Peeta Mellark {does not have nightmares} (hauntedbypast) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-08-21 12:11:00 |
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Getting away had been a good idea. Time with Prim, with Johanna, time spent staring out the window of the car at new places that passed her by, time spent thinking about everything but home and the future there, was a relief. It was easier, outside the city. On the open road. Anywhere that wasn’t as crowded as New York. It made Katniss aware of how crowded her thoughts had gotten, and gave her space to sort through them. It made her miss Peeta, too. And Gale, in a different way. It made her worry that they weren’t going to be there when she got back. But when she checked in -- and she did, she couldn’t help herself -- they were both still there. And then she was home again, and it was a relief. She let Prim go to greet the cats, to put her things away, and moved into her own room -- hers and Peeta’s -- to do the same. She set her bag down on the bed, and then saw something on top of the blanket that made her stop short. The book. A blue book, entitled Mockingjay. She recognized it, of course; she’d bought it herself. It looked like her copy, but she knew she hadn’t left it here. Her fingers reached out and touched it, gingerly, as if it might be dangerous. It wasn’t, of course. But why was it here? For a strange moment, she thought Gale had come in to find it. But he wouldn’t come in here, not when Peeta was the only one here. He was interested in the books, but he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the bed she shared with Peeta. Which meant… Peeta. She’d had no idea that he’d wanted to read them. Had he read them all? Fear and dread took hold of her. He knew, now, how cold and manipulative she’d been. He probably knew more about her motives than she did herself. He had promised to love her anyway, but what if he’d changed his mind? His absence from the room did nothing but make those fears worse. She was still standing there, staring at the book, when the door opened. It startled her, and she looked up, her expression reminiscent of a prey animal caught in her sights. -- Truth be told, Peeta hadn't really meant to leave the book lying around for Katniss to find on her own. He'd meant to put it back where it belonged, prepare dinner for the three of them--five, if Johanna and Gale wanted to join them--and then get home from work before they returned. But that wasn't really what happened. He'd gotten caught up in the book, his anxiety through the roof whenever the hijacking parts came up, and forgotten the time; when he'd finally looked up at the time after closing it, he'd seen that he had five minutes to get to the bakery before he'd be late, and had rushed out the door to run down the streets to get there. Of course, he'd still been late, but not very. Unfortunately, that meant the book was forgotten on the bed. Fortunately, his shift was short, because otherwise he'd have messed things up with all the thoughts running around his head. He and Katniss had ended up together in the end. They'd had children, despite her insistence that she never would. They rebuilt 12, made a memory book in honor of her sister and his family and everyone else who had been lost in the war and to the Games. And Katniss...well, Peeta wished he'd gotten permission to read those books, because he hadn't realized just how personal they really were. He felt guilty for not asking, but he also felt like he'd needed to read them, because he finally understood her in a way he hadn't been able to before. She hadn't been capable of telling him everything, but now she didn't have to, because he knew. The end of his shift couldn't come soon enough, but he stopped at the grocery store on the way back to Potts Tower, loaded up on the ingredients he'd need for a special dinner, and headed back to their apartment, both incredibly full of new knowledge, and also unbelievably happy to be able to see Katniss again. Honestly, it was kind of sad the way he could miss her after only one night apart. He hadn't even had any nightmares (okay, maybe just one, but it hadn't even woken him up), but he'd noticed her absence far too much for his liking; he didn't know what it said about him that he'd gotten so used to going to sleep and waking up next to her that he didn't want to go back to being alone in the bed even for one night. Entering the apartment, Peeta could tell immediately that the girls had returned. Some of their things were still in the living room, causing him to smile a little, the place instantly feeling more like home now that he wasn't filling the space by himself. The bag of food went to the kitchen, but then he went to the bedroom, since he was sure that's where Katniss was. And then he froze in the doorway, smile slipping from his face, when he saw her standing there with the book in her hands. Oh. He definitely hadn't meant for her to find out like that. "I'm sorry, I should've asked," he blurted out, stepping inside and closing the door behind him; he didn't want Prim to overhear anything she didn't need to know. "I meant to put that back." Not to hide the evidence of reading it, but to be able to pick and chose the right time to reveal it. --- It took Katniss a moment to realize that it wasn’t specifically Peeta reading the books that made her feel so exposed and vulnerable. She’d been able to put it out of her mind for a long time, the fact that these books existed, the fact that they were written in her words, contained her thoughts. When Gale had asked to read them, she’d been aware of how much of her privacy he would be invading, but she’d given him permission. If Peeta had asked, she would have given him permission, too. She had no secrets from him, either. But the reminder that anyone could pick up these books, anytime they wanted, and have an open door into her head and all of her experiences -- that cut to her core. She could have hidden the books better, so that Peeta couldn’t find them. She could have told him outright not to read them, ever, if she’d wanted to keep them from him. But with the rest of the world, she didn’t have a choice. How did the movies portray her? Was it just her face on a screen, speaking in her voice? Or did they manage to spell out her innermost thoughts, too? She was used to having very little privacy -- she’d been all over the news in Panem, too -- but at least what was in her mind and heart, she’d been able to keep mostly to herself. Some could have guessed, maybe, but they wouldn’t have known for certain unless she had chosen to tell them. She put down the book, slowly. “It’s fine,” she said, retroactively granting him permission. Her voice came out quiet but even, with more certainty than she felt. “I would have said you could read it if you wanted.” She looked up at him, trying to swallow down her fears, and the horrible vulnerable feeling inside her. “Did you find what you were looking for?” She didn’t know what had driven him to read them, but she assumed he’d had a reason. She’d had a reason, to find out what had happened to him. It wouldn’t have surprised her if his reasoning had been similar. Maybe he’d wanted to know what had been happening to her while he was in the Capitol with his therapist, what he would have found when he’d eventually gotten back to Twelve. Maybe he just wanted to know if she was even still alive, after all of that. She had been told that she was, but it was hard to imagine that she was much more than a hollow shell, a shadow of herself. With the war over, Prim dead, Gale in Two, and Peeta in the Capitol struggling to get over his hijacking, it was hard to imagine how she would have been holding herself together. -- She said it was fine, but Peeta was still feeling guilty for having that kind of access to her thoughts when she hadn’t given him permission before. Though, to be fair, he’d likely have felt guilty even if she had. She’d had so little privacy since volunteering for Prim, and she was such a private person, that he imagined these books caused her a lot of anxiety. They caused him a little anxiety, and not just because he’d had to relive the hijacking while reading them. “I still should’ve asked,” he said, but let the matter go for something more important. Peeta knew both from the books and from previous conversations between them that Katniss felt like a very selfish person, that the only reason she’d saved or helped people was because she felt she couldn’t survive without them, and he read that very same concern on her face just now. She was often hard to read, but because now that he knew better, he knew she was probably feeling like he was going to judge her for what she perceived to be less than honorable motivations, and he couldn’t have her thinking that way. Stepping toward her, he took her hands, before deciding to drop them so he could put his arms around her and pull her to him. “I did,” he told her, “and what I found was you, almost exactly the way I always thought you’d be inside.” And he did believe that. Where she saw only selfishness and self-centeredness, Peeta saw a woman who gave everything she had to protect, not only her loved ones, but everyone in her district, in Panem. She hurt when Prim hurt, when Gale and Peeta himself hurt, she felt for the people of 12, even though she didn’t know all of them. She was under so much pressure from both sides of the revolution--and yes, perhaps the reason she chose which side had, to her, more to do with which of her loved ones would be hurt the worst, but he’d discovered in the second book that the reason was because she had more empathy than anyone he’d ever known. She couldn’t possibly handle the pain of others being in pain, not if they were in pain because of her. --- Katniss didn’t contradict him. Yes, he should have asked, but it wasn’t in her to hold it against him. She accepted the apology for it, understood that he felt bad about it. When it came down to it, it really didn’t matter. She was already more vulnerable with him than with anyone else, it only made sense that he should get to know what everyone else knew about her, too. Her gaze had dropped back to the book, but lifted again to meet his when he started speaking again. She stared at him as he came towards her, eyes stinging, swallowing hard in an attempt to keep her throat from closing up. There was a small furrow of disbelief on her brow, but she didn’t have any words to argue or try to defend herself. She was surprised to find that apparently they weren’t even necessary. She let him take her hands, and didn’t stop him from putting his arms around her, though she felt uncomfortable with being held at first. A moment later she felt the comfort in it, realized how afraid she’d been of how the books painted her, and how relieved she was that he had understood her after all (almost, at least). Now he understood her better, and he was still here. After a moment of standing stiffly and a little awkwardly with his arms around her, she sank into the embrace, burying her face in his shoulder, her fingers curling into his shirt. She couldn’t speak, not yet; she was concentrating too hard on not bursting into tears. -- It took so long for her to relax that Peeta almost pulled away and assumed she didn’t want to be touched this time. And when she finally did lean into him, he could tell that she was still holding herself stiffly, as though holding herself together, and tightened his arms around her. If she needed to fall apart, he would let her, and hold her until she was strong enough not to need him. He put his lips to her temple and gave her a gentle kiss. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I don’t think there’s a thing you’re capable of that could change that.” There was a lot more he wanted to tell her, much more he wanted to explain and make her understand, both about herself and the way he felt about her, but for the moment, he just really needed her to know that no matter what, he was going to love her. Even if she didn’t choose him, even if she changed her mind. Peeta was done. There was no love for him after Katniss. --- The strength of his arms held her together, and the warmth and gentleness of his affection for her slowly made her feel a little stronger. The feeling that she was going to cry disappeared, and she relaxed against him, her face still hidden in his chest. Katniss could take almost anything, she thought, and manage to live through it, so long as he was there to hold her. She finally emerged from her hiding place, the warmth and darkness of his shirt, turning her head to rest it against his shoulder, her forehead against the side of his neck. Her fingers unclenched from his shirt, and her arms encircled his waist. “I don’t like those books,” she said, starting with the easiest sentiment first. “I forgot how… exposed they make me feel.” -- Peeta could understand that. He felt exposed for her. He was glad he’d gotten the opportunity to see inside her head, to be able to understand the things about her that she had trouble explaining and communicating to him, but at the same time, he felt like they shouldn’t exist. At the very least, not for anyone in the general public to read. They all probably thought the books were just words about characters who didn’t actually exist, but in another world, Katniss and Gale and Prim and Peeta did, and those thoughts straight from Katniss’ mind were a gross violation of her privacy. It made Peeta wonder a little how the author had known them in the first place. “I know. I’m glad I understand what you couldn’t say, but I’m sorry I had to basically read your mind to get there.” He couldn’t honestly say that he wished he hadn’t read them, because he didn’t. He was glad he’d read them, hard as some of the words had been to get through. --- Katniss offered him a small smile. “I don’t mind you reading my mind,” she said, a little dryly. “It’d be easier if you could, probably. I’m not the one of us that’s good with words.” That was definitely, and had always been, Peeta. He always knew how to express himself in just the right way, to have the effect he intended. It didn’t always work on her, but she was complicated, contradictory, stubborn. And not inclined to trust expressions of emotion at face value, especially under the circumstances they’d been in. But she’d come to trust him almost implicitly, with everything. Without pulling away, she glanced over at the books again. “Do you think they’re… accurate?” -- He paused to think before he responded, looking thoughtfully at the wall over her shoulder as he considered his response. He thought the novels were accurate in the way they portrayed her, but then, she also thought they were accurate and she believed entirely different things about herself. They both saw her differently, saw different aspects of her personality, just as everyone saw themselves differently--for better or for worse--than everyone else did. And it didn’t matter so much if Peeta saw truth in them, it only mattered what Katniss saw in them and in herself. “I think,” he said slowly, “it depends on what you think is accurate. You see a lot of truth in them, and so do I, but we both have different feelings about you and your motivations deep down.” Now, Peeta didn’t know everything Katniss thought about herself and the books, but he knew enough to know that she didn’t view herself as a good person, and she didn’t particularly like herself. “What did you see when you read what you read of them?” He was more than willing to go first and tell her the type of girl he knew her to be, but it would be much easier to contradict her insecurities if he knew just what they were. -- “I didn’t read much of them,” Katniss admitted. She raised a hand and ran it over her face, embarrassed. “I found the part that I remembered last, the bombing in Thirteen… and started there. I read until I found out what had happened to you. Then I stopped, and I haven’t touched them again.” She took a deep breath. “That part of it seemed accurate enough, though.” Her sentiments about being underground. Her worries about Peeta. And of course, the way she’d reacted to his hijacking. Being attacked hadn’t been the worst of it. The loss of his high esteem of her had been so much more painful, and that had felt real to her as she’d read it; so had the shame that came along with it, that his opinion of her was so important. That hadn’t changed. But he knew that now, because he’d read it. She didn’t have to explain it. -- So she’d read the worst parts about him, then. The parts Peeta would have much preferred her not have to deal with because he wasn’t hijacked anymore. Of course she knew about it, she’d told him that when he’d arrived, but knowing facts in theory was entirely different from experiencing them via a first person account, in her own words. Every time he’d tried to kill her, every feeling she’d had--none of that was something he wanted her to have to go through, and the fact that that was the only part of any of her books she’d read made Peeta feel an unnecessary amount of shame; unnecessary because there had been no possible way he could have kept control of himself, because he’d thought he’d been able to forgive himself and put it all behind him. Apparently not. “So you read the good part then,” he replied quietly, looking away from her for a moment while he pulled himself back together. This wasn’t about him or how he felt about his own past. He cleared his throat and trudged on as though he hadn’t made a sad joke at his own expense. “When I read the books, I saw a girl with a bigger heart than she knew how to handle. I saw the most empathetic person I’ve ever had the chance to meet, here or at home. Where you see selfishness, I see someone who can’t bear to see others in pain, who literally hurts when they hurt, so she does everything she can, often without regard for herself, to keep them from hurting. When I look at you, I see the strongest person I’ll ever meet.” --- Katniss opened her mouth to explain, to tell him how much she’d needed to know what had happened to him, because her last real memory had been seeing him on screen, angry and confused. She could have explained how, when she’d found out the information was out there, once she’d realized she could find out what had happened to him, she hadn’t been able to stop herself. If not for that, she probably never would have touched the books at all. But he kept talking, and she held her tongue. What he said about her was hard to take in. A bigger heart than she knew how to handle -- well, that part was probably true. She had never known how to handle her heart at all. But where she saw that as a flaw, apparently he saw it as something else. He had read that book, which probably held all of her most private and embarrassing and horrible thoughts, and still come out of it thinking that she was strong and caring and good. It occurred to her that maybe that went both ways. He had looked very ashamed of himself a moment ago, but she would never be able to fault him for what he had done or thought while he was hijacked. And in reading about that, hadn’t she done practically the same thing he had, trying to find information about him when he wasn’t here to give consent? As different as she’d thought they were in some ways, it was strange to realize how much they paralleled each other sometimes. She found herself wondering what a book written from his perspective would be like, and knew that if such a thing existed, she would have read it already. She almost felt like laughing, which made no sense. She did smile at him, and said gently, “It’s funny. I think a lot of the same things about you.” She definitely thought he was the strongest person she’d ever met. They’d been through many of the same things, but she’d never been hijacked, and couldn’t imagine herself coming back from that. Fear had too strong a hold over her, and if they’d made her afraid of the one person that made her feel safe… well, she didn’t like to think on that. Instead, she leaned in, kissing him lightly. “Except you know your heart better than I know mine.” That was an understatement, so much of one that it did make her laugh. She knew her heart a little better now, though. She knew it belonged to him. -- It was funny, that while this whole thing was supposed to be about reassuring Katniss, showing and reminding her that she was definitely still a good person, worthy of him and kindness and forgiveness, she was still trying to reassure him and make sure he didn’t feel left out. She couldn’t take a compliment, but she had a distinct ability to turn anything good about her into something good about someone else. And it only made him love her so much more. Instead of responding to her verbally, Peeta kissed her, because he didn't know if there was anything he could say that would express his feelings better in that moment. He'd had both of his arms wrapped around her, but took one of them back to cup her cheek and slide back into the hair that he loved. Pulling back after a very long moment, he rested his forehead against hers. "Yes, but I knew yours before I read the books. I only needed those to know your mind, too." --- That was the kind of welcome home she’d been looking forward to, and Katniss was happy to be distracted by the kiss. Her hands curled into his shirt, knuckles pressing against his chest. Because she was so vulnerable, the kiss went through her like a bolt, making a pleasant shudder run through her. She would have figured out how to explain her mind to him eventually, or at least she liked to think so, but saying so aloud seemed like an argument, and that wasn’t how she meant it. She had meant it when she said it was easier this way, easier than having to explain herself in words. Eventually she would have found a way to make herself better understood, but now, maybe, she didn’t have to. It would have been nice if she could have a key to his mind like that, but he was better at expressing himself than she was, and she didn’t really wish that there were books about him, because that meant everyone else would know his mind, too. As it was, she wondered if she could claim to be the person who understood him best. Maybe she could. But the books were no longer at the forefront of her thoughts. She let herself relax into his hold completely, the way she’d wanted to do from the moment they’d started heading home. “I missed you,” she said simply, meaning it. She hadn’t been away that long, but she’d gotten so used to having his warm, steady presence around that it had still been strange to be away from him, even for a short time. -- Peeta could have filled an entire piece of paper with words describing how much he’d missed her in the 30-some hours the girls had been gone. It was honestly a little sad, and probably more than a little unhealthy, how much he’d noticed the quiet and the empty of the apartment, and how much he hadn’t liked it. Perhaps it was the Games, or the hijacking, or all of it, but once he’d gotten used to the constant presence of the dark haired girl with the braid in the dwelling and in his bed, he never wanted to go back to spending even one night alone. At no point since that first night in the cave--save the weeks that he’d spent hating and being afraid of the wrong thing--had he wanted to go to sleep in an empty bed. Sure, he’d done alright, before and after the Victory Tour, during his time learning how to take back control of his mind, but even before that fateful Reaping Day, Peeta had never slept as well as when Katniss lay sleeping beside him or in his arms. “How much did you miss me?” he asked her almost innocently, knowing there was any number of ways she could take it--and which way she probably would--but he could always hope it would lead to showing him; he’d have liked to show her how much he missed her, as well. But, knowing Katniss, even if she did pick up on the...less innocent ways to express missing him, she’d stumble over her response and it would be endearingly adorable. --- The question was almost lighthearted, but Katniss’s emotions were too much of a jumbled mess for her to summon the same levity in return. Nevertheless, she appreciated it -- and sensed some other kind of meaning in it, whether he intended it or not. Just because he knew her better now, didn’t mean she would never have to explain herself again. That was okay. There weren’t many people she’d have liked explaining herself to, but it was Peeta, so she didn’t mind. She couldn’t provide him as detailed a narrative as the books did, but she thought she could get used to expressing at least a little bit more than she usually did. She slid her hands up his chest to encircle his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. For a long moment, she buried her face in the curve of his neck, breathing him in, taking solace in the warmth and strength of his body against hers. She really had missed him, more than she’d let herself acknowledge while she’d been gone, putting off thinking about it until she’d walked back into their apartment. She’d forgotten it momentarily in the face of being surprised by the books, but that only fed into her emotions now. The fact that those books were out there, that she was so vulnerable and exposed here, only made her feel like she needed the safety and security of his arms even more. These days, she felt a lot more than just comfort when he held her; there was an inexplicable thrill along with it, too, one that made her heart skip and start to race, her breath come a little bit shorter. It was a deadly combination, one that undid her every time and always drew her back in. She’d just told herself that she would get better at giving verbal answers, but she still had trouble finding the words. Emotions were just so difficult to express; they were too strong, too complicated, for words to encompass their real meaning. “A lot,” she managed finally, with a vague sense of frustration at how inadequate the words were. She turned her head slightly and pressed a kiss against the soft shell of his ear, feeling wisps of his hair tickling her cheek. “Every second I was gone.” It might have only been two days, but each day was thousands upon thousands of seconds. When each second felt longer for the fact that his absence was always in the back of her mind, two days seemed like a much longer time away. -- After everything they'd been through, two days could feel like an eternity. Sometimes it did, even when they weren’t separated; two days until their next shared day off often seemed like an impossible length of time. In hindsight, it felt like weeks, when he remembered how still the apartment had been, and the only other living things had been the cats, but now that she was actually back and in his arms, it felt more like she’d only been gone a short time. He still really felt appreciative of her presence, though. Especially when she responded like she did. Peeta shook his head in mild amusement and hid his smile in her hair. How he could have expected her to say anything different was beyond him, but the words were still perfect because they were all Katniss. She could say all the beautiful things someone had written for her, but they would never feel the same as the simple things she expressed on her own. His arm around her tightened for a moment in a hug against his body, while his other hand rested on her waist. “Did you and Prim eat on the way back?” he asked, changing the subject. Naturally, Peeta wouldn’t have minded demonstrating missing Katniss, but he also didn’t want anyone to go hungry when he’d intended to make them dinner. --- “No,” Katniss said. A little regretfully, she added, “We probably should.” Whenever it was just the two of them alone, she felt like the rest of the world receded, sometimes even disappeared entirely. She probably would be just fine with living a life in which her days revolved entirely around him, from the moment they woke up together in the morning until they fell asleep at night. But places like that only existed for them at the cost of everything else: in the arena, and maybe at the end of the war, too. When she had lost everything else, and he had come back to Twelve to find her. She felt bad every time she realized that she was letting anything else slide, especially spending time with Prim, to be with him. But attending to everything else in her life meant that she had to leave the safe, warm circle of his arms, which was the only place she felt completely content. Although the moments that the three of them spent together in this apartment, her and Peeta and Prim, came pretty close. Like they were a strange little family. She pulled her head back to look at him, her hands resting on the back of his head, and kissed him again. Hunger was a basic survival instinct for her, she needed food to survive, and so did Prim; having a meal was a compulsion that was difficult to ignore. But there were different kinds of hunger, and she felt half-starved for affection, too. She lingered over the kiss, long enough to satisfy her for the moment (although at the same time, it made her want more, as his kisses always did), and then pulled back, smiling softly at him. “I won’t go away again for a while.” -- He was beginning to wish he’d never brought up the subject of dinner to begin with. He never pushed her, but Peeta was also not usually satisfied simply with kissing, and as she kissed him, he didn’t want her to pull away. He wanted to pull her closer. But he would still remember vividly what being hungry felt like, and he knew Katniss would be able to as well, so when she said they probably should, he accepted defeat. For now. They could pick this back up later and not have to worry about being interrupted; as it was, Prim could knock on the door at any time for almost any reason. But first, he wanted to see something. “What if next time it was just you and me?” He wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable leaving Prim, even if Gale and Johanna both stayed with her, but the idea of taking the weekend, just the two of them, to be alone and not have to work or cook or make sure Prim--whom even Peeta was swiftly coming to feel was his own little sister--was fed and safe, was very appealing to Peeta. --- Katniss considered that. Leaving Prim behind wasn’t an easy thing for her to do, but she wouldn’t be able to stick by her sister’s side every moment of every day, and she couldn’t always be dragging Prim along with her wherever she went, either -- if for no other reason than it would make Prim suspicious. All the same, if it hadn’t been for Gale’s presence next door, she probably would have said no. Johanna would protect her, she had no doubt, but only Gale would defend her as fiercely as Katniss herself would. Even more so, maybe; he had been the one to go back for Prim during the bombing in Thirteen. And he felt responsible for her future death. She considered all of that, carefully. Finally, she said, “Where would we go?” There was a small smile on her face. She was warming up to the idea. Not that it took much convincing to make time alone with Peeta sound appealing, but their lives were, as always, a little bit complicated. -- Peeta did not quite know what it was like to feel wholly responsible for the safety and livelihood of a sibling, since he’d had his parents to take care of his brothers, but he did understand why Katniss felt that way about Prim. He hadn’t even needed the books to understand that, though he did, now, know just how strong the feelings were. He knew that, even before she knew about her sister’s death (but especially after), she’d have had a tough time leaving the girl with anyone else, so he wouldn’t push if it looked like she couldn’t trust anyone to watch after her. But when she seemed to, at the very least, be open to the idea, he brightened a bit. “Does it matter?” he asked with a little shake of his head. “We can go anywhere you want.” Travel had not been a reality in Panem before the revolution, and afterward, there had only been one place Peeta had been interested in being, but now that he was thinking about it, he kind of liked the idea of being able to see a little of what was outside the city. They’d only ever traveled for terrible reasons back home, but maybe they could turn traveling in this place into something they associated with good things. Maybe travel didn’t have to be horrible anymore. It would be nice to be able to add one more thing to the short column of things that they didn’t have to associate with the Games or Snow or war. --- He was right; it didn’t matter. It really didn’t matter at all. They had been all over Panem together, and any trip they took here would be an improvement upon that, for the simple fact that they went willingly and not at the command of the Capitol. Not to mention the fact that they wouldn’t have to stand up in front of anyone and speak. They really could go anywhere they wanted. Katniss looked at him, at his handsome face, and tried to imagine where that would be. She was always inclined toward wilderness, and she had acquired a fondness for the ocean, and there was a certain amount of appeal in finding some isolated spot out in nature where it was just the two of them. On the other hand, they’d already done a lot of that, hiding out in caves, sleeping in the forest, when they were in the arena. Maybe somewhere else would be better. But it should be somewhere… pretty, she thought. With a nice sunset. Peeta would like a place like that. “No,” she agreed, brushing her thumb along his jawline. “It doesn’t matter. But,” she added as an afterthought, “If it’s somewhere far away, I’m not driving.” -- Considering all the things that had happened to them, Peeta was surprisingly alright with the woods. They weren’t his favorite place, and they certainly didn’t feel like home the way they did for Katniss, but at least he knew now how to survive in them. If she said she wanted to find an isolated spot in the middle of a forest to camp out in, he’d go along with it. The part he really cared about was spending time with her. Though, if he had to be totally honest, it would probably be nice to actually be able to go out and be alone together without having to hunt their own food or worry about being killed (that was Peeta’s favorite part about being in this world--no one was trying to kill them). He grinned at her response. He didn’t know how to drive and that was perfectly fine with him for the most part, so not driving to their destination was not a hardship in his eyes; he was so used to walking everywhere that he just had trouble feeling comfortable in a car. “We’ll find something else,” he reassured her, leaving a peck on her lips. “I’m sure they have trains or something similar here.” Having not left the city since his arrival, he didn’t really know how the people in this world traveled to other places, other than by using something called the Subway (which, from the very brief conversation he’d overheard in the bakery, sounded vaguely terrifying and very inconvenient), but when they decided where they wanted to go, they could look into how to get there. “So. Dinner? I stopped by the store on my way home so I could make you and Prim something. And Johanna and Gale too, if they wanted.” --- “They do,” Katniss assured him. She had spent time familiarizing herself with the city’s public transportation systems, at least enough to get out of the city. It was more than just learning the maps. It was growing accustomed to the way the trains moved, the way people shoved and cursed, the way the operators mumbled. It was a little bit of a miracle that she’d successfully made it to the woods on her first try, without getting too lost, although it had still taken her pretty much the entire day. She’d ended up having to make a shelter and build a fire in the dark. But she’d done better with it each time after that. If they were going even farther outside the city, or even in a different direction, they would need to go outside the realm of her current knowledge, but she had faith that between the two of them, they could figure it out. For the moment, the only thing she wanted was to sit around a table with the strange little family they’d formed here, and then end the night in bed with him. It warmed her heart to know that he’d planned to welcome them home with food, and she didn’t have the words to express why, but she smiled at him, framing his face in her hands and kissing him one last time. “I love you,” she murmured softly, against his lips. Then she pulled away enough to take his hand, leading him towards the door. “Let’s make dinner.” |