Peeta always made an especially extravagant cake for her birthday, one with at least three levels and intricate designs made from various colors of icing, and because it was just the two of them left to eat it, he'd send some over to her mother and gift the children who liked to play across the street with the rest; Katniss always laughed, peeking through the window, at the way their eyes rounded in shock as he leaned down to carefully hand the pieces to them.

This year was different, though; this year, he tried teaching her. Their day of baking didn't go so well, to say the least. Peeta attempted to show her how to combine the levels, attempted to guide her in ways of icing lettering, and attempted to show her how he drew the works of art atop each surface, and although Katniss admired the stillness, focused movements of his hands and the concentrated gleam in his blue gaze, she had never been one for baking.

Their lesson ended with Katniss collecting a bit of icing onto the tip of her finger and smearing it across his warm, soft cheek with a completely impassive expression, a shine of mockery in her eyes.

In short, Peeta won the food fight that ensued, the cake mostly ended up splattered across the floor, and they were both pretty sure they had cake stuffed in places they didn't want to think about right then, but they were laughing just the same.

All rights go to their respective owners.