Work Text:
Peeta Mellark has a beard .
That's exactly what Katniss Everdeen, Panem County Parks and Recreation Employee (Forestry Division) thought to herself when the Director of the Parks Department Effie Trinket (who typified the exact kind of person who hardly ever would find themselves outdoors--see: three inch heels, elaborate headdress, and a wingback blazer) described the kind of guest they want attending the Parks Department Fundraiser Gala this evening.
"You know--strong, broad, burly. Someone with a beard. Bring a beard to the gala," Effie said brightly, as if coining a slogan.
Katniss confusedly ignored the snickers of her coworkers while she tried to tell herself that it was simply the last item on the list, and not the three antecedent descriptors, that made Katniss think of her friend. Because yes, he was strong (evidence: several occasions she has personally witnessed of him chucking 100lb bags of flour, and one frequently recalled occasion where he did the same thing to her when they got a little drunk at her uncle Haymich's backyard bbq) and yes, he was broad (evidence: see prior evidence) and yes, he was burly (addenda: isn't that sort of synonymous with broad?), he also had a beard. Not for his genetics' lack of trying, mind you. For as long as Katniss had known her friend (15 years if you counted it from her end, 20 from his) and as long as he could reasonably called of shaving age, Peeta's beard had been, to put it finely, patchy. It grew in uneven tufts, leaving gaps the precise shape and size of Katniss' index finger (not that she had ever had the opportunity to test this) around his cheeks and mouth. But, when Peeta had taken over the bakery, a combination of stubbornness and genuinely barely having the time to shave led to a scruffy, slightly reddish, but undeniably full beard that made her friend look, if it was even possible, even more rugged and handsome.
Katniss blushed as her thoughts wandered without her permission. She had always thought Peeta was handsome--in high school, where she didn't think he even knew she existed, in community college where they became friends because they were the only familiar faces around, to now. Thinking he was handsome was free and legal and something she would keep entirely to herself. The little crush she had on him was almost certainly unrequited. Peeta was outgoing, cheerful, funny, wise, and artistic, whereas Katniss, while she had renowned outdoors abilities (including but not limited to: hunting, fishing, trapping, tracking, kayaking, paddleboarding, archery, firestarting, fire-putting-out,) was at the best of times an acquired taste. And yet they texted nearly every day, had a weekly dinner, and coffee at his bakery whenever she dropped by, which was most days.
She realized from the en masse scraping-of-the-chairs that the meeting had ended while she'd been lost in thought. The rest of the parks' staff left the meeting room, each of them making jokes about inviting 'a beard.' From the way they spoke about it, Katniss figured it must have been a term she wasn't familiar with. Personally, Katniss thought Effie's ask was ridiculous; people already associated the outdoors with Paul Bunyan-looking guys, and not with women, queer people, people of color, people with disabilities, and so on. But she knew her director was angling to have lumberjack-lookalikes there to draw corporate sponsors whose money would be taken and given to people who usually didn't get to go outdoors. That didn't mean she had to like it.
She told all this to Johanna, her deskmate, who shrugged and said "Of course Effie's gonna go with the safe bet, brainless. She needs the Open Parks Plan to sell to white dudes with outdoor companies and too much money. She's crafting a narrative."
"Don't say 'crafting a narrative' you sound like an ass."
Johanna flicked her ear. "Point is, you know she wants to get money for equipment and services so everyone can enjoy the parks. And you know she doesn't like how she has to do it, either. So cut her some slack."
"I know," she grumbled. "I know it's not her fault. The whole thing just rubs me the wrong way."
"Sounds like you need to be rubbed the right way. Speaking of--"
"For fuck's sake, Jo, we're at work--"
"--you should invite lover boy."
Katniss' ears went red. "Who?" she asked innocently.
"You know. The man with the golden buns. The man with the flan in his pants. The hot baker."
Katniss sputtered. "That last one's not even a pun."
"Ovens are hot, I don't know. Point is, he's got a beard," she said, pointing to one of three photos on Katniss' desk--of her and Peeta at one of Panem County's parks. Another was of her sister Prim in her doctor's jacket, and the third was of her and her parents when her dad was still alive in a canoe, Katniss all of age 5 with two braids.
"He's not outdoorsy at all . Whenever we go on a hike, he makes so much noise."
"Brainless, hunting and hunting abilities are not the only metric of outdoorsness. Y'all go on hikes like, what, once a week?"
Katniss sighed.
"Either way, Effie told us that we have to bring someone outdoorsy to pad out local attendance, or else we volunteer ourselves for park cleanup after the end-of-year ice cream social for the middle school," said Johanna, smirking at Katniss' open-mouthed look of fury. "So either ask baker boy, make a new friend before the gala, or get ready to be picking chocolate sauce out from under your fingernails for the next month."
Katniss avoided mentioning the gala to Peeta until two days before. By then, it had become clear that Effie hadn't been making idle threats; already everyone in the department had found someone who either looked like or actually did spend a lot of time in the outdoors to acclaim how great the Panem County Parks Department was to outdoor gear manufacturers and water bottle companies whose donations they needed to keep everything afloat. She was absolutely sure he would say yes, in part because the bakery would be closed the day after the gala, and as a single small-business owner, he was short on nights out with free food and drink. That, and he had an endearing, irritating habit of always doing her whatever favors she asked.
Still, that didn't prevent her from absolutely shredding her croissant to bits at their little table (it wasn't their table it was just the table they always ate at in the kitchen when she came to visit) until Peeta said "So either you particularly dislike my baked goods today, or just that one, or something is on your mind."
Katniss' hands stopped. "Sorry," she said guiltily.
"I only was up at 3am making them but no worries," said Peeta cheekily. Katniss rolled her eyes and took a large, exaggerated bite, the comedic effect of which was marred when her ironic groan of appreciation lost its irony.
"Oh god, is that gouda?"
"Perfectly good opportunity lost to say 'oh, gouda,'" said Peeta, the tips of his ears going pink.
"Did you make these for me?" asked Katniss.
"Please, as if you're the only one in the world who likes cheese and bread." But Katniss did notice that he didn't say no, and that the cheese croissants hadn't been out for customers, and her heart did that dizzying flip-flop it did whenever Peeta did anything sweet and kind and shy for her, and it was with the memory of his long list of sweet and kind deeds for her that she began to ask for a favor.
"So, you know the gala on Sunday night."
"You may have mentioned." Katniss began to fidget with the croissant again and Peeta muttered "chrissakes, stop --" and before she could blink he had laid his hands over her own to stop the continued desecration of his creation. She stared at their hands and then at him, and hoped to god she wasn't blushing as hard as she felt. They both pulled their hands back quickly.
"So the gala," said Peeta in an odd, strained voice.
"Yeah, so, okay, Effie really wants us to bring someone and she said if we didn't, then we'd have to clean up the middle school ice cream social, which--I don't know if you've ever seen what middle schoolers can do to and with and powered by free ice cream but it puts most college parties to shame, so--" Katniss realized she was rambling, and said rambling was causing Peeta to stare at her with growing concern. Lest she be considered unhinged by her closest friend, she took a breath. "I was wondering if, you know, you'd be my beard."
At first, Peeta just stared at her. He looked surprised, and even, if she didn't know any better, slightly sad.
"Sorry, I know it's the day before a day off, and you probably don't feel comfortable--"
"No!" said Peeta quickly, and all traces of what seemed like sadness or reluctance were gone. "No, definitely not uncomfortable, just--"
"It would really be helpful," said Katniss quickly.
"I mean, yeah, of course, I can be your beard. I--" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't know you needed one, is all."
Katniss huffed. "I mean, I feel bad dragging you. I probably won't be much fun because I'll basically be on the clock, and the whole thing feels so fake."
"Is there someone you'd rather take?" he asked, looking at her thoughtfully.
"Honestly, I'd prefer to skip. But if I have to have someone there, I'd rather it be you."
Peeta nodded. "In that case, I graciously accept your offer and will allow you to drive me home."
"We're walking , thank you. I'm not paying for valet parking."
They joked about how Katniss' beat-up Toyota would look among all the corporate mobiles, and whatever strange tension that had emerged from the conversation loosened and evaporated. She shared details--time, place, dress (black tie or as close as possible) When Katniss was leaving, Peeta called to her from the register.
"I'm--honored that you chose me to be your beard."
Katniss smiled, and wouldn't stop smiling all the way home. Maybe it was silly, maybe it was a little selfish, but an evening of fancy dress with a handsome man on her arm sounded like maybe it wasn't going to be too bad.
Katniss resisted the urge to sit down on the curb outside the venue and itch at her ankles. The tape she wore to make the dress boots fit was cheap and sticky and made the back of her heel itch like crazy, but there was a stream of dignified (read: rich) looking attendees entering the town's convention center, and she didn't want to get a manners talking-to from Effie.
Peeta had texted that he was a minute away about ten minutes ago. She stared around the flood of people, trying to spot his blonde hair. She saw some of her coworkers walking in, talking or arm and arm with guests, and she felt just the tiniest bit annoyed that Peeta was late and contributing to the impression that she'd been stood up. Assuming that she actually hadn't been stood up. She checked her phone again.
If you stand me up I will hunt you down for making me wear boot tape for nothing. She waits to see the telltale ellipses that say Peeta was penning a pithy reply, but nothing. She sighed and put her phone in her clutch. Her dress didn't have pockets, which, typical, but it wasn't the worst. It was a knee-length green dress with a scoop backline. She had been bold and opted for a strapless, backless bra, which was currently digging into her ribcage and causing her to consider calling Peeta like a spurned lover and asking where the hell he--
"Sorry sorry!" called a voice, sounding slightly out of breath.
Katniss turned and saw her friend looking like a goddamn Disney prince--tall and broad in a black tuxedo, his beard (his beard! ) looking like it was glowing, as was his shiny face.
"My leg literally broke," he said.
Peeta, like most of the people in Panem, didn't have amazing health insurance; his prosthetic was old, and prone to mechanical failure. "Why didn't you tell me?" asked Katniss, feeling guilty for her annoyance.
"Ah, I spent like ten minutes trying to get it fixed and then didn't even realize what time it was." Peeta huffed. "Anyway. Sorry for the delay. You look beautiful, by the way," he added simply.
Katniss was flustered; Peeta had always complimented her, but never by calling her beautiful, never so boldly. "Thanks," she said nervously. "You look handsome."
Peeta tugged self-consciously at his tuxedo jacket. "Thank god for Rye's in-laws and their black tie wedding."
They moved to the back of the line and Peeta leaned close to her.
"Remember, we're meant to be madly in love, so you can kiss me anytime you like."
The remark was so unexpected, so ridiculous and flirty and sudden that Katniss snorted, coughed, and laughed all at once, feeling so red that with her green dress she looked like a Christmas tree. Peeta gave her a bemused look but chuckled along with her.
The inside of the convention center was transformed. Usually the venue for local political meetings and the odd AA gathering, Effie had turned the space into a sleek, modern affair. Bow-tied waitstaff poured glasses of champagne. Mini crab cakes circulated on trays. Everyone looked sleek and fancy and well-off. Katniss had never felt more out of place. She clutched Peeta's arm. "Don't go far from me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Peeta. "These people scare me."
A waitress materialized in front of them. "Champagne?" she said, staring right at Katniss with wide, intense eyes. She had red hair and sharp, clever features.
"Oh, uh--" said Katniss, forgetting for a moment that one always accepted free drinks.
"Thanks," said Peeta. The waitress tossed him a smile quickly before locking eyes with Katniss again as he took two glasses. Katniss felt a little relieved when she disappeared to accost Johanna.
"She was cute," said Peeta, looking after her.
Katniss frowned. "Yeah, if you like starers."
Peeta laughed. "Fair, not your type, huh."
Katniss' frown deepened. "What, is she yours?"
"Well, I would guess I'm not her type," said Peeta, rubbing the back of his neck.
Katniss snorted. "You're everyone's type," she said without thinking, and then, to stop the flow of words from her mouth, she filled it with one glass of champagne, and then the next.
"I'll wait for the next one," said Peeta, amused.
They circulated the party while Katniss turned the remark over in her head. It wasn't that out of the ordinary, she thought. They sometimes pointed out people they found attractive, though it was usually in a vague way, like when they watched TV or teased each other when they got hit on at bars. It was a harmless remark. Still, it rankled her, and she pretended not to hear several of Peeta's little bantery remarks until she cooled off and began to enjoy herself again.
They found themselves talking to a frightening woman from a knife company named Clove. She was asking Peeta about what types of knives he favored for the outdoors. Katniss stayed quiet, enjoying Peeta trying hard to cover his total lack of knowledge. Clove kept throwing Katniss sharp, up-and-down glances. Katniss scowled and tugged at her dress. Not everyone could wear designer clothes and perfume (though even Katniss had to admit, the woman smelled spectacular.)
When she left, Peeta exhaled. "She was scary."
"I was pretty sure she was going to offer to show you her knife work on you," said Katniss dryly.
Peeta laughed nervously. "She was pretty."
There it was again--that leading, tentative tone of voice. As though he expected Katniss to agree with him. Katniss stared at him as he began to blather on about knives, the tips of his ears going pink. Once was fine, but twice? She had put on a nice dress, she was wearing a goddamn uncomfortable bra, and here was Peeta blatantly flirting with other women and checking them out and asking her to agree with him like this was a fun game, like she wasn't also a woman.
"Yeah," she said icily, and gulped at some more champagne.
As far as she could tell, the evening was going well. The corporate sponsors were enjoying themselves, Effie was aglow with the rapture of an event gone well. Her coworkers were there, and Katniss was just tipsy enough to find them enjoyable rather than simply tolerable.
The only problem was Peeta. Somehow women kept coming up to them and somehow he kept remarking on how they were so friendly, so nice, so sweet. So pretty . It was getting more and more unbearable. She kept staring at him, aghast. She'd never seen him like this. Was this his way of telling her he knew she was interested, and he wasn't? Was her little crush so transparent? Even if it was, it was a heartless, thoughtless way to go about it.
Eventually, she tried slipping away, but Peeta, loyal dog that he was, trailed after her. "Where are we off to?" he asked.
"I need to sit down," she muttered.
"Yeah, me too." he said, collapsing in a draped plastic seat.
Despite her annoyance with him, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. He'd been working all day, his leg was probably sore. "We can go," she said, by way of giving them both an exit ramp for this terrible evening.
Before he could reply, he got a text. He glanced at it quickly and put his phone away.
"Who was that?" She meant to ask casually, but it came out snappish. But Peeta, used as he was to her occasional black moods, didn't read anything into it.
"Delly," he said.
Another woman. But of course. Maybe even one from the party who'd given him her number when Katniss wasn't looking. "Who"
"Delly? You remember, from high school? She's in the area for a few weeks, thinking of moving back. You really don't remember her?"
"Not really? I wasn't in her circle."
Peeta nodded. "You'd like her. She's nice."
Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say--
"Pretty," he added.
Katniss stood up. "For fuck's sake," she said, and began stalking to the exit.
"Wait, Kat--shit," said Peeta, trying to rise as quickly as her. She knew this and, though she felt terrible to do, it broke into a trot, but forgot that she was in heavy boots and running in them was a bitch. Peeta caught up to her as she darted through a fire exit into the alley.
"Katniss, wait--"
"Leave me alone," she said, pulling away from him, her voice cold. She couldn't bear to look at him. She was so angry and hurt and disappointed, but most of all, she just felt foolish and small, and for the first time, she didn't want to Peeta to see her like that.
But when he pulled her by the arm to face him, she couldn't resist. Weak. She was so weak.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I was--I was trying too hard. I know you're not comfortable at these things and--"
Katniss barked out a laugh. "And, what, you decided to flirt with every woman in there? Like that was going to make me more relaxed? I mean, god, I'd introduce you to Johanna but she's gay, so you'd be shit-outta-luck there." Katniss rubbed her face hard. She could feel the words bubbling up like the champagne she'd made liberal use of, words she'd never say in sober circumstances. "God, I was so excited for tonight. I thought, hey, cute dress, cute date with a beard, maybe--and then you've been such a jerk all night drooling over everyone in there." Katniss couldn't bear to look at Peeta so she stared down at her boots. She could see the tape on her feet, which just made her feel worse. "Like, fine, okay, you're not interested. But you could have been nicer about it. You could have let me down easy. You didn't have to humiliate me when I'm working and trying to have a nice time, and--" She looked up, expecting to see Peeta contrite, or even angry.
Instead, he just looked so supremely confused that she snapped "What?"
"Katniss," he said slowly. "What do you think the term 'beard' means?"
"What?" She couldn't believe, of all the things she'd said, that was what he wanted to ask.
But he was serious. "What do you think it means?" he asked in a strained voice.
"Like, a guy with a beard," she said, gesturing up and down Peeta.
Peeta nodded slowly, his eyes wide. "Alright. Okay. So. That's actually not what that means."
Katniss shrugged her shoulders violently. "Okay, so? What does it mean?"
Peeta cleared his throat. "Ah. Well. So. A beard is someone of the opposite sex you pretend to date because you're not out."
Nearby, a dog barked. A car honked a horn. Someone shouted something, but Katniss couldn't tell what. For a moment, all Katniss could hear was a tinny, whining sort of noise in her ears. "What?" she asked weakly.
"And so, when you asked--I thought you were coming out to me, and that you needed--I mean, you asked me to be your beard --"
"Oh my god," said Katniss, her heart racing. "Oh my god ."
"So I was--I mean, I was saying those women looked cute for you , and I felt bad because I was worried I was pushing you too much when you weren't out--"
"Oh my GOD! " Katniss groaned loudly into her hands. "Effie said--"
"Effie is sixty years old and thinks the internet is a physical thing. How did you not know what that meant?" asked Peeta, beginning to giggle nervously.
"I don't know, I'm not online! Johanna doesn't use slang, she's just explicit as hell!"
"You have other gay friends--Gale is bi!"
"Oh my GOD !" Katniss groaned again and sat down on an upturned milk crate. She covered her face with her hands. She was so embarrassed she was currently pleading for the universe to devour her whole, but the universe only let Peeta sit down beside her.
"So all those women--"
"Were absolutely, 100% checking you out," supplied Peeta. "That Clove woman actually gave me her number to give to you."
"Delly?" she asked through muffled hands.
"Moving back home. Because she broke up with her girlfriend. You remember, Delly? Started the LGBTQIA+ club in high school?"
"Goddamnit," said Katniss into her hands. The fire door opened briefly as someone dumped trash into the dumpster, and the sound of the gala wafted over before it closed again.
"You know," said Peeta, and she heard a smile in his voice. She peeked through her fingers to see him grinning at his feet, one in dress shoe, the other a blade. "This makes me feel a tiny bit better."
"Oh?" she asked sarcastically, taking refuge behind her hands.
"Oh, definitely. See, I thought, when you asked me to be your beard --" Katniss groaned again "--that you were coming out to me as a way of letting me know that you knew I was interested in you, and that you were definitely, totally, not interested in me."
Katniss froze. She peeked through her fingers. Peeta had his arms crossed and was grinning at his feet.
"And, like, if you had been, that would have been fine. More than fine. But I'm not going to lie that a tiny, selfish, shitty part of me wasn't the littlest bit sad. Because then my silly little crush on my best friend would have been entirely one-sided."
Katniss took her hands away from her face. Of all the ways she had ever expected to confess her feelings for Peeta--on her deathbed, or in hospital, or over coffee when she just blurted it out--this was certainly not one of them. But, from what he was saying--
"And then, I felt horrible . Like, you had just come out to me, and all I could think about were my own feelings. I was so selfish. So I decided, then and there, that I was going to show you how much I supported you. I was going to be your wingman tonight." Peeta grimaced. "But even though I was so happy for you, it was hard. Because I was so heartbroken."
Katniss wasn't sure what he was saying. Or, she was, but she needed to be sure. She needed him to look at her. "Peeta?"
He looked up, his beautiful face, his blue eyes, his beard --
She leaned forward and kissed him. In case it was all a mistake and he was teasing her, or she was dreaming, or a million other things.
But it wasn't any of them. It was just the one, and Peeta kissed her back.
Eventually she had to come up for air. "Your kisses are bristly," said Katniss faintly.
Peeta grinned. "Blame the beard."
"Never," she said, leaning forward again to kiss him senseless.