It's that night, in the dark motel room, lying on my back between Peeta and Prim on the stiff, squeaky mattress that I truly realize what we've done. Cray's going to kill me when he finds us, no doubt. He always warned me that nobody would miss me. Peeta's kiss from earlier lingers on my lips, making them tingle as I run my fingers over them lightly.

Peeta would miss me.

A life without Cray as a constant threat seems like a fairy tale, something I haven't had in so long that the very image is so hard to bring up in my mind that I have to stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Not having to lock bedroom doors at night, not having those same doors pounded on in the early hours of the morning. A world where I can start over, pass myself and Prim off as orphans or something like that.

Go to a place where I'm not a half-breed to anyone. Just the new girl in town.

"Peeta," I whisper, wishing he'll wake up.

"Wha..." He drawls out sleepily.

"Thank you." My arms wrap around his shoulders as he turns, letting me awkwardly hug his side, "For everything."

I finally start to doze off when he hugs me back, planting a soft kiss on the top of my head, "No problem."

We jump around like that, from motel to motel for three month. Peeta and I spend our days together, sitting on the disgustingly green motel carpets counting the cash left, sharing the take out container of orange chicken, or the late nights of Peeta driving while I sing along with whatever radio station he picks while Prim sleeps in my lap.

It's the most free I've felt in my life. More than the woods, which is to say a lot. Peeta brings me a bunch of dandelions that he picked with Prim from the field next to Panem Motel and I gladly except them, placing them in a chipped green coffee mug on the bedside table.

The kisses happen too, a lot. When Prim's not looking as she watches cartoons, or outside the room before we return for bed. Peeta likes to kiss me in the car too, before he starts driving he'll lean over and trap my lips with his for a second or two. Those are my second favorite kisses.

The best are the heated sessions in the flat bed of his truck, after Prim's fast asleep in the room and I all but drag Peeta outside to the spread blanket in the back to watch the stars. Though we hardly look at the sky. One night like this he breaks us apart to look me in the eyes and tell me his father is sending money for him to open a branch of Mellark Bakery, a joyful smile filling his face when I agree that yes, I will help him with it.

So when the kisses that night turn to touches and panting breaths, and Peeta's fingers drag across the raised scars on my stomach and thighs, I don't stop anything. I embrace it. Under the pitch black night sky I feel like a thousand burning suns, there's only one name on my lips as I explode, Peeta.

And after, when he pulls a blanket over us after checking on Prim and asks, "You love me, real or not real?"

I don't hesitate, "Real."

The End.

I hope you liked this story, it was actually my first Hunger games fic, so this is kind of sad to close it. But I'm on to bigger and better things, more everlark of course. Come talk to me on tumblr, CryingOverMockingjay.

Until next time, have fun reading.

~Tiffany