Happy belated birthday @shellibug!
A small gift for you, because you’re one of my most loyal readers and an awesome beta to boot!!! Love you!!!
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“Let’s talk about this for a moment,” he said frowning in confusion, absently rubbing his forehead with the pad of his fingers.
“Let’s not.” I glare directly at him and he has the good sense to avert his gaze.
“But I want to understand!” He almost begs.
“What else is there to understand, Peeta?” I ask annoyed with his insistence. “It’s pretty self explanatory. I came in to the bakery after my hunt, and helped poor Fern serve a few patrons that were giving her grief. You need to give that girl a raise just for putting up with some of your customers.” I say curtly.
“O… kay. I think I can manage to give my employees a few extra coins a month. I still don’t understand why were my employees giggling uncontrollably about a spooked customer you were “helping”?” He says with air quotations.
“It was nothing, really.” I wave him off and try to go back to slice vegetables for supper, but he leans forward so I’m force to acknowledge his presence. Lousy bastard knows me so well after all this time.
“Elaborate?” He says with a hand gesture.
I huff and drop my knife on the cutting board. “That awful woman ‘asked’— more like, demanded— to be served by you personally, again! I stepped up relieving Fern so I could serve the lady myself. But the woman tried to get cute with me, explaining as if I was a five year old, that she needed to see the owner, to thank him properly.
“I told her that she was talking to the owner’s spouse which amounted to the same thing at the end—“
“Wait a second!” He interrupts my story grabbing my shoulders and turning me so we’re face to face. “You told some stranger you were my spouse?” He asks and the muscles of his face twitch unable to settle on one emotion.
“Well, yeah! The stuff we do behind closed doors is exactly the things that married people do in the privacy of their bedroom… so...” I try to shrug nonchalantly but my whole face is burning up. We’ve been feeding the hunger for a few months now, but I still get mortified when the subject is brought up openly.
There’s a goofy smile starting to take over Peeta’s face, so to prevent him from commenting further I suddenly snap defensively, “Plus I seem to remember someone fibbing about some secret toasting on national TV.” I try to not over do it, not wanting to trigger any episodes, though those come far and in between and he can manage them better now, there’s no reason to poke the bear.
It does however cause the effect I was after, when Peeta shuts his kissable mouth and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah… I guess so. Please, by all means. Continue?”
“There’s nothing else much to it. The woman gave me this dumb look before feigning surprise at the realization that she was talking to the Mockingjay in person, because apparently she didn’t recognize me without my bow and arrows— like the fact that she’s in 12, at Mellark’s bakery with the huge picture of us holding hands hanging on the wall behind the register wasn’t enough to clue her in—“ I roll my eyes, “Then I apologized for the confusion, and brought my bow and arrows from under the counter where I’d put them earlier, and for some reason she got pale and shaky and left after babbling some nonsense about what a great honor it was to meet me, and she was an admirer of the two of us, but she'd just remembered she was gluten intolerant.”
“For some reason?” He eyes me suspiciously repeating back my earlier words.
“What can I say? She seemed to be a newly relocated capitolite. And you know how weird those people are.” I shrug.
“Katniss?” He drags out the Ss at the end of my name. He knows there’s more.
“I may have loaded the bow and aimed it above her head just to confirm my identity.” I say offhandedly.
“You what?” Now he looks chagrin and pulls his hair with both hands.
I wonder if it’s crazy that watching him so flustered and worked up is making me warm all over? If I don’t look away the hunger will come back with a vengeance and who knows what will happen then. For all my prudish ways, I’m usually the instigator in our relationship.
“Okay.” He finally says on a exhale. “First of all, we can’t threaten the customers. Can you imagine if I had come out of the back room brandishing a piping bag to attack Gale every time he showed up without you on tow?”
“What? Are you serious? What were you planning to do with a piping bag, frost him to death?” I want to sound outraged but my retort comes out with an amused snort completely ruining the effect.
Peeta shrugs. “Hey, I didn’t have the same resources you had in weaponry.” Now we are smirking at each other. “So, this is what’s gonna happen,” he says turning serious. “You’re gonna let me come up with a sappy, romantic way to propose… for real this time around,” he glares at me and all I can do is raise my hands in surrender trying to hide my smile.
“Then,” He continues, “we’ll get married, for real, either by Justice Building or a simple toasting, is up to you and I promise I’ll make you the most decadent chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted,”
“Tempting.” I say bringing my arms around his neck as he coils his around my waist.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s high time you make a honest man out of me, miss Everdeen.” He kisses my nose with a goofy smile and I just snort a chuckle at his antics, because if anything, he should be making an honest wife out of me, but I guess this is how’s always meant to be.
“And what if any more women come after you annoying me?” I pout.
“Then you’ll deal with them… without the bow?” We are both laughing now, and I truly treasure this moment that has been so hard fought for. I will never stop loving this man.
“So, you just agreed to let me propose to you. Real or not real?”
I know the old game is not really necessary since his eyes are clear as day and he’s smiling brightly, but I follow suit because giving him reassurance won’t ever hurt. “Real!” And then, because I’m stupidly giddy when he spins me around I yell, “We’re getting married!”
“For real!” He amends before sealing the deal with a kiss.
