Thank You So Much post-ep fic!
Just a short fic I came up with this morning, mostly to satisfy my own craving for post-ep fic *g* Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine, etc. It obviously has a rather wide-open ending, and I may or may not continue it as time and inspiration permit. But for now, here you go!
Title: Cruel To Be Kind
Rating: PG-13ish
Spoilers: Thank You So Much
Disclaimer: not mine.
Summary: A conversation that takes place after the last scene of the episode.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The phone rang, and Lynette scrambled to answer it, hopping over small mountains of Legos and action figures as she did. "Scavo residence."
"Yeah, Mrs. Scavo? This is Danielle," came a bored-sounding teenage voice.
"Danielle? What's going on?"
"My mom's been like, puking her face off, and someone should probably make sure she doesn't die, I guess."
Lynette's eyes widened. "Do you need to call an ambulance?"
"No," she said disdainfully. "She's sleeping it off now, but maybe you should come watch her."
"Why can't you?"
"I have a birthday party. So, I've gotta go now." The line went dead, and Lynette stared at the phone for a moment. She knew Bree wouldn't want to see her after what had happened that afternoon- and to be honest, she wasn't looking forward to facing Bree, either- but she couldn't leave her alone in her reported state. Lynette sighed, digging through the mounds of toys for her shoes and yelling to Tom that she'd be across the street for a while.
As promised, Bree was lying in bed with a washcloth over her eyes.
"Hey," Lynette said tentatively.
"What are you doing here?"
"Your daughter called, somewhat concerned for your well-being."
"Goddamn her," Bree swore, peeking out from under the washcloth. "Lynette, I've really got it under control now, there's no reason for you to have to be here-"
"If you're feeling okay, then I want to talk to you." Lynette sat down at the foot of the bed.
"Lynette-"
"Will you just hear me out? Because I need to know, is this why you broke it off with me?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Let's not kid ourselves, okay? I've always known that you've got this little thing going on between you and the wine. It's not a big secret. I also know that after Rex died, your friendship with the bottle stepped up a notch. And the next thing that happens, you're telling me that we can't have this-" she gestured somewhere toward the bed, "because you need some time on your own. It killed me, Bree. It fucking killed me, but I let you have your space, and now I'm wondering what it was all for. Maybe it really wasn't because you needed to do some soul-searching after Rex died and then George. Maybe you just wanted to get rid of me so that you wallow in your misery and get wasted every night without having to deal with...I loved you. Still do. And you let that go."
"You can be very self-centered, Lynette, I hope you know that. You decide that I'm some sort of drunk and then you assume that it's all about you."
"I didn't *decide* that you had a drinking problem. You gave me some pretty convincing evidence. And as for assuming that it's all about me- y'know, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I told myself that you'd been through a lot, it's only natural that you wouldn't want to be in a relationship right now, but this is bigger than that. Isn't it?"
"I can't talk about this right now."
"Too bad. We're going to." Lynette moved over toward Bree, her fingertips resting lightly on the soft flannel of her blue bathrobe. "The day Rex died, do you remember what I told you? I said we were going to get through this together. And then you..." her voice wavered, and she angrily wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "You're fucking George, agreeing to MARRY him because you can't stand to be alone for five goddamn minutes, but I was here. I was always here. But I guess that wasn't good enough for you. Then he dies, and you tell me that we have to break up...do you know why I never said something about your little habit sooner? Because for the past few months, you haven't spoken to me except when you're drunk. So maybe I'm just as guilty as you are, because I let this go on...but what I can't deal with is that you chose this over me. In your mind, being alone and shitfaced is better than being with me and-"
"GET OUT!" Bree finally yelled, getting out of bed and storming into the bathroom. The door slammed behind her. "Lynette, I swear to God, get out of my house before I go and do something I'll regret!"
Lynette still sat on the bed, mildly stunned. "So you haven't done anything you regret already?"
The silence said it all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thank you so much for reading :)
Title: Cruel To Be Kind
Rating: PG-13ish
Spoilers: Thank You So Much
Disclaimer: not mine.
Summary: A conversation that takes place after the last scene of the episode.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The phone rang, and Lynette scrambled to answer it, hopping over small mountains of Legos and action figures as she did. "Scavo residence."
"Yeah, Mrs. Scavo? This is Danielle," came a bored-sounding teenage voice.
"Danielle? What's going on?"
"My mom's been like, puking her face off, and someone should probably make sure she doesn't die, I guess."
Lynette's eyes widened. "Do you need to call an ambulance?"
"No," she said disdainfully. "She's sleeping it off now, but maybe you should come watch her."
"Why can't you?"
"I have a birthday party. So, I've gotta go now." The line went dead, and Lynette stared at the phone for a moment. She knew Bree wouldn't want to see her after what had happened that afternoon- and to be honest, she wasn't looking forward to facing Bree, either- but she couldn't leave her alone in her reported state. Lynette sighed, digging through the mounds of toys for her shoes and yelling to Tom that she'd be across the street for a while.
As promised, Bree was lying in bed with a washcloth over her eyes.
"Hey," Lynette said tentatively.
"What are you doing here?"
"Your daughter called, somewhat concerned for your well-being."
"Goddamn her," Bree swore, peeking out from under the washcloth. "Lynette, I've really got it under control now, there's no reason for you to have to be here-"
"If you're feeling okay, then I want to talk to you." Lynette sat down at the foot of the bed.
"Lynette-"
"Will you just hear me out? Because I need to know, is this why you broke it off with me?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Let's not kid ourselves, okay? I've always known that you've got this little thing going on between you and the wine. It's not a big secret. I also know that after Rex died, your friendship with the bottle stepped up a notch. And the next thing that happens, you're telling me that we can't have this-" she gestured somewhere toward the bed, "because you need some time on your own. It killed me, Bree. It fucking killed me, but I let you have your space, and now I'm wondering what it was all for. Maybe it really wasn't because you needed to do some soul-searching after Rex died and then George. Maybe you just wanted to get rid of me so that you wallow in your misery and get wasted every night without having to deal with...I loved you. Still do. And you let that go."
"You can be very self-centered, Lynette, I hope you know that. You decide that I'm some sort of drunk and then you assume that it's all about you."
"I didn't *decide* that you had a drinking problem. You gave me some pretty convincing evidence. And as for assuming that it's all about me- y'know, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I told myself that you'd been through a lot, it's only natural that you wouldn't want to be in a relationship right now, but this is bigger than that. Isn't it?"
"I can't talk about this right now."
"Too bad. We're going to." Lynette moved over toward Bree, her fingertips resting lightly on the soft flannel of her blue bathrobe. "The day Rex died, do you remember what I told you? I said we were going to get through this together. And then you..." her voice wavered, and she angrily wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "You're fucking George, agreeing to MARRY him because you can't stand to be alone for five goddamn minutes, but I was here. I was always here. But I guess that wasn't good enough for you. Then he dies, and you tell me that we have to break up...do you know why I never said something about your little habit sooner? Because for the past few months, you haven't spoken to me except when you're drunk. So maybe I'm just as guilty as you are, because I let this go on...but what I can't deal with is that you chose this over me. In your mind, being alone and shitfaced is better than being with me and-"
"GET OUT!" Bree finally yelled, getting out of bed and storming into the bathroom. The door slammed behind her. "Lynette, I swear to God, get out of my house before I go and do something I'll regret!"
Lynette still sat on the bed, mildly stunned. "So you haven't done anything you regret already?"
The silence said it all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thank you so much for reading :)