AN: Time for Thanksgiving – please note that I am from Sweden and have never celebrated Thanksgiving, so if anything seems off, that's probably why – you can only get so far with research. Oh, and as usual, thanks to WalkerTRngr for the beta help!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI
Chapter 11
To say that Sara's nervous when she drives the short distance to the Grissom house just after noon on Thanksgiving Day is such an understatement it feels like a flat-out lie. She learned a little ASL before Grissom left for Williamstown, enough to say 'hi' and 'how do you do', basically. When she found out Betty was coming for Thanksgiving, she decided to brush up on her – these days pretty much non-existent – skills and found some good resources online. So far, she's only copied the videos in front of a mirror, though, not tried anything out on an actual person, so she has no idea if she's doing anything right.
Not that she needs Betty Grissom's approval or anything, especially considering there's nothing for her to approve of. The prospect of finally meeting her in person is still just a tiny bit terrifying.
Grissom opens the door with a 'Kiss the cook' apron and a dishtowel slung over one shoulder, and for a moment, she considers following the instructions.
"Hi," he greets her with a smile, breaking the moment that was all in her head. "Come on in."
She toes off her shoes and takes her coat off before taking Hank's leash off and following him into the kitchen, putting the pie she brought in the fridge. "I've never been much for the savory pies," she says as she closes the fridge again. "So I got a pecan, I hope that works? Nobody's allergic, right?"
"Nope, no allergies," he confirms. "And I'm making a sweet potato pie. You don't have to eat it if you don't like it, though."
"I thought you weren't making any pies?"
"I said I wasn't baking – this is cooking," he reasons.
She rolls her eyes. "Now you're just mincing words."
His laugh is interrupted by the sound of Hank's nails on the kitchen floor, and Sara turns to see the dog, closely followed by Sam.
"Sara!"
She manages to catch the whirlwind storming through the kitchen just in time. "Hey, kiddo." She hugs the girl tight for a moment. "You having a good Thanksgiving so far?"
"Uh-huh. Grandma and I are watching the dog show downstairs, and there are a lot of weird looking dogs! You want to come watch with us?"
Sara gives Grissom a questioning look, but he practically shoos her out of the kitchen. "Go, you're no good to me anyway."
So, she follows Sam down the stairs to the den, trying to push away the nerves. Hank comes thundering after them, immediately flopping down in front of the TV.
Betty Grissom is seated on the large couch, focused on a cell phone in her hands. Sam climbs onto the couch next to her, which draws her attention to the fact that she has company again. Sam speaks at the same time as she signs to her grandmother. "Grandma, this is Sara."
The smile on Betty's face when she turns to Sara seems sincere, and there's no moment of surprise or confusion, so she assumes Grissom has told his mother that they're friends again and that she would be coming today.
She raises her hands and actually manages to remember the correct signs, copying Sam and speaking as she signs. "Hi, it's nice to meet you."
Betty smiles even wider, her hands coming up to return the sentiment. "Finally," she adds at the end, after glancing at Sam to make sure she's focused on the TV again, eyes twinkling.
Sara's not entirely sure how to respond to that, so she gratefully sits down on Sam's other side when the girl gestures at her.
She doesn't quite relax, but it's still nice, listening to Sam's commentary on the dogs on the screen, occasionally exchanging amused glances with Betty at the girl's excitement.
If more regular interaction with Betty is in her future, she could probably do that.
The dog show gives way to a rerun of the Macy's parade, and when that's done, Sara makes her excuses and goes back upstairs to the kitchen.
"How's it going?" she asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Grissom closes the oven door and turns to her. "I think the turkey needs another half an hour or so, I was actually just about to call Sam to come set the table."
"I can do that," she tells him. "Do you have any fancy dishes, or just the regular ones?"
"Just the regular ones," he replies. "But you don't have to do that – you're the guest."
"I don't mind. Seriously," she adds at his raised eyebrow, opening the appropriate cabinet. "Besides, your mom and Sam are having fun watching some Thanksgiving specials. And it'll take, like, five minutes."
"Fine," he sighs, turning to the stove to stir something. "I've learned when there's no point in arguing with you."
"Damn straight!"
There's already some fall appropriate decorations on the table – Sara suspects Sam must have done them at school, and they're adorable. Grissom has put in the leaf, so all the food will fit, but she sets up the plates and cutlery in the middle, two on each side, and figures they can put the food at each end.
"Should I start bringing food over?" she asks when she's happy with the arrangements, and he nods.
"There are trivets in that drawer."
She gets them out and set out on the table before moving to the kitchen counter, where there are a number of dishes covered in aluminum foil. She leaves the foil on for the moment, so the food'll stay warm until the turkey is done, and finishes off with as many serving spoons and forks she can find.
"Anything else?"
"There are deviled eggs and a green bean salad in the fridge," Grissom replies.
"How many people are coming again?" she teases, finding the two dishes.
"I know, I know – we'll have leftovers for days."
"Try weeks. OK, I'm just going to run to the ladies' room real quick."
When she returns, he's extracting the large turkey from the oven, and Sara has to admit that it smells heavenly. Not quite good enough for her to consider eating meat again, but still really good.
She starts taking the foil off the dishes she's already placed on the table, but pauses after the second one. "You… made me tofurkey?"
He frowns at her from where he's putting the turkey down. "Um, yeah… you like it, right? I remember you made it when… when we…"
"Yeah," she interrupts his attempt at finding the right words. "I do, but you didn't have to go to all that trouble. There's plenty of sides, I would have been fine with those."
Grissom shrugs, avoiding her eyes. "It's Thanksgiving."
It's not an explanation, of course. But it's enough.
"Thank you," she says quietly, and he finally looks up again, their eyes meeting across the table. For a moment, everything else falls away, and for a split second, she's so sure he's going to round the table and kiss her senseless.
Then he looks away. "Of course. I'll, uh… go get Sam and Mom so we can eat, OK?"
She just nods as he disappears out into the hallway, letting out a long breath when she hears his steps going down the stairs.
It's for the best, she tries to tell herself. She's still not entirely sure starting something again is a good idea. If they are going down that road again, she doesn't want to rush anything.
By the time Sam's excited chatter precedes the trio into the kitchen, Sara's managed to pull herself together and fixed the last things at the table.
"Wow!" Sam exclaims as she enters the room and sees all the food. "There's so much food!"
Grissom chuckles behind her, nudging her forward. "Then we'd better dig in."
To Sara's huge surprise, he rounds the table to her side, leaving Sam to sit with her grandmother opposite them. He even pulls out the chair for her. "Thanks," she says, a little confused, getting a soft smile in return before he sits himself.
"We have to give thanks first," Sam points out, her hands freezing in mid-air. "I don't know how to say that."
Grissom shows her, and she repeats the motions a couple of times.
"Why don't you go first?" he then suggests, and Sam nods.
"I'm grateful for… Dad, and Grandma, and Nana and Pop-pop, and for my new friends, and for getting a pool." Grissom interprets for his mother as she speaks, and they all laugh at that one. "And for Sara and Hank," the girl finishes with a smile in Sara's direction, and she has to swallow down a lump. "OK, Grandma, your turn."
Betty signs and, again, Grissom interprets. "I'm grateful for having my family near again, and for new friends."
Sara's sure the final part is, again, meant for her, and returns Betty's smile.
"Now you, Dad," Sam orders, and Sara's relieved to be going last.
"Hmm…" Grissom frowns for a moment. "I am grateful for you, kiddo. And for… second chances."
His knee nudges hers under the table, and she nudges back.
"That's it?" Sam asks, sounding a little disappointed.
"That's it," he confirms.
"OK, Sara, your turn."
"I am grateful for… family and friends, I know that's a cliché, but it's still true," she starts. "I'm grateful for the time I get to spend with my loved ones, and for being able to help people. I'm grateful for… new beginnings." She hopes Grissom picks up on her words as a continuation of his 'second chances'.
Sam focuses on another part of her speech, though.
"Where is your family?" she asks with a frown.
"Sam, that's not polite," Grissom chides her.
"No, it's OK," Sara pipes in. "Well, family doesn't have to be people you're related to by blood. Sometimes, family are the people you choose."
"Oh." For a moment, Sara thinks she might ask something else, but when she continues, it's to ask for turkey.
The rest of the meal is more lighthearted, with Sam leading most of the conversation. As Sara knew, the amount of food left on the table when everyone's completely stuffed is staggering.
"I hope you liked the turkey," Grissom notes as Sam starts clearing the table, "because we'll be eating it for the next week. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
Sam makes a face. "Not breakfast!"
"OK, not breakfast, but definitely lunch and dinner." He gets up and grabs a few dishes, bringing them into the kitchen.
"Hey, stop," Sara objects. "You did all the cooking, let me and Sam handle the cleanup. Go relax with your mom."
He looks torn for a moment, but then smiles. "OK, thanks."
Betty is looking between them, a little confused, and he turns to relay what they said. She frowns and signs something, and even without understanding, Sara knows what she wants to say.
"I insist," she says, enunciating so Betty can read her lips. "Go, relax. Make sure he sits down for more than five minutes."
A smile blooms on the older woman's face and she gives Sara a thumbs up. Grissom just rolls his eyes before guiding his mother out of the room.
"Your dad has trouble just relaxing, huh?" Sara says amusedly as she joins Sam at the table, stacking dishes to bring into the kitchen.
"Oh yeah. He literally can't sit on the couch with me without having, like, a book to read," the girl agrees. "Even when we went to Disney World with Nana and Pop-pop last year, he had, like, five big books he read on the plane and at the hotel."
"But he didn't bring them to the park at least?" Honestly, she wouldn't put it past him. She can almost see one of those photos they take during rides with Grissom with his nose in a book. On the other hand, he also loves rollercoasters.
"No, he didn't. He went on a bunch of rides with me, it was a lot of fun."
"I bet."
They work in silence for a moment, bringing all the dishes from the table to the kitchen counter. When step one has been completed, Sara places her hands on her hips. "OK, where do you keep the Tupperware?"
Sam frowns. "What's Tupperware?"
"Storage containers, like lunch boxes," Sara explains.
"Oh. They're here." The girl opens a large drawer and starts extracting plastic containers.
Another ten minutes, and they have the leftovers boxed up and in the fridge or freezer.
"So, when you said that you can decide which people are your family," Sam starts as Sara's rinsing plates and handing them to her to put in the dishwasher, "what did that mean? Like, who's your family?"
Sara takes the moment offered by rinsing off the plate in her hands to consider. "Well, when I came to Vegas, the only person I knew here was your dad."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh. But when I started at the lab, I met a whole bunch of people who… they accepted me for who I was and I know that if I ever need anything, they'd help me, no questions asked. So that's my family."
Sam is silent for a long moment as the dishwasher fills up. "Could I… be your family too?" she then asks, voice hesitant.
Sara feels like she should have been prepared for the question, but she really, really wasn't. Luckily, she doesn't freeze, like she sometimes does when she's surprised. Instead, she quickly wipes her hands on a dish towel and wraps an arm around Sam's shoulders. "You already are, kiddo."
For some reason, the underbelly of Las Vegas seems to really come to life after the Thanksgiving holiday. Sara can't remember the last time they were this busy – Ecklie even clears her for more overtime for the last few days of the month, even though she's already maxed out, and she pulls doubles almost every day between the day after Thanksgiving and the second week of December.
Which, unfortunately, means very little time with Grissom – he gets called in on a few cases, none of which she works, so they just pass each other in the hallways – and no time at all with Sam. She hadn't realized she'd gotten so used to seeing both of them on a regular basis until she can't, and she doesn't like it.
So, when a new week rolls around with only two new cases, both burglaries, and Catherine tells her in no uncertain terms to not show her face until her next scheduled shift tomorrow as they leave the lab on time for the first time in ages, Sara figures she might actually be able to get her Grissom fix.
Not working a double for the first time in weeks and I have tonight off – whatever will I do with myself?
She sends off the text before getting in her car to drive home from the lab, and by the time she pulls into the garage, she has a message waiting.
The best I can offer is food and a children's movie
She smiles as she types out a reply.
Taken. Seven?
Perfect
Sam opens the door when she gets there, a big smile appearing on her face. "Hi Sara. Come in."
"Thank you." She steps through the door and toes her shoes off.
"What are you doing on Friday?"
She pauses in the middle of shrugging out of her jacket at the unexpected question. "Besides working? Nothing. Why?"
Sam shrugs. "Dad has some work thing and he said he'd call Amber, but if you can come over, he doesn't have to!"
Sara takes the time to hang her jacket on a peg on the wall as she considers, but it's not like she minds spending a Friday night hanging out with Sam, even without Grissom.
"Sure," she agrees. "If he says it's OK."
"Of course he will," Sam assures her before tugging her along into the kitchen, where Grissom is preparing what looks like lasagna. "Dad! Sara's coming over on Friday, so Amber doesn't have to watch me."
He looks up from his task and frowns at them. "She is?"
"I am." Sara offers a smile. "Hi."
"Hi. Sam, I told you I would call Amber, you didn't need to… railroad Sara into agreeing."
The girl pouts. "I didn't."
"She didn't, really," Sara steps in. "I don't have any plans, I'm happy to hang out with her while you're… what are you doing?"
"Formal Christmas party for the whole university," Grissom explains with a sigh.
"I can tell that you're really looking forward to it," she teases.
"Is it that obvious?" He offers a sheepish smile. "I know it's a part of the academic world, but it's a part I wouldn't mind getting out of."
"Dad doesn't like getting dressed up," Sam informs her smugly. "He says he looks like a penguin."
Grissom glares at her. "Thanks for the commentary."
She just beams back. "Can I go watch TV until dinner's ready?"
"Yeah, get out of here."
She darts away from the wooden spoon he pretends to swat her with, giggling as she disappears in the direction of the stairs.
"Sorry," Sara offers when she's gone. "Should I have checked with you first? I figured you wouldn't mind not having to pay the babysitter…"
"No, no, it's fine," he assures her, turning to put the dish in the oven. "I just… I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me, that's all."
"Oh." It hadn't occurred to her.
"You probably dodged a bullet," he admits, turning back to her with a sheepish look on his face. "It's going to be a lot of schmoozing."
"Yeah, doesn't sound like much fun." A night on the couch with Sam is more appealing, but still… she never could resist Grissom in a tux, and if she remembers correctly, he has a soft spot for her in formal wear as well. "Well, I already promised Sam I'd hang out with her, but maybe next time you have a boring, formal work thing you don't want to go to, ask me before you tell her about it?"
A smile appears on his face. "I'll do that."
"I do have work, though, do you know how late you'll be?" she cautions him.
"That's even better," Grissom replies, making her frown. "If anyone calls me on leaving early, I can honestly tell them that I have to relieve the babysitter."
She has to snort at that. "Well, glad I can help. When do you need me?"
"The dinner's at seven, so I should probably leave by six fifteen or so," he muses.
"So, I need to feed Sam too?"
He gives her a dark look. "I'll make sure there's something you can just heat up."
"You know, your distrust in my cooking skills is getting a little offensive," Sara notes, keeping her voice teasing.
He chuckles. "Are you forgetting that you once managed to set a toaster on fire?"
"OK, that was not my fault!" she exclaims. "There was something wrong with that toaster and you know it. Kitchen appliances do not just catch fire like that."
He just laughs as he goes to check on the lasagna. "If you're such a great cook, why don't you make the salad?"
"You mean you trust me not to cut off any fingers?"
"I believe in your instinct of self-preservation."
"I wasn't talking about mine…"
The lasagna is delicious, as always, and if Sara says so herself – and she does – her salad is pretty good too.
After dinner, Sam graciously lets Sara pick what movie to watch, and knowing that Sam loves it, she decides on The Golden Compass. The movie is a little long, though, and the girl dozes off fifteen minutes or so before the credits start rolling across the screen.
Sara lingers on the couch as Grissom goes with Sam upstairs to make sure she brushes her teeth. She flips through the channels absentmindedly, eventually landing on some old, black and white holiday movie she recognizes vaguely, while her mind whirs.
"She's out like a light," Grissom announces when he returns five minutes later.
"Well, she usually is on swimming nights," she notes, the knowledge of their routines second nature by now.
"True." He slumps down in the spot he vacated earlier, and for a moment, she considers closing the space between them. It's been getting worse, lately, the need to be close to him. She's not sure how long she'll be able to resist, or if she wants to, if she's honest.
"So, I just realized we're halfway through December already," she says instead, turning her attention back to the TV.
"How did you miss that?" he asks incredulously. "The city's been decked out in holiday cheer for weeks!"
"It's Vegas – it's always flashy," Sara defends herself. "And the last few weeks for me have been sleep, drive to work, work, drive home, repeat. I barely knew what day it was."
"OK, yeah, that's a pretty good excuse," he admits. "I definitely remember waking up and realizing weeks had gone by without me noticing on more than one occasion when I was at the lab."
"Exactly." She pauses, considering whether to bring it up or not. Sam invited her to Thanksgiving, but she hasn't said anything about Christmas, so if she wants to know, it's up to Sara. "So, do you and Sam have plans for Christmas?"
"We do, actually," he replies. "Since we did Thanksgiving here with Mom this year, we're going to Boston to celebrate Christmas with Andrea's parents and her brother and his family. Then we're spending a few days in Williamstown, so Sam can see her friends, and then back to Boston for New Years before flying back here on January first."
It feels a little like getting cold water dumped over her. "Oh," she manages to get out. "That sounds like fun."
She's always worked Christmas. Well, except for that one year when she and Grissom actually both had two days off in a row and spent them in front of a fire in a cabin at Lake Mead – and they didn't get around to opening presents until late in the evening on Christmas Day. She usually wants to work Christmas, isn't really interested in all the fuss surrounding the holidays, but, well… after Thanksgiving, she thought that maybe celebrating Christmas would be nice. If she got to celebrate it with her favorite people.
"Sam loves her grandparents, and they adore her. When we moved back here, I promised I'd make sure they got to see her as much as possible," Grissom continues, unaware of her inner turmoil. "And they're good people, so it's not a hardship or anything. Brian… I don't know if he didn't believe Andrea when she told him I didn't know about Sam, but he's always been a little stand-offish, so I'm not looking forward to that part."
"Yeah, I know all about awkward holidays," she offers.
He turns to her, eyes too piercing. "I'm sure you do. I… are you working?"
"Yeah," she confirms quickly. "I do have Christmas Day off, but I was thinking about offering to cover for Riley, she was a little disappointed to have to work since her parents will be in town."
It's true, or, well, the part about Riley being disappointed is, anyway. She hadn't thought about offering to work, since she had been hoping to have plans of her own, but if she doesn't, she might as well work.
"You don't have to do that just because you don't have any plans, you know," he tells her gently.
Sara offers a smile that's mostly sincere. "I know. She has New Year's Eve off, though, so if we trade, at least I won't have to deal with all the drunk tourists."
"Well, when you put it like that," he agrees with a chuckle, and she lets it wash away her own disappointment.
So, she won't get the Christmas she was quietly hoping for. She still gets plenty of evenings like this, and that's more than enough.