fic: Fear in Her Eyes
Author's Note: This is sort of a future-fic set in my Leaving Marks universe. Also, it was prompted by grayglube forever ago. See? See? I finally posted it!
"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she voiced aloud, wondering even as she did so why she said it. She needed to harness her power and he was the best guinea pig around.
FEAR IN HER EYES
"I need your help."
"Looking over his outstretched arm, Warren quirked a brow and silently pulled out the textbook he'd been reaching for. "What for?" he asked, stuffing it into his ratty shoulder bag.
Claire bit her lip. "Save the Citizen," she answered quietly, leery of the other students milling about and paying her no mind, but who knew.
"So practise with your Focus partner," he grunted matter-of-factly.
Claire sighed. Somehow she'd known he'd say this. "She's a mousy freshman I could lay down in one second flat. So far, that is." Because the girl had serious potential, just no control as yet. "I need someone tougher. Someone who'd really give me a workout."
"Cindy, Perry..." he enumerated distractedly, then stopped, staring at his things as though wondering if he had everything he needed in there.
Claire sighed dejectedly. She couldn't believe she was about to insult her friends, but it had to be said. "You know they couldn't prep me properly." For one, they couldn't challenge her to her full potential. For another, they couldn't counter her. Uneven powers? Unfair results. And a brain freeze the size of a small country. "And I'm terrible," she added quickly, grimly.
Frowning, Warren slammed his locker closed and turned to her as he swung the battered bag over his shoulder. "You're fine, Claire," he grunted tiredly. "You just... need to relax."
"Not that easy," Claire huffed.
He stared at her a long moment, appearing to deliberate some delicate existential question as his piercing eyes studied her face. Then, he heaved a great sigh. "Lunch time, tomorrow, in the Focus classroom," he offered. "Take it or leave it."
"Great." Claire let out a tiny victorious squeal as Warren slumped against the lockers.
"Great."
"Thanks!"
"Bring your gym clothes."
Claire smiled. "See you later."
Later, Claire fully realised what she'd gotten herself into. Alone with Warren.
She screamed a little in her head.
#
She found him sitting cross-legged against the far gym wall as she entered, his eyes closed and head leaning back in repose. Had she taken that long? Claire checked her watch, frowning. Negative. Just five minutes past noon.
"Warren?" she called cautiously, the sound of her voice echoing gently through the gym like a whisper as she approached him.
"I wasn't sleeping." His eyes opened, bright and sharp as ever, and he climbed to his feet in one fluid motion, bringing their noses a hairsbreadth away from each other.
Claire took the step back, nearly tripping over her own feet. Klutz, she reprimanded herself. "Just resting your eyes?" she teased, hoping humour would ease the ever-present tension.
Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
"Going through some stuff," he replied tightly, "that's all."
"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she voiced aloud, wondering even as she did so why she said it. She needed to harness her power and he was the best guinea pig around.
If he'd been wearing sunglasses, Warren's look would have been aimed at her over the rims. A healthy blend of "get real" and "what the fuck", it was thoroughly nonplussed. "Are you saying I wasted my time here?" he asked out loud, incredulous.
Claire bit her lip. "Yes, no - I don't know." Sucking in a deep breath, she felt the air expand in her lungs, felt her heartbeat through her bloodstream. Thud, thud. "Look, I'm sorry. Let's do this." She dumped her bag next to his. "Do your worst."
A thin smile stretching his lips, Warren crossed his arms. "What did you have in mind?" he asked warily.
Claire shrugged, a careless Gallic roll of the shoulders. "Try to kill me, I guess."
"Bit extreme," he pointed out.
"Isn't that the point?"
A beat passed. "Fair point."
Warren's first shot brought her down to her knees, the breath knocked out of her. The second robbed her of any breath she might have tried to suck in. Gulping, gasping, tasting charcoal on her tongue, her eyes stinging and her limbs trembling from the twin impacts, Claire next found herself looking up into Warren's chocolate eyes. He was saying something, but she couldn't make out the words for the ringing in her ears and the dull pounding in her temples. Finally the wild fear in his eyes sank in and she gulped around the rank dryness in her throat.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," he kept repeating over and over, his hands cradling her cheeks.
"Warr..." she croaked, then swallowed again, and experimentally expanded her lungs. "I'm fine."
"God." He sat back as he watched her sit up on still-trembling hands. Then watched her some more. "I'm an asshole."
Claire coughed, waving his guilt away with her hand. "I asked for it. Whew." Bringing her hand to her face, her throat, she assessed any and all damage. "How do I look?" Any peeling skin? Boils? Cracked, icky stuff? God, she must look a mess.
Warren racked his throat. "Good. Fine." He averted his eyes as she tightened her ponytail.
"I wasn't ready," she rued, now cooling her flushed cheeks.
"Your core temperature save you, you know."
Claire looked at Warren looking at his hands. "I figured."
As though feeling her eyes on him, he glanced at her. He was about to say something when she beat him to the punch. "I asked for it, remember?"
"Doesn't make it okay."
"I'm making it," Claire shot back smugly before giving him a taste of his own medicine. Her shot caught him dead centre, knocking him down to the gym floor before she leapt over his chest, locking her legs to hold him fast. An arm over his windpipe as well to prevent his getting away, she stretched a hand over his chest, infusing him with blizzard-like cold.
As Warren's breath turned to puffy white clouds, Claire's triumphant smile turned to a grin. Holding the power to knock Warren Peace to his back was... exhilarating. Fantastic. Completely awesome.
It happened out of nowhere. One moment she was on top of him, experiencing how cool it was to freeze someone without fear for his health, the next she was n her back, Warren's solid arms encasing her, her legs still wrapped securely around him.
He came to the same realisation when she did. His eyes widened, the black pupils nearly swallowing the rich brown, and as she nervously released his hips and licked moisture back onto her fire-chapped lips, his eyes caught onto them and held, branding her.
Oh my God.
She would have been blind if she hadn't ever looked at him and not found him attractive. She wasn't classically handsome - too rugged - but God, those eyes. Warren didn't talk much, but with his eyes he could say just about anything. That fact. Mature yet boyish. He had the greatest smile. Which brought her to his lips, didn't it. Full, soft-looking, the kind that you could imagine tasting. And his body. She'd seen him in his swimming trunks. Solid, broad chest. Strong arms, strong legs. Solid legs. Trim hips. Hips that she'd just had pressed snug against her, held in the V of her thighs.
She'd have been blind.
And completely devoid of senses.
#
As Claire released him, Warren lifted himself slightly, just as speechless as she. But his eyes spoke volumes, even as he averted them, staring over her left ear at a stain on the gym floor.
Tension gripped her, robbing her of words, too. Normally they were somewhat talkative, maybe joked around, the two of them. Enjoyed each other's company. The whole polar opposites thing had gotten the ball rolling, sure, but polar opposites did not great companions make. Exhibit A: heroes and villains, enemies for life.
"Are you okay?" she finally asked, unable to recognise her own voice.
"Yeah." Even his voice was gorgeous. More so from up close. Deep. Rich. Husky.
In the silence that followed, Claire cleared her throat. "No, um, lasting effects?"
Warren exhaled a long breath, tickling her cheek. Claire watched the condensation evaporate between them. "Nice work," he complimented her quietly.
"Thanks. You had the element of surprise, though."
He glanced at her one moment, just a second really, but long enough to steal her breath. "So surprise me."
Claire stared up at him in something of a shock, wondering if he'd meant what she thought he had. Hard to tell. Hard to tell if he was messing around with her with one of their perpetual circling games or if he was daring her. Either way, both were tests, defense mechanisms to prevent them from getting too close. She knew the first well, but the second... did he want her to?
She couldn't read him. Never could.
So she reached up, fingers, digging into his bound hair, and pulled his head down to hers. And positively melted.
She'd always laughed at the way people talked about kisses. Magical. Right. Wonderful. Made the heart soar. A choir of angels singing. Silly, silly stuff. But as she kissed, as she tasted Warren, warmth spread through her like a carress and a sigh escaped her unbidden. So she sampled him again. And again. Small sips, small touches that he gently returned, and after a moment she wondered who was giver and who was taker.
Still they kissed, Claire's eyes sliding closed as she gave herself to the sensations while Warren's hands drifted over her, hurriedly discovering her body. His lips were soft, softer even than she'd imagined, as they captured hers for a deeper kiss. His tongue flicked against her bottom lip, silently asking admission, and she shivered as she let him in. Drawing him closer, Claire wrapped her legs neatly around him again, cradling him where he'd lain before, and felt his heat transfer into her there, too.
She purred. She couldn't help it.
Not when he rolled them over, burying his hands in her hair, freeing it of her ponytail. Not either when he allowed her to lick his pulse point and hear his panted breaths against her ear. And definitely not when he palmed her ass and thrust once against her, showing her how aroused he was.
Claire pulled away fast, panting hard. Stared down at Warren's hooded eyes. And couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"What's wrong?" His voice was deeper, sexier. He still held her loosely, though his hands had moved up to her wais under her shirt.
"I..." Claire swallowed, still tasting him on her tongue. "I don't know. You... wow."
Warren chuckled in one short burst. "Translation, please?"
"Do you like me?"
He gave her that serious over-the-glasses look again. Hello, erection?
And she felt stupid for even asking. "Wow." Talk about newsflash, though.
Searching her eyes, he brushed her hair away. Gentle hand. Gentle hand that could do much harm. "Should I say I'm sorry?"
"No. Um..." Uncharacteristic - at least when he wasn't around - heat flooded her face. "No." She bit her lip. "I think I should. For, you know, letting things... progress. This far."
Warren didn't reply immediately. He got the message, though, and slowly retreated, sitting back on his haunches as she rearranged herself.
"What are you saying?" he asked quietly.
Claire cried out her frustration. "I don't know!"
Glancing at their things on the side, Warren stood but didn't walk away immediately. Claire looked up, sensing he wanted to say something. "For the record," he said, "you weren't alone here." He began backing away, still holding her haunted gaze. "See you later, then."
#
There was something wrong with her. She followed him outside to the table he preferred under the shade, wary of any onlookers. Sat down next to him. Took out the sandwich she'd mad that morning. Bit into it.
"Did you want to talk?" he asked dryly, without looking up from his novel of the moment.
Claire steeled herself, swallowed her bite, and turned sideways on the bench to face him. "I like you," she admitted quietly, wishing they were anywhere but here, wishing they were back in the gym. No, somewhere... more private. "It's just difficult to process. That, you know, you like me. That I did the things I did in there." She brushed a stray strand of hair away, feeling the hot flush crawl up her face again. "You know, it was okay when we were just... circling, avoiding each other. I could be your platonic friend."
"Platonic means there's nothing," Warren pointed out, still staring straight ahead at nothing at all. But this was good. She had his attention.
"You're right," she admitted. They'd never been platonic, had they. And they'd both known it.
His eyes blazed as he turned to her. "I'm fucking right," he growled. "What are you afraid of?"
"Excuse me?"
He rolled his eyes. "You heard me. Is it me? Are you afraid I'd shatter your shining reputation?"
Claire scoffed derisively. "I'm hardly popular."
"Right, Miss Frost," he laughed darkly. "Right."
Claire frowned at him. "Fuck you. I'm not scared of that," she said, encompassing the people lounging in the sun around the school grounds.
"Then what," he asked, humouring her, turning back to his lunch.
For a moment, Claire debated throwing her sandwich at him and forgetting she'd ever come to close to letting Warren Peace get under her skin. But then, she knew him, didn't she. Knew all of his defense mechanisms, including this one, the fuck-off attitude. "Maybe," she began qietly, so only he could hear if he strained, which she knew he was because he was sitting so still, "I'm scared of myself."
She knew he'd heard because he remained still even after she collected her barely-touched things and walked away.
Ten minutes to the bell. She wasn't hungry, so she went back in and dumped her lunch into her locked uneaten.
#
"I'm hearing a bathroom rumour that you and Hothead were arguing pretty heavily at lunch," Cindy announced by way of greeting as she sat on the high lab chair next to Claire. "Care to elaborate?"
"None of your business."
"Hmm," her friend mused, "sounds like a grudge to me."
"Sure."
"Tell you what. I also hear you were seen exiting the gym, which, might I add, was quite empty otherwise, after he'd marched out himself. Whatever were you doing alone with him in there?" Sarcasm dripped out of Cindy's words.
"Practising."
"Practising what? The horizontal dance? No, wait, kinkier. Vertical against the wall. Dayum, atta girl!"
Claire's eyes widened. "I so know that's not you talking. Who said that?"
Cindy leaned her elbows on the lab desk they shared. "Not counting the Penny multiplets, oh, about twenty girls. Though to be honest I didn't stay to listen but they were in the caf so it's a given they heard it from somebody else who actually saw you." She stared pitifully at her painted black nails. "I am however offended that you think I've never watched porn."
Claire chose to ignore the last part. "Holy crap. Does everyone know?"
Cindy shrugged. "Sophomores? Probably. Beyond our grade, hard to tell. Freshmen? Doubt it, but who knows. Those little rugrats are something else."
Claire laughed. She had to, because the alternative was melting into the floor and... she couldn't. Maybe she could ask Perry for a DNA sample and try to alter her own, or fall into a vat of toxic chemicals and hope for the best.
"So is it true?"
She saw Warren entering the room at the same moment, and her heart leapt like a freaking Duracell bunny on crack. His gaze swept the room, found hers, then bounced off as he veered toward the back of the lab.
"I asked him to coach me for Save the Citizen," Claire told her friend distractedly. "I suck at it and he, eh... he helped."
Cindy followed her gaze, cocking an unimpressed brow "... and that's why he's now avoiding you."
Her friend's sarcasm wasn't lost on Claire. She turned to the front resolutely as Prof Medulla arrived.
Still, Cindy leaned in as Medulla immediately launched into a fantastical speech about the proprieties of top secret, absolutely "legally" acquired extraterrestrial rocks that he meant for them to study under all their angles. "I do know you, Frost. You do have integrity."
No, it seemed she didn't, because she wished she hadn't pulled away.
#
"Claire!"
The voice arrested her, had her whirling on her feet until she faced him. "I'm going to be late," she said, gesturing to the yellow buses filling up with students.
"I'll give you a ride." On his bike. Which was just way too close for comfort right now. "We need to talk."
"Sorry..." she tried to insist. "I've got to go."
She started to turn, but his hand latched onto her wrist. "Claire. We need to talk," he repeated, infusing enough urgency in his words that she nearly gave in.
But, come on. How much more embarrassment could she withstand in one day?
"Let me go," she said quietly, and she watched his eyes shutter and his grip loosen around her. Biting her cheek - God, what a mess - she held his hand at thee last moment, when he was just about to release her, and she made sure he was looking at her when she spoke. "Tomorrow," she said meaningfully.
He nodded, and she let him go, trying not to look back but failing as she ran for the wairing buses. Just in time, too.
She watched him watching the line of buses take off, leaning against his bike thoughtfully.
#
As Claire walked into Hero History the next day, she felt the breath knocked out of her though it had been erratic all morning. She'd dreaded seeing Warren today. Well now she saw him.
What are you afraid of?
Maybe I'm afraid of myself.
And there was her seat. Next to him. He looked up, their gazes locking. She couldn't read him, but her rib cage felt too tight suddenly.
She shouldn't have told him anything. She shouldn't have made a completely of herself yesterday.
But she had to appear strong, now, didn't she? "Hi," she greeted him airily as she sat next to him, busying herslef with readying her things for class. She fiddled with her pen.
"Hey." A pause. "Listen, about -"
Claire snapped up straight.
"When did you want..." he began, dragging the word out meaningfully.
Claire flushed, feeling the press of stares though she was fairly sure she was imagining things. "Not now."
His eyes searched hers a moment. "I don't think lunch would be..."
Claire grew rigid at the thought of the impending lunch period. "No." Please, not so soon.
"I'm working tonight." He paused again, as though expecting her to say something. When she didn't, when she remained silent, he lowered his voice, seemingly for her ears alone. "Meet me after school in the parking lot," he murmured, quietly insistent. "Please."
It rolled over her, his request, leaving her completely, completely weak. Meeting his eye furtively from the corner of her eye, she began mentally listing all the reasons why she shouldn't even consider going anywhere with him alone. Again.
#
Lunch was a tedious affair, consisting of being poor company to her friends who didn't seem to mind the lack of attention as they were arguing the very controversial death of Wildcard in the 80's, and also failing to ignore Warren sitting in the sun on the other side of the parking lot, reading a novel. His unbound hair hid his face but she caught the look of concentration upon it once as he flipped a page of his dog-eared copy before his hair effectively shuttered him again.
She pulled herself back into the here and now with her friends, occasionally dipping into the conversation to offer her input, though her mind continued to actively churn about the decision she still had to make - even though she kind of had a feeling she wouldn't have a choice in the end. She'd go to him this afternoon despite the fact that that was the dead last thing she ought to do if she didn't want to end up alone with him again. Which went to show the mind was a backstabbing entity, didn't it.
What are you afraid of?
She tried, she really tried to ignore him, to look away. It wasn't like he was doing anything special anyway. He was just reading, mind his own business while she, hanging out with her friends beneath a tree, couldn't even properly hand out with them.
"Are you, like, waiting for a signal from him to zip somewhere nice and quiet?" Cindy suddenly asked, making Claire jump out of her skin.
Whipping around, Claire blinked. "What?"
Cindy snickered. "You've been staring at him since we came out here."
"That is so not true."
Cindy's brow disappeared into her hairline, calling her lie. But then she looked beyond Claire, the brow disappearing again in interest. "Uh oh, trouble in paradise."
Claire looked. A redhead had plunked herself next to Warren, grabbing hold of his hand and talking her head off at him. Claire recognised her as a girl who had begun to hang around Warren out of nowhere.
But then she saw All-American Kid striding past, saw the girl's strained smile, and Warren's patient annoyance. Then the moment passed, and Claire saw him power up and jolt the girl then move off. Seeing Claire, his lips drew into a thin-lipped line and he turned his back to her, heading inside.
"False alarm," Perry commented.
Warren's bike, with its sleek black body and gleaming engine, commanded her attention now, and it became an almost-certainty in Claire's mind that she was going to disappoint something inside of her that had grown tinier since yesterday. Her resolve, she was pretty sure.
#
His hair was bound when she exited the huge double doors that afternoon, bookbag hugged protectively over her middle. Leaning against his bike, he looked thoughtful, a little vulnerable, arms crossed and staring at the ground as though he didn't want to look elsewhere.
He doesn't think I'll come, Claire thought, ambling slowly down the stairs as everyone rushed down them to the yellow schoolbuses. Heartbeat echoing through her throat, Claire had to take deep breaths as she talked herself into not bailing. Don't be a coward. You promised him you'd talk today.
It was still scary as hell.
"Hey," she called as she approached.
She watched him lift his head and straighten away from his bike a bit too suddenly. The thing wobbled at the transfer of weight, but Warren didn't pay it mind. "Hey," he replied. "You came."
"Yeah..." As awkwardness went, this was the real deal. "I promised." The din from the bus line grew louder as they geared for take off, and Claire had the fleeting thought that by tomorrow they'd be the talk of many again. Others with cars or scooters nearby gave them the once-over before taking off, too.
They were alone at last. Claire hugged her bookbag closer to her chest. Protection? Comfort? She didn't know. She was making it difficult on them both, she knew it, but she couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her legs felt like lead and her mouth like cotton. Filled with sand.
"Here," Warren said suddenly, jolting her out of her self-imposed misery, handing her a helmet. The only helmet.
"What about you?" she asked dumbly.
Her sent her a concocted self-important smile. "I'm a superhero."
"So am I," Claire pointed out.
Warren's long look spoke volumes, but he spoke anyway. "Let me do this for you," he said quietly, almost shyly.
Claire swallowed around her dry mouth, tearing her eyes away from his to clumsily slip the big helmet on over her head. It fit, but felt clunky on her.
"Good." Warren swung a leg over his bike, straddling it like he belonged there. She supposed he did. He looked at ease, in control, even though the thing wasn't running yet. "Come on."
Claire climbed on behind him, fumbling with comfort for a moment. The seat was more rigid than she'd imagined, didn't mould her body very well. She could hardly understand why people loved motorcycles so much, but then she imagined you eventually got used to the discomfort. Kind of like riding a regular bicycle.
"You need to hold me, Claire," Warren shot over his shoulder.
Yep, she'd already figured that out for herself. Watching movies taught you all kinds of things, including how to ride shotgun on a bike. Even so, knowing wasn't the same as doing. Claire carefully scooted against him. Without a motor running, she felt his every breath against her breasts, yet insidiously she thought I'm not close enough.
"Closer," he murmured, and she knew he was only talking about safety, but his body warmed and she also knew he was fighting himself.
Claire scooted into him, glueing her thighs against his, and tightened her hold around him. Thoughts of him snug against her flitted through her mind. She squashed those.
Firing the engine, he kicked back the stand and looked back. "Hold tight."
Nodding, Claire could only do as he told as he rolled forward, first slowly and then, as she adjusted to the feeling, at a normal speed. The roar, the rumble beneath her, the feeling of controlled freedom were a thrill. Claire smiled, then laughed, the bubbly feeling a liberation from the awkwardness she'd been locked into for two days.
"You ready?" Warren shouted over the roar of the engine, and she abruptly remembered they were rolling on a gigantic floating platform.
Remembering an earlier episode when he'd told her he'd flown into a telephone pole, Claire shouted back her concern. "You sure you know how to fly this thing?"
Shooting her a brilliant grin over his shoulder, Warren shrugged nonchalantly. "You'll see!"
That did not reassure her.
#
He didn't crahs into anything, but the landing was far from smooth. Still, exhilaration won over freaking out and by the time Warren pulled to a stop in the abandone backstreet, Claire was giddy with excitement.
"This is amazing! God, it's like flying on a plane, only better. With the wind in your face. And just... nothingness..." She beamed up at Warren who'd already dismounted and was grinning at her. "It's... amazing," she sighed happily.
Laughing, Warren reached out, removing the helmet for her carefully, and sat astride the bike again, facing her. Claire felt the mood shift slightly as he seemed engrossed in rubbing a stain on the visor, searching for his words. She waited.
He glanced up after a moment, searching her eyes, the laughter gone from his. "What you said yesterday," he began tentatively.
"I said a lot of things yesterday," Claire replied, thinking way more than I ever have, to anyone.
His eyes held hers. "You know what I mean," he pressed on.
Maybe I'm scared of myself. Claire bit her lip, knowing it wouldn't be right to lie to him when he was being so open. "Yeah. I think..." Feeling too exposed under his frank gaze, she looked away. "I think I like you a lot more than I thought and it scares the crap out of me."
There. It was out. She looked back at Warren, wondering what he was thinking, half-afraid she'd be disappointed when she saw... pity in his eyes. But no. She couldn't read him, but she was pretty sure he would have bolted if she'd freaked him out beyond repair.
After a beat, he twisted his body and hooked the helmet to the handles, then turned back to her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Say something," Claire pleaded.
He didn't say anything. Warren was a guy of few words and she was used to that, but when he pressed his mouth against hers, she lost herself to the warm velvet of his lips, scooting closer into him.
"This is nice," she sighed when he pulled back.
Warren smiled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I thought you said amazing," he teased, tapping her nose playfully.
Nudging him, Claire pulled her tongue out at him, then welcomed his furtive kiss, which deepened as he cradled her face in his heated hands. She felt them like a caress. "This is nicer," she murmured breathlessly when his heavy breath fanned her face again.
"Tell me you want more Save the Citizen lessons," he demanded against her neck, causing her to shudder at the frank need in his voice.
Her eyes closed of their own volition as he sampled the delicate skin there. "Yes..."
"Not at school," he decided, mirroring her scrambled thoughts.
"No..."
"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she voiced aloud, wondering even as she did so why she said it. She needed to harness her power and he was the best guinea pig around.
FEAR IN HER EYES
"I need your help."
"Looking over his outstretched arm, Warren quirked a brow and silently pulled out the textbook he'd been reaching for. "What for?" he asked, stuffing it into his ratty shoulder bag.
Claire bit her lip. "Save the Citizen," she answered quietly, leery of the other students milling about and paying her no mind, but who knew.
"So practise with your Focus partner," he grunted matter-of-factly.
Claire sighed. Somehow she'd known he'd say this. "She's a mousy freshman I could lay down in one second flat. So far, that is." Because the girl had serious potential, just no control as yet. "I need someone tougher. Someone who'd really give me a workout."
"Cindy, Perry..." he enumerated distractedly, then stopped, staring at his things as though wondering if he had everything he needed in there.
Claire sighed dejectedly. She couldn't believe she was about to insult her friends, but it had to be said. "You know they couldn't prep me properly." For one, they couldn't challenge her to her full potential. For another, they couldn't counter her. Uneven powers? Unfair results. And a brain freeze the size of a small country. "And I'm terrible," she added quickly, grimly.
Frowning, Warren slammed his locker closed and turned to her as he swung the battered bag over his shoulder. "You're fine, Claire," he grunted tiredly. "You just... need to relax."
"Not that easy," Claire huffed.
He stared at her a long moment, appearing to deliberate some delicate existential question as his piercing eyes studied her face. Then, he heaved a great sigh. "Lunch time, tomorrow, in the Focus classroom," he offered. "Take it or leave it."
"Great." Claire let out a tiny victorious squeal as Warren slumped against the lockers.
"Great."
"Thanks!"
"Bring your gym clothes."
Claire smiled. "See you later."
Later, Claire fully realised what she'd gotten herself into. Alone with Warren.
She screamed a little in her head.
#
She found him sitting cross-legged against the far gym wall as she entered, his eyes closed and head leaning back in repose. Had she taken that long? Claire checked her watch, frowning. Negative. Just five minutes past noon.
"Warren?" she called cautiously, the sound of her voice echoing gently through the gym like a whisper as she approached him.
"I wasn't sleeping." His eyes opened, bright and sharp as ever, and he climbed to his feet in one fluid motion, bringing their noses a hairsbreadth away from each other.
Claire took the step back, nearly tripping over her own feet. Klutz, she reprimanded herself. "Just resting your eyes?" she teased, hoping humour would ease the ever-present tension.
Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
"Going through some stuff," he replied tightly, "that's all."
"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she voiced aloud, wondering even as she did so why she said it. She needed to harness her power and he was the best guinea pig around.
If he'd been wearing sunglasses, Warren's look would have been aimed at her over the rims. A healthy blend of "get real" and "what the fuck", it was thoroughly nonplussed. "Are you saying I wasted my time here?" he asked out loud, incredulous.
Claire bit her lip. "Yes, no - I don't know." Sucking in a deep breath, she felt the air expand in her lungs, felt her heartbeat through her bloodstream. Thud, thud. "Look, I'm sorry. Let's do this." She dumped her bag next to his. "Do your worst."
A thin smile stretching his lips, Warren crossed his arms. "What did you have in mind?" he asked warily.
Claire shrugged, a careless Gallic roll of the shoulders. "Try to kill me, I guess."
"Bit extreme," he pointed out.
"Isn't that the point?"
A beat passed. "Fair point."
Warren's first shot brought her down to her knees, the breath knocked out of her. The second robbed her of any breath she might have tried to suck in. Gulping, gasping, tasting charcoal on her tongue, her eyes stinging and her limbs trembling from the twin impacts, Claire next found herself looking up into Warren's chocolate eyes. He was saying something, but she couldn't make out the words for the ringing in her ears and the dull pounding in her temples. Finally the wild fear in his eyes sank in and she gulped around the rank dryness in her throat.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," he kept repeating over and over, his hands cradling her cheeks.
"Warr..." she croaked, then swallowed again, and experimentally expanded her lungs. "I'm fine."
"God." He sat back as he watched her sit up on still-trembling hands. Then watched her some more. "I'm an asshole."
Claire coughed, waving his guilt away with her hand. "I asked for it. Whew." Bringing her hand to her face, her throat, she assessed any and all damage. "How do I look?" Any peeling skin? Boils? Cracked, icky stuff? God, she must look a mess.
Warren racked his throat. "Good. Fine." He averted his eyes as she tightened her ponytail.
"I wasn't ready," she rued, now cooling her flushed cheeks.
"Your core temperature save you, you know."
Claire looked at Warren looking at his hands. "I figured."
As though feeling her eyes on him, he glanced at her. He was about to say something when she beat him to the punch. "I asked for it, remember?"
"Doesn't make it okay."
"I'm making it," Claire shot back smugly before giving him a taste of his own medicine. Her shot caught him dead centre, knocking him down to the gym floor before she leapt over his chest, locking her legs to hold him fast. An arm over his windpipe as well to prevent his getting away, she stretched a hand over his chest, infusing him with blizzard-like cold.
As Warren's breath turned to puffy white clouds, Claire's triumphant smile turned to a grin. Holding the power to knock Warren Peace to his back was... exhilarating. Fantastic. Completely awesome.
It happened out of nowhere. One moment she was on top of him, experiencing how cool it was to freeze someone without fear for his health, the next she was n her back, Warren's solid arms encasing her, her legs still wrapped securely around him.
He came to the same realisation when she did. His eyes widened, the black pupils nearly swallowing the rich brown, and as she nervously released his hips and licked moisture back onto her fire-chapped lips, his eyes caught onto them and held, branding her.
Oh my God.
She would have been blind if she hadn't ever looked at him and not found him attractive. She wasn't classically handsome - too rugged - but God, those eyes. Warren didn't talk much, but with his eyes he could say just about anything. That fact. Mature yet boyish. He had the greatest smile. Which brought her to his lips, didn't it. Full, soft-looking, the kind that you could imagine tasting. And his body. She'd seen him in his swimming trunks. Solid, broad chest. Strong arms, strong legs. Solid legs. Trim hips. Hips that she'd just had pressed snug against her, held in the V of her thighs.
She'd have been blind.
And completely devoid of senses.
#
As Claire released him, Warren lifted himself slightly, just as speechless as she. But his eyes spoke volumes, even as he averted them, staring over her left ear at a stain on the gym floor.
Tension gripped her, robbing her of words, too. Normally they were somewhat talkative, maybe joked around, the two of them. Enjoyed each other's company. The whole polar opposites thing had gotten the ball rolling, sure, but polar opposites did not great companions make. Exhibit A: heroes and villains, enemies for life.
"Are you okay?" she finally asked, unable to recognise her own voice.
"Yeah." Even his voice was gorgeous. More so from up close. Deep. Rich. Husky.
In the silence that followed, Claire cleared her throat. "No, um, lasting effects?"
Warren exhaled a long breath, tickling her cheek. Claire watched the condensation evaporate between them. "Nice work," he complimented her quietly.
"Thanks. You had the element of surprise, though."
He glanced at her one moment, just a second really, but long enough to steal her breath. "So surprise me."
Claire stared up at him in something of a shock, wondering if he'd meant what she thought he had. Hard to tell. Hard to tell if he was messing around with her with one of their perpetual circling games or if he was daring her. Either way, both were tests, defense mechanisms to prevent them from getting too close. She knew the first well, but the second... did he want her to?
She couldn't read him. Never could.
So she reached up, fingers, digging into his bound hair, and pulled his head down to hers. And positively melted.
She'd always laughed at the way people talked about kisses. Magical. Right. Wonderful. Made the heart soar. A choir of angels singing. Silly, silly stuff. But as she kissed, as she tasted Warren, warmth spread through her like a carress and a sigh escaped her unbidden. So she sampled him again. And again. Small sips, small touches that he gently returned, and after a moment she wondered who was giver and who was taker.
Still they kissed, Claire's eyes sliding closed as she gave herself to the sensations while Warren's hands drifted over her, hurriedly discovering her body. His lips were soft, softer even than she'd imagined, as they captured hers for a deeper kiss. His tongue flicked against her bottom lip, silently asking admission, and she shivered as she let him in. Drawing him closer, Claire wrapped her legs neatly around him again, cradling him where he'd lain before, and felt his heat transfer into her there, too.
She purred. She couldn't help it.
Not when he rolled them over, burying his hands in her hair, freeing it of her ponytail. Not either when he allowed her to lick his pulse point and hear his panted breaths against her ear. And definitely not when he palmed her ass and thrust once against her, showing her how aroused he was.
Claire pulled away fast, panting hard. Stared down at Warren's hooded eyes. And couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"What's wrong?" His voice was deeper, sexier. He still held her loosely, though his hands had moved up to her wais under her shirt.
"I..." Claire swallowed, still tasting him on her tongue. "I don't know. You... wow."
Warren chuckled in one short burst. "Translation, please?"
"Do you like me?"
He gave her that serious over-the-glasses look again. Hello, erection?
And she felt stupid for even asking. "Wow." Talk about newsflash, though.
Searching her eyes, he brushed her hair away. Gentle hand. Gentle hand that could do much harm. "Should I say I'm sorry?"
"No. Um..." Uncharacteristic - at least when he wasn't around - heat flooded her face. "No." She bit her lip. "I think I should. For, you know, letting things... progress. This far."
Warren didn't reply immediately. He got the message, though, and slowly retreated, sitting back on his haunches as she rearranged herself.
"What are you saying?" he asked quietly.
Claire cried out her frustration. "I don't know!"
Glancing at their things on the side, Warren stood but didn't walk away immediately. Claire looked up, sensing he wanted to say something. "For the record," he said, "you weren't alone here." He began backing away, still holding her haunted gaze. "See you later, then."
#
There was something wrong with her. She followed him outside to the table he preferred under the shade, wary of any onlookers. Sat down next to him. Took out the sandwich she'd mad that morning. Bit into it.
"Did you want to talk?" he asked dryly, without looking up from his novel of the moment.
Claire steeled herself, swallowed her bite, and turned sideways on the bench to face him. "I like you," she admitted quietly, wishing they were anywhere but here, wishing they were back in the gym. No, somewhere... more private. "It's just difficult to process. That, you know, you like me. That I did the things I did in there." She brushed a stray strand of hair away, feeling the hot flush crawl up her face again. "You know, it was okay when we were just... circling, avoiding each other. I could be your platonic friend."
"Platonic means there's nothing," Warren pointed out, still staring straight ahead at nothing at all. But this was good. She had his attention.
"You're right," she admitted. They'd never been platonic, had they. And they'd both known it.
His eyes blazed as he turned to her. "I'm fucking right," he growled. "What are you afraid of?"
"Excuse me?"
He rolled his eyes. "You heard me. Is it me? Are you afraid I'd shatter your shining reputation?"
Claire scoffed derisively. "I'm hardly popular."
"Right, Miss Frost," he laughed darkly. "Right."
Claire frowned at him. "Fuck you. I'm not scared of that," she said, encompassing the people lounging in the sun around the school grounds.
"Then what," he asked, humouring her, turning back to his lunch.
For a moment, Claire debated throwing her sandwich at him and forgetting she'd ever come to close to letting Warren Peace get under her skin. But then, she knew him, didn't she. Knew all of his defense mechanisms, including this one, the fuck-off attitude. "Maybe," she began qietly, so only he could hear if he strained, which she knew he was because he was sitting so still, "I'm scared of myself."
She knew he'd heard because he remained still even after she collected her barely-touched things and walked away.
Ten minutes to the bell. She wasn't hungry, so she went back in and dumped her lunch into her locked uneaten.
#
"I'm hearing a bathroom rumour that you and Hothead were arguing pretty heavily at lunch," Cindy announced by way of greeting as she sat on the high lab chair next to Claire. "Care to elaborate?"
"None of your business."
"Hmm," her friend mused, "sounds like a grudge to me."
"Sure."
"Tell you what. I also hear you were seen exiting the gym, which, might I add, was quite empty otherwise, after he'd marched out himself. Whatever were you doing alone with him in there?" Sarcasm dripped out of Cindy's words.
"Practising."
"Practising what? The horizontal dance? No, wait, kinkier. Vertical against the wall. Dayum, atta girl!"
Claire's eyes widened. "I so know that's not you talking. Who said that?"
Cindy leaned her elbows on the lab desk they shared. "Not counting the Penny multiplets, oh, about twenty girls. Though to be honest I didn't stay to listen but they were in the caf so it's a given they heard it from somebody else who actually saw you." She stared pitifully at her painted black nails. "I am however offended that you think I've never watched porn."
Claire chose to ignore the last part. "Holy crap. Does everyone know?"
Cindy shrugged. "Sophomores? Probably. Beyond our grade, hard to tell. Freshmen? Doubt it, but who knows. Those little rugrats are something else."
Claire laughed. She had to, because the alternative was melting into the floor and... she couldn't. Maybe she could ask Perry for a DNA sample and try to alter her own, or fall into a vat of toxic chemicals and hope for the best.
"So is it true?"
She saw Warren entering the room at the same moment, and her heart leapt like a freaking Duracell bunny on crack. His gaze swept the room, found hers, then bounced off as he veered toward the back of the lab.
"I asked him to coach me for Save the Citizen," Claire told her friend distractedly. "I suck at it and he, eh... he helped."
Cindy followed her gaze, cocking an unimpressed brow "... and that's why he's now avoiding you."
Her friend's sarcasm wasn't lost on Claire. She turned to the front resolutely as Prof Medulla arrived.
Still, Cindy leaned in as Medulla immediately launched into a fantastical speech about the proprieties of top secret, absolutely "legally" acquired extraterrestrial rocks that he meant for them to study under all their angles. "I do know you, Frost. You do have integrity."
No, it seemed she didn't, because she wished she hadn't pulled away.
#
"Claire!"
The voice arrested her, had her whirling on her feet until she faced him. "I'm going to be late," she said, gesturing to the yellow buses filling up with students.
"I'll give you a ride." On his bike. Which was just way too close for comfort right now. "We need to talk."
"Sorry..." she tried to insist. "I've got to go."
She started to turn, but his hand latched onto her wrist. "Claire. We need to talk," he repeated, infusing enough urgency in his words that she nearly gave in.
But, come on. How much more embarrassment could she withstand in one day?
"Let me go," she said quietly, and she watched his eyes shutter and his grip loosen around her. Biting her cheek - God, what a mess - she held his hand at thee last moment, when he was just about to release her, and she made sure he was looking at her when she spoke. "Tomorrow," she said meaningfully.
He nodded, and she let him go, trying not to look back but failing as she ran for the wairing buses. Just in time, too.
She watched him watching the line of buses take off, leaning against his bike thoughtfully.
#
As Claire walked into Hero History the next day, she felt the breath knocked out of her though it had been erratic all morning. She'd dreaded seeing Warren today. Well now she saw him.
What are you afraid of?
Maybe I'm afraid of myself.
And there was her seat. Next to him. He looked up, their gazes locking. She couldn't read him, but her rib cage felt too tight suddenly.
She shouldn't have told him anything. She shouldn't have made a completely of herself yesterday.
But she had to appear strong, now, didn't she? "Hi," she greeted him airily as she sat next to him, busying herslef with readying her things for class. She fiddled with her pen.
"Hey." A pause. "Listen, about -"
Claire snapped up straight.
"When did you want..." he began, dragging the word out meaningfully.
Claire flushed, feeling the press of stares though she was fairly sure she was imagining things. "Not now."
His eyes searched hers a moment. "I don't think lunch would be..."
Claire grew rigid at the thought of the impending lunch period. "No." Please, not so soon.
"I'm working tonight." He paused again, as though expecting her to say something. When she didn't, when she remained silent, he lowered his voice, seemingly for her ears alone. "Meet me after school in the parking lot," he murmured, quietly insistent. "Please."
It rolled over her, his request, leaving her completely, completely weak. Meeting his eye furtively from the corner of her eye, she began mentally listing all the reasons why she shouldn't even consider going anywhere with him alone. Again.
#
Lunch was a tedious affair, consisting of being poor company to her friends who didn't seem to mind the lack of attention as they were arguing the very controversial death of Wildcard in the 80's, and also failing to ignore Warren sitting in the sun on the other side of the parking lot, reading a novel. His unbound hair hid his face but she caught the look of concentration upon it once as he flipped a page of his dog-eared copy before his hair effectively shuttered him again.
She pulled herself back into the here and now with her friends, occasionally dipping into the conversation to offer her input, though her mind continued to actively churn about the decision she still had to make - even though she kind of had a feeling she wouldn't have a choice in the end. She'd go to him this afternoon despite the fact that that was the dead last thing she ought to do if she didn't want to end up alone with him again. Which went to show the mind was a backstabbing entity, didn't it.
What are you afraid of?
She tried, she really tried to ignore him, to look away. It wasn't like he was doing anything special anyway. He was just reading, mind his own business while she, hanging out with her friends beneath a tree, couldn't even properly hand out with them.
"Are you, like, waiting for a signal from him to zip somewhere nice and quiet?" Cindy suddenly asked, making Claire jump out of her skin.
Whipping around, Claire blinked. "What?"
Cindy snickered. "You've been staring at him since we came out here."
"That is so not true."
Cindy's brow disappeared into her hairline, calling her lie. But then she looked beyond Claire, the brow disappearing again in interest. "Uh oh, trouble in paradise."
Claire looked. A redhead had plunked herself next to Warren, grabbing hold of his hand and talking her head off at him. Claire recognised her as a girl who had begun to hang around Warren out of nowhere.
But then she saw All-American Kid striding past, saw the girl's strained smile, and Warren's patient annoyance. Then the moment passed, and Claire saw him power up and jolt the girl then move off. Seeing Claire, his lips drew into a thin-lipped line and he turned his back to her, heading inside.
"False alarm," Perry commented.
Warren's bike, with its sleek black body and gleaming engine, commanded her attention now, and it became an almost-certainty in Claire's mind that she was going to disappoint something inside of her that had grown tinier since yesterday. Her resolve, she was pretty sure.
#
His hair was bound when she exited the huge double doors that afternoon, bookbag hugged protectively over her middle. Leaning against his bike, he looked thoughtful, a little vulnerable, arms crossed and staring at the ground as though he didn't want to look elsewhere.
He doesn't think I'll come, Claire thought, ambling slowly down the stairs as everyone rushed down them to the yellow schoolbuses. Heartbeat echoing through her throat, Claire had to take deep breaths as she talked herself into not bailing. Don't be a coward. You promised him you'd talk today.
It was still scary as hell.
"Hey," she called as she approached.
She watched him lift his head and straighten away from his bike a bit too suddenly. The thing wobbled at the transfer of weight, but Warren didn't pay it mind. "Hey," he replied. "You came."
"Yeah..." As awkwardness went, this was the real deal. "I promised." The din from the bus line grew louder as they geared for take off, and Claire had the fleeting thought that by tomorrow they'd be the talk of many again. Others with cars or scooters nearby gave them the once-over before taking off, too.
They were alone at last. Claire hugged her bookbag closer to her chest. Protection? Comfort? She didn't know. She was making it difficult on them both, she knew it, but she couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her legs felt like lead and her mouth like cotton. Filled with sand.
"Here," Warren said suddenly, jolting her out of her self-imposed misery, handing her a helmet. The only helmet.
"What about you?" she asked dumbly.
Her sent her a concocted self-important smile. "I'm a superhero."
"So am I," Claire pointed out.
Warren's long look spoke volumes, but he spoke anyway. "Let me do this for you," he said quietly, almost shyly.
Claire swallowed around her dry mouth, tearing her eyes away from his to clumsily slip the big helmet on over her head. It fit, but felt clunky on her.
"Good." Warren swung a leg over his bike, straddling it like he belonged there. She supposed he did. He looked at ease, in control, even though the thing wasn't running yet. "Come on."
Claire climbed on behind him, fumbling with comfort for a moment. The seat was more rigid than she'd imagined, didn't mould her body very well. She could hardly understand why people loved motorcycles so much, but then she imagined you eventually got used to the discomfort. Kind of like riding a regular bicycle.
"You need to hold me, Claire," Warren shot over his shoulder.
Yep, she'd already figured that out for herself. Watching movies taught you all kinds of things, including how to ride shotgun on a bike. Even so, knowing wasn't the same as doing. Claire carefully scooted against him. Without a motor running, she felt his every breath against her breasts, yet insidiously she thought I'm not close enough.
"Closer," he murmured, and she knew he was only talking about safety, but his body warmed and she also knew he was fighting himself.
Claire scooted into him, glueing her thighs against his, and tightened her hold around him. Thoughts of him snug against her flitted through her mind. She squashed those.
Firing the engine, he kicked back the stand and looked back. "Hold tight."
Nodding, Claire could only do as he told as he rolled forward, first slowly and then, as she adjusted to the feeling, at a normal speed. The roar, the rumble beneath her, the feeling of controlled freedom were a thrill. Claire smiled, then laughed, the bubbly feeling a liberation from the awkwardness she'd been locked into for two days.
"You ready?" Warren shouted over the roar of the engine, and she abruptly remembered they were rolling on a gigantic floating platform.
Remembering an earlier episode when he'd told her he'd flown into a telephone pole, Claire shouted back her concern. "You sure you know how to fly this thing?"
Shooting her a brilliant grin over his shoulder, Warren shrugged nonchalantly. "You'll see!"
That did not reassure her.
#
He didn't crahs into anything, but the landing was far from smooth. Still, exhilaration won over freaking out and by the time Warren pulled to a stop in the abandone backstreet, Claire was giddy with excitement.
"This is amazing! God, it's like flying on a plane, only better. With the wind in your face. And just... nothingness..." She beamed up at Warren who'd already dismounted and was grinning at her. "It's... amazing," she sighed happily.
Laughing, Warren reached out, removing the helmet for her carefully, and sat astride the bike again, facing her. Claire felt the mood shift slightly as he seemed engrossed in rubbing a stain on the visor, searching for his words. She waited.
He glanced up after a moment, searching her eyes, the laughter gone from his. "What you said yesterday," he began tentatively.
"I said a lot of things yesterday," Claire replied, thinking way more than I ever have, to anyone.
His eyes held hers. "You know what I mean," he pressed on.
Maybe I'm scared of myself. Claire bit her lip, knowing it wouldn't be right to lie to him when he was being so open. "Yeah. I think..." Feeling too exposed under his frank gaze, she looked away. "I think I like you a lot more than I thought and it scares the crap out of me."
There. It was out. She looked back at Warren, wondering what he was thinking, half-afraid she'd be disappointed when she saw... pity in his eyes. But no. She couldn't read him, but she was pretty sure he would have bolted if she'd freaked him out beyond repair.
After a beat, he twisted his body and hooked the helmet to the handles, then turned back to her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Say something," Claire pleaded.
He didn't say anything. Warren was a guy of few words and she was used to that, but when he pressed his mouth against hers, she lost herself to the warm velvet of his lips, scooting closer into him.
"This is nice," she sighed when he pulled back.
Warren smiled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I thought you said amazing," he teased, tapping her nose playfully.
Nudging him, Claire pulled her tongue out at him, then welcomed his furtive kiss, which deepened as he cradled her face in his heated hands. She felt them like a caress. "This is nicer," she murmured breathlessly when his heavy breath fanned her face again.
"Tell me you want more Save the Citizen lessons," he demanded against her neck, causing her to shudder at the frank need in his voice.
Her eyes closed of their own volition as he sampled the delicate skin there. "Yes..."
"Not at school," he decided, mirroring her scrambled thoughts.
"No..."