Happy Valentines Day! Or Singles Awareness Day/Crazy Love Marketing Day/Chocolate and Flowers Day or whatever you want to call it. I'm updating on time this month! And I might actually get two chapters up by the end of the month! Huzzah!

No Song of Inspiration today. Instead it's kinda a gift to a friend of mine. I tend to do that a lot, so really, if you want me to write a one shot for you, tell me. Anyways, this chapter started off as a writing assignment/gift and just kinda evolved into a Katniss/Peeta fic. So ta-da! And it's fluffy again. The next one I PROMISE will be angsty. Promise-swear.

Quick notes about this one: 1) It's not really set in the Hunger Games universe. I mean all the characters are there, but they're at school. Not the games. And 2) Katniss's character didn't really stay the same. I'm not saying I changed her completely but she's not all "grrr". You guys let me know if it's too offensive, yeah? I don't feel that great about doing that but I didn't know how else to do it and make the story work.

Thanks for reading and don't forget to review/add to your favorites/alerts! Please enjoy!

Be My Valentine?

He's nervous; something that he's not used to feeling. He's always been a confident person. Since the day he asked the older boys to play ball he's always been sure of himself. He ran into the woods and back just because someone said he'd be too scared to. He made the record for number of bags of coal a boy could carry at the age of thirteen. He made the varsity wrestling team his freshman year. He asked the prettiest girl in District 12 to dance and she said yes.

But when Katniss Everdeen turned around in science class in September and asked him to stop kicking her chair, he lost it. He lost his confidence. Well not all of it. He can still run a mile in under six minutes and read books like Moby Dick and Atlas Shrugged and understand them. He can still bake better than his mom and write the best poetry in anyone in the class (although he won't tell his friends that).

But he can't talk to her. The girl with the pretty brown hair that sits right in front of him for three periods. He can't do it. Every time he tries, he gets tongue-tied. And he tries. He tries to ask for the assignment from History class in the lunch line, but ends up talking about the rain outside. He tries to say he likes the black leather boots she wears every day that remind him of a pair his father used to let him wear, but it comes out as a cough. He tries to answer her request to stop kicking her chair in science that he only does it so he can look at her stormy grey eyes and feel the shivers her look sends through his veins, but he simply gulps and nods.

Today, though, is going to be different. Today's the day of possibilities. Because when she turns around to ask him to not kick her chair today, he's hoping she won't reject the daisy asking to be his valentine when he holds it out to her. He knows it's corny but his brothers say it's a good idea. He figures it's worth a shot

He gets to class early, already anxious about what she'll say. His teacher looks up at him, surprised to see him so early. Normally he's at least five minutes late to class. Not this morning though. There's no room for error today. He sits at his desk, fidgeting his leg and staring at her empty seat. He wonders what her hair will look like today or what color shirt she'll be wearing. He likes that red flannel shirt she wears every now and then. It makes her look like a small cowgirl. He smiles at the thought but quickly stops as the girl sitting next to him shoots him a weird look.

Other kids slowly flow into the classroom, the girls showing each other the presents they've already gotten – flowers, chocolates, and other presents – and boys beaming with pride that they've made their girlfriend happy for the next week. He watches them with a quiet envy, before going to watch the clock.

His leg moves faster as the hand on the clock moves slowly around. His eyes jump back and forth between the door and his backpack. His hands are starting to sweat and he's frantically trying to wipe them off on his pants. He's getting looks from his friend on the other side of the room but he doesn't care. He's fighting with himself to throw the daisy away. Just wait, he tells himself. Five more minutes.

It's not until Madge walks in alone after the bell that he really starts to get nervous. They're always come to class together in the morning. She must be sick. Or maybe she transferred science classes. His eyes widen in fear. What if she got so sick of him kicking her chair everyday that she changed classes? He'd never forgive himself.

Breathe; in then out. He repeats this mantra over and over in his head. It helps his nerves but still his leg is going a mile a minute. She's probably just late, he reasons. Maybe she went on a early morning hunt. But what if she got hurt and was stuck? What if a wild dog attacked her? What if she's dead? Breathe!

The teacher moves to close the door to begin today's lesson. There's a strangled cry threatening to escape his throat as she grabs the handle, but she simply walks out the door and down the hall. He collapses, sprawled across his desk, his head in his hand. He can't take it. His heart is trying to escape his ribcage and his pulse is dancing in his throat. A groan reverberates against the plastic-wood of his desk, coming out louder than he meant and he gently hits his head against the desk.

"Peeta?"

And then she's there. Standing right in front of him, appearing out of nowhere. Confirming his theory that she's magic, just maybe not in the way he originally thought.

"Katniss," he says, his voice coming out in a surprised gasp. "Hey."

There's a funny kind of smile on her face. Like she knows something he doesn't and wants to tell him. Her cheeks are slightly tinged with pink and he feels his blood run to his own face.

There's a little voice in his head telling him to do it, do it now! He feels around under his chair for his bag, then the zipper. She's talking to him – actually talking to him - about why she was late and how the snow makes people act insane. His fingers latch around the zipper and pull hard, almost ripping open the bag.

"Hang on a sec," he excuses himself and dives under the desk. Why, why, why does he keep so many papers in his bag? He really should organize it better but that doesn't matter right now. Finally, he finds it and his fingers latch around it. It's the moment of truth now. He breathes in deeply, boosting his confidence, and slowly resurfaces from under the desk.

His eyes closed, he stretches out his hand, flower poised and note clearly visible.

And she starts laughing.

His eyes shoot open and up to her face, his ego taking a nosedive. She's laughing hard, tears forming and her mouth covering her hand. Slowly, she reaches into her own bag and draws something out and hold its out to him.

A daisy. With a note. Will you be my valentine?