Carving a Niche in Your Heart: A Katniss/Peeta Oneshot
A calloused yet gentle hand caressing a high, pale cheek,
Nimble feminine fingers reaching up to twirl short, blonde hair,
Long, slender fingers, used more often for making bread, reaching up to pull the bands out of long, fiery tresses…
Katniss Everdeen sighed as she stared at the beginning of the "poem" she had just written. Her face, illuminated by thre moonlight, was etched with frustration and irritation. Why couldn't she find her niche? He already had a niche: painting. He was a very good artist; so much so that she had really thought he was a rock when he camouflaged himself by the river during the Games. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory. There had been so much bloodshed, so much unnecessary death that it made her sick to her stomach to think about it.
A sudden fit of panicked panting made Katniss realize she was not alone on the train back to District Twelve. The doors are very thin or the cars have very poor soundproofing, Katniss noted as she kicked off her shoes and quietly opened the door to the next car. In the light of the moon, she saw her fellow victor, Peeta Mellark, sitting bolt upright, clutching the material of his shirt that was above where his heart was located. He was also panting like an out of breath animal. This scene caught Katniss off guard; she had always figured Peeta was the strong one. I guess things aren't always what they seem.
"Hey," she said softly, kneeling down beside him and hearing the paper crinkle in her pocket.
His body jolted slightly, though he calmed down once her voice reached his ears, "Katniss, what are you doing in here? It's late, you know."
Katniss's face creased with worry, "I heard you wake up. Are you okay?"
Peeta's cheeks turned a light shade of pink that was unmistakable, even in the moonlight, "I-I'm fine. Just some strange dreams…"
She sighed, sitting down next to him and patting his shoulder. His blue eyes fluttered closed as she sat and one eye opened as her hand made contact with his shoulder. She chuckled, seeing his expression as amusing. He, on the other hand, was perplexed at why she was laughing. After a moment or two, Katniss tentatively placed her hand beside Peeta's. Without thinking, he placed his hand on top of hers. His reaction was almost second nature; after all, they had to play star-crossed lovers throughout the course of the Games. A slight shiver caressed his spine at the memory of blood and the hunger to kill in the Careers' eyes. He shook his head, remembering how he felt in the cave. He wasn't acting very much during their escapades, though he had to add a little extra passion to the kiss inside the cave.
Katniss flinched slightly, "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Peeta replied, lacing their fingers together and gently kissing the middle knuckle of her hand.
She laughed, giving him a playful nudge, "Peeta Mellark, you're up to no good. What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Something," he replied coyly.
Katniss looked out the window for a moment, distracted by the beauty of the moon-kissed nature. Sometimes, she hated the night terrors because they kept her from sleeping. Other times, like that, however, she was slightly glad she couldn't sleep, for she would be missing the beauty of the Earth. The beauty of nature reminded her of the not-so-beautiful poem she had written. She sighed softly before looking at her companion.
"Peeta, can I ask you something?" she whispered hesitantly, squeezing his hand as if asking for support.
He looked at her with his brilliant blue eyes before replying, "Sure. What's up?"
"What you said at the beginning interview… Was it true?" Katniss asked.
Peeta was taken aback by the question. His heart screamed yes, but his head told him to form a logical response. He knew love wasn't a logical emotion, which was why it couldn't be trusted. After a moment of silence and pondering, he replied.
"Yes, it was," he said, lying down in his sleeping bag.
She flushed a slight pink color before willing her body to lie down next to him, "Why? Why do you like someone like me?"
"What's not to like?" he replied, turning in the bag to face her.
His calloused yet gentle thumb brushed her burning cheek as she held her breath in silence. One of Katniss's hands gently played with Peeta's short, blonde hair. Peeta's free hand drifted to Katniss's braid, where he took out the rubber bands holding it together. Katniss smiled, remembering the words of the poem in her pocket. Who knew she could predict the future?
"Having fun?" Peeta quipped, pressing his lips to her temple.
"Very funny, lover boy," Katniss joked, trying to shy away from Peeta's chapped lips.
He shrugged, "I have no regrets."
She smiled sadly, "I do."
Peeta looked at Katniss with a puzzled expression, "What?"
Katniss smiled softly, "That I didn't do this sooner."
Before he could ask what, she closed the distance between them. Their lips melded perfectly together and the breath exchanged between them was sweet, though the passion was fueled toward the end of the kiss. After a few minutes, they pulled back from each other, winded by the passion of the other.
"Wow," Katniss breathed softly, "That was…"
"Amazing," Peetal added, looking at Katniss.
They both laughed at each other for a moment before looking at each other expectantly. Katniss shifted closer to Peeta, who unzipped his sleeping bag so she could climb in. After placing herself comfortably in the bag, Katniss laid her head on Peeta's chest, right above his heart and curled into his side as he wrapped his arm around her.
"What were your nightmares about?" she asked quietly, looking up at Peeta.
"To be honest? Losing you," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair.
"Don't worry, you won't lose me," Katniss replied confidently.
"And why not?" Peeta asked, sounding perplexed.
"Because, I'm the girl on fire. No one can hurt me," she whispered back, kissing the corner of his lips.
Peeta smiled, kissing Katniss's forehead, "You're right. As long as we have each other, we're always safe.
A Love Poem by Katniss Everdeen
A calloused yet gentle hand caressing a high, pale cheek,
Nimble feminine fingers reaching up to twirl short, blonde hair,
Long, slender fingers, used more often for making bread, reaching up to pull the bands out of long, fiery tresses.
A moment of quiet banter exchanged between friends become lovers
Quickly turns romantic and passionate.
Confessions whispered under the moonlit sky
Just another night of love for you and I.