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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 6 months

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Since you're on a 9000 RPM answer kick right now, I'm so curious...

Peeta, knowing that Katniss was married, showed up to the race with parts for Katniss' car.

Was he hoping she was divorced? (Possibly having heard her name announced at the track as 'Everdeen'?) Or was my mans just so unbelievably still thirsting over her that he was willing to risk it all?

This is a question I prefer to answer with a few scenes from Peeta's pov rather than trying to explain it. Hope you enjoy!

<3 kdnfb

“You’re shitting me, right?” Peeta asks and glances to his left, pushing his body closer to the wall and the pay phone he’s using so an old man can get past him to the bathroom.

“I wouldn’t shit you. You’re my favorite turd,” Levi retorts. Peeta would laugh at the joke, since he walked right into it, if what his brother just told him weren’t so fucking ridiculous. “It’s the best we could do. Mom and I don’t have time to sit around Capitol, waiting on a bus, and I’m not asking Leah to do it. She’s got enough on her plate with the kids. This was the best we could do.”

“I get that,” Peeta says and shifts his frame again as yet another person excuses themselves to get by him. This pay phone is horribly placed, he thinks with a frown. “It’s just… really?”

“Think of it like you parked it at the bus station and just left it there… without stealing it.”

“Does it at least have gas in it?”

“Didn’t look,” his brother says and Peeta bites back a curse. “Keys are in the glove box.”

Peeta opens his mouth to ask what the fuck he’s supposed to do if someone realizes between now and then that the truck is unlocked and steals it, but there’s a loud crash and the sound of a child screaming.

“Fuck. I gotta go. Call us when you get to Capitol.”

The line disconnects and Peeta snaps his mouth shut. Then hangs up the phone with a little too much force. He listens to his change dropping down into the reservoir and clenches his jaw, breathing deeply a few times before he turns back around and returns to where he left his bag by the diner counter. His burger has arrived and he sits down to eat, keeping one eye on the bus terminal across the way to make sure he hasn’t misjudged the timing and gets left here without enough cash to buy another ticket home.

He swallows and rinses the food down with a coke. Barely flicking a smile and a “Thanks” at the waitress when she brings the check. When he’s done eating, he feels like a dick for leaving the tip almost all in change, but at this point, it’s better to assume that he’s going to need the bills he has left to put gas in the truck. It’s highly unlikely Levi thought to leave their dad’s old truck at the bus terminal with enough gas for Peeta to get home.

He doesn’t miss his bus, and even though the seats are still as uncomfortable as they were on the first leg of this trip, he manages to get some sleep. Probably because he’s just so damn tired at this point.

The bus driving over a speed bump and jostling violently enough to make a few of the passengers cry out is what wakes him. Peeta rubs the sleep from his eyes and blinks through the tinted windows at the eerily familiar bus terminal in Capitol City. It’s like he never left. He’s pretty sure he recognizes some of the graffiti on the wall and there’s still trash caught in the grass and weeds growing up against the chain link fence.

Thankfully though, there are no flat tires on the truck. It hasn’t been stolen, and his brother left half a tank of gas. It’s enough, barely, to at least get him in the right county. He’ll probably still have to stop for gas somewhere around Seam.

The thought makes him pause, mid action while he’s pulling on the seatbelt. Maybe he should stop here for gas, he decides. Not that he thinks Katniss will still be in Seam, Alabama. But he’s paid attention to the new drivers in Tribute League every year and still hasn’t seen her name. Not as Katniss Everdeen, and not as Katniss Hawthorne.

He finishes buckling and drives off the lot, finding a gas station before heading towards the interstate. The drive goes by faster than he’d expect or want, dreading his return home. And that goes much as he’d expect, too. His mother gives him a perfunctory hug before telling him supper will be ready in a few minutes and she left clean sheets on for him on a bed upstairs but she didn’t have a chance to make it.

He drops his bags in the old room he used to share with his brother and stares at the makeshift cot his mother set up for him, shoved against the wall. A set of clean, folded sheets sitting on top with a lumpy, stained pillow. Most of the room is taken up with several tables covered in craft projects at various stages of completion. Macrame, ceramics, mosaics set in stepping stones, jewelry and wind chimes.

Well if he’s staying, he’s going to need his own place, he thinks with a wry twist of his lips.

The next few days are about as bad as he expected them to be. His last Baja check arrives, less than he was hoping for because he had to bow out before the season was over. He discovers just how fucking uncomfortable sleeping on a rickety old cot can be.

And he has to be present at his father’s funeral. Which he has nothing appropriate to wear to and has to borrow clothes from Levi, including a tie he has no idea how to tie. In the end, his brother ties it for Peeta, in brusque movements while they stand outside the church and his brother berates him for everything from his shoes looking scuffed to the fact that he never learned how to tie a necktie.

Somehow, he manages not to laugh or snort or scoff when anyone talks about what a great man his father was. A devoted husband and father. Eventually, he just stops listening and bows his head, hoping his body language can pass for contemplative rather than annoyed as fuck.

But eventually, the old bastard is in the ground and Peeta is somehow the one his mother holds onto as they walk back to the cars. Her heels keep sinking into the grass, so they have to walk slowly. By the time they make it to the house, his brothers are already hosting the guests, accepting casseroles and other assorted food. More condolences and thoughts on how much Bobby Mellark will be missed.

Unable to handle it a second longer, Peeta makes sure his mother is established on the sofa with a drink and then retreats upstairs. He shrugs out of the borrowed sports coat and yanks off the borrowed tie. Kicks off the thrift store dress shoes and flops onto the cursed cot to stare at the wall and ignore the murmur of voices and weeping from downstairs.

Eventually, he falls asleep and wakes up with a crick in his neck. He stretches and changes into jeans, surprised to see that it’s still light outside before heading downstairs.

“Oh good. You can help me get all this mess in the fridge,” his mother says and Peeta falls in, covering the dishes with foil or plastic wrap according to her dictates and finding places for everything in the fridge, all while his mother sits at the counter talking to her good friend, Francesca Cartwright, and sipping on cheap wine.

When he’s done with that, he finds Donald Cartwright in the living room, kicked back in his dad’s old recliner and watching a baseball game. Without a word, Peeta slips past him, out to the garage where he yanks on his boots and grabs his tool bag, tossing it in the truck before driving off.

He has no set plan except away. He’s been aimlessly driving around town for almost an hour when it occurs to him what he really wants to do. It somehow feels fitting. The only right thing to do after burying his father.

Stopping at an auto parts store, Peeta grabs an assortment of parts. He doesn’t want to consider what it means that almost everything he grabs works for a Chevy. He blows the last bit of his cash on the stockpile and throws up a silent thanks that Donald agreed to hire him on full time, starting Monday next week. At least he’ll make this wad back.

As he drives to the track just outside of Seam, he kneads the steering wheel and tries to calm the nervous butterflies crashing around his gut. He has no way of knowing if she’ll even be there. If she’s even driving tonight or if Gale is. Or maybe he’s missed her rise entirely.

And if she is there, what is he going to do about it? She’s married. He’ll probably wind up just watching her and feeling like a schmuck who lost out. Although there is a part of Peeta that’s morbidly curious to see her with Gale. To see what exactly he lost out to.

By the time he makes it to the track, he’s convinced himself that this is a form of closure. A full circle stop on his journey of escaping his father’s fists and his drunken diatribes against Peeta’s worthlessness. Because Katniss was the first person he met when he ran away from home. And she was the first person who made him feel significant, valuable, wanted, even loved, if only for a night.

He parks in the grass field and leaves his tool bag in the truck. Pays for a ticket and finds a seat just as they’re announcing the lineup of drivers. He spots her car within seconds. Still looks the same except more beat up and worn a little more. In desperate need of a paint job. He waits as the names go down the list.

“And number twelve, Katniss Everdeen!”

Everdeen?

He claps, but he’s one of the few in the stands who does. By the time they finish, Peeta’s still mulling over the name. Then again, maybe Katniss chose not to change her name, he reminds himself. It’d be seen as odd around here, but it’s not impossible. He rests his forearms on his thighs and leans forward to watch the start. Within a few laps, he’s smiling to himself. Damn, she’s good.

Not quite as improved as he would’ve expected after five years, but it’s a thing of beauty, watching her maneuver her car around the track, into tight spaces most would flinch away from to pass the other drivers.

She does take a few hard hits, and when the race ends with her in fifth place, Peeta spends a few minutes debating. After all, she did say that she and Gale take turns driving the car. If it’s her night to drive, Gale would likely still be here as her pit crew.

Unless he’s not. He wasn’t here the night Peeta first saw Katniss drive.

Finally, he caves. Grabs his bag from the truck, tossing in a few spare parts he thinks she might need based on the way the car looked and sounded to be handling on the track. He heads towards the pasture that serves as a pit area and finds her pretty fast. She’s still driving her dad’s truck. That’s another sign in his favor, Peeta thinks as he approaches.

She’s got the hood of the car propped up and is staring into the engine bay with annoyance. She’s still so beautiful it makes his heart ache over what could have been. If he hadn’t been running from his father. If he hadn’t been desperate to get away. If he hadn’t already signed a contract in Levi’s name with the baja team. If if if what if.

She doesn’t look that different. More filled out in places. Her hips definitely look wider and curvier and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to having a few x-rated thoughts when he notices. Her hair is braided back again, a few wisps escaping in the humid air, a few sticking to her face and neck with perspiration. The tank top she’s wearing is old and worn enough that he can see the outline of her bra and the ring of sweat stains under her arms.

As he gets closer, he can hear her muttering.

“Obstinate no good hunk of junk. You just remember that Rodney got replaced by Rhonda the pitbull and she just had puppies. I can sell you to the junkyard and the whole litter will piss on you.”

In that moment, he knows. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be tonight. Even if she’s married still. He’ll be able to take this one perfect moment home with him tonight and live off the memory of her like this for another five years.

“Still bad mouthing your baby,” he says and her entire frame goes completely rigid. Does she remember him? He pokes to see if she does. “She’ll never purr for you if you threaten her.”

Katniss whirls around, a dark glare on her face. His smile wavers and he hesitates at the naked fury… and fear? That he sees in her eyes. But his father was probably right about how dumb Peeta is, he thinks, because he still opens his mouth and keeps talking.

“I half expected you and Gale to be on the NASCAR circuit by now as a kickass husband-wife duo.”

“Life didn’t turn out that way. Yet,” she says and he nods. He can understand dreams taking longer to achieve than you expected, after all. “How was baja?”

So she does remember. He works hard not to grin at her for it. “Great.”

“So why’re you here?”

“Missed home after all.” She stares at him, her piercingly gray eyes making it clear she doesn’t believe him. So he shrugs. “And my dad died, so I was expected at the funeral.”

“Well, sorry for your loss,” she says and turns back to the car.

“Don’t be.”

He can’t leave, although he probably should. Before her husband shows up and kicks his ass. If he were her husband, he’d kick his own ass for the things he’s already done to her. The things he’s imagined doing to her. Just for having the audacity to approach her five years after making love to her followed by five years of nothing. But he can’t leave, so he moves to stand next to her, keeping his eyes on her and greedily searching for any kind of sign that she might still want him around or be interested in him. For a moment, for forever.

She crosses her arms over her belly and seems to shrink in on herself. The motion is so unlike the girl he remembers that it catches him off guard. Maybe she’s afraid of what will happen if Gale shows up, it occurs to him. Although that thought enrages him, he tries for a light tone as he pries.

“So should I scram before your husband welcomes me with a shotgun?” She snorts and looks over at him with a scowl. Only it’s less fierce this time.

“I could use a mechanic. But I might not be able to pay you,” she says, and they’re the best words he’s heard in a long time. His smile feels inevitable. Uncontainable. But he still doesn’t know about Gale.

“Same deal? And maybe watch my back so I don’t get shot.”

“Gale won’t be here,” she tells him and then waves towards the race car. “Alimony, you remember Peeta. Peeta, this is Alimony.”

He whistles and sets his bag down, trying not to break into a celebratory dance. It’s probably awful of him, being glad she’s divorced, but on the same token, she’s still a kickass driver and a gorgeous woman. Any sane man would be crawling on hands and knees for a chance with her. “No offense, but you got screwed.”

“In more than one way,” she mutters. He doesn’t comment on that, because how her marriage ended is none of his business… yet. But he grins as he digs the spare fuel line he bought tonight out of his bag.

“I brought something with me. Just for you.”

“A brand new fuel line. Got a radiator hose in that bag of tricks, too?”

“Glad you asked,” he says and produces that too. She smiles at him and his heart starts doing cartwheels. Coming here tonight, he decides, was the best decision he’s ever made.

“You sure know how to spoil a girl.”

#9000 rpm nonsense #words are peetas thing not mine #ten years of fanfiction mania #triassictricerratops #look at that ask

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