TITLE: A Conversation with Cindy About Cindy Stuff
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. (Well, not anymore. Jackasses.) I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

“So is Jill in felony trouble or is it more of a misdemeanor?”

“The next time I see her, I intend to annihilate her,” Lindsay responded, completely serious.

Cindy laughed, and Lindsay looked up across the top of Cindy’s menu. The dim light reflected off of Cindy’s glasses, the ones that Lindsay rarely ever saw her in, and Lindsay experienced something truly gripping, which normally might have unsettled her, but tonight wasn’t all that startling.

“Annihilation seems kind of extreme. You’re going to miss her when she’s gone,” Cindy lobbied on Jill’s behalf, finally lowering her menu and pulling off her glasses. She glanced up, her face instantly warping to concern. “Linds, are you okay?”

Lindsay couldn’t say with any certainty what she was. She couldn’t say anything. All she knew for sure was she could sit there watching Cindy laugh in her glasses for several hours without blinking. When she didn’t answer, Cindy reached across the table, her small hand covering Lindsay’s. Lindsay was unnaturally conscious of where each one of Cindy’s fingertips were resting against her skin, but, thankfully, her resulting sigh was only audible inside her head. Feeling rather daring, Lindsay turned her hand up beneath Cindy’s, capturing warm digits in her grip, and unhurriedly ran her thumb over Cindy’s knuckles.

“Your hand is dry,” she unconsciously murmured.

Cindy jerked her hand back as if Lindsay had just threatened to dip it into acid, and dug in her purse, putting her glasses away before pulling out a small tube of lotion, seeming rather relieved to have something else to be doing with her hands.

“I was going through files all day.”

Lindsay watched Cindy rub her hands together, something in Cindy’s highly concentrated gaze bringing a smile to her face. There was simply no way around it. She had a thing for Cindy. It was so totally obvious to her now. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she had every person in her life pointing it out to her. The least that she could do was figure out what it was about Cindy that was giving her such a subliminal hankering.

“What?” Cindy asked, dropping her purse back on the floor and looking up.

Lindsay smiled, which seemed to make Cindy even more uneasy.

“Do you want to get married?”

Cindy promptly choked on the piece of bread she’d just popped in her mouth and took a long drink of water. “What?” she asked, airway finally cleared.

“Do you want to get married?” Lindsay questioned again. “You know, is that something that you really want out of life? To get married?”

The way that Cindy just stared at her, Lindsay was afraid that she’d jumbled the inquiry. But finally Cindy tilted her head slightly, the first indication that she’d even heard her, and responded with a choppy, “Um… uh… could we start with a less complicated question?”

The fact that there was nothing at all complicated about the question meant that there was something complicated about Cindy’s answer, which, until she’d actually heard it, Lindsay didn’t realize was exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Can I take your order?” the waiter reappeared at the table.

“How’s that for less complicated?” Lindsay teased.

Cindy smiled broadly as they gave the waiter their order. As soon as he was gone though, Cindy’s bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and she gnawed on it incessantly while she turned her glass around and around on the table.

Lindsay didn’t know that it was possible, but Cindy had apparently lost her gift of gab. Usually, she found some way to fill silences. But not this time. And if her small nervous gestures were to be believed, the silence was an intensely uncomfortable one for Cindy. Lindsay almost felt guilty for being so at ease in it.

“You like art, right?” she asked.

“Art?” Cindy repeated the word as if she’d never heard it before, before shaking the cobwebs and coming to the conclusion that she did, in fact, know the meaning of the term. “Yes. You know, in general. Modern art… some of it’s decent enough, some of it’s a pile of wadded up newspaper on the floor with a hula hoop around it.”

Lindsay chuckled at Cindy’s no holds barred description. “There’s a big impressionist exhibit coming to the art museum.”

“I know,” Cindy nodded. “I’m surprised that you know.”

“I saw a thing on Jacobi’s desk,” Lindsay shrugged. “And I, uh…” Well, if she was going to go for it, she may as well go for it. “I thought about you.”

“Oh,” Cindy uttered, and the single syllable just hovered for a moment before she found more words. “Thanks. You know, I can probably get tickets through the Life and Arts editor if you want to go.”

Lindsay tried not to smile too broadly. True victory didn’t require much gloating. “Yeah, okay.”

“Hopefully he’ll give me four,” Cindy continued. “Sometimes they’re stingy with the popular event passes.”

Meaning Cindy intended it to be a club outing. Not exactly what Lindsay had in mind, but she’d take what she could get. The arrogant smile that was threatening diminished quickly though.

The waiter delivered their salads and conversation returned to normal, the safe topic apparently freeing Cindy’s tongue. The company was pleasant and the meal was palatable, but Lindsay wasn’t quite fulfilled by the time the waiter dropped the bill on the table. She snatched it before Cindy could get her hands on it and paid the waiter, while Cindy kept insisting that she at least pay for her half.

“Buy me ice cream,” Lindsay compromised as they stepped back out of the restaurant and into the chilly night air. It served to finally stop Cindy from trying to force money on her.

“Okay,” Cindy conceded. “When do you want ice cream?”

“Now.”

“Now?” Cindy’s eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. “Aren’t you more than full?”

“Guess we’ll have to walk it off,” Lindsay nudged her and started walking.

After a second’s hesitation, Cindy fell into step beside her. “Little chilly for a nighttime stroll, don’t you think?”

“Geez, Thomas. Don’t be a wimp.”

Lindsay turned to Cindy, pulling her hands from her pockets and tugging Cindy around by her lapels. Hands moving down the front of Cindy’s coat, Lindsay buttoned her up. She was aware of their positions, oh so aware of the fact that Cindy was within close range, but it all felt remarkably natural. For her at least. Cindy’s suddenly fire red cheeks indicated that she was either very un-okay with Lindsay’s proximity or more than okay with it. Lindsay just wished she knew for sure which one it was.

“Better?” she asked.

Cindy just nodded in response and Lindsay turned away quickly, before she did something irreversible, just in case she was reading everything backwards and upside down. The last thing she wanted to end this night with was a fat lip from Cindy for misreading her signals. Or maybe she was just that scared that she was reading them all perfectly.

“So, you were right. That was great Italian,” she declared. “Now, where can we get great ice cream?”

Cindy pointed in the right direction, and Lindsay was more than happy to follow.

A few laps around the neighborhood and Cindy didn’t merely find room for ice cream. She’d made space for two scoops – one coffee, one pralines and cream – in a chocolate-dipped waffle cone with sprinkles. Lindsay slowly savored her one scoop of plain chocolate in a dish and tried to be subtle in the fact that she was watching Cindy eat her ice cream concoction like she would watch a peep show.

Cindy talked them through their next round of walking, with Lindsay interjecting only often enough to keep her talking, and they traveled randomly up and down streets before finding themselves once again in front of The Register’s building.

“Wow, it’s almost midnight,” Cindy said suddenly.

“Really?” Lindsay asked, following Cindy’s gaze to the two foot clock face on a nearby building, eyes widening in surprise.

“Should we go?” Cindy questioned, motioning to the parking garage.

“Probably,” Lindsay admitted, following Cindy down the path into the garage. “I’m parked near you.”

Cindy’s car came first and she stopped next to it, turning to face Lindsay timidly. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Slow-motion style, Lindsay took a step forward. Fingers tilting Cindy’s chin up, she drew her into a smooth, leisurely kiss. In her mind. In reality, she merely raised her head in a nod of agreement and watched Cindy get into her car.

Cindy started the engine and Lindsay sprang forward immediately, tapping on the driver’s side window. Startled, Cindy put her window down, and Lindsay leaned in, her hands on the door, bringing her face inches from Cindy’s. She didn’t kiss her, but damn did she want to.

“One more thing,” she said.

“Okay,” Cindy replied breathlessly.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

For a moment, Cindy just stared at her as if convinced she’d just taken a spill off her rocker. Then, from somewhere heavenly and completely Cindy, there came a luminous, teeth-baring smile.