The shiny black half-ton shouldn't have pissed her off. She shouldn't have scowled at the way it sparkled in the late afternoon sun, shouldn't have pursed her lips and sniped that "it must be nice." Shouldn't have taken satisfaction in the hurt look on his face as she flounced self-righteously into the house. But that's exactly the way it went down. Rated M for smut and f-bombs.
Written for xerxia31's birthday on Tumblr.
The minute I heard the hum of Peeta's new truck in the driveway, I was unimpressed. It was the first major purchase by either of us since we moved in together a few months ago, and I guess I'd just assumed we'd buy our next vehicle together. After all, both of our college cars are entering into their geriatric years. His Jeep wheezes and gasps up the hill toward our little house. Every bolt in my shitty red Corolla rattles the minute I turn the key.
He was barely out of the driver's seat before he started going on and on about how useful it's going to be and how much he's going to save on Jeep repairs. He showed me the extended cab with the front bench seat and laughed about how I could snuggle up beside him.
I couldn't enjoy his enthusiasm. I was too upset that he left me out of the decision-making. But since I'm the one to blame for that, I can't complain.
His. Mine. Ours. When we set up our house, I neatly divided everything in my mind. His money, my money. His crap, my treasures. My couch is in our living room. His easel is in what should be our dining room, but since neither of us had a table and the light was best in there, that's where it ended up.
I'm the one who insisted on maintaining our separate accounts and each writing a cheque for half of the rent every month. Our shared bills were divided equally and in spite of his protests that he could cover the groceries every week, I faithfully stand at the cash every second trip to the market, while he packs the bags and I ignore his frowns.
And so the shiny black half-ton shouldn't have pissed me off. After all, its his, paid for by his money from his trust fund. I shouldn't have scowled at the way it sparkled in the late afternoon sun, shouldn't have pursed my lips and sniped that "it must be nice." Shouldn't have taken satisfaction in the hurt look on his face as I flounced self-righteously into the house. But that's exactly the way it went down.
Now it's getting dark outside and I'm lying alone on our bed (his mattress, my frame) and I'm feeling increasingly petty and horribly, overwhelmingly guilty for spoiling his joy over his new purchase.
Peeta's feet thud up the stairs and I hold my breath, hoping he's coming in to check on me, but he doesn't. Instead the bathroom fan buzzes while he bangs around in there before pounding back down the steps. He opens the front door, slams it closed and then it whooshes open minutes later as he comes in. Back up the staircase, more banging, then out the door again.
Next, he's rattling around the kitchen beneath me. The cupboard doors clatter, the dishes rattle, the fridge door opens and closes a few times then he's out and in the door one more time. It happens again before I figure it out.
Peeta is leaving me.
I've done it. I've finally pushed him away. I suppose it was just a matter of time before he figured out what a selfish, insecure pain in the ass I can be and decided that enough was enough.
Alone in the growing darkness, I listen to him moving about the house while my heart bleeds out onto our bed. I clutch his pillow, inhaling the musky male scent that permeates everything he owns and appreciating the way it mingles with the spicy smell of his shampoo. My tears fall a little faster as I realize this is the last time I'll be able to enjoy it.
The bedroom door swings open and I'm bathed in the overhead light, squinting toward the door frame where Peeta stands with his hands on his hips, watching me with a displeased look on his face. He sighs.
"I need you to get up."
I scramble off the bed, still clinging to his pillow. I watch, the golf ball-sized lump in my throat growing ever larger, as he strips the mattress of its comforter and my pillow. I want to scream, to cry, to beg him not to do this, but the words can't make their way past the suffocating barrier and even if I could reach down deep enough to pull them out, anything I'd say would probably just make things worse anyway. Nevertheless, when he attempts to pull his pillow from my clutches, I manage to gasp out two.
"Peeta, please."
He stares down at me for what feels like an eternity. I'm afraid to move in case I jinx it all. Finally, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, pulling the pillow from my arms. He's on his way out the door, his arms full of our bedding, when he glances over his shoulder at my crumpled frame standing in the middle of the room.
"Get in the truck, Katniss."
I can't speak without crying, so I just follow. I can't even look at what's heaped up in the backseat as I clamber up into the truck. Peeta shoves our blanket and pillows on top of the pile and jumps into the driver's seat. Before long, we're on the main road leading out of town. I stare out the passenger's side window, refusing to enjoy how much higher the truck sits than my little car. I don't notice how comfortable the seats are and pay no attention to the glow of the satellite radio or the gizmos and gadgets on the dash.
Instead, my eyes flit toward Peeta. He's drumming on the steering wheel while he chews on his lower lip. I wait for him to spit it out.
"You know I don't care about the money. I've never cared about the money."
I snort. Peeta and I went to the same private university. I was there on a scholarship, which meant I spent every minute that I wasn't with Peeta studying or working, just to be able to stay there. Peeta had a wrestling scholarship, but even if he'd been dropped from the team, his successful parents would have been able to cover his tuition. Frankly, they could have paid for any school he wanted to attend. "So says the guy who's never had to worry about money a day in his life. Trust me, it's important."
"Fuck! Katniss!" Peeta slams his hand on the steering wheel. "You're being completely unfair. I don't waste money. I live a simple life. And yeah, I have a bit of a cushion, one I'd share with you if you'd let me, but you won't."
I huff and resume watching out the window. Peeta's mother has been looking for evidence that I want Peeta for his money since the day she found out about me. But I don't say that to Peeta. I don't say anything, I just stare into the night as the the streetlights stretch farther and farther apart until the only light left is the glow of the headlamps on the pavement. When we pass a meadow and enter the woods that span between our town and the next, Peeta hangs a right onto a dirt road.
Usually, we take his Jeep when we travel off road, but even in four-wheel drive, the old beast would struggle with the grade of the hill we're climbing now. The new truck, however, handles it just fine and before long, we're parked in a clearing at the top of a steep hill overlooking the valley where we live.
Peeta turns off the truck and we watch the twinkling lights below us in silence. A sense of tranquility steals over me.
"It's beautiful," I say.
"Yeah," he acknowledges. "I've been wanting to bring you up here for awhile. C'mon." We climb out of the truck and Peeta opens the back door. He rifles through the pile until he pulls out an old blanket I had stuffed in the bathroom linen closet. "Grab some of those cushions," he directs as he rounds the bed of the truck and lowers the tailgate.
The pile in the truck turns out to be mostly blankets and pillows, and strangely enough, the cushions off our couch. I grab a couple and pass them up to Peeta, who has spread the blanket on the bedliner. He accepts them gratefully and send me off for more. We work quickly in the dark, me tossing cushions and blankets and pillows up to Peeta until he's made a cozy bed. I find a cooler on the floor of the truck and hand that up as well.
When I pass him our comforter, he gives me a soft smile, one I haven't seen since we woke at the beginning of this awful day I wish I could start over. "Get our pillows and get up here," he instructs. Before long I'm scrambling up beside him. Peeta takes a pillow, settles into the plush surroundings and then holds out his arms to me. I snuggle up beside him, grateful for the armistice. We stare up at the stars and listen to the crickets.
"I really needed a new vehicle, Katniss," he says into the night.
"I know. I need one too."
"I thought if I had a truck, we could enjoy the outdoors more - camping and dates like this in the truck bed, that kind of thing. I know how much you enjoy it."
He's right about that. The great outdoors is my natural habitat. My need to be in the woods is as important to my survival as breathing. I chose environmental sciences specifically so I could get outside for at least part of every day. And while Peeta has always been willing to load up his Jeep on a Saturday morning and travel off the beaten path with me, the truck is more powerful and more practical. We'll be able to do some serious wilderness camping.
But if he were buying a vehicle for his purposes alone, it would be a sporty car or another Jeep. With that thought, I can no longer ignore the obvious.
Peeta bought the truck for me.
"Fuuuuck," I hiss and bury my face in his shoulder.
He snorts. "Finally figured it out, did you?"
I nod, but I don't lift my head. I'm too busy trying to calculate how to contribute to the monthly payments.
"Whatever is going on in your head right now, Katniss, you can just forget about it. It's my truck, which I decided to buy with my money. You can replace your piece of shit on wheels with a good used car and we'll have what we need."
"Peeta, I-"
He puts his finger over my lips. "We are not going to argue about how I spend my money."
I open my mouth and close it again.
"Later I plan to give you shit for doubting me," he scolds, and then the frown on his face twists into a crooked smile that makes everything alright with the world. And it will be, as long as we have each other. "So," he pauses, one eyebrow quirking up with mischief. "Now that we've settled that, I've been thinking about getting you in the back of this truck since the moment I saw it on the lot." He urges me on top of him. His hands slide into the back pockets of my jeans, pulling me close enough to feel his erection through his pants. His hands slide down my hips before curling under to stroke the backs my thighs that straddle his. I press myself against him and enjoy his grunt of pleasure before slipping my hands under his shirt and tugging it upwards.
My tongue flicks across his nipples and then my lips find the spot where his pulse flutters at his throat and I suckle it shamelessly. He gasps a little and my hips grind against him again. Peeta curses, quickly removing my shirt and effortlessly unhooking my bra before tossing it aside. I rise up, gazing down at the man I love, enjoying the way the stars sparkle in his eyes. I continue to grind against his hardness, enjoying the little shock of pleasure it brings. I lick my lips and reach for the button of my jeans.
"I need you to fuck me," I tell him, drawing down my zipper. The next thing I know, I'm on all fours in the next in the back of the truck, Peeta positioning himself behind me before driving deep inside.
I let out a low moan of pleasure as we begin to move. The cool night air is tingling against the wet heat clinging to my lower lips. Peeta's hand snakes around to rub my clit and I buck back against him. In the dead of night, with no one but mother nature as our witness, we are as wild and untamed as any of her creatures.
His free hand tangles in my hair. I clench around him , milking every bit of pleasure I can as we race toward our destination. I can feel it, just out of reach and I strain toward it as Peeta's thrusts begin to lose their rhythm.
"Katniss," he calls and his touch between my legs becomes both more determined and more frantic. A high-pitched keening noise fills the air as my soul takes flight and Peeta joins me soon after. We fall into a sweaty heap on the pile of blankets.
"Don't ever doubt me again," Peeta whispers into my shoulder. "I love you, Katniss. I'm not going anywhere."
I nod. "I'll allow it." I can't see him from behind me, but I know he's rolling his eyes. "I love you too, Peeta. And I'm sorry about today."
He shrugs. "It's over now. And I should have told you my plans. I figured it would be less complicated if I surprised you." We both dissolve into snorts of laughter. "Now, tell me about the stars."
I take his hand in mine and begin to trace the constellations, showing Peeta the daydreams of the ancients, and for the first time all day, I think the truck might actually have been a good idea.