Haymitch, Peeta, and I are left standing in Effie's living room. Haymitch has a slightly bemused expression on his face over everything that just happened.
"Well," Peeta says. "I'm gonna go figure out what I'm cooking and head down to the market." The significance of what Peeta has just said is not lost on me. He's going into town. I turn toward him and put my hand on his arm.
"Hey," I say to him. "I can do the shopping for you, if you want. Just let me know what you need. Or, if you want me to go with you that's fine too." He smiles at me and shakes his head.
"It's ok, Katniss. I'm gonna do this. I need to do this. See you at six?"
"See you at six," I say, smiling at him. Amongst his other amazing qualities - kindness, charisma, empathy, understanding, humor - it can be easy to forget how strong Peeta is. He doesn't feel the need to show it off like so many boys his age do, and it isn't aggressive or hot headed like Gale's strength was. He's just able to do so much. It's kind of incredible.
Haymitch heads out the door after Peeta and I follow him. I keep walking with him on the way back to his house.
"You lost, sweetheart?" he asks.
"Nope, just bored," I say. It's the truth. I don't really want to go into the woods today because then I'll have to shower before dinner in order to be clean enough for Effie's standards, and since Peeta's busy I won't work on the book. I feel like that's something we do together. Half of the cathartic, commemorative aspect comes from sharing the stories with others. Doing it alone just isn't the same.
"What, you can't handle five minutes without the boy?" he asks teasingly.
"What, you get all clean and coiffed for Effie at the drop of a hat?" I counter, raising an eyebrow. Haymitch just looks at me for a second. I think he looks almost impressed.
"Touché," he replies, and opens the door to let me into his house. It smells its usual strain of awful, and there's so many dishes and articles of clothing scattered around that almost no surfaces are open. For the first time ever, he looks slightly embarrassed by it.
"Bored enough to help me clean?" he asks. I roll my eyes but start piling up some dishes and taking them to the sink. We clean for about an hour without talking much. Haymitch and I are both quiet people, so without Peeta to mediate conversation we are perfectly fine to just be together in silence for quite some time. Between the two of us, we get most of the dishes and clothes under control, though the surfaces are all still covered in grime and the smell hasn't abated.
"So," I say eventually, wiping my brow and turning to him."Do you have any...plans...now that Effie is in town?" My words are innocent but he sees the meaning behind them. Usually reading people's feelings is not my strong suit, that's much more in Peeta's domain, but Haymitch and I are too similar for our own good. We can read each other, communicating without words, no matter if the other wants it or not.
"Nothing's going on, sweetheart!" he says with some exasperation. "And even if there was, it would be none of your business." I scoff at that.
"Oh yeah, like you'd stay out of it if the situation was reversed?" I challenge. He laughs at me.
"If?" He says, scoffing. "Sweetheart, you and the boy aren't fooling anyone. I've kept my mouth shut for your benefits, but if you think I don't know you two share a bed practically every night you're fooling yourself."
"That's nothing," I say. I'm not that flustered because if that's really all he thinks there is, he's got nothing. We were doing that when things were purely platonic. "Peeta and I have always done that, since the Victory Tour. Helps with nightmares."
"Yeah frankly, sweetheart, I was being delicate. I'm fully aware that's not it. The way you two look at each other, tease each other, touch each other in ways you think are oh so innocent - you are nowhere near as subtle as you think you are." He's still joking around and his tone is light, but it makes me uncomfortable. I have always been a private person in most respects, but especially given how immensely and exhaustingly public my past relationships with Peeta - real or otherwise - had to be, I want to keep whatever is going on now as close and private as possible. I scold myself internally for even caring; we kissed. Once. That doesn't mean anything is really happening. None of it should matter to me. Why does this matter to me?
"Shut up," is all I manage to get out between all these thoughts, and unfortunately I think that only proves his point. I head out soon after and spend a couple hours tidying up around the house, flipping through tv channels, and reviewing my old family plant book and matching the new spring growth in the District with what I see on the pages. A couple minutes before six, I head over to Peeta's. I know Effie will border on unbearable if I'm late. I let myself in and see I'm the first to arrive.
"I beat Effie? That's a first," I say, and Peeta laughs. Whatever he's cooking smells amazing.
"What are you making?" I ask.
"Apparently Rooba had gotten a great beef shipment in from 10, so I picked up some steaks. I'm grilling them up, and then there's some green beans with garlic and onions and some mashed potatoes. And bread, of course. I'm baking a loaf of sourdough right now."
"That sounds incredible, Peeta," I say. He smiles at me. He opens his mouth to say something, but just then Effie comes in.
"Hello, hello children! Glad to see you both," she says. She's brought a few bottles of wine that look fancy, they must be from the Capitol. She sets them on the table then walks over to me and gives me a disapproving look. "Katniss, dear, it really would have been proper for you to change into a new outfit for the evening, you know." I roll my eyes at her.
"Why are you only mad at me? Peeta didn't change either!" I reply, gesturing my hand at him.
"Well he's been cooking for us, dear!" she says, as if all of these rules of decorum are entirely obvious. Luckily, I'm saved from any further admonishment by Haymitch walking in. He's a whole four minutes late, and she goes to berate him. I used to go crazy with all of Effie's nagging, but at this point I find it kind of funny and endearing. As over the top as it is, it comes from a place of love. I can tell Peeta is thinking the same thing, because he's looking at them and laughing with an expression of genuine fondness on his face. I turn to Peeta and pester him to let me help him set the table, and he finally concedes. Soon, we're all seated around Peeta's table, eager to start eating.
"Well, this just looks lovely, Peeta!" Effie exclaims, setting her napkin in her lap.
"Thank you, Effie," he says, smiling at her. "What has life been like in the Capitol these past few months? I haven't really been following it closely."
This gets her going, rattling on about the rebuilding efforts, the new government structures, her job, important people, and so much more. My interest level varies depending on what she's talking about, but I do pay attention when she outlines the way Paylor has set up the new government. It seems...good. I don't really have any knowledge on how a government should function; the Capitol made it a point not to teach anything like that in school, and they certainly didn't lead by example. But the government that Effie describes at least seems like a good idea.
She explains that the President will be elected once every five years, and every citizen the age of 19 and older can vote. The age that once meant you had escaped the reaping now means you have the freedom to have a say in your government. There's also a Senate, in which each of the 13 Districts and the Capitol elects three representatives. The Senators split their time between their district and the Capitol, and help represent their District's interests and needs in the formation of Capital policies and laws. They serve in an advisory capacity to Paylor as well, so the president will always hear the needs of all of the Districts, no matter which one they come from. Each district will also elect a Mayor, who will handle intra-District policies and communicate with the Senators to advocate for anything they need from the Capitol. There are also many bureaus that have been set up to regulate certain specific aspects of society, such as the Bureau for Drug Administration that Effie mentioned, the Communications and Entertainment Council (which I hear Plutarch is in charge of), the Rebuilding Oversight Committee, and so many more that I can't keep track of.
All I really care about is that the government set up prevents someone like Snow from gaining complete power again. Or someone like Coin, for that matter. It doesn't seem like that could happen again. It actually seems like every District has an equal voice. That's something completely and entirely new.
Once we exhaust the subject of our new government, the conversation becomes more lighthearted. The combination of the inspiring conversation, great food, and influence of the wine sets us all in a good mood.
No one drinks anywhere near enough to keep up with Haymitch, who has finished an entire bottle by himself and started on the next, while the rest of us have maybe had two or three glasses. Neither Peeta nor I like the idea of losing control - I think that's especially true for him after his hijacking - but right now I'm in a nice place where I just feel a little warm and sleepy, and laugh a little more freely, but I still have my wits about me. It feels nice. From what I can tell, it seems like Peeta is in a pretty similar place. Effie is maybe a tad further gone than we are, I think, but I can't read her quite as well as I can read the men in the room, so I can't be sure. We tease each other, we make jokes, we laugh about memories of Effie on the Victory Tour, bristling with her need for punctuality and decorum. The stakes were too high that whole tour for me to have found any comedy in it at the time, but the combination of distance and drink make it easier to enjoy.
We finish our meal and move to the living room. Yet again, Haymitch and Effie take the armchairs. He stumbles his way there, tripping over the coffee table in the process, which makes all of the rest of us laugh. Peeta sits down on the couch and I plop down next to him.
"How are you doing?" he asks me.
"I'm so fine," I say. He laughs at me and ruffles my hair.
"Oh yeah, subtle," Haymitch calls at us, hiccupping in the middle of the last word.
"Rude!" I shout back at him. Effie giggles.
"Oh, she keeps up with you, Haymitch! You better be careful," she mentions. He rolls her eyes at her.
"Oh I think it's you who better be careful, princess. You're the one who's new around here!" he responds. The teasing between the two of them continues back and forth. Peeta and I just smirk at each other, watching our former mentor and escort going on like this. The sleepy feeling from the wine grows on me as the night goes on, and I let my head drop onto Peeta's shoulder.
As simple and innocuous an action as this is, it is one I would probably never do in front of anyone. The minimal impact of the wine on lowering my inhibitions was enough to help me stop caring, though. Additionally, this whole night has sort of made clear to me how much that Peeta, Haymitch, Effie, and I are a family. We were a unit in the Games, and it's still true now. A deeply weird family, maybe, but a family nonetheless. So things with them are different from things with the public or with other people. It can feel at least relatively normal.
"Haymitch, your ward is clearly exhausted!" Effie says, gesturing at me and referencing his guardian status. "I think it is time we leave her to rest."
"Alright, alright. I'm getting going," he says. He struggles a bit to push himself out of the chair, but then the two of them leave Peeta's house. My head is still on his shoulder, and he's running his fingers through my hair.
"Tonight was fun," he says, twirling a lock of my hair around his forefinger.
"Yeah, it was," I say. We stay like this for a few minutes.
"We should probably get to bed," Peeta says. He moves to start getting up, but I put my hand on his leg to stop him. He looks at me questioningly.
"Peeta," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah?" he says.
"Will you kiss me?" I don't know what makes me bold enough to ask. The wine I guess, or being tired, or the light mood still left from the evening. I don't think it's something that I would normally do, but I don't care. I want it.
Whatever my reason is, Peeta happily complies. He turns his head toward me and puts his lips on mine. I feel the fire ignite in me so quickly, it doesn't seem like it should be possible. His lips taste like a mix of the wine we've just had and the cinnamon that he seems to always smell like. It's a new kind of intoxicating, entirely different and more powerful than the wine was earlier.
He tangles his fingers in my hair behind my head, strengthening our connection, and I moan slightly. This seems to ignite something in him, too. He runs his tongue against my lips and I part them to grant him access. I feel like this should feel weird, his tongue in my mouth, but for some reason with him it feels amazing. He runs his tongue across the inside of my bottom lip and I realize just how desperately I do not want him to stop.
I fall back on the couch and pull him so he is hovering over me. I press my lips back against his, as we had parted somewhat with the move. This time, I run my tongue against his lips and enter his mouth. I don't know what I'm doing, but I just want to explore him as much as possible. I run my tongue across the roof of his mouth, then entwine mine with his own. He's responding in kind, moving with me. Suddenly, though, he stops and pulls away.
"What?" I ask, panting slightly.
"We should stop," he says, his breathing heavy too. I feel embarrassed.
"Oh," I get out. "Were you not...did you not like..."
"Oh God, no! It's not that at all," he interrupts me. "I liked that so much Katniss. More than I have any right to, frankly. I just don't want to rush anything, or cross any lines faster than we should, especially since neither of us are completely sober." He's right, I know he's right. But that doesn't stop the fire within me.
"Yeah, ok," I say. We walk up the stairs to his bedroom. I grab a shirt out of one of his drawers and put it on as pajamas. It's Peeta's, and it reaches until about halfway down my thigh, so it's good enough for me. He changes so he's just in his boxers, without a shirt. This is pretty normal for him; he gets hot at night, so he sleeps without a shirt pretty often. Similarly, I like to just sleep in big t-shirts or things like that. If I'm particularly cold I won't, but I just don't really like the feeling of being bogged down in too much fabric. Peeta and I at the most platonic points in our relationship would sleep together, him without a shirt and me without pants, without having any awkwardness or concerns. Now though, counterintuitively, the more I feel for him, or the more we do together, the more tension I feel in our state of undress. It's a good tension though, which I can't quite explain.
We get into bed and curl up so my back is to his chest. He kisses my neck gently, and then my cheek, before whispering goodnight and turning out the light.