Chapter 11

Here's a nice long chapter for y'all to make up for my absence. Might be a little too long, but I just kept going. When we left off, K & P were snowed in at his apartment and finally did the deed…

I leaned my forehead against the chilled glass of the bus window, watching as shopkeepers and husbands attempted to dig themselves out of the pounds of snow that had started two days before. Although the city still laid in a white heap of heavy powder, the city had been able to get the major streets cleared that morning and the buses and El were up and running again, albeit at a slow pace. Snow, of course, had announced via the radio that one inclement weather day was enough, and ordered everyone to come to work the next morning, "so that the wonderful production quality of Capital Electric could continue with stop." All the Capital Electric employees in the neighborhood were slowly making their way to work this morning, despite some of their houses still being buried up to the windowsills, despite their young children being left alone from school closings. I snickered to myself at the irony; even the snow couldn't stop Snow.

Peeta had managed to get me home late the night before. We had spent the day in bed together, alternating between sleeping and talking, and sometimes just lying in each other's arms, our bodies molded to one another, breathing into each other's faces. Afterwards, I sat in his kitchen, wool blankets around my naked body, as I watched him bake bread and buttery cookies in his boxers and bare feet. He whispered sweet words in my ear each time he passed me to reach for ingredients, and each time my heart burst.

We made love twice more that day, each time his body moving slowly above mine, and by the end I could barely feel myself from the waist down. Peeta had turned my body into warm buzzing jelly, yet I ached, both physically and from want for more, and I had to clench my teeth so he wouldn't notice me walking funny. I wondered if Peeta felt the same, if his body betrayed itself and kept asking for more when it ought to stop. It was as though he had cracked open the door to this wonderful pleasure and now that it was opened, I would never be completely satisfied.

Although I wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped up in him and his apartment forever, I had to get back to Prim and I knew Snow would fire any employee who dared not arrive at work the next day. So by evening, Peeta bundled me up in some of his warmer clothes and an old overcoat, and we silently plowed our way through the snow mounds back to my house. When we arrived at the house, Prim was still at the Hawthornes and my mother was still at the hospital, as if the snow had stopped time in our neighborhood. Maybe the last 24 hours with Peeta really had been a dream.

I thought about asking Peeta to stay the night at our house – on the couch, of course, unless I wanted to hear Prim making smooching noises at me for the next month. But he had insisted that he needed to get to the bakery early in the morning, and he went straight there, to crash on the cot in the back and be ready to start baking at 4 am. I knew then how much the bakery meant to him, even if it was technically owned by his horrible mother who was still not on speaking terms with him.

It was hard to say goodbye. I felt like I had gotten a taste of life with Peeta, of a life cooking and dancing in the kitchen, of eating his delicious treats until I felt my stomach bulge, of wrapping myself up in him and feeling him inside of me over and over. I had turned into one of those girls that I used to roll my eyes at; essentially, I had become Annie, head over heels for a fella, silly smile on my face whenever I thought of him. I slept that night wearing the soft gray sweater he had given me to wear home, smelling the cinnamon and musk that was so distinctly him.

I smiled to myself and drew a circle against the frosted glass with my finger as I remembered seeing him again that morning. He was there, waiting for me at the bus stop with a hot chocolate in one hand and a full sack in the other, greeting me with a kiss. "I was worried about you all last night," he told me. "I wanted to make sure you got here ok." He handed me the bag and cup and kissed my forehead. "How 'bout I stop by tonight?" I nodded and blushed, unable to speak a word as he stood in front of me, and I buried my smile into my scratchy scarf. He grinned widely and we stood there for a moment in the frigid air, taking each other in and smiling shyly. I couldn't help but picture the Peeta had seen yesterday – broad chest scattered with blond hairs and freckles, arm muscles tensing under my palms, his throat gulping the time I dared to run my lips behind his ears. Seeing the twinkle in his eye made me wonder if he was having the same thoughts.

He cleared his throat and it brought me back to reality. "I better get back. Have a good day at work." He gave me another quick kiss on the lips and then jogged across the slush back into the bakery. He turned around and gave me another wave goodbye just before disappearing. I smiled to myself and took a tiny sip of the hot drink. Somehow, I had a feeling that I would be getting a treat each morning at the bus stop from now on.

I was roused out of my daydream by a large man sitting gruffly down next to me, making the bus seat bounce up. He reeked of scotch at 7:00 in the morning, and I sighed, knowing exactly who it was.

"Morning, sweetheart. Is Loverboy still trying to win you over with chocolate?"

"At least I don't have to Irish it up in order to get through the day," I replied, refusing to turn towards him.

"Well, keep it up. Before you know it, you'll be waddling around with a Baby Baker in that belly, demanding more and more sweets until your waistband bursts."

I whipped my head towards Haymitch and scowled at him. "There will be no Baby Bakers in my future, thank you very much."

Haymitch chuckled. "Why not? I thought all you girls wanted to get married and pump out a bunch of kids."

I cringed at Haymitch's choice of words, and shrugged my shoulders, taking another sip of my hot chocolate. "I'm not like other girls." Inside, however, I was scrambling. Why hadn't I thought about babies before? I vaguely knew that babies came from doing, well, you know, and Peeta and I had done it. Could I get pregnant from just those few times? I silently reminded myself to talk to Annie, since I knew she and Finnick had been doing the exact same thing for months now, and no babies had appeared on the horizon.

"Yeah, I've noticed." I looked up at Haymitch, trying to gage whether or not he was being sarcastic. "The way you two were sizing each other up, I'll give you 2 months before you're in the family way. I know that look. That's the look of two people who have seen each other naked."

I felt my face blush instantly and turned away. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Haymitch snorted. "Do whatever you want on your own time, but be careful. Hasn't your mother ever told you about not buying the cow when the milk is free?"

I sighed and continued looking out the window, pretending to ignore him, but secretly continued to worry. Not only about babies, but about Peeta too. What if he didn't want to "buy" me later? Did I want to be bought? What does that even mean? Against my better judgment, I had fallen in love with him, and he said he loved me, but still…What was a guy like him doing with a girl like me?

Haymitch snapped my attention back. "Listen Sweetheart, we need to get going on our little 'project.' What are people saying in the diner?"

I sighed as my mind returned to reality. "Not much. No one mentions the union; no one. But people are pretty pissed off. Too many hours, too many pay cuts, no overtime. Management is breathing down everyone's neck." I paused for a moment, keeping my voice low. "Why do you think no one trusts the union anymore?"

"Politics," Haymitch replied without skipping a beat. "It's all politics. Snow knows that, and he used it to his advantage. The last few union presidents before the war were pushed in by Snow, and they all had links to the Mob. They used the union to threaten people, make them practically give them their entire paycheck for fear of something happening to their house, their kids, stuff like that. Snow loved it; he was getting huge kickbacks from his connections, and in the meantime all of his workers were too chickenshit to stand up to these Mob bullies and were never going to strike. That and his political connections made him unstoppable. Then the war started, and none of the national union leaders would allow a strike to go through anyways, so for the past four years, we've been stuck. Snow can do pretty much whatever he wants and there's nothing we can do about it."

I thought about what he said. I knew that the next town over, Cicero, was just a few blocks away from Capital, and yes, the whole town was notoriously run by what was often called The Outfit by the papers. And I had seen several gangster-type guys while working at The Hob with Darius; it always seemed odd to me that Darius, the scrubby acne-ridden kid from our block, was fixing fancy cars for men in three-piece suits who carried around an awful large amount of cash. Darius always put his fingers up to his lips and winked at me whenever one of these men gave him a wad of bills, and I was never allowed to work on those cars. Darius took them to the back and did God knows what to them. But I already knew better; in our area, the golden rule was you keep your head down and your mouth shut.

Haymitch continued talking. "So, yes, we have a union, on paper, but it might as well not exist at all. We have to start new. This new president, Coin, is something else. He's got connections all over the city, and he won't lift one pretty little finger to help us working guys out. He's corrupt as they get, and practically in bed with Snow. We need to start a new union. And I need you to help get recruits."

"Haymitch, what makes you think that anyone is going to listen to me, let alone get recruited by a teenage girl?"

Haymitch sighed, and for once, his yellowed face was serious. "You have no idea, do you, the effect you can have on people." It wasn't a question, and Haymitch shook his head at me. "People remember, Katniss. They know what happened to your father. He was a good man. Everyone knew him. He was big in the movement back in the day. Back before the Crash, people knew him. They know you too. You walk around like you think you're invisible, but you're not. Trust me, if you ask, they will listen to you." He dug around in his pockets and slyly took a big gulp out of his silver flask.

Now it comes out. The real reason that Haymitch wanted me – for my family history. I knew my father was a big union supporter, and went to meetings, but not like what Haymitch was describing. Suddenly, the men who hung around our kitchen when I was a child made sense; they were union men, and my father, apparently, was some sort of top guy. But what Haymitch was asking for was dangerous. If Snow and this Coin person were really that connected, then I would be putting myself and my family in jeopardy. Around the neighborhood, I'd seen enough men's arms and legs broken, their cars damaged, even a few "accidental" house fires to know what happens when you cross the Mob.

I looked around the bus. It was crammed with Capital employees, all staring ahead out the bus driver's window, wrinkles and dark circles around their eyes. Their overcoats were shabby and patched up, with different colored elbows and too short sleeves. No one here had to worry about their waistline, for everyone skipped at least one meal a day. It was common practice, to go hungry, to spare more for the children, to show up at work each day, over and over again, dreading the day when your body or your mind would give out and your children would have to take you on as an extra mouth to feed. It was the way things were in the Seam, how they'd always been. Even during the war, when paychecks and hours were good, we all were just barely getting by, just barely making those three square meals a day. And now…The price of just living day to day was hardly affordable then and Snow had his grip firmly on the neighborhood, slowly crushing us.

I knew that my father had wanted something better for me. For Prim. For our mother. For all of us.

"What do you want me to do?" I whispered.

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When I showed Sae the union authorization cards that Haymitch had given me, she slowly nodded her head and took one. "Don't get caught, honey. The last thing I need is to be short-staffed again," she told me as she signed her name and handed the card back to me. I put the card in my apron pocket and turned around to start making the coffee.

The diner was busy that day, everyone looking for a warm cup of coffee on their break. My technique was simple: if no supervisors were around, I would pull out a card and slide it across the table while filling up their coffee mug. "If you're interested, get this back to me. It's from Haymitch. And I'm Katniss Everdeen." I repeated the words that Haymitch told me, and waited for them to either sign the card or not touch it at all. More often than not, they signed the card, but many of them shook their head sadly while doing so, or told me that I was crazy under their breath. By mid-afternoon, I was starting to highly doubt Haymitch's claim that of the "effect" I would have.

Bridget didn't seem too impressed by my attempts to recruit, either. "You're wasting your time. Nothing changes in this place, nothing. You might as well quit," she smacked her every present gum in her mouth as she lectured me.

"At least I'm trying to do something about it."

"No, I mean, quit Capital. If you don't like, go find something else to do. But don't ruin it for the rest of us. Some of us need this job."

I stepped in front of her. "Are you suggesting that I don't need this job?" I could feel the heat rising into my cheeks.

"Some of us don't have a handsome baker to take advantage of." Her pointed face glared back at me and it took all of my strength not to slap her right there. I clenched my fists and took a step closer to her, our faces almost touching, and despite her height over me, I saw her waver for a moment.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" I countered.

"Girls, knock it off," Sae yelled from the other side of the diner. Not wanting to upset the one union ally I had in the diner, I backed off and turned towards the back kitchen. I heard Bridget sniff and mutter, "That's what I thought," as I walked away.

I slid into the small set of table and chairs that Sae placed in the back for our rare breaks and put my head in my arms. Haymitch and Bridget may have been pushing my buttons, but I wanted nothing more than to escape, to quit this job and run away to someplace warm with Peeta. We could find a little town out west somewhere, somewhere where it never snowed and the sun was always out, open up a bakery, and wake up every morning in each other's arms. I wanted to run away from all my worries, all my responsibilities, and just be young and free. I felt a single tear go down my cheek at the thought.

A gentle hand on my shoulder jolted me out of my thoughts. It was Rue, who cocked her head to the side to try to meet my eyes. "Hey, you ok?"

"Yeah, it was just, stupid Foxface and her attitude." I wiped the tear from my cheek and sat up to face her.

"Foxface?"

"It's what I call Bridget."

Rue laughed. "Yeah, I can see that. Her pointy little nose is always getting stuck in other people's business." I laughed and wiped at my nose. "Just ignore her. She's just mad because her boyfriend's been dragging her along for years now with no proposal."

"Do you blame him?" I said sarcastically and Rue giggled in response.

She sat in the empty seat across from him. "So, is it true? About you and some baker?"

I sighed loudly and threw my hands up. "Does the whole world know about it?"

Rue smiled. "There's not much to do around here except gossip. So, is it true?"

I smiled into my lap. "Yes. He's great, actually. He's romantic and thoughtful and…"

"You love him, don't you?"

"I think I love him. I hope he feels the same, but I don't know. He says he does…"

"Are you going to marry him?"

I thought about it for a moment. "To be honest, I don't know. I never wanted to get married before, but maybe, with him. I just don't want to lose myself in being a wife, you know? The idea of marriage and kids scares me."

Rue nodded. "You'll know if it's right or not. I did." And she extended her left hand to show me a small round diamond on her ring finger.

"Rue, I didn't know you were engaged! Who's the guy?"

She smiled and tilted her head to the right, where one of the cooks, Thresh, waved a spatula in my direction. I gasped at Rue. "I had no idea! You two are very secretive."

"Don't want to give them yet another reason to get rid of us," Rue smirked and crossed her arms.

"Are you worried about your jobs?" I asked.

"Isn't everyone?" Thresh said deeply from his side of the kitchen.

I cleared my throat and reached into my apron for two more union cards. "Listen," I said with my voice lower, "This guy Haymitch is starting to get the union back up and running. We're trying to protect the workers, make sure that people keep their jobs and earn some decent wages. I'm trying to get people to sign these cards, and if we get enough signed, we have the law on our side. What you think? Will you sign?" I asked shyly.

Rue and Thresh looked at the cards in their hands and then up at each other blankly. Thresh starting laughing heartily while Rue elbowed him in the side. "Yeah, sure, we'll sign," Rue said as she reached for a pen.

"What's-what's so funny?" I asked, confused. It wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting.

"Nothing, it's just-" Rue started, but Thresh interrupted her.

"I doubt any union will care about our jobs. Most white folk think we took their jobs to start with."

It took me a moment to process what he was saying. "Wait, you think the union won't support you because you're black?" Rue and Thresh both stared blankly at me, as if this was fairly obvious. "Well, it's not going to be like that. This union will be different. Everyone will be included."

Thresh shook his head and handed me his card before turning back to the grill. "Whatever you say," he laughed.

Rue slapped him lightly on the shoulder as he walked past her. "Don't listen to him, I think the new union sounds like a good idea. It's just…you have to know that a lot of people don't like us working here. I mean, it's not like it was in the South, but it's not exactly like the welcoming committee met us at the door."

I was vaguely aware of some people not liking the newer black workers that had come up from the South during the war, and certainly no one would have allowed them to move into the neighborhood without starting another world war. But I didn't think Haymitch would be like that; he seemed to want to protect all of the workers, and he didn't say anything to me about distinguishing between white and black.

"Come to the meeting, after the New Year. I promise, things will be different." I heard Thresh snort behind us, but I ignored him. Now I just had to make sure Haymitch fulfilled my promise.

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I had to stay late that night, trying to make up for what everyone now referred to as our Coriolanus Snow Day. When I got off the bus that night, I looked around for Peeta, but the lights of the bakery were already dark and I started the walk home disappointed. After I walked about a few blocks and left the merchant side of the neighborhood behind me, Haymitch sidled up beside me, and I quietly passed the day's stack of signed cards to him to put in his pocket. He nodded once and went to cross the street. "Same thing tomorrow, sweetheart," he said over his shoulder as he headed nonchalantly towards the other side of the street.

The snow was loud and icy by this time of night, and I hunched down into my overcoat for extra warmth. I had several blocks to walk, and by the time I got into my block, the rest of the Capital employees had disappeared behind me into their homes. My block was almost at the end of the neighborhood limits, right before rows of industry and filth hit the end of residential life, and it gave the whole block a look of black dust and fog that lasted all winter and summer long.

As I crunched through the gray-speckled snow, I allowed my thoughts to drift to Peeta and what had happened the day before. I supposed that I was officially his girlfriend, or his "sweetheart," as he once called me, but the term was already ruined for me by a certain drunk. But…now what? Would Peeta and I do that all the time? Not that I would mind. I allowed my mind to drift to our actions from the day before, and I felt the wetness start to grow between my legs. But…what if he got sick of me now that I was so willing? Was he really in love with me? I mean, it was me, scrawny and poor, stuck with a negligent mother and a sister to raise. I sighed a white puff of air into the cold; what did I have to offer a great guy like Peeta? Maybe his mind really was gone after the war.

And then there was that whole baby thing. I hadn't taken any time to process that possibility. I was sure that there were ways to prevent babies from coming, but…surely I couldn't get pregnant from just those few times? When my father was still alive, I knew that my parents were together regularly, from the nights when my mother would put on a little extra perfume and I would hear them click the lock on their bedroom door. And they only had Prim and myself after years of marriage – surely babies took a certain amount of time. And such babies were not in my plans for the future.

By the time I reached my street, I vowed to speak to Peeta about everything. About what we were and what it all meant. About our future and how mine didn't involve marriage or children. About how much I cared for him but that he deserved better. About how he should find a girl that could give him all that and so much more.

Right before I went to open the door, I peeked through the front window, surprised to see all the lights on. And then I saw Peeta, stirring something on the stove while my mother and Prim sat on the kitchen table, laughing and chatting with him while the radio serenaded in the background. He looked like he fit in with them so well – three blonde heads enjoying a warm home-cooked meal. He was smiling and seemed so...happy. I wanted to suck in the moment and keep him there forever, where nightmares never happen and the war and Snow never happened and we could just be.

And in that moment, all of my worries and prepared words for Peeta were left on the cold front porch.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

A hour later, my stomach was full to the brim, and I sopped the bottom of my plate with a piece of bakery bread to catch the remnants of sauce pooling near the edges. Peeta's dinner was voted delicious by everyone, and even though he blushed deeply, the tell-tale smile on his face told me that he was swelling with pride. And rightfully so; as soon as the smell from the kitchen hit me as I walked in, I knew I was a goner. He had made chicken and cheese dumplings, with small red potatoes doused with butter and herbs, and brought a fresh loaf of soft rye from the bakery, which I topped with more softened butter. Prim joked that I was trying to make up for the lack of butter throughout the war, and I smiled at her with my cheeks full of food while I kicked her under the table. But the mood inside our little house was jovial, relaxed, for the first time in a long time. If Peeta kept feeding us like this, I thought to myself, I wouldn't be able to fit into any more of my dresses.

Prim and I helped Peeta clean up when my mother announced that she was going to retire for the evening, but halfway through, the phone rang. "I'll get it!" Prim yelled as she leaped across the kitchen, skidding in towards the pantry where we kept the phone. "Hello?" she squeaked into the phone. "It's for me," she announced, placing her hand over the mouth of the phone before shutting the door behind her completely.

Peeta looked over at me with a confused look on his face. I laughed, "Don't mind Prim, she's got a terrible affliction. Teenager-itis."

Peeta laughed in return and grabbed a hold of my waist from behind me while I continued to dry plates. "I bet you were adorable as a teenager. Wearing that little plaid skirt and swooning over Frank Sinatra."

I snorted and continued drying. "Hardly. I didn't exactly have time to 'swoon' over celebrities. Besides, I'm technically still a teenager."

"Nineteen is hardly a teenager. My mother was already married with a kid at nineteen." Peeta started placing soft kisses on the side of my neck and as much as I wanted to give in to him, I turned around. Peeta didn't seem to notice and continued his attack against my throat, his hands tightening around my hips.

"Peeta, we should talk."

He stopped moving his mouth, and I felt his body stiffen. "OK. What's wrong?"

I turned around and saw that his face was serious for the first time tonight. It made my stomach churn to see that I might be upsetting him. But I had to get this out. "Nothing, it's just-"

"Do you regret yesterday? Because I know it all happened so quickly, and I don't want you to think that I'm that kind of guy. I'm not. I really care about you, Katniss. I love you. And we don't have to do that again, if it makes you uncomfortable. I'll do whatever you want. Honest." He was talking a mile a minute, nervously running his hands through his hair.

I placed my hand on his chest to calm him. "No, it's not that. I-I wanted to, yesterday. And I still do. It's just-" Like always, I was having a difficult time finding the right words.

Peeta let out a big gulp of air that he had been holding and lifted my chin with his finger. "It's just what?"

He was forcing me to look up at him, but I couldn't. I stared at the tops of my shoes instead and whispered what I wanted to tell him. "I don't want to have children."

"What?" he asked.

I knew it. This is where he leaves, I thought. This is where he ends it with me. I took a deep breath and repeated myself, this time in a clearer voice. "I don't want to have children. Ever. It's just…too much. I had to raise Prim myself, and I know how cruel the world is. You do too, from what you've seen." I shook my head loose from his hand. "I don't want to bring anyone else into such a world."

Peeta's face was blank, and I couldn't guess what he thinking. So I started rambling. "I know that you probably want children, and I can't give you that, and you should be with someone who wants to give you that and I'll just disappoint you and you'll resent me and –"

"Katniss, shhh." He placed a finger to my lips and made me stop. I looked up into his soft blue eyes and saw not anger, but that gentle look that he gave only me. "I want you. And if that's what you want, then it's what I want. I have no right being a father right now anyways. Can you imagine it? I can't even get through the day without thinking about the war, how I could take care of a baby?"

I could, though. I could imagine two blond hair, blue eyed children, covered in flour and plump from eating too many cookies. I could imagine Peeta as the perfect father, waiting on them hand and foot and carrying them on his shoulders. I could imagine it all, but I couldn't see myself in the same picture. "What if you want them later, though? Then what?"

Peeta smiled. "Are you trying to tell me that you'll still be with me later?"

I blushed deeply and realized that I had just given up my game, that I had acknowledged a future – a long term future – with Peeta. "I mean, umm…"

Before I could answer, Prim burst out of the pantry. "Katniss, I – oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." She giggled and I realized how close Peeta and I were standing. I ducked out of his way and walked over by the sink to put away dishes.

Prim cleared her throat and spoke a little too loudly. "I'll just go to bed now and leave you two alone. Good night, Peeta. Good night, Katniss." She winked at me before disappearing into the hallway and our bedroom.

I sighed and hung my head. Between yesterday and today, so much had happened, and I was exhausted. I was letting my personal life get the better of me, when I should have been focusing on Prim and providing for the three of us. But Peeta – I couldn't deny how I felt about him. I wanted him in my life, and I felt the tug between my pre- and post-Peeta days stronger than ever.

Snapping me out of my thoughts, Peeta took my hand and lead me to the back porch that was connected to the kitchen. It was dark in there, and the windows were covered with thick old blankets to keep the cold air out. My father had installed a radiator here years ago, and it was where Prim and I would often play and have slumber parties, just the two of us. Now, it often sat empty, save for the few times when Prim would rescue yet another stray kitten and keep it on the back porch until she convinced yet another neighbor to take it in.

Peeta closed the door to the kitchen behind us, and used what little light was left to lead me to the old dusty sofa kept out there. The room was colder than the rest of the house, and I saw Peeta's figure bend over turn on the radiator. It whizzed and popped into life, and I immediately felt the warmth drift throughout the small framed room.

Peeta sat down next to me and took his hands in mind. They must have felt cold, because he brought them up to his mouth and blew into them, rubbing them together. Such a simple act made me relax, and I remembered that this was Peeta, my Peeta, the one who brings me treats and makes sure I'm dressed warm and knows how to dance and cook and makes me smile.

"Katniss," he started, "when I came back from the war, I was hopeless. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, kept having these 'visions' of what happened back there. Finnick was the one who finally dragged me out of the house, and when I saw you for the first time, it was as if all those horrible memories had disappeared. You give me hope again. You make me feel like a man again." He kissed the palms of my hands and rested his cheek inside of them. "If you don't want children, that's fine. All I want is you."

I was speechless. How could I respond to that? So I remained silent, and simply rubbed his cheek with my hand to show him that I wanted him too.

"If you don't want to be with me, physically, I mean, anymore, I understand. I should have asked you about children, I should have known better and used my judgment." He chuckled. "It's seems I lose all judgment around you." He paused for a moment. "So, if you don't want to-"

"No, no, I don't want to stop," I blurted out.

Peeta laughed at me again. "I'll take that as a compliment." I blushed again in the darkness; it seemed that I had a much easier time having sex than talking about sex.

I had to ask, though. "But what about…you know. Babies."

"I'll get some condoms. We had them overseas, and Finnick knows where to get some more," Peeta said matter-of-factly.

"What's a condom?" I had never heard the word before.

Peeta blushed and started to stammer. "Oh, sorry, of course you don't….Um, well, it's a rubber…thing you put over your, um….the man's part, so that you don't get diseases. It works for stopping pregnancy as well."

"Oh." And just like that, I was reminded that whereas I felt inexperienced, Peeta did not. How many women, exactly, had he been with? Did he always use a condom with them or were there half-American blue eyed blond haired little boys wandering the coast of Britain right now. And why did that bother me, if I didn't want kids?

I'm sure my face had given away each one of these thoughts, because picked up my chin again. "Hey, I told you before, the others didn't mean anything. It was war, Katniss, and I really didn't think I was going to come home. If I had known that I was going to come home to you, then I would have been as celibate as a monk."

"How many?" I had to know. I just had to.

Peeta sighed and looked away towards the wall. "Three. Only three."

I took a deep breathe. "Did you love them?"

Peeta turned towards me and shook his head. "No. In fact, each one was just the one time. And I was drunk all three times. Please forgive me, Katniss, I can't bear to think that those other women would hurt you."

"No, they don't hurt me. I just – I just wish they could not be there, in your past."

"I can tell you one thing. None of them can even hold a candle to you. You're far more beautiful, more caring, more –"

Before he could on, I interrupted him. "Can you just promise me something?" Peeta nodded. "Let's not talk about them. Ever. "

Peeta laughed and pulled me closer. "Of course." He smoothed my stray hairs behind my ears and starting gently kissing my neck and shoulders. "You know, we could do other things." Peeta started leaning in towards me as he spoke.

"Other things?" I asked. I wasn't sure what he meant. Peeta smirked as he kissed me, wasting no time in swiping his tongue against my lips, begging for entrance. As he deepened the kiss, he laid me across the couch, and my legs naturally spread open alongside his hips. Our kisses became more frantic and our hips began to thrust against one another, in an attempt to satisfy the tension we both felt. The hunger I felt him immediately took over, and my mind could focus on nothing else.

Peeta finally left my mouth to begin descending lower, unbuttoning my blouse slowly as he did. With each button undone, he covered his mouth with the newly exposed skin, making his way across my chest, feeling his way under my bra, and down towards my navel. It tickled, but in a good way, in a way that made me want him to keep going.

He lifted up my skirt next, and when he continued moving downward, I sat up quickly, pulling my skirt back down as I did. "What are you doing?" I hissed.

"Do you trust me?" Peeta grinned shyly at me through the darkness. I nodded. Of course I did, I just wasn't exactly sure what he planned on doing down there.

Peeta lifted my skirt back up around my waist and ran his hands up my legs, caressing my legs, slowly tracing the line where my stockings stopped mid-thigh and up the ribbons of my garters. He slipped his fingers into the waistband of my panties and started tugging them down. I lifted my hips to let him, repeating "I trust him, I trust him" inside of my head, if only to calm my nerves. I could hear my breath getting heavier and faster.

From the bottom of my line of vision, I saw Peeta's head go down there, and I almost bolted up again, but then I felt his kisses against the uppermost corner of my inner thighs, and I melted into the couch cushions. And slowly, he made his way closer, closer, until he hit my center with his warm mouth and I nearly died from breathing so hard.

It was like nothing I had ever felt before, all sensation and heat and almost too much. He licked his tongue up against me again and again, and then caught that little spot towards the top with his lips, sucking against it and making my body buzz. The feeling built and built, just as it had the day before, but more this time, stronger and more intense.

"Peeta," I whispered, gripping the sides of the couch with my fists. It was too much, too much, but so good-

And then I exploded, my hips lifting up against Peeta's face and I didn't know or care what sounds were coming out of my mouth. Peeta kept working his mouth until I lay back against the couch, and then gently kissed the underside of my thighs, causing me to jolt at the sensitivity.

"How was that?" he asked, clearly smiling in satisfaction.

"WHAT was that?" I asked, hiding my eyes behind my arm, and I giggled – giggled. I don't giggle, and here I was, a big puddle, giggling like a bobby soxer.

"Just something Finnick told me about."

"Well, remind me to thank Finnick later." Not that I would; how I would even begin to explain what Peeta had just done – and how much I had enjoyed it – I didn't know.

Peeta laughed up at me from between my thighs and came back up, lying on top of me once more. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and embarrassment flushed through my body as I realized where his mouth had been. But when he resumed kissing me, just as deep and passionate as before, and I felt his hardness pressing against me, I lost focus once more. We quickly found ourselves exactly where we had started, frantically exploring each other's mouths and pushing our bodies against one another. I was still wet between my legs, my skirt bunched up around my hips, and I wanted him once more.

It built and built. And when he nibbled the skin behind my ear, I whispered, "Peeta…I want you."

Peeta moaned and thrust against me again. "Katniss…I want to be inside you so bad."

"Me too," I whispered, wanting, no, craving what I had experienced the night before. I wanted to be filled with him, to be as close as two can be. My head was swimming and I could not think of anything but his request.

"I'll pull out, ok?" I had no idea what he was talking about, but I nodded anyways, in a hurry to satisfy what I was chasing. He pulled up to undo his belt and zipper, pulling his pants halfway down his thighs.

With one quick jolt of his hips, he was inside of me. I gasped and moaned at the contact, still amazed at the size inside of me, and Peeta shushed me with a kiss. He picked up the side of thigh as he continued to pump, my skirt flopping up against my stomach, and each time he hit that spot inside of me just so. In no time, I felt the build again, and I pushed my feet against the couch to lift my hips to his, rubbing myself against him. Peeta moaned as I did, and I tossed my head backwards as the rush filled my body for the second time that night.

Peeta starting moving more quickly and I could feel him harden even more inside of me. "Katniss, I can't last…much…" He was breathing heavily over my mouth and suddenly, as he let out a deep moan, he pulled himself out of me, pushing instead onto my thigh. I looked down, confused, and felt a wet spot forming underneath me. For a moment, I thought I had wet myself, but then I realized what Peeta had meant by "pull out."

"Sorry," he whispered. "Wait here, I'll get you something." He stood up and took off his sweater and undershirt, and used the undershirt to wipe first at my thighs and then on himself. I watched him, fascinated by the fact that he was still so hard, and then tried to explain the physics of just how, how, something so thick and large could fit inside of me.

"Sorry," he repeated. "I know this is messy, but next time I'll use something, I promise." Peeta handed me my panties that had been tossed on the floor, and I realized in that moment how exposed I was. I quickly stood up and slipped them back on, pulling down my skirt and trying to look less disheveled, just in case – terrifying as it would be – my mother or Prim would happen to step onto the back porch looking for me. Although, from the look Prim gave me before, she knew what I was up to with Peeta.

But I didn't care. Peeta grabbed my hand and pulled me back onto the couch next to him. I pulled my knees up and snuggled my head against his shoulder, feeling quite happy and tired. Peeta hummed contently as I did so, and we stayed there for a long time, simply holding each other, entwining our hands over and over again. I knew he had to go home that night, I knew that I couldn't stay like this forever. But I pretended that I could.

The worries of the day were far away, as long as I was in Peeta's arms.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

A few notes:

Please, once again, ignore the birth control strategies of Peeta and Katniss when it comes to your own lives. As some of you have pointed out, WWII soldiers were educated on the use of condoms and all, but let's face it, the large number of babies born during and after the war clearly shows that they didn't always use them. Plus, all I can say is, their choices are vital to this story.

Now that we're starting to get a little more into the labor union part of the story, I want to explain a bit: I did some research about unions and the labor movement right after the war, and, like Haymitch says, the national unions did not approve any strikes during the war, so that production for the war effort would remain up. However, immediately after the war, a lot of unions did go on strike, and this created a certain level of anti-union sentiment across the country. So although the 1940s and 50s are thought of (today) as the heyday of labor unions, everything wasn't peachy keen.

That being said, I am NOT a labor history expert – if any readers are, or would love a mini-research project, please contact me. I'll do my best with what I know/find, but this is a work of fiction and I have writerly liberties and all that jazz.

Til next time!