Ficlets: Brotherhood II, Suicide Kings, Sky High (PG)
You know what I just realized as I was fast-forwarding through Brotherhood II so I could look at Harlan's car? Marcus is hanging out in the parking lot smoking before school so he can catch a glimpse of Harlan. I can't believe that detail is just dawning on me now. Even in my icon he is looking around furtively for any sign of Harlan! How embarrassing. I mean, we all knew how pathetic he was in his crush, but I thought I'd thoroughly dissected this movie already. Clearly there is still something new to learn with each viewing. Which is lucky, because I plan many more viewings.
Anyway, fic requests. So far I've only finished three, but they're a lot longer than drabbles so three isn't that bad, considering. My aunt and uncle are coming to visit tomorrow, but I'm hoping to use my management assignment as an excuse to blow them off and keep working on fics. And reading the incredibly boring management book about which I am supposed to write a paper, of course. Only 250 more pages to go. Someone kill me.
I.
Nobody ever comes here.
During the season, sure, the place is crowded with guys in Speedos, swimming laps and trying to beat each other's times and acting like they're God's gift just because they're not afraid to shave their legs. But swim season ended months ago, and now the pool house is empty and still, their footsteps echoing in the quiet as Avery follows Brett up a row of metal bleachers.
Brett takes a seat near the middle and leans back, elbows on the bench behind him and legs stretched out in that careless way that makes him look more sure of himself than he really is. And Avery can't help grinning at the sight, because he bought the confident routine for a long time. To him Brett always seemed so…together, and now that he knows the truth, it just makes him love Brett even more.
Not that he'd ever say that, because he likes what they've got going and he's not going to screw it up by saying a bunch of stuff Brett doesn't want to hear. Instead he's going to enjoy the fact that Brett wants to be with him enough to risk sneaking away in the middle of a school function, hiding out in the deserted pool house and hoping none of the teachers notice they're gone.
It would have been better if they could have snuck back to the dorms, but they both know that's the first place any teacher would go looking for them. They've seen enough guys try to hide out during these stupid mixers the school puts on - to humiliate them all in front of the girls from Emma Willard, he's pretty sure - and they've seen those guys get dragged right back into the dance by some teacher who found them in their dorm room.
This is the last place anyone would think to look for them, and the knowledge that they're pretty much guaranteed at least an hour of privacy still makes Avery's stomach do a weird flip. He's not even sure why, because they've been alone plenty of times - well, a few times, anyway - since this started and he knows what to expect. Except that it's mostly dark in the pool house, the only light coming from the emergency exit signs and the safety lights glowing from under the surface of the pool.
It's…a little creepy, really, but kind of romantic in a way that he'd never admit out loud. Or at least it would be, if there was somewhere to sit other than the metal bleachers.
"You just gonna stand there all night?" Brett says, and Avery's glad suddenly for the darkness, because it means Brett won't see him blush.
He takes a few more steps forward and sinks onto the bleachers next to Brett, leans back to rest his elbows on the bench next to Brett's and wills himself to relax. Only he's never been all that good at relaxing, and ever since Brett kissed him that first time he feels like he's constantly running on overdrive. Like he's more aware of everything, from the sound of Brett's voice to the way his elbow presses against Avery's to the way he breathes, too loud in the silence and sort of raspy, like maybe he's just a little nervous too.
"Did you see that girl T.K. was dancing with?" Avery asks, because he doesn't really care about T.K.'s love life, but he has to say something to break the silence.
Brett lets out a bitter laugh and shifts on the bench, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. "What do you want to bet her name's Candy or something? He's probably already got her back in our room."
Which is totally unfair, because nobody blinks an eye when T.K. sneaks a girl back to the dorm, but if anybody caught Brett and Avery in one of their rooms…well, he's not exactly sure what would happen. Their friends would be one thing, but if a teacher caught them, chances are somebody would be calling their parents. Or kicking them out, and then they'd never see each other again.
That thought makes Avery's stomach flip for a completely different reason, and it must show on his face because suddenly Brett's leaning forward, frowning and reaching out to rest his hand against Avery's neck. "Jesus, Avery. Breathe."
So he does, realizes at the sensation of oxygen burning his lungs that he stopped for a few seconds, and that's just great, because now Brett's going to figure out exactly how big a basket case he is. Except that Brett already knows that, and he's still leaning closer, mouth brushing against Avery's lips. And that's much better than talking, so Avery kisses him back, fingers closing around the front of Brett's shirt to hold him close.
"What's the matter with you?" Brett asks when he finally pulls away, and it's all Avery can do not to tighten his grip and pull Brett right back up against him.
"Nothing," he answers instead, gaze firmly fixed on Brett's mouth and really, shouldn't they be taking advantage of their time alone instead of wasting it talking about T.K.?
"You wanna go back to the dance?"
"No," Avery answers, panic rising in his chest and now he is gripping the front of Brett's shirt too hard. "No," he whispers this time, against Brett's mouth now and just like that they're kissing again. Hard and kind of desperate, and Avery struggles to breathe through his nose. But he doesn't want to stop, and when Brett pulls back with a gasp his fingers dig in even harder to keep Brett close.
"You wanna go swimming?"
He should probably say no. It's already late and the dance will be over soon, and every second that ticks by gets them a little closer to the moment when someone notices they're missing. But he's already thinking about Brett, wet and naked and pressed up against him under the water, and he finds himself nodding his head. It's a bad idea, he tells himself as he stands up to follow Brett back down the bleachers. A really, really bad idea, that voice inside his head insists as Brett pulls his shirt off and kicks off his shoes.
There's no way they're not going to get caught, he tells himself, but he starts unbuttoning his own shirt anyway. Watches as Brett pushes his pants down his thighs and then slides into the water in his underwear, disappearing for just a second before he resurfaces to grin up at Avery. "You coming or what?"
Avery blushes all over again and hurries out of the rest of his clothes, aware of Brett's eyes on him the whole time. And it's not like it's the first time Brett's seen him mostly naked - not even close - but it's not that often he gets a chance to watch. Avery swallows a shudder at the thought and slips into the water - heated, thank God - and pushes off the side of the pool to glide toward Brett.
"This is crazy," he says, but he's not worrying about getting caught anymore, because Brett's hands are on him again, skin against skin this time and that doesn't happen nearly often enough.
"Yeah," Brett answers, breath warm against Avery's mouth as he leans in close to brush their lips together. "But it beats hanging out at some lame dance."
And Avery can't really argue with that.
~
II.
The rain's coming down in sheets as Harlan pulls into the parking lot, and Marcus can barely make out the vague, dark outlines of students running across the quad to their classes. He's not looking forward to following their lead, but first period starts in fifteen minutes and judging by the darkness of the sky, it doesn't look like the rain's going to let up any time soon.
He's not really surprised, because it's been raining all weekend. But it didn't matter while they were holed up at Harlan's place, where the rain was mostly a steady rhythm against the windowpane in Harlan's bedroom. It was kind of nice, actually, stretched out in Harlan's bed and listening to the rain falling outside while they made out.
The rain's still drumming out a rhythm - against the fabric of Harlan's convertible this time - only it's not so soothing when Marcus knows he's going to have to get out of the car in a minute and make a run for it.
"Might as well get it over with," he mutters, thinking about wet clothes sticking to them all day and no chance of feeling dry until he finally makes it back to his room and changes out of his uniform. He reaches for the door handle, his other hand gripping his backpack in anticipation of the mad dash across campus, but before he gets the car door open a hand lands on his shoulder to stop him.
"Let's wait awhile."
"Why?" Marcus says, finally glancing at Harlan to find him just…watching, like he doesn't care that it's pouring outside and they're as far away from their first class of the day as they can get.
"It's gotta stop sometime, right?" Harlan answers, and now he's smirking so Marcus is pretty sure he looks confused. Which he is, so he doesn't really mind if Harlan's laughing at him.
"I doubt it's going to stop in the next ten minutes," Marcus points out, glancing at his watch again and yeah, classes are going to start way too soon. "If we don't go now we'll be late."
Harlan shifts in his seat and just for a second Marcus thinks maybe he's going to say that Marcus is right, that they should go now so they don't wind up with detention. He tells himself he's not disappointed, because neither of them wants to get out of the car, but they don't really have a choice.
But instead of reaching for his own bag Harlan leans across the console, the hand on Marcus' shoulder sliding around his neck to pull him forward. "So we'll be late."
Marcus opens his mouth to say something about detention, but before he gets the words out Harlan's mouth is pressed against his, hot and open and maybe this is worth detention. Worth a whole week of detentions, and really, how bad could detention be if Harlan's there with him? So instead of arguing Marcus kisses back, hands sliding under Harlan's jacket to press against his chest.
Harlan's car is way too small for this, but the rain's still pounding out a steady rhythm and suddenly it seems kind of crazy to leave the warmth of the car while it's storming outside. And Harlan's right; it has to stop sometime, only Marcus kind of hopes that it'll keep raining for awhile.
~
IV.
He was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Not that he'd thought about it much, and Layla would probably accuse him of avoidant behavior or some other big word he didn't understand, exactly. But she'd probably be right - as usual - because the truth was he didn't want to deal with the possibility that something could go wrong.
He liked the way things were back at Sky High, when Warren was brooding and touchy, but still one of the good guys. He liked when they were all on the same side, didn't even mind that the whole world expected him to be just like his father, because at least he had his friends by his side.
But that was a long time ago, and things had changed a lot faster than he ever thought they would. Too fast for him to do anything to stop them, and sometimes he wished he could do that thing that Superman did in the movie, where he flew backwards so fast that he actually managed to turn back time. He'd thought about trying it, but his mom said something about atmospheric pressure and firey deaths and he'd chickened out.
Still, it might have been worth a shot if it meant he didn't have to be here right now.
'Here' being face to face with Warren, the one person who meant the most and the only one he hadn't been able to save. Because Warren didn't want saving, and he'd made that clear enough times that eventually Will had no choice but to stop trying. He knew it was true; Layla and his parents and pretty much everyone else had told him so more times than he could count, and there were times when he could almost believe it. Only now he was standing in front of Warren again, watching the familiar glow of fire engulfing the arms he knew so well and it didn't feel like he'd done enough.
"It doesn't have to be this way," he said, but they both knew it wasn't true. Things had gone too far to go back now, no matter how much Will wanted to. Even if Warren wanted the same thing he knew it was too late, because people were dead and most of the city was still burning and there was no taking it back. No redemption for the bastard son of Barron Battle, not this time, no matter how Will tried to spin it to the mayor or anyone else who might still be alive to care.
"No, it doesn't," Warren answered, and just for a second Will could almost hope that maybe he'd missed something. Maybe there was some secret that only Warren knew, some reason for all this other than revenge on a world that expected too much from superheroes. "It's not too late to join me."
They'd had this argument before. It was kind of comforting, in a way, because just for a second Will could see the old Warren, the one he'd moved in with in college and spent more hours than he could count memorizing in every single way he could think of. The Warren who'd look at him with those intense eyes, but instead of holding Will's life in his hands he was deciding on exactly where to kiss Will first.
Before the arguments started, before the weird phone calls in the middle of the night, the ones Warren wouldn't talk about, that crackled with static like the connection was coming from far away. Before Warren's father came back into his life and they were happy - at least Will had always thought they were happy - but in the end he wasn't enough for Warren.
Then the fights started, and after that it was all downhill until finally he came home one day and Warren just…didn't. The next time Will saw him he was burning a hole through the back of the main branch of the credit union downtown, providing an escape route for Barron Battle and the flunkies he'd managed to enlist on his master plan. And now they were still on opposite sides of the law, but Warren was asking him…what, exactly?
"You can't be serious," Will said, ignoring the tiny part of him that almost hoped Warren was. "My parents…Layla…"
"Fighting a losing battle, just like you," Warren interrupted, mouth twisting into that grim line that Will knew meant he was losing his patience. "I don't want to kill you, Will."
"You're not going to kill me," Will answered, and that much, at least, he was sure of. At least he thought he was sure. "Besides, I've beaten you before."
Warren's head inclined almost imperceptibly, and Will knew that was the only acknowledgement he was going to get. They both knew it was true; they'd been pretty evenly matched their whole lives, and that was why they'd worked so well together. At least that's what Will had always thought, that they were two halves of the same coin. He'd just never expected to have to prove it.
"I can't let you do this," he tried again, even though he wasn't exactly sure what the master plan was. The only thing he knew for sure was that Warren wasn't in charge; he was following his father's lead, and Barron Battle was the one with nothing to lose.
"I can't let you stop me," Warren said, flames growing higher on his arms and Will wished suddenly that his superpower was ice like that girl they'd gone to school with.
"Warren," he said, pleading again and he knew he sounded pathetic, but it didn't matter. Just for a second Warren's expression softened, and Will thought maybe he was having second thoughts. His heart leapt and he took a step forward, but as soon as he moved Warren's expression turned fierce.
"Forget it. We're not in college anymore, Will, and this isn't a game. You're either with me or you're against me."
"Then I guess we don't have anything more to say," Will said, hoping his voice wasn't shaking. He had super strength and flight on his side, but Warren was a step ahead of him, and by the time Will made it up and through the roof he'd be engulfed in flames. Maybe he could fly fast enough to put them out, but there was always the chance he'd burn up before he made it to water.
"Guess not," Warren answered, and for a second Will almost imagined he could see a hint of sadness in Warren's eyes. Then it was gone, and Warren was drawing a hand back. Will pushed off the ground, but before he made it more than a few feet there was a wall of flame in front of him, and Warren was sprinting out of the room toward a door in the far wall. Gone again, just like that, and there was a part of Will that wished he'd let Warren take him along for the ride.
~
I can't remember who requested what and I'm too lazy to go look it up, but if what you requested isn't here, it'll be along soon.
Anyway, fic requests. So far I've only finished three, but they're a lot longer than drabbles so three isn't that bad, considering. My aunt and uncle are coming to visit tomorrow, but I'm hoping to use my management assignment as an excuse to blow them off and keep working on fics. And reading the incredibly boring management book about which I am supposed to write a paper, of course. Only 250 more pages to go. Someone kill me.
I.
Nobody ever comes here.
During the season, sure, the place is crowded with guys in Speedos, swimming laps and trying to beat each other's times and acting like they're God's gift just because they're not afraid to shave their legs. But swim season ended months ago, and now the pool house is empty and still, their footsteps echoing in the quiet as Avery follows Brett up a row of metal bleachers.
Brett takes a seat near the middle and leans back, elbows on the bench behind him and legs stretched out in that careless way that makes him look more sure of himself than he really is. And Avery can't help grinning at the sight, because he bought the confident routine for a long time. To him Brett always seemed so…together, and now that he knows the truth, it just makes him love Brett even more.
Not that he'd ever say that, because he likes what they've got going and he's not going to screw it up by saying a bunch of stuff Brett doesn't want to hear. Instead he's going to enjoy the fact that Brett wants to be with him enough to risk sneaking away in the middle of a school function, hiding out in the deserted pool house and hoping none of the teachers notice they're gone.
It would have been better if they could have snuck back to the dorms, but they both know that's the first place any teacher would go looking for them. They've seen enough guys try to hide out during these stupid mixers the school puts on - to humiliate them all in front of the girls from Emma Willard, he's pretty sure - and they've seen those guys get dragged right back into the dance by some teacher who found them in their dorm room.
This is the last place anyone would think to look for them, and the knowledge that they're pretty much guaranteed at least an hour of privacy still makes Avery's stomach do a weird flip. He's not even sure why, because they've been alone plenty of times - well, a few times, anyway - since this started and he knows what to expect. Except that it's mostly dark in the pool house, the only light coming from the emergency exit signs and the safety lights glowing from under the surface of the pool.
It's…a little creepy, really, but kind of romantic in a way that he'd never admit out loud. Or at least it would be, if there was somewhere to sit other than the metal bleachers.
"You just gonna stand there all night?" Brett says, and Avery's glad suddenly for the darkness, because it means Brett won't see him blush.
He takes a few more steps forward and sinks onto the bleachers next to Brett, leans back to rest his elbows on the bench next to Brett's and wills himself to relax. Only he's never been all that good at relaxing, and ever since Brett kissed him that first time he feels like he's constantly running on overdrive. Like he's more aware of everything, from the sound of Brett's voice to the way his elbow presses against Avery's to the way he breathes, too loud in the silence and sort of raspy, like maybe he's just a little nervous too.
"Did you see that girl T.K. was dancing with?" Avery asks, because he doesn't really care about T.K.'s love life, but he has to say something to break the silence.
Brett lets out a bitter laugh and shifts on the bench, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. "What do you want to bet her name's Candy or something? He's probably already got her back in our room."
Which is totally unfair, because nobody blinks an eye when T.K. sneaks a girl back to the dorm, but if anybody caught Brett and Avery in one of their rooms…well, he's not exactly sure what would happen. Their friends would be one thing, but if a teacher caught them, chances are somebody would be calling their parents. Or kicking them out, and then they'd never see each other again.
That thought makes Avery's stomach flip for a completely different reason, and it must show on his face because suddenly Brett's leaning forward, frowning and reaching out to rest his hand against Avery's neck. "Jesus, Avery. Breathe."
So he does, realizes at the sensation of oxygen burning his lungs that he stopped for a few seconds, and that's just great, because now Brett's going to figure out exactly how big a basket case he is. Except that Brett already knows that, and he's still leaning closer, mouth brushing against Avery's lips. And that's much better than talking, so Avery kisses him back, fingers closing around the front of Brett's shirt to hold him close.
"What's the matter with you?" Brett asks when he finally pulls away, and it's all Avery can do not to tighten his grip and pull Brett right back up against him.
"Nothing," he answers instead, gaze firmly fixed on Brett's mouth and really, shouldn't they be taking advantage of their time alone instead of wasting it talking about T.K.?
"You wanna go back to the dance?"
"No," Avery answers, panic rising in his chest and now he is gripping the front of Brett's shirt too hard. "No," he whispers this time, against Brett's mouth now and just like that they're kissing again. Hard and kind of desperate, and Avery struggles to breathe through his nose. But he doesn't want to stop, and when Brett pulls back with a gasp his fingers dig in even harder to keep Brett close.
"You wanna go swimming?"
He should probably say no. It's already late and the dance will be over soon, and every second that ticks by gets them a little closer to the moment when someone notices they're missing. But he's already thinking about Brett, wet and naked and pressed up against him under the water, and he finds himself nodding his head. It's a bad idea, he tells himself as he stands up to follow Brett back down the bleachers. A really, really bad idea, that voice inside his head insists as Brett pulls his shirt off and kicks off his shoes.
There's no way they're not going to get caught, he tells himself, but he starts unbuttoning his own shirt anyway. Watches as Brett pushes his pants down his thighs and then slides into the water in his underwear, disappearing for just a second before he resurfaces to grin up at Avery. "You coming or what?"
Avery blushes all over again and hurries out of the rest of his clothes, aware of Brett's eyes on him the whole time. And it's not like it's the first time Brett's seen him mostly naked - not even close - but it's not that often he gets a chance to watch. Avery swallows a shudder at the thought and slips into the water - heated, thank God - and pushes off the side of the pool to glide toward Brett.
"This is crazy," he says, but he's not worrying about getting caught anymore, because Brett's hands are on him again, skin against skin this time and that doesn't happen nearly often enough.
"Yeah," Brett answers, breath warm against Avery's mouth as he leans in close to brush their lips together. "But it beats hanging out at some lame dance."
And Avery can't really argue with that.
~
II.
The rain's coming down in sheets as Harlan pulls into the parking lot, and Marcus can barely make out the vague, dark outlines of students running across the quad to their classes. He's not looking forward to following their lead, but first period starts in fifteen minutes and judging by the darkness of the sky, it doesn't look like the rain's going to let up any time soon.
He's not really surprised, because it's been raining all weekend. But it didn't matter while they were holed up at Harlan's place, where the rain was mostly a steady rhythm against the windowpane in Harlan's bedroom. It was kind of nice, actually, stretched out in Harlan's bed and listening to the rain falling outside while they made out.
The rain's still drumming out a rhythm - against the fabric of Harlan's convertible this time - only it's not so soothing when Marcus knows he's going to have to get out of the car in a minute and make a run for it.
"Might as well get it over with," he mutters, thinking about wet clothes sticking to them all day and no chance of feeling dry until he finally makes it back to his room and changes out of his uniform. He reaches for the door handle, his other hand gripping his backpack in anticipation of the mad dash across campus, but before he gets the car door open a hand lands on his shoulder to stop him.
"Let's wait awhile."
"Why?" Marcus says, finally glancing at Harlan to find him just…watching, like he doesn't care that it's pouring outside and they're as far away from their first class of the day as they can get.
"It's gotta stop sometime, right?" Harlan answers, and now he's smirking so Marcus is pretty sure he looks confused. Which he is, so he doesn't really mind if Harlan's laughing at him.
"I doubt it's going to stop in the next ten minutes," Marcus points out, glancing at his watch again and yeah, classes are going to start way too soon. "If we don't go now we'll be late."
Harlan shifts in his seat and just for a second Marcus thinks maybe he's going to say that Marcus is right, that they should go now so they don't wind up with detention. He tells himself he's not disappointed, because neither of them wants to get out of the car, but they don't really have a choice.
But instead of reaching for his own bag Harlan leans across the console, the hand on Marcus' shoulder sliding around his neck to pull him forward. "So we'll be late."
Marcus opens his mouth to say something about detention, but before he gets the words out Harlan's mouth is pressed against his, hot and open and maybe this is worth detention. Worth a whole week of detentions, and really, how bad could detention be if Harlan's there with him? So instead of arguing Marcus kisses back, hands sliding under Harlan's jacket to press against his chest.
Harlan's car is way too small for this, but the rain's still pounding out a steady rhythm and suddenly it seems kind of crazy to leave the warmth of the car while it's storming outside. And Harlan's right; it has to stop sometime, only Marcus kind of hopes that it'll keep raining for awhile.
~
IV.
He was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Not that he'd thought about it much, and Layla would probably accuse him of avoidant behavior or some other big word he didn't understand, exactly. But she'd probably be right - as usual - because the truth was he didn't want to deal with the possibility that something could go wrong.
He liked the way things were back at Sky High, when Warren was brooding and touchy, but still one of the good guys. He liked when they were all on the same side, didn't even mind that the whole world expected him to be just like his father, because at least he had his friends by his side.
But that was a long time ago, and things had changed a lot faster than he ever thought they would. Too fast for him to do anything to stop them, and sometimes he wished he could do that thing that Superman did in the movie, where he flew backwards so fast that he actually managed to turn back time. He'd thought about trying it, but his mom said something about atmospheric pressure and firey deaths and he'd chickened out.
Still, it might have been worth a shot if it meant he didn't have to be here right now.
'Here' being face to face with Warren, the one person who meant the most and the only one he hadn't been able to save. Because Warren didn't want saving, and he'd made that clear enough times that eventually Will had no choice but to stop trying. He knew it was true; Layla and his parents and pretty much everyone else had told him so more times than he could count, and there were times when he could almost believe it. Only now he was standing in front of Warren again, watching the familiar glow of fire engulfing the arms he knew so well and it didn't feel like he'd done enough.
"It doesn't have to be this way," he said, but they both knew it wasn't true. Things had gone too far to go back now, no matter how much Will wanted to. Even if Warren wanted the same thing he knew it was too late, because people were dead and most of the city was still burning and there was no taking it back. No redemption for the bastard son of Barron Battle, not this time, no matter how Will tried to spin it to the mayor or anyone else who might still be alive to care.
"No, it doesn't," Warren answered, and just for a second Will could almost hope that maybe he'd missed something. Maybe there was some secret that only Warren knew, some reason for all this other than revenge on a world that expected too much from superheroes. "It's not too late to join me."
They'd had this argument before. It was kind of comforting, in a way, because just for a second Will could see the old Warren, the one he'd moved in with in college and spent more hours than he could count memorizing in every single way he could think of. The Warren who'd look at him with those intense eyes, but instead of holding Will's life in his hands he was deciding on exactly where to kiss Will first.
Before the arguments started, before the weird phone calls in the middle of the night, the ones Warren wouldn't talk about, that crackled with static like the connection was coming from far away. Before Warren's father came back into his life and they were happy - at least Will had always thought they were happy - but in the end he wasn't enough for Warren.
Then the fights started, and after that it was all downhill until finally he came home one day and Warren just…didn't. The next time Will saw him he was burning a hole through the back of the main branch of the credit union downtown, providing an escape route for Barron Battle and the flunkies he'd managed to enlist on his master plan. And now they were still on opposite sides of the law, but Warren was asking him…what, exactly?
"You can't be serious," Will said, ignoring the tiny part of him that almost hoped Warren was. "My parents…Layla…"
"Fighting a losing battle, just like you," Warren interrupted, mouth twisting into that grim line that Will knew meant he was losing his patience. "I don't want to kill you, Will."
"You're not going to kill me," Will answered, and that much, at least, he was sure of. At least he thought he was sure. "Besides, I've beaten you before."
Warren's head inclined almost imperceptibly, and Will knew that was the only acknowledgement he was going to get. They both knew it was true; they'd been pretty evenly matched their whole lives, and that was why they'd worked so well together. At least that's what Will had always thought, that they were two halves of the same coin. He'd just never expected to have to prove it.
"I can't let you do this," he tried again, even though he wasn't exactly sure what the master plan was. The only thing he knew for sure was that Warren wasn't in charge; he was following his father's lead, and Barron Battle was the one with nothing to lose.
"I can't let you stop me," Warren said, flames growing higher on his arms and Will wished suddenly that his superpower was ice like that girl they'd gone to school with.
"Warren," he said, pleading again and he knew he sounded pathetic, but it didn't matter. Just for a second Warren's expression softened, and Will thought maybe he was having second thoughts. His heart leapt and he took a step forward, but as soon as he moved Warren's expression turned fierce.
"Forget it. We're not in college anymore, Will, and this isn't a game. You're either with me or you're against me."
"Then I guess we don't have anything more to say," Will said, hoping his voice wasn't shaking. He had super strength and flight on his side, but Warren was a step ahead of him, and by the time Will made it up and through the roof he'd be engulfed in flames. Maybe he could fly fast enough to put them out, but there was always the chance he'd burn up before he made it to water.
"Guess not," Warren answered, and for a second Will almost imagined he could see a hint of sadness in Warren's eyes. Then it was gone, and Warren was drawing a hand back. Will pushed off the ground, but before he made it more than a few feet there was a wall of flame in front of him, and Warren was sprinting out of the room toward a door in the far wall. Gone again, just like that, and there was a part of Will that wished he'd let Warren take him along for the ride.
~
I can't remember who requested what and I'm too lazy to go look it up, but if what you requested isn't here, it'll be along soon.