Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time he offered to brush her hair (so soon after they'd started to grow back together), she told him no. The only people she'd ever let do anything with her hair were her mother and her prep team. The idea of letting someone else, even him, brush her hair seemed like too much. As soon as she had snatched the brush from his hand, she regretted it. The look on his face confused her. Katniss simply couldn't fathom why he'd even offered.

By that point in their cohabitation, Katniss had become accustom to the feeling of waking up alone in the big bed she and Peeta shared. That morning she'd instead woken up feeling too miserable to bother moving. She figured she'd picked up some terrible bug, probably from the children at the orphanage they'd been spending time with.

Peeta came home for lunch (as he did most days) and panicked when the kitchen looked the same way it had when he'd left hours before. Usually when he strolled in, she was in the kitchen, either making lunch (she would never be as good of a cook as he was but she tried) or cleaning whatever game she'd caught that morning. He moved up the stairs as quickly as he could and began shouting her name. She couldn't do much more than moan in response so when he reached her and found her still laying in bed he quickly gathered her into his arms. “What? What is it? Are you alright?” As soon as she opened her mouth to assure him she was alright, she began coughing violently.

“Katniss, why didn't you call me this morning? I could have stopped and gotten you some medicine or something.”

Both of them were still getting used to the increased availability of medications, not to mention the fact that they could afford any possible treatment they might need or desire.

“I'm fine, I really am, it's just a little cold,” Katniss finally croaked out.

“You're obviously not fine if you haven't even moved since I left this morning! Let me go get you some juice.” Peeta started to turn away to gather whatever he could find in the house to make her more comfortable.

“No!” Katniss practically shouted in his face, “Stay, please?” She had her hands balled up in his flour-covered shirt now and had nearly moved herself into his lap.

Peeta started to stroke her hair and held her to his chest. “Okay, okay,” he soothed. “How about we lie down for another twenty minutes. Then I’ll draw you a hot bath to soak in. First let me call the bakery to tell them I won’t be coming back today.”

“Thank you,” Katniss murmured so quietly that Peeta barely heard her.

Half an hour later Peeta dropped all he'd collected onto the bed and headed into the bathroom to find Katniss laying in the bathtub with her eyes closed. He grabbed her comb off the kitchen sink and sat down next to the tub as quietly as he could manage. She smiled weakly and opened her eyes slowly. “Feeling any better?” he asked as he put the back of his hand to her forehead.

“Eh,” she moaned, “the hot water feels good.”

“I thought it might,” he replied, gently moving her half-braided hair out of the tub. He began to remove the braid slowly, neither of them saying anything. Every time her dark hair was even a bit mussed up or freshly wet from a shower he felt that urge to run his fingers through it and brush it for her. He'd been truly heartbroken when she'd refused him the first (and only) time he'd asked. He knew it was silly and that she clearly didn't understand why he wanted to do it for her so badly, but it hurt. It felt so intimate to him, almost more so than any of the other activities they'd shared.

Katniss sat up a bit so he could gather all of her hair, wondering why she'd never let him do this. For just a second, she felt like an innocent child, being taken care of by someone she knew truly loved her. It would only be years later, as she combed out her young daughter’s hair that she understood why Peeta seemed to always yearn to do this for her.

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She'd seen all of Peeta before, but after the rebellion, after everything she and Peeta had been through, dealing with his new leg was a struggle. It didn't bother Katniss (not after it stopped reminding her of what he'd gone through, what they'd gone through, in their first games) but it made Peeta incredibly self-conscious.

The first few times they'd spent the night together, they were both fully clothed after falling asleep on Katniss' couch, doing nothing in particular. After close to a week of waking up with kinks in their necks, some sort of silent agreement seemed to have been made, and Peeta would lead Katniss up to her bedroom each time they'd begun to nod off.

When they reached the bedroom, they both stood near the door, unsure of how to proceed.

“Um, I'm not sure I have anything in the house that you might be comfortable wearing to sleep but-”

Peeta cut her off. “I didn't think to bring anything, but I usually just wear boxers so I could leave my shirt on if that's okay?”

“It's, yeah, whatever you want is fine,” Katniss squeaked out in reply. She walked over to her dresser and picked up a nightgown. (She'd grown partial to wearing the ones Cinna had designed since she'd been home.) She nodded toward the bathroom, “I'm going to, uh...”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, take your time.”

When Katniss walked into the bathroom she leaned against the closed door and took a deep breath. They'd been spending the night together for nearly a week, the fact that they'd be a bed was no big deal. They'd slept together in a bed on the train way back when, it would fine, she reassured herself. She would be fine. They would be fine.

Outside the door, Peeta quickly stripped off his pants but left his shirt on. He knew it was too hot for that, but the last thing he wanted was for Katniss to be uncomfortable. Every morning when they'd woken up on her couch, he'd worried it was too much for her, that the next night she would want him to go home.

Every evening he would ask her if he should leave, begging her to be honest with him. He'd assured her over and over that she wouldn't hurt his feelings if she sent him home (though he knew if she did, it might break his heart). Every evening she told him that she slept better with him there, that she enjoyed being held by him.

By the time Katniss had changed, washed her face, and brushed her teeth (murmuring to herself the entire time about how everything was normal and good and wonderful), Peeta had crawled into her large bed, leaving one side of the sides down for her.

She quickly burrowed herself under the sheets and comforter, despite the fact that it was warm that night. “You sleep with all this stuff every night?” he asked her.

“Uh, no, not really,” she answered. He made a goofy face, determined to keep the mood light, to keep her happy. She started to roll toward him in the bed but when she grimaced, Peeta shot up.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, it's nothing.”

“Katniss, please, we said no secrets? Is your side hurting?”

“No, it's just that I, my, my foot hit your leg and it surprised me a little.”

Peeta was quiet for a second, looking down at his hands. “I'm sorry, I can put my pants on, I-” He started to get out of bed.

“No!” Katniss exclaimed, “Peeta, no, it's fine, it just threw me off, please don't.” She grabbed his hand, “I'm sorry, come here.”

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and she moved closer to him.

“It doesn't bother me, I promise you that. Does it bother you, Peeta?”

“I, it's just...” They sat in silence as time passed slowly, Peeta with his face in his hands, Katniss just watching him. When he finally spoke again it was little more than a whisper, “In the Capitol they dye people's skin, they do all these crazy things so they can look nice but this is the best they can do?”

Katniss continued to watch him, unsure of exactly how to respond. “Are you, does it still hurt? Or is it just hard for you because of, you know, the games?”

“Both, I guess. It just seems like there should be a better solution than this thing. After all we've been through, this is the best they can do?”

As the tears welled in his eyes, Katniss moved behind him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. She began to kiss his neck and whisper in his ear anything she could imagine might make him feel better.

“Peeta, it's okay, I'm here, you're okay. We'll fix this, we always do. I'll make it better, I promise.”

It was by far the most intimate they'd been since they'd been home, and she was so glad she could be there for him, that she could let him vent his frustrations.

After both of them had shed their tears, she moved slowly around to his front. She knelt on the ground before him and put her hands on his thighs. “Katniss, no, we're not ready for that,” he responded as he tried to move her hands away. Her face turned red when she realized what he believed her intent to be. “No, Peeta, not that,” she said quietly placing her hands back on his thighs.

She slowly removed the prosthetic and set it on the ground, near Peeta's clothes. She moved back toward him and left a series of slow, sweet kisses on his raw skin. It did look irritated and she made a mental note to get it touch with someone (maybe her mother, maybe someone in town?) soon and find out if there was something that could be done about it.

When she looked up at Peeta she saw that look again, the one that he gave her whenever she surprised him. (It seemed to be happening frequently lately.) His eyes were wide, in shock, but so happy, so loving.

She climbed back into the bed, pulling her with him. “I told you, I'm okay, you deserve to be okay, too.”

“Says the girl who wouldn't even talk to a doctor until a few weeks ago.”

“Hey, what can I say? I'm a fast learner.”

That night, with Katniss curled up on his chest, Peeta felt more comfortable with where his life was going than he had been in so many years.