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You wake up to an empty bed.
You often do. Along with not requiring sleep, Data is second in command of the ship and one of the first people called whenever something starts to go wrong. You can’t begin to guess how many times before that you’ve reached your hand out, hopeful to brush your fingers against the still dormant form of your lover, only to encounter empty sheets. You’re not the only one on this ship who needs him, so you’ve made peace with the way that your heart sinks when he’s not there. It’s become… ordinary.
What’s not ordinary is the way that your quarters smell.
You sit up and stretch, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and leaning forward to peer around the wall that stretches out halfway between your living room and bedroom to separate them, just in time to see the flash of yellow of Data’s uniform as he moves around. You can’t help the smile that brightens your face as you realize that he’s still there, not already sequestered on the bridge, and you quickly roll out of bed and make your way over to the wall, half-hiding behind it as you peek out.
There’s food on the table. That’s what you’d been smelling. waffles, bacon, eggs styled three different ways, toast, sausage, and too many other foods to name, plus a pitcher of orange juice and a tall glass of chocolate milk. For half a second, you wonder if the two of you made breakfast plans with ten other people that you completely forgot about.
You don’t have much time to think through every conversation you’ve had this week, because he calls out to you, not at all oblivious to your spying. “Good morning, (Y/N).”
Busted.
You give up on your hiding place and pad over to where he’s bent over the table, adjusting a fork so that it’s perfectly straight beside an empty, gleaming plate. “Hey, Data. What’s all this?”
“I have made you breakfast,” Data adjusts a spoon, next. “I thought that we could dine together.”
“You mean “we” as in the two of us, right? We’re not expecting company?”
“I do not believe so. Unless, of course, you would not like to have your morning meal with me? In which case, I am sure that there are others aboard the ship would gladly join you. I know that Lieutenant Barclay is awake at this time and off-duty. As is Keiko O’Brian, David Thornton, Michelle Hall, Kevin -”
“Data, Data, Data…” You reach out to touch his shoulder and draw his gaze to you. He doesn’t look bothered by the miscommunication, but you know better than to assume that he isn’t. “That’s not what I meant. There’s just a lot of food here and you don’t eat, so I’m wondering how much you think humans consume in one sitting, because there’s no way that I can… what are you wearing?”
He’s not just dressed in his uniform, you realize. He’s got an apron on over it, the words “Kiss the Android” stitched neatly on the front of it.
“This is an apron, (Y/N),” He explains, patiently. “It is the necessary attire to wear while making your loved one a meal. Notice the phrase written the front of it. This is meant to convey both affection and good humour. Do you like it? Is it not humorous?”
“I love it,” you assure him, barely choking back a laugh. “I love all of this. The breakfast, the apron, you. It’s just unexpected.”
“Yes,” Data agrees, his lips pressing into a small frown. “I have been negligent in my attempts to court you. I had not realized how important the act of sharing a meal was until Ensign Davis confided in me that she had met with Lieutenant Edminster for breakfast for the first time. Their relationship began nine months, three weeks, two days, five hours, 45 minutes, and 30 seconds after our own, so it is apparent to me that I have missed an important marker in our time together. I did not know for certain what you would like, so I attempted to replicate several staples of human cuisine.”
You know you could tell him that not every relationship moves at the same pace, or that breakfast isn’t a huge deal to you, or even that comparison is the root of all self-imposed evil… but you don’t. There’s something so earnest in the way that he’s staring at you… and the gesture is so sweet… sometimes you’re honest with him about his misunderstandings with humanity. But sometimes? There’s no need to do anything at all but just appreciate everything he is.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Data smiles and pulls a chair out for you with his free hand, gesturing for you to take a seat.
“I am glad that you are pleased.”
“Very pleased… an I’d be even happier if you would let me convince you to wear that apron tonight.”
“That is within my range of capabilities.”
You smile mischievously, leaning forward with your elbows propped on the table and eye him with speculation. “What if I wanted you to ONLY wear the apron?”
Data blinks at that, processing your request for a moment… and then nods with certainty. “Yes, I can do that as well. Now, I will allocate you the necessary portions of daily nutrients that a human must consume and you may begin to tell me about your plans for the day.”
“Oh! Wait, Data. Not yet. There’s still one more thing we have to do.”
Data freezes in place, his gaze meeting yours as he waits for direction. And you crook your finger, beckoning him closer until you can grasp a fistful of his apron and pull him down to your height.
“I haven’t kissed the Android yet. Can’t start my day until I do. That’s the law of the apron.”
And you do kiss him… before he can start to tell you that is no such law on any known planet.