Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.

Read on, oh faithful ones...

...

Chapter Forty Seven

...

Warren was as impatient for his shift to end tonight as he had been the night before. The reasons were as different from each other as chalk and cheese, of course. Tonight he would be able to spend time with Layla, for what felt like the first time in months.

The restaurant was finally empty of customers; he had cleared every table, washed every dish, glass, and piece of cutlery that had been used over the course of the night; Warren had even completed a deep clean of the stovetop, oven and rangehood since they had inspectors coming the next day. Now he was sitting on the bench in the staff area, impatiently watching the clock as the last twelve minutes of his shift ticked by. Warren was already out of his apron and had his bag slung over his shoulder, ready to head straight for the door the second his shift was over. Eleven minutes and counting...

"Warren!" Kim called. "We have customers."

"What?!" Warren asked with a snarl.

"Customers. Get your apron on, you're still working!" Kim replied, not looking at all perturbed by Warren's tone or expression, and heading straight back into the restaurant.

Warren cursed under his breath, digging in his bag for his apron. Maybe if he took long enough, these 'customers' would get so annoyed they'd leave? More likely, Kim would be the one annoyed: he hated it when the staff were lazy.

"Fuck," Warren cursed again, then grabbed his notepad and pen, heading into the restaurant.

His last hope that perhaps it had been Layla and Frieda, and Kim was pranking him, fell completely when he saw the group of five adults, all seated at a table and talking to each other instead of looking at their menus. He should've known: Kim didn't have a sense of humour.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked the group, restraining himself from looking over at the clock hanging on the wall.

"Oh, my. Well, aren't you handsome?" one of the women asked, smiling up at him with red lips and white teeth. Her gaze and smile looked hungry and Warren had a ridiculous thought about cougars.

The man beside her glowered between the woman and Warren, and he noticed the matching wedding rings on their hands. Feeling uncomfortable to say the least, Warren moved so he was out of the couple's reach. As he waited, it became obvious that the group was tipsy, or perhaps well on their way to drunk; one man was trying to read the menu upside down.

"We're contemplating the banquet, but can we swap the honey chicken for orange duck?" one of the men asked. "Also, Dee is allergic to sesame, so can she have the chicken and corn soup while the rest of us have the black sesame soup?" he asked, nodding to the woman who had flirted with Warren.

"The banquet is for eight people. It takes more than two hours to cook and serve," he added.

"Hmm. What about banquet number two? That's only for six people. You can eat for two, can't you?" the man asked one of his companions, laughing and elbowing him.

"That banquet option takes more than an hour and a half," Warren said.

"Which one can you have ready in less than fifteen minutes then?" another man asked snidely.

"All of the banquets take more than fifteen minutes; they're banquets."

One of the men scoffed. "As if you don't just have everything back there ready and waiting. Can't you just go and heat it up?" he sneered.

Warren wondered if lighting these people on fire would land him in Maxville Super Penitentiary. Then, as the cougar reached around her husband to pinch his ass, Warren decided it would be worth the jail time.

Just as he was gearing up to set his arms on fire, the bell on the door tinkled, indicating more customers were coming inside. Warren shot a glare over at them, his angry expression fading instantly when he realised it was Layla and Frieda.

"Are you almost ready, dear? Your dear Grandpapa is waiting and you did promise him you'd be there for his 90th birthday party," Frieda called.

"I... I know. These... people arrived and are asking for a banquet," Warren replied, still on edge and not entirely sure what was going on, but hoping it would get him the hell out of there. "I'll have to be late, sorry."

"Oh, he has his grandfather's party to go to," one of the women murmured to her companions, eyes wide and expression downturned. "I missed my daddy's birthday party once, and then he died," she said, starting to sob her words.

"What if his grandfather dies?" another woman asked.

"Ninety is pretty old," a man added solemnly, two of the group nodding in agreement.

"Well, I'm hungry, and I want to stay," the cougar said, sniffing. "We're paying customers; who cares about his grandfather?"

"Mr. Kim? These people haven't ordered and the restaurant's been closed for two minutes now," Layla said, smiling at the man through the kitchen's serving window.

Kim looked from Layla to Warren and the drunk group, then nodded. If there was one thing that Kim hated more than his staff being lazy, it was customers who were lazy. Especially when the restaurant was closed and he had inspectors to worry about. "Out! All of you out!" he called, coming out of the kitchen to shoo the group out of their seats and herd them towards the door.

The group left, exclaiming that 'they'd never been treated like this in their lives' and 'just wait until we leave reviews on Yelp!' among other things. The cougar slipped a business card into Warren's apron pocket on her way out, sashaying her hips along the way.

Kim ushered Warren, Layla and Frieda outside as well, not wanting anyone in the restaurant now that it was clean. He locked the door behind them for good measure and turned off the lights. Frieda laughed all the way back to the car, and Layla walked with Warren as he pulled his apron off for the second time that night. The woman's business card floated down to the ground and Layla picked it up, frowning.

"What's this?" Layla asked.

"That blonde woman gave me her business card. She pinched my ass too," he muttered, frowning. "She had sharp nails and she was sitting right beside her husband."

Layla looked from the business card to the direction of the citizens where they were still trying to get into their car while tipsy.

"What are you thinking, hippie?" Warren asked, feeling the vine brand around his wrist spinning wildly.

"Lots of things that mostly involve crushing the car while she's in it," Layla replied.

Warren smirked and pulled Layla close, pressing a kiss to her mouth. "One of her friends said she's allergic to sesame; would that suffice?"

"A small allergic reaction? Not really, but maybe... the air conditioning unit would do," Layla replied, threading her fingers between Warren's and squeezing as she concentrated on the cars.

Between their hands, the business card set alight, the ashes drifting down to the pebbled ground below.

Layla breathed out as she completed her task: small sesame seeds were now sprouting within the car's air conditioning unit and would continue to grow until it was filled completely.

"Ready to go home?" Frieda called from the car.

"Ready," Layla replied sweetly, tugging on Warren's hand to lead him to the car.

...

Warren slept with Layla in his arms, her body flush up against his and his hands wound around her torso comfortably. He slept and dreamed of the five people from the restaurant, their laughter and chatter as they drove through the city streets of Westville, heading for the next town where the nightlife was more easily found.

The blonde woman and her husband were arguing; she hadn't been as subtle about pinching Warren's ass or slipping him her business card as she'd obviously thought she had been. The man was driving, turning towards the backseat every now and then when someone decided to comment on their argument, and the car swerved to the middle of the road. He turned his attention back to the road, swerving back to the right side of the road just as a truck passed them, the horn blaring.

"You idiot! You almost killed us!" his wife yelled, eyes wide and red, her breathing laboured and her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

"We're fine, shut up," he snapped, though his heart was pounding just as wildly.

The car slipped into silence, the three in the back of the car feeling awkward and the two in the front angry at each other.

The car continued along the road, the body heat and breath from five passengers warming the interior of the car until the windows were covered in condensation and a sheen of mist.

"Turn the air conditioner on, would you? I can't see a damn thing," the man in the back said, rubbing at the window with his sleeve.

The man driving sighed and pressed the button for the air conditioner, then turned on the windshield wipers in case that would help as well. It didn't, and oddly enough, neither did the air conditioner. It spluttered and although they could all hear the rush of air, they couldn't feel it, nor did the windows clear up.

"What the hell?" the man muttered, his wife flipping the air conditioning vent up and down, frowning.

"Maybe turn it up?" one of the women suggested.

The man rolled his eyes. "Sure, that will work," he muttered, but his wife glared at him and turned the air conditioning dial to the highest setting.

Slowly, air filtered out, and she smirked at her husband smugly. "That did work. Good idea," she said, looking back to her friend.

Conversation returned to the car, the inhabitants discussing their day out, complaining about the service at their lunch, the awful movie they'd seen, the miserable weather, and quickly skipping over the horrible service at the Chinese restaurant lest the married start arguing again. Within a few minutes, the blonde wife started coughing loudly.

"Geez, die quietly, would you?" her husband muttered, peering out into the darkness as his headlights flickered. He frowned, turning the headlights on to the flood lights so he could see through the mist that shrouded the cold night.

His wife continued to cough, miserable and wheezing. He glared at her, ready to tell her to shut up again, but then he saw her face. She was red and blotchy, her face swollen and eyes red and puffy.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, but was promptly distracted from his wife as the car gave a lurch and he struggled to keep them on the road.

The engine churned and wheels screeched like they were caught on something heavy. They swerved out into the middle of the road, then the headlights turned off completely, and the car itself stopped. He desperately tried to turn the ignition on again, listening to his wife's wheezing gasps and the sound of the engine spluttering for no damn reason before dying with an awful wheezing noise that sound just like his wife.

Great, it was the middle of the night, and they were stranded in the middle of the road, stuck at the bottom of a hill. Thinking about the exorbitant fee he'd have to pay for a tow truck and a mechanic to fix whatever the hell was wrong with his car, he muttered under his breath as he tried to open the door.

It seemed to be stuck and wouldn't budge, even when he pushed all of his weight against it. In the back of the car, one of the men started to gasp for air, his pollen allergies playing up. The other man turned the torch app on, shining it between the two gasping passengers, both of their eyes leaking and their faces splotchy. His wife was turning a sickly shade somewhere between red and purple, which meant she was having an allergic reaction, though to what he had no idea.

Maybe that waiter had had sesame oil on his ass? he thought with a sneer.

"What the fuck is going on?" one of the women cried out, frantically trying to get out of the car herself and failing, as if a thick bar was stopping the door from opening.

Over the hill, they could see the bright halo of an approaching car. No, it wasn't a car, it was too loud for that. It was a truck.

The truck driver had no way of seeing the car, the fog obscuring everything at the bottom of the hill, and within seconds, the car was careening off the side of the road. It smashed into a tree, and in less than ten seconds, it had burst into flame with the occupants trapped inside.

...

Layla woke with a smile. She'd had such a pleasant dream. She turned in Warren's arms, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder, her lips curving into another smile. "Morning."

"Morning, hippie. Why're you so happy at... six on a Sunday?" Warren groaned, looking over at her clock.

"I had a great dream about that rude group who were at the restaurant last night. Their car broke down and - "

"Was hit by a truck," Warren said, his voice and expression unlike she'd heard or seen before.

Layla blinked and frowned at him. "You dreamt it too?"

"I don't know that it was a dream, hippie." At her confused look, he continued, "You know where all of your plants are, don't you? The aloe vera you got for Ethan?"

"His mother has it by the back door," Layla replied. "But I've seen that."

"Okay, where did my mother put the daisy you grew for her? You haven't seen that, have you?"

"Well, no... it's in her bedroom, on the other bedside table," Layla said, surprised. "But what's that got to do with the dream?"

"You know where all of your plants are at any given time and just because you were asleep, it doesn't mean that this one was any different," Warren said.

"You mean... I killed those people?" Layla asked, eyes wide.

"No, we did. That fire wasn't because of the impact, y'know: cars don't usually burst into flames when they crash, that's just Hollywood."

Layla sat up and looked at Warren, surprised. "You did that for me, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "It was either that or have them survive and come to the restaurant to complain or hit on me again," Warren said, wincing. "Besides, the fire burnt away any evidence of your plant on both their bodies and the car itself."

Layla wasn't entirely sure how she felt hearing the words 'their bodies'. Sure, she knew she was no longer cut out to be a hero anymore, but she honestly hadn't expected to be a murderer before the age of twenty.

"You okay, hippie?" Warren asked, feeling her turmoil of emotions from his wrist.

"I don't know. Are you?"

He shrugged. "I'm not going to admit that I like the idea they're all dead, but they were assholes."

"So's half of the population."

Warren smirked. "We can deal with them later," he said.

Layla laughed, clamping her hands over her mouth quickly at the sound. Warren rolled his eyes and tugged her hands free. "Just admit that they were assholes who deserved what they got; you'll feel better."

"They were assholes who deserved what they got," Layla repeated. "I don't feel better."

"Okay, why not?" Warren asked, moving to sit up.

Layla sat up beside him, curling up against his chest. She didn't think she could bring herself to admit what she was truly feeling, so instead she asked, "What if they didn't deserve it? What if they were good people who were just having a really bad night?"

"Do you want to find out?" Warren asked, reaching for his phone.

Layla nodded in response, though she didn't really care. Warren looked up the morning Maxville Metropolis News - Car crash kills five people in overnight collision; weather supers to blame? - and scanned the list of names of the deceased.

He copied and pasted the list then sent it on to Ethan, asking him to find out who they were and, more importantly, if they had any dirt on them. Ethan replied that he'd research them that afternoon once he was home from church.

"I've got Ethan looking into it. Do you want to stay in here and obsess over it, or do you want to be distracted?" Warren asked with a grin.

"You're really not worried about this?" Layla asked.

"Worried? No. There's nothing to link their deaths to us, there's no way anyone will know we did anything, and my father had already killed fifteen people by the time he was my age, so it's not even that big of a deal."

"Comparing yourself - us - to your father isn't exactly reassuring, Warren," she replied, hoping that the comparison wouldn't continue to their own fates in cells beside Baron Battle.

"I set shit on fire, hippie, I don't exactly have the same world view as others. Setting the building on fire on Friday was going to have actual consequences for the people inside, or did that escape your notice?"

"Of course it didn't, but I knew they'd be saved then. This is different: we actually killed people last night."

"Are you backing out on this?" Warren asked incredulously.

"No! I honestly thought there'd be a bit more time between us being evil and us actually killing people. I didn't think it would just happen overnight. Literally!"

"It's death, not a surprise party. You should know that better than anyone," Warren said.

Layla's eyes flashed green and she glared at him fiercely. "Don't you dare bring my mother into this, Warren."

"You're having second thoughts, admit it!" he snapped.

"I'm not!"

"Then why do you sound like you regret it?!"

"Because it didn't last long enough!" she yelled in return, her chest heaving.

In the room around them, several plants had grown up to the ceiling, as fierce and menacing as the green glow of Layla's eyes.

Warren's anger faded as soon as her words registered. "What?"

"It didn't last long enough," Layla repeated, jaw clenched as she finally admitted the truth. "I don't give a shit if they were good or bad, or somewhere in between; I wanted it to last, to make them suffer, and they were dead in less than ten seconds," she snarled.

Warren almost laughed, but wisely refrained. He was just relieved that Layla wasn't backing down on their plans. He held out a hand for her. "We'll have plenty of more people to practice on. Like you said: half the population's made up of assholes."

The plants returned to their original sizes and Layla sighed, taking Warren's hand and curling up against his chest. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. You really thought I was having second thoughts?"

"What else could you expect when you're asking shit about if they're good people who were just having a really bad night?" he mimicked, rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry for yelling too," Warren added, threading their fingers together.

Layla wondered if she should text Ethan to tell him not to worry about researching those people, but decided that she was kind of curious about who they were after all. She faced Warren and smiled briefly. "How were you planning on distracting me? Y'know, so I wasn't going to obsess over it all day?"

Warren grinned and tugged her close, pressing a heated kiss against her mouth. He moved to bite at her earlobe, then pressed a hot kiss against the pale column of her neck, sucking and biting the curve between her neck and shoulder. Warren slipped a hand under Layla's thin, worn shirt, her chosen pyjamas for the night, and cupped her breast, squeezing firmly. He kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers, and brushed the pad of his thumb against her pebbling nipple. He barely let her respond or get used to one thing before he was moving on to the next. Warren's hands wandered down her body, caressing Layla's shoulders and down her arms, then squeezing both of her breasts firmly before he stroked the sensitive underside of her breasts with his knuckles. He moved on to stroke along her ribs before gripping her hips, her body small beneath his, his hands splayed across her skin and leaving warmth behind.

Layla's body arched up deliciously against his, she'd moved to kneel in front of him so she could press even more of her body against his, her chest heaving and her fingers clinging to his shoulders firmly. She was biting her lip, keeping the soft pleasured noises behind her teeth, and Warren wanted to set them free, wanted to hear those noises just for him, hear her cry out his name in ecstasy. He breathed in shakily at the thought of Layla screaming her release, of her body clenching around him tightly, the way she'd done in the tunnel at The Hive.

Warren ran his hands along her body once more, slowing his progress until he could feel her rapid pulse beneath his fingertips. He pressed a few hot, lingering kisses along the curve of her shoulder before moving up to whisper in her ear. "Like that."

"Huh?" Layla asked, breathless and confused.

Warren grinned and kissed her lips, leaning back against the wall. He drew Layla in closer so she was pressed up flush against his body. Layla wriggled a bit until she was comfortable, straddling his waist, one hand clutching his bicep and the other stroking along his abs. As per usual, he'd forgone a shirt for bed and was wearing a short pair of briefs so he wouldn't overheat, so his hardening response to their making out was very obvious beneath Layla. She pulled away from the pattern she was making on his neck and looked down to where she could see the waistband of his boxers peeking out.

"Take them off," she said, sounding breathless.

"I thought you wanted to wait?" Warren prompted.

After his mother's questions, he'd actually talked with Layla about sex and whether she did identify as asexual or not, since he hadn't asked when they first started dating. Once she'd stopped laughing at the thought of Nina bombarding her son with questions about sex and sexualities, Layla had told Warren that she was on the pill, and while she wasn't asexual, she still wanted to wait at least six months before they had sex.

The reasoning had been simple enough: she didn't want them to start thinking with their genitals instead of their brains, especially if they were planning on changing the world together. Layla didn't want their relationship to jeopardise their future. They could still date, make out, do the usual things they did, but she had to be certain that they'd last, not just as friends, or as boyfriend and girlfriend, or even if they were good together in bed. More important than any of that were their plans for the future. They couldn't ruin that before they'd even begun.

"Just because you're taking off your underwear, it doesn't mean we're going to have sex," Layla replied.

Warren just lifted his hips with Layla still sitting on his lap, and awkwardly tugged his underwear off. "Happy?"

Layla scooted back slightly until she was sitting on his legs. She looked at his cock, inspecting it curiously from several different angles. "Can I touch it?"

"It won't bite," he replied with a smirk, though he clutched his hands tightly in the sheets in anticipation.

"Good to know," Layla deadpanned, rolling her eyes. She still looked apprehensive as she reached out to touch his cock, and Warren let go of the sheets to take her hand.

"It's all right," he said, pressing a kiss to the heel of her palm. "Start on my thighs, work your way to my dick, if you want." Warren put Layla's hand on his thigh, watching her as she slowly started to stroke and draw patterns on his thigh, her hand stroking across his hipbones gently.

Warren watched Layla intently, her expressions as she elicited a noise at his sensitive spots, the way her gaze kept returning to his cock every now and again, the blush that formed on her cheeks. She continued to touch and stroke him, even going so far as to brush up against his balls before withdrawing. He felt his stomach clench at the gentle touch, and she smiled, pressing her fingertips against his clenched muscles, dancing along them lightly. Warren couldn't resist pulling Layla in to kiss her then, her hands going to his shoulders as she returned the kiss heatedly. They pulled away a moment later, his eyes dark and hers a warm brown.

"Do you want to keep going?" he asked, voice rough.

Layla licked her lips and slowly shook her head. "Not right now. Sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, hippie. That was fucking intense," Warren breathed, grinning his heart melting grin at her.

Smiling brightly in return - several daisies and roses unfurled and brightened up on the other side of the room - Layla kissed him briefly before getting off the bed. Warren missed her warmth almost immediately and he resisted the temptation to pull her back to him.

"Frieda will probably be up here soon. Do you want to use the bathroom first?" Layla offered, indicating to the ensuite.

"All right. Thanks, hippie," Warren said, standing and gathering his clothes.

He kissed her once more before heading towards the ensuite, not bothering to cover up, his cock hard and aching. Warren grinned, knowing that Layla was checking out his ass. He looked over his shoulder and winked at her, smirking outright when he saw her blush.

Warren closed the ensuite door behind him, feeling as though he'd stepped straight into a tropical oasis, plants covering nearly every spare piece of wall and tile. The shower itself was relatively free of plants, though one or two vines were curling above the shower curtain rod. Turning the taps for the shower, Warren thought of the plain and bare room that Layla had kept while at her Great Aunt's, obviously not feeling as comfortable or free as she did here with Frieda. Even parts of Frieda's house had plants growing through it, though Layla was careful not to let her plants go near anything valuable.

Using Layla's shower products was going to result in him smelling like flowers for the rest of the day, Warren surmised, though he found that he really didn't mind the thought.

It would remind him of Layla and her body, her kisses, her inquisitive and curious expressions as she spent almost half an hour touching him. He licked his lips and washed his hair. Then, deciding he needed to get off sooner rather than later, Warren used the body gel as a lubricant to have a quick wank, a soft groan escaping. He finished washing himself, turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower, accepting the towel from the flowering honeysuckle vine.

Stepping out of the bathroom, dried and dressed, Warren saw that Layla had made the bed and was sitting on it, scrolling through her phone. He walked over and set his things beside her, startling Layla, a vine snapping out and curling around his wrist immediately.

She winced when he let out a soft grunt of surprise. "Sorry."

"You've been working on being more aware of your surroundings, I take it?" Warren asked as the vine slid off his wrist, the thorns dropping away harmlessly. "Not exactly the route I would've taken, but it's effective."

Layla smiled. "I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from concentrating and drowning out everything else, so this is the alternative. Though, perhaps a warning would be better," she mused, looking at the vine before letting it return to a seed.

"I'd appreciate it," Warren said with a grin. "Come on, shower and we can go out for the day."

"Where did you have in mind?" Layla asked, hopping off the bed.

"The Hive; I want to see the changes you've made before everyone else gets to see them next weekend."

Layla pressed a kiss to his cheek, then headed to the ensuite with a laugh. "Don't lie; I know you're just worried about your kitchen."

Well, she wasn't entirely wrong about that, Warren thought as the ensuite door shut behind her.

...

"How exactly did you redecorate?" Warren asked, seeing that the kitchen was safe. "Besides the curtains," he added, noticing the thick vines hanging down from the top of the kitchen window and doors.

Layla grinned and headed towards the back door. Warren followed, watching curiously as Layla brushed a hand against the vines gently. They parted easily, soundlessly, and as Layla stepped aside, Warren's jaw dropped at the sight before him.

The bathroom had been a small tropical oasis, but this? This was Eden, a literal paradise on Earth. Warren opened the doors and headed outside, looking at the flowers and growing trees, the shrubs and ferns, the creepers and vines that teased and twirled along the roof and a side wooden lattice framework that hadn't been there the last time he'd visited. The day outside was sunny and clear and the scent of flowers was heavy in the air. Warren was surprised he hadn't smelled them coming up to the Hive. The trees were still too short to be seen over the top of the Hive, so that wasn't as much of a surprise, though Warren was sure that Layla was keeping them at a smaller height until the front trees finished growing to hide the ones here at the back. Warren turned to Layla, still in shock and awe at the amount of effort she'd put into this in just one night.

Layla was smiling brightly, looking so happy at his reaction. "There's more," she said eagerly, taking his hand and leading him through the small forest along a path that only she and the wildlife knew.

Warren looked up and around them at every thing he could possibly see, the trees stretching their branches down to brush leaves against him curiously, flowers unfurling as they walked past with Layla practically skipping in joy. Warren turned his attention back to the forest when he realised it was getting darker; for all that the trees weren't tall, they were certainly dense. Looking over his shoulder, Warren saw that he couldn't even see the Hive anymore, though they hadn't been walking for that long. Layla squeezed his hand gently, then came to a slow stop.

Warren looked away from one fairly inquisitive apple tree - several leaves were curled in his hair - to focus on their surroundings. Warren was almost positive he could hear the trickle of a stream nearby, though he wasn't entirely sure how Layla had managed to create that in the forest as well. There were more fruit trees around, but Layla was standing in front of a weeping willow, which stood out from the other trees easily. He frowned at the sight of it, so different to the tall conifers and fruit trees they'd walked past. Layla grinned at his reaction and brushed her fingertips along the long drooping branches softly, the curtain parting for her immediately.

"Is that a bedroom?"

"Well, there is a bed, but it's not a bedroom. It's somewhere secluded and private for us to get away. The forest will distract anyone other than you or me, so this is just for us. I mean, the Hive is ours too, obviously, but when it's full with people, I figured you'd like somewhere to come and sit, or sleep, or... I'm babbling," Layla said, clamping her hands over her mouth promptly when she saw Warren's look of amusement.

Warren tugged her hands away and kissed her lips firmly. "I love it."

Layla let out a sigh of relief and kissed him, her arms winding around Warren's neck. Warren lifted Layla and held her against his body, taking a step back to steady himself when she wrapped her legs around his waist a moment later. Layla pulled away from their kiss to look down at Warren, then she grinned, the only warning before a thick-leaved fern grew up behind Warren, cushioning him.

"Warn me next time, hippie," Warren muttered, pulling her down to settle on his waist properly.

Layla wriggled to get comfortable, tilting her head when Warren groaned at the friction. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. Just... distract me for a bit. I heard a stream earlier; how'd you get that here?"

Layla brightened up and started talking about the forest's ecosystem, the water table, and the small trench she had created between the trees to encourage the water to turn into a natural stream. The storm the night before had added to the underground water table and helped create the stream properly.

"It's effectively man-made, and without regular rainfall, it's not likely that it will stay there. In summer, it will probably turn into a muddy patch at most," Layla lamented, sighing.

"You can't ask Wendy to help?"

"I think it'd be too exhausting for her to keep a storm cloud up here constantly," she replied, looking up to the tree canopy overhead.

Warren considered it for a moment, but decided not to press the issue. They had plenty of time to figure out things like that, after all. Warren tugged Layla so she was pressed flush against his body. Before she could do or say anything, he kissed her firmly, moving down the pale column of her throat to bite at the curve of her neck, his teeth blunt and bruising.

Layla's gasp had Warren pulling away almost immediately, but then he belatedly realised the feeling swirling around his vine-tattooed wrist wasn't anger or upset or some form of disgust; it was pleasure. Warren looked at Layla, fascinated to see the blush across her cheeks and the goosebumps that trailed up her arms.

"You liked that?"

Layla's enthusiastic nod was answer enough. She grinned and pulled Warren in close to kiss him firmly. He kissed her back eagerly, only a little surprised when Layla's hands slipped under his shirt, her hands splayed across his back. Warren felt Layla smile against his lips and then her nails scored lines along his back, his whole body shuddering at the pain that blossomed.

"Good?" Layla asked, pulling away to look at him, her lips swollen and red.

"Good," Warren agreed, drawing her close in again to kiss and bite at her lips, their vine and fire tattoos spinning wildly around their wrists.

Eventually, they had to stop for air and they pulled away slowly, kissing gently between breaths. Warren looked over at the bed, curious as to how it would feel lying on a bed made from trees, ferns, and an abundance of leaves. Layla saw his curious expression and led him over to the bed. They settled down on the leafy mattress, a blanket of light ferns covering both of them in the cool forest air.

Warren felt somewhat awed that Layla had created this place just for them, fruit trees surrounding them to keep them fed and a stream to keep them watered. While he knew it might have been for an ounce of privacy, Warren also knew that this small oasis was also a hiding place for them, should anything happen that required them to hide away.

Warren looked over at Layla and she smiled at him in return, making his heart beat a ridiculous pattern in response. "Thank you for this, hippie," Warren said, pressing one final kiss to her addicting mouth.

Layla snuggled in closer to his chest. "Any time," she murmured, sighing contentedly as he wrapped an arm around her.

Despite it being the middle of the day, they slept soundly, both knowing they were completely hidden and safe in their small paradise.

...

End of the forty-seventh chapter.

Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!