Chapter 23: Reaping Kisses Through the Years

When Katniss and Peeta are twelve, my son plucks up the courage to give his crush her first Reaping Kiss.

It is actually Katniss's first kiss, period, I come to find out later, and I get a front-row seat for it.

We are down in the front garden of the Everdeen place, waiting for Prim to come out so Peeta can escort the Everdeen girls down to the Square. About a week ago, Belle took ill with a high fever, and had managed to get a medical waiver from attendance at the Reaping. Except in a special case like this one, Reapings are compulsory attendance for everyone throughout Panem – no exceptions. I had assured my best friend that we would take care of the girls for the day; I have a feeling this illness was brought on in anticipation of the anniversary of Glen's death in a few weeks. When Peeta got wind of our substitution, he jumped at the chance to walk Katniss and Prim to the Reaping.

My goddaughter is now pacing frenetically throughout the weedy garden, the hem of her blue Reaping dress swishing at her ankles. She is tugging at the single braid running down her back, and appears to be one tick away from hyperventilating.

"They pick twelve-year-olds all the time," she is muttering to herself. "Why shouldn't they pick me?"

"Just be confident, dear!" I call from where I am perched on the front porch.

"If they take me, who's going to look after Prim….?"

Next to me, Peeta is watching his secret love work herself into a tizzy with barely concealed agony. At last, he stands up and marches over to her, getting directly in her path so he can grab her by the shoulders.

"Stop," he admonishes. "I hate to see you like this. When you worry."

"And why shouldn't I?" Katniss snaps fiercely, finally starting to come truly unglued. "You could be picked just as likely as I could!" Probably more than likely, I think to myself, but I feel my heart tremble at the thought and quickly banish it.

"You're not going to get picked," Peeta states firmly, as if just saying it will make it so.

"How do you know?" Katniss screeches, getting right in his face. "Tell me, Mr. I'm-the-Son-of-a-Victor, how do you know?!"

At that moment, hands still bracing her shoulders, Peeta yanks Katniss forward and crushes his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

I sit up a little straighter, eyes wide, though I make no moves to stop the hurried embrace. Oh, my Panem… he actually did it. I didn't think he would ever have the nerve, and certainly not at the ripe old age of 12.

Katniss has gone completely rigid against Peeta's strong body, her grey eyes bulging and I think I hear her let out something between a startled whimper and a squeak. Her dainty hands come up to rest against Peeta's developing chest…

… and she shoves him back hard, so that my son nearly stumbles over the Everdeens' collapsing gate and lands in the dirt.

Wiping at her mouth, Katniss appears furious, but seems also in full knowledge of exactly what Peeta has done and what it means.

"A Reaping Kiss? I don't believe in that superstitious crap! And even if I did, a real man would ask a girl before kissing her!" And she throws open the gate and starts stomping up the path, her nose prissily in the air. Prim comes out too late to see her sister apparently leaving without her, and a dazed Peeta has to take her hand and run to catch up. Watching them go, I break off, back for the Village – I need to be up at my mansion to meet the Peacekeepers who always escort me to the Justice Building under military guard.

On the issue of consent, yes, Peeta was clearly in the wrong. I had instilled in him and his brothers the importance of it, just as Mama instilled the lesson in both Kaydilyn and me. It goes both directions.

Still, I can't help but feel crushed for my son, to be so openly rejected…. even if, like his father before him, he was trying to protect someone he loves…

Afterwards, Prim informs me that Katniss spent the rest of that day and a couple days after touching her lips in wonder and murmuring to herself, "He kissed me…. why would he kiss me?" When Prim asks who 'he' is (though I have a feeling she's already figured it out), I have to come clean.


When Katniss and Peeta are thirteen, my son kisses her on Reaping Morning again. She slaps him.

Belle is present for the whole display this time, Katniss barking at her to hurry up and pausing to straighten Primrose's dress.

Speaking of Primrose, it really is her fault that this second kiss happens at all.

"Now, remember: if I don't get picked…."

"…. When you don't get picked…." Peeta corrects his crush.

Katniss pointedly ignores him, tucking in Prim's blouse. "You come and find me with Mother." My goddaughter's hands are shaking and Prim notices.

"Katty?"

"What is it, Prim?"

"Is Peeta going to Reaping Kiss you again?"

Dead silence in the garden. Katniss is gawping at her little sister, open-mouthed. Leaning against the garden gate, Rye is smirking in deep amusement, obviously grateful he decided to tag along this year.

In the interim, Katniss has slowly stood up, still staring at Prim. "How do you know..?"

She is so focused on her sister, she never sees him coming.

Spinning her around, Peeta dips her back a little bit and kisses her right on the mouth. Katniss's eyes pop again and she squirms a little until Peeta lets her go after a moment. She stumbles back, spluttering, stunned.

Peeta presents her with his most winning smile. "Primrose asked. I felt I had to oblige."

Another beat, and then –

SMACK.

Katniss's hand flies out as she slaps Peeta hard across the face, her coal-grey eyes burning. Snatching Prim's hand, the two girls flounce out of the garden, Prim looking immensely confused. "Was it something I said…?"

Belle, meanwhile, is narrowing her eyes protectively at my youngest son. There is nothing I can do or say but wince at my best friend apologetically, as Peeta draws to my side, sheepish and embarrassed. As we exit the garden, Rye is doing his level best not to laugh and failing horribly. I wag a finger in his face.

"Stop it."


When Katniss and Peeta are fourteen, he asks to kiss her this time. She says Yes.

The pair of them are seated on the Everdeen front porch in what I think is already going to be an annual tradition, of us meeting our friends to pick them up and take them to the Square. Katniss is as on edge as she has ever been, and she has more reason to be this year than most – the youngest person to ever win the Hunger Games was Reaped at her age. The fact that Finnick Odair still won, and therefore got to live, despite these horrible odds doesn't seem to dawn on her.

"Three slips…." she whimpers. "Three slips in the bowl…. It's an omen…"

Peeta chuckles as he rubs her shoulder, which he's slung his arm across. Surprisingly, Katniss has made no moves to shrug him off. "I'm pretty sure three is a good lucky number, not bad…"

Through her tears, Katniss smirks at him dryly. "Now you're starting to sound like Primrose."

"Hey, she's only ten, cut her a break. And anyway, I thought you didn't believe in all that 'superstitious crap' – your words."

His quoting of her takes them both back to this time two years ago, right after Peeta first kissed her. Drawing away a little bit, like she's afraid he's going to attack her mouth again, Katniss tugs at her braid nervously. "I don't," she sniffs. Glancing down into her lap, she murmurs, "I still don't know why you did it. Threw away a Reaping Kiss on me."

Peeta appears taken aback by this, and for a second I think he is going to profess his love for her, if for no other reason than to make it clear why he did what he did. But he doesn't. Instead, he tells her, "I've always believed that a Reaping Kiss guarantees neither you nor your partner will be picked. Thanks to you, for the past two years, I've been proven right."

I don't voice Merle's ancient revision of the theory, instead merely content in watching them.

Katniss is blinking owlishly at him, seeming to hang on his every word, despite her disbelief in the tradition. Peeta is staring at her just as intensely, and he takes her hand in his.

"Katniss?"

She shivers, startled by his touch, as though she has come in contact with a live wire. When she replies, her voice actually trembles. "Y-Yes?"

"Can I please give you a Reaping Kiss?"

She leans back, beautiful grey eyes wide, before cocking an eyebrow nearly into her hairline. "May I please give you a Reaping Kiss?" she corrects his grammar, her tone schoolmarmish. After a prolonged silence, she finally, actually whispers:

"Yes, you may."

Peeta looks just as shocked as I am that she actually agrees to it, but then he takes her face in his hands, tilting her head back and up. Katniss eyes him in slightly concealed amusement, her eyes fiercely challenging. Well? Are you going to kiss me or not?, she seems to be silently asking him, as she allows Peeta to bring her face closer. Their lips meet.

To my amazement and encouragement, Katniss actually takes less than a moment to relax into the kiss, reaching up to loop her arms about my son's neck. Her fingers hesitantly sink themselves into Peeta's blond curls and… is it just my imagination, or is she using this grip to pull him closer and deepen the kiss?

After a few moments, my son and goddaughter noisily break apart. Katniss doesn't move out of the embrace right away, letting her fingers twirl themselves through Peeta's blonde strands, her expression one of bemusement, like she's sizing him up. Like she's trying to figure out how she feels about the kiss, whether she liked it or resented it. Finally, she slips out of Peeta's arms and stands up.

"I'd better go find my sister…" And she turns back to the house, calling a little too loudly, "Primrose! We're leaving!"


When Katniss and Peeta are fifteen, they both nearly forget about the Reaping Kiss entirely.

It is actually Katniss who remembers, and it is Katniss who shockingly takes the initiative. We are nearly at the Square before it dawns on my goddaughter. She's been racking her brain all morning, muttering to herself, "I know I'm forgetting something…. What am I forgetting?" She checked and re-checked that she and Prim both have their identification cards, which are critical in helping the Peacekeepers sign each eligible child in. She straightens Prim's blouse, and makes sure her mother is present and accounted for.

To his credit, Peeta doesn't float out a reminder of what still needs to be done. He doesn't ask for a kiss the way he did last year, lest it seem like he is expecting one or is entitled to one. (It isn't until later that he will tell me he had forgotten about the Reaping Kiss too). If Primrose knows something is missing, she doesn't let on, as she did two years ago and made things so awkward.

We are literally in line, about ten people back from the front. I had requested the Peacekeepers to meet me at the Everdeen place and escort me from there, so I could remain with the kids, ignoring how Cray didn't seem happy about it. I am just about to break off and head for the stage in front of the Justice Building when Katniss remembers.

Right before Peeta steps forward to let the Peacekeeper take his pinprick of blood.

"Wait! I almost forgot!" she cries. Turning Peeta around and pulling him close, she kisses him thoroughly, passionately on the lips. Her eyes even flutter closed, a little. In absolute shock, it takes a healthy second or two before Peeta recovers, his hands gliding about Katniss's slim waist as he kisses her back.

"Ahem." The Peacekeeper officer has to clear her throat to get both of the kids' attention, and Katniss and Peeta snap apart, their arms still around each other. Katniss is panting, red-faced and flushing, her breasts heaving under the bodice of her blue dress.

"For luck," she breathes to Peeta, and then releases him so he can have his blood drawn. At her side, Primrose is practically dancing with matchmaking glee. I myself am smirking proudly and sentimentally as the Peacekeepers lead me away to the stage….


When Katniss and Peeta are sixteen, Katniss tells Peeta to kiss her.

I have the girls meet us up in the Victors' Village this time, for a change of pace. Katniss may claim she is not superstitious (this, despite the fact that she has engaged in a superstition with my youngest son for the past four years) but I am.

But if I am deeply worried for little Primrose, in her first year of eligibility, Katniss is downright terrified.

She is white as a ghost upon coming up over the crest of the hill, making right for Peeta and lacing her trembling hands through his. "Please tell me she's going to be all right."

Peeta smiles at her easy. "She's going to be all right," his voice is crooning and smooth as velvet, sounding every bit like a lover.

Even as she rolls her eyes prissily at him, my goddaughter has to tamp down a sob. "How do you know?" she demands.

Peeta shrugs, unfazed. "It's called math. Look, Prim has only one slip in the bowl, right? She's never had to take out tesserae. That one little slip is in amidst thousands of others. The chances of Trinket pulling her are infinitesimal. It's highly unlikely she'd even pick either you or me – we each only have our names in the bowl five times."

Actually, I have the most foreboding suspicion that Peeta's name is in there even more times than he might ever imagine, but I don't voice this paranoia aloud. Still, I have to be proud of him for reassuring her – I knew there was a reason Danny and I placed him in charge of the account books.

"Also," Peeta is comforting Katniss, "Think of it this way: when was the last time District 12 picked a twelve-year-old from either gender at the Reaping?"

I know all too well exactly when it was – Woody Hanks, seventeen years ago, just before either of these two young people standing before me were even conceived.

"And Prim could pass easily for a Merchant, and Merchant kids getting picked is even rarer!" Peeta is excitedly telling Katniss. "Mother is one of the few Merchant kids ever Reaped for the Games, and I could count how many of those there has been total on both hands!"

Katniss smiles weakly. "You really think she won't be picked?"

"I really don't," Peeta smiles confidently. "Why, if she is, I'll eat my dad's hat!"

Katniss draws a hand to her lips to stifle a giggle. "I don't think Capitol leather is as edible as bread…."

"No, indeed," Peeta grins. His eyes find Primrose, who is clasping her big sister's hand and looking thoroughly terrified. All the color has drained from her face. My son grins at her easily.

"Gotten yourself a Reaping Kiss yet, Prim?"

My littlest surrogate niece sniffles. "No. I asked Rory Hawthorne for one yesterday, but he says it's too icky!"

Peeta chuckles, squatting down to her level. Before the little girl can blink, he leans in and ghosts his lips chastely across hers. Prim reels back, blinking, her eyes shining.

"There." Peeta murmurs. "You're safe, Prim – I'm sure of it."

Katniss's own eyes are shining as Peeta rises back to his feet. Her grey eyes are translucent with tears, as she stares at my son in debilitating gratitude.

"Kiss me," she breathes out quite suddenly.

Turning to her, it is now Peeta's turn to blink, before he laughs. "Jealous Prim will steal me away, are you?"

Katniss scowls. "Just shut up and kiss me, damnit." And crossing to him in one stride, she slings a hand behind his neck and yanks his lips down onto hers in a passionate Reaping Kiss.

Peeta groans immediately and his hands float down to her hips as he kisses her back. The passion with which he returns my goddaughter's affection makes the beautiful young woman gasp, her lips parting with the sound so that I can just detect Peeta's tongue slipping in between the split to greet hers.

As the not-quite-a-couple (frankly, I don't know what they are, and I doubt they do, either) gets lost in the kiss, Peeta rather boldly steals his arms about Katniss's waist and then dips audaciously lower, his palm tentatively caressing the curved flesh of her rear through her dress.

Katniss gasps sharply again, and then astonishingly hitches her leg around Peeta's waist, the hem of her blue dress riding up her creamy thigh. Letting out twin groans, my son and goddaughter stagger back into a small sapling by the Village fountain, Katniss's back pressed against the bark. Peeta is actually rutting himself against his love. Growling, taking his bottom lip between her teeth, Katniss actually grips Peeta's buttocks in her fists and furiously jerks her hips back.

Primrose and I look at each other, the little girl at a loss for what she is witnessing. "Auntie? What are Katniss and Peeta doing?"

I don't answer her, as that could get us lost in the weeds of a conversation she is absolutely not old enough to have. I clear my throat. Nothing happens. I clear it again, louder this time.

Katniss and Peeta violently break apart, their arms still strewn about each other and holding each other everywhere. Katniss blushes beet-red at the very compromising position she now finds herself in and disentangles herself from Peeta's embrace. Stepping away from him, she appears stunned by how carried away they both got. No, more than that – she appears frightened.

I laugh tightly. "All right, you two. That's enough luck to feed the whole district! Now, come on, let's go – we're going to be late!"

Primrose seizes Katniss's hand and drags her out of the Village, Peeta lightly jogging behind. "I'll catch up with you!" I call to their retreating backs. I can still see the children in the distance when Cray and his men arrive to escort me under heavy guard to the Justice Building. When we arrive, they let me in through a side door and I meet with my brother-in-law, the Mayor, quietly.

When the clock strikes two, I am ushered out onto the stage and take my usual seat. Merle, tragically balding too early, reads off the Treaty of Treason. Then he reads the names of past District 12 Victors.

"The Victor of the 10th Hunger Games – Lucy Gray Baird!" Everyone bows their heads in respect for our mysterious first Victor, long since vanished.

"The Victor of the 50th Hunger Games, or Second Quarter Quell – Maysilee Donner!" I had worked out an agreement with my brother-in-law a long time ago to continue using my maiden name when announcing me. I do business under my maiden name in the Capitol. Danny at least has never seemed to mind.

A brief, traditional video is played, extolling the glory of the Games, and then our escort, Effie Trinket – clad in a purple and pink wig – takes the microphone. "I just love that!" she manages, breathless.

She wastes no time. "Ladies first!" Dipping her forearm into the bowl and sifting through the slips, the way that her predecessor, Dolly Evana, once did before selecting Haymitch and changing my life forever, she selects one wisp of paper with a flourish.

I barely have time to steel myself before Effie is announcing in a clear, crystalline voice:

"Primrose Everdeen!"

All I can think of as the world stops turning is, Well, I hope poor Peeta has an appetite for Capitol leather – he's going to have to eat his dad's hat.