Disclaimer: All stories are individuals of themselves and are unrelated to each other.

"Will you kiss me?"

There was so much in that question alone. Gale hadn't kissed anyone in a very long time, especially not a tribute. After he won the 72nd Games all those years ago the only kissing he did was for money, and he didn't quite count that.

But there Madge Undersee stood, her golden hair blowing in the wind on the roof of the Training Center and her cheeks tinted a bright pink. The mayor's daughter unrightfully reaped at the ripe old age of 18. A setup.

"That's probably not a good idea," Gale finally grunted out.

He would have loved to kiss her. He would have loved to press his lips to hers and taste the strawberries he sold to her all those years ago. But it was wrong. He was her mentor. She was a tribute.

Her features fell. Blue eyes filling with shame and pale cheeks turning a shade or two darker.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Madge whispered. "I… I've never been kissed." Gale's heart twisted in his chest. He knew what was coming next. "If I'm going to die I… I just…" Madge sighed and pushed herself away from the edge of the roof. "Never mind."

Gale gripped her wrist, "Wait."

And she did. Madge paused in her step and blinked the tears from her eyes, turning back to face him.

"You're not going to die," he said sternly. The thought of someone so innocent like her, someone so pure dying just didn't sit well in his stomach. Madge didn't meet his gaze. "It's not that I don't want to kiss you," he finally told her.

"It was a stupid question," Madge murmured. Gale couldn't recall any other time in which her voice sounded so garbled. "The Games are tomorrow," she announced, finally returning to the proud daughter of a District mayor. She held herself high. "I should get some sleep."

Before she could march away Gale swung her around. She was confused by his actions, evident by the look on her face, but when his lips met hers she melted just as he did.

Gale was an expert on these sorts of things, having been thrown into the same business as Finnick Odair, but kissing Madge felt like an entirely new experience. She was shy, her kisses nervous. It made him all the more hungry for her touch.

He had been starved for human contact, real human contact, and she was so insanely sweet it drove him up the wall. Before he lost himself in the fact that this wasn't for anyone's enjoyment but his and hers, Gale pulled away.

Madge was breathless, her cheeks still strawberry red. Her fingers had somehow ended up tangled with his belt loops. Despite himself, Gale smiled.

"Thank you," Madge forced out. Gale pressed his lips to hers again quickly. "I really should—I should go."

"You're brave," Gale suddenly told her. His hands cradled her cheeks. "Bravest tribute I've ever had." She blinked a few times before dropping her gaze. "And smart," he continued. "You're not going to die, Madge."

Slowly her fingers unlatched themselves and she stepped away. His hands fell. "Goodnight, Gale," she had said, tipping her head in his direction.

He hesitated, knowing it meant so much more than that. "Goodnight, Madge."