I do not own The Hunger Games.
The Lake House
Day One:
The first time is an accident.
At least Katniss Everdeen thinks it is. It isn't as if she's sleeping: she's been lying awake, staring at a water spot on the ceiling that looks like a giant werewolf (or some other dog-like creature) in her temporary bedroom at Delly's lake house and contemplating how she got here. Here. Among the elite of her high school, reveling in their recently-earned graduate status. Prim had told her to live a little and come here for this last hurrah, and she can't bear to let her little sister down. Not even if it means admitting that she'd rather be invisible to these people she's known her whole life than acknowledged – finally – and then abandoned when they leave for school.
She shifts, sucking in a breath when the crispy parts of her shoulders, and other, more sensitive areas, scrape against the soft cotton sheets. She, who never burns is suddenly melatonin-challenged and fried to a crisp all along the edges where her tankini met skin. Her flesh feels tight and uncomfortable along her shoulders, where her hips meet her thighs. It hurts to move. The coolness of the air conditioning doesn't help; she's cold despite the heat coming off her own skin. She's been tossing and turning and staring at that damn mutt for the past hour.
She curses at the image as if it's trying to steal her sleep and painfully swings her legs over the side of the bed when the door suddenly flies open. Standing in silhouette is a large, very drunk, mostly undressed god from her senior class. She gapes as he staggers slightly in the open doorway, then slams the door before belly-flopping onto the full bed narrowly missing her. Quickly he pulls her pillow in toward his stomach. His breath almost immediately evens out into a slow, rhythmic cadence.
She stares at him for a full two minutes in hopes that he'll disappear. Surely, he's a figment of her imagination? Even though she knows that actual beds are at a premium, especially for someone who's not paired up like most of the other inhabitants in the house, she can't quite wrap her brain around the dead weight of his slightly snoring frame in her bed. Stunned disbelief is followed by ire: she worked hard to win her sleeping arrangements fair and square in a fight-to-the-death game of beer pong. Just because she can't really imagine Peeta Mellark sleeping like a commoner on the billion-year-old brown shag downstairs doesn't mean she can't be pissed at the idea of him crawling into her space.
She pinches him. Hard.
He mumble-whines something that sounds a lot like, "Dad, it's Rye's turn to get up." Before he snuggles further into the pillow he clutches like a teddy bear.
It's enough to make her snort-laugh at the Twilight Zone quality of this entire trip to Delly's, except that makes her sunburn hurt. She scowls instead because she's tense and completely aware of him flopped on the other side of the bed, shirtless chest gleaming in the moonlight. Another minute or two of staring at the even rise and fall of his chest – his very bare chest – and she decides he's harmless. He's passed out, for God's sake! What's he going to do, cuddle her to death? The guy wouldn't hurt a fly, even sober.
The guy. Peeta Mellark.
She knows him from school. Who doesn't? Everyone knows Peeta, even the Invisible Ones like her. She concedes that he seems nice, despite his exalted status. But she's learned to be cautious in her young life because people aren't always what they seem. Who can guess what lurks behind his wide grin and sparkling blue eyes? It's bad enough that she feels his gaze on her sometimes. Like maybe she's not that invisible and he sees through her carefully crafted cloak of indifference to high school's angst. She's had enough pain in her personal life without adding any idiotic antics to the list.
He shifts suddenly to his side, murmuring something that sounds like a slurred thank you and nuzzles his cheek into the pillow with a sigh.
It seems Peeta is a sleep-hugger.
He's asleep again in ten seconds. She listens to the deep, even cadence of his breathing for a few minutes until she's sure that he's not punking her. Her body relaxes with each of his long exhales. Eventually she wonders if he's as sunburned as her and if – maybe – the thought of all that shag abrading his skin was what drove him to the madness of finding a room with a bed. She blinks drowsily. She's a light sleeper, and he clearly isn't. He'll stay on his side and she'll stay on hers, she reasons. Heck, he doesn't even know she's in the room! She decides that she'll just rest for a few hours and then bail before he realizes the bed was ever anything but empty.
Are his curls as soft as they look?
The thought comes out of nowhere, interrupting her slow slide toward sleep. It's reflex, really. She reaches out and wraps a silky curl around her index finger before giving in to oblivion.
Katniss wakes to a sun already above the horizon and the cuddly warmth of a plush blanket wrapped around her. She nuzzles into it, pulling it tighter over her. The blanket must like that because it rubs against her leg, folding between where hers are spread. There's rubbing higher, too, against the bare skin of her stomach. A deep sigh vibrates against her breast and her nipple peaks.
Wait. What?
She blinks. Realization slowly dawns: Delly's lake house. Her room. The cloying smell of Coppertone and beer-sweat. Peeta Mellark wrapped around her like she's his huggie pillow. Peeta Mellark's thigh and thumbs moving against her skin. Bare skin. And his head – those tousled curls she had touched last night – those are below her chin. His actual breath tickles her stomach. She takes exactly ten seconds to register that his leg rubbing against her calf is soft and his hands are calloused. And that the dragging of those callouses against her skin does funny things to her insides.
Peeta Mellark is touching her.
The panic is overwhelming, her reaction immediate. She pushes his red, freckled shoulder gently (ok, not quite gently because he's heavy) so she has enough room to slide out from under him, studiously ignoring the hardness dragging across her hip while she does so.
She's almost to the door when she hears him shift. Waking.
"Katniss?" His gravelly morning voice does worse things to her than the thought of their skin pressed together all night. Her skin feels tight. Too small. Foreign. And it's not the sunburn that makes her feel this way.
She bolts from the room before she can do something stupid, like turn around to see if he's real.
Day Two:
Why is he being so nice to her? Peeta's always nice – that's his trademark. But he's going out of his way to be extra nice to her. It sets her teeth on edge. By the time they're eating lunch and he's saved her the very last bag of Flamin' Hot Funyuns – how he knows they're her favorite, she has no idea – she's had enough. She chokes down her turkey and cheddar on rye, practically shotguns her Coke Zero and storms up to him.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Cato Hoffman, the dickhead who made Prom King has the audacity to correct her grammar. "I don't know, can you?"
She levels him with a fierce glare before turning the same look back to Peeta, who stares at her with wide eyes. "We need to talk. Please." She takes off for the tree line twenty-five yards from the beach without waiting for confirmation that he's coming. She gets it anyway as his heavy tread follows her.
When she thinks they're sufficiently out of earshot, she whirls on him. "Stop being so nice to me."
He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing like he's nervous. Only that's impossible, because Peeta Mellark is never nervous.
"Why do you think I'm being nice to you?"
"You saved me the last Funyuns." She scowls.
He fires back. "They're your favorite."
"How do you know that?"
"I just thought – you ate them every lunch senior year. Do you really not like them or something?" He rubs the red skin of his neck.
Katniss pauses for a minute. Does that mean he watched her eat lunch? Because that's – odd. And he really should be using a higher number sunblock. Finally, she shakes her head, ready to get back to the point. "Fine, they're my favorite. But that and saving me a spot next to Madge at the picnic table instead of letting me eat on my towel on the beach like I've been doing since we got here, is too weird. I'm not a Townie like you and Madge. I'm invisible."
He scowls, eyes stormy. "You are not invisible. Not to me."
It's her turn to be taken aback. Peeta doesn't scowl. That's her thing. Also, she doesn't know what the hell he means by that statement, doesn't want to examine it too closely. So she narrows her eyes and points a finger at his chest. "Whatever. Stop treating me differently because of last night. It was a fluke: you needed a room and thought mine was empty. It was a simple mistake."
Peeta's face flushes red and his eyes drop to where he kicks a random rock. "Is that what you think happened?"
"Yes. There are no other options that make sense. And I don't want people thinking something is going on between us." Her voice is closed off. Cold. Distrusting. "This isn't some lake house hook-up."
"I didn't – I didn't do anything that made you uncomfortable, did I?"
She pushes the thought away of him snuggling her in the middle of the night before it can turn her insides to mush and shakes her head with a jerk. Her voice has thawed a bit when she answers, "No."
He finally raises his eyes to hers. They're full of hope. "Did you ever think that maybe…maybe I finally got up the nerve to come find you? Maybe I want something to be going on?"
She absolutely cannot handle where this conversation is going and quickly scoffs, "So you drunkenly staggered into my bedroom while I was asleep? That's your big move? Because that's totally creepy. You snore by the way."
"I do not."
"You do. You're a mouth-breather. Are you sure you've never broken your nose? You should probably get that septum looked at." She's babbling. She knows she's babbling. But he's looking at her like he's hurt and she can't handle it. And she definitely can't handle the thought that he's being serious. Not that Peeta and his friends playing a joke like this on her would her feel anything but horrible. The alternative, though, is so far outside her wheelhouse that she's relieved to hurt him before he can decimate her by actually making her believe him.
"Fine. I'll leave you alone." He kicks a rock with enough force that it dents the bark of a nearby tree. "But for the record, I do not snore. I've shared a bedroom with my brother since I was six and Rye's never once mentioned to me that I snore. Enjoy the rest of your life, Katniss." Peeta lifts one shoulder and lets it dip like she doesn't matter at all before he turns on his heel and trudges back to the beach.
Katniss tries not to analyze why she feels like crying.
She beats him at beer pong just to prove that she doesn't need to be nice to him, despite the haunted look he'd left her with earlier. They barely know each other, she reasons. And one night together – one night he mostly doesn't remember – doesn't change that. Or maybe it's to prove to herself that she absolutely does not want him creeping into her room again that night. No way. It was a random occurrence. She does not have some secret crush on Homecoming Court Prince Peeta Mellark. That would be pathetic and she is not pathetic.
She does her first beer bong that night; it hits her hundred-pound frame hard. She barely registers that Delly gives Peeta Thom's room, joking that, "Thom won't be needing it, and we made sure to change the sheets". Katniss isn't the only one staggering and stammering by the end of the night, way past when Peeta has said goodnight to everyone. When Glimmer announces to those gathered around the campfire that her birth name is actually Gloria, Katniss can't stop giggling. She, who never ever giggles. That's when she decides to call it a night and lets the fireflies lead the way as she stumbles into the house.
She's not sure how she ends up in his room, but chalks it up to attraction. Loneliness. Muscle memory of how he felt wrapped around her. Whatever it is, she doesn't hesitate to climb into bed behind him. He's hugging his pillow like a teddy bear again, and barely stirs until she presses herself against his back and mimics his pillow death-grip around his middle. She thinks one word as he threads his fingers through hers and she falls into comfortable blackness. Home.
She assumes she's still drunk when she wakes to him as tangled around her as the day before. It's either that or a dream. And in dreams, she reasons, it's perfectly acceptable for her to move his hand from her stomach to her breast. She revels in the way fingers that stroke like he's as awake as she is make her melt. He presses an insistent hardness against her hip and she answers by arching greedily into him. As they grind against each other, he murmurs her name against her skin. She can't bring herself to say his yet. Not yet.
He's gone when she awakens to bright sunlight streaming through the window, making her head pound. But he's left her some Tylenol and a bottle of water that's still cold. As she guzzles it, she realizes that she could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him.
Day Three:
He saves her Funyuns. They're out of the Flamin' Hot, but somehow a magical unicorn bag appears on her towel all the same. She sends a furtive glance his way, wondering at his ingenuity. When he winks, it's the first public acknowledgement between them…ever. She answers with a nod and a small smile.
She's not sure she cares if anyone notices.
When she passes him her extra pack of Chips Ahoy on the way back to her inner tube, his right eyebrow arches. "Not hungry? You like chocolate chip."
She nods, suddenly lighthearted that he noticed something else about her. "I do," she tells him. "But they're not as good as yours."
His smile feels like a victory that she carries with her all day. She closes her eyes and thinks about it – about him – while she floats with her friends underneath a scalding hot sky as blue as his eyes. She doesn't feel the burn, not with the memory of his smile to protect her.
Later, someone starts the dinner bonfire early enough that there's still some sunlight. Presumably, it's because their days here are numbered and everyone wants to get to partying sooner rather than later. Peeta passes her a hot dog. It's an innocuous gesture. But Cato catches on that something must be going on between them. He's never liked Katniss anyway, not since she said no when he asked her to their semi-formal sophomore year.
"Oh my God. Mellark, are you giving Everdeen your hotdog?"
Peeta blushes. "Shut up, Cato."
"You are! Someone finally scaled Queen Elsadeen's ice walls! Bro, I'm stunned you have that kind of game—"
Peeta doesn't let him finish. He may not be as tall as Cato, but he's brawnier and he knows how to use his center of gravity in a fight. "Don't talk about her that way or I swear—"
"You'll what? Get your mommy to beat me up?" Cato sneers.
Peeta swipes at him and Cato gets in a good punch at Peeta's jaw. His head snaps back and he stumbles before landing on the sand. Peeta shakes his head to clear it then lurches to his feet, intent upon taking the taller boy down. Cato hits the ground with a thud and the two of them roll around for a minute before each rises.
Katniss can't take another minute. She storms between the two. "Cato, you asshole, shut up."
"Or what?" Cato dusts sand off himself. "Since when do you two stick up for each other? Are you gonna make me sorry, Everdeen?" He lunges for her.
Katniss isn't sure if it's a joke or not, but she doesn't wait around to find out. In a timeless move used by women the world over, she knees him decisively between the legs. He goes down like a bag of cement, grabbing himself and gagging as he tries to breathe. A pall falls over the group as everyone stares at her while at least one marshmallow becomes a flaming torch of sugar and ash.
She runs for the woods.
Thirty minutes later, Katniss gazes at a beautiful valley from her perch on a high rock and breaths the fresh smell of pine mixed with the sweetness of honeysuckle while a mockingbird chirps somewhere nearby. It's ten degrees cooler up here, despite the beauty and her tank top doesn't give her much protection against the chill. She ignores the shivers. She's just planning her escape from Delly and her gang of insane graduates when she hears crashing through the branches behind her.
It's either Peeta or a bear. She places a bet that it's Peeta, and calls out to him, "I'm over here."
Peeta emerges from the tree line, sucking wind, with a bruise already blooming along his jaw. "How did you know it was me?"
"Good guess. Besides, no one is as loud as you are."
He grips his heart. "Stop with the compliments, Everdeen, my heart can't take it. Can I join you up there or are you gonna knee me in the junk, too?"
She assesses him and tries to hide her relieved smile. She's glad he followed her. "Come on up. You look like hell already, so I don't think there's much more I can do to you."
He climbs his way up to where she sits. Noticing her shiver, he slides off his gray hoodie. "You must be freezing. Take this."
She's about to demure when the warm fabric touches her shoulders and she almost groans at the heat. "Thanks."
He sighs as he arranges his legs into a comfortable position. "For a girl who seems prepared for everything, you didn't really pack for this trip, did you? Not a sweatshirt in sight."
Katniss blushes, clears her throat, and admits, "I forgot that it would be cold at night. All I brought with me was shorts, tank tops, and a couple of bathing suits. You're lucky that I remembered underwear or you would have been in for a real surprise when you…when we…ah…you know."
Peeta fidgets for a minute, then clears his throat. Twice. His voice cracks slightly when he admits, "Yeah. Lucky me." He's quiet for a moment, gazing at the sunset like he's studying it carefully, or hunting for a change of subject. "It's really beautiful up here. How'd you know about this spot?"
"My dad brought us here to fish when we were kids. I used to explore the whole area. I always loved this view."
He glances at her long enough that she isn't sure whether it's the vista or something else that has him replying, "It's pretty great." He turns back to the sunset with a long sigh and rubs his jaw while a minute or two passes. "That right there. That's my favorite color."
"Orange?" She sounds doubtful, but peruses the sunset anyway to see the appeal.
He nods. "Yeah. That sort of muted orange that says the day is through and ready to give way to the promise of a new one."
She snorts. "I knew it. You're an optimist."
He side-eyes her. "You're not?" When she shakes her head, he shrugs. "Not much point in being something else." He picks up a leaf from the rock where they sit and twirls it around a finger before announcing, "I bet your favorite color is black."
"It is not!" She scowls.
"Oh?" He cocks a brow and hands her the leaf. "I'm just saying that life goes on, whether we want it to or not. Besides, you don't know me well enough to accuse me of being an optimist."
Katniss stares at the leaf, eyebrows furrowed. "Peeta Mellark. All-State wrestler. Homecoming court. Lover of orange. You doodle in class, double-knot your shoelaces and…" she trails off as she realizes how much she's just admitted.
"And? And what? Were you going to call me a mouth breather again?" he chides.
She puts the leaf down. "I was going to say that you stick up for people. Like back there with Cato. Or that time in Miss Trinkett's class when you knew it was Leevy's birthday but her mom didn't bring in a cake because she couldn't afford it and you made her cupcakes as a surprise." She glances at him. "Lemon. Her favorite, by the way. Or when you paid Gale's library fine with your lunch money so he could finish his fetal pig dissection paper instead of going to detention."
Peeta shrugs. "It was no big deal. I needed to make weight class anyway." He fiddles with a pebble before tossing it over the side of their perch. "And the cupcakes couldn't have been that good. You didn't eat yours."
Heat spreads up her neck to her cheeks and she hopes the twilight is dark enough that he doesn't notice. "The flowers on the frosting made it too pretty to eat. I took it home and gave it to Prim."
It's quiet for a minute before Peeta sighs deeply, almost like he's been holding his breath. "I made that one especially for you."
"I doubt that."
"No. It's true. I wanted your cupcake to be special." He turns to face her fully. "Look, I know this is weird and you probably think I'm totally psycho. I swear I'm harmless. But the truth is that I've liked you for a long time. A really long time. "
Katniss mimics his pose, but can't help frowning. Either he's the best actor she's ever met, or he's telling the truth. She can't quite believe he would go this far out of his way to hurt her, but she can't really buy what he's telling her, either. "But you never once talked to me. Not once."
He smiles so quickly that it's there and gone before she can react. "You're terrifying. I mean that in the most complimentary way, by the way."
"Mmm." She purses her lips and considers him.
He fidgets. "Let me ask you this. If I had gotten up the nerve to ask you out, what would you have said? Hypothetically, of course."
Her brow furrows. "You mean like, on a date? I don't date."
He nods before she even finishes. "That's my point: you're the most terrifying thing a teenage boy can live through: you're focused and know exactly what you want. For the record, it's not that you say no. It's how you say it, like we're bugs or something."
She doesn't disagree with him, though she thinks she should. Things scare her. She's not so much focused as she is closed off because of it. Which is why she's not sure if she should feel this disappointed at how cowardly his actions seem. "So, that's why you snuck in my room? Because you're scared of rejection?"
He coughs and rubs the back of his neck. "No. I uh, I think the King of Beers is mostly to blame there. Or maybe that was my optimistic streak again. I might have decided that it was worth knowing if we have a chance at something rather than being a total pussy. I guess I wanted to turn over a new leaf before I leave for school."
Her stomach bottoms out at the thought of him leaving. Her throat suddenly dry, she asks, "When do you leave?"
"Next week."
She closes her eyes against the surprising sting. Next week is so...soon. And even though they're nothing to each other, it seems too final to say goodbye.
Something in her expression has him nodding. "I know. My timing sucks. Now you know why I want to freeze every moment of the last few days and live in it forever. It's not like I think you'll do something crazy like agree to be my long-distance girlfriend. The odds would totally be against that. Right?"
"Peet–"
"Don't. Don't say it. Let's just sit here and watch a beautiful sunset together like it's our last night on earth."
"Ok."
"Ok? You'll allow it?"
"I'll allow it."
"Even if I want to put my arm around you? You look like you're freezing, even with my sweatshirt."
"I'll even allow that." She moves closer so he can slide an arm around her shoulders. As they settle into their new position she studies his profile, memorizing his sun freckles, the impressive length of his eyelashes, the patches of stubble where he's missed shaving. She blurts, "My favorite color isn't black. It's green. And I don't think you're a bug."
He rubs her shoulder in response.
Minutes later, she lays her head on his shoulder.
They miss the s'mores. Everyone is already doing Jägermeister shots when Katniss and Peeta make it off the hilltop to join them around the bonfire. It doesn't take long for Katniss to recall that the party's been raging since before sunset: Cato grabs Peeta in a bear hug as if they're best buddies and asks him where he's been all night. Peeta glances her way. At her small head shake, he laughs like he has not a care in the world and fist bumps Cato back, taking the shot of alcohol the bigger boy offers.
She grimaces at how easily the ruse is for him. It gives her an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach to think that maybe some of his time with her has been a lie, so she does what she does best and shrinks away from the revelers and into the surrounding shadows. It's easy to do since they're wasted and she's always been quiet on her feet. Only Peeta watches her retreat back to the house. She thinks he means to stop her once or twice, but in the end, he lets he go, fake smile still plastered in place.
She changes into nightclothes and brushes her teeth on auto-pilot, cursing Peeta silently all the while. Sure, she and Peeta had agreed that discretion was called for and they should sleep apart. She was especially thankful for that decision after she discovered the note and condoms Delly had thoughtfully placed on her bed. Katniss had recoiled in horror before gingerly placing them on the bedside table next to the the lamp shaped like an anchor.
She tells herself she's happy with the plan. Truly. Happy. It's not as if she doesn't know how to sleep alone, and a few nights with a high school god hasn't changed that. So she crawls into bed and it doesn't harm anyone if she imagines her fingers twined though Peeta's soft hair. She's okay.
The possibility of a nightmare isn't on her radar at all. After all, she only has them once in awhile now. Not like right after the accident that took her father, when she dreaded sleep so much that she once shoplifted caffeinated water from the convenience store on the street corner. She'd gotten caught, of course. Thankfully the old drunk who owned it had laughed in her face and let her keep it when he realized it was only water.
All she knows is that one minute she's snuggled below a sheet, thinking of the smell of Peeta's hoodie, and the next she's standing on the edge of the woods, watching her father's truck careen around a curve and wrap around a tree. She gasps awake, sweating despite the air conditioner. It takes her a moment to recall the lake house. Sleeping alone. Peeta.
Peeta.
His name crosses her lips as she swings her legs over the edge: she needs to find him. She's not sure what she'll do when she does, only that she has an overwhelming need to ensure that he's safe. She wants to be done with all the loss in her life and somehow she's convinced finding Peeta will start her next chapter.
She stumbles down the stairs only to stop short. Bodies are strewn everywhere like in a battle scene from some apocalyptic movie. On the couch, curled next to it, under the coffee table, next to the sliding door. How is she supposed to find him? She struggles to make out shapes in the wan light coming through the windows until, with a sigh of relief, she spots his pale blond hair barely visible above the edge of the crocheted afghan he's wrapped around himself so even his face is completely covered.
She crouches by his side. "Peeta?" she whispers. She tentatively reaches for what she thinks is his shoulder and gives it a gentle poke. When he doesn't stir, she does it again and leans closer so he can hear her. "Peeta!"
Her yell-whisper does the trick. Blue eyes blink behind the black weave of the afghan. "Katniss? What's wrong? Why are you down here?"
"I changed my mind."
"What?"
"I changed my mind. Would you...could you...will you stay in my room me with?" she stammers.
"But we decided–"
"Holy shit, Mellark, will you just bone already? Some of us are trying to sleep!" a very cranky Johanna Mason pipes up from under the coffee table before making a show of rolling over with a heavy sigh.
Peeta lumbers to his feet and leans forward until his forehead touched Katniss's. "You're sure?"
Another expletive sounds from under coffee table. "Listening to you two is like watching sloths fuck."
Katniss ignores the interruption and nods as she looks into Peeta's blue eyes. "I'm sure."
Peeta graciously dumps his afghan onto Johanna's huddled frame. She flips him off without so much as a glance in their direction, mumbling something about stupid virgins. Finally, Katniss leads him upstairs, biting her lip all the while.
It's not until the lights are out and she's cuddled against his warm chest that she relaxes. The gentle beating of his heart lulls her almost to sleep when he asks, "What happened tonight, Katniss?"
She keeps her eyes shut and hopes he'll leave it alone but gives up when he shifts so he's looking at her face. "I had a nightmare," she confesses. When he doesn't ask anymore questions, she adds, "About my dad and his...accident." Cautiously, she returns his stare, hoping he'll drop the line of questioning.
He moves again so she's tucked comfortably against his side. "I'm sorry." He paused. "You don't want talk about it, do you?"
"No," she answers.
"My therapist says it's better to talk about it that hold it in."
She can't hide her surprise. "Your therapist?"
"Yeah. I see her because of my..issues...with my mom." He sounds so matter-of-fact, rather than upset.
Katniss thinks of the rumors she's heard throughout the years and remembers the bruises that couldn't be chalked up to wrestling practice. She recalls Peeta wearing long sleeved shirts to school in June. And then, earlier, Cato had made that comment about Peeta's Mom. Sure, her own mother had checked out on her and Prim after her dad's death. No mom-of-the-year trophy there. But Peeta is such a good guy. How could his own mother treat him that–
"Katniss? I'm a good listener." He interrupts her jumbled thoughts.
"Sorry. Just thinking. And thank you for the offer."
"But you still don't want to talk about it." He fidgets.
She frowns and tries to understand why he even cares. "Right."
"Okay." He shrugs his shoulders.
She can't believe he's willing to drop it. "Okay? That's it? You're not going to ask any more questions?"
"Do you want me to ask questions?"
"No!"
"It just seems like–"
She rolls over to face the wall. "Are you always like this? I mean, what if I badgered you to tell me about your mother?"
"I don't talk to most people about her. But if you asked me, I would tell you."
She looks back at him in surprise.
He shrugs then rolls to his side away from her. His voice is low, yet she hears him all the same. "I meant what said, I've liked you for a long time. If you wanted to know something, I'd tell you the truth." He pauses and Katniss hears rustling. She pictures him arranging his pillow so he could wrap his arms around it. He yawns loudly before mumbling, "Thanks for coming to get me. It feels good to be wanted."
Heat rolls off of his back mere inches behind her, yet he feels further away than he had all those years in school when he was a popular kid and she was a nobody. How would he even know what not being wanted felt like? Eventually, his breath evens out and a light snore or two drifts her way.
That's when Katniss rolls over and wraps her arms around him.
She wakes with one thought: no more nightmares. It's early dawn and she's wrapped around a still-sleeping Peeta. It's the first time she hasn't woken to him caressing her. She misses his hands on her but admits that just the feel of his warm weight next to her makes a lazy hunger swirl in her belly. What little chest hair he has is bleached almost white from the sun. His pale nipples mostly disappear against his tanned and peeling skin. They're flat, not puffy. She knows this from ogling him in his wrestling singlet junior and senior year. Now that she's right up next to one of them, though, she wonders if they're sensitive, like her own had been. She blushes and looks away from the flesh and blood object of her desire at the thought.
Still, Katniss slides her hand up his chest through a smattering of soft hairs to find out. Just before she reaches her destination, Peeta reaches up and grasps her hand in his, then squeezes as if he believes she is trying to wake him. A big yawn follows a stretch that moves her leg from resting on his thigh to across his hip and against a part of his anatomy that is equally busy waking. Just as she begins to withdraw so he can finish whatever morning yoga he likes, he rolls to his side facing her, strokes a hand down her back and tugs her closer by her butt. Her hand is trapped against his chest, and his heavy forearm anchors her thigh around his hip. His own hand rests along the elastic of her underwear. Which means his fingers are mere inches from her core.
Which, she supposes, he can probably feel the heat of through her thin cotton underwear. If he would stop squirming, she wouldn't be so hot and wet. But every minute or so he flexes his hips and rolls his… his…. What should she even call it. His dick? His dingaling? His penis? He rolls is Whatever into her and it's driving her slowly mad because she can feel him right up against her. Which, of course makes her roll her own hips into his for friction.
And sure, they did this a few mornings ago. But now she's full awake and Peeta's penis is rubbing up against her. Peeta's penis. Oh God she thinks. Peeta's penis is causing a panic attack. She almost snort laughs at the alliteration, then tucks her head into his chest with a groan because she must be the first teenager on the planet to have a laughing fit while simultaneously greedily grinding against her teenage crush.
Oh God she repeats to herself, burrowing further into his chest. Did she just admit that she had a crush on Peeta? That would support why she knew so much about him and why the thought of him liking her back causes such a freak out. Along with his leaving. She shouldn't forget that gem of knowledge.
Peeta's penis is causing a crisis.
She snorts again.
"Katniss?" He asks in his gravelly morning voice. Peeta's hand reaches to untuck her chin from his chest. At her wide eyes, his brow furrows. "Are you okay? We can stop. Whatever you want." His statement is vehemently contradicted by his penis (Bing Bong, thundercat, Magic P, thingadoodle), which flexes against her.
She wants to pat it in commiseration because what she really wants is to do all sorts of things to whatever-she-should call it. Katniss burble-laughs at the ridiculousness of the whole scene and dives into his chest to hide. "No. No, that's not it," she says between breathy giggles.
"Oh-kay." He drawls. "Can you share the joke, maybe?"
She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth to stop the giggles then becomes fixated on the goosebumps that follow the path of her breath down Peeta's happy trail. He's still hard. She can see the tip of him tenting his boxers and there's a bead of moisture that fascinates her.
"Katniss?" he asks again.
She pushes him to his back and, in a move that she hopes makes her appear confident, climbs astride him. She braces herself for a second on his abs before gesturing in the direction of his downstairs. "I don't know what to call it without using some horrible nickname."
"You were laughing at potential nicknames for my dick? I've got to hear this. Give me one." His amusement is obvious.
She shakes her head. "No, they're too embarrassing and that's not the point. The point is that you make me nervous."
"Nervous like we should stop, nervous?"
"No. Nervous like I can't pick what I want to touch first. But I don't want to be laughed at, either."
Peeta crosses his arms behind his head. "I'm more than okay with whatever you want. And I won't laugh."
She nods at his solemn expression. It takes a minute to gather her courage, but she eventually runs a hand over his chest. Every muscle beneath her fingers clenches and then relaxes, especially when she threads her fingers through the trail of hair below his belly button. She notices that he's biting the inside of his cheek as she gets closer to his… dick, Katniss. Just call it a dick. She stares, completely fixated on where he's fully hard and twitching as if in greeting.
She cautiously traces the length of him through his boxers. He's hard, alright, with a wet spot growing near his waistband. There's an answering wetness between her legs which she ignores. Instead, she tugs one side of his boxers off his hips.
He raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
She arches an eyebrow in response and moves to the side when he takes the hint and pulls his boxers completely off.
It's her turn to suck in her breath when he lays back once more. He's larger than she would have thought, and his skin is pale white in contrast to the rest of him. He's a little hairier, too, a darker shade than the bleached blond on the rest of him, but just as curly. She itches to touch it to see if it's soft like the hair on his head, or wiry.
It's somewhere between textures, she discovers as she pets him. He seems to like it, arching into her hand and closing his eyes as she touches around his hardness. She finally gathers her sense of adventure and grasps him. He's heavy and somehow both hard and soft at the same time, with silky skin that's hot to the touch. She strokes from the middle of him to his tip where liquid pools at the head. A breathy chuckle draws her attention.
"Sensitive," he says. "The tip is sensitive."
She reacts by dragging her index finger along the slightly sticky liquid at his slit. His dick jumps at her touch, so she does it again, then rubs the liquid between her thumb and forefinger. She sniffs it, then takes a tentative lick. It's a bit salty but somehow tastes clean at the same time. It's a lot like how Peeta smells when he's been soaking in the lake all day.
When she looks up, his bright eyes are trained on her lips. She licks them, suddenly self-conscious. Slowly, Peeta reaches a hand to cup her face and traces her bottom lip with his calloused thumb. Katniss knows even before the light pressure on the back of her neck that he wants to kiss her. She has a fleeting thought that neither of them have brushed their teeth which she pushes to the side. Because she wants to kiss Peeta. Badly.
His eyes are still open as she gets closer to his lips. She locks on the blueness of them in the dim light, although she can't stop sneaking glances at his lips. She doesn't think she'll ever look at either the same way again. The first gentle contact last only a second, then she pulls away for a quick breath. He's still watching her, the beginnings of a smile curving one corner of his mouth. It's irresistible, so she closes the gap.
This time her eyes drift shut and she leans all the way into the kiss, making full contact. His bottom lip is plump and so much softer than expected that she can't help but suck on it just a little. He reacts by tangling his hand in her braid, already a mess from sleeping on it all night. She angles her head to do it again, but this time with just a bit of tongue. His mouth opens for her. At the first touch of their tongues, he moans just a little in the back of his throat. The sound vibrates through her.
She thinks it's the most powerful thing she's ever felt, that moan.
Her hand ghosts back down his chest to grasp him and he makes the noise again. Katniss breaks the kiss just barely enough so she can whisper against that plump lower lip, "Help me?"
She's just closed the gap to that tempting lower lip when she feels his larger hand cover her own where it rests around his dick. He guides her hand around his shaft while they kiss. It's awkward, and his grip seems much too tight, but he opens his mouth and his tongue eagerly tangles with hers as their grip tightens. One stroke. Two. She loses count, especially because his hips begin to move.
He breaks the kiss and gasps quietly, "I'm not going to last."
"What?" It takes her a moment to realize that he's speaking, especially because their hands are still moving.
"I'm going to—" His sentence is interrupted by a groan. His hand stops hers and squeezes tightly over the tip.
"Peeta?" She asks.
He exhales shakily. "I need a minute."
"For what? I thought it felt good."
He chuckles ruefully. "A little too good. I want this to last as long as possible." At her confused look, he tucks a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "You kissing me and touching me feels amazing. I want to freeze this moment and live in it forever."
She sits back. "Oh, come on. That's such a line."
He shakes his head. "No, it's not. I want more than 5 minutes with you."
"We've been through this. I can't be your girlfriend. I don't even know how to do that."
He sighs. "I know. I'm sorry." There's silence for a minute or two before he asks quietly, "Will you lay down with me?"
Katniss lets him pull her down until she snuggles against his still-naked body. He kisses her gently on her nose first, then her cheeks. Finally, his lips ghost against hers. Something in her cracks wide-open at the soft pressure and the shared breath.
Two Months Later:
Katniss barely allows the bell to Cartwright's Shoe Store announce her presence before she prowls toward Delly Cartwright and announces, "I need to see Peeta."
Delly smile is too wide for her face, her blonde hair piled high on her head shaking with enthusiasm. "Katniss!" she squeals. "It's so good to see you! It seems like this summer was so far away, doesn't it? How is Walmart treating you? I hear sporting goods sales are up now that you've moved fishing and archery closer to each other."
Katniss closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose. "Delly, stop talking for a minute and listen. I need to see Peeta."
The blonde girl's smile grows impossibly wider. "You do? He'll be so happy to hear – wait. There's nothing wrong, is there? You used the condoms Thom and I left for you?"
Katniss rolls her eyes and sighs. "There's nothing wrong."
Delly draws closer and pats Katniss's hand. "Then come over here and try on some shoes. Shoes make everything better. You're a size seven, medium-width, right? Have a seat and I'll bring out just the thing from the back."
Delly disappears behind the curtain.
Katniss dutifully sits on a velvet cushion and picks at a loose thread. "I don't need shoes."
Delly's muffled voice carries from behind the barrier. "You're a girl. All girls need shoes." After a few minutes of rustling, Delly returns with a pile of shoe boxes. "I think you're going to love these. Now, tell me why you think you need to see Peeta."
Katniss hides her face in her hands, seemingly oblivious to Delly's removal of her steel-toed combat boots. "I haven't been sleeping well," she confesses. "I have nightmares."
Delly uses a mint-scented wipe on Katniss's feet. "This should invigorate and refresh you before we get to the good stuff."
Katniss ignores her. "My nightmares used to be about my dad. Now, though, I just keep seeing Peeta's face. The way it looked when we said goodbye after the lake house. Maybe I'm a terrible person. Should I have given him a chance?" She looks up at Delly. "I told him I don't know anything about being a girlfriend. I was honest. What the heck do I know about that?"
Delly takes her time looking through the boxes before locating the exactly right pair of red mules with sequins and feathers. "Slide your foot into this."
Katniss snaps out of her reverie. "I am not trying those on."
"Katniss, you are the bravest, smartest woman I know. I wanted to be you in high school. Trust me when I say that you'll feel better once you see the new perspective that a ridiculous pair of shoes will give you. Now, give me your foot." Delly picks up Katniss's foot and slides it into the shoe, then follows it with the other. "Get up and walk around."
Katniss wobbles a bit as she stands. The heels are higher than she's used to, and even taking a step seems unthinkable. Delly stands and reached out with both hands to help her take one step, then another. They're both staring at Katniss's feet when Katniss mumble-asks, "Do you think I could do it?"
Delly makes show of considering the shoes. "I think that Katniss Everdeen accomplishes whatever she sets her mind to. So let me ask you, do you think you can do it? Because no one else's opinion matters." The blonde steps back to let Katniss walk the length of the store on her own.
Katniss almost falls twice. In the end, she makes it back to the velvet stool and flops into it. "These just aren't me."
Delly kneels at her feel and carefully eases the shoes off of Katniss's feet. "Of course they're not. They sure are pretty, though. And now that you've tried them, aren't you glad you did?"
"You mean because now I know that I can't walk in four inch heels. Sure. I'm thrilled." Katniss rolls her eyes.
Delly rolls hers back. "I'm serious. You tried something new and it wasn't so terrible, was it?"
Katniss gapes. "Are you seriously trying to teach me a lesson here? With shoes?"
Delly shrugs and hands Katniss her own socks. "I don't have enough saved yet to cover for my psychology degree, so I have to practice somewhere. Besides, I think it's interesting that you didn't ask me if Peeta is worth it. That tells me a lot about where you're at in this whole process." She stands as Katniss double knots her shoelaces. "I think that you need to get over yourself, see Peeta and figure out where this thing between you goes. You two have been dancing around each other since we were all kids."
Katniss tugs her jeans down over the tops of her boots and looks up at where the blonde girl stands with her hands on her hips. "So, you'll take me to see him?"
Delly nods. "Next time I head up that way to see Thom, I'll take you."
Katniss spends hours planning what she's going to say when she sees him. By the time Delly pulls into her driveway in her daddy's Chevy Cruze, Katniss has talked herself out of every prepared speech. And by the time Delly chatters her way through the two hour drive to Peeta's school, Katniss has almost talked herself out of the trip entirely.
"Here we are!" Delly chimes as she parks. As if it's not obvious to Katniss that they are on a college campus, what with all the co-eds wearing University of South Carolina sweatshirts and toting backpacks. Katniss takes a minute to stretch her legs and breathe deeply of the crisp fall air. It's a nice change from the car's cherry air freshener.
"And who are you lovely ladies?" A spectacularly handsome ginger approaches them.
Katniss's first instinct is to scowl at his over-familiarity. Delly is nonplussed, though, and chortles at his flirting. "Finn? It's Delly, Peeta's friend. And this here is Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, this is Peeta's roommate, Finnick Odair."
Finn raises an eyebrow and scans her from head to toe. "Kat-niss Ever-deen. Where have I heard that name before?"
She bristles. "I'm sure I don't know."
Delly, who prides herself on being helpful, beams in her direction. "Oh, she's a friend of Peeta's, too. She's here to surprise him."
Finn whistles long and low. "Kat-niss, Kat-niss. A surprise, you say?" He pauses for a moment, concentrating. Finally, something seems to click. "Katniss, you wouldn't happen to like Flamin' Hot Funyuns, would you?"
Katniss tilts her head to the side. "They're my favorite. Why?"
Finn smiles. "If you're here to see my roommate, Peeta, you'll see why soon enough. He's the only guy I know who thinks the way to a girl's heart is Irritable Bowel Syndrome." At her blank look, he turns to Delly. "Why don't you guys head upstairs? I can let you in and you can hang out until Peeta gets back."
"He's not here?" Katniss practically squeaks. In all of the scenarios she's played in her head, Peeta is always available.
Finn leans into her personal space. "Relax, fair one. He's at wrestling practice. The guy has to burn off all that pent up energy somehow, and who am I to comment on the fact that he chooses to do it with other scantily clad men? To each his own, I guess. He's always back before lunch so he can rag on whatever bread they offer up for sandwiches. He's a perfectionist when it comes to his baked goods."
"He's a baker." Katniss defends. She doesn't like that Finn responds with a wink and a shrug. Before she can expound on Peeta's talents, she's cut off.
Delly chirps, "Katniss, it will be fine. Why don't you go with Finn? When Peeta gets back, you guys can talk."
Katniss gulps. She hadn't anticipated an audience, but she also hadn't anticipated feeling like the visit was a move into hostile territory. "You're not staying?'
Delly shakes her head. "I'm going to find Thom. You'll be fine. Text me later tonight and the four of us can grab dinner and decide on a plan for the ride home."
"Okay." She nods. It's not as if she has much of a choice. As she follows Finn up the exterior stairs to the dormitory, she gives a last glance back to her friend. Delly waves enthusiastically and gives her a thumbs up.
Finn shows her to a dorm room. She thinks it must be pretty normal for a college dormitory: two beds, two dressers, two desks, and a couple of small bookcases. One entire bookcase is stacked with bag after bag of Flamin' Hot Funyuns. The sight makes her smile wistfully at the memory of Peeta saving her a bag at the lake house. Her delight turns to amazement as she gapes at the insane gaming PC that takes up one of the desks. And is that an actual 3-D printer? The other desk has a small laptop and a sketchpad open on top if it.
She does a double-take at the image on the pad because...well...it's her. Peeta's drawn her just waking with the morning light streaming over her features, highlighting them in a way she's never seen before. She never knew she could look like that, or that someone would look at her and see her like that. Peeta would, she thinks. Peeta, who watched her through high school and probably still believes she thinks of him as a bug. A wave of longing for the lake house swamps her and she has to blink rapidly to fight the sheen of tears that comes with it.
She looks up to find Finn staring at her oddly, a soft smile on his face. "You care about him." It wasn't a question, so she doesn't answer. Finn doesn't seem to expect one. "I'm glad. When Peeta talks about you, he lights up. I didn't think there was a any way you reciprocated, since you never seemed to get in touch with him. But seeing you now in his space, I can see it on your face." There's a pause as he gathers a messenger bag and checks it for supplies. Finally, he stops in front of her. "I'm going to give you guys some time to talk. Tell Peeta that I'll text him before I come back. Good luck, Katniss." He leans in and kisses her quickly on the cheek before he leaves her alone with her thoughts and Peeta's sketchpad.
She sits on his bed, eyes flitting from the Funyun's to the sketchpad, to Peeta's high school wrestling jacket thrown over the back of his desk chair. He's everywhere in this room and it feels so comfortable – so right – to be near him again that she can't help but curl up on his bed. In moments she's asleep, and it's the best slumber she's had since the lake house weeks ago.
"Katniss?" Peeta's voice wakes her. She blinks groggily before reaching to pull him down to join her on the bed. He half laughs-half groans, but he doesn't protest. Soon she's wrapped around his frame, one hand tangled in his hair, the other pushing up his wrestling t-shirt to rest on his bare chest. He drops a kiss on top of her head. "What are you doing here?"
She's too tired to answer that question directly. Besides, where else would she want to be? So she mumbles the only thing that makes sense before sleep pulls her under. "Stay with me?"
His response makes her smile, even in sleep. "Always."