Peeta stays up with me on the couch for hours, just holding me and comforting me and listening when I occasionally share stories. Around two in the morning he helps me up the stairs and the two of us collapse into his bed, exhausted. We hold each other as we fall asleep, still in our clothes from the evening.
When I wake up the next morning Peeta is still asleep next to me, one of his arms slung over my waist. I feel...better. A lot better than I did yesterday. Opening up to him, letting everything out, it helped the pain feel less overwhelming.
I do feel guilty, though, about not appreciating everything he did for me yesterday in the way I should have, and for trying to hide my feelings from him for most of the day. Peeta does so much for me, every single day. I don't know why I still struggle to let him in all the way, even though I know I feel better when I do. I need to do better by him.
He blinks his eyes open, giving me a sleepy little smile.
"Good morning," he says through a yawn.
"Good morning," I whisper back to him. He runs a hand through my hair and I smile at him.
"How are you feeling?" he asks me.
"Better," I say, truthfully. "Thank you for everything last night. The dinner, the cards, comforting me. I'm sorry that I didn't...that I couldn't be as happy as I should have been with all of it."
"Katniss you don't need to apologize. I don't care about the meal or any of that stuff. All I want is to make you feel better in whatever way I can."
"You did," I say quietly, and I place my lips on his. I feel him smile a little into the kiss and I return the smile. He pulls away slightly.
"I like seeing you smile," he mutters, placing a quick kiss on my nose. I giggle a little in a way that is very unlike me before sitting up.
"I gotta get out of these clothes," I say. "I'm gonna go back to my house to change, I think all the clothes I have here are too warm for today. Will you meet me there in a little bit?"
"Yeah, of course," he says. I kiss him quickly one more time and then head out.
It's pretty warm today when I walk between Peeta's house and mine, but it's that nice kind of warm where the temperature is hot but there's still a nice breeze so you don't get too sweaty. Suddenly I'm hit with an idea, the perfect idea, of how to show Peeta that I'm ready to let him in, fully and completely.
When I reach my house I go upstairs and change quickly. I throw on a pair of shorts and an olive green tank top. The waistband of the shorts is tied with a strand of fabric with flowers printed on it, and I feel a pang in my chest as I remember Prim having given me this piece of fabric several years ago. I tell myself though that it's ok to feel the pain. I try to stay grounded.
I rebraid my hair quickly and hear the door open and close downstairs. I head down the stairs quickly and see Peeta seated at my counter. I can't help but notice the way his white t-shirt clings to his muscles nicely.
"Hi," I say.
"Hi," he responds. "You look excited. What's up?"
"I have an idea," I say, sitting down next to him. He looks at me curiously. "It's so nice out today, I was thinking it might be the perfect day for you and I to go to the lake."
His gaze shifts to my eyes, he's trying to read the intent in them. He knows what this means coming from me. He knows that the lake is the place where I feel my father's memory most strongly, that it's a place I like to keep to myself. He knows, or at least he's hoping, that my inviting him means something. He's right. I nod at him, answering the question that hasn't left his mouth.
"That sounds perfect," Peeta says. "Let me get some things together, ok?"
"Sounds good." He gets to work packing us a lunch to take with us. He makes sandwiches with brie and fig jam on a baguette and packs them in a basket. He is perfectly at home moving around my kitchen, which I have no problem with considering that virtually everything that's in here is only here because of him. He fills two bottles with lemonade and adds them to the basket, as well as folding up and including what I guess is technically a tablecloth but will serve perfectly well as a picnic blanket. Finally, he grabs a sketchbook that he left on my sideboard and a couple pencils before he turns to me.
"Ready?" I ask.
"Ready," he confirms. I pull on my hunting boots before slipping my hand in his free one and leading us out the door. We don't talk all that much as we make our way past the fence, we just walk, appreciating the feel of the breeze on our faces, the look of the earth in bloom, and the comfort of our hands joined together.
As we get further into the woods our pace slows down a bit. The terrain is rougher here and between a lack of experience and the slight delay of his prosthetic, Peeta gets tripped up a couple times. He just laughs and makes jokes about it all. I can tell he's in a really good mood.
After about 45 minutes or so of walking, we reach the clearing with the lake and the little broken-down stone cabin. The sun is shining through the leaves of the trees around the clearing and it honestly looks glorious.
"Wow," Peeta says, looking around and taking it all in. "Katniss this is...wow. This is beautiful. I didn't know somewhere like this existed in 12!" He's laughing a little bit, astounding by where we are. Peeta has always been so good at appreciating beauty even where it's limited, and given how it abounds here he's almost overwhelmed.
"Thank you for taking me here," he says.
"Thank you for coming with me," I say, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before taking the basket from his hand and laying out the blanket.
Peeta sits down and I sit between his legs so my back is leaning against his chest. He plays with my hair and we listen to the sounds of the mockingjays. It reminds me a little of the time we spent together on the roof of the Training Center before the Quell.
I wonder if he remembers that day as it was or not. I know the Quell was horribly screwed up for him by the Capitol, because they have all the footage from the Arena, and I was more affectionate towards him in that Games than the first, so they had a lot of material to twist. A thought occurs to me at that.
"Peeta?"
"Mhmm?"
"Do you remember me teaching you to swim in the clock Arena?" I ask. He sighs a little bit.
"Yeah, sort of. It's blurry. I also have a shiny memory of you teaching me and then turning and drowning the Morphling, but I know it isn't real. It's really really silvery and wrong. The real memory's there, it's just a little confused."
"Do you remember how to swim?" I ask.
"To be honest, I'm not sure. I haven't had any opportunity to try it since the Arena, so I don't really know how much my body remembers."
"You wanna try and find out?" I ask, turning my head to him and raising an eyebrow. He mirrors my look and raises one of his own right back.
"Well alright," he says. I stand quickly and reach out a hand to help pull him to his feet.
I quickly start undressing down to my undergarments, pulling off my top and unbuttoning my shorts. I'm so far beyond the innocent girl who didn't want to undress Peeta even when he was dying by the riverbank, or who recoiled at Johanna's stripping down in the elevator. I just don't care anymore. I've been observed so many times at my most exposed by everyone from Capitol stylists and prep teams to medical crews in 13. So much of my skin isn't even my own anymore. I just don't care.
Peeta follows my lead, and soon he's left standing in only his boxers. He sleeps like this a lot, so it doesn't really phase me, but I don't think he's seen me without a shirt on before for longer than the time it takes for me to change from one to another. He's trying to avoid fixating on my chest, not wanting to embarrass me or make me uncomfortable, and the war evident in his eyes is honestly comical. I snicker at him a little.
"Sorry," he says. "You're just...so beautiful." He runs his thumb down along the inside of my bra strap, but stops himself before he gets too far. I roll my eyes and grab his hand.
"Come on," I say, pulling him towards the lake. I walk in first. The water is cold but it feels strangely comfortable for me. I hear Peeta's sharp intake of breath at the temperature and laugh at him.
"Oh you can't blame me, it's cold!" he says, taking slow little steps deeper into the water. I turn around so my back is to him and then jump forward, diving into the body of the lake. I stay underwater just a moment before I come up, now covered head to toe in water.
"It's not that cold," I say, sticking my tongue out at him.
"Alright," he moans, following me in until we're both standing about chest deep in the water.
"Do you think you can take a lap with me?" I ask.
"I can certainly try," he says. I start paddling with ease and see Peeta following me. His strokes are awkward and there's far more splashing than there ought to be, but he keeps himself afloat and can get from one place to another. I don't think I ever taught him much beyond that, to be honest.
"That's good," I say, stopping and turning to him when we reach the spot where we began.
"I'm pretty sure I just exhibited the same skill level as a toddler would in 4," he says, and I laugh.
I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in, kissing him. I feel his hands find their place on my hips under the water. He parts my lips with his tongue and I allow him entry happily. He runs his tongue along the inside of my bottom lip again, which he's learned always gets me, and I sigh into him.
Since I know I'll be lighter in the water, I hop up and wrap my legs around his waist. Between my arms on his shoulders and my legs on his hips, I am entirely supported by him. My chest is right up against his, and the wet material of my bra feels like hardly anything and yet somehow also way too much in between us. I feel the heat growing within me again, that fire. I don't want us to stop.
We do stop, however, because of the stupidest of interruptions I could imagine. My stomach growls loudly. I realize I haven't eaten yet today, and I've been hungry without even noticing it. Peeta laughs but I am thoroughly annoyed at my body for betraying me and breaking up the mood.
"I think that's our queue to go have some lunch," he says. He can tell I'm frustrated, so he lifts me up and turns me around so he can carry me to shore on piggy back. I can't help but giggle as we make our way there. He plops me down on the blanket and gets out the sandwiches and drinks. The sandwich tastes absolutely incredible on my empty stomach. I smile as I lick a little of the jam off my finger, and he laughs at me.
"What?!" I ask, amused.
"Nothing! You just...you still don't know the effect you have."
"Oh, what, I have a strong effect while licking my fingers? I think Effiie would say the only effect I'm having right now is making her annoyed at my lack of manners." He laughs again and I just shake my head. We eat the sandwiches and drink the lemonade, which feels perfectly refreshing while sitting in the warm sun. We don't put our clothes back on yet, and just sit eating in our undergarments, keeping them exposed to the sun and air to let them dry. I lie down and stare up at the blue sky, and Peeta starts sketching.
"What are you drawing?" I ask.
"You'll see," he replies, keeping his focus on the paper. About half an hour later, he lays down next to me on his side, his head propped up on his hand.
"Can I see it now?" I ask. He nods, handing me the sketchbook. I hold it up in front of me.
It's me. It's the whole scene we're in right now. He's captured me looking more relaxed than I've ever seen myself. I'm lying down in just my bra and underwear, with my hands clasped under my head and an expression of genuine serenity on my face. He's managed to perfectly depict the way the breeze moves the leaves and the water of the lake. It's perfect. I know how talented he is, but sometimes I lose track of how much he can do in such a short amount of time.
"You're so good at this," I tell him.
"It helps when you have the model and scenery of your dreams. Then it would just be a shame if you didn't do it right." I roll my eyes at him yet again. I'd like to say that I hate his cheesy romantic jokes, as I think I would if they were attempted by anyone else, but I don't. I like them coming from him.
"I like this," Peeta says. "Everything about today."
"I like it too," I reply.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," I nod. He knows that this means more than just the words I'm saying. I like today, that means I like him. I like being with him, I like letting him in, I like having him with me on my best days and my worst. I like him.
He leans over to me and places his lips on mine. At first his head is hovering over mine and his body is out in the other direction, but he repositions soon enough so that he's directly on top of me, supporting his weight on his elbows on either side of me. Good. I want to be as close to him as possible.
I tangle my hands in his blonde curls and push his head a little so the pressure of his mouth on mine intensifies. He runs his hand up and down my side between my bra and my panties and I moan a little against his lips. He moves his mouth to my jaw line and nips up and down my neck for a few minutes before returning to my mouth. His hands are on either side of my chest right now, but he's been careful not to touch me anywhere he hasn't before. He doesn't want to cross any lines without consent.
"You can," I murmur into him. "If you want to, you can." He understands what I mean. He moves a hand and slowly brushes it over one of my breasts. He moves back and forth slowly before making smaller circles over my hardened nipple, which is not hidden very well by the fabric of my bra. It feels really good and I sigh. Once he can tell I like it, he brings his other hand to my other breast and repeats the motions.
"You're incredible," he says, his eyes dark with want. "Just incredible."
He returns his lips to mine and I feel a fire in his kiss. It matches the one growing within me, which I can feel in my stomach and between my legs. He puts a hand on my thigh and I moan again. I can tell that when I respond, with noises or actions or saying his name, it gets him. He wants to make it happen again. He runs his hand across my leg until he's cupping my inner thigh. I think he must be able to feel the heat radiating from me. His eyes meet mine.
"Can I touch you?" he asks.
"Yes," I respond without any hesitation. Slowly, he runs his hand over the fabric of my panties, which are wet with wanting him. I arch my back a little in response to his touch. I've never felt like this before. I'd explored myself on occasion, but it feels entirely different having Peeta there. Very gently, he slips a finger past the band of my underwear and runs it up and down my folds. The feeling of being wet and warm is overwhelming. He continues moving his finger around, exploring, until he hits a spot that makes me gasp.
"There?" he asks, and I nod. He starts rubbing little circles with his finger and I'm whimpering.
"Oh, Peeta," I say. I don't recognize this sound in my voice. I can see the effect it has on him this time. It's overwhelmingly intoxicating. He moves his finger and very slowly slips it inside of me. I inhale sharply at the feeling. It's unfamiliar but so good. He curls his finger a little and I moan. He takes that as a good sign and slips another finger in, repeating the same curved motion, and starts pumping slowly in and out of me.
"Oh God, Peeta," I moan. He takes his other hand and goes back to rubbing circles on that one spot. I'm gonna lose it, I can feel myself building, building, building. Within a few more minutes, all the muscles in my body tense and a euphoric feeling floods my senses. I moan as the high washes over me, and Peeta's hands stop their movements. He removes his fingers from inside me and crawls up a little so his face is directly above mine.
"Was that good?" he asks. To me, feeling what I'm feeling and hearing the sounds that have been coming out of my mouth, the answer to that question is obvious, but the look on his face is genuine and a little nervous. He wants to make sure I liked it.
"So good," I say, still panting a little. "So so so so good." He smiles in a sort of impish way and I pull his head down so our lips meet again.
"I could get used to this," he murmurs.
"Me too."