The Secret Life of Bees
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belong to Ms. Suzanne Collins, Scholastic, and Lionsgate Entertainment. The Secret Life of Bees belongs to Sue Monk Kidd. That Teenage Feeling belongs to Neko Case (and I recommend highly that you check out her body of work. It's like she's channeling Katniss Everdeen).
Thanks to: SavannahHershey, my beta and fangirl-in-crime, and orea domina!
Ships: Katniss/Peeta, (Haymitch/Effie, Delly/Thom, Gale/OC)
Summary: Katniss tries to find a new hobby and find more ways to be with Peeta in the wake of her confession.
Rating: M for mature language, violence, and explicit sexual situations.
A/N: Many of you have asked how The Secret Life of Bees comes into the story at this juncture. I think it's very difficult, if not impossible, for Katniss to hunt like she used to before the Games, after everything she's been through. In particular, I think it really resonates with her when Gale tells her that hunting people is just like hunting animals. I also love how she and Peeta discuss how callously and recklessly they've taken human life in Mockingjay. I think she's grown up and changed, and while she loves the idea of hunting, she just can't bring herself to do it, because she is forever scarred. So she needs to find something else to do—which is what she is trying to do here. Katniss is also scared of her continued attraction to Peeta, so she's dealing with teenage hormones, too. Oy. Thanks for your reviews and support—please read and enjoy!
Chapter 4: That Teenage Feeling
Now that we've met,
We can only laugh at these regrets.
I awake in my bed, all alone (save my covers). Sucks to me, I think. I try to remember what I'd been dreaming about. Nothing in particular. I grope the side of the bed next to me. Nope, still alone. I swing my feet over the side of the bed and hit the hardwood running. I run to my shower and turn the hot water on full blast, even if it is already eighty degrees outside and humid and muggy. I want everything to burn off of me and evaporate into hot mist like nothing and then go away when I turn the fan on. I can't face him after yesterday. If I see him, I'll become a hot mess, and I'm too proud for that. Nay, too good for that. He's not a saint. But he's pretty damn close. Now I'm thinking that I need a cold shower when I think about his body against mine. THINK UNSEXY THOUGHTS. I know that I have to face him at breakfast. For some reason my cheeks burn at this idea and my body flushes. Stupid body. He's so pretty. He makes me want to touch myself the way I so want him to touch me. I think hot showers should be illegal for the time being. I step out, I gasp (as I always do) at the cool air, and I dry off. I brush my hair today, and spray something in it that Octavia said would make it stronger AND grow faster. The Capitol and its promises.
Common as a winter cold,
They're telephone poles.
Making my way downstairs, I decide that breakfast smells pretty great. Frying meat generally turns me on. I'm happy that Sae has returned. I'm happy that Peeta made biscuits. For the first time in my life, I'm rendered pretty speechless. I come into the kitchen, and Peeta is crawling around on all fours, playing with Sae's granddaughter. She's simple, but loves playing with Peeta. He catches her in his arms and showers her with sweet kisses. I'm not jealous. AT ALL. He reminds me of the way my father used to play with Prim and me, and my mother would smile at us.Sae says something about being glad that I'm not screaming this morning, and she leads her granddaughter out by the hand. Peeta is still panting on the floor, leaning against the cupboards. I lose my voice, again.
"Good morning," he says pointedly.
I choke back everything. "Morning." Am I always this difficult? Likely. I'm not one for the mornings.
"Sleep okay?"
"Okay. And you?" He smiles, and it breaks my heart. He's going to say something really nice.
"I slept," he says after a moment, his eyes clouding as he cracks his knuckles. A smirk creeps across his face.
They follow each other, one, after another-
After another.
Usually, Greasy Sae and her little granddaughter stay with us for breakfast, and Haymitch falls through the door, desperate for sustenance after his latest bender. We've done this every morning since Peeta came home. This morning, it's just the two of us. You could cut the tension with a butterknife. We always have one cup of coffee each, and I am careful to remember that he doesn't take sugar. I like having some sweetness in my life.
"What are you-" I begin to say, and Peeta cuts me off.
"It's no good pretending that yesterday didn't happen, Katniss," Peeta says, buttering his biscuit with all seriousness.
"It did," I admit quietly, "I won't deny it."
"Today is most emphatically NOT a normal day."
"It could be…" and I trail off into my coffee. What is it with Peeta always making points? Before I know it, he's on my side of the table, grasping my hands so tightly that I think blood flow is an issue. His eyes are all doom and gloom. I've fucked up again.
"Today isn't a day like any other day that you've had here," he says harshly, "What have you done today that makes you feel proud?" I put my sausage down.
"I DON'T KNOW, I JUST WOKE UP. LAY OFF, ALREADY." I immediately regret my last words. He doesn't deserve to get yelled at. I lean forward and brush my lips against his. He tastes like butter. This isn't fair. And then out of nowhere, he laughs. Here I am, terrified that I'll break him, and he's laughing. He is blushing. I am making him blush.
But now my heart is green as weeds,
Grown to outlive their season.
"You taste like sausage," Peeta gets out between his laughs. "Your technique leaves something to be desired." At this moment I push away from the table to bolt, but Peeta holds me tight. "Seriously. What do you want to do today?" My head hangs limply in my hand. I can't think of anything to say except that I really like staying in his arms, where he keeps the nightmares away. In fact, it should be strange that I want to stay in his arms; until yesterday, we hadn't made any physical contact since the rebellion. And now I wanted to suck his face off at the kitchen table. For shame.
"I want to contribute," I answer slowly. He takes a sip of his coffee—his arms are so long that they can reach across the table—and rubs my back at the same time. "I don't want to hunt," I add weakly, for good measure. Stop this right now, Katniss Everdeen, I scold myself. Don't let him in and make you vulnerable. But what if I kind of like it? I push those thoughts from my mind.
A smile flickers briefly cross Peeta's face as he furrows his brow and loosens his grip around my back, then pressing his forehead to mine. "You're more than a hunter, Katniss Everdeen. You know more about the forest and its secrets than anyone."
Not more than my father. I swallow, hard. Peeta might never understand my connection and relationship to the forest. He's such a city-slicker. His eyes are staring into my own so earnestly—he's searching for an answer. He's searching for a sign that I am alive, that I'm alive and kicking.
And nothing comforts me the same
As my brave friend who says:
"I'll find something," I finally sigh, "Flowers, and shit." He nods, and pulls his plate over to our side of the table, never letting go of my hand. We do the dishes in silence. I finally have the courage to tell him that his biscuits are better than anything we had in the Capitol.
"Thanks," he says, "good to hear." In this moment, I don't want Peeta to leave. He always goes into town in the morning. Then he comes home and bakes, or he paints. I have not seen his new works of art, but I can see him working on them from my windows. Today, I just want to stay with him. I have no desire to go into the woods and find myself—or this evening's dinner—and I just want to stay by his side. Like a sick puppy. Or a seagull and its rock. He pulls me closer to him. He smells like breakfast. "I'll be here when you get back," he nuzzles into my neck. To think, just a short time ago we regarded one another as—what are those things that Haymitch rambles on about?—oh yeah, lepers. And now we're molesting each other in the kitchen.
"I don't care if forever never comes
'Cause I'm holding out for that teenage feeling."
I nod, hard. "I know. I just don't want to be alone." His sad eyes understand me. He nods, touching his eyelashes to mine. I don't want to be alone in the forest, surrounded by my past and loved ones lost and terrible deeds that I've done, consoled only by my own empty words.
"It's only a few hours," he sighs. "Let's call it an early day, come home, and relax." I start to dry heave into his shoulder. I'm an attractive one, I think.
"This is what healing feels like," he adds quietly, breathing into my hair. "It won't be so bad. You know where to find me." I nod. Peeta is obvious. He'll be in town, laughing it up with his friends, I can hear him from a mile away. That's how amazing his laugh is.
All the loves we had, all we ever knew-
Did they fill me with so many secrets
That keep me from loving you?
'Cause it's hard...