Well, you guys are gonna hate me. I feel like Peeta has been 'hijacked' in this situation, and the stress of pretending gets to him in this chapter. Don't worry, though, I like my Everlark happily ever after, so I promise some feels in the next one! Bring on your thoughts. I'm ready. Btw - this is sooooo unbeta'd. I literally wrote, did a quick spell check, and posted! 2 povs here, too. We start with Katniss!

PART 10

Walking into the large department store, Katniss took in the ornate surroundings as she followed Annie to customer service. They were there to add a few items to Annie's registry, and she had asked Katniss to accompany her since Finnick had a honey-do list to get done. Katniss hadn't wanted to come. She hated shopping and stores, especially the kind that assaulted its patrons with a sickly-sweet aroma as soon as they entered, and she had to choke back the gagging cough threatening to break forth.

Katniss had agreed to come for two reasons - one, Annie was her friend; and two, she needed a distraction until Peeta came home from work. They had agreed to 'talk', and Katniss had never felt so nervous before. She couldn't stay still enough to sit down, but standing up felt like it was draining her of all her energy, so she came with Annie to get her mind on something besides revealing to Peeta all of her terrifying feelings.

Annie retrieved the special gun the store used to allow customers to tag their wish list items, and they set off in the direction of the home department. "I need to pick a new china pattern," she explained. "The store called me yesterday to tell me that the South Hampton design I chose was discontinued so they can't guarantee they'll have it in stock." Katniss glanced around the spacious, cluttered department, eyeing some slightly more interesting things than china.

"I'll just be over here," she informed Annie, pointing to the baking section. It wasn't her thing, but it was Peeta's, and she couldn't help being pulled in that direction. She browsed thoughtfully through the displays, picking up items that reminded her of him; a handheld ravioli press, a cookie cutter set in 'happy chef' silhouettes, spatulas in various sizes and shapes, mini baking cups in the color orange that was Peeta's favorite. Katniss came across a recipe book called Alcohol Infused Cupcakes. Picking it up, she flipped through it, her stomach beginning to rumble at the delicious looking pictures. She suddenly had a desire to make cupcakes for a baker, as ludicrous as it sounded, and finding the book on sale decided she could use it to keep herself busy for the afternoon, and end up with something to give Peeta as a bonus, as well as help lead her into the conversation.

She imagined exactly how the dialogue would start - 'Katniss, we need to talk," he would say. "First, have a mini alcoholic cupcake or two, sweetie," she would say back, popping one into his mouth and hoping it would make him more agreeable to her confession. She chuckled at the silliness of her thoughts. Yes, alcohol was indeed on the menu for tonight, she concluded.

"Whatcha got there?" Annie asked, coming up behind Katniss.

"Just a cupcake book. I thought I'd try my hand at domesticity," she answered, blushing. Katniss felt goofy admitting any of this to Annie. She was still coming to terms with her feelings for Peeta, and she hadn't really said much to her friend on the subject. Of course, Annie was so busy planning her wedding and her future as a married woman that she hadn't asked, and Katniss was completely fine with it. The less she had to say to anyone else besides Peeta, the better off she considered herself.

"That's so adorable!" Annie gushed, clutching at her heart with a wistful look on her face. Katniss smiled to herself, snatching up the little orange baking cups before they left. "I need to stop by the liquor store on the way home."

The kitchen was the worst possible place Katniss could be. She actually wanted to build a house sans kitchen. That would be her perfect abode. Of course, that particular house wouldn't include a particular blue-eyed baker, seeing as how that was his favorite room.

Katniss located a spatula and began stirring the 'wet' ingredients. She didn't understand why all the ingredients, wet or dry, couldn't just go in the stupid bowl at the same time. It would all end up in there together anyway, so why wait?

"Slowly combine dry ingredients," she said to herself, reading from the recipe. She'd had to set something heavy on top of the book, trying to flatten out the spine to keep the pages from flipping closed. That, combined with her disorganized style of baking and her aggressive nerves, made for an entirely different kind of recipe - disaster. Reaching around for the bowl of blended, white powders, Katniss knocked over the bottle of tequila she'd used to prop the book open, sending it toppling towards the floor. In her haste to catch it before it broke into pieces, she elbowed the wet ingredients, turning the bowl over and spilling the oil, tequila, sugar, and eggs down the side of the cabinets.

She cursed quietly, surveying her situation, unbroken tequila bottle in her hand. At least she still had that. She tried to step around the greasy mess on the tile to grab a roll of paper towels, but her short legs couldn't quite make it over the growing puddle of mix. Katniss slipped, her feet coming out from under her, but not before she tried to right herself, her fingertips grazing the lip of the dry ingredient bowl. She fell to the ground, yelping as her butt connected with tile, legs splayed in different directions. Katniss was frozen in shock wondering what she should do. In situations like these, it was almost incomprehensible where to start, and only seconds later, she felt something light raining down on her, then saw a waterfall of white cascading down in front of her eyes. The dry ingredient mixing bowl had turned on its side, allowing the baking powders their freedom.

Tears of frustration and anger threatened to flow, and the contents of what was left in the bottle called to her. Why had she thought she could do this? It was so simple, and Peeta made it look effortless. But she wasn't Peeta, wasn't even fit to be his fake fiancee, much less a real one. How could she tell him she had sincere feelings for him if she had nothing at all to offer him? Girlfriends and wives weren't supposed to be slobs who didn't clean their rooms and only did laundry when wearing their last pair of clean underwear, or incompetent in the kitchen, unable to complete even the simplest recipe. Even if Finnick were right, she thought as she unscrewed the cap on the bottle and turned it up to her lips, and Peeta did have feelings for her, there would be no way it would last when he realized all of her flaws.

The door slammed behind Peeta and he jumped. He hadn't meant to shut it that hard. He must be more anxious than he thought about his conversation with Katniss. Work was over, he was home and if her car parked outside was evidence, so was she. He started towards the staircase when he saw the empty living room, then stopped abruptly upon smelling something very…. sterile? Someone must have majorly disinfected the kitchen in the last, oh, five minutes or so for it to be so strong.

Peeta stepped into the kitchen, eyes wide as saucers at the scene - a dirty floor with what his baker's eyes could only determine was a ruined batter, the counter tops strewn with all manner of baking products and wares, and in the middle of it all sat Katniss, dark hair turned as gray as her eyes from what he was pretty sure was flour. His eyes were immediately drawn to the mostly empty bottle in her hand.

"Katniss, what is that?" he questioned, pointing to her hand. "What's going on?" He hadn't thought he'd come home to this. Normal Katniss he was prepared for, but after the long day he'd had, drunk Katniss was another story. He would take her any way he could get her, but if she hadn't been in a good mood before she'd begun whatever solitary drinking game she'd chosen, then this wouldn't turn out well. Peeta could tell by the scowl on her face what mood had started this off.

"Who you are to ashk me whash goin' on? I'm a grown big pershon, Mishter Mellark!" Her scowl turned to a giggle when she said his last name, and he supposed she was trying to point at him, but she missed by a longshot, her finger aimed more at the microwave across the room. "Do know you how closhe your lasht name ish to malarky?" She laughed more. "I think Ima give you a new nishname."

Peeta exhaled a disappointed breath. He had just cleaned up the bakery and now he had to come home and clean up Katniss, too, when all he'd wanted to do was talk to her about his feelings. It had been a dreadful excitement that had built up in him all afternoon. Would she say her feelings were the same? Would she need time to think about it? Would she crush his heart with a confession that she'd only ever seen them as lifelong friends? Peeta had preferred to think about the first two, and mostly ignored the last possibility. But now it seemed as if none of them would happen tonight.

He walked towards Katniss, ire beginning to develop within. Tired and now annoyed, not a good combination, he grabbed at the bottle and helped her up less gently than he should have.

"Ow!" Katniss cried out. "Can'sht you be nishe to me, Malarky?" The new nickname and the grin that accompanied it annoyed Peeta further until he had no care for what he was saying.

"You mean like you've been nice to me? Pulling me into this engagement that I almost allowed myself to believe could be real?" The look on her face was a cross between confusion and pain, and it hurt Peeta to think he'd put it there, but not enough to stop him. Katniss was going to find out his feelings after all, even if she wasn't in the state of mind to process them fully.

"You knew I would do anything for you, so instead of being truthful with your feelings about Gale you took the 'Peeta' way out," he said, trying to keep his voice from rising with pent up frustration. "'Peeta, pretend to be my date', 'Peeta, put your arm around me', 'Peeta, give me a kiss', 'Peeta, pretend you love me and want to marry me'," he scolded her. "Did it ever occur to you that I do love you? That I do want my arms around you and to be able to kiss you anytime I please?" He yanked her closer, until their noses were inches apart and the scent of the alcohol on her breath was so close it could have intoxicated him as well. He lowered his voice to a pained whisper. "What if I do want to marry you?"

Katniss's body felt like a rigid, frozen block of ice under Peeta's firm grasp. Her face was morphing from hurt to hatred, but she hadn't budged from his grip. Peeta imagined it was because everything was spinning and if she pulled away she would face plant on the floor.

Before Peeta could comprehend what was happening, Katniss's palm collided with his cheek in a loud smack. He let go of her and raised his hand to feel heat surfacing on his skin. "That's pretty good aim considering your state." He hadn't meant to continue to belittle her, but the pain he was feeling wouldn't allow him to back down. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she spat out a few sobering words. She'd never spoken to him like that. Then again, he'd never dreamed anything like what he'd said would come out of his mouth towards her.

"DON'T talk to me ever again," Katniss screamed at him before she haphazardly ascended the steps, tripping a few times and having to use her hands to steady her. Peeta was right behind her. Even if she didn't want him there, he certainly wasn't going to risk her taking a fall and getting hurt. He followed her into the bedroom, watching as she crossed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Peeta waited on the bed for half an hour before she came out, but as soon as Katniss saw him there, she turned around and locked herself back in. He waited another thirty minutes before he decided he would pack up some of his things and sleep over at Rye's for a few nights. Hopefully she would calm down by then and they could clear everything up. It may not end romantically, but Peeta already felt acutely the loss of his best friend.

I swear to you, oh most loyal followers of this fake engagement drivel, the ending will rock your socks off! I've got the feels after this little fight. They may have had a super hot kiss if Katniss hadn't slapped him in the face. Oops. Who wanted an angry kiss, huh? Who thought I was going there? Frustrated passion in a dirty kitchen... dang. I may have to edit this. As always, thank you for reading and please, oh please, let me know how greatly I disappointed you! I know most of you are ready for them to get together already, but I just had to throw in one more curve ball. Pbg