Child Protective Services

Chris and Steve managed to make it back to the manor with minimal damage to any further conversation. Steve had never bitten his tongue so hard in his life. Chris was already tormenting himself enough, and the poor boy still had to have enough energy left to apologize to Jared and help set up for the evening. The most effective way Steve found to remain silent was to continually tell himself, over and over, that Type A personalities, such as Chris, were famous for dying early deaths.

"Hey guys," said Dylan, sitting on the front steps. "How was shopping?"

Chris was immediately suspicious, and with good reason. Experience had taught him that anytime Dylan did anything without adding at least a pinch of eccentricity, something was up. His greetings, his clothing, his dancing... Even his signature had a butterfly next to it - he had signed his name that way since he was old enough to write, and never had the heart to change it. Plus, he secretly reveled in the subtle condescending looks and the stifled chuckled of cashiers, restaurants servers, and any other judgmental soul present at the time of his signage; it gave him a chance to practice his self-assured, devil-may-care attitude, though his innate friendliness, albeit somewhat detached, prevented him from stooping to the level of those who passive-aggressively insulted him.

Greetings and signatures aside, the real question on Chris's mind was why Dylan was waiting on the front steps in the first place. "Uh... Hey."

Dylan hurriedly stood up. "Chris, what say you and me take a walk, huh?" he asked, with forced enthusiasm.

"I just took a walk. A long walk." Chris cocked his head towards Steve. "with HIM."

"Yeah, I know, but Chef Paisley said he's outta cranberry juice." Dylan's hands were shaking. Clearly all was not well in the Halliwell Household.

(Does he actually think I'm gonna fall for this?)

Steve sported an endearingly dopey expression on his seemingly clueless face. "Uh... Nope," he said with an endearing dopiness. "Lee Lee's little list of lacking liquids; we got'cher cranberry juice right hyah."

Dylan smacked his palm again his forehead. "Did I say cranberry juice? I meant apple juice," he said, no attempt to disguise his horrible acting.

"Got that too," Chris said suspiciously. His eyes glared with the intensity of a spotlight detectives used to aggressively interrogate their suspects.

"Raspberry juice?"

"Christ, Dylan," Chris said impatiently. "Lucille Ball could distract someone better than you."

(Hell, I wouldn't believe me either.) Dylan briefly contemplated whether of not he should even make another attempt to stall. Instead, he sighed in defeat and stepped out of the way, wondering why Jared and Lee had picked him to stand guard when absolutely anybody else would have been a wiser choice; including Steve, had he been there.

Chris immediately crept up the front steps and put his ear against the crack between the two doors of the main entrance. He listened intently to the secretive conversation indoors.

"Can't I at least stay until dinner? I'll leave right after, I promise!" As expected, the voice was one that Chris was used to hearing daily; that of an eager young man in his late teens. And, of course, the owner of said voice was indeed supposed to have remained in the future until the set time. But then, if everyone else was showing up today, why should Rider be any different?

"No Rider," said Jared. "That's the whole point! Chris is already flipping out that two of us came early... One more is gonna..."

Seeing the heated expression on Chris' face, Dylan was no longer nervous, but genuinely afraid. "Just listen to him Chris, that's all I'm gonna say." he said cautiously.

Chris's voice was as the calm before a storm. "Oh, I'll listen to him..." he said, "and then I'm gonna sell his kidneys on ebay." With a toss of his head, Chris silently demanded that Dylan open the door.

Once Chris, Dylan, and Steve were all inside, Chris slammed the door shut with his foot, causing the nearby wooden furniture to tremble. Jared, Lee, and Rider froze in a small clump of nerves at the bottom of the stairs.

Chris felt his every muscle in his body becoming tight as a drum. He strained to keep his volume at a socially acceptable level. "Would everyone come here please?" he called out tensely.

Chris handed his grocery bags to Dylan, who, along with Steve, carried them to a nearby bench and set them down, before joining the clump of nervous young men near the Main Hall entrance, roughly 20 feet away. It was as close as they felt they could safely come. Rider, the newest addition to the future family visitors, stood at the front of the huddle, though out of obligation; not by choice.

Chris's efforts to control his temper rendered his voice quiet, almost too quiet. "Rider... Would you come here please?"

"Not until somebody calls Child Protective Services." Rider answered, followed by a gargantuan gulp.

"Rider..."

"And an ambulance!"

Chris cleared the gravel from his throat. "Rider," he said, louder and more commanding, "come here please."

"I've got witnesses."

"Don't count on it," Chris threatened. "Not after I'm done with them."

Steve gazed wondrously at Chris, "God, he's gorgeous when he's angry!"

"Um, Steve?" Lee said nervously, afraid Steve would make a bad thing worse. "Not to cramp your style or anything, but could ya' please not -"

"Somethin' about the way his nostrils flare..."

"I see that. I'd really like to see my 16th birthday too."

Chris clinched his fists. "Rider!" he snapped forcefully, "For the last time... Come here!"

Rider, his voice breaking as though he'd just entered puberty, replied, "Um... Okay." It took him a moment to get his legs to move. "H-, h-, here I come!" His first few steps were practically microscopic. "How's that ambulance comin', guys?" he muttered to the others, though he was too petrified to turn back around.

After taking the agonizing steps toward his potential assassin, Rider stood directly in front of Chris. Past experience had shown him, in situations such as these, that allowing more than three feet to exist between the two men was clearly unacceptable. "Okay, but before you get mad..."

Chris took Rider by the arms and pulled him into a tight, protective embrace. After a moment, he stepped back and placed his hands on Rider's shoulders. "Are you okay? You're not hurt are you?" The soft concern in Chris's eyes was a sight with which Rider was quite familiar, but it had never been a reliable sign of the impending consequences of his actions. Still trembling and confused, Rider shook head.

Chris's manner suddenly changed. "Good," he said firmly, gripping the young man by the arm, swatting him on the behind, and pushing him to the side. "You stand right there! I'll deal with you later." Turning to face the others, Chris folded his arms and scowled. "Who wants to go first?"

Jared braved the first attempt. "Chris, I know you're upset, but..."

"Damn right I'm upset!" Chris loudly interrupted. "You were gonna hide this from me?"

Dylan took his turn. "Whoa whoa whoa. What makes you think -?"

Chris ignored him. "Where's the other?"

"Not here," Jared said quickly. "Rider came by himself.."

"Cut the crap, ALL of you!" Chris snapped angrily. "What the HELL were you thinking? That I wouldn't notice if you came one at a time?"

Rider rushed to their defense. "They had nothing to do with it," he said, "and by the way, you're doing it again."

Chris turned to him. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Just then, the tension was broken by the opening of the front door. "Hey you guys!" said Piper cheerfully, stepping into the Manor. Leo followed closely after, shutting the door behind him. They were each carrying two brown paper bags.

Piper instantly sensed the palpable tension in the room. "Well, that's odd," she said. "Why do I feel like I'm watching a silent film?"

Lee tried, for Chris's sake, not to sound as happy as he was. "We have a new arrival."

Rider raised his hand. "This just in."

Piper flinched as her eyes fell on the tall, handsome young man, standing a few feet away from Chris. "Well, hello there." she said pleasantly, wondering if she and Leo needed to turn around and head back to the grocery store.

Rider smiled and waved cautiously, still a bit rattled by the earlier confrontation, but excited to introduce himself. "And a big hello back at'cha," he said playfully. "I'm Ri-"

"No, don't tell me.. Let me guess!" Leo interrupted, feeling like he needed to score a few points to satisfy Piper in the memorization department. " I dunno," he said to Piper, thinking there were too many possibilities to make a single choice. "What do you think?"

Piper enjoyed the opportunity to look at the young man. This way she had an excuse to stare at him without appearing rude or invasive. "Well... you're obviously older than Lee, and you seem just a little bit younger than Jared."

Chris sighed impatiently. "He's 18."

"Hush!" Piper said with a grin.

Rider put a hand on his mouth to try and hide his laugh, but his bouncing shoulders gave him away.

Chris propped his hands up on his hips. "What are you laughing at?" he asked, though his mood was already brightening.

"He has your hair and skin tone," Leo said to Piper.

"So coloring from the Halliwell side." said Piper proudly.

"Those are definitely my eyes though." said Leo.

"Ooh, you're right!" Piper agreed, looking back and forth between Leo and Rider.

Leo did the math. "And we know that Lee's number nine at 15 and Dylan's number seven at... What was it?"

"19." answered Piper.

"Okay, so if Dylan is 19 and you're 18, that makes you number 8."

Chris was beginning to find his parents' game a little ridiculous. Plus, he'd been looking forward to introducing Rider to them for quite awhile. "Mom, remember when you said you hoped I had a son as stubborn as I am?"

Piper's mouth still smiled, though her eyes were full of suspicion and curiosity.

"Mom and Dad," Chris placed a hand on Rider's shoulder. "Meet your grandson."