A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a long time since I posted anything and I apologize for that. I've been busy with other stuff and now I might be more busy because I'm planning on moving across country to Florida. xD I wrote this a week or so ago, can't remember. Wasn't sure if I would post it or not. But yes, this is a Glee/Hunger Games crossover. Now, before you say anything in the reviews, yes, I am aware that it is very much the likeness of the first book. It may seem that way in the beginning because I want it to flow and be as accurate as possible and even though it's obvious who certain Glee charries are in THG, I promise that eventually it will take it's own course. This is a Klaine story and those of you who are familiar with y work will know that I can never kill off our boys so yes, they will be alive at the end. But be prepared for other major character deaths because this is The Hunger Games and we all know what happens there. By the way, did you guys know that Chris Colfer went to the midnight premiere? Awesome right? Yes! Now, on with the first chapter! Hope you enjoy!


Two o'clock.

I stand there with my hands repeatedly clenching and unclenching. I'm nervous. I glance forward to see my friend Lauren looking back at me. This is her last year for facing this. She's eighteen. I'm sixteen. She also has her name entered forty-two times this year. And mine? It's entered twenty.

Somewhere behind me at the back is my little brother Christopher. This is his first reaping.

We live in the Seam of District 12 in the country of Panem. We're poor and struggling to survive. Our mother passed years ago and our father is no longer able to work in the mines. I hunt daily, accompanied by Lauren. It's a tedious affair but it keeps us fed. I think about how Lauren and I had just gone hunting that morning.

"Happy Hunger Games!" I'm snapped out of my thoughts by the voice of Emma Pillsbury, escort for the tributes of District 12. Everyone knows she'd do anything to be promoted from our dirty and poor district. "And may the odds be ever in your favor." I roll my eyes. She says this every year.

Briefly, my eyes scan the crowd. I can see my father watching, his fists clenched like mine. He's frightened. Chris shouldn't have anything to worry about. This is his first reaping and I forbade him to sign up for tesserae so being twelve, his name is only entered once. If you sign up for tesserae, they give you one year's supply of grain and oil for every tesserae entry. You can do that if you're poor. But it increases your odds of being chosen.

That's what I've done every year since I was old enough to be submitted. Without the tesserae, my name would be entered only five times. They increase the entry with each year you're eligible. Twelve, one time, thirteen, two times, fourteen, three times, etc. It goes all the way to seven times at eighteen, the last eligible year.

I'm not too worried about Chris. He's only entered once. No way his name would be drawn against the approximate thousand other names in that bowl.

"And now District 12, we will select your tributes!" Emma went on. "Ladies first!" It is then that I notice a third person is joining her and the mayor. Sue Sylvester. Out of the two people from District 12 to have ever won the Hunger Games, she's the only one still alive.

My eyes fix on Sue and the bowl in which Emma is reaching to pull out a name at the same time. She unfolds the slip of paper and I turn my attention to her, eyes surpassing Lauren with the other eighteen year olds up front. I hold my breath.

"Santana Lopez!" Emma calls off the paper. I turn my head. I don't know Santana personally but I've seen her in school. She's in my year, daughter of the local medicine man. She doesn't seem frightened at all. She seems determined. She approaches the stage and stands next to Emma. "Do we have any volunteers?" Emma asks.

Volunteers. When a tribute is chosen, another eligible boy or girl may volunteer to take their place as tribute. I wait. No one volunteers to take Santana's place.

"And now for the boys!" I hold my breath again and clench my fists. This is it. I pray that it is not my name that she draws. If she doesn't draw my name, I'm safe for another year. She pulls out a paper and unfolds it. It's not my name.

It's Christopher Hummel.

For a moment I feel like my knees buckle. My eyes flit immediately to my little brother, standing at the back with the other twelve year olds. How? I think. His name was only in there once. He starts forward, toward the stage, his shirt untucked in the back. It's a little big on him.

I can't let him do this. I can't let them sacrifice Chris. I run forward. "Chris!" I shout. Peacekeepers stop me from making it to him. My brother turns. "Chris!" I shout again as he looks at me. "I volunteer!" I spit out suddenly. "I volunteer as tribute!"

For a moment everyone stops and stares at me. Chris is shaking his head violently. "No Kurt," he says. I swallow and look up at Emma, meeting her eyes. Sue seems beside herself.

"I like this porcelain one," she says.

"Well," says Emma. "You volunteer to take Christopher's place?" I nod. "And what is your name?" she asks.

"Kurt Hummel," I say. Santana is merely looking at me. Chris breaks down and starts screaming for me not to. I ignore him and make my way on stage. Lauren picks him up and carries him away, kicking and screaming.

Emma beams around at everyone. "Well, we have your tributes District 12. Santana Lopez and Kurt Hummel."

There is no applause. Instead silence passing through the people of District 12. After a moment, they raise their fingers to their lips. It's a silent praise to loved ones we do in District 12.

Santana and I are escorted off the stage, the cameras following our every move. Did I mention that we're being televised?

So here's the deal about the Hunger Games. Ever since the rebellion that ended up in the destruction of District 13, the Capitol has been running these Hunger Games annually. It's mainly a reminder to us all what they're capable of.

Once upon a time, Panem used to be a place known as North America and the wars tore it a part and rebuilding turned it into the Capitol, surrounded by thirteen districts. District 13 was destroyed in the rebellion. That was seventy-four years ago. This year will be the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games are televised so everyone in Panem can see the action. Twenty-four tributes, one boy, one girl from each district between the ages of twelve and eighteen are selected to travel to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. And what do they do? Kill each other off. We're sent into the arena to prove our survival. In the end, only one person will be the victor. The last person standing wins the Hunger Games. As a result, they become very wealthy and their district is treated to money and food.

Over the seventy-three previous Hunger Games, only two people have ever won for District 12. Sue Sylvester is the only one of those victors still alive.

Yes, it's brutal. But that's how life is in Panem. The Capitol runs everything.

Santana and I are pushed along to the Justice Building. They lead me into a room and tell me I have an hour to say good-bye. The room is rather cozy looking with a warm fire and nice little couch. I don't have much time to settle in.

My father Burt and Chris enter the room. I turn to look at them, my mind running on overdrive. My hair is slightly askew, a bit out of place. I've been running my hands through my perfect coif.

"Kurt," my father says, his eyes wide. Chris is sniffling beside him, but I know he's trying to be strong. "Kurt, come back to us. We need you. I need you."

I approach and place both of my hands on my father's shoulders. "Dad, promise me you'll take care of yourself. Promise me you'll take care of Chris," I say. He nods. I worry that he won't be able to handle it. I'm afraid he'll fall apart again, like he did when my mom died.

Chris looks at me, "Promise me you'll live. Promise me you'll come back," he says, head held high. I look at him. "Promise me you'll try your hardest to win."

For a moment, I'm not sure if I can win. The wealthier districts, such as Districts 1, 2, and 4, have the means of preparing their children, even though you're not supposed to. But those kids live the high life. The only thing I have to go on, aside from my hunting skills, is what I've seen when watching the Games every year.

"For you, I will try to win. I will give it my all Chris," I said finally. I'm able to hug them both. "I love you guys." The most they're allowed to do is repeat the endearment to me before the Peacekeepers are escorting them from the room.

I'm staring into the fire when Lauren walks in. She merely stands and looks at me for several moments.

"I'm going to fail," I say quietly. Lauren approaches and places a hand on my shoulder.

"You are not going to fail Kurt," she says. "You're excellent with a bow." I look at her.

"Not as good as my mother was." My mother was a damn good hunter, especially for a woman. She had an unfortunate encounter once with a Tracker Jacker nest. Tracker Jackers. They are one of the Capitol's muttations. They're wasps. But their stings fill your body with venom and drive you mad, if they don't kill you. It's said the stings grow to the size of a plum. My mother encountered a massive attack. After the wars, the Capitol just left them. They're all over the place. She didn't stand a chance.

The bad thing is if you upset or annoy a Tracker Jacker, they'll track you down. That's why they call them Tracker Jackers.

"Come on Kurt," Lauren says. "You're stronger than that. You have your hunting skills and your wits. You're a good observer and you don't take smack from anybody," she goes on. "You can do this. You can win this."

I stare at her for a long time. "What if there are no trees? What if the arena is pure desert sands or mountain terrain?" I ask. She furrows her brow in thought.

The thing about the Hunger Games, the arena the tributes have is different every year. One time they had open plains with practically nowhere to hide. The Games were short-lived that year.

"I highly doubt there'll be desert. They don't want a short battle again," she says. She's right. They wouldn't do that again. "They won't run dry on water either."

I remembered the year there was no water supply in the arena. Half the tributes were done in, in a matter of days from lack of water and dehydration. The Gamemakers won't do that again because the point is for tributes to kill each other, not all die of natural causes.

"You'll be fine," she goes on. "Kurt, you can work with anything they throw at you." She's right. I can probably make do with whatever they send my way.

A Peacekeeper enters then telling Lauren her time is up. I briefly hug her and turn away to look at the fire. I can do nothing but wonder what lay ahead. The hour is nearly up and I'm sure that Lauren has been my last visitor.

I'm wrong.

A moment later, the door opens again. I turn my head and look. It's Trent Nixon, the mayor's son. I furrow my brow.

"Hi Kurt," he says quietly.

"What are you doing here Trent?" I ask. My voice is full of surprise. Trent and I don't know each other that well, though we are of the same year. He's not snobbish by any means, even though he's the mayor's son. I'd seen him once that morning, when Lauren and I delivered strawberries for the mayor. Trent took them.

He holds out a small gold pin. It's a Mockingjay, a creature that is a descendent of one of the Capitol's mutts known as the Jabberjay. The Jabberjay was created so the Capitol could learn what the rebels were thinking. They were birds that recorded, recognized, and mimicked human speech. But when the rebels figured this out, they started sending lies. The Capitol disbanded Jabberjays but didn't count on them learning to fend for themselves. They mated with mockingbirds and as a result, Mockingjays were born. They make such beautiful music. He pins it to my shirt. "I thought you could use this as your token," he says looking at me.

A token. Each tribute is allowed to have a token of their district. Trent is very thoughtful for giving this to me.

"Thank you," I say, not sure what else to say to him. He offers me a smile and gives his head a short nod.

That's all he has time for. My hour is up. The Peacekeepers collect Trent and lead him from the room and than they come back for me.

The next few moments are like a blur. Cameras are following Santana and I as Emma and Sue walk us with the Peacekeepers to the car that will take us to the train station. I've never been on a train or in a car. We walk everywhere in the Seam. People are forbidden to travel between districts unless for business of some sort and that's very rare.

Even then, they don't take this kind of train. The one we board is headed for the Capitol and it goes 250 miles per hour. We'll be there in less than a day. Emma shows me to my room. It's luxury in every manor.

The bed looks plush and comfortable. I have my own bathroom, a fact I secretly squeal about. There are clothes waiting for me. Emma tells me to get cleaned up and meet her and Sue in the dining car for dinner in an hour.

An hour.

How can anyone expect me to clean in that time? There is a shower in the bathroom. I've never had a shower before. I pull out a simple red cardigan and some skinny jeans, shower quickly and fix my perfectly coifed hair before dressing in the clothes and heading out of the room.

When I reach the dining car, Santana, Emma, and Sue are already there. The meal is a lavish feast, soup, salad, followed by a delicate chicken smothered in gravy over white grains and vegetables. There's even a cake for dessert. I've never had so much food in my life and I feel nauseous.

Santana is dipping a roll in creamy brown stuff. "It's called hot chocolate," she says. "It's good."

I look at my own mug, preferring it to the dark liquid that must be what they call coffee. I sip the hot chocolate. It's the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. I down the cup. Though I'm not sure why Santana is dipping a roll in it. I wrinkle my nose at her.

She throws me a glare. "Got a problem pale boy?" she says harshly. I shake my head.

My stomach churns. I'm not used to such a delicate luxury. Santana looks a little green. She's not really used to it either.

"Thank the Capitol you two have proper eating manners," Emma says. I stare at her. Santana and I are both lucky to know some etiquette. My mother taught me some manners when I was younger. "Last year's tributes scarfed everything down by hand. You'd think they'd never eaten before."

This does not sit well with me. Just to annoy her, I clean the rest of my plate with my fingers, licking them off, though I wouldn't normally do something like this. Santana takes it a step further. She picks up her plate and licks it clean. Emma looks horrified.

Mission accomplished.

"All right, what can you two do?" says Sue. We look at her. She doesn't appear like she particularly likes either of us. But she's meant to mentor. Clearly, she doesn't care to bother.

"Kurt can hunt. He's good with a bow. He's a great shot. Rarely misses a target," Santana says. I stare at her in amazement. How the hell does she know that? We've never spoken to each other.

Sue looks at me. "That true Porcelain?" she snips. I slowly nod my head but shrug.

"I'm decent," I say. Santana scoffs.

"Decent is an understatement."

I look at her. "Well, you're pretty good punching people out with your hands," I say. She mimics the shrug I gave Sue. "You took Karofsky out with one punch once," I go on. She shrugs again.

"He was distracted by the razor blades in my hair," she says. Sue and Emma both stare at her.

"You have razor blades in your hair?" Emma asks. Santana scoffs.

"Yeah." I look at her, wondering if she's really telling the truth or not. I've heard people say that about her before, that she has razor blades in her hair. But no one's ever seen them so there's no proof that it's true.

Sue cuts into everyone's thoughts. "Well, I think I may finally have found some tributes who have potential." She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, sipping from a bottle of some strange liquid. "Fine, I'll give up enough of my precious time if you two make a success out of District 12."

I get the sense that she hasn't bothered with tributes in the past. Maybe that's why our district never wins.

After dinner we enter a sort of living room type place on the train and settle down to watch the recap of the reapings. They go in order.

No one stands out to me really. A blond girl and very tall giant boy from District 1, the girl makes me scowl. She looks like a rich bitch snob. Not surprised. It's District 1. The boy just looks clueless. There's a squash-faced girl from District 5. I wonder if there's something mentally wrong with her. It's cruel to make someone like that go into the Hunger Games. No one volunteers to take her place and I feel sort of bad. A twelve year old is actually chosen for District 11, a dark-skinned girl and I feel bad for her too. But than an older girl who looks like her volunteers to take her place. She turns out to be the girl's sister. She's done what I did. And then they close with our reaping. Showing me volunteering to take my brother's place and Chris being carried away crying.

But there is one tribute that caught my eye strongly. The boy from District 2, I know I shouldn't care because that's another snobby rich district. But he didn't look snobbish. He was rather short for a boy. His hair is in curls, plastered to his head by something, maybe grease of some kind. I'm not sure what. I can't get an absolutely good look at him, but he is gorgeous and after that, I don't think I will able to get him out of my mind.

"See something you like Hummel?" Santana asks me some moments after the reaping coverage ends. She is smirking at me.

"I…what?" She snickers. But I quickly recover, remembering that I hadn't missed the expression on her face when she saw the girl from District 8. "I could ask the same thing. Blonds? Didn't think they were you Santana." She scowls.

Emma claps her hands, switching off the television. "Sleep. We will be at the Capitol tomorrow morning," she says.

Santana and I stand up. We throw glares at each other and walk to our rooms. I can hear Emma and Sue muttering that if we keep jumping down each other's throats, District 12 won't last five minutes into the Games.

As I fall asleep, I can't help but think that they are right.


A/N: Well, what did you guys think? Definitely a bit AU because we all know Kurt doesn't have a little brother. xD But it fit with the premise. And I tried and tried to find ways to fit someone other than Santana in for the female District 12 tribute so I could put her somewhere else, but no one worked as well as she did. Please, please review and let me know what you think! Since I wrote this like a week ago or maybe a little more, I'm planning on writing the second chapter now and then if I'm feeling up to it, I will update at least one other story! Reviews make me smile and keep me writing. And again, yes, I know it's quite the likeness to the actual THG book but I promise in the future it will go differently! Happy reading and Happy Hunger Games!