A walk into town to look at the spot where the bakery once stood, since it now belongs to Peeta and he's considering rebuilding and reopening it. A visit to Haymitch's house in the afternoon. Lunch outside, on my back porch. A walk over to Peeta's to pack up some of his things (clothes, mostly) and bring them to my house, which I keep having to remind myself is now our house. Unpacking, then dinner.

Almost everything we've done today has been Peeta's idea. The only thing I came up with was moving him in with me, but I think that's when he had the most fun all day.

After our late dinner, we relocate to the living room and talk for a while.

I'm sitting beside Peeta, with my head on his shoulder and his cheek against my hair, when I say, "I've been thinking about going hunting tomorrow."

"Good," Peeta says, picking up my hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb. We're both silent for a few seconds before he speaks again. "Do you think…you might want to take me with you sometime? Not tomorrow, or even for the next few days. But eventually?"

I sit up to look over at him. "You'd want to come?"

"Sure," he says. "I know how much you like it out there."

I nod. "Hunting used to be my favorite thing to do. I'd like you to come. Tomorrow, even, unless you were thinking of baking in the morning."

Peeta shakes his head once. "Tomorrow's good." I lean in to hug him briefly, and when we release each other, he's smiling. "What's your favorite thing to do now?" he asks.

"Um…" I hadn't really meant to say that hunting only used to be my favorite thing to do. And while I suppose it's true, I can't exactly say what I'm thinking now: my new favorite thing is being with you…preferably sans clothing, even though that seems to be the truth.

Peeta kisses my forehead and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, then changes the subject. "Can I draw you?"

"If you want," I say, smiling in return.

He does a few sketches of me sitting in a couple different ways. Seeing them is a bit of a shock for me; I'd forgotten how talented he is. They look just like me, though I can't help thinking he's unintentionally embellished a little. "They're beautiful," I say, staring down at the drawings, which he's laid out on the coffee table.

"Because of you," Peeta says, stepping behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tightly.

I lean my head back so it rests on his chest, closing my eyes.

"They'd be better if I'd had some daylight," he says.

I open my eyes to find him looking down at the sketches again, then I glance at the large, dark wood analog clock that sits on the mantel. It's well past eleven at night. I can't believe the day is over already. It's been so nice…and easy. The time has flown by.

Peeta looks down at me and asks, "Ready for bed?"

I realize my head is still resting against him and my eyes are half-closed. "Yeah," I say, leaning forward just slightly, until I'm standing up straight and on my own.

"I'll put these away," Peeta says with a glance toward his sketches and pencils, "then be right up."

I nod and go upstairs. I stop in the bathroom first and brush my teeth, then go to the bedroom, where I take off my pants and change into a small, comfortable tank top to sleep in. I feel kind of exposed, in just underwear and a shirt (which is pretty revealing without a bra underneath it), so I climb into bed and pull the covers up to my chin.

After a couple minutes, Peeta comes in, looking a little upset.

"Are you okay?" I ask, sitting up.

He forces a smile and nods. "I just…had a flashback. But I'm fine now."

"What do you mean by flashback?"

"It's hard to explain," Peeta says, walking over to the spare dresser. He opens a draw and takes out a pair of pants to sleep in, then turns back toward me. "It's kind of like when the shiny memories surface, only instead of seeing them, I just think about them. And just now, I almost felt like I was back in the Capitol, when they gave me the venom…and it hurt."

I realize I'm firmly biting my bottom lip, which is quivering. I release it before I can draw blood, and say, "You should have called me."

Peeta shrugs. "You wouldn't have been able to do anything. I mostly just have to put up with it, but I took one of my pills after it was over and that's helping."

I want to say that I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if Peeta wants to hear that. He may misunderstand and think what I'm saying is that I feel sorry for him, which I know he doesn't want. Instead I say, "Well, if it happens again, if you think of anything I can do -"

"I'll let you know."

Peeta turns away from me, ending the discussion, and changes into the sleeping pants, then pulls open a different drawer than the one they came out of.

"You don't have to wear a shirt," I say.

He turns around, smiling playfully. "Watching me?"

I shrug as if to say, Nothing I haven't seen before. I'm glad he's recovered from the flashback enough to tease me.

He shuts the drawer, then joins me in bed, where we lay facing each other for a few moments. If anything is going to happen, now would be the time for him to initiate it.

But, unsurprisingly, he doesn't. He just leans forward and places two quick, soft kisses on my lips, then moves away from me and turns off the bedside lamp, enshrouding the room in darkness. It was a mostly sunny day, but in the late afternoon a thick layer of clouds came in, and they must still be out there, blocking out any moonlight.

We arrange ourselves the way we used to sleep when we were together: my head on his chest, his arms around me. I feel warm and content. We had such a nice day today and I already feel much closer to him again. I close my eyes and can already feel myself drifting off.

#

Peeta jolts beneath me, waking me up. I don't know how long we've been sleeping, but it can't have been more than a couple hours. The room is completely dark and I still feel tired.

He cries out; not loudly or long, but in a way that lets me know he's having a very upsetting nightmare. On the train, he told me that he would usually just wake up from nightmares, paralyzed with fear. The fact that he's reacting differently to this one must mean it's worse, and maybe even has something to do with what happened to him in the Capitol.

"Peeta," I say softly, lifting my head to try, futilely, to look at him. He doesn't respond, just shivers and seems to be struggling to breathe. I slide my hands up, feeling my way to his face, which I cup. "Peeta!"

He jolts again, this time gasping as he wakes up. "K-Katniss?" he asks, running his hands up my arms until they wrap around my shoulders.

"I'm here," I say. "It's okay, it was just a nightmare."

"Yeah, a nightmare," he says, trying to catch his breath. "It - you were - I mean -"

"It's okay," I say again. I lean down to kiss his cheek, but neither of us can see anything and his head was turned, I guess, so I end up kissing his lips.

I'm surprised at his fervent reaction to this little, soft kiss. Simultaneously, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him, tilts his head further to the side, and pushes his tongue into my lips, letting out a soft hum.

Reflexively, I open my mouth enough to allow him entrance. My arms wrap around his neck as he turns us over, so he's on top of me. Suddenly his hands are everywhere. They start in my hair and move to gently caress my face, before one slides down and squeezes my waist.

Then he abruptly pulls back, ending our kiss. "You're safe," he whispers, still sounding frantic.

"Yes," I say. "I'm fine." I feel him lean in again, this time to touch his forehead to mine. "Do you want to tell me about it?" I ask.

"No," he says with urgency, "I just - I just need you."

Then we're kissing again and his hand is sliding up my shirt. He reaches my breast and squeezes it firmly, but not hard enough to hurt me. After a moment, his thumb begins circling in a way that creates a dull ache inside me. After he's made my skin pebble up, his hand slides over to touch my other breast, while he continues taking my breath away with his kiss.

I twist my mouth away from his. I feel like there's something that needs to be said, though I'm not quite sure what it is. "Peeta -"

But he's taken this opportunity to stick his head up my shirt and swirl his tongue around my nipple. All I can do is groan and clutch his head against me. He kisses his way to the other side and does the same, until I'm desperately pushing my hips up against him, seeking attention elsewhere.

Then his mouth is gone and he's tugging at my shirt. I sit up so he'll be able to pull it off of me, then I reach for his pants. His hands bat mine out of the way and I hear fabric swishing and feel the bed shift as he frees himself from his clothing.

I reach out blindly and my hand lands on his waist, but from there it's easy to slide down and find what I'd wanted to grab hold of. He's rock hard already and seems to throb in my hand. I begin to stroke him up and down and I relish the sound of his groan.

After only a few moments he whispers, "Stop."

I quickly release him, pulling my hand back, afraid I've done something wrong. But then I feel his hand on my thigh, sliding up quickly to find the top of my underwear. I realize he only stopped me because he wants more. He wants something better than my hand, and maybe he's afraid he won't last because it's been so long, too long since we were together like this.

As I lean back on my hands and lift my hips, so he'll be able to pull my underwear off, I fleetingly wonder if this is a good idea, but it only takes an instant for me to decide that it is. It must be.

The fabric passes over my feet and now I know we're both completely naked. Peeta's hand finds its way between my legs. He pushes a finger about halfway inside me, then pulls it out and rubs me in small circles until I'm whimpering and reaching out for him, clawing at his back and shoulders to bring him closer.

Then his hand is gone and I swear I can hear him suck on his finger, before pulling it out of his mouth with a slight popping sound. I want to see him, and momentarily consider turning on a light, but then I think better of it. I decide I like that it's so dark, as it seems to be making me less inhibited.

His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me onto his lap, away from the head of the bed, to kiss me. I reach down and take hold of his erection, so I can rub the tip up and down against myself. It feels so good that I can only form one coherent thought: I need more now.

The next thing I know, Peeta is gently laying me back on the bed and positioning himself over me so we're lined up just right. I start to guide him inside me and he helps by pushing gently. I wish he'd move faster, but maybe he's afraid of hurting me. It does hurt a little; I guess because it's been so long and this is only our second time. Still, in spite of the slight discomfort, my insides are throbbing and clenching, trying to pull him in.

When he seems about halfway in, Peeta breaks our kiss and rests his head next to mine on the pillow, panting lightly. I realize I've been so focused on what's happening that I'm not even breathing. I take in a slow, shaky breath and try to calm myself down as he pushes in the rest of the way, but I can't. He feels so unbelievably good, and just knowing it's Peeta here with me, and that we're finally doing this again, brings tears to my eyes. I wrap my arms and legs around him, overwhelmed by how much I feel right now, and how much I love him.

He whispers my name and places a trail of soft kisses from my earlobe down over my neck, then his mouth finds mine and he grinds himself against me, making me gasp and arch my back in pleasure.

I let my legs fall to the bed, keeping them spread as far apart as I comfortably can. He starts to move, pulling out just slightly at first, but then more and more as his thrusts continue. I move with him, against him, and it feels better. I knot one hand in his hair and use the other to hold onto his upper back, digging my nails in. For his part, Peeta seems to be trying to kiss every inch of me he can reach: my face, my neck, my chest, my shoulders. I'm only vaguely aware of the noises we're both making - some soft moans and sighs, some not-so-soft grunts and gasps - as the pleasure builds.

I feel him shifting slightly, moving away from me but not enough to prevent him from getting all the way in as he pushes forward again. Then his hands are on my legs, sliding under my bent knees and pushing them up toward my head so my hips are tilted at a new angle. He starts thrusting into me faster and harder. My eyes roll back in my head and my mind seems to shut off. I cry out, pretty loudly, and clutch at the sheet beside me, begging him to keep doing exactly what he's doing right now. With this new angle, he's perfectly stimulating that sensitive place just above where he's inside me and I can feel myself getting ready to come.

I'm pushing back against him frantically, gasping and whimpering, so close I can hardly stand it. Out of nowhere, I feel his mouth close over one of my breasts. He sucks hard and makes me scream as an immense pleasure shoots through me. Stars dance in front of my eyes and I feel like I might faint as my whole body tenses and I clench around him.

I'm just starting to spiral back to normality when Peeta gives a final, hard thrust into me and finishes, crying out almost as loudly as I did. He collapses on top of me, completely spent but still careful not to rest too much weight on me. I wrap all my limbs around him again and stroke my hands over his back while we both try to recover. He's still twitching lightly inside of me, and I'm gently contracting around him, when he rolls onto his back, taking me with him so I'm now on top.

I listen to his heart beating and smile when he kisses my forehead and pulls the sheet over us. In what seems like no time at all, I fall into a deep sleep.

#

We separated at some point in the night; when I wake up at the crack of dawn, I'm laying on my back on my own side of the bed. Peeta's laying on his stomach, his face turned away from me. I place a kiss on his cheek, then silently get dressed before I make my way to the bathroom to wash up. I decide against a shower, planning instead to take one after I get back from my hunt. I make my way downstairs, grab my father's jacket, a bow and some arrows, and a plastic lined bag from the closet to carry my kills in.

It's not until I reach the woods, and feel my cheeks starting to hurt, that I realize I've been smiling ever since I woke up. I purse my lips and then manage to set my face into a normal expression. There will plenty of time for more smiles when I go back home to Peeta. I can't wait to see him again.

In spite of my preoccupation with the perfection and bliss of last night, I manage to get a good enough haul. Partly because I'm eager to see Peeta, and partly because I'm still feeling emotionally (and physically) drained from the ordeal in the Capitol, I head home sooner than I normally would. But my short hunt has helped to clear my head, and I've loved seeing the woods again, so I feel like it's been a plenty useful outing.

I decide to cut through town, which is still in the early rebuilding stages and is deserted this early in the morning. I then walk briskly to the victor's village, coming around the back of my house and entering through the door that leads to the kitchen. There's no evidence Peeta's been in here, nor can I hear him upstairs. He's probably still asleep.

I quickly clean my kills and toss them in the fridge, then wash off the used arrows and put them back in the quiver. I leave them (along with the bow) in the living room, then wash my hands and face at the downstairs bathroom sink.

It occurs to me that the cardboard box and pill bottles, which were in the kitchen yesterday morning, were absent just now. Peeta must have put them away sometime yesterday, maybe after I went up to bed, or while I was washing the dinner dishes (since he cooked, it only seemed fair for me to clean up). I open the medicine cabinet and find them, lined up on the bottom shelf. There are my birth control pills, the sleeping pills, and a third bottle that is meant to aid Peeta's continual recovery from the hijacking. I'm glad there aren't any meds that are supposed to improve my mental health; I guess Dr. Aurelius didn't think I'd need them. I hope he's right.

I put my bow and arrows away in the front closet, and am just hanging up my father's jacket when I hear Peeta coming down the stairs. I meet him in the living room, unable to resist beaming as I take in the sight of him. His dry hair is still a little messy and he's only wearing his sleeping pants, no shirt. His eyes are wide and, for a second, he looks worried. But then, probably due to seeing how happy I am, his face relaxes. He holds his arms out and we quickly eliminate the distance between us and hug tightly.