Originally a set of drabbles over on Tumblr that came about from an anonymous prompt: Everlark. Katniss is jealous because a woman is flirting with Peeta at the bakery. Title taken from the Joe Nichols song.


She has no reason to be jealous. It's not as if Peeta is her husband.

No. Her husband is down in the mines, covered in coal dust and working to provide Panem with the fuel that gives them life, or whatever it is President Snow is telling them now.

She grits her teeth and glares at the overly perky blonde woman who is leaning seductively across the counter at the baker's youngest son. He even flirts back a little in a way that only Peeta Mellark can do - so effortless and natural. He grins and the dimples in his cheeks form in a way that makes her heart clench.

Peeta Mellark isn't hers. He was never going to be hers either. But that doesn't mean she's never noticed him. Never wanted him. Never wanted to murder the women that so often batted their eyelashes at him, all blonde and fair and blue-eyed beauties.

People always wonder why Peeta Mellark hasn't settled down yet. It isn't for lack of female attention. There was even talk a year or so ago about him being a little…off in terms of wanting a non-traditional marriage, you know the kind that doesn't yield children? Mrs. Mellark squashed that one real fast, but still Peeta Mellark is twenty-two and unattached and in District 12 that's odd. He's just lucky that his brothers married into businesses so he could inherit the bakery - which, to be honest, is probably a good thing because if it was Rye he'd undoubtedly end up burning the whole place to the ground.

"Aww, thank you, Violet," she hears Peeta say. "That's real sweet of you. I'll keep that in mind."

Violet smiles and touches his arm and Katniss has to fight back a gag. Do people really do that? Really?

Violet turns around and when she sees Katniss in the store turns up her nose. She makes a comment about Seam trash under her breath as she passes. Finally, the bell over the door jingles and it's her turn to approach the counter.

"Afternoon, Katniss," Peeta says with the warm grin still on his face. He smirks a little though when she starts to walk – or more like waddle – toward the counter. "You look about ready to burst any second."

She glares at him. "Yes, thank you. Prim already told me that today."

He smiles sheepishly and apologizes before pulling the loaf off the shelf and wrapping it up. She gets the same thing every week. He passes her a cheese bun to eat while he wraps – for the baby, he always says – and when he's finished he comes around.

"Ugh," she groans. She runs a hand over her swollen belly.

"Active little thing, huh? She kicking?" Katniss nods and Peeta gestures to her stomach. "May I?"

Usually she snaps at anyone who asks, but with Peeta it's different. She doesn't think she'd be able to deny him anything.

"Gale must be thrilled," he says through his teeth, the smile he had disappearing as he feels each kick.

"He is," she mumbles.

Gale has told her no less than a hundred times how excited he is to teach the baby how to hunt. When her mother told her that she thought it was a girl by the way Katniss was carrying she thought Gale was going to start crying. He's been good to her since she told him she was pregnant, helping her through when she was scared and telling her everything is going to be okay.

"Well," Peeta says slowly. "With parents like you two, she's bound to be beautiful. Dark hair, gray eyes," he pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, "beautiful."

She hopes Peeta's right. Because if the baby comes out with blue eyes or blonde hair, it's going to be pretty obvious that she gave Peeta more than squirrels the night before her toasting.