Hello, Hunger Games fans! I'm Joshiferfan (I'm assuming you can guess who I ship haha) and this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction. I've written for other fandoms, so if you happen to like House of Anubis, you can check my writing out at FABINALIVES, my other account. I don't know what kind of things I'll post on here, or how often I'll write, but I can assure you that whatever I post on here will be my very best. Thanks and enjoy my first HG one-shot! It's set in Catching Fire, during a night before the trio met Johanna and the others but after Mags died.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games books or movies, unfortunately. Otherwise, Mockingjay Part 1 would be in theatres already. :)

Stars

Through the cracks in the trees, I could see the twinkling lights of stars winking at us from above. Of course, they weren't real stars, as the ceiling was completely Gamemaker-generated, but the fact that they included the harmless stars to make the tributes feel a little less caged in was something of a comfort. Tiny pinpricks of brightness shining down on the doomed tributes as they tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep. Droplets of water splashed down on my forehead as I kept watch over my small group of allies: Peeta and Finnick. They weren't much, but they were all I could have. If it had been my choice, I would have chosen only Peeta to stay with, no worrying about getting too attached to another. But Finnick had saved Peeta's life, and I didn't think I would be able to kill him. Ever. The joy I felt rushing through me as Peeta gasped for air after the force field had nearly stolen him from me only solidified my weakness toward him. And now, as my eyes passed over the breathing, but probably not sleeping, Finnick, I knew in my heart that I could never take him away from his one true love, Annie. From the world, to be more broad.

"Katniss?" a voice, barely a whisper, startled me from behind. My hand automatically grasped my bow, but looking over my shoulder I realized it was only Peeta. The boy- no, man- who was constantly saving me, and the one who had to escape from this terrible, waking nightmare.

"Hey Peeta. What are you doing up?" I breathed back, careful not raise my voice. I knew the answer to that question, though: he couldn't sleep. Not with the constant threat of death all around him. Around us. Around…me.

"As if I could sleep," he answered, as I had predicted. "I can take over the watch if you want."

"No, you should be resting. I don't want you overexerting yourself."

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against my ear. I almost shivered, having nothing to do with the cool breeze that had passed by for a moment. "You don't have to pretend to care right now. You need rest."

A shard of guilt stabbed me in the chest, reminding me that Peeta knew about my kiss with Gale, and how the 74th Hunger Games had been a complete and utter show. Well, not completely. I could tell my feelings towards him were different than the Reaping over a year ago. But were they enough to call love? My mind flashed back to when he could have died, when his heart had stopped momentarily. I remembered the fear that had gripped my body, scared to admit he wasn't breathing. Was the past year really all an act? Or had my heart grown to accept the love Peeta felt for me and begun to return it?

I tilted my head back slightly to meet his shimmering blue eyes, blue like the waters we had first dived into in this, the third Quarter Quell.

"Peeta…" I started, but he lifted a finger to my mouth to stop the flow of words.

"I want you to sleep. You'll collapse tomorrow if you don't at least lie down," he reasoned, his voice raised slightly.

"I…alright. Can you…can I…" I trailed off, not knowing how to phrase my question. Either he could take my gesture as a sign of caring, or a sign of wanting protection. And I, myself, wasn't sure which one I wanted. Maybe both.

"What is it?" he inquired, encouraging me to finish what I had been wanting to say.

"Can I…stay with you? Right here?" I asked, scooting over to let Peeta lean back against the rock I had been using to keep myself propped up.

"Of course," he replied generously, opening his arms to allow me to curl up against his body. I could his hear his steady heartbeat, as I had been whenever the nightmares caused me to wake up with a scream, which was soothing to my ears.

For a moment, we sat there in silence, shrouded by the cloak of night and nestled underneath the low-hanging branches of a jungle tree. The water continued to drip all around me, soaking my already drenched wetsuit. Peeta's clothes were warm, although still damp, and my body was grateful for this. My head barely moved with the rise and fall of his chest, and I found his hand to entwine with my fingers. He was my source of steadiness, no matter what I felt towards him. Always, I knew I could come to him when I was teetering over the edge. The edge of what, I wouldn't know. But Peeta would be there, and I could never repay this kindness. Well, maybe someday I could.

"Not everything I say or do is an act, Peeta," I whispered, hoping that there were no Capitol cameras trained on us. We were sleeping, and there was probably something more exciting happening at another location in the arena.

"I don't want to talk about this," he said in a tone almost too soft for me to hear. But fortunately, my left ear was closer to him, and I caught the words as they left his mouth.

"But I do. I feel terrible, knowing that you think everything I do is fake. But it's not," I continued, feeling his muscles tense up. I wanted to be honest with him, to tell him the deep stuff as friends should.

"I believe you, Katniss. I just…don't know when it's real and when it's not," he explained. It was definitely understandable, since he couldn't possibly know my thoughts. He couldn't possibly know the raging battle that was constantly fighting inside of my head. But I wanted him to know. I wanted him to trust me.

"When you almost died…I knew at that moment I had changed. We had changed. That day we were reaped, I couldn't bear to look at you. Now, I don't think I could bear to lose you. You're my friend, Peeta. And maybe…maybe more. I just don't know quite yet. I'm so afraid all the time that I can't even think about those things."

He was silent, and I wondered if I had been too open, that he was trying to stop the heartbreak by distancing himself from me. But, even in my mind, it didn't sound like Peeta. He was the type of person to give a second chance, to let me make up for what I had done to him last year.

"I…I don't think I need to explain the way I feel about you. And I'm afraid, just like anyone else who was thrown in here. But I don't want to die not knowing if you-"

"Peeta, don't think like that," I interrupted, turning my face to look at him again. He was still so vulnerable to any type of pain caused by me, and I needed to let him know that I wasn't going to hurt him. That I didn't want to hurt him. His blue eyes, open wide and twinkling with the reflective starlight from the dome above us, was what lifted my heart and drove me to kiss him.

His lips were warm, just like the rest of his body, and salty from the water that was raining down on all of us. I could feel the cameras trained on us now, since the citizens of Panem wouldn't want to miss their favorite romance story of the time. But this wasn't a kiss for the cameras. No, it was a kiss with meaning. A kiss to show that even when I die, he wouldn't live wondering if he had ever changed me at all. This kiss was meant for Peeta, not for President Snow or the Capitol or my survival. It symbolized that I was voluntarily choosing to make us happy, not please the television show. And as his strong hands lifted to hold my face up, I could feel myself brushing my fingertips through his hair. A romantic gesture, telling him that I cared. And, even in the face of our imminent death, I felt his lips curl up in a slight smile. He was happy.

And so, incidentally, was I.

Lying back on the spongy ground, his arms tightened and pulled me closer to him. My eyes darted up to the dark sky above us and found the lovely stars again. Scarce to be counted, they broke this darkness with little bursts of light and hope. These stars, I realized, represented to me the meaningful kisses I shared with Peeta. Of course, ours were numbered to two. The first was in the cave in last year's arena, the only one of many that had stirred me from within. And the second was this one, the kiss we had enjoyed just a few moments ago. And maybe, just maybe, it was a symbol of the ones to come.