A/N: This is the one-shot I've been waiting to post. Happy day six of my week of updates, this is the final one-shot being posted this week in honor of my third year on FF. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that this is the best Hunger Games one-shot I've ever written. I can't tell you guys how much I love this.
I hope you guys enjoy this, because I sure as hell do :D
A Kiss with a Fist is Better than None
"My black eye casts no shadow
Your red eye sees no pain
You slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit
So we remain the same
Blood sticks, sweat drips
Break the lock if it don't fit
A kick in the teeth is good for some
A Kiss with a fist is better than none …"
-Florence + the Machine Kiss With a Fist
"What are you doing?" she breathed
I'd been trailing kisses down her neck, lightly pecking where her skin felt softest. She yanked my hair and forced my eyes to meet hers. She looked wild, with her hair in tangles and blood flushing her fair skin.
I brought a finger to my lips. How softly I'd kissed her.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought.
"I got carried away." I crashed my lips back against hers which felt much more familiar than whatever I was just doing. I bit her lip with a force that drew blood as we both somersaulted off the bed, tangled in sheets that we knew would be ripped and bloody by the end of the night.
Stupid, I thought as I grabbed at her. She yelled out in pain. I'm doing this to Clove, not a blushing schoolgirl.
She shoved me off her, and my head hit against the wall. There would be a bruise on the back of my neck the next morning.
She leaned into me, digging her fingernails into my wrist.
"Never do that again," she spat. Now it was my turn to wince, because her weight was crushing me. "Treat me like the girl I am."
I smiled wickedly. In response, I pulled her back onto the bed by her hair, ripping out strands.
We weren't quiet. And we weren't sorry.
"I never knew you could be so gentle."
My tone was mocking as I said it. It was late in the Games, and Clove was helping me nurse a wound. What a twisted team we made. The tributes from District Two were careful, patient, and mindful of one another. I gave Clove my jacket when she was cold; she cleaned the wounds I couldn't reach.
It was so different from our bedroom behavior.
She looked me in the eye. She leaned in to me and whispered in my ear, "I'm not gentle, I'm a good actress. You're the gentle one."
My pulse raced at the mention of this, but I miraculously kept it together.
She wasn't lying. I remembered those kisses I'd trailed down her neck, the soft strokes I'd given her skin. It'd only happened once, and only for a minute, but it'd happened.
I slowly said to her, "You just wait until we get home. I'll have my way with you."
She laughed. "The violent or the gentle one?"
"There's been a slight rule change."
I looked up from the blood on my sword. The hovercrafts had long been gone, taking the bodies of the Star-crossed lovers from District Twelve with them. Clove and I were standing alone in the field, waiting for the trumpets to sound. We won.
But she was looking at me, her fist still clenched tightly around the knife.
"The ruling that allowed for two Victors has been, err, revoked."
I know both our hearts stopped at the mention of this.
"There can only be one winner."
Before the words had left his mouth, I was on top of her, and she was slashing at me and we were going back in forth in a dance that was sure to be deadly.
She sent a knife at my thigh. It lodged itself deeply, down to the bone. It was just enough time for her to send one into my gut.
With that, I slashed at her forehead, and left a line of blood from her temple to her neck. Her left eye swelled over, and if Clove did win this thing, I found it hard to believe that the Capitol would be able to fix this injury.
I slashed again. This time, I severed her hand.
She screamed out in pain and pinned me to the ground, using her free hand to carve a wound that ran from my chest to my groin.
We weren't quiet, and we weren't sorry.
How similar this is to our bedroom behavior.
"You're killing me, Clove," I spat out, and blood splattered on her face as I hacked off part of her leg.
She managed something in between a laugh and a scream. "Oh, you're doing just fine yourself."
She'd positioned her knife to go completely through my gut. I'd positioned my sword to sever her head.
We both struck at the same time.
Both blows were deadly, and we were the last two standing.
Claudius screamed just in time. My weapon had barely reached her neck, and the tip of her knife was lodged in my stomach only slightly.
It was out of instinct that we both dropped our weapons and staggered backward onto the ground.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present, the Victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games! I give you—the tributes of District Two!"
"We weren't both supposed to win those Games, Cato."
It was a late night in the Capitol. Our mentors had given up on trying to separate us, because at this point, there was no reason for one of us to kill the other. The Games were over.
"I know." I grinned. "Two kids so hellbent on killing each other, if you'd let them fight to the death there would be no winner."
"Only from District Two," she said sarcastically.
We both laughed. I turned to her.
The Capitol could fix her left eye.
"I liked that, though." My words hung in a way that she didn't have to ask what I was talking about. "Too bad you almost killed me."
She nodded. "I'll agree with that."
What a twisted pair we were.
We weren't sorry.
Ours was not a tale of star-crossed lovers.
The love hadn't existed, but I'd be fooling myself if what we had was hatred. I wish I could hate Clove. Life would be so much easier if I didn't find myself going back to her bedroom, time and time again.
Things were different after the Games. We didn't rip sheets or bloody each other up. She let me touch her softly, she let me kiss her with a closed mouth and caress her as much as I wanted.
It went both ways.
We were alike in every way humanly possible. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought we were separated at birth. We killed. We enjoyed it.
We weren't quiet, and we weren't sorry.
But with that theory, shouldn't it make sense that I'd hate Clove, at least a little bit? I hate myself, after all. But I could never hate her.
I wish I hated Clove.
What a twisted pair we are.
"Are we done here?"
That was Clove's response when I pulled out the ring. She didn't show any sign of happiness, she stared at me in a way that I knew she was fighting off the tears in her eyes. We both knew what this meant.
"It's too bad that I fell in love with you, right?" I said, my voice hoarse and breaking.
Love wasn't something we celebrated. It was a tragedy. I would take the violent delights we shared any day over the tender kisses we knew now.
But our story was a matter of circumstance. And circumstance made me love her.
So with teary eyes, she put the ring on her finger and flung herself at me. She let me caress her and kiss her softly. We lay in bed that night, the only sound being the pattering of rain on the roof.
We were quiet. And we were sorry.
A/N: Ahh, this was so up my alley I can't begin to tell you. I love these two with a capital L, and I just felt the need to explore the AU Cato/Clove where they do win the Games. Since the rule change allowing for one Victor applied to Katniss and Peeta, I don't see why these two would be an exception, but the double suicide scheme seemed exponentially unlikely for Cato and Clove. So here's my take on how Cato and Clove won the Hunger Games, and how it made their relationship evolve.
Here are the titles and pairings of the six one-shots I've posted this week, check them out if you'd like—
No Space Among the Clouds (Marvel/Glimmer)
When the Skies get Rough (Peeta/Katniss)
The Merchant Girl (Haymitch/Maysilee)
Help, I'm Alive (Johanna)
A Kiss with a Fist is Better than None (Cato/Clove)
Lights Will Guide you Home (Mr. and Mrs. Undersee)
Thank you so much for reading, leave a review if you'd like and I'll be back with more Clato in the very near future :D