Summary: Peeta gives Katniss kisses over the years. (Week #4 of @august-anon's Tickletober prompts!! I've never written a Hunger Games fic before so let me know if y'all like it and/or want to see more!!)
The lights are blinding, and Katniss is struggling to keep that fake smile on her face. They’ve been standing, taking photos, being gawked at for what has felt like years.
Cinna has dressed her in gold. Peeta’s suit matches perfectly. He does look handsome, but she isn’t sure the color really does him any favors: The shimmer pops on her skin tone, compliments her dark hair and eyes, but Peeta’s pale and blonde and would probably suit silver more, she thinks. Not that she knows anything about fashion, nor does she care about how Peeta dresses. She only cares about how he’ll fight in the arena, and how his hand around her waist right now is really irritating. She wants nothing more than to shrug him off, to roll her eyes right at those cameras, to take all the stupid pins out of her hair.
Instead, she just stands and tries to look pretty.
Peeta’s head moves in her peripheral vision and she shoots him a confused glance, and then twitches when he presses a gentle kiss to her shoulder where the dress has left her skin exposed. No one has ever kissed her there, and goosebumps immediately spread over her skin. It doesn’t feel bad, but she still digs her elbow into his side in retaliation anyway, because he could have at least warned her that he and Haymitch were upping the affection quota.
When they’re finally free from the cameras and lights, and Katniss has shed most of her ridiculous outfit, Peeta comes and sits beside her, away from prying eyes.
“Sorry I kissed your shoulder,” he says, avoiding her eyes. “Haymitch and Effie have been trying to get me to…sell this whole love story thing. I should have asked you if that was okay first, I just had the idea in the moment and went for it.”
Katniss looks him up and down, the shyness in his body language and the genuinity in his tone, and her hard expression softens just a little. “It’s fine. Just…warn me next time.”
He nods, offering her a little smile. Then, after a moment of comfortable silence, he asks: “Did it tickle?”
“What?”
“When I kissed you. It seemed like it tickled.”
Katniss does roll her eyes now, ignoring the way her face feels suddenly warm under his scrutiny. “No, it just felt weird. And I wasn’t expecting it.”
Peeta has this stupid smile on his face that makes Katniss want to punch him. But, there are rules about tributes fighting, and she also doesn’t think she could really hurt him when he looks so innocent, so…She huffs and gets to her feet.
“So, you aren’t ticklish? I just think if we’re going to be allies, I should know your weaknesses, you know?” Peeta says, and he’s fully grinning now.
“Goodnight, Peeta,” she replies, refusing to turn back and let him see the way her lips have started to curl. Watching him try to find the light, the humor in this all, to get to know her even though it’s probable he will have to kill her…Well, those thoughts dampen her mood quite quickly.
The truth is, she is ticklish. Most of her experience with tickling has been her tickling Prim, and sometimes Gale tickling her, but she always fights him tooth and nail when he does it. He’s usually all rough hands squeezing her sides and scribbling behind her knees. What Peeta had done was different, it was gentle and made her stomach flutter…She supposes it would have felt nice, if they had been alone, and she had known he was going to do it, and could have prepared.
She falls asleep trying to ignore the little voice in her mind that wants him to do it again.
***
The sound of birds chirping outside the window is what wakes her.
Katniss blinks against the sunshine seeping into the room, and settles comfortably into Peeta’s arms that are wrapped around her waist. The morning is still, the children still sleeping instead of climbing into their bed with excited babbling as they do most mornings.
Peeta begins to stir beside her, and Katniss finds herself smiling as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Morning,” he mumbles.
“Morning,” she replies softly.
Peeta’s lips press a soft kiss to the skin of her shoulder, and then continues to pepper those little kisses up to her jaw and back down again. She’s giggling in seconds, having been unprepared for such antics so early. She’s still stubborn as she was as a scrappy teenager in the Seam, and normally when Peeta tickles her, she holds her laughter in and fights back, turning the tables or running off into the grass. She doesn’t have that chance now, lovingly encased in his arms and still too sleepy to launch an escape plan.
She doesn’t even remember the first time he pressed his lips there, back before the first Games, on that stage with the blinding lights. That feels lifetimes away, has been buried under much worse memories, forgotten. They are making new memories now, better ones.
“Peeta, we’ll wake them,” she says, trying to keep her giggling to a low volume.
Peeta just grins. “They’ll be up soon anyway.”
And with that, he starts tickling her belly with ten fast fingers, and Katniss has no choice but to dissolve into laughter. It isn’t long until the children are roused by the sound, curious as to what their mama could be finding so funny.
Now, she starts her day with genuine smiles, laughter, and love.
