Genre: Romance/Friendship

Pairing: Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark

Rating: M (for sex)

Summary: What happened between Peeta and Katniss growing back together and "So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?" Filled the gaps. Everlark. First Time.

Status: One-shot, complete.

Note: The Parts in Italics are DIRECT QUOTES from Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins. I claim no ownership. All rights to those parts are hers.

I didn't have a beta for this. All faults are my own.

A Good Kind of Pain

We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives. Fortunately, the geese can take pretty good care of themselves. We're not alone. A few hundred others return because, whatever has happened, this is our home. With the mines closed, they plow the ashes into the earth and plant food. Machines from the Capitol break ground for a new factory where we will make medicines. Although no one seeds it, the Meadow turns green again.

Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children.

But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. The first time it happens, a month after we succumbed to sleeping in my house while his is beginning to turn into a new kind of bakery, a gathering place for the workers and their families, we are lying in bed after another day of finding our ways back into a somewhat normal routine. As normal as Peeta and I can hope to be.

We talk about the primroses, about how they're growing nicely and that it's getting warmer. Peeta hopes they will blossom soon. And I manage to say that Prim would love them without crying.

He smiles at me and I smile back because he's so close to me that he goes cross-eyed to look at my face. It looks funny and I relish in the rush of happiness that floods me. The blue moon paints his features delicately and I can see him again, the Peeta I have worked so hard to get back, the one that I had only learned to appreciate when he was taken from me. He's with me most of the time now and that makes me so happy that, before I know it, I close the remaining distance between us and kiss him.

I feel his resistance. He stiffens against me, his face frozen and I know he is battling his demons, the ones that had laid somewhat dormant since the day I kissed him in the Capitol, the ones that didn't want me too close.

I briefly consider pulling back and apologizing but then his lips soften and his hand lands on my cheek, hesitantly so but I understand nonetheless. He's telling me in his own way not to stop, not to back off and keep trying.

So I do.

The following weeks the kissing becomes a new part of our ritual. In the evenings we eat the game I caught, sometimes with Haymitch if he's sober enough to be bothered with solid food, take turns cleaning up while the other showers and we meet in bed, eventually kissing more than we talk.

When he pulls me in on his own for the first time, without me initiating it, I ask him if it's alright now, if he can kiss me without getting flashes, he nods and to make his point, he kisses me again.

We never go further than this though. It's not that I'm not curious or that my body isn't responding to his touches, to his hands on my waist, my legs, tangled in my hair, but I'm scared. Peeta never pushes for more and I wonder if it's because of the hijacking still or if he's afraid too.

I can tell it isn't because he doesn't desire me, I can feel him hard against my thighs more often than not and it's causing me a weird feeling made up of a multitude of smaller notions.

Of course it scares me because I have never in my life dealt with the physical aspect of love, the knowledge I gathered about it is from books and some curt and emotionless, rather awkward answers from my mother given to me even before my very first reaping. I understand the mechanics, I know what he have to do to make love. But I fear it. I touch myself sometimes and it's nice but it's me. I know me.

I know Peeta too and I know, because it is him, that he would never hurt me knowingly, not anymore and it is true that he is the only person in the world I would trust myself with this way but it's still something so novel, so different from anything that I've ever known, it frightens me.

I am self-conscious too, because I wonder if I can give him what he wants. I worry that he might shudder at my scars the way I do, that he will feel the scarred skin and be reminded of the causes, the angry fires that burnt us both. And, vain as I thought I couldn't be, I am afraid he might not like the way I look naked.

Another thing I feel though, as he kisses me, his hands wandering lower, pulling my hips to him in a way that he presses up against me, is pride. And heat.

Not warmth, heat. Everywhere, from my fingertips to my toes curling up. I realize, because I know from exploring my own body, that I, technically, am ready too. It's a funny sensation, feeling everything so intensely, my skin sensitive while my insides scrunch into a tight ball, anticipating, yearning for him in a way that I never knew I could.

On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself.

What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

He is the one. I know it and as he joins me in bed, some time after I figured out that I desire him, physically, too, I am sure. I don't need to wait anymore. Why did it take me so long in the first place? It seems so obvious suddenly.

I see him and ask myself how I didn't accept it earlier. That he is my north, my compass, the only real thing and that I want, I need, more than his friendship, more than his kisses or embraces, I need and I want all of him. Possessiveness takes over me unprompted now I know that I won't ever let him go and when he takes me in his arms, I return the hug, holding him so tightly he begins to chuckle.

"Katniss?", he asks and breathes a kiss on my hairline, "You're breaking my rips"

"Can you promise me something?", I ask him, buried in his neck, breathing in his unique scent of cedar wood and lavender, mixed in with just a whiff of fresh rolls. He will never stop smelling like that. I don't know if he really does or if it's just my imagination but I like it. He's still my boy with the bread that way.

"Anything", he whispers.

"Never leave me", I say quietly, "I can't survive without you"

Peeta shifts then, breaks away from me slightly to take in my face and even in the dim light I can see the grin he tries to keep off of his features.

"I couldn't if I tried", he promises, "I love you, remember?"

"Do you?", I ask and it's a real question because this is the first time he's saying this to me since they brought him back from the Capitol, since the time I believed he could never possibly love me again.

"I don't think I ever stopped", he admits and I can't breathe, "Even when I hated you, I hated you because I loved you so much, does that make any sense at all?"

"Yes", I mutter and he touches my cheek.

"Can you promise me something in return?", he asks.

"Anything", I repeat his reassurance from before. There is no way I could deny Peeta a thing – except having children. Maybe.

"Always let me in", he says, "When you get terrified, when you want to hide away from the world. I'm not saying don't hide, just that you let me help you. Just so long that you can tell me what you need, and if you need me to leave you alone, I will do that. But please don't shut me out. It kills me to see you hurt and not being able to help"

I nod. This is something I can definitely promise him. I will never be able to shut him out anymore, not knowing that he is the only thing that can fix me.

"Good", he says and kisses me.

It's his timid kind of kiss, the one he gives me when he's tired and content, ready to fall asleep but I have other plans. I want more. I think I will always want more now.

I attach myself to him, aligning our bodies and pry his lips open with my own, tasting him and he quickly follows my motions, grazing my skin with his teeth, growling when I turn him over, my legs locked on either side of him. I can already feel him grow harder there, down where I'm ready too.

I never stop kissing him, like that day in the Quell Arena, I am hungry for more and he pulls at my hair, pulling me down to give me all I can handle. He thinks what I can handle is more kissing and while I can appreciate that, I want him to give me more, I want him to touch me where he wants to. I want him to get what he wants from me, take everything I have because I want him to have it and because for so long, I couldn't see that.

"Touch me", I whisper when I come up for air and he gasps. I feel his eyelashes swipe my cheek and find him with eyes wide open.

"Katniss", it's a warning, a concern. He understands the implications and suddenly I wonder if I read him all wrong. If maybe he doesn't desire me at all.

"Do you not want to?", insecurity of an unknown kind speaks through me, one that makes me feel bare and humiliated, naked even though I'm wearing my nightshirt.

"No, no", he soothes as his hands shoot up to cup my cheeks, "I want to. So badly. But...but I don't know-"

He hesitates and I tilt my head, wanting him to go on and Peeta, honest, fearless Peeta tells me the truth.

"I don't know how to do it", he confesses, quietly and he looks away, I can see him blush in the darkness, "All I ever did...was with you"

"All I ever did was with you, too", I say, lowering myself down on him to kiss his lips again.

"But I don't want to hurt you", he protests when I spin us around, hooking my legs over his body so he towers over me. His eyes are dark but he is frozen completely, "I'm afraid that I'll hurt you"

"It's okay", I vow, "Please?"

He looks torn, almost upset and I expect him to start a big argument about how I'm fragile and he couldn't forgive himself if he caused me pain but he surprises me in a way that makes new heat flare up. More violent than before.

"Tell me you really want to, tell me you really want me", he doesn't blink but there is a bit of his own insecurity underneath and it pains me that I made him feel like he can never be sure of my true feelings for him. I know I never gave him much reason to but as more heat coils up inside me, I resolve to change that.

"I really want you, Peeta", I say, "I want nobody else, I want you so close that nothing can ever take you away from me"

That does it and in the blink of an eye his mouth crushes down on mine and I feel a strength in him that he's contained from me before. More desire and lust. And it sweeps me away like a tide wave.

I try to catch my breath but my huffs make me dizzy. He holds me and only loosens his grip when I move in to hold more of him for myself. He grows harder and I feel so hot that I shed my shirt not only so he can touch me underneath. I feel like I'm burning up. The gamemakers fire in the woods in our first games had nothing on this heat that I am feeling now.

I lay bare for him, really naked this time, not figuratively and he takes me in. I wonder, again, about my scars and if they make him flash, if they could ruin everything but instead of being repulsed he leans down, supports himself on one arm while his mouth decks every bit of healed, pale flesh with kisses, swiping his tongue over where the explosion in the Capitol has ate away at me.

"You're so beautiful", he whispers through the rush of blood racing past my ears.

When he's near my breasts he pauses and looks up to find my eyes, to make sure I still want him to go on. I grab his hair and arch my body up in a wordless response.

It tickles when he goes on to kiss me there too. It seems like he is having fun exploring me like that. I giggle when it tickles more and I can feel his mouth stretch into a smile over my sensitive skin. As it does, my giggles fade into a breathless moan by the new angle.

I'd thought I was safer doing things like this to myself, knowing how to touch me but I hadn't calculated how heightened those sensations were that I couldn't anticipate. I don't know what he is going to do next and that is thrilling.

I enjoy his lips, his tongue on me but at the same time I feel a growing sense of unease, a need I can't act upon. My hands are running over his arms but I want to touch more of him, want to go lower. I ache to touch him where he pokes me, hard and solid and I have to shift and work my arm around him to reach between us, to find my way into the soft fabric of his pants, underneath. Until he gasps, his breath hot on me as I finally get a hold of him.

I try to be careful, I know men are sensitive there and his skin is so soft to my touch, it fits the fragility I'd heard of. But at the same time he's so firm in my hands, like a rock covered with silk. I move my fingers, to feel more of it and Peeta rises from my chest to kiss my mouth.

I notice how his breathing changes and I like it, I have fun like I haven't had in ages, figuring out which movements cause which reactions, when his grip on my tightens, when he moans, when his hips buckle on their own and best, when he whispers my name.

"Katniss", he says after letting me play with him for a while but it's different now than before, it's not just pleasure, it's a plea too, "I can't, ow, you have to stop now, I'm so close"

I stop immediately and he shudders, lowering himself, so he's lying flush on top of me, his hips between my legs, his chest on mine, his forehead resting on the pillow, next to my head.

He breathes. Deep breaths to steady himself. I like his weight on me. I should find it disturbing and uncomfortable, I should scurry away because he's crushing me but I feel the opposite. He's so real, so real there. He's here with me and I feel like crying suddenly.

"I just wanted to make you feel good", I say when he keeps breathing and I become afraid that I've done something wrong after all.

"I do, I feel...amazing", he whispers, "I...whenever I did this to myself I imagined it was you but I could never, I could have never known just how it would really feel and it's amazing now but it's a lot to process"

"I tried imagining it too", I admit, my voice tiny as it barely fights its way out. He is brave, always being so honest, I want to be brave too.

Peeta stops breathing altogether now.

"What did you imagine?", he asks me and I meet his eyes, lingering so dark on me.

"What it would feel like if you were...If you were -", I have to look away, "inside of...of me"

My name is Katniss Everdeen, I survived the Hunger Games twice, and I am more scared now than ever before.

I want to feel it, him, I want to but I'm afraid because I know it will happen now. I know as Peeta takes off my underwear, I know when he gently nudges my knees further apart, I know when he gets closer to me. I know as he looks at me one last time.

"Are you really sure?", he asks, ready to pull away, ready to call it all off if I only blink.

I nod and swallow hard.

"I promise I will be careful", he says, "You have to tell me the second I hurt you, I don't know how to do this right, Katniss, I don't know"

"Don't worry about me", I say and he laughs as if I just said something particularly absurd.

"Worrying about you is like breathing to me", he says and kisses my forehead, "I can't turn that off"

"I trust you", I assure him and I mean it, "I trust you more than myself, you can never hurt me"

It does hurt.

It feels like needles and pins, like I'm being staked, which in a way, I am. It also hurts right away. There is no pleasurable second of it at first.

I wince as soon as he enters me and he pulls out again instantly, I see his eyes flicker, alarmed and alert, the apology already on his lips, guilt already distorting his perfect features.

"No", I say and grab his wrists, "Do it again, I'll be fine, do it"

He gives me a wary look but finally complies and this time, the first inches, it doesn't hurt so bad. But there is still more of him and more of me to take him in. I grit my teeth and together we fight through it. I'm relatively sure he is not in pain but I can tell from his furrowed brow that it kills him to see me in pain, pain he's causing but I tell him it's alright.

This is a good kind of pain. Sweet and excruciating but I want it, I welcome it. It hurts when he breaks the last barrier, when he's all the way inside of me and I feel so full and new and weird but good, it takes my breath away.

I have never felt this in my life and I let that sink in for a while.

He waits for as long as I make him. I get used to the feeling, wrap my head around what has just happened and then, when the worst pain is fading, I start moving. Just slightly, just upward and against him a bit and Peeta groans.

"It's okay", I tell him, "You can move now"

And he does.

It doesn't last very long. Twenty minutes maybe but it feels longer. I begin to enjoy it, through the remaining pain butwhat I savor most is Peeta and the faces, the noises he makes. It feels funny when he withers on top of me and he makes a high pitched, choked up sound as his limbs go all squirmy and his eyes fly open, his mouth open in a growl. For the first time since I know him I hear him curse and then he collapses on top of me.

I hold him while his ragged breathing turns normal and I can feel his unspoken question, if I'm mad that I didn't have an orgasm but I don't care about that. Not the first time. He got me close enough this time to know that there will be no problems the next. For now, I'm just happy.

He rolls off of me, covering us and scooting close to me again.

"I'm sorry about the pain", he whispers under his breath.

I feel the soreness as he mentions it, feel it piercing but I don't mind. I got through pain way worse than this.

"It's a good kind of pain", I say and smile, "I am happy"

"I'm happy too", he says and we both know that this is a big thing, a huge thing for the two of us, being happy again.

We stare at each other for a while, our fingers interlaced and we kiss, less urgent this time, tender and patient.

Only Peeta could have been the one, I think once more, only Peeta and no one else. He was always there, so pure, so good, so much better than me. And even when I thought I'd lost him, he came back to me, for me. Haymitch is right, I could live a thousand years and not deserve this wonderful human lying next to me.

I can never be as noble, as selfless, as kind and patient and brave as him but I can try. And I vow to do so for the rest of my days. I will, every day, try my best to be the person that could hope to some day deserve him.

So now, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"
I tell him, "Real."

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