A/N: Big thanks to anyone who read and reviewed! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. That's kind of the idea of fanfiction, right? It's written by the fans . . . ?

Chapter Seven: Suggestive Recollections

Peeta found it difficult to sleep the next few nights. Now that he had unlocked the technique of uncovering memories from his past, they attacked him in his sleep. He couldn't stop them, especially when he was unconscious, and they poured into his head in an endless onslot of overhwelming remembrance. Some of them were okay, while others were unnerving.

The ones that involved Cato were his favourite.

The memories that vaugely came to him allowed him to piece together a scrambled image of what sort of relationship they had. Well, one year it would be a relationship, the next it would see a friendship. Another time it would come off as Cato was a parent figure, then he would be a stranger keeping a watchful eye. Peeta couldn't understand any of it. It was like they were so many things at once.

"I screwed one of the guys last night," Delly gushed.

Madge raised her eyebrows and looked around at many guys milling around the woods. "Which one?" she asked incredulously.

Delly pulled a face. "I don't know," she said. "Uh . . . I don't think he's here right now."

Peeta wasn't that surprised. Delly was famous for her quickies with various guys. She didn't have standards. As long as they weren't sweaty and have snot dripping out their nose, she didn't care. Peeta coudn't understand how she could just do that without care but he didn't question her ways. If she wanted to do that then it was her decision to.

Madge managed to swallow her judgement. Peeta was surprised, normally she would have told Delly exactly what she thought about her conquest. Yet . . . she didn't. Huh. "Where's Katniss?" she asked, changing the subject.

"She's with that guy Gale," Delly answered. She examined her nails and tsked. "Why would such a hottie like him go for a girl like her?"

"A girl like her?" Peeta repeated.

Delly shrugged. "You know, a prude." Before either Madge or Peeta could respond, she had moved on. "Although, Gale has nothing on that guy Cato. Too bad he bats for another team." Both of them looked at Peeta with cocked eyebrows.

"What?" he demanded, his face flushing.

"You know what," Delly teased. "Everyone knows that blond hunk Cato has the hots for you."

"No, he doesn't," Peeta protested.

Delly's face lit up. "Then can I have him then?"

Peeta's eyes widened in horror. "No!" he exclaimed. The thought of Delly and Cato together was unthinkable, he couldn't stand it. "You said so yourself, he bats for the other time. He wouldn't be interested in . . . you."

Madge grinned. "He'd be an idiot not to like you, Peeta," she said. "You're a hottie. You've turned more heads in the camp than Katniss, Delly and I combined." Delly opened her mouth to protest but Madge covered her mouth with her hand. "Even if Cato hasn't noticed, the other wolves certainly have."

"I don't know about that Madge," said Peeta. He picked a blade of grass out of the ground and picked at it. "And even if they were, it's probably because I'm their supposed leader." He pulled more grass out of the soil and anxiously picked at it. "I'm not the sort of person people stare at in . . . that way." He hadn't saw anyone looking at him anyway but apparently they were.

"Oh really?" asked Delly. "Then why is there a guy behind you right now giving you the once over?"

"Are you sure he's not looking over my shoulder at you?" Peeta asked, uninterested.

Delly squinted. "Nope, definitely looking at you."

"Well, I'm touched, I'm sure." Really, Peeta wasn't that worried about pervy wolves and how they looked at him. The only person he really cared about in the pack was Cato, which was odd because he hadn't even known the man a week. If Cato had been, as Delly put it, 'giving him the once over', then it would have been a completely different story. He would have been extremely embarrassed then.

"You've been very restless in your sleep lately," Madge said, placing a concerned hand on Peeta's knee. "You'd mumble and twist around a lot."

"It's fine," said Peeta, dismissing her. He didn't want to discuss the memories and how they would unsettle his sleep. He knew it wouldn't be long before the girls noticed that he was having trouble he just wished he had been a lot more prepared to answer before the questions started. What was he supposed to say to them? He didn't like to lie to them but pretending that things were fine was easier than trying to explain the flashbacks dreams.

Madge shrugged. "If you say so," she said. Peeta liked how she didn't question anything he told her. She looked around and sighed. "I better go, Thom said to meet him at the copse of pine trees."

"I'm going to talk to that guy staring at Peet, see if I can tempt him myself," Delly said, standing up with a flourish.

Peeta didn't mind sitting on his own. In fact, he was growing more and more accustomed to it. He was used to it, since his friends had always been more confident when it came to socialising than him, and there would be many a night he would spend sitting on his own while they talked to guys. Meh, it didn't matter.

Peeta got a sudden urge to go into the woods. It was a weird compulsion but he just didn't want to hang around the main camp anymore. How familiar everything still felt gave him the creeps and he knew that if he didn't keep himself busy then he would become completely consumed with his desire for answers. The woods were amazing. There was something about the open air and smell of nature that was so . . . refreshing. Peeta had never thought of himself as an outdoorsy person but now he couldn't imagine why. The forest felt like a second nature to him. He knew exactly where to go, like the entire area was mapped out in his head.

Something snapped behind him. Like a twig or a branch of some sort. It sounded distant, while also ringing loud in his ears. Peeta turned his head slightly, looking as far round as he could without actually turning completely around to face whoever was behind him. Was someone following him?

"I never really could sneak up on you."

Relief flooded Peeta system and he actually found himself smiling. He turned to face Cato, pleased to see the older man. "Couldn't you?" he asked.

"Not at all. At least it wasn't like the last time, you almost ripped my face off that time," Cato said as he approached. They stood in a circle clearing, lit up by the sun that spilled through the gap between the leaves. "It was my fault, I suppose. You had just turned for the first time and was finding it difficult to adjust. I should have known better."

Peeta felt the urge to apologize, even though he couldn't remember trying to scratch Cato's face off, but smothered it. What Cato had told him that night outside the cabin flashed in his mind. That he didn't have to apologize for anything he did in his past lives. Instead, he opted for a question. "What do you mean turned for the first time?" he asked.

Cato's eyes flashed, flickering into the black slits Peeta had saw for that first night, before turning back to normal. "Turning," he said. "It's basically what it says on the tin. It's the transition between human and wolf."

Peeta, instantly curious, stepped closer to Cato and leaned in. "Do that again."

Cato did without question. He let the change linger, so Peeta could have a proper look at his slitted eyes without having to worry about them turning back. He grinned, showing off the two pointed canines that were wedged between his front teeth. Peeta had a compulsion to reach out and touch them. Gently, of course, just to test their sharpness, but he held back.

"Of course, this is only half turning," Cato explained, letting his eyes go back to normal. "Full turning is the whole-" He made a flippant gesture with his hand-"wolf, dog, hairy shabang."

"Shabang, is that a scientific term?" Peeta asked, shocked that his voice sounded teasing.

"I like to think of it as an exotic reference," answered Cato.

They stared at each other. Peeta couldn't look away, as if Cato was a hypnotist and he was the volunteer from the audience. There was just something so . . . so mystifying about the older man's gorgeous green eyes that made Peeta wish he could stare at them forever. Cato didn't look away, either, which made him worry that maybe the wolf thought he was a kook with a staring issue. His mother had always said that you should stare at things you find beautiful, regardless of what others may thing, because you shouldn't deny yourself that right.

"What sort of wolf am I?" Peeta blurted out. He wasn't sure where the question had come from but now that it was out in the open he was genuinely interested in how Cato would answer.

The question sparked something in Cato as an affectionate grin grew onto his face. Or maybe he was just amused by the answer he was about to give, even though Peeta couldn't imagine how. "You're one of a kind," he answered.

Those five words, spoken with so much certainity, caused warmth to spread in Peeta's chest. He smiled. "Really? How so?"

"Well, normally a wolf's fur colour would manifest depending on their hair colour. For example, since I'm blond, my fur is blond." Cato seemed to take joy in explaining this to Peeta, his eyes gleaming in excited. It was a welcome sight. "But your hair-in the past, anyway-was dark. It always had been, ever since the beginning of time. But your fur was white."

"White?" Peeta echoed. Could wolves even be white?

Cato nodded. The expression on his face was seemed . . . content, almost. "The most beautiful white," he said.

Peeta fought the pleased blush that threatened to expose how happy he was. He had never been specially significent throughout his entire eighteen years and now Cato-a handsome werewolf-was telling him that he was a one of a kind wolf. "Do you think I'd still be white now, even though my hair colour's changed?"

"I hope so," said Cato.

"How will you ever find out?" asked Peeta. As soon as the question was out of his mouth, realization flooded over him. "Oh. I have to turn." The way the grin reappeared on Cato's face, Peeta knew he was right. "But how? I can't even decipher the flashbacks right now, how am I supposed to be able to cope with turning into a wolf? Not that I believe that will actually happen."

Cato gestured for Peeta to sit and they both sat in the clearing facing one another. "What sort of flashbacks have you been experiencing?" he asked. Against his own will, Peeta's mind cast immediately to the most . . . amorous of flashbacks involving Cato. Most of his flashbacks involved Cato, who featured in the varying forms that still confused Peeta now. Brother, lover, enemy, friend . . . what was he?

In the memory, to put it bluntly without being crude, they were having sex. The thought of it still sent a shiver through Peeta's system. He hadn't actually believed it when he woke up, thinking it had just been a nasty dream. And not nasty in the disgusting, offensive way, nasty in the terms of the sort of sex they had actually been having.

Peeta didn't shy away from sex. He knew it was a part of life. He wasn't a child, he didn't giggle at the mention of the word as if it were the most outrageous thing he had ever heard. The whole flashback had just caught him completely off guard. He had been pondering what Cato was to him ever since he arrived at the camp and that specific flashback should have been all the evidence he needed to come to a conclusion. But it wasn't and it didn't. Peeta couldn't accept that it was something as simple as lovers. Or maybe not even lovers. Maybe they had just been fuck buddies or something . . .

"Were we lovers?" Peeta blurted before he had properly thought it through. The silence that followed was agonizing. All he could hear was the wind as it ruffled the leaves, causing them to sway in the drift.

Cato quirked an amused eyebrow. "Where did that come from?" he asked.

Peeta couldn't meet his eyes. Never mind hypnotism, this was too embarrassing a situation. "Well . . . in one of the flashbacks we were having sex." Even though he wasn't afraid of it, saying it out loud was mortifying and Peeta wished the ground would swallow him up.

"It really depends on what time period it was," Cato answered. He didn't poke fun or tease Peeta for admitting that he had had a dream about them doing it. He was diplomatic and sensible about the entire thing. But his words still didn't make sense. What did he mean that it depended on the time period. Surely if they were lovers in one time then they'd be it again in the next and the one after that.

An image of Marvel and him kissing against the cabin railing flashed in Peeta's mind. Or maybe not.

"I couldn't really tell what the time period was," said Peeta.

"I woudn't really think so. There wouldn't be many signs," Cato replied.

Peeta frowned. "In one of them, you were dressed in vintage clothes. Like a waistcoat sort of thing. You had a fob watch, as well, on your interior pocket. If you live in the woods, why have cause for period clothes?" Now that he thought about it, most of the wolves-he hadn't seen much of the Undead, only Marvel-wore clothes made out of animal hides, leaves or sometimes just wandered around completely nude, but Cato wore mordern clothes.

"I sometimes have to venture into the District," Cato explained. "To make sure we aren't under suspicion from the locals. It's why we kidnapped you and your friends that night. We thought you were a threat. And all threats have to be elimnated. I like to blend in and I doubt if I went out wearing the skins of a bear I had killed that I would fit in much."

"No, you probably wouldn't," Peeta answered. He drew little patterns in the dirt with his pointer finger. He risked looking at Cato again. The hypnotising spell fell over him again and he held the older man's gaze with ease, despite the pounding of his panicking heart. "When can I try turning?"

Cato chuckled. "Soon, I promise," he said.

Peeta grinned. "I'm going to hold you to that."

~xXx~

Each kiss burned through his skin like fire, sliding through his veins until it reached his chest and set his heart alight. Peeta moaned, his eyes fluttering like the wings of a butterfly as he fought to control his emotions. He was sweating, even though it wasn't even that hot outside, and his hair was glued to his forehead due to the heat. He felt like he was tripping, on a high of some sort, when the truth was he was painfully sober. They both were.

His fingers pushed through silky golden locks, Cato's name rushing past his swollen lips in a pleasured sigh. The hand not desperately clutching his lover's head clutched his lower back, nails digging painfully into the strong, sweaty skin. They moved against each other insync, each time sending volts of electricity pulsing through their hungry bodies.

Peeta gave in and closed his eyes, arching his back into Cato in surrender. He wrapped his legs around the older man's waist, using the leverage to pull them closer. Cato groaned, his mouth licking and sucking on the sensitive skin of Peeta's neck. He smirked at his partner's submission, trailing his hand up his thigh and letting his hand push underneath.

When Cato took a soft but firm grip of his ass Peeta gasped, the sound immediately dissolving into a lewd purr. He threw his head back, giving Cato's mouth more skin to explore, and ground his hips up against Cato's.

Both moaned in unison, unable to contain their carnal urges.

Peeta woke up in a cold sweat. The covers were bunched at his feet, where he must have kicked them in his sleep. Peeta swallowed the lump in his throat, glad that he was alone. His friends were with their wolf buddies, staying in their cabins for the night. Peeta could ony guess that they weren't playing scrabble or trivial pursuit in those cabins.

Wiping the sweat from his forehad and pushing his damp hair back out of the way, Peeta noticed that his dream had given him an erection. Oh god, what was he supposed to do now? He let himself fall onto his back on his bed and winced a little at how wet his skin felt. He hadn't really thought about it before but he was going to have to figure out a means of getting washed. He'd have to ask Cato tomorrow.

The mere thought of Cato caused the dream to resurface in Peeta's head. It didn't make the perdicament in his crotch any easier and heat that had previously been pooled in his stomach went straight down into his groin, making it almost painful to endure. Damn, what was he going to do?

Peeta tried to think of old grannies. Not just old grannies. Old grannies and granddads. Old grannies and granddads in bathing suits on hot, sweaty days. It worked, thankfully, and he was able to throw the bedcovers over his body again without having to worry about pitching a tent. But how was he supposed to face Cato tomorrow without thinking about the dream? Not just the dream but the hard-on it caused?

Peeta groaned and disappeared under his bed covers, hiding in the comfortable gloom it provided.

Tomorrow was going to be difficult.

A/N: Things are certainly hotting up!

Please R&R with your thoughts! :D