#a cheeky repost for us (fuck u tumblr)

[mxllitiam]

Peeta can see it - that breath of relief. It’s something he recognizes well, from him and his brothers. The times growing up where something was too loud, too messy, freezing in fear and watching the door. The obvious relief spread over them when they realized Ma wasn’t coming. It happens still, even now. Hadn’t he just experienced that only months before with Cael?

But this is about Gale’s mother. Peeta understands it, if only from the peripheral. He’s only really experienced the Games from the inside or the outside, never in that in-between state. It’s similar, now, if only because he’s tasked with bringing someone home, but Hazelle is not his family. She’s not his mother. He’s never just had to wait to see if someone would die, he’s only ever had to wait for his only death, conflicted about the fact it never came.

There’s no thank you, not really. Gale is pissed it hasn’t happened sooner and Peeta understands, but also knows that the other man will never get the complexities of these decisions. He will never understand what it’s like to weigh the pros and cons of an outcome in the arena. “It was my choice,” he says, honesty coming more easier if only to protect Katniss from the wrath of her best friend.

She’s hurting because of Gale, Peeta knows she is. “They wanted to do this right away - Katniss wanted to. I said no. ‘Cause it’s more complicated than it looks. Everythin’ in the Games is a decision - everythin. From who to trust to when to sleep to how to eat. I’m not gonna say I’m sorry for waitin’. She’s gonna have to do some of it on her own. The worst thing we could do for her is to waste all our resources in the beginning and then find out she needs us down the line 'cause she got hurt and now we’ve got nothin’ left to give.”

continued from @subsiist here

Knowing that it was Peeta's choice was interesting. Gale's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes a slow blink as he takes that in. Rage would undoubtedly grow and fester at an alarming speed in his chest, if it weren't for the pillowing effect of confusion at remembering that Katniss is the one that kept this piece of information from him. It's a wonder that Peeta Mellark, kid's merchant who owns a bakery and never had to worry about starving to death, thinks he can fucking control whether or not Gale's mother gets some help in the Games.

But it's more of a wonder that he's heard. That Katniss chose to take that ridiculous idea of his and make it a reality, because she is a part of the mentors too, they're a team. You would think she'd be the louder voice in the room -- not only because of that annoying performative gentleness of Peeta, but also because she's the one connected to the woman inside the arena. If no one else, she should call the shots.

He spews the exact same speech Katniss had regurgitated to him a few days before, with alarming precision. Gale laughs bitterly about halfway through it, when he realizes this. A hand comes up to rub at his eyes, scratching an itch he can't get rid of because it is born out of the annoyance of having to deal with this fucking idiot. "Yeah, good fuckin' job, ass wipe," he mutters, letting his hand drop so he can glare back at Peeta again. How wonderful, to know that this is the man who's made a puppet out of his best friend. Katniss Everdeen, new Capitol doll and married to the Capitol's very boyfriend. Gale was mean to her then, had regretted it over the last couple of days, but now the anger grows again, rots and spreads decay in some far away part of his heart as he thinks of Katniss and Peeta, sitting in a lounge together rehearsing what bullshit they're going to tell him, to continue sitting on a pile of sponsor money.

"You here to tell me that, then? That my mother needs to do it by her own fucking self," his voice grows higher pitched at the words in mockery, but his eyes are burning a warning into Peeta's. "Yeah, your wife was here earlier this week and said the same shit. Y'shoulda coordinated with her better. Did you get your scripts mixed up, bread boy?"