Peeta pulls up to the small Seam house and feels his eyebrows rise into his hairline. He still can't believe Gale's mother allowed - no - demanded that he stay with them. He sighs, ready to tell Hazelle that he'll just crash at his own parents' house, even though he'd rather make the four hour drive back to campus and miss his high school's homecoming football game than stay under that roof. But as soon as he decides that's what he'll do, Gale comes bounding out of the house to welcome him.

"Peet! Dude, I'm glad you're here. I'm dying in this house," Gale jokes, embracing his college roommate and high school friend in a bear-hug. "Seriously. The kids are bouncing off the fucking walls. I need someone my age to talk to."

"Aww, thanks Gale," Peeta answers, resting his hand over his heart and pouting. "Good to know what you keep me around for."

Gale laughs and waits for Peeta to swing his backpack and duffel bag over each shoulder. "Come on, man. I'll show you to your room. And don't listen to Rory, you don't have to bunk with Vick."

The two walk in and are immediately accosted by Gale's younger siblings. Posey, who's just four years old, screams and runs at Peeta. He has just enough time to drop his bags and open his arms to scoop the little girl up. "Peet-ah!" She laughs, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck. "I missed you!"

Peeta laughs. In high school, he spent more time in the Hawthorne house than in his own and was around Posey all her life. He and Gale have been best friends for years, so by default, Peeta is close to the rest of the clan. Gale jokes that Posey usually asks about him rather than Gale when he calls home. "Hi there, little flower."

"Did you get my drawring?" She asks, snuggling her head against his neck as he shifts her to his hip.

"I did. It was very pretty."

Gale laughs from his new-found spot on the couch. "It's hanging up on his wall, Pos."

Her little brown eyes grow wide as saucers and her mouth drops. "Really?"

Peeta nods with a smile. "Sure is. It's my favorite one so far." He leans in close to Posey's ear and in a whisper just loud enough for the room to hear, he tells her, "Gale's just jealous that I get your best drawings."

Posey giggles and sticks her tongue out at her older brother who feigns hurt and collapses against Rory, who falls against Vick in a dramatic domino effect. Peeta can't help but feel envious of the easy nature these siblings show one another. He loves his own brothers, of course, but they aren't nearly as affectionate and playful with one another.

"Posey?" Hazelle, Gale's mother, calls from the kitchen. "Young lady, where are you? You were supposed to be putting away your cray-" she pauses as she enters the room and sees Peeta. "Peeta! You made it!" She wipes her hands on her apron and crosses the room to embrace him, squashing Posey between their bodies. Hazelle kisses his cheek and pats the other. "How was the drive?"

Peeta nods and sets the squirming Posey down. She runs into the kitchen, presumably to finish picking up her crayons like her mother wants. "It was good. A little construction on I-70 but nothing too major."

"Good. I'm so glad you decided to stay with us." Hazelle never questioned it when Peeta would stay at her house three nights a week during the school year. It only took one black eye on the blonde boy for her to understand. She knows Peeta is safer at college than he ever was at home, and while the thought often made her pity him, she's also glad he finally is out of that house for good. "You know you're always welcome, dear."

Peeta flushes at her tone. He knows she knows. He assumes Gale told her long ago, but he's thankful she never brought it up to his own parents. "Thanks."

She pats his cheek again. "You want to go put your stuff away? You'll be bunking with Gale, if that's alright?"

"Just like I'm used to," he answers, shooting a glance at Gale who was now teaching his brothers the wrestling moves Peeta used to teach him. "Thank you, Hazelle. Really. I ... uh ... I really appreciate you letting me-"

"Hush," she answers. Resting her hand between his shoulder blades, she points up the stairs. "It's the third door on the left."

"Right," Gale calls from under the pile of Hawthorne boy limbs.

Hazelle scoffs and rests her hand on her forehead. "Oh that's right. Left is where Katniss and Prim are sleeping. Aisley is out of town this weekend so the girls are staying with us. Third door on the right."

Peeta nods stiffly, trying not to let Hazelle's nonchalant announcement register on his face. The Everdeens are the Hawthornes' cousins, just as much a part of their family as he was at this point. Prim is Rory's age and Katniss...well Katniss is only a year or two younger than him and Gale and is the first, and only, girl he fell in love with. They were just kids when they met the first time but it was enough to plant the seed in Peeta's mind. In high school, she tooled around with them whenever she could, since she wasn't very social on her own. It annoyed Gale to have his cousin around all the time, but Peeta loved it. He took her under his wing and would fiercely defend her whenever he could. He tried not to let it show how bothered he was when strangers would assume she was dating Gale. Or when she would go out on dates with other losers from their year. Or when she laughed at him asking if she was going to prom his senior year. She'd always tell him he was basically her cousin as well, only less annoying. He knew that it didn't matter how much he wanted her, she didn't want him back.

During his and Gale's graduation party, she showed up in an orange sundress, with her normally braided raven-black hair down in soft waves around her shoulders. If it was possible for his heart to grow and break at the same time, it did. She hugged him harder than she ever had before, refusing to let go until she absolutely had to. And he could have sworn he saw tears glistening in her eyes when she finally told him "good luck" and ran off.

And here, on his first trip home after moving to school early, he's with her again. Just his luck. He hitches his bags back onto his shoulders and slowly begins the trek upstairs, closer to her. Peeta pauses at the third door on the left. It's slightly ajar and he pauses, contemplating if he should peak in on her. Just to say hi, he tells himself. They're friends, right? Or at least friendly. He pushes the door just a touch and finds her, alone, napping on the air mattress on the floor. No doubt she's giving Prim access to the more comfortable twin bed. She looks so peaceful when she sleeps, the hard scowl she often wears replaced by a relaxed face that is breathtakingly beautiful. She looks younger, less worn and bogged down by the responsibilities she's taken on herself.

He leans his head against the door and watches her for a few moments, wanting so much to lay down beside her and wrap her in his arms. He shakes that visual as quickly as it comes. It'll never happen and all it does is hurt him more every time he wishes that's what she'd want as well. With a sigh, he turns and enters the opposite room, which already looks like a tornado ripped through it. Gale is definitely the guy who makes himself at home anywhere he goes. Peeta was thankful when he moved onto campus two months before Gale did, just so he could have a clean space for a while. Once classes started, Peeta was lucky to see the floor on Gale's side of the dorm.

Peeta slips his bags onto the spare twin-sized mattress and slumps down next to them. He fishes his phone from his pocket, checking the text messages he got while driving. One from his brother about a party after the football game. One from his dad with the same instructions as always. Text when you get in, Peet. A few random ones from college friends asking what he was up to this weekend. Nothing was too urgent, save the one from his dad, so he types a short reply and tosses his phone onto his duffle. He leans back against the pillow Hazelle has provided for him and wonders if he'll have enough time for a nap before Gale needs more rescuing from the siblings.

He's not sure how long he's been out, as the dull roar from downstairs is about the same as it was when he came upstairs. The slight fuzziness of his brain tells him he most definitely fell asleep, but not for long enough. He rubs his eyes and stretches his arms to get the feeling back into them. He steps outside of his room and heads toward the stairs when he hears it. At least, he thinks he hears something; his brain is still groggy and he's nearly 90% sure he's hallucinating. Because there's no way he heard what he thought he heard.

"Uhh."

Oh. No, that was definitely it. Again. Coming from Katniss' room. He crosses the hallway and peaks back in, his mouth dropping. The blankets are kicked clear off of her, exposing her entire body; the tank top that clings tightly to her lithe frame, the white lace boy shorts that he can't tear his eyes from. He pushes the door open about a half an inch further, freezing when the hinge lets out a squeak. Fuck. He squeezes his eyes closed and sends up a prayer that she won't wake up and see him.

But Katniss is no longer sleeping. Her eyes may be closed, but her movements are too deliberate to be acting out a dream, and a knowing smirk is playing on her lips. Shit. He swears the entire house - including Katniss - can hear his heart racing, and that she's going to open her eyes and catch him. But her eyes remain closed and he allows himself to exhale softly. Her hands roam her body, starting at her hips and sliding up her sides. She cups her breasts and caresses her throat. She tangles her fingers in her hair, then releases them and lets them slip back down again. He watches as her body slinks and rounds, following the motion of her touch.

He knows he shouldn't be standing there watching her. This is clearly a private moment that she means to spend just by herself and with no onlookers, especially her cousin's best friend who, according to her, was just as much a cousin. Just remembering that make watching feel infinitely more wrong, but he can't look away. There she is, just lying there. But so obviously not just lying there. Her fingers roam over her body as her hips continue their dance. He feels the familiar fire building in the pit of his stomach.

He's thought of her like this before. Many times, even if he had given up hope of ever seeing her like this. Not that he ever imagined he'd see her like this. Lying in bed and waiting for him. He could easily convince himself that she was thinking of any other guy, that she was just being an 18 year old girl who figured there wouldn't be anyone else upstairs, but he doesn't want to. He wants this fantasy.

He shouldn't be here. In her doorway. Watching her. Wanting her.

He should walk away; close her door, head back downstairs and forget what he's watching before he sees too much and can't. He knows this. Yet he can't pull himself out of the trance. And, honestly, he doesn't want to forget.

Her disheveled braid surrounds her head like a raven-halo. It may have been cliche, but everything about her was angelic - her olive skin and piercing silver eyes, the way she loved so deeply but never let anyone see, her selflessness and purity. As far as he was concerned, she was some exquisite creature from another world. What she is doing now is not so angelic. Her fingers inch the hem of her tank top further up her body, exposing her toned stomach and a piercing he didn't know she had. He chokes back a groan as she slips the thin garment up and over her breasts. She isn't as well-endowed as some of the girls he had fooled around with in the past, but as far as he's concerned, she's perfect. And there they are, no long hidden under a tank top or sweater or hunting jacket.

This is a problem. There's something wrong with him. He shouldn't be here but it's too late. He watches her play with her breasts, caressing them with her long, slender fingers. She kneads the small mounds, pinching and lightly tugging on her pebbled nipples, letting out moans of pleasure and pain. Her mouth is open, her forehead furrows and her cheeks blush. He watches her thigh muscles flex with her movements. A thin sheen of sweat builds on her forehead as her teeth graze over her bottom lip.

He feels his cock twitch as one of her hands slowly, ever-so-slowly, painfully slowly, dances down her torso to the waistband of those white lacy panties that hug her body. They stay above the fabric, ghosting over her, brushing against her inner-thigh. Like a lover would. Like he would. He imagines those are his fingers touching her smooth skin, massaging her legs, teasing her clit, knowing for certain how wet she is. Because of him. No. For him. His dick is aching for a release but he stays frozen, afraid to move and make any noise that may alert her to his presence. Her fingers finally slip under her panties and she lets out a gasp at the contact. His breathing increases and he's certain she can hear him but if she can, she doesn't let on. She's making broad, focused circles over her clit, her spare hand still on her breasts, alternating from one to the other, her whimpers and labored breathing filling the room.

Peeta's attention flits between her left and right hand, listening to her light pants, trying desperately to fight the urge to slip his own hand down his shorts. She finally lets out a frustrated groan and he feels his heart stop. He heard that noise from a high school girlfriend in their "experimental" stage, where it feels good but it's just not enough. He's sure she'll catch him. Yet her eyes remain closed and she lifts both legs into the air, raises her hips just enough, and slides the undergarments completely off.

He deserves a fucking medal for not blowing his load right now.

Both hands are focused on her newly-exposed skin. She runs her nails over her skin, leaving light red marks in their wake. She doesn't leave herself alone for long and is back to rubbing furious circles over her clit. Her free hand slides down and she easily glides one finger deep inside her. She exhales with a high pitched moan and begins to thrust her hips in motion with her fingers. He sees a slight curve in her finger and he can't stop himself anymore. He lets out a deep growl, thankful she's making enough noise to cover him.

"Oh fuck, Peeta!" She moans, as her head falls back against her pillow, the sweat shining off her entire body. "Peeta."

He has never heard his name spoken in that way before. He never imagined he'd hear it out of Katniss' mouth. Like that. Like she is. He thought there was no way she could be interested in him and here she is, chanting his name over and over again, head thrashing to the side, face furrowed in anticipation. Her body rocks off the air mattresses and she comes in almost complete silence. Her mouth is wide open and her throat is strained, but she remains quiet until she comes back down and lets out the most erotic cry he's ever heard. She is still, refusing to move just yet, but he can see her muscles twitching all over her body. She's panting, licking her lips to get moisture back into them, when she finally slides her fingers out of her and rests them against her hip bones. A smile forms on her lips and she lets out a laughing breath. Her eyes flicker open for half a second and he could swear that in that moment, they locked onto his. And it's him who has to turn away, panicking that she may have actually seen him.

Peeta turns and all but runs into the bathroom down the hall, still trying to remain quiet, which has never been a specialty of his. He slams his back against the bathroom door and rips his shorts down to the floor. Fuck me. He can't get the image of what he's just seen out of his head and what he'd do if he could. He pictures his lips and tongue roaming her body. Or her mouth around him, looking up at him with those silver eyes that have haunted his dreams for years. He imagines her long legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusts into her. He wants to be the one who makes her whimper and moan. He needs to hear her pant his name like that. "Oh fuck, Peeta!"He comes with a groan, having just enough foresight to grab a tissue from the box beforehand.

He slides down to the floor and takes a few deep breaths to regain his composure. "What did you just fucking do?" He asks himself, his head falling to his chest and his hands grabbing at his hair. "What. The fuck. Did you just fucking do?" He crossed a line that he never should have. He had absolutely no right to be standing there watching her. That was Katniss. Gale's cousin. Katniss. Katniss.

He pushes himself off the floor and pulls his shorts back up. He splashes some cool water on his face, hoping it'll help clear the red cheeks he always gets after an orgasm. He could easily explain it away to the majority of the Hawthornes, but Gale's his best friend and would catch the tell right away.

"Well look who finally decided to join us," Gale jokes as Peeta makes his way down the stairs. "Good morning starshine."

Peeta's ready with a retort when he hears Katniss answer behind him. "Oh shut your pie-hole, Gale. Maybe I just wanted some time...to myself." She passes by Peeta, who has stopped short on the stairs, and places a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Peeta, it's good to see you," she says in a breathy voice with a half smile.

Peeta.

He'd be lying if he said his name didn't cause an almost immediate twitch in his shorts, but he shook his head. This was definitely not the place to be letting that out. "Uh, hey, Katniss. How, uh, how are you?"

She cocks an eyebrow and leans against the wall to face him. "Oh, surviving the perils of high school alone since you decided to desert me." She smiles and squeezes his shoulder. "I'm glad you're staying here with us. I've missed you." She says this last part so quietly, he almost doesn't catch it. She glances away from him and goes to the kitchen to help Hazelle.

It's not like he can avoid watching the sway in her hips as she leaves. Or the quick glance back over her shoulder at him, her teeth worrying the edge of her bottom lip. Or that subtle wink. Not now that he knows what she really looks like. Or what sounds came from from that mouth. Oh fuck. This is going to be a long weekend.


AN: This started out as a Freak Fic Friday for tumblr. But there was some asking for it to be on here so people could find it. Soooo. Here it is. As always, I do not own anything about these characters except this particular scenario. All real thanks goes to Suzanne Collins for introducing us to this world and these people. On a personal note - Thanks to Sunfish for her excellent editing eye and helping get through some of the trickier parts of this little fic.