Katniss's head pounds as the morning light streams in the windows, straight through the thin skin of her eyelids. She clutches the side of her head, groaning and burrowing under the covers in an attempt to block the sun and stop the hammering behind her eyes.

Her bare skin brushes up against a body, warm and solid and she freezes. The relaxed, even breathing next to her makes her heart thump rapidly, and her head begins to hurt even more when she racks her brain for any memory of how she ended up here, and who she might be with.

She remembers being in Vegas, and being at a bar the night before with her friends. She remembers Johanna leaving to hit on a guy with enough piercings and tattoos that his own mother probably wouldn't recognize him, telling her not to wait up. She recalls Madge and Gale sneaking off one at a time with the most ridiculous excuses, as though it weren't completely obvious they were about to hook up. And Finnick ended up wrapped in the arms of a tall, willowy girl before someone finally had to tell them to get a room, which they promptly did.

That only left her and Peeta, and she'd been glad for it. Spending time with her best friend was why she agreed to come on the impromptu getaway. Work had been so busy that they hadn't had much time together lately.

Katniss rubs her eyes as the conversation plays over in her mind; from relationship woes and why they couldn't find a person they clicked with, to worst first dates and awkward experiences; all while downing drink after drink, each one burning a little less than the last.

She remembers laughing and pointing out a few girls for Peeta to hit on and he did the same for her. The guy he picked wasn't bad; reddish hair that could use a haircut, but left enough to grab onto if the sex was wild. She raised a finger towards a busty, blonde Barbie and Peeta wrinkled his brow, asking if she thought that low of him. He may hAve mentioned he preferred brunette a, and she may have fallen off her chair at some point, but what happened after that is dizzyingly unfocused, or lost altogether.

Peeking out of the covers, Katniss tries to see if she's in her own room, but it's no use since she's pretty sure all the rooms look the same. One turn of her head and her stomach lurches, from the after effects of the alcohol or the body next to her, she's not sure, but she jumps out of bed and heads straight for the bathroom.

When she's emptied everything from her stomach, she wets a rag and wipes her face, drags it across her neck to cool her heated skin. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, bewildered with what she sees.

She looks horrid - buck naked with mascara running down her cheeks, the back of her hair in a mess of tangles so frizzy it looks as though a rat could actually hide in there. Her normally olive skin is colorless and her lips look thin.

She rubs at a dull pain on the back of her shoulder, angling her arm towards the mirror when she feels the indented flesh under the pads of her fingers. The skin is slightly broken in the shape of an oval, and Katniss can tell it's a bite mark. Lower, though, she spies a dark circle at the top of her ass. She turns fully, craning her neck to get a look at what she's certain is a hickey.

"Hello?" the sleepy voice of the man she woke up with breaks her from the silent inspection. There won't be any sneaking out. She has to face this, so she wraps a towel around herself and appears in the doorway.

"Oh, shit," Peeta whispers, staring wide-eyed at her from the bed, the sheets barely containing his morning erection. Katniss isn't sure what she would have wanted to hear, but regret on her best friend's lips turns out to be pretty crushing. His hand stills its run through his bed hair, which is sexier than it should be, and she can physically feel the fear in his eyes from across the room.

Denial, she reasons quickly. That's the direction she needs to go with this. They probably didn't do anything. Just because they're naked and there are a few marks doesn't mean they had sex, right? And she can't take that look on his face anymore, because she realizes in this moment, now that she's about to lose him, why she can't make it work with anyone else. Peeta Mellark is her sunshine. The one bright spot in her otherwise crappy excuse for a life. He's been there with her through everything - her sister's death, her parents' subsequent divorce, the guilt she felt over it all. He got her through it.

She was there for him through the abusive situation in his home, the horrible breakup he went through when he found out he'd been cheated on, and the low SAT score that left him without the scholarship he needed to go to State and leave his witch of a mother behind.

But whether or not she's his rock, he is definitely hers. She can't lose him now.

"Don't look at me like that," Katniss snaps without meaning to. "We didn't do anything."

"I don't remember," he admits cautiously, confusion etched across his face as he rubs his head. "Are you sure? I would hate-"

"Yep," she cuts him off. She doesn't think she can hear that he would be disgusted over having sex with her. The relief on his face makes her certain she's doing the right thing, even if it might be a lie. They'll never know, though, if they really did. It's better this way.

Peeta tugs on the sheet, covering himself fully. "You better get dressed," he says with a strained voice, nodding at the small towel she's hugging to her bare body, a gap forming at the top of her hip and tapering out the further it falls. He averts his eyes to something on the wall, and her attention is drawn to a reddened patch of skin beneath his left earlobe, similar to the one on her backside. Did she do that?

Mortification turns to irritation when she realizes he won't make eye contact. He can't even look at me, she thinks dejectedly.

She snatches her clothes off the floor and does her best not to scowl at him. "Sorry I'm so repulsive," she whispers, the horror and hurt finally making its way to the surface, spilling over like a pot of boiling pasta left alone. But this burns deeper than just the surface.

"Katniss, that's not-"

She slams the bathroom door before he can finish, locks it and holes up in the shower trying to wash the humiliation away. She's not one hundred percent certain of what they did, but even if they didn't sleep together, they definitely crossed a the boundary of friendship.

Peeta was obviously uncomfortable, as was she, but now she can't get the image of her naked best friend out of her head nor shake off the dread that one irresponsible, drunken night may rip him from her life. She has to act normal, like everything is okay. Like it never happened.

When she's finished wallowing, she dresses quickly, then stays quiet for a few moments listening for sounds from the room. She quietly cracks the door after hearing nothing and peeks through the sliver.

Katniss isn't completely sure what she was hoping for, but her heart sinks when she realizes he's gone. She pads into the room and slumps on the bed, certain things will never be the same again.

Her cell phone rings from somewhere in the room, and she follows the sound until she finds it lodged between the bed and the nightstand. It's Madge. Probably calling to remind her about meeting up for breakfast.

"Hey, Madge, what's up?" Katniss takes a deep breath and tries to calm the high pitched tone she never uses.

"Oh my God, Katniss! Are you and Peeta together now? We've all been waiting for so long! I mean-"

"Wait… what? What are you talking about, Madge?" Katniss insists.

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" Madge mocks her. "I'm talking about you and Peeta! Last night," she pauses before asking, "doing the dirty deed?"

"What?!" Katniss shrieks. "We didn't- How do you- What are you...?" Her mind feels like sludge. The harder she tries to think, the more the words get stuck, never making it to their final destination.

"The voicemail," Madge says, as though that answers every questions Katniss has.

"What voicemail?" Katniss demands, tired of going around in circles, but terrified of what's coming. She vaguely remembers dialing on her phone last night.

"Jo played your voicemail at breakfast this morning because she wanted to gloat about winning the bet on when you two would finally get together."

There was a bet? Katniss fumes, but she'll have to deal with that later, because right now, the only thing she needs to know is what is on that voicemail.

"Madge, give me details. I neeeeed details!" she whines, but before Madge can divulge anything, a steady knock sounds at the door. "Hold on," Katniss tells her friend, pressing the phone to her chest. She swings the door open and immediately feels the same crushing weight of guilt and loss she sees on Peeta's face.

He holds a cell phone that doesn't belong to him in his hand, and his lips form a tight line while his eyes glance between her and the floor. "We need to talk." His tone is grim and Katniss's stomach starts to feel like an angry hornet's nest.

"I'll call you back," Katniss says evenly, shutting the phone off without giving Madge a chance to reply. She doesn't need to because she knows she's about to hear it from her best friend. Correction - former best friend.

Peeta steps through the door, grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge and hands it to her with some aspirin and the words, "You're going to need this." Katniss's insides are so wrought with tension she doesn't think she can stomach even the little bit of water it would take to get the pills down, so she sets them on the bar before she turns to fully face him. Face whatever it is.

"Will you... sit with me?" Peeta asks as he motions toward the small lounge, waiting for her to sit before he does. She perches gingerly on the edge of the sofa, and he rests across from her atop the coffee table. Their knees almost touch, and her eyes fixate on the way his hands slide up and down his thighs nervously. She can't look at him, but if she could she would see that he can't look at her, either.

"I-" Peeta starts, then stops abruptly. That one syllable is shaky enough with regret that any hope she'd held onto for the last hour falls straight to the ground like a lead balloon. He clears his throat and starts again. "Katniss, you're my best friend, a-and I don't want to lose you. But, you have to know that-" he blows out a deep breath as he prepares to say the words he cannot take back. "We had sex last night. Apparently you called Jo to check in with her right before and left her a voicemail. You… Told her you were with me and not to worry, then forgot to, um, disconnect the call. The whole thing, or a lot of it at least, was recorded."

He fidgets for a moment, then hesitantly takes her limp hand in his. "Katniss, it's not what I intended, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you."

Her eyes finally meet his, and the hope in his eyes matches the hope that lay in jagged shards on the floor of her heart - it's there, but in pieces. He's scared. She's scared.

"I'm sorry, Peeta!" she blurts out, burying her face in her hands to hide the tears about to push their way out no matter how hard she tries to keep them locked up. She is sorry. Sorry for being so irresponsible and putting them in this situation. Sorry for feeling more than she should for him. Sorry for letting him down because she's not sure she can get over this.

Mostly, she's sorry that she doesn't remember what the caress of his lips felt like on hers, or the heat of his hands on her bare skin. She chokes back a sob because she doesn't remember the way he felt moving inside her. Couldn't recall if he enjoyed himself, if his face contorted in bliss when he came. If his feelings mirrored hers and if he hugged her tightly to himself, whispering them in her ear as false apologies after they collapsed in a heap of sated limbs.

"I'm sorry, Katniss." That this didn't happen sooner.

"Forgive me, Katniss." I'm in love with you.

Her imagination races with all the things that could have happened, but nothing is tangible. There's nothing to hold onto, and the one thing in her life that is constant, and dependable, and right in front of her seems to be slipping through her fingers. She tries, and fails, at stifling the next round of panicked tears.

"Hey, hey," Peeta says, squeezing her knee and shushing her with soft words about how they'll make it through this. That their bond is thicker than a one night stand between friends. How does she tell him that, yeah, it was a mistake, but one she'd gladly make again?

"Do you remember anything?" he echoes the thoughts in her mind. She shakes her head again. "Me, either. Do you... want to listen to the voicemail?" he asks tentatively, running his hands soothingly up and down her arms.

Katniss shakes her head, whispering, "I don't think I can." She pulls at the hem of her camisole, not caring that the threads are beginning to unravel. It's inconsequential to the unraveling of her life.

Peeta moves beside her on the couch, pulling her snug into his body. It makes her feel safe, warm, loved. She never wants to leave his arms.

They sit like that for what seems like hours. Katniss sniffling, Peeta rocking her. She thought his lips skated across her temple once or twice, but she couldn't be sure. And she couldn't think that way, not when her best friend was so torn up about being with her.

She chastises herself inwardly. Here she is thinking only about herself, what she's lost and how she feels, not even considering what Peeta must be going through. He may lose his best friend, too.

Katniss sits up and wipes her face decisively. Determined to do something besides sulk. "Are you okay?" she asks tentatively.

His eyes search her face, the blue so soft she feels the comfort in them, like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold day. He breathes deeply through his nose. The kind of breath that cleanses and calms, and makes his sturdy chest rise and fall.

"You know what upsets me?"

No. This isn't what she wants to hear. She can't listen to him tell her how disgusted he is with himself. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," he admits, soft but firm as his gaze bores into hers. "But you have to promise you won't run away. Alright?" Katniss wants to scoff at his prediction, profess that he doesn't know her at all. But even as she thinks it she knows he's right. That he knows her better than she knows herself. Oh, how she's going to miss him.

"Katniss we've shared almost everything. We got braces at the same time, our driver's licenses together. Tried our first beers at the same party, smoked our first cigarette in your backyard."

Katniss tries to smile through tears slipping quietly down her cheeks, remembering how the smoke scalded going down and how Peeta choked and coughed, and even cried a little, making her promise never to tell a soul.

"We went to prom together, graduated together, got ourselves through some heavy shit. We were always there for each other, no matter what. And what I regret most is that..." he looks at her, and she can see he's deciding whether or not to go on. Part of her wants to shut him up, block the pain his words are sure to inflict. Another part of her wants to drag the words out already, rip the bandaid off. She braces herself, knows this is going to hurt.

"... I don't remember my first time with you."

The statement hangs heavy between them, and Katniss doesn't know how to respond. But she doesn't have to, yet.

"You see, Katniss," he rakes a hand through his hair. He barks out a manic laugh and looks to the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm risking everything here, but, we've come this far, so," he shrugs and breathes deep again. "I've wanted you - loved you - for a while. Years, actually.

"At first, I let myself believe something could happen between us one day. But, about two years into it I realized it was a pipe dream. We were best friends and I accepted the fact that's all we would ever be. I wasn't willing to mess it up over what I told myself was just an infatuation. But now," he sighs heavily, "now that I could lose you I can finally admit to you what I've kept buried -I'm in love with you, Katniss. And now that we've been together I can't remember if your skin tasted salty or sweet..."

She stares at him, disbelieving the sweet words she's hearing. But he tells her more, and the earnestness of his words leaves her no choice but to believe.

"...if your lips really do feel like heaven against mine like I've imagined so many times. If you shouted my name into the darkness when you came, or even if you came at all… It kills me, Katniss. We've shared almost everything, and I remember every. tiny. detail," he punctuates each word with a frustrated slap to his denim-clad thigh, "of our friendship."

He sighs and falls back into the couch cushions, defeated. "To know that we did that, and I'll never be able to recall it…" He trails off, staring at his hands, letting the quiet finish his thought. It's loud and clear, and she knows exactly how he feels.

Her sluggish heart beats to life again, gaining confidence with every one of his words that lodge themselves inside it. He wants to remember. Has he really always wanted this? She thinks deep down that she has, even though she's only just recognizing it, and the flutter she feels deep in her belly lifts her eyes to his as it drifts through her chest, spreading into her limbs, making her feel heady with promise.

Moments pass, feels like hours, thoughts of why he never said anything come and go, but they're not what she says. What she says changes everything.

"It doesn't have to be the last time."

Peeta whips his gaze to hers. "What?"

"It doesn't have to be the last time," Katniss repeats.

"You mean, you… you would... y-you want me?" he asks hesitantly. Katniss gives him the smallest of nods, so faint if his eyes weren't bearing down on every feature he might have missed it. When he speaks again his voice is like gravel, barely in control of his emotions. "It would be so much more than sex for me, Katniss. It can't be any other way. I'd rather have you as a friend forever than a fling, no matter how meaningful. Do you understand?"

"It would be more than sex for me, too, Peeta. I think… this would have happened anyway." She pauses, swallowing, searching for the right words, finally settling on the only sentiment that feels right. "I'm in love with you, too."

A grin creeps up on Peeta's lips, falling and resurfacing a few times as if he can't decide whether it's real or not. Hers does not falter, though, and with every quirk of his lips her smile widens until her cheeks hurt and she barks out a laugh, slapping a hand over her mouth as the sorrowful tears are replaced by joyful ones.

He finally allows the suppressed smile to fully take over, and just like that the sunshine is back, raining its warmth down on her. Peeta's arms are around her waist before she can think, and her chest is pressed against his as he nuzzles his nose into her neck, breathing deeply. The heat of his exhale drifts across her skin, prompting gooseflesh to rise and she winds her arms around his neck, tightening their hold, fingers dipping into his hair.

He pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead to hers, his hand cradles her jaw while his thumb gently caresses her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" he whispers.

Katniss nods against him, smiling shyly, thinking how sweet he is to ask even after all they've done.

It seems like too long for the short distance between them, but he steals her breath away with just the faintest touch of his lips, and Katniss almost cries in relief that she'll remember this. The way her heart pitter-patters at his nearness and her belly flops at the sweet way his fingers curl into the hair at the base of her neck. The tender way he tilts her head and presses his lips more firmly to hers. The feel of his tongue as it glides across her bottom lip just before she allows the entrance he seeks. Sighs of reprieve skating across cheeks, and moans of approval dancing between them.

It's the perfect kiss. And the best part is, she'll never forget it.