Page 80 of Mate Night Snack
Katniss studied him for a moment, then passed him the metal bracket with a small smile. "Fine. But if you tear your stitches, I'm telling her it was your idea."
"Deal."
They worked in comfortable silence for a while, her holding pieces in place while he marked measurements and checkedlevels. It was domestic in a way that felt revolutionary, ordinary moments that carried the weight of everything they'd survived to reach this point.
"Left side's drooping," she said, stepping back to survey their progress.
"Your left or my left?"
"The swing's left. Our right. Whatever, it's crooked."
He adjusted the chain, his fingers brushing hers as they both reached for the same link. The contact sent warmth spiraling up his arm, the mate bond humming with contentment.
"Better?"
"Perfect." She grinned, the expression transforming her face from pretty to radiant. "Want to test it?"
They settled onto the swing together, her tucked against his uninjured side, the gentle rocking motion soothing in ways he hadn't expected. From here, they could see the forest trail that led to town, the garden where she'd first been attacked, the place where everything had started to change.
"It's peaceful," she said softly.
"It is now."
"Do you think it'll stay that way? The peace, I mean. Or will some other supernatural crisis come knocking on our door?"
"Probably." He gave her a kiss on the cheek, breathing in the scent of oranges and bergamot that had become as essential to him as air. "But we'll handle it when it comes. Together."
"Together," she agreed, snuggling closer. "I like the sound of that."
The afternoon passed in a blur of small tasks and smaller conversations. Hanging the swing properly. Testing its weight capacity. Debating cushion colors with the seriousness of people planning a state dinner. By the time the sun began its descent, they had a functional piece of furniture and an excuse to sit close together watching the world turn golden.
"We should get ready," Katniss said eventually, though she made no move to leave the comfort of his arms.
"Ready for what?"
"The dinner. Varric said six o'clock, remember? The whole town's coming."
Emmett groaned softly. He'd forgotten about the celebration dinner Hollow Oak had insisted on throwing in their honor. The idea of being the center of attention, of having his private happiness turned into a public spectacle, made his skin crawl.
"We could skip it," he suggested hopefully. "Tell them we're too tired. Or sick. Or dead."
"We're not skipping our own party." Katniss sat up, fixing him with a look that brooked no argument. "These people love us. They want to celebrate what we accomplished, what we survived. And after everything they've done for us, the least we can do is show up and eat Miriam's cooking."
"When you put it like that..."
"I always put it like that. It's called being right."
The Griddle & Grind had been transformed for the occasion, tables pushed together to form one long banquet setup, mismatched chairs arranged with the kind of careful chaos that spoke of community effort. Fairy lights strung between the rafters cast everything in warm, golden light, and the air was thick with the scent of Miriam's legendary pot roast and Twyla's magical honey rolls.
The entire town seemed to be there. Varric presided over one end of the table with the dignity of an elder statesman, while Maeve held court at the other end with stories that grew more outrageous with each telling. Callum and his quiet strength, the Tansley brothers with their eccentric charm, even Elder Bram had shown up, though he spent most of the evening looking like he'd accidentally wandered into someone else's celebration.
"Speech!" someone called out as the main course wound down.
"Speech!" others echoed, until the whole room was chanting and Emmett felt his face burn with embarrassment.
"I don't do speeches," he muttered to Katniss.
"Lucky for you, I do." She rose from her chair with the confidence of someone who'd never met a crowd she couldn't charm. "Thank you all for being here tonight. For welcoming me into your community, for protecting me when I needed it, for believing in us when we couldn't quite believe in ourselves."
