It is fucking 3 in the morning when the alarms sound. Needless to say, she isn't happy. Katniss had literally just crawled into bed half an hour ago and she had planned not to leave the bed for two days, college classes or no.
Burning to death sounds like a fantastic option right now.
Nonetheless, she drags herself out of her warm comfy bed into the cold frigid air. She grits her teeth as she searches in the dark for her coat, finally finding it tossed under her bed.
Quickly she puts it on, shivering in the cold, as she fumbles for the door knob. She follows the large throng of grumpy, sleep deprived students, shuffling down the corridor towards the stairs. The walk down is mostly silent, with everyone struggling to keep their eyes open and not trip and fall down the stairs.
There's a slight lag at the door opening towards the courtyard but someone throws it open and the students march outside. She feels like crying already, as the cold wind hits her in the face.
"Stabbing me would be so much better," she mumbles to herself.
She heads for the furthest corner of the courtyard, knowing that the shelter from the wind is better there. Katniss throws herself onto the frozen sidewalk, and wraps herself even more tightly within the coat. The fire drill could last anywhere from an hour to three, so she might as well sleep as much as she can.
Tomorrow, she decides, I'm skipping all my morning classes.
Despite the cold, her eyelids are starting to droop and she stops herself from yawning once or twice. She snuggles deeper inside the cold and she has just started to doze when she catches a glimpse of someone walking towards her.
She shuts her eyes fast, praying that the person coming over doesn't expect any form of conversation and will at least believe she is sleeping or be kind enough to pretend to believe she is sleeping.
"Hi." No such luck then.
She's grumpy and she's tired so she isn't really in the mood to be nice. So it's no surprise to her when the next words to come out of her mouth are, "Fuck off."
She can see through her half closed eyes that the guy has retreated slightly, hands up as if in surrender. His face colours in embarrassment and he bows his head.
Satisifed, Katniss fully closes her eyes again. She pulls her legs up and rests her head on her new pillow, ready to drift off.
But it's just a bit too cold, even in her coat and she shivers slightly. To her surprise, an additional coat is draped over her. She jerks up to glare at the offending person, who turns out to be her stranger. He sits down beside her and decidedly does not make eye contact.
It might have been a violation of her personal contact but the additional warmth is, in fact, welcome so she keeps her mouth shut and draws the extra coat around her. Now, she is comfortable enough to sleep.
It isn't long before she finds herself fully asleep, dreaming pleasantly of nothing in particular. The warmth is sinking in and she falls even deeper into dreamland.
Of course, nothing in her life remains good for long because she is rudely awakened from her slumber again by the crashing of metal grates. She refuses to move from her temporary spot of warmth and she turns her head and burrows it in a warm shoulder.
Wait, shoulder?
She lurches upright, staring horrified at the shoulder that had been apparently been her pillow for the duration of the fire alarm. Slowly, she hesitantly drags her eyes upwards to land on the face of her stranger.
Her finger darts upwards to touch the corner of her mouth before she relaxes a miniscule amount. No drool, good.
"Um, sorry," she says. "For the shoulder, and, er, just now." It probably wasn't very polite to tell a complete stranger to fuck off.
"S'okay," the stranger mumbles. Katniss gets up and turns around to face the guy. She hesitates for a second before offering her hand to pull him up.
"I'm Katniss," she says.
"Peeta," he returns.
They shuffle awkwardly next to each other, as the courtyard slowly empties. Katniss jabs a thumb over her shoulder at the disappearing masses. "I should, um, go," she says.
"I'll walk you to your room," Peeta suddenly bursts out, before he flushes red again. A small smile graces Katniss' face, and she jerks her head towards the dormitory.
The walk back is somewhat awkward, shattered only when they are halfway to Katniss' room by Peeta suddenly says, "So what do you study?"
"Environmental sciences, you?"
"Um, culinary arts."
The conversation doesn't seem like it might go much further but Peeta suddenly begins talking about an event that happened during Christmas, two years ago. It involves an overcooked chicken, a misplaced pet mouse, unfortunate touching of unfortunate places and a whole lot of screaming.
From start to end, the story grows more and more ridiculous and by the time the duo reaches Katniss' room, her sides are aching and her cheeks hurts from laughing so much.
"Wait wait wait, so you're saying the mouse ran up the chicken's?" she can't even finish her sentence, she is laughing too hard.
"Yup," Peeta agrees with a smirk on his face, sending Katniss into peals of laughter.
They have walked to Katniss' room and she struggles to get her giggles under control as she greets Peeta goodnight.
Just as she is turning the door knob, Peeta suddenly bursts out, "Wait!"
He licks his lips before the words escape from his mouth. "My friends are holding a Christmas party tomorrow, do you want to come or something?"
Her fingers hesitate on the door knob. Peeta was nice enough to let her sleep on his shoulder, not to mention he doesn't seem especially put off by her swearing at him.
She has seen him around, she considers, and he does seem like a fairly nice person. "Yeah, why not?" she decides and she watches a smile grows across Peeta's face. She feels warm, but unlike just now where she was warm from the coat, she feels warm from the satisfaction and happiness of having put the smile on Peeta's face.
"Yeah, yeah, cool, okay," Peeta says, stumbling over his feet as he moves backwards. "I'll pick you up tomorrow? At 9?"
Katniss nods in agreement as she steps inside her room. "Okay then," she says as Peeta turns to go back to his room. "Night, Peeta."
"Night."