Originally written for Round 8 of Prompts in Panem. I posted Part 1 on Day 2 (Other Worlds - Contemporary) and Part 2 on Day 4 (7 Deadly Sins - Lust).

This is unbetad and English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes. Enjoy!

Part One

I stand in front of my wardrobe only in my underwear, hands on my waist and concentrated eyes to find something to wear. I just tossed my third change of clothes on my bed and now I honestly think that they all decided to rebel against me, because nothing seems to fit right.

"Still fighting with your wardrobe, Brainless?" Johanna asks, showing up on my door unannounced.

"Shut up, Jo," I reply, sending her a death glare. I'm still mad at her for implying things that are not real, which is what got me in this mess in the first place.

She laughs at me, entering on my bedroom without an invitation. "Can't find something cute to wear on your date?"

"It's not a date!" I say for what seems to be the millionth time tonight.

"Then why are you so worried about your clothes, anyway? In any other day, you'd be showing up in pajamas." She asks.

Because what if it is a date? Then wouldn't it be rude for me to show only on my pj? Wouldn't it be inconsiderate to Peeta's feelings? I mean, if it is a date, he probably planned something for us, and it would be incredibly impolite of me to not act like we're on a date, right? Not that I actually hope it's a date. Or even think it's a date, for that matter.

But what if it is?

I don't say any of this to Johanna, though. I only send another death glare her way.

She sighs, looking frustrated. "Okay. Look, that Mellark boy? He's crazy for you. I mean, you could show up dressed in a crocodile costume and he'd want to bang you."

I scoff at her. Peeta Mellark crazy for me. Peeta Mellark wanting to bang me. As if!

Peeta Mellark is definitely not crazy for me and definitely does not want to bang me. Peeta Mellark is my best friend. He's been my best friend for three years, since the first day of college. And a very good friend, I might add. He probably views me as his little sister or something.

Besides, he has a line of other girls fighting against one another to get a date with him. It's not like he's going to pay attention to me, plain old Katniss, someone he considers a friend and nothing else. This whole situation is crazy, to be honest.

"You're delusional," I tell Johanna, shifting through a drawer with my hands to find my favorite shorts.

"If I am so delusional, why are you so damn worried about it?"

"I'm not!" I exclaim, finding the cut-off shorts and passing my legs through the holes. I give a small hop to make it go through my butt. "See? I'm already putting on clothes."

When I finish locking the front button and zippering it up, I notice Johanna staring at me.

"What?" I ask, my tone accusing.

She bites the corner of her lip before replying. "I know you don't want any suggestions, but If I may… I think you should wear that blue sundress."

I cock my head to the side. "What? Why?"

"Well, for one, it hugs your body perfectly. And, also, it would make it easier for you to sit on him."

"Johanna!" I shout, tossing my pillow at her as she starts to crack up in laughter. "Get out! Now!" I point my forefinger at the door.

"God, you're such a prude!" She chortles, putting my pillow back on my bed and falling on it. "I'm just saying… Better be prepared."

"Jesus, you're so out of line here!" I say, starting to rummage through my clothes again.

"Come on, Brainless, you are the only one oblivious to the way that boy looks at you. It's written all over his face how much he want you."

I find one of my favorites t-shirts on my bottom drawer and pull it out before turning on my heels to look at her. "Even if he does, which I'm positive it's not the case, it's not like I feel the same way."

She quirks an eyebrow up. "Are you sure about that?"

I put the shirt on and turn to look at myself in the mirror. "Positive."

She comes to stand behind me, eyeing my reflection as she talks, "Then why you just put basically the only shirt you own that shows your cleavage?"

I feel my cheeks burning when I realize what she's saying is true. "I don't know what you are talking about," I deflect, walking to my dressing table to comb my hair.

What if I am dressing up like it's a date? Maybe I do want it to be a date. What is the big deal about that, anyway? It's not like it's her business.

"Hair down?" Jo inquires when I start putting on my black pearl earrings (the ones that Peeta gave me last Christmas and I almost didn't accept) and my watch.

I shrug, walking to the foot of my bed to put my flip-flops. "I don't feel like braiding it today."

"Sure," she exhales. "Are you still going to deny this is a date?"

"Yeap," I say, moving to my bedside table to catch my phone, my keys, my credit card and some cash. "I'm going now."

I walk past her and through my door, then stride along our common room. Just as I'm opening our dorm room to the hallway she stops me.

"Katniss, wait up!" She calls, coming out of my bedroom and into her room. A moment later she's in front of me, arm stretching forward with a condom on her hand. "Don't forget to be safe."

I have to shut the door closed between us to restrain me from punching her right on the face.

As I walk through campus to get to Peeta's building, I open our texting history to search for any sign of second intentions from his part for tonight.

Peeta (sent 6:07 p.m.): Hey, what are your plans for tonight?

Me (sent 6:10 p.m.): Nothing, really. Thinking 'bout going to bed early. You?

Peeta (sent 6:12 p.m.): The boys are going out, but I'm not in the mood.

Peeta (sent 6:15 p.m.): Want to come over to watch Netflix and chill?

Me (sent 6:16 p.m.): Idk, my bed is too comfortable.

Peeta (sent 6:18 p.m.): I have beer and I'll order pizza.

Me (sent 6:18 p.m.): Be there in 20.

I rake through it five times, but I can't find exactly where something's supposed to be implied and my mind is so confused that I want to run back to my dorm and never leave my bed.

Then I remember telling Jo about my plans tonight, how she laughed at me and pulled up the urban dictionary definition for "Netflix and chill".

It said, "It means that you are going to go over to your partner's house and fuck with Netflix in the background."

I blushed so much, in a state of profound and deep embarrassment, that I almost threw the phone on her head. Probably got as beet red as I am right now, standing in front of Peeta's building with all this inappropriate thoughts running through my head. I feel so ashamed that I actually consider the idea of coming back all the way to my dorm as a serious one.

I'm just about to drop him a text saying I'll stay home when one from him lights up on my phone screen.

Peeta (sent 6:49 p.m.): You coming? The pizza just arrived.

Great. After he went on all of the trouble of ordering a pizza and it's already here, I can't flee.

I type a quick text to him saying I'm coming up before I slide my college ID on the card reader and the gate opens. I bump into the delivery pizza guy as I go up the stairs to Peeta's 2nd floor dorm. I have to take calming steadying breaths before knocking on his door.

"Hey!" He greets me when he opens the door, with the same attitude as always and a big smile plastered on his face.

"Hi," I whisper shyly, stepping inside and closing the door when he backs away and plumps down on his sofa. He looks normal, normal enough that it eases down my nerves a bit. "I'm sorry for being late."

He dismisses my words with a wave of his hand and grabs the TV remote with the other, shuffling through the options on Netflix. "Nah, you got here just in time."

"Great," I say, still trying to manage my embarrassment as I sit down next to him. I'm suddenly extremely conscious about his two seat couch, how it's shaped in a way that make us close, more than necessary. I shift closer to the armrest, avoiding contact with him, but his right knee still touches my left thigh and the skin located there burns.

God, this night is going to be awful.

"Okay," Peeta says, distracting me from my internal struggle and pointing to the pizza box at the coffee table. "I got half cheesy beef poutine and half cherry pepper bombshell. Those are your favorites, right?"

"Oh my gawd," I half-say half-moan, aiming for the pizza box and grabbing a delicious greasy slice of cheesy beef. "I could seriously kiss you right now."

As soon as the words leave my lips, I freeze, the pizza slice halfway up to my mouth. Did I really said that? Oh my god, I can't believe I said that. Not on our could-be-date. Fuck. I'm an idiot.

I stare at Peeta in shock, my mouth still slack from the surprise my own words caused me, waiting for him to say something flirtatious or teasing, but he just shrugs it off with a chuckle and takes a slice for himself. "Let's just say you owe me one."

I owe him one? What does that even mean?

Argh, this night didn't even started and I'm already with a headache from trying to find meaning in the little actions and things he says. I can't keep up with this anymore. I'm sure I'd be better off sleeping on my room. Would it be rude to leave now? Maybe I can fake a stomach ache.

"What you want to watch?" Peeta asks, pulling me to reality one more time, the TV remote on his hand.

I look at him and take a bite of my pizza before replying, "I'm fine with anything you want to watch."

"Hm, I actually didn't catch up with House of Cards since finals. Would you mind watching it again?"

"Please!" I exclaim. "We have to fix that heresy right now. And I have to talk to someone about what happened last season."

He laughs at me and clicks on the show under the "keep watching" tab on the screen. "So, you really don't mind re-watching? I was just going to start episode nine."

"Not at all! I love me some Claire Underwood."

"Someone has a girl crush, huh?" He whispers as he hits play and settles on his seat, and his knee connects with more of my skin.

"Something like that," I say, teasing back, and see his eyes sparkle with curiosity before focusing my gaze on the TV.

We fall silent as the episode starts, and my eyes open wide when I hear the sound of moans mixed with the soundtrack coming from the TV. A few seconds later, Kate Baldwin shows up riding Thomas Yates, her head going back as she comes, a last moan leaving her mouth. I wince, gulping down the pizza that's on my mouth dryly. Because of course the episode we're watching would start with a sex scene in my maybe-a-date-maybe-not with Peeta. Of course. I'm lucky that way.

I avert my eyes from the screen and pick at a french fry from my pizza to distract me from what just happened. Peeta seems unfazed by it, but one look in my direction and he would see the flush on my cheeks and notice that there's something wrong.

So I continue to bite into my slice, intending to be an almost imperceptible company when the scene changes to Frank Underwood talking about the American Dream and AmWorks. Good. Much safer territory.

Peeta keeps his eyes on the screen as he reaches out to the pizza box, bringing it to his lap and grabbing another slice for him and one for me. I shove the rest of my first slice on my mouth and take the one he's offering, now a cherry pepper one. Our hands brush on the exchange and I feel the electricity running from my fingers to my whole body, hitting all of my limbs, and the blush peeks up on my face again. But Peeta keeps his gaze glued to the screen and I sigh as I take a bite on my new slice, relaxing again.

Through the whole episode, things like that happens. Our hands meet again when we both go for another slice of pizza. He rearranges himself on the couch making our arms brush. I prop my feet up on the coffee table and his leg touches the skin behind my knee. He drops his head closer to my ear to whisper something about the scene happening. I try to clean the pizza crumbles from my lap and end up grazing his thigh with my left hand. He scratches something on his elbow and his knuckles rub my arm. After every touch, I try to let myself loose and stop overanalyzing things, but then another touch happens, and I'm back where I started.

I don't know what's happening. I don't know it this is new, if all this contact is flirting, if it means something, or if it's normal for us, and I'm just conscious about all of this since Johanna implicated sex would be in Peeta's mind tonight. I don't even know if all of my actions are unconscious or if I'm doing this to increase the proximity between us, to actually show some interest towards Peeta. But all of these touches made me alive with electricity and combined with the inadequate sex pondering going through my mind resulted on a throbbing on my center.

So when episode nine ends and Peeta offers me a beer, I more than eagerly accept it. After all, I need something to help me calm my nerves. He makes his way around the couch to go to the kitchen, pizza box in hand, probably intending to throw it off. When he comes back, though, he chooses to jump my stretched out legs instead of rounding the sofa, and I have to bite my bottom lip because the brief connection between his knee and the side of my thigh almost makes me moan. He falls on his seat and hands me my beer, already with the cap off, and I take it and move it to my mouth directly. I take a good sip, and the cool liquid effectively relaxes my dry throat and softens my bloom a little.

"You want to watch another one?" Peeta asks, already clicking on the next episode.

I nod, because I don't think I'm able to form words right now, and take another gulp from my beer. And I really don't mind watching another episode with Peeta, but the truth is that I can't concentrate on Frank bullshiting his way through electors' questions and on Claire's negotiations about the peace keeping mission on the Jordan Valley or even on Jackie and Remy's sexual tension because I'm too focused on my own sexual tension with Peeta. He's bouncing his leg rhythmically, and every time it goes up it hits my thigh, and I'm starting to think he's doing it on purpose. Especially when he stretches and drapes his arm over the back of my seat, his forearm touching the nape of my neck. That's got to be the oldest trick on the book.

And that's when I realize: Johanna was right.

Without even noticing what I'm doing, I remove my feet from the coffee table and sit up straight, turning myself on Peeta's direction and catching the remote from his belly. He looks at me surprised as I pause the show and glare at him. But nothing beats his wide-eyed expression when he hears my question, "Peeta, did you ask me to come over to fuck me?"

He freezes, his blue eyes practically sticking out of his face, looking at me like I'm the most bizarre creature in this world. Then, he talks, "I- I- I would never… I mean, how do you kn… I didn't- What?"

The stammering and expression on his face are enough to let me know I'm right and I sigh, burying my face on my hands, because although he did make me all hot and bothered, I don't know what the hell to do with this new piece of information. And, honestly, I'm a little bit disappointed, because I expected better from Peeta. "Oh my god. You did! This is all a scheme because you want to fuck me!"

"No!" He's quick to protest, lowering my hands with his until they rest on my lap. "I mean- Kinda."

"Peeta!" I yell in horror and he squeezes my hands, like he wants to stop me before I even have the idea to leave.

"Okay, just- Just let me explain, alright?" He asks with pleading eyes, tightening his grip on my hands once more. Before I have the chance to agree, he starts to ramble, his hands moving around him while he talks, "Look, I've had this crush on you since forever, okay? And by forever I mean literally from the first time I saw you on campus, and I just- Ugh, I just can't get over it. And I'm happy being your friend, but I thought that I could at least try, you know? I got tired of being called a coward by Finnick and then he came up with this idea and it seemed innocent enough at the time, but now I'm thinking that it wasn't and that I just creeped you and I am so sorry, Katniss. And I completely understand if you want to leave, but please don't. I want to still be your friend and-"

His voice halts when I lift my hand up to make him stop. He looks like a lost puppy, breathless and uneasy, and the way he's talking is not making any sense. "Okay, stop and breathe," I command. We inhale and exhale together in a couple calming breaths and I can see the panic dying down on his eyes. "Now, back up on the story. Finnick came up with the idea?"

"Yes, he did," he replies. "That's when I sent you the text."

One of my eyebrows lifts up. "The Netflix and chill text?"

He blushes deeply and drops his head. "Yes, that one."

"And what exactly did you expect it would happen, Peeta?" I ask in a more accusatory voice.

"Nothing!" He says, and I give him my best "don't bullshit me, Mellark" look. "I mean it. It was just an opportunity for us to be alone and I was planning to tell you everything about my feelings and just see what would happen from there."

I cross my arms in front of my chest. "So you didn't even consider sex as a possibility?"

"Arrrrrgh," he groans, frustrated, looking up at the ceiling. "You don't understand it."

"Then explain it to me!"

He inhales and exhales again before looking at me. "Okay. Katniss, sex with you? I couldn't think of anything more fantastic to happen to me. And I'm not going to lie and tell you that I didn't entertain the idea of that happening tonight, because I did. A lot." He stops for a moment, gathering himself, and reaches for my hands again. "I mean, I came into it with a lot of hope, but I'd never expect to anything actually happening. To be honest, I was prepared to be rejected, and if that's how you feel, I'm not going to hold it against you. I meant it when I said I would be fine just being your friend."

I feel the honesty on his words, but I can't help it to make sure one more time. "Okay, but the very concept of your text, Peeta-"

"I know," he sighs, interrupting me. "But, again, that was Finnick's idea. I'm the one to blame, of course, because I sent the text, but I was just going with his flow, you know? The important things is: I never expected anything when you agreed to come here. I need you to believe this."

I stare at his blue eyes, full of remorse for ever making me think he'd want me here for just sex, and all the suspicion fades away. It's Peeta, after all. He's the most kind human being I've ever known, and I'm sure he wouldn't do this to a girl. Specially me. "Okay," I say. "I believe you."

"Great." He smiles, bright and boyish, and all the pain on his eyes from a second before disappears. "Then that bring us to my question."

"What question?"

"Did you come over here just to fuck?"

It's my time to stutter. "I don't- I- I- What?" I look at him in confusion, but he's just smirking at me. And that really irritates the fucking hell out of me. "Peeta! You just said you didn't expect sex when I agree to come over."

"I didn't. But then you got here," he replies, like he just discovered the cure for a terrible disease, and gives me a sly smile.

"And what do you mean by that?" I'm forced to ask.

"Well, for starters, you are all flustered and nervous," he begins. I open my mouth to object, but he keeps talking besides my complains. "And don't even try to act like you didn't initiate some of those touches, Everdeen!"

I'm rendered speechless for a moment, just looking at Peeta and assimilating his words. Because I did initiate some of those touches. Not only that, but I came to Peeta's dorm knowing the obscure meaning on his text. I scrutinized his every action and contemplated what it meant, just to have the proper response to it. I created opportunities to get closer to him – and him to me – and never backed away when our bodies touched. Damn, I practically moaned one time our skins brushed. And then I blatantly asked him if he wanted to have sex with me. I did all of that.

So, instead of replying Peeta with words, I lean in and kiss him full on the mouth.