Part Two

Chapter Six

Author's Note: Here we are…the halfway point of Part Two and the halfway point of "Reprieve" as a whole. This chapter is sort of the catalyst for big change, so enjoy!

We're coasting. I can feel it. I don't exactly hate it. I'm not sure I like it, either.

That's not to say that things aren't going well for both of us. Peeta's brought a new flavor to Henion and the locals are starting to notice. There have even been articles in The Daily Collegian5 and The Hampshire Gazette6 on this carbohydrate renaissance, and Peeta's eating it up. Rue has offered to increase his hours but he's been so busy with his freelance work that he declined. At least for now.

I've been working full time at Esselon, which has included a few regional trips with Thresh. And the trips were great, not only for the experience but for the space it provided Peeta and I. It was just enough time away to take a deep breath, enjoy the moment and be genuinely happy to see each other once I came home. Balance.

And every night we switch off which room we sleep in. No more tiptoeing into the other's room in the early hours of the morning. We've reached an understanding and are both sleeping better because of it. Platonically.

We need something to push us.

Her name is Delly Cartwright.

…

"Hey, I was thinking that we could maybe get away for the weekend. Drive to Boston or something, maybe check out some museums or a game. What do you think?"

Peeta is brushing his teeth and motions for me to wait a second. Eventually he shuts the bathroom light off and walks to my room, making himself at home. I close my notebook and stick it under the bed before he leans in and kisses me.

"I've got to get some work done for that client I mentioned. She'll be coming in to town for a presentation and it's still not where I want it to be. Some other time?"

"You've been working so much. I wish you'd take a break every once in awhile." And it's true. If Peeta's not at the bakery he's holed up in his room with his computer. He's got that artificial glow about him from the screen.

He brushes my hair away from my forehead and holds his hand against the side of my face. "I like being busy, Katniss. It's important for me to make a living and make clients happy. You know that." He kisses me again. "We're good. We'll take a weekend soon, I promise."

This whole patience thing is really pissing me off. I think my tongue has a permanent crease where I constantly bite it, hoping not so say something that will set us both off. But the truth is that I am tired of taking it slow. Aren't we supposed to be working on 'us' too?

"Alright. But I'm holding you to it." He leans in again and kisses me, shifting to lay me down and pin me against the mattress. My hands writhe up his back and hold him to me as he groans and deepens the kiss. Here we go. Finally. "Peeta," I'm breathless and begging.

"Soon." His kisses retreat and turn to pecks. Soon?

I move to hold him to me and whine, "No, now. Please."

"Soon." Peeta's too strong and rolls away.

"Why are we waiting? Is this about the accident?" I touch my palm to the spot over his heart. "We can figure out ways that are more comfortable for you. For us. I just want to feel—."

"Katniss, this isn't about my injuries." He rolls on his side to face me. "We're doing everything right by taking it slow. Please don't rush this."

"I don't think I'm rushing this." Traitor tears reach my cheeks. "It's been months. I want to be with you again."

"Please don't cry." He gathers me closer and I rest my head on his chest. I feel like I'm going to be sick to my stomach, a weight settling there that I have been trying to ignore.

I hate coasting.

…

Dear Peeta,

I'm trying to be patient.

I'm trying to push at the right time.

I'm trying to be happy with the happiness you've found.

I'm trying to understand your idea of taking it slow.

But I feel like I'm losing you.

I'm trying to be strong.

I'm trying to trust you.

I'm trying to figure out where I fit in your life.

But I'm scared that I'm failing.

Katniss

…

"Remind me why I agreed to go with you to this game?" Johanna and I are closing up Esselon on a Friday night and are planning on heading to campus for the UMass hockey game against Vermont. It's one of the league's oldest rivalries and should draw a big crowd, even if neither team is particularly impressive this season.

"Because I actually want to go do something and Peeta's working. I haven't been to a game all season and I promised to treat you to a postgame beer in exchange for keeping me company."

"Back the truck up. I think we agreed on beer and wings in exchange for this outing, brainless." I laugh and we lock up, driving to the Mullins Center7 in the early evening traffic.

We're walking into the arena and hand the usher our tickets. "So how are you and the Wunderkind? Comfy cozy?"

"Sure. He's been really happy with work. Rue loves him and he's excited to be working on some original recipes. It's awesome to see him happy, you know?"

We shuffle into our row near UMass' bench, sitting just above the glass. "Where does that leave you?"

"What do you mean? You know I've been busy with the roasting works. I can't complain."

Johanna shakes her head and says, "I don't understand you guys. You either feed off of each other like some sort of disgusting, parasitic succubus or play the 'I'm totally independent and don't need you for my personal happiness' game. Christ, it's dramatic."

The lights dim and the crowd erupts when the teams take the ice. I'm in a fog as the announcer reads off the starters and the anthems play.

"Come on, Katniss. Haven't you heard of a happy medium?"

I've heard of it, but I obviously haven't mastered it.

…

We decide on ABC8 for postgame and settle in for a while. Eventually a few of the players and coaches show up, sticking out like sore thumbs in their suits and ties. Girls flock to them and they revel in the attention. Ah, to be the big man on campus.

"So when's the next time you're going home?" I can tell that Jo really isn't paying attention. She's just making small talk, looking around the bar for a potential conquest. I'm not really in the mood for deep conversation anyway.

"Probably Prim's graduation in June. I can't believe she'll be going to college, you know?"

"Yeah. Hey, isn't that Peeta?"

"What?" My head jerks in the direction Johanna's is in and I eventually locate him at a booth on the other side of the room. He's leaning against the back of the seat, beer in hand and laughing, a young woman sitting across from him. She's blonde and blushing, waves touching her shoulders with one hand resting on her own glass and the other just inches away from Peeta's own.

There's lead in my stomach. It's irrational lead, but it's there.

"Who's the blonde? She looks enamored."

"I, um, I think that's the client he's been working with. She's in town to see what he's come up with."

"Right. What he's come up with. More like what he's got hidden in that portfolio." Johanna starts to slide off of her stool, "Let's go say hi."

"No! No. I mean, he wouldn't want to be interrupted. It's a business meeting."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." I drain my pint and circle my fingertip around the edge of the glass.

"Katniss." Her voice is relatively soft for a crowded bar and is laced with understanding. "Come on, let's get out of here." I nod and hand the waitress some cash. I try to be inconspicuous when I look again toward Peeta's table. She's placed her hand on his forearm and her smile is soft. I decide not to look at his face for a reaction and turn away, feeling something greater than doubt flood my senses.

…

I pull into the driveway and put the car in park, deciding to sit here for a while with the heat blasting on my face. It's uncomfortably hot, but I'm pretty sure that the flush creeping up from my chest isn't from the temperature.

Peeta's client—Delly is her name—is beautiful. I could find jealousy in that reality, but that's not what is bothering me. What's bothering me is the ease of their interaction. No awkward second-guessing each word and action. No dancing around past wrongs. He seemed calm and happy and she, well, she seemed enamored just as Johanna had pointed out.

Enamored with my fiancée. Or boyfriend. Or whatever the hell it is we are. What are we?

…

Peeta,

I'm mad. I'm angry. I'm annoyed. But of all of the emotions I've felt over the course of our relationship, I've never once felt this. I've never once been jealous. And yet here I am, angry tears coursing down my face.

You tell me to take this slow. You tell me to be patient. Well isn't that wonderful, because this is the result of slow and patient. And it sucks.

Do you still love me? I don't know. How would I know? You haven't said those words in months so I just keep telling myself to be patient when all I want to do is get in your face and ask you. Do you love me?

We're always in 'fix it' mode, trying to be the perfect partner for the other. And I'm trying so hard to be what you need. In case you were wondering, I'm failing. Fix it mode is exhausting.

And right now I'm tired of being good. I want to drop kick Delly Cartwright and her stupid, perky breasts back to whatever the hell city she came from.

Are you happy now?

Katniss

…

I'm in bed when Peeta comes home, lying on my side facing away from the door and pretending to be asleep. After a few minutes I hear him enter the room. The mattress dips and he removes the prosthesis before lifting the quilt and rolling to spoon me. I concentrate on making my breaths even and slow, feigning sleep.

I feel his breath hot on my shoulder as he trails kisses along the bare skin there, eventually reaching my neck. I wonder if he thinks I'm really asleep, in which case this is affection that's safe for him. This is affection on his terms. Fuck this.

Jealous Katniss is kind of a bitch.

But I don't cave and eventually he settles in, breathing in the scent of my hair.

Chapter Six Notes:
5. The Daily Collegian. UMass' student newspaper.
6. The Hampshire Gazette. Local paper.
7. The Mullins Center. Arena where UMass' basketball and hockey teams compete.
8. ABC. Amherst Brewing Company. It used to be located right downtown but then relocated to a spot slightly closer to campus and across from two other popular sports bars: the Hangar and Rafters. The new location is absolutely huge but kind of lacks the intimacy of the old place. But they make delicious fried pickles, so almost all is forgiven.