DISCLAIMER: WMC was created by James Patterson, adapted to TV by Elizabeth Craft and Sarah Fain. This is for WMC Day, because we totally need more WMC fic in the world no matter what the pairing. I don't know where the fluffiness comes from, okay well I do, but y'all can thank another fandom for that. Thanks to my partner in crime sillyme for the quick read over. I'm dedicating this to demeter94 for keeping the WMC torch alive!
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Because You Love Me
By carpesomediem


"What is that?" Cindy raised an eyebrow suspiciously at the wrapped present Lindsay had dropped on her desk. It had startled Cindy, causing her to jump slightly in her chair until she felt the older woman's hand on her shoulder to settle her down. I hate when she does that, Cindy thought. She's like a ninja. A really hot ninja that wears leather instead of…

"It's a present," was all Lindsay said bringing Cindy out of her reverie. Lindsay shrugged and looked around the busy newsroom.

"A present?" Cindy responded skeptically. "What type of present are we talking about?"

"The type you open," Lindsay rolled her eyes. "What type of present do you think it is?"

"Knowing you, it could be a bomb," Cindy whispered. The last she needed was to start a chain reaction at The San Francisco Register that culminated in her being fired for causing a riot via a false bomb threat.

"It's not a bomb!" Lindsay exclaimed, startling the few reporters surrounding Cindy in their cubicles.

"She's right," Cindy darted up and threw her hands in the air. "She's just being funny. Cops are funny, aren't they, Lindsay?"

"Will you just open the thing already?"

"Okay, okay," Cindy sat back down in her chair. Lindsay made herself comfortable on the edge of her desk and crossed her arms watching the younger woman shake the present a bit. "It's a book, isn't it?"

"How do you do that?" Lindsay asked, scrunching her face.

"I used to wake up early every Christmas morning at home and sneak down into the living room to shake my presents," Cindy immediately began explaining while ignoring Lindsay's frustration. "By the time I was 14, I could correctly guess the type of present based on its size, shape and whether or not it had loose parts."

"I don't even know why I bother trying to surprise you anymore," Lindsay replied.

"Because you love me," Cindy beamed as she began unwrapping the present. She eyed the spine carefully, her jaw dropping slightly. "Barbara Walters' auto-biography? Really? This isn't a joke, is it?"

"No," Lindsay replied slowly. "I just thought… It's Barbara Walters. Don't all you up and coming journalists want to be like her?" Lindsay was at a loss. When she saw the book at Barnes and Noble, she really thought Cindy would appreciate the gesture. Apparently, she was wrong. "I can return it, I can get you something else-"

"-No, no, it's great," Cindy chuckled, flipping through the pages before closing it and setting it on her desk. "I just always wanted to be a little more like Christiane Amanpour than Barbara Walters."

"Barbara plays it safe," Lindsay connected the dots. Why didn't I think of that?

"Christiane does not," Cindy nodded. "But still, I appreciate it. I love you that do things like this for me." She stood, catching Lindsay off guard and quickly reached up for a chaste kiss. "What do you say we get out of here? We have a dinner date."

"We do?"

"Yeah, silly," Cindy shook her head. "I'm taking you out to dinner because I love you. Besides, I know you don't really read anything but case reports. If I gave one of those to you as a surprise, I'm pretty sure you'd have to throw me in jail."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Lindsay smiled.

The End

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