The mushroom stew burns my throat as I swallow it. After dancing, Newt and I decided to eat half the stew, and save the other half for tomorrow morning, considering there is a lot more of it than the rabbit stew from yesterday. In hindsight, I think that maybe letting it cool for longer than five seconds would probably have been a good idea. I wince as I take my second mouthful and Newt does the same. I take a long sip of cool water and exhale loudly.
"Should probably let it cool," I mutter, and hear Newt laugh.
"Good that, love," he says, and we set our plates down on the stone floor. He raises his arms to the sides and gestures towards me. I gratefully sink into his comforting embrace and listen to his heartbeat against my ear. Slowly, his hands make their way to my head and he takes the bronze ribbon from its bun.
"Newt?" I ask, laughing. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," he says, and strokes my hair softly, brushing it through. He places the ribbon on the floor and begins to braid my hair slowly, being careful enough to take it practically strand by strand, and I smile.
"How do you know how to braid hair?" I question.
"My mum always used to brush Lizzy's hair before bed," he answers, "and I guess I picked it up somehow."
"Okay," I say as he ties the ribbon on the end and lets it rest over my shoulder. I examine the end carefully. It's not perfect, and some strands are falling out already, but it's the thought that counts, right?
"Thanks, Newt. It's beautiful," I murmur and turn my head so I'm facing him. Now it's me who leans in to press our lips together.
"Any bloody time, love," he murmurs against my lips, and I can smell the mint he ate today on his breath even after I've pulled back to examine his chocolate eyes. A traitorous blush rises on my cheeks and spreads all over my face, but I feel better when I see that he's turning red, too. I turn away slowly in embarrassment and he does the same, picking up the bowl of stew.
"This is cooler now," he mutters, and hands me a spoon. I grin at him and take a spoonful of the stew. It's not amazing, but it's something. Once we've finished half of it, both of us look at the bowl with yearning.
"Hey, Newt, we can hunt some more tomorrow, right?" I ask apprehensively, looking at the bowl. He grins up at me.
"Really, love?" he asks, and my stomach groans in response. He shrugs. "Fine by me."
It only takes the best part of ten minutes for us to finish it off, and we're both trying to eat it slowly to savour it as much as possible. I fall back onto the stone with my head on Newt's shoulder.
"Hey, I have another idea!" he whisper-shouts.
"It's not dancing, is it? I'm too tired to dance aga-"
"No, it's not bloody dancing," he says, and in answer to my questioning look, he fills up the now-clean bowl from the floor, fills it with fresh water and plucks a few mint leaves from the pile into the bowl. Wasting no time, he throws them into the bowl, places a few more sticks on the fire to keep it burning and then sets the bowl on top of the sticks. I grin.
"Thanks again, Newt," I tell him wearily, resting my head again on his shoulder. He strokes the braid in my hair, and within a few minutes, the water is boiling and Newt takes the bowl off the flames. I begin to lift the bowl up to take a sip before Newt removes my fingers and takes the bowl himself, despite the fact that it's burning hot.
"Hey, wait just one bloody minute," he says, laughing. "You'll burn your mouth off. Again."
"Hmm," I reply in semi-agreement, but the minute or so of waiting for it to cool is pure agony. Finally, when Newt nods his head in approval, I reach for the bowl and swallow what must be half of it in one gulp. It isn't as well-made as the Capitol version, which was sweetened with sugar, but somehow it tastes better. Exactly like the mint tea I drank with my father, Chuck, and Newt on the day of the reaping.
As if Newt can read my thoughts, he begins to speak. "Ever since that bloody morning, before the reaping, mint tea has kind of been like a way to feel...." he trails off, as if he can't find the word.
"At home," I finish for him, and he nods in agreement and takes a sip of the tea.
"At home," he repeats, and I take his pause as an opportunity to swallow the rest of the tea in one gulp. "Hey!" Newt protests, and I shrug.
"We can make some more tomorrow, right?" I ask.
"I guess so," he sighs in both exasperation and amusement, and pushes the bowl away. I rest my head on his shoulder again, and he keeps stroking the braid.
"I'm tired," I murmur after only a few minutes. He looks at me, and gives me a mischievous smile. Suddenly, he stands up, pushing me off him, and I'm concerned until his arms curl around my body and he picks me up bridal-style over to the sleeping bag.
"Newt! Put me down," I order him, and he ignores me. "Newt!" I protest. "It's my turn to keep watch!"
"Nope," Newt replies, popping the 'p' as he lowers me onto the sleeping bag.
"You're not giving in, are you, Newt?" I ask in exasperation. Newt draws the covers over me.
"Nope," he repeats and kisses me lightly on the forehead. "Sleep tight, love."
"Newt," I protest. "Wake me up tonight, okay? It's my turn to keep watch."
"Will do," he says, and slips in beside me. "Just go to bloody sleep." His fingers keep stroking my hair. "I'll be right here."
With his comforting words, I let the black abyss of sleep consume me.
YOU ARE READING
The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader
Fanfiction(y/n) (y/l/n). A girl from the Seam in District Twelve. She lives under the control of the Capitol with her father and younger brother Chuck. She has avoided the Hunger Games her entire life and has instead focused on putting food on her family's ta...
