Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

Home

Part I: In the Cave

Katniss's POV

It is dark, and damp, and cold in the cave – our cave hidden behind a mesh of rocks, sticks and leaves. Water leaks in through the small hole left open, serving as our only exit and entrance at the base of the camouflage wall I put together. I shiver through the darkness, though I do not know why. The sleeping bag alone keeps in more than enough heat for one person, but with two – myself and Peeta – it makes it almost warm enough; comfortable enough to make it seem like we are back at home, asleep in our own beds. Almost.

Peeta's arms pull me tighter into him, and I nuzzle my head against his shoulder as he runs a hand over my hair asking softly. "Are you cold?"

"No," I tell him after a moment. "I'm fine," I slide my legs closer to his, and ball up a small handful of his shirt as he winds his feet with mine. "Peeta," I call out softly as I close my eyes and scoot my hips and stomach against his, turning my head ever so slightly until our cheeks touch.

"Yes?" he asks me as he slowly runs his hand in a small vertical line along my back.

"What?" I ask as I force myself to open my eyes and look into his.

"Peeta," he tells me as he brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead, and I knit my eyebrows together curiously. "You said my name."

"Oh," I say softly as I pull my gaze away from his and look down at his chest. "I guess I," I begin as I run my fingers lightly over his shirt, never meeting my eyes with his. "I guess I just wanted to hear your name."

"Katniss," he whispers softly, pulling my eyes up to meet him with his voice alone.

"Yes?" I ask him, and find my hand has made a mind of its own and is caressing itself up his chest, and over his collarbone until it finds itself comfortably resting, cupped, against his exposed neck.

"I just wanted to hear your name," he whispers, almost inaudibly as he slowly leans his forehead against mine, where he rests it for a while and keeps my head cupped in his hand. I trail my eyes along every curve, every inch of his face, drinking everything in as I reach my hand and trace my fingertips over his cheeks, chin, nose, temples, lips – everything – until finally pulling my hand away and resting it against his chest. Closing my eyes I lay there in his arms, our legs intertwined as I think to myself what all of this means as he pulls his hand – hidden away beneath the sleeping bag – from my back and cups my hand and his, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

I inhale a deep breath through my nostrils and hold it in until my lungs scream for fresh oxygen and wonder. "Peeta – the boy with the bread – is holding me, so easily and so comfortably. And I am letting him. Why am I letting him? Because we need to own the whole star-crossed-lovers number? To stay alive? To get sponsors?" I think, softly sucking my lower lip into my mouth and biting it gently. "Can that really be all that this is? Peeta, the boy who I have thought about everyday of my life since I was twelve-years-old… Why did it have to be his name to get drawn during The Reaping? Why? Why!

"He is literally the only reason I – Mom and Prim – are still alive. If it hadn't been for him we would have starved, and now, here I am, laying in a cave with him so close, acting as if there is no danger – none at all – waiting for us just outside the cave…"

His lips pressing against mine pull me from my thoughts. I open my eyes as he pulls his lips from mine, watching, waiting, seeing how I will react. Without words, with only a look, I lace my fingers with his and bring our entwined hands up so they rest between our hearts, and he slowly leans his lips back into mine and kisses me. His lips are warm and soft, full as they massage against mine. I have never been kissed before, but I can't imagine it ever feeling any better than it does now.

I lean my head into his as he pulls his lips from mine, and reluctantly rest my head back against his shoulder and look over at him with longing in my heart. "What is it?" he asks with concern plaguing his expression as he runs the blades of his fingers from the top of my hairline and down the length of my face to my jaw. I hadn't noticed, but at his words I blink and feel a warm tear run down the side of my face and notice other tears – not yet fallen – clouding my vision.

"Nothing, it's just-" I hesitate.

He brings his lips to my forehead and says, "Tell me."

"When you were kissing me, it was…" I breathe, closing my eyes and realizing that what I am saying is not for the viewers watching, but for Peeta and Peeta alone. "It was the best feeling that I have ever felt, and I couldn't… I couldn't imagine it being the last time, because it can't be… it just can't…" I trail, being unable to express myself in words any further, and being jealous that Peeta can speak so freely – his ability to be able to say one word, one sentence and be able to express every emotion he is feeling – it is a gift. It is rare, and I am envious. I can take down a small bird in flight with one arrow – easy. But be able to express how I am feeling? Now that is difficult…

"If it is," he whispers as he cups my chin in his hand, and I open my eyes to look up at him – tears still clouding my vision. "Then let's not waste another second…"

I am unable to say anything else as he closes the distance between our lips.

TBC