When Dean wakes up, he's being watched. It's not Castiel this time, though. It's his prep team. The second they see his eyes flutter open, a clamour breaks out that has him flinching, reaching under his pillow again instinctively.
There's nothing for him to grasp, though, and the groping fingers that yank him out of bed are firm but not cruel. The worst thing they do to him is strip him of his privacy and clothes and shove him into the shower. Dean feels uncomfortable, knowing that there's eyes on him, but he reasons that the quicker he showers the sooner he gets clothes on.
Once he gets out of the shower he's bundled up into a fluffy heated robe and, much to his displeasure, they start to put light makeup on his face. Now this is the worst thing they've done to him. It's not even as bad as the light layer of gold dust they sprinkle over his whole body.
Dean trusts Charlie. He does. He should. But he can't help but feel like this outfit is going to backfire and he is going to look ridiculous. Like a flaky, rusted statue made of fake gold.
After hours of primping, in which Dean has to fight tooth and nail to keep them from painting his nails after they cut and file them, Charlie enters with what Dean assumes is his suit. It's covered up and she orders him to close his eyes.
Dean obeys. A childlike excitement makes him fidget as they pull the suit on him, but his eyes remain closed so as not to ruin the excitement. He almost reminds himself of Sam on birthdays.
The inside of the suit is silky and soft as his team pulls it onto him. That's the first thing Dean notices. The second is that it's heavy. It must be at least forty pounds. Thank goodness he gets to wear his amulet under this costume, at least.
Someone grabs Dean's hand and he holds onto it while stepping into his shoes. A few people squeal softly and there's rustling all around him. Then silence.
"Can I open my eyes?" Dean asks, intending to make it sound sarcastic and teasing, but something in his hoarse voice gives away just how excited he is. How scared he is.
"Sure," Charlie replies.
Dean opens his eyes. He's met with his reflection, only it's not his reflection, is it? Surely his eyes aren't that green. His face doesn't shine and his hair doesn't sparkle like that normally.
Instinctively Dean rubs his wrists, only to realize that the bruises are covered. He hadn't noticed his team putting makeup on them, but maybe he'd been too preoccupied as they messed with other parts of his body.
But that's not the most surprising part of the outfit. He can see just why his suit is so heavy. It's covered in thousands of tiny reflective gems, in all shades of red and orange and yellow. There's even a hint of blue in there to accentuate the tongues of flame. Even the slightest movement gives the impression that Dean is being engulfed in fire.
Dean will be able to seduce the Capitol when he looks like this. He could seduce anyone when he looks like this; with shimmering skin and hair, going up in an inferno, eyes piercing and green, looking well-fed for the first time in his life.
"Charlie," he finally croaks.
Charlie just grins at him. "I know."
Dean's glad she'd interrupted him. He hadn't been entirely sure what he'd been about to say, or if he was even going to say anything else.
"Twirl," his stylist commands, twirling a finger in midair.
Dean rolls his eyes to save face but twirls for her. His prep team practically screams with admiration, but thankfully he doesn't have to deal with them for much longer; Charlie dismisses them without looking.
"Are you all ready for the interview, then?" she asks. Dean can tell from her expression (she's trying not to laugh) that she's been talking with Bobby. "Ready to seduce Andy?"
Dean groans and almost sits down, but at the last second remembers his outfit. "Don't remind me," he gripes and compromises by leaning against the counter all the makeup products are resting on.
"Don't worry," Charlie waves a hand. "They'll love you. Everyone does, don't they?"
Dean snorts.
"Well, your team does," she points out, cocking her head. "One of your opponents has already vowed not to kill you because you're just that much of a good friend. Kara likes you, Bobby's more sober than I've seen him in years—"
"I guess you've never seen me around the other tributes," Dean mutters. Around the Gamemakers. Around the insects. Around the president, around the Peacekeepers, around—
His stylist just smiles. "Why do I get the feeling, Dean Winchester, that you have charm that you just need to turn on? I'm sure you could win over your competitors if you really tried."
Dean scoffs, adjusting his cufflinks. If he's so good at winning people over, then why is John still organizing a hopeless rebellion despite Dean's pleads not to? Why does Sam get angry at him for telling him not to make John angry? Why couldn't Ellen stay and talk to him a little longer?
"You're going to be fine," Charlie insists. "But it's time to go."
She moves to turn the doorknob, but Dean makes a sound of protest. It should have been a word, but his hands are shaking and his throat is dry. He doesn't want to get up in front of all of those people. He would like nothing more than to blend back into the crowds, to let anyone (but Sam) take his place.
"You're going to be fine," she repeats. She turns the knob.
The rest of the District 5 crowd is waiting at the elevator. Jo is wearing a simple black dress with flame accents and, while Dean is glad they're no longer wearing matching outfits—it would take away the grandeur of the suit he's wearing—he can't help but think that a dress would look better with the gems.
Bobby raises one impressed eyebrow when he sees Dean's getup but that's not what draws Dean's attention. Castiel's face is contorting as he watches Dean draw nearer, but it's not a bad thing. In fact, he sort of looks like he's trying to keep a smile off his face.
Dean raises an eyebrow at him, but stepping into the elevator takes all his concentration. He can't scream and run away, can he? As much as he wants to.
When the elevator doors open, the other tributes are already being lined up to take the stage. Jo and Dean fall into line, ignoring the jealous whispers that follow them when the other tributes see that their stylists have knocked it out of the ballpark yet again.
Jo's steady presence next to Dean is the only thing that keeps him grounded as he walks onto the stage. The lights are so bright it gives him a headache and the roar of the crowd is deafening. Dean keeps his eyes on the ground, only watching Jo's feet as a guide to where he needs to go.
The people sitting closest to the stage are, of course, the stylists and the camera crew so they can broadcast the tributes and their stylists for the rest of the country not standing in the streets of the City Circle.
Andrew Gallagher, the recent replacement of the past Hunger Games' interviewer, bounds onto the stage. He looks just like how the old interviewer looks and maybe that was on purpose, Dean thinks, maybe to make it seem like the old interviewer is still here. Like time isn't passing.
Every year Andrew's hair matches his outfit. This year, his suit is midnight blue and decorated with flickering lights like stars. His hair has been dyed a deep blue as well, and his lips and eyelids have been painted the same shade. It's better than last year when his theme was black and he looked like a corpse all dressed up for its own wedding. Morbidly, Dean wonders if he'll be replaced once he's used up every color the Capitol can think of.
If there is one good thing about Andrew, it is how well he plays the crowd. He is fantastic about making the tributes stand out in their own way, reacts well to even the most basic of answers, and makes jokes when the tributes seem to be nervous.
District 1's very own Bela Talbot is up first. It's obvious her mentor hadn't had to dig very deep to find her theme; she's dressed in a see-through golden gown with only a small white slip underneath. She's obviously meant to attract attention, and not even Dean can deny that she's good at it.
After that is the male tribute from District 1. Dean learns his name is Vam Pyre and he has to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the ridiculous names some of the Career districts can come up with. His approach is obvious as well; he aims to impress the crowd with his bloodthirst but he's not particularly smart. Dean's wrestled guys like him before and won.
Rugaru and Constance are both quiet, but Dean can see in their eyes a wary sort of intelligence that makes him hope they're killed by other tributes before Dean confronts them. Peter Sweeney from District 3 is also ruthless like Vam, but Wendy Igo surprises everyone by being charming and sweet. She talks about some of the machines she's built in her district and how much she loves inventing things. Dean knows he'll have to watch out for traps.
Dae Mon is rude. He won't be getting any sponsors, much to Dean's relief, because the boy is also built like a tank. He'll be one of the more fearsome opponents.
Mary Worthington is sharp and her humor is dry but Andrew manages to make it seem like she's more funny than she actually is. For the last minute of the three allowed to her, she goes off on a tangent about her boyfriend, which makes the audience croon and Andrew wishes her good luck at the end in getting back to him. It just makes Dean's stomach turn.
Finally Jo is called up to sit with Andrew. Dean tenses up when she stands. She walks briskly, with purpose, and a general murmur raises the City Circle's volume at the sight of her flame-colored dress. Dean's sure that back home in District 5, Ellen's eyes are watery and she's smiling with pride at her daughter, looking so proud and beautiful and strong. That's how he wants to be remembered, too, though he doubts John will ever think of him as anything but a failure.
Jo manages to turn on the charm for Andrew when he asks her what she's enjoying the most about the Capitol. In true Jo fashion, she answers that she's enjoying the food and Andrew manages to turn it into a joke that makes the audience roar. Dean relaxes a little bit once he sees she's fine.
With a few flicks of her hair, she's got the Capitol completely under her spell.
His stomach is in knots by the time Jo's interview is finished. He stands up with legs that are shaking almost imperceptibly and tries to wipe his sweaty hands off on his suit, but the jewels aren't very absorbent. His hands just slide right off. How is he supposed to bring up his 'relationship' with Jo? Their plan is going to fall through. He can already feel the sands of hope slipping through his fingers.
The audience roars when they see his suit and Dean, remembering he needs to win them over, smiles, waves, and does a spin. He hopes he looks like he's still on fire.
"Hello, Dean!" Andrew says jovially. "Well, I must say, you've made quite an impression, haven't you? Spin again, won't you?"
The audience roars as Dean complies.
"Well," he says, licking his lips. What would he say if it was a girl saying that to him? "The Capitol has certainly made an impression on me as well." He tries to smile but it comes out a little bit forced.
"Part of that impression," Andrew presses, "is how you volunteered for your brother! Can you tell us a bit about him?"
Dean freezes, mind lagging. He can't seduce if someone's talking about his brother.
His eyes meet Charlie's, from where she's sitting in the front row, and he throws out the whole 'seduction' idea.
"His name is Sam," Dean says slowly. He's surprised by what his voice sounds like. Like it's deeper than it is, raspier. Sadder. "He's only twelve years old. And he's… he's the most important person to me."
A coo rises from the crowd.
"Really?" Andrew leans forward, raising his eyebrow. "I find that a little bit hard to believe."
"Why?"
"Well, look at you, Dean! Surely you also have a… special someone waiting for you at District 5?"
Dean can't believe his luck. "Well, there is one girl," he says, uttering a deep, fake sigh. "We've been close forever, but I don't think she ever really saw me in the same way I see her."
Another sigh rises from the crowd. Unrequited love is a trope they enjoy. It's in every single Capitol show Dean's boredly watched.
"Well, surely you going to the Games and winning for her will win her over!" Andrew encourages.
Dean bites his lip and shakes his head. He's almost having fun playing the Capitol like this. He's almost enjoying the secretive smiles he and Jo have been sending each other all day, because this is more like what they're used to: being involved in a lie to fool authority figures. It's just a game to them. "That won't really work for me, I don't think."
"Well, why ever not?" Andrew presses.
"Well…" Dean hesitates until he can see the interviewer almost bursting, and then he admits, "she came with me."
For a moment it's completely silent, and then the crowd lets out a few pitied cries. Dean glances up just long enough to see Jo's face on every screen. She's playing her part well. She looks shocked, her mouth open and face red.
"Well, that certainly is a bit of bad luck," Andrew says after a moment. He really does sound like he feels for Dean. "And she didn't know?"
"Not until now," Dean says, one eye on the screen where he can see Jo press her lips together and look at the ground, twin spots of red high on her cheeks. The irresistible urge to laugh nearly folds Dean in half at how well this is going. He can just imagine Sam, John, and Ellen at home, confused. Maybe they think he's trying to get himself more sponsors, maybe they think he's trying to get Jo more sponsors, or maybe their minds are looking so far ahead in the chess game that they can see exactly what the stunt is that he's trying to pull off.
"Well, one can hardly blame you," Andrew says gently. "She is a remarkable young lady."
"She really is," Dean agrees vehemently. Though he might not think of Jo as anything other than a sister, he's not blind enough to see that she is amazing. She really can win the Games.
"Would you all like for us to pull Joanna up and see what she thinks about all this?" Andrew asks. The crowd screams but he only chuckles. "Sorry, ladies and gents, but rules are rules. Joanna's already used up all her time! Well, best of luck to you, Dean Winchester, and I think I speak for all of Haven when I say our hearts go with you."
Dean stands up on shaky legs as the crowd roars so loud he nearly goes deaf. He's wiped the rest of the tributes off the map with his declaration of love for Jo, thank God, and he almost feels bad for the other tributes that have to interview with Andrew when it's so clear that nobody cares for the rest of the tributes. As he walks back to his seat, he's not unaware of the glares the other tributes are sending him.
The cameras stay on Jo and Dean, even after he's sat down again, for an unreasonable amount of time. It definitely pisses off the District 6 girl when she looks at the screen and instead of being focused on her, it's still focused on the poor District 5 tributes who are sitting so still but separated by an invisible curtain created in the viewers' minds that they can't cross.
Except Dean knows better.
He doesn't even feel bad that he's overshadowed the other tributes until little Krissy Chambers goes to be interviewed with Andrew. She's wearing a gossamer little ball gown with puffy sleeves and wings on the back like she really is a fairy. His heart aches at the thought that, when this is all over, that little dress will be bloody, those wings torn.
But he's getting back to Sam.
Nobody seems to be able to make eye contact with Dean as he rides the elevator back up to the District 5 floor. They're all seething, barely imperceptible underneath the fancy dresses and jewelry, but Dean couldn't care less. He and Jo are going to have all eyes on them. They're going to get sponsors.
He hopes.
Castiel is smiling gently and Bobby is beaming as the tributes walk back in stony silence. The second they're alone, though, the act is dropped and Dean and Jo are clutching each other, laughing like they aren't pulling off the most dangerous trick they've ever pulled.
"Who knew you'd have it in you?" Bobby bellows, sweeping them up into a hug. "You both were so good! God, it worked better than I would have thought—"
He continues to blabber on to Jo about how this is going to be so good, how this is going to make her romantic and desirable and Dean will be perceived as sweet and all that drivel, but Dean's turning away to look at Castiel's reaction. Apart from the small smile, nothing else is given away. He's still wearing the trenchcoat, he's not bellowing or talking at all, he's not jumping up and down. Briefly Dean wonders if they should be reacting like this when Castiel could very well be spying on them for the Capitol, but what can he really do? There are almost certainly bugs in their rooms, so the president knows it's all an act. Naomi can't actually do anything about it, though, not in public.
"That was an impressive interview," Castiel eventually says. He offers Dean his hand and Dean shakes it firmly. The escort's hand is warm—almost scorching, but Dean doesn't know how that could be possible. More likely he's just excited and Castiel's just hot from his trenchcoat.
"Thank you, Castiel," Dean replies. It's the first time he's ever said something directly to the escort, he thinks, and definitely the first time using his name to address him.
Tomorrow he's going to die, though, and his seconds are few. Should he really waste them on saying a few extra syllables?
"Do you have a nickname or something?" Dean continues. "Because Castiel is just such a long name, and frankly, weird. What about your brother? I'm sure he calls you things other than Castiel, right?"
Castiel tilts his head before shaking it slowly. "I've never had a nickname before, but you can give me one, if you like."
Dean opens his mouth without the first idea what name to suggest, but Castiel stops him by holding up one hand. "After you survive the Games."
Thank you all for sticking with me so far. This is the last non-Games chapter, so buckle in for some violence!
Reviews are welcomed and appreciated always. I will try to respond to them. Tell me about your hopes, concerns, anything about this story, or simply tell me about your day. I'd love to hear it.