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nordicmuse · 6 months

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Down by the River - Astarion x Tav Romance/Sm!t

After Astarion is shamed for what he is, he and Tav find themselves confronting the dynamic of their relationship, and if it can even be that.

Fading embers crackled as the group sat around the dying fire. It was late, and conversation had dulled to the occasional mumble about stiff muscles or the notice of a previously looked over wound. Tav stifled a yawn as she lazily spun a dagger between her fingers, having now cleaned it of goblin blood and polishing it until it shone her worse-for-wear face in the firelight.

Shadowheart rolled her head on her shoulders and sighed as an unpleasant pop sounded. Tav winced. To her right, Gale was nursing a sore knee, courtesy of a bad tumble, and sat with it out sideways, wrapped for support. They’d taken a hell of a beating today, but they were alive - more than what they could say for some of the druids and tieflings. Guilt still weighed heavily there it seemed.

Shadowheart stood on stiff legs and sighed, breaking the silence. “Well, I don’t know about the lot of you all, but today’s kicked my ass. I’m turning in.”

Tav opened her mouth to speak, but the rustling of leaves silenced her, making her palm her dagger. She relaxed as a mess of white hair pushed through the bushes and Astarion stepped into camp. His shirt was torn and bloodied from the day’s events, both his and slain foes alike, but where earlier they had browned as they dried, fresh bright splotches scattered amongst them. They were minimal, but undeniably there. He’d been feeding.

“Welcome back. Not that we noticed you were gone,” Shadowheart teased.

Gale rolled his eyes. “Must you go and do that while the rest of us are awake? We don’t exactly care to see-”

“Gale!” Tav whisper-shouted. She flashed apologetic eyes towards the vampire spawn.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “No, please, let him go on. You’re so very charming. I accept, but with a request of my own. You can’t eat in front of me either. Have to play fair, after all, and it’s hardly kind to rub it in that what I used to enjoy can’t sustain me anymore.”

“You should know to just ignore him by now,” Shadowheart chided him.

“Or better yet,” Astarion continued, “You eat whatever you want at any time, but if I see a speck of gravy on your shirt or a stray crumb, I’ll remind you just how inconsiderate you are.” His smirk did nothing to hide the pair of stained, elongated teeth at either corner of his mouth.

“You are vile,” Gale berated, raising awkwardly to stand on his bad knee.

“Hmf. Suppose that you are entitled to your opinions.”

“It’s not a huge favor to ask that you keep those monstrous tendencies to yourself. Though you clearly had no problem making it Tav’s prob-”

“That is enough!” Tav shouted, bolting to her feet. She pointed an admonishing finger at Gale. “You’re going to lecture him about what he eats when I had to watch you consume a pair of boots just yesterday? For fuck’s sake, find something better to gripe about!” she hissed.

“And you!” She turned to Astarion. “Learn when to walk away!”

A pregnant pause fell over the group as she stared them both down.

“Tav is right,” Shadowheart said. “We need to stop bickering. We’re all complicated. No use in pointing out what makes it different.”

Astarion glanced down at Tav, then brusquely averted his gaze. “Suppose you’re right. Now, if there’s nothing else to be said, I think I’ll be changing into fresh clothes and turning in.” As he stepped away, Gale scoffed to himself. Tav watched as Astarion hesitated that half-step, sighed, and continued to his tent.

Shadowheart and Gale excused themselves as well, but Tav stayed by the fire, sitting on her bedroll. Thoughts consumed her. Why were people so vile to him? He hadn’t hurt any of them. She grimaced. Well, not exactly. But she had let him. Of course she was aware that he had snuck up on her that first night. But she had offered himself to her freely, once the shock had passed. And, try as she might, she couldn’t convince herself that he would have fed from her if she had never stirred or simply refused. He tried to deny it at every turn, but that glimmer was there. Humanity.

And it made it all the damn more conflicting when she had offered herself to him again. And again. And again.

There was no denying it. She couldn’t hide the bruising or puncture marks on her neck, and she was admittedly lethargic the day following a feeding, but seeing him so rejuvenated made it somehow worth it. It didn’t make any damned sense. Why was she sacrificing herself for someone people saw as a monster? Probably because she didn’t see him that way at all. Not anymore.

And then something strange happened - Astarion had reeled her into a conversation about that fateful night, talked about how it seemed to have awoken an appetite (though he swore he had no intention of feeding off of Gale of Shadowheart), and being his musing, hypothetical self, he had asked her who she would feed off of if she were like him. And the answer came a bit too quickly. You. He’d laughed it off with thanks for the flattery, but she realized she had admitted something deeper than that.

Tav looked up from the all but extinguished fire, barely an ashen glow. Lanterns were snuffed out around the campsite, but the full moon illuminated the woods in a pale glow. She stood, muscles aching and face still stinging from the slash it had taken across the bridge of her nose and down her cheek today. She told herself she was just taking the long way around to her tent. It wasn’t her fault that it passed his. Besides… she wanted to check on him.

Her hand fell to the tent flap, hesitating as she was unsure of how best to get his attention when knocking wasn’t an option and she didn’t want their other companions to hear her call out to him. She pulled the tent flap back.

“Looking for me?” a saccharine voice whispered. She turned to Astarion’s tall frame leaning against a nearby tree, and dropped the flap.

She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry-”

“Hush,” he said, a finger to his lips. He crooked his finger, beckoning. “Let them sleep. If you want to talk, I suggest we wander off some.”

She nodded, following him down a winding path to the riverbank, where the steady flow of water sang, drowning out their conversation.

“What were you doing out? I thought you were going to bed, too.”

“I could accuse you of the same. But if you mean to ask if I was feeding, then no, so you needn’t worry.” Defensive malice dripped from his words.

Her heart stung. Was he accusing her of being appalled? “You know I don’t care about that - not in any bad sense. So then what were you doing?”

He leaned back against a large boulder, arms crossed over his chest. “Thinking. I might be able to be in daylight now thanks to our little passengers, but I’ve been a dark dweller for hundreds of years. It’s oddly comforting once you’re used to it. A monster can hardly change its true nature,” he bit out.

“You’re not a monster.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t get to decide that! I let you feed off of me. Why would I let you do that unless I gave a damn about your wellbeing? When I know you can survive off of animals, yet bare my neck and let you take from me?”

He averted his eyes. “I never meant to insult you.” He stepped away from the boulder, staring into the black water. “But even I have to admit that you’re a puzzle I can’t solve.”

“It’s not a puzzle, Astarion. I just… I just want you to be okay,” she admitted, surprised by her boldness.

“I’ve survived how many more lifetimes than you, darling girl? I’ve managed,” he quipped.

You feel it, too. You have to…, her mind wondered.

Tav stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Astarion’s arm. “You might actually believe you’re a monster, or maybe that’s what you tell yourself to prepare for the inevitable storm of assholes that can’t see past their own prejudices. But I’m telling you what I see, and that has to be worth something.”

He turned, red eyes locking onto hers. “And what is that?”

Had her chest been heaving this hard a minute ago? Her breath stuttered. “I see you.”

His eyes fell to her lips, she shook with anticipation. Was he wondering what it would be like to close that gap just as much as she was? Her hand fell to his arm again, trailing down to his fingers as she locked her hand into his. Was he shaking? Yes, he was undoubtedly glancing between her eyes and lips, torn in the middle of a decision. One she wanted so badly to make for the both of them - but he needed to be the one to decide. To be allowed to choose for himself.

After what felt like many moments of empty promise, she pulled back, her hand leaving his. As she turned away, his eyes widened, like the loss had panicked him. He grabbed her hand and stared at her, uncertainty in his red eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” And she meant it, by every definition.

He pulled her body against his, lips crashing onto hers with fervor. His hands cradled her neck as he backed her against the nearest tree, all semblance of his self-control lost. Good. She didn’t want it. His tongue searched for hers, a different kind of ravenous, and he groaned pleasurably as she wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into his hair. His kisses trailed down her neck, hesitating at the marks he had left on her. He needed to be distracted from where his mind was returning to.

She used her leg to pull him flush into her body, an unmistakable hardness pressing against her. Both gasped at the contact. Her hands flew to his fresh shirt, opening the first few buttons, but he put his hand over hers. Breathless, he asked, “Leave it on. Please.” Shame clouded his eyes, brows furrowing. “I have… scars.”

“We all do,” Tav said, confusion riddling her voice. “Hell, I have an open cut running across my face right now. That will probably scar, too.”

Though his desire was palpable in the air, he pulled back another excruciating inch. “These ones are… different, to put it lightly.”

“From the transformation...” Her confused look softened, but turned to horror in her eyes. But not at him. At whoever could have done that to him.

Astarion didn’t say it, but he didn’t deny it. He backed up a step, though he looked physically pained to create the distance. “You don’t actually want this, Tav. You deserve better.”

“I want all of you.”

He grimaced. Fucking grimaced. “There’s not a lot of me left.”

She advanced, hand touching his cheek. “Then let me take whatever you will give.”

His eyes clouded with something - relief, resolve? But he nodded fervently and lurched in to kiss her like she was air and he was suffocating. She ran her hands over the planes of his chest exposed by the few buttons she had opened, wishing she could run them along his back, but respected his wishes. She would only take what she was given. His hands fumbled for her belt, unbuckling it as she pushed them down her thighs, exposing herself to the chill night. Her pants and boots were thrown haphazardly to the side, and they both heard the unmistakable tumbling and splash of something heavy hitting the water nearby.

They hesitated long enough to laugh as he lifted her into his arms, bracing her against the boulder. Tav cried out, biting off a moan as a long finger slid through her slick heat. Astarion groaned, producing the soaked finger in front of him. And sniffed. He was fucking smelling her.

“Oh, darling,” he purred. “I’ve tasted your blood. But this is going to be divine.”

Words couldn’t form as he sank to his knees, barely giving her a moment to realize his intentions before his warm tongue slid against her. She gasped, fingers tangling in his hair. She couldn’t help the involuntary tug when he sucked her clit into his mouth, working over the sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he sighed against her.

Her brain fogged, and certainly not from the damned tadpole. But was it possible that everything she was feeling, he felt, too? It would explain the sense of mesmerized pride she felt.

“As-Astarion!” she begged, bucking her hips against his mouth.

He placed a steadying hand over her hip bone and broke away, causing her to cry out in frustration. “Quiet, now, or you’ll let everyone in on our little game here.”

Suave as he was, she knew. He didn’t want her to be embarrassed if she was caught with him. And it burned her, because nobody else gave a damn who fucked who the night before. Unless it was him, apparently.

“Let them hear,” she whispered. “I want them to know.”

“You say that-”

“Then believe me.”

She sank to her knees, shoving him backwards so she could straddle him. She unlaced his leather pants, growing frustrated with them and allowing him to free himself. He groaned at the relief from the confines, and need radiated in her core like alchemist’s fire. He was going to be the death of her, but not in the way he worried about.

Her hand encompassed him, and he jolted, lips parting. “Darling, I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m afraid you’re going to spoil your own fun if you keep that up.”

A smirk played at Tav’s lips. “Been a while?”

“What can I say? I’ve been a bit preoccupied with being kidnapped and turned into a nursery.” But the sharp, joking tone of his voice dropped. “But, yes. I don’t often take people to bed. Despite Gale’s prodding, I do still have impulse control, and I don’t seem to enjoy meaningless little trysts.”

She hesitated. “Are you saying this means something?”

“Please, don’t make me answer that tonight. But I think you already know that answer, even if I can’t bring myself to say it.”

“I understand.”

He took her hand, holding it between them. “Thank you.”

He coaxed her off of him and kneeled, closing his eyes as he unfastened the last buttons of his shirt.

“Astar-”

“I know what I said. And I have no plans of letting you see that. Not tonight, maybe not ever… but I’m not about to bed you on the cold ground,” he explained, pushing the white shirt off his shoulders and laying it on the ground. He beckoned her closer, drawing her into another fervent kiss and laying her onto the thin fabric. He kneeled over her, supporting himself on his forearms. They both sighed as his cock nudged her entrance. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Thank Gods.”

He pushed into her, sinking in inch by inch until his hips were flush with hers. Tav gasped, hooking her arms around him. She felt the marks a moment too late, and her eyes flew open, boring into his. But he was just watching her, studying her like he was waiting for regret to ebb into her eyes. It never came.

Her body ached from more than the ass beating she had taken today. It ached for him, wanted him impossibly closer. Her hips bucked as she tried to draw him in, causing his breath to stutter as his gaze grew hazy, setting a steady rhythm rocking into her.

“Astarion, fuck-” she gasped, pulling him flush to her chest. “I need you. Please.”

“Darling, you have me,” he rasped, punctuating the thought with a tantalizing grind of his hips that rubbed her clit as he moved. His movements grew feral as he kissed her fervently, head dipping down to her neck. She groaned at the distinct feel of his teeth grazing her neck. And though she knew he only did it to heighten her senses…

“I want- want you to- fuck… I want you to feed on me,” she begged.

Astarion’s hips stuttered as if the thought alone was going to drive him over the edge.

“Tav, now isn’t the time. I’ve had enough to satiate me.”

“But not enough to fill you. And you said it yourself - it can be extremely pleasurable in the right circumstances. And I want to give it.”

“Are you sure?” he breathed, eyes wide with doubt even as his hips rolled slowly against hers.

Her hands guided him to the healing bruise on her neck, and a moment passed where she questioned if he would accept her offer. And then a sharp sting radiated pain thorough her neck and shoulder. Pain and wooziness and… yes, that. She quivered, surrendering to his touch, to everything that was him. She would die for this, would beg for it without shame. She was his, whether his heart understood that or not. Even if it never did.

Her stomach tightened, release a cliff edge she just needed the slightest push towards… Maybe their minds were more interconnected than she thought. “Come for me,” Astarion groaned, reaching down to rub her clit and punctuating the thought with sharp, dizzying thrusts. And the world shattered.

“Astarion!” Tav screamed, orgasm ripping through her like earth-shattering magic.

He panted against her, pushed her legs up to drive into her impossibly deeper, sweat beading on his forehead. She gasped, sensitive from her climax, and fell deliriously into a second one as he groaned, burying himself to the hilt and stilling, cock twitching inside of her as he finally broke apart.

He stilled, lowering her legs and bracing himself, eyes closed as he fought for breath. He slid out of her slowly, regretfully, and fell to the ground beside her. He pulled her into him, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, damp with sweat.

Laying on his stomach, he tucked an arm under his head and turned tired but sated eyes on her. No, more than sated. Adoring.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, disbelief heavy in his eyes.

“So are you. Wonderful and handsome and smarmy and arrogant sometimes… but amazing. I meant it. I see you, Astarion.”

His throat bobbed, then his gaze fell to the dirty, frumpy shirt they were lying on. As if realizing his position suddenly, he swore, jolting upright and turning his scarred back away.

“Damn it. I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean for you to see that. You just…,” he sighed, “make it too easy to let my guard down.”

Tav pulled herself into a sitting position. “I don’t mind it, Astarion.” She cupped his cheek, directing his eyes to hers. “And, for whatever it’s worth… you’re beautiful. Unique. Something I want to spend a thousand nights mapping out.”

He smiled. “Then you’d be the first. And some horrible, selfish part of me wants you to be the last,” he admitted softly.

Tav leaned forward, wiping a droplet of her own blood from the corner of his mouth.

“I think I would join you in that eternity. We’ll find a way to make this work, if that’s what you want, too. I promise.”

“I… I believe you,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms.

“We should get back to camp. I’m sure tomorrow can’t wait to kick our asses again, and we both need rest.”

They dressed in silence, minus one boot that might have accidentally somehow ended up in the river. He apologized, but she could only laugh. He surprised her when he outstretched a hand. She took it as they strode silently back into camp.

With his tent just past hers, Astarion hesitated outside of her tent, lingering. Their hands stayed locked as he pressed his forehead to hers appreciatively. “Goodnight, you strange and wonderful thing,” he mused, smiling down at her.

It was a reach, but she couldn’t just let him walk away. It was some agonizing fear that if he left now, he would convince himself that this was all just for fun, that this was a distraction for both of them. “Stay,” she asked, searching his eyes.

“If I stay, the others-”

“I don’t care. Stay.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Alright.”

She fell asleep in the folds of his arms, not minding the dirty shirt he slept in. Hopefully he would ease about his back scars over time with her, reveal more of the history, but she was just content to be held by him tonight, and hopefully many nights after. And Astarion slept peacefully beside her for the first time in many long nights.

She woke to his gentle gaze roaming over her, taking in her face, her hair, her breathing. He adjusted as she stirred, almost apologetic.

“Good morning,” Tav murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning. I apologize for staring, but… I wasn’t convinced it was real when I woke up this morning. I’m still not.”

Sleepily, she moved forward and pressed her lips softly to his.

He sighed, relief melting over him. “Thank Gods.”

Between his hands running through her hair and his adoring words, she drifted back into the daze between sleep and waking. Just resting her eyes a bit longer…

Except when she opened them again, Astarion was gone. The distinct voices of Gale and Shadowheart filtered through the tent walls. Camp was awake. Had he snuck out unnoticed, still embarrassed to be discovered? Her heart sank at the thought.

She left her tent, strolling into the center of camp where Gale was cooking breakfast over the fire and sitting on a cut log.

“Good morning,” Tav said, nodding towards Shadowheart who sat polishing pieces of her armor.

The cleric nodded. “Good morning.”

Gale nodded curtly. “Morning.”

She knew she was showing her hand too much, but worry ebbed into her veins. “Has anyone seen-”

“Your boot. Yes. Found it by the bank behind your tent, actually,” came his steady voice. Astarion waltz into camp, throwing the soggy leather boot down by the fire to dry. “It’s, eh- a bit damp. If it doesn’t dry well, we can visit a merchant in town, no doubt. Or check at the grove.”

Her relieved smile met his content one. “Good morning, darling. Sleep well?”

“You mean you actually got sleep last night?” Gale retorted, shooting Astarion an accusatory glance.

If at all possible, the elf paled, but a snarky grin masked it well. “What gave it away, Waterdeep? Her beautiful sounds, or the shirt I’m wearing? Had to wear the dirty one I bedded her on top of last night so as not to wear that bloody one that upsets you so.”

Gale stiffened, not expecting the crass admittance.

“But… yes,” Astarion said. “Tav and I are… trying this. And I don’t give a single damn what you think. All that matters,” he laced his fingers into hers, “is what she thinks. What I think.”

Shadowheart smiled. “If this is what you want,” she glanced at Tav, “ I’m happy for you.”

Tav nodded, lacing her fingers tighter into his. “It is.”

Gale nodded. “Seems like I’m on the unpopular opinion side of this debate. Which also means that I might have been wrong about you,” he said, locking eyes with Astarion. Astarion nodded, and the conversation ended. A quiet agreement of mutual respect.

Hours later, Tav ripped at the buttons of Astarions shirt, shoving it partly off his shoulders so she could roam her hands freely over his chest. Her tunic followed swiftly as he laid her onto his bedroll in his tent.

“Last night,” she gasped between kisses, “I told you- that I- wanted to explore you for a thousand nights. This is only two.”

“You’re foolish if you think I’m giving you up after the thousandth,” he rasped.

She laughed, falling into their passionate embrace.

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saltpepperbeard · 5 years

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Open Up ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Hello hello! Does this still count as an Everlark one shot with a particular character of a particular kind thrown into the mix? I’d hope so lol! But hey there; quite the unexpected twist from me, yes? Considering how much I absolutely ROAST the guy who shows up in this story.

I wanted to do it as a fun little exercise however! Oddly enough, I think it was burning his trading card at Toastcon that gave me the extra motivation to go through with this fjkdskds. CATHARTIC, PERHAPS? I have had a headcanon for quite some time though, one where Gale matures enough to actually come back to Twelve to face Katniss and consequently Peeta as well. I decided to play with that idea, and it was definitely fun/challenging figuring out how everyone would react, Katniss especially.

Now, I know this may be a little less than ideal content for some shippers lol! If you’re anything like me, his name alone is enough to send you into a “HMMNOTHANK” most of the time. But I’d definitely appreciate some open-mindedness for this one! Katniss may not throw up Gale, no, but she definitely has some OPINIONS.

So without further adoooooo...

Open Up

I feel relaxed for the first time in weeks. Curled up into the couch, my hands laced over my stomach, my unborn baby stirring softly within...

The scent of Peeta’s baking cheesebuns a comforting perfume in the air, the rain gently tapping against the glass of the window, the warmth of the fire blanketing both body and soul...

It’s nice. And very much needed. Getting this deep into my pregnancy has caused a whirlwind of emotion. Terrors have been frequenting my dreams more often than not. Panic has overtaken me more than relief has. Uncertainty has danced through my system in contrast to the usual steadiness.

I don’t know; something’s different about today. It feels like everything has fallen into place, everything’s where it should be. All my favorite things have lined up to swaddle me in comfort, swaddle me in relief. Seems like not too many things could threaten such a wonderful, easygoing morning.

“Love?”

The familiar, handsome voice calling from the kitchen breaks me from my thoughts, but not from my eased state, in fact adding to it. A warm smile stretches my cheeks as I reply back.

“Hmm?”

“Doing alright in there?”

I can hear him still working as he talks, pounding dough and bustling around the kitchen. I bite my lip, smiling more as I picture his concentration.

“I guess.”

Now, he halts, giving a firm slap to the dough before pausing.

“You guess?”

I shake my head softly; so protective as always. He’s got even more so with my pregnancy. Even the slightest bit of upset or discomfort on my part will get him leaping to action. If it were anyone else, it would almost be annoying. But with him, with my husband...it’s strangely endearing.

I worry my lip more, puffing with mirth. Shouldn’t worry him, I guess, so my response turns to teasing.

“Just missing someone. He’s wrapped up in his work though, so maybe I shouldn’t bother him.”

I can practically hear the tension in the kitchen break, Peeta sighing before falling victim to laughter.

“Oh,” he snickers, and continues on with baking, “Well, yeah, he is pretty busy making cheesebuns for his two favorite people. Not that he would mind the company, but such a distraction might put said cheesebuns on hold.”

“That might be a risk I’m willing to take,” I murmur back.

I know my husband’s grinning tremendously, the warmth from his smile outdoing the heat from the fire in the hearth.

“Really?” he chuckles, “You’d cast aside cheesebuns for this person? Are we talking about the same Katniss here?”

Now I’m laughing as well, shaking my head once more before heaving my rotund form off my perch, readying myself to saunter towards the kitchen.

“Guess I love him a bit more than his baking. Only a bit though.”

Again, Peeta laughs, a joyous, wonderful sound that brings me to the same level.

“Hmm, sounds about right,” he snorts, “Well, if not a cheesebun, he definitely has a kiss with your name on it.”

My heart flips, absentmindedly licking my lips as I picture his offer. Despite the aches and pains coursing through my body from being late into term, I begin to waddle my way towards the lovely enticements in the kitchen.

“He sounds cheesier than what he’s making,” I say, a blush dusting across my cheeks as I add, “Guess that’s why I love him more.”

“I’m going to cut this third person thing we have going only to say that I love you too.”

I blush even harder, and am just a few waddles away from entering the kitchen, a few waddles away from collapsing into my husband’s embrace, when my jinxing words decide to catch up with me.

Because the morning does indeed shift. Not with anything bad, per say, but with something very unexpected; a series of knocks sounds from our front door.

The warmth surging through me is quick to shift to the opposite, every part of me freezing. I try not to grow anxious, but it’s difficult not to. Though mysterious visitors are often just Haymitch, or Sae, or even Hazelle, some deep recess of my mind always worries about it being someone from the Capitol.

Especially now, with a pure little unscathed life growing deep within me.

What if they’re here to take Peeta and I back on some twisted Victors’ Tour. What if they’re here to reap us into a new set of Games. What if they’re here to take my child, our child, away, leading it to death before I could even ease it into life...

I hadn’t even realized I had been shivering with quick breaths until Peeta’s voice sounds to ground me.

“Katniss?” he asks, his tone a strong whisper, “Who-”

The knocks persist, cutting us both off. My anxiety hikes up, my arms subconsciously wrapping around my stomach. I take steps away from the outside world, visions rolling dark throughout my head.

“I...I can’t...” I wheeze, silently begging my husband for help. He understands almost immediately, our closeness seemingly connecting our minds.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, though I think I can hear a hint of concern, “It’s alright, Katniss. Let me just clean my hands off and then I’ll answ-”

Once more, we’re cut off. This time though, not from knocks. This time, it’s from my name, my name being uttered from someone different than Peeta.

“Katniss?”

I didn’t think it was possible to freeze more. But I do, every ounce of me locking up at the voice on the other side of the wood. It sounds incredibly strange, but all too familiar. Absolutely awful, but oddly wonderful all the same.

Following along with the contrasts, my body remains rigidly still, all except for my arm, which slowly and cautiously reaches for the door’s handle. I don’t know what or who I’m expecting to see. I don’t know what to expect. But when I hear a soft, “I know you’re in there,” I’m able to summon enough strength to breech the final barrier between myself and the “stranger.”

Although it’s definitely not a stranger. And it’s not Sae, or Haymitch, or anyone from the Capitol. And I’m not sure if it’s way better than seeing a Peacekeeper at our door, or far worse.

Talk about locking up; I go utterly cold. My eyes turn wild, my mouth hangs agape, my grip on the door runs iron. And once more, my body and mind go to war, leaving me awkwardly hanging in the middle, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to react.

Part of me wants to start sobbing, crying at the notion of something returning from the dead. Part of me wants to slam the door, to forget I ever saw the person standing before me. Part of me wants to scream until my voice runs raw, shrieking my pain from the past few years.

Instead, I’m left doing absolutely nothing, simply staring in complete shock.

The inner battle within me continues, and a reaction birthed from pure instinct presents itself. Vile things form on the tip of my tongue, anger being the first to pull ahead in my internal fight. But, just as fast, my heart is quick to douse the flames, preventing anything from being said.

It’s quite the brawl, between body and spirit. Before a side can come out on top though, before I can truly react, truly process, I hear shuffling behind me. Then, comes the voice the eases my soul, but unfortunately leaves me more aware of reality.

“Katniss? Who’s at the...”

Much be pretty extraordinary if Peeta finds himself speechless too.

We all remain in a tense, uncomfortable silence for a beat. But of course, my husband is the one to cut through. Amicable and wonderful as always, even in a situation like this. So I’m not surprised at all to feel him slide up behind me, his presence warm and welcoming.

And with a composure I wish I had, I watch as he extends a hand in greeting to the man before us, followed by the name I’ve tried not to think about in years.

“Gale...” Peeta murmurs, “It’s...a surprise to see you back in Twelve!”

Gale.

I’m not sure whether I want to vomit, smile, or dart back into the house.

But with my husband behind me, and the initial shock wearing off, I settle on actually looking at him, actually taking him in.

He looks so incredibly similar to how he did when we parted. I’m not sure how that’s even possible; it’s been years. I guess the only difference would be that he looks fitter, more composed. Like the kind of person who should be working in District Two.

But I can still see the familiarity in his grey eyes, the concentration in his gaze that I saw so often when we were hunting. Now, instead of using it to figure out snares and traps, I watch as it washes over my form. My very vulnerable, very pregnant form. It seems to settle on my stomach, his brow furrowing just enough to rouse a reaction from me.

I suddenly feel incredibly self-conscious, judged, and uncomfortable. I can’t imagine he’s not sneering at the fact that I’m pregnant with another man’s child, scowling in jealousy like he did not too long ago.

Bile rises in my throat, and I cast my gaze downwards, shutting myself out from the situation. The only thing I choose to focus on is my husband, inhaling his therapeutic cinnamon and dill scent, relishing in the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

The small ounce of my conscious paying attention braces for the usual snarky comment from Gale. But strangely enough, he simply returns my husband’s greeting, shaking Peeta’s hand back.

“Peeta. Yeah it’s...definitely been a while.”

His voice even sounds similar. Strong, authoritative, steady. It takes me back to the better times between us, but of course, it also takes me back to the terrible. I feel my throat tighten further, and I still find myself unable to look at him. Instead, I lean back to seek the same comfort I’ve been receiving all these years, my own true solace.

Peeta’s quick to deliver, slipping his hand around my hip when he retracts it from Gale’s, holding me close. I can’t tell if his arm around me is a protective or a possessive gesture. Either way, it does its intended purpose, soothing me and ironing out the high peaks of anxiety.

“How have you been doing?” Peeta asks, thankfully keeping the awkward silences somewhat at bay.

“Ahh, pretty good. Keeping busy in Two.”

The mention of Gale’s job, his life, causes me to shiver slightly. Though Peeta tightens his grip around me, every ounce of his warmth pouring into my veins, my nerves continue to wave. I want nothing more than to bury my face in Peeta’s chest, to hide myself away from all of this. Even though it’s not much, simply catching up and exchanging pleasantries, it’s...more than overwhelming. I wasn’t ready for this. I want to go back to the regular, gentle day we were having, go back to focusing on my life and the life I’m preparing to welcome.

But, Gale being stubborn and Peeta being more than polite, neither give me that option, continuing to converse.

“...Take it things are going well for the two of you?”

Even after all these years, I think I can recognize that tone. Seemingly well intended, but laced with jealousy and negativity. Does nothing but make my urge to flee stronger, my trembles more intense.

Peeta begins to softly caress my hip, my lower back, rubbing tender circles as he carries on with the conversation.

“Yeah. We’re slowly starting to rebuild. Opened the bakery back up, and the forest continues to provide. Life’s been...getting back to normal really.”

My husband definitely doesn’t disappoint; even if Gale had been making some kind of stab at our relationship, at my pregnancy, Peeta stepped entirely around it. It makes me relax a tad, leaning even further into his touch.

“That’s good to hear. You seem like you’re doing much better,” Gale says.

My relaxation is short lived, tensing back up at Gale’s words. That’s...strange for him to say. Years ago he didn’t want Peeta to get better; him being well was too much competition. And now he’s commenting on my husband’s well being?

“I am, thank you,” Peeta murmurs, before looking down in my direction, “It’s been rocky at times but...We’ve really helped each other through a lot.”

“I can tell.”

Gale pauses for a moment, before taking a breath and continuing in a softer voice, “I’m...glad you two have each other.”

Now there’s a silence that even Peeta can’t mend, the both of us stunned at such a different character. I raise my head slightly, though still not looking Gale in the eyes, confusion surging in to mix with the nerves. Almost as if on cue, Gale inhales before breaking through.

“Guess you’re wondering why I’m at your front door?”

It’s like Peeta suddenly becomes fully aware of his surroundings; I guess Gale showing up was enough to shock him into greying out as well. He tenses slightly, looking down at me, back to Gale, and then down at me again, his mouth flopping a few times. I hear him swallow hard, before he releases with a sigh, almost like he was fighting something as well.

“Oh, sorry; would you like to come in out of the rain?”

“Yeah, thanks. Not quite used to this weather anymore.”

The two share a good-natured chuckle, keeping the atmosphere cordial. But, cordial as it may be, and as friendly as my husband is, it doesn’t stop my vision from nearly blacking out. There’s something about inviting Gale into our household that almost makes the contents of my stomach reappear onto our porch. Maybe because inviting him in almost feels like letting him back into my life, neither of which I’m ready for at all.

I can barely handle my pregnancy, can barely handle my past nightmares. How the hell am I expected to handle an individual who carries such immense weight with him, who’s left such a hefty scar across my body?

My form signals to me that I’ve had enough, and before either of them can say anything more, I tear myself away. I move the fastest I have in weeks, practically ignoring the added weight in my abdomen as I glide across the cold floor. I’m quick to find a bathroom, and I barely have time to sink in front of the toilet before the retching begins.

I cough harshly, tears streaming down my face as I fiercely grip the porcelain. Nothing comes up, but my body continues to react, heaving all the while. A scream builds up in my throat, but it comes out as a gag, dampened by all my rampant emotions.

There I remain until both physical and mental exhaustion kick in, my entire form slumping downwards. I wheeze, breathing heavily as I claw my way across the floor, easing myself to the bathroom door. I prop myself against it, leaning on it as I rake my hands across my face, tears still a plenty.

I expect to be reduced to sobs, or screams, but I find that I’m numb instead. I’m motionless, remaining against the doorway, now impervious to the conversation on the other end. I have no choice but to listen in, to be subjected to whatever is so important.

I wait for Gale to drop some big news, some kind of something from the likes of District Two. But instead, the conversation between he and Peeta continues to sound entirely casual.

“Did you want anything to drink? Or eat?” I hear Peeta ask.

“No, I’m good, but thanks,” Gale replies.

I hear them pass through the house, the two of them heading to either the living room or the kitchen. They probably think they’re out of ear shot, or that I’m not listening. They’d be wrong; I’m entirely attuned.

There’s another awkward beat, one silent enough for me to hear my heart pounding in my ears. This time, Gale’s surprisingly the one to break it, with something rather unexpected.

“...So when’s the baby coming?”

I feel my fists tighten on their own accord, an ember of anger alighting within me. It may have been a perfectly innocent question once again, but it reeks of envy and bitterness.

Thankfully, my husband’s warmth combats the negative fire; I can almost feel the heat of his smile as he gingerly answers.

“In a few weeks, we think. That’s what the doctor keeps telling us anyway.”

“You excited?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Peeta chuckles softly, “I’ve wanted to be a Dad for...a while.”

Picturing the look on my husband’s face and hearing his current contentment soothes me, my form easing a bit against the door. But because fire is here to combat my own, Gale speaking gets me tensing right back up again.

“And Katniss?”

I clench my jaw, my hands lacing protectively across my stomach. I’m half-tempted to burst out, to hiss at him to leave and stop questioning my growing family. But I still find myself locked up, Peeta tenderly speaking for me.

“She’s alright,” he murmurs after a breath, “She’s been scared of course.”

I tense further, wishing I had a knife to throw if Gale dares to make some kind of snide comment towards my husband, something about him not helping me properly or me not being ready. Once again, he surprises me, simply remaining silent and allowing Peeta to continue.

“But...I think she’s excited too. She already talks to the baby a lot, and I’ll catch her singing lullabies on the occasion.”

I hear Peeta chuckle gently, before he adds, “She’s going to be a wonderful mother.”

It’s astounding how well and how quickly Peeta can bring me back down, tension sapping from a body with a ghost of a smile to match. I blow out a soft breath, tenderly starting to rub my stomach, only to freeze when another voice interjects.

“...Yeah. She will,” Gale agrees.

That sort of melancholy-laced tone takes me back to when I was so confused, to when I didn’t know what to do with myself or how I was feeling. I expect it to trigger those same awful feelings of guilt, my throat tightening in preparation.

I’m pleased when nothing of the sort arises.

Because no, there’s absolutely no questioning it now. The baby growing within me is Peeta’s. And the heart pounding in my chest belongs to him as well. It’s something that Gale has absolutely no place in wiggling himself into now. It never was. So why the hell is he-

“Guess you’re wondering why I showed up here?”

I inhale sharply; guess he’s answering my question is more like it.

“Kind of,” Peeta admits.

“I came to Twelve for inspections. Decided to come here, kind of at the last minute. Partly because...”

He pauses with an exhale, and I’m barely breathing myself as he continues.

“Peeta, I wanted to apologize. And to thank you.”

It’s like everything in Twelve comes screeching to a halt. Nothing’s audible except for the rain just barely pittering outside, and my breaths puffing out in perplexed bursts. I sit up a bit, needing to shake my head and inwardly ask myself if that was real. Very out of character from what I’m used to, from what I’d expect from him.

Peeta must be on the same wavelength, his question just as soft as the raindrops on the window.

“...Pardon?”

I hear Gale take another breath, his voice taking an oddly soft tone as well.

“You’ve really taken care of each other. I can see that in the short time I’ve been here. But the way you’ve cared for Katniss...I never could’ve...”

He trails off, swallowing the old longing. I can feel myself scowling at the thought of his old self punching through whatever thing he has going now. Peeta must be making some kind of furrowed expression too, because Gale is quick to keep explaining.

“She was my best friend. And I cared about her a lot. Still do.”

I think I can feel my heart twang within my chest. Before I can think about that too much though, the flickering fire of annoyance within comes to the rescue.

“But I was just too wrapped up in myself,” Gale says, sighing, “Too wrapped up in the war. I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention to her as much as I should’ve. I didn’t realize what she wanted, didn’t know what she needed.”

He takes another deep breath.

“Obviously it was you. And I shouldn’t have fought against that as hard as I did.”

I can’t help but nod slightly against the door. Despite my distrust for him though, and the situation, I find myself continuing to listen intently.

“After the rebellion I was worried she’d never heal but...Here she is with you, alive, happy...pregnant...”

Almost as if on cue, the baby stirs softly, and I go back to rubbing my stomach. I can feel the tension levels easing down, only slightly, but still.

“Thank you for giving her this life. For being there for her. Trying to wedge myself between that was...inexcusable. I’m sorry.”

I’m surprised to feel my breath catch, and I lean my head back, looking towards the ceiling as I contemplate things, as I process. Where did this all come from? I never would have expected anything of the sort from him. The last time we saw each other, I was perfectly content on never seeing him ever again. And now he’s here, in my house, apologizing to my husband?

I shake my head again, scowling. Damn Gale. I guess I wasn’t safe from the confusion he inflicts after all.

Admittedly though, this...is far more welcomed. He’s perplexing, but not in the way I was so accustomed to years ago.

I am still annoyed with him though, for making me attempt to figure it out.

There’s another pause, less awkward this time. Peeta must be trying to process things too. I hear him heave a gentle sigh, before he speaks up again.

“You loved her. You didn’t know what to do. We both didn’t.”

It’s the first time throughout this exchange that my husband’s words have made my throat tighten. I find myself worrying my bottom lip, knowing it’s the truth but hating to hear it.

Following the pattern of oddity, Gale gives a sort snort.

“No, if I really loved her I wouldn’t have acted how I did. To either of you.”

The sigh that departs from deep within my lungs syncs up perfectly with Peeta’s.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs, “It’s in the past now.”

“...You can’t speak for Katniss though.”

“No,” Peeta agrees, “I can’t.”

And he’s right. He can’t. Peeta understands me like no one else does, but I don’t even think he can figure out the complexity of what all I’m feeling right now. For the record, I don’t think I can either.

I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. Things have already been so crazy lately. I didn’t need more wounds from my past to reopen.

And I don’t want to forgive him.

But I feel...eased. I feel slightly lifted. It’s equivalent to putting a bandaid on a scar, sure. Doesn’t erase the fact that the scar is still there. But...it still feels oddly better than having the scar ugly and untreated.

Before I can get too wrapped up in my thoughts, Peeta’s gentle and sincere voice breaks through.

“...Thank you though, Gale. I appreciate the apology.”

Some kind of movement is audible, and I imagine the two are shaking hands again. If anything, I guess I’m glad that Gale and Peeta are on better terms.

But where does that leave me.

It’s like they read my mind, my energy, directing their conversation my way after another pause.

“Should...we check on her?” Gale asks.

Peeta replies with a long breath, before audibly answering.

“I think...she just needs some time. This was all very sudden. Guess anything else will have to happen on her terms.”

I love you, Peeta.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling Gale’s tension before he relents.

“Right. Sorry for showing up with no notice.”

“It’s alright,” Peeta murmurs, letting out a huff of mirth, “Definitely took us by surprise though.”

They both share a strained, quiet laugh, before things go quiet. There’s the awkwardness again, like neither of them are sure where to proceed. They both know they can’t force me out. So after a few more pauses, Gale backs off with a sigh.

“Alright. Well, good seeing you, Peeta,” he says, “Take care of yourself.”

“You too. Safe travels.”

More pauses, before I hear a pair of departing footsteps, followed by another. I recognize the heavier tread of my husband, sounding like it’s slowly departing off towards the kitchen again. Gale sounds closer, likely heading for the front door.

And that’s when I feel completely strange. That’s when all the swirling emotions take hold. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know is about to take place. But I find myself standing up and bursting through the door, tearing back through the house.

I round a corner, and freeze at the sight of him. His back is turned to me as he collects his things, but he raises his head and stills at my approach. I thought I had been silent on my feet, but I guess my pregnancy makes my footsteps a bit harder. That, or his hunting background must still be evident despite years in District Two.

Either way, I inwardly curse, and consider darting away before he can say anything.

I find that I’m still locked into place though. And he beats me to it anyway.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

Him talking to Peeta was easy to stomach. But for some reason, him talking to me after so long instantly makes me defensive, a scowl hardening my features with building nasty words to match.

“I wouldn’t forgive me either,” he continues, still turned away from me, “But I have to apologize to you anyway.”

I feel myself trembling, close to bolting or yelling, I’m not sure which. Again, he doesn’t give the luxury of deciding. He instead turns to face me, our grey eyes connecting in a strange hold. It’s very quick to make me feel nauseous, the whole thing a bit much to handle. I don’t know why I chased him in the first place.

I want Peeta. I want to go back into hiding. I want...

“Katniss...” he says, his voice saddened and just barely above a whisper.

My nostrils flare, numerous responses attempting to surface but failing. He takes it as a cue to go on.

“Will you at least listen to what I have to say?”

My body tenses up, like a cat arching its spine. I don’t say yes, but I don’t say no either. That leaves us in a strange limbo for a bit, with Gale being the one to venture out of it.

“I was bent out of shape. I was too caught up in my own interests. So caught up that I forgot how to treat you as my best friend. Hardly anything else mattered.”

I’m heaving shaky breaths, feeling a glassy, angry sheen form at the bottom of my eyes.

“It wasn’t right of me at all. It won me the battle I was fighting but at what cost.”

I watch as he swallows hard, his expression dropping further.

“Katniss, I’m so sorry about...”

He chokes on his apology, unable to finish. I know what he’s referring to though. The thought is enough to break the glass, a single, hot tear rolling down my cheek. I want so badly to swipe it away, but I’m completely motionless.

At this, he seems to droop, pain clearly reading across his face.

“I’m sorry...”

I close my eyes, trying not to think too hard about anything. I attempt to shut it out, reverting to hardness as I always have.

“We’ve been here before, Gale,” I say, my tone cold but catching slightly at the utterance of his name.

“I know. And nothing I can say will fix it.”

“No.”

He heaves a shaky breath himself, and switches course away from that awful topic.

“So, I guess I’ll just say that...I’m so happy for you.”

This is enough to bring my eyes back into view, and I’m stunned to see him wearing a sad smile.

“I never would have been able to say this years ago. But really, I’m happy you’re here, with Peeta. He...really cares about you. And it’s good to see that you’re happy too. That you love him.”

I blink slowly, instinctively resting my hands atop my stomach at the talk of my husband, the talk of love.

“That’s all I could have wanted. You to be happy and safe. And he’s done that for you. All that and more. I’m glad, Katniss. I really am.”

I don’t want to believe him. I don’t want to believe any of this. But his expression, his voice...It all seems so oddly genuine. I mean, why would he show up here to say all of this if he didn’t really mean it?

My breath catches, and I blow it out slowly, beginning to shift my hands across the strained fabric of my shirt, comforting myself. I nearly stop when I see Gale’s gaze momentarily flit down to my stomach, but it’s too quick of a glance.

“Seeing you...like this...I know everything’s just right for you. And that he was right all along.”

“It is. He is.”

I of course expect him to sulk, but he simply nods, continuing to gently smile.

“I think I can breathe easier now, that’s for sure.”

I fall slightly agape, unable to hide the perplexity swirling around my subconscious.

“Why...do you...”

“Care?” he finishes for me.

When I give a slight nod, he continues, “Spending time away from home made me reflect I guess. It’s weird being there without really knowing anyone. It’s weird not being able to hunt.”

It’s his turn to look away, his eyes flitting down for a moment before reconnecting with mine.

“...I’ve missed you, Katniss.”

It’s back to me looking away, my throat tightening up as well. I can feel his gaze on me, and lets out a mirthless puff of air.

“Know that’s probably not mutual.”

I’m about to start scowling at what sounds like a guilt trip, but he sweeps away my building annoyance.

“Which is okay. And...understandable,” he huffs.

Another awkward beat, the two of us shifting on our feet. Of course Gale is the one to cut it, his voice the gentlest it’s been this entire time.

“I just had to apologize. Get that all off my chest. I owed it to both you and Peeta for too long. I really am sorry, Katniss. For everything.”

When I don’t respond, hanging my head as moisture settles in my eyes again, he lets out another sigh.

I won’t forgive him. I can’t forgive him. But I can at least...accept this, accept what he’s said. I can at least acknowledge that I appreciate his strange shift in mindsets.

Not with words though, of course. Not by saying something. So, almost as if on their own accord, my feet are carrying me towards him, closing our proximity for the first time in nearly a decade. I barely have the time to register his shocked expression before I’m against him, as best as my rotund stomach will allow.

The feeling of him against me, the ashen scent that floods my nose, is almost enough to make me gag, to make me think that this was a mistake. I’ve gotten accustomed to speaking through physical gestures. But with him, with Gale...

I tense, my breath speeding up considerably. But when he slowly and hesitantly completes the embrace, when his arms come around me...

There’s an absence of warmth, yes. But the familiarity, the promise of sincerity in his apology...

One or two tears manage to break free, streaming down my cheeks and signalling a breach in my composure. I have to break away before I let my emotions get the best of me. I guess after all of these years, after everything that happened, I still can’t let him see me cry. So I tug back against his hug, breaking it and avoiding his gaze.

“You and Peeta take care of yourselves,” he murmurs, finally signalling his departure.

I nod softly, starting to fidget with the bottom of my shirt.

“And...congratulations,” he says; I can see him nod towards my stomach out of the corner of my eye, “I can’t believe you’re about to become a mother...”

Again, I nod, my lip trembling ever so slightly.

There’s another pause, and then he murmurs his departing words.

“Good seeing you, Catnip...”

I heave at the utterance of the old nickname, finally looking at him again. He gives me one last saddened smile, before slowly turning back towards the door. He opens it, and is quick to venture out into the rainy weather, his form disappearing into the mists of Twelve like a shadowy apparition, like he was never even here.

I walk out onto the porch after he goes, before stepping into the gentle rain myself. I need it to stay in touch with reality. I need it to make sure that wasn’t some weird dream.

My grey gaze travels skyward towards the matching clouds, allowing the cold droplets to splash across my face. It feels cleansing, therapeutic.

Kind of like...the whole exchange that was just had. Cold, could be considered unpleasant even, but...perhaps needed. Cathartic.

Like some kind of weird closure to something that was so painful.

I open my eyes and lower my head, blinking away the tears and rain. I suddenly feel chilled out in the deluge, after such a conversation, needing warmth like nothing else. I spin on my heels and dart back into the house, seeking the only person who can give me that.

“...Peeta?” I call, though it comes out more like a whimper, my composure swaying dangerously.

“In here, love,” he tenderly replies.

I follow his voice into the living room to find him sitting on the couch in front of the roaring fire, a fresh plate of cheesebuns on the coffee table beside him. He’s wrapped in a blanket, and as grey meets soft blue, he holds it open in an invitation, one I don’t hesitate in taking.

In mere seconds I’m against him, burying my face into his neck, into everything that he is. And as he wraps half of the blanket around me, as he nuzzles me and peppers me with comforting kisses, all the crazy emotions that had been boiling up in me surface.

I cry. I sob. I wheeze my tears against my husband until I can barely breathe. He’s extraordinarily patient with me throughout, letting me get it out and not saying a word, simply stroking my hair or giving me soft kisses.

When I’ve exhausted myself, when I’ve drained myself of feeling, I sniffle and reveal my face again, snuggling further against Peeta. He of course is aware of the shift, and wraps his arms around me in a loving embrace.

“Hey...” he whispers, pressing his lips against my forehead, “You okay?”

“I...I think so...” I whisper back, my chest continuing to shiver with the occasional sob.

Peeta nods slowly, and continues to caress and kiss me. I have to give him credit; he doesn’t pry, doesn’t ask any questions about what happened. He puts the conversation entirely in my hands, only discussing what I feel comfortable with.

I allow the shivers coursing through my system to lessen, the fire and rain to soothe, and my husband to nurture, before I softly speak up again.

“He tried to apologize before...”

Peeta stops peppering me with his lips only to lean back a tad, listening intently to my soft explanation.

“After...after Prim...”

Her name comes out as a croak, which gets me another gentle kiss to the cheek before my husband leans back once more.

“I couldn’t forgive him then. Still couldn’t now.”

I can see Peeta’s mouth slightly tighten out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t say anything, simply nodding.

“I don’t know though...Something felt...different today...Better...”

“Yeah?” Peeta murmurs.

“Yeah...I don’t know. Maybe I’m just wrapped up in how unexpected it was...And weird...”

My husband lets out a puff of mirth, his hand softly drifting across my shoulder, rubbing gentle caresses

“It was...pretty weird, admittedly,” he agrees with a chuckle, before his voice runs serious again, “But...I think it was a good thing...”

I nod slowly, simply gazing towards the fire as I think things over. The flames have lessened a bit, not crackling and popping as strongly. Just like Gale; his flames seemed to have died down too. Neither are as aggressive anymore, as overpowering. That’s definitely not a bad thing at all.

A soft sigh huffs from my nose. I wonder if he’s ever going to stop by again. I don’t think I’d be affected if he didn’t. But I also don’t think I’d be full of hatred if he did.

Strange. I didn’t expect to make some sort of semblance of peace with so many things today. Everything really does seem to be easing into harmony, into gentleness.

“What about you?” I finally murmur into the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“How’re you feeling about it?”

“Oh,” Peeta replies with a puff of soft laughter, “Ah, about the same as you I guess. Weirded out.”

I return the huff of laughter, and my husband chuckles more before continuing.

“I just...never expected him to show me gratitude.”

“Or apologize.”

“Oh, you heard?”

I nod, my voice dropping a tad in pitch, protectiveness and possessiveness swirling throughout.

“About time he actually showed you proper respect and appreciation.”

My sudden seriousness must take Peeta by surprise, because he halts his caresses and movements. When he gets a load of my scowl though, my grumpiness, he lets out another soft huff, his facial expression melting back into tenderness.

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t really matter in this, sweetheart. What’s more important to me is that he showed that respect to you.”

“No, he needed to understand how much I love you, Peeta. How much you mean to me. I don’t think he does entirely, don’t think anyone does. At least he has a better idea now.”

Again, I’ve stunned my husband. Only this time, I can see a wonderful, shy smile slowly stretching his features. It reminds me of the smile he gave me when I thanked him for the pearl, or the smile he gave me when I first told him I loved him.

He hangs his head a bit, letting out a soft laugh.

“You’re...incredible, you know that?”

I feel my scowl shifting towards a smile now as well, shaking my head at his compliment.

“Alright. Well, how about we say that...it was good for both of us, and that I love you to the point where I can’t properly express it myself,” he murmurs.

“Hmm...Guess I’ll have to settle for that.”

This time when Peeta laughs, I’m unable to stop myself from doing so too. And I finally turn to look at him for the first time since sitting down, as he’s actually the person I can give a proper physical gesture to.

“Peeta?”

“Hmm?”

I take a moment to appreciate his tender stare, his striking features, his ever growing smile when our eyes meet. I cannot help but smile softly in return, my tone growing lighter.

“There’s...a kiss with your name on it...”

The way his face manages to light up even more, even brighter than the embers beside us, melts my heart.

We kiss and embrace until we run hotter than the fire, until the cheesebuns beside us run cold. We caress until the cold dampness still clinging to my skin shifts elsewhere, until the possessiveness really wants to take over. We ravish each other until we drown out the rain pounding on the roof, until we give each other all the love and appreciation we can offer.

Later, we lay in bed as both us and the evening weather cool down, our bare bodies tangled and our hands laced across our precious one nestled within me. Mental and physical exhaustion set in as I nestle closer to Peeta, lazily peppering him with kisses. But after everything, after such an odd turn of events...I feel whole.

My week had started with mounting worry, with growing fear. And now, it’s ending with heightening peace, with easing tension. It’s ending with things tying up in strange, lovely little knots. It’d ending with more of a focus on what’s ahead, less of what’s behind us.

In the loving arms of my husband, I don’t have any nightmares. And with the apologies still hanging in my conscious, my scars hurt a little less.

#Everlark #Everlark fanfiction #Katniss Everdeen #Peeta Mellark #Gale Hawthorne #(...i haven't used that tag since like 2014 lmao WHO IS SHE)#Galey Bird #thg #Mockingjay #...DOIN' ME A SPOOKERS THIS ONE IS LOL #i even had to get Sweet Sweet Validation from some fandom ladies before going through with posting #Listen #L i s t e n #I think deep down I'm totally okay with Katniss and Gale being friends #If he had been okay with Peeta like Peeta had been with him #And had respected Katniss' choices/decisions a bit more #And didn't let his emotions/wants get the better of him #MIGHT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO TOLERATE HIM WAY WAY MORE #He just...got way too wrapped up in his own interests #And so I like to THINK that after a long while of being alone in Two #He reflected and kind of came to his senses #And realized what he had done to both Katniss AND Peeta #Hence him coming to try and make better amends #Just to try and tie up the SEVERLY loose and painful ends #...YA FEEL LOL #I FEEL #I'M ALL ABOUT PEOPLE HEALING #SO I //GUESS// GALEY BIRD IS ULTIMATELY INCLUDED #you know what this story's called #Growth lmao

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