It's Just a Number, No Big!

Gradually, Pru began to wake up.

She didn't want to, though; she hadn't slept so well in days and though the bags from under her eyes probably weren't gone yet, Pru knew she had to get up. Melinda was probably still locked away in her bedroom and she needed to check up on her, maybe get her to eat something. Yeah—it sounded like a good idea to feed the invalid. Nevertheless, Pru was very comfortable in her current position and was determined not to be fully awake yet.

She was warm and happy, confined in whatever small space she had holed up in. Possibly her dad's favorite recliner, or maybe in the old Halliwell rocking chair. Pru assumed it was one of these two and not anywhere else because of the gentle motion her body took part in whenever she breathed. With a breath in, she was tilted backwards ever so gently. Likewise, when she breathed out her body went forward more than normal, leading her to believe in the rocking chair theory, rather than just a couch or her own bed.

The rocking motion was lulling her into a simple peace, Pru soon realized, but she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep just yet. She really wasn't tired enough for that anymore, and she really did have things to do.

She lithely stretched her long limbs from beneath herself, wiggling cautiously to be sure of her balance in the chair. Fortunately, she seemed safe enough because the rocking motion suddenly ceased, stilling at what was obviously her movement—which didn't make sense at all, since rocking chairs rocked through movement.

In her confusion, her blue eyes fluttered open cautiously and curiously, only to find herself at the Halliwell mansion, in the living room. Pru was facing the TV, which placed her on the couch—not a rocking chair or enclosed space at all. Hmm, she thought. Then why did she feel so confined, so pressured? The couch wasn't huge but it certainly wasn't this small.

As though it was purposely trying to distract her, the gentle rocking picked back up, as sleep-inducing as before. Her eyes fell to a close of their own will, and she shifted ever so slightly to find a more comfortable position. It wasn't very easy to find; while the cushion was quite warm, it wasn't very plushy. She didn't remember the couch ever being this hard. The movement quit again, the cushion beneath her feeling rock hard. Pru felt tense, though her limbs were loose and relaxed—but it wasn't her that was tense, she realized.

It was the thing she was sitting on.

Right about then she heard someone take a deep breath, someone very, very close by. Then, she jumped very, very high in shock.

Jerking upright, Pru started to lose balance. A pair of strong arms came around her torso as though to stop her from falling, encircling her close to the body they belonged to. Immediately Pru fell into the natural Halliwell way—defense mode. Whoever this person was was holding her against her will, and she was going to fight back.

Her mother had trained her for this very moment when she was quite young, and despite her father's concerns, she excelled in the mastery of martial arts. Suddenly her body was working on it's own, detached from her mind altogether as it attacked her trapper.

In one swift motion, her eyes opened and her elbow jerked back to close her attacker's throat while she wiggled and writhed, using her other hand to fight the arms around her. The person beneath her coughed and choked erratically, forcing a triumphant grin upon her lips—until they spoke.

"Pru! Fuck, Pru, you just elbowed my throat!" Pogue choked out hoarsely, quickly releasing her from his hold.

At least she wasn't being attacked by a demon, Pru thought—a real one anyway, she added, remembering the ordeal when they'd first arrived. She stopped attacking him, but what happened next was really just sad. When he let her go to assuage his throat, she started to lose balance again and sought traction in anything she could—mainly what was closest by. Which just so happened to be him. And as she began to slip off his lap her hands grabbed onto anything they could, namely his pants.

It wouldn't have been so bad, really, if she hadn't grabbed him so hard.

Pogue's body jerked and Pru blushed, hurrying to scurry off of his lap as she realized exactly what she had just done. He groaned and fell forward, his body folding in half as though it was an automatic instinct to protect itself from Pru. She winced when he hit the floor with a dull thud, still grimacing in pain.

"Sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" she cried, frantically fluttering about him without actually touching him in anyway. She was of no use, and it really sucked; however, that didn't stop her from trying to be of use.

Booming laughter sounded from across the room, where Reid and Tyler stood watching the scene lay itself out. Pru blushed even more when she realized they'd seen the whole thing and hadn't yet said a word. Pogue chuckled darkly, being a good victim, and attempted to stay as still as possible.

"Um—d'you, um, want some ice? Or something?" Pru asked, not being really knowledgeable about what to do when I guy got hurt there—in that, y'know, area—other than from what she had seen in movies. And usually the girls doing the injuring in that area weren't nearly as sympathetic unto their victims as she was feeling.

Reid snorted at her suggestion and she blushed even more. What a good day today was turning out to be, she thought sarcastically; perhaps she should have just told the guys to go home when they had arrived.

"No?" she asked hesitantly, still fluttering slightly. "Okay, well ... We could go see if Melinda's healing power came in yet."

He gave her a dark look, faintly recalling the stories he'd heard from the other whitelighters about their first heals; most had lost body parts. This was obviously not a part he wanted to lose. "Right. Bad idea. Sorry—again. I could call Wyatt for you ... ?" He didn't answer her that time at all, leaving her feeling more humiliated than before. "I'm gonna take that as a no, then."

Tyler gave her a look of pity, but otherwise seemed to be enjoying the moment. Finally, he was not the center of the joke. This was a first, and he intended to enjoy it thoroughly, whether or not he felt bad for the girl involved.

Pru looked around helplessly, and upon finding nothing she could do to fix the situation, she simply gave up. "I—I'm just gonna go and check on Mel ..." She started up the stairs and to her cousin's bedroom, not noticing the look of absolute worry that was suddenly etched onto Baby Boy's face.

"Uh-oh."

"What?" Pogue snapped, still slightly distracted with the throbbing pain coming from between his legs, but focused enough to realize that something was so obviously going on.

"Well—It's just that Caleb disappeared up the stairs a while ago, and then never came back. And Melinda ..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"—Is upstairs," finished his blond counterpart.

Pogue stared at them in shock, wondering curiously how they could let poor Pru walk in on whatever was going on up there. He knew someone should have stopped her. Whatever that was going on in that bedroom had the potential of being very scarring, or at least the potential to make her very, very angry. "Shit, why didn't you freaking stop her, dumb shit?"

Reid shrugged and Ty blushed, as per usual. Pogue just slapped Reid upside the head and carefully collapsed on to the couch, still a bit tender in his movements.

.

"Min-Min?" Pru asked quietly, knocking on her cousin's door. She didn't want to be too loud and wake Melinda up if she was sleeping, but if the smaller girl was awake then she wanted to be let in! She needed to be fed, after all.

When the younger of the two cousins received no reply, she decided going in was her best chance at finding out if the brunette was awake or not. Besides, she'd been into Mel's room plenty of times. It wasn't like she was breaking her privacy or anything. She was just checking up on her; making sure she was okay—that sort of thing, really.

When the door opened with a faint click of the lock and she still heard nothing, Pru assumed Melinda was sleeping. When it widened enough to allow her viewing access to the bedroom, she saw this assumption was correct as their was a lump on the bed. However, she didn't expect that Melinda and Caleb would be sleeping. Together. Cuddled up. On, in, or whatever preposition to the bed they were. And yet, there they were—cuddling.

Caleb appeared to have been sitting upright at some time, since his body was laying to the side at an awkward angle on the bed. Instead of sleeping on the bed the normal way—the way most people slept in beds, length-wise, he had fallen on his side width wise, his feet and a large portion of his legs hanging off the large bed. His arms were wrapped around Melinda, one held her close to him while the other appeared to be entangled in her hair. She had curled face-first into his chest, looking like a tiny child in comparison to his man's body.

They were truly quite adorable, even if it was a little disturbing to see her cousin cuddling with a man she'd hardly spoken to.

And what a man he was! Pru had shyly asked one of the guys how old they were a few nights before and once she found out she did not want to talk to them anymore, feeling slightly creeped out. Pogue had quickly fixed that, though. Hopefully no one else would find out about their little age fiasco. No need to call rape or pedophile—not yet, anyway.

She backed out of the room as quietly as she could, only to plop onto the couch with her cell phone, leaving Pogue to watch her speedy thumbs in amazement. He really was old if he was shocked to watch her text.

.

Melinda woke up long before Caleb did.

She didn't mind waiting for him, though. He didn't snore, and was perfectly comfortable to sleep on, surprisingly enough. She doubted there were any plans to move from this particular spot for a long while, or at the very least for the next few hours, and didn't mind the lack of plans at all, since it gave her a chance to observe him better.

Her head lifted and fell softly as his chest heaved with slow breaths.

It was comforting to know he was there with her, though she wasn't sure why. Obviously, she had become very attached to him, or at the very least she'd become attached to his constant presence. There was simply something about Caleb that made her feel safe and protected.

It wasn't as though she had never felt that way with her own family, but ... Her thoughts trailed off as she realized that in truth, she hadn't. Melinda loved everyone of her relatives dearly and enjoyed their visits, but a gathering of the Halliwells and the Matthews meant a probable demon attack. It had never been an issue for anyone in the family, since they all had powers of some kind to fight with. However, it had been a problem for the people that weren't in the family—people like potential dates brought home, lovers, future partners; these people were rarely brought home because the lack of safety.

But now, Melinda knew someone she wasn't related to that could come over and fend off demons. She knew from experience that Caleb and his friends could hold their own in a battle quite well, plus the fact that he was so big compared to herself helped a bit. She tilted her head up to look at him.

Caleb's face held strong, manly features and dark eyes that frightened the weaker part of herself away every time she looked into them. Although his face was often knotted with worry, when he smiled he brightened up not only himself, but Melinda as well. Somehow, this man had wormed his way into her heart in the few short days she had known him. He made her cry—as she so often did in those two long days, locked away in her bedroom, when he wasn't there—he made her laugh, he made her smile, and he made her worry; and they'd barely spoken to each other.

Suddenly, a terrible thought occurred to her. If this addiction to his presence continued, how could either of them live properly? When he was gone, what would she do? It wasn't as though she could just stick to his side all the time. Would she freak out again if Caleb left her, even for a few hours? She didn't know, and it worried her. What worried her most, though, was how quickly she had found herself in need of him. It wasn't like she was falling in love. No, most definitely not. Love isn't that quick to give, nor receive, Melinda knew. It took time and effort and lots of work, as Uncle Coop had told her time after time. It was likely that Melinda was just confused about this whole thing.

Perhaps she was only confused as to why she felt a pang of guilt when she thought of the days Caleb was away. Had he gotten sick, too? She couldn't tell. This worried her. Many things about Caleb worried her, in fact.

"G'morning," he mumbled, his voice low and deep, rumbling with power and strength.

Somehow in her time of staring at him, Melinda had missed his eyes fluttering open to stare back at her. His eyes were warm today, gold-tinted with what appeared to be happiness or pleasure. She blushed when she found herself staring at him again and he smiled.

"Hi ...," she whispered softly, biting her lower lip to hide a smile when she realized it was not quite morning. In fact, it was not quite evening, either. With a glance at the clock, Melinda found it was five o'clock, almost time for the family to come over for their regular seven o'clock dinners. She'd spent all day in bed with him, snoozing peacefully, and it turned out to be the best sleep she'd ever had, not evening waking up or experiencing a nightmare.

"How long was I out for?" Worry wormed its way onto his face as Caleb frowned slightly, eyes searching her own face. Had she woken up long before him and just laid there? She must've been bored ...

"Well," Melinda sighed happily, "I'm guessing that I fell asleep at about nine this morning, and since it's now five ... That's the first eight hours of uninterrupted sleep I've had in a long time. I don't know about you, though—I haven't been awake long."

Caleb smiled. It was the same for him. He hadn't been able to sleep very well since Sarah left him, worrying that she would tell their secret. Caleb would never know that the other guys took care of her memories and Kate's too.

When he quirked and eyebrow at her for her to expand upon her last sentence, she continued. "Just a few minutes—thinking."

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"You," she blurted, unthinkingly. Melinda blushed and stuttered over her words to when she realized what she said but Caleb just grinned.

She thought about him? It was good to know, since she was on his mind more than anything else, ever.

"I was just wondering ..."

When her words cut off he looked for an explanation, but her face was turned away from him. She was such a introverted, secretive girl, he thought with an internal smile. "About?" Caleb prompted, curious as to her thoughts. Hell, he couldn't be more curious about anything. If the idea didn't sound sickening to him, he would've Used on her to read her mind, all the time. To know what she was thinking about, always; to know her troubles, her wants, her needs .. The idea was pure heaven to him.

Caleb wanted to know everything about this girl.

"Um, well, see ..." Melinda stuttered over her words, trying to come up with something she could actually tell him. She wasn't about to tell him that she was falling in love with him, now was she? Suddenly she blurted out, "How old are you?"

It'd been nagging at her for a while, in fact, to know how old he was. Caleb couldn't be too much older than herself, since he didn't look it at all. It was obvious to see that he was probably done with college already. Maybe twenty-three, or twenty-four? No older than that, surely. She began to fret slightly when he didn't answer after a few beats of silence.

Uh-oh ... How old was he, she thought, worried. Caleb froze up, remembering how the guys had told him of Pru's reaction to their age. Both of them were only seventeen, after all. "I'm—Okay, there's no need to freak out, or anything, but, I'm twenty-eight, actually. It's just a number, though. It's not like it means anything; really."

He watched her reaction steadily, since her face had turned back to him when she asked her question. Melinda's lips were pursed together, her cheeks were burning, and her eyes were squinting at the headboard on his other side. That face couldn't be too bad, right? It's not like he was old. Just kind of old—ten years older old.

Unbeknownst to him, his words brought an image to her head: her, a baby, less than days old, and him, a ten-year-old. Her stomach clenched.

Right now, Melinda wished that more than anything, she could freeze him so that she could run down the stairs, freeze his friends if they were there, and shake Pru senseless. Undoubtedly, the other girl knew. She always knew things like this, and had probably purposefully kept it from Melinda. It all made sense now. That's why her cousin had stopped bringing up the question to her when they talked. Because she knew and didn't want Melinda to know too.

"Oh. Well ... That's, um, that's ..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say. What did one say to that? Really? Well, that's fabulous! I have a chance at living ten years longer than you! Not.

So quick that Caleb even barely noticed, she inched away from him until they were no longer touching and orbed out then into the living room, where Pru was probably flirting with Pogue.

She was gonna have some hell to pay, Melinda thought spitefully.