Title: Small Comforts

Rating: M

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins – I'm just using the story for fun and no profit!

Summary: A Peeta/Katniss scene from Catching Fire while Peeta stays the night in Katniss's room.

A/N: I finished Mockingjay last night and felt like writing a Hunger Games fic (this is my first one!) It's just a short scene I wanted to write.

I lie in bed in my compartment, willing the sound of sharp, staccato gunshots out of my head. Even though I saw the old man only mere moments, his face is one that will never leave my mind. I know that years from now, when even the despair-filled memories of the days in District 12 when Prim and I were slowly starving to death have softened and slowly shifted out of focus, the man's face will be sharp, the edges cutting into my thoughts, forcing me to remember.

I lay in the silence, anticipating the sound of the locks sliding into place that I know will happen in a few minutes. But before that happens, I hear the soft noise of the door knob turning, it's metallic sound slicing through the silence.

I watch silently as Peeta quietly closes the door and pads across the room to the far side of the bed. I feel a slight dip behind me before one warm arm encircles me. I place my own over his stronger one now draped over my waist. At this, his arm flexes and I feel him pull me back into his chest, lifting me just slightly off the mattress.

I say nothing and Peeta also remains silent. There's nothing to say. We both know what we were witnesses to today, although why it shocks either of us, I am not sure. We've seen the horrors of the Hunger Games - seen young children rip apart other young children year after year on our screens at home, which is nothing compared to seeing it in person. The biggest difference is that in the arena, everyone is fighting each other – there are no execution-style killings. It's just constant fighting, self defense, and self preservation.

The old man was not fighting, at least not in a physical, violent way. He was not attacking, leaving the guards no choice but to kill him. His death was an execution. And now I can't get it out of my head. I know my sleep will not be peaceful tonight, even with Peeta's comforting arms wrapped around my shaking body.

I close my eyes and squeeze them tightly, hoping that if I can shut my eyes tight enough, I can shut out the images that have been haunting me since this afternoon. I feel Peeta shift and he bends his elbow, bringing his hand up to cup my shoulder. He lightly strokes the skin there and I feel goosebumps rise. My sensitive skin isn't used to this kind of affectionate touch, being more accustomed to things like the feel of rough tree bark or scratchy, soot-covered tunics. It can stand up to the coarse, hard things but one gentle caress from Peeta immediately ignites it and I'm once again the girl on fire.

I fight it. I can't let one touch be the end of all sane thought for me. Not that my thoughts would necessarily be considered sane with how all my mind can do is reply a man getting shot point blank in the head. Another moment later my mind blanks completely as his hand drifts over to my collar bone and lightly touches along the too-prominent bone.

Rather than give in to what I want, I draw up my knees and curl into myself as much as I can. I feel Peeta's arm tighten, not in a way that makes me feel trapped but in a way that holds me together. And he knows this.

"Katniss," he says softly, and I know what he's asking.

But I've never spoken of the kind of feelings boiling inside of me right now to anyone. All I can do is shake my head, close my eyes, and clench my jaw to halt the tears that threaten to escape. And I know if they start, they will not easily be stopped.

Even without receiving any verbal answer, Peeta does exactly what I need him to and takes control. His hand moves from my collarbone to my shoulder and I feel his other hand on my back. The hand on my shoulder pulls me towards him while his other hand guides me around, and I realize he is gently maneuvering me until I lay facing him.

"I'm here," he says and those two words manage to undo me. Not just because I am realizing just how far in we are and how much is at stake or because I'm scared, but because I realize fully for the first time that Peeta really is here. That I'm not completely alone. It's a completely alien knowledge to me. Of course I've always had Prim and Gale and in other ways even the people of the Hob have been there, but the Hunger Games have soiled those relationships, somehow managed to make negate them by the very fact that I was a participant.

I once again curl forward but find my knees blocked by Peeta's legs. His hands move to catch my face before I can fully bury my chin in my neck. He holds my face in his hands for awhile, then seemingly without even thinking bends forward to lightly kiss each of my cheeks. I close my eyes and sigh, unconsciously turning my face towards him. I feel his smooth lips gently touch upon my eyelids before moving down and lightly moving over my lips.

Once again the flames ignite and I can't stop my mouth from parting slightly and my lips moving against his. His response is immediate and I feel his left hand tight in my hair before moving down to grip my shoulder. It roves to my back and he once again pulls me close.

When my hand goes to his back and tangles in the shirt he's wearing, his lips get more resolute and I match his fervor. Just as my hand reaches his hair, his tongue caresses my bottom lip and I can't stop my gasp of pleasure, which allows Peeta's tongue gain access to mouth. Unsure, I venture my tongue forward, shyly meeting his, which encourages him even more. I grow bolder, and wrap my arms more fully around him, not able to get close enough.

In one smooth motion, he rolls us so he now is over me, balanced on his forearms. He looks down at me for a moment and I can almost pretend that we are not at this moment on a Capitol-owned train on our way to the next District and the next horror that awaits us. One of his hands finds the side of my face and his fingers lightly play with my hair before he leans down and kisses me. His entire body goes into the embrace and I become very aware of his solid chest pushed against mine and our bodies joined below.

Our pace gets more and more frantic and soon are pulling impatiently at each other's clothes. Once I am beneath him with nothing obstructing his view, he pauses again. I am already uneasy enough around naked bodies but am even more self conscious when it's my own. Just as my hands reach to cover my nakedness, his move to intercept mine. He catches my wrists in his hands and slowly raises them above my head.

"You are beautiful, Katniss. Please don't ever hide from me," he whispers. His blue eyes stare intently into my grey ones.

And I know from that moment on I won't. I can't. How can I deny him that when he's given me so much? But beyond that, the idea of Peeta admiring my body and wanting to use it to show his love makes me shake in anticipation.

He bends his head once more to kiss me and I'm more than the girl on fire now – I'm the woman inferno. Above me, Peeta's body moves and I feel him at my entrance. His hands still hold my wrists and the only movement available to me is to push my body against his, encouraging what he's started. He releases my hands and one goes to my hair while another grips my hip as he pushes in. He's slow at first, both of us adjusting to the wonderfully foreign feeling before our pace once again increases and we're moving at a crazy tempo.

We continue this until the inferno consumes both of us and he collapses, his body covering mine. His weight is welcome though in the mass of unintelligible thoughts in the aftermath – a nice reality that brings me back to my senses. He shifts to lie by my side, his fingers lightly stroking my hair. He watches me and I return his gaze. I've never been good at articulating my very personal feelings but the words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

"I love you." I say it quietly and calmly and he, to my surprise, does not appear shocked at my confession.

"I know," he says simply.

And I know I should also probably know that he loves me but after my vulnerable confession, I feel self conscious and watch him, not able to help but wonder if he has lost the deep feelings he seemed to have for me once.

One of his hands moves to cup my cheek. "I love you Katniss."

And incredibly that's all I need. The slightly crushed feeling in my chest immediately eases and I sigh before closing my eyes and listening to the sound of his breathing as I begin to let sleep overtake me.