Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the kind reviews, favorites and alerts! I am so glad you're all enjoying this story so far.
I want to take an opportunity here to have you note two things: first, my tribute train travels faster than Suzanne Collins' tribute train, and so my tributes get there at night. Boom. Deal with it. And second, even though I'm changing a lot of the plot to make my grand vision for this story come true, I am still going to work in some direct-from-the-book quotes. See if you can spot some in this chapter!
The biggest thanks to my beta, TheMayorOfBlondeVille, who got this chapter to me on time even though her computer was giving her trouble and she had to beta from her phone. Now that's dedication, people. Enjoy!
"Here are the doors to your chambers. In chamber 1 is Everdeen, Frazier is in 2, Hammond, woah—!" Effie wails as the train takes off, losing her balance for a moment. The rest of us practically fall over backwards, and Cecilia is actually knocked to the ground. Dynah helps her up as Effie says dismissively, "Never mind the speed of the train, you'll get used to it! Now, where were we… ah yes! As I was saying, Hammond is chamber 3, and then we have Mellark in 4, and Morris is in 5. You'll find everything you need in your chambers, including clothes and toiletries. No need to use those vile products from District 12 anymore!"
Thankfully, no one is stupid enough to indulge her humor. We know District 12 is a crappy district, but it's our crappy district.
Effie clears her throat, checking the agenda on her bedazzled clipboard. "Yes, well, please feel free to do anything you like and wear anything you like—everything is at your disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour, and be ready to disembark from the train at 10pm. If it influences your clothing choices for the evening, the Capitol is holding a welcome mixer for all the tributes tonight. Won't that be fun?"
Dynah raises her hand like we're in school and asks, "What's a mixer?"
Trying to hide her shock and horror, Effie answers, "Surely you know what a mixer is! Come now. Drinking, dancing… a time to mix… and mingle… with other tributes…" Apparently none of us get it, and as Effie covers her face with her hands, I can swear I hear her say under her breath, "Gah, I need to be promoted to a better district!" She recomposes herself and smiles sweetly at us, patting Dynah on the head and instructing, "Just wear something festive, dears. Now, go on to your rooms!"
We scatter quickly, and I find that my chamber, which includes a bedroom, dressing area, and a private bathroom, is the most lavish place I have ever stayed. Everything looks and feels so rich, and even smells fresh and clean and sweet. My senses are overwhelmed, and all I can manage to do after such a tiring day is lay down on the softest bed in the world and close my eyes.
This is heavenly. I can't think of how it could get any better than this.
The image of Katniss in her blue dress flashes through my mind, and suddenly I realize that it could get much, much better.
I sink further into the plush mattress and undo the button and zipper of my pants. Was it only this morning that I was interrupted from my wet dream by my brother? It seems like ages ago. Now Katniss and I are riding in the lap of luxury, on a train headed to the Capitol.
I think about how much has changed in the last twelve hours, and how Katniss may now be seriously considering her options. Maybe she'll realize soon that my failed attempt today was proof of something I thought had been transparent for years: that I am hopelessly and completely in love with her, and that I'll be the only man who will really appreciate and respect her. All of her.
Maybe she'll even realize it on the train…
As I picture it, I can feel myself grow hard in my hand: she sneaks into my chamber as I rest, and is so good at staying silent that I don't notice her until she's climbing up onto the bed. I open my eyes and see her sitting on her knees, a shy smile on her beautiful face.
"I've been thinking, Peeta," she says in a soft voice as she continues to crawl toward me. "I've been so silly. I should've noticed all those longing looks you've given me over the years…" She unbuttons the top of her dress and exposes her breasts, encased in a simple white bra. "The way you came looking for me today…" She unties the bow around her waist and her dress slips down further. "And of course, the way you saved my life when we were young." She steps out of the dress effortlessly and sits on display for me in only her bra and panties. She unclasps the bra and throws it aside as she tells me, "I think I knew then how much you loved me, but I was scared. I'm not scared anymore, Peeta."
My eyes rake over her taut body and salacious curves, and I whisper, "No… No need to be scared." I rip off my shirt and pull her to me, so we're both on our knees with our bodies pressed together and our mouths frantic to find one another. She is so warm and soft, and as our tongues dance around one another, tasting each other for the first time, my hand finds her right breast, and I knead it tenderly as if I'm kneading dough. She gasps in pleasure and throws her head back, exposing her sensitive collarbone. I pepper kisses all around her chest and neck, and her breathing grows heavy as I work my way back to her mouth.
She looks frenzied as she tugs my pants down, and I take hold of her firm ass and pull her toward me, both of us desperate to touch each other. We fall back onto the bed and kick the rest of our clothes off, and I pull back and take a moment to finally look at all of her for the first time. A beautiful blush spreads through her face and torso as I take her in, admiring her dark, dusky nipples and the downy curls that protect her most sensitive flesh.
"You are perfection," I tell her softly as I lean in and kiss her. She smiles at me and pulls me on top of her, and as I press my weight down on her, she lets out a loud moan. I must be pressing on that little bundle of nerves that Phyl told me was the key to being good in bed.
I move my hips and grind against her, and she yells, unrestrained, "Oh, Peeta! That feels amazing…"
Spurred on by her praise, I take two of my fingers and slide them around her entrance. She is so wet already, and she bucks her hips up to tell me with her body that she wants this. I slide my fingers into her and can feel her contract around me, and it makes me ache with the need to bury myself inside her. I pump my fingers a few times—in and out, in and out— as I feel and see her losing control with every stroke.
"Katniss," I whisper, a prayer on my lips, "I want to be inside you. I want that so badly, but if you don't—"
She shuts me up by kissing me fiercely, and then grabs my length firmly and places my head at her entrance. I slowly fill her, and she gasps and tenses up at first, but as I continue inward she relaxes and our eyes lock together. The look on her face—surprise, excitement, pleasure—takes my breath away. I lean in and place a soft kiss on her lips, letting her know that I'll be there for her, always, and I start to move. With every thrust, Katniss wriggles in ecstasy and whimpers my name, and it's all just too much—
I lose myself inside her as her walls tighten around me, and I wrap my arms around her securely, hoping our bodies will fuse into one and I'll never have to leave her.
I open my eyes, and find myself alone in my chamber with my pants kicked to the floor and come all over my shirt. I guess I will have to change after all.
Being careful to not get any mess on the bed, I take my shirt off and ball it up. I toss it and my pants into the hamper in the dressing room, and make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower. The water is not just warm, it's hot, and it feels so refreshing to stand under the hot stream of water that for the first few minutes I just close my eyes and lose myself. I know I don't have too much time before supper though, so once I've enjoyed the novelty of a hot shower long enough, I scrub up quickly.
After I've dried off, I brush my teeth with the fancy Capitol mint paste, and use a gel-like stick called "deodorant" for my underarms, and I am astounded by how nice I smell. I wonder if Katniss will be able to notice it…
I sigh to myself. That was—what—ten minutes without thinking of her? It must be a new record.
The drawers in my dressing area are filled with nice clothes, but I decide not to go too crazy and put on a pair of dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black and maroon striped button down shirt. I find some black socks and shoes and take a look in the mirror, and I find that I actually look pretty good. It's strange that even though I'm in jeans, I feel much dressier than I did in my Reaping clothes.
I practice winking in the mirror a few times, and then I realize how ridiculous I look. Katniss will not be won over by a wink, of all things.
I walk down the corridor past the other tributes' chambers and into the dining car, where Effie, Cooley, and Cecilia are already seated. I politely say hello to them and take a seat next to Cecilia. There is a beautiful spread of food on the table, but no one is eating. We must be waiting for everyone else to join us.
Katniss and Dynah arrive shortly after me, and I immediately get the sense that Dynah has been chattering away on the entire walk to the dining car. By the look on her face, I'd say Katniss is ready to flay her alive.
"And so I wouldn't really mind District 8 either, considering my older brother apprenticed at the tailor's and taught me how to handle a needle and thread," Dynah prattles on as she sits next to Cooley. Katniss considers her options of empty seats at the table and silently sits in the chair next to me.
See? She's already picking me, even if it's just to sit next to during dinner.
"Dynah, you're talking about these things like you have the most say in the matter," Cooley comments as the first course is served. "What about the DNA match? Or the skills tests? Or who the Gamemakers determine is best for you? Or who your sponsors want you to be paired with?"
"Speaking of which, where is Haymitch?" Cecilia asks in between spoonfuls of carrot soup.
Effie waves her hand apathetically. "I believe he's still resting, and I do not blame him. It has been an exhausting day, hasn't it?"
Something in her tone tells me she's glad to not have his drunken antics at the dinner table, and none of us disagree with her.
After the soup comes a green salad, followed by lamb chops and mashed potatoes, then cheese and fruit, and finally a chocolate cake. Everything is so rich with flavor, and after every course Effie makes sure to remind us to save room because there is more to come. I feel filled to the brim by the end of the meal, and barely touch the large piece of cake set in front of me. I feel almost disappointed not to eat it; as a baker's son, I feel like I have a professional's palette and can appreciate all the subtle flavors in baked goods.
The cake is probably delicious, but I'm sure I'll explode if I eat another bite. If they eat this way in the Capitol every day, I don't know how they manage not to weigh five hundred pounds.
I look around the table and find that almost everyone else is looking as green as I feel. Only Effie, who excused herself in between courses and was gone for fifteen minutes, still looks ravenous.
I can't help but think of starving children in the Seam and all of Effie's regurgitated, half-digested food, gone to waste. How disgusting.
"Let's retire to the sitting room to watch the Reapings of the rest of the districts," Effie suggests as she scrapes the last bite of cake off her plate. "That way you'll be able to see if anyone catches your eye before you actually meet them."
Everyone knows that even though she made it sound like an invitation, it's mandatory, so we file into another compartment and gather around a large, flat-screen television. I inadvertently end up sitting near Dynah and Cooley, so Katniss, therefore, tries to sit as far away from us as humanly possible.
Cockblockers.
A recap of the Reapings comes on and we watch the faces of this year's tributes flash on the screen. It might seem surprising that Districts 1 and 2 would have so many tributes—they have four and five, respectively—but according to the announcers, this is a growing trend in those districts.
They call themselves "Career Tributes." They make it a point not to pair bond before the Reaping so that they can go into the Games and have lots of sex and fun, and then they pair bond with each other once they're in the arena. They get all of the benefits of the Games without any of the risks.
Once in a while a Career will pair bond with someone from a less privileged district, but the Gamemakers always choose to send the pair back to the Career's home district. About five years ago, pair like that was sent to District 7, and the female of the pair, a Career from District 1, threw a shit fit on television, making the Capitol look very bad. The head Gamemaker of that year was fired, and the Careers have all gotten to return home ever since.
I glance over at Katniss as the announcers talk about this phenomenon, and I wonder if she's thinking about Gale. That's what happened to him, after all.
No one is very notable, at least to me. I feel the worst for those who are the only ones representing their districts, who have essentially been rejected by every 18-year old they know. A fox-faced girl from District 5 stands on stage looking ashamed, a boy named Blight from District 7 appears sick to his stomach, and Silo, a tall boy from District 9, even has to wipe away a few tears from his face.
Our district turns out to have the most tributes, along with District 2. There are thirty-five tributes in all this year, seventeen boys and eighteen girls.
The announcers talk about what an exciting Games it will be this year, because one girl is ensured to either be killed or be granted Single status. I take a look around the room and find dread and determination on the faces of my fellow tributes, the ones who are really in danger.
Katniss, however, is the only one seeming to be without fear. She has that resolved look on her face again. Maybe she's considering sacrificing herself? But then she would never see her mother or sister again. Maybe she's going to get right in with one of those Careers from District 2, so she can go be with Gale…
I wish I knew what she was thinking! It used to be like a game for me to figure out what her different expressions meant, but now that it means the fate of the rest of my life, it's no longer fun anymore.
The Capitol then shows other highlights of the Reapings, including Haymitch's graceless tumble off the stage. We all have a good laugh about it, but Effie does not look pleased.
She harrumphs, "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."
"He was drunk," I chuckle, remembering his foul breath as he clung to me for dear life. "He's drunk every year."
"Every day," Katniss adds with a smirk.
I smile to myself, and can't help but think that those are first words she's spoken all evening, and she spoke them to me! Well, actually, she spoke them to Effie, but in response to something I said! The girls all giggle at Katniss' comment, and she and I make eye contact for the shortest of moments as she glances around the group.
Maybe she's noticed me after all.
"Yes," Effie hisses, irritated by the joke, "how odd you all find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. For you young ladies, Haymitch can well be the difference between life and death!"
The girls' expressions have fallen into something resembling horror, and they become even more panicked when Haymitch himself stagers in and mumbles, "I misssssupper?" before retching bile onto the plush carpet and then falling into the mess.
"So laugh away!" Effie cackles haughtily. Clipboard in hand, she skips around the lump of a man on the ground and is halfway out the door before turning back and informing us, "We disembark in one hour!"
It only takes a second for us to figure out that we should be the ones to help Haymitch clean himself up.
"Not it!" cries Dynah, and puts a finger to her nose. The rest of us quickly follow her lead, and then the arguments ensue.
"Cecilia and Katniss should do it," Cooley reasons. "You girls from the Seam are going to need much more help from him than Dynah and I will."
"No way!" Cecilia contends, pointing a finger at Cooley. "I know your mother enjoys the white liquor just as much as Haymitch, so I'm sure you're used to cleaning up puke."
Cooley fumes and shouts, "Don't you bring my mother into this!"
"Besides," Cecilia continues, "I'm so puny and short, I don't think I could lift him. The rest of you all at least have some muscle."
"There is no way I'm touching him," Dynah declares. "And let's not forget, I said 'not it' first!"
"I doubt that 'not it' would hold up in a court of law," Katniss comments.
"What about Peeta?" Cooley offers, and all the girls turn to look at me. By the looks on their faces, it seems as though they like this idea.
"Yeah," Cecilia agrees. "He's kind of… impartial. We know he's guaranteed to pair up with someone, so there's no favoritism…"
Shit, the girls have ganged up on me! There's no way I'm getting out of this one, so I start to bargain with them.
"Fine," I sigh, and then implore to them, "but there's no way I can carry him back to his chambers all by myself." The argument begins again as I walk over to examine Haymitch's condition. He's got a pulse and has shallow breathing, and most of the bile ended up on his shirt. His chamber is, luckily, only two compartments away, so it should be easy enough to get him there, clean him up, and hopefully sober him up before we arrive at the Capitol.
I hear a cheer come from the girls' direction, and see Katniss rise reluctantly from her seat and make her way toward me. She stares down at Haymitch and tells me, "We drew straws."
I smile up at her and am suddenly very happy that I get to clean the vomit off this drunk man.
Wordlessly, we grab Haymitch by the arms and stand him upright, and thankfully he comes to. "I tripped?" he asks, then comments, "Smells bad." He almost falls again, but we catch him and drag him through the compartments to his chamber. We're halfway through the door when he becomes dead weight.
"Where can we put him?" Katniss asks, straining to keep him upright while also straining to keep his vomit away from her.
"Um…" I quickly consider my choices. "The bathroom?"
"Sounds good to me."
We practically roll him into the large tub, and I turn the shower on him. He doesn't budge, and I can see the disgust in Katniss' eyes. I don't want her to have to witness any more of this, and so I turn to dismiss her.
"It's okay," I say with a kind smile. "I'll take it from here."
She looks relieved, but a hint of confusion flashes in her eyes. "All right," she concedes, "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."
"No. I don't want them," I tell her. They may be servants, but to make them deal with Haymitch would just be cruel. Katniss gives me a nod and starts to leave when I realize that this may be my only chance to win her over before the Games really begin. And after the day I had today, I am not letting another opportunity slip away from me. "Um, Katniss—" I call out, and rush to the bedroom. I see her turn and drop her hand from the doorknob.
"Yes?" she asks anxiously. Maybe she thinks I changed my mind and that I want her help with Haymitch.
"I just, um…" I stumble over my words as I consider the argument I'm about to make. "I just want you to remember that, out of all the guys in the Games, I'm the only one who knows you hunt outside the fence."
She suddenly looks furious. "Are you blackmailing me?" she questions, stalking toward me.
"No! Oh, no! No, absolutely not," I explain feverishly and back up into the wall as she keeps coming toward me, fire burning in her eyes. "I just mean that, I, um, I like that about you. I like that you're so fearless and defiant. And kind, too. I think you feed everyone in town with your kills."
"You… like that," she says in disbelief.
I look down at my shoes, unable to say this next part directly to her. I can feel my face getting hotter with each passing second as I realize I can no longer hide my true feelings from her. "Well… yeah," I admit, "I pretty much like everything about you, Katniss."
A beat passes, and I look up to find her staring off into the corner of the room, clearly pondering what I've said and if she can trust my word.
"And that's why you wanted to find me earlier today," she states as a fact more than a question, like she's piecing it all together.
"Yeah."
She sighs and looks up at me, and for the first time, she appears to be a little frightened. "I've… got to go," she tells me, and then quickly leaves the room.
Why is she always doing this to me?
I hear Haymitch groan from inside the bathroom, and so I steel myself to return to my drunken mentor and help him clean himself up.
Hey, our boy's making progress! Well, kind of. Remember kids, although Katniss is a bad ass, she's pretty much all deer-in-the-headlights when it comes to emotions. Cut her some slack, she'll get there eventually. ;)
How is everyone feeling about the way this is going so far? Let me know; I'd love to hear from you!
