Gratitude

Summary: AU – What if Katniss had gotten a chance to thank Peeta for the bread the next day? drama/angst oneshot

Writer's note: So, new fandom for me…I write mostly character exploration pieces instead of stories proper so if that's not your thing, feel free not to read. Feedback (good or bad) for this is welcome.

I don't own HG, obviously.

I was dreading school the next day. Normally, I never do that. School to me is what it is for most of the kids in District 12, maybe even most everyone in Panem: a pastime till you get to the place you're ultimately destined to go, as though you never went to school in the first place. The mines. The squalor of working at one of the shops. Wherever. Whatever.

So no, I had no reason to worry about going to school. But for that one day, the boy with the bread had changed that.

I don't know why I dreaded the notion of running into Peeta Mellark so much. It wasn't like I really knew him. I'd see him around at school. He was the baker's son. He baked. I was the miner's daughter. I hunted, fished, gathered. It wasn't like we ever ran in the same circles. The most I'd see of the Mellarks was when I'd see Peeta's father for our bartering. Peeta was never around then.

Why was I so anxious at the thought of running into him now?

Whatever the case may be, I had to say thank you. It was the least I could do. But I had the strangest feeling that I shouldn't talk to Peeta at all.

It was ridiculous, of course. Had to be. It wasn't like he'd let me borrow a pen in class. This was so much more. I had to show him my gratitude.

And yet…and yet…something held me back. Even now, I can't really put my finger on what it was. For some unknown reason, I just didn't want to approach him.

Not that it mattered. I hung around after school, finding him in a classroom sweeping up. I was surprised. Why would the baker's son be doing that? It wasn't his job. And it wasn't like he needed the money, even if it were. But it did explain where he went to after school every day.

Of course, it was entirely possible he was killing time so he wouldn't have to go to the bakery right away. Take time from being away from his evil, abusive witch of a mother.

Taking a deep breath that I had no idea why I was taking, I stepped into the classroom. Thankfully, we were alone.

He looked up and saw me and dropped the broom, taken aback. Damn. The last thing I wanted to do was make this any more uncomfortable than it was already.

For a few seconds, he gazed at me somewhat quizzically. Suddenly at a loss for words, I gazed back. As though we were both in some unofficial staring contest.

Well, this was getting ridiculous.

"Hi," I blurted out.

"Hi," murmured Peeta, still holding my gaze, though it had softened now, looking more like curiosity than shock.

"I'm Katniss," I said stupidly.

Peeta's mouth quirked very slightly, his eyes and expression looking more relaxed, almost knowing. "I know who you are," he said. He paused a few seconds. "Peeta," he added.

"I know who you are too," I squirmed uncomfortably. "I see your dad around at your bakery."

"Right," he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to me.

I cleared my throat, trying to make my voice sound less, I don't know? Embarrassed? Anxious? Something else? "So, listen. I just…I wanted to say thank you. For, you know, yesterday."

For a second I wondered if he would know what I was talking about. So what if it had happened just yesterday? For all I knew, he really had been tossing the bread out for the pigs. Or maybe he fed multitudes of poor pathetic 12 citizens every day, people who also went through his trash cans, and he couldn't be bothered to keep track of them all.

But Peeta didn't look confused at all. "Don't mention it," he said quietly, breaking eye contact with me for the first time to pick up his dropped broom.

Awkward silence. I was about to say thanks again and back out of the room when –

"Um, was it okay?" Peeta's voice was barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"The bread. It wasn't too burnt, was it?"

He sounded like he was trying to be offhand. Hide the concern in his voice, like he didn't want me to know he cared.

But why would he do that?

Before I could ponder this too deeply, I realized he was gazing at me again. "Oh, yes, no, it was great! Not burnt at all."

My face began to flush. But if Peeta had taken note of this, he was acting like he hadn't. "Good," he said, sounding casual. But with a very real, detectable note of sincerity in his voice. "I'm glad it was okay."

"It was fine."

Well, mission accomplished. Good, now I could escape before I said anything truly stupid to him.

Or so I thought. Because to my horror, before I could stop myself, I heard myself blurt out: "Are you okay?"

Silence.

"What do you mean?" This time his tone wasn't concerned. More like abrupt.

Oh, shit.

"Um," I fumbled.

What was I supposed to say to him, as he looked at me so intensely with those blue eyes? Thank you for saving my life by getting hit to give me a couple of loaves of burnt bread, and oh yeah, by the way, she didn't hit you too hard, did she? Because I'd hate for you to get beaten to a pulp all because of poor, useless me.

I swallowed. Hard. Well, more like gulped, like a guppy Gale and I had pulled out of a pond on one of our fishing excursions. "Well, um, it's just that, well…your mother…"

I looked down. I didn't know how to finish the sentence. Not that I needed to. I glanced at Peeta, who, thankfully, had looked away too so I couldn't gauge his reaction at my sudden, incredible tactlessness.

Had I made him angry? Upset? Did he regret giving me the bread now with every single fiber of his being? Probably.

But if that was the case, again, he acted like he didn't show it. "It's okay," he said in a resigned, world-weary voice. "We were going to throw it out anyway. My mother didn't mind."

Like hell she didn't. Peeta was ever the diplomat, so careful with words. It was pretty clear what he was trying not to say: I'm used to her knocking me around. As if the horror he'd faced yesterday what just what his life was like every single day.

Outrage and sympathy suddenly rose in my heart for poor Peeta Mellark. I realized I couldn't stand it. I had to get out of there before I thought about him too much harder. Besides, Gale was probably looking for me anyway – I was late to meet him at our usual hunting spot.

Not knowing what else to say, not that I wanted to risk putting my foot in my mouth again anyway, I was about to leave when suddenly Gale strode into the room.

"There you are, Catnip. I've been looking everywhere for you. I thought we were supposed to meet in the woods today…" Gale's voice suddenly trailed off as he noticed we weren't alone.

"Oh, uh, hi," said Gale strangely to Peeta, almost shooting a why-are-you-talking-to-him look in my direction. "Um, Peeta, right?"

But it was Peeta's expression that, mysteriously enough, had changed most of all. Suddenly he looked strained, his expression tightening up as though he'd seen something he didn't want to see. "Yeah, hey," he said stiffly. He looked away as though he couldn't stand to be there, playing with the broom in his hands, twirling the handle over and over.

Gale looked at him uncertainly, then at me. "Uh, Katniss, we should probably get going. It's getting late. I mean, if you're done here…"

Peeta continued to look away, playing with the broom. I could've sworn I saw his nostrils flare. I didn't know what was the matter with him. Was it Gale? I don't think he knew Gale at all, except to see him around school.

"Yeah, I'm done. We were just talking," I said to Gale. "I need to go by the house, pick up a couple of things. Can we meet there in 20 minutes?"

Gale was looking curiously at Peeta again. Peeta continued to play with the broom, avoiding both our eyes.

"Yeah, that's fine. See you then." Gale nudged my arm and left.

Finally about to go, I started to head toward the door when another interruption stopped me. And a most peculiar one at that.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Peeta blurted out.

I frowned. Where on earth had that come from? "What?"

Peeta gestured toward the door Gale had just walked out of.

"Gale?" I asked incredulously. Hardly. Gale and I were many things to each other, but anything romantic was hardly one of them. "No. Why?"

Peeta looked away again, his face reddening. "I was just wondering," he mumbled under his breath almost inaudibly. "Never mind." His face turned an even darker shade of red.

What was the matter with him? I had no idea.

I realized I didn't really want to spend any more time in the company of Peeta Mellark. "I should really get going. Thanks again." I hoisted my bag on my other shoulder, then something occurred to me. Gale walking in, talking about meeting at in the woods. Peeta had to know what that meant, that we were hunting illegally beyond the fence. If anyone found out...

Once again, Peeta jumped in, as though he was reading my mind. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone what he said." He looked me right in the eyes. And I knew he meant it. Although, great, something else I now owed him one for.

"Thanks," I said hastily. "See you around."

"Bye," he murmured, sounding plaintive as I was going out the door.

So, that's Peeta, I thought distractedly as I quickened my pace to hurry and catch up with Gale. I was glad he'd been nice about the whole thing, but I really didn't like the idea of owing him any favors. Not that he'd acted like I owed him, but I still did. Though maybe I would find a way to repay him one day.

And if not, what the hell. It didn't matter. I mean, it wasn't like I was going to see Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread, ever again.