Work Text:
(Peeta Mellark - Age 17)
When Primrose was the Everdeen sister who slipped quietly into the kitchen that morning, his mind had jumped to all sorts of conclusions. Katniss attacked by wild dogs in the woods. Katniss lost in the woods amidst the snow that blanketed it in white and freezing to death. The reality was much kinder than that, thankfully. She had simply been up all night sick to her stomach.
Even though his first instinct had been to gather up some of her favorite cheese buns and a little of the leftover squirrel stew his dad had made the night before, it was a school day. Prim had calmly talked him out of it, telling him to wait until the afternoon, which he didn’t have to spend at the bakery today.
So here he was, quickly bundling up the buns and stew, as well as some of the tea they often shared. He hoped his contribution would help her feel better—he wanted to do more than bring her food, but he had no idea what else could help.
Once he had everything he needed and was bundled up as best he could be, he set off towards the Seam. He spent plenty of time at the Everdeen’s, so much so that their neighbors didn’t even bat an eyelash at his presence anymore.
He was almost at their front door when it opened, Prim waving him inside their small house. Mrs. Everdeen was preparing some of her herb mixtures in the kitchen. He headed towards her, pulling the food out of his bag and placing it on the table.
“Hi, Mrs. Everdeen, I brought a few things with me.”
“Good afternoon, Peeta, I hope you didn’t worry too much while you were at school,” she said, her hands working the mortar and pestle with ease. “Katniss didn’t have much of an appetite this morning, and she spent most of the day sleeping. She also had a fever overnight, but the last time I checked her, it was gone. I’ll start the tea and warm the stew if you’d like to go see if she wants to come down and try to eat something.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Everdeen,” he said, grateful that she had answered his unspoken questions. “I’ll go on up now.”
He was only ever able to surprise Katniss if she were sleeping—she slept deeply most of the time, usually only woken by the occasional nightmare of the mine explosion that had taken her father from them six years ago. Otherwise, she had told him once, his heavy steps would wake her as easily as they scared game away inside the woods. He’d improved slightly over time, but there were some things that just couldn’t be overcome.
For his part, he was pretty certain she could pick his gait out of the crowded hallways of the school. He, however, could never pick hers out, but he didn’t need to. There was just something about her presence that he’d always been able to sense. He couldn’t explain it; it just was.
The door to the room Katniss shared with Prim was wide open, her slight frame curled up on the bed, facing the door. At first he wasn’t sure if she was awake or not; her eyes were closed but there was a hint of a smile on her lips that belied her situation.
“Prim told me you wanted to come this morning,” Katniss said softly, her voice rough from a combination of her illness and the long sleep she’d had today. He knelt down by the bed, gently drawing her hands into his. She opened her eyes, gazing at him tiredly.
“I would have, if she hadn’t talked me out of it. She can be very persuasive, you know.” He smiled, remembering the story she had told him about how Buttercup the cat had become a permanent part of the Everdeen household. Katniss loved her sister and had a difficult time denying Prim anything—even the cat that she loved to hate.
“I know. I think she’s gotten better at it since you’ve been here so often.”
“I brought some food. Think you might be able to eat a little?”
“What did you bring?”
“Tea, some of my dad’s squirrel stew…oh yeah, and some bread, of course.”
“What kind of bread?”
“Oh, just some kind with cheese baked into the middle. I heard someone here likes that, though I can’t imagine who that might be,” he teases. He’ll never forget the first time he watched her eat one of those soft, pillowy buns.
She sits up, hindered by the lack of energy that comes with being sick. He stands, wrapping one arm around her and helping her to her feet, still holding one of her hands. They slowly make their way from the room towards the steps, him leading her, there supporting her.
It’s not easy for her to lean on someone else or be vulnerable, even when sick, but he’s glad it’s him that gets the privilege of being the one that she lets see her this way, the one that she trusts to keep her steady. The one she needs.