for all_at_sea : if I had a heart

[whisted]

Jack Simpson is enjoying this.

That, more than anything, is what has Horatio Hornblower feeling so painfully trapped. There had been a terrible sinking in his gut when his own name had been called during the reaping. There had been a heavy weight that lingered even after his mother's hand was dragged from his shoulder and his father's voice had vanished from his ears. For all that had ripped something from him, the odd inevitable hadn't been so terrible. A piece of him, even now, thinks he could manage to have properly accepted it.

But then, through the haze, had come the harrowing sound of Simpson's name. That had been far too much far too fast. That had been the worst sort of death warrant; the immediate shifting of hope toward dying at the hands of anyone but his District's other tribute.

None of the rest of it had helped, of course. Being dragged far from home was excruciating. Being poked and prodded and needled and explained to, by tense displeased voices, that he somehow didn't even stand and wear his clothes correctly was torturous. Even the odd comfort of being handed into the care of his mentor was undercut by the horrific fact of Simpson standing nearly constantly beside him, practically preening with a nauseating sort of pride.

In defense of the prep team, of course, Horatio apparently doesn't know how to stand properly. It doesn't matter that his fingers grip tight to the chariot, or that all he properly has to do in the Tribute Parade is actually stand still with the faintest bit of a smile. It's just a blessing, Pellew is certainly sighing to himself, that the Capitol seems to find a tribute managing to fall off the back of a chariot faintly endearing.

(Simpson will make his life hell for it later. Thankfully, Horatio doesn't anticipate having that much more life to have to suffer through.)

It will be better, he tells himself, when they can be separated in the Training Center. It will almost be enjoyable, perhaps, to have these few days of being able to make some small amount of space for himself before Jack Simpson thoroughly enjoys killing him.

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[all_at_sea]

For one so small and slight, it's impressive that Horatio manages to tug James with him. Or maybe the pair's balance is centred on him, and James has no choice but to move. Either way, he does, pressing Horatio back into the wall, bumping up against him. The sudden sharp movement, hip against hip, feels wonderful, heady and hot.

James doesn't even mind the bite. It hurts, makes his breath come out as a gasp, his fingers closing tight on Horatio's ass in reaction. Perhaps it is a moment of confusion, perhaps he should step back and catch his breath. But even as he thinks it, the kiss starts again, even more heated than before, moving down from Horatio's pink mouth to the pale expanse of his throat.

How much time do they have? Not long, not nearly long enough to find any sort of satisfaction in this, to find any blissful conclusion. And yet he doesn't want to stop, not while there is more chance to caress Horatio's skin, to bring his hand down from Horatio's flushed cheek down his chest, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

[whisted]

James is moving with him. James is grabbing his ass and kissing his throat. James is pressing close so their bodies move together, wonderful and warm and sending sparks flying up his spine as Horatio gasps softly for air.

His hand leaves the wall to tangle in James's hair. For a moment, all he can do is cling, body squirming to be somehow closer to the other young man's, a whimper catching in his throat.

They'll be caught, a piece of him know. They'll be found like this and dragged apart--or, worse, recorded exactly as they are. For all they've played to the cameras, for all they've blustered with the word 'love' in the last half hour, this moment should stay exactly as it is.

This moment feels real.

His fingers tremble as they move from James's shoulder. They grope downward blindly, feeling for purchase beneath the other Tribute's jacket as his eyes squeeze shut.

[all_at_sea]

They should be sensible. They should be sensible and stop. They should at least panic and pull away, frightened of discovery. But none of that happens. If anything, they get worse.

Horatio's hand moves between James' shirt and his jacket and it's all James can do to shift and remove his hands for a second, enough to tug the jacket from his shoulders. Once it's dropped on the floor and forgotten, his hands both go to Horatio's backside, dragging the young man's hips forward.

As his lips leave a trail of pink marks against Horatio's throat, the other boy's soft noises fill hid ears.

That's why he doesn't hear the footsteps heading towards their dressing room.

[whisted]

For a heartbeat, the world is cold and terrible as James's hands pull away. It pulls the breath from his lungs to be left without the warm touch--and then keep him breathless when he forces his eyes open to see James pulling his jacket off.

They shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't be getting distracted by this. Despite that, Horatio is fairly certain they would both fall to pieces if they weren't allowed even this much of a pleasant memory.

"J-James--"

His fingers claw to free the tails of the other boy's shirt, to get his fingers properly on the taller Tribute's lithe form. His neck arches to give James's lips more room, hips bucking sharply as he follows the motion of James's grip. His own lips fumble to press frantic kisses against the other Tribute's temple, ear, hair; whatever he can reach.

[all_at_sea]

They might both be mad. James certainly isn't thinking clearly, not when Horatio's hot breath ghosts over his eat and then his lips follow, the desperate tremble that follows is almost sublime. He can't be blamed for focusing only on Horatio, on the way their hips grind together.

Cutler rolls his eyes. Even before the door opens he can hear the soft deep breathing abd the muffled groans. If the two idiots think they're subtle, they're in more trouble than they think.

"I pray you're both still dressed," Cutler crawls as he steps into the room. There's nothing more satisfying than watching the pair of them pull apart, frustration and embarrassment evident on their faces.

"Oh my, what have I interrupted? A last hurrah?"

[whisted]

Of course they're interrupted. Of course they aren't allowed to have more than a few heartbeats of feeling completely distracted from the hell their lives have become.

Horatio's ears and cheeks and neck are all flushed a painfully bright red as he pushes at James, breath gasping unhappily from his throat as he presses the heels of his palms against both his eyes. There's another sob in his chest, this one much more unhappy and pained than the throaty noises of moments before.

"--fuck."

He should go. He should be anywhere but here. He should find Pellew and let himself forget the last few minutes in the panic last-minute advice will inspire.

He hates the idea of being apart from James.

[all_at_sea]

James feels all the blood in him freeze as Horatio pushes him away. Cutler he can deal with, Cutler he could punch. Horatio, he wants to pull close. To protect, to hide away from Cutler and Simpson and all of their ilk. But he can't do that if Horatio pushes him away.

He can only feel hurt when that happens.

But he does manage to step between them, shielding Horatio from the other boy from District 1. He knows Horatio would probably prefer to run, to get away, but Cutler is blocking the only route out. Purposefully so, if James is any judge.

He's fighting hard against the desire just to lash out, but there isn't long to wait till the arena. There's no reason in giving in and letting Cutler get what he wants.

"I had you pegged as an unscrupulous bastard Cutler, but not a voyeur. I suppose I will add it to the list."

He steps forwards, into Cutler's personal space. He's the taller of the pair of them, and he tries to use that force Cutler away, out of the room. But the other boy does not budge.

"Lady Barbara will be most disappointed, James. She's been telling everyone how you're the perfect gentleman. I'm sure you're adoring public would be very distressed to find out you only want one thing. Still, you can't blame the little slug for letting you. As long as he's useful to you, you'll let him live."

He glances beyond James, at the boy behind him, looking him over again with no small amount of distaste.

"Just be careful what you do with him. Simpson has told me some very unpleasant stories. He really does have a very amusing colloquial way of phrasing these things."

[whisted]

Horatio wants very badly to run. Every instinct he has tells him to bolt, to get away, to avoid as best as he can the menace in the doorway. He's spent so much of his life running in moments like this. He's spent so much of this last week learning to make enough space from an attacker so that he could flee. This is exactly the sort of thing he should be staying clear of and letting James handle.

It's just that it grates under his skin to see someone spitting vitriol in the face of a man as good and kind and wonderful as James. It's just that, for the first time in his life, he can't stand to let Simpson stain at least this tiny piece of himself.

James doesn't need protecting. James also doesn't need anyone to cause a scene. Neither of them need to kick up a fuss when they're so close to being thrown into the arena. Somehow, that doesn't stop Horatio from moving.

It's just too much.

Horatio has always been quick. He's quick now, stepping around James to insert himself in what minimal space exists between the Tributes from District 1. Hopefully the surprise that he's moved at all will give him the heartbeat of time he needs to bring a knee up hard between Beckett's legs.

[all_at_sea]

Cutler seems surprised, momentarily, that Horatio moves. Maybe he thinks he's running away- but when it becomes clear that Horatio is putting himself between the two older boys, Cutler's lips pull into a thin, sadistic smile. It's cruel and devilish, and it's clear he's lining up a biting comment.

James doesn't need protecting. He wishes that Horatio would let him deal with this, let him lay a heavy punch on Cutler and be done with it until tomorrow. But Horatio is already there, a small and bristling creature. James wants to tell him he doesn't have to, but they need to show a united front. Not just to the rest of Panem, but to Cutler and every other Tribute that they will come up against. James just has no idea what Horatio plans to do without a weapon. They've not covered what to do if you don't have a weapon with you, and James regrets that now, his eyes closing. If they'd had more time...

And then there's a grunt.

Cutler's eyes widen as Horatio's knee connects, folding up with unexpected pain, a whimper leaving his throat. James watches, a little surprised himself, but the pride he felt before comes back redoubled.

"I think that sums up what we have to say on the matter?" He asks Horatio, reaching out for his hand and trying not to sound too pleased. The grin on his face makes it obvious even so, and he glances down at Cutler.

"We should probably leave him here. He can get up when he feels better."

[whisted]

Well. That's satisfying.

Somewhere in the distance, Horatio is certain he hears Pellew's voice. Worse, he's suspicious that the softer tones he can't quite discern must be Barbara's. None of that stops him from catching briefly at James's hand as his breath comes slow and careful.

It isn't the same as hitting back at Simpson. It's still a satisfying start.

"Hm."

They'll be caught up into their own worlds again in a minute. They'll be trapped in personal hells before they're thrown into a shared one. Horatio doesn't bother stopping the impulse to tug James's fingers to his lips and press a careful kiss to the taller boy's knuckles.

[all_at_sea]

James' cheeks are slightly pink, still flushed with heat but also with something softer, his heart thudding a gentle tempo in his chest when Horatio's lips brush across his skin.

He really is in love. There's no point not admitting that much to himself.

Pellew and Barbara are around the corner, but at least he and Horatio can head down the corridor holding hands, and put some more distance between them and Cutler's whimpering form.

In the few seconds they have, as they walk down the corridor, James lowers his voice. "It'll be alright, Horatio. We have a plan, we can stick to it. We will find each other in there. We will look after each other. I will get you out of there."

Hopefully, they will both get out of there. But that involves relying on others. James can do that, although he'd prefer to rely on Horatio, who is with him, who he can speak to. Barbara is smart and capable, but she's also cool and distant and James isn't so certain he can trust her to bring both of them out. At least Pellew and Matthews would go to the ends of the earth for Horatio. That reassures him.