My feline Valentine
Summary: Flash fluff for Valentine's Day. Sorry – this just bounced happily into my mind and I couldn't resist its big blue eyes…
Disclaimers: I have made no money from writing this story. I do not own anything connected with any of the Star Trek franchises, which all seem to belong to a complex combination of CBS, Viacom and Paramount. Neither do I own either Commander Data or Brent Spiner – if I did, you think I'd be wasting my time typing???
* * *
"Why Data! A red rose! Is that for me?" Deanna Troi's face lit up with unashamed pleasure.
"I regret it is not, Counsellor. I have just returned to my quarters, and found this on my pillow. I wondered if you could enlighten me as to its significance. It seems to be a most particular message of some kind."
"Well I'd say so, Data! You have a secret admirer!"
"A what?"
"A secret admirer!" Deanna led the nonplussed android, still clutching his flower, into her quarters. "It's an old custom – to leave an anonymous romantic gift for someone we love on Valentine's Day."
Data was silent for a few seconds as he processed the implications of her words, accessing the necessary memory banks on old Earth calendars, customs, and other strange delights. "Are you saying, Counsellor, that someone aboard this ship has romantic intentions towards me? Is that not rather unlikely?"
"I don't see why." Deanna pouted, as she often did when not seriously crossed. "You're a handsome man, Data – strong, virile, intelligent – and something of a mystery. Many people would find that extremely attractive."
Data considered this flattering description, raising his eyebrows a little, and giving his face a somewhat comical – and not at all intelligent – expression. "I have never thought of myself as a man of mystery, Counsellor. But, to return to my original question: now that I know what this flower signifies, how do I ascertain who left it?"
"That can be more difficult," Deanna replied. "Sometimes the sender doesn't want to be found out – sometimes it's just a gesture to say that someone cares for you. Sometimes she – or he – plants all sorts of little clues for you to find, if you're looking."
Data creased his brow. "It seems a most inefficient method of initiating a liaison," he said. "Why does this person not simply come to me and say they wish to indulge in intimate relations?"
"To which you would say…?"
"That I am an android, and do not… Ah, I see. But if that were to be my answer anyway, what is the point of this gift?"
"It's a bit of fun, that's all. And they might think the intrigue would change your mind." She began to sing. "Somebody loves me, I wonder who – I wonder who she could be?" She looked at him and grinned. "I'd just enjoy the sensation if I were you. If whoever it is wants you to know, you will."
"Counsellor," Data said suddenly, "it was not you, was it?"
Deanna laughed. "No, Data – it wasn't me. Leaving a rose on someone's pillow when you don't mean it wouldn't be very nice, now would it? Besides, my rose went on – "
"Commander Riker's pillow," finished Data.
Deanna blushed almost as red as Data's flower. "Shhh! You're not meant to know that!"
Data opened his mouth to tell her the whole ship knew that, but shut it again quickly. There were human rituals he would never understand, and this was clearly one of them. He sighed. "Thank you, Counsellor. I will return to my quarters and remain vigilant. In case my – benefactor – wishes to be discovered."
* * *
Data never did find out who left the rose for him. Indeed, after a while he almost forgot about it, although he was occasionally touched with a pang of regret at not knowing who might have thought him worthy of such a gesture.
Spot knew – Spot knew it all – but Spot had sworn herself to secrecy, and would never tell.