Part Two
Chapter Nine
I pick up the notebook again and turn the pages until I find where another note has been hidden.
Katniss,
There hasn't been one moment between now and the first time that I said it that I haven't loved you.
I love you.
My fingers clench, gripping the paper and I break down as Peeta scoots closer, taking the notebook from my hands. My fists ball and hit his chest once; my body curls in on itself as he shushes me and lifts his chin so that my head rests under his. Peeta's hands hold my body tightly against his own.
"Shhhhh." Peeta rocks me gently, rubbing his hands along my back. "Shhh."
Once I quiet down a little, he takes the notebook and holds it just beyond my head, continuing on where I left off, my head still tucked to his chest.
I love you. But for once in our relationship, the words wouldn't come to me. Thank you for being as patient as you could. Please forgive me for making you wait.
I love you.
Squeezing your hand, smiling at you in the mornings and sneaking in kisses are poor substitutes for the words that you've needed to hear. They're also words I needed to say. I knew they could be powerful, but I never knew that they could heal.
Peeta's voice cracks, but he continues. I love you.
Initially there was a part of me that held the words close, knowing that doing so hurt you. Withholding them was a sort of punishment for you, and ultimately for me. Then they became words that terrified me: I didn't know if I could possibly live through losing you once more. I blame myself as much as anyone for what happened, but selfishly I knew that I couldn't go through that again and still come out the other side in one piece. Not without you.
If that makes me seem weak, so be it. I won't apologize for telling you the truth you deserve to hear.
But I realized that by not saying the three simplest, yet most profound words, I was letting the best part of 'us' slip away. I was allowing it to go on, more interested in self-preservation than happiness. I fed you doubt and worry. I fed myself shame.
I want to live our story with you, not reenact past mistakes.
I'm telling you that I love you–all of you–and knowing that breathes life into me. All I needed was one reason why this would work. Allowing me to love and be loved in return is that reason.
Scratch that. I need two reasons. The other is here with me now.
I won't lose you. I refuse to give up when we've come so far.
I love you,
Peeta
It's quiet and still in the room. The great stillness only compounds as the moments go on, our uttered words finally settling down on us, comforting like a down blanket. "Peeta," I whisper, not wanting to etch into the contentment. "Peeta. I love you."
He brushes the hair away from my forehead, searching my eyes. "I love you. Stay with me."
I press my lips to his and hold myself there, no longer searching for forgiveness or answers or acceptance.
…
Kiss.
Smile.
Breathe.
Go slowly.
…
My mind is oddly blank. For the first time in a long time, I'm not living in my head. All I feel are Peeta's lips against mine. His lips against my lips. My neck. My shoulder.
I whisper Peeta's name between moments, capturing his lips and pushing my body against his, the muscles shuddering as I stretch. He grips my waist as I wind my arms around his neck, strong breaths being shared.
"Katniss."
I look at him, smiling, panting and kiss him again.
Everything is familiar but new. Stripped down. His hands are shaking and his fingers circle my collar, trailing down and lifting my sweatshirt, his eyes gazing at my chest before putting his ear to the spot over my heart.
"Your heart is racing. Are you nervous?"
"Mmmm. Not even a little bit." I trace his ear. "It's you."
Peeta brings his face to mine and kisses me again so I reach for his shirt and pull it over his head. Before there's a chance of him feeling self-conscious of the scars, I push Peeta's shoulder and lean over his torso, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses across his chest and along the marbled skin. I hear him humming and feel the slight vibration against my lips.
My hands trail down to his waistband and stay there, waiting for Peeta to lift his hips. Kneeling at his side, he does so and I scoot back to remove the flannels; I eventually return to his waist and place my palms there.
"I love you," I whisper.
He nods and I ghost over the prosthesis, gently mimicking the motions I've seen Peeta make before. Once it's removed, I return to his side and take his hand in mine, weaving our fingers together and place it over my breast. He closes his eyes for a moment, kneading softly and then sits up to kiss me before laying me down. I shimmy out of my sweats and we just are.
Peeta lies on his side, taking his time seeing and exploring with eyes, hands and tongue. It's too much. It's not enough.
"You're beautiful." His mouth finds my breast. His hand moves lower.
"Peeta, I—." I gasp and turn my head to the side. "I—."
I can't form a coherent though. I'm unraveling.
I see the hint of a smirk and lift up on my elbows, reaching to push Peeta back; I am fully prepared to give him some of his own medicine. My legs straddle his middle and I hold his hands in mine, pinning them slightly above his head.
Tracing the base of his throat to the underside of his chin with my tongue, Peeta groans and leans his head further back onto the pillow to expose his neck. Some things never change. I blow on the line and whisper in his ear, "So predictable."
He chuckles. "Can you blame me? It's been awhile."
I release our hands and cradle his face, looking into Peeta's eyes and smiling. "So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?"
"Never let you go."
I continue to pepper kisses along his jaw and ask, "Is this comfortable? I mean, should we—."
"No," He smiles and says, "I mean yes, but I want to start—" he rolls us over "—here."
Peeta settles against my hips and my breath hitches as he gasps into my shoulder. It's a declaration, an assertion of sorts. For Peeta it's reclaiming what he thought he had lost. For me it's coming home.
"I love you."
…
We are spent, his weight fully pushing me into the mattress beneath us. I hold him to me, languidly running my fingers up and down his back as we catch our breath. Sweat has darkened his hairline and I can feel the beads that have gathered at the base of his spine. He kisses my breasts and I smile.
He asks, "Was that—?"
"It was perfect. You were perfect."
Peeta exhales and I can feel him smiling against my skin.
…
We quietly move to the shower and stand under the spray just watching the water. It collects and drips from our eyelashes and earlobes, bouncing off of one of us and colliding with the other. It trails down my chest where Peeta kisses.
Slowly I turn and wet a washcloth, lathering soap against the fibers and return to face Peeta. I lovingly wash his body first before gently massaging shampoo through his hair. He stands beneath the spray rinsing, his eyes closed and my hands sweep suds away from his face. Standing up on my tiptoes I kiss his lips and he responds, stepping out from under the stream and wiping his eyes.
He smiles and takes a washcloth to return the favor. Peeta's hands tenderly linger and are soft against my skin. I close my eyes as he massages my scalp before rinsing and sliding conditioner over the tangles. We hold each other until the water cools.
Continuing the small, caring gestures, both of us wrap the other in towels before walking to my room. Peeta runs a comb through my hair and gathers it at the base of my neck, kissing the skin there. I gently place my hand on his leg and turn to kiss his lips.
I turn off the lights and we retreat under the covers. Exhaustion—no, contentment—settles in and we whisper observations and promises until we sleep.
Author's Note: I asked emarina what to write immediately after chapter 8. She said "chapter 9." How awesome is she?! Indeed, she is the Buttercup to my Lady. Also, a quick thank you to kismetff who has been incredibly encouraging along the way!