Everything

by Lynx Larabellows

It had been a mistake, a simple, stupid mistake that could have been entirely avoided had he not given in and lost control of himself... turns out it was the best thing that could have happened to him. Compliant with Finding Yourself. Changed Future.

6. The Restaurant

¸.·´¯·»Chapter Five«·´¯·.¸
¸.·´¯·»¸.·´¯·»The Restaurant«·´¯·.¸«·´¯·.¸

There had been a rather large crowd milling around the front entrance of Charmed since the moment the staff had arrived, and it had only continued to grow as the clock drew nearer to opening at noon. The staff had been working for the past hour, preparing the tables and touching up areas that the cleaning staff of last night may have missed. It usually only took them half an hour to get everything set up, though given the mood their employer had been in the past few days, everyone had taken to arriving early so that everything would be in pristine condition by the time she arrived.

When the owner and head chef, Piper Halliwell, finally made her appearance, the entire staff had tensed slightly, expecting her to be just as disagreeable as she had been the previous day, and the days before that. However, much to their pleasant surprise, she was smiling the moment she walked through the door, humming a soft tune to herself before she tied her apron and her black chef coat on and set about washing her hands thoroughly so she could begin preparing the sauces for the many dishes they served.

General looks of confusion followed the pleasant return of their kind hearted employer, instead of the snippy and loud doppelganger that had replaced her four days ago, though no one would complain about it. Moments later, two more familiar faces emerged from the staff lounge in the back, and began refreshing the water bowls for the candles that were situated on each table. The youngest, Melinda, worked here five days out of the week, and even the middle child, Chris, was a commonplace working in the kitchens during the weekends when they were busiest. Though seeing the eldest son of Piper among them was much less frequent. He would occasionally cover shifts once in a while, either as a bartender or as a waiter, when someone called in sick or couldn't make it. He was not allowed to cover for the chefs or the sous chefs however. Everyone knew that, as a general rule, he was not allowed to enter the kitchens unless he was just picking something up. He had a tendency to… burn food… and the pan it was in… and the stove it was cooking on… and the walls around it.

Piper made it absolutely clear that her eldest son was never allowed to cook in her restaurant.

And seeing Wyatt walking around, in an outfit that was most definitely not the standard uniform, they all realized why their boss was in such a good mood today. Melinda, too, had been in quite an upset and angry mood this past week, though nowhere near in the same state as her mother. She had been cranky the first night, complaining that her brother was being stupid to anyone within hearing distance, and the next day she had clearly been worried though no less irritable. The third day she had been upset enough to cry, and had to leave early because she almost dropped an entire tray of hot food on their customers while attempting not to start bawling.

Today, however, she was clearly and utterly pissed off, despite the fact that her brother was apparently safe and sound and right beside her. She roughly bumped into his shoulder several times as everyone continued to set up, stomped heavily on his foot while he began setting out the stools at the bar, and even kicked him in the shins after exchanging a few harsh words. It was an amusing sight, the rest of the staff knowing to stay far away from the angry teenager as she made it her mission to make her brother miserable.

Wyatt himself was gritting his teeth and attempting to give his sister a wide berth, though she made it a point to approach him almost every five minutes until the restaurant finally opened. The lunch crowed was always a lot quieter than the dinner crowd, and people tended to drink less this early in the afternoon. He had to make the occasional martini or pour a glass of wine for the first hour, and he even had to make a Shirley Temple once or twice, though he simply stood and watched people come and go for the most part. He preferred working the evening shifts, because at least people wanted to drink liquor at night and kept him busy enough not to be so bored.

A little after one o'clock, Wyatt found himself feeling strangely anxious, and it took him several moments to realize that he felt a strange pull to look towards the front entrance. And so he did, and for a moment timed seemed to stop around him as he focused his gaze upon the young woman with dark burgundy hair. He nearly choked on the glass of water he was drinking, swallowing thickly and briefly wondering if he was simply imagining her standing there.

Guilt he had ruthlessly pushed down to be later brooded upon resurfaced with a vengeance as he spotted the poorly concealed dark circles beneath her eyes, though it was replaced not a moment later with a pleasant sort of warmth as a breathtaking smile alit her face as she gazed all around her, her emerald eyes joyfully taking in the high chandeliers and the subtle decorations of the restaurant. It pleased him that she was in high spirits, at least. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered, wearing a simple peasant blouse and a pair of jeans. Her hair was hanging in loose curls around her face, and she seemed so happy that he couldn't help the smile that worked its way onto his own face.

The pleasant warmth and the smile faltered, however, no more than a moment later as soon as he realized that she was not alone. Her arm was linked with the much more bulky, muscled arm of a man. He was taller than her, wearing a ridiculous tee shirt stretched over a wide chest with a beat up old jacket over it, ratty jeans that had holes large enough to see his knees, and unlaced boots. He had a hat on as well, an old black beanie that made his head look far too small for his body, and there was the makings of a scruffy beard on his face. He looked distinctly out of place among the elegant yet comfortable atmosphere of the restaurant, and even more out of place at the arm of such a beautiful young woman.

Wyatt developed an instant and unwarranted dislike of the man, unintentionally twisting the rag he used to tidy up spills between his hands as he watched them be escorted to a table. He idly wiped down the counter in front of him, despite having done it not more than ten minutes ago, his eyes glued to the redhead as she gave the man a quick hug before taking her seat and eagerly opening her menu, excitement clearly painted across her face as her eyes darted back and forth. Her companion was clearly amused, a reluctant smile on his own face as he too looked through the menu.

Wariness filled Wyatt as he watched the very irate Melinda begin to approach the table, a protest already on the tip of his tongue as she passed by the bar, though he held back as soon as he saw that she had calmed down a bit already and was smiling brightly, though obviously not sincerely even if he was probably the only one to realize it. He watched the proceedings with rapt attention as his sister greeted the two with a false pleasantness, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as she retreated to get their drink orders.

He was not even sure why he was nervous about his sister interacting with his… with Brígh. It was not like Melinda had been the one gifted with telepathy or visions. She had no knowledge of Brígh or the slight indiscretion they had committed together. And Brígh obviously knew nothing about his little sister. So he should not be wary about the two of them talking, because it was in an official capacity and not an actual conversation. He tried to release some of his tension, a task he found was increasingly difficult the more he continued to watch the interaction between Brígh and her… friend.

Wyatt was absolutely not jealous of how close they seemed, or how easy their conversation was. He could recall how easy it was talking to Brígh. Her calm and attentive demeanor had him nearly spilling his every deep dark secrets to her last night within mere hours, and he doubted that all of it was a loose tongue from the alcohol. He wasn't jealous… perhaps a bit envious that this man got to have a wonderful lunch with a beautiful woman that Wyatt was attracted to. But it wasn't jealousy—

What the hell does he think he's doing? Wyatt thought darkly, his knuckles turning bone white with tension as he gripped the counter. He watched with critical eyes as the grungy looking man begin to lean his upper body across the table, his neck extending in a move that would have been obvious to a child. He was leaning in for a kiss. Oh, hell no! He glowered, positively glowered at the man, and abruptly the glass of water tipped itself over all over the front of the man's clothing without anyone ever touching it.

The boiling anger in his veins suddenly cooled, and Wyatt inwardly winched at how childish he was being, though that did nothing to stop him from watching victoriously as the man scrubbed helplessly at his clothes with a napkin. Not that it would help, because the man would still be wearing that ridiculous shirt and those hideous pants and the stupid boots. The man eventually retreated to the restrooms to see if he could clean up a bit and Wyatt released his crushing grip once he was out of sight. It had been an accident, his powers reacting because he… because he… he didn't like seeing public displays of affection. That's all. He was not jealous.

Wyatt groaned miserably, throwing the rag down with a heavy sigh, resisting the urge to grip his head in dismay. He was jealous, completely and utterly jealous… and more than a bit hurt. He could vaguely recall offering to take Brígh to this very restaurant last night, with the promise of introducing her to the best chocolate cake recipe ever made. And seeing her here now with someone that was most definitely not him was not improving his mood for anything. In fact his mood was swiftly deteriorating with each passing moment, all because of some man he had never even met. He had no right to be jealous of that man, or lash out with a petty need to assert himself. He had given up having any claims to this particular young woman by vanishing this morning without a trace.

So what if she apparently had a boyfriend… and who was to say that it was even her boyfriend? She said nothing about being committed last night that he could remember, and he knew that yesterday had been her birthday. A friend could have easily reserved a table here as a surprise to her, as a gift. In fact he rather liked this scenario, much better than what he had originally assumed. He had friends that were girls, which meant that she could have friends that were guys. It was none of his business who she was friends with yet anyway… or at all. Damn it.

"I'm going crazy," he muttered lowly.

"You think?" Melinda sneered as she slapped down an order for a glass of wine on the counter in front of him. He watched her practically stalk away angrily, before filling the order and sending it off with another waiter. Melinda herself was still a minor, and therefore not allowed to touch anything containing alcohol yet. She could take the orders for it, she just had to have one of the older employees serve it. He turned back just in time to see his sister carry out a tray with the order for Brígh and her companion. He watched with growing amusement as Brígh fidgeted in her seat, throwing several glances towards the restrooms as the food sat untouched in front of her. She finally gave into temptation and stole a bite, and there was an expression of pure contentment and bliss on her face.

There was nothing sexual about her expression, nothing at all to garner the reaction he was having by watching her savor that one bite. And yet he swallowed a thickness lodged in his throat, tugging gently at his tie to loosen it some so he could remember how to breathe. His pupils dilated as he watched her long, graceful throat swallow, a soft pink tongue darting out clean her lip of a drop of sauce. Wyatt was sure he looked ridiculous, his eyes glued to her form as she leisurely opened her eyes. She paused momentarily, and soon her head tilted from side to side, her eyes gliding around the vast room searchingly. And then she looked directly at him, and he fought the instinctive urge to look away for being caught. Her eyes widened slightly as she obviously realized he was staring at her in a very penetrating sort of way, and he waited for any flash of recognition from her so that he could approach her and interrupt her date because he was hating everything about this.

Only… only there was no recognition save for a brief flash in her eyes before confusion dominated her delicate features. She stared at him just as intently as he stared at her, a frown of deep contemplation on her face. It felt like a physical blow to the stomach as he realized what her reaction meant. He was pretty sure she did not recognize him. And Wyatt was torn with indecision of whether he should sing a halleluiah chorus or mourn the fact that he was so forgettable to her. Then again she had consumed enough alcohol last night to make last night simply disappear, especially since it was her first night drinking so heavily. He himself had trouble remembering her this morning.

A trembled surged through her body, and he exhaled slowly as he watched.

Wyatt wished he could smile at her, or wave at her or at least do anything other than stand here like a right idiot. What is she thinking? He cursed the fact that he had been deprived of that particular ability, unlike his younger cousin. He found it difficult to move, and even harder to breathe. He almost wished she did recognize him. Did she even know what had happened last night? Did she even remember anything from last night? He sincerely hoped she had at least some recollection of what had transpired between them, even if she wanted to never speak to him again, because her never remembering would be just a cruel twist of fate.

A moment later his features clouded over when he spotted the approach of her companion and whatever spell between the two of them was broken by his reappearance. He seemed to have dried up enough, unfortunately. Wyatt was absolutely not tempted to accidentally tip the man's soda over him as he retook his seat just to make him leave again. He really wasn't… okay, maybe just a little bit tempted to do it. But he wouldn't, because he had a feeling that his staring had made Brígh uneasy. And why wouldn't it, if she had no idea who he was? He probably looked like a shady stalker with his rumpled shirt and stained apron, not to mention his hair. His sister had pulled back for him—he could still feel the scratches on his neck and scalp stinging from it—though it was still a tangled mess.

Wyatt tried to mind his own business as lunch continued on, and business picked up at the bar a bit for a while. Although no matter how hard he tried, he inevitably turned to look at the small alcove where the private table was located. He felt as if he was being pulled by some unseen force, as if she were a magnet and he had no choice in the matter. And he had to get himself under control. She noticed his constant staring, how could she not? He really was a stalker. And a bad one at that, because he was so blatant about it that he even managed to make his sister take notice of his staring as she walked by him to enter the kitchens.

"Okay, spill," she demanded, her hands resting on her hips in a motherly fashion.

"Spill what?" he asked, closing a bottle of wine and setting aside so he could look at her.

Melinda gave a slight stomp of her foot, disbelief and anger warring in her eyes. "I know you told Chris what happened, and why you took off," she said haughtily, leaning in closer as she began speaking rapidly and nearly swatting him in the face as she gestured angrily. Melinda was someone who spoke with her hands quite often, which could be potentially dangerous considering that she had inherited more from their mother than her looks and temperament. "You always tell him everything! And you never tell me anything, and I was so worried about you, and you still keep ignoring me when I talk to you and I want to know what is going on because you're my brother and I care about you! And now you are acting really weird, and it's freaking me out!"

"Mel," Wyatt sighed, quelling her with a placating look. He placed a hand on her shoulder, frowning slightly as her chin quivered a bit, either from anger or hurt, it was hard to distinguish. "I am so sorry, Mel. I never meant to treat you different than Chris, I swear that I didn't. I just wasn't ready to talk about it when you asked earlier, and honestly, the only reason I told Chris was because he was patient and told me that he pretty much already had an idea why I took off."

"Will you tell me?" she questioned hopefully.

Wyatt closed his eyes briefly, the last of his good mood fading. He could never deny his baby sister anything. She had both he and Chris wrapped around her pinky finger, and he cursed himself for not telling her earlier. For one, it would have prevented quite a few bruises and scratches. "Gwen cheated on me."

For a moment, she seemed to have not understood what he was saying, and then as the words registered, hate flooded her honey brown eyes. "That conniving, evil bitch," she hissed, and Wyatt fought the instinctual urge to chastise her for calling his fiancée… ex fiancée a bitch. She happened to do it quite often anyway, and now he no longer had the heart or the need to defend Gwen from his sister's wrath. Melinda trembled slightly, trying to contain her anger, and she looked up at him pitifully. "Oh, Wy," she whispered sadly, no longer feeling any anger at him for disappearing or hurt for him not telling her what was going on sooner. She was still upset, just not for the same reason. She was upset for him rather than at him.

"You look like you're about to cry," Wyatt observed, gently touching her cheek.

"She hurt you," Melinda told him. "She always hurts you."

"Not anymore."

Melinda nodded. "And the wedding?"

"We never set a date, so we had nothing to cancel," he told her. "So as soon as I feel I can talk to her without wanting to throttle her, I'll get the engagement ring back," He would have let Gwen keep the ring, and would have been content to never see her again. Only the ring was a family heirloom, first worn by his great grandmother for her first and only successful marriage. It also happened to be the only ring that had belonged to the notorious Penny Halliwell that the formidable woman had not cursed in some way… which in hindsight was quite unfortunate.

"Have you told our parents yet," she asked, though she already knew he likely answer.

Wyatt winced at the mere thought of that particular conversation. Their mother was likely to do more than just destroy every window in the attic as soon as he confessed. "Of course not," he rolled his eyes at her. "That will be a very delicate conversation. Which means that we will not speak of it until everyone has calmed down to avoid bloodshed. Only Chris, and now you, know."

Melinda smiled in satisfaction and suddenly launched herself at her brother, wrapping her thin arms tight around his neck as best as she could and buried her face into his chest. He was grateful that she was no longer angry with him, and he returned the embrace to soak up the comfort she was offering. He whispered his thanks for being upset on his behalf and trying to make him feel better, and she climbed to her tip toes and tried to kiss his cheek, though she was nearly a foot and a half shorter than him and ended up kissing his chin instead.

They were startled apart as a noise akin to a pistol going off sounded from beside them. It happened to be a sound they were both quite acquainted with, seeing as happened when either Melinda or their mother let their anger get the best of them, so their reactions were not as severe as the poor patrons around them. The two siblings eyes the broken wine bottle warily, only the base of the bottle remaining intact while the rest had literally burst apart from the inside out and had shattered in a wide circle on the counter, the merlot spilling over the edge and down to the floor.

Wyatt raised an eyebrow at his sister. "Are you really that mad?"

Melinda looked up at him in puzzlement. "Don't look at me," she muttered, sounding completely bewildered. "My anger died down a few minutes ago. And momma is in the kitchen, so I don't think she heard your confession," She shrugged uncertainly. "Maybe it was you,"

"… You mean I developed another power?" He frowned, clearly displeased with this turn of events. "I have too many of them as it is,"

"Rub it in, why don't you," Melinda groused, crossing her arms. "Between you and Chris, I already have an inferiority complex. Why must you continue to make it worse?"

Wyatt gave her a decidedly unsympathetic look. "Don't you have customers?"

"And you have a mess to clean up," she retorted, turning her heel and flouncing off.

Shaking his head with an amused snort at how quickly his baby sister's moods could shift, Wyatt began to gingerly knock the broken glass into the wastebasket that was kept behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of sanitizer so he could clean up the sticky mess it had left behind. The moment he had completed his task, he once again found himself glancing back at the table in the far corner, frowning when he realized that the object of his obsession was nowhere in sight, and yet her unwelcome companion remained.

Disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach, and he sighed as he leaned his hip against the countertop, half tempted to pour himself a drink despite his earlier resolution this morning. He apparently needed to calm down, otherwise he might just shatter something else. Perhaps it was merely because his head was still positively killing him at the moment, and that is what had set off that second burst of magic. One outburst of excessive magic was dismissible because he had been being petty at the time but two meant that he had less control at the moment then he had thought he did. He could not afford to have another flux of accidental magic. His mother would not appreciate it in her sanctuary either, so he either had to calm down or quit looking at that table.

After an inward debate with himself, he opted for the latter, though he was unable to resist one last look.

Glancing at the table once more, the young man was pleased to see that Brígh had returned to her seat. She and her companion had apparently finished their meal, and he only just noticed that they were both eating desert. Wyatt could care less what the man had been eating, though he could not help the way the involuntary smile stretched across his face as he realized what Brígh had ordered for her desert. She had ordered a slice of cake… a slice of chocolate cake to be precise. Whether she had recognized him consciously was irrelevant, because some part of her obviously did remember.

That was enough for now.

Wyatt spent the rest of his shift smiling in a rather self-satisfied sort of way, even as he had to watch the redhead leave with the other man on her arm. If that man really was her date for the day, he had a feeling that he had still won even though neither of them had been aware that they were competing for anything.

Dinner was tense that night inside of the manor, so much that Wyatt had sat in his seat pushing around the wonderful meal their mother had made with his fork instead of inhaling it as he normally did, idly listening to the hands of the antique clock as time ticked by. His good mood deteriorated with each passing moment with this unnatural silence. Dinner was usually a lively affair in this house, full of meaningless conversations to long and serious talks.

This silence was deafening, and nerved wracking.

Chris had spoken to him earlier when his shift had ended, reminding him of the fact that eventually people were going to start to realize that weeks had passed without a mention of the wedding between him and Guinevere, and then he would have to confess. He just wanted it all to go away, which had been the reason he had disappeared to begin with. He wanted to get away from it all. He wanted to ignore that it had ever happen.

Deep breaths, he told himself knowing that his procrastination was only causing more tension among his family, standing with his practically untouched plate in his hands. Both his brother and his sister were keeping it a secret for him, which meant that they were anxious around and though they were keeping it together he could tell that his mother had sensed that something was going on between them.

Bracing his hands on the countertop near the sink, Wyatt tensed as he felt the gentle hand of his mother resting upon his tout back, rubbing the tense muscles soothingly. He knew he could only put off explaining why he had scared the hell out of his family for so long, their patience already wound so tightly that it could snap back any minute and it was time to stop being selfish, to stop denying them the truth.

Lowering his head, he let out a humorless chuckle at the fact that he not even managed to keep this to himself for a day, and he had to concede that it would probably be for the best this way. A heavy sigh, laced with all of his guilt and heartache, escaped his lips as he finally pushed away from the counter to slowly turn and face his mother, hesitantly meeting her soft chocolate brown eyes.

"What is it, baby?" she asked him, her hand rising to cup the side of his face.

Wyatt smiled sorrowfully, grasping the hand within his own. His eyes flickered to the threshold of the kitchen door, where Chris and Melinda both giving him an encouraging smile before they retreated upstairs to give them some privacy. "You should probably sit down," he told her, moving towards the conservatory, where there was some comfortable seating. He gave his mother a weary glance as she sat on the sofa, adding, "And you should probably keep your hands in your lap,"

Dark eyebrows rose at the request, though she complied and he shifted nervously, opting to keep standing while her crossed his own arms over his chest. "A few days ago I stopped by to surprise Gwen with lunch…" he told them, frowning deeply as he recounted everything. "She had no idea that I would be coming over, because I was supposed to be busy booking a band for the club and interviewing for a new employee, but Chris was kind enough to take care of it because she and I hadn't had much time together recently… I used my key, and…" He ran a hand through his hair, his mouth downturned, finishing softly, "… She was with someone else."

Despite the fact that her hands were wrapped securely around each other in a tight grip, the television in the corner of the room abruptly burst apart into dozens of pieces. Wyatt eyed the mess briefly, though continued on as if nothing happened because really, there was not much to be done quite yet because should he fix it, it would likely only get blown up again in a minute.

"When I confronted her about it," he said, his voice softening until it was nearly inaudible. "She first said that it had been a mistake, only her… friend… denied it, saying they had been together for about five months…" Every vase and flowerpot in the room suddenly shattered as his mother failed to contain her anger. "She denied it at first, though it was clear that he was… well acquainted with her… and when she realized that I was going to leave, she decided to place the blame on me. She said that I was pathetic for believing that I was worth her time and that she never really intended to marry me… and…"

Wyatt could not bring himself to continue with the rest of what she had said, most of which was still too fresh in his mind that he did not want to relieve it. It was probably a better that he stop anyway, considering that all of the windows in the house had been destroyed by the halted conclusion, sharp blades of broken glass glinting dangerously upon the floors and the ground outside. His mother was shaking with suppressed rage, though she managed to contain most of it due to his utterly defeated disposition.

Before he could even make to protest, his mother had him trapped within her arms, reminiscent of the way she held him that very morning. He was helpless against her tight grip, and could only hold onto her as she cried on his behalf, apologizing to him again and again even though she was not at fault for the hurtful actions and words from Gwen. She pulled away minutes later, sniffing slightly and pulling him down so that she could press a kiss to his forehead as she used to when she tucked him into bed.

"How are you doing, baby?"

"… Better," he replied honestly. "Probably a lot better than I should be."

A watery smile was aimed at him, and she adjusted the collar of his shirt absently. "You are entitled to be as moody and mean as you want for a two week moping period," she told him. "After that I still expect you to apologize to everyone, though you get out of telling your aunts. I'll take care of it for you,"

Wyatt smiled at her gratefully, and she retreated to the kitchen with the promise of the best cure for a broken heart that this family had—some of her homemade chocolate ice cream. There was an upside to having a professional chef for a mother. The treat would take an hour at least to be ready, so he walked to his room, only to sigh when he found his brother sitting atop of his bed, flipping through one of his medical books. Wyatt had been studying in his spare time, and he eventually planned to enroll in a school to get a degree, though currently he had his hands full with running his own business... and Gwen had told him that he was already successful enough that he needn't pursue another career.

"Is this going to become a habit?" he asked dryly.

"Melinda said she would take care of the mess mom made," Chris told him succinctly, easily ignoring the question as he closed the book with a snap. "She also said you were acting weird today."

Wyatt stifled a groan at the tone of his voice. This was the brother he expected to greet him this morning, the one who would have no difficulty hammering him with questions until he broke down and told him everything no matter how reluctant he was. He gave the dark haired man a baleful glare, seating himself in his old desk chair after he snatched the book away from his brother. And then he began to describe what had happened at Charmed, of how their sister had terrorized him for the first few hours, and how he had childishly used his telekinesis to pour water over the pour, unsuspecting man that had been unfortunate enough to accompany the woman he had, not more than twenty hours ago, slept with.

And Christopher, being the annoying little brother he was, found the entire situation absolutely hilarious, laughing uproariously at his expense. "It's not funny, Christopher!" he insisted, growing in frustration as the other man continued to laugh, holding onto his sides. "Oh, just shut up."

"Come on, Wy," the younger man chuckled, his sea green eyes bright and crinkling with mirth at the corners. He was incredibly pleased with how things were progressing so far, and he had no problem expressing it. "Can you even remember the last time you lost control of your powers? Even for something as small as knocking a glass of water over? Because you were jealous?" He smiled to himself when there was no answer. "And you did it twice in one day…"

Wyatt frowned at him as he crossed his arms defensively. "I could have hurt someone," he insisted. "I could have hurt Mel. She was standing right beside me when that bottle of wine exploded. What if a piece of the glass had flown too far and embedded itself in her arm or her face? Would you be laughing then?"

"You would have healed her two seconds later, and she would have been a bit pissy for a few days," Chris returned easily, and Wyatt inwardly had to concede that his brother had a point. He would never have let her walk around hurt if he could help it. "This girl has you really worked up…"

A startled look entered his eyes. "What?"

Chris was staring at him, a speculative look in his own eyes. "You really like her, don't you,"

Though it was phrased as a question, both of them heard it for what it really was. He was stating a fact. Wyatt could not deny it, because even if he did his brother knew exactly what he was feeling. His little brother had inherited their aunt Phoebe's gift of empathy, allowing him to magically sense the emotions of the people around him. And he and Chris were very close, so it stood to reason that he would be more in tuned with Wyatt's emotions despite the fact that he tried to mask them.

"… She left quite the impression," he answered vaguely.

Chris only nodded thoughtfully, throwing him a mischievous grin. "As long as it's not the harpy,"

Wyatt leaned back as he rolled his eyes, biting his tongue against the instinctual urge to give a scathing reply. "First of all, you will be pleased to know that I will no longer reprimand you for calling my ex a harpy," he told him wryly, the grin on his brother's face only widening into a full out smile. "Second… you would probably like her. She was nothing like Gwen at all…" He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. "And I have no idea if this is because we slept together and I am just not thinking clearly but I feel… drawn to her."

"… Maybe she is your soulmate," the younger man suggested to his confession. Chris had initially meant it as a jest, a comment that was not to be taken seriously. And yet, as soon as the words passed his lips, the brothers shared a considering look. Because there was a very real possibility that Wyatt and this girl could be soulmates, even though it was an extremely rare occurrence for anyone to ever find their one true match. This family had a habit of defying the laws of nature whereas rarities were concerned. "… Maybe you should talk to dad."

Leo Wyatt was their father, and he happened to be an expert on almost every magical phenomenon in existence. He was his firstborn son's namesake, as their mother had made it a tradition for the men in their family to inherit the maiden name of Halliwell instead. He did not live in the manor despite the fact that he was a very loving father and husband, and instead had to live in a city high beyond the clouds, where he could tend to his duties as an Elder, which were practically the government officials of a group of guardian angels known as whitelighters. It was his calling to watch over the magical population along with his fellows, and to keep the peace between other races throughout the world.

As an Elder he was highly sought after for advice, and that along with his other duties kept him busy but… he still managed to make time for his family, venturing down to the surface world at least twice a week, sometimes even more, just to spend time with them. He had already been down here for too long when Wyatt had disappeared, assisting in every way he could to find his son. It was yet another thing Wyatt could feel guilty for, because it would be at least another week before their father would have time to come down. That is not to say they could not go up there to visit him, though that was usually only reserved for emergencies when they desperately needed help.

"No," Wyatt shook his head in answer, giving a mock shudder at the thought. "Even if could, no. Not asking him about soulmates. He would first want to know why, and since he still thinks I'm engaged so he would obviously assume that I was asking because of Gwen. Can you just imagine the horror on his face? He was never fond of her either," He narrowed his eyes as his brother's lips twitched in amusement. "Don't you dare laugh again, Christopher."

Chris only scoffed, though obediently hid his amusement. "So what are you going to do about your girl troubles?"

"… When are you going to get a girl of your own so you can butt out of my love life?" Wyatt asked in return, watching with delight as his brother sputtered, cheeks taking on a red hue. "Cat got your tongue?" he questioned at the lack of answer, chuckling deeply as he stood. "Come on, Christopher, you have the same genes as this," He gestured down and down the front of his body. "So we know you aren't lacking in the looks department,"

"Oh shut up," Chris muttered petulantly.

Wyatt only grinned. "Whatever you say, little brother,"

Chris huffed at him. He knew his brother was only teasing, as older brothers were prone to do but he had always had trouble with women. Wyatt was the one with all of charm when it came to them, with his dimpled smile and smooth way of talking, where Chris was awkward and would stumble over his words throughout the entire conversation, making himself look like an idiot.

People had always looked at the two brothers differently. His older brother had been an athlete growing up, and it had always reflected with his physique, while Chris had tended to strengthen his mind by reading books, and he had been a bit more on the scrawny side. Wyatt was handsome… Chris was cute. It had bothered him when they were younger, not entirely but enough that he had grown snappy once or twice when his brother was chosen over him.

Of course the envy and resentment had not lasted long, not with the big lug being his incredibly selfless and overprotective self. It was impossible to stay mad at Wyatt for anything, even when the first girl to ever pay attention to Chris had only been going out with him to catch his older brother's attention. Unfortunately enough for her, she had completely underestimated the loyalty his brother had for him, and his inherent sense of nobility.

The poor girl had been publicly humiliated when a very livid Wyatt Halliwell had approached her once the truth had been revealed. His voice had not risen below a whisper and he had not struck out them in any way at all. He had told them in no uncertain terms that if they ever came near Chris again, they would regret it. And it was not when Wyatt was loud that he should be taken seriously, it was when he was quiet that he meant business. He had made it absolutely clear that anyone willing to use his brother would not be tolerated.

Not to say that he was completely inexperienced. But still, it had been months since he had been on an actual date let alone be in an actual relationship. He had mostly grown out of the awkwardness thankfully, though he still stumbled when speaking to women, and he had decided to join Wyatt during his workouts and runs. His hard work had paid off, and he had finally managed to gain some muscle. Earlier this year he had decided to shave all of his hair off, which seemed to have the desired effect of eliminating the last cute factor, though some of it had managed to grow back already.

Now people noticed both his brother and him, though it matter very little considering that Chris had yet to find anyone who was worth his time. Even if he did manage to find someone, there was always the fact that he would essentially have to lie to them about who he really was unless he was lucky enough to find someone who was already aware of magic. His aunt had spoken to him once about the heartache of dating a mortal, of keeping the secret until the relationship began to deteriorate. And even if he did explain and prove that he was not insane and should be on medication, there was still a chance that they would be unable to accept him for it and walk away.

Chris sighed softly, and suddenly recalled the original reason he had come down to his brother's room. Not just to give him a hard time about why he had apparently been acting odd this afternoon. He had been on his way down here when Melinda had told him about the strange behavior. "Can I ask you a favor?" he asked hopefully, watching as Wyatt lifted an eyebrow curiously with a short nod on consent. "In my photography class, we are working on portraits. And so far my teacher is not impressed. Ninety percent of my pictures are of girls, because… well, let's face it, we're severely outnumbered in this family. Would you be willing to model for me?"

A skeptical eyebrow rose at the thought.

"You won't have to pose or anything," Chris hastened to add. "Just act normally. But my teacher is a woman, so…"

"Eye candy might get you a passing grade…?"

"Hey," Chris frowned at him, sounding a bit affronted. "I'm a good photographer! My photographs are good, and I could pass without—" He was interrupted as Wyatt began laughing. If not for the genuine amusement emitting from him and the crinkle to his eyes, Chris would have been content to tell him off. And yet, he found himself smiling back. "Okay, so yeah. It might get me a better grade."

"Sure, Christopher," Wyatt agreed with a smirk. "You can probably get Eric and—"

"Already asked them," he sighed. "And honestly, it isn't so much the fact that all my pictures are of girls, just that fact that it's the same girls that I always take pictures of."

Wyatt gave him a helpless shrug. "Beats me… maybe you should try people in the park,"

There was a speculative gleam in sea green eyes as Chris considered the words.

¸.·´¯·»¸.·´¯·»End«·´¯·.¸«·´¯·.¸
¸.·´¯·»Chapter«·´¯·.¸

I got a kick out of making them jealous of each others siblings for some reason. I have no idea why, but I did. Oh! And the next chapter of Finding Yourself might be a bit late. It will either be up later tonight or sometime tomorrow afternoon depending on how quickly I can get it finished.