So this is a super fluffy piece I just wanted to get out of my system. I hope you all enjoy it- please review- let me know what you think!
Browny points for those who know where the tilte is from ;)
Eros
When in love it's bizarre the things that we choose to look past in our lovers, in our temporary soul mates. Studies have shown that the brain activity of those in love mirror that of schizophrenics and the pesky addictive natural high induced by romantic feelings reduces our ability to critically think. This all goes some way to explain why people can over look their significant others murderous rage or their liking of trashy, mostly scripted reality TV programs.
Not only do we look beyond their flaws we start noticing things that in every day life would only be taking note of by a stalker. We want to know things about them that in every day life would be of no interest to anyone but an obsessive with an odd interest. In those first few months of bliss we condition ourselves to learn how they like their morning coffee, what their favourite type of music is and what forms of affection they prefer.
It's all a part of the dating game. It's simply just evolution- our underlying desire to find a suitable mate and procreate. We present ourselves in the best possible light while at the same time imagining our partner in their best possible way. However in our modern world it seems rather reductionist don't you think?
The romantic field had always alluded Sara Sidle despite her experience- throughout her teenage years and even into her early twenties she had denied the existence of the fairy tale love that was portrayed in almost all popular culture. She had been adamant that she wasn't waiting on a man to sweep her off her feet and buy her a house with roses around the door. She didn't need or want those things.
The men she had been attracted to over time had all be explainable by basic psychology even the pseudo science babble printed on the glossy pages of women's magazines could explain why she had let herself get caught up with the men she had let herself get caught up with. And if she was honest the predictability of it all had started to depress her by the time she was twenty five. Of course at that stage she had met her former husband; a man that would drag her heart across deserts and eventually leave her like everyone else in the end.
Even he was the kind of relationship her therapist would attempt not to smirk at because it was just so obvious. He was fifteen years older than her, and the comparison to a father figure was one she had often had to force herself to deny. He was distant and complicated enough for it to be a challenge, like attempting to unravel and understand the vast spectrum of metaphysical theories. He had always shown a willingness to take care of her- a stark contrast to her childhood relationships with her parents and foster families.
But despite her attempts to rationalise their relationship now she could still not move past the wound it had left on her consciousness. Every so often she would convince herself that she could hear his voice in the crowd, and the dreams she had about him returning felt so vivid she would wake up feeling the same kind of rush she imagined she would were it all true.
Her reliance on science and our understand of human behavior had not been a comfort when she had been packing up her house and the life she had created for herself. She had found herself cursing higher powers she didn't believe in. And she found herself feeling emotionally overwhelmed in a way she had never experienced before. It felt as if a part of her was being taken away, that she had lost the thing that made the world make sense.
Beyond the end of her marriage was Greg Sanders.
He wasn't like the guys she had dated at University; ones looking for a good lay and disappearing far too quickly afterwards. And he was most certainly nothing like her husband. For a start, he was younger than her. And she often found herself unable to ignore the five years between them. It had been far more apparent when they'd first met; he had matured more than she had expected to him in the years that followed. Moving to the field had changed him- he cracked less jokes, he had become quieter and his personality had most certainly been somewhat muted.
All of those things were very much a consequence of seeing the things they had seen, interacting with victims families and looking killers in the eye. He had become hardened by reality that they faced outside of their safe, clean labs. It had occurred to them all that they weren't more than living organisms taught to be behave the way they do but sometimes things go wrong. And when they do, the fall out can be catastrophic.
These days he was the one taking care of her, providing her with comfort and support when she needed it the most. He picked her up with their lives seemed to be crumbling around them and left in tatters. Sara could still remember the first time he had seen her cry, the memory still made her uncomfortable. She wasn't that woman, she had never needed anyone else to put her back together but there he had been.
Her recent brush with Basderic had left her feeling more wounded and vulnerable than she had ever imagined it could. But Greg had found her in the locker room the day after as her body had given up on keeping her standing. He hadn't said a word brushing her tears aside and pulling her into his arms promising to never let go and to never leave her alone.
Sara had loved him from the start but the man he had become had made her fall in love with him.
Their relationship had ignited something strange, weird and wonderful between them. Their transition from best friends to lovers had surprised her by how easy it had been. And what had caught her off guard had been the overwhelming power of the lusty feelings that he had stirred in her.
Sara had learnt about the subtle changes that occurred in his eyes that indicated to his moods. And the smoldering looks he would give her telling her that he wanted her were enough to make her melt. The small changes in colour of his gaze were like the desert heat getting into her pores surrounding and enveloping her.
Greg had never been one to show off his physical form leaving that a task for Nick and Warrick while he blended into the back ground. His role had always been to provide insight into the various interesting, odd aspects of Vegas life. But Sara had recently found herself wondering why Greg had chosen to hide away behind ugly shirts and sweater vests all of these years. Beneath all of his clothes his body was perfect in her eyes.
She would watch him work, in his well fitted suits recalling the smell of his skin and how her touch had explored his firm, well toned form. He had strong arms she knew from the times he had held her up while they had done the deed in the darkened corners of the lab when impatience had gotten the better of them. Sara had found that she adored watching him from the counter as he cooked for her, the muscles in his back changing with every movement.
The part of him that she loved the most were his hands. It seemed like an odd thing to adore but from the time they had spent together she realised they never stopped catching her off guard. When he used them to hold her in place they were tough, at the same time those were the same fingers that gently traced patterns on her back while she slept and could drive her to the point of screaming profanities with simple tortuous rhythms.
Greg knew her like the back of his hand, he knew all of the ways to make her tick, he was inside her head and all over her body as if she were a book he had read a hundred times.
They weren't another statistic or footnote they were content in a way they never knew they could be. All of the theories, the studies and the analysis had been thrown out of the window for Sara they didn't need explanations for why they seemed to be the perfectly odd fit. They just were.
The End