I do not own The Hunger Games.

Norbertsmom challenged me with the prompt: Everlark meet while waiting to interview for the same job

This is unbeta-d. It's also over a year old. But it's dedicated to all of those parents who are stuck at Chuck E. Cheese with their kiddos...may you get the medal of valor you each deserve, and not get at the salad bar.

Welcome to Sr. Fromage's!

"Ah, there you are!" A woman with bright pink lipstick and glitter mascara greets me in the game area. Her voice is practically a trill, it's so high and upbeat. I'm not sure if it's her voice or the flashing, neon lights that make a tension headache blossom behind my right eye. "Welcome to Señor Fromage's! Now our other interviewee was a tad early, so I've already shown her back-"

"Other interviewee?" I hone in on that piece of information like it's the difference between life and death. Because it sorta is. If I don't get this job, Mom is going to make my summer immensely unpleasant. You know, like in Alien 3, where they're on a penitentiary planet with no weapons and a creature with acid-for-blood is hunting them? Yeah. That's Mom.

The Pink Lady totters on her very high heels and looks back over her shoulder. "Yes, there is another applicant, so I thought I would meet with you both and get to know you at the same time. Now, it's right this way. We have a lot to chat about…"

I let her drone on about how wonderful Señor Fromage's is and what a wonderful opportunity it is for young people to gain work experience while I contemplate how totally screwed I will be if this doesn't work out. I need an angle to beat the competition, so I sift through my repertoire: responsible student, charismatic and upbeat charmer, competent and intense athlete, free-spirited artistic type. Judging from the flightiness of the woman who hasn't even introduced herself yet, artist is probably the way to go. Add in a dash of responsibility, and that might just do the trick. She certainly doesn't need to see my desperation to get out of the house.

"I've got this." I mutter to myself as Pinkie opens the door to a small conference room.

Except that I don't. Because sitting at the table, staring at her chewed up cuticles and looking like she'd rather be anywhere else, is Katniss Everdeen.

Who's that?

She's only the girl I've liked…forever. You know how some people have an ideal to whom they compare every other person they date? Someone they won't ever actually talk to because that person might confirm once and for all what a total loser you are? Just hearing that I'm not worth her time would be crushing. Crushing. And I already have enough disappointment and self-doubt in my miserable teenage life.

That doesn't change my current reality, though. Katniss Everdeen, my ideal, sits across from where Pinkie folds her rail-thin form into a chair. I am quite frankly astonished that neither woman hears the sound of my confidence flushing away.

I take the seat next to Katniss, since it's the only one available. She meets my eyes for a nanosecond before she looks away, just like always. You'd think I would be used to it after ten years of classes together where we avoid eye contact.

"Ah, children," Pinkie claps her hands and beams at us. "Welcome, welcome. I'm Ms. Trinkett. Feel free to call me Effie." Why would she introduce herself as Ms. Trinkett if she wants us to call her something else? Is that some sort of weird interview pressure tactic, like a trick question? My head pounds in time with the overhead fluorescent lights as she continues, "Here at Señor Fromage's, we believe in punctuality, good manners, and fun for each child. Now, Peter, why don't you tell me a little bit about why would like to work at our esteemed establishment?"

It takes me a second to realize that she's talking to me. I clear me throat. "Uh…it's Peeta, actually. Like, uh, like the bread." I wait for some sort of apology for the mistake. Instead, she motions for me to continue with a wave of her elaborate manicure. "I used to come here as a kid and it was really fun. So, when I thought about getting a job, I thought this would be the perfect place."

Pinkie – I mean Effie - beams. "Ah! You want to recapture the fond memories of your childhood!"

I nod. It isn't lost on me that Katniss rolls her eyes like she doesn't believe my line of bullshit.

"Excellent. And what about you, Kate…Kate…" Effie stumbles.

"It's Katniss." I supply helpfully, which earns me another eye roll from the girl with the long dark braid.

Effie's face registers confusion as she glances from one of us to the other. "You two know each other?"

"No."

"Yes."

There's a moment of silence after Katniss and I speak at the same time. Katniss sends me a dirty look, while I try to hide my proud smirk at having graduated from an eye roll to something else.

Effie brushes off our awkwardness and turns her fake mega-watt smile onto the girl next to me. "What about you, dear? Why do you want to be part of all this?" She flutters her hands at the walls which are decorated with colorful posters of the giant mouse himself.

Katniss, with a dark look I've memorized over the years, says, "I need this job."

I stare at her. Does she really have no idea how to sell herself and her talents? Like usual, I don't even think before I open my mouth. "Katniss is great with little kids – she has a younger sister and a bunch of cousins."

You'd think I'd offended her by interceding. Katniss sits with her mouth open, dumbfounded, but recovers enough to snap, "Peeta practically grew up in a bakery. I bet he can make a pizza with his eyes shut."

She wants to one up me? I think not. I use my most persuasive voice – and my best smile – when I say to Effie, "Katniss is great at games, especially ones where there's aim involved. And her singing voice is so amazing that Señor Fromage himself will stop to listen when she sings Happy Birthday to some lucky child."

"How do you know what my singing sounds like?" She stares straight at me while she practically accuses me of being a creeper.

Effie looks curiously from one of us to the other in the ensuing silence, clearly not used to a job interview where the candidates try to sell each other. She clears her throat. "Children-"

"Effie!" a gruff voice barks from the hallway. "Get out here and help me with this damn get-up. The fucking head's stuck again!"

Effie gives us a wan smile and holds up a finger. "I'll just be a moment and then we can continue this riveting discussion."

The second she's out the door, Katniss leans over. Normally, I would be thrilled to have her attention focused solely on me, but she looks pissed. "What are you doing?" she hisses. "And how do you know so much about me?"

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "I'm trying to help you get the job. Do you not know how to make people like you or something? And we've only had classes together since we were five years old. I paid attention." I give a defensive shrug. If she only knew exactly how much I've watched her over the years…well, let's just say that I would have more than my mother's ire to be afraid of.

"I do not need your help!" Her eyes blaze at me.

"Oh? Could have fooled me." I glance at my nails like this conversation – the longest I've ever had with her – isn't making my week. Hell, it's making my life. I know that it will be the only thing to get me through long, hellish days of listening to Mom tell me how much of a loser I am.

We're interrupted by Effie and growling-guy as they burst into the room. Effie looks contrite. Growling-guy still wears the bottom half of the Señor Fromage costume. He's unsteady on this feet, like the effort of pulling the mouse head off has left him woozy. "Who're these two?" He scowls in our direction.

"These are the interviewees for our part time position."

That seems to grab his interest and he walks further into the room. "Huh. Let me get a closer look at you." I catch a whiff of garlic bread knots and, oddly enough, the familiar scent of Lambrusco as he approaches. I guess that the wine is the reason for his inability to stand up straight and I instinctively recoil out of habit. He doesn't seem to notice and just stares at me and Katniss for a solid minute.

I can't handle the silence. "Sir, it's good to-"

"Shut it, boy. Effie, were they on time? Can they speak clearly? Not piss off our customers or swipe the prizes?"

"Yes! And oh, Haymitch, they both seem so excited to work in such a team environment-"

Haymitch swings his bleary gaze to Effie, which shuts her right up. He gives us another once over while running his hand through his greasy hair. Finally, he says, "You're hired."

Katniss leaps onto that like a loaf of bread just got tossed at her feet. "Which one of us?"

"Both of you."

Effie turns a shade of red that I'm sure rivals Señor Fromage's pizza sauce. I can practically hear her teeth grinding. "Haymitch, we only have the one position open."

"Not anymore. Blondie over here can man the front, and Sweetheart can wear the costume. I'm done with it." To Katniss he says, "You're not claustrophic, are you?"

Katniss shakes her head with wide eyes and a tiny, quickly-silenced squeal I assume is protest caused either by the thought of being inside that same sweaty suit or the idea that we might have to take a pay cut so we could both have a job. I suppose she could also be imagining the two of us working together. Whatever the reason, she obviously wants the job and that's outweighing her objections.

"Great. You can start this afternoon. Welcome to the second-happiest-fucking-place on Earth." It's Effie's turn to squeak at the fast turn-time, but Haymitch squashes it with another caustic look. "Ten dollars an hour."

I find my voice. If they guy wants us so badly, then we can negotiate. Simple power dynamics, no? "Twelve."

Haymitch growls, "You want to dance, boy? Ten."

"Eleven." Katniss's clear voice surprises me. She had fairly wiggled in her seat when Haymitch had announced ten an hour, so why was she negotiating? Or has she realized that the old guy needs us and we both benefit if we play this game right?

Haymitch takes note our steely expressions and ramrod spines. Slowly, he nods. "Eleven an hour. Don't make me regret it." When he leaves the room as quickly as he entered, we both slump in our chairs.

Effie smiles as brightly as ever, even though I'm sure she wants to stab herself in the eye with her pen. "Excellent! Welcome to the team! Let me run to the office and get the necessary paperwork. I'll give you the tour and your uniforms after we complete it."

I wait until her clicking heels fade down the hall. "Well, looks like we're going to be partners."

"We are not partners. I can't believe you almost blew it for us!" If I thought Katniss had been angry before, she's positively lethal now.

"Blew it? Are you kidding? I just got us an extra dollar an hour, Sweetheart." I can't help throwing Haymitch's nickname her way. "And you were negotiating just as hard as I was."

"Only because I was afraid I was going to lose the job before I even really had it if I didn't," she bites back.

I take her words like a direct hit to the heart: it would really have been messed up if she had lost the job because of me. I need the job for my sanity. Katniss, on the other hand, has a worse home life than I do. It's rumored that her family barely scrapes by. She sure as hell isn't spending any money she brings home on the latest iPhone. "You could at least say thank you." It's a dick thing to say, but I'm defensive.

She shakes her head like she can't believe my audacity.

"Children! Ah, here we are. I've decided that we'll fill out the paperwork later. Let's go take a tour of our exciting establishment, shall we?" Effie motions us to our feet. "Before we do that, though, let's see you too colleagues shake hands. Aren't you excited to be working together?"

I hold out my hand with my jaw clenched. I'm pretty sure that Katniss isn't going to take it, but she must not want to piss off Effie. I can't help but rub it in by saying sweetly, "I know I'm really enthusiastic."

"Oh, I just bet you are," Katniss says in the fakest voice I've ever heard.

"I can just tell this is going to be the beginning of a wonderful friendship," Effie chirps.

I'm not sure, but as we leave the room I swear I hear Katniss mutter under her breath, "Partner, friend, colleague, ally…stay out of my way and we'll be fine."

I wonder what I see in this sulky girl as I glare at the back of her neck. I have to let her know that she doesn't own me. I'm not scared of her. "Sure thing, Sweetheart."

So much for the second-happiest-fucking-place on Earth.