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 takes his hand in her own but not before trying to steal a quick look around the store. But the aisles are too high for her to see over and well, she's too flustered and nervous and even a bit excited to try hard.

Katniss gives him another nod and pushes the door open, cheeks flushing red once again when she thinks of why they just stopped. She shouldn't really, but she can't help it.

The umbrella goes back up as she steps out into the rain.]

[A smile crosses Peeta's lips.]

Hold on to the umbrella.

[With a swift motion, he sweeps her up into his arms to carry her bridal style, while she can still hold the umbrella over them both.]

Wouldn't want to get your feet wet.

[She barely has time to look up at him in question before he picks her up and she nearly drops the umbrella. There's a cross between a startled yelp and a laugh in response to the unexpected action.]

Peeta!

Don't worry, I got you. [He doesn't care who sees, either. With her snug in his strong arms, he sets off for the house.]

[That she doesn't doubt. He's risked everything for her far too many times to ever think otherwise. Suffered too much too, because of her.

Peeta Mellark would never drop her. Never let her go.]

Okay. [Said with relative quietness, yes still loud enough to be heard despite the rain. She wraps an arm around his neck while the umbrella's held steadily above their heads in her other hand.]

[Carrying her like this in the rain is somehow as dreamlike a thing as being whisked off to another world, where the Capitol is far away and even the present danger isn't always pressing. He rests his cheek against her hair as he carries her. Inevitably, the hems of his jeans are getting damp, and her hair is frizzing in the damp air. That's good. Her hair. He spent all day painting beautiful things on womens' faces, and some of them reacted like it made them more beautiful. Katniss, with her hair pulled back from her perfectly unpainted face, brown wisps of it escaping from its braid, is pure beauty.]

[Despite the chill of the damp air, Peeta's body is warm around her. His cheek against her hair comforting. If she knew what he was thinking right now, she'd deny it all. Tell him that he was probably crazy.

(Which he is, isn't he? To love her and want her like this?)

It's probably for the best that she doesn't know. And that she remains quiet, safe and sound in his arms while she fights away any lingering fears.]

[When they arrive at the house, he's left with a bit of a problem. His hands are full, and so are hers. After some deliberation involving the gigantic puddle he's standing in, he makes his decision.]

Well. Here we are.

[Slowly, tenderly, he'll begin to set her down. Without telling her about the puddle.]

[Her rain boots had been left behind at the bakery in their haste. The shoes she currently wears were not designed for the heavy rain. Far from it. So the cold wetness of the puddle is a shock to her system when Peeta sets her down in it.

It's the last thing she expects.

Previous thoughts forgotten, she nearly jumps in reaction and drops the umbrella. Turns around and whirls on him, ignoring the door and warmth only a few seconds away. The scowl is unmistakable.]

You could've warned me!

[And she pushes him. Not for the first time today.]

[He chuckles playfully as she pushes him, but this time, he's expecting it.] If it makes you feel any better, I'm standing under a drip. [He leans in for a kiss anyway, murmuring:] I'll make it up to you. How's that?

[He'll make it up to her. If his kisses are any indication, he'd probably be very good at that.

The thought is enough to warm her whole body and still make her shiver. It makes her smile shy again as she pulls a key from her pocket. Makes her kiss him back so shyly and hesitantly as their first kiss that she can almost hear Haymitch scowl and say, "You call that a kiss, sweetheart?"

Just as quickly as he starts the kiss, she ends it and turns around to open the door.]

[Once inside, Peeta barely waits for the door to be closed before he's peeling off his soaked shoes and socks.]

Um. I just got back from a mission, so you probably want me to take a shower.

[She kicks off her own shoes and socks, not caring if they make a mess in the hallway. No one else lives with them now. It's just her. And him.

Her and him. In a place where no one could interrupt them. No one can overhear them or watch them. They're... alone. And this? This'll be for no one's entertainment but their own.]

No. [The word is firm despite the growing blush on her face and neck.] I've been in the bakery all day. [And most of the night.] I'm just as dirty. I... I don't want to wait anymore, Peeta.

[She wants this. Wants this now, while she's still willing to give in to the hunger. While she's mostly not afraid.]

[His eyebrows go up. Somehow, that wasn't what he was expecting. He hesitates, trying to figure out what to do next. Right. Bedroom. Bedroom? Whatever, he's going to kiss her again. At the contact, his heart starts racing again. Katniss, his Katniss, all to himself, beautiful, unkempt, brilliant Katniss whose voice makes the birds stop to listen.

He's picking her up again, the way he did at the bakery, lifting her off her feet and carrying her into the bedroom.]

[All the bravado she felt in that moment seems to disappear when he hesitates. Did she say something wrong? Was she being too forceful? Had he finally saw reason and changed his mind?

Maybe she should just flee. Maybe this--

And then he's kissing her and the world's spinning. His heart is racing and so is his and she can't feel the ground beneath her feet and she doesn't care. She's kissing him back, twining fingers in his short blonde hair, and if this is what it means to be together, to really be the couple the Capitol fell in love with, maybe it's not so bad.

She briefly feels the door the bedroom behind her back before they're in her bedroom - their bedroom? - and she's kissing him harder, more desperate, anything to make the nerves go away.]

[He tries to place her on the bed as gently as possible, but if her head bounces a bit, the gentle headbutt doesn't really slow him down. Then the soft mattress is under his hands and knees, and he's suddenly worried that hovering over her will make her feel threatened. Instead of straddling her, his knees are to one side of her, maybe that will help her feel less trapped, because he is not about to have the presence of mind to snap out of it at the first sign of her discomfort.]

I love you.

[Whispered between kisses, like a butterfly ghosting across her lips. The backs of his fingers tentatively brush against the fair olive skin of her neck, skin that is uncharacteristically soft to belong to someone like her.]

[She's not going to tell him to stop saying that. She's not. Because rather than hurting, rather than making her feel guilty, it's starting to feel nice. Hearing again and again that he loves her, really loves her. She'll never understand how, or even why, but maybe that's not something that matters as much as she thought it once did.

Rather than responding aloud, she just smiles at him and finds his lips again. They're so soft and welcoming and his fingers, she's finding, are just as good at stroking skin as they are at kneading dough or painting canvases. She snuggles closer to him, wanting to be enveloped by his body as completely as she's given into this hunger.

She bends her legs, trying to turn on her side, fingers tightening in his hair, wiggling, doing anything that would mean getting closer. Feeling his chest hard against her own again.]

[The smell of her hair goes to his head like strong wine. Her body is lean, but parts of it are still soft. As she presses against him, he can feel the curves of her, through too many layers of clothing. Now he gives in, sliding a knee between her thighs--but not too far up. Testing. He has enough presence of mind to take it slow. His fingers continue down her throat, fingertips resting against her rapid pulse. His other hand cups her cheek.]

[It's a little like a victory when he moves that knee to sit between her own legs. Like that moment on the beach, before Finnick interrupted them. How Peeta's kisses didn't satisfy then, only made her need greater. Now, even every movement he makes isn't enough. Nothing feels like it can ever be enough.

But this Peeta hadn't been there. Didn't remember how wrapped up in each other they had gotten. It's okay. She's happy to show him.

Her hold on his hair loosens. One hand moves down to the space between his shoulder blades while the other cups the hand on her cheek. Opening her eyes, she breaks the kiss to smile timidly at him. Before the kiss can resume, she's trying to move his hand to her lips, so she can gently kiss the pad of each finger.]

[He allows her, and watches, mesmerized. Somehow, it's completely acceptable for him to adore her, but this reciprocal affection is unexpected now they're alone, unwatched, and have no one to save through feigned affection. His other hand is moved to the bed to support himself.

When her lips touch his thumb, his other fingers curl under her chin while his thumb brushes her lower lip.]

[She prefers it like this. These moments when they're alone, when they have no one's expectations to live up to but that of the other. It's in these moments where she feels comfortable enough to be herself. There's no pressure. Not when Peeta already loves her like he does.

But that doesn't make the nerves completely go away. As he watches her, she steals a glance upward and nearly loses herself in that blue eyed gaze. The corner of her lips quirk into a nervous grin before she lifts his hand from her chin to kiss his palm.]

Does that... does that feel good?

[Peeta gives a nervous laugh.] Yeah. [With his other hand, he smooths the hair back from her face.] If I do anything you don't like, you'll say, right?

[That laugh makes her laugh a little herself, just as nervous. She moves his hand to caress her cheek now, rather enjoying the control he's giving her.]

I will. [She pauses for a moment, eyes flickering to the package of condoms that fell out of his pants pocket. She swallows hard. And then, even if it is already rather obvious, says:] I've never done this before.

[His eyes follow hers to the condoms.] Neither have I. [A pause.] Does that matter?

[She shakes her head quickly and for a second there, can't help but wonder if Gale ever has. She knows he kissed other lips, knows how other girls fawned. But if there's any thought of anything that doesn't belong here in this bed, it's of her old friend.]

I think I like it better this way.

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