Dinner was never fancy unless Greasy Sae prepared it. When it was either just me or me and Peeta, dinner was a simple affair. He or I would fix up whatever I had recently shot, caught, or picked and there was always a loaf of fresh bread. On special occasions, I even got to enjoy a fancy pastry or a decorated cake.
Within his first three days back in District Twelve, we had fallen into the routine of taking our meals together. There was something depressing about eating alone, even if our stomachs were full and our hunger satisfied. Perhaps it was the constant reminder that we were now alone or simply it was just the joy of the company of others. The reasons behind the motives didn't matter, especially when we both gravitated toward each other. He would show up to visit and stay to eat, or vice versa. One way or another, it always seemed to work out.
After the trip into town, the last thing I wanted was to sit in the large, empty house by myself. I took immense relief in following him into the kitchen. Just his presence was comforting, though I didn't stop to allow myself to wonder why. "What are you hungry for?" he asked, as if I were the guest and he the host.
With a shrug of my shoulders, I moved deeper into the vast expanse of the kitchen. Aimlessly rooting through mostly empty cabinets, I pulled a few spices from here and there, setting them on the counter as I went. Peeta moved to the refrigerator, opening it up and pulling out a straw basket filled with fresh berries I'd collected just the day before. When he stretched him arm out to me, tipping the basket forward so I could get a look at its contents, I gave a silent nod of approval. He set them down on the counter and disappeared behind the sleek metal of the refrigerator door once more.
Everything in the house made me feel like I was in a house in the Capitol, not in own home. I had only moved into this house to afford a better standard of living for my mother and Prim. I would have moved back to our little home in a heartbeat if I could have. After everything I'd been through, the comforts of this lifestyle hardly seemed important.
I found the particular bread box I was looking for and set it down on the counter next to the basket of berries. Closing the cabinet, I effortlessly plopped myself up on the counter next to them, plucking a berry from the center of the basket and popping it into my mouth.
"Peeta," I called his name, trying to hide the mischief in my voice as I snagged the largest berry I saw. As his head appeared around the door, I took quick aim and flicked it before he had a chance to react. Though the berry bounced and fell to the floor, I took satisfaction in the fact that it had landed squarely on his closed lips. The ghost of a smile that followed was a prize in itself.
"Katniss Everdeen, playing with berries," he said, a hidden meaning buried in the words.
"They aren't nightlock," I reminded him, taking another for myself and squishing it between my teeth. They were the perfect balance between sweet and tart, and I savored the flavor. I hadn't had the chance to take Peeta into the woods with me to gather since his return, but I planned to within the coming days. It would give us something useful to do, and I hoped it would take his mind off the bakery.
"You are never going to let me live that down, are you?" he asked with a sigh as he pulled the ceramic bowl of butter from the refrigerator and closed the door. Setting it on the counter next to the bread, he moved to find a knife hidden somewhere in the chaos of the drawers.
"Probably not," I answered truthfully, wasting no time waiting for him. By the time he had found one, I had already ripped the bread into four equal pieces.
At the sight, he shook his head in disappointment at my manners, or lack thereof. I held out a large piece of bread as a sort of apology. When he took it, I ripped off a chunk of mine and dragged the corner through the butter. We could have warmed either the bread or the butter or both, but neither of us seemed in the mood to make an ordeal out of the meal.
I waited for him to hop up onto the counter next to me, but he settled himself by leaning against the counter by my legs. "If this is your idea of cooking me dinner," I commented as I tore another piece of bread off, "you have a lot to learn."
"If that if your definition of a thank you," he retorted just as easily, "you do as well."
I couldn't hide the smile that turned either edge of my lips then. It was unbelievable to be standing in the kitchen, joking with him. There had been a time when everything about Peeta hurt me, and everything about me hurt him, thanks to Snow. And for a while, I wasn't sure we would ever get past that moment. This moment felt like such a huge step forward, and my heart swelled to think he truly was cured from the effects of the tracker jacker venom.
Sure, he still had moments where he had to root himself back into realty. But then again, so did I. In that moment, however, the possibilities felt endless. "You should stay tonight," I told him, the words tumbling out before I even thought about what they meant or how they sounded. To hide myself from his steady, questioning gaze, I then busied myself with stuffing my mouth full of berries to keep from blurting out anything else.
I had only been thinking about, or perhaps longing for, the feeling his presence had brought me on the train and on our Victory Tour. After escaping from the arena the second time, I had hardly had time to sleep, but when I did even Prim's closeness was not always enough to drive off the nightmares that plagued my sleep. Peeta had an uncanny way of keeping the monsters at bay, and I missed that. When I could stop myself from worrying about him or my mother for the past six months, I slept fitfully and often woke drenched in sweat and still screaming. I even had Haymitch knocking down my front door one particularly horrid night.
Just the possibility of a decent night's sleep was alluring, and that was likely the reasoning behind the sudden exclamation that sounded like so much more. I couldn't bear to look at him while I awaited a response and moved back to my bread once I swallowed the mouthful of berries.
"My house is awfully lonely," he mused, though he made no indication of what he meant by the words. He was teasing me, as if thinking I would beg him to consider my proposition. I would not beg, no matter how much I longed to fall asleep in the security of his arms again. I would never make him feel inclined to do anything for me ever again. I had vowed that to myself after seeing the heinous way he had been used as a tool against me because of his affections toward me. I would never use him. Any and everything he did, it would be of his own volition.
As we continued to eat in relative silence, it dawned on me that he had never actually answered my question. Though, I realized, I hadn't really phrased it as a question to begin with. Darkness fell completely outside, leaving us under the artificial glow of the soft lights in the kitchen. Once I had taken my fill of bread and berries, I returned both to their rightful homes.
Turning to Peeta, I prepared myself to say goodnight. But he was already moving through the house, away from the front door and towards the stairs that led upstairs. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and followed him.