A/N: I know this has been done before (and done very well), but the ideas started flowing, and I had to let them out! Takes place circa season 10, obviously.

I haven't been in a French class for almost two years, so any misspellings or grammar issues in French are my fault. Enjoy!

Sunday (Dimanche)

Gil stood at the entrance to Charles de Gaulle airport, red rose clutched in hand, his heart beating as furiously as if he were a 15-year-old about to go on his first date. He bit his lip absentmindedly, his fingers tapping anxiously against the stem of the flower.

And then he saw her. Brown hair tousled from what was most likely a restless flight, her equally brown eyes were scanning the crowd in anticipation. And then she saw him.

Her face lit up and her mouth stretched into a wide, full grin. Gil felt a deep warmth wash over him as she approached, he had missed her more than he could have ever imagined. Now just a few feet from him, she abandoned the small carry-on she was dragging and quickened her pace, closing the space between them. He opened his arms and she fell into them.

"I missed you so much," she breathed into his neck the moment his arms wrapped around her.

"I missed you too, honey," he whispered back, relishing the familiar smell of her shampoo.

She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her, tracing her jaw line with light fingers. Six weeks had been too long.

He felt Sara leaning into him, and he moved towards her, their noses and foreheads touching.

"I love you," Sara breathed, barely audible above the hustle and bustle of the travelers surrounding them.

"I love you, too."

Gil brushed his lips against hers, feeling an unexpected quiver in his legs as his body reacted to being touched by her once more. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers becoming lost in his hair as she deepened the kiss. He returned her passion eagerly, aware that they looked like a pair of hormone-crazed teenagers displaying a very good example of PDA, but not caring in the least bit. He was too distracted by the softness of her lips, the slight pant in her breath and the feel of her tongue darting around his.

When they finally broke away, Gil held up the rose, smiling at her.

"For you, my dear."

Sara bit her lip and smiled, looking both on the verge of tears and elation at the same time. She took the rose from him as he gathered her things. Slipping an arm around her waist, they walked out of the crowded terminal together, her head buried in his shoulder.

Six weeks had been far too long.

Good thing it was late on a Sunday night, and barely any of Paris' patrolling police cars were out. His fingers intertwined in Sara's, Gil could barely keep his attention on the road, opting instead to stare at his beautiful wife seated beside him, causing the car to drift, several times, over the yellow lines.

"Gil!"

Sara's voice and her nudge into his shoulder tore his eyes away from her and, reluctantly, back onto the road once more. He swerved back quickly.

"I can't stop looking at you," he said, squeezing her fingers.

"Do I have something on my face?" she teased, squeezing back.

"Just beauty."

He turned to face her, blue eyes meeting brown, and the corners of Sara's mouth turned up once more.

"How was your flight?" he asked.

"Okay," she responded with a slight shrug. "Long."

"How was your last case?"

"It was a case."

"Sara."

"What?" she asked lightly, a look of innocence on her face.

"I told you to keep me updated," he said. "I want to know everything you do."

"I already told you everything," she replied.

And she had. During their nightly conversations, Sara would tell him all about her cases, but more importantly, all about the team that he had left behind so many months ago. She told him how Catherine was slowly embracing her leadership position, how good it was to see Nick again, and how well Greg had progressed since they'd last been in Vegas. How Ecklie was still uptight, how Hodges was still a kiss-ass and how Ray was flourishing in his own right.

"Besides, I don't want to talk about the lab right now," she finished.

She pulled her fingers from Gil's grasp and put her hand lightly on his thigh, just high enough to cause a great lurch in the pit of his stomach. Before he knew it, she was leaning over the console, breathing into his ear and kissing his neck.

"I want to show you how much I missed you."

Her voice low and husky, it took all Gil's strength not to pull the car over and take her right then.

"Let's at least make it home first, honey," he managed to say.

But the strain in his voice gave him away.

They made it home, barely. No sooner had Sara dropped her bag onto the kitchen table, than Gil was striding towards her, unwrapping the scarf from around her neck and sliding her chocolate colored leather jacket down off her shoulders. She smiled at him, taking his head in her hands and pressing her lips against his. She wore a tank top under her jacket, and Gil reveled in the feel of his skin against hers. He had dreamed about the feeling for many a night. He felt goose bumps rise on her skin at the touch of his fingers and an overwhelming need for her grew hard and fast within him.

He moved his hands to her waist and backed her against the wall, kissing her fiercely. Her hands gripped at his hair, and his moved around to her backside, pushing up slightly so she was lifted off the floor. She wrapped those long legs around him and Gil couldn't take any more. His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, and he tugged it over her. She smiled at him seductively, resuming their kiss as soon as the fabric was out of the way.

He began to walk them towards the bedroom, the contact of their lips never breaking, and tossed her onto the bed. He started kissing her again, first on her lips, then onto her neck and down her exposed stomach. He stopped at the waist of her jeans and gave her a small smile before undoing the button, unzipping the zipper and sliding the jeans down her legs. Gil crawled on top of his wife, admiring the view, and running his hands down her sides.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

He captured his mouth in hers again, his hands roaming.

"Gil," Sara breathed, turning her head slightly so she could speak. "Too many clothes."

Her hands grasped at his shirt, and he helped her pull it over his head.

"Better?" he asked.

"Almost."

She reached for his pants and, much gracefully than he had done, pulled them off of him. She ran her hands across his bare chest.

They let each other explore, hands roaming everywhere, remembering every detail like it had been just yesterday that they'd held and touched each other. Still on top of her, Gil had one hand cupping her face, the other resting on her flat stomach. He began to nip playfully at her skin, and relished in the sound of her gasp.

He made his way down to her waistline and began tugging at her panties. Glancing at her briefly, he could see the need in her eyes. He pulled the fabric down and resumed his kisses almost immediately. When his mouth wandered to her thighs, he kept his hands near her center, slowly pressing one, then two, fingers into her. Sara took a sharp intake of breath.

He took his time pleasuring her, teasing her mercilessly, making slow circles. He snuck another quick glance at her and saw she had removed her bra herself. He redirected his attentions and saw how very wet she was. Still circling, he put his mouth back on her and restarted his teasing, sucking, licking and nipping until Sara's back arched off the mattress, a moan escaping her lips. Gil pulled his mouth away for a moment.

"Come on, honey," he urged her. "Let go."

He slipped his tongue deep inside as her hands gripped his curls, pushing his head even further into her. His fingers moved faster and he could feel her body starting to shudder. He kept at it, hard and fast, until Sara erupted with pleasure. He could feel her heat all around his mouth as she shrieked. He had barely lifted his head before she was pulling him towards her, kissing him hard on the mouth.

"Want you," she moaned. "Now."

Her fingers were pulling frantically at the band of his boxers and he let her tug them down. He took over once they were at his knees, wriggling until they were off, while Sara's hands became busy elsewhere. His errection, already firm and hard, grew somehow even longer at her touch. She stroked and handled him until he couldn't take it any more.

"Sara," he groaned. "I want… I want…"

"What?" she asked with a seductive smile.

"I want to be in you," he managed to whisper. "Now."

His hands moved up to pin her wrists against the silky pillowcases and he positioned himself at her entrance. Sara moaned with need.

"Gil."

He palmed her breasts as he slid slowly into her, causing another groan to slip from Sara's lips. He started slow at first, rocking gently, before he gradually started gaining speed, pumping into her, slamming against her body. Sara arched her back again, slipping a finger between them to help them both along.

"Christ, Sara," he panted, beads of sweat beginning to form on his hairline.

She was close, and he could feel it. He wanted nothing more than to make her come again, feel her come while all of himself filled her.

"Go on, Sara," he said into her ear. "Come for me."

Her body started shaking, her legs quivering. She shut her eyes and let the feeling take over, until Gil gave one long, hard push and drove her over the edge. Her fingers grasped at the sheets, and although she felt words slip past her lips, she had no idea what she was saying. They were followed by a long, loud scream.

The moment Sara had shut her eyes, Gil's body went into overdrive. He felt his own orgasm rising within him, growing to meet hers. He let his body take control as he threw his head back and a guttural moan of his own passed his lips.

They collapsed into each other in exhaustion, both panting hard and struggling to catch their breath in the afterglow.

"Jesus, Sara," Gil gasped, lying, flushed, next to her. "No wonder I missed you so much."

Sara rolled over to face him, propping her head in her hands.

"I love you," she said. "So much."

Gil couldn't help but smile. He reached up and tucked an errant strand of her curly brown hair out of her face.

"I love you too, Sara."

Sara nudged open the bathroom door, tying her hair back into a ponytail before crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, staring at Gil, who was, in turn, staring back at her, a bemused expression on his face.

"What?"

He smiled wider.

"You're beautiful."

She was wearing nothing but one of his oversized t-shirts, a faded blue one that read "2001 Forensic Academy Conference" on the front, those long, long legs Gil loved so much looking even longer in the dim light.

She pursed her lips in response before flipping off the bathroom light and climbing into bed to join him. He held his arms open in response, and she settled her head into his chest as his left arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"Why don't you believe me, Sara?"

"What?"

"Why don't you believe me, when I say you're beautiful?"

She hesitated.

"You know why, Gil."

He did. It almost pained him to recollect Sara's horrific childhood, and the toll it had taken on her confidence, leaving invisible scars that lasted well beyond the foster care days. Before he could think of a response, she spoke again.

"I'm not… a model. Or… an actress. I'm not beautiful, or sexy, or any of those things. I'm just… me."

That actually did pain him. Sara Sidle, so self-assured in science and intelligence and in the workplace, could not muster up enough extra confidence to see what he saw.

"That," he said softly. "Is exactly why you are so beautiful and sexy and incredible. I don't want a model, or an actress, Sara. I want you."

"You're incredible," she whispered back. "And you have me."

"Je t'adore, ma chérie," he said, kissing her softly. "Mon petit chou."*

Sara giggled softly. She had always found the French endearment ridiculous, before Gil had said it. But, like everything, he somehow possessed the power to make even "my little cabbage" sound charming, and she was positive that, if she were standing, she would have been very weak at the knees.

"Why did we do this?"

After ten minutes of silence and spooning, the question came from nowhere, but Gil knew exactly what it meant.

"You remember why, honey," he said. "We talked about this."

She sighed a little, wriggling around to face him.

"I know," she said.

"You, my darling wife, are too inquisitive, too intelligent to sit around and kill time until your husband gets home," he said. "You'd get bored waiting around for me."

"I never get bored of this," she said, reaching for his fingers with one of her hands and stroking his face with the other.

"Me either," he said, smiling.

She gave another small sigh.

"I just wish Vegas wasn't so far away," she said. "I want to come see you more."

"I know."

"I just… I missed you so much, it hurt."

"Trust me, I know."

"I like being here. With you. I like being home."

Gil hummed his response and pressed closer to her.

"Where are you staying, anyway?" he asked while he twisted a strand of her hair between his thumb and finger, realizing he didn't know. "I never asked."

Sara had sold her apartment years ago, when she first moved in with him. Gil sold his townhouse the day after he booked a flight to Costa Rica, figuring that if he was going to do this, he might as well go all-out.

"In a hotel," she replied simply, snuggling even closer to him.

"What? Why?"

"Well, where else would I stay?" she asked, a little confused.

"Rent a place, sweetheart."

"That doesn't make any sense," she said stubbornly. "It would sit empty every few weeks or so, and I'm not even going to be back much in the long run. Gil, a hotel's fine. I promise."

"Can't you stay with somebody?"

She was silent, picking at the threads coming out of the blanket draped around Gil's waist.

"Well… Nick… offered," she said carefully.

He turned to face her in the dark.

"That's perfect," he said. "Stay with Nick."

"That wouldn't seem… weird? I mean… you'd be okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Sara deadpanned. "Staying with another guy… I didn't want to make you feel…"

"Jealous?" he offered, smiling. "Sara, honey, it's not some skeezeball from the strip. It's Nick. I'd rather you stay with him than in a hotel by yourself. He'll take care of you."

She squirmed a little in his arms.

"I don't need to be taken care of."

Her tone was quiet, not argumentative.

"I know you don't, honey," he agreed softly, reaching out to cup her face. "But I worry about you when we're apart. It would make me feel better to know you're not alone."

She was quiet at this, contemplating for a moment.

"Okay," she said softly.

"Thank you."

Sara inched closer and brushed her lips against his.

"You worry too much," she whispered.

"That's because I love you too much," Gil murmured back in response.

They laid in silence once more, Gil running his fingers softly down her arm, planting sporadic kisses into her hair. He only broke the quiet contentment when he felt a drop of moisture fall onto his arm. Through the dark, he could barely make out another tear running down Sara's cheek before it too splashed onto his skin.

"Sara?"

He heard her sniffle, trying to conceal any evidence of her tears.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

He drew away from her just enough to get a good look at her, his hands still on her arms, and his voice layered with concern.

"Honey…"

He gently wiped a stray tear from her face, his hand lingering there for comfort.

"I just… I just love you," she choked. "So much."

"Oh, Sara, honey," he breathed. "I love you, too."

He pulled her head to his chest, and she let out a sob.

"Don't be upset," he soothed, one hand gripping her tightly while the other massaged her head. "Please."

"I don't want to go back," she whimpered. "I don't ever want to leave you."

At that, he had no words. Because if it were his choice, he, too, wouldn't have her leave. Ever. But he also knew that, no matter what, she came before anything. And this was good for her. She knew it, too. It was just moments like these that made it hard to remember.

"Sara," he said, running his hands down her arms as she lifted her head from his chest. "We are going to have an entire week ahead of us. And at the end of seven days, you'll be back on an airplane, no matter how badly I want you here with me every night, but I don't want us to think of that right now. We have a whole week, an entire, beautiful week, and I want to spend every moment of it with you. Okay?"

She nodded slowly, the dried tears leaving tracks on her face. He kissed her forehead.

"No matter how hard it may seem, this is all for the better," he said. "I promise you."

They sank back into the pillows, bodies pressed closer than they had been all night, and Grissom finally felt Sara drift to sleep. He didn't loosen his hold on her, but stared at her peaceful face, hoping that, at the very least, the week ahead would pass as slowly as it possibly could. He wasn't ready to be without her just yet.

*Translation: I love you, my dear. My little cabbage.

TBC! And that marks my first attempt at smut! Your thoughts are always welcome :)