01.
His hands, armed with the only weapon that looked right clenched in his grasp, moved with such precision, such grace that I wondered how it were possible. His handsome face set with a look of what can only be described as determination, made me wonder why I denied what I felt for him for so long.
Confusion, anger, and pain were the first reasons that came to mind. In a time of such chaos and instability, how could I have responded in any other way? Just thinking about the rebellion tightened my muscles and a strained sigh slipped past my lips.
Blue eyes looked up at me through a fringe of golden lashes as Peeta's pen froze where it was, carefully sketching my left eye. The concentrated look was replaced with first curiosity, and then concern.
"Everything okay?" he asked quietly, and those two words eased the tension from my body almost instantly.
"Yeah, just pesky, wandering thoughts," I gave my shoulders a slight shrug, and he smiled warmly at me, before setting down his pen entirely and shoving away from my kitchen table. His footsteps were nearly silent as he moved toward me, and I found myself anticipating the moment when his hands finally found mine. He guided me from the couch I was seated on, pulling me into his strong embrace.
It's been a tough transition back to normalcy after everything we had been through, but these arms were often to thank for keeping me together. The early morning nightmares are fended off only by the sound of his voice, soft and comforting in my ear while he grips me tighter. Just like now, the only thoughts left in my mind are how lucky I am to have him here with me.
Peeta holds fast for not nearly long enough, only to pull back just enough that he's able to plant a loving, warm kiss on my waiting lips. I can't help but twist my fingers into his blonde locks, bringing him impossibly closer to me while I breathe him in. When we finally move apart, we're both a bit short of breath, and I get lost in the pools of his eyes. He gives me a devastating smile, kisses me once more, and releases me altogether.
The air around me suddenly feels infinitely colder against my flushed skin, my head swims and I curse his control while he sits back at the table in front of his drawing and sinks back into his former concentration.
I decide to make myself useful and go to the woods, to clear my head and try to practice some of the self control that seems to come so easily to Peeta. Focusing hard on my surroundings, treading silently through the foliage, I become more level-headed and feel like the old Katniss. The one who didn't swoon over a certain blonde haired boy with a knack for baking. Everything from the sound of the singing Mockingjays, to the smell of my father's leather hunting jacket, brings me back to solid ground.
I must have been gone a long time, lost in my own private world, because I'm suddenly brought to attention by my name being called somewhere far off. I recognize Haymitch's voice immediately, and wonder with a small tremor why it is that he's the one calling out to me, instead of Peeta. I put my game bag, filled with the two wild turkey's and a large rabbit, over my shoulder and sprinted at a steady pace until I saw Haymitch's ragged face come into view.
When he see's me, a wide, almost sincere grin spread across his face. It resembles something closer to a grimace than a smile, which does absolutely nothing for the nervous pit growing in my stomach. Did something happen? Was Peeta hurt, and if so, why was Haymitch smirking like a fool at me?
It took me a moment to realize what I was thinking. The only thing that could have hurt Peeta was the oven, while he was making dinner for the two of us, or Buttercup taking a swipe at him. The ugly old cat that once belonged to my sister was in even poorer health than usual, and still had a hard time trusting anyone but me. But there was no war going on, no peacekeepers that could punish him, no Capitol that could take him away from me again.
In fact, Haymitch's appearance should have shocked me for other reason's entirely. I hadn't seen him in months, and just a few days ago I had been wondering aloud with Peeta if the old kook was even still alive. Whatever his reason for showing up, I decided that I missed him, and when I finally reached my mentor and friend, I threw my arms around him and laughed as he spun me once. With my feet back on the ground, I looked at him curiously.
"Still going, then?" I asked humorously, and he shrugged.
"Guess so. I stopped by for some womanly advice, but the boy told me you were out hunting," he explained, and I smiled at his warm reference to Peeta. But then something struck me as odd, and I had to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Womanly advice? What for? And what makes you think I have any to offer in the first place?"
Haymitch just laughs and starts to elaborate as we head back to the house. He informs me that he has a date, and I trip over my own feet as I'm overcome with shock. As it turns out, Haymitch met his match in a petite redhead with a pension for drink, and a firecracker attitude. His expression as he explains her to me warms my frosted cheeks, and I can't help but feel overcome with happiness for my friend. He's been so lonesome since, I imagine, the time he was reaped for his games. Always in pain, afraid to let people in because of the looming threat of what the Capitol would do to those he loved, just as they had to his family.
It was a huge relief to know that at least someone was breaking through his walls.
When we made it back to my home in Victor's Village, Peeta had finished the portrait of me and hung it on a wall that housed a dozen others, all depicting me with different expressions and making me look much more beautiful than I was. That was one of many gifts Peeta had; making me seem lovely, desirable even.
Now, he stood with his back to us, kneading dough on the counter-top. I was so distracted by watching the muscles of his back ripple through his t-shirt, his arms flexing as he turned it over and over in his skilled hands, that it startled me visibly when Haymitch cleared his throat. He laughed, shaking his head. I scowled in return, gesturing him to follow me up the stairs. Taking one last glance at Peeta, I caught him snickering as well.
Fine, I thought. Let them laugh at me, it's not like it has never happened before. Sitting in the study, Haymitch rattles off question after question, which I answer the best I can. He asks if I can cut his hair, and I agree hesitantly. I've been trimming my own hair and now Peeta's since my mother hasn't been around, but Haymitch's is considerably more haggard than either of ours.
I did my best though, after instructing him to the shower, and it turned out better than I had expected. He was still Haymitch, but a cleaner, more presentable version of himself. He invited Peeta and myself to the Capitol with him, as that was where he had met this woman, but I promptly refused before I could think too deeply about it.
Just the thought of the city raised the hairs on the back of my neck, and threatened to stir memories that I had no interest in thinking about. I was certain that Peeta would agree with me. Haymitch understood, kissed my forehead, and thanked me for my help before bidding me goodbye. I remained upstairs, sweeping up the mess of hair and disposing of it.
A huge yawn pushed it's way out of me, and I considered taking a nap, but decided I'd rather wait until Peeta could join me. Peeta. The thought of him had my feet moving toward the stairs before I could really tell them too, and it was almost as though he had the same thought because as soon as I reached the final step, he was there, eyes trained on my face.
Sometimes when Peeta looks at me, I get so lost and end up thinking that it's entirely possible we're the last two people on Earth. His gaze was so warm, so intense, that it made my stomach twist and my thoughts turn foggy, until all I could make out were those bright, beautiful orbs.
"You look tired," he said to me, eyes flickering to what I imagine were the dark circles under my eyes. He took my hand and guided me into the safety of his arms once again. It felt like home used to feel, before my family was torn apart, before my childhood house was destroyed by flame, before my world was turned upside down.
"I am pretty exhausted," I admit, and he brings his hand to my face, thumb caressing my cheek. When his lips meet mine, it's a soft kiss that makes me light-headed. Slowly, he kisses my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, and finally finds my lips again. By this time, I return the kiss hungrily, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer.
When his hands slip into my hair, Peeta dips my head back, kissing a line down my neck. By this time, I can feel my skin growing warm and flush with excitement. I relish the sensation of his incredibly gentle touch, until another surprise yawn slips out, and I curse silently.
Of course, Peeta notices and stops his barrage of kisses, but continues to hold me close to him. He studies my expression for a long moment, before smiling wide at me and breaking our silence.
"Wanna take a nap, then?" he asks, and it sounds innocent enough. The mischievous look in his eyes suggests differently, and I nod, letting out an unusually girly giggle. This makes his smile grow even more.
When we reach our bed, and we're laying there, covering each other in heated kisses and caresses, I struggle to think of a time that I've ever been happier than I am now.
But like usual, my thoughts become more and more erratic until there's nothing but Peeta, and his hands, and his lips, and of course, those beautiful baby blues.
Reviews are always appreciated.
Thank you for reading, and although I usually take forever to update,
I think I'll be a little more consistent now.
Or, at least I'll try to be.