Ok, so... I wanted to write something silly & lighthearted, the wips are not responding, and it's summer... So here goes this tiny piece, no context & no copyright infringement intended.
Note: I'll hopefully finish 'Seam Life' sometime this year and upload the last chapter here if the site lets me. Otherwise I've more or less moved to ao3 under the same username – the stuff there is more recently edited, and if (if!) I ever manage to rewrite & finish any of the old longer things, it will be posted over there – so feel free to come say hi! Enjoy & take care.
songs of summer
Of course he gets the hang of it quickly, it's not like she expected otherwise. Katniss stands in the shallows where the water reaches almost to her neck, shading her eyes with a wet hand, watching Gale swim and splash around.
It was desperation that drove them to the lake, after the relentless heatwave chased game deeper into the forest and started drying out all the nearby streams into muddy trickles. Or more precisely, Katniss grew desperate enough to share one last secret of the woods she'd held onto, the lake she used to visit with her father long ago.
It was Saturday, which meant a chance to make a bigger expedition than they could manage on schooldays, and they decided to stay out in the woods from sunrise to sunrise in the hopes of finally bringing a substantial haul home. (She dreaded the times looming close ahead when they will only have the Sundays to hunt together – if, after the next reaping, they still have anything at all.)
The trek there was long, the paths overgrown and nearly faded from her memory. She could tell Gale was getting impatient, perhaps wondering if she was getting lost and their hunting day wasted, but the promise of fish and game that might come to the lake to drink at dusk kept him silent in her wake.
His expression when they reached the clearing with the lake (an increasingly clear game path led them there, apparently frequented, another good sign) was well worth the long journey.
Their arrival disturbed a wood duck with a bunch of ducklings, but they let them go, let them grow.
Instead, they harvested duck-potatoes in the shallows – katniss, she explained, to Gale's endless teasing. She insisted they taste much better roasted, but, unwilling to risk a fire, they chose to eat some raw, rounding up the meagre meal with wild berries and cheese.
Then they cast their fishing nets, and to pass the time, Katniss suggested she teaches him to swim. Gale was more than happy to agree. (Neither wanted to think about where else the knowledge might come useful – after all, the only other way to get out of their District was through the Arena, but usefulness be damned for once. It was something to share, something to enjoy.)
Gale breaks the surface near her, a huge grin on his face. He looks younger somehow, cleansed of coaldust and worries. "This is the best, Catnip. I wish we could take the kids here."
"Yeah, I was just thinking that." Now that the secret is no longer hers alone, she wants to take the Hawthornes too, in fact, the whole damn district, to a place where they could breathe freely. Katniss has long wished to take Prim here again, and their mom too, but never dared to as much as suggest it for fear of how mom might react. Another breakdown was the last thing she needed, and the memories might be too much.
They made only one trip here as a family, years and years ago, one of the riskiest and most rewarding of Everdeen endeavors. Katniss was immensely proud of herself to walk the entire distance on her little legs – the journey took even longer back then, while dad carried the tiny Prim. Mom was beside herself with worry, and excitement too, picking bunches of herbs along the path. When they were far enough beyond the fence, dad started to sing, and the girls joined in, even Prim crooned along in his arms.
Katniss feels like the songs are echoing there still, woven into the music of the woods, accompanying her every step of the way. Here, the feeling is so strong she can almost hear them, almost starts humming.
Perhaps she could teach Gale the songs too. Perhaps on their way back, after they managed to catch something. It wouldn't do to scare away the game now.
As it is, though, their almost-silence feels more fitting, just their breath and heartbeat, a rhythm of their own. She is happy to be here with Gale alone, making the place theirs, too.
Something is stirring inside her, a tender bud of desire for a future sprouting from the rich soil of the past.
When they circle closer to each other, she is suddenly very aware that Gale is not her father, or brother or a cousin, whatever the Capitolites say about Seam kids. This is something different, special, and honestly, less awkward than she would have expected.
Below the waterline, their ragged underwear is soaked through, but she's not overly worried about that. Still, her breath catches when he steps close enough to touch, already able to stand in the deeper water, taller as he is. Sunlight is glinting in his hair, in the droplets of water caught in his dark eyelashes. Seeing him in this new light drives home why the word friend has become too casual a word for what they have, for what they are. For how dear he is to her, for how well she knows every movement of his body and mind.
He'd caught his breath already, but his heart is still beating very fast, she can tell, mesmerized by a pulsing vein at the base of his neck. He's standing a bit farther away from the shore, which brings them face to face above the water.
Luckily (in Katniss' opinion), Gale hasn't grown any taller since they've met, only leaner and stronger, and she caught up a few inches, the top of her head coming all the way to his chin now. She finds that very comfortable whenever they hug, easily hiding her smile in the crook of his neck when he presses a kiss into her hair. They've never been close like this, though, almost bare bodies separated only by a few inches of lukewarm water.
"Thank you so much for bringing me here, Catnip," he says very softly, voice deeper that she's ever heard it, eyes intent on her face. Something in his gaze warms her more than the blazing summer sun, and she basks in the feeling, new and exciting.
"I'm glad I did." The water ripples between them as she moves closer.
The sun and water and hot breeze caress her skin, and it feels only natural when Gale's fingertips join in, lightly skimming her arms and shoulders, caressing her cheekbones. Her palms settle against his chest, warm and open, fingers spread over wet skin. His hands slide back down along her braid, down to her waist, her slight curves fitting neatly into his palms, his thumbs brushing over her ribs, her hipbones.
His smiling mouth grows serious, lips slightly parted, she is observing it in minute detail, with huntress' intent. Her gaze flickers up for a moment, to catch him watching her in the same way, eyes dark.
They breathe and think in sync, as always.
Wild heartbeat in her fingertips, his and hers alike. His lips in her hair, warm breath on her cheeks. The sudden realization that, out of everything they have found in their woods, they haven't tasted each other yet.
A slight nod and a tilt of her head, her lips parted to welcome his kiss, ready to learn.
She gets the hang of it quickly, guided by his gentle movements and her own instinct, her own hunger.
When they break apart for breath she smiles at him without embarrassment, the newfound knowledge of his lips sweet enough to overcome the bitter fear of loss.
Then they dive in for seconds and thirds, bodies submerged and entwined. The water wouldn't douse their fire, but caution has to win out in the end.
Gale shoots off to swim another lap around the lake – to stay on the safe side, he says –, Katniss laughs at him and chooses to wade out instead. She lays on her stomach at the shore, the grass a soft pillow under her cheek, a sweet dream curling her lips upward as she naps in the sunlight.
Later, Gale joins her there, unravels her wet hair and combs it with his fingers, twists the dark strands like lengths of twine, braiding them back together and getting thoroughly ensnared himself. When he is done, she turns and laces her fingers with his. She almost says something then, her lips trembling a little, but thinks better of it, kisses him instead. Her unspoken feelings are reflected in his eyes, their silent pact stronger now, rooted deep under their skin.
As the dusk approaches, they settle in weeping willows downwind from the game path that brought them there, dried and dressed, bows at the ready, in hunter mode again.
She can't quite hear his heartbeat now, but she knows it's there, woven into the quiet music of the woods, attuned to hers. Accompanying her every step of the way.