I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things
We can do the tango just for two
I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings
Be your Valentino just for you
Ooh love –Ooh lover boy
Whatcha you doin' tonight, hey boy—
Set my alarm, turn on my charm
That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy
-Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy (Queen)
I'll admit to being called 'lover boy' more than once before. I'm the whole shebang: flowers, romantic date nights, and good night kisses on the front doorstep.
So yes, it's a little weird when I'm being lover-boyed by my best friend. I'm being spooned by him, his slow sleeping breaths hot on my neck. Cato's arm is wrapped around my waist, dangerously close to my crotch. I'm surprised he's not hard. Every time I wriggle my butt around to check if he really doesn't have morning wood, I find that each time I'm just met with…what's usually there. How is he not hard?!
"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna have to bone you later. Lemme sleep." Cato lazily murmurs this into my ear, and then it all goes quiet again, his inhales and exhales seem to match up with the beat of my heart, his hand finds one of mine.
Lying on my side, bored, I stare off into his room. It's illuminated nicely with the wide window that conveniently faces east.
It's all so familiar: the white-wash walls, all of his trophies jumbled together on a shelf, a desk that's seldom used in the corner. And this is familiar too: us squished on his bed. We've slept over at each other's houses like this ever since we became friends, really. What's not familiar is the fact that we're both naked and pressed up against each other in a pretty stimulating position. His etched midriff is pressed against my back, and one of his arms, thickly roped with muscle, is draped over me. Fine, he can play the lover boy ,and I'd be happy to be coddled by him.
"Cato," I whisper, turning around in his protective hold on me. "I'm hungry. Can I go downstairs to eat something?" His eyes are still shut, hiding those amazing blue eyes of his. His lips are slightly parted, letting warm puffs of air onto my cheek.
Slowly, his eyes open. Strange, I've never noticed. His eyes look almost…cornflower-blue, and not so icy, when the sunlight shines on them from a certain angle.
"You can eat my dick if you want," he says lazily. That bastard. "It's a real, prime Vienna sausage." Although he's awake, his eyes look like they can't seem to focus on me. He's always a little loopy in the mornings.
Then, with an open mouth, he tries to go in for a kiss. One, hot, putrid blast of air is blown directly into my face.
"Ugh! Morning breath, you dumbass. Go brush your teeth before you kiss me or do anything else. And I will not be eating…never mind." Gruffly, I unwrap myself from him. Immediately, I notice the change in temperature and hurry to get my clothes on.
While my briefs are halfway up my legs, I hear Cato's slurred voice again. "Has anyone ever told you you have a cute butt?"
I freeze, turn and look at him. "No. Now turn around." He's propped up on his side, his head lazily supported by one arm. I'm aware that his gaze still lingers on me, or rather, my 'cute butt', as I bend over and put my undergarment on. Whatever. We've seen each other naked plenty of times; what's once more going to do? Then, I reach for my shirt and pants to fully dress myself. I try and concentrate on the view that's outside. The window faces the idyllic street, and I watch as a slow car passes by. An occasional runner puffs down the pavement.
"Peeta, please don't go."
Turning around, I find him huddled in a mass of blankets. He looks so small, his entire body being consumed by his comforter. Only his head and upper chest sticks out.
"I finally have you, and now you have to leave?" His lower lip trembles ever so slightly, and I can't even tell if he's acting.
Straightening up after finally slipping on my socks, I walk over to him and sit on the edge of his bed.
Cato's like a kid. His thick arms encircle my waist and pull me close to him. "Peeta, don't, please, please, please please please." He's practically crying into my shirt.
"I just want to see if there's anything to eat." Fondly, I run my fingers through his golden hair. "I'm going to be gone for only half an hour, at most."
Looking up to me and at last lifting his face out of my shirtfront, he peers at me with his lower lip sticking out. God, he knows I can't resist that. The pouting lip, eyes watery and all.
"Aww, is Cato-Wato going to cry?" I mimic him, my face now contorted into a puppy-dog fashion.
"It's not funny!" After letting out a disgruntled noise, he flips over and turns his back to me.
"Oh, come on Cato. I was joking. You're never this sensitive, you bastard. Why don't you get up too, and maybe we can go out to eat?" I place a hand on his shoulder and gently shake him, trying to see if he'll respond more kindly this time.
"I don't want to eat at the moment. There's a bed and a man I love very much, and I wish that man would get into this bed with me." Still, he's buried under the covers and he's not coming out.
"We can always romp later. However, I can't eat breakfast later. There is a window of time set aside for my meals, you know." I know I'm being a dick, but it's just so much fun making him squirm and edge around…
He doesn't respond.
"Cato." I nudge him on the shoulder. When I peer over the mass of blanket that encloses him, I see that he's fallen asleep again. His breathing is even and his face is pressed to the side of his pillow, eyes closed.
Huh.
Well, I run my hands through his incredibly soft hair before padding quietly downstairs. It's so quiet that all the appliances can be heard. Every exhale sounds like a gust of wind blowing by. I guess everyone's still asleep.
While walking over to my car, I think about what I'd like to eat. And then what I'd like to do for the day. Maybe guess when Cato will finally get up. I've slept over at his house multiple times, and on some days he wouldn't get out of his bed until two in the afternoon. Oh, Cato. It honestly surprises each time when he decides to get up early for once to go on a run or work out.
So where to then? As I start the car, I decide to go downtown and see whatever catches my eye. Saying one last internal bye to Cato, I back out and I'm on my way.
It's a short drive, and it's not before long until I see…Marvel's sports car? It's parked on the curb in front of some vegan, totally quiet, aromatic little restaurant. I notice a bunch of other cars too…
So of course, that's where I pull in. It's hard to find a decent parking spot, but I manage to park in a place all the way at the back. Wonder what Marvel's up to. The thing is, Marvel is a lean, mean, protein-processing machine. Vegan or vegetarian is not in his limited vocabulary. Curious, I walk up to the front door—a heavy, seasoned, beautifully carved piece of wood—and step in.
The first thing I notice is how dark the inside is, compared to the bright light of the morning outside. Then, the smell of something floral and woodsy. Totally hipster. Would not want to eat or hang out here.
There's Marvel in the corner. A plate of food sits in front of him, with only a bite or two taken out of it. And then there's a bunch of girls at that same table. Of course.
I mean, it's funny to see him at a place like this, but it's slightly disturbing seeing him in a place like this with a bunch of girls. What is he trying to do? Who are these people? They're all buxom girls, no doubt, since Marvel likes his girls 'well-padded', but why the vegan place? Whatever—that's the wrong question. What the hell is he doing here? And it's way too early for him to be up.
"Marv," I call out as I walk over to him. Four different heads turn to look at me; it's three girls, then Marvel. "What're you playing at?" Trying to say this jokingly, I give him my best devilish smile.
"What do you mean? Just enjoying some food and some nice girls." He shoots me an equally playful smile, with a glint in his eyes.
As I take a seat directly across from him and his company, I take a look at the three women. One of them is blonde, the other two are brunettes. The blonde has an eyebrow piercing—that's one of the first things that I notice about her. What also strikes me are her dimples when she gives me a smile.
The more ample-chested brunette is obviously giving me a once over.
"Marvy, why don't you introduce us?" The girl on his right, the blonde, says this with a syrupy voice and puckered lips.
"Alright. This is..."
I completely blank out on him as I notice Katniss walking in.
Her hair is beautifully swept back, and she's wearing her brown leather jacket. She seems to be picking up some kind order, when she notices me.
"Peeta! Hi," she says, greeting me in a surprisingly enthusiastic way. "How're you doing?"
I turn away from Marvel to face her. "I'm good. You? It's nice seeing you around here." I give her a small, tight-lipped smile.
"I'm good, I'm good." A few moments of silence pass between us, her standing in front of me, holding a brown paper bag in her arms. Some more people start to come into the tiny restaurant. I can hear Marvel say something behind me and the girls laughing.
"How've you been then? Any plans for this, um, coming winter?" Inclining her head towards me, she gives me a smile. Winter is still a month off, but she's just trying to make some friendly conversation.
"No, not really. I'm probably just going to go somewhere with Cato and his family. You?" Inching towards the door, Katniss starts to respond.
"I'm probably just going to stick around the archery range, as usual."
Following her to the door, I'm about to say something when—
"Peeta? You in he—"
We make eye contact. What's usually an intimate spark between our blue eyes turns into something more sinister. Cato sees me. He sees Katniss. Then Marvel and his gaggle of girls. My chest clenches up and for a moment I can't breathe. Oh god.
"You're coming with me." He grabs my arm and pulls me out the door. I give Katniss one more smile, and she gives me an uneasy wave as I'm violently lurched outside.
He's still pulling me to the back parking lot, where it's thankfully, completely vacant of people.
"What the fuck, Peeta? I thought you were just going out to get something to eat, I look for you, and then you're out on a fucking date with Katniss?" His face is turning slightly pink and his eyes are more icy than usual. And if he were any louder, I'm sure the people on the sidewalks would hear us, and I'd have to tell him to tone it down.
"I wasn't on a date with Katniss," I say evenly. "I saw Marvel, went in, and then Katniss came. That's all. And we were just talking." I put a hand on his arm, to reassure him that...what? I still enjoy touching him, and feeling his soft skin meet mine?
"I don't care. I don't care, I just want you to stop fucking talking to her." He pulls away from me and...I'm hurt.
"Just because we're in a relationship doesn't mean I have to cut off all female contact. Fuck you, Cato. You have to have more faith in me than that." I turn away from him, starting to walk towards my truck.
I hear him mutter something behind me. "God dammit. Peeta, you've no idea..."
There's a quick patter of footsteps, and he's grabbing my shirt.
I turn to face him, and I'm surprised to see that his eyes look shimmery and the bridge of his nose is starting to pink up. "Peeta, you don't understand how hard it is to know that you're around girls like Katniss, because I know I don't stand a chance against them. They're female, I'm not, and you're a straight guy."
And he's crying. Shit. He's so adorable.
"I just don't know if you—"
"Shhh, Cato, please. I'm yours and you're mine. I'm sorry." I pull him close to me and run my hands up and down his back. I love feeling him under my hands. Not to be cocky or anything, but it's hard to find a guy who has a sturdier build than me.
When he pulls away after a few moments, his tears have all disappeared. "That never happened; I never cried," he says, with a laugh. His eyes are still red and there's still a little sob in his chuckle.
Then, in the middle of the parking lot, he kisses me. It's so novel and exhilarating all over again. We're openly kissing in public, even though there might not be too many people around to see it. His lips are hot from crying, and he's holding me around the waist. His hands reach up to run through my hair and cradle my jaw, and I'll admit that it feels nice. He smells so good too, that I can't help but keep on inhaling, over and over again. My mouth feels like it's on fire, and his soft moans are reverberating between our lips.
When we break apart, we're both panting. His lips are swollen and mine probably are too. There's a connection between us that says, if we don't get home soon enough, we'll have to fuck in someone's car.
We're about to go in for another 'kiss' when we see it.
Just out of the corner of my eye, there's Marvel and Katniss, staring at us. Katniss' mouth is wide open, and Marvel is staring at us underneath hooded eyes. How long have they been there like that?
"Holy. Shit."