In His Arms
A/N: Okay, first of all, I hadn't really planned out whether this would be a one shot or not but after getting so much immediate response I decided, why not? So thank you so much to all you guys who reviewed and asked for more. It means a lot and PLEASE keep responding and critiquing me, I really love the feedback.
Anyway, here's chapter two. Hope it's satisfactory. I just need more Hunger Games in my life even if I have to write it myself.
When I wake up in the morning the sun beats down through my eyelids. A deep red hue glows in my vision until I open my eyes. I blink the sleep away and curl my arms in tight. They close on air and I am instantly sitting upright.
Peeta. My mind can't even form a thought or a question. I can only think his name. I try to recall the previous night's events. It speeds through in my mind's eye but I stop on one moment. No, not a moment as much as a feeling. Heat. Wrapped all around me. Peeta's arms closed around me. His warmth pressed close to me as I sleep. I smile but my brow creases because…I'm not so sure this memory is real.
I don't make the bed or even bother to change my clothes; I need to know right now what's real.
When I find Peeta he isn't far away. My nose leads me down the stairs and I discover him in my kitchen standing over a sizzling pan of bacon.
"Good morning," he says with a bright grin. He is himself. I know this right away, he has the same look in his eyes that he had when I found him in my backyard with the wheelbarrow full of primroses after he returned to Twelve. Right now at least, he is Peeta.
Unfortunately I am not fully myself at the moment. I ask immediately, "You slept with me last night. Real or not real?"
His expression hardens a moment but he answers me. "Real." I watch the confusion flood his gaze. Before it can take away my Peeta I ask another question.
"You held me?"
No answer. He turns back to the pan.
"Real or not real?"
I wait in silence but suddenly remind myself, I can't lean on him like I used to. I've been good lately, fighting to get the real Peeta back, but every now and again I forget and resort to my old ways. Back when I relied on him to take care of me no matter what. I tell myself now that he can't do that anymore. My lungs breathe in a full breath of air and I try to save the moment after my rash actions.
Taking a couple plates from the cabinet I set the table without speaking a word. He sets the pan on the table along with a bowl of scrambled eggs I hadn't noticed before. As he cleans off the stove I sit down and say "I'm sorry." I know it's pathetic but I can't think of anything else to say.
He sighs, then turns to face me from across the kitchen. "I am too," he admits. My head cocks slightly at this. He comes over to sit beside me. "I don't know, Katniss. That's just it. I don't know the answer. Real or not real, I don't know." It takes me a moment but I understand. If I couldn't remember if I dreamed that he held me like he used to so many nights when I screamed in my sleep, why should I expect him to. I feel like a complete moron. He continues when I don't respond. "It's just…at night I get more confused. I dream memories, good and bad, but I can't sort out what's what in my sleep…"
I want so desperately to say something. Anything. But no words come to my lips. I open my mouth in hopes that something will come out but nothing does and I feel even more idiotic. In a poor attempt to cover, I take a piece of bacon and shove it in my mouth. Although it's still a bit hot, the texture is perfectly crispy. Only Peeta's touch.
"But I didn't have any more nightmares last night," he says softly.
My head snaps to look at him and our eyes lock on one another. I measure his stare as he reads my expression. It's all I can do to ask quietly, "You did?"
"Yeah," a half smile pulls over his lips for a moment and I have to smile too, "I mean, I was scared at first. I didn't want to hurt you, but when I woke up you were still clinging tightly to me and…I didn't want to kill you." I laugh at this and then stop when I realize he doesn't find it funny. Though I feel my cheeks turn pink at the thought of me clinging to him all night long. In the awkward moment that follows, he does laugh. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is, thank you."
I swallow the mouthful of soft, fluffy eggs I just shoved in my mouth and breath "You're welcome." He laughs again and I smile at the sound. Finally I think of something to say, "Well, you're welcome anytime here you know. Night or day."
At first he is uncertain, but when evening comes that night and he leaves to go home it's less than an hour before there's a knock on my door.