Chapter 15

The Move

…

Sitting there on the kitchen floor beside Peeta's feet, I reach up to tug on his sweatpants.

"What's up," he asks looking down at me.

"Do you have any boxes at the bakery or your place I could use?"

He shakes his head no slowly, "There some creates behind the bakery if that'll works."

"That'll work," I nod, tearing another bite size piece from the pancake I was eating, popping a piece in my mouth. So as I turn back to eating, I feel Peeta's eyes staring down at me. Then after a minute, he just does not stands there and stare, but shuts off the stoves burner to sit down beside me.

Now sitting beside me and cautiously staring at me, he clears his throat asking, "Why do you need boxes, crates anyway?"

I swallow the food I have in my mouth at the moment before taking the plate of pancakes and placing it on the kitchen counter above my head. "To pack up my stuff."

He looks to me confused. "Where you going?"

"Thought I was moving in with you."

At this Peeta freezes as a broad smile grows across his lips.

"Seriously," he asks.

"Mh hmm," I nod, "I told you I like your place. It's homey and… right. Plus, living above a bar won't be any good."

Giving me a smile, he leans over giving me a kiss, "Love you."

…

"This is ridiculous." Rye calls somewhere across my apartment.

"Shut up Rye," I call back, "You signed up for this."

Rye grunts, making some nonsense noise that is impossible to comprehend. Shaking my head, I pack the last of my belongings and the few of Peeta's from my bedroom into the box. Then I fold over the flaps and mark it "bedroom." Taking one last look around the room, there are a few things that remain, but things I don't need. Carrying the box from the room and down the hall, I set it beside the few other boxes that are already packed. Since a few days ago when I had told Peeta I would move in with him, we have been slowly bringing things over to his place. Most of my stuff was already there and now that everything that remained was some bedding and such that I wanted to bring over. Yet most of the stuff was going to stay, all the office supplies and whatnot, the couch and television, most of the kitchenware, and few things that remained in the bedroom. We figured we wouldn't rent out the place or anything. Rye and I have been talking about expanding the bar since it opens. So this morning while helping Peeta and I pack up some things he shared the idea about moving kitchen and storage room up into the apartment and which would then expand the bar.

I shrug my shoulders. All I can say for now that I'll consider it. It's a good idea and maybe over the winter we'll go through with it, but for now with the summer rush and having this whole wedding thing going on, I have no time. Shaking the thought from my head, I walk through the apartment and into the kitchen. Peeta was clearing out the cabinets of food while Rye sat on the counter, drinking a beer.

"Everything," I ask and he nods his head.

"Everything," he confirms, "Beer?"

I nod my head and out of the six pack beside him, Rye hands me a beer. Twisting off the lid, I hop up on the counter beside him. We sit there in silence, sipping our beers. Its finally after a few minutes, Peeta closes the box he had been packing food into.

"Good," I ask him. He smiles, walking over to me. Then leaning against my knees, he brings his lips to mine. The kiss is slow and loving. It is as he bites down on my bottom lip that I hear Rye clearing his throat.

"Jesus Christ, I'm right here."

Letting out a laugh I pull away from Peeta, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. As he laughs along with me, pulling me off the counter. "If you help me put the boxes in the back of the truck, you can leave." He says to Rye who I hear hop off the counter, the case of beer in hands as he heads for the hall. When Rye is gone, Peeta pulls me from the crook of this neck.

"We were um, interrupted back there." I laugh, giving him a small, lingering kiss.

…

The place is done, complete, finished. Peeta and I are officially living together. We had successfully finished unpacking all my stuff in his apartment. Well, it's now our stuff and our apartment. Peeta and I are living together. We share everything. We took one fucking big step forward in life. Taking a deep breath I look around the apartment now, this is us, Peeta and I.

In the main hall when you walk in, there is the old, wooden coat hanger from my place and the small end table Peeta always had there with a bowl of knick-knacks along with a picture of us a few winters ago. Then down into the living room and kitchen area, there is the rug from my bedroom under the coffee table and the few pillows along with my green blanket over the arm of Peeta's worn couch. Our movies and CDs and books are mixed together on the bookshelf beside the computer; and throughout the room there are scattered pictures on tables and walls that belong to both of us. In the kitchen, my mixed-matched utensils and plates are mixed in with Peeta's official, stainless steel kitchenware. On the refrigerator is our calendar and random notes and snap shots from those photo booths we have collected over the years. His radio still sits on the snack counter beside the goldfish Rye had left the other day when helping us move. When we called later after finding the fish he called it a "house warming gift."

Out the kitchen and back in to the hall, we lined the walls with pictures and painting Peeta had painted and taken. It took a lot of convincing, but he finally gave in to displaying some of his works. Then up the wooden stairs, the room is just like the kitchen and living room, it all one room… kind of. The master bedroom, the only bed, is the whole third floor along with the connected master bathroom, only bathroom in the place. The walls are a scarlet red and the floors are wooden. The bed is covered in a mixture of Peeta and mine bedding sets. The pillows are covered in striped, sunset orange casings which match the light, orange sheets on the bed under the black and red stitched quilt that use to cover my bed at Haymitch's. In the closet, our cloths are mixed together which we'll probably have to fix as of this morning, Peeta grabbed a pair of my jeans by mistake which became quite the show when he tried putting them on.

Then in the bathroom, the light green towels Peeta had bought me when I moved into the flat above the bar hung on the rack and our toothbrushes sat together in the blue glass cup on the sink counter. Our shampoos and soaps were beside each other on the shower's shelf, too. Everything was how we wanted it. It may not look fashionable or whatever, but it was ours. The place was ours. This was us and I liked it. I was a little afraid, but I like this sort of fear. This was Peeta and I. It was scary, but that didn't matter, I loved Peeta and that's all that mattered to me. This was us. Peeta and I together. Always.