Warning: This chapter contains content that may bother some readers. I have said since the beginning that that will be the case in this fic and that I won't say anything specific in these warnings to avoid spoilers. But if someone is having a bad day and is easily triggered, it may be something to save for later.
Over the last couple of weeks before Katniss's birthday, I continue to fail miserably to come up with anything to give her. My own incompetence only bothers me more once the deadline passes to get any packages on the military supply train for the first week of May, forcing me to think within the district. But I keep coming up blank.
With four days to go, I finally have a breakthrough. We're out in the woods, practicing rapid fire with our bows, shooting up a series of targets at varying distances. Katniss is on maybe her fifth time through, and I'm watching from her shooting side as she tears up the course. Her accuracy is remarkable, but it's her dramatic pull back that catches my attention as she releases her final arrow. That and her massive grin as she turns to me, eyes twinkling.
"Beat that, Agent," she challenges me, dusting her flaming fingertips off on her pants.
A smile slowly curls my lips as I get a very bad and equally brilliant idea. Here I've been, trying to think of things Katniss might like, when I already know what she loves.
Sauntering over, I give her smug ass a little shove. "No need to show off, sharpshooter."
"Jealous I'm better than you?"
"We'll see about that," I forbode, eyeing her up slowly.
There's no proving her wrong today, but that's not the point. She has no idea what she's in for. As we're packing up, she begins, "So, I don't think I'm going to be able to train on Thursday."
Trying to hide my disappointment, I query, "Why not?"
"I have to go to the Justice Building after school. It's the eighth, remember?" How could I forget?
"You still had enough time to train last month," I comment. Full disclosure, I lowkey freaked out when Katniss still hadn't shown up a good twenty minutes after she usually did, seeing as Gale had just kissed her a couple days before that. My brain jumped to ridiculous conclusions like him hurting her or her deciding it was him she wanted to be with after all. I felt like the brainless one when she raised an eyebrow and reminded me of the date upon her arrival. Pretty much everyone knows that your day of birth is your monthly pickup date for the grain and oil.
"Yeah, but I have to fill out all the paperwork again," she explains.
"Oh. It never took me that long," I shrug.
Katniss's eyes just about bulge out of her head. "You took out tesserae?"
"Yeah, why not?" Despite the automatic crossing of my arms, I chuckle. "It freed up some of my parents' money to pay for my trips to the Academy and what not. It's not like I didn't want to be in the Games or whatever. And it's not uncommon in Career districts, anyway. Even if you get picked, chances are you won't have to go. It's a calculated risk lots of people are willing to take."
Katniss's eyebrows peak, though she doesn't meet my gaze. "I never even thought of that," she mumbles.
"Of course you didn't, brainless." When she catches my eye with a scowl, a genuine smile takes over my face. "How about you come over later, then, after you hunt? Fuck training, I just want to see you."
"My mom will want to do up a nicer meal for me, spend some time with us," she grumbles. With unenthused air quotes, she adds, "'Family celebrations,' you know? Because I totally want to celebrate signing my life away to the Capitol, again."
I'm about to admit defeat and settle for seeing her another day when I'm struck by a new idea. "Okay, well what if I meet you for breakfast?"
"Maybe," she muses, perking up a little. "I'd have to get up super early to meet you before work, though."
"I might be able to swing something with Purnia, get half the day off or something. The whole crew's in town right now, so it's not like we're short on bodies."
"I thought you said she was mad at you," says Katniss, eyes narrowing.
"That was weeks ago. I have my ways." Her glare returns, and I innocently ask, "What? I can be very charming, you know. Gets me out of all sorts of trouble."
"You're not sleeping with her too, are you?"
"What?" From scanning her face, it seems that she's serious. "No, I… why?"
"Oh, just the look you got on your face," she ponders with an obviously sarcastic nonchalance. "That self-satisfied little smirk."
"Are you jealous?" I purr, tipping my head. "That's kinda sexy."
"Don't mock me," she snaps. "You have a track record, I thought it was fair to ask."
This observation, while perhaps true, rubs me the wrong way, and I find myself straightening up with a similarly inflammatory statement. "Yeah, it's definitely fair. She's hot."
"Ugh," scoffs Katniss.
Smirking fiendishly, I reach out to wind a tendril of her hair around my finger. "Oh, please, like you don't have a thing for older women in positions of authority."
Katniss slaps my hand away immediately. "Take that back." When I patronizingly shake my head, she declares, "You being a Peacekeeper is a turnoff, if anything."
My eyebrows fly up. "Glad to know you feel that way."
"You're the one who brought it up."
Despite my now doubly bruised ego, I decide to let it go for now, not wanting to end yet another session on a bad note. It always leaves me feeling gross inside. Prowling a step closer, I remark, "Well, on the bright side, that means my personality more than makes up for it." At my girlfriend's scoff and eye roll, I suggest, "Or maybe it's this gorgeous body. And this cute face."
My fluttering eyelids finally crack her sullen expression, and she pulls me in for a kiss. After a couple pecks, I lean back to look her in the eye. "Look, you don't need to go marking your territory around Purnia," I assure her. "She has some secret long-distance boyfriend or something."
"Of course I wouldn't. It's not like I want your boss knowing about us."
"She already figured it out," I inform her. "But she's cool with it. So far, anyway."
"That's rather ominous," Katniss mutters.
"Sorry, babe, people see what they see."
"I know." Chewing her lip, she scuffs the ground and sighs. "Maybe we need to give people less to see."
My best "you're full of shit" expression makes an appearance. "Okay, Little Miss 'Let's make out outside the Hob.'" Unsurprisingly, that doesn't appease her, so I sigh and loosen up. "Look, it's fine. It makes sense that people close to us would notice, okay?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"So, is it a date?" I prod. "Breakfast with the birthday girl?" Wary gray eyes flick up and I specify, "Outside the district, don't worry. Nothing to see."
"Okay," she smiles despite herself. "Sure."
By the time I reach the fence breach near the mayor's house on my way into town, I've formulated somewhat of a plan for the occasion. After stopping to see the butcher, Ruby or Rooba or whatever her name is, I move on to pay a visit to the Mellarks. I place my order for Thursday and grab a couple croissants for the road, but I don't loiter in the fragrant shop like I often would, 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.
As I cross the threshold back into the Square, my peripheral vision picks up someone to my right gazing at the cakes in the shop window. When a second glance reveals her identity, my feet skid to a stop on the cobblestones despite the impulse they feel to rush away. Something akin to guilt blanches and paralyzes my face, and from the girl's quizzical expression, I know she didn't miss it.
"Primrose, hey." My abashment makes that greeting come out rather stilted, and I have to clear my throat. I don't know why I feel so awkward.
"Hi, Johanna," she responds questioningly.
"Was surprised to see you," I explain. "Usually you're here earlier."
"Oh, yeah, I sold my cheese in the morning," she confirms. "Just out for a walk. Mom's visiting some patient and Katniss was still out. I got bored."
This causes a pang of more appropriate guilt in my chest, and I extend the bag in my hand. "Want one?" When she hesitates, I shake the bag at her encouragingly, much like Darius did to me in this very spot on my first day here. Prim smiles and reaches in, fishing out one of the two pastries. Deciding to play dumb, as she chews I casually venture, "How is Katniss, anyway?"
A corner of her mouth quirks impishly and her eyes slowly track over as she meaningfully parries, "I think I should be asking you."
My eyes can't help but flick away. "What are you talking about?"
"Her mystery sleepovers, duh," she sasses me. Her growing smile is audible when she continues, "I didn't think civilians were allowed inside the barracks."
Eyes still on the Square, I deadpan, "They're not allowed in the woods, either."
"True."
A moment passes before I get the guts to turn my face to Prim again. "Does your mom know?"
"I don't know," she shrugs. "I can read Katniss like a book, but Mom's…"
"Still not totally here?"
The young blonde's mouth twitches subtly. "She has her good days and her bad days."
"I can understand that." Agitated fingertips drum against my thigh for a few thoughtful seconds, then I catch her eye gravely. "Prim, I wanna make sure you understand, you can't tell anyone. People might stop buying from her, and I could lose my job. Or worse."
Prim shakes her head almost amusedly. "You can trust me, Hanna," she smiles. "Don't worry."
That smile proves to be infectious despite my unease. "Okay," I agree. "Then I won't."
***o***
Sleep doesn't come easily for me the night before our breakfast date, my mind roiling with plans and excitement. I'm awake long before I need to be up, but don't roll out of bed until I hear my shiftmates shuffling about the wing. Their trucks roar by me on the way out as I walk to town in the dim light of the burgeoning sunrise, my duffel bag swinging from my shoulder. I stop at the bakery and the butcher shop, adding their packages to the blanket and change of clothes already stuffed into the bag along with the little box containing my gift of sorts.
Once out of sight of the fence, I change into my civies and hightail it to the spot we agreed upon. With ten minutes to spare, I reach the grassy crest overlooking the shallow valley near our usual training grounds. There's no sign of Katniss yet, and I smile to myself that I was finally able to beat her somewhere, perpetual early bird she is. I flick my wrists to spread the blanket out on the dewy grass, then kneel on it and start smoothing out the wrinkles.
"You're out of uniform again."
Her voice makes me startle slightly, but I think I do a decent job of hiding it. Still straightening out the blanket, I casually remark, "You said it was a turnoff."
"Hanna…" There's an edge of guilt in her tone. Finally looking up, I find her creeping closer against the backdrop of the sunrise, feet silent on the forest floor.
"What?" I ask blandly.
"I stay with you at the barracks," she states. "I think I can handle seeing you in your uniform."
"Maybe I just enjoy pretending we're a normal couple," I retort. You know, rather than a pair of star-crossed lovers in a potentially precarious situation. Likely doomed to an untimely end that I try not to think about.
"Is there such a thing?" she wisecracks.
"Maybe not," I admit with a trace of a smile. It grows into a full one as I rub my hand invitingly over the blanket. "Come join me," I drawl, eyebrow arched high. Katniss's eyes narrow suspiciously even as her feet obey my command, a smile now spreading over her face. I settle on my butt watching the wisps of fog rise from the valley to the north, but when Katniss sits she rests her back against my shoulder and pulls her knees to her chest, facing back the way she came.
"It's beautiful," she mumbles, examining the streaks of orange and purple in the slowly brightening sky. It truly is a sight to behold, she's right. But I want her attention on me, not the sunrise, so I swivel on my butt and scoot up behind her. Wrapping my arms and legs around her, I leave a series of kisses down the side of her neck. Hums of enjoyment leave her throat as she tips her head to give me better access, and I grin against her skin.
"Yeah, Everdeen, nice sunrise," I murmur between kisses. "By far the most interesting thing out here."
A chuckle echoes against my lips. "Are you jealous of the sky, Mason?" She turns her head a little so I can meet her stunning gray eyes glimmering with mischief. "That's kinda sexy."
A scowl barely has time to form on my lips before I fall back on the blanket and execute a series of quick maneuvers that end with Katniss on her back beneath me, eyes wide. "Is it?" I ask, tilting my head as I fractionally tighten my grip on her wrists.
"How did you do that?" she demands, wincing slightly.
Fighting off the grin that wants to split my face, I slowly lower my mouth to her ear and husk, "I haven't taught you every move I know. Yet."
When I pull my head back to gauge her reaction, I pick up the looseness of her jaw and the way her eyes flicker as she digests the possible duality of that statement. I lift my eyebrows with a smirk so she knows that that was extremely intentional, and her eyes go even wider. It crosses my mind that maybe they were wide with lust from the beginning, rather than surprise.
Maybe it's mean to tease her, but when have I ever cared about being nice? Loosening my grip, I slide my hands down her arms until they instinctively stop at her firm biceps and give them a squeeze. Her musculature is not only a turn on, it's a point of pride. She's gained considerable weight in the last couple of months, mostly in her arms and legs. The exercise regimen I've put her on is key to that, but the extra food undoubtedly helped too. Not that I'd ever mention it.
"So you've been holding back?" A touch of raspiness affects her sassy tone, sending a shiver down my spine. "Aren't you supposed to be preparing me to face the big, bad Career pack?"
Gazing at her pensively, I tell her, "There are some things only you can prepare yourself for." Then I just watch as she absorbs that statement, trying to quiet the stirrings of hunger in my gut. Hunger, right. Standing up on my knees, I extend a hand to pull her back into a seated position. "I promised you breakfast, didn't I?" I crawl over to retrieve my bag, then place it in front of us as I settle to her right. "Tradition would dictate that I use a basket, but unfortunately this will have to do."
I unzip the bag but then pause uncertainly and warn her, "Now, pardon me. I wanted to make sure this wasn't one of your hollow days, and I may have overcompensated." With that, I extract the packages and reveal the spread. Chilled fresh sausage. Half a dozen cheese buns. Half a dozen croissants, half of them filled with and drizzled in chocolate. A carton of orange juice I bought at the barracks.
She still hasn't said a word, and when I catch her eyes lingering on the links, I have to battle the anxiety that wants to creep into my voice when I explain, "I thought you'd enjoy eating some meat you didn't have to kill yourself for a change. And I know those are your favorite," I add, gesturing at the buns.
"You're my favorite."
That simple statement catches me off guard, as does the genuine smile I see as she turns my way. I cover my surprise with the crack, "Are you saying you want to eat me for breakfast?" That double innuendo was not intentional, but even if I catch it late, Katniss seems to miss it altogether, shaking her head with a chuckle.
"Here, try one of these," I urge her, picking up one of the warm pastries. "They're called croissants. Darius got me straight addicted my first day here." Unabashed charmer I am, I hold it to her mouth so she can take the first bite out of my hand. Her eyes roll back with a tiny moan of pleasure that causes a mild spasm between my legs.
"Oh my god. That's wonderful." Katniss takes it from my hand and slowly picks at the flaky roll, clearly putting quite a bit of effort into not mowing it down.
"It's okay," I tell her. "First time I had one, I stuffed my face with it."
"I want to savor it."
"Lots to go around," I point out.
Katniss takes a look at the excess of food and nods, tearing off a large piece with eager teeth. "Fuck it," she mumbles through a mouthful.
"You can take the leftovers to school, you know," I add. "Anyone could have treated you to breakfast."
"I guess." Licking her fingers, she eyes up the same package, then reaches for a chocolate one. Her eyes flutter shut upon first taste. "This is a creation sent down from heaven itself."
"I knew you'd love it," I grin triumphantly. "You and your chocolate."
"It's a rare treat," she mutters defensively.
"I know."
By the time we're stuffed and have to stop, there isn't much in the way of leftovers anyway. Katniss lies down with her head in my lap, curled up and holding her full belly. "Ow," she mumbles.
Stroking her hair affectionately, I croon, "I have something else for you."
"I don't think I can eat another thing," she moans.
"It's not food." That gets her attention, and as she turns her head and squints, I elaborate, "I still have to give you your birthday present."
"I thought the food was my present," she says haltingly, laboriously sitting back up.
"Well, prepare to be surprised," I grin, slipping my hand into the bag to dig around for the buried treasure. When I find it, I retract my hand and lay the small wooden box in both of hers. Fingers as uncertain as her eyes curl around it and flip open the lid. For a painful moment, Katniss does nothing but stare.
"You got me a bullet," comes her blank observation. Eyebrows arching, she deadpans, "Well, at least it's not embedded in my skull."
"Not exactly," I reply, plucking the empty shell from the box. "It's what it represents." Her expression doesn't change a bit, so I forge on. "Look, I wanted to get you something interesting, but I couldn't think of anything you'd really like. You're not materialistic. So I thought I'd get you an experience gift instead." With Katniss now displaying puzzled intrigue, I can feel my eyes dancing as I ask her, "Care to give a firearm a try, sharpshooter?"
This takes a second to set in. "You wanna teach me how to shoot a gun?" My enthusiastic nod makes her no less bewildered. "Why? What would I ever use one for except shooting your Peacekeeper friends? When could I ever get my hands on one?"
"Exactly!" I cut in. "This is a once in a lifetime kind of thing. What other district citizen can say they've shot a gun? It's not supposed to be useful, it's supposed to be fun." Sensing her lingering hesitation, I place the cartridge in her hand and goad her on. "Come on, Everdeen. When have you ever turned your nose up at adventure?"
"Okay," she concedes with a hint of annoyance. A corner of her mouth creeps up while a mischievous twinkle takes to her eye. "I'm in."
I close her fingers over the bullet, grinning affectionately. "That's my girl." Then I lie back on the blanket and extend an arm, silently inviting her to join me.
Pocketing the shell with a grin of her own, Katniss obliges, settling on her back to stare at the morning sky with me. We don't say much more, at least not with words. My fingers trail down her arm until they find hers and slip between them, receiving the slightest squeeze in reply. The brushing of her thumb over the back of mine lulls me into some peaceful stupor only accentuated by the colors and bird calls of dawn. I wish we could stay in this moment indefinitely, but the sun persists in rising.
"What time is it?" she inquires after a while. "I should probably get going soon."
Rolling my eyes along with my body, I push myself up on my elbow to look down on her. "Wouldn't you rather stay here with me?" I ask innocently, eyebrow cocked. "You've played truant before."
"Just once," she retorts. "And only because that's the only way I would've had time to go to the lake. Sundays I'm hunting most of the day."
"Still, you got away with it," I argue with a charming smile. "And I'm not on duty until ten, so I'm under no obligation to take you in."
"I can't skip on my birthday," she chuckles, shaking her head. "They'd know I'm probably not sick, and I could get in trouble. I know you'd never believe this, but I try to stay out of trouble." I snort, culling a playful glare from her. "You wouldn't know. For some reason, I have a harder time controlling my emotions when I'm around you. Always have."
"Oh, yeah?" I inquire, trailing a hand down from her jaw to her collarbone. "What kind of emotions?" Leaning down, I let my lips follow the same course as my hand did. Her supposedly annoyed scoff doesn't fool me, given the way she arches up just slightly under the contact.
"Anger, mostly," she responds frankly. "You piss me off so much that I start sounding like Gale." I pause my mouth's journey over her clavicle and she adds, "Saying things I didn't even realize I thought."
After dropping my mouth for one more kiss, I slither back up so I can meet her gaze, cock a teasing eyebrow. "That's all?"
"No," she whispers, her eyes glazing over as she gets lost in mine. Then she tugs my shirt, pulling me down on top of her so she can wrap her limbs around me. Our mouths connect with slow, deep kisses, and she drags a lazy hand down my cheek. "That's far from all."
***o***
Upon returning to the barracks, I dump my bag in my room and immediately head for the Commune to get my caffeine fix. I'm just crossing into the lobby when I hear Purnia calling my name. Turning automatically, I locate my CO poking her head out of her quarters at the base of M wing. "Just who I wanted to see," she continues.
"Isn't it your day off, Captain?" I tease her.
"As if I ever truly get those," she gripes.
Flashing her a grin, I nod into the rec hall. "Join me for a coffee? I need to get juiced up before I start." Truly, Katniss got me plenty juiced up before leaving for school, but coffee's become a bad habit of mine.
"All right," she assents, following behind me.
While I wait for my drink to dispense, I catch her eye with a smile. "Thanks again, by the way. For giving me the morning."
"Well, it was clearly important to you," she replies dryly. When I duck my head sheepishly, she gathers, "From your stupid smile, I assume it went well?"
"It did." Snatching my steaming cup off the machine, I raise an eyebrow and change the subject. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"
Purnia glances around the sparsely populated room and nods out into the lobby. "Let's talk in the briefing room," she suggests, already on her way. Sipping my hot brew, I follow her curiously and sit on one of the long tables as she closes the door behind us. When she turns around, I can read the bad news in her face.
"I've always wanted you to myself in here," I crack, running my hand over the wooden surface with an eyebrow waggle. It's a poor attempt to settle my nerves. The coffee was a bad idea.
"I was hoping I'd catch you before you went out on shift," she begins, as though I'd said nothing. I should probably be grateful for that. "Sam has come down with something and he's being encouraged to stay in his quarters."
"Okay?" I say, unsure what this has to do with me.
"He was scheduled to go on our next import/export run on Saturday morning, but we're not sure he'll be in any shape to go by then. We certainly don't want him spreading anything to your comrades or the miners."
The reality of what she's telling me hits me with a dull throb in my gut. "You're sending me," I deduce blankly.
"Yes. You're next on the list," she confirms. My unimpressed scowl speaks volumes, but she barely blinks. "I can't play favorites. You're long overdue for your first cross-district assignment."
"So?" I protest. "There are other Peacekeepers who actually like IE runs, you know. Getting out and seeing the rest of the country." Narrowing my eyes pointedly, I add, "I used to hope I'd get one, before I had any reason to stick around."
The exasperation in Purnia's ensuing eye roll carries over to her tone. "I can't run my crew around your romantic entanglements, Mason," she lectures. "Give you a few hours off the odd time, sure, but this is different. You can't just bat your eyelashes and get everything you want."
"But I'm so cute," I pout, giving her my best puppy eyes. She shoots me a harsh look, and I relent with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Who else is going? Please tell me it's you or Darius."
"No. Cedric."
"Ugh," I grimace, mouth puckering. "So you're sending me away for a week with a bunch of gross old guys?"
"Only one," Purnia corrects me. "Rawley's not going either. Cedric's in charge of this run."
Another angle comes to mind with this piece of info, and I cock my head innocently. "What if he tries to, you know, take advantage of me?"
"Johanna," she states flatly, clearly done with my bullshit. "I know you trained for the Games and could probably kill him with your bare hands. That shit's not gonna work on me. Besides, if anyone's the pervert on our crew, it's you." When I merely glower at her, she plants her hands on her hips. "Do I need to write you up for refusing orders?"
"No," I scowl.
She gives me another dirty look but otherwise lets it go, dismissing me without further incident.
The news sours my mood for the rest of the day, and I basically just mope around the Square, not paying attention to my comrades or the civilians. I know I'm being immature, that this is all part of the job, but I guess I've been lulled into a false sense of security. I've gotten so used to my nice little life here that I've forgotten I'm at the government's mercy and can be sent away at any time. Part of why Twelve needs so few Peacekeepers is because our only export is nonperishable, so it can be shipped rarely and in large quantities, therefore leaving our crews intact much of the time. And generally, only two of us go from each shift, including one or two officers in total to supervise the mission, so I've just never been slated for one before. Purnia's timing is impeccable.
On such short notice, I have no chance to warn Katniss about this development, at least not on one of our regular training days. Thankfully, the typical Thursday night debauchery at the Hob provides me an easy excuse to run into her. I tag along with Darius and Troy and few other guys, keeping an eye out for the poacher, and am surprised to find Gale and her already there. Maybe she's not as keen to escape her family celebrations as she made it sound.
I spend the next several minutes joking around with my crew and keeping a subtle eye on the pair of hunters. Katniss was right. From watching them, I wouldn't be able to tell anything had changed. Gale sticks by her side, of course, but isn't giving her wounded puppy eyes or anything. Katniss doesn't purposely make space between them or avoid his gaze. I guess their arrangement is too crucial to both of them to let petty hurt feelings come between them. Equating their relationship with mine and Darius's was definitely a mistake, in retrospect. No wonder it pissed her off.
Once they split up, I break from Darius's side to approach the girl. On first glance, she perks up, but then catches herself and tones it down to a smug little smile, subtle but still noticeable to me. "Can't stay away, huh?"
"Don't flatter yourself," I retort with a playful glare. "I'm not here for your company."
"No?" she asks, pointedly glancing around at the lack of anyone else nearby.
"I just had to talk to you," I explain. "I'm being shipped out on Saturday." Her face blanches and she teeters a little, and suddenly I'm grabbing her arm and backtracking, "Oh, no, I don't mean for good. Maybe a week, if that." Her huge sigh of relief makes me chuckle nervously as I loosen my grip. "Didn't mean to scare you, Everdeen. We're just doing an import/export run along the Northern Corridor."
"You nearly gave me a heart attack," she scolds me, snatching her arm away.
"Poor phrasing," is my calm reply. "I didn't want you to worry when I don't show up on Sunday."
The sour eye contact continues, but her scowl abates. Eventually, she drops her gaze and scratches at the base of her skull. "Should I come over tomorrow night, then?" she proposes. When her eyes flick back up, they are greeted with a smile.
"I'd like that."
***o***
The night before I leave is a quiet one, in multiple senses of the word. Neither of us feels particularly talkative, and the little kissing we do isn't exactly passionate. Intimate, but lacking fire. When I turn out the lights and we're getting settled in bed, Katniss silently insists on holding me, rebuffing my arms and turning me on my side. I don't know if it's meant to be a gesture of comfort or possession, but I'll take either.
We get a rare goodbye in the daylight the next morning, as I don't have to report to the vehicle lockup until 7:15. Leaning back against my desk, I watch Katniss closely as she takes her time lacing her boots. Every detail gets absorbed: the deft movements of her fingers, her neutral expression, the slight slump of her posture as she stands up and shrugs on her jacket. My hands propel me off of the desk and into her, then frame her face as I plant a sweet kiss on her lips.
"I'll be back before you know it," I tell her. We both know it's a blatant lie, but she nods and pulls me in for a long hug.
"Try to enjoy your trip," she mumbles against my skull. Finally pulling back, she half-heartedly cracks, "At least you get a break from Purnia barking up your ass."
"It's a welcome reprieve," I lie with a convincing and effortless smile. Now's not the time to make Katniss jealous. Not even for fun.
When her butt is resting on the windowsill, her weight precariously balanced, she glances over her shoulder and gives me one more listless smile. It's more like a grimace with just a slight twitch at the corner, and is accompanied by a little wave. Deciding to project the calm I wish us both to feel, I raise my eyebrows with a little nod and return the gesture. Then she's gone and I push out the shaky breath I've been suppressing.
Swiping my duffel bag and rucksack off the bed, I pull my door shut and start toward the A wing door at the other end of the building. I may have packed heavy, but our trip time is flexible and thus I've prepared to be gone for up to seven days. One thing drilled into my head in the program was to always be prepared for things going wrong. Rivers drying up. Allies turning on you and attacking while you sleep. Weather delays or engine malfunctions, in this case. Whatever. The lockup is part of the armory at the far south end of the compound, and that's where I meet my CO for the trip and we sign out a pair of hummers for the next half hour.
Admittedly, collecting our group of miners at the west mine entrance and driving half of them to the station in my truck is not the least fun I've ever had. They are mostly in good spirits, I guess because they get a mini vacation while travelling to novel places, only working whenever we are stopped in a district. As I have to work at least eight hours every single day of the trip, I don't share their enthusiasm, but the positive energy boosts my general mood. It'll be an adventure, if nothing else, and I remind myself that this is something I used to look forward to.
Our bleary-eyed afternoon and night crews are already at the station to help process the miners when we arrive. It's a similar process to the Reaping, attendance lists and blood samples. Also a patdown for weapons which, as the lone female Peacekeeper on the trip, gives me the de facto privilege of feeling up a few Seam ladies. Not the one I really want to, but oh well. With our cargo already loaded directly at the mines over the course of the last few weeks, we are able to get going well before our target departure time of 8 AM. Given I want to be back as soon as possible, that gives me something to genuinely smile about.
It's a busy first day, with one stop each in Districts 3 and 6 in the afternoon and evening, respectively. That means I'm on duty on and off all day, as it's all hands on deck whenever we are in a station. I'm not a fan, but I try to follow Katniss's advice and enjoy the experience of seeing new places. My trip from Two was along a different route, so the urban centers of the technological districts and the scenery along the way are all novel. We encounter a short delay in Six because our offloading is more efficient than the conductor switch out, but we still make good time.
There's a long block of travel after that, over 24 hours on the train as we power through the wilds on the way to District 7. When we start into the expanse of forest the nation's largest district is contained in, I find myself glued to the window staring at the greenery. It's under the cover of darkness by the time we make our first of three stops in the district on Sunday night, unfortunately.
The final stop of our run is in the main town of the district, and we spend several hours in the station on Monday. This is where we offload the majority of our coal and then load the cars right back up with timber. Well, we don't, we keep an eye on the workers from Seven and Twelve as they do the grunt work. Given the length of time we are there, Cedric gives each of us half an hour to take a break and grab some real food. And it is no exaggeration to say I gleefully run into the city to explore.
The architecture around here is as gorgeous as the scenery, rustic brick and wood designs under the towering trees that I've never seen the likes of. The air is tinged with some gross scent in this town, which one of the guys already explained to me is because of a nearby pulp mill, but otherwise I've never been in a more pleasant location. If I accrue enough leave to take a vacation, I'm thinking I might come here rather than go home to Two. It's that incredible.
There's no need to drop any wood in the other towns on the way back out of Seven, so after a long shower and a canned dinner that is downright nasty compared to the local cuisine, I decide to hit the sack early and catch up on my sleep. Unfortunately, I'm still amped up and can't seem to shut my brain off. Now with plenty of time on my hands before we stop again, my thoughts drift to what I've been trying not to dwell on. Katniss.
At least I've been busy enough to keep myself somewhat distracted, but I'm still hardcore addicted and at this point the few days I've gone without feels like a few weeks. I can't help but wish she was here with me, holding me the way she did that last night I saw her. That memory gives way to other ones, like the encounter at the lake, and very soon I'm letting my mind roam further. Thinking of my hands in her hair, her skin in my mouth. Of discovering those last parts of her, making her writhe and moan with pleasure under my touch. I feel more liberated to imagine these things now, without the niggling guilt that always came with it. Despite my denial of it if she ever asked, that legal barrier never fully stopped burdening me. Deep wounds heal slow. It's not long before I'm taking the growing ache between my legs into my own hands, as I have been doing a lot since my break up of sorts with Darius and the start of my current extremely sexually frustrating relationship. Unfortunately, my own hands can only do so much to ease the even greater ache of loneliness I feel.
I've barely gotten to sleep after when I'm roused by a pounding at my door. Groaning loudly, I wrap my pillow around my ears and call, "Go away!"
The door slides open anyway, and I wince at the soft light of the hall hitting my face. A figure comes closer and squats by the bed, pulls the pillow away sharply. When I focus on my comrade's face to glare at him, I recognize him as Cedric. "You're a medic, right?"
"What?" I ask, wiping my cloudy eyes, then shake my head to process the question. "I mean, sort of?" I'm about as much a medic as Mrs. Everdeen is a doctor. I got trained in field medicine in preparation for my Games, but it was fairly basic and I've rarely used any of it.
"Are you trained in sutures?" he specifies. At my dazed nod, he explains, "There was an incident in one of the sleeping compartments, and we have a miner who needs patching up."
Rolling my eyes with a huge dramatic sigh, I drag my ass out of the sweaty sheets and stumble toward the dining room. The first thing I see is the two afternoon guys standing by the fridges, one with an ice pack pressed to his eye and an indignant scowl on his lips. The night shifters meanwhile are standing around awkwardly with their guns, feigning disinterest. My eyes linger on the injured Peacekeeper as I grab the first aid kit and follow Cedric down the hall leading to the district citizens' rooms. When he guides me in one of the doorways, what I see there makes my stomach drop.
A young woman about my age and size sits on the edge of the bottom bunk, disheveled and quivering, holding a bloody hand towel to a wound on her head. At the sight of us, a shudder shoots down her limbs, and I immediately turn to my companion.
"Cedric, leave us alone," I direct him, despite him technically being in charge. But the graying officer doesn't argue, silently backing out of the room and sliding the door shut. Once he's gone, I gingerly take the few steps to the bed. These tiny rooms only fit one bunk, and therefore two workers. Which would be fine, if there were an even number of female miners on this trip. But there are unfortunately three, leaving one to room by herself. No witnesses, no backup. How convenient for my opportunistic comrade.
Kneeling at the edge of the bunk, I slowly lift my eyes to meet the tear-stained gray ones above me. "Hi, I'm Ag- I'm Johanna," I introduce myself, pulling on some gloves and subtly trying to get a look at the cut just above where her left eyebrow meets her temple. "What's your name?"
The raven-haired woman sniffles and swallows before replying with a shaky, "Jordan."
"Really?" I inquire with genuine surprise. At her nod, I pull on a crafty smirk. "That's my sister's name, too. Hopefully, you're less of a bitch." A surprised laugh erupts out of her constricted chest, making me smile broadly. After digging out the supplies I need, I catch the girl's eye again. "Can I touch you, Jordan?" She nods, and I gently press some gauze to her scalp, soaking up the blood oozing out of the wound. Nabbing a second pad, I begin wiping away the red drips on her cheek. She sits stoically through the process, but I can feel the tightness and slight tremble in her jaw as my hand transverses it. A wave of shame suddenly overtakes me as I remember my little joke to myself about feeling up the three women when I gave them the regulation patdown on Saturday. I wasn't inappropriate with them or anything, but still, it doesn't seem so funny anymore.
"Did he hurt you?" I ask quietly, avoiding her eyes. Clearly the guy hurt her, but despite being a straight shooter in general, I feel a little tact and a euphemism are in order in this situation. Her demeanor is reminding me too much of what this feels like. My uncle got handsy with me a few times while under the influence, before his fortunate demise. Trying anything with a girl trained in the art of killing is a death wish, but he was too obliterated to think better of it and never seemed to remember why his nose was broken the next day.
Jordan gulps, but juts out her chin as she declares, "He didn't get the chance."
Unable to help my proud smile, I remark, "You Seam girls are scrappy."
"We have to be."
"I know," I smirk. "You're not the first one I've encountered." Jordan raises her good eyebrow at that, but I don't divulge any more. With only crimson stains remaining on the girl's olive skin, I add the gauze pad to the first one and address her again. "Hold this for a sec, will you?" After threading the needle, I rip open an alcohol wipe and remove the dressing to sterilize the area. Her hiss and wince make me ease up a little, but unfortunately this is only going to get worse. Fresh blood is already seeping out of the deep gash, and she's definitely going to need those sutures. Lifting the needle into her line of sight, I tell her, "I hope you're as tough as you think you are, because this is gonna hurt."
"I can handle it," she replies, though her eyes betray her anxiety. I don't think the needle has much to do with that, though.
"I'd say you can hold my hand, but I'm gonna need both of them," I joke. Then I get an idea and grab the towel, handing her the clean end. "You might want to bite down on this."
Jordan takes that advice and gives me a nod to indicate she's ready. I'm not. I've only done this twice before, and not in well over a year. But I portray the confidence I wish her to feel in my abilities and sink the needle into her skin before any hesitance can expose my act. She groans into the towel immediately, twisting the sheets in her hands, and my stomach turns. I make the quickest work I can of the two stitches while her vocalizations turn to whimpering and finally screaming, all sounds I'm very glad are muffled given the situation.
"All done," I inform her after tying off and snipping the surgical thread, pulling back to examine my work. Fresh tears brim in her eyes, but she nods gratefully.
Spitting out the towel, she gives me a genuine, "Thank you."
"You're welcome." I take some time to clean away the bloodstains on her face, waiting to see if her breathing steadies out. Once it does, and I determine her calm enough to be left alone, I raise an eyebrow and broach, "I have to go." Her face doesn't change, but I pick up on a slight shiver in her knee. Now hesitant, I take a second to consider some options. "Take the mattress to the other room if you need to, put it on the floor," I suggest. "There's safety in numbers."
"Is that allowed?" Her gray eyes flicker in question as I start to pack up the kit.
"No, but I'll fight anyone who tries to stop you. And don't worry," I add with a nod toward the Peacekeeper rooms. "He won't be bothering you again. I'll see to that."
After bidding her a gentle goodnight, I cross the dining room and make straight for the perpetrator's quarters. My firm knock is answered by a rough, "Come in."
Wrangling my sweaty hands into a new set of gloves, I enter the room and nod at the guy, who has the ice pack beside him on the quilt. "Here to check on your eye, Fields," I explain evenly.
One of his eyebrows creeps up. "Was hoping this was a social call, but okay," he smirks, eyeing up my pajamas. Heat and loathing tumble around in my gut, but I keep my face impassive as I place the kit on his nightstand and bend down to examine his injury. I've barely put my hands on him before he jokes, "You gonna kiss it better?"
At this point, I've had just about enough. Keeping my tone steady, I question him, "Just how many women do you need to fuck with in one night to make yourself feel better about your tiny excuse for a dick, Agent?"
The young man's cold blue eyes jump up to my fiery brown ones in disbelief. "What did you say?"
"You heard me."
The guy scoffs and shakes his face out of my grip, leaning back to squint at me crossly. "I didn't fuck with anyone. Bitch was eyeing me up all day. She wanted it."
"Yes, and this," I jab my fingers roughly against his bruised cheekbone, making him yelp, "is obvious proof of her desire for a sack of shit like you."
"You are way out of line, Agent," he warns me, pulling a piercing cackle out of my lips.
"Me?" I demand, my voice finally breaking with the emotion swelling in my chest. Before he can say alcoholic uncle, I've got my hands wrapped around his meaty neck. His eyes pop in surprise and he cocks his fist to fight back, but I grab his arm and twist it until he yelps again, giving me a sick but righteous kind of satisfaction.
"I don't know if you know this, but I was in the program," I growl lowly. Surprise registers in his already wide eyes, and I lean closer so he can smell the vicious promise in my breath. "And I swear to god, if you try anything like that ever again, I will fuck you up."
Fields struggles to bring a smirk to his strained lips. "I think I'd enjoy that," he chokes out, poorly attempting to quell the fear in his voice.
"No, you will not," I assure him through gritted teeth. "I'll rip your fucking throat out. Disembowel you, castrate you and hang your balls in the Square for all to see. If you're lucky, I'll kill you first." My fist tightens around his windpipe. "Have I made myself clear?"
His eyes dance with a stubborn refusal, so I twist his arm a little harder and, when he cries out in pain, yank him off the bed by the collar. Despite him being almost twice my size, I dump him on the ground with ease and land on top of him, a knee in his back and my other foot pinning his dominant hand to the floor. Cinching my hands around his neck again, I bellow, "Have I made myself perfectly fucking clear?!"
He nods his head desperately, and I drive his face into the ground as I push myself up by the hands. I start to leave, but as he begins to pull his knees under him and catch his wind, I turn back. "One more thing," I add, my voice low and authoritative again. "You will not so much as look at that girl for the remainder of this trip, do you understand?"
Coughing the breath back into his lungs, Fields shoots me a death glare and sneers, "Go fuck yourself, Mason."
"I just did," I retort, my flaming eyes narrowing with contempt. With that, I slam the door and storm back to my room, shaking with rage.
Getting back to sleep is no easy feat after that, with what I just saw and the memories it dredged up refusing to leave me in peace. I think I get a few hours before Cedric is knocking on my door again and telling me it's almost six. I'm really starting to hate his stupid face.
The rest of the trip is fairly uneventful, with only the two quick stops to unload some of our timber in the tech districts near the end of our journey home. Jordan seems to be in good hands, the two older and taller women now flanking her most of the time. The wounded miner's demeanor is a bit apprehensive when they all walk into the dining room the morning after the disturbance, her body tensing when she sees my suited up partner. But when I catch her eye, her posture loses a bit of its stiffness and her lips turn with a small smile. The other two women nod at me gratefully, so I guess she told them everything. I'm thankful not to have garnered the same reaction based solely on my uniform. Seems Darius was right about that, ever so long ago.
The train pulls into the station in Twelve just before midnight on Wednesday night, but we still have to drive the miners back to the Seam in the trucks that were left for us at the platform and then return the vehicles to the armory. My head doesn't hit the pillow until at least 12:30, not even five hours before I have to get up. I'm choked when I'm informed of Purnia's orders. Sometimes the COs will make exceptions for Peacekeepers returning from long trips and give them an extra day off to replace the ones they missed, but it turns out there's a couple people still sick, so there's no exception waiting for me. It crosses my mind that she may also be reinforcing the boundaries she tried to set with me, dispelling any notions of favoritism, which just makes me more bitter. Cedric's in the same boat, as apparently our shift's third in command shat the bed on Sunday and Purnia doesn't trust him to run another day in her absence. Cedric is one of those people who are only officers because of seniority, and he's one of the laziest Peacekeepers I know, but at least he knows what he's doing. Standing around and telling people what to do is quite suited to him.
Needless to say, I'm in a sour mood when I drag my weary bones out of bed in the morning and grab a huge coffee before slipping into the briefing room mere seconds before the meeting starts. Plopping down next to Athena, I brace my elbows on the table and rest my head in my hands.
"You look like hell," she observes, prompting a bit of side-eye from me.
"Cedric and I just got in around midnight. Didn't exactly have time for a beauty sleep." Nodding at our unkempt stand-in CO, I quip, "Can't you tell?"
My neighbor snickers, unfortunately just loudly enough to catch the attention of the man facing us. His tired eyes manage a half-assed glare. "Vargas, Mason."
"Sorry, sir," sweetly smiles Athena. Now it's me who has to try to hold in a snicker. Everything is funnier when you're sleep-deprived, granted, but she'd never normally address the lazy asshat that way. Except maybe in bed. That wouldn't surprise me. As I understand, she gets around as much as I do. Or would, in different circumstances.
Though still squinting unamusedly, all he says is, "School for you two." Making a note on his clipboard, he goes back to handing out assignments while I share a look with Athena. I've had worse assignments, and worse partners. I don't mind the lady so much on her own. It's the combination of her and Tory that drives me around the bend.
There's not much to do around the school so early in the day; it's south of the Seam and the mines, so there's no workers crossing through the area. It's an ideal opportunity for a nap, but thanks to my coffee I'm too jacked for that. When students start trickling into the vicinity around 8:15, it's a relief for my jittery ass. Sort of. The prospect of spotting Katniss in the crowds is at least half of what's got me on edge.
Athena and I split up, her taking the back of the building and me the front. Only the front doors are unlocked at this time, but placing a uniform in the schoolyard out back to monitor any kids coming from the west tends to minimize disturbances. Considering my hardly formidable height, I hop up on a stump to make my presence known.
About ten minutes later, with a few minutes to go and a throng of kids rushing for the doors, an anomaly catches my eye. A blond kid coming from the north. A quick squint confirms her identity, and my heart jumps into my throat as I scan the area for her older sister. There she is, a few feet behind Prim, hurrying to catch up. I feel my eyes glazing over and mouth slipping open, hear my heartbeat in my ears as I stare at the sight for sore eyes. An ache grows in my chest while I watch the Everdeens make their way to the doors, but I swallow and try to regain my composure. Not wanting to rouse suspicion, I don't approach, but I keep a surreptitious eye on my girlfriend. An eye she evidently feels, because as she and Prim reach the stairs, Katniss slows and turns her head my way.
Despite the stream of students pushing past her, her feet take root and her whole face slackens, eyes wide and bright. Battling the smile that wants to break onto my face, I give her a subtle little nod, one she's still too paralyzed to reciprocate. The blonde in front of her stops and looks back, follows her gaze over to me. I hardly notice, because I'm so focused on Katniss. Blinking a few times, the taller girl gulps and finally returns my nod just as Prim gives her sleeve a little tug and pushes up on her toes to whisper in her sister's ear.
From the way Katniss's eyes bulge and cheeks fill with color, not to mention Prim's fiendish grin, I can gather the general subject matter of what she must have said. The brunette's eyes level on her sister, and her mouth moves sharply with something that looks like either protest or an admonishment. It only makes Prim's smile grow, unsurprisingly. Embarrassing our pubescent siblings for their crushes is one of the few advantages of being the baby.
Gray eyes lock on me again and stay there for a couple seconds, even as their owner backs into a handrail and starts feeling her way up the steps. I have to fight off another smile, this one more along the line of Prim's, as I hold her gaze. She gives me one more fleeting nod before turning and climbing the few steps to the landing bordering the door, rubbernecking twice in the short time before she disappears. I understand. I didn't take my eyes off of her that whole time. I'm not sure I could have.
Resisting the temptation to search the schoolyard for Katniss during her lunchtime is difficult, but I force myself to be good. Approaching her would only draw undue attention our way, no matter what excuse I use to do so. I kill the time by shooting the shit with Athena while keeping half an eye on the nearby sixes.
Shortly after the painful forty minutes finally ends, I notice a school official exiting the nearest door close behind a group of exuberant sevens. He starts crossing the yard once he catches sight of us, so I punch my partner in the knee to get her attention. Like Mayor Undersee, the school officials are on the Capitol's payroll despite being district citizens, so they command a certain amount of respect. We both clamber off the concrete picnic table and stand to greet him.
"Hello, sir," she nods cordially. "Can we be of any help?"
"You could indeed, Agent," he replies. "We have a fifteen who's absent, didn't return for afternoon classes." I have to duck my head to hide my sudden affectionate grin. Either that's an impressive coincidence, or Katniss has gone to uncharacteristic lengths to get me alone. I can't say much about it, being the one who arrested her in the middle of the schoolyard.
"Truant?" asks Athena.
"Possibly," is his careful answer. "She may have just gone home sick, but if so, she failed to alert anyone. We need you to check on the situation and determine the legitimacy of her absence."
"I'll go look for her," I volunteer. I've never had to go chasing truants around before, since I rarely work the school, but I know standard procedure. One of us has to stay at our post, and if this is indeed Katniss, I know being hunted down by Athena is not what she had in mind. "Can you give me a name and description?"
"Katniss Everdeen," he says. "Five foot seven, athletic build, Seam features."
I don't miss Thena's little glance at me. She knows I'm friendly with the poacher, so pretending I don't know the name will only raise more red flags. But there are other things I can play dumb about.
"Any idea where I can find the kid?" I ask.
"I have her address here," he answers, handing me a piece of paper. "Southwest Seam. If she's not there, it's rumored she sometimes…" Cutting himself off, he glances away.
"Goes outside the fence?" I finish for him. His continued hesitance makes me wave him off. "We all buy from her. We know." Holding up the paper, I tell him, "I'll check here first, anyway. Thanks."
The Everdeen residence is a little more than a five-minute walk away, as I recall, but I make it in less than four. The cracked door catches my attention as I bound up the steps, so I push into the house without knocking. When I round the door, the first thing I see is Katniss shooting out of her seat at the kitchen table. As I shut us in and pull off my helmet, she strides across the floor to meet me at the threshold. Her hands fist my vest and hair, pressing me up against the wall as she assaults my lips viciously. She snatches my helmet away and haphazardly hangs it from one of their coat hooks, then places my now free hand on her waist. I obey, splaying both hands out on her hips while I strain upward to close the height gap our proximity is exaggerating.
"When did you get back?" she demands breathlessly, pulling back just a smidge.
"Late last night." The next few pecks are lazy. "Where's Mama Everdeen?"
"Don't know, don't care," she manages between escalating kisses, her hands running down my sides. Our lips may be tangled, but I can see her smile in her gleaming gray eyes. Her mouth moves out of my reach as she tips her forehead down to rest against mine. "Fuck, I've missed you."
"I missed you too," I whisper, palms cupping her cheeks. "So, so much. I just about lost my mind on that train."
"Was it a nice trip, at least?" she mumbles absentmindedly before leaving a few kisses under my jaw. "I wish I could see the rest of the country."
"I'd rather have been looking at you."
As they flit back up and linger on me, the girl's eyes take on a new intensity. Something I feel could consume me whole. She blinks it out of sight before speaking, but a telltale roughness remains in her voice.
"When I saw you this morning, I just…" Her focus seems to wane, and she has to blink herself back again. "I couldn't concentrate all morning. I had to see you. Alone, I mean."
"And this was your master plan?" I smirk. "You're lucky Athena would rather babysit the sevens than hunt down delinquents. If I'd been with a different partner-"
Katniss cuts me off with a kiss. "I knew you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me."
That's quite the declaration. Sure, I'll always protect her to the best of my ability, but it's not like I'm President Snow. Not even a Head, or an officer. Just a lowly Agent.
"You're usually more careful," I observe, cocking my head critically. "But you've been reckless lately. Kissing me in a public place, playing hooky. Twice."
"Playing hooky so I can kiss you somewhere other than a public place," she reasons, raising a pointed eyebrow. "One is more dangerous than the other."
"So much for staying out of trouble," I huff, but I can't help kissing her again. This may be sort of my own fault, anyway, because I jokingly encouraged her to play hooky on her birthday. But I'm working now, so this is different. She's put me in a situation here where I have to act. Oh, sure, I can make out with her a bit before dragging her back to the school, but that's not the point. She should know better. What if she were to pull something like this in a more sensitive situation? I need to establish some boundaries, nip this in the bud before she tries. "We should get back."
Breaking our liplock, she kisses her way over to my ear and husks, "What are you gonna do, Agent? Forcibly apprehend me?"
My eyelashes flutter against her cheek as I regain my faculties. "What?"
"Because you might have to." Katniss sasses me, curling her hand around my neck to pull me back to her lips. Something that's half laugh, half scoff comes out of my lips as I acquiesce. Of course, she has to push it with a smug little, "Didn't think so."
It takes a mere heartbeat for me to duck under her arm and spin behind her, wrenching the arm with me and trapping it between us as I pin her to the wall with my body. "Maybe I will," I purr.
"Ow!" she protests. "Easy, Johanna." As she starts to struggle, I nab her other wrist and pin it next to her ear, then push up against her a little harder. Her breath catches, only egging me on.
"You calling me easy?" When I purposefully grind my hips forward, she responds with a poorly muffled groan, and I break into a grin. "Still a turn off?" I whisper, flitting my tongue forward to trace over her earlobe. I barely dodge the ensuing headbutt attempt, jerking my head out of the way in an instant. "Feisty," I observe cheekily. "Don't make me get rough with you, Everdeen."
"Fuck you," she growls, but the rasp of arousal is clear in her tone.
"Some other time, babe," I tease. "I'm on the clock." Peeling her off the wall, I turn her ninety degrees and nudge her toward the door. She turns around defiantly and barely has time to look at me with bewildered, darkened eyes before I instruct her, "Let's go. You'll get in more trouble if I have to drag you back in handcuffs."
"You just try," Katniss retorts huskily, grabbing me by the vest again and yanking me back into her grasp. Her kisses are insistently forceful now, punctuated by breathless grunts and gasps for air. I'm so surprised and aroused, I can't bring myself to intervene, only return the actions. During a particularly heated kiss, one of her hands snaps open the buckle at the bottom of my breastplate, allowing her the room to slip her hands under and caress my waist, thumbs grazing my stomach. That's when my brain starts working again and I grip her wrists, dragging her hands away.
"I'm serious," I insist, retrieving my helmet and securing my armor with finality. "It's my job to bring you back. And if I don't do my job, I'll get in shit."
Her scoff can't hide how flustered she is when she argues, "Can't you just tell them I'm sick?"
"I can't play favorites," I reply simply. "Athena knows we're friends. It might look suspicious." As I step closer, I cross my arms and eye her gravely. "And I can't let this affect my work, remember?"
"Right," she huffs, a shadow crossing her face. "Loyalty to the Capitol."
Guiding her out the door, I state, "It's what'll keep us alive."
It's hard for me to keep up with her large, sour steps once we get going, but I manage by keeping mine fast to the point that it's almost embarrassing. "Oh, now you're in a hurry?" I sass her. Her only response is a half-hearted glare over her shoulder, so I bump her ribs with my forearm. "Come over tonight," I urge her. "We'll make up for lost time, I promise."
Katniss doesn't respond, so I just shrug it off like it doesn't bother me and lift my radio to my lips. "Vargas, I'm heading back to our post. ETA four minutes."
My neighbor's voice crackles out of the speaker. "Roger that, Mason. Did you locate the truant?"
"Affirmative," I say, casting a look at Katniss, who rolls her eyes. "I have the kid in custody."
Thanks to D7P for her help and patience. Thanks to all the readers for your patience, too. Real life stuff is sadly stealing a fair chunk of my writing time these days.