Christine was curled up with Spock on the bed in his quarters, amusing herself by planting kisses on whatever part of him she could reach. She had just worked her way up to his lips, his soft, perfect, kissable lips, when Spock's door chimed. Christine sighed heavily and ducked out of sight—they weren't advertising their relationship yet.

"Who is it?" Spock called, requiring only a moment to make himself presentable.

"McCoy."

"Enter." Spock moved to the outer sitting area. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

McCoy waited for the door to slide closed behind him. "I'm actually looking for Chapel."

Spock's jaw tightened imperceptibly. "What would bring you to look here, Doctor McCoy?"

McCoy just smirked. "Doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what's been going on. Have her report to sickbay on the double." He departed with a cheeky grin and mock salute.

Christine appeared in the doorway. "Don't worry, he'll be drinking decaf for the next week."