Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Sky High or any of its characters.
It isn't the first time she's used her powers around him, but it's the first time she's brought him with her. Usually, he sees only the after effects of her moments, when she's sweaty from a run or her hair is suddenly dry or she's up at three in the morning, perfectly rested.
This time, though, he wakes to a perfectly silent world, with only his girlfriend reading a book beside him, and he knows immediately what has happened.
"How long?" His voice is raspy, and his chest hurts like hell, but he can breathe again.
She looks up at him, eyeing his bandages critically and deciding that he probably hasn't healed enough to get up yet.
"You've been out for a few days, I think," she says, putting her book down to grab her instruments for another check-up.
"The clock?"
She shrugs.
"A minute, maybe. I'll probably have to cut us back in soon. I've never held one longer than a day or two."
A nod, and she's pleasantly surprised with how he's healing.
She puts a hand gently on his chest, centers herself, and blinks. Sound rushes back in like a thunderclap, and Warren winces. He was out of it enough when she did it before that he didn't notice.
"You get used to it," she says, blinking again, and suddenly it's silent again.
He shakes his head, looking at her, and she runs a hand down his bandages, soft and gentle, eyes downcast. He can tell she is upset, and he braces himself for her to blow up at him.
All she says, though, is-
"I'm glad you pulled through."
It makes him wince again, because that tells him exactly how close he was to something awful.
"Mira-" He clears his throat, tries again. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't think it would be this bad."
"You're fucking lucky I knew how to fix you," she snaps, snatching her hand away from him, clenching it into a fist. "Asshole, did you think what it would fucking do to me if you fucking bled out on my own damn carpet?"
Her hand is in a fist because it is shaking. Now that she's sure he isn't going to die, she's furious again.
He flinches back from her, and she stands in a huff. They are the only two living things in the entire world right now, and he can hear every muttered 'why don't I just kill you and save myself the fucking trouble' as she paces up and down her quiet apartment.
He wants to go up to her and hug her, keep her still until she breaks down like he knows she wants to, but even shifting slightly makes him gasp in pain.
She turns at the sound, brow knitted in just as much concern as anger.
"Sit still, asshole, or you'll fuck up my bandages."
Still, she comes back over to check them, make sure he can't hurt himself, and he grabs her hand before she can lift it off his chest. The movement makes him wince, but he holds on.
She stills, looking at him.
"I'm sorry, Mira."
She looks away, but not before he sees the yawning fear in her eyes.
"Hey," he tugs her hand a little, getting her attention. "Look at me, Mira. I'm nearly indestructible. I've healed from much worse than broken ribs before."
She shakes her head, muttering,
"Doesn't matter, you idiot, you were still dying in my apartment."
He smiles, though, because he knows this means she cares. He tugs her hand again, and she takes one look at his grin and shakes her head, lips thin in anger and worry but also to keep herself from grinning back.