authors note
hellohello before you read this pls note i am from the uk so football is like the uk football i think its the equivalent to american soccer? idk. also i have approximately 0 idea on how sport or competitions or whatever work, so forgive me if i get those wrong. i know that in canon clove is supposed to be 15/16 and cato 18, but i'm changing it to 16&17 so they're still in the same year school. also this is really just a bit of fun i don't know where i'm going with this and it'll probably just be a couple of chapters maybe. i'm trying to get better at present tense so thats why its like that, &lower case is intentional(:
every time she moves her head too fast her vision blurs around the edges and she has to take a minute to steady herself, the heels of her hands pressing into her temples in a vain attempt to get her eyesight to sharpen. her throat burns and around her the music is too loud and the bass is cranked up way too high; she can feel it thud in her ribcage at every beat.
sweat is siding down her face and even though she's normally lithe and agile, she finds herself stumbling over everything and nothing as she tries to make her way into the kitchen. her brown eyes scan over the mass of bodies pressed into the small room, eager to find blue ones staring right back at her but instead finding nothing. frustrated, she makes her way into the adjoining dining room, but there's nobody in here apart from a rather petrified cat and someone passed out in the corner.
she sinks into a chair behind the huge, glossy wooden table and looks down inside her cup. she's not really too sure what's in it, as soon as she stepped onto the threshold people were whooping and cheering and thrusting various bottles at her, bottles that were once filled with liquids so unnaturally bright she decided they should definitely not be consumed, ever, but are now lying strewn, empty, around in various places of the house. she realises with a start that she doesn't even know who's house it is.
deciding that she doesn't care what she's drinking, she tilts her head back and knocks down the contents of her plastic cup. she pulls it away from her lips, her face screwed into a grimace, and chucks it across the room, wondering if she should switch to water now and then ultimately guessing she should have switched to water about four drinks ago.
"woah there clover, what did the cup ever do to you?"
she jumps at the voice and her head snaps up to find cato leaning against the doorframe casually, a bottle held loosely between his fingers and a smirk on his face. "shut up." clove groans, crossing her arms on the table and burying her face into them. a low chuckle comes from across the room and then she's aware of him sliding into the seat next to her. "what have you had to drink?" a soothing voice asks her, and she goes to say she doesn't know and why does he care? but it ends up coming out as a string of various sounds. there's a sigh from next to her and in that moment clove decides she's never drinking again. she's all too aware that she probably looks like a state right now, and the guy she's been looking for for the past half an hour is sat right next to her. she can't remember why she was looking for him (aren't we supposed to hate each other?), in fact she can't remember why she's at this party in the first place.
"whyurmiere?" she says, turning her head and resting her cheek upon her crossed wrists to look up at a very amused cato.
"you won your basketball championships, and i won my football championships."
"so?"
there's another small laugh from cato. "we're the captains, clove. we have to come to these." clove considers this for a minute, and searches deep into her mind. she has a vague memory of winning something and getting a trophy, and decides that'll do. "whatever." she tries to remember if cato has always had two heads, four eyes, two noses and two mouths and reaches out a hand to try and touch the new, second pair of blue eyes he's somehow obtained. he moves his head back out of her reach, his two right eyebrows lifted in question. "there's two of you." clove says in explanation and cato snorts with laughter.
"alrighty clover, lets get you in bed, yeah?" clove remembers saying something about at least going on a date first, some very loud, shocked laughter, strong arms carrying her upstairs and then going to sleep.
/
[09:57, glimmer]: wakey wakey babe
[10:04, glimmer]: clove babe get uuup
[10:07, glimmer]: have a shower, there's clean clothes in my en suite xx
[10:08, glimmer]: im going 2 make pancakes. so u better get up p soon!
clove groans into the pillow. every loud ping that comes from her phone on the bedside table next to her seems to drill into her head and make it seem heavy and cloudy. she slowly sits up and then slams her body back down onto the mattress after a wave of nausea hits her at the action. holy shit, she thinks, what did i drink? she tries sitting up again after a few minutes and slowly makes her way across the bedroom and into the en suite.
in the light of day and with a sober - albeit hungover - mind, clove can see this is glimmer's house and the bedroom she passed out in was that of none other than glimmer's herself. she's been in this room hundreds of times ever since they both started secondary school; every important boy-related decision was made sat cross-legged on the pink bed, and dozens of nights have been spent lying on the carpeted floor, doing some last-minute cramming for an important test they both forgot.
sure enough there's a pair of leggings and a grey hoodie folded neatly on the lid of the toilet seat, a pair of black ankle socks sat on top. clove catches sight of herself in the full-length mirror and lets out a pained groan. she's still in her clothes from last night and man, 'trashy' doesn't even cover it. try 'trampy', or 'tacky', clove thinks miserably, turning around in the mirror and analysing her reflection. her red dress has a stain down the front from god knows what, and one of the straps is halfway down her shoulder. in clove's defence, she never wanted to wear the dress. it barely came to her mid-thigh and it was way too tight - glimmer had basically forced her into buying it. "you're not coming in leggings!" she had yelled in the topshop changing room, glaring daggers at her glum best friend. there are huge streaks of black mascara down her face, her eyeshadow is smudged and the "five minute smoky eye look for beginners", as the youtube video had advertised, now just made her look like she had gotten into a fight and received a black eye for her effort. her hair had originally been in a sleek ponytail but now more hair is down than up, and she can't find the hairband amid the tangled mess. clove is wearing underwear, but she could not say where her bra was.
with a deep sigh, clove strips down and slowly brushes out her hair. she stands in the shower under the hot stream of water for half an hour before there's an aggressive pounding at the door. she hasn't thrown up yet this morning and considers that a sign that maybe she's okay, so she reluctantly gets out of the shower and towels herself dry. the smell of alcohol and old, drying sick - although she doesn't remember throwing up or putting her head near anyone throwing up - has wormed it's way out of her hair and is now replaced by a strawberry scent that clove normally associates with glimmer.
she slips on the leggings, socks and hoodie - she'll just have to go commando today - and takes a look in the mirror. her wet hair is in it's typical, weird half-braid-half-ponytail do, and the hoodie has 'capitol secondary girls basketball' across the back, capitol secondary's crest of a mockingjay on the front. glimmer isn't on the basketball team but she's a "supportive best friend, so yes of course i'll buy a hoodie for your fundraiser!" the fundraiser was nearly two years ago and clove is a hundred percent sure this is the first time it's being worn.
outside in the hallway, clove finds herself marvelling at glimmer's cleaning-up skills. last night the stairs had been littered in red plastic cups and the hallway had been full of empty wrappers, smashed bottles and various pieces of clothing. there had even been a bra thrown over the banister, and clove shuts her eyes, mortified, when she concludes it was probably hers. the house is quiet when she comes downstairs, aside from glimmer singing along to the radio in the kitchen. still, the music that drifts from that room is quiet and catchy compared to last nights pounding songs that were rap or trap or whatever the fuck.
she makes her way into the kitchen to find glimmer with her hair curled and dressed in a white skirt and a cute blue blouse, a flowery apron on and stood by the oven, using the spatula in her hand as a microphone. "how the fuck are you so put together? i feel like death." clove moans, propping up her elbows on a countertop and resting her head in her hands, watching as her best friend twirled around in time to the music. "some of us can bounce back, clover." glimmer says with a wink, turning around to face clove. "pancake?"
the two are sat in the dining room twenty minutes later, full on pancakes and sharing the snatched memories they have of the night before. "did you see what madge and delly were wearing? they were so cute." clove nods in agreement.
"gale was so checking madge out." she contributes, and glimmer snorts.
"again."
"again." clove agrees. "how long do you think it'll take before he asks her out?" glimmer shrugs and then turns to clove sharply, a huge grin plastered on her face and her eyebrows raised as if she'd just remembered something, which she had.
"i cannot believe cato carried you to bed." glimmer squeals. clove pretends to bash her head on the table.
"that's literally so embarrassing i can't believe that happened to me." she whines, and glimmer laughs loudly. "what do i even say to him? do i even say anything?" she pushes her plate away with a groan.
"i'm just going to die. it's the only option." clove states matter-of-factly, which causes glimmer to shriek with laughter.
"oh come on it's not that bad." she offers, and clove turns to glare at her.
"we're like, sworn enemies."
"what are you, twelve?" glimmer snorts, collecting the plates and walking into the kitchen, clove following.
"well he acts like it! he's so immature and full of himself. and he carried me to bed. god." she stands by glimmer, leaning against a counter as the blonde loads the dishwasher. she goes to say something else when her phone vibrates in her hoodie pocket.
[11:02, unknown number]: you good now, clover?
clove is already having the worst day of her life and it's just turned eleven. "and now he has my fucking number!" she cries, and glimmer immediately stops what she's doing, straightening her legs and hooking her chin on clove's shoulder, reading the text. "how do you know that's him?" she asks, and clove pulls a sour face, stepping away and pacing the kitchen. "he called me clover. he's the only one who uses that dumb nickname."
glimmer shakes her head fondly, her blonde hair swishing around her face. "that's pretty cute clove." it has the desired affect; clove stops in her tracks immediately and spins around to face the blonde. "what do you mean cute?!" she spits and glimmer laughs.
"i just mean that's a pretty couple-y thing to do: nicknames. it's like, instead of baby or honey, you have clover and-"
"and dickhead." clove finishes for her.
"are you going to text him back?" glimmer asks, ignoring clove's previous comment, and the brunette shakes her head fiercely. glimmer sighs and runs a hand through her hair. clove immediately recognises the action as one she has done quite a few times, one she does whenever glimmer whines about boys and crushes and clove secretly thinks she's being overdramatic and it could be all be solved with communication. she feels her cheeks flush and shakes her head again. "no. no, i'm not going to text him, i'm - i'm going to go home." glimmer rolls her eyes but takes a step forwards and holds clove by the shoulders, kissing her on the forehead.
"you need to drink some water and get some sleep. do you need a lift?" clove shakes her head no.
"i could do with a run i guess." glimmer smiles softly.
"celebrate that you won, baby girl. and don't think about dumb boys."
so clove jogs home, earphones in and music blasting and all the while thinking about dumb boys - or, one particular dumb boy.
/
clove leans against the door to the storeroom, her brown eyes watching as her teammates run around the court; the sounds of trainers squeaking, a ball bouncing and cries of "here!" filling the hall. she's out of breath and clutching her water bottle tightly, it's been a vicious practice and she was all too glad to swap herself out. her breaths feel like shards of glass in her lungs and all her muscles are already starting to sore - clove doesn't want to imagine what they'll be like tomorrow. finch scores and clove summons up enough energy to blast on her whistle, ending practice. sighs and groans of relief make their way out of the team's mouths as they take of bibs and half-heartedly throw balls in the direction of the storeroom, and clove smiles to herself.
johanna and katniss make their way towards her, both gasping for air and red in the face, the loose hairs from their respective ponytail and braid plastering to their faces with sweat. "you tryina' kill us, clo?" johanna asks, snatching clove's water bottle from her hand. she gets halfway through pouring it over her head before katniss snatches it from her and proceeds to dump the rest of it over her own. clove rolls her eyes but she's smirking, and the three of them turn to walk towards the changing rooms.
practice is always after school, and glimmer is clove's ride home because she has cheerleading at the same time. but today practice overran by a good twenty minutes, so clove is not surprised at all when she checks her phone and finds a string of impatient texts from the blonde.
[16:23, glimmer]: i just finished meet me in th parking lot?
[16:25, glimmer]: babe
3 missed calls from: [glimmer]
[16:28, glimmer]: oi
[16:29, glimmer]: i'm in th parking lot hurry up!
[16:33, glimmer]: clove i will leave
4 missed calls from: [glimmer]
[16:38, glimmer]: ur walking boo sorry x
clove shuts her phone off and turns around to speak to her friends, and is immediately plunged into their upbeat conversation and ridiculous jokes. glimmer's party was on saturday night and it's now tuesday, and nobody has said anything about how wrecked she was, so either nobody cares or they were all too drunk to notice. and besides, a party isn't exactly in the front of everyones minds at the minute, they had just won the panem fucking championships. for a year, capitol secondary are the champions in girls basketball across all of panem. and clove is captain, so she feels pretty fucking great at the minute, even if she knows the title will get snatched from them next year. they've come in the top five out of twelve (the thirteenth team was disqualified for breaking the rules a couple of years back) a couple of times and barely scraped first this year, but clove's still proud. still, like many of her friends she's grown up where training for sport nearly every day is kind of expected of her. if you weren't academically smart, you better be athletic here at capitol secondary.
clove leaves the changing rooms and walks down into the parking lot surrounded by her teammates laughing and smiling, until she spots him. finch and the others carry on but kat and jo turn around and halt when they notice clove's abruptly stopped walking. "you okay clove?" jo calls, and clove nods stiffly.
"yeah, i'll uh, i'll catch up with you tomorrow." the two shrug and walk off, leaving clove and cato alone in the parking lot.
he's sat on the hood of his expensive, flashy blue car, idly twirling his car keys around a finger. "clover." he nods in greeting with a smirk, and clove resists every urge to roll her eyes so hard that she ends up staring at her brain. "why are you here?" she asks suspiciously, still standing a couple of metres away from him. "your practice is at lunch." cato nods but his smirk grows and clove really, really doesn't like where this is going.
he pushes himself off of the car and saunters over to clove, who's frown is deepening by the second. "what do you want, cato?" she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. cato raises his hands in mock surrender. "bit defensive today, clover, aren't we?" i am going to rip his fucking face off. clove thinks bluntly, but instead she just turns to walk away. she's stopped by a strong grip on her elbow and is pulled back roughly towards the direction of the car. "hey!" she splutters, and rips away from cato's grasp. he just laughs, and it infuriates clove.
"i'm your ride home today, clover." he says casually, and clove scoffs.
"funny joke." she snaps, her voice dripping with hostile sarcasm. cato cocks an eyebrow.
"it's no joke. glimmer called me, said you'd be stranded at school and if it's not too much trouble..." he trails off with a shrug and clove makes a mental note to smack some sense into her best friend the next time she sees her. she takes a deep breath. "i am not getting in your car." she says flatly.
"isn't it, like, a forty minute walk back to yours?"
"isn't it, like, none of your business?" clove mimics and cato rolls his eyes, reaching behind him to open the car door.
"get in the car, clover."
"no."
"clove."
"i am not getting into your car."
"get in the car."
"if you ask me one more time i am going to report you for kidnapping."
cato lets out a huff of breath. "then i won't ask you." he bends down swiftly and clove suddenly finds herself off the ground and in his arms - the second time in a matter of days. she pummels on his chest repeatedly and yells all sorts of abuse, but cato pays her no mind and instead shuts the door, walking around to the other side. clove sits there, dumbfounded, and hopes that someone witnessed that and is on the phone to the police. "what the fuck, you dickhead?" she yells as soon as cato is sat in the seat next to her. he ignores her.
"seatbelt, clover."
when she does nothing he turns to face her. "clove i am being nice."
"you have literally never been nice to me in my whole life." clove deadpans. cato ignores that, too, and pulls out of the parking lot.
"anyway, miss trinket told me to tell you that two of us and our teams have a mini photoshoot this weekend. the sports hall, at eleven am."
"a photoshoot?!" clove all but screeches, and cato winces.
"yes, a photoshoot. just for some newspaper, but it's a pretty big deal, clover! we both came first in our sports! out of like, all of panem! that's insane!"
clove pinches the bridge of her nose. "i am not doing a photoshoot. i am the least photogenic person in the world." she declares, turning away from cato to look out of the window instead, watching as tall, grey buildings whizz past. cato hums in amusement. "well in that case, basketball won't be included and it'll only be the football team on the front cover." clove snaps her head around the face cato, anger written on her face.
"we'll be there." she hisses and after that there is no more conversation. clove isn't camera shy per say, but all of her yearbook photos share the same story: clove sat with her brows furrowed and her arms crossed. she doesn't like having her photo taking, or taking photos of herself - which is a dramatic difference to glimmer who's instagram feed is roughly seventy percent selfies. not that that's a bad thing, glimmer is hot and her nine thousand followers clearly appreciate it.
an icy silence settles upon the odd duo and clove finds herself checking her phone for the time every few minutes. cato and clove have always hated each other and clove is quite happy to go on hating each other, so she's utterly confused as to why he's dropping her off and why glimmer (who, by the way, knows more than anyone how much clove hates him) asked him to. why would he agree to that? miss trinket could have told her about the photoshoot herself, it was still a few days until saturday to prepare, and besides cato seemingly has her number now so why couldn't he text her? actually, why does he have her number? they've traded insults and screamed at each others faces for the past six years why is he "being nice" now? what's changed? as far as clove's aware, nothing.
cato pulls up outside of clove's block of flats and she quickly climbs out of the car, swinging her gym bag over her shoulder and slamming the door shut without so much of a goodbye or a thank you. cato winds down his window and yells out a goodbye, and in response clove flips him off angrily.
he can play nice all he wants, clove silently fumes, he's still a dickhead.