Thanks so much to ForeverTeamEdward13, martatheinvisiblegal, MissVolturiKingsfan, Mely-the-Mockingjay, Ro-Lee, Queen-Maggie-pevensie, FwuffyUnicorn, vampluver19, dleshae, Randommmfanatic, Oakenstorm, theotherpianist, and Scarlette Winter for reviewing!
Rhiannon: Clove has become a huge fan favorite, which I found surprising since of the four Careers, she's the one with the least development and screen time, but hey, I like her a lot too. :) Yes, I do update! My beta is my real life best friend and she metaphorically breathes down my neck to make sure this fic stays on my radar, no matter what Real Life is throwing at me. I'm glad you found this story again, and thank you for reading and reviewing!
Guest: Sometimes I pat myself on the back for NOT writing a messed up sibling relationship between Ash and Rain. That was on the books for a while before I decided the poor babies had been through enough. As for Marvel, by the time they get to Thirteen will he want them to fix his scars, if they even can? Not sure. I have not written the whole fic-I have the big plot points all mapped out and a few fun details here and there, but that's it. I used to have a policy of writing three chapters ahead of my updates so I know what's happening in the near future and so I have a little cushion in case I have no time to write. Unfortunately, I only have two chapters written out after this one, so future updates after that one goes up might be up in the air while I get Real Life sorted. I'll have more details at the end. Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Twenty-Nine:
I watch with apprehension as Clove gleefully draws the first card. Not long ago, as she rattled off the rules that accompany each card number, I became more and more certain that she—and everyone else in the circle, most likely—was absolutely planning on appropriating the game as a means of interfering with Cato and me. Why Clove of all people is joining the rest of the busybodies, I don't know. For all she complained earlier about our problems affecting everyone else, I'm sure she could ignore us if she really wanted to.
Clove throws down her card. A two. Two is You. You ask somebody, anybody, in the circle a question. If they don't answer, they drink. She turns her semi-savage grin to the player on her left: Cato. Well, at least it's not me. But I'm willing to bet that whatever Clove asks Cato will still have to do with me somehow.
"So," she begins with relish, "why have you been so mopey lately?"
And behold.
Before I realize what I'm doing, I exchange an irritated glance with Cato. Like me, he's irked by Clove and the others prying into personal business. I wonder if he's been equally pestered by them as I have in the last few days. Suddenly, I realize what I'm doing and hastily look away.
"You guys really want to know?" Cato asks, and everyone in the circle unconsciously leans forward. I suppress a sigh and brace myself for criticism on how I'm too quick to jump to conclusions and put words in his mouth. It wouldn't be wholly undeserved.
To everyone's surprise, Cato reaches forward and grabs the flask from the center. "Aw, come on!" Marvel complains as Clove huffs.
Cato gives them both the finger as he takes a swig. Disgust washes over his face. "Ugh. 'It's not bad,' Clove? What low standards are you working with?"
"Well, of course it's not going to meet your hoity-toity palate's expectations," Clove snarks as Cato tosses the flask back into the middle.
"I think I might be going blind from that."
"Quit complaining." Clove jabs her thumb toward Thresh, on her right. "Your turn."
As Thresh selects his card, I find myself hoping that he won't target me like the others. Him and Vidal. And Cato isn't eager to air all our dirty laundry, either. My skin crawls at the thought of even sniffing the contents of that flask, and I don't want to have to be a spoilsport if I refuse to comply with the game's rules because I don't like the questions people are asking.
My hopes for Thresh's kindness are beaten to the ground when he reveals his card and immediately looks at me. Ten is Word Association, or rather, Name Association. The player picks someone else to respond, and they randomly list the names of everyone in the game one at a time. After each name, the responder has to say the first thing that comes to mind when each name is spoken, and the original player immediately follows up with the next name. If the responder doesn't answer or takes too long, they drink.
"Ember," Thresh announces, and this time I don't hold in my sigh. He doesn't waste any time before he begins. "Glimmer."
"Tough."
"Clove."
"Bear."
"Marvel."
"Too chatty." ("Hey!")
"Finch."
"Not chatty."
"Thresh."
"Even less chatty."
"Vidal."
"Trust."
"Cato."
"Hurt." I clamp down on my mouth, but the damage is done. I determinedly ignore Cato's stare as I concentrate on preventing my face from turning red.
"Alright, my turn," Glimmer declares, drawing away everyone's attention. She picks up the closest card: five. Five is Guys. Player asks all the guys in the game a question, and they all have to answer. Otherwise, they drink. Glimmer considers it for a moment before asking, "What's your ideal partner like?"
I stifle a groan.
Marvel goes first. "Very smart girl. Someone who'll tell me when I'm being too chatty." The last part is spoken with a glower in my direction. I smirk. "But also someone I can have meaningful conversations with. And a secret mischievous side."
Finch's face is rapidly turning the same color as her hair.
After a moment, Thresh volunteers. "Honest. Kind. Hard-working. Stands up for others. Strong sense of integrity."
"Thinking of anyone from back home in particular?" Marvel teases.
"That wasn't the question," Thresh responds curtly.
Vidal scratches the back of his neck. "Uh. A good heart, and, um...uh…" He sighs. "Ah, fuck it. You've all already met Javi."
I knew it! I nudge Vidal, who's sitting beside me. "So that's your answer? Just 'Javi'? No further explanation? He's that ideal?"
He grins sheepishly. "I mean, ever since I realized that I prefer boys, I've never wanted anyone else. So yeah, I guess he is."
"And how does he feel?" Glimmer asks curiously. "If you don't mind my asking."
"Oh, he liked me first. He was just waiting for me to catch up, hehe." Vidal's smile fades a little. "We can't do much about it, though. Most people in Ten don't think boys should like boys. But we've dealt with it so far." He turns to Marvel and Finch. "I never thanked you guys properly for what you did, going with the bandits because they had Javi. If something had happened to him, I… I don't know what I would've done."
"He helped us first," Finch answers, a little pink from the attention.
"Javi's a good guy. Of course we had to help." Marvel leans around Finch to pat Vidal's back. "No thanks necessary."
"But still, it's because they grabbed Javi that they...well, got you."
Marvel hesitates, then shrugs as he unconsciously leans toward Finch. "To be honest, now that you've reminded me what could have happened to Javi if we didn't go with, I don't mind the scars as much. Everything that led up to that point happened for good reasons. You know what I mean?"
Vidal is smiling again. "Yeah. I think I do."
We all indulge in the feeling of warm, fuzzy companionship for a moment. Then Glimmer reminds us, "We're still waiting on one person."
All heads turn toward Cato. Is he going to drink again? The thought of it makes me feel a little hurt, if he would rather drink gross moonshine than say anything. But I don't know if I even have the right to complain about such things anymore.
Cato is visibly contemplating the flask. But in the end, he answers Glimmer's question. "Someone who doesn't mind dumping ice cream on her brother on national television."* Then he sits back, indicating he's done talking.
The others look confused, but I'm currently being wracked by the faint memory of toddler me smearing an ice cream cone all over Ashton. Was that on camera? It must have been, if Cato knows about it. He really wasn't kidding when he said he saw me on TV growing up. And he remembers something as silly as that.
Glimmer pokes me, jolting me out of my thoughts. "Ember, your turn."
Ah! Maybe I can finally put an end to this run of Ember-and-Cato targeted questions. I pick a card. Jack. J is Never Have I Ever. Everyone holds up five fingers and goes around saying things they've never done until someone puts down all their fingers. Losers drink. Our hands all go up. I chew on my lip as I think. "Never have I ever...played a drinking game before today."
Everyone except Finch puts down a finger. Vidal, who's on my right, goes next. "Never have I ever…saved someone's life."
Wow. That escalated quickly.
"That should be all of you," Vidal declares. "Mutts, fire-bombs, Alasdar's traps, Javi. Fingers down, all of you."
"But not you?" Clove challenges.
Vidal gestures at his crippled leg. "I don't usually have the opportunity. Not like you." He points at me. "You hauled me out of the water when that mutt bit me." He points at Finch. "Pretty sure you've saved us all from dying of infection at one point or another." He points at Cato. "We'd all be burnt to a crisp if it weren't for you." Vidal grins. "Come on, don't be modest. Fingers down."
Glimmer sighs. "We're all such goddamn noble heroes." She puts her finger down. The rest of us follow suit.
It's Finch's turn next. Avoiding my gaze, she says, "Never have I ever prolonged a disagreement by refusing to talk to the other person about it."
Oh. Okay. Fine. You're going to be that way. I put down my finger. So do Glimmer, Marvel, and Vidal. So does Cato. No one is looking directly at either of us, but I still feel like they're watching Cato and me for a reaction. But his expression is like stone, and I do my best to look bored, although I don't know if it fools anyone.
Marvel's up. He rubs his hands together. "Never. Have. I. Ever...gotten kneed in the crotch by Ember Abernathy."
Snort and sputters erupt around the circle, then explode into uproarious laughter as Cato, with a death glare directed at Marvel, puts down his finger. I clap my hands over my mouth as I recall the instance Marvel is referring to, back in the Training Center when Cato decided a civilized conversation consisted of dragging me into an elevator.
"When was this?" Glimmer demands incredulously in between snickers.
"Training Center," Cato mutters.
The words "You deserved it" fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. Cue more laughter.
Cato is glowering at me now, although not with as much poison as he glares at Marvel. At last, he relents, a wry half-smile on his lips. "Yeah. I kind of did." Then he cracks his knuckles. "My turn. Never have I ever lived in District 1."
Marvel and Glimmer immediately stop laughing and scowl at him. "Come on, that's way too obvious," Marvel complains.
"Suck it up, Chatty."
After some more grumbling, Marvel and Glimmer finally put down their fingers. They and Cato are now all tied at four fingers. One more and they're out. Finch is currently winning—not that this game really has a winner—with only one finger down.
Clove decides to rectify that, opting to prolong the round a little longer in favor of targeting Finch. She's next, and without missing a beat, she announces, "Never have I ever read a medical textbook of my own free will."
Finch narrows her eyes, but she puts her finger down. She's the only one.
Thresh mulls over what he's going to say, then: "Never have I ever regretted a relationship with anyone in this circle."
I immediately look over at Cato, who's also looking back at me. Neither of us has put a finger down. No one else has either, but seeing that Cato's fifth finger is still up makes a mysterious tension in my chest ease up. I regret nothing about meeting Cato, getting to know Cato, starting a whatever-this-is with Cato. And I am relieved beyond measure to know he feels the same.
No one puts a finger down, but Thresh doesn't seem disappointed in the least. And then it's Glimmer's turn. I wonder if she plans to finally end this round of Never Have I Ever. She looks thoughtful, and then slowly, she says, "Never have I ever fallen in love."
Silence falls over the group. I'm not the only one staring at Glimmer. That's what she picks?
"Glimmer," Vidal says quietly, "don't you think that's a bit difficult to answer?"
"It's yes or no, isn't it?"
Vidal shakes his head. "You could say love is like a spectrum. You don't always clearly fall on one side or the other. Besides, it's not really fair to make someone declare definitively that they're in love in front of everyone, don't you think?"
"...You have a point," Glimmer allows. "I guess I could pick something else."
"Forget it," Clove interrupts. "Let's move on with the rest of the game. I say that everyone with four fingers down should assume they would've been taken out with Glimmer's last question—except Glimmer, obviously—and take a shot."
Cato and Marvel are the only ones to whom Clove's decree applies. After the rest of us murmur agreement with her, the two boys share a look and shrug. Cato gestures for Marvel to go first.
Stoically and dramatically, Marvel raises the flask and sips. He manages to keep a straight face for a few seconds, but in the end he cracks. "Gah! You were right, Cato, that's nasty shit." He passes the flask.
Cato mockingly toasts with the metal container before drinking. With a grimace, he puts the flask back in the middle. "Okay, whose turn is it now?"
"Vidal," I answer.
Vidal hums contemplatively as his hands hover over several cards. "Mmm...I like this one." He plucks it. Ace. A is All. Player asks everyone a simple question—that is, a question with a simple answer, no more than a few words—and everyone goes around the circle with their answer. You don't answer, you drink. He grins. "I know! Who do you think is the most attractive person in this circle?"
Glimmer snorts. "You can ask that but I can't ask my question?"
"Saying you find someone attractive is much different than saying you've been or are in love," Vidal retorts. "Case in point: my answer is Marvel."
"Aw, shucks," the boy in question responds, laughing. "You're making me blush."
Whereas Marvel is joking, Finch is actually blushing. She mumbles her answer, and Marvel leans in, a huge grin on his face.
"What's that? I couldn't hear and I'm right next to you! How do you expect everyone else—"
Finch makes a wordless noise of frustration and elbows him. "I'm not saying it again."
Glimmer smirks. "I think we all know what her answer is anyway."
Marvel leans back to rest his elbows on the ground. "Who do I think is the most attractive in this game? Well, obviously, my answer is...me."
The circle erupts into mocking jeers, with insults like "peacock" and other accusations of narcissism flying his way. Clove actually throws her shoe at him.
"Rude." Marvel throws it back at its owner. As the din dies down, I observe Marvel whispering something in Finch's ear, which makes her turn red for the twentieth time tonight. But probably not as red as she would've been if he said what I suspect he whispered—his real answer—out loud to the whole circle. "Alright, Cato," Marvel says more loudly, "declare yourself."
For some reason, I feel my something catching in my throat as Cato sighs in exasperation. "Call me crazy, but it's got to be the girl who kneed me in the crotch at the Training Center."
Laughter explodes. Even I crack a grin, as my mind absorbs Cato's answer. "You masochist!" Marvel crows. "I knew it!"
"I am not, and like hell you 'knew' anything," Cato shoots back.
"Clove! What do you think you're doing?" Glimmer's exclamation seizes everyone's attention, and we all turn to catch Clove in the middle of unscrewing the flask.
"You want to make me choose which one of you ugly fuckers is least ugly? I'll pass on that headache," Clove scoffs as she swigs from the flask, and everyone's jeers and indignation are redirected toward her instead.
When the furor dies down, we turn to Thresh. His shoulders rise slightly in what might be a half-hearted shrug. "Objectively speaking, Glimmer."
"Thank you." Glimmer preens. "As for me, also objectively speaking, I'd have to say Ember."
"Me?" I point at myself.
"No, the other Ember playing this game." She nudges me. "Now you go."
"Ah." Well, what else can I say? Whatever might be happening between us right now, there is only one true answer. "Cato."
"Eh. No surprise there," Marvel remarks, and a murmur of agreement ripples across the circle.
I peek over at Cato. His eyes flicker toward me as well, and a faint smile alights on his face. I feel my lips curving up slightly too.
Finch grabs a card. "Seven," she states, putting it down. Seven is Reckon. The player gives a seven-word hint about a person in the game, and the others try to "reckon" who it is. If someone guesses within seven seconds, the original player drinks. If no one gets it, those who guessed incorrectly have to drink.
Of course Finch would get the riddle card. The sight of her ghost smile—nay, poltergeist smile, alerts me to the likelihood she's going to be joining the target-Ember-and-Cato game again. I don't even feel indignant anymore, just exasperated. After a moment of contemplation, Finch announces her hint. "Lovelorn but too prideful to change that."
Glimmer and Marvel pounce. "Ember!" "Cato!" Their shouts jumble over one another, but their words are clear.
Finch's poltergeist smile flickers again. "True...but not the answer I was thinking of."
Huh? My confused reaction is mirrored on everyone else's faces. Whom else could she be talking about? The seconds trickle away as we try and fail to puzzle it out.
"Time's up," Finch declares softly, looking a tad smug.
Marvel passes the flask to Glimmer. "Ladies first."
She wrinkles her nose but dutifully takes the requisite drink, as does Marvel after her.
"So who were you thinking of?" Vidal asks Finch.
"Not my secret to tell." Before we can continue to pester her for an answer, or to figure it out for ourselves, she quickly passes the baton. "Marvel's turn."
"Yeah, it is." But for all his eagerness, he hems and haws over his selection, until Clove threatens to pick a card for him. Then he quickly swipes the one nearest his hand. "Queen!" Q is Quiz. The original player quizzes somebody else—just one question—on a third person. If the quizzee gets it right, the first player drinks. If the quizzee gets it wrong, they drink.
I'm not surprised when Marvel turns his toothy grin on me.
"Emmmbeeeer," he drawls. "You ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Although it's me to whom Marvel speaks, it's Cato he looks at meaningfully when he asks, "What does Cato like the most about you?"
A hush falls over the group, swollen with anticipation. I stare at Marvel, aghast. This question might be even worse than Glimmer's. It's not exactly something I ponder over in my downtime. Hmmm, let's see, what's Cato's favorite thing about me? Let me list the possibilities. I have my vain moments, but not to that extent.
My brain freezes, refusing to resolve Marvel's query. What does Cato like the most? About me? What… What… What… Should I play it off, give some stupid, silly answer, like "my superior ability to knee people in the crotch"? It's already starting to become a running joke. I could keep it going.
But I keep wondering about it. What does he like the most about me? What? What? What? My desire to know the answer burns. I cast my mind to every conversation with Cato that I can easily remember, but none of them provide any hints about what might be Cato's favorite thing about me. The more I mull over them, the more I identify the things I like the most about him, but that's not the question being posed right now. Maybe I'm looking at the wrong source material. I'm certain that Cato has never said to me anything along the lines of "this is what I like the most about you." He's told me things that he likes in general about me, but not the most. Maybe I shouldn't be thinking about things Cato has said, but what other people have said.
Ced's face appears in my mind's eye, and I can almost hear snippets of what he said shortly after he decided he didn't dislike Cato anymore. He's not so bad, I guess. Don't be too mean to him. He looks at you a lot.
He likes your smile, apparently.
It's as good a guess as any, and something that I can say without feeling too embarrassed or banal. "Ced mentioned once that y—that Cato, um...really likes my smile." My voice steadily falls in volume, and the last word is nearly a whisper. But everyone is so keen to hear my answer that I'm sure it was plenty audible.
Heads swivel to stare at Cato, for confirmation or for denial.
He's resting his chin on his hand, looking contemplative. "That's a really good answer. And...it is one of my favorite things about you. But not the favorite."
Everyone in the circle sits back, almost simultaneously, lingering over Cato's response. I'm no different. So, he does like my smile. A lot. But evidently he likes something even more.
"So…" Marvel looks uncertain. "The rule is that you're supposed to drink if you answer incorrectly, but you said earlier...you know."
I eye the flask with no little amount of distaste. Not just because of its apparently nasty taste, but because of the fact that it's alcoholic at all. The perils of alcohol are known all too well among my family.
"Give me that." Cato's hand whips toward the middle, and without ceremony, he takes my penalty for me. His third drink of the night and more than anyone else; Marvel's only had two. When he realizes we're all gaping at him, he scowls. "It was fine when Marvel offered to do it for Finch. I see no difference." He casts the flask away. "My turn now, right? Everyone will have gone once I'm done. I say we stop after me."
Clove, who has apparently declared herself the boss of everybody for tonight, shrugs. "Fine with me."
"We've been playing for a while, and it's getting late," I add. "It also won't be pretty if someone ends up drinking too much."
"Okay, Mom," Marvel shoots at me, but in the end we all agree to stop after Cato's turn.
Tiredly, Cato reaches out for the nearest card and flips it over to show us all without looking at it first. Six. Six is Kiss. You kiss somebody in the game, or you drink. Simple.
No one speaks. Not to crack a joke, not to make an insinuating remark, nothing. Cato stares at the card for several moments. I can practically imagine what's going through his head: Of course it'd be this card. Of course it'd be on my turn. Of course it'd be the last one of the night.
I can see his eyes flickering toward the flask, considering whether that would be the easier option. But I catch his attention, and ever so slightly, I shake my head no. Maybe I'm being overbearing, but I think he's had enough of that moonshine today. And he's made it clear that he doesn't like it.
It's okay, Cato.
He holds my gaze, and then he stands up. Six pairs of eyes are rapt with attention as he crosses the short distance across the circle. Cato kneels in front of me, and his hands edge toward mine, as if to take them, before he remembers himself and stops. I wish he didn't. Then, eyes never leaving mine until the last possible moment, he bows his head and presses a chaste kiss on my forehead.
"Game over," he says quietly, our gazes meeting again.
Neither of us reacts to the flurry of motion around us, as the others pick up the cards and hike back to the main camp. Nobody stops to speak to us, as if they all know how important it is to leave us alone right now.
My skin still tingles where his lips just touched. The longer we continue to stare at each other, the more my anxiety builds, but I don't try to break that tenuous contact just yet. Cato speaks first. "Can we move a few yards over, just far enough so no one can hear us?"
I nod. He gets to his feet then offers me a hand to help me up. He doesn't let go as we place a little more distance between us and everyone else, and the darkness shields us from any curious eyes.
We stand there, neither of us speaking a word. This time, it's my turn to break the silence, and, as I look down at my feet, I unintentionally echo his words from several days ago, when we were in the ravine. "I've missed you."
My words are met with no response. My heart picks up its pace, blood rushing through my veins. Silence. What does that mean? Am I… Are we too late? Has he changed his mind? Did I read him wrong? I'm almost afraid to look up, in case his expression is one of stony disinterest, but I muster my resolve. Fortune favors the bold and all that. My eyes flicker upward.
There is a small but sincere smile gracing Cato's mouth, and even in the darkness I can just make out the warmth in his usually icy and hard eyes. "Glad I wasn't the only one," he says softly. Then he opens his arms.
I dart into them as I try not to drown in my relief and elation. His arms encircle me as I wrap mine around his waist, and my cheek rediscovers its resting place against his chest. There's light, warm pressure on the top of my head as Cato kisses it. "Why did we even fight in the first place?" I whisper.
"It's inevitable when you have two tempers like ours."
I laugh quietly. "You're right." I snuggle closer. "I really don't want to ruin this moment. But we have to talk about it, don't we?"
"We should." He rubs a small circle on my back once, and then we step back and find a relatively comfortable patch of ground to sit on. We sit with our legs crossed, facing each other and close enough that our knees almost touch.
"I was unfair toward you," I begin. "I shouldn't have gone off on you for words you never said."
"You had a point, though," Cato concedes. "I did feel that you were being a little too eager to trust again. And it turns out Javi was all right, after all."
"We didn't know that at the time."
"We had Vidal's word for it. You were right, it's different when you have someone in person to speak up on Javi's behalf."
"But…" I try to find the right words. "Even if you did think and feel those things you said, you didn't actually say them. You're entitled to think whatever you want. I shouldn't have gotten mad because I didn't like what you may or may not have felt."
"Ember." Cato exhales. "I've been kicking myself for how I've handled things. I reacted so adversely to Javi in the beginning because I was worried about how he might hurt you, hurt the pack, and I didn't trust your judgment because I was still stuck on what happened with Alasdar. I thought you were being too trusting again, even though I should've known that you would have been the opposite, after everything. When we started to argue, I failed to explain that the issue was less you trusting someone and more me afraid that someone else would take advantage of that trust again. And in the days that followed, I couldn't humble myself enough to talk to you and admit—"
"Hey," I interject gently, "don't take all the blame for us not talking. I'm at fault for at least half, you know."
Cato's eyes look a little sad. "In the ravine, right before we heard the mockingjays. We fought about Alasdar's death. Do you still have nightmares because of what I did?
I inhale sharply. "The nightmares have been getting worse since we fought," I admit. "But I don't think it's because of what Clove told me. I think it's because you haven't been there. Whether or not they feature anything as a result of my talk with Clove is unimportant. As long as… As long as you come back."
Suddenly, I feel myself being lifted off the ground and pulled against Cato as he embraces me again. "I always come back," he murmurs.
I burrow my face against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, bliss coursing through my body. "Am I going to have to thank Clove and the others for how utterly happy I feel right now?"
He scoffs and gathers me closer. "We would've figured things out on our own. They just sped the process up."
My thoughts loop back to the events of the game. In particular, the last turn before Cato's. "So what was the right answer?"
"Hm?" Cato seems preoccupied by playing with my hair.
"The thing you like most about me."
"Ah." He pulls back so he can look me in the eye, but mere inches separate us. "You would never have guessed correctly. It took hours of thinking—usually while we're walking—to figure it out for myself."
"Hours of thinking? You exaggerate."
"No, I think about you a lot." He grins rakishly as I try not to blush. "You really want to know the answer?" I nod firmly. His hand rises so his thumb and gently rub circles against my cheek. "My favorite thing about you...is that you remind me. You remind me that I'm more than what they expect me to be: the Academy, my district, my father. You remind me that I'm the master of my own fate. You remind me that I decide my own life and future. And I've decided...that the only life and future I want are the ones that have you in them." I am unable to look away as he stares intently at me, the circling of his thumb gradually slowing. "While we're talking about the game, I might as well answer Glimmer's question, huh? If I've ever been in love?" His breath ghosts across my cheek, where his thumb just was. "Vidal was right when he said it's not a simple yes-or-no question. Because my answer is that if I'm not already in love with you, I'm bound to be the next time I see that smile of yours that I like so much."
My heart does gymnastics in my ribcage. As his words register, my delight cannot be contained and diffuses into my face.
"There it is," he whispers. "Hook, line, and sinker."
"Just like that? You love me?"
His smile is almost shy. "Honestly, I've probably been in love with you for some time and just never realized it. But yeah. I love you."
I feel almost transcendent in my happiness. I wouldn't be surprised if Cato told me I were glowing right now. "Good. Glad I'm not the only one." I lean in so my lips graze against his ear. "I love you too." And then I turn his head so that my lips are against his.
Cato reacts with ferocity, and dimly, somewhere in my mind, it occurs to me that this is our first real kiss in a long time. We haven't kissed like this since before Alasdar, and we hadn't been doing it for long. Hot mouths, roaming hands, the sensation is at once familiar and novel.
And oh so very good.
But my inner parent-of-the-group refuses to allow me to forget myself for long. Somehow, in between kisses, I manage to get out a few coherent words. "If—we—mm—stay out for—ah—much longer, th-the others are...mmm…"
"Don't care about the others," Cato mutters against my neck.
"I'd rather not have to endure wisecracks from Marvel or knowing looks from Glimmer and Clove for the next week and a half."
He sighs, head dropping to rest on my shoulder. "Yeah, that's probably going to happen, huh?" His finger traces my arm from shoulder to wrist, leaving a burning trail. "It's better if we stop now, anyway."
I smirk. "Do you still miss me?"
"I miss you every time I have to turn my back on you." He claims one last kiss, and then we force ourselves to get up. As we walk back to the main camp, my hand easily slides into his, and he unhesitatingly interlaces our fingers. It's almost as if we never stopped.
Most people are in their sleeping bags now, except the two on watch. Cedric is snoozing away in the middle of his horde of friends—so different from when we were in Twelve, and he had practically none—so when I fetch my sleeping bag, I don't go anywhere near him. Instead, I lay it down beside Cato, and once we're both tucked in, he pulls me in close, where my ear is pressed against his beating heart.
A moment later, I find out that although almost everyone is in their sleeping bags, it doesn't necessarily mean everyone is asleep, because Clove's hushed voice carries over to us. "You two better not fight again because I won't be as nice next time."
Cato and I stifle our laughter. Then I sigh in contentment and close my eyes, to the sensation of his fingers stroking my hair. I don't think I'll have nightmares tonight.
*For more on the ice cream incident that Cato mentioned, see my other fic Unwritten Hearts.
So some sad news. As of this posting, I only have two more chapters written after this. If I don't find the time to write more chapters after those two are posted, I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep updating reliably. :( It's been nearly impossible to find time this semester to work on this fic, inspiration is starting to run low, and TBH, I'm trying to get back into writing some original work. Hopefully during the upcoming breaks I'll be able to get some more chapters of Sweetest Mockery ready for future postings, but we'll have to see…
But now some good news! The one year anniversary of Sweetest Mockery (from its revival last year, not the original publication date) is coming up, on November 23. I'm planning a little surprise for fans of the Sweetest Mockery-verse, so keep an eye for any new fics I may be publishing around that date! That fic is going to be VERY open to reader suggestions, and I'm hoping that working on that will jumpstart my muse for Sweetest Mockery as well. :)
As usual, if you submit a review within a week of this update, you get a preview of the next chapter. Thanks for reading!
