Plants Don't Need You To Smile - Chapter 8 Nerves
Data x Gender-Neutral Reader
Wide-eyed, you stare at the ceiling. The ceiling in this case is the underside of the bunk above you, where Kelly snores into her pillow like she has no worries. And she probably doesn’t.
You, on the other hand, have been tossing and turning since you lay down. You have tried every possible sleep position: covers over you, covers under you, covers between your legs, on your side, your back, your stomach.
No position does what it should.
So you just stare at the ceiling now. Because if you can’t sleep, what else is there to do?
You can’t go to Sickbay. Not again. The first time was awkward enough.
You went to Sickbay after your first hour of sleeplessness. A nurse gave you a pat on the back and basically told you to suck it up.
In cases of nervousness because you have a meeting in the morning, they apparently don’t hand out hyposprays in bulk.
She told you to drink a calming tea.
And that you did. But all the tea did was make you get up again to go pee.
On the way back from the toilets, you yawn to yourself. You are shuddering with exhaustion and excitement — not the good kind though.
From the moment Vrena showed you the PADD that had you listed in her team, everything became a blur.
After that, you just went back to the arboretum and scanned some plants. Which ones? Who knows? It wasn’t like the scanning had any purpose.
Then you went to bed early. Because in your mind that meant more time for sleep and rest. But your mind thought differently. Instead, it meant more time to think about Commander Data.
About the way he grazed your shoulder.
The way he whispered in your ear.
And the way he casually selected you as the team’s botanist.
Yes, it had occurred to you, of course, to just ask him to remove you. But that would mean embarrassment of the highest order. And it’s not like you have a good reason for it. Not one you are ever going to tell him, anyway.
So now you proverbially lie in the bed you made yourself.
The one where a Tellarite is snoring again, so you press your hands over your ears and try to ignore it.
When a Tellarite snores, bunks rattle. At least yours does.
The next time you open your eyes, it’s morning. You don’t know that by looking through the window — space is always the same. But you know it’s morning because Kelly is shouting something at Vrena through the whole hallway.
“Damnit, Kelly,” someone mumbles, obviously having been woken by the loudest of the Enterprise’s ensigns.
“Come on, I’m better than an alarm clock!” she laughs.
“Yeah, but alarm clocks don’t talk back,” the other says.
“Shut up.” You hear her throw a pillow in the other’s direction.
As you slowly sit up in your bunk, you notice every bone and muscle in your body. Somehow you fell asleep at some point in the night — maybe out of sheer exhaustion. But it had not been good sleep, you now realize.
You feel like the transporter scrambled your signal. Everything feels wrong: too loud, too bright, too fast.
Until you remember the reason for your sleeplessness: the meeting.
Far too fast, you jump from your bed and grab everything you need for a quick sonic shower.
“Someone’s motivated!” Kelly yells as you sprint toward the showers.
You don’t have time for her. Or anyone, really.
You are in a tunnel — a tunnel of fear, frustration, and nerves. There is nothing else here but the voice of Commander Data: Would you supervise them?
Why do you never listen? Why is everything so hard to understand when he says it? Since when do you not pay attention?
It basically was your personality at the Academy: while others made friends in the back of the class, you sat up front, took notes, and listened. Yes, you hardly said anything, and your grades were good in some classes, in others not so much. But you always listened. Often your notes were more thorough than those of the teachers.
You are the person who notices details no one else would notice. Why didn’t you notice Commander Data basically asking you if you would join his team?
The questions repeat in your head as you turn the sonic shower to high, and as you stand in front of the replicator forgetting what kind of breakfast you want.
After breakfast you hurry to the arboretum. Don’t you need to inform anyone of this change? Seral and Keiko are depending on you, right?
As you power-walk through the door, you see Cory, Millie, and Hannah.
Your heart drops immediately. You almost forgot about your friends. So you take the water bottle and care for them.
“And then she showed me the PADD and apparently now I’m on this team. I can’t do this, guys. I really just want to stay here with you,” you explain as you bind Hannah’s stem carefully with a piece of yarn. You want to help her grow straighter.
“I know, I know,” you sigh. “It’s just too much. Maybe my mom was right.”
A science vessel. Now, wouldn’t that be nice.
Behind you, you hear someone entering the arboretum. While they were humming at first, they now stop in their tracks.
“What are you doing here?” Keiko gasps and walks over to you and the three plants. You still have your fingers tying the knot so Hannah is secured properly.
“You have a meeting!” she says with emphasis — but there is a drop of concern mixed into it all.
“Go, I’ll care for these three. I’m good with plants, you might have noticed.” She lays a hand on your back, practically shoving you away from your friends and toward the arboretum’s entrance.
Now that you stand outside your safe place again, your feet feel bolted to the ground. You look around nervously before finally walking toward the next turbolift that will bring you to the conference room clearly marked on your duty roster.
No mistake on Starfleet’s part. The mistake here was you not getting a hint that you were on his team.
On your way to the conference room, you analyze the situations and conversations you had with Commander Data.
And suddenly it all makes sense: he was testing you. He wanted to watch you deal with the problem, and that’s why he stayed in the room when the Betazoid flies sucked out the unneeded moisture from the soil.
He didn’t forget his shift — he was occupied with another important task: evaluating you.
A shiver runs down your spine. Not the good kind either.
What else has he already learned about you? Has he read your file? Of course he has. He is Data. He can read the Federation database in a matter of minutes.
So you gulp as you realize: he probably knows about all your little… quirks. Habits, failings, eccentric behaviors.
While spiraling into despair, you reach the conference room you now dread entering — with all the “knowledge” you have just spun together in your head like a spider’s web.
But it’s already too late.
“Ensign,” he greets you, nodding.
Data is already in the room, working on the wall screen, copying something from his PADD.
“Commander,” you croak and slowly step inside.
“I am glad that you are here. You are the first one,” he explains with a raised brow.
You narrow your eyes slightly. Did you get the time wrong? Or worse: is it another test?
“Please, take a seat,” he says, gesturing toward the table. In the middle there are some snacks.
You bite your lip. That was possible? Snacks in a meeting? Lieutenant Seral never replicates anything.
It is working time, not eating time, he might argue.
Data, of course, notices the way you eye the cookies. So he nods. “If you would like, you can take one.”
“Thank you,” you whisper but don’t take one. Instead, you sit down.
Somewhere in the back. Far away from Data.
You would really like to bang your head on the table now. How could you be so stupid and think, even for a minute, that Lieutenant Commander Data would miss his shift because he had fun looking at bugs with you? By just forming these thoughts, you realize how deluded you have been the last few days.
“Are you not well, Ensign?” he suddenly asks. His brow is furrowed — almost like someone who is concerned.
A test, you remind yourself. A stupid test.
You try to smile. “I am fine, Commander. Thank you for asking.”
You have learned that when people ask how you are, they don’t really want to know. And you definitely don’t want to tell Data that he is the reason for your current misery and panic.
He nods, but his brow stays furrowed.
“Why are you sitting back there?” comes his next question.
“I… I like this chair,” you lie.
“Oh. You can take the chair and come here, please. I need you in front,” he explains — casually. Then he actually moves one of the chairs next to his seat at the end of the table and gestures for you to bring your “favorite” chair over.
To the front, where everyone will be able to see your red face even more clearly.
You nod and attempt to maintain the smile you produced for your earlier lie.
Then you keep up the charade and move your chair to the front. Next to Data.
