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31 December 2006 @ 04:13 am
Title: A Surprise
Timeline: Alternate scene--when George invites Bree and Rex to the bonsai exhibit
Disclaimer: So very not-mine that it's laughable

I wanted Bree and Rex to have, as I explained to juno_chan, a "happy," cute moment the way that the other couples did. So I manipulated them a little bit, but I think they're still pretty recognizable. It's a little bit hard, because they don't do "happy" all that often.

You know that I'm not a prude...but I am a little modest about the content of stories, and this, to me, seems to cross a line that I haven't before. We're all children of the Clinton administration, and I promise that it doesn't get worse than the Ken Starr report, but if you're very shy or easily offended, please don't read. It's cool. Anyway, this is not NC-17, because that would be silly of me since I'm still only seventeen, but I kind of think that it's pushing the R a little bit, so please use discretion. Okay. That's it. If you're going to continue, enjoy.

“Well, why don't we just go by ourselves, then?” Bree offered cheerfully, smiling at George.

“Uh, actually, Bree, we, we have that thing Friday night.” Yeah, “that thing,” nice job, Rex. But his wife was not going out with George Williams.

“What thing? We don't have a thing,” claimed the unfaithful wife.

“I think what your husband is trying to say is that he doesn't want you going out with me,” offered George pointedly. Bree turned to glance at her husband.

“Rex, are you still jealous?”

“No—it’s just—well, it was going to be a surprise,” Rex stumbled awkwardly. “But, honey, you’re busy on Friday night.” Bree looked at him for a long moment, studying his expression intently, then turned to George.

“I’m sorry. I suppose I won’t be able to go with you.”

“Oh. Well, some other time, then.”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” agreed Bree warmly. Rex tightened his arm around her.

“We’ll see you later, George,” he said pleasantly, though not completely without the “I win” smirk that was not unnoticed by George or caught at all by Bree. “Take care.”

“You, too, Dr. Van de Kamp, Bree. Good luck with the heart.”

“Good-bye, George!” sang Bree.

As soon as they had reached home, Rex turned to his wife with a regretful smile.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I really have to go to the hospital to talk some things over with Lee. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Uh…sure,” said Bree, disappointed. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No!” said Rex quickly. At her slightly hurt expression, he amended, “It’s not about me; it’s another patient. I don’t want you to be bored.”

“Okay; well, then, good-bye.” Damn it, she still looked hurt. He laid his hand protectively on her cheek and smiled fondly at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I love you.” With a last, fleeting look at his wife, Rex left the house, closing the door carefully behind him.

“I love you, too,” Bree told the door rather forlornly.

When Friday came, Bree was a little let down. Though she knew that her loyalty lay, first and foremost, with her husband, she couldn’t help wanting to examine bonsais with George. And now, instead, she was stuck at home, half-heartedly awaiting Rex’s “surprise.” Well, maybe he was going to take her out to dinner. That would be nice. She was pretty sure, though, that his words had merely been an excuse to keep her away from George. Quite likely he’d forgotten them altogether.

Well, just in case he hadn’t, she’d better get changed. Nothing too elaborate; nothing that would let him suspect that she’d been hoping for his attention, if he came through the door expecting dinner to be on the table as always, but something prettier than her plain brown slacks and blue long-sleeved tee shirt. So she headed up the stairs to her bedroom, and suddenly her jaw dropped.

On the bed lay a green strapless dress, floor-length and decidedly too formal for even the most upscale restaurant they frequented. As she lifted it up to study it, Bree noticed that underneath were new underwear and stockings, and she looked down to see high-heeled green shoes to match.

“What do you think?” asked Rex nervously, and, startled, Bree dropped the dress back onto the bed, turning to find her husband dressed in a tuxedo, his emerald-green tie exactly matching the dress. “Do you like it?” His rather stunned wife remained silent, and Rex got a little antsier. “Shit. Was this a bad idea? I thought—” Suddenly, he was silent as Bree kissed him hungrily.

“It’s beautiful,” she said reassuringly, “and how did you ever…?” She held up the bra, clearly carefully engineered to be worn under a strapless dress with a low-cut back; not something that she’d ever imagined that her husband would have picked out on his own.

“Well, the salesgirl helped me a little,” admitted Rex. “Try it on; make sure it all fits.” She nodded and began to undress, right in front of him in the middle of the room, not bothering to mention that even if he’d gotten her sizes all wrong, it was completely worth it. But he hadn’t, and she proclaimed everything an absolutely perfect fit—well, the shoes were a bit small, but she could pretend for her husband.

He watched her with unblinking, awed eyes; his beloved wife, happy and smiling and looking more than beautiful in the dress he’d chosen for her.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked teasingly, her hands coming around his waist and a kiss lying, there for the taking, on her lips. He kissed her affectionately before speaking.

“It’s a surprise,” he reminded her, and she smiled. Any surprise that was worth wearing his tux for was a surprise she more than welcomed.

“Oh!” she said suddenly. “Should I wear my hair up or down?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her, giving her a funny look. She was crestfallen for a moment, then realized what he meant.

“No, darling, I meant would you like me to wear my hair up or down,” she said, slightly suggestively.

“Down,” he decided, twirling a strand of long red hair around his finger. “Actually, Bree…do you, uh, remember the time you came to my motel room?” She stiffened and he tightened his arms around her hips. “Could you wear your hair like that, please?”

“Sure,” she said, her voice a forced neutral. “Whatever you want.”

“I love you,” he reminded her as she pulled away from him to fix her hair. She smiled, returning—slowly—to good humor.

“You, too,” she promised. He watched her tease, comb, and style, remembering how incredible she’d looked that afternoon and how much he’d hurt her—and, now that he was thinking about it, how much he and his aroused body had missed her after she’d left.

“Finished,” Bree pronounced, coming over to him, and Rex pulled her into his arms. He held her close to him, so close that she could feel the slight indentation of his belly button through his vest and his shirt, and suddenly she became aware of something surprisingly hard and hot pressing against her thigh. She pulled away and looked at him with a wicked smile on her doll-like face. He looked sheepish, and his ears reddened.

“We’ll put that to use later,” she told him in a low murmur, lashes cast down on eyes full of lascivious promises.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear.

“Baby, you can hold me any way you want,” she declared, her voice throaty and aroused, as he kissed her neck. For a moment, they both contemplated foregoing the evening and, instead, testing the strength of their sheets, but finally Rex wrenched himself away from their embrace.

“Come on, Bree,” he said, his mouth feeling uncomfortably dry. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.” She nodded, took a deep breath, and opened the bedroom door.

“Where are the kids?” she asked abruptly, looking around as if expecting Andrew or Danielle to appear from nowhere at any moment.

“I lent Andrew my car,” Rex told her. “I told him to pick up Danielle from her friend’s party at one-thirty. They’ll be home by two. That’s okay, right?” he finished, suddenly nervous. It would be just typical of him to ruin the evening by granting their children too much freedom.

“Oh—yes—that’s fine,” said Bree, mentally calculating how much time that gave her and her husband to be alone. “Where is Andrew going?”

“A movie, I think,” he said vaguely, “with Justin and Lisa, and then they wanted to hang out at that diner they like. It’s okay if we take your car, right?”

“As long as you drive; I don’t think I’m up to it in this dress and these shoes,” Bree commented wryly. Rex smiled and then leaned forward and kissed her. She smiled, surprised and gratified, at him while he caressed her face.

“What was that for?”

“Just because. You’re my wife. I’m allowed.” The words, reminiscent of younger years, made her laugh. How many kisses, how many touches had he given her with that slightly disbelieving, “I’m allowed”?

Bree settled into the passenger’s seat of her Chrysler, realizing as she did so that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in the car without driving. Rex had taught Andrew to drive; Rex was teaching Danielle to drive. It wasn’t easy for Bree to yield control of the car—any car, really, but her car in particular. She was a bit nervous and fidgeted, finding the sound of the engine’s starting without her touch jarring, but as he drove she began to relax. This is Rex, she chided herself. He’s a safe driver.

“So how’s the garden coming, honey?” Rex asked idly to break the silence. Bree hesitated, knowing that her husband really didn’t care about flowers.

“It’s fine,” she told him.

“How’s my orchid doing?” He remembered?

“It’s lovely,” she said, her voice beginning to fill with happiness. “They are such beautiful flowers, aren’t they? Beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Rex agreed, with a glance at his wife. She talked on about her flowers, and he interjected every now and then with a question to reassure her that he was listening. Soon, he pulled into a parking lot and got out, walking around to open the door for her.

“Where are we going?” she asked again, smiling and looking so thoroughly happy that Rex knew that the whole last-minute-planned, George-avoiding evening had already been worth it.

“You’ll see,” he promised, reaching in his pocket and removing a royal blue scarf. He paused before speaking. “This was, uh, to make it a real surprise, I was going to…but if you don’t want to…” Bree studied his face: its earnestness; its concern; and most of all its care, and she nodded, turning around and closing her eyes.

“I trust you,” she told him, and he carefully blindfolded her and then took her hand and led her through a doorway. She could hear the clicking of her shoes on marble and shivered, imagining the world which surrounded her.

“Are you cold?” Rex asked when he felt her shiver, his voice laden with worry. It was a bare-necked dress and a cool evening, and he’d never forgotten the old adage, “Shoemakers’ children go barefoot, and doctors’ wives die young.”

“No, Rex, don’t worry. Can I look now?”

“If you want me to take off the blindfold, I will,” he said quickly. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I know you’ll take care of me.” She did, too, despite the flirtatious way she said so, know that he would always take care of her, to the best of his ability for the rest of his life, and that was why he would always, always come first in her heart. Yes, she loved him; yes, she’d made her life with him; yes, she’d married him and slept with him and borne his children, but Bree often thought that the most important thing about her relationship with Rex van de Kamp was that she could trust him to protect her from the world, and while she could live without that protection, the life was cold and lonely and made his love feel as safe and comforting as a warm bath after a long day in Aspen.

His arm came around her waist, holding her close to his body as he carefully guided her. She could hear him talking, but without the vision which allowed her to place voices, they were mostly meaningless. Finally, she felt him urging her to sit down, and so she did, on a comfortable velvet-covered chair. His hands came behind her head to undo the silk knot.

“Now, you can look,” he declared, and she opened her eyes to a theatre, hearing the strains of the overture to The Magic Flute filling the room.

He had brought her to the opera. Rex hated the opera. She turned to him, excitement dancing in her eyes, and saw the contented expression on his face.

“So is it a good surprise?” he asked, a trifle smugly. Bree’s smile widened and she kissed him.

“You’re amazing,” she murmured, laying her head on his shoulder for a moment before the curtain rose.

The performance was magnificent, the beautiful masterpiece of a fairytale that Mozart had intended it to be. Bree watched in delight like a child, and though his main pleasure lay in watching his wife’s entertainment, Rex couldn’t help realizing that, from time to time, he, too, was captivated.

“Wasn’t it thrilling?” Bree asked in a rather star-struck voice as he helped her to her feet at the opera’s close.

“I liked the one aria,” noted Rex, doing his best imitation of the stratospheric soprano vocalizing. Bree laughed and squeezed his arm.

“Thank you for taking me,” she said seriously. “I had a wonderful time.”

“Good,” he said fondly, and they walked in silence out of the opera house. As they walked, Rex noticed an upsetting fact.

“Bree, are you limping?” he asked, concerned. She glanced down.

“Maybe a little bit,” she admitted. “The shoes are about a half-size too small.”

“You should have told me,” Rex said, a little petulantly. “I thought you wore size eight and a half.”

“I did,” Bree explained, “before the children were born. My feet got bigger when I got pregnant.”

“But everything else fits?” he questioned, searching her face for confirmation.

“Yes, perfectly,” she assured him and then, gently, “and the shoes are fine. It’s just been a bit of a long night.” Rex still didn’t look happy. He lifted her into his arms, and she laughed in surprise before taking a more serious tone.

“Rex, put me down,” she said, and not in the way which had always meant, “Rex, carry me upstairs, and I’ll make it worth your while.” No, this time she continued, “You have a potentially dangerous heart condition.”

“Yes, I do,” he said lightly. “I’m in love with you.” So he carried her to the car and only put her down to open her door. Then, he walked around to his side, working hard to bring his breathing back under control so that Bree wouldn’t berate him too much. He got in the car, and when he turned to fasten his seatbelt, her hands came up to cup his face and she kissed him slowly but hotly.

“Drive quickly, Rex,” she instructed him when she pulled away, still clasping his face in her hands. “I want to get home.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, keeping himself slightly in check. She nodded her head.

“That’s why I want to get home,” she explained, in a voice he hadn’t heard in…too long.

“Okay…we’ll skip dinner,” he agreed, blinking once or twice before starting the car. Home it was.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d speeded so badly without any complaints from his wife. The only danger was getting pulled over and delaying the home-getting with a well-earned ticket. Thankfully, the Fairview police seemed to have other business to attend to, and Rex pulled into the garage safely.

“Rex, no!” scolded Bree as she struggled to come down from his arms. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Not if you stop wriggling,” he said teasingly, closing the door behind him and beginning to climb the staircase. “Come on, I’m trying to be dashing. Stop reminding me that I’m old.” Her face softened, and one of her hands came from around his neck to stroke his jaw.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re not old,” she said lovingly. “You’re perfect, and I just want to keep you that way.” She felt Rex’s warm hand pull away from her back for a moment to open the door, and then it was back on her body as he stepped into the room and pushed his back against the door to shut it. He carried her over to the bed, and Bree laughed as he laid her down with a soft thud as her body hit the bed. Her arms came up around his waist, pulling him down on top of her, and then she rolled him over onto his back.

“Rex, your breathing is bothering me,” she said, her voice stern but with a little, toying lilt to it that caught his attention. “I don’t want you to over-exert yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t get yourself into any strenuous physical activity.” She stood up.

“Bree…” he said nervously, watching her walk away from him. “Bree, I’m fine, I swear, just give me a minute…”

“No,” she told him, in that dangerous voice that probably was but might not be teasing. She came over to him and un-buckled his belt, sliding it through the loops until she held it in her hands. That was a good sign…right? “No, Rex, you’re still gasping a little.” She placed her hand on his heart. “And your pulse is racing.” She bent over him, un-tied his tie, and began un-buttoning his vest. Rex began to relax. His wife could be vindictive, but he knew that if she got this far, she wasn’t going to stop. He started to help her, sitting up a little and taking off his shirt, but she stopped him quickly.

“Rex, darling, lie back down,” she said calmly in her best kindergarten teacher’s voice. “I don’t want you to over-exert yourself. Don’t move,” and suddenly her tone was commanding. He lay back down and let her remove his vest, then his shirt and undershirt.

“Hands up,” Bree said briskly, and he shivered because he was sure he’d heard her say the exact same thing to their children when they had been little. So he put his hands above his head, and to his surprise she wrapped his belt around his wrists and bound them together.

“Uh…Bree?” Suddenly she was all concern and nerves.

“Too tight?” she asked. He shook his head.

“No…it’s just a surprise.” Because I was willing to be as vanilla as you wanted, and instead you’re tying me up.

“Oh! Well, if that’s all…” She reached for the button of his pants and began nonchalantly to remove them, stopping to take off his shoes and socks first. Rex wanted to prop himself up to watch her, but it was surprisingly difficult to move without full use of his arms, even though they weren’t tied to the bed.

Once she’d gotten him completely naked, she stood back, looking at her handiwork with a slight, sexy smile on her face.

“Spread your legs, please,” she told him politely, and though he looked at her quizzically, he complied. Bree smiled and reached for his discarded silk tie, tying his left foot to the post of the bed; then she found the blue scarf he’d put over her eyes and fastened his right foot and smiled again, a wicked but girlish grin that filled her whole face. Rex couldn’t help smiling as he watched her. This was playful Bree, the wife whom he could barely remember but whom he had sorely missed, the wife who purely enjoyed sex, the wife he never felt that he was upsetting or misleading when he touched her.

“All right, you’ve got me where you want me,” he said, almost cockily but not unkindly. After all, silk was stronger than it looked. “Now, what are you going to do with me?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, her eyes running up and down his body. She reached behind her and un-zipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. Then she carefully climbed up onto the bed and slid on top of him, kissing him languidly as if she had all the time in the world. He struggled, again, against the belt that held his wrists together. Legs bound, he could take, but the arms were frustrating when all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around his wife and pull her closer, closer, closer…pull her back, now that she’d started kissing her way down his body, meticulously covering him with her mouth everywhere but where he wanted it the most.

“Bree?” he groaned hopefully as she sucked on his belly button. She looked up at him and smiled beatifically.

“Um…my mouth’s a little dry,” she said. “I’m going to go get a glass of water. Are you thirsty, sweetheart?”

“No,” he gasped shortly. “Come back quickly.” She did, and Rex grinned a little, knowing that she was only pretending not to want him as much as he wanted her. He watched her drink, licking her lips lightly until her mouth looked wonderfully wet. Was she…? Not really…

Bree Mason had always thought of fellatio as being rather, well…distasteful. So crass and dirty and completely un-lady-like. Then she’d fallen in love with Rex van de Kamp and become overwhelmed with a heady, passionate, almost feral desire to give him as much pleasure as his body could stand, and suddenly it hadn’t seemed so bad. These were the thoughts that coursed through her mind, at least, when she kneeled between her husband’s legs, took him in her mouth, and sucked firmly. He let out a surprised but pleased moan, and she smiled as best she could and kept going.

Now, if it was even possible, Rex was even more frustrated. He wanted to touch her and to hold her…and she was moving so slowly and deliberately that it was driving him crazy.

“Mmm…Bree…please…come back up here,” he stammered, and she sat up and looked at him.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” she said innocently. “If not, well…” Smile, smile, smile…even in his decidedly aroused state, Rex couldn’t help being appeased by a vision of his wife, happy and smiling. It was probably worth the teasing, though that was a hard fact to accept when she was nearly naked, next to him, and he couldn’t touch her.

“Just the hands,” he groaned. “Just untie my hands and come back up here and let me make love to you.” She looked at him for a long, torturous moment.

“Okay, Rex,” she decided. She lay down atop his body and un-did the belt buckle that bound his wrists together, and she couldn’t deny, as she stripped off her underwear, leaving only her stockings, that there was something unbelievably arousing about watching how much he wanted her when he was so completely helpless. This, she decided, was the kind of domination game that she could happily play with her husband.

They lay, tired and a little breathless, on the bed some time later, Rex’s ankles un-tied and lying under the blankets. Bree had been horrified to realize that her slightly too-tight bindings had harmed her husband’s circulation a little, but he’d assured her over and over that it had been worth it, and so she had consoled herself by rubbing his feet until they’d warmed up and then covering them with the top sheet and their heavy comforter.

“Rex?” she asked lazily, resting her head on her husband’s chest.


“Did you plan tonight to keep me away from George?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Even though you hate opera,” she continued, and he was surprised to notice that her tone was not angry or upset.

“It’s not so bad,” he mumbled, “and, well, anything’s worth having you with me instead of with him.”

“I love you so much,” Bree said softly. “You know that, right? I could never love George the way that I love you.”

“I know,” said Rex idly. “You just…you always seem happier when you’re with him. I wanted you to be happy with me, and not just because you love me.” He tilted her chin up so that he could look her in the face. “I love you, too, and I want you to be happy more than anything.”

“Then I really have given you what you want,” she said sleepily. “Because I’m happier right now, right here, than I’ve been in a long time.” She rested her head back on his chest. “But I’m still worried,” she continued.

“Why’s that, Bree?”

“Your heartbeat hasn’t slowed down enough. Oh, Rex, you can’t be in danger,” and her voice was on the verge of tears. “What would I ever do if I lost you?”

“Shh, sweetheart, don’t cry,” he told her, stroking the long red hair that fanned out across his chest. “Tomorrow, we’ll go see Lee again, and I’ll bring the pills just to make sure they’re the right ones. His handwriting’s pretty damned illegible sometimes.”

“So’s yours, honey,” smiled Bree as she began to trace circles on his chest. “Isn’t it something they teach you in medical school?”

“Nah, you have to be born with the ability,” joked Rex. “Only the few make it. The rest flunk out and never know why.” His arm, strong and just heavily muscled enough to make her feel more than safe, came around her back, and Bree snuggled a little more against her husband, pulling the sheet up to cover them both.
zimbalist on December 31st, 2006 05:37 pm (UTC)
aww, i loved this so much.

and lmfao about the rating. you're too great.