FIC: I've Been A Fool For Lesser Things - WMC (Jill/Cindy) 1/1
TITLE: I've Been a Fool For Lesser Things
AUTHOR: Misty Flores
GENRE:: Women's Murder Club
PAIRING:: Jill/Cindy
SERIES: - Follow up to 'Jill's Very Bad, No Good Day', 'You Shook Me', and 'Working Double-Time on the Seduction Line' - more of a little interlude, really. Previous stories found here.
RATING: Mature
SUMMARY: Jill never really believed in happily ever after.
Author's Notes: Trying to pull the cobwebs off my rusty WMC writin' fingers.
--
I have never let anything
Have this much
Control over me
I work too hard to call my life my own
And I made my simple world
It worked so perfectly
But it's your world now
I can't refuse
I never had so much to lose
-Shameless, Billy Joel
--
Jill's never really believed in happily ever after.
Relationships end. That is sheer fact. Either by death, for the fortunate, or by heartbreak, cheating or sheer disinterest - the human body isn't built for monogamy.
In fact, on her worst days, Jill believes that the only thing that keeps her faithful to Cindy Thomas is the fear. Fear of proving everyone else right. Fear of proving herself right - she can't do this. Mostly though - it's fear of losing Cindy.
A deep, irrational, unexplainable fear of losing Cindy Thomas - as a friend, as a lover, as everything in between.
And is that really love? Is that any reason at all to stay in a relationship? To try so hard to work at something just because you're afraid?
Maybe not.
And it's ironic, because usually, its fear that keep Jill from staying IN relationships. Fear of commitment. Fear of obligations. Fear of always having to BE there. A boyfriend - a girlfriend - whichever it was at the moment, always seemed to want more from her, and Jill has long ago decided that she is just not that great as a long term partner.
She's a passable friend, though.
And maybe that was how Cindy snuck in. Under the guise of friendship, attraction was released under a liquor-induced haze that had taken what she wanted (an easy lay) and turned it into … this.
And nothing before - not Luke or anyone - has ever been like this.
Maybe that's why it's so frightening and unsettlingly comfortable at the same time.
It's late at night, and she's distracted from her paperwork by the knob on her office door turning slowly. Head rising, she watches as the door snicks open, and there, staring at her with bright brown eyes that are way too alert for this time at night, is her roommate and lover.
After nearly a year, Jill still doesn't know how to refer to her as her girlfriend, though that's clearly what she is.
And the look on her face, at close to two am in the nearly deserted offices of the district attorney, seems irritated.
Immediately, Jill knows why - the realization coming to her with a wince and a jolt of pain over her tight shoulders.
She forgot to call. Again.
It's a sore spot between them. Jill knows this. Because she's living with someone, and that someone cares and worries about her, and sometimes Jill just… forgets.
There are too many other things to keep track of - and Cindy knows, because Cindy's just as busy as she is. But Cindy always calls, no matter what.
Jill? Jill forgets.
She's too tired, too wrapped up in her cases, and the lingering nagging thoughts that won't escape her even at her most consumed, to care all that much.
"I'm sorry," she says, by way of greeting, in a flat tone that's meant to tell Cindy that's she is, but not really, because there are things far more important at the moment than worrying about her lover's ruffled senses. "I'm buried. The time got away from me. I should have called."
She says it all like a script, before letting her eyes go back to her paper work, hoping like hell Cindy will get the hint.
But after a pregnant pause, Cindy comes all the way in, shouldering her heavy bag and closing the door behind her, locking it with a click.
"It's okay," Cindy answers. "I actually ended up working an angle with Lindsay."
Jill glances up sharply, and feels the tight muscles on her shoulders cramp in reaction. She doesn't say anything, she never does.
She would never voice it, can never imagine telling Cindy that she actually had a choice, all those months ago.
She could have chosen Lindsay, could have had the dark Avenger that she had fantasized about, if she had wanted her.
Even though she and Lindsay never talk about it, Jill thinks it's very clear that she still could.
If Jill messes this up. If Jill lets it fall apart.
It's exhausting - to have a tentative hold and an insecurity that could dismantle you.
"Find anything?"
"More rats, more nests," Cindy says, with that same adorable smirk on her face, rubbing her fingers through her red curls and heading for the desk. "In the middle of interviewing the third suspect I realized that I hadn't heard from you all day."
"I'm sorry," Jill says again.
She needs to keep working. She wasn't lying when she says she's buried, and when Cindy drops her bag on the floor and works her way onto Jill's lap, pushing her away from the paperwork that has been piling up, Jill feels a flash of irritation.
"Cindy," she begins, feeling exhausted. "I really have to -"
But Cindy kisses her, presses her lips down on her own, shifting on her lap and palming the side of her face with soft fingers that work to tilt Jill's head back.
Her eyes close, and a sensation of warmth and arousal and relief wash over her. Cindy is the smallest lover she's ever had - she fits in her lap perfectly. By instinct alone, her mouth opens and accepts Cindy's tongue, arms curling around her waist and breathing in the familiar smell of her young, live-in lover.
Another kiss - deeper, wetter. Jill's fingers curl against Cindy's shirt, tugging her in deeper. Cindy pushes forward, forcing the chair to creak as her small breasts press against Jill's, sensitive even through the layers of fabric and vest and blazer.
When Cindy breaks the kiss, they're both panting. Cindy's molded Jill's form into the seat by plastering herself against her, and Jill's still exhausted, but suddenly smiling, unable to keep from smoothing her knuckles across a beautiful face, glancing up with a look of undisguised adoration.
"Hi," Cindy says, voice whisper-reverent. "I know you're busy. I just missed you."
Jill only just realizes it - she's missed Cindy too. Hence all the thoughts of Cindy, the lack of focus. Her irritation because she can't seem to get anything done.
Jill feels backward and slow, to realize that that's what missing her meant. To place a word to the ache inside of her that seems not exactly soothed, but stirred to a burning ember.
She smiles, and opens her hand, palming Cindy's nape and bringing her down again, until they're kissing.
Jill loves to kiss. She loves it as much as she loves sex, and the one downside to men - the majority never seem to understand how intimate it can be.
Cindy understands - in the way she sighs and the way her tongue massages against Jill's, nibbles on her lower lip and then tips her head and shifts on her lap, keeping her mouth on hers as she breathes noisily through her nose.
And Jill's wet already. She's very, very aware of that, and very very aware of Cindy's position on her lap.
They break away again, but this time, it's with muffled laughter and conspirator's looks, as Cindy's fingers meet at Jill's button down shirt, fumbling down her cleavage.
"Is Denise here?" Cindy asks, and Jill can't bring herself to care.
"To hell with her," she slurs, jerking up and pressing her mouth against the pulsing beat of Cindy's throat, arching as Cindy straddles her. "You're doing her a favor."
She's knocked away, as Cindy jerks the open shirt over her shoulders and pushes her back against the chair, pinning her with her surprisingly, wiry strength. Cindy is all swollen lips and sparkly eyes and she's absolutely fucking beautiful.
"I'm doing her a favor?" Cindy asks, bemused and a tease.
Jill grins, wide and wicked. "If she wants me alert and focused in court, I need to be cool and relaxed."
"And nothing's better than your girlfriend fucking you at two am in your office?"
Girlfriend.
"Damn straight," she retorts, and Cindy laughs, and then with a flick of her thumb, Jill's bra pops free, and Cindy's mouth is on her left breast.
It's lewd and fast - sex in her office isn't new to her.
Sex with Cindy isn't new to her either.
Cindy's sexual appetite matches her tick for tick, and Jill wonders briefly as Cindy's tongue flicks against her nipple and she arches instinctively, if lesbian bed death will ever be a problem for them.
Because it doesn't seem to be a problem.
It's been a year, and there's been no problem. Not from the first time they fucked on the couch to the first time it meant something more - to even now, when they're exhausted and tired from sleepless nights putting away bad guys - Jill's appetite is insatiable, and Cindy's is never far behind.
It's been a year.
Fingers reach down and sift through red locks. Cindy glances up with Jill's erect nipple held gently between her teeth and the sight is fucking erotic.
"Come here," she demands, voice husky with want, and yanks up Cindy until she's once again in her lap, and their mouths are moving hungrily against each other. Jill's shaking; her heart is beating so hard it feels like it's pounding straight through her chest-
She fumbles underneath Cindy's skirt, nudges aside the thong, and for a moment, the briefest of moments, threatens to crumble at the first touch of the wetness, before she sucks in a deep breath and slides two fingers into Cindy.
The action is forceful and deep. It wrenches a sound out of Cindy - a mixture of a moan and a cry, and Cindy herself attempts to muffle it by planting her lips against Jill's, hips already in movement astride her.
They fuck in a rhythm; their rhythm. They find it easily and it starts out slow, with Cindy grinding into her drenched hand, the mixture of texture - soft flesh and coarse hair - so real and oddly significant that Jill can't close her eyes. She watches, sucking Cindy's tongue into her mouth and then breaking free, leaning back as the chair creaks and Cindy rides her.
It's so fucking beautiful.
It's faster now. Cindy grabs hold of her breasts and squeezes, thighs pushing against hers, and she talks - because Cindy always talks - words jumbled together that mean everything.
"Oh God. Oh, God- Jill - fuck-"
Jill's heart pounds and she swallows hard, grabs hold of Cindy's left hand, lifts it off her breasts and guides it between Cindy's own legs.
The pace speeds up as Cindy helps her - rubbing circles frantically at her clit as Jill fucks her.
"Fuck-Fuck-"
"Cindy," Jill says hoarsely, and then the velvet walls clamp down on her, and Cindy goes rigid above her, eyes scrunched closed and for once - Cindy doesn't talk. Her orgasm hits her with a silent 'oh', and suddenly she collapses, feeling heavier than she did before, sweaty and hot and stretched over Jill, head against her shoulder.
Jill closes her eyes and wraps her arms around Cindy, hugging her tighter than she ever held anything.
She's terrified.
She's terrified and a relationship shouldn’t be based on fear, should it?
They fucked each other - and that was all it was. Sex. Sex on a couch to forget, and it was supposed to be more of the same for Jill.
But it's been a year, and it's never felt this intense before. It's never felt like this, and Jill is terrified.
Because she LOVES Cindy. She LOVES her in a way she's never loved anyone. With her heart and her soul and every single emotion and it's like learning how to walk all over again.
Cindy told her at the start of all this that she's 26 years old and the last thing she's thinking about is marriage and babies.
She said this because Jill had said it first.
But Jill loves her. And now she's afraid. She's afraid all the time - she's never had this much to lose.
And is it worth it?
Cindy's breathing deep and loud as she recovers, and Jill's eyes flutter shut as Cindy begins to plant hungry kisses on her neck, trailing up to her jaw and landing on her lips.
She does the unthinkable before she can even think to stop herself.
"I love you," she whispers, barely audible in the middle of a harsh, lust-induced kiss.
She's not sure who it shocks more - her or Cindy.
Her heart spikes inside her, an eruption of her fear. Cindy breaks away, and it's like cold water has been thrown over them both - because it's 2AM in the morning, and this is Cindy Thomas, and Jill can't even call her a girlfriend, and she loves her?
It's the most terrifying thing she's ever done, and the silence that follow is nearly unmanageable.
Cindy has never said she's loved her. Jill hasn't realized how badly she's wanted it until right now.
But she feels like a fool, with her shirt open and her bra hanging down, and Cindy astride her, pussy wet and dripping, just like her hand, and looking at her like she's fricking insane.
"I love you too," Cindy tells her.
It's sincere and so-very-Cindy. Matter of fact. To the point. Exactly what Jill wants to hear.
The smile on her face makes her feel like a fool, but she's been a bigger fool than this, and when Cindy kisses her, Jill wonders if this is what forever feels like-
She awakes with a start, head lifting off a paper cluttered desk. Jill blinks blearily, and feels the bones in her back crack as she fumbles for the blackberry.
The blackberry says it's 2:06AM, and Jill has nodded off - she's been dreaming.
A fucking wet dream, like a god-damn teenager. She wet between her legs, and there's no Cindy astride her, but just the emptiness of her office, and the pile of cases that have kept her hostage.
Her phone has two missed calls - both from Cindy, and Jill groans, because she forgot to call.
She battles images and words - the sound 'I love you' flutters like a phantom in her brain, and she tries to rub it away with her fingers on her temple as her phone dials and connects to her roommate and lover.
To her girlfriend.
Three clicks, and she hears a harried, "Hey."
"Hi," she whispers, voice dry and sleepy. "I'm sorry I forgot to call. I'm here at the office… just buried."
"I figured." A familiar voice pipes up somewhere over on Cindy's side, and Cindy responds. Jill frowns.
"Is that Lindsay?"
"We're following up another lead," Cindy says. "While I was waiting for you I got this idea about the killer - I couldn't wait so I called Lindsay, and-"
"And you're brilliant and relentless," Jill said, grinning a pained smile even though Cindy's not there to see it. "Just like Lindsay."
"We're wrapping up," Cindy tells her, cheery and bright and too alert for 2AM. "Are you spending the night there? Want me to come see you on the way back?"
Yes, Jill thinks. God, yes. She wants to see her. She misses Cindy.
And she's so very scared -
She swallowed and exhales and with an flat, uncaring voice, answers. "No, I'm wrapping up too. I'll be home in a bit. I'll wait up for you."
"Sounds good."
"Say hi to Lindsay for me."
"Sure thing."
Jill hesitates. Her fingers slide into the short hair at her nape, and she battles, her dream vivid and clear and, she wants to believe, within reach.
"Cindy?"
"Yeah?"
She tries. She really does. She tries to tell her - but it's 2AM, and Cindy's with Lindsay and distracted, and she's had a fucking wet dream, and Jill wants so very badly not to be afraid and not to mess it up, and she needs so badly to hear it back.
Her words choke, and deflating, she just says, "I miss you."
A small, quiet pause, and then Cindy tells her simply, "I miss you too." Jill's lips quirk in a grateful smile. "See you soon."
The line does dead, and Jill, alone in her office, buries her head in her hands.
It's going to be a year since they fucked.
That's some sort of anniversary.
Jill's never really believed in happily-ever-after, and so she feels like a fool.
And it doesn't even matter, because she's also the happiest she's ever been.
She aches and she's terrified, and it's everything she's unsure what to do with, so she resolves to ask Claire tomorrow for advice on how to tell the woman who pulled the rug out from under her that she wants forever with her, even if it doesn't exist.
It's foolish and stupid, and Jill has been a fool so many times, because it will end, and Jill knows then it might just not be worth it.
But it's okay.
She's in love with Cindy.
And Jill has been a fool for lesser things.
FIN
AUTHOR: Misty Flores
GENRE:: Women's Murder Club
PAIRING:: Jill/Cindy
SERIES: - Follow up to 'Jill's Very Bad, No Good Day', 'You Shook Me', and 'Working Double-Time on the Seduction Line' - more of a little interlude, really. Previous stories found here.
RATING: Mature
SUMMARY: Jill never really believed in happily ever after.
Author's Notes: Trying to pull the cobwebs off my rusty WMC writin' fingers.
--
I have never let anything
Have this much
Control over me
I work too hard to call my life my own
And I made my simple world
It worked so perfectly
But it's your world now
I can't refuse
I never had so much to lose
-Shameless, Billy Joel
--
Jill's never really believed in happily ever after.
Relationships end. That is sheer fact. Either by death, for the fortunate, or by heartbreak, cheating or sheer disinterest - the human body isn't built for monogamy.
In fact, on her worst days, Jill believes that the only thing that keeps her faithful to Cindy Thomas is the fear. Fear of proving everyone else right. Fear of proving herself right - she can't do this. Mostly though - it's fear of losing Cindy.
A deep, irrational, unexplainable fear of losing Cindy Thomas - as a friend, as a lover, as everything in between.
And is that really love? Is that any reason at all to stay in a relationship? To try so hard to work at something just because you're afraid?
Maybe not.
And it's ironic, because usually, its fear that keep Jill from staying IN relationships. Fear of commitment. Fear of obligations. Fear of always having to BE there. A boyfriend - a girlfriend - whichever it was at the moment, always seemed to want more from her, and Jill has long ago decided that she is just not that great as a long term partner.
She's a passable friend, though.
And maybe that was how Cindy snuck in. Under the guise of friendship, attraction was released under a liquor-induced haze that had taken what she wanted (an easy lay) and turned it into … this.
And nothing before - not Luke or anyone - has ever been like this.
Maybe that's why it's so frightening and unsettlingly comfortable at the same time.
It's late at night, and she's distracted from her paperwork by the knob on her office door turning slowly. Head rising, she watches as the door snicks open, and there, staring at her with bright brown eyes that are way too alert for this time at night, is her roommate and lover.
After nearly a year, Jill still doesn't know how to refer to her as her girlfriend, though that's clearly what she is.
And the look on her face, at close to two am in the nearly deserted offices of the district attorney, seems irritated.
Immediately, Jill knows why - the realization coming to her with a wince and a jolt of pain over her tight shoulders.
She forgot to call. Again.
It's a sore spot between them. Jill knows this. Because she's living with someone, and that someone cares and worries about her, and sometimes Jill just… forgets.
There are too many other things to keep track of - and Cindy knows, because Cindy's just as busy as she is. But Cindy always calls, no matter what.
Jill? Jill forgets.
She's too tired, too wrapped up in her cases, and the lingering nagging thoughts that won't escape her even at her most consumed, to care all that much.
"I'm sorry," she says, by way of greeting, in a flat tone that's meant to tell Cindy that's she is, but not really, because there are things far more important at the moment than worrying about her lover's ruffled senses. "I'm buried. The time got away from me. I should have called."
She says it all like a script, before letting her eyes go back to her paper work, hoping like hell Cindy will get the hint.
But after a pregnant pause, Cindy comes all the way in, shouldering her heavy bag and closing the door behind her, locking it with a click.
"It's okay," Cindy answers. "I actually ended up working an angle with Lindsay."
Jill glances up sharply, and feels the tight muscles on her shoulders cramp in reaction. She doesn't say anything, she never does.
She would never voice it, can never imagine telling Cindy that she actually had a choice, all those months ago.
She could have chosen Lindsay, could have had the dark Avenger that she had fantasized about, if she had wanted her.
Even though she and Lindsay never talk about it, Jill thinks it's very clear that she still could.
If Jill messes this up. If Jill lets it fall apart.
It's exhausting - to have a tentative hold and an insecurity that could dismantle you.
"Find anything?"
"More rats, more nests," Cindy says, with that same adorable smirk on her face, rubbing her fingers through her red curls and heading for the desk. "In the middle of interviewing the third suspect I realized that I hadn't heard from you all day."
"I'm sorry," Jill says again.
She needs to keep working. She wasn't lying when she says she's buried, and when Cindy drops her bag on the floor and works her way onto Jill's lap, pushing her away from the paperwork that has been piling up, Jill feels a flash of irritation.
"Cindy," she begins, feeling exhausted. "I really have to -"
But Cindy kisses her, presses her lips down on her own, shifting on her lap and palming the side of her face with soft fingers that work to tilt Jill's head back.
Her eyes close, and a sensation of warmth and arousal and relief wash over her. Cindy is the smallest lover she's ever had - she fits in her lap perfectly. By instinct alone, her mouth opens and accepts Cindy's tongue, arms curling around her waist and breathing in the familiar smell of her young, live-in lover.
Another kiss - deeper, wetter. Jill's fingers curl against Cindy's shirt, tugging her in deeper. Cindy pushes forward, forcing the chair to creak as her small breasts press against Jill's, sensitive even through the layers of fabric and vest and blazer.
When Cindy breaks the kiss, they're both panting. Cindy's molded Jill's form into the seat by plastering herself against her, and Jill's still exhausted, but suddenly smiling, unable to keep from smoothing her knuckles across a beautiful face, glancing up with a look of undisguised adoration.
"Hi," Cindy says, voice whisper-reverent. "I know you're busy. I just missed you."
Jill only just realizes it - she's missed Cindy too. Hence all the thoughts of Cindy, the lack of focus. Her irritation because she can't seem to get anything done.
Jill feels backward and slow, to realize that that's what missing her meant. To place a word to the ache inside of her that seems not exactly soothed, but stirred to a burning ember.
She smiles, and opens her hand, palming Cindy's nape and bringing her down again, until they're kissing.
Jill loves to kiss. She loves it as much as she loves sex, and the one downside to men - the majority never seem to understand how intimate it can be.
Cindy understands - in the way she sighs and the way her tongue massages against Jill's, nibbles on her lower lip and then tips her head and shifts on her lap, keeping her mouth on hers as she breathes noisily through her nose.
And Jill's wet already. She's very, very aware of that, and very very aware of Cindy's position on her lap.
They break away again, but this time, it's with muffled laughter and conspirator's looks, as Cindy's fingers meet at Jill's button down shirt, fumbling down her cleavage.
"Is Denise here?" Cindy asks, and Jill can't bring herself to care.
"To hell with her," she slurs, jerking up and pressing her mouth against the pulsing beat of Cindy's throat, arching as Cindy straddles her. "You're doing her a favor."
She's knocked away, as Cindy jerks the open shirt over her shoulders and pushes her back against the chair, pinning her with her surprisingly, wiry strength. Cindy is all swollen lips and sparkly eyes and she's absolutely fucking beautiful.
"I'm doing her a favor?" Cindy asks, bemused and a tease.
Jill grins, wide and wicked. "If she wants me alert and focused in court, I need to be cool and relaxed."
"And nothing's better than your girlfriend fucking you at two am in your office?"
Girlfriend.
"Damn straight," she retorts, and Cindy laughs, and then with a flick of her thumb, Jill's bra pops free, and Cindy's mouth is on her left breast.
It's lewd and fast - sex in her office isn't new to her.
Sex with Cindy isn't new to her either.
Cindy's sexual appetite matches her tick for tick, and Jill wonders briefly as Cindy's tongue flicks against her nipple and she arches instinctively, if lesbian bed death will ever be a problem for them.
Because it doesn't seem to be a problem.
It's been a year, and there's been no problem. Not from the first time they fucked on the couch to the first time it meant something more - to even now, when they're exhausted and tired from sleepless nights putting away bad guys - Jill's appetite is insatiable, and Cindy's is never far behind.
It's been a year.
Fingers reach down and sift through red locks. Cindy glances up with Jill's erect nipple held gently between her teeth and the sight is fucking erotic.
"Come here," she demands, voice husky with want, and yanks up Cindy until she's once again in her lap, and their mouths are moving hungrily against each other. Jill's shaking; her heart is beating so hard it feels like it's pounding straight through her chest-
She fumbles underneath Cindy's skirt, nudges aside the thong, and for a moment, the briefest of moments, threatens to crumble at the first touch of the wetness, before she sucks in a deep breath and slides two fingers into Cindy.
The action is forceful and deep. It wrenches a sound out of Cindy - a mixture of a moan and a cry, and Cindy herself attempts to muffle it by planting her lips against Jill's, hips already in movement astride her.
They fuck in a rhythm; their rhythm. They find it easily and it starts out slow, with Cindy grinding into her drenched hand, the mixture of texture - soft flesh and coarse hair - so real and oddly significant that Jill can't close her eyes. She watches, sucking Cindy's tongue into her mouth and then breaking free, leaning back as the chair creaks and Cindy rides her.
It's so fucking beautiful.
It's faster now. Cindy grabs hold of her breasts and squeezes, thighs pushing against hers, and she talks - because Cindy always talks - words jumbled together that mean everything.
"Oh God. Oh, God- Jill - fuck-"
Jill's heart pounds and she swallows hard, grabs hold of Cindy's left hand, lifts it off her breasts and guides it between Cindy's own legs.
The pace speeds up as Cindy helps her - rubbing circles frantically at her clit as Jill fucks her.
"Fuck-Fuck-"
"Cindy," Jill says hoarsely, and then the velvet walls clamp down on her, and Cindy goes rigid above her, eyes scrunched closed and for once - Cindy doesn't talk. Her orgasm hits her with a silent 'oh', and suddenly she collapses, feeling heavier than she did before, sweaty and hot and stretched over Jill, head against her shoulder.
Jill closes her eyes and wraps her arms around Cindy, hugging her tighter than she ever held anything.
She's terrified.
She's terrified and a relationship shouldn’t be based on fear, should it?
They fucked each other - and that was all it was. Sex. Sex on a couch to forget, and it was supposed to be more of the same for Jill.
But it's been a year, and it's never felt this intense before. It's never felt like this, and Jill is terrified.
Because she LOVES Cindy. She LOVES her in a way she's never loved anyone. With her heart and her soul and every single emotion and it's like learning how to walk all over again.
Cindy told her at the start of all this that she's 26 years old and the last thing she's thinking about is marriage and babies.
She said this because Jill had said it first.
But Jill loves her. And now she's afraid. She's afraid all the time - she's never had this much to lose.
And is it worth it?
Cindy's breathing deep and loud as she recovers, and Jill's eyes flutter shut as Cindy begins to plant hungry kisses on her neck, trailing up to her jaw and landing on her lips.
She does the unthinkable before she can even think to stop herself.
"I love you," she whispers, barely audible in the middle of a harsh, lust-induced kiss.
She's not sure who it shocks more - her or Cindy.
Her heart spikes inside her, an eruption of her fear. Cindy breaks away, and it's like cold water has been thrown over them both - because it's 2AM in the morning, and this is Cindy Thomas, and Jill can't even call her a girlfriend, and she loves her?
It's the most terrifying thing she's ever done, and the silence that follow is nearly unmanageable.
Cindy has never said she's loved her. Jill hasn't realized how badly she's wanted it until right now.
But she feels like a fool, with her shirt open and her bra hanging down, and Cindy astride her, pussy wet and dripping, just like her hand, and looking at her like she's fricking insane.
"I love you too," Cindy tells her.
It's sincere and so-very-Cindy. Matter of fact. To the point. Exactly what Jill wants to hear.
The smile on her face makes her feel like a fool, but she's been a bigger fool than this, and when Cindy kisses her, Jill wonders if this is what forever feels like-
She awakes with a start, head lifting off a paper cluttered desk. Jill blinks blearily, and feels the bones in her back crack as she fumbles for the blackberry.
The blackberry says it's 2:06AM, and Jill has nodded off - she's been dreaming.
A fucking wet dream, like a god-damn teenager. She wet between her legs, and there's no Cindy astride her, but just the emptiness of her office, and the pile of cases that have kept her hostage.
Her phone has two missed calls - both from Cindy, and Jill groans, because she forgot to call.
She battles images and words - the sound 'I love you' flutters like a phantom in her brain, and she tries to rub it away with her fingers on her temple as her phone dials and connects to her roommate and lover.
To her girlfriend.
Three clicks, and she hears a harried, "Hey."
"Hi," she whispers, voice dry and sleepy. "I'm sorry I forgot to call. I'm here at the office… just buried."
"I figured." A familiar voice pipes up somewhere over on Cindy's side, and Cindy responds. Jill frowns.
"Is that Lindsay?"
"We're following up another lead," Cindy says. "While I was waiting for you I got this idea about the killer - I couldn't wait so I called Lindsay, and-"
"And you're brilliant and relentless," Jill said, grinning a pained smile even though Cindy's not there to see it. "Just like Lindsay."
"We're wrapping up," Cindy tells her, cheery and bright and too alert for 2AM. "Are you spending the night there? Want me to come see you on the way back?"
Yes, Jill thinks. God, yes. She wants to see her. She misses Cindy.
And she's so very scared -
She swallowed and exhales and with an flat, uncaring voice, answers. "No, I'm wrapping up too. I'll be home in a bit. I'll wait up for you."
"Sounds good."
"Say hi to Lindsay for me."
"Sure thing."
Jill hesitates. Her fingers slide into the short hair at her nape, and she battles, her dream vivid and clear and, she wants to believe, within reach.
"Cindy?"
"Yeah?"
She tries. She really does. She tries to tell her - but it's 2AM, and Cindy's with Lindsay and distracted, and she's had a fucking wet dream, and Jill wants so very badly not to be afraid and not to mess it up, and she needs so badly to hear it back.
Her words choke, and deflating, she just says, "I miss you."
A small, quiet pause, and then Cindy tells her simply, "I miss you too." Jill's lips quirk in a grateful smile. "See you soon."
The line does dead, and Jill, alone in her office, buries her head in her hands.
It's going to be a year since they fucked.
That's some sort of anniversary.
Jill's never really believed in happily-ever-after, and so she feels like a fool.
And it doesn't even matter, because she's also the happiest she's ever been.
She aches and she's terrified, and it's everything she's unsure what to do with, so she resolves to ask Claire tomorrow for advice on how to tell the woman who pulled the rug out from under her that she wants forever with her, even if it doesn't exist.
It's foolish and stupid, and Jill has been a fool so many times, because it will end, and Jill knows then it might just not be worth it.
But it's okay.
She's in love with Cindy.
And Jill has been a fool for lesser things.
FIN