"Kittttttty Kat…" The crooning voice sings out to me, melodic and light and a vast change from the voices that have haunted my dreams for the past month.

"Come on Kitten, time to get up," the sweet voice calls again and I refuse, snuggling in further to the heat source next to me.

But then there's an arm.

And jeans.

Leaping up, I nearly fall off the couch as Rye's maniacal laughter fills the room and my once restful mind. I scowl, throwing a pillow towards him and looking hazily towards Peeta who's grinning slightly.

"How long was I asleep?" I ask, rubbing my eyes and then returning to Peeta's side where I tuck myself in again. Rye's hand is around my arm in an instant, pulling me away and until I'm standing.

"No, Kitten, it's time to go. We need to get our beauty sleep," Rye states and I frown, looking towards him and away from Peeta to see if he's absolutely mad.

He isn't.

He's dead serious.

"What do you mean? Aren't you going home?" I ask Peeta, turning to him, confused. I'd half hoped to spend the night with him after everything we've been through.

"Not tonight. Brother dear of mine is camping out here for a few days," Rye replies for him, stepping into my line of vision and giving me a look that I hadn't expected from him.

One that says 'don't fuck this up'.

I'm inclined to listen. He's been here before and I haven't. I need to get this through my head that some things are different than others in this situation.

"Oh," I mutter and shake my head quickly to clear the cobwebs. "Yes, okay. No, I should definitely go home, you're right. I've got a double tomorrow and Prim is coming back so I should clean up and get some sleep."

It sounds more pathetic saying it aloud, the tone of my voice only unwittingly adding insult to injury.

"You've got a double tomorrow? But you look like you've barely slept," Peeta questions from his place on the couch, his gaze focused on me as I pull on my shoes.

"Yeah, well… The hours are there. Make hay while the sun shines, you know?"

My positive framing doesn't make it sound any better and soon Peeta is there standing with me, his hands tucked in his pockets as though he doesn't want to touch me and I can't help thinking how bizarre all of this is and wondering if its actually a dream.

Peeta not going home. Peeta staying with Rye for a few days. Rye taking charge and kicking me out.

I'm so confused.

"Will you call tomorrow?" Peeta asks as a yawn slips past his lips. I've finally gotten my shoes on again and I'm standing still, unsure of whether I should give him a kiss goodbye or if Rye will get in between us.

"Yes, I can do that, um…" I chew my lip and look to Rye who rolls his eyes and turns to head back to the couch. Thankful that's he's no longer watching me like a hawk, I look to Peeta and give a small smile. "Are you going to be okay? Like, has he house arrested you or something?" My question evokes a deep laugh from Peeta who shakes his head before pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"He's just taking care of his little bro, don't worry," he soothes and when still I frown he sighs and looks back to his brother on the couch, a strange look coming over him. "He hasn't been to my place to clean it up yet. I, uh… Almost slipped and he wants to check it before I go back. He's just trying to help."

"I could go, tomorrow for you," I interject, stepping closer despite the way my fears about Peeta relapsing blossom in my chest and make me anxious. I want to help him, but how do I even start?

"No, that's not a good idea," he replies lowly, his body straightening up slightly.

"What do you mean? Can I not be trusted or - "

"No, Katniss, no. Look, Rye knows where I hide shit. He knows every nook and cranny of my place and more so he knows what exactly he's looking for. I know this seems like lockdown, but he's helping me right now," he says, looking back to his brother.

"Can't I help you?" I ask quietly, hurt that I'm being excluded. I want to be there for him, to help him get past this, but I can't if he won't let me.

"You already have, just by hanging out tonight. You really have no idea the effect you have, do you?"

He turns back to me, his thumb swiping against the shell of my ear before he continues. "I know you want to help, but right now this is what's helping me, okay?"

Reluctantly, I nod and rest my head against his chest.

I don't really want to leave. Not as I walk aimlessly through the streets, debating whether to go back, before hailing another cab once I realize it's nearly one in the morning. When I'm finally home I don't tidy up for Prim or even think about the tasks that await me tomorrow - instead I crawl into my bed and try to ignore the coolness of my sheets and the lack of Peeta next to me.

I'm nearly unconscious when I hear my phone buzz on the bedside table, waking me enough so that I can roll over and grab it, pressing the talk button without looking.

"Is this okay?" The voice on the other end asks and I'm instantly comforted, Peeta's voice chasing away the darkness.

"Yes. I'm really glad you called," I reply, a smile coming to my lips.

"Me too. I wanted to say I'm sorry I couldn't spend the night with you," he whispers and I can picture him on Rye's couch, whispering so as not to wake his brother up.

"It's okay. This is best for right now. I can live with it as long as you can," I joke lightly. Peeta laughs and then sighs into the line.

"I know. I just hate that this is the reason. I wish I could be normal for you, you know? This is so much to ask of you and hell, if I could imagine life without you… But I can't. God, that's so pathetic sounding. I'm sorry," his words peter off and I'm struck by the feelings that overwhelm me.

"I'm glad you can't imagine it without me… Because I can't imagine it without you either," I reply quietly, wishing I could give him more. But I've never been good with words. "We'll get through this, Peeta. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you."

"Me too."

And I do, so much so that my heart squeezes in my chest as I think it.

We don't hang up that night, falling asleep to the sound of each others breaths and revelling in whatever closeness we can get. When I wake up, it's not to my alarm or the sun streaming through my window, it's to Rye's voice on the other end.

"If you want to help learn, I'm heading over after work around five. Hopefully I'll see you there," he bids and then the line dies leaving me scrambling to get ready for work.

I've already cancelled my second shift by the time I get to my first job, calling in a family emergency and using the good favour from my boss to ensure I'm able to make it to Peeta's apartment by the time Rye gets there.

The day runs quickly, the hours passing in a sleepy fog until it's quitting time and I'm heading off with a newfound energy.

"You made it," Rye says almost in awe when I jog up the steps, only a few minutes late.

"Huh?" I counter, looking down for something wrong with me that would have made me not show. When I see nothing, I look up to see Rye staring at me for a moment longer with a strange look on his face.

"Just… Nevermind. Let's get to this so we can get some food. Peeta doesn't know you're here, he'd hopped in the shower before I found his phone. Here, you should use these," he adds, handing me a pair of latex gloves that I examine for a moment before pulling them on. "I wanted to see if you'd actually show before I told him you were coming. Let's start in the kitchen."

I follow Rye around Peeta's apartment, watching him pull up floorboards and look into pots at the back of cupboards. The process takes nearly two hours, our hands thankfully coming up empty at the end but for the 'hit kit' Peeta had somehow obtained before calling his brother for help. I don't want to see it, not really, but Rye insists so that I recognize the pieces in case I ever see them around in the future. Looking at the box, I recognize bits from the kits Peeta had shown me at Posi+ive and my heart sinks.

"You're quiet," Rye states as we settle into a booth at the diner down the street and quickly order our food.

I can't look at him, afraid he'll see the worry in my eyes and hold it against me.

"Katniss, this isn't common," he goes on, reaching forward until his hand interrupts my line of vision towards the vinyl table. "I've only done this maybe two or three times in the past couple years. Since Peeta got sober he hasn't needed me to sweep really. In his old place I used to break in and steal all his shit so he couldn't use but that didn't work out so well. It was an effort to put him at rock bottom for a long time so I know his little tricks for hiding things. When we got this apartment we spent days finding nooks and crannies that could be used in case he did relapse."

I let him continue on, explaining how he'd found Peeta that day the hospital had called him. How he hadn't realized how bad it really was until he'd seen his baby brother rail thin on a ward bed with sheet white skin.

"But he's worked hard to come back from that and so anytime he needs me, I'm there for him. I wasn't there when he needed me when he was dealing with Mum and I won't forget that. But this?" I watch him wave around his hand and finally meet his eyes. "Katniss, he still struggles, but this battle was beyond just cravings for a fix - the stress, the loss, thinking he'd pushed you away...he is one strong son of a bitch, literally, to have not relapsed with everything going on right now."

I sit back and let Rye's words sink in, the whole of it beyond just Peeta's description, leaves me wanting more than anything to hold Peeta and never let go. Before it even comes to the forefront of my mind I'm sliding into the booth beside Rye and gripping my arms around him, so unbelievably thankful that he's here now.

"Thank you, for keeping him alive so I could meet him," I whisper as I hold on tight. Rye laughs and pats my back lightly.

"Thank you for having the balls to do this. I know a lot of girls who wouldn't even give him a chance and it's fucking destroying to know that. So thank you," he pulls back and the smile on his face is blinding.

"No need for thanks. I think I'm the lucky one here," I say, moving back to my own side of the booth.

The rest of the meal centers on more upbeat topics - a round of jokes coupled with stories about Rye's new conquest, a girl named Delly who keeps turning him down no matter what tactic he uses.

"You mean she didn't fall for the angel pickup?" I laugh loudly, the crude pickup line that Rye uses almost making me choke on my food.

"No! Not even a laugh out of her. I don't get it," he admits honestly, shaking his head. "I don't know what it is about her."

"Well, that's tough luck - " I answer, my words interrupted by my phone ringing in my pocket. "Hello?"

"Katniss, this place is a disaster. Tell me please that it's because you made up with Peeta," Prim groans into the phone. I can picture her standing in the front room, a few dishes here and there and a couple of my shirts strewn about marring the clean apartment she strives to maintain.

"Well, I guess, yes," I answer between bites of my food. The squeal on the other end of the line even causes Rye to look at me with a cocked eyebrow. "I'm actually eating dinner now. What are you doing later?"

"Probably collapsing on the couch and having a movie marathon. Will you be home later?"

Nodding along despite the fact that she can't see me, I look up to Rye who is motioning to me for my phone. Reluctantly, I hand it over to him and watch him carefully.

"Hi, who's this?" he asks brightly and I turn my focus back to the food before me. "No, haha, it's not Peeta. I'm Rye - yes, good to talk to you too. Oh? You've heard about me, eh?" He looks up at me, cocking his eyebrow again. "That's not so good. I'll need to talk to him about that. Yes - she'll likely be at my place again. Come over. We'll have a movie night, the four of us. Yes, I'm serious - no Prim, I'm not joshing you."

I stare at him as he gives Prim his address, eventually hanging up the phone and shrugging towards me.

"You were going to be there anyways. And besides, we're each others only family, we might as well hang out and get to know one another."

The smile that breaks across my face accompanies me until my muscles hurt.

AN: I've got nothing but thanks for ya'll.