A/N: My apologies for my inability to write nowadays. Here goes a tiny pointless thing just because. Few lines directly from canon in between the fanservice. I don't own anything THG-related, just a headful of mess.

Little Closer

I.

"I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" Gale plucks a few blackberries from the bushes around us. "And may the odds…" He tosses a berry in a high arc toward me.

I catch the delicious offering and bite down before finishing with a loud, affected, "…be ever in your favor!"

We burst out laughing at our attempt to mimic Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to escort two kids to their deaths.

It's a bad joke, but we still repeat it year after year, laughing off the reminder that the odds are never in our favor. Whether we get reaped or survive long enough to end up in the mines, our future is underground.

It's hard to think about that right now - under the glorious blue sky, with soft breeze in our hair and sunlight on our skin, and with miles of lush greenery separating us from our coaldusted prison of a district.

The breakfast we're ready to dig into is uncommonly luxurious too. Gale bought a small loaf of bread from the baker for only a squirrel, and Prim left us a lump of goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves to go with it. Gale cuts the bread and spreads it with the soft cheese, while I pick a handful of berries for us to share.

We settle in our hidden nook in the rocks, cramped but comfortable in each other's space.

Gale's body is almost as hard as the rock, all bones thinly wrapped in wiry muscle, but so much nicer to lean against. I'd taken off my hunting jacket to soak up the sun, but I'm even more aware of the warmth from my companion, seeping right into me through the worn fabric of our shirts. It seems to connect us somehow, and I catch myself thinking how damn precious the connection is.

Drawing my knees up to my chest, I settle back, my head falling against the top of Gale's shoulder, and feel him shift slightly to accommodate me.

We all feel a little closer today.

I meant something else back when I'd said it first - that we are all slightly more willing to help each other out, slightly more united against a common enemy. But I guess it applies to Gale and me too, even though there's hardly any closer us to go. We are used to sitting close enough to touch – our thighs aligned and arms brushing with every movement, to spending long, silent hours together and completely trusting each other while we are at it, to sharing duties and burdens as well as laughs and encouragement.

As if we were one in all but the physical sense, which is as scary as it is intriguing. Voicing a decision to change that would mean acknowledging things, it would mean saying this is what we have and this is what we can lose. Gale is not saying anything either, he knows I don't want to hear it. Not when he has forty-two slips in the reaping bowl and I have twenty, and Prim has her first one, and even that is too much. Gale's not really mine because he can slip through my fingers any day, especially today, in just a few hours… but the futile desire to fight that burns deep, a mix of fear and need and possessiveness in equal measure.

We are a promise with no guarantee of keeping, but sometimes I'm more afraid of letting it go unfulfilled than of fulfilling it.

I wonder if he feels like that too, if he wants to somehow fuse us together just because, just in case. I don't even know what exactly it is that I want. I have overheard girls at school talking about all kinds of things to do with boys. Even about Gale in particular. Of course they'd want him, with his looks and strength and unfailing devotion to his family. I've always hated that, but I always told myself I just don't want them to lure my hunting partner away from me.

I hate it still, even after I've come to believe he's not going to leave me for anyone, ever.

After all, why would he? They don't know him like I do. I know the sound of Gale's heartbeat and how it speeds up when I get close enough to touch, steadily thumping away the seconds of waiting for prey. My own always joins the rhythm. I know when he smiles genuinely and when he just puts on a grin to keep his siblings obliviously happy, or a smirk to charm people into giving him a better trade. I know when to argue and when to let him talk; I can read every twitch of his expression.

I know everything but what to do with him when we get a bit too close and the warmth of his body makes me tingle for more. I wish I had enough time to figure it out. I usually don't let myself bother, but the stress of today is different, shadowed by a menace that sends my nerves into an overdrive. We'll have to be back in the town square at two o'clock, and sign in with a bloodprint to assure the Capitol that our bodies ultimately belong to them. Then we'll have to stand and wait whether we'll be reaped apart and away from our world.

It seems especially beautiful today, with the valley under us sunlit and inviting, full of life to thrive on. I savor the sight, my body relaxed and content with the pleasant aftertaste of breakfast still lingering in my mouth. The moment feels too good to last and let's face it, it can't, but I don't want to care, at least for a few more minutes

I shift my head on Gale's shoulder, looking up at him. He is staring far ahead too, but his forehead is furrowed in thought.

"We could do it, you know," he says, very softly, without tearing his gaze away from the far horizon.

I don't think I have to ask, but I still do. "What?"

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it." He's finally turned to me, and the words brush my face. I breathe the prospect in. It turns the fresh air even sweeter.

"You know we can't," I remind him, automatically and unnecessarily.

"I know," he concedes. Running away with our families would be too risky – especially today, when our absence would be easily noted – and we'd never leave them behind.

It was stupid of him to mention, stupid of me to consider even for a second. So tempting, though… Then we'd have all the time in the world. To figure things out and everything.

But that's a luxury we can't afford.

In fact, we should have already gotten up and gone about our business, stocking up for the days when we'll have to kill lots of time by mandatory watching… if we are lucky.

"We'd better go. Hunting, I mean," I mutter, almost irritably.

"Yeah."

Gale hadn't bothered to pull away, his breath fans over my skin. Reinforcing my body's decision that leaving our warm and comfortable almost-embrace is the last thing I want to do. Gale can read me well enough to know that. I'm still avoiding his eyes, but end up staring at his lips instead.

Perhaps for too long, perhaps not for long enough, because he leans down and presses them against my forehead.

He moves to pull away after a brief, careful kiss, but I don't quite let him and stretch my hand to touch him – it's not like I should, but I suddenly have to, just to make the memory of his features more tangible.

Just in case. One has to be prepared for hard times, right?

Gale looks anything but fragile, with healthy sunkissed skin taut over chiseled bones, but I find myself touching him with utmost care, is if the moment could shatter if I make a wrong move.

We look similar to a certain extent, the colors of our eyes and hair and skin almost matching, but most people from the Seam resemble each other that way. So much that the Capitol announcers like to 'joke' about not being able to tell a pair of tributes from Twelve apart from the last year's unfortunates. To them we may be alike, but we are different enough when you care to look properly.

I'm close enough to see my reflection in Gale's eyes, framed with silvery irises. Just a tiny, fleeting imprint, but I like that.

I know Gale's features by heart, but touching his face is much more interesting than just looking. At first he seems stunned by the sudden display of affection, but then his face breaks into a grin, so wide and hopeful it almost breaks my heart. He hides it, then, turning his head and pressing his lips against my palm. His fingers close around my wrist, holding it like a tiny bird that had fallen out of its nest. Torn whether to take it or to put it back. I guess he should do the latter, return me to myself before I give too much away.

But he's holding on, and I can't bring myself to mind all that much. Perhaps I could both give and take, and everything will turn out okay.

"Catnip?" he mutters into my palm.

"Hmm?"

He gently pulls my hand away from his face, but doesn't let go. "If I started telling you how much you mean to me, and how much I want this to last, would you ever forgive me?"

It takes me a moment to process the question. Then I burst out laughing.

"No way," I choke out in between. "Don't you dare. Not a word."

"Good. Just checking." Gale's lips twist into a wry smile. As my laughter dies, I watch them carefully, their imprint still burning in my palm, on my forehead. There is something I do want to know, but how do I tell him?

"It's more than I could say anyway," he continues, cupping my face and lightly running his thumb over my cheekbone, just like I'd done to him moments earlier. I think his eyes tell me, more than I'd dare to hear, but I can't bring myself to break the contact. "So if I can't say a word, just remember this, okay?"

Gale leans in slowly, giving me all the time I'd need to stop him, but I don't, not until his lips touch mine and not after.

I hold onto him as tightly as I can, demanding more for every kiss I give and giving more for every kiss I get.

It's just today, I keep telling myself. I need him just a little closer.