Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. If only...

"We're like broken soldiers," Haymitch begins, stops, belches, moves on. "The heroes without the glory. Everyone cares that we helped them survive, but they don't care if we survive. We lost our shine long ago, baby, and the next place we're headed is the trash can. Trust me. It's a fucked up world, sweetheart. Best get used to it."

He lifts up the bottle of whiskey (the one I was sure Peeta had snatched and hid in our basement) and toasts the empty air. "Here's to us, sweetheart. Here's to us and our inevitable demise."

How in the fuck did I ever think coming to Haymitch was a good idea?

I get home around six that evening. Yeah, I knew Haymitch wouldn't help me in the slightest; but it was nice to have company. Someone who liked me, whether it be because I'm just like him or not; I didn't really fucking care.

Peeta was…well, I couldn't find him anywhere. And I'm not surprised. He had another flashback today. That's why I visited the ball of joy that is Haymitch. I couldn't stay. Not then. I couldn't stand and watch the man I love fall to pieces. I couldn't just sit there and way for it to be over. To listen as the cruel words that cut me to the core race out of his mouth, like he couldn't pause for breath in the middle of telling me how much he hates me. How I'm a Mutt. A bitch. The one who ruined his life.

Sometimes that shit just gets too fucking old.

So, as per usual, I found solace in Haymitch and his house with the ever-present Hazel vacuuming upstairs. I stole a few swigs from his whiskey bottle, the poison burning as it made its way down my throat, but it helped, so I kept the look of disgust off my face.

Anyway. I got back home, hoping for Peeta but not expecting him at the same time. Hoping beyond hope but knowing it was probably for shit.

And it was. A quick search of the house told me he hadn't been there for hours.

The bakery. He's probably at the bakery.

Since we came back home, all of Peeta's focus and energy has gone into rebuilding his family's bakery. I think he finds solace in the hard work the way I find solace at Haymitch's house. By the time he gets home he's exhausted and the only time he wakes up during the night is to comfort me when I have a nightmare.

He'd wrap his arms around me, directing my head to his neck, his warm, warm neck, and whisper in my ear; whisper how it was gonna be alright, how he was there, everything was over, I didn't need to cry anymore, he loves me. And I eventually calm down and fall asleep in that same position.

It's not an exact science. But it works.

The exhaustion Peeta inflicts upon himself is an exact science, however. He goes to the bakery each morning, spends hours upon hours building structures and cementing walls until it gets too dark to see. By the time he drags himself home, dinner is cold and he's too tired to even care. He drags his sore body up to the shower and then falls into bed, asleep only minutes later.

And I can't help but resent him for it.

I tried doing what he does. One morning I tagged along to help with whatever needed doing at the bakery and yes it did exhaust me, but I still found myself screaming from the nightmares just a few hours later. Peeta held me, of course, but that nightmares seemed even worse.

I never went back to the bakery.

But I needed something to do. And since the electric fence wasn't around the district anymore, I grabbed my old bow, my father's hunting jacket, and set out to hunt down some animals. I ended that day with six squirrels and a deer. I gave the deer to Greasy Sae (selling it just didn't feel right anymore) and kept the squirrels for dinner that night.

Peeta got home early and the squirrels were just about done when he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Whatcha making?" he whispered in my ear.

I shivered at the contact, very rare these days, and smiled. "You remember what you said in the first Games? About how I always get the squirrels right in the eye?"

He nodded, looking confused. "Well," I began again. "I decided to test your theory on that. Turns out you were right."

He laughed as I produced four squirrels on a plate, perfectly speared through their right eye and cooked through to the bone. And that night he stayed up long enough to not only eat, but to work on my father's plant book as well.

It was one of the best nights of my life. No nightmares for either of us.

But yesterday had been terrifying. It was one of the worst episodes he's ever had. He threw things, yelled, screamed, flipped out to the tenth degree in his pain and anger against the Capitol. I tried to calm him down again and again, but nothing helped. It was a night, an endless night of confusion, pain and terror. Terror he'd die, terror he'd live.

Because who would want to live like that? Seriously? Constantly waiting, thinking every day you're gonna have another episode? Explode with feeling once you finally do? Lash out at the-

No. I won't do this to myself.

Not again.

It was well past midnight when Peeta finally dragged himself in the house. He made his way to the couch and, not seeing me crouching there, unceremoniously dropped down on it. He let out a yelp as his head connected with my shin and looked up, surprise coloring his eyes as he recognized there was no threat.

"Katniss?" he asked. More like croaked. All the screaming he did earlier seemed to have worn his throat raw.

I looked down at him, this wild specimen of a man I fell in love with in the most unnatural way. He was unkempt; shirt pulled out of his dirty jeans, scuffed up shoes no longer laced, blonde hair almost dyed brown with dirt. He was a fucking mess.

But then why was I melting inside? Why was he making me think that he was the most beautiful man on earth?

Something must've been going on in his head too, because, next thing I knew, he was smiling his crooked smile and my lips weren't my own anymore.

I kissed him back headily, my mind fogging up with nothing but Peeta, Peeta Peeta Peeta Peeta. Somehow, and don't ask me how, we ended up in our bed, clothes shedding and falling to the floor, heat rising as his lips touched me all over my body. I moaned and squirmed beneath him, dizzy with lust and confusion.

We hadn't ever done this before. Laying on the bed, naked and ready? This was way out of my comfort zone. Sure, I'd seen him in various states of undress. At times he'd forget to close the door when changing and I'd unknowingly burst in, turning tomato red when I realized what he was doing.

And he's done the same. But not like this.

Not like this.

"Peeta…" I said, cut off by a burst of pleasure racing through my body as he gently kissed my breasts. I moaned at the contact, so very good but still so very confusing.

I never imagined what my first time might be like. That had nothing to do with survival. All those years of taking care of my mother, Prim, Gale; sex was as far back in my mind as it could get. But now that it was happening, pure confusion is the only thing I felt.

Well. It's not the only thing I felt…

"Oh, God, Peeta," I gasped, his lips dangerously close to where I needed him most.

Wait.

Needed?

Oh, no this is going too far too fast.

"Peeta," I said again, lacing my fingers through his hair and bringing him back to my lips. He kissed me hard, claiming my mouth greedily. I reluctantly pulled away, banging my head against the pillows beneath me.

"Katniss?" he asked, leaning back a little. "Katniss, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

I almost laughed at his question. "Peeta…I just…I've never done this before."

He leaned back more, tuckng a strand of hair behind my ear. "Katniss. I know. I've…" he blushed, looking away. "I've never done this before either." He looked back at me. "Did I hurt you? I don't really know what I'm doing…"

I gasped out a laugh. "Hurt me? Peeta, you're doing the complete opposite."

We both turned red at that. Peeta smiled his cute crooked smile and gave me a kiss. "Then what's wrong? Am I going too fast?"

I looked up at the ceiling. Was he going too fast? Every bone in my body was screaming NO! at me. So why was I stopping him?

"You're scared," he whispered. "You're scared because you want this and don't want this at the same time. That's it, isn't it?"

Slowly, I nodded my head. "I've heard stories from the girls at school. How it hurts…and I might bleed…I just want this to be special. I want you to…" I turned even redder. "I want you to feel good." Oh, god, words were not my forte. "And if I'm yelling in pain…"

Peeta stopped me, putting a finger to my mouth. "The only way I'll feel good is if you feel good. If we have to do this ten million times in order for you to enjoy it, then that's what we'll do. I love you, Katniss. Your pleasure is my pleasure."

How does he always know what to say?

I slowly nodded at him, bringing his lips back to mine. He settled on top of me, slowly tracing my lips with his tongue as his…ahem…thing rested against my opening. He fidgeted a little, his whole body moving, and I gasped at the feeling of him sliding against me, the best feelings spiking my veins like heroin to an addict.

But he stopped moving and started talking instead. "Katniss, if you don't think you're ready, I'll stop right now. I don't wanna push you-"

I couldn't wait for the end of that sentence. "Dear God, Peeta, please do that again."

He looked confused. "Do what again?"

"Move. Fidget. Whatever the hell you were just doing."

He adjusted his body again and again that feeling swept through my veins. I let out a very unladylike noise, my brain going fuzzy at the amazing feeling.

"You like that?" Peeta asked throatily. His bedroom voice caused quite the same reaction as his adjustments did and I let out another noise.

I grabbed Peeta by the shoulders, looking into his eyes. "I'm ready. I need you, Peeta. Right now."

He smirked. "Well, if you insist…"

He adjusted himself one last time, positioning himself at my entrance, pausing to look at me. "You're sure about this."

I nodded, closing my eyes. "Do it, Peeta."

I screamed at the pain, Peeta's cock buried right to the hilt, thrusting through my barrier like it was nothing. He kept whispering I'm sorry over and over again, kissing various spots on my body in an effort to calm me down.

I could feel him holding back, not letting himself do what he is biologically set up to do, so as not to cause me more pain. A tear leaked from my eye as the pain subsided, a dull ache replacing it as my body adjusted to his size. Which, in retrospect, was way bigger than I had anticipated.

"Peeta," I groaned, pain still radiating from between my legs. He brought his lips to mine, distracting me slightly with a gentle kiss.

He waited a while. He had more self-control than I gave him credit for. And finally, finally, I couldn't feel a thing.

And then finally, finally, pleasure began to twist through my entire being. I shifted a bit and gasped at the amazing feeling. I shifted again and moaned in unison with Peeta.

"Are you okay?" he panted, bracing his hands against the sheets on either side of us. I nodded frantically, urging him on.

He tested it once, slowly sliding out and gently back in. We both groaned again. "Please tell me you're ready." He gasped.

In response I clenched myself around him and he made the sexiest noise ever. He pulled out and thrust harder, nothing but pleasure causing my groans and moans as he did it over and over again.

Sweet tendrils of bliss wound through my being and I could feel a tightening in my belly, a glorious feeling I never wanted to stop. It built up in my system until I swore I couldn't take much more. And finally, for the first time, but certainly not the last, I exploded around Peeta, screamed to the high Heavens as my orgasm ripped through every nerve in my body.

Mine caused Peeta's, and soon we were screaming together, him spilling his seed inside of me, a welcome feeling, and it took forever for us to finally come back down.

He collapsed off to the side, pulling out gently and tucking me into the side of his body. We were both gasping for breath, this first experience of the true nature of love-making shaking us to the core.

And after, when he whispered, "You love me. Real or not real?"

I answered, "Real."