Author's Note: Hi guys! Chapter 11 is coming along soon, but I couldn't help writing this oneshot in the meantime. Takes place between chapters 3 and 4 of A House United.

One afternoon, all the girls in the neighborhood fill up our old sitting room. It was Mama's idea, as part of her plan to help train me to be a better wife for Gale. All good Southern women must know how to be a proper hostess. It seems like the worst possible use of time to me - I would much rather be out in the woods hunting or gathering, somewhere that's more natural for me. But since neither of those things are very becoming of a lady, here I am at Mama's insistence.

The hours seem to stretch on. Somehow we managed to put together enough food to provide finger sandwiches as the group engages in idle chat about anything and everything they've heard, from the smallest piece of news from the homefront, to stories we've heard about the goings on in Washington.

Of course, there's the regular chat, still, too.

"So, Katniss," a blonde girl named Glimmer asks at last. "When will your wedding be?"

"March, I believe," I say, offering what I hope is my best smile.

"What will you be wearing?" another girl with red hair and a face that reminds me of a fox asks.

"Something nice," I say vaguely. Most of us are without money these days, but it still isn't something anyone wants to own up to. And Mama has decided, come hell or high water, she will put me in something nice on the day of my wedding. I just wonder if she'll feel the same when she finds out I've changed my mind about the bridegroom.

"You've known Gale for years," she notes.

"That's right," I nod politely.

"Gale will make a fine husband," Madge Undersee says quietly. "You must be proud."

This time, I'm not sure how to respond, considering the circumstances. It's true, Gale is everything a young Southern woman looks for in a husband. But he isn't what I want. "He's been a good friend," I say, before falling quiet. Fortunately, the conversation drifts from my wedding, to another girl's, before finally turning into gossip on the young men they find handsome in general.

It's the sound of a heavy tread coming down the hallway that casts a hush on the group; even more so when the source reveals itself. It's Peeta, and every eye in the room is turned toward him as the girls nervously take him in in his blue Union uniform. Sensing the general stillness in the air, Peeta turns and smiles nervously at us.

"Afternoon, ladies," he says.

This seems to set a few off, because there's a rustling in the group, but Glimmer boldly answers. "Good afternoon, Mr. Mellark."

"I hope I'm not disturbing your party," he says. Then he catches my eye. "I'll just be heading out to the carriage house to fix that broken spoke, Miss Everdeen," he tells me.

"All right," I say as I nod curtly and bite my lip to keep the smile at bay that's threatening to spread across my face. I can see a similar expression in Peeta's sparkling eyes as he nods and excuses himself.

The entire group is silent as we listen to his footsteps die down. Finally, one girl looks around the room, and takes a deep breath before she speaks. "My daddy would skin me alive for even looking at a Yankee," she says with a sly smile. "...but it might be worth it for the blond one."

"Peeta?" another girl asks, and as she nods in confirmation, the room erupts in giggles.

"He is handsome," another agrees, and the rest nod eagerly.

"And kind, too! You would never know he was from the North if it weren't for the uniform!" Foxface adds.

Sounds of agreement rise from the group. "He helped carry supplies for my Ma the other day," one girl says. "She's been widowed since the war, and hasn't had anyone to help her!"

"He helped mend our fence the other day!" another girl offers.

"He cut down some branches for my Pa!" pipes up another voice.

"He removed his shirt while chopping wood at our place!" a girl says, and the room quiets in a temporary lull as the other girls look at her in surprise. But it doesn't last long.

"He did that our place, too," says another girl.

"And ours!" chimes in another one.

"Ours too!"

"He asked me to the big party!"

"He kissed me two days ago!" Everyone stares at this girl; I must be shooting daggers myself. She had better be fibbing. "Just on the cheek," she quickly adds when she sees her story hasn't quite been welcomed in the way she hoped.

Then another voice distracts them."Katniss lives with him!" And like that, every eye in the room is turned towards me.

"What's it like living with him, Katniss?"

"Have you washed his clothes?" A girl asks, then covers her face as though she can't believe the question escaped. As if emboldened by the question, the other girls begin to murmur.

"Have you ever been in his quarters to clean?"

"Have you ever been tempted to watch him through the keyhole when he's taking a wash?" Glimmer asks, and every girl in the room giggles at her naughty question.

"Look how red she is!" someone says. And it's true, I can feel the blush that must be coloring my cheeks. But it isn't for the reason they think it is.

"Katniss is so pure," someone says.

"I am not!" I snap, finally losing patience.

"Oh? Then you've noticed the handsome man living right under your own roof, then?"

Noticed him? I've felt him; tasted him. I know what he's like when he sleeps. I know the security of having his arms wrapped around me when I sleep. And the things I have no business knowing, like the image of his strong body underneath that blue uniform he wears. If anything is making me blush, it's that this conversation reminds me of the night we shared our bodies with each other. Notice him? I've privately promised my entire future to him.

Or, at least I had. If any of these girls' stories about him kissing them turn out to be true, however, I may be taking that promise back.

When I don't answer, the group titters. "Pure Katniss," someone says. "I'll bet it never even occurred to her to look at Peeta that way. Or any man, for that matter."

"Well, she'd better get used to the idea," Glimmer says. "She'll be seeing Gale that way soon enough." The comment only makes me smolder more, which in turn makes the girls laugh harder at me. I bite my lip to keep from shooting something even worse back, something that would give Peeta and me away completely. And it works, fortunately. Eventually the subject drifts away and we finish the afternoon with no more inquiries on my feelings for the man I'm hiding my feelings for.

After I've bid farewell to the last of the girls for the day, I decide to take a little trip down to the carriage house myself. Inside, Peeta is still at work on replacing that spoke. His back is turned towards me, so he has to glance over his shoulder to see who's come in. He brightens when he realizes it's me. "Hello," he greets me, flashing a quick smile. "How was your party?" When I don't respond, he finally turns around to face me full on, taking me in with a frown. "What are you so flustered about?" he asks.

I stare at him for a minute before I respond. "We were talking about you this afternoon..."

Peeta cocks his head. "Oh?" I nod, but don't continue. "And what did you decide?" he asks.

"They say you've been helping folks around the neighborhood."

"I have," he nods, looking interested in whatever direction this conversation may take.

"They say you helped carry supplies for widows." Peeta nods. "And cut down branches for a family." Another nod. "And mended a few fences." Nod. "And that you've chopped wood for quite a few families." Peeta nods again. "With your shirt off."

At this, I have Peeta's attention. He doesn't nod, but when he looks at me, an amused grin spreads across his face. "Well, it's been warm, Katniss," he says.

"It has not!" I glare at him.

He's still smiling, but doesn't answer. "What else have I been doing?" he asks instead.

"Asking girls to parties. Trying to court them."

"Well, I don't seem to recall hearing about any parties being held around here. I'm not sure I'd be very welcome at them, even if there were," he muses.

"Did you kiss Auricula Lapworth?" I finally ask point blank.

Peeta just gives me a quizzical look. "Who?"

"You don't even remember her name?" I bristle.

He gives me a concerned glance. "I don't remember her name because I haven't kissed her. I haven't kissed anybody, except for you."

"Then why were they all saying you had?" I demand, really growing frustrated now.

"I don't know!" he responds, matching my frustration with his own growing agitation. "No one around here will even speak to me, besides the other Union soldiers and you. How should I know why they suddenly hold an interest in me? I assume you haven't told them about us." I shake my head. "Then I don't know what's come over them."

"You're too nice to them," I counter.

"Too nice?" he repeats. "I'm just trying to do the right thing by helping your neighbors." He studies me a moment before that amused look returns. "Katniss... are you jealous?"

I frown at him before looking away. "They think you're handsome," I say quietly.

I hear him chuckle. "Well, I'm not going to complain about that."

"They asked me what it's like to live with you," I press on.

"And what did you tell them?"

"That you're a pain," I say in a matter-of-fact voice. "And that I can't stand being around you."

"Trying to turn interest away, huh?" Peeta says. I try to fight the way the corners of my mouth lift up. I glance over at him, watching him in silence for a minute. Then, quietly, I say, "They asked if I've ever been tempted to watch you wash through the keyhole."

Peeta looks at me slowly, one eyebrow raised raised as he tries unsuccessfully to maintain a serious expression. "Well? How 'bout it, Miss Everdeen?"

I can feel my cheeks grow hot, and wonder just how red they must be. "I'm not looking through keyholes," I mumble. Peeta just laughs.

"I don't mind if you are," he says.

"I'm sure you don't," I shoot back. "But how do I know you're not inviting others in to see you as well?"

"Katniss," he says evenly, "I don't make a habit of convincing unmarried girls to give me their innocence. I've only done that on one occasion, when one maddening young lady made me fall so hard for her, I evidently lost my mind."

Should I be angry or flattered? I'm not sure. Even so, I find a smile creeping back onto my face. "So it was just gossip?"

"It was just gossip, Katniss," he confirms as he leans back over the wagon wheel. "I haven't touched anybody in this neighborhood except for you." He looks up at me and waggles his eyebrows. "But I'd be happy to do that again, if you're so desperate to see me that you're spying through keyholes."

My cheeks grow warm again. "I'm not..."

"You could just come in, you know. You think I'm going to object if you join me in the tub?"

"Peeta!" I snap my head back up at him in shock, but he's just laughing at me. By now, he's stopped his task and has crossed over so that he's standing directly in front of me. He places his hands on my shoulders.

"I'm teasing, Katniss. You know, you're kind of squeamish for a someone who's seen me without a stitch of clothing."

"And you're kind of mean for someone who says he wants to marry me," I say back.

Peeta feigns confusion. "So now I'm mean? A moment ago, I thought I was too nice."

"To others. You're mean to me."

He tries not to smile. "Well, it's not my fault you're so endearing when you're flustered. I don't know if I should thank or curse those girls for sending you to me in this state."

"They think you're handsome, you know" I say.

Peeta smiles down at me. "And what about you, Miss Everdeen? Do you find me handsome?"

I feel that warmth return to my cheeks and drop my gaze. "I... Um, I... "

Peeta laughs, and gently lifts my chin so that I'm forced to look him in the eye again. "You should see how hard you're blushing," he says with a smile. "I take it that's a 'yes.'"

I give him a bashful smile as he leans in. "I think you're nice," I say just as he's about to press his lips against mine.

"I'm very nice," he murmurs as he kisses me. "But don't think I don't know the truth. You're just keeping me around so you can spy on me through keyholes."

I have to smile, despite myself. "Well, is it my fault you're so handsome?"

"I suppose not," he says and gives me another kiss. "It's your fault you're all I can think about, though."

"Really?" I ask, and draw my head back to look at him. He chuckles quietly and pulls me back to him so our lips graze against each other as he talks.

"Yes. All those times I spend mending fences and carrying supplies. Or taking my shirt off while I'm chopping wood." Even though he says it with a straight face, I laugh, which in turn causes him to break his dry demeanor with a smile. "I took off my shirt because I was thinking about you, you see. That's why I'm glad to hear you've been looking."

"Why don't you take it off here, then?" I'm teasing, but Peeta begins unbuttoning the buckles on his jacket, and hangs it over the side of the buggy. He grabs my hands and pulls them up to his waist. They lay pressed flat against him, held firmly in place by his hands. I can feel the hard muscle underneath his warm wool undershirt. When his hands fall away a moment later, my fingers curl into the fabric.

In the meantime, Peeta's hands snake around my own waist and press against the small of my back, pushing me flush against him as he kisses me deeply. His lips move to my neck, the warm feeling of his breath against my skin slowly spreading throughout my body, and as I inhale sharply, my fingers creep between the buttons on his shirt. A visible shiver runs through him as the pads of my fingers make contact with the skin of his stomach. Peeta's warm, steady body feels so good pressed against my own. Impossibly good.

"Stop!" I say, and abruptly take a step backwards, breaking the trance. "Stop. We can't do this again, Peeta. Not here or now."

Peeta is nodding, both in agreement and maybe because he's trying to clear his head. "You're right. I'm sorry, Katniss." He pulls my hands up and kisses them. "Go on back to the house. I'll be back later."

It's my turn to nod. "Will you be finished soon?"

"Yes. Don't worry. Go on back."

"All right," I say. "I... I'm sorry." I'm not really sure what I'm apologizing for - for stopping things? For disappointing him?

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he smiles gently.

"Then you're not frustrated?" I ask, just to be sure.

"I'm a bit frustrated, but I can work that out easily enough. I need you to leave, though."

I stare at him, puzzled, for a good minute before it finally dawns on me what he's talking about. "Oh!"

"Oh," he agrees. "Now go on back, please, before I get really embarrassed. I'll see you tonight."

"All right," I say, and consider giving him a kiss before thinking better of it, and turn to leave instead. The further from the carriage house I go, the more the fever that had seized me seems to dissipate. But we have to be careful, Peeta and me. It was too easy to slip in that situation; it would be too easy for it to go further. And what if I don't want to stop it next time? Shame washes over me at the thought, because it's bad enough I've already fooled around with Peeta once. I should be able to resist further temptation. It's the way an ideal lady should behave.

But when have I ever been the ideal lady?