Disclaimer: Holy smokes! Desperate Housewives still isn't mine!

Story Summary: What if the road to getting together wasn't so easy? An AU story about how Tom and Lynette started their relationship.

One Thousand Paper Cranes

A story by Ryeloza

Part One: There's Nothing at the Bottom of the Bottle

Lynette felt Tom's presence before she actually heard him; the instant his eyes fell on her her entire body tingled and her heart sped up. It was pathetic, really, and she refused to let him see how he affected her. She ran a finger around the rim of her glass and pretended to be oblivious until he actually approached her, sidling up to the bar and pretending he was suave: "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Banter. What fun.

"Girls like me thrive in places like this."

He shook his head. "I don't believe that."

"You don't know me."

"Can we change that?"

Lynette chortled before throwing back what remained of the drink in front of her. Immediately she ordered another. "Can we drop the pretense?" she asked, playing with the ring of condensation that marked where her glass had been. "I'm not in the mood for games tonight."

Ignoring her plea completely, Tom's fingers skated across her back as he took the seat next to her. It was the worst game of all: the flirtation of physical contact. Whenever he touched her a thrill went down her spine. She was beginning to wonder if she got off on the idea of toying with someone she couldn't have. It was a sickness, but apparently he shared the affliction.

"I'll have what she's having," he said as the bartender handed her a new drink. Lynette rolled her eyes and pretended she didn't notice how he was turned just far enough that his knee brushed her thigh. "Okay, seriously," he said—as if he was ever serious about their non-affair. "What are you doing here? I thought you had a date or something."

"Or something canceled." She took another drink and smacked her lips against the harsh taste of the scotch. "Where's your old lady tonight?"

"I don't know."

Lynette smirked. "Trouble in paradise?" She cringed at the note of pleasure in her voice; how far gone from reality was she that she bought this crock of shit? He was flirting on the edge of a line he'd never cross and she was a glutton for punishment. Not that it mattered.

"Did he really cancel or are you just trying to cheer me up?" he asked, bypassing her inquiry. To her great annoyance, he reached out to brush a finger along the outline of her ear. Worse, she didn't even bother to pretend it was inappropriate.

"It was a tentative thing. He was on call tonight. He's a doctor."

"Of course he is."

She shrugged. "It's not going to work out."

"You're too good for him."

"No," she admitted slowly, boldly turning her gaze his way. "It's just that I fell for someone else."

Something flashed in Tom's eyes; it was there and gone so quickly that she'd never know what it was. He let out a low sigh and downed his entire drink. "Fuck," he hissed, his face contorting at the fiery liquid he'd just used to lambast his throat. She almost smiled, but then he said, "Annabel's pregnant."

"Oh." She turned her head; stared at her drink. It was almost shocking how much she didn't feel anything at the announcement. Like he had told he was going to buy a cantaloupe or wear sneakers tomorrow and there was nothing to say but Oh, that's nice. It wasn't like they were together. They weren't even friends.

"She wants to move back to Chicago to be closer to her family."

"You're going to go."

"Yeah."

She nodded, glad that he didn't hesitate. It would have been so much worse if he lied or laid it on her. Guys had done it in the past—Oh baby, I don't know what I want. Just tell me to stay and I'll do it. She means nothing. At least she hadn't fallen head over heels for a coward.

"I don't love her," he said.

"Does that matter?"

"I don't know." He laid his hand over hers and let his thumb run over her wrist. It made her wistful for the intimacy they weren't ever going to have. Apparently he was thinking along the same lines because a moment later he leaned into her personal space, close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek as he whispered, "I want you."

She wanted to say that he'd missed his chance, but the truth was that they'd been doomed from the start. They were both so stupid. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned to look at him, glad that her eyes were still dry. It would be so much worse if he saw her break.

He was staring at her so hard that it took her breath away and despite her best intentions her eyes flickered down to his lips. It was just an instant, but that was all it took. Without pause he brought a hand up to caress her cheek and then leaned in and kissed her. It was just a meeting—a brief, gentle, slow, soft moment where his lips were against hers—but any self-control she had left disappeared completely. Suddenly he didn't have a pregnant girlfriend; he wasn't leaving; they were in a world where they could be together—just as long as the kiss lasted.

It was an indulgence that never could have gone on long enough to satisfy her; a lifetime of what could have been wrapped up in one sweet kiss. Too soon, Tom released her, pausing to kiss her cheek before he pulled away.

She brushed her hair behind her ear and twisted away from him. The intensity of the moment was too much. "I guess this is goodbye," she said softly. And then, feeling brave in this last meeting, added, "You know I love you, right?"

It didn't matter. He was already gone.