The Secret Life of Bees
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belong to Ms. Suzanne Collins, Scholastic, and Lionsgate Entertainment. The Secret Life of Bees belongs to Sue Monk Kidd. By My Side belongs to Ben Harper.
Thanks to: SavannahHershey, my beta and fangirl-in-crime, and orea domina (are you reading A Thousand Kisses Deep? It's getting even better)!
Ships: Katniss/Peeta, (Haymitch/Effie, Delly/Thom, Gale/OC)
Summary: Peeta's new bakery opens in town, and some surprising visitors drop by; can Katniss keep it together for Peeta?
Rating: M for mature language, violence, and explicit sexual situations.
A/N: Sorry for the ugly sobbing that ensued (evidently) after my last chapter. FEEL ALL THE FEELINGS, FANDOM. This chapter is light and fun, paving the way for some new character development and relationships. As usual, thanks for the reviews, comments, and criticisms—read and enjoy! (Smut is coming in the next two chapters, double-pinky promise.)
Tumblr: parachutesfromhaymitch
AO3: pippiblondestocking
Chapter 14: By My Side
Don't you get ahead of me,
And I won't leave you behind.
If you get unhappy,
You've got to show me a sign.
"KATNISS KATNISS KATNISS!" I wake up next to a very excited Peeta Mellark, literally jumping up and down in our bed, making the very walls shake. I'm not one for such energy in the mornings; I like coming to quietly, slowly opening up my eyes, curling closer towards Peeta. But this morning, he's obviously been awake for quiet awhile, and has other ideas. He's like a little boy on the morning of his birthday.
"Mmmph," I reply, reaching out for him to pull him into a long kiss. He allows it for a few moments, then breaks it off.
"C'mon, Katniss, wake up! We need to get going!" he says excitedly, tickling me. I'm breathless, but find the energy to sit up and take his face in my hands. Peeta, you know I'm not a morning person, I think to myself, unable to chastise him.
"UGH, Peeta, I know, today's a big big day! But can we just take things one at a time, namely, getting me out of bed and into a cup of coffee," I moan breathlessly. Peeta shakes his head furiously.
There's no love like lost love
And no pain like a broken heart.
There's no love like you and me,
And no loss like us apart.
"No time for breakfast—we'll eat at the bakery—time for a shower!" Peeta replies, scooping me into his arms, running me into the bathroom, and turning the shower on full blast. Luckily, we sleep naked, so I don't have any clothes to ruin. I sit there in the shower, enjoying the steam, until Peeta barges in and pulls me onto my feet and against his hard body.
"Katniss," he says into my neck, "we need to look our best today." Peeta gives me a little nip and I crane my head up, drinking the water than runs off his jaw. "Come on, Kat, seriously, lather up!" I'd rather let him lather me up, which is what he means anyway, so he furiously scrubs away with a gel that can only be described as gingery-orange. I wash my own hair, taking care to disentangle it, and admire Peeta's body in the steam. His broad, straight back and shoulders, his strong legs, his perfect pelvic bones… I start touching myself briefly as his back is turned to me, and I stop as he turns around.
"Good enough," Peeta muses, cutting off the hot water, wrapping himself into a towel, and picking me up and out. I reluctantly start drying off, one limb at a time.
"Are you ready for this, Peet?" I ask quietly as we're both staring into the mirror; I'm fixing my hair into two long-ish braids, and Peeta takes care with his part for once. Our skin grafts are finally starting to look like our own hides again.
"I like it when you wear two braids, Kat," he says huskily. "It gives me something to hold on to." I giggle.
"Are you ready?" I inquire, seriously, "Today's a big, big day!" I mock in my best Capitol accent. Peeta gives me his most charming smile.
"Are you kidding me? I'm finally opening my bakery today!" he answers brilliantly, and I can't help but be excited for him.
"Promise" is, "promise" is only a word—
And when softly spoken is never heard,
And a heart is not a stone,
And is fragile when alone.
Today is the first day of the Harvest Festival (which has been rescheduled accordingly with the actual harvest at the end of October) and Peeta is opening his bakery today. He's only been working on it since he came home in March; he's poured his heart and soul into it. Ever since he started baking bread for the people returning home, I know that the bakery has propelled him forward everyday, giving him purpose, giving his life meaning. It's been a long road, returning to the shell of District Twelve, but everyone pulled together and decided that the Harvest Festival would mark the resettling of the district.
Other shops in the Hob and market have been opening, but Peeta wanted to wait until the Harvest Festival to open his shop—to make it something really special. Unlike many other people, Peeta isn't opening the bakery to make money—it's his way of life. He even joined the Merchants' League in town, and they all meet once a month to discuss commercial activity and prospects in District Twelve; he's its youngest member. I'm proud of Peeta for taking such an interest in his craft and Twelve's prosperity.
But, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terribly nervous about today. I'm nervous about being on display all day, talking to people and answering their questions. It's the first time since the Victors' Tour Ball that I'll be required to be in public and on top of my game for so long. Peeta's not nervous—rather, he's excited. He's always been the charming one, dreadfully handsome with a dazzling smile, and good with his words. You ask him to put on a show, and he'll ask you which part you want him to play. (No wonder Coin liked him more.)
By my side,
By my side—
Won't you be by my side?
The past week, I'd been agonizing over with Haymitch in the mornings as I made honey and beeswax. I found myself having panic attacks about being in the public eye again—it was all well and good for me to be behind the scenes as the bookkeeper, working in obscurity above the bakery, but it was another for me to be front and center.
"Haymitch, what if I have a panic attack and shut down?" I would ask frantically.
Haymitch would take a sip of his vodka and grapefruit juice and roll his eyes. "You won't have a panic attack, sweetheart. Peeta will be right there with you. You only freak out when he's gone," Haymitch smirked. Fair point. Haymitch: 1. Everdeen: 0.
"Haymitch, what if I say something stupid, or wrong?" I cried.
"You always say something stupid or wrong or mean, so just deal with it and move on," he'd reply. Haymitch: 2. Everdeen: 0.
"Haymitch, what if I do something wrong?"
"What could you possibly do wrong, sweetheart? You just need to stand there and be pretty and smile and wave. That's it, that's the bottom line." Haymitch: 3. Everdeen: 0.
"Haymitch, what if nobody comes?" I voiced my greatest fear, the one that Peeta himself would not acknowledge or give voice to.
Then Haymitch would laugh mirthlessly. "They're not coming to see you, sweetheart. They're coming to see Peeta." And Haymitch would, of course, be right. Haymitch: + infinity. Everdeen: 0.
I'd ask Haymitch to try some honey, see what he thought, and then ask him another final question.
"Why do I need to be there, Haymitch? I'd be there, if only for Peeta, but why is it so important to everyone else?" I'd say very quietly.
"Because people need to see you and Peeta together and happy and functioning. It gives them hope. It makes them happy. It makes them think that everything might be okay. After all, everyone loves a pair of star-crossed lovers. They need to see their mockingjay and her rock. That's it, that's the bottom line," Haymitch would finally answer. "Just remember—you're there for the boy. Nothing more, nothing less. Think about that when you start to panic." I nodded, slowly.
"You're right, Haymitch," I always replied. This was for Peeta—my Peeta.
"Katniss, stop being such a bitch and think about Peeta, okay, sweetheart? Got that? Good. Get outta my sight. You're killing my morning buzz."
By my side,
By my side—
Won't you be by my side?
I replay those conversations in my head over and over again as I get ready this morning. Peeta is already dressed and pacing for me downstairs; I know he's anxious to get on with it, and I'm dawdling. I pick out a red plaid skirt and a low-cut black sweater; a little sex appeal never hurt anyone, right? (Besides, Peeta likes this sweater.) I pull on my fabulous knee-high black patent leather boots that Cinna designed for me. After a moment of thought, I pin the mockingjay to my sweater. I need a little flare, I reckon. I finish by pinning the braids across my head, taking care to tuck each one under one another. I look presentable, even pretty almost.
Stomping downstairs unintentionally, I find Peeta in his living room, nervously pacing in front of the fireplace. He stops and smiles at me, taking a deep breath and coming to me in what seems like one footstep.
"Katniss, you look beautiful," Peeta kisses the corners of my life, "you're so perfect. You look just like you did on our first day of school."
"You clean up nice, too," I say, blushing. Peeta always looks nice (if you ask me) and today he's wearing his finest khaki trousers and a light blue button down shirt that matches his eyes. We make quite a pair, I think. I reach up and button his top button and smooth his collar, and he chuckles.
"You hate that, don't you, Kat?" he teases, his hands trailing down my back to my rear end.
"I don't want you to look sloppy, Peeta Mellark," I say in my best Effie voice. He grabs my hand and we rush to the door.
"Ready, Katniss Everdeen?" I just nod my head and smile.
"Whatever you say, Peeta Mellark."
My care for you
Is from the ground up to the sky.
It's over under up above and
Down below and to the side.
All of my fears about the day seem to be vaguely unjustified. Haymitch is right, I'm just a worrywart who can't be happy unless she is miserable, I think. As promised, there is coffee at the bakery, and Peeta lets me try anything I want for breakfast. His team has been there since very early this morning, making sure that everything is ready to go. Peeta puts a few artistic finishing touches on some cookies and cakes, but he is keeping his gut reaction to control everything in check. I know how difficult it is for him to let someone else be in control of his bakery, but he couldn't do it all on his own, so he has to trust them. His employees really seem to like him, and they just respond to him, like keys on a piano. I manage to sneak away upstairs for a bit under the pretense of working on the books, but sooner rather than later, Peeta drags me back down.
"C'mon, Katniss, we're opening! WE'RE OPENING!" Peeta squeals, and squeezes my hand as the doors open and people begin flooding in. Some faces are familiar (from Twelve and Thirteen), but many are new. Peeta is there, shaking everyone's hands, with a kind word for each smile, and a hearty hug for those who want one. Today, everyone gets a free cookie, and the children in particular are thrilled. Peeta lets them pick out their own frosted masterpiece, and encourages them to come back for seconds.
One woman from Thirteen comes up to me and pulls me into a hug. "Oh, Miss Everdeen, this is so wonderful!" she exclaims. I can't remember her name, and this causes me to blush even more. "The children have never had cookies before—they're so excited! Your Peeta—he's such a good man." I feel a smile come across my cheeks.
"He is, he really is. I'm so lucky to have him. And I'm Katniss Mellark, here," I reply, giving her hand a tight squeeze. She seems to understand what that means and she leaves me to go after one of her boys that has ducked under a display. Peeta flashes one of the smiles he saves only for me from across the room in my direction; I wonder if he's heard what I told the woman from Thirteen. Maybe I wanted him to.
The line at the counter is wrapping around the store and out the door when I hear a great commotion at the back of the line. When I finally get a look around Peeta's great frame, I see none other than Miss Effie Trinket perched on the arms of Haymitch Abernathy. Reflexively, I break away and run to Effie, nearly tackling her in a hug. She looks like a fashion icon, as usual, with her bright red hair pinned up around her face with bunches of pearls, and she's wearing a black and white stripped pencil-skirt and fitted blazer with red pumps. Even in District Twelve, after a rebellion and a war, Effie Trinket looks like a fashion plate.
My care for you
Is from the ground up to the sky.
It's over under up above and
Down below and to the side.
Peeta has joined our embrace now, pulling Effie into a bear hug.
"EFFIE! IT'S INCREDIBLE TO SEE YOU!" Peeta exclaims. Effie is blushing, even under all of her make-up.
"Well, Peeta, today is a big, big day—how could I miss it!" Effie chirps. She smiles at me and grasps my hand with such verve.
"Katniss, darling, you look wonderful—such a LADY!" Effie says, taking me in with great pleasure. "The boy has done wonders for you. He's put more than just color in your cheeks," she jokes, pinching my cheek a bit. I blush the color of a ripe beet, and nod.
"Effie, what are you doing here? How did you know?" I ask breathlessly. Haymitch is with Peeta, making the rounds and greeting people around the bakery. (They're quite the tag team, when they want to be, those two.)
Now it's Effie's turn to smile and blush. "Well, dear, you know that Haymitch and I have been… in touch. And when he told me about Peeta and the bakery and the Harvest Festival, he invited me to come. And a lady never rejects an invitation from a gentleman," she whispers and lets it sink in to me for a few moments before kissing my cheek.
"So you and Haymitch… you've been… talking?" I muse. Effie nods. "How long have you been seeing each other?" Effie shrugs, lowering her eyelashes seductively.
"About a year now," she replies flirtatiously. (A year ago, Haymitch saved her from the Capitol and kept her alive. After all this time, I finally put two and two together.)
I smile. "You'll need to come visit us more often, Effie!" And I mean it.
There's no use in pretending,
No use in saving face,
For my love is never ending,
And you are my saving grace.
Just as I'm getting over my shell-shock regarding Effie, a very blond Delly Cartwright bursts into the bakery. Peeta sees her and immediately sweeps her into a big hug, and I feel a pang of jealousy until Delly rounds on me, showering me in kisses and hugs. I cannot escape her embrace or lips, so I simply return her affections as best I can.
"Katniss! It's so wonderful to see you! I just got home, and when I heard that Peeta was opening his bakery, I had to come see you all!" Delly shrieks.
"How'd you know that I'd be here?" I ask weakly. Delly just rolls her big brown eyes.
"Katniss, come on, I might be blonde, but I'm not clueless—you and Peeta are inseparable! Where else would you be?" Delly gushes. I feel badly, because I should never have suspected her motives, but I guess I'm still bitter about all the time she spent with Peeta in Thirteen. I smile at her and she just hugs me. Good, kind, sweet Delly, always finding the good in people.
"That's a good question, Delly," I reply. She gives me a sad half-smile.
"What do you do with yourself all day now, Katniss?"
It takes me a moment to think about my answer. "I fish. I garden. I bee-keep. I work here, with Peeta. I don't hunt anymore, Delly," I answer, my eyes falling to the floor, like I'm ashamed. A squeeze of Delly's hand tells me that I shouldn't be.
"I didn't know you could bake, Katniss," she continues with a smile, pressing me for information.
By my side,
By my side—
Won't you be by my side?
I feel Peeta come up behind me and wrap me into a deep hug in his arms, resting his head on the top of my braids. "Katniss can't bake to save her life, Delly. But she keeps my books," Peeta laughs, kissing the top of my head. Public displays of affection are still not quite my thing, but for Peeta, I can bear them.
Delly laughs that loud, bright infectious laugh of hers. "Oh, well, Katniss was always good at math in school. And if I remember correctly, you never quite liked numbers, did you, Peeta?" Delly says. Peeta shakes his head and rolls his eyes, letting me go, and continues to meet and greet people.
I hold Delly's hands a little tighter; she reminds me of home, of District Twelve before everything happens, and I can't hold her good nature against her anymore. "I'm happy to see you, Delly. District Twelve wasn't the same without you!" I say sincerely, grasping her hands. She smiles.
"It's good to be back, Katniss. Speaking of back, where are all the single men?" Delly giggles. She hasn't changed a jot. And just like that, I think that I, Katniss Everdeen, found a girlfriend in District Twelve. Peeta will be so pleased.
I find Effie in the crowd before she and Haymitch leave. I invite them to dinner, but she kindly rejects our offer and explains that Haymitch has made reservations in town, and that hopefully, I understand. Once I've assured her that Peeta and I aren't offended, I ask her one more question, because Effie is still our go-to person for supplies from the Capitol (she'll never get out of that responsibility, seeing as no one else wants to deal with us).
"Effie? Could you send me some beekeeping boxes and bee combs?" I ask, almost shyly. Effie looks at me quizzically, because she doesn't understand what I'm telling her, what I'm asking her.
"Eff, I don't hunt anymore, I tend to the bees, and I'd really like to cultivate a colony this winter. I'll keep them in Haymitch's yard, and I make honey and candles and medicine, and I'd ask the local carpenter, but he's so busy, and this is frivolous," I stammer, and Effie grins.
"I know, Haymitch has been telling me. I'm impressed!" Effie laughs. "But of course, I'll send you the materials; how many do you want?" I didn't think she'd catch on so quickly.
"Six boxes, maybe thirty-six combs? Just to get me started," I surmise. They'll surely fit next to Haymitch's geese.
"You don't need me to send you any bees now, do you, Katniss?" Effie asks, a look of uncertainty creeping into her eyes. It's obvious that she has no idea how this works. City-slicker. Or maybe it's the fear of the tracker jackers, we'll never know exactly what they did to Effie… I shake my head, and she smiles in relief. "Oh, thank goodness. And you know, Katniss, hunting was never very ladylike with which to begin! You're learning your manners!" She kisses my cheek as Haymitch takes her arms, and waves goodbye to Peeta and me as Haymitch sweeps her off into the sunset.
"Those two crazy kids," Peeta sighs, trying his best to sound like a grizzled old man. He still elicits a chuckle out of me.
The first day of the bakery was a success; we don't leave until late in the evening, and Peeta delegates the morning responsibilities to some of the bakers from Nine. "I need my beauty sleep, guys," Peeta jokes as we're finally leaving. I tell him that I'll be in early to work on the accounts tomorrow, but it isn't happening tonight. I'm exhausted—emotionally and physically, and Peeta carries me home in his arms like a small girl. Up the stairs, and into our big, soft bed. Peeta collapses next to me, and draws patterns on my cheek. I smile briefly.
"Good opening day, Peeta?" I ask sleepily, yawning inadvertently. He pulls me ever closer and nods.
"Perfect, Kat. Thanks."
"For what?" I'm such an ignorant twat, my mind shouts, he's thanking you. Play nice!
"Just being there. Putting on a show, even though you didn't want to. I need you more than you know." I'll never stop owing my boy with the bread.
"Always, Peet." For the first time in months, we fall asleep fully clothed.
By my side,
By my side—
Won't you be by my side?