..(3rd Person POV)….

The following week at school was seemingly normal for everyone, but Will struggled with his conscience. Although he'd promised Layla to keep Nora's secret between them, he found himself battling with the desire to tell Warren anyways.

Nora was Warren's Save the Citizen partner, anyways, so he had a right to know if Nora was keeping their affiliation a secret. On the other hand, Will argued himself internally, Warren technically had no claim over Nora, and her business was her own. But Will felt responsible for his best friend. And he had a nagging feeling that this secret would come back around full-circle, in a way that would only hurt more than help.

He fought himself internally for the rest of the week.

.. (POV Change – Back to Nora)….

Save the Citizen practice was physically taxing that Thursday evening. After a week of normalcy (or as normal as it could get at a Superhero High School), I was grateful to be back in the groove of things. We ran drills, conditioned, ran some more drills. It was refreshing to let my mind quiet for a while, and let my body go through the motions I was so familiar to. Warren and I paired for every drill, as did the other hero-sidekick duos.

Boomer switched us around occasionally, combining different sets of abilities to keep the team in practice, but never for too long. Warren and I always came back together to create cohesive, fluid teamwork.

I leaned heavily against the gymnasium wall during break. We'd just finished sprints and would play a short scrimmage soon to wrap practice up. I gulped down water from my bottle, looking around the gym at the rest of the team. Warren sat nearby, by himself, as usual. Sometimes we joked around on breaks, sometimes we didn't. I was too exhausted today to talk and opted just to stand quietly by myself.

The gymnasium where the Save the Citizen games were held wasn't that large, but an adjoining track and field outside made up for it. Coach Boomer had propped open the exit doors facing the outdoor track, and cool air blew it through them. It was just getting dark.

The voices in the gym were more difficult to ignore than in other rooms, mostly because the gym reverberated every sound. Tonight, I could hear some of the other kids talking among themselves in perfect clarity.

They were joking around, and typical conversation wafted through the air to my ears. Who was failing chem, who was taking who to homecoming, who was going out to eat after practice.

My ears pricked up at that bit of conversation. They say that those who eavesdrop never hear good about themselves, and I could attest that more often than not it was true. This was one of those times.

They were making plans for after practice.

"What about them?" One girl asked, gesturing with her eyes over to Warren and I.

"What about them?" Another boy spoke, turning his head over his shoulder to look. "I don't wanna invite Peace, he's a villain."

"Keep your voice down!" another protested, "He's looking."

And so he was. I glanced over at Warren, who was glowering at the group of kids plotting to exclude him. I was sure he hadn't heard as much as I had, but he'd understood what little his human ears heard, and he understood their body language. I realized in an agonizing mix of sympathy and understanding, that he must have lived through experiences like this many times before.

An anger beyond words filled me suddenly, but I knew it was a secondary result of what I was really feeling- bitter, and distressed for Warren. The scene I'd just witnessed hit a little too close to home.

After practice, I waited outside the locker room for him. Will and Layla were the first ones to bail practice, having already set up a date night. Warren was the last one out, his long hair pulled back into a low bun, and he'd put a fresh t-shirt on. He looked surprised to see me.

"Hi," I said lamely.

"Hey," he responded, equally as lame. We were quiet for a second.

"I'm starving," I stated, trying (and failing) to act natural. "Let's go grab something to eat."

I linked an arm through his, and we started walking towards the front of the school where the bus was.

"A-are you sure?" Warren asked. He sounded apprehensive.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm hungry," I teased him, avoiding his prompt and trying to sound casual. He saw right through me.

"Nora, stop." And I did. He looked at me with a carefully guarded face. "You don't have to feel sorry for me. I'm fine on my own."

I looked at him and felt a million things pass through me that I wanted to tell him.

You're not fine.

I don't feel sorry for you, I feel just like you.

You don't have to be on your own.

"I don't care what they think about me," Warren began again, before I had a chance to make an idiot out of myself. He gestured to the other kids walking down the distant hallway. "I know they call me a villain, and I know it's not true…" He faltered there. "But I don't- I don't want them to think the same thing about you. And I wouldn't blame you if you cared what they think-"

I stopped him with a gesture of my hand. I took a breath to stabilize my emotions- if he kept talking, it'd be sure to break my heart.

I decided it was a good time to overstep boundaries. I dug into his gym bag suddenly, clumsily pulling at the zipper, trying to find it, trying to find it…

"Nora, what are you-"

I pulled his playing jersey out of his bag. I held it, crumpled, in my fist so he could see.

"This," I said, and dug into my own bag next. I held up my playing jersey, too.

"You see these?" I asked, "Same number, same team." It was true- his sported a 29H, and mine a 29S. Hero and Sidekick. "You and me, we're partners now. That means that we're for each other, not against each other. You get it?" Warren looked at me with brows knitted together, and his mouth pressed into a straight line. I saw his jaw ripple lightly when he clenched it.

"It means I don't care if you're 'fine on your own.' You don't have to be on your own," I stated. It was the best I could come up with. It wasn't everything I wanted to tell him, didn't even come close, but it was the best I could do. "It means I'm committed."

I drew my gaze away from his. Suddenly, I was embarrassed, like I'd just shared too much information about myself. I hoped desperately that he didn't think I was stupid or overthinking things. I clumsily shoved his jersey back into his bag, felt my face flush, and linked arms with him again before he could say anything else.

"Let's go get something to eat." I said, dragging him through the halls. And we did.

We were sitting in a corner booth. The restaurant was quiet, even for a Thursday night. It was decorated in dark, bold reds and the typical accents- lanterns, gold trims, and Asiatic wall art. It was a Chinese food restaurant, no doubt about it.

Warren and I sat on the same side of the table, our backs to the wall, observing the patrons and workers. He was giving me the full scoop on his coworkers and regular customers.

"And that's Kim," he noted, pointing to a small Asian lady clad in a button up and black slacks. She was seated at an empty table poring over the accounts. "The owner's wife. She's scary when she's angry. We call her the Dragonlady when she's not around."

I let out a short laugh, while simultaneously stuffing my face with noodles. I was the picture of grace- dirty and gross from practice, hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, and starving out of my mind. Classy.

But it was easy to be myself around Warren. We played sports together and were used to seeing each other sweaty and disgusting (although I was fairly sure I looked plain disgruntled while we played Save the Citizen, while he looked to barely break a sweat). I didn't mind eating my fill. I didn't mind having to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Warren made me feel at ease, and I valued him dearly for that.

I hoped the feeling was mutual. He looked across the restaurant, brown eyes playing over the familiar setting. His body was relaxed, shoulders sloping gradually down to muscled arms. His skin, naturally a dark tone, was even more shadowy golden in the dim light. He was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt and for once was without the iconic fingerless gloves. I greedily took in his tattoos, wondering where they came from and I thought about asking. I noted how the dim light cast shadows on his face, and the sharp contrast outlined his angular jawline in perfect clarity. Thank God for the Paper Lantern.

"Try the crab Rangoon," He said, using his chopsticks to push one of the deep-fried puffs off his plate onto mine, "They're really good."

I stabbed it readily with my fork, nodding my head in approval as I ate it.

"So good," I agreed, and snatched another from his plate. He half smiled at me from the corner of his eye.

"No chopsticks for you?" He asked, manipulating some rice onto the two pieces of wood with skill. I could tell he was showing off.

"I'm a traditionalist," I shrugged between bites. Warren laughed.

"Nora, there's nothing traditional about you," He joked, and I rolled my eyes. If he only knew, I thought.

"I like to use a fork because it gets the food to my mouth the fastest," I conceded, and opted to change the subject from my unfavorable eating habits. "What's with the ink?"

I gestured to the flames licking up his defined arms. He glanced down at them silently, and for a moment his body stiffened.

"It's a birthmark," Warren spoke finally, but his voice was displeased and tired, like he'd pondered them too often. To him, they were less like tattoos and more like scars.

"For real?" I asked, and he nodded. I admired them for another moment, reaching to lay a cautious hand on the markings. My thumb gently glided over the flames, and my brows drew together unintentionally. I wondered with concern what had happened to Warren Peace to permit him such scars. Somehow, it felt unfair.

I felt the temperature of his skin grow hot without warning, and my hand retreated into my lap almost immediately. He wasn't angry at me by any means, but I could tell I'd overstepped another type of boundary.

"Th-those are pretty badass, though," I joked, embarrassed. Why did I always push the limits with him? "I've got a birthmark, too, but it's not quite so attractive, if you catch my drift."

When I risked a glance, he was looking at me blankly. Then he threw his head back to laugh, exposing the muscles of his throat and revealing the deep notch at the base of his neck. They moved as he laughed aloud. It was the first time I noticed what thick eyelashes he had, and I delighted in the laugh lines that formed in the corners of his eyes. The patrons and workers of the restaurant turned to look. I stared at Warren.

We didn't leave the Paper Lantern until closing. It was late for a school night, but I'd finished my homework at least. Warren and I continued to chat a little under a streetlight.

"Which way do you live?" He asked, and I gestured with my thumb behind me.

"Thataway," I said, "Pretty close to Layla's. Which way are you going?"

He nodded the opposite direction.

"I'm not too far from here," He told me, in a satisfied voice that I hoped was saying, We live close to one another. That means we can hang out again…

"Oh," I faltered. I was hoping we'd be going the same direction, and I didn't want to leave him just yet. "I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow."

It came out like a question. That was dumb.

"Yeah, I guess so," Warren nodded, and a few stray hairs fell out of his bun. He tucked them behind his ear. We stood for a second longer.

"Goodnight, then," I attempted to close with grace, smiling at him as I retreated down the sidewalk.

"Goodnight," He said. I saw him wave as I turned. I took several steps in the direction of home.

"Hey, Nora?"

I went to face Warren again and was suddenly pulled into a warm body. I reached out to him instinctively, wrapping my arms around his fit torso and holding him much tighter than I meant to. His arms wound around my neck and shoulders, and held my head into his chest.

"Thanks for being with me," Warren said. I knew what he meant. I nodded, digging my face into his shirt to breathe him in. His body was still a bit stinky from practice, but mine was too- he smelled good to me.

"Don't mention it," I mumbled, the noise muffled in his chest. We stood still.

I squeezed my arms tight around him briefly and let go. He loosed himself from me, and let his hands trail along my shoulders and down my arms. I smiled up at him, and he seemed almost to be blushing. I couldn't quite tell, because the light from the streetlamp behind him enveloped his features in darkness and created a halo around him. I stepped away from him.

"See you tomorrow," I called out, walking away without looking back. I didn't want him to see the goofy grin I had plastered to my face.

…..

The mood was electric at school the next day. Gym was our second-to-last class of the day, and what a day it was- clear blue skies, crisp air, and a breeze whispered to us that Fall was on its way.

The students on the bleachers buzzed with excitement. It was Friday, the weather was gorgeous, and everyone was typically hyper in gym class, anyways. With all that combined, Boomer was having a hard time reining everyone in even with his voice. He opted to introduce a new game, instead, to satiate the beast (us).

The new game was simple- heroes vs. villains. Two teams would fight in the arena within a given time set, and whichever team was left standing won. As teams were assigned their roles at random and we began to play, it became evident that the game wasn't as clear-cut as it seemed.

A little like real life, I mused.

"Hey, Coach!" I called to the little man wearing shorts, "What's with the new games? What's wrong with good ol' STC?"

Boomer looked away from the game he wasn't reffing. He was paying more attention to the bag of chips in his lap than to the teenagers fighting in the arena.

"Principal Powers says we need more 'diversity'," Boomer mumbled through a mouthful of barbeque chips, raising his stained fingers to use air quotes, "It's supposed to be less about the citizen and more about 'realistic combat situations.' Apparently, we need more 'team-building' activities." There were the air quotes again. Boomer mumbled something under his breath about the combat in his days, and I turned a blind ear.

"I think it's a horrible idea," Layla spoke up from behind me. I turned to look at her and Will. "It just gives people an excuse to go after one another."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Will told her, pointing to the scoreboard. Their names were up next. Layla followed him down the bleachers with a groan. I smiled after them.

"I think she's right," Steven's timid voice rang out from in front of me. He leaned his head backwards to look at me. "I can think of a couple people in here who'd love to get their hands on me."

I interpreted his meaning, and I glanced at Bigs from the corner of my eye. He was sitting all the way at the top of the bleachers, against the wall, snickering with some friends. I could smell the hostility rolling off him, and knew he just couldn't wait for his turn to play.

"It doesn't seem very well thought out," Warren agreed from his seat at my right. He looked up from his book to voice his opinion, holding his place with a finger. We were sitting very close to one another, and the soft heat from his body warmed my chilly limbs. The weather was starting to get to me.

"I like the no-holds-barred approach," I protested, watching Will and Layla play their round. They worked wonderfully together. "It's the only way I've ever done it."

"Well, not all of us are as into Fight Club as you are, Nora!" Steven complained, turning back around.

"Hey, the first rule of fight club is you do not talk about fight club," I quoted to him, and Warren laughed from next to me. I let a smile slide onto my face. I loved it when he laughed.

"Steven's right, Nora," Warren said after a minute, looking at me pensively, "You're too confrontational." I didn't have a good answer. He was probably right.

Warren and I were up soon. The names on the board were familiar- too familiar. We were facing Bigs again.

I wondered how it always seemed to happen that way. Was Boomer doing it on purpose? Was he trying to pit us against one another? Granted, whenever Bigs and I fought it was bound to be a good match. But part of me wondered if Coach Boomer was trying to punish me for being a sidekick, and not the prodigy hero he expected. Maybe I was overthinking it.

It made no difference. Warren and I stepped into the arena, and Bigs looked at me decisively. His stance was less cocky than usual, but his demeanor smacked of violence. He was going at me today, and I could tell he was going to try to hurt me.

I prepared myself for what I knew was coming. Two can play at that game, I decided as I walked onto the playing field. Warren held me back suddenly.

"Warren, what's wrong?" I asked him. His eyes had a bitter tone to them, and I struggled to read his emotions.

"Let me have him," Warren said.

I was confused at first, then petulant. I thought that Warren felt I was incapable of handling Bigs. But I opened my mouth to protest and closed it again at the look in his eyes. Warren was being protective of me, sure- but the dangerous look on his face told me I better let him have his way. And I did.

We lined up against the other team, waiting for the buzzer. Bigs sneered at me.

"Go ahead and hide behind your hero," The size manipulator spat out, glaring at Warren, "But one day, I'm gonna get you to show those powers of yours."

My face must have paled, because Bigs continued on with renewed spite.

"You're gonna slip up someday, and I'm gonna be there to make sure it happens."

I couldn't respond. I was aware of Warren stepping in front of me, of flames spreading from his palms before the buzzer ever started the game.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

Before I knew it, Warren and Bigs were halfway across the stadium fighting viciously. The crowd cheered them on. I snapped myself out of my thoughts and distanced myself from the distress I was feeling. My emotions could wait. I still had to take on Bigs' partner.

Several minutes passed. It wasn't my first time dealing with a geokinetic, and my reflexes were on par with my opponent's. I dodged the earth as he reshaped it under me, avoided pits, and landed a few blows when I could. The key with earth manipulators was to be on the earth as little as possible.

I was more concerned about Warren and Bigs. Under any other circumstance, I believed that Warren could put Bigs down in a heartbeat, but today the size manipulator seemed more driven and more vicious. I was surprised when the game wore on, and my partner didn't seem to land as many hits as I thought he would. I could see that Warren was becoming tired and his aim worsened gradually. The giant was wearing him down, and it was making me nervous.

As I kept an eye on my own opponent (a lower-classman not too in touch with his powers), I cursed at the scoreboard. Time was barely ticking by, and I knew that the longer we were in the ring with Bigman, the more likely Warren was to get hurt. I cursed Warren, too, for taking on the giant by himself. I cursed myself for letting him.

Warren was resorting to ducking and dodging (the best tactic against an enemy of considerable size). He had taken cover behind a brick wall in the "Downtown" area of the field. I was nearby and could hear him gasping for breath while he leaned heavily on the wall. Bigs was just gathering himself up for another attack.

Something in Bigman's eyes stopped me. The half-crazed glaze of the lunatic's scowl sent my heart pounding in panic, and my animal senses kicked in automatically. I tracked his movements for only a second, anticipating his next move, and my mind raced to find a resolution.

My feet were moving before I could think of what to do. I called out to Warren, commanding him to run from his hiding spot. Bigs' hand clenched into a fist and he pulled it back as if in slow-motion. My legs were carrying me to Warren, still leaning against the wall, looking at me confusedly.

Move, move! I tried to yell, yell to my beautiful idiot to get out of harm's way. Bigs' intentions had become clear to me- there was no way for him to catch Warren in the cacophony of phony buildings and brick walls of Downtown. So he would bring the whole thing crashing down on Warren.

All this passed through my mind in a matter of seconds. The size-manipulator's fist grew dangerously closer to the wall Warren was behind, and collided just as I reached my partner. I pushed off the ground with my legs, my strength enhanced by my powers, and gave everything I had to push Warren away from behind that wall. I was vaguely aware of Warren yell as I shoved him away with force, of the crashing of brick and buildings, of the panicked yelling of the crowds, and then I heard nothing…

..

Phew, this was a long chapter to write! Sorry it took so long.I had a lot of things going on in this chapter that I wanted to make clear. So many developments! Will and Layla think Nora won't tell her parents about Save the Citizen because she's ashamed to be paired with Warren, a "villain". Warren and Nora are becoming more comfortable with one another, and things are advancing nicely. Bigs has got some kind of vendetta against our protag, and makes a shallow vow to get her to reveal her powers sooner or later. Poor Nora gets crushed under some bricks, and … Well, I guess you guys will have to wait to see what happens next *wink wink*. Hope you're enjoying this. Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave me a review!

P.S.- Sorry for the shameless Paper Lantern date. What can I say? It's a staple of all the good Warren Peace fanfics. All the other writers are doing it…