Sorry for the late update! Time kind of crept up on me :p

I know I must sound like an overly-repetitive machine at this point, but I honestly can't tell you how big my smiles are when I check my mail and see all these notices from FF. To every reviewer, alerter, favorite-er, reader, etc: THANK YOU SO MUCH.

I do not own The Hunger Games or any related characters. All rights reserved.

-x-

Rain and wind splashed down on District 12, washing away some of the soot, at least for the time being. The powerful water poured down on the district, leaving the streets practically empty. As the wind howled and slammed repeatedly against the windows, Madge Undersee knew she had more important things to be thinking about: for example, she could have been wondering if her mother, suffering from a severe headache, had made it to Ms. Everdeen for her cure; she could have been wondering if her father had safely made it to District 11, to meet with the mayor. However, all she was thinking about was a certain gray-eyed, dark-haired scoundrel with a taste for danger and wit.

She was furious with herself for even thinking about him.

Busying herself with brushing crumbs off the table, she allowed her mind to wander. Normally, she would automatically assume that he wouldn't show up. However, at this point, she had learned not to assume anything when it came to Gale Hawthorne.

Surely enough, an hour later, she heard a brisk knocking at her door. Her heart sped up and she tried to steady herself, just in case it wasn't him.

Who else would it be?

"Who is it?" She called out tentatively, awaiting an answer.

"Me."

The husky voice that she had grown to know, love, and whoa, did I just say love? Never mind. Madge decided to continue pressing for an answer.

"Who is it?"

"Prince Charming."

"Who is it?"

"Fuck it, Undersee. I told you, it's Prince Charming. Now open up the fucking door before I decide to go eat my pumpkin carriage."

Madge flung the door open. "Oh. It's you." She tried to make her voice contemptuous and disdainful.

"Yes," Gale said, shaking his soaked hair. "It is I! Come give me a hug!" He trilled sarcastically.

Madge stepped away from him .

"Ah, Gale, you're all wet."

"Yes, I am. But the question is, are you wet?" He winked at her mischievously and threw his jacket against a wall with a satisfying splat.

"Oh God, don't make me kick you out."

"Don't make me leave before you get a chance to."

They glowered at one another, and Gale slowly turned his grimace into a huge, toothy grin.

"Well, pal," he slapped her on the shoulder with an air of camaraderie. "What are we going to do? There's a mild drizzle and a breeze outside."

Madge looked out her wind to the heavy winds and pouring rain, then turned back to him to frown.

"I, I-" Madge began.

"Like to stutter?" Gale shot back. "Eloquence is obviously not one of your strong suits."

"Funny, I didn't even know you knew the word eloquence."

"I don't." His mouth widened into a huge grin.

Madge stared at him blankly. "You're an idiot."

"We live in District 12."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, I figured we were talking about obvious things. I was about to point out that my name is Gale and your name is Madge. I guess the game is over," he arched his eyebrows smugly.

"You…you…" Madge threw her hands in the air and scrambled over to her couch, burying her face in a pillow.

"What happened, Margie?"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT."

"Fine. Whassamatter?" He ran all the words together and then slid down on the couch next to her with a large, lazy grin.

"You're infuriating, Galeworth." She put her face in her hands.

"There, there," Gale cooed in a faux-tender voice. "That's not very nice…You shouldn't say things like that to your best friend, you know."

Madge was truly at a loss for words. "What?"

"You mean we're not besties? We can't paint each other's nails and gossip about the hottest boy at the slag pile – oh wait, I forgot that I am the hottest boy at the slag pile."

"Narcissist."

"Party pooper."

"Ego-centric bastard."

"Prissy…priss."

"Oh, that's such a nice insult."

"Can you blame me? I'm one of these here common folks," he pretended to pick at his teeth with his fingers. "My vocabulary is limited."

She shoved him to the side. Of course, he didn't budge, considering that he weighed almost twice as much as she did.

"You're ridiculous," she murmured.

"I know," he planted a kiss on the top of her forehead.

A familiar warming tingle rushed throughout her body, and she resisted the urge to shiver. Gale wrapped his warm arms around her and gently pulled her closer until she was practically sitting on top of him.

"What are you doing?" She said, her eyes still closed, just in case this was a practical joke or a dream. She didn't want him to see her flitting blue eyes.

"What do you think I'm doing?"

Madge pondered the question. "Is that a trick question?"

He replied by tilting her head slightly towards him and kissing her. As she was lost in the muddled clouds of her own thoughts, she suddenly broke away.

"Why are you doing this?" She blurted out.

"Well, I've seen it all! A woman who doesn't want Gale Hawthorne!" Madge's eyes narrowed, and he smiled at her. "Well, I guess it has something to do with those two bozos yesterday."

He stopped, not willing to offer up any more information.

"And?" Madge pressed.

"Well. You know. I realized if anything happened to you, I'd care," he muttered gruffly. "I mean, almost care. You know what I mean?"

"No, Mr. Galeworth, I don't have any clue what you mean."

"Dammit, Undersee," he growled, "Are you going to make this difficult for me?"

"Maybe I want to make it difficult for you."

"Are you playing hard to get?"

"And if I am, is it any business of yours? Do you care? Do you want to get me? Do you get hard to get me?"

Gale laughed.

"You seriously have been spending way too much time with me, princess."

"Don't call me that," she said warningly as his arms went back around her. "Getcha hands offa me if you're going to call me princess."

"Fine, fine." Gale obliged. "You can be my queen, then. Queen Margaret-"

"Gale." Madge gave him a look.

"Fine, fine. Duchess?"

"No."

"My lady?"

"No."

"Hobo?"

"What?"

"Just making sure that you can say something besides no. Now, Undersee, is that all?" He gave her a look and she smiled.

"Yes, that's all."

"Good." He started kissing her again. This wasn't like the kisses before, that had been sloppy on purpose or light or even… dare she say it… cautious. This was pressing and warm, firm and gentle, and surprising even though she knew it was coming. She was kissing Gale Hawthorne.

I am kissing Madge Undersee.

If you had told Gale this three months ago, he probably would have laughed hysterically and then punched you in the jaw for being stupid. He couldn't believe it. He remembered that scared, timid little girl he had met just a few weeks ago in the forest. Her wriggling underneath the fence in the Meadow. The horrified look on her face as he skinned the rabbit. Being trapped with her in the forest, her heart beating quickly as she looked at him, waiting for him to come up with an escape route. Him coming by with the strawberries. Her not letting him into her room. Him coming to her near midnight. Her horrified but pleased face as she threw the window open. Her light footsteps as they treaded on the gravel of District 12. Those bastards trying to fuck with her. Her terrified face buried in his shirt. Showing up here. The way that her hair was always let loose, those blonde curls blowing in the wind. The way that her blue eyes shifted from side to side, like she was searching her mind for an answer and couldn't make direct eye contact with anyone until she figured out what she was looking for. The way that she laughed, airy and light. The sexier tone she took on whenever she volleyed his sarcasm back at him. The way that her finely-made clothing clung to her lithe body. Those three freckles she had at the nape of her neck, that he always noticed but never found as devilishly entrancing as he did right now.

As Gale started to kiss her neck, Madge found herself dumbstruck at the procession of events. From that one eventful day in the forest to now. She dreamily wondered what would happen next. Maybe they'd run off together, kiss and kiss and – stop right there. She blushed as she found herself going off into R-rated daydreams, and she shook her head.

"What happened?" Gale looked up at her. "Problems?"

"None."

"Good, because I wasn't stopping anyways."

He continued kissing up her neck.

Madge rolled her eyes at him and continued daydreaming. Maybe one day, she would convince him to take her to one of those town dances she had invented in his mind. They'd become rich and powerful one day, doing something. They could get married with her father's blessing, and have an elaborate Capitol wedding. They'd move to the Capitol and have little dark-haired children with gorgeous eyes. They could grow older together and never look back. They could-

The television suddenly flickered on with a vehement coloring, to the one and only channel allowed at this time of the year.

The two broke apart to look at the screen. It was Katniss. And Peeta. And Cato, the remarkably brutal tribute from another district. These odd-looking dogs were pouncing on him. The camera occasionally flashed up to Peeta, who was bleeding like mad, and Katniss, who was exhausted but still alive. The screams were awful. Cato was screaming and crying and begging for mercy. Madge winced. After a while, the cannon finally roared. There was a pause.

Finally, after a heart-wrenching moment, the announcer of the games officially declared that the previous rule, which would have allowed both Peeta and Katniss to come back home together, has been revoked.

Gale couldn't breathe,

Madge forgot how to move.

Silently, they watched the two pull the most defiant movement ever seen in the games, threatening to commit suicide so that one of them wouldn't be the winner. They dangled the nightlock above their open mouths, when the announcer hastily announced that the rule was back in place, that they are both winners. They could both live.

A scream was heard. Loud claps and hoots.

After dousing themselves with water to assure themselves that they weren't going to die, and checking to make sure that neither of them had eaten the nightlock, the screen went to Katniss screaming Peeta's name as they were both hauled off. The screen went black. In dark letters, the screen blinked:

Congratulations to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark,
The Victors of the 74
th Hunger Games.

Gale was immobile as a statue. "Katniss is alive," he mumbled under his breath.

"She is."

Madge couldn't resist peeking over at his white face, grim with concentration.

What now?