#gentle data

[positronic-crisis]

Plants Don't Need You To - Book Series

Data x Gender-Neutral Reader

10 Books

Currently updating book 9 (every day one chapter)

Category: Explicit

The Series on AO3

Book 1: Plants Don't Need You To Smile

You’re a botanist aboard the Enterprise, far more comfortable with alien plants than with people.

Understanding emotions has never come easily to you.

Unfortunately, that becomes a problem when an away mission forces you to be in a shuttle with Data for four days — the android who studies humanity with endless curiosity.

And lately, that curiosity seems focused entirely on you.

Or:

Four days alone in a shuttle with Data lead to awkward conversations, unexpected closeness, and feelings you’re not entirely sure how to name.

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Book 2: Plants Don't Need You To Pretend

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Book 3: Plants Don't Need You To Change

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Book 4: Plants Don't Need You To Explain

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Book 5: Plants Don‘t Need You To Understand

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Book 6: Plants Don't Need You To Adjust

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Plants Don‘t Need You To Return

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Plants Don‘t Need You To Prove Anything

Read it on AO3

Plants Don‘t Need You To Hold Back

Read it on AO3

Plants Don‘t Need You To Be Ready

Coming in May

[positronic-crisis]

Plants Don't Need You To Smile - Chapter 9 Briefing

Data x Gender-Neutral Reader

First Chapter

You now sit beside Data, who is scrolling through something on his PADD. You feel the back of your throat tingle because you desperately want to ask him:

Did you test me?

Am I paranoid?

Why do I need to sit in front? What exactly do you need me for?

But you don’t open your mouth. Instead, you look at your own PADD, finding yourself again swiping until you reach the Northea Prime pictures you took.

Again, you see the little river and all the plants around the ones you scanned. By looking at these pictures, you can almost smell the air again. It is heaven. It’s your happy place.

“Ensign zh’Rhotar,” Data suddenly greets.

“Commander,” the ensign nods and sits next to you. Vrena grins at you.

Then she whispers, “Teacher’s pet.”

You are sure Data heard it. You say nothing back.

He also doesn’t comment.

As the other people of Vrena’s — and now also your — team shuffle into the room and find seats, Vrena looks over your shoulder and comments on the pictures.

“I was on that mission,” she mumbles.

“Really? I didn’t see you there,” you whisper.

“We took the transporter. I believe there was some malfunction and we didn’t land where we should have. Next to you all in the shuttle,” she shrugs. “Was a nice little planet, though. No life-forms except plants, right?”

You nod. “Just plants,” you whisper, almost dreamily.

“Let us begin,” Data tells the room. “We are here today to plan the away mission for the Thelmar system.”

You notice your knees sweating now. Because while Data explains that there are three planets in this system, even showing data and long-distance pictures of each planet, everyone stares at you.

“Commander,” Vrena cuts off Data.

You look at her with a shocked expression.

“Yes, Ensign?” He turns to her, having previously been fully focused on the wall screen.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but maybe you could tell us something about…” She carefully nods her head in your direction.

You don’t know if you love or hate her for this. But maybe by telling everyone why you’re here, they will stop staring.

In Data’s mind it seems to take a moment before he realizes his oversight. “Oh. Yes. Of course.”

Then he turns fully to the others. “As we also have a botanical portion in our experiment, I have added a botanist to our team.” He gestures to you.

You look at your lap and bite your lower lip.

“You actually found the Auravine, right?” Vrena says, trying to pull you into the conversation.

“I did,” you whisper and nod.

Data watches you for a second with a tilted head. Then he turns back around.

As far as you understand through all the nerves and embarrassment, the Thelmar system has three planets that support life. Oddly enough, one is an M-class planet — Melvion — and the other two support life in different ways.

There is Hyperra, which has a much higher oxygen concentration in its atmosphere, and Brontus, which has a very strong gravitational pull.

The Auravine, it seems, is just one part of the experiment. In general, the team wants to collect data on the system and its potential for Federation colonies or possible habitats for species from other systems that don’t thrive in a typical M-class environment.

The Auravine is the small botanical component because it is very sensitive to light and water changes. The mission is to plant the Auravine on all three planets and monitor its growth for a couple of days. Meanwhile, other experiments take place.

Captain Picard uses this diplomatically uneventful time to attend a conference, apparently.

While some people will stay on each planet for the duration of the experiment, others need to visit all three.

You are one of those lucky ones.

“Ensign, what can you tell us so far about the Auravine?” Commander Data asks. He is sitting again — right next to you. Far too close for you to concentrate.

So you stay silent and stare at his face.

When you don’t say anything, you feel a foot tap yours.

“The Auravine,” you say, trying to hide your surprise.

Again, you don’t know if you should love or hate Vrena for this.

“They grow… fast. But they’re very sensitive to changes.” You trail off. That’s enough, right?

Apparently not, because Data and the whole team are still watching you.

“Do they have any special properties?” one team member asks.

You look at him, then back at Data. “I don’t think so,” you mumble.

“Wouldn’t it be obvious by scanning them?” the same man continues, sighing slightly.

“No, not with little seedlings,” you mutter — and only then notice you’ve shown part of your true, overly detailed botanical, and nerdy side.

Little seedlings. Completely redundant. They aren’t babies.

Data nods. “I understand that the Auravine are sensitive but can be highly adaptive as well, which makes them the perfect species for this part of the experiment.” He looks at everyone again.

You blush. Of course Data knows everything about the plant. He had already told you yesterday that he was impressed with your detailed reporting on the Auravine — which means, of course, that he had read it.

You nod and look at the cookies again. No one has taken any yet.

The meeting continues for another hour. Much of what they discuss is irrelevant to you. The only thing running through your head is the fact that Data will be preparing you for the mission because you’re far behind in the required training.

When the meeting is finally over, you stay seated for a moment, mindlessly staring at your dark, locked PADD.

Vrena tells you to “move your ass already,” then leaves alone. She seems to have a lot of work today.

You, on the other hand, are in the middle of an existential crisis.

Who are you? Botanist? Scientist? Adventurer?

Do you even work in the arboretum now? What are your tasks? Are you full-time on this now?

Learning how to walk in large, heavy space gear?

Breathe through a tube?

Vrena and the others have already left — probably checking their duty rosters to see what comes next.

As a botanist under Seral’s supervision, it had been much looser. You were simply in the arboretum, doing arboretum things all day. He wouldn’t tell you which plants to water first or which habitat needed checking.

The whole flora-and-fauna part of the science division has always felt like its own little world.

But now a Lieutenant Commander has burst in and made you breathe real, harsh air for the first time.

“Am I correct to assume that you are distressed?” you hear a voice through the ringing in your ears and the fog in your mind.

Data stands at the wall screen, working on something.

How long exactly have you been sitting here, creepily watching him work?

“You are.” Who even cares anymore. You already showed him yesterday what you can do. Now it’s time to let him see what you can’t do.

“Is the reason for your distress the mission?” He looks at you briefly, then back at the wall screen. His hand moves quickly, typing and selecting things. He’s probably working on five things at once.

“Yes, sir,” you nod. The “sir” part is for you alone — to remind yourself that he is your Commander now. Your superior officer, in charge of you and your fate.

And not a friend who looks at bugs with you.

Now he stops working and turns toward you. His brow is slightly furrowed again. You notice that most of his human-like expressions involve his eyebrows.

“I am not good with change and new things,” you sigh and look at the cookies again.

In a moment of desperation, you slide the tray closer and grab two at once.

“That is curious, as you are in Starfleet — an organization that explores unknown space and is constantly in new, unexpected situations.” He tilts his head.

You eat the first cookie. It tastes like grass. Not good, but better than answering.

You just nod.

“May I ask, Ensign, why did you join Starfleet if you prefer to be alone and not experience new things?” Data sets down his PADD on the table and moves the chair opposite you to sit down.

You cough up a cookie crumb and swallow it. “I am in Starfleet because I love it.”

“Interesting, but that does not make sense.”

Time for cookie number two.

Data waits until you finish it. The taste — you don’t even want to discuss it. Now you understand why the tray stayed untouched.

“I guess it doesn’t. I think the reason I’m in Starfleet is because I love caring for new plants.” You shrug.

He nods. Then he takes his PADD again. “I have reserved Holodeck Two in the afternoon. There, I will train you.”

The heat returns. It crawls up your back, into your neck, and finally into your face like a slimy little worm.

Training with Commander Data, it whispers menacingly.

Next Chapter

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[positronic-crisis]

Plants Don't Need You To Smile - Chapter 8 Nerves

Data x Gender-Neutral Reader

First Chapter

Wide-eyed, you stare at the ceiling. The ceiling in this case is the underside of the bunk above you, where Kelly snores into her pillow like she has no worries. And she probably doesn’t.

You, on the other hand, have been tossing and turning since you lay down. You have tried every possible sleep position: covers over you, covers under you, covers between your legs, on your side, your back, your stomach.

No position does what it should.

So you just stare at the ceiling now. Because if you can’t sleep, what else is there to do?

You can’t go to Sickbay. Not again. The first time was awkward enough.

You went to Sickbay after your first hour of sleeplessness. A nurse gave you a pat on the back and basically told you to suck it up.

In cases of nervousness because you have a meeting in the morning, they apparently don’t hand out hyposprays in bulk.

She told you to drink a calming tea.

And that you did. But all the tea did was make you get up again to go pee.

On the way back from the toilets, you yawn to yourself. You are shuddering with exhaustion and excitement — not the good kind though.

From the moment Vrena showed you the PADD that had you listed in her team, everything became a blur.

After that, you just went back to the arboretum and scanned some plants. Which ones? Who knows? It wasn’t like the scanning had any purpose.

Then you went to bed early. Because in your mind that meant more time for sleep and rest. But your mind thought differently. Instead, it meant more time to think about Commander Data.

About the way he grazed your shoulder.

The way he whispered in your ear.

And the way he casually selected you as the team’s botanist.

Yes, it had occurred to you, of course, to just ask him to remove you. But that would mean embarrassment of the highest order. And it’s not like you have a good reason for it. Not one you are ever going to tell him, anyway.

So now you proverbially lie in the bed you made yourself.

The one where a Tellarite is snoring again, so you press your hands over your ears and try to ignore it.

When a Tellarite snores, bunks rattle. At least yours does.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s morning. You don’t know that by looking through the window — space is always the same. But you know it’s morning because Kelly is shouting something at Vrena through the whole hallway.

“Damnit, Kelly,” someone mumbles, obviously having been woken by the loudest of the Enterprise’s ensigns.

“Come on, I’m better than an alarm clock!” she laughs.

“Yeah, but alarm clocks don’t talk back,” the other says.

“Shut up.” You hear her throw a pillow in the other’s direction.

As you slowly sit up in your bunk, you notice every bone and muscle in your body. Somehow you fell asleep at some point in the night — maybe out of sheer exhaustion. But it had not been good sleep, you now realize.

You feel like the transporter scrambled your signal. Everything feels wrong: too loud, too bright, too fast.

Until you remember the reason for your sleeplessness: the meeting.

Far too fast, you jump from your bed and grab everything you need for a quick sonic shower.

“Someone’s motivated!” Kelly yells as you sprint toward the showers.

You don’t have time for her. Or anyone, really.

You are in a tunnel — a tunnel of fear, frustration, and nerves. There is nothing else here but the voice of Commander Data: Would you supervise them?

Why do you never listen? Why is everything so hard to understand when he says it? Since when do you not pay attention?

It basically was your personality at the Academy: while others made friends in the back of the class, you sat up front, took notes, and listened. Yes, you hardly said anything, and your grades were good in some classes, in others not so much. But you always listened. Often your notes were more thorough than those of the teachers.

You are the person who notices details no one else would notice. Why didn’t you notice Commander Data basically asking you if you would join his team?

The questions repeat in your head as you turn the sonic shower to high, and as you stand in front of the replicator forgetting what kind of breakfast you want.

After breakfast you hurry to the arboretum. Don’t you need to inform anyone of this change? Seral and Keiko are depending on you, right?

As you power-walk through the door, you see Cory, Millie, and Hannah.

Your heart drops immediately. You almost forgot about your friends. So you take the water bottle and care for them.

“And then she showed me the PADD and apparently now I’m on this team. I can’t do this, guys. I really just want to stay here with you,” you explain as you bind Hannah’s stem carefully with a piece of yarn. You want to help her grow straighter.

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “It’s just too much. Maybe my mom was right.”

A science vessel. Now, wouldn’t that be nice.

Behind you, you hear someone entering the arboretum. While they were humming at first, they now stop in their tracks.

“What are you doing here?” Keiko gasps and walks over to you and the three plants. You still have your fingers tying the knot so Hannah is secured properly.

“I’m caring for—”

“You have a meeting!” she says with emphasis — but there is a drop of concern mixed into it all.

“But I—”

“Go, I’ll care for these three. I’m good with plants, you might have noticed.” She lays a hand on your back, practically shoving you away from your friends and toward the arboretum’s entrance.

Now that you stand outside your safe place again, your feet feel bolted to the ground. You look around nervously before finally walking toward the next turbolift that will bring you to the conference room clearly marked on your duty roster.

No mistake on Starfleet’s part. The mistake here was you not getting a hint that you were on his team.

On your way to the conference room, you analyze the situations and conversations you had with Commander Data.

And suddenly it all makes sense: he was testing you. He wanted to watch you deal with the problem, and that’s why he stayed in the room when the Betazoid flies sucked out the unneeded moisture from the soil.

He didn’t forget his shift — he was occupied with another important task: evaluating you.

A shiver runs down your spine. Not the good kind either.

What else has he already learned about you? Has he read your file? Of course he has. He is Data. He can read the Federation database in a matter of minutes.

So you gulp as you realize: he probably knows about all your little… quirks. Habits, failings, eccentric behaviors.

Oh no.

While spiraling into despair, you reach the conference room you now dread entering — with all the “knowledge” you have just spun together in your head like a spider’s web.

But it’s already too late.

“Ensign,” he greets you, nodding.

Data is already in the room, working on the wall screen, copying something from his PADD.

“Commander,” you croak and slowly step inside.

“I am glad that you are here. You are the first one,” he explains with a raised brow.

You narrow your eyes slightly. Did you get the time wrong? Or worse: is it another test?

“Please, take a seat,” he says, gesturing toward the table. In the middle there are some snacks.

You bite your lip. That was possible? Snacks in a meeting? Lieutenant Seral never replicates anything.

It is working time, not eating time, he might argue.

Data, of course, notices the way you eye the cookies. So he nods. “If you would like, you can take one.”

“Thank you,” you whisper but don’t take one. Instead, you sit down.

Somewhere in the back. Far away from Data.

You would really like to bang your head on the table now. How could you be so stupid and think, even for a minute, that Lieutenant Commander Data would miss his shift because he had fun looking at bugs with you? By just forming these thoughts, you realize how deluded you have been the last few days.

“Are you not well, Ensign?” he suddenly asks. His brow is furrowed — almost like someone who is concerned.

A test, you remind yourself. A stupid test.

You try to smile. “I am fine, Commander. Thank you for asking.”

You have learned that when people ask how you are, they don’t really want to know. And you definitely don’t want to tell Data that he is the reason for your current misery and panic.

He nods, but his brow stays furrowed.

“Why are you sitting back there?” comes his next question.

“I… I like this chair,” you lie.

“Oh. You can take the chair and come here, please. I need you in front,” he explains — casually. Then he actually moves one of the chairs next to his seat at the end of the table and gestures for you to bring your “favorite” chair over.

To the front, where everyone will be able to see your red face even more clearly.

You nod and attempt to maintain the smile you produced for your earlier lie.

Then you keep up the charade and move your chair to the front. Next to Data.

Next Chapter

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[positronic-crisis]

Plants Don't Need You To Smile - Chapter 4 Request

Data x Gender-Neutral Reader

First Chapter

You hear him coming closer. His footsteps echo on the ground of the arboretum. Still in shock, you haven’t stood up yet. Before you can, it’s too late.

“Excuse me, Ensign,” he addresses you in a soft tone.

You’ve heard him talk to others before — the tone is the same — but somehow it makes you nervous anyway.

You look up, still cross-legged on the floor like a toddler. “Yes?” you ask. Your voice cracks a bit; your vocal cords still haven’t understood the importance of this moment.

“Keiko told me you are the expert on the Auravine,” he begins. His hands rest at his sides, one of them mindlessly holding a PADD.

You look up at him, twisting your neck to meet his face. Then you decide that this arrangement is just too strange. You can’t stay sitting like this — even though you want to. But when a Lieutenant Commander talks to you, you need to be presentable.

Your hands, still full of soil, help you to stand. As you try to straighten your uniform, you only make it dirtier. Damn soil.

“I am,” you answer and nod slightly. Your neck feels stiff, and standing up so quickly makes you dizzy.

And since when is it so hot in here?

“I am curious,” he continues. “Do all plants require the same exact care? I told my team what you explained about watering the Auravine, and they said they would follow your instructions. But now, one of the plants is almost dying, and the other two seem… stressed.”

While watching his lips move, you should have listened too — but sometimes watching and listening are two things you cannot do at the same time.

Plants. He wants to know about the plants, you realize.

“Yes, I calculated the exact watering cycle. I used it on my plants—” You stop and correct yourself, “The plants we have here in the arboretum.” You gesture toward your three friends.

Data follows your hand with his eyes and nods. “I see. These plants are much older.”

You can’t help smiling. “Yes, they are. I’ve noticed that the male plants grow faster. It’s possible you only have female ones.”

He tilts his head. “Is it not obvious? Did you not know the sex of the plants?”

That word.

“No, it’s not noticeable until they’re a few days old. The plants I gave you yesterday are still very young.”

How did his team already manage to kill them? You’re angry at people you don’t even know.

Data looks down at his PADD and shows you pictures of the three plants. He steps closer — and that ruins what little focus you had left.

“These are the plants in the lab.”

You nod.

Sheepishly, you glance up at him from the side. Then there’s that pit again. The pit, and you’re falling right into it. At first it feels endless — but when you hit the ground, everything shatters.

“I think they need more supervision,” you mumble. The sinking feeling in your stomach won’t go away.

Data nods. “I understand. What exactly would you recommend, Ensign?”

You glance over at Keiko. She’s scanning the habitat again.

“Someone should supervise them. Constantly, if possible.”

It’s as if you’re not even talking anymore. You feel yourself floating away — out the airlock.

Data nods again. He’s taller than you.

“Could you supervise them?” he then asks, raising a brow.

Your heart stops for a second. You stare at him — at his questioning expression, his nose, his cheeks. Like a deer in headlights.

“Have I said something wrong?” he asks, bringing you back to the present.

“What?” you croak, uncharacteristically casual.

“Have I done or said something to offend you in any way? I sometimes do that and cannot notice it until later,” he explains softly.

“No,” you shake your head. Your cheeks redden.

“So you do not wish to help me with the plants?” he asks, lowering the arm with the PADD to his side again.

“Yes — I mean, yes, I would like to help you,” you stammer. At this point the Sonara orchid analogy doesn’t even apply anymore.

Data nods and smiles slightly. “Thank you, Ensign. Would you follow me to the science division?”

Inside, you’re squirming. You had other plans for the day. You’re not done with your work, and honestly, you just want to stay here, take a breath, and process what happened.

You see Keiko’s head pop up behind a large fern. She grins and nods.

“I’m not finished with my work here,” you mumble.

“I can finish it!” Keiko calls across the hall. You wince.

“But I’m dirty,” you say, looking down at your hands and uniform.

“I will get you a towel. It is no problem. But I would really appreciate your help as soon as possible,” he says, almost pleading.

You want to sink into the ground and dissolve into the warp core already. You can’t say no to Data.

“Alright,” you nod and glance around. At the entrance of the arboretum you spot a white towel. Without explaining, you walk over and clean yourself as well as a towel can clean off soil.

Data hurries after you and then walks ahead as you both leave the arboretum.

You walk behind him. He looks back at you a few times. Once, he even frowns. But he lets you stay there — even if it’s weird and awkward.

You take a turbolift to the lab. Data tells it which deck, then glances at you from the side, a little questioning.

“I saw in the logs that you document very precisely and in great detail,” he notes.

“Thank you,” you mumble. What else could you say?

“I find it difficult to understand why humans do not document as precisely. As you do.”

You glance at him briefly, then look back at the doors.

At this point everything feels like a daze.

Your personal log will be long today.

“I noticed you seemed uncomfortable in Ten Forward last evening,” he continues.

You nod silently. Words fail to describe your inner world at this point.

“Why was that?” he asks.

The turbolift doors open, and you let him step out first.

But now he wants to walk beside you — still waiting for an answer.

Your hands still feel dirty, so you rub one with the other.

“I don’t enjoy social settings,” you mutter.

Data nods thoughtfully.

“But do humans not crave interaction?”

“Others do,” you say, almost smiling out of nervousness.

“Do you consider yourself to be different?” He tilts his head. The PADD is clamped between his hand and his armpit — a position that might look natural if Commander Riker or Kelly did it, but with Data it looks oddly deliberate.

“No,” you say. You don’t want to be that kind of person — the one telling people they’re different.

Because everyone is different from the next person. To say you are different feels imprecise.

You mumble your way through that conclusion you’ve just reached in your head.

“Interesting. And you are correct,” Data muses, looking ahead.

“We have arrived,” he announces. He places a hand on the panel next to the lab door, and it slides open.

You let him enter first. Who knows who’s already inside?

The plants you gave him yesterday all stand on one table. A light above them keeps them warm.

“These are the plants,” he states.

You nod and take a look — first with your eyes, then with a tricorder. You scan each plant individually.

“They’re overwatered,” you diagnose, not looking at Data. You just stare at the three plants a moment longer.

“But how is that possible? My team promised they would water them every hour exactly.” Data furrows his brow.

“It isn’t the frequency — it’s the amount. These plants have been watered too much,” you explain.

You turn toward Data, but eye contact is another challenge. So instead, you focus on his badge.

He notices your stare and looks down at his chest.

“Is something there?” he asks.

Your face heats up again, and you avert your gaze to the plants.

“Do you think the plants can be saved?” he wonders, also looking at them.

You stand there side by side, staring at three little plants.

“I’m not sure. But I could try.”

“You would?”

“What?” You didn’t quite hear what your mouth just said.

“You would take care of those plants for me — for the division, I mean?”

You hear Keiko’s nice but concerned voice in your mind: You need a break.

Then you nod, still looking at your new plants.

Next Chapter

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[positronic-crisis]

Plants Don't Need You To Smile - Chapter 3 Intrusion

Data x Gender-Neutral Reader

First Chapter

You press your hands deeply into the moist soil and scoop out a good amount. Then you fill the pot with it — not too much, though, so the plant has enough space to grow roots. You are engrossed in your work and don’t notice what happens around you right now. You are almost alone in the arboretum. Only Keiko is scanning some small habitat and making sure everything is growing as it should. You would have done that as well, but she insisted that you do the gardening part of the job today and leave the rest to her.

Because she still thinks you need a break.

You pick up the still small but already impressively beautiful flower. You don’t wear gloves today. You want to feel every part of this. It calms you down. And you damn well need that after the evening you had.

When you look at the Sonara orchid you are currently planting into the pot, it all floods back to you — almost rolling over you in a rush of memories.

You see yourself again, sitting between Kelly and that Andorian whose name you cannot remember. Kelly is blabbering like a brook, telling you all about her day.

“Security sounds fun,” one person says, and Kelly slaps a hand on the table.

“Warriors don’t have fun, warriors fight,” she imitates Lieutenant Worf, her supervisor.

You bite your lip at that comment. What if somebody heard her? Maybe even the lieutenant himself.

The others, though, seem to enjoy Kelly’s presence.

And then comes the comment that brings you back into reality.

“I just can’t sometimes with Commander Data. I gave him my report on the last away mission and he asked me like a thousand questions about it. Apparently, we need to document everything — the temperature down to the degree, the wind, and every piece of unnecessary garbage you can think of.” The Andorian sighs.

You feel a pain in your chest. It’s like a little poke. Like a sharp finger pointing at you.

So, you take your glass of syntheholic beer and drink a couple of sips.

“And what did you do?”

Suddenly they are all looking at you.

“I was in the arboretum,” you state and try to smile at Kelly.

She frowns. “Wild,” she mumbles. “But what did you do?”

“I cared for the plant life and logged a couple of species. I also monitored—”

You get cut off by Kelly. She shakes her head and laughs a bit.

“No, no. What we mean is what gossip can you bring to the roundtable?”

You frown. The table is a square.

Oh. Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table — it’s an idiom.

“Gossip?”

“About your commanders or lieutenants, or really anyone,” Kelly clarifies.

You look into your glass of beer. Just a couple more sips and you have done your due diligence. You can go soon.

But right now, they are all still watching you like vultures.

“My commanding officer is Lieutenant Seral. I like him,” you mumble.

“He’s a Vulcan, right?” the Andorian asks, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Yes,” you reply, setting your glass down again.

“I hate working with Vulcans. They can be so… harsh,” she says, shaking her head in thought.

“You are harsh most of the time,” Kelly laughs at her — right into your ear. It rings.

“I like working with Vulcans,” you hear yourself say. Nobody else does, though…

The Sonara orchid isn’t quite in its blooming phase. When it is, you can hear the flower hum softly. When touching the red petals, one can even feel the vibration.

You have planted the small lady that you call Daphne in her new, bigger pot. She looks not quite right there — too dainty and small — but you know that soon she will grow bigger and fit right in.

Unlike you did yesterday.

Because after having to navigate through endless loud, somehow rude comments, the negative climax of the evening occurred.

Again, you feel as if you are back there. And in your mind, you never really left Ten Forward anyway.

A server comes to your table, bringing the group — you are four — more drinks. You remind yourself of your rule, your requirement:

One drink.

And by starting a new, second beer, you have already more than fulfilled that.

As the server puts down the four glasses — Earth pint glasses, you notice — you ask yourself if it would be considered rude to drink only half.

It’s replicated. It can go right back. It wouldn’t be wasteful, right?

But it would be rude, you muse.

Suddenly, your table falls quiet. And you only notice why when it’s too late.

Too late to flee or stop your physical reaction.

“Commander,” the Andorian greets him.

“Ensigns,” he greets back.

You look into your full glass — partly to drown out the noise and partly to hide your red cheeks behind the rim.

“I have noticed you sitting here. I am aware that you are off the clock, so to speak, but I wanted to inform you of the important meeting tomorrow afternoon. At 1500 hours.”

The Andorian nods. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Data.”

“You are welcome,” he replies gently.

After that, he stands there.

It’s still silent. So silent you could hear a self-sealing stembolt drop.

Kelly coughs awkwardly.

“Oh,” he then suddenly speaks up, “I am intruding on your private time. I apologize. I wish you a nice evening.” He nods courteously and turns around again.

As soon as he is out of earshot, Kelly starts giggling.

“Stop it!” the Andorian says. “He is my commander!”

“I know,” Kelly snorts. “Every day. You have to work with him every day.”

The Andorian sighs. “I honestly try to hear it as background noise.”

You bite the rim of your beer glass. Only now do you notice that you haven’t moved since he left.

You put the glass down again, sigh, and then muster the courage you need for this.

“What are you talking about exactly?”

Kelly and the Andorian look at you. The fourth member, another human, grins at them both. He hasn’t said much until now — he mostly laughs at Kelly’s jokes.

Now, though, he speaks up. “We mean that he’s weird.”

Weird.

The needle is back, poking your chest. This time there’s more than one.

They find him weird — you try to process the information.

“Why?” you ask. You try to sound casual, just asking some friends about something you don’t really care about. But really, you do care. A lot.

The smell of the soil brings you back into the present moment.

As you set Daphne over to her friends — other orchids and the like — you frown.

Just thinking about it makes you queasy. Sweaty.

They called him weird.

Him, of all people. A lieutenant commander. A unique being. Weird.

And what makes you even more nervous is thinking about what they might call you if he’s weird.

What are you? Plant person. That’s right. You’re still not sure if it’s a nickname or an insult.

But it is accurate, you muse, as you get started on the next orchid. This one is already in bloom. You listen to its sweet, low hum and close your eyes for a moment.

“Hello, Keiko,” you hear a voice then — bringing you back to life. Or rather, making you want to thrust yourself between the flowers you just replanted.

Just try being quiet, you tell yourself.

You are already crouched down, sitting on the ground cross-legged, as you like to do. Keiko has offered before to just put the pots on the table and plant everything there while standing, but you like sitting on the floor. Sometimes you even feel the warp core somewhere below you, pushing the ship through space.

You have settled on your plan: you will stay here, hidden, silently working and waiting until it’s over.

“I have a problem with the Auravines,” he starts off.

“Oh? What is it?” Keiko asks back — probably smiling, as she does.

“I am not sure. It seems they need less water. I told my team about the requirements of the plants, and they said they would follow the instructions your ensign gave me. But I believe they might not have.”

Your heart starts pounding a kilometer a minute as you feel the redness return to your cheeks. Maybe now you really can hide between the flower pots.

“Oh, you know how plants can be,” Keiko laughs softly.

“I do not,” he answers matter-of-factly. “I do know how some specific plant life can be. But with this one, I have no experience.”

“Right, right,” you are sure you hear Keiko nodding to herself.

It dawns on you then.

“I really am not the specialist when it comes to those plants. My colleague found them.”

Your eyes widen.

“Where can I find your colleague?” Data asks.

“I think you just have to go to the orchids over there,” Keiko says, probably pointing right at you.

Your hiding spot has been discovered.

Next Chapter

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[positronic-crisis]

Plants Don't Need You TO Smile - Chapter 2 Social Life

Data x Gender-Neutral Reader

First Chapter

On the screen in front of you appears a face you have only known from the news until now. His brow is furrowed, and when he seems to see you as well, he smiles charmingly.

“Hello, Ensign.”

“Commander, hello,” you reply, awkwardly. Your voice cracks, and you feel sweaty — even more than before.

“I looked at your paperwork. It all seems to be in order,” he begins. He coughs and looks down at a PADD, possibly.

You wait, eyes wide.

“This interview is just to get to know you as a person a little better,” he explains, now looking back up.

You nod.

Then silence.

“So,” he starts you off. “Tell me something about yourself.”

You hastily look around the room. What is there to tell about you? Or better: what is there to tell about you that Commander William Riker should know?

“I’m a botanist,” you whisper. “And… I guess I love caring for plants.”

He smiles again — this time more genuinely than before. “Yes, your work speaks for itself. I see you clocked a lot of extra hours at the Academy. You did a lot of independent study, and your paper on the flora of Andoria Prime is one of the best out there.” He chuckles.

“Thank you,” you say, mildly embarrassed to be praised by a Starfleet legend.

“But what I really want to know is who you are, Ensign. What made you become a botanist? What drew you to that particular field?”

The commander shifts in his chair and folds his large hands in front of him on the table. As far as you can tell, he is sitting in a conference room aboard the very ship — the ship you desperately want to be on.

“I like to… care for plants,” you stutter. Then you sigh. “I like to care for things. I like that there are clear rules. There are signs when plants need water. And there are signs when they need more sunlight. I’m good with rules, I think.” You shrug and try a smile.

Commander Riker still has a faint smile playing around his lips. He nods. “I get it.”

He does? You doubt that. Or maybe it’s just a turn of phrase you don’t understand. Again.

“In my free time I like to read about plants I don’t know yet. But what I really love is finding new flora — exploring it and writing papers on it.”

You notice your heartbeat quickening as you talk about the topic you truly love.

“My dream is to write a book about all the plants I discover.”

As you say it, you hear how vain it sounds. Why should you write a book, of all people? You’ve barely left Earth.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I know my work on the Enterprise will be different. And I’m just an ensign.” You laugh softly.

The commander shakes his head with a grin. “Here on the Enterprise, we appreciate new and fresh input. I like your enthusiasm and your love for the work. I can’t wait to meet you when you come aboard.”

“Thank you for your time, Commander,” you nod and smile back.

Thinking back on your interview, you sit on your bunk bed, mindlessly scrolling through your last logs. Again, you look at pictures of Narthea Prime. You remember finding Cory, Millie, and Hannah by a bubbling river deep in the woods, not far from your shuttle’s landing point.

“Plant person!” you hear a voice you now know too well. One of your bunkmates. You don’t know her name for sure, but you think it might start with a K.

She looks at you upside down, her hair partly falling in your face, making you scoot back on your bed.

Kelly — that’s her name, you remember now.

“Yes?” you ask.

“Do you want to come with us this evening after our shifts end? We’re going to Ten Forward for drinks.”

You don’t drink, and you don’t like sitting in Ten Forward.

But before answering no, as you always do when people invite you, you hesitate.

Keiko’s words float back into your consciousness:

You should take a break. Spend some time with other people. Maybe have a drink in Ten Forward.

You look at your upside-down colleague. She has her eyebrows raised, making her look like she has a weird little mustache. You almost snort, getting lost in that thought.

“I’ll come.”

She shakes her head, her hair moving, spreading the scent of floral shampoo around your bed area.

“Wow, I didn’t expect that.”

What is that supposed to mean?

Wait — wasn’t this a real invitation? Was she just asking out of politeness?

You feel the color leaving your face. You look down at your PADD again.

Plants, plants, plants. Let’s look at plants some more.

To your dismay, you lack the confidence to retract your yes to a night out. So, you leave the arboretum that day to meet people you don’t really know — and don’t have much in common with — in a place you don’t want to be.

You are, as always, wearing your Starfleet uniform. While others take theirs off a couple of times a week, you prefer to leave it on. You don’t want to seem lazy or unready for work. And the uniform is a look that binds you all together. You don’t need fashion sense for it.

And who’s to say when you’re supposed to change into casual wear anyway?

On your way to Ten Forward, you prepare yourself mentally. You are going to have one syntheholic beverage and then leave. That way, you can tell Keiko you took a break — that you technically spent time with other people. But you’ll still have enough time to regroup in your bunk bed and plan the next day.

“Ensign,” you suddenly hear a voice behind you. You wince and turn.

You see a woman you also know — from your first day and from the news.

“Are you going to the bar?” She smiles at you, walking beside you now.

“Yes, Counselor,” you nod.

She grins. “That’s great. Are you meeting your friends?”

Friends would be a stretch… “Yes,” you answer.

“That’s nice. It’s always a good way to end a shift in Ten Forward, isn’t it?” She glances at you.

You’re not stupid. You know why she’s doing this.

“I— I mean, I guess,” you mumble.

Her expression softens. “You know, my door is always open.”

It isn’t. You once wanted to talk, but she was on a mission. After that, you changed your mind back to the no, thank youattitude from before.

“Thank you,” you answer.

Before entering the bar, Deanna Troi turns to you, stopping you both in your tracks. “I know it can be hard. New people, new ship… I just want you to know that if you need any help adjusting, I’m here. I’m not just saying that. I mean it.” Her dark eyes seem to look right through you.

You like her — but right now, she’s standing too close. Physically and mentally. You can almost feel her empathic sense rummaging around in your mindscape.

You just nod, looking down.

Then you both enter Ten Forward. Not because you’re together — just awkwardly stepping into the place at the same time.

When you see him at the bar, your throat closes again.

“Data!” she greets him with a smile.

Where are those people who are supposed to be your friends now? You hastily look around the room.

You can’t see them. Maybe they aren’t here yet.

Oh heavenly gods…

“Counselor. Ensign.” He nods at both of you.

While Deanna Troi sits on one of the barstools, you just stand there, awkwardly looking around.

Then she whispers something to Commander Data.

“Ensign, how are you?”

This question of all questions. You never know what to say — especially when he is asking.

“I’m good, thank you. How are you?” you rattle through the standard response.

Is it stupid to ask the unfeeling android how he is? You realize only after the words leave your dry mouth.

He tilts his head slightly. “I suppose I am fine as well. Thank you.”

You nod and try to smile. Then you look around again. They have to be here somewhere. You’ve never wanted to see them so badly.

Then you feel a slap on your back. It’s Kelly — the loud one, as you call her. She has a laugh that rings through holodeck walls.

“Plant person!” she greets you jokingly. “You actually came. I’m glad.”

You’re embarrassed. You glance at the counselor and the commander at the bar. They exchange a look.

“Ensign, are you some kind of flora-based life form?” Commander Data raises a brow and looks at you with curiosity.

This honestly couldn’t get any worse.

“No, Commander,” you croak. “I’m a botanist. They call me that.”

“They,” Kelly laughs. “Come on now — there are beers to drink.”

Before you can even say goodbye, the other ensign drags you with her to one of the tables — at least far away from the bar.

Your pulse is pounding, your knees feel like jelly, and you’re pretty sure the color of your face resembles the redness of a Sonara orchid.

Next Chapter

Or read it on AO3:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[positronic-crisis]

Plants Don't Need You To Smile

Data x Gender-Neutral Reader

Status: Completed

Words: 77,943

Category: Explicit

Summary:

You’re a botanist on the Enterprise. You know how to care for foreign plants — but not for yourself. And you definitely can’t tell when you’re falling in love with an android.

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The Sequel "Plants Don't Need You To Pretend"

All My Stories About Data

[positronic-crisis]

Plants Don't Need You To Explain

Book 4

Seuel to "Plants Don't Need You To Change"

Data x Gender-Neutral Reader

Status: Completed

Words: 85,282

Category: Explicit

Summary:

You’re still dating an android. He’s still the second officer of the Enterprise. You’re still an ensign — and this is still supposed to work.

Turns out, relationships feel different when one of you brings random ensigns to the table, and the other brings the bridge crew. Power isn’t just about rank — it’s about space, visibility, and whose world you’re expected to step into.

Still unable to return to botany, you’re left to figure out who you are without the one thing that ever made things simple — and whether you can exist without constantly having to explain yourself.

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The Series on AO3