Translator's Note:Hey guys, this is PeetasAndHerondales (Cathy), and I would just like to clarify that this fanfiction is NOT mine; it is merely translated from the original one in Spanish called "Aprendiendo" by the extremely talented Sweet . dreams . 86, who has given me full support and permission to re-write it in English. Since I am not currently working on any stories, I have found this story to be my new obsession, and I wanted to share with it all of you. I hope that I do her work justice.

~Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

"You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know."

"NO!"

I opened my eyes just in that moment, startled, my breathing accelerated, noting how little drops of cold sweat rolled down my forehead and neck. I focused my eyes towards the alarm clock: seven in the morning. My gaze scanned the bedroom, directing it towards the window and resting it over the branches of the tree in the garden. A small chill went through me when I saw the small bird, its soft and bright black feathers stirred; it lifted a wing to comb its flank with care, and I could see the unpolluted white beneath it. I shuddered again; I couldn't avoid being affected over the simple act of seeing that tiny bird. Everything was different now…everything had changed, everything was… better? For whom? Surely not for me….

"Sssshhhh…" I heard the murmur in my ear. Another shiver went through my body, but this one was different – "Another nightmare?"

I shook my head gently; I would be lying if I had said yes, even if I was tempted to do so, if only for the heartwarming sensation of being nestled (even more) in between his strong, warm arms.

"It was just a strange dream…" I stroked the hand that he had placed over my waist. A hand that was soft yet big and strong, perfect for banishing nightmares.

I couldn't help looking again through the window; the bird was still there preening itself. I silently cursed the carbon-feathered mockingjay, and it flew off as if it had heard me. For a second I thought it would come into the bedroom, which caused me to stir again in shock, and, without meaning to, I became even closer to my bed companion.

"Hey…Katniss….what...?"

"Nothing…h-hold me…" I managed to murmur stuttering. I could hear his preoccupied sigh perfectly, but I didn't say anything, I just let him hold me in the same position in which we were, with him accommodated against my body from behind, perfectly embedded like two puzzle pieces. I closed my eyes again and allowed the gentle rhythm of his breathing against my ear to relax me.

It had been months since the war had ended, there was no other way to call the rebellion in which I had been forced to participate, the one in which they had turned me into their symbol without meaning to, the tragic lover, the survivor, the girl who had defied the Capitol and its farce….a necessary war with unnecessary deaths.

I closed my eyes tightly, I should…no, I had to eliminate those thoughts, it didn't do me any good to think of small Rue, or brave Finnick, or in…or in who it hurt me the most to think of, my sweet sister Prim.

Before, on occasions such as this, when a simple bird made me remember, I would let myself drown in pain, I would let the sorrow invade me and I would stop being me. I would stop eating and spend days thrown in bed, wrapped in between the sheets, and I would even neglect my own hygiene. I would blame and torture myself; I wanted to let myself die. Even after he came back, after I came back to "life," and after I came back to becoming aware of my own existence, I still had those episodes every now and then. At first he would go away, he would leave me alone until I recuperated my sanity.

But little by little his fears and my own began to disappear, or at least became controllable; he was no longer afraid to hurt me, and I had stopped hiding. That was how, during one of my numerous relapses, him, my boy with the bread, had begun to occupy the other side of my enormous bed. And that was how, slowly but surely, my pain had stopped being so intense, just like the nightmares that had faded away until they had almost dissolved, finding myself safe and surrounded by those strong arms, which gave me peace and security, just like before. How I wished it would last forever. And something deep inside me told me that he had returned and wished to share my sheets just as much as me.

I discarded those thoughts and proposed myself to enjoy the feeling of plenitude that Peeta gave me as he lay by my side as much as I could. I looked at the vase on the nightstand, the primroses inside it had started to shrivel up, but they contributed a sweet scent to the air, which was contrary to what I was usually thinking; they brought me nice memories, the memory of the first time that Peeta came back to the district, nearly completely recovered.

I lowered my gaze and smiled slightly to myself. Peeta's hand was posed over my belly, which was uncovered at the moment due to the wide summer shirt I had on. His fingers traced hundreds of shapes over my bellybutton, and a few below it, providing me with thousands of pleasurable caresses. I was sure that if I had the capacity to purr, I would be eliciting that soft feline murmur right then and there.

"Hmmm…. I'm beginning to understand Buttercup more and more each day," I said as he simply chuckled softly without ceasing his movements.

I couldn't pinpoint exactly when it was that we began with the soft strokes. In between nightmares, I had begun to play with his short curls, entangling my fingers in between his golden locks until they passed on to his neck and chest. His great chest…soft…muscular…cozy. I had a thousand and one adjectives just to describe his chest. I bit my lip and closed my eyes again for a second, I was rambling again. I wasn't the type to ramble over the anatomy of men. This had definitely changed, I was weaker now, something that I deeply hated, but I knew that Peeta adored it, he had told me so once, which had stopped me from complaining but had not stopped me from continuing to seek my strength. Perhaps I could combine the two things: his strength and his caresses.

The point was that in our relationship, the soft touches had turned habitual without us even noticing, and that it was something that would have made me blush before but I now thoroughly enjoyed without the slightest hint of a blush, for Peeta had become somewhat obsessed with my stomach. At first, his touches had directed themselves at my hair and arms, but one day they changed zone and nearly all of his attention had focused on that part of my anatomy. To be honest, I didn't understand him very much. My abdomen wasn't much different from the rest of my body, perhaps it was the color (since that part was clearer) or its feel (since it was softer), but whatever the case, Peeta liked that part, and I enjoyed his soft contact.

I settled myself on the bed a little better with my eyes closed again, and it was then that I noticed something hard against the end of my back. I became aware that whatever it was, that uncomfortable thing had been nailed against my body for several minutes now. I had been so lost in enjoying the sensations that Peeta was giving me that I hadn't noticed the subtle discomfort that such thing was causing me.

I traced Peeta's hand for a few seconds and then reached my hand behind me so that I could move whatever it was that was interposed between my comfort and Peeta's.

I managed to brush the pants of my companion for a mere microsecond; long enough to feel the obvious bulge that was beneath them. One moment, we had been laying there relaxed, fondling each other, and the next thing I knew, Peeta had parted from me and gotten up, leaving me astonished and trying to assimilate what had just happened without understanding anything at all.

"I'm going to take a shower, Katniss," he murmured as he tightened his fists, standing up and leaving the room without even looking at me and running as if he had just been chased by the devil.

I sat down on the bed, hugging my own knees, reviewing what had just happened one minute ago. The only things that passed through my mind were the dream, the mockingjay, the hug and the touches, nothing else, the same things as always, nothing unusual. Unless… he had been having another one of his attacks… I had been counting on the thought that he had controlled them, for they had been becoming weaker and farther apart with time, his "real or not real" questions had turned scarce, something that, in part, relieved me; I needed Peeta to be sure of himself. I kept trying to remember what had happened in the last two minutes. Nothing… there was nothing that I had done that would cause his body to react with the attack of one of his false memories.

Nothing….except…that uncomfortable thing stabbing me, my hand going back to touch something in his pants….wait a minute, HIS PANTS. My mouth fell open in an almost ridiculous manner, I was sure that my eyes were about to jump right out of their sockets. What I had touched was his…his…his….I couldn't even think that word. I obviously knew that romantic contact had its consequences, they hadn't exactly clarified it at school, but…where was the romantic contact in this situation? I knew that my feelings could unchain something more….carnal, but Peeta and I were over that, no? Even if I felt the fire inside me with some of the kisses…I could imagine where that fire inside Peeta was right now. And that thought led my cheeks to redden, and I could feel them hot and throbbing.

I rubbed my temples; I couldn't think clearly….I had grazed his intimacy with my fingers, his member, and not just that, but his member had been….in state of excitement, hard. I felt strange….thinking coldly, it shouldn't bother me so much, and it was something that happened normally with couples, no? And Peeta and I…what were Peeta and I? We slept together, we kissed, and we touched. But neither I nor he had put a label on it. Boyfriend and girlfriend? I moaned pitifully, I needed Peeta as much as I needed breathing. The days in which I opened my eyes and he wasn't in bed made me feel a knot in my stomach, although I knew perfectly well that he was downstairs, in the kitchen, baking some delicious buns. There were also those moments which I passed without him by my side. The oppression in my chest made me go look for him, or run back home…damn it, was that love? My goofy smile as I watched him knead….my agitated breathing against his lips, that tickling beneath my abdomen when I remembered his kisses…ugh, well love was stupid, it made me act irrational, and I didn't like that. But I supposed that Peeta's arms and kisses were worth it.

I jumped out of bed and dressed in my old hunting clothes, I adored my boots and my father's jacket, and I went downstairs, where I could still hear the shower water running. I stepped out of the house and ran around Victor's Village until I arrived to what used to be the old Seam. The new houses were coming out from beneath the debris, better constructed and much bigger than before. I crossed the fence and found refuge in the forest.

A/N- Thank you for reading! This is the first chapter of my first fanfiction on here. Please Review!

Translator's note- I hope that was accurate, and that you guys loved it as much as I did! I'll make sure to submit the feedback back to the original author. Leave love!