Dislcaimer: I do not own Desperate Housewives. I have no Emmy...

Not a Nice Man

"How's it going, Mr. Van De Kramp?"

"Fine," he grunted in answer and glanced up at the pharmacist. The little white lab suit really did nothing for the man's already light complication, but then again Rex Van De Kramp really didn't care much for the pharmacist himself so he said nothing of the white. Little asshole deserved.

George, the little asshole pharmacist, probably knew what was going on in Rex's mind. He might have looked young and foolish in his pressed lab suit, but he wasn't stupid. He kept his mouth shut about it, though. For polite reasons, you understand.

"And Bree?" George took a silent pleasure in watching Rex's eyes go hot under his dark eyebrows. On the outside he offered a polite 'how may I serve you' smile.

Now, Rex had every reason to be jealous. Only Bree's unconditional love for her husband had kept a relationship between her and the pharmacist from blooming. And even then… Bree had been interested, until Rex had decided the thought of seeing his wife with another man would put him an early grave.

"She's fine. Valentine's Day is coming up soon," Rex let that hit the man in the eyes and seethed with pleasure. "We'll end up doing something together…something."

Everyone knew that whatever had ruffled the prim and proper feathers of the Van De Kramps were currently being cuddled and soothed over. Bree had broken it off with George, taken her lying, cheating husband back into her home and was currently trying to rearrange the broken pieces of the puzzle that had unwittingly become her life.

And word was slipping out—slowly, mind you—that Mr. Van De Kramp had—had being the operative word—had a sordid affair with someone on the little white, picket-fence street of Wisteria Lane. George wasn't surprised when he caught the women whispering about Rex in their 'guys we never want to date ever' way. He distinctly thought he had heard the word 'masochist' pass through their lips.

With little more than a slight flush, George looked unaffected by those words and his current thoughts. "Tell her I said have a nice sweetheart's day."

"Sure." Rex and George both knew he would do no such thing.

There was a great long pause between them, two men seizing each other up. One had the woman, the house, the life, the other could give the woman more than she ever wanted. He would make her happy were the other man crushed her heart in his hands. One was all smiles while the other was lies and cheating.

And they both knew it.

"Well… gotta get home to Bree." Rex smiled into George's face for good measure, letting his skin pull taunt over his smile. Yeah, she's mine. What are you going to do about it? She choose me, not you.

Rex didn't say that out loud. Of course he didn't need to. These were two men vying for the same territory. Words were unnecessary. Just looks and snarls. And Bree was the juicy flesh they wanted to sink their teeth into.

"Tell her I said hullo," George replied and, instead of throwing down the gauntlet, passed Rex his white-bag drugs. "And that I wish she'd stop in more often. We do so have such engaging conversations."

George knew he had Rex there. There was a part of Bree he would always know that the other man wouldn't. Because he was her friend, not just her lover. The transition from one to the other would be easy for him and her to make, but the friendship would always be there, underlying their foundation. Even if Bree remained with her cheating, no good lout of a husband—as George had taken to calling him… inside his head of course—their friendship would always be there.

Because George was a nice man, first and foremost.

"Yeah," Rex muttered and the white paper crumbled in his hand as he scooped up the prescription drugs. Yet again, that was another thing they both knew Rex would never be.

As the country-club bred man walked to the doors, George found himself calling in a calm, passive voice, as per his manner, "Oh, Mr. Van De Kramp?"

"What?" Rex snapped, twirling around.

"You're not a nice man, are you?" And George let that hit him in the face before going back into his lab. Humming, mind you.

"And you are?" was his retort. Rex did not get an answer.

Storming into his sporty, mid-life crisis car, looking as if the devil had just insulted his mother, Rex opened his white bag.

His breath hissed out in anger. There, on top of the painkiller drugs, was a little red heart with the sprawling inscription of Bree on its front. Little ruffles trimmed the edges and made it look much better than anything Rex had given his wife. Because George had made it not only out of love, but from friendship.

And he had backed Rex right into a trap. Bree was much too polite to ignore the Valentine's Day gift from a friend so George would know if Rex had been cruel enough to hide the little heart from his wife. And if he did, George would always know he had given Bree something her husband never had. A gift from the heart.

Rex hopped into his sporty car and tossed the bag to the seat, glaring at it and all the problems it caused him. Stupid, George. Stupid, stupid, little asshole. The tiny heart burned bright red against the white, reminding him of his dilemma.

George. Nice man, indeed.

Time: forty minutes

Beta: none

Couples: Rex/Bree, George/Bree

Genre: General/Romance

Status: one-shot (complete)

Author: Lizzy Rebel

Characters/Style: Rex, Georgegeneral, semi-romance

Author's Notes: Wrote it because I could, basicly. I love the series (though I'm mad due to the lack of new episodes) but I'm not sure who I want Bree to end up with. George or Rex. I don't like Rex so obviously, I'm pulling for George. Even if he is a wimp.