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SilverMistKey… You're home! Safe and Sound I hope…:)

"Ooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! Fuck, Portia!

Apparently, she's "tidying up" my eyebrows, but her tweezers catching the skin of my eyelid causing a long howl to escape from my mouth. I know she doesn't mean to, I know that it's an accident, but after an hour and a half of preening and plucking, I'm tired and sore from blood and hair loss. And my teeth hurt from the bleach and ultra violet rays that claim to "make for a dazzling smile".

Portia grunts, her own eyebrows knitted together, concentration furrowed on her brow, whilst a member of the prep team begins to snip at my hair, the long curls falling to the floor below. Goodbye Labrador hair.

"Just hold still Peeta! The more you fidget, the harder it is to get this right!"

"Sorry…"

My voice is low and apologetic, and she looks at me with a light smile, her eyes light and knowing; I'm forgiven for complaining.

Even with the flat end of the tweezers plucking away, I have to remember that I still have the better end of the deal when it comes to being prepped for the cameras. Katniss told me that they had removed all the hair from her legs, underarms and other places for the Games. Half an hour passes before I'm showed my reflection in a mirror. Portia smiles over my shoulder, proud of her handiwork as my eyes scan what is now my face.

"I'm sure a certain girl will notice what a dapper, young gentleman staring back at you, Peeta… even if you don't know who he is yet…"

Wow. I'm not too bothered over my looks, I'm not that vain. But I do look good…really good. My jaw is clean-shaven, all traces of stubble or facial hair is gone. Although my curls are gone, short hair suits me too, my sideburns at mid ear level, neat and tidy with the short back and sides. Fuck, even my eyes are twinkling more than usual, deep sapphire blue adding some soul to the shell of Peeta Mellark.

Portia dismisses me from the chair where I'm held captive and I slip to my room where a new suit is laid out across the bed. It's a mix of olive and grey, with a white shirt and a simple black tie. At the foot of the bed is a new pair of shiny, black leather lace up shoes, polished so well that I can practically see my face in the toes of them. I change quickly, throwing the old pyjama bottoms and t shirt to the floor, catching a glimpse of myself in the floor length mirror beside my closet.

"There you are, Mr Mellark!"

I imitate Caesar Flickerman's superior and condemning voice, and I'm instantly brought back to the Capitol on the night of the interviews. It was the first time that I wore a proper suit; elegant and refined, fitting me well in the chest and the plains of my back. The crowd, the smell of roses, Katniss' dress, my confession… That was real; I knew that the plan was to keep her alive, based on my confession to Caesar. I quickly shrug that feeling, whatever it is, away into the back of my mind for now, admiring myself one last time before I go over to the Everdeen's house.

My eyes sadden a little; all this hate, this brimming emotion that's been swelling in my body has resonated into nothing but tiredness and regret. And yet it feels wrong to let myself try again with Katniss, to leave myself so open to attack when now I've been given the weapons to wound her with. I've shaken off the 'innocent, loved up' Peeta and have become a harsher, more brutal person, but it doesn't sit right with me. Nothing sits right with me as my feet climb the steps to her front porch, slowing down for a minute to get my thoughts in check before going in.

I'm Peeta Mellark, joint winner of the 74th Hunger Games. I've loved Katniss Everdeen, (the girl who also won the Hunger Games with me) since I was five years old. I nearly died, and I lost my leg. Katniss saved me. She lied about loving me. She used the romance to get food and survive. I believed that she loved me. She didn't. I hated her for it. I hated her so much that tried to forget her with alcohol. I tried to forget her when I slept with Madge Undersee to see if I could feel anything for anyone else. Turns out that I can't. The Victory Tour is coming in a matter of days. I said that I'd try to rebuild our relationship, but I don't know if I can let her in, knowing that she's already hurt me once before. But the question of how I feel about her now is still confusing me, I can't find the words to say it.

I turn the handle and take a deep breath. Mrs Everdeen greats me and ushers me into the kitchen, food and drink are placed on the table as I sit down.

"Mom!...Will you make me a sandwich or something please? Cinna won't let me move in this dress!"

Mrs Everdeen looks angrily from the washing up to look at me, a smile forming on her mouth.

"Peeta…would you mind? I'm just busy at the moment"

"Sure, no problem"

I get up, filling a plate to take to Katniss. The sight of her makes my jaw come undone. She stands on a podium, a long topaz coloured dress that nips in at the waist and splays out a little at the hip, the hem line hitting her just above the knee. She doesn't notice me as I creep in; Cinna is behind her, altering a strap on her shoulder.

"We're gonna have to let this out a bit in the bust Katniss, you've grown since last time"

"ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?"

Cinna's eyes positively widen with horror as she stares at him. He knows better than to answer that question. We both do.

"NO! I'm merely saying that with the improvements in your diet, you're finally filling out like a lady. Even your hips…there five inches bigger than when you came back from the Arena. A size 10- 12 is perfectly decent and normal for a 17 year old girl. You've got curves in all the right places, is what I'm saying, Sweetheart… Besides, a man likes a curvaceous woman…it's like a biological impulse for us"

Cinna's eyes catch mine and he winks at me, causing the corners of my mouth to curl as I move into the room.

"You're right about that, Cinna"

Taking full advantage of her plea for me to try, I rest my hand on Katniss' lower back before squeezing her backside as I hold the plate out for her. She bends down and politely pecks me on the cheek, before slapping me away playfully. Her eyes are killing me now with a death stare, but deep down she's grinning at how good we are at acting, and maybe she liked me touching her again…maybe.

"You noticed, Peeta?"

"Sweetheart….it's a bit hard not to when I'm around you all the time…A man can only dream..."

Cinna smiles mischievously at me as Katniss continues to give me evils while she eats.

After twenty minutes of altercations, Cinna finally leaves us alone in the small room. Carefully stepping down and cautiously lifting the skirt of her dress, Katniss sits down on the small sofa at the opposite side of the room. The silence between us is short lived as she sits arms crossed, eyes playful and pensive.

"So…"

I lean back, waiting for her to speak, hoping that she isn't going to castrate me for that stunt I pulled earlier.

"Cinna told me that the cameras will want an interview from the both of us in a couple of hours…that gives us time to talk about how we're going to pull this off…have you got any ideas?"

I remember that in the Capitol, they had interviewed us as if we were the two luckiest people in the world, having escaped the Arena with the person we 'loved'. Apart from last night and that shouting match encounter, we haven't really talked or even touched each other. That was too much, but the realisation that rebellion will spark if we don't convince Snow or the other districts crosses my mind.

"I have an idea"

Hobbling over to where she is, I sit beside her.

"How about we practice…sitting like this, I mean…and if you're lucky, I might even hold your hand" I add sarcastically, grinning.

"So that's how it works? If I'm lucky I can hold your hand, yet you have unspoken permission to grab my ass anytime you feel like it? Yeah right, Mellark, coz THAT'S such an even trade off!"

"You totally loved it"

A look of pretended anger crosses her face, causing lines on her forehead to form.

"So that's how it's going to be, is it, Everdeen?"

My hand drapes slowly around her shoulders, testing the waters for both of our reactions. It always seems so much more difficult when I'm working it out in my head. But this seems to be alright for both of us. Her voice is quiet, cautious.

"Would it be alright if I did this?"

Her head nestles into the crook of my neck, the warm air of her breath tickling my skin. It takes some adjusting, as if we're both badly oiled robots that have rusted in the rain, but it gradually becomes more pliable, more comfortable. I can feel her smiling as she breathes me in, before my other arm sneaks around, searching. Now it's time to scare her… just as payback for the ass grabbing comment. I did enjoy myself though; it'd been so long since I'd actually touched her, no spark of electricity or any poetic, flowery shit, but real touching, real feeling. My hand finds her thigh and in one swift movement I pull her so that she sits in my lap, slightly turned so that she isn't putting pressure on my dodgy leg. There's a faint squeak and a shrill of protest as I lift her, but it's in vain. Her eyes are poised to kill, looking into mine, my smile crooked before my other hand clamps down on her backside, grabbing it firmly. Her eyes widen, before leaning up into my ear, her eyes lashes tickling me.

"Judging by the way your hand hasn't left, I'd say that you love this too, Mellark"

I can hear the sarcasm, dripping from her words.

"Also…is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just really, really pleased to feel me again?"

The colour flushes from my face as she turns around so that her backside brushes lightly against the increasing bulge in my pants as she rises.

"Well as much as I've enjoyed this, I need to find Prim. If you want to continue "practicing" later, come find me…who knows, you might get lucky next time, Peeta…I might even let you "hold my hand" again"

She winks at me with a grin before disappearing out the door, leaving me even more dazed and confused than usual. Whatever happened in the Arena was nothing compared to the dangerous game that is a woman's mind, especially one as complicated and intricate as Katniss Everdeen.