Katniss and Gale are hired to protect the Prince of Denmark as he tours America promoting his bestseller. Can he convince her that he is a man worth getting to know?

I do not own The Hunger Games. This is a work of fiction. Any vocal likeness to persons either living or dead - like Tom Hiddleston, for instance - is purely unintentional.

Prince Among Men

"I can't believe you talked me into this." Katniss Everdeen shifted uncomfortably; she would much rather be wearing her police blues than the jeans and polo shirt she was sporting.

"Come on, Catnip. We both had a ton of vacation time and this was easy money. After all, how hard can it be to babysit a Prince?" Her best friend and partner, Gale Hawthorne, stared her down. He looked completely comfortable in the lobby of the five star hotel where they were to meet their charge for the first time.

"He wrote a book, Gale. Maybe you don't read, but the rest of us do."

"So?" He looped a hand in his belt loop, completely bored.

"So, he's not just a Prince. He's the author of Treat her like a Princess: The Secret to Making Any Women Feel Loved. Have you read it? He sounds like a patronizing dick-head."

Gale shrugged, "Reading it wasn't one of the requirements for this gig. Besides, I don't care one little bit about his personality, Catnip. With the money his mother's paying us to keep him safe, his head could be shaped like an actual dick for all I care."

Gale did have a point. With the ten thousand they were each getting for four weeks, Katniss could send a nice chunk of change to her sister - she knew Prim would appreciate the extra cash for nursing school. And she could finally get those new Dr. Martens she'd been eyeing. Still, it was the principal of the thing: she might not consider herself a hardcore feminist, but Katniss Everdeen knew a thing or two about men taking women for granted. Her chosen profession alone assured that.

"I just know he's going to be a sleazy dirtbag who thinks all women swoon at his feet."

"Swoon, Everdeen? Been reading romance novels again?" Gale laughed.

Katniss fisted her hands at her sides. "Laugh it up, Hawthorne, but you mark my words that this guy is going to turn out to be an egotistical ass who thinks all women were made to serve him. Hell, I bet that he's not even that good looking. I bet the only reason that women like him at all is because of his pretentious title. He probably has feet like a troll and crossed eyes and a goiter and his breath smells." Katniss began to pace the floor.

Gale crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at her. "You forgot to mention that he's late."

"He is. He is! What sort of Prince is late? Isn't punctuality drilled into them from an early age? I'm telling you right now, Gale, volunteering for this was a huge mistake."

A throat cleared behind her, catching her attention. She spun around to find herself staring into impossibly blue eyes in a handsome, tanned face topped by gold, rakishly askew curls. A cultured, slightly accented voice asked, "Pardon me. Are you Katniss Everdeen?"

She nodded, completely bewitched by his eyes. "Ye-es. Yes. Yes, I am.'

The curls bobbed as the stranger nodded. "Excellent. Because I'm Peeta Mellark, the Prince of Denmark, the dick-head of whom you speak. And you must be Gale Hawthorne."

She felt her face heat. This handsome stranger was the Prince she was going to protect for a week? Why weren't the odds ever in her favor?

"My staff will help you gather your things and we can drop them in your suites: we have some time before our engagement this evening. You can take some time to get settled. We only have one night here, I'm afraid. Our schedule is quite full this week."

Gale and Katniss were hustled inside an elevator and whisked to the twelfth floor. Peeta introduced each of his staff, gesturing to each as he said their names. "This is Haymitch, my man-about-town." a dark haired, gray-eyed man who looked startlingly like an older version of Gale appeared bored as he picked at his cuticles. "This is Cinna, my valet and Effie, my assistant." The final two were very fashionable and nodded at the pair. Effie carried a clipboard.

"If you require anything, they will attend you. Everyone, may I introduce to you Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne. They have graciously agreed to be my protection for the next several weeks. Please treat them as honored guests and follow their guidance as if their words were my own."

-o—

"Are those shoes comfortable?" Cinna, the Prince's dark haired, and dark eyed valet asked as they waited for the car to be brought around to the front of the hotel.

"I'm sorry?" Katniss had been covertly watching the Prince in his dark suit, robin's egg shirt and dark blue silk waistcoat. His attire brought out the gold in his hair and his blue eyes, which was probably on purpose. A vest? She thought. Who wears vests? And yet, she had to admit that it had her suddenly aware of his bone structure, the breadth of his chest and how it tapered to his hips. He wasn't a tall man by any stretch, but he carried himself well.

Well, he is a Prince. They probably teach that in "How to be a Prince" classes.

"Your shoes. Are the quite comfortable?" Cinna motioned to her crepe soled flats, the only pair of dress shoes she owned.

She frowned. "Yes, why?"

Cinna's lips pursed into a thin line, as if he was entirely unsure of what to make of her footwear. "Well, I was thinking that perhaps we might have time to find you another pair of shoes in the next day or so. They seem very…utilitarian."

Katniss stared at the shoes which matched her black suit and white blouse. Sure, they might be a little plain, and perhaps the jacket was a little big for her. All she cared about, though, was that it had pockets and it was large enough to allow her to wear her holster without calling attention to it. "Are you saying my shoes are ugly?"

Gale chose that moment to come to her rescue. "Well, Katniss isn't exactly the glass slipper wearing type."

Cinna ignored Gale's comment. "I didn't mean to offend you, Miss. It's my experience that practicality and style can go hand in hand and I thought we might find something more suitable. Perhaps another time?" With a nod in their direction, he moved to join the Prince and Effie.

Gale turned to Katniss and laughed at her expression. "Yeah, like you care about fashion! Next thing you know, he'll ask you why you're not wearing a dress." He laughed again, then said more quietly, "I got the bookstore layout from Effie. We should go over it once we get there to make sure we know the exits and have a plan for anything that might go wrong."

Katniss nodded. She was pretty confident that she and Gale could handle whatever came their way. It wasn't like this was their first assignment together.

Gale leaned back and looked at the group arguing over by one of the hotel's marble columns. "Will you look at him? Who wears a vest with a suit?"

Katniss frowned as she continued to study the Prince. "Someone who doesn't wear a gun, Gale. That's who."

-o—

"My God, I'm starving." Katniss flopped down on the couch in her own room, not bothering to have a celebratory glass of wine with Effie, Cinna Haymitch and the Prince in the suite just beyond her door. Frankly, she had not been prepared for the hordes of women who had flocked to the book signing, pushing and jockeying their way in line just to have something signed by the Prince. A few of them had sneered at her when she gave them directions. One had practically shouted that she didn't believe the Prince could have such an ugly girlfriend. As a result, Katniss was hungry, exhausted, and cranky.

"You're always starving. Didn't you eat anything at the signing?" Gale had slipped off his jacket and had his dress-sock-clad feet resting on an ottoman while he played with the remote.

Katniss gave him a dirty look at the same time as her stomach gave a loud rumble. "When? Some of us had to protect our charge from those women all night. Is that why you kept disappearing?"

"Oh, come on, Catnip. The worst they were going to do was rub up against him or grab his ass. He was never in any danger. Besides, a few of them needed consoling after polite but distant reception from the Playboy Prince. Someone had to help them."

Katniss stopped rubbing her temples and wrinkled her nose in his direction "Yeah, Gale, you're a real humanitarian. Wait. You kept disappearing with some of his fans? While I was doing our job?" She shook her head and stood. "I'm going to throw on some jeans and go grab something to eat. Do not, and I repeat, do not think that we are going to let tonight happen again, Gale. I am not doing the work while you have a buffet line of women throw themselves at you. That's just…it's disgusting. Now get out so I can change my clothes."

Gale laughed and strode to the door. He stopped and looked back at her as she took off her suit jacket and hung it neatly in her closet. "Sure you don't want to have a drink and bond with the extended team? I'm pretty sure the driver – Haymitch, I think his name is – isn't going to stop at one bottle of wine, and it's probably the good stuff." At her dirty look, he threw up a hand. "Hey, we can't all be a prince among men!"

-o-

Katniss sighed happily as she prepared to tuck into her Brutal Dog and sweet potato fries, all thoughts of the earlier book signing firmly put pushed out of her mind. She was going to savor each bite of the spicy, quarter pound, beef hotdog slathered with extra-spicy chili, and never mind the heartburn.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Katniss paused in the act of raising the juicy frank to her lips and looked over to where the bane of her existence stood. She sighed and put the hot dog back on her plate.

"Oh, please don't stop eating on my account." He at least had the grace to look sheepish. "I came over simply to ask what exactly it is that you ordered."

She narrowed her eyes at him: what was it with these people – first her outfit, now her dinner? "Look, I'm off the clock. The contract said that we were specifically hired as protection for the book signings and in-between travel."

A dimple quirked at the corner of his mouth, making her want to hurl her hot dog at his head. "Actually, the contract stipulated 'protection for public appearances'. Is this not a public appearance?" He waved a hand expansively at the orange Naugahyde booths that lined the walls. They were full of Sacred Heart University students, Bridgeport police officers, and several older men who were sitting together, dressed identically in slacks and sweaters sporting lots of gold jewelry. Katniss had found it amusing earlier that the only noticeable difference between those men was the careful styling of their salt and pepper hair.

"It's a Brutal Dog and sweet potato fries." She blurted out unhappily. When he turned to walk toward the order window, she said a little louder, "And get extra sauce for the sweet potato fries."

When he stood at the edge of the table several minutes later holding his tray, his eyebrow raised in a silent question, she jerked her head at the seat across from her. "Go ahead and sit."

"Excellent. Thank you." He shot her a smile and slid into the booth. "You have something there…" he motioned to the corner of her mouth. He unwrapped his Brutal Dog, oblivious to her frown, as she swiped at the remnants of chili sauce with a napkin.

"It's really spicy. If you're not used to spicy food, I mean." She watched the obvious enjoyment on his face as he took his first bite and chewed with relish. Not a single drip ended up anywhere on him and she thought sourly that even his hotdog obeyed his every command.

A surprisingly earthy, throaty noise sent a shiver down her spine as he ate and he smiled another disarming smile, complete with dimples. "This is bliss. I confess that I have a hidden penchant for this sort of fare." He motioned to his plate with a sweet potato fry before biting into it.

She looked at him like he had sprouted two heads. "You mean junk food?" When she saw him eating the fries she had to remind him, "You need to dip those in the sauce, trust me."

He followed her advice, dipping and nibbling at a fry experimentally. Katniss tried not to watch his mouth, or listen to the sound he made in appreciation.

"Lovely. What is it made of?"

"The sauce? Crack cocaine I think." She laughed at his alarm. "It's some family recipe that they won't share with anyone. But it's the best." She illustrated her point by eating two french fries herself.

-o-

They each leaned back in their seats, replete with the greasy, spicy meal and surprisingly easy companionship.

"That was remarkable. We have hot dog trucks at home. We regrettably don't get the privilege of dining at them often, though."

"So this is contraband for you?" Katniss was so full that she tried to think of a discrete way to unbutton her jeans. When she had finally decided against it, she folded her hands and studied him as he gently folded his napkin and placed it over his was trying to piece together why it was that a Prince who could have any meal would seek out one so...normal. His life was different from hers in unfathomable ways, she supposed.

She wondered if this was a big meal for him. What was his life normally like? Parties full of blonde women, appetizers and wine? A chef preparing dinners of organic greens and grass-fed beef? Either way, he had to be as queasy as she was, even if he didn't show it.

"Yes. I used to eat like this all the time at university, but my schedule - and my waistline - do not really allow it any longer." He patted his stomach for emphasis.

Katniss snorted before she could stop herself. "You look fine to me." When she realized what she had said, she quickly grabbed their trays and disposed of their trash. She turned to find him waiting with her purse over his shoulder, holding their drinks, completely nonplussed by either her compliment or her embarrassment.

"Ready?" she said gruffly.

The walk back to their hotel was accomplished in awkward silence. When they entered the elevator, the Prince cleared his throat. "Katniss, thank you for the company this evening. I don't normally get to indulge in my favorite pastime in the company of a beautiful woman." He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly mortified when he realized how his words could be interpreted.

Katniss scrambled to get back on professional footing. Finally, she decided to just level with him and clear the air: he didn't need to butter her up because she was already getting paid to do her job. A job she needed.

She squared her shoulders and poked the elevator's stop button. "Look, your Highness, I think we need some rules here—"

"—It's Royal Highness, actually."

"What?"

"My title. If you're going to use it, then you should address me as your Royal Highness, or Count of Monpezat, or Prince Pee-"

"—You interrupt a lot, do you know that?" She glared at him. "As I was saying, your Royal Highness, I think we should establish some boundaries."

"I was going to say that I wish you would just call me Peeta. If you had allowed me to complete my thought, that is."

Katniss wanted to stamp her foot; really, the man was infuriating with his smile and dimple and white teeth. "No. Absolutely not. And I am not beautiful, so stop whatever it is you think you're doing when you say that."

He gaped at her. "You're joking. You're gorgeous." When he searched her incredulous face and saw that she was serious, he whistled quietly. "You really have no idea, do you, the effect you have?"

His blue eyes had her mesmerized and his voice - it bespoke of satin sheets and champagne and breathless gasps of ecstasy in the dark - made her tremble. She needed to admit to herself that she was attracted to the man she had been charged with protecting.

She blinked. What had she been saying? Something about tonight being a fluke. An aberration. About how they couldn't possibly do something like it again, so that she could keep her sanity and her job.

Her hand shook as she raised it to him, pointing a finger at his chest. "I get it! You're the Playboy Prince and you have to do this sort of thing. And the Count of Monpezat? Did you get that title at Ikea? I don't care if you put a wig on and tell me to call you Shirley, I am not doing it! Stop trying to confuse me with your pretty words and your ridiculous accent. Do you think you're better than I am because you went to some fancy school? That I'm just going to swoon at your feet? This is why we fought the American Revolution! So that there is no such thing as royalty and we're all equal here."

The Prince smiled, dimples flashing. "Got it. So you're free to swoon wherever and with whomever you wish?"

Katniss felt her cheeks redden even as she fisted her hands at her side: she knew he was mocking her and just wanted to punch him.

He continued with twinkling eyes. "Good. It's decided then: in the interest of American equality, you will call me Peeta. And IKEA is Swedish, not Danish."

"No."

"Yes. You can ask anyone. I think they even tell you at the store."

She glared at him. "You're infuriating, do you know that? No."

"Yes." He blocked the elevator panel when she moved to hit the button for their floor. "Please. Just say my name."

Katniss closed her eyes when his voice became a breathy plea. She could actually feel her resolve draining, along with her ability to think straight. She wouldn't let him see how much he affected her, though, so her back remained ramrod straight.

"Fine. Peeta. Peeta, Peeta, Peeta. Are you satisfied? Can we go now?"

He moved out of her way and took his place beside her while she jabbed the button with more force than necessary.

"Katniss?" He asked as the elevator glided upward.

"What?" She bit off crisply, beyond pissed at him.

His voice still had the low, urgent quality that was doing funny things to her insides. "I like the way it sounds when you say it. And no, I'm not satisfied; not yet."

(A/N: Written for the Prompts in Panem Seven Deadly Sins - Gluttony prompt, this may eventually be a multi-chapter fic. It all depends on GNO timing and response to it here. Read and enjoy!)