Better Games

9. I. Am. Not.

Peeta and I have lived together for four weeks now. We still have nightmares. I wake screaming from nightmares, less frequently than before but still, though his arms are there around me, protecting me further. He wakes up suddenly and silently from his own terrors of the night, but I'm always there to hold him when he does. But after all that...nothing has ever prepared me for this.

I woke up with Peeta sleeping deeply beside me. Peeta and I both usually wake up in the early morning together, him being a baker and me being a hunter. But today I've woken up before him, but instead of going back to sleep I decide to take advantage of my early start. I go downstairs and conjure up every memory I have of cooking or baking or anything I've watched Peeta do. I can cook broth, soup, the occasional dinners from my game, but this is breakfast, for Peeta, and I have to make something good. Cakes? I think. Pann-cakes. I've heard of the breakfast dish and the thought comes in my head when I try to think of anything related to baking. My father told me about them once, talking about days before Panem, before even the Dark Days, and so on.
"They were made of batter. Like the baker makes for his pastries," my father had said once.
"So cakes for the morning?" I ask so naively.
"Yes," he chuckles, "made in a pan I'm guessing. You ate them with the syrup I told you comes from the trees remember."
"I remember dad, I remember."
"Do you remember how they get the syrup from the trees?"
"From that metal tubes called a...stilee...a strile..a..."
"Spiel, Katniss."
"Right..," I laugh, "that's a funny word."
That memory helped me in the Quarter Quell. I had forgotten the use of that metal tube until I remembered what my father had told me about them. I smile in pain, my father...

Pancakes. Well I'll try it. I reach for one of the many cookbooks inside the kitchen cabinet. I look up a recipe for cake. I take out the ingredients that sound "pancakey" and pastry like and ignore the ones that involve icing and what not. I try my best to measure the ingredients into various bowls and soon realize I was never that good at numericals in schooling. I just had to do my best. Mixing the lumpy batter up, I heat a pan up to cook it on. What shape are pancakes actually? I had no clue. I decide to just fill the pan up to the brim with batter and flip it when one side was done cooking. I sit there with a 2 wooden spoons in my hand, hoping it's enough to flip it. How am I supposed to know if that side's done anyway? I think to myself. After a minute I decide to check. I try to flip the huge pan-cake with my two wooden spoons forgetting that I need another hand to grip the pan. I struggle with the he pan for a good while, switching spoons and gripping the pan to flip the massive thing while simultaneously knocking down every clanging bowl and whisk I've used. Crap! I silently scold myself. I did manage to flip the golden brown cakepan though. Wait this is no time for celebrating. I reprimand myself again as I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. I try to hide the pan behind me and the mess I've made, only to notice that I'm a mess myself. I have batter on my shirt and I feel it on my face too, from wiping my sleeve on my forehead from habit. Peeta rounds the corner before I even think of bothering to clean up the residue of the splattered batter from the mixing bowl.
"Katniss what are you-" he stops as he catches a glimpse of me. He then smiles to look me completely up and down.
"What are you doing all messy Katniss? Are you cooking?"
"...Surpriseee," I strain as I blush and look away, struggling to place the huge sloppy, yet golden brown cake. I turn the stove off and completely turn to face him again, only to see that he's standing right in front of me with a smile almost as big as my pancake plastered on his face. He swipes batter of my face and bursts out laughing.
"I'm sorry Katniss," he says in between chuckles, "you just look so cute covered in batter."
I scowl, trying to cover up the fact that he's right. "You're just jealous I made a great breakfast that you've never seen before." He looks over to my big sloppy cooked batter and looks back at me. Instead of laughing even more like I expect he wraps his arms around me and hugs me totally aware of staining his own shirt with batter residue.
"No. I'm thankful that you woke up early to do this just for me. Thank you Katniss." He pulls away and flashes that heart melting smile of his. Darn his smile. I think while I bite my lip to avoid grinning myself. Peeta unfortunately sees my struggle and takes advantage of it.
"There it isss," he teases, "there's that smilee. Come on Katniss you know you want to.
"You know you look adorably ridiculous," he sings as he tries to coax me into said smile, placing his forehead against mine.
"Peetaaa no." I state backing away from him. I'm smiling now but relenting to let him win.
"Thereee it iss," he grins following me, getting closer as I back away.
"Peeta," I giggle backing away even faster. He's stalking me around the kitchen even faster. He strikes and tries to grab me and I screech and run. "AHH PEETA STOP, STOPp" I laugh.
"GOTCHYA!" He yells as grabs me around my hips. I scream even louder. "PEETA NOT THERre THAT TICKLES!" I giggle. He lets go fast when I say not there, but as soon as I let the secret out there's no going back, I see it on his face. I know that look, and that's a look of mischief, I should know, I'm basically the queen. I run/ slip from out of the kitchen into the living room as he chases me. After a couple of dodges he finally catches me and tickles me uncontrollably. I laugh until my stomach hurts. He tickles my stomach and hip while nestling his face into my neck, finding another spot. After a we're both tired out he stops and we lay on the carpet floor together, him laying slightly on top of me.
"I can't believe the most stubborn girl, the girl who scowls just to make a point, the girl who refuusess to follow instructions, has this weakness. Your'e-"
"I'm not," I cut in before he can finish.
"Katniss, You. Are. Ticklish." I look over and see his smirking face. I roll us over so that I'm on top of him, forgetting that huge pancake, that mess, and everything else except my newly formed plan.
"But sir...you might be too," I finish. He looks at me with amused fear in his eyes as he tries to sit up on his elbows. Oh no. I think. He'll get his payback. Because until he admits it, Katniss Everdeen Is. Not. Ticklish.