That One Time Katniss Was Not So Innocent

Gale Hawthorne is tall, dark, and handsome.

Or so it read from inside the door of one of the school's restroom stalls. Katniss had always tried to avoid reading it, actually avoiding that stall in particular, every time she had to answer the call of nature while at school. However, her efforts have become moot recently, because Gale Hawthorne and things that the girls in this school think about (and want to do to) him have been immortalized in every single stall. Some were inked loopily with hearts, while some were scratched and engraved into the wood (Katniss found herself commending whoever did that just for the effort). She told her hunting partner about it once, and the boy merely shrugged, not giving a care at all.

Well, he's barely a boy now, apparently.

The vandalism in this particular stall had become more of a conversation, Katniss noted as she fixed her pants. Because after some girl had proclaimed her best friend to be all those 3 adjectives, somebody else had added these:

He's mine, back off.

That boy could kiss. I can't even. Trust me.

Then these:

I wish I could climb those long legs and ride on his sexy hips.

Bet you his legs aren't the only things that he has that are long.

Slag heap me, Hawthorne.

The apparent war for Gale Hawthorne's heart (or body) went on for five more lines, and Katniss found herself becoming more and more warm in the face with each one. She despised herself for even reading them, because how is she supposed to spend an afternoon with him now without wanting to laugh in his face?

With a smirk, she pushed the stall door open, her bag hanging from her shoulder as she washed her hands in the sink. No one else was in the restroom with her. Almost everyone else in her grade was out by now, as she would be if she didn't have to wait for Prim. Her little sister was picked among several other people in her class to participate in this new Biology club they were having. Prim couldn't even hide her glee when she asked for her permission this afternoon, and Katniss promised she'd wait for her so they could still walk home together.

Gale Hawthorne should drop off that seam slut and be mine.

She stopped in the middle of rinsing her hands. Another ink vandalism, small but readable, on the frame of the lone restroom mirror just to the left of the sink she was using. A scoff exited her mouth which had then turned into a hard line. Not that she was being assuming, but she was pretty sure she was the only Seam girl that hung around with Gale long enough to garner this… accusation. Of course, they always walked to and from school with Prim – but who in their right minds would call Prim a seam slut?

She shook her head. There is nothing between Gale and her. If only these insipid girls would realize that the bond between her and that boy…man… whatever has been wrought by the need to survive, they wouldn't call her that. They hunted and fed their families together, in the best way that they could. If it weren't for Gale Hawthorne, her family could've possibly not survived those awful winters when there were no plants to forage and no way to fish from the lake that was frozen solid. Either that or she would have become hungry and desperate enough to fall in line with the other women outside Peacekeeper Cray's house. She cannot decide which fate would have been worse.

Katniss sighed. Gale was her closest friend – perhaps her only friend (there was Madge, but does sitting together without conversation also equals friendship?). The only reason she was even reading those things was because the familiarity of Gale's name leaps at her from the doors (sinks, mirror frames, and whatever surface those girls had vandalized).

She looked at herself in the mirror, checking her face for signs of the earlier discomfort, and was about to leave when there was another name that caught her attention.

Peeta Mellark makes wrestling tights look FUCKING hot.

Katniss's eyes widened, her fist balling on the worn leather strap of her bag. Peeta Mellark, the baker's youngest - blonde, widely popular, and the same one who had given her the bread that practically saved her and Prim's and their mother's life, at the expense of a ghastly bruise on his face. Her boy with the bread.

"What?" she said loudly, her voice bouncing off the grayish tiled floor. She didn't even need the mirror to tell her that her face had turned red at this point.

Stupid vandalisms. Stupid girls.

She took off quickly, barging out of the door so hard she barely noticed the person waiting outside.

"Catnip,what's wrong?"

Katniss swallowed, feeling herself flush even more. "What are you doing here Gale?" Her voice, she realized, had taken on a higher pitch than usual, and she cleared her throat.

There was curiosity on Gale's face now, his thick eyebrows worming a crease in his forehead. "You were taking so long inside, I almost broke in. Were you with someone or something?" He threw his hands up in front of her, as if to calm her down when the expression on her face became livid. "Calm down Everdeen, I'm just asking. You never take too long in those things. I was worried you slipped and drowned in the toilet or something."

"Since when did you make jokes, Gale?" Katniss said, willing her lips into a frown, still feeling mortified. She couldn't help it though, and a smirk made its way through. There was a snort in reply, and she rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's get Prim."

They walked side by side, arms and hands grazing each other with each step. On most days, the idea of people seeing them and branding her a slut would make her create a little more space between them. Today, however, another thought was clouding her mind. She tried not to think of that last vandalism she had read, but of course, that was counter-productive. It only made her think of him.

"Are you going to the wrestling match?"

"What?" she sputtered as her eyes widened, and her voice once again sounded squeaky. Was she thinking out loud? Prim once caught her at it once, when she was thinking of throwing Buttercup beyond the fence and into the forest. Prim cried until she promised she was only joking.

Gale frowned. He knew her too well to not notice that something was wrong. However, he also knows her well enough to know that the look on her face now says that he'll regret it if he forces it out of her. "The wrestling match tomorrow. Our teacher said it's required attendance for all. Are you going?"

Katniss let out a sharp breath, making it sound annoyed more than anything. "I'd really rather not. But if it's required…"

"Pssshhh, we've skipped those things before," Gale waved a hand as he sat beneath the tree that is usually their meeting place with Prim. Katniss remained standing, leaning her back to the trunk, and Gale could swear she was hiding her face from him. "Want to go hunting instead then?"

She cleared her throat once more. "We can't, okay? Hunting is illegal as it is. If we get caught at it when were supposed to be here for some required… wrestling… That'd be worse."

Katniss licked her lips, suddenly realizing how dry they were. She could feel the rapid beating in her chest and she closed her eyes, taking deliberate slow and deep breaths. It was a calming technique she's improvised for herself, something she does when she feels winded from hunting and worrying over feeding her family. It always worked. Almost always, anyway.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a blonde head on top of a sturdy body in a red, form-fitting, wrestling uniform. Instantly her heart rate tripled.

"That's the Mellark in your year," Gale said, his voice almost inaudible from the painful drumming in her chest. "He's playing against his own brother, the one in my year, for the championship."

Katniss had to swallow hard. Peeta was a little distance away, just visible from behind the building. He was talking to someone – a coach, possibly – his muscles large and sweaty, and she assumed that he had been practicing. His shoulders were broad, and with his back to them she could see the thick muscles as he stretched out. He followed his coach as they took a few steps to the side and Katniss was given a view of his profile: his chest that rose and fell rhythmically, his flat stomach, and the line of his trunk smoothly curving into his more than noticeable round backside.

Her eyes were still fixated on the unassuming boy, wondering how she could've missed all these apparent changes in him when she made her squirrel deliveries to his father, when all of a sudden Gale was standing beside her.

"I bet the Mellarks are so good at wrestling because their mother forces them into it at home."

She couldn't quite explain herself to Gale when she apologized to him later that night, but as soon as those words left his mouth she had pushed him to the tree, seething.

"Take that back, Gale."

"What?"

"What you said, dammit. Take it back." Katniss glared, her voice kept to an angry hiss.

She knows for a fact that the Mellark matriarch is an abusive witch. The whole district knows. Gale knows. Therefore making a joke out of it was low even for her, a lowly Seam girl. Peeta Mellark had attended classes with bruises on his face far too often for his excuse of a baking accident to be even considered valid. Her chest tightens as the memory enters her mind again – that of the bread and his painfully beaten face.

"I take it back, okay? I was joking," Gale said, a placating hand on her shoulder. "What's up with you today, Katniss?"

Katniss shook her head, more to clear her mind than as a response. She bit her lip and counted to ten. Deep breaths, in and out. She shouldn't care so much for him, she told herself. Or his mother. Or the stupid wrestling match and that stupid thing written in the walls of that stinky excuse of a restroom. She straightened herself, adjusting the bag strap on her shoulder gently, knowing the leather was old enough to the point of fragile.

"Sorry, okay? I'm just… edgy. You know I hate assemblies Gale," she shrugged, keeping her eyes on her shoes. Where the hell was Prim? It feels like she's waited for ages already.

"Fine," Gale said, his voice low as he shook off the dirt on his shirt where Katniss made him hit the tree. "We'll go hunting as soon as we could slip out of that wrestling thing, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded. With a deep breath she raised her eyes to the place where Peeta was previously standing. He was no longer there though, and she couldn't help but feel a little disappointment. She has never been able to stare at Peeta Mellark before. She's never watched him wrestle before too. She bit her lip as a very un-Katniss urge to smile made itself felt on her lips, not realizing that Gale had been looking at her, his own face a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

"I swear to the Reaping, you are so weird today."

"I wonder what's taking Prim so long," she muttered, dismissing Gale and distracting herself from her earlier train of thought. The sky had already taken a dusky orange color, with only a few wispy clouds overhead. Another clear night sky, she thought. That also makes for a good hunting weather tomorrow at dawn…

"Katniss! Gale!"

Two blonde pigtails flew as the girl ran to them, her blue eyes bright. Prim hugged Katniss, the top of her head reaching the older Everdeen's shoulders. "Sorry it took so long, we had to elect leaders for the club, and guess what? I'm secretary!"

Katniss chuckled, taking her sister's hand as Gale congratulated her. "Well come on secretary duck, let's go home."

Prim was still chattering excitedly as they rounded the building for the younger classes to make way for the road, with Gale walking a little in front of the two. Katniss was looking at her sister's face, laughing more at her near-hysteria than the stories she was telling. Biology class was obviously Prim's thing. If there ever were a student in their school who could be a sure Healer, that was Prim.

"Hey," Gale greeted, and Katniss almost bumped into him when he stopped.

Katniss peered from Gale's back, still holding Prim's hand. In front of them was again, Peeta Mellark, this time alone. He was still in uniform. His hair was plastered on his sweaty forehead, framing the blue of his eyes which were, for a few seconds, trained on Katniss's grey ones. She dropped Prim's hand, her mouth suddenly dry. What was he doing there? Why are they stopping?

She realized she should probably say something – a good luck for tomorrow's game, a simple 'hi', a 'thank you'. But she had no words at the moment. Not when her eyes were making rounds of the planes of his torso, the sparse, light-colored hair on his bare arms, and the just visible indentation where his hips met his legs...

She swallowed, averting her gaze to the distance. The damn uniform was stupid, she thought. Why do you need clothes that tight when you're wrestling? Why don't they just wear what the kids playing those ball games are wearing? She frowned, getting frustrated as she felt her cheeks turn red again. This has to be the most number of times she has blushed in a day, ever.

"Hey, uh, Gale," he greeted back, breaking the silence. His cheeks were also flushing. "Uh, Katniss, Primrose. We're just practicing for tomorrow's match… Uh, will you guys be watching?" he asked, the last part almost hesitant.

Gale shrugged. "It's required. Not much choice."

"Good luck Peeta," Prim smiled, piping in from Katniss's side.

"Thank you Primrose," Peeta smiled back, his eyes flitting again to Katniss's. "I'll go back in now, see you guys tomorrow." He made a little wave and walked away, slowly at first and then breaking into a half-run as he disappeared into the next building, which Katniss realized was their version of a gym.

Katniss took Prim's hand once more, walking fast and pulling her along. Gale was beside them easily, his long stride making it easy for him to catch up. He didn't ask now, probably because of Prim, but Katniss knows she'll have to answer – probably lie – to him when they hunt tomorrow. The impending questions made her stomach squirm. Or was it something else? She didn't really want to think about it now though.

But whoever made that vandalism in the restroom was, Katniss thought, she definitely had a point.

Notes:

I've only just realized now that the loo is called a restroom in most of the Western World. We call it a comfort room (CR) here where I live, so if I've typed in one instead of the other, sorry. I hope I don't confuse anyone.

Also, Prompts in Panem is this wonderful Everlark fanfic/fanart fest held on tumblr a few weeks ago. I was not able to join in then, but most of the stuff I've written has been inspired by their prompts. This one is for Day 3: The Wrestling Championship. Do visit the tumblr site! It's heaven for Everlark fans, I promise! And they're about to hold another round in the coming days, yay!

Thank you for reading!