Disclaimer: Sky High is not mine. This story was actually written by friend (who is wholy responsible for bringing me into the fandom), but she refuses to post it on "The Pit" (a.k.a. ff dot net) so here I am, making sure that there are some good fics amongst the Mary-Sues. All reviews will be sent to her in order to make her feel guilty and make her start writing more.
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Super heroes are never scarred. It's just a rule of life. No one admits it's possible to harm one of the city's great heroes enough to leave a mark.
Layla knows differently. Acutely, she knows the coppery smell of blood or, worse, burnt flesh. She knows every plant to use, which ones induce numbness or speed healing; she knows Will prefers the smell of honeysuckle but that Warren finds sunflowers relaxing. Layla knows all these things because she knows that heroes do scar.
She hates it, watching Warren hiss in pain when he thinks Layla won't hear him as he strips off his hero costume, exposing all kinds of new bruises and gashes. Watching Will stumble in nursing a quickly blackening eye makes her want to cry. He may be invulnerable to a lot of things, but a lot of villains punch hard.
And Layla sits at home, watching the news, her hands at her mouth in preparation of stifling the gasps and screams she knows will come whenever Hothead takes a punch or the Enforcer gets clipped by a piece of flying rubble. She waits for them to stumble home, Will using his super strength to hold up Warren, even when he's bruised and hurting from some new super villain's invulnerability device.
Whenever that door opens and her lovers wearily slump in, she will instantly run over to the door and wrap her arms around them. Will and Warren will smell of ash or blood, but Layla will breathe deeply anyway, whiffing in Warren's distinct smell, like wood smoke lurking just under his skin, and the smell of Will's hair and just thank Gaia that her boys made it back alive.
Layla will mix remedies and poultices for them, spreading them over whatever new injuries she should find. Openly, Will always hisses in pain despite trying not to. Warren, stoic as ever, bites his lip and doesn't make a peep. Warren is always the strong, silent type.
As she tends to them, Layla's fingers will dance across the white and red lines, the big scars and the little ones. She knows the story behind each scar but never says a word.
At night, Layla will crawl into bed between them and close her eyes and drift off to sleep, knowing the next day Hothead and Enforcer will go out again, wearing their uniforms, and letting the world think that they're impervious.
Layla knows though. She knows even gods get scarred; they're just better at keeping those scars hidden.