This is just a short fic I wrote a while back now, and forgot about until recently after finding it again on my laptop! Hope you enjoy :) x

"Hey..." Connie rolled over, just opening her eyes before sighing sleepily, her hand hitting cold sheets instead of Jacob's familiar, warm skin. Realising this, she sat upright, noticing then the small piece of paper laid on top of his pillow. She read it and smiled, running her fingers through her hair once before deciding that she would get dressed now, whilst he was finding them breakfast.

They had flown into Paris late last night, after her last shift for four days. Jacob had arranged their midweek stay, her input being only the clothes she wanted packing, as he had insisted that he had absolutely everything under control. And he had been right, the hotel was perfect; situated on a little street just a minute from the back of the Louvre, very central in location yet quiet, and beautifully furnished. As she walked into the bathroom, she took a moment just to comprehend the fact that she was here, doing this, with him. The initial shock wore off quickly, and she was filled simply with a sense of excitement and happiness that came only with when she was with him. 'Love', for her, had never been like this. 'Love' had never taught her so much, never as much as being in love with Jacob did. When he entered the room twenty minutes later, she immediately felt her lips pull upwards. She heard the rustle of paper packaging before the bathroom door opened a little wider, and she turned to face him whilst she finished tying her hair back into a messy plait behind her.

"Wow."

He came to stand in front of her, grinning. She wore a little, white, strappy sundress, her makeup was light and he could see each freckle that stood out on her nose and cheekbones. He touched his hand to the strands of hair that framed her face, pressing a kiss to the side of her mouth before leading her back through to the room.

"Alors, mademoiselle..." He paused, winking at her as she rolled her eyes. "Nous avons le brioche, et des croissants..." He gestured to the opened packaging that laid on the bed, watching as she quickly moved to sit at the top end, legs crossed with her back against the headboard, brioche in hand.

"Good?"

"Mmm." She looked up at him as she ate, motioning for him to sit next to her.

"You don't want coffee?"

She shook her head, and at his bemused expression she chewed that bit faster, tilting her head from side to side as she did so.

"Too hot for coffee. It's not like I have to psyche myself up for being thrown up on today, so I'm fine with just water, thank you."

"Patients don't dare to throw up on you..." He retorted again with a wink, but she did have a point. They'd felt it as they'd stepped off the plane; 33°C temperatures at eleven o'clock at night; heat which neither of them had really ever been exposed to. Connie had barely taken a proper holiday in years, and Holby was hardly an exotic location in summertime, she had still been wearing long sleeved shirts even now at the end of August. He poured water from a bottle that had been chilled in the mini fridge overnight into two small tumblers, and came to sit next to her on the bed, laughing as he knocked into her elbow and sent pastry crumbs flying over the sheets.

...

After breakfast, they filled water bottles and gathered their bags. He wouldn't tell her where they were headed this morning, saying only that she would most probably regret her choice of footwear. Naturally, she ignored him, and the wedged, tan, strappy sandals stayed firmly on her feet as they walked out of the hotel and into the already stifling heat.

"And they're still refusing to call this a heatwave?" Connie murmured, adjusting her sunglasses to lower over her eyes as she glanced upwards at the cloudless sky above them.

"Apparently. I spoke to the lady at reception this morning and she said this is above average summer temperature. August is supposed to be their wettest month."

She raised an eyebrow, and he reached to take her hand as they walked. She looked down before linking her fingers within his, biting her bottom lip as she noticed how the corners of his mouth turned upwards that little bit more.

"Right then. You, me... City of Love..." He swung their arms gently, pulling her closer to his side as they came to a stop, a small group of people in front of them. "Hm. I think we want the eighty five."

They were at a bus stop, metres from their hotel. Inwardly, Connie was amazed at how well Jacob seemed to have planned: the effort and time it must have taken for him to find a place suitable in such a central location, that he knew she would like... Subconsciously, she leant closer to his side, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling down at her. She knew that she had little faith in men, in love, but Jacob seemed to always break that defence boundary whilst knowing exactly how to work around her.

They only had to wait a few minutes before a bus approached, her lips quirking as she took her purse from her bag, knowing full well that Jacob's French extended only so far as food and stock phrases learnt in secondary school.

"Where do we want?"

"Er... Muller?"

He realised what she was doing and was already beginning to protest, but as the bus stopped she stepped forwards, exchanging euros for two tickets in a fluid stream of conversation which left Jacob standing proudly, yet somewhat unsurprised, to her side. Despite the tickets she now held in her hand, she continued to talk with the driver, Jacob glancing behind him to see a steadily growing queue of impatient Parisians on the pavement.
"Flirting in fluent French, of course..." He murmured under his breath, patting at her lower back and rolling his eyes when she merely held up one finger, before smiling and thanking the man, pushing her glasses up and over her fringe as she walked up the aisle to a couple of seats by a window.

"Okay?" She asked, handing him his ticket before settling her back against the glass.

"Absolutement." He gave her a pointed look, albeit still soft, not intending to be wholly sarcastic. Several stops later, it became evident that she was so not going to broach the subject, so he decided to intervene. "You didn't think that I would be interested in the fact that you speak French, fluently?"

"Oh Jacob, I am not fluent in Fr-"

"Right, stop there. You are."

"I've been to a few meetings here, years ago, a few courses..."

"Oh, so you only know medical jargon and swallowed 'How to Flirt like La Belle Parisienne'?" He regarded her unimpressed expression before exhaling with a sigh. "You were there last night when I was struggling at the hotel."

"I was sleepy! And listening to you muddle through the, I'll grant you completely nonsensical, French numerical system was rather amusing."

"Room ninety two. And all along, you could have quite happily chipped in with whatever it is."

"Quatre vingt douze." She smiled sweetly at him, glancing up at the illuminated sign above their heads which indicated the approaching stop. When she looked back at Jacob, he was watching her, smiling. He couldn't even pretend to be annoyed with her.

"He must've been about fifty. If he'd been even remotely good looking then maybe I could begin to understand why..."

"Jacob, I'm nearly fifty." She said, squinting at him through her right eye as the sun coming in from behind her bounced off the glass of the opposite window and momentarily blinded her.

"Irrelevant." He flicked her sunglasses down from the top of her head over her eyes, winning a smile from her. "He looked fifty. I've seen the photos of you from when you were in your twenties and you look no different, you just change your hair."

They were interrupted by another sharp ding as the bus stopped once more, the two of them quickly standing to move through the growing crowd of people standing in front of the doors. Once onto the street, Connie looked around for Jacob, to see him beckoning her closer to the edge of the pavement, where she could now see a relatively narrow road leading up an incredibly steep hill.

"Up there?"

"Yep. Up there." He glanced down to her feet, but she was already walking on ahead of him, one hand holding the frame of her sunglasses as she took in her surroundings. They kept as best as they could to the shade offered at the far left side of the cobbles by the overhanging buildings, the road seeming to incline more the further they walked. Eventually, trees came into view as they neared the top, the distance between them and the bottom road now considerable.

"Okay, just up here, there should be..." He took her left hand as he guided her through the small patch of trees which lined the top of the hill, grinning when he found exactly what he had been hoping for.

"Oh... Okay."

Up and ahead of them, was a flight of steps that she couldn't, as far as the eye could see, find an end to. But still, she had no intention of giving him an satisfaction regarding his earlier comment on her footwear, and tilted her head to indicate that she was ready to go. He smiled and nodded, knowing full well the extent of her steely resilience, but taking her hand when he sensed her slowing down, the two of them continuing in silence until he pointed out the top of the stairs was now visible.

"So, do you perhaps know now where we're headed?" He nodded upwards, letting go of her hand as she passed ahead of him.

"Sacré Cœur." She breathed, ascending the last few steps before moving to the side, removing her sunglasses in order to properly take in the brilliant white basilica above them.

"Go on then, tell me a fact. I know you're dying to." He winked, and she elbowed him lightly before raising her hand to shield her eyes from the glaring light.

"We're on Montmatre, and the dome there... It's the second highest point in Paris."

"Come on then."

"What?"

"This is nothing!" He gestured down the view of the city that stretched out below them, before leading her up another couple of stairs to then take them to the foot of the building. They walked around the side, until they came to an entrance marked: "Entrée; OVOID DOME."

As they waited for the couple before them to pay for their entrance tickets, Connie felt Jacob nudge her side, and saw him nod to the left side of her to a blue sign, whilst desperately attempting to keep his expression neutral. The sign quite clearly marked the entrance to a staircase; a very narrow, steep staircase.

"Attention, three hundred steps. Three hundred..." She spoke, then turned around to look at him, but he had already turned his back and was conversing with the woman in the ticket office. She sighed, pulling her heel just out of her shoe before slipping it back in, now somewhat well practiced in the act of ignoring this discomfort. Just as she finished inching her toes back to the ends, he turned around, an eyebrow raised as if to say, "If you say now that you're in pain, it's fine, we can do this another day." But she shook her head, moving forwards to stand next to him as the woman began chatting to her colleague in the office, their tickets in her hand but apparently with little intention of actually delivering them.

"Go on, you go up. You'll need a head start with those anyway." He grinned, his eyes sweeping down her legs to her feet before meeting hers again, and she poked her tongue into the side of her cheek before turning, glancing quickly, he noticed, to the sign above the tiny doorframe and disappearing up the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the viewing dome, now bustling with people taking photographs and pointing out various landmarks of the cityscape. He walked around, slowly, smiling when eventually he found her, standing with her back to him, facing outwards in a gap that allowed one to bend slightly outwards from the dome, completely oblivious to the people around her, and looking out over the city. He left her for a moment, watching how she seemed transfixed, unmoving save for the occasional tug of breeze through her hair. He stood, letting several people walk past him before moving forwards, slowly wrapping one arm and then the other across her stomach, holding her against him as he pressed running kisses in her hair, down to her ear and to her jaw. They stood there together then, his head resting over her shoulder, both of them quietly stunned by the sheer beauty of what was before them.

"It's beautiful." She sighed, speaking without meaning to, but he smiled at the observation that came from her.

"You fit in perfectly then, sweet cheeks."

"Hm?" She didn't turn her attention from him, her eyes scanning slowly over to where the Eiffel Tower stood seemingly in miniature, until no response was forthcoming and tilted her head around to look at him.

He was already looking at her, and she raised her right eyebrow, noticing that they were now being watched by several people seated on the opposite side of the walkway.

"You're beautiful."

"Jacob..."

He felt her try to turn from him, but he held her still, his thumbs stroking her sides, catching the fabric of her dress slightly between his fingers each time he moved them upwards.

"Connie. You are."

Her cheeks flushed, and just as she tried to dip her head away from him again, he turned her around to face him, so that they stood sideways in the gap, and he lifted her chin gently with his hand, before kissing her. She opened her mouth to kiss him back, smiling as she felt the warm stone of the building suddenly at her back, Jacob inadvertently pushing her backwards. She pressed a hand to his chest, laughing now as he pulled away and began to apologise, aware now of his surroundings instead of simply her.

"Would you like a picture?"

Both she and Jacob turned quickly to the direction of the voice, a man in his thirties standing with a woman of a similar age, both tanned and smiling.

"Would we?" Jacob smiled down at Connie, whose eyes spoke her thoughts perfectly but, as she in fact said nothing, he decided he would take the couple up on their offer. "That's very kind of you, thank you..."

Connie sighed as Jacob pulled out his phone, handing it to the man before taking her hand, and then slipping a hand about her waist as they turned so that the view was behind them.

"Ugh, Jacob. We look like such tourists." She muttered out of the corner of her mouth, Jacob rolling his eyes just before the picture was taken, his hand slipping to lightly hit her bottom in order to guarantee her smile.

...

"Calamari and pizza?"

He tilted his menu down towards the table, in momentary disbelief.

"Problem?"

"No. Just... unusual."

He tried to restrain a laugh as she ran her fingers through her fringe, frowning as its occasionally unruly tendrils seemed to work against her. She eventually lost patience, huffing a little before leaning back into the seat. They had chosen a small restaurant that evening for dinner, and it was already near to full, the two of them no strangers to late meals what with the nature of working hours at the emergency department. Their seats were in a corner of the room, and having decided to sit next to each other rather than at opposites, they were now finalising their order.

"Rosé?"

"Mm. That would be lovely." She smiled, and he smiled back, leaning forward just as a waiter appeared and immediately addressed Connie. As she spoke, frequently gesturing this way and that with her hands and noticing how the man didn't seem entirely focused on just what she was saying as much as the appearance of the woman with whom he was talking to, Jacob moved his hand to rest against her leg, then over on top of the cotton of her dress. He smiled to himself as he watched his fingers disappear under the fabric, biting his lip as he felt her muscles contract and react to his touch. He stole a glance at her face as she continued to talk, and he saw how her breath didn't come so evenly now, and her head tilted towards him a little as his fingers inched higher; all signs unnoticeable to anyone except to him. Her skin was achingly smooth, and warm, and as his hand curled just around to her inner thigh he exhaled, before summing up the willpower to retract it, albeit slowly, to lie back flat over her dress, her legs now moving to cross one over the other.

"Oui, merci monsieur." She soon finished, turning immediately to Jacob whilst the waiter still stood standing by the table, taking his cheek in her palm and guiding his lips to hers.