#extension request

[blondebrainpowered]

[deinde-prandium]

Wondering if someone put Extension Request on some random Everlark fic rec list because I’m suddenly seeing a lot of Ao3 notes. Is THG experiencing some kind of resurgence? (If so I am all here for it, but yeah it’s a little confusing haha)

[deinde-prandium]

Extension request (future-take #3)

I’ve been meaning to make a ficlet based on this post for a while, and for some reason the inspiration struck and I wrote it this a couple days ago. Maybe just feeling nostalgic since the tenth anniversary of the Hunger Games movie is this week. So, please enjoy another little snapshot from the Extension Request universe (because professor!Peeta will always live in my heart).

Unbeta’d, etc. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

—

“Wow, it’s been years. This really takes me back.”

I can’t help but cast a look in my husband’s direction as he stares up at the blue awning of Sae’s diner. As expected, Peeta is grinning like a fool. “Nothing like a visit to the old stomping grounds to whip up those nostalgic feelings, right?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. To be truthful, for as much as Peeta looks at his days marking papers in a booth at Sae’s with fondness, I still tend to associate the place with the cringey embarrassment I’d nearly drowned in all those years ago. No desire to relive any of those memories, thank you.

Which is a shame, really, because the food was actually quite good. 

Peeta seems to clue in, judging by the light chuckle he lets out. “Come on, Katniss. You can’t still be thinking about—”

“—about how you were reading the porn I wrote in my Poli Sci paper while hopped up on morphling? Yeah, can’t say it didn’t cross my mind.”

“It was forever ago,” he insists. “And besides, you have to admit that it’s made for a great story.”

“An incredibly embarrassing story,” I correct.

Peeta shoots a sly smile my way. “Our origin story. And to be fair, if anyone had anything to be embarrassed about in that booth, it was me.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Excuse me?”

Despite my protestations, Peeta pulls me into an embrace. “You heard me,” he whispers. “My reaction to your writing bordered on indecent, you know. I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or annoyed that you didn’t notice at the time.”

“Might have spared us a good amount of angst,” I concede. “Though I still have dreams about our meeting in your office that day.”

“Dr. Everdeen, I’m shocked. And to think, we haven’t recreated that moment in your office.”

“We’ll be back home in a couple days,” I murmur, toying with the collar of his dress shirt. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Are you two pervs done yet?”

Peeta and I instinctively spring away from each other like two students caught in the act, rather than an actual married couple. I turn to find Jo smirking in our direction.

“Professor Mason, how nice to see you again,” Peeta says with a grin. “Katniss and I were just enjoying a moment of nostalgia, is all.”

Jo shoots him a look. “Thinking about the time you two almost broke my desk, you mean.” She pauses, clearly taking a moment to relish how the memory has me blushing like an idiot - just as it does every time she brings it up. “Anyway, Haymitch sent me to see what was taking you two so long. Good thing I arrived when I did, or you might have gotten yourselves arrested.”

Peeta, at least, seems unruffled by Jo’s teasing. “Missed you too, Jo,” he replies with a laugh. “So, how’s the old man?”

“See for yourself. Why he wanted to meet up here at Sae’s is beyond me, but I’m glad you could make it.”

Having dispensed with the obligatory banter, Jo motions for us to follow her into the restaurant. The diner has been closed for a private event - Professor Haymitch Abernathy’s retirement party. It’s an intimate, casual affair (“budget cuts,” Jo notes sardonically), but Peeta’s former mentor seems to be in his element. I actually can’t think of a time I’ve seen him so…relaxed.

Though that could also be due to the bottles of white liquor lining the bar.

“Well if it ain’t the star-crossed lovers,” Haymitch drawls. “How’s my star pupil?”

“Willow’s at home, actually,” Peeta answers, pulling Haymitch into a hug. “Left her with Katniss’s sister so that we could have a date night while we’re in town.”

“You two are no fun,” he pouts. “I was gonna show her the pictures of the geese that congregate outside my office every morning. I’m thinking of adopting them when I leave this place. Any hints on how I could make that happen, Katniss? You’re the expert.”

I just roll my eyes. “We can talk about it at brunch tomorrow, Haymitch,” I tell him. “And before you ask, yes of course Willow’s looking forward to seeing you again. Assuming you don’t overdo it tonight, that is?” I add, casting a not-so-subtle glance at the glass in his hand.

The old professor barks out a laugh. “I always knew I liked you, Sweetheart. You know, Peet here wasn’t subtle at all about his little crush on you back in his TA days—”

Now it’s Peeta’s turn to feel embarrassed. “Not this story again, Haymitch, please.”

“—you could see it on his face as soon as he saw your name on the class list—”

“Haymitch, no—”

“—and to think, it’s all because I assigned him to your tutorial that the two of you got together. We had a bet going, Mason and I, for when the two of you would get your heads out of your asses and realize what was going on. Took longer than both of us thought, which is honestly saying something.”

Much to my amusement, my husband’s usually cool demeanor has been replaced by an adorable blush that reaches up to his ears. So much for nostalgia.

Of course, it’s just my luck that my phone rings, interrupting the moment.

“We should probably take this,” I say apologetically. “Prim promised Willow she could call to say good night to us before she goes to bed.”

“Put her on speaker,” Haymitch says, wearing an indulgent expression akin to that of a doting grandfather rather than an eccentric academic. A few of his colleagues seem shocked by the transformation, but he doesn’t seem to pay them any mind. After all, he’s practically family.

“Sure.” I hit Accept on the call as I pull my phone out of my bag and switch it to speaker. “Hi, Prim.”

Except it’s not Prim.

“Hey, is this the bird professor?” a young man shouts. The din of voices in the background suggests that he, like me, has his phone on speaker. And the slight slurring of his speech seems to suggest that he’s, well…totally sloshed. “Dr. Everdeen, the bird professor? Is that you?”

I do my best to maintain my composure. “Um, yes, this is Dr. Everdeen. May I ask how you got this number?”

The gentleman on the other end of the line does not answer my question. Instead, he asks another of his own. “Do mockingjays have feet?”

“Pardon me?”

“My friends and I were talking about mockingjays,” he explains. Drunk or not, there’s an urgency in his tone that suggests he’s taking the matter incredibly seriously. “And one of them said they don’t have feet. And I said that that was bullshit, of course they have feet, because why wouldn’t they? And now everyone wants to know the answer, and I was told to ask you because you’re the bird professor and you know a lot about mockingjays, like more than any of us ever could- and like that’s a lot, ‘cause this bar is like fucking packed, man, and we all just really need to know if mockingjays have feet. It’s just really, really important to us. So do they?”

Silence falls, and it’s then that I realize that everyone appears to be waiting for my answer. Not just the drunk students on the other end of the line; everyone at Sae’s also appears to have caught on to the absolutely bizarre conversation I’ve inadvertently been drawn into.

Jo raises her eyebrows. “Well?” she mouths.

I clear my throat and raise the phone to my lips. “Yes.”

My response elicits a remarkably exuberant round of cheers from whatever bar these kids are calling me from. “Yes!!! Thank you so much, Dr. Everdeen! You’re the best!” the young man cries. Shouts of “Pay up, bitches!” and “I knew it!!” filter in over the speakerphone, and the call ends as abruptly as it began.

I look up to see Peeta staring at me with a strange mix of wonder and glee in his eyes as he desperately tries to hold in a laugh. Jo shakes her head. Everyone else seems to be either confused or impressed.

And Haymitch? He simply raises his glass in salute, sending a smirk my way before turning to chat with a colleague, as if his retirement party had not just been interrupted in such a surreal manner.

Blowing out a breath, I turn to Peeta. “So is this what it feels like?” I ask.

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “No, the drunken messages I get don’t usually involve an audience. Your experience is absolutely unique in that regard.”

“That poor kid is never going to hear the end of it when he realizes what he’s done,” I say with a laugh of my own.

Peeta loops his arm around my shoulder. “Nah,” he replies. “He’s just making some funny memories. Just like we did. Will he think about it and cringe? Probably. But it’ll make for a good story.”

My gaze lands on Peeta’s old corner booth as he speaks. A vision of two idiot college kids awkwardly flirting amid stacks of unmarked papers appears in my mind’s eye, and I can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” I say. “I suppose it will.”

[deinde-prandium]

Lol, I just wrote an Extension Request future-take out of the blue. I’ll try to post it tonight, but yeah. Writing inspiration is a weird thing sometimes.

[deinde-prandium]

Hi just wanted to tell you how much I love “Extension Request”! Would love to see some outtakes from their future!

Oh my goodness, thank you! I admit that I think about this universe with alarming frequency. Basically, if you send me ANY post remotely related to academia, I am likely to (at the very least) write a mini fic in the tags, if not a full outtake. I still have a couple floating in my brain, specifically one related to Peeta being a supportive bf at Katniss's PhD thesis defense (because let's be honest, even though the painkillers made her stupid, she is really quite brilliant - and Peeta knows it). I will see about actually writing something if the right inspiration strikes... ;)

[deinde-prandium]

Extension request (future take)

I saw this post the other day and it immediately reminded me of professor!Peeta (obviously), so the makings of a drabble ended up in the tags. Full credit, however, goes to @mega-aulover for goading me into turning it an actual story.

I wrote this in an hour and it hasn’t been beta’d, so please forgive any mistakes...aside for the ones I made on purpose ;)

---

I hate my life.

Okay fine, I don’t hate it - not by a long shot. But I do hate that despite the veritable mountain of pillows I have on either side of me, I can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in.

I adjust the blanket for the 74th time before casting it off completely. What was I thinking? I’m fucking boiling in here. 

Losing the blanket actually seems to do the trick. But just as I’m finally about to drift off, a loud guffaw jolts me awake.

Fuck. Dr. Aurelius told me I need to get as much rest as possible, but the universe seems determined to ensure that never happens.

“Peeta!” I yell, frustrated.

My husband comes running in, phone in hand. “What? What? Is it happening?”

“No,” I say with a scowl. “But I was trying to take a nap, and you woke me up.”

“Sorry, love.” Shooting me a sheepish smile, he sits down at the edge of the bed and rubs my back soothingly. “I just...got an email.”

The back rub appeases me, but only to a point. “It must have been pretty hilarious,” I grumble. 

He smiles. “It was, actually. In a nostalgic, reminder-of-why-I-love-my-wife kind of way.”

I tilt my head upwards to face him more fully. “Explain?”

Peeta shows rather than tells, offering me a look at his phone as he pulls up his school email app.

“Just read,” he urges. His eyes sparkle mischievously. “You’ll understand what I mean.”

It’s pretty obvious which message he’s referring to. The message - I recognize the sender as one of his PhD students - is at the top of the screen. But that’s not why it’s so distinctive.

What grabs my attention is the subject line, which simply reads “OW.”

To: Peeta Mellark

From: Leevy Watkins

Today at 1:27pm

Subject: OW

dear hello professor Peet, 

I am sick (allergig to tracker jack bees and got stung, not doing too god and not sure if I’ll be alive to come tomorrow to our thesis dense meeting and I’m sorry, i have big heache. Everything shiny like orange bubbles, talk edits soon i promse. 

best slutantions, 

Leevy

I look up at Peeta. He’s trying hard to hold in a laugh, but a small chuckle still manages to escape.

“It seems,” he observes, “that you have a successor.”

I glare at him. I can’t even remember how long it’s been since I sent that disastrous message (though the fuzziness of my memory is more likely due to present circumstances than anything else)...and yet, it still continues to haunt me. 

“I’m more than happy to pass the mantle on to someone else,” I deadpan. 

“Oh, come on!” he whines. “It’s funny, right?”

“Well, since I know you are going to be all sweet and understanding and ignore the part where Leevy signed off with ‘best slutantions,’ I suppose I can allow you to enjoy a bit of a laugh. As long as she doesn’t have a crush on you. Which I know she doesn’t. So we’re good.”

He leans down to kiss my forehead. “I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you a million more times. I’m so glad you wrote me that day. If you didn’t, who knows where we’d be?”

I’m about to respond, when a sensation down below grabs my attention. A very wet sensation.

So much for my nap.

“Well,” I say tightly, “If I didn’t write you, you probably wouldn’t be taking me to the hospital like you need to right this second.”

“Take you to the hospi- oh. OH. Oh my god. It’s time?”

A contraction hits, and my face twists. “Yup,” I confirm with a wince. 

Peeta jumps to his feet, flying around the room in search of my pre-packed hospital bag. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do this.” He hefts the duffel over his shoulder and turns back to help me up from the bed.

I take deep breaths as I hobble to the bathroom to grab a towel for the car. “Just promise me something before we go,” I tell him. 

“Of course. Anything,” he says, an endearing combination of panic and adoration in his eyes.

“When we’re at the hospital...promise you won’t let me send any emails.”

He lets out a watery laugh. “Absolutely. Now let’s go meet our baby.”

---

To: Leevy Watkins

From: Peeta Mellark

Today at 11:58pm

Subject: Re: OW

Dear Leevy,

I’m so sorry to hear that you had an unfortunate encounter with a tracker jacker today. I didn’t realize we had that allergy in common! 

I hope that by the time you read this message, you are feeling recovered. That said, please don’t worry about our meeting. I won’t be able to make it tomorrow, anyway. Katniss gave birth a few hours ago, so I’m going to take a few days off to focus on her and the baby.

We’ll schedule a meeting about your thesis edits/defense in the next couple weeks (luckily you still have plenty of time!) Hope you feel better soon. 

Best,

Peeta

PS. Her name is Willow.

[deinde-prandium]

I think it's a sign that you are not done on the ER universe 😋

Hahaha I knoooooooooow! Everytime I see anything academia related, I automatically think of professor!Peeta. I'm probably projecting a little since I'm a recovering academic myself, lol. But I will see what I can do 😉

[deinde-prandium]

Omg I thought the same thing but was like nah I m not gonna bother her again about Extension Request 😂

Hahahaha oh man I don't know if I have the brain space for this, but I might do it if it bugs me enough. I tagged it with as much detail as possible so I can come back to it later if the opportunity strikes. But until then, you will have to content yourself with a tag drabble, lol

But also, spoiler alert: Haymitch is there just because (even though he is in a totally different department) but he knows Peeta (obvs) and knows what Peeta is doing...and he totally approves. In fact, that's the day he puts money in the Political Science department pool and places a bet on when Peeta's gonna propose...