Author's Note: Part two, guys. This one's really snippety, just a snapshot of daily life.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or any characters. All credit (except children's names) goes to Suzanne Collins.
I open my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the bright morning sunlight streaming through the window. It's a lovely day outside, I observe as I look out on the garden. I can see the Primroses lining the path up to the house. I can see the veggie patch that Prue loves so much – even if her produce isn't always show quality, I have to say it's impressive for a six year old. I can see the oak that Peeta and I planted in the first year we were married. It's getting big now. The grass looks soft, like your feet would get lost in it.
I stretch, curling and uncurling every limb whilst yawning. I notice the empty space beside me, and then the noises coming from the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread reaches me and I sit up, drinking in the glorious morning sensations. At that moment, Prue walks in holding a tray.
"Good morning Mommy! I brought you breakfast," she says excitedly. I smile and help her as she tries to set the tray on my lap.
"Wow, Prue, this looks amazing," I say, "did you make this?"
"Yes, and Daddy helped me." She looks up at me through her long eyelashes, under which hide her striking blue eyes. She has her father's eyes.
"Did he? Where is Daddy?"
"He's in the kitchen with Luis. They're making something special."
"I wonder what that could be…" I say, lifting Prue up next to me once I've got the tray in place. She settles down beside me, eager for me to taste her latest culinary concoction. There's a piece of toast, some sliced fruit (no doubt from her garden) and a mug of hot chocolate with a bit of cream on top. She knows I love cream – an unfortunate weakness I developed as a result of the coffee in 13. I lift the cup to my mouth and take a sip of the sweet liquid before passing it to her. Whenever she brings me breakfast we sit together on the bed and share it, simply liking the company.
It's not long before the tray is empty, save for the crumbs of toast and the juice from the fruit. But now there's a new smell – the telltale aroma of one of Peeta's cakes.
We get up and head to the kitchen, returning the tray and sneaking a peek in the oven.
"Hey, that's a surprise, Mommy!" comes Luis' cry. He's perched on a stool next to the bench, as it will be a few years before he can reach it himself. I laugh and back away from the oven, hands raised.
"But Lu, I really want that cake."
"I know, but you have to wait. It's not ready," he says, matter-of-factly. A small frown has developed on his baby face.
"Alright, alright." I walk over to where Peeta is washing the sticky mixture off the bowl, shaking his head and smiling at Lu's professional attitude.
"You should know better, Mommy Katniss." He reprimands me lightly as he dries the dish. "Go sit at the table, I'll be there soon."
"With the cake?"
"With the cake."
Satisfied with his promise of sweet things to come, I move to the table, where Prue is waiting. Luis hops off the stool, stumbles a little and joins us. Shortly, Peeta comes into the room with a steaming cake, filling the air with the scent of lemons. Today, there is no fancy icing, just a light dusting of sugar and cinnamon.
"There we are. Now, who's ready for some morning tea?" He asks, dusting off his hands. The kids' hands shoot up immediately – they never say no to cake. I smile and nod at Peeta, who is already cutting a piece for each of us. As always, the cake is amazing, and our plates are clean in minutes.
"Now, was that worth the wait, sweetheart?" Peeta smiles at me as I pick the last few crumbs from my plate.
"It definitely was, thankyou. You did a wonderful job, Lou."
"I know, Mommy. Come on Prue, I want to play outside." He's already hopping off his chair, his 4-year-old attention span getting the better of him.
The children run out to play in the garden then, leaving Peeta and I to clean up. We take the dishes to the sink and wash them, side by side, not needing to speak. Occasionally our hands meet in the warm soapy water, or my shoulder brushes his as I move to put the plates away. When we're done, we move to the living room, where he stretches out on one of the couches and pulls me down next to him. Lying back, I let his hand slide to rest on my hip, as his other drapes over my stomach. He kisses the top of my head tenderly.
I was right; it is a beautiful day, and nothing can take this moment from me. This second, right here with Peeta, could last forever.
Author's Note: Once again, feedback is appreciated :) Shout out to Kiara for making me write! Any suggestions? Happy to hear them. Lol why are you even reading a K+ story don't you guys just want to read porn
