Dearest Diary,

How am I meant to sleep without Peeta's arms around me? His presence has become an essential part of my routine with alarming speed. Regrettably, this of real concern to me, and I have no jokes for you this night.

Instead, I have become one.

She traced the sound of his footsteps up the stairs and down the hall, pausing before the door of the spare bedroom.

Katniss grinned when she heard him knock. "Wrong room."

She ought to feel embarrassed, waiting in a man's bed in nothing but an oversized shirt, yet when Peeta opened the door, she Katniss found herself unabashedly stretching out, the shirt's hem riding even further up her bare legs. "I have made myself thoroughly at home."

"It felt presumptuous to assume you'd be in here."

"Luckily, you've never made that mistake before."

"Never going to let me forget that, are you?" He shrugged off his shirt and stockings.

Katniss watched as Peeta washed his face at the basin. Their eyes met in the mirror, and he grinned at her. Not so long ago she would have broken that kind of contact, but now, marveling at how quickly matters had changed between them, she smiled back.

Some of that fondness seeped into her reply. "It makes me wonder why you want to keep me around really. It's a strange man who wants to be forever reminded of his mistakes."

Peeta finished drying hi face and stated towards the bed. 'I don't see it that way at all," he said, settling himself beside her. "I think –" Peeta punctuated his words with a kiss to her cheek "- that you are searching for compliments."

"I am not!"

That earned her another kiss. "And as your fiancée, I am of course happy to provide them."

"Don't you dare."

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

Katniss groaned. "What did Shakespeare do to deserve this?"

"Thou art more lovely –"

Because two could play at that game, she cut him off with a kiss. A distracted Peeta was much easier to pin down than an alert one, and she straddled his torso before coming up for air. "More temperate as well, yes?"

"The particulars may be off, but the emotion is there." His hands settled on her bare thighs. Peeta's fingers slid slowly up her leg, pushing the hem of her shirt up until it rested just below the crease between her leg and torso.

She wet her lips and waited for him to continue, but Peeta seemed content to play with the hem, twisting his finger into the cloth and then unwinding it.

Katniss shifted, impatient.

In response, Peeta's fingers slipped underneath the cloth to ghost along her hips. It still wasn't enough.

She pushed his hands away. Half a second later, the shirt hit the ground.

Katniss looked down at Peeta, who was suddenly having great difficulty meeting her eyes. "You are the worst."

"Second worst." Peeta shifted beneath her, and before Katniss understood what was happening, she was on her back with Peeta above her, his weight braced on his forearms. From this vantage point, she had an excellent view of his arms. She had known he was strong, of course, but he had maneuvered her as though she was weightless. Should that be so exhilarating?

She didn't give herself long to consider it. Katniss pulled Peeta down onto her, wrapping her legs around him as her lips found his.

Last night had been an unknown. A thrilling unknown, yes, and one she had been desperate to explore, but a mystery nonetheless. Tonight, she felt confident as her hands roamed over Peeta's back. That confidence was probably unwarranted, but in this area, Katniss would take what she could get.

"Off," she said, tugging at his breeches.

Peeta's struggles with the tight leggings formed an awkward dance, and Katniss could not help but grin.

"Is something funny?" he asked.

"You."

"Good." His first leg free, Peeta added an extra shimmy as he pulled the second out, eliciting a giggle from Katniss. "I love your laugh."

Her reply was lost in a shiver as he climbed back on top of her. She rubbed her foot along his calf, the crisp hair there tickling against her toes.

Peeta clung to her as though she was the very air he breathed. He trailed bruising kisses over her neck and shoulders as his hands worked their way underneath her. They splayed over her back, lifting her up and pressing her as tightly against him as possible.

She gasped when Peeta's teeth scraped against her nipple. "I want you inside of me," she managed as his lips caught around her.

He stilled, looking up at her from her breast. She could see the question in his eyes.

Katniss took a steadying breath. "I understand what I'm asking for. I want all of it."

Peeta's lips met hers, and she settled into the bed, spreading her legs when she felt his hands on her thighs. Katniss' heart leapt when his fingers touched her center.

"Is this good?" Peeta asked as his finger slipped inside her.

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. It wasn't entirely true. Though there was no pain, and she could make out faint curls of pleasure, there was a foreignness that hung over it. But though she felt it, and acknowledged it, that strangeness did nothing to cull her desire for more.

"I'm ready. Now."

"Pushy." Peeta's voice was hoarse. Still, he took her hand in his, winding their fingers together as he pressed inside.

Her breath hitched. If his finger had been strange, this was alien.

"You're all right. You're all right." Peeta nuzzled into her hair, and his thumb stroked her hand.

Katniss forced herself to breathe. She focused on his lips, his hands, his warm weight on top of her, and almost of their own volition, her hips began to move.

Peeta moaned as his hips canted against hers. It took them a moment to find a rhythm, but once they did, she was lost inside it, riding it higher and higher. Her eyes found his, and she clenched his hand as she came, Peeta joining her an instant later.

It was through a hazy kind of pleasure that she remembered them separating and cleaning up. Peeta turned out the light as she settled back into bed. When he climbed back in and his arm draped over her, Katniss was too exhausted to even open her eyes. "Peeta? Would you mind if I was pushy again?"

She felt his head shake.

"Hold me tighter."

He kissed her shoulder as he gathered her even closer against him.

Waking up alert and afraid rarely signaled anything good. It took only seconds for Katniss to realize she faced no immediate danger, but instead of relief, she was left with a tremendous, soul-crushing guilt. Why was she here, sleeping between the softest sheets she had ever known, while Prim was captive? Logic told her she needed rest before she could save her sister, that she could do nothing until Hawthorne returned, but at this moment, logic held very little power.

Silent as the night itself, she slipped from Peeta's arms. The room was at its darkest, but it did not take long for her to locate her shirt and breeches where they had been discarded earlier. She winced at the light from the hallway as she opened the door. Katniss looked back to see Peeta's reaction. His face twitched, and for an instant, she thought he would wake, but he soon relaxed back into his dreams.

She hardly dared to breathe until the door was safely shut behind her. London was never truly silent, but as she padded down the hall to Peeta's studio, it felt as though her footsteps were the only noise in the entire city.

Katniss lit a lamp and settled herself into the desk chair to await the dawn. What else could she do?

She counted stars. From the Seam, it would have been an impossible task, but the lamps that burned seemingly everywhere in London drowned out all but the brightest stars. She was done far faster than she would have liked. Her attention then turned to biting her nails. It was a nasty habit, one she had not indulged in years. The nail on her ring finger was worn down to the flesh in record time, and it still could not take her thoughts away from what would happen today.

Finally, when she could distract herself no longer, her eyes settled on the paintings against the wall. If she was honest with herself, Katniss knew why she had chosen this room. Katniss had woken up determined to torture herself. Why not add another edge to that?

She crouched down next to the wall, moving the canvases to the side one by one until she reached her target.

"Hello, Carlotta," she whispered.

The woman gazed back at her, somehow both sultry and resolute.

She had not felt this small since her father died. Katniss wanted nothing more than to curl up into herself. Reason told her that this made no sense, that Carlotta was long gone and that if all went well, Katniss would have Prim, Mother, and Peeta back come nighttime, but that if loomed too large to be comforting.

She knew that the woman had nothing to do with Prim's kidnapping, but Katniss blamed Carlotta anyway. Those at fault were so far away, and this painting was inches from her face, and God wouldn't she enjoy putting her fist through the center of it. Her hand curled into a fist, and Katniss didn't care if all she was accomplishing now was making herself angry. It had been far too long since she had something to take out her frustrations on, and she would be damned if she let the opportunity escape her.

"Katniss?"

Her hand relaxed when she saw Peeta in the doorway.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine."

His eyes went from her, crouched down on the ground, to the painting. Katniss could see the moment of realization in his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it – um, her?"

"Not particularly."

"Should we anyway?" Peeta was still disheveled from sleep, his hair poking up in odd directions and his shirt not yet tucked into yesterday's breeches.

"Hawthorne should be here soon." She said it as an excuse, but when she looked towards the window and saw dawn just peeking over the horizon, she knew it was true.

"Later then."

She made a noncommittal noise and moved to the door.

Peeta moved enough that she could squeeze past, but not enough to be entirely out of her way. His eyes locked onto hers. "You know that I would follow you anywhere, to the ends of the earth if I had to."

"Yes." She hated how softly the word came out.

"And I couldn't be bothered to go as far as Italy."

Those words should have relieved her, but now all she wanted was to cry. She tore her eyes away from his before he could see any mist there. "I need to get ready. I'll see you tonight."

"Be safe."

The edge of her lip crooked up. "Only if you do as well."

"I think we have a deal."

A/N: I'm with Katniss on this one. Shakespeare did nothing to deserve this. Bringing back the old school fanfic disclaimers: please don't come back from the grave to sue me, Bill.