It's still storming when they get back to the apartment. She reluctantly gives Peeta his shirt back before they get out of the car, crawling into the back to get her tank top. He makes a comment about investing in an umbrella when he helps her out of the car.
"Thank you," she says. "But, you know, I don't really mind getting rained on."
They still end up running to get the apartment, like they did to get to the car from the beach. He laces their fingers together. She might like holding his hand even more that way.
They shower and change when they get inside. It's clear that Peeta is still going to be upset about the rain for a while, so she suggests that maybe they can still do something.
This gets his interest. He perks up a little bit. "What do you want to do?" he asks.
She doesn't want to watch TV, exactly. "Um, do you have a deck of cards?"
He nods. "Sure. Just, like, regular, or for a special game?"
"Just a regular deck," she says. He digs through a hall closet, and it takes him a while, but he finds one.
"What are we playing?" he asks, heading for kitchen. He sits down across from her, which is a weird change after all this time sitting side by side with him. She shrugs.
"I'm okay with anything. Do you know any games?"
He teaches her a couple of different games. Her favorite is the one where they have to pair off the different cards. He's a good teacher.
"Hey, do you want anything to drink?" he asks between games.
"Um, do you have more hot chocolate?" she asks. He laughs.
"Yes, always," he says, pushing the deck over to her before he stands up. "You pick the next game."
"Did you play a lot of cards?" she asks. "Growing up, I mean."
"Yeah," he says. "Sort of. My brother and I all shared the same room growing up, so some nights, when we couldn't sleep, we'd all sit on Dylan's bed – he had the one closest to the window – and play cards in the streetlight, so we wouldn't get caught with our light on."
She sort of smiles. She hadn't thought there could ever be anything good about the lights at night.
"And you? Did you play a lot?"
"I wouldn't say a lot," she says. "But if I was off and I couldn't get to the woods for whatever reason, Prim and I would sit and play a game of Rummy or something."
"Rummy?" he asks, excited.
It's clear that they've been taught to play differently. He's an eager learner, though, and she's glad to have something to teach him. Even though he does seem to be taking it a little bit too seriously. She tells him that it's not such a big deal, but he insists.
"I want to see how the Everdeens play," he says. She likes the way he says Everdeen. But then again, it's been so long that she would probably like the way anyone says it. "And then I want to win."
She laughs. "And here I thought you were going easy on me. Letting me win."
He laughs. "Actually, you just so happened to marry a man that's horrible at cards. We can make our own house rules, though."
"I don't know if I'd say horrible," she says.
"I should have pretended I was letting you win. Chivalry, and all that," he says, grinning. "Though, I have a strong suspicion that you probably aren't exactly the kind of girl that would like that."
"Probably not," she agrees. "Keep trying, though. Maybe I'll go easy on you." If she's flirting before, please let her wink or something here :)
"Don't you dare."
She likes the sound of the thunder. It's the same here as it was in District Twelve. When Peeta asks what she's smiling about, she's actually willing to own up to it.
"My grandmother lives outside of the city," Peeta admits. "So, since she's not on the main power grid, she would lose power during storms, sometimes, if they were bad some reason, I always loved it when the lights would turn off."
She can't relate to that, exactly. Electricity in District Twelve has always been sporadic at best. Especially in the Seam. "Why don't you just turn the lights off?"
He laughs. "I don't know. It's just sort of not the same thing. You know?"
She shrugs. "So, it's not always bright everywhere?"
"Not when the power's off," he jokes. "No. Like, where Finnick and Annie live, or where my grandmother's house is, it gets dark and quiet at night. It always seemed weird to me."
"There was a curfew in Twelve," she admits. "You were supposed to be punished if you were out too late, but no one ever was. We didn't have very strict Peacekeepers."
He smiles at her. She thinks that Peeta almost likes it more when she talks about District Twelve than his father does. It's kind of funny to think about, but Twelve is about as foreign to him as the Capitol is to her.
Somehow, after the beach, she's always touching Peeta in some form or another. She tries to be subtle about it at first, holding his hand when they cross the street or after he's helped her out of the car. When it's obvious that Peeta doesn't mind, she stops needing excuses.
It turns out that it's even better when he laces their fingers together. Even if, the first time Rye saw them like this, he smirked at Peeta. She didn't want to know what that meant, really, so she didn't ask
She can relate to him, honestly, for wanting to know about how the Everdeens do things. She's actually starting to like things at the bakery. Starting to like the way the Mellarks do things. Scarlett and Rye in particular, who they work with most of the time, are a lot of fun to be around.
Rye teases Peeta a lot, and while it bothered Katniss at first, it's starting to get funny. Especially with how well Peeta takes it. And Scarlett likes to tell stories about how her marriage with Rye was at the start. Peeta is always, always smiling at her for some reason or another, whether it's because something is weird or funny or he likes the way she's doing something.
It's nice.
Scarlett finally convinces Katniss to leave her spot at Peeta's side, at least every once in a while. She feels a lot more productive this way. Especially with how full of praise Peeta is at just the slightest amount of effort she puts into anything at the bakery.
She's not even that bad at it. She knows that it's probably because Peeta, Scarlett, and Rye have been pumping her full of information every chance they've had, but she's willing to take a little bit of credit for it. Mostly just in her letters to her sister.
The next week at work, Scarlett finally convinces Katniss to leave her spot at Peeta's side, at least every once in a while. She feels a lot more productive this way. Especially with how full of praise Peeta is at just the slightest amount of effort she puts into anything at the bakery.
She's not even that bad at it. She knows that it's probably because Peeta, Scarlett, and Rye have been feeding her information every chance they've had, but she's willing to take a little bit of credit for it. At least in letters to her sister.
Peeta is working the front counter the day she's trusted to make her own batch of rolls. She can't help but to sort of wish that Peeta was here to see her.
Rye and Scarlett, even though they're not Peeta, are plenty supportive. She's heading back from putting the sheet in the oven when Rye saves her.
"Timer?" he asks, and she sprints back for the oven to set it. It's taken a while to figure out how things work. Rye and Scarlett – like Katniss and Peeta – are a package deal. The elder Mellarks are not. They take turns back and forth, one parent on duty when the other one is off.
Dylan exclusively works the days that his father works. Mrs. Mellark is in charge of the finances. Katniss had been afraid that she holed herself up in the side office because she disapproved of her. Peeta assured her that it wasn't the case when she asked, and while it doesn't make her think that his mother she likes her, exactly, it's sort of a relief.
"How are things with Peeta?" Scarlett asks when Katniss comes back to the stainless steel table where she's been working. "Are you more comfortable?"
"Yes," Katniss answers, sort of surprising herself with her honesty. "He's very kind."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Scarlett says. "I'm glad you finally see it."
"Ugh, and he adores you," Rye adds, and he says it like it's something that's annoying even though he's smiling.
He adores her. She finds herself smiling, too. She tells them about the beach, and when she gets to the part about Peeta's disappointment over the rain, Rye laughs.
"Yeah, that's typical Peeta. He's always been a perfectionist, no matter how hard he tries to hide it."
It's sort of funny, talking about Peeta with his brother. She's heard plenty about Rye and Dylan by now, but it's strangely pleasant to hear stories about Peeta's childhood from a different perspective.
When the timer goes off, she remembers all of Peeta's warnings about burns, and she's sure that he'd be proud that she remembers to use a potholder before she even tries to take the tray out of the oven. Unfortunately, she's in such a hurry that she doesn't pull the door all the way open and her forearm ends up pressed against the hot metal of the door when she reaches in.
The baking sheet clatters against the hard bakery floor, taking the rolls with it and scattering them. She bites down on her lip so hard that it hurts, trying to keep herself from crying. She's not sure which part is more upsetting – the pain in her arm, or the rolls on the floor.
Mrs. Mellark hears the commotion and is out of her office instantly, roaring at Katniss. Peeta comes rushing into the kitchen before she's even finished calling her a stupid, stupid girl. He sweeps Katniss behind him, as if he's going to use his body to shield her from his mother's words. He is furious. His fists are balled at his side, and he doesn't let his mother finish.
"Oh, be quiet!" he snaps.
"All I want to know is who had the brilliant idea of putting her in charge of the oven," Mrs. Mellark says. Katniss feels so, so guilty when she looks from Peeta to Rye. "What sort of bakery do you think we're running here? We can't just –"
"I said to be quiet," Peeta says, says, interrupting again. Scarlett comes with an ice pack for Katniss' arm. He takes it and when he turns to secure it, he's all gentleness. She can tell he's wondering what happened when he looks up at her, but she can't help but to be relieved that he's willing to stand up for her even if he doesn't know what it's about.
"Dad gave her a job here, in case you forgot," he adds, looking over his shoulder at his mother. "Take it up with him. We're going home."
He leads her by the hand to the car. She says that she could stick it out through the rest of the day, but he shakes his head at her.
"I am so sorry," he says. "She's horrible, and I never should have left you alone back there."
"No, it's okay," Katniss says. "It was my fault."
This gets him angry all over again. "It's your fault you got hurt?" he asks. "That's ridiculous."
She doesn't have a response for this.
He slams his fist against the steering wheel before he starts the car. "Ugh. I just – ugh. I don't have anything decent to say. I'm so sorry."
As soon as they get back to the apartment, he sets her up on the couch with a blanket and heads for the kitchen to get a fresh ice pack for her.
Clearly, he's not going to believe her that she's okay just yet. And, when that fact comes with a mug of hot chocolate, she actually can handle it. His phone rings and rings and rings, but he doesn't answer it until he's in the kitchen to make lunch.
She's pretty sure she's not supposed to hear the conversation that he's having. But she hasn't been able to find anything on TV so it's quiet save for him talking.
"I don't care. Nope. I've made my position very clear. We won't be back if she's going to be there."
She feels guilty. With how much Peeta loves the bakery, she doesn't want to be the reason he's not there.
"Yeah, you can tell her I said I don't want her around my wife."
He doesn't expect her to be in the kitchen when he hangs up. It's been a while since the last time she startled him.
"Um," she says. "You don't have to quit the bakery because of me."
He shakes his head. "Not quitting. We're . . . rearranging some schedules."
"And if they don't cooperate?" she asks carefully.
"Then we'll look for other employment. But I'm the best cake decorator they have. It would be a horrible decision if dad picked her over us."
"But he's married to her," Katniss presses.
"That doesn't mean he likes her."
She wonders if she's supposed to feel that way about Peeta. Or if he's supposed to feel that way about her. "Oh."
"It'll be okay," he says. "But I cannot believe she yelled at you like that. I'm just . . . I'm so mad, Katniss."
"I know," she says. "It's not that bad, though. The burn, I mean."
He frowns at her. She decides that it's time to change the subject.
"Did your father talk about Twelve a lot when you were a kid?" she asks.
"Not when there was a chance my mother would hear him," Peeta says. So much for changing the subject. "But, every now and then, yes. Like when he would drive me to school or I'd get up early to help him with something for the bakery."
"So . . . your mother didn't like it. That's why he didn't get to write back home?"
He nods. "Yeah. She's . . . she's a lot like what I think you were afraid I was going to be," he says. "I mean, if I had my way, I'd keep you away from her forever."
"Forever?" she asks.
He nods. "You have no idea how mad I was that night they crashed our dinner. Ugh. The comment about table manners –"
"I think I have some idea," she says. "But I'm over it. Like you said, you're not like that, so . . ."
"Beautiful, smart, and she's willing to put up with my mother's bigotry," Peeta says, like he's completely in awe of her. "I hope you realize how much I lucked out."
She sort of laughs.
They spend the rest of the day on the couch. She's starting to seriously doubt his judgment when it comes to TV shows. She doesn't tell him that, though, because it's not like she knows what she wouldlike. And besides, she's pretty content to just lie on the couch with Peeta. Her favorite position is with her head on a throw pillow in his lap and her legs curled up against the back of the couch.
The arm that rests on the armrest brushes up against her head sometimes when he repositions. She doesn't mind. She becomes a little bit fixated on his hair. He doesn't seem to mind. Not even when, during the second episode of the show, she angles herself almost all the way away from the TV and reaches a hand up, careful not to block his view, and touches his hair.
He glances down at her, looking amused.
"Is this okay?" she asks, her voice quiet. She's not trying to be rude, exactly. Not trying to interrupt.
He nods. She's all too satisfied with the way her fingers disappear into his blond curls.
By the fourth episode, he seems to think nothing of it when she turns and distracts herself with his hair. She gets up to get a glass of water, and when she comes back, she perches on the armrest. This gives her a different angle to work with. Her hand starts to trail down the side of his head this time. She traces her fingers along the thick frame of his glasses all the way back to his ear, and he shudders when her hand reaches the smooth skin on his neck.
Right. Her hands must be cold from the ice water. She's about to pull her hand away and apologize when he turns to look at her with a barely contained smile. And then, suddenly, he's there. Closer than he's ever been in halfway decent lighting. How has she never noticed the freckles that dot his nose and cheeks?
"Hey," he says, his voice soft. She hasn't even realized how close she moved to him, but she can feel his breath on her skin. It's not half as even as it usually is. Good. Maybe her own shallow breathing won't seem weird to him.
"Hey," she returns. Her forehead is practically touching his. "This okay?"
He nods dumbly, frantically, and she surges forward, closing the small space between them. She can feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. Especially when she reaches them forward to tangle in his hair. His lips are soft. Warm and sort of dry against hers. And his hands are gentle – so, so very gentle – when he guides her to come closer so she's practically sitting in his lap. Like he thinks that if he holds her too tightly she'll break.
He lets out a little groan when she pulls away.
"And that?" she whispers.
"Katniss," he says. "That was . . ."
"Okay?" she supplies, half joking and half genuinely trying to figure out if maybe she's ruined everything.
He laughs, pulling her in for a second, third, and fourth kiss while he speaks. "That was so, so, so okay."
He's beaming at her, and suddenly she's laughing at the absurdity of it all. Because the TV is still playing behind her like something revolutionary hasn't just happened here. Her hands are still in his hair.
"Good," she says.
Peeta presses a kiss to the inside of her forearm, where he wrapped the bandage. It only serves to make her laugh more.
It's quiet for a while. She rests back against him again, trying to pretend like her heart isn't pounding in her chest.
"So . . ." Peeta says, trailing off. She thinks he's been at a loss for words more today than he has any other time since she's been here. "I know you asked me. But . . . are you okay with what happened?"
She nods. "Yeah. Definitely."
His hand comes down to play with her hair. She's glad that she's not the only one that isn't paying attention to the show. "Good."
"Have you . . . have you done that before?" Katniss asks. She's sort of relieved that she's facing away from him.
"Um, yeah. I have," Peeta says.
She's not sure why the thought of Peeta kissing other girls gets to her, but it does. "I haven't. Um, I've never done that before, I mean. You could probably tell, but . . ."
He laughs. "You have no idea the effect you have, do you?"
He gets a text before bed. It's his father informing him that the tantrum worked. She doesn't feel right about it, still, but Peeta doesn't really mind. If anything, he seems like he's happy he's won the argument.
She doesn't like to be the cause of it, but she doesn't tell him that.
He kisses her on the forehead that night before they fall asleep. She decides that this is something she could get used to.