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Katniss could smell it as soon as she stepped out of the stairwell and onto her hallway.
“Wow,” Johanna muttered from behind her.
“Damn, that smells good,” added Finnick, shaking his head to both convey his disbelief and get the rain off of his hat. “Wonder boy baker making a dinner surprise again tonight?”
Katniss snorted.
“Well since Wednesday’s a weekday, then yes, it’s fair game for a blog-trial night.” She tried to sound relaxed, a bit aloof, casual. But the smell was still wafting towards them and made it difficult not to run straight to her door. Was that bread? Maybe even cheese? God she hoped so.
Finnick stopped in front of Number Four with a loud sigh. “Well, remember to tell lover-man over there he knows where to find me if he wants a new trial subject.”
“Ugh, yeah, you so don’t deserve that,” Johanna grumbled as she stopped at her door a bit further down the hall. “Whatever. Just don’t scandalize poor Rue and Thresh when you’re ‘thanking’ him for it later tonight. These walls are thin.”
Katniss busied herself with searching through her bag for her keys, hoping it hid her blush.
“Yeah yeah,” she said as she managed to unlock her door. “Good night to both of you.”
Sheesh. Her neighbors were something else.
“Hi,” she called as she shut the door behind her, stamping her boots to rid them of excess water.
“Hey! You’re just in time.” Peeta’s voice floated down the hall from the kitchen. “Dinner’s just now ready.”
Katniss sighed with pleasure. She had been starving since leaving school, and the pouring rain and bus packed with grumpy commuters had not exactly lifted her spirits. But if anything could, it was sure to be Peeta’s cooking.
Unless, of course, he had cooked more beets...
Peeta was taken to moods in the kitchen, to put it lightly. He’d find some exciting new vegetable on his weekly trip to the farmers’ market and then would try preparing in it in half a dozen different ways over the next few days. Other times he’d find a recipe online - some new idea or technique that had never occurred to him - and would spend a solid week replicating it and crafting new, improved variations.
The thousands of online subscribers to the weekly Peeta’s Pantry posts certainly didn't mind. In fact, Katniss routinely had to remind herself that the results of her boyfriend's sometimes-manic kitchen explorations were adored by myriads of gushing young (and a quite few older) women (and quite a few men) around the world. His fans were nothing if not devoted, and with every post they literally ate up whatever he wrote.
Maybe it was the imminent arrival of winter, but recently Peeta had been on what Katniss could only describe as a root-vegetable binge. Already this week he’d made roasted beet and carrot salad, multiple recipes containing sauteed beets and greens, two loaves of carrot bread and an experimental batch of cloyingly sweet beet popovers that looked enticingly similar to red velvet cupcakes but had the texture of frozen dinner rolls and tasted like honey that had gone to sugar.
Peeta obviously hadn’t been too happy with the latter results himself. Still, Katniss had nibbled on one and masked her desire to chug an entire glass of water until his back was turned.
Realistically, Katniss knew she was incredibly lucky to have someone as talented as Peeta cooking for her every day. She knew she should be grateful.
But really, was it too much to hope for dinner to be a simple pork chop with potatoes every once in awhile? She would honestly be content, even thrilled, if he just brought up some rolls from the bakery and they made ham sandwiches out of them.
But this was his dream, the thing he clung to on his darker days when Katniss knew there was nothing she could say to lighten his thoughts. His view counter and comment rate reassured him that he mattered in a different way than her words or attempted gestures of affection.
Sometimes it was worrisome. But deep down, Katniss understood completely.
Some demons you have to battle on your own.
Katniss hung up her dripping raincoat, toed off her boots, and tossed her backpack into their bedroom before heading down the hallway.
She peeked into the kitchen to find Peeta scrubbing the counter, his back to her. A streak of flour zigg-zagged down one shoulder of the soft, wool sweater he was wearing. How he had managed that, she had no idea. For one thing, Peeta was usually incredibly neat in the kitchen. Secondly, he didn’t even appear to be baking.
And thirdly, it was at least 75 degrees in the small kitchen. How he was always wearing thick sweaters in the heat of their old, poorly-renovated apartment was another question that would never cease to baffle her. While she ran hot even in the dead of winter, Peeta was bundled up in scarves and sweaters at the first hint of cool autumn air. Katniss found it both endearing and amusing.
Her amusement abruptly faded, however, when she noticed the pile of fresh beet greens lying beside the kitchen sink.
Well damn. Looked like beets were on the menu again after all.
She took a deep, fortifying breath and then willed her legs to propel her into the kitchen in a normal manner.
“Hi, how was your day?” She grabbed a cup from the cabinet, hoping she sounded sufficiently relaxed.
“Pretty good.” She felt him move up behind her as she filled her glass with water. He leaned over her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “How about you? Did the little demon biology students behave today?” he added softly. His hand rested on the curve of her waist for just a few, soft seconds before he moved back.
Peeta was prone to this kind of casual physical contact. It still made her uncomfortable sometimes, especially if they weren’t alone. But in her kitchen, at least, she had long ago allowed herself to relax around him. She maybe even enjoyed the intimacy of his soft touches and gentle caresses. And he seemed to understand that, even though she would never admit it to him.
“It was fine,” she replied and then grimaced. “But it’s pouring out there now. And people are so much grumpier on public transportation when they’re also dripping wet.”
“Mmm,” he murmured a sympathetic agreement that sounded like a smile. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Well lucky for you, food is ready. Come on, sit down.”
She sat down on one side of the table that was already set with two places. There was no hint of what he had made...
“I give you: my newest creation.”
And he placed in front of her a plate filled with salad and… a pile of bright pink worms?
“Um, what is it?” She tried to sound curious, but the words came out a little too pinched and anxious. He chuckled.
“Spaghetti with beet pesto and arugula salad.”
“Beet pesto ?”
“Mags was trying it on one of her posts a few weeks ago and we still had some beets, so I thought I’d give it a go.”
Katniss looked down at her plate, still dubious. Peeta sat down across from her.
“I thought pesto was supposed to have like, herbs and greens. Like basil? Not vegetables.”
“Well yes, usually. But that’s why this is fun. Come on, when have I ever steered you wrong?”
She stared at him incredulously, opting to stay silent until he broke.
It didn’t take long.
“Okay okay, I get that the popovers were a struggle. I wasn’t used to the sweetness in the beets. But this is different. There’s cheese it in. Loads of cheese just the way you like it.”
Katniss glanced back at the plate in front of her. Its bright, purple-pink contents were startlingly reminiscent of a pile of brains. Although the sprinkle of parmesan and bright sprig of parsley did help a bit. She pursed her lips.
“Just try it. Please?”
His soft plea struck her like an icicle in the gut.
Sure, he was almost certainly playing to her weaknesses. But when had she ever been able to resist when Peeta asked something of her? And, more importantly, why would she want to? She hoped she wasn’t that terrible of a girlfriend (no matter what Johanna said).
So, with a small but resolute nod she picked up her fork, twirled a few noodles, and brought them to her lips. His actions mirrored her own, but she could feel him glancing up to watch her, cataloging her every reaction to his latest potential masterpiece.
She schooled her features, took a bite, chewed and...
“Holy shit.”
This was… delicious. There was no other word for it. It was absolutely delicious.
Sure, she could tell it contained a lot of beets. (Even without the give-away color, Katniss was pretty sure that she’d be able to identify the taste of beets for the rest of her life now.) But there was also the deep, salty tang of her favorite parmesan cheese; something rich and nutty; and something bright like lemon and maybe the parsley he’d sprinkled over top.
“Is that a good kind of ‘holy shit’ or is it really that terrible?”
“This is amazing,” she mumbled around another mouthful.
“Oh.” He gave her a pleased, if slightly surprised smile. “Good.” They both chewed in silence for a moment.
“Could anything be better, do you think? Are the beets or anything too strong?”
“Peeta, I was actually about to kill you for feeding me beets for the third day in a row, but you can make this for me for the rest of the week. I take back everything I said about beets being a terrible vegetable.”
His answering smile was so radiant that Katniss had to remind herself to continue chewing. She looked down, concentrating on the food so that she wouldn’t betray herself by blushing or something stupid like that. They’d been living together for a year, for heaven’s sake, she should be able to control her emotions while having a simple mealtime conversation.
They ate in a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, he set down his fork.
“Want any more?”
“Yes,” she nodded, trying not to sound too eager as he scooped up another serving. However, after eating the second portion in under two minutes, she conceded that restraint was probably overrated in this context.
“God, I think I want thirds even though I'm full. Your readers are probably going to have a meltdown and spontaneously combust or something. What did you put in that, morphling?”
He snorted.
“Knowing you it’s probably just the addictive drug called parmesan. I’m really glad you like it, but you should leave a little room. There’s still dessert after this.”
Katniss straightened up.
“Dessert?”
For a professional baker, Peeta rarely had excessive sweets around the house.
“Well… dessert of sorts. A savoury after-dinner snack, really. But there are no root vegetables involved, I promise. Come on, let’s clean up and then we can have it with wine and Netflix.”
Good lord, what had she ever done to deserve this man?
As it was whenever Peeta cooked, there wasn’t actually all that much left to clean up. So Katniss simply washed and dried the plates and utensils while he put away the leftovers.
As he spooned the extra pesto into a container, Katniss couldn’t help but regret how rude she had been to him earlier. She had just had a long day, and it wasn’t her fault that she had been starving and didn't want to smile through more popovers. That was fair, right?
With a sigh, Katniss turned off the water.
“Um… just so you know, I’m sorry if I was rude to you about dinner when I came home. And if I’ve been rude about all the other things you’ve made this week. I… I really appreciate you making me dinner and it was honestly really good.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He came and stood next to her, taking the last plate from her hands and placing it in the cabinet.
“You know I’m being serious though, right?” she added quietly.
She twisted the dish towel awkwardly in her hands and looked down at the counter to avoid his gaze. A year and a half had taught Katniss many things, but chief among them was that Peeta’s eyes at this close of a distance did funny things to her ability to speak.
The light touch of his hand on her shoulder startled her. The soft tone of his reply didn't.
“I know,” he replied.
“I… I feel really bad. You’re always so good to me and I really… I really don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of it, much less you.”
“I’ll take a kiss as an apology.”
She rolled her eyes, because he obviously still wasn’t taking her completely seriously. But then she acquiesced and leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips.
Just as she began to pull back, however, his right hand cupped her jaw as the other landed on her shoulder. Then his mouth recaptured hers with a tender but insistent pressure. She immediately melted into it. He was warm and soft, and he tasted like… well he tasted a bit like beets, honestly, but also sweet in a way that was just Peeta . He pulled her bottom lip gently in between his teeth. She sighed into his mouth.
“Just so you know,” he murmured. “I wrote this week’s blog post this afternoon. And that was the last of the beets I bought.”
Katniss laughed, because it was either that or cry. She buried her face in the soft shoulder of his sweater, and she felt his answering smile against her hair as he pressed a kiss to her head.
“And for dessert there might be a plate of cheese buns waiting in the oven with some of that leftover prosciutto.”
Bread, cheese, and ham for dessert? Maybe she was going to have to reconsider Johanna’s advice… But that was for later. For now, Katniss wound her fingers tighter into his curls, hoping he would understand it to mean “I love you” just as his words were proxies for “I forgive you”.
And then, once they had finally pulled apart, she added in a whisper, “I love you, Peeta.”
Just to make sure.