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The bedsheets are soft. Of higher quality than either of them is used to. It makes it seem foolish to wear something to sleep in with sheets like that. But Peeta wears shorts. He opens the covers for Katniss to slide in. What it means - maybe all it means - is no nightmares. He lies on his side. She can't see his artificial leg.
Katniss slips in bed next to Peeta, feeling his warm body through the thin but comfortable sleeping gown that Cinna chose for her a while ago. They sleep like they did during the games with Katniss pillowing her head on Peeta's arm. She snuggles closer, cheek to his chest, breathing in the scent of cinnamon, maybe clove. Peeta somehow always smells like fresh baked bread.
They're both awake. It's always hard to try and fall asleep.
Staring up at the ceiling, Peeta isn't even aware that he's running his finger along her arm; the skin's soft, polished. There is a lot they could talk about, but most of it isn't pleasant. So he stays quiet. Katniss' hair smells like flowers. Which ones he doesn't know.
"I don't want to dream," Katniss whispers quietly to Peeta knowing he'll understand. She doesn't really mean dreaming but more about them having nightmares. "I don't want to sleep."
"You won't have nightmares," he tells her, tucking his chin down to kiss her forehead. "I'm here." He wishes the paintings took the nightmares away, out of his head onto the canvas, but it doesn't work that way.
More silence stretches out between them, sharing the quiet, waiting for the nightmares to make their way to them even while still awake. Because it does that, creep into their thoughts when they least expect it.
"I wish I could forget," Katniss says it too softly, not quite aware she has spoken her thoughts aloud.
"You don't want to forget all of it, though," Peeta tells her, smiling just a little. "There's good stuff in there, too, Katniss." With some shifting, he slides down onto his side; they're nearly nose to nose. "I bet Cinna would be hurt if you forgot him."
Peeta has a point and it's a very good one. Still. "That's not what I mean," Katniss scowls because how could Peeta think of that when the bad was really, really bad. She doesn't pull away from him though, even if in her mind she wants to.
Because Peeta is an optimist, though he wouldn't use those words. "Of course it isn't what you mean. But concentrate on that," he says. He rests a hand on her cheek. "Concentrate on stepping on me in the mud." And he smiles.
When Peeta smiles it's hard not to smile back especially when his words conjure up the memory of Katniss finding Peeta so expertly camouflaged. "That was eerie and funny when I first saw you like that. Just your eyes and your smile." She touches his mouth gently, just a tip of her finger following the circle of Peeta's lips. Katniss can still imagine the way Peeta's lips feel on hers.
His hand wraps around her wrist gently, to hold her hand there and Peeta kisses her fingers. When she doesn't pull her hand away or slap him, he kisses the palm of her hand, watching her face.
Katniss first thinks of her father and how he kisses her mother's palm like that, too. She's chewing the inside of her cheek, eyes steady on Peeta, his eyes, his lips, watching, maybe waiting as well, if he's going to kiss Katniss. She realizes then that she's anxious and only because she wants to feel Peeta's lips on hers again and feel that sensation just like she did when the kissed during the games. There's still the heat of it and the inexplicable need for more.
"Peeta …" Katniss whispers his name for no other reason but to feel it pass through her lips.
"Katniss," he says as a declaration. Letting go of her wrist, he leans in, and he does kiss her, not a chaste kiss this time, but one that lingers, waiting for her permission to deepen.
There it is again, a kiss where Katniss felt both warm and curious. She wanted more back then, but now Peeta offers to give her more and she allows it. Katniss parts her lips and she feels Peeta's warm breath then the slide of his tongue that briefly startles her to gasp. Still, she doesn't pull away.
Peeta doesn't move, but Katniss can feel the way his muscles tighten; he would never hurt her or do anything she doesn't want to, but his control is wavering, his mouth pressed against hers in a way it never has before, hand straying from her cheek to her shoulder.
In Peeta's arms like this, Katniss always feels warm and safe and she feels the same now only the inexplicable yearning for more seems to take her over. She kisses Peeta back because she wants to, and she shifts, finding herself half over Peeta's body, tipping her head to the side so that the kiss would deepen even more. The movement lets Peeta's hand slide down, stopping in the small of her back.
The material is slippery and Peeta grabs a handful of it, his knuckles running along Katniss' spine. He whispers her name again, then all he does is kiss.
The gown is made of this thin, comfortable material, not the overly luxurious ones like the outfits that Cinna has designed for her to wear. It makes Katniss feel each touch and the one along her back feels exquisite, welcome. It makes Katniss press more against Peeta's chest then her fingers touch his face. "Peeta," Katniss says again, his name whispered against their lips. "Peeta …"
With a quick movement, Peeta switches their positions so that Katinss is back against the bed and Peeta is over her. He watches her for any signs before his hand slips up her ribs, cupping her breast. Then he kisses her again.
It's stronger, that feeling that Katniss first felt in the cave, magnified a thousandfold now that there are no interruptions, no one watching them. She gives up trying to figure it out, or name it, but lets things be because she feels that if Peeta stops, this hunger will never be sated. Her body responds, her back arching and then Katniss hears herself moan softly into Peeta's tender kiss.
That control wavers again and Katniss can feel Peeta's hand shake. But he doesn't move away. His hand is big, it covers her breast completely. His breath catches when he squeezes, kneading gently.
What surprises Katniss is how good it feels. Her eyes flutter, trying to stay open to keep looking at Peeta but she loses, closing them. Her lips part, her breath coming in soft pants and then her hands dare to move, sliding up and then down Peeta's bare back; they caress down Peeta's spine, she feels skin. Warm. So warm.
Peeta shivers again. Leaning up just enough to look at her face, he says, "Katniss?" And his fingers graze along the neckline of the gown.
For a long quiet moment Katniss tries to understand then when it dawns on her, her eyes widen but her body shivers. This isn't like the other girls her age who used to gather around the Peacekeeper's door. This is Peeta. The boy with the bread.
Katniss gives him a nod.
Slowly, carefully, Peeta pulls, baring first Katniss' shoulder and a collarbone. He kisses along the column of her neck, into the hollow of her collarbone. She's still too thin.
Katniss is both frightened and curious but what Peeta does with his lips make something warm simmer deep in her belly. It spreads all over her body, even to the tips of her toes. "P-Peeta ..." She murmurs, hand sliding to the back of his neck to hold him there.
"It's okay, Katniss." He lifts his head, her gown sliding back into place and he kisses her mouth. A small shift where he's not over her anymore and he's lying on his side, arm over her waist. He's flushed in the cheeks. "No nightmares."
Cupping his face in her hands that look small now, frail, even, Katniss looks right into Peeta's eyes. This, right here in Peeta's arms is the only place she knows she is safe. Katniss smiles and then she leans in and kisses him, warm and tender before she nods, whispering, "no nightmares." For either of them.
He rests his forehead against her, closing his eyes, taking long, slow, even breaths. It will be a while before he sleeps. But when he does, he'll sleep deeply and well.
In the morning, in that place between sleep and wakefulness, Katniss remembers, not a nightmare, but a dream. She in the meadow, lying on the grass, looking up at the blue sky and watching the clouds slowly move by. The smell of spring was all around her, subtle hints of dewy grass, pine and blooming flowers.
There is someone beside her. Katniss doesn't look, but she feels his hand securely clasping hers. And how many times has Peeta held her hand for her to know, without a doubt, that it's him lying there beside her? Enough for her to know that he's there.
Katniss feels the serenity of the dream, her eyes still closed when she stirs, her head resting on Peeta's chest, both their arms wrapped around each other. She smiles gently, not wanting to fully wake just yet.
So this is peace. Let them linger here. Even for only a moment.