stillplaying | 7th Game [action/voice]

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7th Game [action/voice]

[Action]

[The bakery is a mess. She never meant for it to end up that way. It just sort of happened. Flour covering hair and body, the smell of something burning from the kitchen, flecks of pink frosting teasing her cheeks. Peeta's normally presentable window displays are less than ideal; a poor attempt at recreating the alluring cakes that always caught her attention back in District Twelve. The frosting's melted from the summer heat on one that's sat out since Friday. Another is poorly covered with a grey color -- an attempt at mixing food dyes gone horribly wrong.

Ingredients for various baked goods have somehow escaped the kitchen, piled up on the counters, half covering the note cards Peeta had left for her. Cookbooks borrowed from the library lie open elsewhere, pages now far from pristine. Half baked pretzels stock the shelves along with burnt chocolate chip cookies. Deformed cheese breads and crumbled brownie bites still in their trays sit nearby. Even Buttercup, easily pleased by any free food, ignores the easy pickings.

She tried. She had tried so hard. Peeta had left her recipes. Had tried to teach her how to bake on lazy days when she was more content to spend time with him in the bakery than go about her own thing. It seems that every lesson has been forgotten. Any skill she might have had in the kitchen, utterly gone.

The rain pours outside as she plucks at the rock hard shortbread cookies she's recently retrieved from the oven, trying her best to peel them from the tray. It's a halfhearted effort as she leans her head against her hand and stares out the window. She'd rather be hunting. But it's been raining ever since Peeta left for his mission, raining so hard, all she's been able to do is check a couple of the traps in the river behind their house. And she had promised, hadn't she? Promised she'd look after the bakery?

Look how miserably she failed, the worry making it hard to breathe, harder to concentrate. Shouldn't he be back by now? Shouldn't he?

Every few minutes, she checks the journal for signs of life. Ignores Buttercup begging for real food. Glances at the door to see if Peeta's finally return. No luck. No luck at all. He's supposed to be back today. Why isn't he back yet?]

[Voice]

Why do you bother? [The words aren't meant to be recorded in the journal, but they are, anyway. It barely processes to Katniss that she's left it laying open, close enough to pick up any mutterings.] Going on these missions? Being a piece in their games?

It's stupid. This is all stupid.

[ooc: timed to after mission is over, when people start arriving home. but if you want to tag during -- feel free to have katniss in the bakery making a mess from friday on!

also, edit for warning of sexual content in the Peeta thread.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She's not at the house. The bakery is a war zone. He comes inside and it feels like someone else's house, and he's the intruder.]

Katniss?

Peeta?

[The tray of chocolate chip cookies she had been carrying out from the kitchen, perhaps her only decent batch the whole weekend, is dropped to the floor when she sees him enter. She stands there, frozen except for her grey eyes, which search him up and down for any visible injuries.

The relief is visible when she finds none. Finds nothing but Peeta, standing in front of her like he never left.]

Peeta. [And then she's running towards him, hugging him tight.]

[He catches her in his arms and holds her tight.]

I'm sorry. I was just doing makeup the whole time. I wasn't in any danger.

[It's a lie, of course. If their cover had been blown, they'd have all been killed.]

[Was he really? She doesn't know. If it's a lie, she wants to believe it. Wants to believe more than anything that he would have been safe. That no harm would have come to him because she wasn't there to protect him.

How could she have been so stupid? So damned selfish as to let him go alone? What was she thinking?]

No more. [She barely gets out the words, throat suddenly choked up with angry, worried tears.] Please? No more missions.

[He says nothing, simply squeezing her hard. He's racked up just enough points to get the barcode cover for her, but he can't guarantee he's not going to want more to protect her once it wears off.]

[There's no answer. Not aloud. And it makes her worry even more. Doesn't he understand? What it does to her when he's away and there's nothing she can do about it?

The easy solution would be to go with him. To give in to the Malnosso and go on their damned missions.

But the easiest solution is to give in to her worry now, her anger. Pull back, wipe at the tears in her eyes, and shove him. Hard. Much like she did that night during the first reaping he told all of Panem he was in love with her.]

[He wasn't expecting it. That's why he flails backwards for two steps before falling, hard, on the tiled floor.]

Ow! What the hell, Katniss?

[She hadn't meant to shove him that hard. Not really. But with the floor as much of a mess as it is, it's not too surprising he fell, is it?

Still, she looks guilty. Just for a moment before the stony face is back.]

You're going to, aren't you? Go on more missions.

No! [He picks himself up, tense with anger, voice raised.] I'm not going on more missions, Katniss. Do you know what it was like? I'm doing makeup for these performers, and the Count's in the audience, and if anything ticks him off he can order us all killed. Does that sound familiar to you?

[It sounds familiar. It sounds all too familiar. And for a few seconds, all she can see in front of her isn't Peeta or the bakery, but Cinna. Cinna being dragged away by Peacekeepers as the seconds count down until she's launched in the arena.

Cinna.

It's too, too familiar.]

You could have died. [The words are a whisper. And then the anger comes back.] You said you weren't in any danger!

I wasn't a performer, Katniss. I wasn't a likely target, and no one was going to blow our cover. It just. [He shakes his head.] What did you do to my bakery?

[It's not fair, changing the subject like that. Because she's still fighting through all those frustrations, all those hours of worry. Being unable to sleep. She hated it. Hated it all. Doesn't he get that?]

Tried to keep it operational while you were gone.

[She couldn't hunt. Not properly, not in this rain. What else was there to do, but bake and pretend she was okay with Peeta being gone?]

...I'll get some hired help. I'm sorry. [He's still angry, and it sounds more spiteful than sincere, but it's still sincere.]

[The spitefulness manages to outweigh the sincerity to Katniss' ears. She flinches, even though she probably deserved it. Trashing the bakery, shoving him on to the floor.

And it makes her question, not for the first time, what he's ever seen in her? How he could risk so much for someone so awful?]

It's my fault. I...

[...couldn't hunt. Couldn't sleep. Kept worrying. Kept hating herself for not going with him. But she doesn't know how to say any of that aloud.]

No. No. Stop.

[Now his anger abates to a dull murmur, and he tries to take her in his arms.] Listen. I won't go on any more missions, okay? You did what you could, here. I shouldn't've left you by yourself.

[She shakes her head quickly, letting him hold her again. He has it wrong. All wrong. She was being selfish. She should have gone with him.

The dandelion in the spring. The boy with the bread. It's her job to protect him. Just like it's his, to show her how life can be good again.

What would she have done if she had lost him? That?

She's not sure what comes over her then. The impulse that washes over. But before she can stop herself, her hands are on his shoulders and her lips are pressed against his in a kiss.]

[He inhales in a hiss--surprise--but does not draw back. That is physically impossible to do when Katniss Everdeen kisses you. He knows that she'll go cold again in a minute. That's why, for now, he simply kisses her back.]

[It takes longer this time. Longer to pull away, longer to fight that feeling growing in her stomach. It's one she's only felt a couple of times before. That heat that makes her almost want to not stop, not pull away.

But she does. Eventually. And it's with a faint smile on her lips despite the conflicting emotions inside.]

[Peeta, however, moves back in when she breaks the kiss, trying to recapture her lips. It's like water being taken away after days of thirst. It's not fair. It's cruel.]

[When given the choice between talking or kissing Peeta, kissing him of her own free will, the answer is surprisingly simple. She doesn't expect it to be, not really. But it is, isn't it?

Because kissing Peeta means she can block everything else out. Means she doesn't have to worry about him being gone. Doesn't have to think about this stupid game they're trapped in. And more than that, she can reassure herself. Reassure herself that he's alive and here. Here with her and not going anywhere.

Arms wrap around his neck this time and she steps as close to him as she can possibly get. Somehow, it doesn't feel close enough.]

[His arms wrap around her waist and tug her close, so close she can surely feel the flutter of his racing heart. This is good, very good. Better than when they were married, because this is real. It's him and it's her and it's real, isn't it? Is it real this time?

At least, it must be as real as their day on the rooftop, before the Quarter Quell. It has to be at least that real. Her mouth is hot and her lips are warm and dry, so it feels real. Even if she goes cold again in a second, let this be real.]

[Her own heart is pounding. In sync with his own? She can't tell. Whatever tempo their hearts are creating, it's easy to get lost in. Just as easy as it is to get lost in the taste of him, the feel. The smell of the bakery around them, mingled with his own distinct scent.

This is real. This is so very real. She's nearly lost him -- how many times? Between the Games and his hijacking and the stupid missions and shifts and -- too many times. She doesn't want to let go, doesn't ever want to let go again.

Giving in to the hunger, that's what she wants. Fingers curl against the nape of his neck and she gives a contented sigh at the decision. Not wanting to stop. That's actually real.]

[Anyone can walk in. He wraps his hands under her hips and lifts her, carrying her into the kitchen. He doesn't even look. He doesn't stop kissing her, if he can help it.]

[It's an action that takes her by surprise. Oh, she knew Peeta was strong. Never doubted it. But there's something surprisingly... exhilarating being lifted by him like this. Trusting him not to drop her, not to let her go.

For a second she flounders, grips the back of his t-shirt tightly before any kind of instinct to wrap her legs around his waist kicks in. But that doesn't seem to stop him and that just seems to fuel the hunger further. Without hesitating, she deepens the kiss, pressing her lips harder against his.]

[Once the door to the kitchen is closed, he sets her down, presses her against him, and keeps kissing, keeps drinking her in, until between kisses and gasps for air he manages:]

Is this it? Are we together?

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