Disclaimer: No, I am not the creator of Sky High. If you recognize it, it's not mine.
He ends up staying over at her apartment that night, and she wakes him up with a piping-hot cup of coffee and a bagel. She's been up for a while - or, well, she's been up in her moment for a while, even though she only woke up next to him a few minutes ago by the clock.
He notices that she's been out for a run, and showered, and dressed, just like she notices that he gulps his boiling coffee like it's water.
"Careful," she says, laughing, "Wouldn't want you to burn yourself."
He rolls his eyes. It only makes her chuckle louder.
"So what's yours?" He only asks after he finishes the coffee, and she pauses from where she is putting her hair up to meet his eyes in the mirror. She debates showing him, then looks away.
"I blink," she says, going back to her hair.
"Blink?" He's confused, it's clear, but she just shrugs. She's not sure how to explain it.
"I stop time."
"You're a tempopath?" He's impressed, far more impressed than he ought to be. Tempopaths are rare, people who can control Time.
"Not really," she says. "I can't go back or forward, and I can't slow it down or speed it up. I've got nothing but a pause button."
It's why Boomer made her a sidekick. That, and - other things. She didn't make a good showing for herself.
"Still." Warren seems determined to be impressed. Maybe it's just because he wants to get back into her pants.
And he does, eventually. He's too pretty to turn down, and too good at sex, even when they're both sober. They go out often, and they sleep together more often than not, and they text daily, and she doesn't realize that they're dating until he casually drapes his arm around her and introduces her as his girlfriend.
She smiles through that, and through the rest of the night, but when they're in bed that night she does not let it go.
"Girlfriend?" Her voice is dry.
He turns over to look at her. She keeps looking at the ceiling.
"Yeah?" He wouldn't sound unsure to anyone else, but she's spent enough time with him by now to know that he's not as confident as his tone would have her believe. Maybe it's the way he's reached out a hand to play with her hair.
She is silent, mulling it over. He waits.
"Girlfriend," she says again, thinking about it.
She narrows her eyes at the word, but it doesn't bother her as much as it should.
She shrugs, turning to face him on the bed. "Might as well," she says, but she kisses him softly to let him know she's not mad. How could she be mad? He's as kind as he is handsome, and he always tells her when he's on call.