Disclaimer: Oh Desperate Housewives is not mine and never will be.

Story Summary: A little talking. A little flirting. Post-ep for "Truly Content."

Drive You Crazy

A story by Ryeloza

Tom flopped down on the bed wearing a quirky little smile that Lynette felt like it had been years since she'd seen. Since their talk that afternoon, she couldn't say that Tom had been his usual goofy, happy, loving self, but he'd certainly been more than the shadow of her husband that had been skulking around their house for the past few weeks. She felt like they were taking baby steps back toward normalcy; he couldn't give her a full grin yet, but a hint of a smile was better than nothing.

"What's up?" she asked, setting her book on the nightstand. As soon as she gave Tom her full attention, though, he turned his eyes to his finger, which was tracing lazy patterns on her thigh.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I know that I've been trapped in my own head lately—"

Lynette reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder; physical contact had always been her best reassurance—in this case for her as much as him. She was completely aware that she had toed a line this week, one that she could reluctantly admit that she'd crossed, even if she had been right. "Honey, you don't have to apologize for that. I get it. I do."

Tom pressed a brief kiss to her knee. It was an acknowledgement of what she said; a promise not to trek into something she didn't want to talk about. They were both well aware that she'd had her own battles with depression, but unlike him she'd been completely unwilling to admit it. After everything that had happened with Norah and Kayla and Atlantic City, she'd been a wreck, trapped in her own private hell mostly because she hadn't talked to Tom about it at all. She'd learned the hard way that even she had a breaking point—sometimes she had to talk, no matter how much she didn't want to.

"You need to know that I know that you're dealing with a lot too," he said quietly, pulling her away from her thoughts. He looked up at her again, a firm, almost stern, expression in his eyes. "I know you, Lynette. And I know that you think that everyone should be able to pull themselves up without any help at all, but that's not true."

Lynette sighed. "I am sorry that I screwed with your medicine. I just—"

"Don't. I don't want to fight. I'm just trying to say that yeah, maybe the medication turned out to be a moot point, but part of the reason I'm getting through this…that I'm going to get through this is because of you. Being able to talk to you, touch you, laugh with you—that all makes it better. You are my greatest help, even when you're being a pain in the ass. So I just want you to remember that I can help you too."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. And you should appreciate this offer. I am probably just about the only guy in the world who can put up with someone as obstinate as you."

Lynette rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not obstinate."

Tom leaned down and kissed her thigh, then worked his way up to her stomach and finally her chest. He punctuated each kiss with a word. "Yes, you are." He shifted so his body was directly on top of hers, and her heart sped up. Slowly, his hand drifted to her cheek, brushing her hair away and rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. "And I love you for it. I mean, where would the passion be if you weren't driving me crazy?"

"You've got that backwards."

"Do I?" His hands drifted down her body, gathering the hem of her tank top and pulling it up so her stomach was exposed. Shifting slightly to the side, he let his fingers traipse over her skin, dipping down to her belly button and dancing in slow circles. "You let me spend a week smoking oregano."

"You ate all the junk food in this house."

Tom moved down, pressing his hands into her hips and then dipping his head to softly kiss her stomach. She squirmed at the contact of his lips against her skin. Already she wanted him and he'd barely touched her. It had definitely been too long since they'd had sex. Sensing this, Tom looked back up at her with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes; she met the look defiantly. "You," he said, "are totally trying to pretend that you don't want me to rip off your underwear right now."

With effort, Lynette managed not to twist her hips up toward him at this remark. Maybe she was obstinate. "You have made me watch more golf in the past couple weeks than any person should ever have to."

Tom smiled at her for a moment and then sat up and pulled off his shirt. It was impossible not to let her eyes rove the planes of his chest, but she did keep her hands down, resisting contact. They were playing a game where there wouldn't be a loser, but she still really wanted to win. "You used my t-shirt as a spit up rag last week."

She grinned coquettishly, teasing him for a moment by letting her hands gather the material where her shirt was still rolled up beneath her breasts, and then moving down to pull off one of her socks. Tom shook his head at her and gave her a quick kiss.

"Since the baby was born you've turned me down for sex. More than once," she said, just able to keep the bitterness out of her voice. It wasn't exactly the self-esteem boost she'd needed, no matter the circumstances. Tom seemed to realize this, and he nodded seriously.

"Okay," he agreed. "That earns you pants."

"That should earn me everything."

Tom smiled at her as he shimmied out of his pajamas. "Just wait."

"You left the toilet seat up last night and when I got up to go to the bathroom I almost fell in."

"Uh, I think it was my turn."

Lynette shrugged. "You snooze, you lose. Speaking of, you haven't gotten up with the baby once this week."

"Hey!"

"And you didn't back me up when I tried to get out of going to that stupid jewelry party Susan threw a couple weeks ago." She raised an eyebrow. "Have I proved my point yet? You drive me crazy."

Tom hooked his fingers in the waistband of her pajama pants and pulled them down, and sensing she'd won, Lynette finally let herself touch him. "Yeah, I'll drive you crazy," he agreed, running his hands over her, slowly spreading her legs apart. "Just wait and see."