A/N: Happy New Year! (I'm a little late, but oh well.) It's already 2014! Wow! It doesn't not seem like it. Anyways, I hope you all are having a good holiday weekend. I know I have to go back to school next week. Ugh. Moving on, I want to thank all of you who clicked follow/favorite. It means new people, and some continual readers, are enjoying the story! Yay!
I really want to thank all who reviewed.
~alwaysbebravegirl0nfire (Your review seriously warmed my heart. I'm so thankful! Just knowing that you want to re-read it because of my writing makes me so incredibly happy because I have made you fall in love with it. And making you want to reread it. Its so incredible feeling. It only seems appropriate to say thank you.)
~may96 (Thank you! Hopefully this time, you won't be saying poor Katniss. *SPOILER* This chapter contains...fluff!)
~CuteBrunetteThatLovesHG192 (Thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter.)
~everlark4cailey (This review was amazing, and heartwarming. Gah! I work so hard to make this as realistic as I can. Thank you so much, really. I hope, as an author, I don't fail with this chapter.)
~guest (Thanks)
~Natinator1234 (Thank you!)
~volleyball1020 (Here you go! I'm glad you're enjoying it. And enjoy that vacation! It'll be over before you know it. I know it was like that for me. I was in Florida for a full week during Christmas on vacation, and before I knew it, I was home. Ugh.)
~gloriaalex.k (I hope you smile throughout this chapter. Thanks)
I really want to thank you all for reviewing. It just makes me happy that you all enjoy this story so much! I wouldn't have continued without you guys! I'm so thankful for all of you! I love you all! I dedicate this chapter to ALL who have clicked follow/favorite/review throughout this whole journey. Thanks a tons!
P.S. I got a laptop for Christmas since my other one crashed. (Ack!) And so I'm not entirely use to the keyboard, and I don't know if it's me or the keyboard itself, but the keys are sticking and sometimes it's hard to type a certain letter. Especially words with A(s), that letter was a pain in the butt! So I apologize for spelling errors cause I typed this on my new PC. I looked through it about three times, but I'm not entirely sure its clean from typos. I do apologize in advance.
Done ranting. Here's chapter five!
Chapter Five
Three Months Later…
"Peeta," I giggle as he carries me bridal style inside the door. "What's gotten in to you?" I ask as he leads me, in silence, to our bedroom.
"Can't your husband show you how much he cares about you?" Peeta demands teasingly. He kicks open the bedroom door. The room was dark and cold, just like I've preferred it to be ever since I passed the first trimester of my pregnancy. The bed, adjacent to the windows, was the opposite compared to the room. The bed was messy and warm as it wasn't usually empty unless we were forced to get out and actually do something, which we sometimes would put off.
Peeta gently sets me down on the bed. The warmth pleases me even if I preferred it cold. Peeta towers of me. I gnaw on my lip as he slithers off his jacket. I slowly exhale as he pulls off his shirt. My eyes, suddenly, were full of lust and want. My heart began to patter roughly against my chest. My stomach felt empty. He leans in and gingerly kisses me on the lips.
My hands travel to the small of his back. I tug him closer, and he crawls on the bed. We break off unwillingly, only to gasp, and crash our lips against each other's again.
His lips trek down to my neck, and I crane it back and moan in pleasure. His eyes lock with mine, and soon, everything was still, even time itself. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I leisurely push back against the backboard of the bed. I motion Peeta to come nearer, and he obliges. I gently press my lips to his. We have time, I thought with a smug smile.
XXX
The next morning I awake from a clanging noise outside my bedroom. Then someone complaining. After that there is a crash and a scream and finally, silence. I groan and roll over, unwillingly wanting to get up. I scrunch up in the bed, trying my best to ignore the continual whispers outside my door.
"Wake her,"
"No!" Peeta hisses.
"Do it!" Haymitch insists.
"Just leave," Peeta says. I can imagine him running his hands through his hair. "Thanks for helping me though, Haymitch."
"Whatever." He grumbles. I hear him stomping off and slamming the door. I groan into my pillow, already knowing what would be next.
Peeta knocks on the door. I roll my eyes. I hear more rattling. He knocks again.
"What?" I snap, throwing the pillow at the door as it gradually opens.
Peeta easily dodges the pillow. He chuckles, and I reopen my eyes to only see Peeta hoisting two tubs of paint. "Good morning." He says cheerfully.
My brows furrow. "What's with the paint cans?" I ask, ignoring his warm welcome.
"We're painting today." He replies, setting the cans down. He strides over to the side of my bed and crouches down to give me a kiss.
"Painting what?" I demand, drawing away.
"The small room in the back." He says, gesturing with his thumb. He extends his hand and helps me out of the bed.
"Do you mean the room where your art is?" I ask, braiding my hair to the side. I shrug on my jacket and lace up my boots. I round the bed, and together we walk out. He flickers the light switch as we descend.
In the kitchen, more paint cans, paint rollers, Peeta's thicker brushes, plastic tins, and tape are gathered at the eating table. A glass of water is there too. Peeta gestures towards the water first, I shake my head. I help him with the supplies. We continue on our way.
"Yeah," He conclusively responds with a confirming nod. "We need a nursery for the baby, so I'll just move my paintings into the attic." He shrugs. "It's no problem."
I stop midway when I realized what was going on. I raise an eyebrow. "We're what?" I ask dumbly.
"Painting for the nursery, baby." He says slowly, in a teasing manner.
I slap him hard. "Peeta!" I exclaim.
"What?" He demands, rubbing his sore arm.
I shake my head. "We can't just put all your art supplies and paintings up in the dusty old attic! You can barely fit a table for four in there, let alone all this art!"
Peeta's forefinger reaches my lips. I stop and stare down at it. My eyes narrow. "Shut up." He says. He removes his finger and keeps walking. I follow in suit. "I don't mind moving it." He repeats. He opens the door and dust and chalk dust welcomes us, wafting in our noses. I begin to cough as he waves his hand in the air, clearing all the types of dust there can be stored in such a tiny room. He drops the paint buckets down on the only stool. The other one I broke three months earlier is still next to the window. A broom and a dustpan is next to it. We still hadn't gotten a new one. We've been invested in other task.
I drop the bag of other supplies by our feet. Peeta steps over it, bends down, and puts his hands on my abdomen. "Besides," a warm, pleasant smile envelopes his face. My own lips somehow mirror his. I overlap my fingers over his. "This is a much better masterpiece." He murmurs softly.
He straightens back up. "So," he clasps his hands together. "Let's start on moving these paintings out." He suggest with a brow raised.
I shrug and start picking one up. Just my luck. It was the one with Prim. A lump forms in the back of my throat as I study her. Her round, flushed cheeks, tiny smile, and vibrant blue eyes. I let out a small sob and set it back down. I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. Peeta watches as he picks up several tinier pieces. He takes a step forward. "I'm fine." I insist with a rough tone. I shoot my hand out, stopping him. I pick up the picture of Primrose, alongside one of him and his older brother. I carry them out and set them on the small table by the attic door.
Peeta strides out, carrying plenty of small ones. He peers over it and tells me, "Just start setting the rest on the ground. It'll be easier to get them up to the attic that way." He gently drops the small canvases full of color and imagination on the hardware floor. He extends his hand out to me again. "Shall we, Mrs. Mellark?" he winks at me. I laugh and grab his hand. He twirls me around down the hall. He tugs me abruptly close to him. His lips brush against my ear. "We can have fun while doing this." He whispers, and steps back into the dark room. I smile and walk in. He begins grabbing bigger paintings, his arm muscles flexing.
I lean down and collect a few paintings myself and notice a little box in the corner. I grasp my fingers around it and study it. My hands feel around the smooth, carved texture. A little K is engraved by a dagger. Little designs are painted on edges of the box shaped like a trapezoid. I open it up and see velvet fitting snugly in the box. A single, glistening pearl shines from sunlight streaming through the window beside me. It was the same pearl Peeta gave me during the 75th Hunger Games. Memoires flooded in. all the good and bad. The savory kisses, and untrustworthy judgment towards the people who were helping me. The big spark in the tree, sending me flying as I break the arena. Gale casting down at me, telling me there was no District Twelve. Realizing Peeta—and Johanna—had been captured by President Snow.
I thought I lost it when I left District Thirteen. Somehow thrill bubbles in me.
"Katniss?" I hear Peeta call out.
I close the box and sip it into my coat pocket. I shuffle some paintings together and come out. "Sorry," I apologize. "I got awestruck by all these paintings." I recover smoothly. I set them down. I wipe my hands on my pants as some chalk dust leaped on my hands from grabbing them.
Peeta nods, believing it. We stride comfortably back in. "Only few more to go." Peeta promises. He grins. "And then we can paint."
I collect the last set of realistic paintings on one half of the room. There's about twenty more paintings on the Peeta's half, all on small canvases, except for the huge one of the family in the meadow.
Peeta carries that one separately and sets it on the kitchen table when I am heading back in. "How many left?" I ask as I walk in. There are only three, so I carry them and drop them on the ground. Peeta steps over all of his paintings and walks in behind me.
"Awesome!" he clasp my shoulder. "Let's get painting."
He kneels down on one knee and pop opens he two paint cans. The obnoxious fumes overbear. My nose scrunches up. "What color did you get since we don't know the sex?" I asks, turning my back against the fumes, hoping it would barricade the overwhelming scent.
"Yellow." Peeta responds cheerfully, ignoring the smell. He grunts as he tips the can. The bubbly yellow pours out onto the foil tray. It groans as it fills up.
"Yellow?" I repeat. His smile morphs into a frown.
"Do you not like it?" he asks, hurt pinned in his voice.
"No!" I counter quickly. "It's just," my eyes search around the empty room, hoping a reasonable clarification would pop up. "Just surprised, I guess." I say with a shrug.
"It seemed like a mutual color for both genders." Peeta sighs. "I can change it if you want?" He stands up. "I got Haymitch to store two paint cans of white in his house. I could run over there…" he gets cut off by my lips smashing onto his.
"It's fine." I promise. I grab a brush. I dip it into the cool yellow paint. "It's much better than white or," I scrunch my nose. "This grey."
Peeta laughs and joins with me. "This will look spectacular!" he imagines vividly. He gives my hand a squeeze. "I just know it."
XXX
Later in the evening, Peeta and I flop down onto the couch in our tiny living space. Peeta had turned on the radio as we cleaned up the trash and paint supplies. Classical piano music drifted around the house.
Our bodies were splattered with the bright yellow paint used for the nursery. Our nimble fingers ached for holding the brushes for hours, using small, slow strokes, Peeta's idea. My arms hurt from having to extend my arms up and down. My stomach growled from only munching on a red apple.
"You hungry?" Peeta asks, shifting his gaze towards me. He strokes my stomach. I, with my hands wrapped around his left arm and head rested on his shoulder, barely nod.
"Yes." I croak, my voice cracking. "Famished it seems."
"You are eating for two." Peeta points out.
"Still," I groan.
"How about I make you some soup and bread?" suggests Peeta. "And then some sweet apple pie for desert?"
"The pie sounds tempting."
"Skip the main meal?" Peeta chuckles.
"I don't even want to get up." I proclaim. I yawn. I snuggle closer into Peeta "How about we stay here and sleep?" I propose.
"I wish." Peeta sighs. "But," Peeta starts lifting up from the couch. I begin to groan. "We need to get you fed." He says, elevating me up also. I lace my fingers with his, and slowly we walk to the kitchen. I slide into a barstool and cross my arms.
"Can we skip dinner and just have pie?" I ask.
"Tempting offer," Peeta comments.
"Please!" I suddenly blurt out. I clamp my hand over my mouth. My eyes are wide.
"I didn't think…" Peeta starts.
"I don't." I finish. "Or I usually don't, anyway."
"Cravings." Peeta shakes his head. He puts up the steep pot that he was going to use. He opens the fridge and pulls out an already made apple pie. He unwraps the tinfoil and puts a slice of pie onto a plate, along with a napkin, fork, and glass of water.
I stare skeptically at it. My fingers grasp harder around the fork. My mouth begins watering over the savory piece.
"Eat it"
I am reluctant though.
"C'mon." Peeta leans against the counter, watching me, amused. "Have something sweet. The baby wants it, and I'm positive you want it."
I cut a piece out of the slice. I hoist it to my lips. I drop it in my mouth. I chew on it and swallow. "Mm." I groan in delight.
"Told you," Peeta rolls his eyes.
"I don't care." I say through another notorious bite.
"Just eat up." Peeta teasingly snaps. He gets a fork out of the drawer and gets him a small bite onto his fork. He raises it, and we clink forks.
"Cheers to our upcoming future." He says, bringing the fork to his lips. I do the same. We both chew and swallow. Simultaneously, we lean in across the granite countertop and press our lips together, fitting like a jigsaw puzzle.
A/N: Fluff! Fluff! Fluff! Oh, fluff! I just enjoy it so much. Katniss and Peeta are adorable when they spend there time actually acting all...fluffy, instead of bickering, or something along the lines of that. But that is what makes their relationship so true and pure.
Right now everything seems promising and calm in District Twelve. Katniss and Peeta have started on the nursery, which is thumbs up because obviously they would normally wait till the last second. So bravo for them. But just because its quiet that doesn't mean trouble is brewing. I still have obstacles up my sleeve. And pretty soon, someone's best friend will be returning to District Twelve after working for years in District Two. And we all know how much trouble he causes when he just blink towards Katniss. All Hell is about to break loose! So I suggest you become prepared and strap on!
Until next time!
*Disclaimer: Nada.