Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine.

Kisses

Gale wraps his arms around Madge's middle, pulls her flush against his chest before he presses a kiss to her neck, just under her left ear.

A pale blush creeps up her cheeks and she tilts her head, gives him a sheepish grin.

"You don't have to be kissing me all the time," she tells him teasingly.

He knows that, but he certainly wants to. The fact that he can kiss her, is allowed to, is reason enough to do it as much, and as often, as possible.

If he could spend the rest of his life memorizing her lips, her skin, her soft hair, he would, without hesitation.

The kiss at the hovercraft port hadn't gone exactly as he'd hoped, she'd run off on him, made him believe that he'd made yet another mistake with a girl he cared deeply for. Madge had come back, though, windswept and flushed, told him she was sorry and scared and million other things he just barely remembers. The only thing that had mattered at the time was that she'd come back. Despite all her insecurities, which she'd thrown at his feet in what he felt was spectacular fashion, she came back.

He'd still been afraid of kissing her though. That had spooked her the first time and if waiting was what she needed then waiting is what he was prepared to do.

She'd sprung the next kiss on him, during a walk, and he's never been more grateful for something in his life.

They've settled into an easy routine of kissing and touching, hugging and holding, things Gale had been missing for ages now.

He had removed himself from the dating pool before Madge had even come back into his life. He was a mess and needed to get his life in order before dragging another human being into it.

That had gone well enough, until he'd found Madge.

She wasn't someone he'd have to explain himself to. Madge knew he had a bitter side, a vicious side. She'd witnessed that part of him; bore his unpleasantness on her shoulders during much of the Seventy-fourth Games. The fact that Gale was capable of great cruelty was not news to her, which was a relief. There were no false expectations with her.

He'd devised terrible things, and he would be haunted by them for the rest of his life.

Madge understood the kind of mistakes he'd made though.

"You were trying to help the Rebellion, Gale," she told him, more than once. "Even when you have the best of intentions things can get twisted."

She would know, he supposed, her father worked from within the corrupt and dangerous government, trying to help the downtrodden people of his District, without so much as a 'thank you' for his troubles. Madge's father had done so much, more than Gale thinks he even knows about, to help the people of Twelve, but even with his good intentions people had suffered.

Madge understands sacrifice, trying and failing, more than most, and Gale knows that's why she can still stand to look at him. She knows he's human, not flawless, not the great war hero the government paints him as.

As much as he'd enjoyed her companionship, though, he enjoys her kisses more.

"I want to kiss you all the time," he murmurs into her hair, inhales the raspberry scent. "I wasted a lot of time not kissing you and I need to make up for it."

She snorts and he feels the air rush over the backs of his hands.

Gale presses a line of kisses down her neck, one hand gently brushing soft tangles of her hair out of the way until he reaches her collar bone.

"Gale, your mother might walk in," she tells him. There isn't much conviction behind her breathy voice though.

His mother won't be surprised. This would hardly be the first time she'd walked in on him kissing, but it would be the first time she'd catch him with a girl she actually approves of.

Gale doesn't mention that though. Reminding Madge of one more thing from his past that is less than sterling isn't something he feels like doing. She's perfectly aware he's kissed plenty of girls, not nearly as many as the rumors had claimed, but still more than enough.

All those kisses had been messy, heated things. Lips and bodies and hands without thought up at the slag heap, a place Gale's mind can't even imagine Madge in.

Kisses with Madge aren't urgent, not forced and desperate, a flash in the pan before the next event. Her kisses are soft, easy, and eager, but not frantic. They leave Gale with a sense of peace. Each one lights an aching need in his chest for more.

But it's a delicious kind of need.

It's a hungry feeling he's never known before, one that only seems to grow the more he holds her, the more he kisses her. It had crept up on him when he realized he loved her and now it has a firm grip on his heart.

A thought strikes him and he chuckles against her neck.

"What?" Her eyes widen and her head turns sharply. "Did I do something?"

Gale catches her lips with his, parts them gently. He smiles into the kiss.

"I just realized something," he finally says.

Madge's nose wrinkles up in confusion. "What?"

He tightens his arms around her middle, pulls her a little closer to his body.

"You're my first girlfriend." He should've realized it when he introduced her to his commanding officer the day before. The thought had slipped his mind, though, because he'd been so preoccupied with happiness at being able to say, 'This is my girlfriend, Madge'.

She cuts her eyes over, wrinkles her nose a little more. "You're joking."

"Cross my heart," he tells her as he maneuvers her to face him.

"But…" she frowns at the ground. Her eyes glance up, through her lashes. "Really?"

He nods.

He's been on plenty of dates, just like he's kissed plenty of girls, but as far as pinning a title to the relationships, he's never called any of them his girlfriend.

Back in Twelve he'd been too busy. First school and hunting, then work and hunting, and of course there'd been Katniss.

After Twelve, after the war, there'd been too much anger, too much pain to build a relationship. Most of the women he'd been around had been every bit as broken and volatile as he'd been. They were one night stands and repeat encounters, but not relationships.

They weren't even close to being in the same place as where he and Madge were right now.

"Well," Madge bites her lip, "you're my first boyfriend."

Gale grins at her, leans down and put his forehead to hers, "I want to be your only boyfriend."

Madge gives him a lazy grin, shrugs. "Well, we'll see."

He guides her back, wedges her between his body and the wall. She's teasing him. "We'll see?"

She glances away, tries to force the smile off her face. "You have a kissing debt to pay. If you don't get that under control then I just don't know how far this relationship can go."

When he dips down, begins peppering her face and neck, down to her chest and back up again with kisses, she makes a small noise, begins laughing.

"Gale!" She wriggles pleasantly against him. "Your mother could walk in!"

Gale catches her lips again, silencing her.

When they break apart she's breathless, the blush has traveled down to her chest.

He leans in, nips at her ear. "You know how I am with debt, Madge. I'm just making a payment."

His lips begin trailing down her neck again, slower this time, enjoying the taste of her skin.

For as long as she'll let him, Gale will spend the rest of his life kissing her, making up for the lost time he'd created when he'd been too foolish to know how wonderful she was.

Madge lets out a long, contented sigh, smiles softly at him. "What do you plan on doing when you've paid down your kisses?"

Gale quickly silences her again, a little longer this time, memorizing the taste of mint on her tongue.

He doesn't say it, but he's certain she understands.

The deficit he's accumulated for kissing her will never be repaid, and for the first, and probably only time in his life, Gale is okay with being in someone's debt.

Especially if it means kissing her all the time.