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CinnTarc(?) And BeniLexi my beloved

(Pretend the height differences are becuz they're wearing high heels)

HOME IS WHEREVER YOU ARE TONIGHT𖥔 ݁ ˖๋࣭ ⭑🌱🌲

Fluff request: sleepy katniss demands to be carried by peeta

Word count: 1.3k

cw: none!

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It's late afternoon and Peeta is showing Katniss how to make muffins in her kitchen. He's talking her through the steps, carrying out each action slowly so she catches it, when Katniss begins to look around the room.

Save for the flour on the countertop, it's spotless. Everything is in order - the space is leagues away from the mess it was when Peeta first found her after his return from the Capitol.

Katniss can’t help but feel a little proud of how far she’s come since then.

“Still with me, honey?” The sound of Peeta placing the baking tray into the oven pulls Katniss out of her thoughts.

The girl hums noncommittally as Peeta's hand moves to frame her waist - brushing over where her stomach is far softer than it was all those months ago; warm and filled with food for the first time in forever.

He pulls her away from the countertop easily.

"What are we doing?" Katniss's voice is light- almost unrecognisable when she thinks back to the hoarse mess it once was.

Peeta pulls her close so that their chests are pressed together and her head is resting against his collarbone, "We're dancing, sweetheart."

(Katniss is hesitant to call it 'dancing', but when she looks up, Peeta looks so blissful and at peace, that she decides to keep her mouth shut.)

She and Peeta move around the kitchen slowly, bodies pressed together. There’s a smudge of flour just above his eyebrow, and Katniss knows that there’s probably some on her face too. But then Peeta sweeps her up in his arms; one arm around her back, the other under her knees as he spins her around and Katniss finds that she couldn’t care less.

Neither does Peeta apparently because the boy leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her lips like he hasn’t a care in the world.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “What’s on your mind, Kat?”

Katniss just shakes her head, nestling further into his arms. "Nothing really. What's on yours?”

Peeta hoists her a little higher up kissing her again sweetly. When he pulls away there’s a sunlit smile adorning his face.

“You’re on my mind. Always are.”

Katniss rolls her eyes at this but the way her heart starts thudding quicker in her chest is near impossible to miss.

“I love you,” Peeta murmurs then, and it’s so casual, so easy, that Katniss can’t help but feel a little envious of his openness. She smiles back and dips her head.

“You’re a sap.”

Peeta kisses her temple swiftly and grins, “Only for you, sweetheart. Only for you.”

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That night, dinner is warm muffins and milk on the couch. Katniss’s legs are in Peeta’s lap as he chatters to her about his morning at the bakery.

The girl is only half listening so Peeta’s words wash over her easily - she focuses instead on the way his soft blonde hair curls a little at the nape of his neck and his blue eyes light up when he laughs. When a badly stifled yawn escapes her, the boy cocks his head and smiles.

“Tired?”

There’s no point lying to him, so Katniss doesn’t even try.

“A little.”

Peeta takes her mug from her hands and places it on the countertop before crouching in front of her.

“C’mon then. Let’s get you upstairs.” He brushes her hair back and Katniss leans into the touch, covering his hand with her own so it cradles her face.

“Carry me?” Tiredness can make Katniss Everdeen incredibly bold sometimes, and the girl can't find it in herself to care.

With anyone else, she’d be nervous about asking something like that. But this is Peeta, so when her request registers, the boy smiles softly and nods.

“Always.”

Placing an arm around her back and the other under her knees, Peeta scoops Katniss up into his warm arms for the second time today, carrying her upstairs with such care that Katniss thinks she might just be seconds away from melting on the spot.

He sits Katniss down on the bed in their room and gets back up, moving to rummage through their closet.

“You’re sweet when you're tired.”

Katniss sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation and Peeta snorts, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“I take it back - you’re fearsome.”

And then he’s laughing, and peppering her face with tiny kisses and Katniss giggles too - a small girlish sound that she woulnd’t have been caught dead making a few years ago - pushing him away gently as her face warms.

Peeta places the shirt she’s been wearing to bed on the comforter beside her before stepping away and beginning to change out of his own clothes.

Katniss makes a halfhearted effort to get changed before flopping backwards on the bed.

“I’m too tired.”

(She’s not really, but the sound of Peeta laughing in response makes her heart soar.)

“Do you need some help?” He comes over and gestures to her legs, or more accurately, the sweatpants she’s still wearing.

Katniss nods, and Peeta kneels in front of her, pulling the sweatpants down her legs easily.

She’s struck by how normal it feels. The domesticity of it all - the sweet intimacy of his actions. There was a time when Katniss would have shied away from his featherlight touch but tonight she finds herself revelling in it.

“Arms up for me, sweetheart.”

Katniss obliges and Peeta pulls her shirt off, replacing it with the one he’d left beside her.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She’s shocked by how much emotion her voice carries, but Peeta just grins down at her.

“Always.”

Then, he pulls back the comforter and helps her slide under. Katniss doesn't protest at all - just lets him tuck her in and press his lips to her forehead as she shuts her eyes.

She’s almost in the warm embrace of sleep when she hears Peeta shuffling around the room, bare feet padding against wooden floorboards quietly.

(He has always been heavy-footed, but she can tell he's trying to make as little noise as possible).

"I'm so proud of you, Katniss. I'm so, so proud of you all the time, sweetheart. I should probably tell you more often."

It dawns on Katniss then that he must think her asleep, and her suspicions are confirmed when his soft voice drifts across the room and wraps itself around her like a lullaby.

Katniss can almost hear the smile on his lips as he mumbles.

"You're real pretty, you know that, Katniss? Real pretty. Leave me breathless all the time. I wish you'd see it too. You are so, so beautiful." His voice is closer now, and Katniss feels his hand brushes featherlight against her cheek as he speaks.

"I wish you'd let me paint you. I'd put flowers in your hair, maybe daisies?" A soft snort follows, "Who am I kidding, you'd never let me do that."

He lies down next to her then, wrapping his arms around her waist easily and moulding himself around the curl that her body forms.

Katniss knows, she knows, that she should say something back. Thank him for his words, maybe. Tell him that she's proud of him too. Everyday.

But it's Peeta who has always been the one with the sweet, loving words. A boy practically brimming with soft, kind reassurances and easy proclamations of devotion. Katniss on the other hand has never been very good at finding the right words and knowing when to use them or at explaining how she feels.

Still, when she hears his breathing even out, the words fall out of her mouth - whispered under the moon’s watchful gaze as Peeta sleeps. Katniss takes the hand that’s on her waist and brings it up to her lips - dusting a kiss over his fingertips.

“I love you too, Peeta.”

If someone denies that Sal Fisher does not like his nails painted different colours, that's okay we have different opinions. He loves it when his s/o paints his nails different colours (black, pink, etc.) 🎭💙