Prompted by: Anonymous
Prompt: "Imagine that the sisters took you in and you develop a crush on Chris and anytime he's around you're either totally silent or act really weird. Chris totally knows you like him and he teases you all the time. Cute and fluffy pls?"
Pairing: Chris/Reader
POV: Second
Originally published 03 September 2017
You're in the living room copying down spells from the Charmed Ones' Book of Shadows into your own personal B.o.S. for future reference when Chris walks in. You briefly glance up at him from your work before biting your lower lip and looking away, unable to stop your cheeks from flushing.
It's been a month since the Halliwell sisters—the Charmed Ones—took you in and you started to learn what you could about the Craft.
Their Whitelighter, Chris—you're not sure if he counts as your Whitelighter now, too—certainly is cute (okay, not so much cute as very good-looking and sexy in a dark kinda way when he styles his hair a certain fashion and forgets to shave for a few days). You've always liked him from the moment you were introduced to him, but those feelings have slowly developed into a crush that leaves you tongue-tied whenever he's around.
Chris notices that you're not looking at him; he smirks faintly, then his eyes drop to the B.o.S. on the table. "How's the studying going?" he asks, moving closer.
You snap your own Book of Shadows shut before he can see what's inside and force yourself to look at him. For a brief second, amusement glints in his green eyes. "Something wrong?" It almost sounds as if there's a teasing note in his voice, but his expression gives nothing away.
"No," you mutter. Then you clear your throat, repeat yourself more loudly. "No. Nothing's wrong. I just need to…"
You're standing up and brushing past him before you can come up with a good excuse. As you walk out of the room, you swear you can feel his eyes on you.
Once inside your room, you close the door behind you and lean back against it, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. Gods, he knows—he has to know by now—and he's never going to let you live this down. You just know it.
)O(
After dinner you're in the kitchen helping clean up when you see white orbs out of the corner of your eye. Seconds later your breath hitches in your throat when Chris comes up next to you, starts to help wash the dishes without saying a word. You glance over at him; one small part of your mind notices that he's in a black T-shirt and dark blue jeans and he should not be allowed to look this good.
"Thanks," you say, searching for anything to break the silence.
"No problem." Chris dries the last plate and sets it in the dish-rack. You pull the plug, watch as the soapy water spirals down the drain.
Chris steps back, leans against the kitchen table. "So," he says, "is there any particular reason why you avoid me every time I come near you?"
You freeze, tense up. "Um, no. Not really." It's a lie, a very obvious lie and there's no way he's going to fall for it—
"Uh-huh," Chris says dryly. Then his voice turns serious. "You can always talk to me, you know. I'm your Whitelighter."
"That's the problem," you mutter without thinking. Too late, you realize what you said and several heartbeats pass before you can bring yourself to look at Chris.
To your surprise, there's a faint smile tugging at his mouth. You've never really seen him smile before: he's usually so serious. "You like me, don't you?"
Your heart skips a couple beats before starting up again, pounding so loud you can hear the blood roaring in your ears. "W-what gives you that idea?"
"Oh, I don't know." Chris lazily shoves off the table, moves closer. "You're completely tongue-tied around me. Whenever we're in the same room, you make a very deliberate point of avoiding me—or you stop working on whatever it is you're doing. You also tense up whenever I'm near you."
He's in your personal space now, and you can't breathe. His smile, though slow to form, is very deliberate—he knows what he's doing to you. "Just like now. See?"
That smile should be outlawed, you think. Instead, you try to push past him. "You're imagining things." Then your brain realizes that pushing past him involves physical contact, and stopping puts a mere inch of space between yourself and your Whitelighter.
Sly amusement flickers in his pale-green eyes; then they turn serious. "Okay, then I'll leave you alone. But I do want you to know that I wouldn't force you to do anything you don't want to."
You duck your head, cheeks flaming, and try to gather yourself before meeting his eyes. "Um, thanks. I'll… I'll just… go, then."
Chris steps back, giving you space, and it takes all your willpower not to run out of there.
This is starting to get ridiculous. You're going to have to do something about it soon, because you don't know how much more of his teasing you can take.
)O(
The next morning, butterflies are flying like mad in your stomach as you head down into the kitchen for breakfast—and see Chris already there, leaning against the counter as he munches on a slice of toast. Piper, Phoebe, and Paige are nowhere to be seen.
You swallow past the sudden lump in your throat, feel it slide down into your stomach. "Where's Piper?" you ask.
"She already went to P3," Chris says. "Paige is at one of her temp jobs, and Phoebe headed off to the office. I said I'd stay here to help you with your Craft studies."
"Oh."
Chris doesn't say anything to that, just finishes off his toast and glances at the fridge. "Anything in particular you want?"
You blink, taken aback because it sounds like he just offered to make you breakfast. "I thought you said you were going to leave me alone." The instant the words are out of your mouth, you wish you could take them back.
Chris rolls his eyes. "It was a gesture. So, what do you want?" One of his shoulders lift in a half-shrug. "It's not like I have anything better to do at the moment anyway. Besides, the sooner you eat the sooner we can start on your studies."
There's not much you can say to that. "Um, two eggs over medium, thanks."
You watch as he sets out a pan and then the eggs, turns on the heat and sprays the pan with cooking spray before cracking the eggs open. A Whitelighter that can cook. Who knew? And honestly, the fact he even offered to make breakfast for you in the first place is making you fall for him that much harder. It's not fair.
While Chris is frying the eggs, you busy yourself with getting a glass of apple juice and setting it on the table. Then you turn back for a plate and fork, set the plate on the counter next to the stove. It's not long before your order is sitting in front of you and Chris is leaning against the doorway.
"Meet me in the attic when you're done," he says before orbing away.
You take a quick detour after you're done eating to brush your teeth and then you head up the stairs to the attic. Once there, you see Chris sitting cross-legged on the floor with a deck of Tarot cards in front of him. He gestures for you to sit across from him and then starts shuffling the deck.
"The Tarot, as you know," he says, "is divided into the Major Arcana and the Minor Arcana. I've already split the seventy-eight cards into the Major and Minor Arcana—we'll just be working with the Major Arcana for now."
Chris finishes shuffling the deck and places it in front of you. "I want you to draw a card and meditate on it—you don't have to show it to me if you don't want to."
You nod slowly, take a breath to calm your sudden nerves, and reach out for the deck. You draw a card, turn it over, and find yourself staring at it in mortification.
It's The Lovers: the sixth card, representing relationships and choices—you remember that much.
It's official: the universe has it in for you.
"What did you draw?" Chris asks, his head tilted to the side.
Wordlessly, you show him the card. There's a flicker of something in his green eyes that you can't identify. Surprise, maybe? Then he clears his throat and when he speaks, his voice is surprisingly even. "The Lovers. Relationships, choices. They don't have anything to hide from each other. As part of a spread, it can represent wanting to become… intimate with someone—among other meanings."
He looks away for a moment, swallows, before refocusing on the card and handing it back to you. "Anyway. When you can, meditate on it, all right?"
You nod, find yourself suddenly staring at his lips, wanting to kiss him…
Then he's pushing himself to his feet, and the moment has passed. You stand up too, the card tight in your grip, and start to back away.
Before you know what you're doing, you've turned back to him—something like to hell with it in the back of your mind—stepped into Chris's personal space, and pressed your lips against his. As soon as you break the kiss, you turn and flee without looking back.
)O(
Meditating on the Tarot card you drew doesn't help. You've lit a candle, done your favorite energy-raising method, and set the card in the middle of the circle. But looking at it, closing your eyes to help concentrate… all you can think about is Chris. The encounter with him in the kitchen last night, the kiss… and you want more. Now, deep in your meditation, your mind wanders, conjuring up images: his kiss, his touch…
The Goddess is laughing at you, you just know it.
Your eyes snap open at the sound of a soft knock on your door, and a faint groan of frustration leaves you when you see that it's Chris standing in the doorway. (Well, "standing" isn't entirely accurate. He's leaning against the doorframe with one leg crossed over the other.)
"I just wanted to see how your meditation was going," he says. A moment later he takes in your demeanor and his expression shifts to something close to concern. "Are you all right?"
"Take a wild guess." It comes out more sarcastic than you intended, and you inwardly wince.
Chris doesn't seem too fazed, tilts his head to the side. His green gaze seems to be looking right through you. "I know I'd said I would leave you alone, but if that's what you want…"
"It isn't," you say before you can stop yourself.
He doesn't really react, as if he'd expected that much. "All right, then." There's a pause, then: "And your meditation?"
You smile faintly, remember snippets of a spell you once read and urge him closer with a gesture. "'Love, I call you, come to me. As is my will, so mote it be.'"