At long last, here it is - the last chapter of TMW. I'm sorry it's taken me two months to get this out to you, but as everyone who has written a multi-chapter fic knows, writing the last chapter is hard! I have no idea how many times I've rewritten this chapter – in fact, I don't want to know. LOL But I hope you'll think that it was worth the wait. There's a short epilogue as well, which I'll post in a few weeks.

Thank you to Lbug84, who's the best beta I could ever ask for! And thank you to Chelzie, who fixes all my grammar and preread this (long!) chapter in just a couple of days so I could get this chapter out to you this weekend!

Chapter 24: Real

Katniss POV

It's late when Peeta arrives home. He embraces me as soon as he's through the door. He smells different. He smells of the Capitol. But he came home to me, just like he'd promised.

When I try to kiss him, he turns his head to the side. My lips meet his cleanly shaven cheek. "I really need to shower," he says apologetically. He does give me a lingering kiss on the forehead, though.

He's in the shower for nearly half an hour. When he finally comes out, I'm waiting for him in bed. I sit with my back against the headboard and my hands around my knees, looking hesitantly up at him. He's only wearing a pair of boxer-briefs. He looks like he can barely keep his eyes open.

He slips under the sheet. "I'm so tired, Katniss," he mumbles against my hair. His eyes flutter shut, and he falls asleep almost instantly.

He smells like himself now. Of his own soap, of 12. But I know that not everything from the Capitol can be washed away.

It almost broke me to know that Peeta left me to go to the Capitol, to have sex with countless other women and even men. But Peeta urged me to go through the motions while he was gone. Play with the children. Cook. Visit Prim. Go for walks. Check on Haymitch. So I did.

The days were okay, mainly because the kids kept me too busy to think about the Capitol, but the nights were difficult. It was hard to fall asleep in a cold and empty bed, wondering whose bed Peeta was in that night. Prim worried about me. She said that I was pale and had dark rings under my eyes. I didn't tell her why I couldn't sleep.

But Peeta is home at last. He's so warm, and I feel his steady heartbeat under my fingers. Even though I try to stay awake, to revel in the feeling of being near him again, I fall asleep quickly too.

Xoxoxoxox

I'm woken up by roaming hands and hot breath against my skin. My knee is wedged between thick, muscular thighs, and I can feel hardened flesh pressing against my hip.

"Peeta…" I moan, still half asleep. I open my eyes, blinking against the light of the bedside lamp. "What time is it?" I rub my eyes, trying to clear my head. But it's not easy to think clearly when he's rolling one of my nipples between his fingers. I involuntarily buck against him, a deep moan starting in the back of my throat.

"I don't know," he groans.

I turn around to look at the alarm clock on the night stand. It's three in the morning. "What woke you? Was it a nightmare?"

"No," he whispers, and his tongue darts out to lick the sensitive skin over my throat. He tugs at my nightdress, and I sit up, helping him take it off by raising my hands above my head. I quickly take off my panties, too. They're soaking wet already. His eyes darken when he looks at my naked body. I tear at his boxer-briefs, probably hindering more than helping him.

We rediscover each other with our lips, tongues, hands and skin. But it's hard not to wonder what he's done with them when his tongue flicks over my clit. It's hard not to think about what they have done to him when my fingers close around his cock, and he hisses something I can't quite make out in response. Maybe that's why we both keep our eyes open the entire time. Maybe that's why we are face to face, always, except when he goes down on me. And even then, he looks up at me most of the time, and I look down at him, resting on my elbows, only closing my eyes when I come.

When I find the strength to open my eyes again, he's hovering above me, his chin still moist from my desire. His lips meet mine, and I taste myself on his lips and tongue. I moan into his mouth, squirming to position him against my entrance. The tip of his cock slides over my slick, swollen folds, and he's close, so close. Then, to my disappointment, he pulls away. For a moment, I think he's rejecting me. I open my mouth to say something, I don't know what, but then I see what he's doing. He's moving off of me to lie down on his back. He pulls me along with him so that I'm straddling him.

"I want to see you," he says in a dark, deep voice that makes my entire body tingle in anticipation. I nod, intensely relieved. I slide against him a few times, coating his cock in me while stimulating my clit, which is still overly sensitive from my orgasm. Then I sneak a hand down between us, guiding him. He gasps when the head of his cock slips inside me, and my eyes don't leave his for a second as I slowly sink down on him. It's been a while, and I have to take him in slowly, allowing my body some time to adjust. When our hips are flush, I'm deliciously full. I squeeze around him, and he arches his back in response. "Katniss," he whispers. "Katniss."

I move my hips slowly, taking him deeply. His hips thrust up to meet mine, and I have to bite my lip to stay at least mostly quiet so I don't wake the children. His hands are on my hips, guiding them, making me take him even deeper. His eyes are fixed on my face. I grit my teeth as I realize that it's going to take time to chase the ghosts out of our bed. But I am determined not to let them take him from me tonight. My hair hangs like a curtain around his face as I look down at him, and there's nothing, no one, but us.

I can't hold back a moan when he traces perfect circles around my clit with his fingers. "I want you to come, just like this," he says, his voice low. "Just you and me, so close."

I nod furiously. I'm quickly approaching the brink again. I give up trying to stay in control of the depth and the pace. I let him thrust into me as his fingers stroke me just right. "I'm coming," I whimper desperately as I feel my body start to contract.

"Come for me, Katniss," he groans, thrusting deeply into me again, and I do. I come for him.

I slump down on his chest, but Peeta only allows me catch my breath briefly before he turns us around. My body is limp; I'm barely able to move. He slips out of me, but enters me again as soon as we're lying on our sides, facing each other, my thigh draped over his hip.

He fucks me, loves me, slowly and as deeply as the position allows. By the time he finally lets go, pulsing deep inside me, I've lost count of the number of times he's made me come.

Afterward, we don't speak. But our hands, lovingly and soothingly roaming over each other's bodies, say everything.

Xoxoxoxo

I blink against the morning light. My entire body aches, but in a good way. Peeta is already up; I can hear him in the bathroom. I consider joining him, but I can hear through the wall that Ivy has woken up as well.

"I can go get her," Peeta says, coming out of the bathroom. He is drying his hair, wearing only a towel around his hips. "If that's okay?" I nod, and he smiles. "Thank you."

I study him in the morning light as he gets dressed. Smooth, pale skin, blond hair trailing down from his belly button, perfectly chiseled muscles. When he's dressed, he crawls over to me in bed. His pupils dilate when he looks at me. I know I must be a post-coital mess, still sleepy and with crazy hair, but I know that Peeta loves seeing me like this. He kisses me on the lips and runs his finger along my collarbone.

A few moments later, when he steps into Ivy's bedroom, I hear my daughter squeal from joy. My guess is that he's holding her upside down and tickling her. She loves that.

We have breakfast together, all four of us. The children are ecstatic that Peeta is home. "Can you walk me to school, Peeta?" Arrow asks with shining eyes, and Peeta's face breaks into a smile.

"Yes, of course," he answers. But I notice that his voice is not quite clear.

In the afternoon, after Arrow is home from school, Peeta gives the children the presents he bought for them in the Capitol. Arrow enjoys a book about nature in the different districts. Ivy receives wooden building blocks in many different colors. I don't complain that those building blocks, while surely educational, are going to be all over the house in a matter of hours, and I'll probably be the one who has to pick them up.

"Cashmere says hi," Peeta tells the children. "And Finnick, too. You remember them, right? They came to visit us last spring?" They came to visit Peeta. But I don't correct him.

"Of course." Arrow, being the seven-year-old that he is, rolls his eyes at the thought that he'd forgotten our houseguests. Ivy is already busy throwing building blocks.

"I have a surprise from Finnick for you too," he says.

Ivy pauses with a block in her hand and looks up at Peeta. Her little face is suddenly serious. She clearly understands the significance of the word 'surprise.'

Finnick has sent some sea shells from 4. The children have never seen real sea shells before, and to be honest, neither have I. We compare the seashells to the photos in Arrow's new book, and find out what they are called. Arrow asks Peeta a lot of questions about the ocean. Peeta has only seen the ocean once, on his Victory tour, but it's clear he made the most of his visit, because he can answer most of Arrow's questions.

"The water tastes salty," Peeta explains. He dissolves some salt in a cup of water. Arrow coughs and grimaces when he tastes it, and says that he prefers the water in 12. It's hard for Arrow to picture a body of water that's so big you can't see the end of it. It's hard for me to imagine, too, even though I've seen the lake.

The children are exhausted after all the excitement of the day, and they fall asleep almost before their heads hit their pillows. When I come downstairs, Peeta is waiting for me on the couch. I curl up with him under the blanket.

Peeta reaches between the pillows and gives me a small, black box that he must've hidden there. "For you."

I sit up, looking at it curiously. "What is it?"

"Open it."

My fingers trace the elegant curves of the golden 'C' on the velvet lid. "Cinna?"

"Yes. He's branching out from clothing." I open the box, and gasp in surprise. It's a single-stranded pearl necklace. The surface of the pearl is iridescent. I've never seen anything like it. The necklace is so elegant and pure that you'd never think it was from the Capitol. "I saw this, and I thought… This necklace was made for you."

I take the necklace out of the box. I've never had any jewelry before, aside from my wedding ring. His fingers brush the skin of my neck lightly as he helps me put it on, sitting behind me. He places a kiss at the back of my neck when he's done.

I get up from the couch and go to the hallway to look at myself in the mirror. "It's beautiful," I tell him. "Thank you."

He rests his hands on my hips, standing behind me with his chin resting on top of my head. "Cinna says hi, by the way."

"I'm surprised he even remembers who I am," I admit. Why would he care about me, a nobody from 12?

"You must've caught his attention."

"How many stories have you told him about me?" I narrow my eyes suspiciously and turn around in his arms, facing him.

"Not that many," he assures me. I'm not sure if I believe him. "But I did make a pencil sketch of you, so he knows what you look like."

"Really?" I blush.

"Yeah. He says it's a shame you don't live in the Capitol, because he would've asked you to model for him if you did." I snort. "I told him that modeling is probably not your thing," he laughs, his breathing starting to get more labored as I unzip his jeans.

Xoxoxoxoxoxox

It's a cold December day. It was cold four years ago, too, but unlike today, it rained non-stop. We were pretty sure Prim was having twins, but there wasn't much we could do but wait. As the hours went on, I could see the fear in Mother's eyes. Fear that we'd lose them, but most of all, that we'd lose her. It was nothing like when I gave birth to Arrow or Ivy. Both births were excruciating, but they were relatively quick and uncomplicated, and I never saw fear in Mother's eyes.

I turn away from the window. "Are you nervous?" I blurt out. Peeta looks up from his newspaper.

"Yes," he admits. "Are you?"

"Yes."

I think back to the last time I spoke with Prim.

"So, I feel like I should invite Peeta to the party," Prim said. We had just eaten lunch, and the children were playing together. "He's your… well. I'm not sure what he is exactly, but you're definitely together, and as my sister's significant other, I should invite him to the boys' birthday party."

"It matters to the rest of 12 that he doesn't have a title," I mutter.

"I know, which is why I'm not quite sure what to do. Well, I don't care really about what 'the rest of 12' thinks, but I want to invite Hazelle and Posy too, and that makes it complicated."

"Yes." I swallowed. Peeta and Hazelle in the same room? I had no idea how to deal with that.

"So I was thinking that I can say to Hazelle – gently – that Peeta is going to be there. And if she doesn't want to come, then it's up to her and that we completely understand."

I cringed. "What if she can't do it? I'd feel terrible for being the reason why she doesn't come to the party."

"Do you have any other suggestions on how to deal with this situation, then?"

"No," I admit.

When we get to Prim's house, I hear the boys' excited squeals from outside the door, and I smile. To our great relief after so many hours of labor, both Thomas and Ridge cried as soon as they were born. Sometimes it seems as though they haven't stopped making noise since.

It's not a very big party, but Seam houses are small so the house feels very crowded. It's the four of us, plus Mother, of course. Thom's two brothers and their wives are here as well. They have seven children between them, aged one to nine, so that's obviously more than enough to keep the noise level high.

Posy and her husband, Slate, are here, too. They're standing next to Hazelle as I approach and greet them all. My mouth is dry when I hesitantly hug Hazelle. "It's good to see you, Katniss," she says, and then she shakes hands with Peeta.

"I don't think we've met before," she says. "I'm Hazelle Hawthorne."

"Peeta Mellark. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Posy and Slate are sitting close to each other. I can see that Posy's belly has started to swell. Far too much for a couple who got married only three months ago.

"You look wonderful," I tell her honestly, and Posy smiles back at me, a bit uncertainly. Her eyes are darting everywhere but at Peeta.

The adults seem more subdued than usual, but thankfully, there are lots of children to distract us. At least no one says anything unpleasant, even though Prim and Mother are the only two who actively try to get Peeta involved in the conversation. Peeta is unusually quiet, considering how easy-going and good with people he is. I can tell that he's uncomfortable, but hopefully I'm the only one who notices, because I know him so well. I know that this birthday party is going to be on everyone's lips tomorrow – not just in the Seam, but in Town as well.

After everyone has had several helpings of cake, I take the plates and glasses to the kitchen. Prim is busy trying to mediate between the birthday boys, who are high on sugar and currently fighting over the watercolor paints we got them for their birthday. Giving them watercolors was Peeta's idea, of course. I appreciate this brief time alone. The party is exhausting. I'm constantly worried that someone is going to say something to or about Peeta and me.

Hazelle steps into the kitchen with the empty coffee pot. I continue putting the plates into the sink, trying desperately to think of something safe to say, anything, but failing. The silence is thick in the room.

"Peeta seems to get along very well with Ivy and Arrow." Hazelle's voice is neutral, her face doesn't betray any emotion.

"Yes, he does." My voice cracks slightly. I clear my throat and continue. "He's not trying to take Gale's place, Hazelle. I hope things haven't come across the wrong way. Peeta is not their father."

Hazelle moves over to the sink and I sidestep so that she can fill up the coffee pot with fresh water. She doesn't answer right away, and her voice is quiet when she finally speaks. "Peeta saved my grandchildren's lives."

I think back to Ivy's thin arms and Arrow's big eyes. If I'd gone to Cray's that night, I would have been able to keep my children alive a while longer, but I don't think I could've held his attention for very long. Cray is all about conquest. Even though he had wanted me for years, he would've tired of me eventually. And then what?

I nod, unable to speak.

To my surprise, Hazelle actually smiles. It's a sad smile, but it's there. "I have eyes, Katniss. I can see it for myself. You don't stay in Peeta Mellark's house because you have to anymore."

"No, I don't."

She looks away, out of the window. There's a distant look in her eyes. "So few Seam widows remarry." That's because women outnumber men by far in the Seam. "I don't wish a life of loneliness for anyone."

I have no idea how to respond to that, but thankfully, I don't have to since Arrow runs into the kitchen, his cheeks red and a huge smile on his face. "We're painting!" he exclaims.

"Are you having fun?" I ask him.

He nods enthusiastically. "Where are the caramels Peeta and I made yesterday, Mama?" he asks. Peeta did most of the work, so Arrow wouldn't burn his fingers. But Arrow oversaw everything, and he is immensely proud of the result.

"They are in the bag over there." I nod towards the corner. "Make sure you pass them around so that everyone can get a taste, alright?"

"I will, Mama."

I smile as I see my son run back to the party, ecstatic to be sharing the caramels with everyone.

"He's a good boy," Hazelle says.

"Yes, he is," I smile.

"So was Peeta Mellark when he was a boy, despite how his mother treated him."

I think about the bread, about the beating. "Yes."

"Peeta's not really as privileged as the Capitol wants us to think, is he?"

I didn't know Hazelle had paid so much attention to Peeta over the years. More than I did, apparently. "How did you…"

"I've seen two victors drink themselves almost to death, despite their big houses, their fame and their money." She lowers her voice. "I've heard things over the years, too. Stories about the victors and the things they do in the Capitol that seemed too terrible for me to believe them at first. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if those stories just might be true." Her piercing gray eyes don't leave mine.

"We shouldn't talk about this," I whisper. "It might not be safe." Not even here, in the Seam, can I be certain that we are safe from the Capitol bugs.

"No. But talking should be safe."

Gale used to say the same thing.

She touches my shoulder briefly, as if to comfort me. Then she walks back into the living room, leaving me alone with the dishes. It takes me a few minutes to gather my composure enough to follow her.

The children are indeed painting, and to my surprise, Peeta is, too. All of the children are sitting on the floor, and Peeta is showing the youngest children how to paint. The oldest have already learned how in school. There aren't enough brushes for everyone, but they seem to be sharing and for once, there's no crying or fighting. Peeta is sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Ivy is sitting in front of him. I don't miss that most of the adults are more or less openly staring at him, but I choose to ignore it.

"What are you painting?" I sit down next to Peeta.

"A dandelion." He gives his painting to me. "Here. It's for you."

It's just a quick water color painting, done sitting on the floor with a 'helpful' toddler, but it's still beautiful in all its simplicity. The shade of yellow has the perfect hint of orange. "Pah-aye," Ivy says, pointing at a big, black dot in the lower right corner.

"Paint," I clarify, enunciating for her.

"We made the painting together," Peeta explains. I smile. It's pretty obvious who painted what.

"It's beautiful, Ivy. Thank you so much. Both of you."

I sit down by the table with the other adults. "Peeta's talented," Prim says, looking over my shoulder at the painting.

"Yes, he is. He's a painter and a baker."

"That's an odd way to describe a victor," Thom says.

I frown, but Peeta saves me from having to come up with an answer by getting up from the floor, holding Ivy's hand. I can tell he has overheard our conversation. Ivy hands Hazelle the painting that she was working on. "Ivy wanted you to have this," he says.

"Fi," Ivy says. Hazelle looks confused at the yellow and orange painting.

"Ivy says it's fire," Peeta explains.

Hazelle smiles widely, and holds out her arms for her granddaughter. "Thank you so much, baby girl." She gives Ivy a kiss on the cheek and holds her close until she starts squirming. Hazelle releases her, and she toddles back to the other children.

Hazelle's eyes lock with Peeta's. "Whose idea was it to paint fire – hers or yours?"

"Mine." He shrugs. "There was yellow left on the brush from painting the dandelion. Besides," he adds, "Ivy is a miner's daughter. So fire seems quite fitting, don't you think?"

The room is very quiet. Hazelle doesn't speak much for the rest of the party, and I catch her casting stolen glances at Peeta.

That night, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my hair. I'm wearing a tank top, a pair of Peeta's boxer shorts, and the pearl necklace he gave me. Even in the artificial light of the bathroom, the colors of the pearl seem to shift. Peeta enters the bathroom and stands behind me, slipping one arm around my waist while he pushes my hair out of the way with the other, allowing him to kiss my neck. He traces the thin necklace in white gold with his fingertips. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

"I wish I could give you a ring instead." I gasp and turn around, clutching the pearl, staring at him with wide eyes. Peeta looks flushed and embarrassed. Scared, even. "I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I shouldn't have said that. I know it can't happen, and that even if it were possible, it would be too soon."

"Do you…" I don't even know what I'm asking.

Peeta takes my hand in his. "I'm happy we went to the birthday party together," he says, "But it was frustrating to know that not everyone respects our relationship."

I'm barely able to get the words out. "We've made each other promises, too. They may be different from the ones other couples make in the Justice Building, but that doesn't make them less important or less valid."

He nods as he turns away from me, turning on the shower. I furrow my brow. I do know he likes to take a shower at night, but it doesn't feel as though we're done with this conversation. He turns back to face me and has an odd look on his face.

"One day, Katniss…" His voice trails off.

"One day what?"

He takes me in his arms, hugging me. His mouth is close to my ear. "One day, we'll be free." His voice is so low I can barely hear his words. I don't understand what he means. No one in Panem is free, least of all Peeta. Even when he gets too old to be sold, he'll still be a victor. He'll have to mentor, and the Capitol won't ever leave us alone.

Something in his eyes stops me from questioning him though. He gives me a kiss on the forehead, and then sheds his boxer briefs and steps into the shower.

Xoxoxoxoxox

The weeks pass. Midwinter, New Years' Eve. Peeta and I have started going to Town together regularly. The first time, it turned out that we'd both made plans to go at the same time without the other knowing, and it seemed stupid to go there just ten minutes apart. I was so nervous I could barely speak on our way there. I thought being seen in public together would just fuel the gossip.

People did stare; they didn't even attempt to hide it. Every time we entered a shop, all talk immediately stopped, but no one dared to say anything insulting to our faces. I am still hesitant, but we continue to go because Peeta says he's sick of hiding, and he just wants people to see that we're normal. Perhaps he has a point. Perhaps the more often we go to Town together, the more people will get used to us.

In January, we go to the Hob together for the first time. Peeta's been there many times before to buy white liquor, but I know what it's like when Town people go to the Hob – they go there, but they don't really understand it. That's why I'm not surprised when it turns out that Peeta has never eaten Greasy Sae's famous wild dog stew before. It's a pretty decent one today, but I make sure not to try to identify the ingredients. That's rule number one in the Hob, but of course Peeta doesn't know.

"It was very good," he says politely to Sae after he's finished his cup. "I didn't know there were any wild dogs inside the fence."

"There aren't," Sae says with a twinkle in her eyes. "Hasn't been any wild dog in my stew since Katniss here stopped huntin' a decade ago."

Peeta's eyes widen in shock, and he looks like he's about to vomit. "Oh."

I wink to him. "Don't ask what's in that stew instead of wild dog," I tell him. "You might not like the answer."

Sae laughs a hoarse, dark laughter. A few other people nearby laugh too, in the way they'd laugh at any Townie who had just tasted Greasy Sae's stew for the first time. "Don't worry, boy," she says. "It's the Thompsons' old nanny goat today. She must've been at least 15. I had to cook her for a day."

Peeta looks visibly relieved, despite the poor goat's advanced age, and I have to hide my smile.

As the weeks pass, people find things other than Peeta and me to gossip about. There's a fire, and two houses in the Seam burn down. The carpenter's wife has an affair with a miner. Principal Lakewood surprisingly loses his job.

Ivy learns new words almost every day, and I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoy the toddler stage. Having a baby is both amazing and exhausting, but having a toddler who I can actually speak with is so much fun. Arrow brings friends home from school sometimes, and he's started walking to school on his own. He laughs more, and he's become very attached to Peeta. Peeta teaches him to bake, and a few nights later, he even reads to my son at bedtime. Haymitch comes over for dinner several times a week. He still doesn't look healthy, but it seems like he's trying to at least cut down on his drinking, and he does take the drugs that the Capitol doctors prescribed for his liver.

"So what do you want to do for your birthday?" I ask Peeta one night. Last year I didn't know the date of his birthday, but I'm not going to miss it this year. "I'm not sure how you Townies celebrate birthdays."

"Well… uh, I was thinking maybe we could invite my family over for dinner?"

I freeze. "What?"

He looks uncomfortable. "Mistakes have been made on both our parts. I'd like to at least try to mend our relationship." He's clearly been giving this a lot of thought.

"And you think a dinner is going to fix it?"

"No," he admits. "But it might be a start."

I look down. "Your mother hates me. She thinks that I'm a whore."

"Don't say that word." He clenches his jaw. "You know it's not true."

If he really wants to try, I suppose I should at least give it a chance. It's Peeta's birthday, and it is his family. I take a deep breath. "If she's going to come to our house, there have to be some ground rules."

His features soften. "I understand, Katniss. Thank you." He leans forward to kiss me. "I'll have a talk with Mother first," he assures me. "I won't have her insulting you or the children."

I don't know whether a dinner is going to help, or if it's just going to make everything worse, but Peeta looks so relieved that I said yes that I don't have the heart to say anything more.

xoxoxoxoox

Peeta is downstairs putting the finishing touches on dinner while also keeping an eye on the children. I'm frantically going through my closet. How could I not think about what to wear for this stupid birthday dinner until now? My options are limited. The dresses from my mother's Merchant days are old and don't fit very well, and the dress Peeta got for me in the Capitol… I certainly can't wear that. Mrs. Mellark would have a heart attack. I take it out of the closet, admiring the way the fabric subtly changes color, making it almost seem like it is on fire. I do have plans for this dress later, though.

I finally settle on a dark green dress. It's the only nice thing I've bought for myself since I moved in here. I'm not used to having money to buy things for myself, and old habits die hard.

I go downstairs to help Peeta with setting the table. "You look beautiful," he smiles, kissing me on the cheek. "So remember, if Mother starts to act up, let me handle it. I'll throw her out if necessary."

"Okay."

I don't think I manage to hide how nervous I am, because he leaves the pot of sauce he's stirring to give me a hug. "I don't think she'll be mean to you, Katniss," he says reassuringly. "The power has shifted, and she knows it."

I realize that he's right when we are all sitting around the table. Mrs. Mellark doesn't say anything to me directly. In fact, she doesn't say much to anyone, but at least she's not openly insulting me. Thankfully, the three Mellark brothers keep the conversation going, so it's not as awkward as I had feared. The children help, too, especially Bannock's youngest. She is only five months old and a real charmer, sitting in Ivy's high chair, supported by pillows. Even Mrs. Mellark smiles when she's looking at her granddaughter. At last, there is a girl in the Mellark family. I hate how Mrs. Mellark is not paying nearly as much attention to her grandsons as she is to her granddaughter, though.

Rye's wife, Dahlia, offers to help me out in the kitchen after dinner. "I didn't know you were such a great cook, Katniss," Dahlia says. I look up at her in surprise, automatically searching her face for signs of her mocking me. I don't find any.

"Actually, Peeta's the cook in our house," I admit.

"Wow, so he bakes and cooks? Looks like I married the wrong Mellark." She laughs. "When Rye comes home from the bakery, he says the last thing he wants to do is make more food."

"I suppose that's understandable. Maybe Peeta would say the same thing if he were a full-time baker, too."

"Maybe." Dahlia hesitates before she continues. "Peeta is a different man now. Even Fennel knows why her son has stopped drinking and is actually smiling again, even though she'd never admit it."

"Mrs. Mellark still hates me," I mutter.

"Well, I'm from Town and I've been married to her son for 15 years, and she still barely tolerates me." Dahlia rolls her eyes. "You're lucky to live out here. Imagine what it's like to live in the same house as her." I cringe, and she laughs. "Exactly." We share a smile, and it's weird and good at the same time. To have a kind of companionship where I least expected it.

When we come back to the living room with the birthday cake, it's immediately clear that something has happened while we were in the kitchen. Peeta is sitting on the couch with Ivy on his lap, his jaw clenched. Everyone is looking at Mrs. Mellark, and it's very quiet in the room. I only hear the last part of her sentence. "… not proper."

Mrs. Mellark looks up and immediately closes her mouth when she sees me. I put the cake down on the table. Arrow comes up to me, his eyes dark and wary. I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Mama…"

"Arrow, can you please show the other children the toys in your room?" I say gently. I can tell that he understands. He nods.

"I will, Mama," Arrow says, a serious look on his face. "But the baby is perhaps a bit too small?"

"Yes," I smile. "She has to stay with her Mama. But I'm sure the other children would love to play with your toys."

"Yes, Mama."

"I can keep an eye on them," Dahlia offers. I nod gratefully.

I wait until they are all upstairs before I address Mrs. Mellark. "You were saying?"

"Your living arrangements are not proper. As Peeta's mother, as the mother of a victor, I feel it is my duty to…"

"Don't talk to me about duty," Peeta spits out. "Your duty as a parent was to treat your children well, to love them. Certainly not to hit defenseless little boys over the head with a rolling pin." She pales. "I invited you all here today because I hoped that we could be a family again, despite everything that has happened in the past. I am stretching out a hand here, but if you don't treat Katniss with respect, know that we can and WILL manage just fine without you in our lives."

Mrs. Mellark gasps. "You'd choose her over your own flesh and blood?"

Peeta gets up to stand next to me, and his fingers intertwine with mine. "Katniss and the children are my family now. And when you're family, you protect each other, no matter what."

I know what he's done to protect his family over the years, but they don't.

Mrs. Mellark's face is ashen as she stares at us, and for the first time, I see her for what she really is. She's an old woman who has had little joy in her life. She was her husband's second choice, she abused her children, and now she's lost the hold she once had on her family. What does she have left?

Yes, the power has definitely shifted.

When the guests have left and the children are in bed, I come downstairs to find Peeta sprawled out on the couch. "I haven't longed for a drink in months," he admits. "But right now, I do. You were right. This was a terrible idea."

"Well, I'm not so sure," I say, sitting down next to him. I take his hand. "Your mother will probably hate me no matter what, but I think the rest of your family might come around. I talked to Dahlia in the kitchen. She was… nice."

"She liked you. I could tell." He smiles.

It's weird to have Town people accept and even like me. "Maybe." It's almost too much to hope for. I take a deep breath. "I haven't given you your birthday present yet."

"It's fine, Katniss," he says. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Of course I had to get you a present. It's upstairs, though. I'll just go and get it."

I'm nervous, but I decide not to overthink it. Once in our room, I quickly shed my clothes – all of them - and put on Cinna's dress. I look at myself in the mirror. Slender curves, olive skin, and big, gray eyes. I unbraid my hair and run my fingers through it several times. It falls, thick and dark, in waves over my shoulders and back. There. Better. Peeta loves it when I wear my hair down.

He doesn't hear me come downstairs. He almost never does when I'm barefoot.

"Peeta."

He turns around, and his jaw drops as he sees me. His mouth opens and closes several times, and I can see his pupils dilate. "You…" is all he's able to say.

"Happy birthday, Peeta." I was never this forward, not before I met him. I've thought about this a lot, worrying that it was just silly. Offering to fulfill his fantasy as his birthday present. But I hadn't expected my heart to beat this wildly, to feel this surge of power.

He stands up from the couch. "Katniss, you… Fuck." His eyes travel up and down my body, and I can see that his pants are already tenting. I don't even try to hide a smile.

"You talked about taking me up against the fridge," I say, my voice dark. "Wearing this dress." I close the distance between us and nibble at his throat as my fingers open the first few buttons of his button-down shirt. "You were fantasizing…" My tongue flicks out to lick his collarbone, and he hisses. "… about this. About me."

"You're all I've ever fantasized about," he growls. "Katniss, you're killing me."

I chuckle. My lips crush against his, and our mouths barely leave each other as we move towards the kitchen. I'm undressing him as we go, and he almost trips on his pants. "So, Peeta," I tell him. "We're in the kitchen. What do you want to do with me?"

"Well, I have a lifetime of fantasies to choose from, so it's kind of hard to know where to start," he begins as he slides a hand up under my dress. He freezes as his hand touches bare skin. "You're… not wearing any underwear?" He takes a few deep breaths before he continues. "I swear I could come in my pants like a 16-year-old right now." I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling.

He lifts me up onto the kitchen counter. "Right here. Lean back." His voice is husky, and I feel myself getting wetter just from hearing it. I look down at his cock, fully erect and bobbing near his belly, and I lick my lips. He notices, and grins. "Not yet, Katniss," he winks.

Peeta pulls my lower body a bit closer to the edge and bunches the skirt of my dress up. He drops to his knees as he spreads my thighs open, and my back arches as his tongue touches me. He starts with exploring every fold, every crevice, but studiously avoids my clit. I can feel my arousal seeping out of me and I buck against him, trying to get him to touch the one spot that needs him the most right now. "What do you want, Katniss?" he says against my sex, as he hears my impatient whimpers and moans. "You need to say it."

It's hard to clear my head enough to speak. My back is going to kill me tomorrow because of this damn counter, but I don't care, not when his tongue is there. "Make me come," I whine. "Please."

His lips close around my clit, and I lose what little coherent thinking I had left. He tortures me by keeping me on the edge, almost forever, but denying me my release. Every time I'm about to come, he pauses just long enough for me to come down a little bit, and then he does it again. In the end, it's his teeth scraping very, very lightly over my clit that unravels me.

After, I realize that my thighs are clamping onto his head, and I release him. He chuckles, getting up to stand between my legs. He suckles on his fingers, drenched with my juices, as he holds my gaze.

He helps me down from the counter, and I'm glad I have him to hold on to, because I'm not sure if my legs would support my weight right now if I hadn't. My hand sneaks down to his cock, pumping his erection slowly. He bunches my skirt up over my hips again and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his hips as he presses my back against the fridge.

We both exhale together as he enters me. When he's fully inside me, he stops, keeping very still. "I just need a moment," he groans. "You are… this is… Wow." He looks down at my cleavage – which isn't all that impressive really, but this dress makes the best of what I do have. He licks his lips. With the hand that's behind my back, he pulls down the zipper a few inches, just enough for him to push the top part of the dress down to bare my breasts.

"Did you do that in your fantasy?"

"Yes." His tongue flickers over my nipple.

"What else did you do?"

"I did this," he says, and starts fucking me at a punishing speed. The fridge makes a thumping sound against the wall, I only hear it as if distantly, and I'm glad the children are heavy sleepers.

He tilts my hips slightly, making sure he hits the spot inside me just right. "Harder," I pant, and he grins and complies. My nails dig into his back, and I moan deep in my throat as I capture his mouth with mine. This isn't going to last long. I feel his cock twitching inside me as my climax brings on his, groaning my name in my ear.

Afterward, we are both panting. He keeps me up, our foreheads touching, but I can feel his body trembling, and he sinks down on the floor with me in his lap. "That was over way too fast," he laughs breathlessly. "Sorry about that. You're just so hot in that dress."

I laugh, too. "We'll take our time next time, alright?"

He grins and nods. "Deal. There will definitely have to be a next time." He shifts under me and groans. "I'm beat. How far do you think we can make it? Couch? Upstairs?"

"Let's go upstairs," I murmur against his neck. "If the children wake up…"

To my surprise, he sweeps me up, his strong baker's arms carrying me upstairs as if I'm almost weightless. When he puts me down, I quickly take off the dress and we both slip under the covers, naked.

"That was the best birthday present I've ever gotten. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He's lying with his head on my shoulder. My body feels heavy, sated, and warm. I yawn. "Sometimes I wonder if this would've happened anyway."

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"This. Us." I can feel his body suddenly becomes tense, and I try to explain. "It sounds ridiculous, I know. I was married, and we had never even talked before the day you hired me. And even if we had met, for real, I would never have cheated on my husband."

He starts playing with the pearl. "I know."

"But still, sometimes it feels like… This would've happened anyway. Even though I know it doesn't make any sense."

"You're right. It doesn't." His voice is sleepy.

"I love you, Peeta."

The words just slip out. It's not scary. It's not too soon. There's no guilt.

It just is.

"I love you, too."

We fall asleep, the air in the bedroom cold from the open window.