The Nightmares Hidden in Dreams - A Hunger Games Fan Fiction

Croissants

There are 365 days in a year.

For me, those were 365 days of happiness.

I can count on one hand how many nightmares I have had the past year, and I know that it's because of the man who holds me, warding off my terrors every night.

On the 365th day since our toasting, I wake up, as usual, with a sense of contentment, one that exists without a concrete reason. My natural state has faded from one of grief to one of joy.

It's early, earlier than I usually wake up. Peeta is still asleep beside me, which is atypical. His arm hangs limp over my waist, keeping me from moving, but not caging me. I listen to his even breaths, watch his chest rise and fall. Softly, I place my hand over his heart, and feel it beating, proving that he's here, alive.

Real.

I gently move my hand from his chest to his face, brushing my thumb over his cheek, his lower lip. His eyelashes flutter slightly before he slowly opens his eyes. His gaze softens when it lands on me, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Morning," Peeta whispers, his voice low and husky with lingering grogginess.

I press a kiss to his forehead. "Morning." His lips tilt up in a smile. Neither of us says the word "anniversary," but I can see that he remembers just how important today is.

I inch closer to Peeta, hooking a leg over his. The arm he has around me tightens, then loosens again. Propping myself up on one arm, I lean over his face and pause a breath away from his lips. He inhales shakily, eyes flitting from my eyes to my lips, back and forth. Savoring the moment, I slowly bring my lips to his. He breaks the peace of the moment when he tilts his up to meet me, flipping me on to my back so he can settle above me. His hands travel the length of my body, over my hips, my waist, leaving me tingling anywhere he touches. His kisses set me aflame.

It's a perfect start to our anniversary.

➳➳➳

Downstairs, Peeta begins to reach into the cabinets to grab all sorts of ingredients. I watch silently from on top of the counter, drinking a cup of fresh hot chocolate. The sweet creaminess envelopes my tongue, warming me from the inside. More materials join Peeta's on the counter, and I jump back to the floor.

"Can I help?" I ask, getting on my tiptoes to reach a bowl. Peeta grabs it with ease and turns to look at me incredulously.

"You want to help me bake?"

"Why do you look so shocked?" I respond, though my cheeks are warm. "You think I can't do it?"

Peeta laughs, and I glare at him. "Tell me the recipe, I'll show you that I can do it."

Still laughing, Peeta hands me a recipe card. "Here, I have it memorized anyway."

I study the instructions for how to bake croissants. It doesn't seem too complicated, so I begin to add the ingredients into the bowl Peeta offers me. I mix everything together and find that I'm finished while Peeta is still meticulously measuring his own ingredients.

"See, I finished before you."

Without looking at my dough, Peeta questions, "Did you even look at the recipe?"

I scoff, "Of course I looked at it." Turning back to the task at hand, I skim the instructions until I find how to roll the dough into the proper shape. I do so quickly, and though they're a bit lopsided, they look edible enough.

I slide the tray in the oven and turn to Peeta to give him a smug look, only to realize that he's laughing silently. His shoulders shake with his laughter and I cross my arms over my chest.