A/N: I know it's been forever. I could give you a million excuses, but I know you really just want to get to the chapter. I think you'll like it. ;) Longer AN at the bottom...see you there.

Thanks to You May Call Me Goddess-Bitch Goddess for being my beta!

Suzanne Collins owns The Hunger Games, not me. :'(


"So, I finally convinced him, Prim," I tell the trees, as I sit at the pond's edge basking in the warmth of the sun. "Peeta's decided to paint the bakery orange. It's a really pretty orange, actually. And the trim is going to be a light green. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear they look great together." I sit forward and pull off my hunting jacket, and then lean back against the tree. We're in the middle of April now and the last few days have gotten considerably warmer. It's actually starting to look and feel like spring. "They've been working on it for a month now, and they started painting the outside yesterday. Peeta's been working on the inside, getting everything organized." I pause for a moment, thinking of Peeta and the amount of time we've been spending together.

Two months ago, I would have shied away from spending any more time with Peeta than I already did. I would have cringed to think that we'd be speaking to each other so much and sharing so much more of ourselves then ever before. And now…well, now there are times where I actually miss Peeta. When I wake up in the middle of the night and I can't get back to sleep, I find myself wishing he were there to talk to. He's started coming by to eat breakfast with me nearly every morning, and when he's not there before I leave to hunt I'm usually pretty gloomy when I head out. I enjoy our time together so much that it frustrates me when I find myself craving his company, because I don't want to be so dependent on someone else.

"I should probably get back," I say aloud and stand up. I throw my game bag and jacket over one shoulder and my bow and quiver over the other. "I'm planting round two in the garden today. It rained for three days straight last week. I was afraid my first group was going to drown, but they persevered and now they're looking better than ever. Although, weeds have started popping up, so I have to keep pulling them. I wish you could be here to eat some of the first fruits of my labor. But don't worry; I'll keep you up to date on how well they turn out." I stop talking again the moment I leave the woods.

This morning was one of the days Peeta didn't stop by for breakfast, so I head toward the bakery, expecting him to be hard at work. A bell rings when I step through the door, alerting me to its new addition since yesterday. I walk past the new counter top with an empty glass display case and a large chalkboard resting against the wall just waiting to be written on and hung up. I don't see Peeta back in the kitchen, so I head up the stairs to his large studio space.

It's a beautiful room with so much natural light from the extra windows Peeta made Thom add. He's got a few of them open, letting in the fresh spring air. It's been empty up until now, and I gasp when I see that he's moved his easel and all of his painting supplies here. In the front corner opposite the stairs are a couple of large comfy looking chairs with a small round table in between them. There's a big desk in one of the back corners of the building already covered in ledgers and papers concerning supply orders and the cost of running a business. Peeta's sitting on a stool in the middle of the room behind a canvas.

"Hey," he says, peeking around his work.

"Hey," I say back to him, and plop down in one of the armchairs. I was right; they're comfy.

"Sorry I didn't stay for breakfast this morning. I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep, so I came here after I finished baking. Did you find the muffins I left?"

"Yeah, thanks," I say, but I don't tell him how I ate three of them before leaving the house. "When did you move all this in here?" I ask gesturing to the large area.

"Yesterday afternoon. My bedroom is a lot less cluttered with all of this here now," he says pointing to the corner opposite his desk. I walk over and look at the big table covered in sketches, and a tall cabinet next to it. There are also two wooden drying racks, one vertical and the other horizontal, holding canvases of various sizes. I don't look at the pictures long because many of them depict our time in the Games.

I turn away from the depressing images, and immediately take a punch in the gut at the image before me. It's a picture of what I'm assuming is Prim and me laughing together. I've got a basket of apples in my arms and Prim's got one in her hand with a bite taken out of it. Amazingly, Peeta's actually managed to make us both look innocent even though our features are so dissimilar.

"I'm sorry," Peeta says upon seeing my pained expression. "I think this was a memory from before the Games. I had to preserve it somehow."

"It's fine," I whisper, staring at her face still. "You're too good, Peeta. She looks so real."

He takes it down suddenly just as my hand begins to reach out to her. He slides it onto one of the racks, out of sight. I shake myself out of a daze. I can feel Peeta staring at me, waiting for me to freak out. I'm actually waiting for it too, but that overwhelming feeling of loss doesn't pull me under the same way it used to. I still miss her like crazy, but it's nice to see her like that, to see a smile on her face and a light in her eyes.

"Thank you, for that," I say, meeting Peeta's worried eyes. "I have a hard time pulling up pleasant memories. It's nice to have one back that I thought I'd lost." I walk back over to the stairs to grab my stuff. "I need to go check on my plants. I'll see you later," I tell him before heading down the stairs. It wasn't completely destructive seeing Prim looking so perfect, but I definitely had as much as I can handle for the moment.

I don't understand how Peeta can bear to see their faces everyday. He paints or sketches pictures of all of them. His family, Rue, and Mags, Thresh, and Portia. It's horror enough to see them any time I close my eyes, I don't want them staring back at me when I open them.

I walk home quickly, deposit my stuff inside, and go out the back door to tend to my garden. I pull weeds and loosen up the soil to get it ready for my other seedlings.

"When can I expect to be forced to eat some of this rabbit food?" Haymitch asks, walking over to the plants I've just finished watering.

"I honestly don't know. Maybe another month? Probably more for some of the others," I tell him, and make a note to ask Greasy Sae when I should be expecting to harvest my plants.

"Hazelle assumed you wouldn't need the reminder, but I know you better," he states cryptically.

"Reminder about what?"

"Do you know what the date is, sweetheart?"

"Um, sometime in April?"

"Keep thinking," he says on a chuckle and shakes his head before turning to walk away. And then it hits me; April fifteenth.

"Wait! It's his birthday?" I manage to squeak out.

"Now you got it," he calls out over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner of the house next door.

I stand there momentarily stunned. I'm actually not surprised that I've forgotten Peeta's birthday; it's pretty typical of me. But now that I know, I have to do something. I move through the backyard, slowly putting away my tools and watering can. Back inside, I walk around the living room hoping that something will catch my eye and give me an idea. But because I feel so awful for not remembering the significance of today's date, I want whatever I do for Peeta to be special. I don't want to just get him something expected like painting supplies, and I don't have the time to send for anything or to make something…and then inspiration strikes as I walk through the kitchen trying to get clues. There's a loaf of bread leftover from our dinner the night before, and I know I have plenty of eggs, milk, and butter. I get a sinking feeling though when I think about the maple syrup that I may not be able to procure. I quickly leave the house hoping that Peeta is still working at the bakery.

"Katniss!" Hazelle says in greeting. "How are you today?" She steps aside and ushers me in, but I hesitate on the porch.

"Is Peeta here?" I ask, my eyes shifting from side to side and looking frantically at the stairs.

"No. He hasn't made his way back from the bakery yet." She responds and I relax slightly. "Most days he's out until after dinner."

"Oh," I say, stepping inside and thinking again about the large amount of time Peeta spends at my house. "Well, good. Anyway, I was coming to see if you guys have any powdered sugar I can use?"

"Yes, of course," Hazelle says with a confused expression. I follow her into the kitchen and stand silently while she grabs a small container. "Here, take the whole thing, and just bring it back when you're done," she tells me and hands it over.

"Thanks. Um, you don't by any chance know where I can find some maple syrup do you?"

"Maple syrup?" she asks, her voice colored with bewilderment. "I don't know if anyone makes that anymore. Sae might know."

"Great, I'll ask her. And thanks for the sugar," I add before dashing out the front door and down the steps. I don't stop at my house to drop off the sugar but instead head straight to Greasy Sae's.

"Katniss," she says in greeting. "It's been a few days. How're them plants coming along?"

"They're great, just great," I spit out quickly. "Listen does anyone make maple syrup anymore?"

"Well, sure. Ben takes care of that now. His sons have been helping quite a bit too."

"Of course!" I exclaim, having completely forgotten that Ben used to help Jude occasionally, and would know exactly how to make the syrup. "Do you know if he has any? I don't need much."

"Well, here, honey. I just got this from him for mending some of his boy's clothes," she says handing over a miniature jug full of the sweet amber liquid.

"Thank you so much, Sae. I'll bring you back a couple of rabbits," I promise before rushing off without any further chitchat.

Moments later, I'm standing in my kitchen staring at all of the supplies I've gathered completely dumbfounded.

"Ok, I can do this," I tell myself.

I grab a shallow bowl and start cracking eggs into it. It was nearly a month ago that Peeta told me how to make this, but I'm pretty sure milk and sugar went into it also. I whisk them all together, and start heating some butter in a pan. I slice the bread while I wait for the butter to melt. When everything's ready, I grab a piece of bread to dip in the egg mixture, but hesitate not wanting to mess up. I only let myself pause for a moment, and then I plunge the bread into the bowl. I flip it over quickly not really sure how long to let it soak up the liquid, and then throw it in the pan where it immediately starts to make a sizzling noise. I look at the clock to start timing, and it's torture just to wait the few minutes before I can flip it over. When I do finally get to slide my spatula under the bread I flip it quickly, and it hisses some more on impact. The first side doesn't look too terrible. There are some spots that are browner than others, but it looks edible. However, edible for me may not be the same as Peeta's expectations. After the three minutes are up for the second side, I slide it onto a plate and grab another piece of bread to start the whole process over again.

I feel a little more competent in my skills after I finish cooking the second slice, so I attempt to do two at time. My experiment is a success and they finish within a minute of each other.

Another twenty minutes go by, and I've got a plate stacked high with the bread when I hear the front door open.

"Katniss?" Peeta calls out.

"I'm in the kitchen," I squeak, and my eyes are wide when he enters.

"What are you doing?" he asks, looking from me to the plate in one hand, the spatula in the other, and the pan on the stove with two more pieces of bread in it.

"Um…making that fried bread you like?" I tell him, but it comes out sounding much more like a question than an actual reply. 'Uh…happy birthday," I say, forcing my voice to sound slightly more cheerful. His face breaks into a grin and he inhales deeply.

"This is amazing!" he exclaims, and walks over to the counter where the powdered sugar and syrup are waiting for the bread. "Where did you get all of this?"

"Well, I borrowed the sugar from your house, and Sae gave me the syrup. I already had the bread and the other stuff…" I trail off, still uncertain about what I've managed to put together. I set the plate down on the counter and flip over the slices still cooking. I look back to Peeta to see him staring at me with a small smile on his face. His expression is a little too wistful for my taste, and I have to look away after a moment.

"You did all this for my birthday?"

"Well, yeah." I contemplate letting him assume I've had this planned for weeks, but I don't feel right giving him the wrong impression. "But Haymitch had to remind me of the date. I'm so sorry, Peeta. I didn't mean to forget—"

"It's okay," he says, holding up his hand to stop me. "I understand. And this is so much more than I ever could've imagined. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I tell him. "But I still don't think you should be so understanding," I insist. "I'm an awful, horrible person for getting so wrapped up in myself again that I completely neglected you."

"No, Katniss. You are far from horrible. An awful person would have forgotten and not cared about finding a gift or making a special meal." He takes a few steps closer, but stops less than two feet from me. "And you haven't neglected me. In fact, I'd say recently you've spent more time with me than on your own," he finishes. He's not smiling anymore and his gaze is intense, keeping my eyes locked on his. My mouth opens repeatedly while I try to think of something to say. "Shall we?" he suggests, nodding to the plate on the counter.

"Here," I say, suddenly free of the spell his blue eyes had put me under. I grab a new plate and put the two slices of bread hot from the pan onto it. He takes it over to the table while I grab a plate for myself. I make two glasses of milk and put them by our plates, and Peeta places the sugar and syrup in the middle of the small table. "So, you just sprinkle the sugar on top of the bread?" I ask him.

"Yep," he replies and uses the spoon in the container to get the white powder. He then pours syrup over the entire plate, and I mimic his actions. I grab his hand before he reaches for the fork.

"Happy birthday, Peeta. I hope this tastes okay."

"It makes no difference. This will still be my best birthday ever," he admits, and then digs in. I join him in cutting up my bread into smaller bites. My first bite is a perfect combination of bread, powder, and syrup, and Peeta's right, it's delicious. The bread is slightly crisp on the outside, and then soft and fluffy on the inside. I had thought before that the sugar and syrup together would be too sweet, but they're perfectly complimentary. I take a big gulp of milk after a second bite, and it accompanies the food just as flawlessly. "What did I tell you?" Peeta asks after I finish the first piece of bread.

"It's awesome," I concede.

"And you were worried it wasn't going to taste good," he teases. I chuckle lightly, and we continue to eat in silence for a few more minutes. Peeta finishes first and grabs two more slices of bread. "What? It's good, and it's my birthday. I'll eat as much as I want," he says defensively when he sees my raised eyebrows. I just grin in response, glad that Peeta's pleased.

I start cleaning up and doing the dishes while Peeta finishes eating.

"No way," I declare when he comes to join me. "No dish duty on your birthday," I tell him and grab his dirty plate and glass. "Sit back down," I order, and he complies, grinning like a fool. Not many dishes were used, so it doesn't take too long, even on my own, and after a few minutes, we go to sit on the couch. I want to keep the mood light-hearted, so we talk about what's left to finish up the bakery, and we make plans for the warmer weather that's started to invade.

"I want to take you into the woods," I blurt out suddenly. I take myself by surprise actually, because I hadn't really given it that much thought yet.

"Like go hunting with you?" he asks.

"I don't know how much hunting I'd get done with you scaring off half the animals," I state with a grimace.

"Hey! No insulting the birthday boy!"

"I was just thinking maybe we could spend the afternoon out there. I mean once the bakery opens you won't have as much free time to spend here, so I don't know…I just—"

"Are you saying you're going to miss me, Katniss?" he questions me, his smile spreading from ear to ear.

"No!" I exclaim quickly. "I mean…so what if I will miss you? Although, now that you're making fun of me I take it all back."

"Oh, no, you don't," he says, moving from his side of the couch to the middle, and closer to me. "I'll miss spending time with you too," he confesses. I pull my knees up to my chest and grip them tightly when I see the look in his eyes. "Of course," he starts, and grins breaking the tension. "If you decided to work with me, we'd see each other all the time still."

"You just built the place, Peeta. I'm sure you don't want me to burn it down."

"What are you talking about? You're a great cook."

"But I don't bake. I'd probably catch the bread on fire or something," I admit.

"I'll get you to make a loaf someday," he promises.

Our banter continues for a little while longer, but when the pauses between conversations stretch out longer and longer, Peeta finally stands to go.

"Thank you, Katniss, for a great birthday," he says when we reach the door. He pulls me in for a brief hug, and doesn't linger any longer than a friend would. I don't know if he does it because he thinks I'm uncomfortable with our growing friendship or if he's just as frightened as I am, but I'm grateful for whatever reason it is.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." I give him a small smile. I can feel my eyelids getting heavier as I lean up against the edge of the door. Peeta steps through it onto the porch and inhales deeply.

"Smells like spring," he declares. I roll my eyes slightly; it's smelled like spring for close to a month now.

"It's been spring for a few weeks now, Peeta."

"Yeah, but it's still been miserably cold until this week," he defends himself.

"Goodnight, Peeta," I say, and push against his chest. He grabs my hand and holds it against him. His shirt is far too thin, even if the weather is more favorable, but that doesn't stop his skin from radiating so much heat.

"Goodnight, Katniss," he whispers and reluctantly lets go of me, turning away and heading down the stairs.

"Happy birthday," I call out once more, while watching him walk away.

I close the door and walk around the house turning out lights before heading up to bed. When I pull the covers up around my shoulders, I smile widely, surprising myself. But I just can't help feeling pleased with the gift I made for Peeta. It was nice to see him so happy, and to know that I helped create that happiness.

"Katniss!"

I hear Prim scream over and over while I battle the vines and creepers that made up the jungle from the Quarter Quell. Sweat pours down my face and back, and the hot, humid air is increasingly more difficult to pull into my burning lungs. Finally, I break through the last of the brush just as Prim's voice cuts off. The jungle has disappeared, and I fall to the floor of one of the tunnels located underneath the Capital; I'm assaulted by the sound of several more screams. I'm at a crossroads, and I can hear people screaming down the tunnels to my right and left and the one in front of me. They're calling my name, begging for mercy. I sink my head into my hands, while the howls threaten to tear me apart. But when Prim's voice rings out clear again, directly ahead of me, I sprint down the slippery tunnel. The air is still stifling even though I've left the tropics behind. I lose my footing twice on the slime covering the ground and walls. A faint orange glow appears at the end of the tunnel, making me think I'm about to enter a large chamber. I slow to a jog when I start to recognize the light for what it really is. The tunnel ends abruptly and opens into a giant pit full of flames. The roar of the fire masks the screams for a moment. I search frantically to try to locate Prim, but the heat stings my eyes.

"Katniss!" she screams again, and I feel like the sound is coming from inside my head it's so magnified.

Finally, I see her standing at the edge of another tunnel directly across from me. She's struggling against someone or something behind her, and gripping onto the edge of the walls to keep from being thrown into the flames. I can hear the other screams again over the noise of the blaze, and I look around the pit, seeing for the first time nearly a dozen tunnels all holding someone dear to me. Rue is the closest to me. She stops struggling against her captor to reach out to me, and I'm forced to watch her die all over again as the orange and red swallows her up. But I'm only given a moment to mourn for her loss before more people plummet to a fiery end. Johanna, Cinna, Haymitch, and even my mother are shoved into the inferno. Prim continues to struggle. She's the last one left, and she's losing the battle with the force behind her.

"Katniss, please!" she screeches.

I'd be sobbing if the tears didn't evaporate immediately from the heat. I look down and all around trying to find some way for me to get to her. There are ladders in between each tunnel that I can just barely reach, but when I put my hand to the metal, it singes my skin. I cry out in pain and pull back my hand that's now marred with an angry red line. But it's the only way to her, so I grit my teeth, and reach out to the ladder again. I scream in fury when I make contact again, but clench my jaw shut against the pain. I hang for a moment by hands before my feet find purchase on the bottom of the ladder. I move quickly to the next tunnel, and then onward to the ladder after it. The hot metal is burning through my skin and the soles of my shoes. The scent of my own charred flesh mingles with the bodies below me, and I retch when I reach the next tunnel. I'm only half way to Prim when her screams impossibly become even more agonized. I hurry onto the ladder, keeping my eyes locked on Prim. Her feet edge ever closer to the precipice. Time seems to slow to a snail's pace as I watch her slip on the muck under her feet. She doesn't land on her rear end like I'd expect, but is caught by her invisible executioner, and then flung helplessly into the flames like a ragdoll. My grip on the ladder's rung loosens, and I'm preparing to join her, to join them all, when his voice reaches me, clear and commanding.

"Katniss! Stop!" Peeta shouts. "Come here. Come to me." He reaches out to me from the next tunnel.

I grip his hand, but before I can step off the ladder Peeta is pushed from behind and begins to tumble forward. I hook my other arm around the ladder bracing myself for Peeta's weight, but it's too much. My hand is covered in blood and sweat and there's nothing else for Peeta to grab onto.

"Hang on, Peeta," I tell him, trying with all the strength left in me to pull him high enough to reach the ladder. But every inch I manage to gain, his hand slips slowly out of mine. "Please, Peeta," I whimper, knowing that it's no use. I'm so tired, and I'm losing this battle. My frantic eyes meet his, and they're calm, peaceful.

"I love you, Katniss," he whispers.

"I love you, Peeta," I reply just before he releases my hand and sinks into the orange sea below.

I wake tangled in a mass of sweat-soaked sheets, panting. I sit up slowly, shaking still, and scoot back against the headboard, letting my head fall back against it. It's still dark outside my window, but I don't dare try to fall back to sleep. I stare down at my hands, half expecting to see angry red welts. The dream was so real I can still feel phantom pains on my palms and the bottom of my feet. I clasp my hands together, attempting to stop the shaking, and take a few deep breaths in order to get myself back under control. But it's all in vain. The moment I picture Prim's face I'm sent back into hysterics. She sounded so close, so real. Her eyes pleading with me to save her continue to haunt me. But the memory (even if it is a fake one) of losing Peeta threatens to tear me apart. Tears begin running freely down my face, and I know there's no sense in denying it anymore. There is truth in some dreams. I do love Peeta. More than I care to admit.

I allow myself to cry until my sobs slow, and my eyes run dry. I feel exhausted, but pleasantly numb now that I've had my release. I begin my morning routine, and leave the house before Peeta can come by for breakfast and see my puffy eyes and red nose. I don't think I'm ready to see him anyway since my revelation this morning. I love him; I know this now. But I don't know what kind of love it is, or how to react to this.

"Oh, Prim," I sigh as soon as the trees envelop me. "I miss you so much. I don't know how much longer I can stand seeing you die," I tell her with a slight whimper. But I refuse to breakdown again. So I shake my head, square my shoulders, and head deeper into the woods.

I lose myself in my work. I focus on the sounds of nature surrounding me instead of the remembered cries from my many nightmares. I allow my every sense to take over, and become the predator searching for my prey. The forest floor is spongy from all the spring rain and the new growth. In my heightened state, I can smell life blooming around me. Sweat starts to build up on my forehead and lower back. Over the past few weeks, I've started leaving my jacket at home, the increasing heat negating the need for it. It's my favorite time of year to hunt. The lingering wetness from the rain amplifies the scents around me, and the loud crickets and cicadas of summer haven't taken up residence yet. The temperature never rises too high in the morning, but isn't so cool that my extremities take forever to limber up.

I stand still and stunned for a moment, watching a doe drink daintily from a small brook. I pause for a moment taking in the beauty of the situation. There's a small voice in the back of my head that wishes to move on and leave the animal alone. It makes me think of Prim. She never could stand the thought of killing animals. I shove the thought aside and let the arrow fly, feeling an immense sense of relief when it makes contact with the poor creature.

"I'm sorry, Prim," I confess to her.

My momentary high starts to recede the closer I get to town. I walk around the back of the businesses to take the deer to the butcher's, purposefully avoiding the bakery. I'm still not ready to face Peeta knowing what I do now.

I look over at the now completely orange building while I wait for the butcher to come back with my payment. I'll have to wait until tomorrow to get the cuts that he promised me. It's been strange not to be dealing with Rooba anymore, but her replacement has always been fair in my dealings with him.

While I wait, I let my mind wander, and think about the time I've spent with Peeta recently. We've both opened up and let each other in. We've shared our happiest and most depressing memories. We've told some of our darkest secrets, and our worst fears. And now I have a new fear to join the rest. Because the thought of losing Peeta again makes the air in my lungs disappear, and my chest ache. I'm so afraid to need him as much as I do. But I'm even more scared of wanting him like I do.

"Her you go, Ms. Everdeen," Safet says stepping around the counter. He refuses to call me by my first name, and I don't have the energy to contradict him today. "I'll have that meat for you tomorrow."

"Great, thanks." I take the envelope from him and fold it up into a pocket.

"No. Thank you. I don't normally get venison. This'll be a treat," he reassures me. She looked like a good animal; I'm sure it will be good meat. "Have a good day," he says as I open the door. I give him a small wave in return and slip outside. I quickly retreat behind the buildings and take the long way home.

I head straight for my garden to pull a few weeds and water some of the drier plants. Greasy Sae came over a couple weeks ago with cages and poles for some of the plants to help them stand tall. It's really looking like a proper source of food now.

When I finish I end up getting in the shower before starting my work inside. I've relegated my showers to after I hunt and work outside now that it's getting warmer and I tend to sweat more and get dirtier. I leave my hair down again with just the front tied back. I start cleaning, throwing windows open as I go and letting the warm spring breeze drift through the house.

My chores inside don't take long, like usual, so I find myself with more time than I'd like left before I should start dinner. I start doing things that don't really need to be done just to keep my mind occupied. I take an inventory of my pantry, noting anything I'm running low on. Only I already did this last week, and it's not like I go through much, even if Peeta does eat dinner here every night. I even sit down at the small kitchen table to write out a list of meals I know how to prepare with their recipes. My distractions take longer than expected, and I have to start dinner in a hurry.

"What's all that?" I ask Peeta when he comes walking in carrying three boxes in various sizes.

"They're your gifts," he explains.

"Gifts? What for?"

"Honestly, Katniss. I understand you forgetting my birthday, but really? You can't even remember your own?"

The spoon I had been stirring with slips into the soup I'm cooking.

"Cripes!" I gingerly reach into the hot liquid to retrieve the utensil. "Ugh! Ow!"

"Katniss, stop," Peeta says, rushing over with a towel and then turning on the water. I rinse my hand in the cool water while he dries the spoon in order to continue stirring.

"Is it really May eighth?" I ask, my hand still in the stream.

"I promise."

"I need a calendar or something. I can't keep forgetting what day it is." I shut the water off and pat my hand dry. It's not burned, just an angry dark pink. I stare for a moment, remembering my dream. I look up at Peeta as I recall what we told each other in it. I smile slightly, watching him take a taste of the soup. When did he become so precious to me? "So, these are for me?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Um, yeah," he says looking self-conscious now. "There's a huge stack of letters by the door too. The medium one is from Plutarch, the small one from Gale, and the big one is, um…mine."

"You got me a gift?"

"I had to do something after that amazing meal you made me."

"No, you didn't," I tell him, but I'm secretly excited to see what Peeta would get me. I grab his present first, and begin pulling it open. "Oh, Peeta," I exclaim softly when I see the green leaves.

"It's some herbs. Specifically ones that don't grow much here," he explains. "You can transplant them into your garden or leave them in there and keep them inside."

"How did—where did you get these?"

"Annie sent some, and Johanna, Beetee, and Cressida too. You're always cooking, and I remember you mentioned how boring it gets making the same things over and over and that you like to try new things. There's a book in the bottom with some recipes I had them send with the plants."

I gently pull the small pots out and sure enough, there's a small book underneath. I flip through the first twenty or so pages that are full of recipes all written by Peeta's hand.

"I figured you could fill up the rest of it on your own," he adds. I stand there speechless for a moment. He knows me so well. I look up at him suddenly, and see insecurity written all over his face.

"I love it, Peeta," I tell him. He meets my gaze and grins. It takes my breath away. I haven't seen him so blissfully happy since we won our Games. I cover the few feet separating us quickly and wrap my arms around his waist placing a brief kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," I whisper. He clears his throat and I back away.

"Open the others," he encourages. I grab Gale's next. I set aside the letter to read later and pull out a pair of amazingly supple leather gloves. They must have cost a great deal. "Wow," I hear Peeta say. "Those will be great for hunting."

"Yes. Just like your gift will be great for cooking, Peeta," I remind him when I notice his forlorn face. I set Gale's gift and letter aside and open Plutarch's next. The box is heavy as I pull it toward me across the table. This time I read the letter, knowing that there won't be anything Peeta wouldn't want to hear in it.

Happy Birthday, Katniss! The reports Haymitch has been sending about your recovery are astounding. I'm happy to know that you're doing better. I'm also glad to have an excuse to send you this radio. I know you'll be more likely to listen to this than to watch my new singing contest on television. It's all government stuff on Channel One, so turn to Channel Two. Enjoy!

Plutarch

I pull out the small device and set it down on the table. My father always wanted a radio, but they weren't cheap to come by. T.V.'s were standard issue so the Capitol could force us to watch their programming, but radios were a luxury that only the wealthy could afford.

"It's just like the one he sent me," Peeta says.

"You got one too?"

"Yeah, for my birthday. I'm glad he sent you one. Can I set it up for you?"

"Why don't we eat first?" I suggest.

"Oh, alright," he concedes. We grab bowls of soup and bread for soaking and sit down to eat. Peeta finishes swiftly, burning his tongue in the process, and starts washing dishes. He whisks my bowl away as soon as I take my last bite, and scrubs it quickly. "You're going to love this, Katniss," he tells me, picking up the radio and carrying it to the living room. "Okay, where do you want it?"

I laugh lightly at his enthusiasm and start rearranging things on the table underneath the front window.

"How about right here?" I suggest. He puts it down and finds an outlet nearby to plug into. He starts pressing buttons and turning dials. Suddenly a faint voice can be heard coming through the speakers. He turns the volume up slightly, and we stand there silently listening to the upbeat tune playing.

"They play music from all thirteen districts," Peeta explains when the first songs ends and another begins. I nod slowly letting my thoughts drift in time to the music. I hadn't realized there was so much music to be heard from other districts as well as ours. Music isn't exactly something the government encouraged. It was always seen as a time waster. That sort of entertainment wasn't what they wanted us focusing on. We were only supposed to get our kicks from the Games.

"Dance with me, Katniss," Peeta says suddenly, and I realize he's standing right next to me expectantly.

"Um, I don't really dance," I tell him.

"Bull," he exclaims, calling my bluff. "I saw you at Finnick and Annie's wedding. You were dancing. I wanted so badly to go and join all of you. It was like hearing music from home gave me back a part of myself that night. I saw you from afar just like I had seen you countless times at school and the market and the back door of my parent's bakery. And you looked so carefree that day. For a moment, you had let go and dropped that hard defensive shell you're always wearing, and I wanted to run out to join you in your blissful state. Only I couldn't then. But I can now," Peeta finishes just as a new song begins to flow from the speakers. He grabs my right hand and puts his own around my waist pulling me closer to him. I hesitate briefly, but then relax into his embrace, remembering the wedding. I wanted to be happy that night. I had wanted to let go and forget the Mockingjay, and the Games, and the Capitol. Tonight is no different. So, I place my left arm on Peeta's shoulder and let him begin swaying us to the tune.

At last, my love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song

My back is to the window when a breeze comes through, but it's not the not the chill in the night air that causes me to shiver. I look up at Peeta. The blue of his eyes seems to be a much darker shade and he's staring at me with an intensity I can feel from my scalp all the way down to my toes.

Oh, yeah, at last

The skies above are blue

My heart was wrapped up in clovers

The night I looked at you

He pulls me tighter and I let my hand creep up from his shoulder to the back of his neck. His eyelids drift closed for a moment as I begin twirling my fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. After he releases me from his penetrating gaze, I let my head rest against his chest. My mind wanders to my dream from the night before. But there are no flames or death surrounding the two of us. In my head, it's just Peeta and me whispering 'I love you' to each other.

I found a dream that I could speak to

A dream that I can call my own

I found a thrill to rest my cheek to

A thrill that I have never known

"Peeta, I—" I start. The three words Peeta's been waiting to hear from me for fourteen years get caught in my throat, and I can't force them out. "Thank you," I tell him instead, knowing that the phrase is inadequate. I try to infuse the words with as much sincerity and emotion I can, so he'll know that even if I can't say the words I still care deeply for him. He gives me a warm smile in response, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. And I can see in his expression that he understands.

Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile

Oh, and then the spell was cast

And here we are in heaven

For you are mine At last

We stop moving to the music, and Peeta brings our linked hands closer to our bodies. His smile fades as his head dips lower and closer to me. He lets go of my hand, gently placing his palm against my cheek, his other hand still wrapped firmly around my waist.

"I love you, Katniss," he purrs just before his lips melt against mine. In the back of my mind, I hear the music switch to another slow song like the playlist was specifically designed for this moment. Peeta becomes bolder and his lips press more firmly to my mouth. I challenge back, matching his passion. My other hand finds its way up to his neck, and I find myself grasping and pulling him tighter to me.

Peeta pulls back suddenly, pressing his forehead to mine, and breathing heavily. I can hear my own breath mirroring his. He doesn't pause long before his mouth is claiming me again. This time his lips are slow and patient, trailing soft kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I search out his hands, and when I find one, pull him over to the couch to sit, having been on my feet long enough today. He sits down to join me, but resumes his previous activity. His mouth is back on mine and his hands run through my hair. I groan when his fingers scrape my scalp, remembering how amazing it was the first time he did it. I lose myself in the moment and let instinct send my hands roaming over his chest and arms. He leans into me slightly and I compensate by lying down on the cushions. I stretch my legs out and I feel his weight press me further into the couch as he mimics my pose. I'm feeling bold, so I part my lips slightly, and Peeta follows my cue, letting the tip of his tongue run along my bottom lip. The kiss deepens and our tongues meet, sending warmth throughout my body starting with my stomach and spreading out like wildfire.

We spend the next few minutes, hours, hell, days maybe mesmerized by each other's mouth. But before things get too heated and go too far, Peeta moves off me, breaking the kiss and turning onto his side, his back pressed against the back of the couch. His arms wrap around me and I turn into him using the arm underneath me as a pillow. Peeta helps sooth my nerves by brushing my hair lightly with the tips of his fingers. I kiss his chest three times before settling in against him, and letting my eyes drift close.

"My birthday was way better than yours," I mumble.

"I love you, Katniss," he whispers over and over in between kissing the top of my head, and I fall asleep to the sound of his voice and the magical radio playing softly in the background.


A/N: Okay, I know orange seems like a crazy color for the bakery, so here's a link for my inspiration http:/www (dot) houzz (dot) com/photos/415337/_trid=/Suzanne-Fortescue-eclectic-exterior-portland. So lively and fun, yes? (Also, I'm really new to putting in a link. I hope that works. Just put actual dots and take out the spaces.)

Sorry for any confusion about when I was going to upate. I was referring to the fact that I had posted chapter six only a week after chapter five. I shouldn't have gotten so excited though, since the gap between six and seven has been so long. I wish I could give you a better idea on an update schedule, but my life is way too chaotic to know when I'll finish a chapter and be able to post it. Thanks for sticking with me!

I'd love to hear what you think about them finally getting together! Thanks for reading!

Update: I'm such a doofus! I'm sorry, I'm running on three hours of sleep because I stayed up for the midnight showing of The Hunger Games and then had to be at work by 6:45am. But it was totally worth it! What did everyone else think? I loved it!