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clatoera · 4 months

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Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 2: Barefoot in the Wildest Winter, Catching my Death

Heeeeeey. Welcome back, I call this a mini chapter. It's still almost 3400 words. Thats insane of me. This chapter is

Clove centric/ Clato

20 months after the war/ 7 after the epilogue of ARWBFB

Ironic because the starbucks I wrote this in was so cold my fingers were fucking numb, which you will understand the irony of once you read it.

This is not..intense. It's just a palate cleanser after the Glimmer Prequel I posted this week. I think everyone needed it. I honestly wrote it because we got 10 inches of snow last week and currently are getting multiple more inches as we speak.

Anyway!

Chapter title from Evermore (Taylor Swift)

Masterpost

AO3

Theres also a good bit of cashmere/enobaria mentioned in honor of @bodyelectric77 giving me brain amoebas. I'm just going to tag @kentwells because this whole sequel is your fault. Anyway! Love y'all! love the besties! love everyone! ( I just..love love),

By virtue of the location, the widespread villages littering the biggest mountain range in Panem like sprinkles atop a cupcake, District Two gets substantial snowfall. The kind of snow that allows an extra industry for capitol elites to come and pretend to live like a district citizen in a heated, maintained cabin on the mountainsides, where people can party and celebrate the simplicity of a winter snow in the way that only someone who doesn’t have to worry about keeping heat on can do.

If you were a child in the district without the commitment (Privilege? Curse?) of training, you could celebrate heavy snowfall with snowball fights followed by hot chocolate with your friends in one of your living rooms. If you were a trainee, a possible tribute, snow meant drills in the cold, running despite snow reaching your knees, agility trials on ice. If you were a trainee with just enough of a rebellious streak, snowfall meant you snuck out with the other kids in your class and rode makeshift sleds down the hills otherwise used for terrain testing. And if you were a trainee that got caught, snow meant laying on your back in a bank of it, in shorts and t-shirts, until your skin burned and your body ached. If you were the right kind of District Two training kid- the punishment was worth the glimmer of childhood you got to experience.

The snow was not even the worst part– District Two was extremely cold. Not the type of cold where the cute jackets and scarves produced in District Eight would be sufficient, but the type of bone chilling cold that it was a miracle the majority of the population did not freeze to death by the end of a particularly bad winter. The academy just factored the weather into training– figuring out ways to layer, to stay warm, how to get rest in these types of conditions, and how to keep at peak performance despite below freezing temperatures. The embarrassment of a tribute losing because they lost grip on a weapon (“because of the weather” is an unacceptable excuse), is deeply ingrained in any child who has gone through training in District Two. They considered it to be a privilege to train in such harsh conditions, a leg up on competitors of how to deal with what could be thrown on them in the arena. Weather was not an excuse for failure.

Clove, of course, knows these things. Years later she can handle Brutus’s remarks about her clumsy frozen fingers almost ending her life, but at the time it was an insecurity that was fortunately never addressed due to the scandal of her long-term hidden relationship and accompanying secrets coming to the surface.

Despite her games being a literal arctic blizzard, the snow and the cold had not bothered Clove in the immediate after her games. Sure, there were times where if she closed her eyes long enough on her porch that it felt like she was back in the arena for the briefest of seconds. However the heat of adrenaline that rushed to her chest brought her right back, and when her eyes would fly open and land on her Victor’s Village yard she’d be snapped back into her new reality. A reality of survival and victory.

She was even somewhat fond of the snow, with the recollections of childhood, of times her and Cato had snuck out back in the dead of night to “practice” in the wintry conditions.

“If it weren’t for your hair you’d blend right in.” Cato teased, but his hands slipping under her arms and knees revealed that he meant business. He tossed her, as hard as he possibly could, into an adjacent snow bank, where her tiny teenage body did indeed slip under the entirety of the pile. The fifteen year old girl would have in fact blended in if not for the deep espresso color of her hair. And the constellation of freckles all over her skin. And the deep evergreen color of her eyes. None of which, Cato knew, were normal details to notice about one’s training partner.

The brief distraction would always be enough for Clove to grab him around the ankle, pull his feet out from under him, and bring him tumbling down right into the snow beside her.

They’d always sneak back in with icicles in their hair, water dripping off their clothes as the snow melted away, and a redness that danced across both of their noses and cheeks. Sometimes the only thing that could properly warm them up after was sharing the same dorm room bed, with snide remarks from Clove about how he may as well be a human heater. While those remarks may be snide, they were never a complaint that is.

It wasn’t snow after her games that bothered her, and truthfully, last winter hadn’t even been too terrible. Maybe somewhere, some cosmic control of the universe decided the people of District Two (realistically, the people of all of Panem) had suffered enough the previous year during the war. A couple of inches here or there, temperatures that dropped but never quite hit that bone chilling type of cold they were so familiar with. It was cold but not cruelly so, and that was nothing short of a miracle considering how many District Two citizens were displaced and without housing as a result of the rebels’ bombing. Those signature temperature dip and the blizzards would have been catastrophic to a district that was already facing such immense population loss.

Now, over a year and a half since the conclusion of the war, brutal weather was back to strike their home with a bite.

Multiple feet of snow combined with temperatures plummeting to near zero, both confirmed what Clove knew was coming: Winter in District Two was back with a vengeance.

While Cato had been thrilled to have a classic District Two winter; to take his little sister sled riding, to introduce her to hot chocolate and the power of a hot bowl of soup at the end of a day in the cold (courtesy, of course, of Clove), Clove had truthfully been dreading the impending storm.

The cold, quite frankly, hurt.

It did not hurt from the biting sting of cold wind against flesh or because of tingling fingers and ears from too long outside; no, it hurt deep in her body, in every single movement of her joints. It hurt like her skeleton was crackling, like the marrow inside her bones itself was forming ice crystals that shattered with her movement. It wasn’t just the flexion of her fingers and shoulders that hurt at this point. It hurts to exist. It felt like her ribs were cracking with the expansion of her lungs. With every step, a dull pain inside of her hip sockets begged her to stop moving and just rest. She hadn’t been prepared for every joint that had been dislocated and every healed fracture to remind her that she was never truly going to be able to heal from what Snow had done to her.

Clove, for the first time, understood what they meant when they called it bone cold. And holy shit did it hurt.

She tried the rational and logical ways to warm up. She tried a shower with water so hot it should have blistered her skin off, but only slightly brought her down from the feeling of ice in her veins. She layered on two, three of Cato’s already oversized sweatshirts, swimming in layers of clothes that made her look like a child playing dress up without any warmth radiating deeper than her skin. She had laid in bed, weighed down by a comforter plus another ten pounds of throw blankets, that didn't even touch the ache inside her.

All this is to say that Clove tried a lot before her desperation for any comfort resulted in her current position. On the floor…in front of the fireplace… both on top of and underneath the same ten plus pounds of blankets she had dragged downstairs with her. Even this, the combination of blankets, heat, and Cato’s clothes were only enough to slightly tamper down the ache.

Still, it was apparently just enough for her to fall asleep that way, because the next thing Clove knows, she’s being gently shaken awake with a foot on her shoulder hearing the panicked whispers of “Babe….babe…Clove..babe…Clove..are you alive?” That can only possibly come from Cato, who is insistently shaking her awake. “Clove?”

“Hmmm?” Clove murmurs, peaking one eye open to glance up at the man oh so kindly waking her. He stands over her, flecks of snow melting on the tips of his hair, cold water running off the black waterproof fabric of his coat and onto her face all the way down where she lays under him. “Move back, you’re making me colder.”

“Are you okay?” He nudges her again, but kneels down to closer to the same height as her. He reaches out with an ungloved hand, and the second his icy fingers touch her face Clove recoils into her blanket shell. From this height Clove can see the redness along his cheeks and over his nose that makes him look closer to twelve than twenty three. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I’m cold Cato, and it really fucking hurts.” She whines, tucking her hands into the blankets with her. “I can’t get warm.”

“Right..okay…did you try the bed–”

“Do you think I laid on our living room floor without trying the bed first?”

“Okay, what about those really hot baths you like, I can take you-”

“Cato. I tried it. This is all that helps.” Clove whimpers, rolling from her back onto her side, facing the blaze in the fireplace.

“I’ll be back just… Give me like..fifteen minutes.” Cato stands, and is already taking long strides upstairs before Clove even gets a moment to ask where he’s going.

She lays there for what feels like years in the glow of the fireplace, in the warmth it irradiates and the minimal relief it provides. She feels the presence of him behind her, the light tugging of her blankets, before she sees him.

“Don’t unwrap me, Cato, I’m warm-” Clove protests, but when she feels large, warm hands sliding under her layers and practically wrapping around her torso she melts. “You’re warm, oh my god.”

She doesn��t see him smirk, but knows him well enough to know he is, before he twists her to face him with the easiest twist of his wrists. He flashes her a grin, before pulling her flush against his bare, warm chest. Clove notices, absently, the way his wet hair falls just over his forehead how it did only in the immediate time after he showered until it dried.

“I’d prefer hot but I'll take it.” Cato taunts lightly as Clove buries her cheek against his chest, right over where his heart. “Comfy?” He teases, and a furrowed brow and a single narrowed green eye looks up at him in protest.

“Very.” Clove sighs, curling into him as his hands travel along the skin of her back and bringing heat with them. “You’re like a personal heater.”

“You could have called me, Clove…” Cato reminds her, tucking one leg over both of hers, using as much surface area contact as he could to bring her relief. “I would have come home.”

“You were with your sister, I wasn’t going to interrupt.” She doesn’t mention the embarrassment, the humiliation even, that she felt at the newest physical reminder of her time in the Capitol. A girl who used to love the snow, who loved the cold, now in pain greater than she’d ever admit to her husband. There were some things she didn’t even want him to know– her reduced pain tolerance, being one of them.“How did she like it?”

“She loved it!” Cato lights up, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes as he recounts his afternoon playing with his little sister. “Mom about killed me when she found out I was letting her go down the hill alone, but she had fun. No bones were broken.”

“Mmm, remember that time we found a trash can lid, and I sat on your lap as we went down that big hill behind the training center in the middle of the night?” Clove muses, freeing her hands from her blankety protection and tucking them against his abs. She holds back a giggle at the way he flinches away from her cold touch, his muscle flexing under her fingertips.

“You mean when we slammed into the brick wall and thought you broke your nose? And the giant bruise on my forehead that looked like you decked me with the handle of your knife?” Cato muses, wrapping Clove even tighter in his grasp, smiling to himself when he realizes that all the layers she used to try to insulate herself are his. “Of course I remember.”

“Your entire body weight landed on me and crushed me into the wall, yeah, I thought I was broken.” She wants to lift her head to scowl at him, but she is simply too warm, too comfortable, too safe right now to care. “You were giant, then, too.”

“We’re just lucky it was Brutus that punished us, not Enobaria.” There is a fond smile on his face as he thinks back to what cannot even be considered a simpler time –surely, laying on the living room floor with his wife, no games in sight, was far simpler than being fourteen and grasping for a glimpse of childhood– but certainly a nostalgic memory.

“Lucky? He made us run four miles barefoot, Cato. I would have taken whatever Enobaria was going to throw at us.” Clove tucked her icy feet against his for emphasis, and Cato actually flinched out of the way that time. “See? You still don’t like cold feet.”

“Speaking of Enobaria…doesn’t she have that hot tub, why didn’t you go over? She’s in One isn’t she? You would have had it to yourself…” One would have thought, twenty months into sharing custody of Enobaria with Cashmere and District One, they’d have gotten used to her schedule, used to her not always being readily available at their beck and call.

So many things had kept Enobaria in District Two, of course, in the past thirty some years of her life. Be it the limitations of interdistrict travel, the secret nature of her relationship with Cashmere (who had her own limitations, of course, considering the extent of the Capitol’s influence and abuse on her for over a decade), her commitments to her district and training, or maybe even Clove. Many reasons had existed to keep the Victor woman home, and now in the dawn of a new country, Enobaria had taken her well deserved freedoms.

Of course, that did not mean that they could keep track of her.

Some may go as far to say that Clove, Cato, and even Brutus, missed her sometimes.

Not that a single one of them would ever utter those words to her.

“I thought about it.” Clove sighs, turning her face to press the other cheek against his skin, equally warming her face. “But they’re actually here, I guess they’re here for a while…until Glimmer has the baby. Cash wants to stay in One for a few extra months straight after, I guess, so they’re making up time here for now. And I did not want to interrupt something over there again, especially not in the hot tub…” She shutters, not from the cold this time but from a distasteful memory that she clearly has brought to the surface. “Besides…I didn’t really want to go outside.”

“It’s kind of funny that Enobaria and Cashmere act like kids with divorced parents…back and forth back and forth to split their time evenly. Why don’t they just stay here?” Cato raises an eyebrow, a coy smile on his face. “District Two is obviously the better option.”

“Cashmere can’t leave her brother and sister, you know that. And she’s definitely not leaving now that Glimmer’s gonna have a whole kid soon.” Not just a kid, a little girl, a fact that Clove had to hear from Glimmer multiple times a day. “It would arguably make more sense for her to move to One if we’re suggesting permanent moving..and you know she isn’t going to leave here.”

“Enobaria would never survive with a neighbor named Rhinestone.”

Clove’s laugh is muffled against his chest, but he’s right. Splitting their time, like kids traveling between homes on holidays, was going to be their best bet. It didn’t make it any less funny, to imagine the mentor they all know and love spending half her time there.

Her laugh fades as her smile falls, and Clove can’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I have to lay on the floor like this, I know it isn’t comfortable.”

“Clove..”

“I’m serious. This is just another new weakness, I guess. Just another thing Snow took from me.”

Cato’s hand slips off the skin of her back and Clove bites back a groan at the loss of warmth, before his hand holds the exposed side of her face. He doesn’t force her to look at him, simply strumming his thumb along her cheekbone. “Clove? I will bring the mattress down here, and we can sleep in front of this fireplace for the rest of Winter, hell, for the rest of our lives if it makes you feel even the slightest bit better. You aren’t weak, babe. I don’t even know if I could have survived what you did. You were tortured. And if this is how winter is going to go, this is how we’re going to survive it. Together.”

The composure she had tried so hard to maintain crumbles like the facade it is, and the gasping breath she takes startles Cato to the point that he has to look down at her.

“It hurts to breathe, Cato. My lungs hurt and my ribs hurt and it hurts to move and it hurts to bend my fingers. It’s like I'm frozen inside and it hurts.” Clove gasps out, burying her face firmly in the center of his chest. “I didn’t think i’d be in this much pain because of some fucking weather.”

Hurt. Pain. Neither words that Clove would ever admit to, not to anyone else in the world. To anyone but Cato, they made her a target, they made her vulnerable, and they made her weak.

“I know, Clove. I know.” He admits, bringing his hand back down to her side, warming her up from the inside of her shirts. “I wish I could take it for you.”

I wish I could take it for you.

What a gesture that is, in District Two, where pain makes you weak and vulnerable. To be willing to carry that burden, to take on that proverbial target. Only among District Two, would the admission of pain and the subsequent willingness to take it be such a marker of love.

“I just feel like someone could take me out so easily and i’m so useless right now and-”

“Noone’s coming after us. Noone’s going to take us out. And if they were, I think I’ve got it covered. I’m a Victor, too, you know.” Cato promises, bringing his lips down to kiss the top of her head, where she is nearly trying to burrow into his skin for the warmth he so readily provides. “I’ve got us, Clove. Pretend it’s my turn to keep watch in the games, okay? Sleep…relax..I’ve got us.”

“Am I gonna get a turn?” Clove nearly teases, and he can feel her lips quirking into a smile against his skin.

He snorts, and somehow manages to pull her closer. “Once a snowman isn’t your biggest opponent, sure.”

The pinch he feels on his side is enough for him to know that she was going to be just fine.

#clato #cato and clove #arwbfb au #arwbfb tag #always remember we're burned for better tag #clato fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #clato fanfiction #clato tag #clove tag #cato tag #cashmere and enobaria #cashbaria tag #arwbfb sequel #pfsk tag #picket fences sharp as knives tag

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clatoera · 18 days

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Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 7: They Got No Idea About Me And You

Heyyyy Besties. Long time no see. March was rough. It's been rough. But tell a friend to tell a friend she's baaack.

Title from t swift Dress. I almost used a chappell roan lyric but I have committed so hard to the t swift bit I couldnt do it.

ao3

masterpost

It is the long awaited cashbaria chapter, featuring a scene of them during the 74th games and then a post war follow up of them! I specifically need to mention and notice my friends @bodyelectric77my go to cashbaria queen and @kentwells who has had MANY many conversations about these things with me. They write the Cashbaria that I read so please check them both out!!! I don't think @ohhowwehavefallen even uses tumblr anymore but at this point she gets tagged in any post I make ever so..hello bestie.

I am not a cashbaria writer and I hope I did them justice in this fic. It was a LOT of fun. I had wanted to get it up earlier this week for Sapphic Visibility day along with @bodyelectric77 because it's funny they have similar vibes of sapphics being blatantly visible but the people closest to them being absolutely oblivious. Thank you my friend, you're incredible, your writing inspires me.

Alright. Lets rock this bitch.

“Mmm…think they’ve noticed yet?”

As the voice comes from behind her, Enobaria can’t help the coy smile that etches it’s way on to her face. She doesn’t even need to turn to face the source, as she is hit with the combined smell of vanilla and honey and something floral that is just uniquely Cashmere. If the scent alone weren’t enough, the flurry of blonde curls that leak over her upper arm as a familiar face rests on her shoulder, with lithe hands wrapping around her waist would be the dead giveaway that it is her girlfriend.

Well, her girlfriend, or someone with a very creative death wish.

“Noticed what? That they’re trying to fit four people on a couch made to fit two?” Enobaria muses, bringing her hand up to rest her fingertips along Cashmere’s cheek bone. “I know Cato thinks he needs to live inside of Clove, but it’s a little nauseating to watch.”

It isn’t even Enobaria’s style, this blatant display of hands-on skin and kisses on cheeks, but it wasn’t like she was ashamed of such. It was dangerous, to give the president any further leverage to dangle above either of them. It wasn’t public and it wasn’t secret, but a third undefinable thing. The kind of thing that was open to their safest friends—Brutus, Gloss, Finnick, Johanna and such—and on a need-to-know basis with all the others. That group of safest friends would of course include Cato and Clove, if they ever figured it out that is.

Still. They are mostly alone, doing what District Two called “mentor mentoring” but what Enobaria and Brutus so affectionately call babysitting. It was just the right time of day, when the action died down, and victors were either slipping off to self soothe (medicate) or prepare for whatever the evening presented in terms of sponsors and clientele.

And honestly, if anyone needed babysitting to ensure they actually learned how to mentor, it was Cato and Clove.

“They’re just excited to be together!” Cashmere assured, settling into the space between Enobaria and the bar, wrapping her other arm around her to pull her fully into a hug from behind her. “They’re kids, they’re just having fun. You knowwhat I’m talking about them noticing, ‘Baria. Have they noticed this.” To emphasize, she kisses along her jawline, but keeps her eyeline trained on the four young victors loudly taunting each other on the couch. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought they were just normal teenagers, up too late and laughing loud enough that their parents would be down to yell at them at any minute.

Unfortunately, they were not normal kids, and they were barely raised by their parents at all. They were raised by combinations of victors, trainers, and violence in various combinations.

The four of them, practically on top of each other, mocking other teenagers as they screamed on television, was somehow as close to normal as they were ever going to be.

Enobaria lets out a little sigh as she leans into Cashmere’s affection, before she gives a little shake of her head. “I mean it. It’s like they don’t notice anyone but each other. They probably don’t even realize they aren’t alone on the couch.”

“And they were going to go into the games together? That would have been a real PR disaster for District Two, you know.” Cashmere teases, before she slips around from behind Enobaria to the side of her, before slipping one of her legs on top of the other woman’s knees and nearly sitting right in her lap.

“You’re telling me. It would have been an absolute nightmare. We used to think they were this perfect pair, they just understood each other so well. Yeah, it could have been hard when it came down to the final two but nothing they couldn’t handle. But then…you know, they thought they were so good at sneaking around, but they’re fucking idiots. They didn’t talk to anyone else. One was always missing from their bed. They were great together, apparently a little too great. It was a liability to send them in together. I know I was afraid of what we would pull out of that arena in whichever won.” Enobaria took the opportunity to be the one holding Cashmere now, resting her head against the blonde’s. “Sometimes I wish we had done it, though. He’s fucking infuriating. It’s gross to watch them.”

“Oh, you don’t mean that, Enobaria. They’re cute together. They’re happy, and they get to be openly happy. Unlike the rest of us. I’d kill for that. So would Finnick…and Glimmer too.”

“They don’t even know how lucky they are.” It does not need to be said what luck Enobaria was referring to. By some miracle there was never any demand for the two of them, no clients to be at the beck and call of. It was probably becauseof each other, and for that, Enobaria really was thankful for their mutual survival.

That was not something she was prepared to explain to Clove quite yet.

“You busy tonight?” Enobaria slides in, intentionally sliding in vague phrasing due to the risk of ever listening walls.

She feels Cashmere physically sag in her arms, practically collapsing the lines of her body to press flush against her. “The usual. The gamemakers get bored at this point in the games until things spice up.”

Enobaria tenses at the phrasing. It was clear what (and more importantly, who) was going to be spicing things up for the gamemakers tonight. She gently scratches her nails over the pale forearms she holds in her hands, drawing little swirling patterns with the very tip of her index finger. “Gloss and Glimmer too?”

“Gloss is with Finnick. Glimmer’s got the fullest schedule of all of us tonight.” Cashmere feels the coolness in her voice at the statement, and if someone didn’t know her, they may even mistake it for jealousy over her little sister’s popularity. Little did they know the layer of self-loathing that overtook Cashmere and Gloss both, anytime the schedule of Glimmer’s nightly roster of abusers was sent over.

“What’s going on with your sister and Marbles up there?” Enobaria took the opportunity to ask, cocking her head just slightly as she watches the two victors opposite Cato and Clove, and from where she’s standing, Glimmer may as well be curled up in the lap of her own fellow District One victor. “It’s like career victor inbreeding these days. Cato and Clove…Shimmer and Sparkles up there…Finnick and crazy Cresta…”

“I’m not sure. She never told us something was happening with them. They’ve been friends for a long time. He’s sweet to her. She hasn’t told me anything specific, though, and I’m sure she would if they were together.” Cash sticks her hand out blindly to the side, grabbing the glass off the bar that Enobaria had been drinking before Cashmere slid into her arms. It’s always easier, to deal with those bored clients, with a little bit of a sedative in her system. She doesn’t even get more than a sip before she shutters, harshly reminded that District Two does not believe in mixers. Instead, she taunts Enobaria gently, “Would we be part of Victor inbreeding then, Baria?”

“Absolutely not. We can’t actually accidentally breed. Besides. We’re not from the same district, we’re adding diversity to the Victor gene pool.” Enobaria teases in response but raises a playful eyebrow. “You think Glimmer would just...tell you? Remind me again how she found out about us?”

“Oh, Enobaria that’s not important- “

“No, I like to hear it.”

Cashmere’s eyeroll was nearly audible as she let out an annoyed sigh. “She noticed I changed my nail shape for the first time in ten years.”

“And why did you change your nails?”

Enobaria grins, watching the flush actually flood Cashmere’s neck and trail up to her face. “You know why, you aren’t being funny!”

“I know. I just like how you get all flustered about it.” Enobaria squeezes her arm playfully, before she leans up to kiss right under her ear. “And I appreciate the consideration.”

“Enobaria!” Cashmere huffs, twisting in her arms before crossing her own over her chest. “So, they didn’t notice youdon’t have your little razor nails?”

“Baby, I don’t think Clove knows you can even paint nails, let alone notices the shape.”

“You practically raised her. I remember you coming to the Capitol that one weekend when we were young and asking me how to teach her how to throw, oh it was so cute, Baria. She knows you so well, she has to notice something!” At the mention of them, nearly ten years ago, she wriggles back into Enobaria’s embrace warmly. “That’s how I knew there was some love in that scary District Two Victor shell, the notorious Enobaria asking how to teach a little girl the proper technique. Not just a little girl at training, but one you actually cared about!”

“Exactly. I spent the most time with her. You’ve been part of my life almost as long as she’d be able to remember. I’ve always been just like this.” Enobaria sighs, before she brings her hand up to run through the very end of Cash’s curls. “I actually don’t think she’s ever once considered I may actually like…yeah. I don’t think that’s crossed her mind.”

“Mmhmm, were you kissing pretty blonde girls in your lap back in District Two?” Cash teases, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders, beyond testing the limits of how far she could go before any of those damn kids noticed. “Cato seems like he knew his way around the girls his age, you mean he never even made a comment about it?”

“Cash, you are literally on top of me, and he hasn’t noticed. He isn’t the most observant career boy you’ll ever meet. He actually was so obsessed with Clove, he wasn’t that hard to keep off other girls. I just wanted to keep him off of— and out of—Clove. Besides. I don’t think he knows that girls...can be with girls. That might break his fragile little brain.”

Cashmere throws her head back in a genuine laugh that should have pulled the attention of the whole room. Somehow, the four of them are so in their own little word they don’t even bat an eye.

Thank God all four of them weren’t in the games together. They’d never pay enough attention to their surroundings for any single one of them to come out a winner.

“What do you mean? He doesn’t know girls can like girls?”

“His only two modes are kill and Clove. We’re lucky he remembers to breathe. Or unlucky, depending on the day.”

“Are you going to tell them then?” Cash teases. It’s evident that Enobaria isn’t hiding anything from Clove. They are truly just not observant enough to notice anything but themselves.

As if to emphasize they are truly paying no attention to the girls in the back of the room, Clove can be heard making some snide remark as she gets off of Cato’s lap, reaching down into the fruit bowl on the glass coffee table in front of them. At the same time, they watch as Glimmer shifts to the side so Marvel climbs out from under her. He walks to one end of the room before Clove takes her hand full of something they cannot yet identify to the other.

Enobaria and Cashmere watching in a shared sense of amusement and confusion as Clove quite literally starts throwing, with unyielding precision, something small directly into Marvel’s mouth.

“Are those...?” Cashmere muses, tilting her head in bemusement, an inquisitive expression on her face.

“I think they’re grapes?” Enobaria confirms.

Enobaria laughs, actually openly laughs, when Marvel lets out a sharp yelp as he gets absolutely drilled in the eye by a little green fruit.

“Clove! What the hell, I thought you don’t miss!” Marvel whines, bringing his hand to cover his stinging left eye.

“I don’t.” Clove reminds with a smug smirk on her face.

Cashmere audibly sighs, burying her face in the lengths of Enobaria’s hair at her neck. “…you know what, on second thought, maybe they should figure it out themselves.”

______________________________________________________________________

There are approximately fifty steps between Clove’s front door and Enobaria’s. Forty-four if you walked fast, sixty if you took your time. It’s not a hard path to cross, even in a District Two blizzard.

It is a miserable trek, however, when someone else’s child is screaming at you the entire walk.

“I know, I know, you miss your mother that we just saw fifteen seconds ago.” Enobaria mumbles, practically slamming her front door shut behind her the second she is fully inside. The heartbroken mumbles of ‘mama’ coming from the one-year-old, with his teary blue eyes staring at the door like his mother would walk in and rescue him at any moment, give Enobaria a sense of Déjà vu she wishes all too well she didn’t know how to place. For all he looked like his father—and by god Cato may as well have cloned himself— there evidently was some of his mother in him, too. “I’m not going to steal you forever kid, trust me. I know you’d live inside her if you could, but unfortunately for you so would your dad.”

She kicks her shoes off, fully intending to lay on the couch for the next few hours, hoping to lull the boy to sleep until Clove would be back to collect him after…wherever the hell they were going.

She had tried to pay attention to Clove’s plans for the night. It isn’t her fault that Clove made such a clingy little thing that cried any time he was out of her arms.

“Alright, buddy, lets just stop with the sad eyes, if you go to sleep, she’ll be back when you wake up—” When she makes that promise of a returning mother, she is at least sure a liar will not be made of her this time.

As soon as Enobaria goes to sit with him, she hears some sort of chatter elsewhere in the house. The sound of a hairdryer pairs with the voices, and immediately she knows Cash must be singing to herself or something as she does her hair.

“Oh, Aunt Cash will be so excited to see you.” She is drawn to the sound she shifts him from her shoulder to lower on her hip, his endless babbles of mama nearly blending into the background now.

As soon as she reaches the top of her stairs, she hooks the right to the bedroom, as the sound of the dryer gets louder and louder. Smiling to herself, she nudges the door open with her foot. “Hey baby, I didn’t know you were coming home yet, I brought—”

Enobaria is stunned to silence as she is greeted by not one, not two, but three blonde girls sitting on the bathroom floor looking up at her. The baby, too, even stops his incessant babbling to stare at Cashmere and the girls.

Cash sits, with her back to the bathtub, hair dryer in her hand, and a little blonde toddler sitting cross legged on each of her knees. She flicks the dryer off with a wide smile on her face, looking up at Enobaria.

One of the twins steals the first greeting, big green eyes blinking up at her and the sweetest little smile on her face when she sees her. She pushes off of Cashmere’s knee, to close the distance between herself and her other aunt. “Hiiiiii Aun-ie Baria! We’re visit-in your house!!”

Enobaria softens, leaning down to scoop up the little girl with her free arm. It had become surprisingly easy to tell the twins apart once they got a little bigger, and from personality alone she knew who she was talking to at any time.

“Hello Miss Stella,” It was always a little shocking, claiming Cashmere’s nieces as her own, and it was almost unsettling at times how much they looked like they could be Cashmere’s girls. Still, they’re sweet kids and they’re cute as hell. It is shockingly easy to love them. “How did you end up here in our other house! It’s a long way from your house…”

“Uh you told me that we were babysitting today, Enobaria.” Cashmere reminds her as if it is obvious. She shifts Aurelia to sit between her legs as she reaches over and grabs a curling iron off the tile floor beside her.

“Yeah, Cash, I was watching him.” Enobaria nods her head towards the little blond boy, who’s resolved to resting his head on her shoulder. At least he had finally stopped crying—

and hey, she gets it, she likes to look at Cash too. “You just... brought the girls on the train and didn’t think to like... mention that?”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal! They were excited to come see our other house, huh sunshine?” Cash waves off, before she brushes through her niece’s long baby soft hair with her fingers one time before she takes the curling iron to a small section. Aurelia sits so uncharacteristically still for a two and a half year old, clearly well trained on how to have her hair done.

“How did you even end up with them today?” Enobaria decides her best course of action is to just join Cashmere on the floor, and kicks the door shut behind her. She presses against the wood with her back, sliding down while still holding both the toddlers in her arms without missing a beat. “aren’t they kind of little for your to be heating up their hair like that?”

“It’s the second Wednesday of the month!” She explains as if that means anything, carefully placing the hot iron out of reach before reaching for a handful of pink ribbon which she ties around the little half ponytail she makes on her niece’s head. “Don’t be silly honey, I used heat protectant on it! They like to feel pretty!”

“Does that mean something to me that it’s second Wednesday?”

“It’s nail day, Enobaria. Second and Fourth Wednesdays are nail days. Stella, show Auntie Baria your nails!” Cashmere instructs, and Stella does stick out her little hand towards Enobaria’s face. Enobaria, to her credit, does give an appreciative glance at the incredibly tiny pink nails. “I think they’re all doing something together, Glim said she’ll be in Two anyway to pick them up tonight. Like I said, I thought we were already babysitting them, and Glimmer didn’t correct me so...”

Aurelia is the one who pushes off of Cash next, little blonde curls bouncing as she half runs across the room. She settles herself between the two children Enobaria already holds, reaching out her own little pink nails to grab the baby’s hand. “Hiiii baby.”

“Look at you, covered in career babies.” Cash teases, her hand over her heart playfully. “Come here Stells, it’s your turn.” She cocks her head as Stella does as she’s asked, and Aurelia shifts to take her place with Enobaria. “How old is he? Is he one yet?”

“Yeah, well, remember when I called it Career Victor inbreeding? This is what I meant.” Enobaria teases playfully, glancing down at the baby who was finally, somehow, done with his crying. Now, he just stared at the twins with wide blue eyes, fascinated by the shimmering gold ribbons on the middle of their dresses. “Mmm… he’ll be one I think next month. It’s soon.”

“He’s just so freaking big. He’s like... twin sized and they’re nearly three.” She mumbles, taking a few moments just to hold Stella in her lap rather than go straight for her hair. “Oh, come on, Enobaria, at least they’re cute! They’re so worth it. And we get to give them back at the end of the day, that’s the best part.”

“Of course he’s huge, his dad is a mammoth.” Enobaria reminds, gently prying his hands off of Aurelia’s tulle skirt that he had managed to lean forward to grab. “They are pretty cute kids; I’ll give them that. Even if this one looks like his dad.”

“Poor Clove, he’s practically bigger than her. That had to hurt...” Cashmere mumbles, going back to her task of brushing through Stella’s soft hair.

“….Cash?”

“Yeah, baby?” She replies absently, spritzing Stella’s hair before going in with the curling iron.

“…we are watching all the kids. All their parents are alone right now.”

“Yeah, and? I think they were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah, probably each other!” Enobaria nearly hisses.

“Oh, relax Enobaria! They aren’t doing that! Aren’t they all together?”

Enobaria half whispers, glancing between the two little blond kids she held and the one in Cashmere’s lap. “They won’t be together all night. We are not watching a fourth one, Cash. I draw the line at a fourth. How did we end up watching three children who do not belong to us?”

Cashmere tries to stifle her giggle, failing miserably as she reminds her, “we didn’t pay enough attention when babysitting their parents.”

#arwbfb tag #the hunger games #arwbfb au #pfsk tag #picket fence is sharp as knives tag #always remember we're burned for better tag #cashbaria #enobaria x cashmere #cashbaria tag #enoabria thg #cashmere thg #clato thg #glimmer and marvel tag #clato tag #hunger games fanfic

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clatoera · 3 months

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I have so many good things to say about chapter 3 (including the grilled cheese oh my fucking god and CASHMERE SWEATER cato is so funny) but most of all I love the way you write female friendships and the bonds of women. It’s really refreshing and remarkable especially between characters who have been written as enemies since forever❤️

🥹🫶🏻 Thank you so so much my friend. This is something I honestly find really important to represent and include, as I believe female friendships and bonds among women are the backbone of society. Glimmer and Clove canonically may not have been friends, but they WERE allies. They did not have to hate each other over a boy. This is career girly redemption season!

Also yes she finally gets her grilled cheese! And thank you I honestly think Enobaria’s Sweater is one of the funniest things I have ever written in my entire life. I’m never going to top this one.

Thank you for reading my friend but also for this sweet comment!! I am so glad to be doing right by the girlies!

#arwbfb tag #arwbfb reactions #pfsk tag #glimmer and clove besties 4 eva

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clatoera · 2 hours

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Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 8: You Knew What You Wanted, and Boy You Got Her

Heeey besties sorry for yet another middle of the night fic drop. We are back and better than ever with some Clato content. This one and the next two are just all about them so! Live laugh clato era!. The next one..is in fact the one you have all been waiting for and I think this one gives the hint as to what that will be. Fun fact about this chapter, is this is the chapter i've been scheming for over a year. It is the reason I made the twins identical. All for this chapter to happen.

Masterpost

AO3

Title from Taylor Swift So High School, because this is like..referencing the uh..we'll just say readiness of her LOL. IDK it'll make sense when you read it.

As always let me tag my beloved @kentwells and @bodyelectric77 who literally listen to me do nothing but talk about this fic. I love u thank you for sticking around.

The first thing Clove does, every time she comes home, is kicks her shoes off without untying them. In the back of her mind she can hear her grandmother, telling her that's how she ruined them, by stepping on the feel with the opposite toe and yanking her foot out by the ankle. Later, she can hear Enobaria telling her at least she’s efficient and in all areas of her life she’s a quick girl. Now, she’s twenty three and even still, it is just so much simpler to slip her foot out of her shoes than take the time to untie them.

She can always buy more.

It’s one of the many things that, after the war that upended her life, has become part of new routine. It should shock noone that the kids who were raised in the strictest, highest level of training academy of District Two, grew into adults who craved some sort of order. Ones who especially craved it once every other aspect of the world around them changed.

It was so simple, really. Clove goes on her little– little, being anywhere from four to twenty miles depending on how much her body could take– run. She comes home. She enters through the back door into the kitchen, because if she came in the front and Enobaria was home Cashmere would catch her on her way and talk to her for fifteen minutes. She took off her shoes, left then right, losing about an inch of height once the running shoes were off her feet. She takes approximately five steps to the island in the center of her kitchen, where she would take off her jacket if it were a cool day. On summer days like today, she pulls the elastic out of her hair and lets it tumble past her shoulders and to the middle of her back where it covers the exposed skin between the elastic bands of her workout clothes. Because it is the beginning of September and summer is threatening to close in on them anyday, she sometimes treats herself to the last of whatever seasonal fruit she has on hand.

Today, though, she bypasses the snack as she glances at the clock above the stove. Six thirty. Something about the time brings her pause, as she cocks her head and strums her nails along the marble countertop. Six thirty. Early September. She just has this sense that she’s missing something. Were they supposed to be somewhere today?

“Babe?” Clove calls out, distracted as she counts out something on her fingers. No. That wasn’t today. Nope, not that either. Nope, the trip to Four is next weekend. Enough seconds pass with no response that Cato either did not hear her or is not home, and at least if it’s the latter she can assume he remembered whatever she didn’t. She tries again, “Cato? Babe, are you home?”

As she calls out she makes her way from the kitchen over towards her living room, still perplexed by whatever it is she apparently forgot to write down. She’s missing something. “Cato, I think we’re supposed to be doing something?” She tries again, but as she rounds the corner she is aggressively reminded of what she was supposed to be doing today.

“Oh look, there’s your Aunt Clovey.”

Clove stops short in the doorway, taken back by Cato standing not too far from the center of the room holding not one but two little blonde babies in either arm. Six months old, almost, and yet compared to the size of him they may as well have been six weeks.

God he’s fucking huge.

Focus, Clove, Focus.

Clove pauses, leaning her head on the doorframe for just the slightest of a second before she crosses the couple of steps to stand directly in front of Cato and the girls, who even still are all significantly above her eye level. “Cato..” Clove starts, an artificially sweet tone filling her voice as she reaches up to grab the hand of one of the twins, not entirely sure which is which yet. “Where did these babies come from?”

“Uh, Glimmer? I mean technically I guess they came from Marvel first but–” Cato shrugs, in doing so making both of the twins giggle as they’re lightly bounced in his arms.

Early September. Six thirty. Three months after her wedding anniversary which is..Glimmer’s.

“No shit, I know they came from Glimmer, Cato. I mean where is their dear mother?” Clove rolls her eyes at him, but holds her hands out to the baby he holds on his left, allowing her to lean her upper body into her hands and transfer into Clove’s awaiting arms.

“She just left, literally minutes before you got home, you probably would have run into her if you came in the front.” Cato explains, though he doesn’t even spare a look in Clove’s direction. Instead he directs all of his words in the direction of the little blonde he still holds, gasping desperately for the baby’s attention. His efforts are rewarded as the baby reaches her little hand up to his face, grasping her little fingers at any part of his face she can find a grip in.

“I can’t believe she actually left them. I don’t think she can even sleep without holding them. I thought they’d be eighteen before she could step away.” Clove mumbles, running her own spare hand through the soft baby curls of whichever girl she holds. “Which one is this?”

“Oh, she didn’t want to leave them. She looked like she was going to cry so I just shut the door on her. I told her she needed to go have dinner or mediocre sex or something.” Cato waves off, peeling the baby’s hand off of his face before he flips her around to face Clove. In the same motion he settles her on his shoulders, little baby hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair in the meantime. He’s been built for a lifetime of discomfort, and so the grasp of a six month old was absolutely nothing on him. The silly smile does in fact start to fall from his face at Clove’s follow up question, and he narrows his eyes at the baby absolutely pulling at Clove’s free flowing hair. “You know, I didn’t get a chance to ask. She was grabbing their hands and I could see the tears and I just pushed her out.”

Clove raises a disbelieving eyebrow, taking the minute to narrow her eyes at her husband. “...you didn’t think to clarify which of the identical twins was which?”

“Well I would have, but I thought she was going to change her mind so. No. How about we’ll call this one Glimmer Two,” Cato holds up the baby’s arm and makes her wave at Clove, which earns an excited little babble in Clove’s direction. “And yours can be Glimmer Three.”

“She’s going to actually kill us if we mix them up. What happens when we switch them and then Stella spends her entire life thinking she’s her sister” Clove teases, but glances down at her own assigned baby who is fascinated by shoving fistfulls of dark hair into her mouth.

“Stella?” She tries, looking between the two for a reaction. Both are too fascinated with the adult who holds them to notice, so she tries the alternative. “...Aurelia?” Again, neither grace her with any sort of attention or acknowledgement, and Clove huffs in impatience. “Now I know they know their damn names.”

“Yeah, and the superior twin likes me better, but they seem pretty unimpressed right now. Do you think there's a secret third?” Cato questions, trying to turn his head to glance up at his designated twin resting around his neck. “Are you Glimmer Two or Glimmer Four?”

“...I’m color coding them.” Clove determines, glancing around the room for the bag full of outfit changes Glimmer brings everywhere she goes. “Glimmer Two is in Pink, i’m putting this one in purple or something. Also you know if Glimmer hears you call one the superior twin she’s going to lose it.”

“Oh we all know you like Stella better, Clove.” Cato flips his baby back around, quite literally, and she lands in his arms with a squeal of delight. A smug smirk finds his face as he glances Clove over from her head to her toes. “I just like to bet on the littlest ones, you would know about that. Sometimes the runt can surprise you.”

“I don’t like Stella better, Stella just likes me better. Aurelia likes you, anyway.” Clove waves off, holding back her eye roll as she gently unravels the baby’s hand from her hair. She offers him a coy smirk, looking him up and down. “Maybe I just take pity on the big ones. Especially the big dumb boys.”

“She’s just saying that, she’s obsessed with me, kid.” He directs towards the baby (who, for what it’s worth is in fact Aurelia), managing to drape the entirety of her little body over the length of his forearm. “It can’t be that bad, they can’t be gone long anyway. I give ‘em two hours max.”

“Lucky for us they actually need their mother so they don’t starve, she’ll come back soon.” Clove assures herself more than anyone else. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the girls, quite the opposite actually. She’d even go as far as to say she adores them, but only to certain people who asked. Still, it wasn’t like she had any experience with being alone and responsible for entirely dependent human beings. Unless, of course, you count preteen Cato. At that thought she glanced around, her attention honing in on the haphazard collections of knives and other weapons around the general vicinity. “...watch her. I need a minute.”

Clove slides Stella down to the floor, and once she is sitting independently on the carpet, Clove goes to step away and collect the literal weapons out of their grasp. Almost instantly a high pitched whining comes from the baby, who immediately has her hands up in the air towards Clove, baby hands clenching into clingy little grasps for attention. Clove pauses, turning in place when she feels the little hands grabbing at her sock. “Seriously?”

The whining intensifies, turning desperate and higher in pitch as Clove glances down at the baby by her leg. She notices the pouty lower lip and almost immediately freezes. “No, no no no, no crying. Please. No crying.” Clove’s eyes immediately flit up to Cato, who’s still standing by her with the smuggest grin on his face. “A little help would be nice, Cato.”

“Fuck it, Clove. They can’t move anyway.” Cato points out, nodding his head towards the whining baby at her feet. “She’s probably literally never been put down in her life, just hold her.”

Clove audibly sighs, and exchanges the handful of metal for a handful of baby. It’s like she’s hit the metaphorical off switch, and the baby immediately stops her threat of tears. Stella settles right against Clove’s hip , laying her head down on her shoulder with not a threat of shedding a single tear. “Is this a joke? Are we going to have to hold them all night?”

“That has to be Stella. She liiikes you.” Cato decides, before he decides to kick back onto the couch with the twin he has deemed Aurelia. “Don’t act like the world’s ending, there’s worst things to be doing than holding cute babies, Clove.”

“They are cute.” Clove muses, resting her cheek on top of the little blonde head on her shoulder. “It’s fucking weird, they really do look just like Glimmer. It’s weird to be holding little versions of Glimmer.”

“They’re just lucky they don’t look like Marvel.” Without much warning Cato reaches out and grabs Clove by the band of her sports bra, jerking her back towards the couch. As soon as her knees hit the edge he pulls her down and to his side, looping his free arm around her waist.

It’s instinctive, the way she pulls her feet up and tucks them over his knee, angling her body towards him like the second nature that it is. “Isn’t it like..a weird thing to you? That our friends made these. Like..literally made them. Glimmer grew these hands.” She holds up Stella’s hand for emphasis, before it once again embeds in the lengths of her hair.

“I feel like they should probably thank us for existing, I mean it was our wedding. It’s not typical that you need to ask your friends to watch your six month olds on your first anniversary.” Cato teases, before he pinches at Clove’s exposed skin.

“Glimmer doesn’t appreciate the reminder of her shotgun wedding, you know that.” Clove flinches out of his grasp, letting out a yelp that startles one of the twins out of whatever little trance they seemed to be in. “She’s a good mom though. They’re lucky girls, to have ended up with her. I think she was born to be a mother.”

She misses the way Cato seems to be staring at her with something on his mind, as she has to once again pry her hair out of the death grip of a child. This time she has to also pull her strands of hair from Stella’s fist and mouth, only barely containing her disgust at moisture in her hair. “Do you think they’re hungry?”

“Huh?” He is only half paying attention, pulled from a daydream or something as Clove brings him back to their current reality. “What did you say?” “I said do you think they’re hungry, space cadet.” Clove teases, pushing herself back off of him so she could settle the baby in her lap. “She’s trying to eat my hair.”

“..can we even feed them anything in this house? Can babies…eat? I’m sure their parents fed them, Clove. Do they even have teeth?”

“Oh they have teeth, haven’t you heard Glimmer complain about it? Besides, babe, we go to their house three days a week so I can fill their fridge with baby and Marvel safe snacks. We’ve been doing it for two months.” She points out, before she’s off the couch and heading back towards the kitchen with one of the twins still tightly situated on her hip.

Cato wastes no time following behind, albeit a little annoyed to be off the couch already after he had just started to get comfortable with her. “Are they even hungry?”

“I don’t know Cato, I just know I feel this urge to feed them, okay? Like it’s my job.” Clove waves off, flittering over to her usual side of the kitchen as Cato settles in across the island.

“Hmm..is it you who likes strawberries or are you the kiwi baby?” Clove asks the baby in her left arm, grabbing a handful of both out of the fruit bowl in the middle of the table.

“I don’t think she’ll answer you.” Cato teases, sitting his twin on the island and holding her up against his chest. “I actually don’t know when babies talk.”

“I”m surprised these ones don’t already, considering their dad never shuts up.” She comments, holding her left hand firmly down on her twin’s arms and hands, so she cannot lunge for the knife in her right hand. “They like..babble at each other though. They’re probably telling each other we’re incompetent.” As if it’s nothing, Clove easily uses the knife to start cutting perfect heart shaped slices out of a strawberry with only one hand, the other still holding Stella (she thinks) back. She lets go of her hand to give her a single sliced heart, and immediately has to grab at her little baby hand once again. “No, baby, please don’t maim yourself. You have parents who could actually try to kill me.” She tilts her head when Stella crinkles her little nose, looking at Clove in confusion before resuming her babbling at her. “...are you the kiwi baby then?”

She slides Cato the plate of strawberries for the other baby, before she resumes her one handed slicing and shaping. “How about we do Kiwi stars, since we have strawberry hearts?” Clove asks the babies, who simply continue their normal baby babbles at her and each other.

She’s distracted by her knife work, handing pieces of fruit back and forth to both of the twins, each time emphasizing the fruit and the shape before she’d hand them a new slice. She feels the sticky kiwi covered hand on her collarbone and lets out an audible groan, “That's not very nice, baby blondie.”

Clove glances up to see if Aurelia (maybe) is also covering Cato in the sugary handprints, and is instead met with Cato just staring at her with an adoring depth to his blue eyes. There's half a smile on his face, and he just looks lovestruck. Clove narrows her eyes back at him, shaking her head just a little. “What are you looking at?”

“Just you.” Cato muses, not even phased when a sticky piece of strawberry is shoved towards his mouth as he ducks out of the way. “I’m thinking, that's all. You just look really really good right now. With her.”

Clove hesitates, watching as Aurelia succeeds in shoving a now mushed strawberry into his unsuspecting mouth. Clove truly cannot help but laugh, nose scrunching up as she does so, and it must be infectious as little miss Stella laughs at Clove laughing at Cato.

He clearly decides not to push his luck with whatever he’s thinking about (and Clove, for what it’s worth can connect the dots). “Can you make some big people food, too? I don’t think I can survive on star shaped strawberries.”

“Um Educate yourself, Cato, the strawberries are hearts and the kiwis are the stars.”

“My mistake, how about some triangle shaped steak?”

Clove does make the two of them adult dinner, too. Albeit it all ends up cut into finger foods, consisting of half moon shaped sweet potato slices, perfectly square carrot chips, and yes, even triangular shaped overcooked (“Intentionally Overcooked, you can’t give a baby rare steak, Cato”) slices of steak.

Later, Clove pawns both twins off on Cato so she can rinse the traces of smushed sweet potato and carrot, along with the sweat from her much earlier run, out of her hair and off of her skin. She wins the race to the shower with the simple reminder that she fed them so she gets to have ten minutes to wash handprints off of her skin.

She comes back downstairs more than just ten minutes later, an oversized shirt she borrowed from Cato serving as a dress, wet hair wrapped in a towel atop her head and safely out of the grip of curious little babies. She’s halfway back down the staircase, when she is brought to a stop by the sound of Cato and his one sided conversation.

No, not one sided, but met with avid, nonsensical baby babbles in response.

“See, you roll the ball and it comes back and you have to get it when it comes back, you have to catch it Glimmer Two..Three..Two…Whichever Mini Glimmer.”

Clove peaks her head around the corner, to see Cato sitting less than the length of his legs away from the wall, the twins situated side by side in front of him. He’s rolling a weighted ball into the wall, letting it slowly return and land at the feet of either twin. Once the ball hits one of their feet they squeal in delight, before they both turn back to look at him sets of wide green eyes waiting for him to push it back.

“You can use your legs! Come on, kick it.” Cato tries again, this time grabbing one of their little feet and nudging at the ball, earning delighted giggles from both of them.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Clove interrupts, breaking into a bemused smile as she settles down on the floor beside them. Almost instantly his hand comes up to rest on her knee, squeezing gently before he nudges the ball away.

“This? I used to do this when Cora was little. I didn’t know how to play with her.” He explains, using his other hand to send the ball rolling back towards the baseboard again. “I still don’t know how, apparently.”

“They clearly love it.” She assures him, raising her eyebrows into a playful smile as the girls both lock in their gaze on her instead of the ball. One reaches little grabby hands towards her again, and she offers the baby her finger to hold to tie her over with Cato for just a little bit longer. “You’re good with them. Like…really really really good. You should probably do it more often.”

“I don’t think they’re going to be very athletic, which is kind of shocking considering who they came from..” Cato muses, nodding towards the baby that is so enamored with Clove. “I think they like you, Clovey.”

“They’re six months old, give them time to grow some coordination.” Her smile softens as she leans in and scoops up whoever it is, letting the baby snuggle directly into her arms. “Baby, which one of them is this?”

“I have to be honest Clove, I have no fucking idea.”

“Glimmer will be back for them soon, anyway.” Clove shrugs, taking the opportunity to lay her head on Cato’s shoulder, stifling her own yawn as she watches one of the twins do the same. “This is weirdly exhausting. Not in a bad way. Just..I’m really fucking tired.”

“It’s probably easier if there's only one.” Cato shrugs, gently pushing the ball out of reach and settling the remaining twin in his own arm. “You’re right though. I don’t know how Glimmer is literally always bouncing off of a wall with them.”

“It’s ‘cause they’re all she’s ever wanted.” Clove slurs, stifling another yawn into his shoulder, leaving her forehead pressed into him for just a minute. “It’s like she’s living a dream.”

“I mean…I get it.” He admits, keeping his eyes focused on the baby who was rubbing adamantly at her little tired eyes.

“Yeah?” Clove mumbles in response, resting more and more of her weight against Cato’s arm.

“Yeah.” He reiterates, subconsciously moving his right arm containing the baby, lulling her closer to the sleep she clearly craved. “I think we should talk about-”

Before he can finish his sentence, he feels the bulk of weight sink into his left arm. He glances over to Clove, who has fully slipped to sleep against him, as has the baby who clings to her neck.

“I guess we’ll talk about it later, huh Kiddo?” He whispers to the baby he holds, who is quickly falling asleep herself. Cato surveys between the three of them, and the tired smile he wears falls when he realizes he has more sleeping girls on his hands than he has arms.

It’s..God only knows..how long later when Clove is startled awake by a hand on her shoulder shaking her gently. “Clove..Clove, we’re back.”

She’s jolted awake, really, disoriented and confused. Somehow (Cato) she ended up in the recliner, covered in a thick furry blanket with the baby sprawled out on top of her. Her hand almost instinctively comes to the baby’s head as she’s startled awake, just naturally trying to keep her calm and sleeping in her arms. “Huh, what, what time is it?”

“It’s nine thirty one.” Comes an amused, whispering tone from her left, where Marvel’s hand still rests on her shoulder from where he just shook her awake. “The lights were all off, we knew you had to be asleep. How were they?”

“Fuck, I thought it had to be like three in the morning, what do you mean it’s only nine thirty?” Cato mumbles from across the room, where he’s fully sprawled out on the couch with the other twin asleep on top of his chest.

“We told you we’d only be a few hours..” Glimmer chimes in, the noise of sequins rustling against each other mixed with heels on hardwood announcing her entrance. “Where are my girls, I miss them!”

“Can you whisper, we just got to sleep.” Clove whines, forcing her eyes open as she feels the baby she holds beginning to move and wake at the sound of her parents. She peaks an eye open up at Marvel where he stands over her and can’t help but smirk at the ruffled hair and pink lipstick at the collar of his shirt and dipping underneath. “Looks like you had a good night.”

“Good for you, we didn’t watch them for nothing then. I’m proud of you, Marvel.” Cato mocks, though he doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to make fun of them.

Glimmer’s eye roll may as well have been audible, as she is heard tossing her shoes to the side with an audible thunk as they hit the wall. “You two are the actual worst, now give me Stella. I need her first. We’re just staying here, by the way, it’s too late to take them on the train.”

“It’s nine fucking thirty? Too late, what happened to nights starting at nine thirty” Cato questions, finally forcing himself to a half sitting position so he can fully (playfully) berate their friends.

“It’s fine, you can stay, that's..fine. Whatever.” Clove half heartedly waves a hand off in defeat. “Stella? Do you have a favorite? Is that why you need her first?”

“Don’t be silly, Clove. It’s the schedule. I feed Stella while Marvel gives Aurelia her little bath and gets her ready for bed, and then we switch before they go to sleep. It’s a little routine.” Glimmer explains, kneeling beside Clove with a tired smile. “Which one do you have?”

Cato and Clove freeze, eyes flitting towards the other just momentarily.

“Uh..yeah..I have one of them.” Clove starts, before Cato cuts her off.

“I have no idea, they’re literally identical. You didn’t color code them, how were we supposed to know?”

Marvel’s eyebrows scrunch together in real confusion, looking between their overly-tired friends. “What do you mean, they’re not identical?”

“The fuck do you mean-”

Marvel laughs, not even bothering to stay quiet for the sake of not waking the girls. It doesn’t hurt, though, because as soon as the baby in Clove’s arms hears him she is woken from her dead sleep. She lifts her little head, whipping it as fast as she can to find the source. As soon as she sees him, despite how tired she is, the widest smile breaks out on her baby face. It’s as if Clove is a stranger as soon as the baby sees her dad, when one baby hand comes up to reach for him.

He wastes absolutely no time taking his girl, and if the baby seemed to snuggle into Clove before, she practically melts against Marvel as soon as she is in his arms. If a baby could hold stress she would have just released all of it, snuggling her face into the fabric of his shirt. She absolutely clings to him, babbling softly until she’s effectively nestled into him. “Hi angel baby,” He whispers to her, kissing the top of her curl covered head as she clings to her dad. “Did you miss us too?”

“He’s kidding. But, also, I didn’t think I needed to color code them. Their earrings are their initials.” Glimmer teases, reaching down to just scoop the still sleeping Stella off of Cato. “Stella also likes to talk more, and Aurelia likes to bite on her hands more. I think she’s getting another tooth. Can’t wait for that.” She deadpans, instantly pulling her little blonde baby to eye level and kissing all over her face. Stella giggles, wrapping her little hands around the top of Glimmer’s. “God I missed you, sunshine.”

“I swear they liked us!” Clove defends, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I thought they did.” They had initialed earrings. Of course they did.

“Of course they do, we’re just their parents.” Glimmer promises, before curling up at the end of the couch nearest Clove with Stella absolutely curled up against her. “They’ve never been away from us. They probably thought we were gone forever-”

“Glimmer not this again, please don’t cry-” Marvel pleads, subconsciously swaying back and forth with Aurelia in his arms.

“I’m not crying. I’m just saying. They’ve never stayed with someone else before. Ever.”

“Not that we minded, but, wasn’t it a little freaky to leave them a District away? I thought you would have asked Cashmere, she’s right there?” Clove asks through a yawn, head resting in the palm of her hand as she rests her elbow on the armrest. “Like I said, not that we care but…”

Glimmer gives a tired smile herself, looking away from her daughter and up at Clove. She even spares a glance at Cato before letting out a little sigh. “We could have asked Cash or Gloss, sure. I dunno. They’re great. They would do everything for me. They would have said yes but…”

“We talked about it a lot,” Marvel interjects, giving a little shrug. “We barely wanted to leave them at all.”

“We just…thought they’d be better with you two. We’ve never left them, but if something had happened to us and we never came home…we knew they’d be safe here. You’d take care of them. I dunno, it just felt right. We trust you, we felt the best leaving them with you two. You aren’t like..parents. But you could be.”

“And Cato was going to force us out the door, we knew that too.”

“You’re welcome for that, you clearly benefited, Marvel.” Cato scoffs, but sits forward and digs his hands into his eyes to allow himself to stay awake. Not even ten and he’s fighting sleep, how the hell did he get here from the kid who won the Hunger Games?

“Oh. That's..oh.” Clove whispers, the gravity of their trust in her leaving her borderline speechless. They’ve seen what she was capable of and they still chose her, they still trusted her with the most important part of their lives. “..thank you…”

“At the end of the day, we love Cash and Enobaria but..when it comes to who’s going to do a better job at playing house with our babies..it’s an easy choice. It’s not even a question. You aren’t parents but you could be. Good ones, too.” Glimmer smiles, offering the words with genuine love for her friends. “And Clove knows how to cook, which is a plus too. Speaking of, honey, can you get me a snack?”

“Damn, you got Glimmer asking for food, good for you, you did something right today.” Cato practically jumps off the couch to grab Marvel by the shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. And I’d say thank you, Glimmer, but you’re right. We’ve actually never been less than perfect at anything we’ve ever done ever in our lives. We’re kind of flawless, if you didn’t know!”

“You’re the fucking worst, man.” Marvel mumbles, but does follow Cato’s guidance into the kitchen.

“He is the worst.” Glimmer tells Clove once the boys are gone, tucking her feet up into the couch with her before she shifts Stella in her arms. “Not entirely. I meant what I said. We trust you. And you would be good at it. I know you don’t want to, and I respect that. But you’d be good at it. The girls adore you.”

“...yeah, I know.” Clove admits, curling up on her side, pulling her blanket back up over her shoulder as she turns in her chair to face Glimmer. Before she thinks too long about the fluttery feeling she has in her chest, at the compliments but also just the idea of her own little blondes, she abruptly changes the conversation. “ You’re a good mom, Glimmer. The best, really. But I gotta say,I feel like it’s not the most romantic anniversary in the world, to sleep at your friends’ house with your babies.”

“Clove. I don’t know if we ever would have gotten back together if it weren’t for the girls. We would not be even having an anniversary, let alone married, if it were not for them. They are, quite literally, to thank for that.” Glimmer brushes her perfectly manicured nails over Stella’s curls, keeping her calm and comforted in the safety of her arms. “And you know, I gotta give it to them. You think you can’t love someone any more than you do, right? Like you think you’re living a dream but, Clove, it doesn’t even come close to how much I love him when I see him with the girls. There is nothing, in the entire world, better than waking up next to him with the girls between us. Nothing. It’s quite literally a dream come true. It’s better than a dream, Clove. You think you love someone..but then you make new people to love with them and it’s just…I can’t even describe it, Clove. I can’t describe it. I can only imagine that the reason I survived all of that…nightmare...was to be able to have this life, Clove. I know, it’s not my business, but I hope you get to feel it one day. There is nothing in the world like it. It is so so so worth all of it. They are worth it.”

Clove pauses for a few seconds that to her feels like hours. She could hesitate, she could start listing off all the reasons she absolutely should not (could not), she could list off the million and one unknowns that she and her routines could not account for. Maybe it’s her exhaustion, or maybe it’s the permanent look of Cato giving her that lovestruck look burned into her brain, but she doesn’t offer a refute.

“I believe you,” is all she offers instead.

#arwbfb tag #the hunger games #clato #cato and clove #arwbfb au #always remember we're burned for better tag #glimmer tag #marvel tag #glimmer and marvel tag #clato tag #the twins are the real star of this show #pfsk tag #picket fence is sharp as knives tag

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