Passionate

This is a collection of Passions themed drabbles I am writing to celebrate the 20th anniversary of this beloved show. I hope you enjoy them!

Cake

Blame it on the damn cake - or rather, that silly mortal tradition, as her mother Tabitha had referred to it.

Endora and Maria had gone to the event of the season in Harmony - also known as Sheridan and Luis's wedding - and had come home carrying generous slices of tres leches tucked carefully inside twin Tupperware containers. Maria's aunt Theresa had told them earlier in the evening of the legend that said if they were to put wedding cake under their pillows they would dream about the men they were someday to marry.

Maria, ever the romantic, had gone straight up to bed with her slice of tres leches while Endora, generally more pragmatic, dawdled downstairs debating over what to do. Her mother told her to just eat the damn thing because smushing it under her pillow was a waste of a perfectly delicious confectionary treat.

Endora couldn't explain what compelled her to finally go upstairs and sneak the Tupperware into her pillowcase. She just felt that she should do it. What could be the harm in it anyway?

After changing into her favorite comfy, midnight blue nightgown, she shut off the lights and climbed into her small twin bed. She lay on the mattress, shifting about, trying to get comfortable with what felt like a rock beneath her skull. It took at least two hours of fidgeting and frustration before fatigue finally overtook her and she dropped off into a deep sleep.

It didn't take long for her to enter the Dream State. She was a witch, after all. They always had eventful dreams. Important dreams. Prophetic dreams…

She found herself in some kind of field. (Weren't there always fields in these kind of dreams?) A swirl of white mist gathered around the hem of her amber dress, clinging to her supple body. At sixteen, she had developed quite nicely, but in her dreams, she was even curvier and prettier. She looked startlingly pouty and perky. She liked her appearance here - she was both sultry and sophisticated.

All she could see for miles was that mist - that penetrating white fog. She started walking - very regal-like in her impossibly high stiletto heels. She wasn't sure how long or how far she had walked before she seemingly arrived at her destination, a small house - something like a boating house or a little shanty. She didn't know what to make of it exactly.

She walked to the door that suddenly appeared through the mist. She tried the knob in her hand, feeling no fear, only a sense of needing to find something, or someone, very urgently. She heard water lapping nearby as she pushed back the door. She walked inside. The mist preceded her. Through it though, she could just make out the figure of someone; a tall someone.

"Hello," Endora called out in greeting. She wasn't afraid. For one, she wasn't the fearful type. Her mother hadn't raised her to cower and she had already tangled many times with the things that went bump in the night and had survived. Two, she sensed this person … whomever they were … was goodness personified. Someone she really wanted to know.

Needed to know. "Who are you? Come over here," she said. Gently, yet commanding.

The mist began to part, starting from the floorboards swirling upwards. Bare feet were unveiled first to her naked eye. Then lean legs. Denim hugged them in all of the right places. The mist swirled upwards still more, revealing a hard, muscular - but not obnoxiously so! - chest. Bronze skin, dark nipples, strong broad shoulders and a lean, taut throat.

Endora sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Her whole body had begun to tremble as the last of the fog ebbed away. She couldn't believe who she now stared at - who gazed at her with such perfect, heavy-lidded green eyes.

"Miguel," she said hoarsely. She was verbose by nature; always had been, even when she was just a little one. But right then, additional words failed her. She just stood there, gaping at this beautiful specimen of man, wondering exactly what was going on. How did he get into her dream? Sure he was a great guy; she'd known him forever, but he was what - thirty-something? Not to mention that he was Kay's husband and her best friend Maria's father! And yet here in the misty ether of dreams, none of that exactly mattered, did it?

He moved to her; scooped her into his arms, pulled her flush against his strong chest, murmured soft Spanish words against her ear that she couldn't possibly hope to understand. She shivered as his warm breath tickled her ear and his arms cradled her. "Endora, beautiful, sweet Endora, I have been waiting for you. I've been waiting so long for us to be together. Now it's time," Miguel whispered.

"Dame un beso."

That command she definitely understood. He gently cupped her chin in his hand, hovered his full lips near hers, leaned in close and …

Endora jolted upright in bed. Her forehead was sweaty; her heart hammered almost painfully against her ribcage. She panted wildly. She'd never had a dream quite like this one - so vivid; so intimate. It was almost claustrophobic in nature, but also so entirely pleasant that she was shaken to her very core. She reached for her pillow to find the Tupperware still there. She told herself that the power of suggestion was responsible for all of this… but why Miguel? Why should he of all people appear in her dreams? That was the part she could not figure out.

Come morning, she hesitated to head downstairs, so sure that when she walked into the kitchen for breakfast, Miguel would be there as always with Kay and they would both see it. Somehow they would both know what she had dreamt about. She would be humiliated.

However, when she finally gathered her courage and slipped into the kitchen, she found it blessedly empty. She sighed with relief, planning to just grab a quick bite of cereal and fly out of there in a hurry - on her broomstick, if necessary.

She was busy filling a bowl with Lucky Charms when she heard bare feet padding across the linoleum. She instinctively turned around and her mouth formed into a little "O". Miguel stood there - bare-chested, wearing low-riding jeans and looking every bit as handsome as he had in her dream. She felt her face color and she quickly turned away.

"Hey, kiddo," Miguel said, breaking the awkward silence. "How'd you sleep?"

"Oh... Uh, good," Endora managed to say. She wondered if he knew. Was there some part of him that knew what she had dreamt? Was that possible or was she just going insane? And why - why did he have to call her kiddo? She was sixteen! She was practically a woman. In two years, she would be legal - old enough to date him; old enough to marry him even!

Wait, where had that thought come from? He was already married! To Kay. Kay who had always treated Endora like her own. It was wrong to have these lascivious thoughts about Miguel and yet … She couldn't make them stop now.

Endora sighed and watched him under her long eyelashes as he moved about the kitchen. He tried to engage her in idle chatter but she could hardly keep up her end of the conversation, so focused was she on watching his mouth, noticing just how pronounced those dimples of his were... He really was the perfect package.

Maria appeared at some point, practically pouncing on Endora. "I dreamt about my future husband!" Maria crowed. "Guess who I dreamt about?"

Endora's eyes strayed again to Miguel. He buttered toast and she decided that was the sexiest show of buttering toast ever committed by a single living person. "Uh, who?" Endora asked absent-mindedly.

"Niall Horan!" Maria gushed. "I dreamt about Niall Horan. I just knew I was going to marry someone from One Direction." Maria fairly danced around the kitchen. "Oh, Endora, who'd you dream about? Who's your future husband going to be?"

Endora about choked on her tongue. She forced her eyes away from Miguel. "Uh... Another one of the One Direction guys," she lied. "You know the one with uh... lots of uh... hair...?" She had never been one for obsessing over popstars. That was Maria's thing; not hers.

"Harry Styles? Do you mean Harry Styles? Are you going to marry Harry?" Maria's brown eyes danced.

Endora nodded. "Yes, that's him." Maria grabbed her hands and fairly danced Endora around the kitchen with her, screaming, "Papa, Papa! We're going marry the most handsomest guys in the whole world!"

Miguel chuckled. "Okay, well, I want to meet these handsome dudes first; make sure they're worthy of you two," he said indulgently. He winked at them both and Endora's heart fluttered. He grabbed his toast and he then he walked out of the kitchen.

Maria's chattering faded into the periphery of her consciousness as Endora sighed. She understood her destiny now. She was going to marry Miguel Lopez-Fitzgerald someday. She knew that instinctively. Somehow, someway, consequences be damned, they were going to be together.

- Where exactly this drabble idea came from, I'm not sure, but I hope it turned out halfway alright. Enjoy! lol