So this came to me a few... months ago? Might have been February. Anyways, there was snow outside and me and my friend were talking about Cinna, who is my favourite character right next to Finnick and Haymitch. Now just seeemed like the right time to publish it; the day before Katniss walks into the arena, eh? Anyways, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nor characters nor relationships nor worlds.
Cinna was ironing the jacket he'd been told by the Gamemakers to dress Katniss in. He'd already stitched it in the side so it fit the part between her shoulder and her hip better, he'd already checked for any loose thread, signs of bad quality, or manufacturing error, but it was clear.
When he'd signed up for this he'd thought that the Tribute was the nervous one, not the stylist.
He smiled to himself and laughed for a second. That was probably what the whole of Panem thought. The other stylists too, without a doubt. Probably because it was tradition to dress a Tribute, not get to know him or her, and then do the dressing-up part. Maybe it would've been wiser not to. He had faith in Katniss, but the Hunger Games weren't always about faith, and losing her would hurt. Hurt like it would hurt to lose a little sister that he'd never had.
No, he decided. He had been honoured to meet Katniss no matter how she came out of the arena, or life.
"Cinna?" Someone said. He looked towards the door frame, expecting Octavia there to tell him to get some sleep or sneak a kiss, Effie to run through another schedule, or maybe Haymitch asking for help with cleaning up something he'd either vomited on or knocked over and broken. It was neither. It was Peeta.
"Peeta," he said tipping the iron to its base so it wouldn't burn through the jacket. "You're up quite late. You have a big day tomorrow," he said avoiding the word 'Hunger Games start tomorrow', "I think you should get some sleep."
"I just wanted to thank you," Peeta said nervously. He was still fully dressed, had he even considered sleep?
"Me? Why? I'm not your stylist." Cinna said.
"No, but you're Katniss'." Peeta said, shifting from foot to foot.
"And?" Cinna asked.
"I just… Wanted to thank you because you made everyone else -the whole of Panem- see how pretty she was." Peeta said.
Cinna stared for a few seconds, hovering between touched and honoured and feeling a warm feeling of watching things slip by without being able to hold on and watch them happen. "You really do love her, don't you?"
Peeta nodded.
"I hope it works, Peeta." He told the young man who seemed to have shot down all his choices before a single shot was fired in the Games.
"The chances aren't good, Cinna. I don't want to live knowing she died in that arena."
"You'd be surprised," Cinna said. "Life has a way of making things work when someone wants it really badly."
"I want it as badly as anybody's ever wanted anything."
"Then Peeta; say 'how pretty she is' or 'how pretty she will be'." Cinna said.