Hey guys, thanks so much for the follows and to m1129 for taking the time out of your day to read and write me an encouraging review. Much appreciated! Here is chapter two. Hope it's to your liking. Had trouble uploading it yesterday evening, sorry about the wait.

Per usual, I don't own The Hunger Games or The Amazing Race, still pretty bummed about that. -WNW

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On the Nose
"So you had her alone in an elevator and she thanks you for not letting her starve, and finally clarifies that no, she does not hate you, and you just... hit the floor button?" Delly's voice is the epitome of exasperation as she helps me decide what to put in my luggage. I've got to carry one bag with me the whole way through the trip. That bag would be my lifeline. I trust her help with packing it a lot more than my brother, her husband. Rye lay sprawled across my bed, thumbing through one of my old art history text books. His mystified look was not encouraging.

"I know Dell," I answer. "I'm an idiot."

"Haven't you ever heard "Love in an Elevator" man? Grow a pair," Rye interjects shutting the book and tossing it aside.

"I'm not so certain I should base my life decisions off of Aerosmith lyrics Rye," I remark dryly, "I don't know, but, hey Katniss, since we're trapped together in this steel box, I'd just like to mention I've been obsessed with you since we were kids. It's not creepy at all. Please hold still while I sexually assault you, comes off a bit rapey if you ask me."

"Well, when you put it that way," Rye replies. I turn to find his wife rifling through my underwear drawer.

"Oh, thank God," she says pulling a pair of black boxer briefs out of the folded piles. "So refreshing to not find tighty whities. You're such a boy scout I was worried."

"What the hell Delly," I yelp. "Get out of there, I'm twenty six, I can pack my own underwear."

"Yes, but will you pack the right ones," she asks, perusing through the piles as if going through her best friend/ brother-in-law's underwear was completely normal.

"Seeing as how I only buy the one kind, I like to think I only have the right ones," I say, pulling my boxer briefs out of her grip. She shrugs, scoops up three of the neat stacks and stuffs them into the bag as tightly as possible.
"Where do you keep your condoms? You have condoms right," she asks, crossing the room and ripping open my bedside table drawer.
"Rye, stop your wife," I groan.
"She was your friend first. Entirely your fault we're married actually," he waves absentmindedly at her as she digs through the drawer. She casts a glare at him over her shoulder. "And I wouldn't have it any other way babe," he adds. She goes back to it and he smirks at me.

"Peeta, I know you're a saint and all, but where are they," she demands.

"I won't need them," I argue.

"Better to have them and not need them, than to need them, but not have them," she says in a sing-song voice.

"Thanks Mom."

"Where?"

"Medicine cabinet," I answer, resigned. It is my fault she's here after all.

Rye snorts.

"They're in an entirely different room," he snickers. "Bet the box is full." Delly socks him in the arm as she strolls into my on suite bathroom.

When she comes back in, tossing the unopened box into my bag, Rye dissolves into a thankfully silent fit of laughter.

"It's by choice Rye."

He doesn't reply, because he's holding his sides trying desperately to breathe through his laughter.

"And at least cover those up. She'll kill me if she sees them." I tuck ten or so t-shirts over the box most likely to get me murdered and go back to packing.

"At this rate someone should put you out of your misery." Rye laughs.

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"And how long have you two known each other," Caesar Flickerman asks. He's a flamboyant looking little man, deeply tanned, a streak of blue in his overly styled hair, startlingly white teeth, and a mint green shirt, under his white top coat, tucked into what could only be described as Easter-peep-yellow pants. He is distracting to say the least. He is the host of Around the World. On top of being one plumed feather short of becoming a bird of paradise, Flickerman is naturally charming. He is somewhat making the initial interview for the show feel less like being grilled. Still, I smooth the slick palms of my hands over my denim clad knees. Peeta smiles easily at the question, well in his element. He drops his arm across the back of my chair almost conspiratorially and immediately takes me completely out of my element. He looks at me and his smile is genuine.

"To be honest we don't really know each other. I mean, we know of each other. But I'd say I've noticed her most of my life. She's hard to miss. Every one notices Katniss."

I force a smile, feeling the blood heat to hellish levels in my cheeks.

"He's ridiculous," I counter. "He's the noticeable one," Trying to give them something, so I don't look so wooden on camera, but it seems short. I can see Haymitch rolling his eyes in the shadows behind the camera. It was a lot for me though. He can't deny that. The blush has spread to the tips of my ears.

"She's just being humble," Peeta waves my compliment off, but there's a pink in his cheeks now.

"How would you say your current careers have prepared you for this kind of epic adventure," Flickerman poses.

Peeta laughs. It's an easy, relaxing sound.

"I'm a baker. Absolutely nothing has prepared me for this moment, unless those eating challenge rumors are true. In which case, I can carb load with the best of them." Flickerman laughs and Peeta carries on in that humorous self-depreciating way that's always made him likeable. "Katniss, here, is the adventurer. I figure I can try not to be dead weight and pay her in free baked goods for the rest of our lives when we win."

"When you win? Confident. I like it."

"Just thinking positive. This is her job in real life. She travels, climbs, runs, jumps, catches planes, boats, and trains. She speaks six different languages, probably not one from any of the countries you'll send us to, but yeah, I feel we've got a good shot."

Flickerman gives me a nod.

"Well...yeah...I do have that sort of advantage. Travel is just life to me , living out of a suitcase. Jetlag is pretty much the routine body function, like breathing. Even airline food is starting to taste good to me now, that's how often I fly. Still, I don't think Mandarin is going to help me out in the Bahamas, but that's where he comes in. He's got the face and the charm and he'll just smile and nod and joke our way through to the next destination. He's a people person and a people person is always handy to have around."

Haymitch shoots me a big thumbs up and Flickerman continues.

"Day one as a team and you're already answering each other's questions. Team work. Good start. I tell you what folks at home, it's going to be hard not to pick favorites, but lets get down to some serious questions before we let you go."

"Cut." Somebody shouts in aggravation. "Katniss is fidgeting."

Haymitch groans audibly, sliding his hands down his face, the image of exasperation.

"Last questions Sweetheart. Have a water, take five. Then fess up so we can all go home. Getting a likable personality out of you is like squeezing water from a rock. Why must you make my job so hard?" Haymitch growls directing me to the beverage cart.

"Somebody has to," I reply, taking a messy sip out of a bottle of water, nerves making it spill down my chin.

"You make me want a drink," he grumbles.

"You're a recovering alcoholic. You always want a drink," I shoot back.

"If you have to have any noticeable characteristics, blunt honesty is not my favorite," he snips.

"Beggars can't be choosers," I sing-song and stalk away, before we say "fightin' words" I stand quietly next to Peeta, shifting my weight uneasily from foot to foot. He flashes me a quick sympathetic smile and finishes looking at something on his phone before turning to me.

"Did you know there's about seven point three billion people on earth," he asks, stowing his phone in his back pocket.

"I thought it was six something," I answer, my brow furrowing at the odd subject.

"No, seven point three. And there's only about three hundred and nineteen million in the United States," he continued down the census record littered rabbit hole.

"Uuhhh...right, only."

"Do you know what that means?"

"You really wanted to audition for Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and that's your final answer?" I offered. He grins.

"No, smart ass. That means that even if everyone in America watches this. There will still be six billion, nine hundred and eighteen million people who never, ever see it, give or take a tiny country or two. America hardly counts anyway. The attention span in this country is hard wired to change every time one of the Kardashian's sneezes. One day, this mortifyingly personal interview will be forgotten, but if it's not, you'll have enough money from our winnings to get facial reconstructive surgery. Nip here, tuck there, new nose. Problem solved," he explains jovially.

"My nose is a problem?" I joke

"Only a little one. Now, let's get this over with Pinocchio," He winks and strolls back on set.

We sit back in our respective seats and wait to be cued.

"Did you know all that information off the top of your head?" I whisper at him out of the corner of my mouth.

"Of course not. I was googling it when you walked up," he whispers back. "Just remember. America's opinion is the least of your problems." he feigns his nose growing all of the sudden. I laugh and we're back on the air.

"So Katniss, your rough childhood..."

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After the interview is an even more daunting task, a meet and greet dinner with the other teams. I want to return to my apartment, lay face first on the couch, and imagine that I didn't just put my entire life's history out there for the world to see. Well, most of America to see, as Peeta informed me. Surprisingly, the hardest part was hearing Peeta rehash some of his violent memories. Even though he made it through, to sit on the stage, smiling, pristine, seemingly unmarred, I felt anger roil and sour my stomach, wondering how anyone could hurt someone so kind. Like he said, we knew of each other, but even though I didn't truly know him, the thought of him suffering made my blood boil.

As we enter the dining room of the tiny, but luxurious hotel that is hosting the studio's dinner, he leans down and whispers next to my ear.

"Well, I'd say we earned ourselves a drink. What are you having," he asks.

"We earned the whole bar, Mellark. Jack and coke, if you don't mind," I reply, smiling tiredly at him. He grins.

"I don't. Be right back."

He wanders away and for a moment I'm very happily alone in a room full of production crew, wait staff, and cast.

"So, did you spill all your secrets to the camera Everdeen or have you got a couple left over," a voice says suddenly, much too close to my ear and I whirl around.

"Finn! what the hell are you doing here," I gasp, feeling the bronze arms of Finnick Odair, professional surf boarder, encircle my waist in an overly friendly bear hug. I'd followed him for QUEST, covering his hunt for monster waves in California, Hawaii, and Australia two years ago, by far one of my best gigs. Finn was a likeable guy, too likeable, Adonis in the flesh, charm for days, and he knew it. It had been a fun trip once he realized there was no way in hell I was sleeping with him. He's now one of my few close friends.

"500,000 thousand dollars buys an awful lot of surf boards Katniss."

"Why didn't you tell me you were on the show," I ask.

" Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you just get in from Alaska, I can still smell plane on you," he jokes.

"But if you're here that means.."I started.

"That means we're getting fuckin' wasted tonight Brainless," a woman's voice crows over the crowd. Johanna Mason, was the loud, obnoxious, totally crude, running wide open, coconspirator behind Finn's brainchild, the Nature Nurtures Project. Somehow, likely at a drunken party, Jo and Finn had met, relayed their mutual love of all things outdoors and something incredible happened. The two loosest people I've ever met didn't fall into bed, they fell into business. They now run a philanthropist group that takes veterans, the depressed, the critically ill, school kids repressed by the big city , anyone who wants to breathe some fresh air for a change, out into nature. Trees and the sea, cure all, in their opinion.

"Tell me, who's soul did you sell to get you two nominated as hometown heroes," I say as Jo wraps an arm around my shoulder and plants a wet kiss on my cheek.

"Oh, that. It's easy. I don't let Jo talk to small children or easily scandalized old women. So far no one's died on our watch and so long as we can keep managing those things, everyone will keep thinking we're delightful, heroic even," he explains with a patented Odair wink. Lesser women would have been instant puddles. Jo and I are made of freakishly sturdier stuff though.

"You two are no fun, you know that," Finn tells us.

"We are, we're just a different kind of fun," Jo argued. "Speaking of fun, who's your partner. Got miles deep blue eyes on that one, wouldn't mind him being Finn's kind of fun."

"You mean, leggy, blonde, and vapid?" Finn interjected.

"I mean easy," Jo replied. "Did you call dibs or can I? That jawline just makes you want to nibble on it."

I could feel the heat of my ears suddenly bursting into flame.

"Nobody is calling dibs on Peeta," I attempt to set Jo straight, casting a look around the room for him. He's been gone awhile.

"Well, somebody might have to. Looks like he's getting a double serving of Finn's definition of fun right now."

On either side of Peeta, each with an expertly manicured hand placed lightly on his person, were two of the leggiest, blondest, most gorgeous women I'd ever seen in my life.

"Holy hell, my definition of fun on the nose," Finn rejoined. "Your boy looks overwhelmed between all that blonde. Let me go assist." Then he was off like a shot.

"So glad I never slept with him," Jo said smiling.

"Me too. It's like being in an exclusive club," I replied, watching one of the blondes detach from Peeta and wrap herself around Finn's arm.

"The Sisterhood of Finn hasn't been in these pants," Jo offered and I laughed.

"Bit longwinded, but funny."

"How about, Not Sluts," she tried again.

"Blunt and to the point, I like it, " I agree. "But I'm not sure you qualify under that title Jo."

"Shut up Brainless. Twenty bucks and a nibble at Peet's chin says Finn leaves with both blondes," she wagers, waggling her eyebrows at me.

"No bet and no nibbling on Peeta," I reply firmly.

"Finn's right. You are no fun," she tells me. Peeta and Finn, return with the blondes in tow. For a moment, they almost look like twins, however, on closer inspection the pair are equally glamorous, but not identical. Peeta hands me my drink and leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Get her off of me and you've got yourself a lifetime supply of cheesebuns Everdeen."

"Mmmm, my favorite," I whisper back.

"I know," he replies simply.

"Ladies, this is my good friend, Katniss Everdeen, extreme photographer for Quest Magazine, and my partner, Johanna Mason, Nature Nurtures," Finnick makes the introductions. "Kat, Jo, this is Glimmer and Cashmere Gates. They're make-up moguls that run the charity they inherited from their mother, Beauty for All." From the look on Jo's face, it took every bit of her extremely limited self control not to burst out laughing at their names. "Jo, this is Peeta Mellark, he owns Mellark's , the company, and runs Food on the Table, a charity food bank on wheels. Glimmer, here, is totally fascinated."

"Well, I'm very sorry Glimmer, but Haymitch insisted on talking to Peeta the minute I could find him. Can't keep him waiting. Peeta, shall we," I lie coolly and he instantly slips out of Glimmer's grip. She gives me a pointed glare that I return with a smile as Peeta loops an arm around my waist and I do my best not to stiffen. "Jo, Finn, catch you later," I call over my shoulder.

"You owe me Mellark, she's got my number now," I grit out, feeling Glimmer's poisonous glare on my back.

"Well, she was after mine, I was running out of ways to politely reject her."

"A 'Fuck off. I'm not going to sleep with you', works better than you think. Look how me and Finn turned out," I tell him and his noticeably arm relaxes a little around me.

"You didn't sleep with Odair when you covered him," he says half question, half statement, looking through the crowd for Haymitch.

"Of course not."

"He still seems touchy," He replies. "And you don't let people touch you," he adds.

"That's just Finn and I'm letting you touch me. You know, you do know a lot about me for someone who just knows of me," I return shortly. He grins.

"Yeah, but you're completely uncomfortable with this and I guess I do. Just paid attention is all. Like I said, you're noticeable." He gives me a warm smile and one of those unfathomable looks of his. "Try to relax. We're a team. You can trust me," he says and the look he gives me then is even warmer and unreadable.

"There's open seats at Haymitch's table," I interrupt the strangely charged moment and tug him over to my godfather and Effie.

"Hi boss, Effie," I greet sliding into the seat next to Haymitch. Peeta kisses the top of Effie's head and takes the seat next to me.

"Here to get the skinny on the competition, Sweetheart?" Haymitch asks, eyeing my drink darkly. I slide it discreetly sideways towards Peeta.

"Yes, you know I'm not the meet and greet type and Peeta is all polited out. Thought you could give us the run down from a distance."

"Glad to oblige." He says and turns his sharp eyes on the room. "You know Odair and Mason, of course. Your article inspired me to pick their town. The people did all the work, popular friends you've got Katniss. You've just met the glitter duo, they're running out of ideas and money, and much to their dismay the charity is the only part of their business thriving, especially since they aren't nearly as charitable as their late mother. That pair over there, is Beetee and Wiress, clean energy whizzes, friends trying to reduce our carbon foot print, so smart I can't understand a damn thing they say. The team sitting over by the window is Thresh and Rue Bantom, they run Green Thumbs Community Gardens. They're sister and brother. They travel around the country teaching people in destitute neighborhoods how to grow their own food. Good people. The two men talking to them are Vick Boggs and Chaff Brown, beloved police and fire chiefs from the same little town in Texas, tough, will fight fair."

"What about the redhead Finn keeps eyeing over Cashmere's shoulder and her partner?" I ask.

"Oh, caught that have you? That's Annie Crestia and her partner, they run Color Me Happy. It's a therapeutic art group."

"Really? I went to one of their exhibits last year. It was incredible," Peeta says.

"Nice as she is pretty too Slugger," Haymitch informs him.

"So am I the only person here that doesn't run a charity," I ask starting to feel pretty bad. Even the glittery bimbo sisters give back to the community, albeit reluctantly.
"No, see those four towards the door. The giant guy eyeballing everyone, that's Cato Hart, starting quarterback for Greenville University Rams, first round draft pick material for next year, and the ego to prove it. The little dark haired "friendly" looking thing next to him is his partner, Clove Danes, Olympic gymnast, coach says she'll take gold or die trying. Both extremely competitive and ruthless, they'll make Greenville proud. The guy in the suit that could buy all of us a new house is Marvel McKinney and his teammate Addie Fox. Marvel is the mastermind behind a new social media startup that I have no clue how to use and Fox is a highly successful musician on the east coast. All of them make their own money, keep their own money, and are here for more money. Feel better now," Haymitch asks.

"Sort of."

"Don't beat yourself up Katniss. You do a pretty incredible thing. You're showing people the world and I've read your articles. You feel like you're there. If it makes you feel better, maybe you could highlight each of the charities involved in the show, when you do your piece on it. Charities pay lots to get the word out there, a free plug in QUEST, would be a charity in itself," Peeta says.

"That's actually a really great idea Peeta, thanks," I tell him, because it is. The idea of helping people help more people with just a quick dash of my fingers over my keyboard is extremely uplifting.

"I get those from time to time," he replies with a wink and I freeze, feeling my face warm of its own volition, before taking an overly large sip of my drink. Jo is right, miles and miles of blue. Who'd have thought? Finnick Odair's wink bounces off my proverbial shields like a line drive straight at his ego, but sweet Peeta Mellark's wink makes my brain click into off mode for a few dangerous seconds. I'm definitely going to have to get a handle on that. Fortunately, my little moment of self-bewilderment goes unnoticed as the camera crew that will be following us arrives at the table to introduce themselves. Then someone is banging their fork on their stemware and suddenly Plutarch is standing.

"Now, that we've all met, dinner is coming right up. I just wanted to make a toast to this adventure we'll all be starting tomorrow. To all of you contestants I just want to wish you luck, may the odds be ever in your favor. Tomorrow the hard work starts, now eat, drink, and be merry."

Everybody toasts and drinks. Dinner comes and goes. I dance with Peeta and Finn who are taking turns actively avoiding the glitter sisters. Finn having decided they aren't his type of fun after all. The only real downside of the evening is my brief interlude with Cato Hart. Who decides he wants to dance right after Peeta gets cornered for "another quick question" by Flickerman and he won't take no for an answer. I get the feeling he doesn't hear it often.

"So you did that big article on surfer boy," he asks, steering me around the floor in a hold I consider a little too close for comfort.

"Mhmmm," I say instead of the tempting You can read?

"So you did him, now you can do me. I'm very interesting," he tells me, the double entendre in his words made even clearer by his leer.

"At Quest we like to leave football to Sports Illustrated," I grit out, trying to keep my temper, blatantly ignoring his meaning. "Have you met the Gates girls yet? Glimmer and Cashmere don't write, but you know I think they'll find you interesting."

I point the pair out, over my shoulder, and watch Cato's eyes light up in that predatory fashion I usually associate with large wild animals.

"See you around Everdeen, " He promises in a tone I find mildly threatening and releases me, moving off to where the grass is greener.

"What did that guy want," Peeta asks, appearing at my elbow, his eyes following Cato's retreating back.

"What most men want, I recommended him to some people throwing theirs at people. Have the nasty feeling he'll be back though."

"Well, with that in mind would you like to share a cab. We'll be the team not hung over tomorrow, " he offers.

"Let's go," I agree quickly. Effie reminds us what time we're supposed to be in the plaza tomorrow before we go.

Finn is dancing with Annie when we pass the floor again.

"They look nice together," I say.

"Yeah, that's why I introduced them," Peeta answers, holding the door to the lobby for me.

"Just full of good ideas aren't you," I tell him.

"Well, it was a very good night for me," he replies. His hand finds the small of my back gently as he calls for a cab and I don't stiffen, but I'm beginning to think Jo's nickname for me is spot on, because for the second time in less than three hours, something Peeta has done has short circuited my brain.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow, " I tell her when we reach Katniss's brownstone and stop myself from leaning across her to open the cab's door. It's tempting to use the excuse to get closer to her, but after Finn, Cato, and whenever I could get the nerve, myself, I think she might have reached her quota for physical contact.

"I'll be there, " she promises. "Gotta win the money to fix this nose now don't I?"
I make the sound of Pinocchio's nose growing before she laughs and closes the door. I let my head fall back on the seat and sigh.

"Smooth," the cabbie laughs.

"I'm a good tipper buddy, don't hurt yourself," I tell him with my eyes closed.

That's it for chapter two folks. Like I said, it's slow moving, but I like to think Peeta and Katniss have some subtle chemistry. Promise to amp it up a little next chapter. The game officially starts next upload, so there will at the very least be that kind of action. I like reviews, they make me all warm and fuzzy inside. I'm a sucker for positive reinforcement. Reinforce me people. Thanks for reading. -WhiskeyNoWater