I think about two-thirds of all of the many oneshots and stories I've thought up over the last 5 years(yes, you read that right- 5 on May 18th) start out as either dreams or random thoughts just before I fall asleep.

This is no exception.

There aren't many fics that include Warren's Freeze Girl, and I've done my best to include her, despite the fact that I am a diehard Warren/Layla writer. That said, this isn't a totally Freeze Girl-pro fic. But I like to be consistent, and Freeze Girl will always be Jenny Freeze to me. Don't ask- it involves a convoluted Batman reference. Yes, I am a nerd through-and-through.

Anyway, so I thought this up late last night, and I figured I might as well get it out before I got distracted and lost even more inspiration. :\ Sorry, guys. Mind you, this is another fic that's been on my laptop for months and months and months and I finally got around to using it.

On the plus side, I think this finally counts towards jypzrose's challenge to write a really good kiss scene between Warren/Layla (she wrote her own awesome version, Melt With You). I think this finally applies.


Don't you know by now?
You can't turn back
Because this road is all you'll ever have

- "Fences," Paramore

Jennifer Freeze was perfect for Warren Peace.

She was his perfect antithesis; lithe, thin, pale, and blonde, with icy blue eyes and an equally frozen temperature. As his mother, the therapist and superhero, would say, the trigger to her rage mechanism was oversensitive. Basically, she got angry. A lot.

That worked for them. They would bicker, and fight, and once in a while she would toss one of her ice bombs his way. But, somehow, they always wound up making up and, well, making out. He was still a guy in high school- even if it was a school for super heroes.

And their system, the battles and eventual peace, it worked. Sort of. She was pretty, when she wasn't trying to spear him with icicles bigger than his torso. They matched each other's characters well, the yin to his yang.

He wasn't so sure about that.

When he was with her, he didn't feel like they matched. He felt oppressed, oddly enough. Her skin was naturally cool in temperature, akin to the way his was naturally hot. So when he touched her, he felt… cold. He hated feeling cold. He hated the cold, period.

Even when they kissed, it was like they cancelled each other out. She would get colder, and he would get hotter, and while it was true he could never really hurt her, and vice versa, that wasn't much of a comfort when the longer they made out, the less he wanted to actually be with her.

It was messed up, but he was no stranger to messed up relationships. His parents proved that much. He put up with it, and he certainly didn't question it. Even still, the more time he spent with Jen, the less he was convinced that he actually liked her as any more than a friend. And sometimes, he wasn't even sure about that.

He couldn't work up the effort to actually break up with her. He didn't spend as much time with her, instead hanging out with his freshman friends- Stronghold and hippie, Popsicle, Day-Glo and the guinea pig chick. They were a motley bunch, but they were pretty damned funny, and it was always worth it to see Ethan spaz out or Zach turn bright red when he was talking to Magenta.

Layla had a garden in her backyard. It wasn't anything surprising, given her powers and the type of girl that she was, but it was amusing to see her work in the dirt. She could grow a daisy the size of a 50-year-old oak tree in the time it took most people to talk, but when it came to her damned roses she had to put all of her own sweat and often blood into every plant.

He would drop by her house and walk in to her backyard. It happened fairly often, usually when he wanted to avoid hanging out with Jen. Today was no different.

"Oh, hey, Warren," Layla said, straightening up from where she had been kneeling in the small patch of dirt on a crappy hand towel. Her long red hair was pulled up haphazardly in a bun at the top of her head, and some of it was falling out. She was in a ratty wife beater two sizes too big, a pair of green Soffee shorts, and her favorite sneakers. She looked like hell, but he liked her best when she was like this. She was in her natural state of disarray, one with everything she had a hand in creating.

Maybe he wasn't that deep, not yet, but he definitely believed that when she was spending her free Saturday morning digging up weeds in her backyard, she was the most comfortable. And, odd as it sounded, he liked hanging out with Stronghold's little squeeze when she was at her most comfortable. What was even weirder was that he liked the hippie because he liked her, not just because he was buddies with Stronghold.

He grinned back, pulling off his heavy leather jacket and pulling his hair back. Embarrassingly enough, he liked helping her out in her little garden. He wasn't sure why he bothered, but it was something to do and she was a decent conversationalist. "How've you been, hippie?"

She pushed most of her hair out of her face, but the damage was already done. She was flushed and a little sunburned, not to mention she was covered in dirt. There was a huge smudge by her nose, and a few on her shoulders and legs. As per usual when she worked in her yard, she looked like a mess, but damned if she wasn't an adorable one.

That was possibly the most bizarre thought of all. She was a cute little thing, but he had his own girlfriend, and she was already too cold to handle. Not to mention, she was Stronghold's girl. That didn't stop the fact that he did like talking to her.

"You have a little bit of dirt," he said, unable to keep the amused grin off his face. He gestured to the side of his nose. "Right there."

In what he was finding to be true Layla fashion, she laughed and blushed, swiping at the wrong side of her face.

Warren shook his head. "No, it's on the other side," he said, and watched as she rubbed the right side, but down near her mouth. He shook his head again, and leaned over to wipe the dirt away with his thumb. When he did, her already wide eyes grew even rounder and her full lips parted slightly, sucking in a sharp intake of breath. Briefly, he wondered if visiting Layla so frequently had been a bad idea, but by then, it was too late. He was already leaning forward, pulling her closer. He felt her gasp again when their lips met, and he took that as an incentive to slip his free arm around her waist and haul her against him.

She was the opposite of kissing Jen. In a matter of seconds, she was completely pliant against him, fingers sliding through his hair and digging into his scalp. She was dating Stronghold, and he was dating Jenny, and this was a really bad idea.

Layla was so much warmer that Jen ever was. Her skin was comfortable to the touch, and her breath was almost hot against his own. When her palm brushed against his jaw, he realized how much better it was to kiss someone that was warm-blooded.

She whimpered a little when his tongue slipped past her lips and tangled with hers. Jen never made those kinds of noises, and hearing Layla do so made him want to see what else he could coax out of her.

He was the first one to break the kiss, not breaking his contact with her and pressing his forehead against hers. "You feel that?" he asked, his breathing heavy and his voice hoarse.

Her breathing wasn't even, either. "Yeah," she whispered, dropping her hands to rest on his shoulders. The heels of her palms gently massaged the tense muscle, smiling when he groaned under her ministrations.

One of his hands slid down to her hip, and he pushed up the loose shirt, exposing skin and tracing her hipbone. Her lips parted once more, and her pupils dilated. He leaned forward, kissing her slowly, but thoroughly. She showed her appreciation by leaning all of her weight into him, her soft curves contrasting against his strong muscle.

His fingers tangled into her hair, making her bun even messier than it had been before, and he marveled in how much warmer she was than his girlfriend. He didn't tense when her skin brushed against his own, or wince when she pressed her hand against his exposed flesh.

She pulled away first, her creamy skin flushed and hot. "I'm not supposed to be kissing my boyfriend's best friend."

His smile was crooked, and even when they stopped kissing, he still couldn't stop touching her warm skin. "I'm not supposed to be kissing my best friend's girlfriend," he replied. "What do you want to do about it?"

She stared up at him, her eyebrows knitting together in frustration. "It's hard to focus when you're standing that close to me," she whispered, her voice heated.

He grinned back. "I think I have my answer."

Jennifer Frost may have been Warren Peace's perfect opposite, but Layla Williams was his perfect match.


I liked the ending. I just didn't like everything else.

I don't know. I'm beginning to think my expectations are above and beyond everyone else's when it comes to what I write. I really don't think I did well on this, but, somehow, I'll get half a dozen reviews or so saying that this was awesome or perfect or something along those lines.

Not that I'm complaining. You guys rock. I just wish I had that level of confidence in me.

Ah, whatever. I'll deal. :)