Warren was never cold.
Well, that wasn't exactly true. When it was below zero and freezing in Maxville, he was cold, but only until he lit a small fire that would crawl across his skin so he was toasty warm. In high school, he had braved the cold until reaching Sky High, where it was always cloudless and sunny, no matter what weather was raging below.
However, after he graduated and became Hothead, the continual summer at Sky High was no longer available to him (unless he stayed on as a teacher, to which he responded with a not so polite refusal). It was only his powers that could keep him warm in the cold, but he tried not to do that, as it was a constant drain on them.
Nights were the worst. Living the city was expensive, but he absolutely needed to be close to whatever action might occur, and he didn't have the ability to fly. The combination of rent and the need to eat, along with other expenses, left little room for him to heat his apartment as well as he would have liked. He would come to his drafty home, eat a late dinner and take a lukewarm shower, courtesy the teenage girl across the hall who felt the necessity of a half-hour hot bath every night. When he finally crawled into bed, the sheets were cold, and wouldn't warm up for another hour.
But now . . .
Warren lay between Will and Layla, eyes open, but not making a move to disturb them. Layla was curled up toward him on her side, breathing softly on Warren's arm, her feet warmed between his legs. Will was stretched out on his stomach, using Warren's arm as a pillow, his own arm splayed over Warren's chest and resting on Layla's waist, pulling them closer to him. The warmth spread from each of them to suffuse the entire bed, gently inviting Warren to sleep. He planted a soft kiss on both his lovers before quietly closing his eyes and drifting off into dreams.
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Reviews are nice for asking for more. Flames will be printed out and mocked, then burned to warm my freezing feet.