"Like this?" I asked, mashing my fingers into the sticky dough.
Peeta chuckled a little at my sad attempts at baking. "Not quite. You need some flour on your hands so it won't stick so much to your fingers. Look, like this." He reached for a large pinch of flour from a bowl full of the white powdery stuff and rubbed it into his hands. He took another large pinch and sprinkled it over the blob of dough. Then standing behind me he reached around and folded the dough together. His warm breath by my ear made my heart flutter, but I just bit my lip and watched his hands kneading the dough.
"Now you try," he whispered to me. I took some flour and did the same thing he did, sprinkling it on my hands and the dough. I mashed my hands into it trying to replicate what Peeta had done, but I just didn't have the same touch that he did with the dough. He snickered over my shoulder and put his hands on mine, moving my hands so that I was actually making progress kneading the moist mass. "See? You're doing it," he said, a grin plastered on his face.
I turned my head back to look at him, turning in his arms a little. "I guess I'm not a completely hopeless case when it comes to baking then," I smirked.
"Not with me to teach you." He said cockily.
"Of course." I said, touching his nose with a flour-covered finger tip, leaving a white fingerprint.
He laughed, "Oh, sothat'show it's going to be?" He smirked, poking my face with his floury fingers, dragging white lines across my cheek.
Laughing, I turned out of his reach and grabbed for a handful of four, tossing large pinches at him at a time. He followed suit and grabbed the bag of flour, chasing me around and throwing it at me.
In minutes the kitchen was covered in white and it looked like a bag of flour had basically exploded. We looked around and laughed. I put the now nearly empty bowl of flour down on the powdered counter top. Peeta came and wrapped his hands around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder. "Looks like we have a pretty big mess to clean up." He chuckled.
"Mmm…can't we save it for later?" I said.
"I guess…if you have something else in mind for us to busy ourselves with right now." He replied, a smirk creeping into his voice.
"Oh I can think of a little something." I said, turning around to face him.
"And what would that be?"
"How about…" I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his soft lips, tasting a bit of the flour that was still there. His hands made their way into my hair, and I could tell I was getting streaks of white in my hair right then.
We broke the kiss and grinned at each other. "Sounds good to me." He smirked and kissed me again. The kitchen could be cleaned later. For now, we were happy putting flour finger prints all over each other.