Standard Disclaimer: check the prologue

Okay, Originally this was for the Winter Holidays, however, I didn't get it finished because 1) I didn't have a computer on my vacation and 2) My relatives had back to back stuff going on for me to even try to write something down.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys rock out loud!! Hope you like this new chapter… more Warren!

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The smoke detector blared loudly as I frantically tried to douse the flames on the gas stove.

"Shit! Oh!" I was in such a panic that I couldn't really function, I completely forgot about the fire-extinguisher next to the stove specifically for my use. So basically I was trying to pour water on the stove, but un/fortunately (I am not in the mind which) I couldn't get close to it. "Oh! PLEASE STOP!" I cried hysterically at the stove.

"JOSEPHINA! OSHI! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" the voice of Chief Bertwin bellowed as he forced the door open and used his powers to put out the flame. Panting heavily with uncontrolled sobs, I managed to utter some form of gratitude. "Hey Oshi, you should be more careful. Good thing that Sarah and Bucky heard the alarm." Fire Chief Bertwin lived next door; he helped me up and got me a glass of water. "Listen kiddo, do you want to have dinner with us and the family? You don't seem to be in any shape to be by yourself."

"N-no thank you. I'll just clean this up and head to bed." My quietly declined, but my stomach reacted otherwise with a loud and thunderous growl. "I'm pretty sure I can make like instant ramen or something."

"Oshi, that's not a Christmas dinner, please come over." He urged the look of sympathy was bright in his eyes. And I just can't stand that! Again I declined with the 'I'm incredibly exhausted and I don't think your family would appreciate if I fell asleep during something important and fun,' excuse until he finally left.

Cooking should be left to professionals, professionals with big hats and cheesy accents; not little girls with powers that can't even do the simplest domesticities from carefully written detailed directions from a professional. Okay, I lied, actually my powers do pick it up, and I comprehend and do everything that was written…theoretically. But I am physically incapable of cooking, deep-cleaning, and laundry; you know the domestic "housewife" things. SERIOUSLY.

Finally the smoke cleared through the help of open freezing windows and I leaned against the island in the middle of the now smoke-blackened kitchen with an exasperated groan. Maybe I shouldn't have turned down that offer at Chief Bertwin's house, oh well too late now. Wrinkling my nose I resolved to walk to the nearest Denny's for food, well at least after I showered and dressed warmly. I was tired, famished, missed my parents and I did not want to be spending the rest of my Christmas evening cleaning my burnt kitchen by myself. It can wait for tomorrow.

A light snowfall graced the Maxville suburbs; the empty streets nearly resembled some eerie sort of winter wonderland. Snow dusted the exposed skin of my cheeks and dark lashes, my mind swirled to Christmases of the past with my parents and how they would have never in a billion years considered going to a local diner for an auspicious occasion like Christmas dinner…unless we wanted to joke around. But they aren't here, and this isn't a joke.

Denny's, it's always open; yay me! Sure it isn't the usual four-star meals Cookey likes to feed me on a daily basis or the school food I sometimes get when I forget lunch, but there's something about diner seasoned French fries and generic Orange tea that I just can't help but love. Grr, my stomach's growling again I'd better hurry to the restaurant.

Kicking a stone along the sidewalk I trudged down the hill to where I'd last seen the diner. My gloved fingers clumsily shifted in my pocket through the X-Men cards I'd collected over the years for my protection.

It's funny how the average non-super would find me an obsessed X-Men fanatic, but to a knowing super I'm a smart girl keeping her defenses up. Maybe that's why trying to get along with non-supers has usually been difficult for a lot of us; we can't be ourselves but we can't keep pretending.

The footfalls of my black and white Vans were loud and echoed on the empty streets as I descended further down the hill of suburban Maxville. My stomach growled painfully and filled my head with many seasoned fry dreams I didn't realize I'd passed Denny's until about a mile and a half up the way. But by then my body was half frozen from the waist down. Groaning at my own stupidity, I nearly threw a fit before my chilled brain rationally decided that I needed a place to get out of the cold.

Flickering neon lights drew my attention on my left to an "OPEN" sign in the window of a red and black pagoda shaped building, gold letters on the black sign illuminated "The Paper Lantern." From where I stood, the lights inside were warm and inviting. I was lured like a moth to a flame and my body moved to the entrance on its own.

The door chimes sand and warm Chinese food scented air greeted me as the door opened to The Paper Lantern. Immediately the warmth of the restaurant seeped into my ice-cold bones; but my calming relief was short lived as angry shouting in some Chinese dialect shattered the calm atmosphere I'd come in on. The livid shouting came from the direction of the kitchen and followed a tall man/boy/guy out the kitchen holding a grey dish bin and filthy rag over his black and red clad left shoulder. His dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun at the base of his neck and for some reason I couldn't stop staring at him from where I stood. He was somehow familiar but I couldn't place him nor could I figure out why he seemed so out of place standing there with a dish bin and dirty towel.

As I stood immobile at the entrance, a short…no tiny Chinese middle-aged woman lumbered threateningly out of the same kitchen door wielding a wooden spoon and a long breath of rants before stopping mid-sentence to see me standing at the door. The man/boy/guy turned to see what the tiny ranter was staring at and my jaw must have dropped.

Oh. My. God…its WARREN PEACE. "Uh-h… the sign said 'OPEN,'" I stated lamely, my motor skills just coming back to me, "I'll just go."

"No, no, still open, still open. Sit." The little woman rushed me in fierce broken English and handed me a well-worn bright red menu decorated with fading gold letters before she gripped my stiff arm and dragged me to a booth near a heater.

"Thank you." I managed meekly already afraid of the tiny she-beast. She left me with smiles and my body was already heating up from the heater. I picked up the menu after slipping out of my heavy coat occasionally letting my gloved fingers defrost near the heater.

Absently staring at the Chinese and English print, too tired and hungry to power up, my mind kept turning over the fact that The WARREN PEACE, known bad boy/badass, son of Baron Battle, son of the man who helped ruin my life was helplessly at the beck and call of a tiny she-beast 2/3 my size. I must have been staring for a long while because a tired looking waitress in baby blue cleared her throat irritably breaking my "concentration" on the menu.

"Oh sorry, um I'll just have whatever soup is still hot please." That shouldn't be too difficult, soup is quick and I really would hate if someone was stopped from going home because I wanted something extravagant. Timidly handing the waitress the menu, I let my gaze drop down to my folded hands in my lap.

"You should've gotten something else," A familiar deep voice rumbled as the steel tea kettle was placed on my table with a dull thump.

"Warren Peace." I replied with a slight smile, "Hi. Care to sit?"

"Just Warren." He eased into the booth and lit a red tapered candle between us with his index finger and a heart melting smirk.

"Right," I breathed, "So why should've I ordered something else? Something wrong with the soup?" Pulling off my beige lamb wool gloves to fold my hands on the red plastic plywood table I waited for his answer.

"Why aren't you at home celebrating Christmas with your family like a good little schoolgirl?" He challenged throwing me off guard for a moment. Firstly I am not a "good little schoolgirl" actually I detest the insinuation and secondly why the hell does he want to know?

"Why aren't you?" I threw back and added, "Like a good little schoolboy?" His brow rose as if to challenge the 'good little schoolboy' comment while the waitress brought me what looked like leftover hot and sour soup. "Thank you." Lifting a piece of meat in the soup spoon and holding it out to Warren; I grinned at his face, "Want some?"

The tiny she-beast yelled something at him before Warren could respond and I watched him get up and walk…no, make that strut in those jeans of his like a runway male model.

OH MY GOD! AM I CHECKING HIM OUT? Quickly averting my gaze, I busied myself with my soup as he strutted back to my table with a tray heavily laden with an assortment of food. Can he eat all that?

"Want some?" His mocking heart-melting grin was back as Warren held out a bowl of food to me.

"I can't it's yours." I responded timidly, but he pushed the bowl in front of me with a pair of plastic chopsticks. "Thanks." I was so hungry and it must have showed.

"You didn't answer my question," Warren stated as we ate.

"So? You didn't answer any of mine."

"I asked you first."

"But I asked you two." He gave me a cute little smirk at my retort. And that's how it started, our friendship stemmed from random things we talked about while finishing off Warren's dinner. What we talked about, I'm not sure, probably books, music, why fortune cookies are so weird, but it was really…nice just to have someone there to hear me and respond to me instead of your power this and your power that or your parents stuff. For that time only, he was just Warren and I was just Oshi, just two people staving off the loneliness on Christmas.

"Whoa, is that the time?" My watch read 1:38 AM and I was surprised that Warren's boss hadn't yelled at him again. "I kept you up and finished your food, I'm so sorry Warren." He shrugged and told me that I looked half-starved anyway. "But still, what's my bill?"

"All you ordered was soup, so $4.25 with tax." He calculated quickly while putting the dishes away.

"Well, here's a 50, keep the change." I stated struggling with my coat sleeves after placing the bill on the table; Warren came up behind me to help with the offending sleeve.

"I'm not taking your charity. I don't want or need it." His voice rasped against my neck.

I spun to face… his chest, damn my height, "It's not charity or pity change or anything but a tip and a 'Thank you' for spending with me what would've otherwise been a lonely and instant ramen Christmas." I pushed the money toward him again. "Just take it, say 'Thank you, come again' and let it go, okay?"

Warren gave me another rare grin before shrugging on a heavy leather jacket and followed me to the door.

"Don't you have cleaning to finish or something? Why are you following me, I don't usually know where I'm going?" I asked facing him.

"I'm walking you to your car." He deadpanned.

"My car?" I repeated stupidly. "Why?"

"It's the gentlemanly thing to do and super or not, going out alone at this hour is not safe." My hand shot to cover my grinning lips and hide the giggle bubbling in my throat. "What's so funny? It's possible for me to have manners, you know."

"Sorry," I giggled, "It's not that, I mean everyone is capable of having manners, it's just a lot of people tend not to use them and that's often the elder generation and then most go off about how teenagers have no manners and—"

"Get to the point."

"Right, well I don't have a car. I can't drive so I actually just walked here." Biting my lip sheepishly, I waited for some kind of reaction.

"In the cold." I nodded, "Why?"

"I was supposed to go to Denny's 'bout a mile and a half back, but somehow I ended up here." He let out a frustrated sigh which puzzled me to no end. Why would he be frustrated, I'm not asking him for anything let alone walking me to my car? "Warren, I'm not asking any favors, thanks for the offer to my non-existent car, but its okay. I'm capable of taking care of myself so good night." I turned to open the door but his hand stopped me… it was then I realized how close we were standing to each other. Please tell me I'm not blushing!

"Look, if you don't mind waiting a bit, I'll drive you home. It's cold and late and I won't take no for an answer. Got it?" Damn, why does he have to be stronger than me? Before waiting for a response, Warren led me back to the booth near the heater and shed his jacket once again treating me to his sculpted figure through his shirt.

For the first fifteen minutes I watched him wipe down the tables and vacuum in silence until my drumming fingers finally annoyed him. "Got a problem?" Warren demanded.

"I just realized that you never did answer my questions." I shrugged nonplussed.

"The soup was fine and I had work. Your turn."

"I got hungry and lost my way to Denny's." We shared a small grin before he went back to cleaning. Feeling awkward, I followed him to the kitchen window as he washed the dirty dishes from our dinner. "Do you really want to know or were you making polite conversation?"

He looked up from the sink, "Both."

"I burned the kitchen trying to make my Christmas dinner… I'm hopelessly undomesticated." Returning back to the dishes, I could see an amused grin, "Your turn."

"Didn't have anything better to do, Mom was out doing hero stuff and I didn't feel like being around people."

"So you went to work? Doesn't the defeat the whole 'no people' thing?"

"A little." Nodding, I leaned against the steel kitchen windowsill with my back to him and stared around the restaurant but not really taking anything in.

"That's your car?" To say that I was shocked is an understatement, appalled, scandalized, or flabbergasted fit better. He led me to a beat up light blue and wood paneled Ford Country Squire, so not what I'd picture him driving.

"What."

"Sorry, I kinda pictured you as a big black Harley kind of guy, not a station wagon driver." My breath came out in puffs in the early morning darkness as I followed Warren to the back lot. We had exited The Paper Lantern about a quarter to 3 in the morning and it didn't get any warmer or less snowy.

"It's too cold to ride my motorcycle, besides you don't look like you carried an extra helmet." He teased, "Where do you live?"

"Did you just make a joke? Wow, you're not as stiff as I thought you were."

"Where do you live?" He repeated unamused.

"Up the hill in Cranberry Estates." He stared as I climbed in, "What'd I say?"

"You walked all the way from Cranberry Estates to Mainstaff Street? Were you high?"

"No. Just wasn't paying attention." He snorted something like 'obviously' as the engine turned over and the car began to warm up. Warren turned on the radio and we were treated to Joan Jett and the Blackhearts' "I love Rock n' Roll." It was hard not to sing along until I noticed Warren humming.

"I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come an' take your time an' dance with me

He smiled so I got up and' asked for his name
That don't matter, he said,
'Cause it's all the same…" I suddenly bust out in my horrible voice making Warren laugh an honest to God genuine laugh. It was a short drive that shouldn't have had to end.

"Thanks again Warren, you've done a lot for me tonight, more than you should have."

He nodded with his Warren smile before breaking into a wide yawn. "How far do you have to drive?"

Warren shrugged, "J and 15th."

"That's on the other side of town!" I exclaimed then apologized for yelling, "Listen I have a guest house all ready and nice. You can sleep here and head home when the sun is up, okay? I won't take no for an answer." Before he could say anything I turned off the engine, stole the keys and ran towards my front door forcing him to follow me. Yes it was forward of me, childish even, but I was not about to let my new friend get in a car crash because he fell asleep at the wheel. Are we friends?

Locking the door behind him I led him through the main hall past the burned kitchen when he stopped me, "You weren't kidding when you said you burnt the kitchen. What were you doing?"

"Trying to boil noodles for pasta." I mumbled before pulling him along a few corridors to another set of doors, "I can't cook okay. I'm physically incapable of it. Here we are. Just go through these doors and across the courtyard."

"You didn't have to."

"You didn't have to stay with me at the restaurant." I smiled at him, "But you did. Go ahead and get settled while I look for some pjs for you."

Dressed in my own flannel pajamas, I found him looking awkward in a beige and off-white room. "Hi."

"Hey."

"You look out of place, here. They're my Dad's, probably a little short, but still warm. Do you need anything else? Toothbrush, shampoo, soap? There's a cabinet of new stuff in the bathroom."

"Why go through all this for me?" He caught me off-guard.

"I take care of my friends, and I'd like to think of us as friends Warren." I leaned against the door frame watching him move around the room tentatively. "Is that too forward of me?"

"No. I think we're friends, Oshi."

I smiled broadly, "Good night, Warren."

"Merry Christmas, Oshi." Yeah…And what a Christmas it is.

So yeah, that was my little Christmas diddly. Sorry it took FOREVER, hope you liked it. I know Warren seems a little OOC, but I thought about it and Warren seems like the type to have that softer, awkward side. But this chapter does sound a little… fluffy. SORRY!!! If he seems too out of character, let me know and I'll try and fix it, but this is for Christmas and people are usually nicer during Christmas.