Hello everybody! The week sure flew by. Thanks for the continued reviews, follows and favorites! :)
Also, did anybody catch the Hannibal finale? I seriously can't wait to own the first season so I can have that to obsess over until we get the second season. XD
Anywho... without further ado, here ya go.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
I watch Peeta putter around his kitchen, his face bright with embarrassment.
"Is this the first time you have attempted to cook in here? Baking aside, of course," I ask him.
"Yes… can't you tell? I'm sorry. I really thought it would be easier," he laughs nervously, the merry sound filling the room nevertheless.
I stare after him, unable to believe this sunny person was mistreated as a child.
How could his mother have done that to him? I can picture little Peeta, sweet, innocent, kind… so undeserving of her. I'm glad he doesn't stay in touch, she doesn't deserve to even be looked at by him. It's a wonder he grew up to be such a good person. But I really can't picture him any other way. He's so good… maybe I could learn a thing or two from him as well.
"How do you like baked potatoes?" he asks, sack of said items in hand.
"I love them," I tell him, smiling.
He smiles back, placing the sack on the counter and picking out the three largest ones. I take them and wash them thoroughly, placing them on a cutting board. He takes out some aluminum foil and wraps them individually in it, making them look like massive silver eggs. He turns on the over and fiddles with the temperature while I place the potatoes on a tray and hand it to him. He smiles at me and opens the over carefully, sliding the tray in there.
"Well, that was easy," he jokes easily.
I raise my eyebrows at him and shake my head.
"The toppings?" I remind him.
"Right!" he blushes, opening the fridge and gathering a mass of ingredients in his arms.
He closes the door with his hip and places everything on the counter. I see the tub of butter, the block of cheddar cheese, the jar of sour cream and a few more other things that I don't bother reading the labels of.
"Would you like meat as a topping too?" he asks, half-turned to peer into the fridge again.
"Uh…" I say, feeling stupid.
He laughs easily and opens the fridge, moving packages aside. He finally takes out a plastic tub full of some kind of meat.
"Turkey," he tells me, noticing my inquisitive stare.
"Oh, I do like turkey," I nod appreciatively.
"Good," he says simply, taking out the pre-cut pieces and setting them on a wooden cutting board.
He starts to dice them carefully, if clumsily.
"Uh… you want me to do that for you? I'm sort of an expert with sharp things," I grin widely. "Don't want you cutting yourself and bleeding all over the counter…"
He looks up at me, eyes narrowed.
"Katniss, I'm not that usele—" he starts to say but is cut short when he lets out a gasp.
I straighten up and rush toward him, his face deathly pale.
"Ouch! Damn!" he bites his lip, clutching his finger tightly.
"Peeta! Let me see, come on…" I speak softly, trying to coax him into showing me.
He finally unclenches his fist and I see a small pool of blood, slowly starting to drip down his forearm. There is indeed a cut on his index finger, right along one of the creases. I wince, knowing how it was going to hurt to bend his finger later.
"Peeta, sit down. Let me help you," I tell him urgently.
He takes a seat on the barstool, his eyes on the blood spilling from the cut. I rapidly take a rag, wash it quickly and mop up the blood on his arm, very carefully cleaning the cut. I rinse the rag again and mop the blood from his palm and the blood that had begun to seep once more from the cut. I bite my lip, hoping he didn't hit an artery. Suddenly, anxiety takes over me and I feel genuinely worried about Peeta. I glance at his ghostly pale face and lips, feeling my own blood pressure drop. I finally clean up the remaining blood and cut a large piece of the soft rag off, wrapping it tightly around his finger to stop the flow. I watch it for a few seconds, hoping the rag doesn't get soaked in blood. If it were to, then we'd be in big trouble. So I pray under my breath and let out a sigh of relief when only a few spots of blood soak through.
"Peeta?" I call his name softly, looking up at him.
His face is still pale but not as much as it was minutes ago. He's staring at his hand, almost catatonic.
"Peeta?" I try again, shaking him gently. "You in there? Peeta?"
He finally swallows thickly and his azure eyes flicker to mine.
"You feel okay?" I ask him.
He nods jerkily, silently.
"Peeta, you've got to talk to me. You're worrying me."
He swallows again and clears his throat.
"Sorry, Katniss. I just… blood," he says dazedly.
I hold back a laugh and bite my lip instead.
"Not a fan of blood, huh?"
He shakes his head weakly and I notice the sweat beaded up on his upper lip and forehead.
"Thank goodness your father was a baker rather than a butcher then," I joke, hoping that it takes him out of his shock.
His face livens up a bit and he smiles feebly at me. I smile back at him and wash what's left of the rag thoroughly, wringing the water out of it and using it to gently wipe the sweat off his forehead; a few tendrils of his hair brush against the back of my hand as I do and I find that it sends tickles all through my body. His eyes watch my face intently and I'm trying hard not to let my face turn red.
"You're a natural," he tells me, breaking the silence around us.
I frown, throwing the rag away.
"Natural? At what? Speaking too quickly?" I ask, feeling guilty.
He chuckles and shakes his head.
"At taking care of people. Like a healer," he tells me.
I scowl.
"Like my mo—"
"No, I never said like her. In your own way. Besides, you could never be like her. You're too good," he nods.
My heart aches for a moment but I push that feeling away and shrug indifferently. But still, I feel touched that he thinks such good things of me.
"Sorry, Peeta."
"What for?" he asks.
"For speaking too soon. I shouldn't have distracted you. If I hadn't, you probably wouldn't have cut yourself," I tell him fretfully.
"Katniss. It's okay. It was bound to happen sometime. Thankfully it was with you around," he smiles.
I give him a tiny smile in return and take over the task of dicing the turkey.
"Why don't you relax for a moment and I do this?" I suggest.
He agrees, apparently, because he stays seated. I turn on the stove and let a pan heat up for a bit. I finally add the diced turkey, letting it cook for a few moments before turning the heat off. The smell of the cooked turkey makes my stomach hurt but I resist from taking a bite. Peeta and Prim are probably hungry too.
"Is there anything else you want to make?" I ask, turning to look at him.
He looks pensive for a few moments and it's almost as if I can hear his thoughts.
The potatoes are more than big enough, but would it be fine to have something else? Rice, pasta…
"Is there anything you'd like to try?" he asks me.
"No, the potatoes will be more than filling," I smile at him.
"Well… if you say so. The potatoes are almost ready, by the way. A little bell will sound off when they do, so don't be alarmed."
"Maybe I should go call Prim…"
"No, you stay here. I'll go call her," he offers, jumping off the barstool and leaving me alone.
I glance around the enormous kitchen and understand why Peeta chooses not to cook. It is too lonesome. Suddenly a bell rings and I peer into the oven to look at the potatoes.
Well, of course you can't see anything… they're covered, genius.
So I take some gloves to protect against the heat, open the oven and take out the tray. A most heavenly smell of baked potato reaches my nose and I can hear Peeta and Prim chatting easily. I place the tray on the wooden cutting board and take the gloves off, putting them back where they were. I see the block of cheese sitting there so I open drawer after drawer, hoping to find a grater. I finally do and grab a plate to place the grated cheese in and unable to help myself, grab a pinch-ful of grated cheese and eat it.
"Katniss, I can't believe you made Peeta cut himself!" Prim rebukes me.
I fidget, once again feeling guilty and bite my tongue as to not tell her off. Instead, I force a smile at her and take one of the barstools and set it on the opposite side.
"Well, looks like they're ready!" Peeta says, clapping his hands together gently.
He gets utensils out and takes a seat next to Prim. I plop down and very carefully take a potato, keeping my eye out on Prim and Peeta. We start putting our toppings on the potatoes when I hear a strange vibration. Judging from Peeta's expression, it came from him.
"A text," he mumbles, not bothering to check.
Not even five minutes later, his phone starts to ring. Prim and I look at him, his face red.
"Well, aren't you going to answer?" I ask him.
He lets out a deep sigh and reaches into his pocket for the phone, eyes narrowing when he sees who the caller is. He gets up and answers, putting the phone to his ear.
"Yes Glimmer. Hello?" I hear him say impatiently before walking out of the room. "What is it…?"
"Ooh! Glimmer! The actress! She used to date him, if memory serves," Prim tells me.
I stare at her, not really caring who she is.
"Well, does it bother you?" I ask her.
She frowns at me, looking at me as if I'm crazy.
"Why would that bother me?"
"Don't you like him?" I ask her, letting out the question that has been driving me crazy. Partially.
She bursts out laughing.
"That doesn't mean I'm in love with him! Geez, Katniss. Just because he's one of my favorite actors doesn't mean I want to marry him," Prim scoffs.
"Well, excuse me. You two have been getting on very well, is all," I shrug.
She puts her fork down and stares at me in disbelief.
"Don't you know?" she asks, stupefied.
"Know what?"
Her eyes bulge a little out of their sockets and she continues to stare at me.
"Seriously, Katniss?"
"Don't I know what?" I press, starting to grow irritated.
"It's so obvious!" she giggles.
I glare at her but then Peeta comes back into the kitchen, his expression exasperated.
"Everything all right?" she asks him.
Peeta arranges his lips into a smile and shakes his head.
"I'd really rather not get into that right now. Don't want to ruin dinner," he says curtly, for him.
She nods understandably and continues to eat in silence. I just stare at him, puzzled.
She obviously must have annoyed him, otherwise why would he come in and answer like that? To Prim, no less! But I really mustn't put my nose where it doesn't belong. No matter how intriguing a matter may seem.
So we continue to eat in silence. We finally finish and Prim washes the utensils we used.
"That was a lovely dinner, Peeta! Thank you so much. And sorry about Katniss cutting your finger open, hopefully that will heal soon," she tells him, kissing his cheek and floating off.
I stare after her, still a little bit unwilling to believe she doesn't like Peeta. He turns to me and I look back at him, curious as to what's running through his mind.
"You're more than welcome to wander around the house. You can either lounge in the living room, my studio or in the outside patio. You can even borrow a book or two, if you'd like. Remember, my house is your house," he reminds me with a dimpled smile.
I nod wordlessly and he nods back, starting to turn away.
"Wait!" I call out.
He turns around, curious expression on his face. I swallow and put a smile on my face.
"What are you going to do?"
"Right now?"
"Yes."
"Going to read some scripts… have to upkeep the house, you know," he laughs.
I snicker and nod once more.
"Gotcha."
"Why do you ask?"
Damn! Wasn't really expecting him to ask me this.
"Just… wondering. I guess I'll go up to my room now. Goodnight?"
He smiles tenderly at me, his eyes bright.
"Goodnight, Katniss. Sleep well," he tells me.
We both walk in silence out of the kitchen and start to part ways when he gently tugs on my arm, causing me to turn to him. He leans in and presses a tender kiss on my cheek, making my face turn bright red. His cheeks are red as well and he smiles shyly before walking into his office, leaving his door open.
I stare after him, bewildered. I climb slowly to my room and stare at my duffel bag. I shake my head, snapping myself out of my trance. I reach for the bag and take what little clothes I brought out. Thankfully they're not too crumpled and so I look around for the closet. I hadn't noticed the door across from what I presumed what the bathroom was, so I open it and am amazed to discover a small walk-in closet. There are many hangers hung up but no clothes.
Obviously. I doubt anybody's even ever slept in this room before. Oh, Peeta… are you solitary by nature? It wouldn't seem so. Your personality demands affection and human interaction.
So I hang my clothes and close the door carefully. I sit down at the foot of the bed, looking at my surroundings again, not quite able to believe it still.
Like I told Peeta, I'll probably get used to all this just as we have to leave… I suppose real world will be awaiting us. I wonder what they'll tell me at work. Oh, joy. Work. But at least Prim's graduating soon and then she'll be off to college. And I'll be alone… just like Peeta.
Thanks for reading! I sure hope you enjoyed it. :)
See ya next week.
Oh, before I forget! This story is three followers away from having 100! Can you believe it? It might seem like a small number, but to me, it's my greatest success and I have nobody but you guys to thanks... so, thank you! ^_^