A/N:

Hey guys, just a one-shot that I've been thinking up for a while. Taking a break from my chapter fanfic (Heartlines, check it out!) because no one loves me enough to review.

But all kidding aside, please review- especially if you favorite or alert! I will really appreciate it, and it will definitely motivate me to write more!

This one-shot can stand alone, but I wrote it initially to give more insight into Cato and Clove's story in Heartlines, and to give some perspective on Cato's character and his feelings for Clove. I tried to keep it in-character and believable, and not too sappy, so please tell me whether I'm doing it right! So review!

Disclaimer: Alexander Ludwig, why won't you love me! Oh wait, it's because I don't own any part of the Hunger Games universe. Actually, let's be honest, it's probably for a lot of different reasons.

.

.

She doesn't smile when he kisses her for the first time.

The night after the Reaping, while they ride to their deaths, she taps on his door. He opens it half-dressed and groggy from a fitful sleep. She blinks in surprise, and eyes his bare chest apprehensively while he bites back a smile. In the silence, he absentmindedly notes the clicking of the train on the track. A constant reminder that in a few weeks, only one of them would be alive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to talk strategy." she starts awkwardly.

"Now?" he asks teasingly- because he knows that she really just wants to talk to him.

She stiffens, but tilts her nose up superiorly. "… Yes. Future victors don't waste precious time."

He stares her down, "You're so full of shit, Clove. But fine. Strategy sounds good, come on in." He leans in over her, uncomfortably close, presumably to let her in.

Her eyes linger on the messy bed, and then travel back to his shirtless chest. "I… I think it'd be better in the dining car. I'm actually kind of hungry."

He's a little disappointed that she doesn't take the bait. But that's why he likes her. She doesn't let him mess with her. "Come on, Clo. The bed's way more comfortable."

She looks up at him, small but fierce. She jerks up her chin like she always has when accepting a challenge. "Fine." She slips past him, soft hair brushing against his neck, and he forgets about the Games for a second.

She sits on his bed, flexing her fingers. That's how he knows she's nervous around him too. Smiling, he sits on the bed, back resting against the headboard. She shifts around so she can face him, and he lets himself enjoy the sight of her tangled in his sheets. He is a boy after all.

"So alliances?" she begins. He suggests the usual, District One and Four- with maybe the boy from District Eleven too. She nods in agreement, and they fall into an easy conversation. These lazy talks with Clove, that's what he'll miss the most. How they understand each other better than anyone else, how they're not afraid to be honest or blunt. In the background, the clicks continue their steady pace.

Yes, he'll miss her honesty most of all. Clove, so truthful it hurts, drags him in deep with her dark eyes. He can't breathe, can't blink, when she promises to kill him, the words rolling off her tongue slowly but surely.

He doesn't expect anything less from her. This… thing… they have, it doesn't change anything. He wish it didn't have to end this way, but he'll be damned if he dies for Clove. They've only trained for this their entire lives. Nothing, not even a pretty girl with blazing eyes, can change that.

He shifts onto his side, so she'll take him seriously. "Not if I kill you first, Princess."

She's so close, pale and perfect in the moonlight, and he swears he sees pain flash over her features. She whispers quietly- almost as if she cares for him too. "… I'm glad we're on the same page then." She avoids his eyes and studies the molding on the wall instead. The clicks echo in the silence.

He's moving closer, watching her face hungrily- when she turns to face him again, he's so close that she doesn't have time to pull away before he kisses her.

She doesn't react like he's used to with other girls, all moaning and tongue, but she doesn't pull back either.

Her lips, surprisingly soft, move with a fierce urgency. It seems to be more desperation than lust. He doesn't notice though, because she parts her lips a little bit, and he's so far gone.

But too soon, she does push him away by his shoulders. He's grinning like an idiot, but she just sits there with a solemn expression, lips somehow pursed attractively.

-he thought he felt something between them a few minutes ago, but now, Clove looks at him like he'll never be anything more than her training partner.

"Clove?" he whispers hesitantly. "Are you okay?" Relentlessly, the clicks continue in the stillness, louder than ever.

She blinks at him in the most troubled way possible. "Why would I be okay?" It's not really a question, so he lets her finish."Why would I be okay after you kissed me while we're riding off to kill each other." She looks so troubled, so full of regrets, that he almost feels guilty.

He raises his hand to push back the hair from her face. But he remembers himself, and stops. He doesn't do that kind of stuff. His hand still hovers in the air though, doubtful.

-is he second guessing himself?

Nevertheless, he tries to soothe her in his own blundering way. "Hey now, Clove. It's not like it changes anything, right?"

At the sound of this, she stops. "It doesn't change anything." she repeats, more to herself than to him- but she looks more upset than ever, and he's not quite sure why.

"I mean, it didn't mean anything, right?" he continues, feeding her things she needs to hear. "Just one of those things we needed to try once before the Games, right?" His face tries to twist into something resembling a smile- the clicks of the train track are practically deafening now.

Her shoulders slump. "Right." she reaffirms, choking a little. She looks defeated, he notes. He lets himself hope that maybe she feels something for him. "Right." she sighs again.

She looks gorgeous in her misery. He must be messed up, because it almost turns him on. "But I mean, we can try it more than once too…," he trails off suggestively, already leaning in again.

This time, she pulls back though. "Stop." she grits out furiously, delicate shoulders tensed up again. "I won't be made a fool of, understand?" She gets up from the bed abruptly.

He doesn't understand. He feels wounded, probably from the rebuff- but he can't shake the feeling that he's screwed up, failed her somehow.

"Clo-" he calls out. "Wait, Clove." But she doesn't turn back, and in the morning, it's like it never happened.

.

.