Summary: Data asked you to let him plan the date for tonight, but you didn't expect him to show up at your quarters with a blindfold, only informing you that he has planned a "surprise". That surprise leads to the fulfillment of a childhood dream, making out, and learning more about the beautiful mechanical man you love.
Rated: T
Also posted on AO3
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"Are the samples from Tavros IX ready yet, Ensign Patel?" you ask, adjusting the settings on your tricorder.
"The initial computer analysis will be finished in three minutes, Lt. Y/N," Ensign Patel responds, and you nod in acknowledgement, continuing to specify the needed parameters on your tricorder.
As you do so, you can't help but smile in anticipation. Gosh, it's not like you're a brand-new acting ensign fresh out of the Academy and on your very first assignment, but it is exciting all the same. Being assigned aboard the Enterprise, the flagship of the Federation itself, is no small honor. This is everything you ever could have dreamed of when you were a young cadet with your head full of stars. You have access to the most sophisticated technology in the Federation, you'll be at the forefront of cutting-edge research and exploration across the galaxy, and you'll be serving alongside the best officers and scientists that Starfleet has to offer. All things considered, you concede that you probably have the right to feel a little giddy at the prospect of beginning your first real assignment since your two weeks aboard the Enterprise.
"The samples are ready, Lieutenant."
You carefully move the tray of fossilized remains of some insect-like creature that your exobiology team discovered on the rocky Class L planet, the presence of which indicates that once Tavros IX might have been Class M. Over the next two weeks, it will be the job of you and your team to catalog any indications of extinct life forms and use that information to extrapolate what you can about the planet's biological history. You start scanning the fossils with your tricorder, watching the screen intensely.
"Excuse me, Lt. Y/N?"
The soft male voice behind you startles you from your focus. You turn to see who has addressed you.
A man is standing roughly nine feet away, watching you intently with his head tilted just slightly to the side. You had not heard him enter the lab or approach, and he is definitely not a member of your team. You would certainly remember if he was. His appearance is very nearly human, except for his skin which is as pale as alabaster with a golden sheen and his pale yellow eyes. You can't quite put a finger on what it is, but there's something about the way he holds himself that is distinctly non-human.
For a moment, you panic. Every Starfleet cadet is required to take classes to learn about every Federation species and must pass exams on culture and etiquette, given the likelihood that you will serve alongside Vulcans, Bajorans, Bolians, Andorians, and many others during your career. But you have no recollection of learning about any beings like this man and you find yourself momentarily frozen as you mentally race through all your culture classes and exams in search of something you might have forgotten and hoping you don't make intergalactic news by starting a war over some breach of alien etiquette.
The stranger does not seem concerned; in fact, there is no change to his neutral expression as he steps forward. "You are in charge of the exobiology team?"
You nod.
He mirrors the gesture. "Excellent. I am Lieutenant Commander Data."
Commander Data. Your panic subsides as you recognize the name and simultaneously understand why you didn't recognize him as a member of a Federation race. You had heard about the android second officer of the Enterprise a few times before, though you only know a little about him from an overview in cybernetics in one of your Academy classes years ago.
You straighten your stance, making sure to appear professional. "Is there anything I can help you with, Sir?"
"As the head of science and operations, I will be overseeing the research of Tavros IX," Data answers. His voice is smooth and even, the vocal simulation not at all mechanical. "I wished to see how the analysis is progressing."
You step aside, allowing the commander to see the tray of fossils. "Initial scans indicate that the fossils are at least two hundred thousand years old. They appear to have been marine, Sir."
Commander Data leans forward to examine the specimens closer. "Ah, Masutra'ravot."
You can't help the expression of surprise that crosses your face. "Yes, Sir, we believe there may be a correlation between these specimens and other similar species on other planets, including the Vulcan masutra'ravot suborder. I didn't know you were interested in exobiology."
"I graduated from the Academy with honors in exobiology," the android responds matter-of-factly. "Although it has not been a focus in my career, exobiology remains a particular interest of mine. I find the concept of life, in all its diverse forms, intriguing. What common features are shared by living beings across the galaxy? What qualifications must be met in order for something to be considered alive? These are questions that I find great fascination in answering, or attempting to answer at the very least."
You feel a smile tugging at your lips. You hadn't expected him to be so…conversational. There's something about his manner that makes you feel at ease, despite him being a senior officer. "I've always loved animals myself, and the thought of discovering and studying species from all over the galaxy always sounded to me like the best job in the world. Though I admit, my focus at the Academy, and my true passion, is small mammalian life forms, not alien shrimp."
Data nods seriously before catching you off-guard with the question, "I see, what is your opinion of cats?"
"Cats?" You raise your eyebrows. "My family had two cats when I was growing up, but I haven't been around them much since then. But I do remember enjoying them." You pause and smile to yourself. "I was ten when my parents took me to the exobiology exhibit at the Museum of Interplanetary Life in San Francisco and I saw a hologram of a pirin from Tavarius II. It was love at first sight. I told my parents I wanted to be an exobiologist when I grew up and now here I am." You sigh. "I haven't made it to Tavarius II yet, but I still hope to one day."
Commander Data adjusts one of the settings on his tricorder and aims the device at the fossil tray, watching the information as it displays on his screen. "I have not been to Tavarius II myself either. I am however a cat parent. Perhaps sometime you would like to meet her. Although Spot can be highly meticulous about which humans she allows in her company, I believe she would find you acceptable."
You glance over at the android, who is now standing less than two feet away, and you can't help watching as his long, elegant fingers tap a new code into his tricorder with the sort of grace you might expect from a pianist. And once you notice his hands, you begin to observe just how nice many of his other features are: his smooth, dark hair, the regal profile of his sloping forehead and large nose, the slight part of his rose gold lips, his broad shoulders, his trim waist and hips…
You blush and quickly look away, focusing on your own tricorder. The last thing you need to be doing is checking out the third highest officer on the ship, even if he is surprisingly handsome.
Apparently satisfied, Commander Data snaps his tricorder shut and turns to face you. "It appears you have everything in order. I will continue to check in on your progress."
He gives you a polite nod and heads for the door. You covertly watch as he leaves, noticing how nicely his gold and black uniform hugs his figure.
You shake those thoughts away. All right, so the android second officer is more attractive than you were expecting, but you're not a daydreaming teenager. You're a professional. It isn't that there is a rule prohibiting romance between lower and higher ranking officers, but still it wouldn't do to let yourself stray too far down that path. He's an android after all. It's not like you would ever have a chance with him…
THREE YEARS LATER
"Where are we going?" you ask, trying to keep the nervous giggle out of your voice. You scrunch up your nose as the silky black fabric tied gently but firmly around your eyes tickles at the bridge of your nose.
"I have already informed you, it is a surprise," comes the familiar calm voice from directly behind you. His hand rests at the small of your back, guiding you down the Enterprise hallways. "I have noticed that withholding key elements of an upcoming experience can heighten the anticipation, and therefore the subsequent release and pleasure, upon the reveal."
He pauses momentarily. "Unless, of course, not knowing our destination is causing you genuine distress or anxiety, in which case I can reveal the intended surprise now."
You reach behind you and pat his leg, the only part of him you can easily reach at the moment. "No, Data, I'm fine."
"Then you are not in distress?"
You smile at the tender concern in his voice. "No, I'm not in distress. I just get jittery when I'm excited."
He makes a soft noise of acknowledgement. "Hm." Seconds later, you feel his lips against your ear, his chest pressing against your back. His voice is silky and almost teasing once again. "In that case, Darling, you will have to wait until we arrive at our destination to discover my intentions towards you for our evening."
Oh, but you like the sound of that. A shiver races down your spine that is not entirely due to the cool hallway. Only a few minutes ago, Data had arrived at your quarters at the pre-arranged time, after both your work shifts were finished. When you two set up the date the previous night, Data had requested to arrange the particulars, but you didn't expect him to pull out a silk blindfold and request polite permission to use it on you, only vaguely informing you that he had prepared a "surprise" when you questioned him.
Data's other hand presses against your shoulder, guiding you around what you assume is a corner, then he draws to a stop. A moment later, you hear the hiss of a door opening and recognize the soft whirr of a turbolift. The two of you step inside. Data begins to tell the computer his desired location, but then he pauses and presses both his hands carefully over your ears, just enough that you can't hear what he says. Then there's that slight drop in your stomach that indicates you are now moving downwards.
After thirty seconds or so, the turbolift stops, the door opens, and Data conducts you out and into another hallway. With the blindfold in place, all your other senses are heightened and you put them to use trying to figure out what part of the ship you're on and where you might be heading. The vibrating hum of the ship is all around you. The air smells clean and crisp, like most of the Enterprise's hallways, offering you no clues. Data's hands are soft against you, one still on your lower back, the other on your shoulder, his long fingers resting under your hair against your nape. You are profoundly aware of every slight movement of him against your skin, along with the soft pad of his feet on the carpet behind you.
You don't go far before he stops again. He lifts his hand from your shoulder and you hear the rapid tap of his fingers against buttons, and then a door to your left opens with a slight rumble. You have a general guess as to where your android has brought you, but you have no clue as to what might await you beyond those doors. Your chest clinches with nervous anticipation. And then Data is applying pressure to your back, silently encouraging you, and you step forward and through the doors.
And then your feet are on grass.
Immediately, you are aware of brighter light shining through the silk over your eyes, though you still can't make out any details. A fragrant smell surrounds you, and you can suddenly feel a light breeze on your skin. Your fingers itch to undo the blindfold, but you push down your combined eagerness and curiosity, awaiting Data's instructions.
The android steps from behind you – the pressure of his hands against your back ceases abruptly and you hear the crunch of his feet to your right as he circles you, and then his fingers curl softly around yours tugging you several more steps forward. Ever meticulous, he adjusts your position just slightly. Then his fingers glide ever so gently through your loose hair, brushing against your cheek. "Are you ready for the surprise I have prepared?" he asks.
You don't bother keeping the eager tremor from your voice. "Yes."
The next moment, Data's fingers are deftly undoing your blindfold, then the cloth slips away completely.
For several seconds, the sudden light is blinding and you see nothing beyond the white-yellow glow. But as your eyes adjust, your heart catches in your throat.
You are standing at the top of a great hillside that slopes down into a deep valley. The intense light of the yellow dwarf star high in the sky above you glimmers and glints on the water of a beautiful, blue lake that fills the center of the valley. Beyond it, you can see more hillsides disappearing into the far horizon, many dotted with forest groves. To your left, the foot hills give way to an impressive mountain range that stretches off into the distance. And beyond the mountain peaks, a huge planet with pink and orange swirls dominates the sky, so close you feel like you could reach out and touch it.
You've visited the holodeck plenty of times before, but still you can't quite bring yourself to believe that everything around you is an elaborate virtual reality and that you are not actually standing on the hillside of a strange planet. You can feel the breeze on your cheeks, the sunlight on your face, the soft ground underneath your feet. All your senses are telling you that you are on the planet's surface rather than still aboard the Enterprise.
A loud, musical keening interrupts your amazement and you look up to see a flock of large red and blue birds with four wings each soaring past overhead. They circle the valley gracefully and, still filling the air with their haunting cries, swoop down to land in the lake.
You turn to Data, who has stepped off to the side and is watching you with his head cocked and an intent, curious expression on his face. You're not sure if the glowing warmth in your face is from the sunlight or your awe. "You designed this program, Data?"
"Not entirely," he replies, truthful as ever. "Much of the information I uploaded directly from the ship's computer, though I chose this specific location and designed some other particulars of the pre-existing program."
You turn to look back out over the valley, watching the birds gliding through the water. "This is a real place then?"
"That is correct," Data responds. You expect him to elaborate, but he doesn't. Instead, he links his hands behind his back, still watching you with keen interest. You get the distinct feeling that he's searching for a specific reaction from you, but you're not sure what. You smile shyly at him. "It's a beautiful program, Data."
"I am glad that you find it visually pleasing," he answers and some subtle expression flashes across his face. If you didn't know better, you might almost have called the expression mild amusement. But then again, the more you get to know Data, the more human you are finding that he truly is.
Feeling suddenly bashful and still unsure what Data is expecting of you but sensing that he's waiting for something, you rotate in a slow circle to examine your more immediate surroundings. The ground is covered in vegetation resembling grass, except it is pale blue. It is interspersed with a moss-like growth that looks velvet-soft and is a yellow so pretty it almost rivals the beauty of your boyfriend's eyes. Dotted across the hilltop and slope are small, daisy-like flowers, pale pink with many petals, which you guess are the source of the fragrant, floral scent all around you. It truly is beautiful, in a completely otherworldly way.
You turn back to Data, intending to see if you can pry any more information out of him, when you hear a high-pitched chirrup from behind you. You whirl around.
You instantly recognize the small creature emerging from the bushes. Its reddish-brown haunches are similar to a rabbit, with long, powerful back legs, but its tail looks like that of a miniature lion, ending in a twitching tuft. It has delicate clawed forepaws, a pointy muzzle and foxy ears, and large, dark, intelligent eyes. Folded elegantly along the creature's back are the furriest, most beautiful set of slender wings.
Your mind flashes back to your tenth birthday and the Museum of Interplanetary Life and the exhibit that set you on the career path that brought you to the stars.
The sound you make is a squeal of pure delight.
You drop cautiously to your knees as the pirin approaches in small bounds and reach out a trembling hand. The pirin jerks away, its wings flaring briefly and large ears pivoting forward, but as you hold still, it creeps forward again, making a soft chirring sound. Its wings are half-spread, prepared to leap back or take to the air in a moment, but there is curiosity in its quiet snuffles and in the twitching of its pointed snout. It makes another half-skip forward and its nose bumps against your hand.
You can barely suppress your shudder of delight as the pirin nuzzles your hand, sniffing and examining you. Curiosity evidently sated for the moment, it backs away and circles you, still making quiet chirring sounds. Once it completes its circuit, it leisurely bound-skips a few feet away, then rises onto its haunches, wings half-flared. It makes the same chirrup that you first heard then bounds away down the hill slope.
There is a rustle behind you and a chorus of chirrups, and five more pirin emerge from the taller grass. One spreads its wings and glides, while the others bound after the first one. One of them passes by you so close you could reach out and touch it if you wanted. You remain perfectly still however, watching in fascination as the small group of pirin make their way down the slope towards the lake. Only as they disappear from sight do you raise a hand to your mouth, pressing the backs of your fingers to the huge smile breaking across your face.
You turn to find Data watching you with pleased eyes and the littlest upward twist at the corners of his lips, and you know he was hoping for the reaction you just gave him.
"This…this is Tavarius II!" you exclaim.
"It is a precise holographic rendering of Tavarius II created from detailed scans of the planet saved on the ship's computer," Data says. "Although it is merely a hologram, I hoped that it would bring you at least part of the happiness that you would experience from the opportunity to visit in person." He turns his head, looking at you questioningly from the corner of his eyes. "Given your reactions, I theorize that you have enjoyed the surprise I prepared. Is this correct?"
To answer him, you fling your arms around his neck, pressing your cheek into his shoulder. "Oh Data, this is the most perfect date I could ever imagine. Thank you so much."
He puts an arm around your waist. "You are welcome, Y/N." He pauses, his hand resting against the small of your back. "Perhaps one day, I will have the opportunity to visit the real Tavarius II in your company."
You squeeze his shoulders. "I hope so very much. I can't think of anyone I'd rather go with." You're still embracing him, but you turn your head so that your cheek is flat against his chest and you are gazing down the slope at the beautiful view. "I guess there are benefits to having a boyfriend with a perfect memory who remembers every single hope and dream you've ever mentioned in his presence."
Data pulls away from you a little but keeps one arm around your middle. "I also recall that on several occasions you mentioned enjoying the human custom of a simple outdoor meal arranged on top of a patterned cloth." He steps aside, revealing a brown wicker basket.
You bite back a delighted laugh. "A picnic!"
The two of you set about turning the hilltop into a picnic scene. Data lays down the checkered cloth, while you pull out the food. It's classic picnic fare (of course it is – Data no doubt researched every aspect of this human custom in preparation). There's all the trappings for sandwiches, along with cheese, fresh strawberries and grapes, and a container of ice cold lemonade.
Once you've pulled out all the food, you both settle comfortably on the picnic cloth to assemble your sandwiches. You can't remember the last time you had a picnic like this, and it feels so incredibly homey that it's hard to believe you're on a holographic planet's surface aboard a starship, which itself is hundreds of thousands of light years from Earth, with your android boyfriend.
You load up your sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, Swiss cheese, and turkey. Data methodically spreads peanut butter on one slice of bread and grape jelly on another, then carefully smooshes them together to form the most picturesque PB&J you've ever seen. You can't help the fond smile that tugs your lips. He looks up to find you watching him and you decide to tease him affectionately. "Ugh, peanut butter and jelly? And I thought you had good taste."
A soft expression of confusion crosses his face. "But my understanding was that peanut butter and jelly is a popular and beloved human choice for a picnic sandwich."
You giggle and pat his knee. "It is. I'm just teasing."
Data frowns. "But is teasing not a malicious activity?"
Your heart tugs at you – you suddenly suspect that Data has been subjected to that less friendly form of teasing more than once – and you scoot over next to him so that your knee is resting against his and your shoulder bumps against his shoulder. "It can be malicious. But when it's done lightheartedly between two people who know each other well, particularly between two people who are romantically involved, it's meant to be playful. It's a form of flirting." You rub your hand back and forth over his knee. "And Data, I promise I would never tease you the other way."
"Hm." Data tilts his head and looks at his sandwich pensively. "I clearly have a great deal to still learn about the subtexts of romantic communication."
You twine the fingers of your free hand with his. "Everyone had things to learn. It's part of being human."
He looks at you, and there is tender gratitude deep in those golden eyes. "Although I may never reach my ultimate goal of becoming fully human, the times when I am with you are one of the instances where I believe I come the closest to experiencing what being human must be like."
Your throat clogs a little with emotion and you squeeze his hand tightly. "You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you say that, Data."
The two of you dig into your picnic meal, enjoying your sandwiches side-by-side as you look out over the stunning view of Tavarius II. When you've finished your sandwich and have stuffed yourself about as full as you can get, Data surprises you further with a previously concealed container filled with warm chocolate chip cookies that get your mouth watering all over again. And when Data reveals that the cookies aren't replicated – that he baked them himself after spending yesterday night researching what components make the best chocolate chip cookie ("There does not seem to be a consensus concerning this question," he says) – you decide you have a little extra room in your stomach after all.
The cookies are warm and soft, but not crumbly, with gooey milk chocolate chips, and both of you have several. You take a last sip of lemonade to finish off your glass then lean back on the palms of your hands with a contented sigh. You feel entirely warm, and your mind is filled with that fuzzy happiness of a good and satisfying meal. Contentment wraps around you like a blanket.
You twist your body towards Data and watch him fondly. He's carefully packing the leftover food into the wicker basket, and you can almost see him doing the lightning speed geometric calculations to determine how to put all the individual containers in for a perfect fit. You watch the way the black stripe at the top of his uniform ripples as his broad shoulders move underneath and the way the yellow fabric stretches tight across his back. For not the first time (and by no means the last time), you find yourself admiring the beautiful masculine shape of him. As your eyes skim up and down the alluring lines and curves of him, you feel familiar heat creeping into your chest and cheeks. You are drawn to him as inevitably as a planet's pull on its moon.
As he finishes packing everything away and turns back to you, you're waiting for him. His head bobs back in slight surprise as you all but plop yourself into his lap, but he obligingly still lifts his hands to your hips to steady you all the same. You drape your arms languidly around his shoulders, your legs spread around his waist and stretched comfortably on the grass behind him. Your bodies are pressed intimately close. Your other hand strokes slowly up his side and back down.
You play with the fringe of his silky dark hair just above the back of his uniform collar. "Hey there," you say, desire giving your voice a husky tone.
"Hello," he responds politely, his eyebrow rising just slightly. You can tell he's puzzled but content to go along with you.
As he turns his head to face you fully, you stifle a laugh. There's a noticeable smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth, standing out dramatically against his pale skin. It's such a human detail that it makes your heart skip.
It's terribly cliché, but you figure that when the universe offers you that big of an invitation, it would be a crime to waste it. "You've got some chocolate on your face," you say without keeping your amusement from your tone.
His eyes widen and he starts lifting a hand, but you push his arm back down. "Let me get it for you," you purr, and without letting him respond, you take your opportunity.
You lean forward, wrapping your arm more tightly around his shoulder, and press your lips to the corner of his mouth. His bioplast skin is soft and warm. Your chest is pressed flat against his and with a sense of wonder, you realize you can feel his heartbeat. You know in reality it's the rhythm of his central servo pump, but Dr. Soong clearly designed it to mimic the beat of a human heart. And really, how much different is his heart from yours, except that his is made of duranium?
You gently lick the corner of his mouth and taste chocolate combined with the unique, subtle flavor of his skin. There's a hint of a metallic quality to it, but also a slight suggestion of salt more like organic skin, not unpleasant. This close to him, you can hear and feel the whisper of his light breathing against your cheek. You let your tongue slowly map the tiny dimple at the corner of his lips.
Data remains perfectly still and quiet, his hands still cradling your hips. At the beginning of your relationship, such moments as this were stiff and awkward, his movements and stance explicitly mechanical, but you've noticed him becoming increasingly relaxed towards both giving and receiving physical affection. There's something wonderful about knowing that your gentle synthetic boyfriend is comfortable in your presence.
You pull slowly away from him in time to see his eyes flutter back open. His lashes are white, as if dusted with snow, and you are struck with how beautiful and detailed his smallest features are. His expression is one of tender trust and a wonder that is almost child-like. When he speaks, his voice is softer than pirin fur.
"Your breathing and heartbeat have increased by five percent," he murmurs, "and your pupils have dilated 1.4 millimeters. You are experiencing arousal."
That you are. You can already feel the heavier thumping in your chest and the throbbing of your pulse. Your skin feels hot and sensitive, and you are exquisitely aware of every place your bodies are touching. You draw your hand slowly down his neck and cup his jaw, savoring every inch of him. "I love you so much," you breathe.
His head twitches just slightly, that signature sharp, mechanical movement that you've come to adore so deeply. His eyes are intense and focused fully on you, and you know he understands the weight of your words. But there's a melancholy in his eyes too, and you can tell he longs to say the words back to you but can't let himself believe yet that they would be true. You know it's a struggle he will ultimately have to resolve for himself, but you can help him along a little bit.
"Data, this is one of the most special days I've ever had," you whisper to him. "It means so much to me that you'd take all the time to create this program for me, to bake those cookies yourself, to bring me here. I'm so lucky to have someone who cares so much about me, who loves me the way you do."
This time, his sharp head tilt is less than subtle, almost startled. The way he looks at you makes your heart feel like bursting.
"You believe that I love you?" he asks, and you almost want to shake him until he can hear the hope in his own voice.
"I know you do," you answer firmly.
His lips part, his eyes conflicted. "But I am-"
"Yes, I know," you say. "But you're also a person." You stroke your fingers along his jaw. "How is it that you can perform however many trillion operations per second, but you can't get it through your positronic brain that everything you've done for me and the way you treat me is love?"
His eyes narrow. "You are teasing again?"
You trace the curve of his ear with your forefinger. "Yes. But also no."
His eyes slide off to the side and a frown of concentration curves across his beautiful lips as he makes an adorable attempt to analyze your puzzling answer. You mentally debate explaining it to him but ultimately decide it will be good for him to think about for himself.
You press the palm of your left hand against his side, fingers curling against his ribs, holding him close. Your lips and fingers are tingling for him and it's becoming increasingly difficult to think straight through the fog of want. "I love you, Data, and right now, I also very, very, very much want to make out with you."
He looks back at you, and you're not entirely sure but for a second there seems to be a gleam in his eyes as well. "I find that acceptable," he answers with that impenetrable android gravity that you suspect hides a human playfulness that he's only let you see hints of here and there.
He reaches for you to pull you forward into a kiss, but once again you stop him. "Data," you say in response to his confused look at your seeming rejection, "if it's all right with you, I'd like to lead this time."
He takes a moment to process your statement, then his eyebrows rise. "I believe I would like that as well," he answers, resettling his hand on your hip. He looks up at you, an expectant, innocent curiosity shining from his alabaster face. His lips still gently parted, he waits for you to make your move.
Your hands still rest against him, one at his waist, the other against his cheek. You scoot yourself forward a fraction, closing any space that was still managing to squeeze itself between you both. You can feel the outline of his musculature through the fabric of his shirt pressed tight against your chest and stomach, and a shiver runs through you that you know he felt entirely.
You take a moment just to look at him, to admire him, then you gently run your finger along his hairline and trace the shape of his pointed sideburn, then cup his entire cheek in your palm. Data's eyes drift closed and he presses his face to your hand like a friendly cat, encouraging your touch. For a while, you struggled with the reality that Data doesn't feel physical pleasure, fearing that meant you were taking advantage of him or that moments of physical contact such as this were skewed heavily in the favor of your enjoyment, despite Data's reassurances to the contrary on more than one occasion. But it's little moments like this – seeing Data appreciate and want your touches – that let it sink in that your android enjoys this as much as you do.
You draw his face to yours and press your lips firmly to his. He's far stronger than you, but he allows you to bend his neck forward with no resistance. You caress his lips, your hand still cupping his cheek, your other hand resuming its rhythmic stroking up and down his side and along his back. His eyes flutter slightly and you feel his lashes dance against your cheekbones, and then he's kissing you back, perfectly matching your own pressure and speed, letting you set the pace.
Sliding your left arm fully around his waist, you hold him closer and kiss him harder. Your right hand slips into his hair, your fingers twining through thick handfuls of dark synthetic locks. You smile against his lips as you remember your last date: his panel opening beneath your fingers and the blinking glow of lights shining from his head. For a moment, you consider pressing down, feeling more than hearing the clicking release of the secret latch hidden beneath his hair, but you decide against it. You may be utterly entranced by Data the Android, but you find yourself craving Data the Man today.
You part your lips hungrily and allow your tongue the pleasure of exploring the bow-shaped curve of his mouth. He's so soft against your tongue, and the gentle movement of his responding kiss lights growing warmth in your belly. You can feel the deep blush in your cheeks. Your fingers tingle where they touch him, as if an electrical current is surging through them.
Responding to a growing urgency welling up inside you, you clutch him harder and deepen your kiss, teasing his lips opening and slipping your tongue over the slope of his bottom lip into the wet warmth of his mouth. His hands tighten on your hips, squeezing hard enough to send jolts of pleasure through your lower body but not hard enough to cause any discomfort.
As your tongues twine inside his mouth, you toy with the bottom hem of his uniform jacket then slip your hand underneath. The fabric bunches up over your wrist as you glide your fingers over the bare skin of his lower back and along the back waistline of his pants. Once again, as when you first touched him, you are struck by the silky smoothness of his skin. You push your hand up a little further and the fabric follows, hiking up his back the further up you go. With a sense of wonder, you realize that you can feel each individual vertebra under his bioplast. Curious as much as aroused, you push your hand up further still until suddenly the jacket fabric catches and refuses to let your hand move upwards any more. With your mind as foggy with desire and pleasure as it currently is, it takes you a moment to realize the resistance is due to the fact that the front of his jacket is caught between your body and his.
That realization brings on another one: that you still haven't seen your boyfriend in anything other than his full uniform. And at that moment, you are consumed with the burning question: how would Data feel about having a bit less on?
You aren't entirely sure how that works for him. Does he have a sense of modesty? Is the fact that he seems to only ever wear his uniform, even on dates, due more to his dedication to his role as a Starfleet officer than a discomfort at the thought of wearing anything else around you?
You mull it over briefly, pausing only to close your eyes and moan as Data's lips and tongue make liquid pleasure blossom inside you, before coming to a decision. Data has asked you in the past to inform him if there is something you find yourself desiring, and you have a feeling that Data would be sad in his own android way if he knew you were holding something back from him for fear of hurting his feelings. You know he'll tell you if it's something that makes him uncomfortable. You decide to trust him and go for it.
Pulling your lips from his with slow sensualness, you let your eyes drift back open, flooding your vision with the extraordinary sight of Data's golden blush. His eyes are hooded, his lips still attractively parted, and his hair behind his ear has reverted to its naturally curly state due to the amorous attention of your fingers. He's so handsome and so alluring in that moment that any hesitancy you were feeling flies straight out the proverbial window.
"Data?" you murmur.
His eyes flash immediately up to yours and his head tilts in a silent question.
You swallow, stroking your fingertips slowly down the line of his throat. "Data, do you have a sense of modesty?"
"I do," he answers. "My parents created a specific subroutine for that purpose."
"Then being undressed makes you uncomfortable?"
His eyes flick to the side for a split second, processing your question, then immediately return to your face. "My modesty subroutine provides a sense of discomfort in any situation where a human would experience the same sensations."
"So…if you were with someone you felt comfortable with or with a lover…?"
"…The program would partially disengage. I would still be aware of its influence to my other subroutines, but the sensations it would provide would be largely positive rather than negative."
You lower your eyes and smile to yourself. He dresses such explanations of his inner workings up with technical terminology, but underneath it all, how different are his experiences from that of a human, really?
But his explanation has provided you with the two critical pieces of information that you needed to know before you proceeded. One, that Data understands the weight and implications of being undressed in another's presence, and two, that in certain situations he is capable of enjoying the intimacy of such a state. You hope deeply that you are someone with whom "the sensations it would produce would be largely positive."
When you look back up, Data is watching you with that keen, discerning expression that seems to see straight into your mind. Although he might regularly struggle with the intricacies of social interaction, you've always been able to see just how intelligent, observant, and surprisingly – sometimes unnervingly – perceptive he can be in certain situations. When he sees that he has your attention, he speaks gently. "My interpretation of your questions and actions suggests a specific intention, rather than mere curiosity, regarding my modesty subroutine. Within the current context, I presume your ultimate intention is to inquire about exploring our relationship further within the parameters of disrobement."
It takes you a moment to unravel his statement, but when you do, you find yourself blushing and chuckling at both his manner of speaking and his discernment. "Can't pull the wool over your eyes, can I, Data?" you laugh.
Data looks confused. "My jacket is composed primarily of cotton, but I am not adverse to having it pulled-"
You press your fingers to his lips. "It's an expression. It means that I can't fool you or hide anything from you."
"Ah." His lips twist into an almost melancholy frown. "But I would not wish to be someone with whom you felt it necessary to 'dislocate the bovidean fiber over my ocular apertures.'"
You find his hand and squeeze it. "You're not, sweetheart. I meant it to comment on how perceptive you are, how well you know and understand me. I trust you entirely."
He nods, but the melancholy remains. "I am sorry," he says softly. "Even after all this time, many human expressions and the subtexts of their meanings continue to confuse me."
"Don't apologize," you say firmly, still squeezing his hand. You think for a moment, then offer, "If you like, I can be more careful with how I talk, make sure I'm being more literal-"
This time, it is he who stops you with a raised finger. "No, I do not wish for you to change your speech patterns for me." He presses his lips more tightly together, a flash of determination passing through his golden eyes. "You have never grown irritated with me in response to my frequent misunderstandings. If you are not troubled by offering explanations in such cases, I would prefer to continue on as we have done. I believe it is a further opportunity for me to acquaint myself with human phraseology and interaction, and perhaps to come one step closer to humanity myself."
A new kind of warmth curls up softly like a kitten in your chest. "I would be honored."
He nods again, head lowered, then he looks back up at you from under his lashes, and you swear there's a gleam of something downright mischievous in his gaze. "I believe, Darling," he says, "that we were discussing the exploration of new parameters for our romantic affiliation."
You had almost forgotten the original topic, but everything comes instantly rushing back with the force of a quantum filament. Your desire to see Data less dressed flares back to full intensity. Your face instantly flushes furnace hot. "Ah yes, I guess we were, weren't we?"
"Is there something in particular that you have in mind?" Data inquiries. "I am willing to explore whatever aspect of disrobement that you would find pleasing at the moment."
"Well, I-" Good grief, he already has you flustered and he's still fully dressed. This is not a good sign for the state you'll be in once that uniform starts coming off. "I- I was thinking I'd love…I'd love to see you…without…without your shirt."
Data nods, watching you closely. "You would find this pleasing?"
Your cheeks are so hot you're surprised they haven't burst into flame yet and you can feel your pulse reverberating throughout your entire body with excitement. In your current state, all you manage to get out is a rather choked, "Yes. Very."
Data makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, then nods to you and squeezes your hip, his eyes gentle and trusting. "Very well. You may proceed when you desire to."
You start by readjusting yourself, sliding backwards out of Data's lap and disentangling yourself from him. Data moves gracefully from his sitting position to a kneeling one and tilts his head back to watch you expectantly. He looks so pretty with his hands resting gently on his knees and his head tipped back so that the sunlight falls across his pale face and makes his sleek hair shimmer that you are reminded of a blossoming flower in its full glory. You kneel in front of him, facing your handsome boyfriend.
Scooting close enough that your knees bump against his, you reach around his neck and find the zipper at his nape. Slowly, savoring each precious inch, you drag the zipper downward, feeling the cloth peeling to the side as you go. You reach the bottom and carefully disengage the zipper from its track entirely. The back of Data's jacket falls completely open, the garment still clinging to his front by his broad shoulders. You take hold of both loose sides of the jacket and gently pull.
Data makes no resistance to you, and the fabric of his uniform top slides easily off. You set the discarded clothing on the grass beside you, keeping your entranced eyes fixed on the irresistible sight that is now before you.
The sheer beauty of Data's body leaves you gasping.
You've never even seen Data with exposed arms before, and now he kneels on the blanket before you in only the form-fitting black uniform pants that hug the graceful curve of his hips. His arms, shoulders, chest, and stomach are laid bare to your ardent gaze. You swallow, your whole face blazing. You had known he would be beautiful. His elegant, well-built figure is evident even covered by his uniform, and from what you know of Dr. Noonian Soong, you had guessed he would have made his android a work of pure art. But imagined fantasies are nothing compared to the proof of your guesses that you are now able to examine with your own two eyes.
His shoulders are broad, his arms and entire torso sleekly muscled like a swimmer, his chest shapely and beautifully wide, the muscles of his narrow waist softly defined. His skin is the same gorgeous alabaster-dusted-with-gold as his face and hands, save for his teasingly pert nipples which are a darker rose gold, similar in color to his lips. His head remains tilted faintly back and up as he gazes at you, his lips slightly parted, his breathing barely evident. The sunlight in his curious eyes makes the pale, golden irises shimmer.
You meet those eyes with some difficulty, managing to tear your gaze away from the rest of him, your heart pounding so hard you can hear it throbbing in your ears. "Oh heavens, Data, you're so hot."
Data frowns and cocks his head. "My thermal regulatory system is not malfunctioning. I believe you are mistaken." You open your mouth, but he must see something in your eyes, for understanding dawns softly across his face and he bobs his head towards you. "You were not referring to my physical temperature. In this situation, you were using the term 'hot' in its colloquial sense to indicate that you find me sexually attractive. Is this correct?"
You curl your fingers, barely resisting the all-consuming urge to reach for him. "That's correct."
"Hm." His eyebrows rise. "To my knowledge, no one has ever found me to be 'hot' before."
You bite your lip to keep back a smile. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Data."
You skim your eyes down his figure again, mesmerized. If you could soak him in entirely through your eyes, you would. It's not that you've never seen an attractive, shirtless man before, but at this moment, Data transcends anything within the mortal realm and becomes positively angelic. You instinctively know that you could spend the rest of your life exploring new worlds and never find anything to match the beauty of your android.
Your eyes slide down further to his firm stomach and you choke on a little laugh. There, just above the rim of Data's pants, is the indent of the world's most perfect navel. It's such a small, utterly pointless yet thoroughly human detail for an android to have that you can't keep back your laughter. You press your fingers over your mouth, giggling helplessly. Data has a belly button!
He watches you dissolve in giggles before him, his lips pursed in a cute expression of puzzlement, though he doesn't seem disturbed by your reaction, merely confused. With some difficulty, you get control of yourself again, though you still feel giddy from the intense feelings sweeping through you. As you lift your head back up, Data follows you with his own head, attempting to catch your eye. When he does so, his head bobs forward. "Laughter can be a signifier of many things amongst humans. What does yours signify?"
You shove down another fit of giggles as you answer him. "You're just so perfect, Data, I can't believe it. I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."
Data frowns thoughtfully. "Perhaps you did nothing. I like to believe that good things happen every day throughout the universe for no reason other than that they are good. Perhaps our relationship is one such example."
You can feel your adoration for him shining out of every pore and glowing in your eyes. "That's a nice way to look at it."
He nods solemnly, then gives you a pointed look. "You are aware that you are not limited to a visual examination, are you not?"
You smirk a little at that. "Are you saying you want me to touch you, Data?"
His expression is sweetly innocent. "I find that your touch is an intriguing stimuli to my neural net. Moreover, I find gratification in observing the clear pleasure you experience whenever there is physical contact between us. Given the level of your pleasure that I have observed from you in the last seventy-five seconds since you removed my jacket, I hypothesize that touching me in this state would bring you an unprecedented amount of physical and emotional enjoyment. I would like for you to touch me, both to observe your pleasure and to experience your tactile sensory input myself."
You reflect for a second that this is the first time you can recall Data ever asking you to touch him. You find that you very much like the implications of Data asking for your touch and that it relieves some of your lingering doubts about taking advantage of him.
You take a deep breath. "All right."
You hesitate still however, though you are not sure why, as if he will shatter under your fingers, even though you are burning to touch him. As you work up your confidence, Data adds suddenly, "Unless of course, you are too overwhelmed by my 'hot' appearance."
There's something in his voice that makes you look up sharply. "What?"
"Teasing," Data says. "I was teasing. Did I do it correctly."
You laugh, and suddenly the ice seems to be broken. "Yes, you did it correctly," you giggle and then you reach for him with a trembling hand.
Shifting closer, you place your hand against the front of his shoulder, then softly, tenderly, you press, nonverbally asking him to lean back. He understands and complies, allowing you to press him back and down, until his legs are stretched out in front of him and he is propped up only on his elbows. When you have him in position, you take another second just to soak in this beautiful moment. You can't preserve this memory perfectly the way Data will be able to, but you want to remember as many details as possible. Data watches you, looking sweetly vulnerable yet comfortable in his supine position.
Reverently, you stroke your fingertips across his chest, feeling the sculpted muscles underneath his soft bioplast. His human-like musculature is entirely for show – his movements are powered by internal hydraulics after all – but you're grateful that Dr. Soong took the time to sculpt Data's body to appear as human as possible. You trace along his collarbone, then down his sternum, marveling at the exquisite detail. Your fingers tingle wonderfully. Your breath catches with awe in your throat and chest.
Shyly, you explore outward, letting your fingers stray over one of his broad pectoral muscles. The synthetic muscle is firm but soft, and you can't help but imagine what an exquisite pillow his chest would make. This close, you can see the subtle rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes. You don't know if you will ever fully move beyond your wonder at the amazingness of this living, breathing machine who is also so fully man.
Gaining confidence, you stroke your palm over his chest and skim your thumb over one of his firm nipples.
To your surprise, he reacts to your touch; his head tilts back slightly, baring his pale throat, and he makes the softest, sweetest little sound, something between a gasp and a sigh. You pause, your fingers still resting against his chest, and look into his eyes, which are closed to slits that gives him a surprisingly sensual expression. While Data has never shown any discomfort with your touches, neither has he ever reacted so viscerally to you before. To be honest, you hadn't thought that he could react like that. He's told you numerous times that he's not programmed to process physical pleasure, but you're not sure what else to call the sensual, pleased expression currently dominating his face.
Yet, whatever it is, the sight of him like this has you practically melting into a puddle of desire.
Biting your lip and trying to keep your hands from trembling too much, you repeat the movement, running several of your fingers deliberately over his nipple. This time, his breath visibly hitches and his adam's apple bobs deliciously as he swallows. There's no doubt about it this time; whatever sensations he might be experiencing and however they might compare to a human's feelings, Data apparently has erogenous zones.
That knowledge is like a photon torpedo exploding in your stomach.
Leaving his chest for the time being, trying to regulate your eagerness, you glide your hand downward over his smooth belly, following the soft lines of his abdominal muscles. Your other hand remains planted at your side, supporting you as you lean over him. Your hip brushes lightly against his. You follow the gentle curve of his belly and, with a little smile, you swirl your finger around the rim of his navel. He shifts under you and his breath wavers as you dip your fingertip into the indent of his belly button, then let your hand trail down until it is stopped by the waistline of his pants. Nonchalantly, you switch directions and run your fingers all the way back up his torso until you complete your circuit back at his sternum.
You check in on him with a glance to his face. His eyes are still partially closed, his lips still slightly parted, his head tilted back so that his pale throat is exposed and his hair falls back. You rub his shoulder, and his eyes flicker open, darting to meet yours. "How are you doing?" you ask.
His throat bobs again. "It is…an intriguing experience so far," he answers. "Please continue." He pauses, then shoots you a surreptitious glance from under his eyelashes. "That is, if it remains pleasing for you to do so."
You answer by placing your hand flat on his chest and scraping gently with your fingernails. He relaxes again, letting his eyes sink back half-closed to that hedonistic expression that you had not known he could make but find you can't get enough of now. The movement of his head sinking back causes him to push his bare chest further upwards against your hand, his back beautifully arched. He's always been handsome to you, even hot, but right now he's positively sexy, and you wouldn't be able to refuse him even if you'd had the slightest inkling to do so.
All right, Data, let's see what other reactions I can get from you.
You readjust yourself, so that you are resting on your hip and both hands are free. One hand goes to his stomach, using the flat of the palm to rub firm circles back and forth across his belly. Your other hand continues its amorous dance across his chest, alternating between scratching gently with your nails and stroking with the pads of your fingers. You watch his face carefully, eager to see his response, your pulse throbbing. You tease your forefinger slowly around his left nipple, then without warning gently pinch and tug the pretty rose gold nub.
Data's reaction makes liquid heat pour through every inch of your body. The gorgeous android opens his mouth in a short, sweet sighing gasp, his head dropping back sharply so that you have a full view of his handsome profile. His fingers tighten impulsively against the picnic blanket, and his back and chest arch even further. The reaction is so human that for a moment you think your touch must have magically turned him flesh and blood.
You smile in delight at seeing him like this, though your own breathing has turned noticeably heavier. But at the same time, you are overcome with curiosity about his strangely human behavior.
After a couple seconds, he relaxes again and you go back to casually trailing your fingers in random patterns over his torso. "Do you like it?" you whisper to him.
Golden eyes meet yours. "Yes," he whispers back in a voice so quiet you have to focus to hear him.
"Do you mind if I ask a question?"
"I do not mind."
"You told me that you don't feel any sort of pleasure, right?"
He considers this. "Not by the human definition, but as I have told you, I find certain forms of sensory stimulation to my neural net to be…enjoyable."
"But your reactions look so much like pleasure." You chew your lip, trying to gather your thoughts. "Data, are your reactions real, or are you just programmed that way to make you seem more human to a lover?"
Data frowns thoughtfully at that. "I believe that your premise is faulty. The wording of your question suggests a strict binary – that either my reactions are 'real' or 'not real' – and the assumption that my reactions being programmed would negate their authenticity. I do not believe this is necessarily accurate."
You continue stroking his chest. "What do you mean?"
To your surprise, Data doesn't answer you. Instead, he pushes himself up towards you and cradles the back of your neck in his hand. You gasp lightly as you unexpectedly feel Data's lips at your neck, just below your ear. His thumb strokes beautifully against your pulse as his lips and tongue glide over your skin, and you shudder helplessly at the wave of pleasure that washes over you and lean instinctively into his touch.
After a second or two though, he pulls away again and when you look at him, he's watching you with keen interest. "Tell me," he says, "did you intend to respond to me in the manner you just did."
"No," you answer.
"But would you say that your reactions to me were inauthentic?"
"No," you repeat slowly, the point he's making dawning upon you.
Data nods, seemingly satisfied. "As a human, you are in a way programmed to respond to certain stimuli within certain parameters. In your case, I believe you would simply call it instinct." He presses his lips together, thinking. "Yes, my responses are programmed but I would also consider them to be 'real', in much the same way that most humans would consider their own instinctive behaviors 'real'. When I am touched in a particular location, or in a particular fashion, my behavioral programming draws from an extensive database of possible physical and vocal reactions. The programming selects an appropriate reaction, which it then runs as part of my behavioral algorithm. I am not actively choosing my responses, so one might say that they are completely natural to my unique nature, and therefore real."
You smile softly. "In other words, perhaps we're not all that different."
Data's lips tweak upward. "No, perhaps we are not."
He takes a little breath before continuing. "As to the realistic nature of my reactions, that is to my father's credit. Although I did not know him well and have little memory of him, what I do know indicates that he took special pride in my sexuality program, given its extensive and detailed nature. It appears he went to a great deal of effort to make me seem as human as possible in this specific area, perhaps to put potential romantic partners at ease."
You nod your understanding, but another question niggles at you. "Data, you told me once that your reactions are particularly strong when you experience sensations in new or unique ways. Have you…has anyone touched you like this before? Not that there's anything wrong with either answer," you add quickly. "I'm just wondering if you've done anything like this before."
A flash of something passes through Data's eyes, sadness perhaps mingled with something else inscrutable. His voice is as composed as ever though. "I have engaged in romantic activity on a few brief occasions. However, I have never experienced an extended romantic relationship such as the one you and I are engaged in. Additionally, in all of my previous encounters, my enjoyment of said encounters was not considered a priority by my partners. You are the first in that regard. However, since I was the one incapable of experiencing physical pleasure, at the time and given the circumstances it seemed like a reasonable arrangement."
"But you just told me that you can enjoy being on the receiving end," you say firmly, indignance for him and a sense of protectiveness rising in you. "You deserve to have your needs met, just as much as any woman you might be with."
He looks at you, and his eyes are so soft and warm you feel you might melt. "I am glad you believe so. Although I am happy to provide enjoyable experiences for my partner, tonight I have learned, for the first time, that I believe I also enjoy the attention of a lover. No one has ever touched me quite as you have this evening. Thank you, Y/N."
You blush, self-consciously brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Well, it's not like I'm getting nothing out of the experience. It was me who wanted to see you out of your jacket to begin with, after all." You pause, considering. "What do you want now, Data?"
He gives your question a careful two seconds of consideration. "If you find it agreeable, I believe I would like to discover what new input I would experience were you to stimulate my bioplast with your mouth."
Your mouth all but waters. "I'd love to," you answer in a strained voice, and you mean it with every fiber of your being.
You stretch out beside him again, your hip bumping against his and your foot rubbing gently against his leg, and reach out your arm to encircle his trim waist. You pause for a moment, soaking in the sight of the handsome android stretched out beneath you on the checkered blanket, his pale eyes fixed intently on you, anticipation in the part of his lips and his raised brow, as he waits to see what you will do with him next. You stroke your fingers slowly back and forth just above the rim of his pants, then you lean over him, pressing downwards as your eyes flutter nearly shut until you feel your lips come in contact with skin. His bioplast is pulled tight over his chest, both soft and firm. You begin to let your lips explore the texture of him, straying over the masculine curve of his broad chest.
Data lifts a hand and cards his fingers gently through your hair as you press kisses across his chest, his touch inquisitive and tender. His fingertips rub against your scalp and you make a quiet noise of appreciation, muffled by his skin. He pauses then repeats the movement and you purposefully make the noise again, letting him know you enjoy his touch. More confidently, he rubs his fingers firmly against the top of your head. You smile; although he might not always be sure of himself off the bat, Data is consistently quick on the uptake of learning just what you like.
You press your lips firmly to the left side of his chest and once again feel the soft pulsing of his mechanical heartbeat. How did you get so lucky? An image flashes through your head: the first time you met him. You remember how handsome you found him that very first day in the exobiology lab, how gentle and kind and polite he seemed. How charming the little mechanical movements of his head were and how graceful his fingers. But how could an android with no feelings ever return your affections? Yet here you are, three years later, lying in his arms with your lips at his heart.
But then again, your heart has always been that of an exobiologist, so maybe it's fitting that you found your way to the most unique and beautiful life form in the known universe.
A wave of deep contentment settles over you and you squeeze your arms tightly around him and slide down until you're resting your head on his chest. Mmm, yes, as it turns out, his chest does make as wonderful a pillow as it looks. You press your cheek down into him and snuggle yourself against his lithe form. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you close to himself, and you don't mind in the least that the movement is somewhat mechanical.
The two of you lie there in one another's arms, looking out over the beautiful, strange landscape of Tavarius II, as the planet's sun begins to slip behind the giant pink and orange planet filling half the sky above you. For a moment, the sky is streaked with brilliant colors, then the sun slips past the horizon and a quiet, pink dusk falls around you. Off in the twilight, you hear the chirrups of pirin calling to each other and the flutter of soft, furry wings.
At last, Data carefully lifts you away from himself. You glance to his face in a silent question and he gives you a melancholy look in response. "In precisely thirty minutes, I will need to report to the Bridge for my night watch shift," he explains. "It is sufficient time for me to get back into uniform, end the program, walk you back to your quarters, and reach the Bridge, but I am afraid it leaves us no further time beyond that."
Data's uniform jacket is still lying in the grass where you discarded it, and you help him into it (or rather he politely allows you to help), and you tug the zipper up until it reaches his nape. As you stand up together, you rub the wrinkles out of the front of his uniform and pat down his loosened curls.
Data lifts his head and addresses the sky. "Computer, end program."
With a faint whirr, the landscape of Tavarius II dissolves around you and the two of you are left standing in the middle of the empty holodeck.
Data looks at you and the corners of his mouth lift just slightly into that cute smile of his. "I have saved the program under my personal files. Perhaps we shall visit Tavarius II again, either here or one day in person."
You loop your arm through his and lean against him. "You know, Data, I think we will."
The door hisses open in front of you, and as you pass through, you cast a glance backwards at the darkened room, a slightly wistful feeling washing over you. But then you smile and lean your cheek against Data's shoulder as he leads you away down the hall. Yes, you are certain you and your beloved android have many more adventures awaiting you and many more strange, new worlds to discover together.
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This was a cool bookmark! This is “Bullets” by Data Romance as I see it because of synesthesia, a condition that impacts sensory input and can cause music to me see as well as heard!
It’s almost your one year anniversary with Data, and you’re planning something special. What is it?
Geordi helps me with the particulars.
We make sure to meet up covertly while Data is on duty at Ops and come up with our plan. “Data’s going to be coming down to Engineering to help with the coil realignment at 1300 hours,” Geordi tells me. “I’ll ask him then.” The Chief Engineer chuckles mischievously and rubs his hands together. “Oh, I can’t wait to see how he reacts.”
After his shifts for the day are over, Data comes to find me. “Darling, I know tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of our romantic couplehood. Do you still wish to keep our engagement tomorrow evening?”
“Of course,” I say, draping my arms casually around his neck.
He looks almost sheepish. “This afternoon, Geordi inquired as to whether I would join him tomorrow at the holodeck after we get off our morning shifts. I informed him that it was my anniversary with you tomorrow, but that I would inquire with you whether you would mind if I spent a few hours earlier in the day in his company rather than yours.”
I pat the front of his chest fondly. “Of course it’s all right, Data. You don’t have to spend every spare moment with me, and I know you and Geordi haven’t been able to arrange one of your excursions in a while. You go and have fun with Geordi and I’ll see you later.”
The next afternoon, I get into costume and wait for Geordi’s signal. It comes in the form of a chirp from Geordi’s spare combadge that he slipped me yesterday during our planning session. “OK,” Geordi’s voice comes over the combadge, “Data and I are heading up to Holodeck Two in just a minute. Give us ten minutes and we’ll be in position.”
“Acknowledged,” I respond with an audible grin in my voice.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing in front of the door to Holodeck Two. I tap the control panel and the computer’s voice informs me, “Commander Data Sherlock program in progress.” Adjusting my skirts, I tap the command button to open the door and step into the holodeck.
I’m on a cobblestone street, looking up at a two-story townhouse. The sounds of wagon wheels and horse hooves on the cobblestone and voices of passerby’s fill my ears, and there’s a smell of smoke. I walked up to the door, glancing at the black letters set in the alcove above the entrance: 221B.
Inside, I make my way up a narrow winding set of wooden stairs until I come to the top landing. In front of me is a plain wooden door. I smooth out my skirt and pat my elaborate updo to make sure it’s still in place, then take a breath and knock on the door.
Inside, I hear a familiar voice theatrically declare. “Watson! We seem to have a visitor at our door. Be a good fellow and see who it is, will you?”
I hear Geordi’s voice respond with something I cannot hear and then Data is speaking again. “Ah very well, I shall answer it myself.”
The next moment, the door is opening and I am face-to-face with the legendary Sherlock Holmes.
He freezes momentarily when he sees me, his golden eyes flickering up and down my entire figure, taking me in. I can see his systems working in the expression behind his eyes, attempting to integrate my unexpected presence into his program. But he quickly recovers and adjusts, his Sherlock persona falling impeccably back into place. He holds out his hand. “Madam, I do not believe we are formerly acquainted. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing and for what purpose?”
I take his hand. “Mr. Holmes. Irene Adler.”
His eyes sparkle in recognition of the name. Of course, he knows it; he has every single one of Arthur Conan Doyle’s mysteries saved in his memory cells. His lips twitch into a small smile. He lifts my hand and places a delicate, gentlemanly kiss to the back of it. “Madam Adler, please come in. If I am correct, I believe you are coming from the theatre district with the news of a dastardly deed committed against the Duke of Norfolk. I wish to hear all about it!”
The next few hours pass by in a blur of excitement as the three of us are led on a romp around Victorian London, searching for the brigand responsible for the theft of a priceless family heirloom. Mysteries aren’t my forte, but getting to see Data in his detective element is exquisite. There’s a gleam to his eyes, a vigor to his movements and voice, that I know aren’t just part of his Sherlock persona. He’s indulged me in several of my hyperfixations over the last year, and I’m delighted to finally be sharing in one of his with him.
We arrive back at 221B Baker Street as the holodeck sun is setting. Data takes off his signature grey cap and cloak and hangs them both on a wooden hanger in the corner of the room. There’s something slow to his movements, as if he’s reluctant to bring the adventure to an end.
Apparently, Geordi can sense it too. “Well, that’s another mystery solved, Holmes old boy,” he says cheerfully, clapping Data on the shoulder. He fakes a yawn. “I think I’m ready to turn in for the night. How about you?”
Data’s eyes are fixed on me and he makes no move. “I will join you presently, Watson,” he murmurs, but his voice is more Data than Holmes.
I see Geordi’s eyebrows rise knowingly over the top of his VISOR before my gaze strays back to Data. I hear the Chief Engineer’s command of “Arch!” followed by the whoosh of the mechanical doors opening and closing, and then it’s just the two of us.
Data takes my hand. “Madam Adler, you have proven yourself as a woman of both inestimable wit and cunning. I would mislike to find myself in the role of your adversary, but conversely am fain to consider you a partner in matters of the wit and mind.”
I can’t help but notice how handsome he is in his Victorian suit and bowtie. I run my free hand up into his hair, leaning in close to him so that my lips are almost at his cheek. “And what of something more, my dear Holmes?”
His hand slips down the bodice of my outfit to rest against the small of my back. “An intriguing idea.” His voice is half Holmes, half Data.
I push him until the backs of his legs hit his armchair by the fire, encouraging him to sit. He does, and I promptly drape myself over his lap, one arm around his neck, fingers playing in his hair. “An intriguing idea indeed,” I reply softly and lean forward, my lips pressing against his cheek, then his jaw, then his lips. He wraps both arms around my waist and kisses me back.
One make-out session later, Data lifts his head away from me, his eyes serious. “You do know,” he says, “in the original works of Arthur Conan Doyle, Irene Adler was not in fact a love interest for Sherlock Holmes. His admiration for her was purely platonic. It was later derivative works that portrayed her as a romantic affiliate of Holmes’s.”
I trace a finger down his jawline. “Is that so?”
He nods. “It is.” His eyes stray down slightly to where the top few buttons of my blouse have come undone, and he tilts his head, as if considering undoing some more of them. “I am, however, willing to overlook the canonical inaccuracy in favor of a more pleasurable evening.”
He follows this statement with a series of amorous kisses down my throat and between the undone buttons. I bury my fingers in his hair, pressing him closer to me, and close my eyes, smiling. “I’m glad to hear that.”
As his hands begin to rove deliciously against my body once again, I whisper into his hair. “Happy anniversary, Data.”
We know Data loves dressing up in different costumes and role playing.... imagine a date (holodeck or on Earth) where you go to a Ren faire together! (Go on, imagine! What’s involved?)
I know I’ve had these asks sitting in my inbox for a good while now, and I’ve decided to go ahead and answer them. Partially, I’ve been sitting on them because when I feel down I go look at my Data fairy asks to feel warm and fuzzy and to give myself daydream material :P
I adore going to Renn faires, and I have a feeling Data would get a kick out of it too. I mean, we know how much the man loves to play dress up and pretend, and I think he’d like the idea of a bunch of people getting together and all pretending to be from another time period in real life, as opposed to it all being holo images.
Data of course would want to do research. He’d read all the available literature on medieval history, as well as fantasy novels and historical fiction, and in the evenings leading up to our trip, he and I would curl up together on the couch and watch period or fantasy movies. Data would provide a running commentary on historical inaccuracies in said movies, and I would smile when I hear the indignancy in his voice that I know he’d deny if I called him out on it. Instead, I’d lean my head against his shoulder and snuggle against his laptop-warm body and listen to the velvet of his voice: “This is incorrect. Although this motion picture purports to take place in 11th century England, trebuchets were not invented until the 12th century in France. I believe this is what is called “an anachronism’.”
Data would love picking out our costumes. We’d first discuss whether to go more historical or more fantasy. Ever since I showed him the Lord of the Rings movies and we read the books together towards the beginning of our relationship, he has developed an appreciation for the complexity, grandeur, and literary influence of Tolkien’s work, plus he knows it’s my favorite. He coyly suggests going as an elven couple and watches me carefully for my response. I take one look at him, imagining him with cute, pointed elven ears and elegant, fitted fantasy clothing and feel my cheeks start to burn. Let’s just say, it doesn’t take much to sell me on the idea.
The big day itself dawns. I’m wearing my favorite, most comfortable Renn faire outfit based on Arwen’s blue and red dress from LOTR with a dark blue ground-length body and transparent white angel sleeves. I wear my hip-length hair down with a braided silver circlet acquired from a previous faire visit, and I finish it off with my elf ear extensions. All ready, I head out to the living room to find Data waiting for me.
Oh, I knew he’d be hot and I thought I’d be prepared, but it takes me a grand total of two seconds to realize I’m not prepared, not prepared at all. He’s not just hot. He’s beautiful.
He was very particular in keeping the details of his outfit a surprise to me and he looks inordinately pleased with himself at my stunned silence. His tunic is dark blue to match my dress, with a high mandarin collar that accentuates his long neck and a deep V neckline that shows off a tantalizing slice of golden chest. There’s intricate gold filigree down the chest of his top and a gold sash drawing attention to his narrow waist, and the color brings out his eyes even more than usual. There’s a white undershirt that goes down to his wrists and he’s wearing grey tights that I might have stared at just a second longer than necessary and thigh high boots.
I knew that he has control over his follicle growth, but I still can’t help staring at seeing him with long, dark, silky hair down to the middle of his back. He’s wearing ear extensions too with a circlet similar to mine, except that his is gold. His eyes and pale skin are always so beautiful, but right now they are giving him a level of ethereal otherworldliness that I’ve never seen before and that makes my heart pound and my cheeks burn.
He holds out his hand to me, eyebrows rising just slightly, and long, golden fingers curling just slightly in an invitation. “My lady, are you ready to depart?”
We transport to the faire grounds. There’s always so much to take in: brightly colored tents, hundreds of vendors selling everything from weapons to clothing to jewelry to candles, strolling minstrels, and people dressed as everything from Vikings to fairy princesses. Data, who’s never been to a Renn faire before, is clearly fascinated, and I can see him processing all the sights, sounds, and smells.
We spend the day walking through the stalls, holding hands and comparing our various finds. At a milliner stall, Data gets sucked in by an enthusiastic vendor who convinces him to try on hats and test them out in front of a mirror. He studies each one seriously as if picking the right one is a matter of life and death. He finally settles on a pretty, soft beret-like cap of a grey that matches his tights, with a long black feather stuck in it that drapes against his neck and shoulder.
For lunch, we both indulge in the Renn faire tradition of a huge turkey leg with cups of frothy root beer. We sit in the stage pavilion, listening to a Celtic folk band while we eat our turkey legs. Once the food is gone, I take the opportunity to scoot closer to Data, my arm slipping around his waist, and rest my head on his shoulder. The feather from his cap tickles my cheek. He gently puts his arm around my waist and we listen, Data occasionally leaning over to enthusiastically tell me something about the history of a particular song.
For the afternoon, there’s a tournament with knights on horseback and pages with streaming banners. We are instructed to cheer for one of the knights and watch as they crash into each other, lancing shattered as cheers resound around us. Data leans over to me. “Although I understand that such tournaments were a popular historical diversion, I am not sure I understand the full appeal. Such tournaments were often dangerous and resulted in broken bones or even the death of contestants.”
“Can’t the same be said of Parrises squares? How many bones do you think Commander Riker has broken on the Parrises squares court?”
Data’s eyebrows rise and he concedes the point. “Perhaps humans have an innate desire to create an element of danger in their lives. Perhaps the excitement that such danger provides is a necessary stimuli.”
As the afternoon creeps closer to evening, Data gets us a huge ice cream cone and we sit in the back of the pavilion again, listening to the final band and sharing the ice cream. We both go to lick the ice cream at the same time and end up bumping our noses together, which leads to a sugary peck on the lips, which leads to a deeper kiss that I reluctantly cut short. We might be tucked in the back corner of the pavilion, but it still won’t do to let myself get too carried away. We listen to the final song, then slowly head for the gate, arms and fingers twined.
We arrive back home via transporter and Data makes as if to leave and change out of his outfit, but I stop him. “Oh no you don’t. I’ve had to look at you in that sexy outfit all day long, and you’re not taking it off until I’ve been able to properly enjoy you in it.”
There’s a glitter to Data’s golden eyes, along with a rise of his eyebrows, a tilt of his head, and a tiny quirk of his lips. “It has been a highly enjoyable day. However, I am amenable to seeing if we can make it even more enjoyable.”
I wrap my arms around Data’s neck, tipping my head up until our lips are millimeters apart and I can feel the soft puff of his breath. “I’d like that as well…my lord.”
