Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High or the characters, etc...

A/N: This is my first published fanfic, naturally 12 years after the movie came out. I've become re-infatuated with it and this idea came into my head and had to be written.

Tray in hand, I search the cafeteria for a familiar face. I smile when I spot him, but he doesn't see me—his head is buried in another book. That doesn't change until I set my tray on the table, jolting his attention up to me.

"Hey, Warren," I say cheerfully. He just grunts in return, going back to his book. "Oh come on, I know you're capable of being a half decent human being some of the time."

"I know you're capable of sitting somewhere else for lunch," he mutters, not looking up at me.

"Seriously, did Homecoming change nothing about you?"

Finally, he glances up again. He puts on a fake smile. "Hi, Hippie." The sarcasm is dripping from his words. He lets the smile fall as quickly as he put it up.

"I'll accept it." I start digging into my salad as he gives me a curt "Whatever" in return.

Warren and I have been friendly since Homecoming, but not exactly close friends. I'd call it more of tolerating my presence. He and I kind of had a spark of something when he was pretending to be my date, but that dissipated quick once Will and I got together. We've broken up since, but things have still been a little tense between me and Warren. He and Will don't really hang out anymore either, and the rest of the sidekicks don't exactly enjoy his dark demeanor, so it's usually just me sitting with him every so often. On the outside, he despises it, but I know Warren. And I know deep down, he appreciates the company sometimes.

My thoughts are brought back to the present when Warren's cell phone starts ringing. He groans and flips it open.

"What?" was his kind greeting. The person on the other end responds, and instantly, Warren's face drops. "Damn it," he whispers at first, closing the phone. The smoke starts to rise from his body, and I can already tell this is not going to go well.

"Warren?" I ask cautiously.

He jumps up, fuming. "Damn it!" he yells. He slams a fiery fist down onto the table with such force that it breaks apart, almost hitting my knees underneath. The cafeteria goes silent, looking over to see what the pyro is up to now.

He grabs his bag, and starts to storm out of the room. Before I know what I'm doing, I jump up and run over to him, trying to block his path. Probably not the best idea when said person is literally flaming up in rage. "Warren, stop!" I call.

He gets up in my face, his burning eyes mere inches from mine. He grabs my wrist roughly and shoves me out of the way. His hands are still lit up, and it burns my skin. "Stay out of this, Hippie," he growls at me. He continues on through the cafeteria, nobody else even trying to get in the way, and by the time he reaches the double doors, his arms are fully engulfed in flames.

I'm left standing there in shock over what he just did, nursing my singed wrist.

I don't see him around school the rest of the day, but the rumors start flying over what caused the latest Warren Peace outburst.

I try calling Warren a few times, but each time, it just goes straight to his voicemail, which is unusual for him. Whatever happened, it is not good.

Despite what he said to me, I decide to go and look for him that evening. My feet take me to the one place where I know he goes for solace—The Paper Lantern.

My suspicions are confirmed when I see a red glow coming from the roof of the restaurant. I give myself a weak smile, glad that I found him and that he's okay, but worried for what might happen next.

I go to the back of the building, and find a tree that I can climb on and grow to get to the roof, like I do at Will's house sometimes. When I make it up to the roof, Warren's back is to me, and he doesn't turn around. Either he didn't hear me at all, or he just doesn't care.

I'm taken aback when I get a good look at him—he's literally smoldering. Steam rises off of him, his skin dark and cracked under a thin layer of fire. Embers fly off of him every now and then.

I've never seen Warren like this, and it scares me.

Slowly, I walk over to where he sits, keeping my footsteps light. He doesn't react when I sit down near him, keeping my distance, but I'm close enough to feel the heat emanating off of him. He has his knees pulled up to his chest, and he's resting his elbows on his knees. He's looking down at the gravel below him, his long hair hanging in his face.

"I thought I told you to stay out of this, Hippie." His voice is low and hoarse, his tone even. He doesn't look up at me as he says it.

"Did you really think I would, though?" I'm met with silence. "Warren, what happened?" I ask gently.

"I'm not talking about this with you," he says curtly.

"Well then who are you going to talk about it with? Your masses of friends you've attracted with your charming personality?" That one causes him to look up at me, shooting daggers with his eyes. I hold his gaze. "I'll be here until you're ready to talk about it."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not much of a talker."

"I know."

He lets out a laugh, but I know it's not a good one. "Hope you're ready to be here for a while, then."

"I am."

We sit in silence, him still staring at the ground, and me just watching him. He doesn't cry, but even from where I sit, I can see his eyes shift from anger to sadness. After a while, I start to see something in him change. The glow on his skin starts to dissipate, and the embers don't flake off as often.

Every time we adjust our bodies, we each move just slightly towards the other, almost an imperceptible distance. Despite what he's said, we still can't help but gravitate towards each other. Even when we barely even pay attention to it.

When I realize that he's finally cooled down, and when my body is close enough to his, I take a chance and rest my head on his shoulder. His skin is still pretty warm. He tenses up, but then a moment later, he sighs and rests his head on mine.

It almost makes me shudder, but in a good way. Warren Peace has never seemed this… vulnerable.

"Why are you still here," he says gruffly. His voice surprises me, because it had been so long since he'd even acknowledged my being there. It comes out more as a statement than a question, but I answer him anyway.

"I care about you, dumbass."

"That's probably a stupid choice."

"Not in the least."

For whatever reason, Warren moves one of his hands so that it rests on my knee. I reciprocate by putting my hand on top of his and lacing our fingers together. And unlike back when I held his hand to make Will jealous, this time he doesn't burn me or pull away.

He takes a deep breath, and then finally speaks. "My father was killed in prison today," he says. My heart sinks in pain for him.

"Oh, Warren, I'm—"

He shakes his head, cutting me off. "No, don't say you're sorry for it. I don't want anyone's pity." I shut my mouth and wait for him to continue. "Another prisoner stabbed him in just the right place, apparently. He was a super villain, yeah, but he was still my father, and I still loved him despite what he did."

I tighten my grip on his hand, and he does the same. "What happened to the guy who did it?" I ask.

"No idea. You don't know how bad I want revenge on him, though. I want to go to that prison and take care of him myself. But I don't want to become what my father was."

"You're not your father," I remind him. "As much as everyone already judges you and expects you to be like him, you're so much better."

"I know." He doesn't offer anything else on the topic, and I don't push him to. "I'm sorry for burning you earlier at school, by the way. I was just so—"

"Angry. I understand. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Totally. I had some aloe plants on me, so I was able to make some extra to put on the burn."

Of all the things we've talked about, this one gets him to lift his head and look at me with kind, curious eyes. "You carry aloe plants with you?"

"Well, yeah," I say honestly. "If I'm going to keep hanging out with the resident pyro, I figure I should probably have some plants with me in case of emergencies."

Dare I say it, but Warren actually smiles at me for that. Then he shakes his head and laughs. "You're something else, Hippie."

"You didn't think you could get rid of me that easy, did you?"

"No. I didn't."

In that moment, Warren looks deep into my eyes, a look that sends butterflies swirling through my stomach. He moves his free hand to hold my cheek, and then pulls me to him for a gentle kiss.

"Thank you for coming up here," he says, after we break apart. "Even though I did tell you to stay out of it."

I don't say anything back. Instead, this time I lean to him, and I kiss him again. Our kiss deepens a little more this time, and it's a few seconds before either of us pull away, our breathing quickened and our hearts pounding.

"You can bet your ass I'm never staying out of it in the future, either," I say.

A big grin spreads over his face, as he strokes his thumb across my bottom lip. "Deal."