Disclaimer: I wish I were the wonderful Suzanne Collins, but, alas, I am not. This is my first attempt at a Hunger Games fanfic, so take it easy on me? I'd love some feedback. This is probably going to be a two-shot, fyi...at least until I get the hang of Katniss/Peeta stories. I hope you all enjoy and please leave a review :)
"The Boy With The Bread"
I'm not sure how it happened, really. There was no precise moment where I suddenly thought "I'm going to marry Katniss Everdeen." At least not one that I can remember, anyways. What I do remember, however, is that I fell in love with the girl on fire before I was old enough to understand what love really was.
I was five when I first met Katniss...and, I think I knew even then. She was scrawny from lack of food, but not in an unflattering way; as if I could notice either way at that age. She was just a kid back then, but her eyes remain the same to this day: deep grey eyes that capture your thoughts whenever she looks into them. They were the first thing that I noticed about her, actually.
Or maybe it was her voice that I heard first? That seems to be true. She was singing that stupid song about a guy hanging himself, I think. Now I remember. "The Hanging Tree." She was around the corner of the elementary school, humming to herself, when I first heard her voice. Dad was dropping me and my older brothers off at school when I tugged at Poppa's sleeve.
"Who's that, Pop?" I asked, trying not to let my cheeks blush. I wanted to be the little girl's friend more than anything in the world and knew that my father would know of her. My father, I believed and still do to this day, was the smartest person in the whole Panem.
"Madge Undersee?" Dad asked, looking at the mayor's daughter two girls away.
I shook my head frantically. "The one with the braid." I said quietly, noticing that my brothers were watching us instead of getting to class. I knew that Rye, ten at the time, and Wheastly, fifteen, would tease me as soon as they found out, so I tried to be as subtle as I could.
"That must be Katniss." Poppa said with a bit of a longing in his voice.
"Katniss?" I asked, the taste of her name sounding perfect on my tongue.
"Everdeen. She's a Seam girl." Poppa said, that wistful expression still in his eyes. He turned to me suddenly. "You know, Peeta, I almost married her mother."
I frowned. Even though I sometimes resented my mother for being so strict, there was no way that I could ever even think about my father not with her.
"But if you wanted to marry her, why didn't you?" I asked, when I finally seemed to accept that history and present-day events didn't have to coinside.
"It's the lady's choice, you always remember that, Peeta." He had said sternly. "We might come from a little bit of money, but that doesn't mean that we should always get our way."
"Yes, Poppa." I agreed. Anyone with half a brain knew that...which is probably why Dad always kept his eyes on my oldest brother Wheastly whenever he brought home a girl.
"But...what's better than a baker for a husband?" I asked, repeating my mother's brainwashing; Mother looked down on Seam children and practically disowned Wheastly for going steady with one for a week.
"Katniss' father is a coal miner." Dad said, taking another look at my future best friend. "But, I think what made Lily choose him was his voice." I raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief and he chuckled. "When Jasper Everdeen sang, the birds stopped to listen."
I nodded, my own ears trying to listen to the constant chirping of birds, but heard not a single one while Katniss continued to hum to herself. That was the first moment that I realized that I might just be in love with her.
A bell rang overhead and my dad shoed me to my class. "Peeta, stay away from her." Dad cautioned and I turned back around to frown at him. "That Everdeen girl will be nothing but trouble if your mother ever finds out you want to be her friend." His blue eyes looked sad. "It'd be better for Katniss if you simply forgot about her."
I didn't give Katniss another thought after that. I could keep Katniss safe from my mother as long as I didn't want to be her friend. And it worked, for a while. I went through my schooling without so much as a glance at the girl who was slowly capturing my heart with forbidden songs in music class. It wasn't until six years later that I took notice in Katniss again.
Katniss jokes now and calls me the "Boy with the Bread" and I let her, because, if I'm being honest, that was when I knew that there was something worth fighting for about her. Forget what my mother thought about Seam girls or what my brother, Rye, would do if he found out. I knew that I had to help Katniss if it killed me...and it nearly did.
She was broken, even as a child, and though she lost a lot during the war and after the Games, it was when she was eleven years old that she truly felt the pain of the world on her shoulders. Her father had died and, in an instant, she had had to become the head of the household for her grieving mother and scared little sister.
There were no cameras making her cautious of her every move; no political leaders trying to spin her lifestory in a specific direction; she was just a young girl who had to grow up too fast in a world that wanted to destroy the little bit of fight she had in her.
I remember the beating I got for burning the bread for her to this day. We weren't rich, no matter what Seam children always assumed about the city kids, and wasting food was something that we were not allowed to do growing up. My face stung for three weeks after my mother slapped me with the rolling pin handy on the counter, but I didn't care. All I knew was that a frightened girl was outside in the rain scrounging through the garbage for food and I had two loaves of crisp, charded bread clutched tightly in my hands for her.
She didn't remember me when my name was called at the Reaping, and I guess I couldn't blame her, but I knew that it was my sole purpose in life to get her out of that Arena alive. I owed that beatifully broken girl that much, at least. Even though I wrongfully assumed that she had gotten betrothed to Gale Hawthorne, who was of marrying age at that point, I still loved her with everything that I had. That was why I told my father to bring her the cookies the night of the Reaping, as a sign of the goodness that the world still had to offer her.
She tried to kill me before we got in the Arena. I had just confessed my love for her when she stabbed me! If she wasn't so gosh-darn cute when she was angry, I would have fought back. Haymitch explained that it was a ploy to get sponsers, even though he knew that it wasn't, and she seemed to calm down. She even appologized! That surprised me. A tough girl like her apologizing? Never would I believe it in a million years. She had fought for what she earned her entire life and she deserved to take a swing at me for catching her so off-guard like that.
Looking back now, though, I realized that she was always surprising me. When I told her that I didn't want to be a pawn in the Games and wanted to go out like myself, she seemed genuinely confused even though that was exactly what she wanted too.
That's why she shot an arrow at the Gamemakers during training. That's why she sang to Rue and put flowers on the young girl's head who reminded her so much of her little sister. That's why she couldn't believe that I wasn't playing her when I announced that I had been in love with her since I was a child to Caesar in an interview. That's why she picked up the nightlock berries for both of us-because she was selfless enough to know that even if we both had to die, at least it wouldn't be because of the Games.
If we had died, we would have died together as ourselves and that's something that needs to be remembered. She might have been the figurehead for the Rebel Army, the literal Mockingjay, but she was always just Katniss to me. When people tried to use her for their own gain, she at least made sure that the people she cared about were treated well too.
I fought off tracker-jacker venom and the brainwashed urge to kill her because I knew deep down that I loved that girl. The Capitol used me to hurt her and I will never forgive them for that. She was always the strong, fierce, protective woman that is now out of the public eye for good. And if it is up to me, I hope that no one outside of our friends and family ever sees her again. Katniss was the Mockingjay a long time ago. Now, she's all mine. I've loved her for too long to ever give her up now.
"Peeta, what are you doing?" Katniss asked, sneaking up behind me in a way that only she can manage. Stealth is not my forte.
My cheeks blushed a light crimson and I hurried to cover the page I was working on.
"Nothing. It's nothing." I muttered. Even though I had had to do my fair share of bluffing and lying in the Arena, I had the worst poker face in the world. And Katniss could always see right through it.
Katniss rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure it is."
But she didn't press for more information. I knew it had to be eating her up inside, wanting to know what I was doing, but she also knew that sometimes I needed my space. Usually it was when I was deep in thought or painting; just like I knew she loved my company but prefered to hunt alone.
I sighed, running my hand through my blonde curls. "Come here."
Katniss spun on her heels, her bare feet making a hint of a sound on the hardwood floor as she did so, and her smile was smug.
"This doesn't count as you winning anything." I muttered, but she knew otherwise. Katniss was a survivor. She was going to win everything she ever did. And I loved that about her, too.
When she finished reading, she set the journal back down in front of me and lowered herself onto my lap, her dark hair falling to cover part of her face. "Peeta, what is this?" She asked quietly from against my chest.
"It's like the Dedication Book." I said lightly, trying not to kick myself when I felt her flinch.
We had worked for two whole years after we managed to piece ourselves back together after the war and had finally finished the memorial to those who had fallen around us: Rue, Prim, Cinna, all of the tributes that had fallen during the two years we fought in the Games, Jasper Everdeen because Katniss insisted that he wouldn't have died in the mines if the Capitol wasn't in control, and even a few of Haymitch's former rivals and family members.
I put a single family portrait of my own family in the book along with their names and ages when the bomb destroyed District 12 fourteen years ago: Wheatly with his wife, Dosa, their five year old twin boys, Wheastly Jr. and Farl, and three year old Bammy; my father, Bannock, and my mother, Anpan; Rye and his new wife, Ciabatta, who was pregnant with their first child. Katniss said that I should have written more about them, but I couldn't dwell on what wasn't here anymore like she could. I just wasn't that strong.
We haven't touched the Book in twelve years, other than to mourn by ourselves over the loss every now and again. I knew that Katniss looked at the pictures I drew of Prim and her father (from what memory she still had of him) all the time. I only ever had Katniss and my dad that truly mattered to me, and I prefered to leave the dead alone.
"Oh." Katniss said, trying to sound positive. "That's...nice."
I sighed, rubbing circles on her back. "It's for us, you know. So that we won't forget exactly what happened to us. With the Districts getting renamed and no one caring about remembering the Games, I figured that someone had to put the truth out there. Maybe one day..."
Katniss didn't let me finish, though. She kissed me intensely, her lips seeking out mine hungrily. Even though we were now thirty-one and no longer sixteen year olds like we were when our relationship began, I can honestly say that we are as in love now as we were back then. The only thing that could make our marriage better would be a child.
Unfortunately, I knew that she wasn't ready for a baby and probably never will be. But something inside me desperately wanted one with her; to create a family with the woman that I loved in a world that was now safe from all of the horrors that we had had to endure as children was something that I needed to have. Or else, how could it have all been worth it?
"I never want to forget us either, Peeta. This moment right now, right here, is perfect." Katniss said, pulling away from my lips as I caught my breath, our foreheads touching as we panted. "We should put this in our Family Book too."
I nodded, happy to agree with her.
"But I think I should be allowed to put my own account of what happened too. For the book." Katniss said, her expression changing to something I hardly recognized.
"I think that's a great idea!" I said, enthusiastically.
"I think that the baby deserves to know both sides of the story about the "Boy with the Bread" who fell in love with the "Girl on Fire" before she realized she felt the same way..." Katniss said coyly, pretending like she didn't just drop a bomb in my lap.
"B-baby?" I asked, my lips turning into a wide grin. It was too much to hope for.
Katniss stood up, her hands falling naturally on her hips in a defensive stance.
"I'm not even for sure," she began, but there was little doubt in her eyes, "but Greasy Sal says that I might be...and I spoke with my mother this morning."
"You talked to your mom?" I asked in disbelief. Ever since Prim died and Lily Everdeen went to live in District 4 where the hospital was being built, Katniss and I had only seen or spoken to her mother a handful of times over the years. Katniss didn't want someone who didn't want her, and I couldn't blame her for that.
Katniss nodded. "I wanted to tell you earlier...but then you looked so busy on that book thing."
"Have you told Haymitch yet?" I asked, pride bursting from my chest. My girl was pregnant! "Or Gale? What about Annie? Do Annie and Fin know?"
"No." She said, her face falling at my excitement, but I didn't see it. I grabbed my coat and was halfway across the living room to go tell our old mentor when I noticed that she wasn't following me.
"I'm not ready to get the word out yet, Peeta." My beautiful wife said as I was grabbing the door knob. "Stay with me?" Katniss asked, her face full of emotions.
"Always." I replied, running back to where I left her standing. I knelt down on the ground and started kissing her petite stomach where I knew that our baby was growing inside of her.
Whatever our life had in store for us, I knew that Katniss and I would be able to handle it. Afterall, we had faced death and betrayal, had uninentionally started and stopped a war, and had loved so deeply that even the bad stuff didn't always seem so bleak.