Normally the alarm jolted him out of sleep, the sky outside still dark as his bleary eyes would flicker open. He'd stare bitterly at the clock, curse his baker's hours, then drag himself out of bed and into the shower to wake himself up.
Today, though, was different. This morning, he'd woken with the shifting of a body against his, warm skin pressed against warm skin, long trails of black hair curled over his arm. This morning, he'd woken up to something good.
He'd finally woken up next to Katniss Everdeen.
They'd been dating for 8 months, since he'd finally convinced her not to let the past win, and to take a chance on them, but they'd still never spent a full night together. Their contrasting schedules - Katniss with classes and tending bar downtown, Peeta's early hours at his parents bakery - made their time together limited. But somehow, he mused, glancing at the sleeping form of his girlfriend curled up beside him, they'd finally ended up here. In his bed. Overnight.
Peeta Mellark was fairly certain it was number one on his list of favourite mornings. Until her body suddenly jerked and he copped an elbow to the cheek.
"Shit!" he hissed, his hand reaching up to his face as Katniss tumbled awkwardly out of bed, her leg getting tangled in the sheet.
"Dammit dammit dammit," her heard her muttering, as she blindly ran her hands across the bed.
"Katniss, what's going on?" Peeta sat up, rubbed at his cheek a little more before he ran a hand through his hair. "What are you doing?"
"I'm late," she hissed quietly.
"Why are you whispering? There's no one else here."
He could see her shake her head, even in the dim light. "I'm late," she repeated, though this time it was louder. Her fingertips gripped the hem of the deep green t-shirt she wore. "My first class is at eight, and I still have to get home, shower, pick up my textbook from Jo and get to class in time."
"You've got plenty of time," he told her, then looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was only 5.30am-
5.30am. Shit. He'd slept through his alarm.
Shoving the covers off, he leapt from the bed, scrubbed his hands across his face. "Okay. Okay. I'm late too. Shit, sorry, I should have been up half an hour ago. I could have woken you up, and I didn't."
"Forget it," she muttered, continuing to stumble around, looking for the rest of her clothes. "I'll just go straight to Jo's. I won't make it if I drive home first. I'll probably reek, but I'll make it. "
The idea was quick, and so simple and easy - he opened his mouth, before closing it again. He knew what he wanted to suggest, what he wanted to say; he just didn't know how she'd react. But he needed to at least offer, to try it.
"You can shower here, if you want."
He saw her head snap up in the dim early morning light, before it shook from side to side emphatically. "No, no, it's okay. I know you need one before you go to work."
Peeta swallowed heavily. Just do it, Mellark. Just suggest it. Just ask.
"What if we, uh, showered together? Save time?"
He knew, if the room was filled with light and he could see her face, her cheeks would be pale, and her hands would be clenched together nervously.
Showering together, he knew, was an intimacy that she'd avoided, something that she'd put barriers around every time he'd tentatively suggested it. She still didn't like the lights on when they slept together, still rarely let him see her before she slid under the covers during the day; the possibility of sharing their time in the shower had always been met with awkward silence.
He just wished she knew she didn't have to hide, wished she listened every time he told her how beautiful she was.
"I don't want-"
"Katniss." He crossed to her, rested his hands on her shoulders. "I just want to help, okay?"
He could practically feel her inner argument, the voices in her head battling with the decision of whether to say yes or no. But he was thankful - if not a little surprised - when she slowly, eventually, nodded her head. When she took a deep breath, then let it out again in a way that told him how much of a step this was for her. For them. "Okay," she whispered. "To save time."
He grabbed an extra towel from the cupboard, let her go in first, to give her a moment alone. She was still clothed in the t-shirt when he walked in, the water streaming in the shower stall, steam beginning to rise and fog up the mirror.
"Everything alright?"
She didn't look at him, simply nodded quickly as she stripped off the shirt in one fell swoop and stepped under the stream, the water immediately engulfing her. Her back was to him - olive skin, gentle curves, a curtain of ebony hair. But he knew her arms would be folded across her chest, her hands splayed to cover as much of her as she could.
He needed to show her that none of that mattered to him.
Peeta slipped out of his underwear, kicking them off to the side and stepping in beside her, shutting the door behind them. He took a moment to wet his hair under the stream, to push the unruly bed head waves back off his forehead, before moving closer to her.
"Katniss," he murmured, running his hands down her arms, drawing her back against him. Her body felt as tightly strung as he'd ever felt it. "You know you don't have to hide them from me."
"I know," she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the pounding of the water. "I just…"
"You're used to it."
"Yeah."
He turned her around gently, then shifted them both until the hot water was streaming onto her back, and she had nowhere to look but up at him. He traced a finger across her collarbone, down the first scar that snaked down from her neck and ended just at the slope of her breast, gently nudging her hand aside. "You know they make you even more beautiful, right?"
She glanced away, droplets of water clinging to her lashes. "No they don't," she murmured.
"They do, I promise." He dipped his head, pressed his lips first to that scar, followed by the patch that curved over her shoulder, then the one that traveled down her left bicep like the stem on a flower. "They tell me you're strong, and courageous, and willing to do what it takes. They tell me you would do anything for those you love. They tell me you're amazing."
"Stop it," she whispered, her voice catching. "It's not true."
It was, and he knew nothing she would ever say would convince him otherwise.
They'd known each other since they were 14, had shared lingering glances with each other all through the final two years of high school. They'd danced around each other, both cautious and shy with all the nervousness a teenager possessed around the object of their affection. He'd been close, so close, to taking a chance and asking her to prom - until a fire had set her home alight in the middle of the night, Katniss risking her own life to save that of her sister. Both had survived, but for Katniss the burns and scars that marred her body as a result was forever a reminder of the destruction of her family home, and that every memento she had had of her father was gone. She'd completed the rest of school from home and he hadn't seen her again until she'd walked into the bakery a year ago.
He'd refused to let the chance go by again, and they'd slowly but surely rebuilt what had tentatively begun to bud during their years at District Twelve High.
"I've never said anything more true," Peeta promised Katniss, wrapping his arm around her and brushing his hand lightly just under her shoulder blades - over the patch of skin that he knew was in the shape of a slanted rectangle, and was shades lighter than the skin that surrounded it.
He cupped her cheek with his other hand, dipped his head to press his mouth to hers. It was soft and gentle, but nothing more. Just a simple gesture to assure her, to assuage her worries, her nerves.
Her hands lifted from between their bodies and clutched at his biceps, gripping them tightly. She pressed her torso against his, so closely he thought he could feel her heartbeat thudding against his chest.
"Peeta," she sighed. "Why are you so good to me?"
He closed his eyes, focused on the water that streamed down upon them, said the words he'd held onto in secret for months. "Because I love you, Katniss. All of you. And I'm certain I always will." He saw the shock, the surprise in her eyes, her fingers clenching and releasing against the sinewy muscles he'd honed from lugging bags of flour for as long as he could remember.
"You know I never expected this. I never thought we would happen," Katniss finally murmured.
"Neither did I," Peeta said honestly.
She took a deep breath, her chest expanding against his. "Peeta, I…" Then she shook her head, and was reaching up again, rising up on her toes, her arms lifting to band around his neck, her mouth pressing against his until his lips parted and he drank her in.
At first it was gentle, fluid, hands gliding tentatively over skin, exploration that was both new and old all rolled into one. Then, almost as though a switch had been flicked, a button had been pressed, it suddenly changed.
Their mouths tangled together hotly, lips and teeth and tongues eager to devour, to brand the other as theirs. Peeta's hands cupped her breasts, his fingertips drawing against the hardened peaks, while hers roamed across his back, down over the curve of his hips, kneading the flesh and drawing him closer to her.
Both groaned at the touch of heated flesh against heated flesh, and his need to be inside her was insatiable.
He nudged her thighs apart with his knee, his hand reaching down to cup her, teasing her with his fingers until her hips were thrusting against him and she was whimpering, little murmurs that started at the back of her throat and ended on his name being gasped against his lips.
"Peeta, please," she begged, so quietly he could barely hear her.
He nodded, slowly slid one finger inside her, then another, his rhythm steady and smooth, in the way he knew she liked it best. His own body was screaming for release, the length of him aching and hard against her thigh - but this wasn't about him. It was about her.
Just her.
He continued to pump his fingers inside of her, curling them just so, watched her silvery-grey eyes stare back at him, heated and molten. His hand splayed across the small of her back, anchoring her to him, changing the angle of his touch until her eyes closed and her fingernails dug into his skin, her sighs growing louder and more insistent with every movement.
Peeta felt her begin to tighten and pulse around him, her body tensing, her face flushed with the water and the heat they were generating all on their own. And he brought his mouth back to hers, devoured her moan as she shuddered against him, as she came, as she broke apart.
Then she was boneless, limp, her body slumped against his, her breathing ragged against his arm. And Peeta knew he couldn't let her leave, not now, not today. Not when he had her here. Not when he wanted to spend all day showing her how much he loved every inch of her.
"Let's just stay here today," he murmured in her ear, his hand reaching around her to turn the tepid water off. "Let's play hooky."
"We can't do that."
Peeta smoothed a hand down the length of her wet hair, smiled. "We can. I haven't had a sick day in years and I bet you haven't either."
She shook her head slowly. "I never even skipped school."
"There you go - there's a first time for everything, right? Let's stay here today. Just you and me." He tried not to sound too hopeful, too eager, didn't want to scare her off. But he wanted her to say yes, so bad. So, so bad.
She lifted her head then, and he could see she was chewing on her lower lip as she processed his suggestion. It was another moment longer before a small smile finally tugged on the corner of her mouth.
And she nodded.
With thanks to an anon who sent me a prompt a couple of weeks ago on tumblr that inspired this. Anon, if you're reading, I hope you like. :)