"Guys, if it doesn't pick up in an hour or two just close for the night," Twain said, standing in the doorway to the mudroom and looking out toward the kitchen. We'd had a rush in the middle of the afternoon that kept both Twain and Rye out in the storefront for a couple of hours without a hint of a lull, and since then there had hardly even been a handful of customers. The weather may have had something to do with it. It was the first truly warm day we'd had. The back door and all the windows were propped open to let the fresh air in. "Just make sure the clean up is finished. No use in sitting around staring at each other. I'll be back later tonight."
Rye shot Twain a mock salute as the older man turned and headed out the door. It was Saturday, and that meant no prep work to do, since the bakery would be closed all day Sunday. We had already started cleaning just for the sake of something to do. With Peeta helping it went much faster than usual. As soon as it was done, Peeta and I retreated to his room.
"So, your dad is still out," I said, dropping my head back against the mattress. "And Rye just left." We had just listened to Rye lock the front door a solid hour and a half early and proceed straight out the back.
"Yes," Peeta glanced over at me from the notebook in his lap. We were sitting side by side on his floor, leaning against the bed and making a futile attempt at picking up where we'd left off with our studying. Neither of us were invested in it the first time around that morning, and the intervening hours hadn't improved that.
"So we have the house to ourselves," I pointed out. He flipped the notebook closed and looked over at me, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. We leaned in to kiss each other in the same moment, so perfectly in sync I laughed softly as his lips met mine. Peeta smiled against my mouth, tossing the notebook aside and turning toward me. I leaned back, setting one hand on the floor behind me as Peeta leaned closer, and realized too late the heel of my palm was on one of Buddy's paws. He yowled and I jerked my hand away, throwing off my balance and nearly knocking both Peeta and I over in the process. Buddy had already disappeared under the bed before I could even turn around. "Oh no, what did I do!"
"D-did you just k-kill my cat?" Peeta shot me a playful glare before leaning down to peer under the bed.
"I'm sorry," I grimaced, watching him as he laid down on the floor and reached under the bed. He tapped his fingers against the floorboards and made soft, soothing noises in the cat's general direction, but none of it coaxed Buddy out of hiding. After a moment he gave up, straightened up and turned around toward me.
"G-good job," he said, pecking a kiss against my cheek and getting to his feet.
"He's okay, right?" I said, watching Peeta as he dropped down onto his bed.
"He's f-fine," Peeta said, holding his hand out toward me. I took it and he pulled me up off of the floor and onto the bed with one gesture. I smiled, burying my face against his neck as he wrapped his arms around me. A contented sigh rumbled through his chest as he twined his fingers in my hair.
"Peeta?" I played with the fabric of his shirt, rolling the seam along his shoulder between my fingertips. He murmured quietly in response. "Have you ever done any of this before?"
"Any of wh-what?" he asked. I felt his lips brush against my temple.
"This," I said, smiling to myself and snuggling closer to him.
"D-did you think I was l-lying when I told Prim I'd never had a g-girlfriend?" he asked, slowly trailing his fingers up and down my spine. "Or k-kissed a girl?"
"I forgot about that," I chuckled, the memory of that first dinner he'd had with us flooding back into my mind. I could feel myself blushing, and laughed softly out of embarrassment, even though he couldn't see it. "You've never actually said you didn't kiss anyone, you know. Just that you'd never had a girlfriend. And that you kissed Delly on a dare." Peeta laughed.
"I haven't k-kissed anyone else," he said. I smiled to myself and closed my eyes. Peeta's hand stilled. "Um. Have you?"
"Peeta," I pulled back, folding my arms across his chest and looking at him. "Who the hell would I have been kissing? And if you say Gale I will get up out of this bed and go home."
"I don't know," he said, his face flushing as he let out an embarrassed little chuckle. "Who the hell d-do you think I was kissing?"
"You're popular," I said, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "There's no way you've never noticed girls looking at you."
"I n-noticed," he smirked. I raised my eyebrows, and he laughed and looked away. "It j-just, um—didn't matter to me, I guess."
"Why not?" I laid my head back down and pressed a kiss to his jaw.
"None of them were you," he said, without a hint of his stutter or hesitation. I sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment before lifting my head again and looking at him. "Wh-what?"
"Um—nothing," I shook my head, smiling at him. How could he have liked me for so long? No one but Madge ever even acknowledged me beyond the occasional jeer from Gilda or some other stuck-up townie brat. Even when I stopped by to trade with his father he hardly ever said a word to me. I combed my fingers through his hair and kissed him, moving my lips against his slowly. He traced my lower lip with his tongue and I opened my mouth, shifting on top of him as I slid my tongue against his. Peeta wrapped his arms around me, pressing me to him as we kissed. I took a slow breath when we broke apart, my lips still brushing his, my eyes still closed. "Do you, um—think about doing more?"
"What d-do you mean?" he asked, kissing me again and brushing my hair behind my ear.
"I mean, um," I bit my lip, smiling to myself and looking away. "Us. Doing more. Going further."
"D-do I think about it? Do you want, um, an honest answer?" he said, biting back a smile. I pressed my lips together, looking at him for a moment before nodding. "Then yeah. I, um. I th-think about it. A lot." I chuckled and he blushed, laughing quietly and looking away.
"Do you want to?" I asked softly, studying his expression. He turned back toward me, a faint smile twitching across his face.
"I—um. I d-don't know," he said. "Like um, like what?"
"I don't know," I laughed nervously. He raised his eyebrows, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I don't know!"
"D-do you think about it?" he asked.
"Maybe," I admitted. Peeta shifted under me, his interest in the conversation becoming a little more obvious.
"What do you, um, think about?" he asked, smiling at me.
"I don't know," I said nervously, biting back a smile and hunching up my shoulders. That was a lie. What I thought about was pressed against my upper thigh and making me short of breath. "Why don't you tell me what you think about? Since you think about it. A lot."
"I think I'll p-pass," he smirked.
"Tell me," I said, pinching at his side. "You're the man, aren't you supposed to be in charge? Isn't that what they've been beating into our heads in Life Studies for the past five years?"
"Kat," he laughed, grabbing my hand and pulling it away. "I wouldn't have b-been in charge of this relationship before I had b-brain damage."
"Stop," I laughed, pulling my hand from his grip. I set it on his cheek, turning his face to mine to kiss him again. Peeta wrapped his arm around me, turning us over so he was on top. I put my arms around him, smiling as he kissed me. "Peeta?"
"Mhm?"
"I think I want to try oral," I said. He stopped and pulled back, looking down at me, his expression serious. My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn't believe I actually said it out loud.
"Okay," he said, taking a hesitant breath. His tongue darted out over his lower lip nervously. "Um. But. Not, um. Not t-today?"
"No! No. I mean," I closed my eyes for a moment and shook my head. "Not unless you want to."
"I don't, um—I d-don't think I'm ready," he said, his expression becoming timid and unsure. "Is th-that okay?"
"Yes," I sighed, more than a little relieved. Saying it out loud was one thing, doing it was another. One step at a time.
"We, um," Peeta hesitated, letting out a short, quiet laugh. "We d-don't have to um, stop. Right?"
"No," I smiled, kissing him again as I slipped my hands under the hem of his shirt and smoothing them over his bare skin.
After a while Peeta and I heard footsteps on the back steps and reluctantly pulled apart as the back door opened and closed. I arched my back, stretching out beneath him as he sat up. He let out a quiet groan and dropped back down onto the bed beside me.
"It's late," he said, his disappointment obvious. I turned to look at the clock on the dresser.
"Damn," I frowned and sat up. I didn't exactly have a curfew to speak of, but I knew what time I needed to be home before Mom would start asking questions, and by the time I got back to the Seam it would be getting dangerously close to that time. Peeta brushed his knuckles down my spine as I leaned over the edge of the bed to pick up my shirt from the floor. It made me shiver, and I swatted his hand away before dropping his own shirt on his face. The two of us went downstairs together, only to crash to a halt at the bottom of the staircase.
"Shouldn't you already be on your way home?" My mother was standing by the worktable, arms folded over her chest, one eyebrow raised.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, stepping into the kitchen and eyeing her suspiciously.
"Where the hell is your brother?" Twain asked Peeta.
"I d-don't, um, know," Peeta said, looking over at me.
"So you two have been upstairs alone for how long?" Mom turned to Twain, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
"Why don't you two get out and do something normal? Please," Twain said.
"Go for a walk," Mom said. "We'll head home together when you get back." The look on her face told me it wasn't optional. "I think you've spent quite enough time holed up in that room."
"We were st-studying," Peeta supplied.
"Yeah, while I appreciate this newfound dedication to your studies," Twain said, cocking an eyebrow. "We've already discussed how much is too much. Go."
"Okay," I said, turning to Peeta. "Let's go, then." I wanted to get out of that kitchen as fast as humanly possible, and from the look on his face, Peeta felt the exact same way. He nodded, following me out to the mudroom and picking up my sweater from where it hung by the door.
"And if you find Rye, make sure he gets his ass back here; that curfew still stands," Twain called after us as we walked out the back door.
"What the fuck?" I muttered to myself, giving Peeta a grateful smile when he handed me my sweater. I pulled it on before hooking my arm through his. He hadn't brought his cane, and though he didn't bring it on every walk we took, that was a night he probably could have used it. Peeta was a little unsteady on his feet, and I kept as close to him as I could to help him balance.
I knew mom had a goal with the walks she encouraged us to take. The whole idea was for Peeta to work beyond needing the wheelchair at all. He'd gotten stronger, and most days his grip on his cane had become a little less white-knuckled. The walks themselves had steadily gotten longer. She may have wanted him to be able to walk to and from school with minimal help, but my own goal was to get him out to the meadow. I wanted to put a stop to awkward kitchen run-ins once and for all.
"Are you okay?" I asked. Peeta rubbed his hand over his forehead before dropping it to his side and frowning. He was walking slower than usual and holding onto my arm a little tighter than he normally would.
"Yeah, um," he paused and sighed. "Headache. I've b-been feeling sort of out of it t-today."
"Why don't we go back," I said, nodding behind us. "You should have said something before we left."
"N-no," he shook his head. "I'm f-fine."
"Peeta," I grabbed his hand, pulling him to face me. "Let's go back."
"We d-don't go anywhere," he said, glancing back the way we'd come. "We're j-just always at the b-bakery. They were r-right about that."
"So what?" I shrugged. "I like it there." Peeta smiled, dropping his gaze to the ground between us. I took a step forward and kissed him. "Let's go back. We'll just tell them we need to finish an assignment or something and hang out in your room instead."
"Okay," he said, looping his arm around my waist and using me as support.
"It was kind of nice, um, having that privacy," I said, slowing my pace to make things a little easier on him. "That's the only thing that sucks about your house. Not having any. Ever."
"I know," Peeta chuckled, keeping his attention focused on the ground in front of us. "I didn't, um, think th-that I'd actually feel this way even after I g-got used to it, but, um, I'm g-glad I have my own room now."
"I am, too," I said, laughing quietly along with him.
The back door was still propped open when we got back to the bakery. I led the way inside, stopping short in the doorway between the mudroom and the kitchen. Peeta nearly crashed into me. I stood in silence, trying to wrap my brain around what I was witnessing. Twain had his arms around my mother's waist, pressing her against the edge of the worktable. Her arms were draped around his neck, one hand tangled in his hair. The way they were kissing each other made my stomach turn. It was painfully obvious that was far from their first kiss.
"What the fuck?" I snapped. They jumped away from each other, my mother whirling around to face us as Twain turned away.
"Katniss! Why—what are you doing back so soon?" she asked, fussing at her hair and shooting a wide-eyed look toward Twain.
"Peeta has a headache," I said, ignoring the look Twain shot toward Peeta at the statement. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Watch your language," Mom said.
"No!" I shouted. "What is wrong with you?"
"Katniss, honestly," she took a step toward Peeta and I.
"I gotta go," I said, turning toward Peeta. "I'm sorry." I held up my hands, squeezing past him and heading toward the door before he even had a chance to respond. I ignored both her and Twain calling my name, shoving my hands into the pockets of my sweater and walking as fast as I could without breaking into a flat out run. By the time I reached the outskirts of town Mom had started to catch up with me.
"Katniss! Slow down!" she called.
"Why?" I glanced over my shoulder toward her. "What the hell for? Did I not do a good enough job of babysitting my boyfriend so you could screw around with his dad?"
"Stop! Let me talk to you about this, please!" She caught me by the elbow, pulling me to a stop. I jerked out of her grip, glaring at her before continuing on. "Katniss."
"What!" I turned around, sucking in a breath. She didn't say anything, just pressed her lips together and looked at me. "So is all that shit people say about you and him true, Mom? Did you just jump in bed the minute that divorce was finalized? Did you even wait that long? Is that why he fucking pays you so much? Is that why there's always cakes and pies and all this shit at our house and he keeps going out on these mysterious fucking deliveries we never actually get any orders for but somehow take like four hours?"
"Katniss, stop," Mom said, stepping closer to me and looking around for anyone who might have been listening. "Just stop it."
"Fine! Why don't you go finish up with your fucking ex-boyfriend?" I pointed over her shoulder to town before turning away and storming off. She called after me and I ignored her, continuing toward home. Why wouldn't she tell me something like that? Why the hell would she keep it from me? What did she think of me that she felt like she had to hide something important to her? There was no way it wasn't important. There couldn't be. If it was, that just invalidated everything with Dad, and there was no way I could handle that. No way.
I dropped down on the front steps, not sure if Prim would be in the house and not ready to face her if she was. I combed my fingers back into my hair, dropping my head forward and finally just letting myself cry. After a few minutes, I heard my mother's footsteps approaching and took a slow, deep breath, getting myself under control as she sat down beside me.
"At some point you're going to owe me an apology for the things you just said," she said quietly. I let out a short, quiet bark of laughter, shook my head and looked away, wiping my face quickly.
"So how long have you been fucking my boyfriend's dad?" I said bitterly.
"Katniss," she sighed, shaking her head. "Not that it's any of your business, but I have not had sex with Twain." I cringed at her phrasing. "We've been seeing each other for a couple of months. And we started well after the divorce was settled."
"Why?" I snapped, instantly regretting it. I didn't want to know.
"Because he's a good man," she said, looking over at me. "And he was lonely." I felt her eyes on me for a moment, then she looked down at her hands, rubbing her thumb over her left ring finger. I hadn't even noticed that she'd taken off her wedding band. Her voice dropped to something close to a whisper. "And so was I."
I stared at her hands for a minute, wondering when she'd taken off her ring. What had she done with it? Even when we had been desperate and hungry enough to sell off so many of the things we attached to memories of my father she hadn't touched it. And I didn't suggest it, though I knew more than one person who would have paid enough for that band to keep us fed for nearly a month. I bit down on my lip, trying not to cry again.
"What about Dad?" I forced out, my voice quiet and timid. Mom looked up at me, her expression impossibly sad.
"Your father is gone, Katniss," she said. "I still love him. I always will. And Twain knows that. No one could ever replace your father for me, baby." I looked down at the ground in front of us. Mom shifted closer, putting an arm around my shoulders. "This isn't easy for me, either. I think that I've done you a disservice by not talking about him. You were just so young. You still are." I looked over at her, tightening my jaw against the tears I felt rising again. "Kat, when your father died he very nearly took me with him. If it weren't for Hazelle and Posy I'd have been gone, too. And I don't know that I'd have been able to find my way back any more than he could find his way back to us now."
"Mom," I started, the rest of what I wanted to say catching in my throat. She reached out and took my hand.
"You're just like him, you know," she smiled. "And I would have missed that." She brushed my bangs away from my face. "It took me a long time to convince myself of this, but he wouldn't want me to be alone. Even if it meant being with Twain Mellark." She laughed softly to herself, arranging my braid over my shoulder. I gave her a questioning look. "Your father did not exactly approve of Twain's general existence."
"What?" I wiped my face, turning to look at her. She shook her head.
"It was jealousy, I think," she said, the look on her face growing wistful and distant. "I did date Twain first, after all."
"What happened?" I asked.
"It's complicated," Mom said. I just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. I wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily. She looked at me for a moment before shifting uncomfortably, looking out over our patchy, yellowed front lawn. "I wasn't much older than you when I dated Twain. He was... far more serious about the relationship than I was. A very dear friend of mine had feelings for him at one time, and I just couldn't bring myself to betray that, even if it was no longer really a factor. Your father was little more than an acquaintance, but that changed after he picked up a few odd jobs in town. One of them was picking up my parents' supply deliveries from the train yard every month and delivering them to the shop. He used to tease me for 'dating the dough boy'. I couldn't bring myself to return Twain's feelings, but I fell pretty hard for your dad." She paused, smiling to herself.
"So you left," I said, filling in what little I did know.
"As soon as I finished school," Mom said, reaching for a chain hanging around her neck. She ran it through her fingers, pulling it from her dress. Her wedding band was hanging from it and she turned it over between her fingertips. "Twain was the only one who knew what I was planning. It was cruel of me to tell him in the first place; we'd barely even broken things off. He didn't tell a soul, though. And I didn't tell anyone that Lilith was pregnant."
Somehow that left an even bigger question about how Twain ended up with Lilith to begin with. He didn't seem like the sort of person to do something like that with the first girl he came across, but from everything Mom just said, he had. There wasn't much of a relationship between him and Lilith from the beginning. The fact that Mom didn't seem to have any doubts about Dad made me feel a little better about all of it, though. She wasn't the one who settled for someone else. That had been Twain.
"I know it's hard, Kat," Mom said, turning toward me. "You girls have been the one constant in my world since you were born. You're growing up. Both of you. You're dating. Prim already wants to. You have your own lives. And I need to have one, too. Twain cares about me. And more importantly, he cares about you and Prim. I'll be hard pressed to find that anywhere else."
"But, Mom," I sighed, looking out over our front yard.
"What, baby?" she asked.
"Gross," I whined. She burst into laughter, louder than I could remember hearing from her in years. I covered my face with my hands, but I couldn't help joining in. "Do you have to make out with him like that?"
"That comes with the territory of having a relationship with him, yes," she said, quieting her laughter. "I'm sure you don't know a thing about that." She raised an eyebrow at me, holding back a smile. I made a face and turned away, actively suppressing a shudder.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "That would have been better than walking in on you eating his face."
"I was not—Katniss," Mom laughed, covering her eyes with one hand and shaking her head. "I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure where things were going. I knew it wouldn't be easy on you, and I didn't want to upset you if it wasn't going to work out."
"Are you going to tell Prim?" I asked.
"Prim already has her suspicions, that I have neither confirmed nor denied," Mom said. "That girl is too intuitive for her own good."
"Does Peeta know?" If he didn't, I couldn't imagine the conversation the went on between him and Twain would have been a very smooth one.
"The boys know," she said. "There is no privacy in that bakery. Peeta interrupted our first date, and then Rye immediately interrupted us a few minutes later when Twain kissed me goodbye."
"Please don't talk about kissing him," I frowned. "Phyl, too?"
"The other night, when I said I had a patient in the hills? Twain and I were having dinner with Phyl and Darla," she said with a sheepish smile.
"So everyone knew but me," I said, shaking my head and looking away. "Great. I'm going to kill Peeta."
"Don't be upset with him," Mom laughed. "He was doing the right thing by keeping his mouth shut. Don't give him grief for it."
"Whatever," I muttered. A few moments of silence passed between us.
"Katniss?"
"Yeah?"
"When you get over thinking the idea of me kissing someone is gross-"
"Not going to happen."
"When you do," Mom laughed. "Do you think you could be happy for me?"
"I guess," I sighed, glancing over at her. The look on her face made me pause. "Yes."
"Thank you," she smiled, leaning over and kissing my cheek. "I suppose I should tell Prim before she throws a fit over me holding out on her, too."
"She'll be happy for you," I said. Mom stood up, setting her hand on my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"You still owe me that apology," she said before going into the house.
I sat on the front steps as long as I could handle, hugging my sweater around me as the night started to get cold. Eventually I stood, turning to go back inside and face what I knew would be a flood of happy babbling out of Prim over all of it. The more she moved past her jealousy of the time I spent with them, the more she was taken with the Mellarks in general. She spent most of Sunday thinking out loud and chattering over the prospect of spending more time with them, and the vague idea of a joint family dinner was tossed between her and Mom more than once. I wanted nothing to do with any of it.
I skipped out on hunting Monday morning. It was pouring, and I made a run to the Hawthorne's before Gale could go out, delivering enough food to keep him from going out, as well. I was there and gone before he could even protest, though that didn't stop him from giving me an earful when we met up for the walk to school.
"Give it a rest," I snapped, watching Prim run ahead to walk with Vick and Rory. "I'm sick of this conversation."
"Fine," he huffed. We walked a bit further in silence, though I felt Gale sneaking glances at me every few feet.
"What?" I looked over at him, holding back the edge of my hood to see his face.
"You're angry about something," he pointed out. I sighed, refusing to answer. "Just tell me, instead of making me spend the rest of the walk fishing it out of you so you get even angrier."
"My mother is seeing Twain," I said, sneering at her word choice.
"No shit," Gale laughed. "That's what you're mad about?"
"Not the rumors," I said. "I mean she really is. I walked in on them kissing in the bakery Saturday."
"I know they really are," he said. I just stared at him. "Kat, he's at your house like, twice a week. And I don't mean when he's dropping Peeta off or whatever."
"So everyone knew except me," I frowned, staring at the muddy lane ahead of us. Gale chuckled, cutting himself off after a moment.
"Wait, so you're really upset? Not just Katniss upset?" he said.
"Yes, I am," I snapped, jerking my head up to look at him. "What the fuck does that even mean? And wouldn't you be? What if Hazelle started dating?"
"I'd be very happy for her," he said. "Unfortunately the only one barking up her tree is Cooter Maynard."
"Ew," I laughed, shaking an exaggerated shudder out of my shoulders.
"I forgot you haven't been around to see him 'come a-courtin'," Gale said, putting on an all-too-accurate imitation of the drawling accent the entire Maynard clan shared. "I swear I'm going to give him the same treatment as that shitty taxidermy he hauls into the Hob every couple of weeks if I have to chase him off of my front porch again. You'll have to forgive me for not having any sympathy about Twain Mellark."
"I guess it could be worse," I said, shaking my head and chuckling. "They still hid it from me, though."
"Probably because they thought you would freak out," he said. "And obviously they were right about that."
"Mom and I already talked about it. I just—I don't know," I shrugged, looking away.
"Are you pissed at Twain?" he asked. I shrugged again, glancing around as we crossed the schoolyard. I didn't exactly want anyone overhearing. For the most part everyone was rushing to get out of the rain and indoors. Prim and the boys took off in a run toward the lower school. "Catnip, you work for the guy, you're dating his son, he's dating your mom, and we trade with him every weekend. He's not going anywhere. You may want to have a conversation with him about this."
"Maybe," I frowned, stepping through the door to the school as Gale held it open.
"Definitely," he said. "And a real one. Don't be all Katniss about it."
"What the fuck does that even mean?" I snapped. Gale just shoved my shoulder before turning down the hall toward his first class.
Peeta was already in his seat when I got to class, obviously watching for me and nervously bouncing his leg under his desk. I flashed him the most reassuring smile I could manage. I hadn't realized until that moment that storming out the way I had probably left him anxious and worried all weekend. As soon as class let out he was at my side.
"Is, um, is everything okay?" he asked.
"It's fine," I said, nudging him lightly with my elbow as we made our way to our next class.
"You were j-just so upset—Saturday," he said. "It made me n-nervous."
"I'm fine," I said again. "Really. I'm sorry I just sort of ran off like that."
"It's okay," he said. "Um, I have t-to go see your mom when I g-get out of class. I won't see you until later." He would be gone before we even made it to lunch, and I had to go to the bakery right after school. Though Peeta would be back before I left, that still meant I was going to have to face Twain before I even got a chance to talk to Peeta about any of it. The brief snatches of time we had together walking from class to class didn't afford much of a chance for conversation.
Twain was, thankfully, busy with customers when I got to the bakery. It dawned on me as I called out a greeting and tied on my apron that the last time I'd seen him he was sucking face with my mother. I just hoped the customers would keep him out front for a while. Rye and I worked together in relative silence until the pace out front slowed down. When the bell over the door rang for the last time, Twain stepped into the kitchen.
"Go get your brother," he said to Rye. Rye looked at the clock with a confused frown on his face. Even with how long it took to walk out to the Seam, it was early. "Now."
"Okay," he said, raising his eyebrows and giving me a look as he pulled off his apron, hanging it on the wall before turning toward the mudroom. I glanced over my shoulder toward Twain as the back door closed. He took a breath to speak, only to have the bell over the front door ring. He gave me an apologetic look before returning to the storefront. After a while he returned, crossing the kitchen and sitting down at the worktable as I finished taking a batch of bread out of the ovens.
"I'm sure you have plenty you want to say to me," he said. I pushed the oven door closed before turning to face him. I didn't. But I wanted to hear whatever he had to say. Twain sighed. "No?" I shrugged, shaking my head and crossing my arms over my chest. "Okay. Um." He let out a brief, nervous laugh, rubbing his hand over his hair. The bell out front rang again, saving him from having to go any further. I got back to work, listening to his exchange with the customer out front and hoping it would keep him out there for a while. The more I thought about this the less I actually wanted to discuss it, no matter what Gale may have said to me earlier on the matter. When the bell rang a second, and then a third, time I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Sorry," Twain muttered, returning to his seat after the last customer finally left. "I care about your mom, Katniss. Very much. I have for as long as I've known her. She's an amazing woman, and, honestly, she's helped me just as much as she's helped Peeta with all of this. If not more."
I sighed, looking up at him briefly. It was pretty obvious he cared about her. He didn't look away, and it was making me feel incredibly self-conscious. I took a slow breath, looking anywhere in the kitchen but at him.
"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?" Twain chuckled. I rolled my jaw, glancing at him for a moment before looking back toward the discolored brick at the edge of the ovens I'd chosen to stare at. "It's easier for the boys. That goes without saying, I'm sure. They don't exactly have fond memories of their mother."
The bell at the front rang again and Twain sighed, getting up from his seat and moving out front to help the customer that had come in. I got back to work, hoping that he'd be stuck out there. The space just gave me time to turn over what he'd said in my mind, though. Whatever memories Peeta and Rye may have had about Lilith, or how they felt about her being gone, didn't change a damn thing about what our parents were doing. By the time Twain finally returned I was getting the last of the baking ready to be stocked out front and frowning so hard my jaw hurt.
"I promise you I'm not going to hurt her," he said, leaning against the edge of the work table. "Or you. Or Primrose. I care about you girls, too. I'm sure once you get over this you'll see it for the good thing that it can be."
"I'm sorry," I snapped, dropping my hands against the table. "'Get over this?' You think I'm just going to 'get over this'? I walk in on you all over my mother, and then find out that not only has it been going on for months, but everyone fucking knows except for me, and I'm just supposed to 'get over it' and be fine with it?"
"Katniss-" Twain straightened up, holding up his hands in front of him.
"No," I snapped, pointing at him. "It's fucking weird. Your little history or whatever, and sneaking around like that; it's weird. You're adults. Why was it a secret?"
"We just th-"
"Shut up," I threw my hands in the air before holding them out in front of me. "I don't care. I don't give a shit. Don't hide things from me. And if you're going to fuck my mom or whatever you had in mind with her pushed up against the table like that please don't fucking do it where I might see it. Fuck." I blew out a breath, combing my fingers back into my hair and turning away from him. Peeta and Rye were standing in the doorway to the mudroom, twin amused smirks on their faces.
"Are you done?" Rye asked. Peeta snorted, pressing his knuckles against his mouth.
"Why the fuck are you laughing?" I snapped. "You knew. And you didn't tell me."
"Um—sorry," Peeta muttered, his smirk vanishing immediately. He looked to Twain for help.
"Katniss," Twain turned back to me, taking his time choosing whatever it was he was about to say. "I didn't mean for any of this to upset you. I guess with how, um, simple things were for the boys, it was easy for me to forget that it would be a bit more complicated for you. I'm sorry about that."
"Thank you," I said, folding my arms across my chest and chewing my lip for a moment. "It's fine."
"Why don't you, um, take the rest of the afternoon off," Twain said to me nervously.
"Fine," I frowned. "Am I allowed to go upstairs or do you want us to go do something normal."
"Do whatever you want," Twain said, holding up his hands in defeat. I turned toward Peeta. He shrugged and nodded toward the stairs before following me as I climbed up them to the second floor. Buddy greeted us in the hall, purring and mewling and darting between our feet as we made our way to his room. Any sore feelings he may have had over me nearly killing him on Saturday were clearly long forgotten. When I sat down on the edge of Peeta's bed Buddy sat at my feet, paw at the leg of my pants until I lifted him up.
"Are you, um, okay?" Peeta asked. I snapped my attention toward him as he closed the bedroom door. Buddy scrambled out of my grip, having gotten what he wanted when I lifted him up onto the bed.
"I'm fine," I spat. Peeta just raised his eyebrows.
"I d-did hear all of that, you know," he said, a small smile on his face as he sat down beside me. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "It d-didn't sound—fine."
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I asked. "You knew that whole time."
"Well—s-sort of," he said. "D-Dad never s-said anything. I didn't really s-see them together. It was j-just, um-"
"Obvious," I cut him off.
"K-kind of," he said, offering a sheepish smile.
"And you're not upset about it," I pointed out.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Have you, um, m-met my mother? I'm happy D-Dad found someone who's... n-nice to him."
"Mom wants me to be happy for them," I frowned. "Gale basically told me that I need to be."
"Aren't you?" he asked. I gave him a pained look. "I mean. It's um—it's been a long time since your dad d-died."
"Peeta," I frowned, giving him a look. I hoped he was only trying to imply that the pain of his loss should have been less acute, and nothing more about the state of my mother's love life.
"Um, I'm s-sorry," he grimaced. "Was th-that the wrong thing to say?"
"It's fine," I sighed. "Peeta? Is it weird?"
"Is what?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Well, they're our parents."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"We're dating. You and me," I pointed between us. "And that's my mother and your father. And they're dating. Is that kind of—I don't know."
"Are you asking—if we're going t-to have to change our last n-names to Maynard?" he smirked. I laughed, leaning against him. "I d-don't think it's weird. Is that weird? That I d-don't?"
"No," I said. He wrapped his arm around my waist. "I don't think it is."
"Okay," he pressed a kiss against my hair before stretching out to lay down behind me, his arm still hooked around my waist. "Are you s-sure you're okay?"
"Yes, and I'm done talking about it," I snapped. He laughed softly, pulling me closer. I laid down beside him, pressing against him as he turned to face me. He slipped his hands under the back of my shirt as he kissed me, smoothing them over my skin and pushing up the hem. I arched my back, pressing myself closer to him as he deepened the kiss. His fingers slipped under the back of my bra; his other hand pulling my shirt up further.
"Peeta," I said softly, barely pulling my mouth away from his. "Your dad's downstairs."
"So?" he smiled against my mouth, nipping at my lip gently.
"So maybe taking my clothes off isn't the best idea," I laughed softly, but I didn't make any moves to stop him. I didn't really want him to stop.
"You sc-scared the shit out of him," Peeta said, shifting his kisses to my neck. "He's not g-going to come up here." I tilted my head, my eyes fluttering closed at the feel of his tongue and lips against my skin.
"Peeta," I protested, though I was sure he could tell my heart wasn't in it.
"Please?" he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you." I let out a quiet huff, sliding my arms around his waist as he kissed me.
"If you're sure," I said, smiling and pulling up his shirt. I felt him smile against my neck before he nodded, shifting to pull off the shirt. I turned onto my back and he smoothed his hands up my sides, pushing the fabric of my own shirt up as he did. I lifted my shoulders from the bed, allowing him to lift it off over my head. Peeta leaned down to kiss me again, moving to lay on top of me as he dragged his lips over my jaw and down my neck. I spread my legs beneath him, my breath hitching as his hips dropped down. He brushed soft, slow kisses over the tops of my breasts and against the edge of my bra. Sitting up for a moment, I cast a hesitant glance toward the door before reaching back to unfasten the hooks. Peeta smiled at me as I laid back down, his eyes roaming over my bare skin as he took a slow, deep breath.
I felt goosebumps rise over my skin as he looked at me, and they just intensified when he lowered his lips to my breasts. I wondered if there would ever be a point when we didn't hesitate, or when my heart didn't pound so hard against my ribs when he undressed me. As much as I wanted it to feel more natural, I didn't want to lose how lightheaded and giddy it made me feel.
I reached between us, unbuttoning Peeta's pants to push them down his legs. I wanted to feel more of him. My head was swimming, and the heat I felt from head to toe only grew as he reached for the waist of my own pants. After a moment of awkward squirming, we kicked the last of our clothing to the floor, leaving me in my panties and Peeta in his boxers. We'd seen each other naked, but we hadn't been pressed together like this. I could feel his hardness pressed between my thighs. When he rolled his hips I had to fight back a moan that would have gotten us caught in an instant.
"Shh," Peeta grinned, combing his fingers into my hair and pressing a slow, wet kiss against the corner of my jaw. I dropped my head back, sliding my hands to the small of his back and tilting my hips up against him. My heart pounded in my ears as he moved against me, my legs trembling when he rubbed over my clit. The feeling was dizzying, knowing what he was doing and that how he was moving was so close to how he'd move in me. The heat of his skin on mine. His thighs between mine. His hand on my breast and his mouth covering my own. I wanted more. I was coming so close to whatever it was and not quite reaching it and I needed more of him against me. I slipped my thumbs under the waistband of his boxers to push them down. Peeta froze and gasped, his body stiffening on top of me.
"It's okay," I murmured, smoothing my hand over the small of his back. "It's okay. It's not that different. Just—just one less piece of clothing. Right?"
"Right," he breathed, looking down at me for a moment as I pushed them down further.
"I'll just—leave mine on, okay? So nothing can accidentally happen," I said softly. Peeta nodded as I raised my legs to push them the rest of the way down with my feet and his eyes fluttered. The motion brought our hips flush together. He let out a quiet moan and kissed me again. I could barely kiss back. My jaw dropped when he rolled against me, his cock pushing against the thin, wet cotton of my panties. The reality of how he might feel inside me started to sink in, and I gasped audibly at the thought. His fingers had felt so good. I thought about the fullness of his cock opening me and let out a breathless moan. Peeta shushed me gently through his own labored panting.
I held onto him, lifting towards him and muffling my whimpers against his shoulder as he quieted his own against my hair. I heard my name on his lips, quiet and gentle and stutter-free and it pushed me to the edge. I wound my arms tight around him, my knees lifting and my toes curling as my hips rolled against his. He pumped against me and I hoped that meant he was coming with me before I let go and pressed my mouth against his skin to keep myself quiet, my body pulsing and contracting under him.
"Oh," I murmured, trembling as I slowly relaxed against the bed. Peeta lifted his head to look at me; his lips parted and his expression shocked and spent. I set my hand on his cheek and kissed him softly.
"Um, wow," he whispered, resting his forehead against mine. "Th-that, um-"
"Yeah," I swallowed hard, fighting to catch my breath. Peeta pulled back, looking down between us and swearing softly. He rolled to the side, reaching for that damn towel, and I bit back a grimace as he carefully wiped me clean. The gesture was oddly sweet, even though the scrap of terrycloth in question was disgusting. "I, um, I can't wear these home." I looked down at myself, starting to realize just how messy and gross that had gotten. I rolled off the bed to my feet and Peeta reached out and grabbed my wrist.
"Let m-me," he said, stopping me as I reached for my underwear. I bit my lip, turning around to face him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He licked his lips, looking up at me before carefully sliding my panties down off of my hips and letting them drop to the floor. He smoothed his hands back up my thighs and pressed a soft kiss below my ribcage. "I think, um. I think n-next time we should t-try oral."
Happy Friday everybody! Thank you all so much for all your favorites, follows, and reviews. We hit 500 favorites today and that's more than a little mind blowing. Thank you guys, seriously. As always, you can find me and my handsome, brilliant coauthor on tumblr. I'm alonglineofbread, and he's yourpeetaisshowing.