#little tiny friend for haymish

[pestis-blight]

[xerxia31]

My Heart - an Everlark Christmas drabble

My darling friend, @mega-aulover​ (also known as mega-idea-lady!!) sent me this gorgeous quote and challenged me to everlark it, and she’d do the same. I’m nothing if not obedient ;) Rated K for kinda cheesy ;)

Edited to add: find mega-aulover’s story here.

It’s the giggling that alerts him to the fact that something is very wrong.

Katniss, his best friend and roommate, is leaning against their kitchen door frame, giggling like a schoolgirl. But Katniss doesn’t giggle. Even when she was a schoolgirl, Katniss wasn’t a giggler. “Kat?” he calls out.

She jumps, whirling around, almost losing her balance, and that worries Peeta even more. He’s never, not once in twenty years of friendship, been able to sneak up on Katniss before. She has superhero-level hearing and incredible reflexes. He reaches out to steady her, and she leans into him, pressing her small body against his chest.

“Hey Peeta,” she says, drawing out the vowel sound, then giggles again. Her olive-toned cheeks are flushed, silver eyes glassy. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear…

“Are you… are you drunk?”

She grins up at him, heavy-lidded and so damned sexy he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something that might destroy their friendship. There’s a permanent divot there from how often he’s had to hold back words like I want you so bad. But Katniss has never seen him as more than a friend, so he keeps his long-held crush tightly in check. It’s hard, though, when he can feel her soft breasts against him, only her sweater and his button down between them.

“Nooooooo,” she says, but it sounds like yes to Peeta. “Was just havin’ some eggnog and readin’ our Christmas cards.” She wiggles her hand, where it’s still pressed against his chest and sure enough, there’s a piece of cardstock clutched in her fingers.

“The eggnog I made for Haymitch?” Peeta makes a batch of heavily rum-ladened traditional eggnog for their crotchety neighbour every year. He’d been intending on delivering it tonight, along with a platter of Christmas cookies.

“Was for Haymish? Ohhhh no, ssssorry!” Her expression is all wide-eyed innocence and Peeta snickers. With anyone else, he’d assume artifice, but Katniss is a terrible liar. He knows she genuinely didn’t realize. Though how she couldn’t taste that much rum is beyond him, just the smell of the concoction is enough to make Peeta tipsy. As if in response, Katniss sniffles and slumps a little more, and he remembers that’s why she’s home today. One of her plague-ridden students gave her a nasty cold.

“How much eggnog did you have anyway?” The fingers of her free hand flex against his chest, lifting one after the other as if counting, and she scrunches her face in deep thought, pink tongue sticking out between her teeth. When, after a protracted silence, she merely shrugs, he snickers. He hasn’t seen Katniss inebriated since the peach schnapps incident in their freshman dorm, more than seven years ago. He’d forgotten how completely adorable she is when her defences drop. “Come on, Sweetheart,” he says, amusement colouring his words. “You’re sloshed. Let’s get you settled in the living room.”

Katniss is tiny, but sick and hopped up on rum and cold medicine she’s unsteady. After struggling just to guide her as far as the hall, Peeta finally simply scoops her into his arms and carries her. She giggles more. “My hero,” she breathes, and while he thinks she’s teasing, her silver eyes are bright and soft with something he can’t quite name.

It’s a challenge to get to the next room, with the way she’s looking at him, and how the fingers of her free hand toy with the hair on the back of his neck. He can’t resist pressing a kiss to her sweetly scented ebony hair, and she sighs, nestling her head against his shoulder, her lips just grazing his neck. Times like these feed his daydreams, he’d like to freeze the moment and live in it forever. But all too soon, he’s lowering her onto the wide leather sofa, the one they chose together.

When he moves to stand again, she tightens her arms. “No,” she says. “Stay with me. Please, Peeta?” His heart cracks a little at her intensity. She’ll never understand the effect she has on him.

“Let me get you some water first,” he whispers, the desire to plant a kiss on those perfect pouty lips almost overwhelming. He takes a few deep breaths as he fills a glass, to get his libido under control, then heads back to join Katniss.

It wouldn’t have surprised him to find her passed out. Instead, she’s sitting upright, reading the card in her hand with a grin. When Peeta settles beside her, she hands him the card. It’s addressed to Peeniss, and he barks out a laugh. “Finnick,” Katniss says, leaning into him. Peeta wraps an arm around her shoulder. “That’s what I was laughing at when you came home.”

“Trust Finnick,” he chuckles.

“It’s nice, though,” she sighs, snuggling into his chest as he reclines against the plush cushions.

“Being called Peeniss?”

“No! Seeing both of our names on the card.” She pauses, yawning. “All of our Christmas cards come to us jointly. Like we’re a pair. I like it. Feels nice.” Peeta wraps a second arm around her, holding her even more closely, cradled against him. She’s drunk, he knows she wouldn’t be so candid otherwise. But he can’t help wondering how much truth there is in her rambling. “I like us,” she murmurs against his collar.

“I like us too,” he says, but she shakes her head, strands of glossy hair tickling his face.

“No, I mean I like us. I like you. More than that.” She trails off, and Peeta’s heart slams against his chest. He tries to remind himself that she's out of it, that she isn't really in command of her words. But in response to his silence, she lifts her head and searches his face.

After what feels like an eternity staring into her eyes, she raises one small, cool hand to cup his cheek. “You're my heart, Peeta. When I touch you, I touch happiness.” Her thumb strokes the stubble dotting his jaw and he leans into her caress, eyes slipping shut. The aching sincerity in her words is almost more than he can bear. He longs to tell her that she’s his heart too, and so much more. That he loves her, has loved her half his life and knows he’ll never stop. But he can’t. He knows this isn’t real.

Katniss slumps against him again, snuggled half on top of him. He strokes her back, her hair, as her breathing evens out. Eventually, he falls asleep too.

They wake up hours later, entwined like vines, Peeta’s neck stiff from the odd angle they slept in, Katniss grumpy from the cold and the waning alcohol in her system.

He's tense, not knowing how much she remembers of earlier, worrying about how awkward things are likely to get between them. As they lie face to face, he tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear and tries to smile despite the lingering ache of longing wrapped around his heart. Her scowl falters and falls, replaced by confusion. Then she touches his face, just like she had earlier, and smiles tentatively. “Real,” she whispers, answering the question he’s too afraid to give voice to. “My happiness. My heart.”