Hey there. Sorry for the delay. I know I said I'd try and get two up last month, but stuff came up. Like life changing stuff. So writing kinda got curbed for a couple of weeks. But I'm back now, so hopefully we should stick to the "normal" schedule? Hopefully -_-

ANYWAYS! I promised angst. So here's angst. And it's long. Like the longest one I've written for these two. But it's got a happy ending. 99.9999999999999% of the time there will be a happy ending. Unless some dies. Maybe. I dunno. No song of inspiration, just this. This one was gonna end so many different ways, but it came out like this! Ta-da. The next one will be angsty too. At least I'm planning on it. We'll see what happens.

Setting is Post-Mockingjay, just for background's sake.

So per usual, read, review, and add to your Favorites/Alerts. You guys make my day when I see those notices in my inbox. :] Enjoy!

Jealousy

Pink or yellow?

I stare at the flowers in the vase in front of me. They seem harmless enough, but I know better. They could mean the death of me. Because she knows flowers a lot better than I do. Everything they mean and everything they don't.

I bite my lip, glancing back and forth between the roses. Why, why, why? can't they just come in one color? Everything would be so much simpler then. The woman behind the counter looks at me patiently, but the tapping of her finger against the glass tells me she wishes I would hurry.

But I can't hurry this. It has to be perfect. Because I messed up. Bad. Bad enough she making me sleep on the couch. And coming from her, that's almost the same as kicking me out all together.

Finally, I just get five of each, unable to decide. The woman smiles and wraps them up for me. Her smile reminds me of someone, but my memory is still fuzzy enough that I can't remember whom. I'm still in a haze as I leave the shop when I run into Haymitch. Literally.

He grunts as I collide into him, squinting at me. He's got a bottle in one hand, and a sack full of something in the other. His eyes are bleary and he's got bags under his eyes that rival his worse years. I think he doesn't even notice I'm there and I'm not particularly interested in him vomiting all over my shoes, so I move to step around him when he grabs my arm.

Haymitch stares up at me, and it occurs to me that he looks old. His face seems to have acquired more wrinkles and lines since I remember and his beard needs trimming. My chest tightens as my mind kicks into gear with something like a mix between a real memory of Haymitch and one of the shinier ones that the Capitol screwed with.

"Peeta."

His voice is like knives clicking together as his grasp on my arm tightens, helping me focus on what's real. I shake my head back and forth, trying to clear my mind and grip the roses tightly. Once Haymitch feels like I won't start raving like a lunatic he lets go, his eyes finally taking in the flowers in my hand.

"Big night?" He grunts, flashing me what I think is supposed to be a smile, but just comes across more like a sneer. I shake my head.

"An apology." I explain, scratching the back of my neck. Haymitch tips his chin in understanding.

"What'd you say?" He asks. He knows she'd never get upset over something I did. It has to be something I said. And it is.

"I called her a mutt."

Even though Katniss isn't around to hear, I feel like I'm in danger of upsetting her further by saying it again. The word sticks in my mouth, making me feel dirty.

"Flashback?" He grunts, his voice beginning to grate more. He's upset with me for saying that to her. He always liked her better. It's some messed up father-daughter relationship they established unknowingly during the Games. They care for each other, a lot. A lot more than either of them will ever admit to anyone. Even themselves. But I know better.

"No." I sigh, shaking my head slowly. "I was present."

Haymitch's look grows stormy and I'm suddenly worried for my own safety. It's a stupid thought though. He'd never purposely hurt me. Not while I'm sane. But I understand the look. I feel the same way with myself for even thinking the word. It's despicable.

We had been fighting. A news clip had come on over the television about the progress on the final Games – the ones sending the Capitol children to their deaths instead of those from the districts – and it had set her off. Her own flashbacks about Prim and the war. And how she still thought that it was the right thing to do in payment for those we'd lost.

That's when I had said it. Called her a Capitol Mutt for thinking that way. I knew as soon as I said it that it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn't take it back. The damage had been done. If I had physically slapped Katniss, I think it would have hurt her less. She didn't even look at me for the rest of the morning and spent the entire day in the woods, not coming home until late. Even then she wouldn't speak to me and just threw a pillow and blanket out into the hall for me before slamming the door to our room.

Haymitch's look seems to calm down after a moment and he takes a swig from the bottle. He goes back to squinting at me and simply shrugs his shoulders.

"Just don't piss her off any more than she is." He grunts before shuffling off through the snow. I sigh and nod, knowing full well to not do that already and set off for our own home.

I practice my speech in my head on the walk back, but whatever I come up with sounds wrong. She told me once that I have a way with words, but I don't. I just say what I feel at that moment. I never plan out my words, I just think about how I feel in the moment. If anything she's better at it than I am. Maybe not in her words but in the way she acts and looks. Her emotions show through so clearly that it'd be impossible not to connect when she's speaking to you. I think if I tried to tell her that, she'd disagree with me.

I finally reach the door to our house, a rough idea of what I want to say in my head, when the door opens. I look up, my mouth open and the roses halfway up before I register who it is.

Gale is standing on my doorstep, wearing a look like he just got caught doing something. My heart stops in my chest and my throat constricts so I have trouble breathing. His hair is longer than it used to be, drooping into his eyes, but he looks better than what little I can remember him in 13. Taller, broader, his shoulders and chest filling out his military coat. He jams his hands in his pockets and grunts a hello before walking past me.

Why is he here? He and Katniss haven't spoken in three years. At least that I've noticed. My brain scrambles to give a reason for his being in my house. Alone. With her. After the two of them being out of touch for a long while. Did she call him? Did he call her? How long was he here? My mind comes up with so many questions it almost drives me into a Flashback. I stand staring at his footprints on the front step until it begins to snow. The cold drives me inside, afraid to hear any of her answers.

I hear her in the kitchen as I take my wet things off. She's humming slightly and there's a clink of dishes in the sink. My heart sinks even lower. She's happy. Happier than when I left this morning to go to the bakery. Did he make her happy? I shake my head and press my palm against my temple, willing the thought to go away. Taking a deep breath, I clutch the roses tighter in my hand and walk to the kitchen.

"Katniss."

She turns around at my voice, her small smile on her face. But it falls as she looks at my face.

"Peeta, what's wrong?"

I don't answer her. Instead my eyes go to the floor, avoiding the worry in hers. She puts down the dish she was holding and steps towards me.

"If it's about yesterday, I'm not -" she breaks off with a sharp intake of breath. I look up to see her staring at the flowers in my hand with something that looks like a mix between fear and hate.

"What are those?" Katniss asks, her voice in a harsh whisper.

"An apology." I say, my own voice impassive. "Why was Gale here?"

Her grey eyes snap up to meet mine and I see my own shock and fear in them. Jealousy flares up inside me and I step forward to close the distance between us.

"Katniss, why was Gale here?"

Her eyes flit back and forth between me and the flowers still in my hand as if she's trying to decide which to address first. I make the decision for her.

"Katniss!"

"We were just talking!" She yells back at me. The usual fire is back in her face now, her anger at my unsaid accusation rolling off of her. My head pounds with Capitol memories and I fight to keep sane. But the image of Gale coming out of our home pushes me to the brink.

"Just talking?" I growl, grinding my teeth and trying to stay in control.

"Yes, Peeta." She spits back at me, her eyes blazing. The girl on fire is back, her spite and hatred fueling her venom. "He came over to apologize. For everything he's done. Unlike some people."

"Apologize?" The word catches me off guard. The memories flood into me and my vision becomes fragmented. I dig my palm into my temple, focusing on the pain.

"Yeah, apologize. As in, saying you're sorry for something? It's something people do. Although, I understand if the Capitol completely wrote that out of your system."

"Wrote it out of my system? Katniss, I couldn't control them brainwashing me any more than you could control being the Mockingjay!"

"Don't change the subject!" She snaps, her fists clenched tightly and pressing into the sides of her head, as if she can block me out.

"Fine." My breath is coming in sharp gasps and my hands are shaking. "Why was Gale here?"

Katniss lets out a noise that sounds like a mix between a sigh and a groan. She glares at me as if she can't believe we're arguing about this, but I need to know.

"Katniss. Answer the question."

She's quiet for a moment, staring out the window. Her nails dig into her arms and I can tell she's battling with herself inside.

"Katniss?" I call, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"He came to apologize." She repeats, still looking outside. "For his rash behavior when we where younger. For not running when I said we should've." My mind closes around her confession like a vise, but she continues.

"For not telling me how he felt earlier. For Prim." Her voice breaks on her sister's name and my anger subsides. She's biting her bottom lip and there are tears on the edges of her eyes, but she wipes those away quickly.

"He's getting married."

"Married?" I say, almost choking on the word. Katniss seems to deflate as she nods. I reach out and pull her into my arms, stroking her hair to soothe her.

We stand there for a while, listening to the sound of the snow hitting the windowpane. It's calm; all traces of our fight earlier have disappeared. My jealousy has completely vanished. Except that now Gale's beaten me to marrying the girl he loves. Just not in the way I ever expected. The thought makes me laugh.

"What?" Katniss asks, her voice a low hum.

"Just thinking." I answer vaguely with a chuckle.

"Thinking?"

I nod. "I always thought I'd hate him for getting married, cause I always thought it'd be to you."

Katniss gives a sigh and shakes her head slowly.

"Never be me." She murmurs into my shirt. "Too much fire. Although, Johanna isn't much better."

"Johanna? He's marrying Johanna?"

"I said the same thing." She says, laughing softly. "But it'll be ok, I think."

"Never thought Johanna the type to get married." I say. Katniss simply shrugs.

"They invited us to come." She says after a moment of silence.

"Do you want to?"

Another shrug.

"We don't have to, you know. We can just send a letter." I suggest, knowing she won't like that idea. And she doesn't.

"We should go." She decides, looking me in the eye. I nod in agreement and she gives me one of her rare smiles.

"Besides," she yawns, "Johanna would kill me if I didn't go. Literally."

I hum in amusement and hug Katniss closer to me. She's getting tired I can tell. She won't admit it, but fighting tires her out. Just like a small child, she needs to nap after screaming.

"Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"Why-Why did you get roses?"

I look at the floor, where the flowers now lay in a mangled pile. They looked sad and forgotten just lying there so I scoop them up and try to present them to Katniss.

"I hate roses."

She looks at the floor as she says it, avoiding my eyes again. I simply look at her face in confusion, watching as her cheeks become tinged with pink.

"Snow left them as calling cards for me." She explains softly. "He'd leave one in my room or on a desk or have someone give them to me. It's how he would give me warnings or tell me I failed. And in the sewers," her voices breaks off at the memory. Images of us running below the Capitol away from the lizard-mutts and Finnick being torn to pieces fill my mind as Katniss shudders for breath.

"In the sewers," she continues, her voice small, "the things that chased us – the mutts – they reeked of roses."

Her eyes are clamped shut, her hands pressed against her ears as if she could still hear the hissing. She only looked up when she heard the door close behind me.

"Okay." I say, holding her close. "No more roses. I'll get something else instead next time."

She laughs through the small amount of tears she's already shed and paws at her face, trying to clean herself up.

"Katniss." I call, grabbing her attention. Her eyes are red from crying and from fatigue. Her bottom lip is torn from her teeth biting it all day. Her face is flushed, her scars pucker a little in the cold, and her hair is a mess. I don't care.

"I love you." I say, pushing her hair away from her face. Her eyes meet mine as I take hold of her left hand and bring it to my lips. "Now and forever." I remind her as I run my thumb over the cold band than circles her finger promising her to me. She nods and her lips meet mine, telling me she feels the same.