District 212

by Blueberrychills94

Musical duo Cato and Peeta took the Districts of Panem by storm, their band a household name in a matter of years. The high school sweethearts now take on the unfamiliar Capitol,where fame is taken to the extreme and privacy is non-existent. When Peeta is struck down by a medical emergency, their overbearing agent Snow goes to drastic measures to ensure their image remains perfect.

1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys! Welcome to another venture into the world of Peetato! I've been wanting to write more for these two since Fallen from Grace finished and this idea has been knocking around my head for a while! Excuse my atrocious lyric writing, I am so bad at writing song lyrics. If anyone wants to lend me a hand with the song writing, send me a PM and let me know!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

District 212

By Blueberrychills94

Chapter One

"Tonight we have two very special guests, it's the Musical Duo that have been taking Panem by storm ever since they released their Number 1 hit: Two Sides!"

The roar of the crowd was almost deafening. Peeta winced and rubbed his ear, as if that were going to alleviate the sound somehow. Cato simply chuckled, amused by the crowd's reaction to the mention of them. Peeta was baffled by how excited these people were just by the knowledge that he and Cato were in the building. Caesar Flickerman was one of-if not the-biggest talk show host in modern media. Never mind being baffled by the audience, Peeta was baffled that they had been asked to come on the show at all! It was rather amazing.

The stagehands led them out of the Green Room and down to where the studio was. Peeta felt his heart pounding in his chest and had to grab Cato's hand for support as they were left lingering on the edge of the studio, ready to be given the go ahead to go on. This was their first interview since they'd released Two Sides and he hadn't expected such a reception.

Cato squeezed his hand and smiled that reassuring smile of his. The one that never failed to put Peeta at ease. Peeta returned the smile and exhaled, allowing himself a second of respite before the madness began. The calm before the storm.

"Here to talk about it tonight is District 212!"

Cato gestured for Peeta to go out first, which the smaller boy did rather coyly. He was momentarily blinded by lights and the screams of the people in the audience. Comforted by the knowledge that Cato was right behind him, Peeta felt more comfortable in his skin. He went over to Caesar and shook his hand, side stepping so Cato could do the same. They sat down and actually had to wait for the crowd to shimmer down, which took three whole minutes.

When the ruckus finally did die out, Caesar flashed the cameras and the audience one of his wide, winning smiles. "It's great to have you both on the show," he said.

"It's great to be here," Cato replied, immediately at home with himself and talking as if he was just having a casual chat with a friend.

"So which one of you is which?" Caesar enquired, gesturing between the two of them.

"I'm Peeta," said Peeta, "and that's Cato."

"What made you come up with the name District 212? It's clearly a homage of some sort to the regional system in Panem, am I right?" asked Caesar.

"Uh, yeah," Cato answered, "I'm originally from District 2 and Peeta is from 12 so we decided to merge them both into one name."

"At least you both weren't from 12 or you'd have just be called District 12 12!" Caesar laughed and the audience did too. Peeta found himself smiling. This wasn't so bad . . .

"Now," Caesar said, being faux serious. He leaned forward in his seat, as if he were about to share a massive secret with them. "A little birdie told me that you're both going out. Am I right?"

Peeta flushed bright red, making the audience go 'awww', and Cato took the liberty of explaining. "Peeta and I have been dating since high school. We were in the same music class, hence how we discovered that we could . . ." He gestured with his hand, implying the reason why they were there at all. Peeta vaguely wondered how they found out about that but didn't ponder too hard on it because he didn't really mind if people knew about their relationship. It was hardly something Peeta wished to hide.

Cato placed a hand on Peeta's shoulder and smiled. "I couldn't have done this without him. He's my world."

The crowd went nuts for that, clapping and cheering like they were personally invested in their relationship somehow. The support was overwhelming to Peeta and he couldn't help feeling touched by how happy they were for them. He took Cato's hand in his own and held it between them, unable to keep the smile from his face.

"Will you be making more music in the future or will this be a one hit wonder, do you think?" Caesar continued by asking.

Peeta and Cato exchanged a look. "We have every intention of further pursuing our music," Peeta answered. It was true. Peeta and Cato were going to continue working on their music, writing and releasing new songs as they came. Maybe someday they would release an album too. They didn't expect to get any more number 1's, however. The success of Two Sides was beginner's luck, or a fluke of some sort. They would fade into the background, like all musicians do.

Their fifteen minutes would run out.

~xXx~

Three years later

"One hundred;

One hundred and one;

One hundred and two;

One hundred and three;

One hundred and-oh fuck I nearly fell off!"

Cato chuckled as Peeta grabbed the back of his neck and dug his knees harder into his sides to remain balanced. Cato continued regardless, lowering back down to the ground before pushing himself back up again. "One hundred and oh fuck I nearly fell off?" he asked with a smirk. "I don't remember learning that number in class . . ."

"Yeah, well, maybe you just didn't listen hard enough," Peeta teased, laying his head down on Cato's shoulder as the taller blond kept doing his push ups, doing it with impressive ease even though there was another body entirely on top of him.

There wasn't much to do in hotel rooms. Sure, they were luxurious but that didn't mean that they didn't start to get boring. The hotel staff were nice; practically falling over themselves to give Peeta and Cato whatever they needed but, again, with them trapped in their room, there wasn't much to ask for besides room service. Going outside was completely out of the question. Normally they wouldn't let the masses of people that usually gathered where-ever they went stop them from going out and having fun but this was a particularly large mass of people right on the hotel's doorstep. Normally there would be time to get into a car but with the swarm outside? No, the idea was completely out of the question.

That was how Cato ended up working out. At first, Peeta had just lay on the bed reading the copy of Fifty Shades of Grey that had been left in the bedside drawer alongside the bible (kind of ironic, really) but it only took eight minutes for the novelty of the bad writing to wear off. So after throwing the book onto the floor and kicking it under the bed, Peeta had collapsed on top of Cato and moaned at him to give him something to do.

Cato hadn't stopped his set when Peeta collapsed on him, continuing his push ups as if there wasn't the extra weight at all. He told Peeta to count for him, to give him something to do, and that was how they ended up where they were now. Still bored, but with something to do at least.

Peeta wound his arms around Cato's neck and huffed. Cato smirked, amused by his boyfriend's clear boredom. "What do you want me to do?" Cato asked. "Magic up something to do?"

"You could do," Peeta protested. "Would certainly give me a hand."

"I'm sorry, I left my magic wand at Hogwarts," Cato answered back.

"Well that was stupid of you," Peeta replied indignantly. He rolled off of Cato's back and lay on his own on the hotel floor. "Who knew that staying in hotels would be so boring? I can't leave the room without having to look left and right first. There's nothing to do staying holed up in a room."

"Technically we are doing something," Cato contradicted. When Peeta's head turned towards him with confusion, Cato grinned and said, "We're hiding."

Peeta scoffed and shook his head. "Of course, how did I not catch on?" he said flatly.

"Oh, I also forgot, you're whinging too. That's something."

Peeta turned onto his stomach and propped his head up on his hand, resting his elbow against the soft material of the carpet. His blue eyes moved up and down, following Cato's movements as he continued his set. "We're in the Capitol-the biggest city in all of Panem-and once again we're staying hidden away like some sort of criminal couple!"

Cato's eyes lit up at the idea. "Sounds intriguing to me," he said.

"You're thinking of me being Bonnie and you being Clyde aren't you?" Peeta couldn't stop a smile breaking out across his face at Cato's ridiculousness. Cato nodded, a cheesy grin of his own on his face. "Why do I have to be Bonnie?!"

Cato turned around to lay on his back and Peeta automatically climbed on top of him, like a moth drawn to a flame. Having Peeta's weight push his body into the ground always reassured Cato, whether it be the front or the back. As the more dominant partner, Cato felt comforted by the knowledge of Peeta being comfortable and happy. The same went for Peeta, on a more submissive spectrum than Cato.

"Because you're the woman in this relationship," Cato teased, threading his fingers through Peeta's to hold his hands.

Peeta's nostrils flared as he had no evidence to back up an argument saying that he wasn't. They'd tried switching roles in the bedroom in the past and all it had achieved was-okay, quite enjoyable sex-but not to the level it was during their normal routine. Peeta pushed against Cato's hands, lowering his body down to lie against the extension of his boyfriend's. "Well, you can't deny that you love it," Peeta teased.

Peeta always pulled the cutsie card to win arguments or simply prove a point. Cato was amazed by it, unable to comprehend how a boy who had expressed on numerous occasions how he was far from having the innocence of a child could still have the ability to behave in such a way. Then again, Peeta still had his moments. When complimented in interviews; or by fans; or by anyone in general who wasn't Cato, the younger boy would clam up and turn into such a flustered little thing. The teasing Peeta was a Peeta only Cato got to see, for that he was eternally grateful for.

Cato lifted his head and kissed Peeta, letting go of his hands to push his fingers into the boy's hair. Peeta's eyes fluttered, his own hands resting on Cato's chest as he opened his mouth and gladly let the older boy explore deeper inside. Inside his lover's mouth was warm and welcoming, the moist caverns delectably soft to the touch. And when Peeta would let a moan slip, his mouth would vibrate, causing further incentive and stimulation for Cato.

Peeta dragged Cato's shirt up as they kissed, dragging his fingernails down his chest and abs teasingly. Cato groaned and returned the favour by sliding his hand over the boy's butt, giving it a harsh squeeze to push their hips together. Peeta groaned with approval, his body matching the movements of Cato's as they made out on the carpet. Dragging his lips away from Cato's, Peeta kissed his boyfriend's neck, slowly moving downwards and dragging his lips along his torso.

The feeling of his lover's soft lips on his skin made Cato hard with want. Peeta purred against Cato's abdomen as Cato started to massage his behind, showing his approval to the younger boy's advances through the thorough groping of his plump backside. Peeta's eyes fluttered with desire and he scraped his teeth along Cato's skin temptingly. Cato's fingers tightened in Peeta's hair and when the younger blond looked up to him with a searing look in his eyes, Cato's darkened with hunger.

"They'll hear us," Peeta whispered fearfully.

"Not if we're quiet," Cato replied.

Peeta scowled, causing Cato to grin. "Ha ha," he said flatly.

"Don't get prissy with me just because I'm so amazing in bed that you can't keep quiet," Cato taunted cheekily.

Peeta's eyebrow twitched. Cato loved how easy Peeta could be to wind up sometimes. It made him more stubborn which, in turn, made him even more painfully alluring. Cato pushed his hand underneath Peeta's underwear and teased his ass with his fingers. Peeta's breath shuddered and he closed his eyes, sitting back on his boyfriend a little to enjoy the ministrations he was performing.

There was a sudden loud bang at their hotel door. Not the bang of a fist knocking, but more of a bang that came with someone's body hitting the structure. Both men paused, barely breathing out of fear of being heard. Then, like tiny mice coming out of the cracks, they heard them. Whispers. Excited ones, at that. Peeta sighed heavily and swung himself to his feet.

"How did they find out our room number?" he asked tiredly.

"How do they find out anything is more my question," Cato sighed, also getting to his feet.

Being constantly stalked by fans wasn't the most enjoyable of experiences. Cato and Peeta loved their fans, they really did, without them they'd still be singing in Cato's bedroom and not to millions of people. However, when they were constantly on their back; following them everywhere; and behaving like they have a right to know what was going on in their personal lives it did become an exhausting feat to venture.

Peeta walked into the bathroom, previous arousal from their heated exchange long forgotten, while Cato threw himself into a computer chair, rolling over to the phone and dialling the number for the reception desk. Peeta didn't like it when they had to tell the people in charge that their fans were running amuck but it wasn't a question of whether they could or couldn't do it. Some of them were . . . excitable. They would run around and laugh and scream if they knew that Cato's shoes had treaded the carpet of a particular hallway. There were other guests in the hotel, and Peeta knew that they had to respect that their fans' behaviour could upset them and possibly ruin the establishment's reputation.

Sometimes, if they were in a good mood, either Cato or Peeta would go out to ask them politely to go themselves. They could then at least give them something to part with. Like a photo or an autograph. They didn't tend to make a habit of it though because if rumour got out that they were doing it for every fan that came to the door then the entire swarm from outside would be on their doorstep.

Peeta washed his face, dampening the nerves that had been awoken by the fumble with Cato. "What time do we have to leave at anyway?" he asked, grabbing a towel to wipe his face with.

"Five o'clock," Cato answered.

Peeta returned from the bathroom, subconsciously patting Marisol on his way out. Marisol was Cato's guitar. He had had the same guitar since he was ten years old. It had belonged to his dad and was designed especially for someone left handed like Cato. She was a bit rough around the edges but still played beautifully. She meant the world to Cato and anything important to Cato was important to Peeta too.

Later they had to go finish filming a music video for their next song release. Peeta liked this particular song. It was faster than their usual music but the change was refreshing. He only hoped their fans would think the same thing.

"Where's my guitar pick?" Cato muttered, ducking under the desk and rummaging around in the bags they'd shoved underneath.

"Where you left it," Peeta answered, throwing himself onto the bed and reassuming the previously tossed copy of Fifty Shades. He couldn't even pretend to read it, cringed, and shoved it back into the drawer where he had found it.

Beds in 5 Star Hotels never failed to amaze Peeta. He had been raised in a family that had a decent but not regular income. He sometimes slept on the floor, and would take turns with his brothers every few nights to see who got to sleep on the camp bed, which was really only four planks of wood and a thin, pathetic excuse for a mattress. After meeting Cato; falling in love; and getting discovered at the District 12 Star Squad by a Capitol Scout, thrusting both him and Cato into the spotlight; he had been sleeping on these huge, thick beds. Huge, thick beds that felt like marshmallows to lie on. If he didn't have a job to do, Peeta would spend the rest of his life in these Capitol Quality beds. Preferably with Cato.

"Well if I knew that, I wouldn't be asking would I?" Cato asked with exasperation.

Sensing his boyfriend getting frustrated, fast, Peeta threw himself over the edge of the bed, digging his knees into the mattress to have a quick sweep of underneath. They'd only been in the hotel for a day and a half and the underbelly of their bed already looked like a warzone. Cans of coke and red bull; packets of crisps; tissues; socks; everything. Peeta always made sure that they cleaned up after themselves before they left but the period between arrival and departure was always a cluttered jumble of disorder.

"Here it is!" Peeta declared, spotting Cato's lucky orange guitar pick underneath an overturned shoe.

"Oh thank god," Cato replied, taking the pick from Peeta when he hauled himself back up and kissing the younger boy gratefully. One might wonder why someone would care so much for a guitar pick-you could get them at any music store-but Cato didn't like to play with any old guitar pick. This one had sentimental value, the same standing of value as Marisol herself.

"You're getting careless," Peeta teased.

Cato flicked the pick between his fingers, the piece of plastic moving so smoothly between his fingers and thumb it looked like he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing. He hummed in agreement and sat on the bed beside Peeta, a confused look on his face. "How did it even get under the bed in the first place?"

Peeta paused. "Don't ask me," he concluded. "It's your pick. I'm surprised we aren't finding Marisol in the shower cubicle or out on the balcony."

"We're talking about Marisol here, not your sneakers, Peeta," Cato joked, poking Peeta's side and making him yelp.

"I do not leave sneakers in the shower!" Peeta protested, nostrils flaring with fake rage. He could not pretend to be angry for long, however, and broke out into a cheesy grin. Cato laughed and kissed the smaller boy softly.

Peeta melted into the bed, cupping Cato's face in his hand and rubbing the faint stubble on his cheek with his thumb. "You need to shave," he teased between his boyfriend's velvet lips.

Cato scowled, pretending to be angry, like Peeta had done moments ago, before nuzzling his face into the boy's neck, scratching the sensitive skin with his sharp stubble. Peeta shrieked and weakly struggled, laughing as Cato pinned him to the bed and attacked his tickle spot with his devious facial hair. His hands found Cato's, their fingers threading together as they play fought on the bed.

"This is how your pick gets lost," Peeta pointed out.

"As long as I know where it is now, I'm fine with it," Cato chuckled.

Peeta laughed as Cato's hair grazed a particularly sensitive spot, causing the younger boy to throw his neck back further. Tickling turned to kisses and in what felt like a blur, Cato's weight was crushing Peeta into the plump mattress, his lips massaging the skin of the smaller boy's neck while said boy in turn moaned and rutted against him. Cato wasn't one hundred per cent sure what done it, but he was pretty sure that it had something to do with how Peeta had a beautiful, swanlike neck that was always pale as porcelain and begging to be dirtied with some hickies.

"Do you think they're gone?" Cato murmured against Peeta's skin, dragging his guitar pick along Peeta's hipbone tauntingly.

Peeta groaned and pushed into the touch, shaking his head. "I don't know. Possibly? How long has it been?"

"I don't even know if I could control myself if a whole room was watching right now. . ." Cato paused for breath, his heavy breathing matching that of Peeta's as both fought to catch their breath again. Every time they were in the Capitol, their sex life had to come to a halt. They couldn't risk the gritty details of what they did behind closed doors getting out into the public and with the type of technology available in this paradise of a city, neither of them knew what their Capitolite fans were truly capable of.

"Down boy," Peeta chuckled, eyes fluttering and bottom lip sliding between his teeth as they accidentally brushed each other down in their neither regions. Cato tilted his head and moved closer, keen to continue kissing Peeta's skin anyways, only to be stopped by Peeta pushing him back by his forehead. "You can't leave marks today."

Cato groaned his displeasure. "Why not?"

"You know why not," Peeta answered. "We can't let the prep team find it . . . The rumours that would become of it. Remember how that absurd story of us going to a brothel started? Just because you were seen walking around with Clove in 2! And she has been retired from that place for years!"

"That would have been a scandal, though," Cato reminded Peeta. "What would the headlines for this be? 'District 212's Peeta Mellark has a healthy relationship with his boyfriend'? Oh the horror! Just imagine it, babe. Disgusting!"

"I'll slap you," Peeta snickered teasingly.

"You should, really," joked Cato. "I'm an arrogant jerk at heart."

"Oh just shut up you," Peeta grinned, pecking Cato's lips lovingly. "We'll have to go soon and the novelty of whether or not we'll do it is becoming rather boring, don't you think?"

"Couldn't agree more," Cato answered, rolling onto his back beside Peeta. He began fiddling with his pick again, only this time Peeta could see the twitch in his fingertips.

"What are you thinking about?" the younger boy asked, propping himself up on his elbow and stroking Cato's chest with his hand to comfort him.

Cato shrugged into the cushions, eyes sliding closed. His face scrunched up. "It's all become rather daunting, hasn't it?"

Peeta chewed on his bottom lip, having somehow predicted that this was what Cato would say. "Yes," he murmured in conclusion. "It has."

In the time since Cato and Peeta had released Two Sides and swept through the charts like a mento coke rocket, they had slowly been climbing the social ladder. Their agent, Cornelius Snow had been working them hard so that they would reach where they were now: In the Capitol. It took three years to take the Districts, thousands of people falling in love with their music and their charisma. It usually took decades to break the Capitol, yet Peeta and Cato charmed them all in a handful of years.

Now they were actually in the Capitol . . . It was becoming a bit intimidating.

"I don't want to fuck this up," Cato explained.

"You won't," Peeta said confidently. "You know our music like the back of your hand. You've been playing Marisol since you were a toddler. I'll be forgetting the words before you're forgetting the music."

Cato scoffed, a smile playing on his lips. "I can't see that happening," he said.

Peeta rolled his eyes and laid his head down on his boyfriend's chest. "Neither of us are going to mess this up. We're going to make it big here, just like everywhere else. I have faith in us."

Cato knew that as long as he had Peeta's faith, then everything would be alright.

~xXx~

One of the reasons that Peeta and Cato captivated the country so easily was that they appealed to a wide range of audiences. Peeta's voice had a range so vast that he could sing almost anything. It was one of the only, and most baffling, cases of tone and pitch range anyone had ever seen. When he was in high school, the music teacher Miss Cartwright fell in love with his talent and got him to perform at every single occasion the school ever had and made sure that he auditioned for all performances.

It was a similar case for Cato. He had an amazing singing voice, too, except not on as wide a spectrum as Peeta. Where Peeta excelled in singing until his voice box burst, Cato was the instrumental expert. Without exaggeration, Cato could play almost anything. It came second nature to him, like he was born with the knowledge of how to work any instrument that was placed in front of him. He mainly stuck with Marisol, though, but his ability stretched to violins; flutes; drums; piano; clarinets; even the simple recorder. If he didn't recognize the instrument, it didn't take him long to figure out how to worked.

Cato met Peeta in their music class in high school. They didn't give each other a second glance the first few days, keeping to themselves and trying to adjust to the differences high school presented compared to middle school. It hadn't been until Miss Cartwright started assigning students to particular places in the group, such as musicians; singers; writers; etc. that their attention had been brought to one another.

Miss Cartwright asked Cato to start bringing Marisol to school with him, so she could teach him some songs (mainly for the benefit of performing for the school). She didn't know about Peeta until much later and it had been completely by accident.

Cato didn't know that Peeta could sing. In fact, no one did. They just assumed that he was going through the motions until they got to choose what they could or couldn't study. However, when a girl whose mother had been friends with Peeta's father joined the class and asked if he had sang for them yet, Miss Cartwright had latched onto the idea like a cougar in heat.

Poor Peeta had been stunned by being called on so suddenly. This was when Cato first noticed him. Sitting at the very back of the room; head down; blushing furiously as all eyes fell on him. Immediately Cato had been struck by how adorable the boy was, and he wondered how he had never noticed him in the class before. Must have been because he was so quiet.

But when he sang . . .

Wow.

Cato still couldn't put it into words what Peeta's voice made him feel. He couldn't find the right words. All he knew was that the stunned expressions on everyone in the room's faces when he finished was the perfect picture of what Peeta's talent did to people. To make it even more astounding, Peeta had tried to convince Miss Cartwright that he wasn't that good and that many people exaggerated what he sounded like.

It took a few months after for Miss Cartwright to start pairing Cato and Peeta together to work on pieces. Once they were put together though, they sailed through the assignments like they were child's work. Then, there was the final assignment in their Senior year. Where they had to write their own piece to perform.

That was when they wrote 'Two Sides'.

It was during this long process that Cato and Peeta grew close to one another. Peeta was intoxicating, his shy quirks and interesting conversations so addicting that it didn't take Cato long to fall for him. It had been so fast and so easy, but neither regretted a thing. It was in Cato's bedroom, with sheet music coating the bed and falling off the edges onto the floor, where he held Peeta by the waist and kissed him for the first time.

They never looked back since.

Cato watched Peeta from across the set. The younger blond was swamped by his prep team, the four people that had been following them since they first started travelling the Districts. Portia, their head stylist, made sure that everything they did or wore was tasteful and would match the tone of the video they were filming. Their new song had an amatory theme to it, so their clothes were a little bit suggestive. According to Snow, this sort of thing sold like cupcakes in the Capitol. Cato and Peeta trusted him on this, since Snow himself was Capitol born.

Cato knew that Peeta liked this song. It was different from the usual music they performed, and Peeta always enjoyed exploring new territories. Even if said territories meant that he had to be shirtless in a music video. Peeta could be extremely insecure, especially where it concerned his body, and the set had to be a closed one because of this. Cato had asked if there was a different storyline the video could take, one where Peeta wasn't shirtless, but Snow had insisted that the Capitol would love it, so they went with it. Cato wasn't to wear a shirt either but he didn't mind all that much. He had never been as coy about that sort of thing as Peeta was.

Using the term 'storyline' was a very weak description. Music videos on a whole weren't really made to make sense but Cato always made it a priority to make sure that District 212's videos always had both of them in it, as an expression to their fans of their involvement and care for the songs that were being played. Their fans knew that Cato wrote most of their music, but sometimes it was questioned, some claiming that there had to be a ghost writer somewhere, but it was yet to be proven. And it would never be proven. Because it wasn't true.

Peeta looked fantastic. Portia and her team always outdid themselves, making Cato's heart flip every time he laid eyes on his boyfriend. There wasn't much that needed done in terms of make up this time, but there was a touch of foundation on Peeta's face here and there, smoothing out a few blemishes in his skin. His jeans hugged him in all the right spots, making his ass look unbelievable.

Then there was his torso.

Peeta's body was a product of the labour he bore while working his parents' bakery. He didn't work out like Cato did-his body wasn't rock hard-but the fact that he was soft in some places were what made him so easy on the eyes. He had muscles, there wasn't a doubt about that, you could see the faint outline of his abs, but the fact that they weren't defined like Cato's was what had always made Peeta embarrassed about himself. He didn't think he was good enough.

"You look incredible," Cato complimented, making Peeta turn red.

"Don't start," Peeta said shyly, crossing his arms. His eyes drifted along Cato's frame and he sighed longingly. "You look amazing too."

"Well, there has to be some sort of reason you put up with me," Cato teased, gesturing to his naked torso with a cheesy grin. The only difference between himself and Peeta was that he had Marisol strapped to his back, the forest green strap cutting across his chest and stomach to wind around his hip and back.

"Of course," Peeta smiled, lighting up the entire room. "What else is there?" He looked down at himself; at the clothes Portia told him to wear. "We're being sponsored by Cinna Kravitz, did you hear?"

"I didn't," Cato answered, he too taking another look at the jeans he was wearing. "No wonder we look so good."

"Ah, your modesty never fails to amaze me," said Peeta.

Cato almost missed what Peeta had said. He got distracted by how when Peeta breathed in, his stomach would move back while the front of the jeans stayed put, leaving a tiny gap where if Cato stepped close enough he would be able to peer down. Even where he stood he could see the blond hairs that led downwards to where only his eyes had access to. (Cato liked wording it that way, as since Peeta had been a virgin when they met, he really had been the only person to ever see his intimacy in such a way. It was something he was extremely proud of).

"Cato so help me God if you don't look me in the eyes right now I'm going to slap you," Peeta warned.

Cato shook his head and met Peeta's eyes with a goofy grin. "Then you need to stop looking so hot," he replied.

Peeta facepalmed himself. "You're an idiot," he sighed.

"Again, why else do you put up with me?" Cato enquired.

Peeta laughed. He kissed Cato, pushing up on his tiptoes to do so, before stepping back with finality. "Now behave," he said with impressive authority.

Cato nodded. "Yes sir," he said with mock seriousness.

Cato sat himself on the stool in which he would remain in throughout the entire video. Peeta would move around a lot throughout, re-enacting the words in which Cato would be singing. Peeta had a section near the end, where he would draw himself close to Cato and hug him tight, singing the only slow part of the entire song:

"If only you could see me, I wish that you would;

You're always there, but also not;

I wonder if you know;

That all you'd need to do, is say my name;

And I'd make sure to be there."

Despite its quick pace, it was a rather melancholy song about two people who admire one another but don't believe that the other even knows they exist. Cato tried to always keep an element of truth in his work so when he wrote this song, he involved some of his true thoughts about Peeta. It made his songs more realistic and relatable, especially when it came to the amorous bits.

"Your eyes are always alight with mirth, but I know there's something deeper;

You want someone to love you; to hold and satisfy you;

I will be that man, the one to pin you to that wall;

To make your lips swell; your body quiver;

I know you want it; if only you could see me . . ."

During the filming of a video, you don't actually sing. Well, some do because it makes it easier but most of the time it's just lip syncing. Cato altered between one and the other, depending on the mood he was in or how he felt about the particular song he was performing. If he had Marisol with him, he usually chose to sing properly. Peeta always sang. Even if he was just whispering the words, he wanted to make it genuine.

Having a camera pointed at you while you weren't doing much but lip syncing a song was a weird experience when they first started out but after doing this for three years, they had grown used to it. Peeta had been more reserved than Cato at first, especially when it came to things such as draping himself around him or sharing a kiss in front of the camera. He wasn't even one hundred percent comfortable with it now. He dealt with it because it was necessary for their career. And Peeta's career came alongside his music and his music meant the world to him.

For the end, when he was singing his bit, Peeta sat by Cato's feet, his head resting on his boyfriend's knee while he continued to play Marisol. Cato had to pretend he didn't see him. Every time Peeta would open his mouth and sing, Cato would feel a twinge in his gut. Each time was like the first, and it prompted the same reaction every time. Complete awe.

"Well done boys!" The flamboyant Capitol director beamed. He had this crazy green hair that was spiked up in all directions. "Not that I expected any less."

Peeta smiled, his ears turning pink with slight abasement. He graciously accepted the hug from the over eager director. Cato propped Marisol up against the chair and stood up as well, taken aback when the director then hugged him too. He smelled of lime and orange peels, a very disorientating scent.

Portia handed Peeta a shirt, which he wasted no time pulling on. As his personal stylist, Portia knew of Peeta's insecurities and did whatever she could to defuse his worry. Cato sighed and allowed the prep team to once again hustle them apart so that they could put their clothes back into their respectful bags and go out to get them their next outfit as soon as possible.

~xXx~

Peeta missed Youtube. Before District 212, when Cato and him were only starting to do their music outside of school, they did parody videos on Youtube. They didn't have much of a budget, so it was really just them mucking around in front of a camera singing mock up versions of popular songs that Cato wrote.

At this point, Cato and Peeta weren't an item. They fancied the pants off each other but were too afraid to say anything about it in case the other didn't feel the same way. Their followers, however, weren't as shy about it. They'd been insisting about this 'connection' that they claimed to see between them during their videos. When they could scroll through the comment sections of their videos, Peeta would get embarrassed and shy about it, having to leave Cato to his devices because he grew worried that he would figure out that he had a crush on him.

The comments couldn't be ignored forever though and eventually, while they were working on the lyrics for Two Sides, Cato just came out and said what they were both thinking.

"Do you see what they're talking about?" he asked, his pencil still stencilling out music notes onto the page in front of him.

Peeta remembered being taking aback. His face burned like hot coals and he felt like he'd swallowed a hamster. "See what?" he spluttered.

"You know what," Cato said firmly.

Peeta busied himself with the old sheet music they were planning to toss out. "Do you?" he threw back, mainly so that he didn't have to answer it himself.

"It depends on how you would react if I said that I did or didn't," Cato honestly replied.

"I don't understand."

"Well, are you gay?"

Peeta blushed. "I-I-I"-

"It's not a trick question," Cato had teased, smirking this sexy grin that made Peeta more flustered.

Peeta breathed in and nodded, slightly afraid of how Cato was going to react to this information. "I am."

It was then that Cato had taken a chance, fuelled by spontaneity and the spur of the moment, put his hands on Peeta's waist, amongst the sheet music and plans for their next video, and kissed him. It was one of those beautiful moments that neither would ever forget.

Yeah, Peeta missed Youtube. A lot. When they only did their videos online, they had a following but not on as large a scale as they did now. They could walk down the street without being stopped every five minutes. Occasionally there had been someone who would recognize them and stop them for a chat but it was nowhere near as it was now. On some level, despite his extreme gratefulness and joy for the success that he and Cato had achieved, he missed the privacy that their old life had so easy. Now they couldn't even kiss without someone taking a picture and putting it online everywhere for everyone to dissect and decipher.

Peeta sat on the floor of the empty set, waiting for Cato to come back from getting changed. He fingered Marisol's strings, humming the tune to Wish you Could See Me to himself. Finnick, their bodyguard and Peeta's childhood friend, stood at the door to the set. This way, he was close to both Peeta and Cato, as Cato's dressing room was directly across from the set door.

Finnick wasn't extremely professional and would only be really serious if the need presented itself. Peeta enlisted his help when District 212 started getting popular because they knew they were going to have to get a bodyguard of some description. Finnick was a bouncer, a bouncer who wasn't really enjoying his job, so when Peeta mentioned that he and Cato needed someone to be their guard, Finnick had practically jumped over the kitchen islet to volunteer.

Peeta and Cato's fans fell in love with Finnick as soon as he was first publicly seen helping them into their car. It was because Finnick was a naturally attractive man who could smile at a girl and make her pass out, so naturally their fans were going to attach themselves to him like leeches.

"You see uncomfortable," Finnick said, breaking the silence. He had been reading a Capitol magazine and pulling faces every few minutes. The city did have a . . . unique fashion sense that made Peeta cringe on more than one occasion too.

"I just miss home, I guess," Peeta frowned. He flicked Marisol, causing an out of tune twang to vibrate from her. "Everything here is so extreme."

"Tell me about it. Some of the people in these magazines would be classified as naked back home," Finnick replied. "Yet around these parts it's 'high fashion'."

"Maybe we're missing something," Peeta scoffed.

Finnick chuckled. "Still, maybe this is what it's like in the big city," he sighed, tossing the magazine onto a nearby table. He popped his head around the door and called, "You nearly ready, Cato?"

Cato stepped through the threshold, looking refreshed in his own clothes as opposed to the Capitol brands they wore for the video. Peeta smiled and stood up, picking Marisol up and carrying her over to Cato. "Here," he said. Cato accepted his guitar and slung her over his shoulder. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I think so." Cato looked to Finnick. "Is there anything else we need to do before we go back to the hotel?"

"No, not as far as I'm aware," Finnick answered, straightening the buttons on his black jacket. "Although Snow wants to talk to you both tomorrow. Something about discussing future business."

"Future business," Cato repeated. He frowned. "I didn't realise that he had plans for the future already. Our goal was the Capitol, I know that haven't thought any further than that." He looked to Peeta for help. "Have you?"

"No," Peeta answered, confused as well. He shrugged sheepishly and put his hands in his pockets. "I actually thought we were going to go on vacation after this. Not for too long, maybe just a year or so . . ."

"I like the idea of that," Cato admitted, green eyes practically sparkling as the idea of flying off to a sunny island with Peeta grew more and more appealing in his mind. "I'm sure Snow would be okay with that. We just need to discuss it with him."

"So are we ready to hit the road?" Finnick asked, swinging his car keys around his fingers.

Peeta nodded, hooking his arm around Cato's and leaning his weight against him. "Please. I'm exhausted. I can't wait to get into bed so I can sleep. I'm 100% finished with today."

A/N: Please let me know what you think! I'm quite excited for this story and the opportunity to delve into Peetato again as those boys are my babies ^_^

This is a tester chapter, to gauge thoughts and reactions. Want me to continue? Let me know! I don't know when chapter two will be up as I want to get a good portion of the rest of my current ongoing stories finished-which shouldn't take too long due as I have everything planned out for them, the chapters just need to be written-before committing to another. I won't leave it too long though, I promise!