The fragrant cloud of Haymitch's liquor is being valiantly battled against. The air reeks of perfume, strong stuff, smelling vaguely of something once alive.
Effie's arrival is announced by none other than Effie herself. Her voice trills through the air, shaking tree limbs, kicking up dust. Gravel crunches under spike heels. It was a cheerful symphony awakening the victors.
Katniss raises her head from Peeta's chest, squinting.
His fingers thread through her hair. "Go back to sleep."
He pulls her head down quickly; not roughly, more insistent that they pretend they didn't hear Effie across the road.
"Peeta…" she chides wearily, knowing they can't prolong the inevitable.
"Shh…" he rubs gentle circles against her back. "Go back to sleep."
She sighs softly, closing her eyes. "Honey…"
"please." His lips quiver. He tries to hide it.
She presses her cheek closer to his ribcage. "Alright. Go back to sleep."
Neither of them sleep; but they each pretend not to know it. Effie and Haymitch's quarreling rages through the air, soaring through their window. Her fingers curl around his. He rubs his thumb over her hand.
They just try to breathe, and to ignore the pounding at the front door.
"Hello?" Effie trills, "Anyone up yet?"
Katniss groans, and from the look on her face, Peeta lets out a cross between laugh and sigh.
He pulls the covers off her, kissing her brow.
"I'll make some tea." He says softly, smiling a little, as if the whole solution to their problems came in a mug.
She sighs, pulling herself up. Her head lulled to the side tiredly, closing her eyes for a moment, wishing to collapse down onto the mattress.
She wanders to the closet, which she avoids. She always wears the same clothes shoved in her bureau. Pants she can wear to climb trees. Shirts that she can slip on…and off. The plainest of sundresses. Nothing flashy, with arrays of pleats and buttons. Nothing to frame her. She could feel Cinna's disapproval of how she presented herself.
And in the closet hung his creations. The closest she ever came to a glimpse into his mind were the dresses he envisioned. She trusted him, befriended him, felt twisted with guilt from his absence, but the lack of understanding of him made her stomach curl.
Cinna. His simple, direct words and appearance. Someone who created such grandeur, such elegance, for a sprawling stumbling little girl. Who made her unforgettable.
She owes so much to Peeta in the first games, for capturing the hearts of her audience, but before any of that she owed Cinna for catching their eye. Without the eye there was no face to their romance. The girl in the gown of flames? Oh yes, she is loved by all, especially the sweet, humble boy who wants nothing more than to live with her.
She breathes out her nose evenly, trying to release the thoughts in one quick breath.
Peeta slides behind her, watching her consider the clothes.
"I told Effie we'd join her at Haymitch's in a half hour."
"Poor Haymitch," she croons.
She glances over her shoulder at him, and the intensity of his gaze makes her nervous. She twists back around, trying not to let her shoulders rise to shield her neck.
He still stares at her, her imperfections. Not quite flaws, but things that were not perfectly smooth or clear. Frayed ends of her hair, splitting like the limbs of a tree. Nails that looked sawed at. Dead, dry skin on her feet.
They'd be gone soon, snipped and sanded and smoothed away for the cameras. She's a little less Katniss. A little less his.
She pulls out a light blue dress with a swinging skirt, holding it towards him to consider.
"It's nice, against your skin. Makes your hair look really rich brown."
The perks of living with an artist. She smiles slightly.
"That settles it." she pulls on the dress, and her boots, because her compromises only go so far on the trivial details.
She considers a few more of Cinna's masterpieces, carefully folding them into a bag, just in case.
She braids her hair carefully, and fluffs her skirt. They hear the faint whistle of the kettle.
"Tea?" he offers hopefully.
Her mouth is dry. "Not thirsty." She lies, avoiding his eyes.
It's hard to forget his face the night before. Him pinning her down. Poking into her body.
"We might as well spare both of them from each other." She says, lifting her bag.
Peeta nods, glancing at his own neatly packed bag by the door.
"Might as well." He agrees, shamefaced.
They need each other to get through this week. But they're too scared of each other right now.
They walk in silence to Haymitch's house after Peeta shuts off the stove.
Effie is perched on Haymitch's couch, her body going to great lengths not to touch any more of the stained fabric than absolutely necessary. She offers a small smile, pink lips turning up. Her hair is no longer elaborately pinned and coifed, but falls down her back in cascading ringlets. Not as ostentatious, but grand. She looks pretty.
Haymitch slouches, forced into a button-down shirt. Porridge is dripping down his face.
"We have some catching up to do, how have you two been?"
Effie asks this in a trivial manner, as if they've been on holiday.
Katniss offers a demure smile.
"We've been positively awful."
A/N sorry for the short chapter after such a long wait. Theater things. Tech week. It's over now. Free time. Yay!