Peeta pulls me against him as we stop at a stoplight, our bodies colliding as the cars rush past in their fever to get home. His hands press against my hips, holding me to him until the light signals our crossing. We move slowly through the streets, our fingers entwined and our lips occasionally brushing as we pause. Neither of us is in a rush, comfortable with ourselves and this night.

Though we haven't discussed everything, the expectations or the risks, we've made the big things known. We both know now, as we walk along in the quiet, that truth and trust are what we need to guide us as we move forward. It's all I can ask for with so much uncertainty and honestly, it's all I can offer.

"You know I'm going to put my foot in my mouth a lot, right?" I ask a few blocks from my apartment. Peeta laughs beside me, his shoe kicking at a rock along the sidewalk.

"I figured something like that. It's okay – I know we're not perfect. What if – maybe – I don't walk away when something has bothered me? Not like before?" he counters. I take the olive branch, grateful for it.

"That sounds good. And I'll try to think about things before I say them. It's kind of what I suck at but maybe – "

"No, Katniss, you don't suck at it. You have a steep learning curve and that's okay. These ideas have been taught to you, you didn't come up with them by yourself. I get it – I dealt, well, am still dealing with them too. You're going to find there are a lot of things I still judge about myself even though I should know better – it's normal," Peeta interrupts. His words make me stop abruptly, pulling his hand as he steps forward.

"Peeta," I state quietly, unsure of what to say next at the admission of his own self-judgement. I want to ask why he's so scared of his own body, of his own blood, why he hesitates to touch or why he holds himself to an impossible standard as I've seen him do with his recent dismissal from his job. I want to ask him everything about that but I don't get the chance before he interrupts my thoughts.

"I want to say 'ask me anything' here, but we both know there's going to be stuff that um, maybe we're not ready to discuss yet, am I right? Can we agree to just be honest about it? Maybe say just a simple 'not yet'?" he asks calmly, his voice steady and sure.

I nod at his suggestion, glad that he's open to taking this all slowly while we both gage ourselves. Internally I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders relaxing slightly.

"I'll do my best to answer any questions you might have when I can, but I want to get to know you. More of you. I want to know the Katniss beyond the centre and now I'm starting to ramble..." He peters off slightly, brushing at his brow as I smile at him. I wonder then what's in his mind – does he think of me as a mystery to be solved? Does he worry I'm not the someone he thinks I am, but someone else entirely?

Distractedly, my mind floats the idea that perhaps Peeta thinks I'll think he's someone else than the helpful man, teacher and friend who I've come to enjoy being around. Biting my lip, I worry the thought around in my head for a moment.

"I don't think you're only the virus, Peeta," I blurt out awkwardly. I have to suck in a breath to continue, careful to try to make my thoughts something understandable. "If that's what you're afraid of. I know I'm going to want to know more things eventually," I hesitate, trying to find the words to properly say what I'm feeling. "But it doesn't all have to be now. And it certainly isn't going to be... I guess what maybe I'm trying to say is, I want to meet you, not the virus. I don't need to know all your counts or whatever. I'm here because of all the good things I like about you, and all the other things I want to learn. I want to know the you outside the centre too, I guess is what I'm saying." His answering nod, his smile and the way he squeezes my hand mark his wordless agreement and I realize he's already come so far tonight and I don't want to force anything.

Besides, there's time. I have to keep telling myself that, because for some reason I can't help but think that maybe there isn't that much time for us

We start walking again, hand in hand as we digest each other's words. When we come upon the entrance to my apartment I stop, turning around slightly and gripping the railing behind me. The lasting thought about us and limited time makes my stomach turn and I don't want him to leave just yet.

"I'd invite you up, but I don't think that would be the best idea," I smile sadly. Peeta seems to pick up on the hesitation too, looking up to where our apartment window peeks out on the street. "Prim would never let me live it down if I brought you upstairs. She'd harass me until the end of time, you know." I make the subject lighter, forcing my thoughts to move past my imagined fears and on to the sister living upstairs who would thrill at the idea of Peeta coming up for a nightcap.

"Yeah, I get it. I have an interview in the morning anyways; I should probably get home and get some rest." He starts to step back, his body moving farther from mine than it's been all evening and suddenly I feel cold.

"Peeta wait!" I nearly shout, desperate to have him come back. He turns on his heel, smiling. "An interview? Where?" I know it's lame but why does it have to be over so soon? And how did we not have time to talk about the interview before?

I just want to talk about everything with this man it seems. I can't help the smile that is hurting my cheeks at the idea of him getting an interview somewhere new to do what he loves.

"A different school, across town. It's a long shot, but..." he trails off, his hands tucking in his pockets. I step down from the stoop of my building and stride towards him without thinking. My lips meet his in a surprisingly swift kiss, my hands grasping at his jacket lapels.

"That's for luck. And for the good time I had tonight. Text me tomorrow, after?" I ask as I pull away to put some distance between us.

"I will. Get going inside now though or else I might not leave," he jokes and nodding, I skip up the steps and into my building.

Though I want to, I don't look back at him walking away as I disappear through our lobby entrance. I know that if I were to look, there is the possibility that I'd chase him down and that would just be embarrassing.

For who?

I pause on the steps, my fingers coming to brush against my lips tentatively as though the pressure of Peeta's tongue has left its mark. I'm giddy inside, rarely having felt this way before. I remember the last time this feeling had bubbled within me, back in the ninth grade when my crush had smiled at me as I dropped off a delivery for my job. This is different though; my body is humming and despite everything that there is to think about, to worry about, in this moment none of it matters.

Peeta has made me forget the things that make me feel like I am drowning in this life, if only just for an evening.

It feels wonderful.

"Katniss, get your ass up here and tell me everything. I'm waiting," Prim shouts from above. I can't help the laugh or the sweat that curls in my palms as I move towards the fate that is my sister's in depth inquiry into my night.

"I thought I'd call, instead," Peeta's voice rings out of the other end of the line, static hogging most of the sound. I've scooted off to the hallway to take the call, away from my desk and the prying eyes of other employees trying to listen in.

"How did it go?" I ask into the phone, my fingers gripping the edge.

"It went. We'll see when I hear back. How's your day going?" I nearly sigh, wishing for details but not getting any.

"Oh, you know. Answering phones and placing orders. It's a real thrill a minute. I need to get something better and more permanent soon. What are you up to now? Heading to the centre for the afternoon?" Dragging the toe of my boot along the carpet I trace a pattern before me, listening for his breath on the other end and missing the ding of the elevator behind me.

"Well, I was going to ask – " The dial tone sounds in the phone and I pull it away, confused, to see the 'Call Ended' signal while his voice still clearly echoes around me.

"Huh?"

"I said," I startle as his hand lands on my shoulder, surprise spinning me towards him as he tucks his phone in his pocket. "I was going to ask if you wanted to grab some lunch. There's a deli around the corner we could go to?"

Smiling, I nod, excited and without words at his surprise.

After grabbing my bag and clocking out for lunch, we slip downstairs and out onto the street. The daylight is warm though the wind is brisk, picking up around my thinning jacket and causing a chill to run up my skin. I'm thankful then that the deli was just around the corner, tucked inside a small alcove of space but still bustling with the lunch crowd.

"What do you feel like?" he asks, stepping towards the counter.

"Cold!" I shout in return. Turning towards me, he raises an eyebrow at my answer and pauses. Oh. "Schnitzel on rye with salt and lemon. And soup. Any kind."

"Two of those, actually. And can we get the barley stew? And two waters." Watching him interact with the man behind the counter is enjoyable – Peeta easily makes conversation, joking and playing along with the man's puns and out of turn phrases. I envy this skill of his, the ability he has with words to just make small talk. I know if I were to return here, I'd easily place my order and wait silently against the wall until my number was called.

I don't do small talk.

"Let's grab a seat back here," Peeta says, motioning towards the back of the deli to where a few sets of tables are scattered. We tuck ourselves deep into the corner, away from the door and the cold breeze that accompanies each person's entry. "He's going to bring out the food when it's ready."

"I don't know how you do it," I mention over the rolling conversations and noise that swirls around us. Peeta cocks his head, his brow furrowed in question. "The friendliness. How are you so good at it?"

It seems like a silly question but I can't help but wonder. In all my stereotypes of kids who grew up hard I figured that Peeta would be withdrawn from people, maybe a little more abrasive, but he's not. At all. It's what drew me to him in the first place but I still find myself astonished by it. How could he live the life he's had but still be so kind to everyone?

"How do you know it's not an act?" He counters, surprising me with the serious tone in his voice. I scowl, unsure of how to react to this different side. Until he grins and shakes his head. "Sorry, just kidding. But for real, I don't know. It's just how it's always been. How did your homecoming go last night?"

The change of subject is welcome, my nerves hot from my worry about overstepping myself already. Instead I laugh, recalling my sister and her written list of questions she wanted to ask me so that she could record the –

"Momentous occasion – can you believe she called it that? Rude. In her journal – "

"Here you go!" The greying man with his white apron sets our tray down before us, his enjoyment evident as he does so. "Hope you two enjoy." He winks, nodding to Peeta before returning to his place at the counter. I dip into the soup and pause, blowing the steam as a force of habit. When I look up, Peeta is staring at me, his gaze intense.

"What?" I start, putting down my spoon and touching my face to see if I've sprouted horns or something.

"You've got something – " He leans towards me, his hand at my cheek softly brushing my skin before he jerks forward and kisses me. Pulling back, he tucks his napkin in his lap and smiles widely. "Got it."

Momentarily stunned, I stare at him as he begins to dig into his meal, his long fingers wrapping around the spoon. I'm entranced, my blood humming, before someone around us drops a tray and causes me to jump.

"You were talking about Prim's list?" Peeta breaks into my thoughts, moving from the stew to his sandwich.

"Ah, yes. She wrote down a list and started asking me about everything, what base we got to, what your story was, if you told me all of your deep dark secrets. Don't worry though, I told her she'd better talk to you for that information. But otherwise, I kept it simple. She seemed a little put out about my answers so watch out." Nibbling on my schnitzel, I let the memory from the night prior coast over me and warm me. His lips on mine, his warmth and laughter.

"Well, I can handle her- don't worry. So, what are you up to this afternoon?" I cock my head to the side, confused that he would ask because he should know that I'm working. "I mean, after work," he adds, swallowing the last of his food and wiping his hands on his napkin.

"Ah, well. I go from here to job number two. It's a double header today, really thrilling I know. Then hopefully back to the apartment for some sleep." The whole idea of the rest of my day exhausts me but I know it's necessary. That's the reality of it; no matter how lost I get in thoughts of Peeta and his kisses.

I really need to stop getting distracted by that.

"Too bad. Annie and Finnick were hoping we could all get some dinner tonight." I catch the look of disappointment in his face and the mask he throws over quickly to try to hide it.

"Yeah, I'm sorry – "

"No, no. Don't ever apologize. It's all good. Your lunch is almost over, want me to walk you back?" My eyes flicker to the clock over the counter, the hour nearly finished, and I frown. I don't want it to be done. Not yet.

"Sure." I can't help the deflation in my voice.

Clearing our table, we return our trays to the counter and Peeta bids the man a farewell before we walk back out into the cold. The ride in the elevator is quiet, both of us holding our words for some reason. When we reach my floor I turn to him and smile, unsure of how to say goodbye without sounding so pathetic about it.

"I'll text you later, okay?" I nod and let go of his hand, the one I wasn't aware I was holding until now. Smiling, he leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips, so much different from the one he'd given me not long ago in the deli.

I want to linger in this moment, let it sink in and let the feel of it consume me. I want his hands in my hair, his skin against mine.

I shake my head of those thoughts, my brow pursing as I realize how quickly I've moved in my want for Peeta. Where did this hunger come from?

"Go back to work now," he laughs lightly, stepping back and into the waiting elevator. I give him a small wave before the doors close, my last glimpse of his crooked smile making my toes curl.

How am I going to survive this?

AN: I just went back and responded to most of the reviews/comments I knew were outstanding and I apologize for taking so long. I promised when I started getting reviews that I would respond to all of them because I wanted to show my appreciation for you taking time to write to me and I kinda fell away from that. I still love you all, and still thank all of you for sticking around and reading this. I hope you continue to enjoy it and if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me. Thanks again to my super awesome beta, Opaque, who even checks in on me when I have radio silence because life is a shitshow. You're the best.