"My curfew is in ten minutes." I said, glancing at the clock. I've been putting off those words for half an hour, the second to last word changing as the time went by. I found my parents... fun. Weird, right? Everyone who raised me were law abiding good two shoes, yet my personality seemed to be hereditary or something.
"Your curfew is at nine? That sucks." John said. I wish he controlled my curfew.
"Our place is in the opposite direction, so-" I cut Wanda off with a suspicious glance.
"How do you know where I live?" She turned red. I bet she didn't really know and she was just saying that to set her evil plan in motion.
"I, uh, guessed. So why doesn't Warren drive you home?"
He slowly nodded, probably afraid of what she could do to him. Pigtails did not suit his manliness.
So we paid the bill and gathered in a clump outside the restaurant, saying our tearful goodbyes.
As in Warren was putting away his apron and Wanda and John were insulting each other while I stood next to them and laughed, little mental whipping noises going off in my heads directed towards John.
Warren came out just as I was about to comment on how whipped John was, in all his manly glory with his hair no longer pulled back. I liked his hair pulled back...
Whoa, what just happened? Did I swoon a little? Gotta snap out of my horny.
"So where are you guys staying?"
"Plaza Hotel." John smirked, "Xavier's paying for everything, so we got a five star hotel."
"Way better than the crap we lived in when we were on the run." Wanda commented.
"Really? I thought the tent was kind of homey."
Tent? On the run?
"It was nice meeting you two." Warren said politely, shaking John's hand.
"And it was very nice meeting you." Wanda said, bringing him into a hug, "And remember, only kisses. Any more than that and I'll come after you."
Am I blushing?
"We'll keep that in mind, Wanda." I hugged both of them, glad that Wanda wasn't crying. She didn't seem like the crying type, "Warren, are you gonna drive me home now?"
Get away, get away, get awayfrom the mother who wants me to kiss boys.
"I'm sorry about my parents." I said once I was sure they had driven away in their red mustang, "I could walk home if it's too much trouble for you."
"I heard that!" Wanda said magically... I thought I was whispering... "You're driving her!"
"Again, I'm sorry about my parents."
"Don't worry about it, I'll drive you home." He said in his normal grumbly voice. I loved that voice. It was so bad boy it gave my spine tingles.
I did not just say that. What is wrong with me? Please don't be a stupid lovesick teenager. I'll break down and cry. Wait... That would make me even more of a lovesick teenager of the stupid variety. Damn feelings.
"Okay." I squeaked as we approached what I thought to be God.
A motorbike.
A black motorbike.
And it was shiny too.
He got on as if it was nothing and offered me a helmet. A black one.
"What about you?" I asked, not caring much for helmet hair but not enjoying the idea of my brains splattered on the pavement.
"Head as hard as concrete. Came with the powers." He said, rumbling the beautiful engine of the beautiful bike.
Who am I kidding? This man is perfect.
"So." He yelled over the rumble of the motorcycle as we drove the short way to my house, "Parents?"
"Not the ones from the fire..." I spoke into his ear, hoping he could hear me, "I mean, of course not, they're dead. It turns out I was adopted before I thought I was adopted. Weird, right?"
"Not really." Was all he supplied. Okay, maybe he's not so perfect.
We stayed in silence for a couple more blocks, him being all warm and leathery, and me clinging to his jacket pockets because I've never actually ridden a motorcycle before. Yes, I'm a sort of poser. Looking all tough in my mini genuine leather biker jacket that I got for twenty bucks in a thrift store because some retard let something so beautiful go, and I never got someone to drive me around on a motorbike.
"It's okay, you know, if you like your biological parents." He said at a stop sign, choosing not to keep driving. "You're not betraying the couple who raised you if you call your parents mom and dad."
How did he know I was thinking that? I didn't even let the readers know about that!
"But.. If they're not my parents, then they're just a couple who took me in when I needed them... Who I killed."
"They're not just a couple who took you in. They're still your parents. You just have a few more now. Don't shut them out because you're afraid you'll love them." He was so awkward!
I hugged him from behind, choosing to release the awkward grip I had on his pockets.
"You're hugging me." He said, stating the obvious. The extremely obvious.
"Yes. I think I would know."
"If you were anyone else, I would roast you alive." He always knew just what to say.
"What makes me so special?" I asked into his neck, asking myself the same question about him.
"I can't hurt you." He said, his voice softening slightly from his normal grumble.
As we started to drive again, I smiled into him. I could feel a weight just flying off of my shoulders. I probably just lost a few pounds from that.
"And I bet you don't want to hurt me, either. Not anymore, at least."
His silence was all the answer I needed as we drove off to my awaiting foster daddy.
Author's Note: It's a little short, but I thought it was a cute ending. The two of them driving off into the night on Warren's bike.