I had a hard time sleeping again that night. It was like I couldn't shut my mind up long enough to fall into the nothingness I was craving. Every time I managed to, Peeta seemed to move and immediately his face would pop back into my head. I couldn't stop thinking about him and his damn puppy-like personality, or the fact that I had admitted that I didn't want to kill him. It was a miserable thing to have on my mind, especially here in the arena where eventually I would be forced to kill Peeta or be killed by Peeta. I wasn't sure which was worse, really.

I was consoled by the fact that Peeta seemed to be having an equally difficult time sleeping that night. Every few minutes he'd toss or turn, and one time I could have sworn I heard him sigh in exasperation. I wondered what he was thinking about that was keeping him awake, and if it was as frustrating and strange as the problem I was experiencing. Like that was even possible.

When everyone else started stirring in the early hours of light the next day, I had achieved maybe an hour of sleep and wanted to punch everyone that made a single noise. Peeta stirred, and my eyes flickered unwillingly to him as he sat up and stretched, muscles contorting in ways that did nothing to make me feel less uncomfortable about what I had done the day before. He turned and glanced sleepily at me, blinking several times to clear his vision.

"You look like shit," he mumbled, followed immediately by a yawn.

"Yeah, and you look fabulous, sleeping beauty," I grumbled back at him, running a hand through my hair and likely making it stand up on the ends. I probably looked like a member from one of the dumb boy bands people in the Capitol loved so much.

"I guess I am kind of hot," he laughed, flopping back down onto his sleeping bag. "How did you sleep last night?"

"About as well as you did," I answered absentmindedly, trying to focus on the shadow of a bug on the wall of the tent and not about how Peeta would look pinned to his sleeping bag. Not that that was on my mind or anything, no, of course not.

"I barely slept at all," Peeta said as though I wasn't aware. "It's terrible. I think the arena is freaking me out or something. I sleep like a log at home."

"Sorry, it's me," I said, barely realizing that I was playfully teasing him. "I frequently keep people awake at night." For a moment I thought I had pushed things too far, because it took Peeta a moment to reply.

"Yeah, you should stop being so darned attractive," he said with a grin. "At least the noise didn't wake anyone up."

Marvel, who was casually tucking a knife in his pocket turned around with wide eyes. "What?" he asked in horror. "Please tell me you aren't serious."

Peeta quickly put a very business-like expression on his face. "Would I joke about something like that?" he asked in a voice you might hear a strict father use.

"In the tent? Oh god, that's nasty!" Marvel looked ready to cry. "Dude, guys, that's gross. Do it in the woods or something."

"The woods? Good god man, think of the sticks!" Peeta was struggling to keep up his serious façade, but the snickers were starting to sneak through. I just put my head in my hands and groaned.

"Peeta, shut your face, please."

"Please?" he repeated in surprise. A grin grew on his face again. "Well… because you said please, I suppose I'll have to listen."

I rolled my eyes and turned to Marvel. "Go. Outside," I ordered him. He nodded and nearly tripped himself up as he stumbled out of the tent. Clearly my word was still law, but Peeta was messing with that a little more than I wanted him to.

"That was funny," the demon baker chuckled to himself, laying back down and shutting his eyes.

"Completely hilarious," I growled, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. "You do realize I have to maintain some form of a reputation in this place, right?"

"Oh calm down," Peeta replied, eyes still closed. "We all know you're big and bad. Ooga booga and all that."

That was it. He crossed the line. I launched myself from my sleeping bag and landed on his unsuspecting form, quickly straddling his chest and bringing a knife up to hold at his throat. His eyes flashed open and quickly flickered from my face to the knife that he was being threatened with.

"Do not push me," I hissed. "I am on my last nerve, and I will use this knife, right here, right now."

Peeta, to my shock, merely scowled at me. "You're heavy. Get off."

"Excuse me?" I couldn't hide my surprise; it was all over my face. "I don't really think you're in the place to be making demands right now."

He looked to the side and sighed when he saw that everyone had gone outside. "Sorry," he apologized sarcastically. "Would you like me to pretend to be terrified? I'm not a very good actor, but I can try."

"Why aren't you scared?" I asked. I sounded miserable, like a whiny kid that didn't get his toy truck. "I'm telling you I'll kill you, and you don't even look like you care."

He was silent for a moment. "Well…" he started slowly. "You said you didn't want to kill me. I don't think you would over something like this."

"How do you know that?" I whispered back. "You saw me kill at the Cornucopia, you know I can do it."

"I trust you," he said quietly, looking me straight in the eyes. "I probably shouldn't, but I do." His hand came up to my face and he touched my cheek gently. I instinctively leaned into the touch, but when I realized what I was doing, I panicked.

"Shit!" I leapt off him again, and without a single backward glance, I sprinted out of the tent.

I ran until I felt like my chest was going to explode from the strain. When I finally stopped, I was pretty far in the forest, and only had a little knife as a weapon. Oh well, I didn't really care at that point. Angrily, I flopped down on the hard ground and leaned against a tree. All in all, not the most comfortable way to be spending my morning.

But it was either that or stay back with Peeta where my emotions were getting way too out of hand. I had no idea what to think about Peeta, or anything he did. What did he think of me? Before he had made it clear that he wouldn't mind becoming friends, but I was confused. Why did he even want to be friends with someone that held a knife to his throat? And how could he possibly trust me after I did that? I knew he was strange, but this was really crossing some sort of line.

Suddenly, there was a rustle in the tree above me. I leapt away from it and pulled the knife from my waistband simultaneously, staring up through the leaves with my eyes narrowed, searching for the source. A few seconds later, a black and white bird flew out, singing a song that was disturbingly human sounding, and not the usual chirping of your average flying fiend. (Not going to lie, I hated birds. Back in District 2, a huge one attacked me while I was training in the fitness yard. I still had talon marks on my back.)

I lowered my weapon slightly, but not completely. I had a right to be suspicious, anyway. Normally I would never venture out alone like this; it was a stupid move in an arena full of people that wanted you dead. I was probably on the 'most wanted' list of everyone in here, although I knew a couple who held a strong grudge against Katniss. I didn't particularily want to run into her either. There was something dangerous about her, an aura or something. I didn't trust it.

Another sound caused me to whip around with the knife held up again, this time towards something that was approaching on foot. They weren't taking care to be quiet and the footfalls were heavy, so I assumed it was one of the guys in the arena. I hoped it wasn't Thresh. A few seconds later, the person was revealed.

Nope. Not Thresh.

Peeta.

"What are you doing here?" I asked slowly, taking a step backwards automatically. Was he planning to kill me before it came down to it later? I wasn't sure I could go down without a fight. My pride couldn't handle such a mortal wound.

"Looking for you," he answered simply, grabbing the hilt of a sword that was attached to his belt. I tensed as he drew it. "Here," he said to my surprise, handing the weapon to me, blade towards himself.

"What?" I asked, blinking stupidly.

He rolled his eyes. "Take it," he ordered, and I did. "I know all you've got is a tiny knife."

"That's what you think," I mumbled to myself.

"Anyway, I went searching for you after you ran off. I suck at tracking, but you were running so the prints were easy to follow." He shrugged. "I was worried."

Shit. He was worried? About me? Because I ran off? He's doing it again. "It" referring to how he kept making my idiotic emotions go wild in ways I didn't want them to. I had come here to escape him and those thoughts, but yet he still managed to interfere. I wasn't sure whether I was mad, upset, or happy. Wait, happy? No, that wasn't supposed to be on that list. I meant violent. Yeah.

"No need to worry, I can take care of myself," I said quietly, leaning against the tree and keeping my eyes on him. He took a few steps forward so he was not even a foot away from me, and I leaned as far back into the tree as I could, trying to put space between us.

"Why do you run away whenever I touch you?" he asked curiously, holding up a hand as if to touch my face again, but thought better of it and let it fall to his side.

"You ran away before too," I reminded him, recalling how he had sprinted after we had become a tangled mess on the grass.

"That was different," he mumbled, a pink flush brightening his cheeks slightly.

"Sure."

We both stood still for a moment, both of us appraising the other. With a hesitant expression on his face, he brought his hand up again and let the back of it graze my jaw gently. I twisted away from it with a grimace.

"Am I that repulsive?" he asked in what sounded like a joking voice, but which contrasted greatly to the sad, weak smile on his face. "I thought we could be friends or something, but if you're that weirded out…"

I groaned in exasperation. Would he ever give up? "It's not you. I don't even know if it's me. It's just this whole messed up situation. I've never had friends. Now isn't the best time to start, seeing as how we're supposed to kill each other."

"I thought we agreed we didn't want to kill each other," Peeta mentioned, tilting his head to the side and reinforcing my comparison of him to a puppy.

"I don't want to kill you, but that doesn't change anything, really," I answered uncomfortably. This conversation was getting a little too in-depth, a little too emotionally charged.

"But I like you. I want to be friends," Peeta said softly. "I mean, we could try. I know the circumstances are weird, and maybe we don't go together all that well, but what if the odds are in our favour?"

"The odds are never in anyone's favour in the Hunger Games," I said. "Besides, do we really act like friends? I mean, I wouldn't know, but we don't seem to."

Peeta sighed. "I'm not asking you to be my best friend, or to die for me, or anything stupid. Can we just talk to each other without feeling the need to use violence?" he asked, looking at me with sharp eyes, probing for any reluctance. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't cringe so much when I try to touch you. I'm not going to stick a knife in your back."

"I don't know that," I replied, staring at my feet. I was, dare I say it, nervous. This whole situation had progressed past uncomfortable and into the realm of just plain fucking terrifying. "And you touching me is weird."

"Bad?" he asked, lifting his hand again with a grin.

I scowled at him. "No, just… I'm not used to the whole friendship thing, I guess. I never saw any friends back at my District act like you do towards me."

Peeta shrugged. "It's physical contact. In my District it's an expression of trust, since trust is kind of scarce." Well, that explained it. In my District, physical contact was something strange, maybe something dangerous. People usually only touched each other if they were intimate, or if they had known each other for years. Especially around the time when people were being chosen for the Games. There was a lot of betrayal then. I couldn't be blamed for being slightly disturbed by being touched.

I hesitated for a moment, heart beating a bit faster than it should have as I contemplated my next move. I took a deep breath, and just did it.

I lifted my hand and touched his face.

It was just a little touch, my fingertips barely touching his cheekbone, but electricity seemed to zing down through my arm. Clearly I needed more physical contact if something this small caused such a huge reaction. Peeta's face kind of made it worth it though; he grinned from ear to ear and lifted his own hand to touch my cheek as well.

"See? Not so bad, huh?" he said, still grinning and looking like I had made his day.

"Guess not," I mumbled. "Don't take this friends thing too far, though. We're still in the Games."

"This is enough for me," Peeta said, his giant grin softening into something more gentle. "I don't know why I've been so obsessed with being closer to you, but this is good. This works."

"Don't expect me to pour out feelings or anything either. You do that enough on your own," I added sternly. He just laughed and let his hand fall. I copied him.

"We should probably go back before they panic," he suggested, gesturing in what I assumed was the way to the camp. I nodded in agreement, and we started off again, Peeta leading the way since I was directionally impaired.

I was so distracted by the new developments and my first friend that I didn't notice the big brown eyes staring down at us from high in the tree.

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry about taking a while to post. I was going to update last Sunday, but remember that person I was interested in? Yeah, big news. We're together. So I've been a little preoccupied.

Hope you like the chapter. I personally think it was pretty good, and I'm trying to slowly build things up from what Peeta and Cato had at the beginning. I don't want to move too fast though, because that usually really annoys me.

I wrote another Cato/Peeta story. It's a one-shot (smut/lemon/rated M, etc), and I've been writing it on the side while I wrote this one. If you're interested, check it out on my profile. ("When The Night is Cold".)

I really have no words for how fantastic you guys have been as reviewers. Let me address a few questions/concerns:

I will be tweaking the story-line in places, because we all know that a lot of dumb things happen between this couple in the book, and it would be hard to write this as anything but a tragedy if I followed exactly. I hope it still seems somewhat realistic/believable though.

I intend to bring other characters in slightly, maybe just to cause some ruckus. (You can see hints of that at the end.)

By the way, know how many people have read this story in the couple of weeks it's been posted? 10. Freaking. Thousand. Holy crap guys, really? That is amazing.
I heard someone at my school the other day quoting this in the hallway. I was trying not to laugh. I literally had to put my hand over my mouth.

But yeah! Reviews to me are like bread to Peeta.

-TFPW