Chapter Text
He smells good, the Alpha. Like roses and expensive whiskey. The ones the head peacemaker would indulge in occasionally when he happened to come to one of their shows.
Lucy Gray Baird had never met one before. If Omega’s in District 12 were like diamonds, then Alpha’s were like pearls.
Coriolanus Snow was pretty, yes. Lucy is sure she would have found him attractive no matter what ridiculous uniform they squeezed him into. Blonde curls like his are a rare sight. Lucy Gray can’t help but think of what it would be like to grab at them. Wrap a ringlet around her finger and watch it spring back into place.
She’s staring, she knows it. But he’s staring too. Coriolanus’s piercing blue eyes are the colour of ice and his gaze burns her cheeks, flushing them pink.
Alpha.
Her Omega is dazzled. Lucy Gray does her best to ignore her instincts. It’s a difficult battle; she usually takes the shape of a snoozing cat deep in her chest, however ever since their first meeting her Omega has been wide awake and purring. Loud.
The others are staring too. She can see fear there, yes, distrust, and most of all rage. A viseral violence simmers around them all as the tributes size Coriolanus up. He’s clearly strong, his shoulders broad under his pristine red blazer. Still- Lucy Gray doesn’t like Coriolanus’s chances, even if only half of them decide to attack.
An argument ensues; apparently even murder has its pros and cons. Lucy Gray can’t help but wonder how much of their hesitation stems from his scent, loud and brash in the small contained area of the truck. Alpha’s are not only natural leaders, fiercely possessive and protective, but exceptionally violent when provoked. At least that’s what her Mama told her.
‘I’ll do my best to take care of you,’ That’s what Coriolanus said. At the memory her toes curl in her shoes.
“You got family at home? Lucy Gray hears herself interrupt the fight, the only voice coming to her mentor's defence.
It’s more of that of course. She doesn’t fancy any of their chances of lasting long if the back of the truck opens to a bloody corpse of a beloved Capitol golden boy.
But Lucy Gray can't ignore how she is gripping the rose he gave her so hard that she’s begun to bend the stem. For some absurd reason she knows she couldn’t stand to see him hurt. Even more than Jessup, not that they were ever close, but he’s the closest thing she’s got to the Covey and to home.
While she’s pondering her sanity the truck comes to an abrupt stop, jolting them all forwards. Before Lucy Gray has even a chance to catch her breath the floor beneath her begins to rise in a slope.
The kids up front have no choice but to tumble into the sudden abyss. Thank the lord Lucy Gray had the good sense to hide at the back. She digs her heels into the iron floor, but despite her best efforts Lucy Gray feels herself begin to slide. Her fingers grasp hopelessly at the grate Coriolanus was backed up against only moments before. Now he is one of the only ones that stands a chance of staying upright, his arm tucked behind a bar.
Lucy Gray’s stomach swoops as she feels herself loose grip, her hands crying out with pain as the iron slips from her fingertips. She’s going to fall, going to succumb to whatever torture the Capitol has in store for them first.
It is him, and him only, that keeps her upright.
“I’ve got you Omega,” Coriolanus’s arm is warm and strong around her waist, his breath hot in her hair.
His fingers are splayed across her waist. His grip is a needy thing, like he already knows her, inside and out.
Lucy Gray's throat is dry, like she’s woken up after sleeping with her mouth wide open.
She wants to thank him. Wants to curl herself up into his embrace and die inside his skin. But all that falls out of Lucy Gray’s mouth is a scream as gravity pushes all of its force down on them and mentor and mentee plummet down, landing on top of the groaning pile of tributes.
Coriolanus did his best to catch her, but people are bony and rocks are hard. Lucy Gray struggles to catch her breath, her ribs aching with the impact.
Laughter floods her ears and she looks up, a wild rabbit sniffing out her surroundings. They’ve been caught in some sort of cage. A cage with an audience.
Men, women and children in what seems to be their Sunday best stand around, peering in at the enclosure with a disgusted sort of interest, as if they’re ashamed of themselves to be looking. A few are pointing. A man with a pout belly shovels some kind of treat into his mouth, his dark eyes leery.
Bile rises up in Lucy Gray’s throat. They’re animals to them. Nothing more, nothing less.
Most of her fellow competitors stay low. Some are crying. Others scramble to find hiding places, behind the stray rocks and trees.
Her mentor has climbed to his feet and Lucy Gray does the same, if on trembling legs.
There’s a camera, a large one, like the ones they use at the reaping ceremonies, pointing directly at the pair of them. No, not at her. Not really.
The lens is pulsing at him. The Alpha. Coriolanus. In a cage full of district tributes, he is somehow the oddity.
Lucy Gray looks up at him, heart racing. Did he know this was going to happen? By his waxy pale skin she’d say not.
A man with a microphone and an absurd moustache is gesturing at him, calling for an answer. Why was a Capitol student mixing with the district scum?
He didn’t say that explicitly of course, but Lucy Gray has always prided herself at being able to read people well.
Coriolanus is breathing hard, all Alpha pride disintegrated with embarrassment. His frozen blue eyes are wide with fear, his sharp jaw trembling with barely restrained emotion.
An unexpected lump forms in Lucy Gray’s throat.
Alpha distressed, Her Omega cries out, twisting inside of her painfully, scratching at her heart, Help Alpha.
Before she can think better of it Lucy Gray’s hand is gripping his blood red sleeve. Coriolanus’s handsome chin turns towards her instantly. Their eyes meet and electric current seems to run down her spine.
“Own it,” Lucy Gray hisses roughly.
Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, clumsy. Lucy Gray finds with numb surprise that she is using her real voice, not the affected charming tone she puts on in front of the punters.
Coriolanus nods at her once, twice. He seems as dumbfounded as she feels.
Can he feel it? Lucy Gray wonders, this intangible thing sizzling between them like hot oil in a pan? Or has the hours and days trapped inside the suffocating train carriage truly driven her mad?
Coriolanus visibly straightens himself, shoulders back in an arrogant manner that seems entirely familiar to him. Lucy Gray would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t find it extremely attractive.
“Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus bows his head and a pretty blonde curl sticks to the sweat staining her forehead, “Would you do me the honour?”
It was a question, but not the one he voiced. Lucy Gray can tell what Coriolanus really meant was ‘will you play along with me,’.
Luckily for them both she was quite fond of a game.
Lucy Gray twists her lips in consent and he plucks his white rose back from her. She watches his long thin fingers snap the stem with a crack, before tucking the flower behind her ear.
Her breath hitches at his sudden touch. She’s sure he heard it, if his pleased scent growing around her is anything to go by.
Lucy Gray swallows. Coriolanus’s skin is smooth and soft, the hands of a person who has never done a hard day's work in his life. His fingers brush against the curve of her ear and her pulse on the side of her neck throbs.
Desire is a feeling she had buried as soon as her name was called out by their benevolent mayor, and yet here it is. Roaring its mighty head again.
She takes his hand, or maybe it’s the other way round. It’s all part of their little performance, but Lucy Gray holds onto Coriolanus tight regardless. A deep need for him tugs at her gut. He is the enemy, Capitol born and bred, and yet her entire body is screaming at her not to let him go.