I fail to see the allure. Sitting at the table opposite Maggie with baby Tommy on her lap I can't find anything about the little being that I find particularly swoon worthy. He is seven months old now, his hand shoved in his mouth with drool spilling out of him at an alarming rate. Maggie says he might be getting his first tooth. Personally I think he just doesn't grasp the meaning of hygiene, or proper table manners.
We are at the bakery, gathered for one of the family dinners Peeta and I both dislike. Scotti and Allie, married for a little over three months, have just made the happy announcement that Tommy is getting a cousin next year. I try to read the expression on Peeta's face after this news. He seems rather happy. He was very excited to be an uncle when Tommy was on the way but I have been wondering if perhaps the shine is off the apple now and each new niece or nephew only serves to remind him of the children he's determined not to have.
Mrs. Mellark is strangely pleased with the news, just as she was about Ryean's and Maggie's announcement. It's startling to see her dote upon her grandson, well, dote as much as she is capable of. Maybe children don't bother her until they start to walk and talk.
In-between cooing over the baby and telling Scotti and Allie how pleased she is she keeps sending looks at Peeta, clearly showing her displeasure with him for failing to bring her grandchildren. I take his hand under the table to show him I am aware of what she is doing and that he has my support.
Things were rather awkward between us when we got back to the district after the Games but it only took a week or two before we fell back into old routines. I just wish he would open up more to me and let me past the wall he has built. I know that's futile since he built the wall to keep me out but I hate it more and more as time goes on. I have noted however that since Gale and I haven't spent any time together outside the woods in the past month Peeta has started to warm up to me again. When I wake from my nightmares he sometimes holds me so gently that I can feel the love I hope he still feels for me.
"I hope your brothers' children will put some sense into your head" Mrs. Mellark says towards the end of the deal, finally adding words to her looks. "It's about time you got over yourself."
"Mother you know Katniss and I aren't going to have children and you know why" answers Peeta patiently.
"Right… And your brothers are mere… breeders for the Hunger Games, was it?"
"Mother you know what tends to happen to the children of victors" says Peeta in a very low voice, so low I'm not even sure she heard it.
Thankfully the baby takes this moment to haphazardly toss the old wooden rattle he's been playing with down on the floor, letting out a loud wail at the loss of the toy. The slight commotion that ensues leads to Maggie rising from the table and taking the baby, rattle now in hand, out of the room with Ryean and Allie hot on her heels. Abruptly I push my chair back and get up on my feet.
"Well this has been lovely as always" I say, "but it's a long walk home and it's already getting dark. Peeta?"
If he's surprised by my announcement that we're leaving, an hour earlier than we usually do, he doesn't show it. His mother doesn't even seem displeased to be rid of us, though his father sighs and looks dejected. Peeta congratulates Scotti again on his upcoming fatherhood and then we hurriedly move to the door and put our coats and boots on.
"You will come again soon, right?" says Peeta's father, who followed us to the door.
Peeta looks up from tying his shoelaces.
"Yeah. Of course."
I'm not entirely sure he means it but it's hard to say no to the gentle baker. I like to think that everything good about Peeta came from him. I cannot imagine a single personality trait he could have inherited from his mother. I can't even imagine that he was brought up by somebody like her. The contrast between his goodness and her coldness is one of the few things that makes me feel hopeful when I think about us having children. I am fairly sure I will be wasted as a mother but I know I will never be as bad as she is, and if she and a gentle baker could raise somebody like Peeta then Peeta and I can surely raise some pretty remarkable kids.
I feel Peeta's hand on my back, a signal that he's ready to leave. I grab my hat and put it on, giving Peeta's father a light hug and a kiss on the cheek before I follow Peeta out into the darkening evening. Snow has begun to fall, the first of the season, an early premiere since it's only October. Side by side we begin to walk back home as the flakes hit the ground and melt.
"I'm happy for Scotti" says Peeta, surprising me by wanting to talk at this point and by sounding much more content than he usually does after having left his parents. I guess he won't be needing to clean Haymitch's kitchen tonight, for once. "I think he will be a good father. I know he's apprehensive, actually. He worries about being able to support a family and he's scared his kids will get reaped. He never talks about it in detail but he's hinted at how he doesn't want to experience what our parents did when my name was drawn."
"Your father was devastated, I'm sure" I say.
He gives me one of those looks.
"My mother doesn't want me dead, Katniss" he says, the reprimand surprisingly gentle. When he puts it like that I feel a bit ashamed.
"Sorry" I mutter. "I just can't stand how she talks to you sometimes."
"It's not so bad" he says mildly.
I disagree but I decide not to take the argument. I try to think of something else to talk about, enjoying the fact that he's so pleasantly talkative right after visiting his family, but Peeta beats me to it.
"I can't believe how much Tommy grows between each time I see him. How early can babies learn to walk and talk? I don't think I'd be surprised if he could do one or the other by the time I see him next."
"Peeta the kid can't sit upright unsupported, somebody has to hold him" I point out. "He can't crawl, much less walk. I think you're putting too much pressure on the poor kid."
Peeta laughs, a pleasant kind of laugh I don't get to hear often enough.
"Yeah I know you're right. It's still fascinating, don't you think? So much development in just a few short months of life. A few months ago he couldn't hold his head up on his own or roll over. Now he can sit up with a little help and you saw the way he moved the rattle from one hand to the other. I think it's neat."
I come close to telling him he was born to be an uncle, the comment feeling so right and so natural, but I stop myself at the last second because I realize it wasn't an uncle he was born to be.
"Your mother seems very fond of him" I say instead, a bit of a peace offering from my earlier remark.
"She is. I think she enjoys being a grandmother more than motherhood because she doesn't have to feel the responsibility that Tommy is fed and clothed and all that."
I can barely resist rolling my eyes. Since the baby has turned six months and can't get by on just breast milk any more Ryean and Maggie have become very interested in stopping by for a meal once a week. It doesn't take a big leap to surmise that they're probably hoping we can help feed them and their child without having to ask us outright. I respect that. I'm not overly fond of having them over but it's usually just for an hour or two and Peeta lights up at their visits.
The snow begins to fall more heavily as we make our way towards the Victors' Village. The flakes become larger and Peeta refers to it as "snowing mittens", a merchant expression I've heard from my mother on occasion but never really understood. The sky is less dark now that snow is falling and when we draw near the Village I stop to admire the beauty of the snowfall in the light from the lampposts. Peeta stops as well and leans his head back, drawing a deep breath.
"I love the first snow" he says.
"Why?" I question. Snow means cold and difficulty finding food.
"It's so beautiful. The air seems fresher. Before the snow comes everything is so dark and dreary. Snow lights things up."
I nod slowly, acknowledging that he has a point. A small smile comes over my face. I do remember when Prim and I were little and we used to love sitting by the window and watching the snow fall. When I was too young and too innocent to understand the true hardships of life the first snowfall did evoke a happy feeling in me too.
Spontaneously I open my mouth to try and catch the large snowflakes, just like my sister and I used to do back when we were comparatively care-free and our father would take us outside to enjoy the snow. Peeta chuckles when he sees what I'm doing but it's a pleasant, friendly sound and I don't mind it. We continue to walk a bit further but stop beneath the light from the lamppost.
"There's something special about the first snow" he says. "Admit it."
"It's not so bad" I smile.
Large flakes have caught in his blonde curls and the sight fascinates me. I reach up and brush some of it away but moments later new flakes have taken their place. Peeta smiles at me, snowflakes stuck on his eyelashes even. On their own accord my fingers move from his hair down his cheeks, brushing faintly at the corners of his mouth. I try to remember the last time I felt this much at peace. We haven't been this relaxed in each other's company since the wedding and in this moment I realize how much I've missed him.
When I lean closer and kiss him it feels only natural. His lips are a bit chilly from the outdoor temperature but at the same time there's a warmth there. He seems calm and composed, participating in the kiss but not pushing it any further than I am, letting me take the lead. I pull back slightly and look into his eyes. Then I kiss him again and to my own surprise I find myself prodding at him to open his mouth to me. When he does something stirs inside of me. That hunger which I've only felt once before, in the cave in the arena.
I don't know if it's the setting or if it's the fact that this is our first ever kiss without an audience, the first kiss that is only for us, but there's a pleasant stirring feeling deep down in my belly and a kind of hunger I've never felt before rises in me. It spreads throughout my whole body, making me warm even though it's cold outside. Without noticing how it really happened I'm suddenly wrapped in Peeta's arms, my own arms pressing him close, my right hand tangling in his hair. Every time our lips part I fill my lungs with air and go in for another kiss. Just one more. Always at least one more. I can't seem to get enough. I don't ever want it to stop.
When it does stop it's Peeta who puts an end to it. He leans his head back, his Adams apple bobbing when he swallows, and even though our lips have parted long enough for me to be able to come to my senses I'm not the least bit uncomfortable standing so close with him like this. In fact I want to be even closer, if that's at all possible.
"We're going to get frostbite if we stay out here" says Peeta finally, a small smile on his lips. "Come. Let's go home."
Hand in hand we walk the rest of the way home in silence. Once we are indoors there's an awkward moment when neither one of us seems to know what to do now. We take off our coats, boots, hats and gloves without speaking or looking at each other and then Peeta walks up the stairs to our bedroom. I feel nervous and excited all at once as I bite my bottom lip and then follow. I have a vague idea what this might be leading up to. It's something that has to happen at some point and maybe it's best if it happens like this, without me having time to overthink or prepare myself too much. Besides, the kissing felt so great that I want to try it again and see if it still feels that way. Whatever happens after that, I'm sure I will be in safe hands with Peeta.
We've barely reached our bedroom before we're kissing again and it feels just as good this time. Somehow we end up on the bed, Peeta lying half on top of me, our hands roaming as our mouths lock together. I can't believe something we've done so often can feel so much different when there are no eyes watching us. Maybe I haven't really allowed myself to experience Peeta before now, too preoccupied in playing the role of lovesick girl.
When he pulls away and lifts himself up on his elbow I expect him to start undressing me, or maybe take his own clothes off. I have little more than a basic understanding of sex but I expect Peeta to know better than I do what is about to happen and to guide me through it. Instead he just looks at me with a strange glint in his eyes and I begin to feel uncomfortable. I squirm a little under his gaze.
"Something wrong?" I ask.
"No" he says, breathing heavily. "Nothing's wrong. It's time to stop, though."
Stop? I lift myself up on my elbows and frown so deeply that I'm almost squinting. I thought we were just getting started.
"Why should we stop?" I ask. "Shouldn't we…" I'm too bashful and inexperienced to put words to the desire that's been growing in me.
"I desire you" he says, as casually as if he was telling me he considers us friends. "This is about as much as I can handle in one evening and still being able to…" He pauses before he can finish the sentence, then continues with a slightly regretful tone. "This can't end in sex and it will be way too difficult to abstain if we keep at it for much longer."
"You're overthinking" I say, eager to get back to kissing. "Whatever happens let's just let it happen." I lay back down and caress his cheek with one hand. "It will be fine."
"No" he protests. "Nothing has changed. Not really. I'm loving this, what we've been doing tonight, but…"
"But what? We're supposed to have sex at some point. If it happens tonight then what's the problem?"
"I'm not sure what's different with you tonight" he says, looking at me in a way that's both loving and disappointed. "Don't get me wrong, I think it's quite lovely, but still… Whatever it is, it's not love. And I can't sleep with you without that."
"Peeta for crying out loud" I groan. Since when is he that much of a romantic? "What does it matter? I want this, whatever this is. Wasn't that the problem before? That I wasn't sure if I wanted it?" I take his face between my palms and look him deep in the eyes. "It's not going to be rape. It's my choice. If it does go that far tonight, which it doesn't even have to."
"It's not just about that."
"Then what?" I ask, growing increasingly frustrated.
"It's difficult enough living with you and feeling this way about you, knowing that it's unrequited. If we have sex it's not going to mean to you what it means to me and that would hurt too much, Katniss."
Yet again Peeta has managed to throw me a reminder of his undying love for me when I don't have the first idea how to respond to it. Realizing I'm not going to get any further with him tonight I let my arms fall back down and I let out a groan. There's a hunger in me tonight that I need to have satiated and right now I'm angry with Peeta for making me feel this way and then refusing to see it through till its end. I'm sick and tired of everything related to his supposed undying love for me and how it only seems to restrain him, not make him bolder or more eager. He's so different in that regard from Gale, who would go after what he wants if he saw the slightest chance of getting it. Peeta's way of retreating frustrates me to no end sometimes.
"You need to let that stuff go, Peeta" I say. "I'm serious. I'm sick of having this discussion over and over. We both know that sooner or later we have to have sex."
"Yeah we're just a couple of prostitutes" sighs Peeta with irritation, flopping down next to me on the bed.
"I didn't mean it like that" I say, highly uncomfortable with that characterisation. "Will it really be so terrible?"
He looks at me for almost a full minute before he answers.
"No, I don't think it will be terrible. It just won't be what it ought to be. It will be one more lie. Do you think it's easy for me to have the illusion of all the things I wanted, knowing it will never be more than that? I'd rather not be in your life at all than have everything between us be fake."
"It's not" I argue softly.
"Of course it is." He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the ceiling. "I know you saved our lives in the arena but you don't know how often I wish you would have let me die instead."
The fear that grips my heart when he says that almost makes it difficult to breathe. I swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. Despite how difficult things have been I cannot imagine my life without him. How would I handle being a mentor, being a victor at Snow's mercy, or even just living my day to day life without him? Nobody truly understands those aspects of my life except for him. What's more, I've really begun to appreciate his diplomatic outlook on the troubles we face and I feel like he grounds me and offers me viewpoints that aren't founded in anger and frustration. Then there's the simple fact of what a genuinely good person he is, and how he deserves to live more than most victors. The thought that he might not always want to live terrifies me.
"I can't imagine having to deal with the nightmares and the… emotional mess… without you" I say.
"Of course you can. You did absolutely fine until the Victory Tour."
"I wasn't fine" I object.
"You were fine enough. Look, I'm not saying I'm ungrateful to you because I'm not. It's just hard to ignore that everyone I care about would have been better off if I had died."
"Peeta…" I begin, shocked that he would think that.
"Never mind" he cuts me off. He sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed. "Ignore me, I'm just… rambling. The point is that I'm not okay with any kind of sexual arrangement under the circumstances so let's agree not to venture too close to anything like that."
"I don't see what the problem is" I say, oddly feeling more at ease discussing this than the possibly much heavier topic Peeta brought up moments ago. "I like what we were doing five minutes ago. I won't mind taking it further. Isn't that enough?"
"Of course it isn't." He gets off the bed and walks towards the dresser to grab a t-shirt to sleep in. "Attraction is not the same thing as having genuine feelings for someone. I've been attracted to the girls I've slept with but I wasn't in love with them."
"Oh…"
A strange emotion fills me. I had no idea Peeta wasn't a virgin. I've sometimes wondered but I've never come around to ask. If he was a virgin that would help explain why he's so reluctant to have sex with me since he would be probably as nervous as I can be about it. It really bothers me to think that he's been with other girls. Kissed them, touched them, done things with them that he refuses to do with me. That other girls have gotten to feel his naked skin on theirs when I am denied that. It's crazy but it hurts to realize I wasn't his first kiss and I won't be his first sexual partner.
"Anyway…" says Peeta, stopping by the door to the bathroom. He gives me a crooked smile. "Tonight was lovely. I just think we're both better off remembering what is real and what is not."
He goes inside the bathroom to change and get ready for bed but I barely hear him or notice that he leaves the room. My mind is too wrapped up in the thought of him with other girls.
These girls he's slept with, was he with them before the 74th games? He certainly made himself out to be a romantically shy boy who had only ever had eyes for me during his interview with Caesar. But if he hadn't slept with those girls at that point then he did it sometime in-between the Games and our wedding. That is even worse. I cannot imagine that he would take advantage of his popularity as a victor to get somebody into bed but the other alternative doesn't add up either.
He comes out of the bathroom dressed in his pyjama pants and a t-shirt and stops by the bed. It takes me a moment to realize he's waiting for me to get off it so he can pull the bedspread off and get underneath the covers. Reluctantly I scoot off the bed and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth, my mind going a mile a minute around these not-so-pleasant queries.
Once my teeth are brushed I pull my shirt over my head and then I pause. I can't help but wonder – how would he react if I were to walk out there buck naked? The temptation of finding out is almost strong enough that I decide to go through with it but then I suddenly feel very shy at the thought of being naked in front of him. Without further ado I slip into my pyjamas and head back out.
I get into bed beside him and wonder what we'll do from this point. Kiss goodnight? Awkwardly tell each other to sleep well? I look over at Peeta and he is smiling at me, calm and relaxed, and I can't help but return his smile. After all, I made quite a lot of headway today. If I can get this far with him I can undoubtedly get further.
I fall asleep lying close beside him, thinking about the way his kisses made me feel.
The expression "snowing mittens" is an expression we use in Sweden (well, we say snowing "lapphandskar", sami mittens... not all too far-fetched actually when you take a look at them blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Lovikka-v%C3% ). I don't know why I included all that pointless trivia, except that I personally love when it's "snowing mittens".