He wants me to bake cookies.
He thinks it'll keep me busy, so I'm not in bed all day. Peeta's hands are in the bowl as he mixes the sugar cookie dough, glancing at me every few minutes to see if I'm watching him. I'm sitting on the counter because I know if I try to help, someone will die from food poisoning. I'm a horrible cook. I always have been and so has my dad. My mom is a good cook, the best in the family.
I bite my lip and glance around the kitchen. It's been two months since I've been in my house. Two months since Gale moved to District 2. Two months since my mom's been away working in a hospital. Two months since Prim died.
But it's only been one month since Peeta moved in with me. I glance back at him an feel the sudden urge to kiss him, but I can't. We haven't really...touched since he's been here. Other than sleeping in the same bed, and waking up from a nightmare with his arms wrapped tightly around me.
Peeta suddenly realizes that I've been doing nothing but sitting and thinking. He looks at me curiously and then starts to shuffle around, opening cabinets before pulling out a bowl. He looks around a bit more and finds a big bag of small, round, soft candies. Peeta sets the bowl next to my hip and leans against my knees so that his stomach is pressed into them.
I'm almost level with him, just a few inches taller. He opens the bag of candy and pours it into the bowl. He takes a spoon and hands it to me.
"Will you crush these up for me?" he askes gently, smiling at me.
I feel my stomach flutter and nod. "What're they for?"
"The cookies. I'm going to put them in them. My dad used to do it all the time. They're delicious."
I nod again and begin to crush the candy by practically stabbing it. Peeta washes his hands and grins at me. Since he's been here, he's only had four episodes, but he wouldn't ever let me help him. He said he had to figure it out on his own. I always shook my head and sighed heavily.
He comes over to where I am and covers my hand with his. "Here." He shows me the much easier way to crush the candy. His face is close to mine and he licks his lips. My stomach rolls easily at this. STOP IT, I tell myself. I always react like this when he does something so simple.
I pull the bowl from both of our hands and set it down on the counter. "Peeta," I say, frowning slightly.
"What?" he answers back.
I open my mouth to respond, but I don't. Instead, I slip my hand around the back of his neck and pull him forward until his lips meet mine.
And it's just what I need. His lips are warm and wet and my stomach tightens just at the contact. His hands grip my knees and pull me closer toward the edge of the counter. I part my lips and he groans, tightening his hands. A strange yet familiar feeling starts to collect in my chest. It was the same feeling I had in the Games, in the cave and a while later on the beach. I don't want the feeling to stop; I can't get enough of it. I can't get enough of Peeta. My tongue has a mind of its own, rubbing against Peeta's bottom lip. He makes a noise in the back of his throat.
Peeta starts to pull away, but I sort of whine and pull him back, pressing my mouth hard against his. I don't want him to go. He's all I have left and I'm all he has left. Other than Haymitch, but that's beside the point.
He pulls his lips away from mine, but I don't stop. I kiss across his cheek and jaw before going down his neck. His hands are still on my knees, massaging lightly. I rest my lips where his shoulders and neck meet. I bite his neck softly (something I would usually never do, but I feel enthusiastic). He groans louder and slides me closer.
I start sucking lightly on his neck, feeling my face heat up in embarrassment. I guess Peeta was right; I am kind of "innocent". He presses his nose into the top of my head and kisses me there.
Suddenly, his grip on my knees turn hard, so hard it starts to become painful. I pull away, wondering if he wanted me to stop. But his eyes are squeezed tight and he's turned pale. He's having an episode.
"Peeta," I whisper, running my fingers over his cheek. He jerks away from me and shakes his head violently.
"Peeta, it's okay. It's not real, it's not real. We're in my kitchen, making cookies, having fun. It's not real. I'm here, we're here, Peeta." His eyes loosen a bit but he still shakes his head.
"Peeta," I breathe. I lean in and press my lips softly against his until he relaxes. He jerks his hands away from me and looks away, ashamed.
"I'm sorry," he says, walking back over to the cookie dough. I slide off the counter and walk over to him, wrapping my arms around his middle from behind.
"It's okay. You don't have to say you're sorry, I know you can't control them."
I kiss his shoulder and press my cheek against his back. He rubs my hands locked somewhere around his bellybutton.
"I love you," I murmur into his back. He pauses briefly and I know he's thinking. He does this a lot. I'll say something and he'll have to think about it, think past the tracker jacker poison and consider what I said. Maybe I've said it before, maybe I haven't, he's not sure.
I haven't said I loved him in a long while and I know what Peeta's thinking.
Does she mean it this time?
I squeeze him tighter and say it again, adding, "I mean it, Peeta. I love you."
He pries my arms off him and turns around, holding onto my wrists. "You mean it." It's not a question. I nod and swallow hard.
He tugs me into his arms and I bury my face in his chest.
"I love you too, Katniss. This IS real, right?" he whispers.
"Yes, Peeta. Real."
A/N: I'm kind of having writers block, so this didn't really go the way I wanted it to, but now that I've got the juices flowing, hopefully the next chapter will be better (cross your fingers! I haven't written in a while!) Well, please review. I'm not used to writing in present tense or 1st person so I might change it to past tense and 3rd person. I don't know why, but I write better that way.
Again, review please((: