"Do you want me to spread some flour on the counter? Would that help?" Katniss asks but Peeta's already shaking his head. He gets quiet and intense when he's working, almost as if he doesn't have the mental space for conversation. He reaches up and uses a flour-dusted hand to swipe at the sweat dotting his forehead. It's hot in the kitchen.
"No. Can you check the oven?" He stretches a corner of the dough he's been working on, slapping it onto the counter when he's happy with what he sees. "What time is it anyway?"
"I uh…" she trails off, too busy getting blasted by the sheer heat coming off the open oven door. She hastily snatches two nearby dish towels so she can pull out the baking tray from within. Fresh, hot loaves of bread sit spread out at even intervals across her tray. "Don't know, Peeta."
"It's just that—"
"Hi, Mr. Peeta!" An unfamiliar voice interrupts him. Katniss turns to look and finds a boy of about eight sticking his head into the kitchen window. The boy smiles, flashing the gap where his front tooth should be. "Any bread?"
"Right on time," Peeta replies. "Good morning, Gilbert."
"Mornin' Mr. Peeta." the boy chirps happily. "Cinnamon rolls?"
"Sorry kid, no sugar." Peeta turns towards Katniss, motioning for her to pass him some of the fresh bread. "How's your Ma?"
"She says her back hurts. But it always does." The kid shrugs, nonplussed, making Katniss snort unintentionally. Her laughter catches his attention because he leans his little hands on the windowsill, furry eyebrows rising with interest. "Who's your friend?"
"Hm?" But Peeta's distracted, bent over, and digging for a clean dishcloth under the sink. "That's just Katniss, Gill."
"Katniss Everdeen?" The boy's face elongates in shock.
"That's me," Katniss confirms.
"The one and only," Peeta agrees, standing back up to walk towards her. He grabs a loaf with his naked palm, not bothering to protect himself from the steaming heat of it while Katniss watches on with a grimace.
"Here you go." Peeta says, wrapping the bread in the towel. "Let her know I hope she gets better soon," he adds honestly.
"Sure!" Gilbert snatches the bread greedily, his skinny shoulders hitching with the excitement of getting to eat it. He digs his hands around the pockets of his oversized coat, fetching a glass jar from its depths. It's filed to the brim with some form of preserves and adorned with a cheerful bit of old cloth at the lid. "Ma says this is for you and there's nothing you can do about it."
"Aw, come on!" Peeta groans, looking at the jar the boy pushes into his hands. He leans partway out the window, grumbling with well-meaning frustration, as he calls after the kid: "I told her to quit paying me!"
"Bye!" Gilbert giggles, already running away to sneak past the loose board in Peeta's back fence. Peeta straightens, studying the jar with the smallest of pouts. Katniss brow raises in amusement as she steps closer to him to have a look herself, the tray laying forgotten on a nearby counter.
"Someone resisting your acts of kindness?" she asks.
"Tooth and nail," he agrees, handing the jar over. "She sends something every week. Tastes good too."
"How terrible," Katniss jokes. She twists the jar open, bringing it close to her nose. Elderberry. "You should know better. I've told you about debt."
"How could I forget?" He leans back against the counter. "Tell me, how's our tally looking these days?"
"What tally?" She deflects. She hands the jar over and strides across the kitchen to get her game bag by the door. "Do you want some help with deliveries?"
Peeta looks distracted for a moment before he shakes his head. "No, no, it's fine. You've already helped me enough for one day."
She shrugs, "you'll just owe me." Peeta makes an annoyed face at that. "Come on. Put me to work." She insists.
"Fine," He leans forward for a moment before bouncing back on his heels, gathering some of the bread on the counter in one smooth move. "Bag?" he extends his hand expectantly. She tosses him what he needs.
"So… if I wanted a favour," he smirks her way, shoving bread into her bag as he speaks. "All I have to do is ask?"
"That's generally how favours work, yeah." She volleys back, taking secret pleasure when he flashes her another annoyed expression.
"I'm going to keep that in mind. For my private agenda." He extends his hand out, the strap of the bag balanced upon his fingers.
She steps towards him to take what's hers, albeit hesitantly. "You make that sound bad."
"I can't be trusted," he smiles back.
"Morning!" Katniss announces herself with a shout, stepping through an open gate somewhere down her street in the Village. A group of barefoot toddlers run past her, one or two speeding through the gap between her legs as they escape the garden.
A few steps ahead of her, Katniss finds a small group of women forming a loose circle on the grass. They're five or six years older that her at max. One of them goes to follow the children, mumbling expletives under her breath as she jogs to keep up.
"Morning Katniss, what brings you?" One of the women asks. She doesn't turn away from the task her friends are engaged in — folding the large white sheets they'd turned into banners last night. "Expecting Peeta right around now."
"I'm giving him a hand. A loaf each, right?" Katniss steps forward, rummaging in her bag as the woman nods her head.
"That's right." She pauses, watching Katniss with some interest. "You a baker now?"
"More of a delivery girl." Katniss hands the bread over. "What's the plan for that stuff?"
"Oh, you know." The woman shrugs. "Hang it around the place. They're gonna have to send someone sooner or later."
Katniss makes a face. She doubts it. "If you say so."
"Worse comes to worse we make a bit of noise." She winks up at her, accepting the bread Katniss hands over. "You mind closing that gate?"
"No problem." Katniss goes to leave, although another one of the women stops her in her tracks.
"Thank that man of yours, would you?" The stranger grins up at her with genuine gratitude. "I don't know where else we'd have gotten paint from."
"Uh… sure. Have a good day, now."
"You too!"
"Hey!" Katniss calls out, startling Haymitch from outside his parlour window. "Look alive."
"What the—" the older man sputters as she hits him square in the face with a well-aimed loaf of bread. She turns on her heel before he can say anything about it, jumping over his porch railing and gliding out of his front garden with satisfaction.
She's still riding that high as she makes her way down the street. She's finished her deliveries and nearing the house, the thought of seeing Peeta again putting a bounce in her step.
But she hears a sound, an unusual one. It's some sort of repeating thud, like the sound of a dull drum, or some other rhythmic pounding.
She follows the sound into the green field near Peeta's house, her brows raised in curiosity. It doesn't occur to her that it might be something dangerous until she's too close to change her mind. She merely steps out into the clearing, a hand shielding her eyes from the bright yellow sunlight.
What she finds surprises her. A small woman, dressed in dungarees, is digging a neat row of trenches. Her face is turned away from Katniss, so she doesn't immediately recognize her. But as Katniss steps closer, the woman leans up against her shovel to wipe a hand across her brow, pushing ajar the handkerchief tied around her chocolate hued curls.
"Winnow?" Katniss asks, coming closer still. "What are you doing?"
"Katniss!" Winnow's eyes widen with pleasant surprise. She glances down at her work before meeting Katniss's eyes again, smiling sheepishly as she does. "Oh, well what can I say? You can take the girl out of 11, but you can't take 11 out of the girl."
Katniss steps closer in surprise. "You're planting food? Here?"
"That's the plan." Winnow confirms, gripping the shovel with both hands. "Well, once I get the space mapped out, sure, it'll be a start. But we're still a ways off. I'll need to feed the soil and find something to plant. I figured, heck, why not mark off my spot? Nobody's using this plot anyways."
"I guess not," Katniss shrugs. "What kind of thing would you plant?"
"Who knows?" Winnow replies excitedly. "But wouldn't it be great? All the food we can grow."
"I'm not complaining." Katniss shrugs. "You want to do this on your own? Won't that be a lot of work?"
"I'm not turning down helpers. You offering?"
Katniss glances back towards the houses. "Eh, if I can find a shovel, why not?"
"So, there I was," Winnow pauses for effect. "Mind you I'm wearing something like 3 pounds of makeup and the pointiest shoes you've ever seen." She smiles at the memory while Katniss snorts along. "And he has the balls to say, 'Winnie, it ain't a good time.' Excuse me! I washed my hair for this!"
"Oh, I can't imagine. You were furious, right?"
"Furious! It's a good thing no one lit a match near me; I would have exploded!" Winnow leans back on her hands. "You know, it's a miracle I married him. The things that man put me through."
"Mm," Katniss smiles down at loose bit of soil she's been playing with. They'd stopped working a while ago, but the conversation was so good, too much fun to give up. "He must have been a great guy."
"The very best. And that's an impartial review." Winnow winks cheekily. She sighs then, tossing her head back to look at the clouds. "Ah! Damn, that was years ago. Time flies, huh?"
"Yeah," Katniss says, her nails digging up a pebble from between the grass. "The last few years have been…"
"Something else." Winnow finishes for her. "If it wasn't easy for me, I can't even begin to dream of what it was like for you."
Katniss nods along. She's not even sure it's something she can put into words.
"It's a good thing it's over." She finally says, yanking some blades of grass out of the ground so she can play with them.
"Definitely." Winnow agrees. "I'm glad we're here now."
They're quiet, watching the clouds glide by. Winnow has removed her handkerchief to shake out her curls, humming in pleasure as she massages her scalp. Katniss watches, her mind wandering back to the woods – there's a strawberry patch not too far from here. Maybe she could transplant some of those bushes for their garden?
"No!" A door slams to their left as a woman runs out of Peeta's house, screeching and laughing. Peeta himself is hot on her heels, grinning as he goes, a pail of water sloshing onto his white shirt as he throws the water after her.
"I got her! I got her!" She notices Thom then, running alongside them with his own bucket of water. Unlike Peeta, Thom doesn't miss, dousing the woman – Delly – completely.
"Asshole!" Delly gasps, but she's playing. She yanks the bucket still clutched between Peeta's hands and tosses what's left of the water on Thom. "You ruined my shoes!"
"They'll dry." Thom replies stupidly, grinning as he sweeps his soaking bangs out of his eyes.
"They're suede!" Delly insists. She goes to throw the pail at his head, but Thom ducks easily.
"What the hell are you wearing those for?" Thom raises his palms to protect his face, laughing some more when Delly shoves him for good measure. "Guess you're a fancy town lady."
"The fanciest. You wanna see?" Delly runs to the garden hose on the far side of the garden, yanking the coiled hose too quickly and tangling it in the process. "You might wanna run."
Thom and Peeta tuck tail and run in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Delly turns the water on, losing control of the hose and creating a small rainbow in the sky when the water shoots out, splitting the honeyed sunlight across the yard.
"Should I intervene with that?" Katniss glances at Winnow.
Winnow shakes her head, smiling. "No way. We've got to see how things play out. It's the responsible thing."
"You're absolutely right."
"Mr. Collins had a mole." Peeta says, pressing a digit against his chin. "Right here. Real or not real?"
They're sitting around the kitchen island trying to come up with more memories for their book. Peeta's sketched a few beautiful things – all of which he regards with intense personal critique, going so far as to claim they have no place in the 'final copy.' She doesn't stop him, despite wholeheartedly believing everything he draws is beautiful. He'll think what he wants to think.
Katniss furrows her brow, actively trying her best to recall the man he's talking about. "Real." Her fingers trace the mouth of her steaming mug. "Why are you thinking about him?"
Peeta looks away, seemingly organizing his thoughts. "You don't remember? We sat next to each other?"
"Oh yeah," And the memory comes to her. They were fourteen. Peeta had just had a growth spurt, and she remembers thinking he seemed awkward about his newfound height. His eyes used to leave a warm feeling on her cheekbone. It feels like a lifetime ago. "That's when you started wearing your hair too long."
Peeta blushes, "I was going through a phase." And his defence makes her laugh.
"You looked a little like a girl," she says with false concern, and he can't help but laugh with her.
"I did," he scratches at his cheek, his eyes lost in another memory. "Oh, I was terrible at math."
"I remember," she nods, and it feels so good to smile. "He called on you all the time. You never got the answers right."
"Ugh, I can't believe you remember that." He groans. "That's awful."
"You brought it up!" She laughs into her mug, taking a moment to sip her tea. "Is there something about math class you want to remember?"
Peeta's face scrunches up self-consciously as he looks down at the loose papers across the marble surface. When he looks over at her again, he is chewing on his bottom lip, and the action has absolutely no effect on her.
"Don't laugh." He warns. "But um… you."
"Me?" Katniss braces her foot on the seat of her chair to lean forward with interest. "What about me?"
Peeta's face is growing exponentially redder. "It was the first time I ever spoke to you. Outside of the bakery."
"Was it?" Katniss asks the inside of her mug. "Tell me about it, I don't remember."
"Yes, you do," he accuses.
"Nope." She says with a pop.
Peeta sighs, turning away. His fingers drum against the counter as the tips of his ears glow red. Finally, he laughs at himself, shaking his head while he says, "I bumped into you, and you dropped your pencil. I asked if you were alright."
"Did you?"
"Katniss," he groans. She decides to give him a break and smile. She remembers. "You just stared at me."
"I was confused about the girl with the scratchy voice that ran me over."
His mouth hangs open in shock as he laughs again. "It wasn't that bad!"
"I figured you had a sore throat, but how unfortunate were those massive shoulders."
"Katniss!" He laughs harder. "So, you think I have good shoulders?"
"I never said that." She denies.
"It's okay, you're only human." He gathers the papers with a cheeky grin, tapping the stack against the counter to keep it straight.
"You're feeling full of yourself today." She remarks.
"I know what I look like," he winks. He pushes back from the island, stepping towards the back door swiftly. "I'm gonna get Haymitch. Squirrel today?"
She wags her eyebrows, "in breadcrumbs." Peeta's eyes widen with interest as he steps out the door.
"I'll help when I get back!" he shouts over his shoulder and Katniss watches as the door slaps shut behind him.
She's staring off into space, assembling a mental list of everything she needs to make her mothers fried squirrel recipe before she inevitably gets frustrated while trying to find things in Peeta's kitchen, when Buttercups tail makes a swipe across her nose.
"Get off!" She hurriedly yanks Peeta's drawings out from under the cat. "Shoo!"
The phone suddenly begins to ring, and Katniss is torn between answering it and salvaging Peeta's things. She shoves Buttercups rump once more, dropping the cat to the floor, before she leaps across the kitchen for the phone. "Yeah?"
"Hmm," Someone hums on the other end.
"Hello? Who's this?" She asks distractedly, pushing Buttercup further away with her toes as he braids himself between her ankles.
"You're Katniss Everdeen," an airy voice responds as if in a dream.
"What?" She frowns.
"Not Peeta. No, no."
"Who the hell is this?" Katniss straightens up with suspicion.
"Annie," the other person responds matter-of-factly. "And you're not Peeta."
"Annie," she doesn't quite gasp—more like stops breathing—accidentally dropping Peeta's sketches to the floor. "No, I'm not. I'm so sorry, Peeta just went out—I—I can take a message?"
"Okay!" Annie replies in a sudden burst of bubbliness. "Just let him know we can celebrate Finnick on the first week of June. That was his birthday, you know?"
"Oh!" Katniss rushes back to the island, fumbling with Peeta's coloured pencils and scattering them across the surface before giving up on writing anything down. "Um, what-what day?"
"The whole first week!" Annie replies happily. "You'll be there too, yes?"
"Y-yes, of course. I'd love to." She answers honestly. "Annie, I don't think I ever said it, I'm so sorry."
"That's okay." Annie's tone changes, fading again, the way she used to in District Thirteen. "You don't have to be sorry. Finnick isn't." Further away, a crying child distracts her. "Oh! That's the baby. I'll see you later."
"Uh bye," Katniss tries to say, but Annie's already hung up.
She sighs heavily. On the floor, Buttercup paws insistently at Peeta's fallen pencils. Katniss watches, trying not to make things worse for her racing heart.
She's still sitting at the island when Peeta gets back.
"Fuck off!" Haymitch is shouting from outside the back door while Peeta runs back inside, looking pale as a ghost. He strides towards her, crushing her in an iron-like hug while he buries his nose in her hair.
"What's happening?" Katniss asks, shaken by Peeta's distressed appearance. In response, Peeta holds her tighter.
"Haymitch!" she calls out, watching the backdoor where she can just make out Haymitch blocking someone from entering the house.
"The fuck is wrong with you?! Get out!" Whoever it is, Haymitch shoves them away. He climbs the steps and slams the door shut behind him.
"Haymitch?" Katniss asks, her voice muffled by Peeta's shoulder. "What happened?"
Haymith's eyes soften at the sight of them. He sighs, his shoulders dropping as if in defeat. "Pure bullshit. The media found out about the strike. We've got all kinds of bloodsuckers camped outside the house."
"Huh?"
"Cameras, Katniss." Peeta clarifies, his lips rubbing against her hair. "A whole team of them. Cameras and bright lights."
