DH ficlet
Yes I know I suck. I post a drabble challenge on my other lj then don't have any reponses because I am immediately hit by writers block. Of course it doesn't help that the 2 drabbles out of the challenges that I want to write are connected to films I haven't actually seen yet (The Hours and Home for the Holidays) Still I'm sorry Angie and Lily. Here's a DH ficlet in lieu of drabbles for you.
Title: Phases
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Pairing: Bree/Lynette
Rating: PG
Word Count: 469
A/N: Set in season 1 (however inspired by a comment in the last DH ep about Andrew's homosexuality being 'just a phases') Beware large doses of religious melodrama contained within...
Bree Mason was 8 years old when her new stepmother taught her about sex. As a young girl Bree didn’t fully understand words such as ‘copulation.’ However the frown on her stepmother’s face made it perfectly clear ’fornication,’ brought with it another set of strict standards to live up to.
At age 13 Bree began to notice the changes to her body reflected in the girls around her. Childish games were abandoned in favour of blossoming silhouettes against hazy suburban sunshine. Her school friends would pose and pout, thin sundresses barely covered lengthening limbs, and Bree would hide her blushes behind strands of long red hair.
She was 15 when the careful drawings she had made of her best friend were found. Eleanor Mason took one look at the curved, elegant pencil strokes and branded them ‘entirely inappropriate.’ The pieces of paper were crumpled up in her stepmother’s perfectly manicured nails and inside Bree curled up with shame.
It was a few months later when her Father kissed her, called her ‘poppet,’ then waved her off to bible camp - reassuring her that this was all ‘just a phase.’
***
Years later Andrew Van de Kamp told his mother he thought he was gay.
Bree, now fully fitting the mould her stepmother’s rules had set aged 8, dutifully recalled a reformed girl of 16 and prayed for her son. She begged Andrew, bargained with God and battled herself. Bree prayed and had faith that this too was all ‘just a phase’
She hadn’t planned for anyone beyond Rex and the minister to know about Andrew’s temporary problem. When Lynette offered her coffee and a sympathetic ear she hadn’t intended anything more than mutual despair over their ‘tearaway’ children. However Lynette stared questioningly at her with those astute blue eyes and Bree knew the fear on her face must be obvious. Words came pouring out and before she knew it Bree had confessed Andrew’s sins to Lynette. Her own remained unspoken.
When Lynette just shrugged “so what?” Bree could almost have let go of her manners and screamed in the face of such easy understanding. Instead she shook with suppressed frustration, her hands clenched so tightly around her coffee cup that Lynette had to peel them away, finger by finger.
They sat opposite each other, hand in hand. Bree stared absently at the sunlight speckled air playing across Lynette’s face and recalled a different best friend (they had the same messy blond hair) telling her that this was ‘all okay.’ Strong, tanned hands enclosed pale, shaking fingers and Bree found her own acceptance. Her best friend smiled a crooked smile of understanding and Bree remembered the girl before the sermons and the shame.
***
Bree Van de Kamp was 42 when she realised it wasn’t all just a phase.
Title: Phases
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Pairing: Bree/Lynette
Rating: PG
Word Count: 469
A/N: Set in season 1 (however inspired by a comment in the last DH ep about Andrew's homosexuality being 'just a phases') Beware large doses of religious melodrama contained within...
Bree Mason was 8 years old when her new stepmother taught her about sex. As a young girl Bree didn’t fully understand words such as ‘copulation.’ However the frown on her stepmother’s face made it perfectly clear ’fornication,’ brought with it another set of strict standards to live up to.
At age 13 Bree began to notice the changes to her body reflected in the girls around her. Childish games were abandoned in favour of blossoming silhouettes against hazy suburban sunshine. Her school friends would pose and pout, thin sundresses barely covered lengthening limbs, and Bree would hide her blushes behind strands of long red hair.
She was 15 when the careful drawings she had made of her best friend were found. Eleanor Mason took one look at the curved, elegant pencil strokes and branded them ‘entirely inappropriate.’ The pieces of paper were crumpled up in her stepmother’s perfectly manicured nails and inside Bree curled up with shame.
It was a few months later when her Father kissed her, called her ‘poppet,’ then waved her off to bible camp - reassuring her that this was all ‘just a phase.’
***
Years later Andrew Van de Kamp told his mother he thought he was gay.
Bree, now fully fitting the mould her stepmother’s rules had set aged 8, dutifully recalled a reformed girl of 16 and prayed for her son. She begged Andrew, bargained with God and battled herself. Bree prayed and had faith that this too was all ‘just a phase’
She hadn’t planned for anyone beyond Rex and the minister to know about Andrew’s temporary problem. When Lynette offered her coffee and a sympathetic ear she hadn’t intended anything more than mutual despair over their ‘tearaway’ children. However Lynette stared questioningly at her with those astute blue eyes and Bree knew the fear on her face must be obvious. Words came pouring out and before she knew it Bree had confessed Andrew’s sins to Lynette. Her own remained unspoken.
When Lynette just shrugged “so what?” Bree could almost have let go of her manners and screamed in the face of such easy understanding. Instead she shook with suppressed frustration, her hands clenched so tightly around her coffee cup that Lynette had to peel them away, finger by finger.
They sat opposite each other, hand in hand. Bree stared absently at the sunlight speckled air playing across Lynette’s face and recalled a different best friend (they had the same messy blond hair) telling her that this was ‘all okay.’ Strong, tanned hands enclosed pale, shaking fingers and Bree found her own acceptance. Her best friend smiled a crooked smile of understanding and Bree remembered the girl before the sermons and the shame.
***
Bree Van de Kamp was 42 when she realised it wasn’t all just a phase.