Disclaimer: If Women's Murder Club were mine, there would've been a lot more lady loving and a lot less murder... just sayin'. (see profile for a REAL disclaimer)
A/N: Written for the third annual Women's Murder Club Day!
They hadn't planned this, ending up in Lindsay's bed the same night that Tom got married, but after spending the day together and solving the case Cindy couldn't just leave her to wallow all by herself.
She showed up at the loft around eight o'clock with a six pack of beer in one hand and a carton of ice-cream in the other. Cindy had been a bit apprehensive at first, but when the door opened and she was greeted with a pair of red, puffy eyes and a sniffle she knew that ignoring Claire's advice to let Lindsay work things out on her own had been the right thing to do.
They'd spent the next few hours sitting on the couch in silence, drinking until the detective was buzzed enough to lean against her shoulder and let it all out- the tears, the anger, the regret. The clock on the wall had just struck midnight by the time they'd run out of tissues and hit the point of exhaustion. What happened after that though, was sort of fuzzy. One minute she was pushing Lindsay's hair behind her ear, wiping the last remaining tears from her cheeks and the next they were stumbling blindly down the hall in a tangle of limbs and clothes and kisses.
Lindsay was tentative at first, if not a little desperate to drown herself in someone, and she'd completely understood. Cindy kissed her way down her neck and chest until Lindsay had whimpered softly and tangled her long fingers in red hair, holding her close. She teased her, caressing and pushing her harder and faster before finally slipping inside of her, savoring the feeling of Lindsay's arms wrapping around her like she never wanted to let go. Cindy took her time, letting the tension build slowly between them, waves of pleasure plateauing and breaking under gentle insistence. After all was said and done, their skin drying in the chilly evening air, neither of them talked about the silent tears that fell upon Cindy's chest or the marks that she'd have on her bicep from Lindsay's nails.
The next morning, she'd woken up with a halo of curly black hair tickling her nose and a smile on her face. The sun was shining and one of her best friend's fingers were loosely wrapped around her own, resting just below her breasts.
They may not have planned this, but Cindy would never regret it. Now, she just had to wait and hope that Lindsay wouldn't either.
End.