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“It’s a crime that we haven’t met before,” Peeta twines his fingers through hers.
Katniss laughs, gently mocking him: “Yeah, twenty-one whole years. The world owed us a meeting when we were still gestating.”
“You’ve said this is your favourite ice cream shop,” he argues. “I come here pretty frequently too.” Not to mention that since it is winter – midnight on Christmas eve, at that – hardly anyone is coming in to eat ice cream. The shop is deserted except for the two of them. “Both of us study at Panem. Since you have that sticker—” He gestures at her bag, accidentally brushing his hand against her shoulder, which causes her heart to give a sudden thump. “You volunteer for the Service for Underprivileged Children Program, which I do too—”
Katniss has to admire how he says it, most people derisively call it SOP. But this line of conversation inspires a thought. “And you’re on the soccer team, right? My best friend is too.”
He throws his hands up, vindicated. “See!”
“I said you may have a point,” she feels a grin stretch her lips, easy in a way that doesn’t happen around anyone other than Prim and maybe Gale and Finnick. “What do you want to do, call our common acquaintances and demand to know why they didn’t introduce us to one another?”
Peeta smirks, challenge accepted. “Great idea!”
Katniss can’t stop a disbelieving laugh. But she still leans forward to look through Peeta’s contact list, because she’s a sucker.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Madge
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Katniss doesn’t like to think about it too much, but she has a fondness for pretty things.
She did grow up in a nursery that doubled as a florist’s shop and a herbalist’s home, so she thinks it comes naturally.
Of course, she doesn’t have the time or money to indulge in it. The only reason she’s here is because her roommate insisted.
Madge looks up from where she’s browsing through plates. Plates, of all things, that apparently require much more consideration than Katniss – who simply picked the cheapest ones from the cheapest store ever since her father’s death – has ever given them.
Madge is so quiet she hadn’t expected her to be such a shopper?. Then again, she is rich and wealthy people are a species Katniss gave up a long time ago on understanding. It’s good enough for her that Madge is kind and friendly and doesn’t care about Katniss’ terrible schedule.
After all, she did declare that Katniss has to help her in decorating their room since she must have a say.
Even if she could’ve relieved Prim from the shop for a couple hours instead. Really, Katniss would prefer being there than being dragged through the monotony of giving opinions on curtains and bedspreads and cushions. It’s been incredibly tiring and a total waste of time.
Then she remembers the weight of the gilded frame Madge had bought for her when she caught her staring at it for a moment too long. The one that would be perfect for her parents’ carefully preserved wedding photo.
Fine, maybe not a total waste.
“Which material should we go with?” Madge questions.
“It’s almost four,” Katniss says pointedly. “Don’t you think it’s getting a little late?”
“It isn’t time to leave until we’re done,” she declares in response.
She huffs a laugh. “While that’s a great philosophy, I don’t think my advisor would agree.”
“You have a meeting with your advisor on a Saturday?” Her nose wrinkles. “Don’t either of you like holidays? Or even weekends?”
“I’m too busy on weekdays,” she reminds Madge. “And this one is kind of urgent.”
She gets a dramatic sigh. “I suppose. We do have another stop to make, though.”
“Uh, no, we don’t.”
“It’s not that far! Listen, Crumbs and Malarkey is the best—”
Katniss snorts. “Their business’ name has the word malarkey in it?”
“It’s a family bakery, owned by the Mellarks,” she explains. “I’m pretty sure Em came up with it, it’s the sort of thing they’d love. Anyway, their pastries are to die for.”
She regards her roommate in surprise. She isn’t exactly prone to hyperbole – their matter-of-fact natures is a reason they get along.
“Plus, I know the youngest is working right now,” she continues. “And I promise you’ll love him!”
“Likely.” Katniss rolls her eyes. Finnick promises her that all the time when he sets her up – and he’s always wrong. And Prim keeps telling her she’s lovely and if she’s herself everyone will love her – when most people are indifferent to her. Gale’s the only one who agrees with her, which is why he’s her best friend – that her surly and reserved attitude means she’s an acquired taste. But, he’d also said, it isn’t like she lacks in friends. She just doesn’t like strangers.
Anyway, she isn’t impressed by Madge’s argument.
“No,” she says firmly, forestalling any further discussion by hauling their items to the counter. “I don’t want to meet anyone, and it doesn’t matter how good their confections are, we need to get back.”
Peeta’s legs are going to give out soon.
He finishes the winding down run and stretches, waving at the cheering bleachers. While he absolutely is proud of this win and how hard he worked for it, he’s not looking forward to Coach’s feedback or the afterparty.
Even though he doesn’t normally mind parties – until everyone around him gets drunk, of course, and then he’s out. But right now all he wants is the comfort of his room – preferably without his roommate in it.
Just as his breathing finally seems to even out slightly, Madge comes up to him with her typical quiet smile, giving him a loose one-armed hug. “Congratulations,” she says.
“Thanks,” Peeta grins. From the corner of his eye he can see Hawthorne chatting with a girl who looks enough like him to be his sister. She punches him on the arm, laughing. “Thought you said you might not be able to make it for the match?”
“That was before I realized how important it is for your championship,” she says pointedly. Peeta doesn’t feel guilty – as much as he likes that one of his closest friends was here to see him, he didn’t want her to be obliged to. “Also before I learned Ryan couldn’t make it.”
Peeta clenches his jaw and looks away. “He cancelled on you again?” Madge prods gently.
Every Christmas, it seems like his oldest brother’s conscience makes an appearance, convincing him to try to make amends with Peeta after their awful childhood. And every time, he cancels in the end, either too scared or becoming uninterested.
“Yeah,” he says simply, not getting into it. Madge gives him an exasperated look. “I appreciate you being here, and I hope you enjoyed the game, but I have to go—”
“Without talking to your coach,” she points out, sounding incredulous. Having friends who know him and his schedule can be really annoying. “Besides, you can wait a minute. I want to—”
“No, I can’t,” he denies flatly, trying to sneak past her to the locker room and the glorious showers.
“God, you sound just like her,” she laughs.
“Who?”
“The person I want to introduce you to. Katniss—”
Peeta cuts her off. “Hawthorne’s girl?” His teammate is always talking about a girl called Katniss – or maybe one called Catnip, now that he comes to think of it. Either way, it’s an excuse to get out of here and this conversation. “No thanks.”
“She isn’t Gale’s—” Madge stops herself, but she’s blushing brightly. He studies her curiously, wondering why she’s so vehement about this.
“Mellark! Hawthorne!” Coach’s dulcet tones bellow. “Stop dawdling and get in here for discussion!”
Peeta makes a falsely regretful face at his friend. “Sorry, have to go.” He turns, ignoring her annoyed call, seeing his teammate make his own excuses to his friend, who’s rolling her eyes with crossed arms.
He doesn’t care to be introduced to some girl anyway.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Delly & Gale
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Delly doesn’t understand his concerns.
“You’ll be fine, Peeta,” she says good-naturedly – he doesn’t know if she’s capable of raising her voice. “Stop worrying.”
“Oh yeah?” He challenges. “How would you like it if you were told to something majorly out of your comfort zone? Like – commentate on a sports match?”
“I’d say I have enough experience watching your games to manage,” she replies calmly. “And keep your voice down, or we’ll be kicked out.”
“I can’t plan the fundraiser, Delly,” he broods, ignoring the admonition. “Cater, sure. But I’m a culinary student, not an event planner. And this is the winter gala! Haymitch will kill me if it doesn’t go well and we don’t get enough money.”
“Mr. Abernathy trusts you enough to give you the responsibility when his usual planner bailed,” she points out. “Why did they, anyway?”
“Something about her being really busy with school or something,” he mutters dismissively. His phone chimes in his pocket, and he pulls it out and groans at the text notification. “And the decorators keep nagging me about flowers. What the hell do I know about flowers?”
Delly perks up. “Ooh, I know someone who knows tons about flowers! You should check out Evergreen Dene! It’s basically a nursery, but it doubles as a florist’s too. Plus, the mother works as a herbalist.”
“That’s just way too much work,” Peeta says, impressed.
“Like your family’s bakery doesn’t cater and act like a dog café?” She asks, amused.
He pulls a face. “True.” He glances back at his phone. “Speaking of which, I have to pull a shift, Dad’s sick. Mind dropping in at the place you told me about and talking to them?”
“Oh, no,” she says quickly. “That’s your job, not mine. I already gave you the idea.”
“Come on, Delly,” he cajoles. “I’ll owe you one. A huge one. I don’t have the time to go all the way to. . . wherever it is.”
“The owner’s daughters go here,” Delly dismisses. “The older one can take you back home. You’ll probably like her.” Her face reddens and Peeta chuckles. “I mean – not like that! Tell her that you want to commission her family business, that’s all.”
“Every word out of your mouth makes it seem like a better and better idea,” he teases. “Why would she still be here anyway?”
“She’s a worse workaholic than you, I think. At least, that’s what Madge says and she’s her roommate.”
“Great, I’ll ask Madge to do it then,” he says in relief. She hits him with a book. “Respect, Delly, we’re in a library!”
“You can not be here anymore,” the library assistant looks very annoyed. “Out! Now!”
Giggling, the two of them gather their books and papers and laptops and high-tail it out of there, leaving the screams behind them. “She’s definitely louder than we were,” Peeta says annoyedly. “I can’t believe the hypocrisy.”
“I can’t believe you got us kicked out,” Delly says, but she’s smiling. “Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Go to Evergreen Dene and talk to them for me?” Peeta asks hopefully, and she nudges her shoulder against his harshly, but agrees laughingly.
Katniss can’t believe Gale was somehow lucky enough to wrangle a single room.
While Madge is light-years away from all the pictures of annoying, sadistic roommates she had built up in her head prior to meeting her when she’d gotten the room assignment, she still would’ve much preferred a single room, a space that could be all hers, where she could unwind.
At least home is close enough she can spend some nights there.
But she burns with jealousy that Gale – a scholarship student just like her, even if it’s athletic and not academic – has a room all to himself.
At least, as his best friend, she can commandeer it every once in a while. Especially when they’re working on a project together.
She turns her laptop towards him, pointing at the screen. He groans: “Just send me the link, Catnip. You’re going to make me need glasses at this rate.”
“Do you think adding a false alarm to the presentation is a good idea?” She questions. “Talking about a time when there was no problem is a bit counterproductive when we’re supposed to be presenting on biological weapons—”
“We need to talk about the procedure that is followed when there is one, so it’s a neat segue,” he brushes off, and she fights off the irritation that follows.
“Fine,” she snaps, deliberately pulling a bookmark out of a book she knows he’s just half reading.
“Hey!” He complains, grabbing it from her where she’s leaning back on his bed, having banished him to the chair a while ago. “Go annoy someone else!”
“Like Finnick?” She asks, rolling her eyes when he makes a face. Finnick had had the bad luck of befriending her when Gale had just been accepting that they would make a disastrous couple, which meant that her new friend had been the recipient of a lot of poisonous looks and disgruntled murmurs. Till date, Gale pretended he hated the sight of Finnick, despite getting along well with both him and his girlfriend.
“Get a boyfriend,” he scoffs. “Or a girlfriend. Whatever. Just stop bothering me all the time.”
“Sorry, weren’t you the one complaining we don’t see each other much now that we’re in college?” She says incredulously. “It’s why I came to your game, remember?”
“Because our lifelong friendship isn’t enough to make you come anyway,” he says petulantly.
“Sit and watch an hour of a game I don’t understand played by people I don’t care about – except you, obviously,” she adds when he makes an offended sound. “No thanks. Especially since afterwards Madge was continuously bemoaning how she couldn’t introduce me to someone I’d really, absolutely get along with and love – which, you’d think she’d have learned better—”
“Madge?” Gale asks abruptly, attention torn from the book he’d been trying to find his place in. Katniss raises an eyebrow, considering him. She’s rarely seen him so absolutely unnerved, especially by the mere mention of someone. He shakes it off. “Wait – there’s only person she’d want to introduce you to on the team. Mellark.”
She strains to recall the multiple conversations she and her roommate have had on this subject. It’s worse than Prim mooning over Rory, and she’s repressed them all too much. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Don’t,” he says sulkily, dragging her laptop towards him, suddenly interested in what she has to say. “Forget what I said. Don’t think about him, and definitely don’t get introduced to him.”
“Why not?”
“I said forget it! Look, maybe you have a point. I think it’ll be fine, but we should add the tests they did and how it mimicked that time at the police station in Manhattan where there actually was a bomb.”
She leans forward, looking toward where he’s gesturing. As interested as her best friend’s annoyance at even the implication of this guy and this waspishness he has towards him intrigue her, she has better things to do.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Prim and Em
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Prim presses her hands to her eyes, hard.
Maybe if she loses her vision for a bit and then regains it, this email will make more sense. Like rebooting.
“You alright?” Comes an amused voice, and she turns, plan foiled, to see Emmer Mellark, the head of construction for the renovations getting done. They’ve always seemed nice.
“No,” she grumbles lightly. “I am not made for dealing with this nonsense so close to Christmas.”
“What sort of nonsense?” They question.
“The kind where people who have never stepped foot in this place question its functioning,” she tells him, and from the way his lips purse, she knows he understands.
“It’s Seeder’s job to handle that kind of thing, isn’t it?” They ask. “I mean – no offense, but you look pretty young—”
Prim laughs. “I’m in high school. Aiming for pre-med. You’re right, I just. . .” She sighs, humour fading. “I’ve given Seeder enough bad news already today, I’m just—” She waves a hand to indicate her general state of mind without having to find words for it.
“It’s not your fault there’s bad news,” Em replies sensibly, swinging themself onto her desk. “Seeder seems like a good sort – I doubt she’ll blame you.”
“It’s more of a ‘I’d feel bad’ thing than a ‘I think she’ll blame me’ one,” she explains.
“Then I suppose you need to work on your guilt complex,” they smile, teasing cautiously. “Really, you remind me of my brother, he’s like that too. All taking on responsibility and everything.”
“My sister, too!” Prim says eagerly. “Constantly worrying about me. She’s the one who got me this job – she volunteers for SOP and the head of the charity—”
“Is friends with Seeder, yeah, I know,” Em finishes, surprising her. “My brother recommended me for some construction Mr. Abernathy needed done, and I guess he must’ve talked to Seeder or something.”
“So we’re both here pretty much from nepotism,” she concludes.
“I like to think I’m qualified,” they grin. “And from what I can see, you do a good job. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Prim Everdeen,” she replies, holding her hand out to shake. “No need to introduce yourself, I know who you are.”
“But maybe we should introduce our siblings, if your sister is as responsible and hard-working as you say.”
“Who’s to say your brother is all that you say?” Prim challenges.
“Peeta is in culinary school, on the soccer team, works in our family bakery, and volunteers.” Em says all this in a very matter-of-fact tone.
“My sister is double majoring in Environmental Science and Biotechnology, volunteers for SOP, tutors and works at the shop. She even goes shooting every now and then.” Prim grimaces. She hates how much her sister works to get her into medical school, and yet she can’t control the pride laced in her tone.
Em whistles. “We absolutely should get them together. Two hypocritical overworked idiots.” It’s only because they sound fond that Prim doesn’t snap to her sister’s defense. They hold their hands up, clearly recognizing her annoyance. “Look, here he is now.”
“Hey, Em,” a blond cheerful-looking man around her sister’s age calls, dropping a package on her desk. “Here’s your lunch. Dad wanted me to tell you that you need to knead the dough today evening.”
“Yeah, thanks.” They gesture at Prim: “This is Prim Everdeen, an intern here. This is my brother Peeta Mellark.”
“Nice to meet you,” Prim smiles up at him, and gets one in return. “My sister should be coming to pick me up any minute now.”
“You should stay and meet her,” Em tells Peeta. Apparently they’re going with transparency.
“Can’t, I have class soon,” Peeta shrugs. “Sorry. Later, Em. Nice to meet you too, Prim, I’ll see you around.”
He disappears as quick as he first appeared. Em shrugs. “Maybe another time.”
“Maybe,” Prim agrees doubtfully.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Finnick & Johanna
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
“Katniss, you’re in college,” Finnick cajoles. “It’s meant to be fun! The time of your life!”
“No, it’s meant to study so that you can have a decent rest of your life,” Katniss corrects, rolling her shoulders. The café is getting crowded – it’s typically sparsely populated, which is why it’s her usual haunt, but as Christmas approaches and decorations are put up it’s like there’s a magnet attracting people to even out of the way places.
“Aw, come on,” Finnick leans in and bats his eyelashes. It would work on anyone else, and even she isn’t totally immune, but she’s been his friend long enough to be able to muster an unimpressed look. “I’ll give you sugar cubes,” he offers, holding his palm out.
Katniss rolls her eyes, but can’t help smiling. He loves referring to how they first met. “I can get my own, thanks.”
“Come on,” he whines, stretching the last word. “I swear, even if you hate the party, you won’t regret coming!”
Another shriek permeates the air and Katniss sighs, snapping her laptop shut and standing up, leaving money on the table. “Why on earth wouldn’t I regret it? I’ve regretted every single informal gathering I’ve been to. The formal ones too, actually.”
“Because!” Finnick sounds ridiculously excited as he matches her stride easily. “I’m going to introduce you to someone you’ll love.”
Katniss stops short and stares at him. “For that, we’re going to your flat.”
Finnick’s flat is closer than the student hostels anyway. “He’s one of Johanna’s friends,” he continues, clearly not getting the hint.
“Yeah, because Jo and I get along so well,” she snorts.
“Don’t worry, he isn’t about to strip in front of you – unless you ask, I’m sure,” Finnick grins and she elbows him in the ribs. He doubles over, feigning great pain, but the coughs that come out as they board the elevator do not sound fake.
“You okay?” She asks, frowning.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he waves a hand. “Or I will be, as long as you agree to come to the party.”
Katniss sighs, but gives in. “Fine. I’ll come to your stupid party.”
“It’s not mine, it’s the frat’s!” He sounds pleased, but it’s ruined by another bout of coughs followed by a sneeze.
“Are you quite alright, Finnick?” Finnick’s brown-haired wide-eyed neighbour, a sweet girl called Annie Cresta who her friend is absolutely smitten with, asks in concern.
“Fine,” he assures, tripping over himself in his haste to answer. “What about you, Annie? Not that I’m insinuating you’re sick – you’re always fine. Not like that! I mean—”
“He means to ask what you’re doing tonight, because we’re going to a party,” Katniss cuts in with a smirk. Finnick glares at her before turning hopeful puppy-dog eyes onto his neighbour.
“I—” She chews on her lip, gaze darting between Finnick and the floor. “I’m not great at parties. Or anything involving socializing. Especially with—” She cuts herself off, and Katniss wants to ask, but she sees how her friend’s eyes soften, and decides not to interrupt.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Anyone who troubles you over a mental health condition isn’t worth your time.”
Her answering smile is just as soft. “It isn’t just that,” she explains. “I need someone to be there, to keep an eye on me too.”
“I’ll be there,” he volunteers instantly. It would be gallant, except that’s the precise moment he sways and his back hits the wall harshly.
“Finnick!” Both of them cry out, and Katniss reaches first, allowing her friend to lean on her. “Where are your keys?” She demands, reaching into the pocket he makes a weak gesture at and handing them to Annie to unlock the door.
He makes a weak noise as he collapses on the couch. Annie feels his forehead and frowns. “He’s running hot.”
“Have you had any symptoms?” Katniss demands. He hesitates and she makes an angry noise. “Finnick.”
He caves. “Headaches, and a bit of a cough. Didn’t think it would become this bad.”
She sighs. “Lucky we managed to reach here. I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Something small, please,” he requests weakly. Katniss gets everything for soup and bread, glad that Finnick is the kind of person who stocks his kitchen well and often. She takes bananas and a glass of water and a bottle of Gatorade back out, and has to hide a smile when she sees Annie stroking his cheek, both of them whispering.
She clears her throat, and Annie jumps, looking flustered. “I’ll, um, check on the food,” she mutters despite the fact that Katniss was just there and hurries off into the kitchen.
Katniss hands the banana and glass to him, perching on the arm of the couch. He’s blinking rapidly. “Want to go to the bed?”
“No, I can’t get up. I am the couch,” he declares dramatically. She laughs, flicking his forehead gently, scowling when she feels the temperature.
“I’ll get the thermometer,” she decides. “Don’t go to sleep before I take your temperature. And no, Finnick,” she adds, “We’re not going to the party, even if you miraculous feel better.”
“Pity,” Finnick says sleepily. “Then I’d have someone to tease you about the way you do Annie and I.”
She wants to tease him about the fact that there is an ‘Annie and I’ but the rest of his sentence needs a response first: “I very much doubt it,” Katniss scoffs.
“I don’t.”
“You know,” Peeta says idly. “Sometimes you scare me.”
“I should scare you all the time,” Johanna scathes with a flick of her hair.
“When you said you were doing axe throwing, I thought you meant people,” he admits with a laugh.
“That would be more fun, but I don’t think college management would go for that.” She throws a longing look at the range, as though imagining human beings in place of the targets. It sends a shudder down Peeta’s spine.
“So, why did I have to be here?” He clears his throat.
“Because you’re on a sports team, so you can convince the head to give this sport what it deserves,” she explains. “We don’t even have a separate range! We never get enough people for competitions!”
“Jo, I really don’t think I’ll be able to convince anyone of that,” he says doubtfully.
“Useless,” she scoffs dramatically. “Then I’ll have to talk to Brainless instead.”
“Brainless?” Peeta repeats, wondering if he’s heard it wrong. But she simply starts off with a determined stride. They move into the stone corridors of the sports centre, which is mostly deserted thanks to a lot of students going home for Christmas. “Are you seriously going to convince someone you call brainless to help you?”
“It’d help her too,” Johanna protests. “She and her hot friend shoot, and the college is as supportive of that as they are of axe throwing.”
“Which is to say not at all,” Peeta guesses.
“Exactly.”
“I hate to say this, but maybe not allowing random teenagers to throw axes and shoot is a decent idea,” he says tentatively.
“I don’t want random students to do it,” she replies impatiently. “I want them to give us a good coach, better apparatus and allow us to form teams.”
“That’s better,” he admits. “Okay, fine, I’ll help—”
But Johanna’s attention is elsewhere. “Hey! Brainless!” She calls harshly, and Peeta winces, following her line of sight to see a black-haired girl with a pile of books almost taller than her, who rolls her eyes at the call and deliberately turns away.
He catches his friend’s arm when she huffs and goes to follow. “Don’t,” he says quickly in an undertone. “I said I’ll help. Don’t bother—”
“You sound like her, the little shrew!” Johanna finishes the sentence in an excessively loud voice, and ‘Brainless’ fumbles all the books into one hand and makes a rude gesture at her. The awkwardness of it is endearing; clearly, she doesn’t regularly do it, which makes it a miracle that Johanna’s voice sounds almost fond when she talks about her.
“Come on,” he coaxes. “Let’s go to the sports master.”
“I want to talk to her—”
“Nope,” he steers her gently towards the office. “We’re not doing that.”
“Like you have any say in what I do, Mellark,” Johanna scoffs. “You’d love it if we talked to her anyway, you’d get along.”
“Well, we’re not finding out,” he says firmly.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Haymitch
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Haymitch’s house is too big.
He trails his hand on the banister as he walks down the stairs. He should probably sell it, but then he’ll have to go back to his childhood home – the one which is haunted by the ghosts of his family and girlfriend.
Yeah, on second thought, he’ll stay right here.
That there’s no other option doesn’t make Christmas in a big empty house any better. It’s the reason he started SOP and instituted the Winter gala in the first place. Students who can’t afford lodging can stay here, and the lower floors are used as a group home too.
But somehow, this year, it’s empty. Despite everything he’s done, all the changes he’s made, he’s right back where he started.
He sighs, walking over to the cabinet. Deciding this calls for the good stuff, he picks a bottle and a glass, pouring carelessly. The whiskey sloshes in the glass and he takes a large gulp.
“Haymitch?” Comes a call and he startles, hand going to the knife he always carries before he recognizes the voice.
Katniss Everdeen looks extremely annoyed – but then, that’s her usual state of being – as she rings the bell again, carrying a box and a bouquet. He opens the door, snapping, “Can you be any more impatient?”
“Could you be any quicker?” She snaps back. This is why she’s his main assistant in SOP. She doesn’t hesitate to yell at him, and she has the same views he does on a lot of things. Sometimes it’s like seeing a younger him with braids.
“Here,” she dumps the box on the counter with ill-grace. “Prim was upset when she learned you were going to spend the holiday alone. . . here.” She glances around with a distasteful look that would likely offend him if he didn’t agree. “So here’s some flowers and stuff to brighten up the place. Plus this.” She takes out a pot, with what looks like a succulent in it. “Try not to kill this one.”
“No promises, sweetheart.” As Katniss keeps unpacking the box with way too many plant decorations, he has to swallow. She can say whatever she likes about Prim, but this was at least partly her idea. She’s a softy on the inside.
In this, they differ. Obviously.
“Also, you can come for Christmas Eve dinner, if you want.” She doesn’t sound particularly thrilled offering.
“Will there be alcohol?”
“Probably,” she responds with a roll of her eyes.
“Maybe, then.” He sits on the counter.
“Will you hang these up yourself or do you need me to do that too?” She asks snidely.
“Since I’m allergic to work. . . Go ahead.” Haymitch grins. She makes a noise of disgust and drops the pot in his hands, telling him to keep it somewhere he’ll see every day. She works efficiently, decorating with the garlands and wreaths, and the house looks a lot brighter when she’s done.
“If you want a tree, you can get one at the nursery,” she tells him, taking the box again. “Not one of those ugly plastic ones, though.”
“Nah, too high maintenance.” He takes a sip of his drink, even if he isn’t as desperate as he was before. “Drink?”
“No thanks.” She makes her way to the side door.
At the same moment, a voice comes from the front door. “Haymitch? You in there? Open the door!”
Katniss throws him an incredulous look. “Does your bell even work?”
“If it worked, it’d encourage people to come here,” he explains and she snorts. “Wait up, that’s the bread boy. I’ll introduce you, he’s my best volunteer.”
“Second-best, you mean,” she says loftily as he makes his way to the door. “You want me to talk to the guy who can’t even plan the freaking fundraiser properly? The one I left all the notes from last year for? No way.” With that, she’s out right as Peeta comes in.
“Hey, I brought some bread—” He starts, but is taken aback by the sight of the hall. “Wow. This is. . . I thought you’d be drinking sadly in a corner, but this is great, Haymitch!” He sounds approving. Haymitch has to stop this at once.
“Someone else did that, actually,” he corrects. “She was just through. Real sweetheart, you’d like her. You might still be able to catch her if you go now.”
Peeta is a ray of sunshine – much too good for him, or even Katniss. But since Haymitch wants to brood alone, he’ll sacrifice the kid.
“You mean the other head volunteer? The one who said my posters were too informal? Who bailed last minute on the gala? No thanks.” He sets his basket down on the kitchen counter. “So, here’s some cheese buns, cookies, raisin bread, pear tarts—”
Haymitch shrugs, leaning against the doorway. Oh well. Their loss.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Peeta
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Are the chairs in the assembly hall meant to be uncomfortable?
Peeta shifts, trying to find a way to sit that isn’t too torturous. Like these things aren’t bad enough without the chairs trying to murder them.
“What are we doing here anyway?” Thom mutters under his breath.
“We’re here because attendance is compulsory and we don’t want to be kicked off the soccer team,” Peeta whispers back.
“Right,” Thom rubs a hand down his face. “I keep forgetting, because, you know, this is a nightmare.”
“Tell me about it,” Hawthorne glances around and sighs. “Look alive, dean’s coming.”
Everyone stands up as the dean enters the room and takes the podium. He starts on some long speech that enters and exits his ears.
“This is such a waste of time. Damn attendance, if it wasn’t for Catnip I wouldn’t be here,” Hawthorne balances his chair on two legs, causing annoyance in the row behind them and a certainty in Peeta that he is going to fall.
“What’s Everdeen going to do?” Bristel asks.
“You’ll see,” Hawthorne says boredly. “If we survive this talk.”
The next speech, by the international coordinators, is actually kind of interesting. Hawthorne still looks annoyed, probably because opportunities for scholarship students are a lot lesser than those for regular ones.
They clap unenthusiastically at the video describing the origin and functioning of their college and showing the sights. The photograph of them after a match does not cheer them up.
“Who okayed that?” Thom growls.
Hawthorne covers his eyes. “I can’t watch,” he groans.
Peeta elbows him. “Here’s another of you,” he says as a photo of him and a similar looking pretty girl appears, both holding trophies up. She’s wearing a slightly softened scowl, which means she displays happiness in the same way as his teammate.
“At least this is a better one,” Hawthorne sighs.
“Now for student performances!” The anchor declares.
Hawthorne sits up suddenly, alert. The rest of them exchange glances. There’s a dance by children that all of them feel obliged to applaud for, and a supposed comedy they do not.
Then the girl – Cat something, Hawthorne’s friend – approaches the stage, looking annoyed. She’s told something by the anchor and then forces her face into a smile that looks so painful and unnatural that he has to suppress his own genuine one.
She introduces herself: “My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m a third-year student at the School of Natural Sciences. Today, I’m going to sing the Valley Song.”
“It was suggested that she sing the school song, the first time she did this,” Hawthorne tells them lowly, laughter in his voice. “They didn’t make that mistake again.”
He might have said something more, but Peeta can’t hear it. As the music starts on the speakers, the look on Katniss’ face relaxes into something pleasant, almost sweet, but that is wholly eclipsed by the fact that when she opens her mouth and sings, it’s like heaven’s choir itself has come down.
It might have been a second, a minute, a week or a century before he’s able to tear his gaze off her and glance around, despite still being enraptured by her voice. All of his teammates look surprised and like they’re actually enjoying themselves – Hawthorne’s actually smiling! – but none of them look like their world’s been shaken like his is. Some of the other students have their eyes closed, are humming or tapping along, but they don’t look like they’ve heard the most beautiful thing in their lives.
His eyes are drawn back to her as though by magnets as she loops back to the first verse after the third – it’s ending. As she steps back from the mic and gives a little bob of her head to raucous applause, all Peeta wants to do is shout for an encore, find her and convince her to sing again, sing forever, maybe with just the two of them. . .
But at that moment Hawthorne gets up with the clear intention of leaving, making Peeta and Thom practically have to wrestle him into his chair, and she’s disappeared behind the makeshift stage.
“Any idea where I can find her?” He asks Hawthorne in as casual a tone as he can manage.
“Who, Catnip?” He asks, as though surprised she’s asked after. “Why?”
Peeta shrugs. “Just to tell her she sang well.”
“No clue – I know she had to leave early, but her schedule’s jam-packed, too much for me to know by heart. She might be even busier than me!”
Since Hawthorne was a sports scholarship student partly responsible for providing for three younger siblings, he very much doubts it, but he doesn’t say it, collapsing against the back of his chair in disappointment.
He wonders if he’ll ever encounter her again.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Katniss
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
The Christmas carols are starting to get annoying.
Well, not starting – they’ve been annoying for quite a while, but at this point she’s ready to pull her hair out.
Katniss scowls at the speakers, rubbing at her ear while careful not to dislodge her hair which is tied up at her neck precariously.
Only for Prim would she go out on Christmas eve, so close to midnight. She wonders if Haymitch is even still over at her house, as delayed as she’s been due to panicked crowds doing their last minute shopping.
If he isn’t, she’s going to kill him, she decides. It’s for him that she’s been sent out into the bitter cold on the day when all other cultures’ winter festivities are ignored.
Yet another person bumps into her. She grits her teeth to avoid yelling at unsuspecting, mostly innocent strangers. Through the throng, she spots her favourite ice-cream shop – one that appears to be blissfully near-empty.
Haymitch can wait.
Having ice-cream during the winter when she was already freezing made little sense. It doesn’t stop her from glancing at the offered flavours before deciding on her typical order anyway and heading up to the counter.
What does stop her is the total lack of money in her purse.
“Sorry, the card machine isn’t working.” The contrition on the worker’s face doesn’t help her. She breathes deeply, then nods and moves to go.
A gentle hand on her arm stops her.
She looks up at a blond man – the one she’d seen with Johanna only a few days ago – smiling tentatively at her. “I’ll pay for it,” he offers.
“I don’t need charity, thank you,” she replies politely, despite her sudden desperate need for ice cream (or anything that would prevent her sanity from slipping through her fingers).
He shrugs. “Not charity, per se. More. . . Christmas spirit. Besides, you can pay me back.”
She wants to say she doubts she’ll ever see him again, but something compels her to nod, to feel heat rising at the way his face lights up and the strand of hair falling into his forehead frames it.
“Want to join me?” It isn’t said with any expectation, as light and carefully chosen as all his words are.
She takes her cup, dragging the spoon over the yellow scoop, considering what to say. He doesn’t push, just turns to pay, and there’s a flutter as she watches him pay for hers as well.
“Why are you having ice cream now, of all times?” She asks, deliberately not giving him a reply.
“That tone of scorn is rather hypocritical,” he notes. “But I’ll answer anyway. Ice cream is better during the winter.”
She barks a laugh. “No, it is not!”
“Yes, it is,” he insists. “Everyone says summer is the best time for it, and maybe the coolness helps with the heat, but do you know what your body does when ice cream goes in? Produces heat to combat the cold. And when do you need heat?”
“Christmas eve, I suppose,” she says, amused.
“Almost midnight on Christmas eve,” he corrects, grinning. “Even more when you see the person who actually made one of those boring college functions actually fun.”
“I’ve never been told my singing’s enlivened anything,” she muses, heart fluttering a little.
He scoffs: “That’s perhaps the greatest sin ever committed. Your singing was beautiful, and even though the Valley Song is so slow, you made it amazingly fun.”
“Okay,” she says, feeling glad that her complexion is dark enough her blushes aren’t easily seen. “I’ll join you.”
His hand comes up just as the clock on the mantel rings twelve, brushing a little snow from her hair, making it fall out of the cap and the bundle it was in. “Merry Christmas.”
Katniss can’t help her smile. “Merry Christmas.”