A/N: Hey, guys! Not much time to write A/Ns this morning, so I'll get right down to it! Thank you so much (again) for the reviews! :)
Quote of the day comes from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
"It's beautiful isn't it, Harry? The moon." - Ron
Random Disclaimer: I do not own CF, though I do own a rather fantastic fedora; "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"; "Why is the rum always gone?"; "Why so serious?"; "I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!"; "I am Asneeze, father of Achoo."; "Dobby did not mean to kill . . . only to maim . . . or seriously injure."; "My precious!"; "Puny god"; "So that's what it feels like"; "Yeah, I can fly."; "There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that."; "Your skin is pale white, you dress fashionably, and you abstain from sex. . . I know what you are . . . Jonas brother"; "Snakes. I hate snakes."; "When you marooned me on that god forsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."; "It's like Christmas, but with more . . . me."; "It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."; "It's beautiful isn't it, Harry? The moon."
Chapter 17
At the end of the month, my mother deems me well enough to put my full weight on my knee. It's stiff from disuse and twinges a little bit, but other than that I feel fairly okay. I'm anxious to go outside, ready to be anywhere but my bedroom. Staring at the same four walls for weeks will drive anyone insane. Maya is with me, trotting faithfully by my side as we step out onto the front porch, and I can't help but smile at the feeling of the sun on my face.
I go into the bakery, leaving Maya by the door, and I smile when I see Peeta behind the counter. He left early this morning, saying that he had something important to do. Of course, when I asked what was so important, he told me, wearing a cheeky smile, that it was a secret. He'd kissed me and left before I could scowl at his reply.
"How's it feel to walk around?" Peeta asks as he wipes his hands on a towel before throwing it over his shoulder.
"Fantastic," I reply as I sidle up to the counter, leaning toward him. "But I admit that I miss you carrying me around everywhere."
"Me too," Peeta admits. He looks like he's about to say more before Rye interrupts him.
"Eh, don't mind him sweetcheeks, he was just happy to show off his muscles for you," he says, waggling his eyebrows comically.
"It's not showing off," Peeta defends, looking at me. "You're light as a feather."
"Always the right thing to say to a woman," Chris says as he enters the bakery, and both Rye and Peeta glare at him.
"You're late."
"Where have you been?"
Chris looks at me. "See what I have to deal with?" he asks. "Pity me."
"Oh, working all day with Rye?" I grin. "Who wouldn't?"
"Hey, what about Wonder Boy over there?" Rye complains, tossing his head in Peeta's direction. "Don't play favorites. It's not nice."
"But he is my favorite," I say and Peeta grins triumphantly.
"But why?" Rye whines. "I am just as good looking."
I snort. "I can't say I agree."
"Oh, that's cold." Rye shakes his head, feigning hurt and rejection. "I'm leaving. You'll miss me."
"Not likely," I retort. "Peace and quiet would be a lovely thing to experience."
Rye grins. "See you later, sweetcheeks!" he calls before going back to the ovens.
Chris sighs, shaking his head. "Sometimes I worry about him," he says.
Peeta laughs. "Only sometimes?"
"All the time." Chris looks at me and then Peeta. "So are you going to get out of here or what? I've got you covered."
"You sure?" Peeta asks hesitantly, though he casts a hopeful glance at me. "I can stay . . ."
"Am I going to have to throw you out the door?" Chris interrupts with a smile. "Be a kid once and a while, if it's not too much trouble."
Peeta grins, tossing the dish towel onto the counter and untying his apron. "Thanks Chris," he says, giving his older brother a good-natured slap on the shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah," Chris waves him off. "Go on. Get out of here."
Peeta and I reach for each other's hands at the same time, and he smiles at me before leading me out the door. Maya immediately hops up and begins to follow us. "So," Peeta says. "I have the day off. What do you want to do?"
"Hmm," I say. "Ideally, I'd venture off . . ." My words fade as I think of the woods that are barred to me now.
"We can go to the Meadow," Peeta suggests. "I want to build a snowman."
"You're kidding."
"Absolutely not."
"How old are you again?"
"Seventeen." Peeta flashes me his most charming grin. The one that shows his dimples and makes his eyes glint with that extra sparkle. I give in, unable to resist. After all, winter is coming to a close so this is probably the last chance he'll have to make a snowman.
"Fine," I huff and Peeta whoops in victory, only adding credence to my theory that boys will always be boys.
Together, we walk to the Meadow. There are remains of snowball fights and some snowmen, the children of the Seam having been here before us. However, they're in school so we have the entire Meadow to ourselves. "Okay," Peeta rubs his gloved hands together. "We need a plan."
"Why do you always need a plan?"
"Because I'm a planning kind of guy," he retorts without missing a beat.
My eyes narrow. "You're in an awfully good mood today," I say, sounding slightly suspicious.
"Because today is a great day," Peeta says, wrapping his arms around me. "You're free from medical house arrest. I've got you all to myself for the first time in a month. Your mother isn't glaring at me in warning whenever I enter your bedroom. And I'm about to build a snowman. It's a damn good day."
I laugh. "Okay then," I say. "What is the plan for building the snowman?"
Peeta's eyes gleam with a childish excitement. "I want to build a really big one. At least as tall as me."
"We better get started then."
And we do. I haven't made many snowmen in my life. In fact, the last snowman I made was with my father, and Prim was so little that we had to stop halfway through because she was getting too cold. I quickly remember how tedious snowman building is, at least in the beginning. I make a big snowball like I remember my father showing me, and then I begin the tiresome process of rolling it around on the ground, watching it slowly grow in size as it picks up layer after layer of snow. After about twenty minutes, I remember why it was so fun.
My snowball, which started out only a little bigger than my fist, is now taller than my knees, and it's getting too heavy for me to roll by myself, causing me to slip as I lose traction. Before I know it, I'm giggly with the effort it is taking to roll the humongous snowball, and Peeta abandons his behemoth snowball to help me with mine. He's laughing at my struggles as he helps me roll the snowball, the effort seeming disgustingly easy for him. "I hate you," I say, though the insult doesn't really have much weight because I'm still giggling. "Why do you have to be so strong?"
"I've got to keep you in love with me somehow," Peeta retorts and I snort.
"Yes," I agree. "Because I only want you for your body."
"Hence its pristine condition."
Both of us laugh, and after another minute or so, Peeta declares that my snowball is big enough. We roll it toward the one he was working on before he came to help me, and I gawk at its size. It comes up to my hip. I recognize a problem though. I look at my snowball. "How are we going to stack them?" I ask. "This thing weighs a ton."
"No it doesn't," Peeta waves me off before bending down and picking up the gigantic snowball at my feet and stacking it on top of the even bigger gigantic snowball.
Peeta huffs as he moves away, the only sign of exertion after lifting what must have been over a hundred pounds. I look at him. "You amaze me," I say, not only referring to his strength, but just him in general.
"Eh," Peeta waves me off, pulling me into his arms. "I don't hold a candle to you," he says before capturing my lips in a sweet kiss.
However, after a few seconds, the kiss goes from sweet to passionate. My wrap my arms around his neck, pressing us closer together. There's hardly any space between us and Peeta is holding me so tightly to him, that I can feel the pressure of his hands on my hips through the thick material of my jacket. We continue to kiss and my mind is blissfully blank, only able to comprehend that Peeta is kissing me and that I like it. A lot.
When we finally pull away, gasping for air and breathing hard, I feel that tension between us, the one that makes my stomach clench in anticipation and twist in nerves at the same time. I want to go further. Kissing is not enough, even the other, more intimate things we do is not enough for me anymore. Peeta must see something in my eyes because his darken ever so slightly. I think we could have probably stared at each other like that for hours if Maya hadn't chosen at that time to literally nudge us apart, as if she was our chaperone.
"She's an attention hog," Peeta mutters, looking down at her balefully.
Thankful that the tension has broken between us, at least for a moment, I carefully lower myself to one knee so that it's easier to pet her. "I'm finishing the snowman," Peeta says.
"I'll help you in a minute," I tell him, giving Maya the attention that she deserves, though admittedly we had a lot of bonding time over the past month. I didn't let her stay cooped up inside with me though. No need to make her suffer. Peeta let her out in the mornings and she'd typically be scratching at the door later that afternoon, ready to curl up at my feet by the fire.
Peeta and I finish the snowman within the hour, and like Peeta wished, it's just as tall as he is. We both stand back and admire our work. Peeta throws an arm around my shoulders. "We're good," he says with satisfaction.
"This thing is a monster," I say. "What if it falls over?"
"It will not do such a thing," Peeta denies adamantly. "Frosty wouldn't do that to me."
I raise my eyebrows. "Frosty? You named it?"
"Oh, come on." Peeta looks at me in disbelief. "Frosty the Snowman? Tell me you've heard of Frosty."
I stare at him blankly.
Peeta is in denial. "Come on, think about it," he encourages, and then he starts to sing. "Frosty, the snowman was a jolly happy soul. With a corncob pipe and a button nose and two eyes made out of coal?"
I'm laughing. Mainly because Peeta couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but it's so cute I can't help but smile. "Not ringing a bell."
Peeta stares at me, placing a hand on each of my shoulders. "Don't worry, Katniss," he says, somehow able to look and sound serious. "I will teach you every verse."
"Oh, I believe you," I say with a smile. "But first, I need to teach you something."
"What?"
In a lightning quick move that he isn't expecting, I smear a snowball in his face. I'd surreptitiously gathered it while he'd been adding the head to the snowman. Peeta's face is priceless. His eyes are closed, his mouth set in a funny grimace. Comically, he spits out the snow that got into his mouth, and finally opens his eyes, blinking against the snow that is clinging to his impossibly long, blonde eyelashes.
"You, my love, have just started a war," he says, his eyes glinting with mischief.
I smile innocently at him. "Too bad you're going to lose."
"We shall see. I warn you, I have two older brothers that taught me the art of the snowball fight," Peeta smirks.
"Oh yeah?" I tease, stepping closer to him, my lips at his ear. "Then try to catch me."
I shove him away from me, laughing as he stumbles, only just managing to catch himself and keep from falling.
Thus, begins the most epic snowball fight ever.
I have won the Hunger Games, the ultimate test of endurance, strength, and cunning—not to mention a whole lot of luck. You would think that I would be prepared for the rigors of a simple snowball fight. Oh, how wrong I was. Peeta was not lying when he said he knew the art of the snowball fight. Within minutes, he has a fort made, and no matter how many insults of cowardice that I yell at him, he refuses to leave his little sanctuary.
This prompts me to have to be sneaky. I scurry from place to place, trying to sneak up on him. I'm able to lob a snowball that hits him right in the back of the head. We continue this little game of hide and seek until Peeta comes out, his hands held high in surrender.
Thinking that I've won, I foolishly sidle up to him, a smug smile on my face. Which he promptly removes when he lunges forward, sweeps me off my feet, and makes us both fall back into the snow. Though he makes sure that I land on top of him, he quickly rolls so that he's pinned me to the ground—where he immediately smears my face with snow.
I know that I can't escape his hold. Not outright anyway, but I have a plan. The only reason it will work is because it's Peeta and for some reason he loves me. So when I lean up and capture his lips in a heated kiss that catches him completely off guard, it's safe to say that his hold relaxes just a little bit.
I promptly flip us over, give him one last peck, and then leap off him, running toward the opposite end of the Meadow. "That's cheating!" Peeta calls after me.
Laughing, I turn around. "No it's not!"
This prompts an all-out free for all. Snow flies in all directions. The once pristine looking Meadow, blanketed in a relatively smooth coat of snow, is basically trampled ruins. Deep trenches where you can almost see the grass cut through the fine white powder. Huge mounds of snow from hastily constructed forts make the ground uneven. Then, of course, there's Frosty, dominating the entire scene. Like he conquered it all.
I don't know for how long Peeta and I toss snow at each other, but when he finally manages to tackle me to the ground (gently of course), we both lay there, breathing hard. My head lands heavily on his chest. "I still say I won," I say after a minute and Peeta laughs.
"Fine," he says, relenting. "You win."
"I do love it when I win," I say smugly, propping myself up so I can see his face. "Especially at your expense."
"Don't I know it."
"At least you admit defeat gracefully," I can't help but tease.
"I don't know if I really lost," Peeta says looking at me with a playful smirk that I rarely get to see. "You ended up on top of me. That's a win."
I don't have time to give an indignant reply before he's kissing me, and I forget whatever witty retort I had. We break away, finally relenting to our mutual need for oxygen, and Peeta sighs contentedly. We continue to lie in the snow, but now that we're not running around the cold is beginning to get to me. Just when I'm about to say something, Peeta speaks. "I don't know about you, but I can't feel my toes."
I laugh. "Sitting in front of a fire would be nice."
Peeta and I get to our feet, and I laugh when he shakes out his hair, melted snow flying everywhere. We begin walking back toward town, and I look over my shoulder. "Come on, Maya!" I call, causing her head to pop up. During the snowball fight, she'd tried chasing us around, but eventually she just went chasing after snowballs that missed their mark.
She quickly trots up next to us, and together, the three of us make our way back through town. When we pass the bakery, I see Chris looking out the window. He sees us and then laughs, giving us a wave before returning to work.
When we get to Peeta's house, trudging up the stairs to his bedroom, I'm shivering. All the snow that was clinging to me has melted, and I'm soaked to the bone. I begin pulling off clothes and tossing them onto the floor. It's a testament to how cold Peeta is that he doesn't comment at all about my state of undress, or the fact that he doesn't 'make a move.' Once I'm in dry, warm clothes, I feel a lot better. I take my hair out of its braid, hoping that it will dry quicker if it's hanging loose.
Peeta went downstairs a few minutes ago, presumably to start a fire. And when I walk into the living room, I find that he's already coaxed a fire to life and it's slowly building. He's laid out a thick blanket in front of the fireplace, a corner of which is already occupied by Maya. Peeta is sitting in the middle, and he smiles when he sees me. He pulls me down to him, and I sit between his legs. Instantly his arms are around me and I can't help but smile, even if I still can't feel my toes.
"That was fun," I say after a while.
Peeta sweeps my hair over my shoulder so that he can kiss my neck. "Most fun I've had in a while," he admits. "What with everything going on."
His statement is just a mere reference to everything that seems to have been going horribly wrong for us. President Snow and his threats. The uprisings. The wedding. And then there's the upcoming Quarter Quell, our first year as mentors, that goes unspoken between us.
"Yeah," I agree before glancing up at the clock on the wall. It's late afternoon. I hadn't realized just how much time we'd spent in the snow, and I haven't eaten since this morning. "You hungry?"
Peeta chuckles, but I detect a hint of nervousness in his voice. Curious, I glance over my shoulder to look at him, but he's not looking at me. He's turned away from me, reaching back behind him to grab a plate I hadn't noticed off the coffee table. It's a single loaf of bread, seemingly insignificant—only it's not. At all.
"Is that . . ." I trail off as Peeta sets the plate of bread beside us.
"The same kind of bread I gave you that night in the rain?" Peeta finishes for me with a small smile. "Yeah."
"This is why you left so early this morning," I realize.
"Well, I couldn't have you coming into the kitchen," he says. "It would've ruined the surprise."
There's something that I'm missing, some piece of the puzzle that I don't have. "So why the surprise?"
Peeta looks nervous again, and I can't help but think he looks adorable. His eyes meet mine, looking hesitant, and yet hopeful. "Remember the day you twisted your knee?" he asks me. "And you told me why you went into the woods?"
The crate of wedding dresses. "Yeah."
"And remember when you said that you wanted our wedding to just be about us?" he continues. "That you wanted it to be our moment, and not something contrived by the Capitol?"
My heart has begun to race, my stomach twisting into knots. "And you said you could fix it," I say. My eyes settle on the bread, and then the fire. It all clicks. "You want to have a toasting?"
It's a marriage ritual that we have here in District 12. Most people don't really consider you married until you have a toasting, even if you have the slip of paper from the Justice Building saying that you're legally wed. But, really, what does a piece of paper matter?
A toasting is simple really. The bride and groom will each toast a piece of bread over the first fire they make in their home. Then, they'll feed the toasted bread to each other. It's as simple as that, and yet when I think of having a private toasting with Peeta, something that's just us, this simple ritual takes on a whole new meaning.
"Well . . ." Peeta's nervousness really begins to shine through, and I fight a smile. "I-If you want . . . I mean, we don't, um, have to, necessarily. I just, I thought—"
I can't help it. I laugh. A stammering Peeta is just too cute. I turn in his embrace to face him fully and place a sweet kiss on his lips. When I pull away, I'm smiling. "It's a brilliant idea," I tell him. "Let's toast some bread."
Peeta grins at me. "You were just going to let me keep stuttering, weren't you?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
He rolls his eyes, but nonetheless slices two pieces of bread. Cautiously, we each hold our pieces of bread over the fire until they're toasted. We look at each other, and for a moment we just stare. I can't believe that I'm at this point. Me. Katniss Everdeen. I'm about to technically, in a way, marry Peeta Mellark, my boy with the bread. In a single year, my world has been tossed upside down. And oddly enough, however wrong everything else is in my new life, Peeta is the one thing that has been irrevocably right. He convinced me that love was worth the risk. He's coaxed emotions that I didn't know I had to the surface and taught me to embrace them. This boy in front of me has changed my life so irreversibly that I know I'll never be able to go back to the way I was. And, thinking about it, I really don't want to be who I was. Because if was, then I wouldn't have this. I wouldn't have him.
Peeta Mellark.
I smile. He smiles. And it seems to break the trance we're in. I take a bite from his piece of bread and he takes a bite from mine. It doesn't last more than ten seconds, but in those ten seconds, I've gone from being Katniss Everdeen to Katniss Mellark.
It's actually making me kind of giddy.
Before I really know what I'm doing, I'm kissing him. My arms are around his neck, my hands tangled in his hair. Peeta is slightly surprised by my affectionate onslaught, but he quickly catches up to where I am. His hands begin tracing my every curve, and I can't help the sigh that escapes me. I feel his tongue trace my bottom lip, asking for entry, and I don't hesitate to open my mouth to him. For some reason, this feels like the most sensual kiss we've ever shared as our tongues begin a dance that both of us have perfected by now.
But it's not until I feel Peeta's hand slip under my shirt, his calloused fingers touching my bare skin, that the significance of this moment fully hits me. Peeta and I are married.
And it's our wedding night.
I freeze in Peeta's arms at this thought, and he breaks the kiss, looking up at me, his blue eyes darkened with desire. For me. It's our wedding night. I'm going to have sex with Peeta.
Oh my . . .
"What's wrong?" Peeta asks, his voice husky, causing my nerves to twist in anticipation and excitement.
"Um . . . " I try to think of how to say this. "Have you . . . though about, um, tonight?" I ask. "You know, because, um . . ." Why is this so difficult to say? Why am I so nervous? "It's our wedding night."
Realization dawns in Peeta's eyes. "Oh." He looks nervous, too. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?"
It's like the thought never occurred to him. "You seriously didn't think about this?"
Peeta raises his eyebrows. "Katniss, I think about making love to you all the time," he admits bluntly, though he's wearing a bright smile. I blush, burying my face into his neck, and he laughs. "I do." He's completely unashamed. "I just, um, didn't actually think about this . . . I was just focusing on the toasting. Not, uh, what would happen afterwards."
"That's very un-guy like of you," I tell him honestly.
"So sue me," Peeta replies. "I am not most guys."
I lift my head from the crook of his neck to look at him. "No," I agree, unable to keep from running a hand through his hair. "You are definitely not like most guys. You're better."
For once, it's Peeta's turn to blush, and I can't help but smile. "Do you want to, Katniss?" he asks quietly. "I'm fine with waiting. I don't want to do anything you'll regret."
"Peeta." His name escapes me in a whisper. "I could never regret making love with you."
I'm blushing profusely, but I don't care. The look in Peeta's eyes is worth all the embarrassment my admission caused me. His hands cradle my face. "I love you," he says softly, a shyness to his tone that I haven't heard in a while. "I really do."
"I know," I say with a smile. "I love you, too."
It's almost like a spell. Like a force is drawing us together, because our lips meet and I honestly don't remember leaning forward. I don't know how my hands end up in his hair, or how suddenly Peeta is on his feet, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he maneuvers us toward the bedroom. Peeta has to stop halfway up the stairs, and I assume it's because he can't concentrate enough to put one foot in front of the other.
He presses me into the wall, kissing me with an unrestrained passion that's making me see stars. I feel his fingertips playing with the hem of my sweater, and in the next second it's being pulled over my head, and tossed somewhere behind him. The cool air feels wonderful on my overheated skin.
We're moving again, and this time we make it to the hallway before Peeta has to stop again. Personally, I'm marveling at his strength and coordination, because I have no idea how he managed to navigate those stairs. However, there is one problem. I am shirtless and he is not.
I unwrap my legs from his waist, and Peeta's hands grip my hips as he sets me on my feet. My hands immediately snake under his shirt and I smile into our kiss when I feel his abdominals clench. I tug on the end of his shirt, and he breaks the kiss only long enough for him to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. My hands are instantly exploring the newly revealed skin, and I hear Peeta sigh before he claims my mouth once more.
By now, we've made it to the bedroom. Peeta walks me backwards until I feel the back of my knees hit the bed. I sit down, and slowly, Peeta and I make our way to the head of the bed, still kissing, until my hair fans out over a pillow. And suddenly, everything gets real. I'm really about to do this. We're really about to do this. Some mild panic must show in my eyes, because Peeta gives me a reassuring smile before he's kissing me again. It's sweet and slow and so incredibly loving. I relax almost instantly, and I'm wondering what I have to be nervous about. It's just Peeta; just me and Peeta.
It continues on like this. Slow, loving, and gentle. Clothes are shed, and Peeta seems to be everywhere. That's all my senses are able to compute. Peeta. My world is Peeta; it's just him and me. His hands and lips caress and love every inch of me, and the sheer amount of tenderness he's showing is almost too much for me to handle. My heart already feels like it's going to explode. I don't know how much more love I can take. It's not normal to feel this much, is it?
Peeta brings me over the edge once before he lines up at my entrance, and suddenly, he's the one who looks nervous and slightly panicked. "Are you sure?" he asks. "Because if you want—"
I interrupt him with a kiss. "I want this, Peeta," I whisper against his lips, before pulling back to look him in the eyes. "I want you." I give him another kiss. "I want you to make love to me."
And he does, sending me into a state of bliss that I never want to end.
Okay, now everybody cheer and dance around happily. *cue happy dancing*
Yep, I have now joined the ranks of FF authors who have written PK's first time. Woo hoo! It was fun. ;)
Quote from the next chapter comes from Peeta!
"Tell me this is real."
Lots of love,
AC
