A/N Hello! This is a fic I have been working on for a while. It is a crack pairing with Clove/Peeta so be warned but give it a chance! Happy readings!
Clove wakes up excited. On a morning where other children tremble with fear and try to recover from lack of sleep, she wakes up rested, warm, and happy. She stretches her legs, arching her back, and enjoys the feeling of his hairy legs rubbing against her smooth ones. The bed that creaks underneath her is thin and uncomfortable. It doesn't help that its small and she shares it with him. Her back cracks as she finishes stretching.
He moans and shifts away from her movements but doesn't wake. His blonde hair catches the sunlight in ways she wishes she didn't notice, looking almost golden. She's surprised at herself when she leans in to wake him with a kiss instead of the usual kick to the shins and "get the fuck out." Well, today is a special occasion. She smiles into his lips.
It hurts her ass when she hits the wooden floor and the breath is knocked out of her for a second of surprise. It shouldn't have surprised her, though. His aggressive shove pushed her off the bed but she managed to bring the thin, scratchy sheet she was tangled in with her. He wakes up as the cool morning air touches his bare skin and he rubs open his bright blue eyes. She tries to glare to show anger at the push but can only smile as Peeta sleepily sits up. Kisses were never their thing, and this morning definitely isn't his. But this is their game. Violence, love, hate, and sex on a constant repeat and she loves every moment of it.
He rolls his eyes at her weak attempt at a glare. He hates every moment of this. She loves that, too. She reaches up onto the bed and cruelly pulls a chunk of his blonde leg hair. He smacks her hand away, as he lets out a yelp. It's almost playful but still hard enough to make her skin turn red where his hand hit. She laughs and no one could call it a giggle. Only weak little girl's giggle and I am not one of them.
Their trainers will be around any minute for wakeup call and they normally rushes him out of her tiny single bedroom to avoid the possible punishment but it doesn't matter today. Today, she is eighteen and will receive the honor of being next female District 2 tribute. No one would deny her this little tryst. Because you might die. A little voice whispers and she looks at him instead of listening.
Peeta Mellark is only sixteen. Two years younger than her and far less trained, though still much bigger than her. He probably won't ever be chosen to go into the arena. He would never win the actual Games since he can't even win the District 2 competition to get him there. Everyone has to "audition" every year, brutally fight in hand to hand combat with the other female or male potential tributes, and this year Clove won and Peeta lost in the first round to a seventeen year old smaller than he was. Though she knows he didn't even try.
Someone like him really shouldn't be in the training center. Someone nice, someone with a family that's still alive and even comes to check on him. But it was either this or becoming a peacekeeper and he had hated the idea of both. At least this way, he might only have the possibility of a terrible life. Joining the ranks of peacekeepers guaranteed it. He would be just as mismatched there, too. All the peacekeepers she's ever met have been just as bad or worse than her trainers.
He was a rare case for the center. Merchants tend to limit themselves for children and he was screwed over by being the youngest son of the baker. There was only one bakery and three different kids who would have three different families. The bakery couldn't support three families. It could barely support three kids. The training center had been the only choice left to him.
Most younger siblings, orphans, and unwanted children end up here. Some parents make extra kids, just for the hopes that one of them may gain riches in the arena. That's probably what Peeta was, though his father always denied it, his mother believed in the glory of the Games. Clove was an extra. She planned on winning the Games and not sharing a dime with her family who had never visited except on the days of competition.
Auditions started when you were twelve. Girls and boys would separate and everyone's names would be pulled for their matches. Clove's first year she had gotten a thirteen year old and smiled at her parents in the bleachers with her bloody nose and missing tooth when she won the match. They never smiled back. The next was a seventeen year old girl who beat her unconscious. When she woke her parents were gone.
It went like that every year until Clove never looked at the audience. They were just people who called themselves her parents and she was just an investment. This year when she won, the tall man who called himself her father and the short, thin woman, "her mother," came to congratulate her. She broke his wrist when he patted her on the back and managed to break three of his ribs and her nose before someone pulled her off them. They still seemed proud. Because they created a monster and monsters win the Games.
Either way, they won't get a dime from me when I win. She was winning for herself. The glory of District 2, and her parents and her trainers didn't mean shit to her. She wanted the money and the house and Peeta and freedom and blood. She shivers with excitement.
He leans down and scoops her easily back into bed. Despite being not typical of District 2, he still had the strength that came from years of training. "You hurt my ass," Clove wiggles in his grip and he laughs and flips her over to blow a strawberry on her no longer pained rear. The feeling tickles and it's almost a giggle that escapes her lips. She flips over and wraps her legs around him, pinning him down. She is very strong and trained, but still much smaller than him. He lets her stay in control; she likes being in control.
Peeta was different than everyone she ever met. He was always far nicer than anyone else in the training center, maybe even in District 2. If she had ever really been allowed out, maybe she would know. He is never cruel, only violent, and everyone here is violent. It's how they live and survive. District 2 is for the strong and brutal and Victors. But he would never hurt her, not really.
She is everything that District 2 should be and he is none of it, even his name doesn't fit. That's why she noticed him in the first place. In a place of weapons and fighting, you notice the little boy picking dandelions and helping you up. Everyone calls him soft but she knows he is not. He is just different.
They get caught up in their play wrestle until it becomes something else. They repeat their activities from the night before, and the night before that, and the night before that. After, she kicks him out to get ready this time with a solid kick to the butt for payback. He laughs his way out the door, while slipping on his pants, and quickly closes it before she can get in another kick.
She walks around her small room to get ready. It's a single room, another thing she managed to earn by winning fights. Peeta still lived in a shared room with three other boys, the same size but with bunked beds. She hated sharing a room and fought every year for a single room until she won one at 15, one of the youngest to do so.
Her blanket piled on the floor was the only color, a dark green splash pooled against the wooden floor. The walls are grey and bare, with chips in the paint and cracks in the wall. Other than her bed the only furniture was a nightstand with a well melted candle and a small three drawer dresser with a dirty mirror hanging above it.
She walked to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer, a drawer for undergarments, socks, and pajamas. Everything was perfectly folded and all the same dull grey, blacks, or white. Some of the greys might have initially been black or white, but faded over time. The underwear might be the only thing that isn't a hand down in the drawer. At least, I hope so. She slips into a pair, anyways. The second drawer contains day clothes. Most of them are flexible training clothes but there is also a set for "dress wear," jeans and fairly nice button down shirt that almost fits her properly, for when a Victor or Capital crony or cameras visit. The last drawer is left for personal belongings. Clove's remains completely empty.
She opens the second drawer before remembering that she won't be wearing the usual clothes today. She turns back toward the door to see a dress hanging there by a hook. It's completely white and clean cut and innocent looking. Not really her style, but they chose what would fit and her smaller stature is rare in the Training Center. The dress has probably been worn by many girls who are now dead. She rubs the cotton between her fingers before excitedly pulling it off the hanger.
She pulls it quickly over her head and pauses when she thinks she hears a tear. She frantically looks around but finds nothing amiss and finishes shifting it to her body. The shoulder sleeves allow her tan and muscled arms to show nicely and the hem above her knees does the same for her legs. The dress is lower cut than she is used to and she rearranges it a few times around her small breast before settling. She looks strong, if not beautiful.
This will be the first time the Capital sees her and she wants to look good. Sponsors are important even to the deadliest tributes. Clove finishes at the mirror, taking all of her long black hair and putting every strand in place into a tight high ponytail, and pinching her cheeks and licking her lips like she saw some other girl's doing. She slips on the matching white flip flops they gave her then leaves her room for the last time. The sound of the door shutting makes her smile.
She stops by the bathroom to brush her teeth and revels in the fact that all the girls quiet as she walks into the room. She runs up the stairs quickly and knocks on his door. The boys behind it laugh boisterously and insult someone's mother before answering. One of Peeta's roommates that she never bothered to learn the name of opens the door and leans his almost naked body against the frame. He wiggles his eyebrows and she immediately crosses her arms and glares. That seems to remind him who he is messing with and he backs up and waves behind Clove. Peeta walks towards her in a towel from the bathroom.
"Give me a minute," he smiles at her and then proceeds to shove his half naked roommate backwards into their room while the kid shouts. Peeta slams the door shut behind him with a kick. Clove laughs and leans against the wall to wait, listening to the boys yell at each other while they dress. The boy's hall is always filled with shouts while the girl's just whisper. Both always seem to end in violence. She thinks that Peeta and his roommates, another set of softer boys who probably won't survive training without help, actually get along though so she doesn't listen very closely.
Boys walk back and forth from their rooms to the bathroom in different levels of undress but no one spares her a glance and she doesn't look at them either. Her hand twitches to a weapon that isn't there whenever someone walks too closely. A few of the younger ones still sport bruises or limps from training. Before they are allowed in the Games, they don't get the same top notch medical treatment that everyone gets once they are of age. The Capital doesn't support training, not directly, but the Center never lacks for food, weapons, or medicine. They love a show and District 2 is often a top player. Someone always finds a way to send them what they need.
Cato walks out of his room, fully dressed in a nice suit, one chosen to fit him as the designated District 2 tribute. It won't save you. He laughs and points at her before using his hand in a mime of a dirty motion. Clove ignores him as he walks away. She smiles as she thinks of how she will bleed him to death soon.
Peeta walks out a couple minutes later tightening a belt around his waist. His light blue button down shirt is too small for him but it brings out the blue in his eyes and stretches nicely across his muscles. His khaki pants sag a little around his waist even with the belt, but they are a decent length and end at his worn down dress shoes. She regrets that she won't get the chance to rip the clothes off of him later. She reaches up and bites his lip sharply. He winces away while his lip opens up a small cut. The metallic taste of blood flickers across her tongue as she kisses him again. She laughs and licks her own lips, wanting more of him.
Instead, of falling into her arms he turns her around and pushes her lightly ahead. The hallways are slowly emptying as everyone heads downstairs. She can vaguely hear the shouts of Victors and trainers commanding everyone to hurry up and get ready. She walks outside without stopping in the small dining hall. She is too excited to eat and Peeta follows a few steps behind her without a word or glance towards the food he will be missing.
He walks behind her, as if they were not walking together. They are always like that, together but separated by something she can never see. They sit at dinner and barely talk, they train in the gym by fighting each other, and don't stop until one is unconscious or the trainers physically separate them. She fights him just like anyone else, without mercy and with a ferocious singular attention that causes the younger trainees to tap out from fear alone. He fights without ever giving up, unless they are younger or weaker. His record is one of the lowest in wins, but the wins are against the top competitors while the losses are all against what Clove always considered punching bags. They share a bed but stay far apart from each other, only touching when the cold gets to be too much and they would die without it. Blankets are a reward for good behavior and Clove never listened for the enjoyment of it and he never listened because he hated everything they said.
The walk to the City Center isn't far. As soon as she walks out, she feels the warmth of the sun slowly chase off the cooler morning air. The mountains around them block out half of the sunlight but it's warm and comforting on this side of the valley and cooler where the miners work all day, though the mines are silent today.
The normal clangor has disappeared and given itself over to a silence that even children don't break. Most fear the silence, but Clove enjoys it. The mines always annoyed her. The miners were always dirty and often smelly. Their children often beg for food and Clove would ignore them completely except to make sure to never touch them.
The recent rains created puddles on the dirt road that led to the main square and she carefully avoids them to keep her shoes and dress clean. When she looks behind her at Peeta, she sees him walk straight through a puddle as he stares at the sun rising over the mountain. She turns back forward and happily skips over another puddle in her way. She even does a twirl that sends her dress up her legs and worried parents glare in her direction. Your children have nothing to fear, idiots.
They reach the sign in and stand in their separate lines. She smiles at the Peacekeepers as she signs in. Clove looks back up to where Peeta was and sees him already heading into the boy's section. She realizes she was expecting a goodbye, or a good luck, or maybe even him begging her not to go. She would have denied him, of course, but she still expected the fight. But he hadn't said anything at all. The moment causes her smile to drop. He still has time during my visitor's hour. The thought calms her and the smile lights back up on her face.
She practically skips to the front area for the eighteen year olds. Everyone moves out of her way and anyone who doesn't willingly gets shoved until she is right under the stage. The girls all form a circle of space around her. Even as the space grows more and more crowded, they still make sure to not touch her. The children outside of the center always fear those that go through training and she had well established herself as someone to fear within the girls of the center. No one touches her.
No one would touch him either. He would probably like to think it was because of his proven fighting skills, but really it's because anyone who touches him must deal with her. She already well-established that and even the trainers, who have been known to beat children to death, go easy on Peeta Mellark. She tries to be subtle and there is only one incident he knows of for sure. No one dared to hurt him after that, not with her there.
As the fat, old Mayor recites the Treaty of Treason and a long list of past District 2 Victors, Clove dances in place. He announces that Brutus and Enobaria will be mentoring this year and Clove winces a little. She never liked Brutus since he was often the one to give out the punishments. She and Peeta had both been whipped by him before she had made everyone afraid.
They still had the scars though. She had been old enough to get treatment so hers were thin lines while his were jagged wide marks across his entire back. She hadn't had any experience with Enobaria. She never dealt with students, only tributes when it was her turn to mentor. Clove had been raised to do this anyways. The mentors were only people to collect her money.
The escort walks across the stage after being introduced. He is new here, transferred from District 7 or some similarly awful place. His suit is gold and shimmering and he wears a strange hat that appears to move. He stutters for a moment before introducing himself and declaring his excitement for being here. They are always excited to be here, though none of them ever last long. He finally comes to a stop and Clove finds herself on her tip toes to watch him walk across the stage to the bowl with the girls' names on it.
The name he calls means nothing to her and was as much white noise as his speech and the mayor before it. All she can feel is the blood rushing into her head from her rapid heartbeat as she quickly walks up the steps to the stage. The girl who was reaped hadn't even bothered to move from her spot in the fourteen year old section.
She comes up next to the escort, whose smile seems overly white to her. "Ah, we have a volunteer! What is your name, brave girl?" he shouts and the hat on his head moves again. She realizes its not a hat. His hair has been wrapped into a birds cage, that an actual live bird now resides in. Clove forgets her name for a second while she stares at the bird stuck in a trap of hair products and metal.
"Clove. Clove Latro," she gets out and curses herself. Being nervous in front of the cameras is a huge mistake. God dammit, Clove. It's just a bird. Who the fuck puts a bird in their hair?
The audience claps and its enough to bring herself together. She smiles and winks at the nearest camera putting a hand on her hip that shows off the muscles in her arm and the curve of her body. She will not be remembered for losing control because of a bird. The escort heads over to the boy's tribute bowl and Clove crosses her arms over her chest and glares. Flirty and confident are good minimal traits. Aggressive is what everyone really wants to see.
He calls out the name and Clove controls her surprised reaction enough that no emotion crosses over her face. Cato was reaped instead of having to volunteer. It happens sometimes. All the training children take out tesserae for the entire household. The eighteen year olds have hundreds of slips in the bowl but its still surprising when it happens. The escort looks a little too happy about the name, leading Clove to conclude that he knew whom the volunteers would be already.
Cato walks proudly to the stage, his large, muscular body catching everyone's eyes. The escort waits for him and doesn't even bother to ask for volunteers before reaching out and shaking his hand.
"I volunteer!" The voice from the eighteen year old section cuts across the crowd and stage. Funny, someone is being funny. Cato actually laughs, as does Clove, until she sees who it is. She knows he is not joking. Peeta had managed to make his way to the eighteen year old section and was now walking up the steps of the stage. Cato and the escort both stare open mouthed at the younger boy. Clove realizes she is too and snaps her mouth shut so quickly she bites her tongue. The blood doesn't taste as sweet this time.
"You can't volunteer," Cato snaps and stands over Peeta. He has a few good inches and at least 40 pounds, but Peeta had always been faster. Clove knew they were well matched even if both of them would deny it for completely different reasons.
"Oh? But can't I? You were reaped, I volunteer. Those are the rules, right?" Peeta motions towards the escort. He nods looking slightly frightened. Cato and Peeta both tower over the smaller man. The Peacekeepers have approached the pair and Cato notices them while his fingers curl into a fist. He keeps his arm by his side.
"I'm going to kill you, Mellark," he snarls.
"Get in line behind the other twenty –three people then, Cato," Clove can practically hear the Capital audience laughing, there are even a few chuckles in this crowd. Peeta turns to the escort, "Hello, I'm Peeta Mellark. Cool bird thing," his smile is wonderful and charming and it fills her with rage.
The escort seems just as surprised by his smile as he was by his volunteering. He pats at his bird cage hair, "Uh, why, thank you. I am excited to announce the District 2 tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Peeta Mellark and Clove Latro!" He moves out of the way so that Clove and Peeta can shake hands. She thinks about squeezing his hand painfully but somehow the strength doesn't come to her and it's a weak handshake that she quickly lets drop.
She feels choked up. Emotions fly through her and she isn't sure which one to grab onto and follow. So instead, rage, sadness, and even happiness fly through her without getting a proper foot hold and each equally overwhelm her. The peacekeepers show her the way nervously as she laughs and clenches her fist and a tear trickles down her face. Why would he do that?
Maybe he has decided that death in the arena saving his only companion might be a better alternative to his other life choices. The torturous work in the mines, the horrible life of a peacekeeper forced to make all people follow the Capitol rules and maybe shipped off to some hell hole like District 12, or being the sole companion and useless boy toy of Clove for the rest of his life. He hates the mines, peacekeepers, and being useless, and most of the time, he only kind of likes her.
Was this his suicide? Is he dying for me? Or does he mean to kill me? Would he do that after everything I have done for him?
A/N Longer explanation down here. This was originally meant to be a one shot but completely got away from me and when it got to almost 20K words I just had to split it up. It will hopefully be Part 1 in a series that goes into other pairings in other AU worlds each with a different sin. I have not picked all the pairings so feel free to shout some out that you would be interested in seeing!
I have most of the first half done already so updates will come pretty orderly. For those of you reading Fire, don't worry I haven't forgotten. I really have been putting this on the backburner and just wanted to finally begin posting it.