Peeta walked in the front door of Haymitch's house, arms loaded down with bags. Peeta could never quite bring himself to call it Haymitch's home. Haymitch wasn't the sort of person who had a home. Sure he had lived in what had once been known as the Victor's Village for years, but he never seemed to settle into his four walls. But this place was as good as any, and it was next door to he and Katniss, so maybe in some sense of the word it was in fact "home." Peeta joked to Katniss that one day he would buy an actual welcome mat for Haymitch to have at his front door. Maybe even a proper door bell.
"Knock, knock." Peeta stomped the dirt and ice from his boots against the side of the door, shaking off the snow from the hood of his over coat. Spring and summer had burned away towards an early fall, and now a brutal winter. Peeta kept Haymitch's supply of firewood well stocked; he had even carried a couple of pieces from the side of the house to the front door before walking in. Haymitch never locked the door.
"It's me, your old pal Peeta." Peeta's voice rang out through the sparsely decorated house. He used the sing song tone of voice that Haymitch hated. But his voice was much deeper than when he had first met Haymitch, his shoulders a little wider in the doorway.
The house was better now, warmer than it used to be at least since Peeta had sealed off doorways and windows where drafts once crept in. Katniss had forced Haymitch to at least buy a couch for when they came over with the children so they would all have someplace to sit. They had helped him to add a few rugs for the kitchen and new sheets for his bed.
Peeta put down the bags he was carrying and began unloading them on Haymitch's kitchen table. It had four legs, but one leg had a piece of cardboard shoved under it to keep it from wobbling too much. Haymitch wouldn't get rid of the damn thing.
"Special delivery just for you!" Peeta called over his shoulder and up the stairs. He was talking against the crunch of the paper bags.
After every bit of food was put away, every ounce of milk put in the refrigerator, Peeta slipped a little something for Haymitch in the tiny cabinet under the sink. Every man has their crutch, and after everything Haymitch has been through, Peeta is more than willing to indulge his old friend and mentor a little.
Peeta looked at the clock over the stove (another gift from the Mellark family) and sighed. He turned around one last time, cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "Haymitch get your a-"
"Whoa, whoa stop yelling like a mad man in my house. This is my house you know, no matter how often you and the Missus trample in here with your parade of children." Haymitch had quietly crept into the kitchen, waving his fingers in the air as if leading an invisible orchestra. His steps were slower on the stairs now.
"We have two children Haymitch," Peeta corrected him.
"Right, of course. I knew that." Haymitch sank into a chair and nodded towards the cabinet under the sink. Peeta opened the door and showed off the liquor he had purchased.
"You always get the good stuff Peeta. I tip my hat to you."
Peeta frowned down at Haymitch's sink.
"Your faucet is leaking again."
"Yep, piece of junk. You just fixed it last week."
"Last month, and I'll come tomorrow, tighten it up again."
Haymitch pointed at Peeta, closing one eye.
"You're made of all the right stuff." Haymitch motioned for Peeta to take a seat across from him at the table.
"Bring the good stuff with you."
Peeta pulled out a glass from a shelf above his head, and set it down with the bottle in front of Haymitch.
"I'll pour," Peeta said unscrewing the top.
"Pour enough for the both of us, I'm not drinking alone."
"There's a first time for everything." Peeta smiled over the bottle as he filled it up to the half way point.
Haymitch picked up the glass and drank half without blinking or stopping for air.
"Ah, nectar to the soul." He slid the glass across the table. It landed next to Peeta's hand.
"I really shouldn't. Katniss is expecting me home soon."
"You live next door! Your door is just a stumble away from mine!"
Peeta coughed into the crook of his arm.
"True. But you have two good legs to stumble with."
Haymitch's face darkened.
"Yeah, I keep forgetting. Two good legs, two bad kidneys, one messed up brain. Guess it all evens out in the end." He took another gulp.
"Katniss and I wanted to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night. We'll probably eat around seven if that's alright."
Haymitch had a standing invitation to join Katniss and Peeta for dinner, or anytime he liked, but Peeta knew he liked to be asked. He wasn't going to show up unless there was an actual request for him to be there. But Peeta also knew that Haymitch liked to feel needed so he could pretend to feel annoyed at the whole idea.
"It's not lamb stew again is it?"
Peeta pretended to look thoughtful for a moment.
"Well it is Sunday…."
"Tell Katniss to go easy on the carrots this time. My body doesn't like vegetables."
Peeta nodded solemnly. "You have my word. Less carrots."
Haymitch raised one eyebrow.
"You making dessert?"
"Always. Any special requests?"
"Enough damn brownies already!"
Peeta laughed. It was a full sound that echoed in the kitchen.
"Alright I'll see what I can come up with. Pumpkin pie maybe?"
"Now we're talking."
Peeta watched Haymitch drink in silence. He looked around his small, but semi-tidy kitchen thinking of the late nights and early mornings Haymitch spent alone, drinking, sleeping or watching one of the four news stations they had now. He was Godfather to their children and this was the best they could offer him. It depressed Peeta, but it was all Haymitch was willing to accept.
Peeta cut his grass for him in the spring and summer; he watered his grass and let the kids run through the icy sprays, spraying Haymitch from time to time while he sat with his glass and bottle on the front porch. He would jump up, howling at Peeta, Peeta putting his finger to his lips signaling that the children could hear every swear word he'd just bellowed.
There would always be darkness around Haymitch, around all of them, but Peeta pushed against it. He planted flowers, he chopped wood, he read to his children-all things that were in their own way, quiet rebellion against the darkness, the truly Dark Days. He trusted life in a way Katniss never would, in a way she never had.
When Katniss and Haymitch would argue, Peeta had the good sense to sit back and let them go at it. Disagreements were a luxury now, not a necessity. They were just normal people on the surface who argued about things like over grown weeds and the cat Haymitch dropped off at their door for the kids that they had named Cookie. Peeta reveled in it.
"Suppose it's time you get back to the wife and kids." Haymitch was on his second glass now. Peeta knew that was his cue to leave for the evening.
"So we'll see you tomorrow?" Peeta stood to go, pulling on his coat from the back of the chair.
"I'll let you know." That was code for 'Yes, I'll be there.'
Petta nodded, he hesitated before patting Haymitch on the shoulder. Now Haymitch was the only Father he and Katniss had, and no words need to be spoken to acknowledge that. As much as they watched out for him now, they were only able to do so because he had watched out for them so long ago.
"Have a good night Haymitch." Peeta let his hand linger on his old friend's shoulder for a few seconds. Sometimes it was as close as he could get. Peeta didn't mind reaching far and going around distances to have Haymitch in their lives.
"You too kid." Haymitch's voice was distorted in his glass, groggy with liquor and sleep.
Peeta backed out of the door, turning around and nearly tripping on something. He caught himself on the door frame, and looked down to see his daughter's plastic horse sitting on its side under his good foot.
He didn't stoop down to pick it up, or move it. He let the image settle into his head for a moment, looking over his shoulder at Haymitch's slumped shoulders and buttoned his coat against the wind and ice that were sealed off from Haymitch's front door.