A/N: I'm so glad to see some reviews and favorites – but I would love to see some more of your thoughts! Thank you so much to LabRat3000 for PMing me, when the site wouldn't let you review the story. :) Also, I'm leaving next week for about 3 weeks, so no new chapters will be posted in that time period. It's kind of why this chapter's rushed and short, because I wanted to get it out beforehand. :(
Peeta
I'm surprised to see the cleanliness of Cato's room. Compared to mine, it looked like he had maids working every second of the day. Then again, he's from District 2, so I should expect that. I glance at him shuffling around awkwardly as he gets ready for bed. When he's calm and quiet, I see him as someone that could be a friend of mine - not the brutal beast I want to see dead. It's odd, being around him. Half the time I want to strangle him, while the other half I want to get to know him. Looking at him now, I'm stuck between the two. I'm still wary of my surroundings as I cross to the other side of the room and sit on the couch, awkwardly crossing my legs under me, while Cato stares at me with his shirt in his hand.
"O-Oh." I stand abruptly. "I should go." I start towards the door in silence, until I feel his hand grab my wrist and pull me back gently.
"Wait." His eyes pierce into mine again, but this time, they're filled with warmth. I'm momentarily stunned, snapping out of my daze as he speaks again. "Stay. I...I want to get to know you. As a Career."
"Did you get to know Glimmer and Marvel?" I ask curiously, wrinkling my nose as Cato stiffens, tensing as he ponders the response to my question. I make another move to leave, but then he slams his foot onto the door and jams it in place.
"No, I didn't. I don't want to." Cato grimaces at the thought of getting close to the District 1 tributes. I would laugh, but I'm feeling threatened by his sudden burst of violence. "And did I say you could leave?"
"Excuse me?" I'm shocked that he thinks he can boss me around like that. The amount of superiority and authority in his voice made blood roar in my ears. But as we glared at each other, our stoic expressions increasing the tension between us, I felt something shift in me. My anger wasn't as strong as before. There was more of a pity and curiosity. What had pushed him to become such an aggressive, conceited person? Was it just him, or what his past had done to him? My questions are unanswered now, but maybe Clove could tell me. Or Cato himself could. After a long moment of silence, he lets go of my wrist and relaxes.
"Sorry, Loverboy." He says stonily, turning sheepish as I nod curtly at him. "I just don't feel like being alone right now..."
"Nightmares?" I interject immediately, glad to see an emotional side of him that I could relate to. His face hardens, but softens as he walks to the bed and sinks into it.
"You can't tell anyone, Mellark."
"Well...I won't." I wrinkle my eyebrows as I walk to him cautiously. "But what's so bad about it if someone finds out?" When he doesn't protest to me closing the distance between us, I sit down next to him and smile gently.
"I'll look weak." He mutters. "Like you." The additional comment is soft and under his breath, but I still hear it. But instead of getting mad at him again, I ignore it, determined to befriend the vicious tribute.
"Everyone has nightmares. Even you can't control that." I reply simply, gritting my teeth as a lopsided smile appears on his face.
"Are you saying I'm all-powerful? Even me?" Cato laughs as I roll my eyes.
"Shut up, Cato."
"Make me, Peeta."
"Peeta?" I raise my eyebrows when Cato realizes his first mistake. Was he getting too comfortable around me now? Seeing me as an equal? I could only hope. He looked at me coolly and shrugged.
"That's your name, isn't it?" He stands abruptly and goes back to his drawers, grumbling under his breath.
"What did you say?"
"I need a drink." He says back, the emotional detachment Clove warned me about becoming evident.
"Just go to the kitchen and get some water."
"Not that kind of drink." Cato smirks as I look at him blankly. "Thought you would have known with that mentor of yours."
"You drink?" I stand as he pulls a bottle from his drawer, glaring at him. I felt disgusted – watching Haymitch fumble around was horrid enough. Now that Katniss and I were sobering him up, I had to deal with Cato too. "Cato, put that away."
"You're not my mom." Cato snorts, already drinking deeply. "Here, take some." He thrusts the bottle in my direction, the bitter smell filling my nostrils. I waved his attempts away, but he still persisted. He definitely wasn't drunk – he seemed to know how to hold his drinks – but he was already becoming gigglier and more boisterous by the minute.
"No, really." I sigh, turning away from the older boy.
"Loosen up, Mellark." Cato says loudly. I open my mouth to refuse again, when I hear voices and footsteps outside of the door. Our eyes meet, widened and panicked. Not that visiting other tributes was outlawed, but me in Cato's room? Fuck. That would bring up way too many questions.
In a split second, Cato tucks me under his arm and pulls me into his bed, the covers just going over my head as the doors open. I'm pushing away from him, uncomfortable with our closeness, but then the door opens and I stop fidgeting. He's squeezing me against his chest, and I try to disappear, melting into his side.
So, it was a little weird.
Oddly enough, his arm around me made me feel protected. Needed. It was a different feeling – different from the emotions I felt around Katniss, which was more of a protection or irritation when she took it upon herself to protect me instead. But with Cato, it almost felt right. He was older, bigger, stronger, and more violent. With another squeeze to my shoulders, my heartbeat jumped. Thinking that it was just my nerves of being caught, I relaxed and buried my face into his chest in an effort to become a normal-looking lump in the blanket.
"Cato?" Clove. I almost hop out of the covers, thinking it was just her, when Cato pinches me.
"Ow." I mumble into his shirt. I can almost see his crooked smile at this point, but I know he isn't dumb enough to randomly crack a grin. Cato wasn't like that – so he would definitely give something away.
"You left training early." A deep voice rumbles. I guessed that it was one of his mentors.
"I did." Cato's voice is low and thick as he tries to find an excuse.
"Are you okay?" Even though Clove was pissed at him beforehand, I could still hear the concern she felt for him.
"I'm fine. Just tired of those tributes." He sighs, his chest raising and sinking as he does so.
"You can't let them bother you." This time, a deeper female voice accompanied them. "You need to focus, Cato. You wanted to bring honor to 2, and being distracted by petty tributes will only slow you down." She paused briefly and I inhaled sharply, thinking that she was suspecting something. "We'll see you in the morning." She says curtly. I feel Cato nod back, and hear the faint footsteps as they leave.
"Wait." Cato hisses when I move. I pause, waiting with him. When everything seems to be in the clear, I leap out, flushed and red as Cato calmly drinks from his bottle.
"That was close."
"Yeah." He moves closer to me and smiles, a glazed look in his eyes. But still – he looked to be more sober than Haymitch, so that was a good sign. "Take some, Peeta. You look stressed out."
"I was just –"
"Take some." Cato pushed the bottle into my hands and tilted it upwards. I pursed my lips and - against my better judgment - drank.
Cato
I didn't know Peeta never drank before. If I did, I wouldn't have let him drink so much – because now he was a giggling, clingy mess and hell was I going to let him go back to his room. He couldn't even stay quiet for two seconds without bursting into another peal of laughter. If I let him go back, his mentor would have my ass on a plate and Katniss would be after me, no matter if she wanted to stay alive or not.
A tipsy and moody me, hanging out with a drunk Peeta.
I would have never known.
It had been amusing, watching him drink just a bit of the bottle and already start his hysterics. And for a while, I thought it was adorable – the way he patted my arm and giggled profusely at the littlest comments I made. It was basically silence between us, when Peeta wasn't laughing at a memory in his head or something I said. Watching him only made a small grin appear on my face, until he started to really cling to me. He was like a Capitol tracker – he just wouldn't get off of you. I'm not sure if this stemmed from deep within his personality or past, but it was starting to frustrate me.
"Cato," He started, fumbling over his words as he grabbed at my shirt. I picked his hands off of me gently and sighed as he clambered into my lap instead. "I want to go to my room." He slurred into my ear, nuzzling my neck softly.
"Peeta, get off of me." I muttered, turning my head away from him.
"But you're so comfortable." He whined, his grip around my neck tightening. The alcohol on his breath filled the air around me, making me light-headed. The younger boy giggled once more as I relaxed into the pillows, but frowned when I pushed him off of me. He slid onto the bed with shining eyes – was he crying?
Oh, no. Not that kind of drunk too.
"B-But Cato!" Peeta wasn't openly bawling, but he looked close to tears. "I'm so cold."
"Then get under the blankets."
"I am." I grumbled a bit and pulled the blanket around his shoulders, rolling my eyes as he pressed his face into my chest again and laid down to sleep on top of me.
"I can't sleep like that." I muttered, pushing him off. But he didn't move.
"Shhh." He took my hand and played with it absentmindedly, watching our fingers intertwine, then separate over and over. "What was it like in District 2?" He asked with wide eyes, looking like a child asking about the color of the sky. "Were they mean?"
"No." I snap, watching him flinch.
"You don't have to be so mean all the time." Peeta sighs, accustomed to my regular outbursts by now. I'm surprised that even drunk, he's still so comfortable and touchy around me – I would have thought that a small part of him would be screaming to get out by this point. "I would like you if you were nice."
"You would like me?" I ask, confused. "As a friend?"
"No, silly!" Peeta flashed a wide grin at me, tilting his head so that he rested on his chin. "We would fuck day and night!"
"Peeta!" I jerk up and he snaps up, stunned. "What are you even talking about?"
"I like 'make love' better." The blonde boy mused to himself, suddenly ignoring his surroundings and a blushing – blushing? – angry me.
"Look, Loverboy," I note another flinch from him, but disregard it. "Do you even hear what you're saying? You just made things entirely awkward between us, and I don't want you in my room anymore."
"But Cato," He starts again, his lips pulling into a sharp frown. "You invited me in."
"That means I can kick your drunk ass out."
"But you wouldn't do that." Even through his slurred words, I can hear the veiled threat and the knowing tone. And looking at him now, smiling with an adorable, lost expression, I know he's right.
Fuck.
How am I supposed to kill him now?