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One night, you decide to stop pretending. There's been so much pain, so much death, that you decide it's time to stop putting off happiness. You've watched friends die needlessly, unexpectedly, and no one knows who could be next. It might be you; it might be him, and you wonder if the security of silence now is worth never being able to say the words. Because one day, it could be too late. You wonder why you've stayed silent this long. Never voicing your feelings or doing anything remotely similar to making a move. Why? Because you were scared. Scared of being hurt. Scared that he wouldn't feel the same, or fuck, that he could even feel. Scared you'd make a jackass of yourself or fuck up the only true friendship you've ever had.
But is it really worth it? Is the promise of happiness better than the crippling fear of actually owning up to your feelings and doing something about them? Worst case scenario, he's repulsed by your advances and the friendship you've cherished for so long never recovers. But that's not him. He's never shown repulsion towards anything and is hands down the most forgiving person you've ever known. Hell, he's technically not even a person and he does a better job at it than most people on this damn ship. If only he could know just how amazed you are of him. Not about any of his technical aspects or his superhuman traits, you've looked past those for years now. But the real him. The person striving to be human. The person who always believes the best in others. The person who would give anything, even an impressive career, to help another. The person who is unafraid to do the right thing even when everything is standing in the way. That's the person you fell in love with. The person who never thought anything less of you because you were different.
And now, you wonder if you should tell him. Should you take the chance at happiness? Or will you continue moping around, only wishing for what you could have? Fuck it. This ends now.
You get out of bed and pull some clothes on, not caring what you look like. You're out the door before the shirt's fully on, but you ignore the looks from the people in the hallway. At this moment, you could care less. The turbolift doors open and you state your destination. His quarters. Your heart's racing and your thoughts run rampant, but you're intoxicated on determination and the possibilities of what lies ahead. The lift stops and the doors open.You walk through the barren hallway and you stop at his door.
"Enter," calls from within.
He's sitting at his desk, working. A puzzled look crosses his face as you move across the room. He asks if you are alright. Your dramatic display is hardly common.
"It's time for me to stop pretending," you say. "I've seen too many friends die, and I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you and I'd never got a chance to say anything." You pause, gathering your courage. "I'm in love with you."
He gets up from his desk and walks towards you. He looks down at you with a soft expression in his eyes. The gap between you was short. You see his chest rise and fall with each breath.
"I have felt differently towards you than I have for the other crew members. I have always assumed it was due to the close nature of our friendship, but I realized several months ago through my sessions with Counselor Troi that what I was feeling was more than close friendship. I believe that this feeling would accurately be described as love."
Without thinking, you lean forward and kiss him. The words you'd never thought he'd say. He loves you. You couldn't help yourself; it just felt like the right thing to do. He stands there awkwardly at first, taken aback by the abruptness of the kiss, but then you feel a hand at your back, drawing you closer. His lips move against your own, warm and gentle. God, why did you wait so long for this? Your arms wrap around him, pulling him close, and you just melt into the kiss. Your fingers tangle through his hair and you hear a slight moan. Fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing you've ever heard. You tug gently at the strands and he responds fervently, kissing back with a passion you'd never thought possible from a person so docile. You feel his tongue against your lips and then against your own, tangling and exploring. You break away to breathe, your breaths shaky and heart racing. He places small kisses along your jawline.
"How did you learn to kiss like that?" You ask. You knew he was amazing at most everything, but kissing was one thing you didn't expect.
He pulls away and looks at you, a small smile across his face. "I wrote a program after reviewing much of human literature and art forms, in the event that this might occur."
"Wait, Data, you wrote a kissing program just for me?"
"I had hoped you would find it pleasing."
"That was one of the best kisses I've ever experienced," you respond, grinning widely.
"Perhaps I can show you some of the other aspects of this program." If you didn't know any better, you'd say that was a sly grin.
"I would like that a lot."