Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.
Title: A perfect place
Read on, oh faithful ones...
...
Warren pulled out a chair for Layla, tucking it back in as she sat down gracefully.
"I still don't get how you two can do that so flawlessly. Any time Will tries to push my chair in for me, either the table moves or he steps on my foot," Magenta said, rolling her eyes.
Beside her, Will flushed bright red. "It was one time!"
"It was three times, actually. Now, tell me all about it. Did he get on one knee? Was it sappy or romantic or both?" Magenta asked, eyes bright as she grinned at the silver ring with a ruby on Layla's left hand.
"It was definitely both," Layla said, laughing. "Warren got down on one knee, handed me a rosebud, and when the rose blossomed, the ring was inside."
"Oh, that's so romantic. When was the last time you did something romantic like that for me?" Magenta asked Will pointedly.
"Uh... We went on a hot air balloon ride together?" Will said, wincing.
"That was with me, Will, not Magenta," Layla said when Magenta looked confused.
"Oh. Right. Uh... We went to that fancy restaurant you like," Will said, his eyes wide and earnest.
"You stood me up to save some citizens and flirt with the reporter," Magenta replied.
"I think you should quit while you're this far behind, Stronghold. Stop digging yourself a deeper hole and look at the menu," Warren muttered, passing the menu to him.
Will did as instructed and practically hid behind the menu. Magenta shook her head and looked at her menu, not at all impressed with Will right then.
"Do you have a date set for the wedding yet?" Magenta asked once they'd given their orders to the waitress.
"I was hoping for a spring wedding," Layla said, smiling.
"I'll be back in a minute," Warren said, excusing himself to go to the bathroom.
As he suspected, Will followed after him sooner rather than later, whether to escape Magenta's cold shoulder or the conversation, Warren didn't know. Probably both.
"So you're really getting married?" Will asked.
"Yes," Warren replied shortly; he hated talking in general, but talking while trying to piss was worse. He supposed making small talk at the urinal was one of life's hardships he'd have to bear.
"The, uh, rose thing was cute. Didn't think you were the romantic type."
"Just because I'm not romantic in public, it doesn't mean I'm not romantic with Layla. Besides, that's not really how I proposed," Warren said, finally finishing urinating, zipping up and heading to the basins.
"I knew it! Well, how'd you propose then?" Will asked, finishing and following after him.
"I proposed at the Paper Lantern over dinner. The rose thing was true. I just didn't get down on one knee," Warren said, washing his hands a second time - a force of habit from his years of working at the Paper Lantern.
"Oh." Will seemed disappointed, then he grabbed Warren's forearm, his hands not really dry and leaving a wet patch on his jacket. "Look, can you both tone it down with the wedding stuff? I was planning on asking Magenta to marry me and I don't want it to look like I'm trying to one-up you guys."
Warren increased his body temperature slightly to get rid of the wet patch. "You're really planning on asking Magenta to marry you while on a double-date with your ex-girlfriend? Seriously, Stronghold, the amount of time it would take for you to think things through would save you from a lot of embarrassment later."
Will blinked, comprehension dawning. "Damn. What would you suggest then? I can't propose at a restaurant now, since you guys did that already."
"You honestly can't think of something Magenta would like?" Warren asked, wondering why he felt so surprised. "Take her out somewhere nice, don't leave halfway through to save the world, and ask her. Fucking hell, Stronghold, why do you want to marry her if you don't know what she likes? And if you say it's for the sex, I will set you on fire."
Will shrugged. "We've been dating for four years, I should probably propose before - "
"Don't finish that sentence, Stronghold. Seriously," Warren muttered under his breath, leaving before he had to listen to anything else.
...
"I was hoping for a spring wedding," Layla said, smiling.
Both she and Magenta vaguely noticed as Warren and Will left for the bathroom, Magenta already discussing floral arrangements and wedding venues.
"Ugh, I'm talking like it's my wedding, sorry. I'm sure you've got everything planned already: tell me everything," Magenta said with a grin.
"I honestly hadn't expected him to propose, but I've got a few ideas: the Botanical Gardens for the wedding, the Paper Lantern for the reception, and I'm hoping to find a perfect place for the honeymoon; with our work, it will likely be the last holiday we'll have for a some time. I'm thinking somewhere nice and hot."
"Warren's not hot enough?" Magenta teased, winking.
"Oh, plenty. But if it's hotter outside, he has a tendency to wear less," Layla admitted with a wicked smile.
Magenta laughed. "Please tell me you're going to take a million photos and share them with your best friend?"
"I don't think Warren would like that," Layla said, but grinned back anyway. Her grin faded to an urgent expression. "Do you have a tampon?"
"Sure thing," Magenta said, reaching back for her handbag to start digging through it. Damn tampons always seemed to hide in the crooks and corners right at the bottom of her bag.
Magenta found a tampon a second later and handed it over to Layla, who thanked her and popped it in her small clutch, leaving for the bathroom just as their boyfriends - well, boyfriend and fiancé - returned.
Warren seemed to be annoyed with Will for some reason, so Magenta tried to talk about the wedding instead. Layla hadn't asked her to be a bridesmaid yet, but as her best friend, she hoped she'd be asked. Maybe she'd even get to be Maid of Honour!
"Spring in the Botanical Gardens does sound beautiful for the wedding. Are you organising a guest list or seating arrangement for the reception?"
Warren looked up from his phone, slipping it back in his pocket, and realised that Magenta had asked him a question. "Oh, we're just going to have a small wedding. Family and friends, nothing big, so I don't think the seating arrangements will be a problem."
"That sounds nice. The Paper Lantern probably won't fit a huge crowd anyway."
"The Paper Lantern? Oh, of course, the reception," Warren said. "Well, it's where we had our first date, and where I proposed, so it seemed like the perfect place. We'd still have to discuss it with Mrs. Woo, but Layla always seems to charm her into getting what she wants," he said with a grin and shrug.
"More importantly, where are you planning on going for the honeymoon?" Magenta asked, grinning broadly; she'd heard Layla's idea and wanted to know if Warren had the same thoughts.
"I don't really care, as long as Layla's there," he replied, looking embarrassed when Magenta 'aww'ed at his response.
"Never thought I'd see the day: Warren Peace, whipped," Will said with a laugh.
Magenta elbowed him sharply and glared. "I swear, you're turning into your father more and more every day."
Will winced, rubbing his sore ribs. "Sorry, Maj."
"You shouldn't be apologising to me," Magenta said, raising an eyebrow.
"Right. Sorry, Warren. I was a jerk."
Warren nodded, though he looked relieved when Layla returned to the table a moment later. He wasn't great with accepting false apologies. Warren stood up as Layla neared their table and again, with flawless precision, he tucked her chair in as she sat down.
"What did I miss?" Layla asked brightly as Warren sat down again beside her.
"Warren was being sweet and Will was a jerk," Magenta said, rolling her eyes. "Oh, there's the food, thank goodness."
They were quiet as the food was served, Layla and Warren automatically thanking their waitress with Magenta and Will adding their thanks as well. The redheaded waitress seemed amused, her cheeks dimpling around her freckles, but she left once she had confirmed they didn't need their drinks refilled.
"I'd like to propose a toast," Warren said, taking up his glass a few bites into the meal.
Magenta raised her glass as well, nudging Will to do the same. Reluctant, and a bit annoyed that his dinner was being delayed, Will set his spoon down and picked up his glass.
"Love is like oxygen: you need it to survive. No, wait, that was last night's fortune cookie," Warren said, Layla laughing beside him.
Will tried to smile in response, but wondered if it was closer to his father's own grin: fake with too many teeth as he smiled at yet another victory.
"Thank you for saying yes and making me the happiest man alive. I hope I can spend every day of our life making you as happy as I feel now," Warren said, pressing a kiss to Layla's lips. "To Layla," he said, toasting and taking a deep drink.
Layla drank as well, smiling against the rim of her glass. Across from them, Will and Magenta echoed Warren's toast to Layla and drank politely.
With that done, their dinner continued, the conversation ranging from the upcoming wedding to their alter egos' day jobs. Warren still worked at the Paper Lantern, but also volunteered at the fire department; Layla worked at a charity she'd created soon after leaving Sky High; Magenta and Will were the newest Jetstream and the Commander as Shifter and Airborne respectively, and most of their time was spent defeating villains around Maxville and other nearby cities.
Will watched as Layla and Warren interacted, much more lovingly than he and Magenta had for some time now. They smiled at each other, Warren kissed Layla's cheek, whispered things to her, and just generally looked like a loving fiancé, while Layla returned his whispers, held his hand or touched his arm or leg to keep him settled. Warren wasn't so great in crowded places, but they still had dinner with Will and Magenta once a month, when Will's parents promised to cover the red phone and give him a night off. They were semi-retired now, but seemed to be just as in love with each other as Layla and Warren were, even after thirty-five years of marriage.
Will caught himself wondering if he had ever felt love as all-consuming as theirs. He liked Magenta, sure, and she made a great sidekick when he actually remembered to take her with him (he might have forgotten once or twice, and then stated he didn't want her to be harmed when she'd confronted him afterwards, trying to pull off the wounded puppy expression that worked so well on so many others). Will couldn't remember the last time he'd just kissed her or held her hand without prompting or it ending up in the bedroom. The sex was kind of amazing, though. He smiled at Magenta and moved across to kiss her, but she pulled away.
"You've got something on your mouth, don't you dare ruin my makeup when we've still got an hour of dinner and dessert to go, Will," Magenta said seriously, but she took his hand in her own a moment later.
Eating a steak one-handed was awkward and nigh on impossible, so they had to stop holding hands a moment later so Will could cut his steak and keep eating. Will almost felt relieved; his hand was getting sweaty. Layla and Warren were having no trouble with their food while holding hands, using their chopsticks expertly and picking up food like the chopsticks were an extension of their own fingers instead.
Will wondered if it was okay to hate your own friends now and then. His heart felt tight and he coughed, trying to breathe. Okay, that was probably a no. He breathed in deeply, his chest loosening again.
Beside him, Magenta coughed as well, her breathing sounding a bit more laboured and her face red. "Sorry. Too much pepper and chilli," she said, waving a hand in front of her face.
"Do you want a glass of milk? Or some bread?" Layla offered, looking concerned.
"No, no, I'll be all right," Magenta said, coughing again.
Around them, other diners were looking at their table, annoyed at the loud coughs. Layla and Warren were already out of their seats, looking confused and concerned. Will's eyes watered as he coughed again, and he vaguely wondered why Layla and Warren were acting as though they hadn't been seated at their table a moment ago.
Then his chest tightened again, harder this time, and Will coughed again to try to release the feeling constricting around his heart. It didn't help. He didn't even have any pepper in his meal, or chilli for that matter. He coughed again, reaching for his drink, only to realise that it was empty. The jug of water in the middle of the table was suddenly empty as well, though Will was certain it had been three-quarters full just a second ago, and there were drops of condensation as though the air around the glasses and jug had become very warm in a short amount of time.
Magenta coughed louder again, blood splattering onto the white tablecloth.
"Oh my goodness. This woman needs help!" Layla called, signalling to the restaurant staff.
People rushed over as Magenta collapsed on the floor, a mix of blood and vomit wrenching from her body. Her skin broke out in hives and a rash covered her face almost an instant later.
"What... what did you do?" Will asked, his head foggy, eyes blurry, and stomach churning.
Layla made her way around the table, crouching beside him and stealing Will's phone. "Oh, I just added some oleander to your drinks. It's only fatal if taken in large doses, and you've been given the largest dose I could create in such a short amount of time," she replied, sounding sweet and matter-of-fact.
If she said anything else, Will didn't hear it, because his stomach stopped churning long enough for him to vomit up the contents, his stomach clenching in agony the whole way through. He felt dizzy and he wondered if Magenta was even still alive. Will tried to look over to her, the light haloing around the people that surrounded them, at a distance but too curious for their own good. He tried to say something, but his heart was clenching again. Will realised that it was slowing, and each twist of pain was his heart trying to restart and pump more blood to his brain. His other limbs were failing and he collapsed on the floor completely.
"She's gone," a voice said, far too clear, and Will felt fingers pressed against his neck.
He wanted to call out, to tell whoever was trying to save him that he'd been poisoned, that his friends had poisoned them both, but the need to vomit took over instead. He threw up violently, and could taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, coppery and bitter. The halos of light around people were bright, too bright, and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Will felt his heart clench one more time and then it stopped completely, the world fading away to nothing.
"Let's get out of here before they're moved; I think the diarrhoea hit them both right at the end there," Warren said, shuddering.
Layla buried her head against his chest, trying hard not to laugh. She set Will's phone down on the table again, wiped clean of her fingerprints. Warren had sent a message earlier stating they wouldn't be able to make it, and while the initial message had been regarding a game that weekend, it was easily deleted to make it look as though they hadn't been at the dinner at all.
Warren shrugged off his jacket to reveal the same outfit that the other waiters were wearing and quietly cleared the table of Layla and his plates, chopsticks, and glasses with an expert hand. Around them, the diners and employees at the restaurant were too busy looking at the dead bodies on the floor that they didn't even notice another busboy clearing dishes.
Warren slipped his jacket back on as he left the restaurant, Layla waiting patiently at the front with their car by the kerb. Other diners had started to leave the restaurant as well, put off by the stench of vomit, blood, and diarrhoea. The police had been called and the owner of the restaurant desperately tried to keep their diners inside so they could provide statements to the police, though they only managed it by offering free meals to those who stayed.
The restaurant was one that provided old-style charm to its diners, including the fact that they didn't have security cameras. Besides, Craig looked lovely as a redheaded waitress, who would tell the police officers that the couple had been dining alone and by the time the police arrived, there would be no one around who remembered if the deceased couple had been dining with anyone else anyway. They might have saw someone, but the couple were known for having dinner with others, so they might have remembered that information from their last meal, as well.
The autopsy would show oleander poisoning, of course, there was no way around that aspect, and Josie and Steve would be distraught about their son and his girlfriend's deaths. With the evidence on Will's phone showing that Layla and Warren hadn't been at dinner with their friends, and the fact that the whole world knew about Airborne being the son of Jetstream and the Commander, the two semi-retired superheroes would determine that Will and Magenta had been poisoned by one of their old rivals instead.
...
Warren and Layla showed up to their friends' funeral in black. There were a few people there to support Jetstream and the Commander - the Mayor and his wife among the few - and some of Will's old friends from Sky High showed up as well, including Zach, Ethan, and Larry, and a few other people that Josie didn't know on sight, but suspected they might have been Magenta's friends.
Layla offered her condolences, voice soft and sorrowful, as she stood in front of them, Warren by her side. Warren offered his hand, silent in his sorrow. The priest called for their attention and Layla and Warren returned to their seats, Steve and Josie making their way to the front beside Mrs. Yolanda and her two boys.
When the funeral was over and people started to disperse, Josie held Steve as he sobbed against her. She gave brief nods to the people who tried to give their condolences or say goodbye, focusing on her husband's grief to help get him composed once more. The sooner he was all right, the sooner she could get home and grieve in private herself. After the wake, of course.
"Come now, dear. We need to go to the wake," Josie said, rubbing circles on Steve's back gently.
"Our son is dead, Josie. What's the point of going on? I'm invincible, but I couldn't even keep our son alive!" Steve sobbed, falling to his knees and clutching at the grass, leaving heavy imprints of his fingerprints behind.
Josie kneeled beside him, her hand pressed against his shoulder and the ground to steady herself. "The point is we find out who killed him and we make sure they can't hurt anyone else. Okay? That's why we need to go on," she said, her voice breaking and tears escaping despite herself.
Steve started sobbing again at the sight of his wife's tears, but eventually her words got through, and he nodded. Finally, he nodded, trembling as he stood up. "Okay, Josie."
Josie wiped at her tears quickly, sniffing and hoping her mascara was as waterproof as the labelling promised. Then she stood and guided her husband to their car, driving them home to the wake. People greeted them at the door, already holding plates of tiny sandwiches and paper cups with an assortment of drinks, and trying to offer condolences around mouthfuls.
Josie pushed down the feeling of disgust and anger that tried to overwhelm her, and gave a demure nod, not up to her usual 1000 watt smile. Steve didn't look great, oddly pale for someone with his power, and Josie led him up to their bedroom so he could sleep. She would have preferred the Secret Sanctum, especially with so many strangers in their house, but the lounge room was full of people so their access was effectively blocked. She didn't like feeling restricted in such a way and suddenly wondered if it would be rude to kick everyone out of the lounge room. Probably.
"Will you be all right, Steve?" Josie asked, concerned about how pale he still looked.
Steve shook his head, tears in his eyes. "Will you stay for a moment longer?"
Josie thought of the people downstairs, the thought of facing them too much at that moment, and she nodded. "Of course," she said, sitting beside him and holding his hand.
Steve closed his eyes to sleep, wishing the day was over already, and was just starting to doze off when he heard Josie's sharp gasp. He sat up abruptly, his head spinning along with the room. "What's wrong?"
"N-nothing. I thought... I just... I thought I saw Will," Josie said, blinking and wiping away her tears.
Steve sobbed again, sounding pained and Josie felt awful. The awful feeling sent shooting pains out from her stomach and she clutched at her body, hoping to ease the sensation.
There was a knock at their bedroom door and Josie forced herself to breathe through the pain, taking a long moment to control herself before she could call out. "Just a moment."
"It's me, Mrs. Stronghold," Layla replied. "People are asking for you and Mr. Stronghold," she added, sounding apologetic.
Josie sniffed and wiped at her tears. "I'll be downstairs shortly."
"Come on, Mum, you're totally making me look bad," Will whined.
Josie stiffened at the sound, surprised and, worst of all, hopeful. She looked down at Steve, who was breathing heavily and forcefully, his face twisted in pain. "Steve?" she asked, eyes wide. Then she doubled over fully as another lance of pain struck through her body.
Before she could say or do anything else, the bedroom door opened and Layla walked in with Warren, a few of their friends with her.
"We're... we're not up for company right now," Josie said, standing in front of her husband.
"Oh, we know that," Layla said, smiling brightly back at her. "Do you know how arsenic is made, Mrs. Stronghold?" she asked curiously.
"W-what?" Josie asked, more pain filling her and her knees giving way.
"Arsenic. It's made naturally through plants and soils, though it can be made faster with a power like mine," Layla said, still smiling sweetly. "Both of you stupidly kneeled on the grass at the funeral."
Josie tried to say something, but had to gasp for breath instead. Then, before her eyes, Will stepped out from the small throng of people.
"The pain you're feeling is going to get worse," Will informed them, his voice hard and cruel as he looked down at their hapless forms.
"Will? What... what happened to you?" Josie asked, eyes brimming with tears, as much from her emotion as the poison running through her body.
Behind her, Steve was gasping for air, his body starting to turn a sickly shade of blue.
Will smiled, broad and charming and cold. "I died."
Josie and Steve Stronghold died and standing in front of them, not moving to help or even provide an ounce of comfort, their son watched.
As their last gasps were drawn and the light faded from Josie and Steve's eyes, Zach burst out laughing. "Oh, man, stop it, you're killing me."
Craig snorted and switched back to his own form, grinning at Zach. "Want to go fuck with the mourners?"
"No. Stick to the plan," Layla said firmly.
"Now everyone get out; we've got a double-suicide to stage," Warren added.
Everyone other than Layla and Warren left the room, knowing that the world's two most beloved superheroes were dead.
"Ready?" Layla asked, looking to Warren.
"No, I think I need a minute," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Come on, the sooner we finish here, the sooner we can get out of these clothes."
Layla looked over Warren's suit-clad form appreciatively. The black suit included a vest, the three-piece fitted to his form, and a far stretch from his baggy and ill-fitting tux he'd worn at Homecoming all those years ago. "I completely agree," she said, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth.
Layla moved Josie up to the bed beside her husband, then draped their blanket over them and onto the floor. With that done, Warren's arms lit up and he set the bedspread on fire, watching as the flames encompassed the bed, flames licking up and over to the curtains. In the hallway, Craig had turned into Brian's form, climbing up the walls to remove the batteries from the smoke detector in the hallway.
Five minutes later, Wendy was outside screaming at the sight of the flames in the window, her screams drawing others outside to see the cause. A few people ran upstairs to try to help Josie and Steve, though the hallway was already burning away and thick acrid smoke filled the passageway. Others ran outside when they realised what was happening, and some were caught in place with vines and their mouths muffled with leaves.
In less than ten minutes, the Stronghold residence was completely aflame. Everyone stood outside, watching the house burn away as the fire department raced to the house, only to arrive just as the kitchen exploded in a ball of flame.
"The spinach puffs!" someone gasped, remembering the food they'd been warming in the gas oven ten minutes too late.
Warren snorted a laugh, burying his face against Layla's hair. She hid a smile and swiped at his cheek, smearing a streak of smoke and soot along his skin.
They stood together, watching as the fire department tried to salvage what was left of the building, far too late for the bodies already dead inside.
...
Brian Anderson smiled at the camera, brittle and far too tired. He doubted he'd win the Reporter's Winning Smile Award this year, though he couldn't really bring himself to care: it didn't feel like there wasn't much to smile about lately. "Chaos has been growing in strength lately, with another string of bank heists completed today, resulting in a loss of billions of dollars for several big-name banks. With today's heists, nearly every bank in the US has been robbed, so there isn't even a way for police or the Super Bureau to determine which bank the villains themselves use.
"No one has seen the Commander, Jetstream or their son, Airborne for months. Maxville's newest Mayor, Mayor Peace, who was sworn in after the late Mayor's recent death at the Stronghold realtor's house fire three months ago, has not released any statements about fighting off these villains. This is, of course, not too surprising due to her son's recent wedding to a local charity owner.
"As of yet, there haven't been any heroes willing to stand up to Chaos and their unstoppable tyrannical force."
There was a pregnant pause, as though Brian Anderson was challenging the remaining heroes to take up the cause on behalf of citizens worldwide. The heroes that remained were in hiding; while citizens didn't know what had happened to their beloved heroes, those in the super world knew exactly how the Commander, Jetstream, Airborne - and belatedly, Shifter - had been killed mercilessly by Chaos. They didn't want to face the same fates, no matter their own guilt.
"It seems clear that Chaos' takeover of Maxville has only just begun. I wonder whether they will stop when they have complete control, or if they will continue across the rest of the world. Even then, will the world be enough?" Brian Anderson asked.
Layla rolled her eyes and turned off the satellite TV. Behind her, Warren chuckled, his fingertips running along her bare ribs. They were silent for a moment, looking out of their French doors to the bright day outside, sunshine playing on the clear blue water where their private tropical beach beckoned.
The island itself had been a surprise acquisition by their friends after several successful bank heists. As far as Layla was concerned, it was the best wedding present they could have ever received, and she sighed contently at the idea of spending another ten days alone with Warren on their island honeymoon.
"What do you think, hippie? Maxville, the world, then the rest of the universe?" Warren asked, his breath and words warm against her cheek.
Layla laughed brightly, leaning back against Warren's chest, taking up his hand to kiss his knuckles. "It sounds like a perfect place to start to me."
...
The end. Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!