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jennagill · 4 years

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Take a Shot at Love

Summary: Katniss is new in town and Peeta is her range guide. Now rated M.

Part 3 is written for @promptsinpanem in the 15 Days to Finish Your Fic (For Kika) Round. Parts 1 and 2 on AO3 here. They’re short if you missed them in ... checks notes... 2015 and 2018.

Yes. I told him yes. His face brightened into a warm smile at my acceptance. We agreed to meet at the Club but that doesn't stop the butterflies in my stomach while I get ready in my apartment.

Right now I'm struggling with what to wear. Practical over anything else. Closed toe shoes, high neck top, practical above anything else. I don’t want a rogue shell casing burning me. Besides, it's only a Sunday afternoon, right?

So it feels like a date, but I—and anything else in my head is blinded by the flash of someone’s daytime running lights outside my apartment. It’s just someone turning around but my eyes cut to the clock and I need to leave now. Long-sleeve turtleneck and vest with jeans it is, as I slide into my boots and head out the door. The drive over to the Capitol Hunting Club is mercifully short, compared to the growing list of questions in my head. I park and grab my bow and quiver with standard arrows before rushing inside.

The main showroom is packed. Who knew so many people wanted to attend this event? How am I ever going to find Peeta in here? My mind buzzes as I scan for his face when a gentle nudge from behind stops me in my tracks.

“Hey, found you,” he greets me with another one of those disarming smiles.

He’s definitely cleaned up well. Gone is the safety hue and in its place, a fetching shade that matches his eyes.

“Hey, uh yeah. This place is crazy busy. How'd you manage the day off from work?” I ask as my eyes roam the facility and catch a few familiar faces. “Looks like they have the whole staff on point here tonight.”

“I traded a coworker for a few Saturdays. It was quite the negotiation,” he pauses for a long moment, as if he is deciding something. “Ultimately though, I told him that I had a really special date,” he says as heat blooms across his cheeks.

“So this is a date, then?” I say with caution. “I wasn't sure, so I'm glad we have that clarified.” It almost sounds like a contract, rather than romance.

“It's a date if you allow it,” he stammers as his cheeks reach beet red before settling back into his normal skin tone.

I consider this, weighing my heart, body, and head on the matter. I can only imagine the confusion my face must show until I meet his eyes and the fog begins to lift. “I'll allow it, though...having a first date on Valentine's Day? What kind of omen is that?”

“Truth be told, Katniss, I've been wanting to ask you out for months but never worked up the courage until now,” he says quietly. “I’m not placing any special emphasis on the day, I’m just happy to be here, with you.”

Well that’s hard to argue. “Okay, well where do you want to start?” I try with a smile.

“Shoot first?”

“Pardon?”

“The pistol range, then the archery range, and then the meal?”

“Oh, I don’t… really know that much about pistols, my only experience with guns is the shooting we did the other weekend.”

“Oh I have a feeling you’ll be dead on with your aim and we can rent from the club too since I don’t own a pistol. I’ll run you through a safety briefing too.”

I keep considering his motives and his actions, if they are aligned or if I’m missing something as we move to the first station. It’s not much more than a series of door frames with walls in between, just enough for two people to stand closely with a shelf at waist height to place the weapons. I watch Peeta take aim at the ringed hearts on paper hung seven yards away. Blue, purple, and pink. Pop, pop, pop, goes my nerves and heart. The sound is too much on this indoor range with the pistols, even with the noise canceling headphones Peeta lent me.

“Your turn,” he gestures and shows me that the pistol is on safety and pointed down range on the shelf. He changes the target out for good measure too.

I take the pistol in my hands, forming the teacup he mentioned and squinting at the target. The cool steel chills me—I’m more accustomed to the warm bow wood. I flip the safety off and squeeze the trigger, taking a breath between shots. A crackle of electricity runs through my shoulders and spine as I finish my clip but it’s not the same thrill found in the woods. I take another glance at the target. All of the paper hearts are shredded.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Peeta asks in amazement.

“Thanks, though I think I’ll stick with my bow or trap and skeet,” I say, flipping the safety back on, placing the weapon down, and backing away from the shelf.

Peeta sends another series of shots down range but I’m done shooting pistols for the day. My fingers are itching to get back on a bow. I go over to the archery station for some sanity while Peeta returns the equipment to the rental booth.

Red balloons are attached to the various targets on the archery range with prizes inside. Peeta takes aim with precision and hits nearly all of them. The slips float down to the floor to be retrieved by attendants. “Bullseye! Have you been taking lessons?” I ask casually.

“No. I just replayed what you told me in my head, and well—I wanted to impress you.” A lopsided grin sneaks across his face and he shuffles his feet.

His honesty takes me aback. He says everything in such an offhand way and I am foolish to have suspected ulterior motives. “Well...it shows, you’ve improved a lot since the other day.”

He beams at the praise and then it’s my turn to shoot. The attendant notices that the standing balloon targets offer no challenge for me, so he releases balloons from a ceiling net I had not seen earlier. At first it seems stupid, but it turns out to be kind of fun. Much more like hunting a moving creature, albeit a slow-moving one. Since I’m hitting everything he releases, he starts increasing the number of balloons in the drop. I forget the rest of the range and this date and lose myself in the shooting. When I manage to take down all five balloons in one round, I realize it’s so quiet I can hear each prize slip hit the floor. I turn and see the majority of the people of the range have stopped to watch me. Their faces show everything from jealous to admiration, though Peeta’s face is the brightest of them all.

The attendant calls for cease fire and I retrieve my arrows and prize slips—gift cards for the Club store and café, mostly. We venture toward the cake and coffee bar set out for this event. I wrinkle my nose at the coffee but notice that they offer hot chocolate too. “Oooh, that cake looks amazing!”

“You should have a slice, I have it on good authority that it's delicious,” he says.

He's met with a raised eyebrow.

“It's from my parent’s bakery,” he shrugs with another disarming smile. “Red velvet cake, cream cheese icing, and dark chocolate shavings on top.”

And he’s not wrong. The dark flavors burst in my mouth, sending ripple effects down my spine. The cake and hot chocolate together give me a nervous energy, propelling me toward the next steps of this date. I feel like I could run 26.2 miles now, okay maybe just a half marathon. We both finish our desserts though I have something sweeter in mind.

“Will you walk me out to my car, Peeta?”

Like a gentleman, he does and he waits patiently while I put up my equipment in the trunk.

“Katniss, may I kiss you goodnight—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish because it’s me that leans in, answering his question with my own response. His lips are surprised but warm up instantly to me. His kisses are warm. His kisses leave me dizzy with want. Amazing kisses. Toe-curling kisses. I feel a swipe of his hot tongue in my mouth and I know that I need more.

He must feel the same way since he’s pulling me closer to him and kissing my jaw and neck, or what he can reach around my sweater. His body is so firm wrapped up with mine, something I’d like to explore more in private.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be goodnight,” I say to the sinking sun and feel him pause at the shell of my ear, “maybe we can—“ deep breath “maybe we could go back to my place?”

Peeta clears his throat and meets my eyes, “Really?” His eyes cut to the parking lot, realizing that we’re still in a very public place.

“Um, yeah, I don’t live far from here and you could follow me there, if you—if you want to, that is,” I manage, though my confidence is slipping.

“Heck yeah, lead the way!” he says and grins.

“Okay, right, well let’s go,” I say before I change my mind.

If I thought the drive over to the Club was short earlier, this one flew by, my mind racing at the scenario I’ve just proposed. We’ve made it back to my place before I can second guess myself any further.

He parks next to me and follows me to the door, “This is a great location,” he chatters as I unlock it, “I mean, it’s a nice place too,” and then he’s scratching the back of his neck, looking around my sparse apartment.

“Well… as you know, I haven’t been in town very long and it seems like I spend most of my free time out at the Club, trying to compete for your attention with others,” I shrug.

“Compete?“ he laughs and hides his face in his large hand for a moment. “You don’t have any competition anywhere, Katniss,” and this time, it’s him that leans in.

Our lips have barely touched when I ask, “Couch or bed?”

He pulls back to look at me and curls that lip of his under a set of very white teeth. “Honestly, Katniss, whatever happens, you’re calling the shots.”

“Right then, bed it is,” and I pull him into my bedroom.

We spend the next few hours teasing, tasting, and exploring as much of each other as possible since Peeta only has one condom with him. He makes it last though and thoroughly fucks me. My favorite part is probably his ass. I remember checking it out on that very first day, and it’s certainly ample to cup while trying to coax him deeper into my throat or dig my heels into it as I spur him to the orgasms that finally give our bodies peace. My mind wanders just before we drift off to sleep, I just hope he doesn’t have an early shift tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Thank you @papofglencoe for the encouragement and quick beta skills on this third part! It was fun to come out of semi-retirement!

#look out for a moodboard #everlark fanfiction #prompts in panem #skeet!everlark #I write stuff #for kika

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jennagill · 6 years

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Take a Shot at Love

Part 1 of the Skeet!Everlark drabble can be found here and here’s the second part. Look out for a third part next week! It’s a day late, but Happy Birthday @lifeisshiny, hope you like it! And many thanks go to @papofglencoe for encouragement and superb editing in a jiffy!

“You’re incredible,” he praises as I hit my twelfth consecutive shot.

“Thanks, I hunted back home,” I say.

“Strictly bow?” Peeta asks. There’s a taunt in his tone. He’s peeking out from his orange safety hat at me while I get into position at the next station.

“Yeah, why?” I return.

“No reason, just wondering if you ever handled a shotgun. I know it’s not as elegant as your recurve, but I’m kinda curious to see if you’re as good of a shot with other means,” he dares.

“Pull,” I say. One clay comes flying out of the high house, and I nail it dead center of the field. The second clay is released from the low house as soon as I’ve shot my first arrow. Rapport is harder than singles, but I like the challenge. I’ve been coming back to the range with an unsettling frequency. Mostly without Gale and when I know Peeta will be working at the skeet range. I haven’t made that many friends since moving to town, so it’s easy to fall into this routine with him.

“If anything, the ammo would be cheaper, how much do those special arrows cost?” he asks, a hopeful smirk planted on his face.

“Why—do you want to teach me, Peeta?”

“Well, I was actually hoping for a trade.”

He’s met with my raised eyebrow as I call for two more clays.

“I could teach you how to shoot a shotgun and you could teach me about archery,” he proposes.

I furrow my brows at him to call for two more, finishing my round. I hit the clays from both the low and high houses with ease. Maybe he’ll finally notice that I don’t actually need his tutoring and that I keep coming back for a reason that I can’t quite name.

“My shift ends soon, if you wanna stick around.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” I finish the circuit and force myself to vocalize the shooting tips that usually run through my head when I'm nocking the arrow, aiming, and releasing for my shot. I figure it will help him to hear and watch at the same time, before I put the bow in his hands.

“What do you want to do first? We should probably start at the standing range before graduating to skeet,” I say as we finish packing up at the skeet course.

“Baby steps?” he asks as he shucks his safety orange vest.

“An inanimate target is a hell of a lot easier to hit than a moving one.”

“Okay, well by that rationale…we should start you on the regular range too, with the shotgun,” he reasons.

I crinkle my nose, eager to beat him at his own game, but he has a point. I'm just ready for some action. “Better to begin on a level playing field, then,” I shrug.

He teaches me how to handle the long gun after a few demonstration rounds. He’s adorable in the way he fumbles for permission in getting the stock situated in the pocket of my shoulder. We’ve only ever shook hands before, so his touch is warming and a little more than distracting. The recoil takes a while to get used to, and the noise is deafening. I'm thankful Peeta has extra hearing protection. He motions more than speaks, since talking over the blasts is futile. I'm entranced by how much he can say without speaking a word.

I hand him back his Remington 870 after more than a few rounds and decent shooting. “Well I don't think I'm quite there yet for an official tournament, but I've got the hang of it. Are you ready for archery?”

We walk down to the other target range, and I grab a quiver of standard arrows from my car.

“Are you right- or left-handed?” I ask as we get set up at a station.

“Right.”

“Okay good, so am I—so this will be less awkward for you to learn. Do you know if you're right- or left-eye dominant?”

“With shooting skeet, you have to keep both eyes open—so I don't really know,” he says.

I test him for dominance by shielding one eye after the other and identify his best focal range. I find myself becoming a little fixated by his eyelashes in the process. I get his stance and form correct, and we begin.

“Here, hold the bow. Does that feel comfortable?” I ask, situating the bow in his arms.

“Yeah. Oddly enough, it does.”

“Pluck the bow string with your three middle fingers.”

He does as instructed—such a willing pupil. He handles the arrow and bow string with finesse. He pulls back on the string, and I realize it a second too late. My warning cry is just reaching my lips when Peeta releases the string.

Thwack. The string pops his left forearm, and a goose egg begins to form.

“Oof,” he says as he rubs on the inky bruise blossoming against his pale skin.

“I'm sorry! I know that stings. I usually wear a guard but I didn't think it would fit you,” I blush and continue my rambling. “Your arms are much thicker than mine.”

“S’ok, I'll be more careful,” he says and resumes his shooting stance.

“No, straighter, pull it tighter. And rotate your left arm out of range of the bow string,” I say, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.

His first few arrows fly way off course. We work together for a while, correcting his aim and bringing it closer to the center bullseye.

“Think after a few more lessons I'd be as good as you?” he asks after consistently hitting the lower right corner of the board.

I stifle a laugh, “Um, well…”

“I'm just joking, Katniss...I know I have a ways to go.”

Before I can object, my stomach emits a long growl. “Ah, I guess we've been at it a while, haven't we?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Would you like to grab a snack at the Club café?”

I nod and follow him into the building after stowing our weapons in our vehicles.

“So how did you come about this job here at Capitol Hunting Club?” I ask once we've settled at a table with our food.

“Well, I grew up working indoors, for my parents in their bakery. So once I graduated, I wanted to work outdoors. It's been a pretty solid job though,” he says and sips his drink.

“I can understand that—working outdoors. Gale helped me get a job with the state as an ecologist once I moved here,” I say and take a bite of my sandwich.

He nods and clears his throat, “Katniss, the club is doing a thing for next weekend, like with games and special themed targets. I was wondering—” he flounders for a moment and seems to gather his courage to continue. “Wondering if you would like to come to it, with me?”

I had seen the flyers posted inside the store when I purchased my pass for the skeet course earlier today. Ammo and Amore Mio. The gun range will feature special Valentine’s themed targets, and the archery range will have a Valentine’s themed balloon shoot. They're even offering a special lunch and dessert for the couples.

Couples. Are we a couple? I school my features from what I'm sure is a deer-in-the-headlights look into one of feigned indifference.

Peeta and I had wished each other happy holidays the other month, and I've been steadily coming to the range at least twice a month since moving here. Valentine's Day had snuck up on me, but I wasn't opposed to the idea of having something more with him. In the five months since I first met him, I've noticed things about him, but no… not a couple.

Not yet.

#everlark drabble #skeet!peeta #I write stuff

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