wesleynotponcy | Room 504, Laaaaaate Wednesday Night

Katniss hadn't been sleeping, since she'd been sitting anxiously ever since Wesley had left. When she saw him, she gave a soft whistle of concern, fluttering her wings. She couldn't see his injuries well, no, but he was back, and even as a bird, she could see something was wrong.

That whistle of concern was getting so misinterpreted, yes. Wesley hastened (well, as much as a limping person really could hasten) over to where he'd poured food and water into bowls for her. There seemed to be enough left -- Alex must of given her some of each -- but he replenished the food with the remainder in the bag anyway.

"I'm sorry I left so suddenly," he offered, gratefully sinking down onto his bed once that was done. "I didn't realize I'd be, er. Gone for so long. But you're all right?"

Katniss, for once in her life, did not care about food. She sang, trilling softly with worry, as she fluttered over to join him on the bed. She wished she had a better way to talk to him, because finally, something was worrying her more than her own life.

"What happened to you?"

Suddenly, she could speak rather than sing, and her wings were replaced by arms, and Katniss was tucked beside him on the bed, her face etched with concern.

Not that he was likely to be looking at her face. She hadn't quite realized her nudity yet.

...oh.

Wesley blinked, surprised. "Y-- you -- "

Right, swallowing hard. He leaned forward to reach for the blanket on Alex's bed, then let out a quick hiss of pain. That clearly wasn't going to work, so he hastily unzipped his jacket and reached to try to awkwardly drape it around her shoulders.

Revealing a shirt that was maybe a little bit stained with dried blood. Um.

Edited 2011-10-19 19:18 (UTC)

Katniss looked down at herself, and for all her famous modesty...couldn't really bring herself to care right now. Not when he was covered in blood. "Wesley, what happened?" she asked, a note of panic rising in her voice

Edited 2011-10-19 19:39 (UTC)

Wesley wanted to duck his head to avoid meeting her eyes, but that would involve looking there and he was certainly not doing that. So he kept his gaze hovering just slightly off to the side instead. "I -- went to Los Angeles to, er. Help on a case. I -- have I ever told you about Faith? The Slayer I was supposed to train?" He took a long breath, closing his eyes. "She was there. And... determined to prove her strength."

His posture changed as he drew in tighter on himself, shame evident in his body.

"You needn't be concerned," he added, hating how weak his voice sounded.

"Well, I am," she said, tucking the jacket around herself carelessly (that was still a lot of leg, and -- well, she didn't suppose hers could really be called cleavage when it was so sparse, but -- never mind) and leaning in to examine him more closely. For the first time in months, something was taking her attention off her grief. "She did this to you?"

Edited 2011-10-19 20:10 (UTC)

Not looking at her legs, not looking at her legs...

"Yes," Wesley said, clearing his throat against his hand and looking away. He only had the vaguest sense of how he must look -- he knew there was a cut on his lip, since he'd split that himself, and he was vaguely aware of the bruised ribs and injuries on his chest and stomach, but he didn't know about the cut on his cheek or the smaller abrasions on his neck. "I didn't -- that is, I don't mean to trouble you with any of this, truly, I just..."

Felt really shitty? Yeah, Wes. That was clear.

Edited 2011-10-19 20:16 (UTC)

"Are hurt," she finished softly, brushing a little hair off his forehead. "What do you need? Karla gave me some tea to help me sleep, but otherwise -- after morphling, I don't keep painkillers. Do you have anything I could get?"

Wesley thought of the scotch he had in the back of a cabinet. With that thought came a sudden sharp mental reminder of a day he'd spent on the floor not too long ago, and he quickly shook his head to clear that image from his mind.

"No, but thank you," he said softly, offering a faint smile at Katniss. "Do you -- er -- I could get you some clothing? Er. I mean." The dark room might make it hard to detect the slight blush on his face as he added, "If you'd like to stay?"

Katniss blushed, too, feeling her face heat up. "Not much to look at anyway, but I'm -- kind of more worried about you. Can I wear one of your shirts?"

For the first time in months, she didn't want to run away.

Well, Wesley wasn't about to give away Alex's stuff, so.

"Oh, yes, of course," he answered hastily, and reached over to the nightstand to pull an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants out of the drawer. Look, the pants even had a drawstring! Which would probably be about the only way they would ever fit her, so yay that.

"On that note, I should probably change as well," he added, glancing down for the first time at the mess that was the shirt he was currently wearing. "Do you mind?"

"Do you need help?" she asked, once again not really thinking of modesty as she took the clothes from him. She'd seen Peeta naked a dozen times in the arena for similar reasons. "I...can't tell how bad it is."

"I..." Another glance down. It was true that the idea of fumbling to change clothes and possibly exacerbating his injuries in the process wasn't a very welcoming one. He hadn't wanted to ask Angel before he left, not that he'd expected Angel to lend him clothes anyway, but if Katniss was offering... "If you wouldn't mind?"

Katniss tugged his shirt over her head before standing to draw up the pants. She was probably offering quite the eyeful, but like in the arena, she had to prioritize.

"Of course," she said, going to the same drawer he'd taken things from before. "Are you - do you have any open wounds? Have you cleaned anything?"

"I'm not certain," he admitted as he made to unbutton his shirt, relaxing a bit now that Katniss had her clothes on. Now he didn't have to be quite so careful about where he looked. (Even if the view before had been sort of really attractive. As in really.)

"That is," Wesley elaborated, "I cleaned what I could reach last night, but it's possible some of them reopened this evening." When he'd been, you know, hiding from a gun-toting maniac who was entirely different from the knife-toting maniac who'd injured him in the first place. Oh, canon.

"Any alcohol or lotion or something we can use to disinfect them?" she asked, already meandering into the bathroom to look for bandages. Was this a reason to keep from eyeing him as he opened his shirt? Maybe. She'd caught a glimpse as she'd ducked out of the room and felt something stirring in the pit of her stomach, and as much as she'd wanted to linger, he was hurt.

"In the bathroom, most likely," Wesley offered unhelpfully as she disappeared.

Truth be told, he was feeling a bit odd as well. This was such a departure from what he had come to expect -- she was talking and moving around and engaging with him, and she was wearing his shirt, and... well. He'd be lying if he said he didn't support this new development. His heart was beating oddly as he shifted to sit against the headboard, giving her room to do whatever bandaging she needed to do.

Katniss returned a moment later with bandages and rubbing alcohol ~~THAT I MODDED HA HA TRY AND STOP ME~~ and tucked herself up beside him on the bed. She was ignoring how her own heart was beating a little erratically as she surveyed him -- this was...new, but welcome. For the first time in a long time, she felt something other than overwhelming sadness.

"This might hurt," she murmured, pouring a bit of rubbing alcohol onto a cloth before applying it to one of his wounds.

Wesley winced just slightly as it touched his skin, but most of him was preoccupied with the fact that she was touching him and this hadn't happened in so long and for the first time, he felt like she was -- like they were -- on solid ground.

Awkwardly, his heart beating strangely and Katniss' hand still near his chest, he leaned forward to kiss her.

Edited 2011-10-20 00:35 (UTC)

And a week ago, she would have flinched back.

Now, though, with her in his clothes, after he saw her -- well, all of her, and he was so close, and she could feel the warmth from him, and --

And she was finally realizing, and remembering, what it was she'd fought for. Why she'd lost. And what she'd been missing.

So she didn't just kiss him back with her usual tentative shyness. Katniss leaned forward, inhaling sharply as she kissed him back, her fingertips resting lightly on his chest.

She could feel his pulse. It was bizarrely speeding hers up.

What had started out as tentative and awkward was quickly becoming more real -- more comfortable and at the same time, more exhilirating. Wesley shifted forward ~~to try to imitate Katniss' icon~~ to try to draw her closer, letting out a tiny, interested noise as one hand came up to settle on her back.

One arm wound up around his neck, as though entirely of its own accord. Her fingertips brushed through the hair at the nape of his neck, and though it wasn't exactly new territory, it was different somehow. Intimate. She'd gone so long without touching that now she felt starved.

Her other hand rest on his chest. That was sort of new -- Katniss knew about lust, but she hadn't felt it much. This was exciting in a whole new way. It stirred something low in her abdomen, sending a fluttering through her stomach as her skin warmed. It gave her ideas.

It made her want.

So she pressed closer to him, lightly crushing her hand between them as she clumsily deepened the kiss, muffling a sigh against his lips.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, behind the immediate thoughts of yesthisisgood, Wesley realized that he hadn't realized that it could be like this. They'd kissed before, certainly, but never with much fervor, and this... this was on a whole different level entirely.

He parted his lips just slightly, his body instinctively telling him that that was the thing to do, and brought his unoccupied hand to slip between their bodies and take her hand in his, close to his heart.

That elicited a soft noise of pleasure - Katniss hadn't even thought about it - and her fingers wound against his skin, feeling his heart beat against them. Experimentally, she flicked her tongue gently against his lower lip. She wasn't sure why that had seemed like the greatest idea, but it had been, since it sent a new wash of shivers over her. She was new to all this, but some things were instinct.

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