AN: Wickedlyclever and the prompt: Katniss failing multiple times at telling Peeta how much she loves him. (Is that too vague?)


"Ugh, Peeta Mellark I – " The slurred words die on my lips, my mind racing as I realize what was about to spill forth.

I love you.

No, I don't. That's ridiculous. Peeta's been my friend since we waddled around in diapers. This is stupid.

"Huh?" His returning soft sigh, the brush of his breath against my hair as I tuck my head below his chin.

"I like drinking with you, friend," I finish lamely to his hiccupping laughter.

Goddamn, that was close.


"Come on Kitten, let's get you those freezies," Peeta pipes loudly, stepping out of his rusted out truck and walking around the hood to open my door for me.

This is the third time this year I've lost my voice from a cold and I'm getting real tired of my body's failing attempt at staying healthy. Thankfully, Peeta has been my proud Man Servant every time I seem to feel the prickle in the back of my throat. It's been especially helpful when I'm barely able to get around my house, let alone the town, to fulfill my cravings like the one I'm having right now.

Helping my aching bones down from the high step of his front seat he jokes, "I'm glad you kept your attire classy, Kitten." Swinging our hands playfully while we walk towards the store I side eye the hell out of him for his mockery. Sure, he can joke about my X-Men pyjamas, but I know he still owns those Pokemon boxers I bought him a few years back. If I could talk I'd remind him.

But I can't.

"We may or may not have a dilemma here." I cock my eyebrow in his direction as we swing into the frozen food aisle. Reaching the end, I turn towards the sweet confection options and scan the freezers for any sight of what I'm craving so badly. I'm so lost in my searching it takes me a moment to even notice Peeta's hand on the back of my neck, his fingers softly kneading the tight muscles there. It feels so good, so unbelievably good, that I nearly collapse in a pool of myself.

Despite my cold, despite how gross and unprepared for real life I am, I can't help but feel a burning in my gut and a heady desire coursing through me at his touch. If I could, I'd probably purr like the kitten he's so aptly nicknamed me.

This isn't me. What am I thinking?

I turn towards him quickly, knocking his hand from my neck and looking up at him as he stares down at me with his own mirrored look of surprise.

Like he was surprised he was doing it too.

"There aren't any frozen freezies," he whispers, his body mere inches from mine. I don't break eye contact, my lips forming the words that I've been stomping down since I realized that I love him.

No, I don't.

I clear my throat thickly, wincing at the pain it causes and seemingly breaking us from the spell his touch had put me under. Motioning my hand towards the freezer limply Peeta takes the hint and grabs out a package of Rocket popsicles holding it up to me with the wide smile I love.

"I know you like these, so your lack of words will have to confirm this is what we're getting. Let's blow this popsicle stand." He doesn't take my hand this time and I'm left following behind him slowly, my joints stiff and protesting.

By the time I reach the check out he's already bought and paid for my frozen treat, much to my annoyance. I forget it though as soon as he's helped me back in his truck and has handed me one from the box before starting up the engine and heading back towards my house.

I know something from that trip to the grocer has changed things for us. I know it as soon as Peeta rolls out of my drive way without staying to hang out and giving me a tired excuse of him having homework. Trying to brush it off, I flick the popsicle stick into the trash and crawl under my sheets to sleep away this cold.


My standard common cold quickly turns a darker shade a week after Popsicle Gate. I'm not sure if it's because my Man Servant – my best friend, my confidant, my dandelion in the spring – has almost disappeared off the face of the earth or because my body has simply given up, but either way it's nearly three in the morning when Mother takes me to the emergency room for my strikingly high fever.

I hadn't even noticed, not really, as my dreams echoed into vivid realities and I started to have difficultly defining the bleary lines of reality and my hallucinations.

Registered, admitted, laying in an uncomfortable hospital bed on the seventh floor, I swooped in and out of clarity, vaguely catching the doctor mentioning that my fever was making me lack lucidity and that I seemed to be suffering from a wild case of pneumonia.

Wild like those Rattata's that I could never beat in Pokemon that just came out of the field from nowhere! Like the dandelion's in the meadow.

"Where's Peeta?" I'm sure I said it multiple times, though maybe it only passed my lips in a thick whisper that was barely audible against the background hum of the hospital. Mother didn't seem to hear me, too busy staring out the window at the night sky.

Sleep caught me unaware, my body slipping down into the hot bindings of drugs and feverish dreams. I know for a while there I must have been thrashing, I remember my mother telling me to settle as she wiped a cloth against my forehead.

"What?" I gasped as the reality of it all came floating back in. My arms jerked heavily, my wrists caught in the restraints that I didn't remember being part of the deal. "Mum?" I hissed. Breathing was hard and it felt like there was an elephant on my chest. I wasn't sure whether it was the panic or the pneumonia but I wanted it to stop.

When no reply came I jerked again on the restraints, my eyes finally adjusting to the darkness and my words crackling across the room. In the corner something rustled and I panicked, dreams and nightmares crashing back through my mind as possibilities at the cause of the sound.

"Mum!" I cried out again despite the burn in my throat.

"Shh," a smooth voice hushed me, a warm hand coming to rest on my forehead before guiding me back down. "It's okay, let me undo these," Peeta whispered in the dark of the room. His hands made quick work of the restraints as he explained that I was pulling out my IV's while the fever was making me hallucinate. "Your mom went home to look after Prim," he finishes as he pulls his chair to the side of the bed. He doesn't even hesitate to take my hand in his warm palms.

"What day is it?" I croak. I'm so confused. How long have I been here? What is he doing here?

"Hey, don't talk Kitten. You're real sick but they say you're getting better. It's pneumonia, a pretty bad version. It's been two days that we've been here and –"

"Two?" I break in, my eyes going wide. It didn't seem like two.

"Yep. Your mom brought you in at night and they've kept you here on antibiotics and other medical things that I have no purpose telling you about. I'm glad you're back awake though, you had me scared," he admits lowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

It doesn't make sense. I haven't seen him since the weirdness in the grocer. Why is he even here?

"You? Long?" I prompt weakly. He grins widely and brushes the flyaway hairs back from my face.

"Forever."

What?

Laughing at the confused expression on my face he squeezes my hand and brings it up towards his chin until it's tucked against his neck.

"I'm sorry I've been AWOL." There's a pause as he adjusts in his seat and looks away nervously. "Do you remember what you said in the grocer?" I stare at him blankly. I didn't say anything. I couldn't talk.

"No?"

"Well, okay. That's honest because you didn't have a voice. But your mouth. Do you remember what you were thinking?"

My mind flies as I try to remember.

And then I do.

"I love you." It comes out like a dying cat, oddly befitting for me at this very moment. My cheeks burn as I look away and take my hand back from in between his so I can cover my face.

"I love you too," he states carefully, slowly so that I can process it from behind my hand. "I have for forever."

I don't even have to struggle to put together sentences as he pries my hand away and looks into my eyes without any joke or any fear or any hesitation.

"I love you, it just took me pneumonia to say it out loud."

I love you. It's not ridiculous. It's not stupid.

It's true.