Author's Note: Hello, readers! This is my first story in a long time, and my first ever Hunger Games story. Sorry if I am a little rusty. Of course, I do not own the Hunger Games, and I make no money from this story. Enjoy and as always… Review!

Laughter is the Best Medicine

As I sit next to the pond with a sack of squirrels and fowl at my side, I play with the string of my bow absent mindedly. I pull it back gently with my thumb and let it go. When it leaves my grasp, the string makes a humming sound. I see a frog leap from the mossy bank and plop into the murky water.

The frog brings back a memory I haven't thought of in years. It's a pre-reaping memory. My father let me swim in the pond. While swimming, I caught a frog. Its slippery skin was cool to the touch. I slipped it in my pack when my father wasn't looking. We trekked back to our old house. My father immediately went to kiss my mother and to give her the fresh game to prepare for dinner. I waved Prim over motioning for her to be quite. She tiptoed across the room, and I pulled the frog from my sack. She gasped and leaned forward to stroke its slick back. We were so focused on the green creature that we didn't hear my mother approach. She caught sight of the frog and screamed.

In the commotion, the frog jumped from my fingers and continued to hop around the room, leaping from surface to surface. My mother backed into a corner shrieking for us to catch it. My father couldn't help but laugh at her terrified face. Prim and I were rolling on the floor with laughter, too.

I am pulled from my memory when Peeta sits down beside me.

"I thought you might be out here," Peeta says as I look over at him.

"Do you think I will ever laugh again?" I ask Peeta.

"I don't remember you laughing much ever. Real or not real?" Peeta replies. I look over at him afraid that he has had another memory slip but then I see the small smirk on his lips. I nudge him.

"Not funny."

"Really, Katniss, when something is really, really funny, you will laugh again. I promise. You won't be able to help yourself," he answers. I scoot closer to him and rest my head on his shoulder.

"I hope you're right."

…

The next morning I wake up with the sun streaming through the blinds. I stretch under the covers and roll over to find the space next to me empty. I clutch at the sheets, panic building in my chest. I jump from the bed, but as soon as I open the door to rush downstairs, the smell of cinnamon stops me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Peeta must be downstairs baking cinnamon rolls. I decide to let him finish in peace. He is serious when he bakes.

I go to my bathroom and strip out of my sleep shirt and underwear. I let the warm water and soap run down my scarred body. I step out of the shower and comb out my hair. I pull on a dark green silk robe. As much as prefer my hunting boots and father's jacket, this robe is my one luxury. The silk is soft and soothing on my skin and the color reminds me of the woods. I consider putting on real clothes before going downstairs. A small part of me still becomes extremely self conscious when thinking about naked bodies, especially my own naked body, but I know I am being silly. There is nothing Peeta hasn't seen at this point. In the long months following the fall of the Capitol, Peeta hasn't spent a night in his own bed. We need each other to chase away the nightmares. Now that I know I won't lose him, I have finally begun to let myself love the boy with the bread. We lose ourselves in soft touches. I finally understand the feeling I felt on the beach and in the cave in the arena. When we are alone, without all of Panem watching, the feeling is even stronger, and together we discovered how to stoke the feeling to its full potential until it washes over us like a strong wave.

I head down to the kitchen. Peeta is working on icing the warm cinnamon rolls. I hop up on the counter in front of him landing next to the tray. Peeta looks up and smiles at me. I swipe icing off a roll and lick it off my finger.

"Hey!" Peeta snaps and he scoots the tray further down the counter. "These aren't done yet." He scowls, but the effect is lost as he holds the remaining tube of icing in his hand and a blob falls on the counter. I swipe it up with my finger and wipe it on his cheek.

"What are you going to do about it? Besides, we are just going to eat them anyway," I explain as he moves in front of me. He leans toward me and puts his hand on the counter, one hand on each side of my hips.

"Clean it off," he says. I raise an eyebrow at him, but I lean forward and kiss the icing off his cheek.

"There…" I start, but he captures my mouth in a kiss, and I forget my retort.

One of his hands finds the back of my head, and his fingers tangle into my hair. I cup his face with my hands and kiss him back. As the kiss deepens, I feel the tie of my robe start to open and reach to tighten in, but Peeta stops my hands and pushes the fabric off my shoulders. I feel exposed being in the kitchen, but when he begins to kiss my collar bone, I forget my misgivings. A small sigh escapes my lips and my fingers grip at the waist of his pants. I graze my fingers inside the band and feel his warm skin. He groans and lifts his head kissing me on the mouth again.

The sound of breaking glass almost makes me jump out of my skin. Peeta and I turn our heads quickly to the sound. Haymitch stands in the kitchen doorway a broken liquor bottle at his feet.

"Hell fire! I am too old to see this shit. And in the kitchen? You made me break my damn bottle. Do you kids have no decency?" Hamymitch rants. During his tirade, I jump from the counter and grip my robe tightly around my neck. Peeta awkwardly adjusts his pants.

"Maybe you should learn to knock!" I begin to yell as Haymitch covers his eyes with his hands, but Peeta grabs my hand and pulls my out of the kitchen and into the hall. I can hear Haymitch shouting in the kitchen about knocking, kids, and alcohol as I follow Peeta's lead. We continue until the end of the hall, and he pulls me into the spare closet locking the door behind us. Peeta lets go of my hand and bends over grasping his knees, shaking. Again, I think he is having an episode, but when he looks up with a flushed face, gasping for air, I realize he is laughing.

"Did you see his face? Poor Haymitch." Peeta gasps. He stands up straighter and in a very poor imitation of our mentor, Peeta says, "I'm too old for this shit. Do you kids have no decency?" His body continues to shake with laughter, and he grips his side.

I feel my own body start to shake. I reach up and touch my face and feel tears on my cheek. I must have been laughing the entire time, but only now do I hear it. It echoes around the tiny closet and mixes harmoniously with Peeta's deeper laugh. Peeta takes my waist and pulls me to him. I grip his shirt to keep my balance as I continue to laugh. I lay my head against his chest and feel the rumble of his own laughter. We stay like that for what feel like years. Until my sides ache and I can barely breathe. I look up at Peeta, and he looks down at me.

"See. I told you. When something is really funny, you would laugh again," he says. I smile and pull him in for a kiss then break away sliding my hands down his chest back to his waistband.

"Now, where were we before Haymitch so rudely interrupted?" I ask. Peeta chuckles and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he pins me against the closed closet door.

"Right about here," he whispers as he leans down to kiss my neck. He trails kisses from my neck down to my collar bone and then pushes aside the silk of my robe to kiss my breasts. I gasp when he takes my nipple in his mouth. I remove my hands from around his neck and shrug off my robe. I then reach for the hem of Peeta's shirt and pull it up over his head. He lifts his arms and discards the fabric on the floor gently setting me down in the process. While my feet are on the floor and Peeta's arms are tangled in the fabric of his shirt, I rid him of his pants. He lifts me up and again, I wrap my legs around his waist as he lowers me on top of him.

I moan quietly when he enters me and I hear him gasp. I used to think the feeling would get old, but it never does. We begin to move in our now familiar, steady rhythm. I grab at his hair, and he peppers kisses on my jawline. Peeta picks up the speed of his trusts and balancing me against the door, keeping one hand firmly on my behind; he reaches between us and rubs the knot of nerves at the apex of my legs. I feel myself fall to pieces in his arms, and he follow closely behind me.

Once we catch our breath and come down from our high, Peeta 's stomach rumbles and we remember the cinnamon rolls waiting in the kitchen. I dig through the closet and find some suitable clothes as Peeta redresses himself. We head back to the kitchen and find Haymitch sitting at the table with his feet propped up, finishing off what appears to be the last cinnamon roll.

"You're still here?" Peeta asks in disbelief.

"And you ate all the rolls!" I accuse.

"Of course, and dammit I deserved these rolls after the emotional scarring you two put me through with your little peep show."

As he says peep show, I catch Peeta's eye, and we are laughing again, as Haymitch grumbles "I don't see what's so amusing."