#fran writes

Empty hot chocolate mugs rest on handmade coasters on a scratched wooden coffee table that's seen better days. Full of character is how you like to describe it. Hunk of junk, Jason always corrects. A smile flickers across your face as you take in the deep gouge on its rounded edge where Jason's knife embedded itself upon your first meeting. Dumpster diving in Gotham City is a high risk, high reward venture, but you never imagined you'd come face to face with Red Hood doing it, or that he'd be sitting on your couch watching bad shows with you almost two years later as a result.

"What are you smiling about?" he asks with a soft one of his own. A little crooked and a little fond, the kind that flusters you every time you see it. His eyes catch yours for a moment before you have to look back to the television screen.

"Nothing," you deflect. "The show. This guy is a total loser."

He snorts. "Yeah, I can't believe they stayed together after he admitted he doesn't get off when they have sex."

"Oh, please," you say. "He's a loser for so many other reasons. How many women stay with men who don't get them off?"

The question is rhetorical, but he looks at you then and you feel caught in his crosshairs. Your face heats in embarrassment but you can't look away. The resulting giggle, nervous and high up, gives you away entirely.

"How many guys have you been with like that?" Jason seems scandalized on your behalf.

"None!" you blurt immediately. It's only true because you haven't been with anyone.

Not that you're uninterested or incapable or whatever… it just hasn't come up. Nothing wrong with being a late bloomer.

"Uh-huh," Jason says thoughtfully, head tilted, blue and otherworldly green eyes still staring into your own.

You're worried what he's finding there. Too much, probably. Far too much. Why does he have to take everything you say so seriously? And why can't you play it cool?

His hands tighten around your calf and your heart thuds, but all at once he's looking back at the show and you're saved.

His grip relaxes but remains.

The breath you puff out is audible.

You chance a few nervous glances in his direction over the course of the episode. He's staring at the screen but seems lost in thought. There's that wrinkle he gets between his brows like when he's serious about something. You can't count how many times you've seen it. During lectures about personal safety. Dissertations on the Brontë sisters. A detailed catalogue of the differences between semi-automatic and automatic weapons.

You hadn't realized that your guilty pleasure TV shows counted among these passions, but maybe you underestimated his interest.

…It couldn't be that he's thinking about you. That would be silly. Too foolish even to contemplate.

Right?

The embarrassing moment fades as the evening stretches on, allowing you to fully settle back into the couch and the points of contact between you. When you first met it felt like there were miles of distance between Jason and the rest of the world. Now only a few layers of clothes separate you.

A new couple is introduced on screen and you have to bite back an awkward cough as the woman admits to the camera that she's a virgin.

You can feel Jason looking at you.

You can't make yourself look back.

"Just ask," you snap.

"Have you ever—?"

"No."

"Really?"

He sounds so genuinely surprised that you turn to face him. Jason is unfairly handsome in this soft light. Eyes bright and hair tousled, freckles dancing across the tapestry of tight pink scar tissue that holds so much of him together. Kintsugi.

You fold your arms across your chest and scowl. "It can't be that surprising."

"Why shouldn't it be? You're funny, smart, beautiful." He lists these things off as fact. You know they're fact, but it's different when someone like Jason says them out loud.

"Shut up." You're sweating.

He leans forward, forehead wrinkle making an appearance. "I'm serious."

"I know, you're making your serious face!" you cry, covering your own face with your hands. It's too much. Not enough. You don't know.

"I don't have a serious face." You can hear the wrinkle deepen.

"Yes you do," you peek between your fingers. "There! Between your eyebrows. You're serious."

Silence stretches between you. Something normally peaceful - companionate, even - is suddenly electric. What if hangs in the air between you, close enough to reach out and touch.

It's just that you had sort of already come to terms with dying a virgin and never ever doing anything about the stupid crush you have on your best friend who also happens to be an undead vigilante with a soft spot for classic literature and illegal firearms and definitely not you, who once got mugged for trash out of a dumpster in broad daylight and had to be rescued, coffee table and all. It has never once factored into your pining that he might like you back enough to tease about your inexperience, to pry these kinds of answers from extremely embarrassed lips that seem unable to stop incriminating you. Even hiding your face like this you know he sees right through you. He always has.

"We're best friends, of course I am," Jason finally says, voice much closer now as he shifts across the couch. He moves your legs aside to get closer. You tuck them under yourself, sitting up straighter. Then he peels your fingers from your face, holding your hands gently, not letting them go even as they fall away. "Have you ever thought about it?"

You look down at your joined together hands and give a faint squeeze. "Obviously I think about it sometimes, but it's just—" you sigh in frustration. "I can't— I mean I'm not—"

He lifts a hand to your chin and tilts your face toward him. When you finally meet his gaze there is so much care and steadiness and tender wanting in his eyes that anything you might have said gets stuck in your throat. "Do you want to try?"

"I don't know how," you whisper. You're not sure why you're whispering.

His hand is still on your chin, touch featherlight but firm. Grounding. Electrifying. He runs his thumb over your lips and your breath catches.

"I can show you," he whispers back, pupils blown wide, tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks dusted pink. "If you want."

Your exhale is shaky and your nod slow, eyes wide with fear and want. You do want.

"Can you say it for me?"

"Yes. Please can you— Yes."

Jason moves his face to yours slowly, slowly, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort or disapproval. Giving you time to run, if you want. Say no, push him away, anything. You reach out your hands and fist them in the soft material of his shirt. His breath tickles against parted lips.

Your eyes remain wide, even knowing what's coming. Wanting to take it all in, maybe. His crinkle with affection as he presses his lips to yours oh so softly, never once looking away. The kiss is brief. Tender. You blink owlishly when he pulls away.

The moment you remember to breathe again you use your purchase on his clothing to pull him back and kiss him once more.

This time both of you close your eyes and sigh. It's soft and explorative, the natural give and take of figuring out what it is that you like. You try different angles, giggling breathlessly when the bridges of your noses bump. His lashes flutter butterfly kisses across your cheeks as he presses another to the corner of your mouth. Your chin. Your jaw. Open mouthed down the column of your neck until he reaches the spot where you gasp. He stays there, smirk pressed against your skin while you squirm.

The graze of his teeth against your hammering pulse jolts you into action, hands loosing from his shirt to begin a thorough exploration. First the soft of his stomach, then the strength of his shoulders. The broadness of his back. Raised skin from scars old and new tell their stories at your fingertips as you touch beneath the fabric of his shirt. A thousand and one battles fought over the course of two lifetimes. All of them bringing him here. To you. To this.

His hands roam as well, broad and strong and cold against the scorching heat of your body. He groans when he feels that you aren't wearing a bra, cupping your breast and passing a thumb over your nipple to feel it stiffen against his cool scarred skin. You arch into him, keening at the sensation.

"You're cold," you whine.

"You're burning up, angel," he murmurs back between kisses. "All this for me?"

You tilt your head back and sigh as he kisses that spot you like again, thighs clenched together desperately. "You know it is."

He hums against your skin, pleased, before pulling back and looking you in the eyes. "Do you want more?"

You're nodding before he can even finish the question, adding a please just in case he needs to hear it out loud. Like he truly needs it now; Your body is playing traitor, skin furnace hot and pupils blown wide and pulse racing and underwear damp already.

He nods, serious face back as he looks between you and the couch and your bedroom door. "I can't fuck you here."

"Wha…? Why not?" you clutch at his shoulders like he might disappear.

"It's your first time," he says. Smooths your hair back. Kisses your forehead. "Has to be a bed, nice and proper."

"Didn't know you were gonna pull out all the stops," you grumble, but the consideration makes your heart ache.

"If you want all the stops…"

Without further preamble he scoops you into his arms and marches to your bedroom. There's no hiding his smile at your delighted shriek of his name.

The television hums in the background, forgotten.

Jason lays you atop patchwork bedding with the gravitas of an old school lover. He flicks on the bedside lamp, soft orange glow illuminating the adoration that shines through his mismatch eyes.

"You're doing so good, angel."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says. "Can I take some of these clothes off you?"

The way you throw your oversized t-shirt across the room in one swift motion before he even gets the chance has him laughing, soft and intimate. Just for you. It makes you forget to be embarrassed. You're already halfway through shimmying your sweats off when you remember that this isn't an equal exchange.

"What about you?"

He hesitates only slightly. "If you want, gorgeous."

You do.

Jason pulls his shirt off slowly, revealing a broad expanse of pale, scarred skin. It's impossible not to notice that he's built like a brick shithouse with his clothes on. Without them, you send a silent thank you into the universe that he hasn't been skipping meals. There are freckles on his shoulders, but the way he's flushed from his chest to the tips of his ears it's a little hard to tell how many. You'd like to count them, someday. Dark hair peppers his chest and stomach, trailing down to where his sweatpants are slung low on his hips. Your mouth goes a little dry when you see the bulge in his pants.

There's a moment where you both just stare. It should be awkward, most of the way to naked in front of the best friend you've been quietly in love with for forever.

It isn't.

Jason makes you feel safe. You only hope that you make him feel the same.

"Are you ready, beautiful?" he asks.

"Your pants are still on."

"I know," he smiles. "Wanna taste you first. Can I?"

You nod, returning his smile with a sheepish one of your own. "Should've worn a thong."

That earns you a laugh, bright and clear and from his belly. He hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you to the edge of the mattress. When he settles there between your legs he looks up with dark, hungry eyes.

"I dunno," he kisses along your inner thigh, "the granny panties are really doing it for me."

Your laugh is a choked, embarrassed thing, cut short by the gentle nip of his teeth. Maybe full coverage faded polka dots are in right now. When he finally makes his way to the soaked core of your underwear his hot breath sends thrills up your spine. Then he presses his nose to it and takes a long, deep breath.

If it wasn't so hot you'd be mortified.

"So wet f'me, baby," Jason groans. "Smells sweet. Bet you taste even sweeter."

The shock of cool air against your wet core when he peels your panties away makes you squirm. Your first instinct is to close your legs, but he holds them open with steady hands and admires.

He glances up at you then, eyes sparking with mischief and something warmer, before leaning in and licking a long wet stripe. You gasp at the sensation. He moans at the taste.

Jason quickly adjusts to your body and its wants, eating you out slow and steady, listening for each hitch of your breath to know if he's found something you like. It feels so good that you're not sure what to do. He holds you so there's no wriggling back to escape the intensity of pleasure. Your hands feel useless fisted in your bedsheets, cupping your breasts, covering the wanton sounds trying to escape from your mouth.

He comes up for air when you bite back another just to say, "Uh-uh, baby. Let me hear you."

So you do.

His broad shoulders shudder as you chant his name into the bedroom air like some kind of prayer. Your hands find purchase in the thick waves of his hair. When you grab a fistful of black and silver strands at the root and tug him even closer his nose nudges against your clit and you swear you see stars.

He's quick to notice and replaces the sensation with a thumb working tight circles while you cry out your pleasure. His tongue is then replaced with fingers working themselves inside of you. First one, then two, then the delicious, aching stretch of three. He crooks them just so with each thrust, brushing up against heaven inside you. Writhing, roiling heat coils itself in your belly, winding tighter with each touch. His moans at the way you're coming undone make you feel lightheaded and hazy.

"Shit, Jay," you pant. "Fuck, think I'm gonna— I'm—"

"Close?" he finishes for you. "It's okay, angel. It's supposed to feel good. Just let go. Can you do that for me?"

You nod desperately. Anything. You'll do anything for him right now. His steady rhythm and pressure has you tumbling over the edge of an orgasm that leaves you breathless. It's a symphony of pleasure that spreads to the very tips of your fingers and toes, Jason working you through it the same patient way he's worked you through everything else. You've touched yourself before, of course, but right now it feels like you haven't. Like everything up until this was just a shadow puppet show of the real thing. Plato's allegory of the pussy.

"Holy shit," you whine once the ringing in your ears quiets and your vision clears. "This is so much better than whatever the fuck we've been watching."

His laugh is halfway between smug and shy when he crawls up your body and claims your mouth in a triumphant kiss. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

He leans back and wipes his mouth and smiles. "We can stop here if—"

"I want you to fuck me, Jason. Please."

You don't even care how desperate it sounds. It's true. Despite the sarcasm and cynicism and dramatic monologues he fronts with, Jason is the most kind, considerate person you know. He's known among the elderly population of your apartment complex as the nice young man who carries groceries in without being asked. He walks Crime Alley hookers home after their nights working the streets, staring down any weirdos that try to follow them. Once you caught him handing out books he'd stolen from some high end crook's collection to kids on the street. Who else would you trust with your first time?

"Fuck, angel," he shakes his head like he still can't believe this is happening, "you only ever had to ask."

It sends heat rushing to your core all over again to hear him say it. You watch with rapt attention while he rids himself of his sweats and briefs. His cock stands erect, leaking a bit from neglect and just as flushed as the rest of him. He's… big. You knew he would be, but still your tummy flutters in anticipation.

He leans in and kisses you again as if to distract from the size. "Gonna be so gentle. Make it good for you."

"Will it be good for you too?"

Another kiss, this time to your forehead. Brief. Sweet. "It's already good for me, baby. Let me take care of you."

He moves to line himself up with your entrance, but only rubs back and forth. The light friction teases, makes you squirm.

"Next time—ahh—" you say as the tip of him catches against your clit, "Next time I'm gonna take care of you."

"Yeah? Next time?”

"Yeah," the word comes out a desperate sigh as he finally pushes himself past your entrance.

He goes slowly, giving you time to adjust to the foreign stretch of him inside you. It's so strange at first - not bad but different. Inch by inch you breathe through the pleasure-pain to the sound of his fervent praise.

Just like that, I've got you.

Easy, baby, that's it.

You're so beautiful. Can't believe I get to touch you like this.

Feel so perfect, angel. Doing so good for me.

When he finally bottoms out he holds there, hands cradling your head, and just looks at you. His smile wobbles, adoring. Tears shine unshed at the corners of his eyes. You reach a hand up to cup his cheek and he melts into the touch, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

His thrusts start slow and shallow, allowing you to adjust until he settles into a deep rhythm that pulls a medley of sound from you. Sweet nothings and sighs and moans and groans and a steady stream of filthy cursing that quirks the corners of his lips.

A single tear escapes down his cheek the moment he settles into your body, looking down at you like you're some kind of salvation. He presses wet kisses to your face, your breasts. When he captures your lips again you kiss back with all the emotion brimming in your chest.

Panting into each others mouths you rake your nails down his shoulders and back. His nostrils flare and his eyes seem to go even darker. When he presses down on your clit and starts circling it you let out a cry as the heat that's been burning in your belly turns wildfire.

"Jason," you keen. "Fuck, I'm close."

"Yeah?" he pants. "Gonna cum for me?"

You nod senselessly, babbling yeses into the air as he takes you closer and closer and closer to the edge and then farther and farther and farther past it. He fucks you through ecstasy, the wet snap of his skin slapping against yours muffled by your pleasure.

He's gentle in the comedown, waiting until your hips start moving to meet his once again before setting a brisker pace, chasing his own pleasure.

"Where do you want me to—?"

"Inside. Wanna feel you." Your cheeks burn saying it but you've always wondered what it might be like.

A lightning bolt of desire zaps through you as he whines at the thought.

It only takes a few more thrusts before he collapses over you with a cry of your name. His body is warm and solid and strong and he murmurs something that sounds like thank you between chaste kisses to the crook of your neck.

The two of you lie there until your breathing steadies. Your arms are wrapped around his body, fingers running over the back of his scalp in soothing patterns. He sighs into you. Then slowly, carefully, he eases off your body and sits back. You wince slightly at the sensation of him slipping out of you, feeling empty. He watches with fascination as some of his cum drips out as well, cheeks pink with pride as much as bashfulness. When he looks back up at you your heart feels fit to burst with all the love and gentle concern you find there.

"How do you feel?" Jason asks.

You stretch, catlike, and smile up at him utterly satisfied. Utterly in love. "Like I want to finish our episode. Think we can still make it to the tell-all tonight?"

Pushing back the curls that had gathered around his forehead, Katniss observed Peeta with a newly found lens. She hadn’t noticed how strong his jaw was and how smooth his skin looked, or how flushed his cheeks got as he rested. Even his pink lips looked softer and fuller… They always seemed to give her so many smiles that Katniss wondered if Peeta’s face ever hurt. When he made her laugh with absurd stories or blunt situations coated with swear words, Katniss could feel just how her cheeks ached and how her eyes burned with tears. Perhaps it happened to him as well because of how rosy his cheeks got and the way he tilted his head back when he laughed clearly indicated he was also enjoying what he said. Even when she said something that wasn’t meant to be funny, he found a way to either bring out its humor or simply let out a chuckle. Katniss knew she wasn’t the funniest person, but her dark sense of humor and sarcasm amused Peeta regardless. Maybe it was because he was always laughing that she couldn’t fully notice how supple his lips were when they weren’t smiling. She’d seen him annoyed and upset a couple of times, and being a human being, Peeta was capable of having a large range of emotions just like Katniss. However, more often than not he was a ray of sunshine and Katniss couldn’t describe the energy that radiated from him. She just knew it was infectious and if she was ever feeling upset or down before, she knew that Peeta would brighten up her mood, or at least comfort her so she could process her own emotions.

For the time being, as he slept, all Katniss could make out from looking at him was his relaxed expression. As she leaned into him, not only could she focus on his features better, but she could also feel the heat that came from his breath and hear the light snores that sounded adorable. Why had he agreed to stay with her? Not that she minded because she knew Peeta was willing to do just about anything for her. However, it was an impulsive thing for both of them. What he said, too, had her turning it over and over in her head.

“Always.”

The more she thought about it, the more lost she felt, but the option of asking him didn’t seem to be the best idea. What would be his explanation? ‘It’s because we’re best friends’? Somehow, that didn’t make sense. Maybe he would have done the same thing if Johanna or Finnick would have asked him, but it didn’t feel too plausible because they wouldn’t ask him to stay with them in their bed in the first place. She didn’t even really know exactly why she asked him to be there, either. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to leave. They had had such a great time together that being separated by sleeping in different rooms didn’t sit well with her. It made more sense they stay together through the night, too…

What was so different now than from any other night back in their apartments? She could easily invite him to stay for the night in her room, so why now of all the days? The sight-seeing, the dinner, the walk through the park were certainly different. They’d eaten together, but never had dinner like that. It felt more intimate and private, and she saw Peeta in a new light that she hadn’t noticed before. His eyes shone in a different light, his smile was brighter and more ecstatic, and even the way he carried himself felt more confident and shier at the same time. Had she behaved differently, too? Had he noticed anything new from her? Too many thoughts swirled in her head and made her world stop and spin before feeling like her mind blanked out. The answer was clear and foggy, and without an answer from Peeta, she couldn’t determine anything. Asking him directly, though…would be weird, wouldn’t it?

But then she remembered how he had leaned into her at the park and suddenly, those lips that curved up with joy and spoke words of gold gave her a newly found sense of appreciation. The impulsive that hit her the previous night made an appearance again and her mind lost control of her body as it did what it pleased with her. It pushed her to lean forward and gently press her lips upon his, timidly feeling the way his mouth felt against hers.

They were as soft as they looked. It was brief, and frankly Katniss wished she’d been bold enough to wake him so he would be aware of what she did, but there was the uncertainty of Peeta’s actual feelings. If anything, it would be her little secret. As she curled into him, she brought her fingers up to her lips, replaying in her mind the small peck she gave him and thinking about how it would feel if he would participate. Would he be gentle or impatient? Innocent or passionate? Timid or bold? Her imagination took her to places she hadn’t thought of before involving Peeta and she couldn’t help like she was committing some sort of sin. Everyone had visualized kissing their best friend, right? That was completely normal!

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed lost in thought, but at some point, she dozed off again until the moment her door opened. She sat up in defense only to find Effie on the other side of the door along with her uncle. The grimace on her face must have indicated to them that she didn’t appreciate being awakened so abruptly, but Effie looked concerned.

“Have you seen Peeta?”

The inevitable yawn that escaped her lips allowed her to look to the side, expecting for her friend to be there beside her. It wouldn’t make sense that Effie would ask her about Peeta if she hadn’t already seen him lying next to her.

“Have you tried his room?” Katniss asked with a bit of annoyance.

“I assumed he would be with you. His bed was neatly made…and you two came back so late we thought…”

“That he’d spent the night with me?” Filling in the words for their escort, Katniss raised an eyebrow at her. He had slept beside her, but she wouldn’t admit that to either adult in front of her. Peeta could have gone anywhere after waking up and at least he had the common sense to not wake her up. “Do you really need my uncle following you around?”

“I came just in case I did find him sleeping with you,” Haymitch answered, his tone a bit cutting, which Katniss thought didn’t fit him. He sounded too much like a father for her own liking.

“Well, he’s not here, so try somewhere else,” Katniss bit back. “And even if he was here, why would it be your business?”

“If who was here?”

Their attention shifted from Katniss to Peeta and for once, she wasn’t very pleased with that because she wanted to know Haymitch’s reasons for suddenly taking an interest in her life.

“Peeta! We have been looking all over the place for you!” Effie took her phone out, pressing buttons here and there as she spoke. “I have Caesar waiting for you to take his call. It’s about the contract.”

“Already? He said it wouldn’t be ready until a week from now,” Peeta said as he came into the room. “You have to see the roof, Katniss. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Maybe you can take me later, after you take care of that important call,” Katniss proposed with a lazy smile.

Winking at her, he turned to look at Effie before she handed him the cell phone. She guided him out of the room, but Katniss could hear Peeta’s voice as he walked along the hall to the living room. Only Haymitch remained in her room, but his gaze analyzed her. She glared back at him, challenging him with her eyes which were as cold and steely as his own.

“You’re not very good at lying, sweetheart,” Haymitch said. “Getting laid, though…play it safe.”

Katniss scoffed at him, tossing him a pillow with irritation and embarrassment. She shouldn’t have felt ashamed because nothing had happened between her and Peeta, but she still felt defensive as heat rushed to her face.

“We didn’t do anything!”

“Sure you didn’t. That’s why you’re so angry all of a sudden.”

“We’re just friends. Why is everyone assuming we have a relationship or sex?” She asked with frustration.

She ran a hand through her hair and looked away from her uncle and to her dismay, he closed the door behind him and took a seat at the edge of her bed.

“Your body language has a lot to do with it, for one thing,” Haymitch answered. “Nothing wrong with dating a friend. Just don’t lead each other on. That’s where problems start.”

“What do you mean?” Katniss felt confused with Haymitch’s cryptic messages for sentences. She had woken up just moments before and she didn’t need a conversation like this to greet her in the morning.

“He took you out to dinner, Katniss,” Haymitch pointed out.

“So? We always go out to eat together,” Katniss shrugged. “It’s normal for us.”

“He asked me for permission.”

“Because Effie told him to.”

“I think he would have asked me regardless of being instructed to do so. It’s not just that, though. You two are becoming public figures because of the paintings. You’re a hot topic and believe me, a picture of either of you is worth a lot right now. This city loves feeding on the new kids and the popular kids, especially the paparazzi. Guess which one you are.”

Katniss had crossed her arms and at first, averted her gaze to the wall instead of facing her uncle. Yet as he continued to speak, what he said started to dawn on her. “They took pictures of us from yesterday?”

“And it’s already on the news,” Haymitch nodded, a mocking smile pressed on his mouth. “How refreshing were the sprinklers?”

With a horrified expression and wide eyes, she stared at him, knowing fully well what he meant by that. “I thought the security guards were supposed to take care of us.”

“They were there to protect you, not keep you out of the public eye,” Haymitch said with a scowl. “You saw those reports from yesterday. Even if you say it isn’t true, to them, it’s more real than their ridiculously painted skin and hair. That’s why I’m saying if you know where you and Peeta stand, don’t lead him on. Those pictures of you will paint a different picture for him if he sees them. Might put a strain on your friendship. Or friction, depending on you.” He winked at her, but it lacked Peeta’s playfulness.

She tossed him another pillow with more force this time and she had the satisfaction of seeing it hit the right side of his face.

“Fine, I believe you. If you had gotten laid you wouldn’t be this grumpy, believe me.”

“Out!” Katniss shrieked, her face moments away from melting off of her skin from how much heat she felt. She armed herself with another pillow and stood up to push him off her bed.

She heard him laugh as he stood, avoiding her pillow by ducking out of the way. He took something out of his pocket and left it on her desk before walking out. “Don’t rock his world too hard, sweetheart!”

The door closed before another pillow could hit him, but the lasting effect stayed with her. She looked at what he left for her only to gape in disbelief at the packets of condoms, not believing that her uncle would think such things from her. There was a moment of hesitation before she reached for them, inspecting the foil packets with disgust. This wasn’t happening; her private life could not become the public’s business. Unfortunately, she couldn’t deny that her uncle had a point. If the news got that crazy over an interview, who was to say they wouldn’t do the same to pictures of her and Peeta on a supposed date?

The knock on her door surprised her, making her drop the packets in a moment of panic. Collecting them frantically, she felt like she was trying to hide a clandestine object, but she didn’t want the person behind the door to see them, much less know she had them. “Wait!” Gathering them was like trying to put together her wits, but as soon as she had them all in her hand and shoved them underneath her pillow, she yelled out the okay to come inside. If it was Effie, she did not want the awkward conversation she had had with her uncle to get repeated. She wasn’t sure if she felt relief or anxiety when she saw Peeta come through the door, but at least he wouldn’t hound her about anything that alluded to them having sex.

“I heard you yell. Are you alright?”

“Relatively speaking.” In reality, she had been shaken to her core with the assumptions that she and her friend had a relationship that included more than just innocent touching, and they were both to blame for the way they acted around each other.

The sight of pillows on the floor caught Peeta’s attention, but deciding against asking her, he simply went to pick them up. Even though he never mentioned it, Katniss knew how much a mess bothered Peeta. He stress-cleaned, but seeing anything out of place caused the stress, and by cleaning it up he felt better instantly. It amused Katniss that his desire to have things in order was expressed through organizing things himself. Watching him prompted her to pick up the rest of the pillows she had thrown and put them aside to make her bed. Unfortunately, by doing so and by having Peeta’s help, he moved the pillows from the bed, including the one that she so desperately hoped would not get moved so as to cover the damn rubber packets that felt like they had neon signs on them.

“What’s this?” he asked.

On instinct, Katniss jumped onto the bed and reached for them, taking them in her hands and pressing them to her chest. “They’re for me to know and for you to never find out.”

“Oh, really?” Peeta asked, scooping the blankets into his arms before placing them on the desk chair. “Are they that special?”

“’Special’ isn’t exactly the right word,” she drawled out as she rolled her eyes.

“Then, why are you holding them like your life depends on them?” He poked her stomach and chuckled when he saw her jump, but her grasp on the small packets wouldn’t budge.

“I wouldn’t say they’re that important. It’s more…complicated than that,” she sighed.

“Oh, I think they matter some to you, what with you not wanting me to see them and all,” Peeta pointed out. “You missed one, though, or rather, it missed you.” He reached for the packet that rested on the floor and brought it up, reading the label on it with curiosity. “Where did you get these?”

“I didn’t get them!” Katniss countered. “They were given to me!”

“By who? They look fancy.”

“They are not fancy! They are repulsive!” Katniss was sure her face was flushed and it was getting a kick out of Peeta who couldn’t help holding back a laugh. “Remember how…there were these girls giving things out in school? Well, they gave some to me. I forgot to throw them out.”

Peeta raised an eyebrow at her, taking a long look at her before turning back to the packets. “And you say I’m bad at lying,” he mused. “It’s okay to have these. You’re an adult, Katniss. Having sex is normal.”

“You say that like you’ve done it yourself,” Katniss said as she leaned on her elbow to look at him.

“Well…maybe I have.” It was Peeta’s turn to look away, and it was one of the only times Katniss had seen him shy away from something. She didn’t want to press the subject in fear of making him uncomfortable, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to know more.

She sat up to give him her full attention and set the condoms on the bed beside her. “Did…you enjoy it?”

“I kind of did…kind of felt a bit rushed.”

“Do you mind me asking with who?”

“Um…during my first semester with my then-girlfriend.” As he spoke, he rubbed the back of his neck, something he did when he wanted to ease tension he felt.

“Oh,” Katniss gulped, clearing her throat as she tried to keep the conversation from becoming even more awkward. However, her curiosity couldn’t understand that she had to leave the subject alone. “Why have you never told me about this girlfriend?”

“I broke up with her some time before you and I became friends. She wasn’t the most…faithful partner.”

Hearing the words and processing them were two completely different things and Katniss had a hard time doing the latter. Processing required rationality, but after what Peeta told her, nothing made sense. There were so many things that she wanted to say, but it would have sounded like an incomprehensible pile of word vomit and her lack of composure must have been evident in how she stared at him in disbelief. There was no way in the world that someone as sweet and kind as Peeta could have something so unjust happen to him. Nobody deserved it, but the least likely person to go through that in Katniss’s mind would be the boy sitting beside her. There was something else besides the disbelief, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Rage? Fury? She hadn’t heard about this girl, but she already hated her entire existence just for the mere act of putting Peeta in such a difficult situation.

Her mouth felt drier than a desert, but she couldn’t just stay quiet, not after what she heard—and processed—what Peeta told her. “I will kick her ass if I find out who she is.”

“You and Jo both.” A shy smile graced Peeta’s lips. “Don’t worry about it. I think she transferred out of UD12 and went back to UD1.”

“I will go to UD1 specifically to hunt her down. And you know how good of a hunter I am.”

“I know,” Peeta said. “I’m sure you’d terrify her.”

Katniss crawled towards him and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face on the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I would have told you at some point.” She felt Peeta’s hand caress her hair gently, but she wondered if he did it more for his sake than for hers. “What about you? Had a first time before?”

She stiffened impulsively at the question. “Nope. And every time Darius wanted to, I’d shut him down quickly.”

“Well deserved.” She could only imagine the smirk on Peeta’s face as he said that. Truth-be-told, she couldn’t blame him.

“Wanna keep these in your back pocket?” Katniss asked as she let go of Peeta and reached for the foil packets, this time lacking the embarrassment from before. “You never know when you’ll need them,” she said with a wink.

“Keep some for yourself, too. They may come in handy in case you ever decide it’s time.” Now, she could see his smirk and it was both glorious and the most mischievous grin she’d ever seen. Had Finnick taught him to smile like that?

“Oh, hush. Are you going to show me the roof or are we just going to keep talking about sex?”

“I mean, I could keep going, but that’s really all up to you, sweetheart.”

Before she could even think about it, she got up and tossed him a pillow in response.