A/N: So thanks for sticking with me! You guys are faithful readers, and it just thrills and amazes me!
Here's chapter 13, which covers some little extras, the turning of summer into fall, and the Harvest Festival! This chapter corresponds to chapters 16 and 17 from Young Blood. Like I've mentioned before, I was originally going to cut out a lot from Young Blood, only focus on major plot points from Peeta's POV, but I'm having such a great time writing this fic, and my template is already there, that I can't help but find myself writing all of these things. And of course it is different in that it's from Peeta's perspective.
Again, thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews/comments/messages. I have plenty more to write, so let me know what you think of the chapter and keep reading! Oh and for my American readers, Election Day is tomorrow so get out there and vote! I already voted early because I won't be in my home town tomorrow. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
The days slipped by so quickly that Peeta might have fooled himself into thinking he'd lost track of the nights he'd spent with Katniss since she first crawled into his bed that summer. But that wasn't the case.
Forty-four nights. That night would make forty-five.
When she had shown up in his bedroom a month and a half ago, he had thought himself dreaming. But when he realized that he wasn't dreaming, he thought she was some ethereal creature come to pay him a visit. A ghost, perhaps – no, that would be an ominous comparison. There were too many souls dead and buried.
An angel, then. A messenger from heaven. But the association had made Katniss upset, and Peeta had fallen asleep, images of resplendent white wings – not the dark ones from his false memories – emerging from her back.
Or perhaps she was the beautiful huntress from the ancient stories he read growing up. In those tales, there were no angels, but gods that came to earth freely, taking on a human form.
When the days grew cooler and she slipped on her father's old hunting jacket, it made Peeta's breath catch in his throat. He remembered her – quite a bit thinner and somewhat shorter – walking about town in that very garment, a bag full of illegal game to be sold or traded on back steps and in the Hob. Peeta had never been to that unlawful trading post, but he – like most others in town – had known of its existence. He pictured people at their booths, trading and selling food and other supplies that were limited by the government.
An idea slowly came to mind. In years past, folks would start to hang up decorations – ears of corn tied together, wreaths of bright orange and gold flowers – for the annual Harvest Festival. It was usually a dinner with family and friends, a meager celebration even for Peeta's family. But the last time Peeta and Katniss had celebrated the harvest, it had been with a large feast at Mayor Undersee's, on the last stop of the Victory Tour. The whole town had reaped the benefits of two victors from District 12 – there was plenty of food and treats for everyone.
"The Harvest Festival…?" Thom had asked when Peeta mentioned it one day. The dark-haired man was enjoying a large cup of coffee in the bakery. "Oh well, I'm sure whoever wants to celebrate will – "
"No, I mean I want to throw a Harvest Festival, for the whole town." Peeta cut him off enthusiastically. "I want to do something different this year." He explained. Marc and Theo were listening eagerly.
"What did you have in mind?" Thom asked.
"Well, I was thinking something out in the town square. People could have booths to sell things – we'd sell baked goods, of course." Peeta explained with a chuckle, pointing from himself to Theo and Marc.
Thom folded his arms across his chest and let out a thoughtful "hmmm."
And so it was settled after quite a bit of discussion and planning. The District 12 Harvest Festival would include booths in the town square where folks could sell their wares. There would be face painting and bobbing for apples and other games for the children. Thom was on board with the idea, and so they spread word of the festival throughout town, encouraging everyone who was interested to participate.
When Peeta told Katniss about the Harvest Festival at dinner one night, he was afraid it would bring back painful memories from the Victory Tour. She did look quite confused for a while, but as Peeta explained everything, she seemed to like the idea.
He even suggested that Sae sell her food, and the older woman agreed to think about it at least. But Peeta could tell that beneath Sae's neutral exterior, she was mulling it over.
"It'll be just like old times," Katniss offered in encouragement. Peeta supposed Katniss was referring to when Sae had a booth at the Hob.
So the date for the Harvest Festival was set, and Peeta got to work making flyers to post around town for those interested in directly participating. Thom even had a list for everyone to sign, and found several volunteers to work at the game booths. They ordered tents from the Capitol, and the large squares of cloth and the tall metal poles arrived in large boxes a week later, along with banners and pastry boxes Peeta had ordered for his own booth.
"How's the planning going, for the Harvest Festival?" Katniss asked him one night.
It was cold, and he had started a fire in the hearth downstairs earlier that evening, but she hadn't sat near it. And now she stood before him, nearly shivering in her cotton nightgown, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Peeta just smiled and shook his head.
"Go ahead and finish getting ready for bed," he told her, nodding toward the bathroom. "I'll tell you everything once you get warm…"
Katniss hurried off to complete her nightly routine, and Peeta sat on the edge of the bed to change. He slipped out of his shirt and trousers, kicking them toward a pile of their shared laundry. He smiled to himself to think of how entwined their lives had become.
He carefully removed his prosthesis, rubbing the patch of sensitive skin where the device attached. A large jar of medicated cream sat on the nightstand, and so he grabbed it and began applying it generously to the area. Katniss had made one phone call to her mother once the weather turned cold, and a box full of ointments and salves had arrived a few days later. His heart leapt to think that she had ordered it – at least partially – for him.
Peeta let out a sharp breath when he hit a particularly sore spot on the remainder of his left leg. His muscles were tight, especially in his left hip, and the joint ached in the cold.
"Does it hurt…?" Her question caught him off guard and he almost jumped at the sound of her voice. He hadn't even realized she'd reentered the bedroom.
Peeta hadn't changed into his pajamas yet, and so he felt rather sheepish at the thought of her walking in on him in just his boxers. But Katniss seemed more concerned with his leg than his lack of clothing. He thought of how shy she had been during the first games to see him only clad in his underwear, his thigh wound a purulent mess. That part of her had definitely changed.
Peeta gave Katniss a brief nod in response to her question before reattaching his prosthesis. He felt the mattress give as she sat down across from him. Her hand made contact with his back, right at the curve of his shoulder where his skin was mottled and raised with ghastly scars. Scars that matched hers. He kept his gaze averted, though. No matter how comfortable she had become around him – or how comfortable he was around her – Peeta still wasn't fond of her seeing him like that – so physically vulnerable. He wanted to be strong for her. He needed to be strong for her. He felt her fingers glide across his skin and his body rebelled at her delicate touch. He had to steel himself to not react, to not turn and meet her gaze and close the distance between them in a split second.
Instead, Peeta let out a long sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, willing his thoughts to return from the wanton place they had traveled. Again the mattress dipped as she moved toward him, and he tensed. But all she did was place her hands on his arms and lay her cheek against the bare skin of his back. Her hair – growing longer by the day – tickled him right at the waistband of his boxers. The contact was painfully exquisite, even though he knew she meant it as a gesture of comfort.
You have no idea, the effect you can have…the line ran through his thoughts, but he left it unvoiced.
He covered one of her hands in his own for a moment before he turned. When he moved, Katniss lifted her head and caught his gaze. But Peeta pulled away from her and stood quickly, throwing on a clean t-shirt and a pair of cotton pajama bottoms.
"Now let's get you warm," Peeta said softly as he climbed into bed, covering them both with a large quilt. Katniss giggled as he wrapped his arms around her slight frame and pulled her close, tucking her head beneath his chin.
It felt so natural, so easy to lie in bed with her every night. He said a silent prayer that he'd never have to spend a night apart from her again.
Katniss still hadn't said anything about his confession, his "I love you" from weeks earlier. He felt relieved to have said it in the first place, but he had slowly begun to develop a sense of unease about it all. Perhaps she had fallen asleep before he said it. Or perhaps he'd spoken too softly and she simply hadn't understood.
Or maybe she just wasn't ready to come to terms with such proclamations. They were putting their lives back together from the horror of not one, but two games, not to mention the destruction of the district, the rebellion, and the deaths of so many loved ones….
Perhaps he wasn't even ready to say it aloud, though it had been true for quite some time.
"I told her I loved her…" Peeta confessed to Dr. Aurelius one afternoon that fall.
Peeta usually called the doctor on his days off, retreating back to his own house for their sessions. He hadn't told the doctor about his admission of love immediately. Only when it began to cause him distress did he decide to bring it up. Sae and Haymitch had been on Peeta for months, pestering him with "have you told her how you feel?" Their nagging had more or less ceased once Katniss had invited Peeta into her bed at night, though. He hadn't told them about his "I love you," nor did he plan to.
"And what did Katniss say?" Dr. Aurelius asked in reply.
"Nothing…" Peeta responded, his voice sullen. "It was late at night. I think she thought I was asleep. She had just gotten into bed, and I said it." He continued. "She didn't do anything. And she hasn't said anything about it, at all."
"Hmmm…" The doctor murmured thoughtfully.
Peeta thought back to when he'd told the doctor about his nights with Katniss. The older man hadn't acted too surprised, but questioned Peeta carefully about the frequency and duration of his flashbacks, any false memories that had cropped up, his nightmares….Peeta knew that Dr. Aurelius was trying to make sure that he was handling everything as best he could – he was off all of his medications, save an anti-inflammatory for muscle and joint aches and pains. But so far, there hadn't been any close calls, any flashbacks or violent episodes while in bed with Katniss. Being around her calmed him, and Peeta had told the doctor as much, on many occasions.
"How does that make you feel…?" Dr. Aurelius asked.
Peeta felt slightly annoyed at the question. What he really wanted was for Dr. Aurelius to tell him what Katniss was thinking and what he should do in turn. But Peeta knew that was impossible, so he answered the question.
"At first I was just glad I'd said it," Peeta revealed. "But now, it's been a while and I'm not sure what I should do. It makes me feel anxious…What if she doesn't love me back?"
All of the kisses – sweet or passionate, brief or lingering – all of the embraces, the soft caresses, the long looks and smiles and laughter. The nights they spent together, wrapped in each other's arms – it had to mean something.
So he decided he would drop the matter, would simply enjoy his time with Katniss without weighted words or a jumble of thoughts. Plus, he had plenty to keep him busy with planning the Harvest Festival and all.
The response Peeta and Thom had received from folks was almost overwhelming. The Harvest Festival was the talk of the town, and Peeta often found his work at the bakery interrupted by people who just wanted to stop in and discuss the event – whether they were manning a booth or not. Meek and Leidy – two women from District 8 – were going to sell handmade garments. Carol Ann, Fay, and Benny had each signed up to sell jewelry and other trinkets. Lottie, whom everyone said made the best jams in the entire district, had jars in seven different flavors. Ephraim – who'd once worked the lumber mills of District 7 – had skillfully carved wooden boxes, pipes, birdhouses, and toys to hawk. Peeta had seen his work all over town, usually just given as gifts or as payment for something else. A beautiful breadbox sat on Katniss's kitchen counter – traded to Peeta for a month's supply of baked goods.
And even Sae had finally agreed to cook for the festival. The older woman had looked pointedly in Katniss's direction, indicating that she was to supply all of the meat. So Katniss was busy as well, climbing out of bed to go hunt just as Peeta was finishing his morning routine. He would start down the lane, lingering so that he could catch sight of her heading off toward the woods.
He didn't know if it was the extra work keeping her busy or the changing of seasons or simply something in the air, but a subtle change had come over Katniss. A song was never far from her lips. Peeta caught random melodies as she hummed to herself – cleaning her game on the back step, washing the dishes, even while getting ready for bed at night. He would stop her sometimes, ask her which song she was humming, smile and beg her to sing the words. She'd let out a sigh, but she'd oblige him nine times out of ten.
"What's gotten into her?" Haymitch had asked Peeta one evening after dinner.
Their former mentor had stayed over late that night, propping his feet up on the coffee table after settling in on the couch. Peeta raised an eyebrow at the older man, and Haymitch slipped off his shoes in a huff, putting his sock-covered feet back onto the piece of furniture rather dramatically. Katniss had stayed in the kitchen to make a pot of tea while Peeta stoked the fire in the hearth. He didn't blame her for wanting to stay far away from the flames. If his mind hadn't been so addled at the time, if he remembered more of their terrible ordeal in the Capitol, he supposed he wouldn't want anything to do with the embers either.
Katniss had started humming to herself in the kitchen as she waited for the kettle to whistle. Haymitch craned his neck to give her a look, but Peeta didn't think she noticed. And that's when Haymitch had posed his question.
"I don't know…" Peeta said honestly, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward. But Haymitch had narrowed his gaze, looking back and forth between Katniss – still in the kitchen humming a sweet song – and Peeta, who was watching her.
"She's happy," Haymitch said, emphasizing the word as if it was something quite repellant. "Too happy," he added, staring at Peeta.
All Peeta could do was give the older man an innocent look. It thrilled him to know that she was content with her life back in District 12. She'd been such a wreck when he'd first arrived, and he'd worried over her physical and mental health. But even though spring had long since passed, Katniss seemed to bloom a little more every day. Haymitch and Sae had noticed it before, the change in her mood and behavior just weeks after Peeta's return. At first, he had refused to take any of the credit. Perhaps it was only natural. Perhaps it would have happened anyway, even if he hadn't returned. But Haymitch and Sae and even Dr. Aurelius had been convinced Peeta had something to do with it. And deep down, he did want to believe his role in her life was that significant.
"Oh, no…" Haymitch said, a look of realization in his eyes. "No…don't tell me, she's pregnant!"
"What?!" Peeta stared at the older man as if he'd lost his mind. "No, she's not…she's not – "
"Oh, come on!" Haymitch cut him off, looking back toward the kitchen where Katniss stood pouring three cups of tea. "She's practically glowing…"
"Shhhh…." Peeta whispered harshly, afraid of how Katniss might respond to Haymitch's assumption. "That's not it. I assure you, there's no way that Katniss is pregnant," he added softly, glancing nervously in her direction. But Katniss had her back to them and was still humming.
"Well, I know you two are probably being careful an' all," Haymtich replied, his voice quiet. "But no method is one-hundred percent foolproof…"
Peeta felt his ears burn. It was not a conversation he wanted to have with anyone, even his former mentor. When Effie and their prep teams had found them sharing a bed during the Victory Tour, everyone had concluded that Katniss and Peeta were having sex. It was only natural, two teenagers who were in love – and as attractive as they were, of course – Effie had told them, trying to sound sympathetic. But she had also warned them to be more discreet. And neither Katniss nor Peeta had bothered to correct anyone.
"Haymitch," Peeta seethed. "She's not pregnant." He emphasized each word carefully, raising his eyebrows slightly in hopes his former mentor would catch his meaning. It took Haymitch only a moment before another look of understanding passed across his face.
"Oh…" Haymitch said. "Oh, you mean you two aren't…?"
Peeta shook his head in reply.
"Oh…" Haymitch repeated. "You mean to tell me that you've been spending how many nights in her bed now and you two haven't even…?"
Peeta did his best impression of one of Katniss's angry scowls. Haymitch just shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle.
"No wonder she got so bent out of shape when I teased her about it…" Haymitch muttered to himself. "Then what's she so happy about?" He asked Peeta.
"Your guess is as good as mine…" Peeta replied, turning to look at Katniss. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of her – her long hair spilling over her shoulders, her brow knit in concentration as she prepared their tea, her lips pursed ever so slighty…
"She doesn't deserve you…" Haymitch said, catching Peeta's attention. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that, but Peeta still thought it was an unfair statement.
"Maybe she just needs to be reminded of that…" Haymitch added thoughtfully.
At that moment, Katniss came to stand in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.
"Tea's ready," she told them quickly – and with a smile – before turning back toward the kitchen counter.
Peeta spent the evening before the Harvest Festival in town, working late in the bakery on last minute batches of muffins and cupcakes and frosted cookies. He and Thom and Marc and Theo had set up all of the canvas tents in the square earlier that afternoon, hammering the stakes and pushing the metal poles into the ground to hold the coverings in place. He stayed up even later at Katniss's, tying colorful ribbons around individual bags of cookies, putting together the pastry boxes he'd ordered from the Capitol, and arranging everything he'd have to cart to the middle of town in the morning.
Katniss helped him for a while, just as she had the past few nights. He wasn't so anxious about the festival when she was there, sitting next to him on the couch, her skillful fingers tying quick knots to close the packets of cookies. He smiled and almost laughed though, to see that she'd wound the ribbon into knots used for snares – not the simple bowknots he'd been tying. But he didn't want it to seem as if he were poking fun at her, so he kept his mouth shut as they worked in amiable silence. Their hands would brush every so often and their eyes would meet – blue locking hold of gray – and they'd share soft smiles, and then get back to work.
Katniss stood and stretched and climbed the stairs to bed at some point, but Peeta hadn't looked at the clock to mark the time. When he finally had everything he needed boxed up and stacked near the back door, he called it a night. He found her sound asleep, her breathing shallow and steady, all worry and sorrow wiped from her face. He was careful not to wake her when he slipped under the covers a little while later, placing a kiss on her bare arm. With impending winter, he knew she needed to invest in some long-sleeved nightgowns.
When Peeta awoke early the next morning, Katniss lay curled into his warmth. Some nights they ended up far apart in the bed – usually when the weather was warm – and one would inevitably end up with more covers than the other. It was usually Katniss who won that battle. And at other times, they would spend the entire night wrapped in each other's arms, waking in the same position they'd fallen asleep in. Those were often the more peaceful nights, when the nightmares were scarce or not at all.
But that morning was quite cold, and when he moved to get out of bed, Katniss opened her eyes – heavy-lidded from sleep – and made a small noise of protest. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment longer, but then her dark lashes fluttered closed and she was sound asleep again.
Thom met Peeta at Katniss's back step and helped the baker load everything into his cart. The former coal miner had plenty of room to spare, so he stopped off to help others load up their things as well.
Peeta walked on ahead and met Marc at the bakery. The town square was already quite busy that morning with folks setting up their tables and chairs, hanging signs and rolling out swathes of fabric to cover the furniture used for booths. Thom showed up not too long after, leading horse and cart right up to the white tents. Peeta waited for the other folks to unload their wares from Thom's cart before he hopped in to grab his boxes.
Using spare ribbon, Peeta hung a large banner underneath the edging of the tent. He'd painted it on his most recent day off from the bakery. It wasn't a work of art, but he'd worked hard on it nonetheless, painting the large letters a cheerful orange and adding on little cakes and cookies as a whimsical border.
He left Edda and Theo to man the bakery while he and Marc worked the morning shift at the Harvest Festival. Peeta had promised to trade with the married couple after a few hours so that they too could enjoy the event.
Peeta had already sold several muffins and a few cupcakes to happy customers when Katniss arrived. The sun was rising behind her as she approached the booth, the light forming a glowing halo around her dark hair. Peeta had to squint as he beamed up at her.
"Good morning, ma'am," Peeta greeted her as he'd greeted all of his customers that morning, his eyes bright, his smile slight.
She carefully inspected the items on his booth, playing along. She greeted him in turn, and asked his recommendation. He suggested the blueberry muffins.
"They're baked with something extra special," he told her softly, as if he were revealing some trade secret.
"Oh?" She responded inquisitively.
"Yeah, see, the blueberries were picked from this very region," he replied.
And it was true. The berries were from the bucketsful they'd picked earlier that summer, then had frozen. But he didn't stop at that statement. Something else spurred him to go on. He didn't know if it was the simple beauty of that morning or the way she had smiled at him just then, but he opened his mouth to say more.
"And by someone very special to me." He added with a wink. Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink, and he knew it was too cool to blame it on the weather.
Peeta watched her for a short while as she ate the blueberry muffin and strolled the stalls. But soon his booth was teeming with people and he lost sight of her dark braid in the crowd. The blueberry muffins were soon gone, and then he ran out of bagels and other breakfast pastries. Marc had filled a large metal cooler with ice and bottled drinks, and those were selling fast as well – they were a good accompaniment to the baked goods as well as Sae's heartier fare. Peeta couldn't sell warm drinks from his booth, though, so he had to send his loyal patrons to the bakery for their morning cups of coffee and tea.
Once the morning rush slowed down, Peeta was able to chat more with the familiar faces that stopped by. Thom came by and bought their last banana nut muffin, eating the treat while leaning against one of the tent posts.
"You should see all the paperwork I've had to fill out just to run for mayor…" Thom said, tossing the muffin wrapper in a large trashcan placed near the tents.
"I mean, they want us – the districts and the citizens – to have more freedom, but whew, they want to know all my business. Have me swear to all kinds of things…" Thom continued.
There were a few others running against Thom for mayor – an older man from District 11, Elger Duncan; Martie Cray, another former coal miner from Twelve; and Nezer Lovell from Eight. Thom's victory was pretty well assured, but he still had to follow all of the strict procedures. There was also a six-man town council to be voted on, with ten townsfolk vying for the positions.
"Oh, looks like I have to go!" Thom said as he scanned the square. One section was set up with games for the children, and they were lined up for a jaunt on the bay mare Thom used as a carthorse.
There were a few others who lingered, including Sorka, the butcher's youngest daughter. She was around Peeta's age with long blonde hair and plenty of freckles. She giggled as she clutched the cupcake she'd bought, batting her pale eyelashes. Peeta knew she wasn't there because of Marc – he was married. Or at least he hoped the girl wouldn't try to shamelessly flirt with a married man. But Peeta was quite certain that her actions were directed toward him, and no one else. He smiled politely but craned his neck to gaze past her, looking for Katniss. He didn't see her, though. Sorka finally left when he stopped laughing at her jokes. She was soon replaced by several other girls – including a few that were either too old or too young for him – who blushed and giggled and were so excited to buy cookies or cupcakes from the Peeta Mellark.
Haymitch stopped by a few hours into the festival, already drunk as he added even more liquor to a mug of coffee he'd carried all the way from the Victor's Village. The older man grabbed a scone from Peeta's booth.
"You have to pay for that, you know!" Peeta called out after his former mentor.
Haymitch sent a lazy wave in Peeta's direction and sauntered off toward the edge of the square, taking another big bite of the scone. The baker watched the older man approach one of the shops and take a seat on its step next to a dark-haired girl. Katniss.
Once they finally hit an actual lull in customers, Peeta left Marc in charge of the booth and headed toward Katniss. Haymitch was no longer sitting beside her, but was now laughing loudly with Bim Praydor – another town drunk. Peeta eased himself down onto the step, rubbing his left leg where it ached. He felt her lean toward him slightly and his body thrummed happily.
"Well, I think the festival is a success," he said cheerfully.
He gazed off toward the throng of people milling about the town square. It looked as if the entire district had shown up. That wasn't much, not since the firebombing, but it was more than Peeta had expected. Katniss let out a soft sound of assent, and Peeta felt her small fingers rest on top of his hand.
"I have Edda and Theo busy making more cookies and cupcakes. I'm almost sold out." He added, turning his hand over and giving hers a squeeze.
He looked from the crowd back to Katniss. She was gazing up at him, her mouth curved into a sweet smile. And he felt his heart sing in that moment, as cheerful as any song that had crossed her lips as of late.