A/N: A Bree/Lynette fic. Don't like it? Don't read it. Comments are rewarded withfood. Lots of good food. :)
Disclaimer: Damn Marc Cherry!

It was a rare night on Wisteria Lane. The moon was hidden by dark clouds. Rain knocked on the windows of the homes. Lightning competed with the streetlights. And thunder interrupted the silence usually covering the dark suburban street.

One resident in particular was having trouble sleeping. Bree Van de Kamp hated thunderstorms. They reminded her of her marriage to Rex. The rumbles of the thunder reminded her of the rumbles of her marriage. Rumbles that had proven to be deadly. The occasional lightning bolt acted as the occasional moment of happiness and light that the two had encountered. And each raindrop had the role of each tear Bree had shed because of Rex.

Bree turned over in her bed and her eyes caught sight of the clock on the bedside table. 2:31 a.m. Despite all that dreadful noise of the thunder, the Van de Kamp house was silent. Without Phyllis' snoring down the hall, the house now felt lonely. And Bree hated loneliness.

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Since Tom's housekeeping system had failed horribly, Lynette was forced to sleep on the couch every night. This night in particular was an uncomfortable one. The loud claps of thunder rattled the house on its foundation, and for a moment, Lynette wondered if she would need to ask Edie for the phone number to her contractor.

Turning over on the sofa, Lynette found the digital clock on the TV. 2:31 a.m. Unable to sleep, she pulled herself up off the couch and headed into the kitchen for a glass of water. As she was taking a sip, she glanced out the kitchen window and saw a dim light on in Bree's bedroom across the street. She knew Bree was afraid of thunderstorms and her empty house probably made it worse.

Somehow, Lynette found her soaked self on the front stoop of the Van de Kamp residence. Deciding that Bree wouldn't want to leave the safety of her own bed to open the door, Lynette let herself in.

The emptiness of the house echoed off the walls as Lynette dried off her pajamas as best as she could before quietly making her way up the stairs.

"Bree?" She called out softly.

A loud clap of thunder sounded above, shaking the entire house. Lynette heard a scream of fear from the bedroom to her left. "Bree?" She raced into the bedroom and found her friend sitting in bed, her bright red hair bed-tousled, holding her well-developed chest while catching her breath.

"Lynette? What...what on earth are you doing here?"

"I was getting some water and I saw your light on. I knew you hated thunderstorms so I decided to come over and check on you." Lynette sat down on the bed and placed a calm hand on Bree's shoulder. "Are you ok?"

Bree looked up and her green eyes connected with Lynette's ice-blue ones. For that moment, she imagined her fingers running through Lynette's sunny blonde hair as their lips were connected, communicating unfound feelings and desires for each other.

"Bree?"

Bree shook herself back. "What?"

"Are you okay? Do you want me to stay here with you so you're not alone?"

Bree closed her eyes and composed herself. "Yes. I would appreciate that very much. Thank you, Lynette."

The blonde crawled under the blanket and scuttled around until comfort called to her. Bree settled down next to her and was surprised to find that Lynette had slid her arm across her waist. Her eyes met with Lynette's sharply.

"I'm sorry. Should I not do that? I just thought you'd need comforting..."

"Lynette, it's fine. Be my guest."

Wrapped there in Lynette's warm embrace, Bree smiled to herself.

Bree Van de Kamp loved thunderstorms.