GOD I just watched Descent Part Two and boy do I have some THINGS TO SAY!!!!
THIS!! Number one, Brent Spiners acting shines through ONCE AGAIN with the differences between Data/Lore, and I can't!!! Get enough!!!
But this shot!!!
They're having a civil conversation. But there's a power imbalance.
The power, in this episode, sits in Lore. Lore has something Data wants: Emotions. Or access to emotions. He is the only one who can give them to him (and is doing that, although in a twisted sort of way) and Data KNOWS that. He's being manipulated, sure, but he still knows that fact is true. He knows Lore has that power over him, and he's following his lead here.
Yet, the way they're standing.
Data is standing tall, calm with his arms straight at his sides. Showing No Sign of aggression. He's trusting, he's open to be hurt in his position. Only his head moves when he's speaking. And he's speaking calmly, even though Lore has his BEST FRIENDS VISOR in his hand. And with previous knowledge of Lores misdeeds and wrongdoings that's a BIG DEAL. and yet, he's still standing at equal footing with Lore.
Lore though. Lore!!! He's hunched slightly. He's holding the visor in front of him like a shield!!! His facial expression!! He's thinking. He looks frightened even though he's in a position and power And KNOWS IT!! He still cracking wise (which is shown to be his coping mechanism and reflex in difficult situations, like with Dr. Soong) and trying to diffuse situations.
Lore has the power here, but the simple acting of Brent Spiner shows differently.
a/n: this came to me while I was in the shower myself and blacking out (losing vision and hearing) repeatedly because I decided taking a hot shower was a good idea. So I suddenly pictured this scene in my head and I decided to write a fictober fic about Data being a protective partner and not dealing with my shiz – aka me ignoring the fact that I have a chronic illness and that my body can’t regulate its own temperature.
I juST WANT A SCALDING HOT SHOWER WITH NO RISKS, DARNIT.
DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.
fanfic or original work: fanfic
fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
prompt: (#24) “Are you kidding me?“
summary: reader has a chronic illness (POTS/Dysautonomia) and decides to do something stupid, which Data rectifies immediately.
warnings: reader has a chronic illness, playful arguing, light language
terms used: spoon = chronically ill folk like myself refer to our energy levels as spoons. For example, doing one chore or taking a shower would take up one spoon, and some days we might have three more spoons or no more spoons left to spare after that.
word count: 2.9K
music: What I Love About Charlie by Randy Newman
The soft whoosh of the door to your quarters hummed peaceably to a close behind you as you crossed the threshold of your small haven among the stars. There was a reminiscent twinge of lavender in the air from the candles you had burned before your shift, daring you to clamber under the soft duvet of your large bed and let sleep have its way with you. However, instead of such, you heaved a wearied sigh and slid your shoes off by the door, nudging them against the wall, knowing full well that you had only one spoon left to spend – and you needed a shower.
Your movement by the door warranted the attention of a certain ginger tabby who plodded up to you from her hideout under the cool recesses of the multi-tiered scratching post. The indulgent warmth of Spot’s fur comforted you as she lathered her forehead against your calves. You smiled down at her and whispered a soft greeting, granting her head a gentle pat.
When you stepped forward to make your way to the bedroom suite, she wove herself in-between your legs in the pattern of an eager infinity circle before ambling over to her half-empty dish near the replicator. A long strain of melodramatic meowing ensued.
“Spot,” - you dragged out the vowel in her name in feigned frustration and opened your dresser drawer flamboyantly for emphasis - “there’s still food left from this morning! What are you complaining about?”
I can see the shiny glint in the bottom of the bowl, she seemed to meow.
An amused chuckle left your lips as you shook your head at the begging tabby. Those piercing green orbs of hers always seemed to do the talking when she was quiet, but when she spoke so loudly like this, the “puppy dog” effect was in full swing. You would have given in, too, if it hadn’t been for the various feeding schedules you knew Data was testing.
He had been attempting to find her preferred supplement mix for the last couple of weeks, but she seemed indifferent to everything except the food she could always persuade you to give her from your own plate. After she refused so many of the different mixtures and flavors he had coded, he theorized that it might have been something to do with her feeding time rather than a picky sense of taste – and perhaps the added incentive of your spoiling her so much, which Data didn’t seem to mind.
After gathering fresh undergarments, fuzzy socks, and a comfortable set of loungewear, you crossed the carpeted floor and headed for the bathroom, passing by Spot as you went. “Data will be home soon and he’ll feed you, okay? I don’t want to interfere with the schedule he’s trying out.”
As if she couldn’t understand you – or perhaps she simply refused to acknowledge that answer – her meows kept coming until you turned the corner and disappeared from her sight. You set your wad of clothes on the stout countertop by the sink and began taking off your uniform, dropping it in a heap by the doorway to be put through the garment processor later on. With a tired, achy intake of air, you stepped inside the shower dome and began entering your preferred specifications on the small grade LCARS panel.
You were almost ready to engage the water feature of the shower – you much preferred the soothing effect it had on your body rather than the quick efficiency of a sonic shower – when you pondered in the last second whether or not to indulge in a higher temperature. Your finger rested idly above the panel that waited for your touch.
Would it be alright to let yourself have a hot shower for once? To just let the steam relax your aching muscles?
A knowing sigh escaped your lips.
It never ended well when you indulged yourself like this, even just in the simplest things. Hot showers were soothing in the moment, but as soon as the water turned off and you stepped out, your body was unable to balance its temperature and you would become absolutely drained and sometimes even purple below your knees. There were always consequences when it came to your autonomic issues – such as lasting fatigue, frequent trips to sickbay for sodium supplements to regulate your blood pressure, and even having to miss shifts on occasion.
You were of course grateful that the world around you had excelled to a point where chronically ill bodies were able to be more readily treated and accommodated, especially in a place like Starfleet, but there were still times when it was just all a bit much.
Your next thought was of Data. As your husband and closest friend, he was the best anyone could ask for, especially in your situation. He was always going the extra mile in your relationship to help you keep up with your symptoms and sure you were taking care of yourself at all times. He even checked in on you throughout the day by use of your combadges. He never hesitated to stop you from pushing yourself too far or doing something stupid – like taking a hot shower when you knew that the aftermath was never fun to deal with.
He wouldn’t approve of this at all.
But you were cold and sore from a day spent on your feet that had been riddled with dizzy spells, palpitations, and a myriad of other symptoms that hardly ever left your body. Very few things feel better than a hot soak after a long day, and a lukewarm shower just didn’t appeal to you.
Without a second thought, you raised the temperature of the water and let the hot entity coat your body in its calming pitter-patter rhythm. The heady feel of the steam enveloped you like a warm blanket and you released another sigh – this time peacefully, with a sense of long-awaited relief.
Data passed through the door of your shared quarters and immediately noticed your shoes toppled over one another near the entryway. Subconsciously, he was acutely made aware of the sound of running water from the other room. He turned to follow the source, deducing that you were well enough to shower after a full day’s work, which was a tremendous feat for your body. Plus, it was purely ritual to say hello to each other as soon as you arrived back home. His turn of direction was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Spot, who nudged herself against his legs impatiently.
“Hello, Spot. It is nice to see you as well,” he knelt down and stroked the feline head to tail, contentedly smiling to himself as her curling spine conformed like putty to the mold of his hand, “I assume you are ready for your next helping of food, yes?”
The tabby meowed once before returning to a low purr.
“I thought you might be. It has been approximately eight hours and seventeen minutes since your last meal,” - Data scooped the satisfied cat up in his arms and carried her over to her dish, never breaking eye contact with her - “If my studies are correct, this should be an appropriate time to allow you your second portion since there has been ample time for proper digestion.”
It was only when Data had bent to reach for her dish that he realized she had only eaten a little more half of the breakfast supplement he had laid out for her. It had been infused with vitamins and other nutrients beneficial to the feline species, which he had hoped she would enjoy. Apparently, Spot was pickier than that.
Everything but the very bottom layer had been devoured, just until she reached the silver shine of the lowermost rim and left the rest to dry distastefully. His head tilted to the side as he contemplated all the possible causes for her sudden disinterest.
“Curious,” he simply stated.
Spot squirmed out of his arms and sniffed her bowl once before resting low to the ground in anticipation. Data picked up the bowl and set it onto the replicator tray. It dissolved into nothingness before being replaced by Spot’s dinner supplement, which he promptly placed on the floor. He refreshed her water dish and stroked her back dotingly as she scarfed down her food with an enthusiasm she sparingly demonstrated.
Data quirked his head to the side slightly, resolving to the realization that perhaps Spot was not meant to be understood most of the time, but rather accommodated.
When he stood, he turned back to the sound of running water with a lingering glance at his little tabby and made his way to the bathroom. He stopped short when he noticed the steam pouring out of the doorway and dissipating amongst the broad cast of lamplight on the ceiling. Without batting an eye, Data acted quickly. “Computer, override Lieutenant (L/n)’s controls of the LCARS shower panel and reset the water temperature to sixty-seven degrees Fahrenheit.”
There was a chirp as the computer relayed his directions before transmitting audibly in the living area where he stood. “Controls have been overridden. Temperature resetting.”
Data watched as the steam dissipated from the doorway and nodded to himself with an air of self-satisfaction. In a split second, there was a shriek of discomfort he had been expecting.
You recoiled from the stream of chilled water and slammed your fingers against the LCARS panel, hitting every possible control to reheat the temperature. When it refused to respond, except with a blaring sound that indicated your action was blocked, you cursed under your breath. “Are you kidding me!?”
“Computer, why isn’t this panel responding?”
“You have been denied access to the temperature dial.”
“Denied access? By who?”
“Lieutenant Commander Data.”
You huffed in frustration, slowly inching yourself around the water and towards the curved glass door, sliding it open enough to fit your head through. “DATA SOONG!”
The sound of his solid and perfectly timed footsteps approached until you saw him standing in the doorway of your bathroom.
“What did you do to my shower?”
“I have prohibited you from endangering yourself with your chosen temperature setting.”
“Data, I’m a full-grown adult. I can choose the temperature of my own shower.”
With a pointed finger, he stepped closer. “You know as well as I that higher temperatures in your showers cause your blood pressure and internal body temperature to spiral. You have said yourself on many occasions that the immediate satisfaction is not worth the toll it takes on your cardiovascular symptoms,” - he paused only to jut his chin downwards and quirk an eyebrow at you in an imitating fashion as if to prove his point - “Have you not?”
A mock-gasp passed your lips. His matter-of-fact statement held a certain air of sass to it that you hadn’t expected—it was moments like these that made you wonder how people could think Data was incapable of his own emotions. It was so obvious in some moments, however vague or fleeting, that he was entirely capable of expressing himself.
“But it’s FREEZING!”
“I assure you, (Y/n), the temperature is not low enough to freeze. I set it myself. You are simply acclimated to the hotter setting of one hundred and nine degrees Fahrenheit. It is no doubt a shock to your body to experience such a steep decline in temperature, but it does not put you at risk,”
“The chills all over my body would beg to differ,” you muttered.
Timidly, your feet inched back under the waterfall, testing its discomfort. You kept the door slightly ajar so you could hear his impending lecture, slowly dipping your head under and rinsing the lathered shampoo from your hair. Contorting your back in what was likely not Beverly Crusher approved posture, you made sure your sopping wet hair of ice didn’t make contact with your back.
Data continued. “In fact, I have done extensive research regarding the benefits of colder bathing routines. It has been proven that cold water actually increases circulation and can reduce muscle soreness. Some results indicate that human hair and skin is greatly improved in shine and condition, causing a ‘glowing’ effect.”
While listening to your husband’s voice and internalizing his carefully researched evidence, you found it hard to stay annoyed. He was devoted to you in every possible way, even in the ways a human partner would hardly have the patience for. Despite your tendency to return to harmful habits for the sake of quick pleasure – even just a hot shower or a bite of dark chocolate – he was ever-faithful and willing to help you each and every time.
A fluttery sensation erupted in your stomach, just as it had the first day you had met him. You silently hoped that feeling would never subside.
All while he talked, you managed to withstand the cold long enough to rinse the scrubs and creams from your body quickly enough to avoid the first symptoms of common hypothermia. When the water finally shut off under your input, you slid the door open and looked around for the towel you had evidently forgotten to set out.
When you tuned back into Data’s conversation, your ears weren’t prepared for the mental image they evoked. “-last meeting in Ten Forward, Commander Riker informed me that he prefers cold showers over the alternative. He enjoys the rush that the lower tempera-”
“I couldn’t care less about how Commander Riker and his naked ass cheeks bathe. I’m cold,” you shivered, wrapping your arms about your chest.
Without being prompted, Data turned to the linen closet where a smaller replicator was located for such a purpose. He tapped away on the panel until it replicated his entry. Grabbing the towel, he turned and unraveled it as he came to your side.
“Here,” he held it out in front of him for you to step into, “I replicated a heated towel, not unlike the heating pad you often use for easing pain. It should be far more comfortable for you.”
You stepped forward and let him wrap you into the warm cloth. A shiver wobbled your limbs briefly as he tucked the corners under your chin for you to hold in place. Glancing down, you found that your legs were, in fact, not purple. Your fingers and toes weren’t numb or tingly. You were tired from the exertion, but you weren’t nearly as dizzy. It was a pleasant change.
Perhaps Data was on to something—maybe a cold shower was better for you.
You smiled up at him, leaning into his chest. "I know I complain about how you help me sometimes, but I really do appreciate you, Data. I don't think I'd be able to stay here aboard this starship if it weren't for you. Thank you."
"It is one of the greatest pleasures in my life that I am able to help you succeed, (Y/n). However, I do not require praise for my efforts; it is what any husband would do for his wife, in any situation. It was a condition in our vows that I fully intend to honor."
Your smile broadened. "You'd be surprised at how hard it is for humans to help each other sometimes...and I still want to thank you, just for being you-- and how willing you are to put up with me."
"In that case, you are welcome. But I do not simply 'put up with you'. You are not a burden to me. I value your companionship above all else."
"I love you, too, Data," you leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, which he responded to almost eagerly.
You made your way to the nightwear you had set out and carefully clambered into them while holding your towel to your skin as long as physics would permit. When you had dressed and disposed of the towel and your uniform, you shut the lights out and followed after Data.
He stood by the dresser and pulled out his own set of pajamas you had replicated for him some holiday past, and proceeded to change. Although he did not have the need for sleep, he did enjoy mimicking a normal life as much as possible. Not because he was a puppet or sought solely to please you, but because Data wanted to belong—not only in the wide universe of sentient, feeling beings, but also in the simple warmth shared between two people under the intimate haven of a soft duvet.
He preferred imitating sleep alongside you rather than keeping himself busy with other things in between his shifts, which consequently allowed him to roam his own memories and run the occasional diagnostics.
His most frequently visited memories were those he shared with you and his close friends, such as Geordi and Guinan. But his favorites, if he were able to choose in an emotionally attached sense, were the moments he had spent with you, down to the very millisecond. Every last detail.
With an exaggerated exhale, you plopped down on the bed and began to brush through your hair. Data had moved to the living area where he checked on Spot, making sure her water dish was full for the night and fluffing her bedding that sat primly under the wide coffee table. Your gaze drifted to his kneeling frame as he tucked her into her own blanket.
“Goodnight, Spot. I wish you sweet dreams, although I do not understand the use of the term ‘sweet’, I suspect it is used as a synonym for pleasant,” he stroked her gently as he spoke, earning a quick lick from her pink tongue, “I do not require grooming, although I do appreciate your effort. If you should need me, I will be in bed with your mother.”
The smile that crept onto your features was effortless.
“It says a great deal about the mind of Commander Data that, looking at the human race, with all its violence and corruption and wilful ignorance, he could still see kindness, the immense curiosity and greatness of spirit.”
An old friend, at rest.
