"It's Sunday," Prim said. She frowned at me from where she sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped forward, a pitiful frown on her face. I paused in the middle of changing my shirt—for the third time—and turned to her.
"I'll be back tonight, Prim." I straightened out the hem of my shirt before frowning down at how low the neckline dipped. I usually wore something else under it.
"Sunday's our day. Where are you even going?" Prim shifted as I sat down beside her. She watched me comb my fingers through my hair, parting it before braiding it.
"I'm going to see Peeta," I said. The look on her face made my roll my eyes.
"Well, if you have a date," she said with a mischievous little grin. "I guess I don't mind waiting. Is he really your boyfriend like Madge said?"
"When did Madge say that?" I asked. Prim shrugged, a sure sign it was something she'd overheard from a conversation she likely wasn't supposed to hear. Her eavesdropping habit was getting worse as she got older. "I guess he is."
"Really?!" Prim nearly leaped to her feet in excitement. She hunched up her shoulders and slapped my arm.
"Ow! Prim!" I tied off my braid before shoving her shoulder lightly.
"I'm sorry, I'm just really happy for you," she said. "I didn't think you'd ever get a boyfriend." I narrowed my eyes at her, taking a breath to speak before it occurred to me just how accurate she was. I didn't think I'd ever have one either, but I didn't particularly want one. Peeta was a coincidence. A welcome one.
"Thanks, Prim," I said, chuckling to myself. She completely missed the edge of sarcasm in my voice, smiling at me and getting up off the bed.
"You shouldn't wear those pants, though," she said as she yanked open the bottom drawer of the dresser we shared. After a moment of rooting around inside she pulled out a pair of brown corduroys that barely fit me now that my hipbones weren't jutting through my skin anymore. "You should wear these ones instead. The last time you had them on Asa Maynard followed us home so he could look at your butt. I bet Peeta would like them, too." I grabbed the pants out of her hands and chased her out of the bedroom, my lip curling. Prim just giggled furiously at me as I slammed the door behind her. I looked down at the pants I had on, chewing the inside of my lip for a minute before heaving a sigh and changing into the pair Prim had pulled out.
"Have fun," Mom said, watching me pull on my coat. I hated the smug little smile on her face.
"Thanks," I said, tying my scarf around my neck before ducking out the front door and making my way towards town.
Peeta was sitting at the kitchen table when I arrived, talking with Rye as he cleaned out the ovens. I joined the conversation easily, standing beside the stool where Peeta sat. He flashed a smile at me; his arm slipping around my waist to pull me closer. I settled my arm around his shoulders and kissed his hair. We both realized at the same moment that Rye was staring at us.
"You guys want some privacy?" Rye smirked.
"Shut up," Peeta said, sucking in a deep breath and shifting on his stool before glancing at me. Rye raised his eyebrows, the two of them sharing a wordless exchange I had no idea how to translate. Peeta's jaw tightened, and he shook his head at Rye before getting to his feet. "Ready t-to go?"
"Sure," I said, giving Rye a confused look that he met with a wide, fake grin.
"Have fun, kiddos," he said. I glanced at Peeta, but he wasn't even looking at me, still staring daggers at Rye. Their little staring contest escalated to harsh, unintelligible whispers as I lost patience and headed for the door.
"Cut the shit," Peeta snapped before following me into the mudroom and snatching his jacket from where it hung on the wall. The two of us left the bakery with Rye chuckling in the kitchen behind us.
"What was that all about?" I asked. Peeta took my hand when I started toward the side of the building, intending to head for the square. He nodded in the opposite direction, down the packed dirt alley that led behind the row of businesses on this side of the square.
"N-nothing," he smirked, keeping close to me as we walked. "He's just been—giving me shit all d-day."
"Oh," I said, wondering exactly what kind of shit Peeta was getting from him. Peeta's hand tightened on mine when his step faltered. He leaned toward me to maintain his balance, and I gently bumped his shoulder with mine, drawing a smile out of him. "So where are we going, anyway?"
"The, um, the restaurant," he said, glancing over at me.
"Gaskins'?" I asked, raising my eyebrows a bit.
"That, um, that would be the only r-restaurant in t-town, so yes," he said, holding back a smirk.
"Shut up," I chuckled, nudging him with my elbow. He smiled, reaching up and tugging at the edge of his hat. "There are other places to eat, you know."
"Yeah, and t-the sandwich counter at th-the butcher's sounds like a great—first date," he said, drawing another laugh out of me. When did I turn into such a giggling idiot?
"Well, I've never been to either," I pointed out.
"At all?"
I shook my head.
"Ever?"
"Peeta, when do you think we had the money to go out to eat?" I raised an eyebrow. The look on his face made me regret my tone immediately.
"I've only b-been a couple of times," he said sheepishly, his eyes dropping to the ground. A faint blush crept into his face. I shifted my grip on his hand and laced our fingers together. His blush got a little deeper.
The two of us sat at a booth in the corner, away from the few other patrons out in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday. I scanned the menu, trying not to look at the prices. My mind automatically converted every set of numbers to what I'd have to drag in out of the woods to cover the meal. The fact that we had a little money hadn't trained that instinct out of me. I chose a simple dish. Not the least expensive thing on the menu; I didn't want to be too obvious. Peeta was staring at the menu, chewing the inside of his lip, and it occurred to me that I'd never seen him eat anything but pasta. I glanced at the menu where it sat on the table beside me.
"We don't have to stay if there's nothing you like," I said quietly. He snapped his attention toward me; he must not have realized I was watching him. "We can go somewhere else. Or just back to the bakery." Most of the businesses in town closed on Sundays. It wouldn't surprise me if this was the only place open.
"N-no. It's, um, it's not that," he said, dropping his eyes back to the menu.
"You don't have to pay for me," I said. "I brought my own money."
"No," he chuckled, shaking his head as he set the menu down. "It's n-not that, either."
"Then what-"
"Hey, Peet!" A tall, stocky blonde boy clapped Peeta on the shoulder before leaning his hands against the end of our table. I recognized him from school but couldn't dredge up his name. He was in Gale's year. "Rye said you were coming today. This your girlfriend?"
"Um, yeah," Peeta flashed me a hesitant smile before dropping his eyes to the menu again. He was tense, and it stopped me from truly enjoying hearing him call me his girlfriend.
"Hi, I'm Jimmie." He smiled as he turned his attention toward me.
"Katniss," I said, trying to smile back. I glanced at the apron around his waist. Was he going to be our waiter? Was he just going to hang around and make Peeta uncomfortable for the entire meal?
"Yeah, you're that girl who's always hanging out with Hawthorne, right?" he asked. I nodded. Jimmie chuckled, backhanding Peeta's arm as if they were sharing some sort of private joke. "Rye was right; she is hot."
"Don't," Peeta said, closing his eyes as a pained look crossed his face.
"I'm going to slap the shit out of your brother when we get back," I frowned down at the menu.
"He was right about the mouth on you, too," Jimmie chuckled. Peeta raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that Jimmie either didn't notice or preferred to ignore. "You guys know what you want?"
Jimmie took our menus after we ordered. Peeta had rattled off something at the last minute before passing off the menu without really looking at it. He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning forward against the table and watching Jimmie disappear into the back.
"I was, um, kind of h-hoping he wouldn't b-be here," Peeta said quietly. "He's Rye's friend. I d-don't, um, like him much." That didn't really surprise me. Rye's reputation was a little closer to Merx's than to Peeta's; it would make sense for his friends to be jerks. It had been more of a surprise to find out just how caring and protective Rye was with Peeta.
"We can still go, if you want," I said, leaning forward a bit. The table was ridiculously wide. I felt like I was a mile away from him.
"You know—if you k-keep suggesting we leave I m-might start to think you d-don't want to be here with me," he said, raising his eyebrows at me.
"I'm sorry," I cracked a smile, dropping my eyes to the table and running my hand over my braid. "I just don't want you putting yourself out for me. I kind of like just hanging out at the bakery."
"We can d-do that after," he smiled at me. The expression was contagious. I felt my cheeks flush and dropped my eyes to the tabletop as Jimmie brought over our drinks and two sets of flatware wrapped in cloth napkins. As we talked I watched Peeta fiddle with his napkin, slowly unwrapping the bundle until he was fiddling with the fork instead. It suddenly dawned on me why the menu had him so stumped. I had never actually seen him pick up a dinner knife. His grip on his fork was always shaky and awkward, as if he was afraid he'd drop it. Then there were the exercises my mother had him doing to help his grip. Every dish on the menu had one cut of meat or another as its main feature, and he probably didn't have the strength in his hand to cut it. As soon as Jimmie walked away after putting our plates down in front of us, I swapped them. The confusion on Peeta's face faded when I started cutting his pork. After I switched our plates back, he just stared at me for a minute before muttering a quiet thank you. He didn't stop smiling for the rest of the meal.
We walked back to the bakery hand in hand while Peeta playfully chided me for trying to split the bill. By the time we hit the back steps I knew my face was bright red. He stopped me at the bottom of the stairs and kissed me, cutting off what I had to say to him in retaliation. I felt like I was melting against him, and I couldn't help but wonder where this burst of confidence had come from. How was this the same boy who had hidden tears behind his hands in the back of the classroom last week?
We went inside to find the bakery dim and completely empty. The entire building was quiet as we made our way up to the second floor and down the hall to his bedroom. Rye was stretched out on his bed, glancing up from his book as we stepped into the room.
"Where's D-Dad?" Peeta asked.
"Over at the Cartwrights'," Rye said, dropping his book on his chest. Peeta nodded.
"Out," he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder toward the door.
"You know there are other rooms in this house, right?" Rye raised an eyebrow before looking me over a little too slowly. "Nice pants."
"Fuck you," I snapped, dropping down to sit on the edge of Peeta's bed.
"Get—out," Peeta repeated without moving.
"Okay, fine," Rye said, sighing and swinging his legs to the floor. "One condition, though-"
"No," Peeta snapped, staring Rye down as he got up and crossed the room. "Out."
"Hey," Rye turned toward me as Peeta stepped aside to give him room to get through the door. "Peet's got something to-" He didn't even get the entire sentence out before Peeta shoved him out the door, slamming it in his face. "Show you!"
"What do you have to show me?" I asked, smirking as Peeta crossed the room and sat beside me on the bed.
"It's n-nothing," he shook his head, blushing a bit and glancing toward the closed door. I just looked at him, waiting for him to go on. He sighed and scratched his fingers up under the edge of his hat before smoothing it back down. "Rye, um, d-dug one of my sketchb-books up out of the b-basement."
"Well, obviously I want to see," I said, kicking off my shoes and tucking my feet up onto the bed under me.
"I was—p-planning on showing you," he muttered, almost sheepishly. "He's j-just been p-pushing it all day." He ran his hand through his hair before pushing to his feet and walking to the low bookshelf against the wall by the foot of his bed. He picked up one of the notebooks sitting on top of it and handed it to me before sitting back down. It was beat up, a few of the pages loose and sticking out from the edges. "It's a little, um, older than the other one. I mean, some of it is." He chewed on his lip, watching me nervously as I flipped open the sketchbook. Some of the drawings in this were in color; paintings on thicker paper tucked into the pages of the notebook. They were similar to what I'd seen in the first sketchbook. Scenes in the bakery; drawings of the kitchen downstairs, cakes in the display cases. His friends and family. He pulled his sweater off as I looked, kicking off his shoes and picking at the fabric of his pants nervously. One of the pages was a watercolor of the canvas shoes they all wore in the bakery lined up against the wall. The drawing on the next page was of a slender girl with dark hair, her arms up as she tied her hair back.
"That's me," I stopped, setting my hand on the page. I couldn't even hide the surprise in my voice. Peeta nodded, his mouth twisted to one side in a tight smile. The girl on the page was a hell of a lot prettier than me, but I recognized my nose, my jawline, and my hair. I wondered when he'd seen me like this. Did he draw this while we sat in school? Was this from memory? I flipped through the next few pages, studying each of the drawings.
Mixed in with the drawings from his life—his father asleep on the couch, Rye and Delly sitting side by side on the edge of the worktable, his mother sitting in their office, leaning over the desk with her back to him—there were things I recognized. Myself standing in the kitchen with his father, fiddling with the strap on my game bag. Prim clutching the basket full of goat cheese she brought over to trade whenever we had some. Another drawing of me, slouched in my desk at school, frowning at a textbook. I couldn't even think of anything to say. How often did he think of me? How often did he look at me? How closely was he studying me to be able to capture these things so perfectly?
"Peeta, these are amazing," I said softly. The last page was a watercolor painting. Of me. I touched the page gently, marveling at the color and the life he captured on just a simple piece of paper. Was that beautiful girl he drew who he saw when he looked at me? I carefully tucked the page back and flipped through the drawings again quickly. "Why aren't there any of you?"
"Um, n-never really liked looking in a m-mirror that—long," he said, taking the sketchbook from my hands and leaning down to tuck it under his bed. The statement made my chest tighten, and I frowned at him. How could he not see how special he was? When he straightened up I leaned forward and kissed him. He flinched in surprise before leaning into the kiss, his arms carefully snaking around my waist. I leaned back, pulling him down with me.
I finally began to understand why Gale and Madge couldn't be around each other without constantly touching; why they took advantage of every minute of privacy they had. I couldn't get enough of Peeta's kisses. I loved the taste of his mouth and the quiet little rumble in the back of his throat when I pulled off his hat to run my fingers through his hair. I loved the cautious way his tongue ran across my lips, as if he were trying to ask permission, and how eagerly he'd deepen the kiss when I opened my mouth and gave it to him.
His hand drifted over my side; his fingers bunching up the fabric of my shirt, tugging it up until he could slip his hand beneath it. The feel of his hand flattened against my skin made my heart hammer against my ribs. I gasped softly as his fingertips grazed my bra, drawing a smile out of him that he buried against my neck. Wherever this burst of confidence came from, I loved it. His fingers curled over the top of my bra as he pressed slow kisses to my neck. I lifted to the touch, too aware of the slick heat between my legs, a tiny whimper escaping me when he tugged my bra to one side to cup my bare breast in his hand.
I pulled Peeta on top of me and turned my mouth to his. His weight on me made my head spin. The feel of his hard on pressing against me made every inch of my body flush with heat. I smoothed my hands under his shirt, over his back, shifting under him and wordlessly murmuring against his lips. He squeezed my breast gently and moved his hand to run his thumb over my nipple. His hips started to move against mine, and I had to ball my hands into fists against his back to hide their shaking.
I spread my legs, gasping against his mouth when he dropped between them, a soft moan escaping him. I could feel him against me, and it completely took my breath away. I nipped at his lips, wanting more and trying to figure out how on earth to communicate it. My hand drifted down his back and over his ass, pressing him closer to me. The pressure of him between my thighs felt too good, his hips rocking against me had me burning from head to toe.
"Peeta," I said quietly, barely conscious of it until he paused, sucking in a sharp breath. He rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed, and swallowed hard. I hadn't meant to stop him. I didn't want him to stop. I tightened my arms around him and rolled my hips the way he had been. He swore quietly under his breath.
"I, um—I'll b-be right back," he said, pecking a kiss against my cheek and untangling himself from me. Peeta all but ran from the room, leaving the door swinging open behind him. I propped myself up on my elbows, dropping back down when I heard the bathroom door slam. What had I done wrong? I straightened out my bra and smoothed my shirt back down, pressing my thighs together and trying to ignore how flushed and hot I felt. It felt like an hour before Peeta came back, though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. He gave me a self-conscious smile as he closed the door and crossed the room to lay down beside me. "Sorry."
"You okay?" I asked, turning onto my side and tucking myself up against him. He nodded, brushing his fingers through my hair and smiling faintly. The expression faded, his eyes slipping out of focus. Peeta's hand went limp against my neck. I raised my hand to his cheek. "Peet?" It took a moment, but he blinked himself back into focus and flashed a brief smile. "Are you okay?"
"I'm f-fine," he said, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him. I pressed a kiss to his jaw and tucked my arms between us, laying my head against his chest and letting him hold me. I could have spent the night there. If I hadn't heard Twain coming home and talking to Rye downstairs I would have fallen asleep. I reluctantly pulled away from him, and he sat up with me, smoothing my hair down and tucking a stray wisp behind my ear.
"Prim is probably waiting for me," I said quietly. I wanted any excuse to stay, though I knew with Twain home and the bakery closed neither of us would risk what we'd been doing.
"Okay," Peeta said. He smiled at me for a moment before leaning in to kiss me. He followed close behind me as we made our way downstairs. Peeta followed close behind me, his fingers interwoven with mine. He kissed me at the top of the stairs, and I couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter that escaped me when he stole another kiss on the way down. Rye and Twain were standing in the kitchen grinning at us when we reached to bottom of the stairs.
"Well, aren't you two the cute little couple," Twain smirked, shifting to lean against the table. Peeta sighed. I caught him rolling his eyes when I glanced in his direction. "You two have fun? Was my son a gentleman?"
"Dad," Peeta groaned, dropping his head back and staring up at the ceiling.
"Yes," I said, though I could feel my cheeks flushing and ducked my chin to hide it. I seriously doubted that what Peeta and I were doing upstairs would fall under Twain's definition of gentlemanly. It was only a matter of time before he put an end to the privacy we had up there.
"I bet he was," Rye said, earning himself a glare from both of us.
"I'm, um, I'm going to get going," I said, taking a breath and glancing awkwardly at Peeta. He nodded and followed me into the mudroom. He took my coat down from the hook and passed it to me, pulling my braid from the back after I put it on. "Thank you for today." Peeta smiled before glancing back toward the kitchen and leading me out the back door.
"Thank you for coming," he said. I just smiled and stepped closer to kiss him again. I really didn't want to leave, and the way his mouth felt against mine wasn't helping. Neither was how much I loved feeling his arms around me. After a few minutes, I reluctantly pulled away and said one final goodbye before heading home.
Peeta stayed on my mind all night. I still had homework to finish and could barely even force myself to concentrate long enough to get through it. I lost every round of cards I played with Prim. That alone earned me an annoyed huff when she finally gave up on me and retreated to the couch with a book. Her annoyance from earlier in the day seemed to be progressing to flat out jealousy. She ventured a few tentative questions as we were laying in bed that night. Whatever happiness she may have professed before I left had faded completely.
I woke in the dark of morning and snapped upright; my heart pounding, my breath ragged. I'd been dreaming about him, and there was no way I'd shake the feelings that dream had left me. I glanced down at Prim beside me, instantly feeling guilty for everything running through my head, and carefully extracted myself from bed without waking her.
I dressed quickly in the dark, tugging on a few layers and slipping out of the door in silence. The cold pre-dawn air did little to cool me off. I trekked out into the woods, hauling myself into a tree nearly a mile from the fence, and stretched my legs out along a wide bough; my back to the trunk. I'd dreamt about being under him, the way I was yesterday, with his hands on my skin and his tongue in my mouth. I could still feel him between my thighs, and I shifted on the tree limb, slinging my bow over a knot just overhead. I unbuttoned my pants, slipping my hand into them and beneath the thin cotton of my panties. I let out a slow breath. Heat swept over me as I rubbed my fingers over myself; my flesh hot and slick. I imagined him over me, the way his lips moved against mine, and tried to recreate that heady breathlessness I'd felt in his bed yesterday. I was falling pitifully short. Even with more direct contact, even with every vivid moment of that dream fresh in my mind, and the memory of yesterday, I couldn't come close.
Whatever the hell Peeta did to me, I couldn't do it to myself.
I gave up, pulled my hand from my pants, wiped my fingers against the side of them, and zipped my pants back up. I pulled my bow down and shifted to a more exposed length of the tree limb, hoping that I'd at least manage to bring in some game so this trip wouldn't be a complete waste of time. The first thing that ended up wandering into view, though, was Gale. I whistled, trying to get his attention, and he looked around in confusion until I dropped down out of the tree to the ground beside him. He startled and whirled toward me.
"Shit, Catnip," he said, blowing out a breath and chuckling. "What are you doing this far out so early?"
"Couldn't sleep," I shrugged. It wasn't entirely a lie. Gale nodded, and the two of us wordlessly picked through the woods, falling into step with each other without even trying. The ritual did little to take my mind off things. Though the frustration of my failure had all but erased the lingering heat between my legs, I still couldn't get Peeta off my mind.
"How was your date?" Gale asked as we sat down to rest before heading back to the District. We'd managed a half decent haul between the two of us, though I had every intention of forcing most of it on him before we got back.
"You know about that?" I raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him.
"Well, Prim did find her way to my house to whine about it for most of the afternoon yesterday," he chuckled.
"Was Madge there for that?" I sighed. He grinned a bit wider and nodded. "Of course." I sighed, chewing my lip and holding back a smile as I thought back through yesterday, cutting off my train of thought just short of what I'd been imagining so vividly earlier. "It was good. I had a good time." Gale nodded, pressing his lips together to hide a grin as he squinted into the rising sun. "What?"
"Nothing," he said with a chuckle.
"Are you part of that never thought I'd get a boyfriend club, too?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Actually, yeah," Gale laughed, looking over at me. "Madge, too, for that matter. We had a plan worked out and everything."
"What do you mean you 'had a plan'?" I straightened up, turning toward him.
"Well, we weren't going to just let you be alone," he said. The indignant look on my face was just making him laugh more. "You could have lived with us. Not like some weird three way thing, just so you wouldn't have to live alone. Or with your mother."
"I'm not even sixteen and the two of you had already that thoroughly given up on me?" I snapped, staring at him.
"We were just looking out for you," he shrugged. Still laughing. The bastard.
"You're a dick," I frowned, pushing up to start back toward the District. "And she's a bitch."
"We're your best friends," he said, getting up and following me as I trudged downhill. "You don't mean that." I just flipped him off, doing my best to keep my pace just a little too fast for him, making him chase me the entire way back.
The week slipped by uneventfully. Both Peeta and I managed to avoid much more than a few knowing smiles out of Madge and Delly at lunch, though I expected a hell of a lot more out of Madge. She was likely saving it for when she could get me alone. Even the jerks from town left Peeta alone. I should have been grateful for it, but as the weekend drew closer, it just made me uneasy.
As I made my way through the halls toward the front of the school I found Peeta leaning against the wall by the bathroom. He'd left class a few minutes early, and I assumed this was why. His chair was nowhere to be found, though he'd left in it. As I drew closer to him I could see him looking up and down the hall in agitation, chewing his lip so hard I was afraid he'd bite right through it.
"Hey." I stopped beside him, reaching out to touch his arm. He startled and looked down at my hand before snapping his gaze up to mine. His jaw was tense, the twitch around his eye fluttering. "What's wrong?"
"I—um," Peeta swallowed and glanced up and down the hallway. He shook his head as if to clear it, pressing his eyes closed for a moment. "I w-went in-" He cut himself off, swallowing hard again and gesturing toward the bathroom door. "And my ch-chair—it d-doesn't fit ins-inside s-so I h-h-h-" he cut himself off again, pressing his lips closed and pushing his fingers up under his hat to scratch at his hair.
"So you left it out here," I supplied, ducking my head to catch his eyes. He looked into mine, taking a slow breath and nodding. "And then it was gone when you came out?" He nodded again.
"I h-hate that I—f-fucking need it t-to b-b-begin with," he hissed under his breath, still fiddling with the blonde curls that stuck out beneath the edge of his hat.
"I know," I frowned, shifting and sliding my hand over his shoulder to his back. "I'll help you get outside, okay? At least out of this noisy hall. You can wait with Rye while I find the motherfucker that took it."
"K-Kat—don't-" Peeta slipped his arm around my waist, leaning toward me to keep his balance. It was trickier for him in the halls with so many other students rushing past. I kept my hand on his shoulder. "D-don't-"
"Don't what?" I frowned. I was livid. And I had a damn good idea of who was behind it. Merx and Verne had been a little too quick to get out of the classroom, and I'd had enough of their bullshit.
"O-over react," Peeta said, his voice getting quiet. I glanced over at him, realizing I'd been moving entirely too fast and he was struggling to keep up.
"I'm not going to overreact," I frowned, shoving the front door of the school open. Rye was standing with a small knot of his friends, Peeta's wheelchair in front of him, frowning toward the school.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded as we got closer. I just shook my head at him, letting my hand drag across Peeta's shoulders as I continued. Merx and both the Whitaker twins weren't too far off, surrounded by the rest of their shithead merchant friends.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I snapped as soon as their attention turned towards me.
"I don't know what you're talking abo-" Merx's head snapped back as my fist connected with his nose, cutting off his sniveling little voice. Gilda shrieked and darted forward, grabbing the end of Merx's scarf and trying to staunch the heavy flow of blood coming out of his nose. The rest of them took a step back, staring at me with wide eyes.
"Just leave him the fuck alone," I said, rolling my jaw and waiting for some kind of response out of any of them. I got nothing but silence.
"You bitch," Gilda snapped as I turned away. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to keep moving and looking down at my hand. My knuckles were red and starting to swell, and my hand started to throb. I shook it out as I walked back toward Peeta and Rye, earning myself a round of applause and a few hoots out of Rye's friends. Gale, Madge, and Delly had joined them as well. Peeta was just staring at me, one eyebrow raised, trying to hold back a smile.
"That was pretty hot," Alden smirked. The girl beside him rolled her eyes and slapped his arm.
"Katniss, what the hell?" Gale chuckled.
"It's about time," Madge said.
"Is, um, is your h-hand ok?" Peeta asked, pointing toward my swelling knuckles.
"I think so. I might have broken his nose." I looked down at my hand and chewed the inside of my lip for a moment. Delly started to laugh, muttering an apology and waving her hand in front of her face. I just smirked and looked back at Peeta. "You want to go?"
"P-please," he said, smirking as he scratched his hand up under the edge of his hat. I smiled, leaning down to kiss his cheek before moving to the back of his chair to push him home. By the time we got to the bakery my hand was already starting to ache. Rye got the chair inside, leaving Peeta and I standing on the back porch.
"You okay?" I asked, thinking of the look of panic on his face when I'd seen him outside that bathroom at school.
"I am," Peeta smiled at me. "You uh—you d-didn't have to d-do that."
"Please," I rolled my eyes and looked away, smiling to myself. "I know you don't like anyone making a fuss about you or causing scenes, but he had that coming before all this. I still don't get how you even hung around him."
"It's um, it's easy to—ignore when you're n-not on the receiving end," he looked down sheepishly. "I d-didn't really t-talk to him much, though." I nodded, watching him for a moment before stepping closer. I set my hand on his cheek, waiting for him to look up at me before kissing him.
"Will you be okay if I go?" I lifted my hand between us; my knuckles were red and swollen. "I should probably have my mom look at this."
"I'm fine," he said, taking my hand and gently rubbing his thumb over the tender skin.
"I'll come by early tomorrow, after hunting. Like last week. Okay?" I turned my hand around, curling my fingers around his. Peeta nodded, leaning forward to kiss me. He stayed on the porch, leaning against the rail as I left, and waved to me as I looked back before passing out of sight.
At some point during my trading I'd completely lost Gale and Madge. The Hob was busier than usual. The bitterness of winter had broken, for the day at least, and it had brought half of the Seam out of hiding. I'd been selective in my selling and trading; for the first time in months the morning Gale and I had spent hunting didn't feel like an exercise in futility. I wandered, hoping I would bump into them without having to actively search. I spotted Madge first. Her pale blonde hair stuck out like a sore thumb. She was standing with Gale and Ripper, smiling down at whatever she was holding. The way she was standing blocked whatever it was from view.
"Katniss!" Ripper snapped as soon as she spotted me. "Get over here."
"She's not going to know anything," Gale said as I approached, rolling his eyes. He reached toward Madge, who turned as I got closer. She was holding a tiny, scrawny kitten. It stretched its neck out as Gale scratched under its chin.
"About what?" I asked, glancing down at the cat before turning to Ripper.
"Some jackass left this thing on my steps," she gestured toward it, huffing and rolling her eyes. "And I want to know who, so I can bitch slap the shit out of them."
"It probably just wandered there," I said.
"Thank you," Gale said pointedly.
"Are you kidding?" Ripper lifted the kitten from Madge's arms, holding it up for us to see its rear legs. Leg. One was little more than a stump. "How far do you think this gimpy fucking thing is going to wander?"
"Don't call him gimpy!" Madge said, taking the kitten back and cradling it against her chest protectively. "He might be sensitive about it. Poor guy."
"Yeah, poor him," Ripper folded her arm around herself, frowning and looking away. She wasn't overly sensitive about her missing arm, so far as I knew. She'd had six years to adjust and didn't seem to care that the machine that had torn the limb off had become her namesake. Dad had been among the ones who pulled her out. He had carried her to town and taken up a collection for her, pitching in what little he could spare to cover the expense of the doctor. She'd only been twenty at the time. "What about me? What kind of asshole thinks that's funny? 'Hey, I've got this crippled cat. Wouldn't it be awesome if we left it with the District cripple?' Ha fucking ha." Gale snorted. Ripper punched him in the arm.
"It's kind of cute," I shrugged, taking a step closer and running my knuckles along the kitten's back. It mewled softly, leaning back in Madge's arms to look at me. Part of one ear was missing, his eyes were crossed, and he barely had half his tail left.
"He's adorable," Madge said, lifting it up to nuzzle against its black and white fur. "I wish my dad wasn't allergic."
"Isn't your house gigantic?" Ripper raised an eyebrow. "Take him anyway. They'd never cross paths." Madge laughed.
"Can he even walk?" Gale asked, smiling to himself as he watched Madge dote on the little thing.
"He's a little wobbly," Ripper shrugged. "He can't jump up on anything, and I'm pretty sure stairs are beyond his abilities, but he gets around fine."
"I'll take him," I said, before I'd even consciously gotten on board the train of thought.
"You don't even like the cat you have," Gale gave me a look.
"Oh my god, you're going to give him to Peeta," Madge said, her entire face lighting up with the statement. "Oh my god, you're so cute."
"Who?" Ripper made a face, looking between the three of us.
"She's dating one of the baker's kids," Gale said. Ripper thought it over for a moment before raising her eyebrows and smirking at me.
"Good for you. I wouldn't mind letting something other than the oven get me hot in that kitchen," she nodded, glancing over her shoulder as someone called her name. She waved and turned back to me. "Take him. But if I find any cat hair in my bread I'll come after you."
"Yeah, okay," I smirked, shooting Ripper a look before turning toward Madge to get a closer look at the kitten. He was painfully cute, his fur soft and warm. He flicked his ear and mewled when I touched the notch missing from it. He reached for my hand, curling his paw around it and staring.
"You know, she's kind of got a point. A cat in a bakery doesn't really seem like the best idea," Gale said.
"He can't jump," Madge pointed out, smiling down at the kitten and scratching his chin. "Ripper said he can't handle stairs. He can just stay on the second floor." Her eyes went wide for a moment and she looked up at me, letting out a whiny little sigh and cocking her head to one side. I knew she was seeing the same parallel I did. "Katniss Everdeen, when did you get so fucking cute."
"Shut up," I rolled my eyes, lifting the kitten from her arms. He sniffed at my hands curiously and stretched his head closer to me, his whiskers twitching. "I think he'll like you. As long as Twain doesn't kill me for this."
He didn't. When I turned up at the bakery that afternoon Twain took one look at the furball nestled in the crook of my elbow and just chuckled and shook his head.
"So is this our newest family member?" he asked, crossing the kitchen and leaning closer to take a look at the kitten. "Cute little thing."
"You don't mind, do you?" I asked, grimacing a bit. "I don't think he'll really be much trouble." I shifted the kitten so he could see the missing leg.
"Oh, that poor thing," he said, a pained look briefly crossing his face.
"What poor thing?" Rye came in from the front. His shoulders dropped as soon as he saw what I was holding. "Are you kidding?"
"No?" I held the kitten a little closer, laying my hand over its back protectively. "He's cute."
"Did you forget the part where we live in a bakery?" Rye cocked an eyebrow.
"He'll stay upstairs," Twain said, smirking at me and ignoring the annoyance on Rye's face. "Go bring him to Peeta."
"Yeah, 'cause you're not giving him enough pussy," Rye muttered as I brushed past him. I gave him a shove backward through the doorway before climbing the stairs to the second floor. Peeta's bedroom door was closed. I knocked softly and got no answer, so I opened the door gently.
He was sound asleep, curled on his side facing the wall with the blankets twisted around his waist. The kitten mewled softly and I shushed him, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me. Peeta didn't even move as I stepped toward the bed. I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders, studying the faint lines of muscle in his back and the faded scars shadowing his skin. After a moment I toed my shoes off and slipped under the blankets behind him. I set the kitten down, leaning up on my elbow to watch him wobble unsteadily on the blankets. He looked at Peeta for a moment, sniffing the air and flicking what little was left of his tail back and forth before flopping down on his side. As I pressed myself against Peeta's back, the kitten began to purr and Peeta finally started to wake up.
"Katniss?" He stretched and started to turn towards me, stopping short at the sight of the kitten. "What...?"
"I brought you a friend," I said, smiling and kissing his shoulder.
"Dad di-didn't mind?"
"Well," I propped myself up again, reaching across Peeta to pet the kitten. I nudged the little thing onto his back to show Peeta his missing leg. He just clamped his front paws around my arm and nibbled at my skin. "He has a little trouble getting around, but I didn't think you'd care about that." Peeta shifted, turning to look at me with a tight little smile twisting his mouth to one side. I smiled and kissed him, pressing against his back and winding my arm around his waist as he laid back down.
"Hey, buddy," he said, mimicking Gale's greeting for him as he held his hand toward the kitten. The kitten stared at Peeta's hand, his eyes crossing as he tried to focus, then hobbled closer, arching his back as Peeta scratched along his spine. "He's cute."
"So you like him?" I smiled to myself.
"I d-do." Peeta laid his hand over mine. I laid my cheek against his shoulders and closed my eyes; his warmth and the sound of the kitten's steady purring nearly lulling me to sleep. Peeta turned toward me, settling the kitten between us before kissing me. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I smiled, laying my arm across his waist and looking down at the kitten between us. The little furball immediately pawed at the bandage wrapped around my hand, hooking his claws into the frayed edge he'd chewed up on the way to town and tugging at it.
"How's, um, how's your hand?" Peeta asked, drumming his fingers against the mattress to distract the kitten. My bandage was immediately forgotten, his eyes went wide and he hunched down before he pounced toward Peeta's fingers. The gesture was so pathetically stunted by his missing leg neither one of us could stop ourselves from laughing.
"It's fine," I said, looking down at the bandage. "A little sore, but that's my own fault for shooting all morning."
"You p-probably should have sk-skipped that," Peeta smirked at me, and I narrowed my eyes at him playfully. He chuckled, dropping his gaze after a moment. He flipped the kitten onto its back, wiggling his fingers in the air. The kitten reached for his hand, batting at his fingers.
The door opened a moment later. Rye didn't even bother knocking. I looked back toward Peeta, rolling my eyes as I sat up. I shifted to sit behind him, leaning against the wall and draping my legs over his hip. Rye dropped down onto his bed and glared at the two of us.
"Y'know, I don't even get one pussy in my bed," Rye frowned. "And that thing is ugly as fuck."
"He's not ugly, he's cute," I said. Why was I defending that little thing?
"He's missing a leg, and he still has, like, three cat's worth of toes," he gestured toward the kitten. Peeta snorted, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. "And he's going to be fucking annoying and get into everything." Peeta glanced over at me, a sly little smile on his face, before turning back toward Rye. "What?"
"I remembered something," Peeta said. Rye's expression fell. "You always wanted a c-cat. You used to—beg for one."
"Really? That's one of the memories you didn't lose?" Rye frowned. Peeta turned onto his back, setting his hand on my leg and smirking at me.
"When we were lit-little," he gestured toward Rye. "He harped on th-that for at least a year. M-more, I think. Mom used to g-get so mad about it."
"Yeah, and my answer was always 'we live in a bakery, you can't get a damn cat'," Rye huffed. "Even Dad said it. And he didn't even fucking blink over that mangy little shit."
"You're jealous," I said, pressing my tongue between my teeth and glancing down at Peeta. The smile on his face was so genuine and sweet. I remembered what he said when we were first getting to know each other, about not being able to tease Rye anymore. He looked thrilled to have that back.
"He is," Peeta said.
"I am not," Rye snapped, pushing himself up off of the bed and stalking out of the room, all but slamming the door on his way out. Peeta and I looked at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter. I lowered myself down beside him, pressing my lips to his jaw as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. The kitten mewled quietly, stepping up onto Peeta's chest before flopping down onto its side and yawning at the two of us.
Thank you all so much for all your reviews and favorites and follows, it means a lot to both my husband and I. I swear we'll get back to responding to everyone's reviews as soon as life calms down a bit. In the meantime, if you're just dying to talk to us, stop by tumblr. I'm alonglineofbread and he's yourpeetaisshowing.