Prompt: Everlark…roleswap (you can pick and choose) OR Everlark sneaking around (and failing)
I hope it tickles something in your brain. Love your work <3
Thank you for the ask @atelierlili!!! This isn’t exactly what you asked for, but it was the thing that made the pieces fall together for this one-shot
Katniss opens her eyes to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. She quickly scans the room for signs of another inhabitant. Finding none, she still throws the sheet over her head for good measure.
The events of the prior night come flooding back to her. She had had a one night stand; and not just with anyone, but with Peeta Mellark. She had such a crush on him back in high school, though she doubts he even noticed her then. He had been busy with sports teams, clubs, and friends, while she was just trying to make it through.
But then last night she’d spied him across the bar and, encouraged by her roommate and a shot of tequila, she’d held his stare and smiled. He could have ignored her; the Hob was crowded with the Saturday rush, and as usual he was surrounded by a group of people, but he had made a point to seek her out. The alcohol may have helped in the beginning, but after two hours of steadily increasing flirtation, she was stone sober when she’d suggested they get-outta-here. Her body hums remembering the rest of the night. Regardless, now the thought of an awkward morning exchange is enough to have her almost regretting the whole thing… She sighs, tossing the sheets off her face. It isn’t going to get any easier the longer she waits, so she might as well get on with it.
But first she’ll need clothes.
She peers around the room but her shorts and tanktop are nowhere to be found. Cringing, she remembers how she’d pounced as soon as the door to his apartment had closed. Their clothes had been shed before they’d left the living room. She spots her bra and underwear at the end of the bed, but greeting Peeta like that feels obscene and draping herself in his bedsheets feels a bit dramatic, so she opts for a comfortable orange shirt she finds tossed over a chair.
She’ll just dash out and grab her clothes. Depending on where he is, he might not even realize she’s left the room before she’s safely back inside with yesterday’s outfit.
But all her plans fall to the wayside when she opens the door to the smell of coffee, warm cinnamon, and bacon. She moves towards the source like a cartoon mouse led by their nose at the scent of cheese. She'd be embarrassed if she weren’t so hungry.
“Hey,” Peeta smiles, turning from the counter to greet her then back to his bowl, but not before she catches his gaze lingering on her exposed legs below the hem of his shirt. She’s never thought herself particularly pretty, but Peeta’s hungry glance has her wondering if he sees something she doesn’t. She’d felt powerless to her crush back in the day; the feeling of longing that would creep up on her when she’d steal glances at him from across the lunch room, but maybe now the desire wasn’t so one sided.
Emboldened by the idea, she hops onto the counter next to him, “I wasn’t sure if you were a coffee person but I made enough for both of us. Or I can put on water for tea? Then there’s bacon and I have eggs - I can make them anyway you like, or I could do pancakes if you’d prefer that. And if none of that suits there are cinnamon rolls that will be ready any minute.”
“That’s not breakfast, that’s a buffet,” she says, selecting a strip of bacon from the plate and taking a bite. She watches him relax a degree as if he’d expected her to vanish if he hadn’t offered the right inducement. She supposes it’s not an unfair assumption, it was, after all, what she had planned to do not two minutes ago.
“I wanted to make you breakfast, but I realize I don’t know what you like. I might have gone overboard. I’ve never done this before.”
“What? Made a reasonable amount of breakfast?”
He laughs, “I meant slept with someone on a first date.” She looks away to hide her blush. “I think I could have gleaned enough information by our third or so date to have an idea of your breakfast preferences.”
“Date? Is that what we’re calling last night?”
“I’d prefer that to one night stand. First date makes it sound like the beginning. One night stand - like the end. I had a great time last night.” She rolls her eyes and he smirks as he continues, “that was great too, but I meant even before we left the bar… I like you Katniss. I always have, and I really don’t want this to be over.”
Always? Maybe she hadn’t been the only one carrying a torch all these years. He’s standing close enough for her to smell his body wash, something enticing but familiar, but they’re not touching and her skin is buzzing with the urge to connect them even in the most innocent way. Does she really want this to be over? “Okay,” she says after a beat.
“Okay?”
“First date it is”
He beams at her, sending warmth from her chest out to her limbs and she can’t contain her smile in return. A timer buzzes before she can consider leaning in to close the distance between them. Suddenly conscious of her morning breath, she hops off the counter excusing herself to the restroom.
She brushes her teeth with her finger and the paste on the counter before quickly rebraiding her hair and washing her face. She belatedly realizes she’s forgotten her clothes, but when she opens the door there are two sets of voices on the other side. She panics, freezing with the door ajar just a crack.
“I told you I wasn’t coming,” she hears Peeta say.
“And I told you that was unacceptable.” She’s never spoken to the woman, but she recognizes the voice right away: Peeta’s mother. The baker's wife has always been a notorious bitch, children still refer to her as ‘the Witch’ as they did when she was a kid.
She tries not to eavesdrop, she really does, but Mrs. Mellark’s voice carries, high and shrill. She doesn’t hear it all, but words like stupid, selfish, and inconsiderate can’t be ignored and enrage her. Who would think any such things of Peeta Mellark, let alone his own mother?
She watches his posture turn rigid as the woman berates him: You’d think he was missing his own father’s funeral rather than some weekly family engagement. His eyes flit towards the bathroom and catch her stare. She watches him sigh, deflating as if making a decision, “fine Mother. Just go to the car and give me a minute to get ready.”
It dawns on her what he’s doing; sacrificing himself so that she can sneak off and if his defeated appearance is any Indication, he doesn’t expect to see her ever again after this mortifying scene.
This will not do.
Katniss straightens her spine and flings the door open. With a confidence borne of righteous indignation, she marches over to Peeta, wraps her arms around his waist, and pops up to her toes to kiss him on the cheek, “I didn’t realize we were expecting guests. Did I hear something about brunch? I’m starving.”
“This is why you canceled?” Mrs. Mellark's contempt is obvious as she takes in her appearance.
“This is Katniss and no: I canceled because I don’t want to go, but if you do…” he turns towards her with a smirk.
Katniss muses that the olive toned legs beneath her son’s shirt is all the information Mrs. Mellark needs to make her judgment. “You cannot bring her. Not unless you want your grandmother to have a heart attack.”
“Good thing Katniss is a nurse.”
She hums, “though I did take an oath to do no harm. Seems a little reckless to attend with your grandmother in such a fragile state.”
Peeta shrugs, “fair point. Guess that settles it.”
“Maybe another day,” Katniss adds.
Mrs. Mellark looks between the pair before huffing and turning on her heels. The door slams and Katniss's feeling of satisfaction falters as she belatedly wonders if maybe Peeta might begrudge her the Ming vase his grandmother will certainly bequeath to his brother now. Suddenly ashamed at her performance, she can’t meet his eye as she asks, “is there anything I have to apologize for?”
She looks up at the sound of Peeta’s laughter. “Not a thing” he says before scooping her into an embrace. And as her lips seek his she’s glad she decided to brush her teeth
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Last piece of the year! I've been working on this one all month and I'm finally at a point where I'm comfortable with sharing it.
Sansa has always been one of my favourite characters in the series. She's a disney princess in a nightmare. I love how GRRM writes her chapters, which is filled with poetry and symbolism. And her relationship with her father (and Lady!) just itches something in the back of my head like crazy. We may never get Winds, but something in my heart tells me she's going north, following Ned's footsteps.
