Hey y'all! Sorry, sorry, profusely sorry for the wait. Lots of excuses, not gonna bore you though.
Many thanks to my reviewers! Y'all are so sweet and encouraging!
Another big thanks to a good friend, who read over this, didn't completely despise it, and helped me catch a few things. You know who you are.
Lastly, The Hunger Games, The Amazing Race, and Josh Hutcherson and his perfect jawline do not belong to me. That last one is really depressing. Please read and review! -WNW

They would pick the pedestrian plaza in Times Square as the place to start the race. It had the bonus of being basically a free, living obstacle course and it was optimally loud and confusing. If we didn't play it right the instant the gun went off, we'd lose each other in the crowd.

"Ok, before they have us run out there into the thick of it, I have a questionable technique that may save us from getting separated," Peeta says adjusting the straps of his bulky pack and avoiding direct eye contact, as we wait just out of sight in a make shift tent of sorts, last in line, preparing to run out whenever Flickerman announces our name and hometown.

"Ok, how questionable," I reply, bouncing on the balls of my feet, trying to shake myself out, my muscles all bundled with nerves. Magazines were cool, I couldn't trip in a magazine in front of thousands upon thousands of people, land flat on my face, and lose the race before it even started. That's totally doable on a reality television show however.

"Just mildly. I think we should hold hands, we won't get lost that way and to be honest I could do with the extra stability," he admits, flashing me a jittery sort of grin. My stomach clinches suddenly. Holding hands seemed so intimate. Then again, Peeta and I would basically share a room until the end of the show, things were about to get more intimate fast. It was unnerving, but my discomfort with physical contact was a hurdle that needed to be jumped now.

"I'll hold you up if you hold me up,"I agree.

"Deal, and if anybody gets in the way we'll just bowl them over, like tag team wrestlers," he jokes.

"I'm so sure. I can see it now, Peeta Mellark clothes-lining a little old lady in her "I Heart New York" t-shirt, Macy's bags flying everywhere. That's prime time television," I reply and then we're laughing, almost deliriously, the anxiety of this crazy, new thing we're embarking on in front of virtually everyone we know with a television set, having finally gotten to us. Peeta stopped to breath for a second, his voice and eyes suddenly full of realization.

"Holy crap, that Cato guy might kill someone," he says.

"Maybe it will be one of his adoring fans and they'll go out happy," I speculate. "Let's just make sure it isn't one of us."

A guy in a head set warns us that we're the next team to the start.

"Ready," he asks and those big, blue eyes search my face kindly. He extends his hand to me. I feel a swooping sensation in my stomach that I'm not willing to credit to anything, but the thousands of people waiting in the square.

"As I'll ever be," I reply and slide my hand into his. For a moment, we stand just on the other side of the tent's open flap hand in hand, and I'm so nervous it feels as though I've created my own bubble, blocking out the persistent noise that is New York. All I can here is the thud of of the blood pumping in my ears, faster than it should, and my mind over analyzes the details of Peeta's hand. Calloused here and there, but still soft, and strong. More than anything, his grip is firm and secure. A peal of thunder rumbles ominously, but even it sounds muffled beneath my staccato heartbeats. Then, siphoned from the distant clamor, I hear Flickerman calling us out, Peeta shoots me a winning grin, and we're off, sprinting down the little runway towards the other teams and Flickerman, nearly neon against the gray sky . Somehow, we make it unscathed to the center of the plaza. I catch my breath, utterly in disbelief that I didn't humiliate myself or create a catastrophic domino effect bringing Peeta and anyone close enough, down with me. While Flickerman works the crowd, I suddenly realize that my intact arrival is mostly due to the fact that I've crushed all the bones in Peeta's hand and I start to loosen my grip.

"Don't. Nervous. Need to be ready to run," he says out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes on Flickerman as he goes over a few preliminaries.

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I'm beginning to think we may lose. Not because we don't have what it takes. No, it's mostly because I can't focus worth a damn. What kind of a grown man am I? Not much of one apparently, because the fact that hard shelled Katniss Everdeen is holding my hand on national television, has reduced my insides to a giddy, maelstrom of endorphins. It's taking everything to keep my facial expressions in check. I had surgery once, just before they wheeled me in, they plugged liquid valium into my iv, explaining that it was working when I started to grin and couldn't stop. That is how I feel now, only I have to stop, or I'll give myself away. It's easier once I focus on Flickerman and his shirt, so loud it accounts for half the noise out here.

"Here at Around the World we stand behind the idea that it's not if you win or lose, it's how you play the game. That in mind, at the end every show, viewers will have voted on their social media site of choice and a people's champion will be awarded. The rewards can be anything, a better hotel room, a secret short cut, first class airfare, a driver, just one more reason to interact with our audience. Who knows, you may have already won them with your interviews," he says giving us all a wink and I'm reminded of the question he asked me when he pulled me aside at dinner.

"So, Peeta, someone mentioned that your feelings towards Miss Everdeen may be less platonic than we gathered in our first interview. Any truth to that?" And at first I'd been stunned, my eyes flitting to Haymitch and the man suddenly became very interested in whatever Effie had to say. That sneaky son of a - "Peeta?"

"Um, about that," I stammered and then made a quick decision. Denying it had done me no good so far, but blatant honesty seemed too much. "I guess you'll see won't you," I replied with what I hoped was a steady grin.

This may be why Flickerman's eyes linger on the pair of us.

"Now, I must remind you that the last team to our check point tonight will be eliminated. This is an elimination round. Lastly, our clue. 674 miles made me a bronze hero, but you'll have farther still to go. To find out where first you'll roam, simply find me and remember Nome."

Flickerman raises a racing pistol over his head.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's go Around the World," and he fires. Katniss is immediately tugging my hand.

"Let's go," she's saying. "I've got it. Follow me."

The threat of pedestrian collisions becomes real as we streak through the crowd toward the street, looking for taxi cab yellow. I throw a look over my shoulder.

"Cato and Clove are right behind us," I shout.

"Then run faster, " she suggests breathlessly. "TAXI!"

She rips open the door as a cab glides to a stop in front of us and we throw ourselves in, landing tangled, but the first team in a cab. One of our camera crew crams himself into the passenger seat, whirling to point the camera at us.

"Corner of 67th and East Avenue please, go, go, go!," Katniss cries out.

"50 dollars extra in it if you can shake the cab behind us," I add watching Clove and Cato hailing a taxi through the back glass.

"Hold onto your hats," the driver says in agreement and we scream into traffic cutting off another taxi. I turn to Katniss.

"What's the clue," I ask as the weight of our packs plus the sharpness of the driver's turns throws us around the back seat. Somebody honks. A lot more people honk. "Tell me now before we die."

"It's the Balto statue just north of the zoo in Central Park. Remember the movie with the Russian goose?" Katniss tells me grinning excitedly .

"No, I don't and I hope no one else does either. Good job," I congratulate.

"It was Prim's favorite movie. We saw it a few times when we moved to my place in the city," she says with a shrug, bracing herself against the door.

"Well, thank you Prim," I say into the camera.

"Yes, thanks Little Duck," Katniss adds, blowing a kiss at the camera. I check the back glass and don't see any sign that we're being followed. I sigh with relief and immediately have my head rapped on the window as we whip around a bike messenger. The driver curses and the cameraman laughs. Several death defying blocks later, the park is in sight and though I regret paying Barney, the clearly semi-suicidal cabbie, to shake the competition I give him another fifty to stay put before we sprint into the park.

"This way," Katniss shouts and I'm right behind her, that braid I'm a little too into, whipping out behind her as she runs. Gary, the camera guy, is huffing along behind us.

"I can see it," she crows, rounding a curve in the path, and I see it to. A bronze sled dog, perched high on his miniature mountain over a graven plaque. We reach the neon green drop box together and rip out the first laminate card, just as Finn and Jo round the corner.

"Flight 231 from LaGuardia airport only has room for three teams. Hope you find it in time," I read over Katniss' shoulder and we're running again, crossing poor Gary who didn't get a chance for a breather.

"You got this Gary, " I shout as I run by. Katniss whoops and high fives her friends as we pass. Besides those two, no one else seems to have caught up to us and I'm impressed with Barney's driving for a minute, but I remind myself our lead isn't a big one, just one slipup and we could go home today. For the longest time, I'd watched Katniss struggle, the prize money would be the end of that. I'm not letting us go home today or any day. Proof that I've been counting my chickens before they've hatched rears it's ugly Cato shaped head, as we bound into the short straightaway leading back to the street. There, parked as close as they can get to the front of Barney's cab without actually touching it, is Cato and Clove's car, they lope past with triumphant grins. Barney is stuck tight, Cato and Clove's cab in front and a car we don't recognize parked behind him, he's got no wiggle room.

"I'm sorry boss. The guy won't move. The kid paid him to stay put," Barney explains leaning out of his window and flipping off the other driver, who yells back a string of colorful explicatives. "Oh yeah? Well, same to you buddy!"

"You getting all this Gary," Katniss asks, raising her brows. I hand a suddenly very calm Barney another fifty for keeping up his end of the deal anyway and sigh.

"Come on, we gotta find another cab," I tell her, looking up and down the street for yellow. It begins to drizzle.

"Need a ride," Finnick's voice rings out as he comes into view, Johanna right behind him. Suddenly, a cab breaks out of traffic and roars up alongside Barney's. "Cause that's ours. With a creative seating chart we might just fit."

Turns out Finnick and Johanna had paid their driver to drop them off on 64th and pick them up at 67th, noticing Cato and Clove's interest in their route.

Seconds later finds the four of us wedged in the backseat, our new driver making quick work of the four mile drive, Katniss perching awkwardly in my lap, trying to make herself lighter it seems, by sheer power of mind.

"I'm so sorry," she says for the tenth time, trying to reach some mental state of anxiety where she can just hover an inch over my lap.

"It's alright, really, I could think of worse seating arrangements," I tell her smiling.

"Do tell," she deadpans.

"Well, me sitting in Finnick's lap or vice versa. No offense buddy, but you're just not my type, and Johanna, I'll be honest, you're too much woman for me." I tell the pair of them. Johanna gives me a catlike smirk and Finn laughs, a flash of bright white teeth in his disturbingly attractive face. Or you sitting in his lap, I think to myself. Just friends or not, a particular photo from her article on Finnick was burned into my memory. It was taken in Hawaii and Finnick's arm was draped loosely around Katniss' waist, his hand touching the olive skin revealed by her swimsuit, and they were laughing, roaring with laughter actually. She looked carefree and comfortable and not at all how she looked right now in my lap. I didn't think I could truly be jealous, not over someone I had never had and likely never would, until the moment I saw that picture. The flash of ridiculous envy sparks a rash thought and I can't contain it, before I know it, I'm wrapping an arm around her and smoothing my hand up and down her back.

"A few things. You weigh absolutely nothing. We're probably going to have to touch each other here and there to get to the end of this I'm sure, you just tell me if something is too much for you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. For instance, by telling you that I'm going to have to thank Cato for this later, no one this pretty has ever found themselves in my lap," I tell her with a wink and I'm no Finnick Odair, but I'm certain the flush that blooms in her cheeks is promising.

"Don't get too comfortable Brainless, once we're out on the street it's every man for himself again," Jo tells her as the airport comes into view.

"Oh, I won't forget," Katniss replies and for a second I see the first real streak of her competitive nature in those slate gray eyes, quickly washed over with mild indifference.

"Bet I beat you there by a mile," Jo prods.

"Bet what exactly," Katniss asks, lured out. I'm beginning to think competing with Johanna is something she enjoys, but pretends not to.

Johanna gives me a long look and a slow smile.

"Just one nibble, if I win," she says.

Katniss glares suddenly.

"Jo! Stop it!"

"What? If you really don't want me to you'll run all the faster."

Katniss gives me an uneasy look and her eyes dart back to Johanna, hardened steel.

"First one to the gate," Katniss stipulates. "Partners don't count."

"Deal," Johanna agrees and turns to me again, her grin positively devilish. "Don't worry, I won't bite that hard."

The drivers stops suddenly and it's time to bail out. Katniss rolls out my lap and onto the curb, running to yank both our packs out of the waiting trunk.

"What did you just get me into," I ask rushing along beside her, jamming my arms into my straps after she tosses me my bag, and following her in.

"Don't worry, I'll get you out too. Jo forgets, my city, my airport, I've done this a thousand times. She's just a tourist," Katniss tells me as we jog.

"The tourist that's gonna kick your ass," Johanna adds sprinting past us, Finnick hot on her tail, bolting around a corner before we can get to it. Katniss grabs my arm and makes a 180 turn.

"Run fast, help desk is this way," she says with a mile wide grin, and we tear away, bounding around people and their luggage.

"That was dirty Everdeen," Jo screeches over the crowd behind, once we've got a significant head start towards the desk. Katniss just laughs as she runs.

"Tourist,"she yells back.

We suddenly stop in front of a pretty lady behind a desk and a computer.

"Good morning, where is flight 231 leaving from," Katniss asks politely, breathlessly. The woman types quickly and smiles at us as we gulp for air.

"Terminal B, gate C-11," she answers. "Have a nice flight."

"We will, thank you," Katniss days already tugging me back into a run.

"Run like your neck depends on it," she yells over her shoulder, her hand pulling mine.

"Does it," I shout back, picking up the pace, certain I hear the squeak of Johanna's sneakers on the polished floor not far behind.

"Maybe. Mostly your jaw. She likes your chin," Katniss admits laughingly.

"My chin," I laugh.

"Well, it is a nice chin," Katniss calls out and I smile.

We're in the little offshoot of C gates and Katniss, lets out a whoop of excitement.

"There it is!"

"I'm coming Brainless, better run faster," Johanna shouts and I look back, she's maybe five yards behind us and running full tilt.

"Partners don't count," I remind Katniss, knowing she'll run twice as fast if she isn't guiding me. She grins at me again, her eyes gone quick silver amidst the thrill of competition, and she lets go of my hand, streaking out in front, shouting back all the while.

"Not today Jo!"

Johanna powers past me. I can hear Katniss laughing, her braid swishing behind her, and though I pride myself on not ogling her, it can't be helped, her ass is incredible in those running shorts.

"Not a bad view eh Mellark," Finnick says, suddenly at my elbow, giving me an Odair wink.
Embarrassed at having been caught or angry that Finnick can see what I can see, I bolt ahead, making it far enough to see Katniss tag the gate sign with the the palm of her hand seconds before Johanna, and break into a ungainly, but victorious, little dance.

"Spoil sport," Johanna pouts.

"Thanks for saving my neck," I tell Katniss when I reach them, Finnick just behind me. She smiles happily.

"We're the first two teams," Finnick points out, looking around and we are.

"We won't forget the cab favor," Johanna warns.

"Neither will we," I promise.

"Wonder what team is lucky number three?" Katniss wonders.

I tell myself that it will be anyone other than Cato and Clove, just because they played dirty and honestly the way Cato eyes Katniss makes me want to break his jaw. Even as I force feed my train of thought straight positivity, he and his teammate come running around the corner, his beady eyes locking onto Katniss with hard determination.

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Normally men understand my cold shoulder. Although, there are some, like Finn, who initially see it as a challenge, but Cato Hart, seems to be taking it as a personal insult that I am both beating him and that I haven't thrown myself at him with wild abandon. After we receive the tickets waiting for us at the gate he makes another ill conceived attempt for my attention. His nearly trashcan lid sized hand clapping Peeta on the back.

"Hey man, swap seats," he demands his hand reaching out to snag Peeta's boarding pass, but Peeta moves, deftly jerking it away.

"I'm good where I am thanks," Peeta says politely, but firmly, and then ever diplomatic turns to me. "What about Katniss? Want to sit by Clove," he asks as if Cato hadn't been trying to force him out of his seat, but just shake up the seating arrangement.

I give the dark eyed girl a few feet away a look as if I'm considering the idea and I'm greeted with a cold glare.

"Nah, I don't think either of us are into girl talk," I reply. Cato gives Peeta a look I'm certain would kill most people, but Peeta only smiles back politely. Cato stalks back to Clove, throwing us both that same withering glare.

Peeta turns to Gary, who's only just caught up a few minutes ago, but managed to catch the short exchange.

"Stick around Gar, the second that thing isn't pointed at me, he's going to bash my head in," Peeta jokes.

One by one, the other teams arrive, only to be sent to the next gate, waiting another two hours until take off. I give Rue a remorseful little wave, happy they came in fourth, but wishing they'd managed to displace Cato and Clove. The four hour flight to Aruba seems daunting with them in the same air tight space. Finn has a short, probably extremely flirtatious conversation with Annie, when she and Cecilia arrive. I'm happy to note they haven't come up last.

On the plane, I begin to relax, like a fish back in the water. Peeta gives me the window and takes my backpack to stow it in overhead and I'm momentarily distracted from his gentlemanly behavior by the long strip of abdomen revealed by him reaching overhead. Whatever Peeta does when he isn't baking is working, because the muscled expanse of stomach sloping into his black athletic shorts is enough to make my cheeks heat and I abruptly look away out the window.

"Hot damn, what did he say in the cab," Jo whispers in my ear, suddenly leaning over the back of my seat as Peeta continues to struggle with the bags. "That you two would have to touch each other from time to time before this was over? I'd start right now and never stop."

"Shut up Jo," I hiss back.

She gives my head rest a good shake before, looking at Peeta, just as he slams the overhead shut triumphantly.

"Hey Mellark, changed my mind about where I want to nibble," she tells him and even as all the blood in my body rushes to my face, I can see Peeta's cheeks going pink, but he grins.

"Sorry, Johanna, I believe you lost that bet. Nibbles are for winners," he jokes smoothly .

He slides into the seat next to me and smiles.

"Your friends are...," he searches for a word.

"Crazy, obscene, disturbed in the head," I offer.

"Mostly horny," he finishes.

"Oh yeah, that," I reply nodding. "Yeah, that's twenty four seven. Shame they don't sell chastity belts in airport gift shops you might need one before this is over."

"Don't have one I can borrow," he asks with a chuckle and his eyes are a mirthful cornflower blue, a bright ring of light green around his iris. He really is something. Instinctually, I start focusing my camera. I'm never without it and today is no different.

"No, I must have left mine at home," I answered.

"Some seasoned traveler you are."

"Do you mind," I ask lifting the camera.

"Not at all," he answers kindly and I snap a few of his face, smiling with satisfaction. Just enough light, his eyes really pop. Dutifully, I stand and turn to snap a few of Finn and Jo, who surprisingly cooperate.

"So we should be friends I think," Peeta says when I sit back down.

"Well, you'd certainly be a less horny change of pace," I reply. He laughs.

"I don't know about that," he jests. "But yeah, the team that wins this is going to have to be close knit, we've got four hours until we have to hit the ground running, obviously that rules out plane drinking, so lets you and I become friends," he suggests as the seatbelt light comes on.

"How do we go about doing that," I ask. "I'm not exactly the most experienced at making friends."

"Don't worry grasshopper, I can teach you," he says. "We'll ask each other questions."

"Any question?" I query.

"Sure. Nothing's off limits. Friends tell each other things. Sound good," he asks.

"Yeah, sure, but you first," I agree as the plane begins to take off.

"Favorite color," he starts, leaning a little further back in his seat and fixing me with his undivided attention.

"Green," I shoot back, easily. "You?"

"Orange," he replies. I give him a strange look. "Not day-glo Effie orange, natural orange, sunset," he clarifies.

"Favorite food, besides cheesebuns?"

"The lamb stew my dad used to make. I can't cook and no one else can touch it. But, I swear, best thing I've ever eaten on earth. How did you know about my cheesebun addiction?"

"I ran the bakery on Main by myself during your second semester away. Whenever you came home for breaks I'd have to double our cheesebun production."

"You did not!"

He laughs.

"I did, but it was my pleasure. Cheesebun business was booming with you around."

I blush, but continue on, now that we've covered how much of a pig I am.

"Your favorite food?"

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Almost four hours and one short layover in Miami later we're still talking, but the questions have gotten harder.

"Why didn't you tell, on your mom, I mean," she asks looking down apologetically.

I sigh.

"She was a lot of awful things, but she was still my mom. For a long time I believed the things she said, thought I could do better and be better and she'd be happy then. It took a long time to realize she'd never be happy. After that, I told myself that she was sick, something was wrong with her, that somehow being her whipping boy was noble, that it made her feel better, but a person can only take so much. One day, Dad walked in just as it was happening and she was so furious she never even noticed him there, just kept whaling on me. He threw her out and that was that I was a sophomore in high school, after that life got better, way better."

She sighs and I'm uncertain what feeling lays behind her mercurial eyes.

"I'm glad for that," she says finally.

"Me too," I reply, deciding to try for more levity while getting an answer to one of my own wonderings. I lower my voice, signal for her to come closer, and lean down to her ear.

"Why didn't you sleep with Finnick," I ask and surprisingly she laughs, throwing back her head and exposing the long tan column of her throat and I'm instantly reminded of her in that picture. She's comfortable. The knowledge of that is elating.

"Um, I imagine I didn't for the same reason everyone else does. I mean he's gorgeous, that's a given, but he knows it, and that's annoying. He oozes sexuality and that's just not my thing. I like a little more finesse. Subtle is more my pace."
I smile. Great answer.

"Subtle is good," I say. I can do subtle. I'm the king of subtle.

"Very good," she answers. The pilot announces our impending landing and I take a moment to lean across Katniss, looking out the window at the aquamarine waters of Aruba, noting for the first time her perfume, that seems to have a hint of lime to it, and sun block. It's like summer.

"Wonder what we'll be up to," I ask.

"My bet's on the water," she says, her face next to mine at the window, highlighting perfectly how in four hours time, I've gotten closer to Katniss Everdeen than I have in my entire life.

A change of clothes into swimwear and cover-ups, an airport sprint, hellacious taxi ride, and tiny puddle jumper plane ride over the deep azure waves and we've reached our destination, a rocky little island off the coast of Aruba. We've lost the lead, because apparently when you bet Johanna drinks at the hotel, she starts to take things seriously. Katniss jokes that it's because Johanna has more experience getting in and out of her clothes fast. They only just beat us to the little island tour plane, with only enough room for two teams and while normally I'm a good sport, leaving Cato and Clove to catch the next plane with whoever caught up, was somewhat satisfying. A couple of Finnick's renditions of the Gilligan's island theme song later, I was rethinking that.

Flickerman was waiting, blooming out of sand in a white panama hat, hot pink silk shirt, and white linen pants.

"Welcome, welcome. Today's challenge will not only take teams of sound mind and body, but teams with patience. On my signal you will race down the beach and climb that cliff side," he explains, pointing to the rocky cliffs to the north, where there appears to be a wide overhang, some thirty feet over the water. "From there you will jump to the water below and swim four hundred feet to the parallel beach, and then the hard part begins. Once on shore, you will pick your tools and build a sand castle four feet high with four flagged turrets, and it must pass a creativity inspection by three judges, each a professional sand sculptor."

We are meant to pass our bags to Gary who will be riding in the boat to film our swim across. Cameramen are scattered through out the cliffs. The cliffs themselves must be easy enough to climb because the only gear we're given are helmets and a pair of life jackets, no climbing gear necessary. I'm momentarily paralyzed when Katniss shimmies out of her Nike running shorts and pulls her tank top over her head, revealing a peach bandeau top bikini, again, for a second I'm certain we'll lose, because she's too incredible, so much so, Gary began filming as soon as her pack hit the ground, some dirty reality tv instinct telling him clothes were about to come off, and thankfully she straps on the bulky black life jacket, and I gain full capability of speech again. I give Gary a sharp look as I rip my shirt over my head and stuff it into my bag. It freaks me out a little that he keeps on filming me in much the same way he had Katniss.

"Getting a little creepy there Gar," I say tossing my pack into the boat at his feet. He laughs.

"Hey man, gotta keep the lady viewers happy too," he tells me.

Katniss leans close to my face minutes later, helping me with the strap on my helmet.

"What are you thinking about so hard there Mellark," she asks and seeing as how I'm thinking about how perfect her thighs look and she can probably smell my brain cooking, I blink stupidly for a moment, before forcing myself onto another train of thought.

"How bad a swimmer I am," I say quickly, which is what I had been thinking about briefly before Katniss decided to enter my personal space.

"That's ok, I love to swim. I'll get you there. Once you've hit the water, spread your arms and bow you back to keep from sinking too far. The life jacket will help propel you to the top, then you have me," she smiles encouragingly.

If only, I think dryly to myself.

The next plane is buzzing the island when Flickerman calls us to attention, firing the racers pistol again. Sand flies. Friendly though it may be, the competition is fierce. I'm certain I'm the only one who hasn't done something similar to this and my beliefs are confirmed by the ease at which Finnick, Johanna, and Katniss scramble up and over the rocks as if it were second nature. I'm keeping up, but outmatched easily. If anything, I'm thankful I bought shoes with good traction.

"I'm going to have the biggest margarita I've ever had in my life Mellark," Johanna shouts from a flat terrace of stone above me, a grin splitting her slender face.

"Less yapping, more climbing Jo," Finnick yells back at her.

Katniss helps pull me up and over the last rock, just as the top of Johanna's spiky head disappears from sight, plummeting to the water below.

"On three or running start," Katniss asks, bouncing on her feet the way she does when she's nervous.

"Running start I think," I extend my hand. "You ready?"

She slips her fingers between mine in a tight grip.

"You jump, I jump, Jack," she says. I can hear Clove shouting at Cato below and it sounds like Rue yelling encouragement to her brother and when I look over the edge it is. Rue is scaling the cliffside with zero effort, already near to the top. Clove is crimson faced and cursing as Cato struggles to drag his hulking form over a rock. Katniss whistles gleefully at Rue who winks up at us.

"We better go," I remark. "That kid practically flew up."

"I like her," she says. "Let's go."

It's a short run to the wide precipice and then we're in the air, dropping like stones to the ocean below, and slicing into the deep. I do exactly as she said, bowing my back and keeping my arms spread, and she's right, I'm only under the waves for seconds the buoyant vest and the pull of her hand lifting me to the surface. Determined not to be dead weight, I let her go and begin the strongest stroke I can manage against the waves, towards the shore opposite us. Her strokes are smoother, steadier, but she never pulls too far ahead, just in case she has to tow me, which drives me to kick harder, swim faster. I won't drag her down. 400 feet hadn't sounded so long, but it is, it definitely is and the relief I feel when my feet hit bottom is almost euphoric. She hadn't needed to help me. I carried my own and as I see her giving various sand tools puzzled looks, I realize I'm about to show my worth. I yank the life vest off and toss it away. I watch a few seconds of Finnick and Johanna trying to stack shovel after shovel of wet sand to meet the four foot quota and smile. Drinks are not going to be on me tonight.

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For a second, I find myself fixated on the spectacle that is Peeta Mellark completely shirtless and dripping wet. Had Jo not dropped the f-bomb, their castle collapsing into a heap, I might have been caught in the act. I swallow thickly and look down at the tools. The sand castle was going to be harder than I thought, but Peeta seems confident, suddenly taking charge. I snag four flags, two shovels, and a few tiny hand tools that looked like pie servers in varying sizes, under Peeta's direction, as he grabs what looks to be a large trash can without a bottom and two buckets. We start by creating a raised foundation of wet sand that we stomp flat together.

"This will help keep it steady," Peeta explains to me, smoothing his hand over the now wide and even surface.

He places the bottomless trash can in the center of our foundation and we fill it alternating sand and water, until its full nearly to the top with wet sand. By then, Rue and Thresh are climbing up the beach, shedding their vests. I wink at a beaming Rue and Thresh high fives Peeta in greeting. I can see Clove and Cato bobbing in the waves, making their way, behind them other teams climb the cliff.

"Ok, I'm going to lift you up into the barrel and I want you to stomp it all flat, create compaction," Peeta tells me, stepping close. "Put your hands on my shoulders."

I dust my hands off to remove some of the sand and grip Peeta's broad shoulders. I struggle a little to bring my thoughts into a check. Just building a sand castle, nothing sensual about that. Nope. They're just shoulders, smooth, muscled shoulders, just keep looking at your feet, that's right. Nothing, you feel nothing, my that is some interesting sand. But I can't help it, the instant his hands tentatively contact my hips, my eyes jerk up to his. Holy shit Houston we have a problem! Too blue. The white of the sand reflecting in his eyes, lends light to the color making it brighter, just as blue-green as the water. He smiles cautiously at me.

"Alright," he asks and it's my imagination that made that one word sound somehow more huskily spoken than anything he's ever said to me. You're such an idiot. Get in the can.

"Mhhmm," I mumble.

"Up you go then," he says, lifting me up as if I really didn't weigh a thing.

"Alright, now put all those cheesebuns to work Everdeen," he jokes and the moment of stark tension I'd felt before dissolves into comfortable partnership again. I keep stomping around until he's satisfied. Watching Cato and Clove start their own castle. Marvel and Fox are the next on the beach, then Chaff and Boggs. I'm certain I see the copper fall of Annie Crestia's hair as she jumps from the cliff.

"Looking good Everdeen," Peeta says, "You can come down now."

I take his offered hand and jump before he can lift me down. Nonplussed, he lifts the can carefully, revealing a solid, smooth cylinder of sand, that combined with our platform base and future towers should easily make the four foot quota. He scrapes and slices at the sides, carves away at the sand like it's a block of marble with his little cake spatula, until the cylinder is a perfectly smooth rectangle. After that, he puts me to work with a bucket of super wet sand, making a tower in one corner as he starts another. I've failed miserably for twenty minutes as he manages to create three cylindrical towers out of the same sand soup mixture I can't get to work for me. I don't like to fail and I'm beginning to get frustrated. I can tell by the hesitant looks he gives me from under his lashes, that he wants to help me, but doesn't want to patronize me either, so he continues on adding detail to our castle with every little knick and swipe of his tools , creating windows, stone walls, spiraling stair cases, climbing vines. I'm awed, envious, and aggravated that I can't make one dumb tower. Finally, I give in.

"Ok, I can't take it anymore. Teach me please," I ask. "This sand is too wet. It's impossible."

Peeta comes around the castle to my side, inspecting the slurry of sand and water in my bucket.

"No, no it's perfect, you just have to be patient. Here, take a handful," he tells me clearing away the remnants of my past failures. "Put it here." He nods as I place the mound of dripping wet sand on the corner, but quickly covers my hand before I lift it. " Don't pull away immediately, leave your hand there a moment so the sand can set firmly." He lifts his hand, releasing mine. "Now again, right on top of that one. It's going to be ugly and misshapen as it drips together, but that's easy to fix with the tools," he explains and watches patiently as I stack handful after handful of sand until my tower matches his in height.

"Alright, here you go," he says, holding out his spatula tool. "Finish it up."

"You're kidding," I shake my head. "I'll destroy it."

"I trust you," he says. "Besides it's not as hard as it looks. "

I take the spatula reluctantly and carefully carve at my ugly little tower as if I'm defusing a bomb.

"You're doing great, be right back," he tells me and jogs off to where the waves are coming up on shore. Just as he's coming back I finish, grinning with satisfaction at the smooth pillar of sand that is all mine.

"See, not so hard, just needed patience. Come on, I need that artistic eye of yours Haymitch is always yapping about. What's a sand castle without sea shells," he asks, opening his hands to show me the collection of orange, white, and rosy pink shells he's collected from the shore. We spread them out all over the castle and it really is something to look at. I've never built anything close to this in all my trips to the beach. All we have to do is place the flags and the judges will come inspect our work. Peeta is just about to place the last one when I stop him.

"I've got one thing to add, " I say. "Wait just a second," I tell him, sprinting away.

Just up the beach were palms and flowering plants and from our spot I could see brilliant, bright orange flowers. I pick as many as I can hold and race back.

"For your vines," I show him as I run back up and they really do finish it perfectly. There's no way we won't pass inspection. He has me place the last flag and we wait with bated breath as the judges approach. Jo is covered in sand and red all over from either the sun or anger, but she and Finn are finally working on towers, but then again, so are Rue and Thresh.

"Nice job guys, cars are waiting just through that wooded area there," the lead judge informs us both, passing me a neon green envelope. "It's my pleasure to say you've finished today's challenge in first place, proceed to the checkpoint."

Peeta lets out a whoop of excitement and I rip open the envelope. Inside is the address to our hotel and room key.

"Thank God, I need a shower," I breathe.

"You kinda do," Peeta agrees jokingly. "I didn't wanna say anything." I elbow him and he groans dramatically, then winks at me. I've decided that the Odair wink has nothing on the Mellark wink.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

An hour and a shower later, I'm laid out on one of the two queen beds that fill our small, but elegant hotel room, devouring a plate of shrimp and scallops thankful that Peeta is not watching me eat. Instead the thrum of the shower is melding with the television, flipped to an old movie I don't recognize. Not only had he opted to shower last, Peeta had thankfully called room service while I showered and a veritable smorgasbord of snacks waited when I got out. I had debated on what to wear, but settled on the red cotton sundress Prim had insisted I buy specifically for the trip. It seemed "islandy". I had toweled off my hair and brushed it through before stepping out, the damp tendrils sticking to my neck and cheeks, and smiled at Peeta before declaring the bathroom officially his. The way his eyes had snapped up and over me appreciatively was rewarding.

"Nice dress," he'd said warmly, disappearing into the bathroom.

I'm trying not to think to hard on that now.

"Uh, Katniss.." Peeta's voice echoes from the bath.

"Yeah," I shout back.

"I forgot my bag, you mind bringing it to me?"

I choke briefly on a shrimp I'd suddenly tried to swallow without chewing. Dammit.

"Katniss?"

I swallow painfully and gasp for air.

"Coming," I croak.

I grab his pack from beside his bed and open the door to the bathroom.

"Um...are you uh...all decent in there," I ask tentatively before crossing the threshold.

"Curtain's closed Everdeen," he deadpans with a chuckle. I hurry in and set the bag down on the counter and prepare to scurry out.

"Wait!"

I freeze.

"My shower stuff is in the outside zipper pocket, can you hand it to me," he asks. "Please."

I unzip the front pocket on his bag and pull out bottles of shampoo and body wash. I flinch when I hear the shower curtain drag open.

"Relax, just the shoulders up, nothing you haven't seen before. Besides, I don't care if you see me," his voice is full of laughter. I turn around, the inner idiot girly girl that I'd always denied was in there doing mental back flips to find him dripping wet and grinning at me, those blue eyes glinting mischievously.

"Well, I do mind and if you hadn't always been such a gentleman, I'd think you did this on purpose Mellark," I tell him, stubbornly refusing to let my eyes roam any lower than his smile.

"First of all, not that much of a gentleman. Second, no, but it's not a bad idea and thirdly, it's your fault, the dress distracted me."

"Likely story," I smile at him as he takes the bottles one by one.

"And I'm sticking to it. Now, get outta here you pervert, you're getting as bad as Gary," he says, giving me a suspicious look and whipping the curtain closed. I hurry back out, closing the door, grinning like a complete imbecile, just as someone starts hammering on the door to our room.

"Unless you're screwing in there, open up," Jo's voice penetrates the heavy door. "Actually, either way's good, open up Brainless."

I whip the door open glowering.

"What is wrong with you," I hiss, my cheeks flaming.

She shrugs, smiling.

"What isn't," she replies. Her eyes dart to the bathroom door.

"Don't even think about it," I warn her as she comes in and I close the door.

"Think about what? What you're thinking about. Nice dress, not your usual...um...style if that's what you want to call what you have," she pokes fun at me.

"What's up Jo," I ask shortly as she inspects our room.

"Nothing really, just came to invite the winning team to dinner in town, something for the cameras, then I thought we could lead them back here, pretend we're going to bed, double back, and hit a club. I think Finn wants to get a second with Annie that Snow Corp Media doesn't have the rights to, besides we owe you drinks."

"Sounds good to me," I agree and when Peeta comes out he agrees right away.

Dinner is at an incredible little restaurant, right on the water. My amberjack fillet is delicate and flawless, it goes great with another helping of buttered scallops, that I couldn't resist ordering. I have Peeta try one and he agrees, they're probably the best thing he's ever tasted . He looks nice, in a white button down and navy shorts, his hair more carelessly styled than it had been the first day in the elevator. Rue and I discuss her other siblings and Prim, while Thresh and Peeta talk about basketball, which I learn is Peeta's favorite sport.

At one point, the remaining contestants raise our glasses to the team that was on a flight home as we ate.

"To Beetee and Wiress, may the odds be ever in their favor," Cecelia, Annie's equally pleasant teammate, toasts. Oddly enough, Beetee and Wiress had it where it counted brain wise but the swim, coupled with a creativity challenge had proved too much for them. They'd only just been beaten out by the glitter twins, who sat on either side of Marvel tonight.

Towards the end of the meal, Peeta's arm rests along the back of my chair and I find I like the occasional rustle of warm cotton across my bare back, the comfort of instant camaraderie, how he's there, but not pushy. I like that we worked so well together today, that he makes everything seem easy, and how kind he is to the other teams, Gary, the waiter, that taxi driver, Barney, that nearly killed us this morning, everyone. What I don't like is the heated stare Cato gives me over his drink. Peeta seems to notice too, his arm suddenly dropping around my shoulders.

"Save me a dance later," he asks and my eyes are drawn away from Cato's furious glare.

"Sure, you can have as many as you like," I agree, then whisper: "What's that guys problem with me?"

"From what I can tell his problem is mostly with me," Peeta replies.

I give him a quizzical look.

"He basically wants to drag you back to his cave by your hair and have his way with you, but I'm in the way."

"How is that," I ask.

"He thinks you're with me. Think about it, we've touched an awful lot today. We left the intro dinner early and together. I wouldn't swap seats. We're sitting here, right now, touching again, so he assumes me and you are a thing."

"I think it's a good idea for him to think that," I say. "I don't care for his attention very much. Maybe he'll give up."

Peeta shrugged, then leaned down so close his breath tickled the shell of my ear.

"So let him think it," He suggested.

"Doesn't bother you," I reply softly.

"Not even a little bit," he answers.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure."

After a long day and the promise that they could sleep in tomorrow, a day off from filming mostly, the camera crews were easy to ditch.

Three hours later the bulk of the cast for Around the World, had snuck out to a salsa bar on the beach. And Peeta can dance. Two drinks is all it takes to make me think I can dance equally well, and apart from brief, friendly spins around the floor with Finn and Thresh, I spend most of the night dancing and talking with Peeta and snappung candid photos of the cast. We're taking a breather at a booth over looking the floor, when Jo arrives with Finn and Annie in tow. She's carrying an entire bottle of Patron and shot glasses, and there is something very unnerving about her smile.

"I believe there's a prize to be claimed," she shouts, slamming the bottle and glasses down. "Hey buddy, lime wedges and salt, hurry," she shouts at a bar back.

"What are you on about Jo," I ask.

"You made a bet with me at the airport. The winner nibbles Peeta, remember," she replies making no effort to lower her voice, cramming a ten into the bar back's hand when he arrives with the lime and salt.

"Yeah, Jo, but I won." I remind her, gritting my teeth. What is she doing?

"Exactly and you didn't decide upon a different form of compensation for yourself and what was it Peeta said so eloquently? Nibbles are for winners. If you're feeling chicken shit Everdeen, you could always forfeit your prize to me."

Rue and Thresh join our audience and I give Peeta a hesitant look.

"Well, if you hadn't always been such a lady, I'd think you did this on purpose," he says grinning.

"So am I nibbling or are you," Jo asks. I fix her with a glare and she grins devilishly. "Lean you head back a little Mellark, the lady needs access," she tells Peeta. He fixes me with a smile, arches his brow, and leans his head back slightly.

"Been a while since college Everdeen, but I'm sure you remember how to do a body shot," she says and Rue giggles. Finn and Annie look entirely delighted. I slide closer to Peeta in the booth.

"You stop laughing at me," I order him, grabbing a fistful of the front of his shirt.

"Can't help it," he wheezes between fits of laughter. " Your eyes. You're so shocked." I promptly shut him up by dragging my tongue along his jawline to the junction of his jaw and ear and he goes completely still.

"Still funny," I ask grabbing the salt and sprinkling it before sanity can come back to me. His eyes are surprisingly dark when I look back at his face, but he doesn't answer before I dip my head back down, licking and nibbling my way up the jawline I'd admired more than a few years of my life, making certain to nip his ear gently for good measure before letting go of his shirt, throwing back the tequila, and biting into the lime, feeling the burn of the liquor and sweet citrus.

"Prize claimed Jo," I bite out, slamming the shot glass onto the table, but Peeta's hand wraps around my arm dragging back to his side.

"Not quite, I won twice today," he reminds me with a smirk, "It's my turn." His mouth suddenly colliding with the pulse point of my neck and my brain kicks into sensory mode as he mimics me, swiping his tongue up to my ear, before pulling away to add the salt, staring down at me as if me to argue. The girls catcall as he bends down to my neck again and my knees melt like butter, at some point my fingers slide into the blonde curls at the nape of his neck as he works his way up to my ear, biting down harder than I thought he would at the soft junction below my ear just as he finishes causing me to gasp. He tears away quickly, tossing back the tequila and bites the lime.

"I think I've had enough to drink, Katniss how about you," he says, pulling me out of the booth and onto the floor before anyone can say anything.

"Don't think about it," he tells me, spinning me out and back in. "Just harmless fun, between friends."

"Harmless fun," I echo, but I can't help but think it was a lot more than harmless. It felt a lot more like playing with fire. I dance. I laugh, but I can't do as he says, I'm going to keep thinking about it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I'm not certain if she's quiet to keep from disturbing people or if it's because of what happened at the club. I don't know what came over me. I should have shut Johanna down, wiggled out it, but years of self-denial had won out over my manners. When we reach our door, I feel like I have to say something before I do something stupid and ruin this.

I follow her in and close the door behind us.

"Katniss don't worry about earlier," I say, catching her arm and drawing her around to face me. "What's that thing you say to guys you don't want to sleep with, lay it on me," I tell her. For a moment, she hesitates and I'm certain I am going to do something very stupid that I've wanted to do for the better part of my life, when she grins at me.

"Fuck off Mellark I'm not sleeping with you tonight," she says her brows lifting with humor.

"That a girl," I praise. "Now, lets get some sleep and act like proper adults tomorrow."

We change and the lights go down and I listen to her breathing in the other bed and just as I'm falling asleep it dawns on me. She had very specifically stated she would not sleep with me...tonight.

Thanks for reading. Sorry again, about the delay. Hope I made up for it in content. Let me know what you think, WNW

*"You jump, I jump, Jack" is a direct quote from Gilmore Girls from my ffavorite episode by the same name...I love that line and will more than like, positively, use it again in some other work..