She can’t make up her mind; Katniss cannot be asked to choose who she loves more - who she loves best - and in that way, it makes most sense to share her. Except that she doesn’t like it, and she isn’t happy, being passed between them like an object. She is not a doll, not a girl to be toyed with and tossed around.
Katniss doesn’t ask for much, but she asks for this, because she thinks that if they can both love her, can’t they love each other too? In the beginning, she thinks that maybe she’s asking for too much - wanting the moon when she's been given the stars - that it isn’t fair to ask them of this, but they touch each other tentatively, Peeta first, just a brush of lips against his cheek. Gale turns his face abruptly, large hands cupping his nape.
Sometimes, she forgets how much bigger than Peeta, Gale is. For a split second, Katniss is worried that he’s going to break his neck. Instead, he leans down and kisses him, rubs his thumbs against his jaw and this is, this is - maybe, they stand a running chance.
Peeta looks dazed when Gale takes a step back and Katniss understands why, knows that Gale kisses like he means it, kisses you within an inch of your life and then pulls you back in only to shove you hurtling towards that inch again. Peeta draws her in, close, so that his mouth is against hers. And the weirdest thing is that she can taste him on his lips: she can taste Gale, the taste of mint leaves that he’s always chewing, and fresh like open air, and she taste Peeta underneath it, like flour and sweet like the sun.
His eyes are blue, and when she turns around, Gale is watching them both. Struck by a need to know - is it same the other way around? - she pulls him into her by an invisible rope tied around his waist, leans up on her toes to run her tongue over his lips, rub it across the roof of his mouth.
And while she kisses him, one hand stays curled into the fabric of Peeta’s shirt. Her men look at each other over her shoulder, and like everything else, this is all for her.
but mine is more of a drabble anyway so that justifies it in my head
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She can’t make up her mind; Katniss cannot be asked to choose who she loves more - who she loves best - and in that way, it makes most sense to share her. Except that she doesn’t like it, and she isn’t happy, being passed between them like an object. She is not a doll, not a girl to be toyed with and tossed around.
Katniss doesn’t ask for much, but she asks for this, because she thinks that if they can both love her, can’t they love each other too? In the beginning, she thinks that maybe she’s asking for too much - wanting the moon when she's been given the stars - that it isn’t fair to ask them of this, but they touch each other tentatively, Peeta first, just a brush of lips against his cheek. Gale turns his face abruptly, large hands cupping his nape.
Sometimes, she forgets how much bigger than Peeta, Gale is. For a split second, Katniss is worried that he’s going to break his neck. Instead, he leans down and kisses him, rubs his thumbs against his jaw and this is, this is - maybe, they stand a running chance.
Peeta looks dazed when Gale takes a step back and Katniss understands why, knows that Gale kisses like he means it, kisses you within an inch of your life and then pulls you back in only to shove you hurtling towards that inch again. Peeta draws her in, close, so that his mouth is against hers. And the weirdest thing is that she can taste him on his lips: she can taste Gale, the taste of mint leaves that he’s always chewing, and fresh like open air, and she taste Peeta underneath it, like flour and sweet like the sun.
His eyes are blue, and when she turns around, Gale is watching them both. Struck by a need to know - is it same the other way around? - she pulls him into her by an invisible rope tied around his waist, leans up on her toes to run her tongue over his lips, rub it across the roof of his mouth.
And while she kisses him, one hand stays curled into the fabric of Peeta’s shirt. Her men look at each other over her shoulder, and like everything else, this is all for her.
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(Also, I find it absolutely ridiculous that we are all filling this prompt XD My flist is made of awesome.)
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