Spock strode into Sickbay. He looked around and asked Dr McCoy, whose back was turned, "Where is S'Lash?"

"Bed," repled McCoy shortly. He was totally absorbed in sorting some samples of what looked like human blood.

Spock stared at the doctor's back.

"In Sickbay?"

"No." McCoy was not really paying attention to the conversation.

Spock thought about that. How did McCoy know S'Lash was in bed, if he was not in one of the sickbay beds? "He is resting in his cabin?"

McCoy finally finished placing the samples he was monitoring into their appropriate cases and turned his attention fully to Spock. "No."

"Then, Doctor, how do you know…." Spock stared at McCoy.

McCoy stared at Spock and thought back over the conversation, and nearly made it to his lockable office before Spock pinned him gently to the wall beside the door. It was like being pinned to the wall by a very gentle spaceship wearing a blue science uniform and a thunderous expression. Although of course McCoy was imagining the expression. Outwardly, Spock's face was impassive. It was his body that was tense. Rocklike. McCoy looked up into Spock's eyes and flattened both his hands on the wall on the off chance he would have a chance to push off from the wall and escape the immoveable object that was staring intently at him.

To McCoy's surprise, Spock stared at his splayed hands and twisted his own arms to place his hands over them, shaping them to match McCoy's exactly; effectively covering McCoy's hands with his own.

Spock looked away from McCoy, but the doctor could feel that lean, hard body pressed precisely against him with sufficient force so that he could not move a millimetre. Spock spoke softly, staring at the wall behind McCoy. Danger danced in his words and chilled McCoy's spine. "Leonard, is S'Lash in the bunk in your cabin?"

McCoy should have answered Spock straight away, but there was something about the lean, hard body pressing so precisely against his own, the heat in the alien gaze, that made the doctor not want to answer. He realized belatedly that he was enjoying the pressure of Spock's hard body against his own, but even more, that he had elicited this heated response from Spock, however controlled it was. He took several deep breaths, then looked down at Spock's hands and asked, "What does that mean?"

"What?" asked Spock huskily. His breath was hot against McCoy's ear.

"The way you covered my hands like that."

Spock looked down. He shook his head but said nothing.

McCoy took pity on the Vulcan and said softly, "S'Lash came to my quarters early this morning because he was feeling ill and I was not answering my pager. I gave him some medication and he fell asleep in my bunk. When I realized he was sleeping I didn't have the muscle to move him to Sickbay and I decided not to disturb the interns to move him. He'll be out for hours."

McCoy felt the tension leave Spock's body, and Spock moved back a millimetre, releasing him.

Suddenly the pressure evaporated off McCoy's hands and the Vulcan spun on his heel and stalked out of Sickbay. McCoy frowned at his abrupt departure, but then, Vulcans were like that. He stared down at his hands and realized that Spock had evaded answering his question about what the gesture meant.

Jim Kirk loved the Observation Deck. His First Officer found him easily when he retreated there that evening, and walked catlike up behind him. Jim's arm was resting up over the back of the lounge, and his hand trailed across the backrest. Spock walked silently up and carefully placed a hand precisely over Jim's, covering it exactly.

"Hey." Jim looked up and smiled. Spock blinked at him.

"Shall we retire to your quarters, sir?" The Vulcan said quietly. He pressed a little harder on the hand he had covered with his own.

Jim noticed, and shot a questioning look at Spock, then looked pointedly at their hands.

Spock commented, "Surely you have read the entire manual by now, Jim."

"I have, but human memory is not as eidetic as Vulcan. I can't remember what it means."

Spock raised an eyebrow. He had sometimes considered what it would be like to be human in that regard, to never be able to rely on one's memory completely. Once Spock had read something it was available to him, permanently, indelibly. He suppressed a shudder and answered his captain, "It is an indication of ownership. A claim on your soul."

"Well, no doubt you have every right to use it then," smiled Jim. He rose, twisting his hand around to enmesh it in Spock's briefly, kissed Spock's hand and then led the way off the Observation Deck.

A few seconds later, a figure emerged from one of the privacy booths and walked slowly over to place a hand where Jim's had been on the back of the lounge. The privacy booths provided privacy to their occupants, having one-way glass preventing sound and light from leaving them to the main Observation Lounge… but not from entering them. Those in the booths could see and hear everything that went on in the common area, but nobody on the outside could see in.

McCoy whispered, "Ownership. A claim on your soul." He rubbed his hand and remembered Spock's refusal to explain the gesture earlier in Sickbay.

He stared at the stars, his mind racing with confused thoughts and his heart pounding. A half-smile crossed his face, but was replaced by a puzzled frown. Eventually a couple sauntered onto the Observation Deck and McCoy turned and left as though the presence of others stung him.