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2. warm warm warm (2.8k)

You and Ellie sat side by side on the massive leather couch, stiff as boards. Ellie’s knee was pressed up against yours, entirely unaffectionate. It was closer to the feeling of a table corner digging into your leg. Joel sat across from you, looking incredulous. A window behind him showed a flurry of infrastructure and factories as District One passed by.

“Y’all can’t be serious.” He said. Joel sat you both down first thing after breakfast to go over the plan, damn near forcing you to sit next to each other. The hostility had eased up slightly. You no longer felt the need to rip out Ellie’s ligaments. Now, you just felt plain uncomfortable. In fairness, Joel’s only instruction was ‘Alright, be in love.’ That didn’t give you much to work with. For once, you felt that you and Ellie had some sort of alliance– a team. Team Unwilling And Hating This But Doing It By Means Of Survival. The name’s a work in progress. “C’mon, you two, convince me.” Might as well take initiative, you thought. Sighing, your hand crept over to hers robotically, mouth crinkled in distaste.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Please, show some restraint.” She said dryly, before grabbing your hand with fervor, holding it tightly. Your breath hitched.

You didn’t expect her to be so warm. Her palm is rougher than you could’ve ever imagined. It dwarfed yours. Slowly, your fingers laced together, albeit quite robotically. Almost like it was contagious, you held it up and out from your bodies.

Beside Joel was Sam, who was let in on the plan. He lounged with his legs crossed, his brow rose. “You’re fucked.”

“I’m sorry! I’ve never had a girlfriend or done any of this before.” You admitted. Ellie looked at you suddenly, frowning ever so slightly.

“You’re a pretty girl, I would’ve thought you had, uh, girls all over you.” Asked Joel awkwardly. You’ve always known you liked girls, but sexuality and fussing over who to love was a rich people problem.

You shook your head. “Sure, boys– uhm, some boys have been interested, but I just let them down easy. No girls like that really talk to me.”

Sam chuckled softly. “‘Cuz you don’t look like it, silly. All the girls who like girls in Seven look like guys. Short hair, boy clothes.” He not-so-slyly eyed Ellie, who pursed her lips with a sardonic smile.

“That’s what you think.” You and Ellie said, simultaneously. Shocked, a moment passed with the two of you holding eyes. The corner of her lip rose. You didn’t push down your smile.

“Much better, guys.” Said Sam, smirking.

“Mhm, keep it up.” Added Joel.

At that, the two of you snapped your heads forward, shaking off the other’s hand, Joel groaned.

“No, y’all– you can’t be actin’ that way this week.” As if you were two toddlers in timeout, he sandwiched your palms back together. Ellie sighed and reclined over the backrest. Her neck stretched and bathed in the shadow cut by her jaw. You noticed the muscles decorating Ellie’s shoulders and arms, on full display in a black wife-beater. Her apparent muscles were always hidden in sleeves. In the depths of your mind, you wished she’d show them off more. You bit your lip unknowingly.

Ellie must have some sort of sixth sense fit for the devil, and she lolled her head to face you the second the plush of your bottom lip snagged on your canine tooth. Ellie caught the movement and maybe there was nothing else worth looking at, because she lingered there.

It felt like staring into the sun, watching her watch you– your lips. You blinked it out and promised yourself to keep your eyes on Joel. You’d been drowning out his ongoing lecture about your public behavior. When he mentioned “keeping up appearances”, you were knocked out of your stupor.

“Wait, what do you mean? I thought I was just going to mention her during interviews and she’d come up to hug me, or something.” You asked.

“What she said. What is the plan, Joel?” Ellie said, urgently.

He hesitated. “Alright, look. This ain’t gonna be an interview exclusive. The best stories from tributes give the Capitol content, moments, not just words.”

It clicked. “You’re not saying we’re supposed to be acting this way… all the time, are you?” Your interlinked hands had stopped flustering you, too nervous to care. Ellie didn’t let go, you noticed. She hadn’t protested against it either.

“Dammit. Yeah, he is. It’ll be huge, they’ll eat it up and leave nothin’.” Ellie relucted. A sense of panic filled you up. In no way were you a stellar actress. Any chances of sponsorships relied on this and this alone. How could you trust yourself to sell it, make it worth watching? How could you trust Ellie to pick up the weight?

“Sammyboy,” said Joel, tapping Sam’s knee. “We’ll talk about you in a sec. G’head to your room for now, so the girls can actually practice.”

When it was just the three of you, Joel had you two stand up. “Practice walking together.” He said, waving a hand between you two, as if to tell you to use your imagination.

You sighed. It couldn’t go on this way forever; unacknowledged and perpetually weird. You haven’t really talked about it yourselves yet. “Um, Ellie–

“Yep,” She groaned, popping the p. “It’s weird. I know. Look, kid,”

“We’re the same age–”

“Look,” Ellie insisted. This was different though, this voice on her. She wasn’t bitey, or mean. She wasn’t talking just to shut you up. Her eyes had that softness that went away so fast yesterday. “I’m sorry for… fuck’s sake. Uh. I’m not nice. I’ll be nicer. You…” She looked at the ground, muttering, almost shy. You couldn’t believe it. “You’ve got a good idea, helping the others. I want you to get it done. This’ll help.”

Your mouth parted in surprise. “Thank you, Ellie. I’m… I’m not nice to you either–”

“You are.” Her freckled cheeks pinkened. “Joel, go. We’ll practice, I swear.” Snapped Ellie, without taking her eyes off you. Joel’d been observing your exchange from the other couch, a sort of lightness flickered on his face.

“Good.” Was all he said. He groaned a little as he got up. “Stupid back.” He muttered. The door shut soundlessly behind him.

“You’re nice to me,” Ellie said, returning to you. You shook your head, about to protest, but she interrupted. “Do you– do you remember sometime five years ago, before my Games?” She tucked her jaggedly cut, dog-brown hair behind an ear. A black, metal stud piercing gleamed in the light. “I was drawing flowers outside your shop I think, because the blossoms on there are,” She paused to take a nervous breath.

“Beautiful. I love them.” You finished for her. She nodded.

“They’re pretty– and I was sort of, bleeding like a motherfucker?” Tried Ellie, head tilted with a stubborn blush.

You gasped. You remembered– there was a girl, she had long hair stuffed into a ponytail, with lots of it falling out the front. She was crying, with an oozing, bloody gash splitting her eyebrow.

You were about to open up the nursery that day, only thirteen, but she caught your attention. Sketching furiously on her notebook, staring holes into the blossoms ahead of her, swearing under her breath. You noticed her wound.

‘Hi,’ You said, thumbing the basket in your hands, lined with pink gingham, filled with supplies for the day. ‘Are you okay?’

The girl looked up from her work to glareat you. ‘Yes,’ she'd jeered before returning to her sketch-- but her hands stuttered. They flowed less naturally than a moment ago. You realized she was crying. It’s always been instinct for you to comfort. Babies were your calling for a reason– helping those who couldn’t help themselves. You don’t remember everything, but all of a sudden, you were kneeling in front of her, caressing her marred cheek and cleaning up her wound. You’d invited her inside so you could stitch her up in a cleaner environment. She’d sat on the countertop, towering over you slightly, so you had to go on tiptoes to place the sutures. She never gave her name, you never asked for it. All you remember is–

‘Someone hurt you,’ You whispered. Not asking. Knowing. The girl had only sniffled.

‘Yes.’ She’d whispered back.

A beat. You made sure to stitch her as gentle as possible. Your lips had curled into a small, sorry smile. ‘You love that word, huh?”

She smiled back and rolled her eyes. The hint of a personality, of a bite, behind all that blood.

Another thing: You’d stitched and bandaged her, and said, without thinking– ‘If you were one of the little kids, I’d kiss your ‘boo-boo’,’ You joked, but you remembered how the girl got red fast. She had shrugged, a little forced.

‘I-I don’t mind,’ She whispered, and so you did. Just a quick peck on her brow that had you heating up. You remember hoping she’d show up again, or maybe, she liked girls the way you did. You remember the tiniest little hope that, maybe, she could like you.

“That was you?” You asked, breathlessly. Ellie nodded.

“Surprise.” She muttered. You opened your mouth for a barrage of questions and exasperations– why didn’t you come back? I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you– did the Capitol make you cut your hair?-- but Ellie lifted a hand, silently asking you not to talk about it. “Point is, you’re good.” It escaped her so quietly, as if it could fly under the radar of her usual attitude. “You’re good, kid.” The speckled green of her eyes took light captive, they went between boring into yours, and back down at fhe floor. “You’re kind. So… we’re doing this. Let’s take it seriously.” She outstretched her hand, and waited for you to take it.

You didn’t hesitate, and your hand found her warmth again. Your eyes trailed over her eyebrow, the scar. Another time, you told yourself, ask another time. Ellie cleared her throat. “Alright, so, when we walk around– when you’re not in cuffs, I mean– I was thinking I could, um…” She didn’t finish, and instead laid her arm to rest over your shoulders. She looked to you expectantly.

You nodded– fuck, a little too eagerly– “Y-yeah, sure.” Slowly, you wrapped a hand around her waist. “Is that okay?” Ellie nodded the same way, fast, eager, it made you laugh– making her laugh. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, what’ll Seven think.” Said Ellie, lightheartedly.

You cleared your throat. God, Ellie was so hot– heated, rather. She was like a radiator. It was strange, her being so genuine all of a sudden. In this conversation, you found yourself enjoying the Bandit Williams’ presence. An impish thought tickled the corner of your mind. “Kissing.” You blurted. Shocked, Ellie’s grip on you loosened, before her resolve returned and any prior surprise was wiped clean off. She gripped your arm firmly.

“Good thinking,” She said, a little loudly. Her chest puffed up, as if she needed armor. “They’d love it, they love some– um– raunchiness.”

Oh. You couldn't help it, and began observing her lips. They decorated her face like fallen rose petals, and they’re your favorite pink. You loved to deny it, but Ellie Williams was sexy. Both hot and heated. Even back home, with her being a genuine dipshit, it infuriated you how pleasant it was to look at her. Of course, the pleasantry vanished the second she would open her mouth. But that was back then, not including the strange, new and improved mentor version of Ellie. She wet her lips, giving you a glimpse of her peachy tongue. Raunchiness, she said. You grew flustered at the thought of being raunchy with Ellie. For cameras, you reminded yourself, for the Sponsors.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” You muttered.

“I gathered.” Said Ellie. “I think it’s kinda stupid.” You brows furrowed. “I mean, you could’ve asked anyone and they’d be– well, Joel said it first.” Ellie looked between you two, at the inches of distance on the cold tile. She stepped forward, leaving a hair’s worth between your slippers. “Any girl you’d ask would be all over you.” She shrugged then, as if she hadn’t complimented you on a massive degree– actually being nice to you for the second time in a row. More than nice. Could she be enjoying you too?

“Any girl?” You asked, daring to bite your lip to test if Ellie would watch it again. She did. Your heartbeat quickened. “H-how would we kiss? In front of them, I mean.”

“Rare short ones, pretending to be in secret. I’ll ask Joel how PG they have to be–” You swallowed, did she have something more in mind? “But there will have to be a big moment, a big kiss. Something for the replays.” She said, switching focus between your lips and your eyes. “We can peck, just to practice.”

Ellie was being so cavalier about this. Meanwhile these suggestions, thrown around like it was no big thing, were blowing your mind. “What are good mentors for?” You tried to joke, but it trembled, and didn’t land. All Ellie did was nod. “Let’s get the big kiss out of the way.” You said, without thinking. “To break the ice. I-if you don’t mind.”

You realize Ellie had gotten nose to nose with you, inching forward as every moment passed. Just this morning, you’d taunted each other with catty pet names and stood just like this.

“Fine by me.” Said Ellie, maintaining an unbothered tone.

“Yeah.” You whispered. You could feel your breath bouncing off Ellie’s mouth.

“Yeah.” She repeated. Ellie wrapped an arm around your waist. “Is this okay?” You nodded, too quickly. She cupped your cheek, the tips of her finger dug into your hair. “Is this okay?” She said, lower.

“Yes–” She took your lips– took them like they needed to be taken– into a deep kiss. Her mouth slid against yours as she nipped your bottom lip. You caught on, and copied her movements onto her top lip. You pulled away just slightly to speak. “Is that good–”

“Mhm.” And she pulled you in again, drinking your lips. Your hands buried up in her hair as hers clutched your waist. Now you understood all those boys at school, foaming at the mouth for a kiss and a squeeze and hollering all about it. Something wild and rabid thumped in your chest, then lower, then lower. The train melted away. The Games melted away. The Bandit Williams crap did, too. Who was Ellie besides that battered, sweet girl you patched up and the lips that turned off your mind?

Lips. Ellie’s hands. Warm, warm, warm.

The cameras.

Your eyes flew open and you pushed her away. She was panting, eyes dark as tar. For a second, she looked pissed. Huffing and red like someone robbed her. Your hands itched to practice your public personas some more.

But you couldn’t divert your attention from one of the many active and blinking cameras. “I don’t want them to see me like that. Or you.” You whispered.

The color returned to her face after some easy breaths. “For sure.” Ellie’s voice was so steady, so unaffected. You wished you could say the same about yours. She wasn’t looking at you though, and you didn’t like that.

Salo waltzed down the hall. Ellie made no move to create space between you. “You two!” Salo cooed. “Mister Miller let me in on your little secret! I should’ve known there was something brewing. Oh Bandit,” You cringed. He clutched Ellie’s arm, who flicked off is pest-like paws. He continued shamelessly. “Don’t go yelling at your lover in such a way anymore, all angry, be sweet to her! Sweet as confectionery. She needs all the support she can!” His hand slithered to cup your chin while Ellie eyed him with a sneer forming. “And you, gorgeous, well the odds are certainly favoring you so far! I’ll see that your coupling centerfolds the chicest publications.” Salo punctuated with a light tap-slap to your cheek, pinching it slightly. “My dearest friend, Ekko, will greet you at the train station to dress you in a jiff for the parade.”

“Ekko hates you, Salo.” Grumbled Ellie.

Salo pretended not to hear her. “I’ve already informed the studly Sam. Better dress in some day clothes, look presentable. Ciao!” With that, he sauntered off into the hall, a pair of neon blue boots clacking obnoxiously.

Any and all tension that had swollen and overflowed in the room had gone stale and dry. Ellie cleared her throat, with an unreadable face.

“Dress up, like he said. Ekko's cool. He's Capitol but nothing like Salo.” Without another word, she walked off too. “Need a fucking smoke.” She muttered.

Later, as you dressed yourself, you couldn’t help but lick your lips, and wonder if Ellie is doing the same between drags.

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