Coding: Bree/Lynette
Spoilers: There's Something About A War
Crumpled
It's a warm night. Lynette stands by Maxine's pool, gazing into its depths. She feels the urge to dive in, to sink to the bottom and leave her problems at the surface. Being submerged in the serenity of water, that's what she craves, not a party at Maxine Bennett's house.
She knows Bree is trying to help-out, had invited her because she always recognises when Lynette needs space from Tom. And tonight was such a night, she is livid with him. Livid with the way things keep getting away from her.
Bree has trailed through Maxine's house twice in search of Lynette but to no avail. She sees the open terrace door and heads towards it. She steps out onto the patio and finds Lynette standing alone at the edge of the pool, starring wistfully into it.
The redhead stumbles towards her friend. "Hey there cutie," she slurs, beaming a full-watt smile as she veers dangerously close to Lynette.
Lynette can smell the alcohol on Bree's breath. "Hey yourself," she replies and returns the smile. Bree has been uncharacteristically uninhibited tonight, it's been… interesting to watch.
"What are you doing out here?"
"Taking five," Lynette answers.
Bree sways slightly and Lynette touches her arm. "Are you okay?" she asks with concern, she'd noticed Bree knocking back the wine at a tremendous rate.
Bree nods. "Peachy," although, that's not entirely true. She feels dizzy and very, very buzzed. Her skin tingles all over.
Bree tilts her head forward and leans it against Lynette's shoulder. She closes her eyes and sighs contentedly. "You're so soft," she murmurs as she hugs Lynette tightly. "Just like Mr Bunny-Waggles when I was a girl."
"Well someone's had enough to drink!" Lynette mumbles and frees herself enough from Bree's grasp to put a supportive arm around Bree's waist. "Lets get you home."
Bree nods but keeps her eyes closed.
Deciding to spare Bree as much embarrassment as possible, Lynette guides the redhead to the side entrance of the Bennett's house. They make their way precariously along the narrow path, pressing closely together to avoid grazing against the wall.
"I enjoyed myself," Bree mumbles. "Which is surprising because the Bennett's are usually such a bore!"
Lynette laughs. "I thought you liked Maxine?"
Bree opens her eyes and lifts her head from Lynette's shoulder. "No one likes Maxine! She's one of those people you put up with."
They walk along in silence for a moment. Bree sighs and smiles groggily at her friend. "Thank you for coming with me, you made it a fun night."
Lynette helps Bree up the steps leading to the Van De Kamp's front door. "You're welcome; it got my mind of things at home, so thank you too."
Bree pulls out of Lynette's arms and scrambles in her purse for her keys. She puts them in the lock and gently pushes the door open.
They enter the darkened hall. Bree trips and Lynette makes a grab for her friend, she catches hold of Bree's arm and manages to balance her. Bree starts to laugh uncontrollably, still clinging tightly to Lynette's arm.
Lynette gazes at her friend and shakes her head in amusement. "You are going to have such a hangover tomorrow!"
Bree releases Lynette's arm and straightens-up, struggling to appear poised. "I will not! I haven't drunk that much."
"You called me 'cutie'," Lynette reminds her.
Bree grins and taps the tip of Lynette's nose with her finger. "Well, you are cute."
Lynette grins. "Okay, this is getting weird - your unBree-ness is disturbing me now!" Lynette pulls the keys from the lock and puts them safely on the sideboard. "I'd better go, leave you to sleep it off. Will you be okay from here or do you want me to help you into bed?"
"I can take care of myself," Bree insists and kicks her shoes off.
Lynette studies Bree cautiously as she makes it to the foot of the stairs and uses the banister to lower herself. She sits child-like; her knees pressed together and her ankles spread wide, with her hands resting in her lap.
Bree glances up at Lynette. "I'm unhappy."
Lynette closes the front door; Bree was finally ready to talk. She moves towards Bree and sits beside her. "I know."
They gaze at each other.
"I see me doing these things, these stupid things, and I can't stop myself."
Lynette nods in understanding. "You're hurting; people do stupid things when they're in pain."
"Is that was this is?" her blue eyes search Lynette's for answers. "Because it feels like death. A slow, lingering death."
Lynette reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Bree's ear. "Oh sweetie, you'll get through this, it may not seem like it right now – but you will."
She puts a comforting arm around Bree's shoulders and squeezes gently. Bree's eyes peer into Lynette's and the sheer despair she sees there unsettles Lynette.
"The only time I don't feel like giving-up is when I'm with you. When you're near - I can see the faint outline of happiness," confesses Bree.
Lynette breaks their gaze, she clears her throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Her arm drops from Bree and she braces her hands against the step to lift herself up, but Bree places a hand on Lynette's arm, stilling her.
"Don't go," Bree implores.
Lynette turns to her friend. "Bree, your judgement is off right now, I don't think you should do anything that - "
"My judgement has been off for years, I'm trusting my heart this time," and Bree leans forward, her lips gently capturing Lynette's.
Lynette tenses and Bree cups her face, drawing her deeper into the kiss, until she feels the force of it being returned.
Intuitively, Lynette leans into Bree, her hands slide up Bree's back and tangle in that immaculately-styled red hair that she has spent hours fantasizing about tussling.
Slowly, they draw apart. Their foreheads pressing together.
Bree strokes Lynette's cheek and traces the outline of her lips with her thumb, gazing at Lynette in wonder.
"I have to go," Lynette whispers.
Bree inhales sharply; why does everyone leave her?
Lynette pulls out of Bree's embrace and stands.
She looks ruefully at Bree. "I can't fix you, I wish I could."
Bree smiles sadly. "I know."
Lynette heads for the door.
"Goodnight," Bree calls after her gently.
"Night," Lynette replies softly and walks out, closing the door behind her.
Bree buries her head in her hands; her temples are throbbing. "Pain, pain - go away, come again another day," she murmurs and breaks into sobs.
Bree must have passed out at some point because her next conscious thought is of the brightness of the sunlight streaming in from the hall windows and the sound of Andrew's hi-fi blaring upstairs.
She'd spent the night on the stairs. Her evening gown is crumpled, her hair a mess, her body stiff and heavy and her head foggy with a hangover.
Bree groans; it's a new day.
Another long, arduous day.