"I promised Madge and Delly I'd hang out with them today," I said, giving Peeta a look over the tray of cookie dough I was laying out.
"Why d-do you look so upset about it?" Peeta asked, smirking at me.
"Madge just wants to grill me about us," I sighed. "You have no idea how she gets."
"Us?" Peeta said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Wh-what are you going to—tell her?"
"Nothing," I said, swatting Peeta's hand away as he reached for a lump of dough from the corner of the tray.
"You could t-tell her—some things," he said, reaching for the bowl of dough instead. I didn't even bother stopping him.
"Like what?" I snapped, pulling the tray to the edge of the table. Peeta shrugged, grinning at me as he popped a piece of cookie dough into his mouth.
"He just wants everyone to know he's seen your boobs," Rye said. I whipped my head around to look at him; I hadn't even heard the customer he was helping leave, let alone step into the kitchen.
"He told you?" I turned back to Peeta, who was already blushing. "You told him?"
"He—he asked," Peeta muttered, dropping his eyes to the table and tugging at the edge of his hat. I just rolled my eyes, picking up the tray to carry it to the ovens. How much was he telling Rye and Delly about us? Was Delly telling Madge? If Delly was telling Madge, then Madge was certainly telling Gale, and Gale was completely unable to keep his mouth shut if he had something to tease me about. Did Rye's friends talk that way, too? Was that why that jerk at the restaurant acted the way he did? I slid the tray into the oven and closed the door before turning around to look at Peeta.
"Don't say things like that about us to people," I gestured toward Rye. "Especially him."
"I resent that," Rye said, pointing at me.
"Shut up," I snapped, crossing the room to Peeta as Rye returned to the storefront.
"Are you r-really—mad?" Peeta asked, looping his arm around my waist as I reached his side.
"No," I leaned against him and draped my arm around his shoulders. "But you shouldn't share... stuff like that. Details. Especially if you ever want to see them again." I smirked as I leaned in and kissed him, loving the way it felt when he smiled against my lips. He deepened the kiss briefly, pulling away at the sound of Twain's footsteps on the stairs.
"Behaving yourselves down here?" Twain smirked, looking at Peeta and I.
"Yes," I shoved Peeta's hand off my hip.
"Careful," he grinned at us, punctuating his sentence with a wink. "Try not to let him distract you too much."
"Too late," Rye called from the storefront.
"I should get going," I said, turning to Peeta and trying to stop the conversation from progressing any further. "I'm sure they're already waiting for me."
"Where are you off to?" Twain asked.
"The Cartwright's," I said, turning back to Peeta as he stood from his seat.
"Okay," Peeta kissed my cheek. He didn't seem to care that his father was still standing there. "See you tomorrow."
"Yeah," I said, glancing toward Twain as he disappeared into the storefront, sparing me any more embarrassment than I already felt. I watched Peeta climb the stairs before going into the mudroom to get my coat.
"Here," Twain stepped in as I pulled on my coat, holding out a paper bag. "Take these over there with you."
"Um, okay," I took the bag, opening the top to look inside. Cookies.
"You don't visit the Cartwrights without bringing food," Rye supplied, rolling his eyes before moving further into the kitchen and out of sight.
"We don't visit anyone without bringing food," Twain corrected.
"Well, thanks," I said, chuckling a bit.
"Have a good night, Katniss," Twain said. "I'm sure we'll see you tomorrow."
"You will," I said, turning away to hide my blushing. "Goodnight."
I slipped out the back door, pausing in the yard to look up at Peeta's window. It was dark; he'd likely fallen asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. I walked down the alley and crossed the square toward the shoe shop. I'd rarely even set foot in it before, and I wasn't entirely sure if they had any odd rules about using the front door the way the Mellarks seemed to, so I momentarily considered going around to the back.
"You must be Katniss," a round-faced blonde woman smiled at me from behind the counter as I stepped inside.
"Yeah, um. Hi," I closed the door behind me. The shop was small; little more than a chair for fittings, a set of shelves lined with boxes and shoe samples, and the counter.
"I'm Loretta. Delly's mom," she said, getting to her feet. "There was a bit of debate as to whether or not you were going to tear yourself away from your man over there to stop by."
"Oh my god," I muttered quietly, rubbing my hand over my eyes. Loretta laughed.
"You landed the best one of them. Nothing to get all flustered over," she said with a wink. "The girls are upstairs. This way." She nodded toward the doorway behind her and held aside the beaded curtain hanging there as I walked behind the counter. She led the way down a short hall toward a workroom in the back of the building. The walls were dark wood paneling, three sides of the room lined with a counter top littered with tools and parts and shoes in varying states of repair and completion. The rest of the room was occupied by a broad table covered with more of the same. It was a stark contrast to the light, open, airy kitchen of the bakery. A stocky man with ashy blonde hair looked up from from the table, lifting his chin to peer at us through the glasses perched on the end of his nose.
"This is Katniss," Loretta clapped her hands on my shoulders. "Katniss, this is my husband, Dewey."
"About damn time you turned up," Dewey said with a smirk. "Between Rye's whining, Delly's chattering and Twain's fawning, I feel like I already know you. Nice to put a face to the name." I forced a smile, unsure of how to even respond, and a little taken aback by the notion that the three of them talked about me so much. "Glad to see the surgery to remove you from Peeta's side for the night was a success."
"Ignore him," Loretta said. She steered me toward the stairs by my shoulders, saving me from needing to respond. "The girls are in Delly's room. First door on the left."
"Thanks," I flashed a brief smile, retreating up the narrow staircase to the sound of Delly's parents playfully bickering over the bag of cookies still clutched in my hand.
The top of the stairs opened up into their living room, which was dominated by a wide, broken-in couch and a hand braided rug spread across the floor. Her brother leaned out of one of the doors at the end of the hall, frowning at me for a moment and disappearing before I even managed to raise my hand and wave. I sighed and turned toward Delly's room, nudging the door open and leaning in. Madge was sitting on the floor with her back to the bed; Delly sat in a chair by her desk. The two of them looked up as I stepped into the room.
"Oh, speak of the devil," Delly smiled as I stepped into the room, tugging my coat off and draping it over the end of her bed. They'd been talking about me. Perfect.
"Hi," I said, forcing a smile before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry about my parents, they're so embarrassing," Delly hunched up her shoulders, a pained look crossing her face. "Did they say anything about Peeta? I told them not to. Ugh, I'm sorry."
"They were fine," I said.
"So, how are things going?" Madge asked, dropping her head back on the bed too look up at me.
"What do you mean?" I looked down at her skeptically.
"With Peeta!" she said. "I'm guessing they're going well since I never see you anymore."
"You see me every day," I scoffed. She just rolled her eyes.
"Sitting with you at lunch doesn't count. You never hang out with us anymore," Madge slapped my leg. "I told you that you'd turn into one of those girls who gets a boyfriend and forgets everyone else." Delly giggled quietly, cutting herself off when I shot a glare in her direction.
"I work," I said, shoving Madge's head to one side.
"I bet you do," she laughed, trading smiles with Delly before lifting herself up onto the edge of the bed to sit beside me.
"Why are you smiling like that?" I narrowed my eyes at her before turning to Delly. "Why are you smiling like that? What else did he tell you?"
"Hang on," Madge held up her hand and turned to Delly. "'What else'? How are you getting inside information that I'm not?" Delly stammered for a minute, her eyes going wide as Madge and I stared her down.
"All I know is that she took her shirt off for him!" she said, hunching her shoulders and holding up her hands defensively. "He didn't tell me anything else, and he was really telling Rye that to begin with. I was just sort of there and maybe egging him on a little. Or a lot."
"You took your shirt off?" Madge turned to me. I just tightened my jaw and stared at her. "When was that?"
"I don't know. A little while ago?" I looked away, unable to even keep looking at her. She may have been more than comfortable with telling me all about what she and Gale got up to when that was still new for them, but I didn't share the feeling. "It's none of your business, anyway."
"How long ago? You've gone further than that, right?" Madge pressed on. I folded my arms over my chest, but the color I felt rising to my cheeks gave me away. "Have you already had sex with him?"
"No!" I snapped, turning to glare at her.
"Well, have you gone down on him?" she asked.
"Have I—what?"
"You know," Delly supplied. "Had him in your mouth. Used your finger and stuff." I stared at her for a moment before looking back to Madge.
"Have you sucked his dick yet?" she clarified, cutting her eyes toward Delly.
"Oh my god, no," I said, hugging my arms around myself.
"Has he gone down on you?" Madge asked.
"That's way more fun," Delly interjected.
"No," I said, taking a breath and shaking my head, avoiding their eyes.
"So what have you done?" Madge said, nudging my leg with her toe. I had to fight back the urge to slap it away. I knew I shouldn't have agreed to hanging out with these two. "Has he made you come?"
"Will you stop?" I cut my eyes toward her. That one didn't need clarifying. He hadn't, and I wanted him to. I didn't even know how to bring it up, but he wanted to talk about new things before doing them. Unless he was the one to bring it up we probably wouldn't do anything new ever again.
"Ooh, annoyed and refuses to answer," Madge looked over toward Delly. "That's a no. A no she's not happy about." I just let out a sigh, wishing I hadn't come. She grinned at me, waiting for me to turn back to her before speaking. "So you got him off, then, huh?"
"Oh my god, will you please stop?" I shifted uncomfortably, crossing my legs and hunching my shoulders forward. I just wanted to disappear; this conversation was only going to get worse.
"Come on," she gave me a look. "I want to know! I told you everything about me and Gale."
"Against my will."
"Delly tells me all the weird shit Rye does to her," she gestured toward Delly.
"It's not weird," Delly protested, laughing as her cheeks flushed.
"The underwear thing is weird," Madge rolled her eyes.
"What underwear thing?" I asked, looking over at Delly. She opened her mouth to answer, and Madge cut her off.
"No! No details about her pervert boyfriend until you spill it about yours," Madge said.
"Peeta is not a pervert," I snapped. Neither of them flinched, just continued watching me with twin expectant smiles on their faces.
"Come on!" Madge slapped my leg. I jerked away from her with a frown.
"Fine!" I snapped. "I—y'know, touched him. Through his pants."
"You made him come that way?" Madge asked, grinning ear to ear.
"Yes," I huffed, looking away. "He didn't even like it."
"What do you mean he didn't like it?" Delly asked, scrunching up her nose.
"What the hell did you do to that poor kid?" Madge laughed.
"I just—y'know," I gestured awkwardly with my hands, miming the motion. "Touched him. And he freaked out about it."
"Obviously he freaked out," Madge rolled her eyes. "You were grabbing his junk. That's like a dream come true."
"No," I sighed, getting more exasperated by the second. "He—ugh—just forget it." Delly burst into a fit of giggles, pressing her hands over her face. Madge and I stared at her as she struggled to compose herself.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped. "It's just—you must have scared the hell out of him. He's really not too good with new things now."
"He wants to talk about new things before we try them," I said, absolutely hating the whine in my tone.
"Oh, you mean he wants to have a normal, healthy sex life?" Madge mused. "I can see how that would be a problem for you, Everdeen."
"Shut up," I rubbed my hand over my face. "It's not a problem. I don't even know what I'm doing. How the hell do I talk about it?"
"Well, what do you want to do?" Delly asked.
"I don't know," I snapped. Even if I did, I wasn't about to admit it to her. Or even to Madge.
"Well, we already figured out you want him to return your little favor," Madge said. "Tell him that. Tell him how."
"I don't know how," I blurted out. The look on Delly's face made me regret it instantly.
"You mean you've never..." she trailed off.
"Katniss doesn't believe in self-exploration," Madge smirked. Delly's eyes got even wider.
"I don't see the point," I said, rolling my jaw.
"Well, you wouldn't be having this problem if you saw the point, would you?" Madge retorted.
"Oh, fuck you," I rolled my eyes.
"Don't get all huffy with me over your own dumb hangups," she said. "Just tell him what you want, and let him figure out the rest."
"It's not like he can't ask Rye for advice," Delly shrugged.
"Do not let him take advice from that weirdo," Madge said. Delly let out an indignant little huff.
"Just because he's not boring like Gale doesn't mean he's a weirdo," she said.
"Gale is not boring," Madge said. "Your boyfriend has problems."
"He does not!" Delly laughed.
"Hi, still here, guys," I said, cutting off whatever Madge was about to say. She shook her head subtly, cutting her eyes at Delly before turning back to me.
"Just tell him he owes you an O," she shrugged.
Peeta was sound asleep when I let myself into his room. Buddy lifted his head to blink at me, stretching his front paws out over Peeta's legs. I closed the door quietly behind me and crossed the room, toeing off my shoes to slip between the sheets and press against his back. He shifted, turning toward me and stretching his legs. Buddy mewled indignantly at being dislodged and picked himself up, glaring at the two of us before picking his way across the bed and thumping to the floor.
"Hey," Peeta smiled, his voice thick with sleep.
"Hi," I said as he scooped an arm around me, pulling me closer. I closed my eyes, letting his warmth envelop me. I pressed a kiss to his shoulder and closed my eyes, nuzzling into his neck. We dozed together for a while, the sun fading and the room darkening around us. Peeta's hands moved over my back, slowly working my shirt up and pressing against my bare skin. He angled himself toward me, his bare leg slipping out from beneath the sheets. My heart pounded at the realization that he was wearing nothing more than his boxers. His lips found my neck, sending a wave of heat through me. I shifted, acutely aware of the feel of his body against mine; the way his hips pressed forward, and his hands smoothing over my bare skin.
"Peeta," I said softly, combing my fingers into his hair and turning my head to kiss him. He murmured against my mouth. My nerves were on fire, and I kept thinking about what Madge said. About Peeta's need to talk about new things. I didn't want to talk. My throat locked up at the idea.
"W-what is it?" Peeta broke away long enough to get the question out before kissing me again. He dragged his lips to my jaw, nipping at my skin.
"Maybe, um," I swallowed hard, pressing my eyes closed. "We could, um—You could, ah-" Just spit it out, Katniss.
"You s-sound like—me," he said, grinning against my neck.
"We could, um-" my voice caught in my throat as he shifted on top of me. "Do a little more?"
"What d-do you have in mind?" he asked. His voice was low and throaty and entirely too sexy for me to form a coherent response. I let my legs fall open instead, pulling at his waist as he kissed me. I gasped at just how much of him I could feel against me, and how hard he was already. He rolled his hips on mine, and a soft moan leaked out of me. "More of th-that?"
"Yes," I breathed, wrapping my arms around him. Peeta smiled, lowering his mouth to mine and grinding his hips slowly. It felt so good—too good—and I lifted into the motion as he fumbled with the buttons on the front of my shirt. His lips never left my own.
He gave up on the buttons halfway down, tugging my shirt to one side and slipping his hand into my bra. I pressed my hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer, my fingers sliding under the waistband of his shorts. Peeta moaned against my mouth, shifting his angle and squeezing my breast in his hand. I spread my legs further, trying to get that perfect friction he'd started with back.
"Oh my g-god," Peeta muttered, burying his face against my neck and swearing softly. I raised my knees, capturing his hips between my thighs and using them to guide his movement. I knit my fingers into his hair, pressing my lips to his temple. His hips bucked forward, drawing a high, sharp moan out of me. I could feel something building; a hot, perfect tension that made it hard to breathe. Peeta's hand drifted down my side, coming to rest on my thigh. I could feel my voice vibrating in my throat, but every ounce of my attention was focused on the feel of Peeta's erection rubbing against me and the impossible heat it was spreading through me. He drew in a sharp breath, his movement slowing.
"Don't stop," I said, pulling at him and lifting my hips. There was a desperate edge in my voice I didn't recognize.
"K-Kat," he chuckled, nuzzling against my neck. "Q-quiet."
"I'm sorry," I breathed, rolling my hips against him. "That just—it felt good."
"I know," he smirked, moving with me and saving that feeling from vanishing completely. I tilted my hips toward him, barely holding in my gasping. Peeta kissed me as a soft moan leaked out of me, and I slid my hands down his back, grabbing his ass and pushing him against me. I broke away from the kiss, pressing my head back against the pillows. This was what I had wanted. This was the feeling I couldn't get for myself. I pressed my eyes closed, clinging to Peeta and moving with him, barely conscious of his shushing, and vaguely registering his nervous laugh against my skin. Then my world shattered.
Every muscle in my body contracted at once. I hunched up against Peeta, crying out and burying my face against his shoulder. My legs trembled, my hands balled into fists against his back, and warmth flooded through me as the room swam back into focus.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
"A-are you—okay?" Peeta asked, smoothing his hand over my hair as I laid back. My limbs suddenly felt weak and useless. I struggled to catch my breath. Peeta's movement had ceased, though he still lay flush between my thighs. "K-Kat?"
"Yeah? Yes, um," I forced myself to take a slow breath and look him in the eye. The concern etched on his face dragged a bubble of laughter out of me I couldn't even control.
"Wh-why are you laughing?" he frowned, chuckling nervously after a moment. "What j-just—happened? What's so f-funny?"
"Peeta," I buried my face against his neck, unable to look him in the eye and say it out loud. "You made me come."
"I—what?" he said, jerking back. "K-Katniss—they h-heard you out in th-the Seam. My d-dad's gonna—kill me." The look on his face was rapidly approaching frantic, and that was the last thing I wanted for him. I wanted him on the same page as me; relaxed and warm and content. And I wanted to get him there quickly.
"He's not home," I slid my hand to the back of Peeta's neck, pulling him back and kissing below his jaw. Even if Twain was downstairs, I felt too good to even care. I smiled against his skin. "It's okay."
"Are you s-sure?" Peeta swallowed, the muscles in his throat shifting under my lips. "You were s-so—loud. And the way you were m-moving. It—scared me. I th-thought I'd hurt you."
"Well, it felt really good," I chuckled, smoothing my hands over his back. "Really good. That's nothing to be scared of." I began to kiss him slowly, shifting him beside me. He whimpered against my mouth. I reached between his legs, moving just enough to slide my hand over the front of his boxers. I had to fight the temptation to slip my fingers inside. That was too new. We didn't discuss it. And judging from the panicked expression that was still on his face—his eyes pressed closed, brow knit together, and his lower lip trembling—he'd had enough new for one afternoon. He was hard beneath my hand. I could feel him better through the linen of his underwear than I did through his pants the last time. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah," he nodded, taking a shaky breath. I kissed his hair as he buried his face against my neck, his breath hot against my skin. I curled my fingers around him, stroking his length.
"Does that feel good?" I asked softly, nuzzling against his hair. Peeta nodded, his breath quickening, and a gentle moan vibrating against my skin. He shuddered, his hips pitching forward into my hand. I murmured quiet encouragements, my heart still pounding in my chest. My thumb slipped into the fly of his boxers, and the heat of his flesh made my breath catch in my throat. I kept moving, closing my hand tighter around him. He grunted, his hand clenching against my side, pumping toward me as he came. I felt it; hot and wet against my hand, and looked down nervously as he shifted away from me. That was a practicality of this I hadn't exactly expected. I knew, obviously, what would happen. I just hadn't actually thought about the reality of it.
"Sh-shit I'm—sorry," Peeta said, reaching over me and wedging his hand between the mattress and the wall. He produced a small, ratty-looking towel and quickly wiped my hand before turning away from me to clean himself.
"Oh my god," I gaped at him. He turned toward me again, frowning at the look on my face. "That's what that's for? I don't want to see that thing! Put it away! Oh my god you touched me with it. That's disgusting!"
"You—what?" Peeta's expression dropped, his face flushing immediately. He leaned over me to shove it back where it came from.
"That fucking towel?" I pointed toward the wall. "Your sister in law cleans that. I've cleaned that. Oh my god, Rye has one." I shook my hands and pressed them over my face, muffling a cry of disgust. "And your dad. Oh my god." I curled up on my side, the contentment I'd felt just a few moments ago completely wiped out. Peeta snorted, prying my hands away from my face. That asshole was laughing at me. I glared at him.
"Y-you mean Darla knows? Oh f-fuck," he let out a gusty sigh. "H-how am I—going to even l-look her in the face anymore. But—wh-what did you th-think that was—for?" he asked, blushing furiously, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
"I don't know," I snapped. "I didn't think about it." I jerked my hands away from him and he laughed again, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him. I let him, burying my face against his chest before muttering, "you're all disgusting."
Eventually I had to pry myself out of bed. I didn't want to leave, and resented the long walk home I still had ahead of me. Peeta got up with me, stopping in the bathroom as I went into the kitchen to wash my hands. We walked downstairs together, grateful to find that Twain was still out. Peeta kissed me on the back porch, watching me leave until I was out of sight.
I couldn't stop replaying it in my head. I could still feel it; the warmth tingling through my arms and legs hadn't quite subsided. As much as I hated to admit Madge had been right, she was. If I'd managed to do that to myself, I most certainly would see the point of trying. Even Delly and Rye's complete inability to keep their hands to themselves was starting to make sense to me.
How much better would it be to go further? Where would we even take it? Less clothing, obviously. I wanted to feel Peeta's skin on mine, not just under my hands. I wanted to see what he looked like, not just feel it.
I'd touched him this time, though. Actually touched him. The idea made my heart catch in my throat. His flesh and been so hot and surprisingly soft. I felt my face flushing immediately and hoped I'd remain blissfully alone on the walk home. If I ran into Gale he'd know immediately that I'd been up to something and pester me until I just blurted it all out. I couldn't remember whether he'd mentioned any plans that would put him in town this afternoon, and it was later than he'd usually be out hunting.
It wasn't until I was nearly home that I realized I still had to face my mother. And Prim. They'd know something was off. They'd know I was acting weird, or that I felt different. Mom would demand an explanation, and I couldn't just plead not feeling well and hide in my bedroom. Having a healer for a mother had far fewer perks than anyone would be led to believe. I flashed a brief smile when I walked in the door and turned my back to Mom as I took my coat off, willing myself to just calm the fuck down.
"Did you have a good day?" she asked.
"Mhmm," I said, setting my books down. She turned away from the stove, an odd look on her face that I didn't like one bit.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" she said, cupping one hand under the spoon she held to catch the drips. I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. She nodded back at me before turning back to the stove. "Set the table, please. This is nearly done."
"Sure," I wiped my sweaty hands on the side of my pants and moved to the cabinets. I suffered through dinner the best I could, opting to keep relatively quiet to keep myself from betraying my frayed nerves. I still felt just as hot and flushed as I had in Peeta's bed, and that alone made it hard enough to think of anything else.
"Did Twain have a chance to speak with you?" Mom asked as we were finishing. I looked up at her. No, Mom, no he didn't. Because I was too busy getting off with his son.
"Um. About what?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.
"We'll be eating dinner with the Mellarks tomorrow night," she said, reaching for Prim's empty plate.
"Really?" Prim asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We are?" I asked. Of course. She'd gotten wind of Peeta and I having so much time to ourselves and was dead set on embarrassing the habit right out of us. Doing it by herself wasn't enough, she had to shame us in front of Twain, Rye, and Prim now, too. And I had no doubt that somehow Twain would catch wind of what went on today, tell her immediately, and then it would be all over.
"Yes," Mom looked at each of us. "Twain thought that since our families have spent so much time working together, it would be nice to bring everyone together without work as the reason. And I agree." No hint at wanting to speak to Peeta or myself; no vague threats. Maybe this dinner would be safe.
"That's dumb," Prim rolled her eyes.
"Primrose," Mom scolded, frowning at her. "I think you can manage the dishes yourself tonight, if that's how you feel."
"Mom!" she protested. Our mother just held up her hand, silencing anything else Prim had to say.
"I think I'm just going to go to bed," I blurted out, eager to get away from the table and have a bit of privacy. "I'm exhausted."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Mom said, standing as I did.
"I'm fine, Mom," I said, pushing my chair back in before crossing the room.
"You've just been working long hours," Mom said, stepping away from the table. "I don't want you getting sick."
"Oh my god, Mom. I said I'm fine," I snapped, shooting her a look before shoving my bedroom door closed a little harder than I meant to, grateful to finally be alone with my thoughts.
"I still think this is dumb," Prim huffed as we made our way to the bakery after school. Peeta had gone home two classes ago, leaving the two of us to walk to the bakery on our own.
"Stop it, Prim," I rolled my eyes. I wasn't particularly interested in the entire affair either, but I had the common courtesy to keep quiet about it. How was I supposed to sit beside Peeta in front of both of our families after yesterday? Lunch today had been awkward enough.
"No," she snapped, glaring at me. "He's your boyfriend. I shouldn't have to spend time with him and his stupid family."
"Do not call the Mellarks stupid," I turned toward her. "You are not this much of a brat. Knock it off."
"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. "I was supposed to spend today with the Hawthornes. You know, like you used to before you got a stupid boyfriend."
"Stop saying 'stupid'," I snapped. "You sound like a whiny six year old."
"Fine," Prim snapped, falling in line behind me as we climbed the steps to the bakery. She shucked her coat in the mudroom, shoving it into my arms and leaving me to hang it up. I didn't even have it in me to argue and just hung it beside my own before following her into the kitchen.
"You're hogging my sister," Prim said, crossing the room and pulling out a stool at the worktable to sit down. She raised her eyebrows at Peeta, her mouth pinched into a tight little scowl. "I don't like it."
"I—um, I'm sorry?" Peeta said, looking over at me. I just rolled my eyes.
"Prim, don't," I sighed.
"She really is here all the time," Rye interjected, moving the tray of cookies he was frosting from the counter to the table beside Prim.
"See, even he thinks so," she said, leaning forward to sneer at me before turning to Peeta again. "She's my sister. What do you two even do over here every day?" Rye snorted, and both Peeta and I stared at him, willing him to keep his damn mouth shut. "And it's not bad enough you're just always here," she continued. "You're always talking about him. You talk about him to Mom, and Madge keeps asking me all of these stupid questions about you guys when I see her at the Hawthorne's. You even say his name in your sleep."
"She does?" Rye's face lit up and he stopped what he was doing, turning to face Prim.
"Yes," she huffed. Peeta glanced over at me, a pleased little smile on his face. I pressed my lips together, ducking my chin to hide the blush I felt rising. That was news to me. God knows what else I'd said in my sleep, given the direction my dreams had been heading.
"That's terrible," Rye said. The patronization in his voice went right over Prim's head. "Tell me more."
"She's always sighing and smiling when she does it, too," she rolled her eyes. Rye grinned, looking over at Peeta and I as he wordlessly held a cookie out in front of her. She accepted it without even breaking stride. "And she's way too happy about him having his own room. That doesn't sound very fun to me."
"Me neither, Prim," Rye smirked, turning his attention back to his work. "You know, you should come over more often. You can hang out with them upstairs and try to make things less boring."
"No, she shouldn't," I said.
"Really?" Prim glanced at him.
"Yeah," he said.
"No," I frowned.
"You can see her more," Rye said. "And tell me all about how annoying she is at home."
"She's so annoying," Prim said, picking the frosting off of the top of the cookie with her finger. "It's awful. At least when she hangs out with Gale and Madge I still get to see her. And she's not all weird about it."
"Prim, stop," I sighed. Peeta looked caught between embarrassed and amused, looking from me to Prim and back. I shook my head, lifting a tray of rolls from the table and carrying it into the storefront to stock the cases.
"Makes me wish I had a daughter," Twain smirked at me, glancing up from his book. He sat on a stool behind the register, one foot up on the shelves below the counter. I had to physically stop myself from rolling my eyes. "I'll make sure she comes upstairs once your mother gets here. Keep her out of your hair for a while, at least."
"Thanks," I smirked. Mom was due to arrive shortly; after her time with Peeta before we'd arrived she'd gone to see Dr. Lawrence. Once she got back, Rye and I would be handling the evening rush on our own while she and Twain got dinner ready upstairs. He seemed pleased about the prospect. Sit down meals seemed to be a rarity in this house, though I certainly understood why. The bakery still needed to be run, and eating after closing every night was impractical. I was already starting to get hungry, and I knew I wasn't going to make it to 8 o'clock without something to eat.
I retreated back to the kitchen and tried to ignore Prim's whining as I continued working. It was late enough in the day that there wasn't much to do to keep me occupied. I was grateful that it didn't take long for Mom to turn up with a neatly wrapped parcel from the butcher tucked under her arm. As promised, Twain whisked Prim upstairs with the two of them, much to my relief.
"You two gonna be able to keep your hands to yourselves?" Rye smirked. "I doubt the good Dr. Everdeen would stay quiet if she caught wind of even a fraction of what you two have been up to. And if you think Dad wouldn't be a thousand times worse, you're wrong."
"What do you know about what we've been up to?" I turned toward Peeta, who pressed his lips together and looked away.
"He didn't say a word," Rye chuckled. "But I'm pretty sure half the District heard your little performance upstairs yesterday." I snatched a wet rag from the table, whipping it across the room at him. Rye cackled ducked out into the storefront. The rag hit the wall he'd been standing in front of with a wet smack.
"Is sh-she really that upset?" Peeta asked, getting up off of his stool to help me with the prep work. "Prim, I mean—not your m-mother." I smiled to myself at the gesture, wanting to point it out but afraid to make him feel self-conscious. He rarely did anything in the bakery without careful prompting and persuasion.
"She's just jealous," I shrugged, passing Peeta the ingredients to be mixed one at a time. "She's still not used to me doing anything but going out to hunt or hanging out with Gale and Madge. I was almost always home. She'll get over it." Peeta frowned, seemingly unconvinced. I leaned against the edge of the table and watched him, letting him take over the work for himself. He only hesitated briefly, chewing on his lip before covering one container and moving on to fill another. I glanced over my shoulder to see Rye standing in the doorway, a faint smile on his face as he watched Peeta. His smile broadened when he caught me looking at him, and he disappeared back into the storefront as the bell over the door rang.
Peeta finished the rest of it on his own, glancing over at me with a pleased smile on his face as he sat back down. I stepped forward and kissed him, looping my arms around his shoulders and hoping to show what I didn't quite know how to say. That was huge, and in a weird way, I felt proud. Peeta turned toward me, sliding his hands around my waist and pressing his lips to mine. I draped my arms around his neck, leaning into him and tangling my fingers in his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hand slipped beneath the back of my shirt, sending a shiver through me that made us both smile.
"That's what I'm talking about, idiots," Rye said, startling both of us. Peeta and I all but jumped away from each other. He ran his hand through his hair, clenching his jaw and glaring at Rye. "Don't do that."
Peeta and I headed upstairs shortly before closing. The work was done, the kitchen clean, and even he was hungry. The smell of whatever was cooking upstairs had been driving us both crazy for the past hour, and we all but chased each other to the second floor. Prim was in the living room, sitting on the couch and dragging a piece of string across the cushions for Buddy to chase. Twain poked his head out of the kitchen as we sat down.
"Where's Rye?" he asked, glancing toward the stairs.
"Downstairs," I said. Twain had changed for dinner, and it was the first time I'd seen him in anything other than the worn t-shirts and faded corduroys he wore in the bakery every day. He looked nice. I couldn't help but wonder if that was typical for sit down meals; an event that seemed so rare in their house it didn't surprise me I hadn't once seen it happen.
"Why don't you kids go sit, dinner's about ready," he nodded toward the kitchen as he crossed the room, moving down the first few steps to yell down to the first floor. "Rye! Get up here, please."
Peeta led the way into the kitchen, his fingers curled around mine. I snatched my hand away when I caught Prim staring down at the gesture, glaring at her and willing her to keep her mouth shut. I sat down beside Peeta; Prim across from the two of us. Rye slumped into the kitchen and dropped into the chair at the head of the table, only to be shoved out of it by Twain as he crossed the room to help my mother serve dinner. Conversation was light and stilted, punctuated by the scrape of silverware over the plates as we ate.
"This is pretty damn good," Rye said, glancing toward my mother.
"Watch your mouth," Twain snapped.
"I wish I could accept the compliment," Mom said, unfazed by Rye's cursing. "But your father did the cooking."
"Oh," Rye nodded. "Then I take it back." Peeta chuckled quietly. Twain just rolled his eyes.
"Mom told me you were a good cook," Prim said, "but I didn't believe her."
"Well," Twain smirked, looking down the table toward my mother. "Thank you. I think." Rye and Peeta traded barely stifled grins, and I got the distinct feeling there was a part of this conversation I was missing out on. I looked to Peeta, hoping for an explanation and finding nothing. I watched him for a few minutes, all but ignoring my own dinner. Seeing him side by side with Twain like this, I couldn't help but notice just how similar they both were. I could easily see Peeta growing into exactly the same man his father was, and the thought made me smile.
The rest of dinner went smoothly enough, though I could see fatigue creeping in on Peeta. School hadn't been easy on him that day, and he'd spent most of his afternoon helping me downstairs. He had to have been exhausted. I set my hand on his arm when he started to get up to help clear the table, cutting him off and getting up to help Rye with it myself.
"Rye, why don't you take Prim downstairs," Twain said after the table had been cleared. "Help her make something to take home tonight."
"Sound good to you?" Rye turned toward Prim, flashing me a brief smirk before looking at her.
"Really?" Prim smiled, her face lighting up when Rye nodded. I sat back down beside Peeta, eying the two of them suspiciously.
"Come on," he nodded toward the stairs. Prim leapt to her feet, following him out of the room. "You can tell me more about how terrible and annoying Katniss is."
"I'm going to break his nose next, okay?" I said quietly to Peeta as Rye and Prim retreated downstairs. He laughed quietly, reaching for my hand under the table and squeezing it before we both moved to get up.
"Sit back down," Mom said, leaning forward and laying her forearms across the table. "There's something we have to talk to the two of you about."
My heart leapt into my throat. This was it. She knew. She knew what we were getting up to, and so did Twain, and that nightmarish embarrassment she'd put Peeta and I through on her own wasn't enough. Now we were going to get it from both of them. I looked over at Peeta, my eyes wide, and he just gave me a confused shrug, the panic I was feeling mirrored in his expression.
"Don't look so terrified, guys. Nobody's in trouble," Twain winked at us. Peeta glanced over at me, his expression telling me exactly what I was afraid of. He knew. Mom got up from her chair, moving to sit down across from Peeta.
"We may have worked things out so that you will be able to progress with your class at school," Mom said, quelling my panic almost immediately. "And it's something you'll have to help with quite a bit, Katniss, so we wanted to talk to both of you about it."
"I d-don't have to—stay back?" Peeta asked with a cautious hope in his voice.
"You may not need to," Twain said, smiling at Peeta.
"It took a bit of bargaining with one or two of your teachers," Mom said, smirking a bit. I knew exactly which of them would have taken the most bargaining. Peeta muttered Capps' name under his breath, echoing exactly what I was thinking. "But if you get back to a full day's class schedule before the end of the year, and can pass the same final exams the rest of your classmates will be taking, you can move ahead to the next grade along with them."
"That's great." I looked over at Peeta, expecting to see the same sort of relief the idea made me feel. Being held back would only make things harder for him. New classmates, new ridicule, a new reason to be singled out on top of the ones he already had to deal with. He looked far from relieved.
"I d-don't want to go back—next year," he said quietly, glancing at his father before dropping his eyes to the table. I reached for his hand again, weaving our fingers together under the table. My mother shifted in her chair, pressing her lips together and glancing from Peeta to Twain.
"I'd like you to finish school, Peeta," he said, leaning forward onto the table and lacing his fingers together. "I know it's got to be frustrating with Rye dropping out, but you're a hell of a lot smarter than he is. It's important-"
"Important?" Peeta snapped, snapping upright in his chair. "Important for-for wh-what?"
"Peet," Twain began.
"No! What am I g-gonna—do? I'm n-not going t-to work," Peeta cut his father off, squeezing my hand. I squeezed back, trying to get his attention without interrupting him. "I c-can't do any f-f-ucking bakery work. N-no one—no one's g-going to hire the k-kid with the fucked up head. Wh-what's the point, Dad? Wh-why am I even b-bothering?"
"Please watch your language," Twain pleaded, his jaw tightening. Mom reached across the corner of the table, setting her hand on his forearm.
"Twain, it's fine," she said softly, deflating the tension in his shoulders.
Twain sighed, looking down at his hands and clenching his jaw. He glanced up at my mother, his expression pleading for help. She pressed her hands against the table, looking to me. She nodded toward Peeta pointedly, trying to get me to handle this. I wasn't the adult in the room. I wasn't the parent. I scowled at her for a moment before turning toward him.
"You just did the prep work for tomorrow yourself," I said, trying to keep my voice soft. I hadn't seen anger out of him in a long time, and it was unnerving.
"You helped," he snapped, looking away.
"I really didn't, though," I chuckled, pulling his hand into my lap in an effort to turn him toward me. "You did that. No one even asked you to. No one helped you. I got everything out of storage. That was it. Don't say you can't do bakery work, because that's not true."
"Doesn't ch-change school," he said, the fire gone out of his voice. Twain flashed me a relieved smile.
"I know you're tired of hearing it," my mother said. "But you're not a lost cause. You're different; you're not dead. You can't just let your life grind to a halt." Peeta sighed, looking over at me.
"She kind of has a point," I said quietly, hunching up my shoulders.
"You're s-supposed to b-be on my side," he muttered, holding back a smile. I laughed briefly, looking down at where our hands were clasped beneath the table. Peeta rubbed his thumb over my knuckles, and a few moments of silence passed.
"I think you can easily do this, Peeta," my mother said, keeping her voice soft. "I know you're reticent about school in general, but this is well within what you could realistically accomplish."
"I h-haven't even t-taken a-any tests since I—started school again," he said, snagging his lip between his teeth and biting down.
"Katniss will make sure you're prepared," Mom said, giving me a pointed look when I snapped my head towards her. "Won't you?"
"Of course I will," I said quickly. I hadn't even realized that was being questioned. Peeta gave me a grateful smile when I turned back to him.
"Good," Twain nodded in approval, slapping his hand against the table. "Glad that's settled. I think you can count on spending more time tutoring than baking until the end the school year, Katniss. The sooner you start the better. Tomorrow, I should think."
"Great," Peeta muttered. I glanced over at him, wondering if he'd even realized we'd been handed an excuse to spend even more time alone together.
Apologies for the single update this week. For those of you not on tumblr, real life threw a few wrenches in our publishing schedule. We'll be back to our usual Monday/Friday updates starting next week, though. We do occasionally post announcements, as well as share fanart and answer questions relevant to the story over there, so don't hesitate to stop by. My husband is yourpeetaisshowing, I'm alonglineofbread.