A/N: We are back with Peeta for this chapter, and after this one, things will be a whirlwind until the end, so get ready!
"Are you comfortable?" My hands slide up her thighs and grip her knees tightly as her own drift to settle on my hips. She uses her thumbs to stroke the creases of my inner thighs tenderly while she rolls her hips over the two pillows propped under her. Once she's settled, she scoots down slightly and brings her feet to my chest.
"Yes," she uses the hold she has on my hips in attempts to pull me closer, causing my erection to rub against her middle and a soft moan to escape from her lips. Taking advantage of the situation, I pull back and repeat the motion, making sure to hit her most sensitive spot. Each time I drag myself back over her, she arches her back up further until she's hovering above the pillows that were set under her. I shake my head at the sight.
"You need another pillow," I tell her soothingly. She nods in agreement, letting go of my hips and allowing me to grab a third pillow to prop under her. We settle back into position, but this time I keep one hand on her knee while the other finds her core. I begin to rub small circles, watching as her eyes close and she inhales deeply. "How's that?"
"Perfect," she whispers. "Don't stop."
I continue the motion as her feet begin to slide up my chest and come to rest on my shoulders. I lean forward, taking my fingers away and replacing them with my palm, beginning to rub again as Katniss moves her hands, coasting them over my chest.
"You want to come, don't you?" I ask. She's rocking her hips almost involuntarily under my palm, letting gentle moans fall from her lips like a song. I pull my hand away and watching her eyes pop open – I smirk before asking her again, "You want to come, don't you?" The expression on her face is a mix of longing and irritation. "Want my hand on you again?" I continue, moving my hand down and gently pushing two fingers inside. "Inside you?"
"Do it," she coaxes. At her words, I curl my fingers inside her and pull back, brushing the spot at the top of her walls that always causes her to cry out. I know I've hit it when the sound of her voice murmuring my name echoes through the room and her hands break away from my chest to wrap around the back of my neck. "Right there," she groans.
As I work her, I run my hand from her knee, down her thigh and plant soft kisses on her calf before the hand comes to rest flat just below her stomach. Using my thumb, I find her nerve and begin to work there too as my fingers move inside her.
Her arms fall from around my neck, and she throws them over her head while I work up the slow build to her release. When I feel her walls begin to clench around my fingers, I turn my head and kiss her leg again, slowing down the motions my thumb was making while she rides out the waves of her orgasm.
"You're beautiful," I tell her after every tremor has passed. I can tell she doesn't believe me. She doesn't feel so beautiful lately, but I'm having trouble seeing how she could possibly be more beautiful than right now. "You are." I readjust my position so my erection – which is now almost painful after watching Katniss writhe under my touch – is in line with her middle once more.
"I'm not," she argues, bringing her arms back around my neck.
"Yes," I retort firmly. I lean forward slightly; looking at her while I wedge my hands under her shoulders and hold her. Without using my hands to guide myself, I find her center and bury myself in her with one smooth motion. "You are."
With her feet still resting on my shoulders, I move with slow, deliberate strokes, reveling in every feeling and sound I can. Sometimes we are so wrapped up in each other that we forget to pay attention to the small things. The way my hips rest perfectly between her legs when I can't possibly push into her any further, the way she always moves her hands to touch me as I begin to pull back and away from her, and the almost inaudible whimpers of relief that slip from her mouth every time I push back in.
For the second time, her walls constrict around me, her breath hitching as she tries to say my name. I lean back, continuing the slow push and pull into her as my hands find every part of her body that I can reach. They ghost over her shoulders, down her sides and to her thighs, then back up to her legs where I kiss her one last time before my release takes hold of me and I'm overcome.
Over the last 9 weeks our love making has changed. From constant to periodic, the frequency has decreased as Katniss' discomfort has increased. But 5 weeks ago, when the baby's kicks were strong enough to be felt on the outside, a level of intimacy formed between us that never existed before. They started out small – quick, tiny bumps that I had to keep asking about.
"Was that one?" I ask. My hand is settled on Katniss' stomach, and her hand is cupped over mine, guiding me to where she feels the movement. Our free hands are linked together tightly, keeping Katniss steady.
The look of relief that was cast across her face when the movement started was quickly wiped away as the terror seized her, and she was reaching for me. We know it won't go away, not until Baby is in her arms and alright, but having me here when it happens keeps her calmer than when I am at the bakery, she says.
"It was," Katniss confirms. There's a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth, but it's probably in response to my reaction. I will never get over how amazing this is. I know she understands, even if she's too scared to let herself dwell on it.
Eventually, the kicks became so strong that they could not only be felt from the outside, but seen. Now, at 30 weeks, there's never any doubt that the baby is moving, especially in moments like this.
The bedroom is silent; Katniss is lying back, turned in on her side toward me. My head rests lightly on her breasts as she lazily rakes her fingers through my hair. This action, I've noticed, calms her when the baby really gets moving. Her shirt is raised just enough to reveal her stomach, and I watch, smoothing my hand over the bump as it contorts with the movements – one moves right under my hand, poking up and tickling my palm.
"I think Baby had the hiccups today," Katniss says breaking the silence. "Remember the book said that sometimes movements will feel like they're in a pattern and it's usually hiccups?"
"Yes," I nod, keeping my eyes focused on her stomach. It's not often that Katniss will mention movements that occurred when I'm not here, but it seems as though the baby's hiccups amused her, because she chuckles after I reply.
"I felt that today – one by one, every 10 or 15 seconds for almost 20 minutes." She explains.
"How did that make you feel?"
"Scared," she shifts further onto her side. "But for different reasons than I usually am." I stay silent, waiting for her to continue. "Remember what else the book said?"
"What?" The book says a lot of things, but Katniss seems to be far more dedicated to it than I am.
"That hiccups are a sign of a healthy baby that is preparing for life outside the womb." She recites the line from the book from memory, and I have to wonder just how much she reads these books while I'm away at work. "Life outside the womb…." She repeats. "What if I'm a bad mother?"
"I don't see how you could be," I move off of her, sitting up and taking her hand. "You're already doing an amazing job."
"I just need to know he or she is alright." She sounds so scared and her eyes look distant, as though she's remembering something.
"Everything has been fine, and it'll stay fine. I promise." She shakes her head at my words.
"Do you know how many women in The Seam had perfect pregnancies and came to my mother to deliver a dead baby?" she asks. "Too many."
"It's different now," I assure her. "You've been seeing Dr. Huld the entire time, you eat better than they did, and you've been doing everything by that book."
"But it's no guarantee." She insists.
"No, it's not, but what is?" I don't know what to tell her. There's nothing that I can say that will wipe away the fear of something going wrong. The only thing that will fix this is seeing the baby alive and healthy for herself.
"I want my mother here for the birth." It's sudden and seemingly out of nowhere, but I can tell by her tone that she's been thinking about this for a while.
"Of course," I reply. "She's your mother." Katniss has been talking to her mother a lot since getting pregnant. Now that Katniss is about to become a mother herself, there seems to be an understanding that has formed between them that's unspoken, but present at all times.
"And I want the baby born here." Katniss adds.
"Here?"
"At home, in our room. Just me, you, and my mother." I know there is no changing her mind. She sounds like she knows exactly what she wants, and even though I'd feel more comfortable if the baby were born at the medical center, it's important that Katniss is the one who is comfortable, so I decide not to argue.
"Just us three?" I ask. Then, the realization of what she is saying finally hits me. "You want your mother to deliver the baby?"
"I've been trying to think of ways to tell Dr. Huld for weeks now." She pulls our hands closer to her face, staring at our linked fingers. "Would you call her?" she asks sheepishly.
"Sure," I pull our hands apart, forcing her to look at me. "You'd let your mother do that?"
"Who better?" She's right. It was never talked about in town beyond whispers, but before the war, if a merchant woman had a difficult pregnancy she often found herself in The Seam. Delly used to say they would hide their faces with a blanket or large coat while they walked over from the town to The Seam so nobody would see them, all because they wanted Katniss' mother to help deliver their babies instead of the town healer. After the mining accident that killed her husband, the whispers changed to wishes that she'd resume practicing, because she truly was the best in the district.
"Are you sure your mother will be able to do it?" I don't want to agree to anything that isn't certain, not with how hopeful Katniss looks right now.
"She only works fill in shifts at the hospital now, I'm sure if we ask her soon she can do it." Katniss explains. She really has been thinking about this. "I want you there when I ask her."
"When do you want to do it?" I know we have to do this soon, there isn't much time left.
"I usually call her on Tuesdays," Katniss sits up, the hopeful look still etched on her face.
"That's tomorrow."
"After you get home from the bakery?" She squeezes my hand when I nod and peppers soft kisses across my face.
"Is that for helping you with this or agreeing to have the baby here?" I ask jokingly. She slaps my arm before turning herself around and scooting toward the edge of the bed. I hop off the other side quickly and meet her as she swings her legs over the mattress. "Up you go," I smile, extending my hand to her and pulling her up. "Let's go make dinner, Haymitch will be here soon."
"Sit down, Sweetheart," Haymitch says from his seat. "You look like you're about to topple over soon." He points at her stomach and she rolls her eyes, ignoring him and grabbing a bowl of potatoes.
"So, we decided that we're going to have the baby here at home," I tell him, trying to change the subject. He looks relieved. He has never said it, but he wants to be close when the baby is born. When we were discussing going to the medical center for the birth, he never sounded thrilled. I imagine it's because he would rather not spend time there. He will never be a people person, and the medical center is the busiest place in the district.
Neither one of us mentions Katniss' mother to Haymitch yet. We still don't even know if she will be able to do it. It's better to have all of the details set before we start to tell people. Tomorrow, when we make the phone call, we will also be calling the medical center to inform Dr. Huld of our decision. If things happen to fall through with our original plan, we can go from there. But I really hope that Katniss' mom can do this for us, it'll be the choice that will make Katniss the most comfortable and that's what's important to me.
I look over and notice that Katniss looks tense – by now, it's second nature and I can tell when the baby is kicking, without even having to feel it for myself. Quietly, I walk over to where she stands at the sink draining pasta, and I wrap my arms around her, setting my chin down on her shoulder.
"I'm right here," I whisper. Haymitch says nothing. In fact, out of the corner of my eye I can see he's doing everything he can to not even look at us. He knows how the movements have affected Katniss. But it seems that Haymitch can only hold his tongue for so long before he's reaching across the kitchen table for the piece of paper that was left there.
"What's this?" Haymitch grabs for the folded paper on the kitchen table before either of us could stop him.
"Give it to me, Haymitch," I threaten. "It's nothing."
"Bullshit," he retorts, unfolding the paper and scanning it quickly. He laughs menacingly as soon as he realizes what it is. "This is a letter from Johanna!" He settles back in his chair and scans the letter further, laughing quietly to himself as he does.
"A letter for me and Peeta," Katniss says, attempting to snatch the letter from him but her stomach gets in the way of the table and she can't reach.
"Haymitch, it's private," I add.
"Eloquent as always, that Johanna," Haymitch says, ignoring me. "I especially like this line – He knocked you up!? Did you know about this or did he 'forget' to pull out?"
Katniss' face floods with rage, and while Haymitch's nose is buried in the letter, I move around the table, fed up with him ignoring us.
"Do you still have sex knowing that there's a little human in your stomach getting knocked around?" Haymitch guffaws and slaps his knee, not caring that what he is reading was not meant for him, but stops abruptly when my arm comes up around his neck.
"Drop it," I demand. He makes exaggerated gagging noises as he lets the letter fall from his grip. Katniss picks it up quickly and shoved it into a drawer after I let go of Haymitch.
"What the hell is your problem?!" he spits. "Do you think it's funny going around putting old men in choke holds?"
"When he thinks it's funny to read a private letter out loud, yes." I snap.
Katniss is still fuming by the time dinner is served, stabbing her food as though each piece was Haymitch. He leaves quickly that night, knowing that what he did was not nearly as funny as he originally thought it was. He'll never apologize, he never does, but seeing him sulk back to his house is enough. It may be time for another conversation about boundaries and respect again.
The phone call with Dr. Huld goes smoothly. I called her office from the bakery, knowing that she is rarely available when calling at random. I left a message with the receptionist to call me at home after 1pm, and she did. I explained to her that Katniss would be much more comfortable with a home birth, and while I felt bad telling her that we wouldn't need her to deliver our child even though she has been Katniss' doctor from the beginning, she understood.
She gave us the number of a midwife in the district and suggested that we call her and meet with her even if Katniss' mother is able to come out for the birth. Thankfully the phone wasn't on speaker when Dr. Huld mentioned that there is always the chance of there being a complication and having a backup plan was essential. Katniss didn't hear a word of it, and sat next to me by the phone, waiting to call her mother.
After I am off the phone with Dr. Huld, Katniss moves to the seat and I stand next to her, waiting for her to dial the number and put the phone on speaker so we can both talk about our decision.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit shocked that Katniss came to this decision. Over the years, her mother has tried to come and visit at least once a year since our Toasting. It has never been something that Katniss has been particularly excited about, and her last visit was a short and uncomfortable one back when we were still trying to get pregnant.
I've always gotten along with her. She has a lot of interesting stories about District 12, and I find the ones about my father as a child to be the most interesting. Through her, I've learned things about him that I would probably have never known otherwise.
Katniss has trouble seeing past the issues the two of them had through the years, but there have been evenings where we would all sit in the living room together, listening to stories about the way my father used to try to convince every teacher they had that his homework was already turned in, taking the extra time he got to finish it up, only then acting as though he'd found it in his book. Katniss always seemed interested in learning these things too, and it was during moments like that where I saw that if Katniss could put aside her differences with her mother, that there could be a mother and daughter relationship again. It may be too much to hope that our child will be the one to bring them together again, but so far, it has really been a big help.
Katniss dials the number and puts the phone on speaker – the sound of the rings stream from the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi, mom," Katniss says. Her tone is laid back, like this is what was normal now. "You're on speaker, I've got Peeta here."
"I was wondering why you didn't call earlier," she answers. "Hi, Peeta."
"Hi, mom," I greet her. Katniss takes a deep breath next to me, ready to get straight to the topic.
"We have something to ask you, mom." She begins. "We were wondering if you'd be able to be here for the birth of the baby." The line goes silent. I'm just getting ready to ask if she's still there when she speaks up.
"Really?" She's shocked. She may even be crying.
"There's more," I cut in. "Katniss wants you to be the one to deliver the baby." Again, the line goes silent.
"Katniss?" she asks. It's as though she needs to hear it from Katniss to believe it's true.
"Would you, mom?" Katniss asks hopefully. "I'd really be more comfortable with you."
"Of course I'll do it," there's no hesitation this time, and she's definitely crying now. "As long as you're comfortable with it, I will be there for you guys."
"So what do we do next?" I ask. "We're ten weeks away from the due date, what has to be done?" If we're having the baby at home, I want to have everything prepared and ready.
"Did you alert the medical center of your decision? It's best that they know." She stops there, knowing better than to mention the possibility of complications with Katniss present.
"I did that before we called you." Katniss hasn't said a word. I look at her and notice a look of relief on her face that I haven't seen in a long time.
"I can bring everything you're going to need for the birth," she offers. "The only thing I can think of for you to do before I get there is get extra sheets for the bed; we'll need them when we prep the bed."
"When can you get here?" Katniss asks, finally breaking her silence.
"When do you want me there?"
"Soon." Katniss says.
"I could come out in 7 weeks when you hit full term," she suggests. "The baby can come any time after that." The baby could come any time before that too, but it's another reality we are avoiding today. I look at Katniss and nod, having her mother here for the final three weeks of the pregnancy will be helpful. While I'm away at the bakery, Katniss will have someone with her. Someone that knows much more than I do about pregnancy and labor.
"That sounds perfect." I answer.
"Perfect," Katniss repeats. "Just let us know when your train will be here and we'll meet you at the station."
"I will, Katniss," she says. "I'll see you guys in 7 weeks."
"See you in 7 weeks." We both answer, hanging up the phone.
