Fic - the beginning of a new age (Gale, Katniss/Gale, Jo/Gale) pg, 1/1
Title: the beginning of a new age
Summary: The lies we tell ourselves are the easiest ones of all.
Rating: pg
Author's Notes: 563 words. Post-series. First try. Con-crit is both welcome and appreciated. This is definitely not my sandbox. Written for Winterfest Gift-Giving over at leverageland.
For alinaandalion
Jo has a mouth on her that runs and runs and never shuts up.
Gale likes it. Probably a little more than he should.
He likes it because it serves as a constant reminder of all the ways Jo is nothing like Katniss. Gale likes it until he remembers these two women, these women who are more or less defining two very separate acts of his life, are more alike than they are different.
Katniss and Jo were born from the same cloth -- all hard edges and dark pasts, scars embedded into their bones and muscles, covered with shiny new skin but laid bare for any who paid attention. Jo likes to talk, sure, but she never really says anything. She uses meaningless words to cover up all the things she hides, all the things she doesn't want people to know. Katniss merely uses silence as her weapon of choice.
Gale likes the way Jo talks, even if she's never really saying anything. All Katniss' silence ever did was remind him that he was never good enough, that even with her sitting right next to him in the woods day after day, his fingers gliding over hers as he taught her how to mold the perfect snare, he was alone in whatever it was he felt.
It's okay that Katniss chooses Peeta, Gale tells himself, because he never wanted her to know what he felt sitting there in the woods, knowing what love was, but that he could never have it.
The news of their wedding spreads all the way from twelve to two. It's years later, longer than he thought it would take, to be honest. He's on the roof of his apartment building. The city is roaring to life below him as night ascends, and he's cleaning his bows and knives. He misses the woods. He misses the life he had before all of this, the simplicity of it. He does not miss Katniss, he thinks, but the lies we tell ourselves are the easiest ones of all.
Gale hears Jo before she even opens the door, hears the clink, clink, clink of her heels as they make their way up their stairs.
When the door slides open, he hears her laugh, the edges without any mirth. "Wallowing?" she asks, and he doesn't turn to look at her. Only leans into her touch when she draws a hand over the line of his shoulders when she's within his proximity.
"Decompressing," he corrects. Jo moves to stand in front of him, leaning against the low wall of brick that is meant to keep her from falling off. She has a bottle of something amber and full-proof dangling between her fingers.
"If you say so." He doesn't have to look at her to know she's rolling her eyes.
"I do."
Jo turns her back to him for a minute, watches the skyline before her. Gale goes back to the task at hand, waits for her to continue down this path or choose another one.
"She's an idiot," she says, finally, and Gale's movements pause at this, his head tilting to the side. "A stupid fucking idiot," she adds, needlessly, and Gale just laughs, and shakes his head.
I love you too, he thinks, and would say it if they were those types of people.
Instead, he just smiles when he kisses her.
Summary: The lies we tell ourselves are the easiest ones of all.
Rating: pg
Author's Notes: 563 words. Post-series. First try. Con-crit is both welcome and appreciated. This is definitely not my sandbox. Written for Winterfest Gift-Giving over at leverageland.
For alinaandalion
Jo has a mouth on her that runs and runs and never shuts up.
Gale likes it. Probably a little more than he should.
He likes it because it serves as a constant reminder of all the ways Jo is nothing like Katniss. Gale likes it until he remembers these two women, these women who are more or less defining two very separate acts of his life, are more alike than they are different.
Katniss and Jo were born from the same cloth -- all hard edges and dark pasts, scars embedded into their bones and muscles, covered with shiny new skin but laid bare for any who paid attention. Jo likes to talk, sure, but she never really says anything. She uses meaningless words to cover up all the things she hides, all the things she doesn't want people to know. Katniss merely uses silence as her weapon of choice.
Gale likes the way Jo talks, even if she's never really saying anything. All Katniss' silence ever did was remind him that he was never good enough, that even with her sitting right next to him in the woods day after day, his fingers gliding over hers as he taught her how to mold the perfect snare, he was alone in whatever it was he felt.
It's okay that Katniss chooses Peeta, Gale tells himself, because he never wanted her to know what he felt sitting there in the woods, knowing what love was, but that he could never have it.
The news of their wedding spreads all the way from twelve to two. It's years later, longer than he thought it would take, to be honest. He's on the roof of his apartment building. The city is roaring to life below him as night ascends, and he's cleaning his bows and knives. He misses the woods. He misses the life he had before all of this, the simplicity of it. He does not miss Katniss, he thinks, but the lies we tell ourselves are the easiest ones of all.
Gale hears Jo before she even opens the door, hears the clink, clink, clink of her heels as they make their way up their stairs.
When the door slides open, he hears her laugh, the edges without any mirth. "Wallowing?" she asks, and he doesn't turn to look at her. Only leans into her touch when she draws a hand over the line of his shoulders when she's within his proximity.
"Decompressing," he corrects. Jo moves to stand in front of him, leaning against the low wall of brick that is meant to keep her from falling off. She has a bottle of something amber and full-proof dangling between her fingers.
"If you say so." He doesn't have to look at her to know she's rolling her eyes.
"I do."
Jo turns her back to him for a minute, watches the skyline before her. Gale goes back to the task at hand, waits for her to continue down this path or choose another one.
"She's an idiot," she says, finally, and Gale's movements pause at this, his head tilting to the side. "A stupid fucking idiot," she adds, needlessly, and Gale just laughs, and shakes his head.
I love you too, he thinks, and would say it if they were those types of people.
Instead, he just smiles when he kisses her.