Archive of Our Own

“Well your family must have rotten luck… or perhaps the best of all of us. Imagine, a father and son, Victors of the thirty-second and fifty-third Hunger Games.”

Some, who didn’t care enough to think about how the Capitol picked tributes, would call this rotten luck. They’d shake their heads and look to the sky shrugging about twisted fate. But Bradley knew why he was going into the arena, his father had been caught sabotaging Capitol hovercraft parts before they left the assembly line. While his rebel conspirators were hanged promptly, Nick Bradshaw was too popular a Victor to be killed, so Snow did the next best thing and put Bradley in the Games.

His father had apologized profusely but Bradley couldn’t be angry at his father. He was only angry at the man who’d made sure he was selected at the reaping. He was grateful Nick was being forced to be his mentor, as painful as it was to understand, Bradley had been relishing every free moment since the reaping to melt into his father’s arms.

Bradley didn’t squint too much at the bright lights, smiled like he’d been trained and made quick jokes with Caesar. That year he decided to paint his hair, nails, and eyes a pale yellow. It made him look like one of the workers in Six who got sick from the long hours and chemical fumes, and made Bradley suppress a grimace.

Bradley could tell from the audience’s shouts that he was doing it right. The interview passed in a blurr and before he knew it the buzzer had sounded. His time was up.

“May the odds be ever in your favor Bradley.” Caesar chirped. Bradley smiled at the crowd and managed not to throw up until he was safely back stage with the District Six prep team surrounding him.

It was kind of freeing that no one thought Bradley Bradshaw would win. His father had been an underdog, someone who won the Hunger Games by outsmarting his opponents and scavenging for food and water better than others. His arena had been part of a ruined city, one from before the Dark Days, in a sweltering desert with little food or water.

It was not remembered fondly by most Hunger Games commentators, who consider it a dark mark on the reputation of those Gamemakers since most of the tributes died of heatstroke or thirst before they could spill each other's blood. Despite his lackluster Game, Nick Bradshaw was a fan favorite for the capitol. A fun-loving goof from District Six that everyone wanted to be their friend. He was great at playing the part.

But Bradley was not expected to win. In the years since Gamemakers had started building arenas from scratch, and tributes no longer succumbed to the element’s of nature in the rates that they used to and more and more Victors won because of skill and smarts.

He was a skinny sixteen year old from Six who had grown up in the luxury of a Victor’s village. The odds were not in Bradley Bradshaw’s favor. No one was betting on him.

They were proved wrong. Bradley managed to outsmart and outlast his opponents in an arena meant to imitate a frozen tundra. His childhood surrounded machinery came in handy when he jerry-rigged a flame thrower and machete to kill tributes that stepped into his trap. Some called it cowardly, others called it genius. Either way Bradley was not supposed to survive.

He knew he’d been sent there to punish his father, he’d just been naive enough to assume winning meant they’d both get to live.

Nick Bradshaw died one month after Bradley returned to Six. Caught in a factory fire in town. He burned alive before anyone managed to stop the blaze.

Carole Bradshaw died during his Victory Tour. The night he arrived in Twelve, the first stop, Bradley received a telegram stating that she’d passed away from a severe allergic reaction. No one bothered to craft a story about the food Carole Bradshaw had supposedly never eaten before that killed her in minutes.

Bradley smiled for the cameras and played the tragic but clueless orphan. Some days he didn't know why he was staying alive. Maybe he was waiting for something.

At his first Games as a mentor Bradley was brought into the rebel’s fold. His father’s name garnered trust and led to his participation in various failed schemes. Having no one left to lose was good, it made him feel much better about his potential as a rebel. With no one left to lose they had nothing over him, he didn’t care anymore if he lived or died.

Jake's father used to believe that having a Victor in the family could get them into the Capitol. They were one of the many families in District One that had mixed heritage, Capitol and District blood running through their veins much to his father’s pride. Jake’s grandfather used to travel between the Districts and the Capitol on business, and it was part of how the Seresin’s built their wealth. After the war though, with that connection cut off and his grandfather dead, the family struggled to return to its former glory.

Winning the Games, according to his father, would restore the Seresin family name. If that was the case why hadn’t his father volunteered decades earlier? Jake would wonder to himself in his most bitter moments.

Regardless he couldn’t let his sisters do it. Jake knew he would be volunteering for the reaping. It was a fact, it was his future. Just as surely as the sun would rise the following day, Jake knew he would be in the arena because that is what his father wanted.

He was one of the biggest and strongest tributes that year. Betting odds on Jake were 2:1 from the moment he was reaped, to his score of a 10 from the Gamemakers, to his fifth and final day in the arena.

Jake won like most careers do: with brutality. He had simple motivations, to get back to his sisters, to make sure his Ma didn’t have to spend the rest of her life alone with his father. It propelled him through his thirst, his injuries, and helped him try to justify killing eight of the tributes with his own hands.

He also didn’t make it out unscathed. An arrow to the back of his calf left him with a slight limp even after the Capitol surgeons removed all traces of scar tissue.

When he came back home there was a rowdy celebration in One. Children stuffed their faces with Capitol candy and the poorer district citizens got to take home large rations of fresh grains, meat, and fruit. Many of the people in One thought they were too good to receive the Capitol’s charity, they didn’t claim their packages, even though Jake knew most people in One were barely scraping by. The food spoiled in the oppressive August heat.

In that moment, looking on at the welcome celebration in his honor, Jake wondered what would be happening right now if the boy from Eleven had won. If Jake hadn’t smashed the boy’s head against a stone during their struggle, these food parcels probably wouldn’t be going untouched by district citizens who thought their wealth set them apart from everyone else.

His doubts washed away when he found his sisters in the crowd. He held them tightly and cried for the first time since he’d been announced as Victor. He was home and had done exactly as he’d needed to to survive.

His father had been wrong. Winning the games got them a residence in the Victor’s Village and nothing more. His father was fuming about this and took his complaint to the Peacekeeper’s headquarters after a particularly long night of drinking and losing their money.

The next morning they saw his father hanging from a Capitol pole. No one mourned him for very long.

Years later, commentators would complain about the lack of originality in the Sixty-First Arena. They would later say it was part of a trend dubbed the Six-Career-Slump by Caesar Flickerman.

Despite this, the Capitol loved Jake. He was their darling, their golden boy with the white teeth, blonde hair, and piercing eyes that propelled him to star status by his Victory tour.

The looks that had carried him through adolescence and then given an advantage in the interviews and garnered so many sponsors soon became something Jake despised. They treated him like a prized pig, calling him beautiful while they patted him on the head and bopped his nose.

The truth about his Victor responsibilities was made apparent during the Victory Tour. He was pulled aside by Chiffon, One’s Victor from a decade prior and the woman who’d helped him win the games.

“Listen Jacob we protected you from this as long as we could. But there are things you need to know, things you’ll need to do here in the Capitol.”

Then she explained. Jake knew what sex was, of course he did, but it was impossible to understand what would be expected of him. One of the President’s friends bid on his virginity, the man wanted Jake for the night and he had to play the part or his family would be killed. For the rest of the tour Chiffon and the members of his team traveling with him started to teach him tricks of the trade.

For the first time, laying in bed as the train hurtled towards District 12, Jake thought his sister’s would have been better off if he died in the arena. He also realized that his Victor talent, one suggested by a Capitol minder, of modeling fashions was probably an intentional choice.

Jake wanted to burn down the train car. He opted to drink a sleeping syrup instead.

The first time was the worst one. That’s what Jake thought until he met with a woman who liked to watch him whimper. Then he met a man who asked to touch his feet while he ate rich foods, affirming him like a nervous pet. Some of them delighted in the novelty of having someone so young and fresh faced. Others wanted him to play the district brute in bed. Whatever the scenario, whatever their reasons, it always left Jake feeling the same way after.

His clients probably talked too. Jake had no way of knowing if they recorded videos or audio clips when he met them. The reality was suffocating. Other Victors, the ones who had similar fates as he did, offered their advice and condolences. The affirmation that the first year would likely be the worst, since his novelty would soon tarnish. But as his year as reigning Victor drew to a close the calls didn’t stop, he was on the train to and from the Capitol at least once a week and some of his regulars had started promising they wouldn’t forget about him when the next Games aired.

But Jake carried on. His sisters were safe as long as he did what was asked. His mother was able to live out her days in the Victor’s Village as long as he smiled for the cameras. Jake Seresin could do what he needed to for them.

Jake met Bradley Bradshaw for the first time during his Victory Tour. The older Victor had been drunk as a skunk at the celebratory dinner in district 6 and Jake managed to dodge him.

They crossed paths a few more times, once during the Capitol celebration at the end of his Tour and again on the opening Reaping Day of the following year’s games as Six and One were close enough to the Capitol they arrived the same day children were picked.

They spoke for the first time on the final day of the games which culminated in a showdown between the male tributes from Districts Two and Eleven. As they watched the bitter end Bradley sidled up to Jake and made himself comfortable on the District One couch.

Sober Bradley Bradshaw was nothing like he’d expected. That Victor’s charm melted Jake’s walls and they fell into conversation with one another quickly. The pair ended up chatting the rest of the day and found themselves gravitating towards one another throughout the rest of the celebrations for the Games.

He was charming and easy to talk to. They decided to meet again when they needed a conversation partner and exchanged telephone numbers, something Jake had never done before. While other people in One had telephones, they were only ever really used for business.

The New Victor needed a few days to recuperate before making an appearance, which left the rest of them waiting in the training center. The lul lead to someone inevitably calling on Jake, a man he’d been delivered to before.

Hours after he’d been called on, Jake stumbled into the District One apartment, with his now year-old leg injury throbbing and his skin tender where he knew bruises would form. He dropped his keycard and gasped when he saw that Bradley was there. Jake wanted to smack himself, remembering that they’d agreed to play cards and he hadn’t canceled.

Bradley set his book down and walked towards Jake. “If this is a bad time I can um I can leave.” Then started heading for the door.

Jake swallowed. “You can stay. I-if you want to.”

“If you’re sure.”

Jake nodded. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Bradley stayed. He waited patiently in the living room while Jake cleaned himself up.

Jake took a scalding shower and made use of the creams and potions available to make himself presentable. He sat under the shower head until his fingers pruned and all he could feel was heat, forgetting the hands that pressed into him for even a moment.

He pulled himself out of the shower once he had fully melted into the floor and no longer felt his body. Dripping water on the tiles and wrapped in a fluffy robe Jake noticed the red patch of skin under his eye that was sure to turn black in a few hours. Great.

When he stepped out of the bathroom in soft clothes Bradley was sitting at the dinner table in front of steaming serving dishes. “I didn’t know what you like so I just got what I usually want late at night. They’re comfort meals from District Six, I hope they’re not too different from what you like.”

Jake assessed the offering and noticed creamy mashed potatoes, juicy chicken, a large container of gravy, and a pitcher of something that he guessed was a type of juice. His mouth watered. He hadn’t eaten anything since the morning and his stomach was gurgling. “It looks great. Thank you.”

Bradley’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked pleased to have done something right. He plated generous helpings for Jake and set it down next to him. Bradley didn’t make a plate for himself or start eating. This was all for Jake. It made him ache, thankfully the tears had dried up since his shower.

Accompanied by the clinking of his silverware, Jake polished off his plate in record time. He thought about having a second helping before shaking himself of the notion. He needed to stay trim and didn’t want to know what was in the potatoes to make them so heavenly.

Jake set his silverware in the sink and turned to Bradley and clapped his hands. “So, Cards?”

Bradley grinned and pulled a deck from his pocket. Then he set about explaining the rules of the game he loved. It was a traditional game from District Six, centuries old apparently and one of the only ones Bradley knew the rules to off the top of his head. Jake had never heard of it but didn’t care.

“It’s called Euchre, it uses this special deck and it’s really meant to be played with four players but there’s a two handed version I’ll teach you. Unless you want to play something else.”

Jake shook his head and let the instructions to the game wash over him. It was pretty easy to pick up.

After the first hand was dealt. Bradley coughed a little. “It doesn’t change anything by the way. I still want to be your friend, chatting with you during these Games has been real nice.” Jake froze, the cards in his hands about to be crushed. “If it helps, which I doubt it will, I know this happens to a lot of Victors. It’s nothing I haven't seen before.”

Jake flinched and Bradley dropped the subject for the rest of the night. They widdled away the hours playing two-handed euchre until Jake’s eyelids were too heavy to keep up. Bradley read off their scores and ended the game there, promising they’d have a rematch soon. Then he helped Jake into bed and tucked him in tight. Jake fell asleep smiling, thinking about his future rematch against Bradley.

Bradley called five days later. He’d arrived in Six the night before and shared the details of his trip. It was nice to have confirmation that their night together had been real, that they’d really exchanged telephone numbers. The cards and the potatoes weren’t a dream concocted by his lonely and addled mind. He sounded almost nervous when Jake picked up the receiver, asking if it was a good time or if Jake even wanted to hear from him.

Then were on the phone for an hour, talking and laughing until Jake’s mother called him for supper.

“Gotta go.”

“Same time next week?”

The phone calls became part of their routine. Seeing one another when they were both in the Capitol did too.

Bradley was always there after Jake met with someone. Always ready with zero questions, a warm smile, a plate of food or the offer of a game they could play to distract Jake.

Jake caught himself staring at Bradley in the way he knew was wrong. Growing up in One he’d never been able to talk about girls like the other boys could. No adults seemed to mind, they just thought he was being a gentleman, but some of his peers had given him odd looks. Jake wasn’t blind, Bradley was handsome. He’d grown into his looks since his Games, with a fuller face and broader shoulders. He wasn’t in great shape, Jake knew his routine consisted of long walks and heavy drinking, but that didn’t matter. His eyes crinkled when he smiled and his mustache looked soft. He started to daydream about how it would feel to be held by Bradley as he fell asleep and found comfort in his notes and letters during the weeks they couldn’t talk. The daydreams evolved, picturing Bradley’s hand when he touched himself or trying to picture the feeling of Bradley's stubble against his jaw. It all felt so wrong, he was betraying their friendship, but he couldn’t stop.

Jake never pictured Bradley when he was with someone else. It made his insides roil and his conscience heavy to even imagine Bradley as one of the men who used his body.

Despite his personal promise not to cross that line Jake felt the pull towards Bradley grow stronger.

The dam burst on a late night in Bradley’s Capitol apartment.

Bradley was always cagey about his Capitol business, never explaining why he was in the city but always inviting Jake over if their schedules aligned. Jake suspected that he was involved with the rebels. He’d heard rumors about Nick Bradshaw’s death and had a feeling Bradley was following in his footsteps. Jake also knew that the other Victors would never let him into their inner circle, a golden boy from One was never going to be trusted with rebel secrets. It stung to think Bradley still didn’t fully trust him. It would probably take more time.

They were drinking. Sprawled out on the plush rug next to Bradley’s fireplace passing a bottle back and forth. Their fingers brushed when Jake reached for the bottle and it sent a thrill up his spine. He gulped and Bradley never pulled away.

Then they were on one another. A frenzy of tongues and teeth, hands ripping away clothes and groping each other desperately.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” Bradley said when they were done. Lying on their backs and catching their breath by the

“That was the only sex I’ve ever had.” Jake murmured.

Bradley opened his mouth as if to argue before he snapped his jaw shut.

“It’s the only time I’ve wanted it. So it’s what I’m going to count as my first time.” Jake clarified. He faced away from Bradley and looked into the glowing embers. “I had stirrings inside me for the other boys when I was younger, but it’s not something done in One. Then all of this, it’s not something I do either, it happens to me. So this was my first time. Thank you for a good first time.”

Bradley shut his mouth and didn't argue semantics. Instead he crawled over and wrapped his arms around Jake, slotting himself against the man’s back. They watched the embers die as Jake kept talking. He spilled his secrets for the first time and told Bradley everything. He talked about what he’d been made to do, his sisters he was doing it for, and how badly he wanted to burn the Capitol down so it would never happen to another Victor again.

The sex became a regular thing between them. Whenever they were in the Capitol or on the same Tour they found dark corners and quiet rooms to make theirs.

The phone calls and letters continued as well. Only now more frequently and with no discussion of their true relationship.

Bradley also started telling Jake about the plots he and other Victors were working on. It had taken some convincing before he was brought to a meeting, but Bradley’s insistence eased their nerves about letting a Career District boy into the fold.

Falling in love with Jake was like sinking in quicksand. Bradley knew how dangerous it was. He knew how foolish he was to love someone again. But before he knew it was happening Bradley was neck deep in love.

He said it for the first time a few years later. Maybe it was cowardice but Bradley hadn’t known how to say it sooner. Huddled together in a coat closet, away from the festivities for this year’s Hunger Games, Bradley whispered as quiet as he could.

“I love you.”

Jake grinned and kissed him forcefully. “You’re the only one for me.” He whispered, catching his breath, then pushed Bradley further into the coat closet.

Bi-weekly phone calls.

Late night card games during the Games.

Attempts to ingratiate themselves to gamemakers and gain access to arena secrets.

Their friendship in the tabloids.

Bradley the drunk and permanent bachelor.

Jake, the diamond of the Capitol, thirsted after and wanted.

Mentoring tributes only to watch them die.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, but it was the life they had.

The crowd was in hysterics when Bradley got down on one knee to propose to Natasha.

“Will you make me the happiest man in Panem?”

She squealed just as she’d practiced and clapped her hands, flesh and prosthetic, together. “Oh Bradley yes yes yes!” Kneeling before her, Bradley was struck by how great of an actor Natasha really was.

A month prior Bradley had been informed in no uncertain terms that he needed to settle down and marry a nice girl as soon as possible. Rumors about his status as a perpetual bachelor and some bad press when he yelled at a Capitol visitor to Six led to the ultimatum. Mentions of exposing his illicit activity or doing something worse to Jake were enough to show him this was necessary.

Natasha found him after the news was delivered, drinking himself into a stupor. Bradley had picked up the bottle as soon as the line went dead and was well on the way to emptying it when she ripped it from his hands. He couldn’t imagine bringing someone into his sham of a life, but he didn’t want to die. He also didn’t want Jake to be alone or have something worse done to him.

He’d spilled his secrets to her then. Natasha was young, District Six’s Victor from this year’s games who turned eighteen during her Hunger Games. She was fierce and had become a Capitol favorite for her fiery personality. Enough of a favorite that she was still the face of that Spring’s fashion trends after claiming the talent of Stylist. Her right hand amputation, something generally considered disgusting by Capitol citizens, wasn’t enough to curb her popularity. Bradley used Natasha’s fire to get her life saving sponsorships, but that spark in her eye quickly became a pain in Bradley’s ass. She pushed him all the time and never put up with his wallowing. “I lost my family in a factory accident. You don’t see me blacking out every night do you?” She’d ask him tersely.

So when Natasha prodded about the phone call he told her everything. He explained the ultimatum from the President that sent him spiraling and why it was having such an effect.

She listened to it all, letting him finish and catch his breath before she spoke. “Why don’t we get married?”

He blinked at her. “We can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Bradley spluttered. “Because. I-I was your mentor! That’s just wrong. Besides, who would believe it?”

She hummed to herself thinking. “We caught feelings on the Victory tour. Late nights spent traveling the country we just grew closer.” She nodded, seeming to grow more confident in her new story. “We kissed for the first time after a private dinner and you swept me off my feet. But we’ve kept it secret of course because you were waiting till the tour was over and didn’t want to expose something before it was serious.”

Bradley couldn’t believe how plausible that sounded. She was right the Capitol would eat that up. Star crossed lovers who were itching to get hitched. “You really don’t have to do this. I can’t suck you into my life.”

“I was in the Games too asshole. I’m in this life. Besides, I'm not exactly perfect either.”

“You won’t want me to actually–” Bradley trailed off. It felt like he was discussing this with his sister. The idea of fucking Natasha made his stomach roil.

She snorted and started laughing. “No no oh my god I don’t want to have sex with you Bradshaw. They won’t expect us to either, if we’re a prim and proper couple we can keep everything behind closed doors.”

He nodded. “Are you sure? I don’t want to force you to be alone. If we do this we’ll have to play the happy couple for the rest of our lives.”

“I’m not alone. In fact I’m a lot like you Bradshaw.” A glint of something dangerous flashed in her gaze. “I understand your friendship with Jacob Seresin much better than you might think.”

He tilted his head, confused.

She laughed at his obvious cluelessness. “Well ok I’ll explain it like this. You know my maid? The girl I pay to keep my house and yours.”

Bradley shook his head, he hadn’t paid much attention to Natasha or whoever cleaned his house since she arrived in the village.

“Well her name is Callie, and she isn’t really my maid. She lives with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So Bradshaw, believe me when I say I think we could both benefit from this marriage.”

Bradley nodded. It made sense that there were women like him and Jake. That they had the same thing inside them that everyone thought labeled a wrongness, he’d just never thought about it before.

“I guess it’s a deal.”

They shook on it.

Then Natasha put him to bed with a bucket by his side.

He called his team and told them about the engagement the next day. Natasha had been right, their story about catching feelings during the Victory Tour went down people’s gullets smoothly.

They got engaged during a special broadcast about District Six’s industry, the propaganda didn’t slow when there wasn’t a Game to cover. He got down on one knee at the time they’d all rehearsed and everyone said it looked real.

The wedding was a month later and another spectacle. Leaders from the District, sponsors from both of their Games, other Victors, and even the President himself were in attendance. As Bradley stood at the altar looking out over the faces of the crowd he never spotted Jake. If their roles were reversed would he have gone to Jake’s sham wedding? Maybe not. Either way he missed Jake fiercely and the guilt of not explaining himself before the engagement was eating him alive.

Bradley had called Jake several times, but there was never an answer anymore.

Then they were married. It was easy and oddly anticlimactic. Everyone cheered and he got a polite nod from Snow as he left, they must have done a good job.

The following days were a whirlwind of activity with more interviews, televised specials about every detail of their wedding, and constant questions about kids. Natasha was better at dodging those questions than he was and everyone seemed charmed by them.

No one in the Capitol seemed to think he was a creep, but people in District Six certainly did. They were not welcomed back to Six warmly, and Bradley especially was now more of a parriah than ever before.

When he went to the market he got a smack upside the head and called a pervert by the owners. He walked out with his hands and wallet empty and a promise not to return. It was fine, he reminded himself. This was all for Jake’s safety, and for Natasha now too. He could pay a kid from town to buy the stuff for him anyways so he would be fine too.

A few people would still sell him things, his money was as good as anyone else's, but they didn’t look happy about it.

Once the dust settled their life returned to normalcy. The routine barely changed, it just now included cohabitation.

They loved each other in their own way. Most days they shared meals and listened to the radio together before nightfall.

Natasha worked in town, doing favors for older folks and keeping her hands busy. Bradley resumed his pre-Jake vocations of drinking and wandering around.

They slept in separate beds. Callie was given a room as their live-in maid, but it was never slept in. The house was staged perfectly though as if they were a happy couple, just in case someone ever stopped by.

Bradley called Jake every day and still hadn’t received an answer. Maybe he’d unplugged the thing, there wasn’t anyone else Jake knew who owned a phone. Each day the ache in his chest grew sharper, he missed his conversation partner. He always missed Jake in the months they didn’t cross paths, but this was different. Maybe they would never be together again.

The early months of their marriage passed in a haze, from Spring into Summer and suddenly it was time for another reaping.

District Six’s tributes were thirteen and fourteen this year. Bad odds. Bradley had already accepted the responsibility of mentoring them both as much as possible as Natasha knew them from school.

Arriving at the Training Center Bradley found himself fleeing to the welcoming party in a way he never had before. Jake had to be there, he was always at things like this.

When he finally saw Jake under the flashing lights his mouth went dry. Jake was holding court with some sponsors by the bar, and the Seresin charm was in full effect as they were practically eating out of his hand.

Bradley pushed through the crowd and stayed a measured distance away, trying not to draw attention as he waited for them to lose interest and wander off before he confronted Jake. When his opportunity came he sprang and found himself slapping Jake on the shoulder with a grin. Playing the parts of Victor Best Friends like he always did. Like nothing had happened in the six months since they’d last spoken.

“Jake man, how are you?” Why haven’t you answered me? I was so worried. I couldn’t tell what you’d think of me. “I can’t wait to catch up, let me get you a drink.”

Jake narrowed his eyes and pulled away. “Shouldn’t you be spending this time with your wife? She’s a brand new mentor this year isn’t she?”

Bradley’s jaw dropped. He knew Jake would be frustrated about this but he thought he’d understand. “Jake. Don’t be like this.”

He pulled Bradley’s hand off his shoulder and glared. “I'm just sad I never got to congratulate the happy couple. I didn't know my best friend was getting married until I saw the proposal on the news.”

“You’re right, I'm sorry. I can't tell you how many times I picked up the phone but had no idea what to say.”

“Well water under the bridge I guess. Besides I need to go.” 

He’d never seen Jake like this. Bradley stopped him, grabbing his collar and stopping him from walking away. Bradley finally got a good look in his eyes and wanted to scream. His eyes were cold and glassy. Jake always had that look before someone paid for his time, he’d probably already taken the pills he kept in his prep bag. It made him looser, slower, and less focused.

“I have to go, Bradshaw.” Jake snapped. The pills didn’t curb his anger apparently.

“Can I see you later? I can explain it all. There’s so much I want to tell you.”

Jake brushed off Bradley’s hand and straightened his suit jacket. Then he reached for a bright red shot and threw it back. He shook himself and made eye contact with Bradley once more. “I should be back at the training center around 11:30.”

“Ok great!” Bradley pulled back and forced himself to calm down. He was a man dying of thirst who’d just been offered a glass of water at the end of the night, but he needed to stay cool. “I can meet you on the first floor.”

Jake nodded and walked away.

At eleven o’clock Bradley found the first floor apartments of the training center and let himself in. The other District One Victors knew about them at this point and didn’t say anything when he came in.

Bradley wrung his hands and felt himself sober up as he waited.

Forty-seven minutes later Jake slinked through the door and shut it quietly.

When he noticed Bradley, who was now standing by the stairs, he pulled up short. “Oh. You came.”

“Of course I did. I was serious and I wanted to talk.”

Jake exhaled and laughed bitterly. “You didn’t want to talk before you decided to marry that girl. Which by the way she is a girl, you were her mentor Bradley.” He seethed in a stage whisper.

“Jake, I can explain. Why don’t we go outside?”

Acknowledging the fact they didn’t need to be heard by anyone else from District One’s entourage Jake let himself be led to the large balcony that wrapped around their floor of the building.

“So do you fuck her? Did you think about fucking her when she was in the arena?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well then you must have fucked her during the Tour.”

“No.”

Jake squinted at him and didn’t seem satisfied. Taking him in fully for the first time, standing abreast, leaned against the railing, Bradley noticed a bruise where his dress shirt peeked out of his trousers.

“It’s just for the cameras. You of all people should know how that works.”

“It just seemed so real. She’s so young and perky and you’ve told me you fancied a girl once.”

“That doesn’t matter. I also don’t fancy her.”

“Just seemed like it.”

“Snow said that if I don’t marry a nice girl and settle down there would be consequences. She offered to help me out, and she has her own skeletons she needs to hide. We’re just friends, she’s like my little sister. So we did what we had to, you of all people should understand that.”

Jake winced but didn’t rise to the bait. “Still doesn’t make it right.”

“You’re right, I should have told you before. I didn’t tell you before the public engagement, I just couldn’t think of what to say and that was cowardly. I’m sorry. But you also never answered when I called all those times since. I tried to tell you.”

Jake shuddered. “I unplugged the phone the fourth time you called. I couldn’t bear to hear you say you were in love with her. It felt easier not to answer.”

Bradley reached up to wipe the tear from Jake’s eye. “I don’t love her. Not like that. You know you’re the only one I have eyes for. I only did that because they gave me an ultimatum, they said they’d expose you, ruin your reputation.”

Jake sniffled and forced a smile. “I’m sorry for being so hard on you about this.” He sighed. “It just hurt. We could have a real good life together if someone would let us and I think I’m just mourning that. I was told I’ll never be allowed to marry during my first year as a Victor. I also received an envelope with photographs of us right before your engagement.” His voice wobbled. “I knew they were threatening me but couldn’t figure out why.”

Bradley hugged him, he wanted to fuse their bodies together and make sure he was never without Jake. This was as close as they could get.

“I’m not supposed to settle down. I need to remain an eligible bachelor as long as they want to pay for… me.”

Bradley shuddered and squeezed him tighter.

They stood together, swaying in the wind until their ears were numb.

“We need to go back to our Tributes. It’s a big day tomorrow.” Jake said, tear tracks dry.

Bradley nodded. “But I’ll see you.”

“Of course.”

Both of their tributes died in the bloodbath that week. This led to the two of them spending every moment they didn’t have to be on camera curled up together in bed. Making up for lost time.

They got away with their absences since the responsibilities of a mentor who’s tribute passed were minor. It also helped that people seemed tired of the Bradley and Natasha show.

They were in the apartment Bradley usually had access to. Officially now his and Natasha’s residence, but only used by the two of them as Natasha made herself scarce as soon as they arrived.

Jake loved spending time there, in a space that they could pretend was just theirs. He liked to imagine a world where he and Bradley didn’t have to hide. He would imagine the good life they would have together, owning a small cottage nestled in the woods. Sometimes the fantasy hurt too much to bear. But that night it didn’t hurt, it was comforting to learn about Bradley’s home and imagine how he’d slot himself in there.

“Did you know Victor’s village in Six overlooks a lake?” Jake knew this was a rhetorical question and hummed while he listened to his man. “Some of the houses, the one I grew up in at least, are right against the water and have docks that you can tie a small boat to, or jump off into the water when it’s warm. I always loved to do that in the summers.” He sounded wistful.

“That sounds nice.” Jake wasn’t just saying that. He’s never been around many bodies of water, other than the one in his arena. It would be pleasant, he thought, to live next to a body of water that didn’t hold danger or death inside. Where you could relax on the beach without fear of ambush or drowning. “The Village in One was set up at the edge of the district, close enough to the border you can faintly see the skyline of Capitol.” He paused. “I think it’s meant to be comforting or aspirational, since everyone in One is obsessed with how we’re the ‘least district district’.” Jake emphasised the phrase with a thick, put-on District One accent, the one his parents always used when they tried to impress visiting Capitol clients that never quite captured the Capitol’s signature lilt.

“That sounds awful.” Bradley said. “Being so close to them all the time.”

“It’s whatever.” Jake pushed off his side and draped himself over Bradley’s torso. “But your lake sounds much nicer than our mountain view. Tell me more about it.” Jake wanted to push away from discussion of the Capitol tonight. This was their time together.

“We know it’s a lake because they tell us in school. But it’s actually so big you can’t see the other end of it.”

Jake furrowed his brow. “A lake you can’t see the end of when you stand on the dock? I don’t know about that.” He knew there were never-ending bodies of water on opposite sides of Panem, everyone did and they’d seen grainy pictures of them when they learned about District Four, but he had a feeling Bradley was yanking his chain. No Lake was that big.

Bradley nodded. “Yep, they're huge. Back in the old days, before the war and maybe even the dark days they used to send ships across it for trade. But well now no one lives on the other side I guess.” He considered it for a second, recognizing that if there were people outside of Panem they’d have no way of knowing. “I’ll bring you a picture next time we meet. Can’t believe I never talked about this. It’s really breathtaking in the summer season.”

Jake hummed into Bradley’s neck.

“I wish I could take you there. I wish I could do more than show you pictures.” Bradley was running his fingers up and down Jake’s back.

“I wish you could too.” Jake’s voice caught in his throat, choking on how much they couldn’t do.

“Maybe one day.”

“Maybe.” Jake didn’t want to face the truths of that statement. The things that would have to change for a boy from District One to travel to District Six to see Bradley’s lake. The bloodshed needed before the walls around their homes were taken down was almost too much to bear.

Their life returned to normal. As if the wedding had never happened.

Bi-weekly phone calls.

Late night card games during the Games.

Bradley the doting husband.

Mentoring tributes only to watch them die.

One of their allies was caught and hung on a national broadcast.

Public opinion of Bradley gradually improved in Six after Natasha made it clear to everyone that he was treating her right. Not everyone was happy about their age difference but it was being tolerated, and his ban from the market was rescinded.

More Games, more tributes, more deaths.

Natasha fabricated a story about struggling to conceive so they would stop hounding them about babies.

Jake mentored a new Victor.

District Six lost every child they sent.

The Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games came and went, and with it more rumors of revolution. All of the failed attempts to break the arenas, all of the plots Bradley and Jake had tried to bring forward with that never saw the light of day. Maybe it was finally time.

When snow announced the Quarter Quell Bradley felt every drop of hope leak from his body. They were going back in.

Bradley and Natasha were Six’s only living Victors.

While Callie rocked Natasha and tried to calm her, Bradley reached for the phone.

Jake picked up on the second ring.

“We’re going back in.”

“Yes we are.”

“Maybe you won’t be picked.”

“Maybe.”

Jake was reaped.

They were going back into the arena and knew they were not likely to make it out.

Despite the Victor’s best efforts the Games were not cancelled. Their outrage, sorrow, and Nat’s pregnancy announcement did cause a stir. But the show would go on.

They knew the plan. Everyone knew how important it would be to break the arena. There were promises to get them out, to cut the trackers from their arms and rescue them. They both knew how unlikely it was that they’d both stay alive.

Rising into the arena, greeted by an oppressive heat and choking humidity, they only had one thought on their mind; get the other out.

They didn’t save Bradley.

Jake was protecting the tree when the arrow flew. Bradley was a hundred yards away defending himself against Jake’s District One partner when the lights went out.

Jake was barely conscious when they extracted him. He could see sparks and feel metal enclosed around him as they lifted him into the air. His vision was red and there was something wet dripping down his face. Someone was screaming.

When he woke up on the hovercraft they broke the news. He was restrained and sedated by the others before he could exacerbate his injuries further.

Jake served the rebellion in District Thirteen. He followed his schedule, ate when he was told, and used the secrets he’d collected over the past decade to try and help.

Despite Jake’s poor mood things were going well. There was hope in the air, hope he hadn’t felt in a lifetime.

Seeing Bradley on the projector screen knocked the wind out of him and removed all positive feelings he had.

That morning the rebellion had managed to take out the major Peacekeeper outposts that outfitted troops in the outlying districts. It seemed this was the Capitol’s response.

Jake's immediate thought was that Bradley, if it even was him, looked wrong. He was clean shaven, his hair was high and tight like a Peacekeeper, and he was far too thin. As he kept watching the transmission, as Bradley begged the rebels to surrender and thanked the Capitol for saving his life, Jake noticed even more. Bradley’s hands were shaking, small movements barely hidden behind the bouquet of white roses on the table. Jake also noticed thin scars on criss-crossing Bradley’s face and neck that had never been there before.

At least he was alive.

That fact didn’t bring Jake much comfort.

It was almost too easy to rescue Bradley. He and the other Victors were being held in the basement of the training center and there was no one guarding it when they arrived. Jake knew he was walking into a trap, but the prospect of finding Bradley propelled him forward despite his uneasiness.

They found the Victors’ cells easily. None of them were locked.

When his flashlight found Bradley the man was unrecognizable. His head was shaved, his body was somehow thinner than when they last saw him on a broadcast. Skin and bones. He was curled up in a ball on a small cot, its sheets stained with blood.

When Jake stepped closer he noticed a glint of metal on Bradley’s torso. Jake felt a flash of recognition. He’d seen these before, metal ports embedded in someone’s chest and used for long term drug treatments or major injury recovery. It was probably pumping him full of drugs twenty-four seven and the reason he was still asleep despite the chaos of their rescue mission.

Bradley didn’t stir when Jake nudged him. So he scooped him up and carried Bradley out of the cell over his shoulder. A task made easy by his months of starvation.

Jake was dismissed when he dropped Bradley off with the medical team. He understood that in the chaos of their rescue and certain retaliation to come from the Capitol that he should be out of their way. He still wanted to be near.

Jake didn’t get to see Bradley for another five days. The doctors rushed him into surgery to remove the pump from his chest as soon as they arrived. Then he took another day to wake up. They were weaning him off of whatever the Capitol was giving him and it wasn’t pretty. Bradleys day consisted of medical tests, IVs, puking up the bile in his stomach, and sleep. Thankfully it was mostly sleep.

When he was deemed healthy enough to have visitors Jake could’ve kissed the doctor. They could finally be together again.

Jake almost cried when he walked into the hospital room. Bradley was propped up in his bed, eyes clear and alert. His eyes flickered to Jake and Bradley froze. His body went rigid and he stopped breathing.

They’d warned him to expect nervousness from Bradley. But nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

“Get away from me!” Bradley shrieked and started to scramble off the bed, disturbing the medical equipment around him and scattering instruments on the floor with a loud bang.

“Bradley it’s me.” Jake choked. “Calm down darlin’ it’s gonna be alright.”

Bradley didn’t look at him. He slid on the floor and hunched over himself in the corner. He pressed his palms to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He’d disturbed his stitches in his panic, blood was seeping into the bandages on his chest.

Jake kneeled down before him and tried to calm him down. “Bradley, can you look at me? It’s Jake. Baby you’re safe.”

Bradley timidly cracked his eyes open then let out a loud keening noise when he looked into Jake’s eyes. A stream of No’s spilled out of him and he started rocking back and forth.

There were hands on Jake’s shoulders, pulling him away from Bradley. They shoved him out of the room while other doctors appeared and started the process of settling Bradley back in bed.

Jake was shoved into the hallway without explanation.

Hours later one of the doctors found Jake and sat down in one of the stiff metal chairs for visitors.

“What’s going on? None of the others are like that.”

“From what we’ve gathered the past few days, all of them were tortured in a unique way. We knew that one of the substances in his blood stream was Tracker Jacker venom, we now think we know why.”

“What are you saying?”

“They warped his memories somehow. They convinced him that you hurt him, that you abused him sexually. He told us he doesn’t want to be near you and it took a lot of convincing to make him trust the hospital staff since he thinks we’re harboring his torturer.”

“But that’s crazy. We’re friends. We’re just friends. It's well known.”

“Yes, well that may be the problem. Perhaps they targeted the two of you because of your relationship.” She paused, deep in thought for a moment. “Was that the full extent of your relationship? It would help us better understand why they chose to target you in his torture if you had sexual history.”

Jake couldn’t answer. His tongue was heavy and imobile in his mouth.

She pushed. “It would help us figure out how to treat him if we can understand the true nature of your relationship.” She put her hand on his arm, trying to provide comfort but clearly uncomfortable. “I know it is… illegal in the Capitol and consequently the Districts to be intimate. But it wasn’t always like that, and we in Thirteen held onto that. Whatever you tell me won’t leave this room, and even if it did you won’t face consequences.”

If the truth would help Bradley he had to explain. “The two of us are lovers. We have been for over a decade. I love him, sorry no that’s not right we love each other.”

She nodded. “Thank you for your candor, I know it is difficult with things such as this.” Then she stood and walked back to Bradley’s room.

Natasha found him hours later. Still sitting in the small chair. Still waiting.

“Let's go eat something.” She said before pulling him to his feet.

They made it to the mess hall in time for dinner. The food was as bland as always.

“The doctor said it’s different here. That me and Bradley wouldn’t get in trouble for doing what we do.” Jake said. The first sentence he’d spoken since he talked to the doctor.

Natasha nodded. “I noticed that too. They don’t talk about it much. Everyone here is private, but there are men who share apartments and women I’ve seen who hold hands at supper time.”

Jake nodded. “They think what me and Bradley had made him a target. That they chose to torture him in a way that would hurt me and split us apart. Or maybe it’s to send a message, tell Panem I’m a predator I don’t know.”

“Maybe. You can twist yourself in knots trying to understand why they did it and you’ll never be satisfied.” Natasha replied. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save Callie.” Jake was pushing his food around, opting to wallow and bring up everything terrible in the world. Callie died during the rescue mission, falling into one of the traps set for them during the escape.

“None of that. I don’t want your apology.” Natasha bit back. “You are not the one who killed her, we both know who is to blame.” She paused then, and her voice softened. “I heard about your sisters, I’m sorry.”

His Ma and sisters died in a bombing of District One, they’d apparently joined the rebel cause, working in a medical tent. He’d been so focused on Bradley, that in those few hours he almost forgot about their deaths.

Recovery was rocky.

No one knew exactly what had been done to Bradley which made it all the harder to reverse it. Each day he had therapy with a District Thirteen psychologist as well as physical therapy to help recover from his injuries.

A week after their revelation Jake was allowed to visit him again. The drugs were completely flushed from Bradley's system and he reacted well when Natasha visited him. He was slightly combative when she told kind stories about Jake but otherwise listened. However, when Jake walked to his bed for the second time Bradley threw a water bottle at his head.

More time passed. The war continued but Jake never lost focus.

They tried different forms of exposure therapy until Bradley could stand to be in the same room with him. Then introduced talking and touch. Jake was always there. Sharing news about the rebellion, reading him stories and poetry, or just taking watch while Bradley slept.

Some days he woke up irritable and couldn’t stand to look at Jake. On those mornings, when Bradley’s eyes were cold and his shoulders were tight, Jake would leave graciously and spend the day diving into logistics and strategy for the coming siege.

Other days, on good days, Bradley would light up when he saw Jake. He’d invite him in and ask to hold his hand to share a meal.

When Bradley was finally deemed healthy enough to leave the medical suite and assigned an apartment Jake was there to help him settle in. He showed Bradley the daily scheduling system and all the amenities of his room. Then he led Bradley by the elbow on a tour of District Thirteen as this was his first time outside the medical wing. Jake showed him the mess hall, the showers, and where he worked.

Bradley was still convalescing but would be expected to pitch in some way soon. Jake hoped they weren’t going to ask to put him in front of a camera.

“Well this is our last stop, back at your quarters.” Jake opened the door with a flourish and gestured for Bradley to step inside. “I’ll leave you to it, remember I’m right next door and Natasha is across the hall. If you ever need us just shout.”

Bradley hummed but didn’t move. “Everyone’s close by.”

“Yep. This wing was empty until recently so they’re putting all of us newcomers here.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Jake.”

Jake nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Bradley understood that the Capitol had fucked with his head. He knew they’d tortured him and kept him in a cell next to the other screaming Victors.

Shortly after the treatments started he developed a habit of asking people if his memory was accurate. Most of the time he asked Jake. Even though he didn’t fully understand why, there was something about the man that he wanted to trust. There was a voice deep inside that told him Jake Seresin wouldn’t lie.

“They said we were doing something wrong, that we were sick. That I feel sick when I see you because of the wrongness. Is that real or not real?”

“It’s not real. They did something to you that makes you feel so sick when I touch you. But you Bradley Bradshaw don’t have anything evil inside.”

“Did you carve the scars into my face or was that someone else?”

“Someone else. I wasn’t there. Do you remember that I wasn’t there?”

“You once shoved me into a fire right? You laughed at me and my clothes burned.”

“One of the tributes in your first Games did that, he was on watch and betrayed you with your own invention. You got away and killed him instead. I will never ever hurt you.”

“Your favorite fruits are strawberries?”

“Yes and yours are oranges.”

Despite his improvements in memory and his growing trust in Jake, nightmares plagued Bradley’s dreams and showed no signs of stopping

A shout always woke Jake up on those nights. He would be out of bed and in Bradley’s room before he could question it. He found Bradley the way he had become accustomed to. He was curled in on himself next to his bed.

Bradley was shaking and sobbing with his face pressed into his knees. It took a long time to calm him down enough to breathe properly and even longer to get him to look at Jake.

“Can you um lie with me?” Bradley asked softly. He’d never asked before. “I think it would feel better to be next to you. I once held you when you were upset right? Is that something we did?”

Jake swallowed and tried not to let his face show emotion. “I would love to if you’ll let me.”

So he pulled back the covers and nestled inside, Jake pressed his back to the wall and Bradley curled into him.

Under the covers and soaking in the darkness, Bradley asked a question. “I can remember you raping me, like I can feel how it felt when you tied me down and laughed at me. But that feels wrong somehow, as if there’s a grainy film over the memory of it. And it doesn’t make any sense because I also remember being with you, lying with you under the covers, hiding in broom closets, and laughing, we were always laughing about something. I feel like those must have been the times they didn’t see, they couldn’t mess those memories up.”

“I'm glad they couldn’t ruin it all.” Jake choked. The fact that someone probably did do those things to Bradley, that on top of everything else they must have raped him or made him feel it while he was high out of his mind in order to convince him Jake had done it made Jake want to abandon the greater rebel cause and hunt down Bradley’s torturers personally.

Then Jake forced himself to breathe. He took in deep lungfuls of air and reminded himself that Bradley was safe in his arms. He could feel his skin, hear his heartbeat, and smell the soap in Bradley’s hair. Jake knew he would do no one any good going on a rampage right now so he made himself relax.

“I want you to know I would never hurt you. I never forced you to do anything and I never will. If you told me to leave and never even look at you again I would. I would do anything for you Bradley Bradhsaw. I hope you believe me.”

“I want to believe you too.”

Bradley’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking through the entire ceremony but it got worse once they tied their hands together in the traditional District Six way.

The tremors were a constant companion. Only receding when his hands were occupied. Bradley had taken to tying and untying various knots with a length of cord. The doctors gave it to him to rebuild his hand strength and it hasn't left his grasp since.

They were asked to get married in a public ceremony a month after Bradley moved into his room.

A wedding would serve two purposes, to make a sweeping declaration of their love and to show the world that the Capitol couldn’t temper their spirits. They asked Jake first, he knew how badly he wanted to marry Bradley, but gave them a non-committal answer and promised to ask Bradley.

Bradley said yes without hesitation.

Wedding planning was minimal and the guest list was pre-determined so the ceremony was ready to take place within the fortnight.

Marrying Bradley was the best moment of his life. Standing in their matching District Thirteen jumpsuits with their wrists tied together Jake didn’t care where they were or who was watching. He was marrying his man. The ceremony was brief. They exchanged personal vows and delivered their pre-approved propo lines about being grateful to Thirteen for being so accepting. Then it was a celebration.

The reception, by District Thirteen standards, was debauched. The citizens never had many opportunities to let their hair down and no one had many glimmers of joy since the war started. Fiddlers from District Twelve provided a lively soundtrack, the kitchen provided them with a wedding cake, and everyone who was able was dancing. It was beautiful, and standing to the side watching the merriment Jake felt tears well up. This is what they were fighting for.

Before the party could completely wind down Jake guided Bradley to their shared room. They received knowing glances and hollers on their way out the door.

Jake fell into bed beside him and reached for Bradley’s hand. They stripped eachothers clothes off slowly and settled into bed. Jake ran his hands along his body, feeling every inch of Bradley and lingering on the raised puffy skin next to his heart. Beauty was never a priority in Thirteen, but sometimes when he saw Bradley staring at the thin scars that now lined his body, tracing the ones on his face, or fixating on his chest, Jake missed the Capitols’ plastic surgeons.

He lifted Bradley’s hand to his lips and pressed a ghost of a kiss to each knuckle as he murmured “You’re really my husband” in a hushed voice.

They’d just gotten married. Publicly. They were married in the great hall for all of District Thirteen and anyone in Panem with a working television to see. The idea that what they had no longer needed to be secret felt like an impossible dream.

The final assault on the Capitol went much better than anyone expected.

What Jake originally thought of as a pipedream for the rebellion came true. They got to the President’s Mansion and forced a surender. The loss of life was devastating. The damage to the city would leave scars for decades.

But they won. They could build a new world.

Said new government had something to discuss with the remaining Victors. So Bradley and Jake, along with the five remaining Victors, were called to the President’s Mansion.

“You want to have another Hunger Games with the Capitol’s children?” Jake hissed. He couldn’t believe what they were suggesting.

“It balances the need for revenge with the least loss of human life.”

They argued for hours but in the end a majority vote for another Hunger Games won the day. The vote ended up being for naught when the Mockingjay killed their new president, and with it any chance of a new Hunger Games.

Standing in the street, watching the crowd disperse and settle down. Their bloodlust temporarily quenched while their leaders scrambled for what to do next. Jake was relieved and terrified. There was more work to be done, there always would be, but he only had one thing on his mind.

“Bradley?” Jake asked.

“Yes Jake.”

“Will you take me home?”

Bradley hadn’t exaggerated one bit, the lake was gorgeous. Bright fresh water stretched as far as the eye could see and Jake could barely believe it. It was something the propos and photographs of District Six couldn’t capture. The lake was a beautiful blue marvel that he would never tire of staring at. Jake spent most mornings in their new home watching the sunrise over the water, on days Bradley didn’t sleep much and woke up early he would watch it with him too.

“How do you want your eggs cooked?” Bradley asked, stepping out onto the porch and leaning over Jake’s shoulder.

The year since the war ended had been kind to his husband. Bradley had regained the weight he lost, his body full and firm. His hair growing long, a mane of dark curls touched by grey hairs. He’d also started to grow out his beard, Bradley said the full scruff was just a change from his years with a mustache but Jake knew that it also covered his scars. Bradley’s hands shook too much to hold a razor anyways and he would never ask Jake to do it. He also wasn't drinking anymore, no longer wanting to be under the influence of substances, too afraid of how they would distort his reality.

“Scrambled please.” Jake replied. Then tilted his head to kiss Bradley on the cheek. “What are we doing today?”

“I need to repair the second coop, we’ll see how long that takes. And you promised Javy you’d help him deliver the ration shipment today.”

Jake nodded. He already knew that but enjoyed listening to Bradley give him his schedule.

Jake had been roped into working on rebuilding Panem. All of the Victors were asked except Bradley, who Jake had made sure never heard anyone wanted something from him again. So Jake helped with distributing food and volunteered on construction or cleaning projects. Six hadn’t been destroyed like twelve was, but it still bore scars from the war. He knew they wanted him to do more but he always refused.

This is how their days looked now.

Bradley kept to himself, he grew food and raised their chickens. The hens were becoming some of his favorite people and Jake managed to capture photographs of him surrounded on all sides by what Jake had dubbed his flock. He had the film developed and surprised Bradley two weeks later with an addition to their scrap book titled ‘Rooster and his Hens.” The nickname stuck after that.

After his first fall harvest Bradley started to bring his extra goods to the market. Fresh eggs and produce proved to be a sure way to meet folks and make new friends. For the first time since he’d been reaped, Bradley was popular.

Jake helped in town but spent most of his days with Bradley. They spent long hours together in their home and at the lake.

No one cared who they were. Victor and sexually deviant weren’t in their neighbor’s lexicon. They weren’t war heroes or victims, they were Jake and Bradley. A newcomer and an old face in District Six. Reliable men to call on when you needed a favor. Gracious dinner guests. A lethal Euchre team. Friendly faces. Jake and Bradley.

They read together.

Listened to the radio on the couch, and slow danced in their kitchen.

Gossip sessions over dinner.

Card games late into the night.

This was their life together. This was their new normal.

Some mornings Bradley still woke up confused. He’d spring out of bed and run outside. Then in his confusion wander until he found somewhere that felt safe. Jake was eternally grateful to the neighbors who helped him track Bradley down each time.

They always found him somewhere on the beach, staring at the lake.

Other mornings he’d try to stay and fight and protect himself from Jake with whatever he could find. Whatever the scenario it always ended the same, with Jake soothing him into the rocking chair on their porch and playing the same game they played back in District Thirteen.

“The Hunger Games are gone? That’s real right?”

“Yes. They’re never going to happen again.”

“Good. Did you get hurt? They took out a chunk of your leg? But it’s there again right? Was that real?”

“They had to cut out the muscle but I kept the rest.” Jake tapped his knee with his cane. “Hurts like a bitch most days now, you help me with it. Do you remember that.”

“Right, I have the magic fingers.” Bradley smiled and wiggled ten fingers towards Jake. “I know that’s definitely real.”

Jake snorted and rolled his eyes. It was a familiar conversation for them. Comforting how quickly he’d been able to bring Bradley back from his delirium this time.

“Did you ever stick needles in my arms?”

“No. I would never do that.”

Bradley nodded. “I didn’t think it was so I just had to check.” He looked out over the water, tearing his eyes from Jake and soaking it in. “I feel more like myself. Things are… sharper. I just have one more question.”

Jake nodded and held up his hand to start counting off his fingers. “Let me beat you to the usual queries, yes your favorite color is orange, yes you were married to Natasha, no I never shoved you into a fire and no I never let poisoned snakes bite you.” Jake said it with practiced carelessness but his omissions made Bradley frown.

“That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to ask if you married me, is that real or not real? I remember dancing with you but I also remember cameras, I got worried we weren’t actually allowed to do that.”

Jake let out a relieved exhale and smiled. “We’re married. That’s real.” He linked his fingers with Bradley’s and squeezed. “You don’t wear a wedding ring because your fingers swell up ever since you got hurt.” He reached under his collar and held up the chain around his neck, showing Bradley the charm. “We have these matching necklaces. Got them after the war. Do you remember that?”

Bradley thought for a second and reached for the chain around his own neck. “I remember. That’s real.”

“Yep. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“Good.” Bradley trailed off lost in thought before he snapped back to reality. “Now that that’s all cleared up, can I kiss my husband good morning?” Bradley asked, voice laced with sincerity and trepidation. “I’m awfully sorry for how we started the day.” Clearly unsure if that would be ok to kiss Jake after his episode.

“Oh none of that. I always tell you it ain’t your fault but you never believe me.”

Bradley huffed. “I think I’m gonna just kiss you now to shut you up.”

“If you insi—.”

Bradley cut him off, gripping the short strands of hair on Jake’s neck and mashing their lips together. This was a feeling he never forgot was real.