Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"Go get some rest, Katniss."

I look up and see Peeta smiling softly at me from behind the counter. Peeta had to take over the bakery for his father was home sick, his mother at home. I came over because I had nothing to do.

"It's Sunday," Peeta says, walking over to me and stroking my hair with a gloved hand. Even through the thick material, I could still feel the loving warmth in his fingers. "resting day. Sleep."

"I can stay here and watch you," I say, taking his hand in both of mine and sitting down at one of the wooden chairs. "besides, I've never seen you bake before."

Peeta laughs. "Okay, if you want."

He slides his hand away from mine and walks back to behind the counter. "Follow me into the kitchen then."

I stand up and follow Peeta through the doorway. He flicks on a light.

The scent of fresh bread overwhelms me so much that I become lightheaded. Peeta takes my hand and leads me over to the oven, sitting me down on a chair right next to it.

Peeta hums softly to himself, a hum so soothing, as he walks over to the counter and grabs the ingredients needed.

I watch as he preheats the oven, one hand adjusting the temperature, the other already mixing flour, baking powder, and basil in a small mixing bowl.

No words. No words can describe how I'm feeling.

My heart lifts as Peeta finishes by pouring the batter into a baking dish, and placing it into the oven.

"You're fast," I say, leaning my head back against the soft wall, still feeling dizzy.

Peeta laughs and leans against the oven. "It's called experience."

I smile slightly and close my eyes. Warmth in the air tells me Peeta has just walked over.

I pretend to be surprised when I open my eyes and see his face less than an inch from mine.

"Aa!" I say, letting out a little laugh.

"You're cute when you're scared," Peeta says, gently stroking my hair with his free hand, the one that wasn't holding mine.

"Thanks," I say.

A loud ding! interrupted our moment, and Peeta jumps up.

"Guess it's done," Peeta says, helping me up and bringing me over to the oven. He opens it with gloved hands and pulled out a pan of fresh, hot cheese bread.

"Delicious," I say, filling my lungs with the sweet scent.

"I know you are."

I laugh. "Eat one with me?"

"Of course."