Hi Guys! Man, I have enjoyed working on this story again!

However, the fact that my new chapter got hundreds of reads, but not a single review, really made me sad. Please, please, please it only takes a minute to write a review, and they make me so happy and motivate me to keep writing.

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games will never be mine...:(

On with the story!

Chapter 17-The Stories

The next morning, Peeta awoke with itchy eyes and stiff, tear stained cheeks. Groaning, he dragged himself to the bathroom to wash his face, the warm water soothing him and giving him the courage to ask a question of his own. Today, he was going to ask Cato if he could visit his friends. Though it made him feel frustrated and ashamed that he had to ask permission from the brutish blonde to go back home, he knew that if he left without telling anyone the careers would think he had run away. It was hard to feel at home in District 2 knowing that if he made Cato angry, Libete could pay the price. But Peeta didn't think it was unreasonable to ask to go home; he wasn't asking to leave for long, heck he even didn't mind if Cato wanted to come with him to District 12. Peeta had promised to stay in District 2 and marry Cato, and he would keep that promise to protect his friends and family.

As he was walking downstairs, Peeta could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest, creating a rhythmic pounding in his ears. He knew that there was a fifty percent chance that Cato would be downstairs eating, the other option being that he was out for a run. More than once Peeta had been making breakfast when a shirtless Cato, covered in sweat, returned through the backdoor. On those mornings Peeta would greet Cato politely but refuse to look at his chiseled, muscular body, afraid that his bright red face would give him away.

But this particular morning, Cato was nowhere in sight. Despite his eagerness for an answer, the baker was relieved...until he saw what was sitting on the kitchen table. Laid out on the table was an array of cupcakes, vanilla cupcakes, which he had told Cato were his favourite. But it wasn't the flavour of the cupcakes that caught the young blonde's attention, it was the icing on top. On top of each cupcake, in writing that was definitely not Cato's, was one frosted letter spelling out Do you love me? Below this sentence were two more cupcakes, one reading yes and the other no. The fact that the yes cupcake was larger was most likely not a coincidence, Peeta thought half heartedly. He could only wonder what the workers at whatever bakery Cato had visited had been thinking.

Looking at the cupcakes, Peeta wondered what he should do. The method for answering Cato's question was a little ambiguous, and he didn't want to give the career false hope. If he ate the no cupcake, would that leave yes as his answer when Cato did return? Or would eating the no mean it was his response?

In the end, he didn't need to make a choice because at that moment Cato stepped in from the living room, his arms crossed and frustration evident on his face. Peeta jolted in surprise, evidently Cato had been hiding and waiting for him to choose a cupcake.

"How long do I have to wait?" the career growled angrily.

"Cato, I-" Peeta tried to reply but Cato interrupted.

"How long?" He stalked towards the shorter blonde who nervously backed up to the kitchen counter. A part of him felt bad seeing how alarmed Peeta was, but Cato was frustrated and annoyed. He had done everything he could think of to please the smaller blonde: given him presents, taken care of him, told him he was beautiful repeatedly and all he got in return was rejection.

"I've played your stupid game for months, and I still haven't gotten any closer to you giving me the answer I want! So tell me, Peeta, what's the problem now? I've kept my hands off you for two months, taken care of you, told you things I've never told anyone, and it's still not enough for you!"

"I'm sorry, Cato, but-"

"Oh, you're sorry? I'm sorry too, sorry that I ever let you talk me into waiting!" By now Cato was shouting, standing less than a foot away from Peeta and gradually moving closer as the career became more irritated.

"What am I doing wrong here, Peeta? Do you think so highly of yourself that I'm not good enough for you?"

"No!"

"THEN WHY?" As Cato shouted the last words, something inside Peeta snapped. It was all too familiar: the shouting, their proximity, even the location. In one motion, the baker sank into a crouching position, his hands protecting his head as he cowered.

Releasing that his fiancee was in distress, Cato immediately regretted what he had done and crouched next to him.

"Peeta? What's wrong? Are you alright?" He cautiously reached out one hand to rest on Peeta's shoulder. The little blonde jolted violently at the touch, shrinking away from him. Then Cato realized Peeta was muttering something under his breath.

"Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me…."

"Peeta?" The career repeated with more concern in his voice. He gently caught Peeta's chin and turned it so that he was looking into his gentle blue eyes. "Hey...it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, Peetabread. I promise."

Peeta's eyes became more focused as he realised where he was and who was comforting him.

"Cato? I'm sorry, I don't know what happened…"

"Are you okay, you seemed like you were having a panic attack, or a flashback?"

"Flashback." Peeta said quietly, pulling his knees to his chest as he sat on the kitchen floor. Cato sank down beside and gave the blonde an expectant look.

"A flashback to what?" When Peeta didn't answer, his fiance turned to look at him. "You don't have to tell me, you know I'm no good at talking about my feelings, but I've heard that it can...help?"

Peeta sighed, and ran his hands through his hair, turning Cato's offer over in his mind. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke, his quiet tone filling the silent kitchen.

"My family had a...different dynamic when I was growing up than most kids have. My dad owned the bakery, but he was always so busy...he never really had time for us. So me and my brothers spent most of our time with just our mother around…" He stopped for a minute and took a breath.

"I guess...she always knew there was something...different about me. She was hard on all of us, but she always seemed to have it out for me. Every little thing I did wrong, she beat me for it. One day, I saw Katniss sitting near the bakery in the rain. She looked like she was about to faint from starvation, but I couldn't just give her bread, no matter how much I wanted to."

Peeta stopped again to blink away the tears in his eyes. " So I let a couple of loaves of bread burn. I was supposed to feed them to the pigs, but I threw them to Katniss instead when no one was looking. But when my mother found out…" He stopped again, and looked hard at his feet.

Cato, who had been listening intently the entire time, was shaking with anger and rage. "That-she-why didn't anyone stop her?"

"My dad never knew." Peeta said quietly. "At least, he never let on that he did."

"What about your brothers, they were bigger than you, they should have protected you!"

"Cato, they were scared of her too. And Rye's only a year older than me, he didn't have much of an advantage."

The two blondes sat in silence for a few minutes before Cato moved closer to Peeta and slowly put his arm around him.

"Is this okay?" The smaller blonde nodded. Cato took a breath. "You know, I didn't have a great life growing up either. I mean, nowhere near as bad as you, but I was pretty much ignored by my parents for most of my life."

He turned his head to look down at Peeta. "They focused most of their attention on my older brother Atticus."

Peet frowned. "Didn't I see some boxes with his name on them in the attic?" His fiance nodded.

"Yeah, those were his. He volunteered for the 70th Hunger Games, he was the leader of the Career pack, killed at least six tributes, and the Capital loved him." He laughed bitterly. "I was sure he was going to win... and so was he. Too sure. He made it to the top four, and then he was killed by the District 7 boy with an ax to the back of the head."

Cato shook his head. "I was thirteen, and I had looked up to my brother my whole life. I was so devastated that he was dead that I didn't realize at first that my parents were more distraught by the fact that he lost then the fact that he died. Suddenly everyone was saying that he was a disgrace and a disappointment, especially since the boy who killed him ended up winning. And so after Atticus's death, my parents became obsessed with the idea of me winning the games and 'redeeming the family name.' And honestly, so was I. I wanted to make my parents and District 2 proud, but more than anything I wanted to do it for Atticus."

He looked cautiously at Peeta, who was listening intently, before continuing. "I had this plan, that I was going to kill the District 7 tributes right when the bloodbath started, and show them no mercy since my brother received none. I wanted to avenge him. So yeah, I became a machine, I did nothing but train, plan, work for the day when I could volunteer for the 75th games. And for what? I lost any chance of making my family proud when they announced the Quarter Quell twist."

Peeta looked curiously up at him, feeling a wave of sympathy for the career. "But...Cato, even if you won the games, do you think your parents would have forgiven your brother for dying?"

Cato looked at him in surprise.

"You absolutely would have gotten fame and respect in District 2, but even if you won, even if you ripped the District 7's apart with your bare hands, would that have brought Atticus back?"

"No, but the games were my whole life. I don't know what to do now, I never spent time learning how to do anything but kill."

Lost in thought, Peeta rested his head on Cato's shoulder. "Well, actually you have. You've baked with me a couple of times, and you're not half bad at it. You're great at basically any sport you try, and even if there are no games, you are in such amazing shape that you could probably fight a pack of tributes by yourself."

He smiled softly. "And besides, I wouldn't say that you are alone or ignored anymore. You have a great group of friends that you enjoy spending time with. If you had gone into the games together, you would have missed out on that. Being a tribute is not your only purpose in life, Cato, I promise."

Cato looked down at him in bewilderment. "How is it possible for someone like you to exist?"

"What do you mean?"

"Beauty, talent, generosity, strength, and the ability to show kindness and compassion to everyone around you?" He pulled Peeta fully into his arms and held him gently. "You're just the whole package, aren't you?"

Peeta turned red. "Cato, I don't know if-"

The career plowed on, ignoring his protests. "I don't care if your mother, or anyone else in your life has told you otherwise, I'm telling you that you're perfect." He gently brushed the hair out of Peeta's eyes, looking deep into their soft, blue depths. "You're perfect."

The baker looked shyly down at his hands, nervously aware of the hungry way Cato was looking at him. "Thank you, but I don't know if I'm perfect…"

"I do. And I promise that no one will ever hurt you again, not as long as I'm here. Peeta...do you love me?"

He should have known it was coming. But how was he supposed to answer? Listening to him talk about his mother and comforting him had been sweet, and the poor man had been lonely for most of his life. What was he supposed to say after hearing about Cato's life? A quick glance sideways at Cato showed that the hopeful light in Cato's eyes was back. His heart compelled him to say yes, while his conscience screamed at him to say no. In the end, his conscience won out and he solemnly shook his head.

Cato's face fell slightly and he clenched his massive fists in frustration. But as he looked down at the small blonde in his arms, he realized that Peeta didn't look any happier than he felt. Suddenly, an idea dawned on him to lift both of their spirits.

"Peeta?" he asked.

"Yeah..?" the younger blonde asked warily.

"How would you feel if we went out for dinner tonight?"

"Out? You mean outside the neighbourhood, or outside the district?"

Cato smiled. "Outside the neighbourhood. Probably not any place public, but I thought a change would be nice."

To his surprise, Peeta brightened considerably. "That sounds great! When?"

Cato thought for a moment. "We should probably leave before it gets dark. So around 6?"

After his fiancee gave him a confirming nod, the career hurried to change out of his running clothes. He needed to talk to Finch and Clove,and get their help with a few things.

Tonight needed to be perfect.

Thanks for reading, and once again PLEASE REVIEW if you want to know what happens next. The next chapter's going to be big...