A/n: Okay, this idea came to me while doing a hunger games role play. I ship Clato HARD. I love love love them.

this chapter promises to be fluff, but this is probably the only one like it.

i own nothing

Cato was dead on his feet from the severe training session. There was nothing he wanted more than to collapse on his bed in his ramshackle home. Maybe that's why he was so surprised to find his best friend pacing the floor in his main room. "Clove?"

She stopped and turned to face him. "Oh, Cato. Hi."

"What are you doing here?" He hoped he didn't sound rude, something he had a tendency of doing.

She sighed. "I'm worried about tomorrow. What if I'm reaped?" She was afraid she sounded foolish and childish. But this was Cato. If she couldn't tell him, she couldn't tell anyone.

He placed what he hoped was a calming hand on her shoulders. He was all too aware of his sweaty palms and prayed he didn't leave a damp spot on her shirt. "Clover, we've been training all of our lives for this. "

"I know. But I could die in the arena, Cato. Aren't you the least bit nervous?"

Cato mentally cringed at the thought of her dying. "Of course I am. I just know how to hide it well."

Clove suddenly realized how close they were and looked away so he couldn't see the blush creeping into her cheeks. "Yeah."

This is it. He thought. This is my chance to tell her how I really feel. Before he could lose his nerve, he said, "Clove, I'm going to tell you something but you have to promise not to kill me."

Her heart sped up. Could it be? Does he feel the same way? "Sure, Cato. What's up?" she said, doing her best to act casual.

"Clove, I like you. No, that's not strong enough for how I feel. I love you. I have for a long time." Cato searched her face for a response.

She stared in shock. Say something, you bumbling idiot! "Y-y-you have?"

He smiled at her. "Yeah, I have. But do you feel the same way?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Does that answer your question?"

Relief rushed through his body, and he couldn't stop smiling. Cato nodded. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

She smiled back at him. "Oh, I bet I do."

He leaned his forehead against hers, his big blue eyes so full of love. He could scarcely believe it. After years of silently longing for their friendship to become much more, fantasy became reality.

Clove laced her fingers through his. "Remember when we were 7 and you first started calling me Clover?"

Cato remembered that day very well.

Him and his schoolmates were kicking a hard rubber ball around in the yard behind the brick building school was held in. Someone kicked it too hard and it landed in the nearby meadow. Cato, wanting more than anything to be in the popular crowd, volunteered to go retrieve it. When he arrived there, though, he was shocked to find a small brunette on her knees, examining the ground intently.

"Whatcha doing?" He asked, extremely curious.

She didn't bother to look up at the blonde boy. "Looking for four-leafed clovers. They're supposed to bring good luck and Mommy says we could use all the luck we can get."

"I don't believe in all that superstition." Cato said matter-of-factly, his seven-year old tongue stumbling on the last word.

She shrugged indifferently. It was quite obvious she didn't care.

"What's your name? Mine's Cato." He felt compelled to get closer to this strange girl. He could tell by the way she talked and her amazing concentration that she was smart. The more he looked at her, the more beautiful she looked.

"Clove," she said, but a roar of laughter from the long-forgotten group behind Cato interrupted her, making him think she'd said "Clover."

The boy laughed. "Clover looking for clovers."

Her head snapped up. Cato's laughter stopped abruptly when he looked into her dark eyes. They were so deep, so… mesmerizing. "Clove!"

He returned his attention to her voice. "Huh?"

Clove sighed. "My name is Clove, you nincompoop! Not Clover!"

He looked down at his dingy school shoes and felt embarrassed. He didn't want to make this girl mad at him already. "Sorry." Then he had an idea. "Do you want me to help you?"

She studied him incredulously. "You want to help me?"

"Yeah. There's a lot of clovers and only one of you. I think you might need my help."

She sighed, clearly irritated by him, but nodded. "Sure."

They had been best friends ever since. "I do. That was the year I had my first crush, after all. She was beautiful and smart and funny."

Clove could not ignore the stab of jealously that his her heart like a rogue knife. She looked away once again, this time hiding the pain she knew was evident in her eyes. "Yeah."

"Clove, look at me."

She shook her head adamantly.

"Clover, please. Look at me!" At that point most guys would have grabbed her chin and forced her to look at them, but not Cato. He moved to meet her gaze. "That girl? She was, is, you."

"Really?" Clove felt embarrassed for her jealousy.

Cato nodded. "Yes, really. It's always been you, no one but you."

She leaned forward and kissed him as passionately as she dared. "I don't want to, but I have to go. I promised my mom I'd help her start on the meal for after the reaping."

Cato sighed and moved his head, but not before sneaking another kiss in. "See you later, Clover. I love you."

Clove walked to the door. "I love you, too." Then she walks out leaving Cato alone in to face his father.

He looked at the wristwatch his mother left him when she died. Even now, she's still helping him. Thanks to the watch, he can be prepared for his father when he came home. Any second now…

The door swung open, rattling the thin walls, and Cato knew that this time it wasn't Clove.

So, good, huh? review, pweeeeeeeeeeze!