wesleynotponcy | Room 504, Laaaaaate Wednesday Night

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Room 504, Laaaaaate Wednesday Night

Wesley couldn't quite clamp down on the small pained noises that rose instinctively in his throat as he made his way agonizingly slowly up the last set of stairs to the fifth floor. It just figured, didn't it, that his room would be on the top floor when he was in this condition. Well. At least it wasn't too far from the stairwell to his room.

He limped the few steps to his door and unlocked it. He knew that he would have to do inventory of the injuries later, but right now he was focused rather single-mindedly on making sure Katniss had enough food and then collapsing in bed. He rather hoped he'd find her sleeping -- he didn't much fancy the idea of her seeing him like this. It would just be another piece of evidence that he wasn't equipped to take care of someone.

[[For the mockingjay. Up early for probable eventual SP.]]

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"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.

Wesley let out a small, surprised noise at that, feeling pleasured goosebumps rise up on his arms. His lips parted further as if in encouragement, and he interlocked his fingers with hers, trembling faintly at how perfectly satisfyingly intimate it was to feel her heartbeat.

And certainly nothing else in its general vicinity.

Absolutely not.

Which was why Katniss gasped softly into the kiss, pressing closer, more flush against him. She hadn't -- she had always thought her body was powerful, and could help her outrun anyone or step silently through the woods or climb trees. She'd never given thought to how it could feel good as a function.

And so now she was acutely aware of the fact that she was really wearing his clothes and his shirt was unbuttoned and she barely knew what she was doing but she wanted more, still.

Whereas Wesley had come to realize that his body failed him in a lot of significant ways, at least as compared to the supernaturally gifted people who made up so much of his ~~canon~~ life. To be sitting here with her, neither of them superpowered in any regard, and experience this much perfect pleasure... it was unexpected. And exhilirating.

In an uncharacteristic moment of taking the initiative, he moved to bring her closer. Where at this point, closer would pretty much mean... his lap. He wasn't bothered.

Katniss knew what to do, even without ever having really been in a lap before. (Well. There had been that one broadcast after her first Games, but this was nothing like that.) She shifted, as she slid into his lap, to rest one leg at either side of his hips.

Well. She might have known by instinct what to do there, but she didn't know where to go from there. Her mind was racing with possibility, and she shakily skimmed her free hand up to trace his jaw as she kissed him.

And Wesley had never had someone in his lap before either. Especially not while injured.

So it certainly wasn't anything personal when he let out a sharp hiss of something that wasn't exactly pleasure, there, and drew back just a bit. He shifted to correct their positions into something that was a bit less of a strain, then touched his forehead to hers, lips only a minute distance apart.

He didn't know why. That just felt like the thing to do.

"...hello," he murmured, a smile quirking at his lips.

"Hi," Katniss breathed, and yes, it was far more breath than speech. She shifted a little in his lap, looking down in concern. She brushed her nose against his, sighing softly at just being close. "Are -- did I hurt you?"

She obviously wasn't now, or he would have moved her off entirely -- a fact for which she was immensely grateful at the moment.

"All better," he murmured back, sounding almost elated. "And you -- this is -- you're all right?"

She certainly looked all right.

She nodded lightly, smiling softly. "I'm more all right than I've been," she promised quietly, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. She still ached, but it was some far-away part of her. Right now, the living, breathing girl was more important than the burnt mockingjay, and it hadn't been that way in months.

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