#jhsgf82

“Uncle Peeta, look at all the colors and the art they do on nails. It’s like what you do but on nails!” Zoe excitedly exclaimed.

Peeta chuckled. “I guess so, but I’ve never painted on a canvas that size before, so if you want to learn that, kiddo, I may not be as helpful.”

“I still want to learn to paint with you, Uncle Peeta,” Zoe ensured. “But maybe one day I can learn to do this, too.”

“And I believe you will, Zoe bean,” he replied and patted her blonde head affectionately. “Now come on, lets-”

Peeta’s voice trailed off when he noticed a petite girl around his age walk into the front of the shop from a backroom. She wore a sage green tee, a pair of ripped denim jeans, and black low top Converse. Her olive skin seemed to glow from the sunlight streaming through the window, and her hair was in an intricate single braid hanging over her shoulder. When she looked up, he was entranced by her smoky eyes. His artist's mind immediately wanted to commit it to memory, so he could try to recreate it later. She gave a small wave when she noticed Zoe and him.

Zoe saw her, too. It was hard not to when her uncle had suddenly stopped talking and was transfixed by something through the window. “Oh, she’s pretty, Uncle Peeta,” Zoe declared. She turned to look at her uncle, “Do you think she could teach me the nail stuff?”

Peeta was broken out of his trance by Zoe’s question. “I’m not sure, Zoe bean.”

At that moment, the door to the shop opened, and the girl with the braid stepped out. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Can you teach me how to do pretty art on nails?” Zoe unabashedly questioned before her uncle could even utter a single word.

The girl with the braid lowered herself to Zoe’s height. “I’d be happy to, but I think you need to ask your dad first if that’s okay.”

“He’s not my dad. He’s my uncle. Uncle Peeta doesn’t have kids. My dad says he’s a bachelor.” Zoe shared matter-of-factly. Peeta couldn’t help but cringe at the last statement.

“Oh, is that so?” The smoky eyed girl looked up at him, amusement evident on her face and in her tone. 

“Mhmmm” was Zoe’s answer. 

The girl returned her attention to Zoe and said, “Let me talk to your uncle and see if he’s okay with me showing you what I can do.”

Zoe giddily nodded in response.

The shop girl stood back up to her full height. “Seems like you have your hands full with her, Uncle Peeta.” She teasingly remarked.

“Kids, right?” Peeta internally cringed. He was usually good with words, but at this exact moment, he couldn’t think of a wittier thing to say.

“She reminds me of my sister when she was around her age. I’m Katniss.” She extended her hand for a handshake. 

“And as you know, I’m Peeta, and this is my niece Zoe.” When he reciprocated her action, he couldn’t help but notice how his hand engulfed hers in a perfect fit. 

Katniss seemed to have noticed as well, judging by how she stared down at their entwined hands. After a beat, she spoke up. “If it’s okay with you, I’m more than happy to take her into the shop and give her a personalized demo of what I do.”

“Well, we were headed to the art store, but we can do that after. It’s hard to say no to her. It might be why I’m her favorite uncle.” He sheepishly admitted.

Katniss smiled at his confession. “I get it. I have a hard time saying no with my sister, and she’s a grown adult now.”

She then squatted down to Zoe’s height. “So Zoe, what do you say we go inside, and I’ll teach you some nail art? You can choose the colors and design.”

Zoe squealed in delight. “Okay!!”

--

Peeta quietly and contentedly watched Zoe interact with Katniss, telling her what her favorite colors were and what design she wanted on her nails - dandelions. Katniss was happy to indulge Zoe’s requests and stuck true to her word, explaining to Zoe step-by-step what she was doing.

Zoe was extremely pleased with the results of her nails - a sky blue base with alternating white fluffy dandelions and yellow ones - and asked her Uncle Peeta if she could use his phone to take pictures and send them to her parents. 

With no hesitation, Peeta handed her his phone. “Of course, kiddo. You do that while I finish here with Katniss.”

Peeta turned his attention to Katniss and smiled shyly at her. “Thanks again for doing this. When Zoe sets her mind to something, she likes to see it through.”

Katniss warmly replied, “It’s my pleasure. Like I said, she reminded me of my sister, so I get it.” 

“So how much for all of this?” Peeta awkwardly asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Peeta ran his hand through his blond waves, feeling guilty at the thought. “But you gave us so much of your time and indulged Zoe when I’m sure you had other things you needed to do.” 

“The company was enough,” Katniss countered. “But if you really must, I like food.”

Peeta took a quick moment to process her words.Did he hear what he thought he heard? Was she possibly interested in him like he was in her? Judging by the faint blush on her cheeks and her looking shyly at him, he must have.

“I can do that.” Realizing Zoe had his phone, he grabbed his wallet from his pocket, took a business card out of it, and handed it to her. “Here’s my number. Call me, maybe?” He internally cringed again. There was something about her that had him stumbling for words.

She quietly laughed at his poor attempt at flirting. “I will.”

He widely grinned in response before turning his attention back to Zoe who was by the door tapping away on his phone. “Okay, Zoe bean, let’s go to the art store now.”

He and Zoe walked out and headed to the art store. Peeta looked down at Zoe and shook his head. His favorite (and only) niece unknowingly played matchmaker today with a beautiful woman who may be the love of his life. (Spoiler alert: she is).

She winds her arms around the pillow and stares at the glowing red numbers, listens to the sounds of the house. Her lips curl slightly when she hears it. The muffled, unmistakable tread in the hallway. He was never very good about walking silently. He always seems to forget which portions of the hallway creak and crack beneath his feet, even when he’s trying desperately to be quiet.

The door opens, the change in the sounds of the heater alerting her more than anything else. If it wasn’t churning warm air through the house, she wouldn’t have even noticed. He can’t walk silently, but he can slip through doors without a trace, she thinks as the sounds change again, the door closing.

Katniss lifts her head and silently watches him sit at the foot of the bed, removing and setting aside his prosthesis. This tells her he was still awake when she sent the text. She almost asks what took him so long, but then she notices the damp sheen of his hair, just at the nape of his neck. He must have been taking a shower.

Trying to relax. Without her.

He braces his hands on the mattress behind him and slides up the bed towards her. Reaching behind her, Katniss lifts the sheets and Peeta slips beneath them. A few moments of adjustment and he’s curled around her body, his arm a heavy blanket about her torso, a solid pillow beneath her head.

He nuzzles her neck and she shivers slightly. The scent of his soap envelopes her. Fresh. Crisp. Why does he always smell like spring, she wonders, even in the chill of fall? Peeta rests his lips where his nose just brushed and Katniss melts. She detests how easily he discovered that spot. Resents how quickly he learned its power over her. She craves his lips there far more than she would like to admit.

“Alright?” He whispers, his words a tendril of warm steam over the place on her neck where only his lips dare to rest. Dare to awaken her. She’s come to think of that as his spot.

Katniss laces their fingers together, holding his hand secure on her abdomen. 

“For now.”

Peeta inhales and her lungs join his. Air in. Then out. A relieved exhalation as their bodies release tension along with the air. Eyes drift closed. Thoughts meander into the void, and slowly, slowly… limbs pull her towards slumber, cradled in arms that warm, comfort, protect.

In the morning, she tells herself. In the morning she will decipher what it means, this nagging, gnawing need to have him near in the darkness. Ever since that night the storm rolled through and terrified Aurora so much that the three of them wound up sleeping in Katniss’ bed together, a tangle of limbs and sweaty torsos in the hot summer air, huddled against the roaring wind and the fury of a hurricane, the sharp pounding thwacks of rain over the roof and walls. The oppressive darkness with the power out and no sign of return until the storm had passed. The hushed, harsh breathing of Aurora wedged between them, Katniss’ voice crooning lullabies, Peeta’s hands soothing on them both. Buttercup trembling beneath the blankets. 

In the morning, Katniss decides, she’ll finally figure out why after that night in particular, she could let Aurora go back to her bed, but not let Peeta return to his. In the morning, Katniss will determine why she still reaches out for him in the middle of the night. Why she needs him to stay. With her.

But not tonight.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, brushing hair back off her forehead and nibbling the last spot of tension from her shoulder.

Sleep. Such a luxury.