He was her favorite. Her favorite accident.
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters.
---------------------------------------------------
Sara woke up, surprised to find he was still in bed with her, asleep. She usually woke up alone as he would already be humming a tune in the kitchen, making coffee for the both of them. She could still feel his arm draped loosely around her waist, enclosing her in a hug, just like the night before. His brown sandy curls spilled over his face, framing it. The sun was going down and it was getting dark out, and the lamp post from outside the window illuminated his features.
Sara relished the moment, taking time to listen to his quiet breathing. It was consistent, steady, calming. Even his breathing had an influence on her. In his presence, she felt secure, safe, wanted. She noticed the tiny details on his face that she never got to see before, happy that she was close enough to be able to see it. She spotted a scar he had on his forehead, normally covered by his hair. It was faded, almost invisible. Sara idly wondered where and when he had gotten the scar. She made a mental note to ask him one day. She reached out to touch it, it felt strange, bumpy yet smooth. Sara laughed softly when he scrunched up his face in slight displeasure at her cool touch against his warm skin. He looked so peaceful sleeping. Angelic, even.
Her fingers left his scar and moved onto his curls. She was twirling them around her finger, it was fast becoming a bad habit. She was feeling self-reflective. She remembered how he had always gave her his silent support. He wasn't necessarily for her train of thought and actions, but he had never failed to be there by her side. She was disappointed, tired, and emotionally drained from Grissom's confusing signals which only seemed to toy with her feelings. When she felt miserable, he made her remember that he would always be there for her. He never let her down with his quiet encouragement. She remembered him showing up in the middle of the night outside her apartment because she couldn't sleep. With beer, of course. She remembered always regarding him as a friend. A wonderful, wonderful friend. But he was to her, a friend all the same.
She had never thought of falling in love with him. Deemed it impossible, even, for her to fall in love with somebody who she thought wasn't her type at all. It was uncalled for, the way love gripped her by the shoulders and shook her, forcing her to take a look at the one person she always had in front of her but never actually saw. That love was accidental, it wasn't supposed to happened. Her feelings were initially like a tiny seed. His care and concern had watered it, taken care of it, until one day it just blossomed into a flower. She noticed him more, felt flustered around him, was uncharacteristically happier around him. Until finally, one day, while printing a knife, she finally realized that well, she was in love with Greg Sanders. The most unlikely person for her to love. She never once regretted taking that plunge though, seeing as all her other relationships usually went up in smoke. It was one decision in life she never regretted making. Loving Greg Sanders.
He woke up to the feel of someone playing with his hair. Greg opened one eye and peeked at Sara. Her mind was somewhere else, and she hadn't noticed he was awake. He shut his eye and smiled, tightening his grip on her, pulling her closer towards him. It was time to get up, but a few more minutes couldn't hurt anyone.
He kissed her hair. "Morning, love." He mumbled into it.
"Morning." She snuggled up closer against him, wanting to feel his warmth.
With him she always felt special, wanted, needed, and most of all, loved. Sara was in a cozy, comfortable place of existence she never wanted to leave.
Greg was an accident. He was her favorite accident.
End.