A/N: I've had the idea for this one rattling around in my head for a while now but couldn't quite work out the details until I saw 6.10 "CSI:My Nanny". The italics in the begining are a portion of Eric and Calleigh's conversation in that episode, and that little moment was enough to jar the story loose from my brain. So here's a little bit of cute fluff for you to enjoy :-D

"Can you imagine raising a family without any help? I mean, you know, given the hours we work?

"Yeah, I could. Definitely."

"Really?"

"Yeah why, you don't think I'd make a good dad?"

"No, I think you'd make a great dad. I just never heard you mention having children before."

"I don't know, maybe when I find the right girl."

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had become a part of his bedtime ritual, but he had done it every night without fail for some time now. Once changed and stretched out under the covers, he allowed his mind to wander to subjects more pleasant than those he investigated at work. Without fail, Calleigh would make an appearance in his brain, thoughts of holding her in his arms, of sleeping next to her every night, of brushing stray locks of her silky blond hair away from her face helping to push away the horrors that he saw on the job and relax him into a peaceful slumber.

Over time the simple images expanded into a parade of his favorite memories of her, developing from there into all out daydreams of the two of them together, dating, becoming serious, getting engaged, planning a wedding, getting married, starting a family. Her question at the Lambert house that afternoon had caught him off guard, forcing him for one brief moment to wonder if she did the same thing while she lay in bed at night. After all, women were supposed to be the ones who imagined finding a partner and settling down. The surprise in her voice, though, told him that she hadn't thought much about it, at least not in any kind of good way. And given her childhood, he wasn't exactly shocked by that revelation.

But nowhere did it say that men couldn't daydream, too.

Tonight the fantasy was the Duquense-Delko family Christmas. Two small children sat on stools at a kitchen island, mixing cookie dough with wooden spoons in emulation of their mother. A baby was perched in a nearby highchair, cooing and grinning while nibbling on Cheerios, and Eric bent to kiss her dark hair as he entered the room. He went straight for Calleigh as she supervised the cookie-making process, stopping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"How's it going?" he asked.

The kids seated at the island were models of concentration and Calleigh giggled, resting her arms over his and clasping his hands. "Well, most of the flour stayed in their bowls, but some of the M&Ms didn't make it."

Eric grinned. "So we're going to have to put to bed two hyperactive kids all hopped up on sugar. That's going to go well."

"It's not my fault they inherited your sweet tooth," she protested mirthfully.

"But where did they get all that energy?" he teased in return.

She turned in his arms, tilting her face up and smiling gently. "From the same parent that gave them their beautiful brown eyes."

His own smile softened in response. "Or the one that gave them their gorgeous smiles," he replied, leaning his forehead against hers.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she reached up and kissed him, one of her hands caressing his cheek as the butterflies formed in his stomach at her touch.

They were interrupted by the sound of eggs being smashed, both turning to find the younger of the two at the island trying to pick up a yellow yolk off the counter to add it to his cookie dough.

"Oh, honey, no," Calleigh corrected tenderly, releasing Eric and turning to the child. "Eric, can you get—"

"—a washcloth," he finished for her, his mouth once again breaking into a wide grin. "I'm on it." He kissed her hair and went to the sink, running a dishcloth and sponge under warm water to clean up both counter and kid. When he turned back his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Calleigh bent over their middle child, the older one trying to smother her own laughter and the baby clapping gleefully from her highchair.

My family, he thought simply, wondering how he ever got to be so lucky.

He handed Calleigh the dishcloth and began cleaning up the counter with the sponge, brushing his lips against her cheek and whispering in her ear. "I love you."

Her green eyes sparkled at his words and she paused a moment, her fingers still holding small hands underneath the washcloth. "I love you, too," she murmured back.

He rolled over in bed, grabbing a pillow and pulling it against his body in a loose embrace. A slow smile spread over his face as he nuzzled the pillow, visions of Calleigh and their three imaginary children still drifting through his head.

"Love you, Cal," he mumbled into the pillowcase, wondering if he'd ever get to actually tell her that.

Hugging the pillow tighter, he thought about the way she had been responding to him lately. Despite her ongoing relationship with Jake and her outward claim to be happy with him, her smile was still quick and almost wistful with Eric, her touch soft, her demeanor just a little more than friendly.

He sighed contentedly. Maybe she was with Jake now, but that didn't mean she'd be with him forever. And as long as she continued to grow closer to Eric, he knew he could wait. Her actions toward and reactions to him gave him hope that one day she would come to her senses and see what had been right in front of her all along. It was enough hope that the daydreams would suffice until they became a reality.

And he was certain that, one day, they would.