Women's Murder Club Drabbles
I Love It That I'm Making You Nervous
"Don't call me Ms. Thomas, it's worse than the laser vision!" Cindy muttered to herself once Lindsay was out of earshot. "Sheesh."
"Why is it worse?"
Cindy jumped, and, with a yelp, dropped the files she was carrying. Make that 'once Lindsay had been supposed to be out of earshot, but wasn't'. "Well, thank you," Cindy grumbled, still mortified that she'd been caught. "Help me at least with these?"
"Sure." Wearing a self-satisfied smile, Lindsay bent to pick up the folders and handed them to Cindy, their hands inevitably touching. "Well?"
"You haven't answered my question... Ms. Thomas."
Murder, club meetings, deadlines. Cindy doesn't need caffeine for the additional thrill when they come together around midnight, but she has a coffee anyway. Jill complains about her boss, Claire shares a family story. Cindy observes Lindsay over the rim of her cup. For once, she feels free to do so, because Lindsay's attention is focused on their friends' narrative. Unlike Cindy's, focusing inwards, on a long-held, irresistible dream. It might never happen, it might, one day, but for now, she's happy to be here and imagine. Until Lindsay turns to her and smiles, and Cindy realizes that the odds have always been in her favor.
"It's almost morning," Cindy says. It's true, there's a hint of daylight on the horizon, and with it comes a small trace of fear. This could be simply a dream, Lindsay thinks, as she's tracing Cindy's bare shoulder with her finger. Cherishing the softness of her skin, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body curled up against Lindsay's. Life is usally demanding more than it gives back. "Not yet," Lindsay whispers back, wanting to stay in the safe netherworld of sensation and fantasy a little while longer, and as always, Cindy understands what Lindsay isn't saying.
A Crack In The Mirror
Feeling safe enough to fall asleep into someone's arms is a luxury that money can't buy. Lindsay wonders how that was even possible when just hours ago, they've been to a battlefield. Lindsay, and the woman beside her who now sighs softly. "I know it's not who you—"
"No. Don't." Lindsay doesn't want to hear the blatant truth in Denise's words. It had been her, at the crime scene, the shooting in an elementary school, and an unfamiliar ME. An unfortunate, or for them, lucky, coincidence that both Jill and Claire are on vacation. Cindy called, from the other side of the world, oblivious. Hearing her voice made the longing grow to the point of pain, but Lindsay didn't tell her about the case.
"Take off your Super Woman cape," Denise had told her. "You're not invincible." Lindsay had stripped down to more than that, inviting her into her home and eventually, her bed. They're not going to tell anybody, ever, because there's a bit of hope that remains.
The Get-Away Box
Jill's always felt the need for a get-away-box, whenever she moves in with someone. She feels safer, knowing that if (when) things don't work out, she can always leave right away, and Claire will have a box of her things to tide her over for a while.
This time, though, when Claire pulls her aside to privately ask about the when's and how's of picking up the box, Jill realizes that she hadn't even thought about it. She smiles at Claire, and explains without doubt or hesitation that there will be no need for a get-away-box this time.
Jill is moving in with Cindy, and she's determined to make sure that she never moves out.
One. Two. Three
One night, spent in a hospital room, listening to you sleep, changed my entire world. I had always believed that my heart was somehow broken, and that love could never dwell within its recesses without turning bitter and poisonous. You changed all that. Watching over you that night, I realised that my love for you had been building, slowly, until it filled me to the brim and made it almost impossible to breath without whispering your name. Not even a kiss had passed between us, but I was more yours than I'd ever been Luke's, or anyone before him. It scared me, more than I can say, but not for the same reasons that had plagued my life up until that point. I was petrified that I was in this alone. That you'd open your eyes and see just a friend.
When you began to wake, I braced myself behind a wall of sarcasm and wit, but as your eyelids fluttered the wall collapsed and I couldn't stop myself from blurting the truth. I love you. Not my most articulate of moments, but certainly my most honest, and for that precious moment of honesty I was rewarded like never before. I love you, too.
One night, two people, three words, and my world was made anew.
It was the briefest of contact, but it was enough. It'd been days since they'd touched one another, hours since they'd really talked. Keeping things under wraps was proving to be hard, but Lindsay didn't realize how much she missed touching someone else until she couldn't touch Cindy. That simple caress of fingertips was enough to set her skin on fire, let her mind wander and briefly betray the promise she'd made: Until they were safe from Kiss Me Not, until he was gone forever, they had to remain a secret. It was the only way to keep Cindy safe.
When it falls apart
"I'm really trying here," she pleads with you.
You turn around, willing to finally walk away forever. You can't do it anymore. "Sometimes, trying just isn't enough."
"No," she admits quietly, reaching out for you.
Her hand is warm on your back; your brain is telling you to go but every muscle in your body is screaming at you to stay, to turn around and just give in another time. Surely, it couldn't hurt more than the last.
"What do you want, Lindsay?" Your question comes out as a broken whisper. You've been doing this back and forth dance for long enough to know her answer.
You shut your eyes tightly, your fingernails digging into the palms of your hands. You want to be strong, do the right thing. You just can't. "It's not enough," you choke out.
"It can be," she argues softly. "I love you."
And with those three words she defeats you and all your convictions again. Turning around, you let her pull you into her arms, holding onto you tightly. You're right back where it all started. One last time. How bad could it really be?
Piece of cake... it's losing her you couldn't bear.
"It's like, me and you..." Lindsay tried explaining but was failing miserably. Not surprisingly, it brought a smile to Cindy's face. The Inspector wasn't known for her use of the English language, but sometimes she managed to get the point across without even trying.
It was written in her body language: The lingering intimate touches, the smirks hidden behind eyes that would chill you to the bone and those smiles when she thought no one else was looking. More often than not these last few weeks, they both fell into those moments and into each other and finally everything came spilling out into the open.
Lindsay was still at a loss for words, and it'd begun to frustrate her. Cindy knew what she was trying to say, but it was more fun letting Lindsay fumble over the words for a while.
"It's just... I don't know how to say this, but you and me... I think you and I should-"
"-Linds, you're looking for a plural," Cindy chuckled. She couldn't take watching Lindsay falter any longer, especially when they were finally on the same page. "If you and I are going to be together, it's a we you're looking for."
"Rumors of my death have been greatly..." Lindsay coughed, as much in pain as denial. "Exaggerated."
Jill smiled at her, gently touching her hand. "As happy as I am to hear your voice, take it easy. Glad to have you back."
Cindy felt like an intruder on this intimate moment, regret like a weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe. What would have been the right thing? Not getting into this relationship with Lindsay when she'd known they had some issues to overcome? Give them time to face said issues, and not run off with the first attractive, caring woman coming her way who happened to be one of Lindsay's - and her own - best friends?
Cindy couldn't tell anymore. All she knew was that she'd made one mistake after another, resulting in hurting those she loved most.
Why hadn't they told their friends? It would have kept that blurry line of friendship and something else between her and Jill much firmer. Too little, too late.
"I'm sorry, I've got to go," she blurted out, fleeing from the room.
Her whole body hurt. Her spine felt like it had been twisted from the endless hours in those uncomfortable chairs, her back a mass of pain. Her heart was beating too hard, painfully. She was shivering uncontrollably from exhaustion and cold.
"She's going to pull through."
The world stopped turning for an instant at the doctor's words. She could just feel the pressure building behind her eyes, and then, beyond her control, the tears streaming down her face, the sensation warm and comforting.
Just like Jill's hand on her back, the gentle touch the only thing that had kept her from losing it the past few hours.
"Can I see her?"
Her voice didn't sound all that bad for someone who was seeing the world through a blurry veil. Her mind was still in dissociation mode about many things... most of them didn't matter all that much in comparison.
"A couple of minutes," the doctor acknowleged. "She needs her rest now."
She let Jill guide her towards the door, felt the grip on her waist tighten when her knees buckled at the sight of the woman in the hospital bed.
"I'm sorry," Cindy whispered, meaning either of them.
The End of Everything
Cindy wondered when it had started. At some time she'd begun to sit in court when there was no reason for her to do so other than watch Jill do her job. Pleased to see her, Jill would smile at her, grateful sometimes, when it was a difficult case. Cindy craved these signs of acknowledgement.
Sometimes, they went for a coffee or drink afterwards. The line to flirting was crossed comfortably and easily. From there, it had only been a matter of time.
Jill slept, arms around her, with a clean conscience. The guilt was Cindy's alone.
Because Jill didn't know, and if she had, tonight would have never turned out this way.
Cindy wanted to turn back time to happier moments when she'd been so sure that she and Lindsay would be good together. They had been, for a too brief time that seemed like an illusion now. A dream come true. And yet she was here, about to ruin everything.
The moment that Jill found out, would be the end of everything, because she wouldn't lie to Lindsay about this.
Held tighter by her fears than by her lover's arms, Cindy prayed for the daylight to never come.
On the AA thinking XXX
She made up for it, in the end. After all the frustration, the teasing, the age jokes, when Lindsay Boxer finally made good on the promise in those bedroom eyes, she paid her debt, with interest. Cindy can still see her, stalking across the floor, those long legs and determined look on her face. Cindy remembered glancing to the right, looking for the object of Lindsay's gaze and feeling her whole body burst into flames when she realized that she was the sole focus of Lindsay's attention. It began there, against the door, slow, sure hands slowly stripping Cindy bare for those attentive, appreciative eyes. The first time was a white-knuckled, hair-pulling, fingernails-drawing-blood fuck against the door that had Cindy screaming as Lindsay showed her just how strong and talented those fingers could be, but Lindsay had a lot to make up for, and they hadn't even gotten to the bedroom yet.
I like the innocent type
"You're too caught up in this case," Jill insisted, and it would have been slightly more stern had Lindsay not been attacking her earlobe at the moment. The brunette's hands were impatiently attacking the zipper on her skirt, and Jill made no real move to help her.
"Well right now, you're too caught up in these clothes," Lindsay replied, finally getting the zipper undone. The skirt fell to the floor and Jill stepped out of it.
"It's not healthy," the blonde continued as Lindsay's hands made their way to her blouse. The inspector had to stop to allow Jill to pull her sweater over her head.
"Jill, can we please save the best friend scolding act for later? I'm trying to make love to you," Lindsay said, looking at her earnestly.
"No, you're trying to screw me so that you can relieve some of the frustration you've gotten from this case," Jill amended, allowing Lindsay to slip her blouse off and unhook her bra.
"You're right," Lindsay agreed, "and you're not making it any easier." As she slipped her hand inside of Jill's panties, the blonde decided that she could wait until after to yell at Lindsay about her work habits.
Lindsay prides herself on being a workaholic. It's the one thing she thinks she has going for her. She eats at the office, sometimes sleeps at the office, and even, on certain special occasions, has sex at the office. Some people, mainly annoying ex husbands, would call this an unhealthy obsession. Lindsay likes to think of it as dedication.
It's this dedication that gives Lindsay flashbacks of the previous night when she approaches her desk in the morning; of a certain redhead perched on top of said desk, head thrown back and fingers gripping the wood as though it were a lifeline. It's also this dedication that has Lindsay telling Jill to check the bottom drawer of that desk when the blonde meets her halfway to the coffee, a large brown stain on her blouse. When Lindsay returns to her desk, coffee in hand, she finds Jill holding up a small pair of lacey black panties.
"Uh, Lindsay... these aren't your size," Jill tells her, though Lindsay is well aware of that already.
"Hmm," Lindsay muses with a shrug, hiding a knowing grin. "Must have been labeled wrong at the store..."
No words necessary
"God. That was so fucking hot!" Jill panted into Lindsay's mouth as they loudly and gracelessly stumbled into the inspector's apartment. "I love it when you go all bad ass on the bad guys." She was shoved against the wall with a thump, stripped of her blouse and on a way to lose her skirt as well. "I know I shouldn't encourage such behavior, seeing how I'm an ADA, you're a cop and IAB would seriously frown upon it-"
"Jill!" Lindsay interjected exasperatedly. "I am trying my best to get in your pants here. Could you shut up for a minute?"
"Of course, inspector." Jill shimmied out of her skirt while Lindsay busied herself with the blonde's brassiere. "Please, proceed."
A stake out
Lindsay told her to sit, stay and be quiet, and Cindy always listened to whatever it was that Lindsay Boxer had to say... or command. No wonder she was being treated like a puppy when she was certainly acting like one.
"Will you ever start treating me like an adult?"
Lindsay cringed. "Shhh!"
"I am 26 years old. I have a job. I pay my own rent..." A hand clasped over Cindy's mouth.
"If you don't hush you won't live to be 27!"
"I'll buy you a lollipop if we get out of this alive, I promised, didn't I?
There's always a first
The very first time it happened, Cindy blushed like she had never been kissed before. And she hadn't, not like that. The first time they ended up in bed, Lindsay was slightly drunk and Cindy felt like she was taking advantage of the other woman's compromised state. However, she did not feel guilty about it the next day. The first time they made love as a couple Cindy cried, that's how happy she was. Although Lindsay wasn't the first one to break Cindy's heart, it was the first time that it actually hurt so bad Cindy wished she would die.
Lindsay leaned against the headboard, tightened the grip on the sheet around her and grinned like an idiot as she watched Jill frantically search around the room for her underwear.
"Have you seen my panties?" Jill was nearly panicking.
"They couldn't have disappeared!" Jill complained and then accused, "Maybe your dog ate them!" Lindsay shrugged carelessly and Jill stomped off. "Damn dog."
With Cheshire cat grin lingering, Lindsay reached under the sheet and pulled out a tiny piece of undergarment. "Well, look at that," she said for herself, dropped it into the bedside drawer and slowly slid it shut.
Candles, dozens of them, were lit around the room. In the corner, a small table for two was set - a bottle of wine, a decorative flower as a centerpiece. Lindsay slowly tucked a strand of raven hair behind her left ear, which, Jill knew, was a nervous habit.
"And they say Lindsay Boxer doesn't have a single romantic bone in her body." Jill smiled.
"They might be wrong."
Taking in the atmosphere, Jill approached slowly, "So, is this a date?"
Lindsay shrugged roguishly, "Do I get a kiss at the end of the evening?"
"Then it just might be."
"I swear your door was open."
The last time Cindy stuck her nose where it didn't belong she ended up handcuffed against the boiler pipe in the station house's restroom for three hours. This time she was cuffed against the side of Lindsay Boxer's bed and not in way that was so elaborately playing out in one of her most recent fantasies.
"If she moves, bite her!" Lindsay ordered and Martha blinked bemusedly at her owner.
"Can I at least explain?" Cindy yelled after Lindsay.
"My shift ends at seven!" Lindsay yelled back, "Looking forward to hearing you explanation then."
All grown up
At first, Lindsay didn't recognize her. The mass of stylishly ruffled auburn hair framed her face, the eyeliner accentuated her eyes and her lips gleamed against the lightning as if they were made of jewels. And that dress... That dress accentuated every curve of Cindy's body inspector Boxer ever managed to miss.
"Are you getting ready to make another Lois Lane joke?" Cindy arched an eyebrow at the dazed expression on Lindsay's face. The young reporter stood taller, looking defiantly into the other woman's eyes.
"No, I'm..." Lindsay smiled warmly, "For the first time in my life, I'm actually speechless."
Jill closes her eyes and gives out a breathy sigh when Lindsay's fingers find their way under the lapel of her shirt and then trace the path across her collarbone. "I had a dream about you last night," Jill confesses and Lindsay murmurs a soft reply, bidding Jill to tell her more. "It was so vivid; I could touch you, feel your scent..."
The weight of Lindsay's body presses her against the door and then a warm pair of lips brushes the side of her neck.
"Something like this?" Lindsay asks.
Jill gasps with a smile, "Yes, just like that."
2 AM tea
Jill doesn't ask what happened when she opens the door at two in the morning and there is Lindsay, broken and soaking wet. She offers her a towel and a hot cup of tea and then sits on the edge of the sofa, watching the other woman slide the jacket off, dispersing droplets of water over her carpet.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Jill's voice, even hushed, sounds too loud at such late hour. After she towels her hair dry and then takes the teacup into her hands to warm up, Lindsay lifts her sad eyes and meets Jill's.
"Make love to me?" Lindsay's voice is croaky and Jill gives her a little smile before she nods slowly.