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prefect30 · 2 days

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Little Dove

Instead of Lucy Gray, he got her younger, little sister, Rosalie Jade.

Chapter Four

Chapter Warnings: MDNI/18+/Mature scene - consented.

“I’m sorry ‘bout your friend.”

Today was the first “official” mentor-tribute interview day. Conveniently, the day after Arachne’s death. So here sat Rosalie Jade, along with the other 22 tributes, at a small table, where they were hand-cuffed to the table–the Academy didn’t want any more accidents–and each mentor was sat on the other side of the table, facing their tribute.

Coriolanus had already had an idea that Rosalie Jade was not one for violence, but rather peace and serenity. His idea was proven correct when he watched her throw up the food he had gotten her after watching Arachne be murder. It was further proven when he watched her comfort the one girl, who’s name he learned was Wovey, when Arachne’s murderous tribute had been displayed for all at her services, including the rest of the–very much alive–tributes. This was most definitely going to be a problem in the arena, where Rosalie Jade would be surrounded by destruction, violence, and death. She would not be able to hold someone’s hand as their head, and inturn, hers, would be cut off. So Coriolanus made a mental note to himself to make sure to work on getting her used to the site of blood, destruction, and death. How to do that, he would figure out later.

“It’s fine, Little Dove. She was just someone I knew from my childhood.” Coriolanus waved her off, sitting down across from her.

“She was a bitch and needed to die anyway.” Was what Coriolanus wanted to add, but decided against it, knowing how sensitive and fragile his tribute was.

“She was still your friend, though. Still someone ya’ knew Coryo.” Rosalie Jade responded, putting her small finger tips that the cuffs allowed her to, and traced small comforting lines back and forth on his hand.

Coryo. God, it sounded so good, I should have made her call me that from the start. And who knew that someone from District 12 could have such soft hands? They’re like fucking clouds. Can people feel like clouds?

“I guess you’re right. It’s ju-it’s been so different without h-her here.” Coriolanus lowered his head, putting his hand into hers so she was able to put her whole tiny hand on his large one, encouraging her to rub her thumb over his knuckles. Coriolanus would milk this tit all fucking day if he could. The sensations he was feeling from her hands on his just made him feel so comforted, wanted, loved.

“It’s ok Coryo. While I can’t promise you anythin’, just know that things will get better. You just gotta have hope.” Rosalie Jade tried to move closer to him, but a Peacekeeper near them put his hand on his gun, saying not to move any closer to Coriolanus, saying that the tributes were meant to keep a controlled distance away from their mentor. Coriolanus internally groaned at that and cursed Arachne for her stupid antics that now has everyone paying the price.

“Thank you, Little Dove.” Coriolanus smiled at her.

“Anytime Coryo.” Rosalie Jade smiled back at him, squeezing his hand in return.

Coriolanus, instead of doing his job and trying to help Rosalie Jade win, Coriolanus just sat there with a smile on his face that made him look like a teenage boy in love, trying to hold Rosalie Jade’s hand as long as he could, relishing in the wonderful feeling and burst of happiness he was getting from being touched.

“Hey, ah, where were you this mornin’? Everyone else’s mentors were here, but you weren’t. Thought you might’ve forgotten me!” Rosalie Jade joked, releasing her hand from his.

Feeling cold and wanting to get her warmth back, Coriolanus grabbed her hand again, in a comforting way, “Oh, I would never forget you Little Dove. I just had to drop something off for someone at the Citadel.”

It was true, Coriolanus was running late this morning because he needed to go to the Citadel first since he needed to drop off his paper of ideas for Dr. Gaul. The same paper that Clemensia insisted that she help on, which she did not. Since Arachne’s untimely death, Clemensia has barely talked to Coriolanus about the paper, let alone anyone. She seemed to have actually cared about that obnoxious little bitch that was going to try to blackmail Coriolanus. Coriolanus, however, couldn’t give two shits. He never really liked Arachne and when she started showed signs of wanting to blackmail Coriolanus, well that was the last straw. She had to go. But the day of her death, he found himself lying awake at night, not being able to fall asleep. Maybe it was guilt about not being able to save Arachne or maybe it was that her death reminded him too much of his mother’s. It was probably the latter. So that night, Coriolanus stayed awake and wrote the whole paper, putting all of his ideas down messily then fixing it up formally on the final copy. The last two nights had gone into revising the final copy so it would be perfect for Dr. Gaul. He needed this paper to be perfect for her if he wanted any chance of helping Rosalie Jade.

“Oh, ok!” Rosalie Jade smiled, leaning back in the chair as much as it would allow her, releasing Coriolanus’ hands for the final time. “So, whatcha’ got planned for me, Mr. Snow?” Rosalie Jade teased.

“Right! So for your final interview-” Coriolanus started but then was cut off by Rosalie Jade snapping at him, “I’m not talking ‘bout the interview, Coryo. I’m talkin’ ‘bout the Games. What can I do to live?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, we need to focus on your interview. That is what will help you.” Corioalnus told her, getting a little frustrated, that she cut him off.

“You want to help me?” Rosalie Jade questioned him.

“Of course Little Dove.” Corioalnus answered.

“Then start thinking that I can actually win.” She said, looking him in the eyes while leaning in closer.

Well, she does have a point there. But she is just so damn small! How can she survive?! Ohh!

“You're right. I’m sorry. When we get the tour of the arena tomorrow, we will look around for somewhere for you to climb or run and hide in. That is going to be your best bet. Don’t go into the Cornucopia right away, it’s just a trap to lure you into your death. That is where most of the deaths happen. We even call it the ‘Blood Bath’ whenever we go over previous Games in class because it is always so brutal and bloody.” Coriolanus tried to give her as much information as he could without overloading her small little brain.

Rosalie Jade didn’t say anything, but rather just stared at him in awe. In a terrified awe. Coriolanus saw as her sky blue almond eyes filled with tears. Other than the Reaping, where she almost cried in front of all of Panem, Coriolanus had never seen Rosalie Jade cry before. She had always been happy, making light of her horrible situation. Now, she sat in front of him with her head in her hands, crying her pretty little eyes out.

“Hey, it’s ok. I promise. My job is to protect you and keep you safe and alive. I intend to do that.” Coriolanus said, grabbing her hand and rubbing his fingers against her knuckles this time.

“I-I’m so-ory. I didn’t want to c-cry, b-but-I…I-I don’t wanna die, Coryo.” Rosalie Jade choked out.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to be sorry, Little Dove. You’re gonna be just fine. Ok? I promise, I am going to keep you safe.” Coriolanus said, taking his handkerchief out of his breast pocket, wiping away her tears.

“Why don’t I tell you what I got you for your interview, huh?” Coriolanus said, trying to distract Rosalie Jade.

“Y-yeah.” She hiccupped.

“I got you a guitar! Remember, just like you asked.” Coriolanus said enthusiastically, trying to cheer her up just like an older brother would do for their little sister.

“Really?” Rosalie Jade said, her tears glistening in hope.

“Yup! And my cousin is even going to let you borrow a dress just for the interview so she can wash your mother’s dress. She promises that she will be very careful.”

“T-that’s nice.” Rosalie Jade said, starting to come back to her normal, fun, light hearted self.

“Yeah.” Coriolanus absentmindedly said, so happy that he was able to make her happy and smile again. But as soon as he got her somewhat to her normal self, he remembered why he was here. Why she was here.

The form.

“Hey, so I need to ask you some questions to fill out this form on you. It’s to help with your interview.” Coriolanus said, hoping that the form wouldn’t upset her again and lead her to cry once more. He didn’t think his heart could handle his Little Dove crying again, this time because of him and not the Games.

Rosalie Jade just looked up at him, drying up her final tears with his handkerchief, and nodded.

“Great. So we have your name, age, District, and you already said that you have one sibling, your sister, Lucy Gray.” Rosalie Jade just sat there, nodding along with him in awe when he remembered her sister’s name, let alone that she even had one. She didn’t think that Coriolanus was listening to her when she had randomly brought up her sister.

“So that just leaves a partner, hobbies, and skills. We can cross off partn-” Coriolanus started but was cut off with Rosalie Jade saying, “Oh! I do have a boyfriend. Quite handsome if I do say so myself.” She smiled up at him, her previous sadness seemingly gone.

What!? Who?

Coriolanus internally growled to himself. Who could this little girl possibly be dating and why?

“Yeah? And who’s that Little Dove?” Coriolanus asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep his composure.

“The baker’s boy of course! Ryder Mellark, but we all call him Rye.” Rosalie Jade said matter of factly.

That’s such a stupid fucking name.

“Why do you care, though? You jealllllllous?” Rosalie Jade teased, dragging her L.

“W-what. No-o.” Coriolanus turned red at her accusation. He just wanted to know who thought that they were good enough to have his Little Dove.

Rosalie Jade just laughed at him stumbling over his words, “Oh my gosh, relax! I’m just playin’ with ‘ya. I ain't dating no one. Lucy Gray would rather have me hung than have me date someone. Though, the baker’s son is quite cute. Rye, not Corbin, he’s already datin’ someone…”

Coriolanus just let out a sigh of release as he let Rosalie Jade rant. He would let her talk as much as she wanted if it meant that she wasn’t dating someone. But for some reason, her thinking that Rye was cute, irked him.

“What about your hobbies?” Coriolanus cut off her rant as he realized that his time with her today was dwindling down.

“Oh, well I like to sing, but you already know that. I like to dance and swim too. Ooh! Before District 4 became District Four, when we were down there, Lucy Gray taught me to swim, so now I’m an expert! I swim so much down in the lake during the summer that my hands are almost always pruned up! You would like the lake, maybe one day you’ll get to see it.” Rosalie Jade smiled sadly at him, relaxing that she would never see her lake again.

“Or maybe I might visit you after you win and you can show me.” Coriolanus lied, trying to keep her spirits up. To that, she smiled back at him, this time more cheerfully. But there was no way in hell that Coriolanus was ever going to step foot in District 12 of all places.

“So I guess I can put swimming down as one of your skills. Do you have any more?” Coriolanus asked.

“No, sorry.” Rosalie Jade said, looking down, anxiously playing with Coriolanus’ handkerchief.

“Hey, it’s ok. At least you have something.” Coriolanus calmly told her, reaching his hands out towards her, wanting to take it in his hand again, but Rosalie jade took this as him wanting his handkerchief back.

“No, it’s ok. You keep it to dry your eyes whenever you need to.” Coriolanus told her.

It most certainly is not ok. You have no other skills than swimming in a dry land arena. How that fuck is that going to help you me?

“I can’t Coryo, it’s yours.” Rosalie Jade said, continuing to push his hand back to give him his handkerchief back.

Grabbing her hands and looking her in the eyes, Coriolanus said, “It’s fine Rosie Jay, it’s yours now. I have more at home.” He didn’t have many left, but she didn’t need to know that.

She finally accepted the handkerchief, but only in shock of him calling her Rosie Jay instead of Rosalie Jade or Little Dove.

“Alright! Time to go! Mentors, go please exit from the front left door! Tributes, stay where you are until a Peacekeeper comes to move you back into the monkey exhibit.” Coriolanus heard a Peacekeeper say.

He quickly stood up and walked to Rosalie Jade’s left side, giving her a kiss on the head, “I will see you tomorrow, Little Dove. I’ll make sure to bring you food, too.”

“Thank you, Coryo.” Rosalie Jade said, kissing him on the cheek in a sisterly love way, causing Coriolanus to blush and his body to tingle. Once he said goodbye to her, he started to walk away, contently until one of his peers, Festus Creed, started to join Coriolanus on his walk to his class.

“Quite the goodbye, huh.” Festus said to Coriolanus.

“I suppose you’re right. Just trying to calm her down.” Coriolanus defended.

“Right.” Festus laughed as he started to walk away from Coriolanus.

Idiot.

God, my pants are so tight.

Coriolanus was sitting in his seat, listening to Highbottom drone on about past Games and how the mentors could use them to their advantage to get a better chance for their tribute to win. But the only thing that Coriolaus could focus on was his pants. They just felt so tight.

Maybe Tigris did something to them or I outgrew them? Fuck.

Coriolanus kept moving in his seat, trying to make himself comfortable, but to no avail. His constant moving caught the eye’s of some of his fellow students, and Highbottom’s.

“Is there a problem Mr. Snow?” Highbottom raised his left eyebrow towards Coriolanus.

“Yes, I have a question.” Coiolanus said. He couldn’t say he needed the restroom without people thinking that he was about to pee himself.

“And what might that be, Mr. Snow?” Highbottom asked, condescendingly.

“You said that Cassius Heath was the first ever victor, from Two. The next from One, and the next, Two again. It has been a pattern since the start of the Games, with the occasion of one of the lower Districts winning every few Games. I mean, there have only been two winners from lower Districts. So why is it that the higher Districts almost always seem to win?” Coriolanus asked. He had made it up as he went, but as he finished, he heard the logic behind his made-up question.

Highbottom opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He looked stumped, like he didn't think Coriolanus was actually going to ask a question. Finally figuring out an answer to giver him, Highbottom said, “Are you proposing that the higher Districts are possibly preparing kids for the Games? Cheating?”

“I wouldn’t put it behind them. They have the money too, they could train them, maybe even get some to volunteer.” Corioalnus spoke confidently, amused that he had stumped High-as-a-kite-bottom for once.

“Hmm. Stay after class, Mr. Snow. I would like to talk to you more on this idea of yours.” Highbottom said, shrugging off Coriolanus’ answer. Coriolanus knew better than to think that Highbottom was going to actually talk to him about his idea. No, he was most likely going to lecture him about disrupting his class.

“Yes, of course, Dean Highbottom. Also, may I use the restroom?” Coriolanus quickly said.

“Yes, boy, go. I don’t need you disrupting my class any longer.” Highbottom waved him off.

Or maybe he’ll lecture me in front of the whole class.

“You know, that shirt looks quite good on you, Coriolanus.”

Oh fuck off.

“Thank you, Livia.”

Coriolanus was just trying to open the door to the men's restroom when Livia Cardew came up to him, flirting. Why? Coriolanus had no idea.

“Can I help you Livia?” Coriolanus asked, just wanting to try to fix his pants.

“No,” Livia said, bluntly walking up to Coriolanus, “but maybe I can help you with something.” She said, slightly rubbing her hand on his crotch.

Coriolanus immediately turned red, “W-what are you talki-what are you doing Livia?”

“Oh, come on, Coryo. You can't act all high and mighty in front of that tribute of yours, stump Highbottom and expect me to not be turned on. I mean, have you seen yourself. You look like a fucking Greek God. And that's with your clothes on, I can only wonder what you look like with them off.” Livia mumbled the end, continuing her ministrations on Coriolanus’ hard dick.

Coriolanus was about to speak up, to correct her when she called him Coryo, only Rosalie Jade could call him that, when he realized that he could use this situation to his advantage. Livia came from a wealthy family and with what she had said about wondering about him, Coriolanus could only imagine how many times she had gotten herself off to the thought of him. He had caught her on many different occasions staring at him or more specially, his arms, hands, and pants. He had caught many other girls, but Livia was a reoccurring face. What can he say? Coriolanus Snow was a catch.

Coriolanus, composing himself, grabbed Livia's hand and brought her close to him, and in turn his dick, causing her to whimper, “Why thank you Livia, but it seems that you want help from me though, doesn't it?” Coriolanus asked cockily, smirking to himself when he moved his free hand to Livia's waistband of her pants-skirt uniform, toying with it lightly drawing a soft moan from Livia.

God, I haven't even done anything yet and she is already a pathetic whimpering, moaning mess.

Livia just nodded her head as he lightly pulled her into the bathroom by her waistband. He let go of her wrist and locked the bathroom door, he knew no one would be in the bathroom during class, it was almost an unspoken rule of not going during class as it would ruining precious learning time, but Highbottom must hate Coriolanus so much, that he didn't seem to care much about his learning time. How rude.

Coriolanus moved his hand further down into her pants, lightly rubbing his knuckles over her wet underwater, drawing a gasp from Livia.

The second he ghosted his fingers over her clit, he pulled them away, “Too bad you said you didn't need my help. But I do recall you offering your help.” Coriolanus smirked as he watched her face go from pleasurable excitement, to disappointment, and back to excitement again. He continued to smirk as she lowered herself onto her knees in front of him.

“Good girl.” Coriolanus whispered, as she slowly brought down the lower part of his uniform. He looked her in the eyes as she brought down his underwear, watching his hard dick smack his stomach. He smirked as she gasped at his size and leaned his head back as she gently took his dick in her hand, pumping him up and down.

He closed his eyes in pleasure as she went faster. He let out small grunts and groans of pleasure, but nothing that would make Livia feel praised. She didn't deserve Coriolanus Snow's praise.

She slowly brought him into her mouth, taking as much as she could while jerking off what she could fit. The unexpected warmth caused Coriolanus to buck his into her mouth, making her gag slightly.

Coriolanus, deciding that her bobbing up and down on his length wasn't fast enough, brought his right hand down to her hair, roughly grabbing some of her hair, making her go faster. Livia whimpered from his hold on her head and gagged from the sudden movement.

God. I can't believe that I am doing this. I'm letting this pathetic, little self entitled bitch suck me off during class. But she came onto me, so it's not really my fault. Besides, I was already hard, I needed something or someone to give me some release.

Coriolanus slowly started to buck his hips more into Livia's mouth, causing her gagging to become more frequent.

I still can't believe that I am doing this in school. And right after talking to Rosalie Jade. Oh, Little Dove, what am I going to do about you? There has to be some way to keep you safe, to make sure that you live. That you can go back home to your sister, to me. We could be a family. You're like my little sister. Yes. My singing, fragile, cute little sister. I would protect you just like a big brother. I would do better than your sister did. I would have never let you get Reaped. I would keep you safe, my Little Dove.

As Coriolanus was thinking fantasizing about what to do with Rosalie Jade, he continued to fuck Livia's mouth, his pace increasing giving her mouth no relent.

Maybe I could keep you in the Corso, away from all the dangers of the world. Just like a bird in a gilded cage.

With that, Coriolanus' grip on Livia's hair tightened, keeping her on his cock as he released himself inside of her throat with a loud groan.

He kept her there for a moment, enjoying the warmth she brought that reminded him of Rosalie Jade, and reluctantly let her off to breathe.

Who knew blondes could give good head? I wish her hair was more golden though, like Rosalie Jade’s.

He went into one of the stalls and grabbed some toilet paper, cleaning himself off first, then walking over to Livia–who was still trying to catch her breath–and lifted her chin up with his two fingers, cleaning up her face, focusing on her mouth. He had to seem somewhat kind after he just roughly fucked her face, otherwise she might not like Coriolanus anymore with how he treated her and then he might lose a way to get money. But the lovestruck look in her eyes as Coriolanus cleaned her up told him otherwise.

Maybe she's a masochist?

He looked her in the eyes as he spoke slowly, “You're gonna keep this between us right? Our little secret?”

Livia nodded as she moved herself onto his left shoe, humping it gently, trying to relieve some pressure. Coriolanus quickly moved his foot away, gripping his jaw harshly, “Words, Livia.”

“Yes. Our little secret.” Livia answered, blissfully, for her dreams were coming true. Well, some of them.

Coriolanus just smirked, moving towards the door, exiting with cold words, “Then maybe you should go to the nurse, get an ice pack for your head, wouldn't want anyone getting suspicious of us both going to the restroom at the same time. It would ruin our secret, now wouldn't it?”

“Y-yes! It would. I will! Bye Cory-” Livia started, but was cut off with Coriolanus slamming the door on her face.

“What a gentleman, thinking about my head.” Livia said, dreamily as she got herself ready to go to the nurse.

“And why would you think this, Mr. Snow?”

Had Coriolanus known that Highbottom was going to tell Dr. Gaul about his “question,” he would have tried to at least prepare himself a little better. Instead, he stood across from a curious Dr. Gaul and a smirking Highbottom.

Fucking bastard.

“Well, while I know that the Games are still young, it seems that there has been a victory pattern. The higher ranking Districts seem to almost always win the Games, with the occasion of a tribute from a lower ranking one” Coriolanus was trying to make himself sound as serious as possible since he was now presenting his “question” to Dr. Gaul. Had it just been Highbottom, then Coriolanus would have been looking for ways to get Rosalie Jade food by now. He wasn't going to listen to whatever the incompetent man had to say.

“Are you suggesting that there is some sort of cheating going on in the Districts, Mr. Snow?” Gaul asked, with an eyebrow raised. Had she missed something? Was that why the ratings have been going down since the seventh Games? Were the people of the Capitol getting bored of seeing the same few Districts winning?

“I think there has been some sort of training going on in certain Districts. That they are preparing their tributes for the Games,” Coriolanus started, “That they are choosing certain boys and girls before the Reaping so they have a better chance of winning. The boy tribute last year even volunteered.” Coriolanus finished.

“But why, Mr. Snow? Why would a District go through all that trouble to just win back the same person they sent to die. They don't get anything else in return.” Gaul countered, getting more intrigued by the minute.

“For the sake of being the Victor. It is the only thing that they can win back from the war other than a kid they sent to die. But they can only be the Victor for a period of time. And that's what I wrote about in the paper you assigned Clemensia and me. I think that if there was something for the Districts to win other than the person back, they would be more inclined to try to win. To play our games.” The whole time Coriolanus was saying this, Highbottom was just watching the two of them, scowling in disgust.

What is his problem? He was the one that caused this. The Games and this conversation.

Gaul just looked at him in delight. She had a feeling that Coriolanus and her were going to get along just right.

“Yes, the paper. I read it and was very impressed. Please get Clemensia and I would like to see the both of you in my office at the Citadel in exactly 10 minutes.” Gaul answered, completely ignoring everything Corilanus had said except for the paper.

Coriolanus smiled as he nodded, his eyes watching Gaul leave the room. When he went to grab his damaged and decaying satchel, he heard Highbottom speak for the first time since this conversation had started.

“You are just like your father, you know that boy?”

What?

“How did you know my father?” Coriolanus asked, confused.

Highbottom just chuckled to himself and smiled at Coriolanus, “Some things are best kept a mystery.”

Coriolanus just stared at him, perplexed. He realized that this conversation was going nowhere, so he started to leave when he was yet again stopped by hearing Highbottom's rough voice.

“Hey, good luck with that little songbird of yours. You're going to need it.”

Fuck off.

“Thank you.” Coriolanus decided to keep his thought to himself, seeing as he didn't want to get another dermit.

“Coriolanus, know that I will do everything in my power to keep you from winning that Plinth Prize.” Highbottom said, calmly as he watched the boy continue to walk away from him, seemingly ignoring him.

“And know that I will do everything in my power to win and keep Rosalie Jade alive.” Corioanus told the man as he closed the door on him, giving Coriolanus the last word.

However, what Coriolanus didn't know was that Highbottom had been watching him during his interview with Rosalie Jade. How he couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself, how he was getting closer to her. He didn't like that and feared for poor Rosalie Jade. For he was worried terrified that Coriolanus was more like his father than he originally thought. And that Rosalie Jade would suffer a similar fate to Juliet Snow, Coriolanus’ late mother.

“Could you at least give me a run down of the paper so I won't be completely clueless?” Clemensia pleaded with Coriolanus.

Had you done it with me, we wouldn't have this problem.

Coriolanus had got Clemensia just like Dr. Gaul had asked, and they were walking to the Citadel to see her. But since Clemensia had blocked herself off from what seemed to be the entire world after Arachne's death, she didn't write a single word on that paper. So Coriolanus was just informing her the basic gist of the paper and key points he wrote about.

“I can't believe you actually were able to even write anything or do anything for that matter after her death. I-I wasn't able to even sleep. I couldn't seem to do anything.” Clemensia said, looking down at her feet as they walked up the stairs to the Citadel.

“Well I couldn't sleep, that's how I was able to write it.” Coriolanus told her, not wanting to sound like a complete dick for not being sad over someone wanting to blackmail him, die.

Clemensia just hummed at him in response, keeping her head hung low as they followed someone to Dr. Gaul's office.

Maybe they were closer than I thought?

As the woman who guided them to Gaul’s office opened the door for them, Coriolanus quickly realized why the woman left them so hastily. Gaul’s office seemed to be more of a mad scientist lab rather than an office. It was covered from head to toe with odd and crazy looking animals, mutations, and in the far right corner there was a large case filled with some sort of fluid, holding what seemed to look like a human.

Its body looked mutated, its bone’s piercing through the skin, eyes bulging out of their sockets, holding onto dear life like the nerves trying to hold onto a young child’s extremely loose tooth. There were bald patches all over its body that showed signs of chemical burns, but where there was hair, feathers could be seen growing out of its body, giving it a hunched back form from the heavyweight of them. But its mouth. Oh its teeth had been melted into sharp fangs, blood stuck on the corner of its mouth. And as if there were invisible strings, it was smiling right back at Coriolanus. Looking him straight into his eyes, into his soul. As he got closer, he could see the pain and misery in its eyes. And that when he realized that it had no tongue.

It's an avox!

Bang!

“Ahh!”

Coriolanus quickly turned around at Clemensia’s shriek. She had gotten too close to one of the mutations and it had banged its head against the glass, scarning her. She hurried over to Corioanus and grabbed his arm, “I don't like this Coriolanus.”

“Neither do I.” He responded, holding her hand in an attempt to comfort her. While Coriolanus Snow wasn’t fond of many people, Clemensia Dovecote was one of the very few people Coriolanus tolerated being around, even though she had her moments.

“There you two are,” Gaul’s voice boomed. They both turned around quickly to see Gaul smiling creepily at them, “Follow me please.”

As they walked up to her, Coriolanus got a better look at some of the other mutations. The others are animals, or at some point in time, they were. There was a bird that had the body of a mauled lamb, and sharp claws like a lion. It was a bloody, disgusting mess.

“Do you like my mutts?” Gaul asked Coriolanus, catching him looking at them longer than Clemensia could stomach.

“What?” Coriolanus ask, confused.

“My mutts. Isn't it marvelous how something simple can be turned into something so beautifully dangerous?” Gial asked, dreamily.

Coriolanus simply nodded, not understanding how something so horrible looking could be seen as beautiful.

“Speaking of beautifully dangerous, I read your paper, and I must say I am very impressed by you two. Your ideas brought up good points, and gave me a new perspective of looking at the Games. How we can help the tributes, reap the rewards, and let them figure out the inner themselves. Individually, you both are good students, but together you show incredible potential.” Gaul said, smirking at them.

But right as Coriolanus and Clemensia went to thank her, she cut them both off, “You did both write this, correct?”

Shit.

Coriolanus knew that lying to someone as powerful as Dr. Gaul wouldn't go over well, so right as he went to confess, Clemensia interrupted him, “Of course we did, Dr. Gaul. Like I said on the day you assigned this paper to us both, we are partners, we always work better together.”

No, you idiot! Don't lie to Gaul!

Coriolanus went to say something, only to yet again be interrupted by Gaul, “Wonderful. However it seems my incompetent assistant put your paper inside my new creations home,” As she said this, she pointed over to a beautiful, large, tall case, holding rainbow colored snakes, “You wouldn't mind getting it for me, would you Miss. Dovecote?” Gaul asked, tilting her head, lightly pushing her and Coriolanus towards the case and up the stairs.

Clemensia just looked at the snakes in horror, asking, “Is there a point to the color?” To this Gaul laughed, stating, “Oh there is a point there to everything my dear. For them, I found that having the victims of their bites see a rainbow of color before their death, giving them a false sense of hope, is more amusing than watching them just die.”

Clemensia just looked at the mad woman in shock, not knowing how to respond.

Because the only thing more powerful than fear is hope.

“Now, are you going to retrieve your paper or not?” Gaul asked, tilting her head amused.

Clemensia gulped, “But how is this safe. I don't want to get bit!”

“Oh, relax child. You won't get bit, it is completely safe.” Gaul told her, reaching her own hand in, letting a snake coil around her arm. So Clemensia slowly started to reach her shaking hand in.

“Oh course if they have your scent, which should not be a problem because of your paper. But, if they did not, well once might not want to stick their hand in there.” Gaul told her, and just as Coriolanus put the pieces together, he was too late, again.

“Ahhhhh!” Clemensia screamed in pain, falling backwards onto the ground with a harsh thud.

Coriolanus quickly ran to the edge of the railless staircase. “Clemmie!”

“So it was your sweaty palms who wrote the paper?” Gaul asked him, nonchalantly as Peacekeepers quickly came in and put a shot into her neck, carrying her away.

“What, yes, is she going to die?” Coripanus asked her frantically.

“Depends on how hard she fights. Now your ideas, I liked them, all of them. I have already talked to my team about incorporating the sponsor idea and how to get them food and water there, but your other ones might take more time. The betting will happen this year though and it shall be the pinnacle of this year's Games.” Gaul continued, not caring about how one of her own students just got bit by one of her own creations.

Coriolanus, still in shock from what had just happened, almost missed what she had said.

She liked them, all of them. And she is going to move forward with them, some of them this year! This Is it. This is how I help Rosie Jay!

So he answered with the only thing he could get out of his mouth, “Ok. Thank you.” Gaul just looked at him, amused. “You may go now, Mr. Snow. I wouldn't want you to be late to your next class.”

With that, he turned on his heel and started to leave rather quickly, wanting to get out of this lab from Hell. But as he reached the door he was stopped by Gaul's voice, “Coriolanus, in the future, don't ever lie to me again. It will not bring you anything good.” She said, all amusement gone.

He just nodded.

Last night had brought much stress to Coriolanus, he had to somehow find extra food that he didn’t have, and bring it to Rosalie Jade. He would worry about getting the guitar and dress to her later. But once he came home from the Academy last night and was given time to himself, the event finally sunk in. He had watched Clemensia get bit by a poisonous snake that Gaul made and let bite her. She let one of her own students get hurt and possibly die by one of her own creations, and didn’t give a flying fuck. He watched, yet again, another person he knew get hurt when he could’ve saved them. This is the second time and Coriolnaus wouldn’t let it be a third time, not with Rosalie Jade. He needed to save her because she would save him in more ways than one.

So here he was, walking up to the zoo as he heard something lovely.

“Down in the valley, the valley so low

Late in the evening, hear the train blow

The train, love, hear the train blow

Late in the evening, hear the train blow.”

It was Rosalie Jade.

“Go build me a mansion, build it so high

So I can see my true love go by

See him go by, love, see him go by

So I can see my true love go by.”

She was singing again.

“Go write me a letter, send it by mail

Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail

The Capital jail, love, the Capitol jail

Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail.”

Good girl.

“Roses are red, violets are blue

Birds in the heavens know I love you

Know I love you, oh know I love you

Birds in the heavens know I love you.”

“You have such a beautiful voice, Little Dove.” Coriolanus told Rosalie Jade as he walked up to the cage.

“Why thank you, Mr. Snow. You as well.” She giggled.

Coriolanus laughed, “Thank you, Miss. Baird. My grandma’am kept me up all night practicing to make sure that I hit all of my notes.”

“Well I think you did an awful good job.” She smiled at him.

Awful good?

Coriolanus just smiled back at her and to her backwards way of talking. “I brought something for you.” He finally said, reaching into his satchel to give her the food.

“Ooh, yummy.” She said, making grabby hands at him in a cute way.

“Here you go.” He said, laughing at her childish actions. He watched as she split it into halves. Thinking it was for him, Coriolanus got ready to put his hand out to take it, but instead, Jessup came up from behind her. He crouched down to her level, whispering something into her ear, and taking the other half of the sandwich. As Coriolanus watched in shock disgust as Jessup took his food, he noticed something on the boy’s neck. A bite mark.

He watched him walk away in confusion.

What bit him and when?

He looked back at Rosalie Jade, who was content eating her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, “What was that mark on his neck, Rosie Jay?” He asked her.

“Hm? Oh, Jessup? Yeah, he got bit by a rat on the first night here. They put rat poison around the cage, but the rats know to not go near it. He just came over to get some food and say thanks for letting him use the handkerchief.” She told him, finishing up her sandwich.

“Oh.” He just responded.

She let someone else use the handkerchief I gave her?

Rosalie Jade looked up at him, sensing his disappointment, “Sorry, it’s just that I didn't really need it and it would have helped Jessup more than me at the time.”

Didn’t need it?

“It’s okay, Rosalie Jade. I just thought the sharing ended at the food, my bad.” Coriolanus pettily replied. She just looked up at him, feeling guilty now that she had seen Coriolanus was upset with her actions. Coriolanus, while feeling bad that she felt guilty, felt powerful that she felt guilty because she had upset him. That she felt bad because she disappointed him and he felt amazing about that.

“So what song are you going to sing for your interview?” Coriolanus asked, changing the topic, not wanting her to feel too bad.

“Oh, I uh, have a good one picked out.” She said, looking down.

Shit.

“I’m sure whatever you sing is going to be amazing, just like you.” He said, racing his hand through the cage to lift her chin up to him.

“You really think so?” She said, her eyes tearing up.

“Of course I do, Little Dove.” He told her, smiling softly. She smiled back.

“Alright, let's go!” A Peacekeeper said. It was time for the mentors and their tributes to see the arena for the first and only time before the Games.

“I’ll see you there, Little Dove.”

He could have her feeling bad for a little longer. She gave away his gift to her, she needed to be punished somehow.

“Enjoy the show!”

As all the tributes and mentors walked in, the phrase, “Enjoy the show!” was heard. This was because the arena used to be a circus before the Dark Days, a circus where Coriolanus would occasionally go to before the Dark days.

Coriolanus and Rosalie Jade were near the end of the line, with Lysistrata Vickers and Jessup behind them. As they walked through the dark tunnel, Rosalie Jade grabbed Coriolanus’ hand, holding onto it for comfort. He held her hand back in a tight grip. And when they reached the final entrance to the arena, where there was light and cameras, she went to let go of his hand, but he held on tighter, not wanting to let her go.

She just looked up at him as the two of them went to their own area away from the others.

As Coriolanus was looking around the arena, trying to find places for Rosalie Jade to hide, he felt her wrap her arms around his waist, nuzzling her head into his chest, crying, “Don’t leave me die in here, Coryo. Please.”

He quickly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer to him, whispering sweet nothings into her ear in an attempt to calm her down. When he realized that wasn’t working, he reluctantly pulled her away from his chest, “Hey, hey. Look at me Rosalie Jade. You’re not going to die in here, ok? I promised you that I was going to get you home and I plan on keeping that promise. I’m not going to let you di-”

BOOM!

And just like that, the world seemed to stop.

Bomb time.

During the Dark Days, whenever bombs were going off, Tigris and Coriolnaus had named it Bomb Time. And that’s what this is. Somehow, someway, bombs had gone off in the arena. Coriolanus had gotten flung away from Rosalie Jade and had no idea where she went.

“Rosalie Jade!” He yelled, only getting screams as a response, but no her screams. He kept looking for her, trying to find her to get her out. She would not be the third.

CRASH!

“Ahh! Help!” Coriolanus yelled. He was currently getting crushed by something and that something was on fire. It was burning through his clothes, burning his skin.

“Ahhhh!” He groaned. He kept trying to move it off of him, but to no avail.

This is it. I am going to die.

Just then, he saw a flash of color.

Rosalie Jade!

She had come back to him, but there was someone trying to pull her back, away from him to safety. It was Marcus.

“He wouldn’t save you! Go, get out while you can!” He yelled to her.

Of fuck you.

But Rosalie Jade pushed him away and went to Coriolanus, trying to lift the piece of rubble off of him. He knew by herself, she wouldn’t be able to get it off, so he started to push again. And after a few good moments of pushing, they got him free. He went to reach for her, to get her out of here, but she was quickly taken by Peacekeepers.

“No! Rosalie Jade!” He yelled, but then quickly collapsed from the pain and exhaustion just as a Peacekeeper came to get him.

“Shh, look. He’s waking up.” Coriolanus heard someone say.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Sejanus and Tigris hovering around him.

Where am I?

“Hey, Coryo,” Tigris gently spoke while caressing his face, “I was so worried about you.”

Oh.

“You missed Bomb Time.” Coriolanus told her, slightly joking.

“Yeah.” She just told him, laughing lightly as a single tear rolled down her face.

“I’m ok, Tigris. I promise.” He told her, looking at Sejanus, wondering why he of all people was here.

Promise.

“R-rosalie Jade, is-is she-” He struggled to get his words out, in fear that something had happened to her, and Tigris noticed this, swiftly cutting him off with, “She’s fine, Coryo. I just dropped off the dress and guitar for her interview.”

“They are still going on with the Games? Wait, interview? How long have I been out for?” He asked, wincing as he sat up with the help of Tigris.

“You’ve been out for almost three days, Coryo. And I know, it’s ridiculous, I can’t believe that they are still continuing with the Games. Hell, Felix is laying on his deathbed right now.” Sejanus ranted.

“Was anyone else hurt?” Coroilanus asked.

“Yes, many. A handful of tributes died, as did some mentors. The Apollo twins, they, um, they died. Most everyone else just got injured. One tribute got away. Mark, I think was his-” Tigris choked out, only to be cut off by Sejanus saying, “Marcus. His name is Marcus.”

Your tribute. The one that tried to get Rosalie Jade away from me.

“Right, Marcus. Sorry.” Tigris said, apologetically to Sejanus. No one knew what was going to happen to Marcus when he was inevitably found, but when he was, they knew it would be bad.

“And now, for our last interview, please welcome Rosalie Jade Baird! Get up here you little songbird.” Coriolanus looked up at the T.V. hanging on the wall when he heard Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman's annoying voice. And that’s when he saw her, or rather, the dress.

It was meant to be a 12th birthday gift for Coriolanu’s unborn baby sister, for when Tigris found out her aunt was pregnant, she was so excited and was just learning how to sew. She had sewn dresses for each of the unborn baby’s birthdays up until 21 years. She didn’t think much about measurements back then, she just wanted to sew and show her love. But when his mother and baby sister died, the Snow’s ended up burning them for warmth or selling them for food. However, Tigris couldn’t part with the 12th one or the 1st. Both were a beautiful, white dress made out of silk and tool. The represented what the Snow name was meant to be, what it had been. Beautiful, elegant, rich, and pure.

“Hello Capital, Districts. I wrote this song for some people back where I’m from and I hope they hear it.” She said, as Coriolanus walked closer to the T.V. with the help of Tigris. She looked beautiful, like a true dove. But the second she started singing, Coriolanus finally figured it out.

“My father never talked a lot

He just took a walk around the block

'Til all his anger took a hold of him

And then he'd hit

My mother never cried a lot

She took the punches, but she never fought

'Til she said, "I'm leaving, and I'll take the kids"

So she did.”

Watching her up there on that stage, wearing his unborn baby sister’s dress, golden wavy locks shining in the lights, making her look like an angel, he finally figured out what she reminded him of on the first day in the zoo.

“I say they're just the ones who gave me life

But I truly am my parents' child.”

She was what his baby sister was supposed to be like. She was what Coriolanus was supposed to protect from the world. She was his little sister.

“Scattered 'cross my family line

I'm so good at telling lies

That came from my mother's side

Told a million to survive

Scattered 'cross my family line

God, I have my father's eyes

But my sister's when I cry

I can run, but I can't hide

From my family line.”

Everytime someone had told him, “Good luck with that songbird of yours” or “Your tribute,” they were right. Rosalie Jade was his tribute. His girl. His Little Dove. She was his.

“It's hard to put it into words

How the holidays will always hurt

I watch the fathers with their little girls

And wonder what I did to deserve this

How could you hurt a little kid?

I can't forget, I can't forgive you

'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me.”

He had let her down, according to her song at least. He let his baby sister feel hurt, get hurt. And he was so angry at this. Why would her own family hurt her, hurt someone, something beautiful and pure?

“Scattered 'cross my family line

I'm so good at telling lies

That came from my mother's side

Told a million to survive

Scattered 'cross my family line

God, I have my father's eyes

But my sister's when I cry

I can run, but I can't hide

From my family line

From my family line.”

He had let her down. He had let her get hurt in this horrible world, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. Ever.

“Oh, all that I did to try to undo it

All of my pain and all your excuses

I was a kid but I wasn't clueless

Someone who loves you wouldn't do this

All of my past, I tried to erase it

But now I see, would I even change it?

Might share a face and share a last name, but

We are not the same.”

He heard a sniffle from his right, and looked over his shoulder to see Tigris silently crying. Then he looked around the hospital and realized that it wasn’t just Tigris who was crying. No, all of the nursing staff was. The audience on the screen was crying and that’s when he saw her donations. He was so focused on her that he didn’t even realize that her donations were way past 1,000. The singing had worked. She had gotten the hearts of the Capital, of Panem.

“Scattered 'cross my family line

I'm so good at telling lies

That came from my mother's side

Told a million to survive

Scattered across my family line

God, I have my father's eyes

But my sister's when I cry

I can run, but I can't hide

From my family line

From my family line.”

“Well, ding, ding, ding! We have reached a record high donations for the evening. See what happens when you do stuff?” Lucky joked, walking back into frame, quickly wiping his tears. Rosalie Jade wearily smiled at him, wiping the stray tear that had fallen from her cerulean, doe eyes.

“Now I don’t love your odds, but may they be ever in your favor.” Lucky told her as he pulled her into a gentle hug that Rosalie Jade visibly relaxed into. She needed a good hug and the last time she was given one, she had watched her mentor be blown away from her.

Don’t touch her.

He let her go and flicked a coin into the air, stating, “I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, the Capitol’s weathercaster and amateur magician. This was the first ever Hunger Games: Tribute Interview.” He finished, catching the coin, and then the screen went black.

“Thank you for being here. Both of you.” Coriolanus told Tigris and Sejanus, which was answered with Tigris giving Coriolanus a light reassuring squeeze on his shoulder and Sejanus saying, “Of course, it’s what friends are for.”

Coriolanus just ignored the friend's part because he was thinking about how he needed to pay his little sister a quick visit, as well as the newly destroyed arena.

“Rosalie Jade!” Coriolanus called out, softly.

“Rosie Jay!” He called again, but for no one to come out. He went to call out again, only to see something move in the darkness in the cage.

Oh thank God.

“Coryo! Oh, you’re safe!” She whispered, quickly coming over to him and reaching her hands through to take his. He saw how her hands had some burns on them, but they seemed to have been treated with something.

“Yes, yes I am. Here I have something for you,” He told her, keeping one of his hands in hers and the other to pull out his mother’s compact, “Here, take this for the arena. It was my mother’s. I wanted you to have it so you can have something to remember me with. It always calms me down when I have something to look at that was someone’s who loved me.”

She smiled, but shook her head, “Thank you, Coryo. But I can't, it's too fine.”

“Please, take it. I will feel better knowing that you have this on you,” He told her, but quickly realized that she wouldn’t take it because she didn't want to take it from him forever, “Think of it on loan. When you get out of that arena after winning, you can give it back to me, ok?” He told her, trying to change her decision. He just wanted something that she could remember their mother by.

“Besides, you can use it to help yourself in the arena.” He told her, subtly shifting his eyes to the rat poison that was within reach to her and her slim arms.

She looked him in the eyes and nodded, getting the hint. He continued to look at her, not wanting to leave her just yet. Not again. He had already lost his sister once, and he wasn’t going to lose her again.

“Is this real?” He asked, eyes starting to water at the thought of losing her.

She nodded her head, “Yes, Coryo. This is real.” She might have meant it in a different way than Coriolnaus, but right now, he didn’t care.

“Listen to me. I went back into the arena and looked around. The bombs completely destroyed it, meaning you have more places to hide. There is a vent system underground that you can hide in, it’s near the back right hand side of the arena. Get there by yourself, alone. Promise me. Promise me that you will get to safety the second that bell rings.” He asked her, to which she hesitantly nodded.

He grabbed her head and kissed her forehead, whispering, “I promise that I am going to get you out of the arena alive, back to your family, safe.” Which family that was, well she didn't need to now.

She just hugged him back and they stayed like that until he had to leave.

“I'll see you soon, my Little Dove.” He told her, walking into the darkness of the night.

“Alright, everyone, smile. It’s why we have teeth!” Lucky yelled, energetically to all the mentors.

Coriolanus just sat in his chair, anxiously. He was watching as all the tributes were walking into the arena. He watched as Wovey took Rosalie Jade’s hand, comforting her. How they smiled at each other only to be ripped away from each other by Peacekeepers.

“Ok, we are going live in 10, 9, 8…” Lucky told everyone, but Coriolanus was too concentrated on Rosalie Jade, who was walking up to her spot.

“Hello. I am Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, your Capitol news weathercaster and amateur magician. And I am very pleased to tell you that I am hosting the Hunger Games for the very first time. Exciting, right! Now, cameras have been placed inside of the arena so we can get all of the action!” He said, happily talking to the camera while he flipped a coin into the air, catching it after her finished talking. He then pulled out an envelope, stating, “Here in this envelope, I have predicted the winner of this year's Hunger Games and I will reveal it after the winner is announced.”

“Oh, it's starting! Let's watch together, shall we?” He quickly said, allowing the camera to go off of him and transfer to the cameras in the arena.

Coriolanus had one and only one thought when he heard that bell ring.

May the 10th Annual Hunger Games begin.

RING!

Run.

Next Chapter

#dark!coriolanus snow #yandere coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x reader

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parkitaco · 1 year

Text

Mike has always been the sort of person who likes lazy birthdays. When he was younger, he rarely got them - his mother always had something planned, some party or event or special breakfast or something. Which- okay, is super nice of her when he thinks about it, and he probably shouldn’t be complaining, but- Mike needs his sleep, okay? It’s stressful enough to deal with becoming one whole year older. Being awoken at seven a.m. by an overly excited and well-meaning parent, plus his sisters if they were in the mood, was never a great way to start off a day like that.

And he’d assumed, now that he’s in college, he’d be mercifully free of the cursory birthday celebrations. Not that he doesn’t like his birthday, or celebrations, or having fun or anything like that, because saying he doesn’t like those things makes him sound like a cartoon villain or something, but- Wheeler birthdays are a lot. He’s never been good at them.

So, on the morning of Mike’s nineteenth birthday, he’s expecting to have a nice, languid morning, sleeping in until at least noon before making himself the only breakfast he knows how to make - slightly charred scrambled eggs and toast - and watching TV, or something. He knows the Party is supposed to come over later, because his roommate and best friend is a terrible secret keeper and Mike had found the plans for his surprise party on his desk weeks ago now (which, okay, he might have been snooping a little, but whatever). But that’s not until seven p.m., so his plans for the day had mainly consisted of television, junk food, and maybe going to go bother Will. If he’s in the mood.

That is not what happens.

Instead, he’s awakened at approximately nine in the morning by his door flying open so violently that it hits the wall and bounces back. Light pours into the room from the hallway, shining directly into Mike’s eyes, and he stirs with a groan, rubbing his eyes and wincing.

“Happy birthday,” Will says, pleased with himself as he stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips, as though he has not entirely disrupted Mike’s beauty rest - or, rather, that he knows he has, and isn’t at all sorry about it. “Wake up, old man.”

“Go away,” Mike groans, slumping back against his pillows and throwing an arm over his eyes. “I want to sleep.”

Will huffs, unimpressed, and Mike’s vaguely aware of his feet pattering across the floor before the mattress creaks and dips, and suddenly Will is right there, and Mike can feel his presence hovering over him even as he steadfastly refuses to open his eyes. “You’re not going to thank me?” Will questions, warm and teasing and right in Mike’s ear, and Mike dares to peek over the sleeve of his sweatshirt just enough to see Will, who is, sure enough, hovering right in Mike’s face. His hands are planted on either side of Mike’s head, a smirk plastered on his dumb, smug face, and- listen, Mike’s not necessarily pleased about being woken up this way, but if Will stays this close to him, he could probably get on board.

“Why would I thank you,” he grumbles anyway, removing his arm from his face so as to glare at Will properly. “You’re being a nuisance.”

Will rolls his eyes, which is probably fair, because he has never and will never be anything but a glowing, entirely positive presence in Mike’s life and they both know it, but- principles. “I said happy birthday,” he points out, “and you didn’t thank me.”

“Well, you also called me an old man, so I’d say we’re even,” Mike mutters, and evidently Will is satisfied by this response, because he sits back on his heels, grinning like an idiot and patting Mike’s chest gently.

Mike might not be fully awake yet, but he’s pretty sure that Will shouldn’t move so far away, and that preferably he’d come back and get in Mike’s face like that again. He just barely resists the urge to grab Will’s wrist and tug him back in, fingers twitching where they rest over the duvet as he tries not to think about how the only other thing nicer than going back to sleep right now was if Will stayed here and slept beside him.

Okay, so Mike is definitely not fully awake yet.

“You should get up,” Will is saying, and he’s still stupidly far away but he hasn’t moved farther, either, seemingly content to sit halfway on top of Mike like this while Mike curls further under the covers. He’s already dressed, Mike notices, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for some band Mike’s never heard of, and he has Mike’s sweatshirt thrown over, some blue, oversized thing that he stole from Mike a couple weeks ago and Mike still hasn’t gotten the courage to confront him about. Mostly because he’s afraid Will might stop wearing it, if he asked about it.

“I want to sleep,” Mike reiterates, yanking his blanket over his head so that he’s forced to stop looking at the stupid sweatshirt, and Will immediately yanks the blanket back, peering over the edge and smirking down at him. “Go away. I hate you.”

These entirely false statements only serve to egg Will on, if the delighted look on his face is any indication. “No you don’t,” he says evenly, and he’s a little bit infuriating with it, sometimes, with this weird push-and-pull thing they’ve had going on since sometime around their junior year of high school. It’s one thing when Will is teasing with it, the maybe-flirting, because then Mike can at least pretend it’s a joke, but when he says things like this - no you don’t - so plainly, like it’s a fact, it has a tendency to make Mike feel a little bit too exposed. The closet’s made of glass, or whatever it was Will had said to him when they came out to each other a million years ago.

Today, Mike opts not to react to it, because it is his birthday, and therefore he deserves a little leniency - though, not from Will, apparently. “Go away,” he says again, and still means the opposite.

Will smiles, tapping a fingertip against his nose and letting it linger there a beat longer than strictly necessary. “Come on,” he says quietly, like he means it this time, “I got you breakfast.”

At this, Mike’s whole train of thought - which had mostly been centered around Will’s finger pressed to his face and what it might feel like to lean into that touch - grinds to a screeching halt. “You- what?” he asks, frowning, and Will’s smile widens.

“Breakfast,” he repeats, and there’s another creaking of springs as he launches himself off the bed and heads for the door, pausing to quirk an eyebrow at Mike as he sits up, still frowning in confusion. “Come on, Mike, God. Have to wait on you for everything.”

Mike scowls, kicking the covers off and padding after Will into the kitchen where, sure enough, there are two plates set out with breakfast burritos from Mike’s favorite café, plus two mugs - coffee for Will, tea for Mike - neatly lined up beside them at the table.

It’s- a lot. Mike’s still not really awake.

“Will,” he says, still frowning as Will gestures for him to sit down and grabs two paper napkins from the roll on the counter, “What is this?”

Will pauses where he’s placing the napkins in front of them, giving him a mildly incredulous look. “I told you,” he huffs, “Breakfast.”

“I- no, I get that,” Mike says, staring at his burrito like it’s somehow dangerous as he sits down at the table, “But- um. Why?”

“Jesus Christ, Michael,” Will says, no bite to it, as he sits down across from him, “It’s your birthday, remember?”

Mike takes a sip of tea, hoping the caffeine will jump-start his system a little. No dice. He does note, however, that Will’s made the tea exactly how he likes it - English Breakfast, with oat milk and an ungodly amount of honey.

“I remember,” he says slowly, watching Will take a bite of his own burrito, “I just. Sorry, nevermind.”

It’s not like it’s that special, he tells himself, because he and Will have breakfast together all the time, whenever they both have mornings off from classes and work and whatever else. And it’s not like walking the two blocks to the cafe to buy him breakfast is even that much of a feat - a very large part of the reason Mike loves the restaurant so much is because it’s cheap and close to their apartment. And- it’s good. Good food. But still, it’s not like Will has gone that much out of his way or anything, and it’s not like Mike’s never been awoken to a special birthday breakfast before, but it’s- it’s just different, now. He’s an adult, and his birthday breakfasts up until this point had been entirely provided by his mother, which is nice and all, but it had all felt very cursory. He’d kind of expected to fend for himself a little this year, now that he’s independent and adult or whatever, had expected to dictate his day and spend it mostly alone, doing whatever he felt like.

So it’s just nice, he supposes. That someone else notices, besides himself.

Will arches an eyebrow at him, chewing slowly as he watches the gears in Mike’s head turn. “You okay?” he asks around a mouthful of burrito, which should be gross but is more endearing than anything else.

Mike nods, a small smile tugging at his lips as he takes a bite of his food - the food that Will went out and got for him, just because - and kicks his foot gently against Will’s ankle under the table.

Will watches him for another few seconds, bemused and endeared, before humming and returning to his breakfast. They eat in relative silence, Mike still sipping at his tea and trying to cajole his brain into a slightly less mushy, lovesick state. He’s going to embarrass himself very quickly, if he’s not careful, which isn’t to say that he doesn’t constantly embarrass himself in front of Will, but. Principles.

When they’re done eating, Will clears Mike’s plate and mug before Mike can ask him to or make a move to do it himself, dumping them both in the sink and turning to face Mike, a small smile on his face. “What’s on the agenda today, old man?” he asks, and Mike is awake enough now that the old man comment makes him scowl a little.

“You’re older than me,” he says, just to be petty, and Will lifts a shoulder in a shrug, unperturbed, “And- I mean, I was planning on still being asleep right about now, so you tell me.”

Will fixes him with an unimpressed look, walking back over to the table where he’s sitting and leaning against the edge, and he’s- he’s doing it again, the getting-in-Mike’s-space thing, and it’s scrambling Mike’s brain. “I let you sleep until nine,” he points out calmly, which is true and fair, except that that’s only two hours later than Mike would sleep on a school day, and one of the great benefits to his first birthday as a functioning, real adult is that it happens to fall on a Saturday, and Mike’s made it his personal mission since he was fifteen to never bear witness to anything that happens on a Saturday before noon unless strictly necessary, so.

It’s kind of ridiculous how many of his principles he’ll compromise for Will, without Will even having to ask.

“You’re an evil dictator,” he tells Will, whose face splits into a wide smile, which, of course, was exactly what Mike was hoping would happen. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

“You love me,” Will says, and brushes past him into the living room, grabbing the TV remote off the coffee table and settling himself onto the couch. Mike watches him a little dazedly, still standing dumbly in the kitchen area and wondering what response could he possibly have to that statement that’s not entirely incriminating.

When he doesn’t immediately follow him to the couch, Will arches an eyebrow, glancing over at him with the remote lifted halfway into the air. “I assume you wanted to spend all day watching your dumb sitcoms,” he says, and Mike can see that he’s already got an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine pulled up, and half-considers protesting that it’s not dumb, and that it’s not his fault that Will’s taste in media consists entirely of thriller movies, “But we don’t have to.”

We, Mike thinks, a little deliriously, and jerks his head in a maybe-nod that Will smirks at. He takes up the seat beside Will on the couch, feeling a little dizzy and overwhelmed and kind of like his entire body is out of sync. Which is sort of annoying, because he’d thought by now he’d have grown into himself a little, but he’s a year older and he’s still clunky and awkward and stupidly in love with Will Byers, and it doesn’t look like any of those things are going to change anytime soon.

Well. There’s only so much a guy can do.

Will leans into his side, and Mike decides it’s going to be a good birthday after all.

---

“I can’t believe we’re celebrating your dumb birthday twice,” Max informs Mike later that evening, after the obligatory surprise reveal of the party they all knew Mike already knew about, while they all sit on the floor of the living room and pass around a cake box. Will and Mike never really got around to buying enough dishware for more than two people, so they’re passing the box back and forth with a singular fork, which at least one of the Party members would probably be protesting if not for the presence of the (slightly illegal) bottle of wine that Lucas had brought.

“It’s not my fault,” Mike tells Max, snatching the fork out of her hand and stealing a bite of cake - his cake, thank you very much- “I didn’t plan the surprise party.”

Max rolls her eyes. “I know that,” she says, like he’s the one being difficult, “But we celebrated your in-between birthday with Will literally last week, so I kind of figured we were done, but then he called us all and begged us to stay in New York for a few extra days so we could do this too.”

In all his snooping about the surprise party, Mike had failed to discover that detail. He glances at Will, eyes wide, and Will coughs, blushing a little and glancing away. “You were gonna spend your whole birthday sitting at home watching TV by yourself,” he says, which Mike had never strictly told him, but he supposes it makes sense that Will would know anyway, “That’s super depressing. I had to at least make sure you weren’t alone for it.”

You care about me, Mike thinks gleefully but doesn’t say aloud, instead opting for the coward’s way out; “What if I wanted to watch TV by myself all day?”

“You didn’t,” Will says plainly, and Mike falters where he’s halfway toward initiating a fake-argument. “You thought you did, but you didn’t.”

Max’s eyebrows lift halfway toward her hairline, and she lets out a low whistle. “That’s presumptuous,” she mutters, and El whacks her shoulder, reproachful.

“I think it’s sweet, Will,” she says, and Mike’s too dumbfounded, too shaken by Will’s painfully accurate reading of him, to be as delighted as usual by the smattering of pink that appears across the bridge of Will’s nose at the words.

“Yeah, I don’t know why we’re complaining,” Dustin agrees, snatching the cake box right out of Mike’s hands, which is maybe a blessing in disguise because his whole body has kind of gone slack as he stares at Will, and he’d been seconds away from dropping it anyway, “This means we get two cakes. And twice the booze.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” Lucas says, and Dustin rolls his eyes at him.

They launch into an argument, and Will glances up, shyer than usual as he meets Mike’s eyes. You care about me, Mike thinks again, a little more reverently this time, and Will smiles softly at him, and it feels like an of course I do.

But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Will’s foot nudges Mike’s knee, just firmly enough for Mike to know it’s not an accident, and Mike offers him a smile of his own, fully aware that he’s probably blushing the same shade as Max’s hair. He glances away, clearing his throat and joining whatever conversation the rest of the Party has dissolved into, but he can feel Will’s smile down to his bones for the rest of the night anyway.

---

“You care about me,” Mike says aloud, the second the door closes behind El, after the wine bottle has been entirely decimated and the cake is long gone and he and Will are alone in the apartment again.

Will glances up from where he’s shoving the now-empty cake box into their slightly-overflowing trash can, a small smirk on his face. “Excellent observation skills, Mike,” he says wryly, straightening up and wiping his palms on his jeans. He’s still wearing Mike’s hoodie. Mike, suddenly, wants to confront him about it after all.

“You really planned all that for me?” he asks, stepping into the kitchen and leaning against the counter as he watches Will wipe down the granite surface with a wet rag.

“Did you or did you not go snooping through my room for my notes about it?” Will asks, not looking up from where he’s scrubbing at a sticky spot on the counter, and Mike flushes a little. He’d known Will knew, of course, because Will rarely keeps secrets from him, and they’re rarely of such a trivial variety, but it’s just slightly embarrassing to be called out on it so bluntly.

“Your fault for not using the notes app like a normal person,” Mike replies, and then, before Will can launch into his standard rant about needing to feel the pen in his hand, or whatever, which doesn’t make sense in any way whatsoever, and Mike should know, being the writer-person out of the two of them- “I- thank you.”

At this, Will pauses, the rag falling slack in his hand as he glances up at Mike, faintly surprised. “What, for the party?”

Mike swallows. “Yeah,” he manages, through the fog that tends to cloud his brain when Will looks at him like that - so open and honest and sincere, like Mike matters- “And for the rest of it, too, because I didn’t say it when you woke me up this morning but that was really nice too, and it’s nice when you sit and watch my dumb sitcoms with me and when you drive me to class on mornings when you’re free, and I just- it’s just, like.”

Will lifts an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Maybe Mike’s not a writer-person after all. “I just,” he tries again, mildly frustrated with himself, and a little bit with Will too, because how is he supposed to focus on words when Will’s looking at him like that and moving closer, edging along the counter toward him, “I guess I’m just saying thanks for, uh. Being here. In my life.”

He winces. That’s terribly corny, he’s sure, and also probably very incriminating, and he still doesn’t have the capacity to process it because Will’s still moving closer, coming to stand in front of Mike and smiling expectantly up at him.

Will opens his mouth to speak, but before he can Mike blurts; “You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”

Will falters a little, glancing down and nodding when he sees his hands, covered by the too-big fabric of Mike’s hoodie, like he hadn’t noticed. You’re full of shit, Mike thinks, and is more endeared by the feigned innocence than he has any right to be. “So I am,” Will agrees, glancing up and meeting his eyes again. “Is that a problem?”

Mike shakes his head quickly, not wanting Will to be, like, offended or something, and then immediately realizes that Will is still messing with him, a little, and scowls. “No,” he says anyway, just in case, “But- you’re so annoying, did you know that?”

“You love me,” Will says, in that same infuriatingly calm tone, and this time Mike doesn’t want to brush it off.

He meets Will’s eyes directly, swallows, and despite the fact that his heart rate is currently averaging about 150 beats per minute his voice is calm and low and serious when he responds, “Yeah.”

Will blinks. “Oh.”

Mike is the one smirking now, feeling a little giddy and dizzy but put at ease by the slip in Will’s poker face. “You didn’t know that?”

“I don’t,” Will starts, and then seems to lose his nerve, falling silent and shaking his head, and Mike’s not sure if he means that he doesn’t have a response, or that he didn’t know, or something else that Mike’s not yet aware of.

They’re standing awfully close together. Mike swallows. “How did you know?”

Will frowns. “That you love me?”

“No,” Mike says, though it sends a little bit of a thrill through his stomach, hearing it said aloud like that, “About- that I didn’t want to be alone, today.”

“Oh,” Will says, and his face splits into an easy smile, shoulders relaxing a little. “Oh, I just- that’s just because I know you, dummy. You think you’re this loner type who wants to be left alone and have chill birthdays and be all detached and whatever, but you’re secretly still just the same kid that likes presents and parties and cake and- and being with the people you love, so.”

Mike swallows hard, caught between hysterical laughter and breaking into sobs, and already halfway toward kissing Will in his stupid perfect face. “You know,” he manages, through the lump in his throat, “If I were anyone else you’d sound so condescending right now.”

Will’s expression does not change. “Good thing you’re you, then,” he says quietly, and there’s barely any space between them now. If Mike tilted his face up just a little-

-their noses would brush, and he would see Will’s eyes flutter shut, maybe, and then-

“Mike,” Will says, sounding mildly embarrassed, and his voice cuts through Mike’s hazy, lovesick thoughts, “If you want to kiss me, can you please just do it already?”

Mike’s eyes fly open - they’d been half-shut, he now realizes - and he releases a garbled sort of sound of confusion. “What-”

“Mike,” Will says again, and there’s an urgency to it that makes something swoop in Mike’s stomach.

And- well, he can’t really argue when Will says his name like that, can he?

“Okay,” he whispers, and catches Will in a kiss.

Will tastes like frosting and cheap wine, and he’s warm, soft and pliant under Mike’s hands as he reaches up to cup his face in his hands. It feels- cozy, almost, melting into Will, letting him wrap his arms around Mike’s waist and pull him in closer. It feels like sitcom marathons and warm laughter and the gentle weight of Will hovering over him this morning. It feels comfortable, and safe, and like everything Mike never thought he’d be lucky enough to have, so he can’t be blamed for it, really, when he presses in closer, pulling Will against him and tangling a hand in his hair.

“Mike,” Will sighs against his mouth, and it sounds entirely different this time, different from any way he’s ever said his name before. Like it slipped out of his mouth unbidden, a thought voiced into existence entirely by accident. It sends a shiver down Mike’s spine, and he places a hand over Will’s waist, tucked under the fabric of his sweatshirt - Mike’s sweatshirt - and pulls him in, leaning back against the counter and relishing the gentle caress of Will’s hands against his sides, trailing over his ribcage.

He pulls back, if only to see the pink glow slowly overtaking Will’s face, the flutter of his eyelids as he blinks at Mike, mouth twisting into a pout at being interrupted. It’s a beautiful sight, leaving Will so flustered and sweet under his palms, and Mike drinks it in, a giddy smile stretching across his features.

Will whines faintly, tugging at the collar of his shirt until Mike’s lips meet his own again, a gentle press that still manages to send a shudder through Mike’s body. The counter is digging into his back, and it’s uncomfortable if he really thinks about it, but it’s sort of hard to think about anything but Will as he holds him close, runs his hands over Will’s arms, threads his fingers through his hair, traces his tongue over Will’s lower lip.

When they finally part, it’s only by a few centimeters, Will pressing his forehead gently against Mike’s.

“Stay?” Mike asks quietly, even though Will’s made no move to go anywhere else, and it’s not like he’d go far anyway, but he doesn’t know how else to communicate the deep-set feeling in his gut telling him to keep Will close. Like if Will moves away, even if it’s just to stumble off to his room to go to sleep, it will be too much distance.

Will’s mouth ticks upward, and he darts forward to press a quick kiss to the corner of Mike’s lips. “‘Course,” he murmurs, like it’s not a totally nonsensical request, and Mike wonders how it is that Will always knows everything there is to know about him. But then he adds, “Idiot,” and Mike remembers that Will is also just super annoying, all the time, so it all evens out in the end.

“You love me,” he murmurs, and it feels like more of a confession than a confirmation. He’s never said it like that before, even though he knows it’s true. He’s never felt confident or brave enough, but he feels like now, in this quiet little world that exists in the space between his and Will’s lips, he doesn’t need confidence or bravery to know things that are true.

Will smiles. “Yeah,” he confirms, and his hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Yeah, ‘course I do. Happy birthday, Mike.”

Happy birthday indeed, Mike thinks, and catches Will in another kiss.

#happy (late) bday to the boy <33 #i know i just wrote a ton of bday content in my fake dating fic but yk what. we need more of it in our lives ok #desperately wanted to get this out while it was still his bday but alas #:((#anyway #byler fic #mike wheeler #will byers #st fic #ok bye goodnight #byler ficlet

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