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Alma awoke with a start. Everything in her living quarters appeared to be as it always was, yet something did not feel right. Sitting up in bed, she immediately shivered.
That’s it! She thought, Why on earth is it so cold?
Even for an underground stone bunker, the temperatures were freezing. Upon turning on the light, Alma could see her breath hanging in the air. Sighing, she picked up her communicuff off the bedside table and tapped out a message to the control rooms.
Why is it so cold? Is something the matter? Even for 13 this is freezing. Let me know a.s.a.p. -President Coin.
Within seconds she received a reply.
Heating systems are down, Ma’am. Nothing we can do. We’ll all just have to sit tight until the issue resolves itself.
Damn . Pulling the covers back, Alma slid out of bed, put on her thick overcoat, shoes and gloves and stepped out into the corridor. As she made her way up the levels of District 13, many people were hurrying around. The ice-cold conditions appeared to have caused a state of panic among the civilians. Coin made her way to the control room that housed the announcement system, quickly informed the citizens of the issue and ordered them back to their compartments. After that, there was nothing to do but go back to her own rooms…or was there?
Before she had fully thought out her decision, she found herself standing in Heavensbee’s quarters.
“Can I help you, Madam President?” He asked, blinking sleepily at her.
“Glad to see you can still sleep fine, even if no-one else can. If you haven’t noticed, the heating has broken and temperatures in 13 have plummeted lower than the freezers.”
He stood there, staring. Alma shivered. Suddenly, her patience snapped.
“Oh for goodness sake, move! It’s too cold for this.”
Before he could respond, Alma had made her way into his bedroom, and was sitting on the edge of his bed.
Plutarch stared, shocked as she slid her legs under the covers. “What are you doing, Ma’am?”
“Avoiding freezing to death. I suggest you do the same.” Coin said dryly.
Heavensbee’s eyes grew wider. “But…but you’re in my bed?”
“Yes, I am. Well done. Now stop being ridiculous and get in. This kind of situation calls for drastic measures!” Coin shrugged off her winter coat and dropped it onto the floor.
Plutarch immediately picked it up and hung it on a spare hanger in his wardrobe, then tentatively laid beside Alma in the bed. “Now what?”
To his immense surprise ( and, a little, long suppressed part of him said, delight) he suddenly found Coin’s shoulder pressed against his chest. Automatically, he wrapped an arm around her waist. She still looked very much like a President, Plutarch could see it in the way her chin tilted ever so slightly upwards, in her immaculate uniform grey pyjamas and in the pen still pushed behind her ear, but nevertheless she seemed much…softer? than usual. More…real? Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and he suddenly noticed how long her eyelashes were.
And how beautiful her eyes were when they opened again, pale and stormy grey. He had always loved her eyes. They were unique. Striking. Like her. It was the same cool, calculating eyes looking at him now that he had dreamt about for so many years. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss her…
“Is there something wrong with my face, Heavensbee?” Alma said suddenly, looking over her shoulder to face him.
Flustered, he drew back a little. “No, no! Your face is nice. Wait what! No- that’s not how that was meant to come out. I just meant that your face is…fine?” He closed his eyes for a moment out of embarrassment. “I’ve made this weird now, haven’t I? Sorry.”
Alma laughed softly. It was one of the only times he’d ever heard her laugh, and it was a nice sound. She deserves all the happiness in the world. He thought to himself, relaxing a little at the prospect that he may not have ruined their entire relationship (could he call it that?)
“It’s fine. Like my face, evidently.” She rolled over to look at him properly.
Heavensbee tried desperately to change the subject.
“Why do you smell like peppermint, Ma’am?” He blurted out, noticing its sweetish smell hanging in what little air remained between them.
“Those white things you got me from the Capitol. Turns out they work excellently as a stimulant. I eat them sometimes when I’m working overnight. Keeps me awake, and doesn’t use up the store of coffee.”
So she did like my peppermints! He smiled a little, breathing in the warm scent. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, warmth spreading through their bodies. Plutarch tilted his head slowly down towards Alma’s, unsure of how she would react. Coin, instead of drawing away like he had expected, met his lips softly with her own.
“Goodnight, Heavensbee,” she whispered, breaking the kiss off after a moment.
“Goodnight, Ma’am.” He replied, gently brushing a tendril of silver hair off her cheek.