Work Text:
The clock reads 2:34 and he should be asleep.
Easier said than done when he's used to curling around another person and said person is nowhere to be found.
At first he tries to simply turn around and go back to sleep, but the missing presence makes falling asleep impossible. Ten minutes in he sighs and gives up. He has to go look for her or he will toss and turn the rest of the night. And that's not beneficial when he has his first competition the next day. His day will start at six, Johanna Mason - speed champion of the Norwegian women's team, and a good friend of his - promised to help him out with a short downhill training run. He needs every minute of rest.
He slips into his clothes and has the foresight to check his phone.
Materials chamber. Go back to sleep if you read this. Will be back soon. Love you.
The message dates about an hour back.
Peeta smirks, grabs his heavy coat and sneaks out of the room. If his head coach finds him out of bed he will have his head, but he simply can't help it.
The Olympic Village is more or less deserted. Sporadically, he glimpses another person, but no one familiar crosses his path. By now he knows the way to and from their material chamber (which is actually more of a material hall ) in his sleep. In the last two weeks since he and his crew arrived here - together with 55 pairs of skis alone for him to work with - he must have walked it a hundred times.
The huge overhead lights are turned off. Only one of the smaller worktop lamps is illuminating the space.
Peeta steps into the doorway but stops short when he discovers that his girlfriend isn't the only person in the room and retreads again.
Henry Everdeen, head of the alpine service team, stands together with alpine head coach, Haymitch Abernathy, looking intently at the dark haired woman in front of them, who's their daughter and niece respectively. She's bend over a pair of skis and inspects them like an artist studies the Mona Lisa.
"You're certain?" Henry asks, and in the way he speaks Peeta can tell it's not the first time the question has slipped out.
"Absolutely," his daughter answers, her eyes still fixated on his skis while her palm carefully brushes over the waxy surface.
"If you're wrong about this, sweetheart, he'll lose tomorrow." It's Haymitch's turn to argue, his eyebrows knitted together.
Katniss leaps up, her silvery eyes throwing daggers at the two men in the semi darkness beside her. "Temperatures are below point zero. The wind constantly blows particles of powder snow on the track's ice, which makes the snow dry. But weather forecast says the sun will make sporadic appearances. Too much low-fluor and they will slow him in the gliding parts. You know I'm right about this!"
"But-"
"No 'buts'!" she interrupts her father gruffly. "This is my area! I know what I'm doing, I take responsibility for it!"
The two men stop their arguing and simply nod. Katniss turns back to the skis, inspecting them again.
Insiders in the ski circle call her the Whisperer . Peeta knows a huge part of his success is only thanks to her and the team behind him. Katniss Everdeen is a genius when it comes to preparation. She has a sixth sense or something similarly creepy when it comes to this. And Peeta's very thankful for that. You can be the best skier in the world, but when the equipment doesn't work you've got no chance to win.
Ten years ago, when Peeta had only just started in the A league of the alpine ski sport, the national ski association in cooperation with his material supplier introduced him to the father-daughter duo, among others to choose his team from. At that time still Assistant Coach Abernathy advised him to get them on his team. To this day Peeta remembers Haymitch's words: "This is my brother in law and my niece. I grew up with him and have known her since she plopped out of her mother. You won't find two more loyal and caring people in the world. Your team will be your family, boy. They will laugh with you, and celebrate with you and, yes, even cry with you. They will know you inside out. And love and loyalty will decide your success in the end."
Long hours spent together, meticulously working on the perfect quality, the preservation, the consistency, made Katniss and him grow closer. They became fast friends, constantly puzzling over new ways to improve and support his driving style with the material.
The year he first won the big Crystal Globe, the first overall title - his fourth year in the ski circuit - the whole team celebrated into the early hours of the morning. When it was time to finally call it a night, Peeta walked Katniss to her room and kissed her for the first time.
He wanted to leave it at that for the time being, but she had other ideas and dragged him into her room. Not even the apocalypse would have been able to make him reject her in that moment, he was head over heels in love with her.
The rest - as they say - is history.
Peeta won the World Cup every year since, expanded his trophy collection with World Championship medals in all colors, with several big Crystal Globes and quite a few small ones for slalom and giant slalom. He won Sportsman of the Year three times in a row and got a ton of sponsorship contracts. But only a single silver Olympic Medal.
He’s never been in better physical condition than now, even though training this summer ended with a broken ankle on day two. But he had the best team of doctors, therapists and trainers behind him, and they worked out another training schedule. With almost two months less of traditional ski training than his competitors Peeta returned to the world cup three events in - only to win his first race back and nearly every single one following.
"Go and pester Rye," Katniss' words to her father and uncle bring him back to the present. She carefully slips a brush over the surface of his ski. "He's still working on the boots. Peeta told him he needs more support at the ankle, and brother dearest is still trying to figure that one out."
Only at the last moment Peeta's able to hold back the snort, but the small smile curling around his lips is unstoppable. He knows his brother has figured out the minor problem with the boot a couple hours ago. They tested it together, and it never fitted better. He's sure everything Rye's working on now is the finishing touch. Katniss just wants to get rid of Henry and Haymitch.
The two men take the hint, wish her a good night and leave shortly after.
"You should be asleep."
Her voice vibrates through the stillness of the night. Not once does she stop her work on the ski.
"You, too. How long have you known I'm here?" Peeta replies, amused and finally steps into the material chamber.
"Please," she huffs, exchanging the brush for a bottle of powder. "I heard it when you stepped into the building. It was like a stampede entered. It's still a miracle how you can be so graceful on skis when off of them your footfalls can wake the dead."
"It's a gift, love," he winks and leans back against a worktable beside her, arms crossed in front of him.
"Or a curse," she deadpans, still focused on the equipment in front of her. One side of her mouth twitches slightly.
He can't hold back his laughter, effectively stopping their banter. For the first time she straightens up, now a smile gracing her features.
"Go back to sleep, Peeta. You need the rest. I will be done shortly, I promise," she implores him, her voice soft.
It's her pleading eyes that makes him give in. With a nod he pushes himself in a standing position. "Don't take too long, ok?" he can't help but say.
Katniss gives him another smile, leans in and kisses him quickly. Then she turns back to the skis and resumes her powder-brush-routine, immediately lost in the depths of her work again.
Peeta grins and leaves the material chamber. He's not sure if he'll fall asleep without her, but the warm feeling inside him will let him relax enough. Because once again he realized that him winning Olympic Gold isn't only his dream anymore.
And this clearly tops a sleepless night.
xXx
220 meters per run. 65 pairs of slalom poles. Steep incline between 33 and 45 percent. The poles stay horizontal or vertical to each other, allowing to either drive longer curves at a slower pace or quick swings at high speed.
The wind is a parameter today; gusts around 80 kilometers per hour constantly sweep over the hilltop and through the corridor where the flatter start goes into the steep slope.
Downhill this morning was a freezing hell. With temperatures sub-zero, gusts of strong wind and speeds over 120 kilometers per hour the windchill factor made the air feel like a cutting knife. He's a technical skier, the speed disciplines aren't his forte; nevertheless he had the run of his life, also thanks to the short training with Johanna this morning, placing 7th and giving him a nice advantage in the upcoming slalom run. Because that's where he dominates.
Haymitch is standing at the traverse into the steep slope; the crucial key point. How you master the course here decides about winning or losing. After every single one of the previous twenty-three racers he radioed the conditions and possible best approach to Finnick Odair, his assistant head coach, who stands beside Peeta now and waits with him to enter the starting gate.
All of this is circumstantial now. Fifteen seconds ago Norway's No. 1, Darius Joriusson, one of his biggest competitors, went into the race, but Peeta didn't even register that. He's visualising and recreating the course in his head, counting every pole, the distance between them, the long turns and quick transitions. He's in his own world, nothing can break his focus.
The track personnel radio the slope is clear. Darius crossed the finish line 56 hundredths ahead of the previous leader. Peeta doesn't know that; everything in him is concentrating on his upcoming run.
Racing Personnel give the go for his start. Time measurement is set to zero. Finnick screams encouragements to him. Peeta readjusts his goggles one last time, plants his ski poles into the snow, ensures once more he has a good grip to help him push out of the starting gate.
Everything fades to the background, every noise, every emotion. Peeta takes a last deep breath, flexes his muscles and jumps into the race.
45 seconds may define his fate.
xXx
He crosses the finishing line and his eyes immediately travel to the time screen.
Green.
His arms shoot up, he looks towards the sky and thanks every deity there is. He's in the lead.
He looks in the direction where the audience is going crazy. Up in the front and halfway to the right he spots a group of familiar people, banner raised and cheering loudly. A couple of friends and some members of his fan club. Madge and Gale Hawthorne at the center front, beaming at him, holding both thumbs up. They won their own Figure Skating Gold two days ago. He excitedly waves at them.
A moment later his skis are off and he steps into the viewing box of the current leader, shakes hands with Darius, who congratulates him and makes room. Members of his team hand him his jacket, hat and a bottle of water.
Peeta knows there's possibly only one more person who could endanger his win: Alexandre Cato. Everyone else is a speed expert, but the Frenchman is an allrounder. He competes in every discipline. Cato placed 5th at the downhill this morning.
Marvel Jakobs from Switzerland starts the race, and Peeta watches - admittedly, not really nervous yet - his progress on the screen. He knows Marvel's disciplines are Downhill and Super-G. When he crosses the finishing line the red 9 lights up.
Five more to go, and now it's Cato's turn.
"Rue," Peeta stops one of his service people. "Where's Katniss?"
The young woman points at the Service Sector behind them. "She's with your father and brothers at material check."
Ah yes, in case they used something illegal. The Olympic Committee has drastically tightened the rules on that. Katniss and his family would never leave this critical part to someone else.
"Get her here as soon as possible, please, okay?"
The girl smirks and nods knowingly.
The arena speaker catches his attention then. "And now Alexandre Cato starts the race." Peeta's eyes immediately focus on the screen in front of him.
29 hundredths is all the headstart Cato's got from the downhill run. But even 1 hundredth can be pivotal in the end.
First split: Alexandre is still 13 hundredths ahead.
Peeta starts to worry. Was his performance enough? Did the wind, which blew up so much snow he lost sight of the course for a couple moments, resulting in him only running on instinct and the mental image where the poles were placed, really make the difference? Would this mean " only" silver again?
Second split: Peeta’s heart leaps when the red '+0.14' pops up at the corner of the screen. Still, 14 hundredths isn't much.
For a second Peeta's eyes drift to the back of the area. How long does the stupid materials check take? A split moment later his focus is back on the race.
Cato is right before the last split. With a silent gasp he sees a moment later that it's shown in green. The last split time and the Frenchman is 18 hundredths in the lead again. Peeta's hand comes to rest halfway over his mouth, the other one crossed in front of him. Just to put it somewhere, tightly gripping his biceps.
The screen is not important anymore, he can see Cato himself now only a handful of poles away from the finish.
Three more poles. Two. One.
Peeta shuts his eyes tightly. Waits for the reaction from the audience.
Someone grabs him from the side, and by instinct he looks at the person. It's Rye. His lips form words, his face is full of excitement and joy. Finally Peeta registers what his brother is saying.
"He's behind! 23 hundredths, Peet! 23 fucking hundredths! "
The brothers hug tightly, Peeta not yet fully realizing what just happened. Over Rye's shoulder he sees Katniss hurrying away from the Service Sector in their direction. As the leader in the race he's not allowed to leave the viewing box, but sometimes Rye is actually pretty observant, and with a knowing smile he steps aside.
A second later Peeta has his arms full of the love of his life. Without a word exchanged she leans up at the same time he leans down and they kiss. Ignoring the cheering, the cameras, the people around them. Their hands frame each others faces, their fronts pressed together.
"You did it," she finally whispers against his lips when they come up for air.
" We did it!" he whispers back, his face nearly splitting in two from smiling so hard. Even Katniss, normally wearing a composed and stoic expression when in the public eye, can't stop beaming.
Cato steps up to the viewing box, smiling but visibly crestfallen, too; it would have been his first Gold Medal as well. Katniss steps away from Peeta to make room, wants to retreat into the background again. This should be his great moment. But Peeta wraps his left arm around her shoulder and keeps her beside him.
"Stay. This is your moment, too," he whispers, before he reaches out and takes Cato's offered hand. They shake, congratulate each other. The arena speaker announces the last three participants are about to enter the race, and the attention turns back to the actual race. The rest of the race is a mere formality, the leading guys from the downhill run have little to no experience in slalom.
Five minutes later it's official: Peeta Mellark had won his first Olympic Gold Medal. And he won it in a discipline he wasn't even sure he'd start in until he arrived at the Games. Now he can relax, look forward to the two more races he's going to participate in, and in both he's the dominating competitor.
He feels part of the pressure vanish. Even if he doesn't win anymore medals, this gold one will forever be that last obstacle he overcame.
xXx
After the flower ceremony, press conferences, meetings with sponsors - all in all heading from one appointment to the next - he somehow stands backstage and waits for the commentator to announce first place.
The moment the Olympic Gold Medal is put around his neck everything feels like a dream. When the national anthem plays he tears up, too overcome with emotion to even try to sing along.
Afterwards the team throws a party for him, but it's a relaxed affair. Everyone still has the upcoming races in mind. Yes, he won gold today, but that doesn't mean he can't strive for more.
For the better part of the evening Katniss and he are seperated. She has her obligations, too, after all.
A little past midnight he's finally able to call it a night. With a deep sigh he falls against the closed bedroom door. This day was exciting and exhausting in equal measure.
"Come to bed. You must be beat," a whisper reaches his ears, and with a soft smile he opens his eyes and sees her form between the sheets.
Five minutes later he's in his pyjamas and crawls into bed. Katniss scoots over, he wraps his arms around her. They intertwine their hands, his leg slips between hers; their movements in sync from years spent together.
For a couple moments they lie there in silence. It's Katniss who surprisingly breaks it. "You won Gold today," she whispers, he can hear the gleeful smile in her voice.
Peeta presses his lips under her ear. "There's only one more thing left to top this."
"Winning the other two gold medals?" she guesses, but feels him shaking his head. "Breaking Ingemar Stenmark’s all time record?" she tries again and turns around in his arms, now facing him. Again Peeta shakes his head.
Frowning she brushes some hair out of his eyes. "Babe, you’ve already reached every other goal there is."
Peeta chuckles and takes her face in his hands. "Last goal there is for me: To marry you. Have a family with you. Grow old together. Be happy. Everything else will just be a bonus."
Katniss' confusion melts away and pure love radiates off her. She chuckles and gives him a short peck.
"You're such a sap," she grins. "I already agreed to all of these things. I wear your ring, don't I?"
Peeta reaches out for the chain around her neck. Hidden under the collar of her shirt lies the delicate jewelry. When he asked her, she didn't even hesitate for a second to accept, but apologized immediately afterwards about not being able to wear it at work. She didn't want to destroy the beautiful ring by mistake, so they agreed she would wear it on a chain around her neck.
Somehow this turned into their precious little secret, silently agreeing they wouldn't tell anyone until the Games were over. This is a private matter between them, they don't need the publicity this would bring.
Until now.
"I want to make it official, Katniss," Peeta argues softly. "I want to tell people you're my fiancée. I want to brag, and strut around like a fucking peacock, and make everyone jealous with my breathtaking future wife."
She snorts once, but they don't say a word after that, simply look at each other. Her fingers brush through the hair at the back of his head, his thumb over her bottom lip.
Finally she leans in and kisses him. At first there's no hidden agenda behind the kiss, just an act out of love. A reassurance. A promise.
Although he's tired to the bones, Peeta feels lust rushing through him. His love for her is nearly overwhelming, and with a growl he deepens the kiss. Rolls her over so she lies underneath him, her legs automatically wrap around his hips.
"I'll allow it," Katniss whispers between kisses.
She leans in to press her lips against his again, but Peeta gives her a confused look. "What are you allowing, Katniss?"
She grins, wraps her arms around his neck and presses her center against his growing erection. He hisses, every muscle strained from trying to hold back to wait for her answer.
She pulls his face down to hers and whispers against his lips, "Everything, Peeta. I'll allow everything. The making it official, the bragging, the strutting around. Everything ." Katniss kisses him then; no holding back now. It's the dirty kind of kiss; with a lot of tongue and teeth; with moans and growls in between. Once more she stops, and with a mischievous grin commands, "Can you please fuck me now, golden boy?"
Peeta chuckles and obliges.
He won Olympic Gold today. He can make history if he repeats today's success. He will forever be known as one of the greatest alpine skiers of all times.
But still, being with Katniss trumps everything else.
FINE