Hey everyone!

Thank you so much for your incredibly positive reaction to chapter one... and a special thanks to everyone who followed/favorited! I promise I'll try to respond to all of your reviews by the middle of the week, but I've been so busy writing this chapter for you. It's almost three times as long, so I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Two

Peeta wakes at 8:23 am, relishing the sleep he has so blissfully enjoyed. Usually he's out of bed and ready by seven, at work by seven-thirty. The lethargy of Saturday mornings is never lost on him, however, and he stretches languidly and allows himself another ten lazy minutes in his warm blankets. He's just picked up the book on his nightstand – Other Voices, Other Rooms by Truman Capote, a current favorite – and turned to the page he bookmarked last night when there's a banging on his door, followed by Katniss demanding him to get up.

"I am up," Peeta calls back, although it's technically untrue – he's awake, but still lying down.

"Get your ass into the shower, then. I'm hungry."

Reluctantly he tucks the bookmark back into the book. He swings his legs out of bed and pulls at his boxer briefs, which have ridden up on his thighs. "Fine, I'm coming."

When he opens the door, Katniss is standing there, arms crossed across her chest. Her hair is braided over her shoulder and she's already dressed in jean shorts and a tank top. He grins at her obvious exasperation and leans on the doorframe, mimicking her posture. "Morning, sunshine."

She rolls her eyes. "Put a shirt on, idiot."

He arches an eyebrow (because it drives her crazy). "But you just told me to get in the shower. Wouldn't that be counterproductive?"

Katniss glares at him, but he's a good four inches taller than her and refuses to be intimidated. After a couple minutes of silent impasse, he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue, and she hits him in the arm.

"Dammit, Peeta, you're so impossible!"

"That's a bit hypocritical, coming from you… you're the one telling me to do all of these conflicting things."

She scowls. "Just… get in the fucking shower, okay?"

"Sir, yes sir." He salutes. She tries to punch him as he passes, but her fist bounces off his stomach.

"Shit, you little – are you flexing, Mellark?"

He laughs but doesn't reply as he saunters into the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the water. Over the rush of the pipes, he hears her shout: "You keep being an annoying bastard and I'm canceling Saturday morning breakfast for the rest of my life!"

"You would never!" he calls back before stripping off his underwear and stepping into the shower. She gives an frustrated, indecipherable yell in response as he pulls the curtain closed. He chuckles and lets the warm spray soak his body; upon the opening of his shampoo bottle, the clean, fresh scent of Dove permeates the air, and he breathes in the familiar smell and relaxes contentedly against the tiled wall.

Saturday morning breakfasts have been a tradition between them since junior year in high school. Peeta receives his license in late February, and he begins picking up Katniss (she has a couple months before she can get hers) before school starts each morning to go out and eat at a café just five minutes' drive away. He orders a strawberry smoothie and a bagel, and she gets a cappuccino and a cheese bun. He pays on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and she on Tuesdays and Thursdays (he would pay all five days, because Katniss' family isn't as financially stable as his is, but she's too stubborn). When she can drive on her own, they take turns giving each other rides to save gas money.

It's harder in college, because their schools are an hour apart, but they manage to make it work. They meet at the cozy coffee shop every Saturday morning at eleven to catch up over their respective meals, and when finals roll around, they lug in their books and he quizzes her on a bunch of forestry terms that he doesn't really understand and she returns the favor with history. In fact, some of his favorite memories are of her with his huge textbook in her lap, laughing as she tries to pronounce Teotihuacan or Kyrgyzstan or K'iche and throwing cheese bun crumbs at him when he teases her about it.

And then her dad leaves.

It is a chilly March morning. He can still remember her exact expression when she stumbles into the café, thirty minutes late and wrapped in a coat, a beanie sloppily balanced on her head and her cheeks pale despite the cold. "Hey, I didn't think you were coming –" he starts, but upon studying her more closely he realizes there's a reason for her tardiness. It takes him half an hour and two cheese buns to coax the story out of her.

"My dad's gone," she croaks. Her grey eyes are haunted, staring at the plate in front of her, which is covered in broken-apart cheese buns pieces. He's never seen her look like this, ever – not even when her mom got laid off, nor when her sister, Prim, had to get a job waitressing at fifteen to help pay the bills. "He's gone, Peeta."

"What do you mean, gone?" he says, the dread coursing through him, in time to his pulse. "You mean, he's left? Where'd he go? Why'd he leave?"

"I don't know!" She wrenches her hands from his, and clutches at her hat, crazed. "I don't know where he went, I don't know why! Prim called me this morning; Mom's in hysterics. Apparently he didn't even leave a proper note, just a hundred dollars and a slip of paper with I'm sorry written on it, and he's gone, Peeta. He's gone." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, betraying just how close she is to crying. "He's gone, and my mom doesn't have a job. I have no way to pay for Prim next year. I'm graduating and I won't even be able to afford my own place, much less her education. I don't know what to do, Peeta. I have no money to support my own sister through college. I'm a terrible person. She's going to hate me. I hate me." Her shoulders are shaking as she weeps.

"No, stop that now." He leans forward and tips her quivering chin up so he can see the tears sliding down her cheeks and wipes them away with the pad of his thumb. "Katniss, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry won't change anything," she replies bitterly, and when he can't help wincing at the harshness of her words, she softens immediately. "I'm… that was uncalled for. You're just being a good friend, and here I am, a complete bitch. God, Peeta, I don't deserve you. I'm sorry." She laughs resentfully at the irony, but more tears fall. He hands her a napkin, which she uses to swipe at her face angrily.

After she's calmed down some, he continues. "Katniss, you're not a terrible person. And Prim's not going to hate you." He ignores her disbelieving snort. "She knows that noneof this is your fault. She's not going to put all the responsibility for this on you."

Katniss opens her mouth to contradict him, but he shushes her. "Look, I know Prim, and I know you do too, even better than me, so will you stop your damn self-pitying for one moment to listen?" Back then, he rarely swore, so the curse stops her in her tracks. "I know you're blaming yourself for this, but you're not going to get anywhere if you keep sitting here whining about how Prim's going to hate you and your life is over."

He's trying to get her to stop crying, because she never does, and seeing it now is breaking his heart. It works, and she straightens, flashing anger, pressing her lips together. Peeta holds up a hand to stem the flow of indignance that he knows she's about to release.

"Hear me out. Your dad left you." Her metallic eyes crack. He falters only slightly at the painful jolt it gives him. "You can't possibly think that was your fault. I've met your family, and I can't fathom why anyone would want to leave you and Prim and your mom; you're the best people I know. He's to blame, not you, and he's gone, so you can call him as many dirty things as you want and he won't be able to hear you." She quirks a small smile at that, although she sniffles, and it encourages him to keep going. "As for not being able to pay for Prim's college, bullshit. You're smarter than ninety percent of the people in this country; you can get a job."

"I won't be able to pay for her college and my own apartment, though," she replies stubbornly.

He waves a hand dismissively. "You can move in with me, then."

When her eyes widen almost comically, he realizes how his suggestion must have sounded and backtracks quickly, his confident façade falling apart in an instant. "No, no, no, not like that!" he stammers. "No, of course not, I just – you're my best friend, and – shoot, that really did come out wrong, didn't it? I meant, like, platonically. Completely platonically. No ulterior motives. Just sharing an apartment until you're – I mean, we're – able to afford our own places, or maybe until Prim finishes college – either one, it's completely your choice – not that you have to accept or anything, but I…" He trails off at her skeptically amused face. "I just thought it would be a good idea," he finishes lamely, already regretting it.

She considers it, sitting back and picking at the remains of the cheese bun on her plate, all tears gone. For a moment she looks like she'll agree, but suddenly her eyes narrow at him. "Wait. You're not trying to be charitable by doing this, are you? You know I hate when you do that."

He does, and he's forgotten. "I… no, Katniss, I'm not trying to be charitable. I know you hate that." Fidgeting under her unrelenting gaze: "Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But," he adds, "it's not just that. You're not the only one who's broke right now – I'm a senior in college, too. It's not like I have loads of money. It would be nice for me to be able to split rent."

Peeta can see her mind working, weighing out the options. He knows exactly when she relents – it's when she picks up a mutilated portion of cheese bun from her plate and stuffs it into her mouth.

"Fine," she says.

It's Peeta's turn to drive, and Katniss' turn to pay. He pulls the car into a coveted spot – right by the front of the small building – and yanks the key out of the ignition. Once inside, they find that their usual table is occupied.

"I'll go order, and you find us somewhere to sit, okay?" Katniss knows Peeta's meal like the back of her hand, so he's not worried about reminding her. While she heads towards the front, Peeta searches the relatively crowded room for an empty spot. His sweeping scrutiny alights on a table in the corner, but just as he's about to head over, he catches sight of a familiar head of tousled hair.

"Finnick!" Peeta ignores the disapproving glances of two elderly women at his side and weaves his way towards the man whose attention he's just caught. Finnick Odair and his long-term girlfriend Annie Cresta are seated near the center of the room, sharing a breakfast plate and surreptitiously playing footsie, when Peeta reaches them.

Annie smiles. "Peeta! How are you?"

"Hey, Annie." Peeta leans down to give her a quick hug. "I'm great. I hope you're doing well, too?"

She pushes a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Never been better." The look she passes Finnick makes it evident that indeed, nothing has ever been better. They stare at each other for long enough that Peeta shifts uncomfortably and accidentally bumps the table, which makes Finnick look up sheepishly. "Sorry, man."

Annie blushes, and Finnick continues, "Hey, it really has been forever, though. What's up with you?"

Peeta shrugs. "Not much. Just survived the first week of school."

"It can only go uphill from there, right?" Finnick laughs. With Peeta's acquiescent nod, the bronze-haired man adds: "I feel you, though. The rush started; this week's been crazy."

Peeta hums sympathetically. Finnick works as a lifeguard and personal trainer at the local YMCA. The "rush" – his term for early fall, which brings about the inevitable swarm of people looking to get back in shape after summer vacation – is often instrumental in preventing him and Peeta from meeting up until late September or early October, when things at the school and the Y have settled down some. In reality, it's been almost a month since Peeta's last seen Finnick, one of his best friends, which most likely provides the incentive for Finnick's next words:

"We were actually just talking about you," Finnick says. Peeta raises an eyebrow curiously.

Annie places a hand on Finnick's arm. "Finnick, when you say it like that it just sounds creepy."

"Duly noted," her boyfriend admits.

"Anyways, Peeta," Annie says, "we're having a little get-together tonight" – Finnick mouths party behind her back – "and it would be wonderful if you could come. It's only going to be a few close friends; we thought it would be nice to see everyone again, it's really been such a long time."

"There will be alcohol," Finnick interjects, and when Annie turns to death-glare at him, he grins and stuffs the last piece of bacon into his mouth. "I'm just saying. You can't leave out important things like that."

Annie rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. "Ignore him, Peeta. As I was say –"

"Peeta? Did you get a table?"

Katniss appears at his side, holding his smoothie and cream-cheese bagel out to him. Annie lights up. "Katniss!"

She's confused for a brief second, then: "Annie?"

Peeta makes a face at Finnick as Katniss shoves the rest of the food in his direction (he barely catches it) and rushes to embrace Annie, and the two begin speaking rapidly and excitedly; Finnick mirrors his expression. They wait, but after a couple minutes Finnick drags his girlfriend gently away, and Peeta pulls Katniss' arm to guide her back a couple steps.

"It's been so long!"

"I know, we really need to catch up sometime…"

"We should go out and get coffee, maybe?"

"That's such a great idea! When works for you?"

"I don't know, I'll have to check my calendar, but I'm definitely up for that…"

The elderly women are glowering at them again.

Finnick clears his throat impatiently and leans over to stage-whisper to Annie: "How about you catch up at our party?"

"Oh! Right," she says, brightening. "Katniss, we were just telling Peeta that we're having a little get-together tonight" – "Party," coughs Finnick – "and we would just love if you could come. There'll be food, music, friends…"

"…beer," says Finnick. Annie elbows him in the stomach. "Ow! I'm just trying to help here!"

Katniss laughs and glances up at Peeta. Their mutual agreement is clear. "Yeah, we'd love to."

"Great!" Annie claps her hands excitedly. "We'll see you then! It starts at five, our place of course, but really, come whenever you like."

"We'd love you even more if you came bearing drinks," Finnick says, only half jokingly. Annie sighs.

They have some time to kill after breakfast. It's so nice outside that they're both reluctant to return to the apartment, so they end up downtown, which has lots of miscellaneous little stores. Katniss window-shops and Peeta complains whilst eating donuts, and they wander until finally they end up in the park.

The trees cast longer shadows over the sidewalk under their feet and the shade is welcome in the heat of the day. Peeta licks the last of his fifth donut off his fingers and shoves his hands into his pockets casually, while Katniss, slurping at the dregs of her iced frappuccino, skips slightly ahead of him. A single shopping bag – she bought some funny-sloganed T-shirt at a small boutique – dangles in the crook of her elbow and rustles pleasantly in time with the leaves, and the sun sends sharp shadows across her figure. Peeta grins at the youthfulness she exudes as she stops and points eagerly to a tall, gnarled tree to their left. "Hey, look!"

Katniss, even from a young age, has loved climbing trees and sitting up high, while Peeta always preferred solid ground – which ended up to his disadvantage during their prolific hide-and-seek games as children. It hasn't changed a bit now, so when she dumps her bag and empty cup in his arms and runs toward the tree, Peeta finds a trashcan and a nearby bench and sits, savoring the relief it brings to his body (he's been walking all morning). He watches as Katniss shimmies deftly up the branches, her small frame zigzagging intuitively upwards. Within moments, she's ten feet and rising.

Peeta stops tracking her progress as he surveys the rest of the park. It really does look beautiful – the old, huge trees, which jaggedly shoot branches high above to form a lush green canopy, are punctuated by a more-summer-than-fall, cerulean sky. Birds silhouette the sparse clouds and their cheerful song amplifies the tranquility with which they flit lazily through the air. The sun is a little too warm, but soothed by the breeze which whispers through the leaves.

He's interrupted from his reverie when Katniss reaches a break in the foliage and pokes her head out, smiling widely and happily. "Peeta! You coming, or do I need to make you?"

Peeta glances up and blinks. The beauty of nature has somehow transferred onto her: light streaming through the leaves hits her at just the right angle, highlighting her hair in shades of dark brown, an underlying black, and hints of red. Her eyes are ecstatically silver. Her features display such blissful innocence and euphoria that for one moment, Peeta is stunned.

Katniss Everdeen is pretty.

"Peeta?"

He blinks again at the sound of her voice, and when his eyes open, she's Katniss once more, mischievous Katniss who he grew up with, plain old Katniss, his best friend.

"Nah, I think I'll stay down here." He forces himself to sound normal, and he must do a pretty good job, because she shrugs.

"Suit yourself, scaredy-cat."

"Did you just call me a scaredy-cat?" Peeta stands.

She grins. "Maybe I did."

He lunges for the tree so fast he almost slams into it, and Katniss laughs when he fumbles to hoist himself onto the first branch. "You know, you have to be able to climb this in order to catch me."

"Who said I can't?" he huffs, hearing the swish of leaves as she nimbly scrambles higher.

"I know you can't," she taunts, twenty feet above him.

Peeta flails for and finally catches hold of another limb. "Do you want to test that?" He strains himself higher. "Because I think I'm making pretty good progress."

Suddenly, something hits him in the chest, and, unable to keep his balance as the breath is knocked from his lunges, he falls backwards, landing with an ungainly thud. Katniss, giggling hysterically, is sprawled on top of him.

"Fuck you," he groans. She buries her face in his chest, breathless with laughter.

"I… you… you just… fell… I knew you couldn't even make it five feet in the air – !"

"Oh, you did not just say that," Peeta growls, and reaches up to grab her waist, digging his fingers into her sides and making her shriek.

"No! No tickling! Dammit, Peeta – no tickling!"

Katniss finally pulls away from his grasp, gasping for breath. She rolls off of him and onto her back in the grass. He's briefly aware of the abrupt lack of her warmth, and finds himself vaguely disappointed; he quenches that thought immediately while they lie there on the ground, staring up at the clear sky, squinting in the bright sunlight.

She's Katniss. She's his best friend.

Just Katniss. Nothing else.

Thank you for reading!

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