"That snow just won't let up."

Katniss' words were whispered in his ear, and he smiled, snuggled in closer to her. "Is it such a bad thing? If it keeps snowing, we'll be stuck here for days. Alone."

She scoffed. "We've already been stuck inside for four. But you'd like an excuse to stay in bed even longer, wouldn't you?"

"With you I would," he agreed, lifting his hand so that it threaded through her long, black hair. It wasn't often that she left it free and loose like this, but he liked the times that she did. He liked the feel of it through his fingers, the silky strands, even the faint smell of honeysuckle from her shampoo. He remembered the first time he'd smelt it, those long nights on the train when they curled around each other to ward off nightmares, to try and ease each others pain.

She shifted slightly so that she could look up at him. "But you know how you get when you're housebound for too long. You need the interaction. I feel like very soon I'm probably going to be living with Mr Peeta 'Grumpy' Mellark."

"I won't be grumpy," he promised. "You know there's no one I'd rather be with than you."

With a wry smile, Katniss pulled away, slid out of bed and wrapped his old, deep blue robe around her body. "I know that's true. But I also know that you like to talk with Haymitch about his geese, and Thom about rebuilding the bakery, and Delly about her kids. You know you always go stir-crazy without the company." He watched as she padded across the room and slipped into the bathroom, her feet bare and silent against the wooden floorboards. He heard the running of water, light splashes that told him she was likely washing her face.

She was right, Peeta supposed. While Katniss could go for weeks without seeing anyone, and was much more interested in hunting in solace, he did need to be involved, did need to speak to people. Especially now, as Twelve continued to rebuild, as they continued to pull themselves back together after a rebellion, after a war. It made him feel a part of the District again, after feeling removed from it for so long.

But it wasn't often that they just got to be them. That they got to sit here in the house, and were just Katniss and Peeta, rather than the Mockingjay and the damaged victor.

He sat up so that he was resting against the headboard, the sheets pooling around his waist. Scars decorated his body - across his waist, over his right shoulder, and his eyebrow still had a bare strip where the hair had seared away and just wouldn't grow back. But he'd stopped trying to hide the scars - ones he'd earned when going in after Katniss in the City Circle as fire raged and bombs fell - in the hopes that it would encourage Katniss to do the same. It was slow going; mostly, she still preferred to cover her body head to toe, though it mattered little to him - he saw nothing but her. Occasionally though, like today, she relaxed a little, and her guard came down.

Those were the days he thought that maybe, just maybe, they were beginning to really heal. That things could be good again. That always was a promise they could finally keep.

Moving out of the bathroom, Katniss crossed the room and curled herself into a plush, wide-backed chair by the window. She glanced outside, at the snow that continued to fall steadily, constantly; it covered the street like a white blanket. "It really is coming down hard. I don't think I've seen it this bad in years."

Peeta followed her gaze, worry furrowing his brow. "Maybe I should call Haymitch, make sure he's okay. Check that he's got enough food."

Katniss nodded absently. "Probably a good idea."

Throwing back the quilt, he reached for the sweatpants he'd discarded on the floor the night before, tugged them on up over his hips. "You want me to bring anything back up? Tea?"

"Tea would be nice," she smiled.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few. I'll tell Haymitch you miss him."

"Ha!"

Grinning to himself, Peeta jogged down the stairs and into the kitchen, filled the teapot with water from the sink before placing it on the stove to boil. He reminded himself to ask Effie the next time he spoke to her about having another phone installed upstairs, especially now that they were both living here, and moved through to the living room, snatching the phone from its cradle. Haymitch was speed dial one, though he knew he'd never tell him that. He'd just roll his eyes, tell him to quit being so damn sentimental.

It rang and rang, the monotonous tone echoing in Peeta's ears, and he was just about to hang up when it connected.

"What?"

"Hello to you too, Haymitch."

"Whaddya want, kid? Sleeping here."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that you had enough food. At this stage, it looks like we might be stuck inside for a few more days."

"I got my liquids, and I got some package shit that Effie sent with the last train. I'll survive."

Peeta crossed to the window, parted the curtain slightly so he could look across the street to Haymitch's. It was dark, the drapes closed tightly to the weather outside. "You sure? I baked some bread yesterday, I could come over-"

"Kid, I told you I'm fine. Just stay put. Don't need you getting frozen solid in the middle of the street."

Peeta nodded. "Alright then. I guess we'll see you when it lets up."

"We?"

"Katniss and I, of course. Who else?"

Haymitch didn't say anything - he was silent, except for the sound of his laboured breathing down the phone. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reverent. Almost broken. "Peeta, you remember that Katniss…"

He trailed off, and Peeta tucked his hand in the pocket of his sweats. "Remember that Katniss what?"

The sound of scratching filtered through the phone line until the old mentor sighed. "Nevermind. But...maybe you should bring some bread over. Might be a good idea for you to get out of the house for a bit. We both know being cooped up inside isn't the best for you."

Peeta laughed. "I knew you were lonely!"

"Yeah, I'm lonely. Something like that." Haymitch coughed. "So, uh come over. I'll be here."

"I'll be there soon."

"Good." The dialtone beeped in his ear, and he moved back to the side table, dropped the phone back in its cradle.

"Is he alright?"

Peeta turned, found Katniss curled up, much like she had been upstairs, in the chair by the window.

"I think he's lonely. Tried to tell me at first he was fine, but then suddenly changed his mind. I'm going to take some bread over to him. You want to come?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll stay here."

"Okay."

He took his time, taking the water off the boil and making Katniss a tea, wrapping the bread up in wax paper, adding some pastries he'd also made the day before. He wrapped himself up in layer upon layer of outer gear and by the time he was done, he felt like a giant marshmallow.

"I'll be back soon," Peeta told Katniss, placing her tea on the coffee table and leaning down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love you."

Her cheeks flushed. "I love you too," she said quietly.

He smiled widely - he still wasn't used to her saying those words, words he'd never thought he'd hear fall from her lips, and directed at him no less - and opened the front door, inhaled sharply at the cold that practically slapped him in the face.

"Peeta?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Katniss, at the way the small smile played across her lips. "Always," she mouthed, and he nodded.

He closed the door behind him and headed across the street, part of him already knowing that when he got back, the tea would be cold and untouched.