I will write for any fandom that I have listed in my bio. Most of these will be character x reader. Aside from fictional characters, there will be some Parent!Character(s) x Readers as well. Some won't be x Readers at all, but ships that the read...
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(A/N: CSI is rated PG 16, so I'm gonna rate this fic PG 16, for a description of...pretty much a reenactment of what Gil and Sara do in 4x07.)
Gil and Sara were in Tahoe. Gil had been asked to consult on a case, and advised to bring a team member in case he needed an extra hand to help with his end of the investigation. The case had concluded, and Gil and Sara were taking the rest of the day to just enjoy the city, not wanting to go through the painfully long drive back to Vegas just yet.
They were taking a stroll and having a chat. Their topic of conversation really interested Sara, and she was talking animatedly, expressing a lot with her face as well as gesticulated heavily.
At one point, Sara turned on her heel to face Grissom, raising her hands on either side of her head. However, the abrupt twist made her foot catch and she fell backwards, and she exclaimed as she did so. Gil reached forwards quickly, too quickly. In the end, he tripped and fell on top of her. He put out his hands to stop himself from landing on her, and his hands ended up on her wrists, the pressure thrusting her arms deeper into the snow. They grunted at the sudden, and fortunately minor, impact. Gil's toes were bent as he held himself up, with one foot on the outer side of Sara's leg and the other on the inner side. Yet Gil subconsciously shifted so that his feet were on either side of Sara's legs, so as to balance himself out.
And then, they remained like that, just staring at each other, into each other's eyes, at each other's lips, having been rendered incapable of movement, or coherent thought. Their breaths were shallow and their hearts were pounding hard. And they remained like that, just staring.
Staring.
"Gil, uh-" Sara said in a small voice, breaking the thick tension.
"S-sorry! I'm sorry!" he interjected, hastily tearing his gaze away from her and working to get off her. He had to move back first, so he crawled backwards, until his hands were on either side of her hips, and pushed himself up altogether. He raised his hand a little but did not extend it to her, hesitant as to whether he should help her up or not, for he feared she might not want him to touch her after what he had done. Fortunately, she knew him, and reached her hand out; he got the hint and took it, pulling her up.
"Thanks," she smiled softly at him so as to reassure him.
"I-I apologise..." he said sheepishly, turning his head away and nervously fidgeting with his hands.
"Gil, it's okay," she coaxed, keeping her voice gentle and bright. "Besides, it's my bad for turning around like that," she half-joked. He did not know what to say. He still had his head turned away. He put a hand on the back of his neck and scratched it. She laughed and tapped his arm with the back of her hand. "Think nothing of it. Come on, let's continue walking," she told him, suiting the action to the word. She knew that a cheerful willingness to just put the matter past them was the most effective way to ease him.
And it was; he regained his attentively at last and looked at her. Once more, he was the calm and collected man she knew and loved. He quietly, almost tentatively, walked after her. He was grateful that she did not think illy of him after their encounter. With some cheer brought back to his spirit, he was her contented companion once more. They did not talk anymore, for fear of anymore 'accidents' happening, but they were feeling more elated than ever.
