Hey...It's been a while. Again. :-( I'm really sorry, guys. Band camp started, and it's been eating up all my free time, that and a cello recital coming up...Eh :P

I also wanted to thank everyone who has taken the time to Follow/Favorite/Review this story! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME. It gives me the drive to write. So thank you! Seriously!

This is the Training arena. Rue and Thresh and Cato are introduced a little more, and Effie gets a heart attack...;)

Enjoy!

The electric feel of Katniss' lips pressed against my cheek wakes me up this morning. It's startling almost – last time someone had done something comforting like that was when my mom was still 'alive.' Prim had even tried it a couple times, but it typically made me feel worse – such a young girl trying to comfort a bum like me when I should be consoling her.

This comfort, however, stirs something in my chest.

She brushes the hair off my forehead, beaming brightly – her hair in a general disarray from a good night of sleep – looking more beautiful than she had yesterday evening.

"Hi," she says in a small voice. "We need to get up."

I groan and flip over face down in the pillows. Katniss moans in mock frustration, giggles bubbling up. "Peeta, seriously," she whines. Then I feel something some press in between my shoulder blades – her cheek maybe? The vibrations of her voice on my spine confirm my suspicions when she speaks three horrible words. "Training is today."

Oh yeah. I forgot about that whole Hunger Games thing...

I flip over again onto my back. The previously large grin on her face is wiped off and replaced with a firm line, the skin between her eyebrows creased with worry. I reach up and run my thumb over it, smoothing it out.

She's stressed. I'd have to be blind not to see that. Everything about her speaks of unrelenting tension.

We were supposed to show off our abilities. Abilities that Katniss never had to develop. Maybe I could teach her? Was that allowed? I'd show her how to handle a knife, maybe a bow? She's smart; she'd catch on fast. Heck, by the end of the day, she might even have me beat...

Who am I kidding?

I've been hunting for years – at best, she'd learn how to grip and lock it, but learning to cope with wind and angles takes a really long time. Something we don't have. When it came down to having to shoot someone in the arena, I doubt she'd be able to aim it in a moment of panic and adrenaline.

Knives...she could do knives, perhaps. Less skill required, I guess. If it was large enough, she'd only have to chuck it to do some damage. She works at a damn bakery! She might –

Peeta, you're dumb. Just because Katniss works at a bakery does not mean she knows how to throw knives.

"You'll be okay," I say. "I'll help you."

She shakes her head. "You don't have to do that."

"But I want to."

"Peeta –,"

"Rise and shine, Katniss! Peeta! Where are – GAH!" Poor Effie Trinket – catching her two tributes practically on top of each other in the same bed. Oh, the horror. She cups her hands over her eyes and stomps her foot. "Do you two at least have clothes on?"

My face flushes wildly and Katniss rolls her eyes. "Yes, Effie. I just came in to wake Peeta up." Very nicely, I add mentally. She giggles at my blood filled cheeks.

"Well," Effie huffs, "Breakfast is ready. Get dressed. You have a big day." I see her shake her head once more and move along, looking completely beside herself.

Katniss and I turn to stare at each other. I know my face is still beet red, and hers is slightly flushed – and she's biting her lip, trying not laugh, but a loud snort escapes her. We both lose it. Some reason the fact that when she laughs she snorts, makes her that much more endearing.

She sighs, collecting herself. "Come on," she holds out her hand to me. "I'm hungry."

We are met by Effie and Haymitch in the kitchen. Haymitch looks like he had a rough night – the circles under his eyes being a dead give away of booze consumed after the parade. He manages to crack a smirk when he sees us walking hand in hand. He motions for us to come forward and sit by him.

"Good morning, Princesses," he chuckles. "You ready to talk strategies?"

I groan, "It's too early."

"Well, we have to do it sooner or later. We're running out of time. I thought this morning was appropriate – with Training Day and all." He looks down at his flask and takes a quick swig. He clears his throat. "The touching," he begins, and I flush, already knowing where this is going. "It's good. Keep that shit up, because the Capitol has been eating it like crazy. Because if there's one thing the Capitol likes more than children hacking each other to death, it's romance."

I nod like I understand – but I don't. I mean, I understand how romance will help us, but I don't get where, how, or why all the touchiness started. Katniss and I hadn't been exactly close friends before the Reaping, but we had talked, shared smiles and laughs. If I was being honest with myself, I hadn't really initiated much besides the hug on stage – Katniss had been mainly pulling the weight. Of course I'd never complain. It was sort of dream come true for me, but all the while confusing.

Maybe Katniss had been one step ahead of me and Haymitch this whole time – knowing what the Capitol wanted. Was this all an act? But she was doing it now, while we were eating breakfast in privacy. She was willingly clutching my hand in hers, juggling eating a bowl of cereal and stroking the back of my hand with her thumb like it was completely normal. It sent my mind spinning. Would I spend the remainder of my life deciphering the romantic actions of Katniss Everdeen when I should be thinking about the arena?

Probably.

"Secondly," Haymitch continues. "Don't prove yourselves here. Make them think you're easy. They're less likely to hunt you down if they don't see you as a threat." That made sense. "Lastly keep close to one another." When he says this, he stares directly at me, like it was specific directions on my part. "Effie will be working with you, Katniss. Princess, you're with me." With that, he rises from his chair and places a hand on my shoulder. "Join me for dinner tonight, my lady?" I want to roll my eyes, but the action is so...un-Haymtich I can't resist raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Sure thing."

"Good luck today. And remember – save it for the arena. Have fun in there. Play with some new toys – flirt." He gives a sarcastic grin and leaves us alone with Effie who doesn't quite seem up to talking – suddenly interested in her eggs. Katniss drops my hand, and I can tell from the distance look in her eyes, she isn't feeling great.

Haymitch's absence creates an awkward silence that pushes me into making conversation, something I'd typically never do.

"Are you excited?" I ask Katniss. Her eyes glance up from her bowl and gaze up worriedly at me.

"Sure," she breathes, a tremor. "Maybe they'll have a cake baking station."

I chuckle, "You never know. You could design the first ever cake bomb in the Hunger Games."

She replies with a tiny smile. "I wish I was that clever when it came to engineering. Maybe I can just frost them to death." Her leg begins to anxiously jitter up and down. "You'll do fine, though – You'll be fine," she says to me, stumbling over her words. I place a hand on her bouncing leg, stilling it.

"You will, too," I murmur into her ear, "I'll protect you," and I with that I stand up from the table, finished – but not before kissing the spot I whispered into.

The training arena is nothing like I'd imagine. In person, it's menacing. Everything is cold and darkly lit, making it seem almost as a dungeon. There are stations everywhere, many with sharp objects I'm not sure how to use. There are weights of various sizes that seem to have attracted the stares of several Careers. My sights are not on the weights, though. My eyes are drawn to the sparkling archery set and targets over in the corner. It's calling for me –

Katniss and I follow Haymitch's rule of hand holding well, arriving connected at the fingers – tributes turning to stare at us. Katniss holds her head high, looking extremely confident, even intimidating, their gazes not fazing her one bit.

After an introduction of sorts made by a harsh woman, we are set on our ways to do as we please.

I drag Katniss towards the archery station, set on showing her some skills. She catches on and eyes me warily. "Remember what Haymitch said, Peeta – no showing off."

"I'm not going to show off," I correct. "I'm going to teach you." Her eyes bug out and she shakes her head back and forth frantically.

"I might hurt someone –,"

"Nonsense," I scoff. "You'll do fine. Especially with a great teacher like me." I shoot her a wink and her eyes cast down at her feet, heat rushing to her face.

I immediately grab one of the arrows stacked neatly against the wall. They're heavier than the ones I'm familiar with, probably because the ones back in 12 are home-made and not designed to kill humans. The staff is pretty enough. Its string is tight and it grips well, and it's easy to aim for the most part. Katniss eyes the bow with twinkling eyes, a dreamy glint to them. I hold it out to her.

"Want to try?"

She bites her lip, hesitating. "I shouldn't."

"Really," I interrupt. "I'll help."

As I get closer to her, my brain splits in two directions – one set on helping Katniss, and one set on pleasing...Haymitch.

I lock my fingers around the string, pulling the arrow with it and let it fly. I make sure to let it him towards the edge of the target, as to not attract any attention.

Katniss' eyes narrow at me not convinced.

"You did that on purpose."

I shrug. "Your turn?"

She holds her hand out for the bow and I give it to her willingly. She tries to mimic the positions I'd just demonstrated with, and looks at me lost. "So...like this?" Her fingers shakily grasp the string with wrong fingers and her grip around the staff is too tight – even if just from nerves.

I shake my head. I move to stand behind her and take her right hand in my, reestablishing her fingers' grip and taking my sweet time with it. The tributes are watching us – I can tell from the corners of my eyes. Good.

"Loosen your left hand," I instruct, tapping her stiff arm. She does, eyebrows knitted in concentration. I lay my right hand on top of her and draw it back with mine. "Keep your elbow tucked in," I tell her. "The arrow will shoot straighter." She adjusts herself and looks back over her shoulder at me, eyes dancing. The District 2 boy, Cato, is full on glaring at us to my left, so I lean down and whisper the last part and prays that it looks intimate. "And let it fly."

It's speedy, and it goes straight, hitting the target just below my last shot. The smile I receive from Katniss is better than the wake up call I got this morning.

"I did it!" she squeals and jumping up and down.

"Told you!" I badger, nudging her shoulder. She throws her arms around me, and nuzzles her face into the crook of my neck. I can feel her smile – and I can feel it when she presses her lips to my skin in a faint kiss.

While I try to play it cool, like this is something we do often, I can't. This is not something we do often – this is something I've dreamed of for as long as I can remember late at night when I've had a bad day and need a good thought to help me fall asleep. This is something I never dared to draw on a piece of notebook paper in fear she would notice and freak out.

And when she pulls away from our embrace, she searches my eyes, a small smiling still playing along her face. "Thank you," she murmurs.

I nod, the frog in my throat eating my words.

Behind my shoulder, something catches her eye, making them light up like stars. "Is – is that a camouflage station?" she tears herself from my arms, galloping away from me to a long table of paints and plants from what I can make out.

I sighed in relief that she found something that was in her element. No one seemed to be as enthused by the art sets as Katniss, and I hoped that no one would give her any trouble if I let her out of my sight for a few minutes. I wanted practice.

A table of knives was sprawled out a few feet away from the archery kits, gleaming in its lethal glory. I smiled at the nostalgic rush of home and picked one up. I twirled it around in my hand, feeling its weight and balance – these were the like the set I had back home, light and quick – very capable of damage.

I chucked one carelessly at the target. It stuck towards the middle and I found that to be close enough. If the ones in here were like the ones in the arena, I'd be fine.

"That's really good," a deep voice commented.

"Thank you! I frost cakes back home."

"You a baker?"

"Yeah, my family is."

My eyes darted over towards the sound of polite conversation. The dark boy from 11, Thresh, I think, was chatting to Katniss. He wasn't quite staring her down like she was prey, but with fascination, admiration maybe.

I wasn't sure if I should walk over there or not, but before I could decide, a pair of jealous feet were carrying me towards the jolly couple.

"Hey," I greeted, tightly. My eyes darted down towards Katniss' hand, now completely disguised as tree bark very convincingly.

"Peeta!" she beamed, waving her wooden hand at me. "Check this out!" she laid her hand flat against one of the trees assembled next to the tables, her arm vanishing.

Holy shit.

Maybe I could hide her? Until the Games were over?

"Wow," I breathed. "That's incredible, Katniss."

She giggled. "Thanks."

I stole a glance at Thresh, sizing him up. He didn't say anything to me, just stared back. His eyes were almost as dark as the rest of him, serious yet slightly warm. More importantly though, he was huge.

"HEY!" I heard an angry shriek bellow from across the gym. The sound of metal hitting floor drew everyone's attention towards Districts 1 and 2. "Who the hell took my knife!" It was Cato and he was furious. The veins in were violently protruding and his face was almost purple in rage. "Was it you?" He shoved against District 1, Marvel, testing him.

"No man, I swear." He held his hands up.

"Who the hell has my knife?"

The soft chime of sweet giggles caught my attention my above. A dark creature hung from the ceiling, eyes sparkling mischievously. She had to be about Prim's size, maybe smaller. And she was only dangling was the rafters.

Thresh chuckled quietly beside me. "That's Rue," he said, his voice filled adoration. "She's trouble." And he didn't mean it like she was a threat.

But when another loud scream erupted from Cato, followed by more breaking noises – I knew that there was trouble and someone here was a threat.

I had wished to write more, but I felt the need to get this up right away. So Haymitch's dinner with Peeta will be the next chapter. It'll be pretty short too, I'm afraid. I promise the Interviews will be at least 4k though. I won't cheat you out there :-)

Reviews are adored! Almost as much as Rue:3