Chapter Text
Madge woke up, acutely aware of three things. First, her head was pounding. Second, her eyes were burning, as she’d apparently slept in her contacts. Third, Gale Hawthorne’s arm was laying over her torso, and it was heavy. Oh, and he was naked, and so was she.
Oh, shit.
She wriggled her way out from under his arm, scanning the hotel room for her underwear. She found them on the floor, the black standing out against the bland beige of the carpet, and shimmied into them, doing her best not to look at Gale, or think about what happened, or—oh, shit. Her stomach roiling, she dashed to the bathroom and immediately began regurgitating everything she’d eaten, drank, or even looked at in the past 48 hours. She was dimly aware that she was doing all of this topless, and was considering grabbing a towel, but her present…situation kept her knees glued to the floor in front of the toilet. During a particularly vicious bout, she felt something being draped over her shoulders, and another pair of hands wound into her hair, holding it back until she was finished. Madge sat back on her heels and looked up at him. Gale looked as terrible as she felt, which was a small consolation. She leaned against the tub, gratefully buttoning his shirt (that had been what he put on her shoulders, apparently) as he slid down the wall across from her. He’d put his boxer briefs back on, which was good. Madge wasn’t sure she was up for dealing with Naked Gale Hawthorne in her condition. They stared at each other for a moment before she broke the silence.
“So…what the fuck happened last night?”
“Well, Katniss and Peeta got married, and we got drunk and hooked up.”
She threw him a withering look. “Obviously. What I’m wondering is why are we in a hotel? We both live in this city. Why on earth did we get a hotel room? Why not take a cab back to one of our apartments?”
Gale looked a little sheepish, which was impressive considering he mostly looked like hell. “I’m pretty sure it was your idea, actually. We’d sort of…decided things, and you pointed out that we were already in a hotel and you didn’t feel like waiting any longer.”
Oh god. That did sound like her. Well, drunk-her. When Madge got drunk, she got a little…impatient. That bit of the night came rushing back to her—Gale whispering in her ear on the dance floor, her suggestion, him booking the room. “How much was the room? I can pay you back, or we can split it. After all, this was my stupid idea.”
Gale waved her suggestion away, his already grey-ish skin paling a bit more. “It’s fine. It’s not like I fought you on it, so I think we can safely say this was our stupid-“ Gale cut off mid sentence, his breathing suddenly speeding up. “Move,” he barked, and she just had time to crawl a little further away when Gale leaned over the toilet and starting throwing up everything he’d eaten. They were quite the trainwreck this morning, it seemed.
Madge pushed herself to her feet—something that should not have been that difficult—and stumbled to the sink. She filled two water glasses and sat back down heavily, handing him one as he finished. “Did we…we used a condom, right?” she ventured, praying that her brain wasn’t lying to her. She thoughtshe remembered a condom, but then again, she was remembering other things too. Things that didn’t quite fit with “drunken hookup in the heat of passion.” Sure, she remembered basically tearing his suit coat off, tugging on his tie and scraping her teeth along his jawline, and she remembered him lifting her up and pressing her against the wall while he kissed her fiercely and dug his fingers into her thighs. Those things made sense. What didn’t make sense were those other memories, like how he’d laced their fingers together while he was moving inside of her, and he how he’d cupped her cheek like she was something precious. Or the way his face had lit up as she returned from cleaning up in the bathroom, and the things he’d murmured in her ear as she fell asleep on his chest. Those memories didn’t really fit the scenario, and if she couldn’t trust those memories, she didn’t trust any of them.
“Yeah, there’s a condom in the trash, so I think we’re okay,” Gale replied. “And just in case, my last STD screening came back clear, and I haven’t been with anyone else since then. Any chance you’re on the pill?”
Madge nodded, relieved. “My last STD panel was clear too, so at least we don’t have to worry about any of that right now. What I am wondering is what the fuck did we drink last night? I remember too much to be this hungover.”
“Welcome to your late 20s, Undersee. The pay is better, but the hangovers are worse.”
Madge opened her mouth to point out that she’d never been this hungover and she drank fairly frequently, but stopped. She really couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this drunk. Katniss’ bachelorette party was pretty low-key, and since Johanna had left town three years ago the amount of bar-hopping she did with her girlfriends had plummeted. Neither she nor Katniss were super into the bar or club scene, and while Delly loved it, Delly also had a tendency to end up kind of weepy when she drank. Happy, “I love you all so much and I’m so glad we’re friends” kind of weepy that Katniss straight-out refused to deal with and Madge would rather not handle either. So in the past few years, Madge’s weekends had gotten considerably less “let’s go party” and considerably more “let’s have two glasses of wine and be home by 11.” This probably was the first night in the past three years that she’d gotten drunk enough to…well, drunk enough to get a hotel room with Gale Hawthorne, so this was probably her first hangover in three years as well. And it was awful.
Gale groaned, setting down his water glass. “Any chance you’ve got a toothbrush on you, Undersee? Maybe tucked into those pockets on your bridesmaid dress? Because check-out is probably pretty soon, and I don’t feel like talking to a clerk while my teeth feel like sweaters and my breath smells like a dog’s.”
“Charming. No, I don’t—wait, what about my pockets?”
“Your dress. It had pockets. You must have told me half a dozen times. You could keep things in them, like lip gloss, and your phone.”
Oh, she remembered that now. “Right. But no, sorry. Let me see if I can get some from room service.”
“Won’t that cost a billion dollars?”
“Probably,” Madge conceded. “But it’s better than leaving here feeling like this. It’ll be my treat.” She dragged herself into the bedroom, called room service, and surveyed the damage. Her shoes were tipped over near the door, Gale’s jacket crumpled beside them. His tie was on the chair, peeking out from under her dress, and his pants and shoes were on the floor on one side of the bed while her bra was on the other. She started steeling herself for the walk outside, since she had nothing else to wear and Gale was going to need his shirt back before they left. She might as well put a sign over her head saying “Walk of Shame: Commencing.” Room service arrived, and she briefly considered asking Gale to answer the door (since she was pantless, and all), but judging from the sounds coming from the bathroom even more of yesterday’s festivities were making a reappearance. So she opened the door a crack, accepted the toothbrush and toothpaste, and passed the money back out.
Thirty minutes later, they had mostly reassembled themselves into something resembling people. Gale had his shirt back on and Madge was in her dress, the remains of her makeup scraped off her face. Gale had offered his suit jacket, but she felt like that would be even more obvious. He still looked unnervingly grey, however, and Madge was avoiding looking at her haggard reflection in the mirror. But this was as good as they were going to get, so they left the room and Madge hurried to the curb to hail a cab while Gale signed off on the room.
Safely ensconced in the cab, both of them let out a sigh of relief. It was overly hot and muggy for early September, and just the few minutes outside were enough to make her dizzy again. After a brief consultation they agreed to go to Madge’s place first, and although the cabbie was sending them dubious looks in his mirror they made it without incident. Gale helped her out onto the sidewalk, paying the cabbie and grabbing her arm since she’d gotten a little wobbly upon her exit. Madge protested, telling Gale to just take the cab back to his place, but he brushed off her objections. He was going to make sure she made it to her apartment in one piece, and that meant door to door service.
By the second floor landing, Madge was cursing herself for wanting a top floor apartment. Who in their right mind agrees to live in a four story building without an elevator? Madge Undersee, apparently. And she was going to die, right here on the second floor landing, for her folly. “Gale, wait. I can’t. I’ve gotta sit down for a minute.” She sat down with an oof on the bottom step and Gale sank down beside her, breathing far more heavily than usual. And he still smelled like vodka, which was gross and not helping Madge feel any better. She prayed that her nosy second floor neighbor would still be at church, because the last thing she needed was another church flyer stuffed under her door. That had happened when she kicked Gloss out, and they’d started yelling at each other in the hallway.
Gale’s phone beeped with a text message, and he swore violently when he read it.
“What now?” Madge asked, hoping there wasn’t some out-of-town girlfriend or something.
“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just Thom is having Thresh and the guys over to watch the game. Which means yelling and alcohol, and my head is about to split open as it is.”
Madge thought for a second before responding. “Then just stay here for the day. I’ve got plenty of space, and I can promise no yelling or alcohol.”
Gale nudged her with his shoulder before standing up and offering her a hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Undersee.” He pulled her to her feet, and with a lot of heavy breathing and leaning on each other, they made it to the fourth floor.
Inside her apartment, a black streak of fur ran past them, hissing when he reached the couch. “That’s Horatio,” she explained. “He hates it when I leave, and he hates guys more.” She knew Horatio would be hiding under the couch for the better part of the day to show his displeasure at her absence and Gale’s presence. It wasn’t that he had to go without food and water—she had one of those automatic set ups, since sometimes the partners demanded she work insanely long hours at the firm—but he generally hid for a while if she hadn’t come home the night before. And he had yet to like any guy who had come to her apartment—even Peeta, and Peeta had Prim’s mangy beast wrapped around his finger.
Gale hung his jacket on a hook next to the door and toed his shoes off, shifting from foot to foot. “So…is it all right if I go pass out on your couch?”
“Actually, just use my bed. I’m going to shower and then I’ll probably watch TV. That okay?”
He nodded vaguely, padding into the kitchen and opening cupboards. “Where are your glasses? We should probably have some more water.”
“Top left, near the sink,” she called, pulling her heels off and heading toward the bedroom. Gale followed her in moments later, wordlessly handing her a glass of ice water and setting his down on the floor next to the bed. He sank down onto her bed and then flopped backwards, his feet still on the floor.
“I’ve said this before, but this time I mean it. I’m never drinking again,” Gale announced, throwing an arm up over his eyes.
Madge murmured her assent, preoccupied with twisting her arms around her back and trying to get the damn zipper unstuck. She heard movement behind her, and then Gale was standing there, gently moving her hair over her shoulder and slowly unzipping her dress. His knuckle grazed her lower back, and she knew that if she was capable of feeling something other than absolutely horrible at the moment, it would have sent shivers down her spine. She turned her head slightly, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. She whispered her thanks and escaped into the adjoining bathroom, clutching her dress to her chest.
It took 20 minutes of standing (well, mostly sitting) under the showerhead before Madge felt like moving. She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, silently cursing herself for not having the foresight to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom. Granted, Gale had seen her topless and vomiting this morning (a memory that would probably always make her cringe) and they’d had sex the night before, but she felt oddly uncomfortable with the idea of changing in front of him. It was just so…domestic. She put on her glasses, wrapped herself securely in the towel and opened the door to the bedroom where Gale was (fortunately, for her) passed out on his back, snoring lightly. He had stripped down to his boxer briefs again, and she found herself transfixed by the dark smattering of hair on his chest and lower abdomen, arrowing down to—nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. She shook her head. This was exactly the sort of thinking that had gotten her into this mess, and now she was more hungover than she had ever been before and Gale Hawthorne was asleep in her bed. Chastising herself, she tiptoed past the bed and into the closet, quickly dressing in yoga pants, a tank top, and old grey wrap. It wasn’t her prettiest outfit ever, but, as she reminded herself, they were a little beyond trying to impress each other at this point.
Out in the living room, she settled down in her favorite corner of the couch, the water Gale had gotten for her perched on the end table and a pack of saltines resting on the blanket in her lap (she kept the air conditioning blasting, her one major extravagance. She hated feeling hot, even if it meant her feet were usually freezing). There would be lot of crumbs to clean up from the saltines, but she was too tired to care. Her head was still throbbing and her stomach felt like she was on a boat, but at least she was showered and in comfy clothes. So she fired up her AppleTV, chose a random season of Law & Order: SVU on Netflix, and sat back, hoping that eventually she wouldn’t feel like something she’d scrapped off a shoe.
Sometime later—she wasn’t sure how long, but it was definitely a different episode playing than the one she remembered—Madge awoke to Gale shuffling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs, his arms crossed over the broad, smooth planes of his chest, his hair dripping with water. He’d apparently just showered, and she watched as a droplet of water fell from his shaggy dark hair onto his shoulder and began rolling—she stopped herself again. Focus, Madge. Gale seemed a little dazed as well, looking at her a little more intensely than the situation called for. Somehow, the look on his face reminded her his reaction to her CEO outfit that time he’d visited Katniss sophomore year. Wait, why was she thinking about that weekend? That was ages ago. She realized he was talking, but she hadn’t heard a word. Shit. Shitshitshit. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I was asking if there’s any chance you’ve got a pair of yoga pants that fit me, but I’m guessing the answer is no.”
She started to shake her head, but then remembered something. She pushed herself off the couch—still way too difficult for her, considering she was a relatively-in-shape adult— dislodging Horatio in the process, who had condescended to come out from his hiding place and sit in her lap at some point while she slept. She headed back to her bedroom, rummaging around in the back of her closet until she found what she was looking for. In the living room, Gale had flopped onto the love seat perpendicular to the big sofa, but he was so tall his knees were draped over one arm, his feet dangling. She dropped the t-shirt and sweatpants she’d found onto his stomach. “Here. They’re probably a little wide and a little short for you, but they should fit okay.” He held them up with a questioning look. She sighed. “They were Gloss’, all right? He left them here when I dumped him, and I just didn’t feel like dealing with him again so I kept them.”
Gale cleared his throat. “Gloss, eh?” He put the sweatpants on, and as she suspected, they were several inches too short. He rolled his eyes at the t-shirt, a beat up old Hooters shirt that Gloss had been inexplicably attached to. (In retrospect, there had been more than one red flag about him.)
She curled back up on the couch, annoyed that she was going to have to tell the story. “I know, it’s a dumb name. And he loved that fucking shirt, but don’t ask me why. He was a friend of some law school friends, and they set us up. We only dated for maybe three months, and two months in he just, like, moved in. He still had an apartment and everything, he just decided he liked mine better and made space for himself in a drawer.”
“I’m surprised you put up with that, Undersee.”
“Well, I wasn’t thrilled, but at first I thought maybe I was overreacting.” An only child, Madge had never really had to share her space with anyone except Katniss during college, and Katniss lived so spartanly it really wasn’t much of a problem. So at first, when Gloss was suddenly everywhere, she told herself that this was just how it was, that this is what it was like to share an apartment with someone when you’re in a relationship. Madge liked her space, and her things being exactly where she’d left them, and having Gloss around all the time started raising her stress level. But she didn’t feel like bringing this up to Gale “I grew up in a tiny house with three siblings and still have a roommate at age thirty for no discernable reason” Hawthorne. She didn’t think he’d understand. “Anyway, about a week after that he lost his job, and then he really was here all the time, and he started hinting that I should just let him move in because it would be cheaper. It wasn’t so much that he was here a lot, it was that when he washere, he didn’t do anything. I still had to cook dinner for both of us—even if I had to work late. He never even offered. And one night, we were out to dinner and he casually announced that he was going to cancel his lease the next day, without even asking if it would be all right with me. So I walked out of the restaurant, came back here, and starting packing all his shit up. I missed those things in the purge and getting them back to him seemed like a low priority.”
Gale chuckled, rearranging himself on the love seat so his head was nearer to her. “Remind me never to cross you, Undersee. But I would have paid to see that.”
She smiled to herself, reaching for the remote to unpause the episode, but Gale interrupted. “Wait, what’s a lawyer doing watching Law and Order: SVU? Shouldn’t you hate this shit? And if this is the episode with Jennifer Love Hewitt, can we please watch a different one? Like the one where Cragen has a monkey in a basketball?”
“Putting aside your encyclopedic knowledge of this show for a second, yes, I should probably hate it but I’ve been watching it for much longer than I’ve been a lawyer. And while their understanding of what, exactly, constitutes a warrant is pretty abysmal, it’s still comforting to me. And why do you know so much about this show? Did your mom have a crush on Stabler or something?
He shook his head. “She’s more of a Jack McCoy lady, actually. I was the one with the crush on Olivia Benson.” He twisted his neck so he could grin at her. “Just hit play, Undersee.”
So she did, and somehow, the hours ticked by. They shared the crackers and took turns refilling each other’s water, calling out the twists to episodes as they remembered them. Two episodes in, Horatio abandoned her for Gale’s stomach, earning her a smug smile from Gale. Later, Gale made them both toast, which helped. Despite the fact that her body felt like she might, in fact, be dying, she was almost enjoying herself.
As the sky darkened outside, Gale pushed himself into a sitting position. “There’s a pretty good ramen place not too far from here, you know. Think they do take out?”
Madge shrugged, but agreed that if she was going to be able to eat anything, ramen would probably do the trick. Gale called in the order, and 30 minutes later they were perched on stools next to each other in her kitchen. The ramen was delicious, and by the time she finished her bowl she was feeling fairly human again. Judging from the color that had returned to his cheeks—and the fact that he kept twisting his stool so that his knees would knock into hers, and then giggling at himself– Gale was feeling the same way. He’d be leaving soon, she realized, suddenly registering that she wasn’t quite ready for him to go. She’d spent the day feeling like she got hit by a freight train, but it was also somehow one of the best days she’d had in a long time. He stood up and grabbed her bowl, carrying it to the sink and rinsing it. Gale leaned against the island, resting on his elbows. His hands were clasped just in front of her; all she had to do was move her hands a few inches forward, but she found herself frozen. Gale didn’t seem to be able to look her in the eye either, focusing instead on his hands.
“Madge, it’s been really great being here today, but—“
“Don’t go,” she blurted, unable to stop herself. “I was…I was going to take a bath in a bit. You should stay.”
Gale’s head snapped up, his eyebrows almost disappearing under the shock of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Uh, what?”
Madge’s face burned as she trained her eyes on the counter top. Did I really just say that? Shit. Shitshitshit. The easy intimacy of the day had made her forget that he was just a one-night stand. A one-night stand who spent the day with her recovering from the activities that had led to said one-night stand, but still. She stammered about how a bath is her usual cure for a hangover, trying to figure out a way to make this not the most awkward situation ever, but Gale stopped her.
“Madge,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”
It took her a second, but she raised her head and made eye contact with him. His dark grey eyes were soft, and maybe it was her imagination but it seemed like the tips of his ears were turning dark red. Without even thinking, she reached out and knotted her fingers with his, and he let out a deep breath. “If you want me to stay, I will. Why don’t you go run the bath, and I’ll handle the dishes.”
Overwhelmed by the need to escape, she nodded and slid off the stool. In the bathroom, she closed the door and rested her forehead against it. Shit. Did I really just ask Gale Hawthorne to take a bathwith me? What the fuck is wrong with me? Even weirder was the fact that he seemed to haveaccepted. She cranked the knobs above the bath, a deep, claw footed tub that had been one of the major selling points for her when she rented the apartment. It would take a while to fill up, so she paced the bathroom, trying to work the jitters out. She heard the clinking of dishes from the kitchen and considered telling him to just put them in the dishwasher, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back out there. And it was only a couple of bowls and spoons, she reasoned, it wasn’t like there was a ton to do. So she stayed in the bathroom, trying not to freak out.
The tub was nearly filled, but Gale still hadn’t entered the bathroom. Wracked with nerves, she opened the door to her bedroom only to find Gale standing there, looking desperately uncomfortable. “I, ah, wasn’t sure, I mean, I didn’t know, if, uh,” he stuttered, his ears definitely red now.
Somehow, his nervousness calmed her down. She reached out and grabbed his hand, wordlessly pulling him into the bathroom. She started shedding her clothes, still not quite able to speak but a little more sure of herself. He watched her quietly, softly trailing a finger over her shoulder and upper arm. When she was bare, he held a hand out and helped her into the tub before crossing his arms and pulling off his shirt. The sweatpants and boxer briefs went next and he slid into the tub behind her, hissing when his feet hit the hot water. “Jesus Christ, Undersee. Are you part Targaryen?”
“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she deadpanned, the tension broken. She settled her back against his chest, resting between his legs and letting her head drop back against his shoulder. It was as if the awkwardness of the past few minutes had never existed. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as they talked, her fingers drawing idle patterns on his kneecaps. They lapsed into silence, and he placed a soft kiss where her shoulder met her neck. It occurred to her that even though this was probably the most intimate day she’d ever had, they hadn’t kissed since the night before. Her memories of the previous night seemed less strange now, but she still didn’t feel quite prepared to examine them, or think about what last night, or even today, might mean. So, like the emotionally healthy adult she was, she changed the subject. “Why do you live with Thom?”
“Hmm?” Gale was distracted, whispering kisses up and down the nape of her neck.
“Why do you live with Thom? I mean, you’re thirty. Why have a roommate?” She cringed at the way her question sounded, almost accusatory and probably too invasive.
Gale shrugged, sloshing water around the tub. “I did live on my own for a bit, after Rory moved in with Prim. I didn’t like it much—I’m used to living with people, I guess. So when Thom broke up with his girlfriend and needed a place to stay, it just made sense.” He slid his hands over hers on the edge of the tub. “Besides, it gives me the perfect excuse for not going home when I want to spend a day with a beautiful woman.”
She made a face, craning her neck so she could look at him. “Is that so?”
Gale responded by kissing the tip of her nose and wrapping his arms more securely around her. Madge sighed in contentment, glad that she hadn’t offended him and happy that whatever this was, it was so…easy.
Fifteen minutes later, the water was cooling and their fingers were wrinkled and pruny. Madge climbed out first, grabbing her towel and handing another one to Gale. In her room, she threw on an old t-shirt from a law school fundraising 5k and pulled back the covers. Gale was back into his boxer briefs, but before he could put his pants back on she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. “Madge, I should…we both have to work tomorrow,” he protested. But Madge just quietly climbed into bed, holding the covers open for him. With a gentle smile he slid in after her, pulling her close so her cheek rested against his chest. “Just for a little while, okay? Then I have to go.” But Madge was already drifting off to sleep.