Work Text:
Sickbay was unusually quiet—no sprained ankles, no crew members sneezing from alien pollen. The Doctor was mid-sonata, humming to himself when the doors slid open with Borg-like efficiency.
Seven of Nine marched in like an oncoming diagnostic subroutine. “Doctor. I require assistance.”
He straightened, eyes lighting with theatrical concern. “Is it medical, emotional, or another crewmember asking you to explain the Borg hive mind again?”
She tilted her head, unfazed. “It is... interpersonal.”
“Oh-oh!” The Doctor beamed, already launching a love ballad playlist in the back of his matrix. “Do go on.”
“It concerns Commander Chakotay.”
Seven held up a PADD. “I have constructed a statement to communicate reciprocal interest. I seek approval before delivery.”
Intrigued, the Doctor gestured grandly. “By all means.”
She read in full seriousness: “‘Perhaps we might explore mutual connection through recreational intimacy. Insert part A into receptacle B.’”
The Doctor stared at her. Blinked. Once. Then twice.
“Seven,” he said, carefully, “did you just proposition the First Officer using a schematic from a starship maintenance manual?”
She frowned. “It conveys intent with clarity.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to mate a Jefferies tube with a warp coupling.”
She blinked. “That is a stable connection.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “When you said ‘recreational intimacy,’ did you mean dinner and gentle conversation or... actual recreational intimacy?”
“I am unclear. My research showed both interpretations are acceptable courtship protocols. I included margin for ambiguity.”
“That’s not a margin—it’s a transporter accident waiting to happen.”
Seven looked down at her PADD, adjusting the phrasing with a swipe. “Would ‘Insert part A approximately into receptacle B’ be preferable?”
The Doctor walked away, muttering to himself. “Why do these conversations always involve mechanical terminology."