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

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?

[She looks almost hurt when he stops the kisses. Feels as if she's been deprived as something as vital as water or air. Was it like this for him, when she had paused their kisses earlier?

But she doesn't get to ask that. Doesn't do much aside from suddenly sit up straighter at the question, grey eyes wide and afraid.

Is this it? Are we together?

So much like real or not real. Is this real? The starcrossed lovers of District Twelve? Together. Real or not real? Only able to pick one answer. Because she knows Peeta. They've done this to each other too long to know nothing but a real answer will do.

To know that if she bolts, even as she glances at the door as frightened as a deer facing one of her own arrows, she'll lose him. But that knowledge doesn't make it any easier.

She swallows hard. Runs a tongue over swollen lips. Real or not real? Fingers dig into his back as she clings tighter to his shirt, now for an entirely different reason.

One more moment, eyes plead. This is courage she doesn't know if she has.]

[Not lose him. Never lose him. Not if he has to wait a hundred years. His eyes widen, and he shakes his head.]

Shh. It's okay. [He kisses the corner of her mouth.] You don't have to answer. Not yet. It's okay. [More kisses, in between each sentence.]

[But she does, doesn't she? Even as she yearns to lose herself in his kisses again. She has to answer because he deserves one.

Because he's Peeta Mellark. And she, Katniss Everdeen, she --]

I don't deserve you.

[He freezes, then lets out a sigh that is halfway a sob into her hair.]

Katniss, you deserve better than me. Please. I love you. Don't think about deserving or undeserving, not if you love me, too. Don't let it be the reason we're not together, not if we could both be happy.

[Is this love? She's still not certain if she can tell. But it's need. It's definitely need. Maybe Gale was right. Maybe this entire decision will be based on who she can't survive without.

Because if she's learned anything recently, it's that she can't survive without Peeta. The past couple of days, not knowing how he fared on the mission, were akin to hell.

He deserves better than her. But for some reason, he loves her.]

No more missions. [There's a pause as she takes a breath, closing her eyes and giving in.] Not unless I come with you.

[He stares into her eyes, hands drawn up to cup her face, breathless. He kisses her brow as everything in him collapses.] Okay. Okay, I promise.

[He promises and she promises. She's not going to abandon him again. Not unless she has no other choice. Never, ever again.

Does that mean, though, that they're together? That this is real? Because it feels real. Rather than angry, she's frightened. Her heart's pounding again, now for an entirely different reason.]

What if I mess it up?

[Her voice is low, worried as she stares into his blue eyes. Strong eyes. She's never done this before. Been with him, for reasons more than anyone's game.]

[A soft, ironic laugh. She's asking the guy whose most prominent example of a relationship is his parents?]

I don't know. If one of us messes up, we just go on. Keep going. Together.

[He kisses her.]

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