Puppet Strings

Chapter Three

"It wouldn't be very ethical," said Peeta. A giggle bubbled up in his throat when Cato started kissing his neck. "Although it does sound fun. Life isn't all about sex though. We can still have fun without sex."

"Oh yeah, sure," Cato replied. "I wish I could take you to work with me, it would be amazing."

"Why don't you then?"

"You're not ready for it yet."

Right. What could this mystery job be? Why did Peeta have to be ready for it? Worry churned in Peeta's gut like a sickness as he tried to figure out what it could be that Cato did all day. Maybe half of the time was taken up in the Arena but the secrecy of Cato's second job still hung over Peeta's head like a dark cloud.

"Cato, please tell me what you do?" Peeta stared into Cato's dark, green eyes, trying to find the answers to all his questions in them. He threaded his fingers through the short blond hairs on Cato's head and brushed them back from his eyes. "What can be so bad? I really like you, surely whatever it is can't be so bad that you won't tell me."

Cato smiled affectionately and took a hold of Peeta's hand. He turned his arm around and kissed his wrist gently. "I wish I could tell you, really, I do. You're just not ready for it just yet."

Peeta grimaced. "I'm not made of glass, Cato, stop treating me like that. I can handle it."

"You're far from glass," said Cato. "I know that. You're too soft in particular places to be made of glass." He walked his fingers up along Peeta's outer thigh, taking a gentle hold of his butt and using the leverage to pull him closer. Peeta chuckled and nestled his face into Cato's chest.

"Then just tell me," Peeta said as gently as he dared.

Cato wound his fingers around the back of Peeta's neck and drew his face towards his own, if they could get any closer, that was. "You have to have faith in me and believe that I will tell you eventually."

Peeta sighed. Cato was closed off about the topic, he could sense it. The fact that Cato wouldn't tell him anything still, after so long together, was annoying. Peeta tried to find something to say but couldn't find anything even remotely feasible. Cato seized his lips in a strong kiss. When he pulled away, Cato quirked an eyebrow and grinned. Peeta smiled back, a hot blush staining his face.

"I want to tell you," Cato repeated. "I just want to be sure you'll be able to handle it."

"How bad is this job?" asked Peeta. "Please tell me, go on."

Rolling his eyes, Cato asked, "Are you going to listen to me, Peeta? Or are you going to keep pressing?"

Maybe Peeta wasn't so sure about when to press and when not to press. But this was something that had been wringing Peeta's head in ever since Cato started disappearing every day. Although . . . Cato was very happy. Or he seemed that way anyway. "Of course I've been listening," said Peeta. "I just don't understand . . . You know what? It doesn't matter."

Cato's smile widened. "You're right," he said, "it doesn't." He folded Peeta into his arms and rested his chin on his head. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes, I trust you," Peeta said. "Of course I trust you."

"Good." Cato sealed the conversation with a kiss. He had just rolled over so he was on top of Peeta and kissed him fiercely when his mobile buzzed. Peeta took the moment Cato slipped off the bed to grab his phone to sit up and breathe. "If this is Marvel I'm going to fucking kill him."

"Marvel?" asked Peeta.

"He's from work."

"Oh, I see."

Cato flipped the phone open and sat on the edge of the bed. "What? Marvel, I swear, if this isn't important, I'm going to"-Cato paused, listening to the voice on the other line-"What? Right now? I can't believe it." Peeta brushed the wrinkles out of the quilt covers and tried not to listen to Cato's conversation. He couldn't hear the voice on the other line but whatever he was saying wasn't having a positive effect on Cato. "You seriously can't do it without me? Oh for fuck sake, whatever, I'll be down in a few minutes."

When Cato hung up, he looked at Peeta in exasperation. "I have to go."

"You just got back," said Peeta.

"I know but there's been an unexpected shipment and the guys need me to help sort it."

So Cato's job involved shipments. What could that possibly mean? Tired of trying to figure it out, Peeta simply leaned against the wall and huffed. "Fine, whatever. Go on ahead."

Cato narrowed his eyes. "You're mad with me."

"No, I'm not," said Peeta, not even making an effort to hide his anger.

Noticing this, Cato sidled up to Peeta and said, "Yeah, you are. Come on, tell me what's wrong."

"It's just . . ." Peeta trailed off, picking at the bed covers with his fingers. "All you ever seem to do when you get back is want to have sex and when we do have sex, you just leave. It makes me feel . . . cheap. Like all I do around here is wait for you to come home, fuck me, then leave again. I feel like all you want from me is sex."

Cato sighed and wound an arm around Peeta's shoulders. "I don't want to only have sex with you," he said. "You're my Peeta, of course you're more to me than just a sex object."

"It'd be nice if you proved it once and a while," Peeta muttered. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin against them. Cato pulled Peeta closer to him and rubbed his back comfortingly.

"You should know that you're more than that. It's just . . . my job . . . I'm always so busy. Whenever I get back I'm just so happy to see you, I want to show you how much you mean to me in the only way I know how. Which just so happens to be in a sexual way. I love you, Peeta. You have to know that. I'm not just in this for sex," said Cato.

Peeta's lips twitched. "You've never said to me before."

Cato nuzzled his head into Peeta's neck and smiled sheepishly. "I know," he said.

Suddenly filled with excitement, Peeta leaned back to look Cato in the eyes. "I love you too," he said.

Cato's face lit up and he framed Peeta's face in his hands. They kissed, pouring every ounce of love and passion they felt into it. Suddenly all of the anger Peeta felt disappeared. He pulled away from the kiss and said, "You go on to work. I'll be here, I promise." Peeta smiled. "I love you." He was never going to get sick of saying that.

Cato smiled back and gathered Peeta into his arms for a quick hug. "I love you too," he murmured. "I'll be back as fast as I can, I promise."

"I believe you," Peeta mumbled.

When Cato left, for once Peeta felt uplifted. He couldn't believe they finally said 'I love you' to each other. And Cato had said it first. Of course he didn't want him just for sex! He had just been paranoid. Their relationship was perfectly healthy, of course it was. Peeta knew he had to stop being so suspicious of Cato. Why did he distrust him so much? He had to cut it out. The only person messing up their partnership was him.

Peeta climbed out of bed and immediately crumpled. Tendrils of pain crawled out from his hips and seized hold of his ability to walk. He had to sit back down before the pain got too intense and looked down at himself. The bruises were getting worse. They seemed to be getting darker and angrier looking. He'd have to ask Cato to ease up next time and maybe be a bit gentler.

Bruises weren't that bad. It wasn't like Cato was beating him up or anything. They were accidents. Cato was a good guy. He was. He wasn't hurting him on purpose. Their relationship was fine. It was.

Why was he pushing this thought so hard in his head? It was almost like he was trying to convince himself of something. Convince himself that Cato was a good guy who didn't mean to hurt him. Why did he have to do that?

A part of him already knew the answer.