scheiGuy- Hehehe, you're very welcome. Rolence? That has to be the weirdest mash up of two words I've heard in a while. Therefore, I shall use it in daily conversation from this day forward. Thank you.

sundragons9- I'm glad I have some pro-Katniss readers like you to even things out.

CupcakeSprinkles14- Yes! Reunion! Clove is pretty feisty. She's gotta represent district 2 and she does it with spunk.

abugsaunt- If you love when I tease (which is all I seem to do), you won't ever be disappointed lol. I think Cato could definitely ruin plenty of tender moments with his brutish ways, but Peeta knows how Cato is and I think he'd handle it just fine. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Oh, and I'm just about to read your story now. I'm excited!

Mhardman- I'm pleased you like it. All things must come to an end eventually, but I definitely have more of this story to tell so I'll be here for a bit longer!

Pale Is The New Tan- Wait no more! Here it is! I've been waiting for these two to finally have some privacy to talk for once too ;)

Abysslullaby- I suppose it would be pretty cruel of me to have them go down in some epic melee battle in the confines of 13 after all they've been through. I won't do it, just for you ;) Thanks again for helping me with my military terms.

MangoMagic- I feel bad for making you all wait so long for them to meet (I say this with a devilish grin and a witch cackle as I type it).

Momo42- "I'm Mellark. Peeta Mellark." Hahaha, yes! I'm glad you recognized me for what I am... a tease. Pure and simple. But I think you joined in on this torture fest at a good time.

Cato remembered exactly where the infirmary was from the tour and since it was so late, he didn't run into too many people. He entered the swinging doors to the hospital ward and scanned the long run of beds till he spotted his boy.

Peeta was sitting with his legs crossed on the hospital bed wearing a fitted white tee and blue pajama pants. The younger boy was cleaned up now, his hair still damp. He was nonchalantly talking with Boggs and Mitchell while a nurse was placing a bandage over his sutured arm. It still seemed to leak a drop or two of crimson between the stitches. Cato cautiously approached until Peeta glanced his way and froze. Boggs and Mitchell immediately spun around to see what caused the boy to stiffen and scowled when they saw the Career.

"What do you want, 2?" Boggs barked. "Yeah, we know who you are. We watched the games. Come to try and finish what you and your little pack couldn't do in the arena?"

"No, I'm not," Cato defended. "because I'm not in the arena anymore, dipshit. I've just come to talk to Peeta."

"About what?" both soldiers simultaneously snapped.

"None of your fucking business. I said I've come to talk to him. Not you two assholes," Cato scowled.

Peeta interrupted the ridiculous bickering. "Guys, it's fine. Let the little potty mouth stay."

Boggs and Mitchell apprehensively gave in, but Mitchell stood before Cato and warned, "I don't want to hear you speaking to him the way you just spoke to us or you'll find your stay here in 13 very unpleasant." The two soldiers begrudgingly stomped off, looking back to send last minute glares at the Career as he approached the boy on the bed.

"Those two soldiers are crazy protective of you," Cato began.

"Yeah, they are. I've known them since I was little," Peeta replied. "They're the ones that trained me for years to be a soldier. The taller one is Boggs and the other is Mitchell. They're my team and we look out for each other. Plus, this is their turf so they deserve some respect. This must all seem a little overwhelming to you."

"Hmm, definitely," Cato agreed. "Although I have to say I knew something was up with you. From the moment you were reaped, you were anything but a typical district 12 tribute."

"I guess so," Peeta smirked. "You must be pretty angry with me though."

"Angry?" Cato questioned.

"Well, yeah. I kinda threw a wrench in your quest to be victor. I mean, isn't that what you always wanted; to be a victor of the Hunger Games?"

"I did. But only because I've always known from day one, I'd be expected to volunteer. And if you don't become a victor then, that means by default you died, and dying was never a goal of mine," Cato replied sarcastically.

"I know that," Peeta chided. "I meant that you've trained your whole life for that moment. You have to be at least a little pissed off."

"Peeta, I trained my whole life for the games because that's just what you do in district 2. The paradigm there is to do whatever it takes to bring honor to your family and district; to make something great of yourself. Becoming a victor is the best way to do that. It's really the only opportunity the Capitol gives us. That's just the way life is in district 2. But now that everyone is rebelling, things could change. If the Capitol is overthrown, there could become a new paradigm. We could have lots of new opportunities to become something great; become whatever we want to be. I can't really be angry at you for that."

Peeta smiled and Cato couldn't help noticing the younger boy's visible relief at his statement. "What do you care if I'm angry at you anyway?" Cato skeptically inquired. "Are you really that concerned with what I think of you?"

Peeta looked away and nervously rolled the hospital sheets through his fingers. "Lately, I've found myself caring a great deal about what you think of me," he sheepishly confessed. "I know I shouldn't. And I've done a pretty good job this whole time of pushing it aside. I think we both can admit that I've been a tease."

"You weren't teasing me 12, you were fucking torturing me and you know it," Cato growled low as his eyes narrowed at the boy on the bed. He was starting to lose his temper… as usual. "You never intended on being with me. In fact you made it a mission of yours to rub it in my face!"

"Well, what did you expect me to do?" Peeta spit back. "You're a Career. You and your pack were on a bloodthirsty mission to kill me. Do really think you have the right to be pissed that I didn't submit to you? Sorry that I didn't have a death wish. No matter what I feel, I would never just bend over and let someone fuck me, just for them to slit my throat when they were finished," he hissed at the boy standing above him.

Cato actually backed off a little, looking ashamed. He knew Peeta was right. They had been in a fight to the death in which only one could keep his life. Peeta had every right to use whatever tricks he could to give him an advantage to survive. Don't hate the player. Hate the game. And right now, with the way Peeta was scolding him, and the way everything between them was so screwed up, Cato really hated the game.

There was a lot of bitterness coursing through Cato at the moment, but Peeta didn't notice. He was too busy getting himself worked up at the thought that Cato had actually just expected Peeta to give himself over and then be slaughtered. The young rebel wasn't finished with his rant. He still had more to say to that brute.

"I'm not afraid to die, Cato, but I've always hoped that when that time came, I would go out with dignity, not hunched over in the dirt with my pants around my ankles," Peeta scorned the boy.

"You're right," Cato blurted. "You deserve so much better than that."

"Everyone deserves better than that," Peeta amended, calming down a bit after Cato admitted understanding. "That's why the games have to stop. The way kids like us are being murdered; they just don't deserve for it to end like that. I'm not sorry for all the Capitol people I've killed, but I am haunted by those tributes from 9 I killed at the bloodbath. I did it in self defense, but still, they were just fighting to live. Just like I was. I feel horrible about it. I certainly didn't enjoy killing them like I know you and your pack did."

"That's how Careers are raised, Peeta!" Cato defended himself. "We've been instilled with the notion to 'kill or be killed.' Every death meant we were one step closer to living and every death was an attest to our power. Power is everything in our districts. It's all we've ever known. So yeah, killing those kids didn't make me feel bad at all. That's how I and Clove and the other Careers were programmed. I can't just switch it off."

"That's too bad," Peeta mournfully spoke. "You must have been foaming at the mouth then at the sheer prospect of killing me in the arena."

"No, I wasn't," Cato confessed. "Honest. Besides Clove, you were the one tribute out of the entire games I wasn't looking forward to killing. I actually caught myself a couple of times wondering what it would be like if we weren't in the games. But I always snapped myself out of it and just hoped that I'd at least get to have what I could of you before you died. But I promise, I didn't look forward to killing you."

"Why not?" Peeta asked. "Why me?"

It was now or never for Cato. What did he have to lose by being honest? He took a deep breath and began. "Ever since the tribute parade, you've been driving me crazy. Apart from the obvious reasons that you're skilled and smokin' hot, there was also this air of mystery surrounding you. Who is this boy? He's no run-of-the-mill tribute. Where did he learn to fight like that? What is his deal? I kept telling myself that the real reason I was so obsessed with you was because I just didn't understand you. I told myself that once I found out what you were all about, the relentless intrigue would go away and I could kill you. And now I know. You're a fuckin' rebel soldier; an operative for the ghost district 13. My questions have been answered and yet it hasn't changed a damn thing. I still want you, Peeta."

Peeta blushed at the declaration. He knew it was best to still guard himself against a boy like Cato. He was a Career after all. The brute admitted to not batting an eye when it came to killing innocent kids. That was not the type of person to let yourself fall for, but Peeta could tell Cato was telling the truth. And there was something about the Career's rare moment of vulnerability that Peeta found incredibly sexy. If Cato truly was being honest and if he was no longer a threat to Peeta's life, the young baker didn't see why he needed to fight the urges anymore. Peeta acknowledged the spark he felt whenever he was around Cato. He believed the Career simply wanted him in his bed and Peeta couldn't deny that he had wanted to be in Cato's bed on quite a few occasions himself. He didn't see the harm in those thoughts anymore without the threat of the Hunger Games looming over them.

"Well, we're not in the arena anymore," Peeta informed the taller blonde of the obvious. "Are you still planning on killing me?"

"No, there's no need to now. It's honestly the last thing I'd want to do to you," Cato truthfully admitted.

"Well then, I feel like it's time now to stop leading you on," Peeta looked up at Cato with a gleam in his eye. "I'm not being forced to play anymore sadistic games. If you still want me, then take me."

Cato's eyes grew wide as he stared intently at the younger blonde on the gurney. "Are, Are you serious? Peeta, quit playing your fucking mind games with me."

"I told you I'm not playing games anymore. We're not in the arena. The Capitol no longer controls us. None of us have to die now. I don't see why we can't make the most of these fortunate circumstances." Peeta purred as he slid his hand up Cato's clothed chest.

Cato was pumped. "Where?" he asked. "Right here?" He couldn't help but stare at Peeta's injured arm.

"My arm's fine," Peeta spoke. "They stitched it up and gave me some painkillers. I'm free to leave the infirmary. Why don't I go with you to check out your new bunk compartment?"

AHHHHHH! WHY AM I SUCH A TEASE! I promise though, just like Peeta, this is where my tormenting ends. I just couldn't help but do it one more time. Don't worry, I'm not gonna do that thing where I cut straight to the next morning and skip all the good stuff. That drives me nuts. In fact, I cut it off here because I wanted to dedicate the entire next chapter to their "fun." Warning, if you don't like graphic slash, then I think this is where my fanfic ends for you...