I do not own The Hunger Games.

I was nominated by NurseKelly0429 with the prompt Boxing!Gadge.

Hit Me with Your Best Shot

Gale Hawthorne was almost past the door to the gym, working on auto-pilot, when he heard it. At first, he thought it was his imagination running on no sleep, black coffee and cleaning solution fumes. There. There it was again when he paused at the water fountain. Swearing. Mumbling. The thumping sound of something tentatively hitting the hanging bag. And…was that sniffling? He edged closer to the door, staying in the shadows. He definitely didn't want to surprise whomever had broken into the rec center in the middle of the night. Who knew what someone who was that desperate would do?

He caught sight of the glint of light on golden hair first. Like a halo, it formed a soft nimbus that was just visible in the slight swing of the black bag hanging from the ceiling. A slight build and white clothing were further discernable. He gaped when the creature cried out a muffled, "Fuck!" as she hit the bag with more force, and he finally recognized her.

His surprise got him moving into the light. "Undersee? What are you doing here?"

Madge Undersee, former Prom Queen and valedictorian of their high school graduating class stood on the mat and stared at him. She had the grace to look guilty, but also oddly defiant. Gale didn't remember that look from their high school days. In fact, she had always seemed confident and in control of everything, if a little uptight. His eyes skimmed over her: her hair was loose, her linen outfit was wrinkled, and there appeared to be droplets of blood on her pants. Never mind her red nose and swollen eyes, she was barefoot, in his gym, at midnight.

Gale approached her cautiously and asked again, "Are you alright? You seem…upset."

She looked away and sniffed again, dragging her nose across her arm. The unladylike gesture made her seem vulnerable in a way all of her former polish hadn't. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" she flipped her hair in an old-as-time gesture used by women everywhere. "Did you call the police? Or my dad?"

Gale held up both hands in a peaceful gesture. He didn't know what had her so fired up, but he wasn't going to chance making her more upset. "I haven't called anyone. Do you want to tell me what this is about?"

Madge sniffed again, then laughed a bitter, hollow laugh. "Did you hear about me and Thom? I'm sure it's all over town by now."

"I might have heard something. Why don't we sit down and tell me about it?"

She whirled on him. "I don't want to fucking sit. I'm tired of people telling me what to do. 'Be a good girl, Madge.' 'Do you homework.' 'Get good grades.' 'Save yourself for marriage, honey.' 'Thom's a good man. He'll wait for you.' Do you know what he called me when I found them together? He called me the oldest American virgin!" She paced in front of the bag. "I'm not though. I know lots of girls – women – who haven't done it yet. I'm only twenty-four!" She slid a glance his way, suddenly realizing he was actually listening to her tirade. She added defensively, "Okay, maybe not a lot of girls wait. But Katniss is still a virgin, I'm pretty sure. Right? So I'm not alone."

She seemed to want some sort of confirmation on that last point. It pained Gale to talk about his unrequited crush on his best friend, but Madge seemed pretty agitated. "I don't really know about Katniss's sexual status." He didn't seen any point in lying, since Madge was close to Katniss, too.

Madge resumed her pacing and waved his comment away like so many flies. "But you guys never had sex, right?"

"Um, Madge-"

That got him another glare before she bit out, "Don't 'Um, Madge' me. Don't. Yes or no, Gale?"

"No."

She crossed her arms in front of her, a triumphant look on her face. "There! See? And you would know if there are any Panem High virgins, right? After sleeping your way through most of our senior class-"

"Hey!" He reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her pacing, then angled her to face him. "I did not sleep with most of our class. And exactly where do you get off telling me how to live my life, Princess? Just because you had a crappy night because you found out your boyfriend was cheating on you-"

Madge pushed him. "I did not have a crappy night. Crappy I could have dealt with. I found them together. Together. As in, her head was in his lap and he was in her mouth and his hand was threaded through her hair-" She closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth like she might be sick. When the feeling passed, she continued in a lower voice, "He never let me do that, not once. He said that he wanted to wait until he could have all of me. But the whole time, he was with her. Four years, we were together. Four years of wondering why I seemed more frustrated than he was." She laughed harshly, "Well, now I know, don't I? Four years, totally wasted."

Gale's gaze was drawn to where her breath came in short gasps. It drew attention to fact that she wasn't wearing a bra under her linen blouse. He was rocked by the sudden, inexplicable image of laying her down on the mat and slowly unbuttoning that blouse until he could palm her small breasts. He wondered if she would smell like vanilla. Or flowers. Her skin would be cool and soft and oh-so-smooth under his lips. He was hard just imagining it: her writhing as he pulled the drawstring on her pants, the scrape of her fingernails down his back as he licked his way into her belly button and lower…

He shook himself out of his sudden fantasy. This was Madge Undersee! She had never looked at him, before tonight. Hell, he was shocked she even knew his name. Her sexual frustration was not his problem. "What?" he asked when her smirk registered.

"Do you ever feel like you're just waiting for your life to start?"

His patronized her with a twisted smile. Questions like that just showed how large the divide was between the two of them. "Gee, Madge…between taking care of my whole family, working full time, and trying to get some college classes under my belt, I don't have much time to wonder about stuff like that."

She recoiled as if struck. Perhaps no one had ever spoken to her that way; it certainly wouldn't have surprised him to hear that to be the case. Her hand fluttered up to her throat as her eyes widened. He was pretty sure she knew of his circumstances, but obviously hadn't heard it in such forthright terms. He took a perverse pleasure in rocking her little world. "God, I'm sorry. I must sound like such a spoiled brat." She blew out a heavy breath. All the fight in her seemed to go with it. After a minute of total silence, she said, "Thank you for not calling anyone or getting me in trouble."

"You're welcome. And I'm sorry for mouthing off. To answer your question, no, I'm not waiting for my life to start. It mostly feels like it's rushing by. One of these days I'm going to wake up and be a fat, forty year old guy with thinning hair and a paunch, drinking beer and talking about all the babes I nailed in high school."

She laughed a real laugh that didn't sound hollow at all. "I doubt that you'll be fat or have thinning hair. And I'm sorry about my assumption earlier. It's just that you were never alone."

"Yeah? Neither were you." He'd never noticed that Madge scrunched her nose when she was thinking. It was sort of adorable.

Finally, she nodded. "Fair enough. Friends?"

Gale nodded, then stared at the hand she held out to him. "Undersee, you're bleeding. Is that from the bag? Or did you wail on Thom?" Madge looked at her knuckles, which were red and swollen, blinking a couple of times as if not really sure. When she shrugged, he laughed. "I have to hand it to you, I never knew you had this much fight in you. Let's get you cleaned up."

She stopped him when he started to guide her from the room and pointed at the equipment. "Gale, you know how to use this stuff, right?"

"It's one of the perks of working here – I get to work out whenever I'm done." She gave him a slow and thorough once-over that burned every inch of skin under the janitor's coveralls he wore. If he were truthful, it also left him hard and a little breathless. Damn, but it seemed like she was talking about a lot more than the stuff in the old gym. "Why?"

"I want to learn how to use it. How to work the bag, handle myself and my body. I'm tired of having people tell me what to do, how to live my life. I want to take control. Would you teach me?"

He knew an invitation when he heard one, despite not having a college degree. Her could hear it in her trembling voice, practically feel it in the heat of her skin. Gale couldn't help himself: he returned her slow perusal. He took in her dainty, painted toes, her expensive clothing, the tips of her breasts that had tightened under her blouse, the blush that stole across her cheeks and the open and honest desire in her blue eyes. The fantasy image from earlier flashed: Madge, sweaty and moaning on the mat under him; opening herself to him; moaning as he sank into her.

He had no words. He wanted her.

Madge dropped her eyes from his. "Never mind. It was a dumb idea." She pulled away and strode to pick up her sandals.

Gale reached her in three strides. "Madge, wait." When she turned to face him, he shuffled his feet nervously. He wanted to ask so many questions. Why now? Why him? But Gale knew that timing was everything and that sometimes you ruined a gift if you asked too many questions. Instead, he moved close enough that he could count the freckles on her shoulders. When that didn't scare her, he skimmed his hand down her arm to loop their fingers together. "I'd love to help you."

She smiled as if the sun had just come from behind the clouds. And when he raised her swollen knuckles to his lips to gently kiss each one, she stepped closer. "Good," she murmured before tugging his lips down to hers.