Layla rose quietly at the first hint of sunlight hit the potted hyacinths in the window, slipping out from under the thin sheet that covered the slumbering bodies of her two lovers. Warren reacted first to the lack of her warmth and weight. He scrunched up his forehead and forced one bleary eye open.
"Up at the butt-crack of dawn again?" he asked with a yawn, stretching languidly.
Layla gave him a pointed look as she pulled on her leaf-patterned robe, bare feet slapping against the floor as she moved towards her watering can. The jungle that was their shared apartment was in need of its daily water.
Warren pulled on boxers and a t-shirt he grabbed off the floor, roughly shoving Will awake. Will blinked slowly, then quickly pulled the covers over his head, shoving his face into the pillow. Instead of trying (and most likely failing) to pull the sheets from Will's super-strong grip, Warren grabbed the other end and pulled that over Will's head, exposing his naked body to the cold air. Will gave a large groan and as much of a dirty look as he could without actually opening his eyes or seeing where Warren was. He stumbled off in the general direction of the bathroom, probably giving Layla an eyeful along the way.
Warren padded towards the kitchen and set up the coffee pot, heating up the water while he ground the Fair Trade blend Layla had insisted they buy instead of promoting exploitation of third-world worker for less-than minimum wage. They agreed, partially to shut her up, partially because it actually tasted better than the canned variety, enough that they were willing to buy it despite the higher price.
The sound of flowing water alerted Warren that Will had finally opened his eyes enough to see where the knobs were. He started making breakfast, setting up the rice cooker with as much as it would hold, and oiling the frying pan. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee, fried eggs and ham wafted underneath the bathroom door where Will was groping for the shampoo bottle, still refusing to open his eyes more than a crack. He sniffed the air, and scenting food, opened his eyes a little more so that he could actually see where the bottle was. He quickly hurried through the rest of his shower, accidentally crushing a bar of soap in his eagerness.
Warren finished laying out the food just as Will stumbled from the bathroom, wearing only a purple towel wrapped around his hips. He sat next to Layla, who was serving herself some of the rice while absently watching the news report.
" . . . nocturnal Night Avengers have done it again." The reported grinned plastically. "Glowstick, Lab Rat, and Popsicle busted Count Doomula's evil plot to take over the city. We take you now to the scene of the battle last night."
The television flashed to last night's footage of Zack, Magenta, and Ethan fighting a badly-dressed villain in a purple cape.
"Clashing costume." Layla remarked. "Minus 10."
Warren glanced at the screen and winced. "Bad dental hygiene. Minus 20."
"Weak maniacal laughter." Will spoke through a mouthful of eggs. "Minus 5."
They traded comments for a while, and Layla giggled at Zack's badly named "Light of Justice" attack, which was more like a reading lamp than the spotlight he thought it was.
After graduating from Sky High, they had discovered that Zack's powers had an interesting effect on those who wanted to do evil. Apparently, villains could not view the "pure" light of Zack's glow, and would render themselves effectively blind from covering their own eyes.
This current baddie was doing exactly that, running wildly around with his hands over his eyes. Ethan melted in his path, causing him to skid, and Magenta took that opportunity to shape-shift, biting into his flesh with her sharp guinea-pig teeth.
Count Doomula screamed in pain (Girlie scream, minus 10) and slipped again on Ethan, this time landing on his rear, (Bad landing, minus 3) giving Zack the opportunity he needed to slap power-restraining handcuffs on the villain who was currently whimpering (Plus 10, no monologues) on the ground, muttering something about demon rodents.
"Went out like a damp rag." Will gave the last points. "Minus 50."
"So what's that add up to?" Layla asked, sipping her coffee with cream.
"Negative 462." Warren replied, dumping sugar into his coffee.
Layla nodded and walked to the list on the refrigerator. "Worst Supervillains Ever," it read, containing a long list of defeated villains. On the top was "The Plunger" with a whopping –2736, followed only by "Mr. Cliché," who had racked up most of his infamy by speaking, as his name suggested, only in clichés.
Count Doomula received 40th place overall, and an honorable mention for worst name. Layla turned off the TV just as it flashed to the former sidekicks at their brief interview last night. No one really wanted to listen to Zack's monologues about the power of justice and whatnot.
Breakfast continued quietly, everyone simply enjoying the silence and peace of a morning where no evil threatened the world. Layla's article for Organic Gardening Weekly was on the desk of the editor, Warren's editorial for the local newspaper was on hold this week, and Will had made sure not to schedule any house showings that might interfere with their plans. As for their superhero personalities, they were also off on vacation, with the Night Avengers filling in along with some of Sky High's recent graduates who were just learning the ropes.
It was a nice feeling. Nowhere to go, no one to see, nothing to do. They could spend the entire week simply at home, living on the shared meals and each other's company.
'Which,' Layla mused. 'Is exactly what's going to happen if Warren and Will don't stop looking at me like I'm breakfast.'
They didn't stop.
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Reviews are appreciated and make me feel special. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. A possible second chapter is in the works for this, but I make no promises until I am sufficiently bored enough.