A/N: Please note that there is a significant time jump from chapter 13 to 14. This takes place approximately 6 months later, in June.

Thanks to my beta sunfishdunes for all her help.

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Only two chapters left after this one! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

"Katniss! Turn that thing off. I'm trying to watch TV," Prim orders, never even looking in my direction. She's lounging on the couch, staring intently at the screen as she balances a bowl of popcorn in her lap. My vacuuming is apparently interrupting her extremely important viewing of The Walking Dead.

I flip off the vacuum and let out an exasperated sigh. "I have to get this place cleaned up before Peeta comes. And it's going to take me awhile since no one is helping me," I tell her pointedly.

She snorts, still not removing her eyes from the television. "He won't notice, I promise."

I shake my head but leave the vacuum cleaner turned off, surveying the living and dining rooms. To be honest, our place is pretty clean, but I just want things to be perfect for Peeta's visit.

For the first time ever, Peeta is coming to DC for an entire week. Thinking back over the busy past year of back-and-forth travel for both of us, I think that the longest time we've ever spent together was four days. But since he can't afford plane tickets to visit me very often—he comes once a month at the most—Peeta suggested taking a longer trip to make up for it. I jumped at the chance, and we scheduled this trip as soon as we could find a week that worked for both of us.

We've been trying to think a bit more creatively about ways to be "together" over these past few months since we agreed to give our relationship another try. Even though we both prefer the times when we can be together in person, we know it's not feasible for that to happen very frequently. Our goal is to see each other once a month, whether he comes to DC or I go to Chicago. So far, that's working out for us.

And for the rest of the time…well, we're still figuring it out. But we're getting better at it. Obviously we spend a lot of time on the phone, sometimes to chat, or others times we might meet up for a "date" and watch TV or a movie together. (It's surprisingly not as awkward as I thought it would be.) From time to time, we Skype so that we can actually see each other's faces. We even send silly little gifts to one another for no particular reason. Basically, we do anything we can think of to make ourselves feel close.

I like to think that I'm getting used to this whole long-distance thing. I mean, it's not ideal by any stretch of the imagination—I still miss him like crazy and have to fight against my self-protective urges to pull away—but I'm starting to feel like we're making progress. That is, we're actually succeeding in repairing our relationship, or maybe even making it stronger.

Sometimes, though, it's still too much for me. I'm not ashamed to admit it. But if I reach the point where I miss Peeta too badly, and I'm about to break down and do something stupid, I just put myself on a plane to go see him. I've learned that missing him isn't a weakness, and I'm not a lesser person for sometimes having my emotions overtake me. Thankfully, though, that doesn't happen often. Peeta doesn't mind, either; allowing him to see me in a vulnerable light has brought us closer together.

I walk over to the couch and flop down next to Prim, stealing a handful of her popcorn. She's been really understanding about having Peeta invade our space for an entire week; I shouldn't get annoyed with her for not spending all her free time cleaning.

"Are you sure you're okay staying with Thresh?" I ask her.

She nods rapidly, chewing a mouthful of popcorn. "It'll be fine," she assures me. "He's much closer to the hospital anyway. Besides, I really don't want to be here during Peeta's visit. The walls upstairs are way too thin—"

"Okay, okay, enough!" I exclaim, playfully pushing her. "And that goes both ways since you've been bringing Thresh around. Peeta's only here maybe once a month," I say, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

Prim's been seeing her new boyfriend, Thresh, an oncology fellow at her hospital, for about four months now. He's fantastic for her, although I have to admit I was surprised when I first met him. He's practically her polar opposite in personality—quiet, serious, introverted—but then I remembered how different Peeta and I are. And somehow we work, so why can't Prim and Thresh?

Prim blushes and abruptly changes the subject. "It's your one year anniversary, Katniss, can you believe it?" She shakes her head. "I know I can't."

"Well…" I respond hesitantly, "we were broken up for a while there…"

"Don't be so technical about it!" Prim scoffs. "It's been a year since you two found each other again in Chicago. I still can't get over how romantic it was," she sighs.

"I've never had an anniversary with anyone before," I muse.

"Well, you deserve it," she affirms. "You two make the cutest couple. You can't keep your hands off each other when you're together—it's so sweet!"

"It's just because we don't see each other very often," I mumble, sinking down further into the couch. I still don't like the idea of my little sister noticing anything about my physical relationship with Peeta.

Prim and I are silent for a few minutes, distracted by the television. "Effie's been asking me how serious you two are," she remarks nonchalantly, her eyes fixed on the screen.

I groan and clutch a throw pillow to my chest. "Me, too. It makes me uncomfortable," I respond.

"Oh, it's harmless," Prim says dismissively. "She just wants to plan your wedding."

I look at her in shock and Prim bursts out laughing. "That's not funny," I huff. "Maybe I should just distract her with some details about you and Thresh, hmm?"

Prim ignores my teasing and turns right back to talking about me. "She thinks you're moving to Chicago."

"I know!" I exclaim exasperatedly, letting my head fall back against the couch. I turn onto my side and look at Prim. "But I'm definitely not. She just doesn't believe me when I tell her that."

Prim turns to face me and gives me a curious look. "Really? You've never even considered it?"

"Umm…I just…I haven't thought that far ahead," I say, feeling a bit awkward. "Peeta and I have had enough other stuff to deal with."

"Fair enough," she shrugs. "But you guys have spent, like, a year apart. That can't be fun."

"Trust me, I know. I've learned to deal with it though," I reply honestly.

Prim stares at me for a moment, cocking her head to the side with a strange look on her face that I can't quite read. Finally, she stands and stretches her arms over her head. "Anyway…I have an early day tomorrow. Gotta get to bed. Good night!"

"Night, Prim," I call as she makes her way upstairs.

I turn back to the television, but find myself unable to pay attention, distracted by my thoughts about what Prim just said. I avoided her questioning, but the truth is, I have given some thought to moving to Chicago. Or at least, I've considered what it might be like if Peeta and I lived closer together. No one wants to be in a long-distance relationship forever, right? So either the relationship itself has to end (and Peeta and I already tried that—it didn't work) or the long-distance part has to end.

After almost a year, I feel reasonably certain that Peeta and I are committed to being together. I don't see myself with anyone else in the future, and I feel more than ready to jettison the long-distance part of our relationship. But given what that would mean—one of us leaving behind our home, moving hundreds of miles to a new city—I want to be completely certain that it's a step I'm ready to take. Actually, we both need to be sure we're ready, and we haven't even talked about it yet. That has to happen before we make any impulsive decisions.

Peeta's arriving tomorrow, and I'm so eager to see him that I think I've already finished everything I need to get ready. Changed my sheets, cleaned the bathroom, went grocery shopping…I can't think of anything else I need to do. I'm in the kitchen trying to decide whether I need to clean the floors—will Peeta really mind?—when I hear my phone ring in the living room.

It's probably Peeta, so I hurry across the room to pick it up. But I'm surprised and honestly a bit confused when I see Johanna's name on the screen. She and I are good friends at work, but we don't usually talk outside of the office.

"Hello?" I greet her, curious to find out why she's calling me on a Sunday night.

"Hey, Everdeen," she responds bluntly. "Have a minute?"

"Sure…" I offer hesitantly. "What's up?"

"So I have some news," she informs me, "and I wanted to make sure you know so you aren't surprised when you come back to work next week."

"Okay…"

"And don't tell anyone yet. If you do, Everdeen, I swear to god—"

"Geez, Jo, you haven't even told me anything. I promise I won't say a word," I assure her, rolling my eyes.

"Alright." She pauses for a moment and I hear her sigh on the other end of the phone. "I'm leaving D12. I'm telling Plutarch tomorrow."

"What?" I breathe out, running my free hand over my face. I sink down onto the couch in shock. Plutarch's going to be so traumatized by this. Jo's one of the best employees he has. "Why?"

"It's a long, boring story, but basically my mom's health is taking a nosedive, and I need to move back to Minnesota. I've been talking to Plutarch about full-time telework, but he won't do it. He says it's important to be 'part of the office,'" she recounts bitterly.

"That's crazy!" I burst out. "We travel half the time anyway! Why does it matter so much?"

"I know," she agrees. "He and I've been talking about this for at least a month, but the idiot won't budge. I don't have a choice."

"He doesn't know what he's doing," I sputter disbelievingly. "He's got to back down when you tell him you're resigning—right?"

"He's living in the dark ages, Kat. D12 is going to lose so many good people with that kind of attitude…" Johanna continues ranting about her frustrations with Plutarch, but my mind inadvertently starts to wander. It hits me unexpectedly that this news has bigger implications for me than just losing a friend at work—all of a sudden, one of my options for being with Peeta is closed off. I can't move to Chicago, even if I wanted to. If I want to keep my job, that is.

In the back of my mind, even though I haven't allowed myself to very seriously entertain thoughts of Peeta and I living in the same place, I'd always assumed that I could keep my job if I decided to leave DC. It was actually always a comforting thought. That if we felt we were ready, if we both wanted to make that leap, that we had at least one sure thing, one easy option.

Apparently I was naïve. I'm not sure I even want to leave DC—because let's face it, that means leaving Prim and Effie, and I just don't know if I could do that—but I feel inexplicably angry that this possibility has been taken away from me.

Soon I realize that Johanna's gone silent on the other end of the phone, waiting for me to respond. I say something supportive yet vague, since I missed most of her tirade while I was thinking about my own situation. Thankfully it seems to satisfy her.

"Just keep this to yourself, okay?" she reminds me. "It'll be common knowledge by the time you come back from your week off, though."

"I will." I pause for just a moment, feeling guilty that I let my own problems distract me from her news. "I'm gonna miss you, Jo," I tell her sincerely.

"Well, I don't want to leave either," she says flatly. "Anyway, I gotta go. Let's have lunch next week, okay?"

"Sure, of course. Bye, Jo."

I hang up the phone, feeling drained and depressed. I'm really unhappy that Jo is moving away, and I'm sympathetic to her situation with her mom—but as much as I hate to admit it, it's my own situation that's weighing on my mind the most right now.

Why does this news bother me so much? Hearing news like this should make me more unsure of my prospects of moving forward with Peeta, because usually I can't help but focus on the details. To be together, one of us has to move. And now it sounds like it can't be me, unless I want to give up my job, my security, and everything I've been working for all these years.

But it's almost had the opposite effect, somehow crystallizing for me exactly how badly I want to end the long-distance part of my relationship with Peeta and find a way to be with him permanently. For most people, I'd imagine that big epiphanies like this happen when all the pieces are falling into the right places and everything's making perfect sense. Not me; apparently I don't figure things out until everything's falling apart. Nothing makes sense right now, except for my growing certainty that this is a problem I need to fix.

"You're going to love this place, I promise," I assure Peeta as we walk hand-in-hand down the street, away from my parked car. It's a really sticky and hot night—even for June—so I rush him toward the restaurant, wanting to get inside as soon as possible.

"I'm sure I will," Peeta tells me, pulling on my arm to slow me down. Apparently this kind of weather doesn't faze him at all. At least, it doesn't seem to turn his hair into a giant ball of frizz like mine will be soon if we don't get inside. "But we didn't need to do anything fancy," he says as he slips his arm around my waist.

"I know, but I've been dying for an excuse to come back here," I respond as we walk down the narrow alleyway and step inside the small restaurant. "And this is as good a reason as any." I stand on my tiptoes and give him a quick peck on the lips before we're led to our table. Peeta looks over his shoulder at me, smiling and squeezing my fingers as we follow the host.

We take our seats and start looking over the menu. "Come here often?" Peeta asks without raising his head.

I laugh quietly as I consider my options. "No! Do you see these prices?"

"Right…" he muses. "Should I do five, seven, or nine courses?" he asks, looking up and cocking his eyebrow at me questioningly.

"Don't do more than five," I warn him. "It's plenty of food."

"But nine courses is only $30 more than five."

"Just trust me," I admonish him.

"Alright," he nods, absently reaching across the table to grab my hand. I'm momentarily distracted by the feeling of him stroking his thumb back and forth over my skin as he continues reading. I can't stop myself from staring at our joined hands, reveling in how content even this little touch makes me feel. But soon he breaks me out of my reverie. "I just don't know how to choose," he confesses.

I shrug. "Well…last time I let the chef choose my dishes. I think I might do that again."

His eyes widen and he smirks at me. "Katniss Everdeen, giving up control? This is huge," he teases.

"Not another word!" I tell him, pulling my hand away from his and crossing my arms over my chest in mock indignation.

He laughs softly, his deep blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, you've never steered me wrong before," he says, leaning forward and winking at me. "I'll do the same."

Our waiter comes, and rather than allow him to spend several minutes explaining the menu, Peeta quickly orders for both of us. "Well, that was easy," he remarks as the waiter leaves.

"Anything to get our food here faster," I joke.

I'm silent for a moment as the waiter comes to bring the bottle of wine that we ordered. As soon as we're alone again, I remember something I've wanted to ask Peeta all day. "So—tell me what you thought of Thresh!"

In all the months that Prim and Thresh have been dating, he and Peeta had never met. With Peeta being in DC so rarely, and with Thresh's busy schedule seeing patients, the timing had never worked out. Until earlier today, that is, when we finally found a time that we could all meet. I know that Peeta's become protective of Prim over the months we've been dating—almost like she's his little sister—so I was dying to hear his opinion of her new boyfriend.

"I can't believe I finally got to meet him," he says. "He's…intimidating."

"Right?" I exclaim. "He left that same impression on me when we first met, but he'll warm up to you. He doesn't seem like Prim's type at all, but they get along so well." I laugh softly to myself and shake my head. "I've spent a lot of time as the third wheel when they hang out at home, so I feel like I've gotten to know him pretty well."

Peeta smiles widely at the thought. "Well, I'm just glad I was finally here long enough to meet him."

"Me too," I agree. "You've been here five whole nights, Peeta. This is a first for us. I can hardly believe it."

He reaches across the table and slides his hands into mine, squeezing gently. The look on his face becomes regretful. "But I have to leave in two days," he sighs. "I'm not looking forward to that. I'm just getting used to this."

"This?"

"You know," he replies slowly, thoughtfully. "This. Just…getting to see you all day long and be with you whenever I want."

I look up at him, and it hurts me to see even the tiny bit of sadness that is undeniably present in his eyes. I know exactly how he feels. "Yeah…" I trail off, unable to bring myself to say anything that could make him feel better or minimize how he's feeling. Since I can't think of something positive to say, I resort to changing the subject. "By the way…happy 'anniversary,' or whatever we're calling this."

"Happy anniversary to you, too. I can hardly believe it," he says, shaking his head.

"I know, it feels like it's been forever," I joke, falling back into my chair exaggeratedly. He rolls his eyes at me and I straighten up in my seat. "Seriously, Peeta, this has been the best year. For the most part," I add with a slight chuckle.

"Yeah," he says quietly, giving me an intense look that I can't meet for long. "It really has been."

We're both silent for a few minutes. Neither of us wants this to be a sad evening—and it isn't—but it's hard to completely ignore the reality of our situation, as much as we might want to. Nights like these happen very rarely. This week together isn't going to be repeated anytime soon.

Finally I break the silence. "I'll be in Chicago in three weeks," I say hopefully. That fact doesn't really make me feel better, and from the look on his face, it doesn't help him either. "We'll survive, right?"

He pouts. "I guess so."

"Oh, don't do that," I chide him. "I feel bad enough as is. And this is supposed to be a happy evening!"

"You're right," he tells me, making a visible effort to cheer himself up. "I just miss you so damn much when we're apart."

"Well," I respond, gripping his fingers tightly and looking him straight in the eyes, "you're not the only one."

I can't sleep.

This in and of itself is a bit strange, given that Peeta's lying in my bed right next to me. I usually sleep well when he's here, but tonight I'm unsettled. He doesn't seem to be, though—from the slow, regular sounds of his breathing, I can tell he's sound asleep.

I keep my eyes closed and try to clear my mind of all the jumbled thoughts racing through it. I try to slow down my breathing to mimic Peeta's. I try to focus on the warmth radiating from his body, on the way his arm drapes over my waist, on how I can just barely feel his breath tickling the back of my neck. None of it works, though. I just can't shut my brain off.

Finally I give in and open my eyes, rolling carefully onto my back so that I don't wake Peeta. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what exactly is wrong. I've been enjoying a wonderful week with Peeta, being able to spend virtually all day every day with him. Just the two of us. It's been one of the best weeks I've had in a long time.

But that's part of the problem, isn't it? As much as I miss Peeta whenever he's in Chicago, and as much as I hate the fact that I can't see him whenever I want, having him to myself for the first time for an extended period has really underscored how badly I want some kind of a future with him that doesn't involve the distance. Missing him is one thing, but having him here and seeing what things could be like if we really were together all the time? That's something else entirely.

Okay, so I know that I've spent a lot of time with him in the past—we spend weekends together on a semi-regular basis—but I guess it's only recently that I've really started to let myself think about our time together in a different way. That this isn't how things always have to be. This is how they are now, but we can change it—if we want to.

I don't want this to end. I don't want to let him go.

As much as I try to be strong for Peeta and act like it doesn't bother me too much when we have to leave each other, that's all it is—just an act. It's not that I'm lying to him, but up until recently, I've never felt that there was any point in complaining about our situation too much. Accepting it made a lot more sense to me. Changing it never entered my mind.

We've been spending so much time recently trying to "perfect" our long-distance relationship (not that perfection is actually possible) that a part of me irrationally feels that all that effort would go to waste if we change things. But then I remind myself that nothing's really meant to stay the same forever, and I'm feeling more and more certain that I'm ready for a change.

I shift slowly onto my side to face Peeta's sleeping form. I try not to stare, but he looks so peaceful and somehow almost—I don't know, happy? —when he sleeps, that I just can't stop myself. Soon enough, though, a feeling that I'm invading his privacy by looking at him like this overtakes me, and I turn away and return to lying on my back.

What I wouldn't give to be able to have him here like this every night.

Of course, Peeta and I haven't even talked about the next step in our relationship—maybe we should've by now, but we haven't—so I have no idea if we're on the same page. Maybe we don't even have the same view as to what our "next step" really is. I'm not sure if Peeta thinks he's ready—or thinks we're ready as a couple—to get more serious.

But I know that the only way for me to find out is to talk to him about it. And that makes me nervous for so many reasons. What if he says no? What if he's not on the same page as me about moving forward? Could bringing this up ruin things between us? In typical Katniss fashion, I've already thought of a million reasons not to talk to him. The difference is, this time I'm going to ignore my doubts about the conversation, act like an adult, and do it anyway.

I don't know whether this is really the right time to discuss this, but it's probably as good a time as any. I've been thinking too much about our future, to the point where it's really eating away at me. I know from previous experience that bottling this up will only lead to problems, and I don't want to put Peeta through another emotional explosion.

All I know at this point is that whenever I think about my future, I always see him in it. And that has to mean something.

It's mid-afternoon on a Thursday, I'm wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt, and I'm walking around—slowly—on Capitol Hill. "I feel like a tourist," I say nervously to Peeta, attempting to force him to walk faster, as if that'll somehow make it obvious that I'm a local. "I'm never out at this time of day."

"I am a tourist!" he exclaims loudly, and I try to shush him, suddenly hyper-aware of all the actual tourists walking around near us.

"No, you're not," I argue, smiling as he pulls me close to him and kisses my cheek. "You're here visiting your girlfriend. Huge difference."

"But I don't live here," Peeta points out as we walk hand-in-hand toward my street. Thankfully, the crowds of tourists start to thin out as we move further away from the Capitol and closer to the Eastern Market.

"Here's how I look at it," I explain, turning to him in mock seriousness. "A 'tourist' is someone who comes here to, maybe, see the Washington Monument or visit the Smithsonian. It's all about intent," I emphasize.

Peeta laughs and drops my hand in favor of sliding his arm around my waist. I lean on his shoulder and smile up at him. "I won't argue," he tells me playfully. "I see you've got this all figured out."

We walk in a comfortable silence for a few blocks, content to enjoy just being together. Peeta's leaving tomorrow, but neither one of us wants to ruin our mood today by mentioning that fact out loud. It'll happen soon enough, no matter what we say or do. Before long, we reach my street and turn down it, strolling past the colorful rowhouses until we reach mine.

Peeta follows me up the steep staircase to my front door, standing patiently behind me as I sort through my purse to find my key. I'm glad he can't see my face right now, because I'm working up the courage to tell him what's been on my mind all week, and I'm pretty sure that anxiety is written all over it.

We walk inside and I sigh in relief as the air conditioning hits me. Peeta loops an arm quickly around my waist and kisses my neck, telling me that he's going to the kitchen to get us some water. I settle onto the couch in the living room, leaning back into the cushions and closing my eyes. When Peeta returns with my water, I smile at him gratefully before eagerly swallowing nearly half the glass.

Carefully placing my cup on the coffee table, I turn to face Peeta. "So…I've been thinking," I begin cautiously.

"About what?" Peeta asks, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me to rest at his side.

"About, um…us."

I can feel Peeta stiffen at my side and slightly tighten his grip on me. I angle my head to look up at him and see that he's trying his best to keep a look of alarm off his face. "It's nothing bad," I reassure him, reaching over to pull his free hand into both of mine. He relaxes somewhat at my words, but I'm still really nervous about what I'm going to say. "Just about…the future—our future, I guess."

"Uh-huh," Peeta says slowly, still clearly anxious about where I'm heading with this. "What about it?"

I gulp apprehensively. Spit it out, Katniss. "Well, we've been together for a year now. But…I don't want to be long-distance forever."

Peeta nods. "Yeah, me neither."

Of course Peeta would say that. Of course he would agree that he doesn't want us to be long-distance forever. But he has no idea that I actually want to do something about it. And, as happens so often, my words fail me at the worst possible time. "Really? I just…don't know what to do next," I mumble.

He shrugs. "Obviously one of us has to move," he says quickly, in a matter-of-fact tone. I furrow my brow and look up at him in shock. Did he really just say that? Is it really that simple to him? It almost sounds like he's been thinking about this, too.

"Yeah, I…I realize that," I stutter. "But I mean, like, how do we decide? You know, if we're ready. And who would move? I just…" I trail off, shaking my head.

"One thing at a time, I think," Peeta says thoughtfully, looking down at me with a slight smile. "Do you think you're ready for something like that? That's really the first question to answer before we start talking about moving or stuff like that."

Peeta's gaze is a little too intense for me right now, so I turn my head and stare at the wall in front of me. "Well…I guess I've been feeling ready," I muse. "That's why I brought it up."

"Okay, that was easy," Peeta says teasingly.

I choose to ignore his joking. Suddenly I'm filled with an overwhelming urge to explain myself further, and I plunge forward even though I know that I'm unlikely to be able to express myself very articulately. "I just mean…I've been feeling like it's time to take the next step. The constant goodbyes and the distance stuff is getting old. I'm so tired of it, you know? I miss you." I drop my face into my hands. "I can't believe I'm saying this. It's so hard."

"Hey, hey, don't," Peeta says gently, removing my hands from my face and turning me toward him. He takes my head in his hands and softly touches his lips to mine. "You can tell me anything," he murmurs as I drop my forehead to his shoulder.

"What about you?" I ask him, my voice muffled by his shirt. "How do you feel about…what I said?"

Peeta's hand rubs my back reassuringly as I lean against him. "I've been thinking about it, too. Probably for longer than you have," he admits.

I process this silently for a few moments. "Why didn't you say anything?" I finally ask.

"I was just thinking about it. I wasn't ready to talk," he explains slowly.

"Are you ready now?" I ask shyly, lifting my eyes to meet his. "What do you think?"

"I think…" he begins tentatively, as if he's searching for the right words. Abruptly he hugs me tightly to his chest before he continues more confidently. "I'm getting tired of spending most of our time apart. I'm tired of missing you all the time. I think it's time for us to start seriously trying to figure out what to do next."

I nod against his chest, returning his embrace. "Right. But do you really want to?"

"I do," he affirms.

"You want to live…with me?" I ask, trying to be absolutely certain that we're talking about the same thing. I'm still not sure I quite believe it.

"No, I can live near you. But I need my space," he teases.

I awkwardly slap his arm without leaving his embrace. "No joking," I warn him. "This is serious!"

Peeta laughs and tilts my chin up to him, leaning down to capture my mouth with his. This kiss almost feels like a celebration, like a promise of our future together. I'm feeling so giddy I'm surprised I'm even able to return the kiss—I can feel the smile trying to make its way across my face.

Eventually I pull away to catch my breath and we lean our foreheads together. "So…what do we do now?" I ask, panting slightly.

Peeta shrugs, slipping his hand into my hair and dragging my face back to his. "We need to talk, I guess," he murmurs against my mouth. "Figure out exactly how to pull this off," he tells me, before we lose ourselves in each other once again.