Peeta was dragging his arse big time, absolutely buggered. He'd been out on a call with the brigade until past two in the morning, then at the bakery at 4:30 to start the morning prep. It was a good thing he had it down to a science since he did at least half of it with his eyes closed.
But when he saw her climbing the bakery steps just before six, he felt far more awake.
It was unlike the first time he'd seen Katniss there, this was the confident professional tap-tap-tapping on the glass door, a small smile on her pretty face. She was dressed for the day in slim black pants and a breezy green blouse, professional clothes even though Peeta knew she'd change into scrubs once she got to the hospital.
In truth, he hadn't been sure he'd ever see her again, outside his fantasies.
She'd been so angry when he'd seen her the night before, hurt too, he thought, though she'd hidden it well. He couldn't even blame her. He hadn't meant to keep his friendship with Finn and Annie secret, hell, he thought she'd already have known when he'd shown up at her place that morning. But when he'd realised she didn't, well, it'd been like a gift. Like a blank slate. A chance to show her who he was.
Except that had led her to thinking he was a creep.
But she was there, at his bakery. That had to mean something.
"G'day, Doc," Peeta said as he pulled open the door, and Katniss scowled at him. "Sorry," he amended with a chuckle. "Good morning, Katniss."
"Good morning to you too," she said, her voice like a caress. She had the best voice, authoritative but also warm and rich. He'd love to hear that voice screaming his name.
"Have you come for brekky?" They weren't technically open, but he didn't care a whit. Most everything was ready anyway.
Her silver eyes twinkled at the suggestion, and he relaxed a little. She might still be angry with him, but she didn't seem upset anymore. "Maybe partly," she said, peeking around his shoulder to look at the chalkboard menu. He snickered, and guided her further inside, his hand on her back. Her attention caught on the cheese buns that were his bakery specialty, and he slipped around the counter to grab one, plating it instead of putting it into a bakery bag. He'd already made that mistake once.
"Have a seat while I warm this up for you," he said, pointing her towards one of the café tables. It was a risk, seating her there where other people might see and assume he was open. But a risk he'd take to spend a few minutes with her.
The first streaks of sunrise were painting the sky, and Katniss was watching through the window when he brought her a warm cheese bun and spiced tea. When she turned, the pale light filtered through her loose hair, crowning her like an angel. His heart lurched unfamiliarly. This was more than a simple crush, and he wasn't sure what to do with it.
He sat across from her with a cup of tea of his own. She sighed over her chai, a sound that had him half hard in spite of his exhaustion and uncertainty.
"I also wanted to know if you were on call tonight." She didn't meet his eyes when she asked, but her words were enough to get his heart pumping.
"I'm not," he said, a languid smile spreading. "Were you thinking you might like to spend the night with me?" he teased.
She rolled her eyes. "How about we start with dinner, Hotshot. I'm off at seven."
"Like a date?"
"Like two people getting to know each other better," she said.
"Getting to know each other in the biblical sense?" He was still using a teasing tone, but he genuinely did want to know. He could be friends with Katniss, hell, he'd love to be friends with Katniss, she was funny and fun, witty and smart. But he'd also really like to get her into his bed, get his mouth on her, taste every inch of her flawless olive skin. And for the first time maybe ever, he wasn't sure which way she was leaning, or even which way he was hoping. Girls generally wanted one thing from him, and he didn't mind that. He knew he was attractive, and he worked hard to keep himself in shape. But she was different.
"You're incorrigible," Katniss said, but she was smiling.
Peeta pushed the plate closer to her. "Once you've had my hot buns, love, you'll be begging for more."
"How on earth do you ever score with lines like that?" Katniss laughed.
Peeta chuckled. She'd be surprised, he thought. But he liked that she was going to make him work for it. He enjoyed a challenge. And it would be that much sweeter when they finally played doctor in his bed.
o-o-o
He was waiting in the hospital parking lot when she finished her shift, clutching a bunch of wildflowers like a nervous schoolboy. It was crap, picking her up at work instead of from her house. But such was the life of people like them with strange hours and overtime and on-call shifts. You had to stand down on the formalities a bit. Her delighted smile when she saw the flowers—and saw him—cut through his nerves. But she looked tired. "Still up for a wild ride tonight?" Peeta said, his cocky tone covering real concern.
"Oversell much?" Katniss said mildly, but her face was buried in the sweet blooms, enjoying their heady scent. Peeta grinned.
"Love, I promise you I never oversell anything in the bedroom."
Katniss laughed, warm and amused. "How about you feed me first?"
Peeta laughed too, and helped her into his ute. But he noted that she didn't immediately shoot down the idea of ending up in his bed.
He headed out of town, along the backroads to a little place about 20 minutes away.
"It's like you don't want to be seen around town with me," she teased as they pulled into the parking lot. There was an element of truth to that, Peeta thought. Panem was a small town with a lot of gossips and he had already pegged the doc as private and reserved, maybe even a little shy.
"Not interested in sharing you with the rest of Panem," he drawled, but there was a deeper truth in that answer too.
He took her hand as they walked into the restaurant, and she let him, fingers entwining so naturally.
Peeta had given some thought to where their first date should be, choosing a casual place that specialised in local fare. He was pretty sure Katniss wasn't the linen tablecloth and champagne bucket sort. Her smile as she looked around at the rough hewn wood and exposed brick told him he'd done well. "Annie said you knew all of the best places," she said once they were seated, perusing the wine list.
He did know all of the best places, he'd grown up in Panem, but he knew that wasn't what Annie meant. Peeta had spent a few years, a few too many years, maybe, hitting up singles nights at the pubs and clubs around Panem and beyond. If there was a party, he knew about it. He hadn't been to singles night in months, but he wasn't sure that Annie and Finn had even noticed, wrapped up as they were in the excitement of the new baby.
And maybe Katniss would like some of those places, the music and dancing and fun. Maybe he'd show her around the scene at some point. But not for a first date. No, this first time, he wanted to show Katniss something different. A little bit of himself, maybe.
But to her he said, "I figured after twelve hours in A and E, you wouldn't want anything stuffy and pretentious."
Katniss smiled. "And those fussy places always have tiny portions too."
Peeta laughed. One thing he'd learned about Dr. Everdeen was that she liked to eat. He'd enjoyed watching her pack away a hamburger when they'd gone hiking, and she hadn't been demure about the meal at Finn's either. He liked that, liked the honesty of it. She didn't pretend to be someone she wasn't, didn't change so that other people would like her.
She ordered oysters to start and let him choose the wine. He couldn't resist teasing her about them being an aphrodisiac. "I promise you won't need those to get in the mood," he said when the waiter walked away. "I'll get you revved up, just you wait and see."
"Still with the overselling," she smirked, and Peeta couldn't help but chuckle. He liked their banter, liked that she didn't humour him or pretend to swoon. Liked that she pushed back.
He just liked her.
The waiter returned with wine, and Katniss seemed completely oblivious to the appreciative looks he shot her way, the extra attention he paid pouring her glass, the way he fawned.
"Is aggressive flirting an Australian pastime?" she deadpanned after the waiter left.
Peeta snorted. Not so oblivious after all. "Only when there's an absolutely stunning sheila around," he said, and Katniss cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.
"I can't believe you ever get dates," she said. But she was smiling.
A beautiful tray of oysters cradled in shaved ice was set on the table between them, and Peeta enjoyed the way Katniss's eyes lit up. She ignored the mignonette, he noticed, and ate them only with a bare squeeze of lemon. It was insanely erotic, the way her throat flexed as she swallowed, her soft moan of delight. He could do nothing but watch her eat and still be completely satisfied.
But that wouldn't be much of a date, would it?
"So why medicine," Peeta asked over his glass of crisp white. Small talk about work was always an easy way to ease into discovery. People loved to talk about their careers. "Family trade?"
Katniss froze. Something dark and pained flashed in her eyes, and she looked down at her glass, swirling the amber liquid almost compulsively. Demons, Peeta thought. Clearly she had them. That was unexpected.
Silence hung between them, heavy and pained. He couldn't leave her to suffer, his instinct to rescue her from the pain in her sterling eyes was too strong.
"Okay," he said, smiling easily. "Let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd fly halfway around the world to help out a friend... but I don't know what your favourite colour is?"
A small smile crept onto Katniss's lips. "Green. What's yours?" she asked, raising her eyes to his.
"Orange," he said.
"Orange?" She was incredulous. "Like a safety cone?"
Peeta laughed. "A bit more muted," he said. "More like... sunset."
"Sunset," she murmured, then closed her eyes as if envisioning it. "You have the soul of an artist."
"The brushes too," he said with a smirk, and Katniss's brows furrowed. But only for a moment.
"The landscapes in your bakery?" she trailed off.
"I painted them, yeah."
Her eyes widened. "Peeta," she breathed. "They're extraordinary." He knew it wasn't empty praise, he'd seen her examining his work both times she'd been at the bakery. "Why aren't you in a gallery?"
He was, actually, and more than one in fact. He had been a prolific painter in his youth, all through uni, well into his twenties, had sold quite a few pieces and knew some were still displayed. But life had gotten busy, and he'd stopped making time for it. The easel he'd set up in the sunroom when he'd first bought his house had rarely seen any use. It was pushed against the wall now, only coming out when one of the kids wanted to paint. "You want to pose for me?" Those silver eyes might be just the thing Peeta needed to push him out of his slump.
"If you say you'll paint me like a French girl," Katniss groaned and Peeta laughed. He hadn't meant nude, but loved that her mind went there. And now that he was thinking it… "One track mind," she sighed, shaking her head.
"Trust me, love," he said, still chuckling. "Once I get your clothes off, painting will be the very last thing on my mind."