Hunger Games Make a Wish

_**A/N-**So I don't think it's possible to put into words how much work Street and her husband put into the inaugural inception of S2SL. She took a spark of an idea and grew it into a wonderful first collection that generated nearly $5000 for Hope for Caroline. It took hours of soliciting, getting a website hosted/ready, answering emails, confirming donations, and ensuring the authors posted their stories on time._

_This was originally going to be one of my submissions for S2SL, but Street's reaction when I told her the idea made me rethink it. And I decided to hold it and write it later to post it as a thank you to her for all her tireless efforts. _

_So thank you, Street. I know that Caroline's parents appreciate all that you and Mr. S did to further their cause and research for DIPG. I am so very proud of you, and honored to have been a part of this. ILY._

_Thanks to iLoVeRynMar for reading and coaching me, and to Pookieh for catching my errors because I've been in a shit state of mind. Love you both ladies. Many thanks to Ro for the banner. _

_THG belongs to Suzanne Collins; the title has no bearing on the charity; the charity in the story is fictional, and the title is merely a play on words._

_Enjoy. ~Court_

* * *

_**~July 12th, Panem (Philadelphia), Pennsylvania~**_

* * *

"What's your favorite Katniss Everdeen song, Peeta?"

"Huh…what?"

He turns and looks down at Rue's beaming face. She gives him an impatient prompt with her wide, brown eyes, and he stops walking to get his bearings.

"Oh, um, I guess I like some of her early stuff a lot. That "Catching Fire" one always kind of gets to me."

"You know she wrote that song about the boy she had a crush on in middle school?"

He chuckles. "I did not know that, no."

Rue grins and chatters on, like the miniature walking encyclopedia she is when it comes to Katniss Everdeen. Peeta does his best to listen and be polite, but with the arena spread out before him, he's a little overwhelmed by where he's supposed to go next, and he technically has a job to be focusing on. He's been to plenty of concerts before, but always as a paid ticket holder. This behind the scenes, all-access stuff is new territory for him.

"I think we're supposed to forgo the main gates and go around to where the tour buses are parked," he calls over his shoulder. Rue's parents nod, and the joy on their faces as they watch their daughter skipping along elicits a smile from Peeta too. He knows they haven't had many days like this recently.

He glances up at the flawless canvas of blue above them, thankful that the week's earlier forecast for severe thunderstorms had changed in the last few days. The sweltering summer heat is still oppressive, and though the sun will have gone down by the time Katniss Everdeen takes the stage later that evening, it will do little to alleviate the humidity permeating the air.

The parking lots are largely empty at this hour, as the gates don't open until six, but the large lot across from the stadium is already filled with raucous guys tailgating. They're hardly typical Katniss Everdeen fans, but Peeta knows from his friends' comments that most teenage boys and college-aged men will gladly sit through her concert just to ogle her for a couple of hours.

Not that he can blame any of them. Peeta's had a thing for Katniss Everdeen far longer than anyone else in America even knew her name. He got to hear her sing years ago, and her voice imprinted on him since way before its ubiquitous presence on what seems like every station on terrestrial or satellite radio. He can close his eyes and picture his old classmate as she used to be: a pigtailed girl with molten mercury eyes and spindly arms and legs— girl who has blossomed into a beautiful woman who still stars in his dreams nearly every night.

The last time he actually saw Katniss Everdeen—and was in the same room as her—they were thirteen. It was eighth grade graduation, and he remembers every detail of that evening as if it were yesterday. He knows exactly what she was wearing to the dinner dance that followed the tediously boring ceremony. Her deep green sundress was far less glitzy than what most of the other girls had worn, and instead of putting her hair up like so many of them, it had been the first time Peeta recalled seeing Katniss's long, dark tresses tumbling free. There was such a simple beauty to her, and to him she had been luminous. He regrets nothing more in his life up to this point than chickening out asking her to dance that night.

Because when he arrived at Panem High School for ninth grade that next September, he had learned that Katniss Everdeen was gone. The rumor was she and her mother and sister had packed up and moved to Nashville so that Katniss could pursue a singing career. A few of the nastier girls had laughed and scoffed that Katniss was delusional if she thought she could make it there.

Peeta has to smile wryly at the large, vacant stadium with its nearly 50,000 seats waiting to be filled. How wrong those bitchy girls were.

Rue continues to talk animatedly, blabbering on about Katniss's disdain for cats, and Peeta wonders if there's anything that the young girl doesn't know about her favorite singer.

Actually, he knows one thing she can't possibly know.

He grins slyly as they approach the west gate of the stadium. "Hey, Rue, did you know I went to school with Katniss Everdeen?"

She stops, and her mouth drops open, blinking and gaping like a goldfish gasping for air. "What?" she screeches. "Why didn't you tell me that when you first met me?"

He laughs and reaches for the young girl's hand, squeezing it affectionately. "Cause this experience is about you, Miss Rue—not me. And besides, there were about four hundred other kids that went to school with her too. I'm not special. But I thought you'd get a kick out of hearing that."

"Well, I think you're pretty special, Peeta," she grins, gazing up at him from under a fringe of dark eyelashes. He grins back and gives her hand another tug.

Rue has definitely burrowed her way into his heart. Peeta has been volunteering his time as an intern with Dreams Come True since last October. As a pre-med student, he's been leaning towards going into pediatric cardiology or oncology, and his adviser recommended he get involved with the charity that grants wishes to children suffering from cancer, congenital ailments, and serious illnesses.

Some of the kids he has escorted on previous outings have been terminal cases—which is why he suspects Dr. Heavensbee suggested the job in the first place, to toughen Peeta up.

Fortunately, Rue is one of the other cases—the ones that have cautiously optimistic prognoses. She suffers from a congenital heart defect that has led to numerous surgeries in her twelve years, and she's due for another in six weeks. Her 'Dream Come True' was to see Katniss Everdeen, her favorite pop-country singer, in concert. The organization took it one step further and arranged for Rue to spend the afternoon with Katniss, getting to be part of the star's pre-show routines before enjoying the concert from the front row.

Peeta's eyes land on a massive, sleek, unmarked Windstream trailer and a second even larger trailer with Katniss's name emblazoned under the bank of windows. He motions for Rue to look where he's pointing, and an excited squeal pierces the air.

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, that's her tour bus!" Rue cries. "I bet it's so awesome inside. She sleeps in there sometimes, you know. And I bet she's written a ton of her songs in there too when she's on the road. Wouldn't you love to see it? I wonder if she'll let me see it? Do you think she'll let me see it, Peeta?"

"Easy, honey." Rue's mother places a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Don't get yourself too excited."

As they approach the security officers guarding the private parking lot, Peeta slips the lanyard over his neck and hands the larger of the two men his badge.

"Afternoon," the gruff man barks, scrutinizing Peeta's badge. "You got additional ID on you, sir?"

"Oh, right." He pulls his billfold from his front pocket and passes his license to the guy.

"You're with Dreams Come True, yeah?" the stockier of the two officers asks, scrolling the screen of an iPad.

"Yeah, I'm Peeta Mellark. This is the lady of the hour, Rue L'Oiseaux, and her parents are behind us."

Rue smiles politely, and the guards give her warm smiles. They confer quietly, and then both nod, and one hands Peeta back his license and his credentials badge. Their expressions become even softer, and the tall one leans down to speak to Rue in a saccharine tone that sounds completely foreign coming from such a beefy man.

"You're in for quite the treat, little miss. Katniss is just about the nicest gal you'll ever get to spend an evening with. Right that way. She's expecting you." He winks at her as the other guard rattles off some instructions to Peeta. He points to an access door that leads into the stadium and waves them through.

The maze of corridors is a little claustrophobic, the silver-painted cinder blocks seeming to go on forever until the last one opens into an expansive space. People mill about, some wearing headsets, and two men are arranging a massive spread of food on a table centered on the back wall. To the right of the table, a closed door bears a large sign with Katniss's name on it.

He feels completely immature for the little stutter of his heartbeat as he processes the fact Katniss Everdeen is behind that door. It's like he's a teenager all over again.

"Welcome, welcome!" a chipper voice rings out, and Peeta turns to see a petite woman with piles of blonde curls and a mask of elaborate makeup approaching them. "You must be Rue! Aren't you just darling?" She plasters a smile on her magenta lips and thrusts a manicured hand at Peeta. "Effie Trinket. I'm Ms. Everdeen's publicist."

Peeta politely introduces himself, but Effie only gives him a curt bob of her head before she starts fawning all over Rue, barking out orders to a man and a woman who loiter nearby. The woman—Peeta quickly figures out she's a reporter for E! News—begins questioning Rue and her parents, and the man with her produces a large camera from his bag, clicking away as the interview commences.

He hangs back, glancing around the space, and as a craft services worker rushes by with a huge, flat cardboard box full of tinfoil wrapped sandwiches, the aroma of roasted meat and peppers and onions wafts past. His stomach grumbles loudly, and his mouth waters at the thought of Philly cheesesteaks. He should have eaten more for lunch—he's starving.

But then the door to Katniss's dressing room opens, and a surly looking older man steps out. "I'm looking for—" he glances down to a scrap of paper in his hand, squinting his steely eyes, "—Peeta Mellark?"

Peeta clears his throat and approaches the door. "That's me, sir."

The stony grey eyes look him up and down, lingering on the press credentials pass suspended from his neck. "Katniss is ready for the girl now." He opens the door wider and makes an exaggerated gesture with his hand.

Peeta glances over to Rue, who is still talking with the reporter and the cameraman, while Katniss's publicist chats animatedly on her cell phone, punctuating her conversation with shrill, lilting bursts of laughter.

"Effie!" the gruff man barks. "Put an end to that interview now!"

With a huff, Effie ends her call and narrows her eyes at the man. "Patience, Haymitch."

"The girl's here to meet Katniss, not to be exploited. You know Sweetheart hates it when you send this stuff out to _People _and TMZ and the fucking Huffington Post. That ain't why she does this."

"Alright, Haymitch," the woman says, clearly exasperated. "Cressida!" She makes a motion across her throat, and the reporter and cameraman retreat as Rue bounds over to Peeta.

"You ready to meet your idol?" He tugs on a strand of her hair, and she grins broadly.

"Yes! Ohmygosh, yes! But I'm nervous. Why am I nervous, Peeta?"

The man Effie called Haymitch—who by now, Peeta has deduced, must be Katniss's manager or bodyguard or something else quite personal, since he referred to her as 'sweetheart'—extends his arm again. Rue's demeanor instantly alters. She creeps forward cautiously, shy eyes periodically darting back to Peeta and her parents. Peeta gives her a gentle nod of his head, and Rue's mother clasps her daughter's hand as they walk into the spacious dressing room.

It's equally embarrassing and comforting to know that after more than eight years, Katniss Everdeen can command his attention like a moth to a flame. He takes a deep but what he hopes is discreet breath as he studies the beautiful woman standing in the center of the room.

His only occasion to see Katniss in recent years has been on television performing at awards show and in the pages of tabloids and magazines. In those instances, she's always polished and made up and dressed in stunning gowns or fashionable outfits, especially since she is the muse for the in-demand up-and-coming designer, Cinna.

So other than the occasional paparazzi shot, he can't recall seeing Katniss as she is now—her flawless olive skin scrubbed clean, her famous long dark waves pulled back into the braid she used to wear in middle school, her toned body clad in a Philadelphia Eagles t-shirt that has slipped down off one shoulder and a pair of grey leggings. If one didn't know she was a worldwide phenomenon, she could pass for any other college-aged girl, or possibly even be mistaken for a teenager.

"You must be my guest of honor. Hi, I'm Katniss." She smiles and leans down to wrap Rue in a warm hug. As she releases the girl, Katniss raises her eyes and for a brief moment, she stares at him. He thinks he sees recognition in the smoky gray irises, but then she looks away, placing her arm around Rue's shoulders as she introduces herself to Rue's parents.

"I can't believe I'm really here!" Rue whispers, gazing up at Katniss.

"Well, I'm really glad that you're here," Katniss grins back. "And I hope you're ready to have some fun with me."

Rue grins and nods enthusiastically, and Peeta hangs back, content to watch the girl bask in the moment.

But she turns and waves, beckoning him. "Peeta! Come meet Katniss!"

As he strides forward, his heart thumping more with each step, Katniss looks directly at him again, and her lips curve into a smile.

"Peeta Mellark," she murmurs and thrusts her hand out. He grips it gently, feeling stupid for hoping that she'd just engulf him in a hug like Rue got. Her palm is soft and warm against his, and she squeezes it a second time before releasing it.

"Hi, Katniss," he replies.

Standing this close to her, he gets a better look at those mercury orbs, which seem wider and clearer without all the sparkly eye shadow and liner and mascara. Her irises are flecked with gold.

"It was quite a surprise to read your name on the rider," she says. "It's good to see you again."

But before he can reply, she turns her attention back to Rue, rattling off the agenda for their visit. She asks Rue if she'd like to get her hair and her makeup done when it comes time for Katniss's stylists to do their magic.

It's unfair to be disappointed, because this is Rue's day, as he told her earlier. It's just that with Katniss right in front of him, it reminds him how much he regrets not doing more to get to know her when they were teenagers—and how much he'd kill to spend more than a couple minutes in her presence now.

Not that Katniss would give him the time of day. He's seen the gossip magazines; he knows that Katniss Everdeen never lacks for male companionship. Most recently they've linked her to her opening act, though Peeta thinks the redheaded singer-songwriter would be an odd match for her. And in his opinion, all the photos he's seen suggest little more than a friendship between Katniss and Darius O'Shea.

"You need a few things from us, dontcha, boy?"

Peeta tears his eyes away from Katniss and his daydreaming, and looks to Haymitch.

"Uh, yeah, there are some things I need to document for the foundation. They like to post little blurbs about the dreams that have been fulfilled on their website, and…"

Haymitch holds a hand up. "We know. Sweetheart's done this before. Let's go deal with Effie."

He doesn't see Katniss and Rue again for a while. Katniss whisks the girl away to her wardrobe, and Peeta is stuck hanging with some of Katniss's handlers, including an abrasive woman with short, spiky cropped hair named Johanna who maintains Katniss's fan webpage. She's at least entertaining while she and Peeta settle what content will go on which page, all with Effie's indiscriminate clucks of approval or rejection.

About an hour later Rue bursts back into the room, grinning ear to ear, now clad in a black concert tee that is more like a dress on her tiny frame. She bounces over to her mother, gesturing wildly about the costumes Katniss is going to wear. Peeta can see the girl's face shimmers with makeup, and rhinestones adorn her hair.

"And she changes nine times, Mom. Nine!"

Katniss steps through the door, and she too has begun her transformation. Her long dark hair has been straightened a glossy curtain of black, and she wears a silky kimono-style hunter green robe. Peeta swallows reflexively; though the rational part of his mind knows she's wearing something underneath it, his subconscious conjures up images of her untying the knot and easing it off her shoulders, baring her perfect naked body to him.

The twitch of his groin warns him to stop actively fantasizing about Katniss Everdeen before it's painfully apparent that he's been doing so.

A short series of raps on the door precludes it opening, and a stout man enters, bearing a large tray. Katniss thanks him as he sets it down on one of the tables.

"I heard you like sushi," Katniss winks at Rue. "So enjoy."

Then she approaches him. "You're welcome to it too, and if you want, the craft services table outside is fair game as well."

"Thank you," he says, resisting the urge to let his eyes drift down to venture a peek at where her robe is cinched closed.

Once he's filled a plate with a cheesesteak, and some shrimp, and several California rolls, he watches Katniss with Rue. They're perched on the edge of one of the plush leather couches, Katniss scrolling through an iPhone to show Rue photos. He allows himself to ogle her toned legs—crossed and angled to her left due to the short robe, but it's a beautiful sight.

"Peeta! Come here!" Rue calls. "Sit with us."

He's about to protest and remind her that this isn't about him, when Katniss glances up and purses her lips at him thoughtfully.

"Come on, Peeta. I don't bite," she offers, patting the vacant spot beside her on the couch.

His pulse hiccoughs as he walks towards them. He sinks to the couch next to Katniss and as he does, he inhales something woodsy and clean for a brief second before the cloying aroma of hairspray dominates his nostrils.

"You're not going to eat?" he asks, feeling a bit guilty for the mound of food on the plate he's balanced on his knee.

She laughs. "I never eat before a show. Too nervous. I usually wait and indulge after."

"Katniss, Peeta told me you went to school together," Rue pipes up, her doe eyes darting between the two of them.

"Yes, we did," Katniss replies. "Panem Middle School. Not my best days," she adds. When Rue asks her why, she falls quiet for a couple of seconds.

"Girls weren't so nice to me," she answers simply. "I didn't have many friends. Boys didn't like me. I just didn't fit in so well."

"That's why you wrote "Sticks and Stones"?" Rue asks.

"Pretty_ and_ smart." Katniss grins and taps Rue's nose affectionately.

"Now Peeta on the other hand," Katniss continues, "he was Mr. Popularity. Everyone liked him. He was always surrounded by friends, and I think every girl in the school had a thing for him."

Heat climbs his neck and creeps across his cheeks. "Katniss, that's not true."

Her silver eyes sparkle. "Oh, it was so true. In fact—"

"Sweetheart, sound check's done," Haymitch interrupts. "Octavia is ready for you in wardrobe."

She thanks Haymitch and rises to her feet, handing her phone off to one of her assistants, and she reaches for Rue's hand again.

"Things are about to get very chaotic. You ready?" She locks eyes with Peeta and gives him a little smile. "You will be staying, won't you?"

Peeta's escort responsibilities are virtually nonexistent once the concert actually begins. Rue has all the proper authorizations, her own backstage pass hanging from her slender neck, and Haymitch has put a member of Katniss's entourage in charge of accompanying Rue and her parents to their places in the front row. His supervisor at Dreams Come True had informed Peeta that he didn't have to stay for the show if it wasn't his thing.

Not that Peeta was going to pass up the chance to watch Katniss in her element. And now with what sounds like hopeful invitation in her voice, he has even more reason to stick around.

"Ah, yeah, I'd love to," he replies.

Katniss aims an easy smile at him. "Great. Well, enjoy the show."

* * *

When it's time for the concert to begin, one of Katniss's security guards ushers them to their places in the front row. He hands Rue a pair of earplugs that he says Katniss insists that Rue wear at such close proximity to the elaborate sound systems. He offers pairs to Rue's parents and Peeta, too, and then he replaces his own earpiece and assumes his position, back to the stage.

The first opening act is okay, and Darius does a decent job, though Peeta's not really a fan of his music. Rue fidgets and hops through the thirty-minute changeover as they get Katniss's first set prepared. Then the arena lights finally dim again, and Peeta wishes he had put in the earplugs as protection from the deafening screams and piercing shrieks punctuating the stagnant night air. Sharp hisses precede pinwheels of color bursting over their heads, and then the massive video screen projects an image of a single match. Synthetic flames lick along the front of the stage, spreading outward, until it appears the entire set is on fire.

Then a chariot emerges through the wall of red and orange, and Peeta has to squint to see that the coal-black horse pulling the carriage is a live animal. Katniss stands at the reigns, her hair whipping out behind her. The horse whinnies and comes to a stop at the center of the stage, and four shirtless, muscled men flank the chariot. Two of them grip Katniss's upper arms and lift her from the vehicle, spinning her around before setting her down to more thunderous applause and shouts.

Peeta is powerless to fight the pulse of his cock at the sight of her in a skintight, red leather, corseted bodysuit and black, thigh-high, stiletto-heeled boots. She stomps her foot once, a demure grin on her beautiful face, and she throws her arms out to the side as her guitarist and bassist hit the opening chords of "Catching Fire."

He feels an insistent push at his waist, and he glances down to see Rue beaming at him. He leans down to hear her over the roar.

"Peeta! She's starting with your favorite song!"

He carefully ruffles her hair and nods, though he knows it's a coincidence. Katniss's set list is the same at every show on her tour, with the complicated sets and costume changes.

It's hard to believe the woman strutting around on the stage with such confidence, such presence, is the same shy, reserved girl that he went to school with. Katniss is electric, and he can't suppress the grin on his face watching her move and listening to that enchanting voice.

When she finishes the opening number, she pauses and saunters down the catwalk that extends out from the stage, bisecting the audience into two halves. Fans scream her name, homemade signs are thrust into the air, and glow-in-the-dark wands and necklaces lash through the dusky sky.

"Well isn't this cozy? Fifty-thousand of my closest friends here to welcome me home!" Katniss purrs, and more raucous cries and shrieks erupt. "Thank you so much for coming out here to see me tonight! What do you say you let me entertain you for a few hours?"

Peeta decides that other than the leather bodysuit (the vivid memory of which is going right into his spank bank), his favorite costume change is the pale orange sundress she wears when she takes a seat on a makeshift pier that rises up out of the stage. Another coincidence, but orange has always been his favorite color, so he humors himself with the notion that she chose the dress with a purpose in mind.

He watches her strumming her guitar, her bare feet swinging, her ponytail swishing as she sings. In this moment, she looks so much like the girl he used to stare at across the cafeteria. He thinks about what she said to Rue earlier, about how every girl in middle school wanted him.

Did Katniss put herself in that same category? It doesn't seem possible. He can't recall her ever looking at him. If anything, he thought she actively avoided his stare, and they never exchanged a single word in all their years of school together. The closest he came to communicating with her was sending her an anonymous candy-gram on Valentine's Day in seventh grade.

The show ends just before eleven in another dazzling display of fireworks after two encores. Katniss thanks her band, introducing each of them to the audience, and then she professes her love to the crowd before she sashays around to all points of the stage to greet and slap hands with the fans clamoring for her attention.

She stops right in front of Rue, and she motions to the guard closest to them. He grabs Rue around the waist and lifts her over his head onto the stage. Katniss clasps Rue's hand tightly and waves to the crowd one last time before the neon lights fade and arena lights flicker on.

Another security guard approaches them, speaking with the first, and they both look at Peeta.

"Mr. and Mrs. L'Oiseaux? If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your daughter. She's backstage with Ms. Everdeen," the second one says.

"Rue is going to want to say goodbye to Mr. Mellark," her mother says.

The first guard nods. "That's fine. Ms. Everdeen has asked to see Mr. Mellark anyway. Sir, if you'd follow us as well."

Peeta swallows, and his stomach dips a little. She wants to see him?

They wind through a series of corridors, much narrower than the ones that led them in from the parking lot earlier in the day, and definitely much louder. It seems much of Katniss's band and entourage are already celebrating, though when they reach her dressing room, he doesn't see a drop of alcohol anywhere.

What he does see is Rue seated beside Katniss again, intently staring down at a sparkly purple guitar, her fingers plucking the strings. Katniss is murmuring instructions to the girl. Her skin glistens with sweat, and her chest heaves rapidly. She must be exhausted.

"Mom! Dad! Look what Katniss gave me!" Rue cries, brandishing the guitar as she leaps from the couch. "Peeta, look! My own guitar! Signed and everything!"

"That's awesome, Rue."

"One day I expect to have some stiff competition on the iTunes charts," Katniss says as she stands and joins them. Peeta can see more perspiration stippling her skin, and he valiantly avoids watching one errand bead that rolls past the hollow of the throat, bound for the valley between her breasts. She still wears her final costume, a tight, low-cut scoop neck black leotard and the tiniest pair of red shorts Peeta has ever seen, which leave little to the imagination by the way of highlighting her incredible legs and her perfect ass.

"We can't thank you enough, Ms. Everdeen," Rue's father says as he takes the guitar from his daughter's hands, and Peeta can see tears shimmering in both Rue's parents' eyes.

"It was my pleasure," Katniss replies, placing a hand on Rue's shoulder to turn the girl around to face her. "I hope you had a great time."

"I will never, ever forget this!" Rue enthuses. "Thank you so much, Katniss!"

Rue turns to Peeta and gazes at him, and he kneels down so the girl can give him a fierce hug. "Thank you so much for making my dream come true, Peeta," she whispers.

"No, Rue, thank you for letting me be part of your day. I hope you'll keep in touch with me."

He turns to say his own thanks to Katniss once he's said farewell to Rue's parents again, and he realizes that the room has quickly emptied—not even Haymitch or Effie are lurking around.

"Did you enjoy the concert?" Katniss asks softly, keeping her eyes fixed on him as she hops up onto a swiveling stool to undo the strappy gladiator sandals on her feet.

"It was incredible," he replies honestly, though he feels a little foolish for not coming up with a better adjective for the spectacle he just witnessed. "You put on an amazing show, Katniss."

She tosses one sandal to the floor and probes her fingers over the arch of her bare foot. He knows her feet have to be aching, crying out for relief after the abuse they've taken all evening long, and he wishes it wouldn't be completely inappropriate for him to offer to massage them for her.

"I'm glad you liked it," she says, unhooking her other sandal, which quickly joins the first on the ground. She grabs a pair of flip flops from the dressing table behind her and slides them on, then gives him a shy smile and walks back to where he stands. "Tell me, Peeta, are you in a hurry to get home tonight?"

Dear god, why does his mind go to the dirtiest possible scenario from her question?

"I know it's late," she continues, her index finger twirling a lock of hair around and around. He shakes his head.

"No, it's not that late," he replies hastily. "I mean, I'd probably just go to bed when I get home. I might need my iPod and ear buds, cause my roommate usually has his girlfriend stay over on Saturday nights and—"

"Then would you want to keep me company while I go grab something to eat? There's a little pub about ten blocks from here that I can't resist when I'm home."

"Ah, yeah, absolutely. I'd love to keep you company."

Fuck, was that too fast? The words come out in a gush, and he hopes it doesn't sound desperate.

Katniss doesn't seem to notice. Those quicksilver eyes gleam and she smiles, releasing the lock of hair from around her finger.

"Great. It'll just take me about ten minutes to clean up, and then I'll have my driver take us."

She disappears through a door in the back of the room, and Peeta collapses on the couch, lowering his face to his knees as he tries to keep it together. Holy shit. Katniss Everdeen wants his company. Is this really happening? Is he really going to be spending time one-on-one, alone, with Katniss Everdeen?

He can hear the noise coming from the rooms on either side of Katniss's, and he presumes that her band members and her myriad of handlers and assistants are imbibing and celebrating her successful show, but he does find it odd that no one, not even Haymitch or Effie, has come back to check on Katniss.

Or maybe this is her thing after a show—to be left alone. Katniss always did seem to like her solitude. But then why would she want him for company?

Without realizing he's been doing it, he's clambered to his feet and is pacing about the space, his heart knocking erratically against his ribs. He feels like a fucking twelve-year-old again.

"You're gonna wear out the carpet if you keep walking back and forth like that."

He startles and turns around to face Katniss, who's now leaning against a panel near the back of the room. Her hair appears damp and is wound into a knot at the nape of her neck, and she wears a simple orange tank top and a pair of worn jeans that fit her like a second skin. Her face is once again scrubbed clean of makeup, though her cheeks have a dewy sheen to them, and her lips are glossy—and look so enticing. She's effortlessly beautiful.

"That was fast," he muses.

"Yes, well, I try not to keep my guests waiting." She gives him a playful smile and grabs her phone from the dressing table, and then she grabs a small wristlet from the top drawer, looping it over her right thumb. "You ready?"

"You don't need to tell anyone where you're—we're—going?"

She gives him another smile. "Haymitch knows where I'm going. Everyone else is doing their own thing. We don't have to head to Pittsburgh til tomorrow morning.

"Would you have any objections to a little night stroll? I kind of feel like walking."

He gapes at her. "You want to walk? After you ran around on stage for nearly three hours, dancing and changing outfits and—"

"I miss this city, Peeta. If my feet hurt a little it's a small price to pay. It's only ten blocks."

He stares at her, but far be it from him to deny this girl anything.

"Lead the way," he says.

* * *

The pub is crowded and noisy, but the outdoor patio is open, and when the hostess recognizes Katniss, they're quickly shown to the last table once she properly fan-girls over Katniss.

"You don't want anything?" Katniss asks dubiously, arching an eyebrow at him once she's ordered a bacon cheeseburger with French fries and a Diet Coke. "Get a beer. This place has like 25 IPAs and microbrews on draft. Please, Peeta, get something."

He gives her a pointed smile, but acquiesces and asks the waiter to bring him whatever on draft would be closest to a Sam Summer.

"You don't drink?" he asks when the waiter returns with her soda and a frosted pint of a pale amber ale.

Katniss shrugs. "No, I do. I just try to watch what I drink when I'm around fans." She gestures subtly to a family of four dining nearby, their two teenagers giggling and whispering and pointing at Katniss.

He furrows his brows at the family. It's quarter to twelve. Kids shouldn't even be up this late, though he figures there's a decent chance they were at Katniss's show earlier. He's about to open his mouth and point out to Katniss that she's 21 and should be able to enjoy a beer or glass of wine when the girls both scramble out of their chairs, the legs scraping noisily against the cobblestone patio, and they excitedly approach Katniss.

"Will you sign our shirts?" they sing out at the same time then giggle more. One thrusts a Sharpie marker at Katniss, and sure enough, they're both wearing Katniss Everdeen concert shirts.

Peeta takes a sip from his beer and watches Katniss politely autograph the backs of both girls' shirts, and she poses for several pictures that their mother snaps with an iPhone, and finally Peeta hears one of them murmur a 'thank you' when they scurry back to their table.

"So how did you get affiliated with Dreams Come True?" Katniss asks, and he's about to reply when he sees two guys step out of the pub, scanning the patio, and the taller one smacks the other.

"Holy shit it is her!" Peeta hears him crow, and they jostle each other on their way down the patio towards where he and Katniss are seated.

"Can we get a picture with you?" the stockier of the two says. "Please?"

Again, Katniss obliges, and the tall guy shoves an iPhone at Peeta.

"You mind, man?"

A little taken aback by their brazenness, Peeta manages to take three shots with both men's phones before they blatantly gawk at Katniss and tell her how hot she is. She gives them a measured smile and slides back into her seat when the waiter approaches with her food. She orders Peeta another beer in spite of his protests and gives him a sweet smile that silences him instantly.

"So now you can tell me about Dreams Come True," she prompts, popping a French fry into her mouth.

"There's not that much to tell," he replies, but he explains to her about his major and his interest in pediatrics, and he can see she's definitely impressed or in awe or maybe both.

"A doctor, huh? I can't say I'm surprised." She laughs softly. "Everyone knew Peeta Mellark was destined for big things."

He licks the foam from his lips and sets down his full beer. "Whoa. Doctor, international superstar." He holds his hands out, miming a scale, and lifts the right one up much higher than the left. "I think you're the biggest thing to come out of Panem, Pennsylvania since…well …probably ever."

"I make people happy, I guess," she says, dragging a French fry through a mound of ketchup. "But you'll be making a real difference in people's lives."

"Katniss, you've got to be kidding me! Do you not know the effect that you have on people? Did you see Rue's face today? That girl will forever have the memory of spending a day with her favorite singer, and it's all because of you. I've escorted plenty of kids on Dreams Come True outings, and some of the celebrities are all smiles and hugs when the cameras are on and the public is watching, but you can tell it's a chore for them.

"But you…there wasn't a time where I watched you interacting with Rue that wasn't genuine. You really wanted her to have the time of her life, and in spite of all the preparations that you go through for your show you made it happen. That's unbelievable."

Katniss sets down her burger and wipes her mouth, and as she starts to answer, but a commotion on the sidewalk draws her attention and she pivots in her seat. A cluster of guys and girls has poured out of the bar across the street, and they're craning their necks and looking in Katniss's direction.

Peeta sees her face fall, and she takes a hasty sip of her soda and signals the waiter.

"We'll take the check, thanks." The waiter nods and she smiles at him.

"Oh my god, you're Katniss Everdeen!" one of the girls squeals, leaning over the little iron railing that encloses the patio. "Marvel wasn't fucking with us. That Instagram picture was legit! Can we get a picture too?"

Katniss meets Peeta's eyes briefly, and then she pastes a wide smile on her face. "Sure," she agrees, pushing back her chair, and Peeta is once again relegated to playing amateur photographer with a litany of smartphones. A few of them thrust random things at Katniss to autograph—a bar receipt, the back of a checkbook, one guy's arm. He watches in disbelief, as the rest of her meal gets cold while she dutifully caters to the fans.

They finally retreat up the sidewalk, onto the next bar, hooting and shoving each other, and Katniss gives him a tired smile when she sits down.

"Don't you ever get tired of it?" he asks quietly while she chews the last bites of her likely cold burger.

"It comes with the territory," she says once she's swallowed. "I've learned to turn it on for the cameras and play nice with the fans. It keeps everyone happy. The media looks for any reason to knock you down, so…" She glances up and thanks the waiter when he hands her the bill. "It's why I don't usually go out without one of my bodyguards."

"Why didn't you bring someone along tonight?"

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Maybe I wanted to be alone with you."

_Fuck. _It's impossible to miss the suggestive inflection in her voice.

She yanks her hand back when he reaches across the table and attempts to grab the check from her. "This is my treat," she insists.

"Katniss…"

"Peeta…" she whines back playfully. "Don't argue with me. I'll win. And if you piss me off, I'll just write a song about you." She shoots him a triumphant smirk when the waiter returns and she hands him a black American Express card. Then her expression becomes more serious, and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry we didn't really have a chance to talk as much as I would have liked, what with all the interruptions. I should have known better." She sighs. "I feel like there's so much more catching up we could have done."

She signs the bill with a flourish, and then pulls a hundred-dollar bill from her wristlet. As she hands over the slip and the tip to the waiter, he gushes his thanks and Katniss asks him if he has his cell phone on him. He flushes and fumbles in his pocket, and she wraps one arm around the guy and holds the other out in front of them, snapping a picture before handing him back the phone. Peeta just shakes his head at her altruism as he follows her out onto the sidewalk and they begin the trek back towards the stadium.

It's nearly midnight, but the streets are bustling with activity, and Katniss keeps a quick pace, probably to avoid further recognition. He has the overwhelming urge to take her hand in his and knit their fingers together, but he suspects she wouldn't allow it.

And then she asks him about his family, and they pass the rest of walk back with him filling her in about his brothers and his nephews, and he even manages to get her to talk a little about her sister.

Soon the stadium looms in front of them again, and Katniss slows her gait, suddenly dragging her feet as she starts towards the general parking.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks, finally satisfying his compulsion to touch her when he gently clasps her wrist to stop her movement.

"I'm walking you to your car," she replies.

"No. Are you crazy? I'm not letting you walk alone all the way to the rear of the stadium where your bus is parked."

She stares at him, her eyes glinting in the harsh glare from the parking lots' floodlights. "I can text one of my security people to come and meet me—provided none of them have been drinking. Those golf carts and booze don't mix."

"I'm walking you back. Don't argue with me. I can't write a song about you, but I can wield a pretty effective pout."

She holds her hands up in surrender, laughing, but when she lowers them, she lets her fingers graze his elbow, and then they skim along his arm and she laces them through his.

"Is this okay?" she whispers, several wisps of dark hair whipping across her face as a breeze blows past.

Words have always come so easily to him. But in this instance he can only nod and venture occasional glances down at their linked hands as they make their way to her tour bus. Her tiny hand clasped in his feels so impossibly good, so natural, that he knows he won't be the first to let go.

When they reach the bus, she turns to face him, but makes no effort to release his hand. But the confident, poised Katniss has vanished, and the girl who stands before him biting her lip and looking down at their feet just inches apart causes his stomach to flip expectantly.

"Did you…would you like to come inside with me?"

_Fuck yes. _

But there's no way he heard her right. Katniss Everdeen did not ask him to come inside her tour bus with her.

She gazes at him expectantly. "It's just…I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye to you yet."

"Sure," he replies, hoping to sound casual, though he really wants to say 'abso-fucking-lutely' and pin her body to the side of the trailer to find out if her lips are as soft as they look.

She exhales, appearing relieved that he's accepted, and that knowledge has his stomach twisting into a knot again.

He's disappointed when she drops his hand in order to mount the steps to the bus, and he watches her press her thumb to a little panel below the windowpane. The door releases with a 'click.'

"Very high-tech," he jokes, as she pushes the door open and beckons him to follow her inside.

He glances around, taking in the surroundings. It's spacious, as far as buses go, and its opulence makes his apartment look meager in comparison. There are lights everywhere—lining the wide windows, running along the ceiling—casting the interior of the bus in a hazy glow. A row of plush couches run the length of one side of the bus, and a flat-screen television is suspended from the ceiling opposite them.

Katniss walks into a little alcove with a stout, stainless-steel refrigerator and a sink.

"Welcome to my home-away-from-home," she says. "Did you want something to drink? Another beer?"

"Oh, yeah, sure."

She pulls two Sam Summers out of the fridge and opens them, handing one to him.

"Cheers." She clinks her bottle against his before taking a sip from hers. She motions for him to follow her to the couches, and she settles in the center of them, kicking off her flip-flops and tucking her legs underneath her.

He sits down next to her, careful to put a cushion-length between them, and she gives him a smile that's tired, but no less beautiful because of it.

She pulls out her phone and uses her beer bottle to motion to a small, grey speaker on the ledge behind him. "Can you flick that on? Just press the button all the way on the left." Within a couple of seconds, there's a little chirp, and Katniss hits the 'shuffle' on her phone. A Lumineers song filters from the speaker, and she sips her beer again before setting it on the ledge. She pulls the pins out of her bun, and her hair tumbles down in kinky waves, which she combs out with her fingers.

"So, what do you say we play a little game?" she asks. "Keep catching up with each other, getting to know each other better."

"A game?" he repeats.

"A game." She leans forward a little and quirks her lips at him. "Before tonight, you'd actually listened to my music. Real or not real?"

He stares at her, her mouth set in a coy curve, and she laughs. "It's okay, Peeta. I'm not going to be insulted if—"

"Real. I mean, yes, I have. I like your music, Katniss. You have a beautiful voice."

She blushes and starts to protest his compliment, but he silences her with a wag of his finger.

"If this is a game, isn't it my turn?"

She nestles back against the cushions, the beer bottle raised to her lips. "I guess those would be the rules, yes."

He tries to think what he wants to know about Katniss Everdeen that he could use this game to ferret out of her. Given the impure thoughts racing through his head and the little bolts of electricity threatening to stir his dick into motion as he steals a glimpse at her breasts, so perky and inviting with the tight ribbed material of her tank top stretched across them, one question pops to mind. He had seen the magazine cover at CVS just a few days ago—a photo of Katniss with another singer, emblazoned with the headline: _Making More Than Music Together?_

"You're still seeing Gale Hawthorne. Real or not real, Katniss?"

She looks so adorable when she wrinkles her nose, and his heart lifts hopefully because the expression on her face is such an emphatic 'no' before she even opens her mouth to answer.

"Not real." She sighs. "God the tabloids really like to throw that one out there all the time, don't they? We had like maybe three dates and I went to one awards show with him. And while he was nice and all, he was totally just using me to get Madge Undersee back."

"Now there's someone whose music I can't stand," Peeta confesses, draining the last of his beer. Madge Undersee's cloying pop songs all sound the same, and he actually finds her voice grating, like a fork scraping against a dinner plate the wrong way. She doesn't sing—she shrieks. He'll never understand her rapid rise to popularity.

"The gossip magazines sure have a field day with my love life," she says wryly, playing with the label on her beer. She takes the last pull from her beer and sighs. "Every time I turn around, they've got me linked to someone new. But I guess it gives me good material for my songs, huh?"

She takes his empty bottle from him, and his skin tingles in the wake of her fingers brushing against his palm. She pads back to the alcove and drops the bottles into a bin beneath the little sink.

"Do you want another?" she calls.

He does, but he knows he doesn't need another. It's not a long drive back to his apartment, but he shouldn't take any chances this late at night.

"I'm good," he replies.

"I can make some tea or something."

"It's fine, Katniss. Come play the game. It's your turn."

She saunters back to him, and he's acutely aware of the fact she takes a seat much closer to him than they were moments ago.

"You've had a song written about you. Real or not real?"

Something about the way she locks eyes with him as she says it sends a tremor of anticipation curling through his veins. She licks her lips slowly, and the air between them crackles with electricity.

"Not real?"

"That doesn't sound like a confident answer," she teases.

"Well it's an honest answer," he drawls back, his pulse starting to race as she inches closer to him on the couch.

"You know when Rue and I were getting our makeup done before the show, we had a nice little chat." Her index finger just barely touches the edge of his cargo shorts as she speaks. "She told me you said your favorite song of mine was "Catching Fire.""

He shifts and scoots further forward on the cushion, facing her fully, and he sees her chest inflate with the sharp breath she takes. "If you knew I had a favorite Katniss Everdeen song, why did you ask me if I listened to your music?"

She purses her lips at him. "It seemed a safe place to start. Rue also said she told you I wrote that song about a boy I had a crush on when I was younger."

A strange sensation slithers down his spine, and he looks into those wide pools of silver that bore into him so intently. In spite of the music piping through the room, he can't hear anything but the blood thrumming in his ears.

"It was the first song I ever wrote you know. The words came so easily when I thought about that boy. But I don't think he knew I was alive. He had so many girls admiring him and slipping him notes and asking him out."

He swallows to work up some saliva to ease his bone-dry throat. She can't be hinting at what he thinks she's hinting at, can she? It's not possible that Katniss Everdeen noticed him as much as he noticed her back then.

But now, with her right here in front of him, he's not going to make the same mistake he made as a pre-teen. The signals she is sending him are far too strong to ignore them.

He leans forward and takes a silky strand of her hair between his fingers, watching her pupils dilate as her lips twitch. "You wrote that song about me. Real or not real, Katniss?"

"Real," she whispers. Her breath skates across his cheek as she angles her head toward him. Her eyes flutter closed just as her mouth claims his, and her hair slips from his fingers when he slides his palm around to cup the back of her neck and coax her lips to meet his with more pressure. She keeps one hand on his knee and the other cradles his jaw, as she deepens the kiss and practically clambers into his lap.

He groans when he feels her tongue trace the outline of his lips before urging him to part his mouth. She licks at his tongue gently, twining hers around it to suck it into her mouth. His groin floods with heat, and the sensual strokes of her tongue tease him to arousal.

She leans her forehead against his and opens her eyes when she draws back, panting heavily. All that's visible of her irises is a thin band of grey, and her pink lips are pillowy from their kisses.

"This is happening. Real or not real?" she murmurs. He nudges her head back to expose her neck to him. He parts his lips and trails open-mouthed kisses down to the hollow of her throat.

"Real." He nuzzles his way up to her earlobe. "You weren't the only one with a crush you know," he says, speaking directly into her ear. He feels her tremble, and he uses his tongue to trace the innermost shell of her ear. She lets out a tiny whimper and her fingers dig into his shoulders harder. "I liked you so much, Katniss, but I was just too cowardly to do anything about it."

"You can do something about that now. Because you're here, and I'm here, and…" She throws one leg over his waist, and his hands grasp her hips to tug her flush against him. "…And I might still have a crush on you, Peeta Mellark."

She slants her mouth over his again, their lips colliding roughly. He plunges his tongue past her teeth, running it along the roof of her mouth, while he brings one hand up to splay across her lower back. Her pelvis rocks against him lightly, as if she's trying to hold back and not make the gyrations of her hips too obvious.

But each tiny thrust causes her to make the most delicious little sounds. _He's_ the one causing her to make those sounds. _He's_ making out with Katniss Everdeen. Fuck, this is like his own personal Dreams Come True wish fulfillment.

"Peeta," she gasps, grabbing his other hand from her hip, snaking it up between their torsos to plant it over her breast.

He stills, his teeth tugging gently on her bottom lip as he breaks the kiss to gape at her. His head feels fuzzy and his limbs are heavy and his cock strains so insistently against the fly of his shorts that he's a little paranoid that he's not going to be able to control himself. And now having Katniss's breast in his palm only makes his dick harder.

"Can we go into my room?" she whispers.

"Your room?" he asks dumbly.

She nods and twists in his lap, gesturing towards a door at the far end of the bus. "I have a bed in there and everything…" She seals her mouth to his, rocking her hips over his erection more blatantly, and he closes his eyes, pleasure spiking low in his groin again. "It will be more comfortable," she mumbles against his lips. Her nails rake along his neck, scraping his scalp, sending a frisson skittering down his back.

He must hesitate for too long, because she's suddenly squirming out of his grasp, her face flushed. She stumbles to her feet and adjusts her tank top from where it's ridden up, exposing her flat stomach. Fuck, even her bellybutton turns him on.

"I'm sorry..." She drops her face into her hands and begins to pace. "Oh god, I'm sorry."

He leaps up and spins her around, catching her hand. He traps it against his chest, holding it so there's no way that she can't feel the mad staccato of his heartbeat. "Why are you sorry?"

She looks up him, her expression pained, her eyes wide with panic. "For inviting you into my bedroom, expecting…oh, god, what was I expecting…?"

"Katniss, it's okay," he whispers, bringing her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles one by one. "I want to. Fuck do I want to…but…"

"But," she prompts, chewing on her bottom lip, anxiety still etched on her features.

"But it's just…don't you want to move a little slower? I don't want to force you to do anything you'll regret later because we get a little caught up in the moment."

"Peeta, I leave for Pittsburgh in the morning, and this tour continues for the next three months. I'm only halfway done with it. We only have tonight."

He frames her cheeks with his hands, rubbing his thumbs along her jaw. "Who said we only have tonight?"

She continues to worry her lip, shrugging her shoulders.

"If I am more than willing to wait a couple of months to see where this could lead, you would be too. Real or not real?"

Her teeth release her lip and her tongue laves the spot before he lowers his mouth to hers and lets his tongue do the soothing. She moans softly and clutches at him, moving her lips against his feverishly.

"We can still go to your bedroom," he rasps out in between kisses. "I'm not going anywhere until you ask me to leave."

"I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay with me."

"If that's what you want," he whispers, walking her down the narrow corridor towards the door she indicated moments ago. She allows him to guide her, his body pressed against hers, urging her backwards, until they stagger across the threshold and Katniss whirls around, giving him a firm shove that sends him sprawling onto a king-sized bed that takes up most of the room.

His heart hammers against his ribs anew when Katniss tosses her hair and gives him a seductive smile. She saunters towards him and he scrambles further up the bed. With another wicked smile, she climbs onto the bed and crawls to where he lies, framing one knee on either side of his waist. Her palms slide up his belly to his chest and then back down, as if she's testing the feel of him, mapping new territory.

"Can I take this off?" she says thickly. He nods and raises his upper body off the bed, watching her intently as she eases his shirt up and over his head. She lobs it over her shoulder and splays her hands over his bare chest again, her fingers probing the plane of his pecs and the dips of his abdominal muscles. One thumb circles his navel, and she lowers her mouth to plant a kiss directly over it. Her lips blaze a trail up to his breastbone, and she pauses to let her tongue flick out and briefly tease one of his nipples before she latches onto his mouth.

Kissing Katniss is like nothing he could have ever properly imagined. He could lie here making out with her all night and not even give a fuck how much his balls would ache and how badly he'd need a release. Her mouth fits perfectly against his, and she's driving him insane by using her tongue and teeth in tandem on his lips, nibbling and sucking while her hands knead his shoulders.

Then she sits up, rising onto her knees, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his hands finding purchase on hips, urging her back towards him.

She shakes her head and her fingers skim down the sides of her breasts, landing just above his on her hips, where she crosses her arms and pulls her tank top over her head in one fluid motion. She arches her back, and he lunges up, attaching his lips to her neck, suckling greedily while he struggles to nobly keep his hands on her waist.

Her pulse jumps rapidly where his tongue laves at her throat, and it vibrates when she whispers, "Touch me, Peeta. Go ahead."

He draws back and stares at her. Slowly, he lowers his eyes to her breasts. Good fucking lord. The black lace bra she wears barely covers her breasts, and he can see her hard nipples straining against the sheer fabric. Her tits look like they'd fit in his palms perfectly. She nods and pushes him back down to the bed, fully settling over his erection, rolling her hips.

"Touch me," she pleads again, and his cock throbs insistently.

Katniss lets out a breathy sigh when he reaches up and kneads the soft mounds gently at first. She bucks her hips and arcs into his touch, and he squeezes them a little harder. Emboldened by the cry of his name that falls from her parted lips, he fondles them, plucking at the taut buds through the lace. She cries out again and her arms automatically circle behind her back, releasing the clasp of her bra with one deft motion. With the tension gone, she shimmies her shoulders slightly, and he drags the straps down, flinging the thing aside.

Her flesh is so warm when he takes her breasts in his hands again. His thumbs circle her nipples, and Katniss screws her eyes shut, biting her lip and grinding down on him when he pinches the stiff peaks, testing her reaction.

"Oh, fuck, Peeta…you…_ahhh_!"

The rest of her thought is lost with the first brush of his tongue over one nipple. He rolls it around, watching the goose bumps appear on her skin from the contrast of his warm mouth and the chilled air. His hand continues to tease her other breast, reveling in the noises he's eliciting from her.

He seizes her by the waist and flips her onto her back, more to break the dangerous contact of their pelvises and keep his raging hard-on in check for a while longer. He doesn't intend to allow this to escalate to the point of having sex, as much as he's dreamed about making love to Katniss Everdeen. Not tonight—not if he wants to prove he's in this for more than a fuck.

"Peeta," she whimpers, writhing beneath him. The raw plea in her voice spurs him back to her breast. He sucks and laps at the other nipple eagerly, relishing the feel of it peaking under his tongue's ministrations. He can hear her shallow breathing and sense her pelvis undulating, clearly seeking relief.

"Katniss," he murmurs, and she barely lifts her eyelids to gaze at him. He has to smile at the blush on her cheeks. "Can I take these off?" He lets his hand hover over the button of her jeans, and the nod she gives him in response is frantic. She tilts her hips to accommodate his efforts to peel the denim down her legs, and he closes his eyes briefly, overwhelmed by the vision of her nearly naked before him. When he opens his eyes again, he lets his finger trace the edging of the tiny thong, silently requesting permission to go past the elastic. Her throat bobs and she exhales.

He descends on her mouth, stifling a groan from the sensation of her bare breasts flattening against his chest, but when his fingers slip inside her panties he audibly growls his approval.

"God you're so wet. You feel amazing," he mumbles, probing the slick heat. She keens softly and kisses him with more urgency.

"Peeta!" she cries when his finger finds her clit and he draws slow circles over the swollen nub. He raises himself up on one elbow so he can selfishly watch her face contort in ecstasy as he brings her closer to the edge. His cock is so hard, begging to be freed from his shorts, and when Katniss's hands grope for her breasts, it throbs even more impatiently at the sight of her touching herself.

"Oh…god…Peeta!" Her lips part, and her back bows off the bed, as he feels more warmth flood his fingers, and her clit pulses. Her body wracks with tiny spasms, and she clenches her thighs shut, trapping his hand between her legs. "Oh…holy…shit…" she whimpers, collapsing onto the bed. He promptly covers her trembling body with his and feathers kisses along her jaw and up to her mouth while she recovers from her orgasm.

Her grey eyes are glassy when they struggle to focus on him, and she gives him a weak, sated smile. "You…wow…oh, that was incredible." She reaches up and cups his jaw, her thumb grazing his chin.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he whispers, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

"I think it's your turn now," she says, her other hand wedging between them to squeeze him through his shorts. Instinctively, his eyes close from the jolt of bliss to his groin.

"Katniss, no, it's okay. I'm fine. You don't need…"

"I know I don't need to," she says, "but I want to, Peeta. I want to watch you the way you just watched me."

"And you know how hot that is? That you want to do that for me? I'm flattered, Katniss, but…"

"So let me do it," she purrs, her fingers lighting over the belt of his shorts. "Please, Peeta. Stop looking at me like I'm that pure little girl the media makes me out to be. You've made me feel sexier in the last hour than I've ever felt. I like it."

He frowns slightly. He wasn't aware he had been looking at her any differently.

She runs her tongue over her lips and smiles triumphantly when she gets his belt undone. It gives her enough slack to slip her hand inside his shorts and boxer briefs, and his balls tighten when her hand wraps around his cock.

"Katniss," he hisses. She leans up and kisses him, her nipples grazing his chest, and he presses her back down to the bed with his weight. Her hand works him rhythmically, but it's definitely a little awkward with him still clothed.

She seems to comprehend it too, as she stops pumping.

"Peeta…I want…can I use my mouth? Please? I want you in my mouth."

The determined gleam in her grey eyes leaves him powerless, and he nods numbly, inching backwards so she can rise up on her knees, and together they ease his shorts and underwear off. Katniss sucks in a breath as her eyes flit down to his dick, and she straddles his knees once he's readjusted his position on the bed, flat on his back.

She grips him again, tracing the head of his cock with one finger, collecting some of the pre-cum that's beaded on the tip before she flashes him a coy smile and dips her head to lick up the length of the shaft. Her palm grips the base as she licks him once more, her eyes fixed on him when she takes him into her mouth.

His eyes roll back and his stomach tenses. Her mouth gliding up and down his cock feels so fucking good that he knows he can't possibly last long. Her hair spills forward and tickles his upper thighs as she sucks earnestly, and he can hear her tiny mewls punctuating his own grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, Katniss…" he threads his hands through her hair, encouraging her to keep sucking him at the steady pace she's set. She hums against his skin, and the tension in his groin builds rapidly. Before he can fight it any more, he feels the tightening in his sac and the heat spreading, and he barely has the presence of mind amidst the bliss rocketing through him to push her mouth back. He cups the head of his shaft just as the first spurts of semen jet across his stomach, and Katniss watches, eyes wide, breasts jostling lightly from her ragged breathing. She leans down cautiously, avoiding the mess pooling on his belly and kisses him fiercely.

"We should clean up," he murmurs, nudging her gently from where she's buried her head in the crook of his neck, her warm breath fanning across his skin.

"Will you stay with me?" she asks, raising her head to gaze down at him.

"For the rest of the night?"

She nods. "Til morning. We're scheduled to leave just before six. I mean, I understand if you want to go now, but…"

"I'll stay," he promises, because the thought of falling asleep with the girl of his dreams naked in his arms is too tempting to pass up.

Katniss's lips curve into the most serene smile he can remember ever seeing aimed at him. "This is far more than a crush. Real or not real?"

But before he can open his mouth to reply, she answers her own question and whispers the single word in his ear.

* * *

_**October 28**__**th**__**, Los Angeles, CA**_

* * *

_**[Peeta 2:54 p.m.]-**__you all ready for tonight? One more show. _

_**[Katniss 2:54 p.m.]-**__yes I am so ready for some R&amp;R. cant believe the tour is finally ending_

_**[Katniss 2:55 p.m.]-**__and I am so ready to spend some time with you, even if we will only have a few days for your fall break_

_**[Peeta 2:55 p.m.]-**__I'm all yours. _

_**[Katniss 2:56 p.m.]**__-good because I have all sorts of ideas as to what I'm going to do to you once I see you_

_Fuck. _Just the hint of having Katniss in the flesh again is enough to get his dick twitching. It's been too long.

He lifts his head and rolls his eyes impatiently at the rows of passengers ahead of him, filing out of the plane at an agonizingly slow pace. Turning his attention back to his phone, he bites back a smile at the next message he taps out.

_**[Peeta 2:57 p.m.]-**__You in the middle of your usual pre-show rituals yet?_

_**[Katniss 2:57 p.m.]-**__ No. Im having coffee on Sunset with Darius and there are no fewer than five paparazzi watching us. _

Grinning fully, he makes a mental note to thank Darius later. He doesn't even need a distraction now to ensure Katniss is nowhere near the Staples Center in the next thirty minutes.

It's been interesting enough starting a relationship long-distance without all the added challenges that come with dating Katniss Everdeen. He knew within an hour of slipping out of her tour bus that July morning and sneaking back into his apartment that this would not be a typical courtship. His phone had buzzed with a text message from his brother, Rye, who had bluntly asked him when he had 'started banging Katniss Everdeen.' Apparently someone had snapped pictures of him and Katniss on the patio at the pub the night before, and TMZ had them online by morning. At first, Peeta had only been identified as 'an attractive blond mystery man' (Rye gave him plenty of shit over that), but by mid-morning the post had been updated with his name and some vague details, 'childhood friend' and 'pre-med student' among them. He still wonders which one of his friends or acquaintances volunteered that information.

He was just as hastily dismissed as anyone of significance—out of sight, out of mind, perhaps, because within days, the gossip blogs were tying Katniss to some brooding actor from a tween television series. Katniss had laughed over that one when she told Peeta about it: the guy had cornered her at an after-party for a special she and some other country singers had filmed to air at Christmas. She said it was the first and only time she had spoken to Cato Spierren.

Even with her insanely busy schedule of touring and random television appearances— morning shows and talk shows and concert specials—he and Katniss spoke every day. Much of the time they had to rely on text messages. Those started out innocently enough. As they talked more and grew closer, Katniss became a little bolder and the suggestive messages started popping up on his phone at all hours. The first time she sent him a nude photo of herself, he nearly dropped his damn phone in the toilet. Then he unashamedly jerked off to it later that night.

But there were a good amount of phone calls late at night, when he knew she was alone on her bus or in a hotel room somewhere. Soon they started relying on Skype sessions, which quickly turned to heated phone sex sessions, and Peeta learned that watching Katniss fuck herself with her fingers and bring herself to climax with his name on her lips could get him off in no time.

The rest of summer seemed to drag by—a paradox that only affirmed to him how deeply he was already falling for Katniss, since usually he dreaded the start of classes. For once he was relieved to go back to school, because at least his course load for senior year has so far kept him busy enough not to miss Katniss as much.

He no longer has the time to work with Dreams Come True either, though he keeps in touch with several of the kids he escorted, including Rue. He can't wait until Katniss gets the green light to go public with their romance and he can tell the little girl she was the catalyst for it all. (Effie thought it was best that Katniss wait to gush about her new love when she starts promotional appearances for her next album. Katniss reluctantly agreed.)

Finally, the row directly in front of his empties. He grabs his duffel bag from the overheard compartment, offers his assistance to the older woman who had been seated next to him in retrieving her mammoth carry-on, and makes his way up the aisle.

As he stalks through the terminal, scanning signs for the exit where he can grab a taxi (he had forgotten about the whole 'must be 25 to rent a car' thing up until the snippy woman with Enterprise snidely reminded him of it), a giddy feeling swarms his stomach. In just a short time, he'll have Katniss back in his arms.

He squints into the bright California sunshine and gapes at the line of cabs idling along the curb. A driver loitering near the second one in the queue signals him, and Peeta gratefully climbs in and asks to be taken to the Staples Center. He fastens his seat belt and sends another text to Katniss.

_**[Peeta 3:04 p.m.]-**__you still plying yourself with caffeine? _

_**[Katniss 3:04 p.m.]-**__on my second iced caramel macchiato. _

_**[Peeta 3:04 p.m.]-**__do me a favor—once you are back at the arena, stop by your bus. There might be a little surprise in there for you._

_**[Katniss 3:05 p.m.]-**__Peeta! What did you do this time? _

He smiles, knowing she's likely imagining a scene like the one that greeted her that night in August one month from the date they got together at her show in Philadelphia. He had had dozens of roses delivered to her hotel room in Atlanta. The Skype sex had been phenomenal that evening.

_**[Peeta 3:05 p.m.]-**__You'll see. Enjoy your coffee and have a great show. Ill be thinking about you._

The taxi veers into the Staples Center, and Peeta orders the cabbie to drive around to wherever the buses park. The guy gives him a dubious look in the rearview mirror, but he complies. Peeta pays the fare and hops out. He scrutinizes the area and locates Katniss's bus. He hauls his bag over his shoulder and strides towards it.

It takes a few minutes for Katniss's bodyguard, Thresh, to put two and two together. He knows from their conversations that Katniss confides a lot in the burly, quiet man, and sure enough, Thresh discreetly lets Peeta into the bus, pulling the door shut behind him with a conspiratorial wink.

Once he lets a couple of seconds pass, he shrugs off his flannel shirt and tugs the white t-shirt over his head, then sheds his jeans once he's removed his Vans and his socks.

He paces around in just his boxer briefs until he hears the 'click', and he holds his breath while he waits for the door to swing open.

And then she's there, her hair in a messy braid that hangs over her left shoulder, wearing a pale pink sundress and a cropped denim jacket. She looks so fucking sexy that his cock twitches to life, and the underwear does little to disguise his hard-on. Her eyes sweep over him, and she stands frozen in place.

"You're here. You're really here. Real or not real?" she whispers, awed.

"Real," he replies.

She gasps and rushes into his arms, the sheer force of her tiny body colliding with him sending them both stumbling backwards. He steadies her with one hand on the small of her back while the other cradles her jaw and guides her lips to his. The kiss is frantic and rough, and when she steps back several moments later, her grey eyes glitter, still wide with disbelief.

"I can't believe you here." She licks her lips and her gaze drops down between them. "God, I've missed you."

"I've missed you," he replies, easing her jacket off her shoulders and moving her braid off her neck to suckle on the sensitive skin. She smells like vanilla and orchids and the exotic combination is intoxicating. He skates his mouth up over her jaw and claims her lips again, while his fingers hook into the thin straps of her sundress. He peels it down her torso, groaning when her breasts bounce free. The fact that she's not wearing a bra causes his cock to jump again and heat to kindle in his veins.

She steps out of the dress when it pools around her ankles and she kicks it aside. "I only have a little bit before I have to get in for hair and makeup," she murmurs, reaching down to squeeze him through his boxers.

"Then we'd better make good use of our time." He arches a brow at her and kneels before her, ghosting his lips over the sheer lace of her thong. He yanks it down, baring her to him completely. He inhales deeply, memorizing the heady scent of her arousal, and she whimpers as his breath fans over her upper thighs when he exhales. "Mmm. So nice and ready for me. C'mere."

He grips her hips and urges her over to the couch, where he stretches out on his back, bending his knees slightly. He tugs her down onto him, and she squeals a little when he positions her along his torso, facing him, her head resting on his knees. Taking one of her legs and draping it over the back of the couch, she braces the other against the armrest and lets out a shuddering breath when he has her pussy inches from his mouth.

"I've been waiting three fucking months to do this," he whispers, dragging his tongue up the length of her folds, and she cries out, arching her back off his chest.

"Oh…oh fuck, Peeta," she gasps when he laps at her again and one of his hands comes up to palm her breast. He grins against her, swirling his tongue around to gather her arousal.

"I love the way you taste. So delicious," he mumbles before plunging his tongue deeper. When he finds her clit, swollen and ready for him, he flicks his tongue back and forth several times then sucks it into his mouth.

She keens and begins undulating her hips against his face, gripping the side of the couch with one hand. The other slithers down her belly to rub her clit while he resumes thrusting his tongue in and out of her. Her head falls back and her eyes screw shut. But he keeps his eyes open, alternating watching the tiny twitches of her lips, the tension in her taut stomach muscles, and her hand working herself over.

The gyrations of her pelvis falter and become more erratic as her mewls escalate, and when he pinches her nipple and nudges her hand aside to suckle her clit again, she lets out a strangled moan and he has to slide his arm across her abdomen to hold her down on him while her body shudders and her clit throbs under his tongue. He continues to lick and suck until she screams loudly and she shatters a second time.

"Peeta…oh my god…I can't…" She exhales slowly. "You…are…unreal."

"There is no better sight then watching you come," he whispers, helping her lower her leg and shift her position on his belly so he can draw her down for a long kiss. She continues to slant her mouth over his, but she reaches behind her and grips his cock over the thin cotton-spandex of his underwear.

"Sit up," she commands, sliding off his lap to kneel on the floor, her eyes still drugged with lust. He does as she asks, and she nods to his boxer briefs. "Off. Now."

He lifts his ass up and she eases the underwear down, careful not to catch it on his hard-on, and it slaps back against his stomach. She runs her palms up and down his thighs, pursing her lips at him teasingly before her hand circles the base of his cock. She angles it towards her mouth, licking the tip, and his hips buck impatiently. He's strung so tight, his balls aching for release, that he knows it won't take much for her to get him off.

"Katniss…fuck…" He steadies his feet on the floor and rests his head on the back of the couch as she fondles his balls and her mouth engulfs him completely. She only gags a little as she begins to bob up and down, taking him deeper. He wrenches his hand under her and kneads one breast while her mouth continues creating an exquisite suction on his cock.

"You can move, Peeta," she whispers. "Use your hips, fuck my mouth if you want."

Shit. He opens his eyes to narrow slits to watch her sucking him eagerly, and he thrusts up, the sensation building, as she brings him dangerously close to the edge. He tweaks her nipple, and she moans against his shaft. When she swirls her tongue over the tip, a guttural moan rips from his throat.

"I'm coming, Katniss," he warns, but she stubbornly remains in place, hollowing her cheeks and suckling his pulsing cock as he releases in her mouth. She coughs a little but keeps sucking and licking until she's taken all of him, finally unsealing her lips from his dick, a self-satisfied smirk on her puffy pink lips.

"Holy fuck, that was incredible. _You're _incredible." He leans forward and draws her to him, slipping his tongue inside her mouth for a quick, heated kiss.

"I still can't believe you're here," she murmurs, the fingernail on her index finger lightly raking over his jaw. "I'm…it's just the best surprise, Peeta." She kisses him again, and he pulls her into his lap. "Please tell me you'll stay for my show and then come to the wrap party with me? Let me show the world you're mine."

He tugs gently on her now mostly unraveled braid. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

* * *

Seeing Katniss's show for a second time allows him to see all the little things that he wasn't paying attention to the last time he saw it, and with infinitely more pride this go-round too. Yeah, he has the same dirty thoughts about the leather corset and the thigh-high boots, but this time, he can only think about getting her to wear that particular costume in private for him.

The crowd goes insane when she parades out a few special guests to help her close out her tour, and Peeta doesn't even feel a pang of jealousy when one of them is Gale Hawthorne. He definitely leers at Katniss while they sing, but she keeps her distance as they harmonize on a mash-up of one of her songs with one of his. Then Darius joins her to sing the duet they recorded for his debut album.

Finally, Katniss quiets the arena as much as it's possible to do so. She saunters down the catwalk that juts out from the front of the stage. "I'm sure you all know this is the last show of this tour, and I'll be going back in the studio to begin work on my next album, but I'm gonna let you in on a little secret." She pauses and gives the assembled crowd a coy smile, leaning towards them. "Can you all keep a secret?"

The deafening roar and shrieks seem to affirm they can. Peeta grins to himself and shakes his head at the way Katniss can transform herself when she's on stage. She certainly does know how to turn it on for the audience.

"I've already written a couple of songs for the new album. You could say I've been…inspired by some things that have happened to me this summer." She stops and gives her bassist a playful smile. "How many guys do you think are panicking right now?" He grins and shakes his head.

"Truth is, Los Angeles, there's a very special man in my life right now. And he's here tonight. He surprised me, so it's my turn to surprise him. What do you say I play this brand new song for him, and for you?"

From his place in front of the stage, he meets Katniss's eyes, and she beams at him.

"This isn't the first song I've written about him. But it is the next chapter in what I hope is a very long love story, and you could say it's a sequel of sorts to "Catching Fire." This is called "Real." I hope you like it."

Listening to Katniss sing about him to twenty-thousand people is surreal, and yet somehow he still feels like it's just the two of them in the arena. His heart floods with joy at the sincerity of her words, and when the song ends to wild applause, she only takes a moment to make eye contact with him one more time. Then he hears the chords of what he knows to be the finale of the show, and he waits patiently for her to do her thank-yous and her farewells and her bows.

When the lights dim, he follows Katniss's security guards backstage, where he makes a beeline for Katniss. She glistens with sweat, but her face breaks into a smile when she sees him, and he reaches her in about three strides to crush her to him for a passionate kiss.

He doesn't care who sees.

* * *

It's nearly two in the morning by the time Katniss's driver pulls up to the modest condo she owns in the Hollywood Hills. They managed to keep their hands and hormones in check on the ride back from the club that had hosted the tour's wrap party, but now they can't get inside quickly enough. Peeta grabs his bag, and Katniss thanks her driver, and his lips are on hers in a flash as he backs her towards the front door. She struggles with the key, her body twisted awkwardly to keep her mouth fused to his, and when the lock finally gives, they stumble inside.

She grabs his bag from him and tosses it to the foyer floor, pawing at his flannel shirt, her fingers diving through his tousled hair.

"I want you so bad right now," she growls between feverish kisses.

"You're not tired?"

"Fuck no."

He grins against her lips. He loves hearing Katniss swear, especially because he knows it's because of how turned on she is, how desperately she craves him in the moment.

"You know what sounds amazing?" she whispers, nibbling on his lower lip, her fingers tickling his stomach above the waist of his jeans as she un-tucks his white t-shirt.

"Mmm, what?"

"Soaking in the hot tub… …you and me naked…under the stars…"

His shorts suddenly feel uncomfortably tight, and he groans when she steps back, kicks off her heels, and starts stripping off her clothes.

"What are you waiting for?" she teases, unhooking her bra and lobbing it at him. She loops her thumbs in the lace band of her panties, shimmying her hips seductively, but she doesn't remove them yet. She turns around and struts through the living room. His cock strains against his fly again as he ogles her perfectly toned ass. Quickly, he undoes his belt and pulls down his jeans and boxers in one yank.

He follows Katniss's trail of clothing, passing through an immaculate, modern kitchen, to where sliding doors are open and he sees Katniss fiddling with a panel. Then the swimming pool floods with light, and the hot tub tucked into the corner gurgles to life.

"We'll just give that a minute to heat up," she says, strolling towards him. She presses herself flush against his body and takes his lower lip between her teeth, tugging gently. "Did you bring a condom out with you?"

"Ah…" he shakes his head and motions towards his pants that lay on her living room floor.

"Go get it," she orders, her fingers reaching between them to stroke his hard-on. "Because we're going to need it."

He groans when she purposefully squeezes his dick, and he presses a kiss to her lips and dashes back inside to retrieve the condom from his wallet.

When he gets back outside, the hot tub is bubbling invitingly, and a thin veil of steam rises into the night air. Katniss sits at the edge, her legs dangling into the water, her panties now gone. She sees him approaching, and she crooks a finger at him, slipping down to get settled on the bench, her naked body disappearing beneath the eddying water.

He sets the condom down within reach and hisses when his toe touches the surface of the water. She laughs softly as he eases in and then stifles a squeal when he hauls her onto his lap.

"Mmm, you're so hard," she whispers, rocking along his erection.

"And you're fucking gorgeous," he replies, levering her body up to bring her breasts to his waiting mouth. He flicks his tongue out, teasing her nipples while she moans and continues swiveling her hips.

"Peeta, I…_ooh!" _She bites her lip and her eyes slip closed as his teeth graze one puckered bud and he uses his tongue again to soothe it. He threads a hand through her loose hair, which is starting to get damp from the humidity.

"Katniss, open your eyes and look at me," he commands softly. She complies and gazes directly at him, her grey irises a smoldering charcoal hue. "You're so sexy. You want me to fuck you right now, right here. Real or not real?"

"Real," she says, whimpering when he squeezes her tits together and nuzzles them with his nose and mouth. "God, I need you inside me. Please…please…I don't want to wait any longer for you."

Their mouths connect as his hand gropes for the condom, struggling to tear it open with his wet hands. He finally frees it from the foil packet and Katniss eases off him, splashing lightly as she drifts to the far side of the hot tub.

It's not an easy task to roll the condom down his rock-hard shaft, given how slippery it is. He's not even sure it's a good idea to use it in the hot water, but he knows Katniss is on the Pill, and they should be covered either way. Katniss watches him, licking her lips, eyes riveted to his groin.

"You ready?" he asks, luring her back to where he perches on the edge of the bench. She nods and wraps her arms around his neck, as he grips her hips with one hand and guides himself to her entrance with the other. Katniss hisses and buries her face in his shoulder, muffling her cries as he thrusts into her. She's so fucking tight, and between the feel of being inside her and the sultry warmth enveloping them, a brief dizzying sensation makes him a little light-headed.

"Peeta, go ahead. Move. It's okay." She bears down on him and rolls her hips, coaxing him to set a rhythm.

"You feel fucking perfect."

She unwinds her arms from his neck and braces them against the tile on either side of his waist. Her moans intersperse with soft splashes and the hum of the jets as she rides him. The water actually aids his stamina, and once he feels the first signs of his imminent climax, he grunts and reaches down to rub her clit.

"I'm close," he pants, his finger drawing frenzied circles over the nub.

"Oh…god…Peeta, I'm gonna…"

Her walls flutter and clench around his cock, and he shuts his eyes as the waves of pleasure inundate him. He comes with a grunt and she nuzzles his neck and drags her nails along his shoulders and down his back as he rides out his orgasm.

He brushes her damp hair out of her face and she melts against him, laying her head on his shoulder while they both recover their breath and the aftershocks ebb away.

"I'm just going to go to sleep right here," she mumbles, her index finger drawing hearts over his breastbone. He laughs and presses a kiss to her temple.

"Wouldn't you rather sleep in your own bed tonight?"

"This morning," she corrects, "and yes, sleep sounds good. Sleeping wrapped in your arms." She sits up and pushes his wet hair back. "I think that you've inspired me again, Mr. Mellark."

"Is this going to be a regular occurrence, you writing songs about me?"

"Maaaaybe," she teases. "At this rate, I might have to call my next album, "All About Peeta."

"Sounds awful," he jokes. "No one would buy it."

"Well, it's music to my ears."

He shifts her around so she's spooned against his back, kneading her shoulders, and he kisses up and down the nape of her neck. He can feel her relaxing under his touch, and after some time her head starts to loll.

"Katniss?"

"Mmm," she replies groggily.

"Come on, let's go get some sleep. You're exhausted."

She stands up, her naked body dripping wet, and he watches a rivulet meander down her collarbone and drip off the tip of her peaked nipple. He rises and climbs out of the hot tub, helping her over the ledge.

He removes the condom and ties it off, then grabs a towel from the chaise lounge and wraps it around her torso, then secures one around his waist. He looks down at her, and she blinks when a drop of water from his hair lands on her right eye.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, cupping her cheek and tilting her lips to meet his in a gentle kiss.

They only manage to dry off before Katniss leads him to her bedroom and they slip between the cool sheets, still naked. She nestles against him, tucking her head under his chin, her hand warm on his bare chest.

"You love me. Real or Not Real?" he asks quietly, feeling the tendrils of sleep beginning to tug at him.

"Real," she murmurs. "And there will definitely be many songs written about it."


End file.
