Okay, so this is nothing more than a collection of drafts that were sitting at the bottom of my computer files for who knows how long. I like them quite a lot, so I've figured that I might as well post them.
They're mostly Gale/Madge works, but they won't be following any chronological order. Warning is that some of them may contain sexual references, eventual smut and mentions of torture. Also foul language might be used.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to S. Collins and The Hunger Games franchise.
A/N: Please note that English is not my first language (and I have no beta, we die alone like Snow), so feel free to point out any mistakes.
He is a force of nature.
Tall, nimble, strong. He's got a little pouch hanging from his belt and is making his way towards her house taking long, angry strides.
Madge is watching him half-hidden by the courtains that cover the small window above the sink, in her white and always pristine kitchen. There's still a good twenty yards before he reaches her door, so she spends her last ten seconds scaning his face from afar.
His brow is furrowed, his lips slightly pursed and his left hand is folded into a tight fist. He's always angry when he's anywhere near her and, as strange as it might be, Madge gets him. She really, really does.
Madge sighs and goes to stand by the stove. She makes an attempt at fixing her hair, but stops when she realizes it doesn't even matter at all.
There's a knock at the door and Madge patiently waits until she hears the second. Then, she opens the slim and battered wooden door the service uses to get in and out the Mayor's house.
And there he is. Scowling at her from above.
He looks weird, though. Without Katniss by his side, Gale Hawthorne looks less intimidating, less confident. It crosses her mind that he looks smaller, but it might just be her imagination.
"I've got strawberrys, if you're interested," he says, not even bothering to greet her first. But then again, why should he? His best friend just got reaped two days ago. There's probably a thousand problems at the top of his head as of right now and Madge understands that being polite to her isn't one of them. She eyes the small pouch at his waist and suddenly his cheeks blush bright red. "I know there's not as many as other days but –,"
"It's fine" she interrupts him, her voice soft and almost devoided of any real emotion, which comes as a blessing since she's trembling inside, because Gale Hawthorne and his gaze and his sturdy shoulders and grey eyes do that to her.
She tucks her hand into the pocket of her dress and hands him two coins, the usual price her father pays for the strawberrys they bring to them.
"Too much," he tells her, ever the elocuent. She notices the way his scowl deepens before he speaks again. "One should be enough."
Madge shakes her head no and takes the small sack from his hands, marvelling at how callused and strong they feel. She shivers at his touch, however brief it is. "That's the price we've always paid."
His eyes flash with anger, but she's not taken aback. He looks at her, taking his time to scan her from head to toe. First her golden hair, then her plain yellow dress. She notices his gaze lingering slightly at her chest so she crosses her arms around her waist, suddenly feeling very aware of herself.
He wets his lower lip with the tip of his tongue as his eyes slowly return to her face. "I'll bring you the rest tomorrow. You won't have to pay more for them."