Returning to the intelligence field after taking a long break is not easy. While you're away from it, it is easy to glamorize even the most mundane of activities. Surveillance was one of those activities that were hard to glamorize at any level.

"Remind me again why I wanted to get back into the action with you guys?" Mercy asked, as she walked through the house.

"Because you forgot how boring surveillance work was," Sam laughed, following her into the bedroom. "And you wouldn't listen when I tried to tell you."

"You tend to exaggerate sometimes, Sam. I had to see for myself," she dismissed, kicking off her shoes. "I forgot how punchy I get after sitting in a car for six hours watching people pretending to be oh so important at an over priced, trendoid outdoor club."

"And maybe you just wanted to get out and join them?" he teased

One thing Sam had learned over the years was that a punchy Mercy was a playful Mercy. After being stuck doing something as boring as surveillance for hours on end, she was all keyed up and needed to blow off steam. Some of their most exciting nights together came after a long night of watching someone else having a good time.

His thoughts of an exciting night faded as turned on the television, "What are you doing?"

"Checking to see if the weather's on," she dismissed. "I'm supposed to do outdoor yoga with Madi tomorrow and I'm hoping that storm front gets here before class starts."

"Mercy, it's three am," he shook his head and looked at the screen, surprised to see Bugs Bunny, "Looney Tunes is on at three am?"

Mercy shrugged, "How often am I watching TV at three am?"

"Hell, the only things I ever knew that was on at three am were infomercials and soft core porn on cable," he sniffed, turning to find her standing naked at the foot of the bed.

Sam never could resist a naked redhead, especially Mercy. He reached out for her, but she moved too fast, sitting on the edge of the bed and pointing at the television.

"Pepe LePew!" she grinned, "He's my favorite."

"He is?" he asked, deciding that she really was punchy if she was more interested in a cartoon skunk than him.

"Yes! I love him! He's just so into that cat," she went on, "And she's terrified of him."

"Of course she is, he's a skunk…" he dismissed, quickly stripping out of his clothes.

"A sexy skunk," she teasingly said, "He's all suave and debonair. See, if I were that cat? I'd give in to him."

He sat down next to her, "You'd give in to the skunk?"

"Look at him," she nodded at the television.

As usual, Pepe was putting his slickest moves onto the terrified cat with the white paint stripe down her back. He kissed his way along the cat's arm while whispering sweet nothings in pigeon French. This, apparently, tickled Mercy to no end.

"He wants her big time. If this wasn't a kid's cartoon, he'd be all sorts of turned on." She looked at him, "Kinda like you are."

He laughed, "Yeah, well…"

"But you're not speaking French to me," she sniffed.

The only language Sam ever truly mastered was English, but he did know enough of several other languages to survive just about anywhere he'd ever "worked." French, however, was not a language he'd ever needed to use. Sure, he studied it in high school, but that was a long time ago. Mercy, however, knew that he'd taken French in school and called him on it.

"Come on, Sammy," she purred, "Don't tell me you forgot everything you learned in high school French."

He recognized it for the challenge that it was and with a smart smile, he took her arm and starting at the wrist, kissed his way towards her shoulder. "Oh, my little espion femelle. Désirez-vous avoir le sexe avec moi?"

Mercy giggled as he leaned her back onto the bed and leaned above her, working his way along her shoulder blade.

"La voiture est bleue," he said, his lips poised above hers, "Well? Is it working?"

She claimed his lips in a passionate kiss, "Keep talking."

Sam searched his memory banks for more of his high school French, and secure in the knowledge that Mercy never had much of a use for French in her career, either, he kept speaking, "Peux-j'avoir un morceau de papier ? Il pleut aujourd'hui."

Sam was surprised at the response he was getting from her. Most surprising was the phrase that finally pushed her over the edge, "Nous chantons et dansons dans la matinee."

"Wow," she said, once she'd finally caught her breath, "That was hot."

"Yeah it was," he agreed, stretching out and yawning, "But coming up with all of those sexy phrases tired me out."

"Sexy phrases?" she laughed, "Sammy, you told me the car was blue, asked me for a piece of paper and then told me it was raining."

"You understood me?"

"Every single word! My favorite was, we sing and dance in the morning," she snickered.

"A couple of minutes ago, that phrase got a totally different response from you," he protested.

"It wasn't what you said, it was how you said it," she winked, stretching out next to him. "And the fact that you had to work for it." She yawned, "I better get to sleep. Outdoor yoga takes a lot of energy."