Author's Note: New stand-alone story, not related to any of my other stories (though it shares some DNA with the characterizations in "The Campaign"). I'm posting the whole thing all at once rather than splitting it up since it's so hard for me to get computer time these days. Enjoy!

Madge straightened Gale's collar for what felt like the twentieth time as they waited on the front porch of the Undersees' house. His collar was fine—besides the fact that it was uncomfortable and he'd give anything to be in his paint-specked work clothes instead of this stiff, preppy button-down shirt—Madge was just anxious. This was their first dinner with her parents since they'd gotten engaged three months ago.

Madge's eyes skimmed over him one last time, though instead of her usual lingering, hungry assessment of his body, she was clearly seeing him through her parents' eyes, checking for flaws in his appearance.

"You'll try not to bite their heads off, right?" she said. "They're trying. Really. This is a good start."

Gale fought the urge to grimace. He was nowhere near as optimistic as Madge, but he didn't want to add to her worries. "I'll be good," he said, reaching for her hand and squeezing. "It'll be fine." Especially if they could get in, eat, and get out. "Think we'll be out of here by eight?" he asked, peering around Madge into one of the windows to see if her parents were near the door yet. He'd been up since five a.m. working on a kitchen remodel and didn't have much patience with the Undersees even under the best of circumstances.

"Sure," Madge said a little too eagerly, practically confirming there was no way they'd be free by eight o'clock.

The door opened seconds later, spilling light onto the porch and illuminating Madge so she looked like she was glowing, leaving Gale in the shadows. Mr. and Mrs. Undersee enveloped their daughter in hugs, offered Gale tight-lipped smiles and nods in greeting, and ushered them both inside. Madge handled the conversation—enthusiastic responses to the flurry of "So glad you could make it" and "How was the drive over?" comments. Within minutes, Gale and Madge had shed their overcoats, been armed with glasses of red wine, and were pulled into the Undersees' lavish living room, assured that dinner was nearly ready. Maybe they could just catch up while they waited, perhaps talk about the wedding party and the guest list?

Gale settled back in his seat and took a sip of wine, aware that this conversation did not involve him. The wedding was going to be approximately 75% Undersee guests and 25% Hawthornes, which was saying something considering the number of aunts, uncles, and cousins that Gale had. The Undersees apparently had a lot of business and social acquaintances they "had" to invite.

"It's important to them," Madge had pleaded in the weeks after they'd gotten engaged, when she'd started negotiating a resolution to the opening skirmishes of the Hawthorne-Undersee Engagement Hostilities. To say that her parents had been less than thrilled to learn of the engagement was an understatement. They'd only recently grudgingly accepted the idea that Madge was serious about Gale, nearly a year after she'd found a job in the city where he was living and moved to join him there. They never came out and said it, but Gale knew they didn't think he was good enough (meaning: rich or well-connected enough) for their family. Gale's own regard for the elder Undersees hadn't exactly soared when they backed down on their opposition if he and Madge agreed to a large wedding hosted by the Undersees. "I'm their only child and they really want this," Madge had said. "It's one day, Gale, and they'll pay for everything and arrange it all. I don't want a big fuss any more than you do, but as long as you and your family are all right with it, then I don't mind giving them this. We'll have the rest of our lives for us."

It was a testament to how much he loved Madge that he agreed, but agree he did. She'd handled all the planning decisions so far by phone with her parents; tonight was their first in-person meeting about the wedding. Everything had gone surprisingly smoothly so far, which only made Gale that much more suspicious.

"And is your little sister still interested in being a flower girl, Gale?" Mrs. Undersee asked, snapping his attention back to the conversation.

"Posy will be 13, Mom," Madge said. "That's a little old for a flower girl. I actually thought she could be one of my bridesmaids. I think she'd like that, don't you, Gale?"

Madge was smiling at him, but Gale frowned in response. "Posy'll be 12." Madge knew that—they'd gone to Posy's birthday dinner just last week. Madge didn't usually flub details about his siblings.

"No," Madge said slowly, "she just turned 12, so she'll be 13 the summer after this one."

Gale sat forward. "But the wedding's this summer."

Mrs. Undersee laughed lightly. "Oh, that's impossible. It's already practically February. We don't even have a venue yet! And we can't even tour possible locations until we nail down this guest list, sweetie," she said, turning back to Madge. "Now, hon, it wouldn't be too awkward if we invited the Bakers, would it? I know you and Calvin dated in high school. But Selena and I serve on the Cancer Society Board together and I'd really like for her to attend."

Mrs. Undersee kept rattling on about various guests while Madge tried to apologize to Gale with her eyes.

How did he miss that the Undersees had successfully pushed the wedding out an entire year? Had Madge told him? He admittedly didn't pay close attention when she got off her marathon phone calls with her mother and relayed to him the abbreviated version of whatever decisions they'd made, but this was major.

"Why does it have to be a summer wedding?" Gale broke in.

Mrs. Undersee stared at him as though he'd grown a third head. "Well," she said in a patronizing tone, "summer is the season for weddings. And you and Madge said you wanted an outdoor ceremony to feel 'closer to nature.'"

Gale set his wine glass down. He needed to keep his wits about him when battling the Undersees. Trust Mrs. Undersee to take the one mild preference he'd ever expressed about the entire wedding and turn it into a delay tactic.

"It doesn't have to be outside," he said evenly. "Madge?"

Looking between him and her mother, Madge bit her lip and slid her hands under the legs, scrunching her shoulders higher. She looked like she was trying to shrink into the sofa cushions.

Before she could respond, Mrs. Undersee spoke up again. "We already discussed this, Madge," she said testily. "Inside or out, pulling off anything sooner than the summer after next would be a logistical nightmare. We're cutting it close as it is. All the best vendors will be booked already, your father and I have those trips to Geneva and Provence to work around... And what did that scheduler tell us about the country club's availability, dear?"

Mr. Undersee picked up his cue and listed the myriad reasons why planning a wedding of this size any sooner than the following summer was on par with traveling to Mars. Gale was about to point out the obvious fact that the wedding didn't need to be so massive, but he noticed Madge watching him worriedly and bit his tongue. They'd have to talk about this later, when they were alone.

Eventually the cook came in and announced that dinner was ready, so they all relocated to the formal dining room. Madge tried to offer him a whispered "Maybe next spring would work?" as a concession, but he knew better than to get into it with her at dinner. He just needed to suffer through the next hour and a half, maybe two hours. He'd endured much worse than this before; he could handle David and Marilyn Undersee.

Not that much handling was necessary; he was as non-essential to the dinner conversation as he had been before. Madge tried periodically to give him context about the people they were talking about—the guest list deliberations continued, interspersed with gossipy updates about so-and-so's sons and daughters getting into Yale, or sailing through the Caribbean, or cashing in on a start-up's IPO—but Madge couldn't keep up and what did it matter, anyway? Gale figured the point was to exclude him and to make him, and possibly Madge, feel bad about their ordinary lives. It wasn't working on Gale and he hoped Madge was letting the comments slide off her back, too, though it was always hard to tell with her where her parents were concerned.

"So, Gale," Mr. Undersee said as the salads were being cleared, "How's work these days?"

"Picking up," Gale said neutrally.

"Glad to hear it. You know," Mr. Undersee mused, "people remodeling their homes is a good sign that they're prepping to put them on the market. The housing market may be bouncing back. We may need to do some re-balancing in our investment portfolio," he added as an aside to Madge's mom. "Remind me to call Angus on Monday."

Madge jumped in. "Gale landed a new client this week," she announced proudly.

The Undersees smiled and nodded approvingly. "Is that so?" Mr. Undersee asked.

Glancing at Madge, who was gesturing for him to keep talking, Gale said, "The guy whose kitchen we're working on right now referred his neighbor to us. That's all."

"That's not all," Madge said. Turning to her parents she added, "Gale and his friend Thom almost have enough extra business to start their own company."

"Almost, but not quite," Gale clarified. But things were looking good. He'd taken to driving past potential workshop locations on his way home each night.

Mrs. Undersee paused in pushing the risotto around on her plate to favor Gale with a frown. "And to pursue this venture... you would quit your job?"

He bristled, annoyed at the implication that he was irresponsible or didn't know how to manage his money. "Haven't worked the timing out yet," he said tersely.

Mr. Undersee smiled in Gale's direction, clearly seeking to diffuse the tension. "Well, as I always say, the power of word of mouth should never be underestimated. I attribute my early success at the bank to word of mouth. Which reminds me, Madge, whenever you're ready, I would be more than happy to set up that lunch for you and Sylvia. She went to Wharton too, and has some ideas on how you could spin your non-profit experience into a compelling personal statement. Non-profits need marketing and executive expertise, too." With that, he launched into his favorite topic: how great it would be for Madge to follow in his footsteps and cap off her English and music degrees with an MBA.

"Sure, maybe," Madge said noncommittally before deftly asking her mother a question about the fundraising auction one of her charitable groups had recently organized.

Madge had gotten her father off her back, as usual, and kept the peace, as usual, but it bothered Gale tonight more than it usually did. Was this why their wedding was getting pushed out a year? To give her parents more time to break them up and ship her off to graduate school, preferably far enough away that she'd leave Gale behind in the dust?

It wouldn't surprise him. The Undersees had initially been indifferent to Gale, though he hadn't realized until later it was because they'd never seen him as a serious prospect. In their eyes, he was clearly just Madge's college boyfriend, her experiment with dating someone from an undesirable tax bracket. After Madge graduated and moved back home, they'd more openly opposed him, arguing that he was holding her back and derailing her from her (their) goals. Things had gotten pretty hostile between Madge and her parents, and between Madge and Gale, culminating in what Gale thought of as the Breakup Phase. But none of their attempts at breaking up stuck, and after half a year of doing the long distance thing, Madge had landed her dream internship in Gale's city, working with the local symphony on music outreach programs in elementary schools. Her parents had eased up on their opposition, and aside from the recent flare-up of hostilities when he and Madge had gotten engaged, they seemed to have learned their lesson about overplaying their hand when it came to dictating the terms of Madge's personal life to her. At least, that's what Madge said; Gale had no plans to let his guard down.

Gale made it through dessert thanks to being able to play footsie with Madge. She hooked her foot around his ankle under the table and even that small physical link to her helped remind him that they were on the same side and that putting up with her parents was worth it. When Mr. Undersee started droning on about his wine tasting club's latest gathering at an up and coming new winery, Madge even wriggled her toes into Gale's shoe, which he knew was her way of showing that she was thinking about getting his clothes off later. He grinned at her as he took a sip from his wine glass and felt a flare of pride when she slowly licked some of the raspberry coulis off her lips. This was by far the best side-effect of dinners with the Undersees: rekindling Madge's lust for rebellion. She liked feeling like she was getting away with something with him.

Gale was ready to bolt for the front door the second the dessert plates were cleared, but unfortunately Mrs. Undersee had other plans: she wanted Madge to try on her old wedding dress.

"Oh," Madge said, smiling apologetically. "Um, that's really sweet, Mom, but I think I'd like to get my own dress."

Thank God. Gale felt the breath he'd been holding slip out. Creepiness averted. Madge outright declining instead of hedging meant he was in the clear.

"Really?" Mrs. Undersee sounded disappointed, or at least was acting that way. "Do you want to try it on anyway, just for me? I had it preserved so carefully all these years..."

Madge glanced helplessly at Gale.

"We're not in a hurry," he said, capable of this generosity now that he was reassured Madge wasn't interested in the dress. "I'll just wait in the living room." He could feel his mood improving already; they were almost home free. A few minutes alone to check the score on Vick's basketball game sounded like the perfect way to start to shake off the Undersee experience.

"Actually, Gale," he heard Mr. Undersee say. "Do you mind joining me in the study?"

Gale froze, mid-step. Mr. Undersee's serious tone was not promising.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, yes. Just a few things to go over with you."

It was obvious Gale wouldn't learn what those "things" were unless he went to the study, which made him uneasy. The study was Mr. Undersee's turf. Enemy territory. He warily followed Mr. Undersee down the hallway, and sat down in the leather armchair opposite the oversized desk. He felt distinctly like he was back in high school, getting hauled into the principal's office for missing too many classes. Only during high school he'd known that the principal was trying to help him.

"Now, Gale," Mr. Undersee said with a smile, "I believe Madge's mother and I have made it clear that we have some concerns about how young you and Madge are to be getting married. I know you both think you're old enough, but to us, well, it's a question of maturity and being truly ready to take on the adult world and all its challenges."

Gale had expected something like this, though he still wasn't sure how harshly to respond. Mr. U was spewing some serious bullshit. Did he honestly think getting married at 27 and 25—assuming the stupid one-year delay—was "too young"? Gale's parents had eloped at 18 for Christ's sake. He stared at Mr. Undersee, who was still smiling as though he weren't insulting Gale to his very core. Was Mrs. Undersee giving Madge a similar speech right now? Were the Undersees using a divide and conquer strategy?

"Madge and I are adults," Gale said in a deliberately measured tone. Madge wouldn't want him to cause a scene. "We're ready for this." He liked that he didn't sound defensive. It was more like he was trying to explain something rudimentary to an idiot.

"Oh, I don't mean to offend you, Gale," Mr. Undersee said quickly. "I know you've been helping support your family since your father passed away. You are a very responsible young man. To be clear, I'm more concerned about Madge. She's led a very sheltered life, and I worry that she hasn't thought through some of the... financial implications of marriage." Mr. Undersee smiled at Gale again, as if to convey they were on the same side on this—both just looking out for Madge—even though Mr. Undersee was at this very moment painting Gale as a threat to Madge's best interests.

"So," Mr. Undersee said, pushing a leather portfolio toward Gale, "I had our lawyer draft this agreement, to ensure Madge's assets are protected if... something were to happen between the two of you."

Gale opened the portfolio and found several typed pages with the words PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT across the top.

Mr. Undersee kept talking. "By no means does this imply that we have any concerns that you're marrying Madge for your own monetary gain. But our financial advisors and lawyers advised very strongly that we pursue this agreement in light of our ongoing financial support of Madge. As I'm sure you're aware, we are co-owners of her condo, and her car, and have set up several trusts for her living expenses and future education. We're hopeful that she can turn this internship with the symphony into a paid position and leverage it into a more financially rewarding career, but in the meantime we wanted to ensure that she maintained her accustomed standard of living despite her... well, I'll say rash decision to throw in with the symphony."

There was that infuriating smile again. Gale easily filled in what Mr. Undersee wasn't saying aloud: the Undersees still deeply disapproved of Madge moving closer to Gale and blamed him for it.

Continuing, Mr. Undersee said, "I'm sure to you and Madge it's inconceivable that anything could go awry in your marriage, but from our perspective, well, you two are very young. People change. Hope for the best, plan for the worst, I always say." He folded his hands together on the desk and gazed at Gale, the smile replaced now by the stern expression of the intimidating executive he was during business hours. "Now, you'll need to consult with a lawyer of your own before signing, of course, to be sure you understand all of the terms. But they really are just the standard provisions for this type of union where the individuals have such lopsided net worths. The goal is to protect both of you in the event of a dissolution, and to ensure that each party leaves the union with those assets they possessed beforehand."

Gale felt out of his depth, the words swimming in front of him. "Does Madge know about this?" he managed to get out.

"Of course," Mr. Undersee said, blinking innocently at Gale, as though it were a ridiculous question. But it wasn't, not to Gale. Madge always made it sound like she was perfectly aware of how her parents were trying to play her, and that she only let them get away with the bare minimum to keep them off her back. "She'll be the other signatory," Mr. Undersee pointed out, flipping to the back pages where the signature lines were. "It's an agreement between the two of you."

"So why isn't she the one asking me to sign this thing?"

"It wasn't ready until now—our lawyer just sent it over this week—and as you're surely aware, Madge doesn't like talking about or thinking about money."

That was true, unfortunately. Whenever Gale brought up figuring out where they'd live when they got married and what their rent budget might be, Madge always just waved her hands vaguely and said, "We'll figure all that out later! Don't worry!" Why her father thought she should go to business school in particular always stood out to Gale as a prime example of the Undersees' determination to ignore who their daughter actually was in favor of who they wanted her to be.

The older man continued speaking. "You know, Gale, I think it would provide Madge great comfort to know that you are prepared to sign this agreement to truly demonstrate how serious you are about marrying her on her individual merits, not for any of the financial rewards that one might otherwise assume are part of the package."

Gale was bothered on so many levels, he couldn't even figure out what to say to Madge's father and just kept staring back and forth between the blurry words on the paper and the balding, imperious man on the other side of the desk. The thought he kept coming back to was how sick and wrong it was that this man was going to be the only grandfather his children would know. His own father, who hands down would have been the best grandfather on the planet, if not the universe, would only ever be a photograph and a chuckling voice behind a handful of low quality home videos.

Before Gale could put any of his thoughts into words that might be even vaguely socially acceptable, the door to the study burst open and Madge stomped in, frowning at her father.

"Is this it?" she demanded, watching him while she snatched the papers from Gale's hands. "Mom just told me you were—. Dad. How could you not have talked to me before springing something like this on Gale?"

"Sweetie, we've been talking about it for months," Mr. Undersee said patiently.

"You've been talking about it," Madge corrected. "Not me. And you said we could figure it out next year."

"Well, the lawyer sent the draft over this week," Mr. Undersee responded, as though the lawyer was a rogue document-drafting machine nobody had any control over.

Madge shook her head. "This was not OK, Dad."

"Sweetie, Gale needs enough time to retain his own lawyer, review the terms, negotiate any he doesn't feel are fair—"

"We're leaving," Madge said, turning from her father to Gale. That was how Gale knew she was serious—they'd never walked out on her parents before. He was only too glad to follow Madge out the door.

Neither of them spoke until they reached Gale's truck outside. Gale exhaled as he fell back into his seat and closed the door.

"I'm so sorry, Gale," Madge blurted. "You don't have to sign it. Obviously."

He watched her for a few seconds to be sure she wasn't about to start crying. No, thankfully, she just seemed angry. Good, because he was angry too. He started the truck, eager to put some distance between them and the Undersee estate.

"So," Madge said, taking a breath of air, "we'll tell them we're not signing, and that can be the end of this."

"You think that would be the end of this?" Gale asked as he turned onto the street and headed toward the freeway. The sooner he could get up to speed, the better. "I don't even care about that pre-nup thing. Madge, why didn't you tell me you weren't getting paid at your job? Or that your parents own your condo and your car and whatever else? Why did I have to learn all that from your dad?"

"I... didn't think it mattered," Madge said weakly.

"Of course it matters," Gale snapped. "How you get food and shelter are the basics of survival. They matter."

"I was hoping the symphony would get a grant to fund my position once my initial internship ended," Madge said hesitantly, "but it fell through. I love my job so much and we're doing so much good work, we all agreed I should stay on in the same role while we tried to get permanent funding. My boss has been trying to work me into the next budget cycle... We've been getting some national press for the outreach program, which is good for marketing and could bring in enough revenue to justify keeping me... I just don't know yet."

"I've been trying to talk to you about this stuff for ages, Madge." And now, instead of knowing the very basics about his fiancée, he was caught flat-footed in a sneak attack by her snake of a father, unable to even respond because Madge hadn't been honest with him. Should he have been more suspicious of her? Pressed her for more details? She still bought as many new clothes and shoes as she did in college, but she seemed to have to look classy at work so he assumed her pay at the symphony matched their expectations about her appearance. She wasn't extravagant—that wasn't her style—but she didn't pinch pennies. He'd certainly never seen her clip coupons or agonize over which bill could be paid late with the fewest consequences.

"I guess I didn't want to admit that I wasn't being paid," Madge said. "I... worried you might be weird about it. And I thought we'd have plenty of time to talk about all this once my position was funded."

"Since the wedding isn't going to be for another year and a half," Gale finished bitterly. "Which everyone except me already knew." He wouldn't even have cared about a long engagement if he'd been involved in the decision. But everything about this evening felt wrong. He punched the gas, only to have to slow immediately again at a stoplight. Fucking city streets.

"I think," he said sourly, "your parents are purposefully delaying the wedding."

"Nothing's firm yet," Madge hedged. "I'm sure we could work out a way to have it sooner."

Gale could feel himself getting worked up. "They're delaying it on purpose to give them more time to pack you off to grad school—away from me, I'm sure the plan is—and set you up with some I-banker jackass or senator's son. And that pre-nup is bad news," he growled. "Signing it is like giving your parents a permission slip to call the shots in our lives for everything, and not signing means they're going to think I'm after your money." The irony was that the opposite was true—his life and his relationship with Madge would be a hell of a lot easier if she weren't rich. "They probably want me to not sign so they can use it as proof that I'm a gold digger or whatever they're called."

"You're just making stuff up now," Madge said. "None of that is going to happen."

The light changed and Gale rammed the accelerator, peeling up the freeway onramp. Once he passed a few cars with sorry excuses for combustible engines, he settled into a cruising speed just above the limit and felt marginally better. At least driving at higher speeds took more of his attention, leaving less available to stew at the Undersees. But seriously: how was he going to put up with these people as in-laws? The hour and a half drive suddenly didn't feel like a far enough distance from them. Was there a chance they'd retire to Florida? Or better yet, Hawaii.

After a few minutes, Madge spoke up again. "I don't know for sure that they're purposefully delaying the wedding or have ulterior motives with the pre-nup. When my mom was showing me her dress, she kept talking about Haymitch." Gale knew where this was going. Haymitch was Madge's late aunt's husband, an alcoholic the Undersees couldn't bring up without mentioning how he was currently drinking away everything Aunt Maysilee had owned. "My mom's still pissed that he wouldn't sell them the lake house when Maysilee died," Madge said. "It's trashed now and the neighbors always call my mom to complain about him. Then she complains to me." Madge glanced at Gale and said apologetically, "I've told her over and over that you're nothing like Haymitch, and she says she knows that, but..." Madge trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't know how to convince her."

"I don't think you can," Gale said tersely. Mrs. Undersee worked the fact that Haymitch was from "the hills" into every conversation about the guy. She always made sure to wrinkle her nose distastefully in case her tone wasn't enough to convey that anyone who came from "the hills" was trash. But if she had a problem with "the hills," Gale didn't want to think about how she described him to people. His old neighborhood, the Seam, didn't exactly have a great reputation.

"And she also kept talking about Katniss," Madge continued sullenly. "Like the fact that you dated her in high school is proof that you're going to cheat on me."

"That's ridiculous," Gale spat. Madge was his world and she knew that. Gale didn't appreciate feeling like he had to convince the Undersees of something that was obvious to him and to Madge.

"Of course it's ridiculous," Madge agreed, "which is why she'd never say it. She just frets and implies things."

The worst part, Gale thought, was only being able to fight back against the Undersees with one hand tied behind him; for Madge's sake, he couldn't attack them the way they deserved. He was going to have to deal with these people for the rest of his life and Madge was right that it wouldn't help any of them if he started World War III.

"All right," he said tightly, "Benefit of the doubt, they're doing all this because they don't want you to end up poor and divorced." It was insulting that they associated Gale with those possibilities, though not surprising given their prejudices. "But it all just boils down to how much you're going to let them tell you what you do. I don't like the way things are going, Madge. It's setting up a dangerous standard."

"I know," Madge said quietly. "I don't like it, either."

They drove in silence for a few exits, until Madge asked if he'd mind if she turned the radio on. He took it as a good sign when she landed on the classical station; he knew music helped her think.

She didn't say anything else on the drive until he pulled up in front of her condo complex, a new development in a trendy neighborhood. Under normal circumstances they wouldn't be able to keep their hands off one another by this time of the drive, and would barely make it inside her front door. But Gale couldn't look at the luxury building now without thinking of Madge's parents and how they were using it as a bargaining chip in their campaign to drive Madge away from him. Obviously he'd figured they had some role in Madge getting this place, but he hadn't known how heavy a hand.

"You're not coming inside?" Madge asked, her voice thin. He saw her staring at the keys in the ignition; he hadn't turned off the truck yet.

He couldn't bear the idea of hurting her and pulled into a parking spot on the street. But he still couldn't bring himself to go into her house, so they sat silently in the dark.

The pub across the street was still busy, making Gale wish they'd gone there for dinner instead. They'd had so many perfect weekends that started with grabbing a beer at the pub, getting tangled on Madge's couch afterward while they theoretically watched a movie, waking up the next morning with no plans other than soak one another in... They'd had a year of bliss, and now all he could think about was how he'd never feel truly comfortable in her house again.

"Gale?" Madge's voice sounded unsteady. "Do you still want to get married?"

"God, yes," he said, stung that she could doubt him. He turned and grabbed her hands. "Yes, of course, Madge." He made sure she could look into his eyes and witness his certainty.

It took a few seconds, but a shaky smile did finally break through Madge's worried expression. He leaned forward to kiss her and erase her doubts, and could tell it was working—he felt her returning to him, slipping into the early stages of what usually ended with a mad dash to her bedroom, or couch, or, every once in a while, the floor. He had more confidence in his body's ability to convince her than his words, and loved that her body spoke the same language, leaving him just as assured that she felt the same way.

"Gale," Madge said breathlessly as she pulled away, "what if we elope?" Her eyes took on the gleam she got when she was scheming and she sat up straighter. "Monday morning. We just go to the courthouse, get it over with. We could still go through with the big ceremony for my parents—let them have their show after the fact—but this would prove they can't control us!"

If she was expecting him to jump for joy at this plan, she was mistaken. "What if I don't want our wedding to be something we just 'get over with'?" he asked. "And do you want to be the one to tell Posy the whole thing's off? Or my Ma?"

Madge bit her lip, watching him closely. "They'd understand. Your family's the easy part. They always want what's best for you, and for us. They'd never pressure us into anything we didn't want."

That was true, and Gale didn't miss the hint of bitterness that crept into Madge's voice. He was all too aware that his family was a refuge while hers was a source of stress.

He softened his tone. "All right, but the bigger problem is: how would eloping actually fix any of this?"

Madge looked into her lap and fiddled with the clasp on her purse. "We'd be showing them that we make our own decisions in life."

"How? Would you move out of your house? Give back your car?" Gale glared over Madge's shoulder at her condo building. "I'm not living in their house."

"It's my house," Madge insisted, looking up. "I picked all the furniture and art... They wouldn't actually kick us out..."

Gale shook his head.

Madge frowned. "It's not like we have another option."

"Get our own place."

"How? I don't even have an income! And I saw your paycheck—you don't make enough for us to live anywhere decent."

Gale let her words sink in. "Decent?" They spent 99% of their time at Madge's place instead of his—it just made sense, since he and his three roommates shared a cramped house on the other side of town and she had this entire luxury condo to herself near all the best nightlife—but he'd assumed privacy and not bothering his roommates were the main motivators for Madge. That's what she always said, at least. "What's 'decent'?" he asked. "An overpriced cookie cutter development with a doorman and a pool?"

Madge blanched at the dig, but recovered quickly. "You're saving to start your own business, Gale. You need to focus on that."

He wasn't going to let her divert him. "You'd rather let your parents dictate every little aspect of your life than live in anything less than this?" He gestured toward her condo.

"No!"

"Well that's what it sounds like, Madge!"

"What do you want me to do, break up with my parents?" Madge asked, her voice rising to match his. "Tell them to take a hike, explain that my boyfriend doesn't like them? Then I'd have to sit through a lecture about how you're exhibiting controlling, unhealthy behavior that I should really be careful about." Madge made a strangled sound. "What am I supposed to do? I can't win!"

Gale couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Your parents think that about me? That I'm controlling? Are they worried I'm going to hit you or something?" The idea of anyone hurting Madge made him nauseous.

"No, of course not," Madge said, but it was obvious she'd already endured similar lectures during the bad time that led to their breakup phase. That was the Undersees' style: seeking to manipulate through through insinuation and suggestion. Overt statements would be too easy to deny and ignore.

"I know they're not perfect, Gale," she said in a shaky voice. "Not everyone's parents are as amazing as your mom. But... I can't just cut them out of my life. I'm all they have, and my mom's health is better now, but who knows for how long? And, well, you're not the only person who cares about family."

Gale gritted his teeth, his head suddenly pounding. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He hadn't foreseen this twist in the battle with the Undersees, and how they might use his attempts to fight their influence to make him look like the bad guy. How do you deal with an enemy like that? The fact that Madge was still trying to accommodate their twisted behavior was what hurt the most, though. You can't negotiate when the other side is completely wrong, the way the Undersees were. Why couldn't she see that?

"Madge," he said, still not looking at her, not looking at anything really. "You need to decide what you want. Not me, not your parents. Let me know when you figure it out."

He didn't need to turn his head to know that she was staring at him, waiting for him to look at her. He couldn't, though. She needed to figure this out on her own, and if she couldn't, then he wasn't sure she was who he thought she was. He stared at the darkened indicators on his dashboard, which left him with the momentary impression that he was sitting in an abandoned vehicle at the bottom of a vast canyon. Alone and not going anywhere.

Eventually he heard Madge open her door. He didn't look over, even when he heard the door quietly click shut.

It sounded more final than a slam.

Madge stood in front of the bright red door to her condo unit but couldn't bring herself to open it. Gale was supposed to be here with her. How could she go in, alone? How could she go to sleep without him, knowing he was upset with her? What had happened? She felt the pressure to cry start to build in her chest and squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears inside.

Before she realized where she was going, she found herself walking back down the stairs and cutting across the alley outside, making her way down the block to Peeta's apartment building.

He didn't seem thrilled to see her, which made sense when Madge caught a glimpse of Katniss behind him in the living room. She belatedly remembered them talking about having a date tonight.

"Hey, Madge. You need your spare key again?"

She shook her head, suddenly unable to explain why she'd shown up unexpectedly. That would make it seem more real, and she shouldn't be bothering Katniss and Peeta, who didn't get to see each other often enough and no doubt didn't want their limited time together soured by Madge's problems.

Katniss, hair rumpled, extricated herself from the nest of blankets on the couch and walked over. "Hey," she said with a concerned expression. "Something happen with Gale? Didn't you guys have that dinner with your parents tonight?"

Madge haltingly nodded and sat down on the kitchen stool Peeta offered her. "I didn't mean to interrupt you guys, I just couldn't be in my house." If it even was her house. Her parents could take it away with the snap of their fingers.

Peeta made a don't worry about it gesture as he opened the refrigerator and offered her a beer, which she accepted gratefully. He passed Katniss a bottle and opened one for himself as well. When he and Katniss settled onto their own stools on the other side of the kitchen peninsula from Madge, he nodded at her, encouraging her to talk.

"We did go over to my parents' house tonight to talk about the wedding," she started, taking a sip of the beer. "They tried to get him to sign a pre-nup."

Peeta winced and then shrugged half-heartedly. "That's not a huge surprise, is it?"

"It was to him," Madge said glumly, annoyed that she hadn't set firmer rules with her father. It really was out of line for him to corner Gale the way he had.

"From your parents' perspective, a pre-nup probably isn't a bad idea," Peeta said. When Katniss looked askance at him, he added, "though I could see Gale taking it the wrong way."

"He took it as proof that my parents are trying to break us up. He's convinced they're out to get him." Madge could tell from Katniss's expression that her friend didn't think the idea was outside the realm of possibility and explained, "I think, yeah, they'd rather we not get married yet—they always say we're too young, which I know could be code for all sorts of things. But still, I do think they're trying to like him despite their instincts, and the pre-nup was more about them looking out for their money." As she spoke, she heard how her explanation didn't sound much better than Gale's concerns, which to be honest she couldn't entirely rule out. It had occurred to her that her father could have been deliberately trying to scare Gale away, since who in their right mind would want to marry into a family as messed up as hers?

Madge set her beer on the counter, no longer in the mood for it. Closing her eyes, she wished she could transport herself back in time to right before she and Gale had gotten engaged, when they were just happy living their simple life of spending as much time together as they could. Finally both finished with school, they had the freedom to just exist, checking out concerts, exploring the city, camping and rafting when the weather cooperated, barbequing with friends, visiting Gale's family... That's all she wanted: a return to that happy time.

"What am I going to do?" she asked, opening her eyes. "How can I pick between Gale and my family?"

"He's making you pick?" Katniss asked with a frown. "That doesn't sound like him."

Madge hesitated, thinking back to Gale slumped over the truck's steering wheel and what he'd actually said. "No," she corrected, still haunted by the memory of how miserable and alone he looked, and the knowledge that she was the one who'd made him feel that way. "But he always thinks the worst of my parents, and they do the same for him. They're never going to get along. I'm going to be stuck in the middle of a lifetime's worth of fighting."

"Gale fights with everyone," Katniss pointed out. "Even Peeta. He wouldn't be Gale if he didn't fight back when something didn't sit right with him."

That was true, and admittedly something Madge loved about Gale. He was so principled. It just felt different somehow when he was fighting with her parents—it ended up feeling like an extra burden she had to shoulder, like she had to soak in the hostility being directed from either side in the war to keep her universe from exploding.

Peeta put his hands on the counter and leaned forward, watching Madge closely. "I've known your parents a long time, Madge, and I know they mean well, but... I can see where their priorities might not necessarily line up with yours and Gale's. I mean, I get the sense that they aren't going to get off your back until you're working on Wall Street and you make the weddings section of the New York Times."

"I don't want any of that."

"Yeah," Peeta said with a shrug. "I know. I'm sure Gale does, too." He didn't connect the last dot, letting Madge draw the conclusion on her own. She did: her parents were the ones who wanted something different. Their expectations were the ones that were off. She knew that, of course, but hearing how clear it was to an outsider made it seem that much more obvious.

Katniss looked up from fiddling with the label on her beer bottle. "Family is everything to Gale," she told Madge. "He would never deliberately do anything to come between you and your parents. The thing is, I think he thinks of you as his family now. So what's he supposed to do?"

What was Gale supposed to do, Madge wondered as she walked back to her own house later. She hadn't put together how cornered he probably felt: her parents were terrible to him and caused her a lot of anxiety, neither of which were situations he could stomach, yet out of respect for her and her parents' role in her life, he couldn't do much about it. No wonder he'd looked so miserable. If there was one thing he couldn't handle, it was feeling powerless. The knowledge that she was the reason he felt that way sat like a lead lump in her stomach.

Madge needed to think on her own, and ended up sitting in the middle of the darkened tennis court at her condo complex, accompanied only by the tinny swells of Shostakovich spilling out from the piddly speakers on her phone. The night was still, aside from the occasional distant drunken laugher of groups stumbling home from the bars, which made Madge feel even more alone. All those people were having fun, the way she usually did when she and Gale were together, or hanging out with Katniss and Peeta or their other friends. She loved her life here, she knew that. Her house was amazing and felt like hers even if it wasn't, and she loved her job and her friends in the neighborhood. She also loved her parents (flawed as they were), and of course Gale was as essential to her as air... So why couldn't she have all of those things at the same time?

Slowly the stream of revelers dried up, leaving Madge feeling like she and the owls were the only beings still awake. Acutely aware that Gale hadn't tried to call her—why would he? it was just wishful thinking because she missed him—she trudged up the stairs to her condo, dreading the emptiness. But as she rounded the corner to her hallway, she was greeted by the sight of Gale, sitting just outside her door.

He was resting his head and back against the wall, his raised knees propping him up. His collared shirt was unbuttoned now, revealing one of his basic white T-shirts and making him resemble the Gale she knew rather than the camouflaged version she'd tried to present to her parents. He looked exhausted, but more than that, Madge felt her stomach twist at the hurt on his face. His eyes followed her as she approached, but he didn't stand up when she reached him, just peered up at her. Then he hooked his hand around her ankle and rubbed his thumb softly over her skin, which felt impossibly good.

She sank slowly to the ground, watching him until their faces were level. Leaning forward, she moved to kiss him, tentatively at first. She wasn't sure exactly what his presence here meant, but he kissed her back, quickly filling her with the familiar, complete understanding of how deeply he loved her. Then again, she knew that—and that wasn't the problem between them.

Gale broke the kiss and met her eyes. "Are you saying hello, Madge? Or good-bye?"

"Hello," she whispered before kissing him again. "It's always going to be hello." He wrapped his arms around her this time, pulling her onto his lap. Madge felt like devouring him, as though they'd endured months apart instead of a few hours. This was exactly why their post-graduation attempts at breaking up had been such a spectacular failure—they wanted each other too much to stay away for long. Finding him again always felt like landing on a soft cushion after a free-fall.

"Have you been here this whole time?" Madge asked after the initial fervor of their mini-reunion had worn off.

"I couldn't leave." Gale's tone was half scolding (how could she think he'd leave her for long?) and half an admission that he couldn't leave even if he'd wanted to. "You weren't home, so I was waiting for you to come back."

"I couldn't go inside by myself," she said, sliding off his lap to sit next to him against the wall. "So I went to see Peeta and Katniss, and then I did some thinking outside... I know something has to change, Gale." She saw that he was listening attentively, with wary hopefulness, and kept going. "I don't like the way my parents are treating either of us. It's not right and it's not how I want things to be. I don't know how to get them to see that I'm more than a little mouse who's going to scamper off to business school so they have something to brag to their friends about, or that you're worth a hundred of whoever they'd rather I were dating, but it's not going to be by going along with this wedding. We're the ones who decided to get married, and we're the ones who should decide the when and the how."

Gale let out a heavy breath and tightened his arms around her. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that, Madge." After a pause, he added, "You're not doing this because you think it'll make me happy, are you? Because my whole point was that this has to come from you—"

"No," she said, all too aware of why he might be concerned about that. She couldn't keep ping-ponging back and forth depending on what other people wanted from her. "I think you were right," she admitted, settling into his embrace and stretching an arm across his chest. "Giving them the wedding opened the door to them trying to control us in other ways. They're... like a stray cat that's going to keep coming back for more food."

Gale snorted lightly. "I would kill to see your mom's reaction to being told she's a stray cat."

"Well, I won't be mentioning that to her, will I?" Madge murmured, thinking absently of Katniss's sister's mangy-looking cat Buttercup and how horrified her mother would be to be compared to any kind of animal, let alone one that looked like it had lost a fight with a rabid raccoon.

After a pause, Gale asked, "What will you be telling her? Are you actually going to say we don't want a big wedding?"

Madge grimaced. That was not going to be fun. "I guess I have to. The pre-nup will come in handy. It lays out exactly which strings I need to snip if I'm going to be independent."

"Madge, I wasn't asking you to give up—"

She cut him off. "I can't say I want to be independent and not be ready to act on it." Sitting up, she gazed at Gale. "I know you didn't actually ask me to give up everything, and maybe they won't either, but it's the principle." She swallowed, sure and unsure of herself at the same time. "And it's the right thing to do, part of growing up and all that, but... setting these limits affects you, too. I may have to get a different job, or stay with you until I get on my feet."

"Of course," Gale said.

"I may still want a long engagement, too, so I can prove to myself that I'm not going straight from depending on my parents for everything to depending on you for everything."

"You can, though. Depend on me for everything," Gale said, swiveling to face her. "I mean it, Madge. I will always have your back. Whatever I have is yours." She saw how serious he was, and how easy it was for him to give her everything, which made her even more embarrassed about her parents springing that horrible pre-nup on him, setting up a situation to haggle over every last dollar. "But," Gale added, "I get what you're saying about proving this stuff to yourself, and I'm 100% behind whatever you want to do."

She knew he would be and was grateful for it, but that didn't change the fact that she was facing a giant chasm of potential discord with her parents between wanting independence and getting it. How would she ever find the right words to tell them to forget the past three months of planning, she and Gale had changed their minds on the wedding, and by the way wouldn't be signing the pre-nup either so please feel free to take her name off any assets they wanted to use to control her major life decisions? First would come the insinuations that Gale had manipulated her, followed by the recriminations about how much they'd invested her in education and how could she just throw everything away that they'd given her?

She smiled weakly at Gale and crossed her arms over her stomach, which was already starting to feel queasy.

"Madge? What is it?" Gale asked, concern softening his voice.

"It's just... going to be hard," she said quietly. "They won't be happy with me."

"They'll come around."

Madge wasn't so sure about that. She stared glumly at a scuffmark on the hardwood floor in front of her. "They have this... slow-burn disapproval that... lingers. When I do something they don't like, they'll keep bringing it up, like tonight at dinner when my dad started harping about me going to business school, or how they think we're too young to get married."

Gale sat silently for a few moments, and then said, "I think it's brave of you to be willing to set these limits with them."

"It doesn't feel brave. I feel like an ungrateful brat, disappointing them and causing them more stress—"

"No. Stop. It's brave. Standing up to them takes guts. You've got this idea that you have to do what they want for them to love you, but that's not how it works. They love you. I know they do. And even if they do get upset, it won't last. Look at the things you've already done that they haven't been happy about—majoring in music, moving here to work with the symphony and be with me, getting engaged. Those are all things that you know were the right decision. They've tried to adjust—not as hard as they should be and obviously they're not above using every trick they can think of to change your mind—but at the end of the day they want the best for you. It'll just take some time for you to show them that your definition of best is the one that matters. It'll happen, though."

Madge wished she could borrow some of Gale's certainty. "Can we just skip ahead to five years from now when this is all sorted out?" she asked wearily, rubbing her eyes to chase the sticky, dry feeling away. In five years, Gale would be a successful business owner with dozens of employees, totally dominating the tri-state market, she would be doing... something she liked and actually got paid for, and her parents would see that they had nothing whatsoever to worry about.

"No skipping ahead," Gale said solemnly. "I'm not missing even five seconds of our life together. This stuff—the hard stuff—is just as important as the fun stuff."

She looked over at him, surprised at his seriousness. He was right, and she was flooded again with the conviction that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Everything else in her life could be a swirling mess, but Gale was always going to be on her side, always ready with a warm embrace and the words she needed to hear, difficult or not. He made her feel like the luckiest person in the world.

"Have I told you today how much I love you?" she asked, grabbing his collar to pull him closer.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "Yeah. In a million little ways. Though," he said as he glanced at Madge's door, "I can think of a few more ways." He grinned mischievously and asked, "You want to stay here, or are you ready to start slumming it at my place?"

"Don't say that," Madge said, ducking and burying her head in his neck. She was still embarrassed she'd let on how much she preferred her house to his. Dealing with his roommates, who never met a dirty plate they didn't mind leaving in the living room for days on end, was a small price to pay.

When she peeked up, she could see Gale watching her with raised eyebrows and the trace of a smirk. "I know my house isn't decent, but doesn't a little indecency sound pretty good?"

That did it—she started laughing. She stood up and pulled him to his feet as well. "Indecency sounds perfect. I just need to grab some things in here first."

Gale slid his arms around her waist as she unlocked the door. "I love you, too, Madge," he murmured into her ear, sending a delicious tingling sensation down her spine. "And we're going to be all right."

"I know," Madge said with a smile, leaning back into him.

Author's Note: I got the idea for this story after listening to a podcast that talked about pre-nups. It seemed like a Gadge plotline waiting to happen, and I wanted to write about some of the complications that could arise in an established Gadge relationship. Please let me know what you thought! And: HUGE thank you to the lovely and generous DamnDonnerGirls for giving me helpful suggestions on an earlier draft!