AN - When she loses a bet to Jo, Katniss is forced to pay up in a way she doesn't expect. Rated M, because almost nothing that involves Jo should be rated less than that. Written for my friend mega-aulover in response to the prompt: I'm too sober for this.
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"I'm too sober for this."
Katniss is scowling at me and it's all I can do not to laugh. Instead, I tuck a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear and lower my lips until they barely brush the lobe. "Now, now," I whisper, knowing her reluctance is really just her modesty and nerves shining through. "It's not like Katniss Everdeen to welch on a bet."
The scowl grows deeper and her lip curls up. "I'm not welching on this bet, even if Johanna cheated."
Whether or not Johanna actually cheated has been a subject of great debate between the two of of them leading up to tonight. The bet, born in a moment of madness that only three weeks of tending bar in the Christmas season can create, was a simple one. Each argued she was the best bartender in the upscale pub where we work.
"They come in here to see me, Brainless," argued Johanna.
"They come in here because I mix the best drinks around," replied Katniss, whipping her braid over her shoulder.
Personally, I think they come for the food, but chose wisely to stay in the kitchen, plating some of my barbecued chicken nachos, the ones with thinly sliced dill pickles and feta cheese that people beg for.
Finnick, who works with me in the kitchen, dragged us into it anyway. "Why don't you girls make a bet," he suggested through the pass-through. "Whoever earns the most in tips this weekend is the best bartender."
From my spot at the prep table, I watched Katniss nod. "Sounds good to me," she agreed.
"No, that's not enough," countered Johanna. "The loser also has to perform one task of the winner's choice."
"Agreed," said Katniss, and the girls shook hands.
Now, Katniss owns my whole heart, but even I know that she doesn't exactly have a sparkling personality. My girl has lots of fire, just not the kind that charms spare cash out of people's pockets. But given that Johanna's personality is even more acerbic, I figured Katniss had a pretty good shot at the whole deal.
We set up a tally in the kitchen. Every night after closing, the girls emptied the pockets of their aprons and Finn counted it. I offered to help, but Johanna said I couldn't be trusted not to throw a few extra bucks in just to put Katniss over the top.
The first night, Katniss beat her fair and square. The second night, Johanna showed up with the neck of her t-shirt cut so deeply there was almost nothing left to the imagination. The third night, she wore a push up bra and practically spilled out of the top.
On the fourth night, Katniss snarled that the sign over the door said the Hob, not Hooters. "If you can't beat me fair and square Mason, you can't beat me at all."
Johanna just shook her arse in the booty shorts she'd put on when she arrived at work. "We didn't set any limits on how we make those tips, Brainless. Feel free to slut it up. Blondie in there won't mind."
"Leave me out of this, Jo," I called, putting a Mellark Mayhem burger with kettle chips on the pass.
"I'll keep my self respect, thanks," Katniss groused to Jo, then smiled so brightly at her next customer that I suspect it probably caused them pain.
Each night, Katniss brought in a healthy amount in tips, but Jo's total continued to climb and climb. In the end, Katniss had to concede, albeit not gracefully. "I think the only think we've established is who is the biggest tramp," she complained.
Jo's dark eyes glittered. "And now for the agreed upon task. You, Brainless, will sing at our Christmas party, in an outfit and to song of my choosing."
"Fine," Katniss muttered, apparently not realizing what she'd just gotten herself into.
Which brings us here, to the little closet that passes for the Hob's green room. And to Katniss, in a silver sequin bra and short red skirt. Jo was wrong, I mind others seeing her in this state of undress. Still, that doesn't stop my hand from sliding up her leg and slipping under her skirt.
"You know, if you'd rather not go out there, we could just stay in here," I mutter, my hand gliding around to her inner thigh so I can sneak my fingers into her panties.
Katniss's eyes close as she entertains the idea, her lips parted slightly. It's more than a bit thrilling to know they're all out there. I could just push up the skirt, get down on my knees-
She bats my hand away and jams a Santa hat on her head instead. Her hair, curled and lose for the occasion falls about her shoulders. "No, I'm going to get this over with," she insists grimly.
"Fine," I acquiesce, not a little disappointed. She looks so sexy it hurts. "Just like we practiced, okay? I'll be down in front."
The corner of her mouth tilts up slightly. "Then we'll go home and do the other things we practiced."
I pull her to me and steal one more kiss. "Give me two minutes to get in position."
Exactly two minutes later, I'm sitting at the table our gang comandeered. Jo is rubbing her hands together in glee. Finn has the decency to look a bit concerned. "Is Katniss holding up alright?"
"She'll be fine," I reply calmly, and then there she is, in front of the mic, her grey eyes filled with fire. She looks down at me and the music starts. Not only is my girl not going to back down, she's going to kill it.
Her hand trails over the curve of her exposed breast and then she strokes the microphone. "Santa baby…"