With only three weeks to go until our finals started, Peeta finally got back to full school days. The transition didn't go very well. After the first day he leaned heavily on me on our way back to the bakery and collapsed into sleep the minute he got upstairs. His second day didn't go much smoother. On the third, he was nearly 20 minutes late for our first class, a white knuckled grip on his cane and a nervous, apologetic look on his face.
"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Mellark," Mrs. Smith said as Peeta made his way to his desk at the back of the room. "I'm sure you'll be relieved to know you've only missed half of the class."
"I'm s-sorry," Peeta mumbled, dropping down into his desk and pushing his hat down his forehead. I turned in my chair to look at him, hoping to catch his eye. He kept his head down, rubbing at his wrist and frowning as he flexed his fingers.
"Miss Everdeen," the teacher snapped. "Eyes forward." I turned around, sinking down in my chair and pushing my bangs away from my face. As soon as she turned toward the chalk board I glanced over at Peeta again. He flashed me a weak smile that did nothing but unsettle me even more. When class was over I didn't bother waiting for him to get to me the way I usually did; I beelined for his desk. Before I could even get a word out, Mrs. Smith spoke up from the front of the room. "Peeta, I want to see you before you leave, please." Both of us looked up at her, ignoring the low chuckle out of Verne as he walked past us to leave the room. I just shot him a glare, my hand coming to rest between Peeta's shoulders.
"I'm okay," he said as he got to his feet. His voice was strained, clearly far from okay.
"Katniss, you can wait outside," Mrs. Smith said. I straightened up indignantly, frowning at Peeta.
"It's fine," he said quietly, waving me off. I walked with him to the front of the room, hesitating for a moment. It only took one glare out of Mrs. Smith to push me out the door. I hovered just outside the doorway, hoping to hear whatever she had to say.
"Peeta, I understand you're just starting full days," she said. "I know you've been pushing yourself with all of this, and I understand the arrangement you've made. If this is too much, it's too much. I'll let today slide, but I'm not going to give you any more chances. I can't push you through to next year on good conscience if I don't think you can handle it. Do you understand?" There was a pause, followed by some quiet, indistinct mumbling from Peeta. "Good. Now get to your next class before you're late for that one, too."
Peeta came out a moment later, his jaw set and his eyes red. He didn't even slow down, just shook his head when I reached for him and pushed past me. I sighed, all but chasing him to our next class. I brushed my fingers over his forearm before we split up to go to opposite sides of the classroom.
I could barely get a word out of him in the few opportunities I had. Even during lunch he was silent and surly. The attempts Delly made at including him in conversation were met with single word responses, if that. When we got back to math Mr. Capps called on him twice, berating him in front of the class for his mumbled, incorrect answers.
"Seems you're not as sharp as you once were, Mr. Mellark," Capps said, frowning and staring Peeta down over the rims of his glasses. "And considering your placement in my class last year, that doesn't exactly bode well for how things are going at the moment, does it?" Peeta just shrunk down in his seat, and I had to force myself to keep my mouth shut.
When we got to the bakery after school Peeta just dropped his books in the mudroom before stomping upstairs. I followed behind him, waving off the questioning look Rye gave me as we swept through the kitchen. For all his exhaustion, Peeta was moving as fast as I'd ever seen him and nearly closed the bedroom door in my face before I caught up with him.
"I j-just wanna be left—alone," he said, yanking his hat off and whipping it to the floor. The motion startled Buddy, and he darted out of the room as I closed the door behind me.
"Well, too bad," I said. "I don't want to leave you alone." He looked over at me, taking a breath to say something before letting out a frustrated sigh and scratching both hands through his matted down hair. "You had a bad day. Big deal. They happen."
"So I should j-just—b-brush it off?" he snapped.
"Well—yeah," I said. "That's kind of what you do. You're home, it's over. Try again tomorrow."
"Why?" he threw his arms out to either side, letting them fall against his legs. "So I c-can fuck up again and really ruin th-this whole f-fucking arrangement with school? Why am I even b-bothering? I c-can't even p-pretend to be normal anymore."
"Peeta," I tried, not entirely sure what I'd say but wanting to at least derail his rant.
"No!" he turned away from me and started pacing the room. "Smith was right. How am I sup—supposed to k-keep going when I c-can't even h-hand—handle th-th—fuck!" He struck out at the first thing within reach, the chair at his desk, and sent it crashing to the floor. I frowned down at it, hating this violence and anger out of someone so quiet and gentle and not sure exactly how to put a stop to it. "And I never thought I'd f-fucking agree with C-Capps on something, but tod-day I did. You know why I g-got that answer wrong? B-because I was t-too busy looking for my pencil to hear what he was asking. The p-pencil I already—had in my f-fucking hand. I g-got sick just watching th-the rest of you in g-gym."
"Peeta, will you stop?" I finally said.
"No," he turned on me. "None of this is g-going to change. Ever. I'm g-going to b-be a fucked up, useless mess f-forever."
"Stop it," I snapped. He frowned at me, my tone catching him off guard enough to shut him up for a minute. "You're not useless, and of course it's not going to just magically change overnight. You don't just give up when you have a few bad days."
"Every d-day is-"
"Shut up, no it isn't," I gave him a look. "The past three days have sucked, of course they have, you just added another hour and a half to your day and school is terrible. But every day is not a bad day, so don't even try that bullshit with me."
"You d-don't know what it's like," he muttered, dropping down to sit on the edge of his bed.
"No, I don't," I said, stepping closer to him. "But I'm around you enough to have a pretty decent idea of it." He glanced up at me, a skeptical look on his face. "Remember when I first started working here and you couldn't even sit in that kitchen without disappearing into your own head? What about that day you frosted maybe a dozen cupcakes before you couldn't even hold the bag anymore and then fell up the stairs? And you just worked half of Saturday with me. Three months ago you couldn't even hold your balance in the halls between classes and now you don't even need the chair to get to school. Don't tell me you're going to be fucked up forever after doing all that." He kept his eyes on the ground, tugging at his fingers. I sighed and sat down beside him. "I'm sorry for yelling, but you're being an idiot."
"It's f-fine," he said quietly. He still hadn't looked up at me. I shifted closer to him, but a knock at the door interrupted what I was about to say. We both looked up as Twain opened it, his brow furrowed in concern.
"Everything okay in here?" he asked. Peeta nodded.
"Bad day," I said with a shrug. Twain nodded, frowning down at the chair on the floor. "We're fine."
"Okay," he said, looking at Peeta and I for a moment. "I need you downstairs for a bit this afternoon, Katniss."
"I'll be down in a few minutes," I said. Twain nodded again, quietly closing the door. Peeta and I listened to his footsteps recede downstairs before turning back to each other. "Are you going to stop being a dumbass?"
"For now," he said, glancing at me as a small half-smile crept across his face. I backhanded his leg, turning closer to kiss him. He slipped his arm around my waist, leaning into the kiss. When I pulled back a tear slipped down his cheek.
"Why are you crying?" I asked, brushing it away with my thumb. He jerked back and wiped at his face with both hands.
"Just—overwhelmed," he shook his head, taking a deep breath and looking away from me.
"Then rest," I said, pushing my fingers through his hair and smiling to myself as he closed his eyes and leaned into the gesture. "Try to sleep while I go work, and I'll come up before I go home."
"Fine," he sighed. I smiled, pressing another kiss to his cheek before getting up. Twain was standing by the sink in the kitchen when I got downstairs, arms folded over his chest as he looked out the window. I glanced into the storefront when I passed the doorway and caught sight of Rye behind the counter, joking around with Alden and a couple of girls I didn't recognize.
"I thought he'd gotten past those mood swings," Twain said, turning around and leaning against the counter as I tied on an apron.
"Today was rough," I said. "I don't think that was the medications."
"Thanks for calming him down," he smiled.
"I probably shouldn't have yelled at him," I said, grimacing in embarrassment.
"He can stand being yelled at every once in a while," Twain chuckled. Rye and his friends got louder, whatever it was they were saying drowned out by Alden's loud, obnoxious laughter. Twain rolled his eyes, pushing away from the counter. "There's a couple of orders I need you to start on," he gestured to the slips of paper sitting on the counter top before disappearing into the storefront.
I spent most of my afternoon prepping the orders the best I could. Pastries for the Ayers; the dough needed to chill overnight before that could be finished. Cookies for Rooba's daughter. I'd forgotten her birthday was just a couple of days before my own. Once they were in the oven and I'd cleaned things up I went back upstairs to check on Peeta. His room was dark; the blind pulled down to block out the last of the afternoon sun. I could just barely make out Peeta curled up in bed as my eyes adjusted. I closed the door behind me softly. Buddy perked up as I crossed the room, yawning and stretching his paws toward me from where he lay beside Peeta's head on the pillow. Peeta stretched as I sat on the edge of the bed, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he turned onto his back to look at me.
"Hi," he said, squinting toward the clock on his dresser.
"It's almost time for me to head home," I said softly. "I just wanted to come see you."
"Thanks," he said, smiling at me and sliding his hand over my leg, wedging his fingers between my knees.
"Feeling any better?" I asked, rubbing my knuckles against the back of his hand.
"Kinda—um, woozy," he said, rubbing his free hand over his face and back through his hair.
"Go back to sleep," I said, leaning down to kiss him. He turned his hand and took hold of mine, his grip only relaxing once he'd drifted off again. I set his hand on his chest gently, kissing him one more time and scratching Buddy's head before I turned to leave.
"Katniss," Prim whispered. I felt her finger brush down my nose and jerked back, folding in on myself and pulling the blankets up around my face. "Katniss, wake up!"
"Why?" I whined, stretching my back and opening one eye to look at her.
"Because it's your birthday!" she said, grinning at me.
"And it's early," I groaned, turning my face into the pillows.
"Aren't you going hunting?" Prim asked, softening her voice a bit.
"Not today," I said, the words muffled by the pillows. "Don't need to."
"Oh. I'm sorry," she said, laying her head back down. She lowered her voice to a whisper again. "Happy birthday."
"It's okay," I smiled, turning my head just enough to look at her. "Thanks, Duck." Prim smiled and closed her eyes, the two of us drifting back to sleep for a few more hours. I woke to an empty bed and the smell of breakfast filling the house. After dressing, I went out to the kitchen to find Prim setting the table while Mom stood at the stove cooking. A full breakfast was usually reserved for weekends. I ate in the woods with Gale most days.
Prim wolfed down her own meal before bouncing to her feet and moving to stand behind my chair. She held out one of her ribbons for my approval and I just nodded without really glancing at it. I don't remember how the tradition started, but she was so pleased with it year after year I had a hard time saying no. Last year she'd started getting more intricate than a simple bow at the tail end; weaving the ribbon into the braid instead. She did the same this year, carefully arranging it on my shoulder as I finished eating. I thanked her with a kiss on the cheek, getting up to thank Mom for breakfast with the same. We found Gale and his brothers waiting outside as soon as we were ready to leave.
"Happy birthday, Catnip," Gale said, flicking my braid as soon as I was within reach.
"Thanks," I swatted his hand away and pushed my braid back over my shoulder. As we walked to school he told me about a run-in he had with another poacher in the woods that morning that nearly resulted in them accidentally shooting each other in pursuit of the same rabbit. He showed me the tear in his pant leg that Clayton's arrow had left. It was rare that we crossed paths with anyone out there, though we could see the evidence they left behind from time to time. Generally we stuck to our own particular sweet spots; Gale and I to the northwest, brothers Clayton and Jeffrey Collins just south of us, on the opposite end of the valley. East is Simon Mitchell's territory, though in his old age he doesn't get out as often as he used to, and quite a few weekend poachers favor that area as well. The Maynards stick to the north and have been known to set traps to deter other poachers on the borders of the area they've claimed as their own. No one hunted in the south, where the broad expanse of dead land cleared to make room for the coal trains to be loaded made it impossible to even reach the fence.
"It's about time to start moving closer to the lake, anyway," he said. Warmer weather, and especially the break from school that came with the Games, meant going further into the woods; a luxury very few hunters could afford.
"For me, maybe," I said, giving him a look. "You're going to ride that train of stubborn stupidity right into 18 hour shifts in the mines, remember?"
"Shut up," Gale shoved my shoulder as we split up to go to our separate classes. Peeta was waiting for me outside of our classroom, leaning against the wall with his books in one hand and his cane in the other.
"Hey," he turned toward me, stepping forward to kiss me as soon as I was close enough. His lips were soft and warm against mine, and his tongue brushed my lip gently before he pulled away. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," I said, dropping my eyes to the floor between us as I felt my face flush. Kissing like that in public was still rare and new, and not something I thought I'd ever get used to. Peeta lurched forward a step. I looked up to see Harvey Carrow grinning on his way past us into the classroom, having given Peeta a shove in the shoulder. Peeta blushed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. I cocked an eyebrow. "What was that about?"
"N-nothing," Peeta said. I frowned, leaning around him to look into the classroom. "Really. You can s-stop looking so mad. He was j-joking. The good way."
"He still hangs out with those assholes," I said.
"Those assholes—aren't th-that easy to walk away from," he said.
"Delly did it," I gave him a look, leading him into the classroom as the bell rang.
"And you d-don't give her enough c-credit for anything. Let alone—that," he smirked, nudging me with his elbow before we parted ways to continue to our desks.
Lunch was torture. Madge teased me mercilessly over the ribbon, which I hadn't even noticed until that moment was a soft, delicate pink. The teasing I could handle, it was Delly's excited fluttering over it that had me shooting pained looks at Peeta every few minutes. He just smirked and kept his mouth shut, clearly enjoying my annoyance.
Twain had given me the day off, but I still had every intention of going to the bakery anyway to spend time with Peeta. I'd debated going straight there, but he'd talked me out of it, saying he needed to rest for a while first. He kissed me softly before we parted ways to go home, promising to see me in a couple of hours. I smiled to myself, joining Prim and the Hawthornes for our walk home and doing my best to ignore the pushy invitation from Gale to go out hunting.
"It's nice out," Gale said, gesturing to either side like I wasn't well aware of what he meant. "Just come with me."
"I'm going to see Peeta," I said.
"You can go see him afterward," he protested. "You skipped this morning, come on."
"It's my birthday! And I don't actually need to hunt," I reminded him, though it just earned me an eye roll.
"You should spend your birthday in your favorite place," he insisted. "Well, your second favorite. I know the woods have been moved to the back burner now that you've discovered your boyfriend's dick."
"Gale!" I backhanded him in the stomach as hard as I could manage. He jerked away and laughed. "You're an asshole. I should have just gone straight to the fucking bakery."
I went with him anyway, though. For all my bitching about it I did want to get out there. Being in the woods with no pressure to bring home a meal was far, far more relaxing and enjoyable than I ever imagined it could be. I retrieved my bow and quiver out of sheer habit, slinging both over one shoulder and hiking halfway to the ridge before Gale even managed to catch up with me. We sat at the top, looking out over the valley. I closed my eyes as a breeze swept past us, raising my chin and breathing in the cool, clean air.
"I need your help with something," Gale slapped my leg and stood up, starting on the path down into the valley—and away from the District—before I could even protest.
"What? No! I was going to go back," I said, standing up and brushing off my pants.
"It'll only take a minute, come on," he called back, waving me toward him. I huffed, looking back over my shoulder and seriously debating just leaving him there. "Come on!"
"Fine! Fine," I grumbled, starting downhill after him. He led me halfway across the valley, adding another half hour to the trip back. It was already getting late, and I still had to factor in the walk to and from the bakery to what was left of my afternoon. My time with Peeta was shrinking every minute I spent following Gale through the damn woods, and I didn't hide how annoyed I was getting. He just forged ahead, an amused smirk on his face.
He had me help him scout a new run of snares, something he was more than capable of doing himself. As soon as he suggested we actually set them I just swore at him and turned away, stomping angrily back toward the District fence. Gale's long strides kept pace with mine easily, laughing and telling me to relax. The more he said it, the angrier I got. By the time we split up to pass back through the fence I was happy to be rid of him, and did my best to get home before he'd even be able to make it back. I was nearly home before he caught up again.
"Catnip!" Gale laughed, running a few steps to catch up with me. My path back to our houses was shorter, but I was in a rush. That went without saying. By the time I got into town it would be late enough that I'd get maybe an hour, at most, before I had to turn back around to get home. He seemed to think it was funny. "Will you slow the hell down, please?"
"So you can fuck up my afternoon a little more?" I snapped, glaring at him as he caught up with me.
"I haven't fucked anything up," he chuckled. "Lighten up."
"I told you I wanted to go see Peeta," I said, ducking away from him as he tried to sling his arm around my shoulders.
"I know," he said, grinning at me and following me toward my house. I shot a glare back at him over my shoulder, wondering why the hell he wasn't going to his own house. He shoved the door closed as I tried to open it, commanding my attention. "Hey."
"What the fuck, Gale?" I narrowed my eyes at him, my hand still curled around the door handle.
"Happy birthday," he smiled. I shoved him back a step with my free hand and yanked the door open. I was met with a chorus of greetings and happy birthdays that caught me so far off guard I nearly jumped back out the door. Gale was behind me, shoving me forward into the house as I let out an embarrassed laugh. Mom and Twain were standing in the kitchen and Peeta sat on the couch with Madge; Delly and Rye sat side by side on the hearth, getting to their feet as Gale closed the door behind us. Prim leaned around the edge of Mom's chair, flashing me a wide smile. "Feel free to apologize for being such a bitch to me all afternoon."
"You're an asshole," I squeezed out through gritted teeth, shoving at him as he moved past me to go sit by Madge. I looked over at Peeta, returning the smile on his face. Mom greeted me first, with a kiss on the cheek and a quiet happy birthday. Twain was a step behind her, though the sight of the two of them together still didn't quite sit right with me. "Who's running the bakery if all of you are here?"
"We finished up early," he smiled and pulled me into a hug. "Left Phyl and Darla to watch the store until Rye and I get back. Peeta can stay until your mother kicks him out. Happy birthday."
"Thanks," I smirked, continuing into the living room. Rye gave me an affectionate shove on the shoulder before Delly all but launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck. I cautiously returned the embrace, watching Peeta over her shoulder. As soon as she pulled away I gave her a smile I hoped passed for grateful and wedged myself between Peeta and Madge on the couch. She shoved at my shoulder, shifting into Gale's lap to give me more space. I shoved her right back without even turning away from Peeta.
"Happy birthday," he said quietly, leaning over to kiss my cheek.
"Thanks," I said. "But I hate surprises. As some of you are well aware." I shot a glare at Madge and Gale over my shoulder. They just grinned in response. "You should have told me."
"It wasn't, um, m-my idea," he said, casting a purposeful look at Delly, and then toward Prim where she sat in Mom's chair.
"Still," I backhanded his leg lightly and he covered my hand with his, lacing our fingers together. "Where's your chair?" I looked toward where it was usually parked by the door, confirming I hadn't just overlooked it on the way in.
"I didn't, um—d-didn't use it," he said, a suppressed smile twisting the corners of his mouth.
"You walked all the way here?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline. He nodded, looking down at our hands and breaking out in a shy grin that betrayed exactly how proud he was of the accomplishment. I squeezed his hand and pecked a kiss against his cheek.
"Yeah, he's real concerned with building up his stamina all of a sudden," Rye grinned. Delly jerked her elbow back into his ribs as they sat back down, narrowing her eyes at him. He chuckled, rubbing at his side before slinging his arm around her shoulders. I caught Mom and Twain laughing over whatever conversation they were conducting behind their hands and frowned, raising an eyebrow when I caught Mom's eye.
"Sorry," she said, smiling at Peeta and I. "I was just saying I can't believe how cozy the two of you have gotten. It's very sweet."
"Mom," I gave her a pained look, willing the color I felt rising in my cheeks to fade.
"You should see how they are at the bakery," Rye said. I turned toward Peeta, raising my eyebrows to silently demand an explanation for whatever Rye seemed to have found out about. Peeta shrugged, giving a subtle shake of his head.
"Rye, will you stop it?" Delly snapped. "It's her birthday. Don't be a jackass."
"May as well tell him not to breathe," Twain muttered.
"It is sweet," Madge said, effectively wiping out any hope I might have had at the subject being dropped.
"Please don't," I gave her a look.
"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm just happy for you and your adorable boyfriend no one ever though you would ever have?" Madge said. "Ever."
"Oh?" Rye said, perking up and turning toward Madge. Delly gave him a look that he completely ignored. "Go on."
"We kinda gave up," Gale said. I let out a pained groan and covered my eyes.
"We had this whole plan worked out to ask her to come live with us after graduation just so she wouldn't have to spend her life living single and alone with her mother," Madge said, glancing over at my mom. "No offense, Mrs. E."
"None taken," Mom smirked, glancing down at the glass in her hand, the rest of what she had to say a barely-audible mutter. "It would have been a blessing." Twain chuckled, turning toward her and slipping his arm around her waist.
"So the three of you, huh?" Rye nodded, raising his eyebrows as he turned the idea over in his head. "Damn, Hawthorne. I gotta tip my hat to that one."
"Not like that, pervert," Gale chuckled.
"Don't be vile," Delly slapped his arm. Rye laughed, pulling Delly closer and whispering something to her that earned him another slap. She shoved him away from her, her face reddening. "You're so embarrassing. I can't take you anywhere."
"Mom thought she liked girls," Prim said, desperate to get a word in. There was a beat of silence as what she said sunk in before everyone started to laugh.
"What?" I snapped, looking over at Mom, who was blushing furiously and trying to hide it against Twain's chest, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
"I'm g-glad you don't," Peeta said quietly. "Although it, um, wouldn't b-be that bad if you did, y'know, a little." I pulled my hand out of his grip and backhanded his chest.
"Do not turn into him," I pointed at Rye. "Or I will take them up on that offer." I gestured toward Gale and Madge. Peeta laughed, taking my hand again before pulling me back to him to kiss me. I was spared through dinner. We ate sitting around the living room; it was the first time we'd had too many people in our house to sit at the table. As soon as the meal was finished Twain put Rye to work on the dishes, both of them dismissing my mother's protests. Twain passed her a cake box and a knife, turning her toward the kitchen table and away from the sink as he helped Rye finish.
I hadn't had a birthday cake since Dad passed. The year before mom and Prim had scraped enough together to get me a cupcake, and I'd given most of it to Prim. I leaned against Peeta as Mom cut into it, and he quietly confessed he'd made most of it, leaving only the delicate piping to Twain to finish. I smiled, turning around to kiss him, pulling back only when Madge nudged me with her elbow to pass me the first piece.
Twain and Rye left just before dark, leaving Delly behind with a promise to keep Peeta in line. Mom walked them out, leaving the rest of us to sit back down in the living room. We talked for a while, Prim, Delly, and Madge splitting a card game that Peeta and I watched. Gale sat behind Madge, helping Prim cheat off her hand. As soon as Madge figured out exactly why she kept losing she declared the game over, feigning anger and pointing out just how late it was getting.
"I, um, have s-something for you," Peeta said quietly as everyone was getting up to leave.
"You do?" I asked. He just nodded, reaching over the arm of the couch to pick up a roll of paper tied closed with a piece of string.
"I j-just didn't, um—didn't want to g-give it to you in front of everyone," he said, his cheeks flushing as he handed it to me. I glanced back to see everyone else preoccupied with leaving, and turned back to him before untying the string. I carefully unrolled the paper to find a drawing of the meadow, the tree we sat under when we walked out there easily recognizable on one side. I just stared at it for a moment, realizing that the times I'd caught him with his sketchbook in his lap, when he'd hastily closed it and tossed it aside, he'd been practicing for this. "D-do you like it?"
"Peeta," I smiled, looking up at him. "I love it."
"Good," he let out a relieved sigh, scratching his fingers up under the edge of his hat. I set the paper aside on the couch, putting my hand on his cheek and lifting his face to kiss him.
"Come on, lover boy," Madge called from the front door. "Let's go."
"Happy b-birthday," he said quietly.
"Thank you," I smiled, squeezing his hand before turning to watch him leave.
The only drawback to working with Peeta was how little work we seemed to be able to get done some days. He spent most of the afternoon as close to me as possible, stealing kisses whenever Rye or Twain weren't looking, brushing against me every time he walked past, and flat out groping me when his hands were clean enough. Once when they weren't. I pretended the entire show annoyed me, but as soon as the opportunity presented itself, I was the one who led the way upstairs, dragging Peeta by the wrist.
Peeta's lips were on mine the minute he closed the door behind us. I laughed softly before leaning into the kiss and draping my arms around his neck. He wrapped both of his arms around me, pressing me to him as his tongue parted my lips. I opened my mouth to him, walking us back toward his bed as I met his tongue with my own. We broke apart when the back of my legs hit the mattress, and I laid down as he pulled his shirt off over his head. I hooked my fingers in his belt loops and pulled him down. Peeta lowered himself on top of me, my smile faltering as he settled his weight between my parted legs. My breath caught in my throat as he palmed my breast through my shirt before he began unbuttoning it, and I slipped my hand to the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss me. He smoothed his hands over my bare skin, pushing my shirt open and dragging his kisses to my chest. I arched my back towards his mouth, whimpering when he dragged his teeth over the thin cotton of my bra.
"Shh," he grinned, burying a quiet chuckle against my skin. I sat up and shrugged off my shirt. He groaned at the way it moved our hips together.
"You shh," I said, smiling and hooking my arm around him as he fumbled with the clasp at the back of my bra for a moment. I pressed a kiss to his shoulder and laid back to let him pull it off. The way he looked down at me—eyes half closed, tongue pressed between his lips—sent a shiver through me, and he just smiled before leaning down to kiss me again. I smoothed my hands over the bare skin of his back, my fingertips trailing the edge of a rippled burn scar on his shoulder blade before moving lower. His hips pressed forward as I settled my hands low on his waist, slipping my fingers under the waistband of his pants. I could feel his erection pressing against me and wanted to feel him in my hand. I wanted to feel the way his cock twitched against my palm just before I took him in my mouth. Peeta's hand slipped between my thighs, his fingers rubbing against me through my pants, and I gasped against his mouth. If I wanted control I had to take it.
I pushed him to the side, turning him onto his back and straddling his hips. Peeta raised his eyebrows, a slightly dazed smile on his face. I leaned down and kissed him, sweeping my tongue through his mouth before pulling back and reaching down between my legs to unbutton his pants. He lifted his hips as I pushed them down, and I moved to one side to get them off his legs completely.
"Yours, too," Peeta breathed, reaching for the waist of my pants. I nodded, my eyes dropping to the sight of his hard cock, clearly visible under the thin fabric of his boxers. I kicked my pants to the floor, turning back to him and glancing up at his face as I reached for the waistband of his underwear. His tongue darted out over his lips, his eyes flicking between mine and my hands. I smirked, tugging them down and shifting to kneel between his legs.
I curled my hand around his cock, stroking over him once and watching his eyes flutter. Peeta propped himself up on his elbows, watching as I leaned down and brushed my lips against the head. He moaned quietly. I shushed him, smirking when he laughed. The sound died in his throat as I took him into my mouth, stroking the length I couldn't quite fit. I looked up at him without pulling away, watching his eyes flutter closed and his jaw drop open. The muscles in his stomach fluttered with his effort to keep quiet, lifting his hips toward my mouth as I moved over him. It just pushed him deeper, and I nearly gagged, jerking away when he hit the back of my throat. Peeta mumbled an apology and I just shook my head, wondering how much of him I could fit if I really tried. I curled my fingers around the base, holding him steady as I lowered my mouth onto him.
"Oh—wow," Peeta muttered, dropping back against the pillows as I hit the point that had nearly made me gag before. I forced myself to relax, moving him a little deeper before pulling back. I felt Peeta's hand in my hair as I took him into my mouth again; a sign he was getting close. I tightened my lips and my fingers around him, setting my free hand on his hip. He hunched forward, breathing heavily, his hand slipping to the back of my neck. He swallowed a moan, his hips lifting toward me as he spilled into my mouth. He let out a sigh as I pulled back, wiping my knuckles against my lower lip as I swallowed. Peeta wrapped his arms around me as he laid back against the pillows, pulling me down to lay with him.
I smiled to myself, pressing a kiss to his jaw and snuggling against his warmth. His breathing slowed as his hands traveled over my skin, gradually moving lower. I felt his lips brush along my hairline and he turned towards me, tracing the waist of my panties with his fingertips. I shifted to kiss his neck, moving my lips against his skin as he slipped my underwear down off my hips. Peeta nudged me gently onto my back, his hand slipping between my thighs as I spread my legs for him. I was already wet; his fingers slid over my folds easily. I closed my eyes as he rubbed his thumb against my clit, rolling my hips into the movement. He tried to move lower and I tightened my hold on him, turning his face toward mine to kiss him.
Peeta pressed his fingers into me, making me gasp against his mouth. I moved with him as he worked them in and out of me. Every time the heel of his palm made contact with my flesh I had to bite back a moan. That's what I wanted to feel, and I couldn't find the words to say so. I covered his hand with my own instead, pressing his hand against my clit and grinding against him as he moved his fingers. Once he had the idea I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face against his shoulder to keep myself quiet. I moaned against his skin as my orgasm built, taking a deep breath and clamping my mouth down on his shoulder as it washed over me, my legs snapping shut around his hand. Peeta chuckled quietly, pressing kisses to my jaw as I slowly relaxed. As he pulled his fingers from me he rubbed them over my clit, sending a jolt through me.
I stretched out on my back, letting out a contented sigh as Peeta slid his hand across my stomach, turning me toward him as he curled his arm around my waist. I pressed a kiss to his chest, then his neck, and finally his lips, smiling for a moment before softening my mouth on his. A wordless murmur rumbled through Peeta's chest as I let myself sag against him.
"Peeta," I chuckled, dropping my forehead to his shoulder. He was hard again, his erection pinned against my hip.
"I c-can't help it," he said, letting out an embarrassed laugh and tightening his arms around me. "You're too sexy."
"Stop," I smirked, pinching at his side. He flinched, his hips jerking forward against me, the feeling making my head swim.
"Could we, um-" he paused, his voice soft and serious. "C-could we have sex?" I bit my lip, turning it over in my mind. I wanted to, but that wasn't the problem. We were pushing it, doing this with Twain and Rye both downstairs, privacy even more limited by how late it was getting. "Please?" Peeta nuzzled against my hair, his hand sliding over my back, and any resolve I might have had crumbled away completely.
"Yes," I said, laughing to myself at how quickly he turned away and rolled up to sit at the edge of the bed, yanking open his dresser drawer and rooting around for the strip of condoms he'd stashed in the back. I turned onto my side, watching him tear one off before dropping what was left of them and shoving the drawer closed. "Did we already use that many?"
"Yeah," he smirked, glancing at me over his shoulder. "And I b-broke that one, remember?"
"Right," I smirked at the memory of scolding him for it and reminding him what I'd gone through to get them in the first place. I really didn't want to go through that again. No matter how fast or slow we went through what I bought, Ripper would have something mortifying to say about it. Peeta turned back toward me, shifting himself on top of me before covering my mouth with a slow, deep kiss.
"Are you ready?" he murmured against my lips, reaching between us and sliding his fingers over me. I was still swollen and sensitive and all I could do was moan softly in response, raising my knees on either side of his waist to tilt my hips toward him. Peeta guided himself into me, exhaling through my hair as he sank in, filling me completely. I'd never felt him in me after an orgasm like that, and I was caught off guard by the sensation. I felt everything as he began moving in me, my body drawing him in deeper than I'd felt him, enveloping him more completely. I held onto him, pressing my mouth against his skin to keep myself quiet.
"Peeta," I gasped, brushing my lips against his neck and curling my hips toward him, trying to match his rhythm and meet his thrusts with my own. It felt too good. I hiked my legs up around his waist, clinging to him and whimpering quietly. He moaned softly against my hair, his breath catching in his throat and cutting the sound off. In the half second of silence I heard a footstep in the hall and my heart dropped, the sweaty haze I'd let myself get swept up in vanishing completely. All I could hear was Peeta's breath in my ear, and I slapped at his back to get him to stop, hissing his name through my teeth and trying to get his attention. It didn't work and I pushed at his chest instead, time slowing to a crawl as those footsteps stopped outside the bedroom door and the doorknob jiggled as someone took hold of it on the other side. Peeta finally pulled back, looking down at me in confusion and I just shook my head, my eyes widening as Twain opened the door. I locked eyes with him in the split second it took Peeta to realize what was going on.
"Dad, wh-oh my god, c-close the door!" Peeta snapped, trying to pull away from me. I grabbed his arm, digging my nails into his bicep to keep him from moving; he was the only thing covering me and Twain had yet to move from the doorway. It kept him inside me, though, the feel of him getting more foreign and unwelcome with every passing second.
"I didn't see anything just—please, god, tell me you're using a condom," Twain said. I glanced over Peeta's shoulder to see him shielding his eyes and ducking back into the hall.
"Dad, shut the door!" Peeta shouted, and I loosened my grip on him as soon as the door slammed closed.
"I need to talk to you two idiots," Twain said, his voice muffled. "Get dressed. Get downstairs." After a moment his footsteps receded down the hall. Neither of us moved until we heard him go downstairs.
"Peeta, what the hell?" I muttered, burying my face in my hands and snapping my legs together as soon as Peeta shifted off of me. "I knew we should have stopped. Fuck."
"I'm s-sorry," he said, sliding his hand over my hip before gently pulling my hands away from my face. I jerked away from him, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching for my clothes. "Um. D-does this mean we're n-not going to finish?"
"Yes!" I snapped, turning to glare at him as I yanked off my shirt. I balled my underwear into my fist, tugging my pants on loosely as I stood up. I left the room, leaving the door swinging open behind me before slamming the door to the bathroom the minute I was inside. After I cleaned myself up and dressed properly I went back out into the hall to find Peeta standing and waiting for his turn. He shot me an apologetic look before going in. I frowned, leaning against the wall and rebraiding my hair. There was no way in hell I was going downstairs without him. After a moment he emerged, looking reasonably composed, if a little pale. We just looked at each other for a moment. Peeta sighed and took my hand before leading me downstairs.
"Why won't you tell me why you're all worked up?" Rye said, hovering in the doorway between the kitchen and the storefront.
"Just shut up, please," Twain snapped, pitching a few empty trays into the sink. Peeta jumped at the noise, shrinking back against me as we reached the bottom of the stairs. Rye looked over at us, his eyebrows creeping up to his hairline and a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Oh. Oh," Rye's face fell as the full realization dawned on him, shifting through half a dozen expressions before settling somewhere between amused and annoyed. He pointed at Peeta. "Wait, when did you start fucking her?"
"Rye," Twain said, squeezing his name out through gritted teeth.
"I am your brother, I'm supposed to know this shit," Rye said, taking a step toward Peeta. "Seriously, Phyl told me all about that, and that was his wedding night; everyone knew. I told you about me and Dell. What the fuck, Peet?"
"Rye, will you get the fuck out," Twain bellowed, pointing toward the back door.
"Yikes, okay," Rye grimaced, yanking off his apron and tossing it to the worktable before retreating out the back door. Twain took a slow breath, closing his eyes as the back door slammed.
"Sit down, please," he rubbed his fingers over the bridge of his nose, pacing a few steps before leaning against the counter beside the sink, arms folded tight across his chest. Peeta and I pulled out the stools on the opposite side of the work table, keeping a careful distance from each other and avoiding eye contact both with each other and Twain. "We clearly need to discuss some boundaries, here." He paused, as if waiting for either of us to speak. He wasn't going to get a word out of me, and I could tell just from the twitching in Peeta's face and jaw there wasn't any hope of him getting a syllable out even if he wanted to.
"You two get away with a whole hell of a lot," Twain continued. "And believe me, if I had known exactly how far things were going up there, I'd have sat you two down a hell of a lot sooner." He sighed, shaking his head and looking toward the stairs. "This is disrespectful. Of both of you, but mostly you, Peeta."
"I'm s-s—I'm s-sorry," he muttered, glancing up for a moment before dropping his eyes to the table again.
"At least try to hide it," Twain said, dropping his arms to his sides and shaking his head, his tone shifting from angry to exasperated. "Honestly, guys, I can't turn a blind eye to something this painfully obvious. I mean, I knew things were—but this-" He shook his head, running his hand through his thinning hair. "Just—at least tell me you're at least being smart enough to use protection."
"Dad," Peeta shrank a little on his stool, folding his arms around himself.
"Well, are you?" Twain demanded, taking a step forward. "Because you're sure as shit not thinking anything else through." Peeta shielded his eyes with his hands, looking over at me. I just pressed my lips together. "Are you?"
"Yes!" Peeta said, his shoulders hunching up.
"Okay," Twain stepped forward, shaking his head and resting his hands on the work table. "Listen, I know keeping you out of that bedroom isn't going to stop this from happening, it's just going to make you pick dumber places. And considering how good you are at getting around they're going to be even dumber than Rye's choices." Twain let out an exasperated buff of air. He looked up at the two of us, raising his finger and pointing at Peeta and then me. "If either of you breathes a word of any of this, or shits all over this privilege again, you're getting Delly rules, too. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," I said. Peeta nodded urgently beside me. Twain pointed at me again, hesitating for a moment before dropping his hand to the table.
"Please don't let your mother find out," he sighed. I raised my hands, my eyes going wide, hoping that somehow communicated how little I wanted her knowing about what was going on between Peeta and I. "Go home. If you see Rye on your way, send him back."
"Okay," I said, slipping off of my stool. Peeta moved to follow me as I passed him.
"Don't you dare move," Twain snapped, and I cast a wide-eyed look at him before ducking into the mudroom to retreat out the back. As painful as that had been for the two of us, I had the sinking feeling whatever Peeta was about to hear on his own was worlds worse.
Thank you all so much for all your favorites, follows, and reviews! As always, you can find my husband and I on tumblr. I'm alonglineofbread, he's yourpeetaisshowing.