The velvet sofa reminds me of the one from the Justice building waiting room. I run my hand up and down the fabric. Comforting myself in the foreign surroundings. I can see how these buildings got the reputation of having eyes in the walls, I can't shake the unease in this place.
"Hey, my beautiful wife!" Peeta pokes his head around the doorframe.
"Shhh Peeta, what if Thom heard you." I chide him.
"He's outside, putting the last chair in the cart. Besides, its not like he'd run to tell our families anyway. You know, I love being able to call you that." He lowers his head just enough to show he's barely sorry, the lopsided grin on his face daring me to tell him he can't call me his wife whenever he wants.
I rise to join his side, wrapping my arms around him. His fingers slowly graze across my back. I try to suppress the shiver it sends through me. My thoughts wander to the last time he moved his hand like that without the fabric barrier between us.
"Let's get out of here." My voice is only above a whisper. We walk out the door of the house meant for a Victor, down to where Thom is waiting to take us home.
Mayor Undersee opened the houses in Victor Village to be stripped out and sold in pieces. All the ornate furniture and quality building materials are slowly spreading through the district. One of Gale's old crew mates, Thom, is charged with heading the project.
The exceptions are the Abernathy and Grouse houses which stand silent, the windows and doors boarded up. When travel between districts was opened over the winter, the Grouses hopped on the first train. Start a new life where they aren't recognized as the controversial victor's kin. Rumor has it they resettled in District 4. There's been much debate about how to properly memorialize the formerly occupied homes or if they should be burned down to build something new where they stood. Release the ghosts from their haunts.
"Welcome home, Mr. Mellark and future Mrs. Mellark!" Thom stops the cart in front of the row house we've been assigned. Just across the street from Delly and Rye's. I smile at his formal address to us, a glace over to Peeta reveals his sly smile matches my own.
The job of unloading our new furniture doesn't take long. We used our marriage filing voucher for the sturdy dining table and chairs. The rest we bought with the money Peeta's been saving since our engagement; a small dresser, an electric oven, and the most heavenly soft bed I've ever laid on.
Our electricity allotments from the capitol have been bumped up to 2 days a week now. If we use the time slots wisely with the oven, we should be able to speed up the preservation process on my herb and meat hauls.
Before I know it Peeta is shaking hands with his brand-new friend and inviting him to our toasting tomorrow. I'm lost in the finished painting of the lake he's hung in the entryway, when he climbs back up the steps.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Mellark." Shutting the front door behind him. You would think I'd start getting used to his new pet names after 6 weeks.
"When did you hang this up?" We only officially filed at the Justice Building yesterday. It had been simple enough, a couple signatures. Peeta needed to provide proof of employment for our housing assignment. After a furniture voucher and appointment time for our public signing tomorrow, we were ushered back out the doors, clutching a slip of paper and set of keys.
"Rye kicked me out of the kitchen this morning, said if I was going to be literally skipping around at an indecent hour, I could take that energy elsewhere." He's even bouncing a bit now.
I wander around to see what else he got done this morning. When we left here last night, we'd finished scrubbing the place from top to bottom and dropped off the chest of my few belongings. The kitchen cabinets are now stocked with dishes and some baking staples. Peeta and my clothes hang together in the closet. When I try to turn the handle to the second bedroom, it doesn't move.
"I… uh, I wanted to make sure Thom didn't open that one." He's not looking at me and his cheeks are becoming increasingly pink. Reaching around me he unlocks the room and pushes the door half open.
My eyes immediately land on the homemade easel set up by the window. A work in progress sits propped on its ledge. I recognize her, but only just. Her splayed dark hair and grey eyes, but the face is too soft, wearing an expression I've never seen staring back at me in the mirror. Then there is the rest of me, artfully laid bare down the canvas. I wonder if this is how Peeta saw me when he was lovingly gazing down the first time it had been so much better than simply pain free.
Slowly, I take in the rest of the room. Several paintings hang on each small wall. Now I know why Peeta has shown me so little of his art until now. The rest of the paintings are more innocent than the one on the easel, but the subject matter is the same. My profile chewing a pencil, something I must have done a hundred times in history class. My braid across the back of my hunting jacket. Even a young girl in a red dress with two braids instead of one that I only recognize as myself because of the story Peeta has told me. Our first day of school so long ago.
"Peeta….." He's stayed out in the hall, his hand rubbing his neck the way it always does when he's anxious.
"I guess you could say I have a bit of a muse." He laughs nervously.
"They're beautiful." His natural smile returns. "But, I'm not sure about having a shrine to me set up in the house."
He acts taken aback but the smile that remains tells me I haven't actually offended him. "This is my favorite room! What else are we going to do with it, if not dedicate every inch to beauty?"
The heat is rising up my neck, as I close the door behind me to join him in the hall. I still squirm under his overly lavish compliments.
"You wanna test out the bed?" His voice is deep and rumbles everything inside me.
"Don't you think we should save something for tomorrow?"
"I've saved the cake!" His wide grin is making his proposal all the more tempting.
"We could go to the meadow." My voice comes out husky.
I fall back limp onto the blanket spread out in what has become our spot. My head feels like I'm underwater. The willow branches swirl above me, as I try to catch my breath.
Peeta comes back up beside me and half flops down. His chest quickly rises and falls against me with his own shallow breaths.
A cool breeze ripples over our skin. I curl into him. Breathing in his warmth and his muskier than usual scent. The yellow dot catches my attention over his shoulder. I reach out and pluck it with it's green stem.
"I've never told you why I love dandelions." Peeta opens one eye, attempting to focus on the flower I spin between our faces. "It was after the bread. At school the next day. Our eyes met but then I looked away, I…couldn't thank you yet." He's looking past the flower now, watching me.
"That's when I saw it. The bright yellow there on the ground. And I knew how we were going to survive. Prim and I gathered every dandelion we could find from this meadow, and stuffed ourselves with them and the bread. I started hunting after that." My eyes are beginning to glisten as I meet the blue ones, I had turned away from a lifetime ago.
"You're my dandelion, Peeta." The love behind his eyes is almost too intense, before they close and his lips crash into mine.
There's the yellow dot again. But this time, it has been carefully crafted by hand out of sugar and sits on top of the most stunning cake I am sure has ever existed.
It's our lake, and my forest, and his sky. The bottom is a deep blue, surrounded by marshy reeds which hide a generous feast of katniss flowers. A warm house is tucked safely by the shore. The next tier is a thick green forest, resting above the lake just like it does on the hills. The last layer is a smooth mix of soft sunset oranges, pinks, and purples. But on the very top is where I am transfixed. A single dandelion rests next to a lone katniss.
He presses his frame against my back. "We have to cut it soon, Mrs. Mellark. Your hungry guests are getting restless." His words tickle my temple.
"We can't. Its too gorgeous to eat." I plead.
"That's never stopped me." His low whisper makes a gasp escape my lips. Flashes of yesterday in the meadow replay in my mind. "What if I paint it for you?"
I release a heavy sigh, and lean into him. "Okay."
When the guests have had their fill and all the congratulations have been shared, we spill out into the street for the wedding march. The jumbled melody and laughter dance in the air around us. Peeta grips my waist, the silky peach fabric of the dress Delly gifted me sways between us. Our pace is too fast but no one seems to mind.
We climb the steps of our new home. Peeta turns me to face our singing family and friends. Prim and Mother hold each other, bright matching smiles on both their faces. Even Peeta's mother has joined in the chorus though her expression is still stern as ever. Delly is bawling as Rye attempts to console his overjoyed wife.
The last verse begins. Peeta pulls me into a soft kiss and together we step across the threshold. Slowly closing the door on the merry wedding guests.
The muffled sounds of their final notes leak into the entryway, as Peeta puts down the traditional loaf he's been carrying. It will stay there until breakfast tomorrow morning.
I reach for him and our mouths meet frantically. He's already working on the front buttons down my dress when I pull back.
"Wait, we still have to build the fire." It's tradition to check the newlywed's chimney for the toasting smoke.
"Grrrr." He growls into my mouth with one more kiss.
If there was ever a time when all his mornings starting the bakery oven fires would come in handy, it was now. Peeta has the hearth crackling before my heartrate can even return to normal. This time is somehow even faster than when he started the fire in the lake cabin.
Winter had begun to lift, the signs of rebirth slowly returning. Peeta was eager to get back to his project by the lake. Every time we made the trek, he would pack a few boards. Slowly the old shack was coming back to life, our little home away from home.
This time I would be packing some extra cargo of my own. A specific loaf of bread that Rye prepared for me, without so much as a second thought to why I'd come to him for it instead of Peeta.
The air still had enough chill to make the hike unpleasant. The drizzle on the back quarter made it almost intolerable. We dove into the shelter, and Peeta had a fire started before my boots were fully unlaced.
Heat poured out from the tiny hearth. Another heat was rising as well, while we sat huddled up together. Stripped down to our underwear, the damp clothes laid out to dry.
"Peeta?"
"Mhmm" He stayed fixed on the flames.
"Do you still want to wait til April?" His head jerked and all attention was on me now.
"I don't have enough yet. We could probably afford a bed now, maybe. We already announced the date; people would assume you're pregnant if we suddenly moved it earlier." He's sticking with the practical side of things. His tone is measured.
"What about just us? Just you and me. The toasting is what makes you married. The rest is for everybody else." My words are gentle, they hang in the air.
He opens his mouth to speak twice before saying, "I don't understand."
I retrieve the bread from my bag. Lifting it into the fire glow. I see the recognition on his face. It's the same type, full of raisins and nuts, hearty and rich.
"You… you want to toast with me now?" His eyes are so wide.
I search for words. This was too rash. I'm being impulsive. Well I'd planned it enough to bring the bread, at least. "If you want to, yes." My voice is weak.
He's crying. I've made the Boy with Bread cry. But then he's kissing me, there's urgency, need. The same hunger from the first time I brought him to this lake. Fire is rising inside me. He slows and very deliberately releases my lips.
There's a determination in his face now. Carefully, he takes the bread from my arms. Tearing off a piece for each of us. We hold the chunks over the flames, reciting the old words. A promise spoken for only us.
He lifts his charred piece to me and I lift mine. Together we eat the fire kissed life-giving bread. It tastes the same as the first loaf he burned for me.
We fumble together clumsily by the firelight. My sharp cry reverberates off the walls. Peeta whispers a mix of apologies and gratitude into my hair. We fall asleep a tangled sticky mess. The Girl on Fire and the Boy with the Bread.
Peeta turns from the fire and returns to our earlier position. Tearing at the dress he described as beautiful earlier, that now stands in his way. He hikes up the skirt while picking me up, my legs wrap around his waist. We fumble down the hall, never breaking our heated kiss.
He drops me onto the plush bed. My moans escape out the open window. Now the whole world can know, that I am Peeta Mellark's wife.
Author's Note- Only the epilogue left 😊 This chapter may have inspired another Delly POV. I want to say thank you to all readers!
