I was exhausted.

I had spent the whole day helping reconstruct District 12. It didn't help that Peeta was as hard and determined as ever, not to mention bossy. Ever since he was chosen to lead us in the Reconstruction of 12, he takes serious control, which I am usually ok with. I like strict Peeta but he hasn't been this serious since his coaching for the Quarter Quell. He even threw away all of Haymitch's liquor and made sure no more came in from the deliveries brought in by the train.

This of course made Haymitch throw fits which, needles to say, didn't help at all. Peeta made sure this was changed. He promised Haymitch he would never see liquor in his life again if he didn't help so Haymitch agreed to help when he wasn't passed out on the couch or having a pounding headache.

Peeta is softer on me but is still hard enough to make me accomplish what he wishes, the only reason he hasn't got an arrow through his head is because he's doing this for District 12. For home.

A few weeks after he came back, I started to go over to his house. We spent hours in awkward silent. Me working on the book and him baking. Eventually, he decided he had enough. Being as good as he was with words, he managed to make me talk and after a while, it felt natural. He was still hurt and I knew it, as was I, so he kept the conversations casual. I didn't mind. In fact, I was grateful.

I can't say there wasn't any drama, he had episodes. I cried, threw things against the wall and refused to eat but we had our ways of dealing and we usually did it separately. There were countless times when we comforted each other and his arms were there for me as were mine for him. Those moments were brief. We didn't sleep together and the next day we pretended it never happened. Being the coward I was, I never brought it up and he didn't either, I was thankful for that too.

Unfortunately, nothing stable ever lasts long for me. The odds make sure of that.

Not even a whole month after our casual relationship, I had a nightmare. One of the really bad ones I hadn't had in a while. I'm not sure why but when you've survived the games twice and lost so much in such short time, nothing really ever has an answer. My screams must have been loud enough to wake Peeta, fortunately not loud enough to wake Haymitch.

He came rushing through my bedroom door, I never close my front door, and came next to my bed. I only remember a strong grip on my shoulders and a frantic voice yelling, "Is not real, it's not real! The voice urged me to come back and eventually, after I don't know how long, I did.

When I woke, I saw the only person who I, aside from Haymitch who didn't really count, had left. His face was pale and his eyes were frantic.

For a moment we just stared at each other then I made a horrible choking sound and clutched the front of his shirt as I buried my face in the crook of his neck. None of those other times we spent comforting each other meant as much as this moment, not even on the days he had his episodes.

He held me as I cried. It wasn't until the smell of sugar and cinnamon hit my nose that I realized he was probably never asleep but baking.

It in was that moment that I realized how much of a fighter Peeta Mellark really is and how self centered I was being yet again.

He had lost people too, friends and even family. He had gone through hell and back. Like all of us victors, he had been through a lot. The girl he loved used him, he never really had her. He went through something much worse than death itself and even then he didn't give up. He came back home, he fought through a lot his episodes alone. He never drank, his only way out was painting and baking and he used those escapes. He never showed weakness in front me unless he was in the middle of an episode. And even then though, I suspect that he did it more for my sake than his.

That's another thing, even after all I've put him through; my boy with the bread has never left me and unless I asked him he never will. Not that I want that, I'm too greedy to ever let him go.

That night, while we were wrapped around each other, I decided to face him, or at least stop running away.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to expect me to do that any time soon. I'm sure he was certain I wouldn't want to face him after what had happened the night before. He expected me to hide and, after all this time, I couldn't blame him.

The next morning, he was gone. My thoughts were he did it to avoid making me uncomfortable and that made me mad. Who did he think he was to decide what I would feel or decide?

Someone who's been hurt over and over, again and again by the same girl but has always done what's in his power to stand by herself anyway.

I felt a pain of guilt and quickly got dressed in flats and jeans. I found an orange blouse that was almost a sunset color. After putting it on, looking at my reflection in the mirror and frowning at my visible scars, I set out.

The moment I was out the door, I shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold.

I climbed up his stairs determinedly but when I reached the door I hesitated.

Should I knock? His door was always open. Was I covering some sort of forbidden ground?

I internally scolded myself. How could I be so foolish? This was Peeta, my Peeta.

I took a deep breath, opened the door, and made my way to the kitchen. Nothing and I mean nothing had ever prepared me for the view I encountered.

Peeta was shirtless.

I had seen this view before but at that time I was determined to keep the ones I loved alive and the revolution going. At that time, I never thought of romance, never thought what it what it would feel like to have strong arms embracing and holding me at night or at random times during the day.

But the moment I crossed the doorway, all I wanted was for those bare arms to hold me and for that bare chest to be pressed up against mine.

Peeta, deep in thought, didn't look up from the dough he was currently working on and I silently watched him. I admired the way his muscles flexed as he pressed on the dough and was mesmerized by his long, almost invisible lashes and the way his blonde hair fell forward.

I was broken out of my trance by a certain somebody who would have been killed on the spot, had I brought my bow and arrows with me.

"Well, well, well." He said and chuckled.

Peeta looked up, his eyes widening at the side of me. He hastily rinsed off his hands, hurriedly took his shirt from a chair and tried to pull it on but Haymitch laughed.

"I wouldn't even bother, son. Seems like Girl on Fire here was enjoying the display."

My cheeks flushed and and I glared at Haymitch. He seemed to compose himself and actually looked somewhat scared but then he burst out laughing.

"Awww, you match your name now, Sweetheart."

I blushed even more furiously and made up my mind to slap that stupid grin off his face when suddenly Peeta appeared next to me and gently held me back.

"Don't Katniss, it's not worth it." I relaxed and stiffened all at once and all I could think is how my skin tingled where he touched me and how I loved the sound of my name on his lips I wouldn't have heard what he said to Haymitch had he not let go of me. "Leave, Haymitch. This isn't a parade open to display."

"But a parade nonetheless." He laughed and Peeta glared daggers at him.

Haymitch put his hands up and said "I just came here for my bread, give it to me and I'll leave."

Peeta made his way into his kitchen, took a large paper bag from the counter and handed it to Haymitch, who, in turn took it and slapped Peeta on the back. I was expecting him to say something else that would get him killed but he just left without another word and closed the door behind him.

After he left, I didn't know what to do so I stared with great interest at the floor and probably would have done that the whole day had Peeta not cleared his throat. I looked up and there he was, with his arms crossed.

"You wanted to talk, Katniss?"

I didn't respond, I came here for one reason and one reason only; My Boy with the Bread.

I nodded ask the self power and determination I could and took long strides towards him. I took his face in my hands and clumsily kissed his lips. He stood there frozen for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around me and returning my kiss.

He pressed me closer to him and I ran my fingers through the curls at the back of his neck. I pushed him against the wall and he made a moaning sound at the back of his neck.

By now I could feel his excitement and it scared me but before I had time to think what to do to make him stop, he pulled away.

"We-" he gasped "we should stop."

I nodded and untangled my fingers from his hair and he reluctantly let go of me.

I took a step back. "So... What now?" It was the first thing I had said all morning.

"That shirt is doing things to me."

"I'll have you know, sir, it's a blouse."

"Like I care."

I feigned hurt and mock hit him on his arm, or at least attempted to. He had grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to him as he placed his other hand on my waist.

"You're not helping the whole 'stopping' thing very much."

"Neither are you."

"What do you want me to do? Change?"

"I hardly think it'd make a difference."

"Fine, so baking?"

"I've had enough of that for now. Maybe I could help you on the book again?"

I stared at him with widened eyes.

"If that's ok with you." He added quickly. Ever the gentleman.

"Ok." I nodded.

"You sure?"

I smiled. "Definitely."

That's how we spend our day. I watched as he moved his hands across the paper, bringing life to pictures that wouldn't ignite a storm inside me, no Rue, no Finnick, no Prim. I loved watching the way his hands worked.

When he caught me looking he smiled and said "You love me, real or not real?"

I responded in a beat, with no hesitation "Real."

He smiled, kissed me and got back to work. I love how the transaction in our relationship happened so easily and fast. It was as if we were both ready but just waiting for the other to make the first move. I smiled at the thought and even though I missed those hands being on me, I decided it was best to wait. Why hurry? We had all the time in the world.

Today however, I want nothing more than for him to come home. I haven't spent any time whatsoever with him unless he's bossing me around and we don't sleep together because he claims it's a distraction.

Well duh, that's the point.

I had had enough stress to last various lifetimes so I decided to take a bath. I filled the tub up with steaming water and put in pine perfumed bubbles in.

I slipped into the water, let the oil from the bubbles sooth my muscles. I closed my eyes and relaxed, let the smell of pinewood remind me of the woods, and fell into a deep sleep.

Later I was in a robe on my bed.

The problem? Well, I never woke up. I was naked under the robe and at the edge of the bed sat no other than Peeta Mellark.

I sat up and stared at him in disbelief. He smiled meekly at me.

"Hey."

"What-did you? How? Why? What?"

"Um," he reached at the back of his neck. "you were kinda asleep when I came into the bathroom. The water was cold already; I didn't want you to get sick. I'm not sure how long you were in there but I took you out and..."

He doesn't seem able to continue. His face flushes a deeper shade of red and he looked down.

"You took me out?" He nodded. "Naked?" He nodded again.

I knew he had already answered these questions but I didn't know what to do.

"Um...thanks, I guess." He looked up and tried a genuine smile. "You're not mad?"

"What would it serve of? Plus, you're making it impossible for me to stay mad at you."

He smiled. It was a beautiful smile, like the rest of him.

"You're welcome then, I guess." I don't know what motivated me to do the following, maybe it was the realization of the fact that this beautiful man was all mine.

I smiled. "But...it's not fair."

He looks at me confused.

"You've seen me but I haven't seen you." I made my way to him and straddled him.

His eyes widened. "Kat, I don't-"

I hushed him. "We don't have to do anything. I just want to see you, for you to see me, to hold me until i fall asleep." The last few words fell to a hushed whisper. I mustered my courage for I was about to do next. "I've barely had any time with you to myself." I said as I undid the string of my robe and slipped it off my shoulders. I shivered when my still wet hair touched my back. I was now bare to him. He seemed to be struggling not to touch me. "You can touch me, Peeta." I wanted him to touch me. No, I needed him to touch me. "Please touch me." I wanted to touch him-needed to, craved it. I pulled at hem his shirt while I admitted it, all of it, to myself. I, Katniss Everdeen, craved the feel of Peeta, craved his touch. Needed it.

"I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself."

"I trust you." I did, I always have. Since the moments with him in the damned, yet blessed cave in our first arena. Where we unknowingly vowed to protect each other, no matter what. Why I ever doubted it, seems so unclear now, so stupid. He didn't say anything or even nod, he just lifted his arms and allowed me to take off his shirt. I ran my fingers along the top of his shoulders, he shivered and his fingers gripped my hip. I took it as a good sign and ran my hand down his chest. When I reached the waistline of his pants, I stared at his excitement. It looked pretty big and for some reason it filled me fear and lust.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to. If I shouldn't be embarrassed, neither should you."

He looked like he wanted to say something and I had a feeling I knew what it was. I undid the zipper and the button of his jeans while he kicked off his shoes. I pulled the material of his pants and boxers down and when I could pull down no more, Peeta stood up and I locked my legs around his bare hip. I pulled down the rest of that I could of his pants and he sat back down before I could fully register how amazing it felt when his member was pressed up against me.

He struggled off the rest of his pants. We laughed as he struggled with his socks, eventually giving up and lifting up his each leg and pulling then off.

He made his way to the middle of the bed, carrying me along with him, making it difficult but not impossible. I pushed down on his chest and stared at him in awe. How could something that I was once too freaked out about make me feel the way I was feeling?

I finally felt what a woman was supposed to feel when she looked at a man she truly wanted; with lust and love.

Of course, his body was marked with scars, as was mine but each one of them was intriguing and beautiful.

"Peeta," I breathed out. "you're-"

"Horrible, I know."

"Beautiful." I looked at him. "You're beautiful, Peeta Mellark."

"Not nearly as much as you."

I laughed. "Peeta, look at me, I'm covered in scars. This is not what a girl my age is supposed to look like, she's supposed to be smooth skinned with no major scars all over her body."

"Katniss, we all have scars, it's part of what makes us who we are and you are mine, Katniss Everdeen."

"And you are mine." I whisper.

He pulls me down on top of him and gently rolls us over.

"I love you. Don't ever forget that."

"I never will. I love you." He smiled and then he chuckled.

"What?"

"You said it."

"What? That I loved you? I've said it before."

"I'll never get tired of hearing it"

"Good because you'll be hearing it a lot more." And it was true. Since the moment I told him it was real, I knew it was. I knew there was no point in hiding it. That night was spent in strong embraces, caresses, and soft kisses. Not once did he hurt me or take anything too fast.

That was the Peeta I knew and the one I would hold on to no matter what. Flaws and all.