Promises of a Sacrificial Lamb |Destiel x The Hunger Games|

-23-

As evening falls, Cas and I share an exquisite meal of cashews, small slices of that delicious bread, a few pieces of dried fruit, and half a banana each, and we've still barely made a dent in our selection.  We wash it down with generous sips of water, knowing that we have a brook at our disposal, and lean back against the rocky wall of our hollow to let it all digest in our rumbling stomachs.  This time, though, the rumbling isn't from hunger.  It's from blissful satisfaction.

I haven't felt this full in a long while.  It's amazing.  In reality, I think it's only been a matter of days, but to me, it seems like eons.  What is this, the fourth day in the arena?  I think so.  It's hard to believe it hasn't been four weeks.  Does time move slower here?

No time to ponder it.  The anthem blasts through the air just as darkness settles over the rainforest.  No pictures appear in the canopy above.  No one died today. The birds return to their blithe songs in seconds.

This is about the point in the Games where most of the tributes have adapted to the arena and are either in hiding or trying to hunt the others down.  It's no surprise that there weren't any deaths today.  Other than the remaining Careers, I'm sure the tributes from the other outlying districts are lying low, much like Cas and me.  It's only a matter of time before the Gamemakers come up with some twisted trick to bring us all together.  It's bad business for them to have a dull, deathless day.

I can't worry myself sick with that unnerving thought.  It won't do me any good to fret about something that hasn't happened yet.  It's difficult, but I try to push it out of my racing mind and instead focus my attention on Cas, who's absentmindedly tracing circles in the dirt with his finger.  It's nighttime now, and even though he looks exhausted, something tells me he won't want to go to sleep after what happened last night.

An idea hits me then.  It's rather out of the blue, but it makes a smile pull at my lips just thinking about it.  "When's your birthday?"

There's a puzzled frown on Cas' face when he glances up to meet my eyes, but he's smiling, too.  "What?"  he says with a breathy chuckle.  "Why?"

I shrug.  "Because I don't know that many personal things about you.  We haven't really had time to sit down and gossip like we're at a sleepover."

And because I know he won't want to sleep and I'm hoping this will distract him until he relaxes enough, but I don't mention that outright.  Plus, I genuinely want to know more about him.  I hardly know anything other than bits and pieces regarding his family.  It's a win-win.

Cas breathes out another laugh, dropping his gaze to the ground.  "September 18,"  he says when he glances back up.  There's an emotion glimmering in his eyes that I can't quite discern, but whatever it is, it makes me happy.  "When's yours?"

"January 24."  I can't stifle a laugh when he makes a face.  "I know, right in the dead of winter.  I almost didn't survive because it was so cold that year.  At least that's what my mom always says.  She could just be being dramatic, though."

His smile widens.  I tell him it's his turn to ask me a question now.  He pauses to think, seeming to be lost in his mind as he struggles to come up with something to ask.  Finally, he says, "What's your favorite color?"

"Ooh, jumping right to the super personal stuff,"  I remark.  I can't help but grin when Cas lets out an abrupt chuckle at my playfully sarcastic comment.

My favorite color.  That's a tough one.  I draw a deep breath, mulling over my options.  I've never really given it too much thought before.  There hasn't been a need to, but I have to answer.  This is a very important question.