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urdreamgirls-dreamgirl · 1 year

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may the odds be ever in your favor.

“Dustin Henderson!” The voice rings out from the front of the crowd, perky and cheerful, like the whole entire town hasn’t been gathered here to watch as two of its children are sent to the slaughter on national television.

Steve’s heart pounds in his chest. Sweat breaks out across his back. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, makes his fingertips throb. Dustin, just a few rows in front of him, turns to look at Steve. He meets Steve’s gaze with tears in his eyes, panicked.

Steve can’t think. He can’t see anything beyond Dustin’s fear.

“I volunteer,” he hears himself yell out. His voice sounds shockingly calm to his own ears. “I volunteer as tribute.”

There’s a murmur in the crowd, a ripple of movement. No one from their district has ever volunteered in the history of the Games. Steve is eighteen. This was his last year participating in the Reaping. He'd almost made it.

The fear doesn’t disappear from Dustin’s face, his eyes round and glassy. Steve is distantly aware that Dustin is yelling, but he can’t hear anything over the rushing in his own ears. A Peacekeeper appears on either side of him and they pull him towards the stage, their hands firm and bruising around his biceps. Steve’s feet drag. He can’t seem to lift them high enough to step on his own. The Peacekeeper’s practically drag him up the steps and onto the raised platform of the stage.

Sam Owens, the tribute escort for their district, is smiling wide, teeth white and blinding in the morning sun. He pats Steve on the back, moves him to center stage with his hands on Steve’s arms.

“District 12’s first volunteer ever!” Owens yells into the microphone. “How exciting! History in the making.”

There’s only silence. Steve’s eyes find Claudia Henderson in the crowd. The look on her face shifts from relief to horror and back again. Even from here, Steve can see the tears on her face, shimmering in the sunlight.

Just then, movement at the back of the crowd of teenagers catches his attention. He spies Nancy in one of the back rows. She isn’t ever included in the Reaping, has never had to sign up for tesserae as the mayor’s daughter, but she always shows. Every year when Steve asks about it, she mumbles something about ‘bearing witness.’

Nancy, beautiful in her expensive wool dress, dark hair curled and pinned out of her face, raises her left hand. She presses the fingertips of her first three fingers to her lips before raising her arm high into the air.

Steve watches in fascination as the crowd shifts, shuffling in place, before lifting their own hands and mirroring Nancy’s salute. Steve swallows, breathes deep for the first time in what feels like hours.

Owens’s smile falters, but only slightly. “Right. Now for the girls.” He moves to the large glass bowl, hand circling, fingertips reaching. He pulls a tiny folded paper from the bowl. His hands are quick and sure as he breaks the seal, glancing down at the name. “Robin Buckley!”

The crowd shifts again. Steve feels his lungs collapse in his chest. He focuses in on where Robin stands at the center of the crowd of girls. Her mouth hangs open, her blue eyes huge in her pale face. Steve feels as if his knees are about to give out, wobbly and weak, but he somehow manages to keep his balance. He sees Nancy—just beyond Robin—barely react, but doesn’t miss the way her jaw tightens and her fists clench at her sides, knows her well enough by now to read her tells. The crowd parts as Robin slowly makes her way towards the stage. Owens pulls Robin by her hands, positions her so she stands shoulder to shoulder with Steve.

Steve feels like he might lose consciousness at any moment. His stomach turns, throat constricting. His vision goes dark around the edges.

He can’t bring himself to look over at Robin, knows he’ll lose control if he does, but he feels the back of her hand brush against his, feels her pinky curling around his. He has to bite back a sob and looks down at his feet, breathing deep through his nose.

Everything becomes a blur. Time seems to simultaneously slow down and speed up. Peacekeepers flank Robin and Steve as Owens leads them toward the Justice Building. They only have so much time before they’re forced onto a train bound for the Capitol, will only have a handful of minutes to say goodbye to everyone they’re leaving behind.

Once they make it to the Justice Building, they’re led into a wood-paneled sitting room with overstuffed armchairs and too many throw pillows. Steve’s head is starting to pound, temples throbbing. He feels a heavy pressure behind his eyes and he falls onto a couch in the center of the room. He leans his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He pushes his palms against his skull. He’s vaguely aware of Robin perched on the cushion next to him, spine ramrod straight, both feet planted firmly on the floor. Her hands twist in her lap.

Steve isn’t sure how long they sit there before the door opens and Dustin comes rushing toward him. Claudia Henderson follows closely behind her son. Robin’s parents bring up the rear.

“Steve, are you stupid? Why would you do that?” Dustin screeches at him, flinging his arms around Steve’s neck—practically tackling Steve into the cushions—and holding on for dear life. Steve can’t respond to him, throat suddenly dry. All he can do is bring his arms tight around Dustin, returning his hug. Several long moments pass before Dustin finally releases him. He looks so young, face red and blotchy. He brings his sleeve up to wipe at his nose and something in Steve fractures as he watches him.

Steve looks at Claudia, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. He stands from the couch and opens his arms to her. She practically falls into him, winding her arms around his waist. “Don’t let him watch,” he tells her, voice low so Dustin won’t hear. He feels his own burning tears spill from the corners of his eyes. They only have a few moments together. “Promise me. Please. He can’t watch.”

Claudia lets out a sob, but Steve can feel her nod against him. “I promise. Come back to us. Promise to fight, Steve,” she whispers, so only Steve can hear. Steve breathes in deep, smells the floral perfume she only wears three times a year on special occasions, the one that reminds him of warm hugs and home.

“Promise,” Steve whispers back.

The visitors are ushered out of the room and Steve is finally able to look at Robin. Her eyes are bright, shiny with tears, but she hasn’t cried, not yet. She has that look on her face, the one Steve recognizes as determination. The one she wears when they decide to break Capitol rules and hike out into the woods, into the bright sunny clearing by the stream where her quick fingers work on building her traps while Steve sharpens his arrow- and spearheads. All they can do is stare at each other.

Someone knocks softly on the door, breaking the spell between them. They both jump and turn toward the sound as the heavy door creaks open. Nancy steps through.

Her face is swollen and her eyes are red-rimmed, but her bottom lip is firm and her head is held high. She has something clutched in her hand.

She crosses the room to where they sit. She kneels in front of them on the patterned carpet. She grabs at Steve’s hand with her free one, pressing whatever’s in the other into Robin’s palm.

“You’re allowed one token from home in the arena,” Nancy’s voice comes out low and quick. “Will you wear this?” Robin looks down at her hand, turns over a gold pin. Steve can’t quite see what it is, thinks it might be the shape of a bird.

Robin nods, gaze lifting to meet Nancy’s.

“Stick together,” Nancy tells them. “Promise. That’s what will get you through the Games. Trust no one but each other. They want a show. Give them one. I—just—” She clearly wants to say more, but she bites her lip, shaking her head. Her curls bounce. “Just. Keep each other safe. Stay alive.” As she says it, a single tear falls from her eye. She abandons her grip on Steve’s hand to wipe it away angrily. “Promise,” she demands.

“Promise,” Robin’s voice comes out a hoarse whisper. “We promise, Nance.” Her fingers curl around the gold pin.

Nancy wraps them both in firm but quick hugs before she leaves the room without a backward glance.

~*~

Robin and Steve are left alone for what feels like hours but can really only be a few minutes before being driven to the train that will transport them to the Capitol. Owens leads them into the lavish train car, where the District 12 mentor, Murray Bauman, already sits.

“Well,” he says, smiling grimly, arms open wide. “What beautiful and brave tributes we have this year.” He takes a swig from the bottle clutched in his hand.

Neither Robin nor Steve speak, they just move toward the seats opposite Murray, dropping down onto the plush cushions in tandem. Steve’s head is still pounding, exhaustion making his arms feel heavy.

Steve must fall asleep sitting up, because the next thing he knows, he wakes to a moving train and dark windows. Robin is no longer next to him. He hears murmuring and glances around, finding Robin and Murray huddled together in a corner, heads close.

Steve clears his throat, sitting up straight. The two of them glance toward him. Robin gives him a tight smile, small and strained. Murray’s grin is wider, but no more happy than Robin’s.

“What’d I miss?” Steve mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Talking strategy,” Murray tells him. “Come join the party.” He pats the seat of the chair next to him.

Steve pushes himself from his seat and crosses the small space, dropping heavily into the wooden chair.

“I was asking Murray about finding shelter in the arena,” Robin says softly, like she can tell that Steve’s head is still killing him, despite his nap.

“Right. So?” Steve turns toward Murray.

“So your first priority is surviving long enough that you’ll even need shelter,” Murray replies. “The first few moments in the arena are the deadliest. Absolutely brutal. The Careers will rush the Cornucopia and unprepared tributes will be picked off one by one. Don’t get caught up in the bloodbath.”

Steve thinks that they probably should take everything Murray says with a massive grain of salt. He and Robin hadn’t even been alive when Murray had won the 50th Games almost 25 years ago, but it was common District knowledge that he’d only won as a fluke, because of stupid mistakes other tributes had made and not because of any strategic prowess on his part. Now, Murray was mostly known as the town drunk, who spent his winnings at the only pub in town and more often than not made a fool of himself as he stumbled through the streets before the miners had even broken for lunch.

Steve and Robin share a look.

“No, stop, what’s that?” Murray says pointing between them. His gaze jumps from Steve to Robin and back again.

“What’s what?” Robin asks, genuine confusion coloring her voice.

“That look. Are you… can you read each other’s minds?” The last part is said in a fascinated whisper.

“You’re drunk, old man,” Steve says, rolling his eyes and scowling. Murray is getting on his last nerve already.

“You’re not wrong, kid.” Murray smiles and takes another pull from the bottle in his hand.

Steve sighs. “We should probably call it a night. It’s been a long day. We can reconvene when our heads are clearer.” He gives Murray a pointed look.

“My head is plenty clear,” Murray slurs.

“Right. Get some sleep,” Steve tells both Robin and Murray. “And drink some damn water.” The last part is directed at their mentor.

Murray salutes them both before disappearing from the train car, wandering off to his bed.

Robin and Steve stand in silence.

“Well, goodnight, Steve,” Robin whispers into the space between them. Her voice sounds small in a way it so rarely does. Steve can’t help but reach out a hand to her, pulling her into his chest before she goes of to bed. She sags against him, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

“We’ll figure it out, Rob,” he mumbles into her hair, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head. “We always do.”

Robin sniffles and pulls away, rubbing a hand over her face. “Yeah. We always do.”

She gives him one last look before following Murray out of the train car.

I made a post a lil while ago abt a Steddie x Hunger Games AU because Hunger Games was all over my for you page for whatever reason. Here’s a take on it. This will likely continue BUT I do not do tag lists. I’m sorry! They give me anxiety 🌝 hope you like it!

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