Author's Note: Here is yet another Hunger Games one-shot that has been on my mind for awhile. I just really enjoy writing about Peeta and Katniss, so I hope you guys enjoy! (:
Katniss trudged into her bedroom after a long day of hunting with Gale. It was Sunday night, and the only day of the week that she had a chance to see her best friend. That was solemnly the reason why Katniss' mother didn't mind when Katniss came crawling back into the house in the wee hours of the night.
The sky was a dark shade of purple as the bright moon lit up the surface. Katniss' curtains were open, so she could see the faint flint of rise reflecting through her window. She loved when the moon shone brightly like this.
Her body was exhausted; she just wanted to fall into a warm bubble bath and then hide away from the world in her sheets, falling into a deep sleep. Hopefully, she'd even be void of any hectic nightmares. Most likely, the odds wouldn't be in her favor.
She absentmindedly paced her room, her eyes lingering toward the window. From across the lawn, she could clearly see the side of Peeta's house. She saw something that she hadn't noticed since she had moved into the Victor's Village. Peeta's bedroom window was right across from hers.
His curtains were open, and his desk lamp was on, so Katniss could faintly see his body hovering over a wooden canvass. He was working diligently on a painting of some sort, but Katniss couldn't see what the painting was.
She inched closer to the window and crouched down, suddenly feeling as if she were violating his privacy by looking at him. She didn't know how awkward she would feel if he noticed her just freely staring at him through her window. The feeling was kind of enchanting, though. She never got the chance to see Peeta while he was working on some of his famous paintings, and it amused her to see how hardly focused his features were. The way his ash blonde hair fell over his forehead, adding effect to his squinted eyes that were so focused on the master piece he was unfolding. The way his slightly chapped lips were parted in concentration, his brow furrowed. It surprised Katniss that she could make all of this out from yards away; Maybe the glass cleaners should be tipped she thought playfully.
Without warning, Peeta's head snapped toward Katniss' window. Out of hesitation, Katniss ducked. Her pulse had picked up, and she hoped that she had not been caught. After seconds of huddling down on the ground, she inched her head up, chancing her luck. Much to her dismay, he had risen from his chair and was now leaning over the edge of his window, lifting it up. Katniss exposed herself fully, smiling embarrassingly at him. He had a playful grin on his face as he motioned for her to open her window. She obliged, easily sliding the thick glass up.
"Looks like we've got ourselves a neighborhood watch!" Peeta joked, shouting loud enough so that Katniss could hear him. Katniss could feel the heat behind her ears and she knew that they were probably beet red.
"Maybe you shouldn't keep your curtains wide open next time!" Katniss retorted, resting her elbows on the window pane. He shook his head as the grin remained on his face.
"Yours were open for hours," he responded, giving her a dominant smirk.
"Now look who's the neighborhood watch," she joked, trying her hardest to keep the serious edge to her tone. Peeta shrugged and mirrored her action of relaxing his elbows on the window pane. He looked up at the glistening moon, the brightness reflecting through his blue orbs. It fascinated Katniss at the detail that she seemed to notice about the boy that night.
"What a beautiful night," he said after a minute. His voice was so calm that Katniss could barely hear the words that he was saying. She nodded in agreement and allowed her eyes to linger on the canvass behind him. He tore his eyes away from the moon and looked back over at Katniss.
"What are you painting?" she asked curiously. Peeta hesitated, his face falling a bit. If she were correct, she could make out the slight shade of pink that lit up his face.
"Oh...uh... it's nothing, really," he muttered, returning his eyes on anywhere but Katniss. She narrowed her eyes and stood upright.
"Why won't you tell me what you're painting?" she asked confusedly, giving him the eye. He laughed uneasily and shook his head.
"It's not that big of a deal," he responded, shrugging once again. She sucked her teeth and closed her window, leaving her curtains open. She wanted Peeta to see what her next move was. He noticed that she was leaving the room, and his eyes widened. What on Earth did she have in mind?
Katniss was now determined to see what Peeta was painting, and she wanted to know why he was being so hesitant to tell her. The possibilities of what the baker could have been painting were swarming her mind. She strutted quietly down the stairs, her eyes fixed on her front door. She opened it swiftly and bolted out of the house, briefly forgetting about the woodsy sent that she carried.
Once she had made it halfway toward Peeta's back door, she paused. His mother. She was a human witch. If she knew that Katniss was plotting on her visiting her son's bedroom, all hell would break loose. Before Katniss could think about it any further, the door swung open. Thankfully, it was Peeta who opened it. He folded his arms across his chest and sighed heavily.
"How did I know you'd be standing there?" he asked. She gave him a cocky smirk and drifted past him, his eyes widening a bit. She checked thoroughly to make sure that the coast was clear before hopping up the staircase that was only a short distance away. He followed after her, his heavy feet clunking up the stairs. She winced as she got up the stairs, staring around at the numerous doors.
A door was cracked slightly, and she automatically assumed it to be Peeta's. She burst through the door, relieved to see the wide opened window and the mahogany desk with the lamp accelerating low lighting around the room. Peeta hurried behind her, his breaths coming out hitched and shallow.
"Now Katniss... before you look at it..." he began, silently cursing himself for not hiding it before he skidded down the stairs.
"It can't be that bad," Katniss said, walking over to the canvass that was facing away from her. She used both of her hands to turn it toward her, gasping lightly at what she saw. It was a painting of...her. It wasn't just any ordinary painting of her, though. It was a picture of her as a measly 10 year old, her hair down in two perfectly woven braids. Her lips were pierced out naturally, her dark gray eyes appearing radiantly striking on the paper. Her olive skin tone was captured beautifully, and the dark green dress that Peeta had painted had really complimented her brunette hair color. She was completely at loss for words. She didn't know whether to feel elated or frightened at the display; she was a bit overwhelmed. Out of all of the things that Peeta could have painted, he chose to paint her. Katniss couldn't even remember how she looked at that age, and she was surprised that somehow Peeta could.
"Say something," Peeta said, studying her face. She tore her eyes away from the painting and looked into his ocean blue eyes.
"It's... beautiful," she finally said, looking away from him. She tugged at her bottom lip and drifted her eyes back to the painting. For some reason, it sent a warm feeling down her body. She was flattered at the thought of him painting her.
"I hope you aren't freaked out by it. I was just remembering the times in school when... you had your hair in two braids instead of one," he said, repeating the words that he had spoken to her in the cave. She looked down at the braid sitting on her shoulder and fiddled with the end of it. She looked back up at Peeta and nodded slowly.
"That's really nice of you," she whispered. He gave her a small smile and slowly took a seat on his bed. She noticed the flawlessly white T-shirt he wore with some gray sweat pants. He looked as if he had taken a refreshing shower, content and comfortable in his skin. She stood there with dirt stained pants, a sweat covered shirt with her fathers hunting jacket over it, messy hair, and she was sure that her boots were tracking up Peeta's house. She instantly felt insecure and out of place.
"I should leave," she said, making her way toward the door. Peeta shot up and ran after her, grabbing her arm softly. She turned to him and sucked in a breath.
"Don't," he pleaded, giving her a reassuring smile. "I haven't had the chance to show you my other artwork. While you're over here, you might as well see them," he encouraged. She looked down at his hand that was still wrapped around her elbow and sighed in defeat.
"Sure," she said, forcing a genuine smile to him. He pulled his hand away and she almost frowned at the loss of warmth that his arm radiated to her. He walked over to his dresser and carefully pulled out his sketchbook, reclaiming his spot on the bed. He looked up at her and patted the spot next to him.
"But I'm all sweaty..." Katniss said awkwardly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He smirked and shook his head, patting the spot beside him again. Finally, she walked over to where he sat and took a seat beside him. He didn't seem at all bothered by her outdoorsy scent or ragged appearance. He flipped open the book to the first page and a smile spread across Katniss' face. It was a simple picture of a Mockingjay with so much detail that you'd think that there was actually a bird on the paper.
"W-wow, Peeta... this is... this is just..." Katniss was at loss for words. No amount of praise could do this drawing justice. He noticed the expression of awe on her face, and that was enough to give him a feeling of pride. He flipped the page again, and she saw that it was a self portrait of himself. It was in black and white, but it didn't take away any of the specialty of the artwork. It was flawless, just like him.
"This took me a while to do. I'm not exactly good with drawing pictures of myself," he said, giving a slight chuckle at the end.
"Well this is just amazing," she breathed, looking up at him. He smiled warmly and continued to flip the pages. There were numerous pictures of sunsets, Peeta's family, random objects and venues, and even one of a decorative cake that he made. It made Katniss envious of his many talents, and she was happy for him.
By the time they had finished going through most of his pictures, it was darkening rapidly outdoors. The dark clouds had ghosted in front of the moon, and the once beautiful, crystal ball was now a dark gray object in the sky. Katniss sighed heavily and handed the book back to Peeta.
"I should really go. Those pictures were very nice, and the painting... I can't even express how flattered I am," Katniss said softly, giving him a smile. She inched her lips to his tanned cheek and pecked it lightly, his eyes widening in excitement. Even though it was just a tiny kiss, it was a kiss nonetheless. It still made his heart beat a little faster than usual.
"There's more where that came from," he told her, smiling cheekily. If painting pictures of Katniss earned him kisses, he'd paint until his fingers fell off. He could see the scarlet shade covering her cheeks as she eagerly tried to hide her face away from him. This wasn't the hard, fierce, intimidating Katniss that everyone knew. This was a different side of her that only Peeta could seem to bring out, and he liked it that way. It made the wait for her heart all the more easier.
"I hope to see you soon," she whispered, standing to her feet.
"Me too," he responded, mirroring her action. They stood and looked at each other for a while before Katniss cleared her throat.
"Goodnight," she said, walking toward the door.
"No hug?" he asked, faking sadness. She rolled her eyes playfully and walked over to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. His embrace was tight, but soothing at the same time. His arms were the only ones that were really familiar to her. They were there to cradle her during those nights in the cave, and gave her a sense of safety. She allowed herself to get lost in the feel of his softness, allowing the hug to last longer than she'd expected. He smirked as his hands slid down her back, resting at her hips.
"You should stop by for a cookie tomorrow," he mumbled into her hair, closing his eyes.
"What kind of cookie?" Katniss wondered, her lips pressed against his neck.
"You'll find out if you come over," he laughed, absentmindedly tightening his grip on her. He never wanted the hug to end. She smiled timidly and awkwardly pulled away, staring up at him with sincere eyes.
"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow," she told him, reclaiming her spot by the door. She gave him one last wave before opening the door and closing it quietly after her. He couldn't help the wide grin that was planted on his face as he anxiously awaited Katniss' visit tomorrow.
Author's Note: Alright, so this was originally supposed to be a one-shot but I'm CONSIDERING doing one more chapter. That depends if I get enough reviews, so let me know what you guys think! Thanks! (:
