Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
AN: Not terribly happy with this, but I'm trying to write again since I've found myself with a lot of time and not a lot of mobility. This is for a prompt I received and hopefully didn't bungle too badly...I probably did. I'm sorry. I'll try harder next time.
Withholding Judgment
Madge shouldn't be such a good friend.
She mentally slaps herself for that thought as Katniss downs another shot of some awful looking drink, drizzling a healthy portion down her front.
It isn't really Katniss' fault, it's that awful Johanna.
They'd all finished their finals, with the sad exception of Peeta, who still had one last paper to turn in that he was frantically typing when they'd last seen him hunched over his computer in a dark corner of the library.
Peeta's absence is what started this whole mess.
"Well seeing as it's just us girls, I say we go to Odair's," Johanna suggested when she'd turned up in their dorm room a few hours ago, already smelling a little like a bar.
Madge had tried to shake that thought off. It was judgmental and she was trying to be less so this semester. Johanna made that commitment hard though.
"That skeevy dive bar?" Katniss had looked skeptical. "I'll save money and drink at here."
Johanna had rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a drag, Cat piss. We're going for the atmosphere." She'd grinned. "Besides, Thursday nights are ladies nights. Half priced everything."
The possibility of cheap drinks was all the news Katniss needed to get her in the car.
"What about you, Undershirt? Coming for a fun night, or are you too prude?"
Madge didn't mind being called prude by Johanna, it was practically her nickname at this point, but she didn't like the idea of Katniss being out at the bars with her so-called friend without some kind of supervision. Johanna had poor judgement, and after a few drinks, Katniss' will was easily molded. Two trips to lock-up for drunk and disorderly that Madge had bailed her out of made it abundantly clear that Katniss didn't need to spend time alone at a bar with Johanna.
"Having good sense doesn't make someone prude," Madge tells her, crossing her arms.
"You don't have good sense, you've got a saint complex." Johanna smirked. "So what is it Undershirt? Crawling out of that ivory tower or not?"
Against her better judgement, and out of a misguided sense of duty to Katniss and Peeta, Madge had gotten in the car, behind the wheel. She wasn't so sure Johanna hadn't already knocked back a few shots before coming to terrorize their dorm room.
So much for being less judgmental.
They hadn't started the night at Odair's.
First had come a shady dive bar that smelled a bit like urine and had sticky floors. It was unsanitary incarnate.
The next bar was just as bad, and played music that had to have come from a poorly scored B-movie.
"We're going to die in one of these places," Madge had muttered to Katniss.
"You watch too much Dateline," Johanna had cut in, taking another drink from the bar. "The world isn't out to get you."
Maybe not, but that didn't mean they weren't flirting with danger.
It was well after midnight before they finally made it to Odair's, and the parking lot was a nightmare. Madge ended up parking down the road, ignoring Johanna's orders to park in front of a fire hydrant.
"You parked a mile away!"
"It's two blocks." It was hardly going to kill her.
"For someone terrified of being mugged at every turn you sure do stick to the rules."
"I'll take a mugging over getting people killed in a fire."
Johanna was hardly impressed with her altruism, choosing to grumble as she pulled Katniss along toward the bar.
It was the least impressive stop they'd made yet, and Madge didn't see what all the fuss was about.
Odair's looked like it had seen it's better days during the Carter administration. The neon night had burned out, leaving it a patchy mess over the doorway and the lone security light seemed to be focused solely on an overflowing dumpster. At the door, which was peeling it's red paint off in chunks, a terrifying woman with unnaturally pointy teeth had let them in, shooting Johanna warning look before letting them pass.
Once they stepped in, Madge saw just what the draw was.
The inside wasn't much more impressive. It was run down, dark, cold, but filled with half dressed men.
"What the hell is this?"
"No place for saints," Johanna had laughed, vanishing off and pushing her way toward the stage.
That was the last time Madge had seen Johanna before Katniss had become one with the bar.
A few times Madge had tried to glance back at the stage, searching for Johanna, only to be overwhelmed with embarrassment.
Johanna hadn't picked this place for the cheap drinks, she'd picked it specifically to embarrass Madge, and it was working.
Johanna was right, she was a prude. She didn't care though, and she wasn't staying much longer. That nutcase could find her own way home. .
"Katniss, haven't you had enough?" Madge finally asks, her face warming and her ears ringing from the screaming coming from around the stage.
"No," Katniss says flatly, waving the green haired bartender down and ordering another beer..
"Should've known," Madge mutters, tearing another napkin to pieces and wishing she'd eaten something more at lunch as her stomach rumbles.
She eyes the peanuts sitting one stool down, but decides against it. No telling what's on them in a place like this.
Another ten minutes ticks by and Madge is certain last call has to be coming soon, when she hears her name.
"MADGE UNDERSHIRT!"
Well, mostly her name.
Cringing, Madge turns and finds Johanna, inebriated past the point of reason, standing on the stage and directing everyone's attention at Madge's little corner of the bar.
"ST. MADGE, GET UP HERE!" She jabs a finger at the stage and laughs, nearly falls over only to be caught by a man in a firefighter's get up.
Madge wonders idly if this is why Johanna got such a cool reception from the bouncer. How many times has she been thrown out? It would've save Madge some time if she'd just have kept them out permanently.
Glancing around, Madge prays the scary bouncer is coming in, but no such luck. Johanna's luck seems to be holding out.
Shaking her head, Madge rolls her eyes and turns back to the bar, only to be hoisted from her seat seconds later.
"Oh, no, you don't-she's very drunk," Madge tries to explain to the large, very muscled man dressed in a pair of boxers, bow-tie, and nothing else, carrying her to the stage.
He chuckles. "Yeah, we know. She's a regular." He deposits Madge just in front of the stage. "Don't worry, kid, you'll be okay."
Before Madge can argue with him or get away from the stage, she's pulled up by the back of her shirt and half thrown unceremoniously down the runway, nearly sending her tumbling onto her butt.
"NO BACKING OUT ST. MADGE!" Johanna shouts as she steps towards Madge, giving her a none too gentle shove further down the stage. "TIME TO LOSE THAT HALO!"
"Johanna, have you lost your mind?" Madge yells back, her voice barely rising above the music.
Johanna only laughs in response.
Irritated, Madge starts to jump down, she's going to grab Katniss and get out of this madhouse, but she's stopped from escaping by yet another set of hands pulling her back.
"So help me, Johanna!"
Only it isn't Johanna, it's her firefighter.
Well, he's dressed as a firefighter anyways.
He's good looking, dark haired, light eyed, and warm, olive skin, and Madge can imagine him as a real firefighter based on his build alone.
But he isn't a firefighter, not by a long-shot.
Flashing Madge a grin that had they not been on stage in front of a crowd of drunken women would've probably turned her into an inarticulate heap, he gives her a soft push, causing her to fall back onto a chair that had materialized behind her.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ST. MADGE!"
Birthday? What lie had Johanna told them to orchestrate this?
Frantically, Madge looks around for Johanna, but she's vanished, leaving Madge sitting at the center of attention, with a faux firefighter doing an evocative dance in her face.
It's clear by the hoots and squeals that any number of the other women would dearly love to be in Madge's position, and she'd happily let them take it, but between the heat from the lights and the burning of her own body trying to spontaneously combust on her, she can't seem to move.
She sits, melded to the chair in mute terror as the man dances, losing article after article of clothing, until he's down to some sort of scanty underwear.
It's red, shiny, and tight, not nearly substantive enough to do it's job, and Madge vaguely wonders if it's as uncomfortable as it looks. That's the last thought she has before passing out.
#######
"Come on, you're okay."
Madge blinks once, twice, three times before her blurred vision clears and she finds herself staring up at dirty ceiling tiles.
"There you are," a man says, sitting her up. It's a little too fast, and she immediately covers her mouth.
"Need a trash can?" The man, a bronzed with auburn hair, asks her kindly, waving a hand toward a metallic bucket near the door.
"No, thank you," Madge shakes her head and fights off the nausea.
Once it's passed, she squints around, trying to piece together what's happened.
She's stretched out on a velvet chaise that, like the building it's homed in, has seen better days. It's ancient gold and had patches rubbed off over the decades. Madge doesn't want to even imagine what kind of mites might be living in it's cushions.
The room is only slightly larger than her dorm room, has playbills for local shows plastered to every inch of wall possible, and an vanity with a lighted mirror taking up most of the wall opposite Madge's seat. It's dimly lit, a rose tint coloring everything, but despite the warm lighting and cluttered walls, it smells crisp, like the beach after a violent storm.
"You passed out," the man explains, though Madge didn't need it at this point.
She nods. "Oh, thanks." She tries to stand but he gently pushes her back down. "I"m fine."
"How much did you drink?"
Madge presses her fingers to her eyes. "Zero. I don't drink. I came to drive. I just got too hot."
Though she might reconsider ever deciding to baby sit her roommate again, even if Johanna is involved.
The man looks like he's about to say something but gets cut short by the door opening.
"Thresh is taking Johanna home," the man that had been dressed as a firefighter tells them. "She's still laughing, if you were wondering."
Grimacing, the first man looks back to Madge. "I'm guessing she lied about it being your birthday?"
Madge nods.
"Dammit, Finnick, I told you to just ban her for good! Everytime she comes she does something," the firefighter snaps, waving a hand in Madge's direction. "What did she give her?"
The man, Finnick, sighs. "Nothing, she's just their driver." He gives Madge a weak smile and holds out his hand. "Finnick Odair. Owner."
Still a little confused, Madge takes his hand. "Madge Undersee, uh...student."
Dropping onto the chaise the former firefighter dancer groans.
He's still very good looking, even without the getup. The sweats he's switched to hang temptingly on his hips and the simple white shirt actually makes his stomach and chest more appealing than the fireman's garb had. Simplicity suits him.
"Johanna is plague," he grumbles. "She told Finnick it was your twenty-first and wanted to give you a good time. He, rather stupidly, fell for it."
Finnick shrugs, as if to say, 'well, what did you expect', before sighing.
"She's an old friend. Guess I trust my friends too much, huh?"
"Just the ones with a history of being liars," the fireman grumbles before slouching back against the wall.
He sighs and rubs a hand over his face before looking at Madge.
"I'd be a little more picky about your friends if I were you, or you'll end up like Fin here."
Madge's nose wrinkles. "Johanna isn't my friend." Maybe she's actually close to the opposite. "I only came because of Kat-Oh god!"
Jumping to her feet, Madge tries to get to the door but her body protests. The world sway dangerously under her feet, sending her toppling toward the ground.
"Careful," the fireman's voice rumbles through her as he steadies her, pulling her to his chest and keeping her on her feet. "How many you have?"
"None!" Madge tries to push him off. "My friend is still at the bar-"
"We got her," he assures her. "Enobaria and Bird have her sleeping it off behind the bar. She's fine."
Finnick produces Katniss' id, proving her just barely legal, and hands it to Madge.
Despite the world still spinning around her, Madge takes the id and tries once more to shove the fireman off. She doesn't trust them and she wants to see for herself that Katniss is okay.
"I'm leaving, and Katniss is coming with me," she tells them, taking a shaky step toward the door.
"Fine," the fake fireman nods. "But you aren't driving."
#######
Despite the fact that the bartender vouches that Madge hadn't had a drink Finnick and his friend refuse to let Madge drive.
"You could've been drunk before you got here," the little green haired bartender explains. "Your friends sure as hell were."
While that was true, Madge still fumes at being treated like a liquored up dingbat. She's as sober as the saints Johanna accuses her of emulating.
"It's fine, we'll just call you a cab and you can come back for your car tomorrow," the fake fireman snappily tells her.
He might be charming on stage, but off he's a little bossy and more than a little grumpy. Though Madge supposes if she had to dance half naked for a bunch of drunks she'd be a little irritable too, no matter how much she got paid.
Madge groans, hoping her car is still there tomorrow. With her luck it'll be stripped down and shipped off before she can sober Katniss up enough to find her truck keys to come get it.
"I'll just get an Uber," Madge tells them, but before she can put in the request, Enobaria the bouncer cuts her off.
"Uber doesn't come here anymore."
There's something about the smirk on her face that kills Madge's curiosity and keeps her from asking just what kind of atrocity had occurred to get them blacklisted from Uber. If Johanna is any indication of the clientele, it was ten o'clock news worthy.
"So," the fireman, begins as he drops onto a bar stool next to Madge as she waits for the taxi to come, "how'd you get tangled up with Johanna?" He eyes her carefully. "You look a little upstanding to hang around her."
Sighing, Madge just shrugs. "She's a friend of Katniss' from class and she's always around. I think Katniss is the only person that can stand her though."
He nods. "I believe that."
Covering her face, Madge presses her fingers to her eyes until she sees stars.
"I'm never coming out with her again. Katniss is on her own."
It's a lie. Madge is too fond of Peeta to let his girlfriend go out with a known maniac alone, but that doesn't mean she won't put up an argument for a night in from now on.
"That's probably a wise decision." He takes a sip from a water bottle, runs his tongue over his teeth. "Johanna almost flunked out of our freshman year because of her drinking. I'd hate to see someone else go down that path too."
Letting her hands fall to her lap, Madge squints at him. "You were in school with Johanna?"
He doesn't seem like the classroom type, but maybe that's why he is where he is now.
Judgmental! Madge shakes the thought away.
He nods, smiling dimly. "Yeah. We'd still be in the same classes if she bothered to pass any of hers. She's lucky she's got all that insurance money for what happened to her family or she'd have been kicked out ages ago."
Madge almost laughs. Of course Johanna is only in school because she can still pay for it. Money makes the world go 'round after all.
It's a judgmental thought, but Madge has had enough of Johanna, and all the fake firefighter is doing is confirming what was beyond her worst suspicions.
Johanna Mason sees Madge as easy mark for her abuses because they're monetary equals. It's absurd, but that's how Johanna's mind works.
"I'd drink too, if I'd gone through what she did," he adds. "Still, she's a pain in the ass."
It's on the tip of Madge's tongue, to ask what happened to Johanna and her family, but another question slips out instead.
Johanna, and whatever troubles she may have, isn't something Madge wants to think about at the moment.
"What were you in school for?"
He smiles, a genuine one, not the showy one he'd used while stripping earlier, and it makes him all the more handsome.
"Not were, am in school for." He jerks his head toward the stage. "I'm just doing this to pay the bills."
Madge's face warms. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just-I thought-"
Shrugging, he takes another sip from his water bottle, spilling a little on his chins and wiping it away with the back of his hand.
"The money isn't that good, no matter what anyone tells you," he says, his eyes cutting down and across her body before smiling again.
That does get a chuckle from her. "I don't think I'll ever have to worry about being asked to strip."
She's seen the kind of girls that do that, and she's not even close.
They want legs and tans and perfect bodies, and the only thing Madge has is an above average bust.
"Wouldn't be so sure," he mumbles, taking another drink and looking away.
Face burning now, Madge tries to steer the conversation back to him.
"So, uh, what are you gonna b-what're you studying?"
Running a hand through his hair, he smiles again, and Madge's insides flip flop. "Engineering. Sustainable stuff."
"Saving the earth?"
"Something like that."
Snorting, Madge tries to imagine him not as a fireman, but as Captain Planet, flying around in blue body paint and those ridiculous red underwear…
"What are you in for?" He suddenly ask, jarring the strange fantasy out of her mind.
Taking a deep breath, Madge shakes her head. "Botany"
"Botany?" He frowns, his dark eyebrows scrunching together. "Like plants?"
"Yeah," she nods. "Like plants."
She wants to go into pharmaceuticals, studying plants to make new cures, but she lets the explanations stop at just 'plants'. He's probably just humoring her, pretending to be interested. Wouldn't be the first time it's happened.
His smile returns. "Are you gonna farm potatoes on Mars?"
Unable to stop it, Madge snorts at the thought before fixing her expression into one of extreme seriousness.
"Maybe, you never know. There might be a big market for Mars grown vegetable."
There are stranger fads around after all.
For a minute he stays quiet, simply smiling at her, then reaches out and brushes a wayward strand of hair from her face.
Maybe he's a little more smooth than she'd given him credit for.
"Well, if that doesn't work out, you can always start the first martian strip club."
Or not.
Uncertain if he's serious or toying with her, Madge pulls back and smooths her hair out, glancing around her and fussing with her shirt. Flirting isn't her strong suit, maybe it isn't his either judging by his comment.
"Taxi's here!" Enobaria, shouts from the door, breaking the tension before it can break Madge.
Jumping from her seat, Madge rushes around the bar and tries to pull Katniss from the cot she's been stretched out in.
After a moment of struggle, Madge is edged out of the way as the fake fireman reaches down and picks Katniss up, slinging her over his shoulder.
"She's a real charmer isn't she?" He asks, grimacing as Katniss drools down his back.
Madge just shrugs.
He carries Katniss out of the bar and sets her in the back seat of the filthy cab before turning back to Madge.
"Stay out of trouble," he tells her, holding the door open.
Hesitating, Madge bites her lip.
He seems like a nice enough guy, bossiness aside, and he's definitely the best looking guy to talk to her since she started school. Oh course, he'd have to be, being a stripper…
She shakes that thought away.
So far, he's been nothing but nice...
Time to put those judgmental thoughts aside.
"What's your name?" She forces a smile. "I mean, you know mine, but-"
"Gale," he answers, cutting her babbling mercifully off. "Name's Gale."
Nodding, Madge tries to channel any semblance of composure into herself as she thinks of what to say next.
"It was nice to meet you, Gale." She chews her lip. "And if, you know, since I came to your place of business-" Madge cringes at herself and her choice of words, "-maybe you could come to mine…."
Glancing up, Madge sees his lips twitch.
"And where would that be?"
"Sae's," she answers, a little too quickly. "It's a restaurant. Well, more of a diner...it's kind of greasy but…"
"I've been there," Gale laughs, deep and warm, sending a shock up Madge's back."Not exactly health food."
"Not by a long shot," Madge agrees, feeling a little queasy. "But I work every Thursday…"
Gale stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and grins. "Then I guess I'll see you Thursday."
Feeling a little dopey, Madge nods. "Okay."
"Meter's running kid!" The taxi driver snaps, pulling Madge back into reality.
"Thursday," she repeats to herself as she drops into the seat beside the mumbling Katniss, giving Gale a tiny wave from the backseat as they pull away.
They don't get more than a block away before Katniss throws up all over the backseat floor, all over Madge's shoes, and nearly getting them tossed out, but all Madge can do is sigh and hold her friend's hair.
Being a good friend isn't so bad, she supposes.
Being less judgmental isn't so bad either.