(no subject)
Title: Please Have Snow and Mistletoe
Author: Juno
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Timeline: Post 'Come Back to Me', pre 'Love Is In the Air'.
for khindin. FINALLY. Sorry that I suck at, y'know, living up to deadlines.
This year, the annual Wisteria Lane holiday block party feels hollow and superfical to Bree.
And normally, hollow and superfical are just the things that Bree needs to get her mind off her troubles, but well, the holidays are something different. Bree had once thought that she could never be sad when the lights glowed and decorations were hung, but at divorce’s door with her cheating husband, she is without a doubt miserable.
She, of course, tries to hide it, and she smiles brightly at all the neighbors and thank them for their compliments on her gingerbread houses and fruit cakes, the best they’ve ever had, they tell her. But then she is not surprised. Bree is used to being the best. Except of course, with her husband, where apparently she is second, and that is being generous.
She pushes the thoughts from her mind and tries to enjoy the evening and tries to avoid the husband that was causing her such ire. Of course, with her luck when they do accidently cross paths, it is in the worst possible place.
Edie Britt offered her bathroom for the masses, the only one on the block not disturbed by the idea of God knows who marching in and out of her house (and leaving who knows what destruction in their wake, Bree had added mentally, as she had locked the door to her own house).
He is coming, she is going.
And he is chatting calmly with Susan Mayer, who followed him in with the same intentions he had, clearly, and Susan does not seem to notice the sudden drop in the temperature when Bree opens the door to the bathroom to emerge once more, and sees her husband.
“Oh,” she says coolly. “Rex.” She knows Susan does not know about their impending divorce and she does not want Susan to know about it yet, but she cannot summon any warmth into her voice for the man who broke her heart.
“Having a good time?” he asks her casually, and she crosses her arms, instinctively closing herself off to him. She hates that he seems so unaffected, because for her, staying or going seem equally horrible and eat away at her every moment of every day. Did she mean so little, had he drifted so far, that he simply did not care either way anymore? Did he spare a thought for her at all anymore?
It didn’t matter if he did or didn’t, she reminds herself fiercely, because she is leaving him. He betrayed her, and she is leaving him, so he is the one who doesn’t matter anymore.
She wants to search his face for a sign of regret, but she fears if she does, she may turn back and forgive him. And Bree? Bree does not want to forgive.
“Oh! Mistletoe!” Susan exclaims suddenly, still oblivious to the thick tension in the air between husband and wife, and she points to the doorframe to the bathroom, causing both Rex and Bree to look up.
Bree bristled. Of course. Of course Edie Britt would hang mistletoe over the bathroom, no doubt hoping to cause awkward situations such as this.
And, of course, it shouldn’t be awkward. He is her husband. She is his wife. Far worse possibilities could-and probably would-occur, and it shouldn’t be so scary that she is supposed to kiss him now. But it is, and it’s awful, and Susan is looking at them expectantly, an unassuming and honest smile on her face.
“Well, go on, you two,” she chirps. “It’s tradition!”
Bree watches Rex smirk slightly and her eyes narrow in anger. He thinks she’ll refuse. He thinks she’ll say something snippy and storm away, and clearly he doesn’t know her at all if he thinks she wouldn’t do anything to keep from giving their neighbors such fodder for gossip, God forbid.
So she turns to him, giving him a small, tight smile and then reaches one hand behind his neck, resting the other on his shoulder, and pulls him in so that she can kiss him.
And his lips are soft and warm and familiar, and for a moment he stands shock-still, obviously surprised by her sudden course of action.
So she runs her tongue feather light over his upper lip and then the inside of his bottom lip when he instinctively opens his mouth to hers. She is fueled partly by bitterness-let him realize what he gave up, let him realize that he could have had all of this and all of her, always, but he ruined it-and part of it is a longing on her part, as she realizes that with their settlement meetings approaching, this small accident of fate will most likely be the last chance she has to touch the man she loved-loves-so very well.
She feels Rex’s hands come up to grip her hips before his arms slide around her back to press her close. As his brain begins to process what is going on, he responds to her with surprising eagerness, and she feels a flutter of lust in her stomach at the spread of his hands on her back and the strength of his arms and chest, and his mouth opening wider against hers, sensations she had nearly forgotten.
But the rational part of her mind reminds her that they are being watched and that she is divorcing him, so she moves her hands to his chest and gives him a small but firm push so that he releases her. His eyes are wide and surprised as he stares at her, and she turns to Susan with a tight smile on her face.
“I think I’ll see if Lynette needs any help whipping up another round of eggnog,” Bree says brightly, pushing past her stunned husband and a confused Susan and heading towards the front door.
She hears his footsteps following her out of Edie’s house, but she doesn’t turn to him until he calls her name.
“Bree.”
And then she turns sharply, keeping a good two feet of distance between them. “Yes?” Her voice is a bit higher pitched that normal, and she hopes that he does not notice.
He frowns in confusion, wrinkling his brow, and for a moment Bree feels a pang of tenderness for him. But then she thinks of her husband, her husband and Maisy Gibbons and the tenderness is gone and she wants him to hurt.
“What…” he trails off, obviously lost for words, and she smirks, seeing her opportunity.
“It’s just tradition, Rex,” she says haughtily, and then she turns away from him again, plastering a smile on her face as she approaches Lynette sitting on the steps to her house.
Sorry that it's short and that it took so long to PRODUCE something so short. I fully admit that I kinda suck at life. :-P
Author: Juno
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Timeline: Post 'Come Back to Me', pre 'Love Is In the Air'.
for khindin. FINALLY. Sorry that I suck at, y'know, living up to deadlines.
This year, the annual Wisteria Lane holiday block party feels hollow and superfical to Bree.
And normally, hollow and superfical are just the things that Bree needs to get her mind off her troubles, but well, the holidays are something different. Bree had once thought that she could never be sad when the lights glowed and decorations were hung, but at divorce’s door with her cheating husband, she is without a doubt miserable.
She, of course, tries to hide it, and she smiles brightly at all the neighbors and thank them for their compliments on her gingerbread houses and fruit cakes, the best they’ve ever had, they tell her. But then she is not surprised. Bree is used to being the best. Except of course, with her husband, where apparently she is second, and that is being generous.
She pushes the thoughts from her mind and tries to enjoy the evening and tries to avoid the husband that was causing her such ire. Of course, with her luck when they do accidently cross paths, it is in the worst possible place.
Edie Britt offered her bathroom for the masses, the only one on the block not disturbed by the idea of God knows who marching in and out of her house (and leaving who knows what destruction in their wake, Bree had added mentally, as she had locked the door to her own house).
He is coming, she is going.
And he is chatting calmly with Susan Mayer, who followed him in with the same intentions he had, clearly, and Susan does not seem to notice the sudden drop in the temperature when Bree opens the door to the bathroom to emerge once more, and sees her husband.
“Oh,” she says coolly. “Rex.” She knows Susan does not know about their impending divorce and she does not want Susan to know about it yet, but she cannot summon any warmth into her voice for the man who broke her heart.
“Having a good time?” he asks her casually, and she crosses her arms, instinctively closing herself off to him. She hates that he seems so unaffected, because for her, staying or going seem equally horrible and eat away at her every moment of every day. Did she mean so little, had he drifted so far, that he simply did not care either way anymore? Did he spare a thought for her at all anymore?
It didn’t matter if he did or didn’t, she reminds herself fiercely, because she is leaving him. He betrayed her, and she is leaving him, so he is the one who doesn’t matter anymore.
She wants to search his face for a sign of regret, but she fears if she does, she may turn back and forgive him. And Bree? Bree does not want to forgive.
“Oh! Mistletoe!” Susan exclaims suddenly, still oblivious to the thick tension in the air between husband and wife, and she points to the doorframe to the bathroom, causing both Rex and Bree to look up.
Bree bristled. Of course. Of course Edie Britt would hang mistletoe over the bathroom, no doubt hoping to cause awkward situations such as this.
And, of course, it shouldn’t be awkward. He is her husband. She is his wife. Far worse possibilities could-and probably would-occur, and it shouldn’t be so scary that she is supposed to kiss him now. But it is, and it’s awful, and Susan is looking at them expectantly, an unassuming and honest smile on her face.
“Well, go on, you two,” she chirps. “It’s tradition!”
Bree watches Rex smirk slightly and her eyes narrow in anger. He thinks she’ll refuse. He thinks she’ll say something snippy and storm away, and clearly he doesn’t know her at all if he thinks she wouldn’t do anything to keep from giving their neighbors such fodder for gossip, God forbid.
So she turns to him, giving him a small, tight smile and then reaches one hand behind his neck, resting the other on his shoulder, and pulls him in so that she can kiss him.
And his lips are soft and warm and familiar, and for a moment he stands shock-still, obviously surprised by her sudden course of action.
So she runs her tongue feather light over his upper lip and then the inside of his bottom lip when he instinctively opens his mouth to hers. She is fueled partly by bitterness-let him realize what he gave up, let him realize that he could have had all of this and all of her, always, but he ruined it-and part of it is a longing on her part, as she realizes that with their settlement meetings approaching, this small accident of fate will most likely be the last chance she has to touch the man she loved-loves-so very well.
She feels Rex’s hands come up to grip her hips before his arms slide around her back to press her close. As his brain begins to process what is going on, he responds to her with surprising eagerness, and she feels a flutter of lust in her stomach at the spread of his hands on her back and the strength of his arms and chest, and his mouth opening wider against hers, sensations she had nearly forgotten.
But the rational part of her mind reminds her that they are being watched and that she is divorcing him, so she moves her hands to his chest and gives him a small but firm push so that he releases her. His eyes are wide and surprised as he stares at her, and she turns to Susan with a tight smile on her face.
“I think I’ll see if Lynette needs any help whipping up another round of eggnog,” Bree says brightly, pushing past her stunned husband and a confused Susan and heading towards the front door.
She hears his footsteps following her out of Edie’s house, but she doesn’t turn to him until he calls her name.
“Bree.”
And then she turns sharply, keeping a good two feet of distance between them. “Yes?” Her voice is a bit higher pitched that normal, and she hopes that he does not notice.
He frowns in confusion, wrinkling his brow, and for a moment Bree feels a pang of tenderness for him. But then she thinks of her husband, her husband and Maisy Gibbons and the tenderness is gone and she wants him to hurt.
“What…” he trails off, obviously lost for words, and she smirks, seeing her opportunity.
“It’s just tradition, Rex,” she says haughtily, and then she turns away from him again, plastering a smile on her face as she approaches Lynette sitting on the steps to her house.
Sorry that it's short and that it took so long to PRODUCE something so short. I fully admit that I kinda suck at life. :-P