Intricate Strokes, Delicate Precision

Option A

By: WincestSounds

Author's Note:

Oi, good lord, I am so completely sorry to all of you. It's not that I fergot about this fic or anything, definitely not. I have just been so insanely busy with life.

I know it's unforgivable, but I'm still adamant about finishing this fic in it's entirety, I promise.

This xmas it felt only right to finally take time and give you guys what you deserve, so here it is.

It's not JUST Option A, either. The last chapter of Option P is also up, on my Tumblr. I know a few of you have asked where to find me now, since my site doesn't exist. GO TO MY TUMBLR. You can't confuse it with anyone else, it's my USERNAME. It's really not much more complicated than that.

Happy holidays everyone! I'm sorry you had to wait a century fer this. Imagine if the apocalypse had actually happened and I never had gotten the chance to post this baby!

~WincestSounds (A)

Anonymous Review Responses:

Guest (Chapter 1): "It's on mine too, glad you like it! ^^"

Romance Reader (Chapter 67): "Oh gods, I'm so sorry honey! I was gone fer so long. Literally feels like I'm coming back from the dead omg. I MISSED YOU!"

Guest (Chapter 68): "Sorry fer the long ass horrible wait!"

Kayla (Chapter 60): "I know right? Yes, I'm a horrible person. E"

Juju (Chapter 39): "Yeah no, it's not where you live that's the problem. I stopped paying fer the site, so it's down. You can view Option P on Tumblr, read my author's note fer more info! ^^"

Side Notes:

I believe in your strength,

Though I understand - you've felt alone.

Because when you need a friend,

There's no one strong to fall back on.

And your past will still burden you,

But I'll hold you through the pain.

The pain.

So, in the end it's not just you,

With your memories and your scars.

Fall on me if you ever forget,

How beautiful you are.

Chapter 17 - Real

"I use to wonder what it'd be like," I say softly, pressing my lips into Katniss's hair and breathing silently as I watch her hand stroke through the hairs on my arm, "To wake up like this with you. I use to wonder if you'd snore, or move a lot in your sleep, or if you'd stretch in the morning and pop all the bones you could."

Katniss raises her brows, but waits silently for me to continue.

"It's one thing to imagine your eyes closed, your body curled against mine, your hands balled into fists," I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, "It's another to sit there and draw them from my own creatively vivid imagination. But to actually see it? To be able to paint them on canvases, brought to life by experience, rather than making it up... I use to think that imagination won out there, that I could make flowers ten times more gorgeous based off of thought, rather than knowing. Maybe that's the case for them, but not with you."

"It's different?" She asks, voice small and unobtrusive.

"Very," I confirm at once, "Unimaginable, Katniss. Some times there are things in the world that words and images can't describe. It's that feeling, your chest rising next to mine, the stiffness of my body, aching limps and warm sheets. I don't think even my paintings have ever captured that, until I actually knew it for myself."

Katniss nods at once, looking back down to my arm, where she's bothered the order of the hairs by trying to push them backwards against the current, "I think there's a lot of things you can say that for. Not really knowing it, until you've done it. Patching up a wound, raising a child you're not ready for, trying new foods, killing an innocent."

"Katniss–"

"I know, sorry," She says, turning her lips into the heat of my skin and pressing them there for a moment, "I'm sorry, Peeta."

"Don't apologize," I push her over carefully, settling on top of her and taking Katniss up into my arms. She clings on at once, fingers pressing into my shoulder blades as she kisses my neck.

We can't even get through normal conversations without some kind of unusually dark theme coming into play. And I know she doesn't do it on purpose, it's just become a normal part of her life, but I really wish it wasn't. I'd do anything to take away all of the trauma burned into our lives, but it's something we'll have to deal with from here on out.

We're not alone, but really we are, because we're the only ones left in the world for one another. And when there's only one, you can do nothing to avoid them. Whether we go through this willingly or not, we'll always be a part of each other's lives.

The worst part is knowing that one of us is going to be without the other, in the end. One of us is going to have to die alone. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure it isn't Katniss. She's lost enough people in her life, the last thing she should ever have to deal with is being without her husband. I can handle it, I can take it a lot better than she can. I can lose her first, knowing that she's passed on safely, knowing that I was there for her.

It's times like now that I'm reminded that Prim isn't alive. When I bake blueberry muffins, or her favorite strawberry cookies, how she'd cover her hand in powdered sugar to roll them into balls and set them perfectly on the trays. She was my little helper, my best friend - in a lot of ways.

I bake them for her now, remember everything I can, as hard as I can. I remember her squinchy face when she smelled baked bread, I remember how large my oven mitts were on her - going up to her elbows, I remember threatening to tickle her under the soles of her feet, and how she always managed to get flour on her nose, no matter what.

They're memories I don't have to try and struggle to remember, and I never have to ask Katniss if they're real. I've always known Prim, she's never changed. And now, she never will.

Where Katniss avoids trying to remember these things, I bring them to the forefront of my mind. It's painful, it hurts, but I never want to forget Katniss's little sister, and her adoration for my iced cakes and cookies.

If I said I didn't cry thinking about her, I'd be lying, but it's not such a bad thing - as long as Katniss never sees. We've all lost loved ones, people we've cared about, but the world would've actually been a better place - with Prim in it. Without her, it's like someone's taken a part of the sun and snuffed out it's light.

It makes anything sweet I make, taste completely soured.

And the effect it's had on Haymitch and Celeste is more monumental than Katniss and I. They're both alone, and everyone loved Prim. Katniss's mother doesn't even bother to visit the last daughter she has left, and Haymitch has lost ten too many people that've mattered in his life.

He may be an old, miserable drunk, but he does his best to keep it together - for Katniss and I. At least we've both still got him. We're all wounded soldiers, and we all manage in our own ways.

Katniss wakes me barely an hour into sleep, not by the usual - screaming and kicking - but by pressing her lips to mine. It's a more than welcome wake, very unexpected, but very much welcome. I don't think she actually ever fell asleep at all, I think she's just been laying here, thinking over everything. With time like we have, thinking is one of the most common things we do, sitting for hours in silence, while our minds mull things over.

I know Katniss does it a lot, over-analyzing some things, I'm sure, it's in her nature. But at least she's giving them thought.

Her lips press firmly to mine, almost shaking, nervous, I'm guessing. Her fingernails press into the skin of my left peck, the warm pads of them running achingly slow over my nipple. I don't know if she's doing it on purpose, but I'm quite awake now - every single part of me is.

I turn into her mouth, opening my own to taste her lips. It's heated all of a sudden, eager, and she's climbing onto me. Her hands are on my chest and in my hair, the warmth of her body arching into mine as she pulls back to look into my eyes.

"Not yet," She says, breathless as she smiles, "But soon, can we–?"

She doesn't have to say it, it's... Very obvious, what she wants to do. So I nod, cradling the back of her head as I bring her in again, "Yeah," I agree, "soon."

She kisses me once more, her long hair pillowing around us, almost black in the night and I wrap my arms around her thin waist, unable to resist my hips canting upwards into her and she gasps.

"Peeta," She whispers against my mouth, legs parting and knees sliding up over the sheets to settle on either side of my waist.

Katniss's skin is heated under my palms and I run them up under her top, fingers tracing the soft skin of her stomach, up around to the scars on her back. I've never really touched them, but I'll adore them with every ounce of my soul.

I'm careful with her, so careful, as I calm myself and close my eyes, pressing my nose against her jaw line and breathing slower as we settle back down.

"I already have four frozen loafs," Haymitch argues as I set down the loaf of bread in my hands. He watches me wearily, eyes a bit colder than usual. He's not having a good day.

"Alright, well this one's warm, so have a bit, before it gets cold and you throw it in with the rest of them," He has to know I won't give up until I've had my way, that's how I've always been, and I guess it's sticking.

He nods finally and takes the end piece I carve out for him. I'll bet you the other four are missing the ends as well, it's his favorite part.

Haymitch bites into the warmed bread and I almost see him visually relax into it. It's probably still more tense than anyone else I've ever met, but it's significant for him, "So what brings you around today?"

"Actually," I start, taking a seat on the stool beside his, "I uh... I have a favor to ask."

"Name it," He says at once, and it's good to know that he means it. One thing I can always rely on is Haymitch's ability to both take me by surprise, and warm any parts of me that are feeling even slightly ill towards him.

I look down at my hands nervously and he's raising his brows when I glance back up at him.

He then looks sort of concerned, and stern, at the same time, "Alright, go ahead. Out with it."

I've faced down Tributes in the games better than this, but it's literally like asking your father, "I was just wondering, I know you're probably my best bet, if it's even possible to... To get protection."

Haymitch knows exactly what I mean the moment it's said, his back straightening up as he stares at me in a look that could only be referred to as 'taken aback'. He relaxes after a brief moment though, slowly smiling and nodding before patting me on the back, "Yeah, alright. I can get you some. It's better than you not asking me at all, I guess. I'm glad for you, and I mean it, I really am. It's about time the two of you stopped messing around, and got serious."

"Thank you, Haymitch," I tell him, relieved that he's being so easy about the entire thing. In all honesty, the situation could've become really awkward and uncomfortable, but he evaded it.

In a lot of ways, he really is like my father. I mean, the two men are completely different in very, very many ways, but they're also similar in some. Sensitive to harmless people, caring and considerate, they have good senses of humor, and they both are dear and close to me. One by blood, and the other by extreme circumstances.

I don't think I'll ever be able to spend as much time with Katniss as I want to. Pressing my hands into her skin, mapping her body, running my lips over every inch I can - there'll never actually be enough, in the end; I'm sure of it. I can kiss the feather soft curls of her lashes for hours if I really want to, or if she even has the patience to sit there and let me do it. I could rub out every kink and knot in her muscles until I'm worn myself, I'll still not be satisfied.

I won't be satisfied with having her every night from here on out, or having children with her, or seeing her grow old. I'm pretty sure that this isn't the life that was meant for us, we should've never gone through what we did. What was suppose to happen, though, may have not been perfect either, but it would've been expected. Katniss never actually getting drawn, and the both of us going on our own ways, until I finally got up the nerves and professed my love for her. And we weren't scarred and ruined by Snow.

But it's like a fairytale, at this point, to think that way. Romantic. Delusional. Reality is harsh, people get ruined, things don't happen the way you want them to.

I won't be satisfied, but I'll be more happy than I would've ever been in any other possible outcome, and that's what I have to take from this.

"You love me. Real or not real?" I ask breathlessly, turning my nose into the hair by her ear, sweated and sticking to her skin.

She smiles and moves in close, her warm body against mine, slick and smooth as she lifts a leg to wrap around my waist, "Real."

I roll over carefully, settling my body on top of hers. I stare down into her eyes, run my thumb over her forehead before leaning in and pressing my lips to hers. She's shaking against me, still spent and excited.

"Tell me you mean that, Katniss," I stare into her eyes, "I trust you, I believe you, but I need to hear it."

"It's real," She says as she smiles, "Really real." Her hand touches my cheek and I lean into it, unable not to.

I settle my forehead against her's, closing my eyes and breathing in carefully, "I know things have been really... Really rough for the both of us. Almost all our lives, it's been constant and looming over head, but the games are gone, they're done. Hopefully, they won't ever return, and we'll be here to stop them, if they do. But I want something for us, Katniss. I want something to be ours, something between us. I don't just want to rest, not completely."

"What are you asking for?" Katniss eyes me suspiciously, raising one of her defined brows as if to accuse me.

"Is it so wrong to want children?" I ask, almost nervously, "I mean, I want them. You'd be an amazing mother, Katniss, and you know you would. Is it really so bad, to want that for us?"

"Every time I turn around, you're asking for babies."

"Because I want them."

Katniss closes her mouth and looks at me almost glaringly, "What makes you think I do?"

"I know you," I explain, tucking a sweaty strand of hair away, "I know you better than anyone else, Katniss. I know you want them. You're just torturing yourself, by saying 'no' every time I ask."

She seems to consider it for a moment, she knows I'm right, and she can't really hold any lasting argument anymore. Finally, she nods, "Alright, if you can get me pregnant, I'll have your babies."

I'm not sure if it's the least arousing thing, or the most arousing thing she's ever said to me, but it does the job. I'm almost completely hard at once, leaning in to press my body to hers and watch her eyes widen.

"Is it really that good?" She asked, chuckling as her body responds, arching and sliding against mine.

"To hear the woman I love tell me that she wants my children?" I ask, breathing and nipping against her jaw line, "God, yes it is, Katniss."

It's very good. Because Katniss would never actually agree to something that she didn't want to do, not something as big as having children. Yes, I'm a persistent man, and I would've asked until the ends of my days, but she never had to actually say 'yes'. She's choosing to do so now, because she does really, really want to have them.

Katniss grabs my shoulders, her nose touching mine as I settle back on top of her, hiking her legs and pressing into her again.

She gasps, hands moving up into the hair at the nape of my neck, mouth open slightly in awe as I move carefully, thrusting into her. We're both still so sensitive, bodies shaking and shivering against one another.

I drop my head to her sweated chest, kissing the skin as I draw her up into my arms, rolling over and almost sighing at the feel of the cold bed sheets just by where we'd settled in. My hands drop to her waist as she moves on me, clasping the skin and guiding her down as her hair spills down her shoulders.

The freckles over her breasts are nearly glowing in the warm light of the room, her skin heated, flushed from before.

She looks beautiful like this - more carefree than I've seen her, probably ever before. Though her body is practically dripping with sweat, and her brows are notched in the broken way they are, when I know she's close to relief, she's unguarded, unprepared, but excited.

I grip her hips tighter, pulling her down and rocking my own up into her, catching her by surprise and her hand slips off my shoulder, onto the pillow by my head and her eyes are suddenly level with mine - stunned and overwhelmed as she shakes and trembles, gasping my name before she smiles and laughs, taking my face in her hands and kissing me breathlessly.

It's honestly more than I can handle myself, the clenching walls around me, tightening with her laughter, and I cup her cheek with one hand, running my thumb over her bottom lip as we slow, as we fold up into one another - her causing me to shake, and me returning the favor.

I press my forehead to hers as the laughter dies down and she stares into my eyes again.

"You love me. Real or not real?" She asks, grinning as she moves a wet sop of bangs from my forehead.

"Real," I whisper back, "Always real, Katniss."

Ending Notes:

Don't ferget to review! And no, this isn't the end, there's STILL the epilogue.

~WincestSounds