Title: Faux Pas in Four Parts

Authors: CSIClue, Kristen Elizabeth, Mingsmommy, Jenbachand

Rating: M

Pairing: GSR

Spoilers: Through 8x07

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to us.

Authors' Notes: This story came about during a 1hour2write chat session. A story line was posed, and we all wanted to see how it would be written by each other. So we split it into four characters, each of us wrote our piece in an hour, we combined them together...and now we present the story to you! We hope you enjoy it!


Oh I didn't mean to. I really didn't. I'm not that kind of person, or mother even. Sure I've done some really stupid things in my life—more than I care to go into right now—but this one…I have no idea how to make it right.

She came back to me. My baby. My Sara, all tall and gorgeous and too damned thin if you ask me. I'd hoped she would; kept making sure she had my number, kept sending birthday and Christmas cards. I followed some of the cases out of Las Vegas, and bragged a little about her to some friends at my meetings. They listened to me puff about how smart she was, how accomplished.

And I kept hoping she'd come see me. Sara and I, we have a lot to talk about. I know that. I know that she knew that. So I kept hoping and just being where she could find me. And she did, thank God. Showed up on the front porch, one suitcase and one duffle bag in hand, blinking in the light of early morning, looking pretty ragged out, like she'd been crying all night.

So we talked. Oh my GOD did we talk that first day. And we fought, and yelled, and hugged, and I think by the time we both went to bed we each slept for about ten hours straight. Got a hell of a lot out of our systems, you know?

Purging, if I may use a word I don't really like.

Anyway, it was good. I tiptoed around her though—worried she'd just take off on me. I was terrified in those first weeks that Sara would leave without a goodbye. I kept quiet, and hovered a lot. She told me if I kept hovering I'd take off like a UFO eventually.

Anyway. So I learned to relax a little. Get comfortable with my daughter again. THAT took time, but we had plenty of that, she told me.

A few weeks passed. She made phone calls, and I heard about her boyfriend. I also heard that she hates the term 'boyfriend' but doesn't like 'significant other' or 'partner' or 'life mate' or anything else I tried to call this Grissom of hers. I hinted at fiancée, but that made her cry all over again, and after I finished kicking myself I went back to 'boyfriend'.

Lord. She's a strong woman—stronger than I ever was. Got that from her father—probably the best thing that man ever contributed to her makeup. She's got his height too, but my coloring. Where was I? Oh yes, Grissom. Anyway, so she calls him and takes herself off to the bedroom or bathroom and has these looooooong conversations with him. Comes out looking better, but still not completely happy.

So I tell her to invite him up.

And she balks at that, but by now I know how much she loves the man, so I just leave the offer open. Mention it often.

It works. I try not to look TOO smug when she comes in one morning and tells me that we'll be getting another visitor for the weekend. Just nod and ask her if he likes goulash. For the rest of that day, she's happy and nervous and about to drive me nuts while she picks through her closet and the refrigerator.

We were going to pick him up at the airport. I didn't want to go—this was HER sweetheart and all, but she asked me in that quiet voice of hers and I knew Sara was scared. Scared of what, I couldn't say, but I figured their goodbye hadn't been very good, and with me as a buffer…

But he missed his flight due to work and decided to drive instead. Ah well.

She had one picture of him that she'd showed me. Big man—not fat, but solid. Older too, but I'm not in any position to pass judgment. I fell for a rakish younger Bad Boy and you can see all the good it did me. I shouldn't talk ill of the dead, but even after all this time, you can't quite get all the bitterness out.

Grissom though…I could see why my Sara loved him.

Then, later, I REALLY saw why Sara loved him.

Lord, is my face red?

It's the house. The walls are thin, the doors don't really close well because of the sea air warping them, and as I said, I'd gotten comfortable again around Sara. Thought nothing of stepping into her room with clean laundry or to vacuum every now and then. I'd been living on my own for a while—long enough to get a good deal on the house, and so it was really all just a mistake.

I make a lot of those, but this one--

Just want to make it clear that I didn't disapprove. Sex is a beautiful thing, if the people involved are...involved. Doing it because they both want to and need to. I may be a senior citizen, but I've had a few gentlemen friends of my own, so I'm not completely out of touch. I have gotten...some...in my time.

But I'm trying my damnedest to forget just waltzing in on Sara and Grissom after coming home from my therapy appointment, catching them, uh, in a Very Special Moment, as it were. I dropped the towels, nearly tripped over the dog, caught my chin on the door--all the while muttering "Oh God I'm sorrysorrysorry!!"

Sara is going to kill me, and I wouldn't blame her one bit, not this time.

And lord is that man hung. No wonder she was pale when she first showed up.


Once you reach a certain age…let's say past young adulthood…there are juvenile embarrassments that you should be over and done with. I include such things as acne flare-ups, random erections and your mother finding your porn collection in this statement, although there's a whole list of examples…events from which I believed that my fifty-plus years on the planet exempted me.

But the universe has a sense of humor, whether you want to believe it's God smiting you or karma biting you in the ass. Just when you think you're past all of that, you get a pimple, or you find yourself adjusting the crotch of your pants at a crime scene.

Or your girlfriend's mother walks in on you in flagrante.

I suppose I should have seen it coming. Not that particular twist, perhaps, but it did seem like a reunion with Sara after so many lonely months couldn't go off without a single hitch.

On the drive from Vegas, I'd gone over all the things I wanted to say to her, over and over again in my head. It was a script I'd memorized, the perfect prose to tell her everything I'd been feeling since the moment Judy handed me that letter. I would woo Sara back into my arms, and once she was there, I would not let her go.

So of course, when she opened her mother's door and stood there looking so unbelievably beautiful…her hair in waves, longer around her shoulders, her cheeks rosy like she was getting plenty of fresh air, her smile so full of surprised delight…I forgot every single word.

Not that I would have gotten to use any of them. Sara's a woman who puts her whole body and soul into a kiss, and the one she gave me right then more than made up for the last one in the lab hallway. I felt devoured, and I loved it.

Hank barked at our feet, demanding that I let go of her, so she could pay him the attention he deserved. But even though Hank and I had been partners in misery the past few months, I had no intention of sharing Sara with him for a good long while. At least not until I'd rememorized every tiny detail about her, from the smell of her hair to the sound of her laugh to the taste of her skin.

We left him with a rawhide chew toy; even excited and hyper, he was still a good dog and could be trusted in the house alone. Sara pulled me towards what I assumed was her bedroom. Our lips remained locked as much as possible, only breaking apart when it was necessary to take a breath or make sure we didn't trip over anything.

I didn't have time to ask where her mother was. Even if I'd remembered she existed right then.

In the bedroom, she tore off my shirt. I yanked hers over the top of her head. She undid my belt. I fumbled with the hook of her bra. Her whole body was hot…my life-sized heater, I'd called her once, to which she'd laughed.

It had been so cold since she left.

We fell onto the chintz bedspread, kicking our jeans away. I had every intention of taking my time, but Sara had other ideas. I decided to go along with her. Round two could be slow and sweet.

She barely let me pull off my shorts before she was stroking me. Next thing I knew, I was sliding back inside the only woman I'd ever loved, and she still feels the same…so goddamn good that I might not mind dying if I could pass away right there. I kissed her when she winced slightly…it had been too long for me, too.

It was right then, as we were getting used to the feeling of each other again, that the door opened. Without any pause…without any chance for us to cover ourselves…Sara's mom entered with a load of clean towels, and Hank hot on her heels.

I wonder what she must have thought, seeing me lying between her daughter's thighs, my white butt on display, clothes strewn everywhere. I know I felt like I was thirteen years old, and I'd just been caught masturbating in the bathroom. I hadn't liked it then, and I didn't like this now.

First impressions are so very important. At least I'd just made one on Laura Sidle that would be impossible to forget.


"Oh, god! I'm sorry, sorry, sorry!"

Grissom's ass was not the first impression I wanted Mom to have of her future son-in-law, but, hey, it is one of his best features.

The door closed. Quickly. Audibly.

If I weren't so damn embarrassed, it would probably be funny that the first time my mom "caught" me with "a boy" was when I was thirty-six and the "boy" was fifty-one. I'm not sure if that makes it any better, though.

And I don't know who I feel worse for, Gil or Mom. Well, actually I should probably feel the worst for me…I was already so close and it was going to be a good one too, I could tell.

He's redder than I've ever seen him; his cheeks are actually giving off heat. From the look on his face I have the feeling I won't be having sex for awhile. At least without a four part notarized affidavit stating we are the only people in the building.

Maybe even the entire state.

I am trying really hard not to smile at the look of complete mortification on his face.

I've missed him. A lot. And not just the sex…though obviously by taking the risk of being caught in flagrante majorly delicto, by MY MOTHER, it must be pretty obvious I was missing the sex. But I have missed everything about him. Everything. I missed his smell, his clean smell and his sweaty smell. I missed his smooth voice and his calloused hands. I missed his poetic quotes and his goofy jokes. The way he held me…he has this warm, sure embrace that was always so soothing, no matter what was going on.

I missed his kisses. Jesus, Mary and Joseph that man can kiss…it's not just a press of lips on lips when he kisses…it's full body, mind and soul participation. It's like a religious experience and a drug rolled into one.

I told him in my note that he was the only home I've ever known. And when I saw him, when he wrapped his arms around me, it was like coming home after a hard journey. Familiar warmth, comfort, love…when I'm with Gil, it's the only time I can just BE. There is no fear, no pretense, no anger, no neediness. I just am who I am and it is all I've ever wanted. He gives me that. And that he still wants me after everything? That feels nothing short of a miracle.

So, when I start kissing him and he starts kissing me back and it's been four months since I've seen him, touched him, smelled him, kissed him, tasted him or made love to him? Well, it doesn't take a biologist to tell me where we were headed or that we were headed there pretty damned fast. I think we set a world's record for undressing…

This room seriously smells like sex.

OK, how am I going to handle this?

"Gil, meet Laura Sidle, my mother and the woman who killed my father. Mom, meet Gil Grissom, my fiancé and the man who you just walked in on pumping away at your daughter."

Yeah. I can't wait to answer the question, "Did Grissom like meeting your mother?"

Oh, he had a ball. He was nuts about her.

I suppose we could just sneak out the back and I could not see my mother for another twenty years, but that seems a little drastic. Though from the look on Gil's face, drastic is just what he's looking for.

I keep telling myself this is ridiculous. We're all three adults. Mom and I have certainly lived through more scandalous things, even though not quite as embarrassing.

OK, so, calm honesty. I'll just go face my mother and we'll all apologize and eventually, the embarrassment will fade, right?

If all else fails, I'll just remind her where grandbabies come from.


There I was.

There I was.

There I was.

Um, yeah, there I was stretched out on the cool tile in the Place of New Smells, happily chewing my way through a huge rawhide. It was good, like only good rawhide can be, and was helping me work off my frustration from being cooped up in the car with Dad for a whole day.

Not that riding with the windows down and getting to pee on new things wasn't fun, but it was a really long ride.

But Dad had been so excited the whole trip. Talking about seeing Mom, though he calls her Sara, but I know who slips me the extra food and it sure isn't the big man. So she's Mom and by default, that makes him Dad.

Back to the trip though. He came home from his place of many chemicals and rotting stuff, packed his clothes, washed my bowls and gave a whistle.

"We're going on a road trip boy," he said and opened up the door of the car for me.

And I only sicked-up once, but it was while he was out of the car, so I don't think he's found it yet.

So after a long time in the car, several bowls of water, and peeing on all sorts of interesting things, we were here. In the Place of New Smells. And Mom was here. And I was so happy I started barking and wagging my tail so much my butt wiggled. She was kissing Dad and laughing, which was something she didn't do much of before she went away.

Dad wouldn't quit licking her (I know, they call it kissing, but they use their tongues); I tried telling them they needed to stop so Mom could scratch my ears (her nails are the best for it) but they weren't stopping.

They'd done this before, all the time, really. I get a chew toy; they lick their way to the bedroom. It's okay. They never really forget about me.

So that's how I wound up in the kitchen, chewing my rawhide and eyeing a nice old leather shoe that's sitting by the back door. Maybe just a quick sniff.

The back door opened and a New Person came in quickly. She smelled a little like Mom. Looked a little like her, too. I barked, but only once. It wasn't my house, but I couldn't just not protect it.

"You must be Hank." I licked her hand. "Are they out talking a walk or something?" she asked me. But she didn't wait for me answer.

I followed her into the living room. There were towels on the couch, all folded up. If I'd known that, I might have helped unfold them. I like doing that at home.

New Person Who Looked Like Mom picked up the towels. I followed her again…she was heading for the room Mom and Dad were in! I tried to warn her with a quick bark, I really did, but she didn't understand.

"Oh God! I'm sorry…sorry…sorry!!"

The door was already open so I stuck my head inside. It was embarrassing what Mom and Dad would do to each other. And not just on the furniture or the table, but sometimes even the bath tub. Who would want to get clean and dirty at the same time?

"Well," she said when were back in the living room and she'd sat down on the couch. I guess she was talking to me, so I wagged my tail and listened. "That wasn't part of my weekend plans for all of us."

She let out a laugh and scratched my ears just the way Mom does. "It's good though. I'm just glad to have her back in my life. And happy now. Happier than she's been since she got here." She stopped for a second. "I'm glad you two came."

She sat there and petted me some more. My leg was just starting to twitch, it felt so good, when she stood up. "Think they've got their clothes on yet?"

My snort let her know my thoughts on the matter.

Mom and Dad came out of the bedroom smelling sweaty. They weren't even touching each other. It was really quiet for a minute until the New Person started laughing. I guess that made it all right because then Mom started laughing, too. Just a little bit. Dad didn't laugh, but he did start holding Mom's hand.

I went back into the kitchen. They could talk about human stuff.

Me, I had a lot of rawhide left to be chewed.

And maybe, while they weren't looking, an old leather shoe.