Peeta

There is a chilled breeze that hits my body. I open my eyes. I don't see anything familiar until I look down. A small smile grows on my face. I brush Katniss's hair out of her face. She sleeps peacefully on-top of me. The sun is shinning through the big windows above us. The fire is only embers. The night comes back to me. The feelings return to me. I never want to go without it. Katniss stirs and snuggles closer to my body. I move to sit up against the couch. I run my fingers through her hair.

'She's even more beautiful that the last time I saw her.' I think.

I hear her breathe heavier and then move. She wakes up and looks up at me. Without really thinking I lean down and kiss her. It feels so right. Even though we both know that this shouldn't have happen.

"Morning." I say and pull away.

"Hi.." She says quietly. "Good Morning."

I pull a blanket off the couch and cover her. She gets up and we sit on the couch. She rests her head on my shoulder.

"It was the best night ever," I say, while running my hair through her hair. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you... Promise me you'll never leave me."

She looks up and me with a smile and her beautiful grey eyes, shinning in the sunlight. "I couldn't even if I wanted to.." She says. "I love you more than anything in this world. I'd be lost without you.. I have already been." She holds my hand in hers.

I lay back and she lays with me. I just want to be here for all of eternity. I can't think of a better way to live. I've loved Katniss long before last night. But it made me realize how much I can't live without her... Like she can't without me. She sits up and rests her head on my stomach.

"We will have to leave sometime.... Let's make this day last forever." She says.

"We should. But not for a while. I still want to just.. Be here.. Like this." I say and run my hand down her bare back.

She nods and smiles, before resuming laying on my stomach. I close my eyes and take in all the feelings and sounds. My eyes open wide when I feel Katniss's lips moving up my stomach. She blushes when I catch her. I smile at her. She nuzzles her head into me and I move her up to rest on my shoulder. Both of our stomachs start to growl.

"Guess last night wasn't enough." I say.

"I guess not.." She says. She looks out the window abobehind us. "It's probably only nine. I gcan go hunt. Maybe have brunch by the lake."

"Sure." I say. "You wouldn't by chance have any baking ingredients here would you? I can make some bread while you are out hunting."

"You're in luck. I think I may have a bit." She says. "Too bad I have no cheese. Really wanting another of Peeta Mellarks's world famous Cheese Buns."

I smile. "I do make mean loves of bread too, so. Not all the way lucked out." I say.

"My father has some spare clothes I bet still. You can wear those. His room is the only one upstairs. And we do have water, so you can shower." She says.

"Okay, thank you." I say.

"Mmhmm." She says with a smile. She leans in and kisses me. "I'll be back soon."

With that, she gets up and goes to another room. I went to the room she told me to go to. I take a shower and change into fresh clothes. By the time I am done, Katniss is already gone. I start on a fresh loaf of bread. It fills the house and smells amazing. Katniss is back in record time with a bag full of things.

"That was fast,"I say.

"Everything was out and about , so it was easy and quick. Besides, I didn't want to be away from you too long either." She says and sets the bag on the island.

She pulls out two fish and starts to gut them and clean them. She washes fresh raspberries and strawberries and blackberries. She starts a fire and roasts the fish. The cabin fills with wonderful aromas. I catch sight of what she wears when she comes back to cut the fish after being cooked. She's chosen a sundress. It suits her very well, with her long dark braid failing perfectly down her back.

"You look pretty," I say when she bustles back down to the kitchen, double-checking the picnic basket for napkins and a knife to spread the apple butter.

"Oh – thanks." She touches her hair, and smiles shyly.

She wears her hunting boots with the sun dress. She goes to fix the laces. I watch her lace them up, bending to kiss the top of her head.

"Shall we go enjoy brunch?" She asks.

"Yes, please." I say. "I'm starving, and cooking has made me even more hungry."

She smiles and takes my hand. We head to the door and leave the cabin. I carried the basket and she carried her bow, slung around her back, her quiver at her waist. She sings so that I won't think too much about the long walk, just softly, still cautious about making too much noise out here in the woods. I put the picnic basket down and marveled at it, saying I can't believe I never knew it was here. And seeing it up-close is even more amazing.

"It was sort of a secret," Katniss says. "My secret, I guess. So. I wanted to show you." She smiles when I turn from the lake to look at her. She laughs when I walk over to lift her up and spin her around.

"No spinning!" she says. "No spinning, ever. Can we agree to that?"

"Oh, you're right, sorry," I say, actually blushing when I set her down. "I just – was happy."

"God, sweetheart," she says, the word just falling out of her, so easily that I find she's not even surprised. She pulls my face down to hers and gives me a loud kiss on the lips. "Don't be sorry."

We eat first. Katniss packed a blanket, and we stretched out on it when we stuffed ourselves. I licking sugar from the corners of her lips as she grins up at the sky.

"Have you digested?" she asks.

I nod.

"I think so," I said. "Why?" I touch her knee, which is usual precursor to seduction, mostly a suggestion that he wouldn't mind being seduced, that I was waiting to see what she'll do.

"'Cause we're going to swim." She sits up and pulls her dress over her head, showing him the surprise that, for we, will probably rival the lake. She's got nothing on under the dress, just her boots. She stands before I can grab her, kiss her and derail her plans, laughing as she walks backward toward the lake, unable to stop looking at me as I gape at her.

"Your turn," she says, squatting down to start unlacing her boots.

I get out of my clothes so fast that I almost trip over my pants as I kick them away. She's out of her boots now and wading to the water, keeping a straight face as I rushes into it and bursting into laughter when she sees its temperature register in my eyes.

"It's not that bad after you start swimming," she says, shivering herself but trying to put on a brave face as she sinks down until her waist is covered. She swims out a little further, holding in a shout as the chill of the water envelopes her skin.

"Shit!" I am crashing into the water beside her, flailing like someone who never really learned how to swim. "Katniss – holy – s-so cold, God." I grab hold of her, able to stand where the water would be up to her forehead, and clutches her against me, shivering. She laughs again, closing her eyes and resting her head on my shoulder. She loops her arms around my neck, her legs tight around my waist.

"If we actually swam around, we'd warm up," she says, but I just hugged her closer, my teeth chattering in her ear. "Do you still think I'm a prude?" she asks, pressing her smile to my neck, knowing the answer.

"If I say no can I get out of this water?" I ask, and she laughs.

We dry off in the sun, which is still hot enough to make the sunburn on my cheeks ache. I am trying to be a good sport, stretched out on the blanket beside her, and she covers her mouth with her hand when she sees that I've actually managed an erection.

"Well," I said when I noticed her grinning at me, looking from my lap to my face. "It's just – I'm sorry, okay, but. Look at you."

She puts on her dress and boots, packs up the basket and pats my ass as I zip my pants up over my harden. The walk back to the house seems to take much longer, both of us tired and impatient. I'm isn't alone in being affected by the sight of her naked body as it dries in the sun; I can't stop thinking of her, the way the tiny dark hairs on her stomach held droplets of water and caught the light. I want my mouth there, on her stomach and lower, wants to make her feel so warm.

We barely get through the door before we start tearing each other's clothes off; Katniss actually kicks the door shut, dropping the picnic basket on the ground and tackling me to the stairs. Her dress is hiked up, no time to pull it over her head, and I pull my shirt up so that my bare chest can touch hers, both of them scrabbling at the front of my pants as we breathe against each other's mouths.

"Hey," she says, just before I can push inside her. She holds my face, cursing herself.

"Hmm?" I'm so hard, wet at the tip, she can feel it.

"You – you're my husband, okay? That's how I think of you. My husband. Okay?"

I blink, and makes a sound in the back of my throat like a dying animal might, she looks afraid that she's said the wrong thing again. Then I surge forward, kissing her, sinking into her.

"Then – you –" I say, like I'm pronouncing words from a foreign dialect, unsure. "You're my –"

"I'm your wife," she says, whispering it in my ear. It's our secret.

I doesn't say anything, just pushes into her, and suddenly it feels good to think of it that way, feels good from her toes to her fingertips, because she trusts me to do anything, everything, and we can make any word that someone else assigned to our secret and unrepeatable vow. My mouth is on her collarbone, my tongue in the hollow of her throat, my breath on her neck.

"Katniss," I say, the name shuddering from me like it's my own secret place, freezing water and hot sunlight. She nods and clings, then falls open, letting me have everything.

We're both achy and delirious afterward, my knees propped awkwardly on two different stairs, another stair pressed against her back, just under her shoulder blades. I pick her up, leaving my pants on the stairs, and carry her to the bedroom. She's close to sleep as soon as I place her on the mattress, helping her remove her bunched-up dress and moving down to untie her boots.

"Peeta," she says, sounding almost as if she has been drugged.

"Hmm?" I said. I throw her right boot over the side of the bed and bends down to kiss her knee before starting on her left boot.

"Nothing," she says, reaching down to pull her fingers through my bangs. "You need a haircut. I love you."

I don't gape at her in disbelief, don't look wrecked, just smile as I pull her left boot off. She reaches for me, my skin warming hers as I press against her from shoulder to ankle.

"Love you, too," I said, easily, watching her eyelids droop, too heavy to keep open. "Wife, my wife. Love you so much."

Katniss

I wake up feeling fuzzy, stuck between the dreamworld and reality. I can't remember the last time I actually wanted to linger in a dream, and rubs her hand across my face, rolling onto my back to watch the dawn begin to glow from behind the closed curtains. Peeta is fast asleep and holding onto me tightly, not even snoring, his face buried against my neck. I smile up at the curtained window, running my fingers through his too-long hair.

Extracting myself from Peeta's arms without waking him takes some doing, but I have a hunter's grace, and he's still sleeping soundly as I creep out of bed. I goes to the closet, opening it with practiced stealth, and selects an elegant white blouse, a long navy skirt. She puts on fancy underwear and closes her eyes as the fine fabric slips over her skin. In lieu of a mirror, I use the window over the bathtub, seeing all of them in my reflection: my mother's cheekbones, her father's eyes, Prim's softness. I put my hand against the glass, touching all of them, not afraid to see them anymore.

Down in the kitchen, I feel none of the nervousness that I experienced yesterday when I brought Peeta to the lake. The sun continues to rise, but the morning still feels quiet, even when I leave the kitchen door open to let in the birdsong from the woods. Preparing the food is easy: a loaf of bread sliced into careful pieces, arranged on their nicest dish, an antique passed down from her father's family. Making the fire is harder, only because I haven't even touched a match since God knows when. My hand shakes, but I steal myself, shoving the past into a manageable corner as I throw the match into the kindling.

The fire grows, making my heart clench and then relax, because this is what I need. I get the bread from the kitchen and set the plate on the hearth, tending the fire, waiting to hear footsteps on the second floor. When I did, I closed my eyes and waited, squeezing my hands together in her lap. It's as if everything depends on this moment, but I'm not afraid. I know what will happen, there's no deviating variables, but it still matters so much. If anyone knows.. Our lives will never be the same. But I love him too much to not care. Too much to not do this with him.

When I heard him coming down the stairs I turned, still sitting on the hearth, beside the plate of bread. He's wearing nothing but his shorts, squinting into the dull light from the window, scratching his stomach. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a questioning look. His gaze shifts to the fire, the bread, and his eyebrows shoot up.

"Oh –" he says, grabbing both sides of the door frame. "I – oh – "

"Peeta –"

"Wait!" He holds up a hand, looking petrified, nearly hyperventilating. "Wait – I didn't – let me – hang on!"

He tears back up the stairs. I hide my laughter in my hands, my eyes watering already.

When he comes down again he's still breathless, wearing my father's finest white shirt, tucked into black pants, no belt, his shoes still untied as he works on his tie, as if he thought he had a time limit.

"Okay," he says, panting. "Oh—okay, I'm, I'm almost ready."

"Sweetheart," I said, laughing around the world, tears streaming down my face as I held my arms out to him.

It can't be too different from our other toasting ceremony: the nervous laughter, the slightly burned bread that they feed to each other, hands clasped hard, as if they're still afraid that they'll lose each other if they don't do this right. We're both crying, trying to play it down, wiping our noses on our sleeves. This is how we both wanted it to be. With one another. No one else. Not to where we are with, but to us. To each other.

"I've always loved the flavor of burned bread," I say, though it might be unfair. I don't ever want him to think that I love him because he saved me that day. I love him because he's saving me now, every day, with a kind of sustenance that I couldn't have anticipated needing when I was a starving girl in the rain. In hindsight, I felt as if I knew this would happen: Peeta opening his door, giving me everything he could spare, taking his punishment for daring to love me. So easy to believe that it was inevitable now that we've done all the work.

We stay by the lake and watch the stars that evening.

I'm so tired that I let Peeta carry me all the way up the long slope to the cabin, and I try to think of what this reminds me of: something in a dream, perhaps?

There was nothing like this in my past, no loving memory to cling to or run from. This is brand new, one of a kind. I blinked awake just long enough to smile at Peeta, my "husband", reaching up to stroke his cheek. I'm going to have to learn to know joy without trying to thread it back into sorrow. Warm in our bed, the taste of the bread from our ceremony still on my tongue, I know that Peeta will teach me. Even if we can never share something like this ever again. I will never truly be his wife, and he will never truly be my husband. But we can always be each other. This act isn't official, but it is in our hearts. We are for each other. Even if fate doesn't allow it. Even if terrible things happen because of it. I will always love Peeta Mellark. And he will always be mine. As I am to him. 

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