Welcome back, I hope you still like it! And thank you for the kind reviews so far. McCoy is in the wrong place at the wrong time (though I don't know if he'd agree), and Chris and Spock get down to business. This is the T-rated one, just to be on the safe side. But nothing graphic!

At the same time, some distance away, Leonard McCoy turned a corner and froze in his steps. There was no denying what, or who, he saw at the far end of the pathway, right beneath the cherry tree. He promptly turned on his heel and left the arboretum.

Outside, he leaned against the wall. Spock. And Chris Chapel. Kissing. They hadn't seemed to notice him, but he had seen enough to know he wasn't imagining things. They had been kissing.

What on earth had happened that the two of them were behaving like that all of a sudden? Had he missed something?

Perhaps he had. After all, it wasn't his concern what they did in their free time, although he briefly considered testing the two for alien influences. But maybe that was doing them a disservice. Maybe they had become closer. And if they had, it was none of his business.

It surely was a nice example of 'private exploration' and doing 'this and that'. A smirk spread over his face as he imagined confronting Chris in the morning. This was a private matter and he would not tell anybody else, but he would seize the opportunity for some friendly teasing.

When Spock and Christine walked to her cabin, she took his hand. The hallways were empty and he seemed in a good mood.

"If you want, you can stay the night," she said as they approached the officers' quarters.

"Very well, I will be back in a moment," he said, and they separated at her door so that he could go on to his cabin and fetch his pyjamas.

Christine did not have to wait long for his return. She had used the time to slip into her sleepwear and Spock came back less than two minutes after that, his pyjamas under his arm.

Of course, it would have been practical to put them on in his quarters and walk the short distance already wearing them, but roaming the hallways in such an indecent fashion was decidedly beneath the second-in-command.

Sitting on her bed, Christine stretched out her arm towards him, motioning for him to take her hand. She pulled him closer until he was standing in front of her.

"Thanks for the nice day," she murmured as she clasped his hand.

"What is your verdict?" he asked huskily.

"My verdict?" She rolled her eyes at him. "My answer is yes. I want this, I want you. I want us." She caressed his fingers to give her words emphasis.

Spock pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear and she leant into his touch.

"You know, I think a part of me always felt like there was something special," she murmured. "Well, lately at any rate. I've felt so very happy in your presence, but it had become so normal that I did not think about the cause. Oh, I know I sound sentimental, but it just feels so good, being with you!" She stared up at Spock, who seemed too busy to answer. "Spock, are you alright? What are you doing?"

From tucking her hair away, he had moved his fingers down the side of her face and throat, softly caressing her collarbones, and his hand had already dipped below the hem of her top a couple of times.

She shivered involuntarily.

"I believe I am trying to seduce you," he murmured. His other hand was still in hers and he let his fingertips wander over her palm, along the length of her fingers in the traditional Vulcan gesture.

Christine shuddered again as a tingling feeling spread to her from his Vulcan nerve endings.

"Are you now?" she whispered. "You surprise me."

"Is it not working?" he asked, opening the first buttons of her pyjamas.

"You know it is."

She pushed her hands under his tunic, and he slipped it off in one fluid motion. She let her eyes and hands roam over his torso and he opened the remaining buttons of her pyjama top.

"I have never seen you naked," he whispered, taking in what the open garment scarcely concealed.

"True, but I doubt the old uniforms left much to be imagined," Christine said and ran her hand along the length of one pointy ear.

Spock shuddered, barely managing to shoot her a scandalised look.

"Come on," she teased, "I know that even you were looking at my legs. Or my collarbones. Or my b…"

"I get the idea," he interrupted and kissed her again.

Christine felt his boundaries slip away, just like the rest of their clothes slipped off. She arched into his touch, felt his pleasure through the bond. Soon, she found herself on her bed, looking into his eyes above her.

"I trust you," she whispered.

"Very well." He smirked slyly, and for a while afterwards, no one said anything. At least nothing intelligible.

She felt warm as she woke up, huddled into her blanket on one side and against some source of warmth on the other. Strange. Since when did she sleep naked?

She opened her eyes and looked into Spock's face.

Ah, yes, that was why. She smiled as she brushed a strand of hair behind his ear and remembered the events of last night.

Spock opened his eyes as she kissed him on the forehead.

"I like this," she murmured sleepily. "Waking up next to you."

"Hm, yes."

Spock took in her dishevelled appearance, feeling a faint notion of satisfaction that he had been the cause of it.

"Still," she continued as she stretched herself, "it's painfully obvious these beds were not designed for two."

"You are entitled to sleep alone," he said, and raised one eyebrow.

"Oh, I will, now and then. I doubt you'd want to be woken up just because I had a late shift."

"You may also sleep alone simply because you do not want to share a bed."

Christine giggled softly and caressed his cheek. "How could I have been so lucky to be with you?"

"It's not a matter of luck," Spock protested. "Us becoming involved is the logical culmination of all preceding events."

"So, this is fate? I'm your destiny?" she teased.

Spock sighed. "I will take a shower. Then, we can have breakfast in here, if you want."

"I'd be delighted to, Spock," she said, still grinning.

When they sat huddled together at her desk, over some vegetarian English breakfast that Christine had coaxed out of the synthesizer, she suddenly froze, a spoon of beans halfway to her mouth.

"It's Monday!" she exclaimed. "The diplomats arrive this evening."

"Indeed," Spock said. If he didn't have such an acute perception of time, he would have forgotten as well, with all the personal developments in the recent past. "The Vulcan delegation will arrive at 1700 hours."

"The Vulcan delegation. That means…"

"My parents." He nodded curtly.

"Spock…" She hesitated and put down her spoon. "Do they even know?"

"Yes. I am certain they have known longer than we have."

"But they don't know it from you?"

"No, they do not." Spock fixed her with a questioning glance. "You would prefer if I called ahead and told them?"

"Oh, Spock…I don't mind. But I'm sure at least your mother would appreciate it."

"You might be right," Spock agreed. "I will talk to her after breakfast. And we might want to tell our friends as well now."

To be continued...

How do you think their friends will react? And who do you think will they each tell first?