I have "Boomerang" by the Plain White T's stuck in my head… :DD

oOo

After about two hours of moving belongings, scrubbing floors, and making bed, Peeta and I finally got things worked out. Everything of mine was piled on his bed in his room (we didn't have time to actually sort it out right then), and my old room was spick and span. When we made it back to Peeta's room in one piece, he pulled me down onto the floor to rest, since the bed was full.

I flopped my head onto his shoulder and sighed a very gusty sigh. "We're half-way done…"

Peeta, who had sighed just like me, tucked his chin on top of my head. "Good job. I hope it's worth it."

"If it wasn't I wouldn't have done it." Since it was the closest thing to me, I pressed my lips to the crook of Peeta's jaw. "It's totally worth it."

He didn't say anything, just bent down to give me a brief kiss in agreement.

For a few minutes we took a break from hauling stuff, but around fifteen minutes later, we had to get back to work.

Peeta stood up, helping me up with him. "Let's get back to work. If all goes well, we'll have some time to spare before dinner at seven."

After shaking out my shoulders, I nodded.

First things first, we had to move the clothes from Peeta's bed. But there was the issue of the not-clean ones, and the ripped ones (that poor dress…), along with folding the rest. Peeta had no problem sitting on the pillows sorting out my clothes with me.

I tossed dirty clothes in the corner, clothes that I could no longer wear in another corner, and the rest I folded up carefully into one of the drawers of the wardrobe. When the hamper and the trash bin were full, I collapsed onto the mussed up blankets of what was now both mine and Peeta's bed.

The corners of his mouth twitched up when I closed my eyes, and the next thing you know, his arms were around my waist pulling me backwards against him. I felt one of his hands brush the hair away from my neck and he pressed his lips against the bare skin. "You sure you're okay with the pictures?"

"Mm… Perfectly fine…" When I had my surgery two weeks ago, I blacked out when I had vertigo, and it was impossible to think too hard without horrible pain. Now, two weeks later, all that remained of the side-effects was getting worn out easily. You can see why carrying an armful of clothing and a few other little things could make me so tired.

Things were peaceful and wonderful for a few minutes. Until, of course, my brain wandered to what my mother had said at lunch. "The spy in the Capitol has reported back that an attack was being planned, but no date was set. People have been talking about the Mockingjay…" Despite everyone's casualness at that, I was nervous.

But I had to face the facts. There will be a Capitol fight. I am the Mockingjay. And, whether Peeta and Mother want me to or not, I was going to fight, and I was going to kill President Snow. I knew it had to happen sometime, so why was I so frightened of it happening sooner rather than later?

My head was beginning to hurt, and I could feel the stress building in my stomach. With a small sigh, I stood up. "I need a shower. I'll be right back."

One of Peeta's eyebrows twitched into a polite question, but he just smiled. "Take your time. I'll be right here…"

The shower felt good; cold water unlocked and relaxed my tense muscles, making it easier to breath. Showering on my own felt good, too. Back in my room in the hospital, I wasn't allowed to be anywhere alone. Of course, Peeta and I wore our underclothes when we were in the shower, but it just wasn't the same. Doing this was nice, of course, but after dinner I was planning on soaking in the bathtub for an hour. I hadn't had a real bath in a month.

After scrubbing myself down with a bar of soap, I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out. I felt 100% better than I did half an hour ago. My fresh clothes were sitting next to the sink, so I gratefully slipped into those and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was an absolute mess, so I combed it out and plaited it into a neat black braid down my back. Once I was content with my appearance, I went back into the bedroom.

Peeta had his head back on the pillows, eyes closed lightly, and a nearly imperceptible smile on. When I crawled onto the bed next to him, he looked up. "Have a good shower?"

I shrugged and nodded. Peeta closed his eyes again.

He was so beautiful and serene like that, I couldn't just sit there. Gently, I slipped my hands under his head and pulled it onto my lap. Peeta didn't look at me, only smiled.

My heart automatically opened to this sweet, disheveled boy in my lap. Golden hair hung over long butter-colored eyelashes, which cast near-invisible shadows on his cheekbones. Peeta's skin was as unblemished as a bowl of cream, pale but not too pale. A flawless bone structure held his shoulders casually, and—fighting an adoring smile—I let my eyes trail further down. Wiry muscles shaped his familiar chest; all the baby fat I had known on him was gone.

Finally, I glanced down at Peeta's leg. I had grown so used to it, I needn't think about it often. Under the black trouser leg and the white sock was a plastic-and-metal contraption. Peeta would be gone without it. The contraption replaced what had been his lower leg, but over the time, handling it had become natural.

He wasn't perfect. Heck, he was far from it. No one who passed in the hands of the Capitol was left unspoiled. But it was okay that Peeta had imperfections. Because he was my Peeta.

I felt a sudden rush of protection and admiration for him. He was my Peeta. He was all mine and I loved him more than anything. In a way, all his flaws are my fault. Well, not fault so much. All of those scars, prosthetic leg, everything like that were not imperfections. They were symbols of survival. And without me, those "flaws" would be a lot more than little scars, and vice-versa. Our battle scars were earned with each other's help, and I couldn't help but think that automatically made him mine. He was my Peeta and I'll never let him go.

With a small sigh of fondness, I bent over and pressed my lips clumsily to his.

Peeta's blue eyes fluttered open. "Now, what was that for?" He murmured, mouth turning up into a small smile.

"'Cause you're all mine."

We both smiled at the memory. Mother had just given me to Peeta or something like that (mothers…) and he came back in the room grinning his face off, and pretty much the exact same thing happened.

With a finger, I brushed a piece of Peeta's hair from his forehead. "If you want anyone else, you're screwed. You know that, right?"

I was rewarded with a flash of white teeth as he laughed. "Good thing I don't want anyone else."

I smiled and brushed my thumb against his cheekbone. "Yeah…good thing…"

For a few minutes we sat there, feeling each others' heartbeats, when Peeta opened his eyes again.

"I have a really stupid question for you."

I raised my eyebrows slightly. "I'm sure it's not that stupid."

Peeta seemed slightly hesitant, but then he plunged in. "Why did you choose me? And don't give me any of that 'we've been through so much I had no choice' crap. Tell me why you stuck with me."

I blinked. He was right. It was a stupid question. He knew why I chose him, didn't he?

Peeta's voice softened somewhat when he said, "And please don't say anything about the Capitol or how they forced me to be with you. I'm asking why you," He put a finger to my collarbone. "chose me." He put the same finger to his own.

Well, jeez this guy was so specific I was rendered speechless for a minute. If I couldn't use 'just because' or the Capitol for an answer, what could I say? I'm sure Peeta wouldn't be content with "because I love you" either.

"You don't' have to answer right now, Katniss. It's okay. I was just curious." Peeta closed his eyes and a serene smile spread across his face, along with another look. I sure hope it wasn't sarcasm. "Being the legendary Girl on Fire, you have practically the whole of Panem at your feet. Not to mention that everyone thought you and Gale would be together."

I frowned. I knew exactly what Peeta was doing, and it wasn't nice.

Stupid Peeta kept rambling. "I can understand why he hated me so much. I mean—the Capitol forced you and me to be together, and he was shocked that you actually went along with it and stuck with me even after things wound down instead of going back to hi—"

"If you wanted me to say I loved you, you could've just asked." I snapped, all the adoration gone. "You didn't have to bring Gale into the conversation."

For a moment he was silent, registering the hurt in my voice. I took that moment to slide off the bed and, face turned away, let a tear squeeze out of my eye. There was a reason I never talked about Gale.

It hurt so badly, thinking of his beautiful, concentrating face, and knowing I would never see it again. I thought of how silently he stepped in the woods, always right next to me, watching my back. We worked together, and no one person could be responsible for keeping the other alive.

I needed him, and I missed him, and Peeta just had to point out how much Gale had loved me. If I had known he was going to be killed, there were so many things I would have said to him. And maybe, maybe if he was lucky, "I love you" would have been one. Because in a way, I did love him. And it took his death for me to see that. A lifetime too late…

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Katniss." Peeta whispered behind me, and I felt his hand brush against my shoulder.

I couldn't help but flinch away. He did hurt me, but holding grudges wasn't my specialty. I wanted to be angry at him for this pain I felt, raw and aching in my chest, but I just couldn't. After all, it wasn't his fault that Gale had been killed.

Peeta stood there behind me, waiting for me to say something, anything. One thing I appreciated about him in times like these was at certain times, he knew when to back off. He knew when it wasn't okay for him to put his arms around me and hold me. He let me be the one to come to him.

I appreciated the time to compose myself a little better. After taking a deep breath, I turned back around towards Peeta. He looked sad and apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. I really am." Peeta reached out a hand and very gently touched my cheek. "Forgive me."

"I can't hold grudges. You know that…" My voice broke several times, and I had to fight back tears.

It was then Peeta decided it was a good time to wrap his arms around me. I was grateful, though, to have—quite literally—a shoulder to cry on. The horrible throbbing in my chest was starting to subside. Maybe it was always going to be like this; me falling apart every other day, and Peeta being the one holding me together.

Peeta stroked my hair back away from my face, and kept pressing his lips to the top of my head until the sobs diminished. "You're okay, Katniss. I've got you…"

I took a very, very big breath until I could hold no more, then I let it out and wiped my eyes. "Ah, the joys of being an adolescent rebel girl doomed for a lifetime of torture."

"It's not over yet." Peeta smiled sadly and rubbed his hand on my back.

"Thank you, that makes me feel a lot better…"

"Any time."

oOo

Kidnapping is a strong word. I prefer "surprise adoption".