Hi! This is my first fanfic, I don't do much writing so I hope this is okay, it's about life after the games and the rebellion. Please review! :)
Two. Blue. Lines.
"Peeta." His name escaped my lips in a strangled cry. His position behind the bathroom door shifted, and his face came into view, eyebrows furrowed.
"Can you please tell me what's wrong?" he pleaded for the hundredth time in the twenty minutes it took for the test to work. And the millionth time since I staggered out the door to buy the damn test after being violently sick. He did this to me, yet he still didn't know. I threw the stick past him, and when he scrambled to retrieve it, I slammed the door and locked it, covering my ears to muffle the sound of his whooping. I pressed my back to the door and drew my knees to my chest.
"Katniss, this is amazing, I can't wait to..." he seemed to finally notice the shut door. Footsteps sounded and the door handle rattled. "Katniss, sweetheart, are you okay?"
"No," I whispered, barely audible even to myself.
"Katniss, please open the door."
"No!" I roared, turning around and pounding my fists against the wood so hard the vibrations ran through the floor. "This isn't what I wanted! I don't have time for a... A..." I couldn't say the word out loud; the first letter wouldn't pass my lips.
"A baby, Katniss," I could feel Peeta press against the door behind me, and he couldn't hide the joy, thick as honey, coating every letter that came out of his mouth. "We're having a baby."
This undid me. I twisted the lock and yanked open the door, glaring down at Peeta.
"We're having a baby? No. I'm having the baby." I pointed to where my uterus was. "You don't have to spend a year with another human stuck inside you, feeding off you like a leech!"
"Katniss," he said warily, slowly standing. "It's okay."
"It's okay? Oh yeah," I flung my arms in the air. "Everything is just dandy! I can't handle a baby Peeta!" My voice cracked, and angry, frightened tears made an appearance, blurring out his face. "I couldn't even look after them."
I didn't have to explain who they were; they appeared in every dream, every nightmare in the past ten years.
"Oh, Katniss." He pulled me in his strong embrace, trying unsuccessfully to shield me from the overwhelming sadness that was my life. He didn't remind me that he had lost everyone, too. His hand stroked my hair, the one gesture that I would always succumb to and relax. I leaned into his chest, tears threatening to spill over, and let him talk.
"You're going to be a fantastic mother. We're going to be the best parents he could ever dream of. He will love cheese buns and singing, and he'll love you. He will never have to know about the games, and we will keep him safe," he whispered, shaping my thoughts. I could picture a little boy, the exact replica of Peeta, chasing the mocking jays that perched in the lower branches, laughter bubbling through his lips. And I wanted him. I wanted this baby.
I wanted him bad.
"You should've lead the resistance," I murmured, my face buried in his shirt. He leaned down to kiss my head, and I could feel him smile.
"And why is that?"
"Because," I tilted my head up and kissed his jawline. "everyone agrees with you."
He couldn't contain his excitement. He placed his hand on my bare stomach, kissing me softly, still smiling.
"So that means you're okay with this?" he questioned, not leaving room for any doubt.
I couldn't show him how much this baby was effecting me.
"Only if you realize your feeding two mouths instead of one, now," I smiled, and he let out a laugh, giving an outlet to the happiness that welled up inside him.
"I'm taking you to the bakery today," he grabbed my hands and lead me out the door. "I want to show my beautiful pregnant wife off to the world."
We didn't make it past the front door before I had to rush back to the bathroom, everything left in my stomach making an unwelcome reappearance.