She's going to kill Madge when she gets back in the fall.

When Katniss's roommate told her that she found the perfect person to sublet her room over the summer while Madge was abroad, she wasn't expecting this.

"Peeta's so tidy and a great cook," Madge raved to her during their weekly wine night. A fellow student in Madge's graduate art history program who was stuck between leases, this Peeta seemed to be the perfect roommate. She'd be damned before she was stuck spending with the summer with some rowdy undergrad, so she agreed to use them as her subletter over the summer.

She just wishes Madge told her that Peeta was a guy.

A really, really good-looking guy.

In her defense, Peeta was kind of a feminine name. And nearly all of the friends Madge brought round their place for study sessions were girls.

He doesn't look like he's an axe murderer or anything, with his blond curls and shining blue eyes that even his glasses couldn't obscure. And Madge generally is a good judge of character.

She just has to keep her guard up.

"Rent's $650, utilities are $60. The key opens both the back and front doors, the laundry room's across the hall, and we only have one bathroom, so try and keep it tidy," she says to him as he brings the last of his things up the narrow staircase to their second floor apartment.

He nods, his biceps flexing in his tight blue t-shirt as he sets a medium sized box on the floor.

"Thanks for letting me stay, Katniss," he says earnestly, before pulling his glasses off the bridge of his nose to clean the lenses with the hem of his shirt. She pretends not to notice when it rides up, exposing a sliver of his flat stomach.

"No problem," she mumbles, face flushing. "Let me know if you need anything," she says, before pushing past him to rush into her room.

It's going to be a long summer.

Peeta, she realizes, is much tidier than she or Madge ever would be. He never leaves his things out in the bathroom, his shaving supplies and shower necessities aligned perfectly against the ledge, his toothbrush never straying from it's designated place in the holder.

He cleans up after himself in the kitchen, putting dishes into the dishwasher immediately after they're used, and even puts things away if she leaves them out.

And he's incredibly easy to live with.

He's sitting at the breakfast bar one morning, munching away at a muffin he's baked (another thing Madge neglected to mention: he baked. Amazingly), when she stumbles into the kitchen, harried and rushing because her alarm didn't go off.

He greets her kindly, to which she grunts out a 'morning' in return. She rummages through the cupboard, looking for her damn breakfast bars when she realizes she's run out.

"Fuck," she mumbles. She really doesn't have time to make anything, but she really hates to skip out on breakfast. It always makes her grumpier than usual.

She's about to stride out of the kitchen, ready to pull her shoes on and run out when he grips her elbow. "Hey," he says amusedly, and before she can glare at him, he offers her a muffin.

She looks at him for a moment, before looking down at the muffin again. "I can't exactly eat these all myself," he says lightly, his blue eyes twinkling.

Katniss softens a bit, mumbling out a quick thanks, before grabbing the muffin from his hand and running out the door.

She pretends not to notice the little jolt she felt when her fingers brushed his.

After the muffin episode, they become friends of sorts. Peeta tells her about the research he's doing for the department chair, and she's actually interested when he raves to her about the work he's doing (which she never pretended to be with Madge). Likewise, he listens with rapt attention when she tells him about urban revitalization project she's been working on with the city aldermen.

They eat dinner together most nights, which she enjoys, and even spend time together on the weekends.

She still has to hide in her room when she sees him come out of the bathroom after a shower, though.

They're sitting on the couch, their eight-pack of beer depleted before Peeta announces he's turning in for the night. He bids her a goodnight, his eyes crinkling with his smile even with his slight drunkenness, before stumbling back to his room for the night.

Katniss watches him as he walks down the hall, her eyes growing heavy as he makes his way into the room, before settling closed.

It's still dark outside when she jerks awake sometime later, rubbing her neck from the crick she got from falling asleep in an uncomfortable position, before getting up to go to bed.

Her normally light footsteps are heavy with her inebriation, but she still hears it when she passes by his room. The door is open just a crack, but it's enough so that she can hear it. Hear him, inside, moaning and grunting, and she instantly feels herself sober up.

His breaths are short and gasping, and she can almost see him in her mind's eye, leaning against the headboard and stroking, touching, jacking himself to completion. She leans against his doorframe, her blood thrumming in her body and her core beginning to ache, her own breathing growing heavy as she hears him do that.

She doesn't, however, expect for her name to be mixed in with his groans and breathless gasps when he comes.

And she only hopes that he's asleep when she gets herself off later, after she's locked her bedroom door, so he can't hear her moan out his.

The mortification begins to set in after she's come, laying in her bed, her chest heaving with heavy breaths as her body relaxes from being wound so tight.

What. Has. She. Done.

Katniss immediately shoots up, her movement so sudden it causes her bed to jerk back into the wall behind her. The wall she shares with Peeta. Who she accidentally caught touching himself, touching himself apparently to thoughts of her, causing her body to strum so badly with a need that she made herself come harder than she had in months.

How is she supposed to be able to look him in the eye now? Their friendship provided her with a much needed sense of companionship, with her sister still in their hometown hundreds of miles away and her few friends away for the summer, and as much as she was loath to admit it, knowing that she could come home after a long day at work and being able to hang out with him made her days just a little bit better.

And now it was all ruined. Because she couldn't just stay asleep on the damn couch, and he didn't know how to close a door properly or keep it fucking down with his low groans and gasping breaths and the way he mumbled her name with his husky, strained voice before he reached his climax. And because she didn't have any self-control and couldn't help herself from bolting to her room, stripping down, and rubbing herself to thoughts of what he looked like while he was doing that with his voice moaning her name on repeat in her head until she came.

It would be a long month until he moved out and her nightmare was over.

She wakes up much later than usual the next morning. Even on weekends, she wakes up earlier than most people, as if her weekday waking schedule was hardwired into her brain, but her phone's bright screen flashes back 10:24 am.

She drags herself out of bed and stretches, peering around her messy room and making mental notes of everything she needs to clean up before Monday rolls around, before throwing on her robe so she can go take a shower.

Her reflection is almost frightful when she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. Black smudges from the light eye makeup she habitually wears whenever she has an important meeting at work circle her grey eyes. Her hair is spilling out of her braid, and there's dried drool at the corner of her mouth. But despite looking an absolute mess, her eyes are brighter than they normally are, clear and open and almost shining.

Probably because you came harder since you have in forever.

She flushes at her own uncharacteristically lewd thought as she turns the shower on, allowing the tiny bathroom to fill with steam.

It really wasn't that nice of an orgasm. But when she thinks back on how she felt last night, she immediately calls her own bluff.

It isn't as if she'd never come before, she thinks, lathering her hair shampoo. She was a red-blooded, twenty-something year old woman dammit. She'd had boyfriends (in the loosest sense, mostly guys who she'd gone out with only a few times, always coming up with one excuse or another to stop seeing them when she realized she didn't really care for any of them), had been getting herself off with her hands since she was a teenager, and even had a vibrator she broke out for special occasions, despite how frigid Madge teased her about being.

It really wasn't that big of a deal. But of course, she'd never overheard an incredibly attractive, kind, male roommate jerk himself off to thoughts of her before.

Her hazy memories of the night before and the steam of the bathroom cause her to knock a few bottles off the window ledge in the shower, sending them tumbling to the ground. She huffs, because she's acting stupid, and bends to pick up the bottles when a crisp, clean scent permeates her senses. Peeta's shampoo, a little of which has spilled onto the shower floor.

Peeta's shampoo, the scent of which clings to him all day. Peeta, with his blue eyes, so blue that his glasses can't even hide the strength of their hue. Peeta, and strong arms that his t-shirts don't always totally contain. Peeta, the incredibly attractive man renting out her roommate's bedroom for the summer, whose voice made her clench her thighs together and caused heat to pool between her legs, especially when said voice was brokenly gasping her name in the throes of passion.

Her legs wobbled a little bit as she tried to forget, but she couldn't even pretend like she wasn't affected.

Good thing the previous tenants installed a massaging showerhead.

Katniss emerges from the shower much later, and using a lot more water than she normally liked to. The door to Peeta's room is slightly ajar as she walks by to her own bedroom, and she pokes her head in, only to find it empty. There isn't any noise coming from the living room or kitchen, so he has to be out.

That has good. The less time she has to spend with him, the better, lest she do something she regret. Like tell him that she heard him. Or that she liked it.

She dresses quickly, throwing on a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt from a college club, before stripping her bed and throwing her dirty sheets, as well as the other dirty clothes she's accumulated over the course of the week, into the hamper at the foot of her bed. Since beginning to spend more time hanging out with Peeta, she had been neglecting doing the chores she was normally on top of, and her room was messier than she normally liked.

The sudden rumble of her stomach stops her in her tracks. She hasn't eaten a full meal since yesterday's lunch, and pads to the kitchen to prepare herself something. She swings the fridge open the moment the key turns in the lock.

Fuck.

She doesn't have enough time to dive into her bedroom, and comes face to face with Peeta, his hands with grocery bags.

He instantly smiles when he meets her eyes, and she can't help but return it.

Damn him.

"Hi!" he greets cheerfully, and she moves to help him unload the groceries.

"What's all this?" she mumbles, scurrying around the tiny kitchen to put the groceries away, desperately trying not to look him in the eye.

"I was going to make us pancakes this morning, but I didn't find any of the stuff I needed in the cupboards. I got kinda carried away, huh?"

The paper bags are stuffed full, containing eggs, flour, butter, things generally used to make pancakes (as far as she knows, since she can't even make grilled cheese), but also blueberries, mascarpone cheese, and other things she noticed missing from the kitchen.

"You ever made pancakes before?" His voice is muffled from his head in a cupboard, arranging some of his purchases. He's reaching up on his toes to put things into the highest cupboard, and his outstretched arms causing his t-shirt to ride up, exposing a sliver of his skin before his jeans begin.

She can feel herself go red, her gaze fixed on the container of blueberries in her hands, before coughing quickly and giving him a quick "no".

He rummages in the cupboard a bit, organizing the items in his methodical manner, before poking his head behind the door, and shooting her a playful smile.

"You wanna learn?"

Peeta never gave any indication that he knew she had heard him that night, his easygoing demeanor and the way he made her laugh so easily almost made her forget what happened. The rest of their summer living together went smoothly, a blur of incredible homemade meals, marathoning cult TV shows, free and easy interactions, interwoven with her otherwise bland work life.

During the last week of his sublet agreement, he insisted they have a little party at home, the two of them.

"To celebrate the successful conclusion of the sublet adventure. You didn't kill me and the apartment hasn't burned down. This is a cause for celebration," he told her cheekily, nudging her in the side as they sat on the couch, beers in hand after a long day at work. She rolled her eyes at him and pinched him in mock-annoyance, but couldn't help but laugh a little.

Their party isn't anything more than an incredible homemade dinner (courtesy of Peeta, although Katniss did uncork the wine bottles and chopped a carrot or two to do her part) shared in front of the TV, and the both of them dressed a little nicer than they normally would be for a night in.

They clear the dirty dishes away together, although Katniss insists that she do the majority of the work, because she isn't going to make him clean up on his last night. He goes to change into something more comfortable as she loads the dishwasher, and she follows his lead after she's done.

They laze on opposite ends of the couch, bellies full and cheeks slightly flushed from the wine they imbibed with dinner. Peeta tells her animatedly about a crazed undergrad he TAed for, a small dark-haired girl who, after receiving a B on an essay she believed she deserved an A on, threatened to ruin him after ambushing him in his office.

Katniss's sides hurt from laughing so hard. Peeta's frantic gestures and the high-pitched voice he used to emulate the girl, causing his own deep voice to crack from the strain several times, only make her laugh harder.

I'm going to miss this.

The stray thought makes her stop in her tracks, and she suddenly feels very cold and upset. Because it's true.

She really, really is going to miss him. She isn't a person who makes friends very easily, something that unfortunately hasn't gotten better with age, and feels uncomfortable around most people, especially those who she doesn't know very well. And here's Peeta, a man she's only known for two months, whose absence she knows she'll feel so deeply.

It isn't as if she wasn't looking forward to Madge coming back, because she absolutely is. She's just going to miss him.

She'll miss his laugh, his eyes that crinkled at the corners whenever he shot her a smile, his cooking and baking, how sweet he is to everyone, those arms that fill out his t-shirts and button downs so well, his voice. And the memory of that voice, of him doing that and thinking of her to help him along, that still made her clench her thighs whenever she thought about it.

"I heard you," she mumbles almost dreamily, her gaze fixated on the empty, black screen in front of them.

"Heard me say what?" he replies distractedly, looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he responds to a late email from a colleague.

Shit, shit, shit. Did she say that out loud?!

It's as if someone throws a bucket of ice water at her. She can't breathe, can't look him in the eye, because how could she be so stupid to have said that out loud? He looks at her quizzically, a confused look on his face as she gapes at him like a fish out of water.

"You okay?" he asks, concern coloring his voice, but she jerks back as he leans forward to inspect her closer.

Does she lie? She's never been able to lie worth a damn; a newborn infant would be even be able to call her out if she tried to lie.

"I, um. Heard you in your room a couple weeks ago. Late, after we, um, were hanging out," she stutters, desperately looking at anything and everything but him.

"Heard me doing what?" He's totally confused, and she can tell he's being genuine about it. He studies her for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration, when he comes to the realization and he looks more embarrassed than she thought a person could. His face goes cherry red, and she can almost see sweat beading at his hairline, when he launches into an apology.

"Oh my god," he breathes. "Katniss, I had no id—I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Fuck. Fuck. I'm so sorry. You should've told me I freaked you out, I would've found another place, shit. I swear, I'm not a perv or anything, we had been drinking and—"

Apology after apology falls from his lips and he looks genuinely distressed and disgusted with himself, and she instantly feels horrible for making him think that she was upset with him for it.

She lays a hand on his thigh, pausing him, and he's almost afraid to look at her in the eye, for fear of what she might say.

"Peeta," she starts uncertainly, and his eyes flutter shut, as if he's bracing himself for her onslaught.

He's moving out. Might as well be honest with him, to at least keep him from thinking that she hates his guts.

"I—I didn't mind," she says lightly, and he looks at her dumbly, mouth hanging slightly ajar.

"I liked it," she blurts out, looking away. She cautions a look at him, out of the corner of her eye. He looks at her as if she's grown 3 heads.

He clearly can't believe what she's said, and she squirms under his penetrative gaze. He doesn't say anything, but just looks at her, and she can't stand it.

So she does something she'd been wanting to do forever, if only to stop him from gaping at her.

His lips are slack under hers when she pushes herself forward to kiss him. She moves them against his with the slightest pressure, and when he doesn't react, she's mortified. She moves to pull away from him, when, as if he's been woken up from an embarrassment induced hypnosis, he responds enthusiastically.

He kisses her hard, wrapping his arms around her body to pull her flush against him, so she can feel his strong, solid chest against her own. He runs his tongue along the seam of her lips, probing them until she opens her mouth to him, and he dives in, touching his tongue to hers, running it along every crevice inside her mouth, and squeezing her against him. His kiss is forceful and demanding, and she matches his enthusiasm, the both of them lost in the feel of each other as she lowers him to lay on the couch before straddling his hips and kissing him again.

They stay like that what feels like an eternity, but simultaneously like no time at all, the room silent except for their gasps and quiet groans. They don't stop until she feels it, feels him hard, against the place she's wanted to feel him for so long.

Peeta breaks of the kiss with a broken breath, his face flushed and eyes wild.

"I'm sorry," he wheezes, and sits up, as if he's trying to put as much space between them as he can. "I don't want you to think I'm—"

"Shut up," she says flatly, because honestly, she's really tired of hearing him apologize when he has nothing to apologize for.

"I want this," she stresses, gesturing weakly between the two of them. "I want you, Peeta."

He just looks at her, and she rolls her eyes in frustration. How could he not tell? She was always fidgety and blushy around him, two things she never, ever was, and would never admit it, but craved his presence, especially when he wasn't around.

"I have for a while," she adds lightly, hazarding a look at him from her place against his lap.

That's all it takes for him to violently sit up and gathering her in his arms, almost running down the hallway from the living room to her bedroom. He kicks the door open, almost sending them both tumbling against the ground when he trips up on her area rug.

He lays her on the bed before pulling his shirt off, tossing it aside and scrambling back on top of her. His lips are against hers again in an instant, moving frantically, but almost slow at the same time, as if he can't contain himself but tries to savor her as well.

She runs her hands down his chest, feeling every bit of him under her fingertips, before pulling her own top and bra off, pressing her breasts against his chest and moving to remove his belt.

He pauses kissing his way down her throat at the feel of her hands on his waist, and looks her in the eye, his eyes cautious and almost nervous.

"Are you sure?" he hedges, and she would smile at his gentlemanliness if she wasn't trying to get him naked.

"Shut up," she says, pulling his jeans and boxer-briefs down in one fell swoop, before pulling her own pants off and kicking them aside.

The feel of him against her is unreal, and she breaks herself away from his lips to dig in her bedside table for a condom. Even though it's been forever, she finds one tucked away in the corner, and rips it impatiently and rolls it against him, enjoying his pitched gasp in her ear as she does so.

She flips them, positioning him at her center, and before he can say another word, sinks herself down.

And she's in heaven.

She works at him, reveling in the way his hands grip her hips as she rides him up and down, and she's quickly approaching, faster than she ever has before when she's had sex. The feel of him inside her, his left hand snaked between them, rubbing at her furiously coupled with the fact that finally, finally she has him like this is enough to set her off, and she collapses against him. He pounds into her a few more times as she kisses his neck, and he's there too, pulsing inside the condom as they clutch each other, breathless and sated.

It's quiet for a moment, neither of them speaking, just enjoying the feel of one another as their heart rates slow and steady.

"So," he starts, giving her a cheeky look. "You've wanted that forever?"

Before she can roll her eyes at him or give him a sarcastic retort, she hears a key turning in the lock of the front door, before being swung open.

"Katniss!" Madge's bubbly voice calls out throughout the small apartment. "My flight was rescheduled and I got back earlier than I thought I would. Surprise!"

Madge. Back home. As she and Peeta lay naked in her bed, her bedroom door wide open, with a perfect view of the living room and the front door.

Oh. Fuck.

:) I hope you enjoyed!