"if you put on that fucking cd i will kick you in the dick."

marvel snorts with laughter, cheerfully oblivious to the fact that cato is, in fact, deadly serious, and reaches forward to press the eject button. "it's a good album!" marvel protests, and cato - with both hands busy, one on the wheel and the other holding his milkshake - is rendered powerless and can only watch, mortified, as marvel swaps black holes and revelations for i am... sasha fierce.

cato takes a deep breath and wonders how flexible he'll have to be to lift his leg over the gear stick and stamp down on marvel's crotch hard enough to leave him unable to have kids, ever.

"i could deal if it was disk one, marvel, but it's not. it's disk two." gloss sighs forlornly from where he's sprawled across all three back seats, his head leaning against one window and his feet hanging out of the other, scrolling absently through his instagram feed. "you're both wrong," marvel says adamantly as he presses play, "single ladies is a bop." cato disagrees whole-heartedly, but he's had this argument before and knows he won't win; marvel would probably die for beyonce (and has stated many times he would definitely kill for her).

cato grits his teeth but doesn't say anything, and tries his very hardest to block out the sound of marvel bellowing along to the cd. he manages to sit through 'single ladies' and 'radio' without yelling at his friends - marvel, for his dumb dancing and off-tune singing, and gloss for recording the entire thing for his snapchat story. the clock on his car radio reads ten past eight and, really, it's too early for this. what's more, marvel made him drive all the way to mcdonalds for a shitty, sugar-filled milkshake and so now there's no chance they'll be able to make it to starbucks in time - meaning cato has to go without his morning coffee. (gloss had pointed out he could get coffee from mcdonalds but frankly, cato was offended that his friend would even think of comparing a skinny iced mocha to 'the flat white'.) and now marvel is enthusiastically gesticulating along to beyonce, throwing his arms out and nearly hitting cato in the face. (gloss had also mentioned that maybe a milkshake in the morning wasn't the best thing for marvel - who had replied he was seventeen, he can handle his sugar, he's not a child for christ sake! cato regrets ever believing him.)

but cato draws the line when 'diva' comes on and gloss joins in.

"oh for fucks sake gloss, shut up." cato groans. his eyes flick up to the mirror where he sees gloss feigning offense.
"are you gon' be talking shit? you act like i just got up in it; been the number one diva in this game for a minute!" gloss obnoxiously sings instead, and cato makes a decision. he pulls over in a nearby café parking lot. "marvel if you don't break the cd i'm kicking you out of my car. you can walk." marvel immediately stops singing.
"what?" he screeches, and gloss lets out a gleeful cackle at his friend's pain. cato twists round sharply in his seat to point an accusing finger at him.
"oh-ho-ho, don't you think you're getting out of this, you're just as bad as him! if he doesn't break it - you both walk."

he takes immense satisfaction in the way their mouths hang open, eyes wide in disbelief at the ultimatum. silence hangs in the car, broken only by the track playing in the background - and cato's phone vibrating in his pocket.

he angrily fishes it out and goes to skim over the text message that appears on his screen, ignoring the outraged squawks from his friends that erupt suddenly at his demands.

[08:13, glimmer:] hiya cato xo
[08:13, cato:] sup glimmer what do u want
[08:13, glimmer:] cloves phone actually b!

cato scoffs down at his screen. clove's phone? why would he have clove's phone? "cato we have come to the decision that we would rather walk than break our lord and saviors gift to us-"
"what? no! shut up marvel you knob, cato, although i think you're hugely overreacting - we are definitely going to break the cd don't listen to him."
"excuse me?!" a scandalized gasp escapes marvel.
"dude he's not even listening."

[08:15, cato:] don't have it
[08:15, glimmer:] well she's lost it nd last place she had it was ur car sooooooooooooo
[08:16, cato:] fine i'll check
[08:16, glimmer:] thx b!
[08:16, cato:] don't call me that
[08:16, glimmer:] soz b

"-i mean really, who keeps cds anymore? personally, i think it's your fault for-"
"marvel i do not care anymore, put the radio on i don't give a fuck, can you just-"
"ha! i don't have to snap it!"
"no, but can you-"
"i wasn't going to anyway, i would rather walk."
"still don't care, can you-"
"i feel like physically, i'm me, but spiritually? i'm blue ivy. gloss, you would so be rumi."
"that literally does not make sense she is an infant."
"yeah, but like spiritually."
"you can't tag yourself as beyonce's children!"
"i so can!"
"marvel!"

marvel turns to cato, sighing. "i'm in the middle of a conversation." cato reminds himself to take deep breaths.

"could you check the side of your seat? clove thinks she left her phone in here." cato winces as soon as he says the last part. he could have said any other girl and they wouldn't have questioned it - he's an idiot. gloss and marvel's eyebrows shoot to their hairlines. "clove kentwell?" gloss splutters.
"why the fuck would you have kentwell's phone?!" marvel yells, "what were you doing with her?"
"cato you cannot have sex with the enemy!" gloss scolds, and cato lets out a groan.

"i did not have sex with kentwell, that's disgusting. she needed a lift." marvel makes a 'carry on' motion with his hand, and then frowns when there's no further explanation. "that's it? she needed a lift? so what! let that bitch walk!" cato pinches the bridge of his nose.
"glimmer asked me to." marvel's hand drops at the mention of his lifelong crush.

gloss catches cato's eye in the mirror and flashes him a knowing smile. cato narrows his eyes in a warning and then turns away. they are not going to talk about this now.

"is it there or not, marv?" marvel sticks his hand down the side of his seat and rummages around for the phone. he pulls a face.
"bro you so need to clean your car, there's a shit ton of wrappers down here and- was that a condom? oh my god, that was a condom."

gloss bursts out laughing at that, but marvel eventually pulls his hand back up, alongside a phone. before he has the chance to say anything, cato snatches it from his grasp and turns it on. on the screen, a string of texts flash up.

[tuesday, 17:23, unknown number:] hey dickwad i'm using my aunts phone bc i left mine in ur car
[tuesday, 17:23, unknown number:] so like
[tuesday, 17:23, unknown number:] if ur still in ur car i want it back
[tuesday, 17:23, unknown number:] dickwad

cato snickers and turns the phone off, before gloss reaches forwards and taps him on the shoulder. "uh, i hate to tell you but because of marvel's dicking around, we are extremely late."

/

cato swaggers into maths with gloss by his side ten minutes after the lesson was supposed to start, but mr abernathy just rolls his eyes, not even bothering to pause the video he has playing. marvel being marvel is a good few classes below gloss and cato, who in turn aren't actually top set, either. their class is pretty much the bright kids who are kind of average because they all just piss about too much. and although he's failing, cato loves maths because it's all his friends crammed into one class.

he slides into his seat at the back next to finnick, who bumps his fist in greeting. next to finnick, jo is chewing gum loudly and texting quite obviously, but if their teacher notices he obviously doesn't give a shit. "sup." she drawls, not looking up from tapping away on her phone. in front of him, gloss sits in between gale and peeta and immediately joins in launching paper balls across the classroom, whisper-shouting "ball is life!" every time one lands in the bin.

he feels red-hot daggers being glared in his direction but doesn't look away from where he's staring straight ahead, a smirk plastered on his face.

"practice at lunch?" finnick asks and cato nods in agreement.
"gotta be looking in top condition for that photoshoot, man." finnick grins at him and then nods over in clove's direction, on the other side of the classroom but still on the back row. "speaking of, she's been looking ready to murder you ever since we all heard your car pull up." cato glances across at clove. she's sat, sitting back in her chair with her arms folded defensively, the permanent frown that resides on her face looking particularly deep. next to her, katniss is leaning across the aisle to talk with johanna.

the door flies open and in strides their principal, ms trinket. she glides to the front of the room and, like every time he sees her, cato is amazed that she hasn't fallen over in those impossibly high heels. mr abernathy scrambles to his feet and turns up the volume on the video he has playing, so the conversation the two teachers have isn't heard. not that anyone wants to hear their math teacher tell their principal how hot she looks, but apparently mr abernathy and ms trinket are under the impression everyone in the school is visually impaired and has no idea about their "secret" relationship.

"clover," cato sings, finally twisting in his seat to face and acknowledge the scowling girl whilst his math teacher is distracted. he chuckles at how she rolls her eyes, but is not expecting her to rise to her feet and march over to him. "why, clover, to what do i owe this pleasure?" he takes in her black, nike drawstring shorts and her loose-fitting grey tank top, paired with a black denim jacket and her black trainers. cato thinks it's very funny to see clove next to glimmer, who normally wears pinks, whites, yellows and blues and who, unlike her best friend, spends more than two minutes picking out her outfit every morning. still, it's not like cato wants to see clove dressed up, it was weird enough seeing her at glimmer's party wearing both a dress and makeup. she had looked extremely uncomfortable that night. well, when she was sober at least - but cato doesn't really want to think about saturday night.

now all she's looking is annoyed, a look cato is all too familiar with. "cut the crap," clove snarls, crossing her arms over her chest, "give me my phone." cato cocks an eyebrow and grins up at her, but reaches into his pocket and holds her phone out. clove eyes it warily. "what, that's it?" cato chuckles and waves the phone at her.
"don't worry, i haven't like, bugged it or anything. no viruses." clove glares at him but snatches her phone and stalks back to her seat.

cato doesn't think he'll ever forget clove's horrified expression when she opens her phone to an explicit video on full volume. in fact, he thinks the detention they both get - clove for blasting porn in front of their principal and cato for cry-laughing even when said principal is telling him off - is worth it.

authors note

shorter chapter than last time and its also kind of a filler so sorry for that :/ but im excited for this i have some ideas! &this is pretty self indulgent lmao sorry not sorry, i hope u like marvel as a beyonce stan as much as i do! also, gloss, finnick, jo etc have all been aged down.

lizzie(: