#everlark drabble

[honey-kyun]

A NEW START: An Everlark Toasting Speech by: Honey_Kyun

“I have to warn you, this is extremely romantic,” he tries to smile in his signature charming grin, but he ends up pressing his tongue to his teeth to try and stop the tears forming in his eyes, “So you have to promise that you’ll cry.”

I have always intended to make this little idea part of a larger fic, but committing to details around an Everlark toasting is very daunting to me so it would probably sit in a doc forever otherwise.

But I wanted to post something for @everlarkweek so please enjoy a completely devoid of context bit of Peeta's very romantic plan for their toasting bread...

(drabble under the cut)

Peeta comes around to sit by me holding a tray with the bread, wrapped neatly in a cloth, and a small jar with a green line painted around the glass. 

“Okay so I have to warn you, this is extremely romantic,” he tries to smile in his signature charming grin, but he ends up pressing his tongue to his teeth to try and stop the tears forming in his eyes, “So you have to promise that you’ll cry.”

“Not a chance,” I retort, my own voice also thick with tears. 

He hands me the jar. “This is a starter. It’s an essential component of sourdough bread. And it’s alive.”

I turn the jar and the thick, bubbly whitish liquid bends slowly, “Alive?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow.

“Natural yeast. I made it with grapes and flour and water. And starter makes really good sourdough bread, but it takes a lot of work. Because you have to feed it regularly, or it will die. But if you’re good about it, you can keep it alive forever. My dad had one he claimed was 200 years old.”

He smiles at a rare happy childhood memory and I wonder if he wishes his father was here. When he pictured this moment as a lovesick teen, did he picture his family present? 

“So this starter,” he says taking the jar back from me, “is just for you. For this moment. To make our toasting bread,” He’s looking at me so reverently, “I made it after— after I knew you loved me. Because I always knew we’d get here.” 

“Oh, Peeta,” I reach out for his cheek, I need to pull him in for a kiss but he catches my hand and laces his fingers through mine.

“Hold on let me finish my stupid speech.” 

"Nothing you say is stupid," I tell him, pulling our joined hands into my lap.

“To feed it you have to use some, or in this case, pour some of it out, and add in more flour and water. And then do it again in a few days. So I got into this little habit,” he looks down shyly, “When I’d pour out the discard I would think about something I wanted to get rid of. Like, if I’d been short with you, or kept an important thought inside instead of saying it. And when I added more flour I thought about how I could love you better that week. Because what we have is the most important thing to me, I have to keep it alive.” 

Tears are running rivers down my cheeks now. I take the bread off the tray. The second most important bread he’s ever given me.  

[shewakessupwiththesun]

For prompts, (any ship), one of them being really sick and like throwing up and stuff and the other taking care of them? I'm such a sucker for that trope (both the one character feeling absolutely shit and the caretaking side)

Or alternatively , angsttttt of "that's not you" because of whatever mental health problem you please (that sounds wrong so I'd just like to clarify I mean that obviously not everyone in the ships has depression but there could be other things they struggle with, you know?)

It's the return of British!lark

Peeta and Katniss are best friends with a lot of unsaid feelings

I know you probably wanted something a bit angstier than this, but I'm sorry I'm just not in that kind of mood, anon!

I groan, lying on the sofa with an untouched cup of tea that, for once, tastes entirely too sweet. Is it just me or is the pounding in my head getting worse? I switch off the tv. The mumblings of Saturday Morning kitchen proving too aggressive for my headache.

I stare into space, regretting all my choices that led me to this place this morning when my phone buzzes with a text from my best friend. 

Peeta: How do you feel this morning?

Katniss: Like death. 

Peeta: Good job I’m outside with a bottle of Lucozade then 😎

Peeta: Let me in

Katniss: key in plant pot 

Katniss: can’t move 😭

I hear a burst of laughter outside, then the soft turn of the lock as Peeta lets himself in. 

“For you, madame,” he bows, handing me the bottle. 

I grab it from him and take a gulp. The orange bubbles instantly starting to revitalise me. 

“I also have a sausage roll, got it fresh off the tray from dad”

Peeta’s dad does make the best sausage rolls, but the thought of food right now makes my stomach churn. “Later,” I say. 

Peeta pops the sausage roll on the coffee table within arms reach of me. “Any of the others in?” He asks, glancing round for my house mates.

“All still in bed, none of them were up at 6am vomiting,” I lament.

“Oh Katniss,” he teases, settling himself in at the end of the sofa he pulls my feet into his lap and begins rubbing gently, “this is why we don’t join Uncle Haymitch for a drink when we run into him at the pub.”

I grunt in response, taking another sip of Lucozade. 

We sit in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, Peeta continues to rub my feet and I continue to sip my drink. Suddenly, Peeta’s soothing movement stops and he looks at me. “Hey, Katniss?”

“Hm?”

“How much do you remember about last night?”

Fragments of drinks, and loud conversations flash through my mind, but nothing really sticks out. “Not much,” I say, “why?”

“No reason.” Peeta doesn’t meet my gaze now, but goes back to rubbing my feet. 

“Oh god,” I groan loudly.

Peeta’s eyes snap to meet mine, “yeah, I didn’t kn-“

“Peeta,” I begin slowly. He looks at me, blue eyes soft and waiting. “Was I sick in the Wetherspoons toilet?”

He draws back, then smirks at me, “you should wear that with a badge of honour,” he wags his finger at me.

“That’s so embarrassing,” I mutter. 

“It’s fine, we’ve all been there,” he reassures me. “Do you really remember nothing else?”

I shake my head. “Why, what did I do?”

Peeta sighs and leans back into the sofa, “nothing, Katniss.”

[cow-in-the-sunset]

“Love doesn’t end in a wedding, Peeta,” she had told him one evening, “It ends in a funeral.”

A simple sentence. Straight to the point. In the same way her voice hadn’t trembled or paused, his hands didn’t shake or hesitate when he touched her cheek. Both her words and his affection were things decided long ago.

“If my death is as inevitable as my love then let me choose how to risk it.”

[afriendstolovers]

Happy Sunday! Here's a tiny Everlark drabble I originally wrote for Marecal and posted on my old, deleted Tumblr. I did some editing and, well, wanted to share it now. Enjoy! :)

•••

She wakes up enveloped in a familiar pair of strong arms, the morning glow still distant as far as the open window lets her see the deep purple sky peppered with clouds. If she is to guess, the smallest pointer of the clock on the bedside table is probably set somewhere between four and five, which would be just about time for her to get out of bed and into the woods, but not today.

Ready to fall back into sleep, she turns to press her face into the curve of her husband’s neck only to find his blinking eyes looking down at her, a lazy smile shaping his lips. She’s not really surprised given that he’s also an early riser, but the way he’s not moving to start his routine makes her hopeful that they have similar plans.

“Can we spend the day here?,” she whispers against his skin, not wanting to disturb the quiet.

“We can,” he sighs, hugging her waist, voice deep and soothing. “Today’s Sunday.”

She hums happily, already surrendering to her heavy eyelids and ditching her pillow for his chest. “Good to know.”

[liberalk1tsch]

Drabble of Katniss being the one to hit the force field in the quarter quell, and Peeta’s subsequent reaction?

i just found this buried in my inbox and absolutely loved the idea, so here's a somewhat belated pov switch for ya🤭

also a not-so-friendly reminder that everlark dk about finnick's trafficking yet and still think he's just a manwhore💔 myshaylaaa

as usual: no beta reader, so if you see an error of some sort, no you don't

Katniss turns to look over her shoulder at me. “Maybe we’ll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something.”

But the other side never comes. 

Because when she swings back her arm to cut through the vines in front of her, metal meets metal and for a split second, I swear I see blue ripple through the trees—the real sky. But it’s accompanied by a sharp zapping sound, and something vaults Katniss backwards into my chest, sending us both tumbling to the ground as my prosthesis slips out from under me.

For a moment, I’m relieved. I’ve landed at an odd angle and I know my knee will be sore for however long the rest of our hike lasts, but at least I’ve cushioned her fall some. 

At least I thought I did.

“Katniss?” As I rush to check if she’s all right, I see her eyes are closed, her body completely motionless. I’ve only seen her this lifeless one other time—when I awoke in the cave to find a needle sticking out of my thigh and her unconscious on the floor with her face in a puddle of ruby red blood.

Only this time, she doesn’t look hurt. I didn’t see her hit her head either.

My trembling fingers find the side of her neck, praying it’s like last time, that when I touch her skin, her pulse will be fluttering underneath my fingers, however weak.

“No.” The word slips out of my mouth before I can even think it.

No, no, no. 

This can’t be happening. This isn’t the plan.

“Katniss, wake up. You have to wake up. You can’t die on me.”

Silence.

“Katniss, please. You’re the one who’s supposed to live.” My voice breaks. “Wake up!”

I’m so absorbed in my own panic, I don’t even notice Finnick propping Mags up against a nearby tree before he’s shouldering me out of the way with an urgent “Move!” before bringing his lips to Katniss’.

He’s become one of them then. One of the reasons they try to retrieve the tributes’ bodies before anyone can get to them. And I was too stupid to notice it before choosing him as an ally.

Well, alliance be damned—I’d rather die myself than let him disgrace the body of the girl I love.

Blinding rage fills my veins, and I’m lifting my machete to bring it down on his too-perfect neck when a weak, weathered hand grasps my wrist lightly. 

Strength-wise, Mags is no match for me. But she’s not stupid, and her interference is enough to make me pause long enough to see Katniss’ chest rise and fall before Finnick lifts himself back up and interlocks his hands on her sternum, just over her motionless heart, and starts pushing down rhythmically.

Mags says something to me, and while I can’t quite understand her garbled speech, I manage to catch one word: help.

My machete lands on the jungle floor with a muffled thump.

Of course.

I’ve never seen it before. It’s simply not done in 12. Too many people starve to death before they can get help, and Asterid Everdeen is the only person I know of who knows how to do it. By the time their hearts give out, it’s too late.

But in District 4, where they have enough to eat and drowning is a far bigger threat than starvation, of course they’ll have use for resuscitation. Of course it’d be common knowledge.

I see Finnick’s actions anew now. He wasn’t kissing her—his fingers were pinching her nose shut as he breathed life into her lungs. He’s not feeling her up—he’s pumping her heart because it can’t do it itself. 

He’s saving her. In a way that I never would’ve thought of. In a way that I can’t.

Guilt washes over me for immediately thinking the worst of the man in front of me, even as I can’t help the suspicion it peaks in the back of my mind; why is he so dedicated to keeping Katniss alive? Is it some sort of deal Haymitch made with him beforehand? Why wouldn’t my mentor have said anything, at least to me? Doesn’t he know by now that I’ll do anything, agree to any alliance if it means keeping her alive?

Every emotion pales, however, in comparison to the tightness in my chest as I watch Finnick attempt to revive her. Her usually rich brown skin is a few shades too light. Her cherry lips now pale, colorless. Maybe it’s all in my mind, but it feels like the entire world is holding its breath alongside me, hoping against all hope that whatever the victor from District 4 is doing will be enough to bring her back to me.

Mags taps my arm again, mimicking an exaggerated breath and gesturing back at me with one of the most sympathetic, pained expressions I think I’ve ever seen.

Breathe.

Right.

I’m no good to anyone if I pass out now. Katniss especially.

If she wakes up.

No. She’ll wake up. She has to. If she doesn’t . . .

I shake my head to clear it.

My cheeks suddenly feel particularly damp, and I use my sleeve to wipe my face, only to find the vast majority of water is pooling beneath my eyes, even after I pull my arm away.

I’m crying.

Minutes tick by, dread and anguish threatening to swallow me whole with each passing moment. I’m about to give into it too when Katniss suddenly lets out a small gasp, and Finnick sits back wearily as I frantically push my way forward. “Katniss?”

“Peeta,” she breathes weakly as she blinks up at me, her quicksilver eyes lined with exhaustion and confusion, but—more importantly—she’s alive.

As carefully as I possibly can, I gather her in my arms, pulling her against my chest with still-shaking hands. “I almost lost you,” I mumble into her hair. I don’t bother trying to keep the terror from my voice; I don’t think I could if I tried.

“But you didn’t,” she reassures me, pulling back slightly but linking her arms behind my neck to prop herself up as she meets my undoubtedly puffy eyes.

“No, but I almost did,” I say. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done . . .”

“But you didn’t,” she repeats. “Peeta, really, I’ll be all right. That force field was just a bit stronger than the one on the roof.”

A bit stronger? “Your heart stopped.” My voice is no louder than a whisper. “Your heart stopped, and if Finnick hadn’t been here—”

She cuts me off in the one way that never fails—by cupping my face in her hands and pressing her lips against mine.

The kiss is over in an instant—she’s still too breathless to hold it for long—but it’s enough to ease the adrenaline pulsing through my body and stop me from arguing with her, enough for me to form the first coherent thought I’ve had since she hit the forcefield.

I rest my hand gently over her abdomen. “If anything happens . . . as long as you’re okay. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Her eyes flare for a moment, as if just now remembering our charade. “Everything feels normal for now,” she says. “I’m just a bit tired.”

“Normal enough to keep going?” Finnick asks suddenly from where he’s now on his feet, leaning against a tree.

“Don’t you think she should get some rest?” I try not to glare as I stand to face the man who just saved the girl I love, but he’s making it really hard not to.

“I didn’t say that. So you want to make camp here, then?”

He’s got me there. We’re not nearly as far as I’d like us to be from the Cornucopia. No water. No food. No protection. We have to keep moving if we have any hope of staying alive. And after almost losing her only a moment ago . . .

An idea strikes me, but forget the Careers—I fear Katniss may kill me herself for merely suggesting it. 

I turn to her now. “Let me carry you.”

As expected, her expression immediately twists into a scowl. “Not a chance,” she snaps.

“You don’t want to overexert yourself,” I say quickly. “With the baby and everything.”

Betrayal flashes in her eyes that I would think to use our strategy to back her into a corner, but I don’t care. Minutes ago, she was dead. If this is what it takes to force her hand in letting me take care of her, I’m fine with that.

The corner of Finnick’s mouth twitches. “Y’know, I told her almost the exact same thing.”

I meet Finnick’s eyes and we share a strange half-smile before I turn back to Katniss.

He knows the truth about the baby, then. Or lack thereof. Mags too, probably.

Emotions war across Katniss’ face as she pushes herself into an upright sitting position. “I’m not weak,” she says softly, looking up at me.

“I know you’re not,” I tell her honestly. “But you need the rest. And we need to go.”

We’re both silent for a moment as she contemplates my offer.

“Five minutes,” Katniss finally says. “I’ll give you five minutes before I get to walk on my own again.”

“As long as you let me know if you start to get tired after that.”

She nods once. “I can do that.”

I know she won’t actually say anything, but I don’t want to risk jeopardizing the five minutes she’s already promised me, so I just kneel for her, letting her climb onto my back before straightening up. She’d never admit it if I brought it up, but she lets out a small sigh of relief as I stand, and just like that, I know all the fighting is worth it.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you carry me like an old lady,” she mutters in my ear as, sure enough, Finnick lifts Mags in the same position beside us.

I chuckle and turn my head back slightly to smile at her, tightening my arms around her thighs. “You’re my old lady. It’s different.”

If today marks the official beginning of my end, I’m certainly not bothering to hold back with her anymore. I’m done being polite. And she is everything to me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her cheeks flushing at my words as I turn back to face forward, following Finnick back downhill. “Am I?”

“You tell me.”

[notsocooljess]

“Whatever”

this is a little drabble/outtake for a fic that i’m currently working on but can’t really seem to find a place for it to fit in with the storyline.

katniss and peeta try to define their relationship a year after peeta returns back to district 12 following the war.

“Haymitch referred to me as your ‘whatever it is that I am’ today,” I say as I nestle my head into the center of Peeta’s chest, getting ready to sleep.

“Did he?” He asks as he wraps his arms around me, and I nod. He hesitates a moment before asking, “Well, what do you want to be?”

I furrow my brow and ask, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I could be your ‘friend,’” Peeta starts, and already I hear the teasing thick in his voice, “but I think we kiss and sleep in the same bed way too often for that one. I mean, how many friends do you know who share a house?” He looks at me with a grin, and I respond with an eye roll and a smile of my own.

“I could be your ‘boyfriend,’ but it feels like we’ve been through a little bit too much for that one, right?”

“Go on,” I say, never wanting him to stop talking when he’s able to run on with a joke like this.

“We could go with ‘partner,’ but it’s a bit too reminiscent of ‘ally’ for my taste,” he states, and I nod. There’s no further explanation needed.

“I could be your ‘husband.’ I mean, we both know more than half the country still thinks we’re already married, but I wouldn’t want that because,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, “believe it or not, I have a keen ability to make really good bread, and I will be damned if people think I had a toasting without the perfect loaf,” he continues. At this point, I’m really laughing while he smiles down at me.

“Or, I could be your ‘lover,’ which might actually be the most accurate title.”

“Why, because we were ‘star-crossed lovers’?” I ask drolly.

“No, because ‘lovers’ implies we’re having a lot of sex.” In response, I smack his arm while he guffaws.

“Alright, alright,” he begins while wiping away his tears from laughing too hard, “well that’s all I can think of. You got anything?”

I look up at him. His blue eyes are shining brighter in the moonlight with the help of his happy tears, and as his eyes find mine again, an easy softness covers his features. He is perfect.

“So one day you’re gonna give me a toasting with the perfect loaf?” I ask. A smile spreads across his lips.

“The absolute best one. A perfect golden brown crust that’s crispy and buttery and herby. The inside will be nice and soft.”

“Will there be fruit and nuts?”

“If that’s what you want.”

I smile. “Then how about after that happens, you can be my husband. But until then, we know that I am yours and you are mine and we are whatever it is that we are.”

He smiles back at me, and I blush, because after a year of doing whatever it is that this is, I will never get used to how much I love it.

“I love you, my whatever,” he says, holding back a laugh as he goes to kiss me on the cheek.

“I love you, too, my whatever,” I say, unable to stifle my chuckle like he could his.

We hold each other close as the crisp autumn air fills the room. My eyes are just starting to drift closed when Peeta asks, “So, I guess this means ‘lovers’ is totally off the table then, right?”

[adsosfraser]

Hello!! 👹👹👹

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

enjoy catching fire divergence with our everlark babies <3 👹

"I don't know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don't notice much because they're so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they're a light golden color and so long I don't see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks." I find my own eyelashes nearly tangled up with his. I'm so caught up in tracing the curve of the light dazzling through the infinitesimal strands that I don't notice our noses are nearly touching until I feel the bridge of his press up against me. Peeta stops shading a blossom and looks into my eyes so suddenly I almost jolt out of my skin. But I hold firm in where I'm sat, curious to see him and feel him again this close. His eyes are as perfect and crisply clear as those late spring days, unburdened by the typical grey rain clouds that come with the occasional spring showers. He's about to say something when I push myself forward, greedy and impulsive in my pursuit. Our nest up in my room is cozy and snug, like our cave that shielded us from the outside world of impending death. I press my lips against his, reaching my hand to the nape of his neck for something to hold. I feel safe and warm, like Peeta is his own personal sun and his lips are spreading life into mine. When I feel that thing again, that want for more, I pull back, my cheeks burning with embarrassment at my selfish act. The sleep syrup has long passed through my system. My actions are from a mind not imbued with sedatives and the like. Peeta looks as if he's trying to contain his confusion, joy, and dismay all at once. He licks his lips, flicking his gaze down to my own before staring back up at me. "You know, that's the first time we've ever kissed without cameras zeroed in on our every move." He's allowing me an out, a way to explain myself or brush the kiss off entirely with a quip. I squeeze his hand in mine, bringing it up to brush a kiss against it. I offer a small smile, uncertain still. ""Yeah." I agree. "Our whole relationship has been tainted by he Games. Normal was never a part of it. "Nice for a change.""

this was such a quick turn around I'm so proud of myself like I really wrote this within minutes of getting the ask 🐿️

thanks for sending in the prompt @atelierlili 🩷

from this ask game

[toastyeverlark]

back with a drabble about my favourite couple <3 there's something new i've included that i don't usually write about, so if you're below 16 don't read this lol

I almost dropped the entire bowl of lamb stew.

Peeta Mellark was looking up at me, the blueness of his eyes almost swallowing me whole. 

“Katniss! You’re working today?”

I hurriedly put down the bowl on the table before my arms decided to act faster than my brain.

“Yeah…” my eyes darted over to the girl opposite him. Ella Atropa, the district beauty. I’d seen her around growing up, and she was always surrounded by people - though I never really understood why. She was like a pretty fruit that had gone bad inside. Surely Peeta should have known better…but who was I to say?

“On a date?” I directed this question to Peeta with a smile, but the sight of Ella looking at me from head to toe like I was some sort of specimen made me stop.

“Oh, no - she had something she wanted - ” Peeta couldn’t even finish his sentence before he got cut off. 

“Yes, and it’s going great. Now could you please check on our appetisers because I expected to have them before the lamb stew,” Ella smiled patronisingly, barely looking at me before turning back to Peeta.

I eyed Peeta, wondering if I had been reading him wrong after all. Was this really the sort of girl he would go on a date with? I felt my heart sink, even though I didn’t really know why.

“Katniss! Table 13!” 

“Gotta go, enjoy your meal,” I said to the floor, not really feeling like saying it to either of them. Peeta looked like he wanted to say something, but I was already making my way towards the old couple, who were waiting patiently to be attended to. 

For the rest of my shift, I avoided his table as much as I could, and for the few times I had to go over, I made sure that I got away as quickly as possible. Peeta tried to say something every time I was there, but I never gave him the chance to. I was relieved when they left - it seemed easier to breathe. It actually felt like my lungs went back to their normal size. 

“Bad day?” Madge Undersee nudged me as we cleaned up for the day. I was rubbing off a stubborn stain on one of the tables, trying not to think about Peeta pulling Ella in for a kiss after sending her to her door. It made my stomach churn.

“No, why do you say that?”

“You made like, five mistakes. I had to cover up for you - Gale got a telling-off because you forgot the order on Table Seven too.” 

“Crap, sorry. Where’s Gale?” 

“He finished his shift already. You can talk to him tomorrow.”

I felt a pang of guilt. Was I really that distracted? I couldn’t believe I was letting Ella have such a hold over me - I always thought I’d never be like one of those morons she had wrapped around her finger. Then again, Peeta, whom I had always thought so highly of, had fallen under her spell, so I should have some excuse. 

“I’m sorry, Madge. This won’t happen again. You guys don’t have to cover up for me, it’s fine if I get yelled at.”

She looked at me with pity, and shook her head.

“I know, it’s not like you to be so absentminded. Grab some leftovers we’ve got in the kitchen and head home. You seem really out of it today,” she squeezed my shoulder and went back to sweeping crumbs off the chairs.

Normally, the thought of having some leftovers would have pleased me very much, but all I felt was a sense of melancholy bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. 

I trudged out of the eatery, the night chill biting my skin. I’d forgotten to bring an extra coat today, which wasn’t ideal for this time of the year. I would just have to endure the 15-minute walk home, which wasn’t even what was really bothering me.

Would I have been as upset if Peeta had gone out with another girl, perhaps? Maybe I wouldn’t have been so bothered if he had gone out with Madge instead. I would have liked that for her - she is really a nice person. Maybe I just felt disappointed that Peeta had turned out to be such a person.

No. I would have felt upset too. I wondered if I was feeling some sort of jealousy. That idea seemed almost absurd to me. I had never felt this way about anyone.

Peeta was never the most popular growing up, which I never understood, but he was certainly a sweetheart. He was always the nicest ever since we were kids, letting the girls play on the swings first, and offering his share of supper with some of the boys who didn’t have enough to eat. His family owned the district bakery, and I’d always see him running about delivering bread with a big smile on his face, rain or shine.

"Katniss!"

I turned around, and the same blue eyes I had seen earlier in the evening enveloped me once again.

"I've been waiting for you. You must be freezing."

Peeta immediately took off his coat and put it around me. I wanted to tell him I didn't need it - the warmth of his eyes was more than enough. It was fascinating. I had always thought that blue eyes would seem cold and uninviting.

"Where's Ella?"

Saying her name left a sour taste in my mouth.

"I wasn't on a date with her," Peeta said quickly.

"It's fine if you were, I wasn't - "

"No, I need to make sure you know it," he insisted, tightening the coat. My hair, which I'd left undone, was trapped under the collar. He pushed it out gently, letting it flow in the wind.

"I was just sitting there, and she swooped in out of nowhere and said she wanted to talk to me about something."

I felt a smile creep into the corners of my mouth.

"Well? Did you two talk?"

"I honestly don't know what her point was. It was nothing relevant. I was trying to talk to you all evening, but you kept running off, and I didn't want to bother you when you were working."

I laughed out loud. "Here I was, thinking you became one of her morons."

Peeta looked visibly sad, and I immediately regretted putting my thoughts on loudspeaker. "You really thought that little of me?"

"I don't rule over your life. It doesn't matter to me who you date."

"That makes me sad," Peeta sighed. What was he trying to say? I continued walking, and he followed.

"It shouldn't."

"You really don't know what I'm trying to tell you?"

"I don't really like assuming anything."

"Katniss," Peeta laughed. "I've been doing things for you, I've been trying to talk to you more - are there no bells ringing in your head?"

"I thought you were just nice."

It was true, he went around doing that for everyone.

"Yeah, but I was doing more for you."

Now that he mentioned it, it struck me that he always liked to stand at my door and talk to me when he was doing his deliveries. The only reason we ended the conversation was that my mother needed me to help her prepare dinner. I noticed that he moved from house to house pretty quickly otherwise.

He had also started bringing me gifts along with the bread deliveries. Some days, it was a bunch of flowers he said he had handpicked from the meadows uphill. Some days, it was something he had carved or sewn or embroidered himself. I'd really just written them all off as niceness.

After all, it was all I had known him for.

"Okay, fine. Still, you can't assume I know what you're trying to do."

"Do you want me to make it more obvious to you?"

"And...how are you going to do that?"

"It's only if you'll let me."

I looked at Peeta, puzzled.

"Can I kiss you?"

The skies could have crashed down on me, and still nothing would have shaken me as much.

"What?"

"I want to kiss you, and I'll only do it if you let me."

What was he saying? What was he doing? How could he be so straightforward with that?

"You said you didn't want to assume anything. Surely this makes it clear enough."

I was distracted. I could barely register what he was saying - I was too conscious of the way his eyes were locking on mine, and occasionally drifting down to where my lips were.

I instinctively licked them - they had been really dry, and especially so because of the weather.

I'd never kissed anyone. I could just see myself making it really awkward, not knowing what to do. I would have liked to be more prepared - I would have used that concoction Prim cooked up at home. She had said that it would keep the lips moist and flower-scented. I had no care of any of that, up until now.

"Yes."

I didn't really think it through. I just knew that I really wanted to, and I knew that I would never have the courage to ask again. My heart was beating so loudly, I was afraid he would hear it. But as he moved towards me, I felt relief that despite all his bravado, he was as nervous as I was.

Fireworks erupted in my brain as I felt his lips on mine. He moved gently, slowly, curbing the desire I could feel bubbling up inside him. I didn't need to be afraid of not knowing what to do; he made everything seem so easy. It was so easy to stand there in the cold and kiss him like nothing else mattered. It was like time had stopped and the world had ceased turning.

His hand moved up to caress my face, and I instinctively moved my hand up to cup his jaw. I wouldn't toot my own horn, but for someone like me who had never kissed, he seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was.

His mouth was so soft. I tasted a tad of sweet wine in his kiss, and it was lovely. I wondered if he could taste that bit of lamb stew I had for lunch...it made me cringe. I wouldn't like to kiss someone knowing what they had for their previous meal.

With that thought, I pulled away, though Peeta visibly looked like he needed more.

"And then I woke up from the best dream of my life," Peeta sighed, his finger grazing my lip.

I blushed beet red. Since when had he gotten so flirty?

"Could you taste what I had this afternoon?" I blurted out.

"You could've eaten out of the trash and I'd still kiss you the same."

He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"If you know now that it doesn't matter to me, will you let me kiss you again?"

I laughed. Then it was like my body had taken over me - my hand reached for his shirt and I pulled him towards me, letting our lips fit together like a perfect jigsaw puzzle.

The chill of the night had long been forgotten.