A/N: Hey guys! I'd like to say thanks again to everyone who voted in my poll! If you haven't checked it out already, 'The Thin Line Between Obsessed and Crazy' won and is already posted on my profile :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter Ten

"You're making this harder than it needs to be!"

Cato refused to relent. His hand covered his eyes, so all he could see was the dark shadows created by his hand. "Just explain to me why you think you have to do this first," he said. There was a pause. Cato could vaguely hear Peeta breathing, the sharp, chopped sound giving away how afraid he was. Why did he think that showing him his body would show whether they had to be together or not?

"I don't want you to lose your job over our relationship only for you to look at me later on and think, Oh my god, what have I done?" Peeta explained. "Which you might do, when you see me like this. I think it's better to get it out of the way now while you still have your job, rather than later when you don't."

"Peeta, you know I wouldn't do that to you, I've told you on numerous occasions-" Okay, now he was re-thinking it. Had he told Peeta how much he liked him? Or had he not done it enough? Surely it was his fault that Peeta had felt driven to do such a thing, right?

"You have . . ." Peeta trailed off uncertainly. "But for all I know you could be just saying it! A lot of the time I just thought you were trying to make feel better in that moment. I mean, your words are always so sweet and stuff, why would anyone say that about me?"

Cato frowned. "Why wouldn't they? Trust me, I don't say those sorts of things to any old radomer I go out with," he said. "Peeta, everything I say to you is sincere, I'd never tell you a lie to make your feel better, I'd tell you the truth."

"You could be lying right now!" Peeta sounded hysterical and Cato began to worry. What exactly happened to him at school today? What happened him? "I don't know! It's still a bit early in the relationship for you to say anything serious, so how do I know that you're not talking rubbish?"

"Because I'm not! Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you! Just look at me and prove it!"

"How is this going to prove anything?" Cato insisted.

"Because love isn't just based on words, is it? You could be saying all this now and you could be sincere and all that but what if you look at me later on when we . . . when we . . ." Peeta skipped over what he was going to say next and continued. "And you don't like what you see? What if my mother is right and I'm skinny and feminine and not even you would want that?!"

"Not just based on . . . What else have you picked up over the years about love that isn't true?" Cato asked. "Who told you all this?"

"My . . . My mother."

"So your mother says that you have a feminine body and no one is going to love you because of that and has you somehow convinced that you have to do this to . . . what? Prove a point?" Cato frowned. He reached out and walked slowly, careful not to trip, so that his hand came into contact with Peeta's cheek. The skin was smooth but felt cold. How long had he been like this?

"I'm scared you won't like what you see," Peeta whispered quietly. "What if later on, even after you maybe tell me that you love me or something and we're maybe g-g-going to d-do that, what if you take one look at me and think that I'm ugly and you begin to regret everything."

"I'm not that shallow. I would never do that," Cato replied. Why would Peeta think this? Did his anxiety made it hard to believe things concerning him? Good things, anyway, if Cato turned around and started saying horrible things to him, Peeta would probably believe it.

"Prove it then, look at me."

"I can't. You're obviously in a very vulnerable position right now and looking would be taking advantage," Cato said. "Why don't you put the robe back on and I'll make you a cup of tea and we can talk about this rationally?"

Peeta grabbed Cato's wrist and started tugging. "Please look . . . You don't want to look at me . . . Oh god, this is what I worried about . . ."

"Peeta, stop tugging and calm down," Cato instructed, grabbing Peeta's wrist and extracting it off his own. "Take deep breaths."

"I knew it, I'm ugly and you know it and you're just trying to seem noble by pretending that you don't want to look at me just yet and . . . and . . . and . . . arrggh . . . and you'll lose your job for nothing and . . . and . . . and . . ." Peeta was rambling in a panic, his breathing now short and more erratic.

Cato could feel him trembling under his hand. He was going to have to move his hand away from his eyes so he could calm Peeta down. It was either that or he was going to go into a full blown panic attack. Okay, he could do this. Just don't let your eyes linger on anything and focus soley on his eyes.

He removed his hand from his eyes and immediately focused his eyes on Peeta's large, startled baby blues, and resisted the urge to take them anywhere else. "Okay, Peeta, I know you think I'm lying to you but I'm not, I promise. You're having a panic attack and you need to breath before you pass out." Cato looked around the room and sighed at it's bare interior. "Come with me."

He grabbed the robe from the floor and guided Peeta out of the room and down the stairs. Sitting him down on the sofa, he quickly ran into the kitchen and grabbed a paper bag from his top drawer. "Here, breathe into this," he said, giving Peeta the bag.

Peeta covered his mouth with the bag and panicked into it. Cato watched the bag blowing out and pulling in with his breathing. This method was outdated but it was all he had at hand right now. He sat down beside Peeta and reached out to rub his back comfortingly, quickly retracting his hand as he realized that he couldn't touch him right now, especially since he was sitting with so much skin exposed.

When he researched this on wiki-how, it said to cool the panicked person down by maybe dabbing their face and neck with a wet cloth. Cato didn't know if this would help but he certainly didn't think it would be appropriate because the current panicked person was wearing nothing but his underwear and was panicking about the fact that his boyfriend thought he was ugly.

"To me, you're going to be beautiful, clothes or no clothes," Cato said, his eyes fixed on Peeta's blond hair and hoping he was making him feel better.

"How do you know that, you won't look at me!" Peeta threw the bag away and threw his head into his arms. "No one's ever going to want to look at me."

"I will, but not when you're so scared and vulnerable," Cato explained. "It's a giant step to take in the relationship and it to be taken because you're frightened I won't accept you. We're not even sleeping in the same room yet, Peeta. I think you're going a bit fast."

"Argh, you're right, I'm such an idiot," Peeta muttered. "I-I'm so sorry."

"Hey, you don't need to be," Cato replied. "You were having an episode."

"But I feel so stupid now."

"Don't, honestly, it's okay." Cato studied Peeta's face, which was half hidden by his arms. If he sneaked a peak right now, he wouldn't know . . . No, stop it, that's not fair. That's taking advantage. Peeta looked so miserable, he felt awful. "Okay, how about this. You get into your pyjamas and we'll have a go at sleeping in the same room, how does that sound?"

Peeta tilted his head so one eye peered out from the crook of his arm. "R-really?" he stammered.

"Yeah," Cato answered. "If you want to, that is." He grabbed the nightgown and covered Peeta with it. "I'm willing but I won't force you to."

"No, I-I'm willing," Peeta said eagerly. He sat up, holding the robe close to his body and smiling brightly. He flushed in embarrassment at his enthusiasm.

Cato smiled. God, Peeta was cute when he blushed. "Does your parents know you won't be home tonight?" he asked.

"My . . . my parents are away on vacation," Peeta explained. "They won't be back for two more weeks."

Cato frowned. "How long have they been gone?" he asked.

"Not long. A month last Monday," Peeta answered.

"Peeta, that's pretty long. Is there anyone at home who looks after you?"

"Yeah, my brother Rye! Although he isn't home very often. It still counts though! And Wheat sometimes visits too," Peeta quickly explained. "My parents will be back soon, I promise." Cato was skeptical but couldn't argue. Peeta's parents had been away for a month, that wasn't something he was going to ignore. It wasn't a matter for the present but they were definitely going to come back to it.

~xXx~

Peeta stood anxiously outside Cato's room, apprehensive about going in. He was definitely a lot more comfortable in his own pyjamas and was glad that he remembered to bring them. He still felt like a fool after his episode from earlier but Cato had been so understanding that the humiliation wasn't as strong.

"Peeta, are you coming?" Cato called from inside the room.

"Yeah," Peeta called back. He shuffled into the room sheepishly, tugging his sleeves down as far as they would go. After his episode, he felt more self-conscious about how he looked. Had Cato seen anything? He knew he hadn't looked at him intentionally but . . . there was still accidental noticing . . .

Cato sat at the top of his bed, his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read the sexual harrassment booklet Coin had given Peeta. "Is this legit?" he asked. "I mean, I haven't done any of this to you, have I?"

"Oh no," Peeta quickly said, shutting the door tight behind him and stopping at the bottom of Cato's bed. "It's a load of rubbish. Well, obviously not to people actually seeking help for sexual harrassment but you've never done any of that to me."

Cato raised his eyebrows at Peeta. "You look petrified, are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked.

Peeta nodded quickly. He didn't want his episode to have happened in vain and really wanted something to come out of it. "How . . . how do I . . . you know . . ." His hands flailed pathetically as he tried to get across what he was trying to say.

"Just come sit beside me," Cato said, gesturing at the space beside him.

Thankful for some guidance, Peeta moved to the side of the bed and awkwardly sat beside Cato. He had only ever shared a bed with Madge when they slept over at each other's houses when they were kids so he wasn't sure what it was going to be like to share a bed with someone who wasn't her.

"Peeta, you still look scared," Cato pointed out. "You don't have to do this just yet if you aren't ready."

"No, I am, I swear," Peeta insisted. He scooted a little bit closer and smiled at his teacher weakly. "I promise I'm fine."

Cato smiled back and wrapped his arm around the younger boy's shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Okay, let's see." He turned his attention back to the booklet, skim reading it. "By way of example, prohibited conduct that may be considered harassment or discrimination may include unwelcome or inappropriate: erbal comments or remarks that are derogatory, sexually suggestive, offensive, threatening, intimidating and/or hostile," he read. "I didn't do that to you, right?"

Peeta shook his head. "No," he said. "As far as I'm aware . . . As Prinicpal Coin kept saying, I'm very naive so I probably wouldn't notice . . ."

"Naive? Prinicpal Coin told you you were naive?" Cato asked, sounding shocked.

"Yeah," Peeta mumbled.

"Don't listen to her, you're not a naive," Cato said. He glanced back down at the booklet."Physical behaviour such as pats, squeezes, deliberate brushing against someone's body, impending or blocking normal work or movement, unwanted sexual advances, or unwanted touching?" He didn't say anything for a moment. "At least I didn't block your school work . . ."

Peeta smiled, feeling himself blush again. "Because that's the only part of that option that you can think that you didn't do?" he teased.

Cato shrugged. "Why? Did the other stuff make you uncomfortable?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

"No! I liked it!" Peeta blurted out. His cheeks flamed and he looked away, unable to meet Cato's gaze. Why did he have to be such a bumbling idiot? Cato chuckled and kissed his cheek, which did nothing to defuse the whole blushing situation. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"I think we need to have a talk about things that merit a 'sorry' and things that don't need it," Cato said. "It's okay to like things."

"Yeah but not those sort of things."

"Yes those sort of things." Cato squeezed him again and kissed the top of his head. Peeta flushed and turned his face into Cato's chest to hide it. "Trust me, your sexuality's a weird thing and you're right at the age where you're going to start to recognize it and explore it more."

"Did you . . . explore it when you were my age?" Peeta mumbled.

"A bit younger, actually," Cato answered.

"What, really?"

"Yup." Cato rubbed the bridge of his nose and put the booklet onto the bedside table. He reached out to switch off the lamp but paused. "Do you prefer the light on or off?"

"Oh," Peeta said, "I don't mind." Cato nodded and flicked it off. Peeta waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, pulling the guilt over his legs and watching Cato take his glasses off and put them into their case. "So . . . h-how does this work?" He could just about make out Cato's smile as he looked at him.

"Right, come on, lie down and I'll show you," he said.

Peeta did as he was told and slid down underneath the covers of the bed until his head rested against the pillow. He felt a little bit awkward, lying in someone else's bed, and he tried not to bolt off the bed and run into the spare room. He had to give this a go. Not just for Cato but for himself.

Cato lay down beside him and, ever so carefully, wrapped his arms around his waist. Peeta found himself naturally moulding into Cato, letting his head and hands rest on his chest. Cato was actually very warm and being held by him was a lot more comforting than Peeta had first anticipated. His presence was soothing and alleviating. He had never felt as mollified before in his entire life.

"Is this okay?" Cato asked in a hushed voice.

"Sssh," Peeta mumbled. "Tired."

Cato chuckled and kissed his forehead, stroking his hair as he slowly fell asleep.

~xXx~

Peeta woke up in the middle of the night, despite his body's protests. His eyes fluttered lazily and he groaned softly to himself. He must have moved at some point over night as he was lying on his back now . . . he hadn't fallen asleep like that, right? A chill bit at his skin, making goosepimples rise along his arms and neck.

Reluctant to move, he sluggishly reached down to grab the covers and pull them up over himself. Instead of finding the covers, his fingers touched hair. Wait . . . hair?! Now that he thought about it, something very heavy was ontop of him right now. Who was it?

Forcing his eyes open, Peeta blinked away the sleep and lethargically lifted his head. Oh yeah, that's right, he was sharing the bed with Cato . . . his teacher . . . His teacher who was currently lying ontop of him, fast asleep. How had they switched positions so drastically in only a few hours?

When he tried to extract himself from underneath Cato, his boyfriend moaned sleepily in protest and held on tighter. Peeta let out a tiny gasp as he felt his teacher's hands slid across his bare back when he tightened his grip. How had his hands managed to get under his shirt?! Was Cato a sleep toucher or something? Not that it really felt all that bad . . .

While he was noticing these things, Peeta also noted that the mattress was pushing his shirt up (maybe the reason why Cato's hands found their way underneath?), that Cato's head currently lay on his stomach, and something very hard was pressing into his leg-what was that?

Peeta manouvered his head so that he could peer down and see what was pressing into him. He bit his lip and winced when he realized what it was. Were they supposed to be that big? Peeta flushed and looked away, ashamed at himself for staring. "Get it together Mellark," he muttered to himself.

Cato slowly began to wake up, fighting it at first before giving in. "Mmf, what time is it?" he groaned.

"I don't know," Peeta whispered back.

"It's very early baby, why are you awake?" Cato mumbled, letting his eyes close again. Moments later, he was asleep again. Peeta was astounded by how quickly he could lose himself in sleep. It would normally take himself around twenty minutes to fall asleep!

"Wow Cato, your attention span is fascinating," Peeta chuckled to himself. He pet Cato hair, smiling at him affectionately. He was cute when he was asleep. Much less . . . stern looking . . .

Half an hour after he fell asleep, Cato started mumbling in his sleep. Peeta strained to listen but could only make out his name and a string of incohearant compliments that made him blush. He didn't mind listening to him at first, in fact it was very cute, but then he felt the hands on his back slide down and he didn't know what to do.

God, sleepy Cato was a lot more handsy than awake Cato. Peeta was torn between waking him up or leaving him be. When the hands found purchase on his backside and squeezed, Peeta bit his fist to hold back a loud yelp. Oh goodness, it felt even better the second time. Why did it feel so good? He should be ashamed with himself.

Trust me, your sexuality's a weird thing and you're right at the age where you're going to start to recognize it and explore it more.

Cato had said it was normal . . . Maybe it wasn't something to be ashamed of . . .

Peeta realized his heart was beating pretty quick. Not panic attack quick but a different sort of quick . . . His neither regions were feeling strange and a small (okay, quite large) part of him wanted Cato to 'sleep-squeeze' again. He felt unnaturally hot, like he had when he had read Cato's dream log, and he wished he could distract himself with a logical thought. But logical thoughts wouldn't come. His head was clouded with things he didn't understand.

What if Cato hadn't covered his eyes earlier? What if Peeta was confident and proud of how he looked? What if Cato liked what he saw? What if he kissed him . . . like they had kissed before but with a lot more passion and intensity . . . What if it went further than it had ever went before . . .

Whoa, hold your horses Peeta. What the hell has gotten into you?!

"Peeta," Cato muttered drowsily, his hands tightening again. Peeta squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard, his hips lifting a little bit to rub against the rough material of Cato's pyjama pants.

Ohhh ggoddd . . .

The pyjama pants actually relieved the pressure down below and Peeta found himself rubbing against them to keep himself occupied. It began to feel really nice and eventually his eyes drooped closed, all his mind could focus on being that weird feeling he was experiencing. He didn't understand it, but what he was doing felt good and in that moment that seemed to be all that mattered.

"Peeta?" Cato's voice was suddenly a lot more alert and Peeta paused, his heart fluttering like the wings of a caged bird. "Peeta, are you humping me?"

Oh, shit.

What now?

A/N: Soooo, what did you think? Let me know! :D