Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Data's internal clock was without a flaw, meticulously programmed to keep time down to the nanosecond. Because of the exceptional speed at which he could process information, he could quite literally feel as each second passed. His memory banks were vast in their capacity to store information, any byte of which Data could recall almost instantaneously. These facts of his programming, clear advantages which enhanced his performance in countless ways, served inarguably to the benefit of his station and his crew. For this, Data was content; he had no reason to edit any of these functions beyond minor improvements in their accuracy, whenever applicable. There was an aspect of his efficiency, however, which Data found alienated him from his human comrades. As he understood it, the human mind experienced time and memory in a more fluid, less mechanical way. Their perception of time was subject to waver and warp based on a nearly unpredictable number of different factors: their surroundings, the temperature, and even the time of year as it was on Earth seemed to affect Data's crewmates, even as they were lightyears away and drifting through the vast emptiness of space.

It was this characteristic of humanity that Data first considered as the doors to Ten-Forward slid open and presented him with a significantly different atmosphere than was typical of the ship's only bar. His eyes scan the room with rapid precision, taking in information and filing it away. Nearly every table was occupied by two or more people, civilians and crew members alike, the vast majority of whom were human. The scent of apples, cinnamon, and clove wafted from steaming mugs which were sat on coasters or held as the people's chatting and laughter spread a buzzing excitement through the warm air. Through the spiced smell of cider, an astringent note of pine emanated from behind the bar where there stood a small coniferous tree. A number of multicolored glass spheres were hung from its branches, which themselves had been wrapped in strings of tiny white lights.

Finally, Data's eyes landed upon Guinan, who was already looking his way expectantly, her signature enigmatic smile shining beneath the shadow of her wide-brimmed hat. He approached the bar and returned her smile with a polite nod.

"Guinan," he greeted her.

She beamed as once more he scanned the room. "Evening, Data. What does our resident expert in the humanities think of my decorations?" She quirked an eyebrow slyly, adding, "It's not too much, is it?"

"It is colorful," Data said obviously, to which Guinan huffed a low, fond chuckle.

"It sure is, huh?" she replied, turning away for a moment as she removed a dark green ceramic mug from the shelf behind the bar and filled it with hot water, which she swirled around inside the cup before discarding into the sink. "I thought I'd bring a little holiday cheer to my patrons this year. I've always liked Christmas."

Data watched intently as she poured an amber-colored drink into the newly-warmed mug and pushed it toward him. "Apple cider," Guinan explained, though he had already gathered as much. "I have some spiced liquor under the bar, if you want something with a little kick," she offered with an ironic wink of her eye; they both knew Data could not experience the joys—or the drawbacks—of alcohol intoxication. Behind him, somebody who evidently could laughed loudly and Guinan rolled her eyes, though the pleasant smile did not fade from her lips.

Data lifted the mug of cider to his lips and drew in air through his nose and into his synthetic lungs to consider the scent before taking a sip. His palate—accurate despite its superfluity, considering he did not need to eat or drink—quickly identified each component of the beverage as it washed warmly over his taste receptors: allspice, nutmeg, clove, and cinnamon blended well with the tart apple juice which composed the majority of the liquid. Data attributed the slightly burnt flavor to molasses from the inclusion of brown sugar as sweetener, and as he swallowed, a hint of vanilla lingered in the back of his nostrils. "Is this your own recipe?" he asked.

Guinan grinned proudly, inclining her head upward in the way that so many humanoids did when they felt confident. "It sure is," she confirmed. "I developed it after the year I spent Christmas on Earth around, oh, three hundred years ago. To me, Christmas means hot apple cider." She paused briefly, a sly gleam briefly shining in her eyes. "What does Christmas mean to you, Data?"

Data tilted his head, and she quirked an eyebrow expectantly. He brought up information on the holiday from his memory banks and began to relay it aloud. "Christmas. An annual festival commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ, who was believed by many to be the Messiah prophesized in the Jewish Tanakh. Popular customs of celebration include the giving and receiving of gifts; the display of various related decorations; the consumption of a special meal—"

"Yes, Data, that's correct," Guinan interrupted him, laughter bubbling in the timbre of her voice. "That's the definition of Christmas, sure. But I want to know what it means to you."

Data did not understand the distinction, and expressed to her as much. "Well," she began, "lots of people of all different species have holidays that they celebrate. These holidays hold special meaning that is unique to every individual based on their upbringing, their culture, their memories, you know." He nodded, rolling the concept around in his mind.

Guinan drew his attention back to her by slamming her palms down on the bar. He met her gaze and found her eyes burning brightly. "Why don't you ask your friends what the holidays mean to them? It might help you understand what I'm talking about. And hey, you might learn something new about yourself while you're at it." With her speech ending on a note of finality, Guinan nodded once more at Data before turning and walking to the corner of the bar to attend to her other merry patrons. The good bartender's sagacity ignited what Data imagined to be his closest equivalent to passion: the inherent need built into his programming to collect as much information as possible. If there were a warm, fuzzy feeling to accompany the thought of spending time with his friends, it could be attributed to his internal processing systems, and nothing more.

Chapter Text

Data began the first phase of his study in the same place where it was suggested to him: Ten-Forward. It was just as busy as the last time he was there, despite being just after 1400 hours, and as he stepped into the room, he anticipated the exuberant atmosphere that greeted him. Just as busy, Data noted with intrigue, but occupied by a different group of patrons. As expected, humans comprised the majority of the mid-afternoon's guests, laughing and conversing and smiling in that way that other races found unsettling: baring their teeth and throwing their heads back in a manner which was almost universally considered a threat, but to humans represented an unbridled expression of joy. No one, as far as Data had observed since his activation, embodied this quintessentially human characteristic in as inviting and as pleasant a way than one officer in particular, whose solid stature was easily identified among the bar's many patrons. As Data drew close, Commander Riker turned towards him and grinned. The width of his smile forced his rosy cheeks upward toward his eyes, which pressed slightly closed so that crows-feet were prominent in the corners of his bright eyes.

"Data!" 

The call erupted from him in a resonant, cheery boom which Data might have found odd coming from anyone else; they were not especially far apart in terms of physical distance, but Data knew his commander well enough to know that his passion was often expressed through raised voice.

Data responded with a polite acknowledgement: "Commander."

To his confusion, Commander Riker shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, posture relaxed and open and face warm and inviting. 

"We're off duty, Data. You can call me Will."

"Will," Data amended, maintaining the same respectful tone with which he had previously addressed his superior. Evidently, something about this exchange amused Riker, who simply laughed and made a sweeping gesture with an arm as an invitation for Data to join him. Data complied, taking a seat at the bar to his commander's right. Riker took his glass in hand and swirled what was left of his drink around in his glass: a wedge of citrus fruit, a stick of cinnamon, and several small cubes of ice sat forgotten in an ounce of diluted orange liquid. He inclined his head towards the colorful lights along the back of the bar and sighed gently.

"What do you make of all this Christmas business, Data?" he asked casually.

Data tilted his head, blinking. "I am not sure. That is what I intended to ask you, Commander. Will."

Riker chuckled and took a sip from his glass, grimacing at the overpowering flavor of the end of his drink. "Well," he started, and his eyes, though looking forward, did not appear to be focused on anything in particular, instead giving the impression of gazing at something far-off in the way so many humans did when searching their memories. It was a manner foreign to Data, who could recall any file containing the relevant information in a matter of nanoseconds; humans' memories were interwoven with sights and sounds and smells and emotions, each memory representing not the experience as it was when it occurred but rather as it had been previously recalled. "My mother died when I was two, and my father was hardly around," an unreadable look passed over Riker's features briefly before morphing once more into a polite smile, "so the holidays were never really a big deal for me."

Data opened and closed his mouth as he attempted to formulate an appropriate response to remedy a situation which he may have made uncomfortable. "I apologize if I have caused you to recall unpleasant memories," he said, widening his eyes and casting his gaze downward in a way he had observed in apologies between humans.

Riker surprised him again by huffing out a weak laugh and shaking his head. "It's alright, Data." A pause fell between them, and Data was unsure whether it was comfortable or awkward. "When I was a kid, I always wished for a family celebration, or at least a family to celebrate with. Then one year I spent the holiday break from boarding school with a friend's family, and I'd never seen anything like it," Riker admitted. "And it was nothing like how I'd expected Christmas to be."

"It was not?" Data asked. 

"Not even close. I had imagined, I don't know..." Riker chuckled in spite of himself. "A big family gathering, and singing, and colorful gifts under a tree. But my friend's father woke us up at the crack of dawn and told us to bundle up, 'cause we were going fishing." His voice took on a gruffness as he spoke those last words, which Data understood to be a mock impression of his friend's father.

While Riker laughed at the memory, Data found himself perplexed. "I have not observed many mentions of fishing in my studies of Christmas," he said.

"Ice fishing," Riker corrected him, and then fell quiet as a thoughtful smile spread over his face. "Data, why don't you come to the holodeck with me so you can see what it was like?" Without waiting for an answer, Riker stood up, using his hands to push against the bar as he rose. His eyes were shining once more, no longer harboring the subdued look they had taken when he spoke about his father. This was something Data could understand, at least: a complicated relationship with one's father. But Riker strode out of the room like a man on a mission, and with a wink from Guinan, Data followed suit.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2, Part 2 - Snow Suit (Riker)

As he took quicker steps to catch up with Riker, Riker stopped abruptly. Data stopped too, and waited for Riker to explain.

"We can stop by my quarters first. I think I might still have something we could wear. Wouldn't want you to get cold," he teased, chuckling at his own joke.

"I must remind you that my body is capable of functioning at full capacity in subzero temperatures," he said, but followed along anyway. When they got to Riker's quarters, Riker ushered him in and made a beeline for his closet. He muttered to himself as he pushed through uniforms and dress shirts on hangers until he reached far into the back and made a triumphant exclamation. Data leaned forward to better see and Riker proudly presented a garment which Data's internal information bank easily identified.

"It is a snow suit," Data began, stepping closer to inspect the material. It has an outer layer made of waterproof fabric with an inner lining composed of nylon and polyester. There is a layer of insulation; most likely synthetic fiber as opposed to any sort of animal product.

"It is a snow suit!" Riker confirmed, peeking inside the back at the tag. "And I think it'll fit." Data nodded at Riker's sensibility, measuring the snowsuit with his eyes. While it may have fit him in the past, it looked too small for Riker's broad chest and dense torso, for his muscled thighs and biceps.

"Commander," Data began, before correcting himself, "Will, I do not intend to imply anything about your physical stature. However, I find it important to inform you that you are mistaken. This snow suit will not fit you."

Riker's grin didn't falter, instead it colored with an emotion that Data would recognize in hindsight as mischief. "Who said anything about it fitting me?" He thrust the snowsuit into Data's hands. "I meant, my Android friend, that it looks like it'll fit you!" Riker gave a hearty laugh, presumably at the expression of confusion on Data's face as he processed the information, and turned back into his closet where he pulled out a tacky sweater that was obviously well-loved, as evident by the fraying threads and lightly faded colors. As if reading Data's mind, he added, "Don't worry about me. I grew up in the real cold; the holodeck's tropical compared to what I'm used to." Data nodded in assent, and the two men got dressed (prompting more laughter from Riker as he compared Data to an "abominable snowman"). Then they left Riker's quarters and headed for the holodeck.

Chapter 2, Part 3 - The Holodeck (Riker)

When they arrive at the holodeck, Riker calls up a program that he has evidently used before. Inside, the setting is like this:

A wide expanse of clear-translucent ice as far as the eye can see and beyond the horizon in all directions. In the distance, snow-peaked mountains of white and gray and brown color the horizon, punctuated by tufts of deep-green conifers. Not far from the holodeck entrance, which quickly shimmers and vanishes behind them, lies a medium-large box with tools sitting around and inside it. A well-worn chisel and a rubber mallet; a thin fishing rod tipped with a colorful cluster of faux worms; a long piece of wood, likely having come from a tree branch, meticulously fashioned by hand into a spear; a large plastic bucket whose lettering had been rendered nearly illegible by time and use. There's a cold, dry wind that blows over the ice and causes it to pick up ice particles that swirl and sparkle over the flat expanse.

Riker let out a performative little shudder accompanied by a verbal "b-r-r-r!", but showed little sign of actually feeling cold. Data calculated that the temperature in the holodeck stood at just above freezing. Despite the natural insulation provided by his large stature and healthy distribution of body fat (which Data had heard, on more than one occasion, was one of Riker's particularly attractive attributes–and Data himself would not dispute that), Data had anticipated that Riker would be uncomfortably cold in his current attire. To his surprise, however, he appeared to be comfortable: his nose and cheeks took on a dusting of red, and his breath came in steamy puffs, but there was a smile on his face and a confident relaxation in his posture that indicated that this was a familiar and comfortable situation for him. With another smile directed towards Data, Riker knelt by his tackle box and busied himself with bait and tools that Data was content to observe and record for his internal database. The wind prickled against synthetic skin as Riker inclined his head to look up at Data. In his hands, he held the chisel and mallet.

"First, you have to break into the ice." He began to do so, pieces of ice flying from the chisel as he began the shape of a circle with practiced precision and steady hands. "Well, normally, you'd have to walk for a while and look through the ice to find where the fish are." He huffed out a chuckle that puffed steamy past his dry lips. "But this is a holodeck program, so there are gonna be fish wherever we dig." He made a triumphant hiss as the circle of ice he had cut out was finished, and he pushed it through with the flat of his palm, exposing the deep blue water of indeterminate depth that lay underneath. "Look at that, Data. See the fish down there?"

Data could see from where he was standing, but Riker was on his hands and knees, so Data knelt and joined him, leaning over the opening and peering inside. Schools of fish, large and small, were visible far deeper than Data had expected to be able to see; another feature of the holodeck, most likely.

[timeskip]

By the time they were finished, the plastic bucket was full of shimmering fish. Riker was practically glowing with joy, his hair mussed by the wind and the cold shining on his cheeks and nose. They had made pleasant conversation and Riker had taught Data the techniques he had learned all those years ago.

"Will," Data began, and found that the name came naturally. Will grinned at him, mirth sparkling friendly in his eyes.

"Yeah, Data?"

"You did not finish telling me your story. What did you do, after you went ice fishing with your friend?"

Riker's grin softened into a fond smile. "I didn't finish telling you, did I?" He chuckled. "Well, after we had caught our fish, the sun was finally starting to come up," he gestured to the horizon, which was colored in pink and gold and blue and orange. "His dad cleaned the fish, we took 'em home, and had a huge meal." Riker suddenly looked sheepish. "I'm not sure I've got time to make a big feast, though. Sorry, Data."

Before Data could remind Riker that he did not need to eat, Riker beamed at him again. "But we could go grab dinner, if you're amenable."

Data smiled. "I would like that very much, Will."

Chapter 3 - Family (Beverly and Wesley Crusher)

The holidays, as Data was beginning to understand, were a time where family was especially significant. While he knew of many families aboard the Enterprise, there was one family in particular he had in mind.

"Data!" As the sickbay doors whooshed closed behind him, Dr. Beverly Crusher welcomed him in with a warm but professional smile. "What brings you here? Don't tell me you're feeling under the weather," she teased with no real accusation in her tone.

"Doctor, may I remind you that as an android, I can not become 'under the weather'," Data replied, fully expecting Dr. Crusher's response of an exasperated chuckle and a shake of the head.

"I hadn't forgotten, don't worry. Sit down, I was just about to take my break." She gestured to a chair in her office and made her way over to the replicator, chewing her lip in thought. She placed an order for spiced apple cider, and it appeared in a steaming mug which she took with a deep exhale.

"I have not observed you ordering apple cider before," Data says. "I understand that this is a drink that is primarily enjoyed during cold weather. However, the temperature in your office is the same as always."

Crusher takes a sip of her drink and hums in delight, a smile playing across her lips. "Well, 'tis the season," she offers as explanation, before shaking her head fondly at Data's perplexed expression.

"That is what I came to discuss with you," Data says. "I am curious about what families do during the holidays."

"Oh, Data! You should have said so!" Suddenly energized, Dr. Crusher sets her drink aside and stands back up, calling to the computer: "Computer, display photo album 'Christmas 2352' on my personal screen."

Chapter 4 - Hanukkah (Worf)

As the ship rumbled quietly forward through a vast, empty stretch of space, many of her bridge crew said goodbye for the night and retired to their quarters. The remaining skeleton crew consisted, Data noted, of people with whom he was not well acquainted; and people whom he had not observed celebrating the upcoming holiday about which so many of the human crew were excited. A stern-looking Bajoran woman controlled the helm, with a timid Bolian sitting to her left, casting nervous glances over his shoulder when she appeared not to be looking. What Data had not expected was to see a Vulcan with a sturdy yet elegant built approach Lieutenant Worf and relieve him of duty with but a few words and a sharp nod of the head passing between them. "And may your holiday be well," the Vulcan finished, to which Worf responded with a gruff "thank you."

"Lieutenant," Data began, falling into step at the Klingon's side. Immediately, he stood to attention.

"Yes, Commander?"

"I am also off-duty for the night. Might I make a personal inquiry?"

Worf did not shift his feet or avert his eyes, but he did suddenly look uncomfortable, or perhaps bashful–Data was not able to read his facial expressions as well as he could read his human crewmates'; despite his best efforts toward maintaining a general stoicism, however, Worf was concerningly emotive. Data briefly considered whether it would be inappropriate to ask, but he knew Worf to be a man of utmost integrity and honesty to a degree nearly parallel to his own bluntness.

Despite his apparent discomfort, Worf responded in the affirmative, "Certainly, Commander. What is it you wish to know?"

"I have been studying the various ways that our crew is participating in their respective holiday traditions," Data explained. "There is a Klingon festival to take place on the Winter solstice; do you intend to celebrate it?"

Worf was silent for a long time, his eyes locked on the communicator pinned to Data's chest. He cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "No, I do not." For a moment longer, the two stood unspeaking in the corridor. When Worf did not elaborate, Data perceived it best to leave this matter alone.

"I understand," he said with a nod. "Thank you. Goodnight, Lieutenant."

As he made to walk away, Worf spoke again, quickly this time: "There is...I do celebrate a holiday. At this time of year," he added. "You may observe the holiday with me. For your studies." He met Data's gaze once more, his eyes solid in their resolve.

Were he human, Data might have felt a spark of delight at this. "Thank you," he said genuinely. "I would be honored."