Ch 2: One on One

"…so then Medulla asked Zack if he even knew what a phosphorescent pigment was," Will dribbled the basketball on his icy driveway, trying to figure out which way to break around Warren.

Warren was stronger on his right side, but he knew Will knew that, and he would expect him to go left. The chances of Will getting around him were equally abysmal no matter what direction he went.

"You're kidding," Warren grinned, his hair, for once, kept out of his face by the snow hat he had pulled down over his ears.

"No," Will went left. "Zack said it was a new alternative rock band, and Medulla made him drink the stuff."

Warren slapped the ball from Will's hands and spun taking the shot from where he was standing. The ball went cleanly through the hoop hung above the garage door.

"So now Zack is glowing purple," Warren rubbed his gloved hands together while Will went to retrieve the ball.

"Magenta thinks it's a great look for him," Will said, bringing the ball back to their designated half court.

"She would," Warren laughed. "So, is it going to wear off?"

"The nurse thinks so," Will made a fast break and managed to get around Warren this time. "She's not sure exactly how long it will take though."

"We should get him some purple hair dye," Warren tried to snatch the ball away, but Will took the shot and made it off the back board. "Then he wouldn't clash with himself so badly."

"That'd be great," Will caught the ball and passed it to Warren. "Then he and Magenta would match for the winter formal."

Warren laughed again, then sneezed.

"You cold?" Will cocked his head to the side, studying Warren.

It was still early, but it had gotten dark while they were playing, and the temperature was dropping quickly.

"I'm never warm," Warren dribbled the ball absently.

"You're kidding," Will frowned at him, momentarily forgetting the game.

"My normal temperature is 206.7," Warren took advantage of Will's distraction to get by him and make an easy lay-up. "Unless I'm powered up, it always feels cold to me."

"Well that sucks," Will caught the ball when Warren passed it to him.

"On the grand scale of things that suck, it's pretty minor," Warren shrugged.

"If you say so," Will took a shot from the middle of the driveway and missed.

Warren caught the rebound and put it through the hoop easily.

"Any carnage yet?"

Steve jumped guiltily at the sound of his wife's voice and let the curtain fall closed, turning on the couch to face her.

"No, not yet," he said, looking up at Josie, who had a smear of spaghetti sauce on her cheek. "Will is losing though."

"Will always looses at basketball," Josie shrugged. "Warren is better at it."

"I guess," Steve looked over his shoulder and back out the window.

Josie sighed and sat on the sofa next to him. "Warren Peace is not his father," she reached up to play with the hair at the nap of Steve's neck.

"I know," Steve made a face at her; that was exactly what Will kept telling him. "He's just so much like him."

"No, he's not," Josie flicked Steve's ear in annoyance. "He looks like him, but the similarities end there."

"He has his powers," Steve watched Will slip on the icy pavement and obviously uninjured, laugh.

Warren just shook his head and pulled him to his feet.

"Nice to know you've been paying such close attention," Josie said dryly.

Steve blinked and turned to look at her.

"Warren doesn't have his father's powers," Josie shook her head. "Barry is a pyrotech. Warren is a pyrokinetic."

Steve frowned at the subtle difference between a pyrotech, someone who created fire, and a pyrokinetic, someone who controlled fire. "He's a pyrotech too."

"So he has his father's powers and then some," Josie conceded. "That doesn't mean he'll use them the same way."

Will slipped again, and Warren dropped the ball to catch him.

"Our son is a klutz," Steve announced.

"I know," Josie kissed him on the cheek, accepting the change of topic. "He gets it from you."

"Luckily, he got my invulnerability too," Steve stretched an arm around her shoulders.

"Uh-huh," Josie stood up. "Why don't you go call the boys in? Dinner is ready."

"Warren's staying?" not that that was at all unusual, but he wished people would tell him these things.

"I would assume so," Josie shrugged. "I haven't asked."

"I'll ask," Steve said dutifully, then reached out and grabbed Josie by the apron strings, pulling her back to him. "You have spaghetti sauce on your face."

He proceeded to kiss it off her cheek.

"Thank you," she gave him a quick kiss in return. "Now go get the boys before Will dents our driveway."

Steve shivered at the cold blast of air when he opened the door. This was not the sort of weather he would have chosen for playing basketball in.

"Dinner," he called loudly enough to be heard over the bouncing ball and the boys talking.

They both broke off at once, and Will made a line for the door, but Warren hesitated.

"You want to stay for dinner Warren?" Steve asked.

"Come on Wren," Will seemed to sense Warren's hesitation even without turning. "It's spaghetti night."

As if that would make any difference, Steve thought dryly. Not only did Warren eat less than any teenager Steve had ever met, he was one of the least picky eaters Steve had ever known.

"Yeah, thanks," Warren said in answer to Steve's question, pretending to ignore Will as he always did when he called him "Wren."

Steve held the door open for both boys, then shut it safely behind them.