Disclaimer: I don't own Desperate Housewives. Surprise, surprise.

A/n: Just as a head's up, when I post chapter 10 I'm going to bump the rating to M. There's turning out to be more sex in this than I planned. Life's funny like that. In this chapter only the final section is rated M, so beware of that if it's not your thing. Thanks again for the reviews!

The Hour Shadows Disappear

A story by Ryeloza

Part Nine: Lost in Translation

Miscommunication

Tom pulled a sweatshirt over his head and wriggled his feet into his tennis shoes at the same time. He felt ridiculous being awake so early on a Sunday, but Charlie had called late the night before to ask if they could move up their meeting time for the move that day and Tom would be damned if he had to call Shawn to replace his friend. As it was, the trailer rental place was clear across town and if Tom was going to make it there and then to his apartment by nine, he had to get moving.

He glanced at Lynette, who had promptly rolled into the middle of the bed as soon as he'd vacated his side, and leaned over her prone form, one hand braced on the headboard and the other lain on the small of her back. "Hey, sweetie," he said gently. "I'm heading out." Lynette gave an indistinguishable grunt of acknowledgement and Tom kissed the top of her head. "I'll see you at nine." To that, Lynette gave no response, but Tom just smiled and rubbed her back for a second before leaving her be. Without another word, he dug her birthday card and present out of his sock drawer and set them on the dresser where she was sure to find them before heading out.

The morning went more smoothly than Tom expected. There was little traffic and he made it to his apartment with time to spare and Charlie, early as usual, was already there with coffee. Inside he found that the boxes were all stacked in the living room, and he realized that while Lynette was off of work on Friday she must have come over and buzzed through the apartment in some fit of organization. In any case, it made the entire process easier and Tom said a grateful prayer for her common sense.

It wasn't until after the fourth trip down to the trailer that Charlie remarked on Lynette's absence and it wasn't until after the ninth trip that Tom started to get a little worried. Lynette, like him, could be a little harried in the morning, but she wasn't usually late. Finally, around ten o'clock, he borrowed Charlie's cell phone to call her, but he was only halfway through dialing when she walked through the open door, looking around at the nearly-empty apartment curiously. Tom tossed the phone on his recliner chair—the only piece of furniture left in the room—and walked over to greet her.

"Happy birthday, beautiful." Tom kissed her and tugged playfully on her ponytail. "You're late."

"We agreed ten o'clock." Lynette glanced at her watch. "It's ten now."

"I told you last night that Charlie has to be at Veronica's parents' at one for lunch. We bumped back the time to nine."

"You never told me that."

Tom opened his mouth to argue and then thought better of it; it was her birthday, after all, and she was spending most of the day helping him move. "Fine," he said, and with a frown she seemed to realize he was only acquiescing, not admitting he was wrong. "We almost have everything in the trailer already. We'll be ready to go in another twenty minutes."

Lynette glanced around the room. All that remained were a few boxes and the chair, over which they'd argued for quite some time. Lynette had wanted to put in storage but Tom had insisted would fit in the new place. She'd eventually given in, but Tom wasn't convinced the victory was more than temporary until she moved in as well.

"Hey Lynette," greeted Charlie as he passed her with three boxes balanced in his hands. "Sleeping in on the job?"

Lynette made a face Tom had come to realize meant she was gearing up for a fight and he preemptively struck. "Okay!" he said loudly, clapping his hands together before Lynette could say anything. "Why don't we get these last few boxes downstairs and then Charlie and I can come back for the chair." He picked up a box labeled "bathroom stuff" and handed it to Lynette, who now looked more cross than ever. "Come on, cheer up. You're going to get to spend the whole afternoon arranging the apartment and then we're going out for an amazingly romantic birthday dinner. And tonight we're going to break in the new place with some mind-altering birthday sex."

"You're right," agreed Lynette. "Arranging the apartment will be fun."

Tom gave her a dirty look and handed her another box.

Breakdown

Their new apartment was in the basement of the building with the only access via a set of thickly carpeted stairs. There were two other apartments in the basement, one directly next to theirs and the other across the hall, but Tom didn't see any of their new neighbors in his frequent trips between the parking lot and the apartment. By noon Charlie left, and Tom carried the last box of stuff down the apartment feeling triumphant in how quickly they'd pulled off the move. The feeling lasted until he opened the door and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted him was rather overwhelming. He'd known that the apartment was small—a bedroom, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen so tiny that they wouldn't be able to stand side-by-side in the width of it—but as he passed by the closet right next to the front door and caught sight of the sea of boxes in the living room, reality set in: they would be tripping all over one another in here. Lynette, who stood in the middle of the room surveying the chaos, seemed to be thinking similarly if her expression was any indication. Tom dropped the final box on the floor with sigh.

"We're going to have to put more in storage," Lynette said, choosing to be practical instead of distraught. He could tell she was on the verge of losing that battle though. "There's no way this will all fit."

"It'll be fine," he said. If sensibility was Lynette's form of denial, his was out-and-out lies.

"How is this—" she gestured around the room with sweeping arms, "—going to be fine? This place is the size of a shoebox."

"So we'll be cozy."

"More like claustrophobic. There aren't even any windows!"

Tom glanced around as if he would magically spot a pane of glass where she didn't. "Okay. Okay. We need to take a step back and relax. This is all going to be okay."

"Oh really? Why? Because you say so?" she snapped sarcastically. He ignored her bite.

"Why don't we start with something we absolutely need? Like the bed. Let's reassemble the bed."

It never hurt to appeal to Lynette's rational side and this time was no exception. She let out a tense breath, nodded and began to step over and around the mess of boxes in the living room while Tom took the two steps that remained between himself and the bedroom. He and Charlie had dumped the various parts of the bed and the mattress inside along with his toolbox, and Tom didn't doubt that he and Lynette would make quick work of the project.

An hour later, tired and annoyed and sweaty, they flipped the mattress onto the bed and stood back to survey the damage. It took approximately ten seconds of staring at the monstrously big bed in the horrifically tiny room for Lynette to burst into tears. Impatient due to his own frustration with the situation, Tom just sank down on the mattress and buried his head in his hands.

"What the hell were we thinking?" she asked, hiccupping slightly on her sobs. "We're going to be stuck here for a year."

"No we're not," said Tom stubbornly. "We sublet for six months. We just have the option of extending our lease for another six months after that. And obviously we're not going to."

"Because we'll have killed each other by then!"

Tom groaned and lifted his head, crooking his fingers through her belt-loops and yanking her into his lap. "We are not going to kill each other."

"We couldn't even put this bed together without fighting!"

"That's because this bed is the creation of Satan himself."

Lynette half-laughed, half-sobbed and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I hate this place."

"I know," said Tom. He sighed and ran his hands up and down her spine. "I do too."

Distance

It was hard to say what the worst part of the day was after that. Possibly it was when Lynette opened the bedroom closet to discover that a central heating unit took up a majority of the space. Perhaps it was when Tom realized he was going to have to choose between his chair and the television and nearly blew a gasket. It might even have been when Lynette finally got a good look at the bathroom—a horrifically tiled throwback to the seventies. Whatever the moment was, by eight o'clock they had over half of the boxes and some furniture back in the trailer to take to the storage unit the next day.

"What do you want to do?" asked Tom, sitting down on the bumper of the trailer and crossing his arms. Lynette shrugged, not indifferently, but upset.

"It's still your birthday. We missed our reservation, but we could still go out."

"I don't want to go out."

Tom struggled to keep his temper in check. "Well what do you want to do?" he said through slightly clenched teeth.

"I want to take a bath, but our new bathroom doesn't have a bathtub."

"Well I can't do anything about that."

"Obviously." Lynette pushed a strand of hair off of her forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt in its wake, and then crossed her arms. She looked pissy and sullen and all of it seemed directed at him, as though this was solely his fault and not a decision they'd made together.

"You don't have to stay here, you know. You still have your apartment for a whole month."

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm just saying, you don't have to stay on my account."

"Fine."

"Fine."

They glared at one another for a moment and then Lynette gave him another angry shrug of her shoulders. He'd never known someone who could make a shrug so offensive. "I guess I'll see you later then," she said.

"Fine."

Lynette took off across the parking lot to her car without saying another word, leaving Tom sitting alone in the in the cold night air.

Words

Tom was still angry when he went to bed that evening, even going so far as to give the bed a swift kick before he climbed under the covers. For a day that had started so smoothly, nothing had gone right in the end and to top it all off he was spending the night alone for the first time since he'd gotten engaged. Logically he knew that he could spend the entirety of January in Lynette's apartment and not once step foot in the new place, but that was only putting off what was going to be their only reality come February.

After trying to read for a little while to calm his nerves and having no success, Tom finally turned off the light and began to toss and turn, strangely uncomfortable without Lynette beside him. He hadn't realized how accustomed he was to sharing a bed with her; how her presence and the sound of her deep breathing and the warmth of her body next to his had become a soothing way to lull him to sleep. It seemed futile to even try without her.

Just as Tom considered going to the living room to let the horrors of late night cable-less television knock him out, he heard a key turn in the lock of the front door and his heart sped up. It was after midnight and the day had been long and exhausting, and Tom couldn't quite believe that she had really come back until she stepped into the bedroom, a silhouette he could just barely make out in the dark.

"Hi," he said quietly. Lynette padded across the floor and climbed into bed next to him without saying a word, laying her head on his chest and breathing a deep sigh when he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Me too. I shouldn't have left like I did."

"I should have gone after you."

"It's probably good that you didn't. I needed to cool down."

Tom pressed his nose against the top of her head and let the scent of her shampoo relax him. Already he could feel the sleep that had eluded him creep up, making his eyes heavy and his body calm. "Why'd you come back?

"I found the birthday present you left me. I missed it this morning because I was in a hurry."

"Because you were late," Tom couldn't help but say.

"Yeah. I was." She paused for a moment and then tilted her head up to press a kiss against his neck. "Thank you. That jewelry box is just beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."

"It was my grandmother's. My mom held on to it after she died, but she never used it, so she said I could have it. I thought you'd like it."

"I do." She yawned and burrowed down further into his chest, clearly ready to sleep. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Actions

The next morning, Tom woke up early for work and stumbled into the bathroom, trying his best not to wake Lynette. She'd been lucky enough to take a vacation day in order to finish unpacking and arranging the apartment, but he was still stuck going to work. He was surprised, then, when she entered the bathroom just after he finished brushing his teeth. "Morning," he said, curiously, and all he got in return was a smile as Lynette sidled between him and the sink.

Without a word, Lynette hopped up onto the counter around the bathroom sink with a sultry look in her eye that Tom knew all too well. Apparently after the horrible day they'd had yesterday, she was ready to make up for lost opportunities. For a second, he contemplated how wonderful it would be to indulge her, but then reality set in and he finished lathering his face with shaving cream. He had to go to work, and he couldn't be deterred just because she was sitting there with tousled hair and hungry eyes.

Tom wiped the excess shaving cream on a towel and reached for his razor, but Lynette picked it up first, fingering it lightly. "Let me?" she asked, her voice still rusty with sleepiness. She spread her legs slightly and Tom assented by stepping in between her knees, his eyes taking in her every move as she brought the razor up against his cheek. Carefully but confidently, Lynette began to skim the razor over his skin, following the contours of his face with a masterful possession. There was something sensual about watching her work—a blended combination of her command, presence and concentration that made him want to pull her to him and have his way with her right on the sink. Gently, she tilted his head back so she could reach his neck, working around his Adam's apple with cautious precision. When she finished, she wiped away what remained of the shaving cream with the towel and ran a delicate finger over his cheek. "Perfect," she said quietly, and she ever-so-slightly shifted, arching her back and widening the spread of her legs. It was unfair, but effective. Unable to resist her any longer, Tom wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her closer and kissing her desperately.

Lynette twisted her legs around Tom's waist, fusing them tightly together while Tom's mouth went on to ravish her neck and his hand entangled in her hair, pulling her head back just a little to give him easier access. Already they were both breathing more heavily and as Lynette's breasts began to heave, Tom moved his mouth further down to place wet, open-mouthed kisses where they swelled out of her tank top. Lynette dug her heels into the backs of his thighs in response, forcing the lower halves of their bodies into even closer contact.

Hurriedly, Tom dragged his hands down her back and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and she braced her hands on the sink so she could lift herself as he slipped them down. Reluctantly, she unwrapped her legs in order for him to get them both naked from the waist down, a task Tom performed in record time. As he kicked away their pajamas, Lynette spread her legs widely and leaned back, putting one hand behind her on the sink and grasping the side of the counter with the other. Tom took one long, greedy look at her and then positioned himself, sliding into her in one fluid motion while his hands grasped either side of the sink. Despite her precarious position, Tom immediately began to thrust hard and fast, drinking in the sight of her: eyes shut; mouth parted; breasts bouncing. Lynette began to make a noise somewhere between a pant and a moan and Tom moved even quicker, lost in the feel of her tight and wet and slick against him. When she suddenly shifted, drawing her right leg up onto the counter, he was able to push deeper inside of her, and with a few last hurried thrusts, he climaxed, gripping the counter white-knuckled as he came. Lynette whimpered as he quickly came down with a few final erratic movements, and he pressed his thumb against her, almost fiercely rolling and twisting her clit until she screamed, her inner muscles squeezing him like a vice as she reached ecstasy.

"Holy shit," she said breathlessly, laying her head back against the vanity above the sink and exhaustedly lowering her leg. "Oh my God, Tom…"

Tom ran his hands up her thighs and around her back, coaxing her forward so he could kiss her. The time…work…life itself seemed completely unimportant compared to the woman in front of him and Tom found himself unable to step away. "Do you hear something?" she asked as Tom played with the curls of hair that framed her face.

"Huh?"

Lynette shrugged, apparently unconcerned, and leaned her forehead against his, sighing happily. "Well that's one way to break in the new bathroom," she said. And then, just as Tom chuckled, she sat up again, saying, "Shh! Do you here that? Is someone knocking at the door?"

Tom paused, listening, and after a moment he heard it too—a distinct knocking sound. "It sounds like…Is it coming through the wall?"

Lynette cocked her head to the side, but the sound ceased and she frowned. "Why would someone be knocking on the wall?"

"Well you were screaming."

"Me? What about you? You're not exactly a mouse when we're having sex." Lynette's eyes widened. "Wait, you think someone heard us?"

Tom shrugged. "The bedroom and bathroom share a wall with our neighbor. It's probably not soundproof."

"Tom!"

"What?" He grasped her wrist and turned it to look at her watch. "Crap. I'll be lucky if I make it on time." He stepped away from her and turned on the shower, thinking he'd have just enough time to soap up and rinse off if he hurried. "Can you pick out a suit for me?"

"That's all you have to say? Tom, if we weren't sharing a post-euphoric hallucination we might have a big problem on our hands."

Tom threw his t-shirt on the floor with his pants and stepped into the shower, not bothering to pull the curtain closed. "I think you're overreacting. Don't get worked up about this."

Lynette jumped off of the counter and left the room without responding. As he was running late, Tom didn't bother to question this; in retrospect, he'd come to regret the oversight.