Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine.

24 Hour Shopping

It's probably a rule that college age girls should avoid supermarkets after a certain hour. Madge is certain of it the moment she steps foot into the discount Supercalifragilisticexpi-all-you-never-knew-you-wanted-and-more store.

Even Katniss looks a little frightened by the clientele creeping around the aisles.

"He ain't right," she mutters as they pass a man dressed in several layers of mismatched clothing, having a very serious discussion with a display of toasters.

"At least he's covered up," Madge gestures to another man in what looks to be the world's thinnest wife-beater, dubbing him the 'World's Greatest Lover' across the back, and a pair of cut-offs so short she's pretty sure parts of his anatomy are falling out.

Katniss, who has some exceptional aversion to nudity, cringes, "I'll get the 7-up. You get the medicine."

She takes off, in the opposite direction of the never-nude, toward the grocery section of the store.

Madge sighs and takes a left, past the line of shady looking people waiting to fill their prescriptions, then down past the acid reflux medications and supplements.

She picks up several boxes, reads through the list of ailments before calling Peeta.

"So do you have a headache, sore throat, nasal congestion, and cough, or headache, fever, stuffy nose, sinus pressure, and chest congestion?"

"I don't know," he grumbles, barely audible over the phone. "I think I'm dying."

He was so dramatic. "I'll get both, then you can overdose yourself on Tylenol."

"Sounds great."

He must drop the phone, it echoes harshly in her ear. She sighs and hangs up.

She tosses the medicine in her basket, and begins to push off, go find Katniss and help her fend off the gross half-dressed people, but when she takes the corner she hits something. Another basket.

"Oh, god, I'm sor-"

Her apology dies on her lips when she recognizes the driver of the other cart.

The pushy jerk from the sporting goods store. Great.

He smirks at her, his cold eyes flicker up and down, take in her sloppy pony tail, paint stained t-shirt, and ragged running shorts.

"Well if it isn't Hawthorne's sloppy seconds," he sneers. "You dropped that loser yet?"

Before she can stop herself she snaps, "No."

Cato, she thinks that was his name, laughs.

"Oh really? He lets a pretty little thing like you go out this late without anyone to watch your back?"

She isn't sure if he's threatening her, maybe he is, but he's in for a surprise if he tries anything, she has a little can of mace with his name written all over it in her purse. Madge would enjoy watching him dissolve into a sobbing mess if he so much as looked like he was going to touch her.

"I don't need permission. Or back up."

That was partly a lie. She hated going shopping alone, for this very reason. Jerks who didn't take 'no' for an answer.

"Hmm," he pushes forward, leans on his handles, grins at the sparse contents of her basket. "The master hunter got a little cold?"

Madge thinks about hitting him with her basket again, harder this time, but decides he's probably the kind of guy that likes that kind of thing.

"Get out of my way." She has a sick and pathetic Peeta to get back to and Katniss is probably dodging the cut-offs guy in the frozen food section by now.

His mouth turns up, "In a hurry? Or are you just programmed to go through things quick? I heard Hawthorne is a little fast on the draw."

She did not need that information, true or not.

"Gale has a lot more endurance than you do, trust me."

What did she just say and why?

"Oh?" Cato arches his eyebrows up, "Want to test out that theory?"

No, I don't, thank you very much.

"You would just embarrass yourself."

A deep laugh comes from behind her, a very familiar laugh…

Gale's hand slides around her waist, pulls her to him, her back colliding with his chest.

Why he's here she isn't sure, she'd been hoping to win this battle herself, but since Cato seems to think she's only some kind of prize and not an actual human being, she supposes Gale's help is useful.

His forearm wraps around her waist, presses into her stomach, as he leans down and rests his chin on her shoulder. Hot breath hits her neck as he nuzzles into it, she can feel his lips moving against her skin even though she has no idea what he's saying. Her mind is too foggy with his proximity.

"I said," Gale lifts his head from her shoulder, puts his lips to her ear, "Is this asshole bothering you again?"

A shiver runs up her spine, he has to feel it, he has her so closely pressed to his body.

"No," she almost whispers, though why she's whispering she isn't sure.

He presses his mouth to her collarbone, she feels his teeth scrap against her skin and nearly gasps.

They are in the middle of a supercenter for pity's sake!

She lets a nervous little giggle bubble out as she looks around, praying none of the weird old ladies that had been waiting on their medication had come around and seen the little display. They'd definitely need something for their heart rates and blood pressures if they had.

"Gale," she chastises him through gritted teeth. "We should get going."

Cato snorts, "Yeah, Hawthorne, wouldn't want you to waste your sixty seconds in the store. Poor girl will have to do all the work herself."

Madge gives him a scandalized look.

"Just because you can't bring your A-game everytime doesn't mean we all can't." Gale's hand drops a fraction, down to Madge's hip, gives it a squeeze. "Madge always leaves satisfied." He grins at Cato, "We're just in a hurry because we hit a little snag."

He reaches past her, snatches a box from the shelf. It takes her a second to realize what he's grabbed. Her mouth drops slightly when it hits her.

Gale's hand, the one not kneading into her hip, reaches up and closes her mouth, "Not yet, honey."

Did he just…

It takes every ounce of self-control she possesses not to elbow him in the ribs.

Cato sneers, "Yeah right. If she were going down on you I'd be able to see the evidence. Sores from someone with your level of infectiousness can't be easy to hide."

Madge feels her face burn on Gale's behalf.

Gale chuckles, "Whatever helps you sleep better at night, limp dick."

Cato laughs, hits Madge's basket with his one final time before disappearing towards the deodorant aisle.

Despite the fact that the menace is gone, Gale still has his arm wrapped around her, his fingers are still digging into her hip. She can smell his dinner on his breath with each puff he exhales. He's a little damp, smells faintly of sweat, maybe he'd just come from the gym on campus.

"You can let me go now." He was making her a little…uncomfortable.

He looks down, apparently hadn't realized he was still groping at her, and lets go, jumping back.

"Sorry."

"S'okay."

Madge can still feel her cheeks burning, presses her cold hands to them. Gale is in a pair of baggy gym shorts, a slightly baggy shirt with a 'v' of fading sweat down the front, from his neck down to his stomach. He had just come from the gym.

He looks a little darker than usual, she would almost swear he's blushing. He takes a breath, "He's lying, you know."

Madge isn't sure what he's talking about, she's a little preoccupied with her still stupidly racing heart. She wrinkles her nose, "What?"

"About, uh, sores." He is definitely blushing. "I don't have anything."

Why it's important to him that she know that, she isn't sure, but nods anyway, "Okay."

"I'm really careful-"

She doesn't care. Gale's sex life isn't something she wants any knowledge of. Not in the past, present, or future.

"I always use protection-"

He really needs to stop. There are elderly women shuffling around in the vicinity, though at this time of night they're probably crazy so it may not matter what they hear.

"I've never had anything-"

It makes not one lick of difference to her.

"I promise."

"Gale!" Madge groans, throws her hands up to stop any further confessions. "What you do with your 'best friend' is really not any of my business. I don't care if he's the cleanest, uh, you know, thingy in the country or the dirtiest."

He scowls, "I just didn't want you to think I was some kind of, I dunno, cesspool."

"I don't think you're a cesspool, Gale."

With his supposed list of conquests it's hard to believe he hasn't contracted something, but, again, it doesn't matter to her.

"And I do have stamina," he crosses his arms over his chest.

Can he just stop? He's giving her a lot of unnecessary information. Interesting, but wholly unnecessary.

She covers her face with her hands, presses her fingers to her eyes for a second, before letting them drop to her sides. They need a new topic of conversation. Fast. "Why are you here?"

He shrugs, pulls a coupon from his pocket, "Needed toilet paper."

Strange time to be buying that, but when the need arises, Madge supposes, the need arises.

Reaching into her basket, he tosses up one of Peeta's medicines, catches and examines it, then eyes her warily, "Someone sick?"

"Peeta, caught some flu bug we think." She backs her basket out of the aisle and takes off toward the grocery side, Gale striding beside her. "Katniss and I are picking up a few necessities for him."

She cuts him a look, wondering why he hasn't abandoned her yet, he'd done his chivalrous duty, rescued her from that jerk, he could go now.

His eyebrow knit together in a stern look, "Be more careful coming out this late at night, there are a lot of creeps out."

Madge wrinkles her nose, "I'm a big girl, and like I said, Katniss is with me."

Even if he thinks Madge is helpless, he certainly thinks much more highly of Katniss' abilities. Maybe she should show him her pepper spray…

"She isn't with you right now," he squints into the distance, past the toaster whisperer, searching for her missing roommate. "Do you know what happens to pretty girls that go out shopping at this time of night and wander off?"

She is very aware. She's an avid 'Dateline' watcher, thank you very much. But Peeta is 'dying' and she and Katniss don't want to catch whatever deadly illness he has apparently contracted. They needed disinfectant sprays and wipes before they were contaminated.

"Gale, I kno-" Wait. She stops and turns to him, narrows her eyes at him. "You think I'm pretty?"

His eyes widen just a fraction, then he settles back into a narrow scowl, "I meant Katniss."

"No, you said 'girls', plural, you meant both of us."

That's kind of a compliment. He kind of complimented her.

Gale seems to debate with himself, has an annoyed little curve on his lip, then sighs, "Fine." He lets his eyes flicker over to her, "I wouldn't kick you out of bed, alright?"

Madge snorts. She's pretty sure he's never kicked any girl out of his bed. Besides, it isn't as if she'd ever be in his bed in the first place.

When she's a half step from turning down the main aisle by the produce, Katniss appears out from behind a banana display. She gestures behind her with her thumb, "I think the weirdo in the cut-offs is following me."

"I don't think that's the same one," Madge squints into the distance. No, definitely a different one.

Katniss scowls, "How many creeps with their balls hanging out can there be?"

A lot apparently.

"What are you doing here, Gale?"

He holds up his coupon and Katniss nods. Her eyes flicker to the basket and she groans. Her hand reaches in and grabs the box Gale had thrown in earlier.

"Seriously? What is Peeta thinking?" She shoots Madge a look, "And I would think you would have more sense than to listen to him. He's just going to have to wait until he's better."

She puts the box, her two liter of 7-up, Clorox wipes, and a can of Lysol in the basket before grabbing it from Madge and taking off for the front of the store, grumbling about her sick, horny boyfriend.

Madge knows she should correct her, but since Peeta will probably be hopped up on cold medicine and won't remember if he asked her for anything weird or not, she decides to let it run its course. Watching Katniss ream him out while he giggled at the word 'condom' in his drugged up state would be worth it.

She turns to Gale, gestures to Katniss, "Guess I should follow my ride."

His face scrunches up and he nods, glancing back over his shoulder, "Do you need me to walk you out?"

"I got it covered," she opens her purse, pulls the pepper spray out. "Anyone tries anything and they're going down for the count."

He eyes the little red canister attached to her keychain, "Alright there 'Self-Defense Barbie', but maybe you should practice holding it the right way."

Her face warms. She'd bought it with the hope of never having to use it, so she had never actually looked at how she was supposed to handle it.

Gale takes the keychain from her and turns it before roughly shoving it back in her hand, "God, you'll end up blind."

Madge stuffs her spray back in her purse, feeling a little hurt. She was trying to be proactive. "You don't have to be such a jerk about it."

"When it's your life on the line…" He looks physically pained by her stupidity, "Okay, just look at shit before you use it. I don't want to hear about you on the news."

That's actually bordering on sweet. She gives him a tight smile, "Fine, I will."

"Good." He points to the front, to where Katniss is finishing checking out, "Catch up with her. You don't need to walk out by yourself."

Fine.

Feeling more than a little put out, Madge runs to the register and trails after the still grumbling Katniss.

She isn't certain, but she feels someone watching them as they walk out, put the sacks in the car, and get in. When they pull out she's positive she sees a gym shorts wearing stalker just inside the sliding doors.

"We are never shopping this late again," Katniss mutters as one of the cut-off posse sluggishly crosses in front of her.

Madge nods, "Definitely not."