thecapitol | hands, put your empty hands in mine [CLOSED]

Beck laughs, taking the glass and raising it a little in a toast. "Here's to getting here at just the right time, huh?" I mean, it would have been better if it didn't coincide with a war, but...

Emily clinks her glass against Beck's before downing a good deal of her wine, then settles back in next to her partner. "Oh-- it looks like it's starting."

Beck takes a long drink herself, then settles back, almost in Emily's lap, to watch the show. She has to admit, despite all her experience with the media, she's nervous about this. She's managed to steer clear of politics most of her life, getting away with her slightly unusual beliefs largely by being politically apathetic. But she cares about this. That's part of the reason she wanted to watch it with Emily, who she trusts, rather than on her own or in public.

The weirdest part, she thinks as she watches the film unfold, is seeing her past up on the screen like that. Her dancing put back-to-back with her Games work, set alongside the here and now. It's all the stranger when she's in a place that's not quite settled with either of those jobs, with a girlfriend and a different place again in the world.

About a minute into the film, she reaches for Emily's hand, holding it tight.

It's fitting that it's Beck and Quintus, the only two people in the Capitol she feels any sort of connection to and responsibility toward. It's almost as if this propo was made explicitly to appeal to Emily herself, she thinks somewhat cynically, before finding herself overcome by its content. She twitches uncomfortably as she sees herself on screen, but the corners of her mouth quirk up into something of a smile as Beck comes up beside her, and she reaches over to take Beck's hand and stroke her thumb across Beck's knuckles as she sees them holding hands in the film.

When it finishes, she's not sure what to say, whether to feel happy and proud or even more pressured into her deal with the Capitol. She's silent for a few long seconds before turning to look at Beck.

"There's a lot there that I didn't know about you."

Her tone doesn't sound accusing, but soft and matter-of-fact.

"Guess there's a lot I forgot to tell you." Beck squeezes Emily's hand gently, and gives her a slightly apologetic smile. Honestly, she didn't tell Emily anything about her past because she assumed she knew. It never occurred to her that she wasn't being open.

Not until now, anyway. Suddenly, she's aware of it, and not sure whether she should be ashamed. Emily's tone helps, makes it easier to believe this is okay.

There's 'forgot', and then there's 'omitted'. Emily's not sure how much Beck's deliberately been holding back from her, and as someone whose life story is so publicised herself, she envies her the choice of doing so. "It's not as though you're obliged to tell me anything. But I'd like to know. Especially if you really are connected to the Districts."

"I thought you knew," Beck said, after a moment. It isn't recalcitrance but uncertainty that makes her so slow. She's never told anyone this - never had to, growing up in a place like the Capitol where everything is everyone's business. It's just been a given.

She finishes off her wine, shifting out of Emily's lap and sitting up straighter. "Amelia, my mother... she's a bitch. We need to get that out of the way right now. She's a bitch who makes Jason look well-balanced." She said it with more vitriol than she'd ever said anything around Emily, pressing her lips together. "My father was the 23rd Victor. Husk Mattock. Amelia fucked him when he was top-shelf material, had a sweet little half-breed by him, showed me off for a few months. Then he turned traitor, I stopped being an asset..." She shrugs, reaching for the wine bottle. "There's plenty of public record of me as a baby, if you look for it. Amelia holding me, Amelia shoving me at Husk... I mean, if you're really interested."

Emily flinches back a little at the vitriol in Beck's voice, unused to hearing that from her and feeling afraid that she's stepped over a line in pressing Beck to talk about this. Tentatively she reaches over to place a hand on her knee, hoping to comfort her.

"Only if you want to show me. I know what it's like to have my whole life on public display."

Beck smiles at her a little, pouring herself a generous glass of wine. "I will show you. Some time. She might be a bitch, but I was fucking adorable." Then, her smile fading again, "I didn't see her for twenty-something years. She dropped me off with some Avoxes in a house downtown, next thing I heard from her was when I got the Stylist spot a few months ago. Suddenly she wants to be my mother again."

"Was?" Emily teases, though her face falls as Beck continues. "That's... I-- I'm sorry." She leans into her, resting her cheek in Beck's curls. "I wish you could have met my parents. I know they'd love you."

Beck smiles a little, turning her head to kiss Emily's forehead. "Thanks," she says, and knocks back a large mouthful of wine. "It wasn't so bad, honestly. I mean, I could've been stuck with her my whole life. Look how well that turned out for some of our coworkers."

Jason. She's blatantly talking about Jason.

Emily feels it would be better to be stuck with an overbearing parent than to feel entirely unwanted by them, but she knows that's the least appropriate thing to say.

"You're not alone any more, at least."

"No." Beck smiles, a smaller and less toothy smile than usual, and sits up a little to press a kiss to the corner of Emily's mouth. "No, I'm not."

It made her feel, for the first time, as though they were on the same level, that she wasn't the only one bluffing her way through Capitol society. She wondered how Beck was seen by everyone else, whether they'd seen her as essentially a Districter all along, while she'd assumed that they'd all be looking down at Emily herself for daring to instigate a relationship with a Capitolite.

"Have you ever been out to Twelve?"

Beck shakes her head. "I've never been out of the Capitol," she says, not without an edge of regret. "I wish. I mean," she adds quickly, because you never know who's listening, "I love the city, don't get me wrong. I really do. But sometimes I wonder what it's like out there."

She purses her lips together as she drives away the temptation to let loose on the reality of living in the lower Districts. She'd not spent much time in Twelve - only on her own and Johanna's victory tours, really - but it was enough to show her how poor its citizens were. They looked even worse off than her people in Seven, which made her not want to even imagine the hardships they must suffer. "I think it would do you good to see the Districts," she eventually says. "Not just Twelve, but Eight too, given how your own job intertwines with their industry."

"I think so too," Beck admits softly, and takes a long draught of wine. "Maybe when all this is over. Maybe then we can go together, you and me. You can show me where you come from."

"I'm not sure there'll be much left." She notices the bitterness in her tone and bites down on her lip to will it away, scared even here in her own home - or especially here - of the Capitol taking notes and judging her an enemy.

Beck frowns deeply, closing her eyes, and leans in to kiss Emily on the cheek. "You can't think like that," she says softly. "It won't come to that. It can't." There's a certain desperation behind her voice, though, that says that she's trying to reassure herself as well as Emily. She's scared. She doesn't like to show it, but she is scared.

"At least we have a home here," she replies, wanting to find a positive as she feels bad for making Beck feel bad, though she knows deep down that the Capitol will never be her home, just a more gilded cage.

Beck smiles, kissing Emily's cheek. "Sure we do," she agrees, and squeezes Emily's hand. "Only home I've ever had. Except it never really felt like home until I met you."

Sappy? Yes. True? Well, mostly.

"You really mean that, don't you?" She's always surprised when Beck says things like that, used to hearing them as romantic turns of phrase but never toward her, thinking herself undeserving and tainted by the things she'd had to do as a Victor, things that didn't bear thinking about. "What if we were dirt poor and didn't have any of this, would it still be home?"

Beck cocks her head to one side, thinking. "I don't know," she says at last, and laughs. "I mean, I'd rather have all this and you. But if it was a choice..." Biting her lip, she leans up and kisses Emily gently on the curve of her jaw. "Well, I already tried having stuff and nobody to share it with, and I can't say it worked out great."

That reassurance, that she'd want her even with the comfort and convenience of the Capitol - the world Beck thrives in - torn away, hits something within Emily, a peace and safety that she's never found beyond the walls of the cabin in which she grew up, one that she certainly never expected to find in a Capitolite. It's at that moment she realises just what Beck means to her. She presses her close, pulls her into a kiss with a depth of passion that surprises Emily, one she didn't know she was capable of, trying to convey through her actions that which she lacked the courage to put into words.

It surprises Beck, too. That, in itself, is strange; passion is how Beck lives her life, and kisses haven't exactly been rare in it either. But after the last few months, she's come to terms with the idea that it isn't how Emily works.

Except, apparently, for right now.

Beck smiles up against Emily's mouth, letting her eyes flutter closed and kissing her back just as deeply and passionately. Her hand comes up, fingertips tracing through Emily's hair.

It takes her a long time to break the kiss, revelling in the sensation, the closeness, the trust, the -- all right, she supposed it was time to admit it to herself -- the love. When she finally, reluctantly allows her lips to part from Beck's, she looks over at her somewhat nervously, unused to the emotions swirling inside her and only experienced at that level of intimacy in a situation where some rich Capitolite had paid for it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-- I mean--" She breaks off, takes a deep breath, makes herself start again. "That was lovely."

Beck bites her lip, trying not to smile too widely, not wanting to spook Emily. It's hard, though, not to let out some of that joy that's all of a sudden bubbling up inside her.

"Don't you dare apologise," she says at last, with a little laugh, gently brushing Emily's hair back off her face. "Don't you dare. That was..." She looks away, feeling almost shy for once in her life, and then looks back at Emily from under her false eyelashes. "Something I'd like to do again. Can I?"

Emily looks at her uncertainly. She's never initiated a kiss like that before, and she was scared Beck would think she was forcing her own emotions and desire onto her. It had never been a two way process before, a dance of intimacy and romance and trust, but something she'd grown to see as a sordid invasion of her own space and a cheapening of her as a person. She couldn't wish that on anyone, least of all the woman in front of her. But at Beck's gentle gestures, how pleased she looks, how shyly she asks to do it again, she realises that she wants to repeat that kiss more than anything she's ever wanted before, that every fibre of her being longs for the touch of lips and caress of fingertips.

"Please. I need you to."

Beck laughs, low in her throat, and leans in to kiss Emily again, letting her eyes slide closed. Her fingertips cautiously trace the line of Emily's jaw, down the side of her neck, wary of any sign that Emily's uncomfortable - any tensing, any flinching away, and she'll quickly return her hand to Emily's cheek instead.

Emily kisses hungrily, one hand winding around Beck's back and the other rising to brush her curls from her face and trace her forehead. She twitches nervously as Beck's hand makes its way closer to the area of her neck and chest that was so badly burned in Seven, but she doesn't pull away. There's an incredible sense of knowing here, a feeling that they really are sharing and understanding and becoming one. It was everything she'd been led to believe intimacy was in her youth, everything she'd thought was a lie beautifully confirmed to her in touch and taste and togetherness.

Smiling up against Emily's mouth, Beck lets her hand rest lightly on the curve of the other woman's shoulder, her other hand carding gently through Emily's hair. After a moment, though, she's the one to pull away. She doesn't move far, just far enough that she can meet Emily's eyes and hold them for a moment.

She's turned on. Might as well admit it. It shows in her eyes, which are dark and heavy-lidded, and it's what makes her pull back, because... well. This is Emily. "You'll tell me if I go too far?" It's both a question and a request, and something else too, something she can't quite put her finger on. "I mean, I'll try not to, but I..." God, this is way harder than sex, and way more difficult to find words for.

"Nobody's ever asked me that before," she whispers, feeling incredibly empowered and strangely helpless all at once. She doesn't know how far she wants to go, wanting to discover her own boundaries and please Beck all at once, and she feels like she's feeling her way forward in the dark. Slowly she reaches forward, kissing Beck again before moving down her neck and jaw with a trail of smaller kisses.

Beck tilts her head to better expose her neck, letting go of Emily with one hand to sweep her curls back out of the way. It's an elegant movement, too elegant and too smooth to be totally natural - one of those movements which was once calculated, but which, through years of practice, have got to be second nature. She smiles, letting out a low, throaty little sound of approval.

"I've never asked anyone that before," she says after a moment, head still tilted, letting her fingers trail along Emily's hairline. It's true - she's never been in a position where she's had to ask before, especially not when a lot of her partners have paid for her to go as far as possible - but somehow that no longer feels like quite such an awkward thing. It's oddly touching for some part of this to be new to both of them. The low breath she lets out might be a laugh, a way of letting out that sudden bubble of emotion at the thought. She really isn't sure, and it doesn't seem to matter.

Emily shifts awkwardly at the hint of a laugh, wondering if she's done something wrong or if Beck's changing her mind. Her hand falls from Beck's cheek to the buttons of her own blouse, nervous about someone she cares about seeing her unclothed but knowing it feels right.

Beck's eyes follow Emily's hand downwards, and a smile spreads over her face - not the dazzling, flirtatious smile of a performer, but something softer and warmer than that. She pulls back far enough to rest her forehead against Emily's, still smiling.

It takes an effort of will not to be hungry about it, not to help with the buttons or stare as Emily reveals herself. It's been a long dry spell, dating Emily, and while she really doesn't want to pressure her into anything, the thought that something might finally happen makes Beck almost desperately impatient - especially when a glance down shows her that the tops of Emily's breasts are showing. She bites her lip, her fingers tightening briefly against Emily's hair. God, she wants to touch, to taste, to bury her face against Emily's tits and kiss every inch of them...

Later, she tells herself, and the fact that she has to hold back does have a thrill of its own, too. Soon.

She tenses as Beck's fingers tighten against her hair, reflex kicking in as she automatically braces herself for whatever violent or humiliating thing invariably followed, for the briefest second before she reminds herself that she's safe here. Her cheeks redden in embarrassment and she hopes desperately that Beck didn't realise what had raced unbidden through her mind, quickly divesting herself of her shirt and shivering briefly as the chill hits her bare skin.

Quickly deciding that she'd feel better if she was enacting some measure of control rather than having to continually remind herself that she has it, she places her hand on Beck's shoulder to guide her back onto the couch, straddling her and kissing lightly at her neck.

Beck moves easily, without resistance, shifting her hips a little to make Emily's position more comfortable, and arches her neck obligingly to the side. "Hey," she murmurs, with another warm little laugh, smiling up at her girlfriend. "Mm. Fuck, you're beautiful."

She means it absolutely. Truth be told, Emily doesn't look a whole lot like most of the girls Beck's slept with - they've always been Capitolites, tattooed and pierced and modified to within an inch of their lives, and beautiful with it, especially to another Capitolite's eyes. But there's something about Emily's plainer appearance that gives her a different sort of beauty, something rougher and more real. She's Emily, purely and absolutely, and that's the most beautiful woman Beck can imagine right now.

"I love you," she says, and yes, she's said it before - not even just to Emily, for that matter - but she still says it like it's a surprise to her, like it's only now become real to her. She bites her lip, bringing her hand up to trace the top of Emily's arm, meeting the other woman's eyes. "I do. I love you."

She wants to say it back. She wishes she could, and almost wills the words to her lips, but she feels she'd be deceitful if she did, and knows Beck deserves better. To say 'I love you', one must first know how to say the ‘I’, and Emily knew that until she discovered and felt comfortable with who that really was, she felt a fraud saying it to Beck even if it were true.

Instead she smiles, looking grateful and truly touched by the declaration. "I never thought you'd turn sappy on me."

"That makes two of us," Beck admits, with a laugh, and lets her head fall back against the cushions, her eyes dancing as she looks up at Emily. If she's honest, yeah, she wanted - wants - to hear it back, to hear that someone loves her. It's a little embarrassing how much she craves that in general, and from Emily in specific.

But, well... baby steps. Emily's not like most people Beck's known, and she's sensitive enough to know that if I love you is a strange think for her, it's twice as hard for Emily. For now, the gratitude in Emily's eyes is almost enough.

"Can I touch?" she asks quietly, after a moment, her eyes flicking down to Emily's chest, then back up to her face.

hands, put your empty hands in mine [CLOSED]

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