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FIC: Don't Let's Pretend (Katniss/Peeta, PG-13)
Title: Don't Let's Pretend
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Word Count: 1,633
Summary: So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends. Set between The Hunger Games and Catching Fire.
It's three weeks, three torturous weeks where he has to pretend that everything is fine - no, that everything is fantastic, rather, and that he is deliriously happy. He is the fairy tale hero of Panem, after all: Peeta Mellark, the boy who not only emerged as a victor of the Hunger Games, but who also won his heart's desire in the process.
It's not hard, of course, to show the cameras that he loves Katniss. In that, he has no need to act. But to pretend that loving her (and being 'loved' by her) gives him joy now ...
Peeta wishes desperately that the media attention would end and he could be left in peace with the ache from loving a girl who is only pretending to return his affections.
There is relief when the reporters and cameramen pack up and return to the Capitol and he and Katniss coolly part ways. The last evening, after the media has left and it is just Peeta and Katniss in the lobby of the Justice Building, she looks awkwardly at him.
'I guess ... I'll see you around,' she says slowly, the words stilted and uncertain.
He could hug her, give himself one last embrace before he has to walk away, but the thought that she might stiffen in his arms, his touch unwelcome to her, is enough to chill the thought. Instead, he extends his hand.
'I suppose,' he says, keeping his voice light and indifferent.
Katniss grips his hand, shakes it. In the space before they let go, her eyes meet his, and there is a look he cannot read in it. Part confusion and part question. Peeta forces himself to look away, drop her hand, and turn away.
It's what she wants, he reminds himself. He can give her this. What's that she said to him before? 'Don't let's pretend when there's no one around.'
The irony of it is not wasted on him: in order to allow her to stop pretending to love him, he will have to pretend, every day, that he does not love her as he does.
+++
Sometimes he thinks about the arena, memories that give him mixed feelings. There are memories that are unquestionably nightmares, dreams that shake him awake in the dead of the night, holding him so tightly in their grip that he dares not return to sleep. Not that it matters: even lying awake in bed he can see the pleading eyes of the girl from District 8 as he hastens her towards her end. He closed those eyes once she was gone, but they still haunt him.
He dreams of Cato: the twisted rage on Cato's face when Peeta held him back from chasing Katniss. The sick fear when Cato's sword, aimed for his heart, pierced his leg before Cato collapsed from the Tracker Jacker venom. And then Cato, whimpering among the Mutts as they slowly, agonisingly, tore him apart.
But woven in between these memories are the happiest ones of his life, too. The feel of Katniss's lips against his own, her body curled up next to his in the sleeping bag, nights in the cave when he believed that she had, against all odds, finally fallen for him. The thought that even if he was dying, he would die happy in her love. Sometimes these turn into nightmares, too, when Katniss vanishes in the dream or starts to bleed from the head, the way he found her after she brought him the medicine. The panic he feels in these are the worst; often he only manages to convince himself it's not real when the dawn's light brings the world around him into focus.
He tries at first to drive the memories out by baking: the methodical mixing and pounding helps. The aroma of freshly baked bread brings up the memory of Katniss, but a safer one, of her starving in his backyard so many years ago. It's not long, however, before he realises that try as he might to drive them out, the nightmares will always be there with him.
And so he begins to paint. His newfound wealth has given him access to paints and other mediums, allowing him to channel the creative energy he used to put into frosting onto canvas. He paints the arena, from the Cornucopia to the lake, to the woods and the caves by the stream and the mud he hid himself in for days. He paints the Mutts: razor sharp teeth and human-like eyes sharp and focused on killing. Most terrifying of all, he paints the other tributes: the children who died so that he and Katniss could live. When he wakes shaking from his nightmares, he paints them, as though setting them free on the canvas will release himself from them.
Slowly, he begins to paint Katniss, too. Katniss standing in her circle before the Cornucopia. Katniss with her bow and arrow pointed directly at him. Katniss looking utterly bewildered as he peers up at her from his hiding spot in the mud.
Katniss, her face shining with love and concern for him, against the misty backdrop of his fevered haze.
This last painting makes him angry. On canvas, the duplicity of her expression stares him in the eye. She could be looking at anyone with those adoring eyes - at that coal miner boyfriend of hers, perhaps. The thought of her smiling at Gale Hawthorne, showering him with kisses, feels repulsive. Perhaps it was Gale she thought of when pretending affection for Peeta.
He can't even look at her for weeks after that. It's impossible to miss seeing her coming and going, of course, but Peeta turns away, avoids her eyes, and ignores Katniss as much as possible whenever they pass each other.
One night he wakes from a dream in which he watches Katniss entwined around Gale. He finds himself in the room where he paints, staring at that portrait of Katniss. He thinks of destroying it. Then he realises that this nightmare, while painful, is nothing compared to the regular ones of blood, death, and terror from the arena. It even pales against his nightmares of her dying.
Forgiveness comes easier after that. It is easier to understand Katniss's duplicity, viewing it against the contrast of the arena. She was trying to survive - trying to help him survive as well. When her death figures as one of his worst fears, how can he blame her for doing whatever she could to keep alive? And maybe she wasn't in love with him, but she still risked her life to save his when she didn't have to.
Slowly, his coldness towards her ebbs away. He starts to bring baked goods to her house, a peace offering. Now, however, it seems that Katniss is avoiding him, too. She is rarely home, spending most of her time in the woods. He ends up leaving the bread with her mother or sister.
Primrose Everdeen, when she receives him, smiles and offers up in return offhanded tidbits of information about her sister: Katniss will love these buns, she's fond of the cheese; Plain loaves are good for sandwiches; Katniss will put wild turkey on them. She fills him in on how Katniss spends her days: sometimes visiting Madge Undersee, but more often hunting and delivering game to Gale's family, her friends from the Hob, and others who need it. Peeta starts to leave extra loaves for her to take along as well.
As he discovers these things about Katniss, he realises how little he actually knows about her. And he reminds himself that he can't possibly fault her for choosing Gale, who was her friend, who knew her for years before Peeta's name came out of that reaping ball.
Peeta may have loved her since they were five, but he has never yet been her friend.
+++
Far too soon, it is time for the Victory Tour: strategically placed so as not to allow too much time to pass between Games. Peeta has tried not to spend much time thinking about it. It's not an occasion he welcomes - the Victory Tour means revisiting the arena. All of it, from the cameras and performing for the Capitol to the memories that meeting the families of the other tributes will surely bring on.
It also means a return to the act that he and Katniss must put on for the Capitol.
The first time she falls into his arms in front of the waiting camera crew, it feels completely wrong, yet completely right at the same time. She's heavier, less fragile than the last time he held her - it unbalances him and they go tumbling in the snow as her lips meet his. But the warmth of her, the feel of her is all too familiar. And there's a desperate passion and fervour in her kiss that he automatically responds to.
When they pull apart he sees that her face is strained with her smile. It stretches from cheek to cheek as though attempting to pull her apart.
She doesn't like this any more than I do. This thought flies into his head, reminding him that neither of them have a choice in this charade the Capitol has forced upon them.
Katniss slips her arm in his and tugs him towards the Justice Building. He offers her a smile and tries to convey in his eyes that this time, he understands. She doesn't seem to get it, but that's okay. They have a long tour in front of them; there will be time for him to show her.
In front of the cameras they will have to be lovers, but maybe this time, off the record, they need not pretend to be friends.
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Word Count: 1,633
Summary: So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends. Set between The Hunger Games and Catching Fire.
It's three weeks, three torturous weeks where he has to pretend that everything is fine - no, that everything is fantastic, rather, and that he is deliriously happy. He is the fairy tale hero of Panem, after all: Peeta Mellark, the boy who not only emerged as a victor of the Hunger Games, but who also won his heart's desire in the process.
It's not hard, of course, to show the cameras that he loves Katniss. In that, he has no need to act. But to pretend that loving her (and being 'loved' by her) gives him joy now ...
Peeta wishes desperately that the media attention would end and he could be left in peace with the ache from loving a girl who is only pretending to return his affections.
There is relief when the reporters and cameramen pack up and return to the Capitol and he and Katniss coolly part ways. The last evening, after the media has left and it is just Peeta and Katniss in the lobby of the Justice Building, she looks awkwardly at him.
'I guess ... I'll see you around,' she says slowly, the words stilted and uncertain.
He could hug her, give himself one last embrace before he has to walk away, but the thought that she might stiffen in his arms, his touch unwelcome to her, is enough to chill the thought. Instead, he extends his hand.
'I suppose,' he says, keeping his voice light and indifferent.
Katniss grips his hand, shakes it. In the space before they let go, her eyes meet his, and there is a look he cannot read in it. Part confusion and part question. Peeta forces himself to look away, drop her hand, and turn away.
It's what she wants, he reminds himself. He can give her this. What's that she said to him before? 'Don't let's pretend when there's no one around.'
The irony of it is not wasted on him: in order to allow her to stop pretending to love him, he will have to pretend, every day, that he does not love her as he does.
+++
Sometimes he thinks about the arena, memories that give him mixed feelings. There are memories that are unquestionably nightmares, dreams that shake him awake in the dead of the night, holding him so tightly in their grip that he dares not return to sleep. Not that it matters: even lying awake in bed he can see the pleading eyes of the girl from District 8 as he hastens her towards her end. He closed those eyes once she was gone, but they still haunt him.
He dreams of Cato: the twisted rage on Cato's face when Peeta held him back from chasing Katniss. The sick fear when Cato's sword, aimed for his heart, pierced his leg before Cato collapsed from the Tracker Jacker venom. And then Cato, whimpering among the Mutts as they slowly, agonisingly, tore him apart.
But woven in between these memories are the happiest ones of his life, too. The feel of Katniss's lips against his own, her body curled up next to his in the sleeping bag, nights in the cave when he believed that she had, against all odds, finally fallen for him. The thought that even if he was dying, he would die happy in her love. Sometimes these turn into nightmares, too, when Katniss vanishes in the dream or starts to bleed from the head, the way he found her after she brought him the medicine. The panic he feels in these are the worst; often he only manages to convince himself it's not real when the dawn's light brings the world around him into focus.
He tries at first to drive the memories out by baking: the methodical mixing and pounding helps. The aroma of freshly baked bread brings up the memory of Katniss, but a safer one, of her starving in his backyard so many years ago. It's not long, however, before he realises that try as he might to drive them out, the nightmares will always be there with him.
And so he begins to paint. His newfound wealth has given him access to paints and other mediums, allowing him to channel the creative energy he used to put into frosting onto canvas. He paints the arena, from the Cornucopia to the lake, to the woods and the caves by the stream and the mud he hid himself in for days. He paints the Mutts: razor sharp teeth and human-like eyes sharp and focused on killing. Most terrifying of all, he paints the other tributes: the children who died so that he and Katniss could live. When he wakes shaking from his nightmares, he paints them, as though setting them free on the canvas will release himself from them.
Slowly, he begins to paint Katniss, too. Katniss standing in her circle before the Cornucopia. Katniss with her bow and arrow pointed directly at him. Katniss looking utterly bewildered as he peers up at her from his hiding spot in the mud.
Katniss, her face shining with love and concern for him, against the misty backdrop of his fevered haze.
This last painting makes him angry. On canvas, the duplicity of her expression stares him in the eye. She could be looking at anyone with those adoring eyes - at that coal miner boyfriend of hers, perhaps. The thought of her smiling at Gale Hawthorne, showering him with kisses, feels repulsive. Perhaps it was Gale she thought of when pretending affection for Peeta.
He can't even look at her for weeks after that. It's impossible to miss seeing her coming and going, of course, but Peeta turns away, avoids her eyes, and ignores Katniss as much as possible whenever they pass each other.
One night he wakes from a dream in which he watches Katniss entwined around Gale. He finds himself in the room where he paints, staring at that portrait of Katniss. He thinks of destroying it. Then he realises that this nightmare, while painful, is nothing compared to the regular ones of blood, death, and terror from the arena. It even pales against his nightmares of her dying.
Forgiveness comes easier after that. It is easier to understand Katniss's duplicity, viewing it against the contrast of the arena. She was trying to survive - trying to help him survive as well. When her death figures as one of his worst fears, how can he blame her for doing whatever she could to keep alive? And maybe she wasn't in love with him, but she still risked her life to save his when she didn't have to.
Slowly, his coldness towards her ebbs away. He starts to bring baked goods to her house, a peace offering. Now, however, it seems that Katniss is avoiding him, too. She is rarely home, spending most of her time in the woods. He ends up leaving the bread with her mother or sister.
Primrose Everdeen, when she receives him, smiles and offers up in return offhanded tidbits of information about her sister: Katniss will love these buns, she's fond of the cheese; Plain loaves are good for sandwiches; Katniss will put wild turkey on them. She fills him in on how Katniss spends her days: sometimes visiting Madge Undersee, but more often hunting and delivering game to Gale's family, her friends from the Hob, and others who need it. Peeta starts to leave extra loaves for her to take along as well.
As he discovers these things about Katniss, he realises how little he actually knows about her. And he reminds himself that he can't possibly fault her for choosing Gale, who was her friend, who knew her for years before Peeta's name came out of that reaping ball.
Peeta may have loved her since they were five, but he has never yet been her friend.
+++
Far too soon, it is time for the Victory Tour: strategically placed so as not to allow too much time to pass between Games. Peeta has tried not to spend much time thinking about it. It's not an occasion he welcomes - the Victory Tour means revisiting the arena. All of it, from the cameras and performing for the Capitol to the memories that meeting the families of the other tributes will surely bring on.
It also means a return to the act that he and Katniss must put on for the Capitol.
The first time she falls into his arms in front of the waiting camera crew, it feels completely wrong, yet completely right at the same time. She's heavier, less fragile than the last time he held her - it unbalances him and they go tumbling in the snow as her lips meet his. But the warmth of her, the feel of her is all too familiar. And there's a desperate passion and fervour in her kiss that he automatically responds to.
When they pull apart he sees that her face is strained with her smile. It stretches from cheek to cheek as though attempting to pull her apart.
She doesn't like this any more than I do. This thought flies into his head, reminding him that neither of them have a choice in this charade the Capitol has forced upon them.
Katniss slips her arm in his and tugs him towards the Justice Building. He offers her a smile and tries to convey in his eyes that this time, he understands. She doesn't seem to get it, but that's okay. They have a long tour in front of them; there will be time for him to show her.
In front of the cameras they will have to be lovers, but maybe this time, off the record, they need not pretend to be friends.