Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Characters:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2016-07-20
Words:
382
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
7
Kudos:
67
Bookmarks:
7
Hits:
768

A Field of Yellow Flowers

Summary:

An expansion of this quote from page 233 of Catching Fire: “During the next two days, I spend time with almost everybody headed for the arena. Even the morphlings, who, with Peeta’s help, paint me into a field of yellow flowers.”

Notes:

This was posted on my tumblr a year ago. Thanks for reading! Come follow me on tumblr at safeinpeetasarms :)

Work Text:

I lie back on a mat while Peeta and the morphlings mix different dyes in small pots until they get the colors right. They start on my legs, painting the yellow petals of the dandelions onto my pants. Peeta directs them on how to space out the flowers, but not too evenly so that they look natural. Then he positions himself on my right, turning my face toward him gently. “Close your eyes,” he whispers. I do, and his fingers gently brush the cold paint across my eyelids. I feel his warm breath on my face and I shiver.

“Hold still,” Peeta says, and I don’t have to see his face to know he’s smiling.

“Sorry,” I say.

When he’s finished with my eyelids, he moves to the apples of my cheeks. He tells me I can open my eyes again when he starts on my mouth. My eyes meet his as his thumb smears paint on my lower lip and warmth rushes through me.

“Peeta, come here a sec,” I say. He leans down and I lift my head up to close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. When I pull back, he has a smear of yellow paint around his mouth and I laugh.

“Hey!” he says, but he’s laughing too. He kisses me again briefly and then wipes the paint off his face with the back of his hand.

The morphlings move upward from my legs to my stomach as Peeta moves downward and I silently hope that there’s enough paint on my face to cover my blush as Peeta paints my chest.

Other colors come too as they add the green flower stems and grass and Peeta paints in the shadows. The morphlings listen raptly as he explains how he knows where to shadow and they copy his work.

When Peeta pronounces their work to be complete, I get a good look at myself for the first time. My skin, my clothes, everything has disappeared and in its place is a field full of dandelions.

I look, very simply, like spring itself. “It’s beautiful,” I say. “Thank you.”

The morphlings smile at me and I feel a pang in my chest at the thought of facing them in the arena in just a few days