apocalypsos | Fic: Muffins and Misdemeanors

Title: Muffins and Misdemeanors
Author:

trollprincess
Rating: G
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, wheeeeeeee!
Author's note: Written for

phoenixchilde's Everyday Superheroes Fanfic Challenge. I wouldn't call it a crossover so much as a carefully constructed train wreck with cameos. Thanks to

florahart for the beta. :)

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Muffins and Misdemeanors

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Not long ago, Bree Van De Kamp hadn't really had time to bother with the ridiculous behavior of a bunch of superpowered lunatics flying around the city saving people in unflattering spandex costumes. Her husband didn't seem to appreciate her at all, one of her best friends and neighbors had shot herself in an appalling act of suicide, and her son was behaving more and more like an unrestrained heathen. Somehow, the heroics of mental patients who felt the need to display their muscle definition through fashion really didn't matter so much to Bree.

Then Bree discovered Rex wanted a divorce. So Bree did what any woman would have done in her situation and ripped the front door off of her car in a fit of temper.

Hmm. That was going to be difficult to explain.

After a week of trying to figure out the "Why," the "How," and the "What" of the whole matter, Bree realized that how she was suddenly able to fly and what it meant that she could bench-press an SUV didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. What did matter was that she could, and after some careful figuring and a few frustrating hours with a sewing machine, Bree came up with an idea that was philanthropic, classic, and cathartic all at once.

"I have a new job," she announced brightly over dinner that night.

Her children shared a look across the table before Andrew shrugged and they both went back to their Havarti chicken, but at least Rex had the courtesy to perk up at that. "Oh, you do? Doing what?"

Bree took a delicate bite of her asparagus and chewed thoroughly before saying, "Charity work. It's a volunteer pro--"

"Volunteer?" Rex's expression seemed to visibly dim, as if the anticipation that she might suddenly decide to go it on her own with her very own source of income came with a built-in lightbulb attached to a dimmer switch. "More charity work. How wonderful for you and your spare time."

Bree's smile tightened as she briefly wondered what he would do if she took a deep breath and froze his dinner from across the table.

The first time Bree flew off to save someone -- or, to be truthful, a disabled plane full of someones -- Bree thought she was doing a decent job. That was, until she realized she might have to be there longer than she'd planned. If she'd known being a superhero would be time-consuming, she definitely wouldn't have put those muffins in the oven before she'd left.

So she made a quick call to Susan to run over and take out her muffins. Thank God for utility belts with built-in cellular phone pockets. So useful and, when worn at the right level on the waist, so nicely slimming.

"Have you seen this?"

Gabrielle held up the newspaper, its front page taken up mostly by a blurry photo of the newest superhero being spotted in the city. No one had given her a silly nickname yet, which Bree supposed she was grateful for. But she still had to deal with the fact that while no one would know it was her under all of that spandex, there was still a rather large photo of her on the front page of a major metropolitan newspaper in spandex. She had nightmares that ended just like this.

Sighing, Bree adjusted the freshly cut flowers in the vase on her dining room table. "Unfortunately," she muttered. "What is it with the sudden influx of these warped vigilantes, anyway? Considering how many of them are restricting themselves to leather and rubber, I'm amazed they haven't double-checked the customers at every fetish shop in the country."

"Really, Bree, don't you think you're overreacting just a little? As long as they're saving lives, where's the harm?" Susan smiled and took a closer look at the picture. "You know, if you squint, she kind of looks like --"

"Tea?"

All three of the other women in the room glanced over at Bree's outburst and shook their heads, then turned their attention back to the newspaper. "I have a cousin who works at a newspaper in Metropolis," Susan said. "She meets people like this all the time. Says they're kind of flighty, no pun intended."

Bree rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to drop Susan's car in the nearest lake.

The problem with being a superhero (aside from the dent in one's personal time and the frustration when criminals got away) was that there was no way Bree could do anything for the serious problems on Wisteria Lane other than help in a strictly non-superpowered sort of way. Her alter ego had gotten far too famous to get away with coming to Wisteria Lane to search for a missing woman or -- God forbid -- discover the identity of a hit-and-run driver.

As for using her powers without anyone noticing ... well, she couldn't really get away with that, either. So far, her list of superhuman abilities included incredible feats of strength, superspeed, flight, and freezing things with her breath, none of which would come in handy during a ground-based search she had to perform with other people.

"I should call my cousin," Susan said as they started searching the woods for any sign of Mrs. Huber. "She could --"

Bree frowned. "Susan, I'm sure your cousin has more important things to do with her time than call up whichever superhero is available and have them come down here to search for Mrs. Huber." She had to clench her teeth to keep from adding, You know, like fawn all over them and beg for their attention, but she didn't suppose Susan would want to hear that about her own cousin.

"I'm just saying --"

"No."

"But --"

"Susan, NO."

Susan sighed. "Oh, you're no fun."

Oh, yes. Definitely the nearest lake.

In a rather amusing turn of events, Bree's part-time job brought her in contact with more than a few colleagues who would, in fact, be absolutely perfect if she were in the mood to make Rex feel insanely jealous and completely emasculated all at the same time. She'd kept them to herself purely as a trump card, which came in handy when she'd discovered Rex was having an affair with her neighbor Maisy.

George was a nice guy, but he was also a bit of misdirection. A week after her second and last date with George, Bree decided to pull out the ... well, medium-sized guns.

"Rex, this is my date, Clark Kent."

Bree watched with grim satisfaction as Rex stared up at the handsome, overly-muscled reporter and gaped.

A month later, after the awe over Clark started to wane on Rex's behalf and Clark's partner at his job showed a bit more jealousy than either one of them liked for what was strictly an entertaining trick, Bree went a step further.

"Rex, this is my date, Bruce Wayne."

Rex might have swallowed his own tongue, but by the time Bree thought to care, Bruce was flying her to Gotham for dinner.

As Bruce flew her back home the next day, Bree briefly wondered if she had the right amount of blackmail in her accordion file in the attic to use the phrase, "Rex, this is my date, Lex Luthor," in the future. Oh, it wouldn't be a serious date, of course, but it would definitely be worth it to see the look on Rex's face.

Especially if Lex brought the giant death ray she'd confiscated off him last week.

Now, to remember where she'd left it ...