Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He doesn’t belong down there.

The thought runs through Katniss’ mind once again. This time it was the end of day whistle echoing in the distance.

Each trigger ringing louder than the last.

Passing a group of men with dark hair and slumped shoulders. Their scuffed lunch pails in hand.

When she scurried past the bakery, full game bag at her side.

But the first was as she was ducking under the fence, the sun just beginning to change the night sky. The whispered thought came from a dandelion’s yellow flower.

He doesn’t belong down there.

“Hey Sweetheart, give me a hand would ya?”

Haymitch struggles to lift a keg onto the counter. She jumps to his side and helps hoist it up.

“Where is your head at today?” His gruff question isn’t exactly unkind. If anything, the hint of genuine concern is more alarming than his typical jabs.

“Just tired.” It’s not a lie. Well, maybe the ‘just’ part.

Haymitch raises his eyebrow and grunts. Dragging his bum leg as he limps towards the waiting customer. 

“Out with it. Who’s the boy? I know it ain’t Hawthorne.” Ripper calls across the narrow space between their bar and her booth.

Katniss wonders how much of her own wares the older woman has been sampling throughout the day.

Perched on his usual barstool, Darius leans forward. “I’ve already told you, Everdeen. It would never work between us.”

Her glare doesn’t faze either of the two busybodies. Fortunately, Haymitch is in his own foul mood. He points at his business rival, “Maybe you should focus on your own customers instead of my barkeep’s love life.” 

Katniss cringes at his reference to her supposed love life.

“And you.” He now points at the red-haired peacekeeper. “Drinks cost double for flirts.”

“Worth it.” Darius takes a slow slurp of his beer. 

“Triple.” Haymitch is not playing any games today.

Darius fidgets his lips back and forth before blowing out a sharp puff of air. “Sorry, Everdeen. Too rich for my wallet.”

She and Haymitch share a nod. He’s the closest thing she’s had to a father figure these last seven years. The same explosion that gifted him that limp, stole her father’s life.

Her mother managed to keep it together long enough to treat the sole survivor from her dead husband’s crew.

Unable to return to work in the mines with his injuries, Haymitch survived the winter on the beer brews he’d been experimenting with that summer. Not drinking them, though he did and still does plenty of that. But setting up a stand at the Hob to sell his concoctions by the glass.

By late spring, whenever he had a few coins or grain to spare, he would drop off supplies at the Everdeen’s door. Payment not only for the healer, but for the friend who saved his life underground.

He started bringing the food inside when it became too hard to hide just how lost their mother was in her grief.

Katniss will never forget the day he stormed in, demanding to know where they keep the kettle. Every morning and night for a month, Haymitch diligently stirred a pinch of powder into their mother’s tea cup. Whatever mixture was in that apothecary pouch brought her back to them, one sip at a time.   

He was almost too late. Maybe he would have been if it hadn’t been for Peeta. The boy who took a beating to throw a starving girl burnt bread. 

The glass she’s been polishing is the cleanest one in the entire district.

She’s not sure why the idea that Peeta could end up anywhere other than town had never crossed her mind until a few days ago.

It’s rare, though not unheard of.

Most merchants only have two children. But if there is a third, especially too many sons, the mines are always an option. Or a threat.

Still, on the morning of graduation, when he’d congratulated her and slipped a hidden cookie into the bread bag. The news that it would be their last trade, since he’d be in the mines on Monday, had knocked the wind out of her.

His ‘guess I’ll see around’ and warm smile had done nothing to comfort her.

His deep laugh alerts her to his presence. It was hard to miss across the school yard and now seems to reverberate off the Hob’s metal walls.

The dusting of coal doesn’t stop his blonde hair from setting him apart from the rest of the group. All chatting and laughing at whatever he’s saying. Thom pats him on the back. Of course, he’s already fast friends with his entire crew. His entire crew, except maybe the one glowering in the back.

Gale breaks off from the rest of the miners and heads straight towards her.

“Hey Catnip, how were the lines this morning?” He greets her the same way he always does here. The routine began her first shift at Haymitch’s bar, after her 17th birthday. 

“Decent. Rory wanted to keep a fat hare but I made him trade it for coins from Darius,” Darius waves at Katniss’ mention of his name. “and I told him to keep a gristly possum instead.”

Gale nods. “Good. He needs to work on his valuations.” 

She wipes her rag across the counter. “Did everything go okay in the mines? Anything new?”

There is a pause before Gale answers. “You never ask about the mines.” 

“I’m making conversation.” The counter is really dirty today. 

Ripper leans to the side, the tall grumpy miner is clearly blocking her view. 

“Just got an ex merchant assigned to my crew that I have to babysit.” Gale grumbles. 

Katniss lowers her voice to avoid the extra ears. “But you’re watching him, making sure he’s safe?”

“Yea, that’s my job as Foreman. Making sure his mistakes don’t get any of my guys killed. Why?” His retort has an air of accusation she doesn’t like. 

“I’m making conversation.” She makes a mental note to remind him of today, the next time he complains they only ever talk about hunting.

“You said that.” Folding his arms over his chest, Gale clicks his jaw. “I’m heading home.”

He never stays long. If anything, he’s stayed a few more minutes with her extra questioning. 

Katniss keeps working on the spotless counter. “Okay. Tell Rory not to be late again tomorrow.” 

Gale groans his goodbye. They’ve been teaching Rory for over a year now, but without the threat of starvation, getting the 14 year old boy out of bed before dawn has proven to be the most challenging lesson. 

Her eyes find Peeta once again. Still across the Hob. Chatting with Greasy Sae, a bowl of today’s stew already in his hands. 

Sae laughs and reaches across her counter, giving him a pinch on the cheek. Looks like he’s won her over before he’s even finished his first meal of mystery meat soup.

Peeta grins at the old woman but then he turns enough to catch Katniss watching him. 

She flits her gaze away too late. 

Busying herself with the glassware doesn't speed up the couple of minutes he takes. 

“Hi.” Peeta stands in front of her. His lopsided grin only accentuates the smear of coal dust on his cheek. “Fancy running into you here.” 

“Can I help you?” Katniss taps her fingers on the bar. The indifference in her tone is betrayed by her body’s inability to hold still. 

His smile falls and she misses it instantly. “Are you mad at me?”

Yes. 

This isn’t where they talk. They talk during trades. On the steps of a back porch. Nothing needed to change. Whatever shop he ended up running, she would have brought her squirrels every morning. He’d tell her a quick story, she’d laugh and share an anecdote of her own. Then she’d carry on with the drudgery of her day. 

He’s the one who made rash, life-altering decisions. 

Now he wants to chat with her, as if he wasn’t underground when he should have been handing her bread. Saying ‘hi’ in the Hob, a place he’s never set a foot in before. At the rundown, shady bar she attempts to keep clean. 

The way his blue eyes implore for her answer, dissipates the bulk of her anger. Her words come out after a deep inhale. “You don’t belong down there, Peeta.” 

“Don’t belong.” He utters the phrase like he’s tasting the words on his tongue. “Well, as the third unwanted son, I never really belonged in the bakery either. Maybe I—-“

“You belong in town!” Her arm flails in the general direction of where he should be. 

Peeta lifts his chin. “It’s not like I had much choice.”

“I'm sure the butcher shop would disagree with that.” 

Peeta never told her he refused a betrothal agreement with Rooba’s perfectly pleasant daughter. She had to learn about it from Madge in hushed whispers during their graduation ceremony. 

If he’s surprised she knows about the rejected betrothal, he doesn’t show it. “Okay, you’re right. For the most part I’ve made my choice. And the mines are it.”

“It’s too dangerous down there!” She recoils realizing how loud she said that. Everyone here knows first hand just how true those words can be.  

He flinched at her outburst but now his eyebrows squeeze together, and a ghost of a smile mixes with the confusion.  “Are….are you worried about me?”

Yes. 

Her silence doesn’t deter him. “I was placed on Gale’s crew. You of all people, know the kind of leader he is. And how seriously he takes the safety rules.”

She, ‘of all people’, has no idea what Gale is like in the mines. Katniss only has the woods to go on. And she wouldn't describe him as cautious out there. “He’s also the youngest foreman. Maybe you should be learning from someone with more experience.”

Peeta shrugs. “My dad always burned himself more than any of his sons. Familiarity can lead to complacency——“

“You gonna keep ogling the goods or are you gonna buy something, Boy?” Haymitch’s gruff voice interrupts. 

She turns to find not only Haymitch, but the entire row of regulars watching her. Darius’ especially wide grin is unsettling.

Peeta slides down a coin. Haymitch fills a glass and slides it down the bar. 

“Hey, you told me no more sliders.” The redhead peacekeeper gripes. 

Peeta takes a slow sip. 

His nose crinkles as he looks down at the foaming amber liquid. “My dad calls this liquid bread. So I guess you’re more of a baker now than me.” 

“It’s nothing like baking.” Katniss mutters. The boy with the bread calling her a baker is the most ridiculous thing she’s heard across this bar. And he’s not even drunk. 

His eyes don’t leave her face as he takes another long sip. 

Katniss is the first to look away. “Where are you staying?” Single men don’t have that many options in the Seam. 

“Oh, Rye and Delly are letting me stay at their place. In town.” Peeta laughs and wipes the foam off his lip. “But I’m definitely cramping their newly wed bliss, so I was going to hang out here....just, in the hob, for a while. I’m on the list for a bed in the bunkhouse but there’s a backlog. Should get one after toasting season.”

They both stare too long this time. 

“Could use some help, Sweetheart.”

Haymitch gestures to all the full chairs with no drinks. It seems orders have stopped because they’re too busy enjoying the show. Even the Goat man looks slightly amused. 

Peeta’s hand goes to the back of his neck. “Sorry to keep you. Have a goodnight.”

Darius scrapes the empty barstool next to him across the floor. “You haven’t even finished your beer. Take a seat. She might, but the rest of us don’t bite.”

To her chagrin, Peeta accepts the chair without hesitation. 

She and Haymitch swap places, so she doesn’t have to keep serving the distractions. Peeta nurses his one drink while the rogue peacekeeper regales him with stories of District 2. The same ones everyone else at the bar have already heard a dozen times.  

His easy laugh only encouraging Darius’ embellishments. 

When his glass is finally empty, Peeta gives her a small nod before standing to wander the Hob. She watches as he introduces himself to each stand’s keep. Offering a charming smile and a dusty handshake.  

She’d spent the morning imagining him looking lost. His wide eyes taking in the new surrounding with the foreboding they deserve. 

He doesn’t look lost at all. He looks as comfortable as she’s ever seen him. Maybe he could make himself fit in anywhere.

Their eyes meet. The corner of his mouth lifts up. Her own mouth does the same. 

Peeta walks out of the Hob and turns towards town.

Chapter Text

The last slice of fruit and nut bread rattles in his lunch pail. All that’s left of his father’s parting gift. The heavy loaf held an empty apology after informing him that sleeping at the bakery for a few more weeks would not be an option. 

When he reaches the fork in the road between town and the Seam, he joins the ranks shuffling towards the mine. Spirits feel high for the last work day of the week. 

He spots a bunch of his crew ahead and jogs to catch up. 

“Hey Mellark!” Thom greets him warmly.

Gale’s easy smile falls immediately at the sound of his name. “How’s your head?” 

“Fine.” Peeta’s hand runs through his hair. Gale’s abrupt question reminding him that smacking into the low spot in the mine can still hurt even with a helmet on.

There’s an uneasy hush throughout the group as they follow Gale’s slowed pace. “Hangovers are a good way to make mistakes. Heard you were at the bar for hours last night.”

Peeta glances around wondering which among them is reporting his hob habits to Gale. Huckle was on the other end of the bar most of the night himself. “I was at the bar, but I didn’t drink.”

Gale steps directly in front of Peeta. Stopping him in his tracks as the rest of the crew mosey around them. “Don’t lie to me, Mellark. I know Abernathy doesn’t let people linger without lining his pockets. As your foreman, I need to know when I’ve got a liability on the team.”

A liability. The familiar insult stings more than Gale should know. 

Peeta steadies his voice. “You can ask Haymitch yourself. He told me I was welcome to stay, and I’ve been out of coins for two days.” The pay he’ll receive at the end of today’s shift will be the most money he’s ever had to his name. 

There’s a subtle twitch from Gale’s left eye. He stares down at Peeta before giving a curt nod and striding off towards the mine. 

It’s going to be a long day. 

His shoulders burn as he shovels another scoop of coal onto the conveyor belt. Peeta’s been tasked with the job all week. Not that any of the jobs down here are easy, but no one else has been on the shovel for more than one day in a row. Maybe he should have tried harder to befriend the guy now assigning duties. At least attempted some cordial conversation during their terse Sunday trades. 

Gale directs those on ceiling supports, as Thom controls the digger at the tunnel's end. Huckle dumps a careless shovelful onto the belt, kicking excess dust up into Peeta’s face. 

He doesn’t mind the dark. The coal dust isn’t terrible with the protective gear on. Though he’s been surprised how many choose not to wear it. The cool temperatures are a welcome relief from the constant heat of the bakery. 

Another Huck shovelful lands annoyingly close to Peeta. 

The hostility from a select few has been disappointing. Work day hostility he had hoped he was leaving behind. But most of the miners have been welcoming. As long as he pulls his weight, they don’t treat him any differently. 

Peeta rips off his respirator. “Shut it off!”

Thom immediately flips the emergency kill switch. The excavator sputters as the engine slows to a stop.

“What are you doing?” Gale’s bark is just as gruff as it’s been all day. 

“Methane pocket.” 

The crew grumbles and a few reach into their pockets. 

Gale steps closer. His headlamp shining directly into Peeta’s face. “Let me see it.” 

Peeta holds up his detector showing the odorless danger in the air. Any spark could ignite an explosion at this mixture ratio. 

An isolated methane explosion isn’t the biggest problem, it’s the stirred up coal dust those explosions can ignite that can wipe out an entire crew. 

Each miner is issued the personal detectors. They are required to test with the manual device every 10 minutes whenever actively digging. 

Like the haphazardly used respirators, Peeta hasn’t seen much consistency with the gas detectors either. 

Gale shines his light over to the silent alarm hanging on the front of the train cart. “Why isn’t it sounding?” 

Peeta lifts it up and carries it closer to the tunnel’s end. It lets out one shriek before going silent again. The alarm looks like it’s seen better days. And those days could have been a decade ago. 

Gale radios for the vent team and leads the crew up the mine shaft. Everything stops for the hour while the tunnel is cleared. 

The chatter revolves around how necessary this venting really is. Huckle makes an off hand remark that his head is the best detector they’ve got. “If I ain’t dizzy, run the diggy.” 

Peeta busies himself with cleaning up the main alarm. The filter is clogged with dust. Even the enclosed battery compartment has a black layering of the stuff. The rubber gasket is loose inside. 

He can feel Gale’s eyes occasionally watching him but he’s confident enough in what he’s doing. He’s been preparing for life in the mines ever since he understood why those with blonde hair only seem to marry each other. Why the exceptions are so notable.  

There isn’t a mining book in the school building he hasn’t read. The coal instructor probably hated him with how often he’d pepper him with questions. Questions others could ask a father or an older sibling. 

“All set. Good stop call, Hawthorne.” The head supervisor pats Gale on the back before returning to his buggy. “Remember you’ll still need to make quota.” He calls out from the driver’s seat.

There is a collective groan from the crew with a few glares cast in Peeta’s direction. The risk was outside guidelines. But his books didn’t teach him what level of risk his crewmates would be willing to endure to avoid an extra hour tacked onto their shift. 

Gale addresses the disgruntled crew. “Alright let’s get to work. Thom I need you to take over for Mellark.” He turns to Peeta. “You’re shadowing me on the digger.”

Everyone else returns to their earlier posts and Gale pulls Peeta to the side. “You did a good job, Mellark. But there is an order of command for a reason.” The malice from this morning is completely absent in Gale’s tone. “Tell me and I’ll make the call. You’ll make more friends that way.” 

Gale points to the respirator around Peeta’s neck before securing his own back in place. 

He’s late. 

They’re all late. Not one person on the crew has come into the hob. She’d been useless at the bar once an hour passed after the end of day whistle. Haymitch sent her over to Sae’s. One of the last bowls of the day sits cold and barely touched in front of her. 

There haven’t been any sirens. None of the other miners are acting like anything is amiss. Surely someone would have told her something by now. 

Katniss lifts another spoonful and slowly pours it back into the bowl. 

“Why are you over here, Catnip?” Gale’s voice startles her. The coal dust smeared across his face from a haphazard effort to wash it. 

Katniss jumps up from her chair. She gives him a hug but quickly let’s go before he can return it. “Why are you so late?” 

“Took extra time to meet quota.” Gale puzzles at her a moment. Like he’s waiting for something. His eyes narrow when he asks,  “How were the lines?” 

“Fine.” She looks around him. A few more from the crew are filing in. They look exhausted.

“Peeta’s fine too.”

The muscles across her shoulders relax. She hadn’t realized how tight she’d been holding them. “Okay.” 

“We need to talk.” 

“Now?” Katniss tries to refocus on her hunting partner but she can’t stop checking the doorway. “Is it important or can it wait ‘til Sunday?” Peeta finally comes into the Hob. Her lungs feel like they can fully fill for the first time in the last hour. 

His hands are stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders slumped. She knew this would happen if he stayed down there. His light is fading. 

There’s a long pause before Gale speaks again. “Yea, Sunday.” He brushes past her, walking away. “What’s one more day?”

Peeta looks across the hob, confusion etching his features until his eyes land on her. He straightens as he approaches but he can’t hide what she’s already recognized. His smile too subdued, his ‘hi’ too quiet. 

She searches his face for the signs she feared. But his smile, however tired, is almost the same one he always gave her before. “Are you okay?”

The question lingers in the air longer than it should. Her concern draws something into his gaze she can’t name. “Yes, just a long day.” 

Katniss pulls out her chair for him to sit. Gesturing to the full bowl of soup on the counter. “Sae’s out but you can have mine, I only took a few bites.”

She hasn’t seen him eat the last two nights. She can only hope he had a portion of the squirrels from her generous trade to the cobblers yesterday morning. 

He doesn’t move so she sits down in the seat beside the one she’s offering. “Please. Take it. I’ll get something back at the house. Sorry, it’s kind of cold---” 

“No one’s eating cold stew at my stand.” Greasy Sae takes the bowl, dumping the contents back into her caldron. She pokes at the fading embers below. 

Peeta sinks down into the chair. His leg brushes against her own before he adjusts it away. “I can’t eat your dinner.” 

Of all people to refuse food from her. “Put it towards my bread debt.”

“You’re really still talking about that, huh? I thought you agreed to let that go.” Peeta arches a brow, the upturn at the corner of his lips undercuts his playful attempt to scold her. “Let’s see, a rabbit, two squirrels, burn cream, a set of authentic forest paints, and now a bowl of soup. I’m pretty sure I received the best trade the bakery ever made at the rabbit.”

She smiles at the familiar conversation. “Maybe you shouldn’t have kept slipping extras into my bag. And you forgot the paint refills.”

“No, I didn’t. You agreed that wasn’t for the bread.”

Katniss thinks for a moment. “Oh, right. That was your birthday present.” She bumps their knees together. “And it had nothing to do with the cupcake you snuck to Prim.”

Sae places the steaming bowl back down in front of Peeta. Katniss would swear the old woman winks at her. 

Peeta thanks both her and Sae before digging into the meal. “So now that I’m Seam too, do we still have to think of everything as a trade.”

“Yes, that’s part of being Seam.” 

Peeta takes a loud slurp off his spoon. “Then I'm going to trade you something for this soup.”

Katniss sighs. “Alright, not everything.”

He beams at her like he’s won some secret victory. Something catches his attention over his shoulder. “Why aren’t you at the bar?”

Because you were late. 

She looks at what’s caught his eye. Half of the bar’s patrons are turned around facing this direction. Darius waves from his place behind the bar, pouring a beer straight into the bottom of a glass. 

“I wasn’t much help so Haymitch gave me the night off. He’s doing his ‘barkeep for two free drinks’ special.” Haymitch starts fussing at the peacekeeper turned temp barkeep, she can almost hear his improper foam lecture. 

She and Peeta both turn back around. Their audience’s eyes and unasked questions hanging awkwardly between them. 

Katniss flicks at some imaginary dust. “What happened today? In the mine?”

Peeta freezes a beat. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before answering. “We had to stop for a while as a precaution. Hit a gas pocket.” 

“Oh.” A gas pocket. Stated with the same casual air one might discuss a snow flurry. 

Once her breathing evens out, she says, “Maybe you could still accept the betrothal.”

“Katniss,” He says her name with a strange combination of exasperated patience. He drops the spoon into the already empty bowl and turns to fully face her. “that isn’t exactly how things work in town. There were at least two other families vying for the butcher shop. The only reason they held out on me as long as they did is because my parents kept them in bread. But even if I could. Even if I could go crawling back, I wouldn’t. I like where I’m at.” 

Nobody likes the mines. “It’s been one week! And you’re already running into trouble.” 

“No, we followed the standard procedure and everything was fine. Half the crew didn’t think it was even bad enough to stop for.” Peeta’s retort is infuriatingly calm. 

She’s ready to argue when Sae walks up to take the empty bowl. “Honey, why don’t you show this nice young man around his new stomping grounds? I’d take him to the meadow myself but I think he’d prefer your company.”

“Sae.” Katniss hushes through her teeth. 

Peeta laughs. “I’d love to go to the meadow, and you’d certainly be welcome to join us Ms. Sae. It’s especially beautiful out there this time of year.”

“When have you been in the meadow?” Katniss asks. The meadow is on the far end of the Seam. Most merchants stick to the small oak grove on their side of the district. 

“I used to go there to paint if I could get away from the bakery.” He leans in as if to share a secret. “You know, I get more time off working in the mines. Never had a full day before.” 

He leans in a fraction more. “It’s also the first year I won’t be working during the Harvest Festival.”

Sae chuckles, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Katniss and Peeta. 

“Maybe we could talk alone in the meadow for a bit.” Katniss shoots Sae a look. “Did you want to get your paints first?”

“They’re….” Peeta rubs the back of his neck. “I wasn’t allowed to pack. My mother had a bag by the door after graduation. I should have known but I’d thought my dad would at least…. ” 

Katniss’ blood is boiling. She can replace the paints, though it will take her some time. But what about Peeta’s other things that were missing from that bag. “Wait here.” She tells him before rushing over to the stand that will have what she wants. 

The trinket booth keeper thankfully keeps the haggling to a minimum. 

She rushes back to him holding out an old pad of paper and a single piece of charcoal. “I’ll make you more paints but at least for now….” Her anger fades to doubt as Peeta gapes up at her.  “...so you’ll have something for your day off.”

She glances back towards the bar. The thumbs ups from the Goat man and the wide smiles from the other onlookers only ignite her nerves further. “Peeta, did you still want to go to the meadow?” 

Sae nudges Peeta in the back. 

He stands and clears his throat. “Thank you, Katniss.” Peeta slowly takes the gift in one hand and her hand in the other. All the times they accidentally touched during trades, the small jolt she’d feel whenever it happened, is nothing compared to the sensation of his warm, steady hand enveloping her own. 

The boldness Sae and his mother’s actions provoked has disappeared. Peeta takes the lead and they walk silently in the fading daylight. 

He’s practically buzzing when they reach the field of blooming wildflowers and tall grass. “Can I sketch you?”

She’s surprised by his request but nods a ‘yes’. 

Peeta starts pacing them in circles, checking both the sky and the ground. It reminds her of Buttercup deciding on the best couch cushion. When she’s standing where he seems to want, he releases her hand. “Just sit like you normally would. However you’re most comfortable.” 

Katniss tries to sit naturally, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

Peeta drops down and sits cross legged in front of her. The paper pad in his lap. “How was your day?”

She tells him about her late hunt with Rory. The first batch of summer strawberries. Trade rounds. The brew batch she saved from Haymitch’s sugar and salt mix up. 

He glides the charcoal across his paper. His arm flexing with each sure stroke. The growing moonlight highlighting his pale long eyelashes every time he looks down. But it also highlights the contrast of the coal smudges against his fair skin. 

Neither of them seem to mind the comfortable silence when she runs out of stories. She finds herself mesmerized watching him work.  

“For you.” He flips over the sketch revealing a beautiful girl. She looks almost ethereal in her throne of grass. Backdropped by the moon with flowers weaved down through her dark braid.

Katniss gingerly accepts his outstretched gift. She’s seen his talent before. A few of the paintings he created with her supplies. But she’s never seen herself as his subject matter. “It’s stunning, Peeta. Thank you.” She doesn’t recognize her own breathy voice. 

Peeta looks like he’s about to say something but simply gives her a shy smile instead. 

They wander to the meadow’s edge. She looks over every inch of detail in his drawing. Resisting the temptation to run her fingers over the black lines for fear of ruining the perfection. 

“Can I walk you home?”

His soft question brings her out of her reverie. “No...umm.. that’s okay.” 

“Okay.” If he’s disappointed in her answer, his lopsided grin doesn’t show it. “See you tomorrow, Katniss.” 

“Goodnight, Peeta.”

Neither moves. 

His eyes dance across her face. 

She forces her body to cooperate and walk her home.

Chapter Text

The bashful smiles on each of their faces are nauseating. Hand in hand as they wander out of the Hob. 

Peeta’s especially will be burned into his memory. You don’t forget the face who crushed your last hope. 

Ripper pulls a chart out from behind her counter. “Alright, who had hand-holding by week’s end?”

“You’re betting on them?” Gale tries to snatch the chart but Ripper is too quick. 

She smirks, “Dry spell for entertainment around here.” 

He looks up and down the grid. “Huckle, you have them toasting by the harvest festival??” 

A coin purse flies at Haymitch. Catching it, he bounces it in his hand checking the weight before tucking it into his pocket. 

Gale shakes his head in disgust, “No wonder Peeta’s been getting a free seat over here. Thought you’d have put a stop to this.”

What happened to ‘Sweetheart is family’? 

“There are worse games to play. If they’re all so interested in those two’s drama,” Haymitch taps his jingling pocket, “then the Booking fees are going towards Sweetheart and Bread boy’s toasting fund.” 

“I miss all the good stuff. I want in.” Great. A second member of his crew is wasting his money on this. 

“Thom, really---” Another coin purse flies in front of his face.

Darius grins, surveying his prize. “Hey, Grumple, have a beer on me. Looks like I’ll be making some of my money back from your back of the hand fiasco last year.”

Gale winces at the peacekeeper’s reference to his blocked kiss heard round the District. 

Last Harvest festival when he was left standing humiliated and alone among the dancing couples. Their first (and last) official date as more than friends. 

He doesn’t count the few Sundays they spent hunting while they were supposedly a couple. Maybe he could count the one when he brought a picnic. Though the peck of a kiss they shared during that lunch really should have been his first clue.  

Or maybe before that. His confession that his feelings had turned into something more wasn’t exactly met with open arm passion either. Only an agreement that they made sense together and could give it a try. 

Ripper’s laugh could be described as a cackle. “Y’all were so convinced you had a sure bet, think I’m still spending some of my winnings.”

Groans and grumbles sound around the bar. 

Gale plunks down in a seat. “Serves you right. Quit gambling on your couple of the month.” 

He didn’t mind their friendly wagers so much when the odds were being bet in his favor. 

Darius sets a drink down in front of him. “You might want to start getting used to the idea of that particular couple of the month.” He sounds almost concerned before his jovial demeanor snaps back. “Care to make any bets yourself? Harvest Festival predictions?” 

Gale stares down the peacekeeper while taking a long sip.

He does have a prediction. 

When the music slows and Peeta closes his eyes to lean in for a kiss, he’ll be met with soft lips instead of her hand clamped over her mouth. 

Her eyes won’t dart back and forth between him and the bakery stand, before she bolts away with a fumbled apology. 

The whole district will know that she’s his. That wrapped in his arms is where she belongs. 

Gale sets the mug down with a thud. “I predict they both walk home alone tonight.”

Darius grins, “Wanna bet?”

“Where’s Rory?” Katniss cranes her neck to search behind Gale. His silent approach and sudden grunt had startled her up from their meeting rock. 

He stands straight with his arms folded. “I let him sleep in.” 

It’s been a long time since they haven’t had Rory as a buffer between them. The constant buzz of tension is especially loud when they’re alone. 

Katniss scoops up her game bag. “Oh. Are you ready then?” 

Her hunting partner doesn’t move from his spot. “Are you?”

She freezes. There’s a trap in his tone. She stands to her full height which only slightly alleviates the feeling that he’s towering over her. “Say what you want to say, Gale.” 

A distant turkey’s call holds both of their attention for a moment before Gale finally speaks. “It’s one thing to be rejected, it’s another to be dragged along and lied to.” His lip curls. “You told me there wasn’t someone else."

The words smack her across the face. “There wasn’t—“ 

“So our proximity to the bakery stand had nothing to do with what happened at the Harvest festival?” He cuts her off and takes a step forward. 

Her eyes squeeze shut. The blue ones that flitted away so many times at school, had locked with her own during that song. The same song he’d told her the birds fell silent to hear a girl with two braids sing.

She wanted to fly away from them both the moment Gale leaned in to kiss her.

Katniss takes a deep breath. “I told you I wasn’t ready.”

“Please answer the question. Was Peeta the reason you ran that day?” He asks like her answer would be pointless. 

“It wasn’t…. isn’t like that! We talked during trades. He …. I never expected him to end up in the mines.” 

He’s the boy with the bread. 

Gale’s piercing steel eyes seem to see right through her. “You should have told me. Maybe I could have moved on by now. All this time I’ve been waiting for you—”

“Told you what?” She swings her bow between them. “I wasn’t ready! I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready!”

“Not with me.” His shoulders slump as he uncrosses his arms. “I’ve been late before. You’ve never acted the way you did last night.”

“That’s not true. Ask Haymitch what I was like when the sirens went off last winter.”

“And what will you do if the sirens go off while he’s down there?”

She thinks she’s going to be sick. Just the thought sours all the breakfast in her stomach. 

“Exactly.”

“Gale, —“

“Stop.” He holds up his hands. “I’ll get over it. Just give me some time.” 

Maybe this is what they needed, to finally get back to what they had before he asked for her to be something more. She’s missed the ease they once shared. 

But her graduation and what the future held seemed to hang over their every interaction. Always ready to make a case why her fears are irrational. 

Life will always have the risk of loss. 

She worries her lip between her teeth. “You won’t take this out on Peeta in the mine?? He’s already exhausted.”

Gale’s eyes roll at her concern. “The guy is like an ox, never seen someone stay on the shovel that long without complaint. And I’d never put anyone in jeopardy down there, let alone someone you obviously care about.”

He looks off in the distance. “Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard if he were easier to hate.” He puffs out a quick sigh. “Did you atleast let him walk you home last night?”

“No.” She scoffs. “Because like I told you I’m not ready.”

Gale lets out a humorless laugh. “But for him it will be worth it. It will be worth the risk.”

“He was supposed to stay in town!”

“Well, he didn’t.”

“I was starting to wonder when you’d show up around here.” The tall blonde leans against the door frame. It’s almost familiar but the air of arrogance sets him apart from his sweet brother. 

“Your timing couldn’t be better. You know the butcher’s closed today. Celebrating their daughter's betrothal.”  He points at her full bag between his ramblings. “So I’ve got plenty of wiggle room to trade for something a bit bigger.”

She holds out the scrawny squirrel in her hand. 

His eyebrow quirks up. “Maybe if either of my brothers had any sense we’d have a steak in the butcher shop.”

...

“It’s a pun.”

“Well it’s a bad one.” She speaks her first words. 

His chuckle grates on her nerves. “I’ve got some bad news for you if you don’t like bad puns.”

“His are actually funny.” She shakes the squirrel at him. “Today all you’re getting is one squirrel in exchange for all of Peeta’s belongings.” 

Bran’s smile stretches across his face. “Maybe he wasn’t a complete fool after all. You’re like a discount butcher, apothecary, and liquid bakery all rolled into one. And he’s already got you fetching his things for him.”

“Beer isn’t like baking! Why do you….” Her arm drops to her side. Her patience for the bakery was already razor thin before the morning's events with Gale. “I don’t have to trade here. You can pay full coin at your friendly neighborhood butcher shop.”

“Nowhere else to get bread is there?” He leans down and speaks with a threatening hush. “Unless a new bakery opened up somewhere that I need to let the peacekeepers know about.” 

Yes, the monopoly laws that allow the merchants to have the only legitimate businesses in the district.  She always has to tread carefully with the Butchers. Offering them the prime cuts first. Her traded game in town only ever minimally dressed. Some merchants will take their trades to the butcher's to be trimmed out for a fee. 'Something of something, is better than nothing of nothing', Rooba would say about the arrangement. 

Funnily enough Haymitch had the bar officially certified. None of the merchants had been fast thinking enough when the prohibition on alcohol was lifted. Mrs. Mellark was particularly vocal about her bitterness at the missed opportunity. 

Katniss lowers her voice to a threatening hush of her own. “I can live without bread.”

“Who would want to though?” Bran wanders away leaving the door wide open.  The smell of fresh bread wafts out. She resists the urge to close her eyes as she inhales the scent of yeast and sugar. 

He returns with a medium sized box and sets it down in the doorway. The edge of a canvas peaks out. 

Her mother never speaks much about her merchant days but she still treasures the few things she was able to bring to the Seam. And even her box would need to be bigger than this. “Where’s the rest?”

“That’s everything.” 

She sets her jaw. “You know he’ll tell me if something is missing.” 

Bran returns to his earlier lean. “We’re getting off on a bad foot. I’m not the enemy. I’m but a humble baker. An eldest son dutifully carrying on his family legacy. And it’s not my fault the baby chose to graduate without a contract.”

He adds a hand flourish. “I didn’t create the game. I just played by the rules. And Peeta refused. There are natural consequences to leaving town.” He exaggerates tapping his chin in contemplation. “The part I don’t get is why you’re pissed about it.”

“There aren’t any rules that you had to kick him out or not allow him to pack.”

His voice finally hints at a level of sincerity. “That wasn’t me. Do you think I own this place? That I’m the only merchant with living parents and a deed?”

“Are you going to give me his stuff or not?” Katniss holds up the squirrel again. “This is all you’re getting for it or I’ll never trade here again. And neither will the Hawthorne’s.” She’d expected to have Gale here for this part. Or at least Rory. 

“Now why would Gale agree to that?” And he’s back to arrogant. 

“Because I’ll tell him not to trade here.”

“Again, why would he agree to that?”

Katniss wishes her bow was allowed inside the fence. “Peeta’s on his mine crew and miners have each other’s backs.”

Bran’s laugh hurts her ears. “They’re on the same crew?? If that’s true, it’s hilarious.” He snorts between his chortling. “Oh going to be real fun, real fast.”

“I’m glad you’re so entertained.”

“Look,” He wipes away a tear that leaked out, “I’ll take your indignation squirrel, but I would have brought him this box eventually. Once I got word where he’s staying.” 

He carries down the box. “My current guess is with his girlfriend.”

Katniss hands over the squirrel and lifts the box from his arms. “I’d think he would have told me if he had a girlfriend.”

Bran’s mouth falls open. “You can’t be serious. I meant you.”

His sudden soft change of tone jars her, but the implication also rattles the nagging thought at the back of her mind. “Oh. We’re not… we’re friends.”

She can make out a few curses and ‘Peeta’ son of a something under his breath. “Well, now I’m back to confused. His choices were making sense there for a minute.”

She starts to walk away from the bakery. “We’re done here.”

“Wait! Ugh.” He calls across the yard “Will you trade tomorrow? I’ll work on the puns!”

Chapter Text

Winding through a back alleyway, she juggles both the box and her stuffed game bag. 

The cobbler is only three shops down from the bakery, but if Bran didn’t know where Peeta is staying, she’s not waltzing straight through town as a giant arrow. 

Finding the Butcher’s closed had been an unwelcome surprise. She’d expected them to pay decent coin for the fat turkey now weighing her down. Still, she knows the lost sale wasn’t what made her want to rip the official betrothal announcement with the Grocer’s second son off the door.

One week. 

One week was all it took them to replace Peeta. His fate now sealed like the Capitol embossment over the new couple’s signatures.  

Had the bakery been so quick to replace the apothecary’s daughter more than two decades earlier? Maybe Mrs. Mellark was never properly vetted by Peeta’s grandparents in their rush to save face. 

She tries to picture Peeta’s name drawn with his steady hand on that paper. Would she have felt the comfort she imagines? He would have been safe. As safe as a man can be in District 12. 

Maybe Gale’s been right about her ability to ignore the future. Because comfort isn’t exactly what she’s finding at the thought. 

Katniss sets the box down at her feet. Giving her burning muscles and the sudden tightness in her throat some needed relief. 

Her eyes drift down. The box is heavier than it looked. Stuffed full of hand-tied sketch books, jars of paints, a half used burn cream, small paintings on scraps of wood.   

Two canvases crafted from old flour sacks are pressed against the side. 

She adjusts the tub of burn cream so that it is hidden beneath the sketch books. As the daughter of the Seam healer, being caught carrying that through town by the wrong merchant would get her in a lot more trouble than the wild game at her side. 

The Apothecary would have her whipped in the square without batting an eye. Not feeling an ounce of guilt as their disowned niece cried out in pain. 

Thankfully business owners can only enforce the monopoly on the sale of goods, not services.

Nor the ‘medicinal application’ loophole her mother figured out long before she was born. 

She probably shouldn’t have taken the risk to give the remedy to Peeta this last winter. But her caution had faded at the sight of the inflamed skin across his forearm. And she couldn’t expect him to find his way through the Seam for a daily treatment in her kitchen. 

Katniss sighs and picks up the box. Seems like a silly thought now that he’s stuck in the mines only a year later. 

Rounding the corner of the shoe shop, she squeezes between the old shed and her traded hides stretching on the wooden racks. 

“Katniss?” 

Delly Cartwright stands a few yards away. They’ve developed a good rapport since Delly took over the trades from her father a few months ago. 

“Hey, Delly. Is Peeta here?”

“He better not be.”

Delly cringes at the stern voice.

Mr. Cartwright leans out the open window. “We don’t need any trouble with the bakery.” 

A familiar voice pipes up from inside. “I told you Pops, I can handle them.”

The old cobbler shakes his head, sadness crossing his worn features. “I’m sorry, but that hasn’t been true in my observation.”  

Rye doesn’t miss a beat. “Well, you might want to use those observation skills on this shoe. Unless Mr. Undersee no longer needs his left pinky toe.” 

Mr. Cartwright groans, before slinking away to help his new son-in-law. 

She feels sick to her stomach. It hadn’t occurred to her that the elder Cartwright’s would be in the dark about their extra guest. They won’t be assigned a townhouse until the first grandchild is born. Some shops are better situated for the multigenerational layout than others. 

Delly hurries over. Peaking into the window as she rushes by. She guides Katniss to the shed and they hop inside.

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A thin beam of light shines through the gable vent.  Scrap wood and old display shelves mix with tools of the cobbler trade along the walls. A distinct tannin smell hangs in the air. 

Katniss tries to put the box down only to be met with blue eyes staring up at her. 

“Well, don't set it on me.”

She yelps and jumps back. Bumping into Delly who prevents her from tumbling to the floor. “Sorry! I should have warned you.” 

Regaining her bearings, Katniss assesses Peeta stretched out on the floorboards. “What are you doing in here??” 

He sits up, adjusting his threadbare blanket. “This is where I’ve been staying at night. Got caught sneaking out of Rye and Delly’s room Wednesday morning.” 

“ Wednesday ?” Four days ago. “I thought you were on the couch or something. I had no idea you were having to sneak in and out. And sleeping on a shed floor! Is that why you’ve been at the Hob so late? No wonder you look exhausted.”

“It's not the only reason I’m at the Hob late.” Now is not the time for his flirtatious antics. 

“Lack of sleep is a good way to make mistakes in the mine.” 

Peeta chuckles. She’s not sure what he finds so amusing. 

A reassuring hand rests on her arm. “Katniss, no one thinks a shed is ideal.” Delly’s kind tone holds an apology. “It’s good to see how much you care about him. He had assured me you two were at least friends. But since you never spoke to him at school, I-”

“Because I didn’t want this to happen!” 

She feels a twinge of guilt for startling the sweet girl. 

Peeta had tried. Tried to extend their friendly trade exchanges into the halls and lunchroom. She’d quickly rebuffed him. Madge was already set apart. Their quiet friendship didn’t hurt her status in town. But Peeta… there was his mother’s wrath to consider, plus he had always fit in so well. Always surrounded by a group of friends with matching hair. But where were those friends now? 

Katniss’ teeth clench. “Everyone in town is so quick to cast him out.”

The shed door bumps into her back. She and Delly shuffle around to make room, as Rye steps inside. 

“I tried.” Rye throws his hands up. “Your dad figured out what’s going on in here with all the yelling. Doubt even the shed will be an option tonight.” 

“Not much of a loss.” Katniss grumbles. 

“It was the best we could do.” Even in the dark, Rye’s eyes pierce right through her. “Know of any spare beds? I can think of one.” 

“Rye!” 

Peeta’s command echoes through the confined space as they all fall silent. 

“I’ll go talk to him.” Delly pecks a kiss to her husband’s lips before slipping out the door. 

Rye’s foot taps the ground. His agitated stance and expression contrast sharply against the jovial demeanor she’s become accustomed to. Either in the bakery kitchen offering up extra tidbits to Peeta’s storytelling. Or more recently in the shoe shop insisting Delly’s the best negotiator he’s ever seen. Though he has been rather quiet as of late. 

He squints at the box Katniss is still clutching then down at his brother. “You gonna stand up?”

“I would if I had pants on.”

Her cheeks begin to heat up. 

Peeta seems unconcerned. “What time is it now?” 

“Half past 10.” Rye answers.  

“Oh wow!” Running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know I could sleep that late, I don’t think I’ve slept past 7 in my entire life.”  

“Good thing you did. I can probably sneak you up at midnight.” He sounds so defeated. 

Peeta waves off the offer. “It’ll be fine, I need to check with the bunkhouse again. If it's still full, the weather is nice enough.”

Rye and Katniss scoff in unison. Once again he peers at the box.  

“I’ll let you two talk.” He nods at Peeta. “Let me know if you find something with a roof, please.” 

The door shuts too loudly behind him. 

"So, how’s your morning going?” Peeta smiles up at her. As if nothing is amiss this particular Sunday.

Katniss places the box next to him. And sinks down to sit on the floor. “I um…I got this from your brother. He said this is everything?”

He looks pleased as he rummages through the contents. “Yea, it’s all here. Thank you so much for grabbing this! My mother would likely never look under the stairs but I still feel better with it out of the bakery.”

She’s confused how this could be everything. He doesn’t seem to have any belongings in this shed, other than his school bookbag at his feet. “Does Rye have the rest of your things?” 

“No, there wasn’t much else.” Peeta shrugs. “I’ve got my mine uniforms. All my clothes were technically my brothers’. Now that I’ve been paid, I’ll get a few items today. This box has the only things I can’t replace.”

She hates them. Hates the Mellark’s. Her own grandparents, the ones who died never acknowledging their two granddaughters, had been decent enough to gift the family plantbook. What does Peeta have from his life in the bakery? Only his own creations and a toothbrush? 

She reaches out to touch the burn scar on his forearm. The winter wound doesn’t look so big now healed under her fingers. 

“The butchers are closed today.” 

Peeta nods like the butchers being open would have been the real surprise. 

“Bran didn’t know where you were staying.”

“That’s cause the guy tends to toe mother’s line a bit too much.” 

Katniss studies him close. “He also thought I was your girlfriend and that’s why you chose the mines.” 

“Oh.” He lets out an uneasy laugh. “Well, I’m sure you set the record straight.” 

Between his confession to a long held childhood crush, Bran’s assumption, and his assurances to Delly, she needs to know. “Please tell me you’re not in the mines because of me.”

There’s a long pause before Peeta speaks. 

“When I was around 8, I understood that if I was going to marry Katniss Everdeen, I needed to become a miner. I’d stay up late wondering how I was supposed to get you to like me without any cookies. Cookies were my original wooing plan. But I remembered your mom didn’t pick cookies, so I figured it would be okay.” 

She pictures a tiny Peeta worrying over which cookie flavor would best help his marriage prospects to the Seam girl. 

“Then there was the bread.” 

Their eyes lock as he continues. 

“After that I started to understand the full ramifications of my choice. The daily risks and hardships those in the Seam face.” 

If he actually understood they wouldn’t be here. 

“Soon you started trading at the back of the bakery. Always with Gale, and I still couldn’t work up the nerve to talk to you.” Peeta lets out a puff of air. “I figured I missed my chance. Started paying more attention to the couples around town. Most aren’t as bad as my parents. Lots of rather pleasant arrangements. It was easy enough to see genuine affection. But I couldn’t find the look I used to see on your dad’s face.”

Her chest constricts at the mention of the way her father would look at her mother. His feelings couldn’t have been any clearer, if they’d been tattooed across his forehead. 

“Maybe I did get my hopes up when we started talking. Especially when you still came back after I told you about the Valley song. But I made my final decision when you were dating Gale.”

Her eyebrows scrunch together, but he’s looking at her so earnestly she doesn’t dare interrupt. 

“My parents allowed Rye to sign with the cobblers instead of the butchers, under the pretense that I would fill his place. How lucky I was as a third to be offered such a prominent business. Both our contracts were expected to be announced at the Harvest Festival. Obviously only one was, because I had refused the night before.”

She tries to think back on her short time spent at that Festival. Rye and Delly spinning among the dancing couples. Mrs. Mellark’s seething anger was palpable even from a distance.  

Peeta continues, “The Butcher’s weren’t as invested in a union with the bakery as my parents, but they were willing to stall for a price. Rye thought if you and I weren’t dating by graduation, I should reconsider. But the deadline didn’t matter because there was no one for me in town. And even if you never chose me, life in the mines would at least give me the chance to find what I’ve been chasing.”

“The example set by the hunter and the apothecary’s daughter.” 

She’s dumbfounded as her mouth gapes open. How could he say that? Her shock morphs into a snarl. “And look how well that worked out for them!” 

Peeta looks heartbroken at her response. “Don’t you remember how happy they were?”

Of course she remembers! He’s the one who’s forgotten the rest. “I remember to gather the herbs she requires to function. I remember her empty stare when she was letting her children starve! I remember the day he didn't come home…”

Her voice cracks, unable to keep the tears at bay. Opening a floodgate she thought had been dammed up long ago. 

Peeta wraps her in an embrace. She allows his strong arms to comfort her sorrow. His warm hands rub soothing circles over her back. Whispering apologies she can’t hear over her own cries. 

She’s missed her father every day since the accident. His death casting a heavy shadow over her memories of his life. Survival took precedence over her grief for years. By the time she could catch her breath, the pain was too deep to bring up to the surface. 

He doesn’t belong down there. 

As her tears run dry, Peeta’s heartbeat thumps beneath her ear. Resting on his chest she could almost drift off to sleep. 

She lifts up to look at him. Concern etches his features. “Peeta, I remember. I remember how happy they were. I’m just…” 

Katniss sits back folding her arms over her stomach. “I’m not ready.”

“I know.”

Her head whips up. She’d braced for an argument. 

“I know you’re scared. Scared of relationships. And I understand why.” 

It’s not just any relationship she’s scared of. What Peeta described as ‘pleasant arrangements’ doesn’t scare her. It’s love that scares her. The kind that, if she lost it, would break her. The kind that she knew was creeping up on her with every trade but she’d been powerless to stop. 

Why did it have to be the mines? “I wish I could put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.”

“You can’t hide me up on a shelf.” 

Katniss laughs. His quip releases some of the tension throughout her body.  

But he’s studying her. Studying her with renewed intensity. Something clicks behind his gaze, like he’s finally sure what he didn’t dare presume. 

“You know the mines are safer now.” His words are so soft. 

She does know. As word of every new reform and safety measure trickled through the Seam, she and Gale would debate if it was the one that would have prevented their fathers’ fates. 

Her eyes dart away. Taking in the cluttered and cramped surroundings. “I know a place you can stay.”

“Really??” 

Katniss stands, then reaches down to help him up. 

Peeta accepts her hand but doesn’t move. Running his thumb back and forth across her skin. His eyes glisten in the dark. “Okay. But I still need to put my pants on.”