“I do,” I say. “I need you.”

Peeta had kissed Katniss before.

That was the strange part.

He had kissed her in a cave while rain drummed against stone and cameras watched from somewhere beyond the trees. He had kissed her on a beach beneath a sky that wasn't really a sky. She had kissed him, too—sometimes because Haymitch wanted a show, sometimes because she was terrified he was dying, and sometimes for reasons she hadn't known how to name.

But this was different.

There were no cameras anymore.

No sponsors. No Capitol. No audience waiting to decide whether they believed them.

Just District 12 in the spring.

Katniss sat on the low stone wall behind Victor's Village, watching Peeta work in the garden. He'd planted primroses near the house weeks ago. She hadn't asked him to. She hadn't thanked him either.

But every morning, when she saw their pale yellow blossoms, something inside her hurt a little less.

Peeta looked up and caught her staring.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You've been watching me for ten minutes."

"I have not."

He smiled. "Seven, then."

Katniss rolled her eyes, but there wasn't much force behind it.

Things had become easier between them lately. Not easy. She wasn't sure anything would ever be easy again. There were still nights when Peeta woke screaming, nights when she woke reaching for a sister who wasn't there. There were still moments when his eyes went distant and she knew he was fighting memories that had been twisted into weapons.

But there were other moments now, too.

Peeta bringing over warm bread in the morning.

Katniss leaving a rabbit on his kitchen table without explaining why.

Long afternoons when they said almost nothing at all.

It had been months since either of them had kissed the other.

Katniss had noticed.

She hated that she'd noticed.

Peeta wiped his hands on his trousers and came to sit beside her.

Their shoulders touched.

That was all.

Still, Katniss became suddenly aware of every inch between them.

Peeta looked toward the meadow. "It's nice today."

"You're terrible at conversation."

He laughed softly. "I was trying not to mention that you've been staring at my mouth."

Katniss's head snapped toward him.

"I was not."

"All right."

"I wasn't."

"I believe you."

"You clearly don't."

His smile widened.

She shoved his shoulder.

He caught her wrist.

Neither of them moved.

It wasn't like the cave. Back then, every touch had carried a question she couldn't answer. *Is this real? Is this for the cameras? Is this what I'm supposed to do?*

Now Peeta's fingers were warm around her wrist, loose enough that she could pull away whenever she wanted.

He wasn't asking anything of her.

And suddenly Katniss knew.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

Peeta went completely still.

For one horrible second, she thought she'd made a mistake.

Then his hand released her wrist and came carefully to the side of her face.

He kissed her back.

There was no desperation in it. No performance. No need to convince anyone watching that she loved him enough to save his life.

There was only Peeta.

His thumb brushed her cheek. Katniss felt that familiar warmth begin somewhere deep inside her—the one she'd felt once in a cave and had been too frightened to examine closely.

Only now she understood it.

She pulled back first, but only far enough to look at him.

Peeta stared at her.

"What?" she whispered.

"I'm trying to figure out what that was for."

The question stung more than she expected.

Because of course he would ask.

She'd spent years teaching him that every kiss might mean something different.

Katniss looked down at their hands.

"It wasn't for anything."

Peeta was quiet.

"No cameras," she said.

"I know."

"No one to convince."

"I know."

She looked at him again. "I just wanted to."

Something changed in his face.

Not the bright, teasing smile he'd worn a few minutes earlier. This one was smaller. Almost uncertain.

"Really?"

Katniss nodded.

Peeta's eyes dropped briefly to her mouth.

"Can I?"

It was such a Peeta question that she nearly laughed.

Instead she whispered, "Yes."

This time, he kissed her.

And this time Katniss didn't have to think about what she was supposed to feel.

She curled her fingers into the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. Peeta made a surprised little sound against her mouth, and she smiled before kissing him again.

When they finally separated, his forehead rested against hers.

"So," Peeta murmured, "that one wasn't for anything either?"

Katniss opened her eyes.

"No."

"Good."

She kissed him once more, quickly.

Peeta smiled. "And that?"

"Shut up."

He laughed, and she leaned into him, letting her head settle against his shoulder.

In front of them, the meadow moved gently in the breeze. Behind them, primroses bloomed beside the house.

There would still be nightmares tonight.

There would still be bad days.

They were not fixed.

Maybe they never would be.

But Peeta reached for her hand, and Katniss let their fingers weave together.

For once, there was no audience to tell them what their story was supposed to be.

They could decide for themselves.

And when Katniss kissed him again, it belonged only to them.

If it’s any consolation, you’ll be hailed as a hero.

Then Peeta throws a wrench in the whole thing. Because he loves her. And he wears it proudly. But even then, Snow is not worried. This is nothing new. Star-crossed lovers mean nothing. No alliance can last. One of them must kill the other, in the end. That is how this story goes.

WHY WOULD YOU TELL HIM?!? \ ET interviewer told Josh Hutcherson that Mckenna Grace made "Team Peeta" fan edits.

For reference, Grace said in Teen Vogue:

“I'll tell you something I haven't admitted in an interview before,” Grace begins, her voice halting. “I don't even know if I've told any of my Hunger Games cast this. It's well-known on the internet that I might have had a secret editing account at times in my life.” The edits in question, she reveals, were Peeta Mellark-centric. “There may or may not be a few McKenna Grace-made Hunger Games edits floating around the internet. From, like, three years ago. I hope to God [they don't pop up]… I'm still so tapped in with that community. It's so weird getting to be a part of those sets now. I'm like, 'Francis, I used to edit this.'"

"twice the number of tributes, twice the glory"