A/N - As always, huge thanks go to the wonderful Court81981 for help, love and support.

Sorry I'm not sticking to my original promise of posting every week; I'm afraid to say real life very much got in the way.

Anyway, don't forget to leave a little review; they really do make us smile, and I love chatting to people, so don't be shy! And feel free to drop by on tumblr and say hello - I'm alatarielgildaen on there too :)

Christmas was not Peeta's favourite time of year. The memories of his accident and subsequent loneliness were still too raw.

His first Christmas after it all had been hard. Terribly hard—but, thanks to his friends, just about bearable. Although he had woken up depressed and alone on Christmas morning, Finnick and Annie had made arrangements to come over in the early afternoon. Once they had helped him finish his care duties, the three of them had Christmas dinner together then played games and drank mulled wine well in to the night, helping him to forget the suffocating loneliness that he feared would otherwise consume him.

Last year, however, had been awful. He closed his eyes, and time slipped back an entire year, as if it were just yesterday.

Finnick and Annie had long wanted to go on holiday for Christmas, and had finally decided to do it last year. Two weeks in the Swiss Alps. And it had been a shocking revelation to Peeta just how much he relied on them both for company. They'd arranged to have a belated Christmas Day together when they got back, and Peeta figured he'd just treat the 25th like any other day. He hadn't bothered putting up any decorations at all, not seeing the point when it was only going to be for his own benefit. The lack of decorations would also help him keep up the pretence that the 25th was just another day. But as time dragged inexorably onwards, and it loomed ever closer, he began to realise how much he was dreading being entirely alone at Christmas.

On Christmas Eve he thought about making some kind of festive effort. He poured a couple of bottles of red wine into a pan, added some cinnamon, some cloves, a little grated nutmeg, some sugar, a generous glug of brandy and some chopped apples and oranges, and set it over a low heat. It didn't take long for the glorious smell of mulled wine to start to permeate his home, and, inspired, he then set about making mince pies, cheese straws and sausage rolls as well.

With something to focus on he stopped dreading the next day quite so much. He began with the short-crust pastry for the pies, as that would need to rest in the fridge for at least a couple of hours before it could be used. While letting the pastry rest, he made the sausage meat from a mix of ground walnuts, hazelnuts, spiced peaches and puy lentils, and made the rolls with some pre-bought flaky pastry. The cheese straws were a variation on his father's recipe, using his own homemade cashew cheese, and topped with toasted sunflower seeds and some smoked paprika.

Keeping his hands busy stopped his mind from wandering too far down dark paths, and he felt almost cheery as he rolled the pastry out. He took his time, carefully cutting out the pastry shells, filling them with a spiced fruit mix laced with a little brandy, then placing a delicately cut holly leaf, Christmas tree or star shape on the top before putting everything in to the oven. While waiting for them to cook, he took the opportunity to play with the cats for a while, getting them to chase the beam from a laser pen across his kitchen floor; a fruitless task for them but one which all three got highly involved in.

Once the food had come out of the oven and cooled, he mixed together some powdered sugar and cinnamon, and used a small sieve to coat each of the mince pies with a light dusting of it, giving them the impression of being covered with a faint layer of sparkling snow. He placed the sieve down and smiled at his handiwork.

That was when the loneliness truly began to strike. He looked at the mountain of food he had prepared, as if he were expecting a house full of guests. "Now what?" he said to himself, his voice hoarse from lack of use. His eyes turned to the pan full of mulled wine, steaming gently on top of the hob. Two whole bottles of wine. Far too much for him to drink alone…. He began to recall his first Christmas in this house. He and Jenn had been so happy. If he closed his eyes, he almost could picture her sat in her usual spot at the kitchen table. Sometimes when he was cooking she'd stand behind him, wrap her arms around his waist and press her lips between his shoulder blades, distracting him until he couldn't take it anymore and he'd be forced to put whatever he was doing on hold. He'd turn suddenly, scoop her up in his arms, and she would wrap her legs around his waist, he'd pin her to the wall, and together their kisses would meld seconds in to minutes, minutes in to hours… Peeta could almost feel her presence now; he could almost feel her lips as they claimed his over and over and over again.

He felt a deep pang of loss at the memories. He was no longer in love with her, that much he knew, but it didn't stop him dwelling on their happier times together. He missed her company. He missed her laughter, her jokes; he missed her brutal honesty, and he missed how tender she was when the two of them were alone…

Mulled wine was her favourite drink. She used to long for winter—and for Christmas especially—as it meant they could have a good reason to have a mug every single evening. He began to imagine her excited impatience as it was gently warming up, wanting Peeta to turn the heat higher to get it done faster. She would hover next to the hob, dipping the ladle in to the pan for just a little taste before it was ready, and Peeta would tell her that if she kept it up there would be none left, and she would laugh and say it was the perfect excuse to make even more.

With a smile, he took two mugs down from the cupboard. They had always intended to buy some glass mugs to serve mulled wine in and had somehow never gotten around to it. Using a ladle, he poured a serving in to her favourite mug, the Wizard of Oz one that she still loved despite the chip in the rim and the slightly cracked handle, and another serving in to the Spiderman mug she had bought him from a service station on a whim one day. She had filled it with Jelly Tots and Opal Fruits and had decorated it with a stick-on bow and had handed it to him as soon as she walked in through the front door. He had asked what the occasion was. "No special occasion," she had replied. "I just love you, is all."

It was only as he picked up the two steaming mugs and turned around to face the empty kitchen that he realised precisely what he had done. Jenn wasn't there. Of course she wasn't there. But he had, for a brief moment, convinced himself he wasn't alone.

With a heavy, shuddering sigh he poured the spare mug of the potent concoction back in to the pan, then placed a cheese straw, a sausage roll, and a mince pie on a small plate and took himself into his living room to sit down and try to enjoy the fruits of his labour. The silence in his home seemed suddenly oppressive and he found himself dreading the morning.

The clock on the wall told him it was just after 9 p.m. and he was just considering whether to go to bed purely to make time pass quicker when he heard a knock at his door. The sudden loud bang made him start slightly, and wondering who on earth it could be, he went to open his front door.

A group of about ten children, aged somewhere between eight and twelve, with a striking young woman with fiery ginger hair guiding them, were gathered on his doorstep. Some of the children were carrying lanterns, some were wearing Santa hats, and all were bundled up against the cold. As soon as Peeta opened his door, the woman offered a few words of encouragement to the children, and the group began to sing 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas.'

Peeta leant against his doorframe, smiling as he listened to the song and clapping loudly when they finished. "That was fantastic, thank you," he said to the gathered ensemble.

"We're collecting for the children's ward of Ipswich Hospital," said the striking redhead, holding up a bucket. "We're hiring children's entertainers to go around the ward tomorrow, and bring a little Christmas magic to the kids who can't be at home."

Her words brought the memories of his stay in that hospital two years prior directly to the forefront of his memory, and it felt like being dowsed in ice cold water. Christmas on the ward… it may not have been Christmas Day for him, but it was close enough…. And where was his 'Christmas magic?' He shook the feeling away, and with a smile said, "Of course, let me just get my wallet." He went back inside in to the warmth of his home, and found his wallet in the kitchen. The stacks of food he made caught his eye, and a notion occurred to him…. That redhead… She was rather attractive, in an unusual way…. And everyone out there must be freezing cold….

Taking ten pounds from his wallet, more than he would probably usually be able to afford to donate but he wanted to give a good impression, he made his mind up. As he dropped the note into the bucket, making sure she could see how much he'd put in, he said, "You know, it's really cold out, and I've just made some mince pies and sausage rolls, and some mulled wine. Would you like to come in and warm yourselves for ten minutes?"

All the children turned to the woman and the chorus of, 'Please, miss?' 'Can we?' 'Oh, please…' almost drowned out her turning Peeta's offer down.

"I don't think mulled wine is a good idea for children, do you?"

"I've got some spiced apple juice I could warm up if you like? Or I could make hot chocolate? It's really no trouble…." He realised that he really didn't want to be alone, that once these people had gone, that was it. He'd likely not see anyone again until Finn and Annie's return. The idea suffocated him; his lungs were suddenly filled with arctic water, he couldn't breathe….

A second round of enthused begging from the children ignited a tiny spark of hope in him, which was very quickly doused by the woman. "No," she said firmly. "I don't really think it's appropriate. We're on quite a tight schedule, and these guys need to get home and get to bed, otherwise Father Christmas might not show up for them." A few scandalised noises from the children told Peeta that the opportunity was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. "Thank you so much for your donation, it will make such a difference. Merry Christmas, and a happy new year to you."

"And the same to you," Peeta said, trying to smile but being entirely aware that the expression did not meet his eyes. He watched the group of children excitedly walk away, closing the door when they reached the end of his driveway and turned down the road out of his view.

The silence felt even louder and more oppressive now than it had before. His breath came out in a deep, ragged shudder, and he rapidly blinked away the sheen of tears. "Merry fucking Christmas." The words were barely above a whisper, but seemed to echo in the empty quiet of his home. He felt lost, unsure of what to do. Too awake to go to bed, but too fed up of being awake to stay up. Helping himself to another mug of mulled wine and adding an extra shot of brandy to the drink, he stretched out on his couch with the television on, turned the sound up, and tried to ignore the hollow feeling growing in his chest.

Three mugs of mulled wine later, he was feeling fuzzy headed and melancholy. There was no point staying up any longer, and so he dragged himself up to his bedroom, into his cold and lonely bed and forcibly promised himself out loud that the next day would be better.

And at first, his positive thinking worked. He woke early, took Belle for a walk, and managed to get all the CPL cats fed and cleaned before 9 a.m. After a light breakfast, he strolled out in to his back garden to feed the hens. Today wasn't Christmas. It was just the same as any other day. Only…. as he worked in the cold winter air, it became apparent that it wasn't like any other day. In the distance, church bells rang out in constant peals, and there was a certain sense of enchantment in the air that simply didn't exist outside of Christmas Day. He had worked as quickly as he could to finish off his duties and get back inside, away from the sound of the cascading bells, away from the illusion of magic outside, back to a place where he could drink on his own to try and forget his solitude.

Memories of the night before, of him inviting a stranger in to his home in a desperate attempt to try and combat the all-pervading sense of isolation that was his constant companion, returned with a vengeance. Twenty-six years old and he felt like this was it; this was all he had to look forward to for the rest of his days. A surfeit of alcohol only exasperated his negativity until at long last he wept himself to sleep with only his cats, his dog and a cheap bottle of whisky for company.

The memories of last Christmas were pretty far from pleasant. And when Katniss had asked him what he was doing for Christmas this year, those memories were dredged back to the surface.

"Peeta? You ok, hun?"

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok."

"So, what do you want to do?"

"I can't go anywhere, Katniss. I'll have to stay at mine. It's not like the animals can take a day off from needing to be fed."

"Then I'll come to you," she said.

He shook his head. "You don't need to do that," he told her. "What about your mum? Or your sister?"

"Mum doesn't know what day it is half the time, I'll go see her soon, but I haven't spent Christmas with her for years. And Prim's likely to be working. But if she's not, I'll be up this way anyway, so I'd still like to see you."

"Katniss, I…. I don't know. I'm not great with…. this time of year."

"All the more reason to not be alone, then."

"I don't want to bring you down."

"Maybe I can bring you up."

Everything she was saying made perfect sense. As much as he didn't want to risk her seeing him at his absolute worst, he really didn't want to have to face another Christmas on his own. "Ok then," he nodded at last. "I don't expect you to work on Christmas morning, though, so if you want to be with Prim and come over in the afternoon, I'd like that."

She kissed his lips, sending a flood of warmth through his chest as the realisation hit him at last. He wouldn't have to face Christmas alone again.

On Christmas Eve, the snow began to fall—large, fluffy flakes that drifted down slowly from the sky and settled on the cold ground. After making sure the animals all had enough clean bedding and that the heating in their enclosures would provide them all with adequate warmth, he trudged his way indoors, leaving imprints of his thin, canvas trainers in the layer of crisp snow. As soon as he got indoors, he kicked his water-logged trainers off and peeled away his drenched socks, cursing under his breath at how cold his right foot felt. Grabbing a towel and drying himself roughly, he made a promise to himself try and buy some new shoes in the January sales; he'd put up with having a cold, wet foot for far too long, but new shoes always seemed like such a luxury.

Outside the snow began to fall faster and heavier, and Peeta felt the corners of his mouth lift in a little smile, eternally grateful that he had managed to get his outdoor chores finished before the weather got too bad. His mind drifted to Katniss…. Prim would be working on Christmas Day, so Katniss was spending the evening with her, and would head over to his at some point the following day. He hoped she wouldn't have too much difficulty driving in the snow, and just as he began to worry for her safety, he received a text from her. 'Just got to Prim's. Phew! Will call you tonight. Love you xx.'

He looked out of the window at the falling snow once again. It certainly added an extra festive feel to the place. Just two days earlier, he had realised that Katniss would be expecting his home to be decorated for Christmas, and he had hauled himself up into the attic to try and find any old decorations. He breathed an enormous sigh of relief when he found the artificial tree and a box containing fairy lights and baubles and hurriedly put them up in his living room. He may not have appreciated the added clutter, but his cats certainly did, making a game of pulling the baubles from the lower branches and chasing them around on the floor, hiding them behind his sofa and under the coffee table.

With the rest of his day free, he began to repeat his routine from the previous year: slowly simmering a large pot of mulled wine, making mince pies and sausage rolls in preparation for the next day. Only this time he was doing it not to simply pass the time and try to keep loneliness at bay, but because he had someone to share it with. Whereas the previous year he had been dreading the morning, suddenly he began to feel a nervous excitement that he hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe this year Christmas wasn't going to be so bad after all….

Katniss arrived not long after three in the afternoon, shaking from the bitter cold, and he immediately pressed a mug of cinnamon-and-cayenne-spiced hot chocolate into her hands to warm her up. "Perfect timing," he said to her, kicking off his wet shoes and pouring a mug for himself. "I've just finished up outside."

"Excellent," she replied. "Let me go and put your presents under the tree, and then we can help warm each other up before we open them. Wait here." On almost silent feet, she ducked out of the kitchen, and as Peeta took a seat at his kitchen table, he could hear his front door open as Katniss nipped back out into the cold to retrieve presents from the car. He cradled his mug of chocolate, sipping at the reviving liquid until Katniss returned a few minutes later. Setting his mug down on the table, he put his arms out to her, and she took a seat in his lap, her arms around his shoulders.

"Missed you," he said in a low voice as he nuzzled into her neck.

"You too," she replied as she ran a finger down the side of his face. "Oh, and before I forget…." She snatched her handbag up from the floor and rummaged inside for a few moments, withdrawing a small plant covered in white berries, which she held above her head with wide-eyed innocence. Peeta smiled as he tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear before gently cupping the side of her face and drawing her towards him. Their lips met briefly before she rested her forehead against his and said, "Merry Christmas."

"Same to you."

They held each other, soaking up each other's warmth until Katniss broke the comfortable silence. "What's for dinner? I've never had Christmas without turkey before."

"Then your Christmases have been boring. Must be so dull, having the same thing year in, year out."

"Alright," she said, sounding offended. "Christmas hasn't ever been dull, thank you, and there's more to Christmas Day than food."

"I know that, and yet you'd be surprised how, when you suggest to most people that they try and imagine a Christmas without a dead, tortured bird whose anal cavity has been filled with minced pig, they'll lose their fucking minds." He took a deep breath before continuing. He massively appreciated the changes that Katniss had made in herself but couldn't help the annoyance that she still thought of all that death as normal. Biting his tongue, as he didn't want to get into a discussion about it on Christmas Day, he said, "Anyway, we're having beetroot salad with lemon tamari vinaigrette and baked hazelnut cheese for a starter, balsamic walnut and lentil pie with carrot and tamarind chutney for a main course, and orange and Cointreau crème brûlée for dessert." She nodded, but seemed unwilling to look at him and he experienced a sinking feeling. She'd not been there ten minutes, and he was already managing to fuck Christmas up for both of them. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat he desperately searched for the right words to say. "For suggesting that your Christmases haven't been up to scratch. Sorry. I told you, I'm not good at this time of year."

"Forget it," she said after a pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Anyway, how would you like to get me something warm and alcoholic to drink and then open some presents?"

He nodded as she stood up off his lap and wandered through to the living room. As he watched her go, he sat back in his chair, pushed his hair off his face, and he promised himself he'd redouble his efforts to make today work.

"What do you want?" he called to her retreating form.

"What can you do for me?"

"Mulled wine or cider? Boozy coffee? Hot chocolate with a shot of Kahlua?"

"Surprise me."

Hoping he was making the right choice, he flicked the kettle on and spooned some instant coffee into the bottom of a mug, topping it up with hot water as soon as it was ready, her favourite hazelnut milk, and a generous shot of Tia Maria, while making a simple tea for himself.

When he went through to the living room, he found Katniss sitting on the floor sitting next to what looked like a small mountain of presents.

"Who are they for?" he asked her, while handing over the mug of coffee.

"You, silly."

His stomach dropped once again. They hadn't set any limits on what to get each other. He only had two presents for her, and neither had been particularly expensive. His two tiny gifts to her looked mean-spirited and pathetic next to the stack of parcels she'd got for him. Sharing Christmas had been a bad idea from the start, he knew that; he should have insisted, he should have put his foot down…

"Katniss," he said quietly, and he could feel the heat radiating from his reddening cheeks, "you shouldn't have done this."

"But I wanted to."

"Well, I wanted to too, but you know I can't compete with all this."

"It's not a competition, Peeta," she laughed.

"I know, but—"

"I wanted to treat you."

"But—"

"Look, growing up I didn't have much. I always wanted to treat my loved ones, and I couldn't. Well, now I can, so don't try and stop me from doing what I've always wanted to do."

Unable to meet her eyes, he sighed deeply. "Well, I'm the opposite. I'm still not used to having nothing to give. And I hate not being able to treat you."

"Peeta," she said, reaching out and stroking the side of his face, "I didn't come here to be lavished with gifts. I came here to spend Christmas with you. So come back to me. Please."

With a heavy, shuddering sigh, he nodded and accepted the box that Katniss was pressing upon him. "Thank you," he said. "They look beautiful," he said, carefully unsticking the sellotape at one end.

"You'll have to thank Prim for that," she said with a smile. "I could never make presents look so good."

"Thanks, Prim," he said, carefully unsticking the other end of the parcel, then running his finger under the edge of the paper, removing the whole sheet without a single rip or tear. "Oh Katniss," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he looked at the box. A large, cardboard shoebox with 'Vegetarian Shoes, Brighton' printed in stark, bold letters across the top. He carefully lifted the lid from the top of the box. A pristine pair of 10-hole Para boots. He'd wanted a pair of these for years, but at a hundred quid a pair, he'd never been able to afford them. "You shouldn't have done this," he said, taking one of the boots out from the box and admiring it.

"Shut up. You needed new shoes. You can't go around in winter in those thin little canvas things. It's completely impractical."

"Thank you." He pulled her into a tight embrace. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, angel. Open this one next," she said, passing him another similar-sized box. Like before, he carefully unpicked the sellotape instead of ripping the paper apart. "This is as much for me as it is for you," she confessed. "Probably more so."

He couldn't help but laugh as he opened the present: a complete set of the hardback editions of Harry Potter.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume that you still haven't taken my advice and read these?"

"You've assumed correctly."

"Well, now you can make a start on them."

"Maybe you could read them to me as bedtime stories."

"If that's what it takes, then fine."

He smiled momentarily as turned the box set over in his hands, before he experienced yet another sinking sensation. Seven hardback books didn't exactly come cheaply. He was just about to say something, but Katniss seemingly sensed the words that were about to come from him and cut him off.

"If you're going to mention money, you can stop. And besides, I'll get just as much pleasure from them."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "If it's really for you, I don't need to feel as bad." For a moment, he worried at his bottom lip before he spoke again. "Do you want to open one of yours next?" he asked her.

"Sure."

He looked between the two gifts he'd got for her and handed her the larger of the two. "Sorry if it's a bit shit."

She took the neatly wrapped parcel from him and ripped open the end, tearing the paper away and stared at the book in her hands. At first she looked a little confused then her mouth dropped in amazement. The ridiculously long title of the book was: Katniss & Peeta's Adventures Through the Wardrobe of the Chocolate Factory Where The Wild Lord of the Rings met The Wonderful Big Friendly Cat in the Hat at the Centre of the Earth.

He could feel his face burning bright red as she began to flick through the book. "I hope you don't think it's a bit egotistical."

Each page was drawn in a different but very distinct style. Some pages featured two or more panels, some pages were just a single, detailed drawing, but all featured both of them in the midst of an adventure. He had tried to emulate as many famous artists and illustrators as possible.

"When…? How…?" Katniss stuttered as she flicked through.

"I got the idea that day we spent in the park, at yours," he confessed. "Where you had me drawing us as cartoon characters, and you told me I should set up an exhibition. I mean, I couldn't do anything as ambitious as that but you got me thinking. And I've been working on this pretty much ever since. Whenever I had a few minutes to myself. Is it ok?"

"Peeta, it's incredible," she responded, a smile forming over her lips as she studied each drawing in depth. "How did you get this made into a proper book?"

"That was the easy bit," he chuckled. "I found a website where you submit all the pages, and they print it and bind it for you. Are you sure it's ok?"

"Yes, Peeta," she said, getting slightly exasperated. "It's perfect. Just perfect."

"Open the other one," he grinned. He handed the remaining parcel to her, and she ripped the paper off in seconds. She opened the box to show a small, silver locket hung on a simple chain. "Oh, Peeta…." she spoke in a hushed voice. "This is beautiful."

"You like it?" he timidly asked her. "I'm sorry it's not much…."

"Of course I like it, it's gorgeous. Is there anything inside?" She pressed the little catch that opened the locket, and gasped at what she saw. In miniature, Peeta had painted the view from the honeysuckle arch down his garden, towards her favourite trees. A few dandelions were visible in the foreground, and the rose-tinted and orange sky showed that he had chosen to paint the scene at sunset.

"I thought you'd like to always have a piece of the countryside with you. So when you're home and surrounded by grey buildings, you'll always be able to see trees."

Her fingers delicately traced over the tiny painting. "It's me who should be embarrassed about the presents I've got you," she said as she reached behind her own neck to fasten the locket in place. "This is so unbelievably thoughtful. You're such an angel."

"Don't be daft," he told her, a pink flush creeping across his cheeks.

"I mean it. I wasn't expecting anything so sweet. Here," she said, pushing another present towards him. "Open the rest of yours, but don't expect anything as personal as what you got me."

On top of the boots and the Potter box set, she'd also bought him three new shirts, a Walking Dead graphic novel, a cookbook called The Veganomicon and a set of his favourite Lush soaps.

Despite her telling him not to, he still felt abashed at the amount of money she had spent on him and hoped he could make it up to her with dinner. That, at least, was something he was always confident with.

And his confidence wasn't misplaced. When dinner was served, she ate with gusto, making noises that were almost sexual with each and every bite. He couldn't tear his eyes from her and couldn't help grinning as she piled her plate high with second helpings of everything.

"What?" she said thickly through a mouthful of pie, as she noticed Peeta watching her.

"Nothing," he smiled as he picked up his own fork once again. "I just love watching you enjoy food, that's all."

"You calling me fat?" she winked at him.

"Gargantuan," he replied, rolling his eyes and pouring them both more wine. "Although you should save some room for dessert."

"I thought you said it was crème brûlée."

"It is."

She waved her hand dismissively. "That's essentially custard. And custard is essentially a drink. I don't need to save room for it."

"Suit yourself. All the more for me if you can't finish it."

"That sounds like a challenge to me," she laughed, shovelling one last mouthful in, and washing it down with a large glug of wine. "Come on, bring it on! I bet you I'll manage the lot."

"As you wish."

It didn't take long for Peeta to caramelise the tops of the crème brûlées using a culinary torch, even though Katniss insisted on helping him. And, true to her word, she managed to finish every last mouthful before sitting back contentedly.

"I may have made a mistake," she said, rubbing her stomach and slowly sipping at her wine.

"How so?" he asked her.

"I just wasn't planning on being this full right now. You see, I almost forgot," she grinned as she set her wine glass back down on the table and leaned in towards him. "I have one last present for you."

"Katniss— " he began, beyond mortified that her generosity still hadn't ceased.

"Shhh. You'll love this one, I promise. You'll have to unwrap it just as delicately as you did the others."

A heartfelt sigh escaped his lips. "You're too good to me," he said. "I don't know what I've done to deserve you."

"Stop it. Do you want it?"

"Sure. Where is it?"

Instead of producing a gift, she straddled his lap and placed his hands on the buttons of her shirt. "Here."

He raised his eyebrows, but managed to maintain a cool exterior, although internally his heart was racing. "Interesting wrapping paper," he said as he slowly undid each button. "Really beautifully packaged."

"Thank you," she replied, as he gently pushed the material of her shirt away from her shoulders and down her slender arms, exposing her lace bra. He was very happy to see that she was wearing his favourite set; the muted orange of the lace contrasted so perfectly with her olive complexion.

His fingers ran down one of the straps and along the lace edging that covered one of her breasts. "Is this part of the wrapping paper too?" he asked her.

"That's up to you," she responded, draping her arms around his shoulders and playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"Well, this bit of wrapping here definitely needs to come off," he said as he undid the button on her jeans and slowly lowered the zip. He pushed her off his lap for just a moment so that he could remove her jeans, pulling her back on to him the moment she was wearing nothing but her underwear. "This is definitely my favourite present," he said, his voice low and husky, as he ran his lips along the slope of her neck and shoulders. One hand cupped the front of her breast and gently massaged the supple mound of flesh, pulling the thin scrap of lace down to reveal her dusky nipple underneath. He gently pinched the hardened nub of flesh between his thumb and forefinger, and as he did so, she pressed her lips into his.

After sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, she gently dragged her teeth along the sensitive flesh before resting her forehead against his. Panting slightly as she tried to catch her breath, she said, "Can I unwrap my present too?"

He nodded as she sat up straight and hooked her fingers underneath his jumper and t-shirt, pulling them both up and over his head in one go. He shivered slightly as the cool air struck, pulling her body back to his to share her warmth.

"I haven't finished unwrapping it yet," she giggled, squirming in his embrace.

"Sorry," he said, nuzzling into her neck. "I just wanted to enjoy my present a little."

"Well, I want to enjoy mine too."

Deftly she ducked out of his arms and made quick work of stripping him of his remaining clothes. As she reached behind her back to undo her bra, Peeta grabbed her wrists and said, "Wait. Leave them on. Please?"

A shy smile spread across her lips as she straddled him once again. His erection pressed against the thin lace of her underwear, and he could feel the heat of her core through the scrap of material. Heart racing, his fingers lightly brushed over the edge of the lace covering her hips, tracing it down to her inner thighs. She gasped as she grasped hold of his shoulders and arched her back, giving him the perfect chance to pull her panties to one side and run his thumb over her sensitive flesh. "Yes…" she whispered as his thumb grazed back and forth over her. He withdrew his hand just for a moment, causing Katniss to whimper in protest, before he sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva. Looking her in the eyes, he then pushed his fingers into her slightly resisting heat. She was always so tight, and he found himself groaning in anticipation of feeling that tight heat surrounding him. Neither one of them broke eye contact as he pushed deeper into her, and she began rocking her hips in a steady motion, rubbing the hood of her clit against his palm. "Peeta…" His name fell from her lips over and over again in a whispered mantra as she rocked her hips and faster. Peeta reached behind her head and pulled her to his waiting lips before she pulled away from him and said, "I can't wait another moment. Now, Peeta. Now."

With Peeta still holding the underneath of her orange lace panties to the side, Katniss lowered herself on to him, both of them clutching on to the other as if they were a tether to life itself. At that moment the wind outside picked up and howled, rattling the windowpanes. Both Katniss and Peeta looked up at the noise. The snow was still coming down thick and fast and had settled against the window in thick drifts. "I think we might get snowed in," Peeta commented.

"As long as you're there to keep me warm, I don't care," said Katniss as she ducked her head towards him, pressing her lips down the strong lines of his neck. His eyes fluttered closed as she caressed his back, while his hands traced the curve of her waist, holding her steady as he rolled his hips up to meet her.

"This has definitely been the best Christmas I've had," he said, his voice low and slightly breathless as his fingertips found their way to pulling the material of Katniss' bra to one side once again.

"Me too," she replied, gasping slightly as Peeta rolled her hardened nipple between his fingers.

"And this is my favourite present," he chuckled, grasping her shoulders and pulling her down further on to him. Katniss gasped as his cock filled her, and as the coarse, dark blonde hair gently scratched her sensitive flesh she gripped on to him even tighter, writhing above him. "Oh, Katniss," he moaned, as her wanton movements edged him closer. Her mouth found his, sucking his bottom lip in and nibbling along the flesh, before her tongue invaded his mouth and they fought a furious tango, each desperate to dominate the other's kiss.

Within seconds, an unbearable pressure had built up within him; he tried to hold back, not wanting this to be over so soon, but his body took over, and as he thrust upwards into her hard and fast, that pressure was replaced with a pleasure so intense that his hold on Katniss became almost painful. He thrust several more times into her with shuddering movements before his face fell against her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, a feeling of shame washing over him. "I'm so sorry," he said between gasps.

"For what?" she said, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"You made me come too soon," he said, feeling a hot flush creeping over his cheeks. "I'm not good enough."

"Oh, shush."

"But—"

"No buts. You'd know if you weren't satisfying me."

"Katniss—"

"Peeta, stop. Or I'll begin to think that you're determined to find something wrong with today just to prove some ridiculous and unnecessary point." She slowly climbed off of him and readjusted her underwear as she did so, and Peeta felt a sickening, clawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Was she right? Was he, even unintentionally, trying to sabotage his own happiness today? He watched her pick up her discarded clothing, and as she began to redress herself he crossed his arms over his chest, clutching himself. As she pulled her jeans back up, she caught his eye. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked him.

Without realising he was doing it, he found himself nodding and grabbing his own clothes, throwing them on as quickly as he could.

"Can we have some of this?" Katniss asked, indicating the large pan of mulled wine sitting on the stovetop. He nodded and moved to stand in front of the stove but Katniss blocked his way. "Go sit down, I think I can just about handle heating this up."

In silence, he trudged through to his living room and collapsed on to his couch, kicking his feet up over the armrest and staring up at the ceiling. Within seconds, Zippy had jumped up and landed on his stomach, and began to knead him over and over, purring loudly all the time. He settled down and curled into a tight ball on Peeta's chest just as Katniss came through from the kitchen, carrying two steaming mugs of wine. She set one down on the floor next to him, then said, "Scoot up," indicating that she wanted to sit down with him. He lifted his legs without disturbing Zippy, and as soon as Katniss sat down beside him, he stretched his legs back out over her lap. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Katniss sipping at her mug of wine and Peeta absent-mindedly stroking Zippy, before Katniss spoke up. "What's going on up there, Peeta?"

He couldn't look at her, and he struggled to form a coherent thought. "I told you," he said eventually. "I'm not good at this time of year."

"I know you said that," she replied. "Is it because of your accident? Because of Jenn?"

He nodded. "I guess they're both part of it."

"Part of it? What else is there?"

"I dunno, Katniss, it's not important," he replied, already feeling an oppressive heat settle over him, suddenly unsure if he really wanted to talk.

"Tell me."

"You'll probably read way more into it than you need to."

"Try me," she said.

He took a deep breath and sat up, dislodging Zippy in the process, so that he could pick up the still-hot mug of mulled wine and take a calming sip. "I remember Christmas one year when I was little. Mum and Dad were arguing. I don't know what about, but I remember it was worse than I'd ever heard them argue. A couple of days later, Mum was gone." He shrugged and drank some more wine.

"Your mum left at Christmas?"

He nodded, staring into the depths of the deep sanguine liquid. "Dad too." He could hear Katniss' sharp intake of breath as she processed the information. "He died about a week before Christmas Day."

"And you fell out with your brothers not long after that?"

He nodded once again, not wanting to make eye contact with her. "I told you that you'd read too much into it."

"I'm hardly reading too much into it, Peeta," she snorted. "It pretty much explains everything." She was absently stroking and squeezing his thighs. "So has it always been like this?"

He paused before answering thoughtfully. "No. I mean, I coped but…. It got worse, when…" Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he looked at the lower half of his left leg, noticing that Katniss own gaze had fallen there too.

"Did it hurt?" she blurted out, and Peeta couldn't help but laugh at the innocence of her question.

"Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, it hurt. Imagine half a tonne of horse weight concentrated in a single hoof landing on you. It doesn't feel pleasant." What memories he had of that day swam sickeningly in front of his vision for a moment. Much of the incident had been forgotten, and he'd filled in the blanks with what his friends had told him. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain he'd been left in as a result. That was what had hurt the most. And that had been the nail in the coffin as far as Christmas was concerned. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I shouldn't have involved you in this—" he looked around, desperately searching for the right word. "—this train wreck of a holiday."

"It's not a train wreck," she said soothingly. "And…. Please don't take this the wrong way… but have you ever thought of talking to someone?"

"So they can tell me that all my neuroses stem from abandonment issues? I don't need some fucking quack telling me what I already know."

"Peeta, I just want you to be happy. Whatever it takes."

"And I am, generally. Being near you helps." He flashed her a half smile as he sipped at his mulled wine, pulling a face at how cool it was rapidly becoming.

"Promise me something, Peeta," she said, and her voice was so full of concern that he couldn't help but agree before she even told him what she wanted of him. "Promise me that if things start to seem dark that you'll talk to me. I don't care if that means that you have to call me at four in the morning, if you need to do it, you call me."

"Katniss," he said, and he couldn't help but laugh. "You're talking like I'm gonna top myself."

"Don't laugh at me worrying, ok? When you spoke to Jenn, I overheard you saying that in the past you'd had... dark thoughts, and I can't deal with that."

"That was years ago, Katniss."

"Did you ever act on them?"

"No. Not really."

"Not really? What's that supposed to mean."

"I mean, I thought about it. I got really drunk once and lined up a load of pills. But I don't know if I was going to take them or not. I don't think I would have done. Finn had a spare key at the time, and he found me and decked me one so I never got the chance."

She was silent for a moment then spoke in a tremulous voice, "After my dad died, my mum had those thoughts too. I was fourteen when I came home from school and found mum slumped over the kitchen table with an empty box of paracetamol and a bottle of vodka smashed on the floor beside her."

"Jesus," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm not surprised Finn hit you. It's the worst thing in the world, finding someone you care about in that way. So please, promise me you'd call."

"Katniss, I'm not—"

"Just… just promise me."

"Ok, ok, I promise!" He downed the remainder of his almost cold wine. "And I really am sorry if this Christmas hasn't been what you hoped it would."

"Peeta, I've been with you. That alone made it perfect. You know I love you?"

He nodded, but couldn't look at her. "I love you, too."

"And is being with me enough for you?"

"Of course it is."

"Then know that it's enough for me too."

At long last, he looked up into her eyes, and she seemed so sincere that his heart melted. "Thanks. For, y'know, putting up with me. Come here?" He held his arms out to her, releasing her from under his legs so that she could lie down beside him. "So, what would you usually do on a Christmas evening like this?"

"Well, I wouldn't usually be snuggled down with the man I love," she responded. "But you can't beat getting under a warm blanket and watching a film."

"Sounds perfect," he smiled, holding on to her even tighter. "Can we just start today again from now? I'd really like that."

"If it makes you happy, my angel, then sure."

"It would." He kissed the top of her head. "It really would. Merry Christmas, Katniss."

Their lips found each other, a gentle ghosting kiss that sent pleasurable shivers down his spine. A sparkle lit up her grey eyes as she smiled and said, "Merry Christmas to you too, my angel."