I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep before I heard Peeta in the kitchen, and I absolutely did not get a bit of sleep after he went back to his bedroom. I laid back and stared at the ceiling, absently running my fingers over my lips. I could still feel that kiss, soft and tentative and earnest. I replayed it over and over in my mind, trying to figure out what I could have—should have done differently to get him to stay. He froze up when I kissed him back, the breath he took when I pulled back was ragged and shallow. He didn't even open his eyes at first, didn't move. I could still feel where his hand was on my back. Where he'd rested the other on my leg when he first leaned in.
Twain was up early. I listened to him move through the second floor, heard him open the boys' door and pretended to be asleep when he looked in on me. After he moved downstairs I slipped out of bed and lifted the curtains to look out the window. The wind was still howling, but the snow seemed to have died down a bit. I debated going downstairs to help Twain or looking in across the hall to see if Peeta was still awake as well, but I didn't quite trust myself to be around anyone yet.
What had made him go for that kiss to begin with? Peeta hadn't even been able to look me in the eye for days after Delly interrupted us. He didn't initiate physical contact, and the progression to him accepting it from me had been slow and awkward. I hitched up my sweatpants—I could just barely pull the drawstring tight enough to keep them on—and laid back down on the bed. I dozed fitfully, trying not to think about Peeta on the other side of that hallway, or wonder if he was running all of this through his head as thoroughly as I was.
After a while I gave up completely and slipped out of bed, changed back into my clothes, and made up the bed before leaving the pajamas Peeta had given me folded at the foot of it. Twain had gone through the trouble of straightening out the room last night, and I was sure it hadn't been that neat since the last time Darla swept through and cleaned.
Peeta's door was still closed, and I could hear Rye still snoring away behind it. I hesitated, wondering again if I should poke my head in and see if Peeta was awake, but thought better of it and moved downstairs.
"Morning," Twain said, shooting me a brief smile as he carried a load of warm, fresh bread out to the storefront. The kitchen was warm, and the smell of the bread as it baked was inviting and oddly comforting. "Bagels on the counter are still warm. Help yourself. Jam and butter are in the storeroom refrigerator."
"Thanks." I crossed the kitchen and lifted one of the bagels from the tray sitting on the counter. When they were that fresh I preferred them plain, and it was still steaming and soft when I tore it open. I leaned against the counter as I ate, immediately feeling guilty for standing around while Twain moved quickly in and out of the kitchen, pulling trays from the ovens and sliding in the ones waiting with a speed that would have seemed rushed had everything he did not been so fluid and easy. "What would you like me to do?"
"Enjoy your breakfast," he winked at me. "It's likely going to be a slow morning. If I needed the help I'd have dragged Rye out of bed by now." I smiled briefly, the guilt lingering until Twain had cleared the kitchen, all but the currently baking batch of danishes and pastries stocked, and sat down to eat. "Did you manage any sleep last night?"
"A little," I lied, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. "I'm not used to sleeping anywhere but home." That part was true, at least. I'd spent a night or two at the Hawthornes last year when firewood had started getting scarce as winter wore on. I didn't sleep there either, for completely different reasons than what kept me awake last night.
"I'm sure your mother's worried herself sick," he smirked. "Though I hope she realizes there's enough common sense between the four of us here to keep you from trying to trek all the way out there in that storm."
"I'll hear all about it once I get home," I looked over his shoulder toward the window. The sun had just barely risen, and though the wind had died, there was still a bit of snow falling.
"You're not going to like it, but I'd feel better if Rye walked you home," he said. I gave him a look that made him chuckle, glancing down at his half eaten breakfast in front of him. "I know you're fully capable of getting yourself home, even in this. But still. Indulge me."
"You know he'll just use it as an excuse to chase after Delly, right?" I raised an eyebrow, and Twain laughed a bit harder.
"I know more about what those two get up to than you think," he winked at me and got up from the table. The statement sent a rush through me. Did he hear us last night? We were quiet enough, weren't we? Did he know Peeta was in his bedroom with me? Alone. In the middle of the night. Was that really any different than being alone with Peeta in his own room during the day? "I'm going to get Rye out of bed. Let's not let your poor mother worry any longer than she needs to."
"Okay," I nodded, chewing hard on the inside of my lip. I couldn't quite look him in the eye, though I thought I caught him smiling to himself as he disappeared up to the second floor. He returned with both of the boys a short while later, and Peeta hesitated before sitting down next to me. He smiled faintly and I reached out and took his hand under the table, squeezing it and returning the smile before letting go. I wanted him to know I meant that kiss, and wasn't just going to pretend it didn't happen the way I had with those two false starts. The gesture seemed to relax him, if only a little.
"Good morning, kids," Rye smirked, passing behind us to snatch a bagel from the counter before dropping down into the seat across from us at the table. I narrowed my eyes at him. Even if Twain knew, I didn't want a word out of Rye about any of it. Especially not here. If he had anything to get out of his system, I just hoped he had the decency to save it for the walk home. "We're not going anywhere until I've eaten, Catpiss. I'm sure you're not all that eager to leave, anyway." He purposefully cut his eyes toward Peeta, still grinning around a mouth full of bagel.
Neither Peeta or I had anything to say in response. I really wasn't all that eager to leave, but I definitely wasn't all that eager to continue sitting with the father and older brother of the boy I kissed last night—both of whom likely knew exactly what went on. A knock at the back door saved the silence from getting any more awkward. Twain frowned for a moment before stepping into the mudroom.
"I should have seen this coming," he chuckled. "Come on in."
"She's beside herself, you know," Gale said, stomping the snow off on the straw mat in the mudroom and stopping in the doorway. He looked at Peeta before looking at me, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Your mother wanted me to make sure you're not dead."
"Still alive." I tightened my jaw and looked over at Peeta.
"Well, if it isn't Hillbilly Hawthorne," Rye grinned, turning a bit on his stool. The smile dropped from Gale's face. "Are you sparing me the odious task of delivering she who needs no slag heap to her home?"
"It's my odious task today," Gale said, turning to me with an odd look as Rye's little dig at me sunk in. I sneered at both of them before turning toward Peeta.
"Excellent," Rye jumped off of his stool. "I'm going across the square."
"I'll stop by tomorrow," I said softly.
"You most certainly are not," Twain snapped at Rye. "Get the shovel. Go clear the snow out front."
"Okay," Peeta smiled, his eyes downcast. I squeezed his hand. What I really wanted to do was kiss him, but not here. Not in front of everyone.
"I shoveled us out before I came over here," Gale said, shooting Rye a smug grin. "My house and the Everdeen's."
"Well aren't you just a smarmy little overachiever," Rye shoved away from the table.
"Are you okay?" I asked, leaning a little closer. I just wanted him to look at me before I left.
"Gale, can I ask you a question?" Twain said, folding his arms over his chest. I caught a look of feigned curiosity on his face before turning back to Peeta.
"I'm f-fine," he said. He still wouldn't look at me.
"So, you're seventeen," Twain continued, drawing the question out and tapping his finger against his chin. Gale nodded. Rye's shoulders sank. "But you're finishing school. Even though you very well could drop out and do the same work now that you'd do after graduation. Isn't that right?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Dad," Rye groaned.
"Peeta," I said softly, and he finally looked up at me. I smiled and touched his cheek lightly, looking over at Twain, Gale, and Rye.
"I'm finishing school, yes," Gale smirked, looking from Twain to Rye and back again.
"Yeah, because they're going to pay this squirrel fucker more if he does," Rye gestured toward Gale. "You're not gonna do that for me."
"S-something wrong?" Peeta furrowed his brow and glanced over at the three of them. When he turned back I pressed my lips to his. Soft, brief, unseen. He reached for my hand, squeezed it in his, and let go.
"Not with that attitude I'm not," Twain shot Rye a look.
"Not a thing," I said, drinking in the blue of his eyes, the warmth in his expression. "See you tomorrow."
"Bye," he said, and turned in his seat as I crossed the kitchen.
"Don't you have some snow to shovel?" I snapped at Rye before turning to Gale. "It's time to go home."
"Please apologize to your mother for me, Katniss," Twain said. He pointed to bag resting on the floor beside the door to the mudroom. "That's my peace offering."
"I will," I smirked, looking over at Peeta one last time on my way out the door. His eyes hadn't left me. He smiled at me before I picked up the bag and turned to follow Gale through the mudroom, pulling on my coat as I walked. Gale kept shooting glances at me out of the corner of his eye, a wry little smile on his face. I wasn't about to dignify a minute of it, and he didn't speak until we were well out of town.
"I saw that, you know," he said.
"Saw what?" I did my best to feign nonchalance, but I could feel my cheeks flushing. Of course he saw the kiss. I just hoped Twain didn't. Or worse, Rye.
"I'm guessing you enjoyed your little sleepover with the baker kid." His smile grew a little wider.
"Yes, I loved being trapped at my job for 24 hours," I gave him a look, but I knew he saw right through it. No one knew me better, even Madge wasn't as good at calling me out on my bullshit as Gale was.
"How far did it go?" he asked, and I stopped walking completely.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, come on," he dropped his shoulders, turning toward me and cocking his head to one side. "All night with him? Madge told me about the kiss. Kisses. Whatever." I folded my arms across my chest and narrowed my eyes. Madge had weaseled out what little details I'd been willing to give a week ago after she caught wind of Peeta and I out together in town. Word traveled fast, apparently. Too fast. I'd already made the decision to keep my distance at school and give him a chance to salvage whatever I'd tarnished of his reputation. If anyone caught wind of me spending the night after the things I imagined them saying now there'd be no hope for him.
"It didn't go anywhere," I snapped and continued walking. "And I don't like the insinuation that it did." I frowned at him as I walked by, and he laughed, jogging a couple of steps to catch up with me. The snow was thick, light and powdery, our footsteps muffled. I was already covered in snow up to my thighs, my pants soaking through. It would only get worse as the walk went on, and that did nothing to lighten my mood.
"Sure it didn't," Gale smirked. We finally came to the path worn through the snow by the miners headed to work, though it was too narrow to walk side by side. I quickened my step to keep ahead of him, forcing him to either stay behind me or slog through the snowbank to one side if he wanted to do anything but speak to my back. He opted to stay behind me and just raised his voice to compensate. "I think you're forgetting I know his dickhead brother, and he will make a pass at anything with a pulse."
"Rye has a girlfriend," I pointed out, though his statement had me feeling a little sorry for Delly. Was he screwing around on her? She certainly didn't seem like the sort to do anything but quietly put up with it. "And I don't see what that has to do with anything."
"Peeta can't be all that different," Gale said. "Especially if the shit being said around town about Twain and your mother has any morsel of truth to it. Apples, tree. You know."
"Don't say that kind of shit about my mom," I frowned. They may have been involved before, but Twain was fresh out of a divorce, and the idea of my mother involved with anyone but my father was too much to stomach. It would also involve her having a life beyond healing and visiting Hazelle, and that seemed about as likely as hell freezing over.
"Hey, if Twain and your mom actually are a thing, does that make you tongue wrestling with Peeta incest or no?"
"You are disgusting," I whirled around and glared at him, and all he did was laugh. I snatched a fistful of snow from the bank beside the path and threw it at his face. The powder didn't stick, and the ball broke apart and showered a mist of snow over him instead of making contact. He grinned at me and reached for the snow. Gale had a few very odd talents, and one of them, of course, happened to be making deadly snowballs out of anything—even powder as fine as this. "No. I am not in the fucking mood. Don't-!" I took off running as he packed the snow down, my annoyance only worsening when my foot skidded mid-stride on a patch of ice beneath the snowy path and I faltered. Gale hit me square in the back, laughing as he caught up to me. I looped the handles of the bag around my wrist and shoved him as hard as I could, sending him flying back into the snow, and stomped away, leaving him there.
"Lighten up, Catnip!" he called as he got up and dusted himself off. "Whatever's going on over there is doing you good, you know." I flipped him off over my shoulder, continuing on by myself. Even when he caught up to me, I didn't acknowledge him, though I wanted to demand to know what he meant by that. He knew I did, and I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how thoroughly he pushed my buttons. He could be worse than Rye, if only because he knew me so much better.
He patted my back when we got to my house, extending the offer for the three of us to stop by. We tended to hunker down together during storms. It was easier to stay warm with more people together, and my house was impossibly drafty. It wouldn't surprise me to find out that Prim and Mom spent the night next door. I shook the snow out of my hair as I climbed the front steps, taking a breath before I stomped the snow out of my boots and went inside.
"My god, Katniss!" Mom was hovering in the kitchen, her posture tight and nervous. "Do you have any idea how much I worried? I'm assuming you spent the night with the Mellarks. You'd better not have even tried to get home in that."
"Of course I didn't," I frowned at her and held out the bag. "Twain says he's sorry. I didn't look in the bag, but I'm guessing that's apology bread." I turned away from her once she took it, peeling away my cold weather gear as she muttered quietly to herself and set the bag on the table to peer inside.
"Did you have a fun sleepover?" Prim looked up at me over the arm of the couch, her smile and tone far too close to Gale's for my liking. He had to have made some sort of comment that she heard last night.
"Shut up, Prim," I rolled my eyes, rubbing my hands over my arms and retreating to the bedroom to put on fresh, warm clothes. My pants were completely soaked through from the snow, and my skin was cold and numb. I put my long johns on under my clothes and sat down on the bed, tugging an extra sweater on for good measure. The heat of the ovens kept the bakery, as well as the entire second floor, warm. The cold in our house took some getting used to when I got home. What I wanted to do was curl up under the blankets and get some sleep, but more than that I wanted to be near the fire.
Prim was sitting on the couch, a book in her lap, her fingers already sticky from the danish she was eating. Something from that bag, I assumed. Mom offered me one as well, bringing it to me with a cup of hot tea, though I only took the drink. She kept the danish for herself and settled into her chair, watching me as she ate. I pretended not to notice and watched the fire instead, pressing the hot mug between my hands. Did she somehow know something happened between Peeta and I? Did Gale run his mouth last night and put ideas in her head?
"I'm glad you got home safely," she finally said, offering a faint smile. I smiled back at her, taking a sip of my tea. Prim kept casting glances at me over the top of her book, the smirk never leaving her face. I managed to last until the tea was gone before the exhaustion set in.
"I didn't really sleep all that good last night," I said, getting up off the couch and setting my empty mug on the table. "I'm going to try to get some rest."
"Okay, sweetie," Mom looked up at me as she leaned forward to pick up one of her notebooks from the table. "Would you like me to wake you when we go over to the Hawthornes?"
"I'll pass." As much as I was still annoyed with Gale, I really did just want to get some sleep. Maybe that would help me make sense of what I was feeling about last night, though part of me worried once I was alone my thoughts would start circling too fast again and I'd never get any sleep.
That worry turned out to be completely unfounded. I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. A few hours later I snapped awake as Mom slipped a hot water bottle under the sheets at my feet. She smiled at me, apologizing quietly before brushing my hair away from my face and kissing my forehead.
"We're going next door for a bit," she said, her voice soft and quiet. "Just didn't want you getting cold. We won't be long. There's some stew simmering on the stove, if you get hungry."
"Thanks, Mom," I smiled, turning onto my side as she left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. I had been dreaming and pieces of it were coming back to me. It was about Peeta; apparently one real kiss was all it took to turn me into one of those girls who dreams about boys. Most of the dream was gone, but I could still recall pieces of it. Peeta's hands on me; his lips against mine. I could almost feel his weight when he shifted on top of me. The thought set my heart racing. That's the direction I'd set things in by returning that kiss, wasn't it? And it still made me nervous. But I wanted it, and I recognized the feelings it was stirring up in me.
I heard Prim and Mom leaving, their footsteps crunching through the snow on their way next door. The house would be empty for hours, time meant for me to use to catch up on sleep. Time I would have complete privacy. I slipped my fingers under the waistband of my pants, pushing them between my thighs. I moved my fingers over myself, pressing lightly and biting down on my lip when I realized how wet I was, the effect Peeta was having on me already. I thought about the feel of his hand on my back and the taste of his lips. My breath quickening as I imagined going further and feeling more of him against me, feeling his skin under my hands. I thought of the look on his face when he first pulled away from me, the pained expression that had crossed his features when he closed his eyes, and I started feeling guilty.
My fingers stilled and I pressed my hand between my thighs, opening my eyes to frown at the wall as if it would help me with anything running through my head. Did he actually want any of this? He smiled at me this morning when I left, but was that just for the sake of being polite? He was next to impossible to read and rarely ever said anything that would help interpret anything he felt. I wondered if that was a side effect of the accident or if he'd always been like that. He seemed more open before, livelier, at the very least. Would that ever come back?
And what about what Rye had told me? I definitely hadn't forgotten that. What sort of person did he want to be for me? How different was that from how he was now? And what the hell did Rye even mean by time and space? I got the time part of it, but was I supposed to just stand back and not do anything? Wait? It didn't seem likely that Peeta would do anything on his own if I did. Although, he had been the one to kiss me first last night. Is that the sort of thing I was supposed to wait for?
I drifted back to sleep with that still racing through my head, finally waking for good when I heard Mom and Prim returning from the Hawthornes. I went straight for the washroom, doing my best to clean up with the icy cold water from the tap before joining them in the living room. I claimed still feeling sleepy and disoriented to cover my introspection, though it wasn't entirely a lie.
"Gale told me a secret," Prim whispered when we got in bed, a wide grin on her face. I sighed. I knew what it was.
"Did he?" I deadpanned. She giggled and nodded. "And what on earth did he tell you?"
"That he saw you," she paused, her shoulders hunching up as she suppressed a giggle. "Kiss Peeta." I shook my head, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. Prim squirmed a little closer, shivering lightly in the cold. "Did you really?"
"Don't tell Mom," I said softly, looking over at her. The excitement on her face made me laugh, and I turned back toward her, wrapping an arm around her to help keep her warm.
"Really really?" she said, and I nodded, kissing her hair lightly. "Katniss, he's so cute. And he likes you so much."
"How do you know that?" I pulled back and looked down at her. She let out an exasperated little huff.
"It's obvious," she said, shaking her head at me. "Whenever you talk to him he looks like he can't believe you're real. And you don't even notice it. And he made me promise not to tell you but-"
"Peeta made you promise something?" I asked, wondering when the two of them have spoken. "When was this?"
"Yes," she snapped impatiently, sleepiness starting to edge into her voice. "It was right before break started. You weren't here, and Mom was talking to Mr. Mellark on the porch, and he asked me if you ever talked about him. And I said yes because you talk about him all the time, and he asked what you say. I said you stick up for him and make sure people know the truth about him and that you love the bakery, and you've never spent time with anyone but Gale and Madge, and he got this big smile on his face."
"Prim!" I said, a little too loud. I caught myself, lowering my voice before I continued. "Why would you say all that stuff?"
"Because it's true, and he asked!" she said. "Besides, it made him really happy. He made me promise not to tell you because I think he didn't want you to know how much he likes you, but if you're kissing each other it's probably okay."
"He just likes me because he doesn't have any other options," I muttered, thinking of that day in the square when we ran into Merx. About that awkward apology he said he got from Delly. He had no shortage of friends and admirers before what happened. What would they think of him now? It was only another week and a half before we found out.
"He likes you because you're kind to him," Prim said, closing her eyes and snuggling under my chin. "And because you're pretty. Way prettier than that girl Madge said liked him."
"Who did Madge say likes him?" I look down at her, wondering why Madge didn't mention any of this to me in her campaign for me to pursue him.
"Um," she yawned, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember. "The one his Mom's staying with. Is it the Tates? Which one is in your class?"
"Manda?" I frowned. Manda was in a few of the classes we shared—or would have shared, if Peeta had stayed in school this year. She sat in front of Madge and spent more time twirling her hair around her pencil than anything else.
"Yeah, that one. Madge thinks it's funny," Prim said, tightening her arm around me. "Because I guess Manda didn't know they're cousins." I snorted, trying to hold back my laughter to keep from waking Mom. The look on Manda's face when she found out that piece of news must have been priceless.
"You should have told me," I said, rubbing her back. Knowing Peeta had been asking her about me made the things Rye had kept saying make more sense. How long had Peeta liked me, though? What did I do during the time we'd spent together to earn that?
"He made me promise," she yawned again, her voice growing even more faint with exhaustion.
"Goodnight, Prim," I said, smiling into her hair. She murmured softly as she nodded off.
The next morning I let myself sleep in, passing up on the usual hunting trip with Gale. I wanted nothing to do with trudging through the snow for hours only to come home empty-handed. Mom had breakfast waiting when I dragged myself out of bed, a luxury I didn't think I'd ever get used to. Before the Mellarks became such a huge part of our lives, we were lucky to have a single complete meal on any given day; a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast was absolutely unheard of. I'd managed to find ways to force some of the wealth onto Gale and his family, mostly through bringing it directly to Hazelle. Gale had gone from angry to mildly annoyed about it over the course of the past couple of months. Seeing Posy thrive through the winter, for the first time in her short life, had ultimately won him over.
He walked with me to town, trying to pick at me for what happened when I spent the night at the bakery. Anything and everything I told him was going straight to Madge, I knew that, and it took me until we got to the edge of town to decide whether I wanted him to just tell her for me to get it over with, or I'd rather do it myself. When we reached the point where he had to break away to continue to the mayor's mansion, I stopped and turned to him.
"You can tell Madge I kissed him," I said. Gale made a face and looked around.
"I was planning on it," he said, looking at me like I was stupid. "I saw it happen. You know me better than that."
"No, I mean," I sighed, pushing my hair back away from my face when I realized I had just further incriminated myself. A grin spread across Gale's face as the realization dawned on him. "The other night. We couldn't sleep. We sat and talked. We kissed."
"You kissed him, or he kissed you?" Gale raised an eyebrow.
"Both," I frowned, chewing on the inside of my lip. Gale nodded, chuckling to himself.
"Alright. You gonna be home tonight?" he asked.
"Of course I am," I snapped.
"You know she's gonna want to talk to you," he smirked, tossing his head toward the other end of town.
"I know," I rolled my eyes and turned away, continuing on toward the bakery.
"See you later, Catnip," Gale called after me. I waved over my shoulder to him before slipping between the buildings.
I expected the day to be painfully awkward and for Rye to have plenty of jabs to make at me. For Twain to somehow let on that he knew. Nothing seemed the slightest bit different, though. Rye's jabs at me weren't any more specific than usual. Twain was perfectly natural. Peeta didn't come downstairs, though. Even that wasn't unusual, but it made me a little nervous. It gave my doubts validity.
As the afternoon wore on with Peeta still conspicuously absent from the kitchen, I kept my eye out for an opportunity to slip upstairs unnoticed. There was finally a break in the kitchen work, Twain was out on a delivery, and Rye was out front, talking with his friends from school. I went straight upstairs and made my way to the end of the hall, hesitating in front of the closed bedroom door. Did he even want to see me? I listened for a moment and took a breath before raising my hand to knock. Peeta opened the door before my knuckles even hit the wood.
"I h-heard you come up," he said, opening the door wider and moving back to the bed to sit down.
"I was getting a little nervous about you not coming down," I said, stepping in and sitting down next to him. I'd done this more times than I could count; come up here alone, sat down with him in his bed. Why was it making my heart pound this time?
"Just t-tired," he shrugged, scratching his fingers through his hair. He'd stopped wearing the hat around me, for the most part. He saved it for when he went downstairs, and when he knew he'd have to be around my mother, or his father and brothers. "I didn't sleep much while you were here. D-didn't last night either."
"I slept all day yesterday," I chuckled. The sound caught in my throat when that dream came back to me, my skin flushing almost immediately when I thought about the one thing I'd done besides sleep. I shifted, crossing my legs to try to suppress the feeling there. He couldn't even look at me. "Peeta—I'm. I need to say I'm s-"
"Don't," he cut me off, pressing his eyes closed. "P-please don't apologize. You can say—anything except 'I'm sorry'. Please."
"So you're not, um, upset?" I chewed my lip, looking over at him.
"Wh-what?" He stammered, staring at me for a moment. "N-no! God no."
"Okay," I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers together in my lap.
"Katniss?" He shifted closer to me, and I glanced over at him, lifting my eyes to his. He smiled faintly, his tongue darting nervously over his lips. Peeta raised his hand to my cheek and leaned in to kiss me. It was soft and sweet, steadier than the other, firmer. I felt his tongue brush lightly over my lower lip and opened my mouth to him, leaning my body into his. A quiet whimper escaped me as his tongue slid against my own, and he answered it with a gentle rumble I felt through his chest. We pulled back after a moment, my arms around him. His hand had worked its way back into my hair. I couldn't find anything to do with myself but kiss him again; and I did.
His cheeks were flushed when I pulled back, and his other hand had found its way to my waist. One of mine rested on the bed behind him, the other on his thigh. I thought again about that dream. He had laid me down, moved over me, and kissed me deeply. I straightened up, looking down at my hand, then back up at his face. Peeta brushed my hair back over my ear, smiling and looking away when our eyes met. I watched him, trying to figure out exactly what was going through his head; why he had so little to say. Then again, I couldn't find much to say, either.
I coaxed him downstairs after a while and made him keep me company. Rye's smirks seemed to gain a little more weight when I did, though I couldn't be sure if that was my imagination. His behavior didn't change, though. I expected jeers; I had managed to avoid them most of the day. When I sat down to eat before leaving for home Peeta reached for my hand under the table, twining our fingers together. I caught Rye smiling at us before ducking out into the storefront.
"I have to go visit your m-mom as soon as the weather allows," he said, chewing his lip. "B-before school starts again."
"Are you starting back right away?" I asked. He nodded, frowning at the table. He didn't want to go at all, and I honestly didn't blame him. I didn't want to get in the way of him working his way back into whatever he could salvage from his old life, either, and that was going to mean keeping my distance.
"She wants to p-prepare me," he rolled his eyes, shifting his grip on my hand and looking down at it.
"Like she has any idea of what's coming," I smirked, resting our hands on my knee.
"I feel like you're—the only one who c-can understand what that'll be like," Peeta said quietly, looking down at our hands. It bothered me that considering my complete and utter lack of social awareness I seemed to be the only one who saw this was likely to be a disaster. How could my mother consider this something he was ready for? How could his father not see it for the bad idea it was?
Twain let me go early. I had never actually worked through a day without Peeta there. Rye brought him to see my mother early in the morning since the paths from the seam to town were clear of snow, the mud packed hard and solid in the cold. Enough for his wheelchair, though it'd be a bumpier ride than usual. It would be a rough trip home. One we needed to make together. I was, honestly, going home only to turn right back around and make the walk again, this time with Peeta, but I didn't mind. I'd walked longer and farther through the woods with less purpose, and I was happy to finally get a little time truly alone with him after that kiss.
I stepped in through the front door, slipping out of my boots before shedding my jacket and draping it over Peeta's empty wheelchair. He was in his usual spot on the couch, Buttercup curled up in his lap. It was odd seeing him here after it having been so long since the last time he was able to make the trip. Not to mention the change in things between us. He glanced up at me, smiling and looking down at the cat again.
"Katniss," Mom shifted in her chair to look at me. Her tone was off; I didn't trust it. "I'm glad you're back. There's something I'd like to talk about with the both of you." There it was.
"Is there?" I looked at Peeta, hoping for an explanation. He shrugged. He looked as lost as I did.
"Come sit," Mom smiled, gesturing to the empty spot beside Peeta on the couch. I raised my eyebrows, but she didn't offer a word of explanation. I crossed the room, looking to Peeta again, and he had even less to offer. I sat down beside him, ignoring the indignant glare from Buttercup. The cat flattened his ears as I settled back, and Peeta scratched the cat's chin, immediately distracting him. "So. Twain's been noticing a bit of a shift in your relationship."
"What?" I snapped, my posture snapping upright. Peeta tensed beside me. Mom raised an eyebrow at me, and I glanced at Peeta. He shook his head subtly. "What has he been noticing?"
"Just that you're very close," Mom said, and I swear she was holding back a smile. "He agreed it would be prudent if we had a little... discussion."
"My f-father did?" Peeta frowned, looking over at me. Mom nodded. She had her Patient Smile on; one I'd seen too many times over the years, explaining one thing or another to her clients. Her bedside manner was always complimented, but facing it in this light was just making me uneasy. I could sense the same feeling in Peeta.
"Now, I know none of this will be completely foreign to either of you," she said, crossing one leg over the other and lacing her fingers together around her knee. "But I can certainly assure you that neither of you knows as much as you might think you know." She gestured to Peeta and I in turn. "As your doctor and your mother, I feel it's my responsibility to be sure that you're both educated and safe." My heart dropped. She couldn't possibly be going where I thought she was with this. Was she really going to do this to me?
"You've gotten very close, and that's wonderful," she continued, her smile softening. "It's good to see physical affection between you. It can play an important part in recovery, and it's certainly healthy to behave that way. Especially at your age. I think, though, that you're both well aware of where that can lead. Maybe a bit of discussion and education will help the two of you proceed appropriately."
"Mom," I groaned. She was going to do this to me. I covered my eyes with one hand, peeking toward Peeta from under my fingers. The color had completely drained from his face.
"Katniss," she imitated my tone. I gave Peeta the most apologetic look I could muster. "It is healthy to want to explore that part of yourselves. And each other. While I certainly hope you'll demonstrate restraint, I'm well aware of how rare that truly is. You need to keep yourselves safe."
"Please stop, Mom," I pressed my eyes closed, sagging against the back of the couch. Peeta's grip on the scruff at the back of Buttercup's neck had grown so firm the damn cat's eyes were pulled back tight, making him look as shocked and terrified as the two of us felt.
"I honestly doubt either of you has any idea how easy it is to become pregnant," Mom huffed. She gestured toward Peeta's lap, and he pressed his knees together, sinking back against the couch like he was trying to disappear into it. "A single ejaculation contains millions of sperm. And I promise you, Katniss, I am done raising children."
"This isn't- I'm not- We haven't- ugh," I gave up trying to find a way to phrase it and sagged a bit further. I just wanted to find a hole somewhere to crawl into forever. Peeta gave me a desperate, pleading look. Make it stop. All I could do was shrug in response. I couldn't.
"You will," Mom gave me a pointed look. "Maybe not soon, maybe not with each other, but neither of those things change the fact that this conversation is important. Now, I'm sure he'll try to tell you he'll pull out. Believe me, he won't. Many men do not have the self control necessary to do so, let alone an inexperienced teenage boy. That's why the use of a prophylactic-"
"Oh my god! Mom! Stop talking!" I snapped, sitting up again.
"A wh-what?" Peeta said, his brow furrowed in confusion. I just looked over at him, my jaw slack, shaking my head.
"Well, that's certainly a surprise," Mom muttered, raising her eyebrows. "Two older brothers and this is still news." She leaned over the side of her chair, fishing around in the bag leaning against it and producing a small tin. She flipped it open, producing a small, unmistakeable square piece of plastic packaging.
"Are you kidding?" I snapped.
"Oh! Oh, uh, n-no I- um, I kn-n-n-" Peeta stuttered, waving his hand in front of him in futile protest.
"Where the hell did you even get those?" I stare at my mother, folding my arms across my chest. This had to be the single most painful experience of my life.
"Well, I only had a couple left," she said. Peeta's eyebrows flew to his hairline, and I swear he was fighting back a smile. My lip curled in disgust. "But Gale offered-"
"Oh my god, Gale knows about this?" My jaw dropped, my shoulders hunching up around my ears. I wanted to get up and go straight next door to slap the shit out of him. I lowered my voice to a mutter. "Of course. Of course Gale knows. Because how could this possibly be any worse?" I leaned back, glancing over at Peeta in complete disbelief. His eyes were the size of dinner plates. Buttercup hissed and squirmed to claw at Peeta's iron grip on the back of his neck.
"Now, Katniss, pay attention, you may need to help him with this," Mom said, and we both just stared at her. I'd brought this on us, tempted fate with that question, because at that moment it became infinitely worse. Both Peeta and I just stared in quiet horror as she demonstrated how to use one, unrolling it over her fingers, and I struggled to hold back vomit when the phrase 'pinch the tip' left my mother's mouth. She let out a short, soft laugh. "Obviously this is significantly different from what he will look like-"
"I know," I snapped. Both Peeta and my mother stared at me, raising their eyebrows. I gaped for a moment, stammering as I tried to explain myself. "You- you treat patients here, it's not like I haven't seen- you know."
"Katniss, that's a bit different from his erect p-"
"I'm aware," I snapped, cutting her off before she could even finish the sentence. I folded my arms across my chest and dropped against the back of the couch, frowning and staring toward the fire. I could feel Peeta looking at me. There was no way I could bring myself to look back.
"Well then," Mom muttered, clearing her throat. She handed the tin and its remaining contents to Peeta. He took them hesitantly, dropping his arm against his leg immediately, as if he was afraid to bring them too close. "You'll need to take care in putting them on, as they can be extremely easy to tear. Especially in the heat of the moment."
"That's stupid," I spat, glancing at the tin and at Peeta before looking back toward the fire. His face was a deep, vivid red.
"Be sure to keep them near your bed," Mom continued as if I hadn't even spoken. "Even carry one with you. Arousal can and will make you both stupid enough not to care about protection if it isn't easily accessible, but that's no excuse." She wasn't even close to done, but I blocked out anything more she had to say. It felt like a century before she finally finished, smiling warmly at both myself and Peeta and ushering us toward the door. "I hope I've given you some things to think about to guide your decisions."
Neither of us spoke for most of the walk home. I couldn't swallow the utter humiliation she'd just forced on me. On Peeta. Though maybe that was purposeful. It was certainly the most effective birth control she could possibly give. There's no way I would even be able to look at Peeta any time in the near future, let alone touch him. Even staring down at the back of his head as I pushed his chair was too much, and I looked over him, staring at the path ahead of us. Peeta's shoulders started to shake, his hand moving to cover his face, and I looked down at him. Great, on top of all that horror she'd put me through, now I needed to find a way to get my shit together long enough to talk him down from his tears.
Peeta threw his head back, covering his face with both hands, and I realized he hadn't been crying at all. He'd started laughing. It grew louder the longer it went on, until I couldn't help but join in. My laughter was far more hesitant and confused.
"I don't think this is all that funny," I said, pressing my lips together and trying to stop my own laughter. "You had to ask."
"I've n-never heard that word!" he chuckled, twisting to look at me. "Who c-calls them that?"
"My mother," I frowned, shaking my head. "Apparently. Ugh."
"That w-was h-horrible," he squeezed out, nearly wheezing as he hunched forward again. "I th-thought it was bad. And then she p-put it on her fingers. Oh god." He covered his face with his hands, shaking his head, his shoulders still shaking with laughter. I joined in, knowing full well the two of us must have looked like lunatics to anyone who saw us walk by.
"I thought you were going to strangle that poor cat," I said, unable to wipe the smile off of my face. He shifted in his chair so he could look over his shoulder at me without straining his neck, still chuckling.
"Can we p-please pretend that never—ever happened?" he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Please," I begged, and he laughed again, holding his hand out for me to shake.
"Deal," he said, gripping my hand for a moment before letting my fingers slide through his as he turned back around. When we reached the edge of town I heard a familiar voice that made my heart bottom out somewhere around my feet. Of course.
"Catnip! Hold up!" Gale was jogging the last stretch of the shortcut he sometimes used toward the mayor's mansion. Peeta swore under his breath, sagging in his chair. "I was hoping I'd catch you two." He grinned at me as he caught up to us, nudging me out of the way and taking hold of the back of Peeta's chair.
"Hi Gale," I deadpanned.
"Hey, buddy," he grinned down at Peeta, drawing the words out four times as long as necessary. "I'm guessing you two just had a wonderful afternoon."
"Which we have sworn never to speak of again," I pointed out, folding my arms across my chest. "And what the fuck is wrong with you, giving that shit to my mother?"
"I overheard her talking to my mom," he shrugged, looking over at me and grinning. "And I seem to remember you making sure I had the most humiliating birthday possible just a couple of weeks ago." I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"
"Will you go home?" I pleaded. Peeta had his hand over his eyes, slouched against the armrest of the chair.
"Alright, alright," Gale grinned. We were almost at the bakery. He stood back, gesturing toward the chair for me to take hold of the back. "Just promise me something. Both of you."
"What," I snapped, and Peeta turned to look up at him.
"You'll think of me when you put them to use," he grinned, turning and jogging away as I exaggerated the shudder that rolled over me. "Goodnight, Catnip! Play safe!"
"I'm going to kill him in his sleep," I muttered, leaning against the back of Peeta's chair and maneuvering it to the alley between the bakery and the tailor's.
"I'm giving them to Rye," he frowned, getting up and helping me pull the chair the rest of the way, taking my arm as we made our way up the back steps. "I'm not even going to b-be able to l-look at that without thinking of... all that. We'll just get more."
"We?" I smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. Peeta froze, his hand halfway to the doorknob. His eyes went wide as he looked over at me.
"Um, I, uh I d-d-didn't m-mean t-t-" he stuttered, searching for the words and trying desperately to cover for himself. My heart melted a little at the terrified look on his face as he yanked off his hat and scratched his fingers into his hair. I stepped closer and kissed him, cutting him off before he got himself any more worked up. His lips were soft and wet against mine, and his body relaxed as he leaned into the kiss. He sighed when I pulled back, his brow furrowing. "Sorry."
"Don't," I smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it lightly before turning to open the door and tuck his wheelchair into the mudroom. "See you, Peet."
"Goodnight, Kat," he smiled, watching me until I turned to go, closing the door softly behind me.
Thank you everyone, for all your kind words and incredible reviews and lovely support. Special shoutout to guest reviewers I can't reply to, thank you guys, really. Come talk to my husband and I on tumblr, we love you guys. He's yourpeetaisshowing, I'm alonglineofbread.