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Ch. 12- The Rebel
The district was starving. The mines still weren't open. Almost a full month had passed since the explosion at the Hob and Gale's whipping, but still the Capitol inflicted their punishment on the innocent like they had openly incited a rebellion yesterday. An air of desperation settled over the District like a foul smog. The longer it hung in the air the more it filled their lungs and seeped into their brains. People were being driven to extreme measures to survive, but opportunities were severely limited with the fence electrified at all hours now. Lines of woman, some as shockingly young as twelve, began building outside the male Peacekeeper's homes waiting and hoping for a chance to sell themselves for a bit of money or food. Children with distended bellies became an all too common sight. A few have even resorted to suicide to escape.
Peeta tried his best to keep those closest too him from feeling the full effects of the starvation. With his winnings he was able to keep food on their tables and hope in their hearts. But with each passing day hope never gave way to a better day. Primrose was distraught to find one morning that her goat Lady had been stolen and was now probably someone's dinner. Gale had moved in with Peeta like he planned, but now it was on Peeta's insistence so he could help nurse him back to full health. It was a long and painful few weeks for Gale as the wounds on his back healed. The herbal paste Mrs. Everdeen had concocted did wonders for helping speed up the healing process, but the scabs itched something fierce and created limited mobility for Gale for almost a week straight.
During that time Darius disappeared from public view. Many assumed Romulus dealt with him personally, wanting to mitigate any future scandals that might be the last push the District needed to an all out rebellion. It was a precarious game everyone played as the District balanced at the precipice of war and death. Peeta wasn't sure where he fit into that game anymore, everyone around him continued to get hurt no matter what he did.
Most days it was just Gale and Peeta. Prim and her mom would stop by every now and then, to check up on their patient and to socialize with Peeta. Haymitch kept to himself the closer it got to the Reaping. He was suffering some pretty rough withdrawals due to the Hobs destruction and thus his only source for white liquor. He wasn't a pleasant person on most days, but now it was even worse and everyone gave him a wide berth.
Living with Gale was nothing like Peeta expected. Obviously he hadn't thought he'd spend most of it playing caretaker to a recuperating Gale, but on top of that he never had to share his home with anyone other than family. At first he reverted back to his quiet, submissive self out of habit. When he lived with his brothers and Mother it was best to just go unnoticed and roll over when they were in a mood. But sharing a house with Gale, a true friend, was nothing like having to share a room with his two vindictive brothers. Gale was the perfect roommate; conscientious and courteous and desperate to pull his own weight, which led to a blow out fight one night because his back still wasn't healed enough to be doing chores around the house. Peeta wasn't about to let him reinjure himself just because he wanted to pick up around the bedroom. Gale's stubbornness made it a long night, but Peeta managed to get his way—mostly. But if Peeta didn't keep his eye on Gale he'd find a chore done that shouldn't have been. In the end it was just best to turn a blind eye as long as they were little chores and not the heavy lifting.
It was an interesting experience, sharing a home with someone other than family. Peeta learned a lot about himself over the course of the month with Gale that he never really knew. Like how he really enjoyed cooking when he had someone to do it for or just how much more content he was having someone in the house. It was crushingly lonely spending most of his days in an empty house and just the knowledge that there was someone else in it with him put his nerves at ease. He also learned a lot about Gale that he'd never noticed before. Like how he had the habit of chewing his fingernails when bored and that he often talked under his breath to himself when thinking. The little quirks only endeared him more to his friend. It felt nice to be able to know someone so intimately and have them know him in return; like how Gale knew to distract Peeta with stories when he quiet grew because otherwise he'd be trapped by the dark thoughts that swarmed his brain like an invasion of summer cicadas.
It was the day before the Reaping and there was really nothing either of them could do to take their minds off it as they tried to watch the television. It hung in the back of their minds like an unwanted guest who'd greatly overstayed her welcome. There was no way to get rid of it and ignoring it wasn't a possibility. On top of it all Peeta hadn't heard from Cato in weeks and with the Reaping tomorrow he couldn't help but let his fears get the best of him. What did it mean? Was Cato done trying to make them work? Had something happened? Or was he just trying to minimize the pain if one of them were to be sent back into the Arena? There was no way to get answers and Peeta grew irrationally irate, standing in a huff and throwing the remote at the television.
"Peeta?"
Gale came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and a question on his face, stopping Peeta's march from the room. Peeta deflated just as quickly as the anger had flared inside him. He was acting childish and he knew it.
"Sorry, I just couldn't listen to that crap anymore."
"I know it's all sickening. They act like nothings wrong. Like everything is perfect in the world and we're not starving and fighting for out lives out here." Gale nodded in understanding before taking a large gulp of water. Peeta watched his Adam's apple work against his throat as he swallowed.
Peeta shook his head to clear it and leaned back against the doorjamb they stood in.
"I'm just so tired of it all, Gale. When will it end?"
Gale wiped some moisture from his upper lip across the back of his hand. Peeta stole the glass of water from him and finished it off, suddenly parched.
"I don't know. It's all so fucked up. They live in luxury in the Capitol I can't even imagine, taking what they want from us —what they think they're entitled to—and give nothing back. They take and take and take, our kids, our food, our resources; they'd bleed us dry if it gave them benefits. We mean nothing to them and yet everything. With out us—"
"There'd be no them." Peeta finished for Gale. He stood ramrod straight as an idea suddenly blossomed forth in his mind. It had always been there, but never taken seriously. Not until now. But it should have come sooner. Hadn't he already made this decision once before, back in the games?
"I'll be back, I—I just have to see Haymitch real quick."
"Okay," Gale shrugged and moved towards the couch, careful not to lean on his still sore back.
Surprised, Peeta found Haymitch in his backyard. He was on his back, one behind his head the other fiddling with a dandelion against his chest, while staring up at the sky. It was a disconcerting image. It wasn't often that Peeta found Haymitch in a relaxed position, seemingly daydreaming, while outside. Peeta was afraid to disturb him, but of course he already had.
"Afternoon, Peeta."
His eyes never left the azure sky. Peeta wondered what he was contemplating. Things like a rebellion and a better Panem? Or maybe a lost love? There were so many things Peeta didn't know about this man that he had so quickly come to love and respect.
"You doing okay?"
"Humph, okay. That's a very subjective word, but I guess ya could say so. I'm no longer suffering night sweats and the debilitating urge to drink."
He stood from the lawn, brushing off the grass that clung to his back.
"You came to visit for a reason? Other than that the Reaping is tomorrow."
"It kind of has to do with that." Peeta took a deep breath. He thought of taking their conversation elsewhere, somewhere more private, but the houses were probably under surveillance. Outdoors seemed safest for now. So he laid it all out in one rushed breath. "I want to start a rebellion."
Haymitch stared at Peeta for a minute like he hadn't said anything at all before the corner of his lip twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile, but instead he shook his head.
"You don't know what you want."
"That's not true." Peeta bristled indignantly. Haymitch knew nothing of what he did or did not want. He knew nothing of the defiance that lived deep in his bones and constantly thwarted his more rational motivations of compliance to the Capitol. "People are dying. More are going to die soon. Eight has already rebelled—"
"—How do you know this?"
"It doesn't matter." Peeta spoke, growing more animated by the minute. "More could be ready to fight right now or they're just waiting for someone like me to make a stand. Something needs to change!"
Haymitch's eyes shifted about before settling on Peeta's. His stare was deeply penetrative and Peeta grew uncomfortable under it. Actually he was starting to feel nauseous and light headed, like he had suddenly jumped to his feet and the blood in his head had yet to follow. The collar of his shirt was too tight around his neck and he tugged at it needing more airflow.
Haymitch took a breath in preparation before he spoke. "If this is what you really want there is something I should—Peeta?"
Haymitch's voice distorted like he was shouting from the end of a long tunnel. The world spun and then all Peeta saw was blue as he hit the ground. Finally everything went black and silent.
Peeta came to in his bedroom surround by worried faces. Gale was seated in a chair right by the bed, his face inches from Peeta anxiously inspecting him. Haymitch stood off to the side with an uneasy expression settled into the wrinkles of his face and then Prim was stationed at the foot of his bed with a mug of herbal smelling tea.
"Uh, what's going on?"
"You don't remember?" Haymitch asked; eyes sharp like a hawk.
"You fainted!" Gale said a little strangled. "Haymitch said you were talking outside when you got this vacant stare and then just tipped backwards, rigid like a plank of wood."
"I—I don't remember…" Peeta tried to think back on this morning and it was all just a fuzzy memory. "I don't remember anything after lunch. Is something wrong with me?"
Prim shook her head and moved forward, pushing Gale back from the bed to hand Peeta the tea. It had a strong bitter smell.
"It's probably just an effect of the fainting spell. You're stressing too much about tomorrow. Drink this, it'll renew you," Prim said all professional. It never ceased to surprise him how natural she was with this stuff. It had to be from all those years of watching her mother work.
"But what if it is something? Haymitch!" Gale stood and marched over to him, grabbing his arm. "You've got to call in a doctor from the Capitol. He needs a proper check up!"
Haymitch heaved a sigh carding a hand through his long hair.
"The Reaping is tomorrow, there's nothing they'll do."
Peeta was beginning to worry Gale was right. Maybe something was wrong. Things had been weird for a few months, small things that maybe if he strung them together in the proper order would mean something. But at the moment he didn't have the frame of mind or proper context to put it together. He started scrabbling at the sheets, trying to climb out when Prim threw out an arm against his chest to stop him.
"You need to rest and Gale you need to leave. You're not helping Peeta right now, you're just getting him worked up." Prim spoke in a demanding tone that left no room for questioning. Her stare was as fierce as Katniss's and Gale quickly agreed in the face of it, bowing his head and backing out.
"Sorry, you're right. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
Both Haymitch and Gale left the room after that and Prim settled into the empty chair next to the bed. She had a bright smile planted back on her face and a twinkle in her olive eyes.
"What?"
"Oh nothing."
It didn't seem like nothing to Peeta. She was smiling over something, but she soon turned quietly thoughtful.
"So what's up?"
"Huh?" Peeta cocked his head in confusion. Prim smirked before pushing at his hand that held the tea. He took another big sip and he had to admit he was feeling better. The warm liquid calmed his stomach and cleared the fog from his brain, although he still couldn't remember much after lunch with Gale.
"How are things with Cato?"
"Fine—" Peeta chocked off at the end of the word. He couldn't even begin to lie about it and so he threw back the rest of the tea before twisting in the bed to face Prim, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. "Okay that's a lie. Things are far from fine." A plaintive sigh escaped his throat. Was she the appropriate person to talk to about this? "I haven't heard from Cato in weeks. I just want to know what's going on. Is he okay? Are we?" Peeta flung his hands about in exasperation, deciding she had seen more than he had at her age and relationship drama was the least of it. "What if he is done with me and that's how he's choosing to end it, just by cutting me out. I know things are difficult for him in Two because of me and I wouldn't blame him for cutting me loose. I'm probably more trouble than it's worth…"
Prim just sat and listened. She didn't interrupt or try to assuage him of his fears. She just gave him her undivided attention and it was actually a relief to finally get it all off his chest. He could have told Gale, but it didn't seem like something he could talk about. They never really talked about Cato when together.
"Do you still want to be together?"
"Yes, of course! But…" Peeta couldn't look her in the eyes as he thought this. He was ashamed of these thoughts, but they couldn't be helped. "But I just wonder are… are we meant to last?"
Prim said nothing. She just kept looking at Peeta. There was no judgment, just patience as she waited for him to continue speaking.
"I mean I want us to last. I still love him, but I can't help but wonder if this is how it should be. Should it be this hard? It's been so long since I've seen him and we were together so short a period of time. Would we even be able to make it work long term in person? Is he even the same person? Who am I anymore? A rebel, a lover, a leader or a pawn? I don't know!" His fist slammed down against the mattress in frustration. "The only thing I do know is he was the first person I ever loved, but does that necessarily mean he'll be the last? We don't even know what it's like to be with each other every day, what if we don't work together. We only know fighting to survive and so what if we could be together, in person and just living life. Would that be enough? There are so many what ifs in my mind and I don't know the answer to any of them. We've been in a relationship for almost a year now and there is so much I don't know about him. So many little things you learn that only comes with being with someone everyday."
"Like with you and Gale?" Prim asked and it was like a ton of bricks had just been dropped on top of him. All his breath was expelled from his lungs and he was at a loss for what to say. He just gaped at her like some fish out of water, mouth slowly opening and closing. "You two have spent almost every day together for the last month and then every afternoon and Sunday before that. You must know all sorts of the 'little things' about him."
She looked at Peeta keenly, but with out demands. Peeta tried to think of a reply, but there was nothing he could say. He didn't even know what she was getting at, but it troubled him. She smiled softly and rose, dusting off her jeans out of habit before saying there was more tea downstairs and to keep drinking it. Then she left to spend the evening with her mother before the Reaping tomorrow. It felt like a goodbye, even though they were both willfully ignoring it because a goodbye meant too many things they couldn't think about. Not now. Not yet.
Peeta hadn't necessarily avoided Gale the rest of that day so much as isolated himself in the bedroom. The hours seemed to be slipping away right before his very eyes and the more he tried to hold on to them the faster they fell through his fingers. Soon it would be the morning of the Reaping and everyone's life would be irrevocably changed once again. Peeta wasn't ready to face that, but eventually he would, there was no denying it. So he sucked it up and went downstairs to see what he could scrounge up for a late dinner. His memory still had yet to return to him and he worried that if he continued to isolate himself he'd go further down the rabbit hole of crazy theories.
It was quiet in the house and for a brief moment Peeta panicked that he had been left alone. But then the backdoor opened and Gale came in, something hidden behind his back.
"Peeta! You're up."
"What you got there?" Peeta asked, angling his head to try and see around Gale. He danced to the side and shook his head, a playful quirk of his sculpted jaw aimed Peeta's way.
"You'll see in a minute. Have some food, I cooked." He pointed with his free hand to the plate set out on the counter that Peeta just now noticed. It was just a sandwich, but Peeta wasn't picky. He picked it up and devoured it in a few bites.
Gale moved to the cabinet and took out two glasses before pulling from behind his back a clear bottle of white liquor.
"Where'd you get that?" Peeta asked stunned. Since the Hob had burned down no one had found a way to smuggle in the illegal liquor. If they had Haymitch would have found it.
"I had a little stash of my own, just for such occasions as tonight."
He poured a liberal amount of the alcohol in the glasses. Then handed one to Peeta and clinked the glass in cheers before taking a sip. He hissed at the burn.
"And what's the occasion?"
Peeta observed the liquor for a moment unsure if he wanted to indulge after the day he had, but Gale seemed to relax immensely after the first sip.
"Our last night of freedom before the Hunger Games machine ramps up again and we're forced to watch all that bloodshed for sport." Gale smiled charmingly and Peeta felt one spread on his face in return. Then it fell away as he remembered Prim's words.
"C'mon," Gale shoulder bumped Peeta. He couldn't deny Gale's attitude was infectious. "Everything could be fucked by tomorrow so why not enjoy the now?"
"Fine, but if I'm hungover tomorrow I'm volunteering you for the Quarter Quell." Peeta pointed the glass at Gale threateningly before throwing it back all in one go.
"Ha! Shit, you took that like a pro." Gale guffawed.
"That's not all I can take," Peeta replied salaciously, a single eyebrow cocked Gale's way. Gale stared at him in disbelief for a moment, jaw hanging limply before Peeta crowded forward and closed it for him with his index finger. "Close that mouth, you're drooling."
Then Peeta leaned past him to grab the liquor bottle—ignoring how Gale stiffened when their chests brushed together for a second and the tickle of breath against his ear—before heading into the living room. He wasn't sure what came over him, maybe it was the liquor, but Peeta wasn't about to question it. Gale was right; everything could be fucked tomorrow, so tonight he wasn't going to think about it. Tonight he would drink.
He was followed to the couch soon after by Gale, who cleared his throat before taking a seat and downing the rest of his drink in one go like Peeta and then pouring another.
"I guess the good thing about all this is you don't have to worry about any of your brother's getting reaped this year." Peeta said. He was trying to go for lighthearted, because really that was good news, but Gale's eyes only darkened at the mere mention of tomorrow.
"I still have to worry about you."
They both fell into a silence after that. Peeta poured more liquor and sipped on it this time already feeling the familiar sensation of the alcohol warming his stomach and buzzing his brain.
Eventually the conversation returned as they loosened with the liquor flooding through their system. Gale flipped on the television and they made a drinking game out of every time the Hunger Games was mentioned or a clip was shown from the previous games. Needless to say they got drunk real fast, both of them becoming sloppier with each cheer before they downed a sip of alcohol. Peeta leaned forward for a refill and lost his balance, sliding off the couch to land on his ass. Both of them burst out laughing. Tears came to Peeta's eyes at the hilarity of it all and he couldn't breath with the endlessness of his laughter. It was an unbelievable relief to be able to feel something other than a concoction of depressed anxiety and fearful paranoia.
"You okay?"
Gale clapped a hand to Peeta's shoulder and flopped down next to him. They both rested with their backs against the couch, their legs splayed out under the table in front of them. Peeta gave up on his effort to pour a new drink and instead took a drink straight from the bottle. Barely any was left. He held it out to Gale who took a gulp, finishing off their liquor.
Peeta's head felt foggy, but happy.
He needed to tell Gale this.
"I'm happy."
"Me too." Gale smiled and nudged his shoulder before leaving it there. Peeta felt like all his blood was rushing to that spot, overheating it. His blood was magnetized and Gale's touch was the matching magnetic force that brought it all to the surface in their joined shoulders.
"No, no, no. I mean I'm happy!" Peeta threw his hands up and around in a big arch forcing Gale to duck his head. "Sorry—" Peeta pulled his hands back to his lap. "But that doesn't happen. Everything just—it just sucks… all the time!" Peeta twisted to look at Gale emphatically, his legs folded up between them now. It was very important Gale understood him! "But you don't suck and I—I'm glad we became friends. Wouldn't change a thing about it."
A bright smile spread across Gale's face, his cheeks dimpled with the pressure of it and his eyes blazed like sapphires before a fire. He looked at Peeta like he was the only light for miles in a crushing darkness. Suddenly he reached out and cupped Peeta's face with an open palm. The calloused pad of his thumb stroked against Peeta's cheekbone.
"You the most amazing person I've ever met." Gale spoke with a clarity they hadn't managed since the alcohol kicked in and it startled Peeta. The hand against his face was suddenly the only thing holding his head up. He felt hot all over, like his clothes were a size too small and sticking to him. The house really needed air conditioning. Fuck the Capitol.
"Peeta," Gale spoke his name like a prayer. Like there was only ever one word he needed to express himself and Peeta's name was that word. The melodious deep timber of his voice sang deep in Peeta's veins and he leaned forward as if pulled by a gravitational force. "Peeta, you saved me from myself. I was lost after Katniss, but you never gave up on me. You make me feel alive again. You make it all worth while."
And suddenly Gale was right in Peeta's face. His hot breath ghosted over Peeta's skin. He smelled of the white liquor and something distinctly Gale, like the evergreen forest after a summer rain. Crisp and mossy. Their noses brushed and then Gale finally pushed their lips together ever so softly. His lips seared against Peeta's like the kiss of a fire hot poker to the skin, eating away everything inside Peeta until all that was left was Gale's name and the feel of his lips and stubble against Peeta's. A tongue, Peeta couldn't even tell whose, slipped into a warm and inviting mouth and moved against the others in gentle swipes. The heady fog of alcohol in his brain mixed with the sudden flare of lust and pushed the two of them closer together until Peeta was practically sitting in Gale's lap. His strong arms wrapped around Peeta's back, one snaking around his neck and holding him tight as the other massaged the lower point of his back, just above his shorts. Peeta's hands threaded through Gale's thick brown hair and tugged, angling for a deeper kiss that had them both groaning.
The kiss was rough and passionate, yet tame and confident. It begged for Peeta to let loose, to give in and share everything. It was a kiss unlike any kiss Peeta had ever had before and that was because he had only ever kissed one person—
What am I doing? Peeta suddenly shoved away from Gale and his back collided against the coffee table. Ouch. The kiss ended just as suddenly as it had started. Gale's eyes flashed with lust and confusion and possibly hurt. His lips were swollen and red from the crashing of their lips and with his mussed up hair he looked absolutely sinful. Peeta needed distance. He scrambled back on his hands and ass across the floor further from Gale. All his balance was lost with the inebriated state of his mind.
"Peeta, I—" Gale tried to reach out for him.
"No!" Peeta held up a hand and cut him off. His voice was louder, harsher than he intended and Gale bowed his head in shame. He remained where he was on the floor next to the couch. Peeta tried to regain his breath, but he couldn't stop thinking about those lips on his. What those rough, coal-miner hands would feel like against his bare skin. Peeta shivered and stood abruptly, desperately needing to clear his head. "I shouldn't have done that—it was a mistake—I'm sorry."
Peeta then turned and ran up the stairs to his room, collapsing against the door once on the other side. His head spun with the alcohol and rapid movement. For a moment he worried he might throw up. He gripped the handle of the door and held on as he rode the dizzying spin of the room before his eyes. Cato. Cato. Cato. He chanted the name over and over in his mind, but the more he said the name the less meaning it held. The name became just a word and then a sound that had no meaning. It made no sense to him. He heard the crash of glass in the sink downstairs and his stomach tightened. Then the familiar sound of feet on the stairs and Peeta worried for a moment Gale was coming to check on him, but the sound of his feet moved past his bedroom and to the other guest room. Peeta let out his breath in a rush of air too loud for his sensitive ears before he slid down the door to the ground and put his head in his hands. Everything suddenly ached.
He remained there on the floor for what seemed like hours, but could have been minutes. He had no way of telling. The throb in his head never lessened and the nagging worry in the back of his mind told him maybe it wasn't from the alcohol or even the betrayal, but from the distance between him and Gale. Maybe he needed him as much as the other seemed to need him—which was a concept so foreign to him it was like trying to make oil and water mix, it just refused to comply.
The air in the room tasted stale and a fuzzy film developed along the inside of his mouth. Peeta needed water. He stood and quietly opened the door, cringing at the obscene amount of noise it created. Then he moved down the hall towards the bathroom, tip-toeing by Gale's bedroom so as not to alert him to his presence outside the room. He filled a tall glass to the brim with drinkable tap water and then downed it all in one go. He felt reasonably better after that. He filled it up again to take with him back to his room. Except on his return he found himself stopping outside Gale's door. It was as if every fiber of his being was alive and screaming at him to just go in, just knock, just give a sign that he was out here. It was too much and he couldn't move. He could barely function. Peeta was immobilized by the sound of his bodies need, screaming like thousands of crazed Capital fans. He finally came to rest his forehead against the door and felt a tear slip out of his closed eyes.
This wasn't right. And yet the worst part was it didn't feel wrong.
Then the door suddenly opened and Peeta fell forward, in past the threshold of the door and right before Gale. He stood tall in a pair of boxers and a black v-neck that exposed too much tantalizing golden smooth skin. Gale's eyes were bloodshot and his mouth was pinched in a tight line. But then the pain all washed away as Peeta let out a strangled noise. It sounded like 'I need…' and it was all Gale needed before he threw himself forward, grabbing Peeta's shoulders and pulling them together in a tight embrace. Peeta's feet were suddenly wet as the sound of shattering glass cut through their stifled moans, the glass of water in Peeta's hand quickly forgotten as he threw his arms around Gale and gave himself over to the want of his body.
They stumbled backwards to the bed without interrupting the kiss. Teeth inadvertently clacked and stifled groans slipped from their throats. Even inadvertent pain was glorious. Gale reached behind him to grip his shirt and quickly pulled it over his head. Peeta did the same before their lips melded back together as one. Gale was a strong and confident kisser. He pulled on Peeta's bottom lip until it was swollen and red, then he pushed his tongue in against Peeta's and massaged in a steady rhythm. Gale's rough hands were splayed out on Peeta's back gripping and kneading the flesh like it was dough. The bare skin of their stomachs touched and Peeta could feel each individual muscle of Gale's chest twitch in anticipation. Peeta moved his hands down Gale's muscled back and was jolted back to reality at the feeling of the coarse and uneven scar tissue on Gale's back. Gale froze too, pulling back from the kiss and looking Peeta in the eye.
"I did it for you. To protect you. I regret nothing." He whispered deep and breathless. "I'd do it all over for you in a heartbeat."
"No. I couldn't handle it. Enough people have been hurt because of me…"
"Only because you're worth it."
Peeta stroked the countless scars that laced Gale's back like chicken wire reverently. Each one a terrible reminder of the pain inflicted on the District because of Peeta, each lash like a cut to Peeta's resolve. Anymore and there'd be nothing left. It would all collapse.
A pair of hands cupped Peeta's face and pulled his eyes back up to Gale's. His look was scorching in its intensity, but comforting in its familiar warmth. Peeta let it chase away all the other mangled thoughts he had and gave over to the moment, because who knew what tomorrow would bring.
"You are worth everything."
His words showered Peeta, cleansing his burdened soul and freeing him. At least for the moment.
They fell to the bed and shed their bottoms, now completely naked. Gale gasped and Peeta wondered if this was his first. With a guy. He didn't want to ask, but he moved slowly. Kissing along Gale's broad shoulders and down his throat to the tuft of hair that grew between his pecs. Gale unleashed long wonton sighs that must have been trapped in the depths of his chest for months and now were finally allowed to escape. His hand hesitantly left its perch from Peeta's bicep—where it had been holding a fierce grip—and moved towards Peeta's manhood. He waffled for a moment and Peeta watched closely him for any signs of regret. Gale took a deep breath and then gripped. There was no fear of this being a mistake.
They moved slow and methodically. Every touch treasured, every kiss a revelation. Peeta ran a hand down the rigid contours of Gale's abdomen before lightly grazing his straining cock, which jumped in anticipation. Peeta couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips.
"Quit teasing." Gale gasped. Peeta bit down on a nipple before continuing his exploration of Gale's chest, using both tongue and hands.
"If you insist," Peeta gave a lustful smile before licking a strip down from the center of Gale's chest to the hair nestled above his impressive cock. Then in one fell swoop he swallowed the head of Gale's penis with out warning. The head was large and red and filled Peeta's mouth. Gale bit down on his knuckle to keep from screaming, the hand on Peeta's cock forgotten. The weight on his tongue was familiar to Peeta and he worked to swallow down more of Gale's length until his nose brushed against Gale's balls. He left a trail of saliva along Gale's cock, which he then gripped with his left hand and stroked in time with the bob of his head, never letting up on the suction. The angle of his head made it easier to take Gale's impressive length in. An urge to make Gale feel things he'd never felt before came over him and spurred him on, increasing the pace of his blowjob.
"Fuck, fuck, Peeta!" Gale cried out and pulled Peeta up from his dick.
Peeta finally looked back up at Gale's face afraid of what he might see. Regret, disgust? But instead he saw sweat beaded on his forehead and his mouth hung open. But it was Gale's eyes that held his attention as they smiled brighter than he'd ever seen. He looked truly happy and it was because of Peeta.
"I wont last any longer if you keep that up," Gale panted.
Peeta laughed and wiped his lips before lunging up to kiss Gale. His lips were soft as velvet yet forceful like steel and it set Peeta's nerves on fire.
"Do—do you want to…" Peeta wavered, unsure if it was appropriate, but Gale only watched him with encouragement. "Do you want to have sex?"
Gale grinned like a child before a table full of his favorite desserts. He crushed their lips together and flipped them so he was crowded over top of Peeta. The heat of their bodies made it feel like they were in a sweat lodge. Sweat trailed down the back of Peeta's neck before the sheets soaked it up. Gale panted raggedly before pulling back to look at Peeta carefully.
"I—I've never done—"
Peeta shushed him with a kiss. "It's okay. Just do what feels right."
If he trusted Gale with his life then he could trust him with this. Peeta spread his legs and Gale's eyes darkened with lust, all hesitancy wiped from his face and replaced with a steely determination. He slicked two fingers and pressed them against Peeta's hole. They slid in and a needy whimper fell from Peeta's lips. The pressure was nothing new, but Gale's fingers were longer and they reached deeper. Gale stroked Peeta's dick while working a third finger in and Peeta felt like his whole body was on fire. It had been so long since he'd been touched like this he forgot how consuming the pleasure was.
"I'm ready."
Gale's fingers froze inside of Peeta and his stare latched onto Peeta's. It was as if the very air between their eyes shimmered and danced with the heat of their stare. Then his fingers slid out of Peeta's hole and the loss led to another pitiful groan. Gale hurried to slick his cock with spit before aligning it with Peeta's hole. Peeta gripped the sheets and prepared. Then the pressure built as Gale pushed in and suddenly he slid to the base and they both cried out in unison. Gale fell forward, his chest against Peeta's and Peeta's legs wrapped around his back, resting above Gale's powerful glutes, which were strained tight. Every muscle in Gale's body was taut and the veins on his neck bulged as he struggled to remain still. Peeta squirmed underneath him, writhing in pleasure at the feeling of finally being filled, of finally feeling complete and connected, all because of Gale.
"Wh—why'd you stop?" Peeta asked strangled. He could barely focus. Gale was thicker than he was used to and it had been a while since anything had been in there besides fingers.
Gale didn't reply. Instead he rested his forehead against Peeta's and gave a tentative thrust. They both groaned in unison. Gale brought their lips together and finally began to move; building a steady rhythm that was strong and forceful, but caring and tentative. Peeta soon adjusted to Gale's girth and began to meet his thrusts, begging for it to go deeper. It felt like heaven's touch. The feeling of Gale's body atop him, his rigid member deep inside him, the sweat of their bodies mixing into an aroma distinctly their own. It didn't seem real. It was just a dream like the others, one's he never admitted to himself the following morning. Suddenly that familiar fire began building in the pit of his stomach as Gale's cock brushed over that spot inside him that lit him up like a roman candle. Gale's thrusts grew erratic, his hips stuttering as they worked in and out of Peeta's ass. A hand slipped between their sweaty abdomens and gripped Peeta's neglected cock.
"Oh, god!" Peeta threw his head back, crying out in ecstasy.
Gale latched his lips to Peeta's neck, sucking and kissing all over as he stroked Peeta. The sensations were too much. They overwhelmed him and his mind shut down as he plunged over the edge. His muscled clenched and Gale suddenly pounded faster into his hole as Peeta erupted between them in an explosion of white-hot pleasure that spiked through his whole body like a volcano exploding after a century of dormancy. The sheer force of it was enough to blow everything else from his mind. Gale's gruff cry mingled with Peeta's as his body tensed and his stomach muscles convulsed with the emptying of his seed deep in Peeta. At some point their hands had found one another and entwined in a tight grip, riding out the waves of their orgasm until their skin was white from the pressure.
Slowly Gale pulled out from Peeta and he winced, sore and spent, but also missing the sensation of being filled and connected on such a primal level to Gale. The bed bounced when Gale fell to the side of Peeta, exhausted and with a silly grin on his face, Peeta was reminded how drunk he still was. The room kept bouncing even though they both had stopped moving. His hand sought back out Gale's rougher one and his rabid heartbeat finally began to come under control. No more words were spoken. Peeta wasn't sure it was because they didn't know what to say or that there was just no need to speak. He had never been more conflicted and satisfied and it scared him.
Eventually they both drifted of to sleep, the Reaping the furthest thing from their minds.
Like the snap of a finger Peeta was suddenly at attention. Sleep flew from his body in a second and everything he did from the night before slammed back into his mind like a bullet tearing through his skull. He remained motionless as the onslaught of memories cascaded before his still closed eyes. Then he began to take stock of other things. Everything felt heavy like he was dressed in damp clothing and his mouth tasted like stale liquor. One thing in particular stood out, Gale's limb was thrown possessively across his torso sticky with sweat and their legs were tangled together so that one couldn't tell where the other began.
Peeta opened his eyes to see Gale asleep next to him. He took in Gale's naked form, the dirty blonde hairs that dusted his golden tanned chest, the deep grooves in his hip that pointed like arrows to his flaccid penis. It was tantalizing, despite everything it meant. He had to avert his eyes as a stab of shame hit him like an elbow between the shoulder blades. The pain was sharp and piercing, spreading outwards in his body, leaving him numb and vacant feeling.
What have I done? Peeta knew he had made the ultimate betrayal. The ring on his left hand suddenly felt heavier like it was tied to a cinderblock. It was a burden he wasn't sure he could carry. The finger might break.
Disentangling from Gale and crawling from bed Peeta scurried to his room where he dressed in last years outfit for the Reaping. A simple white button up shirt and black slacks—slightly worn at the knees from years of use. In the mirror he caught a purpling bruise on the side of his neck. In the same spot where Gale had kissed. Fuck. There was no way to hide it, he tried pulling the collar of his shirt up, but it only hid about half the bruise. His only hope was that everyone would be too preoccupied with the Reaping to be paying attention to his neck. They still didn't know how the girl tribute's slot would be resolved. Peeta gave a shudder like an icy draft had sifted through the room.
As silently as possible Peeta tried to creep down the stairs and out the door. When his hand reached the knob he paused at the sound of a throat clearing.
"Please don't tell me you were trying to slip out before I woke up?"
Gale didn't sound angry, but the hurt was evident in the clipped tone of his voice still groggy with sleep. Peeta couldn't bear to turn around. To face him. Then it might be real and right now it wasn't. It was just a lustful fantasy that he could admit to having had on an occasion or two before. But Gale was making it real. He was making Peeta remember everything he felt, not just the intense pleasure, but also the intimacy and the very real, very deep connection that had slowly built between them over the months. A bridge they built brick by delicate brick between their hearts, helping them move on from the losses in their lives, but also irrevocably connecting them.
"I—I don't know what to say," Peeta spoke softly. His head came to rest against the doorframe.
The stair creaked under the weight of Gale's step. Peeta knew he was coming down for him. He didn't think he could face him. Yet his body yearned for him to cross that bridge, to let their hearts meet.
"Don't say anything, just listen."
Gale was right behind him and his skin rippled with gooseflesh.
"I cant, I'm sorry," Peeta apologized before he flung the door open and ran out. He didn't look back. He couldn't. Not as he turned on to the street and not when he passed from Victors Village onto the main street to the town square. He feared if he stopped running his heart might just give out on him. He had to keep it beating; he had to keep it distracted or else. Else what he didn't know.
The air was more humid than normal. The clouds above swirled angry and menacing like the stubborn black smoke that hung in the air for days over the Hob. The town square was already filling up as the crowd gathered for the Reaping. The children ages twelve to eighteen all gathered in lines even though they weren't eligible to be reaped. It was only between Haymitch and Peeta. There was a fifty-percent chance he was going back in and for the Quarter Quell. Up against tested warriors and brutal killers. His mouth dried out and it felt like a walnut had lodged in his throat. He could barely swallow around it.
Peeta saw his father in the back with the other watching parents. He moved as if to come to Peeta. His rounded face creased with lines of worry, obviously noticing Peeta's emotional state. He had to pull it together; soon cameras would be trained on his face. Peeta shook his head no and his father stopped, unsure if he should listen, but then decided he wanted to ignore Peeta's wishes. Luckily his domineering mother appeared beside him and she locked his wrist in a tight grip. She gave Peeta an acidic smile and then turned her head away as if there was something more interesting going on to her right. Anything was probably more interesting to her than her youngest son.
Soon the cameras were rolling and intruding in everyone's personal space. Haymitch and Peeta were situated on the stage, standing to the right. The Mayor gave his standard speech and Peeta couldn't help, but feel a sense of foreboding. His body itched uncomfortably like ants were swarming over his skin. There wasn't much more he could take and thankfully Effie Trinket gave way with her typically inappropriate enthusiasm for something more subdued as she moved towards the bowl in a shimmering lacey grey frock.
It started to drizzle, a cold rain that almost stung against the overheated flesh of Peeta's body. He spotted Gale towards the back of the assembled crowd, but he averted his gaze before their eyes could lock. The look on Gale's face was one of anticipatory dread and Peeta couldn't handle knowing it was planted there because of him. Had he made the wrong decision? Should he have spoken with Gale before the Reaping? What if he never got the chance again and that was how it ended for them?
"Eh-hem," Effie began by clearing her throat noisily. "This year as you know the tributes shall be chosen from the already available pool of Victors. But that presents a unique problem for District Twelve as there are only male victors from which to choose. So as best to fall in line with the spirit of this years Quarter Quell…" Effie paused Peeta was shocked to see a look of discomfort pass over her face, visible even through the thick layer of white make-up caked on her face. Effie never lost her composure. Peeta suddenly grew infinitely more worried. "…It has been decided that a blood relative of last years tribute, Katniss Everdeen, shall be put forth: Primrose Everdeen."
It felt like the stage on which Peeta stood had collapsed beneath him in a gaping hole that had split forth from the ground below to swallow him whole. His stomach was left lurching in the air above him while he plummeted through the darkest depths of the earth. His heartbeat spiked. The crowd could be heard grumbling unhappily—which was unheard of—but Peeta only had eyes for young Prim as she bravely composed her face and moved towards the stage. It was raining hard now and her nice dress wilted like a flower in a summer drought. He could tell she was in shock. It hadn't hit her yet. It could still be a mistake. Peeta wished for a miracle that it were.
Blue eyes sought out equally blue ones and Peeta finally locked sights with Gale. His heartbeat finally calmed and a sense of peace descended over him. It felt just like the last time he was here exactly one year ago. The decision was made in his mind, the rebel in him firmly committed. Now that it was done he knew what to do. Gale seemed to know too. The bridge between their hearts leaving no doubt as to what was to be done. He looked as if he had just been whipped by Romulus again. And now Peeta was about to land the finishing lash that just might kill him. Effie pulled a dampened piece of paper from the large fishbowl and read a name into the microphone.
Time seemed to freeze as hope lingered in Gale's eyes that it might not go the way Peeta wanted. But he knew it was only false hope. There never was a chance for this to end happy for him, he knew that now and Gale knew Peeta couldn't let Prim go in alone.
When Haymitch's name was read Peeta breathed a sigh of relief and Gale's face collapsed in devastation like a mine caving in on itself. The rain trailed down his face and Peeta wasn't sure if he was seeing tears or raindrops. It was the last image Peeta saw before he stepped forward, lungs full of air and shouted, "I volunteer!"
