The six-panel front door of the Everdeen house continues to challenge him into a staring duel. Peeta fidgets, threatened by second thoughts and tempted to back out in the last minute. Confused and awkward, he has his guitar and his backpack slung behind his back, and a long, single stem rose in one hand. He hasn't knocked on the door yet, his free hand curled into a fist hanging down his side.
"The door is still closed. I can make a run for it," he thinks to himself. Just then, the door swings open and presents Katniss with an amused look on her face.
"You know we all could see you from inside, through the windows," she says. Her dad was making fun of him the whole time and her mother was gleefully delighted watching Peeta summon some guts on the other side of the front door, in complete concentration. Mrs. Everdeen suddenly materializes from behind Katniss and welcomes Peeta with much fervour, causing Peeta to step back out of alarm.
"Hello Mrs. E," he greets her and flashes her a wide grin.
"Oh Peeta, I've asked you to call me Anita! Come in, make yourself at home!" her mother is exuberant and looks more excited than Katniss does. She leans down on Katniss to pretend she's whispering in her ear. "What a sweet boy..." her mother trails off and turns around, walking by her husband who is now too engulfed by the television and yanks him off the couch. Her parents walk up the stairs and disappear, Peeta's attention now on the polka dots of Katniss' slippers. He looks like he is about to either break down, or break the stem of the rose in half.
"Is that for me?" Katniss urges him to start talking, gesturing at the flower.
"This? Oh..." Peeta looks surprised as he remembers the flower in his hand. He pauses to clear his throat and hopes to high heavens that he doesn't trample over his incoming words. "Katniss, I've liked you since I saw you in the cafeteria, and I thought you had an angelic voice. I think you sort of feel the same for me too. Would you like to do homework together and would you like to be my girlfriend?" He finally extends his arm out and offers Katniss the single rose.
Katniss is now fully beaming, red blush scattering over her olive skin. She shyly accepts it and nods at him. "I like you too Peeta."
Peeta is elated and starts to dismantle the bags off his back and ditches the bagpack on the floor. He takes Katniss' hand and walks her to their couch in the living room, making her sit beside him as he positions his hands and prepares the guitar on his lap.
"I wrote a song especially for you. Wanna hear it?" he asks, then his face falls. "I'll have to sing though, and I sound pretty horrible."
Katniss is currently overjoyed, knowing that Peeta rarely, if anything, never sings. The hopeful look on her face tries to encourage him to start. "Please Peeta? I'll still like you even if you're tone-deaf!"
Peeta chuckles and raises an eyebrow. "Alright, you pulled my leg," he straightens the knots in his throat.
He starts to strum the guitar and the vocals are quick to jump into the first notes, oblivious to the hitch in his voice that makes Katniss giggle.
Peeta's shadow moves quickly down the pitch black alleyway, running in wide leaps and wildly gasping for air. He almost keeps his head low and his knees bent, as if ready to pounce, minimizing his presence in the dark of the night. He keeps an arm straight down as he handles a gun with exquisite firmness and care, aiming it to the ground. He makes a quick decision to duck into the back of a liquor store and hops over bushes, landing on his ass and the side of his arm crashing into a giant garbage bin.
He leans his head back against the hollow of the sheet of metal, accidentally pushing it inwards, turning frozen as he cowers at the sound and the attention it may attract him. His heart is beating out of his shirt, mouth wide open as his chest heaves, attempting to refill his lungs with oxygen. Sweat trickles down and drops off his eyelashes as he brings a finger to poke into his ear. That familiar buzzing in his ear has returned, much to his relief.
"Precious?…" he hears Gale's voice in the earpiece, laced with worry. He is sheltered safely in the armoured van, huddled over his laptop, its weak light flashing into his face as he drags the mouse cursor across a live map and confirms Peeta's location by securing a green blinking dot.
"Damn it. That was a close call. I almost ran out of bullets!" Peeta's voice is thin and shakes as he begins to calm his nerves down. He remembers to put his gun back in his pocket and shrinks his eyes to see if there are any shadows moving towards him. His hands are full of dirt, a crown of sweat bordering his forehead. "I don't think I fully reloaded this gun in the first place."
"I thought I lost you there. Don't quit on me Precious."
Peeta is still breathless, slightly anxious over the sting that throbs in his lungs. Maybe I should stop smoking, he thinks to himself. He responds to his own suggestion with a cough. "Gale, not a lot of things spook me, but running out of bullets is one, my mother's Thanksgiving turkey, and the whole slew of terms of endearment you use on me." He pauses to rub the bruise on his arm.
"...Hold on there cowboy, I'm picking you up. The area is clear. You reckless son of a bitch." Gale is barely audible in his earpiece again, the reception in the area not strong enough to hold a ten second conversation as it crackles. "And please stay away from the garbage bin. Somehow you tend to gravitate towards those. You're going to stink up the van again."
They stand on their usual spot, side by side on the edge of the pier overlooking the water. But it's two in the morning so all they see in front of them is vast darkness, topped with random quick glitters on its surface when the water swirls into waves. The three lamp posts erected on the other side of the crescent of the pier has always served as their light source, one of them starting to fizzle into its final splendor.
Peeta has cleaned the grime off his face and reaches into his front pocket to pull the last cigarette stick in the box. The small flame from the lighter illuminates his face, haggard and hard. It boasts extra layers of grit and spunk earned over the years of perfecting how to kill, however neutralized by his celestial blue eyes. Gale watches him closely from the corner of his eye and feels forced again to end the silence that Peeta seems to enjoy simmering in. Gale rummages through his thoughts and picks the first thing that Peeta may be remotely interested in.
"So how's the old 'new' friend in town? You haven't mentioned anything about her since."
Peeta jerks his head to the side before he blows a cloud of smoke. "I think I may be shit out of luck. She's a distraction," he slips the cigarette between his lips again and intakes a sharp breath. "I can't stop thinking about her, but frankly, I don't think she cares enough to know."
Gale brightens at an idea.
"Tough cookie huh. You should hit up Jinx this Friday. I pulled off a deal and called in Deadmau5 to perform. I got you on this, just go see my boys by the front door and they will let you in. All you have to do is show up," Gale invites him. He co-manages a club in the core of downtown area and also works as one of its promoters, after he resigned from his nine to five job as an IT project manager for a high end retail giant, Saks Fifth.
Peeta shoots him a weak smile and shakes his head. "I don't know Gale. I'm just not the club type anymore."
"Retiring your cape already? Come on, man, you're at your prime, you should be stirring shit up. There will be an impressive array of ladies I can introduce you to."
"I really think I've already stirred enough shit in one lifetime, Gale." Peeta coughs as his mind turns, cooking up an attempt to veer the topic away from himself. "How about you, aren't you seeing anyone? What's her name..." he pauses to think, frustrated that the girl's name is at the tip of his tongue. Gale merely gives him a discerning look and crosses his arms.
"What did I tell you about names."
Peeta closes his eyes to pretend that he's in a deep thought. "Oh, right, not important enough to remember because you rotate girlfriends every couple of weeks. You're a piece of work, Hawthorne," Peeta lets out a short laugh. Gale joins in and chuckles over Peeta, relieved that he is interacting with him.
"I love women like how I love Chinese buffets," Gale says as he accepts the shrunken cigarette stick from Peeta. "Assortment. Abundance."
Gale is more of a social smoker. The only time he will accept a cigarette from someone is if it's from Peeta, because Gale has always perceived that Peeta's behaviour of sharing something he feels strongly for means that he is in Peeta's good books. Despite working many years with him and knowing his capability to take a person's life and end it in a split second, Gale still has not seen the limit of what Peeta can do, and would rather be on his good side. On top of everything, Gale would really rather smoke a blunt. But he doesn't have the heart to tell him.
They turn in unison to the sound a rolling car coming in from a hidden corner and parks by the main door of the warehouse. Seconds tick and it doesn't take long until the car resumes to drive again and crawls towards Gale and Peeta, who have both started walking down the wooden pier to greet the black Lincoln now parked on the concrete before the integration of the plank that continues on to the pier.
The tinted window of the Lincoln rolls down smoothly, revealing a handsome, tanned man with broze coloured hair, sticking his head out of the car window and gives Gale and Peeta a nod.
"Got dragged into another late night, eh Finnick. You look like you've been awake for days," Peeta says, shoving his hands into his pockets and slightly bends down to look into the car. Finnick is employed under Cato as his driver, growing weary of the fact that he has to accomodate to Cato's schedule all the time, regardless of his condition. Finnick's presence is greatly demanded at the snap of Cato's fingers, especially when Cato is in the middle of an operation himself, and Finnick is starting to entertain the idea of quitting because he has formed some type of insomnia over the years. His body clock is severely damaged.
Finnick rubs his hand down his face in fatigue. "Where's Cato? I got some important stuff to do, like resuming my sleep," he complains.
Peeta can't help but feel sorry for the anguish on Finnick's face. Gale shrugs his shoulders and surveys the warehouse, a light switched on in one of the rooms. "I think he's still looking over some files. You know how he is with his fetish for brainstorming and black and white photos of his targets."
Finnick sighs and drops his head onto the steering wheel. "Guys, did you know my blood has been replaced by rivers of Red Bull?" he mumbles into the closed space below the steering wheel. He sits upright and brings up his wrist to check the time on his watch. He peeks outside the car window again to look at Peeta and Gale guarding the car.
"My blood is bubbling over on nicotine, if that makes you feel any better," Peeta tries to cheer him up and fails ultimately.
"I started looking for other jobs. I hope Cato won't mind my future resignation," Finnick wishes out loud. Gale and Peeta exchange glances as they quietly figure out how to respond, careful not to give too much information about how Cato might perceive it, and how bad he may react to it. Peeta happens to think Finnick is Cato's last decent employee that has refused to turn completely corrupt just like him.
Finnick's eyes dart back to the warehouse and restart the engine of the car as soon as he sees Cato's shadow waiting by the door.
"Alright. See you two around. We should go for a drink next week," Finnick suggests as he slowly drives away. "And let's keep the part where I'm planning to ditch Cato only between us? It stays on the pier."
Gale and Peeta nod at him, both hoping that his days are not numbered soon.
The venti caramel macchiato and cinnamon dolce latte sit snugly in a cardboard tray, still steamy and rich in Starbucks goodness. Peeta's arm that is holding the two massive hot beverages is starting to cramp, and can't be helped by his other hand because it is shaking as it clinches a single stem rose. He is growing impatient over the fact that he hasn't been able to have a proper conversation with Katniss, and if he can't bring her to Starbucks to finally get her to agree to a date, then he's bringing the Starbucks to her house.
It's Saturday, and he is feeling extra good today, acknowledging the baby blue skies and Katniss' novice gardening skills as he observes the pansies, also noting a new set of violet hydrangeas.
"Time to grow extra balls. What could possibly go wrong."
"She will slap me for showing up at her door."
"She will flip the tray of these ridiculously priced hot beverages into my Armani shirt."
"Remember; you screwed everything up. You're an idiot."
"Oh Katniss. Ever so loyal to good 'ole Toyota. I wonder what bunny boo is doing inside."
"I really want to lick the caramel off this macchiato. But I can't. This is bunny boo's."
Before he realizes it, he is wincing at his new set of Peeta Mellark's Inner Thoughts When He's Not on a Killing Spree, his index finger is pushing into the doorbell. Several times. He could hear Katniss' faint voice coming from inside, shouting 'Hold on!'.
The door swings open and Katniss appears, donned in her glasses, purple pyjama and her hair tied up in a messy bun. One of her eyebrows is comically higher than the other and her lips look like they are eager to form words but she holds still, her hand clutching the door knob. Peeta gives her half a smile.
"Good morning?" he greets her. He watches Katniss' shoulder rise as she intakes a long breath of air.
"Peeta! It's so early! You can't come here," Katniss looks genuinely surprised by his surprise weekend visit. "Go away!"
"First and foremost I apologize for what happened between us," he pauses to untangle his throat. "And it's such a nice day and I was thinking we could, you know, re-acquaint with each other and, well, might as well start as early as ten o'clock," Peeta suggests, one of his foot already forward stepping over the door.
Katniss' head darts over at her driveway and sees his white Lexus parked, in all its sophisticated glory.
"Nice car. It makes my Toyota look like crap."
"Kat, Lexus IS under Toyota.
"Since when did you become so fancy? You've always hated the fancy stuff back then."
Peeta starts to shake his head and flexes his arm that his holding the rose. "Katniss, will you go out on a date with me. Check Yes, or Of Course."
"Peeta I'm in my PJ's. You know I take an hour to get ready," Katniss is slowly losing it.
"We can just hang out here in the bench if you like. Besides, you look fine. I like your bun."
Katniss slams the door shut but he does not pull back nor feel a tinge of discouragement. Peeta finds his finger back at it again, clicking the doorbell with urgency. And he has no plan on lifting his finger off until he sees the door open once again.
Katniss re-appears abruptly behind the door, her face unreadable. She crosses her arms in front of her as she looks Peeta up and down.
"Look, I just wanted to spend maybe a little time with you, or maybe a lot, and I have my favourite shirt on, and these coffees are seriously starting to cramp my arms and also my style, and this rose..." he trails as he offers it to Katniss, suddenly feeling grounded and almost shy. "It's for you."
She looks at the rose solemnly as she purses her lips together as if in deep contemplation, refusing to accept it. She entertains continuing where they left off, but the memories she left in Kentucky that she finds herself digging out is leaving a bitter taste again and suddenly the words are leaping out of her mouth before she could think twice.
"Peeta, a huge part of me died when you left that day. I forgive you, but I don't think I can forget."
"Do you think you were the only one who was hurt when I had to break our relationship? It was tough, Katniss, and I had to live with it for the next three years!" he dips his head low and tries to calm the rise in his voice. "We can forget together by starting again, creating something new, something that will replace all the rough patches. And we didn't even have many. We had it good."
"Exactly! We did have it good didn't we, Peeta?" Katniss' mind is doing choppy loops and spins, suddenly feeling magnetized to his broad chest and has a sudden urge to see what it looks like again underneath that shirt. "I can keep you as a friend."
Peeta is quick to reply. "No. We're either together, or we're nothing."
Her heart is throbbing out of her chest. There is something in him that is new, the firmness and authority in his demand. She wants him to get off her porch, but she does not want to let him go. "What, and hurt me again? Why can't we just be friends?" she demands an answer.
"We can't be friends because I'm still in love with you."
The world screeches into a halt in Katniss' eyes as Peeta takes a wide step in through the door which swings wildly from his charge, pushing her back as she springs away from it. She stops breathing as he closes the space between them, flinging the rose away and lands on the coffee table at his left side. He grabs the back of her neck and yanks her towards him, his tongue darting out and sweeps across her lower lip before crushing his full lips hard into hers. He almost forgets that he is still balancing the Starbucks coffees in one hand as he feels Katniss' hand come up and touch his elbow as her tongue starts to fight back and reach into the roof of his mouth.
Katniss lets out a low hum, feeling revived by a kiss, almost as if it was the first time she ever felt him touching her. Peeta takes another subconscious step forward, his hand wandering off from behind her neck and around to trace her jawline down and rests on the tip of her chin. Katniss plucks her lips off of Peeta's but does not move away, allowing herself as she rediscovers the planes and angles of his face, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin. Peeta looks deep into her eyes, reflecting a look of regret and longing in his blue eyes as his thumb starts to gently caress her chin. He hears a scuffle from behind Katniss and lets his eyes trail away from her face and land on a small person peeking from behind the couch.
His head tilts on one side so he could have a clear view over Katniss' head in front of him, growing curious of a little girl with dark hair and light-brown complexion. Willow blinks at him and sticks her head further out from hiding, one of her legs stepping to the side until she is fully revealed in front of Peeta, locking her hands behind her back.
"...Hello..." Peeta greets her, unsure. Katniss reaches for the tray of coffee in Peeta's hand and takes it away, placing it on the sofa table beside the vases. She smiles at the look on Peeta's face and takes his hand, making him approach her daughter with her, who is now swinging sideways and making her pig tails fly.
"Willow, this is Peeta. Peeta, meet Willow," Katniss introduces the two formally. Willow takes her Pooh bear sitting on the couch and extends her arms to Peeta. He looks confused but maintains his gaze at the bear, and then at Willow, then back at the bear. Katniss leans in close to him and whispers, "You have to shake Mr. Pooh's hand."
He stretches an arm out and holds the stuffed toy's small hand and begins to shake it lightly, delighted at the dimple on Willow's cheek as she smiles. He stands back upright and does not quite know how to react, and proceeds to shoot Katniss a slight smile instead. She studies him closely for a moment, trying to measure his thoughts. His hands dig deep into his pockets as he starts to fidget. Willow starts to sing for her bear.
"She's three. Quite a ball of energy," Katniss says as they both watch Willow twirl around and start singing louder with more feelings.
"She can sing. Just like her mother," Peeta makes an observation. They keep small smiles on their faces as Willow finishes her short song and giggles, holding a new type of fascination towards Peeta as she starts to show off her mild tumbling skills.
Willow lands on her butt and stands up, dusting herself off. "Mommy, is he my new daddy?" she asks with a small hilt in her voice. Katniss almost jumps before she swoops low to have hold of the little girl. Willow's eyes are kept on Peeta, making little sounds of protest as Katniss leads her away. He stands wordless, pissed at what his emotions are currently doing to him. Is he angry? Is he sad? Disappointed? Happy? Confused?
"Ok! It's brunch time! Let's go to your room and meet your furry friends," she says with enthusiasm, trying to get Willow excited for playtime. She turns around to look at Peeta before she heads off, telling him to have a seat and wait for her to come back down.
He lets out an air he didn't know he's been holding as the two disappear. He makes a beeline to the couch and scans her living room, shelves full of pictures of Katniss and her daughter, her late father, and a very old one of her grand father and her when she was a baby. There are colouring books and stuffed toys strewn all over the living room floor, and in the shelf space under the coffee table is a self-help book on parenting. He hears Katniss' footsteps coming from the hallway.
His eyes open wide as he sees what Katniss is carrying in her hands, holding a musical instrument with care and fondness. Katniss glances down on it before she looks at Peeta across the room with disbelief on his face.
"My guitar!" Peeta almost jumps off the couch, feeling a quick surge of happiness at seeing Katniss holding his guitar. A smiling Katniss and his guitar, together, in one visual. It is suddenly too much for him to handle.
"Days after you left, I went to your parents' house to see if you were still there. Then they told me they were as confused as I was, but you were still communicating with them so they knew you were somehow safe." Katniss gives him the guitar. "I took this from your room."
Peeta takes the guitar from her gingerly, and flips it around to check an old familiar memory that marked their relationship, an etching in the wood on the back of the guitar.
Peeta + Katniss = forever
He feels something prick his eyes as he closes them, trying with all his might to remail cool and collected. He lowers the guitar onto the floor and pulls Katniss into a gentle embrace, placing his head on her shoulder. His voice is muffled by the fabric on Katniss' pyjama top.
"I'm so sorry. I missed you..."
They sit facing each other on the ledge of the bay window in the living room, Peeta holding the guitar in his lap with one foot on the floor and Katniss' both legs crossed in front of her. She holds her caramel macchiato nestled in her hands as she blows into the steam, having to reheat their coffee in the microwave. She watches Peeta absorbed, tuning his guitar, strumming each string and judging each note they produce. She takes a languid sip of her beverage.
"So...really, you look like you're rolling big with your Lexus," Katniss suggests. "However I still like your used, beat-up Mercedes."
"Ah yes. My first shit box."
Katniss shakes her head, amused. "You can't have Mercedes and the word shit in one sentence. That never makes sense."
Peeta tears his eyes off the strings of his guitar and looks up at her, gazing at Katniss and smiles tenderly. If he looks any closer, he could almost tell that Katniss' eyes are fluttering at him.
"What?" Katniss asks, a corner of her lip tugging up.
"Nothing. I haven't smiled like this in a very, very long while. It almost hurts," his head bows down again to his guitar. "I think I like it." One of his hands detach from the guitar and pick up his cup of coffee, taking a long swig before he places it back down on the ledge beside him. Katniss returns his smile as she takes another sip, her eyes showing a little twinkle. He continues.
"I know what you're thinking, that I'm living off my parents' wealth even from all the way down here in Texas," he pauses as he emphasizes his words with Texan accent, and reaches for something in his pocket and pulls out a small flyer, embossed and laminated. "Well, here's what I do."
Katniss takes the promotional card he offers her. It's an exclusive invitation to the grand opening of his own art studio in the most posh area of downtown.
"You have your own gallery now?" Katniss' hand comes up to her chest, her expressions are of excitement and pride.
"It's crazy sometimes, the items that people buy and what they would gladly pay for. That's my target market right there," he lets out a small chuckle and strums his guitar, nodding his head. "I want you to come to the premiere. Please?" He asks, giving her a pout and puppy eyes. She nods as she leans over and touches the tip of his nose with hers.
"How about you, what is up with that...night shift of yours," Peeta suddenly can't meet her eyes, feeling embarassed to ask.
"Well my 'night shift' job definitely adds to my flow of income. I need to support my daughter, right?" Katniss looks out the window and watches cars and family vans drive by. "I want her to have the best of things, everything I didn't get to have while growing up." She turns to look back at Peeta and catches him watching her intently. "I work weekdays as a financial planner."
Peeta looks impressed. "Then you don't need to be a dancer. Just saying," he tries to hint at her. Katniss does not respond because she does not want to argue over her taboo sideline at the moment. She finishes her coffee and tries to get more comfortable in the cushion of the ledge they are sitting on.
"Peeta. Just shut up and sing me my song."
She walks him to the doorway. It's almost two pm and Peeta's phone has been vibrating in his pocket in the past hour. He quickly glances at it and starts to excuse himself. He slings the guitar over his back and straightens out his shirt. Katniss is mere inches behind him, almost gets hit by the tuning pegs as he turns around right before he passes through the door.
"Willow is such a cute girl. I can see the resemblance," he gestures at Katniss's face and she smiles.
"Thank you. She makes me happy when my skies are gray," she gushes over her daughter, fixing the wide-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
Peeta nods, suddenly looking trapped. He has been meaning to ask something but is finding it difficult to even begin, let alone how to ask. Katniss notes the struggle on his face and moves closer to him.
"If you don't mind sharing. Who is her father?" Peeta finally blurts out.
Katniss starts to shake her head, almost huffing in sudden fatigue. "Oh. I don't think you'd know him, Peeta. Texas is, you know, big."
"You never know, I've seen the expanse of Texas. I might know a couple of people around here," he boasts, encouraging her to answer honestly. "Try me."
Katniss looks long and hard at him, eyes flying everywhere at his face except his eyes. Her lips begin to move, taking a deep breath before the name pushes out of her mouth.
I take one step away
But I find myself coming back to you
My one and only, one and only you
-Parokya Ni Edgar
A/N: I appreciate every single review/fave/follow! I eat them up, I love em so! I happily accept donations in form of reviews :D
