Chapter Text
Katniss hated Aunt Sarah as she was fairly sure she'd never hated anyone before. All right, so Mama and Papa had had to go on a trip. Katniss was sixteen! She was perfectly capable of taking care of baby Primrose for one week!
But no. No, they'd called Aunt Sarah. (Great-Aunt Sarah, really, but she hated being called that.) Aunt Sarah who fussed over Prim non-stop, who wouldn't let Katniss take care of her - 'what does a young girl like you know about babies' indeed! Hadn't Katniss been the one taking care of her since she was born? With Papa working so much and Mama exhausted and fragile after the birth, Katniss had done almost everything and she'd been good at it.
Now it was just 'go practice your music, Katniss'. 'Go work on your sampler for your grandmother's birthday, Katniss'. 'Good heavens, Katniss, just look at your dirty dress! Go and change it this instant!'. 'Katniss, young ladies do not practice archery in the back yard!'.
Katniss had hardly even seen Prim, and every time she did the baby reached out for her as if she'd missed Katniss as much as Katniss missed her. She started sneaking in after Aunt Sarah had gone to bed and before she got up, singing the lullabies Prim liked so she'd know that Katniss was still there.
On the third day, Aunt Sarah looked her up and down and tutted. "Well, I don't know what your mother is thinking. You're sixteen years old, far too old for a liberty bodice."
Katniss froze. No. Oh, no.
Aunt Sarah smiled at her and actually patted her hand. "You are a young lady now, Katniss, and it's time your parents noticed it. Today we'll go and choose a corset for you - and order a new walking dress, too!"
"No!" When she was trapped in one of those contraptions, unable to bend or twist - forget archery, she'd hardly be able to move! "Aunt Sarah, Mama doesn't want me to wear one yet," she said desperately. "Not until I'm eighteen. She... she says that I might still be growing." And it wasn't as if Katniss, thin and meagre-bosomed, actually needed one. Mama had assured her that her figure would fill out later - as if Katniss cared - but even Mama, sweet and silly as she could be sometimes, had apparently worked out that squashing someone already thin into a corset wasn't going to help them get any wider.
Aunt Sarah snorted. "As if a corset would hinder that! No, dear, my mind is quite made up. Today, as soon as Primrose is sleeping, we will leave her with the cook for half an hour and just step out to choose a corset for you.
Katniss begged, pleaded, and protested in vain. Aunt Sarah actually dragged her physically into a cab - the old lady was stronger than she looked. All the way to the shop, she scolded Katniss about what a terrible failure she was as a young lady, a daughter, and probably a sister too. Wild, unladylike, thoughtless, jealous....
The moment the cab stopped, Katniss opened the door and ran for it. She ran until she was breathless and gasping, until she was far beyond her knowledge, until she was on muddy streets edged with run-down houses. Dogs chased her, children jeered at her, and she only stopped when her stumbling steps led her onto the edge of a puddle and she slipped in the mud, going down with a thump and a sob. She tried to get up, but she'd come down beside a tangle of boards and when she moved she found her cape was caught on something. She fumbled behind her, tears coming even faster, but she was stuck...
"Oh, you poor kid. Here, let me help you out of that." The accent might be rough and uneducated, but the voice was kind. When she turned her head the first thing she saw was brown eyes and a little black nose surrounded by grey fur. The puppy was peering out of a pocket, but the pocket's owner had leaned around behind Katniss where she couldn't see him. She felt a couple of tugs on her cape, and then he straightened up and smiled down at her. His suit and shirt might be a little ragged, but they were clean, and his smile was charming. He was handsome, too, with waving blond hair, broad shoulders and kind eyes.
The combination of the smile and the puppy decided Katniss. Surely no bestial ravisher - the greatest threat to unattended young ladies according to Aunt Sarah - would have a smile like that, and who wouldn't trust someone who'd walk around with a dear little puppy in his pocket? She took the hand he offered her and stood, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He sounded as if he actually meant it, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I'm Peeta. What's your name?"
Mama had always been very clear on Talking to Strangers, especially boys. On the other hand, it was far too late to avoid it now, and it would be unforgivably rude to just run away. "Oh. Uh... I'm Katniss. Katniss Everdeen." She looked around and bit her lip. "And I'm awfully lost."
"If you weren't, you wouldn't be here," Peeta agreed. "Can I help you find a cab?"
Katniss shook her head, eyes filling again. "I... no. No, I don't have any money and... and I don't want to go back yet."
The way he looked at her showed that he'd noticed the tears, but it wasn't a pitying look - more of an understanding one. "I see. I'll tell you what. Why don't we go and get you cleaned up? I know some girls near here who can lend you a dress and try to get some of the mud off that one."
Aunt Sarah would be aghast. Faced with a choice between meeting poor people - oh, the horror - and going back to Aunt Sarah in a muddy dress and tear-stains, Katniss preferred to keep her dignity. "Thank you. That would be wonderful." She smiled at him, and to her surprise his eyes widened and his cheeks went a little pink. She couldn't imagine why.
But when he slung a satchel she hadn't noticed before over one shoulder and offered her the other arm, she took it, and then he wasn't the only one blushing. He was so... solid, and the feel of that solidity so close to her had Katniss's heart was fluttering strangely. For some reason, today felt a lot less dreadful than it had ten minutes ago. Unconsciously, she clung to his arm a little tighter.
He took her to one of the little run-down houses and introduced her to Delly, a plump blond girl with a plain face and a sweet smile. She made horrified noises at Katniss's bedraggled appearance and hustled her upstairs. In what felt like a minute or two, Katniss had washed her face and hands, had her hair tidied, been put into a worn but respectable dress ("A bit big around, of course, but how lucky that you're as short as I am!") and been given a cup of strong tea. "Once it's dry the mud will brush right off, and I can sponge it too," Delly said of the muddy dress. "And it will dry quickly if I hang it by the fire. And I'll try to fix that tear in your cape, too." She smiled kindly at Katniss and patted her hand. "It's no trouble at all. Now, drink up your tea, and maybe you and Peeta can go for a little walk while I fix your things? I find that when I'm upset, nothing does me as much good as a nice walk in the fresh air with lots of things to distract me."
Katniss knew what Aunt Sarah and even Mama would say about her going for a walk with a boy - especially That Sort of Boy. Katniss, however, agreed completely with Delly that when one was upset, a good brisk walk helped a lot more than sitting around wallowing. And a walk with Peeta would be... nice. "That sounds like a good idea. You're being so kind, both of you."
"Oh, it's nothing, only what anyone would do." Delly patted her shoulder again, seeming to really mean it. "Now, finish up your tea and off you go."
Peeta was outside, playing with his puppy. The way he looked up eagerly when Katniss closed the door behind her made her heart flutter again. He was so handsome, and so nice. The way the little puppy frolicked around him, licking his fingers, was proof enough of that. "Miss Everdeen, are you feeling better?"
"Much - and please, if I'm going to call you Peeta, you should call me Katniss," she said boldly. Oh, hurray for tossing propriety aside for one afternoon! "Delly suggested that we should go for a walk to, ah, settle my nerves a bit while she mends my cape and brushes off my dress."
"Sounds like a good idea." He gave her that smile again and her knees weakened a little. "Come on, Scamp." The puppy jumped into his hands and Peeta went to put him back in his pocket.
Katniss held out her hands impulsively. "May I hold him?"
Peeta blinked in surprise, but nodded and handed over the little wriggling bundle. "Of course, if you like. Be careful, though, he licks."
Katniss cuddled the puppy. "Of course he does. They all do." The puppy snuggled up to her and she scratched behind his ears. "He's so sweet! Have you had him for long?"
"About a week." Katniss glanced at him and was startled. He'd seemed so kind and cheerful until now, but when he scowled and his jaw tightened he looked almost frightening. "There was a stray who had her puppies in an old warehouse not far from here. Some boys found them and... well. When I got there the mother and two of the puppies were dead. Scamp was the only one still alive."
Katniss shuddered. "You don't need to tell me any more," she said grimly. "The neighbours bought a kitten for their little girl. Her brothers decided to... play with it." Boys were cruel, sometimes. She'd found the poor little kitten body, almost pulped by kicks, when she climbed over the wall.
Peeta nodded. "I don't suppose their parents did anything," he said just as grimly. He didn't seem at all put off by her scowls the way most boys were - he even gave her a look that almost seemed approving.
Because of that, and because of Scamp, Katniss laughed and told him the rest of the story. "They might not have, but I did. I spanked them both good and hard, and told them that if they ever did such a thing to a helpless animal again I'd tie bricks around their necks and throw them in the river." That was the customary fate for unwanted pets, after all - applying it to nasty little boys who tortured pets would have a certain poetic justice, and they were young enough to take dramatic threats seriously.
Peeta laughed too, a surprisingly musical laugh. "That's about what I did - except I used a stick, what with there being three of them nearly as big as me. Did yours tell their parents?"
"Of course they did." Katniss grinned impishly. "Their mother didn't care - she really likes cats, and she knows they're more scared of me than they are of her so it's more likely to stick. But their father came around and complained to mine. Papa heard him out, promised to talk to me, and told me that next time I should call him because he can spank much harder than I can. He likes animals too."
Peeta grinned at her. "Two of mine tried. One got whaled again by his mother for tormenting God's innocent creatures, and the other one's father just laughed and told him that if three of them together couldn't take a short fellow like me then they should take their medicine without complaints."
He was short - just a shade under medium height, at least. But Katniss liked that. She was so short herself that it was nice to be able to have a conversation with a boy's face instead of his waistcoat buttons. "Good." Scamp wriggled up to lick the side of her neck, and she actually giggled. She never giggled! "Scamp, that tickles!" She tucked him into the crook of her arm, scratching behind his ears. "Yes, I know, you like giving kisses - but not there, please."
Peeta's ears had gone rather red, for some reason. "Well, at least I rescued him. He's good company." He reached over to tug on one of Scamp's floppy ears very gently, and the puppy yipped happily.
Katniss couldn't remember the last time she'd talked this easily with anyone - well, except Prim, who didn't count. She couldn't even roll over yet, let alone talk. Even Gale Hawthorn, who lived across the street and she'd known all her life, wasn't such easy company as this stranger. He had been once, when they were little, but when his father had died in an accident when Gale was fourteen he'd decided that he needed to be the Man of the House. Ever since then he was always a little too proper, a little disapproving of Katniss's hoydenish ways. Almost before she knew it, she was pouring out the story of the day.
"And I don't know why Aunt Sarah thinks I'm jealous! I'm not, not the littlest bit! Why, I spend more time taking care of Primrose than Mama does! She had a fever after Prim was born, and she could hardly get out of bed, so I did everything. I did it well, too, Mama said so."
Peeta nodded. "Maybe she didn't mean that you're jealous of Primrose, but that you're jealous over Primrose," he said slowly. "I mean, not that you're jealous of the attention she gets, but that you want to keep her to yourself and not share her."
Katniss opened her mouth to protest... but couldn't. She was possessive of her darling baby sister, and why shouldn't she be? "Well, I don't see what that has to do with her," she snapped instead. "Mama doesn't mind that I like taking care of her - she says it's good practice, for when I have my own, and that she's too tired and run down still to be up half the night with a baby. And Aunt Sarah will hardly let me in the nursery at all!"
"Maybe she's enjoying having a baby to take care of too," Peeta suggested, then grinned and pretended to quail when Katniss glared at him. "I'm sorry. Of course it's pure wicked selfishness on her part, and I won't make one more excuse for her."
Katniss laughed in spite of herself. "It's not that, exactly - but she doesn't approve of me, and she thinks she knows better than I do. She's always telling me to be more ladylike, to sit in the parlour and sew samplers or practice my music. It's so boring. Don't run, Katniss. Don't scowl like that, Katniss. A young lady does not practice archery, Katniss." She hadn't meant to blurt that out, and blushed.
Peeta looked surprised. "Archery? Really?"
She nodded. "Papa learned when he was a boy, and he taught me. He says that healthy exercise is just as important for girls as for boys, and that archery is perfectly ladylike really. I mean, it's not as if I'm hiking up my skirts and running races or climbing trees." Both of which she did every chance she got, as Papa knew very well. She knew she'd have to stop eventually, but not yet. Not just yet. "But Aunt Sarah saw me shoot an apple off a tree and had palpitations about how I was going to kill someone by accident." Katniss snorted, another unladylike habit. "Nothing will convince her that I meant to hit that apple, and that if I put an arrow through someone it's going to be because I meant to. I don't hit things I'm not aiming at."
He was smiling at her oddly, and when she trailed off he smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you - it's just interesting. You don't talk like any respectable young lady I ever heard."
"I know. Aunt Sarah says I'm a mortification to Mama and Papa." Katniss sighed. "I suppose I am - but I get so bored and so angry that I just have to scowl or say things I'm not supposed to."
He was giving her that odd look again, and then he gave her a shy smile. "Listen... could I ask an odd favour?"
Her eyebrows rose. "What kind of favour?" she asked cautiously. He might be the nicest boy she'd ever met, but if he thought she was going to let him try anything...
"Could I draw you?" he blurted out. "Just a sketch, it wouldn't take long."
She stopped walking and stared at him. "You draw?"
He did. The satchel over his shoulder was full of the accoutrements of the street artist - a block of rather cheap paper, charcoal sticks, and so on. He let her look through some of his sketches, and though Katniss was no expert - she could play the piano if she must, and she did sing well, but when it came to drawing she could barely manage a stick person - but even she could see that he was very, very good.
He posed her with Scamp on her lap, sitting on the remains of a low wall. "Just try not to move," he said, sitting on the other end of the wall and balancing the scrap of board he used to hold his paper on his knee. "I'll only be a minute."
Sitting still wasn't one of Katniss's favourite things to do, but she'd had to learn. She cradled Scamp between her hands, on his back with his little paws waving, and rocked him gently back and forth. His eyes closed, and months of habit with little Primrose had their way. Without even thinking about it, Katniss began to sing softly. "Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow..."
She had gone through the song twice, singing softly and slowly, when she glanced up at Peeta to see how things were going. His hand was moving fast, almost feverishly, and as she looked at him he looked up at her and her heart didn't flutter this time - it leaped. There was longing in that look, and a warmth that made her pulse speed up. "Don't move," he said, a strange note in his voice. "Stay just like that."
So she watched him for a minute or two, time to take in the firm line of his jaw and the soft waves of hair over his ears, the skilled movements of big, square hands and the tiny line between his brows when he concentrated. Every time he glanced up and their eyes met, her heart jumped again.
All too soon he stopped, looking down at his paper with a sigh. "It's still rough," he said apologetically. "I wish I had better tools... you should be painted, not just sketched."
Katniss shifted, only now even realising that her seat was uncomfortable. "Can I see it?"
He nodded, but he took the sleeping puppy and tucked him carefully into his pocket before slowly handing over the paper still attached to the board.
It was rough, that was true, but Katniss still caught her breath. This was nothing like the girl she saw in the mirror, her face usually sullen or impassive - somehow, in addition to making her too pretty, he'd found the serenity and contentment of singing to Prim, of cradling a sleeping puppy in her hands, and put it in her face. She'd felt like that, but she hadn't known what it did to her expression. "Oh," she said softly. "It's beautiful."
"It's all right." He took it back, handling it very carefully. "Thank you for letting me make it."
"Thank you for letting me see it." She smiled a little shyly. "Even if you did make me too pretty."
"I did not." He got up, offering her a hand. "We should get back - your Aunt Sarah will have the constables out soon."
Katniss took his hand - she didn't need help getting up, but she liked the clasp of his big calloused fingers - and rose, straightening her skirts. "I suppose so. But I don't want to," she blurted out, and then blushed. "It's just... stifling. Just sitting, and sewing, and learning just enough mathematics for household accounts, and... ugh! You know, this is the closest I've ever come to an adventure of my own, and it's over almost before it started."
He smiled, but his beautiful eyes were shadowed now. "You'd like it much less if it went on longer, believe me. The street's no place for a lady like you. Scamp and I don't mind sleeping under the stars now and then, but I don't think you'd care for it."
She blinked at him in surprise. "Don't you have a family?"
He shook his head, mouth tightening. "Not any more."
She wanted to ask, but he clearly didn't want to talk about it. So she took his arm again, which seemed to surprise him. "I suppose we should go back," she said softly. "But... I hope I'll have a chance to see you and Scamp again."
His hand covered hers on his arm for a moment. "I hope so too," he said softly. "You don't seem at all shocked that I'm just a common tramp, Katniss."
"I don't think you're a common anything." She shrugged. Aunt Sarah would be shocked, of course, even Papa and Mama would be, but she didn't care. "I dare say a man can be as good an artist on a street as in a garret," she pointed out, "and they seem to positively dote on those, according to my history books. Plenty of great artists have suffered in poverty, you know. It's quite the usual way." He was a wonderful artist, if not technically great yet.
He laughed, sounding startled. "I... hadn't thought of it that way. I'm hardly a great artist."
"Well, you can't be much older than I am," Katniss pointed out. "I don't think anyone is a great artist until they're at least ten years older than we are, and some are very old. You have lots of time. But even I can tell you're good enough to be one."
He swung her around to face him, then, looking down at her. "Do you really think that? You're not just saying it?"
Katniss met his eyes, a little puzzled. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it. Why would I?"
"To be polite?"
"Oh. No, I don't do that," Katniss admitted, then blushed. "I'm wretched at being polite. Aunt Sarah's always telling me I'm shockingly blunt."
He kissed her.
It was nothing like the kisses she'd read about in novels - he didn't snatch her up in his arms or crush her lips with his or any of those things that didn't sound terribly pleasant. Instead it was a swift, fleeting thing, his head dipping and his lips brushing over hers, his arms not clutching or even encircling her, but his hand gently clasping hers for a moment. She could have drawn away easily. - but she didn't. It was a wildflower of a kiss, a dandelion, small and fragile and as bright as the sun...
Then he jumped back, scarlet to the ears. "I... I am so sorry!" he blurted out. "I should never have taken the liberty... I just... " His eyes were over-bright, and not just because of the raging blush. "No-one has ever said anything like... about my drawing, I mean, I... I was overcome, but it's no excuse..."
Katniss was still frozen in place, trembling with the tide of unfamiliar sensations raging within her. "I think," she said, her voice rather distant in her own ears, "that Aunt Sarah must be right about me."
He shook his head, looking puzzled. "I don't understand. Why..."
"Because I am quite sure that I should have slapped you," Katniss explained reasonably, if somewhat breathlessly. "And I didn't. I didn't even want to. So she may be right about what a shameless hussy I am." In fact, what Katniss most wanted was for this boy she hardly knew to kiss her again - and for rather longer this time. Being seized in his arms was not at all an unappealing notion, either.
"I'm... glad you didn't want to, though I probably shouldn't be." Peeta swallowed hard. He was still blushing, but he was looking at her as if... well, it reminded her a lot of the way Papa looked at Mama, even after years of being married. "I should take you back to Delly. And then..." He smiled shyly. "Then perhaps, Miss Everdeen, I might walk you home."
Katniss returned the smile, feeling shy and dazzled and utterly happy. "Thank you," she said softly, taking his arm again. "I would like that."
*
When Katniss finally reached home Aunt Sarah had been absolutely livid, scolding and berating until her jaw apparently tired and she sent Katniss to her room. As soon as Katniss was sure she was asleep, she tiptoed to the nursery and told Prim all about the boy with the golden hair and beautiful eyes who had drawn her picture and thought she was pretty. Prim gurgled happily, then dozed off in her sister's arms.
The next morning, Aunt Sarah made Katniss spend a full hour and a half practicing her music at the piano, then pushed her embroidery into her hands. "I want to see this sampler finished by the time your parents get home," she said grimly. "Finished, do you understand?"
"Yes, Aunt Sarah," Katniss muttered. She hated sewing. But she looked around the room, always a little shadowy in the morning, and had a happy thought. "I'll go sit on the seat in the garden, like Mama does," she said, trying to sound as if she wanted to be good. "She always embroiders out in the garden on sunny mornings, where the light is best." She hesitated. "I could take Prim's basket with me," she added hopefully. "Mama says it's good for her to get some sunshine."
"Primrose is sleeping," Aunt Sarah said stiffly, but then seemed to relent a little. "Still, regular sunshine is good for babies - if you are still working hard after Primrose has had her bath, and you've made some progress, you may have her outside with you for half an hour."
That was the biggest concession she'd made since Mama and Papa left, and Katniss nodded eagerly. "Of course, Aunt Sarah! I'll go get started right away!" If embroidery was the price of time with her sister, she would stab her fingers all morning.
She had been sewing for nearly half an hour when she heard a rustle behind her, by the garden wall. She looked around, expecting to see one of the boys from next door climbing the wall again - but instead she saw Peeta, curls gleaming in the sun, smiling down at her. "Good morning. I see the dragon didn't eat you."
"Only because she can't unhinge her jaw far enough," Katniss said, but she smiled up at him. "I'm so glad to see you. I was afraid I wouldn't, not for days - I know Aunt Sarah's not going to let me out of the house again until Mama and Papa come home."
"I thought that might be it. And I definitely thought I probably shouldn't knock on the door." His smile was warm, and the way he looked down at her made her feel a little giddy. Was he thinking of kissing her yesterday? She certainly hadn't been able to get it out of her mind. "Can we talk for a minute? Is she likely to look out to check on you?"
"Oh, she probably will, just to make sure I'm still here. But..." Katniss bit her lip and looked around. She didn't want him to leave yet.
There was another bench on the other side of the garden, by the apple tree, where Mama sat when she wanted shade. "If you don't mind staying a while, you could sit in the apple tree," she suggested shyly. "There's a very comfortable branch, and she wouldn't see you up there. If... if you don't have to go right away. I know you must have other things to do."
"Footloose and fancy free. I'd like to stay, if you don't mind," he added, suddenly looking as shy as she felt. "I... wanted to see you again."
"I wanted to see you too." Katniss looked up at the house. No-one looking, not yet. "Come on, over to the apple tree - oh, and I'll go ask the cook for some milk, that will help explain why I moved if she asks."
Once Peeta was in the tree, she ran over to the kitchen door. Mrs Smith, thankfully, knew both that Aunt Sarah had very decided ideas about ladylike portions and that Katniss customarily ate about twice that much. Mama always said that, as thin as she was while eating like a bear in spring, if she ate the way some of the other girls did she'd fade away to nothing. Mrs Smith had already cut two nice, thick roast beef sandwiches 'for a midmorning snack' and willingly added an apple and a glass of milk. "After the day you had yesterday, dearie, getting lost and wandering who knows where, no wonder you're hungry!"
Katniss was hungry, but she had no intention of eating the food herself. After all Peeta had done for her, surely the least she could do was give him and Scamp a decent meal. "Are there any meat scraps, or have Aunt Sarah's awful cats eaten them all? I think that stray Mama was feeding last month has come back, and I want to give it something."
Only a few minutes later, she walked carefully back to the bench with the tray the cook had given her. "There." She smiled up at Peeta, settled on the comfortable branch she favoured and leaning against the trunk of the tree with Scamp on his lap. "I have something for you."
"You didn't have to do that," he said, a faint shadow crossing his face. "I didn't mean - "
He thought she was giving him charity, she realised, and blushed for her own thoughtlessness. "Well, I wasn't going to just sit here and eat in front of you without sharing," she said firmly, as if the thought had never entered her head. "That would be rude. And I always have something mid-morning, because Aunt Sarah thinks a young lady shouldn't need more than a slice or two of toast and a cup of weak tea in the morning, and if it wasn't for Mrs Smith slipping me extra meals I think I'd starve before Mama and Papa come home."
Peeta's face cleared. "Well, if we're sharing..."
Katniss passed up the little tin bowl of scraps for Scamp and the apple, along with one of the sandwiches. "Do you mind sharing the milk?" she asked shyly. "There's only one glass, so..."
"I don't mind. You have half, then pass it up." When she did, she thought he put his lips to the glass in the same place she had, and found herself blushing ridiculously. As if it mattered.
She didn't bother taking tiny ladylike bites of her sandwich, either, but inhaled it even faster than he did his. "I have to eat quickly so Aunt Sarah won't catch me with it," she explained, carefully hiding the plate under her work-basket so Aunt Sarah, if she looked, would only see the acceptable milk-glass.
"She really does sound like a dragon." Peeta looked down at her, little specks of light shining through the leaves to light his hair and clear blue eyes. "How long are your parents going to be away?"
"Another three or four days." Katniss sighed wistfully. "At least - Papa said he would wire if they have to stay longer, it's some sort of business thing. He took Mama because he thought a change of air would be good for her - she wasn't well for a long time after Primrose arrived." The thought of Prim reminded her to pick up her embroidery again. She'd actually forgotten Prim for a little while, she'd been so happy to talk to Peeta. Hardly anything had distracted her from Prim since she was born...
"I don't suppose I'll get to see her." Peeta sounded regretful. "I like babies - I mean, not that I've seen many. But they're sweet, when they're not crying."
"You might get to, if you stay - if I sew really hard, Aunt Sarah said I might be allowed to have Prim outside with me for half an hour." Katniss jabbed her needle into the sampler. "She's punishing me - she says I have to have this finished before Mama and Papa get home. It's for Grandmama's birthday. I have months." Stupid green leaves. They took SO LONG. "And I don't even like Grandmama! She's my mother's mother, Aunt Sarah's sister, and she's horrible. Just like Aunt Sarah. A lady doesn't this, and a lady doesn't that, and little girls should be seen and not heard. Honestly, if it wasn't for Prim I'd run away and go on the stage."
A startled yelp from Scamp suggested that Peeta had moved quite suddenly. "You wouldn't really."
"Oh, I would. Papa said he wanted to, once, but he married Mama instead and had to be respectable." Katniss finished one leaf and started on another. "He has a wonderful singing voice. I'm not as good as he is, but I am good enough to sing in a music hall or something, I'm sure."
"You are." There was an odd note in Peeta's voice. "When I heard you singing to Scamp... it was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. I've been in music halls - in real theatres, too, once or twice. Running messages, or painting scenery once. You could go to any theatrical agent and have work in a minute, if you wanted it, and not in a music hall either."
"I do." Katniss's eyes prickled. She'd wanted to escape for so long. And now she wanted it even more, because then nobody could stop her from seeing Peeta again as often as she wanted to. He wouldn't have to hide in trees just to talk to her. "To be free, to not have to behave like a lady any more, to be able to travel and have adventures... but I can't. Prim needs me. Mama's not well enough to take care of her, not all the time. Maybe... maybe when she's older, I'll be able to go."
"Maybe." Peeta's voice was soft and wistful. "I've travelled some - I'm from Virginia, originally. I left a couple of years back, and that was a trip. But it's only in cities that you can make anything as a street artist, even a dime here or there, so I guess I won't be moving on for a while."
"I'm glad," Katniss said, keeping her eyes on her sewing and hoping he didn't see how much she was blushing. "I mean... I'm not glad that you can't have adventures. But I'm glad you're here."
"So am I," he said, with that soft warm note in his voice that made her feel all melty and shivery. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."
Katniss looked up at him, and his eyes caught and held hers for a long moment. He felt it too, she realised, the giddy warmth, the odd sensation of being connected. He wanted to be with her as badly as she wanted to be with him.
For the first time since Prim was born, she almost wasn't pleased to see her sister. It was Aunt Sarah carrying her out, after all, in the large basket, and Aunt Sarah must *not* see Peeta. Katniss jumped up and hurried towards her, embroidery hoop still in her hand. "Prim! Hello, my darling!" She leaned down to kiss the little rosy face. "What a good girl!"
Aunt Sarah let her take the basket, taking the embroidery hoop in turn. "Much better," she said approvingly. "I was sure you could make progress if you tried. Very well, you may keep Primrose outside for half an hour, but don't let any flies land on her."
"I never do." Katniss took Prim back to the tree, setting her decorously on the grass. Only when she was sure Aunt Sarah was gone did she put down the embroidery and scoop Prim up in her arms. The baby gurgled happily, clutching at Katniss's braid and the collar of her dress with little hands. "Oh, I missed you." Katniss cuddled her happily, then looked up at the boy in the tree. "Would you like to meet her? She likes to see new people."
He slid down from the tree, setting Scamp down on the grass and moving closer. "She's beautiful," he said, and Katniss was sure he wasn't just saying it to please her. Primrose was beautiful, as small and perfect and enchanting as the flower she was named for, with huge blue eyes and little downy golden curls. An artist certainly couldn't fail to see it.
"She is." Katniss cuddled her sister happily. Sometimes she felt almost as if she were as much Prim's mother as Mama - she'd spent just as much time taking care of her. She'd always thought she didn't especially want babies herself. She'd never cared for playing house, or liked dolls much. But a real baby, that was so different. Dolls were dead things. Prim was alive and warm, smiling and crying and clutching with tiny hands, depending on Katniss for everything.
After that, Katniss had almost been able to see the point of the growing-up-and-getting-married the other girls always made such a fuss about. It was the only way of getting darling soft babies of her very own, who she never had to share with anyone.
Peeta reached out, touching Prim's curled fist with a gentle fingertip. She grabbed the finger, and Peeta blinked and smiled slowly. "Wow. Does that mean she likes me?"
"It means you put something within her reach." Katniss shifted Prim around so she could see the face so coincidentally like her own in colouring, even to the fair curls. Peeta was still smiling that sweet smile, and as soon as she saw it Prim smiled back and reached out a hand to pat his cheek. Katniss could actually see it reducing Peeta to putty. "*That* means she likes you."
"Wow." Peeta was beaming, and it lit up his face. "I like her too. She's the prettiest baby I ever saw." He glanced up into the tree, where he'd left his satchel. "Could I...?"
Katniss smiled. "Of course... but I want one to keep, this time, of Prim. I don't need pictures of me, but I do want one of her."
He scrambled up into the tree as agilely as Katniss ever had. "Of course - I'll do both. I'd better do it from up here, though. If you hold her in your arms I can see her very well from up here."
"Of course." Katniss smiled up at him. "I won't be able to stay perfectly still, though. Babies don't."
"Oh, I know that. I'll manage."
Katniss cuddled and played with Prim for a little while, but as usual after her bath and her bottle, she was soon sleepy. "I should sing to her," Katniss said, blushing again. She didn't usually sing in front of strangers - and after he'd said her voice was the most beautiful he'd ever heard, she felt ridiculously self-conscious.
"Please." Half hidden among the leaves, Peeta smiled down at her, still sketching busily. He reminded her of... not Puck, perhaps, he didn't have Puck's mischief, but one of the kindly wood-sprites in old stories, who helped lost children and teased and taunted only those who deserved it. Someone you knew wasn't real, but wanted so desperately to find...
She sang Prim to sleep with the old ballads Papa liked best, hoping that Peeta would like them too. And once or twice, when she looked up at him, his busy hand had stilled and he was looking at her with that longing that made her breath catch in her throat. He did feel it too!
It startled her when Aunt Sarah appeared, bustling towards her. "There you are... it's been at least forty minutes, Katniss, and I told you only half an hour."
Katniss heard a tiny rustle, and assumed Peeta was retreating further into the tree. "I'm sorry, Aunt Sarah," she said softly, lifting a finger to her lips. "But she was just about to drop off and I didn't want to disturb her." Which was a huge lie - Prim had been asleep for at least ten minutes, and Katniss had lost track of time completely anyway. But it was a perfectly good excuse, and there was no point in wasting it.
"Ah, I see. Well, she's asleep now, so you can both come in." Aunt Sarah did lower her voice, and drew the little blanket over Prim when Katniss laid her in the basket. "There, now... the little darling," she said dotingly. The one likeable thing about Aunt Sarah was that she genuinely adored Prim, even if she wouldn't share. "She sleeps like a little angel... there, now, I'll take her in, and you bring your embroidery. Too much sun is injurious to the complexion, you know."
Katniss had been told this, but since her skin had the same olive tint as Papa's and was already unfashionably brown, she had never seen that it applied to her. Still, this was no time to argue. "Yes, Aunt Sarah." She didn't dare dawdle, but made a show of coming in with Aunt Sarah - and as soon as they were indoors, she clapped her hand to her forehead. "Oh! I left the tray outside! I had a glass of milk - I'll run back and get it, Aunt Sarah, I won't be a moment."
As she'd suspected, Aunt Sarah made no effort to follow her back outside. When she reached the tree, Peeta was laying a sheet of paper on the tray. He looked up, and when he saw her he smiled. "I didn't think you'd get away again."
"I came back for the tray. And my picture." She didn't reach for either, though, moving closer to him. "And to know your name. The rest of it, I mean. I... If I don't see you, or if you can't come by, I can't just ask for 'Peeta'."
He was giving her that look again. "Peeta Mellark. But you shouldn't come looking for me. It might not be safe, and... and I'm fairly sure your parents won't approve of me any more than your Aunt Sarah would."
"They're not as bad as she is. And..." Katniss swallowed hard. "And I wouldn't care if they were. You want to see me again, don't you?"
"Oh, yes." He shifted closer, taking her hands in his and clasping them tightly. "More than... Do you ever walk in the park, the one two streets over?"
"Sometimes, with my friends..." Katniss shivered, and in defiance of all propriety she shifted closer still. Damn propriety. She wanted another kiss. "Why?"
"Then I'll stay there all day tomorrow, and hope." Was he breathing a little faster than before? "Katniss - " When she lifted her face to his, he trailed off. Slowly, giving her time to draw away, he bent his head to kiss her again.
The kiss was different this time, slow and gentle and sweet. Her hands were still clasped in his, and Katniss was gripping as tightly as he was, kissing him as much as he was kissing her. Last time she'd been too startled - this time she wanted him to know he didn't have to apologise.
It was over too quickly, though not as quickly as last time. Peeta stepped back, blushing furiously but smiling bashfully at her. "I... thank you," he said, then shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "That sounded stupid, but... do you know what I mean?"
"Yes." Katniss couldn't stop smiling, though she felt as bashful as he looked. "And.. thank you. And if Aunt Sarah will let me, I'll be in the park tomorrow. And if she doesn't, I will be there on Wednesday for certain."
"Then I'll see you then." Peeta turned away, and had to turn back immediately to pick up his satchel. "I nearly forgot. Uh. I hope you like the picture."
"I will." Katniss watched him go, and it took her a moment in turn to remember what she was supposed to be doing. The whole exchange had only taken a minute or two, surely, but Aunt Sarah would be waiting impatiently already.
The picture, when she examined it later, was a beautiful study of Prim asleep, her little fist tucked under her chin. She put it in a book, very carefully, with a sheet of clean paper to protect it. She would keep it forever.