Author's Note: I wrote this awhile ago, but I'm only now going to post it because I really need to start writing again, and I figured posting it was the only real way to get me motivated to finish the second part. This part is from Peeta' POV, and the second will be Katniss'; they will be pretty equal in size, so nothing epic. Please let me know what you think, especially since I don't dabble in the Everlark world too often (and never with any fanfare. haha). THANKS!
Peeta opened the front door to the Panem Diner with an enthusiastic pull, his smile widening once the bell attached to the hinge rang upon his entrance and only one person (of the three he could see inside) bothered to look up. Her mixed expression of a scowl with a playful glint in her steel gray eyes only managed to elevate his mood more, and he outstretched his other hand in presentation of the covered paper plate tight in his grip. He strolled to one of the many open seats at the front counter, knowing from experience that it was the best position for him to partake in as much conversation with his favorite waitress as possible on the off chance business picked up.
"Turn that frown upside down, Everdeen. I come bearing my latest example of what you call food, but what others would consider art."
"Do we need to have yet another talk about what exactly it is we do here?" She asked with a teasing clip in her voice, her hands nestling into the pockets on her small apron after she'd written an order slip for what he presumed was his usual. "If you're able to make such mastery in the kitchen, then I suggest you avoid the overpriced, overcooked eggs here. And maybe sleep in later than four in the morning, too."
He grinned at her normal argument, pushing the plate as close to the edge of the counter as he could before it would fall off. "But then I'd miss the delightful conversation shared between us."
She rolled her eyes at him but sighed in what he could guess was more exhaustion than an actual win. Still, she bent down enough to rest her elbows on the counter and looked down at the offered treat with actual interest, so one-for-one. "What did you make this time?"
"Made specifically with you in mind," he started, pulling off the foil and rotating the plate so the single triangle faced her perfectly, "is my soon-to-be-famous, freshly baked, apple and pear pie."
He watched her examine the dessert a little deeper, using her intense scrutiny for his own advantage to stare. Peeta had been coming to the diner every day for the past few months, always at the same time and always hoping to spend just a few moments with Katniss. She'd captivated him the second he'd walked in that first day, his feet nearly tripping over themselves because he needed his whole body still to truly appreciate the sound of her humming a sweet melody to no one but herself as she refilled salt shakers. He was instantly a goner, but also a huge coward; it took more than a month for him to even talk to her, and that had only been by her doing. He couldn't even remember what had been going wrong that particular day, but she'd allegedly noticed a change in his mood - which must have been unsettling since he was sure his normal attitude had been a weird overeager mute hybrid every other day prior - and offered him a slice of pie on the house. It was a nice gesture, and enough of an olive branch that Peeta found himself uttering his first words to the raven beauty that had nothing to do with pleasantries or his order.
"I, uh, actually work in a bakery." He cleared his throat when she turned back to face him, her eyebrow cocked up in question. "That's why I'm here so early. Baker's hours."
She frowned slightly, looking down at the pie and then back at him. "I don't know where it's from." She grimaced at the pie again. "It's definitely not homemade."
"No," he agreed quietly, noticing the remnants of freezer burn on the crust. "But, still, thank you. It's good." He took another bite to prove he wasn't just being nice, swallowing thickly when she made no move to turn away from him again. "Maybe I can talk to your boss, work out something where we can provide the pie in exchange for … publicity or something," he trailed off clumsily, regrettably considering less-than-pure options in just the short pause.
She snorted. "Good luck with that. I don't think Haymitch has changed anything about this place since it opened. Definitely not in the last six years I've worked here."
"I like a challenge," he replied quickly, mostly just eager to keep the conversation moving. There were so many questions swirling around in his head. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted her to smile like that again. He wanted her. "What's your favorite?"
"Why would that matter?"
He gulped at her intimidating glare, his hands shaking in his lap despite the evenness he was able to keep in his tone. "If I've learned anything from moving to a small town, it's that good word-of-mouth is the only way to earn any respect. If your boss is as stubborn as you say, then I need you to be on my good side first."
The minute that passed between his last word and her first in response was the longest of his life thus far. He'd finally had a real conversation with the girl of his dreams, and her reply to his unasked question was a make or break kind of moment. She'd either let the door that she'd inadvertently opened stay ajar, or she'd slam it back in his face.
"Well, you're the one who likes challenges." He got his wish; she did smile again. But it was a mix between coy and sinister, and all it managed to do was make him fall harder. "Guess you'll have to figure it out on your own."
A month and eight pies later, they were finally at the point in their relationship where he'd finally gotten her talking rather openly to him (no easy feat, mind you). But, unfortunately, he was still a huge coward. He knew she'd lived in Panem her whole life and had worked at the diner since she was old enough to wait tables. He knew her father had died when she was young and her mom was basically out of the picture. He knew she had a sister who was going to be a doctor and who she loved more than anyone or anything else in the world. He knew she taught archery at the local recreation center. He knew her favorite color, favorite movie, favorite music genre and pretty much any other favorite humanly possible to work into everyday conversation. All that, and he still had no idea if she liked him as more than just a customer who left a generous tip - mostly because he was terrified to ask.
"Eh," she finally mumbled after having eaten three bites prior. "It's a little dry, but mostly fine."
He scoffed. "Are we talking about the pie or your sense of humor?"
She exaggerated her smile into her next bite, the bemused expression lighting up her features as she chewed. The cook called up his order at the same time the only other two customers waved goodbye, eventually leaving just him eating his standard order of an egg white western omelette with wheat toast and a side of fruit and Katniss finishing her slice of pie before moving in on his fruit cup - also standard.
"Have you ever considered becoming a professional taste tester?" He teased, spearing a piece of cantaloupe out of her grasp with a smile. "I feel the bakery should get first dibs on your services - a founder's fee, or something - despite the fact that you've never actually visited my place of employment."
"Why would I when you're practically a pie-delivering service, reserved just for me?"
He wasn't sure what stopped his heart more: the sing-song quality of her voice or the fact that she'd implied - or at least was hinting, perhaps - he was hers. And vice versa? He inhaled a deep breath, the words he'd been meaning to ask for months now on the tip of his tongue and finally ready to come out with at least better-than-average confidence. But, as fate would have it, the words died in his throat when he watched her gaze drift to the door and then narrow to slits. Her whole body tensed as she stood straight as a pole, his own head picking up when the bell on the door chimed the entrance of another patron.
"Well, well, well," the unfamiliar voice patronized. Peeta watched the man's movement through Katniss' eyes, his back still facing the door while he assessed the situation purely from her point of view.
"What are you doing here?" She glowered harder at the man, which Peeta didn't even think was possible. Katniss wasn't exactly known for being very smilely - yet another reason he took such pride in earning a few on his own - but this wasn't her typical scowl, either. "Weren't you fired?"
"Unfairly," the man grunted, finally stepping into Peeta's periphery. To say he was huge would have been an understatement, and immediately Peeta felt worried about the man's proximity to Katniss. He'd spent the last few months learning everything he possibly could about the woman behind the counter, and he knew this man made her uncomfortable. "But you don't know anything about that. Do you, Kitty Kat?"
"Fuck off, Cato."
It was the man's threatening step toward Katniss that forced Peeta to his feet, moving to stand between the only other two people in the room. Absently, Peeta wondered if Thresh, the cook, would come back from his break in time to help if things got out of hand. After all, Cato certainly had him beat in the height department, but Thresh was still probably an inch or two taller. Luckily for Peeta, his stocky build more than made up the difference. Maybe it was just the adrenaline coursing through him, but he felt fairly good about his chances to protect Katniss - if only because he was blocking her petite frame completely.
"What's this?" Cato asked in amusement, his eyes practically sparkling as he looked between Peeta and Katniss. "Did you finally let someone bend you over the counter, sweetheart?"
"I think you should leave." Peeta didn't even recognize his own voice. It was lower than he'd ever heard it, though there was so much blood rushing by his ears that he wasn't sure he was hearing correctly as it was. His entire body tensed as each second spent with this guy in the diner ticked by, and he couldn't keep the bite out of his tone when he all but growled, "Now."
"Well, I think you should sit the fuck down." Instead of making a move to push Peeta, Cato unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a small handgun holstered between his hip and belt. More blood rushed through Peeta's veins, but he also felt a rush air when Katniss exhaled loudly.
"I see you're still an idiot." Peeta heard her rustling around behind him, but he didn't dare take his gaze off Cato. "You're seriously robbing this place during the Tuesday graveyard shift? Are you mental?"
"Oh, I don't just want the money, Kitty Kat."
His lewd remark paired with the lecherous look he tried to give Katniss over Peeta's head would have been the tipping point if Katniss hadn't placed a plastic bag of money between the two men. "Here. Just take it and go. Moron."
"Next time." Cato winked into his retreat, backing up with a vindictive smile until finally turning to exit the diner.
Peeta wrestled with the urge to chase after him, to do the right thing and catch the bad guy. But, more on the forefront of his mind, he whirled around to face Katniss for the first time since he'd stood, studying her entire frame despite having witnessed no real harm come unto her. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." She blew out a heavy breath, a mocking smile curving her lips. "Old friend."
"Sure," he exhaled, humor a welcome defense mechanism for the fear that he probably should have felt earlier overtaking most of his senses.
"Are you okay?"
He laughed again humorlessly, though a genuine smile did manage to emerge when the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. "Better now."
"All thanks to your stellar impression of a wall." She blushed a little, lifting a cell phone out of one of the front pockets of her apron. "We're supposed to keep them in the back with our stuff."
"I think Haymitch will forgive you this time." They shared a quiet laugh, drowned out quickly by the commotion outside in what he had to assume was the police force taking down Cato. No shots were fired, but it was that thought - that possibility - that hit Peeta like a ton of bricks. The realization of just how dire things could have gotten and how differently life would be in any of the million of circumstances that could have played out physically made him shudder.
"Shit, that was scary." Peeta winced at how embarrassing that sounded, but he wasn't thinking logically anymore. The fear had morphed into panic, and he couldn't keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "It's weird. I didn't really think about it until now. Like, my life didn't flash before my eyes or anything. Maybe that's because I haven't really lived yet, ya know?"
He shook his head, his gaze unfocused and sporadic. "I mean, I'm young, sure. But … I never really felt alive until I walked into this diner and heard you, saw you." He pinned her in place with his eyes, wide with fear and refound adrenaline. "I fell in love with you that first day, that first second. And I know that sounds crazy, but you have no idea the kind of effect you have on people. I just wish I wasn't so much of a coward that I could have told you this sooner, without the life-and-death threat obviously short-circuiting my system because you look pretty freaked out right now but I can't seem to get the signal from my brain to my mouth that is screaming at me to shut up and …"
"Peeta?"
The unfocused feeling was all-encompassing, not just blurring his vision this time but making his body seem fuzzy and unsettled. Faintly he heard the bell on the door chime with a visitor, a badge shining in the early morning sunrise. His eyes drifted back to Katniss, furrowing as he watched her mouth move but unable to hear any words. She looked worried and scared and he felt terrible about making her feel like that. Until, of course, he passed out.