Just like every night, Katniss rolled over and said, "You don't have to stay."

I bit back a sigh. Didn't she see that I stayed because I wanted to? Because maybe, oh-I-don't-know, I liked it? Because she needed me? Because this was important to me?

"It's not an issue," I said instead, forcing a weak smile. "Warmer over here."

Katniss just grunted, closing her eyes. "It's not like you're gonna sleep."

Slap. In the face. I winced. Every time she said that - did she have to bring that up? I slept. Some. Late at night, when everyone else was breathing heavy, I drifted off. I could sleep without the drugs, without the pills...just...not very much.

"Katniss. I'm not insomniac," I said soothingly, hating this, hating it. Why couldn't she want me sleeping with her? She knew she needed me in the bed. Why couldn't she like it?

"Whatever." She didn't open her eyes and she didn't look at me. She didn't touch my face and trace my lips. She didn't grip my shoulders and dig her nails into my back. She didn't breath, "I love you, Peeta," and she didn't fucking mean it.

But once her breathing slowed and she started to fuss, plagued by the nightmares, she did.

She started out by whining, gripping her blanket to her chest and scrabbling with her fingers, searching for a hold on something, anything. Her face scrunched up and those pathetic needy sounds whimpered out of her mouth - and Katniss Everdeen was never needy - until I couldn't take it. Until I gave in. Until I rolled over and pried the blanket out of her death grasp - earning the loudest whine yet - and pushed myself close to her body.

I'm not doing this for me. I am not doing this for me, I reminded myself as my face heated up. I am not doing this for me.

Katniss cooed with delight - so not Katniss-like - wrapping her arms around me haphazardly, clutching my t-shirt. She buried her face in my neck, making those damned adorable sounds and oh shit this - this - this feeling - oh shit -

I bit back the whine scratching at the back of my throat as she started suckling on my neck - Katniss wouls never do this when she was awake - grazing the sensitive skin and - damn you feel too good, too good, too - ohhh - "Ohhh, Katniss," I gasped. "Don't - "

She sucked harder, and I just gasped and fretted and squirmed in our awkward tangle of arms and legs and - oh shit, legs. "Katniss..." I hissed, but hell if I wasn't enjoying this, this, this...what was it? What were we? Her ice-cold hands touched bare skin just beneath my shirt, and I whisper-shrieked and forgot - forgot -

"Ahh..." sighed Katniss, happier than ever, and did I mention that some weird stuff made her happy? If I knew why this was the only thing that kept the nightmares away - sex dreams, I guessed, but where I fit into that I wasn't sure - and - and - oh shit she need to stop that -

Her fingers brushed my leg, checking me, checking to make sure that it was me, because she'd fuss and fret if it wasn't. Gale told me that. "She'd fall asleep and start cuddling me and everything would be fine, until she'd notice that I didn't have your leg and then it'd be all over."

Satisfied, Katniss cooed again and nuzzled my collar. Her hot breath made me feel faint, or maybe that was the blood pulsing all through my body and aching - oh, hell was I ever aching. Katniss should not have this effect on me. She should not - oh shit.

She was kissing at me again, and what kind of a creep kissed someone in their sleep - but did it matter - because this felt so good. And she was so soft. And all of this was too much, too hot, too sweaty, too - too -

I am not doing this for me!

Her tongue slipped over the little hollow in my throat and I whimpered before realizing it. Her hands clutched at my ribs, brushing the soft - sensitive - skin and oh crap did she even realize what she was doing to me? This feeling was...was too much. The heat was building and I couldn't take it and did she even know what a tease she was? And why did I let her do this to me again? Because she was my - she was my -

My nothing.

I let out a sort of sob and moan as she kissed along my jawbone. Her mouth felt so good - I am not doing this for me - but she was still my nothing. These...these...these feelings didn't change us...didn't change the fact that we weren't anything, anything except a couple of ex-champions who needed each other to sleep -

"Mmm..." went Katniss, snuggling closer, her open mouth dangerously close to mine. I could barely see her in the darkness, but I knew every freckle on her face - I am not doing this for me - and the little dimple in her right cheek - and oh damn I wanted to kiss her so bad -

"Mm." She pushed her face closer, needy, demanding. My heart thumped and my ears flushed and how could she be so active in her sleep? She couldn't be getting any rest - I needed to lecture her about this sometime - "Mmm," she sighed, pressing her cheek to mine, snuggling in. Taking over. She had me wound around her finger and, oh, she knew it.

Her hands pushed into my stomach, searching. I swallowed and choked and moaned out, "Katniss" but she didn't stop. But then, when did she ever listen to me, awake or not? I closed my eyes tight and shifted uncomfortably against her too-hot body, reminding myself - I am not doing this for me.

Her probing fingers found the waist of my pajama pants and - oh no - lower, and I gasped and clutched at her and pressed my face into the pillow - and - "Katniss!" - and heat rushed all along my body and don't get turned on, don't get turned on -

Humming appreciatively, she nudged her knee between my legs and oh shit why do I do this - and I lost - all - coherent - thought -

I hate Katniss Everdeen.

She quieted down eventually, arms wrapped around me and blankets tangled over us and pillows thrown aside or forgotten. Her breathing quickened every so often, like she was about to wake up, and I hushed her, soothingly, hating this. Why the hell did I do this? Why did I fucking care so much about her? So she had nightmares and couldn't sleep unless someone slept with her. So what? If wasn't like she loved me for what I did for her! I was the only one who - who -

I hate this.

I think I slept, some, but restless and aching and unsatisfied. I jerked back to consciousness with my body raging angrily at me, pissed off at Katniss and needing relief. I groaned...too early, too tired, not enough sleep...but I never got enough sleep...so I rolled out of her bed.

Katniss cried out, arms grasping at the empty blankets. She always missed me when I left. She whimpered, curling up into a ball, and if it wasn't so close to waking-up time she'd probably pee himself. It hurt, hurt, hurt...hurt that I couldn't wake up next to her, because she'd never forgive me if she found me in her arms. We were just friends. If even that. She'd never let me sleep with her again, and then she'd never sleep again, and then she'd end up like me. Insomniac.

It hurt. That she only missed me when I left.

But I'm not doing this for me.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! This is a one-shot, but I could be persuaded to write more if you guys liked it :)

I know Peeta probably wouldn't swear or even use the word "hate," but I really got caught up in showing his frustration. It may be out of character from how he appears in the books, but I think there's a feisty Peeta underneath all the sweetness.

Please review!