He made us a picnic on the roof. I look at the set-up: the blanket, the food, everything. He's trying to re-create our last day together before the Quell. I'm speechless. I can't believe he'd do this for me. And yet…This is the boy with the bread, the boy who took a beating to feed me when I was starving. My Peeta. Of course he would do this for me. Of course he would recreate our rooftop picnic; the moment that I agreed to live in forever with him.
It's perfect. But when I think of all the effort he went to… "Peeta…this is too much…" I say slowly, shaking my head.
"But you'll allow it?" He says, squeezing my hand.
"I'll allow it," I say. I smile at him, my boy with the bread, and I squeeze his hand back. "Peeta, I—" I break off. "I love it." I love you, I don't say.
He smiles at me sweetly. "Well, come on then," he says. He leads me over to the blanket and we sit, facing each other, and I finally notice all the food that is spread out before us. How long must it have taken for him to do this? There's mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, bread, and to my great surprise, chicken. I have always loved chicken, but rarely eaten it. There are also a couple of small chocolate cakes, beautifully decorated, as usual. Each one has a small katniss flower on it in white icing.
And, on top of that, are apple slices. I remember the apples that we ate on the roof and the game we played by tossing them against the force field and waiting for them to bounce back. This is too much. I don't deserve this. All of this food will be more than enough to feed the both of us; we'll have leftovers tomorrow. At least all of these foods keep fairly well, except maybe the gravy, but we can always heat that up on the stove. The chicken will spoil before the rest of the food, but it seems as though Peeta purchased a couple of chicken breasts, not a whole chicken. That shouldn't be a problem.
We eat. We feed each other the apple slices. We dribble gravy over our mashed potatoes and watch it run into our green beans and get soaked up by our bread. And when I feel as though I can't eat another bite, I lie down with my head in his lap and he runs his fingers through my hair. I'm glad I didn't wear my hair in its usual braid tonight. I love the feeling of his fingers in my hair.
And when it's finally time to head home, we pack up the leftovers and carry them with us. We can eat them for dinner tomorrow, I muse, on a blanket in front of the fire. It'd be a picnic in our home, in front of the fire where we might one day have a toasting.
A toasting? Is that what I want? I had resolved never to marry, but that was before I fell in love with Peeta. Now, I can't imagine life without him, and I might want to make it official in that way… Though, it doesn't necessarily need to be something that happens now, but one day.
Peeta takes my hand as we walk back home and I smile at him. He smiles back and it sends shivers down my spine. The walk home suddenly feels impossibly long. My footsteps quicken in my eagerness to get home. If Peeta notices, he doesn't comment on it.
When we finally get home, I barely wait until we've finished putting the food away before I grab a hold of the front of his shirt and pull him towards me. My hands find the back of his neck and I kiss him fiercely. His hands settle on my waist once he's recovered from the shock of my boldness. He teases my lower lip with his tongue and I groan into his mouth.
He pulls away. "Katniss?" He seems to express a dozen questions in those two syllables, but I'm not ready to answer any of them, so I move to kiss his jawline, his neck, his collarbone. Each time I kiss a new place, I both feel and hear Peeta gasp. "Katniss… what… why….?"
"I want you," I reply simply. This seems to appease him and he finally resumes kissing me.
After some time, I draw away. "I didn't say 'thank you' earlier, for tonight," I say. "Thank you. I loved it." I love you, I still don't say. I wonder when the time will come that I'm ready to say it.
He kisses me lightly in response, lovingly, and I'm reminded of the first time we kissed after our return to District 12.
I woke up crying. I shook Peeta awake and then hugged him close, as though his arms could hold the pieces of myself together. "Did you have a nightmare?" He asked. He brushed the hair away from my forehead gently. All I could do was nod in response and clutch him tighter, burying my head in his chest. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Am I ever going to stop feeling scared?"
"Hey," he said, squeezing his arms tighter around me and matching the ferocity of my embrace. "We'll get through this the same way we've gotten through everything else: together."
For a second, I didn't know what he meant by "this." Just tonight? This post-war trauma? But then I realized, he meant life. We'll get through life together.
I thought back to all of the difficult times in my life, and how he somehow helped me through all of them. Even before we knew each other, he gave me the hope I needed to get through my father's death by giving me the bread. He's always been there for me, enriching my life and making it better. He's the greatest man I've ever known.
"Ok," I finally said. I looked into his blue eyes and hoped that he could read the emotions on my face, and that he'd understand. He looked back at me steadily, his hand cupping my cheek, and I pressed my lips to his.
This was the first time we'd kissed in months and I could feel the pent-up longing between us. It sizzled and sparked, but I didn't want it to grow into a fire just yet. I was still so very tired from my nightmare. I pulled away and rested my forehead against his. Our breaths intermingled as we tried to catch our breath. I pressed another, softer kiss to his lips. Then I rested my head against his chest once more, he wrapped his arms around me and I sighed contentedly.
The comfort of his affection and embrace swept through me, and finally, finally allowed me to drift off to a dreamless sleep.
I smile at him. This is Peeta, and I silently lead him upstairs to our room.