He met her on the first day of kindergarten.
He was afraid, clinging to his father's leg. His two older brothers had spent the weeks leading up to the first day filling his head with tales of the awful, evil things that happened at school, how the teachers turned into monsters with lizard skin when the doors closed, how the room they called a 'gymnasium' was actually a battle arena where the children had to fight to the death.
She was shy and reserved, standing with her father, holding his hand so tightly that her own tiny fingers were turning white, watching warily as the other five year olds ran through the room.
Their fathers gravitated towards each other, the only two men in a sea of moms, the only two, it seemed, with children clinging to them instead of investigating the toy stations scattered around the bright classroom. Without anything more than a cursory greeting the two men seemed to understand each other's predicament.
Graham Mellark crouched down to the children's' eye level, and Hunter Everdeen followed suit. He turned towards the little girl with two chestnut braids and smoky grey eyes. "Hi," he began softly. "My name is Graham, and this is my son Peeta. What's your name?" The little girl looked over at her father, who nodded encouragingly.
"My name is Katniss," she said in a voice both soft and melodious.
"Peeta," Graham said, smiling at his son. "Can you say hello to Katniss?"
Peeta took his thumb out of his mouth and smiled widely at the little girl with the pretty braids. "Hi, wanna to be friends?" he asked, his normally gregarious personality shining through in spite of his fear. When she nodded he reached out and took her hand, forgetting for a moment that his was wet and wrinkled from his mouth. His mommy said only babies sucked their thumbs, and whenever she saw him with his thumb in his mouth she'd slap him. He tried so hard not to suck his thumb but when he was tired or frightened it helped him feel better, and mommy just didn't understand that. Katniss didn't seem to mind his drooled-on thumb though; she simply smiled and twined their fingers tightly together.
He and Katniss were still hand in hand when their teacher, Miss Wiress, called them over to the carpet to begin. Peeta whispered to Katniss what his brothers had told him about the teacher turning into a monster, but Katniss was unconvinced. "I don't think she's a monster, Peeta," she said, "But if she is, I'll protect you, ok?"
Peeta smiled and said, "We can protect each other."
Peeta Mellark slowed to a walk and surveyed the city around him, loud and alive even at six in the morning. Dozens of other joggers were out enjoying a run in the perfect early September morning, which was only one of the reasons he was so happy to be back in the United States. As much as he'd enjoyed living and working abroad the previous two years, it was good to be home. Of course home was now a city he'd only lived in for a few weeks, a city a little more than 3 hours away from the quiet college town where he'd grown up. But Peeta was lucky, he already had friends here, friends who had taken him in and helped him line up a job.
When Peeta graduated from college with a degree in graphic arts his portfolio, along with a minor in French, had attracted the attention of a large Parisian advertising agency that just happened to be looking for some American perspective for a campaign. One project had led to another and another and another, and before long he had won multiple awards for his work and established a comfortable life in Paris. Yet when the time came to renew his two year work visa Peeta knew he was ready to go home.
Annie, his college roommate in Junior and Senior year, had moved to New York more than a year earlier, and she worked as an art historian for one of the major museums. Her Irish-born husband was a graphic designer, and he had been the one to let Peeta know about an opening at the advertising agency where he worked. They also rented Peeta a room in the rowhouse they shared in the lower west side.
It was a good fit. Annie had been a lifeline for Peeta when his world fell apart at the end of their senior year and they shared a deep bond. Finnick was friendly and wild and had a soft spot for Peeta, who was the only one of Annie's friends to attend their wedding in Ireland two years previous. And though their living arrangement was only four weeks old they'd all fallen into a comfortable routine already; shared dinners, pub nights and easy conversation.
They had long standing unofficial every Sunday playdate. The Everdeen house was four blocks from the Mellark bakery, over which the Mellark family lived. Every Sunday after lunch Hunter Everdeen would bring little Katniss to the park while baby Prim napped, and every Sunday after lunch Graham Mellark would bring his three boisterous sons to the park to run off some energy while their mother handled the typically quiet Sunday afternoon shift at the bakery. The older boys generally took off to play with other children, but Peeta and Katniss were always content to play together. Soccer and tag in the warm weather, sledding and snowball fights in the cold months, every Sunday for years. Even when the older Mellark boys started to get too big to play at the park with the little kids, Hunter and Katniss, with little Prim in tow, would walk to the bakery and collect Peeta, and their Sunday playdates continued, sometimes at the park, sometimes at the Everdeen house.
In the Everdeen's home Peeta found a sense of comfort and belonging that he'd never experienced in his own house. The Everdeens smiled and laughed and were always kind to him. They never shouted at each other or at the children. And Katniss's mommy was completely different than Peeta's mommy. Katniss's mommy gave her hugs. Katniss's mommy never yelled at her. Katniss's mommy never hit her.
Katniss adored her little sister and never minded playing with her, not like Peeta's big brothers who called him a baby, said he was too small to play with them. Peeta enjoyed playing with Prim too, she was nice and liked to colour with him, always sharing her crayons.
But the best thing about the Everdeen house was the music. There was always music playing there, from the radio, from the CD player in the kitchen, from the giant old stereo in the living room, and best of all were the days when Mr. Everdeen would pull out his guitar and everyone would sing. The first time he heard Katniss singing, heard her sweet, clear voice rising above the chords of the guitar, he was a goner.
The advertising agency where Peeta worked, Paylor and Heavensbee, was all open concept; only the biggest of the bigwigs had real offices with doors. The rest of the team, from interns right up to executives, sat at laptop docking stations with no walls and no privacy. It was supposed to foster a collaborative atmosphere, but in reality it meant that oftentimes the designers would undock their laptops and spend afternoons working at Starbucks, where there were fewer disruptions.
From Peeta's station he had a clear view of Plutarch Heavensbee's door, so when Cato Anderson came storming out one afternoon he couldn't even pretend not to be staring at the scene as it unfolded. Everyone in the office was staring; there really wasn't anywhere else to look.
"You're nuts if you think I'm working with that bitch again," Cato screamed over his shoulder, his face puce. The entire office was silent, but he barely spared anyone a glance before grabbing his laptop and marching out. Heavensbee's door remained open, and snippets of conversation floated out, too low to be understood.
Gradually the regular hum of low office chatter picked up and Peeta returned to the website he was designing in support of an upcoming product launch, but he hadn't gotten far when Finnick emerged from Heavensbee's office and waved him over.
Peeta wasn't sure what to expect when he walked into Heavensbee's office. Plutarch was wearing a smirk and speaking with another man. He gestured at Peeta to sit.
"There's not much time for explanations I'm afraid," he addressed Peeta. "I'm sure you've heard that Mr. Anderson has, uh, declined to work on the project that Mr. Cinna here has contracted our office to assist in." Plutarch used his chin to indicate the other man in the room, who reached forward and shook Peeta's hand. Plutarch continued, "This is a major rebranding contract, and I need you to take Cato's place. Finnick says you're an expert in dealing with difficult clients."
"They call 'im the crazy client whisperer," Finnick said flippantly, and Peeta smirked. It was true though, he had a reputation for being able to charm even the prickliest customers, if only because he would bend over backwards to make them happy.
Heavensbee merely snorted, and mumbled something like pushover before offering Peeta the project, his first major commitment since joining the firm. Peeta indicated his interest and acceptance, and found himself rushed out of the building between Cinna and Finnick, heading for a cab to race to a meeting. The men tried to catch him up on the short ride while he looked through the design sheets Cinna had already thrown together.
Cinna was the owner of a highly successful public relations firm, which was coordinating the rebranding of a small publishing company. It had recently been taken over, and the new CEO wanted a facelift for the brand, something elegant and upscale. Finnick and Peeta would be charged with remaking all of the print media, web design and electronic reading interfaces, along with designing new logos and slogans. Cinna would be working on presenting the company itself, and in particular its new young leader, in a fresh, elegant fashion, in the hopes of attracting more investment, or 'sponsors' as he jokingly referred to them.
The company had been renamed Aber-Deen Publishers, but under their previous name, Victor's Publishing, they had a long relationship with Paylor and Heavensbee, which was why Cinna had come to them to subcontract the design portion of the project. Peeta had just opened his mouth to ask why Cato had quit the project right before the first meeting when the cab arrived at their destination. As they entered the office tower where the publishing house was located and punched twelve into the elevator Finnick confessed that Cato had worked with the new CEO a few months back and had branded her 'impossible'. Cinna only smirked at that description, saying instead that she was brilliant and fierce, and he was betting on her.
The three men were ushered into a meeting room as soon as they arrived, and moments later a side door opened. Two men entered, followed closely by a woman who Peeta thought he might never see again.
Katniss Everdeen.
They buried Hunter Everdeen on the first truly warm day of spring. His death hit the small, tight-knit community hard because he was so young, and it was so unexpected. He came home early from work one day, complaining of a headache, laid down in his bed and never woke up. Peeta's father called it a 'stroke', said that Mr. Everdeen had a balloon in his head and it had popped. Peeta couldn't understand how anything as happy as a balloon could devastate his best friend's family so completely.
Peeta's parents took him to the funeral; his brothers were old enough to stay home alone. Katniss and Prim stood stoically at the graveside, hand in hand, while their mother stared vacantly into the distance, supported by an older man who kept sipping something from a small silver flask he pulled from his waistcoat when he thought no one was looking.
After the service Peeta ran to Katniss and Prim, giving each of them a hug before being pulled away by his mother who hissed that this was no time to make a spectacle of himself. Katniss grasped his fingers quickly before he was pulled away, practically begging him with her eyes not to go.
Neither Katniss nor Prim were in school all the next week, and Peeta was worried about them. But the following Sunday, when Peeta asked his parents if he could go play with Katniss his mother slapped him hard across the face.
"They've just suffered a terrible tragedy, they can't be bothered to put up with the likes of you, you selfish stupid brat!" she sneered, storming out of the kitchen and into the front shop. Peeta's father was gentler, even as he pretended not to have seen his wife's attack.
"Peeta, this probably isn't the best time for a playdate. They probably have a house full of people already. Let's give them a little while to heal together before we disrupt them, okay?" Peeta nodded, but he knew in his heart that Katniss would want to see him anyway, knew that's what she'd been trying to tell him the day of the funeral. "Why don't you take your soccer ball down to the park for a while," Graham suggested.
When his father was distracted Peeta grabbed a bag from behind the counter. Easter was only a week away, so there were racks and racks of hot cross buns, good hearty buns, filled with raisins and nuts. He tossed a half dozen rolls into the sack and ran out the rear door of the bakery.
As he jogged the four blocks to her house Peeta spotted a bunch of dandelions on an overgrown lawn and picked them, his father said all of the flowers at the funeral were to make Katniss and her family feel better, so it was only right that he bring her flowers today.
The Everdeen home was quiet; there was definitely not a house full of people, like his father had suggested. Peeta tapped softly on the door, unwilling to disturb them. Katniss opened the door, and he barely had time to take in the anguish in her stormy grey eyes before she flung herself at him, hugging him tightly.
"You came," she said softly into his shoulder, before dragging him into the house and closing the door tightly behind them. Her hand sought his, their fingers sliding together as she led him to the family room where seven year old Prim was curled up on the couch, still in pajamas. Only then did he really look at the two girls. Both had lank hair, unwashed and unbrushed, and both had dark circles under their eyes
"Are you okay?" he finally choked out. "I, uh, I brought you some hot cross buns…" He'd barely finished the sentence before Prim jumped up and was pawing at the bag he held, almost feral.
"Prim, no," Katniss warned. "We'll eat them properly, at the table." Katniss turned and walked into the kitchen, grabbing plates from the cupboard, while Peeta set the buns out and tucked the dandelions in a cup of water, placing them at the centre of the table. They'd barely sat down when both girls tore into the food like they hadn't eaten in days.
After eating two buns, Prim jumped down from her chair and announced that she wanted to bring one to her mama. When she was gone Peeta turned to Katniss and asked again if she was ok.
The stoic look that Katniss had been wearing since her father's funeral fell and her eyes filled with tears. "There's something wrong with Mama," she whispered. "She won't get out of bed. I'm so afraid Peeta," she confessed. "She won't get up, she doesn't cook, there's no more food in the fridge. She only eats what Prim forces her to eat. She won't even take us to school. What am I going to do?" Her voice broke then and Peeta, without thinking, rushed over and wrapped his arms around her, letting her tears soak his shirt. It was the first time he'd ever seen her cry.
"We'll figure something out, Katniss. I'll help you, okay?" She turned her tear-streaked face up to his.
"Together?"
"Always."
After that day Katniss took things into her own hands; helping Prim bathe, learning to use the washing machine and dryer, figuring out how to use the plastic card from her mother's purse to get money and buy rudimentary groceries, walking Prim to school and cooking simple meals. And Peeta helped whenever he could, teaching her how to boil pasta, sneaking bread and cookies from the bakery, and lending an ear when she was afraid. He was always there for her, his steadiness and dependability making the daunting task of keeping the tatters of the Everdeens' life together just a little less overwhelming.
Mrs. Everdeen didn't leave the house for six long weeks, until one day in May, not long after Katniss's twelfth birthday. When Katniss, Prim and Peeta arrived at the Everdeen house after school that day they were shocked to find Mrs Everdeen sitting at the kitchen table. Prim was ecstatic to have her mother back and crawled right into her lap; Katniss was skeptical and kept her distance. Mrs. Everdeen acted as if nothing had happened, chatting with Prim for a few minutes before announcing that she had to get to work but that Katniss was a big enough girl to take care of Prim while she was at the hospital.
After she breezed out the front door, leaving three stunned children in her wake, Prim turned to her big sister and said "Mama smelled like Uncle Haymitch."
"Time stopped for Peeta. She looked so different in her beautifully tailored suit, her dark locks pinned up in an elegant chignon. But when her gaze met his he was lost in the molten silver pools of her eyes, like he had been so many times when they were but children. And he watched as those eyes widened, shock and recognition registering. Even across the room and across the years he could read her every emotion in those eyes; surprise, fear, sadness, and longing. Her perfect peach lips mouthed his name silently and he felt his own mouth open in response, unable even to blink.
But as quickly as it happened it was over, and Miss Everdeen, as she was introduced, fixed her lovely features into a mask, shaking first Cinna's, then Finnick's hands. There was an almost imperceptible pause before she reached for Peeta's hand, and he knew she felt the electric jolt that the collision of their flesh produced. He saw it in the way her eyes flashed, felt it in the way her arm trembled, just slightly.
She didn't stay though, introducing her right hand man, Bryan Boggs, and then leaving abruptly with the tall dark-haired man who could almost have passed for her brother, except that Peeta knew she didn't have any brothers.
The meeting was short, only about 90 minutes, but incredibly productive. Cinna had a clear vision for how he wanted to present Aber-Deen and Boggs was quite amenable to most of Finnick and Peeta's ideas. When they stood to leave Peeta had a dozen pages of notes and rough sketches with which to begin designing signs and logos and he was starting to feel excited about the project. His spirits soared even further when, upon entering the reception area to collect their jackets, a handsome older woman with short black hair and glowing skin the colour of rich milk chocolate walked up to him.
"Mister Mellark?" she began. "I'm Elise Seeder, Miss Everdeen's assistant. She would like a word with you, if you please?" He nodded his assent, waved at Finnick and Cinna to leave without him before following her down a short hallway into what could only have been Katniss's office. Seeder slipped away quickly to find her boss, leaving Peeta alone.
The space was huge, cavernous really, with two full walls of windows giving an incredible view of the city, the green of Central Park just visible in the distance. An imposing desk sat before the windows with a pair of leather armchairs facing it. A matching leather couch, book shelves and a long board table with chairs completed the furnishings. The walls and plush carpeting were soft grey, the natural woods shone, everything was tasteful and elegant, but sterile and absolutely impersonal. There wasn't a single photograph, paperweight or knick knack anywhere, nothing to give even the slightest hint about the person who occupied the space.
"What are you doing here?"
He spun around to find Katniss standing several feet away, just inside the door. Her eyes glittered dangerously, and she was scowling, the same scowl that she'd worn through most of their high school years. He used to think that scowl was adorable, but she'd seldom aimed it at him, and never unless he had teased her into it.
"Your assistant said you wanted to see me," he said cautiously. This felt wrong; he'd imagined their reunion hundreds, maybe thousands of times, but he'd never imagined she would be standing 10 feet away, arms crossed defensively, tension visible in every line of her body.
"That's not what I meant, Peeta," she snapped. "Why did you come looking for me? Why couldn't you just leave me alone, like I asked?"
He recoiled as if she had slapped him. "Wha – what?" he sputtered.
"I thought I made it clear that I didn't want anyone to follow me, why the hell did you track me down?" Her face was flushed, eyes narrowed to little slits. "Why can't you understand? I don't want my past to follow me here!" She began to pace, arms flailing as she emphasized her points, and while he was sure she continued spitting out vitriol he couldn't focus on any of it, couldn't focus on anything but the pounding of his heart in his ears. This was not the Katniss he knew, not the woman he'd longed for even though she'd broken his heart. His breathing picked up and his vision narrowed as hurt and anger bubbled up in him.
"Katniss!" he roared, stopping her tirade. She turned and for just a moment he saw her vulnerability, maybe even a little bit of hurt, but then the walls came back up and she regarded at him with eyebrows raised, hands on her hips, daring him to say anything else. This was the woman that Heavensbee had warned him about, that Finnick had warned him about. "I didn't track you down, Katniss," he spat, matching her tone. "I didn't know this was your company until we got here."
"You expect me to believe that?" Her voice was like ice and the shards stabbed him in the heart. "I've worked with your company before; I'm one of your bigger clients." Her tone was mean, condescending, so unlike the Katniss he had known most of his life. He couldn't hold her gaze and instead stared over her shoulder at the blank wall. He swallowed hard, willing himself to continue.
"I've only been with Paylor and Heavensbee for three weeks. I've only been in New York for four. I've been working in Europe for the past couple of years." A heavy silence followed his words. Peeta chanced a look at her face, which was arranged into an impassive mask, and the rush of anger dissipated. In its place anguish was setting in.
Peeta closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look," he said softly, "I'll speak with Heavensbee, have him give the project to another graphic artist, and you won't have to see me again." It was career suicide he knew, backing out of such a major contract, especially when he'd assured his boss he was more than up to the task of handling this notoriously difficult client. But he hadn't known, hadn't realized that Katniss would be the client. Would that have changed his answer to Heavensbee? No, he knew it wouldn't have, he knew he'd have volunteered for the assignment if he'd known it was her, begged to work on the project in fact, all for a chance to see her again. He had never stopped thinking about her, never even once in the two years since she left him had a single day passed without wondering about her, and even though it hurt like hell to see her in these circumstances; angry, mean, cold, it was still better than not seeing her at all. Heavensbee was right; he was easy to push around, wasn't he? He turned away and clutched the back of one of the chairs; his head slumped forward in defeat.
Katniss controlled most aspects of their friendship right from the start, dictating which games they would play, when they would rest, where they would eat lunch. It's not that she was bossy, exactly, but she was strong willed and had definite preferences and particular ideas about how things should be done. And Peeta, well he was an affable child who grew into a patient and agreeable young man, and he was always happy to go along with Katniss, pleased to spend time with her no matter what they were doing. Over the years they had very few conflicts, and the few times Peeta wanted to do something that Katniss didn't he could usually gently coax her into acquiescence.
Ultimately Katniss's controlling nature was what helped her when her father died and her mother spiralled into depression and alcoholism. Katniss, at not-quite twelve, stepped into the role of head of the house admirably. Her mother still managed to work in between alcoholic benders, and Katniss dealt with everything else, paying the bills from her mother's account, forging her signature on school documents and reports, taking care of the house, and raising Prim. The mortgage had been paid off with her father's insurance settlement, but money was always tight. Booze wasn't cheap and there were far too many times when Evelyn Everdeen would drink away her paycheck before Katniss could withdraw some money for groceries, but with her ingenuity and Peeta's help the Everdeen sisters didn't starve. Occasionally Evelyn would sober up enough to promise Katniss that things would change, that she would be a better mother to both of her girls, but she never took away Katniss's access to her bank account, as if she knew she'd slide again and Katniss would have to continue managing their home. It happened over and over, until any trust Katniss had in her mother was gone.
By seventeen Katniss was a force; commanding, strong, fierce. The adults around her regarded her with respect, her peers with fear, and awe. Only Peeta saw the girl underneath, the girl who was just so tired of always having to be in control. Only Peeta knew how much she depended on his steadiness and quiet support to help her keep everything together.
There was a long moment of silence before Katniss spoke again. "No, it would be damaging for your career to back out of this," she said more gently than before, as if she'd read his mind. And maybe she had, she certainly used to be able to tell what he was thinking. But that was a different time, and she had been a different woman then. He didn't turn back to her, didn't say anything, simply lifted his shoulders in a small shrug.
"These people, Peeta," she said quietly. "They don't know me. They don't know anything about my life except that Haymitch was my uncle. And I need to keep it that way. I don't want their pity. I don't want anyone's pity." Peeta shook his head; Katniss never understood the effect she had. People admired her spirit, followed her blindly, not out of pity, but because she was powerful and awe-inspiring. She always had been.
"I'm not trying to make your life difficult Katniss," he said, still facing away. "I'm only trying to build a career for myself. Build a life for myself."
She released a loud sigh behind him. "You'll mostly be working with Boggs anyway, or Hawthorne. And it's a short project, maybe four weeks. Six at the most. We'll make it work." He turned then. Her defensive posture was gone, but she was flushed and unable to meet his eyes. He nodded, and offered her a tentative smile. She merely turned and walked away, leaving him alone with the raging tempest of his emotions.
Peeta's father was always at the bakery in the quiet of predawn, pulling the day's first batches from the ovens with Peeta by his side, sharing with his youngest son the life he'd lived since he was a child himself. Peeta loved those mornings, with his mother and brothers still in bed the kitchen was calm, and he found the work and repetition soothing. The bakery became his oasis, his escape from the anger and disappointment that so often infused the Mellark household. Graham had inherited the business from his own father and always told his boys that he hoped to pass it along to one of them in the future.
But the day your eldest child graduated from high school, as valedictorian no less, was not a normal day, as Peeta's mother had screamed at his father repeatedly during one of their many arguments. And so Graham had acquiesced, staying away from the bakery that morning and leaving one of his managers in charge of opening.
Peeta had heard his parents fighting late into the night, his mother's shrieks and curses only barely muffled by the pillow he'd pressed over his ears. They'd always fought, but lately it seemed more frequent. Or maybe they'd just stopped trying to hide it. Either way he knew that he'd have to slip out of the house early to avoid his mother's temper. She was always meaner when she hadn't slept well, and he didn't want to ruin his brother's 'big big big day' with a black eye or split lip. So he hid out with the Everdeen girls until the last minute, slipping back home with just enough time to change and accompany his family to the school.
They sat in folding chairs under the blazing June sun. After the ceremony and speeches they all posed for pictures together, with Brann in his cap and gown and Peeta and Rye in their Sunday best. For the first time he could remember, Peeta's mother actually looked happy.
It didn't last.
The family had dinner together that night at an upscale restaurant on the outskirts of Panem, but the arguing began even before the appetizers arrived. When his mother stormed out of the restaurant nobody was all that surprised. It wasn't the first time after all. The Mellark men stayed and finished their meal, making stilted conversation.
But when they arrived home her car wasn't in the driveway. She didn't return to the apartment over the bakery at all that night.
Or the next.
She called a week later, told her husband that she was never coming back and slammed the phone in his ear so loudly that Peeta could hear it from where he sat at the kitchen table.
It was his thirteenth birthday.
Cinna was a joy to work with. His studio was bright and airy, and only a handful of blocks away from where Peeta and Finnick lived. Time passed quickly, the three of them making remarkable progress.
They avoided talking about Katniss. Peeta had been forced to fill Finnick in on the history between them when he'd slunk home so dispirited after that first meeting. Annie had run interference, preventing Finnick from harassing Peeta for details, and they'd fallen into an understanding that Katniss was a forbidden topic. And Cinna was a consummate professional, speaking only about the company instead of the girl.
Finnick glanced at the symbol Peeta had been absently doodling while they brainstormed and nodded. "That'd make a nice logo there, mate," he opined. Cinna too looked it over, smiling.
"Imagine that in gold, embossed on book spines. Would fit right in with the theme." Peeta chuckled, inwardly curious if she would even recognize it.
They were huddled in the Everdeen living room, eating popcorn and playing a board game. It's how they'd spent nearly every Friday night for months. Katniss's mom worked a lot of overnight shifts at the hospital, and at fourteen and ten there wasn't much else for Katniss and Prim to do but watch TV or, when the cable had been cut for lack of payment yet again, play games. Peeta was almost always with them, Brann was away at college, Rye had an active social life that didn't include a dorky younger brother, and his father was usually in bed early.
"Oh my God Katniss, what is that? It looks like broccoli on a triangle!" Prim's laughter filled the small living room. "You are literally the worst Pictionary player ever!"
"Shut up, Prim," Katniss huffed, her arms crossed over her slender frame. "It's a mockingbird, okay?" Prim and Peeta both squinted at the scrawls doubtfully. "And that's an arrow. 'To Kill a Mockingbird'. Get it?" Prim was still snickering, but Peeta could see that Katniss was genuinely hurt under her scowl.
"It's not really that bad," he said softly, dragging the paper towards him and using the stubby little pencil to softly shade and subtly reshape the squiggles until a silhouette of a bird emerged, a flocked arrow pinched in its beak. "See? There it is."
"You need to sign that, Peeta," Prim said seriously. "It's going to be worth money someday. A Mellark original!" He chuckled and scrawled his name along the bottom, along with the year before tearing the page from the pad and presenting it to Prim with a flourish. She smiled. "You can make anything beautiful Peeta."
"Naw," he said. "The beauty was already there. I just knew where to look." But he wasn't looking at the page. He was looking at Katniss. And as they locked eyes she smiled at him in a new way.
Finnick lost the coin toss and was dispatched to the local delicatessen to grab lunch for the three men. He'd barely left when Cinna turned to Peeta with an easy smile. "So how long have you known Katniss?" Peeta looked at him with surprise, he hadn't breathed a word about his and Katniss's past to anyone except Finn, and he knew Finnick hadn't said anything to Cinna either. He didn't understand Katniss's reticence to share her past with anyone here, but he respected it. Cinna merely shrugged. "It was pretty obvious," he offered.
Peeta nodded. There didn't seem to be any reason to lie. "Since we were five," he said softly.
Cinna chuckled. "And how long have you been in love with her?"
Wincing, Peeta confessed, "Since we were five."
Cinna nodded again, and they continued working in silence. It was only many minutes later, when Peeta figured the subject had been dropped, that Cinna spoke again.
"I know it's not my place to say anything, Peeta, and I don't know what happened that has both of you so afraid," Cinna paused at Peeta's expression, but smiled gently. "I've been working with her for a month now, and I've never seen her light up like she did when she saw you the other day, Peeta. I wasn't certain that she had that fire inside her until then."
Peeta snickered and shook his head, but whatever reply he might have offered was lost with Finnick's return. Still, as he ate his turkey and swiss he couldn't help wondering. He knew without a doubt that he was still in love with her, even after everything, but was there anything left for her? Was there even a sliver left of them?
They both had frequent nightmares.
Peeta's nightmares started not long after his mother left. It was always the same thing; he was standing on a pedestal under a hot pink sky, surrounded by an endless blue ocean, unable to move. A dozen other pedestals surrounded him, perched on each was someone he loved, and one by one they jumped into the water, swimming away from him while he watched, paralyzed. And Katniss was always the last one. In his nightmare they would lock eyes before she too jumped and swam away, never looking back. Never once looking back.
He never thrashed or cried out during his nightmares, not like Katniss did with hers, so he thought he could keep them a secret. The times he slept on the Everdeen's couch or in the pop up tent in their yard no one was any the wiser, but the first time he'd had a nightmare while actually sharing a bed with Katniss he woke to her hands shaking his shoulders, and her frantic voice chanting over and over, "It's not real Peeta, not real, not real..." After, she'd pulled him into her arms, cradling his sweaty head on her chest and smoothing his soaked curls back from his forehead soothingly.
She never asked what his nightmares were about. He didn't have them as often when he was with her, but somehow she woke up every time he did. She would bring him back the same way each time, murmuring not real in his ear, sometimes singing softly.
His nightmares waxed and waned through high school and college, appearing when he was stressed out, vanishing after a weekend in her arms. They had almost disappeared entirely, until that awful night she left him and his nightmares came true.
His nightmares returned with a vengeance. They'd never really gone away, but during his years in France they'd been less frequent and milder somehow. He'd still wake up paralyzed in fear, he'd still sometimes lose a day to depression, but he'd been able to recover quickly, been able to remember what was real.
When Annie walked into their shared kitchen just before dawn he was drizzling glaze over a pan of cinnamon buns, the kitchen counters all but buried under trays of cookies and muffins and breads. He turned to her, deep purple circles under his eyes and a look of sadness so profound that she flinched. Wordlessly she wrapped her willowy arms around him and simply held him tight.
Katniss refused to come to any of the planning meetings. Peeta wasn't surprised, not after the words they'd had that first day, but it was making life difficult for everyone involved. He and Finnick would bring design boards and mock ups, Boggs would be pleased with them, they'd leave, and by the time they were back in their office there would be a message waiting, she'd hated everything, it would all have to be redone. They'd start again and sit with Boggs while he tried to patiently explain Miss Everdeen's issues with the latest ideas, though it was frustratingly clear that many times he simply didn't know. They were on round three, or maybe four of this bizarre game of telephone, sitting in a darkened meeting room with Boggs and several other members of his team, and tensions were running high.
Boggs spoke rapidly into his phone. "Effie, have the intern bring us in some coffee," he barked, ending the call so quickly it's unlikely the receptionist had even had time to respond.
Peeta hated coffee, but working in Paris he'd had to learn to choke it down, so many meetings and brainstorming sessions had taken place in the cafés, and it was next to impossible to find a cup of tea there. At least in France the cups had been small, and his usual café au lait was more like a cup of warm milk, really. In Manhattan coffee was strong and bitter, came in giant cups and everyone had an opinion on how to roast, grind and brew it 'properly'. But he wasn't going to say anything to Boggs, not with how tense this project was turning out to be. Not with how much was riding on it.
The intern, a tiny young woman named Rue who barely looked old enough to be out of high school, appeared amazingly quickly, pushing a small cart, and busied herself setting out steaming cups in front of the people around the table. But when she got to Peeta, instead of a large mug of black sludge she set a small white teapot in front of him, the familiar yellow tag of an Earl Grey tea bag dangling from a string down the side. He glanced up in surprise, but Rue merely winked and continued with her task.
Twinings Earl Grey tea was the one thing that was always present in Katniss's kitchen growing up. Even on the days when there was no food in the house except the peanut butter and bread Peeta snuck from his own pantry to bring for Katniss and Prim (because their mother had, yet again, blown the grocery budget on booze) there was tea. How many hundreds of mugs had they shared studying together or chatting or just hanging out?
He stared at the pot for a lot longer than was strictly necessary, losing himself in the memories. When he finally poured himself a cup he couldn't stop smiling. He knew Katniss was behind the tea, only Katniss knew him well enough. His Katniss, not the cold, arrogant CEO who made grown men cower, but the sweet girl who loved fiercely and sang like an angel. She was still in there somewhere, and damned if he wasn't going to find her and bring her back out.
Marvel Richards was throwing a party, and he'd invited the whole class. It was the first mixed boy-girl party of their high school careers and the class practically hummed the entire week leading up to the big day. Marvel was promising lots of loud music and his notoriously lax parents were unlikely to bother any of them in the basement. For a group of hormonally charged fourteen year olds it sounded like paradise.
Katniss's mom had promised she'd be home that night, taking an afternoon shift so that Katniss and Peeta could join their classmates that Saturday in early fall.
The day passed as virtually all Saturdays did, Peeta working in his father's bakery, Katniss babysitting Prim and cleaning the house. He was at the Everdeen house by 5:30, helping her make dinner for Prim, then settling on the couch to chat and wait. The party was at 7, and Mrs. Everdeen's shift ended at 6, so she would be home in plenty of time for them to walk to Marvel's house several blocks away.
They were so comfortable together that they hadn't, at first, noticed the time. But as the minutes, then hours, ticked away it became increasingly apparent that Mrs. Everdeen wasn't coming home that evening. That she had, yet again, forgotten a promise she'd made to one of her girls.
Katniss tried to be stoic, but Peeta could see how disappointed she was. After she tucked Prim into bed she tried to convince him to go ahead without her, that there was still time for him to enjoy at least some of the party. He merely smiled. "Katniss, you know I'd rather be with you than anywhere else," he said warmly.
They curled up on the floor of the living room, playing cards on the coffee table. Though the cable television had been cut off yet again they had a rare treat to share, a bottle of Dr. Pepper. "What do you think they're doing at the party anyway?" Katniss wondered aloud, her voice wistful.
Peeta shrugged. "Probably stupid party games," he admitted. She scrunched her nose up at that.
"I'm sorry I made you miss it Peeta. You could be enjoying 'seven minutes in heaven' with Delly right now." Her voice was controlled, flippant even, but there was an underlying current. Peeta raised an eyebrow at her and she looked away quickly, a blush staining her cheeks. He hoped he understood her unspoken message.
He screwed up all of his courage as he tightly capped the empty soda bottle. "Katniss," he said softly, laying the bottle down on the table and spinning it slowly. "There is only one person in this world that I would ever be interested in playing that game with, and it's definitely not Delly." As he finished speaking he stopped the bottle so that the neck was pointing at Katniss, then looked up at her through his lashes.
A slow smile spread across her face, which he returned, and then they were both leaning in, their noses bumping clumsily before their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss. Peeta was grinning widely, his eyes dancing when they broke apart. "I have wanted to do that for years," he confessed.
"Me too," she admitted, and they both gazed at each other with adoration.
They spent the rest of the evening giggling and perfecting their kissing techniques, much like their classmates probably had. Peeta thought it was the best party he'd ever attended.
The next meeting was an improvement. Katniss still didn't show, but the others were finally all on the same page it seemed, possibly because they had dragged along an account manager named Lyme whose sole purpose was to try to move the project forward more quickly because Heavensbee was getting annoyed that they were still in the fucking outline phase after more than three solid weeks of work.
Afterwards, Peeta and Finnick were exiting the building to hail a cab when Katniss walked up to them. Peeta reflexively steeled himself for her anger.
"Can you spare a few minutes, Peeta? I, uh, I'd like to talk with you." She spoke softly, with a gentleness he'd almost forgotten she possessed. His head snapped up. She hadn't spoken to him in her normal voice in any of their previous encounters, and it was jarring to hear her that way now. Jarring and heartwrenching.
He shrugged, trying not to let her see how much she affected him. "Sure," he said simply.
"Would you like to grab a coffee? There's a Starbucks in the concourse." He nodded, but for a few moments they simply stood, looking at each other in awkward silence.
Finnick cleared his throat. "I'll, uh, I'll see you back at the flat Peet," he said, slapping Peeta on the shoulder before walking to the curb.
Katniss led the way, back into the building that housed her offices. She said nothing else until they were perched on stools, looking out the plate glass window, two Venti Earl Greys between them.
"I'm sorry," she finally blurted. Peeta turned to her, confusion written in his expression. She huffed out a frustrated noise and began again. "I'm sorry for… for how I treated you when you came to my office that first day. I was shocked to see you, and I lashed out. And it was really unfair, you didn't deserve it. And I'm sorry I've been avoiding you since. I was, uh, really embarrassed. So, uh, sorry."
Peeta fought to bite back a snicker. He knew she didn't apologize easily, knew what it was costing her to do so now. Even still, he couldn't resist teasing her, just a little. "Wow, you've gotten much better at apologizing since I last saw you."
She bristled, but when she saw his genuine smile she softened. "Yeah, well I've been practising that speech for three weeks," she admitted.
"I'm honoured," he quipped, but he was smiling.
"I just… I've missed you Peeta," she confessed quietly. "And I don't want us to be strangers."
"I've missed you too, Katniss." His voice wavered a little, and he suspected that she heard it. He really wanted to ask her what she did want them to be, but instead he swallowed hard and directed the conversation elsewhere.
"You look well," he said softly. 'Well' wasn't the word he was thinking; she looked gorgeous, incredible, sexy, alluring, but he couldn't say any of that. 'Well' seemed safe. She grinned.
"You look good too, Peeta."
They were shy, tentative. Two people who had known each other better than anyone else but who were now practically strangers.
"So," he said, grasping for a way to breach the silence. "You're CEO here now. That's amazing. You've already accomplished so much."
She shrugged, but there was a hint of pride in her features. "I took over fully when I graduated last spring. It hasn't been smooth sailing, and I still have a lot to learn, but I'd like to think I'm doing an okay job."
"I saw the awards, Katniss," he conceded, referring to the wall of framed accolades and glass case of statuettes that was prominently featured in the waiting area of Aber-Deen. "You're doing far better than okay." She smiled, but added nothing more about her work.
"So you were in Europe?" she asked.
"Yeah, in Paris," he replied and watched with amusement as her eyes lit up.
"I knew that French minor would come in handy!" she exclaimed, then faltered; pain shot through her eyes as they both remembered.
"Come on, Peeta, it'll be fun!"
Peeta rolled his eyes. There were many things he could think of doing with his girlfriend that he would call 'fun', but taking French classes was certainly not one of them.
"Please? I have to pick up a language credit, and I can't take both Spanish and AP English! Take French with me! Please? It'll be like our own secret language!" At that Peeta laughed, Katniss was so good at knowing exactly what to say to convince him. He'd already taken Spanish in freshman year, but he would add a second language credit for her. He would do anything for her.
And it turned out that he enjoyed the French class, enough to sign up for another, and then another. Then he even minored in French in college.
French never became a secret language for them, Katniss had only taken the single course she'd needed before moving on to other interests, but thereafter Peeta referred to her as 'mon amour', at first teasingly, then later with complete seriousness.
The words were on his tongue, he could almost taste them, flavoured with rejection. She cleared her throat. "You, ah, must have seen some amazing things while you were there."
"Yeah," he said, his voice tinged with melancholy. In truth he'd done very little sight-seeing during his two years in Europe. He'd spent a week in Dublin for Annie's wedding, and four days in Cassis just before deciding not to renew his work visa, but the rest of the time he'd been a virtual workaholic, concentrating only on making a name for himself.
"You must have practically lived at the Louvre," she said, smiling. At that his face lit up.
"I really did," he chuckled. "I bought a membership my first week in Paris. I spent so many Sunday mornings sketching there." He sighed, that had been one of the few solaces he'd allowed himself over his years in France, the opportunity to make art in a city where no one stopped to stare at you if you had a sketchbook propped on your knee at the café or in the parks.
"You miss it? Being in France?" He merely shook his head at her question.
"I enjoyed my time there, it was an incredible learning experience, but I was ready to come home," he said simply. He didn't miss the flash of pain in her eyes at the word 'home', but he didn't push her.
A moment later her phone began to ring and she barked into it with her CEO voice. The call was only a handful of words, and then she turned back to Peeta.
"I'm really sorry, but I have another meeting at 5, and Effie is in a state up there. She's obsessive about keeping me on schedule." He nodded in understanding, and they stood to leave. They faced each other awkwardly; Peeta had no idea what to do. In another lifetime he'd have hugged her goodbye, or kissed her breathless, but neither seemed appropriate now. Neither did he want to shake her hand; you don't just shake hands with someone who used to be your entire world. Ultimately Katniss made the decision for him, reaching out and squeezing his arm softly.
"Can I see you again, Peeta? I'd really like to catch up…"
"Of course," he agreed, hardly trusting his voice to say anything else. Then with a half-smile she turned and was gone again.
She came to their next meeting. It was only scheduled to be a quick once-over of the latest round of designs, but having her actually there to clarify her ideas was an opportunity they couldn't afford to pass up. At noon Boggs left to order food for the group, and most of the others wandered away to stretch, but Katniss remained, pouring over the stacks of designs with an almost awed expression.
So engrossed was she that Peeta was able to examine her without fear of being caught staring. She'd taken off her blazer at some point, and the peach blouse she wore was the perfect complement to her olive colouring. She was chewing the end of a pen, just like she always did when they were kids, but when she moved to set it back onto the table the neckline of her blouse shifted and Peeta caught a glimpse of a perfect champagne pearl glowing just below the hollow of her throat.
He picked her up after her shift at the department store. She worked in linens, folding towels and sheet sets every Thursday and Friday night and all day Saturday. Now that Prim was almost 13 Katniss didn't have to worry about leaving her alone after school and could work and earn some money, which she generally spent on her little sister anyway, providing her with outings and treats that their mother, in her alcoholic haze, never did.
The drive to her house was quiet. Katniss seemed tired, Peeta was obviously nervous, a kind of unsettled energy thrumming around him as he piloted the old Corolla through the streets of their neighbourhood.
"Peeeeeeta..." She said in a sing-song voice. "What are you hiding? You know you can't keep any secrets from me, I can always tell..."
He smirked at her. "Not a secret, just a surprise. You'll know soon enough."
She groaned. "Better not be a surprise party, Peeta, you know I hate those things." She was scowling, her seventeenth birthday was only 3 days away and she must have guessed that was at least partially behind his secret keeping. While he understood her trepidation he wasn't going to let her spoil her surprise, he'd worked too hard on it. He was grateful when she didn't push him any further.
When they arrived at her house everything was dark. He held her hand as they made their way up the walkway. As they reached the door she turned to him.
"I swear to God if anyone jumps out at me yelling surprise I'm going to break your nose." He laughed but he had no doubt that she was serious. He knew her too well though, knew how much she hated being the centre of attention. No, his plans for her were decidedly more low-key. She unlocked the door and found the ground floor empty and quiet, the only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that the kitchen door was closed. She headed towards it, but he smiled and shook his head.
"Why don't you go up and change, and when you come back down your surprise will be ready. Okay?" He kissed her forehead sweetly and released her hand.
He'd been at the house most of the day while she worked, baking and cooking, Prim had helped him set everything up before he took her to a friend's house for a sleepover. Their mother was, yet again, working a double shift at the hospital and would be home in the morning. Probably.
It took Katniss very little time to change out of her uniform polo and khakis and into jeans and a soft yellow blouse. She'd unplaited her hair and the ebony waves cascaded down her back. Peeta thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"You're so pretty," he murmured, leaning in to capture her mouth. She smiled into their kiss, she was never very good at accepting compliments but she didn't argue with him this time. They kissed slowly and sweetly, their lips moving in the kind of synchronicity that comes from years of practice. Too soon Peeta reluctantly pulled back and twining his fingers with hers again led her through the kitchen and out onto the back deck.
Strings of white lights were everywhere, wrapped around the railings and hanging from the house. The small patio table was set with candles and flowers, and a basket of cheese buns covered with a cloth napkin sat in the middle. Soft music drifted from a portable CD player. And overheard a million stars twinkled in the moonless sky. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Peeta, this is so beautiful!" She looked up at him, the lights shimmering in her silver eyes, smiling that soft smile that she only ever showed to him. The one that made him love her.
They ate the dinner he'd prepared, chicken stir-fry and noodles. In the years since his mother left he'd gotten really good at cooking, he did most of the cooking at home for his father now that Rye was away at college. He prepared a fair number of meals for the Everdeens too, and knew their kitchen as well as his own.
He asked her to dance, and she rolled her eyes but when he pulled her close she melted into his arms. They danced under the stars, laughing and chatting and kissing. He loved to kiss her, loved the softness of her lips, the little mewling noises she'd make in the back of her throat when his tongue would timidly poke into her mouth.
Eventually he led her back to the little table and brought out a small chocolate cake, complete with candles. He sang Happy Birthday tunelessly and she laughed, closing her eyes tightly for a few moments before blowing out the candles. When she was finished with her slice he slid a small box shyly across the table.
"Peeta," she breathed as she removed the lid from the box, and he smiled. Inside was a small champagne pearl, suspended on a delicate gold chain. The gift had nearly wiped out his meager savings, but he knew as soon as he saw it that it was perfect for her.
She held her hair up as he fastened the chain, placing delicate kisses along the nape of her neck as he did. When she turned in his arms to thank him he smiled at the sight of the pearl glowing against her olive skin. She kissed him so sweetly before pulling away to extinguish the candles still glowing on the table. When she saw his confusion she smiled, and took him by the hand, leading him swiftly inside and up the stairs to her room.
Laying together in her bed their kisses turned into touches and caresses, growing in urgency. She pushed off his sweater and t-shirt, mapped his broad chest her fingers and mouth. He took his time with the buttons of her blouse, as if unwrapping a most precious gift, then worshipped every inch of her body reverently. They breached that final barrier together, and after they covered each other joyfully with tearful kisses and promises of real and always.
They'd been hunched over the table in her office for hours. The sun had set and Cinna was long gone. Katniss kept finding more and more things that she wanted changed, little, almost inconsequential things for the most part. Peeta had always liked her perfectionism, had always admired her for never settling for 'good enough'. Finnick on the other hand was clearly at the end of his rope. The man continued to wear his trademark smile but Peeta had no doubt that Katniss was getting on his last nerve. Finnick wasn't used to having his work challenged at all, and certainly not in the painstaking fashion that Katniss had. Peeta could see his friend's jaw clenching and the slight tremor of his right hand as he manipulated the stylus of his drawing tablet.
"Finn," Peeta said with a smirk. "It's almost seven; don't you need to call Paylor about the Weston file before she leaves?" It was a complete fabrication, neither of them reported to Paylor, and even if they had they both knew she was gone by four every day. Finn glanced up at him with a puzzled expression which quickly resolved into understanding, and gratitude.
"Uh, yeah, yeah, thanks for the reminder lad. I'll, uh, just step out and make that call." Finnick practically leapt out of his chair and bounded straight out of the office. Peeta knew the excuse would only buy his friend perhaps 15 minutes, but hoped it'd be enough for Finn to calm down. Katniss hadn't seemed to even notice, her nose still buried in the pile of proofs before her, a pen pinched between her teeth.
Peeta pushed back his laptop to make room for his sketchbook, leaning forward to sketch out some revisions on paper before moving them into the editing software. Some of the other graphic artists teased him about his 'old-fashioned' pencil and paper habit, but he did his best work with his hands, and he needed these changes to be perfect.
His hair had gotten long since he'd moved to New York, ridiculously long in fact and the curls tumbled into his eyes when he slumped over the table. He hadn't yet found a hairdresser he felt comfortable with in the city. Annie had suggested a place, but one look at the salon owner's orange corkscrew curls and purple lipstick sent Peeta running for the door. So now he was stuck trying to look through a blonde wall at the paper in front of him. With a deep sigh he pushed back the hair and left his hand in place, leaning on his elbow. It probably wasn't a good look, but he was exhausted and starving and just didn't care.
He was lost in his work, having gotten into a groove, when he heard her gasp. He lifted only his eyes, warily, wondering what Katniss was displeased with this time. Peeta was a patient man by nature, but he cringed internally as he imagined even more work coming from that distressed little noise.
But Katniss was no longer looking at the proofs. She was looking at him. At his forehead actually, the wide expanse of pale skin and blonde eyebrows exposed by his lifted hair. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but before he could say a word her hand reached out and ghosted along the thin white scar that stretched across half his forehead, just below his hairline.
"I..." she whispered. "I'd forgotten about that."
Peeta was hanging up his backpack in the cloakroom and absent-mindedly scratching at the itchy white tape that held a large square of gauze to his forehead when Katniss skipped in. He saw her less frequently in the school yard before school now, ever since Prim had started kindergarten last month Katniss spent the time before school keeping an eye on her baby sister in the primary yard. But their hooks were side by side and he always waited for her, so they could file into the fourth grade classroom together.
When she saw him the sweet smile on her face fell and her brows knitted together. "Peeta, what happened?" she questioned, leaning in close to look at the large purple bruise surrounding his eye. Peeta sucked on his bottom lip, he knew the story mommy had instructed him to tell, he'd practised it on the drive to the emergency room and repeated it quite convincingly to the nurses and the doctor who had stitched his head, but it was harder to lie to Katniss.
"I, uh, we were wrestling and the coffee table… I mean, I hit the coffee table. On my head." He smiled slightly, pleased that he hadn't messed up the speech his mother had taught him, not too much anyway. Mommy said there would be even more trouble for him if he told anyone anything different. It was his fault after all that she'd had to hit him again, and she was so mad when he wouldn't stop bleeding. So mad that he'd needed stitches this time. He was a stupid, useless boy that nobody wanted, she told him that over and over again. If he kept making her mad she was going to send him away and then no one would take care of him. He'd be alone. Peeta didn't want to be alone. No one would believe him if he told the truth anyway, he was an observant little boy and he saw how people were always so sympathetic to his mother, poor Mrs Mellark, those boys are such a handful, you just have a seat here dear and try to relax, we'll bring the little one back when he's patched up.
Katniss frowned at him, but the teacher was calling them all to their desks, so she took Peeta's hand without another word and led him to their desks, which were also side-by-side. The morning passed quickly, but Peeta noticed that she kept sneaking looks at him.
By lunchtime he was tired and his head hurt. They ate their lunches at their desks, but Peeta barely picked at his. When it was time to head out to play in the school yard Katniss practically dragged him outside. He expected that she would want to play tag, as usual, but she seemed to sense that he wasn't feeling very good. Instead she led him to the base of one of the big shade trees along the perimeter of the yard. They had barely sat down before she turned on him.
"What really happened Peeta?" she asked, pointing at the bandage, her brows furrowed again. He swallowed thickly, he was so tired, and it was hard to remember what he was supposed to say.
"I – I told you already," he said softly, but she shook her head.
"You can't lie to me Peeta Mellark, I can always tell."
He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes tightly. He didn't want to cry again, only babies cry, mommy always told him that, but he didn't want to lie to Katniss anymore, she was his best friend and it hurt to keep things from her.
"Peeta?" Her voice was soft now, hardly a whisper. "Was it her again? Did your mom do that?" He couldn't bear to open his eyes, so he simply nodded and hoped she saw. Hardly a moment later she was hugging him fiercely.
"You can't tell anyone Katniss. Okay? You can't tell. It'll be worse if you tell," he implored, and opened his eyes to make sure she understood. She looked so sad, but she nodded.
"Okay Peeta," she whispered. "But when I get bigger I'm going to make her stop. I'm going to protect you."
She was still staring at him with an indescribably sad expression when Finnick re-entered the office. "Right then lad, are we about done here?" he asked, oblivious to the charged atmosphere in the room.
When Peeta, Finnick and Cinna arrived the next day she was seated almost regally between Boggs and the dark haired man Peeta had seen briefly at their first meeting.
His name was Hawthorne, and Peeta wanted to rip his throat out before they'd even finished with introductions. Hawthorne sat far too close to Katniss, touched her at every excuse (and even when there was no excuse), leaned in continually to whisper things in her ear.
Peeta found himself virtually unable to pay attention to anything in the meeting except them. It's not that he expected her to be waiting for him, not rationally anyway. After all, he'd dated in the years they'd been apart, even if nothing ever came of any of the few dates his friends or coworkers had set up. But to see the evidence that she had moved on, to see her share with Hawthorne the smiles that she used to reserve only for him, it was like being left at the airport all over again. It was worse, even, because this time he understood the pain. Because this time he should have known fucking better than to let her worm her way into his thoughts again. That little flare of hope that he'd allowed himself wrapped around his chest and choked out all of the light.
And then Hawthorne called her 'Catnip'. And she allowed it.
"I don't understand why they can't just call me by my name," Katniss groused, arms crossed over her chest. It wasn't the first time she'd complained about their classmates calling her 'Kat', but she seemed particularly annoyed today.
"Why don't you just tell them that you hate being called 'Kat'," Peeta suggested rationally, not missing the way Katniss flinched beside him.
"Why should I have to?" she shouted, and Peeta gripped the steering wheel tighter. "It's only two syllables, 'Kat-Niss', how hard is that?" Peeta fell silent, waiting for her rage to burn out, but she was still griping when they pulled into her driveway, still bitching when they walked into her kitchen and dropped their books onto the table.
"Katniss," he tried, "It's just not that big of a deal, not worth getting this riled up about. It doesn't bother you to call Primrose 'Prim'…"
She whirled around, her patented scowl aimed squarely at him. "That's not the same! You and Prim like your nicknames! I've never invited anyone to call me anything other than Katniss!"
Peeta was patient far beyond his seventeen years, but even he had his limit, and that scowl always did something to him, made him want to wind her up even further. He approached her predatorily and she took a couple of reflexive steps backwards, until her back hit the refrigerator door. He leaned in, bracketing her with a forearm on either side of her shoulders, pressing into her personal space. "I think you protest too much, Katniss," he purred, his mouth only inches from hers. "I think you want a nickname…"
Her eyes widened. "Fuck you, Peeta," she snapped, trying to shove him away, her small fists ineffectual against the solid wall of his chest. He grinned at her reaction and quickly pinned her hands above her head, enjoying her scowl and the fire that flashed in her quicksilver eyes.
"I think you do," he murmured right in her ear as she continued to struggle against him. "Do you want a nickname…" he paused briefly, considering what he could call her. He wanted to rile her up further, but not actually upset her, so 'Kat' was out. His lips curled up into a smirk as it came to him. "Do you want a nickname, Kitten?"
Her body stilled under him, her hands going slack in his. A jolt of panic ran through him, worried that he'd gone too far, but when he pulled back to look at her face he noticed her pupils were dilated, her pink tongue running over her soft peach lips while she looked at him expectantly.
"Holy shit," he thought, his cock twitching hard in his pants. Katniss wasn't upset. Katniss was turned on. He had no idea how far he could push her, but he wasn't going to waste an opportunity to find out. Lust took over, guiding his actions.
A soft smile claimed his lips and he shifted so that he was pinning both of her hands with only one of his, freeing his other hand to trace the soft skin of her jaw, the smooth expanse of collarbone left uncovered by her loose t-shirt. He slid his thigh between her legs, pressing firmly against her core. She responded immediately, rocking her hips against him.
"Do you like this, Kitten?" he drawled, his voice deep and gravelly. She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded mutely, silver eyes twinkling. She was enjoying the game he realized, not the nickname exactly, but the power shift. He kissed her and was taken aback by how passionately she kissed him back. When he crouched down and lifted her into his arms she wrapped her legs tightly against his waist, sucking the sensitive skin of his throat as he climbed the stairs to her room as quickly as he could.
He laid her back on the bed, pulling back only to lift his shirt over his head before pressing her into the mattress, crushing his mouth to hers. He made short work of removing her clothes while she squirmed and keened beneath him. His mouth trailed fire, suckling first one breast, then the other, before moving lower. When his face was level with her core she stiffened. They had been sexually intimate for months but she hadn't allowed him to use his mouth on her yet and he was desperate to do so.
"Peeta?" He heard the trepidation in her voice.
"Let me made you feel good, Kitten," he whispered, his hot breath ghosting across her slit. He could see her arousal glistening, he wanted more than anything to taste her, to feel her come around his mouth, but he wouldn't go any further without her consent. He pressed hot open mouthed kisses to her thighs while he waited. "Surrender, Kitten," he murmured and she cried out, her hips bucking upward, pleading for his mouth.
He didn't really know what he was doing but he understood instinctively that he needed to keep up the confident persona, that being tentative or hanging back looking for too much direction would only encourage her natural tendency to seek control. For this moment Katniss had dropped her walls, had trusted him completely.
She tasted even better than he'd imagined, sweet and tangy and a little musky, and her reactions were beyond his wildest fantasies. Their lovemaking had always been good, amazing really, but as she writhed and moaned and pulled his hair he could see that until now she'd been holding back. He thrust two fingers into her, hard, as he sucked her clit into his mouth and hummed, and she came harder than he'd ever seen, pulsing around his fingers and screaming his name with such abandon that he came in his jeans.
They passed out together in her bed, heedless of the fact that Prim was due home from school soon, basking in the enormity of what they'd shared.
Peeta pushed back from his seat so quickly that the others were startled. He mumbled an apology and bolted for the door, but not before making eye contact with her, and in those silver orbs, those fucking mirrors that showed him everything in her soul, he could read that she knew exactly what he was thinking. And she didn't bother to contradict him.
When, two days later, Cinna summoned them to yet another brainstorming session at Aber-Deen, Peeta used his golden tongue to beg off, convincing Finnick that he had an immovable deadline on another project. It was true, sort of. There was a six o'clock deadline, but he'd completed the work days earlier. Still Finnick bought it, only grousing that Peeta owed him a beer for making him face the dragon lady alone.
It was childish to avoid her; he knew that, but the pain of seeing her involved with someone else was too raw.
It was only an hour or so later when he received a call from the front desk, summoning him to the lobby. He wandered down without a thought, Lavinia, their receptionist, was a woman of startlingly few words, almost mute really, so he had no idea whether it was a courier from the copy shop or a girl scout selling cookies who awaited him.
Maybe he should have been surprised to instead see Katniss standing there. But somehow he wasn't.
"Hey," he said dully. Her mask was in place, her walls up, but her eyes flashed with what looked suspiciously like hurt.
"You didn't come to our meeting."
He averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck absently. "Ah, yeah, I had another project I needed to work on." Even now it was difficult to lie to her. She stood before him with arms crossed, and it seemed as if she was debating whether to call him on the lie, because he knew, without a doubt, that she could tell.
"Walk with me," she said in a voice that left no room for dissent.
"I can't, I'm busy," he snapped.
"Liar," she said simply and with no malice. Then, more softly, "Please walk with me."
His jaw clenched and unclenched as he waged an inner war, but he always gave in when it came to Katniss. Always had, probably always would. He blew out a forceful breath before moving around her to push the door open.
By the time Katniss dragged herself out of bed and downstairs that early December morning Peeta was pulling his third batch of muffins from the oven in the Everdeen's kitchen. Muffins and cookies and fruit breads and biscuits and even a pan of brownies took up most of the counter space in the small kitchen. He'd been baking for hours already, had hauled bags of flour and sugar and dried fruit over from the bakery long before the sun had risen and let himself in with the key she'd given him more than a year earlier.
"Peeta?" she questioned, startling him from his thoughts. He turned to her, his eyes rimmed red, his pain and exhaustion written in every line of his face. She ran to him, throwing her thin arms around his neck as he buried his face in her hair.
"She said no," he said flatly.
His mother had been gone two and a half years, and he hadn't seen her even once in all of that time. She was living in California, not far from where Brann went to school, and as far as he knew she hadn't once returned to Panem. But his father was insistent that Peeta and Rye try to re-establish a relationship with her, and he'd put aside enough money to fly both of them to California for Christmas break.
But she had refused to allow them to visit her.
Peeta had spent those years trying to convince himself that his mother had run from a bad marriage, that she didn't see him because she was so far away, that she seldom spoke with him (and never remembered his birthday) because she was busy trying to survive.
But to flat out refuse to see her two younger children? It was clear to Peeta then that his mother had wanted to escape more than her marriage. She wanted to escape him. Years and years of feeling like he wasn't enough had crashed down around him, and he had run to the only safe haven he had left; Katniss.
She helped him wrap up the spoils of his exhausted baking frenzy and tucked them neatly into the freezer, then led him wordlessly to her bedroom. Her tiny twin bed left no space between them as she cradled Peeta in her arms, his head against her chest, and she sang him lullabies until finally he'd fallen asleep.
And in the days and weeks that followed he found himself in her bed more and more frequently, nearly every night, she was the break wall to his tsunami of grief. She was the strength and stability that he needed as he struggled to put himself back together, mirroring the role he'd played for her years earlier.
And their bond, already so strong and deep, became immutable. They were more than friends, more than partners. They each held a piece of the other's soul.
They walked for blocks before finally she spoke. "I know what you're thinking, but it isn't like that. I'm not involved with Gale."
"It's none of my business," he interrupted, his voice sharp to hide the pain.
"No," she agreed, but with a hint of a question in her voice. "No," she repeated, "Maybe not, but it doesn't change the fact that there's nothing between me and Gale Hawthorne. He was Haymitch's right hand man, he knows the publishing house better than anyone else and he's been a huge help to me. That's all."
"I saw how he looks at you."
She blew out an exasperated breath beside him. "He was supposed to be the CEO Peeta, before I came along. That's what he's interested in, power and position. Not in me."
"Whatever," Peeta mumbled.
She stopped then, grabbing his arm to slow him and turn him to face her. Her eyes were soft and guileless. He understood in that moment not only that she wasn't keeping anything from him, but that for some reason it was important to her that he believe her.
He reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and simply said "okay."
Delly Cartwright was hosting a Christmas party, and not just a Christmas party, but a formal catered party, with a live band. Her parents were divorced and her mother had recently remarried, her new husband, Seneca Crane, was a lawyer and one of the wealthiest people in Panem. Virtually every senior at Panem High was going to this party at their mansion on the hill, and a large chunk of the underclassmen too.
Outwardly Katniss didn't care about parties, she always turned her nose up at any mention, but Peeta knew it was only because she'd been burned too many times, too many times she's truly wanted to go to a classmate's birthday gathering or barbeque or bonfire and been unable to because she'd needed to take care of Prim.
This time was different. Prim had been invited to a sleepover party at a classmate's house, something that was happening more often now, so Katniss couldn't use her as an excuse. And Peeta really wanted to go. He never pressured her into these things, but they'd always been able to read each other.
Katniss was particularly un-Katniss-like that evening; she was so excited that she was almost giddy. She was dressed up in a slim grey sweater and flowing skirt, her glossy raven locks braided into a crown, but her flushed cheeks and genuine smile were what made her utterly luminous. Peeta couldn't stifle the burst of pride he felt as the others stared at the gorgeous goddess on his arm.
He laughed as they entered the banquet room and her eyes bugged out at the tables and tables of food. "I want to taste everything in the room," she enthused.
"Then you'd better pace yourself," he'd admonished.
They were constantly sought out by friends and classmates, socializing in a way that Peeta hadn't been sure Katniss was even capable of, but she was brilliant. And they danced, song after song after song, swaying together in their own little world.
Peeta was certain it was the best night of his life.
They walked home together afterwards, hand in hand, it was a little more than a mile but the night was mild despite the lazy snowflakes that drifted down from the sky. Peeta thought that he wanted to freeze time and live in that moment forever.
How prescient that wish turned out to be.
They saw the flashing lights as they turned onto her street, just after midnight.
The rest of the night was a blur, filled with police officers and social workers. Peeta's father came at one point and took over, giving the authorities as much information as he could, helping to make the necessary calls. The story spilled out in bits and pieces; Prim hadn't felt well at the sleepover and had called home for a ride. For once Mrs. Everdeen was home, and had actually answered the call. How she even found her way to Prim's friend's house in her inebriated state was a mystery, but her drunk driving 'luck' ended on her way back home with Prim. Her car crossed the centre line of the highway and hit a truck head on, killing them both instantly.
The insistent buzzing of his phone as it vibrated across the bedside table jolted Peeta awake, and he cursed himself for not turning it off before falling asleep. The number was unfamiliar, but local, and in his sleep-addled state he answered without thinking.
"Hello," he rasped sleepily. He could hear shuffling or breathing on the other end, but no one replied. Great, woken from a sound sleep by someone pocket dialing he thought. "Hello?" he tried again, more awake and with a tone of annoyance. "Anyone there?"
He was just about to disconnect the line when she said his name, her voice tearful and wavery.
"Katniss?" He sat bolt upright in bed, squinting at the alarm clock. Just before three am. "Katniss, are you okay? What's wrong?"
There was a sniffle, and a pause, before she simply said his name again.
"Did you have a nightmare, Katniss?" His voice was soft, soothing. In another lifetime she often called him when her nightmares were bad and he'd talk her back to sleep across the blocks that separated their high school bedrooms, and the miles that separated their college dorms. But that was years ago, until this moment he didn't know she even had his cell number, nor did he have any idea where she'd have found it. Katniss made an affirmative noise, the sniffles turning into sobs. He settled back into the pillows and let himself slide into the calming role he'd perfected over so many years of her nightmares.
"Shhh baby, shhh, it's all right, it's over now, you're safe," he crooned in the calming voice he remembered she responded best to. He listened to her soft sobs and hiccups dissipate as he murmured gentle affirmations, comforting her more with just the sound of his voice than with the words he spoke. It wasn't very long before her heard her breathing even out and knew she'd fallen asleep. He left the line open and his phone on the pillow beside his ear and followed her into slumber.
When his alarm sounded in the morning the phone was still balanced on his pillow, but the call had been disconnected. There was a new text message from her though, which read simply 'Thank you Peeta'. He stared at the blue text bubble on his phone for a long time, trying to figure out what her call meant for them. In the light of morning he realized that it wasn't Hawthorne she had reached out to, and Hawthorne wasn't in her bed, at least not last night. Finally he tapped out 'You're welcome', leaving the ball firmly in her court.
Evelyn Everdeen's will hadn't been changed since before Prim was born, guardianship of 'the minor child Katniss Everdeen' was granted to Haymitch Abernathy, her mother's brother, an uncle Katniss had only met a handful of times over her life and who she had last seen six years previously at her father's funeral.
Haymitch owned a house the next town over, though he was rarely there, spending weekdays at his apartment in New York City, then flying home on the weekends. But despite his absence in her life to that point, and in spite of the demons he plainly fought, he was a surprisingly stabilizing force for Katniss. She moved into his house right after Christmas and he immediately bought her a small car so that she could continue her education at Panem High. He dealt with all of the funeral arrangements for his sister and niece, arranged for the Everdeen house to be sold and any possessions that Katniss might want in the future to be stored away, padding a trust account for Katniss with what little money came from her mother's estate. He hired a part time housekeeper to keep the house up and cook a few meals while he was away in the city, and Ms Sae became a grandmother figure to Katniss, keeping her company, making sure she ate, not allowing her to wallow in her grief.
It was clear that Haymitch hadn't known how bad Katniss's situation had been since her father died, and he seemed bent on making up for that. He got her to quit her job, providing her instead with an allowance more generous than her wages had been, so that she could concentrate her energy instead on studying. He more than supported her college dreams, and insisted on paying her tuition even though she would be eighteen in the spring and his guardianship would, technically, end at that point. He encouraged her to apply not to State, but to a top of the line liberal arts college near Boston which had the best creative writing program in the country.
And when May rolled around he was the one who told her that she had to go to prom, had to have the full 'high school stupidity' experience. He's the one who paid for her dress and rented both a limo and a hotel room. He's the one who warned Peeta about taking good care of his girl, even while he slapped the younger man on the shoulder affectionately.
The Aber-Deen re-launch party was held in a fancy little boutique hotel about a dozen blocks from the house Peeta shared with Annie and Finnick. Typical for industry parties, there was an open bar, a funky jazz quartet, black shirted waiters carrying trays of fancy hors d'oeuvres and champagne, and way too many 'industry insiders' who were only interested in the free drinks. Still, these kinds of parties were great opportunities for networking, so Paylor & Heavensbee had sent several top executives, along, of course, with Peeta and Finnick.
The black and gold theme that Cinna had come up with, which they'd incorporated into most of the rebranding, had been carried through to the party too. The invitations had requested black and gold attire for the attendees, the ballroom too was decorated in the theme, with black balloons and huge swaths of black tulle and gold lamée, it was elegant and a bit edgy, not unlike the company it represented. Not unlike the woman who headed it. Golden mockingbird symbols hung everywhere too, the sight of which gave Peeta a small pang as he thought of little Prim, who had been almost a sister to him for all of those years, and of Katniss and the life they once knew.
The space was filled with large boards displaying the new logos and advertisements, screenshots from the new online and e-reader platforms, and pictures of the new book covers and spines they'd designed. Seeing all of the work that he, Finnick and Cinna had done displayed together like that made Peeta's chest swell with pride, together they'd created an amazing and compelling image for an amazing and compelling company. Nothing about the process had been easy, but Peeta was feeling positive. He and Annie stood silently surveying the room while Finnick headed immediately to the bar.
"Quite the celebration," Annie said softly. Peeta nodded, eyes still scanning the room. Annie picked up on it. "Will Katniss be here?"
"Yeah, it's her company, and Cinna has been working on honing her image."
Annie nodded thoughtfully before continuing. "Will you see her again after this?" Peeta struggled to keep his face an indifferent mask but the truth was he didn't know. They had spoken some, and he knew there was still something there between them, but for every step forward he took with Katniss she would push one step back. And he wasn't going to chase her. He'd come too far in his own healing to chase her. So he simply shrugged.
It was spring break of their senior year of college, and all of their friends, everyone on campus it seemed, had gone south. Everyone but Peeta and Katniss. And while it might not have been as exotic as a cruise or an all-inclusive on the beach, spending the entire week in bed with his girlfriend was as close to paradise as Peeta could ever have dreamed.
They stayed in his off-campus apartment, baking cheese buns together, watching movies in their underwear and making love like the insatiable 21 year olds they were. He was proud that they had weathered the almost four years of college separation and were, if anything, even closer than they'd been at the end of high school. It hadn't been easy, but nothing in their lives had ever been easy anyway. With only a couple more months to go he was excited about their future together. Katniss had applied to grad school, and he was padding his portfolio, scoping out potential positions in the cities where she might go to school. Though they hadn't spoken extensively about it he knew they were ready to move in together, to share their lives wholly, and that filled him with lightness and joy. His mother and brothers were gone, his father hardly more than a shadow of the man Peeta once knew, but in Katniss he had a future, they would make a family together, the two of them to start, and maybe someday children of their own.
So when she confessed one evening, lying in bed, wrapped in each other, that she wasn't sure about graduate school he was supportive.
"I know it makes the most sense," she said, "And I know it's what Haymitch wants, for me to get my masters and then join his firm. It would be a good, solid job, would afford us a really nice lifestyle, stability…" she trailed off, and Peeta waited for her to gather her thoughts. "But I don't know if it would make me happy," she admitted softly. He leaned in to kiss her temple, soothingly.
"It's your life, Katniss. You have to do what's best for you."
"But Haymitch has been so good to me, Peeta! He took me in, fed me, paid for my school, my car, everything… how can I say no to working for him when I owe him so much?"
"Katniss, you don't owe Haymitch anything. You've spent your whole life taking care of everyone else's needs, now is the time to do what you want, what feels right for you. I'll support you in anything you want to do, and I'm sure Haymitch will too.
Finnick slid up next to him as he surveyed the room, handing Annie some kind of golden cocktail and Peeta a bottle of beer from the open bar, a fancy microbrew he'd never heard of. "Cheers, mate," he said. "Here's to the end of a hellish project."
"Wasn't really that bad, Finn," Peeta said with a smirk, knowing that Finnick wholeheartedly disagreed.
"I'd still be neck deep in it if it wasn't for you," Finnick said, affecting a serious tone. "You're the crazy client whisperer!"
Peeta rolled his eyes. "She's not crazy, Finn, she's really not. I wish you could see the real Katniss." He sighed. "I hope I'll see her again someday too."
His phone rang at five in the morning, and while he was still in bed the years and years of early wake ups for the bakery meant that he wasn't really asleep. Katniss's anguished voice on the other end of the line pushed away any vestiges of sleepiness.
"Peeta," she wailed, barely containing the choking sounds he knew meant she was sobbing.
"Sweetheart, what is it, what's wrong, where are you?" His words rushed out, wrapped in terror.
"I'm at the airport. Haymitch… oh God Peeta, Haymitch is dead!" She was full out sobbing and his heart broke both at her words and at her reaction. Haymitch was frequently drunk and belligerent, but he'd been surprisingly good to her since becoming her guardian and while Katniss had often butted heads with Haymitch they were all the family that each of them had left. But years of stress and alcoholism had taken their toll and his heart had given out. And now he was gone.
Peeta picked her up at the airport when her flight arrived and held her while she sobbed and sobbed. He drove her back to her empty house, fed her and held her while she alternated between raging at the world, and lying on the couch staring blankly at the wall. He was beside her as she made the phone calls to set Haymitch's funeral plans in action, and when she contacted the people who he had designated to take care of his affairs. Peeta dealt with her school and his, securing bereavement leave for both of them.
And he was with her that April morning when Haymitch was lowered into the ground, holding her hand tightly.
When they made love that night she was wild, almost desperate, writhing beneath him, leading him over the edge and barely giving him time to recover before she was riding him with abandon. He knew she was in agony and he willingly gave her his body to use, wanting to do anything to help her hurt less, even if only for a moment. But each time they had sex that long night she seemed to withdraw further and further, become more and more emotionally distant even as physically they were as close as possible.
She was straddling his lap as he leaned against the headboard, fucking him for the fourth time that night, her eyes screwed tightly shut when he stilled her hips and implored her to open her eyes. As soon as she made eye contact with him the tears began. She fell apart in his arms, apologizing over and over as he held her and kissed her and comforted her. They succumbed to sleep still joined.
He drove her to the airport the next morning to put her on a flight to Boston, back to school. She'd been quiet all morning, distant, but he knew she was exhausted and grieving so he didn't think much of it. She turned to him just before airport security and kissed him softly on the cheek.
"Peeta," she began, "I'll always love you, but I can't be with you any more." He was sure his shock registered on his face but she didn't react to it. "I'm toxic Peeta, and I'm fucked up, and you deserve better than this."
"Katniss, no, you're not making any sense, you're hurting and frightened and I completely understand that, but you just need time and you'll feel better, I promise." He ran his hands up and down her arms but her sad expression never changed.
A hush fell over the room as Katniss entered. For Peeta, time seemed to stand still. Cinna had dressed her in a gorgeous fitted gown that flared at the waist. At first glance it appeared to be a golden colour, in keeping with the black and gold theme of the night, but looking more closely the gown was covered in rhinestones that caught the light and appeared to flicker, almost like hundreds of candles. She was on fire. His breath caught in his chest as her eyes met his, the rest of the room fading away. He wasn't sure how long they held each other's gaze before Hawthorne pulled her away, breaking the spell.
"Wow," Annie said softly behind him. "She's even more beautiful than I remember." Peeta turned to her and the look that passed between them spoke volumes.
"Not nearly as lovely as you are a leannan," Finnick said devilishly as he wrapped his arms around his wife, nuzzling her neck as she blushed.
Peeta watched the two of them and felt, not for the first time, a stab of jealousy. That was supposed to be him and Katniss. She was supposed to be wrapped in his arms while they celebrated together.
His eyes found Katniss again. She was surrounded by a group of her executives, sipping a glass of champagne, and Hawthorne was all fucking over her. Peeta clenched his jaw as resentment coursed through him. Still, he watched. And as he did he began to see her more clearly, the discomfort that she was trying to hide but which radiated off her in waves. Anyone else might have seen it as her innate shyness making her uneasy in front of a crowd, but he knew her too well; even after their separation he could still read her. She subtly angled her body away from Hawthorne, finding excuses to move away from his roving hands, shrug off his arm around her shoulder by reaching out to shake a hand or touch an arm. She wasn't making a big production of it, but she was clearly spurning his touch.
A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie and he turned to face Cinna, who was the picture of elegance in a bespoke black suit and black shirt, open at the collar. A hint of gold eyeliner kept with the theme and brought out the amber highlights in his brown eyes, which were twinkling with mirth as he regarded Peeta. Smirking at him, Cinna said lowly, his words only for Peeta, "I'm still betting on her. I hope you are too." Then more loudly he continued. "Shall we greet our admirers Mister Mellark?"
After a whirlwind of greetings and small talk and photo-ops, Peeta finally had a moment alone with Katniss. She was flushed and glassy-eyed from the champagne, and while it worried Peeta he had to admit it made her all the more beautiful.
Her eyes flitted down to his lips and back repeatedly, and he knew in that moment that if he kissed her she'd respond. But he didn't. He wasn't going to push her, not here. "You look gorgeous, Katniss," he murmured, leaning in to instead softly brush his lips across her cheek. Her returning smile was dazzling.
"You clean up pretty nice yourself, Mellark," she observed, tugging gently on the golden ascot he wore under his black tuxedo. They gazed at each other, smiling, and for a few moments it was like old times, when they could communicate wordlessly, when they'd get lost in each other.
When Finnick came up to them to introduce Annie, Peeta was pleased that Katniss remembered his college roommate, even though they'd only met in passing a few times. Even more pleased that while the two women made easy conversation Katniss kept her hand tucked around his arm. For a while the four chatted comfortably, for a precious few minutes Finnick got to see his Katniss instead of the crazy client. And just for those few minutes Peeta let himself imagine what it would be like sharing evenings the four of them. Double dating even.
And then Hawthorne was back, dragging her away again.
He let her go. He hadn't wanted to, but she was hurting and upset and he thought he would just let her calm down for a day or two. After three days he started sending text messages, but none were returned. After a week he began calling, leaving message after message after message. After two weeks the messages were frantic, desperate, begging for her to call him back.
A little over three weeks after she left him his calls were met with 'the number you have reached is not in service'.
It was a nearly 5 hour drive to Boston, and he had classes he couldn't really afford to miss, but he jumped into his battered old Corolla anyway. When Katniss's roommate, Madge, opened the door to the off-campus apartment they shared she scowled at him.
"She didn't forget anything, so I don't know why you bothered dropping by." Peeta must have worn his confusion plainly because Madge furrowed her brow. "Didn't Katniss send you?" He shook his head slowly.
"I came to see Katniss, she hasn't answered my calls in three weeks, and this morning her phone is out of service," he said, a pleading note in his voice. Madge stared at him with pity in her eyes, then stepped backward into the apartment and gestured for Peeta to follow. She simply walked wordlessly to Katniss's room and threw open the door. The room was empty, save for a dresser. Peeta gasped, his mouth opening and closing, but none of the questions swirling in his brain would come out.
"I spent the weekend with my boyfriend," Madge said softly, "and when I came home Sunday evening she was gone. No note, no messages. I've tried calling and texting but she hasn't answered. I just assumed she'd gone with you."
Peeta leaned against the doorframe of the barren room, sucking in deep breaths, trying to quell the rising panic.
He and Madge spent hours that afternoon and well into the evening phoning everyone they could think of who knew Katniss and hearing the same stories, no one had seen her, she hadn't been answering her phone at all. When they finally reached one of Katniss's professors he informed them that she'd finished all of the requisite coursework and he didn't anticipate seeing her again until commencement, when she would pick up her degree.
It was then that Peeta and Madge stopped trying to track down Katniss. "I think," Madge said, "that she's disappeared on purpose. I don't think anything bad happened. She's just left us behind."
The for sale sign that appeared on the lawn of Haymitch's house a couple of weeks after cemented that theory.
By the time Madge texted him three months later to say that a friend had seen Katniss's name on the class list for one of his post-graduate classes at another Boston area college Peeta was already in France, beginning a new life.
Peeta had been watching Katniss all evening. Ever since he noticed Hawthorne plying her with alcohol he'd discretely kept tabs on her. She might not be the same girl she was two and a half years ago, but he knew how her family history had shaped her views on alcohol and was pretty sure that those views, at least, hadn't changed.
He was watching when Hawthorne stormed off, leaving Katniss alone. But not for long.
Alma Coin sidled up to Katniss, and Peeta saw the way Katniss's body tensed as the reporter began speaking to her, the almost arrogant sneer on Coin's face, he knew needed to act. He'd borne witness to Coin's antics when she was posted to the Paris division of the Capitol Post, knew how influential her often mean-spirited pieces could be. But he'd cultivated a relationship of sorts with the older woman, had figured out how to charm her and defuse her with nothing more than his words.
Katniss was raising her voice even before he got to her. She stopped speaking when Peeta's hand curled around her waist, her head whipping around, eyes narrowed at him, but he merely pulled her closer, reaching his right hand out towards a clearly startled Coin.
"Madame Coin," he began, turning on all of his charm, "Je suis tellement heureuse de vous revoir ce soir!" He saw recognition flicker in her cold, pale eyes, and her face stretched into a mockery of a smile.
"Monsieur Mellark, nous nous reverrons. Quel grand plaisir!" Her voice held a suggestive air, and when she held her hand out Peeta obliged, bending to brush his lips against it and looking up at her through his lashes.
"I didn't realize that you were back in New York Alma," he said, still smiling, his hand tightening around Katniss's hip as he sensed her looking for an escape route. "Would you mind terribly if I stole Miss Everdeen from you for a few moments?" He flashed Coin the smile that had gotten him out of so many tight places, the one that Finnick referred to as 'the panty scorcher'. She'd only just begun to nod when Peeta led Katniss out of the ballroom and onto a small patio where smokers normally convened, but which was empty. The door had scarcely closed when she turned on him.
"What the hell are you doing, Peeta?" she all but shrieked, pulling out of his grip and tottering unsteadily. He reached out to steady her, holding her upper arms firmly.
"Saving your ass, sweetheart," he managed through gritted teeth. He could hear the music and voices through the glass doors, and knew the people inside would be able to hear them just as clearly. The last thing he wanted after extracting her from one potential scene was to be part of another. Wrapping his arm around her waist he half dragged her away from the building, marching down the sidewalk. She fought him for a few blocks, maybe more, slurring curse words the entire way. He tried to shush her, but she was completely drunk and belligerent.
"Fuck, Peeta, knock it off, I don't need you to save me!" She was staggering now, the alcohol and heels at odds with the quick pace Peeta was walking. Finally she dug in her heels and they both stumbled and stopped. "You're not my mother!" she hissed.
"Neither are you, Katniss!" he roared, spinning to face her.
He watched her face as his words sunk in. The fury melted into shame, and briefly into terror. Then her whole body seemed to slump forward. He was there to catch her. She buried her face into his chest and he tentatively wrapped her in his arms. She cried softly against him as he stroked her hair. When he felt her shivering he briefly released her, wordlessly draping his tuxedo jacket around her shoulders before pulling her back into the safety of his broad chest.
"I'm so tired," she said softly. He was suddenly certain that she meant more than simply being worn out from the long day. He kissed the top of her head before releasing her.
"I'll flag down a cab for you," he said. "I'm sure you'll feel better once you're home."
"No!" she said sharply, startling him. "I don't want to go home!" She was almost petulant, like a child, looking up at him with mascara running down her face and defiance in those mercury eyes, but there was a pleading note in her voice. "It's so lonely there. Please, Peeta?" She reached for his hand and their fingers twined together, the way they had so many times before, fitting together as naturally as breathing the air. His heart clenched.
Despite his better judgement he acquiesced. She was too drunk and disheveled to take to one of the coffee shops that were ubiquitous in this neighbourhood. "My place is a few blocks away. Do you think you can make it?" She nodded and flashed him a little smile and they started walking again, much more slowly than before. She clung to his hand tightly and he could feel weeks' worth of tension start to dissipate.
As they walked he told her what he knew about Coin, about the exposés she'd written over the past two years, the damage she'd done to the reputations of some of France's elite. Katniss was quiet, listening wide-eyed. Even in her inebriated state she recognized that Coin could have undone all of the effect of Cinna's talents, all of her personal rebranding.
By the time they reached the narrow rowhouse that Peeta called home she was barely able to stay on her feet. He carried her up the stairs, fumbling awkwardly to unlock the door with her in his arms. Instead of dropping her on the couch he carried her up to the second floor, where his bedroom was, depositing her gently on her feet just inside the small bath.
"Why don't you splash some water on your face, and I'll get you some juice, okay?" She nodded, rubbing at her eyes carelessly.
When he returned with a glass of orange juice and a pair of Aspirin she was perched on his bed, the worst of her ruined makeup washed off and her hair pulled down from its elaborate updo, cascading around her shoulders in rumpled waves. She smiled and he sat beside her, fighting against the grin that threatened to spread across his face. He had never seen Katniss drunk before, and though he hated that the booze was responsible for her sweet smile and relaxed posture he adored seeing her that way.
A small, rational part of his brain was screaming that this was a bad idea. But he, too, was drunk, and he was sitting in a quiet room on his bed with the woman he had been in love with since before he even knew what that meant. And the way she was looking at him threatened to breach all of his defences.
For a while there was only chatting, the comfortable banter they had perfected over so many years. Then her hand was on his cheek and his hand was on her thigh. Then his hands were tangled in her hair and their lips were crashing together, passionate and needy.
Despite the years of separation neither ever forgot how to arouse the other. She knew that when she sucked on his bottom lip he would shudder in pleasure, he knew a gentle nip of her earlobe would make her mewl.
Her fingers trembled as she rid him of his tuxedo shirt and the t-shirt underneath. His were steady and sure as he dragged her zipper down her spine. But when she laid back on his bed in a bra and panties the soft orange colour of sunset he came back to himself.
"Katniss," his voice was little more than a pained whisper as he hovered over her, waging war with himself, lust and logic battling for dominance.
"Please, Peeta," she begged. "It's been so long."
"I can't… this… it can't just be one night Katniss. I can't do a one night stand. This can't just be fucking." The very word felt wrong, saying it about her.
"No," she murmured, leaning up to brush her lips against his. "It's only ever been you Peeta. I haven't been with anyone else. There could never be anyone else for me, Peeta. Only you."
"I… I'm still in love with you Katniss."
"I've always loved you Peeta."
Peeta's head was pounding, the light coming through his window stabbing his eyes through his lids. He hadn't slept this late in years, maybe ever actually. He rolled onto his side and cracked his eyes open, expecting to see a puddle of raven locks cascading over the pillows but instead he saw only the white of the sheets. His brow furrowed, and he propped himself up to look around the room. He was alone. The bathroom door was half open, the light off, empty.
He dragged himself out of bed, hastily grabbing a t-shirt and sweats from the drawer, noticing as he did that while his clothes from the night before were haphazardly strewn around the room hers were conspicuously absent.
The sense of foreboding grew as he descended to the main floor and found it silent and empty too. His tuxedo jacket was draped across the arm of the couch and a juice glass sat in the kitchen sink, but nothing else was out of place.
Peeta ran his hands through his hair as he climbed back up to his room. Had he imagined last night? Was it just another of the dreams he'd had about Katniss? Over and over for nearly two and a half years she had filled his every sleeping moment; in dreams, in nightmares. In fantasies.
He pushed his bedroom door open and strode back to the bed. But when he crashed into the bedsheets he was assaulted by that smell. The scent that had driven him fucking nuts for years, the smell of him and her and them. The smell of their sex. For a few moments he simply laid there, breathing in the rich, intoxicating aroma that their sweat slicked bodies and fluids had left on the pillows and sheets. He laid there enveloped in their scent, thinking of her writhing underneath him, of sliding so effortlessly into her wet heat, of the words that had fallen from her lips.
...only ever you, Peeta
I've always loved you Peeta.
The anger boiled up in him hot and fast, and his stomach roiled in agony and disgust. He barely made it to the bathroom before heaving over and over again, until there was nothing left but bile. He staggered back to the bedroom and tore the sheets from the bed, flinging them into the far corner. He opened the window wide, letting the cold autumn air suck the stench of their coupling from the room. But still it clung to him, to his hair and skin. He stormed back to the bathroom, turned the shower on as hot as he could tolerate it and scrubbed viciously, not stopping until the water had run cold and his skin was pink and raw.
He stumbled back to the bed, not bothering with a towel, and collapsed, wet and naked, onto the bare mattress. Shivering under the open window he curled into himself and surrendered to his heartbreak and self-loathing, crying like he hadn't cried in years.
He awoke hours later disoriented, cold and aching. A soft knock at his bedroom door registered over the pounding in his ears.
"Peeta?" Annie's gentle voice drifted through the wood. He didn't have the energy to reply. She must have known he was in there though, must have suspected that he was listening even in the absence of his acknowledgement because she continued. "I'm taking Finn to the airport now Peet. I'll be back around six. I'll bring take out for dinner, if you're up to it." He could hear the pity in her voice and he knew, in that moment, that she knew. Fresh tears pricked at the back of his eyes, but still he didn't respond.
It was only after the voices receded, only after the house shook with the force of the front door slamming then fell silent once more that he climbed out of bed again.
The faint rumble of his phone vibrating caught his attention. He reached for it, finding a pair of text messages from Finnick and one from Rye, but nothing from Katniss. Before he could overthink it he had dialed her number and was listening to it ring and ring and ring. He called three, four times before typing out a terse text message.
At least let me know that you're safe this time.
Barely a minute passed before her reply came in.
I'm fine.
He threw on his shorts and a windbreaker, double knotted his running shoes and ran.
The next morning he was hunched over the sink, scrubbing the last of the pans. The counters were, again, covered in baked goods: apple muffins and pumpkin breads and cinnamon rolls, the kitchen was hot and fragrant. Annie stood silently behind him, drying muffin tins and periodically rubbing gentle circles on his back. She knew him well enough to wait until he was ready to talk.
The silence was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. Peeta didn't even look up as Annie slipped away to answer it. He could hear her soft voice greet their visitor, louder than usual. She was warning him.
"Hello Katniss." Annie's words floated down the hallway. "It's lovely to see you again." He couldn't make out her response, but after a few moments he heard the creaking of the old floorboards as Annie and their guest moved back towards the kitchen. He didn't turn from the window until Annie called his name, and even then he turned slowly, wary of what was to come.
Katniss stood beside Annie, but not the polished CEO he'd been working with the past couple of months. She was wearing jeans and red sneakers, an orange sweater peeking out from under her jacket. Her hair was plaited in the simple braid she'd worn almost their entire childhood and her lovely face was free of any make up. His heart clenched painfully but he struggled to keep a neutral expression. For several long moments they simply stared at each other, until finally Annie spoke.
"Peeta, I'm going to take these over to my sister, I'll be a few hours," she said as she loaded some of the baked goods into a paper bag. She touched his arm. "If you need anything call me, okay?" Her meaning was clear; she was giving him privacy but she'd come right back if he needed her. He tore his eyes away from Katniss long enough to nod at Annie, who then practically sprinted out of the kitchen. He could hear the front door open and close only moments later.
Katniss was looking at the bakery's worth of pastries on the counters sadly. Perhaps she too remembered Peeta's way of coping with his heartbreak? He pulled himself out of his thoughts and let his innate courtesy kick in.
"Would you like something to drink? I was just making some tea," he said softly, tilting his head towards the kettle warming on the stove. When she nodded he busied himself pulling out cups and plating warm muffins. He turned to her, rubbing the back of his neck, still not able to meet her eyes. "Did you want to sit out on the deck? The oven has been on all morning, it's, uh, a little hot in here." She nodded again and he loaded the tea and treats onto a small tray and led her out the back door.
The best feature, he thought, of Annie and Finnick's rowhouse was the small wooden deck off the kitchen. There was no yard to speak of, but the deck was big enough to hold a barbecue and a table for 4. Annie had planted ivy and clematis and morning glories which climbed the wooden lattices and brick wall and made the space feel removed from the bustle of the city and the closeness of the neighbours. It was surprisingly quiet.
He set the tray on the small table but Katniss merely grabbed her mug (the one with sugar) and sat on the steps that led down to the tiny patch of grass, completely infested with dandelions despite the threat of frost. He followed, sitting beside her, his own mug steaming in the cool fall air. Their shoulders pressed together in the narrow confines of the stairwell. She still hadn't said a word and his nerves were strung tight as a wire.
He was lost in his thoughts, warring with himself about whether to confront her, finally, instead of simply sitting in cowardly silence when finally her voice softly split the air between them, snapping him out of his musings.
"When my father died I really believed it was my fault," she began. Peeta nodded, not in agreement, simply in remembrance. He had been there. It had been his shoulder that eleven year old Katniss had sobbed into that grey April morning, his voice that had murmured over and over again into her hair that it wasn't her fault, that she'd done nothing wrong, that she couldn't have prevented it.
"And Prim," her voice caught on the name, even seven years later the loss of Prim was a painful wound for both of them. "Prim's death was my fault too." Her bitterness coloured her words, and her self-hatred was clear, but Peeta pushed back his natural instinct to contradict her, to comfort her. None of this was new, and none of it explained why she'd used him then run away again.
"And then Haymitch," she whispered, abandoning her cup on the stair below. Still Peeta said nothing as he stared into his own rapidly cooling mug, and the silence stretched between them again.
"I'm so selfish inside, Peeta. So fucking selfish. And every time I let myself be selfish I destroy someone." Peeta stole a glance at Katniss, but she was staring off into the distance, her eyes glassy and unfocussed. "The weekend before my dad died," she continued, "he wanted to take me fishing. I loved spending time with my dad but that weekend I wanted to see a movie. I don't even remember what the movie was, just that I wanted to see it so bad, and my mother had promised she'd take me and Leevy. And when my dad said we were going fishing instead… I had a tantrum." Katniss was shaking her head sadly. "I just wanted to be a little girl instead of the son my father really wanted, just for a day. Just wanted to go to the mall and see a movie and eat popcorn. So I did. And then three days later my dad was dead.
"And the night Prim died… do you remember, Peeta? Do you remember where we were?" He nodded, though she wasn't looking at him. "I should have been the one to pick Prim up that night, Peeta. It should have been me instead of our drunken mother. And it wasn't, because I was out partying! Because I wanted to just for once feel like a normal teenager, just wanted to be a kid instead of a grown up taking care of a house and a child and an alcoholic. Because I was selfish!
"And the night before Haymitch died…" she trailed off and Peeta heard her choking back a sob. He wanted to comfort her, wanted to clutch her to his chest and chase away her pain but he needed, desperately, to hear what she had to say. She sniffled loudly before squaring her shoulders. "The night before Haymitch died I called him, and I told him I wasn't going back to school to take my Masters, that I didn't want to take over the publishing house. I… I'd applied for an internship at the New Yorker." She turned then and met Peeta's eyes, which were wide, his mouth hanging open. He hadn't known. "I killed him, Peeta. He took me in, he gave me everything, and I was so selfish. I just… I just wanted to write, to live my own dream and to be in New York with you instead of spending another two years in Boston. And when I finally admitted that to him he said he'd support me in whatever I wanted to do, but then he died! He fucking died and he fucking left me everything he had! He wanted me to be the daughter he never had and I threw it all back in his face with my own selfish desires!"
She dropped her face into her hands and Peeta couldn't hold back anymore, grabbing her and pulling her roughly into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly.
"I'm poison Peeta. I destroy everything I touch."
"No," he said firmly, his voice muffled in her hair. "None of that was your fault, Katniss. None of it. I'm sorry that all of this shit happened to you, I truly am. But none of it happened because of you. Your dad had an aneurysm; there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent his death. Your mom and Haymitch were both alcoholics, and they drank themselves to an early grave. That was their choice, Katniss! It was a shitty choice, but it was theirs to make, and there wasn't anything you could have done to change that." He took a deep breath, knowing the last part would be the hardest for her to hear. "And Prim, I know how much you loved Prim. I loved her too; she was like a sister to me! And you sacrificed everything for her. But she wasn't your responsibility Katniss. She was your sister, not your child. Her death was heartbreaking, but it wasn't your fault and there was nothing more you could have done! You kept her alive for years, when you were only a child yourself. And it sucks that she's gone, but you gave her the best life possible, she died knowing that you loved her more than anything."
They sat silently for a long time, Peeta never loosening his grip on her.
"I'm sorry I ran again, Peeta," she said against his chest. He stiffened, warring with himself again.
"Why did you do it Katniss?" His voice was soft, but the pain in it was unmistakeable.
"I panicked," she confessed. "Being with you these past few weeks, Peeta, remembering how much I've missed you. Remembering how incredible you are, how good and kind and caring. Remembering everything! God I missed you Peeta! You made me feel alive again. Made me feel like life could be good again. Then after, when I woke up in your bed, I was sure I'd fucked everything up again, being so selfish. I was sure you'd be the one to pay for my selfishness this time, you're the only one left I love. So I ran." She sat upright on his lap and their eyes locked.
"That's why I left last time too, Peeta. I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because of me. I… I hoped that if I stayed away from you that you'd be safe."
He shook his head in disbelief, Katniss was a brilliant woman, he couldn't imagine she actually believed herself responsible for any of the things that happened to her, couldn't fathom how she thought breaking him would save him. She seemed to sense his disbelief.
"I had a nightmare, after…" She swallowed noisily and twisted in his lap, looking away. "After we made love." Her voice was scarcely a whisper. "There was a fire, you were being burned alive, I couldn't get to you. And it was my fault. Because I was selfish."
He sighed deeply and pulled her back against his chest, his chin against the crown of her head, and rocked her while he gathered his thoughts. He'd been blinded by the strong, all-powerful dictator CEO persona, he'd failed to see the frightened, broken little girl who lurked beneath. The one he remembered, the one she always worked so damned hard to hide.
"You are the strongest person I have ever in my life met, Katniss," he started. She took a deep breath as if to begin a long argument but he pressed a gentle finger to her lips. "You are," he continued. "You've always managed things that people two and three times your age would have failed at." He paused to kiss her hair, her temple, before continuing more softly, his mouth aligned with her ear. "But you're not happy."
She turned to face him, their lips a hairsbreadth apart. He wanted to badly to claim them, to kiss and kiss and kiss her until she forgot her sorrow, but he wouldn't allow himself to get distracted again. "Do you remember, Sweetheart, when we were younger. Sometimes, not very often mind you, but sometimes…" he paused, struggling with the words. "Sometimes you'd let me help you."
"You helped me all of the time," she interrupted, her brows drawn together. He shook his head gently.
"I don't mean that you'd let me cook for you or drive Prim to the library. I meant that sometimes you'd let me shoulder some of your burden. Sometimes you'd let your walls down and trust me to take control, just briefly." Her eyes began to fill with tears and he moaned, giving in to the desire to kiss her, though he kept it chaste.
"Katniss," he pleaded. "Let me in, let me help you. Trust me again. I can't make you happy, but I can help you find your happiness, I know I can. You don't have to do this alone." Her nod was almost imperceptible but it was enough. She needed him, and this time he wouldn't fail her.
It wasn't smooth, and it wasn't easy, but nothing in their lives had ever been. He found her a psychiatrist, and though she balked (and threw a vase at him) she eventually acquiesced. Dr. Aurelius helped Katniss with her grief and her fear, guiding her past the survivor's guilt that kept her from allowing herself any happiness. He taught her to stop punishing herself for things that were beyond her control. He taught her to ask for, and accept, help. Eventually he counselled Katniss and Peeta jointly too, teaching them to communicate, teaching her not to run and him not to hide.
They put their relationship back together, piece by piece over many months. They had to learn to trust each other, to refrain from falling into their old roles. They started talking and sharing, going on dates like normal 24 year olds, expanding their social circle jointly and as individuals. There were fights, times when she froze him out, overwhelmed by the vulnerability of letting him in, times when he was miserable because he was too afraid to assert his own needs. But together they learned. Together they built a strong, healthy, balanced relationship. They began, cautiously, to plan a future, together.
They'd meant to take the sexual part slowly too but both found they couldn't. In bed they had always been better communicators, been more open about their needs and fears, had always found it easier to drop their control-freak and people-pleaser personas. In bed she could be open, even weak, and trust that he wouldn't let her fall. In bed he could be confident, could take pleasure, and trust that she wouldn't hold it against him. The spectre of the people who had shaped them and hurt them and failed them fell away and together they healed.
When the first dandelions of spring started to pop up through the cracks in the pavement Katniss moved in with Peeta more or less permanently. She'd already been staying with him most nights, developing a deep friendship with both Finnick and Annie despite their uncomfortable past.
A few months later she began to clean out the rooms in Haymitch's old apartment, which had been sealed since his death. She'd inherited the place, along with everything else Haymitch owned, but had only moved into it after graduation, and had only used the bedroom that had been hers and the kitchen, everything else she'd simply closed off and ignored for almost three years. Peeta held her as she cried and cried, looking through pictures and mementos, pieces of Haymitch's life and pieces of her own lost childhood that Haymitch had tucked aside for her after her mother's death. Peeta helped her decide what to keep and what to get rid of, helped her clean and paint the unit and finally helped her list it for sale.
That fall they bought a small condo together, the third floor of a converted brownstone. It had a gourmet kitchen and a spare bedroom with floor to ceiling windows for Peeta's painting studio. Making art for himself, and eventually for commissions, boosted Peeta's confidence immensely.
Just after Christmas Katniss announced her intention to step down as CEO of the company she'd inherited from Haymitch. Industry insiders were shocked, she had only held the CEO position for a year and a half, and had been incredibly successful in that time. Peeta wasn't surprised; they'd discussed her career extensively and had planned for months, along with Dr. Aurelius, the steps she needed to take to find fulfillment in her work. She'd been an effective CEO but it had never made her happy. Gale Hawthorne stepped into the CEO role and Katniss took over as director of talent recruitment, a job that both better suited her interests and left her with more hours to pursue her own writing.
Life was good, they lived in a city they loved, had jobs they enjoyed and time to indulge in their artistic passions. They were happier and more in love than Peeta had ever imagined possible. But there was one thing missing.
He was waiting at the station when she got off the train. They tried, as much as possible, to commute together, but he was working on a project closer to home that month.
The walk to their house was quiet. Katniss seemed tired, Peeta was obviously nervous, a kind of unsettled energy thrumming around him as he strolled through the streets of their neighbourhood.
"Peeeeeeta..." She said in a sing-song voice. "What are you hiding? You know you can't keep any secrets from me, I can always tell..."
He smirked at her. "Not a secret, just a surprise. You'll know soon enough."
She groaned. "Better not be a surprise party, Peeta, you know I hate those things." She was scowling, her twenty-seventh birthday was only 3 days away and she must have guessed that was at least partially behind his secret keeping. While he understood her trepidation he wasn't going to let her spoil her surprise, he'd worked too hard on it. He was grateful when she didn't push him any further.
When they arrived at the house everything was dark. He held her hand as they made their way up the walkway. As they reached the door she turned to him.
"I swear to God if anyone jumps out at me yelling surprise I'm going to break your nose." He laughed; pleased that she remembered the last time they'd had a discussion similar to this one. She was grinning too, but he had no doubt that she was serious. He knew her too well though, knew how much she hated being the centre of attention. No, his plans for her were decidedly more low-key.
He directed her to get changed out of her suit, and when she was done led her out onto their small balcony.
Strings of white lights were everywhere, wrapped around the railings and hanging from the wall. Their small patio table was set with candles and flowers, and a basket of cheese buns covered with a cloth napkin sat in the middle. Soft music drifted from his iPhone docking station. And overheard a million stars twinkled in the moonless sky. Her breath caught in her throat.
"You have a remarkable memory," she said, smiling that soft smile that she only ever showed to him. The one that made him love her.
They ate the dinner he'd prepared and danced, the balcony only big enough for the sort of swaying they could almost do on a pie plate, but neither cared. And when the music ended he dropped to one knee, fishing from his pants pocket the ring he'd been hiding from her for months.
Peeta was happy when Daddy picked him up from school. Kindergarten was only a half day, so he picked Peeta up in the car, and said they were going out for a special lunch to celebrate his very first day of school, just the two of them while his older brothers were still in class.
Over French fries and a milkshake Peeta told his daddy all of the fun things they'd done, the giant easels with smocks and real paint, the room where they could play ball inside on rainy days, and most importantly, all about his new best friend, Katniss.
Driving back to the bakery after lunch Peeta was drowsy from the excitement and food, and nodded off. When Graham reached over to gently pull Peeta's thumb from his mouth, Peeta's eyes flew wide open. "Daddy," he said softy. "I think one day I'm going to marry Katniss Everdeen."