Grissom didn't know what to expect when meeting Sara's mother. He told Sara to keep an eye out whilst he got their luggage from the carousel, and so missed the actual sight of Sara's mother.
"Ah, this must be Gil Grissom," came a soft deep voice.
"I told you he was a gentleman," Sara insisted, obviously referring to the fact that he had collected their luggage.
Grissom turned around to face the two women, but Sara came to stand by his side, a hand resting on his sleeve. He held his right hand out for Sara's mother to shake, but she brushed it aside, stepping up to him and giving him a hug. She was roughly the same height as Sara, making her an inch shorter than Grissom. He could tell that Sara had inherited her mother's eyes and mouth, both being big when they smiled, but her face had less of the intensity of Sara's. She stood with none of Sara's vulnerable gait, striking the pose of a self-assured woman.
"Gil, in our family, we hug by way of greeting." She let go of Grissom and looked at Sara. "Nice big arms," she said with a smile. "You know how to pick 'em," she added.
Sara cringed, but Grissom smiled back, bending to pick up their bags. "Thank you for allowing me to stay, Mrs Sidle," he said as they began to walk to the airport exit.
"Please, Gil, call me Laura," she insisted, hanging back to speak with Sara.
The two women hugged, but Grissom could tell that Sara was slightly uncomfortable, and didn't doubt for a second that Laura could sense her daughter's uncertainty. "How have you been, mom?" Sara asked, relinquishing her grip, and trying to get her bag of Grissom.
Grissom refused. "What sort of guy would I be if I didn't carry your bags?" he asked.
"Baggage, more like," she whispered under her breath. "I wanted to hold your hand," she said aloud, and Grissom knew she wasn't entirely happy with being here.
"I don't ever think I've heard anything sweeter," Laura commented. "But if I've got this right, you two aren't actually together, right?"
"Mom," Sara hissed through clenched teeth, feeling more calm as Grissom caressed her hand with his fingers.
Laura laughed. "I'm doing the whole 'mom' thing," she said. "It's my duty to embarrass you." She unlocked the trunk of the car, and Grissom once again took Sara's luggage, stowing the cases away.
"You don't have to keep doing that, you know," Sara insisted somewhat defensively.
"You should be happy to have a guy who wants to be chivalrous." This came from Laura, but Grissom understood the problem. By overcompensating in his efforts, he might make Sara out to look weak, something she wasn't, and he didn't particularly want that.
"It's okay, I understand," he said softly, smiling softly at Sara. She replicated the gesture, looking slightly less apprehensive than when she had gotten off the plane.
Although Grissom had wanted to sit next to Sara in the back, he reluctantly allowed her to bundle him into shotgun position next to Laura. They all ended up making small talk, discussing Vegas weather and some of the team's more recent, less grisly crimes. Laura could gather from the way that Grissom spoke of her daughter, he thought a lot of her, and was immensely proud of her.
Sara had not been lying when she said that the residential area wasn't prime - it was not far enough inside LA to be called inner-city, but it had an air of menace about it that unsettled Grissom.
"You live here on your own" he asked. "Is it safe for a woman to stay here by herself?"
Laura shrugged, killing the car's ignition. "Sara's already told me that you know about what happened with her father, so you can see that I'm not a pushover. I can handle myself."
Grissom exchanged a look with Sara and stepped away from the trunk, unhappily so, to allow her to gain access to her luggage..
The apartment itself was warm and comfortable, at distinct odds with the run-down neighbourhood outside, and he could see where Sara had gotten her taste for organisation. This apartment however, was less aesthetically pleasing than Sara's, with all of her drapes and books and assorted odds and ends. In here, there were two large comfortable couches, one or two bookshelves, and a television. The kitchen housed basic appliances, and the bathroom a shower, sink and toilet.
The spare room had been freshly made, clean bed linen and flowers being the dominating theme. Laura had placed several candles in various nooks and crannies around the room, and so the smell of clean and fragranced things threatened to overpower him.
He stuck the bags in one corner of the room, Sara squeezing in behind him. "I'll take the floor," he said, patting Sara's shoulder.
"Gris, I couldn't ask you to do that," she protested.
"And you didn't. I don't care if you don't want me to carry your bags, I refuse to allow you sleep on a floor." He turned her so that she faced him, and raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"
Sara's chest heaved, and she nodded mutely. "Just a bit overwhelmed."
Grissom nodded, understanding. "We should get some sleep. You want me to say goodnight to your mom for you?"
Sara gestured in affirmation.
When Grissom came back in, Sara was already between the covers. "She okay?"
He nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. "Yeah. She's really glad to see you," he said. "Excuse me while I sit on the floor, I wouldn't want to subject you to a view of me without my trousers on," he added, grinning slightly.
"Shame, I wouldn't mind," Sara admitted. She rolled over onto her stomach. "I know you and your knees, are you sure you don't want the bed?"
Grissom stood, having managed to change into a pair of pyjama shorts. "Even if I did, you're there now. I don't have the heart to throw you out."
"Who said anything about me moving?" Sara asked breathlessly.
She wasn't expecting him to take the bait, and so was surprised when she felt him slid between the covers. "Don't dare me, Sara," he warned, slipping an arm around her. "Don't worry," he comforted her. "I'm gonna do anything. You just look like you could use some company."
Sara turned her back to him. "I'm not being rude, I just find it hard to face someone when I sleep."
"'s okay," he whispered, and Sara could feel his lips brush against her shoulder. "Have a good sleep, okay? If you need me, just wake me up." He snaked an arm underneath hers, resting it on her stomach.
"You know, for a non-relationship, this is awfully suggestive, don't you think?" She linked hands with the one laying on her middle.
"Maybe," he answered obliquely. "Just get some sleep, honey."
"'Night, then."