This is a sequel to Let it Snow, and works better if you've read that first, but is quite good on its own too. So long as you can remember the pingu references if it was a long time since you read it, you should be fine.
A/N: Ok, wonderful people of the vast internet. I am very sorry for the extreme lateness of this. I was planning to get it out by pancake day, really, but a week before (I know, a little late, but oh well), when i sat down to write this, i found that my computer had gone kaput. Completely and utterly kaputted. And thus you have this, incredibly late but still a miracle that it managed to get put together at all.
Anyway, enjoy.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Honestly. Really.
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Pancakes
If there were any observers when Spock entered the mess hall that fateful February morning, they would have seen him roll his eyes, turn around, and walk straight back out again.
He was perfectly justified in this blatant display of exasperation (an emotion, as the captain and Dr McCoy would gleefully hasten to point out) by the fact that even Surak himself would have done so under these circumstances, and also the identity of the cause of all this mayhem as one James T. Kirk, aforementioned captain of the USS Enterprise.
Fortunately for the sanity ('What sanity?' a voice in his head that sounded strangely like a combination of said captain and doctor asked, but he pushed it to the back if his mind) of the ship, Spock and Kirk were the only two people in the area at the time, as everyone else on the alpha shift was still asleep.
He remembered the last time such an event had occurred – the only other time he could recall his captain ever getting out of bed before it was strictly necessary, but dismissed the thought, as the temperature appeared to be as normal, and everything else too, with the notable exception of the mess hall. Ah yes. The mess hall. There was definitely something strange and no doubt disastrous going on, but it was not the same, that much was clear.
However, there was unfortunately only one logical way to proceed, and so it was with great apprehension (the Vulcan would not admit to fear, or even trepidation) that he stepped tentatively unto the mess hall that was certainly living up to its name.
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As Spock entered the disaster area that slightly too much like the setting of a nightmare he had once had after being forced to watch 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' in an attempt to dissuade all young Vulcans from chocolate abuse for his liking, he took a deep breath.
He was then extremely thankful for his superior Vulcan reflexes, as they enabled him to duck and avoid the low-flying blob of …something… that threatened to ruin his perfectly-brushed hair. He finally straightened himself up again and began his original purpose in coming in.
"Captain? What are you doing?" he inquired, careful not to inject any emotion into his voice, except for possibly a hint of extreme sheer incredulous exasperation, which he should be used to by now, as this was James T. Kirk that he had been sharing a starship with for the past six months.
Said man now looked around, grinning, as usual. "Oh. Hi Spock. Happy pancake day!"
Spock looked slightly confused. "Happy pancake day? What is this 'Pancake day' to which you refer, and why should I be happy? Happiness is an emotion, and Vulcans believe emotions to be illogical and as such suppress them." The strangling incident was left unmentioned.
Jim groaned. This could take a lot of explaining. As could the mess, but he would get onto that later. "Well, Spock, you remember what I told you the time it snowed?"
"You told me many things that day. To what in particular were you referring?"
"About the penguins. And the pancakes."
"Ah yes. As I recall, you asked me to inform you when this 'Pancake day' was next approaching. As I did not know what it was, nor when it fell, I was unable to, however, judging by the fact that yesterday at 13:56 ship's time you began to jump up and down on your chair screaming 'It's pancake day tomorrow! It's pancake day tomorrow!', you did not require reminding."
"Hey, I was allowed to be excited. It was the day before pancake day." He began to take on a defensive tone.
"And that is why you are awake so uncharacteristically early today."
Jim nodded, relieved that the Vulcan had finally gotten the point.
"What I still do not understand, is why I am standing ankle-deep in... this." He gestured in a way that would have been angrily in a human at the gooey cream mixture several inches deep covering the entire floor, walls, and ceiling.
"Ah." This was going to be slightly harder to explain. "Well, umm...
you see, the reason it's called pancake day is because you make pancakes. And so I have been making pancakes."
"That still does explain why the entire mess hall is covered in this mixture."
"Engage logic. I have been making pancakes. The mess hall is now covered in pancake batter. Remember the Pingu scene with the pancakes, and my half of the igloo."
"Ah. You do realise that you can replicate pancakes directly, instead of making so much mess."
"Yes, but the flipping is most of the fun of them!"
"I assume that by flipping you mean dropping."
"Well, there is that, but..." If Spock had been human, by now he would
have been rolling his eyes at the illogicality of it all long ago, but as it was, he was only revealed to Kirk by a slight twitching of his left eyebrow. Fortunately, the human had a cunning plan in place for just such an eventuality. Well, not exactly, it was more a case of he had just thought of it, but it was a good one.
"No complaining until you have tried one," he proudly announced, and flipped the pancake he was currently trying to cook, catching it for the first time ever yet. The rest had landed on the floor, the ceiling, the walls, and nearly Spock, but not quite that fortunately. "What flavour do you want?"
"Ummm..." For probably the first and most likely the only time ever, the Vulcan was lost for words. Fortunately, Kirk was feeling in a particularly kind, compassionate, and sugar-high mood, and so did not leave the other man in such a situation for too long. That is not to say that he did not sit back and chuckle silently to himself for three minutes (Spock would know the exact time, of course, but he was not really bothered about irrelevant things like accuracy and decimal places) before enlightening him.
"Lemon and sugar or choclate are both quite good."
There was an audible sigh of relief, and his first officer was back to his normnal cool, calm, collected self once more. "Lemon and sugar please," he ordered, quite definite.
"As you wish," and a lemon and sugar pancake appeared in front of Spock, probably with far too much topping, but oh well. A slight sugar overload was always good for you. It was shortly followed by a distinctly overflowing chocolate pancake for Jim, and they sat and munched in silence, until one of the half-cooked pancake attempts fell from the ceiling onto Spock's head, at which the human laughed dementedly, getting slightly covered in batter himself as he rolled around on the floor (like a lemon).
Said Vulcan, on the other hand, did not see the humour quite so much, and so stalked off to go and wash his hair once more, to which the captain vehemently objected, namely by grabbing him and tackling him to the ground, at which the usually pristine, shiny-haired Vulcan became even more maddened.
Until, of course, another pancake fell from the ceiling, this time onto Kirk's face, which Spock thought was quite funny (not that he would ever admit to such an emotion of course), and at which he sat and pointed and laughed, in the process discovering that sitting, pointing and laughing was quite fun (once again, a thought that he would never repeat).
Unfortunately for his logical image, it was that moment that Dr McCoy chose to walk in, look around, roll his eyes, groan, and walk straight back out again, much the same initial reaction as Spock had had. The young captain did not appear to notice, as he instead picked up a plastic spork and began to poke Spock with it, which resulted in the offending utensil being confiscated, and them continuing to consume more pancakes until the doctor returned, this time armed with a full biohazard suit.
"Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not your personal babysitter! What are you doing now, and what have you done with the hobgoblin, and what did you replace him with, cause I like it." Spock looked up from his pancake, looking as adorable as a tribble that wasn't insanely reproducing and threatening to take over your ship, looking slightly confused.
"Nope. Definitely not the Vulcan we all know and hate. By this point, Spock was beginning to get slightly offended, but fortunately for the doctor, the captain decided to step in to defend the Vulcan's honour instead.
"Bones, that was very rude. Do you really think it's wise to aggravate a Vulcan who is three times stronger than you and on a sugar rush?"
"Oh, so that's what you've done to him," came his reply, not a hint of apology in his voice. "Of course we wouldn't get that much luck." Jim glared, while the Vulcan pouted of all things – not even an angry look or a threatening growl.
The human eventually sighed, and sat down, being inwardly thankful in advance for the acting skills that had gotten them out of many a tough situation. "Bones, you can take off your helmet, you do realise. It's only pancake mixture."
McCoy reluctantly agreed, Spock shifted slightly in his seat, and a large clump of batter landed on the unfortunate doctor's head.
"I hate you!" he glowered, once he had extricated himself from the mixture.
"Serves you right. You shouldn't be mean to Spocky. Only I'm allowed to do that," he said with a smug grin. Which was promptly wiped off by a blob of pancake mix scooped up from the floor which had been thrown at him by a very angry doctor. The Vulcan contented himself with taking another large bite out of his eighth pancake, happily oblivious to the pancake-mix fight going on around him.
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After having upon Spock's insistence cleaned up all the mess on the floor, the three men were now sitting on a table, enjoying yet more pancakes, all of which had been saved from the floor by the Vulcan, who was now sitting smugly while eating his fifth pancake since the reformation (they had all lost count as to how many they had had before), while the other two consumed their fourth ones.
The silence, which had lasted around 2.8 minutes (a personal record for Jim), was broken by said captain, who had finished his pancake, but could not cook another one as Bones was sitting on the frying pan (pancakes were very bad for your health, apparently, and he needed to look after his figure).
"I'll bet you the next pancake that when Chekov walks in, he's going to say 'Did you know that pancakes were a Russian inwention?'"
Dr McCoy considered his for a moment, weighing up the odds. This was Chekov, after all. Spock would probably know the exact likelihood, but there was no way that he was going to ask that green-blooded hobgoblin for help.
"I'll take it. He has to say those exact words within 30 seconds of entering the room."
"Done," Jim announced, and Spock pointedly ignore the complete and utter illogicalness of these humans he was surrounded with every day.
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Three minutes of contented pancake-munching later, Chekov entered the mess hall, to the greeting of a pancake thrown at his head by the doctor, which unlike it was intended to, did not prevent the Russian from saying:
"Oooooh! Pancakes! I love pancakes! Did you know that they are a Russian inwention?"
Kirk did a victory dance, while Spock carefully restrained himself from 'going hyper' (he was 97.8% sure that that was what Dr McCoy had called it when the captain had been exhibiting similar symptoms to what he was feeling a strange urge to do now – namely jump up and down, giggle insanely, and scream rather louder and higher than any self-respecting male should) over the fact that Chekov had just had a pancake thrown at his head.
"And, I believe I win," Jim finally announced, after finishing what looked like a strange combination of Irish dancing, the can-can, and swan lake. "Bones, pass me that frying pan."
"Actually, Captain, Mr Chekov did not say the exact words 'did you know that pancakes are a Russian inwention'. He instead said 'did you know that they are a Russian inwention'."
"But he clearly meant pancakes. It was almost right. Just one little word doesn't matter."
McCoy now felt the need to speak, and defend his rights to the next pancake. "Actually, the terms of the bet were the exact words only, and the thirty seconds are now up. And so, I believe I have won."
"Spo-ock," Jim moaned. "Why did you have to go and tell him that?"
Spock decided that this protestation merited no reply, and so ignored it, wondering why his captain insisted on acting like a petulant child so often. He was meant to be old enough to command a starship, wasn't he?
"I propose a way to settle this pointless argument. I shall have the next pancake, and then the captain can have the one after that, while Dr McCoy can consume the one which he threw at Ensign Chekov's head. You did win the bet, but you also tried to cheat."
At that point, the Vulcan found himself being tackled to the floor by two angry humans, but managed to shake them both off, and grab the frying pan, which he used to cook and flip a pancake while still running around the hall to avoid the two men chasing after him. He managed to eat the pancake while still running, in spite of the choking risk that the doctor kept reminding him about, and also cooked another one, but when the time to flip it came this time around, he did not catch it again, but instead stood back, and watched Chekov run in, catch it, and swallow it whole, squirting a good deal of lemon juice and tipping most of the remaining sugar in the pot into his mouth just for good measure afterwards. The fight between the three of them over who could have the frying pan next was eventually ended by Spock walking over from his comfortable seat in the corner, confiscating the offending implement, and telling them all to sit down and behave like good children. The captain obeyed at once, as did Chekov in a sheer reflex response, but McCoy took a little more convincing, and only settled down, still grumbling, after being threatened with a nerve pinch (apparently they gave you terrible headaches afterwards).
They sat in bored silence for 5.38 minutes, until Chekov loudly proclaimed "I have an Idea!"
"Does it by any chance involve the hobgoblin letting us stand up? My legs are going numb." McCoy's sour outlook on life did not appear to have improved.
"Da! We make pancakes for eweryone!"
There was a raised eyebrow from the doctor, except the other one ended up coming up as well, slightly lessening the effect, as Spock appeared to be the only person who could raise just the one. "There are 427 people on this ship, provided no more red-shirts have died since yesterday. How exactly do you propose to feed pancakes to all of them?"
"Well, Bones, half of them will be asleep, and I'm fairly sure we have more frying pans somewhere. We'll have to ask Cupcake. They make quite good weapons."
Eventually both the doctor and the Vulcan reluctantly agreed, and Jim went off in search of frying pans while Spock attempted to work out how to persuade the replicators to dish out pancake batter, and Bones and Chekov argued about where pancakes were inwented, followed by a heated debate on what kind of alcohol was best, that became even more violent when Scotty arrived bearing eighteen frying pans that he had been told by the captain to deliver, with no explanations as to why.
"Umm… Commander Spock, sir?" the engineer ventured. "Exciting and logical as I am sure your fight with Doctor McCoy over the sugar pot is, I don't suppose you could tell me what I'm supposed to do with all these frying pans?"
McCoy's face lit up, and Scotty was actually fairly sure that he saw a light-bulb appear above it for a few milliseconds. "Quick! Give one here! They're quite good for whacking people over the head with, and that would knock the hobgoblin out for long enough for me to use the sugar. My pancake is going cold!"
Spock glared, and the humans fell silent. "I believe the correct human phrase is 'Don't even think about it'. It would also be highly counterproductive and illogical, as I clearly logically require the sugar first, and it would additionally count as assaulting a superior officer.
That didn't seem to stop the doctor from trying (and failing) to wrest the sugar pot from the Vulcan's grasp, and so they were still locked in furious battle when entered once more one Mr James T. Kirk. Who had a similar response to the scene as Spock upon first entering the mess hall that morning, except with all the human emotions showing, and the walking out again replaced by rolling about on the floor like an insane sheep.
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Order was eventually only brought by the arrival of Uhura, who sternly berated them for their illogical, childish, and disruptive behaviour - there were pancakes all over the ceiling, and one of them had fallen on her perfectly styled hair, which she had washed, brushed, straightened and curled this morning, and did you have any idea how long she had been up getting her hair to look this good? "Although I doubt you would, Captain, as your hair is somehow perpetually un-brushed and looks terrible," she added as an afterthought.
Said Captain, however, was not alone in being otherwise occupied still laughing over aforementioned incident when the normally sane (probably the only one of them that could have that word accurately used to describe them without it being in conjunction with a negative, although the fact that she chose to live on a spaceship with them put that into debatable territory) Lieutenant could be seen to be running around screaming and flapping her arms about like a demented penguin with a pancake on its head (as the headless chicken metaphor is far too overused, and besides, Pingu references are much more fun).
The effects of her chastising were slightly lessened by the flecks of pancake batter still in her hair, but after some severe poking (perfectly manicured nails do have some uses other than being a good excuse whenever someone asks you to do anything) everyone was listening intently, although Kirk was admittedly also devoting a good deal of attention to attempting to untie himself from Spock, with minimal success. (Uhura's cunning plan was that the Vulcan would keep the human from being annoying and disruptive, and the human would hopefully stop the Vulcan from being too annoying and Vulcany. It was not really succeeding very well).
"So, you were intending to bake pancakes for the entire crew?" she eventually slowly repeated after listening to Chekov babbly on in a wery heawy Russian accent and at a ridiculously fast pace, not helped much by Scotty trying to translate it into intelligible Standard and instead turning it into incredibly loud Scottish, making even Kirk, who already knew what was supposed to be being said unable to understand.
"Yes." they replied, with the air of someone congratulating a small child on realising that the mud they have just been eating is the reason for the fact that they don't feel well, not the broccoli that they were forced to consume afterwards. Kirk recognised this tome of voice, as it had been repeatedly used on him in his childhood, usually followed by "So stop that this instant!" This time, however, the next words were slightly different.
"Well," she announced in a strangely enthusiastic voice, "We'd better get started then. It's only an hour until everyone sane starts arriving, and for some reason I highly doubt that the our beloved Captain is going to catch a particularly high percentage of his pancakes, judging by the mess earlier."
Kirk gave an affronted squeal. "How did you know it was me? What makes you assume it wasn't Spock dropping all of them?"
"Well, the fact that you were the only person in the room at the time was a slight dead giveaway. By the way, I thought that the very loud rendition on repeat of the Pingu theme tune was incredibly…" There was a dramatic pause, until she eventually settled on "… out of tune."
"Captain," Spock added, "While you have many talents, singing is not one of them, unless you are deliberately trying to do it badly. It would be greatly appreciated if you would stop taking a microphone hooked up to the ship's speakers system into the shower every morning, as it is not only highly annoying and unpleasant, but also noise pollution, and against ship's regulation code 10713.2."
"Oh," said Kirk, realisation slowly dawning upon him. "That's why you're always up so early! It has nothing to do with needing less sleep and wanting to work, does it?"
"On the contrary, Captain, while the fact that I am unfortunate enough to have my quarters situated next to yours is a contributing factor, there are many other logical reasons why I wish not to waste unnecessary time sleeping excessively." Left unmentioned was the fact that the closeness of their rooms involved sharing a bathroom, and the young Captain really did spend a long time in it, considering the state his hair came out in ('artistically styled', he clamed, but no one else could see any element of artisticness), as opposed to Spock, who could get his hair shiny and perfect in less than an hour, considerably faster that most Vulcans.
Kirk gave Spock a 'yeah right' glare, and Spock responded with a raised eyebrow clearly stating whatever the logical Vulcan version of 'o rly' was. Uhura broke off their non-verbal argument with a pancake to both of their heads (possible as they had still not successfully escaped being tied together, and both Kirk and Spock were really wishing that Starfleet regulations allowed them to carry a penknife)
"This is mutiny," he muttered darkly, but no one wanted to risk Uhura's wrath and untie him.
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"Captain, you shall be responsible for the washing up."
"WHAT!!!" he screamed indignantly. "But I'm the captain! I am awesome! I shouldn't be put in charge of washing up!"
She shook her head. "Oh no, there's no need to worry about that happening." Jim let out a sigh of relief. "I have no idea how you got this captaincy in the first place, but I certainly wouldn't put you in charge of anything. You shall be sub-washer-upper, under the charge of … Ensign Richards!"
"Which one?" he asked, gesturing wildly towards the two sisters who had just walked in, pulling each other's hair as usual. 'We look nothing like each other!' they would insist in unison, each taking a step away and giving each other identical strange looks. Admittedly, the shorter had blonde hair and blue eyes, while the elder's were quite decidedly brown and proud of it, but everyone seemed to get them confused, much to their annoyance, to the point of them both answering to most names, and almost everyone else referring to them as just Ensign Richards, thingimabob, or anything else random they managed to think of, with the noted exception of Spock, who made a point of avoiding Kat, the elder of the pair, ever since the incident of the crazed squeeing, a feat made difficult by her slightly fangirlish tendencies, and the fact that she worked in the science department, which he was head of, but one that he had succeeded in so far. Imogen, the short, blonde one, worked as a yeoman on the bridge, poking people and randomly talking about pot plants whenever the day got boring, but vehemently refused to wear a red shirt, as per uniform regulations, and instead had a blue one, as she didn't like the colour yellow. The captain allowed this, as no other yeoman provided him with a constant supply of lollipops, or ever joined him in throwing them at other members of the crew. She also seemed to keep Spock occupied with large quantities of grapes, and so all were happy.
"Both!" she happily proclaimed, and skipped off giggling to inform the two girls in a most uncharacteristic manner.
"But all they'll do is throw stuff at each other and me!" he tried to protest, but it was in vain, and fell of deaf screams, although there may have been an 'exactly' somewhere in that very high-pitched noise.
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5.82 minutes later, Bones, Sulu (who had turned up while sleep-walking and chasing zombies with his extendable sword at the same time, still dressed in multicoloured rabbit pyjamas*), Chekov and Uhura were flipping pancakes, Spock was catching the pancakes, and Scotty was stirring the chocolate sauce and also simultaneously attempting to invent a self-heated frying pan to do away with the inconvenience of having to keep it on the cooker the whole time.
Kirk had been untied, but was now standing sopping wet in the corner, in the middle of a washing up liquid fight, and glaring furiously at everyone else in the room, the effect of which was severely diluted by the pink fishy goggles he was wearing to protect himself from the soap, and all the bubbles in his hair ("At last! It is washed!" came Uhura's cry of rejoice, a sentiment echoed by Spock in some slightly more logical words, followed by some very human swearing when this distraction caused him to miss the latest pancake).
The doctor had initially complained that Kirk was probably allergic to the washing up liquid, but as he hadn't yet actually exploded, was keeping quiet to avoid also being assigned to washing up with the Ensign Richardses of doom,
A large proportion of the pancakes were being dropped, but enough were caught for them to stand a chance of having 427 of them ready within the next hour. Scotty and Spock had worked out how to keep them warm, and so there were large piles of pancakes dotted around the mess hall.
A recently cleaned plate hurtled around the room, and Kirk ducked, and glared at whichever one had thrown it. Both did their best innocent impression, and pointed at the other. The Vulcan held up his hand as the high-speed piece of plastic whistled past his ear, caught it, and handed it to Scotty with a pancake off the ceiling on it.
Shortly before the pancake that had been next to it also fell down, this time landing on his head. The pancake glared, as it was obscuring the face of its host, and swore loudly in Japanese. "THERE IS PANCAKE IN MY HAIR!" the Vulcan yelled (excessive use of exclamation marks is illogical, however, apparently capitalisation may be used for emphasis, although I believe this to be illogical. However, even if I am the authoress, there is no arguing with the Vulcan or he'll go and do something logical like sulk, so here goes), and was only silenced by a round ball of batter, the thrower of which was revealed by their being the only person in the room with pancake batter all over their hands at the time.
James T. Kirk also happened to be covered in flour, as the insanely hyper Ensigns (they had heard mention of the word pancakes, and had immediately come down, but not before grabbing lots of chocolate spread from the replicators, the majority of which they had consumed by the time they had reached the mess hall) had discovered that is stick very well to wet people.
They had also discovered the eggs, and a squeezy bottle of maple syrup, which made for delicious stickiness. And then there was the squirty cream… the squirty cream… well, suffice to say that with their combined effort and height they had managed to give the unfortunate young man a 3ft high squirty cream hair-do, a beard which came most of the way down his shirt, and a very elaborate curly moustache.
Admittedly, the two responsible for this were also covered in the stuff, as well as the mess hall, and everyone else in it, including Spock, but the captain had the most impressive collection. It was now only a matter of time before one of them discovered the food colouring…
*N.B. This was still not as bad as the time when the captain had ordered a 'come to work in your pyjamas day', and Spock revealed that he did not in fact own any pyjamas as they were supposedly illogical, and was forced to wear Kirk's pink sheep ones instead, complete with pink fluffy bunny rabbit slippers.
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Fortunately, in the opinion of all involved, with the exception of the two Ensigns, the food colouring remained safely undiscovered, hidden carefully in Uhura's pocket, just in case, as she did not trust anyone else with it. All was going well, until Scotty discovered a minor disaster. Well, major disaster.
"ARGH!" he yelled, while running around in a manner that did slightly resemble an insane seal (as chickens are far too overused). "It's gone! It's all gone!"
"What's gone?" There was then great panic throughout the entire mess hall, and Spock forgot to catch the latest pancake and it instead landed on the head of a very angry Ensign Richards (the short one).
"The chocolate sauce! It's all gone! PANIC!!!"
"PANIC!!!" the rest of the crew, with the exception of the Vulcan yelled in reply.
He instead had a slightly different response. "Ensign Tang, please come out from under the table this instant." The longest surviving red-shirt on the ship* glared, and crawled slowly out, licking the rest of the chocolate from her fingers as she emerged. "The same applies to you, Miss Demmar-Waters." One of the newest nurses in sickbay (who chose the job because she like poking people with needles) appeared grumpily, the mostly empty pan of chocolate sauce on her head, and the majority of the chocolate sauce all over her face, and everywhere else too.
*This fact was a slightly debatable one, as opinions varied on whether what she wore counted as a red shirt or not. It consisted of a red dress, and a red and white stripey long sleeved top and leggings, earning her the name of the Molly-Munchkin.
The crazed ensigns used the distraction of the missing chocolate sauce to have a pancake fight and lick out the pan, which had now cooled down distinctly more than when they had first tried to eat the chocolate (Nurse Demmar-Waters was currently listening to a rant from Dr McCoy about the dangerousness of cooking and the extreme stupidity of touching a hot pan, while forcibly holding her burnt finger under the tap and yelling something about the extreme thickness of everyone these days, the captain included). Spock, meanwhile, was replicating another pan of chocolate sauce, as he was the only one Uhura trusted not to eat it, although why that should be the case remains unknown.
"We hawe wictory!" Chekov proudly announced as he somehow managed to catch the 427th pancake (so far the Vulcan was the only one who had actually caught any somewhere other than their head). And that was just as the rest of the 427 crew members began to arrive.
Sulu and Scotty ended up being sent round on roller-skates taking orders as to who wanted what flavour pancake (everyone else had fallen over or failed entirely to stand up, and Spock refused to do something as illogical as attach wheels to his feet – it is highly illogical, dangerous, and illogical, as he hastened to point out, and tried to prevent Jim from even trying the skates on, as it would no doubt result in broken or at least sprained limbs), and found that they had then forgotten who wanted what flavour, as there were over 400 of them, and just told Chekov and Bones, who were in charge of dishing up the toppings to do so at random and hurl them into the expectant crew's midst. The doctor angrily pointed out the safety hazards of this, and they eventually agreed to deliver them by hand, although they were a little dubious about the relative dangers of mobs of pancake crazed Starfleet members (you had to be a little mad to voluntarily hurtle through space in a sardine tin).
In the end, nearly everyone ended up with the wrong flavour pancake, but all was happy as they managed to swap them around with the end result of everyone having eaten a pancake and liked it, even if it was the incorrect type. Scotty and Sulu were currently sitting in a corner panting, slightly exhausted from the high-speed roller-skating, and Spock was nibbling contentedly on a pancake once more. The four crazed ensigns were jumping up and down on the spot from all the sugar, and Kirk was making an elaborate sculpture of Spock with the enormous pile of sugar heaped over his pancake.
And so all were happily eating their pancakes, until one landed on Bones's head, who looked around for his attacker and eventually threw a glass of water at Jim, and thus began a full-scale mess-hall-wide food fight. And Spock hid under the table for the next hour to avoid the illogicality of it all, and continued contentedly munching his pancake.
THE END!
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At last! Sorry for the badly editedness, but it came together in tiny pieces and would drive me insane otherwise.
Reviews are love (if i can spell them), and fix broken computers, make new ones arrive faster, and convince Molly that you're all as mad as me and actually enjoying this rather than being mentally scarred.
Expect an Easter special involving chocolate-drunk!Spock, but not until, about... Christmas?