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.

Comments

[whisted]

Simpson needed to be seen to. He snarls and spits once he's got his wits about him, but even he understands he needs to be seen to. It's a relief to be able to deposit him with Matthews, whose own surly half-intoxication sits well with barking the tribute into sitting still and being patched up.

That gives Pellew the chance to pull Horatio aside. That gives Horatio the faintest glimmer of hope, for the first time in over a year.

It would take more than a week, after all, to learn to move the way James moved. It would take more than a week to feel half as comfortable with a weapon in his hand as James looked. And it would take more than a week for James to sort out how to find food, how to twine snares, how to sort between plants for poison.

Even if it didn't last, it would be nice to feel even half-way safe before he died.

Oddly enough, Horatio doesn't feel entirely safe as he drifts through the glittering crowd at the Palace. It's better now he's separated from Simpson again, admittedly, but there's a different sort of danger in the air. For all his eyes are good at catching hints of snares in the brush, he can't quite sort out what's lingering behind the smiles plastered everywhere here.

Part of it is the suit. Horatio had barely seen a suit before, let alone been shoved into one. He takes comfort, at least, in the fact his prep team had relented away from anything flashier than the warm grain colour of the fabric, dotted lightly here and there with darker flecks like seeds dotting the familiar crescents of bread from home. That keeps him nearly smiling as he tries to breathe through the conversations he doesn't quite understand, the chatter of people who somehow think he belongs among them despite being from what feels like a different world entirely.

Pellew is too far away to sneak into the shadow of--and besides, his mentor would certainly shoo him back into the arms of the public. Simpson is hardly an ally to slip up beside in the hopes of deflecting some attention.

It's the flash of gold (a cuff link, he thinks, from the sweep of a hand) that gets his eyes to James. It's the flash of relief in his gut (a chance to learn this, or at least dim his own star next to a proper one) that has him excusing himself from the woman clinging to his arm to appear beside the older Tribute.

His fingers are lighter now than they had been in the Training Center, simply glancing at the other boy's elbow as he sets himself nervously into place beside James.

[all_at_sea]

James feels the gentle pressure against his sleeve and glances that way- sure it is the hand of another overzealous would-be patron. But the fact it is Horatio, Horatio in a well-tailored suit that makes his pale skin appear a far healthier hue than the horrible dark clothes designed for the training room. James even manages a smile, strictly for Horatio, and then when the Capitol citizens seem to hesitate, a natural pause in the conversation, James at least manages to introduce him.

Although perhaps saying my very good friend, Horatio Hornblower was a little premature. Still, it seems to charm the people in front of him, enough for more glasses of overly sweet bubbly liquid to be brought round. James takes a glass out of politeness, although he makes no move to drink it. As covertly as he can, his free hand touches Horatio's back, just below his shoulders. It might be fine, but he doesn't like the way hungry eyes watch them, and he doesn't want to wake up tomorrow with no memory of what happened this evening, he doesn't want to take his eyes off Horatio or be separated from him.

If he's truthful, he doesn't much want to spend this evening stood around with these people, not even if Horatio next to him makes him feel less alone. He'd much rather be somewhere quiet with the other Tribute. The conversation happening around him is already little more than white noise.

"You'll have to excuse us, ladies and gentlemen. There's someone I want Horatio to meet..."

There isn't. But it will do, it gets them away and James lets his hand slip from Horatio's back, gentle curling their fingers together so he can lead him away. There are a thousand rooms in the palace, and while most of them are locked up, it doesn't take too long to find a little antechamber, where the buzz of music and talking is muffled. The lights aren't so bright and it feels... safe. As safe as they can be anywhere, he supposes.

That means he can breathe, and can offer Horatio a small smile. "I was beginning to worry that I was trapped here alone. Did Sir Pellew tell you about this plan they've contrived?"

[whisted]

The smile cast his way by a friendly face is entirely reassuring. The affectionate introduction is oddly overwhelming. Horatio can feel pink flushing into his cheeks, brightened further by the obvious amusement the words seem to give the people around them. His fingers tremble just slightly as he takes the glass thrust into his hand, only allowing him the tiniest sip before he's half-certain he's going to spill.

Then there's James's hand resting lightly against his spine, and the flush in his cheeks begins moving toward a deeper crimson.

Thankfully, James seems fairly capable of handling small talk for both of them. Horatio can manage calmer breathing and something closer to a smile for the next few moments of conversation.

His cheeks are still pink as James directs them away. They stay pink as the hand on his back slips down into his own grip. They darken again as his own fingers catch tighter, keeping him close as they move quietly through the crowd.

For a heartbeat, he thinks he catches sight of James's mentor watching them from the other side of the room. For another, he notices Pellew studying them thoughtfully through the crowd. Before they turn off into the quiet little room, he's certain his eyes meet with Matthews's, which look much sharper and more sober than he's ever seen them.

That, as much as anything else, has Horatio's cheeks paling again as he quietly plucks his hand back. "He did. Do-- you mind it?"

[all_at_sea]

Lady Barbara and Sir Pellew and old Matthews can watch them as much or as little as they like. They aren't threats, and right now everyone else in the vicinity is. James pays them no mind.

Horatio's cheeks are a much softer pink now, hardly flushed at all, but just with that slight rosiness to them that betrays the blushes of the past few minutes. James tries not to stare at them, but forces himself to flash another grin, and not think about the heat of Horatio's hand in his.

"I... I think it's a good idea." He says. He was going to say he had no problems with it, but that wasn't true. He might have fought to keep a neutral expression with Lady Barbara, but he doesn't with Horatio. This could, after all, be the most stupid idea ever. It might lead to his death, to both their deaths, but somehow... that doesn't much matter. If he must die, then he should die with a friend than surrounded by enemies.

And he'd much rather it be Horatio than Cutler.

"But I want to know... do you actually know how to use an axe?"

It's not important, not really, but he can't help but tease a little, and he can't help the smile that pulls at his lips.

[whisted]

It helps, of course, to hear that the Career thinks it's a good idea. It helps to know that the person who'll benefit demonstrably less still thinks there's merit to giving it a go.

It's just that it also helps infinitely that James is grinning. It helps even more that James is teasing, understated and gentle. It helps to think that, for as long as he'll actually struggle through the Games (and he's not certain it will be long, even with this tall and formidable guardian), it will be with someone who has at least a lick of sense when it comes to treating others like human beings.

Relief breaks through him like a waves, a strangled noise like a laugh caught back from his lips as he ducks his head. The flush in his cheeks is faintly more embarrassed now.

"Hatchets. Not-- to hurt anyone. To notch trees and all that. But not-- not axes like that." His lips press together fretfully as he glances up again. "Is that-- all right?"

[all_at_sea]

There's something to that laugh, to the way Horatio ducks his head that makes James' heart thumb a little quicker. He's not sure what it is, maybe it's the air in this place, making him think odd thoughts, making his emotions and feelings do things they wouldn't normally.

Maybe it's just Horatio.

For a second, when Horatio looks up again, cheeks even more pink, James isn't sure what to say. He clears his throat, glancing away. What is wrong with him? He should be able to speak to someone without his throat going dry and his attention wandering to Horatio's hands or his lips or his cheeks.

"Is it alright that I can't tell a pit-trap from a snare?" He replies, "I'm sure we can pick up a little bit from each other. We'll have to work together." He would teach Horatio some basics, how to defend himself, because despite his own skill, Horatio had to have some way of defending himself, or knowing what side of a knife was the sharp one.

Just in case.

"I don't know how long we can hide here. 'Lady Barbara is expecting me to be there when the dancing starts."

Dancing is something he can do, at least. He's not the best, but he knows steps and he can keep a rhythm. It was part of training, it helped teach poise and balance and timing. Which probably means Horatio has no idea at all about it.

James can feel himself biting his lower lip, and he stops immediately. He is not going to descend into indecisiveness.

"I can show you a dance or two, if you'd like?"

[whisted]

Nothing is reassuring seeing someone stunning look human. The brief pause as James considers his words, the self-deprecating response--they feel real and genuine. They shift James off the odd pedestal of his status and district; make him more like someone Horatio knows how to talk to.

For a moment, Horatio looks hopeful again. It's a muted thing, mostly in his eyes, but it's there.

Then comes the mention of dancing. Rather than flushing, the colour drains entirely from the tribute's features. Even the offer following the initial reminder doesn't quite get him to look anything but sick.

"I don't know if that's-- possible."

[all_at_sea]

James sees that look cross over Horatio's face again, the look of prey backed into a corner.

"It's okay." He says gently, "It's just steps, putting your feet forward or backwards, that's all." Well, basically, that's what it is. There's drops too, and side-steps, and turns, but all that might be a little bit too much for Horatio to process at the moment.

"I can... I can lead, if you like." He says, holding out his hand and forcing back all the butterflies that erupt in his stomach. Why? Why does this suddenly make him nervous, shy? He can dance. He can probably teach someone how to dance reasonable well if he was given enough time.

And they have a few moments here, privately, maybe Horatio will find a bit of confidence. That's half the trick with most things.

"It would be my pleasure."

[whisted]

As much as Horatio has a sense of dancing--he's certain that what passed for celebration in his District would be nothing like what happened here at the Capitol--there would always be an impossible obstacle. Music would never be his friend. Music would always fight him.

That panic keeps his cheeks pale as he blinks at the hand offered toward him. It's enticing, even before getting to the idea of being led through the paces.

"If... If you say so."

He takes a deep breath before setting his hand in James's again. The older boy will still likely feel the tremble in his fingers.

[all_at_sea]

Dancing in the Capitol is very formal and less... jubilant James supposes. It's the only sort he really knows though, and he'll do as well as he can.

When Horatio takes his hand he can't help but smile, stepping a little closer.

"Very well then. Lesson one, poise." He says, gently putting his hand on Horatio's waist. "Your hand goes on my shoulder. That's it." He says, smile soft and encouraging. "And you relax. Take a few deep breathes. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, I promise not to tread on your toes."

[whisted]

The nerves don't go away completely. They can't, with so much still to learn. Horatio's fingers settle nervously at the taller boy's shoulder, body shifting carefully closer.

He can do this. More importantly, they can do this. If their mentors think that an alliance will help, they have to be able to do something as simple as shifting together from foot to foot.

Being told to relax has Horatio glancing up from his feet. That means there's no hiding the startled blink and actual adoring smile when James mentions--however absently, however thoughtlessly, however intentionally--that he won't let anything bad happen.

All he can manages is to bob his head in acceptance, the faintest bit of colour beginning to return to his cheeks.

[all_at_sea]

James knows this is new. It's one of the million new things that Horatio has to get used to, has to learn. Luckily, he doesn't have to master everything, he doesn't need to know every detail. They've both got good mentors, they can learn from each other. James doesn't know if they can rely on this alliance to hold for ever, but for the meantime, they can both benefit. They can both enjoy this, and relax a little bit more than they would do otherwise.

His hand gently moves, more to the centre of Horatio's back than his waist, trying to get Horatio to straighten up a little, to keep his head up. He seems predisposed to curl in on himself, and James has no clue why. So far, he's found Horatio to be good company, with nothing to be ashamed about.

Perhaps this practice will help him though, at least give him a little more confidence.

"I'm going to lead. That means I make the step first, just by a little bit. You follow. Okay? So, left foot first one step..."

It's lucky there's enough room in the little antechamber. They don't need much, just for a few steps forwards and to the side. The important thing is to get Horatio used to the pattern, on moving so closely with someone else.

[whisted]

It is, apparently, impossible to not stiffen uncomfortably for a heartbeat with a hand settling at the small of Horatio's back. For all Horatio's face stays neutral, for all he does his best to hide the flicker of discomfort by straightening his spine more acutely, a piece of him knows James must have felt it.

His fingers settle more firmly on the taller boy's shoulder. His jaw sets just slightly with quiet focus.

The first step is hesitant--a little too far back, a little too unsteady. His fingers shift tighter on James's, breath coming in a slow exhale. Watching the middle of James's chest, apparently, helps with the next step.

This is jut another challenge. This is just another something to grit his teeth and survive. This is easier, he's already certain, because he has a partner helping him through it.

[all_at_sea]

James' hand moves back to Horatio's waist as soon as Horatio stiffens so- he might not show it on his face, but his body language alone tells James that was a bad move. He remembers the way Simpson had leaned over him, where the brute had put his hands and he realises what an idiot he is. "I'm sorry," He says, honestly, but he doesn't know quite what to say afterwards without bringing up Horatio's fellow Tribute.

So he tries to focus on the dancing. The first step is always uncertain, but that's expected. It's the fact that afterwards, Horatio seems to settle into it. He's set his mind to it, he will do it. And James gently squeezes his hand when his left foot moves, and puts a little more pressure on his waist when it's the right foot. It seems to work.

He could happily stay here for the rest of the evening, gently moving around the room in a square, letting Horatio learn the steps. Unfortunately, that isn't to be. Not when the sound of the music striking up signals the fact that the real dancing, with an audience, has to start.

"It'll be alright." James finds himself saying, and believing. It's just dancing, there's nothing that will harm them, and he'll make sure of that. At least, until Horatio spots the crowd. "You just look at me, and we'll do one dance. That's all we have to do."

[whisted]

The shift of fingers to his hip is faintly reassuring. The soft apology, without qualification or request for clarification, is enough to set a much happier tremble briefly through Horatio's spine.

This, surely, is a partner.

That, as much as anything, lets Horatio relax slightly more into the steps. If he keeps his eyes on James, watches for movement in the older boy's torso and follows the soft pressure of the hands on him, it isn't so entirely impossible. Others will be more graceful, but they'll be passable.

Pellew will be able to work with this. James's mentor will be able to work with this. It will be a good first step toward patronage and the solidification of their plan.

"--I'll just look at you."

Horatio's face remains faintly set, quiet and determined as if they were entering battle, but the relief in his voice is obvious.

[all_at_sea]

They have to work together. That means understanding what makes each other strong, where they both needs support. They need to know what they won't do, what they will do. James knows to be more careful with how he touches Horatio, where he touches him.

He pulls away, but not far, offering Horatio his hand again, if he wants it, before they head back out, into the blindingly bright main rooms. The crowd is clustered around them, but James' polite words make them shift, giving the boys a clear path to the dance floor.

There are already some couples dancing. And there's Lady Barbara, stood on the edge of the crowd, her eyes on them, calculating.

James knows they aren't the centre of attention, and he's glad of that. There's other Tributes from the other Districts dancing- although most of them with their fellow Tribute. As far as he can see in his brief glance, they are the only alliance on the floor for the moment.

He doesn't care about that though, grinning at Horatio and giving him a brief bow. "Would you care for a dance, Mister Hornblower?"

[whisted]

There's already something natural in catching James's hand. It's even easy, for a moment, to let their joined fingers swing slightly, easily, without conscious thought. Horatio will likely realize, later that evening, how familiar the innocent action was--how often he had seen it between the men and women at home who cared for each other.

Thankfully, he hasn't quite realized it yet. That keeps his cheeks only faintly pink as he follows along.

His gaze seeks Pellew's unconsciously. His mentor is speaking quietly to a cluster of glittering strangers; clearly pauses, when they catch each other's eyes. Some piece of him is certain there's a flicker of approval in the older man's gaze. Much more obviously, he gestures to direct the small crowd's attention toward the newly returned pair of Tributes.

That gets his cheeks properly red again before he finds they've come to a stop. There's a flush all down Horatio's neck as he mimics the older boy's bow. "Yes. Please."

Imperfect, but surely the eager way he slips closer to James again makes up for that fumble.

[all_at_sea]

Neither of them are to know exactly what they must look like to the people watching. They can't know that two boys dancing together so unobtrusively at the President's Palace will cause such a stir. That is for the future and the influence of Pellew and Barbara, of careful manoeuvring in the limelight.

All James knows is that it's very nice to dance with Horatio. Neither of them are perfect dancers, and while their mentors might want them to be dancing for their audience, James is dancing becaise he likes this, he likes the music moving through them as they step, he likes the way his fingers brush over Horatio's waist, and the way Horatio's fingers are curled with his.

"You're doing very well." He says, knowing there's no one to hear them. "Don't worry about them, just focus on me. I'll ask of we can use the training room tomorrow morning, together. Before everyone else arrives."

Maybe not to dance, but to spend some time together and begin learning what they could. They didn't have long and they had to use their time wisely.

[whisted]

Thank goodness for their mentors. Thank goodness for having at least this much breathing room, at least this much of a buffer.

Thank goodness for not having to concentrate on anything but dancing and staring at the edge of James's collar.

The gentle praise prompts Horatio to hazard a proper glance up at the older Tribute's eyes. The distraction of planning, of contemplating one of the scraps of the future that aren't horrifying, urges a nervous little smile to Horatio's lips.

"There's some-- fairly simple snares. It'd be good if you knew them."

[all_at_sea]

"Fairly simple is probably what I can handle," James murmurs, but if Horatio is going to teach him, he will learn. He'll learn as best he can and practise tying them whenever he can. After all, Horatio has thrown in his lot with James, and James will do whatever is in his power.

He matches the little nervous smile, with one of his own. Fighting he can do. Dancing he can do. He's not so certain he will ever be very good at fishing and snaring and making things with his hands, just as Horatio isn't comfortable with weapons.

He can't help but feel that, despite everyting, this might not be as bad as expected. It might even be... occasionally, fun. Like this. This is actually fun, and for the first time since he'd volunteered and taken Elizabeth's place, he is finds himself strangely happy.

Which makes his smile wider still, unable to stop it stretching across his face as the dance continues. He doesn't notice Lady Barbara still watching them, or Matthews and Pellew stood together in whispered conversation.

[whisted]

The twitchy little smile is comforting. The brighter, proper smile is breathtaking.

This close, James is incredible. Every inch of him radiates confidence. Every muscle Horatio can feel in the other Tribute's shoulder is solid and warm. Every movement, gently guiding him along, is graceful and certain. And that smile--

Horatio's cheeks flush a brighter pink for a few heartbeats under that smile before he catches himself. "And-- I'll handle the rest."

They'll be a team. Just like now, as Horatio manages to find a rhythm off of James while the music hits his ears like a collection of discordant noises.

[all_at_sea]

"You keep house and I'll be the bread winner?" James laughs, biting it back quickly because they're meant to be dancing, and talking while dancing is considered unseemly. James has never understood why, after all, if you like someone enough to dance, why wouldn't you want to talk to them? Perhaps it's a matter of what you talk about.

There's only a few steps left, the music changing and he can't pretend he isn't slightly disappointed. He should have continued, but he knows Horatio probably would prefer to melt back into the crowd and away from all the attention. He won't ask him to take another turn on the floor, it wouldn't be fair.

Besides, he can see Lady Barbara watching him, and he's almost certain that, although her lips smile, her eyes are threatening to kill him. He should probably ask her to dance, if only so she can tell him how unhappy she is with him now.

"Tomorrow morning then?" He asks, once the dance ends and the couples split, new dancers moving onto the floor. "Right after breakfast?"

If he had at least made some plans for training with Horatio, Lady Barbara couldn't be too upset for whatever slight embarrassment he had caused her.

[whisted]

The laugh is oddly reassuring, however quickly it's bitten back. Horatio's fingers squeeze a little tighter.

For a moment, Horatio can almost forget that this is the worst place he could possibly be.

"Tomorrow morning."

His fingers stay tight. His attention stays focused on James's face. It's so much safer, so much happier, standing right here with James holding onto him.

[all_at_sea]

James has to let go, although holding Horatio had felt completely natural, he knew that as other dances piled into the centre of the room that they couldn't linger. He nods, a small, more indulgent smile crossing his features.

Once Horatio is hidden by the crowd, James sets his shoulders, squaring them. He slips through the crowd and finds Lady Barbara stood where he had last seen her. He's not exactly sure what that expression means, but women are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and even more so the ones who work within the Games.

Still, he's sure whatever she has to say to him won't be enjoyable, and he might as well face it now.

He bows, low and respectful and then offers her his hand. "Would you do me the honour, Lady Barbara?"

[wellesley]

They look good together. They have similar dark looks and long necks. They have the same faint sympathetic wrinkling in their foreheads and around their eyes. More than that, they look at each other well; soft, friendly, just the faintest bit longing for something indistinct beyond the edge of their reality.

Barbara could work with this. She is, ultimately. The soft stories being spun to the potential patrons circled around her come easily enough. So do the affectionate sighs. So do the soft tutting smiles.

That doesn't mean she likes the way James looks at the boy from District 11 at all.

"Isn't he a sweet young man, hm?" Another contented sigh is cast around the circle around her as Barbara reaches to take James's hand. One last push, clearly. "If you'll excuse us a moment."

She's silent as she follows James into the twirling crowd. She's smiling as she ducks her head slightly to murmur closer to his ear.

"That little display wasn't meant to be part of it, James."