"Come on, push it!"
Katniss casts me a sidelong glare as she runs, if you can call it that, to her next obstacle. After crawling under the sizeable fallen log, she clambers back over it and heads for the tree that marks the end of the course.
"Hustle up, Everdeen!" I holler, my patience wearing thin. "You're gonna go faster than that with six Careers biting at your heels!"
She drops her head and powers through the last few seconds of the final sprint, then scales the first eight feet of the tree and slithers onto the lowest branch. Latching her arms around it, she eases her body over the edge until she's hanging only from her hands, then pulls herself up until the branch is in the crook of her shoulder. Her shaking arms manage this twice before giving out on the third attempt, forcing her to drop to the ground. Her heavy panting as she turns to me for direction, or maybe mercy, makes me finally ease up.
"Okay, okay," I relent. "That's close enough. Rest a couple minutes."
A huge sigh of relief passes her lips and she doubles over, hands on her knees. Her jelly arms do little to support her, though, so she straightens back up within seconds, still gasping for air. "You're killing me, Mason." I hand her a canteen of water and she takes a grateful swig. As she passes it back, she pants, "You didn't actually do this, did you?"
"What," I scoff, "did you think we just played around with weapons all day?" Her expression informs me that that's exactly what she thought. To be fair, we've been training together for three weeks now, and we'd only ever worked with weapons until I started pushing her physical fitness last session. "No, most of us worked out, took lessons on stuff other than combat. How to make shelter, start fires, track prey." At that last one, Katniss catches my eyes sharply, forcing them away. Shifting awkwardly, I mumble, "General survival skills."
"Jeez, and on top of that you were training with a bunch of different weapons? And going to school?" Well barely, but sure, so I nod. Her eyes narrow curiously. "You worked really hard at this, didn't you?"
"That's why I was the best." My proud smile slips a little. "And why my fall from grace sent me spiraling. It was my life."
A moment of quiet observation later, she asks, "What's it like? Being down like that?"
"Like when you're sick with it? Like your mom?" She nods, and I uneasily cross my arms over my stomach. "It's not always the same. Sometimes it was blinding anger or sadness. Sometimes it was nothing. That's even worse."
"Nothing?" When I nod, she gives her head a little shake. "I don't understand."
"Pray that you never do," is my solemn advice. But this doesn't seem to placate her.
"Well, how did you get out of it?" she probes.
I sigh, dragging my fingers through my hair. "Time?" Even that's not really the answer. "Finding some purpose in my life again, another reason to be happy? That was part of why I decided to be a Peacekeeper. To do something for myself, get some control back over my situation. It was also a good distraction from Clove and that whole mess."
Katniss toes the ground and contributes, "I've seen my mother bring people back, using some of her herbs."
"Mm, I took some for a while too," I reveal. "My parents were really worried about me and they took me into the city to see a head doctor, and he gave them to me."
"That's nice that they could afford that," she mutters, ducking her head. "Traveling and seeing a real doctor."
"Well, it must be nice living with a healer," I retort sharply.
Her eyes flash back up now, widened with something resembling alarm. "I didn't mean it that way," she backpedals.
"Sure sounded like it," I snap. Okay, it actually sounded ambiguous, but she has a history of hostility, particularly regarding our different upbringings. That tipped the scales.
"Well, I don't always sound the way I mean to, okay?" Katniss finally has her breath back enough to raise her voice and show some emotion other than exhaustion. It's frustration - I can see it in her eyes, the set of her jaw, the nails raking through her hair. I've seen it in her before, the frustration of being misunderstood. Usually, it's cuter.
"Besides, my mother doesn't give us anything she can't afford to replace," she digresses, deliberately shifting the subject back. "Lots of her remedies have a limited supply, anyway, so she has to triage and only give them to the worst cases. Not all of them are things I can easily gather, some of them are usually only accessible to doctors."
A memory from months ago rears up in my mind, one of Gale saying Katniss's family might not be able to afford their own remedies. Back when she was sick and I made that ill-advised joke about arresting him. I'd forgotten that part. Returning to the conversation, I pitch in, "Well your mom is the closest thing to a doctor any Seam person can afford, isn't she?"
"Yeah," she nods. "Just about." And here, I don't know what to say. I've had the advantages of being able to afford medical treatment and the opportunity to start anew, and yet sometimes I feel like Mrs. Everdeen is more useful and put-together than I am. Maybe I should extend the same sympathy I feel for her to myself, but then again, I've always been hard on myself. Why wouldn't I? Everybody else was.
Refocusing on Katniss, I notice the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips are still parted to increase airflow. Of course. I don't have to continue this conversation at all. "Time's up," I tell her. I force a grin onto my face and land the inside of my foot on her rear end. "Story time's over, slacker. Now get your butt moving."
***o***
"What do you think for decorations?"
My brew pauses at my lips. "Hmm. Icicles." Darius narrows his eyes playfully as I take a sip, and I shrug. "Not subtle enough? Okay, how about those cutout snowflake things?"
"Who the hell even has cutout snowflakes, Mason?" he sighs.
Besides my general mission in life to be irritating, I just may be goofing off to draw out this interaction. Talking and joking about things like we used to is good for us, I think, so I'm showing an interest in his current preoccupation. A couple of days ago, Darius came across some supposedly classified paperwork and inadvertently discovered that Purnia's thirtieth birthday was less than a week away. Since then, he's busied himself planning a surprise party for her and guilting our shiftmates into contributing money to the cause. Not that it's a hard sell. Purnia's a frigid bitch sometimes, but she's popular among her subordinates.
"Okay, I'll ask someone who's less of a smartass for decorating ideas," he relents, peering over my shoulder at our comrades deeper into the Hob. "As for food, I talked to Peeta, and he said he can do up a cake with waves and seashells and stuff on it. Because I know she misses the District Four scenery."
My brow furrows at the unfamiliar name. "Wait, who's Peeta?"
"One of the baker's kids," he replies. "The youngest. He decorates all the cakes."
"Oh, okay." Not that I care, but I pretend to. It's not like I don't appreciate Purnia, but I have a feeling she's not going to be thrilled by a surprise party. And who knew Darius was such a housewife?
"I'm stuck on a gift, though," he babbles. "If I'd known earlier, I would've ordered something out of Two. What can we get her here?"
"I dunno," I shrug. "Laid?"
Darius guffaws, his eyes smiling in a way I've hardly seen at all in the past month. "Are you suggesting I do the honors, or are you volunteering as tribute?" He must pick up on the tension behind my waggling eyebrows, because he suddenly backtracks, "Shit. Sorry."
"It's fine," I bluster, waving him off. "I'm over it." It's sort of a lie, but it's truer than it used to be, anyway.
On the topic of things one of us may or may not be over, when I glance away I catch sight of Katniss and Gale bartering with Greasy Sae. Well, Gale bartering with her. Katniss already has her eyes on us when mine settle on her. She returns my smile shyly and starts to make her way over, much to Gale's visible annoyance. Not that she notices.
Darius must know who's behind him just from my expression, because his droops just a little. He turns around as the girl edges closer, and nods in greeting. "Katniss."
"Darius." Her eyes flick between us and she shoves her hands in her pockets. "What's goin' on, guys?"
"Planning a little shindig," I answer. Darius urgently puts a finger to his lips, so I scoff, "What, who's she gonna tell? Calm your tits."
Darius rolls his eyes and addresses Katniss. "Jo's being a loud-mouthed brat, that's what's going on." He clears his throat with a tight smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, ladies, I have more shiftmates to survey." With that, he's scurrying off to the cluster of white uniforms.
Turning to Katniss, I find her face affected with uneasy guilt. "I didn't mean to-"
"It's okay," I assure her immediately, figuring she's still on edge from our little misunderstanding earlier. "I know." And really, I do. If she'd been trying to guard what's hers, she would have made some remark referring to me as Jo once Darius dropped the nickname. I understand how Katniss operates better than I'll ever admit to her. People as withholding as her don't like being figured out. I know, because I am one.
"So, who's the party for?" she inquires, scratching her cheek as she blinks away.
"Purnia. Her thirtieth is just around the corner, and he's been putting all his energy into it the past few days. Boy needs to get a life."
"Or a girlfriend," she jests immediately. I can't help but snicker. She's sounding more like me every day.
"Maybe."
"Does he like her?"
"Purnia?" Shrugging as though the possibility doesn't eat at my gut just a little, I muse, "Totally plausible, but she'd never go for it. She has a thing against sleeping with other Peacekeepers, let alone her subordinates."
Katniss's head whips around in surprise. "She's your boss?" she gapes.
It's a struggle not to laugh as I spell out, "Yeah, she's one measly rank below Cray." Sure, we're all quite informal and friendly most of the time when we're off-duty, but Purnia is a prototypical head bitch in charge, and it's hard to miss. Then again, this is Katniss Brainless Everdeen, who's about as observant as a sack of the potatoes she's named for.
"Huh. I had no idea," she admits. "I don't pay attention to that stuff."
My lips waver with a smirk. "You don't pay attention to much, do you?"
"And Darius said you were being a loud-mouthed brat like it's a noteworthy occurrence," she retorts dryly.
"Hey!" I bark, poking her in the ribs. "Shut up."
Katniss's expression turns playful and my mouth goes dry. Though I doubt she realizes it, she's giving me full-on bedroom eyes. "Make me," she goads me lowly. Narrowing my eyes, I level a teasing warning at her.
"Don't tempt me, Everdeen."
***o***
April showers, my ass. The heavens open in earnest mid-Saturday afternoon, after several hours of spitting gray skies that kept Troy and me warily hanging by our truck for much of the day. That wouldn't be so bad if he were better company, but it's a monumental struggle to get a damn word out of the dude. It makes hunkering down in the truck so boring it's almost painful, and if I'm being honest, it only makes me miss Darius more. Hell, it almost makes me miss Cedric.
I'm relieved to get back to the compound until I'm showered and alone in my room, still with no one to talk to. Approaching Darius for no reason other than to socialize still feels awkward, and I don't want to talk about the damn party anymore. As I'm finally clean and warm after that unpleasant day, the gym doesn't hold much appeal either, let alone braving the rain to get there. Eventually, I settle on one of my old training texts to keep me company, slump into my chair and flip through its creased pages. Fresh ideas for my sessions with Katniss can't hurt.
It's getting close to four when a set of sharp raps echo from my window and I startle in my seat. Once my heart drops back out of my throat, I break into a huge smile. I unlatch the window and push the pane out – slowly, so I don't hit my visitor in the forehead – and look down into eyes as gray and beautiful as the stormy sky.
"Hey," grins Katniss. She straightens up, hoists herself up on the sill and leans forward to plant a surprise kiss on my lips.
"Oh, hi," I smirk. My hands scoop under her arms and help her clamber in the window. "Couldn't wait to see me?"
"Nothing better to do."
Nodding out into the gloom, I gather, "Can't hunt in that downpour, huh?"
"Yeah, we went right after school to try to beat the rain, but had to call it a day before we even caught anything. Prey were all hiding somewhere drier and we could barely see." Her teeth rake over her lip just before she adds, "I asked Gale to tell Prim and Mom I was going to visit Madge, and not to worry."
My lips crack with a genuine laugh. "Oh, classic excuse."
"Is it?" Her expression is just as clueless as her tone. Precious.
"You're acting like a normal teenager," I tease her, bumping her shoulder with my fist. "That's so cute." Shooting me a playful glower, she wrings out her braid on my carpet, causing me to return the look. "I suppose you want another hot shower?"
Katniss raises her eyebrows and responds a little too innocently, "I thought it was a standing offer to keep me warm."
Oh. She's here to share body heat. I can't help but gulp at that thought, but I try to keep it discreet. "Let me get you a towel."
By the time I return to my quarters, I find my girlfriend has already wiped her boots with my laundry, hung her dripping jacket and game bag from my clothing rack, and is now perusing my collection of pictures again. Picking out some dry clothes from the dresser, I wisecrack, "Make yourself at home."
"I knew she looked familiar," is Katniss's latest unrelated reply. Cautiously stepping up beside her, I observe as she peers closer at the photo she inquired about last time, shakes her head slightly. "She looks so normal."
Despite the horrible things I've let Katniss get away with saying about my own involvement in the program, this really rubs me the wrong way. Pointedly thrusting the towel into her chest, I state, "Scar's actually one of the nicest people I've ever met." Her incredulous stare makes me reiterate, "I told you, it's different there. It's hard to explain."
"Try." Her voice is as deep and quiet as ever in that one syllable. "Try to explain how your nice friend could so casually murder my classmate."
Pinching and ducking my brow, I sigh with exasperation, "Can we please talk about this another time?" Katniss doesn't answer, so I catch her eye again, still massaging my forehead. "Please. I don't want to fight, okay?"
"You don't? Are you feeling all right?" Katniss lifts the back of her hand to my brow.
"Oh, you're so witty," I drawl with a massive eye roll. "My neighbor Athena said the same thing. Apparently, I must be ill if I'm not picking fights and in general being a rude, callous bitch." Despite what's probably only a minimal effort, Katniss's face starts to split with a shit-eating grin, so I gesture behind her and snark, "The window's that way."
"Oh, you're not gonna kick me out," purrs Katniss.
She's right, but I still feel the need to retort, "And why not?"
"Because you don't want to," is her infuriatingly smug reply, punctuated by a kiss between my eyebrows. She's beating me at my own game. "Now, turn around so I can get changed."
When I get back from spinning her clothes and depositing them in one of the dryers, Katniss is staring out the window and, despite the sweater I gave her, weakly rubbing her crossed arms. As I prowl up behind her, I pick up on a shudder or two.
"You cold, Everdeen?" I murmur, circling my arms around hers. A little hum of affirmation answers that, so I lean into her to let my body warm her back, resting my chin against the back of her shoulder. My nose is pressed into the juncture of her shoulder and neck, and I can't help but notice how she smells like earth and sweat. Like life. I could use some of that.
The longer we stand there, the more she shivers. Unsure of whether it's due to the cold or her nerves, I settle on a common cure. When I release her, she turns around in a silent question, only to see me drawing back the covers on my bed. She steps forward in eager agreement while I get in. Burrowing under the blankets, I scoot back toward the wall to make space for her to join me, space she quickly takes. As she's settling in, I offer her my arms, and she accepts those just as readily. Once she's resting her head on my biceps and one hand on my ribcage, she finally relaxes. Occasional contented hums escape her lips as I graze my fingers over her temple, run them through her long bangs.
Honestly, I could listen to that forever, but after a few minutes of this, she breaks the silence of sorts with an inquiry as awkward as it is sincere. "So, how've you been?"
I can't help but smirk. "Since Thursday?"
"Mm."
"Fine," I chuckle, drawing her in closer. "Nothing new and exciting in the world of Peacekeeping."
"I missed you."
Katniss's face is buried in my chest, muffling her words so much that I almost don't catch them. But I do, and I tilt my head down in surprise, meeting her earnest gaze. "You just saw me the other day."
"That's not enough." The second these words escape her lips, her eyes widen and flick away. She tucks her chin and curls in a little closer, but says no more.
"Katniss," I beckon her quietly. When she doesn't move, I hook a couple of fingers under her jaw to lift her head. She catches my eye hesitantly and I smile, ghosting my thumb over the corner of her mouth. "It's okay, I get it. Whenever you leave, I start counting down the hours until I can see you again," I confess. "Twenty-four early was a nice surprise."
Those words are barely out of my mouth before Katniss surges forward. Her hand flies up, cupping my cheek as she urgently presses her lips against mine. The surprise paralyzes me for a second, but then my mouth opens enough to let her persistent tongue run over my teeth and probe its counterpart into a response. A heat starts smoldering in my gut almost immediately, and it's only intensified as my fingers wander down her side to trace her ribs, as our legs tangle between the sheets. However, my faith in my ability to maintain control doesn't wane until Katniss begins releasing soft whimpers into my mouth along with her escalating breaths, and I can't help but think of other ways to procure those sounds. A panicked buzzing starts competing with the stupor of pleasure affecting my brain as the heat in my gut starts spreading out in every direction. Most notably, downward. It's suddenly taking everything in me not to lift my knee and nudge her between the legs, give her that extra push she talked about. I tear my lips away before I can do something I'll regret when sober. Yes, sober. She may as well be a drug.
The second I pull back, her already darkened eyes narrow and flash. But then the panic in my face must register, because she leans back a bit and her hand trails down to my shoulder. "Sorry, is this too much?" she asks. "It felt nice, and I didn't want to stop."
Chuckling to myself, I roll back on the mattress so I'm staring up at the ceiling. She's right, it was nice. And I wish I could just enjoy these things with her wonderment and enthusiasm instead of being a big ball of hormones all the time. Especially since I can't act on them.
"I'm still not used to this," Katniss admits, picking at a loose thread in my sheets. "You make me feel things I've never felt before. The girls at school, they go on about boys and how they want to kiss them, or more, and I never really got it. I assumed it was because I had more important things to worry about, but maybe this is why."
A grin plays at my lips, and I turn my head. "It seriously never occurred to you before now?"
"Not until you said that thing about your ex being a girl," she specifies. "Then I thought maybe that was why I felt something different around you. Why you made me so nervous. In a good way, I mean. Mostly."
"In a good way?" That grin turns truly catlike as I pry, "And just what do you mean by that?"
"You know what I mean."
"I'm not sure that I do." I'm totally toying with her now, but I'm not sure that she can tell.
Rolling her eyes, she spells out, "I mean my senses were heightened and focused. Sort of like if I'm on a hunt, but I can also sense a predator. And I kept stumbling over my words and saying stupid shit."
My lips curl into a smirk. "And you're saying that's unusual?"
"Shut up," she huffs, palming the side of my face and pushing to turn it to the wall.
Swatting her hand away, I snigger, "Or what? You'll give me another black eye?" My saucy grin seems to make her falter. She retracts her hand, dipping her chin to break eye contact.
"Look," she mumbles, "I'll forget about my feet if you'll forget about your eye."
"No."
Those gray eyes flick back up in bewilderment. "No?"
"It's like you said, about how we met," I smile, tracing a finger over her jaw. "It's all part of our history. I don't wanna forget."
Everdeen returns the smile, eyes twinkling. "Okay." She tilts her head forward to reconnect our lips, and I don't resist. How could I? These kisses are a lazy smolder, not the flash fire we stoked a few minutes ago, but it still makes me a touch uneasy. Probably because I'm flat on my back and I can still feel how wet I am. I'm desperate for a good distraction right now, but with the storm, we're pretty much stuck in this room. Training would be a great way to work off some energy, but that's out, for the same reason. Unless…
My eyes pop open and I slowly disengage our lips. Once her expression is fully attentive, albeit slightly annoyed, I announce, "I have an idea."
"What?" she blinks.
"Grab your boots and jacket," I order her, tossing the covers and crawling over her to escape the bed. "We're taking a field trip." It's not until I'm draping my raincoat over my shoulders that I turn around and notice that Katniss has not moved and is looking a little queasy. "What?"
Her dry tongue flits over her lips while her eyes stay glued to the blankets. It's a moment before she manages, "The only field trips I've ever been on were to the mines." Oh, no. She lifts her head as I creep back toward her. Her eyes are glazed over, jaw trembling almost indiscernibly. "We go every August. It was unpleasant enough when I was little, but since…"
"Hey." My fingers brush over her cheek. She pushes out a shuddering sigh and sits up, drawing her knees to her chest. Easing myself down beside her, I take her hand and wait for her to continue.
"The year I was twelve, that was the first time after that and I… I started puking the night before, and my mom kept me home. Thought I'd caught the flu." Her brow creases and she confesses irritably, "It happened again this year. I thought it was getting better, but I guess not."
"How could it get better?" is my blunt reply. She squints curiously as I elaborate, "Did you ever even get a chance to mourn?"
"Look where mourning got my mother," she snaps. "The nothingness, right? I couldn't let that happen to me too. Prim and I were already on the verge of death. I couldn't afford to wallow."
"Mourning doesn't always mean wallowing," I preach. But saying this only reminds me that I'm hardly qualified to say that. So I sigh and confess, "I have a tendency to wallow, especially since the Clove incident. It really fucked with me. But something the head doctor told me was that you can still grieve without wallowing. Just sitting with your pain, acknowledging it and its right to exist, but not letting it incapacitate you."
Katniss shakes her head blankly. "I don't get it."
"I don't really, either," I admit. "But I'm trying to work on it. Be a little more balanced." My lip finds its way between my teeth as my eyes flee the scene. They land on the leather jacket still draped over one of my hangers, and I remember the plan that led us to this conversation. Standing to retrieve it, I instruct her, "Go around N wing-" Her brow furrows and I clarify, "-sorry, the back of the building, and meet me at the shack south of the barracks in five minutes. I need to make sure we're alone before I can let you in."
The gym is empty when I arrive, as I had hoped. The rain can make people stir-crazy and eager to exercise, but no one wants to walk even twenty seconds in this sort of deluge. My hood does little in the face of the wind, so my face is dripping by the time I get inside. Katniss, meanwhile, is absolutely drenched when she knocks on the door.
"So much for getting dry," she grumbles, slinging her jacket on a hook before peeling off her boots. The sweater underneath is dry enough, but the sweatpants I gave her look to be clinging to her thighs.
Barely resisting the urge to make a joke about getting her wet, I lead her past the lobby and proclaim with a flourish, "Behold, the barracks gym."
Her eyes grow comically huge as she surveys the room. "This is all for exercising?"
"Yeah. I'd love to get you in here a few times a week, help you get some faster results, but chances are we'd get caught eventually. By Darius, if no one else, which… awkward."
Katniss's eyes jump to mine, then deflect away just as quickly. "Are things still weird between you two?" she queries, fingering the cycle trainer beside her. "Even when I'm not there?"
"Would things be weird between you and Gale if he knew about us?" I crack rhetorically. She shoots me a look, but I'm unperturbed. "You know he likes you, right?"
"You've mentioned it a few times," she understates dryly. "I can see what you mean now, but he's never said as much." Flexing her hands and cracking her back to loosen up, she takes in our surroundings again. "So, where do we start?"
I shrug. "There's not much point using any of this stuff if we only get to do it once."
"Then what did you drag me out here for?" demands Katniss.
"Unarmed combat. Martial arts." Nodding and ambling toward the mats, I point out, "It's a softer landing than outdoors, and more space than my bed." Not that I would mind wrestling with her in the confines of my bed one bit, in time. That probably wouldn't be the most productive training exercise, though.
"So you're gonna teach me takedowns," she surmises.
"Mm hm," I confirm. "And grappling techniques, projections, pins and holds. Offensive and evasive. The whole lot."
"Okay," she grins. "I have no idea what most of that meant, but it sounds fun." No argument there; martial arts was always one of my favorite training activities. Especially once I was training with Clove, because we were well-matched in size and skill and it was a great way to get out serious or playful aggression. That, and how it often ended up leading to rough sex. I push that thought aside as I beckon Katniss to the mat. Or I try to, at least.
My lack of success in that endeavor becomes painfully clear as our lesson rolls along. Pun intended. Teaching her how to slip tackles and lead an opponent's momentum into a throw isn't so bad, because the idea is to avoid grappling. But once we're down on the mat, excess clothing discarded, grunting and sweating on each other, it becomes increasingly difficult to focus on teaching the holds I have in mind. This was an awful idea, as far as distractions go. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as they say.
We break from formal instruction after an hour or so for a bit of sparring, and though I mostly retain the upper hand, Katniss makes a breakthrough after a few rounds. Her pompous self-satisfied expression after slamming my hip to the mat and wrapping her arms under my armpit and neck to finish a near-perfect Quarter Nelson makes me teeter on the edge of self-control. My eyes roll back in my head as a jolt slices through my body and strikes between my legs, making it impossible not to seize and whimper. Not that I actually move much, seeing as she's got me firmly pinned with her body, but my verbal reaction is perfectly audible. Especially considering her face is mere inches from mine.
"Hanna?" Her voice and face are suddenly awash with worry. "Did I hurt you?" Not like I want her to. But I can't say that aloud.
"No, I'm okay," I assure her, extricating myself from her grip and shakily getting to my feet. "That was really good. Impressive."
"Thanks," she blushes. I think, anyway. Her skin is pretty flushed already. Once I take a moment to visit the water fountain and recompose myself, I return to the mats and find her back in an eager fighting stance, ready to test my resolve yet again. "Ready for another round?"
"I, uh…"
"Oh, don't tell me you're wussing out on me now, Mason," she taunts me. My eyes narrow testily. The kid is really asking for it.
"I was gonna say you're doing well on the floor stuff, so let's work on another piece," I snap. Katniss scowls but nods her assent. "Okay, let's do some more takedowns," I continue. "Ground work isn't of much use if you can't get them there." Also, the opportunity to slam her smug ass to the mat is looking pretty appealing right now, so there's that. Getting set a couple of feet from her, I say, "So, assuming your opponent is wearing clothing - I hope - that can be one of your most powerful ways to get them off-balance."
"Like what you did with my jacket after you kicked the axe out of my hands."
"Exactly," I concur. "Getting a good grip in the right spot is crucial if you want to make proper use of your leverage. Let me show you."
This doesn't go as well as planned. The takedown itself goes down without a hitch, as does Katniss, and I land with one knee astride her body. But as I stare down at her flattened form, my fingers clutching the single barrier between me and her skin, her eyes widen in a way that I can't interpret as anything other than arousal. Instantly releasing her t-shirt, I stumble back and exit the mat area, one hand raking through my hair. After exhaling heavily to steady myself, I turn around to see her getting to her feet and staring at me, her face an animated jumble of emotions.
"Sorry, I…" A defeated sigh escapes my lips. "I need to stop."
"Why?" she pries. God, is she really that dense?
"Because if I don't, I'm going to rip your clothes off and violate you, right there on that mat," I spell out. Even I am surprised that that came out of my mouth, but Katniss's reaction is priceless. The way her eyes are bulging, I can't tell if she's more scared or aroused by that statement. Mine drop to the floor. "Sorry, I know I'm disgusting."
"Stop apologizing." Her sudden sharp tone overrides my shame and lifts my head. "Johanna, this is normal, what you're feeling. This is okay. It's not suddenly not okay once we pass a certain date and then okay again once we pass another. That's bullshit."
"Well, that was what I thought too, before I got busted," I retort pointedly.
Katniss goes quiet for a moment, but the anger in her eyes tells me she has plenty to say. Finally, she settles on, "You know, Hanna, I think you need to let the Clove thing go."
Confusion takes over my face. "I thought you didn't think you were ready for that stuff anyway."
"I still don't," she mumbles, eyes flitting away for just an instant. "That's not the point." She gets her volume back when she contends, "But if your guilt is affecting our training, that's a problem. And if it's affecting our relationship, if it makes you uncomfortable being alone with me, that's an even bigger problem." Her toe scuffs the mat aggressively. "We can't have a natural progression if you're so fucking paranoid all the time."
A snort bursts out as I mock her, "Like you know anything about how a relationship is supposed to progress."
"I don't, but I'd like to find out!" Katniss takes a breath and a moment to collect her thoughts before meeting my eyes earnestly. "Look, I want to respect your hangup, respect you, but you know I can't stand being treated like a child. And now that I know what was causing you to hold back, it just makes me feel like that's how you see me."
Rolling my eyes, I insist, "I already told you-"
"Then prove it."
This interruption only irks me further. Tilting my head condescendingly, I sneer, "How would you like me to prove it to you, Everdeen? By sticking my fingers inside you?"
"N-no, by…" She shakes the shock from her face before growling, "By chilling the fuck out. And treating me like your girlfriend, not some kind of forbidden fruit."
Deflating with a heavy sigh, I gripe, "I knew telling you was just going to cause trouble. I shouldn't have said anything."
Katniss scoffs and turns away, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."
Oh, it's somehow unbelievable that I could regret opening up to Katniss? Really? And she asked how I could keep my intentions to volunteer a secret. She's too thick-skulled to realize that it's her hostility and self-righteous attitude that make her difficult to confide in. Too thick-skulled to realize much at all.
"You know what, Katniss?" I snap. "I know you don't understand this, but there's a level of responsibility tied to coming of age, at least legally."
"Oh, fuck you!" she snarls, whirling back my way. "Like I'm the one who knows nothing about responsibility? My father died, and I picked up the pieces and led my family, at eleven fucking years old!" Her eyes zero in on me, like a prey in her sights. "You? Your girlfriend dumped you, and you collapsed into nothing. Abandoned everything and ran away. And you're the one who was supposedly an adult."
"I was sick!" My voice goes shrill with insult and disbelief that she would turn that painful disclosure around on me. Despite her general insensitivity, I really didn't think she would stoop that low. "It's an illness, hence the head doctor. And it's that exact attitude that's tearing your family apart right now, the family you're supposedly leading."
She tosses a frustrated hand in the air. "I shouldn't have to be leading it! I'm only fifteen. Pardon me if I'm a little bitter."
"Oh, so now you're playing the youth card?" I scoff. "That's very convenient, Katniss. Very mature." There's a slight waver in her expression, so that must strike a nerve despite her anger. "You tell me I need to get over the Clove thing, yet here you are holding the biggest grudge of all."
"My mother's failure is still affecting me," argues Katniss.
"Look at where I am!" I counter. "Clove's betrayal is still impacting me too, brainless. It will be forever. She fucking ruined my life." When Katniss's shoulders sag, I recognize my poor phrasing.
"I thought you said that was all worth it because now you were with me," she mumbles.
"I mean, she ruined my old life," I backpedal. "You said you picked up the pieces? For me, there were no pieces. That's what I was trying to say."
Katniss's pursed lips force her sigh to escape through her nose. Her toe bores into the mat as she stares down at it, chewing on her cheek. The frustration in her eyes has turned defeated by the time they flick back up. "What will it take to convince you that I'm not her?"
"What?" The question all but floors me. Shaking my head to clear it, I answer, "I know you aren't, Everdeen. It's the principle of the thing."
"You want to prove to yourself that you can be responsible," she infers. My slight nod makes her posture wilt just a touch. "Is that really worth making me feel this way?"
"Katniss-"
"I just want you to be mine," she proclaims fiercely, "without the shadows of your past lovers hanging over us. Darius, Clove, whoever."
Again, this takes me by surprise. The passion with which she said it, sure, but more so the implication that this is not already the case. So I make sure to harness all my sincerity when I declare, "I am yours." This pulls a weak smile onto her lips, but the lines of doubt don't leave her face, so I do my best to explain why my words may seem unproven. "But Katniss, everyone we're with changes us. I've taken something out of every fling I've had. Learned something about myself, or the world, or what I want and don't want. You can't expect me to be naive just because you are."
Her mouth twitches glumly and her eyes flit away. And that's when I realize that maybe that's the problem.
"Does it bother you that this isn't the first time I've been in love?" I probe abruptly. It's not exactly reasonable, but hey, this is Katniss we're talking about. The only answer I get is her wide eyes returning to me and her mouth dropping open. As I return the stare uncertainly, it dawns on me what I just said. Whoops. I've been making an effort to avoid using that pesky word, but it's too late to take it back now. Better to roll with it than get all blushy and make it awkward.
"Don't let it," is my sincere advice. "Sure, I loved Clove to some degree, and I've felt things for Darius and a variety of other people. But it doesn't mean what I feel for you means any less. If anything, it means more. It's harder to fall in love when you have before, especially if you got hurt. It can be hard to let go of the people in your past, not to mention the pain they caused."
Everdeen's eyes fall to the floor again. "But you haven't," she protests quietly. "That's the problem."
With those words and her forlorn expression and demeanor, it finally strikes me how right she is. About that, anyway. The way I've been treating her certainly has been dictated by my past, completely. No, I haven't let the Clove thing go, and no, it's not fair to her. So I say, "Okay."
"Okay?" she echoes uncertainly.
"Yeah. I'll tell you what, Everdeen. I'm still not gonna push you for anything sexual, not for now. But I'll be ready when you are, whether it's today, or in a month, or in five months. I won't hold you back." Narrowed eyes and pursed lips is not the reaction I was banking on, so I snap, "What? Is that not a perfectly agreeable solution for you?"
"I can hold myself back just fine, you know," she snarks. "Has that even occurred to you? If you don't think I can, then you're no better than whoever made that bullshit law. Then you really do see me as a child." Before I can protest, she forges on, "I'm not some hormonal teenager with no self-control, you know. And neither are you."
"Speak for yourself," I grunt, averting my eyes. They are pulled back up against my will when Katniss closes the gap between us and tilts my chin up.
"Look, we're a team, okay? It's not only your responsibility, whatever happens here," she asserts. "I'm sure, between the two of us, we can take things at a reasonable pace, without you panicking and digging your heels in whenever you start to feel yourself losing control a little. I can still be in control. I can say no, or yes, or whatever I want." Holding my gaze, she earnestly implores, "Trust me. Trust me to know what I do and don't want, and to tell you."
"You're not the best communicator," I point out, in the understatement of the year.
Katniss smiles faintly and traces my cheekbone with her thumb. "Then I guess I'll have to work on that, won't I?"
We don't leave the gym until she collapses on the mat after the weakest excuse for a fight I've ever seen her put up, during another bout of sparring maybe forty minutes later. She often has to tolerate longer training sessions than this, on Sundays anyway, but wrestling and being thrown around like a rag doll have undoubtedly taken their toll and tuckered her out early. Still, I make a mental note to compel her to work on her endurance.
After I get some food in us and sneak her in and out of the shower, I suggest we continue training in a less taxing way. I spread one of my other textbooks across our laps to teach her some theory of weapons techniques, but very soon her drooping eyelids bid her lie down. She sprawls on her stomach and promises that it'll just be a minute, she just needs to get her focus back, but she's out like a light within seconds. Sore, exhausted muscles and a full belly and hot shower after a long workout tend to have that effect, so it's hardly a surprise. But it's so fucking adorable that I can only grin like an idiot and stare as her back rises and falls rhythmically.
Shuffling forward from where we were reclined against the wall, I drink in the view of the breaths passing through her parted lips while her eyelids twitch along with the images flickering behind them. She looks remarkably younger when she's asleep, less troubled and burdened, and it makes my heart ache that I've never seen her look so peaceful before. I can't help but think of how she gets such little reprieve in her daily life, and then it crosses my mind that maybe she's passed out so hard here because she's incapable of truly relaxing anywhere else within the district borders. It's perverse and selfish, like Katniss-level possessiveness and disregard, but that thought makes me smile. Despite all this, I don't let her nap for long, because otherwise she'll be up all night. And not in a good way.
Katniss's eyes flicker as I rouse her with a light shake of her shoulder. After squeezing shut again to accompany a large yawn, they fixate on me.
I flash her a teasing grin. "Got your focus back?"
She glances sheepishly at my bedside clock. "How long was I out?"
"Maybe twenty minutes."
"You should've woken me sooner," she mumbles, pushing herself into a sitting position.
"Nah, that's an ideal length for a power nap," I inform her. "And it's not my fault you're so cute when you're sleeping." She blushes and averts her eyes, which just makes me grin more.
We study awhile longer, but eventually end up talking about nothing, for hours. She's stalling. The rain has let up considerably by now, but she evidently isn't interested in leaving, and I'm not about to suggest it. It's not like she's never spent the night before. But now that I know where this is going, the anticipation makes the evening drag.
When I feel it's late enough to justifiably offer, I casually remark, "I'm gonna get ready to hit the sack. Do you want to stay?"
There's obvious straining in her face as she tries to disguise it, play it cool, but the light in her eyes makes her excitement conspicuous all the same. "Yeah. I'd like that."
The truth of that statement isn't readily apparent once the lights are off and we're huddled under my covers. Separately. For all her talk of progressing naturally, Katniss is lying stiff as a board beside me, a far cry from what I observed during her impromptu nap a few hours earlier. It takes me several tense moments to clue in that it's because she's not used to this kind of situation and doesn't know what to do. Cuddling a bit in the daylight doesn't translate so well to holding someone at night, at least not for someone so inexperienced. Nothing will happen if I don't initiate it, and I don't want to endure an hour of awkward restlessness before falling asleep like I had to last time, so I give in. Rolling onto my side, I nestle my head under her chin and lay my hand on her breastbone. A jolt rips through her body just as I'm settling into her, so I guess she wasn't expecting that.
Her suddenly loud and rapid heartbeat echoes through her ribcage and into my ear, and though it makes me smile smugly, I decide against teasing her about it. That would just be cruel. She's already nervous enough, unable to move a muscle except to swallow and twitch. I wonder after a minute if I've made her truly uncomfortable and should back off, but then she shifts to free her right arm and let me snuggle in closer. While I move to comply, she wraps said arm around my torso and sneaks her other hand up to grasp my forearm. I promptly work it out of her grip and then take her hand in mine before she can retract it, slipping my fingers between hers. She squeezes them in reply.
Her heart eventually slows and she begins tracing patterns over my shoulder. Shifting to get more comfortable, I turn to rest more on my stomach and hook a leg over her knees. She scoops her arm under my shoulder and pulls me closer just as she lifts her head to leave a kiss on my crown. My first impulse is to tilt my face up and intercept that kiss with my lips, but alarm bells in my head give me pause until I am able to remind myself of our new agreement of sorts. She wants my trust, so I give it to her.
Katniss startles subtly when I crane my neck to reach her mouth, but she responds eagerly, wringing my fingers between hers and sweeping her palm over as much of my back as she can reach. Her parted lips, on the contrary, brush gently across mine with soft pecks here and there, breathing my breath and nearly stealing it. Her lungs suddenly draw a sharper breath as she pushes forward to increase the pressure, and I take that as my cue to slip my tongue between her teeth. She gasps almost silently as hers moves to meet it, dancing with it lightly, almost teasingly so. Though I doubt that's intentional.
While I may be predisposed to roughness, the raw sensuality of this is overpowering in its own way. Is is too sappy to say that I feel it more in my heart than my loins? Just one more way this girl drives me nuts. What I said earlier was more than accurate. I am not just in love, I am head over fucking heels, to the point where it's almost scary. But it's much more enjoyable than the fear of my own desire, the one that Katniss has somewhat freed me from with her declaration of responsibility. Perhaps that's why I feel less desire now, because I'm not so afraid of it anymore. This moment is still frustrating to an extent, but I let it go on. I'm doing this for her. Letting her decide. That's what I tell myself, anyway.
***o***
Waking up in the stark light of day is a privilege I am only able to take advantage of twice a week, though my internal clock usually prevents me from doing so. The odd time I can, it's most often because I'm in the midst of one of my funks and have zero energy. Not today. Today, a peaceful contentment embraces me as I am slowly lulled into consciousness - another rarity. The first thing I become aware of is the scent, a wonderful medley of my laundry and my lover's skin permeating every breath. Then I feel the warm mass my body is cradling, the rhythmic expansions of her ribcage pushing into me, the way her legs are entangled with mine.
Easing my eyes open to the light reflecting off the white wall beyond her, I lift my face that was pressed into her shoulder blade so I can rest my chin on her shoulder and reel her in closer. I wish I could wake up like this every morning, wake up with her. How frustrating it is that committing this one simple act with the woman I love is forbidden, while I could have easily done so with Darius when I lacked the desire to. Sure, my Captain is compassionate to me and my situation and my Commander has a vested interest in our relationship, but neither has expressed approval for Katniss to be here. Despite my confident blustering when I first invited her in, I know we could still potentially end up imprisoned or worse if we were caught by anyone who cared enough to raise a stink.
The hunter stirs, alerting me to how I've started grazing my fingertips up and down her forearm. With the exception of jumping Clove for training purposes, I have a habit of teasing my partners into waking, though it's often in a less benign way. It's one of the many factors behind my preference for being the big spoon, such as the associated feelings of strength and possession. I actually don't mind being the little spoon with Katniss one bit, though, as I first noted that morning I woke up in her arms. It makes me feel both safer and more vulnerable at the same time. Warmer. I like it. But I enjoy this too, and I place gentle kisses up the back of her neck until she makes a sleepy contented noise, rolls over and buries her face in my chest.
Katniss's arms snake around my waist and squeeze harder than her half-asleep state led me to expect, making my heart jump and stutter. She nuzzles deeper into me and snuffles, then grunts before mumbling a bleary, "Morning." She's so cute, I almost lose my mind right here and now.
"Morning, Everdeen," I reply calmly.
Lifting her head, she meets my eyes and smiles dopily. "Sleep well?"
"Very. You?"
Her expression takes on this odd, almost inquisitive quality as she reflects, "Never better." My hand moves to tuck some hair behind her ear, and she blushes.
"Still not used to it?" I smirk.
"I don't get to be close to people very often," Katniss shrugs, glancing down at the pillow. "I don't usually want to be, to be honest. It's hard for me to find people I'm comfortable around."
I drag my fingertips down her jaw and off her chin, then uneasily swipe my own bangs from my face. "It doesn't make you uncomfortable that I'm a Peacekeeper?"
Her head tilts up, and the sincerity and affection burning in those gray eyes almost makes me melt. "Not anymore. I trust you."
I could take her right now. It's an intrusive and inappropriate thought, but she'd look so beautiful, spread out amidst my sheets in the morning sun. But despite the obvious admiration in her gaze, I can't be sure if I'm detecting any lust. Before I can ask what she's thinking or make some kind of a move to find out, the sound of a birdcall catches her attention and she pushes up on her arm to check the time.
"Shit! I'm late to meet Gale." Katniss scrambles over me and nearly takes a tumble on the floor as her legs get caught in the blankets. We really didn't sleep in that late, not like if I'd kept her up all night or anything. We made out for some time, but things never progressed. Not that I expected or especially wanted them to. Apparently, my libido came back overnight. Terrific.
Despite the fact that her back is turned, I consciously flick my eyes away as Katniss lifts her arms to remove her pajama top, sighing as I stretch out on the suddenly roomy mattress. If she wanted to go for any other reason than to hunt, I'd urge her to stay in this warm, semi-comfy bed instead of going out and slogging through the mud. But I too know how to hunt and track prey, albeit a different kind. The mud and the creatures' likely hunger after that day of hiding should make it a field day for them, one they sorely need after being rained out yesterday. The petrichor should help mask their scent, too. It would be selfish to delay her, so I say nothing.
"You wanna come?" My eyes jump in surprise to the unfair view of Katniss cinching up her belt with her gaze intently on me. I avert my eyes to the ceiling with a sigh and consider her offer. Of course I want to go, but I don't want to cause any more drama. As much as I'd love to spend the day with her, and to be honest spell out our relationship by showing up with her late, I don't want her to end up on the same rocky terms with her best friend as I'm on with mine. I like to think I have a bit more maturity and self-control than her. Not to mention, Gale isn't my biggest fan and is hardly the first person I'd trust with a secret that could get me in a lot of shit.
"It's a bad idea," is what I say in summary. When she squints, I elucidate, "He'll be mad enough already. But if he realizes where you were all night, and that you lied about Madge…" I lift an eyebrow and allow her to finish that thought for herself.
"Yeah," she admits, shrugging on her jacket. "You're right."
"I have to go to Purnia's party anyway or Darius will kill me," I add as an afterthought.
"Right, right," she says, giving her head a sheepish shake. "I forgot." Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she starts lacing up her boots.
When she gets up and slings her bag over her shoulder, I finally drag myself out of bed and block her way out, settling my hands on her hips. She reflects my smile just as I lean in to give her a kiss goodbye. Things heat up quickly, her one hand flying to my jaw to deepen the kiss while both of mine draw our bodies flush. But she pulls away reluctantly before we can lose our heads, in favor of getting a move on. "See you later?"
"Yeah. I'll be there," I assure her. "I might be a little late because of the party thing, but I'm coming, don't worry."
I flop back into bed once she's gone, mostly because I can. My Sundays are typically spent loitering around the barracks, working out or reading or giving myself a bunch of orgasms. Not to say that I don't do any of those things today, I do have one special task that forces me to leave the compound in the early afternoon. Darius has commissioned me walk to town and pick up the cake he ordered from the Mellarks so he doesn't have to after shift. Unfortunately, I don't get a peek because it is already wrapped up in a brown paper box, and I don't hang around because it's the severe middle-aged woman manning the counter. Though she's never been unpleasant to me, Katniss's description of her as a witch of a wife combined with her general lack of smiles has put me on edge around her. Darius says that's just her face, but I don't care to find out.
Someone more thoughtful than me reminded Darius that Purnia has Sundays off and it would be hard to decorate the Commune without her noticing and thereby ruining the surprise, so the room looks bare as always other than the non-descript box when Purnia comes rushing in with Darius on her heels shortly after shift. She looks around in what appears to be a panic until we all jump out from under the tables and behind the coffee counter with a collective shout of, "Surprise!"
Her breath catches for a second, then she turns and glares at a grinning Darius before joining the group with a thank-you. My curiosity is piqued, and after taking my turn greeting her, I make my way over to the redhead.
Keeping my eye on Purnia, I inquire, "How did you get her here?"
"I told her you were having a breakdown and threatening to slice yourself open with one of the butcher's knives," he reveals, still smirking at his own ingenious idea.
I tilt my head up sharply. "That's not funny, Darius."
A cavalier chuckle escapes his lips, but when he glances down at me, my stony expression makes his fall. "Maybe not, but it worked." Shrugging and glancing over at our CO, he admits, "It was the first thing I could think of to get her out here."
Darius Hallett has always known me to be one to take a joke, but I guess I'm not finding my own lack of emotional stability particularly funny after what Katniss said about it yesterday. Breaking from his side, I wander over to examine the cake that's just been unveiled. I've never paid much attention to the cakes in the bakery window before, but this one is a work of art. A dazzling creation with blue-green, white-tipped icing waves swimming with fish and sailboats, and "Aye aye, Captain!" appearing to be drawn in the strip of sand pebbled with seashells and sand dollars. Our money was well-spent.
My theory that Purnia wouldn't appreciate a surprise party appears to have been erroneous. I catch her eyeing the clock a few times, but it doesn't seem to be out of sheer boredom. If nothing else, she's faking being grateful, even for the rather lacklustre last minute gift of a leather satchel. If that's the best Darius can do, I wonder what he would have ordered her out of Two. I would have gone for some kind of sex toy from that shop in the city, but that's just me.
Around a quarter to four, I decide it's time I took my leave, so I track down the host to give my regards. My irritation with him long abated, I sidle up beside him and simply state, "You did good, Darius."
Though I'm not looking, I can feel his eyes on me. Then I feel a meaty arm slide around my shoulders, but no need to hesitate before leaning into his side. Darius jostles me the slightest bit, his mouth curling into an affectionate smile. "Thanks, Jo."
My eyes track across the room in search of the birthday girl so I can extend my well wishes again before leaving, but she appears to have slipped out since I last checked on her. I do notice Tory and Athena observing Darius and me with devious smiles, though, so I flip them off before pulling out from under his arm.
"Off to meet Katniss?" he asks when I turn to him to say goodbye.
"Yeah," I admit hesitantly.
He nods. "Tell her I say hi."
On my way to my quarters to change back into uniform, I pass by one of the offices and overhear Purnia speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. The meddler in me makes me slow down and listen for the identity of the other voice, but when I hear only silence between her whispers, it clicks why she was eyeing the clock. The barracks telephone is in that office. Many villages have just one communal phone, so it's nearly impossible to speak to someone unless a time is set in advance. I've talked to my parents all but twice since I shipped out. Inching closer to the cracked door, I strain to make out her words.
"I know, baby. I swear, I'll make a trip out this summer." After a brief pause in which my eyebrows shoot sky high, she adds, "Yeah, I've accrued some leave." Well, well. Maybe the scenery isn't all she misses in Four. "Stay out of trouble, okay?" she urges the other person. "I love you, Jason." A moment passes before she says a final, "Yeah, bye," and hangs up.
As I stand dumbly in the wake of this discovery, Purnia exhales deeply. She seems to take a minute to collect herself before the creaking chair announces her standing up, and in that time I've scooped my jaw off the ground and started to debate whether to walk away and pretend I heard nothing or to stand there and confront her. My feet don't seem to want to move, so that settles that argument. As I hear her footsteps approaching, I put on my smuggest smile and casually brace my arm on the doorframe beside the hinges.
The door swings inward and Purnia immediately jumps back, her eyes popping. "God…" she gasps. "Fucking shit, Mason." Having never seen her even remotely jumpy before, I can't help my satisfied smirk.
"Thought you said you'd never had a Peacekeeper romance," I drawl. When she only glares, I press on, "Old flame from Four? Left him behind for your career?"
That last sentence sparks a flash of insult in her face, but she quickly recovers into an expression of neutral annoyance before growling, "It's none of your fucking business, Agent. Leave it alone."
"Leave it alone?" I retort mockingly, jamming my hand against the doorframe to thwart her attempted exit. Her cold emerald eyes bore into me, but I stand my ground. "Says the woman who's always intruding in my personal life. Hell, even my love life."
"I never forced you to tell me anything, Johanna," she snaps impatiently. "I was just trying to help you. Is it my fault that you opened up to me?"
My obnoxious snort is closely followed by a brief but shrill cackle. "Clearly, I shouldn't have, if you were lying to me this whole time."
Her eyes narrow indignantly. "I wasn't lying! That wasn't my boyfriend or anything like that."
"Who else would you call 'baby'?" I scoff. Upon the realization that I heard that part, Purnia does something I've never seen before. She drops her eyes. When she stays silent, I snark, "Oh, so you don't want to tell me about him? Funny, you're always trying to get me to talk about my problems." Another pointed scoff leaves my lips. "Hypocrite."
Purnia's face goes stony as she lifts it, as does her voice. "I am your commanding officer, Agent Mason. Even if it weren't improper, I have no desire to burden you with the details of my personal life."
"And here I thought you were my friend." My voice catches the slightest bit, surprising both of us. Since when do I actually care about this woman or how she sees me? I don't. Maybe I'm just insulted that she's pulling rank on me when out of uniform.
"Well, I was trying to be, in one way or another," she states decidedly. "But I don't need to, if that bothers you." With that, she muscles by me and storms back to the Commune. I'm left staring at her back, struck by a thought identical to one I remember from the day I met her. What a bitch.
When I find Katniss in a the woods a short time later, I know immediately that something is wrong. Obviously agitated, she's pacing around with her hands jammed in her pockets, chewing her cheek and eyeing the ground, brow furrowed. She halts and straightens up when she detects my presence, but far too late. I approach her with the same caution she might a wounded animal.
"Bad day?" I hazard, eyebrows inquisitively high.
"Good day," she counters. "It more than made up for yesterday."
"That's good." There's obviously much more to the story, but I'm hesitant to push her. As it turns out, I don't have to.
"We had a fight," Katniss reveals, gazing at the dirt again. So my instincts were right.
"Now do you see why I thought it was better not to come?" I question her, dipping my head to try to regain eye contact. I realize perhaps too late that that sounded quite haughty, but Katniss seems to neither notice nor care.
"Thanks," she grunts, still avoiding my eyes. "I appreciate that."
Fuck it, I can't deal with any more evasive bullshit right now. I got enough of that from Purnia. But since she's obviously very uncomfortable, so I try to temper the impatience in my tone as I demand, "What's wrong?"
Sighing resignedly, Katniss lifts her gaze in time to catch my reaction to the bomb she drops. "He kissed me."
I can feel the blood draining from my head as I absorb this news. It takes me a few seconds to form a halfway coherent thought. No. He can't touch her like that, can't kiss those lips. They're mine.
"He didn't say anything about it when I showed up late, just looked annoyed. We had breakfast and hunted as usual, went to the Hob to trade," Katniss rambles, observing me with what appears to be concern. "Everything had seemed normal up to that point, but when we were leaving, he suddenly asked if there was something going on with someone else."
I swallow down my shock and borderline rage to ask, "And what did you say?"
"'Someone else?'" she replies weakly. It's the surprise that makes me laugh out loud at this, I think. Not that it should be surprising. That is so very Katniss.
Her face darkens menacingly before I get a chance to recover my wits. "I might have just ended my only real friendship and endangered my ability to feed my family," she growls dangerously. "And you somehow find that funny?"
"No," I retort, mildly irked by the accusation. "That's not why I was laughing, brainless."
"Oh? Then what's so funny, Mason?" she demands icily.
"Your lack of tact, duh." With a demonstrative shrug, I add, "Sometimes it's so bad it's laughable. What can I say?"
"Oh, I know," she agrees in a voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm, prowling closer. "Hilarious, right? It's so fucking funny when socially inept little Katniss stumbles over her words and says stupid shit, as usual. Alienates her friends, whatever, it's hilarious."
My brow creases with bewilderment. "I was just teasing when I said that, you know."
"Yeah, but you meant it!" she maintains. "That's what you really think of me."
"Look, I wasn't trying to be mean."
"Yeah, well neither was I. I was caught off-guard," she snaps. "It's funny to you because you actually can have tact if you try. But you don't, because you don't care about anyone's feelings other than your former boy toy's. And yet somehow I'm the bad person because I say things wrong?"
"Okay!" My hands lift in surrender. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you cared how anyone saw you."
"Gale isn't just anyone," she mutters at the ground. "And neither are you." When she catches my eye again, the sincerity is plain as day in hers. So she really does care what I think of her. In a way, this isn't surprising, because I seem to cull a lot more emotion from her than most people, even if that emotion is generally anger. But I guess I always just chalked her general emotional stuntedness up to apathy and a lack of effort. Before I can reflect on this any further, Katniss interjects, "Don't you remember how upset you were when Darius's feelings were hurt? Imagine that, but like ten times worse."
"It's not like you and Gale are sleeping together," I mention pointedly.
"Right, because whether or not you're having sex with someone totally decides how close you are," she snarks. "Good to know that's how you feel." Her eyes flit away as her toe grinds into the dirt. Her voice has lost its edge when she asks, "Does your relationship with Darius somehow mean more to you because you've…" She peeks up as she trails off, and I shake my head vehemently.
"No," I declare. "It doesn't."
A bit of tension leaves her body, but I can still hear the frustration in her tone when she says, "I don't think you understand. Until recently, Gale was the only person other than Prim who could make me smile."
"I don't think I wanted to understand, to be honest," I confess. "Your relationship intimidated me. I didn't want to see what you meant to each other."
"You don't have to be intimidated by Gale," she assures me. "I'm only interested in being with you."
My eyes fall as I mumble, "I know that, now." After a moment, I clear my throat and cautiously probe, "So, what did he do? When you said that?"
Katniss rakes her nails through her hair, the distress showing on her face again. "He looked really hurt, pulled away from me. Then he said, 'And here I thought I was losing you.' And I said I didn't understand and he hadn't lost me at all, and that's when he kissed me. And then he said, 'I had to do that, at least once,' and walked away. Didn't look back."
I want to hate Gale for this, but honestly, I can understand his desperation. Feeling like I'm losing Katniss has led me to do some pretty crazy things. Like nearly crack her skull open, for instance.
"Please don't hurt him, okay?" These words call my attention back to my lover, who's watching my reaction uneasily.
"What?" With a quick shake of my head, I blink away whatever expression I was wearing. "I'm not gonna hurt him, Everdeen. Darius did a lot more than kiss me and I don't see you lining him up in your sights." Her expression reads as some blend of annoyed and relieved at this statement, so I ease up, tilting my head and lowering my voice. "Look, I don't feel threatened by Gale anymore, okay? I don't need to stake some kind of claim. I already know you're mine." Katniss blinks, her face going slack, and I cock an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"
"Yes," she breathes. Stepping closer, she drapes her arms over my shoulders and draws me in to whisper in my ear. "You are mine. I am yours. Anything else is unthinkable."
A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I was busy with career and general life stuff. This fic may or may not be updated again in the near future, as I'm now going to try to finish chapter 2 of BIAL and then write the sequel to Fireside. Then hopefully I will start working on the final chunk of LB in the new year. In any case, there's great stuff to come in this story and I'm always working on it to some extent.
Thanks to D7P for the beta, as usual.