Wrestling between Brothers

(Peeta)

"Come on, Peeta. One match," Káto cajoles.

"I'm busy," I retort irritably. "Maybe you haven't noticed but your goats don't milk themselves."

"Leave it for Kolfrosta and Katniss. They can cheer for us."

I roll my eyes. "Go wrestle the damned pony if you're so keen."

"He bites."

My harsh laugh bounces off of the house and stable walls, startling the chickens. "So do I!"

"Save that for Katniss, now," he chides me with a smirk.

I glower at him as Katniss looks up from where she's filling the pigs' water trough. She knows we're talking about her; she'd heard Káto say her name. "Go piss on a fence post," I suggest to him with a friendly smile.

"Peeta," he sing-songs. "You know you want to impress a certain bunkmate of yours." Grinning, he throws his arms wide. "I am happy to oblige."

"I'm sure you are."

"Are you really doing nothing but teaching her our words every evening?" he teases me in a too loud whisper. "Words only?"

"Yes," I grit out, hating his mockery of each peaceful moment I spend with Katniss tutoring her after the night-meal is done. I would not trade that closeness for anything in the world. Not even what he is suggesting. Katniss and I have spent the last fortnight thus before falling asleep on our benches. Learning words, trading smiles, crawling into our separate beds. Nothing more than that.

But with each passing night, Sigga's grumbly snores make the tension between us vibrate and rattle until the very air is as taut as the strings on a loom. Luckily, Birga and Hrefna are too young to notice this. Unfortunately, Káto and Kolfrosta are not. Despite the fact that their bed is kept in a private alcove, they seem unnaturally aware of my fascination with my, er, woman.

I confirm, "Words only."

"Such a shame… for the Norse tongue is quite splendid."

That's it. If he wants a damned wrestling match, I'll give him one.

"Don't you agree, Kolfrosta?" he hollers as I surge to my feet and reach for the belt holding my tunic down. "Couldn't Katniss do with a lesson on the charming cadence of the Northmen's tongue?"

She snorts as she wrings the laundry water out of a sopping tunic. "So long as your tongue isn't the one instructing her, yes. I highly recommend it."

My tunic hits the ground an instant before Káto's and then the game begins. I am angry enough to dump him on his stupid, fat head, but I hold back. He's waiting for my lunge. We've wrestled enough over the years that he knows my every weakness… but I also know his.

"Afraid to show me Kolfrosta's claw marks on your back?" I quip.

"Wouldn't want you to get jealous."

I rush forward but leap back at the last possible moment. Káto jerks unsteadily on his feet as he adjusts to my feint. That's when I crouch and slam my shoulder into his gut. I twist out of his grasping hands and he tumbles ass-over-ears, coming up dusty and laughing.

"That's more like it!" He claps his hands together. "Show me another! Come on!"

I clench my jaw and force my retort back down. Unlike Káto, I have no interest in drawing this out. Swatting his right hand aside, I clamp my fingers around his left wrist, spinning him around and shoving him to the ground. He rolls to his feet again.

"Nice one, Lover Boy. Very nice. Now, I'll give you one more try. Make it count. Katniss is watching."

I ignore that last jab, take a deep breath, step to the left, lift my arms and then I strike.

My hand curls around the back of his neck—

I grab his arm, step back and pivot—

Before his toes have hit the ground, I've got my arm around his throat and my knee in the middle of his back. He bucks up trying to throw me off, but there's nothing wrong with my balance.

"I can do this all day," I tell him. "Or until you stop acting like a spoiled brat."

"A spoiled brat, am I? You're the one with the new toy, aren't you?"

I almost bash him in the ear with my fist. "She's not a toy," I growl.

"Then stop fooling around and get serious," he orders.

I rear back. "The only fool here is you."

Káto huffs. "You used to have a sense of humor, Peeta."

"You used to have sense."

With a furious twist, he throws me off and I bring my hands up in time to counter his lunge. Dust rises around our feet, sweat drips down into my eyes. My left leg aches sharply, but the mangled muscles hold steady. Thrice more, I pin Káto to the ground. Kolfrosta calls for her husband to finish with his warm-up already. I'd be offended if I'd had enough energy for it. I don't. I laugh weakly instead.

"Yes. Let's see what you've got," I instigate. "Or do you really present such a lack of a challenge for me?"

I force myself to forget about our audience. I don't let myself think about fire-lit evenings spent with my shoulder brushing Katniss' as I try to tell her something else about Káto's family or this land or – sometimes – myself.

Last night, she had smiled at the picture I'd drawn in the ashes. "It is good," she'd said and then paused before sending me a reserved, sidelong glance. "You are good, Peeta."

I want to be good. She makes me want that in a way I never have before.

"Wake up!" Káto grunts as my back hits the hard-packed earth. Damn. I'd been daydreaming.

I roll and squirm out from under him, coughing and wiping impatiently at the sweat trickling down from my brow. I climb slowly and a little unsteadily to my feet, facing off with Káto yet again—

—and we both flinch under the splash of very cold water. I sputter, oddly satisfied to see Káto's equally soggy state as we both turn toward our attackers. Kolfrosta and Katniss stand shoulder-to-shoulder holding an empty bucket apiece.

"If you want to eat, take a bath," Kolfrosta states. She pivots on her heel and stalks into the house. I don't watch her go. I only have eyes for Katniss. Her gaze rakes down and then up my bare-chested, dripping, and dusty body. Her lips curl into a small smirk before she turns smartly and jogs after Káto's wife.

Immediately, all of the tension I'd burned off while wrestling with my idiot half-brother crashes back into me. I gawk at Katniss' swaying hips, and Káto dares to clap me on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Peeta. I tried."

"Tried what?" I cough out.

"To work you through that." He jerks his chin in the direction of the door through which Katniss had just disappeared. "You looked ready to burst."

"I've got it under control."

He nods slowly, accepting my words even if he doesn't believe me.

"Right. Let's wash up."

The bath house is full at this time of day – just before the night-meal – but I keep to myself. Everyone here has seen my leg, so I'm not particularly embarrassed by it, but I just don't have the energy to pretend to think of anything other than Katniss and the trust we are building between us… and the lust I fight with every breath I take.

I shouldn't want her. Not so long as that collar sits upon her neck.

I'll never save the coins needed to pay for her freedom. And, even if I did, would she choose to stay with me? How can she when she has a family in her homeland?

I am damned.

As I leave the bath house, however, Káto's voice calls out merrily, "She watches you, you know. When you're unaware."

I pretend I hadn't heard him. I pretend my heart doesn't pound in my chest at the thought. I cannot afford to hope because it will break me and I will not give the world another collared bastard child to toy with. I will not.