A/N: Hey, everyone! Wow! The response to this has been amazing!

I know I have been updating fast, but after this, it'll be a little bit before I can get back to it. (And I will. This story is far from over.) [I'm just going to say this, even though this story keeps coming back. Okay. I tried. I really tried.]

In the mean time, if you want, come see me on tumblr. everybirdfellsilent

Xxx

Katniss woke to blue eyes staring down at her, causing her to smile lazily and curl into the warm body next to her, mumbling a lazy, "Mmmm," followed by a yawn.

Taking in a deep breath before stretching she smelled pears, and ash, and cinnamon, and dill, and Peeta's cologne, and-

Oh God.

She stilled mid stretch, her eyes shooting open to be greeted with the same white T-shirt Peeta had worn the day before inches from her face.

Sitting up abruptly, she scowled, her mind racing back to the night before, trying to remember just how she ended up here, with Peeta, asleep on his tattoo chair, curled up with him - she checked all of her limbs for a new tattoo, scowling deeper when Peeta's laugh interrupted her search.

"No, I'm not that mean," he smirked. "No nightmares, I assume?"

She smiled absently at the realization. "No nightmares."

His cheeks were starting to flush, and she noticed he was staring into her eyes very intently.

She was still wearing his shirt. And no bra.

Quickly crossing her arms across her chest, she could only imagine the color her face took.

Was that relief on his face? She didn't know whether to be insulted or not at that.

"Good morning, Sunshine," he said, rising from the chair and walking towards the door. "I'll let you change. Oh. And by the way," he turned back to her, one hand braced against the door frame. "You drool."

Xxx

Peeta had called Jo and asked her to make some scene so Katniss could slip over to her shop.

The media was at the front and back door. Why they were such a commodity in a town surrounded by celebrities, she had no clue.

Jo had laughed diabolically before hanging up the phone.

Whatever she did worked. The vans cleared out like wildfire.

Katniss jogged over to the front door of her shop, relishing in the rare moment of freedom to walk through the front door.

Once inside, she did a walk of shame past Prim to the back. Despite his protests, she had not changed back, but worn his shirt out the door as he yelled, "This means war, flower girl!" to her back, making the moment that much better.

She always kept spare clothes in the back. Working with dirt and dyes and such, and as clumsy as she was, a new shirt was an almost daily thing.

Thoughts of the night before, the days before, the weeks before drifted into her mind as she changed.

What exactly were she and Peeta?

How had they gotten here?

Why hadn't they kissed since?

It bothered her to no end that the last one was the foremost in her mind.

Xxx

Prim brought up the plant book over lunch break. It was just the two of them today, sitting in the window of the shop, soles of their shoes touching the other's.

"Have you showed it to him yet?"

"Yet? No. Why would I?"

Prim shrugged. "I dunno. Just seems like something he would like."

"That's kind of personal, Prim. If I ever were to show that to him, I don't think we're there yet."

"Oh? Well then where are you?" Prim's smirk annoyed Katniss.

"Don't worry about it, Little Duck."

"I'm your sister. It's my job, Weeping Willow."

Katniss scowled. "What did you just call me?"

"A description of that face you are making."

"My face looks like a tree that wilts for a living?"

"When you make that face it does."

"And what is this face?"

"The face of, 'I know where I am, but I'm afraid to move forward'."

"Are you sure it's not just my annoyed face? Cause I'm feeling that pretty strongly."

Prim grinned. "I don't know. Could be. All of your faces are so similar. Maybe you're bursting at the seams with happiness but are too afraid to show it, so you're hiding."

"I'm pretty sure it's annoyed."

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. Not everyone can be as expressive as me."

Xxx

Katniss pulled the book out from under her bed after work, studying the pages, tracing them lightly with her fingers.

Her father's drawing along with her mother's handwriting, detailing all the different types of flowers and plants they had ever come across.

Her mother used to spend hours bent over it, writing down names on a separate sheet of paper for arrangements.

Prim was right. Peeta would love this.

She slipped it into a backpack and headed back to the shop.

When she got there, the lot was once again swarming with the vile people carrying cameras.

She saw Peeta interviewing at the end of the sidewalk, right in front of the tattoo shop, some celebrity on his arm, practically drooling as she looked at Peeta.

What the hell was going on?

Getting out of the car and pulling her hood down to cover part of her face, she threw the backpack over one shoulder, locked the car, and stalked toward the shop.

She knew Peeta saw her. He looked her right in the eyes, no sunglasses to hide behind as he interviewed, and that dimple appeared before he looked back at the camera, not missing a beat.

Grinning, she tried to sidestep the reporter behind the camera, but they wouldn't let her through. She tried to push past a few others, but no way was clear.

Finally she quietly said, "Excuse me," and tried to walk through, but the reporter didn't move an inch.

She simply looked at Katniss disgustedly before scoffing. "Yes, excuse you. I'm conducting an interview. Go ask for change somewhere else."

Katniss was thankful for the sunglasses she wore, hiding her wide eyes at the remark, feeling tears brimming unexpectedly.

Chancing a look at Peeta, he looked like he was about to explode.

To avoid further conflict, Katniss pushed through, jostling the reporter, making her lose her footing, nearly falling into the shot.

"Excuse you! Who do you think you are? Are you looking for a restraining order?"

Turning back to Peeta and Miss Googly Eyes, the reporter purposely bumped into her, causing her bag to slip off her shoulder and fall to the ground with a thud.

It was almost slow motion. All she had left in the world of that part of her life was falling, falling, speeding to the ground, the sound it made on impact a sickening thud.

The reporter scoffed. "Whoops. Sorry."

Without a second thought, Katniss screwed her face into her deepest scowl and punched the reporter right in the face.

"Whoops. Sorry," Katniss said sarcastically.

Silence hung in the air for the briefest of moments, the calm before the storm, before the thunder of questions, the lightning of flashes, the pouring rain of spittle from rabid reports came pouring down on her.

Scooping up the bag, she whipped her head from side to side, in search of rescue, her hood falling down, causing the roar to grow as they recognized her.

She looked around desperately, searching for that blonde hair, those giant aviators, the strong arms that shielded her from the storm.

Where's Peeta?

Xxx

After a few brief moments of confusion, Haymitch grabbed her forearm and pulled her into the shop, shouting obscenities at the paparazzi.

"He's in his room. Go!" Haymitch told her as he locked the door, flipping off the cameras and sticking his tongue out like a child. He was undoing his belt and muttering about a full moon that evening as Katniss started down the hall.

Peeta was on a stool, holding an ice pack to his eye, his knuckles starting to develop bruising.

"Peeta! What happened?"

He smiled, wincing slightly and grabbing his jaw. "She was just so damn rude. The camera man was about to punch you after you punched the reporter, so I stopped him. With my fists. Then he stopped his fists on my face."

Haymitch walked in zipping up his pants. "That outta give them enough for now." He grinned at Peeta who was shaking his head.

He turned to Katniss. "Saw you throw that punch out there, girl. And let me tell you something." He gave her a thumbs up, grinning madly. "Haymitch approves."