This one, actually, I came up with all by myself. I wrote it in about a half hour in my grandparents' attic this summer, so I'm kinda proud of it.

Yeah, I know, the past one was fluffy and this one is too. I can't help it. I like the fluff. But the next one and probably the one after that will be angst-y. Cause, come on, it's Katniss. Angst is her thing. But that's why Peeta's so great for her :]

So thanks for reading. Please enjoy and review! :]


Always There

"Momma? Mommy?"

I float on the edge of consciousness, vaguely aware of my daughter calling for me.

"Mommy?"

Peeta nudges me with his arm. His eyes are full of sleep as he yawns.

"She's calling for you." He mumbles, half into his pillow. "You'd better go check on her."

I groan and roll over onto my back. I can tell he's smirking a bit as our daughter still calls out for me.

"Moooommmy?"

I can hear the hitch in her voice. The one that means she's going to start wailing soon. And boy, can she wail. She can cry for hours at the top of her lungs non-stop, deafening screams that make me almost wish that the Capitol had never fixed my ear.

Peeta nudges me again and I sit up, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. I can hear her hiccup and sniff, signaling that if I don't go to her soon, I'll be up for more than ten minutes. But all I want to do is go back to sleep.

Come on kid, I think, go back to sleep. She sniffles again; the tears all ready to go.

"Daddy?"

There we go.

Peeta jumps out of bed and out the door, stumbling a bit on his leg. I laugh softly to myself.

It never fails. Every time she calls for him he's there in a heartbeat. When she wants a story. When she wants to play. When she falls down and scrapes her knee. And on nights like these. He's always there for her, just like he's always there when I need him.

I stretch, get up, and pad down the hall after him to her room. Peeta is holding her in his arms, stroking her hair as she cries into his shoulder.

"It's ok. Shhh, don't cry. I'm right here." He soothes, lightly pacing.

"Bad dream?" I ask, petting her soft head. He nods and continues his pacing. "I'll get her some water."

By the time I get back, Peeta is sitting in a chair, our daughter's cries reduced to whimpers and sniffs. I hand her the drink and sit down at Peeta's feet, my hand holding her little one. We're quiet for a bit, listening to her gulps and sloppy sips until she finishes with a loud gasp.

"Daddy?" She asks, handing me back the glass.

"Mm?"

I smile. He's on the edge of sleep, I can tell, but he wakes up enough to nudge me closer with his foot and wrap his arms around her.

"Tell me a story?" She says with a yawn.

"What kind of story?"

"'Bout you and Mommy."

My body tenses up against Peeta's leg at her words; I can't help it. I imagine every horrible thing Peeta and I have ever been through: Both of the Games. The war. Peeta's hijacking. All of the fights we ever had.

"How about when I first saw her?" He says. I relax as he tells her story after story about the two of us, all of them happy and good. His face lights up when he talks, weaving magic with his words and I'm once again reminded why I love the boy with the bread.

"Daddy?" She says once he's done, her voice heavy with sleep. "Will you sleep with me?"

"Of course." He chuckles, kissing the top of her head. Scooping her up in his arms, he grabs some blankets and her pillow and lies down on the floor.

"Go to bed." He says, looking up at me. "I'll be there shortly."

I shake my head, grab another pillow for the two of us, and snuggle in.

"You'll fall asleep." I say. "And besides, I'd much rather sleep here than in an empty bed."

He chuckles but doesn't argue and wraps his arms around my waist. I smile at him then look down at our daughter. She's already asleep, clutching his shirt in her tiny fist. I place a kiss on her head, burying my nose in her dark hair. She smells like freshly baked bread and soap from her bath.

"Katniss." Peeta's voice is low as he tilts my chin up to look at him. "I love you."

I kiss him tenderly and I get the same feeling I did when I kissed him in that cave and on that beach. He responds to me and pulls our daughter and me closer to him.

"I love you." He repeats. "You and both our children."

He places a hand over my swollen stomach, and I can feel our second child stir. My heart flutters with a little bit of the same fear that I had when I carried our daughter; the fear that I'm going to do something wrong to this child in some way simply by having it. But then Peeta whispers those three words to me and all of that fear goes away.

"I love you." I say back and kiss him one more time before I fall asleep in his arms.