The conference went about as expected. Lectures, pep rallies, swag bags, and overall cheeriness from executives and corporate sponsors. Perhaps the best part was meeting Johanna Mason and Annie Cresta – representing regional sales districts 7 and 4, respectfully – during the first lunch and knowing that she'd never have to face another one of those asinine team building workshops alone. Of course, veterans of the business themselves, they had been through this game several years in a row and knew just how to make the most of this trip, but they had let a first timer like her into their little duo like it was nothing at all. They introduced her to the people who really mattered, steered her away from the people who were nothing but time wasters or just shy of creepy, and once the official work day ended, they let her tag along with them to dinner on the Strip. They were in Las Vegas, after all, why not enjoy some good food and shopping?
However, eventually it comes time for the Leadership Conference to end, and for the vendors to close shop, goodbyes to be said, and for everyone to jump ship. Always to one to save a pretty penny when possible, Katniss is planning on taking an early afternoon flight the next day and happens to be watching most everyone she had met over the weekend leave with overloaded bags from the safety of hotel lobby's balcony when Jo plops down beside her. She's nearly as silent as Katniss is while hunting and her sneak attack thus manages to make Katniss spill some of her diet coke over the novel she had been reading.
"Whatcha doin' brainless?"
Dabbing at the pages of her book, Katniss rolls her eyes at the nickname she picked up over the weekend, earned by mistakenly calling one of the co-owners of the company by the name of the other. A faux-pas, yes, but certainly not worth the immortality of a namesake. "Catching up on some reading. My flight doesn't take off until tomorrow. How about you guys?"
Jo has a glint in her eye, smiling at Annie before looking back at her. "Oh we aren't leaving for another two days. We've been on our best behavior for the conference, but now we can let loose! Why don't you join us?"
She leans back, the idea of 'letting loose' enough to make her weary. Katniss wasn't a 'let loose' sort of girl. She's never had the time or energy to be even if she had wanted to. She was had been a carefree child until her her father passed away in a work related accident when she was barely a preteen, and then she quickly learned to take care of her family. If she wasn't working as hard as possible at school to keep her grades up and prevent any extra homework later, she was home taking care of a despondent mother and a little sister who didn't know why there was only cereal for dinner for the third night in a row. As soon as she had been able to get a job, she did. She worked as many hours as she could, putting food on the table, keep the lights on, and preventing child services from knocking. She had even managed to keep Prim from taking on too many hours when she eventually started working after school so Prim could keep her main focus on her grades and still enjoy a fairly normal high school experience. Katniss, not so much. Her one attempt at a high school relationship had been a disaster and it didn't get much better afterward.
"I don't know..."
"What other plans do you have?" Annie's kind, curious voice isn't nearly as abrasive as Johanna's, which somehow makes it so much worse.
"Nothing, I guess." Her voice was already defeated, "I was just going to read in my room and maybe grab something cheap from the McDonald's next door."
Jo's nose turns up in disgust. "You really are living up to that name, aren't you. Look, I like the nug life as much as anyone but we are in Vegas hun, and we are going to do it right. You are crashing with us, and we are taking you out. No arguments, no questions, and for the love of God no McDonald's. Got it?"
From that point forward, it seems like a game to keep the night a surprise for Katniss. They had gotten to know one another a bit during the conference, and while she wasn't quite as shy as Annie, at least not on the surface, she wasn't nearly as outgoing and Jo was. Jo was like fire, burning hot, cracking and burning anew every time a log was placed on it. Annie was water, slow and steady on the surface but full of currents and constantly moving underneath. And Katniss...well she wasn't sure yet. But they seemed to know her better than herself sometimes, just like so many people did.
"I'm going to do your makeup. Trust me, you'll want to look your best for tonight."
"Will you tell me anything?"
They share another secret smile.
"Food, a show, dancing, drinks." It's a fairly vague answer, but at least it's something. And as for the for the first three...that's no problem. Katniss likes food. There's plenty of great shows in Vegas that Katniss would love to see. She hasn't really been dancing, not really, but her and Prim would turn up the music from time to time and dance in the living room. That has to count for something, right? Drinking, though...that might be a problem.
Rather than seeming like a fool again in front of her new friends again, she allows herself to be pulled by Jo to the window with her makeup bag as she starts applying layers of foundation and powder with more precision than Katniss had ever been able to do herself. When her own supplies are found wanting, Jo searches her own bag and occasionally Annie's as well, even going as far as to sacrifice a pair of her false lashes to the cause.
By the time Katniss is allowed a mirror, the image in front of her hardly looks like her. Or it does, but an odd version of herself. Better perhaps? She wants to believe that this version of herself is more confident, more bold, a warrior and someone who can take on the world with no fear, but she's not sure.
Annie had raided her own wardrobe, deeming whatever Katniss brought as "professional wear" to be way too lackluster for their night on the town and giving her a mix of both her's and Johanna's backup outfits. It's simple and monochromatic, with the only real detail being a jeweled collar on the tunic top, but it's all she really wants; not wanting to stand out too much. Against Jo's short skirt and cropped top, she should hardly be noticed. Even Annie is showing more skin in her flirty sundress.
Dinner the past few nights has been in more family style restaurant, something unique to Vegas rather than a chain but something still fairly low key. However, tonight they stop at a steakhouse with white linen tablecloths and tuxedo-clad waiters. The scent of seared meat was practically calling to them from the street, begging them to dine. In the front window, several cuts of beef hang like decorations in a high-end boutique and while the sight should be enough to make a vegetarian cringe, for her, someone who had been hunting and hanging her own meat with her father since she was a child, the image was one of pure indulgence. Her mouth is watering already. She was used to the taste of deer from her hunts, but she knows the milder taste of beef will be just as wonderful.
The hostess takes them to a small table near the corner, already set with small candles. They stuff themselves with appetizers, salads, entrees, sides (because of course they aren't included in a place this fancy) and desserts. The final bill comes in, and even splitting it three ways it's by far the most expensive meal she's ever purchased for herself. They didn't even spring for coffee but it's worth every penny because the steak hardly needed to see a knife to slice itself.
She could easily end the night now and be happy, but her companions have other ideas.
She asked about the show several times, but neither Annie nor Jo would spill on what they were seeing. She hopes it was one of the Cirque Du Solis pieces, but as they began to move from hotel to hotel, it becomes increasingly clear that a headline show is less likely. The eventually stop in front of a big indoor courtyard advertising several options, none of them promising acrobatics.
"What's this?" Katniss reads some of the various signs in disdain, and one in the utmost horror. 'Zombie' and 'Burlesque' are two things that she never would have paired together.
"Our show!" Annie sounds almost giddy as Johanna goes to grab the tickets from will call booth. "We already picked yours up, I hope that's okay. We figured it would be better to keep the surprise."
"I still don't see why you guys insist on keeping it a surprise." Katniss's voice trails off, fading in volume while increasing in worry.
"Honestly, it's because you seem a bit..."
"Pure."
"Excuse me?" Her head whips around, catching the last moments of Jo sauntering over to them with three long tickets in her hand.
"You grew up in a small town, in the middle of Nowhere, West Virginia, and you seem a bit sheltered and overprotected."
"It's not a bad thing," Annie insists, though the eye roll from her partner in crime suggests otherwise, "you're just a little...tame compared most people. It's fun breaking out of your shell."
"And you think that taking me to some magic show is going to change that?"
It's a desperate hope. There were dozens of shows being advertised and those tickets could be for any of them, but she was pretty sure that the relatively safe magic show wasn't the choice that these girls had made. The brutally sharp laugh from Jo simply confirms it.
As she's handed one of the tickets, she prays for anything else: hypnotism, a comedy show, even the knock off Elvis show if it comes to it, but fate isn't kind to her. She's being thrown into the arena with "The Men of Vegas."
"A Strip Show?"
"Technically, I think they call it a 'male review,' but yes, we're going to a strip show baby!"
She's in shock, or at least, she thinks she is. That must be what this feeling of debilitating fear is, not to mention the confusion between running like mad in her sensible wedge heels and fighting her new found friends until someone finally tells her it's okay and she doesn't have to stare at men taking their off their clothing in front of her.
Somehow they pull her up the stairs and into the waiting area, even past the burly security guard that checks her ID to make sure she's well past the age of consent to see such nudity. It isn't until Jo is shoving some fake bills with the show's logo on them that she snaps out of her daze and into the real world again.
It's labeled as Magic Money, promising lots of fun in exchange for a fist full of dollars. Her throat tightens at the thought. Some of the 'boys' that will soon be on stage, currently fully clothed in sweats and logo tees are handing out more of these bills in exchange for real cash, but she can't seem to look at any of them.
"You okay there, Brainless?"
"I need water." She gets up quickly, heading to the bar faster than her feet can carry her and running into someone less than two steps away from her seat.
"Whoa there, Sweetheart." Male. For the most part, the only men here are the strippers and she can't bring herself to look at him, though she sees a glance of blond messy blond curls. He smells of cinnamon too, and something almost herbal. And a little bit like baby oil. He's still steadying her from her jolt to the bar for a cup of water, but the fact that he's holding her close enough that she can smell him is enough to unnerve her even more.
"I'm sorry." She ducks out of his grasp without another word, barely hearing his goodbye.
Their seats are perfect. At least according to Johanna. They aren't dead center in the theater but on one of the aisles. While this might be less than perfect in a movie theater, when you are looking for a lap dance at some point, it gives the dancers pretty good access. It also seems that for her companion's maximum entertainment, they situated her at the very end so they can make the most of her embarrassment.
She tries to fight it, she really does, but they won't allow a word of protest. The ten minutes of fidgeting in her chair and staring at the exit seem to be the longest in her entire life as she contemplates every possible means of escape. Soon, the house lights are dimming in favor of strobes. Music is blasting and bridal parties are filling the room with their loud squeals of delight. It's all Katniss can do to stay in her chair and she can't tell what she wants to do more: cover her ears or her eyes. She ends up covering her mouth though when a stray curse falls from it, torn out of her in surprise when a hand brushes her shoulder. A tall man with bronze hair and eyes that look like they were a gift from Poseidon himself winks at her as saunters up the aisle. He has no right looking as good as he does, and with the smirk plastered across his face, he knows it. He's fully clothed but he's already making the women swoon around him.
Not a single man on stage looks anything less than amazing, and that makes sense to her. It's their business to look attractive after all. The women around her are still cheering, clapping with the beat as they dance and move. Annie bumps her shoulder, trying to get her to play along, but Katniss retreats further into her chair as if it could somehow swallow her whole.
She does try hard to appreciate the dancing because truly they are talented. It isn't just the "sexy" dancing that one might expect from some sort of hidden burlesque-style show. Not just swaying or gyrating. This is much closer to some sort of hip hop or break dancing show. The boys – men – are doing flips and making sharp movements. They're in the air one moment and on the ground the next. It's almost hard to follow and somewhat fascinating and completely entrancing in a way. She doesn't even realize her elbows are on her knees, her chin in her palms until they tear their thin shirts away so quickly she doesn't even have time to blink.
Katniss screams.
Well, all the women do, but she screams for a whole different reason. Next to her, she can hear Annie laughing and Johanna gives her a very dramatic eye roll to let her know that her little episode didn't go unnoticed. Thankfully, they seem to be the only ones who care about her issues at the moment. Everyone else is too preoccupied with the half naked men now making their way through the crowds. They are still keeping some distance, but that doesn't stop some women from brushing their hands against their bodies whenever – or wherever, she notices, aghast – they can.
It isn't much longer before they are back on stage. She lets out a sigh of relief as she notices the man in the middle. It's the man she had run into in the lobby, the one with the blonde curls who had caught her and kept her from falling. She hesitantly smiles, remembering his kind gesture right before they all rip their sweatpants and the lights shut off. Her mind is left with the searing image of blond hair, blue eyes, and a pair of tight black briefs.
There are several other dancers before she sees him again, but perhaps more upsetting are the "rules" that are laid down for the audience. The stage master, a charismatic but ostentatious man by the name of Ceaser, was assuring them that anything was okay as long as they were "gentle with the equipment," as he put it. The only thing that puts her slightly at ease is the promise that there was a mutual respect for space. Say the word and they would let you be, and if they ask you to stop and you didn't, out you went. The spotlight on the bouncer at the door was the only reminder for the rest of the evening.
Granted, several of the men look quite capable of tossing you out themselves. The man Ceaser dubbed at one point "Dark Chocolate," is so tall and imposing that he would probably be terrifying to meet in some circumstances. However, he has an amazing porousness in the way that he moves. He passes her at one point, locking eyes for just a moment and the intensity of his stare is actually enough to stir something in her. Not lust, exactly, but an awakening of sorts. She can tell that she doesn't want him but she wants what he is about. She wants intensity, she wants sexuality, she wants him to lay her down like he was currently laying that lucky girl on stage and...
"Holy shit, is he hovering over her?"
Annie's exclamation is a spot on mirror of her thoughts, as she watches this beast of a man spring onto his hands, standing upside down with a palm either side of the girls face, and lower himself gently to graze a quick kiss on either side of her neck, rising again between each one. Katniss didn't blame her one bit as she arches back a little to meet him, giving him even more space to explore, as she finds herself subconsciously doing the same. He gives one last lingering kiss just above the valley of her breasts among the hushed voices of the crowd and thumping base of the music before lowering his body in a gentle curve to straddle his willing victim. And slowly, Katniss finds herself becoming more and more open and willing, even curious, as she continues to watch the show.
When the blond man does finally show himself again, at least enough for her to notice among all the other noise and lights, he does so in a bathtub filled with water. Initially, he's dressed in swim trunks but cheekily he loses those along the way and is eventually reduced to keeping his modesty with a very tiny towel that is probably smaller than the one she has been using to dry her face with at the hotel. It certainly proves that it can't keep him covered both front and back, and Johanna isn't the only one to comment on how good he looked from behind, completely exposed.
She can't keep those images out of her mind, though, even when other dancers return to the stage. Men who are tall and dark, who she can perhaps imagine being her ex if she tried. Or that first man who had surprised her when the show started and was arguably more attractive, at least by an objective eye. No matter how Jo, Annie, and the dozens of other women (and occasional man) cheer, all she can see is the water dripping down her blond man's wide shoulders and the broad planes of his chest. She even squirmed a little in her seat as the rouge thought of licking that sweet liquid off him, and how she suddenly felt so completely thirsty.
She's so distracted in her thoughts that she doesn't realize what's going on until Jo smack's her, telling her to pull out her cash. She listens obediently, but it didn't occur to her why until she started seeing the guys grinding and gyrating on various girls. Her eyes widen and she struggles to try to replace the fake money in her pocket when she sees him.
Her hand pauses, just slightly extended. Perhaps he mistakes it as an offering, or perhaps she means it to be, but he bypasses several other women who are vying for her attention. He gives her a little room at first, keeping eye contact and several inches between them. When she doesn't push him away, He steps closer, so that his leg brushes against her thigh. Her breath hitches a little with the sudden warmth that filled her core, but his smile reassures her a little. With so many things she probably should be looking at right now, she's surprised to find herself focusing on his eyes, but why shouldn't she? She's never seen eyes quite that shade of blue. Maybe it's just the lights in here, but it almost seems to be unnatural. Even the length of his lashes, the same blond color of his hair, seems unreal. How in the world does he manage to blink without them getting tangled? There's no doubt that he's beautiful, but he's also extremely sexy. There are many men here that fit that description, but she hasn't felt a pull to them like she feels a pull to this man. Her hand tentatively grazes his forearm, entranced with the need to touch him in some way but feeling unable to do so as brazenly as the other women seem able to.
He allows her to trace the sinews of his arm, feeling the corded muscles of his bicep before he gently takes her hand in his, directing it towards his abs. She would never have ventured to do so on her own, but with his guidance, she doesn't resist him. Her fingertips brush his taunt stomach as he sways, his hips drawing him a bit closer to her. Typically, she would have pulled back and tried to put as much distance as possible between them but he put her at ease. There was something in his eyes that made her trust him.
He presses her palm flat against his chest, her fingers spreading wide to touch as much of him as possible. She can feel his heart thumping to the beat of the base, but hers is fluttering a mile a minute. His dimpled smile and the way his teeth pulled on his bottom lip made her want to dig her nails into his skin to pull him even closer. Instead, he snatches a few of the fake bills from her hand, pulling his black briefs away just far enough to tuck them in. Her eyes quickly flashed towards the paper folded by his hip, slightly disappointed to see them securely stashed away and the fabric already pulled tight against his skin once more. He raises her chin at the last moment, though, leaning down to give a gentle kiss on her temple.
He moves away quickly afterward, on to the next girl flashing her cash and screaming for his attention. Every girl seems to get some moment intimacy from him, but despite her knowing that she was just one of probably dozens of face that he probably saw and then promptly forgot, she can't keep from seeking him out as he moves about the audience. Even when there are other men nearby, including the bronze haired demigod teasing both Annie and Jo at the same time, Katniss is still distracted by looking for her boy behind their little private show. Occasionally, she could have sworn that he was looking at her too, but she knows that it was just foolishness and the butterflies in her stomach.
Her frustration grows when some half drunk girl in a too-small white dress and sash proclaiming her a "bride to be" grabs his butt and pulls him close, too close, holding him there as he dances. The girls around her shriek, urging her to go even further as she happily obliges them. She was practically harassing the poor guy, teasing the edge of his briefs as he stood over her with that plastered smile. It seemed like the only thing that kept her mouth from finding its way to his skin were those fake breasts that jut out from her and threaten to spill over her dress.
With a kiss on her hand and a wink, he does manage to escape her grasp and start making his way back to the stage with his comrades by the end of the song. The damage is done, though, with Katniss's arms, legs, and feelings cross. She had no claim on him; she didn't even know his name and would likely never learn it or see him outside this room. Still, none of that seems to change the bitterness that is inexplicably swelling inside her.
She didn't know where the thought comes from, and she certainly didn't know when she makes the decision to actually act on it, but the loud smack sounds before good sense and decency make her think clearly enough to stop herself. It doesn't even register what has happened until her palm start stinging and he looks back at her, lips parted slightly to mimicking an iota of her surprise and one of his dimpled cheeks (the ones on his face this time) turn up in amusement before he started back towards the stage once more without further assault.
Ladies around her start cheering for her, praising her actions. Even some of the other dancers on stage pump their fists and call out to her, bring more attention to her moment of insanity as they clap their friend on the back. All the feelings of running out the door return, but Annie's arms surrounded her in a hug, her laugh like a wind chime over everyone else as she whispered in her ear.
"Oh my goodness, I cannot believe you did that!"
The same thought keeps running through Katniss's mind as well. Thankfully, the room's attention is quickly distracted.
"What do you think ladies? Are you ready to finally meet the men of your dreams?" The emcee's pastel blue suit was a stark contrast to the next-to-nothing the others were wearing. "How about we introduce them with a game? I want to hear who our most popular bachelor is for the night! All you have to do is share the love when they step forward and we'll see who wins?"
Every single man receives hearty applause: Thresh, Cato, all the other names she forgets pretty quickly. The most ruckus applause sounds for Finnick, who when introduced promptly turns around and lowers his pants, underwear and all, about six inches, much to the delight of nearly every girl in the room. Even over Jo's hoots and hollers, she can hear Annie's dreamy sigh. Katniss is probably the only one who purposely looks away, tucking her chin tight her her chest until another name is called.
"And everyone loves that boy-next-door you can bring home to your mother. Just don't let her know where you met him, okay? It will be out little secret. Ladies and gentlemen, Peeta!"
The cat calls are nearly as loud as they are for Finnick, especially when he suddenly shows off his strength and agility by doing a backflip, only catching himself on one hand before landing solidly on his feet again. His grin is bright and sure, not cocky like some of the others had been but instead exuding confidence. Encouraged by the others, he gives a small spin before bowing.
A hand smacks her shoulder, snapping Katniss from her staring. "Oh my God, Katniss! We do not leave marks on the strippers!"
She rubs the sore spot where Jo had hit her while following where she's now pointing. A red, five-fingered mark was starting to show just above Peeta's waistband where her hand had been just a few minutes before. Her cheeks began to flush the same rosy color as the realization strikes her.
There were several other dances, but all she can see is that hand print, mocking her. The one time she dares to look at his face, Peeta winks at her. She honestly doesn't know what is worse.
"Are you lost?"
She recognizes him, vaguely at first and then with embarrassing certainty. His eyes stand out to her most, just like they had in the low light of the auditorium, followed by the brilliance of his smile that had to be manufactured by some extensive orthodontic work. She should just turn around and run, or maybe walk away slowly like she would from some dangerous animal, but she can't move for some reason.
"Um, no. Well, not really. My friends...I just...I think they're still inside." Katniss points back towards the doors to the show hall she had just left upstairs. "I just got separated from them. I figured I would find them if I waited here. I think they are taking pictures." Her bottom lip clamps down hard between her teeth to stop the rambling as she shoves her hand into the skinny jeans that she had been forced to wear.
He just chuckles and offers his hand good naturally. "I'm Peeta."
"I know. I mean, hi. I'm Katniss." Was there any way to make this introduction any more awkward? This man had been practically naked and grinding himself on her less than an hour ago.
"Did you enjoy the show?"
"Yeah! You guys were fantastic. Not that I have anything to really compare it to."
"First time?"
She nods. "And you just so happened to be my first lap dance."
"Well I hope I was gentle," he grins consciously, speaking from the corner of his mouth.
"Kat! There you are!" Johanna's call comes loudly from the balcony above, catching Katniss's attention, as well as Peeta's and everyone else in the nearby vicinity. Katniss ducks her head a bit as Joanna pulls Annie down the stairs, both of them still giggling but one much more obnoxiously than the other.
"Where did you go? You disappeared." Annie seems a bit nervous that she had been left alone with Johanna's much more aggressive personality without someone to back her up, at least in that setting, but she and Jo had been friends for much longer than Katniss has been in the picture and she certainly knows how to hold her own.
"Oh, I got turned around and couldn't find you. I figured you would eventually make it out here so I just waited for you." She gestures to Peeta who waves at the two new faces in front of him. "I met a friend in the meantime."
Annie recognizes him immediately and looks at her with wide, surprised eyes. Jo takes a moment or two before figuring it out, but the moment she does, she's pretty vocal about her realization. "You're one of the strippers!"
Both Annie and Katniss seemed aghast at her sudden (if dead-on) accusation, but he simply laughs.
"Sorry," she apologized, "it took me a second to recognize you with your clothes on."
Only Jo could sincerely apologize for not recognizing the naked man she had seen moments ago rather than outing him in a public place.
"You know, and I mean this in the most flattering way possible, but you guys are great dancers! I mean, good enough to keep your clothes on if you wanted too."
There's a timid rosiness coloring his cheeks, even as he chuckles and puts on a show of looking genuinely hurt, his hands covering his heart as if the mere thought pains him. However, before he can say anything, an arm comes around his shoulder.
"But I like taking my clothes off."
Peeta laughs at the Adonis-like man hanging off of him and his pitiful worry. "Don't worry Finnick, I'm sure nobody will object to taking your clothes off. Not for a long, long time."
Johanna leers pointedly at the tall, copper haired man, and made a throaty noise of agreement that sounded almost like a moan. Annie peers off to the side with a blush that seems to make this Finnick guy even more amused.
"We'll ladies, what do you think about heading over to the bar for the after party?"
"I think that sounds pretty good. I'm pretty sure I owe you a drink anyway, right Katniss?"
Peeta's comment earns a sidelong look from everyone else in our mismatched little party, and before she can shrug off his invitation, Jo was accepting on her behalf and pulling them across the faux courtyard towards the sports bar.
The extent of her drinking before had been limited to accidentally grabbing the wrong cup once at the only post high school party she had dared attend with her ex, and his laughter at her sputtering was enough for her to swear off the stuff for quite a while afterward. The taste wasn't that great either. Despite being well over the drinking age, a focus more on school and getting herself and her sister out of that dead-end hometown where she grew up kept her away from the party scene where most drinking reigned during college.
Tonight, however, her inhibitions are already lowered. She doesn't have much to lose, either. A flight is scheduled back to that same hometown that she had managed to lift her sister out of but couldn't scramble away from herself. She has no boyfriend and no prospects due to her slim pickings and her even surlier nature. So why not let some nice looking guy buy her a drink? And if she had seen him in next to nothing just a moment ago while women screamed for him and slipped dollar bills in his underwear...so be it.
Peeta pats a spot next to him at the bar, offering her a hand as she makes the little hop to the seat. "I'm paying," he insists, "So just let me know what you like and I'll order."
Before Katniss can protest, claiming that it isn't necessary, her eye catches the list of specials, the row of taps, and what appears to be miles and miles of different bottles, mixers, and more. Not a word comes out.
"Crap...I've seen that look before." His hand brushes hers as she tries to make sense of the different drinks. "Have you ever had any of these? Is this your first time?" Simultaneously they look around, finding the rest of the group at a booth with several others from Peeta's job. "Would you rather..."
"No!" she cut him off sharply, making him jump slightly and pull his hand away. "No. I'm sorry. I'm fine. You might just need to suggest something, though. I don't know where to start."
Her embarrassed plea seems to touch him. He smiles gently, and with a nod sets to the serious task of finding the right drink. "Do you like sweet things?"
"I...um, I guess. I like the occasional treats but not I don't get them often."
He flips through a few of the special pages, gnawing on his lips a little and silently mumbling to himself here and there. Every once and a while asks her questions.
"Tomato?" No.
"Cranberry." Yes, but not a ton.
"Sour." Not her favorite, but she can take it.
"Herbal?" Sure.
"Got it."
And with that, he waves the bartender over. "Her Darius. Can we get a Gin Buck and a Mojito?"
The bartender gets to work, immediately mashing ingredients together: limes, syrups, some herbs that look like mint and various elixirs that she can't read the bottles of because he's working so fast. He didn't do any of that fancy tossing or twirling tricks that people, including herself, had almost come to expect from a Las Vegas barman, but she was amazed nonetheless by the mystery of his craftsmanship by the time the two drinks were placed in front of them. One is in a short, stout, rounded copper cup. The other in a tall, slender and clear glass. Both are topped with limes.
"Okay, here's the deal. Feel free to taste both, let me know which one you prefer and keep it. I'll take the other. If you don't like either of them, we'll try again until we get one right. Got it? We can make either of these sweeter if needed, but I figured it would be a good place to start."
"You don't have to do that -"
"I insist! Please! I was the youngest of my brothers and friends so I never got to do the whole 'take my friend drinking for the first time' thing so this is actually really fun for me."
She hates owing anyone. She doesn't like owing money, she doesn't like owing favors, and the thought of owing this man for this drink, much less for the generosity he was showing for his kindness was enough to make her hesitant.
"Please, let me treat you. Katniss?"
But there it was again...that question. It's in the way his voice rise at the end, reminding her that he is still as uncertain as she is. Maybe he's uncertain about her name, or how she will take his offer, or just about her in general, but he's as uncertain as she is. Maybe that was enough to make this okay because if they were both uncertain, and it was just for today with no promise of tomorrow, then what can it hurt?
"Fine. Just one drink, though. I'm paying for the next one." She doesn't miss the way he neglected to answer her, but it was quickly forgotten when the pleasantly unexpected burst of flavors from the copper cup surprises her a moment later.
A drink turns to a conversation about the charity that Peeta and his group works with regularly, teaching dance classes for children with special needs. He lights up talking about the children, especially some in particularly that he has gotten to know over a while. After a second drink, that again Peeta picks and pays for, she ventures to ask how long he had been in Las Vegas and dancing with the Boys of Vegas.
"I didn't come here with this in mind, but I needed to get away from my family. I had taken up dance classes as a child at my mother's request and figured I could move here, Las Angeles, or New York. Well, LA and NY were too expensive for me at the time so I moved here. Moved in with Finnick and he's the one who hooked me up with a job. Initially, I figured I would probably get something at a hotel for a while, like a waiter or something, until I could get a job in one of the shows off strip and work my way inward. I enjoy what I do though, and I enjoy the guys I work with, and while it may not be the most prestigious thing in the world, there is a certain thrill knowing that it would piss my mother off to no end that those years of dance classes made me into the stripper I am today."
She snorts at his final words, covering her face in fear that something might come out of her nose if she doesn't. His hand finds her shoulder to steady her, but the little shock it sends through her body seems to unbalance her in a completely new way.
"Hey, guys!" Finnick's call breaks their moment, stalling their laughter for the moment. His arm is swung around Annie while Jo seems to be pretty content next to the pair. "We're thinking about hitting one of the clubs for some dancing. Whadya say?"
Honestly, she doesn't want to. It was part of the plan before, yes, but that was before this drink, this conversation, before Peeta. There's a part of her that just wants to stay and continue talking to him. She tries to rationalize it by saying that this has always been how she is: she prefers the company of one or two people over a large party. She doesn't like change once she's settled in. She's rather boring, honestly. But there is a hidden part of her that is nagging at the real reason she refuses to acknowledge.
And that reason is currently looking at her with questioning eyes and an extended hand.
"Well, if you can teach a bunch of children to dance, perhaps I'm not beyond hope."
They end up in at a club that they can hear before they see, but it's still open to the air so that the people, lights, and party can be seen from outside. Another quick ID check and Annie is pulling her into the throng of people. On the stage, a DJ is at a mix table and in the center of it all, there is a round bar with several quick working bartenders. She even quirks a smile as one of them flips a bottle over his head in one of the tricks she had been missing earlier.
"So glad we got our drinks in before, these guys are gonna cost us an arm and a leg."
"Huh?" Annie is still dancing a bit on her toes, but her attention is obviously torn between the crowd and the man she's attached to.
"He means the bar," Peeta clarifies, nodding towards the blue tower that offers some lighting to their work. "He's just bitter because we get a discount at the sports bar. We're there after ever show for the after party."
The girls all give a nod of understanding, but thoughts are already racing in Katniss's mind about how many drinks Peeta has bought for other women after a show. How many times has he flirted with girls at the after party? It's probably part of his job, just like it's part of his job to make them feel desired at the show itself. She keeps trying to remind herself that it doesn't matter, but the words sound emptier each time.
The music soon overcomes the doubts, though, and they are dancing along to club beat with other indistinguishable bodies who come and go without notice. There's a strong scent of beer, sweat, and various perfumes in the air, but it all blends into something that is oddly inoffensive after a few minutes. She sticks to Johanna and Annie for the first little while, but it's easy to see that she is easily outranked by her companions, and all three of them are no match to the professionals who watch them in the middle. While it doesn't seem to bother them one bit, her sense of self-consciousness is starting to rear its head again.
"I thought you were going to teach me to dance. It looks like you're just laughing at me." Her scowl sends another pulse of laughter through him, but he offers his hand in supplication. Instead of giving her a tip of two, he pulls her close so they are hip to hip.
"It's not exactly the studio, but if you really want me to teach you how to dance, I'd be happy to try." She nods and he continues. Despite the fact that he only has whisper because they are so close, he tells her, "Well, you'll have to stick by me, so you can hear me, okay?"
Feel his instruction is more like it.
A new song starts and he whispers a word that she misses. She's too embarrassed by her distraction to ask him to repeat it but he does go on to explain that it's a Latin dance (despite the song being a popular one that she had heard quite often on the radio recently) and while one of her hands is gripping his upper arm, the other is held in his palm near their shoulders. She can hear him counting beats which she could only assume was for her benefit, but the feeling of his breath against her is almost too distracting. She still has no clue what she is doing, but by God, she was moving. And she isn't stepping on his toes. His hand presses against her mid back keeping her close to him, feeling every push and pull that he makes, but she is dancing.
And then it's over.
He steps away with a smile and a small clap for her, while in her slight tipsy giddiness Katniss gave a bow. Of course, she stumbles, making her, Peeta, and the others who had been caught up in the little show laugh anew. For someone who is typically very graceful and light on her feet, two drinks and a whole bunch of nerves has made her a bit more tipsy than normal.
They don't have any more little Latin dance lessons for a while after that, but eventually the effects of the drinks wore off and the music became the prime drug of the night. Finnick and Annie were found closer more often than not, Johanna slips in and out of the embrace of a few men and women but is more than comfortable on her own, and had no qualms about stealing both Peeta and Finnick for a dance or two, but no matter what, Peeta and Katniss keep coming back together.
She brushes off the attention of every other guy, including the playful advance of Finnick who she knows has no real want for the night. At least not from her. She just rolls her eyes at his tired pickup lines and overtly sexual moves.
When Peeta steps behind her, though, his hands finding her waist and gradually moving lower until they rest on her hips and she is pressed up against him and they are moving together, she doesn't move away. She isn't even tempted to. If anything, she's tempted to press even closer to him. She wants to feel every part of his body against her.
She allows him to lead her like he had when they had been dancing in a more, well, "proper" way. Her hips dip with his, swaying side to side and chasing his movements. It feels more and more natural with every passing beat of the song, the way they fit and the way they move until it feels like they have been doing this together. She can almost start to anticipate what he will do just by the way his hips move against hers and she lets her head fall back against his chest with a smile.
Just when she thinks she has him figured out, one of the hands that he had firmly placed on her hip starts to move slowly up her body, creating a trail of electric shocks in its wake. As he passes her chest, he lets his fingers just barely brush the side of her breast, and she knows that she lets out a moan. She can feel his a rumble in his chest in reply. He takes her arm, letting his fingertips tickle the soft skin on the underside of it, and brings it up to circle his neck as he leans down to kiss hers. Her fingers automatically find purchase in his curls, now even wilder than they were before, as she tries to tether herself to the ground while his lips drive her wild in a way that the strip show never could.
She whispers his name, and how he hears it over the noise, even with their proximity, is something she doesn't understand nor questions. Especially when he suddenly grips her tight and pulls her even closer. Close enough that she can feel every bit of hardness at her back. From the strength of his biceps to the tightness of his abs, all the way down to the noticeable firmness that was starting to rub against her ass every time she moves.
She doesn't know how much longer they last before he tells her the words that have been racing through her mind.
"I need you. Please."
She nods, and they both sigh in blessed relief when he takes her hand and leads her outside.
His fingers are tapping against the center console the entire drive, and that coupled with the otherwise silent car make her mind race. Maybe they should have gone to her hotel room instead. It would have been a longer walk, but...no his place is better.
"Wait. Didn't you say you lived with Finnick?"
"I did. I moved out last year."
"Oh."
Maybe they should have grabbed a cab. Then she could be making out with him on the ride to his place rather than this tense silence. Making out would be better than this awkwardness, right? Well, then he'd have to get another cab to get his car and...
She felt fingertips brushing against her thigh and her fingers close on them instantly.
"What are you thinking about? Do you want to go back?"
"No. Just...thinking. Thinking too much." And she was, especially when that one invading thought came back in full force. "Have you ever done this before?"
"Sex?"
"No. I mean, sure I guess, but I mean, this, I guess." Her other hand gesture between them and his eyes widen in understanding.
"You mean, have I ever brought someone home after a show?"
She nods, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible. If she was 'going home with a stripper,' did it really matter if she was the first of one of many? Did it make a difference if she genuinely cared about him?
"No, never. Katniss, no."
Her hand slips out of his, unsure if it was enough. Her body was quickly thrust to the side though as the car made a quick and not entire legal stop on the side of the road. Within seconds, Peeta had both of her hands in hers, twisting her gently like he had while they were dancing so that she would look at him.
"I didn't want to take you home for a score. I know those guys, I've worked with them. They never lasted long and thank goodness for small blessings because they were annoying as hell. I may have given you a lap dance because that was my job. I might have talked to you after the show because it's in my nature to try to be kind, but I bought you a drink because I was interested in you and wanted to get to know you. I went dancing with you because I liked you and didn't want the night to end. I invited you back to my place because," he takes a breath and for the first time since starting his speech he looks a little lost, "well, I don't exactly know why except that letting you just walk out of my life without taking this chance would have been the biggest mistake I could have made."
He stares at her as if expecting a reply but she's completely speechless. She's never been good with words.
"Now, if you are just looking for a good story to tell your friends back home, well I've severely misjudged you. I feel like there's something more here, though."
She answers with her lips instead of words, kissing him hard and fast until his mouth parts for her and he takes control, replacing her fire with his steadiness. She can feel his touch all over, beyond where his skin touches hers and she longs for more, deep within her belly. He must feel that hunger too because quickly he's soothing her with gentle touches and whispered hushes.
"We're almost there, just a few minutes. Then you can kiss me anytime you want." Part of her want's to smack that smirk off his face, but most of her just wants him to drive already. The seconds seem to take twice as long as they should but eventually he rolls through the last stop sign and pulls into a newer apartment complex that she barely catches the name of before he's shutting the car off and pulling her into yet another kiss.
"Let's go," he whispers against her lips, squeezing her hand before reluctantly pulling away and opening his door. She hardly has her body outside of the car when he's by her again, pulling her against him and towards a staircase. His apartment is one flight of stairs up, the last one down the hall. She's not really taking any concrete notes beyond chasing him in attempts to keep hold of his outstretched hand and trying not to laugh too loud as his footsteps sound like thunder compared to hers against the concrete decking.
By the time they're actually at the door, he's struggling between keeping her pinned between his lips and trying to insert the keys into the lock. Both are sloppily done, but effective enough as the door finally releases behind her and their lips release with a pop. The giggle she hears is so foreign that she doesn't even recognize that the sound is coming from her own mouth until she sees the grin it elicits from him. That smile alone is enough to sooth her embarrassment.
He's on her again the moment the door closes, the click of the lock falling into place almost automatically. She doesn't fight him at all, because by now it's as if she belongs there, in his arms, against his lips, chest to chest and hip to hip, as close as humanly possible.
At least until they can shed these useless clothes and get even closer.
As if he can read her mind, his fingers move lower, bunching the fabric of her long tunic until he can reach the skin hiding underneath of it. There's a hiss of pleasure as his fingers splay against her hip, his little finger dipping just below the waist of her jeans in attempts to get a taste of what may lay beneath. She grips his biceps harder, holding on to him for dear life as if it was all just a dream and she could wake up at any time. There's no way any of this can be real otherwise.
He's relentless in the best way, seemingly everywhere at once. When she pulls away from the kiss, breathless, he's still there, at her neck, lavishing perfect little kisses up and down every inch. He's there at her cheek, even when she's smiling so wide that there shouldn't be a place for him to kiss. Finally, he's there at her ear, sucking on the lobe until she's weak in the knees and whispering words that are almost her undoing.
"I need you, Katniss. Now do we bother making it the last few steps down the hall to my bedroom or do I just take you here?"
At first, she just nods, resting her head against his shoulder as his hands wander up and down her body, making sure not to miss a single inch of her until she realizes that isn't a sufficient answer. She can only manage one one thought in her haze, though. "Bed."
She felt his weak chuckle more than she hears it, but before she can scold him for laughing at her he has her face between his hands, tilting her head up he giving her a peck on her slightly squished mouth before picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder, and practically running the ten steps down the hall.
He drops her unceremoniously on a cloud of white sheets and pillows. The jolt's enough to wake her a little, shocking her back into the moment and out of the arousal induced haze she was in moments ago. She's not completely out of the woods, though, because the image in front of her is almost too familiar. Peeta is staring, his eyes hooded and focused on her, and his fingers dancing with the top button of his shirt.
The only thing missing is the thump of the base, blinding strobe lights, and dozens of other screaming voices.
She props herself on her elbows, settling in for her private show as the first few buttons pop open to reveal his bare chest. It doesn't seem to have the same harsh shine that it did before, but there aren't spotlights on him either. Besides the light from the hallway and the streetlight outside the window through the blinds, there isn't much light at all in his room.
When he steps closer this time, it isn't with the same hesitance that he had before either. This time he's sure, and so is she. He doesn't have to guide her hand to his chest because she places it there herself. Just like she did before, she spreads her fingers wide to touch as much of him as possible before she lets her other hand join in her exploration. His hands are exploring as well, untying the knot she had done her hair in and letting his fingers comb through the strands until they form a long cape down her back.
"I wanted to do this all night," he laughs.
"You could have asked," she replies distractedly, "I actually hated the bun. I usually wear a braid."
It's useless information, filling the void and postponing her from their ultimate goal so she moves on, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and letting him shrug it off fully. He looks at her expectantly, as if waiting for something, but she doesn't know what so she leans back again and gathers her hair over one shoulder out of habit.
It doesn't seem to put him off, though. If anything, this seems to encourage him. Almost on cue, his hips start to gyrate side to side and his hand moves slowly over the fly of his jeans. She can feel the corner of her lip tug between her teeth but she can't look away. She doesn't need to, though, she reminds herself because this is all for her. He's doing this all for her.
Tortuously slow, he pulls down the zipper. She can see the bulge behind everything but it still seems so far away, especially with how he's teasing her. There's even the desire to whine and beg like a petulant child but she refuses. Her will is just as strong as his and she knows that he's just as invested as she is.
When he beckons her forward for a kiss, she boldly traces the waistband of his jeans until she reaches the top of the fly and pulls it away. Not down, but just away, revealing the cotton cloth underneath. It's a dark green like the pine trees behind her parents' old place, and she smiles, letting the jeans fall back into place before meeting his lips. The way his tongue swipes the roof of her mouth makes her whole body rise in response, drawing a little whimper as well. It tickles, but not enough to pull away. She wants to pull him closer instead, to pull him into her and demand more.
When she starts pawing at his jeans, he smiles against her lips and helps her gets them off. She's distracted between his arms, his chest, his abs, even his thighs. She can't even begin to contemplate the prominent bulge that is pressing against her as they move because it becomes too much every time she even begins to think about it.
"I've," she stumbles, gasping for breath as his hand brushes her chest, giving a gentle squeeze, "I've never done this before."
"Me neither."
Her spirit brightens at his admittance, knowing that this was a first that they could share together. "Really?"
"Yeah." His face is so close that she can't see his smile, but she can hear it. "I've already told you that I've never brought a girl home with me from a show, but this is a first too. I've never had a one night stand. I'm typically all about commitment. I just saw you and, well, like I said, I knew I needed to take this chance. I couldn't let you go."
She just stares at him, mouth open and eyes wide as he pours himself open to her, and she tries to keep herself from falling. That feeling in the pit of her stomach feel like lead rather than fire in that second but her shock must have appeared to be something else to him.
"I'm sorry, that must sound so corny, but I don't think you understand the effect you have. Especially on me." He kisses her sweetly on the forehead, resting his chin on top of her hair for a breath. It was a pause in their frantic pace, but it was what she needs to hear him whisper. "Do you forgive me?"
She knows he is asking about the lines: cheesy and sweet and perfect, just like him. He has no reason to apologize for his past, just like she doesn't need to apologize for her past or lack thereof to be more precise. Still, it helps for her to imagine that his words are for her misunderstanding as she nods.
"Good, because we have some business to attend to, and you are overdressed." His hands are slowly lifting her shirt, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. Instead, she raises her hands above her head, giving him all the permission he needs to toss the offending article aside.
If her bra had been anything worth looking at, perhaps she might have teased him a bit with the lingerie but the almost utilitarian nude workhorse of her closet was nothing pretty and so before he can even focus on her chest, her arms are behind her back and loosing the hooks herself. Her breasts may not be much more than to look at than the bra itself, but at least they were real and her.
His groan, equal parts pleasure and pain, seem to disagree as he touches her like she was some ethereal goddess to be worshiped and adored. His body pushes her back onto the bed, laying his full weight against her as his hand explores each breast in turn. What she at first felt was inadequate, she quickly feels is perfect in every way under his care. Her dusky pink nipples respond under every brush and pinch of his fingertips, the flesh of each mound fit perfectly in his hands as if they were sized to fit his palms exactly, and the moment his mouth finds her she arches up to meet him and threads her fingers through his hair to keep in in place.
"God, you taste so good." His voice is broken by his focus ministrations and her distracted squirming. "I need more."
There was a little whine as he pulled away, from both of them it seems, but it was quickly swallowed as he starts to pull at the snap of her jeans. She shimmies, allowing him to work the tight pants off the slim curve of her hips before they are fully unzipped in their haste and ignoring the sound of threads snapping as they free her of both of her remaining pieces of clothing at once.
He tosses the jeans by one leg over his shoulder and manages to knock something from the chest of drawers. It doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest and she can't be bothered either because his mouth is slowly moving down her leg, ankle first, causing her heart to beat faster as her chest heaves in anticipation. She knows what's coming, she can practically see the promise in his eyes, but she can't voice the demand for him to just get it over with already. She can't imagine him there, no matter how much she practically needs it now, as his lips graze her knee and the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
His lips come so close to where she wants him, where she needs him, and she can feel the heat of his breath over the skin of her sex. It sends her body into shivers, her eyes rolling back, and her head following suit as she pants in heavy breaths of want and waiting. His nose brushes against her folds, and just that simple touch makes her gasp. She can hear him inhale, taking in her scent like it brings him comfort, the same way she would do in the woods every fall when hunting with her father. When she looks up, meeting his eyes in confusion, he stares her down in almost a predatory way; not how a fox sees a rabbit, but they way a buck sees a doe. A fighter and his prize.
His tongue slips through her next, sending her doubts and confusion into oblivion. Her body falls week at the mercy of his mouth, and she lets him explore her fully. With only her sighs of pleasure for cues, he lets his tongue work her as easily as he had kissed her mouth, and when he moves up, finding the precious bundle of nerves that has her back bowing of the bed and her head tossing side to side, his fingers join in, slipping inside her and curling up to beckon her pleasure forth.
She comes with one hand in his hair and the other gripping the bed for dear life, afraid that she will fly away if she doesn't. She had made herself come many times through the years but it had never felt like this and she almost questions if any of those nights had ever been orgasms at all if they are to be compared to this.
When she opens her eyes, still trying to catch her breath as he gently strokes her down from her high, he's staring at her.
"That was amazing."
She tries to scowl, but literally can't. She feels too good at the moment. She smirks instead. "What are you talking about, you haven't even gotten anything out of this deal yet?"
He nuzzles the downy hairs between her legs, now soaked with her arousal, before crossing his arms across her lower stomach and resting his head. "I have to disagree. You are quite a sight to behold and that was quite a treat." As if to prove his point, he raises one of his hands up and sucks two fingers into his mouth. She can only image that they were the two that were in her moment ago. "Mmm. A treat indeed, in more ways than one."
She shakes her head, looking at him like he's crazy but when she kisses him she can taste herself on his lips. It's odd to realize it's her, but she can't deny that the reminder of him going down on her is a turn on and it pushes her to relish ever nuance. Her enthusiasm drives them further and further towards the inevitable ledge of where this night has been heading since she walked into that auditorium hours ago. He has to break their kiss to find the condom in his nightstand, searching towards the back of the small drawer and fiddling with the box to open it. He even gives her an apologetic smile as he tries to grab one foil packet and ends up pulling two that were still connected. It's nice to see that even if he has done this before, it seems like he's a bit rusty. Her silent chuckling is halted through as he kicks off his briefs to put on the protection.
He's big.
Not huge, mind you. Not like, oversize, pornography-worthy, name a dildo after it huge. But he's still big enough that her nerves are suddenly back in full force. She shouldn't be too surprised that he's larger. He wasn't hired just for his dancing. His body, his whole body, had something to do with it. But seeing it now in all its glory was overwhelming.
As if he can see her sudden hesitation, which maybe he can, he's there, reassuring her. "You ready? We don't have to do this."
"I want to." She does.
"Me too."
He kisses her eyes, first one and then the other, then her nose and finally her mouth. As he lays her back again, gently rubbing her hip to relax her and let her legs fall open, he slips between her thighs. His fingers stroke her folds, testing her rather than teasing this time, making sure she's ready for him before he positions himself and presses himself in. He's gentle, but the movement is sure with no hesitation. She doesn't have time to feel any pain before he's sheathed inside her and setting a slow, steady rhythm.
Her mewls are echoed by his groans, neither speaking for the first few moments as they revel in the pleasure of another's body.
She catches her voice first, muttering a curse under her breath. He nods agreed with her sentiment.
"You feels so good, Katniss. God, so good. I wish I could freeze this moment, and ugh, just stay here forever."
She moans in reply, sucking on his earlobe and hoping it drives him as crazy as it drove her earlier.
It seems to work but apparently actions aren't sufficient at the moment because he gives two hard thrusts and stops suddenly, making her body pull up short from their established rhythm. Peeta's eyes lock on hers, staring almost into her soul as he asks, "So you'll allow it?"
She's nearly breathless when she answers. "I'll allow it."
Their pace becomes harder, faster, more desperate. It races them toward completion and something more, and while she wants this feeling to last forever, she also seeks that blessed release that she knows will be amazing because it comes from him. When his hand snakes between them, finding her clit and circling in the same tight circles his tongue had used earlier, she knows he's close and she's almost as desperate to feel him reach that precipice as she is to feel the high herself.
She falls first, though. He makes sure of it. But he follows a moment later. He holds her body tight to him as she pulses around him and he doesn't let go until she finally relaxes, melting into his embrace. They stay like that for several minutes, just holding one another and she even begins to wonder if he fell asleep until kissed her temple.
"Here, let me go get you a towel. Maybe some water?"
"Um," she mumbles, stretching her legs out as he moves off the bed, "I should probably use the restroom actually. Get cleaned up and everything."
"Oh, okay." There's a bit of concern on his face, some unspoken question.
"Don't worry," she reassures, "I'll be quick."
This seems to satisfy him and he points her towards the bathroom down the hall, tying off the condom and tossing into a nearby trash can.
When she finds her solitude in the bathroom, cleaning herself with some tissues and washing her face with a splash of water, the magnitude of what she has just done overcomes her. She doesn't want to cry or scream, but she needs to do something, so she just laughs at her reflection. The woman looking back at her is a mess, honestly. Her face is flushed with sweat, makeup smudged and hair completely askew. Her fingers brush through it a few times as she wishes desperately for a brush, but this will have to do. He's already fucked her thoroughly, who is she trying to impress?
The thought makes her smile again, and for a half a second she sees it. She's not pretty. She's certainly not beautiful at this moment. But right now, because of him, she's as radiant as the sun. He's set her on fire.
When she comes back to the room, he's still puttering around, looking almost lost. "Would you like to borrow some clothes or..." She follows his outstretched hand to see her pants and top folded neatly on the dresser against the wall. Her bra is set on top of the pile. Sleeping in the clothing she had been partying in would be incredibly uncomfortable until she realizes that he's asking if she wants to go home.
She can't imagine leaving, though, not right now. And while the thought of wrapping herself in his shirt, his scent, is incredibly appealing, she doesn't want to bother with that right now either. So she just helps herself to his bed, crawling on her hands and knees from the foot until she claims the far side. She has the slight worry of being too presumptuous until she hears his heavy tread walking towards the window, unlatching it in a swift motion before she feels a light tap on her ass.
"Scootch. This is my side."
His tone is playful and when she peeks out from the covers, she scowls and rolls her eyes. "No guest privileges?"
"I didn't say you had to scoot far."
She stubbornly offers him maybe a foot of space before he tucks himself behind her, pulling her even closer as soon as he's comfortably on the mattress. His hands continue to gently explore her, not provoking or teasing her into another round of seduction, but as if he simply can't get enough of her. It's a sentiment she understands as she tries to memorize everything from the pattern of his breaths to the way he smells. She tries to count the times he kisses her hair but begins to lose the number as her eyes drift close and she falls into the most peaceful sleep she can ever remember.
He was gone when she wakes up. At first, she's ashamed, until she realizes that she at his place. It's not like she can be stood up when she was the one who slept over. She slips on her pants and bra but hesitates before slipping on the top from last night. While it was comfortable enough, certainly more so than many of the option she had seen other women sporting, she isn't eager to put it on again. Call it early morning insanity brought on by a lack of coffee but she pulls the first drawer of his dresser open, happy to find a pile of neatly folded shirts. She picks the first one she sees, a heathered orange one that is easily a size or two too big, yet incredibly soft. It smelled faintly like him, even over the fresh laundry soap, and she holds the edge of the collar up to take a deeper breath before tucking her black tunic into her bag from last night.
Peeta isn't in the living room or kitchen either, but there's a note.
Went for a quick run and to grab some treats from the bakery down the street for us. They have some cheese buns that are to die for. I have the day off and would love to spend it with you until your flight this afternoon. I should be back around 9ish. Sleep in and make yourself at home. I have Netflix and wifi is Mellark. Password PmD12. See you soon
PM 3
She traces the edges of the note, reading it once more with a smile before the reality of it all hit her. She'll be leaving today. Going home. She'll never see him again. If she was already feeling so attached to him that she was smiling at little notes and feeling worried about waking up to an empty bed, then what would happen after she spent the morning with him. Getting to know him more and becoming more attached only to be torn away when she inevitably had to leave would just make it harder.
No, it was better just to rip off the band-aid now.
She looks at the clock on the microwave, happy to see it glowing a bright blue 7:50. He probably left just before she woke up and wouldn't be back for quite a while. She quickly searches her phone for a cab, calling the first one that pops up in the google search and using a piece of nearby mail to give them his address. When they tell her that they'll be there to pick her up in twenty minutes or so, she sighs and waits in the quiet of his apartment, taking in the last moments of him and what could have been if they had met in so many different circumstances. Her stomach rumbling makes her wish for one of those promised cheese buns, but she figures a quick bowl of cereal will have to do. It isn't until she picks up his milk that she realizes how little he has left, but she's already walking out on him without saying goodbye...is taking the last of his milk really all that worse? Thankfully she doesn't have time to think too long before she's walking down to the parking lot, locking his door behind her.
She tries not to think about what he probably found when he got back. She tries not to notice the clock hit 9am on beside her cold hotel bed. She ignores the pastries at the buffet line and is grateful that they hadn't exchanged numbers so she isn't tempted to call him or check her messages. She checks out early, letting the front desk hold her bag while she, Jo, and Annie get lunch. They only try to bring up Peeta once before Annie wisely realizes that the topic isn't one she wants to talk about.
When they leave the restaurant, rain is already pouring hard enough to leave small rivers in the gutters and make them run from hotel to hotel. She knows her friends have another show to get ready for so they part, promising to keep in touch. She'll see them next year at this same convention, but she hopes that they can meet up before that because while they are work peers, she thinks she might actually have made some friends as well. She certainly got more than she bargained out of this work trip, that's for sure.
She's a bit early for her flight check in, but as road closure and detours force her cab to take back streets to avoid flooded areas and interspersed lightning flashes highlight the palms blowing in the wind, her gut is telling her that she needs to be at the airport. Her phone is telling her that her flight is fine, but her intuition is telling her something completely different. The melodic ping that sounds in her hand when the cabbie pulls into the "departures" drop-off zone confirms it.
There's already a line forming in the American Airline check-in and customer service area, and from the tones of people ahead, she knows what is going to be said. It doesn't come as a surprise when they tell her her flights been canceled. There's nothing they can do. She's welcomed to see if there's an open seat on a later flight; "standby" they call it. No, they can't get her a hotel credit for the night.
Her foot taps as she tries desperately to keep her temper in check. She knows that the man she's talking to has probably had to answer these same questions fifty times before and will probably have to answer them a five hundred more times before the night is up and yelling at him now will probably do no good but man would it make her feel just a little better right about now.
But she takes the high ground, and after rescheduling a flight for the next evening – well after the storm should be past – she leaves him with a scowl and a "thank you" forced through her gritted teeth. The poor soul at least has the good sense to give a sincere smile rather than that plastic one that most corporate entities force on their minimum wage workers as he apologizes.
The storm is still brewing overhead, blowing strands of her hair out of her signature braid that she tries to tuck behind her hair. Inside seems to be filled with too many people frustrated with missed flights and what not. She's more concerned with what she should do next. She could get a cheap hotel off the strip. Or call up Jo and Annie. Certainly, they would let her crash.
Her mind just keeps wondering to one place, though. She can't deny she wants to see him again. There's no way he wants to see her, not after this morning, but she can't get her mind off it. She's fixated.
The next ten minutes happen so fast that she isn't quite sure what drives them. She's giving the name of a place she's been only once and can hardly remember but thankfully the driver seems to know exactly where she asking to go. As they make their way there, she begs him to pull over and tell him to keep the cab running as she hops outside for a few moments, returning with one bag more than she left with and an even bigger grin. The cabbie just looks at her like she's crazed. Finally, she sees it and the butterflies flutter in her stomach. It's the right place, and even in the light of day it looks familiar but she isn't sure of herself. What if he slams the door in her face. He may simply refuse to open it. Hell, he may not even be there.
She reminds herself that if the worse comes to worse, she can always call Annie and Jo. With that reassurance and a deep breath, she walks up the stairs, down the hall, and to his door. She's slightly damp from the rain, shivering because she never anticipated this weather nor this amount of pure anxiety, but she knocks and waits.
The door unlatches before it opens, causing her breath to hitch.
"Katniss?"
"Hey." He doesn't look pissed. He doesn't look miserable. He doesn't look thrilled to see her either. He just looks confused.
"Where'd you go? I...I thought you left. Isn't your flight supposed to be soon?" Suddenly he's slipping on his jacket like he's going to take her to the airport himself because...that's just the type of guy he is, she realizes. He's the guy that buys you your first drink even if he doesn't know at all and goes out of his way to make sure you're comfortable, puts your pleasure first, buys your cheese buns after a one night stand, and would drop everything to take you to the airport.
She puts her hand on his chest to stop him. "My flights have been canceled to do weather. And...I'm sorry I left. I was afraid. I didn't want to say goodbye so I thought that would be easier."
He nods in understanding, looking at the ground instead of her. "Was it?"
"No." Her voice breaks, because only then does the pain of just how hard it has been to not say goodbye really hit her. Goodbye would have been hard, but it would have meant closure. It would have meant a possibility of hello again. She could have left him with a kiss, a hug, or just a thank you for his care and kindness. Instead, she left him with nothing but stolen moments and "what if's"
His arms close around her, comforting her even though she's the one who left him. She's in the wrong but once again, that's just who he is.
"You weren't here. You just...I thought I did something wrong. I'm so glad you came back."
Her heart breaks a bit for him, especially since while she couldn't see his misery when he opened the door, she can hear it now. And she can hear the hope he has now. One arm comes up to hold him too, but the other struggles because of the weight in it. She pulls away after a second, grinning at him. "I got you something."
The confusion is back on his face so she continues, holding up a white jug.
"Milk!"
"What?"
"I used the last of yours this morning, so I bought you some more milk. I hope 2% is okay."
He laughs, taking the jug from her and examining it as if it held the key to some mythical question before setting it inside the door and pulling her close again. When she feels a kiss tucked into her hair, she relaxes against his chest.
"I was hoping that I could ask a favor too..."
"Stay."
The way he says it isn't quite a question, nor a command, nor a plea to her. It simply is. And so is her answer.
"Always."
Author's Note
Thank you all for joining me on my very first Everlark story! This was submitted for the charity project MoreS2SL last fall and we raised over $3500 for children's cancer research. Keep an eye out for other great MS2SL stories on tumblr under that tag.
One of the fun little tidbits about this story is that it was inspired by a trip I took about a year ago to Las Vegas. I went for work, met some friends, had quite the adventure, and even had my flight canceled. Certain parts of this story (including direct quotes) are 100% real. Others are pure fantasy. If you want to hazard a guess as to what you believe actually happened, let me know below and I'll reply back!
A big thank you to DoubtTheStarsAreFire for the lovely cover art! Also a hand to Raissa for betaing for me.
I hope to write more Everlark in the future. While Romitri will always be my first love, I do have a thing for Katniss and Peeta.