Title: Last Chance on the Stairway
Characters: Wyatt & Bianca, their kids, Chris
Disclaimer: Belongs to Spelling Entertainment and all other associated people. I take full right to Bianca and her kids and um the future life that won't be *sobs*
Summary: Matt gets irritated with his mother, Chrystal learns how to use telekinesis, and Patrick (as always) gets into some mischief
Word Count: 1,126
“Mom! Where are my sneakers?” Matt yelled down the stairs.
“Where you left them!” Bianca shouted back.
She looked again to Patrick, dipping the spoon into the bowl of baby food sitting before him and raising it to his lips. Most of it already covered his hands and he smeared it on the white table of the high chair as he tapped his hands in anticipation. Instead of opening his mouth he again tried to grab the spoon with his hands. Bianca pulled it away, already well aware that he had decided a game of grasping the spoon and licking the mess from his hands was much more fun.
“I can’t find them!” Bianca heard Matthew call again after a few minutes.
“They’re in your room!”
“No they’re not!”
Bianca gritted her teeth. Her two sons were driving her up the wall. She was certain Matthew had left his shoes behind the door again. She had seen them there.
“Mom!” he yelled again impatiently.
“Matty, can you wait five minutes?” she snapped. “I’m trying to feed your brother.”
She saw the plate move of its own accord and crash to the ground. She knew Patrick hadn’t shown any signs of telekinesis thus far, and with his attention fully fixated on the spoon it was unlikely to be him and more likely to be her eldest child having a temper tantrum. She pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek in annoyance.
“Matt,” she said curtly. She heard orbs behind her as he appeared. She turned in her chair to look at him. “Did you do that?”
“You weren’t listening to me,” Matt answered, folding his arms disagreeably. “You always pay him more attention than me.”
“You had seven years of me before he came along,” Bianca chided. “He’s too young to take care of himself, unlike you.”
“Yeah but he doesn’t have to leave the house in ten minutes.”
Sighing, Bianca stood and scooped up the plate on the ground, placing it back in front of Patrick and looking at him carefully before deciding he’d be okay on his own for a few minutes.
“We’ll get you cleaned up when I come back,” she said to him before turning to Matthew, gently giving him a push and following him out of the room.
* * *
“I can’t do it, Uncle Chris!” Chrystal protested, glumly folding her arms and lowering them onto her lap.
Seated next to her on the front porch, Chris looked from his barefooted niece to her sandals lying on the walkway. He knew she was finding it difficult; she hadn’t worked out her trigger yet.
“Yes you can. You just have to concentrate,” he said reassuringly.
Chrystal narrowed her eyes and stared at the sandals again, furrowing her brow as she tried her hardest to concentrate. The shoes still didn’t move. Eliciting an aggravated growl of frustration, she sat back.
“It’s stupid,” she said, deciding that it was magic’s fault to blame and not hers.
“Why don’t you try using your hand? It’s easier. It works for me.”
Carelessly she waved her hand in their direction. Chris saw one sandal slide forward. Triumphantly he smiled.
“There we go. See, you did it,” he said.
“No I didn’t,” she argued.
“Look,” Chris said. She looked disbelievingly at the shoes. To illustrate his point, Chris pushed himself up and headed over to the sandals, kneeling down and measuring the distance with his fingers before lifting them to show her. “They moved this much.”
“Really?” Chrystal asked, brightening a little.
“Yeah, of course. You had them together, now they’re apart. And I’m sure you can do it again. I think irritation seems to be the part of you that helps it.”
“So I gotta get mad to do it?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Chris replied, shrugging as he stood.
“Hmm… k I’m mad Matt broke my dollhouse,” she said, sweeping her hand at the shoes. Chris stepped back as they moved a little more. Chrystal gasped, seeing it in action for the first time. “I did it! Look, daddy, I moved it!”
Wyatt looked over from the car he was cleaning, stopping the sponge over the roof as he observed what had happened between his younger brother and daughter.
“Well done,” he said, pulling the sponge back and placing it in the bucket of water. “Your Uncle Chris is a fine teacher.”
“Yeah, especially when it’s not something that comes naturally like for some people,” Chris remarked, folding his arms.
Wyatt walked over to the hose, holding it up menacingly and arching an eyebrow as he looked at his brother. He leant down to turn the tap on and Chris smirked, shaking his head and holding a hand up warningly.
“Patrick!” Bianca shouted, pulling open the door and looking outside.
“Bianca?” Chris asked, looking back to her.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Wyatt asked, discerning her anxiety by the fretful way she passed her hands back through her hair and combed it behind her ears, looking around the front yard fearfully.
“Where’s Patrick?” she asked.
“I thought he was inside with you,” Wyatt replied with concern.
“He is. I mean, was.” She screwed her nose up. “Matt called me away.”
“He’s over there, mommy,” Chrystal piped up, pointing towards the driveway.
“Patrick, no!” Bianca said when she saw him running down towards the road. “Wy!”
Hearing the desperation in her voice, Wyatt quickly turned to see his youngest son toddling in his direction by the side of the car. Hastily he took a few steps towards him, only to see him stop by the bucket and pick the sponge up out of it, pressing it to his chest and soaking his clothes in soapy water before raising it to his head and pressing down. Letting out a relieved laugh, Wyatt closed in on him.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, picking him up, taking the sponge from his hands and dropping it back into the bucket. “That’s for the car, not for you.”
Chris turned his face away, laughing quietly. Bianca’s worried expression slowly broke into an amused smile.
“I guess he took it upon himself to clean up,” she said, embarrassed that the young child had followed her suggestion in a strangely original sort of way.
“Maybe I should hose you down,” Wyatt suggested jokingly to Patrick, looking him up and down. He giggled.
“It’s okay. I’ll give him a bath,” Bianca said, making her way down the steps and over to them. She lifted Patrick from Wyatt’s grasp. “You finish the car. You have to take Matt out soon.”
“You alright with Uncle Chris?” Wyatt asked Chrystal.
“Uh huh,” she replied brightly, nodding eagerly. “Just don’t be too long, daddy. You’ll miss out on the pizza otherwise.”