Permission (a Star Trek TNG Fanfiction)

Chapter 2

"Antics"

It was around 9:30 p.m when I rounded the corner to my room. Or, at least, my watch told me that it was 9:30. My head told me it was about 3:00 a.m, that I'd just been run over by a freight train and that I was little more than a side-eye away from just giving up on existence in general.

But, my head was often a major buzz-kill, so I went with my watch.

I'd been staring at the ground, trying desperately to be as unnoticeable as possible, taking steady steps that drew me round the corner to my quarters, when a voice called my name. I froze.

God Damn it.

I turned slowly, silently considering where the nearest window was and just how deadly a nose-dive into deep space would really be- When my eyes met yellow ones, and I realised that maybe I could settle for just slamming my head against a wall a few hundred times.

I guess Data just raises my spirits like that.

In the time it took for me to finish my 180° turn, Dats had caught up to me, stopping an almost exact (actually, I'd bet any amount of money that it was an exact) three feet away from me. He then greeted me with a polite nod.

Lt. Commander Data was an Android, but you wouldn't guess it by looking at him.

I mean, sure, he was paler than a ghost, with weirdly dark, always perfectly gelled-back hair, yellow eyes, insanely straight posture and-

Okay, so maybe he looked a little off. But, on a ship full of aliens he definitely wasn't the least-human thing I'd ever seen. Besides, if you got rid of the discolouration, super-strength, endless capacity for knowledge and reported lack of emotions- he was really just your average Starfleet Officer.

Just, you know... Shinier.

Say what you will, but Data was probably the closest thing I had to a friend on this glorified mop-bucket, so I'd learned to just ignore his mildly-concerning indestructibility, in favour of his more important qualities.

Like his poetry. And his cat.

That's friendship for you, folks.

"Data," I greeted, a weak smile on my face, "What can I do ya' for?"

His eyebrows furrowed, head quirking to the side.

The grin then met my eyes a little further. I knew exactly what he was going to ask, but I let him say it himself. Call it a little vindictive, sure; but I always found Data's confusion amusing.

"I don't believe I understand; 'What can I do you for'? Is that-" He began.

"Yes, Data. That would be an expression." I mused. Recognition hit his eyes, and I saw him begin to analyze the statement in his head. I then clarified,

"Just means 'What can I do for you'. It's pretty dumb. You just flip the words around. Makes it sound cooler- Or, uh," My eyes flicked up to the ceiling as I thought. "More socially-accepted." I looked at him again, "Less up-tight, you know?"

Data nodded, expression blooming in understanding.

"Yes, I recall you mentioning 'Cool' in the context of societal-adequacy." He paused,

"So, if I were to reply with a phrase that was not grammatically correct as well, would that be appropriate considering the circumstances of this conversation?"

A chuckle escaped my throat. I rubbed my face, giving my door a side-long glance and considered whether or not I was really  willing to continue playing verbal gymnastics with Data given the day I'd been having, but dismissed the thought entirely after a moment.

As simple as I might find the answer to his questions, I knew that Data struggled with social-nuances, and genuinely appreciated the replies I gave him. Furthermore, I had to admit, it felt pretty good to have someone be so enthralled with your words, regardless of how lame they seemed- Especially when it gave so many opportunities for hilarity.

So, I removed my attention away from the entrance to my room, and looked back to Data.

"Well, that depends," I said lightheartedly, leaning against the wall of the corridor with my side, "Slang in any casual exchange is almost always welcome." My pointer finger shot up, punctuating my next point, "But, if you mean switching the order of your next sentence, I'd say you shouldn't unless you want to seem ironic or condescending."

His face grew thoughtful at that, so I continued, "Or, you could make light of the phrasing in a humorous way" A wonky smirk formed on my face and my next two words came out drawn out. "For example," I tapped my chin in mock-consideration, my brows lifting upwards, "If I said 'What can I do ya' for', you could reply 'No less than a dollar'" My voice held a matter-of-fact sarcastic tone that I was almost entirely sure he wouldn't understand.

He, of course, didn't.

It took everything in me to stop myself from cracking up.

"I'm not sure I completely understand." He said.

I beamed. "Data, ol' buddy," I started. Then, folding my arms across my chest, I let the giggles bubbling in my chest break free, "I'm under the impression that you might just need to get laid."

If it was even possible, his face furrowed even further.

"How does my current sexual activity relate to what you are willing to 'do me for'?" My giggles grew to cackles at that, and I began using the wall as more of a support than a convenience, "And how is an adequate response to your inquiry one that relates to American currency?"

It took me a second, but I regained my composure enough to tell him "Ask Riker. I'm-" I stifled another laugh, "I'm sure he'd love to go more in depth with you about it."

He didn't seem completely satisfied with that response, but he let it go none-the-less.

"Noted." He said with a firm nod.

I nodded back, still smiling. Then I remembered that the point of this conversation wasn't actually to be tainting Data's innocence with dumb jokes, and I sobered up a bit.

"Sorry, Data, I didn't let you finish, did I?" I asked, "What was it you were here to talk about?"

Commander Data's eyes widened slightly as he seemed to recollect his thoughts.

Then, after little more than a moment, he told me what he was originally here to discuss...

And I suddenly felt like my original plan to take a quick plunge-on-out the closest porthole might not be too shabby after all.