Suddenly, the doors opened. Spock stepped in, a tray in his hands. Kirk froze, but Spock simply entered calmly, locking the door behind him. “I had calculated a 92.56 percent chance that you would continue to sleep until I returned. I should have known that you would refuse to behave predictably.”
Kirk was really not in the mood for logic. “What do you want?” he snapped crankily, rubbing his eyes. He was acutely aware of how he must look, standing in front of Spock in only his briefs and some serious bed head.
Spock set the tray down on the nearby table. Two bowls of fruit, and a plate of eggs, bacon and toast. Human food. “I believe there is an Earth custom that dictates that one is usually pleased to receive nourishment in the morning while still in their quarters. I was attempting to comply with this custom.”
“…You were bringing me breakfast in bed?”
“Affirmative.”
