Ϟ Now to weather specialist Claudius Templesmith with the weather. Thank you Caesar. There will be a heavy snow storm trailing from west to east with a predicted snow fall of over 20 centimeters by the morning. Please stay off the road as much as possible. Ϟ
"Fuck that's a lot of snow," Johanna states with awe as she idly wipes down the same glass mug.
"Well, welcome to back Canada, sweetheart. It missed you."
Johanna whips the dirty rag at her co-worker, Haymitch Abernathy. He dodges with ease, making her grumble as she has to grab the rag from theother side of the bar.
"In all honesty though, why do we have to have our first fucking snow fall in five years the week I don't have a man around the house to shovel it for me?" Johanna gripes, nearly smashing the glass when she puts it on the shelf.
"Where is he?" Haymitch asks nonchalantly, drying another glass.
"Lucky bastard is in Los Angeles."
"And the boy?"
"At the Mellarks' right now. I gotta pick him when I get home. I'm on babysitting duty this time too."
"I thought you liked your quasi nephew?"
"I do … it's just….he didn't even fucking ask if I wanted to do it. I wish the moron would be more considerate. I have a life too! I don't want to be his fucking place holder all the time," Johanna shouts as she throws the glass in her hand onto the ground in anger.
She immediately regrets it upon looking at the shattered pieces of the ground. Great. That'll be coming out of her paycheck.
Tossing the rag into the empty sink, she rushes back into the utility closet to grab a broom and a dust pan.
Just as she's about to sweep up her mess, Johanna feels his rough hand on hers along with a gentle tug on the broom. Looking up she sees Haymitch looking down at her with those calm, slate gray eyes of his. Instantly, she can feel her heart rate begin to slow.
"I'll sweep, you hold the dustpan," he offers, with a voice as steady and calming as his eyes. She cannot find it in herself to say no.
They work in silence until the bar is spotless. When all is done and Johanna has locked up, they wordlessly, they say goodnight (more like good morning) and walk their separate ways down the snow covered streets.
The blaring sounds of the miniature fog horn Johanna calls 'the telephone', disrupts her dreamless sleep. Rolling over to the other side of the bed, she silences the monstrosity before checking caller ID.
"It's … eight o'clock in the fucking morning, what do you want?"
"G-good morning to you too, Johanna," Peeta's voices comes through the receiver. Sitting up and running a hand through her short hair, Johanna sighs.
"Sorry. Morning, what's up?"
"Um… well… I was wondering about something, would you look out your front window?"
"I parked in the garage last night that's why my car isn't there," Johanna answers.
"I figured, but that's not what I'm talking about," she can hear the smile in Peeta's voice as he speaks. "There is a man I've never seen, in your drive way, shoveling your snow. I don't know if you hired someone or if he's friendly neighbour, I thought I'd talk to you first before I went to go say something to him."
Confused, Johanna throws back the covers and slips into a robe before making her way from her room to the front of the house. Peeking between the blinds of the living room window she sees him, with a hat covering his dark curls, gloves covering those calloused hands of his as he slowly but surely cleans her drive way.
"Hello, Johanna?" Peeta says, distantly through the receiver.
"Yeah, sorry. I'm here," Johanna doesn't realize she is smiling until then. "Don't worry about the guy, okay. He's a friend from work."
"A friend, huh. I wish my friends from work would come by and help me with difficult chores."
"Shut up, Peeta, it's nothing like that! Haymitch is my dad's friend, probably just doing him a favour." She protests, feeling her face grow warm. "He's in the process of getting over a divorce; he's not interested in me like that."
"Sure. Whatever you say," Peeta says with a shrug. "Let me know if he needs an extra hand. I was shoveling this morning, the snow's really dense."
"We'll be okay, but thank you," Johanna signs off and hangs up the phone. Placing it on the coffee table in the living room, she shuffles into the front hall and slips into a pair of Finnick's boots and steps outside.
The slam of the door catches his attention and turns that concentrated grimace into a small smile.
Words escape her as she looks past Haymitch to see that a majority of her thin strip of drive way has been cleared. She wants to laugh and cry, maybe even kiss him a little. Which one she wanted to do more than the other, she didn't know.
Surprising even herself, she runs down the front steps and launches herself into his open stance. Her arms wrap around his exposed neck and her warm cheek touches his cold, stubbly one.
"I know I should've asked, but I didn't really think you'd mind if I gave you a hand," Haymitch says softly into her ear as he drops the shovel onto the tarmac and wraps his arms around her waist.
"No, not at all," she squeezes him tighter, catching a whiff of the cologne she once told him she liked.
Maybe it is like that after all.