying at the Jackrabbit Inn on the other end of down, and breakfast will probably start around eight, so meet me there in the lobby at ten 'till."
Seven fifty found Leonard lurking awkwardly in the lobby of the Jackrabbit Inn, in his best clothing and feeling horribly under-dressed. He suspected he'd still feel under dressed in a suit from the fanciest place in Manhattan, so he pushed it aside as best he could and continued to wait for Kirk.
Who appeared just as the clock struck eight and looked a little bit guilty. "Sorry I'm late. Overslept a bit. So, ready for this?" he asked, ushering Leonard toward the small cafe attached to the inn.
"No," Leonard admitted, feeling surreal. "But hell, I'm going to go anyway."
Kirk laughed. "That's the ticket, yeah," he said with a grin.
Some years later...
"So," Leonard asked, lounging on the balcony of their countryside Georgia home. "You think Chapel'll kill me if I start trapping paparazzi?" He kicked his feet up on the railing and took a long sip from a glass of bourbon.
"Probably," Jim agreed amicably, idly watching the dogs play in the yard below. "But it's not a break between tours if you haven't pissed off your publicist some how."
"I'd even use humane traps, so I wouldn't hurt them any," Leonard went on, putting down the glass. "It would be like catching possums."
"Yeah," Jim agree with a familiar grin. "Use a naked picture of a guy who looks kind of like you and maybe a bottle of shitty vodka as a lure, and then release them someplace embarrassing."
"I don't know that a naked picture would do it, but yeah, exactly," Leonard said with a nod.
"That's true," Jim admitted and gave him a sly look. "The casino in Vegas a couple years ago means the internet has all the naked Leonard McCoy pictures it could want."
"I still don't know how I ended up taking the fall for that," Leonard complained. "Chapel gave me the third degree but gave you your coffee and a pat on the head - it was your idea to have sex there!"
"I'm just more charming than you are," Jim teased. "And she figured out within about an hour of meeting me that I'm absolutely incorrigible."
"And there's no use in trying, yeah," Leonard agreed, long suffering and affectionate.
Jim flashed him a grin. "Well yeah. Ben still hasn't let me live that down, by the way. He likes to bring it up at awkward moments, especially when introducing new interns. 'Yes, this is Jim Kirk, the man who signed Julia Hennesy and Leonard McCoy. But he handed McCoy to me so they could fuck like bunnies up against slot machines in the far corners of expensive Vegas casinos and not be ethically awkward. There's no need to be alarmed. He's not usually that red, but he'll be fine'."
Leonard laughed. "Ben would."
"Every one of the last ten interns, Bones!"
Grinning, Leonard nodded. "I should drop by the office when I'm around sometime, start makin' it even more awkward for you and those interns."
"Those poor little interns." Jim shook his head sadly, then peeped a mischievous eye at Leonard. "They'll be traumatized."
"It'll scar," Leonard agreed and stood up. "I am going to go see if I can make my assistant earn his living by finding the largest humane traps he can and buying them in bulk."
"Oh my god, yes!" Jim laughed. "You know I'm going to have to give this an operation name, right Bones?"
"You give an operation name to everything, Jim, so yes I know," Leonard said, scooping up his bourbon bottle and slamming the remnants of his glass. "Knowing you, it'll be 'operation: chapelocalypse' or something equally stupid."
Jim pouted. "I hate when you take the words out of my mouth like that."
Leonard winced. That had been a shot in the lame-ass dark. "You're contagious. I'm going to run the assistant ragged, and then we're going to dinner still, right?"
"Right," Jim agreed, rising too and stretching. He paused mid-stretch and winced, lowering the offending limb slowly. "Got a muscle knot, is all," he said when he noticed Leonard's concerned look.
Sighing, Leonard manhandled him around to take care of it. If he didn't, Jim would shrug it off until he was physically unable to shrug anymore and it was really much easier for Leonard to take care of it himself instead of letting Jim wave it off. "How did you survive before me?"
"Spit and string," Jim sighed, grimacing briefly when Leonard rubbed at a particularly difficult part of the knot.
"I just bet," Leonard muttered, deciding the knot was worked out and all was well for now. "You are getting a massage after we back from dinner, because you'll surely have a knot or eight by then, and there is nothing you can do about it."
"No complaints from me, Bones. And hey," he said softly, "thanks."
Leonard gave him a little smile. "You're welcome," he replied and reeled Jim in for a chaste kiss. Squeezing his hand briefly, Leonard took off to find his assistant. "Chekov!" he hollered as he entered their office, "I need you to buy me something!" He didn't seriously intend to buy giant traps, but Jim's laughter was worth the suspicious looks and pointed questions he was going to get from Chapel for the duration of his break, he thought with a smile.
Author: ageofalejandro
Rating: T
Genre: Romance? -ish? Humor and fluff, certainly.
Warnings: Discussion of novel ways to use humane traps, language, mentions of past public-ish sexy tiem
Prompt: So maybe Bones is singing his way through Georgia, living off his tips and out of his car, till he meets a handsome stranger who could give him the break he needs. Or maybe Jim is a roadie with a crush and Bones is a big superstar. As long as Bones dons a cowboy hat and drawls through the story I'd be a happy camper. Reboot please!
A/n: For the patient hubcapspecial, whom I promised I would write this back in July - I hope you enjoy! Present-day-ish AU and every bar I have ever been to has been for an electro show, so I'm pulling this country dive bar thing out of my ass.
Leonard doesn't mind singing in dive bars, doesn't mind moving around constantly, and doesn't even really mind having to stop at a laundromat every week, but he does mind living out of his car. And by "does mind", he means he would sell his soul to regularly stay in at least motels, instead of curling up on his backseat wherever he can get away with pulling over and hoping he doesn't get a ticket.
An evening in June finds Leonard on stage, opening his set with his traditional rendition of Root Hog or Die when he noticed two shockingly slick men, lurking at the near side of the bar and watching him carefully. Leonard sang on, occasionally eying the pair.
...Sometimes it's dreadful stormy and sometimes it's pretty clear
You may work a month and you might work a year
But you can make a winning if you'll come alive and try
For the whole world over, boys, it's root hog or die...
The first man looked more than a little like the Geico Caveman, but he wore the flashy brown suit surprisingly well and chatted amicably with the second man between puffs on his cigar and watching Leonard.
The other man was unfairly hot and Leonard found himself staring a little more than was probably good for him. He was blond, broad shouldered, and sinfully tailored jeans clad his long legs (because there was no way jeans fit like that right off the shelf). He idly fiddled with what Leonard thought might be a silk shirt tail while looking up on the stage.Who the fuck wears silk to a bar? Why was Leonard paying enough attention to him to know that instead of the actual audience?
As Leonard transitioned into his own songs, he turned used all the showman's tricks he knew, very sternly telling himself that those two men could not possibly be talent scouts and that he was really doing this because he needed the extra tips to get his brakes fixed before they gave out at an inopportune moment and got him killed. He was, accordingly, very very aware of the approach of the blond as he made his way through the throng of the crowd and the way he stood right in front of the stage and watched him.
The gaze was at first an impartial assessment and then it became a test as the blond cocked a skeptical eyebrow and dared him to loose his nerve. Leonard found himself insulted and briefly sang the lyrics of the song at the man (which involved the word 'asshole' a lot), and was surprised by the flash of amusement and the following predatory look before the blond sauntered off.
Leonard chose not to let the whole thing shake him and lost himself in singing for the crowd. He was floored by the rousing cheer and applause that met his finale. He walked to the edge of the stage and plopped himself down on it next to his tip jar, and chatted with audience members who came to tip him, his guitar and his hat in his lap.
He hung around until closing, loitering at the bar and sipping the best shitty bourbon they had until the manager came to pay him for the night and he was assured that anytime he came through the area and wanted to put on a show, he was welcome. It was the first offer of its kind he had ever had and Leonard was happy to tell the lady that he would definitely keep that in mind.
When he turned to leave, though, he found the blond from earlier at his elbow. A beer bottle hung idly between the man's fingertips as he leaned up against the bar, all sin and languor.
"Good show," he said, a lazy smile on his lips.
"Thanks," Leonard replied warily, stuffing his pay in a pocket as he spun the barstool around to hop off.
"Play anything besides the guitar?" the man asked, keeping pace with him as Leonard made his way through drunken stragglers toward the door.
"The fiddle and the piano," Leonard responded. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm pretty sure I've got a record deal with your name on it," the man answered, that lazy smile back again. "A friend of mine heard you back in Augusta and he recommended Hennesy to me, so I--"
"Julia Hennesy?" Leonard interrupted, shocked. She was the biggest name in country for the last two years, outshining multiple established stars and if this man was involved in her signing, then Leonard was damn well going to listen.
"Uh huh," the man said patiently. "The very one. So, when Ralph called and started raving about some guy named 'Leonard McCoy' and how he has potential to be the next big thing, I listened. Spent the better part of a month hoping to catch you - you're a very hard man to find you know. That was annoying, by the way, spending nights in no-name dive bars in no-name backwoods towns listening to mediocre singers." He grinned. "But I think you might be worth it." He stopped and extended his hand. "Jim Kirk"
"Leonard McCoy," Leonard said as they shook hands, even though Kirk already knew his name. He had heard of Kirk before, but hadn't heard made the connection between name and face, or about his connection to Hennesy.
"So, are you interested in that record deal?" Kirk asked before finishing off his beer and neatly lobbing it into the nearest trash bin.
"Yeah," Leonard replied, feeling a little dizzy. "Definitely."
"Great!" Kirk chirped. "Ben Webber, the guy who was with me tonight, will want to meet you properly and then we can get everything set up. Where are you staying? Because Ben likes to do business over breakfast, the mad man."
Leonard chuckled, wanting to avid the question. "I can meet you anywhere."
Kirk eyed him for a while and asked sympathetically, "You're staying at some roach-ridden motel, aren't you? Don't worry." That predatory look appeared again. "You can stay with me, if you like."
Kirk was insanely hot and Leonard would ordinarily give it some serious thought, but this man was going to have his hands in Leonard's career, if everything fell into place like he was hoping and praying it would. So, reluctantly, he shook his head. "Don't worry about it."
Kirk gave him an exaggerated hang-dog look. "Aww. Well, we're staying at the Jackrabbit Inn on the other end of down, and breakfast will probably start around eight, so meet me there in the lobby at ten 'till."
Seven fifty found Leonard lurking awkwardly in the lobby of the Jackrabbit Inn, in his best clothing and feeling horribly under-dressed. He suspected he'd still feel under dressed in a suit from the fanciest place in Manhattan, so he pushed it aside as best he could and continued to wait for Kirk.
Who appeared just as the clock struck eight and looked a little bit guilty. "Sorry I'm late. Overslept a bit. So, ready for this?" he asked, ushering Leonard toward the small cafe attached to the inn.
"No," Leonard admitted, feeling surreal. "But hell, I'm going to go anyway."
Kirk laughed. "That's the ticket, yeah," he said with a grin.
Some years later...
"So," Leonard asked, lounging on the balcony of their countryside Georgia home. "You think Chapel'll kill me if I start trapping paparazzi?" He kicked his feet up on the railing and took a long sip from a glass of bourbon.
"Probably," Jim agreed amicably, idly watching the dogs play in the yard below. "But it's not a break between tours if you haven't pissed off your publicist some how."
"I'd even use humane traps, so I wouldn't hurt them any," Leonard went on, putting down the glass. "It would be like catching possums."
"Yeah," Jim agree with a familiar grin. "Use a naked picture of a guy who looks kind of like you and maybe a bottle of shitty vodka as a lure, and then release them someplace embarrassing."
"I don't know that a naked picture would do it, but yeah, exactly," Leonard said with a nod.
"That's true," Jim admitted and gave him a sly look. "The casino in Vegas a couple years ago means the internet has all the naked Leonard McCoy pictures it could want."
"I still don't know how I ended up taking the fall for that," Leonard complained. "Chapel gave me the third degree but gave you your coffee and a pat on the head - it was your idea to have sex there!"
"I'm just more charming than you are," Jim teased. "And she figured out within about an hour of meeting me that I'm absolutely incorrigible."
"And there's no use in trying, yeah," Leonard agreed, long suffering and affectionate.
Jim flashed him a grin. "Well yeah. Ben still hasn't let me live that down, by the way. He likes to bring it up at awkward moments, especially when introducing new interns. 'Yes, this is Jim Kirk, the man who signed Julia Hennesy and Leonard McCoy. But he handed McCoy to me so they could fuck like bunnies up against slot machines in the far corners of expensive Vegas casinos and not be ethically awkward. There's no need to be alarmed. He's not usually that red, but he'll be fine'."
Leonard laughed. "Ben would."
"Every one of the last ten interns, Bones!"
Grinning, Leonard nodded. "I should drop by the office when I'm around sometime, start makin' it even more awkward for you and those interns."
"Those poor little interns." Jim shook his head sadly, then peeped a mischievous eye at Leonard. "They'll be traumatized."
"It'll scar," Leonard agreed and stood up. "I am going to go see if I can make my assistant earn his living by finding the largest humane traps he can and buying them in bulk."
"Oh my god, yes!" Jim laughed. "You know I'm going to have to give this an operation name, right Bones?"
"You give an operation name to everything, Jim, so yes I know," Leonard said, scooping up his bourbon bottle and slamming the remnants of his glass. "Knowing you, it'll be 'operation: chapelocalypse' or something equally stupid."
Jim pouted. "I hate when you take the words out of my mouth like that."
Leonard winced. That had been a shot in the lame-ass dark. "You're contagious. I'm going to run the assistant ragged, and then we're going to dinner still, right?"
"Right," Jim agreed, rising too and stretching. He paused mid-stretch and winced, lowering the offending limb slowly. "Got a muscle knot, is all," he said when he noticed Leonard's concerned look.
Sighing, Leonard manhandled him around to take care of it. If he didn't, Jim would shrug it off until he was physically unable to shrug anymore and it was really much easier for Leonard to take care of it himself instead of letting Jim wave it off. "How did you survive before me?"
"Spit and string," Jim sighed, grimacing briefly when Leonard rubbed at a particularly difficult part of the knot.
"I just bet," Leonard muttered, deciding the knot was worked out and all was well for now. "You are getting a massage after we back from dinner, because you'll surely have a knot or eight by then, and there is nothing you can do about it."
"No complaints from me, Bones. And hey," he said softly, "thanks."
Leonard gave him a little smile. "You're welcome," he replied and reeled Jim in for a chaste kiss. Squeezing his hand briefly, Leonard took off to find his assistant. "Chekov!" he hollered as he entered their office, "I need you to buy me something!" He didn't seriously intend to buy giant traps, but Jim's laughter was worth the suspicious looks and pointed questions he was going to get from Chapel for the duration of his break, he thought with a smile.