Summary: A little bit out of character, Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom are on a flight to a seminar when things heat up in midair. Definetly rated M for Mature. Submitted in Work In Progress format, although it's not going to be very long, so the chapters will be short. I hope you enjoy!

A/N: I had taken quite a long hiatus, but am back now with a vengeance, so look for new installments on my old WIPs! I just needed to write something new to start myself up again.


"I hate Paris in the springtime..." Sara Sidle sang the words under her breath, her eyes tightly closed, hands clutching the armrests tightly, as though she were riding a roller coaster instead of a commercial airplane. Her fellow passenger, Dr. Gil Grissom, was eyeing her nervously. He'd spent most of their time in pre-flight observing the other passengers on the sparsely populated airliner, trying not to think about the nearly four hours of flight time he had ahead of him. It wasn't that he hated flying, as it appeared Sara did--it was her proximity. Her nearness had the power to do terrible, wonderful things to him, and he wasn't quite sure what he planned to do to prevent that. The dreams he'd been having for the past two weeks... his face burned with the memories. Grissom shifted in his seat, needing to adjust his body in the cramped space, not to mention shield his growing reaction to the thought of those dreams.

"I hate Paris in the fall..." This time Grissom heard what Sara was actually singing, not what his mind had replaced with the correct words of the song. He finally let himself look over at her, and when he did, he felt horribly selfish. She looked, in a word, terrified.

"Sara?" He said gently, being careful not to touch her lest he startle her too badly. 'Not that you ever touch her,' he thought to himself sadly. 'Only in your dreams...' Grissom shook his head quickly, trying to halt the procession of erotic thoughts that threatened to envelop him.

"I hate Paris in the summer when it-" Sara broke off as Grissom interrupted her, speaking her name with a gentleness that, for just a moment, took her mind off of the fear she was consumed with.

"Sara, why do you hate Paris?" He could tell that she was frightened, but her choice of verse baffled him completely.

"French Kiss," she said, tensely.

"I beg your pardon?" Sara's quiet comment did not help his growing predicament. 'Baseball stats...decomp in an enclosed space... ...Sara's tongue on his earlobe...' He was losing his battle, and quickly.

"It's a movie," She began, and then gasped as the engine closest to their seat whirred to life. Sara took a deep breath, and glanced over at Grissom. She could tell he was uncomfortable, and took it to mean that her fear was bothering him. She took another deep breath, and continued her explanation.

"Meg Ryan, Kevin Kline. Her character is terrified of flying, but she gets on a plane to Paris..." Sara trailed off, blushing slightly as she looked back over at Grissom, whose eyes seemed to be faraway, unfocused. "You ok?" Sara never thought she'd be asking anyone else that on a plane.

"Hmmm?" he still didn't seem to be paying attention. It was Sara's turn to feel selfish--what if he were also afraid to fly? She didn't think he was, but couldn't think of any other reason why he would be so studiously ignoring her. No reason that made sense for today's situation, that is. She figured he had plenty of other reasons to ignore her at the lab...

"Griss?" Her sense of panic intensified as the opposite engine rumbled to life, causing her voice to rise several octaves. To Grissom, this change of tone fit in nicely to the waking dream he was experiencing.

"Oh Griss..." Sara cried, in response to his gentle thrusting...

He felt a hand clutch his arm, and it felt much more substantial than the ones around his neck in his daydream. He opened his eyes and blinked at the flat, bright interior of the plane. Sara had his arm in a death grip, and he felt simultaneous shame and disgust at himself. Here she was, looking to him for help with her fear, and he was too busy fantasizing about her. His face burned deep red, and his stomach fluttered with new anxiety. Sara was a trained investigator--and he had no idea what he may have murmured during his imaginings--what if she realized what his problem really was? He took a deep breath, and turned to her.

The sigh that Sara interpreted as stemming from exasperation nearly made her forget how scared she was, which was quite an accomplishment. When she looked at him, however, his expression was not that of pique, but of... If it had been any other man, Sara would have instantly recognized the look in his eyes as lust mixed with concern, but when her mind offered this combination to her, she instantly brushed it away as irrational. In any case, the look was gone in a split second, replaced by a more easily identifiable 'Grissom' look--concern mixed with uneasiness. Grissom would have been very surprised to find that Sara could tell how often he was uncomfortable around her, although she would never have accurately pinpointed the reason. If truth was told, the reason he was uneasy today was slightly different from normal--he was, quite honestly, consumed with desire.

"I asked if you were all right?" Sara's voice, although not quite as anxious as before, still had an uneasy twinge to it that Grissom completely missed, because as she spoke, she turned in her seat to face him--and he just knew what it was she would see, if he couldn't find a way to prevent it.

'Think, Gil...think!' he said frantically to himself, his face held rigid through iron concentration, but his eyes darting around for something--anything!--to place strategically on his lap. TRAY TABLE! With one swift movement, he slid the bar that held the tray in place, and let it drop to his lap.

PAIN. Grissom groaned out loud as the table dropped farther down than he'd expected, and mused to himself that perhaps the pain was a good idea.

What he hadn't counted on, though, was Sara.

With a mue of concern, she reached over to lift the offending slab of plastic off of her boss, but her hand stopped dead in its tracks when she discovered something quite unexpected. The discovery of Grissom's...excitement...had the effect that Sara's song had not. Her fear evaporated, replaced by something nearly as dangerous, and far more potent.