Piltie booze sucks ass and I'm tired of pretending it doesn't, holy shitttttt.
This shit has all the appeal of sewage sludge. Fuckin distilled water has a higher alcoholic content. What the Hell are you guys drinking this shit for?
The lovely @litlifelover and I have some of the most interesting discussions, and hopefully she’ll forgive me for turning one of them into this little drabble.
This one’s for you, M ;) I’m still keeping three Chrises...
“You can’t have all of the Chrises, Katniss, you have to save at least one for me,” Madge giggled, the warm ruby liquid in her cup threatening to slosh over the edge.
“Careful with that, drunkie,” Katniss snickered. “Peeta will be cheesed if you spill Glühwein all over his couch.” Madge rolled her eyes at the botched pronunciation.
“Who are you calling drunkie, drunkie?” Madge giggled again, but put the cup down anyway. “Peeta never gets cheesed,” she continued. “Your roomie is the most even-tempered guy I’ve ever met.”
“He has to be, to put up with me.” Katniss winked, and grabbed another cheese puff from the tray Peeta, her best friend forever, and roommate since they finished college a year and a half ago, had prepared earlier. He’d baked several trays of treats - both savoury and sweet - for her Christmas girls night in. But six hours into her annual celebration of mulled wine and bitching, the trays were nearly empty and all that remained of the Glühwein was two very drunk women and the lingering scent of orange and cloves. “Fine,” Katniss said, returning to their conversation. “I'll give you one Chris, your choice... but I'm keeping Henry Cavill.”
“Oh maaaaan,” Madge groaned. “You have three Chrises, you have to at least share Henry, I'm sorry, those are the rules.”
“Well,” Katniss acquiesced. “Henry is so big, we could share and not even notice that we're both clinging to him.”
Madge burst into laughter. “Although, if he keeps the mustache, you can have him.”
Katniss shuddered. “I hate the porn ‘stache too.”
“Okay then, you get three Chrises, I get one, and we share Henry ... you’re getting a better deal here, girlfriend.”
Katniss nodded. “I think you need one more to add to your harem.”
Madge picked up her cup again. “I can't think of a single attractive man now. What's in this stuff anyway?”
“Uhm,” Katniss wrinkled her brow, thinking back to earlier when Peeta had been cooking and she'd been assisting. “Cloves. Cinnamon. Cardamom. Orange peel. Peach juice. And four bottles of wine.” Minus the glass Peeta had poured for her as a helper payment.
“It's sooooo good,” Madge sighed, draining the last of her cup. “Oh! Tom Hardy. Add him to my list.” Katniss scowled.
“I just don't get what you see in him.”
Madge grinned. “He looks like Gale.” Katniss rolled her eyes. As much as she loved Madge, being reminded of her friend’s perfect relationship just made Katniss all the more aware of her own complete lack of romantic prospects. Hence, the imaginary harem she was building of hot men.
“What about Armie Hammer?”
“Who's that again?”
“Madge! He’s only the hottest guy on the planet!”
“Talking about me, are you?” Katniss looked up with a start to see her best friend walking through the apartment door. Peeta crossed the room, unwinding the scarf from around his neck and shaking snow from his overlong curls. He stopped in front of her, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair.
“You’re home early,” Katniss said, but the smile was clear in her voice. Peeta laughed, holding out his arm for her to read his wristwatch.
“Rye and I closed out the bar,” he said. “It’s half past two, Kitten.” Katniss flushed with pleasure at the nickname that only he was ever allowed to use.
“I thought you were going back to his place?” she said, gazing up at his wide smile and winter-kissed cheeks.
“I thought so too, but he decided he’d rather keep company with a girl he picked up at the bar.” Katniss snorted; that was pretty typical of Peeta’s brother.
“And you couldn’t find a one-night-stand of your own?” Madge laughed, but Katniss frowned. Peeta hadn’t brought any girls to their apartment the entire time they’d been roommates, and the idea of him doing so now made her strangely uncomfortable.
Peeta stood, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to acknowledge Madge. “Ah, no, wasn’t looking,” he said. “And how are you, lovely Madge?”
“I am a little tipsy on this very nice Glühwein you made for us.”
“I’m surprised Katniss let you have any of it,” he laughed. “It’s her favourite you know.” He started towards the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder, “Where are the rest of the ladies?”
“Their boyfriends all picked them up already,” Katniss called back, pouting. Except for Madge, the others had all bailed early, anxious to spend time with their significant others.
“Meant more wine for us,” Madge said, wrapping her arm around Katniss. “But I should really head home too.” Katniss nodded, and Madge pulled out her phone to text her boyfriend for a ride.
While they waited for Gale to make the four-and-a-half minute drive over to the apartment, Katniss pulled up Armie Hammer in google images. “See,” she slurred. “Totally hot. He’s exactly my type.” She sighed. “So pretty.”
Madge stared at the phone screen for a long time, flipping through image after image with a thoughtful expression. “You know, he looks an awful lot like Peeta.” Madge squinted. “A slightly older Peeta, maybe.”
Katniss snatched the phone from her friend’s hand and gawked at the screen. Bright blue eyes. Ashy blond hair that flopped appealing over his forehead. Perfectly defined pecs. Shit, he really did look like Peeta. Her jaw dropped and she lifted her glassy gaze to Madge’s
Madge was smirking. “And the Chrises, they all kind of look like Peeta too, blondies with big blue eyes…”
“Stop,” Katniss whined, and Madge laughed.
“I’m just saying…” The doorbell ringing put a halt to any further teasing.
Peeta reappeared, wrapping an arm around Katniss as she said goodnight to Madge and Gale. When the door closed, Katniss looked up to find Peeta was gazing down at her, a soft smile lighting his handsome face. “What?” she said, but she was smiling too. It was hard not to smile around Peeta.
“Missed you tonight,” he said. “That’s all.”
“Me too,” she smiled. She twisted in his arms, pivoting to really look at Peeta, whose eyes twinkled in amusement at her inspection. It was true that he resembled Armie Hammer, they were both strikingly handsome. But Armie Hammer didn’t make her Glühwein or cheese buns. Armie Hammer didn’t hold her hand when she was scared or send her flowers when she got that promotion. The more she looked at the beautiful, kind man standing beside her, the more she realized that all of the Chrises and Henrys and Armies in the world couldn’t compare to Peeta. He was the real deal.
