A/N To all those who have reviewed: thank you! And, since this is a little Katniss/Peeta, a plug: Medea Smyke- yes, I'm a huge fan- is currently writing a Magde/Gale Katniss/Peeta fic that I would highly recommend.
This scene: CF When Katniss hurt her ankle and Peeta came to visit.
Mrs. Everdeen
I press my fingers lightly against Katniss' ankle, and she winces.
"Well, from what you've told me you seem to have come out of it pretty well. Slipping on ice could've resulted in far worse," I say with a little smile. I know there's more to her story, and, knowing my daughter, it probably involves woods and illegal activities.
I worry about her. More than she knows or guesses, I'm sure. She's horribly blind to the feelings of the people around her, so I'm certain she has no idea of how much I love her and want her to be safe. But of course, after everything she's been through and done for me-and Prim- I can hardly ask her to refrain from putting herself in danger. That would be like asking her not to be herself, something I will never do.
"Good," she says, twitching her ankle away from my probing fingers. "I want to walk around."
"You won't be able to do that for a while," I say, brushing away her hair. "And don't sneak around, you'll hurt yourself.
"Mother," she starts, frowning, but then the bell rings and I rise. Setting the cup of tea on her night table, I go down the stairs and open the door.
"Peeta!" I smile. "Come in."
"Thank you," he returns the smile as he steps in, a box under one arm.
Peeta's resemblance to his father hits me every time I see him, and it's not only the physical resemblances. Yes, his bright, light-hearted smile resembles Grant's exactly, as do the twinkling blue eyes, the wavy blond hair. However, it's also the way he looks at people, so piercingly, or the way he always seems to know exactly what to say that remind me of Grant. I can't help, deep down in some part of me that I refuse to acknowledge, feel glad that Peeta is so untouched by his mother. When it comes to Peeta there are many things I don't admit, like how I already care about him more than I should, like how every night during the Games, when I wasn't hoping for Katniss to come back I was hoping the victor would be him, like how, if I had chosen a little differently, he might be my son.
Yes, there are many things, and I keep them buried far away, so no one, not Katniss, not Prim, not Peeta, and certainly not Grant, will ever know I even think them.
"Hi Peeta!" Prim exclaims happily as she walks in. "What's in the box?"
He opens it up to reveal cheese buns. "You said they were her favorite."
I laugh softly as I look at them. "They're my favorite too."
"I know," he blurts out, before reddening a little and looking down. "My dad mentioned it once,"
I say nothing and watch Prim eat one silently. And I try not to think of Grant's warm hand and cheese buns and nights I wished would never end.
"Mom, who's down there?" Katniss calls, sounding a little irritated. I know she hates being an invalid.
"Can I go up?" Peeta asks, picking up the box. I nod.
"Is he like Mr. Mellark?" Prim asks curiously, when he's gone.
"Yes," I whisper. Of his two brothers, he is the most like Grant. The eldest son is the most like their mother, while the middle brother has characteristics of both his parents. I've kept an eye on them too, another secret.
Ten minutes later, when I go up to take Katniss' cup of tea, I look in and pause by the door, unseen,
He's lying beside her, fully clothed on top of the covers, our book of herbs and plants in his hands. They're silent, but it's a comfortable silence. He looks very serious, and she has her head tilted to the side and seems to be looking at him closely. They look so quietly content and comfortable that it hurts.
I loved my husband. So much. But I told Prim the truth when I said that you could love two people. And watching my daughter with the son of a man I loved-love?- I'm jealous.
Because my daughter is living a life I could have lived, once.
Prompt: For pea blue, who wanted to know Mrs. Everdeen's thoughts on Peeta.