Drabble Challenge

Day 12

"Imagine your OTP is wrestling over the remote."

Balancing a beer bottle atop my sandwich plate impressively, I traipse into the living room and plop down onto the couch. I can still hear Peeta's tuneless singing from the kitchen as he makes his own sandwich, and I smile at him.

"You know," I say, "most guys right now would be making some dumb joke about how I'm the woman and I should be making your dumb sandwich."

"But I'm not most misogynistic men," Peeta replies, then glances up at me, smiling. "And that's why you love me."

I roll my eyes playfully. "Don't push it, loser."

I flick on the television set, turning through the stations, until I find one I like, then silently congratulate myself on managing to select the one channel that still plays 'Drake & Josh'.

Peeta pads into the room a minute later, and I lift my plate off the end of the couch so he can lower himself down next to me.

"Damn, forgot the chips," I mutter to myself, then rise to return to the kitchen.

I grab the bag of potato chips I'd left on the counter before finding my place on the sofa again.

It's only when I'm lifting my sandwich to my mouth to take the first bite that I stop.

"Um..." I trail off, hoping Peeta- who now has the remote clutched in his hand- will get the hint.

He just hums at me in acknowledgement, not really hearing me, just alerting me that he knows I've spoken.

"Um, babe," I try again, then reach for the remote. "No, no."

He dodges my swiping hand, still fixated on the screen, and I scoff.

"Peeta!" I scold. "We're watching 'Drake & Josh'."

"Funny," he replies; his multitasking abilities are truly impressive, what with his eyes still glued to the television, "I don't recall us having an agenda for what shows we watch."

"Yeah, well, then, I guess you didn't get the memo. We're watching 'Drake & Josh'."

"We're watching 'Cupcake Wars'," he shoots back.

"Peeta," I whine, because he always seems to give in when I start whining, "it's the same series of events every episode. Please can we watch my show?"

He shakes his head and I huff in exasperation. Then I grab for the remote again and, just like last time, he pulls it away at the last second.

When he turns to me, an eyebrow raised, I know he's started something he won't win.

I push a hand to his face, forcing his head back, and grab the remote while his eyes are covered. He groans against my palm and I laugh smugly. Then I pull away my hand.

I'm just pointing the remote at the box below the TV when he reaches from behind me and snatches it from my hands again. I gasp and whip around, my steely glare meeting his blue eyes, twinkling with amusement.

"Peeta..." I warn. "I'm giving you one last chance. Give me the remote."

The grin stays on his face, and he just reaches out a finger and tweaks the tip of my nose, almost affectionately. I take it as a challenge.

I practically hurl myself at him, my arms linking around his neck and my legs, around his waist. Peeta yelps, but I just cling tighter to him as he topples over onto the couch and then rolls off onto the floor. He manages to come out on top, and he places both hands on either side of my head, hovering above me and smiling at me teasingly.

I feign surrender, returning his smile and placing a hand on the back of his neck to lower his face to mine. I fight a smile when he gives in easily.

Works every time.

A split second before our lips meet, I send my knee straight to his groin. He grunts pitifully, and I roll him off of me and flip our positions, plucking the remote from his loose grasp and clicking the station back to my show.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm sitting on Peeta's chest, my beer by my foot and my sandwich half-gone, enjoying a quality episode of 'Drake & Josh'.