A/N: It's been five months since I wrote January Nights and reading it back now it doesn't really sound great. But thank you so much to the people who reviewed, I got so excited every time I read one! I think I'm going to carry on writing because I enjoy it but I've decided to just do drabbles and one shots, so any requests and I'll try to write it for you. I have two other one shots written now that I'm planning to publish on here in the new year, everything I write is just things I think up before I go to sleep and in my lunch breaks so I'd like to hear what others want to read! My authors notes won't always be this long btw!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games funnily enough.
It's been two days since my mother ordered me to stay in bed. Peeta has been here almost constantly, I know he's worried about me. He doesn't need to be, no peacekeepers have shown up to arrest me yet and if they were I'm sure they would have done it by now. Except that's what I keep telling myself, but everytime I hear a knock on the door I panic thinking that they've finally decided to arrest me.
I get so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear Peeta come in downstairs. I hear my mother telling him something that I can't quite make out, but the next thing I hear is his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs towards my room.
He comes in with all his painting supplies as we have been working on the family book together, he's been drawing the pictures of the plants and I've been writing everything I know about them, I learned a lot of things in our training before the games.
He sets them down on the table beside my bed and sits down on the edge of the mattress next to me.
"How's your foot?" Peeta asks.
"It's been better." I say.
He gives me a warm smile, picks up the plant book and starts flicking through like he's looking for something.
"What was my mother talking to you about when you came in?" I ask.
"She asked me if I could try coax you into having a bath as she had already tried and failed."
I groan loudly remembering my mother's rant this morning about personal hygiene and how I hadn't washed in five days. But I guess she was right and I didn't feel particularly clean.
"Fine." I reply quietly.
"That was easier than I expected. I thought you'd be more stubborn," I raise my eyebrows at him and he quickly says, "but it doesn't matter, should I go run you a bath?"
"Yes, please." I say smiling at him.
Peeta returns a couple minutes later with a towel telling me it's ready.
"I can go downstairs now if you want me to?" He asks nervously,
"Only while I get undressed I don't think I can make it to the bathroom on my own."
Getting undressed is fairly tricky but I manage. I undo my hair from its braid and let it fall over my bare shoulders, before I call Peeta back in I wrap the towel around myself making sure it covers as much of my skin as possible.
I shout to tell Peeta that it's okay for him to come in and a couple seconds later he's walking into the room, at first he hesitates for a second checking that it's definitely okay for him to come in but then he starts walking towards where I'm sat.
"Ready?" He asks as he picks me up like I weigh nothing and he tucks the towel tightly round me as he carries me to the bathroom.
He sets me down on the edge of the tub and asks if I can get in myself. I probably could've if I tried but it would probably cause me a lot of pain in my foot. But if Peeta helps me get in it means him seeing me naked and I don't know how I feel about that. Would he mind? What would he think? But as long as he thinks he's helping me I guess he'll be fine.
I know it's risky but I ask Peeta to stay and help me, he nods nervously so I tell him "If it makes you uncomfortable you don't have to."
"No," he replies quickly, "it's fine do you want to...you know." he gestures towards the towel and I realise what he's saying so I slowly slide it off my shoulders and let it drop onto the floor.
Peeta keeps his eyes fixed on mine and I know there are hundreds of reasons why he's so speechless.
After a minute he carefully picks me up and lowers me into the warm water. It's filled with bubbles that smell like lavender.
"I'm sorry," he says "It's just I've never-"
"Peeta it's fine thank you." I smile at him.
"Is there anything else you need?" he says.
"There's some shampoo over there, could you get it please?" I ask softly.
He comes back over with the bottle and he opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it again.
"Could I...could I maybe...wash your hair?"
I smile at how nervous he looks, he probably thinks I'll snap and say no. But I can't possibly tell him no, "Of course you can, Peeta."
He kneels down on the white tiled floor so our heads are about the same height and Peeta adjusts his prosthetic slightly. I tilt my head back so he can start to dampen my hair. He pulls it all back from around my shoulders and starts to pour the warm onto my hair and I feel it start to run down my back.
Peeta squeezes some of my shampoo into his palm and rubs it together in his hands. He begins massaging it into my hair, rubbing my scalp in the process. He runs his fingers through my thick brown hair which makes butterflies appear in my stomach. Peeta's touch has always calmed me.
He's so gentle and I begin to feel myself relaxing, every time his hands brush over my neck it makes my stomach flutter. He begins to wash out all of the bubbles and I realise how careful he his, trying to make sure no water runs into my eyes.
Once he has rinsed my hair out I realise how I don't want him to stop, but before I can say anything he picks up the purple bar of lavender scented soap and rubs it in between both of his hands creating small purple bubbles. Just before I'm about to ask what he's planning to do he starts rubbing his hands over my shoulders in small circular patterns. All tension in my shoulders is now lost.
He carries this on for what feels like forever and I make no move to object. But eventually Peeta decides that the water is too cold for me and I agree. He lifts me out of the tub and lets the water drain away. He wraps the towel tightly around me and carries me back to my room as if I were a small child.
He puts me down on my bed and gets my pyjamas, he leaves the room again to let me change, I don't struggle as much this time. That bath seemed to reduce the pain in my foot.
I shuffle along the edge of the mattress to reach for my hairbrush and I start to try brush the tangles out of my dampened hair.
I tell Peeta he can come in as I'm dressed and he comes in and sits down next to me. Just as I'm about to yank the brush through my hair again I feel Peeta's hand wrap around mine. He takes the brush from me and motions for me to turn round.
I sigh and move so my back is facing him. "Peeta, it's my foot that's broken, not my hands."
"I know," he says, "I just like taking care of you."
I smile even though I know he can't see my face. He manages to get the brush through my hair without practically yanking it out my skull like I was.
He brushes it through several times slowly and gently. He starts separating my hair ready to braid and he does, placing one section under another.
He finishes and ties it with a thin black band that was wrapped around the handle of my brush.
"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked surprised.
"I think I just kind of picked it up, maybe from making different shapes of bread? And I have watched you do it a hundred times before."
"Well, you did a very good job, maybe you should do it more often for me."
"Well you know where I am." Peeta says, "Anyway would you like to work on the book a bit more today?"
"I'd love to."
We spend the rest of the day working on the book, Peeta draws the plants and flowers and I write whatever I know about them. I have to describe most of them to him but he still manages to perfect every single drawing, and each of them look exactly like the real thing.
A few hours later we've filled over half a dozen pages of the book, my mother brought us up some of Peeta's cheese buns that he'd made this morning and Prim came up to visit us telling us about her day at school, she was also mesmerized by Peeta's drawings which he happily spoke to her about, he even offered to teach her one day if she wanted to.
Eventually my eyelids become heavy and I rest my head on Peeta's shoulder, trying so hard to stay awake. He moves the book and his things onto the table beside the bed and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer and closing the space between us.
His hand gently brushes the hair out my face and I feel my eyes start to close.
"Go to sleep, Katniss" he whispers to me.
He pulls the covers up around me and I bury my face into his neck. He smells like lavender and cinnamon, the scent of cinnamon coming from whatever he must have been baking earlier today, and the scent of lavender from my soap. Two scents I will now associate with Peeta Mellark.
He seems tense. I wonder if he's thinks that I want him to leave. I don't. I probably won't get through tonight's series of nightmares without him.
"Thank you" I whisper so quietly that I'm surprised when he responds.
"What for?"
"Just being here. For always looking out for me."
"I'll do whatever I can to protect you Katniss. To take care of you in anyway you'll let me."
"Then please stay with me tonight?"
I feel him relax and he pulls me closer. I already know what his reply will be, so I close my eyes and taking in his warmth, appreciating the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me, protecting me from my nightmares. Keeping me safe.
"Always." Is the last thing I hear before I drift off into a peaceful sleep.
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