Peeta grows steadily stronger every single day. The new drugs seem to be working, because his heartbeat always stays steady and he says he's feeling great. He hasn't flashed since returning home, and while we know that nothing about the medications prevent it from happening again, it's just liberating to know that he's feeling better.
His energy and stamina come back pretty quickly; he's able to walk further and further every day, and it's only about two days until I have to give up on trying to prevent him from cooking or baking, because he has plenty of energy and clearly needs the release. By four or five days after he was released from the hospital, he is basically back to normal, the only difference being I'm still stopping him from carrying anything particularly heavy for fear of popping his stitches.
One morning after about a week at home, I wake up to find the bed next to me empty of Peeta's presence. We moved back upstairs after three or four days. I yawn and stretch before padding sleepily downstairs. As my senses wake up, I realize that I'm smelling something amazing. I see Peeta in front of the oven, pulling out a tray of my favorite cheese buns.
"Mmm," I say, which makes Peeta turn around and smile at me.
"I thought you'd like these," he says, setting the tray down on the counter and walking over to wrap his arms around me.
"You were absolutely right," I say. He laughs and kisses me.
"So what prompted this stroke of genius?" I ask as we sit down to eat.
"I just wanted to thank you. You've been doing so much for me, I wanted to make something I knew you'd like." I try to roll my eyes, but my face just shifts into an expression of joy as I put a piece of the cheese bun in my mouth.
"Oh my God these are so good," I mutter, which makes him laugh. I chew my bite quickly so I can keep talking. "But Peeta, you don't need to thank me. This is what we do. We take care of each other."
"I know," he says with a little smile. "You're right, this is what we do. I'm going to take care of you too whether you want it or not." I stick my tongue out at him jokingly, which only makes him laugh more.
We eat our cheese buns and tease each other. The mood in our house is just exceptionally good today. It doesn't even occur to me until a couple moments after I first think of it that I've started referring to it as our house, but that is what it is. This is where Peeta belongs. I don't want to be alone and I don't want him to be alone. We belong here together. That's another thing I have to tell him.
Haymitch comes over around noon. He's been spending most of the day with us each day to help take care of Peeta since we've been back. Today, though, he comes in and immediately swipes two cheese buns and throws himself down into his usual armchair.
"What's up with you?" I ask. I can smell the liquor on him, he is not sober.
"People are fucking stupid," he mutters. "Fucking stupid! Do you have any idea why a grown ass woman would get into a fucking tizzy over someone else not wanting their fucking furniture advice?" He's looking at me, as if me being a woman somehow gives me great insight into this problem.
"I...have no idea," I say, shrugging my shoulders.
"Yeah, because no one with any goddamn sense would have any idea," Haymitch says, shaking his head and continuing to mutter to himself. I make eye contact with Peeta. Haymitch isn't explicitly saying it, but there is simply no way that he could be talking about anyone other than Effie. We both know there's been some vague sort of relationship between the two of them since her visit, maybe even before. We don't know much about what exactly has been happening because Haymitch would never want to talk about it, but apparently whatever relationship they do have has faced something of a disruption.
"Is there anything you'd like us to do, Haymitch?" Peeta asks. Haymitch snorts at him.
"No, kid," Haymitch says. "Just let me drink and go about your day."
At this point, Peeta and I are very well trained in the practice of letting Haymitch drink enough to feel satisfied, but stopping him before he gets out of hand or passes out. Our job is made easier since he isn't at his house; I'm not sure exactly how much he's already drunk, but he only has two bottles with him, and I'd imagine once he finishes the first one it won't be hard for Peeta or I to sneak away the second. I think to someone who didn't know Haymitch, it would seem irresponsible for us to not cut him off entirely, but it just would not work for him. His sobriety is not something we can force, we've tried time and time again. Just keeping him conscious on his worst days is a victory.
Once he gets settled, Haymitch's mood seems to lift a little. He's moved beyond his sense of anger, and is more just laughing about the utter ridiculousness of the situation.
"I mean, can you imagine getting worked up over something so stupid?!" he asks us rhetorically, but his voice isn't angry. He's laughing pretty hard, actually, which is making Peeta and I laugh too. This has always been a part of the bond between the three of us: a drunk Haymitch jokingly berating an incredibly high-strung Effie. This is comfortable, and this is normal.
"Ah, I guess if this is my biggest problem now, we've come a long fucking way," he says. "I mean, a year ago we couldn't have worried about stupid shit like this is we wanted to."
"Don't feel too bad about that, Haymitch, we'd never have wanted to," I joke, which makes him snort with laughter.
The rest of the day passes in a haze of gaiety. We talk and laugh. We play cards again; Haymitch has been trying to teach us a gambling game for the past couple of days. I think he mostly likes it because Peeta and I are pretty horrible at it so he always wins, but it's been fun. Haymitch is good at bluffing, even through his drunken state. Peeta's alright at bluffing with his words, as he's always been skilled at putting on a show, but his physical tells are obvious to me; he bounces his false leg and twiddles his thumbs when he's nervous about a bluff. I keep my face and movements controlled, but apparently it's entirely obvious in my speech when I'm hiding something. I don't really notice it, but Haymitch and Peeta both say that my pattern of speech completely changes. They laugh at me a lot for it, which tends to lead to me sticking my tongue out or flipping them off, but it's all in good fun. Really, the day feels supremely normal in such a wonderfully refreshing way. We're able to laugh and focus on the simple aspects of life in a way that feels both novel and normal at the same time. I like it. I'd like to keep spending days like this throughout my life.
After dinner, the three of us are sitting comfortably in the living room engaging in one of our favorite group activities: making fun of Plutarch's singing show. Haymitch's drunkenness is advantageous for this activity; he makes truly excellent insulting comments, and his uproarious nature gets Peeta and I laughing too. It's a really nice night.
"That girl kind of reminds me of Johanna," says Peeta, pointing to one of the contestants on the screen. I look at him questioningly. This highly decorated, frilly looking woman looks absolutely nothing like Johanna.
"How?" I ask with a laugh.
"Look at her eyes. She definitely wants to kill everyone else on that stage." I focus in and realize he's right; she's got a smile plastered on her lips, but her eyes reflect deep fury and hatred towards her fellow contestants. I laugh out loud.
"Oh my God you're so right," I say, and he grins. "You'll have to tell her, she'll absolutely love that comparison." My voice drips with sarcasm as I linger on the word "love". He laughs back at me.
"Oh, now that would just be inciting violence," he says jokingly, and I laugh again. He pulls me on top of him so I'm sitting facing him on his lap, my legs straddling his hips. I bring my lips to his and I feel him smiling into the kiss.
"You make me happy," he mutters against my lips.
"Right back at ya," I respond, giggling a little bit. Haymitch makes a repulsed sound, which makes me whip my head towards him. In my moment with Peeta, I honestly kind of forgot he was here.
"I am gonna leave," Haymitch says, standing up with a little stumble.
"You don't have to Haymitch, we'll behave," I say. My tone is a little teasing, but I move off Peeta's lap.
"Nope," he says. "I see where the night's headed and I have no interest in being here anymore." I have no idea what he means by that, and by the look on his face neither does Peeta. Haymitch notices our confusion and laughs at us.
"Ah, you kids get me every time," he says, laughing way harder than the situation seems to demand. "Youth," he murmurs somewhat wistfully. He pats Peeta on the shoulder in a weird way, and then heads out the door. I turn to look at Peeta confusedly.
"What the fuck was that?" I ask, laughing through my confusion.
"I have absolutely no idea," he says in a similar tone. We both just burst out laughing. For someone who I usually can read so well, Haymitch always has his nonsensical moments.
"Well, since he's gone..." I say with a little bit of a coy smile as I slide myself back onto Peeta's lap. He returns my look with a grin before placing his lips on mine.
When we break apart, I look into his eyes and see the blue that has brought me peace when nothing else in the world was known. I feel his hands, which have taken care of me when no one else did. I appreciate the softness of his lips, which have comforted me even when I've been so far gone. I look at him, and I know I need to tell him everything he is to me.
"Peeta," I say quietly, still sitting facing him on his lap.
"Yeah?"
"I...I want you to know how much you mean to me."
"I know that Katniss," he says, but I shake my head.
"No, I mean, there's more that I have to tell you. More things that I feel. I...I..." I'm stumbling over my words and I hate myself for it. It makes this seem disingenuous, as if I'm doing something performative, which couldn't be further from the truth. Peeta seems to pick up on the sense of uncertainty in my struggles to find words.
"Katniss it's ok," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to do anything or say anything, just because I've said things, or because I got hurt. I only want you to say what you feel, or what you're comfortable with."
"I do feel it!" I say, frustrated with myself but trying to make him understand even through my utter emotional incompetence. "I feel everything for you. I...I l-"
I'm not sure if I would have been able to finish the sentence or not, but I don't find out because Peeta's lips slam onto mine. There is fire in the kiss: frenzy, desire, passion, longing. I return it all with equal vigor. I run my tongue across his lips until he allows me entry, and then graze his tongue with my own. He lets out a moan from deep within his throat that makes me smile against his lips. He brings his mouth to my neck and I gasp as he kisses and sucks his way to my collar bone. I feel the fire building deep within me again, that I've felt with him so many times before. Each movement of his lips and tongue is like kindling, only building up the flames further and further. I do not want to stop.
"Oh," I gasp again as he moves and nips at my earlobe. I run my hands up his back under his shirt, eliciting a little sound from him.
"Upstairs?" Peeta mutters into me, and I nod. I move off of him and stand up, although the moment he's on his feet my lips are back on his. We stumble together towards the stairs, our mouths never parting for more than a few seconds at a time. When we reach the landing at the top of the stairs, I can't take it any longer and I pull Peeta's shirt over his head and just let it fall to the floor. He smirks at me and does the same with my own shirt before pushing open the door to my room.
We fall onto my bed and Peeta crawls on top of me. I tilt my head and sit up slightly so I can kiss his neck in the way he has been doing mine. While I suck at a spot near his pressure point, he takes the access granted by my position to unhook my bra.
"Is this ok?" he mutters, and I make a noise of affirmation into his neck. He removes the pink bra so there is no more fabric separating our chests. He throws it to the ground before leaning forward and flattening my body onto the bed. He pushes himself flesh on top of me, and I moan happily at the contact of his skin on my breasts, and at the sound he readjusts to take one of my breasts into his mouth. I moan even louder at this, and respond in just the same way when he moves to my other breast. When his mouth returns to mine, I hum a sound of pleasure into his lips. I grip my hands onto his ass and push him into me. I can feel his hardness against my hip.
"Fuck, Katniss," he murmurs. I giggle. "Oh you don't get to be so coy," he says, his eyes a deep and dark shade of blue with lust. He moves his hands to my waistband and hovers them over the buttons of my jeans. He looks up at me and I nod vigorously, so he undoes my pants and slides them down my legs. He rubs me through the fabric of my panties for a minute, until the fabric is soaked through and I'm writhing under him with want. He then removes them, and slides a finger through my folds before slipping it inside of me.
"Oh," I gasp. "Fuck, don't stop." He presses his lips into mine while continuing to pump his finger in and out of me. He slides a second finger in, and I feel that I'm already close. He curls his fingers inside of me and I moan his name.
"Peeta, oh!" I squeal in an entirely uncharacteristic way as he hits a spot deep inside of me that almost sends me over the edge. He keeps up the motion, and when he brings his mouth back down to my breast, the combination of sensations is enough for me to lose it. I moan his name as my walls tighten around him and my body is flooded with pleasure. He pulls his fingers out of me and plants a kiss on my lips. I realize that I want him back. I don't want him to stop, I want to be as close to him as possible.
I've been somewhat scared, up until now, at the prospect of going any further with him. I know it can hurt the first time, I heard girls whispering about it at school. Even though I know I'm protected by my birth control pill, I've also been nervous about the idea of still somehow getting pregnant. In this moment, though, I realize that I feel absolutely not one ounce of fear. All I feel is love, and the desire to be as close Peeta as I possibly can. I want to show him I love him. I want to know every part of him and have him know every part of me. I want this.
"Peeta," I murmur against his lips. He moves his head away from mine slightly so he can look into my eyes.
"Yeah?"
"I'm ready," I whisper. I don't think he's processed what I'm referring to, because he looks a little confused.
"Ready...?" he asks, trailing off as understanding sparks in his eyes. I nod.
"I want all of you, I want to know you in every possible way. I'm ready." He looks at me with an expression of deep excitement and love, although he's clearly trying to modulate his joy as to not pressure me in any way.
"Are...are you sure?" he asks. "I don't want to rush you or make you feel like you have to do anything for my benefit, and I don't want to hurt you either. I know it can hurt for girls, and I don't want you to be in pain. I love you, no matter what you want to do..." he's rambling and talking way too fast, and I shut him up by kissing his lips and moving my hands to the waistband of his pants.
"I want you," I say as I slide his pants down his legs. "Do you want me too?" I ask.
"Yes," Peeta says, sounding far more certain than he did in his nervous rambling just a minute ago. "More than anything in the entire world."
"Good," I whisper, planting a kiss on his lips before freeing him of his boxers. I part my legs so he can position himself between them, and I feel his length pressed up against my inner thigh. I don't know if I should be scared, but I'm not. No part of me is scared. Every part of me wants every part of him. I'm ready. He kisses me lovingly and deeply before positioning himself right up against me. I feel the tip of him just barely start to push through my folds.
"Tell me at any time if you want me to stop, ok?" he says, and I nod. He kisses me one more time before pushing into me, I think a little faster than he intended. I gasp and groan a little bit. It hurts, and he can see it on my face.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, kissing my neck and my jaw and my mouth. "Do you want me to pull out?" I shake my head.
"No," I say, and try to focus on steadying my breath. "No, just...just give me a minute." He nods and keeps himself still, only moving to trail kisses along my jawline. I try to assess the way I'm feeling. It's an unusual sort of pain, different from all of the myriad things I've felt before. It's sort of a dull ache, a feeling of expansion and pressure that I'm not familiar with. It doesn't entirely dissipate, but I think it eases a little bit with each passing minute that he's inside me, as my body adjusts to this new sense of being filled. When I get to a point that I'm ok with, I start rocking my hips ever so slightly.
"Ok," I say to him. "Move." Peeta starts moving his hips with mine, thrusting slowly in and out of me. At first his rhythm is sloppy, but he finds a more stable pattern as he adjusts. The look in his eyes is truly incredible; his expression is better than anything I have ever seen before. It is a look of utter ecstasy, pleasure, love, elation, and joy. It is everything I want to see and it helps me ease the pain away.
"Oh my God, Katniss," he murmurs. "You feel so good." He plants his mouth on mine and I return the kiss wholeheartedly. He keeps his movements relatively slow, and with every thrust the pain decreases and I start to feel pleasure. More than anything, I feel love, and I feel an incredible sense of luck to be able to be here with him. I never thought this was possible for me. I'm so glad I was wrong.
I make my first sound of pleasure as he continues thrusting inside of me, and I can see the effect it has on him immediately. It charges him up and I can sense his excitement growing. His eyes meet mine.
"Is it...is it ok?" he asks.
"Yes," I breathe, keeping my eyes locked on his. "Keep going." His pace picks up now that he knows I'm not in pain. The more we keep going, the better I feel. I realize just how good it feels to have him inside of me, how well we fit together. I know how ridiculous it sounds, but it's like it was meant to be.
Peeta's movements start to grow more erratic, and I can tell he's close. He's panting, trying to steady his breath and keep himself together.
"Fuck, I'm so close," he breathes into me.
"It's ok," I say, and I mean it. I don't care if I finish or not right now, he already got me there earlier. All I want is to keep feeling him as close to me as possible, and to make him feel good. I want to show him that I love him.
He keeps thrusting, his speed increasing and his pacing becoming more random as he builds and builds. His eyes don't leave my face, and mine don't leave his. I don't think I could ever get tired of looking at the expression of pleasure on his face. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. He groans through a couple more thrusts, until his body tenses and I feel him release. He collapses himself down on top of me, and we lay together, spent and sweaty and happy.
"That was incredible," he murmurs. "You are incredible. I'm sorry I didn't make you -" I cut off his apology by putting my lips on his.
"It was incredible for me too," I say when we part. "It was perfect. You are perfect." He runs a hand through my sweaty hair and studies my face.
"Katniss," he says softly. I can see in his eyes that he knows what I want to say to him. I can see that he's going to help. "You love me. Real or not real?"
"Real," I say. I plant a kiss on his lips before continuing. "Real, real, real. I love you, Peeta." He kisses me again and I feel all of the love between us flow together within the kiss. I love him. I love him.
"I love you, Katniss," he murmurs against my lips.
"I love you too," I repeat. It seems that now that I've started saying it, I can't stop saying it. He smiles at me as he rolls off of my body and onto the bed. I curl myself up into him, my head returning to it's spot on his chest. I'm exhausted, and I can tell he is too, but we are also both so, so happy.
"I love you," I say one more time before drifting off to sleep.