Disclaimer: Desperate Housewives does not belong to me.

Story Summary: Seven different Valentine's days. Each one focuses on a different couple.

A/n: Hopefully I'll have these all posted by Valentine's day. Enjoy!

A Week of Valentines

A story by Ryeloza

Chapter One: Thursday

Thursday, February 14, 1991

The phone was ringing, Danielle had taken an apparently unbreakable grip of Bree's hair, the timer on the oven wouldn't stop beeping, and from where she'd just confined him to the playpen, Andrew was screaming. Every noise seemed to pierce directly to her brain, and the overwhelming stimulation made Bree want to sit down and cry until it ended. If perseverance hadn't become her hourly motto since Danielle was born, she might have. Instead, she turned off the timer, grabbed the phone, and shut the kitchen door to try to block out Andrew's tantrum.

"Hello?" She crooked the phone between her ear and shoulder and with her free hand, attempted to open Danielle's tiny fist.

"What are you wearing?"

Danielle shrieked with laughter, apparently convinced that they were playing a game. Bree was not amused—by either her daughter or the crank call. "Who is this?" she barked into the phone. "You know you're really not impressing anyone with this juvenile—"

"Bree! Bree, it's me."

"Rex?"

He laughed. "Yeah. What's going on? You sound a little frazzled."

"I'm not—Danielle, let go of Mommy's hair!"

"Look, I just wanted to call to tell you that I got a reservation for tonight. You and I at that little French place you love."

Bree frowned, so distracted that she wasn't even sure she'd heard her husband correctly. With a final tug, she managed to free her hair, and she set Danielle down on the floor before anything else could happen. "What did you say?"

"You and me. Valentine's dinner at Rene's."

"Rex, I've been cooking all afternoon…" Gasping, Bree rushed back to the oven and opened the door, gazing in at her burned dinner. Of all the days to forget to take her roast out of the oven, this would be the worst—for her and Rex, Valentine's Day was all about tradition, and her cooking this meal for him was a big part of it. This time, the tears did come, welling silently in her eyes as she pulled out her ruined dinner.

"I know," said Rex, drawing her back to the present. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing and tried to concentrate on his words. "I know you said you wanted to have a quiet meal at home, but, sweetie, we haven't been out since the baby was born. Don't you want to get out of the house for a night?"

Bree glanced down at Danielle; she'd rolled onto her stomach and had that determined look on her face like she wanted to start to crawl but wasn't quite there yet. Six months, day in and day out with her kids; it was no wonder that she was about to cry over a ruined dinner. "We don't have a babysitter."

"My mom will watch them."

"Really?"

"Well you have to call and ask her, but I'm sure she'll say yes."

She scowled, ready to reprimand him for being such a coward about talking to his own mother, when suddenly there was a spectacular crash in the other room. Terrified, Bree dropped the phone and hurried back to the living room. The vase of roses that Rex had sent her this morning lay shattered on the floor next to Andrew's playpen where he stood frozen with a scared expression on his face. Somehow, she realized dimly, he'd managed to tip the vase off of the end table; it was a miracle that it hadn't fallen on top of him.

"Andrew," she scolded; her heart was beating like a jackhammer. "That was a terrible thing to do!"

Remorseless, Andrew flopped down in the playpen and picked up his teddy bear. Bree took a step toward the mess on the floor, and then belatedly remembered her husband. With a groan, she went back to the kitchen and picked up the phone. "Rex?"

"Bree? What happened?"

"Andrew broke…It doesn't matter."

As usual, Rex took her dismissal with complete nonchalance; sometimes she wished he'd insist comforting her. "Okay. So you'll call my mom?"

Bree shook her head, reaching down and scooping Danielle off of the floor again. "Sure."

"Great. I can't wait for tonight."

"Sweetie," she said, trying to keep her tone even but barely succeeding. "I really have to go."

"Yeah, okay. Oh! Did you get my flowers?"

Bree just sighed.


Rex poked at his crème brûlée, more interested in making indentations with the prong of his fork than in actually eating the dessert. For the fourth time since they'd gotten to the restaurant, Bree had slipped away to call home and see how the kids were doing. Considering that his primary purpose of getting her out of the house was to make her to think about something other than the kids, this was particularly disheartening.

Personally, Rex didn't see what the big deal about Valentine's Day was. The first one he and Bree had ever spent together, they'd holed up in the library to study most of the night. As the evening wore on, the library grew more and more deserted until finally they were the only ones left; it was only then that his attention had gone from reading about anatomy to a hands on approach—specifically an examination of Bree's lips. If anyone asked, he would gladly admit that it was the only Valentine's day he'd ever really enjoyed. All subsequent celebrations had been rather run-of-the-mill: candy, flowers, quiet dinner at home. After awhile they blurred together. The fact that today was Valentine's Day meant very little to him.

Mostly, Rex wanted a night alone with her. A night where she didn't think or talk about the kids. A night where they gazed into each other's eyes until his heart sped up and he remembered exactly why he'd married her. A night where she relaxed and looked at him like she used to. The holiday was merely an excuse—a moment to regain the one thing he wanted most: the girl he'd fallen in love with ten years ago.

So far he was failing miserably.

"Okay," sighed Bree, sinking back into her seat and placing her napkin across her lap in one elegant sweep. She glanced disdainfully at the mess he'd made of their dessert, but before she could comment, he spoke.

"How are the kids?"

"Fine. They're sleeping."

"Huh. Same as twenty minutes ago. Thank goodness you called."

Bree pursed her lips—this only seemed to add to her beauty. Despite her preoccupation with their children, she had put quite a bit of effort into her appearance tonight. Her hair was swept up away from her face and she wore a modest little black dress that was just a little too tight in the chest (not that he was complaining). It was a nice change, seeing her so dolled up.

"You don't understand how difficult it is for me to leave the kids. I've been with them constantly for the past six months."

Oh right, thought Rex, drifting back to the present. Reluctantly he dragged his eyes back up to her face. The kids.

"I just wish you'd pay me half the attention you're paying them. I wanted to take you out to get your mind off of them for a night."

Bree smiled at this—her genuine smile, not that fake one she plastered on to be polite. Impulsively, he dropped his fork and reached out to take her hand. "I've missed you."

"You've missed me?"

"Yes. Everything has been about the kids lately. It's nice to get you to myself for a night."

"Well it's nice for me too," she agreed. From her tone of voice, though, he wasn't entirely convinced. "Staying home with the kids all day…sometimes it gets to be a bit…much."

"Oh please. I've never seen you happier in your entire life."

Bree's smile faltered slightly, growing strained in that way he disliked so much. He wanted to tell her that it was okay to tell him the truth—that he wouldn't judge her for it. Somehow, he didn't think it would matter much. "I just mean," he added, eager to ease the sudden, strained silence, "that you're a fantastic mother. I wouldn't want anyone else raising my kids."

A warmth crept into Bree's eyes, one he hadn't seen in much too long. The look made his heart speed up.

"All right," she said coyly. She dropped his hand and picked up her fork, carving out a delicate bite of the dessert. "You win. I won't mention the kids again tonight."

"Really?"

"Yes. But," she said, batting her eyes, "you also have to promise to go look at houses with me this weekend."

"Bree…"

"There's an open house in Newton—"

"Fine," he groaned, mostly because he didn't want to discuss this now—not when he almost had her back. They'd been arguing about moving to a bigger house for months; no matter how many times he said they couldn't afford it, Bree never seemed to hear him. Besides the kids, this was the one thing that seemed to be perpetually on her mind. "We'll go look. But that's it."

"Thank you."

He watched as she took her bite of the crème brûlée, a victorious little smirk toying on her lips. Without thinking, he stood and leaned across the table to peck her lips. She was gazing at him as he sat back down, scandalized by the public affection, but he just gave her a thoughtful smile. "You know you're sexy when you get your way."

"Just think of how great I'll look if you buy me a new house."

Rex laughed, his pleasure at hearing her joke bubbling up and out of him without hesitation. She flushed, obviously pleased. Picking up his glass of champagne, he tilted it in Bree's direction. "Happy Valentine's Day, darling."

Bree clinked her glass with his and took a sip. Then, to his delight, she leaned over to give him another impetuous kiss. In all the world, it was the best thing he could have asked for tonight. Unrepentant romance—just like they'd had in the library all those years ago. A reminder…

She was still the same woman he'd fallen in love with.