#i’m crying over everlark again who’s surprised??

[javistg]

A Second Chance CH 3.

It’s been almost two years since I posted Chapter 2 but Chapter 3 is finally ready!

I want to dedicate this chapter to @mega-aulover, @567inpanem, @katnissdoesnotfollowback, @hutchhitched, @justajjfan, @thegirlfromoverthepond, @booksrockmyface, @albinokittens300, @animekpopxx, @alliswell21, @alwayseverlark, @nightlock-1989, @katnissmeowverdeen, @mandelion82, @norbertsmom, @rosegardeninwinter, @everybirdfellsilent, @thelettersfromnoone, @mrspeetamellark, @taylerwrites, @ameliaodair, @everlark-always, @emilia206 and everyone else who joined this year’s @everlarkficexchange. 

Thank you all for bringing inspiration back into my inbox, for reminding me of how fun it is to create something and to share it with this wonderful fandom.

Also, @theeverlarkingmoose this chapter is for you. Your words of encouragement made me want to go back and re-read what I had written. Everything started falling in place after that ❤️ 

Based on prompt 110: A time travel AU: Katniss from Mockingjay, (any part of the book, it's up to you), winds up back the day before her sister's first reaping. What does she do now that she knows what's coming? Now that she knows how Peeta feels about her, and she knows how desperately she needs him, and what they could share? What on earth could she, or should she, even do/change? And what is she should lose it all again? [submitted by @wingletblackbird For EFE 2019]

To read from the beginning, you can go to AO3 or FF.net

CHAPTER 3.

The tribute train speeds along, silently hovering over the tracks on its way to the Capitol.

Alone in her compartment, Katniss cries. The hope and joy from the previous day are gone. Sorrow and defeat fill her heart as she sits on the bed.

Clutching a bag full of frosted cookies against her chest, she tries to come to terms with the fact that the unthinkable has happened again.

Covering her eyes from the glaring summer sun, an effervescent Effie Trinket walked onto the stage and pulled Prim's name out of a giant glass bowl.

For the second time in her life, Katniss stepped forward and volunteered to take her sister's place.

The crowd parted to let her through. Prim cried. Gale carried her away.

A silent District 12 saluted their tribute. Haymitch interrupted the proceedings with his drunken antics, and a rattled Effie called out Peeta's name.

After finishing the Treaty of Treason, the mayor prompted the tributes to shake hands.

Sorrow, pain, and an unexpected dash of hope danced in Peeta's eyes as he looked straight at her and gently squeezed her hand. Comforted by the gesture she no longer confused with a nervous spasm, Katniss squeezed back.

The goodbyes at the Justice Building were just as bad as she remembered them.

Katniss had thought it would be easier. She had imagined that knowing she had a real shot at coming back would help her be more convincing, more generous.

She wanted to be kinder to her mother --who had already proven she was strong enough to keep on going while Katniss was away-- and to leave her sister with a sense of certainty, with a bit of hope to cling to.

But, as soon as Prim started crying, Katniss's fears took over, and her resolutions melted as quickly as a blanket of snow.

In the end, history repeated itself, and Katniss used up most of her time going over all the practical stuff Prim and her mother needed to know. Right before the Peacekeepers barged in, the three Everdeen women hugged and promised, once again, that they would try their best.

Once her family left, Mr. Mellark delivered his cookies. The baker was just as quiet this time around, but Katniss didn't mind. Instead of fretting over his intentions, she was grateful for his generosity and kindness.

The door opened again, and Madge came in like a whirlwind, holding out the mockingjay pin and talking about district tokens.

"I'll bring it back," Katniss promised as her friend leaned in to fix the bird to her dress.

Madge kissed her friend's cheek. "I'm counting on that."

Madge had barely left the room when Gale walked in.

His eyes were dark and stormy, but when he opened his arms, she walked straight into them.

Their breakfast that morning hadn't been as pleasant as the one she remembered. Instead of joking around and talking about escaping into the woods, Gale had been surly and quiet.  

To Katniss's relief, he hadn't mentioned Peeta or her stroll around the Meadow the previous afternoon. It didn't matter. His contribution to the meal, a day-old tesserae grain roll that could have only come from the Hob, spoke louder than any words ever could.

Gale Hawthorne hadn't been in the mood to stop by the bakery that morning.  

"Listen," he said, stepping away from their embrace to look at her face. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance."

Katniss smiled. There he was, her friend, her partner, the man who was willing to put his own feelings aside, like he'd done in Thirteen, to help and support her.

No matter what, Gale had her back. Even if he wasn't thrilled with her right now, he would keep her family safe.

"You know how to kill," Gale insisted as they discussed strategies.

"Not people," she muttered.

"How different can it be, really?" A grim remark uttered in a moment of despair. She had never liked it but, after surviving two arenas, it made her furious.

"It's incredibly different!" Katniss yelled. Anger and dread danced in her veins as she remembered where she was headed to. "I'd be killing a person, Gale! A person! I'd be erasing their thoughts, their dreams, their—,"

"Listen," Gale grabbed her by the shoulders, "Catnip, you can't think that way. Not in the arena. You need to remember, only one comes out, right?"

Only one. The words were oddly familiar. Numb, Katniss nodded.

"Say it,” he pressed.

"They have to have a victor," Katniss whispered. Looking up into Gale's silver eyes, she repeated, "Only one comes out."

"That's it, and you can be the one. You can be the one who comes home, back to Prim, back to your mother. Because that's all that matters, right? They are all that matters."

"Right."

Pulling her back into his arms, Gale lowered his head to her ear and whispered, "You can do this, Katniss. Just… promise me, you won't let anyone distract you."

Anyone. He meant Peeta, of course. But Peeta wasn’t a distraction, he was her mission.

Clinging to his embrace to soak up his warmth, she promised, “I won’t.”  

A Peacekeeper walked in.

Always the nonconformist, Gale asked for more time. He was granted none.

"Don't let them starve!" Katniss cried out, panicked, as her friend was escorted out of the room.

"I won't!" Gale vowed. "You know I won't!"

XXXXX




By the time Effie comes to collect her for supper, Katniss's tears have dried up.




Resigned to her fate, Katniss follows her escort through the narrow, rocking corridor into the dining room where Peeta sits, waiting for them.




At the sight of him, Katniss's breath hitches. This is the Peeta she knows best. Capitol clothes, winning smile, and a touch of… heartbreak in his eyes.




That wasn't there earlier, Katniss thinks. What happened? As Peeta's eyes flit away, she suddenly remembers. His mother.




Yes, Mrs. Mellark just told her youngest son that he's not good enough to come back from the arena.  




She wants to run to his side, to wrap her arms around him, press a kiss on his forehead, and soothe his pain away.




She wishes with all her heart that she could tell him that the Witch and her bitterness don't matter, but she can't. Instead, she bites her lip, takes the empty chair by his side, and waits for Effie to start giving instructions.




The supper comes in courses. The starter, a thick carrot soup, is followed by a green salad.




Katniss is reaching for the platter with the lamb chops and mashed potatoes when Peeta leans into her side and casually says, "So… when you said you'd be at the back…"




Surprised, Katniss glances back at him. The teasing glint in his eyes brings a smile to her lips. "I guess I meant the front," she says, stabbing a lamb chop with her fork and dropping it on her plate. With a coy shrug, she adds, "I confuse them sometimes."




Peeta's retort is interrupted by Effie's shrill voice. "Oh! Are you two friends?"




Katniss freezes, but Peeta quickly comes to her rescue. "Not really," he says, ladling a dollop of mashed potatoes on his plate, "we go to school together, that's all."




Effie takes this news with a polite nod. Just as they're about to finish the main course, she speaks again. "At least, you two have decent manners," she says. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."




Katniss narrows her eyes. Over the last couple of years, she's come to appreciate Effie, but her comment still disgusts her. So, once again, she makes a point of eating the rest of her meal with her fingers and wiping her hands on the tablecloth when she's done.




Bewildered, Effie straightens up in her chair, pursing her pink lips in shocked disapproval.




Good, Katniss thinks with a satisfied smirk. Things are just as they should be.

XXXXX




Katniss's first day in the Capitol is almost an exact replica of her previous one.




Her prep team scrubs and strips every inch of her body, removing all her hair and leaving her like a plucked bird, ready for roasting.




Later, when Cinna walks into the room, Katniss rolls her hands into tight fists and, somehow, manages to stop herself from lunging into his arms.




XXXXX




The carriage ride around the City Circle is a huge success.  




While Portia is busy extinguishing the last of the artificial flames, Katniss reluctantly lets go of Peeta's hand.




"Thanks for keeping hold of me," says Peeta massaging his hand, "I was getting a little shaky there."  




"It didn't show," Katniss tells him. "I'm sure no one noticed."




"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you," he replies, looking boldly into her eyes, "You should wear flames more often. They suit you."




Then, he does it again. He flashes her that smile, the one she knows he saves just for her, genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness.




Warmth rushes through her, and she bites her lip to keep from smiling too widely. She used to feel so vulnerable whenever this happened --like Peeta was in control, and she couldn't trust herself around him-- but she knows better now. Peeta's not trying to manipulate her, he's just paying her a compliment, and he's damned good at it!




No warning bells go off. No thoughts of hidden agendas, or strategies, or games cross Katniss's mind. Only joy and affection propel her as she stands on tiptoe and kisses his cheek, right on his bruise.




XXXXX




When Katniss notices the red-headed Avox at the dinner table later that night, she doesn't even flinch.




With watchful eyes, she follows the girl's movements and tries not to think about Darius —or the way he looked at her the last time they saw each other in that same room.




Taking a bite of her cake, Katniss glances back at Peeta and wonders —just for an instant— if he ever saw what Effie called the "matching set" while Snow kept him captive.




The thought is too painful to even consider, so she stops poking at it and goes back to the conversation around the table.




Later, as she lies in bed looking at images of a slow trickling stream projected on her wall, she silently berates herself for her silence. Her original reaction hadn't really hurt anyone, but it had led to Peeta covering for her and showing her the rooftop garden.




She longs to go there now. It's the only place where she can breathe, and she's sure Peeta's there already, looking down unto the Capitol skyline. But how can she join him when no one in this timeline has shown her the way?




The answer is so simple it makes her laugh. The terrace isn't exactly hidden, and Peeta knows she's an illegal hunter who sneaks under an electrified fence every day. He won't question her if she says she just stumbled upon it while exploring the apartment.




Katniss steps into the cool, windy evening air. Twelve floors down, the Capitol twinkles like a vast field of fireflies. It's a familiar sight by now, but it still fills her with wonder.




Peeta's already there, standing by the railing at the edge of the roof. His eyes widen when he sees her approach.




"How did you find this place?" Katniss asks, trying her best to sound surprised.




"Cinna showed me," Peeta says. "You?"




"I did some exploring."




Katniss reaches his side, and they both turn to look out onto the skyline.

"You can practically see the whole city," Peeta says.




They stand there for a few minutes, enjoying the show of flickering lights, listening to the wind chimes behind them and the noises from the city below.




They're standing so close together that she can feel the warmth radiating off of him. A little closer and I would smell his scent, she thinks, hoping she could wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his shirt.




"A penny for your thoughts," Peeta asks.




Startled out of her reverie, Katniss laughs, "A penny? Is that the going rate in town?"




Peeta shrugs. "I guess. It's just something my grandmother used to say."




She's heard this before, back on their victory tour, but she still asks, "Which grandmother?"




"Grandma Mellark. She had tons of sayings, one for every occasion. She died when I was ten, but I still remember some of them." After a short pause, he asks, "How about you? Do you remember your grandparents?"




"No. I never met them."




Peeta turns towards her. The earnest curiosity dancing in his eyes tugs at her heart. "Never?"




Katniss shakes her head. "I know my mother's parents ran the apothecary up until a few years ago, but we never went there. I might have seen them on the street, but…"




"And on your father's side?"




"They both died before I was born. I don't know much about them, just that they knew a lot about plants and that my grandmother loved music. My dad used to say that she could remember any song after only hearing it once and that she had a beautiful voice."




Peeta's hushed words are almost lost in the din of the wind chimes, but they reach her all the same. "Just like yours."




She's about to contradict him but, when she looks up, her mind goes blank. Peeta's looking back at her with a tenderness and warmth that still haunts her dreams.

“I don’t sing,” she hears herself say.




"But you used to,” Peeta says, “back when we were little.”




It's almost like being back in the cave. Her skin tingles, her heart soars.

Flustered, Katniss asks, "You remember that?"




Peeta looks away. His cheeks turn beet red as he softly admits, "I do."  

Her heart's hammering madly against her rib cage now.

For an instant, she thinks he's going to tell her the story again, the one about their first day of school and the teacher asking her to sing; but he does no such thing.

Keeping his eyes on the horizon, Peeta straightens up and pushes himself away from her and the railing.




Disappointed, Katniss turns away.

Deep down, she's also relieved. As much as she wants to regain the closeness she once shared with Peeta, she knows they're not ready yet.




Unlike her, Peeta doesn't know what their future holds. He likes her well enough, but they're training for the Games. He still needs to keep his distance from his district partner.




Satisfied that she's done plenty for one night, Katniss stretches her arms over her head and fakes a yawn. "We should get some rest," she says.




"Yeah. Tomorrow's going to be a big, big, big day!"




Katniss laughs. Peeta's impersonation of their escort has always been pitch-perfect.




They climb the stairs together. When they reach the corridor that leads up to their rooms, Peeta whispers, "Good night, Katniss."




The words wrap around her heart, soothing her like no morphling ever did. She's still savoring them when she whispers back, "Good night, Peeta."




XXXXX




It's a little before ten when Katniss and Peeta step out of the elevator and into the Training Center. The other tributes are already there gathered in a circle around Atala, the head trainer.




As soon as the tall woman starts to talk, Katniss tunes her out. She's heard the little speech twice already. She doesn't need to listen to it again.




Beside her, Peeta lets out a small sigh.




He's frustrated, Katniss thinks. She considers reaching out to squeeze his hand but stops herself, knowing that Peeta probably won’t welcome the gesture right now.

She can’t blame him, not after the morning they've had.




The discussion over their individual skills at breakfast had been slightly less contentious this time around, but not by much.




After mentioning Katniss’s abilities, Peeta had still brought up his mother's hurtful parting words.




Katniss had been less cagey. She had managed to keep the bread incident out of the conversation, but Peeta's comment about the effect she had on people had —once again— raised her hackles. Not because she had felt insulted, lile the first time, but because she’d been reminded of everything she’d lost.




As she saw the old Peeta willing to give his life for her, she couldn’t help but think of the other version of him; the version she had left behind in District 13. That Peeta hated her. He had gone through hell and back to be with her and now he wanted her dead.




Who knows? She bitterly told herself after Haymitch dismissed them. Maybe this magical effect of mine doesn't last very long. Maybe, one day, the whole country will wake up and hate me too.




XXXXX




While Atala reads down the list of the skill stations, Katniss can't keep her eyes from flitting around the room.




Marvel. Clove. Cato. Fox-face. Thresh. Rue.




Her chest tightens. These are the faces that haunt her dreams. The voices that echo in her nightmares.




Katniss bites her lip to keep from screaming. Her palms are clammy, her heart is racing, but she doesn't move an inch.




This is the hardest thing she's had to do so far, and she needs to get it right. She can't let the others see her distress.




Slowly averting her eyes, she reminds herself, My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me, but I came back.




Katniss breathes. In. Out. In. Out.




Her heart rate is almost back to normal when she finishes. I came back to make Snow pay.




She's still lost in her thoughts when Peeta nudges her arm and makes her jump.




His expression is sober. "Where would you like to start?"




Katniss looks around at the Career Tributes who are already showing off, clearly trying to intimidate the field. Then at the others, the underfed, the incompetent, shakily having their first lessons with a knife or an ax.




"Suppose we tie some knots," she says.




"Right you are," says Peeta.




XXXXX




They spend their morning trying out different skills.




Now that she knows what type of arena awaits her, Katniss realizes that the stations are full of clues. The kinds of ropes they use at the knot-tying class. The mud, clay, and berry juices available in the camouflage section. They all seem so obvious now that she knows they'll be going to a forest.




When they reach the medicinal plants' section, Katniss stops short. The last time she was here, she practically skipped it, but she's on a different mission now, so she walks in and makes sure Peeta follows.




A big screen shows pictures of plants with a brief description underneath.




Katniss flips through the crisp images until she finds what she's looking for: the leaves Rue used to treat her.




"These are great!" she enthusiastically tells Peeta. "They fight off infection, bring down swelling, and numb the pain. They're handy when you've been stung by insects or bees. You have to chew them up into a pulp and spit them on top of your wound."




Peeta wrinkles his nose. "Spit them?"




"Yeah," Katniss confirms, "Otherwise, you won't release their properties. My mother would use other methods, but…" Lowering her voice, she adds, "Sometimes you don't have a lot of options when you're out in the woods."




Apparently satisfied with her answer, Peeta nods. After glancing around to make sure no one is listening, he whispers, "Have you been stung many times?"




"Only twice," Katniss admits, "I immediately pulled the stingers out and put the leaves on top. It wasn't so bad."




Peeta's eyes are locked on the screen as he says, "Maybe I should stuff my pockets with these if I ever find any in the arena. You know? Just in case."




"It won't hurt," Katniss agrees, holding on to the hope that he will do just that.




XXXXX




On the second night of her training, Katniss decides to go back to the rooftop.




Peeta is already there. He's sitting on a bench by the flower beds with a sketchpad propped up against his bent knee. The little bundle of pencils she gave him back in District Twelve rests by his side.




She can tell he's distracted, so she clears her throat to make her presence known.




"Hey!" Peeta calls out. He looks tired, but his smile is sweet and welcoming.




"Mind if I join you?" she asks.




Peeta pats the empty seat next to him, and Katniss walks over.  




A small sigh escapes her as she sits down. Her daytime routine hasn't been as tiring this time around, but she's still beat.




"Nice pad," she says.




"It's Portia's," Peeta runs his fingers along the edge of the paper in a reverent caress. "She said I could borrow it."




Anticipating her next question, Peeta tilts the pad in her direction.




Katniss gasps. The angle of the image is one she cannot place, but there's no doubt in her mind, Peeta has painted her woods.




Reaching for the corner of the pad so as not to smudge his drawing, she asks, "Where is this?"




"It's the view from my house."




Katniss narrows her eyes, the bakery is in the center of town, but Peeta hasn't included any buildings in his picture. "Your house?"




"There's an attic that we use for storage. I like to go up there sometimes. It's higher than most buildings in the district, so you get to see all the way out into the woods."




Katniss stares at the drawing and tells herself not to cry, but it's not easy. Not when Prim and District Twelve are so far away, not when Peeta is opening up to her in ways he never did before.




"Do you like it?" Peeta asks.




The nervous tremor in his voice tugs at her heart; she reaches for his arm and gives him a reassuring squeeze. "Of course I do! Peeta, it's extraordinary! Prim's right. You're very talented."




Peeta shakes his head and accepts the compliment with a quiet, "Thank you."




Letting go of him, Katniss settles in her seat, resting her back against the wall and stretching her legs. Nodding to his pad, she says, "Go on. Don't let me interrupt."




Peeta starts drawing again.




Katniss watches, mesmerized, as his hand dances over the paper, making the blank page bloom with delicate strokes of color.




They stay like that for a while, side by side on the bench, wrapped in peaceful silence, enjoying each other's presence and silently wishing for more time.




XXXXX




As soon as the anthem is over, Katniss makes a beeline out of the Training Center lobby and onto the elevator bank. Moving swiftly, she veers into a car that does not contain Peeta.




The crowd slows the entourages of stylists and mentors and chaperones. Soon, Katniss finds herself alone with only other tributes for company. No one speaks.




The elevator stops to deposit four tributes before she's alone. One quick breath is all she has time for before the doors open on the twelfth floor.




Peeta has only just stepped from his car when she slams her palms into his chest and pushes him towards the wall.




Peeta loses his balance, but the wall breaks his fall. A few inches away from him, an ugly urn filled with fake flowers stands on its pedestal, untouched.  




With Peeta safely out of harm's way, Katniss grabs the urn and smashes it on the floor, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces.




Good, she thinks as she takes a step back, I've always hated the damned thing.




"What was that for?" Peeta says, aghast.




"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" Katniss yells at him.




Before Peeta can say anything, the elevators open, and the whole crew is there, Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia.




"What's going on?" says Effie, a note of hysteria in her voice as she notices the broken urn and Peeta slumped form against the wall. "Did you trip?”




"No," says Peeta pushing himself off the wall to straighten up, "Katniss broke it after she shoved me."




Haymitch turns on Katniss. "Shoved him?"




"This was your idea, wasn't it?" Katniss answers, "Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?"




"It was my idea," Peeta cuts in. "Haymitch just helped me with it."




The hurt in his eyes guts her, but she can't back down now. This is how she reacted the first time around, and as hard as it is, she knows she has to stick with it.




"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" she yells.




"You are a fool," Haymitch says in disgust. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."




"He made me look weak!" Katniss says.




"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!" says Haymitch.




"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.




Haymitch grabs her shoulders and pins her against the wall. "Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived…"




As Haymitch prattles on about sponsors, Katniss tunes out. She doesn't need to be convinced of anything. She already knows their strategy is the right one.  




As soon as Cinna steps into the conversation, Katniss softens. "I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid," she grumbles.




"No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," says Portia.




"She's just worried about her boyfriend," says Peeta gruffly, eyes locked on the shattered urn.




Katniss fixes him with a deadly glare. "I don't have a boyfriend."




"Whatever," says Peeta. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"




As the words sink in, an old familiar darkness envelops her. This, right here, is what has caused so much pain between them.




Even after all this time and everything they've been through, she has never been able to tell Peeta how she feels about him. Just as she's never told Gale that he's nothing more than a dear friend.




This silence, this reticence, has hurt Peeta over and over again. It's the reason why he pushed her away after their first Game and why President Snow was able to twist his mind and convince him that she was a mutt programmed to kill him.




I need to do better, she thinks. This time around, I need to do more.




Feeling all eyes on her, Katniss turns to Cinna and asks, "After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?"




"I did," says Portia. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush."




The others chime in, agreeing.




"You're golden, sweetheart," Haymitch adds. "You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block."




Worried that she's going to burst out in tears, she forces herself to acknowledge Peeta. "I'm sorry I shoved you."




"Doesn't matter," he shrugs. "The urn got it worse."




Portia and Cinna's goodnatured laughter diffuses the remaining tension.




"Come on, let's eat," says Haymitch directing everyone towards the delicious smells wafting in from the dining room.




XXXXX




The roof is not lit at night, but as soon as her bare feet reach its tiled surface, she sees his silhouette, black against the lights that shine endlessly in the Capitol.




There's quite a commotion going on down in the streets, music and singing and car horns. Katniss knows she could slip away now without Peeta noticing her; he wouldn't hear her over the din, but that's not what she wants.




Her feet move soundlessly across the tiles. She's only a yard behind him when she says, "You should be getting some sleep."




Peeta starts but doesn't turn, just gives his head a slight shake. "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all."




She comes up beside him and leans over the edge of the rail. The wide streets are full of dancing people. Squinting to get a better look at them, she asks, "Are they in costumes?"




"Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here." Turning to her, he asks, "Couldn't sleep, either?"




"Couldn't turn my mind off," she says.




"Thinking about your family?"




"Not exactly," she admits a bit guiltily. After going through two arenas, she's not as worried about Prim and her mother as she once was. She knows they can cope without her. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course."




Facing him, she says, "I really am sorry about before."




"It doesn't matter, Katniss," Peeta says.




"I was just upset that you would share something private like that…"




Peeta nods. "I know."




"And, also… I just don't get it. I mean, why would you give me an advantage like that? You're going to need sponsors too, you know?"




Peeta shakes his head. "It won't make a difference. I've never been a contender in these Games. Not really."




Katniss reaches for his hand. "Peeta, that's no way to be thinking."




"Why not? It's true." With the gentlest of touches, Peeta runs his fingers over the back of Katniss's hand. "My best hope is to not disgrace myself and . . ." he hesitates.




With a small squeeze, she silently encourages him to continue.




"I don't know how to say it exactly," Peeta finally says. "Only . . . I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?"




Katniss swallows thickly.




Once upon a time, she stood there and told him that she didn't understand and —most importantly— that she didn't care. But she's a different person now. She knows exactly what he means and why it matters.




Although she knows what he's getting at, she still needs him to complete his thought. Shyly, she asks, "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"




"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games," says Peeta.




Her chest tightens at his words. Being back in that moment with him reminds her of everything that’s gone wrong in her life.

Before her mind can wander back into the dark recesses of her pain, she says, "The thing is, Peeta, you're not. None of us are. That's how the Games work."




"OK, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," he insists. "Don't you see?"




Katniss nods. She sees, she knows, she understands. What's more, she still can't believe she was ever so blind.




She inches closer to him so he can hear her over the ruckus of the city and the wind chimes.




In her mind, she repeats the little speech she's prepared for this moment. Every year they throw us in an arena and tell us to kill each other, and we do it. But there's a part, deep inside of us, that they don't own, a part that refuses to be pushed around and that will stand up and say, "enough, this is a line I won't cross."




But, once she opens her mouth, the words that slip from her lips are quite different, "I don't have a boyfriend."




Peeta blinks. Once. Twice. "What?"




Katniss bursts out laughing. "I'm sorry, I just…" Bewildered, she covers her face to hide her embarrassment and silently reprimand herself for losing her focus.




With a shake of her head, she straightens up. Her earnest eyes meet Peeta's. "I get what you're saying. They are forcing us to fight for our lives, but they don't get to decide how we go about it, right? We do. At the end of the day, it's up to us. We choose who to attack and who to help, when to face danger and when to hide. "




Peeta nods. "Right." Looking out into the sprawling city, he adds, "I just hope I can make the right choices, you know?"




Katniss sighs. “Yeah, me too.”




Leaning against the railing, Peeta tilts his head to look at her. The playful glint in his eyes is something she hasn't seen in a very long time. "So, you don't have a boyfriend."




Katniss shakes her head, chuckling at the absurdity of the topic.




"What about the guy who took your sister away at the reaping?"




"That's Gale."




"Uh-huh," Peeta's head bobs up and down as he nods. "And Gale is…"




Katniss looks up at him. He's so open, so pure, right now that all her thoughts about plans and strategies melt away. "He's just a friend," she says.




Peeta's smile forms slowly, warm and genuine, a little flirty even. It makes her whole body tingle. "Just a friend, huh? Does he know that?"




Katniss's jaw goes slack. Back in the day, she would have answered with a resounding "yes, of course, he does" but, that answer doesn't really fit the situation. She knows that now. So, instead of throwing her righteous indignation at him, she asks, "What do you mean?"




Peeta shrugs. "I don't know. It's just… I thought you had something with him."




Genuinely intrigued, she asks, "Why?"




"Um," Peeta fills his lungs with crisp Capitol air. As he pushes it out, he says, "You seem to spend a lot of time together. Whenever I see you around town, you're either with him or with Prim. I used to think he was your cousin or something. You favor each other. But then... there was the look."




Katniss frowns. "The look?"




"Yeah." Peeta's shy smile makes another appearance. "He kept glaring at me the other day when we met up by the Meadow." The shocked expression on her face makes him chuckle. "I'm surprised you didn't notice."




"Well," Katniss reaches for the end of her messy braid and begins twisting it around her finger. "I wasn't focusing on him."




Peeta's lips part, but no words come out.




Blushing, Katniss turns to face the city again. "Gale and I hunt together. Our families are close. That's it."




Peeta's gentle touch on her elbow gets her attention. Kind, soft eyes gaze straight into hers when he says, "You know, Katniss, what I said earlier—,"




Impulsively, she leans forward and kisses him, stopping his words.




It takes Peeta half a second to react. In one fluid move, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him.




His lips meld with hers in a slow, sweet dance.  




After months of pain and sorrow, Katniss finally feels joy. Closing her eyes, she forgets the world and kisses him with abandon.




Peeta's free hand makes its way to the back of her head, where he buries his fingers in her hair to keep her there, rooted in his arms, anchored to him.




Elated, Katniss hums her approval.




This kiss is like the cave and the beach all rolled into one. It's like every happy moment they've ever shared together, every smile, every touch. It's like coming home after a long day, like finding her soul.




That familiar stirring inside her chest, warm and curious, comes back to life. It fills her entire being with want and need, pushing her to explore more. Blindly, she follows.




Holding on to his broad shoulders, Katniss pulls him even closer, pressing herself against his chest until she can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, beating against her own.

Smiling, Peeta begins raining kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.




Her skin tingles. Her pulse races. Her heart soars.




I'll keep you safe, she promises, holding on to him like she did back at the beach, back when they were surrounded by mutts and enemies and lies.

With one long sigh, Peeta finally pulls away, pressing his forehead to hers while they both catch their breaths.

In that brief moment of glorious harmony only one thought goes through her mind. Peeta. Every heartbeat is like a reminder. He's back, he's here, he's mine.

Glancing up, she finds his eyes, dark and dazed, and she knows. Whatever this is, Peeta feels it too. He always has.  




"Katniss—,"




"No," she interrupts again, placing her fingers on his lips to quiet him. She hates what she's about to do, but she doesn't have a choice.




She takes a step away from him and immediately feels lost. "You have a plan for tomorrow, right?"




Peeta's face falls at the sudden reminder of why they're there. He nods.




Reaching forward, Katniss brushes the hair back from his forehead in one last tender caress. "That's what you need to focus on, OK? Just think about—,"




"Staying alive?" Peeta finishes, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.  




Katniss cups his cheek. "Exactly." Her heart skips a beat when he leans into her touch, but she still insists, "This doesn't change anything that happens tomorrow, Peeta. It can't."




"I know," he says, covering her hand with his and pressing a kiss to her palm. "It just changes everything that's happened until today."




Katniss bites her lip and nods. Peeta's right. Even for her, things are dramatically different now. There's so much more at stake. She knows where they stand, and she's no longer running away from him and the things he makes her feel.




Rising to the tips of her toes, she kisses him one last time. "See you tomorrow," she says.




Then, she walks away.

[jlalafics]

“Lesson Learned”-Part 1 of ?

Here I go again--this was supposed to be a one-shot, but now it’s multiple parts...

For @sunflowerslyf who requested a fic based on this post about fanfiction and porn.

I have to say that I kept a little fluff in it though...because I need it.

____

Summary: Sometimes Katniss asks too much of Peeta. This time she’s gone too far. College Everlark. Katniss and Peeta POV’s.

“So, will you do it?” I asked him, my heart pounding. “Will you help me?”

Sitting across from me on my couch, my childhood friend Peeta stares at me in shock. He’s holding my throw pillow against his chest…almost defensively.

If we’re being honest, Peeta has every reason to be wary of me. There wasn’t a day when we were children that I wasn’t coming up with some sort of idea that usually got him hurt or in trouble.

“What idiot suggested that you do this?” he asks immediately.

I look towards the closed bedroom door, where my roommate is sleeping off her hangover, before responding, “Johanna.”

“Figures,” he mutters. “I don’t think so, Katniss.” Peeta smiles gently; it’s the same smile he gives me right before he’s about the lay some truth on me—truth I usually don’t want to hear. “I mean, you’re pretty, but I don’t see you like that.”

My jaw drops at his words. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not sexually attracted to you,” he replies calmly.

It’s one step away from patting my head and calling me a ‘good girl’—and my indignation rises.

“What? My breasts aren’t big enough?” I reach over and take his hand, pressing his palm into it. “This does nothing for you?”

“I mean, of course if there’s a tit in your hand, your body is going to react.” Peeta meets my eyes, hand still on my chest. “Why is this so important to you?”

I take a deep breath. “There’s this guy.”

“And here we go…” He stands down under my glare. “Okay, so the guy?”

“He’s beautiful,” I sigh, my thoughts going to dirty blond hair and steel blue eyes. “His name is Cato and I think I’d like him…to be my first.”

My friend’s eyes soften at my declaration. “Are you sure?”

I nod eagerly. “Yes. What do you think?”

Peeta puts the pillow down, scooting over to me, before holding out his arms. “Get in here.”

Easily, I fall into them, my head going to his chest and my arms going around his lean waist.

“Please, Peeta.”

“I don’t think that he should be your first,” he tells me bluntly. “The first time usually sucks; it’s supposed to be painful and bloody for women…”

Sitting up, I contemplate his words. I know extraordinarily little when it comes to sex; my mom left us when I was ten and Dad tried his hardest, but there are some things that you need a woman for.

That’s when Peeta’s mother stepped in. She was the one who helped me when I got my period, needed my first bra, and even when I caught Peeta’s older brother tongue deep inside some girl’s mouth and I had questions.

Rye still hasn’t forgiven me for busting him out.

However, I neglected to ask her about sex.

On the other hand, asking Melsa about being penetrated is significantly different than asking her tampons versus pads.

I think I can understand why my roommate suggested I talk to Peeta. He’s known me my whole life and is never one to hold back. Neither have I and we can be painfully honest with one another. I’m surprised we’re still friends after everything we’ve shared between each other—both awkward and non-awkward.

Then it comes to me and I can feel my mouth widen into a grin.

“You have a bad idea,” Peeta says immediately. “I can already see it brewing inside that thick skull of yours.”

“You do it,” I say.

“Do what?” My friend looks me over, starting down from my face to the breasts he had been reluctantly fondling, and then down to the leggings—or specifically the V between my thighs. His eyes immediately widen in realization. “No.”

“You said it would be bad,” I argue. “I rather it be bad with someone who’s at least going to tell me honestly how I can make it better the next time around. Also, I won’t cry if it hurts around you.”

“Why is that?” he asked.

“Because you make me brave,” I tell him. “Every scary moment in my life, you’ve held my hand. When my mom left, you were there. When Prim got sick and ended up having an appendectomy, you were there. Even when I contemplated not going to Panem University, you held my hand as we got on the train to leave.”

“More like forced you to leave.” Peeta eyes me for a moment. “You don’t have to have sex with Cato to make him like you. If he’s a good guy, then he’ll respect your need to wait.”

“It’s not that.” I feel my mouth start to tremble. “I’ve always felt like I was little behind since Mom left. I’m just tired of not knowing anything.”

Peeta sighs. “Okay.”

“You will?” I’m practically bouncing in my seat and Peeta smiles handsomely as he watches me. Launching myself into his arms, I kiss his cheek. “You’re awesome, you know that right?”

“Seriously Katniss, you have no idea of the effect you have on me.”

++++++

Friday night

What am I doing?

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, seeing my usual mussed blond hair and blue eyes—except there’s panic in them.

There’s a buzz on my phone and I find a message from Katniss: I’m ready when you are.

It’s followed by a winky face emoji.

Putting my phone in my back pocket, I step out of the bathroom and am greeted by my roommates, Gale and Finnick, eyes on the television and controllers in their hands. Their stares momentarily catch mine as I head towards the door.

“I’ll see you guys on Sunday night,” I tell them.

“Did you tell us where you were going?” Gale asks, his eyes going back to the screen.

“Home,” I reply quickly.

If home is my friend’s vagina.

“Cool,” Finnick adds distractedly as his player has just been critically hit. “Lock the door on your way out.”

Nodding, I head down the hallway and open the front door just as Gale wins. Finnick is yelling bloody murder as I close it behind me.

Katniss’ apartment is just a few blocks away, so I opt to walk, contemplating why I agreed to do this for her. Besides the fact that I don’t want her first time to be with some douchebag—and Cato is one, based on a few people I know that used to hang with him—I want it to be something she’ll remember.

Because here’s the truth; I’ve always loved her.

As a friend and a confidant at first then sometime around high school, she became the source of many morning erections and moony-eyed stares. I was confused because for a long time I never thought of her as a girl, but as Katniss, my neighbor and friend. It was really my oldest brother Bran who opened that can of worms, remarking on how well she had grown up since the last time he saw her.

It was like a switch had turned on.

Suddenly, I couldn’t stop staring at her.

Was her hair always that shiny? Did her eyes always look so seductively smoky?

Senior year was torture for me, especially watching her go to prom with Marvel—an idiot and a douche (why does she always choose douches?), in my opinion. Though the night did end with her coming over to my house to eat cake before falling asleep during a Harry Potter marathon instead of the usual after party.

Suddenly, I’m in front of her apartment building.

Am I really going to take her virginity?

Then, there’s the other question that looms in my head: am I really going to let her take mine?

For as much bravado as I claim to have, I have no idea what I’m doing.

And, I’m a liar.

Because, despite what I told her, I am sexually attracted to Katniss, I’m attracted to her in every which way.

Taking the elevator up to her floor, I walk to her door and knock.

Katniss answers quickly, wearing nothing but a knee-length black robe.

Hot damn.

She gives me a welcoming smile, widening the door for me.

“Come in.”

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64 Ch. 3

Everlark meets marching band meets enemies to friends to lovers.

Tumblr: X X X

Read on Ao3: X X X

May  

There wasn’t a single childhood memory Katniss could pull that didn’t involve Peeta Mellark. Try as she might to ever forget they were friends—and she tried her hardest to forget—it was next to impossible. Peeta and her were, once upon a time, inseparable. Glued at the hip. Her parents used to tease that only the moonlight could separate them and even then, in the summertime, Peeta spent many nights sleeping on the living room floor next to her, giggling as they watched movies and ate popcorn, Prim snoring beside them. 

And then with her dad being an avid photographer, there were boxes of family albums documenting Katniss and Prim growing up throughout the years. From first steps to bath times together to dance and music recitals—her dad documented it all. “For future biographers,” he used to joke whenever Katniss would complain why they always had to take a picture of  everything. She’d roll her eyes in response and just let him snap away. There was no stopping the man. Now she wished she could take back all her tweenage-angst and let him take as many photos as he wanted of her. But she didn’t know what she knew now. Thus was life. 

On the rare occasion when he relented with the camera and accepted that she was not going to cooperate with any poses he suggested, Peeta was more than happy to step in and take her place, joking how his many admirers at school would kill for a candid photo of him. “It’s not candid if you’re posing, stupid,” she used to tell him, but he’d kindly tell her to shut her piehole and offer up suggestions on where to take the picture next, her dad eating Peeta’s enjoyment up with each click of the shutter. 

Peeta was in a  lot  of her family photos. It was impossible to flip through any family album after Katniss had turned three and not find him. Due to his parents constantly working at their family bakery turned mini corporation, Peeta and his older brother Rye were often left to fend for themselves and from early morning until sundown, Rye would kick Peeta out of the house and lock the door. Rye’s dickish behavior was actually how the two met—Katniss hearing Peeta screaming across their yard, asking if he was dying because he was crying by his back door, fists slamming the glass. 

“No,” he sniffed, rubbing his puffy red eyes. “My brudder—l-l-locked—me—o-o- ooout!” Peeta hiccupped, his hysteria growing with each syllable until he was back to crying for Rye to let him in.

“My daddy’s makin’ pancakes,” Katniss offered from her deck. “He makes them with funny faces and makes them sing. Want some?” 

There probably should have been some type of introduction between them before Katniss invited this total stranger into her home, but when Peeta came in with her, her dad just smiled and told him to pull up a chair. Names were finally exchanged over gooey chocolate chip pancakes and they became instant friends. 

After that, instead of crying when Rye would inevitably lock him out of his own home, Peeta would cross over to the Everdeen’s yard and walk on in, shouting out his greetings to whoever was in the kitchen at the time and seeing what she or her dad were up to for the day. There were countless memories of Katniss coming downstairs after playing with Prim and finding Peeta and her dad casually working together on the morning crossword puzzle at the kitchen table, or out in her mother’s garden doing yard work and chatting about everything and anything. He was always there, ready to hang out and see what she had in mind for them to do that day, and their photo albums showed it. Birthday parties, family dinners, sleepovers, holidays—there Peeta was, all smiles and dimples.

Peeta Mellark was a huge fixture in the Everdeen household until one day he just wasn’t. One day he was there, making her laugh so hard, milk came out her nose, and the next, he was gone and those boxes of happy family photos were just sad reminders of what used to be. 

No dad.

No best friend. 

It was fine. She was fine. 

Except maybe she wasn’t? It annoyed her that Peeta could still dig under her skin like that, his words in the locker room playing on repeat in her mind. At least her nerves about tryouts had a chance to calm down between stressing about Abernathy’s mocking jabs about her playing and her annoyance at Peeta thinking her a heartless loner. So what if she preferred to do things alone? It meant she was independent, mature for her young age. Was that such a bad thing? 

And what was up with accusing her of not being there for people? Not caring for them? Did she have to remind him that he made his choice and ditched  her ? That the second her dad died, he split? Was he ever really her friend, or was he just using her to get to her dad because his dad wasn’t around? Katniss had been wondering that for years, but didn’t have the courage to ask because she just knew if she did, she’d start to cry and shout at him and maybe shove him a bit and he and his stupid friends would laugh and probably call her a psychopath bitch.

What a fucking hypocrite Peeta Mellark was, calling her heartless when he was guilty of so much worse. 

The final bell rang at last, freeing everyone for the day. Katniss was so caught up in her anger over Peeta and Mr. Abernathy and really, just everyone at this point, that she almost forgot about the call sheet posting. Almost. As soon as Madge reminded her, asking if she wanted to walk over there with her and Gale, all those nerves resurfaced as they headed over to the band room. She kept discreetly wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, preparing herself to be disappointed, to expect someone like Glimmer to get it, but please, whoever was listening up there, please let her have made captain. If this crappy hellish day could give her just one thing, let it be that.

“I can’t look,” Katniss panicked when she saw the neon pink sign taped to the window connecting to the band office, halting in her steps. “If I didn’t make captain, I don’t know what I’ll do. Punch something?” 

Madge rolled her eyes and offered to check for her. “If Trinket didn’t make you captain, she clearly tripped in those heels and is suffering from some head trauma. Let’s see.” Her manicured finger scrolled down the long list of names until stopping on the Es. “Hm. Katniss, I don’t see your name on here at all.”

Her heart jolted. “What? That can’t be.” She wasn’t positive on being captain, but she was positive she’d at least make the  team  . Were the theatre and dance kids really that much better? She shoved Gale and Madge aside, looking for her name. Abrams...Banks...Carroll...Daly...Edwards...Evans...  Everdeen! And there was an asterisk next to her name! She was captain of next season’s color guard!

“You asshole!” she laughed, shoving Madge in the shoulder. “I’m captain!” She couldn’t help the large smile stretching across her face. She was captain! 

“You are!” Madge cheered, giving her a big tight hug. “Congratulations, Katniss! I’m so proud of you!” 

“Totally not surprised,” Gale said, messing up her hair in a brotherly fashion. She shoved his hand away and gave a playful glare. “And what about my favorite guard member?” he asked, looking down at Madge. “Did you make it, too?” 

Madge gave him a sweet smile and looked further down the list before pumping her fists in excitement. “I did! I made it! Take that Shelly Shoemon from 4th grade for saying I had the coordination skills of a cow!” 

“Totally not surprised,” Gale said again, laughing as he pulled his girlfriend in for a kiss. They locked lips for a while before Katniss cleared her throat and suggested they get a room if they wanted to continue. The couple smiled, Madge’s freckled cheeks tinted pink, but broke apart, their hands remaining clasped together. 

“Should we head over to Sae’s for burgers and ice cream to celebrate?” Gale suggested. “Thom just paid me for fixing his car, so I have the cash to spend.” Both girls happily agreed to his suggestion, excited to share the news with Sae, the diner’s owner and local grandmother to anyone under the age of 40. Good news didn’t feel real until sharing it with Sae. 

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket shouted from somewhere in her office, “is that you?” Her head popped out the doorway, startling the three. “Excellent, dear! I’ve been waiting to speak with you about something. Come in! Come in!” Her hand motioned for her to follow.

“Oh.” Katniss looked over at Gale and Madge, unsure what to say. “Am I in trouble?” 

Miss Trinket laughed. “No, not at all! I just need to discuss some color guard things with my new  captain.” She sang the last word, putting great emphasis on the middle consonants, and glared behind her at, presumably, Mr. Abernathy who probably said something rude in a remark.

“Sure, yeah,” Katniss said, feeling a bit dumb. Of course Miss Trinket wanted to jump right into the thick of things. The woman was the Energizer Bunny on crack when it came to choreography and scheduling. Of course she’d want to talk to her captain about the game plan and how she expected they execute it. “I’m free to talk.” Miss Trinket smiled and stepped back in her office. 

Katniss turned to Madge and Gale, wearing an apologetic smile . “I’ll meet you at Sae’s?” They nodded, not minding the wait, and wished her luck, telling her to text when she was leaving school.

*********

The first thing Katniss noticed amiss when stepping into the adjoined office was Peeta Mellark casually sitting there in front of Mr. Abernathy’s desk, flipping through a pile of sheet music. It wasn’t unusual for band students to volunteer time helping the surly man try to keep the band program organized, but it seemed a little late for a volunteer to still be in here. Abernathy and Trinket were a lot to take and only bearable in small, manageable doses. Most booked it the second the bell rang. 

She paused in the doorway, unsure if she misunderstood Miss Trinket. She meant for them to talk now, right? So what was Peeta doing here?

“Ah, Katniss,” Miss Trinket said, sifting through a stack of notes, not noticing her hesitation. “Take a seat, please.” She motioned to the wooden chair in front of her desk. 

Still unsure what was going on, Katniss gingerly sat down in the offered chair, her bag in her lap, and waited to see what exactly Miss Trinket wanted to talk about with Peeta still here. Guard stuff wasn’t technically private, but it’s not like it was riveting information either. Something didn’t feel right here.

Miss Trinket cleared her throat, catching Katniss’ attention from not looking at Peeta, and folded her hands on top of her desk with a bright, fluorescent smile. “Katniss, I want to be the first to congratulate you on a job well done. Your audition was truly inspiring. Honestly, I wish I could have taped it to show future guard members what true dedication looks like.” Katniss’ cheeks darkened at her director’s lavish compliments. 

“Thank you, Miss Trinket,” she said quietly, feeling a tad uncomfortable being told this in front of Peeta and Mr. Abernathy. “I tried my hardest.” 

“And it shows, dear. It truly shows.” The assistant director looked down at her notes, reading from one of the piles she was sifting through earlier, her long fingernails idly tapping the top metal surface in thought. “In fact,” she said, “I was so impressed with your audition, I’ve decided to make you a very prominent figure in this season’s show. The show’s leading star, as it were.” 

“I’m—um. What?” And then Miss Trinket proceeded to happily explain her vision for how their band was going to tell the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet, with the occasional grunts from Mr. Abernathy here and there. She explained how she envisioned the houses being represented by the color guard and drumline, feuding together on the field as the music from the band crescendos to the climatic finish.

“Next to you, Katniss,” Miss Trinket said, holding up what looked like a handwritten list of names, “I haven’t quite decided who will play who for color guard, but we have time to iron out these details, dear. What concerns me is how long it is taking Boggs to decide who made it for drumline.” Her eyes slitted at Abernathy. “It seems someone forgot to pass along the deadline I imposed so we could avoid this exact problem.” Mr. Abernathy just gave a noncommittal shrug and continued flipping through the scorebook he was looking at. Miss Trinket rubbed at the corner of her eyes and gave Katniss an exasperated look before continuing on. 

“It took some wheedling to get him to bend to my will, but I do believe many of our seasonal veterans are returning to drumline this year, Peeta being one of them.” She smiled warmly at the boy. For someone finding out good news, Peeta looked bored out of his mind sitting there, listening as Miss Trinket prattled on about visions and forbidden love and what this will mean for the band come competition season.

This all felt like a lot. Like a lot a lot.  

“So let me get this straight,” Katniss said slowly, trying to process it all and not throw up like her stomach wanted. “You want me to be Juliet? Like the Juliet who falls in love and dies at the end? That Juliet?”

If it was at all possible, Miss Trinket’s smile grew, making Katniss feel even sicker. “The very one, my dear! Oh, Katniss, I cannot tell you how  thrilled  I am to have you as our Juliet. I’ve had my guesses who you’d play for a while now, since I decided we should do  Romeo & Juliet a few months back, really.” Mr. Abernathy snorted at that but said nothing to contradict her. “But now, after seeing how much you’ve improved since last season? Truly inspiring! And with your tiny frame, I think we can finally bring air flips into the mix now!  Wouldn’t that look amazing under stadium lights?”

Katniss really felt like she was going to be sick now. “You want me to be a spotlight guard?” Her voice sounded a bit squeaky to her ears. “But that’s—I’ve never been a spotlight guard before! Especially not something to that kind of scale. They’re, like, really important. Like judges judging them important.” 

It was Peeta’s turn to laugh next to her, trying to cover it up with a cough when she turned to glare at him. Why was he here? 

Katniss took a deep breath in to try and quiet the loud ringing noise suddenly blaring in her ears. She was clearly not making a first good impression as captain, but this was so unexpected! Miss Trinket had never had her be a spotlight before. Ever. It was one thing being captain, but this, having her performance carry the entire story? Yeah, no thanks.  

“Are you sure you want it to be me?” she asked, her voice a lot calmer than she felt. “I was thinking you’d want someone like Madge—or Glimmer—for something this important. You’re always saying how swan-like Glimmer is on the field. Don’t you want Juliet to look like a swan?” 

“Told you she wouldn’t be for it,” Peeta muttered next to her, a knowing smile on his face as he shook his head in amusement. Oh, he just thought he knew everything about her, didn’t he? Like he was some Katniss Everdeen expert.

“Why are you even here?” she finally asked him. “This clearly has nothing to do with you. Can’t you file music somewhere else?” 

“Isn’t it a bit obvious why I’m here, Katniss?” he asked her incredulously, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “I thought you were more observant than this.”

Before she could reply, Miss Trinket held her hands up. “Enough! Peeta, I’ll kindly ask you to please sit there quietly, as we discussed.” Discussed? When did they have time to discuss this? Then she remembered earlier. Miss Trinket needing to speak with Peeta, breaking up their argument. They were discussing her? Why did Peeta have to know that Miss Trinket wanted her as Juliet. She was clearly missing something obvious, like Peeta said, but her mind was shot. Barely able to process anything anymore as her anxiety kicked into gear. 

“And, Katniss.” She looked up at the sound of her name. “Please keep an open mind about this. I understand to some, being a lead is scary, but trust me when I say, I have my absolute faith in you. 

“Madge and Glimmer are talented girls, yes,” Miss Trinket explained, “but I’m afraid they are too tall for what I have in mind for choreography. You know how important these things can be. We need someone petite like you, Katniss. Someone Peeta can easily pick up and twirl without fear of dropping.” She motioned a manicured hand at Peeta, his face staring at her expectantly. 

But Katniss’ brain was still running in circles. “Peeta’s not on guard. Why would he be picking me up?” 

Miss Trinket’s patient smile looked strained now. “As I already told you,” she said slowly, surely believing Katniss dense now, “Guard and drumline will be representing the two houses. Guard will be Capulet and drumline Montague. Peeta’s on drumline, so naturally he’d be our star Montague.” 

Her mind finally caught up to what everyone was suggesting. “Wait,” she said, sitting at the edge of her seat now. “If I’m Juliet and you’re saying he’s the star…” Her focus drifted to Peeta, who gave an amused, cocky wave, surely enjoying the multitude of emotions crossing her face in this moment. Her stomach dropped, this news hitting her harder than the spotlight one. “You’re Romeo?” 

Instead of just answering with a simple yes/no like a normal person, or even some Ding! Ding! Ding!  joke, Peeta lowered himself to the floor and responded in all his annoyingly obnoxious flair:  “‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.’” He closed his eyes on the last word and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle kiss, his lips soft and warm against her now clammy skin. She swatted her hand away, tucking it around her bag for protection. 

No. No, no, no. No! 

This had to be a mistake. Her and Peeta Mellark? As Romeo and Juliet? 

That was what Miss Trinket wanted to talk to him about, she realized. It wasn’t about her at all. She wanted to talk to him about being Romeo for the field show. 

“I don’t understand,” Katniss said at last, when her stomach had finally recovered itself. “How can  Peeta be Romeo when he’s going to be busy marching around with a snare drum? What about Finnick? He’s tall. Taller than Peeta, for sure. I’m sure he could just as easily lift me.” 

Was she seriously that desperate to prefer the preening peacock Finnick Odair? 

Yes, yes she was. 

“Finnick will most likely play our Tybalt,” Miss Trinket remarked. “And as he is on guard, he will play a Capulet role.” 

“What about gender bending the role?” Katniss suggested. “Who says Juliet has to be a girl? We are in the 21st century. And didn’t Shakespeare have men play the female roles, anyway? Let Finnick play Juliet to Peeta’s Romeo. He’d be perfect in the role.” 

“Should I feel insulted that you don’t want to be my partner, Katniss?” Peeta innocently asked, enjoying this way too much. Her fists gripped her bag hard, her eyes deadly slits. People often told her how intimidating she looked, but Peeta didn’t even bat an eye. He was all smiles and dimples. If only looks could kill...

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket said curtly, snapping her attention back on the director, “I chose you as my next in command because I trust in your talent and know you are a driven young woman who people look up to. Now we both want the pleasure of seeing this band win first place at PSU, don’t we?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“And we will do what is necessary to move this band toward that goal, correct?” 

“Of course, but—” 

“But nothing, Everdeen,” Mr. Abernathy interjected at last, kicking his feet off the tall pile of sheet music laying by his desk. “You want to win?” He shook his hand at her, not needing a response. “Stupid question. Of course you do. I can see it all over your face. You’re too competitive to hide it. Well, to win you have to please the judges. Plain and simple. Judges like this kind of flair nonsense. So play our star-crossed lovers—” 

“We’re not star-crossed lovers!” Katniss grit out, a bit harder than she intended, unable to look at Peeta as she said it. Not like it mattered. She could practically feel his amusement radiating off his person. “This won’t work, Mr. Abernathy. Don’t you want people who’ll get along? Peeta and I hate each other. We have for a really long time.” 

“Who cares?” Mr. Abernathy asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his longish black hair falling in his face from the motion. “Pretend. Act like your lovesick classmates. I don’t care. It’s all a big show, anyway, and if pairing you two up wins us enough brownie points to win and shuts Trinket up for a year, then that’s what we’re going to do. Mellark’s already agreed to it and he’s never danced a day in his life. So now it’s your turn to be a good girl and agree to the plan, Everdeen. Got it?” 

“Got it,” she muttered, slouching low in her chair. Of all the things she expected to hear today, pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark was not one of them. This was definitely going to blow up in everyone’s faces, she was sure of it. Putting on a performance smile for judges was one thing, but acting like she was in love with Peeta was another. And then hoping he wouldn’t drop her when doing those stupid flips Miss Trinket mentioned? She was going to be in a body cast by the end of the season.

Peeta seemed to have dropped the amusement act at last, mirroring her sour mood as the two directors discussed extra one-on-one rehearsal time with Miss Trinket to better prepare Peeta since he had zero dance experience. Katniss tried to pay attention, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing over at Peeta, wondering what he could possibly be thinking during all this. His jaw was clenched, she could tell, but he wasn’t looking at her or Trinket or even Abernathy. He was focusing on picking at a hole in his jeans, his eyebrows scrunched together. She understood the conflict—was feeling it herself—but he didn’t look mad. Just...troubled. Like something was said that he was having a hard time with.

Where to begin? Katniss thought bitterly, still unable to believe they were actually being forced to play Romeo and Juliet, like they were in some teenage drama or something.

“I know we have lots to work on, but just seeing the two of you together like this,” Miss Trinket said, motioning between them, “tells me I made the right decision. Look how adorable you two look! Pearls on a necklace! Didn’t I say that’s what they reminded me of, Haymitch?” She turned to Abernathy, who was now busy digging dirt from under his nails with his baton. Miss Trinket frowned before catching herself. “I did, I did! I said that earlier when I found you talking in the back.” She winked and oh god. Could they just go already?

********

It took another fifteen minutes of talking and goodbyes that were very much not goodbyes before they were truly free from the office. Katniss bolted out the side door as quickly as she could, cursing under her breath at how long she’d been in there. That took almost an hour! Madge and Gale were probably wondering what was taking so long. Or maybe not. It was Trinket, after all. 

The parking lot was nearly empty now as she crossed it, digging around for her battered up phone to text. Hopefully they were still up for burgers because after that talk...yeah. She needed the greasiest burger available. Wait until she tells her friends she’s playing Juliet and that Peeta Mellark was her Romeo. They might not believe her, thinking it a practical joke and asking what Trinket really wanted. That’s how absurd this whole situation sounded. 

“Katniss!” she heard her name called out. “Hey, wait up!” She turned and saw Peeta waving her down, his long legs quickly catching up to her. Part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and keep moving, her car just across the street from where she stood. It’d be a safer bet, too, moving along, because nothing good was ever said when she was upset. This afternoon being a prime example. But for some reason, she was curious what Peeta had to say about all this. She stopped at the street corner and pretended to check for traffic despite the road being empty of any moving vehicle. 

“Damn,” he laughed, a bit breathless as he caught up next to her. “I forgot how fast your fight or flight response is.” 

“I’m not fleeing,” she frowned, checking the street for real this time before crossing. She dug around the front pocket of her book bag, pulling out both her keys and phone. “School’s done and I’m going to Sae’s with Gale and Madge. You know, my friends.”

“I know who Gale and Madge are.” 

“Just checking,” she stated cooly, flipping her braid over her shoulder, “since you practically accused me of having none earlier.” 

He winced. “Yeah, not the finest thing I’ve ever said. I’m sorry about that.” 

She shrugged. “It’s fine, Peeta.” It wasn’t, but if she kept telling herself that, maybe she’ll believe it. “We can’t all be Mr. Popular like you.” 

“Right.” He looked back at the student parking lot where he parked. Unlike her family, his could afford the $350 the school charged for a parking space. “Listen, about what you said in there. About us hating each other.” Katniss raised an eyebrow, curious where this would lead. “I don’t...hate you.” 

Well that was...unexpected. Was that why he looked so troubled in the meeting? Because she said they hated each other? She took a step back from him, realizing he was closer than she felt comfortable with, and waited for the rest of it. It didn’t sound like he was finished, like there was a big but hanging at the end of his sentence. What else did he want to say?  But I still don’t really like you?  But I think you’re annoying and working with you is going to suck? But I think you’re a bitch? Honestly, the list could go on about all the negative things Peeta could say about her, but he said nothing. He just looked down at his shoes and kicked at some loose pebbles in the street. 

“Oh,” she said, unsure what else there was to say. “I guess that will make rehearsal easier.” 

He nodded, a bit too jerky to look natural. “Yeah. I just—it’s important to me that you know that I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. Mad beyond belief? Yeah. Lots of times, actually. But never hate. I could never hate you, Katniss.”

“Oh,” she said again, dumbfounded. “Well, thanks, Peeta. I guess. That’s... Good to know.” And just because her sour mood couldn’t help itself, “I’ll be able to sleep happy tonight knowing you don’t hate me.” She made a face, instantly regretting her words, and yanked open her car door, needing to just leave. “Listen, I gotta go. Gale and Madge are already waiting for me and Trinket took forever rambling about how we’re pearl necklaces. They’re waiting for me.” 

He didn’t say anything as she got in the car, the loud, embarrassing screech of her engine once on making any type of conversation near impossible to hold. He stepped away and gave a halfhearted wave, all bravado gone now, as she pulled away from the curb. By the time she thought to wave back, it was too late and her car was halfway down the street. 

God, she really was a heartless bitch.

*******

It was only hours later—after returning home from drowning her frustrations in the thickest chocolate shake Sae could make and celebrating her good news with her mom and sister over pizza—did she allow herself to think about Peeta Mellark. 

On a whim, she pulled the framed photo she kept of her and her dad off her nightstand and held it, her grip tightening as she studied the ridiculous faces they’re making at the camera. It was one of the last pictures they took together before his passing. She can’t remember what prompted them to make the faces, but she wished she could go back and make them again with him. To be with her dad for just one more day. One more hour, even. She’d do anything for that. 

Katniss closed her eyes and hugged the frame close to her chest for a moment, trying to stop any tears from slipping past her tight emotional control. She was safe to cry in her room, but wanted to wait until she was in bed with the lights turned off before crying over this emotionally draining day. 

When it felt like she had her emotions under control, Katniss used her longest fingernail to lift the tabs on the back of the frame and carefully took the picture out, unfolding the right-half of it to reveal a young curly-haired Peeta smiling up at her, her dad’s arm thrown over his shoulders. 

She stared at the full photo for the longest time, remembering how mad she was at him for taking this one simple thing from her. She never minded Peeta being in her family photos before. She sometimes pulled him in for ones when her dad or mom shouted, “Picture time! Show us your pearly whites!” But that was when she still thought they’d have more time. Why wouldn’t there be more time? Dads weren’t supposed to die until you were old and had kids of your own. That’s how it was  supposed to be. They weren’t supposed to die when you’re eleven and barely old enough to understand the cruelty of the world. The unfairness of it all. 

Katniss barely remembered a time when it was just her and her dad. Alone. No Peeta. No Prim. Just Dad and her. 

She didn’t even have a good photo of just the two of them.

Just boxes upon boxes of photos of him, her, and Peeta. 

The magical trio.

The full photo didn’t bring up any past resentment this time, though. Instead, it reminded her how much fun the three of them used to have, bumming around town while Aunt Lulu watched Prim at her shop, singing along to the radio and playing Punch Buggy. Her dad always made it a point to include Peeta on any outing they made, even if it involved going to the grocery store. How disappointed Dad would be seeing us now, she thought, tracing over his face with her thumb. Her and Peeta not friends anymore.

But Peeta Mellark doesn’t hate her. Katniss didn’t understand why hearing that felt like a weight had lifted off her, but she felt lighter now, the more she thought about it. Like it was easier to breathe again.

“Peeta Mellark doesn’t hate me,” she whispered to the photo, the words tasting sweet on her tongue. A small smile pulled at her lips and she said it again. “He doesn’t hate me, Dad.” 

Katniss didn’t understand why Peeta thought it was important she knew he didn’t hate her, but it was all her mind kept thinking of, and she was glad to hear it. 

He didn’t hate her. He never had.

[saltpepperbeard]

Open Up ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Hello hello! Does this still count as an Everlark one shot with a particular character of a particular kind thrown into the mix? I’d hope so lol! But hey there; quite the unexpected twist from me, yes? Considering how much I absolutely ROAST the guy who shows up in this story.

I wanted to do it as a fun little exercise however! Oddly enough, I think it was burning his trading card at Toastcon that gave me the extra motivation to go through with this fjkdskds. CATHARTIC, PERHAPS? I have had a headcanon for quite some time though, one where Gale matures enough to actually come back to Twelve to face Katniss and consequently Peeta as well. I decided to play with that idea, and it was definitely fun/challenging figuring out how everyone would react, Katniss especially.

Now, I know this may be a little less than ideal content for some shippers lol! If you’re anything like me, his name alone is enough to send you into a “HMMNOTHANK” most of the time. But I’d definitely appreciate some open-mindedness for this one! Katniss may not throw up Gale, no, but she definitely has some OPINIONS.

So without further adoooooo...

Open Up

I feel relaxed for the first time in weeks. Curled up into the couch, my hands laced over my stomach, my unborn baby stirring softly within...

The scent of Peeta’s baking cheesebuns a comforting perfume in the air, the rain gently tapping against the glass of the window, the warmth of the fire blanketing both body and soul...

It’s nice. And very much needed. Getting this deep into my pregnancy has caused a whirlwind of emotion. Terrors have been frequenting my dreams more often than not. Panic has overtaken me more than relief has. Uncertainty has danced through my system in contrast to the usual steadiness.

I don’t know; something’s different about today. It feels like everything has fallen into place, everything’s where it should be. All my favorite things have lined up to swaddle me in comfort, swaddle me in relief. Seems like not too many things could threaten such a wonderful, easygoing morning.

“Love?”

The familiar, handsome voice calling from the kitchen breaks me from my thoughts, but not from my eased state, in fact adding to it. A warm smile stretches my cheeks as I reply back.

“Hmm?”

“Doing alright in there?”

I can hear him still working as he talks, pounding dough and bustling around the kitchen. I bite my lip, smiling more as I picture his concentration.

“I guess.”

Now, he halts, giving a firm slap to the dough before pausing.

“You guess?”

I shake my head softly; so protective as always. He’s got even more so with my pregnancy. Even the slightest bit of upset or discomfort on my part will get him leaping to action. If it were anyone else, it would almost be annoying. But with him, with my husband...it’s strangely endearing.

I worry my lip more, puffing with mirth. Shouldn’t worry him, I guess, so my response turns to teasing.

“Just missing someone. He’s wrapped up in his work though, so maybe I shouldn’t bother him.”

I can practically hear the tension in the kitchen break, Peeta sighing before falling victim to laughter.

“Oh,” he snickers, and continues on with baking, “Well, yeah, he is pretty busy making cheesebuns for his two favorite people. Not that he would mind the company, but such a distraction might put said cheesebuns on hold.”

“That might be a risk I’m willing to take,” I murmur back.

I know my husband’s grinning tremendously, the warmth from his smile outdoing the heat from the fire in the hearth.

“Really?” he chuckles, “You’d cast aside cheesebuns for this person? Are we talking about the same Katniss here?”

Now I’m laughing as well, shaking my head once more before heaving my rotund form off my perch, readying myself to saunter towards the kitchen.

“Guess I love him a bit more than his baking. Only a bit though.”

Again, Peeta laughs, a joyous, wonderful sound that brings me to the same level.

“Hmm, sounds about right,” he snorts, “Well, if not a cheesebun, he definitely has a kiss with your name on it.”

My heart flips, absentmindedly licking my lips as I picture his offer. Despite the aches and pains coursing through my body from being late into term, I begin to waddle my way towards the lovely enticements in the kitchen.

“He sounds cheesier than what he’s making,” I say, a blush dusting across my cheeks as I add, “Guess that’s why I love him more.”

“I’m going to cut this third person thing we have going only to say that I love you too.”

I blush even harder, and am just a few waddles away from entering the kitchen, a few waddles away from collapsing into my husband’s embrace, when my jinxing words decide to catch up with me.

Because the morning does indeed shift. Not with anything bad, per say, but with something very unexpected; a series of knocks sounds from our front door.

The warmth surging through me is quick to shift to the opposite, every part of me freezing. I try not to grow anxious, but it’s difficult not to. Though mysterious visitors are often just Haymitch, or Sae, or even Hazelle, some deep recess of my mind always worries about it being someone from the Capitol.

Especially now, with a pure little unscathed life growing deep within me.

What if they’re here to take Peeta and I back on some twisted Victors’ Tour. What if they’re here to reap us into a new set of Games. What if they’re here to take my child, our child, away, leading it to death before I could even ease it into life...

I hadn’t even realized I had been shivering with quick breaths until Peeta’s voice sounds to ground me.

“Katniss?” he asks, his tone a strong whisper, “Who-”

The knocks persist, cutting us both off. My anxiety hikes up, my arms subconsciously wrapping around my stomach. I take steps away from the outside world, visions rolling dark throughout my head.

“I...I can’t...” I wheeze, silently begging my husband for help. He understands almost immediately, our closeness seemingly connecting our minds.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, though I think I can hear a hint of concern, “It’s alright, Katniss. Let me just clean my hands off and then I’ll answ-”

Once more, we’re cut off. This time though, not from knocks. This time, it’s from my name, my name being uttered from someone different than Peeta.

“Katniss?”

I didn’t think it was possible to freeze more. But I do, every ounce of me locking up at the voice on the other side of the wood. It sounds incredibly strange, but all too familiar. Absolutely awful, but oddly wonderful all the same. 

Following along with the contrasts, my body remains rigidly still, all except for my arm, which slowly and cautiously reaches for the door’s handle. I don’t know what or who I’m expecting to see. I don’t know what to expect. But when I hear a soft, “I know you’re in there,” I’m able to summon enough strength to breech the final barrier between myself and the “stranger.”

Although it’s definitely not a stranger. And it’s not Sae, or Haymitch, or anyone from the Capitol. And I’m not sure if it’s way better than seeing a Peacekeeper at our door, or far worse.

Talk about locking up; I go utterly cold. My eyes turn wild, my mouth hangs agape, my grip on the door runs iron. And once more, my body and mind go to war, leaving me awkwardly hanging in the middle, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to react.

Part of me wants to start sobbing, crying at the notion of something returning from the dead. Part of me wants to slam the door, to forget I ever saw the person standing before me. Part of me wants to scream until my voice runs raw, shrieking my pain from the past few years.

Instead, I’m left doing absolutely nothing, simply staring in complete shock. 

The inner battle within me continues, and a reaction birthed from pure instinct presents itself. Vile things form on the tip of my tongue, anger being the first to pull ahead in my internal fight. But, just as fast, my heart is quick to douse the flames, preventing anything from being said.

It’s quite the brawl, between body and spirit. Before a side can come out on top though, before I can truly react, truly process, I hear shuffling behind me. Then, comes the voice the eases my soul, but unfortunately leaves me more aware of reality.

“Katniss? Who’s at the...”

Much be pretty extraordinary if Peeta finds himself speechless too.

We all remain in a tense, uncomfortable silence for a beat. But of course, my husband is the one to cut through. Amicable and wonderful as always, even in a situation like this. So I’m not surprised at all to feel him slide up behind me, his presence warm and welcoming.

And with a composure I wish I had, I watch as he extends a hand in greeting to the man before us, followed by the name I’ve tried not to think about in years.

“Gale...” Peeta murmurs, “It’s...a surprise to see you back in Twelve!”

Gale.

I’m not sure whether I want to vomit, smile, or dart back into the house.

But with my husband behind me, and the initial shock wearing off, I settle on actually looking at him, actually taking him in.

He looks so incredibly similar to how he did when we parted. I’m not sure how that’s even possible; it’s been years. I guess the only difference would be that he looks fitter, more composed. Like the kind of person who should be working in District Two.

But I can still see the familiarity in his grey eyes, the concentration in his gaze that I saw so often when we were hunting. Now, instead of using it to figure out snares and traps, I watch as it washes over my form. My very vulnerable, very pregnant form. It seems to settle on my stomach, his brow furrowing just enough to rouse a reaction from me.

I suddenly feel incredibly self-conscious, judged, and uncomfortable. I can’t imagine he’s not sneering at the fact that I’m pregnant with another man’s child, scowling in jealousy like he did not too long ago.

Bile rises in my throat, and I cast my gaze downwards, shutting myself out from the situation. The only thing I choose to focus on is my husband, inhaling his therapeutic cinnamon and dill scent, relishing in the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

The small ounce of my conscious paying attention braces for the usual snarky comment from Gale. But strangely enough, he simply returns my husband’s greeting, shaking Peeta’s hand back.

“Peeta. Yeah it’s...definitely been a while.”

His voice even sounds similar. Strong, authoritative, steady. It takes me back to the better times between us, but of course, it also takes me back to the terrible. I feel my throat tighten further, and I still find myself unable to look at him. Instead, I lean back to seek the same comfort I’ve been receiving all these years, my own true solace.

Peeta’s quick to deliver, slipping his hand around my hip when he retracts it from Gale’s, holding me close. I can’t tell if his arm around me is a protective or a possessive gesture. Either way, it does its intended purpose, soothing me and ironing out the high peaks of anxiety.

“How have you been doing?” Peeta asks, thankfully keeping the awkward silences somewhat at bay.

“Ahh, pretty good. Keeping busy in Two.”

The mention of Gale’s job, his life, causes me to shiver slightly. Though Peeta tightens his grip around me, every ounce of his warmth pouring into my veins, my nerves continue to wave. I want nothing more than to bury my face in Peeta’s chest, to hide myself away from all of this. Even though it’s not much, simply catching up and exchanging pleasantries, it’s...more than overwhelming. I wasn’t ready for this. I want to go back to the regular, gentle day we were having, go back to focusing on my life and the life I’m preparing to welcome.

But, Gale being stubborn and Peeta being more than polite, neither give me that option, continuing to converse.

“...Take it things are going well for the two of you?”

Even after all these years, I think I can recognize that tone. Seemingly well intended, but laced with jealousy and negativity. Does nothing but make my urge to flee stronger, my trembles more intense.

Peeta begins to softly caress my hip, my lower back, rubbing tender circles as he carries on with the conversation.

“Yeah. We’re slowly starting to rebuild. Opened the bakery back up, and the forest continues to provide. Life’s been...getting back to normal really.”

My husband definitely doesn’t disappoint; even if Gale had been making some kind of stab at our relationship, at my pregnancy, Peeta stepped entirely around it. It makes me relax a tad, leaning even further into his touch.

“That’s good to hear. You seem like you’re doing much better,” Gale says.

My relaxation is short lived, tensing back up at Gale’s words. That’s...strange for him to say. Years ago he didn’t want Peeta to get better; him being well was too much competition. And now he’s commenting on my husband’s well being?

“I am, thank you,” Peeta murmurs, before looking down in my direction, “It’s been rocky at times but...We’ve really helped each other through a lot.”

“I can tell.”

Gale pauses for a moment, before taking a breath and continuing in a softer voice, “I’m...glad you two have each other.”

Now there’s a silence that even Peeta can’t mend, the both of us stunned at such a different character. I raise my head slightly, though still not looking Gale in the eyes, confusion surging in to mix with the nerves. Almost as if on cue, Gale inhales before breaking through.

“Guess you’re wondering why I’m at your front door?”

It’s like Peeta suddenly becomes fully aware of his surroundings; I guess Gale showing up was enough to shock him into greying out as well. He tenses slightly, looking down at me, back to Gale, and then down at me again, his mouth flopping a few times. I hear him swallow hard, before he releases with a sigh, almost like he was fighting something as well.

“Oh, sorry; would you like to come in out of the rain?”

“Yeah, thanks. Not quite used to this weather anymore.”

The two share a good-natured chuckle, keeping the atmosphere cordial. But, cordial as it may be, and as friendly as my husband is, it doesn’t stop my vision from nearly blacking out. There’s something about inviting Gale into our household that almost makes the contents of my stomach reappear onto our porch. Maybe because inviting him in almost feels like letting him back into my life, neither of which I’m ready for at all.

I can barely handle my pregnancy, can barely handle my past nightmares. How the hell am I expected to handle an individual who carries such immense weight with him, who’s left such a hefty scar across my body?

My form signals to me that I’ve had enough, and before either of them can say anything more, I tear myself away. I move the fastest I have in weeks, practically ignoring the added weight in my abdomen as I glide across the cold floor. I’m quick to find a bathroom, and I barely have time to sink in front of the toilet before the retching begins.

I cough harshly, tears streaming down my face as I fiercely grip the porcelain. Nothing comes up, but my body continues to react, heaving all the while. A scream builds up in my throat, but it comes out as a gag, dampened by all my rampant emotions.

There I remain until both physical and mental exhaustion kick in, my entire form slumping downwards. I wheeze, breathing heavily as I claw my way across the floor, easing myself to the bathroom door. I prop myself against it, leaning on it as I rake my hands across my face, tears still a plenty.

I expect to be reduced to sobs, or screams, but I find that I’m numb instead. I’m motionless, remaining against the doorway, now impervious to the conversation on the other end. I have no choice but to listen in, to be subjected to whatever is so important.

I wait for Gale to drop some big news, some kind of something from the likes of District Two. But instead, the conversation between he and Peeta continues to sound entirely casual.

“Did you want anything to drink? Or eat?” I hear Peeta ask.

“No, I’m good, but thanks,” Gale replies.

I hear them pass through the house, the two of them heading to either the living room or the kitchen. They probably think they’re out of ear shot, or that I’m not listening. They’d be wrong; I’m entirely attuned.

There’s another awkward beat, one silent enough for me to hear my heart pounding in my ears. This time, Gale’s surprisingly the one to break it, with something rather unexpected.

“...So when’s the baby coming?”

I feel my fists tighten on their own accord, an ember of anger alighting within me. It may have been a perfectly innocent question once again, but it reeks of envy and bitterness.

Thankfully, my husband’s warmth combats the negative fire; I can almost feel the heat of his smile as he gingerly answers.

“In a few weeks, we think. That’s what the doctor keeps telling us anyway.”

“You excited?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Peeta chuckles softly, “I’ve wanted to be a Dad for...a while.”

Picturing the look on my husband’s face and hearing his current contentment soothes me, my form easing a bit against the door. But because fire is here to combat my own, Gale speaking gets me tensing right back up again.

“And Katniss?”

I clench my jaw, my hands lacing protectively across my stomach. I’m half-tempted to burst out, to hiss at him to leave and stop questioning my growing family. But I still find myself locked up, Peeta tenderly speaking for me.

“She’s alright,” he murmurs after a breath, “She’s been scared of course.”

I tense further, wishing I had a knife to throw if Gale dares to make some kind of snide comment towards my husband, something about him not helping me properly or me not being ready. Once again, he surprises me, simply remaining silent and allowing Peeta to continue.

“But...I think she’s excited too. She already talks to the baby a lot, and I’ll catch her singing lullabies on the occasion.”

I hear Peeta chuckle gently, before he adds, “She’s going to be a wonderful mother.”

It’s astounding how well and how quickly Peeta can bring me back down, tension sapping from a body with a ghost of a smile to match. I blow out a soft breath, tenderly starting to rub my stomach, only to freeze when another voice interjects.

“...Yeah. She will,” Gale agrees.

That sort of melancholy-laced tone takes me back to when I was so confused, to when I didn’t know what to do with myself or how I was feeling. I expect it to trigger those same awful feelings of guilt, my throat tightening in preparation.

I’m pleased when nothing of the sort arises.

Because no, there’s absolutely no questioning it now. The baby growing within me is Peeta’s. And the heart pounding in my chest belongs to him as well. It’s something that Gale has absolutely no place in wiggling himself into now. It never was. So why the hell is he-

“Guess you’re wondering why I showed up here?”

I inhale sharply; guess he’s answering my question is more like it.

“Kind of,” Peeta admits.

“I came to Twelve for inspections. Decided to come here, kind of at the last minute. Partly because...”

He pauses with an exhale, and I’m barely breathing myself as he continues.

“Peeta, I wanted to apologize. And to thank you.”

It’s like everything in Twelve comes screeching to a halt. Nothing’s audible except for the rain just barely pittering outside, and my breaths puffing out in perplexed bursts. I sit up a bit, needing to shake my head and inwardly ask myself if that was real. Very out of character from what I’m used to, from what I’d expect from him.

Peeta must be on the same wavelength, his question just as soft as the raindrops on the window.

“...Pardon?”

I hear Gale take another breath, his voice taking an oddly soft tone as well.

“You’ve really taken care of each other. I can see that in the short time I’ve been here. But the way you’ve cared for Katniss...I never could’ve...”

He trails off, swallowing the old longing. I can feel myself scowling at the thought of his old self punching through whatever thing he has going now. Peeta must be making some kind of furrowed expression too, because Gale is quick to keep explaining.

“She was my best friend. And I cared about her a lot. Still do.”

I think I can feel my heart twang within my chest. Before I can think about that too much though, the flickering fire of annoyance within comes to the rescue.

“But I was just too wrapped up in myself,” Gale says, sighing, “Too wrapped up in the war. I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention to her as much as I should’ve. I didn’t realize what she wanted, didn’t know what she needed.”

He takes another deep breath.

“Obviously it was you. And I shouldn’t have fought against that as hard as I did.”

I can’t help but nod slightly against the door. Despite my distrust for him though, and the situation, I find myself continuing to listen intently.

“After the rebellion I was worried she’d never heal but...Here she is with you, alive, happy...pregnant...”

Almost as if on cue, the baby stirs softly, and I go back to rubbing my stomach. I can feel the tension levels easing down, only slightly, but still.

“Thank you for giving her this life. For being there for her. Trying to wedge myself between that was...inexcusable. I’m sorry.”

I’m surprised to feel my breath catch, and I lean my head back, looking towards the ceiling as I contemplate things, as I process. Where did this all come from? I never would have expected anything of the sort from him. The last time we saw each other, I was perfectly content on never seeing him ever again. And now he’s here, in my house, apologizing to my husband?

I shake my head again, scowling. Damn Gale. I guess I wasn’t safe from the confusion he inflicts after all.

Admittedly though, this...is far more welcomed. He’s perplexing, but not in the way I was so accustomed to years ago. 

I am still annoyed with him though, for making me attempt to figure it out.

There’s another pause, less awkward this time. Peeta must be trying to process things too. I hear him heave a gentle sigh, before he speaks up again.

“You loved her. You didn’t know what to do. We both didn’t.”

It’s the first time throughout this exchange that my husband’s words have made my throat tighten. I find myself worrying my bottom lip, knowing it’s the truth but hating to hear it.

Following the pattern of oddity, Gale gives a sort snort.

 “No, if I really loved her I wouldn’t have acted how I did. To either of you.”

The sigh that departs from deep within my lungs syncs up perfectly with Peeta’s.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs, “It’s in the past now.”

“...You can’t speak for Katniss though.”

“No,” Peeta agrees, “I can’t.”

And he’s right. He can’t. Peeta understands me like no one else does, but I don’t even think he can figure out the complexity of what all I’m feeling right now. For the record, I don’t think I can either.

I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. Things have already been so crazy lately. I didn’t need more wounds from my past to reopen.

And I don’t want to forgive him.

But I feel...eased. I feel slightly lifted. It’s equivalent to putting a bandaid on a scar, sure. Doesn’t erase the fact that the scar is still there. But...it still feels oddly better than having the scar ugly and untreated.

Before I can get too wrapped up in my thoughts, Peeta’s gentle and sincere voice breaks through.

“...Thank you though, Gale. I appreciate the apology.”

Some kind of movement is audible, and I imagine the two are shaking hands again. If anything, I guess I’m glad that Gale and Peeta are on better terms.

But where does that leave me.

It’s like they read my mind, my energy, directing their conversation my way after another pause.

“Should...we check on her?” Gale asks.

Peeta replies with a long breath, before audibly answering.

“I think...she just needs some time. This was all very sudden. Guess anything else will have to happen on her terms.”

I love you, Peeta.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling Gale’s tension before he relents.

“Right. Sorry for showing up with no notice.”

“It’s alright,” Peeta murmurs, letting out a huff of mirth, “Definitely took us by surprise though.”

They both share a strained, quiet laugh, before things go quiet. There’s the awkwardness again, like neither of them are sure where to proceed. They both know they can’t force me out. So after a few more pauses, Gale backs off with a sigh.

“Alright. Well, good seeing you, Peeta,” he says, “Take care of yourself.”

“You too. Safe travels.”

More pauses, before I hear a pair of departing footsteps, followed by another. I recognize the heavier tread of my husband, sounding like it’s slowly departing off towards the kitchen again. Gale sounds closer, likely heading for the front door.

And that’s when I feel completely strange. That’s when all the swirling emotions take hold. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know is about to take place. But I find myself standing up and bursting through the door, tearing back through the house.

I round a corner, and freeze at the sight of him. His back is turned to me as he collects his things, but he raises his head and stills at my approach. I thought I had been silent on my feet, but I guess my pregnancy makes my footsteps a bit harder. That, or his hunting background must still be evident despite years in District Two.

Either way, I inwardly curse, and consider darting away before he can say anything.

I find that I’m still locked into place though. And he beats me to it anyway.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

Him talking to Peeta was easy to stomach. But for some reason, him talking to me after so long instantly makes me defensive, a scowl hardening my features with building nasty words to match.

“I wouldn’t forgive me either,” he continues, still turned away from me, “But I have to apologize to you anyway.”

I feel myself trembling, close to bolting or yelling, I’m not sure which. Again, he doesn’t give the luxury of deciding. He instead turns to face me, our grey eyes connecting in a strange hold. It’s very quick to make me feel nauseous, the whole thing a bit much to handle. I don’t know why I chased him in the first place.

I want Peeta. I want to go back into hiding. I want...

“Katniss...” he says, his voice saddened and just barely above a whisper.

My nostrils flare, numerous responses attempting to surface but failing. He takes it as a cue to go on.

“Will you at least listen to what I have to say?”

My body tenses up, like a cat arching its spine. I don’t say yes, but I don’t say no either. That leaves us in a strange limbo for a bit, with Gale being the one to venture out of it.

“I was bent out of shape. I was too caught up in my own interests. So caught up that I forgot how to treat you as my best friend. Hardly anything else mattered.”

I’m heaving shaky breaths, feeling a glassy, angry sheen form at the bottom of my eyes.

“It wasn’t right of me at all. It won me the battle I was fighting but at what cost.”

I watch as he swallows hard, his expression dropping further.

“Katniss, I’m so sorry about...”

He chokes on his apology, unable to finish. I know what he’s referring to though. The thought is enough to break the glass, a single, hot tear rolling down my cheek. I want so badly to swipe it away, but I’m completely motionless.

At this, he seems to droop, pain clearly reading across his face.

“I’m sorry...”

I close my eyes, trying not to think too hard about anything. I attempt to shut it out, reverting to hardness as I always have.

“We’ve been here before, Gale,” I say, my tone cold but catching slightly at the utterance of his name.

“I know. And nothing I can say will fix it.”

“No.” 

He heaves a shaky breath himself, and switches course away from that awful topic.

“So, I guess I’ll just say that...I’m so happy for you.”

This is enough to bring my eyes back into view, and I’m stunned to see him wearing a sad smile.

“I never would have been able to say this years ago. But really, I’m happy you’re here, with Peeta. He...really cares about you. And it’s good to see that you’re happy too. That you love him.”

I blink slowly, instinctively resting my hands atop my stomach at the talk of my husband, the talk of love.

“That’s all I could have wanted. You to be happy and safe. And he’s done that for you. All that and more. I’m glad, Katniss. I really am.”

I don’t want to believe him. I don’t want to believe any of this. But his expression, his voice...It all seems so oddly genuine. I mean, why would he show up here to say all of this if he didn’t really mean it?

My breath catches, and I blow it out slowly, beginning to shift my hands across the strained fabric of my shirt, comforting myself. I nearly stop when I see Gale’s gaze momentarily flit down to my stomach, but it’s too quick of a glance.

“Seeing you...like this...I know everything’s just right for you. And that he was right all along.”

“It is. He is.”

I of course expect him to sulk, but he simply nods, continuing to gently smile.

“I think I can breathe easier now, that’s for sure.”

I fall slightly agape, unable to hide the perplexity swirling around my subconscious.

“Why...do you...”

“Care?” he finishes for me.

When I give a slight nod, he continues, “Spending time away from home made me reflect I guess. It’s weird being there without really knowing anyone. It’s weird not being able to hunt.”

It’s his turn to look away, his eyes flitting down for a moment before reconnecting with mine.

“...I’ve missed you, Katniss.”

It’s back to me looking away, my throat tightening up as well. I can feel his gaze on me, and lets out a mirthless puff of air.

“Know that’s probably not mutual.”

I’m about to start scowling at what sounds like a guilt trip, but he sweeps away my building annoyance.

“Which is okay. And...understandable,” he huffs.

Another awkward beat, the two of us shifting on our feet. Of course Gale is the one to cut it, his voice the gentlest it’s been this entire time.

“I just had to apologize. Get that all off my chest. I owed it to both you and Peeta for too long. I really am sorry, Katniss. For everything.”

When I don’t respond, hanging my head as moisture settles in my eyes again, he lets out another sigh. 

I won’t forgive him. I can’t forgive him. But I can at least...accept this, accept what he’s said. I can at least acknowledge that I appreciate his strange shift in mindsets.

Not with words though, of course. Not by saying something. So, almost as if on their own accord, my feet are carrying me towards him, closing our proximity for the first time in nearly a decade. I barely have the time to register his shocked expression before I’m against him, as best as my rotund stomach will allow.

The feeling of him against me, the ashen scent that floods my nose, is almost enough to make me gag, to make me think that this was a mistake. I’ve gotten accustomed to speaking through physical gestures. But with him, with Gale...

I tense, my breath speeding up considerably. But when he slowly and hesitantly completes the embrace, when his arms come around me...

There’s an absence of warmth, yes. But the familiarity, the promise of sincerity in his apology...

One or two tears manage to break free, streaming down my cheeks and signalling a breach in my composure. I have to break away before I let my emotions get the best of me. I guess after all of these years, after everything that happened, I still can’t let him see me cry. So I tug back against his hug, breaking it and avoiding his gaze.

“You and Peeta take care of yourselves,” he murmurs, finally signalling his departure.

I nod softly, starting to fidget with the bottom of my shirt.

“And...congratulations,” he says; I can see him nod towards my stomach out of the corner of my eye, “I can’t believe you’re about to become a mother...”

Again, I nod, my lip trembling ever so slightly.

There’s another pause, and then he murmurs his departing words.

“Good seeing you, Catnip...”

I heave at the utterance of the old nickname, finally looking at him again. He gives me one last saddened smile, before slowly turning back towards the door. He opens it, and is quick to venture out into the rainy weather, his form disappearing into the mists of Twelve like a shadowy apparition, like he was never even here.

I walk out onto the porch after he goes, before stepping into the gentle rain myself. I need it to stay in touch with reality. I need it to make sure that wasn’t some weird dream.

My grey gaze travels skyward towards the matching clouds, allowing the cold droplets to splash across my face. It feels cleansing, therapeutic.

Kind of like...the whole exchange that was just had. Cold, could be considered unpleasant even, but...perhaps needed. Cathartic.

Like some kind of weird closure to something that was so painful.

I open my eyes and lower my head, blinking away the tears and rain. I suddenly feel chilled out in the deluge, after such a conversation, needing warmth like nothing else. I spin on my heels and dart back into the house, seeking the only person who can give me that.

“...Peeta?” I call, though it comes out more like a whimper, my composure swaying dangerously.

“In here, love,” he tenderly replies.

I follow his voice into the living room to find him sitting on the couch in front of the roaring fire, a fresh plate of cheesebuns on the coffee table beside him. He’s wrapped in a blanket, and as grey meets soft blue, he holds it open in an invitation, one I don’t hesitate in taking.

In mere seconds I’m against him, burying my face into his neck, into everything that he is. And as he wraps half of the blanket around me, as he nuzzles me and peppers me with comforting kisses, all the crazy emotions that had been boiling up in me surface.

I cry. I sob. I wheeze my tears against my husband until I can barely breathe. He’s extraordinarily patient with me throughout, letting me get it out and not saying a word, simply stroking my hair or giving me soft kisses.

When I’ve exhausted myself, when I’ve drained myself of feeling, I sniffle and reveal my face again, snuggling further against Peeta. He of course is aware of the shift, and wraps his arms around me in a loving embrace.

“Hey...” he whispers, pressing his lips against my forehead, “You okay?”

“I...I think so...” I whisper back, my chest continuing to shiver with the occasional sob.

Peeta nods slowly, and continues to caress and kiss me. I have to give him credit; he doesn’t pry, doesn’t ask any questions about what happened. He puts the conversation entirely in my hands, only discussing what I feel comfortable with.

I allow the shivers coursing through my system to lessen, the fire and rain to soothe, and my husband to nurture, before I softly speak up again.

“He tried to apologize before...”

Peeta stops peppering me with his lips only to lean back a tad, listening intently to my soft explanation.

“After...after Prim...”

Her name comes out as a croak, which gets me another gentle kiss to the cheek before my husband leans back once more.

“I couldn’t forgive him then. Still couldn’t now.”

I can see Peeta’s mouth slightly tighten out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t say anything, simply nodding.

“I don’t know though...Something felt...different today...Better...”

“Yeah?” Peeta murmurs.

“Yeah...I don’t know. Maybe I’m just wrapped up in how unexpected it was...And weird...”

My husband lets out a puff of mirth, his hand softly drifting across my shoulder, rubbing gentle caresses

“It was...pretty weird, admittedly,” he agrees with a chuckle, before his voice runs serious again, “But...I think it was a good thing...”

I nod slowly, simply gazing towards the fire as I think things over. The flames have lessened a bit, not crackling and popping as strongly. Just like Gale; his flames seemed to have died down too. Neither are as aggressive anymore, as overpowering. That’s definitely not a bad thing at all.

A soft sigh huffs from my nose. I wonder if he’s ever going to stop by again. I don’t think I’d be affected if he didn’t. But I also don’t think I’d be full of hatred if he did.

Strange. I didn’t expect to make some sort of semblance of peace with so many things today. Everything really does seem to be easing into harmony, into gentleness.

“What about you?” I finally murmur into the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“How’re you feeling about it?”

“Oh,” Peeta replies with a puff of soft laughter, “Ah, about the same as you I guess. Weirded out.”

I return the huff of laughter, and my husband chuckles more before continuing.

“I just...never expected him to show me gratitude.”

“Or apologize.”

“Oh, you heard?”

I nod, my voice dropping a tad in pitch, protectiveness and possessiveness swirling throughout.

“About time he actually showed you proper respect and appreciation.”

My sudden seriousness must take Peeta by surprise, because he halts his caresses and movements. When he gets a load of my scowl though, my grumpiness, he lets out another soft huff, his facial expression melting back into tenderness.

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t really matter in this, sweetheart. What’s more important to me is that he showed that respect to you.”

“No, he needed to understand how much I love you, Peeta. How much you mean to me. I don’t think he does entirely, don’t think anyone does. At least he has a better idea now.”

Again, I’ve stunned my husband. Only this time, I can see a wonderful, shy smile slowly stretching his features. It reminds me of the smile he gave me when I thanked him for the pearl, or the smile he gave me when I first told him I loved him.

He hangs his head a bit, letting out a soft laugh.

“You’re...incredible, you know that?”

I feel my scowl shifting towards a smile now as well, shaking my head at his compliment.

“Alright. Well, how about we say that...it was good for both of us, and that I love you to the point where I can’t properly express it myself,” he murmurs.

“Hmm...Guess I’ll have to settle for that.”

This time when Peeta laughs, I’m unable to stop myself from doing so too. And I finally turn to look at him for the first time since sitting down, as he’s actually the person I can give a proper physical gesture to.

“Peeta?”

“Hmm?”

I take a moment to appreciate his tender stare, his striking features, his ever growing smile when our eyes meet. I cannot help but smile softly in return, my tone growing lighter.

“There’s...a kiss with your name on it...”

The way his face manages to light up even more, even brighter than the embers beside us, melts my heart.

We kiss and embrace until we run hotter than the fire, until the cheesebuns beside us run cold. We caress until the cold dampness still clinging to my skin shifts elsewhere, until the possessiveness really wants to take over. We ravish each other until we drown out the rain pounding on the roof, until we give each other all the love and appreciation we can offer.

Later, we lay in bed as both us and the evening weather cool down, our bare bodies tangled and our hands laced across our precious one nestled within me. Mental and physical exhaustion set in as I nestle closer to Peeta, lazily peppering him with kisses. But after everything, after such an odd turn of events...I feel whole.

My week had started with mounting worry, with growing fear. And now, it’s ending with heightening peace, with easing tension. It’s ending with things tying up in strange, lovely little knots. It’d ending with more of a focus on what’s ahead, less of what’s behind us.

In the loving arms of my husband, I don’t have any nightmares. And with the apologies still hanging in my conscious, my scars hurt a little less.

[dracoisalooker76]

My Heart is Heavy - Part 3

Happy Bachelor Monday! I wanted to get this out before the finale tonight so Katniss and Peeta’s journey is entirely their own. You can read the previous parts of this Everlark Bachelor!AU at the links below:

Part 1

Part 2

...

Peeta supposes there are much worse things in life than being stuck in Portugal, forced to film, while nurturing a broken heart, but it’s unfathomable that anything could feel worse in this moment.

Once Katniss left to go home, his contract maintained that he would need to stay for the remainder of the shoot. While the crew did damage control, trying to figure out how to salvage a finale when the verdict becomes clear the episode before, Peeta was given a momentary reprieve from the camera. He cried a lot. He ran more than he has ever run in his life - on the treadmill, on the city streets, on the beach. But he also knew what was coming. They could only delay Glimmer’s filming for so long before she got suspicious, so he took it into his own hands. With just Cressida behind him for crew, he sat each of the women down and informed them of what happened. Neither took it well. Cashmere sobbed and Glimmer begged him for a chance, saying that he needed to move on from Katniss and why not with her?

In comparison to how horrible the night Katniss left made him feel, their break ups were relatively easy. It made him feel nauseous doing it, but he knew he couldn’t pursue anything with either of them. What he had told Katniss was the truth - he knew he would be going home from this with her or with no one.

He had just naively assumed it wouldn’t be the latter.

Unfortunately, due to contractual obligations, he has to remain in Portugal to do more filming while the girls are allowed to go home. They want everything they could possibly need before they send him back to the US. So he walks the beach. He paces with an empty ring box that will be used for promo purposes.

That one hurts. Cressida knows it hurts him and as soon as it’s finished, she guides him back to the hotel and away from prying eyes. Local teenagers have begun to realize who he is and have been caught trying to sneak a peak and the last thing he needs is to have gawky-eyed teens asking him why he can’t stop crying.

He and Cressida sit across from one another at the little kitchenette in his hotel suite in silence. There is nothing she can do or say to help him and he doesn’t want her to speak. He has gotten over his initial anger with her and the crew for bringing Haymitch, now with a clearer head agreeing that Katniss would have left no matter what. In some ways he is glad they brought Haymitch, glad that he helped coach Katniss on how she needed to leave, because the sooner it happened the sooner he can heal.

Cressida reaches across the table. “We all wanted this to work for you,” she says. “You’re one of our favorites.”

He doesn’t even bother faking a grin. “Thanks.”

He knows he’s a fan favorite, that he was chosen after an abysmal Bachelor season before his. Cato was a fiend and the fans hated his schemes and slimey ways with the women. He knows it left the producers scrambling during the following Bachelorette season to find someone wholesome that the crowd could root for rather than hate watch. So when he came on the show claiming the desire to find love and fans were livid when he got the boot as a top five contender before Hometowns, Caesar approached him about the position.

After having been on The Bachelorette, he knew the chances of finding his soulmate were slim but not impossible. So he signed on. What could it hurt?

Except, you know, his heart.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out. He was given it back last night, after producers had kept it through almost the entirety of filming, to call Rye. His brother had to sign and send an NDA before Peeta could call. But they didn’t take it back last night after the call, something he had been surprised about but didn’t bring to their attention. Having it, even if he wasn’t really using it, felt like some small bit of normalcy.

He lifts his iPhone and his eyes widen at the name lit up on his screen. Primrose Everdeen.

The one other time the producers allowed him to have his phone was in order to get Prim’s number while he was visiting Katniss’s family. It was a whole big production of them trying to find it in their bags of things and then handing it to him, setting up their cameras, making him re-ask for her number, and then immediately taking it back per Bachelor rules.

But why is Prim calling him now?

He sets it down on the table and Cressida’s eyes also widen. She motions for him to pick it up and put it on speaker, leaving the table to grab her camera.

Once Cressida gets a quick shot of Prim’s name on the screen, Peeta presses the speaker button.

“Hey, Prim. I have to put you on speaker. Is that okay?”

“Oh my God, are you still in Portugal? I’m so sorry! This call must be so expensive for you. And it’s probably so late. How far ahead are you? Oh, nevermind. I’m so sorry!” she rambles. “I can wait. Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

“No, Prim, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he says. “So, let’s start again. Hey, Prim. What’s up?”

She giggles. “Hey.” Then her voice goes serious again. “So, um, I just wanted to call to apologize. It’s my fault that you got your heart broken.”

He frowns. The Everdeen girls are the most confusing humans he’s ever met.

“What do you mean?”

She sighs on the other end. “I’m the one that submitted Katniss’s application.”

He leans his head on his hand. Well, things are starting to make a little more sense.

“But, I did it for good reasons,” she insists. “You see, I love The Bachelor. I watch every season and I just knew you’d get picked and I thought you would be so good for Katniss. Like, she deserves someone nice and...to be honest, I didn’t expect you to pick her. I expected her to go home pretty quickly actually. She can be kind of prickly.”

He can’t help but chuckle.

“But then she didn’t and honestly I was shocked - we all were - that she was going to bring you home. Like, she doesn’t do that. When a guy loves her, she just completely ignores them and tosses them to the curb because of her stupid convictions. So I was kind of nervous for you.” She sighs again. “But, then I saw you guys together and obviously I haven’t seen you with everyone else, but I know my sister. I’ve never seen her that happy before.”

He shakes his head. Great, that doesn’t exactly make him feel any better. It almost hurts worse knowing that Katniss does share strong feelings for him and still left.

“You do know that she left me, right?” he asks. “I tried to get her to stay and she wouldn’t do it.”

“Yeah, she told me,” Prim says. “She told me everything. And I’m sorry, whoever is listening to this, I swear I won’t tell anyone. I already signed that agreement thingy. Don’t get my sister in trouble.”

Cressida chuckles. Prim is literally a sweetheart. At least some of this is definitely going to be aired.

“You’re okay, Prim,” Cressida says.

There’s a slight pause.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love my sister?”

He nods his head and his voice cracks as he answers. “Yeah.”

“Well, this may be a lot to ask, but...she loves you. I know she does. But you’re gonna have to be patient with her if you really want it. Our parents really did a number on her, but I think if you’re patient with her, Katniss can get there with you.”

His heart pounds. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up because this is Prim, not Katniss, and it could be entirely a misjudgment. But he wants to believe it so badly.

“You really think that?” he asks. He can hear his voice tremble.

The answer is almost instantaneous. “Yes. I don’t think it will be easy, but...if Katniss lets anyone be her person, it’s going to be you.”

“Prim, she’s already gone.”

“You know where we live,” she says. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

His mouth is dry at Prim’s suggestion. Does she really think that he still has a shot? Katniss always spoke so highly of her sister that he has a hard time believing that she would say something like this if she didn’t think it was true. She wants her sister to be happy. She wouldn’t tell Peeta to try one more time if she didn’t think it was what Katniss wanted.

He and Prim hang up and he runs his hands over his face. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he wants to do but he is so scared of getting to Katniss and being rejected again. He can’t get his hopes back up only to have them crash down for a second time.

“So, what are you going to do?” Cressida asks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I can’t get hurt again. I can’t.”

“Maybe if you go in with no expectations?” she suggests. She shrugs. “You can talk it out and it might not get you a relationship but maybe it will give you some closure.”

“Maybe,” he says. “I’ll think about it.”

He has a few more days in Portugal anyway. It’ll give him a chance to decide what is best for his heart.

…

Prim knocks on the door before she enters, sticking her head in first before pushing the whole door open. She leans against the door frame and crosses her arms, giving Katniss a face that looks too much like pity. So, Katniss turns away and toward the window. She wraps her arms around the pillow a little tighter and clenches her eyes shut.

“If Haymitch sent you up here, tell him to go to Hell.”

“Katniss,” Prim sighs.

She can hear Prim’s footsteps across the floor until she feels the light weight of her sister sitting on the mattress.

“Did you do anything today?”

Prim already knows the answer. Katniss is sure that the whole reason she came up was because Haymitch told her what Katniss has been in bed all day.

Prim moves off the bed and when Katniss opens her eyes, her sister, who at seventeen seems more mature than half the girls Katniss met in the Bachelor mansion (including, at times, herself), is kneeling in front of her on the ground, her chin resting on the bed so their faces are so close Katniss can’t lie to her. Katniss is a terrible liar anyway, but all of her emotions are written on her blotchy face.

“Why does it hurt so much?” she asks Prim. “I broke up with him.”

“Just because you left doesn’t mean you don’t love him, that you don’t miss him,” Prim says. She reaches forward and puts her hand over Katniss’s and squeezes.

“I can’t believe I let myself do this,” she mumbles, her throat lodging with more tears. She can’t stop crying. She hasn’t cried since her father died and now all the pent-up tears can’t stop. “I let myself get attached.”

“But it felt good, didn’t it?” Prim asks. “You sure looked happy when you were around him.”

She was happy. But was that happiness worth this heartache? She isn’t sure.

The night she broke up with Peeta, she and Haymitch spent the night at a hotel next to the airport since their flight flew out early the next morning. She was so upset, she made herself sick to her stomach. Haymitch held her hair back and then carried her to the bed and let her sob. When they landed, Prim was waiting for them and even though she had been calm on the flight, the second she saw Prim the waterworks started again. Haymitch drove with the two girls in the back. She cried herself to sleep and woke up with Prim in her bed and Haymitch snoring in the old butterfly chair in the corner of her room.

A few days of that went by before Haymitch started to get frustrated with her. Prim continued to coddle her but Haymitch switched to tough love. This morning, when she didn’t move, he dragged her down the hall and all but threw her into the shower. Yesterday he threatened to bring her to the emergency room to get a feeding tube put in if she didn’t eat anything.

She stubbornly kept her mouth closed. He stuffed a burned Eggo waffle in her mouth, just buttered with no syrup to help it slide down.

“Well, look at me now, Prim,” she says, hastily wiping her face. “Do I look happy now?”

“Your heart is broken. Of course not.” Prim clasps her hands together on the bed and rests her chin on top of them. “You could call him.”

She shakes her head. “He’s still in Portugal.”

“He has his phone.”

Katniss raises an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

Prim clenches her teeth together, her cheeks tinted pink. “I...don’t.”

Katniss sits up and narrows her eyes. She and Prim don’t share a lot of traits. Where Katniss is dark, Prim is light. Where Katniss is grounded, Prim is ethereal. The only things they share, which are two traits they got from their father, are that they’re both short and they’re both terrible liars.

“Primrose Everdeen, what did you do?” she hisses.

Prim holds her hands up. “I just wanted to apologize, you know, because I feel like part of this is my fault. You know, Jo and I made your application and I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Oh my god, you did not,” Katniss says, throwing her hands in the air. “So you basically rubbed it in his face? How none of this was real? Prim!”

“No, I didn’t!” Prim exclaims. “I swear! I never made it seem like it wasn’t real.”

“Prim, this is real life. This isn’t one of those teen dramas where you can call him and everything turns to sunshine and roses!” Katniss exclaims. “I broke his heart. I led him on. I never told him that you submitted the application. I lied to him and you made it worse!”

Katniss falls back into her pillows, covering her face in her hands. She hears Prim stand up and storm to the door. She drops her hands to see what Prim is doing. Her sister gets to the doorway and turns around, arms crossed and glaring.

“No, Katniss. I don’t think I made it worse,” Prim says. “You are miserable and he sounds just as miserable as you. So I called and told him that I was sorry but I also told him that you love him. Yeah, you may not want to but you do and you would save yourself and Peeta a whole lot of hurting if you’d just realize that love isn’t what’s going to break you. It’s being apart that is breaking you right now.”

She spins on her heel and storms down the hall, her footsteps heavy on the stairs as she goes back down. Probably to complain to Haymitch about her.

Katniss slides into the pillows and closes her eyes tightly. Maybe when she wakes up this will all just be a bad dream.

Prim is right in a way. She is miserable. Her heart is completely broken by her own doing. It’s like she said in the exit interview while they drove away that night in Portugal - “I broke two hearts tonight.” She never wanted to love someone to the point where she could be this broken, but she got there anyway. She loves Peeta and it absolutely terrifies her that it happened so quickly and without her control.

Can she fall out of it? Will she just rot like this, like her mother did, or can she move on? Can she live her life without Peeta in it and forget what it felt like when he was around? She misses him so much. His laughter. His spirit. His kindness. She could probably move on. She pushed Gale completely out of her life and did just fine. She would survive. Once her heart heals, she would be okay.

The real question is, does she want to forget about Peeta Mellark?

She glances at her phone, which she hasn’t really touched since she returned. Even if she wanted to reach out to Peeta for whatever reason - which she can’t, she broke his heart and it’s not her place to go crawling back - she doesn’t have any way to contact him without telling Prim she’s doing it and she doesn’t want to get Prim’s hopes up. The only way she could do it herself would be to DM him through Instagram or Twitter and she is sure she’d just get lost in the sea of girls messaging him because he is the Bachelor.  

But she sort of left him under the impression that she didn’t want him to contact her. Peeta even said it was up to her. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Would he come rushing back to her if she told him it was okay? She doesn’t know. Maybe he is completely over her. Maybe he proposed to Glimmer or Cashmere.

She stands and picks up her phone, opening her Instagram app. She finds Peeta quickly. He’s verified and his picture is his Bachelor portrait - probably something in his contract. This is impulsive, something she may very well come to regret in the morning, but her fingers type even when her brain tells her to stop.

Hi Peeta. I want to say I’m so sorry again for what happened in Portugal. Prim told me she called you and told you that I love you. I do. But I also come with a lot of baggage that I didn’t share during our time on set, stuff that makes it so hard for me accept the feelings I have for you. I was not trying to manipulate you to move myself further or anything like that. It is just so hard for me to be vulnerable with other people. I understand that you’re probably mad at me, and you may not even reply to this, but if you would like to talk or anything please let me know. I would really like to have another less emotional conversation with you that can

She stops and erases the last sentence. That sounds horrible. It sounds scripted. She can’t write that. Instead, she types:

I’m willing to be open with you.

She presses send before she can second guess herself.

…

One Month Later

Peeta steps off the jet bridge and into the terminal, immediately searching out an open seat. His ears still haven’t popped and he knows he has an extra pack of gum in his backpack. He ruffles through the front pocket, trying not to let everything fall out. Cressida told him it was a bad idea to try and pack everything for his trip in one carry-on, but he didn’t listen.

This is a busy week for him. He was on Ellen two days ago and then he immediately flew to New York. He was on The View this morning and his segment with Stephen Colbert will air this evening. He has two days here, one of which will include filming a few additional segments for the finale, before he has to be back on a plane to LA for the Monday night season premiere of The Bachelor.

It’s going to be a whirlwind, but this weekend is going to make it all worth it.

He finds the gum and mutters a Thank God under his breath as he crams one of the pieces as far back as it will go, chewing with his left molars to get his ear to pop. Once he has gotten into a chewing rhythm and everything sounds less like he’s underwater, he throws his backpack over his shoulders and turns around.

And is immediately met by two teenage girls.

“Peeta?” one of them asks.

They stand in front of him, eyes wide, both with their phones out. He needs to get out of here before people put two-and-two together about where he is. He can’t ruin his season before it even airs - Caesar would kill him - but he can’t not say hello. They look about sixteen or seventeen and he’s a sucker for kids. He’s not going to crush their spirit.

“Hey, girls, how are you?”

“OMG, we’re like, your biggest fans,” one of the girls says.

“Yeah, like, we were hoping you would win on The Bachelorette, but I’m so glad you didn’t because I’m so excited you’re the bachelor,” the other rambles.

“Can we get a selfie?” the first girl asks.

Cressida, who walked off the flight unscathed, meets his eye across the boarding area and taps her watch. He knows. He only has a matter of time before someone sees him a causes a true scene. Caesar is probably going to kill him for this and Reality Steve will use this in a few months as evidence for Peeta spoiling the season, but he can’t say no to the girls. They seem pretty harmless. So, he makes up a little white lie.

“If it’s quick. I have a tight connection I have to make.”

The girls nod and quickly get into position. They smile for the camera and he notices other people have started to look. Oh, no, he’s definitely gonna get caught.

They smile and snap the photo, the girls’ grins so bright in the screen. They thank him profusely.

“I hope they casted some great girls for you,” one of the girls says.

He nods. “There are thirty lovely ladies. I can assure you.”

The other smirks. “Are you engaged?”

He shrugs. “I guess you’ll just have to watch the season to see. It was nice meeting you, but I really have to go catch my flight.”

They let him go and he walks toward Cressida, who in the time it took for him to take the selfie managed to grab a baseball hat from the souvenir stand. She hands it to him and he stuffs his trademark blond curls in the light blue cap, hoping now he’ll blend in rather than be a beacon to anyone who somewhat follows The Bachelor franchise.

She has her phone out and sighs. “Well, you have officially been tagged at RDU,” she says, holding out the phone. She managed to find the girls’ Instagram accounts and, low and behold, there is Peeta’s shining face. “I sure am glad your season is pretty predictable in who you pick and that the main drama is how it all works out.”

“Do you really think people are going to realize that I’m visiting Katniss?”

“First comment: OMG DO YOU THINK THAT MEANS HE PICKS THE NC GIRL?” She shrugs. “I dunno. You tell me.”

He looks over her shoulder and points at the screen.

“There, the poster responded. I dunno he said he had a connection so he’s not stopping for her if he did.” He gives a small smirk. “There, Caesar can’t kill me now. I at least tried to cover it up.”

She shakes her head. “Let’s just get you out of here before people see us leaving.”

He isn’t a big celebrity, but he feels like it as airport security guides him and Cressida through a back door. A transport car with black tinted windows is waiting for him. As soon as he gets in, he takes off the baby blue cap and sets it on the seat beside him.

He hasn’t see Katniss in person since she left Portugal. He debated back and forth about whether he was ready to put his heart back on the line like Prim suggested, ultimately deciding not to do anything until he touched back down in the US with filming wrapped. He went about checking all his social media that had been neglected during his journey and nearly missed Katniss’s DM as he was quickly deleting random junk. The fact that she had reached out to him first gave him the courage to message her back.

Rye wasn’t too convinced that Katniss wasn’t just trying to get back into his good graces to pilot herself to Instagram stardom and sponsorships, but Peeta knew how little Katniss posted online and how out of touch she was for a 23-year-old in today’s social media age. It didn’t sound like her to want to be the spokeswoman for something like Fab Fit Fun or hair vitamins and her message had sounded sincere. So the two started out with messaging through Instagram before moving on to text messages. Then phone calls and FaceTime.

Despite the fact that it’s only been a little over a month since he wrapped filming, he has spent more than twice as much time communicating with her than he did during the two months they were on set together. She is someone he feels comfortable sharing even the worst details of his life with, things he had kept quiet on set. The steadiness he feels with Katniss allowed him to open up completely, telling her more about the dynamics of his family on a call that lasted so long his phone actually overheated and shut off. He told her that he was the child that was supposed to save his parents’ marriage, born ten and thirteen years after his older brothers. He tells her about how neither of his parents made it a secret they wanted a girl. How his oldest brother left the family when Peeta was eight, cutting himself off completely, and how his father married a woman twenty years his junior and started a whole new family - the boy, the girl, the Labrador retriever and the white picket fence.

He tells her about Rye’s party animal ways and how his mother’s verbal abuse got to be so bad that Rye hid him in the dorms, registered him for school with a fake address and how his older brother walked him to the elementary school down the road every morning before going to class himself. He told her how his prepubescent years were spent being raised by coeds who thought he was cute until someone had to stay behind to watch him while the rest went to the clubs. Because Rye was the life of the party with a wicked charming smile, he somehow managed to convince someone to always stay behind, and so little Peeta spent most weekend nights sitting with one of Rye’s friends, watching Disney movies if it was a responsible friend or learning about the hierarchy of cheap beer from others.

It’s all part of why he submitted an application to The Bachelorette. He wants nothing more in the world than to find someone who loves him as much as he loves her. He wants a partnership as much as passion. Granted, finding that on a reality show might not have been where most people would expect, but he thought anything was worth a try. After being bounced from person to person, place to place, never really finding his niche, he just wanted someone to love him back.

As they shared stories back and forth, being open about their pasts and where they see their future, he learned so much about Katniss. She’s witty and sarcastic in a way that couldn’t shine through with five or six crew members trailing behind them with cameras. She could probably survive in the wilderness but can barely figure out new technology. Prim is in charge of her social media now that she is contractually obligated to keep it up during the airing of the show. He saw her maternal side on the show, but he now knows she’s also fiercely loyal and an amazing singer and someone who can make him laugh.

She is also less confusing. She told him her story on why she is scared of relationships. Her parents had one of those soulmates love stories, where her mother actually stopped talking to her family who didn’t approve of the boy that would become Katniss’s father. Katniss never realized how much her family struggled as she was growing up because she was surrounded by so much love and attention. Her father encourage her and Prim in ways Peeta hopes he can do for his children. And then her father died right before her eleventh birthday and her mother broke down and turned to drugs to ease the pain. When Katniss told the story it nearly broke his heart.

“So, my mom would do her drugs in this park downtown, where all the addicts hung out together, and then one day she started bringing it home. A couple months later, Prim and I came home from school and she had OD’d. I called an ambulance and we went with her. An ER doc called CPS and Prim and I were separated for seventy-four days in different foster homes. I don’t know how, but by some luck Haymitch got Prim as a foster kid, she told him about me, and the rest was history. He adopted us as soon as my mom relinquished her rights and I told myself that I would never do what she did. I would never allow myself to love someone so much that I lost myself when I lost them. I guess I just figured that if I didn’t love anyone like that at all, then I’d always be safe. I just didn’t realize what I was missing by cutting it out of my life completely.”

It wasn’t long after that they decided to be unofficially official, a funny term just for them as they waited for the season to play before they could be out in the open. But it didn’t stop them from wanting to actually see one another. FaceTime is great but it just isn’t the same as being together. So when Peeta casually mentioned to Cressida what was going on behind the scenes, she talked to Caesar. With the caveat that they film some scenes they could edit into the finale, they would make sure Peeta got to Katniss before the season premiere, pushing dates and appearances specifically for them.

So that’s how he ended up in North Carolina a few days before the season premiere, in the back of a familiar transport vehicle.

They pull off the highway and into a quiet neighborhood that Peeta remembers from his visit to Katniss’s hometown back in November. Caesar wants it to appear like Peeta left Portugal and went straight to Katniss, so he has a little monologue in the car and they’ll shoot him walking up to her door to knock on it. They’ll end the episode there and everything will be revealed on the live ‘After the Final Rose’ episode, a compromise that Peeta and Katniss agreed to do. Neither wanted the cameras around for their first meeting. They’ll film some shots together tomorrow that Cressida mentioned for some sort of montage, but today is just for them.

They pull up in front of Katniss’s house and a flood of memories rush to him. He and Prim hit it off well, but he’s pretty sure Haymitch isn’t exactly his biggest fan. He takes a deep breath and takes the rose off the seat beside him. He will hold it as he walks to her door and knocks, but then during a fake scene tomorrow he’ll have his ‘final rose ceremony’ in a location that Cressida sent some intern to explore.

He knocks on the door and then Cressida calls cut. He holds the rose out to her to take and then the crew starts to pack up. Once they’re back in the car, on their way to the hotel, he knocks again. That’s Katniss’s signal that the cameras are gone.

His heart beats out of his chest. The first time he ever saw Katniss she was dressed in a long gown, walking out of a limo toward him at the Bachelor Mansion. He could tell she was nervous that night, her voice shook, and he tried to take the lead so her nerves wouldn’t show too much on camera. Honestly, her first impression wasn’t a stellar one. He has seen bits of how they’re editing it and Katniss won’t make a big impact on the first night unless someone is really analyzing it.

But that was Katniss the Contestant. Katniss opens the door now with a big grin on her face and that’s really the only thing he can register before she has her arms around him. She’s up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and he lifts her up, her legs circling his waist, holding on so tightly like she doesn’t want to let go.

She puts her forehead on his. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says back.

“How was your flight?”

“It was fine. Got me here.” He doesn’t know if he should kiss her. It would be so easy to do but he doesn’t want to rush anything. He wants to show her that he is fine taking things as slow as she wants them to go. “So, what are we up to tonight?”

“I’m not use to being the one to create the date card,” she teases. Then she slides down his body, gesturing for him to follow her. “So, Haymitch and Prim are out. It’s just us.”

His eyebrows raise. “Really?”

She nods, leading him into the kitchen. “Yeah. They went to a movie and then they’re gonna do dinner out so it gives us some time alone.” She turns back and winces. “I, uh, I tried to cook.”

“You never told me you were a chef.”

She shakes her head. “Not exactly,” she says. He looks over her shoulder and sees the remains of something on a pan in the sink, though he can’t tell what it was originally. “Prim says they can bring something back later but we could always order a pizza.”

He chuckles. “That’s up to you. You’re usually hungry so we can do pizza.”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” she says.

She tells him to sit down on the couch in the living area that’s open to the kitchen and he watches her order the pizza once they decide on the toppings. She drops her phone and comes to join him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” she says.

He lets his hand fall to her knee and she curls into his side. “Yeah, it feels good.”

Her eyes keep darting from his hand to his face, from his eyes to his lips.

“What is it?” he asks.

She tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, almost looking embarrassed. Then she looks up at him with wide eyes.

“I kind of want to kiss you right now.”

He feels like his face might break in half the way his grin stretches. “So why haven’t you?”

“I dunno. Can I?” She blushes. “Look, I haven’t done this before. You’re gonna have to be real patient with me.”

“Alright, just so you know,” he says, leaning in close. “I’m your boyfriend, so feel free to kiss me anytime you want.”

She leans forward and gives him a feather light kiss, so short that he barely feels her do it. Their eyes meet and he reaches forward, taking her face in both his hands as they meet again. They’ve kissed plenty of times before, sometimes for long stretches of time on their one-on-one moments during the show, but this kiss is the start of something new. With nothing to interrupt them but themselves and no one watching through camera viewfinders or TV screens, this is a moment just for them.

They only break apart when the doorbell rings. Katniss sits in Peeta’s lap and slowly slides her hands out from under his shirt. They share a smile and Katniss leaves one last peck on his lips before climbing off him and fixing her braid.

“I’ll get that,” she says. “Then we can pick up where we left off?”

He nods. Yes, they can, because they have all the time in the world.

...

And there we go, an HEA for Bachelor!Peeta and Katniss. 

Hope you enjoyed! Maybe I’ll dabble in this universe again if the spirit takes me. This was fun.

[savvylark]

Crush It - chapter 8

This story started with the prompt: “You’re my crush’s sibling and I started dating you to piss off my crush and make them jealous enough to confess feelings for me, except you’re actually really sweet and awesome and I think I might like you better, and I don’t know what to do now that my plan seems to have worked.”

An Everlark Summer College AU. Huge thank you to my Beta, the legend, my personal friend @katnissdoesnotfollowback who this story was written for. Her advice and incites are invaluable. When I was discouraged she nudged me and motivated me. Also shout out to my new friend @butrfac14 for pre-reading this.  And thank you to the talented @akai-echo for this beautiful banner!!

Rated: M or maybe E for dream smut and future Everlark steaminess.

Read it here on Ao3 or 

As I drive home in a figurative fog, the emotions I've been repressing have clouded to the surface, a storm builds inside me. Echoing how I feel in unexpected solidarity, light water droplets pepper my windshield. When I first formulated my plan, I planned to date Peeta, casually, so as not to hurt anyone… and it seems I've hurt everyone, especially myself.

Lightning flashes as the song playing on the car radio croons on about a crush, of all things. The sound is vaguely familiar. Though I haven't sung a note since my dad passed years ago I find myself humming along.

The lyrics express the exciting hesitant eye contact, the sighing, the blushing, the curiosity and want for more. That's how I felt about Rye. An emotional reaction. A fleeting thrill. We were both interested in the other's attention. What it did to boost the other's ego. It felt good, exciting. Temporary.

The cold reality washes over me.

As the radio shifts to a song with more depth, a raspy voice confesses a deeper love.

The damn inside me breaks.

Tears roll down my cheeks and I'm forced to sort out my feelings.

Peeta and I looked out for each other. Had our own lives, our own interests. We confided in each other, opened up about real things and shared hardships in our past. He paid attention to the things I cared about, and what would fit into my busy life as well as his own. We looked out for each other. There was a healthy give and take. It seemed to come so naturally. We just fit. Whether consciously or unconsciously, I was slowly falling, with each caress, embrace, hand squeeze. In our comfortable silences. We were living life together side by side. A unified front.

I do have some lingering questions that confuse me. How much of it was Peeta merely playing along to help me make Rye jealous? How much of it was real?

I started to hope the things were real for him. The things he said the night he fought with Rye might have meant...but now I don’t know. He could have said those things in defense of a friend. Maybe I heard it all wrong.

The beautiful melody and lyrics prompt a memory I’ve tucked deep in my heart for safe keeping, I remember my father's face.

His dark hair hung over his forehead and eyebrows, knitted in concern or concentration, his jaw clenched and eyes squinted. Then my mother seemed to float by, a flutter of silky flowing golden hair and creamy pale skin. She wrapped her arms around my father and murmured sweet reassurances in his ear. His steely gray eyes softened and seemed to sparkle as his whole expression loosened all tension. His shoulders relaxed and his strong arms wrapped around my mother. He held her tightly as if she was giving him strength, re-energizing him. He sighed and swayed with my mother in his embrace to the music.

Then, as if he was actually in the car, a voice over the radio becomes my father's singing voice to my ears. Painting beauty in my mind's eye, a deep rolling vibrato rumbling in my chest, resonating out and swirling through the car back to me. A precious sound I treasure and keep locked away. Conjuring up the memory of the look in his eyes, the unmistakable expression of love on his face when he would sing to mother.

Sweet moments with Peeta Mellark come flooding back. There's a big difference between a crush and the way that Peeta has deeply rooted himself within me. I gasp when I finally recognize the sound I barely recognize myself. It's my own voice echoing back to me.

I hate to cry, but for some reason I don’t fight it. I let the tears fall and as if I willed it to, the light tapping of the rain on the car increases and pours down. Lighting flashes again, the thunder roars, and rumbles deep in my chest, drowning out my sobbing.

It's almost cathartic, the earth and I are in agreement. Crying out together, alone.

I revved the engine, water splashing, lightning flashing. A hazy watercolor scene of blues, grays and flickers of blinding bright lightning.

I make a split second decision and u-turn, gunning my car back to the bakery. Back to Peeta.

I have to tell him.

I screech to a halt, bolt out of car and feel the water soak my clothes, but somehow I don’t feel cold. I feel red hot. I sprint through the metallic and glass bakery doors. I’m flooded with hope at the sight of Peeta’s smiling face. I speak the words in my heart. The muted and muddled colors seem to pale and gray around me. His blue eyes look pained as his brows raise and lets me down gently. He was helping me make Rye jealous.

He only ever saw me as a friend.

Nothing more.

I turn over and gasp for air, then bury my face in my pillow and scream. I’ve had this dream a few times now. It seems to start out with true events, driving in the rain through tears as the radio plays.

I never turned around that day, but I dream of the ‘what if.’ What I find through the bakery door changes with each dream. I find Peeta kissing the blond he was with, I find him angry with me, and one instance that I cherish, he runs out before I reach the doors and kisses me in the rain.

It's Monday morning, or is it afternoon? I stand, rub my eyes and study the clock. I would normally be late for my second job by now.

As if life would ever relent in the roller coaster that this summer has been, last week my fatigue and an itchy throat came at me full force. My mom urged me to get checked out, and sure enough, the blood test came back positive: mononucleosis.

I was forced to quit my second job because of exhaustion. The fall semester is approaching, so I convinced Sae to keep me on the schedule at the diner, even if all I can do is four hours shifts, and then rush home to collapse into bed. She instructed me to wash my hands every chance I can and keep my mouth shut as much as possible. “I'm sure that will be difficult, I’m known to be so warm and talkative, Sae.” I rolled my eyes and then shrieked as Sae snapped her towel at me for my sass.

Adding insult to injury, Gale's various texts informed me that Rye was also bedridden with mono. Another reminder of the kisses we shared. I collapse in a heap on my bed and sigh into my pillow.

My days and nights are so mixed up. I've barely left the bed on days that I'm not scheduled to work. I'm fatigued all the time and pathetically weak. I hate being weak.

My eyelids grow heavy. In a sleepy daze, I distantly hear the rattling of the loose front door knob. Prim cheerfully greets someone at the door and eventually two muffled voices echo from the kitchen. The deep timbre I hear almost sounds like Peeta's, but that can't be right. “I love his warm laugh,” I mumble to my empty room as I drift back to unconsciousness.

As I feel a blanket being tugged over my body and a kiss planted on my cheek with a brush of stubble, I smell baked bread and a manly scent that bring me warm feelings. I grip the soft cotton fabric tightly and beg for the feeling, the sensation of home to stay. I feel moisture escape one of my eyes.

I hear a raspy whispered reply and I'm engulfed in a haze of warmth, sweet aromas and a sense of belonging.

I drift off in a blissful sleep thinking of deep blue eyes and orange sunsets.

I wake and it seems to be the middle of the day. I look next to me and muse, “I love dreams when I find myself wrapped in Peeta's arms.”

I gently reach for his hair and sink my fingers into the soft blond waves. I remember noticing these ashy blond strands in a couple of college courses we shared, and I couldn't help noticing the way his biceps protruded when he would stretch. I kept thinking he was out of my league, and I was right. I gently scratch at his scalp and study his profile through weary eyes.

“I do too.” He sighs, slowly opens his eyes, he tightens his hold on me, and snuggles a little closer into my chest.

My breaths becomes out heavier, my heart beats a little faster. I relish in the feeling of Peeta's body against mine.

“We need to eat. I'll make dinner soon.” I mumble.

“Not too soon alright?” His voice has a husky sleepy quality. His kind eyes meet mine and plead with sincerity, “Just let me take care of you for awhile.” I nod with a small smile.

This is such a nice dream. I feel so warm inside. Cocooned safely, wrapped in hope and light.

“I'll wake up any minute and he’ll be gone. He won't be mine. I’ll wake up alone and cold,” I think. The agony and longing in my heart causes me to wrap tighter around him.

“I'm so tired, Peeta.” I trail kisses across his jaw and whisper secrets in his ear. Words of longing. I confess that I think of him all the time and keep dreaming about him. I even blurt out that I was thinking about him when Rye kissed me, wishing it were Peeta instead.

“Every love song on the radio is about you.” I hum a tune, and sing the melody softly. He looks at me with surprise, happiness and opens his mouth to say something but closes it, looking curious, but almost afraid to say anything. Peeta sighs and holds me tighter.

I whisper, “I know I don't deserve you.” A tear slips down my cheek. All words I would never be brave enough to speak face to face to a living breathing non-dream Peeta. More tears seem to prick my eyes as I bury my face into his neck and inhale his scent, sweet bread and dill from baked goods.

“I'm sorry I ruined it Peeta, I'm sorry for everything.” I admit pathetically, and I drift back to sleep.

I turn over and open one eye. I'm alone, as expected. I wrap a blanket around myself to follow the banging pots and chopping noises in the kitchen. Prim’s happy chatter causes me to search the clock, 5pm. I squint. Does mom have a short shift today?

Two blond heads are bent down chopping vegetables and chatting in our tiny kitchen.

I do a double take because the second head is taller, and much broader than my mother.

I think I know why Peeta's here: I'm in trouble!!

I slap a hand over my forehead, “It's Monday isn't? I'm sorry Peeta! I didn't mean to bail on our hiking plans.” I grit my teeth and cover my eyes. Of course I'm already ruining our fragile newly established friendship.

Prim laughs, “Katniss that was hours and hours ago. I told him how exhausted you've been and,” she smiles at me with mischief in her eyes,  “how much nicer you are lately. You don't scowl as much! You're just sweet and pitifully tired.”

If I had more energy I would say something sarcastic, or at least make a face. Instead I just slump in a chair at the kitchen table wrapped in my blanket.

Prim smiles at me and tells me Peeta had her practice driving in an empty parking lot, he taught her how to parallel park. She's so excited to get her licence soon. She casually mumbles something about groceries.

“That's nice.” I remark as my head lobs forward. I give up, holding my head up is far too much work. I rest it in the crook of my arm on the table. Stifled laughter follows.

The laughing might be about me but I don't have the energy to care.

“Do you need anything for your throat?” Prim asks me, I open one eye to look at my amused sister with sweet baby blue eyes. “We picked up lozenges for you.”

I bob my head and close my eyes, just for a moment...

I turn and find myself wrapped in steady arms. I burrow in and inhale the calming scent.

I’m gently placed on my bed and my arms wrap around Peeta, I look up at him with blurry eyes. Things I want to ask him, things that I want to say linger heavy in my chest.

Why are you still here? Why are you taking care of me?

And of course the guilt.

I’m sorry.

His blue eyes twinkle as he looks at me, a crooked smile on his face.

I’m sorry I kissed Rye.

He motions to pull away and I shake my head and cling to him. “Just-- Will you talk to me?” I ask in a small voice. I shift and pull him to me, he groans but relents and shifts beside me.

We lay beside each other in silence, all my thoughts bubble and boil to the surface until I just blurt it out all at once “I didn’t do that on purpose, that wasn’t my plan to, er--” I sigh and try again, “I kissed Rye and it was a mistake. I didn’t… It didn’t…” I lower my head and hold my face in my hands with a discouraged sigh. I feel Peeta’s comforting hand lightly rub my back in circles.

“Katniss, it worked. Rye was jealous and he stopped stringing you along and admitted he liked you. He stepped it up because you reacted tactically, you faked left and gained the edge and you had him in a half Nelson-- exposing but not pinning. Most girls would go in for the take down, once they have him, they pin him…”

I shake my head and blink a few times. “What?”

Peeta sighs, shakes his head, scratches under his jaw and tries to explain again. “I already talked to Rye, I know you don’t want to be with him. You got close enough to know that he isn’t right for you. Thanks for putting my brother in his place. I think he needed that lesson,” he smiles sadly, “and I got to know you.” Peeta squeezes my hand and lets it fall.

“You say things when you’re tired. I don’t always know what’s real and what isn’t, but I’ll find out,” he whispers and I stare at a spot on the wall as my mind races, trying to imagine what that means. Did he hear me talk about my dad? Did I talk about Peeta in my dream about him?

“Don’t worry about it now, okay?” he says. I nod and stretch out, so that we're both lying in my bed facing the ceiling, and Peeta pipes up, “So tell me the story of how you won Lady the goat for Prim?”

His blue eyes are intent to listen, as I start in with how excited Prim was to see the goat at the fair. Peeta takes my hand in his and playfully draws shapes on my palm that make me... Well, warm, relaxed, and nervous I guess? Because it's hard not to concentrate on the gentle caresses across my palm.

“...and I looked at the target and thought, ‘well that can't be too hard.’ Sure enough, Gale would have scoffed at my so-called-competition. I basically had none. I found a pink ribbon at another booth for the goat to wear before I showed my sister. The best part was the look on Prim’s face.” Peeta’s blue gaze meets mine and my heart skips a beat. I bite my lip and attempt to divert the conversation.

“I knew that goat could be a gold mine, you can make a killing with goat milk at the farmers market. We've done pretty well.”

“Right, and it had nothing to do with how much you love your sister and her happiness?” Peeta asks in a teasing tone, his eyes gleam.

His fingers continue to trace each of mine and with gentle strokes in soft slow movements. I'm nearly taken adrift, lost in the sensation. I find my eyelids growing heavy, gently lulled to sleep. The kisses on my cheek slightly tickle.

I barely breathe out the word “Stay.” A pathetically vulnerable plea, but I just want him with me. I feel like everything is going to be alright with him near.

His sexy breathy voice does things to my insides that make me squirm and breathe heavier, “Always.”

His warm plush lips land on my cheeks. I feel his lips reach below my ear, then linger on my neck, a hum trembles deep in my throat. “That's not a friend thing to do.” I mumble, though I can't fight the tug of a smile I feel on my cheeks.

“Huh?” he asks, all too innocently and kisses my neck again.

“In the bakery, you said we were just friends.” I murmur drowsily.

“Friends, for now.” Peeta whispers just before I'm taken under the heavy nothingness that is a sound deep sleep, wrapped in safety and warmth.

“I just don't know why Peeta would want me to go to the zoo with his sister-in-law and nephews Saturday.”

Prim looks at me like I'm an idiot and throws a kernel of popcorn at me. I wince, turn my head and laugh.

“Why would he come by almost all week, knowing you would be a walking zombie, just to be with you?” she asks.

“I don't know, maybe he feels like he owes me because I helped him when he had a concussion?” I answer, frustrated.

“Katniss, you're oblivious sometimes, but not this bad. What's your real deal here?”

“Don't know, I'm scared? This is nothing like the way I felt about Rye, or any other guy for that matter. I think he's seeing a beautiful blond, and Rye did tell me Peeta had a silver tongue.” I huff, I’m getting frustrated and exhausting myself by over thinking.

“Did you ask him if he was seeing someone else?” She asks, her eyes twinkle in a way that tell me she finds my frustration funny.

I sigh and shake my head.

“And he's an amazing guy, I'm selfish, impulsive, brash…” I trail off and don't admit my fears about it not being real, he’s so kind to everyone. That doesn’t mean he feels the same.

We gather the popcorn bowls and set them on the coffee table, and then pile pillows in spots where people might want to lounge on the floor for our movie, because we only have one couch and a chair in our small living room.

“And what if those are things he wants? You're fierce, assertive, protective of those you love, and you jump at the chance to do what is right. Plus, you're beautiful, his eyes follow you when you're not looking.”

I start shaking my head because Peeta doesn't feel that way, and I'm plain looking. But those kisses on my neck and his words, “For now…”

Prim looks at me seriously, “He's so in tune with you, Katniss. He knew just what you needed when he planned this movie night!”

The bell rings and at the door I'm met with Finnick, Annie, Gale, Madge, and Peeta's smiling faces.

“We brought Pizzas!” Finnick announces, holding the hot boxes above his head as if dramatically bestowing a gift. Annie rolls her eyes and steps in to hug me and place the boxes on the counter.

Peeta has a way of making everyone feel comfortable in a group. The way his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile and how humor and hidden genuine compliments just roll off his tongue he makes everyone feel appreciated and keeps the conversation flowing without dominating it.  

I made it halfway way through the movie before my eyelids felt too heavy. My head started to nod, as I fought to keep eyes open.

Peeta opened his arms I started to slump towards him and snuggled into his warm soft sweatshirt. Enjoying his comforting scent and the safe feeling of his arms wrapped around me as my eyes slid shut.

[evergreen-everdeen]

Ship Tag

Ship: Everlark

Love:

Who fell in love first?

Peeta. Hard to beat 5 years old.

Who asked who out?

Katniss invited him back to her cave to drink broth and chill after she dug him up from the mud <333

Who said ‘I love you’ first?

Technically, Peeta. It was common knowledge that he actually loved her during the Games, but after returning to Twelve, she was the first one to admit it when asked.

Who kissed who first?

Katniss. Had to get those sponsors, ya know?

How was their first kiss according to your muse?

Not ideal. Peeta was bleeding out, and it was broadcasted to the entire country. Wouldn’t exactly call it romantic.

Are their kisses more sweet or passionate?

Sweet. They share plenty of passionate kisses, but prefer sweet kisses throughout the day.

Who touches (non-sexual) the other more?

Surprisingly, Katniss. Being close to him is extremely comforting for her. His touch often keeps her grounded.

Dating:

How was their first date?

Hot. Oh wait, that was just his fever.

Who pays on dates?

They have more money than they know what to do with, so things like that aren’t really a concern.

Who picks where they go on dates?

Twelve is pretty small, so I’m sure they both usually agree on where to go. Peeta is far more likely to suggest going out vs staying in, though.

Who drives? Who holds the door?

Even if they drove, Twelve ain’t big enough for that. Peeta holds the door, even though Katniss always teases him and insists he doesn’t have to.

How often do they go out on dates?

Pretty often. Katniss usually likes to stay in, but always agrees to go out whenever he wants.

Wedding:

Who proposed?

Peeta. Both times. Though the second one wasn’t for the rest of the world to see, and they had probably talked about the idea at some point before that.

Who did most of the wedding planning?

They had a traditional Toasting instead of a wedding, so there wasn’t much to plan.

Where did they get married?

In front of the fireplace in their living room.

Who did your muse pick as best man/maid of honor?

Their Toasting was private, but they celebrated later with the people they would have wanted beside them had they had a wedding.

Did your muse cry at the wedding?

No. There was only happiness that day.

Did your muse get drunk at the reception?

I’m sure they drank a little when they celebrated later.

Aside from being married to their love, what would your muse say was the best part of the wedding?

Making the decision because they wanted to, not because the Capitol did.

Sex:

What does your muse fantasize about?

Being on top. Even though it’s one of their go to positions, it never gets old. At first, she had been concerned with how much of her body he was seeing. The Rebellion hadn’t exactly left her looking beautiful, but seeing the way he reacts underneath her completely changed her mind.

Who is more dominant in bed?

Katniss.

Who initiates sex?

It’s pretty equal. It just depends on who’s more in the mood.

How often are they having sex? (1 as never touching themselves or others and 10 being humping on the couch right now)

6 or 7. They didn’t waste any time getting to know each other’s bodies after their first time. It did become more difficult to get time alone once they had kids, however, but they made it work.

How kinky are they? (1 being vanilla with the lights off and 10 meaning they have a sex dungeon in their basement)

I’d put them at a 4 or 5. There are obviously certain lines they won’t cross, both out of safety and preference, but that doesn’t mean they’re opposed to trying new things. Their sex started out vanilla, but once they were comfortable and figured everything out for themselves, they started exploring different positions and places.

Do they fuck, have sex, or make love?

Make love.

Is it important that both people orgasm?

Katniss wasn’t even aware she could have one until it actually happened. After she got over the shock and confusion, though, she welcomed the feeling. It was never something she had to ask for again either. Both of them know what the other likes.

Which time was the best according to your muse?

The first time they did it in the bakery. Something about it being risky and wrong made it ten times more exciting.

Which time was the worst according to your muse?

Their first time. Katniss would never call it bad, just awkward. Neither of them had any experience, and it was difficult figuring out how their bodies fit together at first.

What’s something your muse wants but is too afraid/embarrassed to ask for?

It was never really about being scared to ask so much as it was about not knowing what to ask. Her knowledge of sex and even her own body was very limited, so sex was a learning process. Letting go of her pride was difficult, but Peeta is by far one of the most understanding partners anyone could have. That alone eliminated a lot of embarrassment.

Marriage:

How often do they cuddle?

Often. She’s always enjoyed being in his arms.

Who does the most housework?

Peeta.

Who cooks?

Peeta. Katniss is better at catching their dinner than she is at cooking it.

Who does the grocery shopping?

Peeta gets things like produce and other essentials, but Katniss hunts and trades for their meat.

Who cleans?

Peeta. Katniss helps, but sometimes she ends up making more of a mess than there was before.

Do they own any pets?

No. They probably got Sage a bunny, but she always kept it in her room.

Have often do they have date nights together?

Whenever they’re in the mood or have the time.

Who is better with the money?

They have too much of it, but always try to put it towards the right things.

Who decorates the house for the holidays?

Peeta. Katniss likes seeing the decorations, but Peeta has more of an eye for that kind of thing.

Who invites guests over?

Peeta again. Katniss likes having their friends over, but he’s more likely to reach out.

Who is more likely to do the handiwork (fixing the sink, mowing the lawn)?

It’s shared. Katniss is much better at handiwork than homemaking, but Peeta is stronger and taller than she is. He gets some of the bigger tasks. 

Children:

Who wants children first?

Peeta. Guess who won that battle.

How does the idea of babies come up?

He catches major baby fever after Eli is born and brings up the idea of them having a baby.

Do they have children naturally or use IVF/adopt?

Naturally, but I’m sure they’ve fostered children from his program, too.

How does your muse react to the pregnancy/being pregnant?

She’s absolutely terrified, even more so when she finds out that their first is going to be a girl. Once Sage was born, though, she wasn’t as scared. Eventually, she embraced being a mother. 

How many children do they have?

Three. Two kids, and one Reidtard. 

Who gets stuck on diaper duty?

It’s shared, but Peeta’s more attentive at night than she is. She just never wants to leave the bed.

Who is the stricter parent?

Peeta. He’s not exactly strict, but he’s always on the lookout for “teachable moments”. All of the kids have had to sit through his famous talks.

Who is the fun parent?

Katniss, but only because she usually lets them go with a warning and the classic “just don’t say it in front of your dad” line. 

Who spends the most time with the kid(s)?

It’s equal. Katniss is home a little more often than Peeta, but he always makes time for the kids.

Who remembers to pack lunches, sign permission slips, and go to conferences at school?

Peeta. He’s much more thoughtful when it comes to stuff like that and will even slip little notes into their lunches. Katniss goes to conferences, but he’s much better at talking to their teachers than she is. 

Who helps with homework?

They both do their best, but neither of them got the chance to finish high school. Sometimes the questions leave them stumped, too. 

Misc:

Who takes longer showers/baths?

Peeta. Katniss doesn’t have to worry about removing a limb every time she wants to bathe. 

Who is most likely to sleep until noon?

Katniss. 

Who plays the pranks?

They both do. Katniss is better at being sneaky, because she can always hear him coming when he tries, but he’s a fantastic liar. He’s better at tricking her that way. 

Who surprises who with flowers/gifts/cards etc.?

Peeta.

Who remembers all of the important dates and who is rushing out last minute to by a present?

Peeta always remembers. Katniss tries and succeeds most of the time, but some things just slip her mind.

Who works?

Peeta.

Who stays home?

Katniss.

Is your muse happy with their partner?

Happier than she ever thought possible.

If they could change one thing about their relationship or partner, what would it be?

Peeta still struggles and has the rare episode. Sometimes Katniss wishes she could do more or magically make him better, because seeing him in pain is still easily one of the worst feelings ever. Despite the lasting effects of the Games, though, they’re always there to take care of each other.

[everlark-your-own-adventure]

Powder Keg - Ch 7

Welcome back to the adventure we’re all everlarking together! Fallen behind in the story? Here are the previous chapters: 

Chapter 1 /// Chapter 2 /// Chapter 3 /// Chapter 4 /// Chapter 5 /// Chapter 6

Last week found our darlings rescued from old Hans cave and Katniss transported for medical care. More revelations ensued, and you, everlarkers, voted for her to accept Peeta’s offer to rebuild their friendship on a foundation of honesty and trust.

This week, the lovely and talented @notanislander continues our adventure.  As always, you have 48 hours to vote, until noon, Wednesday, December the 20th. Remember, vote in the comments or reblogs, not in the tags! And as always, share with your friends, more voices = more fun! Ready? Here we go… grab your favourite warm beverage and settle in for our weekly trip to Mt. Mockingjay…

Trust. It's something that doesn't come easily to me. When my father died, my mother went into a severe depression, something she struggles with to this day. In my head, I know she is doing the best she can, but in my heart, I am still that ten- or eleven-year-old girl wishing her mother would talk to her, even look at her.

It’s something I didn’t have with Peeta three years ago. If I had trusted him, I might have given him a chance to explain the situation. I might have stopped to listen when he told me about Bristel’s brother. But I didn’t. I did what I always do - I ran. I thought it was easier to keep my heart locked up tight and I almost convinced myself of that too. Right up until the cave. That’s when I realized something. My life has been a shadow since I walked away from Peeta three years ago. Sure I had Prim, and I had Gale, but what else did I have? A life? No. A future to look forward to? No. I just existed.

I’m sentenced to a week of “bed rest” by both my mother and the Emergency Room doctor. Peeta behaves so nicely. Every morning, he stops by our house on his way to the ski lodge with fresh baked cheese buns in hand. I’m surprised he remembers how much I love them, and they taste just as good as ever.

He carries me downstairs everyday, but never stays too long since he needs to get to work. He comes by in the evenings too, freshly showered and so happy to help my mother out with any small thing. He even helps Prim with her English term paper on To Kill a Mockingbird. And he always saves time to just talk with me. Sometimes he’ll bring his sketchbook over and we’ll sit quietly while he makes sketches of the resort, my house, trees, whatever he’s thinking about. “It helps calm me down after a full day at the lodge,” he tells me. “I like people, but sometimes it gets a bit much, you know? So this helps refocus me.” We might even watch a movie on Netflix, and then, just before he heads home, he carries me up to my room.

By the end of the week, I’m going stir-crazy. I need to get out, start making money again. No matter how my mother argues, I know we need the money and being off for a week just before the holidays certainly isn’t helping our situation, which was dire to begin with.

“Katniss, stop!” my mother chastises. “I have an interview at the drop-in clinic tomorrow. They need another nurse and I think this will be a good fit.” My mother’s eternal optimism is tempered only by my eternal pessimism, which were both brought about by her depression. I know full well what can happen if my mother gets too much bad news, so I am always prepared for the worst. Luckily, it seems Prim is oblivious to it all.

“Katniss,” she whispers later, when we are alone in our shared room, “This job is going to workout for mom. I really think it is.” It seems Prim has inherited the sunny side as well.

“I hope so little duck. Because missing this week without pay is not helping one bit.” I snap back; angry at myself, angry at the Lodge, angry at pretty much everyone.

Everyone, that is, except Peeta, which is both a change and a revelation to me all at once. I’ve been so angry with him for three years, that to not be angry now takes me aback. Why am I not angry at him? In some ways, my anger would be justified. I mean, he did distract me and cause me to fall. Didn’t he? Or did I imagine that? I’m not sure anymore. I’m not sure of a lot, to be honest.

Having barely survived the torturous week of bed rest, I am finally able to be back at the lodge. When Peeta heard I was going back to work, he insisted that he would pick me up every morning and drive me back home in the evenings. I told him he didn’t need to, that my mother could do it, but he just smiled and told me it was no problem. So I gave up and accepted his kindness. “Isn’t this nice? Just you and me in the truck? Kind of like old times!” he says with a smile.

“Yeah, old times,” I smile back, hoping he isn’t thinking of how those ‘old times’ ended up. I am hoping for a very different ending this time around.

I’ve almost come to accept the fact that I’ll be working in the snack bar all winter to make up for the lost wages I was getting as a ski instructor. I wasn’t a great instructor, but at least I was earning something more than minimum wage. I am trying really hard to not feel sorry for myself right now, but it isn’t easy.

I look out the window and watch Peeta and Gale work with the group of elementary students, the very ones who caused me to sprain my knee in the first place. Their teacher, Madge, is flirting with Gale, which is intriguing because I thought she had a thing for Peeta. “Hmmm, watching from the window might not be such a bad thing altogether,” I say quietly to myself.

I’m lost in speculation when Johanna says from behind me, “What’s so interesting out there, Brainless?”

“Geez Jo!” I jump at her voice, and take a big breath to calm down. “Not much. Unless you count that teacher, Madge, who was flirting with Peeta, but now seems to have turned her attention full on to Gale.” I tell her, a bit of conspiracy in my tone.

“Oh really? Do tell?” Jo does love to have her own bit of gossip, especially when it involves instructors and clients. “She’s just his type too,” she says knowingly. “Look at him smile at her. I smell a bit of a romance blooming!”

We share a laugh at Gale’s expense, knowing full well that the look on Gale’s face means exactly what Jo is insinuating. He loves the attention he’s getting from Ms. Undersee as much as Ms. Undersee loves giving it.

It comes as no surprise then, that as the kids are getting back on the bus after their final lesson, I spy Gale tapping what I assume is his number into Madge’s phone. It does come as a surprise when I see Peeta laughing at Gale as the bus pulls away and they begin to make their way to the lodge. Gale good naturedly punches Peeta in the arm. When did these two become such good friends? A lot seems to have happened since I was off. Should I be worried? Somehow I think I should.

“Katniss!” Gale bellows, coming into the snack bar. “It’s good to see you up and about! Care for a race later on today?”

I look at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Oh, now you’re backing off,” he taunts. “How many times have you told me you could beat me skiing down the mountain, even if you had a broken leg? Now’s your chance to test that theory!”

Gale seems too happy. He and that Madge lady are definitely getting together. “Oh, I’d do it, but you’d lose and then you’d go home crying to your mommy. She’d call up my mom for picking on you, and then I’d get in trouble for skiing on this knee,” I tell him with a grin. “Or would you call up Ms. Undersee to complain instead?”

That gets him. He narrows his eyes at me and scowls, “Who told you?”

“Uh, uh, uh! A girl never reveals her sources. But tell me Gale, was Peeta jealous? Because she was flirting awfully hard with him until YOU came along!” I laugh.

“Hey Everdeen! Leave me out of this!” Peeta calls, stomping into the lodge and making his way to the snack counter. “I don’t know what you said, but I heard my name, and I know from that tone of voice it wasn’t anything good!”

The lodge patrons are taking in all of this good natured ribbing and I can see their smiles. It’s then I realize that people enjoy seeing and being a part of a team that genuinely like each other. I guess it really is contagious.

“Ms. Everdeen!” I look down to see Maggie, one of the younger children I taught before my accident. “May I have another hot chocolate? Here’s the money for it!”

“Sure, Miss Maggie,” I smile.

As I prepare her drink, she says, “I can’t wait until you’re back teaching skiing again. You were my favorite instructor! You never made me do the hard stuff until I was ready!”

I’m not sure how to respond to this. I look to Peeta, who is watching the entire exchange. He just smiles at me. The young girl’s mother comes up behind her and says, “We do miss you Katniss. You are the only instructor Maggie talks about,” and she hands me a $20 bill. “Keep the change, Katniss. You deserve it.” And she and Maggie walk away, leaving me with my mouth open.

“Better close your mouth before the flies get in,” Jo says to me. Then she heads back into the office, laughing all the way.

The days go by, and it seems like no time has passed when I have my three week follow-up appointment. Peeta offers to take me in, since my mother now has full-time work at the clinic. “I would take the time off,” she says, but Peeta interrupts her.

“It’s no problem for me, Mrs. Everdeen. I already have the day off, and Katniss and I would be spending it together anyway.”

Which is true. We do seem to spend everyday together. And most evenings too.

My mother concedes, and after Peeta goes home that night she makes sure to stop in my room. “Katniss, I really like that boy. I hope you do too, because I would hate to see both of you so heartbroken again.”

“I do like him, Mom,” I say with a shy smile. I don’t know if I’ve ever talked boys with my mother. I think I should feel awkward, but I am glad to have a chance to talk this whole thing through with someone. “But we’re just friends right now. We’re working on making our friendship stronger.”

“That’s good dear, but I can tell by the way he looks at you that he thinks of you as much more than that.” I blush at this, but don’t interrupt her. “Don’t waste your life waiting for me and Prim, OK? Take a chance on love. I may not be the best example, but it really is worth it. I wouldn’t trade the years I had with your father for anything. Please think about this,” she advises me. And I do.

I fall asleep to thoughts of Peeta - not Peeta my friend, but Peeta my lover. I have pushed these types of ideas out of my mind for three years. Now, I am openly inviting them in again. And just like that, it hits me. I love Peeta Mellark. I love him. He’s coming to pick me up to take me to the doctor tomorrow, and I am pretty sure the doctor is going to give me a clean bill of health. Which means I can drive my own car again. I won’t be as shut in as I was. Peeta won’t need to stop by and see me anymore. He won’t have an excuse. I’ll be driving myself to and from Mt. Mockingjay every day.

So what do I do? Do I take that risk to tell Peeta my feelings? Or do I hold them in, hoping he speaks first? What if my mother is wrong? What if he doesn’t feel the same way about me? Or what if he does, but thinks I don’t, so he stops coming by or stopping to see me? Do I tell him or not? What do I do?

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday alliswell21!

Firstly, we want to apologize to @alliswell21 for the delay of her gift. We hope you had a lovely birthday on the 21st of October! To ad further cheer to your day, the wonderful @wildlyglittering has written a special Everlark fic just for you! We hope you enjoy it :)

Title: Into the Woods

Gift for: alliswell21

 Rating: M

 Trigger warnings: swearing, sexual situations

 Author’s note: I’m so sorry for the delay. I am an incredibly slow writer. Please slap my wrists for this one.

“Is that a Pumpkin Spice Latte,” murmured the voice, honeyed and low, in my ear, “or are you drinking the blood of your enemies?”

               “Ugh,” I made a sound of disgust and shrugged away from him, making sure my shoulder collided with his jaw as I moved. Great, I thought. Golden-douche is here. One hour without him was all I wanted today, just one solid hour. 

               He moved around the table to sit opposite me, completely uninvited, not that he cared, and began removing his coat. When I knew he couldn’t see I took a glance down his body and noticed that water had splashed his trousers and the coat that was now hanging on the back of his chair held a thick, woollen scent. He’d obviously been caught in the rain. I felt a sliver of mean spirited joy but hid my smile behind my mug as a I took a sip.

               “Not looking so dry, Peeta,” I said. “Did your face collide directly with a rain cloud?”

               As he sat he shook out his hair, water droplets bouncing onto the table, he grinned at me, unbothered by my comment. His arrogance probably meant he thought he still looked good. I took another quick glance, this time at his face and noted that, unfairly, he didn’t look too bad. His golden-douche hair had been turned a darker shade by the rain and his usual loose waves had begun to curl more around his ears.

               A drip on one of those newly darkened strands dripped onto the side of his face and travelled down to his jaw before he reached up to wipe it away. My brain told my eyes to stop looking.

               “Yes,” was all he said, “I suppose it’s a little wet out there.”

               My eyebrows went up. It was one of the rainiest afternoons that our District had on record and he had ventured outside in it. Peeta gave a nonchalant shrug and looked over at me and I noted how his eyes glanced down, very briefly, to my mouth as I took another sip.

               “So, Katniss, what are we doing?” This time his eyes met mine, his obnoxiously blue ones shining and I fought the urge to roll my own. On second thoughts, there were no prizes for restraint.

               “We, are doing nothing. I, am having a coffee and reading my emails. You, are interrupting me.”

               “Is that the one from Haymitch?” Before I had the chance to reply, Peeta had reached over and grabbed the paper placed in front of me. When he first found out that I liked to print out my emails and colour code the relevant text he had mocked me for days. Now though it seemed like they were useful.

               I protested at the intrusion, “Hey! I was reading that!”

               “Sorry,” he replied but didn’t seem anything of the sort. He was reading his way through the print-out and about a third of the way down he began to chew on his lip, worrying the flesh with his white teeth. That was... interesting. Peeta never showed anything other than relaxed cockiness. He must have gotten to that paragraph. The one that I’d highlighted in red which meant ‘panic.’

“Yeah,” he said. “It was shit the first time I read it and it’s still shit now.” He sighed and sat back, running a hand through his hair. Some more errant drops of water slid down his neck, trailing down the pale skin.

I snatched back the paper, the words swimming out at me, black on white. The key ones burned into my eyeballs, ‘two dumbasses,’ ‘professionalism,’ ‘working relationship,’ and worst of all, ‘off the project.’

Though I had anxiety digging a hole in stomach I wasn’t expecting Peeta to be worried so his concern came as a surprise. We’d both been sat in the downtown office when the email came through. I’d known that Haymitch was irritated and it was all down to the fairy woods set. Or more to the point, the disagreement we’d had on the set.

I knew there would be a rebuke but the email stated, in no uncertain terms, that if Peeta and I couldn’t find a way to work together then we’d both be off the project.

When I read it all I wanted to do was run, so I printed off the email, grabbed my bag and announced that I was heading to Sae’s Café. One look at Peeta’s face behind his desk gave nothing away. His calm stuck in my throat and I stormed off, the clouds matching my mood, but I made sure to grab his umbrella beside his desk before I left.

I took in Peeta’s face again and now saw the furrowing of his forehead and the way his lips drew down. I found myself saying, “I didn’t think you’d care about being off the project.”

His face smoothed itself back into a careful neutrality. “I happen,” he stated, “to love this project.” I snorted and his eyebrows shot up. “Why is that so funny exactly?”

“Well you say you love it yet you were planning on butchering it with your designs.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Why couldn’t you just let me lead on the woods? Everyone knows that’s my area! You were deliberately sabotaging my idea and...”

“Sabotaging!” he interrupted. “Like hell I was!” He leant forward, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “You are the best outdoor set designer, I’ll give you that, and you have an excellent eye for realism but dammit Katniss you are so goddamn stubborn! You won’t admit when you’re out of your depth and you were with this set. Frankly, you fail at anything imaginative!”

I tried to ignore the sting that came with his words. “It’s a wood.”

“It. Is. A. Fucking. Fairy. Wood.”

Here we were again. Glaring at each other and re-hashing the argument that got us into this situation in the first place. My fingers itched and I curled them into my palms. I fought the urge to stand up, grab my bag and storm off. Again.

The disdain had been simmering along at a level that we had managed to ignore but the recent argument had boiled everything over. I knew there was no return to before, if we didn’t try and resolve this we both had something to lose. It seemed that Peeta reached the same conclusion at the same time, and I watched as he rubbed a hand over his face.      

It was as though he had wiped away his frustration and I saw his face lose its hardness. “Listen,” he looked tired. “I suggest that we try and put these issues aside and find a way to work together. Hell, we’ll get Haymitch to mediate if needed.”

I pulled a face at that but thought of the email again, ‘off the project,’ floating around in the pool of my memory. I swallowed any bitter response down and nodded. That seemed to buoy Peeta and he continued talking, “We’ll apologise to Haymitch, profusely, bash out the project and then we can hate-fuck it out to celebrate. Agreed?”

“Excuse me?” My voice came out like a hiss even though a weird little thrill travelled through me. “What the actual fuck?”

The goddam shine was back in his eyes. Whatever apprehension he’d experiences had evaporated like water and he was clearly getting one last goad in. Well fine, I would bite.

“No,” I ground out. “We’ll work on this project, which by the way is based on my original design, and then you can go hate-fuck yourself and cry about it afterwards. Agreed?”

He flashed me a grin. “Well, that just doesn’t sound as fun.”

 ****

 By the time I arrived the set was a hustle of activity. I waved a hello at Rue, possibly the sweetest set runner I had ever met, and then made my way over to where I could see Haymitch and Peeta standing. It didn’t particularly look like a conversation I wanted to join with Haymitch gesticulating at something above their heads whilst Peeta frowned, hands resting on his hips.

               It looked like Peeta had been running his hands through his hair, strands of blonde waves were sticking up all over the place. But then, that’s probably exactly what he had been doing. In the three weeks since Haymitch sent his email, and after the individual chew out’s we’d received, we’d made a point to cooperate and if that meant working closer together then so be it.

               The constant contact meant I was beginning to pick up on a few of Peeta’s ‘tells.’ He was one of the calmest people I had ever met but there was an undercurrent of frustration that occasionally ran through him. This frustration, which I’d once thought was solely because of me, was based on greater things, including his never-ending sense of perfectionism. In a way I was disappointed, I didn’t know why but the idea of it being me that was getting under his skin was slightly enticing.

               Haymitch saw me approach. “About time, sweetheart,” he grumbled. “Where the hell have you been?”

               I shot him a look that hopefully conveyed exactly what I thought about that nickname. “I was dealing with Glimmer.” The ridiculously named, blonde and beautiful art director who I had to have yet another meeting with.

               “There was a meeting with cotton-for-brains and you were the one that went?” Haymitch looked incredulous. “Why the hell didn’t the boy go?”

               Out of the corner of my eye I saw Peeta frown harder, clearly just as enthused about his nickname as I was mine. Despite us getting on better I couldn’t help but squeeze a small dig in. “Because, the boy didn’t want to go.”

               Peeta stepped forward towards me. “Hey, I’d appreciate the demeaning nicknames be kept to an absolute zero, sweetheart.” He held no humour in his voice and when he met my eyes head on there was no jest there either.

               Fine. I would play. I opened my mouth to retort but Haymitch jumped in first, throwing his hands up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, are we fucking back to this?” He looked between us. “Do not start this again because I swear to god if you do, I will smack your heads together faster than you can say ‘over fucking budget.’”

               “You,” he pointed at Peeta, “sort out the damn trees, do it cheap, and do it now. And you,” he turned to me, jabbing a nail bitten finger my way, “do not piss Glimmer off, she’s already gunning for us for some goddamned reason and having you turn up to make good is not exactly what I would call a plan.” With a final piercing look at us both he said, “Don’t fuck this up.” I watched his back as he went.

                “Well, that was rude.”

               I turned to face Peeta. The little muscle was going in his jaw and his eyes flashed with irritation but, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone and then he was sighing and running a hand over his face. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. This project was bigger than we both originally thought and he was taking the lead on a difficult set. His blue eyes were puffy and his broad shoulders seemed to sag. The urge that I would have once had to comment on his stressed appearance was no longer there. Instead, I found myself asking, “Are you ok?”

               Peeta looked at me, eyebrows raised and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. Why did he look so surprised? Was it unusual to ask how someone was feeling? Was it that unusual for it to be me that sked how someone was feeling. For a moment I thought he would make an acrid remark and prepared myself, feeling somehow sad that he would. But he just glanced at me, thoughtful eyes swept over my face, lingered on my pink cheeks without comment before falling to look at my lips. He quickly glanced away.

               “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Haymitch is just being... Haymitch.” He let out a little laugh. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

               “He’s a pill when he’s like this. I think I preferred it when he was drinking.”

               I saw Peeta’s eyebrows stretch up to his hairline even more. “You did not just say that.”

               “Didn’t I?” I said, feigning innocence.

               A slow, wicked grin crept onto his face. “Katniss Everdeen, such unexpected sass.” He winked at me, “I think I like it.”

               The blush that was on my cheeks burned again and the flush bloomed down my neck. You are, I thought to myself, a grown woman. Get a grip. It wouldn’t do blushing like a virgin schoolgirl and it wouldn’t do to start flirting with Peeta.

               “Yeah well,” I replied with an eye roll, “try not to.” I waved my hand towards the set, ignoring the fact that he was still looking at me and smiling. “Don’t you have to go fix some trees?”

               “I thought you were the forest expert?”

               “It’s a fairy wood, aren’t you the expert at things that aren’t real? Don’t be such a golden-douche.” It slipped out before I meant it to but my tone held no bite. I looked over at him from the corner of my eye only to see his shoulders shaking in laughter.

               “Golden-douche?”

               “Yeah,” I shrugged. “On account of your hair and your general douchebaggery.”

               “Oh... I see.” His wicked grin grew lazy and spread wider on his stupid, handsome face. “You refer to my hair as ‘golden’ huh? What do you refer to my eyes? Azure? Cerulean? How about... Sapphire?”

“And there is that general douchebaggery I was referring to.”

“Ah, Katniss,” he replied. “That hate-fuck is beginning to look more like begrudge-fuck.”

I flipped him the bird. “Go begrudge-fuck yourself,” and then I walked off, the sound of his laughter ringing like a bell in my ears.

****

 If there was anything I hated, it was being wrong.

               Months ago, I’d been sat in Haymitch’s office, pouring over the designs for the set we all hated. The fairy woods. It needed to be grandiose, it needed to be ethereal and it needed to be done on budget.

               “Katniss,” Haymitch had said to me. “There is no one here that can compare with you when it comes to nature designs, but...” and he seemed hesitant for the first time I had known him.

               “But, what?”

               “They’re dull.”

               “Dull? What the hell does that mean?!”

               He’d told me that I had a great eye for realism but fantasy elements and outside the box thinking weren’t my strengths and so they were bringing in someone from one of the other teams to work with me. That was where it had all started, Katniss Everdeen and her wounded pride.

               Receiving criticism was not my strength. Nor was giving praise. It had bothered me that we needed Peeta’s more imaginative eye but what bothered me more was that he deserved praise I had to yet to give. Not that he would have cared about what I thought, I’m sure.

               The set was nearly completed and I still hadn’t said anything. Every time we were on set I was awed at what we’d managed to achieve. The trees somehow stretched into an endless colour changing sky, the lichen on the trees glowed a deep, molten silver and gold seemed to pour out from beneath the tree bark.

               I wondered if my face took on the enthusiasm and delight of a child when I looked at it all, because that’s what I felt inside. Still, when I thought Peeta was looking I attempted chilled neutrality. It seemed that I had to do that a lot lately, attempt chilled neutrality, as I swore he was looking at me an awful lot more. Problem is, I only knew this because I was doing an awful lot of looking back.

               We’d found a strange balance along the way and as long as nothing threw off the equilibrium we would be fine. Absolutely fine. Which is why I surprised myself by doing just that.

                               The laughter I could hear across the set wasn’t Peeta’s usual booming one but was light, giggly and sounded flirty. There, deep within the woods, past a few of the silvery trees, stood Peeta and Glimmer side by side. A thought came to my mind to turn around and leave them alone, it is never a good idea to go into the woods, it only leads to disaster. But I shook the thought out, these weren’t real woods and it was only Peeta.

               I affected a look of disinterest as I approached them. “Hey,” I said.

               They both stopped talking and watched as I stepped over fake roots. Glimmer’s face slipped from pleased to pissed while the smile lines around Peeta’s eyes deepened.

               I held out the takeout cup to him, “I got you a coffee.” I made sure he could see where Sae had written ‘golden-douche’ on it. He took it with a grin and a wink and for a moment by stomach pitched downwards. “Sorry Glimmer,” I said to her, not at all sorry. “I didn’t know you were here.”

               Glimmer’s pretty pink mouth turned upwards into a saccharine, and completely fake, smile. “Not at all,” she waved a hand at me. “I was just coming to see how my favourite set designer was doing with my favourite set.”

She turned, smiling at Peeta and gave his bare arm a squeeze. I caught how her fingers trailed lightly on his skin and clutched my own coffee a bit tighter. “Katniss, I was just telling Peeta how amazing his design is and what a talent he is. Don’t you think?”

I gave a grumble behind my hot beverage barrier that sounded like an agreement.

“Well, I just added some bits to Katniss’ original design,” I heard Peeta say. “I added the fantastical elements, but if it wasn’t for her base we wouldn’t have had much of a set to work on.” His comment surprised me and I looked over to see him watching me. I offered up a small, appreciative smile and he surprised me further by offering a small - but warm - one back.

“But it’s the fantastical elements that really make it come alive,” Glimmer continued. “If we wanted normal woods we wouldn’t have needed to bring you in.” She waved a hand around the set again. “This is so much more effort than normal, boring woods, don’t you think?”

I seethed behind my coffee, steam either coming from the hot liquid or my ears. My usual conversations with her were like this, barbed comments aiming for the jugular but hidden underneath a sugary sweet tone. This was the first time that she had tried to embarrass me in front of someone, and it was Peeta no less. For some reason that made it worse.

“Glim,” I heard Peeta say, his voice low but not honeyed. “I think you should be more respectful of Katniss’ work.” I looked up and saw the smile melt off her face.

“It takes an incredible amount of effort and an observant eye to replicate reality and get it spot on. I mean, have you seen the tree bark?” Peeta gestured out to the tree next to where he was standing. “Do you know the amount of time it takes to get the texture correct? Or the colours? It’s not just brown you’re looking at, it’s the right shade of brown, and the green and silver and red.”

Glimmer’s mouth drew itself into a straight line. “Sorry Peeta, I didn’t realise that you felt that strongly about.... trees,” she looked over at me. “I have to go. I was only passing to say congratulations on a job well done. To you both.”

We watched her retreat and I let out a sigh. “You didn’t need to say all that you know. I’m a big girl. I can cope with her petty little knock-backs.”

Peeta shrugged and didn’t look at me. “Well, it was bothering me. You did just as good a job so she didn’t need to be like that.”

We stood there on the set, in the middle of the woods, in silence. Guilt started to gnaw away at me. If he could be complimentary about my work why couldn’t I just swallow my pride and say ‘well done Peeta, it looks beautiful.’ This was the moment if there ever was one. But I couldn’t. My mouth stayed shut until I decided to go ahead and ruin the balance we had earned.

“I know she didn’t but you didn’t need to defend me. I know my work is good and I don’t need you to tell her it is, it should speak for itself.”

Peeta’s mouth pursed and he spoke slowly, as though I was a child. “It does... speak for itself but I just wanted to point out the obvious to her. I think she is a little... biased and it doesn’t hurt to have someone on side.”

“I don’t need you on side.”

His eyes slid over to me and narrowed, the shining blue darkening. “What exactly,” his voice dangerously low, “is your problem here?”

I didn’t know. I didn’t know if it was because I had busted my ass on this project before Peeta turned up and he was now being hailed as some wonder boy, I didn’t know if it was because no one apart from Peeta had praised my actual contribution to the design and I was pathetically jealous and insecure. I didn’t know if it was because Peeta had called Glimmer ‘Glim’ and that she had trailed her fingers all over his skin. I didn’t know if it was because he seemed comfortable in letting her.

“She rode me hard for weeks,” was all I said. “All she did was bust me for the overspend, the design quality, how long it was taking to get the damn thing done and here she is singing your praises like I had nothing to do with anything.” I shook my head and went for the throat. “She rode me hard but honestly from the way she was panting at you I could wonder if you had been doing the same to her.”

It was a nasty comment, not meant to mean anything apart from cause hurt. I expected Peeta to protest in angry indignation and fight back. Except... he didn’t. I looked up sharply at his silence and felt a tremble of something in my stomach.

His eyes remained dark and angry and were boring into my face but his cheeks had gone a faint pink, the tips of his ears too. I watched his throat as he swallowed, the Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Oh,” I said. It came out soft. “Right.”

“Katniss...”

“No, I’m sorry I said anything.” I looked at the ground, at the fake grass, covered in fake leaves. “It’s not my business who you have relationships with.”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“Or who you’re fucking.” I cringed as I said it.

“We’re not fucking.” He sighed, “Katniss...”

The ethereal beauty of the set now just seemed fake. All those pretty silvers and golds were just grey and yellow. The coffee tasted like mud and whatever I had with Peeta was...nothing. That was where I had gone wrong. For some reason I’d thought the growing joviality between us, the looks, the smiles, had meant more than it did. That was my fault, not his.

“I’ve got to go,” I told him. “I’m sure Haymitch wanted to have a progress update.”

Without waiting for a response from him, I walked off.

The project was almost completed, ‘we can hate-fuck it out to celebrate,’ Peeta had once said about when it was all over. At the time I’d been both angry and thrilled. Not that I wanted to hate-fuck it out at all, but if I was being honest with myself there was obviously something there that appealed to me.

I chucked my half-full coffee into the trash as I exited the studio and rolled my eyes at myself, feeling stupid. If there was anything, I said to myself, it would have been a pity-fuck. A sad, Katniss can’t get the job right, pity-fuck. I went straight home.

 ***

  It was late and I was cursing myself. Haymitch had called telling me there were problems with the meadow set and that ‘I get my ass down there first thing tomorrow morning and sort it out.’ My charming boss with his charming way with words.

               I’d rolled my eyes, confirmed I would, hung up on him and tried to enjoy the rest of my evening doing nothing at home. It was half an hour later that a sinking feeling hit my stomach. Shit, I thought. My binder wasn’t here. Racking my brains, I realised I’d left it at the last place I’d been, in the studio at the woods set.

I groaned. The meadow set was in a completely different studio halfway across the district. Trying to get from one place to the other in the morning would be impossible with the traffic. Haymitch would kill me if I wasn’t there on time but without that binder he would kill me anyway because I couldn’t fix anything without knowing what I was supposed to be fixing.

               I had one option and that was to collect the binder now. I shoved on some leggings and pulled an old sweater over my camisole thanking my stars I had the code to the building. If I was quick I could make it back in time to watch my programme before it started which was the sole highlight of my evening.

               When I arrived the night security guard recognised me and waved me in. “Busy night tonight,” he told me. “Only two of you but still, that’s busy for this time of night.”

               I frowned wondering who else was at the studio at this time of night and got my answer as soon as I pulled into a parking space. Two spaces down sat Peeta’s car. Great. I debated not going in but knew that was ridiculous. What was the point of driving all the way here to turn back empty handed? If I was lucky I could get in and out without him seeing me and if he did, well I was an adult. I was sure I could be civil.

               I wandered in, feeling nervous. I didn’t want to bump into him but then, some part of me did. We’d had that awful conversation on set three weeks ago and since then we’d gone back to playing the avoidance game. Well, I had. Peeta seemed to keep trying to talk to me but I always had a good excuse to get away.

               The studio wasn’t lit up fully but enough so that someone could make their way around the set and I wondered why Peeta was here. On the table to the side I could see my binder, all I needed to do was pick it up and leave. No one, aside from the security guard, would know I had been here. And then, for some inexplicable reason, I cleared my throat. Loudly.

               “Hello?” I heard Peeta’s voice from the set and his loud footsteps as they walked towards me. “Who’s... Katniss?”

               I turned to face him, noting his confused expression. “What are you doing here?”

               “I forgot my binder.” I picked it up and waggled it. “I need it for tomorrow, problem with the meadow set, so....”

               “Right,” he nodded. We stood opposite each other in silence.

               “What are you doing here? It’s a bit late.”

               Peeta sighed. “I honestly hate this set. I got a call from Haymitch telling me that some water damage had happened to some of the trees. God knows how, and now I’m just trying to get it sorted.”

               “This late?”

               He shrugged. “I had nothing better to do.”

               It was on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘what, not ‘Glim?’ but that was cold and unfair and completely borne from a place of my own jealously.

               “Do you want help?” My brain cursed at me.

               He seemed surprised but not unhappy and he let out a breath. “If you don’t mind?”

               “Sure.”

               We walked to the damage and I saw that some bark had begun to peel. I laughed and touched it, “It’s not at all funny but it looks just like real bark, except it’s sodden.”

               Peeta sighed again. “My wood got wet.”

               I gasped and looked over to him, “Peeta!”

               “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Completely inappropriate,” but there was a small twinkle in his eyes that told me he wasn’t that sorry.

               “We could get some heaters to dry it out,” I said, turning back to the tree and choosing to ignore him, “but if we don’t know where the leak is coming from then it wouldn’t...”

               “Katniss.” He said my name with determination but I could detect a slight tremor. “I’m sorry.”

               I paused. I didn’t understand why he was apologising to me, I wasn’t too sure what he had done wrong, not really. I turned back to him. His eyes implored me to hear him out, his palms outstretched in a calming manner. “Why are you sorry?” I asked.

               “Because I think somewhere along the way I’ve screwed something up.”

               I looked down at the ground. “No, you haven’t. I just...,” I paused, not too sure how to continue. “It’s none of my business about you and Glimmer, really it isn’t.”

               “I’m not seeing her,” he said. “And I’m not sleeping with her. I have slept with her, months ago. A couple of times. There’s nothing I can do about that, it’s happened. I just don’t want you thinking that’s why I ended up on this job, that I slept my way into it. I was already on the job when Glimmer and I hooked up.”

               His statement did funny things to my stomach but it just added onto the guilt that I was already feeling. It wasn’t his fault I was a pathetic mess.

               “Peeta, shut up.”

               “Excuse me?” He laughed a little disbelievingly. “I’m apologising and you’re telling me to shut up?”

               “Yes, exactly!”

               “This is going well...”

               I shook my head. “I mean... you don’t need to apologise. I should be apologising to you.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t think you slept your way into this job, I mean, look at your design,” I gestured around us, “it’s quite obvious that you’re here because of your talent. I was jealous.”

               “Of my talent?”

               “No.” I took another deep breath. “Of Glimmer, actually.”

               It took a moment and then his face changed, confusion blended into understanding and then a soft, warm smile appeared on his face. “Oh, I see.”

               “This whole conversation is embarrassing me. I know I said I was going to help but I think I might just take my binder and go home.”

               “You know,” his voice was low and honeyed and wonderful as he stepped towards me, “I had a lot of inspiration to draw on when designing this place. An artist takes inspiration from everything.”

               I snorted, “Right, like what?”

               “Well, the gold from the trees is inspired by my hair,” he shook his head as he came closer, the blonde waves bouncing. “Obviously.”

               “Obviously, I see we’re back to being golden-douche.”

               “But hearing you talk about the woods you knew as a child really helped draw out my creative side.” He stood in front of me now and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. It lingered for a while as his eyes bore into mine before a fingertip trailed down my neck and onto my collar bone.

“And the silver in the trees? Well, that’s pretty special too.” His fingertip ran a pathway across my skin, tracing the bone and I shivered.

“That tickles,” I said. “But go on.”

He smiled and leant in, his broad shoulders stretched out in front of me, his blue eyes dark and delicious. The pupils were fat and black, squeezing out the colour. Peeta’s mouth was inches away from mine and all I needed to do was stand on my tiptoes and then our lips would meet.

“That particular shade was inspired by the eyes of someone who spent most of their days glaring at me.”

“I didn’t glare!”

“Who says I’m talking about you?” But he was grinning and his hands were now cupping my face, tilting it upwards to meet his. My hands dropped the binder I had been holding and I brought them up to grasp at his shirt. His chest was warm and hard beneath my palms and I clenched the material in my fingers. It was slow, how we were moving, and I just wanted to grab him and wrench him downwards.

“Peeta,” I whispered.

“Uhuh?”

“This isn’t going to be a pity kiss, is it?”

His nose was tracing a path on my temple. A slow kiss was pressed against my cheekbone. “Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

His nose skimmed across the bridge of mine to my other cheek where another kiss was planted. “Yes.”

I could hear his breathing deepen, as though being so close to me was exciting him. His body burned beneath my hands and I just wanted to slide my palms under his shirt and let them explore his skin. The thumbs that rested on either side of my face gently rubbed back and forth and it was almost ridiculous. Two adults standing in the middle of a fake fairy wood, almost kissing, but not quite. My stomach had changed its mission and swooped low in anticipation. The guilt and the jealously had long dissipated and all I wanted to do was press his hard body against mine and indulge in... something.

“Peeta?”

“Uhuh?” There was a smile on his face and I could feel it pressed against my ear.

“Didn’t you promise me a hate-fuck?”

He pulled back and I saw the shock on his face. My hands trailed down his shirt to his hips and I looped my fingers in his belt, pulling his body close to mine. My pelvis pressed against his and I slipped my hands to his backside to pull him even closer. I was being more forward than I ever had in my life. I didn’t know where this side of me had come from but I wasn’t too worried about stopping.

“I’m not going to hate-fuck you, Katniss.”

My heart dropped. It was probably for the best, we had no established relationship, we didn’t know what we were and besides, we weren’t anywhere remotely suitable. Just as I was about to pull away, Peeta’s hands left my face and skimmed down my neck, past my shoulders and down to my lower back. “That’s not to say I won’t fuck you,” he murmured.

My eyes widened as his hands slid down to my ass and pushed me in tighter to his groin. I gasped as I felt his hardness press against my pelvis and then he was bridging the gap and leaning forward to catch my lips with his own.

His were soft but insistent and they slanted over mine, pulling and sucking my lower lip between his, nibbling gently with his teeth. I groaned and shifted, tugging his hips further towards me and undulating mine against his. We pressed together and released and pressed together again, more urgent this time. His breathing grew harsher.

I pulled my mouth away, but not far. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We probably shouldn’t.” But then he was capturing my mouth again, his tongue sliding against mine, our hips flexing and pushing. I could feel his erection straining against the fly of his jeans which pressed against the thin material of my leggings. He was so hot, so hard and my heart thundered in my chest. Our hips sped up, crashing against each other and I relinquished the hold I had to do what I wanted, slide my hands under his shirt to press against his flesh.

Peeta’s hands reminded on my ass and I let him drive me into him over and over as I felt the heat of his skin on my palms. I smoothed them over his stomach and towards his back and he made a low, male sound that made my stomach swoop. His tongue left my mouth and he bent his head lower, trailing across my throat as I tipped it back, trying to breath more air into my lungs.

He smelt of Peeta and it was intoxicating. Forget air, all I wanted to do was breath him into my lungs. I whined and sunk my nails into his bare sides, hearing him grunt against the dip in my throat. “Peeta,” I said again. “We’re on set.”

He pulled back, eyes so dark they were almost black and his lips were deliciously swollen. “Do you want to stop?” he asked, but his tone made it sound as though it was the most painful question ever. Which it was.

“No, but we can’t take our time.” I glanced around quickly, worried that the security guard would come check on us at any moment.

Peeta licked his lips, my saliva clinging to them and he nodded. “Ok, so hard and fast it is.”

I made a noise, something close to a whimper and he lifted me from the ground, my legs wrapping around his waist. Our lips met again, whilst our hips met with hard and fast presses. There was no time for tenderness, not now. Peeta walked us backwards and lowered me towards the base of a fake tree.

I looked up and laughed, “At least it’s romantic in a way.”

Peeta grinned down at me. “You get to have sex in the woods.

“Oh, I’ve had sex in the woods. The real woods.”

Peeta moaned, “Don’t give me this information Everdeen. I can’t handle it right now.”

I stripped off my sweater, leaving me down to my thin camisole. “That’s no good, there’s lots I’m going to need you to handle.”

He grinned and surged forward, his hands on my waist sliding upwards as he did. The air met my bare stomach but he didn’t stop there and continued to slide the silky material up towards my bare breasts. His head bent low and captured a hardened nipple in his mouth, his tongue sliding over it whilst he rolled the other between his fingers.

I sunk my fingers into his hair, marvelling at the softness of the strands all the while marvelling at how his mouth was shooting bolts of electricity down to my core. I ground up against him and he pushed back into me, but it wasn’t enough.

Tugging at his shirt loosened it enough for his skin to be exposed and the bare flesh of our stomachs pressed together, a thin sheen of sweat accumulating.

“Peeta,” I gasped out, digging my fingers into his back once again. If my nail hurt him, he didn’t let on.

               He released a wet nipple with a pop, “What do you need?” he panted. “Tell me.”

               “You said hard and fast.” I flopped back to the ground as he sat up and I grasped at his body like mine was starving.

               A growl emerged from his throat and then he was grabbing at his belt, his fingers making quick work of the buckles and dragging his jeans and underwear down just enough to release his erection. With haste I yanked at my own clothing, pulling down my leggings and own underwear in one swift motion, managing to pull it free of one leg completely while it dangled off the other.

               My chest heaved and I watched his face as he looked towards where my spread legs met. What a sight I must have been. Camisole pushed up to bear my breasts and my centre spread out for him to see. As he looked at me I looked at him. Thick, muscular thighs and a toned stomach. Dark blonde hair trailed down from his belly button to his groin and there, something else thick and hard jutted out.

“Fuck, Katniss!” I heard him say, but the words were faint to my dizzy mind. His fingers trailed down to my core and dipped between my folds. I groaned and arched my back at his touch. A thick finger slid into my body, the slick wetness welcoming him. It was soon joined by another and I could feel my body stretch to accommodate. Peeta moved them, pumping slowly in and out and I tried to grab his cock but it was too far out of reach. A thumb was pressed against my clit and I could feel little stars shoot behind my eyes.

Whilst one hand moved between my legs another went back to my breast and continued to pluck the nipple. I could feel the pressure beginning to build in my stomach, my neck and back arched as far as they could go, my legs stretching wider and wider. I deaf to everything aside from the noises I was making and the harshness of my breaths. In the distance of my hearing I could make out Peeta’s noises of encouragement, his appreciation of how wet, how warm I was.

The pressure reached eruption and I yelled out Peeta’s name, my legs and arms squirming underneath him, my body clenching around his fingers as more wetness flooded out of me. As the quakes dimmed and my body twitched I felt Peeta remove his fingers and bend over me.

“Katniss,” he murmured and I could feel him press his hardness against my bare centre. I nodded greedily and in one movement he pushed himself inside me. A guttural noise came from us both as we joined and I clenched his shoulders and he begun to move.

We agreed on hard and fast and so that’s what Peeta gave. His hips pounded into mine and I tried to meet him thrust for thrust but could barely match his pace. I could feel him, his girth stretching me further then his fingers and he moved quickly and easily within me. The smell of our sweat and mixed arousal flooded my nose and I could feel my sweat mingle with his wherever our bare skin could touch.

Peeta’s hands gripped my knees and he suddenly sat up, his thighs, still glad in rough denim, splaying mine further as he continued to piston into my body. His face and neck had gone a deep red from exertion. “Katniss,” he grunted. “I’m close.”

I arched my back again and grabbed at my own breasts and Peeta’s eyes couldn’t seem to settle on one place, switching between my face, breasts and the place where our bodies were joining. With one last thrust, I heard him swear and then he was coming and holding himself over me, trying not to collapse.

“Shit.” He withdrew and flopped to the ground next to me and we just lay there, half undressed and completely dishevelled. I turned to look at him as our breathing evened out, our chests still rising and falling quickly.

My hand reached out and touched his hair which was now darkening from sweat. I let out a little giggle at seeing the strands curl more towards his ears.

               He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Something funny?”

               “Not really, just when you joked about hate-fucking me all those weeks ago your hair looked a little like this then too.”

“As I recall someone stole my umbrella.”

               “As I recall someone ventured out in the rain without one.”

               “You were upset. I couldn’t let you sit in Sae’s alone.”

               We lay there facing each other, underneath a fake tree in a fake wood, surrounded by silver and gold. Large, black studio lights were positioned above the tree tops.

               “I still need to grab my binder and head down to the meadow tomorrow. Ugh.” I sat up, reluctant to leave but knowing we couldn’t stay like this.

               “Hmm.” Peeta sat up too and we both begun re-dressing. “The meadow you say? We should probably add that to the list.”

               “There’s a list?” I asked him.

               He shrugged, “Well there is now. Ok, so hate-fuck isn’t going to make it...”

               “Isn’t it?”

               Peeta gave me a look, one that said ‘you know it isn’t.’ “...but it doesn’t mean that we can’t add others on.”

               “Oh,” I said, “what else is on the list?”

               Peeta stood and helped me up. At least sex in fake woods meant that twigs didn’t end up in our hair. “Well we can cross off fake woods but we need to add in real woods.”

Ah, I thought, best prepare for the twigs. “What else?” I asked him, feeling a tingle at where all this was going.

He smiled at me. There was a lovely pink flush on his face, his hair was in complete disarray and his belt hadn’t been successfully looped back correctly.

“When Katniss Everdeen realises how mad about her I am - sex,” he replied and he bent down to kiss me.

[javistg]

Happy Birthday EverlarkBirthdayDrabbles!

One year ago, three lovely ladies (who have chosen to remain anonymous) decided to create @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles. Their generosity and love for our fandom gave us a year full of Everlark goodness. 

As a follower of their blog, I’m grateful for the beautiful fic I got for my birthday, and I’m amazed at the amount of work they did all year long. 

As an author, I’ll never be able to repay them for putting their trust in me, and for providing such wonderful inspiration. Without their prompt for an AgeGap!Everlark fic, Weekend Getaway never would have happened. I’m not kidding! 

As a small thank you for all their love and hard work, I’ve decided to give them a little gift of my own. 

Happy anniversary, @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles! This canon divergent drabble set during CF is for you. 

Hope you enjoy. 

Javis 

 A Knock on the Door (part 2) 

PART 1, also on AO3 and FF.net. 

The small red fox runs through the forest, making its way through the slippery moss. The air around him is thick with dew, but the sky is still dark.

The insistent howls of a hungry pack of wolves loom in the distance.

The fox runs faster. His tiny paws crush leaves and branches as it desperately tries to escape.

But it’s no use.

The wolves are too fast and strong for him. Their beautiful white fur gleams under the moonlight as they jump and howl, easily catching up to their terrified prey.

They’re upon him in an instant. Circling him and barring their teeth to show they mean business.

The fox stills, green eyes wide in terror. He knows he’s doomed.  

There’s nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. So, when the wolves begin to tighten their circle, the small fox knows that his time has run out.

Anguished wails reach the treetops, pained and insistent, as the fox says his last goodbye.

Suddenly, the world turns dark.

“Katniss!” Peeta calls out. His voice, urgent and clear, breaks through the darkness. “Katniss, stop! Stop, you’re alright. You’re alright.”

Katniss wakes up.

She’s thrashing in Peeta’s arms, crying and gasping for air as she desperately clings to his shoulders.

His arms wrap around her. “You’re safe,” he whispers into her ear. “I got you. You’re safe.”

Katniss presses her cheek against his chest. The sound of his heart, beating under her ear, soothes her and, for an instant, she believes him.

XXXXX

Days go by quickly in the tribute center. Proper, professional Effie keeps her tributes on a tight leash. Waking them early, sitting with them through breakfast and making sure they reach their training sessions on time.

Unlike the last time they were there, Effie keeps all her comments about the improprieties of two unmarried teenagers sharing a bed to herself. It’s a small thing. But Katniss appreciates the lack of fuss nonetheless.

As days go by, Katniss gets to know the other tributes who’ll be joining her in the arena. Sometimes she hates Haymitch for asking her to play nice with the other victors, but her determination to keep Peeta safe keeps her anger in check.

Besides, Beetee and Wiress intrigue her. Even if she didn’t have instructions to befriend them, she’d still be fascinated by how their minds work.

Unlike Mags, who quickly wins her over with her gentleness and warmth, Finnick and his overtures make her uncomfortable, and she can’t talk to Johanna without feeling exposed, but she still tries. For Peeta, she tries it all.

She only sees Darius at dinner time. The sight of her old friend still saddens her. But now that the surprise has worn off, she notices the small things she missed on the first day. Like the silent fight that’s still left in his eyes. Or the soft smile that tells her he doesn’t blame her for his fate. It doesn’t make a difference, though. She still blames herself.

Every night, she beckons Peeta back into her room.

Back on the Victory Tour, she’d always wait for him to come to her side. He never failed, joining her even when she’d already fallen asleep. But things are different now. After spending all their training months apart, they’ve finally grown closer. And she refuses to let a new void open between them again. So, every night, Katniss invites him over. All it takes is a small gesture, a smile, a nod. But Peeta always gets her meaning.

He never hesitates, never lets her down.

They spend their nights talking, sharing a handful of happy memories as they try to keep the nightmares at bay. Sometimes it works. But when it doesn’t, they’re there for each other, whispering soft assurances that push their fears away.

XXXXX

“What are you waiting for?” Cato taunts, his arm firmly wrapped around Peeta’s neck as he holds him firmly in place.

Peeta struggles to keep his eyes open. The wound on his leg is bleeding profusely, and he doesn’t have enough air. He’s running out of time.

Katniss takes a deep breath and lifts her bow. Her eyes land on Cato’s unprotected hand, and she smiles. With a steady hand, she releases her arrow and watches it fly.

Cato’s lips turn up in a sinister grimace. He lifts his hand.

The arrow pierces Peeta’s skin, lodging itself cleanly in his neck. His eyes, wide and shocked, reflect the light of a thousand stars.  

Cato releases him.

Peeta’s dead body slumps to the floor.

Katniss gasps. The blood in her veins turns to ice, her body goes limp. The heavy bow slips from her slack hand, and she follows, collapsing in a pile on the floor.

Cato’s cruel cackle rings in her ears; his hoots and hollers piercing through her like daggers.

Tears run down Katniss’s cheeks. She covers her face with her hands and shakes like a leaf, desperately trying to erase the image of Peeta’s bloodied body hitting the cold steel floor.

Desperate and alone, her sobs turn into heartbreaking wails as her whole world shatters into a million pieces.

Suddenly, the cold air around her is replaced by warm, gentle hands that rub her arms and back. A pair of strong arms, tightly wrapped around her slender frame, soon follow. 

Gradually, Cato’s screams are replaced by the most comforting sound. “I’m ok,” Peeta whispers into her hair, “Open your eyes, Katniss. Look at me. I’m ok.”

She´s shuddering violently when she wakes up; nestled in Peeta’s arms with his sleep shirt tightly clutched in her fists.

“I missed,” she whimpers into his chest. “You… died.”

Gently, Peeta pushes her away from him. “Hey! Look at me.”

Sniffing, Katniss does as he asks.

“You didn’t miss. See? I’m ok?”

Katniss nods. Her stormy eyes lock with his. She reaches out to cup his cheek. “We’re going back, Peeta.”

Peeta’s face hardens. It’s the first time after the night the Quarter Quell was announced that either one of them has openly referred to what’s going to happen. Even after all the training and planning, no one has ever said the words out loud. “I know.”

“What if I can’t protect you? What if I miss, and kill you instead?”

Peeta’s steady voice cuts through the dark. “You won’t.”

“How do you know?” she whines.

“Because you never miss, Katniss. Not when it matters.” His hand covers hers over his cheek. “As long as you’re by my side, I’ll be fine.”

Katniss nods. She wishes she could be as confident as he seems to be. But she doesn’t feel like arguing with him. Instead, she lies on her side and pulls him back to the bed. “I’m sorry I keep waking you,” she whispers, “You need your rest.”

Peeta smiles. “Yeah, we both do.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I’d rather be here with you, than hearing you call out my name from across the hall. At least here I don’t feel so useless.”

The sadness in his voice tugs at her. “You’re not useless, Peeta,” she says, mimicking his motions and running her fingers through his hair. “I never would have made it this far without you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Katniss.”

Katniss smiles. His words are rough, but there’s no bite to them. He’s just trying to protect her. Somehow, he still thinks that putting up a wall between them will keep her safe.

Not too long ago, she would have gladly played along. She would have kept quiet and let Peeta have his way. But she knows better now, and she refuses to spend the little time she has left hiding and being at odds with him.

“And why is that?” she presses.

Peeta’s eyes lock with hers, even under the pale moonlight, they look as warm as a summer sky. He keeps his voice hushed but speaks with the clarity only certainty can bring. “Because nobody needs me.”

Katniss looks away, too proud to let him see how much his words distress her. Her heart aches for the kind boy who’s still willing to give his life for hers, and who expects nothing in return.

Suddenly, her mind jumps a few weeks ahead, to a world in which Peeta’s plan has succeeded. An impossible reality in which she’s alive, and he isn’t.

She’s been so focused on saving him, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that he might get his wish. The thought, combined with the remnants of her recent nightmare, makes her chest constrict under the weight of a grief so intense she can hardly breathe.

Peeta wants her to keep on living without him. But the emptiness setting in her bones tells her that will never happen. Because, even if she escapes the arena, she will never escape him. And, while other people might recover from Peeta’s death, she knows she won’t.

She’ll still have Prim, and her mom, but Peeta’s death will damage her beyond repair.

Her eyes find his again. Her fingers tangle tenderly in his hair. “You’re wrong.”

Peeta stills. There’s something in Katniss’s tone that has his heart pounding furiously in his chest. Blue eyes search her face as he desperately tries to understand what she’s trying to say.

Katniss smiles sweetly at him, her words are as soft as a caress. “I need you.”

Next to her, Peeta’s body goes rigid. The crease on his forehead tells her he wants to argue. She can almost see his mind working, coming up with the perfect combination of words to dissuade her. But there’s nothing he can say that will change her mind. She’s done with words. She’s never been good with them anyway.

Katniss closes the short distance between them and kisses him. Tenderly, then passionately. Without guilt, without restraint.

She kisses him for all the times she wanted to but didn’t. For every moment he spent taking care of her when she broke her heel, and for every stroke of color he added to her family’s weathered old book.

She kisses him for every smile and every hug. For standing up to a rabid peacekeeper, risking his own life just to save Gale’s.

For every nightmare he’s pulled her out of, for every dream he’s had to forget.

For every afternoon he spent helping Prim with her homework, and for all the mornings when he showed up with a basket full of cheese buns and an open heart.

She kisses him fiercely, deeply, with a hunger she never knew she could feel, eagerly making up for every time they had to pretend, losing pieces of each other and their love to satisfy someone else’s demands.

She also kisses him for the beautiful stories he tells her before they fall asleep. For being him.

And for her. Because she needs Peeta, and she simply can’t go on pretending, acting like he isn’t her whole world.

She kisses, and touches, and feels him deep into the night; until she’s breathless and spent, trembling in his arms like a delicate flower dancing in the rain.

Peeta kisses her back, matching every one of her silent promises with one of his own. Sealing their fate and their bond under the light of a thousand twinkling stars.

XXXXX

Haymitch cancels their last day of training. Katniss and Peeta greet the news with a smile and spend the day together, enjoying a quiet picnic on the terrace of the training center.

They eat. They play. They laugh. They kiss.

They talk about everything and nothing, cramming as many happy memories as they can into the precious minutes they have left.

They watch the sunset. A beautiful show of pale oranges and bright pinks crisscrossing the deep blue sky.

Katniss rests her head on Peeta’s shoulder and tries her best to pretend that this is just another day.

He plays along. But when they look into each other’s eyes, they both know. Their days are almost gone.

Quietly, they make their way down the stairs and into the penthouse.

“I’m gonna drop this in the dining room,” Peeta says, gesturing to the picnic basket swinging from his hand.

“I’ll go with you, I’d like to get some water.”

They reach the dining room and find Darius there, standing ramrod straight as he silently waits by the long table. He smiles at them, his green eyes twinkling under the bright lights.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was happy to see them.

Swiftly, Darius walks over to them. He’s still smiling when he lifts his arm, wiggling his fingers to ask for the picnic basket.  

Peeta hands over the hamper. “Thanks—“

Darius presses a finger to his lips, instructing Peeta to be quiet.

Surprised, Peeta does as he’s told. He turns to Katniss, who shrugs, just as confused and intrigued as he is.

With swift, urgent motions, Darius gestures to the two victors.

They nod, encouraging the avox to keep going.

Darius turns toward the empty hallway that stretches behind him and points to it.

Katniss cranes her neck as she tries to see what Darius is indicating. Her breath hitches. “Haymitch’s room?” she whispers.

The avox nods and cups his ear with his hand.

Katniss is still trying to understand this new signal when Peeta’s hand wraps around hers.

“Thanks, Darius,” he whispers, quietly pulling her to Haymitch’s room.

Intrigued, Katniss follows.

They reach their mentor’s door and stop in front of it. Katniss’s eyes widen when she notices the small gap between the door and the frame.

Quickly, she glances back.

Darius is still in the dining room, his eyes trained on them as he cups his ear once again.

Katniss nods back.

Katniss and Peeta hold their breath as they lean in, trying to get as close as possible to the small gap. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to follow Darius’s instructions, though. Haymitch isn’t exactly whispering. His words reach them clearly through the open door. “Have they set a date yet?”

“No, not yet,” Cinna answers, “they already have a hovercraft, but they need to see how things play out before they can choose a day.”

Katniss frowns. Hovercraft?

“So, they’re going in without knowing,” Haymitch grumbles.

“Yeah, it can’t be helped. But Plutarch’s already found a way to communicate with them.”

Plutarch. Katniss pales at the mention of the head game maker. Her palms begin to sweat as she remembers the intriguing man who carried a watch engraved with her mockingjay.

Haymitch’s gruff voice brings her back to the conversation. “He has?”

“It’s pretty smart, actually. Simple. He wants to send them bread.”

“Bread?”

Katniss turns to face Peeta. He’s staring blankly at the door. The tight grip he keeps on her hand tells her he’s following the conversation just as closely as she is.

She keeps her eyes trained on him, waiting for his reaction as they listen to Cinna’s reply. “Mm-hmm. The number of rolls will indicate the time. The district the bread comes from will be the day. I think it’s pretty ingenious.”

“Yeah, assuming we can break into the arena on a day that matches our allies’ districts,” Haymitch scoffs.

Katniss’s heart skips a beat. Break into the arena?  

Suddenly, Peeta lets go of her hand. Before she even knows what’s happening, he’s pushing the door open, and stepping into the room.

Katniss follows.

Peeta’s voice bounces against the walls, an unexpected roll of thunder unleashing a storm. “What’s going on here?”

[everlarkbirthdaydrabbles]

Hey, y'all! My birthday is April 28! I would really love something fluffy. Really into fake relationships at the moment. Any rating will do! :)

Happy Birthday @booksrockmyface! We hope you’re having a fantastic day and just to make it extra sweet, @finnicko-loves-anniec has crafted an extra delicious slice of Everlark, just for you!

“Out!” The door hit her in the shoulder as she pulled it open. Katniss ignored the pain. “I said out!”

Gale brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, his fingertips skimming along her cheek as he did so. She pushed his hand away. “Come on, babe, let’s talk about this.”

“You can ‘talk about this’ with your other babe.” Katniss hated air quotes with a passion. Right now, she hated him enough to ignore that. “I said out.”

She heard a door squeak down the hall. Lazy shits in management had promised to fix that months ago. Katniss glared at the man who had dared to poke his head into the hallway. “Not you, Mellark. You stay in.” He didn’t budge. Was nobody listening to her today?

“Katniss, I can –“

“No, you can’t. Please leave.”

His shoulders slumped, and he moved toward the door. Katniss counted the steps as he went. Just one more, and then she could…

He stopped in the doorway, two hundred pounds of him stopping her from shutting him out. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“No.”

Gale was finally outside. “Katniss, we need to talk about this.”

“You can call me all you want. That doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.” She shut the door and clicked the deadbolt into place.

…

It took ten minutes for panic to set in. Katniss unlocked her phone, stared at Gale’s contact information, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Cheaters neve change, and clean breaks were better. No sense in bringing him back into her life when she would have to kick him out again in a few days.

That’s what rationality told her, anyway. And if her Prim’s wedding wasn’t in two days, she would be repeating those marvelously rational affirmations to herself in between bites of Ben & Jerry’s. Instead, she had a size-four bridesmaid dress that she needed to fit into on Saturday and a hell of a mess to get herself out of.

Katniss wasn’t an expert in these matters, but six months seemed like a long time to date someone without introducing them to the family. It wasn’t the kind of thing that set off alarm bells – after all, Gale had brought her home to his mother two and a half months in, and with Prim in South Carolina finishing up her residency and Mom in Portland doing, well, whatever Mom did, getting everyone together would be a logistical nightmare. The wedding provided the perfect solution. Gale’s crazy work schedule meant he couldn’t get time off for the rehearsal dinner, and the rest of the week had been a scheduling mess for everyone else, so they’d settled on the wedding.

So now she got to decide between pasting on a happy face and calling Gale or having her breakup be the elephant in the room at her sister’s wedding. Shit. Why couldn’t he have waited another week to cheat on her?

She jumped at a knock on the door. “Go away, Gale.”

“It’s not Gale.” Peeta. Hadn’t she told him to stay out of this?

Suddenly aware that it was four AM and she had been angry-crying in yesterday’s makeup for a good portion of the last six hours, Katniss fumbled. “Hey, Peeta.” Please don’t want to come in.

“I was on my way to work and saw that your light was still on. You okay?”

“Sure.” Wow, that sounded convincing.

Thank God, he was willing to accept her lies. “Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Hope today’s better for you.” The forces that ran the universe should really let her know what she’d done in her last life to deserve such a nice, if clueless, guy for a neighbor.

“Thanks. You too.” The idea followed half a second later. She ran to the door and pulled it open. “Peeta, I thought of something!”

His eyebrows rose when he saw her. Way to flatter a girl. “Katniss? Are you, um, I mean -”

“Will you pretend to be Gale and take me to my sister’s wedding on Saturday?” Three heartbeats of silence told her that sounded just as crazy to him as it did to her.

To his credit, Peeta didn’t run away. He checked his watch instead. “I’ve got a few minutes before I really need to head. Care to give me some background?”

“Come in. Can I get you something to drink?” There might be twenty balled-up used tissues on the couch, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend to be a good hostess.

“Not right now, thanks, but I’d like to keep my options open depending on what you’ve got to say.”

“That’s fair.”

…

“Darius Constantinides.”

“Darius Constantine-ides.”

Katniss forced back a groan. Shouldn’t he have taken Greek during divinity school? “No, repeat after me: Darius Constantinides.” She slowed it down as much as possible, and this time, Father Rose managed to get it right. “Do you want to write that down or something?” she prodded.

“I’ll remember.”

“I think you should write it down just in case.” This shouldn’t be grating on her so much. It wasn’t her name, and Darius was laid-back enough that he probably wouldn’t care, but Prim was only getting married once. She deserved for that day to be perfect, and Katniss had already screwed it up enough.

Father Rose still hadn’t made any move to write down the correct pronunciation. “Well?”

“Katniss, once I know the name, I know it.” He had the kindly old man thing down. “Weddings are stressful, but there’s no need for you to worry.”

“I need this to be perfect.” Except for the fact that instead of her now ex-boyfriend, she was bringing her handsome neighbor pretending to be her boyfriend as her date. That could be less-than-perfect, but only because the other alternatives were even worse.

He smiled. “Nothing on this earth is perfect.”

“The wedding will be.” Had she just threatened a priest? Katniss needed an out. “I’m going to check on Prim. She said she hadn’t heard back from the florist yet.”

She really needed to get back to the gym sometime. Half-walking, half-running from a seventy-year-old shouldn’t take this much out of her.

…

She straightened his tie. “The green’s a nice touch.”

“I thought it’d go with your dress. You look lovely, by the way.”

“You don’t need to go into boyfriend mode yet, but thank you.” Katniss gave him a once-over. “You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

Understatement of the century. She had quietly admired him in his bakery t-shirts and cozy sweaters for years, but Katniss had never given any thought to how Peeta might fill out a suit. She imagined she’d make up for lost time over the next few weeks.

��How touchy-feely are we going to be?”

“What are you comfortable with? Gale and I have been dating – dated,” she corrected herself, “for a little over six months. Anything’s on the table as far as I’m concerned.”

A slow, sexy smirk spread over his face.

She rolled her eyes. “Not like that. Just, y’know, hand-holding or hugging or maybe some kissing. Nothing they couldn’t stick a G rating on.”

“Of course. It’s your sister’s wedding, and anything more would be inappropriate. Where would you get that idea?”

She huffed, then, before she could talk herself out of it, Katniss got up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. It never hurt to catch your opponent (or teammate, in this case) off guard.

…

She could feel his eyes on her. Katniss looked over to where he sat with Aunt Edith, a great-aunt on their mother’s side who Katniss had believed hated everybody before she saw Peeta chatting with her before the ceremony started. There was blushing. And smiles. When Katniss ‘broke up’ with him in a few days, Peeta would be lucky not to find Aunt Edith on his doorstep.

He caught her watching him and grinned. Heat crept up her neck and splotched her cheeks pink as she returned his smile.

“Primrose Eileen Everdeen,” Father Rose continued, dragging Katniss’ attention back to the scene in front of her. “Do you, Primrose Everdeen, take this man Darius Constantinides to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

There could never be any doubt of her response. “I do.”

Katniss was not a woman who cried at weddings. In fact, she was a woman who rarely cried at anything at all. Now, though, watching her baby sister saying her vows, so happy to be spending the rest of her life with a man who was just as thrilled to spend his life with her…

No. Keep it together.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Thirty seconds. If you can last the next thirty seconds, you’re good to go.

Then the veil came up, and with that, Katniss gave that waterproof mascara a run for its money.

…

“Gale, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“You too, Mrs. Everdeen.” Peeta would be the type to use last names with his in-laws. Not that her mother would ever be Peeta’s mother-in-law, since this was definitely a one-night engagement, but still.

“Eileen, please.”

She saw Prim edging towards them, Darius in tow. They wore matching smiles, and both glowed with a kind of contentment that Katniss would have thought kind of gross any other day.

Katniss rose to greet them, pulling Prim in for a hug the second she was close enough. “Every time I see you, I’m amazed by how pretty you look!”

“I’m glad you’re surprised.”

She pulled away to glare at her sister. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Prim shot her a grin that was pure mischief and turned to Peeta. “Nice to meet you, Gale. I’m Prim.”

Peeta introduced himself – she really ought to have done that herself – and the five of them fell into easy conversation. That in and of itself was odd. Nothing involving her mother was ever easy. The party continued around them, strains of music and conversation occasionally floating into their little bubble.

They had just gotten onto the subject of work, a dangerous topic, since she had told Mom and Prim that Gale was an engineer, and Peeta didn’t seem at all like the engineer type, when Prim elbowed her in the ribs.

“It’s your favorite song!” True enough, Doris Day’s voice carried over the room, begging her lover to dream little dreams of her. “Go dance!”

One couldn’t very well disobey a bride on her wedding day.

“Y’know, I’m not sure that my family is going to believe I dumped you,” she said once she was sure Mom and Prim were out of earshot.

“Sure you’re not just looking for excuses to keep me around?” He gave her a spin, pulling her closer at the end.

“I meant that the story will have to be that you broke up with me.”

“I know what you meant.” He paused for a few seconds. “But I wouldn’t mind not being gotten rid of.”

She shook her head. “I think there was one too many negatives for me to follow that.”

“I like your family.”

“They like you.”

“And I like you. A lot.”

“Oh.” Katniss hadn’t considered that possibility. Actually, she had, many times, but it was always a hypothetical, a fantasy to visit when everything else went wrong. Here, now, the dream was brought to life, tactile with his hand on her waist, their bodies so close she could feel the heat radiating off him.

They slowed as the song reached its end, her hand moved from his shoulder to his cheek, gently bringing him down until their lips touched. That, she felt, was answer enough.

…

Two text messages from Prim greeted her the next morning.

I always thought your neighbor was hot. Good for you.

You’ll have to let me know what happened with Gale sometime.

She put the phone away and snuggled a little deeper into Peeta’s arms. Explanations could wait.

[javistgs-ficlibrary]

JTG’s Fic Library. Fics in March.

Spring, creativity and inspiration were definitely in the air this month! The awesome @katnissdoesnotfollowback kept us at the edge of our seats with her daily instalments of Leading Suspects. And @mtk4fun finished Everything but Money, her last multi-chapter historical Everlark fic. 

The @everlarkficexchange is back! I haven't finished reading all of the submissions yet, (we’re still receiving new fics every day) but we got some awesome prompts, so I suggest you head out over there to see what our lovely authors have been working on.

Happy reading!

Multi-Chapters / WIPs

Come on Baby, Light my Fire by @katnissdoesnotfollowback​

Firefighter!Peeta

Elaborate Lives by @booksrockmyface

Katniss had a normal life, two kids, a husband, and a great job. But it all turned upside down when she shook hands with Peeta and got the literal shock of her life. So how can they handle this delicate situation without destroying their lives in the process?

Everything but Money by @mtk4fun​

Katniss Everdeen learns how the other half lives, and finds love in this Everlark historical set in 1936 during The Great Depression.

Leading Suspects by @katnissdoesnotfollowback​

When an old friend in need reaches out to Katniss, she returns to the small town she swore she’d never set foot in again. Help Madge and then leave, she decides. But a murder investigation and one sheriff with stupid blue eyes and dimples all conspire to keep her where she thought she’d never want to be.

A light from another room by @jennajuicebox​

“He tells me he loves me, and it makes me sick.” I say, my voice not sounding like my own. The memory of Cray whispering to me in the dark makes my already rocky stomach roll. I swallow a gag.

“He doesn't know love.” Peeta says and I think its suppose to sound hard, but his voice sounds sad, like he might cry.

“He wants your love, but will settle for your fear.” He adds in a pathetic whisper, his hand running through my hair, and I find myself leaning into his hand.

“He's trying to take what I love most about you.” His eyes are so blue against the hazy light of morning. I find that my head winds its way into his lap, he makes a soft noise from the back of his throat as his fingers thread through my tangled braid, brushing my scalp. I am humming with a weird, wiry energy. Peeta has a way of doing this to me

A Painter, a Baker, and a Boy who Never Took Sugar in his Tea by katiac

Peeta’s months in the Capitol under Dr. Aurelius’ care as he struggles to sort real memories from false, come to terms with the horrors inflicted on him and those he loved during the war, and understand the true nature of his connection with Katniss Everdeen.

Pure by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

I’m a survivor. At least that’s what someone once told me. He was probably right, which explains a lot about me. Survivors are selfish and despicable, although I think he meant it as a compliment. Problem is, what I’m surviving for is sometimes hard to tell anymore.

A Synonym of Acquiesce by @abagail_snow 

Katniss thinks of Peeta. He still has his mother, and he has two brothers, who are young, but old enough to keep the bakery running. He'll be okay, she tells herself. But when she closes her eyes and imagines her daddy going into the ground, she knows he never will be. (Canon divergence, Katniss's father lives, while Peeta's father dies, long before the 74th Hunger Games.)

The Surrogate by @drivebyanon

In the Capitol it’s all the rage, your own personal sex surrogate. When you’re rich, why not get one or two to fit all your marriage needs. Sometimes having sex with your spouse can be just so boring, but you can bring the spice back into your lives with someone who will do whatever you please. And with a surrogates from every district to choose from, you can have whomever you choose.

Drabbles and One-Shots

Dead Sober by @mtk4fun​

Die Bäckerei by @booksrockmyface

Flood by @alexabeesucks

Inevitability by @xerxia31

Into the Woods by @thestuckinbed​

Little Blue Pill by @muttpeeta​

May I? by @the-peeta-pocket

New Additions by @the-peeta-pocket​

Not a Matter of Should and Shouldn't by @fempeeta​

The Percentage of Us by @badnovels​

Peeta Hits the Jackpot by @norbertsmom

Sanctuary by @appleblossomgirl0305

Strange Compliments by @baronesskika

That’s my Girl by @thegreatorangedragon

Valentine’s Surprise by @burkygirl​

The Victor’s Wife by @fempeeta​

Everlark Birthday Drabbles

All’s Fair by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Dream Come True by @booksrockmyface​

Everlark friends-to-lovers by @shesasurvivor​

Geometry by @dandeliononfire​

The Jabberjay and the Mockingbird by @norbertsmom

Selfish by @pagedancer87

Everkark Fic Exchange

4 Dinners and A Funeral by @historywriter2007

Clash by @peetazeus​

LBJ by @peetabreadgirl​

The Misunderstanding by @mega-aulover

The Naked Truth by @peetaspikelets

Never Been Kissed by @thegirlfromoverthepond​

Not a Walk in the Park by @booksrockmyface​

Perspective by @roseymama​

P.R.I.M: Pranks Resulting in Matrimony by @ghtlovesthg​

Spin it Around Again by @moviefangal​

Tripple Dog Date Him! by @alliswell21​

[everlarkbirthdaydrabbles]

Hey! My birthday is on 4th of March and I would really love read something fluffy about Everlark, like friends to lovers (with a little bit of drama and happy ending). Thanks! 💘 PS.: Sorry for the bad english. This isn't my native language.

Wishing you a wonderful birthday! To help celebrate, the lovely and talented @shesasurvivor has written this beautiful bit of Everlark, just for you. Enjoy!

A/N: Happy birthday! Your request was for Everlark friends-to-lovers, fluffy yet with some drama, and with a happy ending.  My mind went to an AU where they become friends in Panem after he throws her the bread, so I hope this is what you were looking for!

————

Gale raps on the door behind the bakery; I hold my breath, waiting for it to open. It seems like ages before we hear the footsteps, a heavy tread that gradually grows louder the closer they get to the door. But my heart sinks before we even see who they belong to, because I already know. They aren’t his.

Mr. Mellark opens the door, and gives us his usual silent nod in greeting. He’s not a very talkative man, the baker, even once you get to know him a little bit. When you think about it, it’s amazing how his son is the exact opposite. I let Gale do the talking, since I’m still preoccupied at the moment, trying to figure out where he is, what’s going on.

After a while, I get the sense that the trade is wrapping up. Mr. Mellark smiles, thanking us for the squirrels. Gale gives me a sideways glance, and stuffs the bread into his game bag. But just before Mr. Mellark is about to close the door, I finally speak.

“Is Peeta here?” I blurt out. The door pauses, then opens again while Mr. Mellark looks me over. He looks like he’s trying to decide on something.

“He is…” he says at last, slowly, drawing it out, as though he’s stalling for time. I can tell he’s being purposely evasive, which means that Peeta probably gave him instructions that he didn’t want to talk to us.

Or, I’m afraid to admit, that he doesn’t want to talk to me.

I glance over to Gale, but I’m met with a stony expression. I won’t find any help here. I look back to Mr. Mellark, and with a deep sigh, nod. I understand what he’s trying to tell me. I turn to leave, with Gale going on about how to split our spoils at my elbow. I’m not listening, though, not really.

“I wonder why Peeta doesn’t want to talk to us,” I say suddenly, interrupting Gale’s plans on how to divvy up the rabbits we shot in the woods earlier.

Gale looks annoyed. “Sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I know how important rationing out our food is to him.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment; just looks me over. His expressions melts from annoyed to sympathetic. “I don’t know, Catnip. He’s more your friend than mine.”

“No,” I protest immediately, because I know that’s not true. “He’s your friend, too.”

Gale just gives me a rueful smile. “He’s friendly with me because of you.”

Now I know that can’t be true. Because Gale and Peeta have had lots of times together as friends in their own right. I try to look back on our history together, to find an incident, of some time when they spent time together by themselves as friend. But I’m shocked when I come up short.

“Why would he do that?” I ask defensively, still feeling a need to prove him wrong for some reason.

Gale just shakes his head. If he knows of a reason, he doesn’t offer it. “If you want to know why he’s upset with you, you should just ask him yourself,” he tells me, then goes right back to talking about those rabbits. Case closed.

At first, I’m too stubborn to even entertain the thought. And, okay, maybe just a little afraid of whatever he might say. But the more I turn over Gale’s words in my mind, the more I realize he’s right. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that Peeta’s behavior is making me angry. Whatever’s bothering him, he’s being totally unfair in how he’s handling it. So later that evening, after dinner has been cooked and eaten, and my sister is working on her homework and my mother  on one of her remedies, I slip back outside my house in the Seam, and start back into town.

Everything is quiet behind the bakery when I get there, but I can hear the sounds of people moving around inside. Unless his schedule has changed recently, Peeta should be coming outside at any time to feed the pigs, and fetch supplies for the bakery’s day tomorrow. Half-afraid one of his neighbors, or even his mother, who doesn’t seem to like me very much, might come outside and wonder why I’m loitering in their backyard, I climb up the scraggly old apple tree, and settle into one of its stronger branches to wait.

It can’t be ten minutes before the backdoor quietly creaks open, and Peeta appears. He looks out blankly over the stretch of land before him, but since I’m above eye level, he doesn’t notice me. I watch him as he makes his way over to the pigs, feeling slops of something out of pails to them. And all of a sudden, I’m 11-years-old again, crouching in the freezing rain while Peeta pretends to throw burnt bread to the pigs. Only it wasn’t the pigs who wound up with the bread in the end.

I shake my head to bring myself back to the present. I was planning on confronting Peeta, and confront I will. Only now, the memory of how he saved me with the bread fresh in my mind, I don’t feel quite so passionate about it.

“This feels familiar,” I say. Peeta jumps when he hears my voice, and twists his head in my direction, though I can tell he didn’t mean to react so quickly. Probably he was hoping to maintain the silent treatment. It’s too late now, though. “Katniss,” he says coolly. “What do you want?”

I wrinkle my nose. That was not the response I was expecting. “Don’t you remember when you threw me that bread?” I ask, almost demand of him. Because I think about it every day. Every single time I see him, even now, after all this time. Because no matter how good of friends we may have become, I will never stop owing him for what he did. So the thought that he might not remember… I feel tears stinging my eyes at the mere thought. But I try to will them away the best I can. I’m supposed to be the one in charge here, and I can’t do that if I’m crying.

Peeta drops my gaze, and turns back to the pigs. “I remember,” he mumbles.

Silence falls over us for a moment. I’m not really sure what to say now. So much for being in charge.

“Shouldn’t you be with Gale right now?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder. There’s no mistaking the bitter tone in his voice. But the question is… why? He never had a problem with my spending time with him before.

“Why would I be with Gale?” I ask, genuinely confused.

He turns back to look at the pigs. “I thought you two were… together now.”

What? Is that what’s been bothering him? I can’t for the life of me fathom why it would bother him to the point of ceasing contact with me, and yet, deep down, I know it’s the truth. “N- no,” I sputter. I feel like I should say more, but to be honest, I’m not really sure where to start.

“You’re not?” He looks back over at me. The hostility in his voice has disappeared. In its place, there’s genuine surprise.

“No,” I confirm. Then a thought occurs to me. “How did you know about that?”

He thinks it over a minute before answering. “I… I overheard it,” he explains, sounding sheepish. “When he was asking you to… you know.”

I remember that day. We were skinning squirrels in the little patch of a yard outside my house, when Gale blindsided me with the admission that he harbored feelings for me. Wanted me to be his girlfriend. Or at least consider the prospect. I hadn’t realized Peeta was there–he must have been walking up the road to my house, when he caught that part of the conversation. Though how he missed the rest, I don’t know, unless he left before he even got the chance. “You heard that?” I ask, feeling myself blush for some stupid reason.

“Uh-huh,” he admits, looking guilty. He’s quick to explain himself. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, honestly. I left as soon as I realized what was going on.” Now he looks red himself.

Well, that explains why he didn’t hear the end of that conversation. “Oh. Well… I turned him down.”

Now Peeta looks surprised. “Wow. I really thought you two were together. You know, given how you were still doing everything together and all.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” I ask.

He blinks. “You mean after you turned him down?”

“Yeah,” I say. “He said he understood. That he was fine with just being my friend.”

Peeta turns to look at me, his face a mixture of astonishment and amusement. “And you believed him? Poor guy.”

‘What do you mean?” I ask, feeling irritated. “Why wouldn’t I believe him?”

“Katniss, if a guy has feelings for you, those feelings don’t just… go away,” he says, more passionately than I expected.

“How do you know?” I snap.

“Because- “ He stops himself before he finishes the sentence. Judging by the look on his face, it seems like it was just in the nick of time, too. He blushes deep red, and averts his gaze. He turns back and starts feeding the pigs again. “I just do. I’m a guy, aren’t I?”

Something weird has happened. Something has shifted. I can sense it, even if I can’t tell what it is. I just stand there, gaping at his back, trying to figure out something to say. But I can’t. Nothing I can think of feels right.

“I have to go,” I finally get out, very quietly. So much so, that I’m not sure he even heard me. But I see him nod his head. I turn on my heel and retreat. Peeta doesn’t stop me or come after me. I keep thinking I should be relieved. What surprises me is how upset it makes me when he doesn’t.

—

Peeta feels bad about what transpired between us two days ago. I know, because on our next day off from school, he shows up at my door, asking me to take him into the woods. He’s never gone before. He has always left that up to Gale and me.

But today he is adamant. He follows me under the fence, and then sticks close by my side as I lead him deeper and deeper into my sanctuary. I’m not really sure what to do with him today, since hunting is out of the question. I decide to take him to the lake. Maybe I can teach him to swim. I haven’t really been there since my father died, it’s been too hard to face the memories. But for some reason, having Peeta by my side makes it easier to confront them.

There’s an ancient tree near the east shore of the lake that looks like it’s been around since before the world started. It has a thick trunk, and strongly, straggly branches that go off in every which way. I always imagined it was the tree mentioned in that song my father used to sing, ‘The Hanging Tree.’ It’s here, in the freedom provided by its shadowy protection, that Peeta and I share our first kiss.