I didn't want Katniss to leave, though we both knew she had to at least make another appearance downstairs, whether or not Dad actually wanted her to work. I knew he'd send her home. I'd heard him talking to Rye earlier, lecturing him on taking off the day before and what he'd have to do to make up for it. When Katniss left my room I wouldn't see her until school on Monday, and that was most of my reluctance to let her go. Then there was the taste of her lips, her arms around my neck, the way she played with my hair when I kissed her, the feel of her tongue seeking mine and the soft curves of her body so close to me. I wished I could lay her down again, but I was too nervous, too afraid of pushing her away. Especially after that admission, that she wanted to give us a try. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin it by being too eager.
I took a nap when she was gone, trying to push the feel and taste of her out of my mind until I'd have a guarantee of the privacy I needed to really think about them. I dreamed about her anyway, of having her in bed with me again, and I woke aching and dizzy. It only took a few pumps of my fist to relieve the feeling. When I finished, I cleaned any trace of it away, changed, and picked my way downstairs. The bakery was closed for the night with Dad nowhere to be found and Rye crouched behind the cases in the storefront, cleaning them out and muttering to himself.
"Hey," I leaned against the door frame. "Want s-some help?"
"Nah," he shrugged. "Almost done." I nodded, pushing away from the frame and walking to the half price case at the end of the counter, where the leftovers from the day had already been moved. I pulled out a muffin, breaking off part of the top and popping it into my mouth as I went back into the kitchen to get a drink.
"Where's Dad?" I asked, turning to sit at the work table after filling a glass at the sink. Rye came back into the kitchen, tossing his rag onto the table and pulling out the seat across from me.
"The Cartwrights'," he said, reaching over and breaking off a piece of my muffin for himself before I could so much as protest.
"Surprised D-Delly's not here," I said, raising an eyebrow.
"She's with um, whatsername," Rye frowned, sucking the crumbs off of his thumb. "Your friend. The mayor's daughter."
"Madge," I supplied, and Rye nodded.
"Yeah," he wiped his hand on the side of his pants. "She's coming over afterward."
"Think you could t-take it to the basement this time?" I raised an eyebrow. Last weekend they had sex in the kitchen, and I don't know how the hell it didn't wake Dad. Rye snorted.
"You're going to have to start sneaking Katniss down there too once Dad catches on to what you're doing to her upstairs," he smirked. I rolled my eyes. Once Dad caught on it would probably end altogether; there was no way I had it in me to handle those rickety basement stairs in the dark. Falling face first down them certainly wasn't going to do me any favors with getting Katniss under me again. "She let you get frisky again today?"
"I didn't—um," I shook my head. Rye dropped his hand to the table and gave me a look.
"You didn't even try?" he rolled his eyes when I nodded, letting out an annoyed sigh. "How are we related?"
"Sh-shut up," I chuckled, scratching my fingers up into my hair.
"That girl wants to be on your dick. Why are you not all over her?" Rye tossed his hands out to either side and let them fall back into his lap. "Do you know I would have done to Delly if we'd had the chances you're having with Katniss? Fuck, Peet."
"Yeah, well—you're a p-pervert," I raised an eyebrow, and he opened his mouth to protest, thinking better of it and shrugging instead.
"Just take advantage of it," he smirked. "Before you lose the chance." I frowned, looking down at the table. Did he mean because of Dad? Or was he trying to tell me I might lose Katniss altogether?
At school the next day she was watching the door from her seat when I wheeled myself into the classroom. The smile on her face when our eyes met gave me a much needed boost. My stutter had returned with a vengeance at the prospect of another two classes in a row. Friday had been torture, even if what followed was amazing. With any luck I'd be able to skirt under the radar and get home relatively unscathed. Some days I did.
It wasn't going to be one of those days. Merx and Verne exchanged looks as I took my spot in the back of the room. Verne was a desk away, and I did my best to ignore him. Not all that easy with him staring right at me. My old seat would have had me sitting right in front of Merx in every class, and that would have been worse. I tugged on the edge of my hat and kept my eyes trained on the front of the room.
"You're fucking defective, Mellark, you know that?" Verne hissed, leaning closer to me. My jaw tightened, the twitch threatening, and I rubbed the heel of my palm against it, thankful that the faint flutter I couldn't hold back was at least on the opposite side of my face. Verne couldn't see it from where he was sitting. Merx could. He was turned around in his chair, staring at me like I was a fucking freak.
Katniss walked with me to the next class, Merx and Verne well ahead of us, thereby freeing me from the two of them. A little over an hour, that's all I had to suffer through, and then I could leave. I was free of Mrs. Everdeen today, Katniss wasn't working, I could just go home and crawl into bed and shut out the world. And I wanted to.
Miss Krugel made her way to the back of the class where she'd set up my desk, slipping a paper in front of me. She'd been giving me separate assignments, and as much as I appreciated the care she took in it, it singled me out. I didn't need anything more singling me out.
"Good work, Peeta," she said softly, tapping the top page. She'd asked for a book report on something I'd read recently. Gave me a list of titles if I hadn't been reading. Reading took a painfully long time; I'd been picking away at the same book for months. I couldn't help but wonder if the B she had given me was pure leniency.
"Th-th-thanks," I said quietly. Not quietly enough that Verne didn't immediately whirl around and grin at me. I slouched deeper into my chair, frowning at my desk. Katniss was watching me, her brow furrowing when I raised my eyes to hers. I flashed a small smile and dropped my eyes to the desk again.
I rushed for the door when class was through, my coat draped across my lap. Rye would be out front waiting. I could get out and get the hell home. It was over. The minute I was in the hall Merx and Verne fenced me in on either side, walking beside my wheelchair. I heaved a sigh, refusing to look up at them, and just pushed the wheels a little faster. They easily kept pace with me.
"Hey P-P-P-Peeta," Verne said, and I could hear the grin in his tone. He was awfully fucking pleased with that stupid joke. It made my skin crawl.
"Going back to the b-b-b-bakery?" Merx leaned down, thumping his hand hard against my shoulder. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, biting down hard and trying to move the wheels faster, in an attempt to get away from them. "Why are you in such a r-r-rush?" The two of them cackled, breaking away from me. I felt one of them give my wheelchair a hard shove. It skidded to one side, and I had to put my foot out to keep from crashing into the wall. I closed my eyes and listened to their cackling fade down the hall and squaring my shoulders before pushing on. The students had at least thinned out at this end of the hall, toward the administrative wing and away from the classrooms. There weren't many people around to witness what had happened. The ones who did would be talking about it, though. Everyone would know by tomorrow.
"Are you okay, Peeta?" The school administrator stepped out of her office, glancing down the hall in the direction Merx and Verne had disappeared before turning her attention back to me.
"Yeah," I kept my head down, avoiding her gaze. She walked to the front door ahead of me, pushing it open and stepping out to hold it as I pushed myself through.
"Have a good afternoon," she said, her voice soft with a hint of pity in it that I absolutely hated. "Say hello to you father for me."
"Okay." I pushed myself past her as quickly as I could, gliding down the front walkway toward Rye. He raised his arm to wave to her before taking ahold of the back of my chair.
"Always wanted to bang her," he said. I turned to give him a look, shifting to pull my coat on as I glanced around him to see the administrator disappear back into the building. She was far younger than most of the other faculty, but that didn't change the fact that she was an adult, and hearing my brother talk about her like that, when he most certainly wasn't one, was bizarre.
"I'm sure, um, D-Delly would be—th-thrilled t-to know," I dropped back, slouching in the seat and folding my arms over my chest.
"Yeah, I'm sure her husband would be, too," Rye snorted.
"Just g-get me—home p-p-please," I grumbled, tugging my hat down and hating the stupid fucking stutter even more. If he had anything else to say during the walk home, I blocked it out. The minute we were back to the bakery I went straight to my bedroom. I stopped on the way to shed my coat and boots in the mudroom before pulling myself upstairs and kicking the bedroom door closed behind me. I could hear the low murmur of Dad and Rye's voices downstairs, but I couldn't make out a thing they were saying. I collapsed into bed and buried my head beneath the pillows. Staying there until I had to get up for school the next day.
Merx was standing outside the history classroom when I arrived, his girlfriend Gilda on his arm. She giggled when she saw me, and he pushed her away, off toward her own class, without even turning his devious grin away from me. He pushed up off the wall, glancing over his shoulder to be sure Verne and whoever else was hanging onto him now were watching.
"Hey P-P-P-Peeta," he grinned, I didn't stop or look up, just kept pushing past him. "Aw, let me give you a hand, there." He grabbed the back of my chair and jerked it to one side, turning too hard toward the door and making my gut wrench.
"Just—f-fucking-" I pressed my lips together, not trusting myself to go any further without stuttering. I definitely did not want to do that in front of him ever again.
"No need to th-th-thank me," he said, lowering his head to speak low enough that the teacher wouldn't overhear as he pushed me toward the back of the class. He steered me into a desk, my shin barking painfully against the bar between the legs and fell all over himself to apologize as he arranged me at the back of the room.
"F-fuck off," I muttered, half a moment too late, and he just shot a grin at me over his shoulder before dropping down into his desk. Katniss walked into the classroom to a chorus of half stifled giggling at the entire display and stopped short. She frowned, looking to me for an explanation as she slowly made her way to her desk beside the windows. I just shook my head, dropping my gaze to my desk.
Katniss tried coaxing something out of me throughout lunch, but all I could do was shake my head. My jaw was clenching to the point I was afraid any movement would unleash a torrent of twitching I'd never get under control. I squeezed her hand under the table, hoping that would be enough to reassure her. She fixed a worried look on me that stuck through the rest of the day. It stayed in my head through the trip home, the appointment with her mother—during which I did my best to say as little as possible—and through the nap I took afterward.
That look was still on her face when I woke to her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on my hip, and her fingertips rubbing over the blanket. She smiled briefly as I turned onto my back, stretching as I sat up and trying to return the smile. Mine had to be as weak as hers, if not moreso.
"You okay?" she asked, moving a little closer. I nodded and she cocked her head to one side. She knew I was lying. "I heard some of the shit they've been saying."
"F-fuck them," I frowned, pressing my hand over my cheek as the twitch settled in, jerking my jaw to the side before fluttering uncontrollably over the muscles on the side of my face.
"Exactly," Katniss took my hand, pulling it away and lacing our fingers together. I turned my head in an awkward attempt to hide the twitching. "Fuck them. You're better than this."
I squeezed her hand, frowning and avoiding her eyes. Rye had said the same thing more than once. It was hard to feel better than any of it when all those guys kept doing was repeating the same things I thought about myself. Tears stung my eyes. I'd managed to avoid crying all day, even with all the shit Merx and his friends slung at me, and now I was about to lose it in front of her.
"Peeta," she said softly, setting her hand on my cheek and turning my face toward her. "Stop." I took a deep breath before opening my eyes to look at her. Her hand slid to the back of my neck as she leaned in to kiss me. I melted against her, hating myself for crying, hating myself for not being able to hold it together, and for being unable to initiate any of this. I couldn't even bring myself to move closer to her, and I wanted to, so badly. Katniss pulled back, her arms resting on my shoulders, and I clenched my jaw, keeping my eyes down. "Do you just want me to let you get some rest?"
No. No, I didn't. I didn't want her to go anywhere. I wanted her to stay with me and kiss me again. I wanted to silence everything else in my head and kiss her back and lay down in this bed with her and just be close to someone who made me feel like I mattered. Why couldn't I say any of it?
"It is kind of getting late," she said, shifting away from me but still keeping her hold on my hand. "My mom's actually started caring about when I get home. Why she suddenly cares now..." She trailed off, letting out a brief, humorless laugh and shaking her head. She leaned in and kissed me again, and I found it in me to kiss her back, but it was too brief for it to matter. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest."
I nodded and she stood, letting her fingers slide through mine as she did. I watched until she quietly closed the door and dropped onto my back. I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow around my head as I did, and decided I wouldn't be getting out of bed tonight, either. Dad poked his head in at one point, and Rye was in and out a few times. I ignored them both, feigning sleep. Dozing a little here and there. When Rye finally settled in to sleep for the night I listened to his breathing even out, slowly morphing into snores, and I slipped out of bed.
I picked my way downstairs in the dark, as carefully as I could, stumbling a little at the bottom of the steps. The kitchen was warm. Even with the ovens low in the middle of winter they kept it that way. The storefront was drafty and cold, with a bitter wind rattling the panes and squeezing through the cracks. I folded my arms around my chest and crossed the room to the windows. I'd avoided the storefront as much as I could since everything happened. I'd never been out here with customers present. Coming here when we were open was something I tried to avoid now. It felt strange to be out here at all, and even stranger to feel uncomfortable about it. I used to like working the counter. I liked talking to people; I liked talking about nothing with people whose names I barely knew. Dad knew everyone by name, and I knew most of them by what they ordered. Remembering that was more than enough to put a smile on someone's face, and I enjoyed it. I doubted I'd ever do that again. I couldn't remember a damn thing and couldn't speak properly. I most likely didn't even have enough control over myself to successfully bag a fucking order. I'd certainly never manage the till again. Mrs. Everdeen had been working on my grip and my motor skills. It made me feel like a child, having to learn everything over again, having her correct how I held a pencil or refold my fingers around a fork. More than anything I wanted my old life back, my old self. I was stuck in a body I couldn't control with a mind I only had a tenuous grasp on at times. The one thing I had felt was missing before was right in front of me now, and I was fucking it up. Katniss would get sick of it, of me, and then what would I have?
"Rough couple of days, huh?" Dad's voice startled me. I whirled away from the windows, wiping at my face quickly and nodding. "Gotta be worse after how good you felt this weekend."
"Yeah," I frowned, listening to the floorboards creak as Dad crossed the room to stand beside me.
"Kills me to see you like this," he said quietly. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry." His voice hitched, and he took a slow breath, lifting his chin and leaning forward to squint at the sky through the window. "You deserve a hell of a lot better than this. Shit, Peet, you deserve a hell of a lot better than you ever got."
"Dad," I said quietly, watching the tight expression on his face and the tense shift of his jaw.
"I'm sorry," he looped his arm around my shoulders. I turned toward him and that was all it took. He pulled me into a hug tight enough to squeeze the breath out of me. My hands settled on his back and I leaned against him, biting down on my lip as he pressed a kiss into my hair and rested his cheek against the top of my head. Affection like this did not come easy in this house. With Mom around, exchanges had always been brief, and even in her absence that had been slow to change. It just piled onto everything I'd been struggling to contain. I started to cry. Again. Dad rubbed his hand over my back and I felt a shift in his breathing; he was crying too.
"I j-just—need t-to sleep." I pushed away from him, afraid to look him in the eye, and moved toward the back kitchen, needing to escape.
"Goodnight, Peet," Dad said softly, his voice painfully sad. I pulled myself upstairs, shoving the bedroom window open before collapsing into my bed.
I drifted through the next day, blocking everything out, just wanting to get through and escape. I ignored the jeers in the hall. Ignored Merx stuttering out my name to a chorus of obnoxious laughter. Ignored the classes, the gibberish being taught, and the looks cast toward where I sat in the back of the room. At the end of math, I got up from my desk and picked my way past the other students making their way into the coat room at the back of the class. I lowered myself into my wheelchair, my body aching from the complete lack of sleep I'd had over the past two days. It lurched backward just as I was about to sit, knocking me off balance, my hand slipping from the arm of it and twisting my bad wrist against the seat. I swore under my breath, looking up to see Verne and Merx walking away, making a point of looking away from me and tsking the half stifled laughter around me.
"Fucking prick," Katniss muttered, standing in front of me and watching the two of them go. I didn't know which one of them did it, and I didn't particularly care. I just wanted to leave. My wrist burned, and I frowned as I tried to rub the feeling away. Katniss stepped away from me and a moment later she draped my coat over my lap. "I'm taking you home." Her voice was tight and tense, and she moved behind the chair, taking hold and pushing me out of the room.
"Shit, Mellark, finally low enough to need help from the seam rats, huh?" Merx said, smirking as the kids behind him laughed. Katniss veered my chair toward him, steering one side of it straight over his foot. Merx winced, jerking back and hissing a string of obscenities at her.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her voice laden with sarcasm. I pressed my knuckles against my mouth, trying to hold back laughter. "That was terrible of me. Can't really expect a Seam rat like me to know what I'm doing, can you?" She didn't even stop, just pushed me ahead of her and headed straight for the front door of the school. Once we were out front she slowed a bit and sighed. "Sorry about that."
"D-don't be," I chuckled.
"Is your wrist okay?" she sounded concerned. Upset, even.
"It'll b-be fine," I said, hiding the swelling under my coat. She guided the chair down the walkway in front of the school toward where Rye stood waiting for me.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, looking past me toward Katniss. All she did was huff in response and he looked down at me. "What happened?"
"N-nothing," I shook my head. He knew damn well I was lying. Katniss relayed the story to him quietly as we made our way to the bakery, and I could feel the tension in him. Delly caught up with us partway to town, panting and quietly scolding Rye for not waiting for her.
"Listen to me," Rye snapped, ignoring Delly completely. "If that assfuck turns up in the Birchfield's dump I'm gonna need a fuckin' alibi."
"Rye," I scowled at him.
"No," he pointed at me. "I'm not putting up with this bullshit. Maybe I shouldn't have dropped out. Fuck. Tell Dad I'm gonna be late." Rye veered away from us, headed toward the other end of town.
"Where are you going!" Delly called after him.
"I'm going to see Alden," he called over his shoulder. His friend from school. Rye and Alden occupied the top rungs of the social ladder in his year. The last thing I wanted was whoever was left of Rye's friends policing anyone who came near me, no matter how effective it would be.
"Dell," I looked over at her. She was frowning in the direction Rye had left, nearly jogging to keep up with Katniss' angry march. "G-go t-t-talk him out of it. P-please."
"Of course I will," Delly gave my arm a brief, affectionate squeeze before she took off running after Rye, kicking up slush behind her.
"He just wants to look out for you," Katniss said. Her voice was tight and low as she muscled the chair down the alley without even giving me a chance to get up and walk the last stretch.
"Would you w-want th-that?" I stood up when we reached the bottom of the back steps, shooting her a look as I took hold of the railing to pull myself up.
"Well, no," she frowned, tugging the seat of the chair up to fold it closed before hefting it up the stairs. I hated watching her do it. The chair didn't weigh much, but it was just another jab at my pride. I would never have stood by empty-handed while she did something like that, and holding the door open for her was a poor substitute for actually helping.
"Hey," Dad looked me over, his tone tentative, and his eyes flicked past me toward Katniss. An edge of annoyance crept into his voice. "Where's Rye?"
"He said he's going to be late," Katniss said. I could hear the frown in her voice. She stepped up behind me, her hand settling on my back.
"Great," dad sighed. "What happened?"
"N-nothing," I shook my head, tugging the sleeve of my sweater down over my wrist. It was throbbing, and I didn't need to look to know it was red and swollen.
"Peet?" The annoyance fell out of Dad's voice. I just shook my head and went up the stairs without a word. I caught Katniss shrugging out of the corner of my eye before she followed me.
"You should tell him what happened," she said softly, closing my bedroom door and leaning against it.
"Why?" I dropped down on the bed and gave her a look, setting my hand over my wrist and rubbing it through the sleeve of my sweater. "So he c-can worry and n-not b-b-be able to—d-do anything?" I shook my head, biting back a wince as I balled my hand into a fist.
"Peeta," she frowned, moving to sit next to me. She curled her fingers around my hand and pulled my arm toward her, uncurling my fingers and laying them on her knee. I bit my lip as she folded back the sleeve of my sweater. "Oh my god, Peeta." I looked down. My wrist had already ballooned up, a bruise starting to form under my thumb. "I should go get my mom, or we should get Dr. Lawrence. That looks awful-"
"Kat," I pressed my lips together and shook my head.
"But if it's broken again-"
"It w-wasn't to b-begin with," I smirked. My thumb had been dislocated with a hairline fracture in one of the bones in my arm. Neither had healed very well, and both Mrs. Everdeen and Dr. Lawrence had thought there was more to the injury than that; nerve or tendon damage, something that would account for the pain I still felt, and the severe muscle weakness. Without any equipment to examine it internally they had no way of knowing. Katniss' fingers moved gingerly over the swelling, just barely ghosting over my skin.
"Still," she frowned, leaning down and lightly pressing her lips to the bruise. I smiled to myself, the expression fading when she looked up at me. "I should've done something. I was right there. I saw him go for your chair, and I didn't even-"
I leaned in and kissed her, cutting her off. I didn't want anyone else apologizing to me for things they didn't do. Or couldn't do. Or shouldn't have done. Katniss didn't need to step in for me. She didn't need to stand up for me. I needed to stand up for myself. The fact that she wanted to was the only thing that made me feel like standing up for myself may have been a good idea. That feeling crumbled the minute she left this room, though.
Katniss raised her hand to my cheek, drawing me back into the kiss when I faltered and moved away. I wrapped my arm around her waist, letting my injured wrist lay across her lap. Her lips moved against mine slowly, and she draped her arms around my neck. I shifted, taking a chance and tightening my arm around her waist, sinking back toward my pillow and pulling her with me. She moved with me, her lips hovering against mine, and let me lay her down between myself and the wall. Katniss carefully arranged my hand against her neck, turning to kiss my wrist before turning her lips back to mine. She shifted herself closer as I pulled my legs up onto the bed, her mouth opening against mine. I took a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs, and met her tongue with mine. She whimpered quietly, the sound sucking the air from my lungs, and I leaned my body against hers, my hips tilting forward.
"Peeta," she breathed, sucking in a breath that made her lips quiver. I pulled back, my fingers twitching away from where they'd drifted to her hair.
"I'm s-s—um, I'm s-" I bit down on my lip, pressing my eyes closed. I'd pushed too far and she just wanted to get away from me. "I'm s-sorry." Katniss pulled my hat off and ran her fingers through my hair. I forced myself to open my eyes. Her smile was soft and gentle, and she kissed me again, sliding her hand around my shoulders and pulling me towards her.
"Don't be sorry," she said quietly, smiling against my lips. I eased myself toward her, deepening the kiss, letting her lead me. I didn't want to get swept up again. I didn't want to push her and ruin this. She pulled me to her and shifted onto her back. My heart jumped, and Katniss wound her fingers into my hair, deepening the kiss, her tongue snaking into my mouth. I shifted onto her, leaning on my elbow and sliding my free hand over her waist. My fingers worked under the hem of her shirt, and I pressed my palm against that soft stretch of skin just above the waist of her pants that had caught my attention so often. Soft, gentle noises leaked out of her as she wrapped her arms around me, her kisses shifting to my jaw as I murmured her name.
"C-c-can I-" I swallowed hard, trying to keep a hold on what I wanted to ask; the feel of her lips and tongue against my skin, her hands on my back, her hips tilting against mine all fighting to push the question out of my head completely. "K-Katniss—c-c-can-"
"Can you..." she supplied, her voice soft and patient, her mouth hot and wet against my throat.
"Can I—t-t-" I swallowed again, fighting against the tightening in my neck to get the words out. Katniss kissed me gently, her fingers finding their way to my hair again. "T-t-touch-"
"Yes," she cut me off, her chest fluttering with a brief, quiet laugh. I could feel myself blushing and dropped my face against the crook of her neck, smiling and pressing a kiss to her skin. I shifted my hand, looking down between us and smoothing it over her shirt. She stopped me, pushing my hand back down and tugging up the hem of her shirt. Katniss pressed my palm against her skin, and I pulled back to look at her. Her voice was a whisper. "It's okay." She lifted her mouth to mine as I moved my hand up under her shirt, my fingertips brushing against her bra. She arched her back, pressing into my hand as I cupped her breast, whimpering into my mouth. My fingertips traced the edge of her bra, shaking lightly against her impossibly soft skin.
"You fuckin' win, okay?" Rye kicked the bedroom door open. "Just trying to help, you gotta be all stubb-" He stopped short as Katniss and I scrambled away from each other.
"Rye!" Katniss snapped, tugging her shirt down as she pushed herself up to sit against the headboard. "What the fuck!" I pushed myself against the wall, faltering as I put my weight against my injured wrist without thinking. Pain shot up through my arm, and I swallowed a pitiful little whimper and drew it up against my chest. Rye was too busy laughing to notice, leaning against the door frame. Katniss let out a huff of frustration, glaring at him as she moved closer to me. "Let me see." She pulled my arm away from my chest, pressing her lips together as she turned my wrist over in her hand. I drew my knees up, hoping to hide just how much I'd been enjoying her before Rye interrupted us.
"I'm sorry," Rye wheezed, waving his hand through the air, crossing to his own bed and dropping down to sit.
"Are you seriously sitting down?" Katniss' head whipped around, her braid shifting over her shoulder. "Get the fuck out."
"Why, you gonna let him get back up your shirt?" Rye grinned. "Don't let me stop you."
"Your brother's a fucking dick," Katniss hissed through gritted teeth as she turned her attention back to me. I stared Rye down as she carefully touched my wrist and moved my fingers. He grimaced and mouthed an apology before Katniss turned my hand the wrong way, snapping my attention away and drawing a wince out of me. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm going to get my mom."
"Katniss, p-please-"
"Don't," she kissed me, lingering for a moment. "I'm getting her. I'll be back in an hour or two." Katniss kissed me again, a brief peck at the corner of my mouth before sliding off the bed and leaving the room. It was the first time she'd kissed me in front of anyone else, and I couldn't help smiling to myself. Rye watched her leave, smacking his tongue against his teeth as her footsteps receded downstairs.
"Bet that killed your boner real fast," he pushed himself back to sit against the wall. "Jumping up and yammering about her mother."
"Yeah—y-you had n-nothing to d-do with it," I frown, shifting and settling back against the wall. The throbbing in my wrist was worse after whatever I managed to do to it when I sat back up.
"Look, if I'd known—I'm sorry," Rye chuckled, rubbing his hand through his hair. "Seriously. You lucky bastard. I'd fucking love to get Delly in my bed."
"You g-get in hers," I gave him a look.
"Yeah. Door open, her little brother kicking around," he rolled his eyes. "That goes real well." I chuckled. "Is your wrist okay? I didn't see that earlier. It looks like hell."
"H-hurts like hell," I frowned.
"Rye!" Dad called from the bottom of the stairs. "Get down here, please." Rye let out an exasperated sigh, pushing off the bed and dragging himself from the room. Their footsteps crossed on the stairs, and Dad appeared in the doorway a moment later. He paused, looking at me for a moment before sighing and stepping into the room. He dropped heavily onto Rye's bed, his brow furrowing. "What happened, Peet?"
"I t-t-told you-"
"Nothing. Right," his voice was soft. Sad. It made me feel guilty. "I know something is going on at school. I just wish you would tell me." He dropped his head, rubbing his hand over his hair before leaning his elbows against his knees. When he looked up at me he looked close to tears. "Did I make a mistake, Peet? Was sending you back wrong?"
"Dad," I frowned, not sure what to say. I didn't want to be in school. Didn't want to face any of it; the ridicule, the confusion, the constant reminder I wasn't going to be the same. Ever. That nothing would be. But I knew, logically, that avoiding it all would only make my life worse. It would only make me hate myself more.
"I'm sorry," he shook his head, straightening up and leveling his gaze. "Tell me what happened. Please."
I frowned, staring down at my swollen wrist where it sat in my lap. It took me a moment to work up to it, to gather the words and put them in order. I stuttered too much, mixed up parts of it, and tried to avoid most of what had happened. Most of what they said. Downplayed other parts. I tried to play off what happened with my chair as an accident, but I could tell he didn't buy it. He swore quietly under his breath and stared out the window for a long moment, rolling his jaw.
"Lavender's going to take a look at your wrist, see if we need to take you to Dr. Lawrence," Dad sighed. "It's going to be a while until Katniss gets back with her. Why don't you get some rest?" I nodded. He stood up, stepping across the room and leaning down to kiss my forehead before he left, pulling the door closed behind him.
I didn't move. I sat and tried to puzzle out how one day could swing from so horrible to so wildly amazing. Nothing could top having Katniss in my bed like that, except maybe getting to do it again without Rye barging in on us. I could still feel her skin under my fingertips, the swell of her breast in my hand, and I did my best to block all that out when I heard her return. She came into the bedroom, hovering just inside the doorway and nodding for me to follow her to the living room.
Katniss sat beside me as her mother perched on the edge of the coffee table to examine my wrist with Dad hovering by the top of the stairs. Every time I winced Katniss tensed up beside me, though her mother seemed too focused to notice. After a few minutes she straightened up, sighing and brushing her hair back. She guessed a sprain and sent Katniss to get some ice for me out of the freezer, and my father to hunt down the brace for my wrist. Only one was immediately necessary. The other was just to get Dad out of the room.
"Peeta," she lowered her voice, squeezing my hand and waiting for me to look her in the eye before continuing. "Katniss told me what happened. And they probably didn't mean to actually hurt you today. If this bullying ever goes so far that they do, promise me you're going to tell someone." I frowned, looking down at my hand. "It doesn't have to be me or your dad. It can be someone at the school, your brother. Even Katniss. Though if you tell her I think we both know it might not end well for whoever it is behind this, and I'd rather not see my daughter arrested for assault." I chuckled quietly and she smiled, waiting for my answer.
"I w-will," I said.
"Okay," she stood as Katniss came back in to sit down beside me, armed with a dish towel bundled around some ice. I tried to take it from her and she waved me off, gently pulling my wrist toward her and pressing the ice against it. Dad returned a moment later with the brace. Mrs. Everdeen lowered her voice, leaning against the wall by the stairs as she spoke to my father. "He'll need to wear that for a while, but not until the swelling goes down. Give it until tomorrow afternoon before he puts it on. I think his wrist may just be a little weaker than I thought."
"You okay?" Katniss asked softly, turning my wrist and carefully pressing the ice against it again.
"I th-think I'll survive," I smirked. She smiled, still looking down at my hand. I wanted to know what she was thinking, and I really wanted to kiss her again before she left. Not with both her mother and my father in the room, though.
"Katniss," Mrs. Everdeen said softly. "Come on, sweetie." Katniss glanced over at her, biting down on the inside of her lip.
"See you tomorrow," she squeezed my hand lightly and I nodded, flashing a brief smile before she got up. Dad grinned as soon as Katniss and her mother moved past him toward the stairs. I gave him a look that I hoped communicated every last bit of my annoyance, and he just held up his hands in defeat before following the two of them downstairs.
Dad was up to check on me every half hour, inspecting my wrist, trying to get me to eat. I finally accepted some toast and asked for my pills for the night just to get him to leave me alone. I took both of them into my bedroom and closed the door behind me before setting them on the dresser. My pillow still smelled like Katniss' hair, and I lowered myself onto the bed, carefully avoiding my injured wrist, and pressed my face against the pillow. I wished I still had her there, tried to ignore the fact that horrible days were what led her there. Though if that was going to turn into a pattern, it at least made getting through it well worth the trouble.
I thought about the breathless way she said my name. She hadn't been trying to stop me. Had that been encouragement? I tried to hear it that way and it sent a jolt through me. Where could all of that have gone if we hadn't been interrupted? I thought of the way she felt under me, how her body had shifted against mine, and turned onto my back to ease my pants off my hips.
I ran through it in my mind. Every detail; every sound she made, the feel of her fingers in my hair, the taste of her lips and tongue. She'd lifted her hips against me. She felt me getting hard against her and didn't pull back. I curled my hand around my cock and held onto that thought as I stroked myself. Her skin had been so fucking soft and smooth under my hand. I thought about her lifting against my hand, imagined her letting me take that further, letting me pull her shirt off, press my lips to that curve. I wanted to hear the noises she'd make then, brush my tongue over that soft skin, get her to breathe my name that way again. I thought of the look on her face when she slipped my hand under her shirt and the orgasm hit me like a freight train. It caught me so off guard I nearly bit through my lip in my effort to keep quiet. I'd gotten too used to too much work for not much payoff.
It took a few minutes for the room to stop spinning and for me to catch my breath again. I sat up, yanking the towel from behind the mattress to clean myself off. I wiped it across my chest, trying not to be too impressed at my own range after months of disappointing dribbles, and shoved it back down against the wall.
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