Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

5 ways Issac and Haymitch had sex for the first time (+1 time they fell in love)

During the Tour

Issac does his best to avoid thinking about what the Victors from One and Elisa hinted would be waiting for him at the end of the Tour. He really does. But he just can’t fully shake it. He finally sneaks into Haymitch’s bed, somewhere between eight and seven. It’s not 100% unheard of for Issac to crawl into bed with the older Victor, but it feels different somehow.

For one, Issac is a tad more drunk than normal. For another, Haymitch is a tad more sober.

When Haymitch wakes up to Issac standing on his side of the bed, he just grunts and lifts the covers. “Well, climb in then.”

Issac rocks back on his heels for a second, trying to puzzle through how to do this without getting punched. Finally, he just crawls into bed and doesn’t stop until he’s straddling Haymitch, arms carefully at his sides and weight on his knees that were planted on either side of Haymitch’s hips. If Haymitch wanted, it would be easy to move Issac. But the man did not. He merely looked at Issac with wary, grey eyes that were looking more awake by the second.

Issac licked his lips and smiled. He tried to come up with something to say and fell short.

“What are you doing, Issac?” Haymitch's use of his name was not the best sign. Haymitch never used his name, not even before the games. Honestly, it was a bit surprising that Haymitch remembered his name. 

“I’m trying to seduce you,” Issac smirked. “I admit, I was expecting the food and dancing around shirtless would have worked before now, but, eh.” He shrugged off his shirt and was gratified to see that Haymitch not only tracked the movement but took a while to trail his eyes back to Issac’s face.

“Why?” Haymitch’s voice is too rough for the question to be as blunt as it would be otherwise.

Issac considers the truth and discards it. He has to believe that if given the option, freely, this is what he would do. “Because it’s always going to be you and me, on this damn train, forever.”

Haymitch looks at Issac as if Issac just said something much more profound and interesting than he feels he has. But eh, if it gets his first time with someone who’s kind and familiar and makes sure he’s okay in the morning, Issac figures he won’t look at why too closely.

When Haymitch Knows

Issac keeps telling himself that nothing has changed. His circumstances are the same as when he punched a hole in that last boy’s throat. He may have just gotten talked about the storm, but he has been standing in the rain for hours already. It does not help.

He goes to Haymitch.

Issac is still tangled up over whether Haymitch is smart, drunk, stupid, or somehow all three. It does not matter right then. What matters is that, while Haymitch can avoid talking with the best of them, he has yet to outright lie to Issac and that has to count for something.

“He... he said,” Issac is pacing back and forth in front of the mostly sober Haymitch. He keeps running a hand through his hair and making aborting attempts to explain anything. How can he? This is not part of what anyone has told him about before. He expected to have to kill people not... not that. Not this. “How did I not see this?! It’s so obvious when you look at it but...”

“That what Snow wanted you for? To talk about the whoring?” Haymitch sounds off. Though it’s hard to tell if it's Haymitch’s voice or Issac’s hearing.

Issac stops pacing, staring at Haymitch, chest heavy with too many emotions swirling in his chest. “You knew?” His voice is small.

Haymitch nods. “It won’t start up till the next Games, so I-”

“Tonight.” Issac corrects.

Haymitch looks at Issac. “Excuse me?”

“My first appointment. It's tonight. I’m supposed to leave the banquet with Ms. Gloria Havensbee and then... then entertain her.” Issac grabs the neat, purple card in its grey envelope from his back pocket and hands it over.

Haymitch scans it, his face set. “Let’s take a walk.”

He moves to get up and Issac pushes him back down. He feels like he’s back in the arena. Everything overlaid with a haze of adrenalin and purpose to his movements while inside he feels like he’s shaking apart. Drowning in the dirt and blood of other people. But it’s not blood. Instead, it’s the slightly copper tang of salt on Haymitch’s lips and then throat when he doesn’t respond. It’s a growl of frustration instead of pain when Haymitch hauls Issac back by his hair. It’s the gentle sigh of giving and letting go into life instead of the final moments of it when Haymitch directs the next kiss. And the next.

They trade control back and forth and somewhere between the couch and being naked on the couch, it becomes something more than a desperate, frantic ‘fuck you’ to the Capitol and all its rules and expectations. It becomes sweet and honest. If Haymitch kisses Issac in places where they both know should have scars and don’t, or if Issac mewls and sighs against the other man while feeling safe and held for the first time since the arena, it won’t change what happens tomorrow, or the next night, or every night in the Capitol for the next thirteen years. But it does change this moment. It does change what they are.

When Haymitch Doesn’t Know

Issac gets on the train and sits in the first chair he comes upon. He tucks his shaking hands into the folds of his velvet and fur jacket. He lets his legs spread but keeps everything else tight, straight, and centered. He feels frozen inside like his breath should steam in the heated train compartment as, with barely a lurch, they are underway.

He does not have a single mark on his body. Remake was certain to scrub him clean before releasing him back into Haymitch’s custody. His, because the crew and the stylist, and Julius all stay in the Capitol and get to pretend that nothing is wrong or broken in the world.

Four days in the Capitol. Issac wonders if time in the Capitol will always feel like time in the Arena. Meaningless to keep track of because you are staying until all the things are done and you have been fucked in new and interesting ways. Somehow, you will find yourself walking blindly into an objective with no clear idea how and getting the job done anyways.

Issac hates feeling this way. This numbing, burning pit of ice where his heart should be. So, he shrugs off his coat and boots. Somewhere along the way he also manages to lose his shirt and unbutton the top of his pants before he finds Haymitch alone in the bar car. He steals the liquor in his hand.

Haymitch makes some cheap shots about how nice it is to see him again after four days, in his natural state of dress.

Issac is bigger than Haymitch now. He probably already has an inch on him and while Haymitch is bulkier, Issac has spent six months obsessively lifting weights and has the barest amount of fat on him.

This does not mean Haymitch could not, would not win if he wanted to. Issac is shaking apart already inside and if Haymitch says ‘no’ or pushes him away or moves back even a little, he’ll shatter and may never be put back together again. But Haymitch does none of those things.

Haymitch takes everything Issac is pouring into him and soothes it with lips and tongue. He drags him to their bed and leaves stubble burns where others had left lipstick. He bites bruises into Issac’s skin when Issac begs him to. Ask for it. Because here, he can ask. Issac can be selfish because neither one of them has to do anything. This is not a life-or-death decision. This is just life. Cleansing.

Issac won’t tell Haymitch about what happened. He’ll let him assume that Issac just flirts and lets people touch him but then comes back to Haymitch. It won’t be till Finnick, till Johanna, till Issac comes home too worn out and broken to save anyone else, but especially himself, that Haymitch will allow himself to connect all the dots. That he’ll ask Issac when and what and why.

Before the second Reaping

Issac does not know what to do with himself. No matter whose name comes out of the bowl, Twelve will not get to have another Victor yet. All he can do is try to get whatever kids to give everyone else a good showing. Keep Twelve fresh in everyone’s minds so next year, or the year after maybe, Twelve will get another Victor.

But some part of Issac rebels against that. Curls up and cries and bleeds fear at the thought of people thinking of Twelve. Because as long as people are thinking about Twelve, Issac will be in the circuit. He will be more than just a decent-looking Victor from the outlying districts. He will be a whore and a shiny toy that everyone wants to dress up and play with until he breaks. Especially since no one will get to do that with Enbari.

He tries to chase the thought away will exercise and then cooking and even cleaning. But none of it works. Finally, he breaks and goes out the door and beats on Haymitch’s door until the older Victor pulls it open will a snarl.

Haymitch has a half-filled bottle of white liquor, the kind you find in Twelve’s black market, in one hand and a knife in the other.

Issac figures he will be getting impaled either way and kisses him.

Haymitch stumbles back and somewhere between the door and the filthy couch, he drops the bottle but not the knife.

Issac ignores it. He doubts Haymitch would be the type to be into bloodplay and his hands are steady enough, given the circumstances. He corners the other Victor and drops between his knees and pulls at his pants until he gets to his prize.

Haymitch is drunk enough to make getting him hard more work. But Issac has been a whore for his Tour and Wintermas and the 62nd Games and Enbari’s Tour and another Wintermas. He can work around whiskey dick. He can kneel there and let Haymitch grab his hair and feel the blade against his scalp and ear and not flinch, barely breaking the rhythm.

When Haymitch finishes, it is no surprise that he passes out. Issac covers him back up and fetches what’s left in the liquor bottle and downs it. Coughing and spluttering. He wonders about the ethics of what he just did. Whether he took advantage of Haymitch in his intoxicated state. Issac resolves to let the other Victor fuck him sober. Surely that would decide things, after all.

In District Thirteen

Issac somehow knows that people have thought Haymitch was fucking him for years. That it was assumed that two men, one clearly bisexual, left alone all the time with only each other would at least have an arrangement. Even though he cannot remember his mother’s name or how to breathe sometimes, he remembers that.

Issac crawls into bed with Haymitch and begs for something real. Something that will make everything else make sense and not fly apart at the seams. Something that will make him present and feel wanted. Feel like his not strapped down and watching his friends get torn apart on screen over and over again.

Haymitch lets Issac ride him and if the older Victor feels used, at least this time it’s for someone he loves and trusts and wants. They don’t talk about it after. Not until Coin is dead. Not until Peeta and Katniss are married. Not until Issac returns to Twelve with a pack of hunting dogs at his heels and two years of Ambassador of Restitutions. It was a made-up office to keep some of them in the Capitol, to keep some of them in the loop in case something awful turned up. 

Issac walks into Haymitch’s arms and they both just breathe. When they die, one after the other, years and years into the future, Issac will go first. He’ll go loved and lost like he exited the arena. Haymitch will follow because he can’t take being alone again.

(+1) After Years of Companionship

Issac and Haymitch have shared a house for years now. Haymitch’s place has been cleaned out, courtesy of Effie being nosy and Issac having ideas. But they only bother pretending anyone sleeps there when they have visitors.

There are never visitors in Twelve. People who want to fuck Issac outside the Capitol do it in Four or One or, for one notable client, Two. Not a dismal place like Twelve.

They share a bed and if Issac wakes too early and Haymitch goes to sleep too late, they have managed to make peace with each other. Issac knows that sometimes he will have to share space with Haymitch’s ghosts and nightmares. Haymitch has accepted that Issac’s weird cats are never leaving. But they try to keep those things outside the bedroom.

It’s not a special day. Issac has not just come home from the Capitol or was about to go back. No one was thinking about the Tour or the Games.

It’s a chilly spring evening and the covers are warm because Haymitch is laying under them reading while Issac finishes his nightly ritual. Issac walks into the bedroom and thinks ‘huh’. It’s easy to crawl under the blankets and carefully steal the book. To tuck the bookmark in and set it on the night table as Haymitch watches warily. To cup his cheek and feel the stubble scrap his palm as, gently he brings their lips into alignment.

It’s slow. There are a lot of false starts and Haymitch asking if things are okay. They might not talk about what calls Issac away to the Capitol so often, but Haymitch is not blind and he so, desperately, does not want to screw this up. So, it’s slow and simple. Sweet in a way that neither man ever is, not with themselves at any rate. Haymitch looks at Issac as if the younger man is a miracle, one granted just to him. Issac looks at Haymitch like he’s the sun, the stars, and everything else Issac has always counted on to lead him home.

In the morning, Issac will make breakfast, like he always does. They will work out together and the only difference to their routine will be a stolen kiss as they turn in for bed. They go on living. There will be days Haymitch drinks too much and some days Issac will flinch at every touch. But somehow, they managed to fall in love. Even more miraculously, they stay that way.

Chapter Text

5 Times Katniss meet the Lion + 1 time she meets Issac (Pre-Games)

1 - Redistribution (post- 63)

Katniss is buzzing in her skin. The squirrel clutched in her hand is more bone and blood than meat, courtesy of the arrow hitting it dead center. But this is Katniss’ very first successful kill, and she cannot find it in herself to be disappointed.

Not when her father is still grinning at her in pride.

They slip through the fence together in one of the many ‘safe’ areas to do so. Katniss ends up slipping a little, headbutting into her father’s legs. She looks up at him, betrayed when he does not bend to pick her up off the ground.

But her father is not even looking at her. He is standing stock still and staring at something. Or, rather, someone.

The Lion, winner of the 61st Hunger Games and District Twelve’s second Victor is standing on the road in front of them. He is a giant of a man, especially next to her father. He seems to almost glow, inhuman, with his pale skin and wearing a long white robe and pants as he stares back at them. White against the green spring grass and mud.

Katniss does not really remember his Games. She was three when he won. But she does know that she is not supposed to talk to him. Mama says he is dangerous. That he is really a Capitol citizen, not a District Twelve citizen. Like the escorts.

This is the first time Katniss thinks she’s ever seen him not wearing some ridiculous outfit. He is still in white, which is weird, but it’s just normal pants and a robe. Not his usual fur and leather and sparkling glitter.

Katniss climbs to her feet and picks up her squirrel. He is now mud splattered in addition to being torn apart by her still developing aim. 

“Taking a walk then?” Father’s voice cuts through the silence.

Katniss jerks her head up when Father moves his arm to shove her back. Her eyes meet the Lion’s gaze, which is locked on her. “Hi.”

“Hello. Is that your squirrel?” The Lion asks in a rumble.

Katniss looks up at her father and shakes her head. They are not supposed to go beyond the fence. If the Peacekeepers caught them or the Capitol found out, they would get whipped or worse. The Lion is part of the Capitol.

But Katniss is pretty sure she’s never seen the Capitol squat down to put itself on eye level with her.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I know that you probably just trapped it, right? Using a snare on the fence line?” The Lion is skinnier than he first looked. His collarbones are sharp under his shirt as he hunches his shoulders inward. Like he is trying to trick her into thinking he is smaller than he is.

“That’s right.” Father says, “Just a snare.”

The Lion looks up at her father and she thinks she sees something pass between them. But it is as fleeting as the dew in summer. The Lion looks back at her and extends a hand, “Can I see him? The squirrel.”

Katniss looks at her father again, but he just nods, so she hands her squirrel over. Even though its hers and it is also her very first one. Even if it’s mostly mud now.

The Lion handles it, blood smearing across his perfectly groomed nails, with a frown. He sniffs it.

“You can’t eat it! It's mine!” The words burst out of Katniss’ chest without a thought. But the Lion has fangs, and she does not really want to watch him eat her dinner in front of her.

Father shifts to push her further back, but Katniss shoves her way forward. She killed a squirrel today and the Lion is just a silly Capitalist. She can take him.

The Lion laughs, the noise is raspier and more broken than she thinks it should be. He cups his own throat with a grimace. Bloody fingerprints mark it when he manages to relax and opens his eyes to look at her again. He winks. “No fear of that, little ‘un. But I am working on a recipe and maybe you and your... father? Can help me.”

He hands the squirrel back to her and straightens to his feet. He addresses her father more than her when next he speaks, but Katniss still feels included. Which is rare when dealing with adults in her experience. “I’m going to need, I don’t know, twenty? Fifty? Squirrels over the next two months or so. I’ll pay for the meat. And if you know someone... not scared to maybe get caught on screen, I could do with someone willing to take the hides and bring them back. Pay for that, too.”

“We don’t need-”

“I know. But I do need.”

The two adults look at each other. 

Katniss weighs her squirrel in her hands, considering. The Lion never goes outside the fence, she knows. He goes on the train to the Capitol, and he sometimes passes through their town with some brightly colored Capitol people fluttering on his arm back to his own house. But she doubts that gives him any access to squirrel meat. 

“How much?” Katniss asks. She tightens her chin when both adults look at her. “For the squirrel?”

“Katniss...” Her father sounds scared, and her father never sounds scared.

But the Lion grins. “Well, it all depends on their condition, of course. But...” He leans down a little, lowering his voice like they are sharing a secret. “Is this your first one?”

Katniss nods.

“Ah, I see.” The Lion straightens back up and hooks his thumbs in his pockets. 

She should maybe tell him that he is smearing more mud and blood on his clothes, but the words stick in her throat. She does not know why but somehow; she knows that it would be a bad idea. 

“Well then, firsts should always get a little extra coin.” His mouth twists but then he relaxes back again. “How about...”

The coins he pulls from his pocket are shiny. Too shiny to have been passed around in Twelve. Which means that they must be from the Capitol. He counts them out, “How old are you?”

“Five,” Katniss tells him proudly.

“Five. Big age that. You’re starting school in the fall, right?” The Lion separates out five of the smaller coins and then one big one. “Seem fair to you?”

“That’s too much.” Father cuts in.

The Lion’s eyes tighten. He looks at her father with a scowl. The edges of his fangs peak out from his lips.

“How about a different trade,” Katniss tries. She is thinking of Primrose and how many blankets those six coins would buy. Maybe even new shoes for school for her, if there were any left. “I take the five little coins and your robe.”

“My... oh, this.” The Lion tugs at the fabric on his shoulders. He glances at her father, “Seems fair. Cloth for the game.”

“You sure?”

“I burn a closet full of shit every summer, sir. But for the others, we can work out a firmer price.” The Lion shrugs. “Labor for the hide tanning can be in straight coin. The game is just... from traps? So, cloth.”

Katniss is not sure that is exactly fair. Especially since there is no way that anyone is catching fifty squirrels by just snaring them. Rabbits maybe but not squirrels. But maybe the Lion just does not know about bows and arrows. 

Father nods, face grim, when Katniss double checks the deal with him.

“Okay, here.” She shoves her fist out with the squirrel dangling from it.

She does not expect him to pull off the robe and fold it neatly before handing it to her father. She really does not expect the deep, black bruises on his arm or the way his muscles strain out from too thin skin. Like he is very dehydrated even though the drought had ended months ago. But she does not draw attention to it as he gives her the coins and takes the squirrel with a fanged smile. 

“Thank you, kiddo.”

“Katniss.” She tells him, the coins clutched tight in her palm.

“Katniss, I’ll remember.” The Lion promises.

“Don’t” Father says.

The Lion shrugs. “I will. But it’ll stay in Twelve. Where ya’ll belong, right?”

Father softens, just a little. “Alright.” He holds out a hand and the two shake, “I’ll send someone up with a few squirrels, should some fall off a roof or something.”

“Sounds good, boss.” The Lion gives Katniss one last, conspiring wink before turning around and leaving. His long legs eat the distance as they watch him disappear.

Katniss counts the coins in her palm, “Can I buy Prim a new pillow, do you think?”

Father looks down at her and smiles, proud and soft. “Ya, Katniss, if that’s what you want to do. You earned that, not me.”

“Okay. That’s what I'll do then!”

2 - Restriction (post- 64)

It’s the Victory Tour and the boy who won from One, who is apparently the twin of last year’s girl Victor, is visiting. Normally, the visitors stick to the path from the train to the Justice building, to the Lion’s house, and back. That is it. Zero chance of running into them on accident.

The Lion makes sure of that. Though it helps that nowhere else in Twelve is very pretty. Not compared to his house that, even from the fence line of Victor’s Village, looks like a castle or enchanted mansion.

So, Katniss is not expecting to run into anyone from the Capitol on a hill, looking at nothing more interesting than the fence line. The issue is the hill is tall enough to block sight line to this part of the fence. The part of the fence they need to get through. 

Her father looks annoyed. The next good spot to cross is ages away and he got his leg cut up by slipping off a tree when Katniss got too scared to clamber down it. She is sorry about it. But apologies do not heal skin, just hearts, so they need to hustle home.

But the Lion, in his Capitol shiny white and not his Twelve linen white, is wrestling with another man on the hill. Instead of doing it in his house like he normally does.

Katniss and her father do not have time for this. So, she slips the fence as her father hisses at her to “get back here, little missy.”

“You’re in the way,” Katniss tries. Then she raises her voice when the men ignore her. “Hey!”

The Lion’s head whips up. His lips are bright red, and his neck is covered in bruises and red as well. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Katniss.” She knew he would forget it. But it is not like her father let her deliver any of the squirrels to him last year. But Mama did sew her new clothes from his old ones. So, she knows the deal still went through. 

The other man grunts something from under the Lion. But the bigger man just covers his face with his hand, not even looking at him. “Katniss, right. What are you doing here?”

“Nothing. But you need to leave anyway.” Katniss feels her neck heat at the lie. What had she been thinking? That she could just boss him around? Sure, he listened to people smaller than him all the time, but they were still adults. Everyone was smaller than him.

The Lion nods at her. Then he looks past her, and his eyes go sharp. “Ah, I didn’t realize anyone would be... well.” He looks back at her. “Okay, but you need to count to say, two hundred and twenty before climbing the hill after, okay?”

She nods, too relieved this is working to speak. Her father is pretending to be okay but only because he knows that she freaks out when he is not. But she still saw the blood anyway.

The Lion gets up and hauls the other man up after him.

Its Gloss. This year’s Victor. He’s dressed in black and silver metal with red, red lips. He scowls at her, then the tree line, then the Lion in quick succession. “The fuck, Lion?”

“Don’t swear around the kid, smartass.” The Lion brushes off his clothes, “Come on, before your virginal panic leads to my people getting hurt.” He winks at Katniss, “Thanks, Katniss. For the reminder.”

Katniss does not get time to ask why he is thanking her for reminding him of her name. Because he immediately turns and hauls Gloss up the hill after him.

Katniss does not remember to count. But she does not need to because she is too busy clenching her fists in anger after they leave. 

Gloss had killed Twelve’s tributes. Both of them. But the Lion had still been... been kissing him. They were friends! Even though not more than six months ago Gloss had laughed after slicing Sally McMurphy’s stomach open. 

Her father comes limping up beside her. “Katniss? What did he say?”

“I hate him, Daddy.” Katniss shakes and buries her face in his hip when her father tugs her close. “I hate him, I hate him!”

“It’s okay, Katniss. It’s okay. Let’s just get you home.” Father soothes a hand through her hair.

“They were kissing.” She complains during the walk.

“Ah... well boys can kiss other boys. As long as it’s like when boys and girls kiss.” Father tells her.

“I know that. Lion kisses boys a lot. But why him?”

“They’re Victors.”

Katniss sulks. “He really is Capitol. Just like Mama says.”

Father sighs but does not correct her.

It is a long walk home.

3 - Rebuke (post- 67)

The year after Gloss wins, Finnick Odair from Four manages to come out of the Games. He is only just fifteen. The youngest Victor ever.

It is the first year that only Haymitch Abernathy comes home to Twelve. He stumbles drunk off the train with the silver coffins holding that year’s tributes. He stays drunk and angry for weeks, maybe months. Not that the man is usually all that clean-cut or anything, but this is far worse than normal. Bad enough people talk about it even when they know Katniss can hear them.

The Lion is in the Capitol still. He appears in glimpses of television clips that Katniss catches during school assemblies and in some of the shops. Apparently, he has decided to host a cooking show or something.

Well, Twelve is well rid of him. He is clearly better staying in the Capitol, and they are better with him there!

Katniss no longer tries to explain why she hates him. She really does not need to. Everyone hates him. Everyone who is sensible at any rate.

He comes back in time for their part of the Tour and then leaves again. The next reaping is the same way. Then the next year. And the next.

Katniss is not the only person in the seam whose clothes are a little more threadbare than normal. It’s not like the Lion was the only source of cloth or anything, but he was the only source willing to trade squirrel meat, rabbit hide, or pigeon eggs for it. 

Katniss is old enough to understand what being a Victor means now. She has connected the dots from the Lion’s broad frame and pretty house to the kids that die in the arena year after year. She figures he probably kissed up to someone like Gloss and then betrayed him. Because that is what he is. A betrayer.

But it still does not occur to her, when she sees him walking slowly up the path in town, that she should be scared of him. She’s walking Prim to school and is too busy to be scared.

“Hi, Mister Lion.” Prim greats him.

“Shut up, Prim. We don’t talk to him.” Katniss pulls her along.

But Prim digs her heels in. “Hi!”

The Lion lifts his gaze from the path in front of him and blinks at them. “Hello, kiddo. Oh, and Katniss, right?”

Katniss freezes. She does not know why but it hurts that he still knows her name after so many years. He is a traitor to Twelve. To her. The rock is in her hand and then in the air before the thought finishes forming.

He hisses and jerks back. The stone managed to clip his cheek, which is already swelling under his fingers. He glares at Katniss and takes a step toward them.

Then freezes and drops his hand. He looks lost.

“Katniss, say you’re sorry.” Prim demands softly.

“He’s a traitor!” Katniss growls. She tries to pull Prim with her.

Prim stumbles and shouts back over her shoulder, “We’re sorry! She did not mean it!”

“Yes! I! Did!”

4 - Reciprocal (post- 69)

The Lion is there the day that they give her and Gale medals for their father’s deaths. He is on stage, in crisp whites, but all the make-up in the world cannot hide the bags under his eyes.

Rumor has it that he caught a train to come back to Twelve the same night it happened. Which makes sense, because the food at the relief tent got noticeably better after that first day. But this is the first time Katniss has had to see him directly since the Reaping.

He has not changed at all though. Still towering over everyone else and talking really quietly. Like he wants to be your friend so he can rip your heart out and stomp on it.

Katniss is glad that it’s the mayor handing out the medals. She does not want anything from the Lion. She does not need anything from him.

He talks to her mom though. Voice soft and he holds her hands in his before kissing her knuckles and moving on to talk to Mrs. Hawthorn and the other new widows.

He holds everyone’s hand in his and meets all their eyes without flinching. Even when one of the women looks like she might spit on him with how angry she is.

But then he is moving toward Katniss. Somehow, even though Katniss is eleven now, he seems much bigger than he did when she was only four. Even if he still crouches down to her eye level to talk. “Hey, Katniss.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Katniss grits out. She can feel the tears building, hot, and choking in the back of her throat. She does not want to cry in front of all these people.

The Lion nods. He clasps his hands between his bent knees and just looks at her for a long time. “I... I’m proud of you, Katniss. You’re being really brave, and you don’t need to say anything to me right now if you don’t want to, alright? But... you... If you need...”

Katniss stares as the man’s knuckles turn white as his hands grip themselves together too tightly. She thinks of him kissing Gloss and all those people in the Capitol. She thinks of how his stupid cooking show featured Squirrel Soup at least once a year. 

She thinks about how Prim is still wearing a hemmed dress that was originally Katniss’ school dress. But before that, it was this man’s shirt.

She still hates him. “I -!”

“She said she doesn’t want to talk to you!” A boy burst out. “Leave us all alone!”

There is a murmur in the crowd and cameras swing toward them. But not quicker than the Lion is leaping onto his feet and away. He says something to someone else and they laugh. Fake. But it breaks whatever tension was in the room.

The Lion does not look at her for the rest of the event.

Katniss knows because she never stops looking at him.

5 - Reintroduction (post- 71)

Katniss survives that first year without her father because of the boy with the bread. The Lion is seen in the Seam during that time, apparently, but she never spots him.

Even when she went to his house, just once, he was not home. The place dark and dusty. Like no one had ever really lived there.

She survives her first reaping. She glares at him standing up on the stage as he stares off above all their heads. Part of her hates that he will not look at her. That he will not see that she is fine and that she survived. She did not need him.

Then she manages through the second one. Things are still hard at home. But they are not starving, and she even has new boots. Or... they are new to her. The fact that they are broken in is just a bonus.

The Lion is in Twelve half as often as he is out of it. But it is no longer anything that people talk about. It helps that he no longer brings his lovers home with him. It seems that was the real scandal. Capitol people stomp up and down Twelve and sneer while hanging off his arm.

But that is why, when she sees lights on in his house, she points her toes that way. She is still not scared of him. No matter how tall he is or how he smiles and makes other people flinch. The Lion is just part of the Capitol. But like Head Peacekeeper Clay, is. He is a resource, not just a danger. He’s too lazy and dumb to be dangerous.

She comes to the side door, the one she overheard at the Hob is the door he will take trade through. It is split in half, like a shop door. So that he can open it and do trades without anyone getting his special little house dirty.

She knocks.

There is silence for a long time.

Katniss risks another knock. Though this one is barely a tap. This is stupid. She should not be here. She spins on her heel and makes it three steps before the door opens behind her.

It smells like cinnamon, the air that follows him out as he opens the bottom door and walks up behind her.

Katniss cannot make her feet move. Frozen in the early autumn morning air. The fat squirrels she has clutched in her hand feel minuscule all of a sudden. But too heavy all the same.

He walks all the way around her almost, stopping beside the path in front. If she ran, she could probably get away or... she looks at his long legs and reconsiders.

“Hello, Katniss.”

She drags her eyes to his. She decides to ignore the fact that he is in just his underpants under a mostly open robe. Though she feels herself blushing bright red. “Lion. I have squirrels.”

“I can see that. May I?” He extends a hand and seems not to notice her hesitation before handing them over. He examines them carefully. “How is your mother? And sister, Primrose, right?”

“Don’t talk about them!” Katniss grits out.

The Lion nods without looking at her. “Alright.”

His hands are still perfect and deft as he handles the squirrels. He nods at last. “Come on, Let me grab your payment.”

He steps around her, and she follows only to the edge of the door while he disappears through another one. The side door of his house opens up to what is clearly a storage room. Why else would there be bags of cloth next to jars of preserves and even, what Katniss would swear, are bags of tesserae? It’s not like he needs any of this. Especially not all the silk ribbons that are carefully spooled, their bright colors vibrant. The Lion’s hair is not long enough for ribbons.

But when the Lion starts making sense is when Katniss becomes the most important girl in Panem. It will never happen. She might as well wish the Capitol did not exist. It would be easy to make a reality.

He comes back eventually, in pants and everything this time. He does not look surprised she is still there, just a little disappointed. “You killed them clean; these are better than most I get.”

Katniss lifts her chin. “They fell off the fence.”

The Lion smiles. “Yes, they did. But you brought them to me, so, here.”

Katniss knows it is too much. She knows before she counts it, feeling sweat prick on her neck. “This is too much.”

He mutters something. It sounds a lot like muttfucking Everdeens. When she looks up at him, he is staring at the ceiling, face hard. “What is fair, to you then?”

Katniss thinks about it. She moves two of the coins onto the table just inside the door. Then adds another. “Can I buy some ribbon? Not for me but... Prim is in the school choir.”

The Lion blinks at her, his eyes slowly going to the ribbon by the door. His face is unreadable for a long moment then, “What color?”

“The... the blue?”

“Alright.” He flicks a knife from his pocket and cuts a double arm length off. Then does it again, before carefully bundling it up. He tucks it into a small envelope and then holds out a hand for the coins. He slips those inside as well. “Thank you, Katniss.”

Katniss takes the envelope, it's smaller than her palm but bulging with the ribbon. She thinks about the knife he had taken from his pocket. How quick the move had been. She thinks about Jay’s blood splashing the camera during the Games that year. She thinks about Haymitch Abernathy returning home with his coffin while this man, the Lion, stayed in the Capitol. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

“Okay. I’ll be back with more squirrels.”

“I’ll try to be here.”

Katniss leaves and she does not feel like she won that interaction. But she does not feel like she lost it either. Primrose is happy with the ribbon, though. Even Mom smiles at the color. She just grits her teeth and shoves it all back.

The Lion’s money is good, even if he is not.

+1 - Issac (post- 61)

The first time Katniss meet Issac Michael she is four years old.

Katniss is four years old, and Prim was trying to be born. But she was not coming out and it was the middle of the day. Which meant all the men were at work. Mama was losing blood and they needed to get her into town. Because getting the stuff she needed down into the seem was impossible.

Katniss had been sent outside. But she knew things were not getting better and she had heard the other women whispering. They needed someone strong, and they needed them now. 

Katniss knew where she could find someone. Someone too lazy to be working or busy. So, while no one was looking, she left to go get them.

Victor’s Village was fenced in but unguarded. The gate is wide open. She has a moment of doubt, at the edge of the houses, wondering how she is going to tell which one he is in. But there is only one house with the lights on. Even though the other house, further down from it, has a nicer yard.

She bangs on the door of the first house.

She does not stop until it opens to a man holding a knife. He is the same color as she is which means he is the wrong one. “Hi! Where is Issac?”

The man, Haymitch Abernathy who her father told her was nice under all the booze, blinks. Then he turns and yells over his shoulder, “Issac! Door for you.”

Something about his tone makes her think he is laughing at her. But Katniss does not have the energy to get upset.

Issac comes into view. He is not wearing his shiny clothes. He is wearing a crumpled shirt that is too small and dark pants that are too short. But he looks her right in the air as he crouches down, “Hello, kiddo. How did you get up here?”

“I walked. I need you to come with me. Get your shoes.” Katniss says in a rush, trying to stay polite.

Issac looks at her, then past her, then up at Haymitch. “Uhm...?”

“My mom is having my sister and you have to help move her to the clinic. The one in the Justice Building.” Katniss grabs his sleeve and pulls, “Come on!”

“Kiddo I-”

“There’s Blood! And everyone responsible is working.”

“Go. I’ll warn Beth you’re coming.” Haymitch hauls Issac to his feet. Despite being smaller than him. “These damn muscles should be useful now and again, right?”

Issac snorts but grabs his shoes. “Alright. Lead the way.”

It turns out that running most of the way to Victor’s Village means that walking home is too far. Katniss fights it at first, but on Issac’s second offer, she climbs onto his shoulders. They go faster then, with her pulling his hair to help direct him.

There is a quick, angry sounding discussion when they get there. But Mama needs help and ultimately, no one present is really capable of stopping Issac once he gets permission from Mama to move her. He just scoops her up and starts walking.

Katniss helps by staying with him and yelling at people that get in the way. Not many people do, but Issac tells her she is a really good helper.

They get in sight of the Justice Building. People come out and start getting in the way so Katniss yells at them. She does not fully stop until Issac has put her mama down on a bed inside it. Even then, it takes him towing her out of the room before she can make herself stop yelling.

“Hey, she’s going to be okay.” Issac pats her shoulder as Katniss cries into his shoulder. “You did good.”

“Thank you. You did good, too.” Katniss tells him, once she has calmed down.

“We need to leave.” Haymitch appears from thin air.

Issac frowns at him. “Why?”

“You know why, Li-on.” the older man singsonged the last word.

Issac sighs. He stands up and for a moment, just one, he looks sad. “Yeah. Alright.”

“Issac, wait!” Katniss calls after him. But he does not turn.

Haymitch grabs her shoulder and stops her from following. He looks at her seriously, “You’re a good kid. Stay here. Your father will be here soon, alright.”

After, her father will tell her that she is not allowed to call him Issac. Mama will tell her that he is dangerous and that she is not allowed to call him anything.  Issac will make it easy, to forget him. The young man that carried her mother disappears under layers of glitter and white. He kisses boys and men, women and girls, and smiles with all his fangs on television. He becomes less and less Twelve as he sinks further and further into the Capitol.

But Katniss never manages to be scared of him. She only gets as far as angry. Betrayed.

She carries that anger until she is the most important girl in all of Panem.