Disclaimer: Oh Desperate Housewives isn't mine, and I'm not trying to pretend that it is.

Story Summary: Someday is far away. Pre-series.

Someday I'll See You by the Sea and We'll Be Together Again

A story by Ryeloza

"Let's go to the beach," she says, and he thinks that would be nice. They're sitting on the front steps of their apartment building and the heat is sweltering. Sweat drips down his forehead, but he's too distracted to wipe it away. She looks differently beautiful, sitting there in cut-offs and a bikini top with the sweat curling the sweet tendrils of hair that frame her face. She leans against his knee for a second and sighs. "I just want to feel a breeze."

He brushes the back of her neck with his finger and despite the suffocating warmth, she shivers, and he smiles because there's something strangely sexy about watching her tingle from just the tiniest touch. It's a wicked delight; slow seduction. He isn't surprised that when he speaks his voice his lower and rougher. "We could swim in the ocean. At night. When no one else is around."

She turns; braces her forearms on his thighs; smiles up at him like the sun is inside of her. He loves her. "And walk down the beach together, hand-in-hand."

"Hand-in-hand." He leans down and kisses her, and when she pushes up on the balls of her feet and wraps her hands around his neck and pulls him closer, he feels like his heart might burst. It doesn't seem like it should be possible to be this happy. His hands fiddle with the strings of her bikini and she pulls away to give him a playfully chastising look.

"Will you wear this bikini?"

"I'll wear whatever you want."

"How about nothing?"

She grins and runs her hand against his temple, brushing the sweat away. "I thought you'd never ask."

And that's enough—more than enough. He stands, pulling her up with him, and hoists her over his shoulder. She giggles and he thinks he falls in love with her all over again. She's only like this with him. It feels like the best secret in the world; one he will never share.

Inside, he drops her on the bed and she's still laughing as he covers her body with his, her stomach slick against his chest as he bends to lick the swell of her breast. She tastes salty and warm and delicious and he just wants to kiss every inch of her body.

He's never going to get tired of this, tired of her.

Her hands run over his chest around his shoulders to his back and then up over his neck, and he will never understand how she has the ability to make it seem like she's touching him everywhere all at once. He keeps his hands on her hips, pushing her down into the bed because he likes to see her squirm against him and hear her mumbled begging for release: please, please, please. It's so hot now that he feels like he's on fire and he's sure that if he's dying that this is the best way to go.

For the longest time, they kiss and laugh and touch and nuzzle and it's just love in its purest form. Then her hands start to tug at his shorts and he can't bear another moment of not seeing her breasts, and soon they're completely naked and he's inside of her and it's the most exquisite sensation in the world that slowly builds and builds, and even as he never wants it to end, it does, and it's amazing. Afterward she's glowing, and he stares at her until he can't keep his eyes open a moment longer.

He doesn't know how long he sleeps, but it's the heat that wakes him up. Like the air is so thick that he can't breathe and the sheets are scratchy and he just feels uncomfortable. He opens his eyes slowly. The sun is setting and the room is dim with the blinds closed and the only sound in the room is the low, humming noise of their ceiling fan. And still his eyes go straight to her; always. She stands in profile in front of the mirror, hands on her stomach, staring at herself with some strange beautiful sadness in her eyes. He knows in an instant that the mood has changed, and it goes through him as startlingly as the sudden throbbing of the heat. They are ever-changing as the days.

"We're never going to be us again," she says quietly, sensing him like he senses her: with that unending awareness. She runs her hand over her stomach like she's the only soul in the world who can see the evidence of their baby; maybe she is. "It's never going to be just you and me again."

She turns to him. She's not crying, but he thinks she should be. "Let's face it. We're not going to be able to go out whenever we want or have sex on the living room floor or go away for the weekend. We're not going to be us anymore."

"You're right."

She chews her lip for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm ready to give that up."

"Give us up."

She nods. "Give us up."

Slowly, she crosses the room, climbing onto the bed and propping herself up on her elbow to stare down at him. All he can think to do is to reach out a hand and rest it against her thigh because he can't tell her that it's all going to be okay and he can't tell her that she's wrong and he can't tell her that he doesn't feel like he's losing something too. It doesn't mean he isn't happy or excited; it's just that part of him is mourning too.

"I feel like we just got started."

"I know."

"We're not going to the beach."

He shakes his head. Daydreams end and reality is a fierce, unyielding master, and they both know. Lies won't help. She smiles sadly and kisses him, and then lays her head against his chest so he can wrap his arms around her. He wants to hold her, despite the heat.

"I promise," he says, his voice cracking on the sincerity of the word because this is the only comfort he can offer her (them) and for that reason it means the world and beyond, "someday it's going to be me and you by the sea. Just us."

Her eyes flutter shut and her eyelashes tickle his chest; he wants to cry, but instead he just shuts his eyes too and lets her breathing calm him. When she speaks, the words seem to come from inside of him and it's like they're one person for just a second. He wants it to last forever.

"Together again."