Title: Tell Me Something I Don't Know

Summary: A moment long forgotten, that Sara never knew about.

Spoilers: The Hunger Artist; Family Affair

Disclaimer: Not mine! But some days I feel that I treat them better than the "official" writers. I mean, uhm, just kidding... sort of.

Author's Note: Just a small, cute moment that I thought needed to be explored some more. I hope everyone likes this. Enjoy!

"Tell me something I don't know."

Grissom looked up from the book he was reading with a quirked eyebrow. Hank was curled at his feet, snoring quietly. Their balcony doors were wide open, letting in the summer breeze Paris had to offer. "Hmm?" he said, eyes returning to the words on the page.

She looked at him from across the room, where she was washing the dishes from their late breakfast. "I said, tell me something I don't know."

He smirked at her. "There isn't much you don't know, dear. What exactly would you like me to tell you?"

She put a plate in the drying rack. "Something about us. Something small and tiny that you did, or thought, or wanted... just something I don't know." She shrugged.

"Haven't I told you everything? Haven't we divulged all of our secrets?"

"Not something bad, Gil. Just a little something." She saw the argument on his lips and smiled in her flirtatious way. "Indulge me."

He smiled then, placed his bookmark in between the pages he was reading, and set the book down on the coffee table. "I'm honestly not sure there is anything, Sara."

"In that big brain of yours, I'm sure there is. I'll give you a few minutes." She turned back to the sink, leaving him to his thoughts.

He wracked his mind, trying to think of something he'd never told her in regards to their relationship. All the major moments had been revealed and discussed and dissected years ago. All his mistakes and faults had been owned up to and apologized for. Now all that was left were little nuggets, those moments they had shared over the years. But which one hadn't he told her about yet?

Then all of a sudden, it came to him.

The alley was dark, and he was on a mission to gather evidence. He pulled his jacket a little tighter around him, and approached the dumpster that a man was rooting through. "Good stuff in here," he commented.

The man looked up, startled. "Hey. You got a smoke?"

Grissom shook his head. "No, sorry."

He threw up his hands. "Then what good are you?"

Grissom was ready to move on when something caught his eye. A stain, on the man's scarf. An idea popped to mind, and he needed that scarf. "Depends," he said, moving away from the dumpster and closer to the man.

He put his hands up. "Whoa, hey." He backed up a few steps. "Don't even think you can play me, my man."

"I'm not playing," Grissom said, as innocently as he could. "I got a gal named Sara, and she would love that scarf." The man looked down, then back at Grissom. "What do you say? Trade me?" He held out his jacket.

The man slowly removed the scarf. "Yeah, what the hell," he said, and handed it over, snatching Grissom's jacket in the process.

And just like that, he had his evidence.

Sara pulled the plug on the sink, and wiped her hands on a towel. She turned back to him, leaning on the counter. "Got something for me?" she asked.

Grissom grinned. "Actually, I do." He patted the couch next to him. She sidled over, and sat at the other end, extending her long legs his way, letting her feet rest gently in his lap.

"Alright Gilbert, let me have it." She wiggled her toes.

He picked one of her delicate feet up and started to massage it. "Once, during a case, I told someone you were mine."

She raised an amused eyebrow. "Oh really? And was I, at the time?"

The boyish smile she loved so much appeared on his face, under his beard, and his blue eyes twinkled. "You've always been mine."

She blushed, and ducked her head. "You know what I mean."

He nodded. "I do. And no, you weren't at the time. It was a very long time ago."

"When was it? Which case?"

He continued to massage her foot gently, thinking back. "The Ashleigh James case, do you remember it?"

Her brow furrowed in thought for a moment, then he saw the lightbulb go off in her eyes. "The model? With the homeless sister, right? And that damned food journal she kept!"

Grissom chuckled and squeezed her ankle. "That's the one."

"I do remember it. But when, and to who, could you have said something to?"

"A homeless man."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I said it to a homeless man, in an alley."

She stared at him. "Uhm... why? What did you even say?"

He removed his hands from her feet, and leaned back. "I was in the alley, around the corner from where the model had lived. I was... acquainting myself with her life, and this man had a scarf I thought could be helpful to the investigation. I wanted it, but a homeless man isn't just going to give you his scarf, so I had to... improvise."

Sara bit back a laugh. Gil Grissom was not a man known for his improvisation skills. "What did you say to him?" she asked again.

He smiled as the memory came to him. "I said, "I've got a gal named Sara who would love that scarf," and he gave it to me, after I offered him my jacket."

She felt her jaw drop, and her heart squeeze at the same time. "Gil..." she couldn't find the words to express her reaction adequately. Instead, she twisted her body to land herself in his arms. "You said that to a perfect stranger?"

He laced his fingers around her waist. "I did. And I didn't even think twice about it."

She smiled and hugged him tightly. "I can't believe you never told me that."

A blush crept up his cheeks. "Actually, I'd forgotten about it, until you asked. I kind of keep a log of what I consider moments we've shared. I spent so much time agonizing over everything..."

She kissed the underside of his jaw. "I did too. Every day."

"It was just so long ago. Eight years, can you believe it?"

She shook her head. "That was a long time ago. But if I remember, we were in an okay place at that time. Things were good between us, after the plant..." she looked over his shoulder at the plant in the corner, and sighed happily.

"Well, except for my hearing."

She cringed. "I'm sorry."

Grissom kissed her forehead. "It's okay. It's in the past. And we're in a better place now. We're married, and we're happy." He continued to feather kisses over her skin.

Sara looked around their apartment. It was light, airy, and had the feeling of an actual, lived in home. Hank rested at their feet, the scent of fresh, baked, Parisian bread wafted in through the window, and Grissom's arms were around her; his lips against her cheek. She was madly in love, married, living happily with a gorgeous man who loved her, and indeed in a better place than she used to be. It was called life, and she was living it, finally.

-end-