Work Text:
Most of Data's features look human. There are differences, however.
He catalogs them logically. He has no itches to scratch. He does not twist his ankle playing racquetball. He does not cut himself shaving.
These differences fascinate him, so he emulates. If he scratches, Geordi requests he run diagnostics. If he limps, Chief O'Brien asks if his servos have malfunctioned. If he "grows" a beard, there are questions.
His beard experiments were unsuccessful, but Commander Riker has no issues. Riker's hair is natural, however; to remove it, he must shave.
Forty-seven days ago, he asked to examine the commander's hair.
"That's an unusual request, Data." He frowned, then shrugged. "But sure, why not."
In his quarters, he let Data touch his beard to assess its qualities. He let him run his fingers through his hair to quantify its texture.
"Might I see the rest, Commander?"
Riker frowned, but he obliged. His uniform removed, Data touched his chest, shins, underarms, abdomen. Riker watched.
"How long does it take to grow, Commander?"
"I'm not shaving my beard to find out, Data." Riker chuckled, then his amusement faded. "I could shave my chest, I guess."
Data thanked him. He watched him shave.
Data has studied him for forty-seven days. He has observed barbershop trims and run fingertips over newly-shaved skin. He has blown air over his forearms to see his skin react. He has studied his eyelashes, and thicker bristles below his bottom lip.
"Do you have hair, Data?" Riker asks, naked in his quarters, day forty-eight.
"No."
"Show me."
Data undresses. He feels Riker's warm hands around his wrists. He feels Riker's beard against the crook of his smooth neck. The contrast is quite something.
Riker's mouth finds his. New information floods in.
Evidently, he thinks, he has new observations to make.