"From the angsty-ish prompt you just shared: Everlark "It's all YOUR fault!" "Don't fucking touch me." Can't wait to read your little brain concoction, I just know it's gonna be amazing! :D xx"
Prompt from tumblr:
I hopped on Tumblr a few days ago and noticed this lil prompt chilling in my inbox and I'm in retail now so I thought I'd put the two together. Please ignore the misspelling of the F word, I don't swear so I just prefer to write it this way. Hopefully, anyone who sees this enjoys it, and again, I'm always open to new prompts. I'll mark this as complete but I'm open to continuing it.
Katniss pov
"Don't fcking touch me" I growl, as his body looms over me, his arm nearly whacking me in the face.
"Well maybe if you'd finished the returns yesterday we wouldn't be in this mess". With a click, he hangs an orange dress on the rail in front of me.
I squat down and begin rifling through baskets for any more tops.
The plastic boxes scrape as he drags them across the floor behind me.
"Quit making so much noise!".
"It's all your fault!".
"What did I do?.
"Look at this mess Katniss", he snaps. I glance over my shoulder to see him tossing cotton pads and shoes out of one of the boxes. Hats and baby socks go flying, and stained pajama trousers litter the floor.
"As if that helped" I reply snarkily.
"How complicated is it," he says, scrubbing his hands through his blonde waves. He turns around to look at me. "This was all organized when I left. There are tags on all of this junk, how hard is it to put it in the right box".
"That doesn't matter".
"To you! I'm the on putting up with Effie when she's telling me off cause she keeps finding swimsuits in the winter department".
"Oh please", I roll my eyes and get back to digging. "Effie loves you".
"Take some responsibility Katniss, I can't bail you out all the time".
I drag three t-shirts from beneath some damaged makeup and I attempt to brush the brown stains off of them. Do people really think we can't tell that they've bought something and worn it for weeks before returning it. You'd think if they'd try to scam the system they'd at least chuck the clothes in a bucket of water. I lift the shirts to my nose and gag. They reek of sweat. I toss them over the railing, into a box at the back of the fitting room. I'll get Gale to reduce them later, surely some fool will buy them.
Peeta starts humming behind me and I'm bumped forwards as he squeezes past me.
I jump to my feet. This space is too confined for two people let alone the six rails of returns, dozens of boxes, and four or so baskets that have been haphazardly left spilling onto the shop floor.
I throw my arm out to stop him as he tries to go past me.
"That's meant to be folded" I say nodding towards the dad jeans in his hands.
"No", he reaches into a bin of hangers and retrieves one. "Jeans are supposed to be hung".
"Give it to me".
"No".
I reach for the denim as he lifts his arm up, his green employee shirt stretching thin to accommodate for the movement. He's not that much taller than me and I could easily grab the leg of the trousers but I know he enjoys these childish stunts.
"See you're the one wasting time now".
"A please wouldn't hurt" he grumbles.
I go to grab the jeans and he leans backward, holding them out of reach, causing me to retreat. No way do I want to be near him. I glance at my watch. 11 am. Has it only been an hour? I have three more till my first break. This is why I don't do double shifts, I somehow always managed to get lumbered with the goody-two-shoes who seems to take up all the space with his muscular build alone. Why couldn't they have put me with Rue. The petite little thing who always did what was asked and scuttered around like a mouse, so she was never in your way.
"Look at the sticker," I say gesturing to the one stuck on the right leg of the jeans.
"It'll crease" he pouts. I hide my half-smile at proving him wrong. He's never liked not getting his way. It's just a shame I've always enjoyed it.
"Fold it".
He drops his arm and begins doing as I ask. "I have a name y'know".
"Not like that" I interrupt, trying to grab it, "No, you're doing it wrong! Fold it in half".
"I'll fold you in half", he grumbles shoving past me. Clearly, he's still upset that I avoid using his name as much as I can but what does he expect. I'm not here to make friends, and the less I have to talk to a six-month retail newbie the better.
I squeeze into a small room adjacent to the fitting room and begin stacking some of the boxes so that they're ready for being dragged back to the correct department. After a few minutes, a voice calls from the shop floor. I peak outside my room and see his head pop up from behind one of the rails.
"Do you wanna help me put some of this back?" he says quietly, gesturing to the rail that loaded with returned bras and teddies. Of course, he wants help with the women's lingerie. Twenty-six departments and that's the one he chooses. I ignore the warmth in my cheeks and struggle to get over to him.
"Only so I don't have to stay late with you again". I grab a handful of the underwear.
"Aww but we had so much fun last time" he teases sarcastically, bumping into me again. I almost snap at him to quit touching me but I know that's what he wants. He just enjoys getting a rise out of me, since I'd been the one to start this nonsense his first week here.
"I'll start with the...", he starts looking through the hanged lingerie and then he glances at the one's in my hands, "non-wired bra's, Katniss you can start with the push-up bra's. I'm sure we'd both appreciate that" he teases, with a wink. I avoid his gaze and bite my tongue as he swipes two items from my hands, a bunch from the rail, and sets off.
The nerve of some people.
The nerve of him.
Stupid Mellark.
As the hour goes by we trek back and forth, sorting the underwear by size and colors, everyday use and special occasions. Each time he passes me he tells a few lines from a story, something that happened to him years ago. At first, I found it annoying, not only that he talked but that he'd tease you with a few lines and then leave only to do it time and time again but as the minutes passed I began to look forward to the words that'd spill from his mouth. Sure, he could just shout it. The store isn't that busy since its a Monday morning; the children are at school, and the men are sleeping after working most of the night, and he's only a few rails over most of the time but I let him play his game and tell myself that it's only so I can hear the end of the story.
By the time half twelve has rolled around, he's finished his anecdote, and we're on the last few items for this department. My cheeks hurt from hiding my smile and I eagerly wait for the fool to start a new story. I'm sure he's got a ton up his sleeve and he's just waiting for the right time to voice them. I glance around at the silence, confused as to why he's stopped speaking.
"Well say something" I implore, searching for any hint of his head. I return to the fitting room and peak behind each of the rails before returning to the shop floor. Where did he go? There's no mess of the floor indicating that he's found another task to do and I would've seen him if he'd returned for more clothes. I stalk around, confused. Having someone leave isn't that uncommon, considering we're constantly understaffed but having been around Peeta for so long I've grown accustomed to his heavier footsteps.
I startle as a hand lands heavily on my shoulder. I whip around, flinching as my braid smacks me in the face. "Where'd you go?" I ask breathlessly. How did he sneak up on me? I need to pay more attention.
"I found a bag behind some of the nightwear. It looked like someone forgot their shopping and it had some er, adult toys from one of the other stores. I figured I'd deal with it so you didn't have to".
"You're not supposed to be in nightwear", I scowl, "You're supposed to be with me". It's only after I've said it that I realize how that sounds. I'd meant that since we're both on returns we should be sticking together but I know that I've just given him another thing to make fun of me for.
I ignore the odd warm feeling that settles in my stomach when he grins at me. "Aww you scared of losing me Katniss?".
I stay silent, embarrassed at my poor choice of wording. I've never been good at saying what I think.
"It's okay", he says gently as he steps back. I almost sigh in relief, grateful that I don't have him so close to me. Not that I didn't enjoy it. It's just, distracting.
"I'm not going anywhere".
I evade his eyes and nod in silence. What a fool I must look like.
A voice breaks out over the intercom and I recognize it as Haymitch, one of the more lackadaisical security guards. "Staff announcement", he grumbles "Peeta to childrenswear, ya got some clothes to fold". With a crackle, it switches off and I hear Peeta chuckle. He stretches and I avoid looking at how the material clings to him.
"Good timing hey, you get your quiet at last" he teases, as he heads towards the stairs. "Give me a call if you need anything alright Katniss", he pauses and it's only then that I realize he's waiting for my response. I nod and murmur a "yeah" but he's so far away I know he doesn't hear me.
He stalls for a moment longer and gives me another smile before turning the corner and ascending the stairs to the second floor.
I stand still, the smile no longer on my face as I realize I got what I'd asked for. Now I've got a pile of work and the next six hours - including my break - likely on my own. No stories, no-one interfering with my space.
Just what I'd wanted, and yet, for some strange reason I just... I miss him. And I hate being so alone.