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Hook Up

A story by Ryeloza

Two: Company Picnic

"So I told Henry that he was just going to have to suck it up and sign the account over to me. I mean, he royally fucked up, you know? He didn't really have a choice."

"Uh-huh," agreed Lynette. Carter had been talking her ear off from the second she'd gotten into his car this afternoon, and she'd managed to listen intently for about a half an hour before letting her mind wander. She didn't really feel bad; most of what he said didn't require a verbal response anyway.

They were at their company picnic, an event that ate up an entire Saturday while requiring inane forms of recreation and socialization. The word "optional" had been stressed quite a bit, but there was something rather final about the way her boss had sat down with the upper level employees and basically ordered them to come. "We're boosting morale here, people," he'd said, pounding his fist against the table. Lynette had glanced surreptitiously at Tom, hiding a smile as he'd turned to Mike Sutton and subtly mimed putting a gun to his head. In the few weeks they'd worked together, it had become second nature for Lynette to look to him for a joke or a response that echoed her private thoughts, even if he was unaware that she was eyeing him. But it was also a distraction. A distraction that got her into messes like this one.

"So I sent the fax over to Neemerman this morning, and I'm just waiting for confirmation. Like, how long does it take to send a fucking confirmation, you know? And then we have to come here. Not that I'm not, you know, having a good time or anything. This is great."

Lynette stretched her neck from side to side, working at the kinks that she'd been feeling for a week now. A moment later, Carter's hand landed heavily on her neck, squeezing her muscles uncomfortably for a minute before he relaxed and settled a hand across her shoulders. She wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten the impression that this was a date—it wasn't—but she couldn't be entirely sure that she'd heard him correctly when he'd been talking to her after the meeting either. A group of them had lingered in the conference room, and Lynette had been more focused on Tom's all-too-accurate impersonation of their boss than Carter's invitation to come to this thing together. As far as she could remember, though, the invitation had been, "You wanna, you know, drive to this thing together?"

Certainly not the equivalent to a date. Unless, like now, there was more to what he was saying than what she chose to hear.

"Lynette?"

"Huh?" She turned to look up at him; it gave her the perfect excuse to slip out of his grasp at the same time. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said it's almost four. Softball game, right?"

Lynette glanced at her watch, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You're right!" she said, more enthusiastically than she should have. And to think, she hadn't particularly been looking forward to this game. "I have to go."

"No, I signed up too, remember? I told you that. I played pitcher for my high school and college teams. Fastest arm on the west coast."

"Oh. Right."

Carter took her hand and led her to the baseball field; Lynette wasn't sure she'd ever met a more clueless person. Already she could foresee this ending badly; if he was dumb enough to think they were having a successful date than he really wasn't going to see it coming when she turned him down.

"You guys are late," barked Shawn Reisburg as they approached. He glanced at their joined hands disdainfully, and Lynette promptly drew hers back on the pretense of fixing her hair (as it was in two braids, it was a weak façade at best). With a smirk that suggested that he was more informed than Carter, Shawn tossed her a blue baseball cap and said, "Lynette, you're a captain."

"First pick?"

"Goes to me for showing up on time." Shawn jammed a red cap on his head and crossed his arms, surveying the crowd of people around them with vague disinterest. Finally he jerked his head in Gary Paulson's direction, and spit on the ground.

Lynette spread her legs slightly, hands behind her back, but she had about two seconds to scan the crowd when Carter loudly cleared his throat. Her eyes traveled to his inadvertently, and as he mouthed, "Fastest arm in the west," she officially stopped thinking. "Tom," she said, spitting out the first name that popped into her head. Carter's brow furrowed in annoyance, but Lynette ignored it, relieved when Shawn picked Carter next.

"Fighting with your boyfriend?" Tom muttered from behind her. Judging by his tone, he was clearly teasing her, but that didn't stop her from quickly stamping on his foot. It was bad enough that Carter seemed to think they were on a date; she didn't need the rest of the office thinking that as well. "Natalie," she chose as Tom gave an exaggerated groan. She didn't regret it even a little.

Lynette put a little more effort into the rest of her picks—she'd never been a halfhearted competitor—and by the time they were assembled she figured she had a fairly good chance of winning. Shawn had gone for brute size as opposed to skill, and Lynette didn't doubt that her team could kick his ass. Considering that Shawn and Gary had weaseled an account away from her a week ago, she was really looking forward to it.

Their team was up to bat first, and after coming up with an order that put her roughly in the middle, Lynette settled in on the bench, pulling off her cap and brushing the loose tendrils of hair out of her eyes. She had about two minutes to enjoy her first moment of quiet all day, and then Tom plopped down next to her with a bat in his hands. "You know," he said in that same strange teasing tone he'd used earlier, "I think as team captain you're required to keep that cap on at all times."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a funny guy?"

"All the time actually."

"Huh. Well, they lied."

Tom grinned and tapped her foot with the bat. "Look at you with the zings. I'm liking the snark, Lindquist."

Lynette disregarded this, cheering loudly as Mike Sutton got a hit and rounded first to second, but Tom apparently wasn't any more discouraged by her lack of response than Carter had been. He did, however, seem to want her to reply, which made it a lot harder to pretend he wasn't there. "So I know you're not serious all the time."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well obviously you've got the sarcasm thing down." He paused as they watched Robert Newman hit a ball that sent Mike all the way home, and as Natalie stepped up to bat, he stood. "Plus," he added, "you totally laugh at my jokes."

"I do not!"

"Oh yeah, you do." Tom swung the bat a couple of times; Lynette tried and failed to keep her eyes off of his arms as he did this. She hadn't seen him in a t-shirt before, and the view was even better than she'd expected. "And you try to keep it a secret too, but you always get this funny little twitch in the corner of your mouth. So I've gotta wonder, why don't you want me to know you think I'm funny?"

"I'm afraid you're going to fall over if your head gets any bigger," she said, quickly falling back on tried and true habits to cover her embarrassment. At the same time, she tugged her hat back on to hide the slight flush of her cheeks. It was disconcerting to realize how transparent she was, especially considering how often Tom made her laugh. As much as she'd been convinced that it would be horrible for him to know she thought he was funny, she now realized that it was so much worse for him to know she was hiding it. The whole thing was absurd; laughing or not laughing—it shouldn't have mattered at all.

Realizing that silence had stretched between them much longer than it should have, Lynette reluctantly raised her eyes to look at him. He was smiling at her in an oddly bothersome way, and she thought she probably hadn't fooled him at all. "You know what?" he said, swinging the bat again. "I'm going to make you laugh today. Right out loud."

Before Lynette could respond, someone called out, "Scavo, you're up!" and Tom walked away with one last cocky grin. She should be infuriated, she thought, even more annoyed than she'd been with Carter. But the truth was that her heart had sped up a little and her palms were sweaty, and she wondered just what he was going to do.

The first two innings soared by with them leading three to two, and it wasn't until the third inning that she found herself side-by-side with Tom again. He'd just scored their fourth run, and he sat down next to her, taking off his hat and wiping the sweat off his forehead. Wordlessly, she handed him a bottle of water, and he chugged about half of it before addressing her.

"Despite my fear of getting my foot smashed again, I'd like to point out that your boyfriend just threw his mitt halfway to home plate."

"So much for having the fastest arm in the west."

"Does he listen when he talks?"

"No one listens when he talks."

She stood as Tom laughed, picking up her bat and walking away with a slightly triumphant smile on her face. The sound was like an adrenaline rush, and when she went to bat a minute later, the crack of the ball connecting with her bat was more than worth whatever humiliation she was bound to suffer at the end of their bantering. Somehow flirting didn't seem so innocent when it caused her heart to pound like a jackhammer.

They were only playing to five innings, and by bottom of the fourth they had an eight point lead that made Lynette feel fairly confident that they were going to be victorious. As they switched from the outfield to the bench for the fifth inning, Lynette stood by the fence grinning as Shawn and Carter engaged in a screaming match. From what she could tell, Shawn was holding Carter responsible as the pitcher and trying to bench him, but Carter wasn't willing to give up the spot. It was a little twisted how delighted she was at watching their faces get progressively redder.

"I think this is the end of the game," said Natalie, swinging her bat over her shoulder and leaning slightly against the fence. "Which one of them is going to throw the first punch?"

"They're not—" Lynette stopped short as Shawn decked Carter. All of a sudden, the field erupted in mass chaos, people running from all directions to either spur on or try to pull apart Shawn and Carter.

"Yeah, that's the game," repeated Natalie. "Don't feel bad. Happens every year. At least we won."

Lynette shook her head, torn between awe and disgust at the sight of the two men trying to rip each other's heads off over a softball game. Still, there was a silver lining: the chance to slip away from Carter unnoticed. "I'm gonna go," she told Natalie absentmindedly. "Do me a favor and tell Carter I found a ride home."

"Do you have a ride home?"

"Doesn't matter. Just tell him, okay?"

Natalie shrugged and then shrieked as her husband got decked by one of Shawn's stray punches, hurrying onto the field and giving Lynette the perfect opportunity to leave. Technically, it was probably still too early to leave the picnic altogether, but she needed at least a few minutes to clear her head. Without much thought about where to go, she simply headed in the opposite direction of the crowd, past the playground and toward the rec building. There was a pool behind the building, and as it didn't open until Monday, it was bound to be deserted.

The only person near the building was a teenager smoking a cigarette who barely glanced at her as she passed. If there was anyone who could be counted on not to give a damn, it was a surly teen. Silently, she walked around the building and approached the fence that surrounded the pool. They'd already filled it in preparation for the Memorial Day crowds, the water calm and undisturbed. She'd never thought of a public pool as beautiful before, but empty like this, untainted, there was something oddly attractive about the water.

"You going in?"

"Jeez!" Lynette spun around, hand on her heart, and glared at the offending party. It was Tom. Somehow she wasn't the least bit surprised. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

Tom shrugged, actually looking a little sheepish. "You just kind of ran out of the game. I wanted to make sure that you were okay…and clearly you are."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Carter—"

"Carter is not my boyfriend," she groaned, rolling her eyes. In the jesting earlier, she'd thought that Tom, at least, understood that. "We car pooled here and apparently he took that to mean we're on a date. We're not."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." Annoyed, she turned back to the fence, sizing it up in less than ten seconds and rashly sticking the toe of her shoe through a hole to begin to climb it. Often her impulsive decisions led no where good, but in the heat of the moment they always seemed like the best instincts. And nothing seemed like a better idea at this minute than hopping this fence and getting into that pool.

"What are you doing? Lynette?"

Reaching the top of the fence, she swung one leg and then the other over, climbing about halfway down before jumping the rest of the way. She landed gracefully, but her heels throbbed from hitting the concrete, and she didn't hesitate to toe off her sneakers. Behind her, she could hear Tom scrambling up the fence as well, but she didn't bother to look or comment. He was going to do what he felt like; it didn't matter to her one way or the other. Slowly, she rolled her jeans up to her knees, walked the short distance to the edge of the pool, sat down and dipped her feet into the icy water.

"We could probably get arrested for this, you know."

Lynette pulled off her baseball cap and tossed it aside, glancing up at Tom as he came over and sat down next to her. He made an exaggerated show of shivering as he put his feet in the pool, and she halfheartedly rolled her eyes. "It's just nice seeing it like this," she said quietly. "We're the first people who have been in this water."

"That's probably a testament for private pools."

She smiled faintly, stretching her neck again, and still not managing to work out the knots. For the second time that day, the movement attracted attention—without warning, Tom shifted so he was almost behind her, his hands settled on her shoulders, and his thumbs gently began to knead the sore muscles in her neck. She stiffened for only a second at his unexpected touch, and then gave in to the sensation, trying not to read too much into her easy acquiescence.

"You're all knots," said Tom quietly—the first serious words she'd heard from him all day. "Don't you ever relax?"

"Who has the time?"

Tom tisked her gently, but it sounded less like disapproval and more like concern. "This is why you should let yourself laugh. You'd be much less tense."

"I laugh."

"You smile. Occasionally, you chuckle. But in the two months I've known you, I've never heard you really laugh."

"That's ridiculous."

"Hmm," Tom hummed, working his way from her neck to her shoulders. Incredibly, she could actually feel the tension leaving her upper back, her body relaxing for what felt like the first time since she'd started this job. And at the same time, her pulse was racing—a contradiction of feeling in the best possible way. He was making her forget that there was a whole world out there beyond this idyllic moment, and she was absolutely willing to go along with it.

"Do you ever just want to disappear for awhile?"

Tom didn't respond. Slowly, his fingers stilled, hands coming to rest on her upper arms, and then without warning, she felt his lips brush the back of her neck. She sucked in a breath, her eyes shutting at the sensation of his nose trailing feather-light against her neck, and wondered in the scale of her whole life, how stupid she would be not to put a stop to this now.

She didn't want to put a stop to it.

He continued to kiss her, just these tiny, soft movements of his lips against her skin, and then as if sensing she wasn't going to stop him, one of his arms wrapped around her chest, the other drifting down to her hip and then up under her shirt. His hand settled against her skin, scalding her, but he didn't push it further. "You have no idea," he whispered, kissing her right beneath her ear, "how long I've been waiting to do this."

"Tom…" A plea, an admonition, a hope, a fear… She had no idea what she was doing, long past the point of rational thought and ready to just feel. She was so very tired of overanalyzing every little thing she did.

She turned her head, eyes skating up to meet his, and he lifted his hands to cup her cheeks. There was a look on his face that she never could have imagined in a lifetime of dreaming, soft and tender, and yet so very, very desirous. It almost hurt to see him stare at her that way, but there was still an interminable pause before she finally leaned forward and met his lips. Slowly, his lips parted, capturing her bottom lip in one heated movement; her hand curled around his shirt. It was so overwhelming that she had to remind herself to breathe.

"Wow," she said, resting her forehead against his. A soft giggle escaped from her, turning into a sigh midway, and she repeated herself. "Wow."

Tom kissed her nose, chuckling and grinning like an idiot, and she bit her lip, fighting a similar expression. "You're doing it again," he said. His eyes were laughing at her.

"What?"

"Not letting yourself laugh."

"No—"

She didn't have the chance to protest. Tom's arms dropped to her sides, fingers dancing over her ribs and stomach, up under her arms, and she shrieked with laughter. "Ooh," he said, a wicked thrill in his eyes. "You're ticklish!"

"Tom! Stop it!" She squirmed against him, feet thrashing, but he continued to torture her, apparently delighting in the sound of her giggling. It didn't take much, just the barest touch, but now that he knew how sensitive she was, he seemed to be taking full advantage of her weakness. He leaned forward, his right index finger digging into an especially vulnerable spot, and she bucked backward, losing her balance and toppling into the pool. Wrapped around her, Tom could only tumble in with her, letting her go as they hit the water.

She broke the surface, sputtering and pushing her bangs out of her eyes, her mouth open in a round 'o' of surprise. Across from her, Tom was grinning, easily able to stand where she could barely touch the ground on tiptoe. Despite herself, Lynette continued to giggle, apparently unable to stop now that she'd started.

"So this is funny, huh?" he joked.

"Pretty funny, yeah."

"Uh-huh. We'll see about that!" He lunged for her, and she yelped, trying and failing to swim out of his arm's length in time. He caught her around the middle, pulling her back and turning her around to face him, and as suddenly as it had started, her laughter ceased. His chest was heaving against her, his heart pounding underneath her hand, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach increase tenfold. Unhesitatingly, he kissed her again, harder and more passionately, until Lynette felt for sure that she'd pass out from a lack of oxygen.

"I want you," said Tom, his breathing ragged as he continued to press kisses all over her face and neck. It felt like he was confessing a long held secret. "God, I do."

Lynette put her hands to his cheeks, stilling his movement long enough that she could look into his eyes. There was some overpowering lust there now—one that sent a dangerous thrill down her spine and made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. Right now maybe she was.

He kissed her again, quickly, and then pushed her hair back from her face. "We don't have to—"

"Yes we do."

It was all the affirmation Tom needed. In a frenzy, they began to peel off their clothes, shirts sticking to their skin and pants a struggle to pull down. Still, it wasn't long before their clothes were floating on the water around them, all but forgotten as she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him again. His chest was slick and smooth against hers as he pulled her tightly to him—he was so thick and solid, all strong muscle—and in the water, every sensation felt magnified in some strange, inexplicable way.

"God, you feel so good," Tom mumbled into her mouth. His hands drifted from her lower back to her ass and she moaned. She could feel him, hard as a rock against her thigh, but they were so tightly fused together that she couldn't reach down to grab him. Impatiently, she pulled back, but Tom followed her; his lips were firm and persistent against hers, tongue warring with hers like they couldn't possibly get close enough. She wasn't sure that they could.

"Tom," she gasped as he nipped her bottom lip. "Tom…Need you…Inside…"

He continued to kiss her, and for a moment Lynette wondered if he had even heard her, but then his hands settled on her hips, shifting her, and he pushed forward, and suddenly everything clicked into place. She gasped as he entered her; pressing so deeply into her that she could scarcely breathe. He felt incredible—so indescribably incredible—and she was so full that she was going to burst.

"Fuck, you're tight," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Oh, fuck, yes."

Tom grinned, laughing a little. "You are amazing. You know that right? So fucking amazing."

Lynette shook her head, kissing him again as his hands tightened on her hips and he slowly began to move against her. In the water, it was harder to find a rhythm, and in an effort to increase the friction, she squeezed her inner muscles tight around him. Tom groaned into her mouth, fingers clenching around her skin so hard that it would probably bruise as she dug her nails into his shoulders. The water lapped around them, the frigidity contrasting with the heat between them. The multitude of sensations seemed to intensify everything, and Lynette could feel her orgasm building like a storm.

"Fuck," she mumbled into his mouth. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Tom seemed to take her mantra as encouragement, moving even faster against her, and Lynette threw her head back, gasping for breath. She was going to die—it was all just too much.

Realizing how close she was, Tom moved his hand from her hip back to her ass, running his finger over the sensitive skin there as he continued to pound into her. She arched her back, squeezing her eyes shut as she finally found release, wave after wave of pleasure flowing over her in unbearable ecstasy. Quickly, Tom pulled out of her, his dick pressing into her stomach as he seized up with her, hands gripping her like a vise. And then, just a bundle of contradictions, his touch suddenly became beyond gentle again, pulling her close and hugging her.

"Amazing," he whispered into her neck, following the words with a kiss. "And beautiful, and fantastic, and you are just…"

Lynette nuzzled her nose against his shoulder, and then turned her head to rest there, unable to keep the smile off of her face. She didn't think she could talk even if she wanted to, but something about this moment leant itself to silence. It was still their world, even as reality crept around the outside like the falling night, and for now there was no one else. This was it. This was…

"…Everything."