Something Blue

.. and when he sets me down, it seems, we are standing in our new living room before the roaring hearth, surrounded by our family and friends. I have changed into my blue Reaping dress, and we have just completed our public Toasting, sanctifying our marriage in the custom of our people.

Beaming radiantly, I pull Peeta's face down to mine and kiss him long and deeply. Breaking apart lovingly, a fiddler strikes up a reel and Peeta pulls me onto the floor of our kitchen, and we dance at our wedding.

That evening, as the sun begins to set, Peeta and I swing by the Hawthorne homestead, so I can pick up most of my stuff. Gale was gracious enough to let my husband and I loan his cart. We will send for Primrose in a few days, after a proper honeymoon in our new home.

Once everything is loaded, Peeta takes me by my waist and gentlemanly lifts me into the cart. In my blue Reaping dress, I look the very picture of a blushing, newlywed bride.

Primrose runs up and hugs me. "I'm so happy for you, Katty!"

I kiss her crown. "You be good to Gale, and do what he tells you." I wave goodbye to the Hawthorne siblings; Posy is crying while perched on Gale's hips. "We'll see each other again, kids!"

With great strength, Peeta pulls the cart clear across the Seam to our new house on the border of Town.

That night, while the sun sets, we decide to have a private Toasting, just for us.

Peeta's eyes never leave me, his bride. He's uncharacteristically silent as I light candles. The electricity is off, as usual, and the sun has nearly set. Once the room is aglow I turn to him, holding out my hands. His eyes are like saucers as he takes in the sight of me in my wedding dress, bathed in candlelight. We stand in front of the cold fireplace for many long moments, just staring, admiring. Finally with a shuddering breath I ask, "Ready?"

Peeta's a whiz with fires, expertly laying the kindling and coaxing the flames into a roaring blaze, filling the room with warmth and light.

We kneel before the hearth, hands clasped tightly together, both trembling with nervous anticipation. I'm about to reach for the Toasting bread when Peeta stops me. "I wanted to give you something first," he says softly, releasing one of my hands to reach into the pocket of his shirt. "I know it's not customary in the Seam, but I was hoping…" he trails off, and my breath catches. The firelight bounces off the object in his hand. A ring, a wedding band. I've seen them before; Mrs. Undersee wears one, but it's an extravagance a poor girl from the Seam like me could never have dreamed of wearing myself.

He lifts our joined hands and reverently slides the thin silvery band onto my finger; it's a perfect fit. It's not a plain band, as I first thought, but three slender cords, braided together. Made by Brann's hand, I've no doubt. Peeta must have been saving up for it for months, for far, far longer than our fortnight engagement. He answers the unspoken question in my eyes. "I've been waiting for this day practically my whole life, Katniss. I've always believed we would get here, that no matter what…"

"This would have happened anyway," I finish for him, and his smile is dazzling in response.

Peeta reaches for the bread then, and I hold my breath. Baking this loaf had seemed so fitting, but compared to the gift he's just given me it feels silly now. I watch as his brows furrow; the slightly charred, dense loaf isn't what he was expecting, of course. The Bakery sells tiny loaves of fine white bread for Toastings, and I know that's what he'd asked Brann for.

"I baked it," I whisper, and his eyes snap up, filled with awe. I take one end of the loaf and together, we break it apart. His eyes widen when he sees the fruit and nuts inside. "Do you remember?" I ask, and he nods. "I never even thanked you."

"You never needed to. I never expected anything."

"I know," I rush to reassure him. "You saved my life that day, Peeta. Mine and Prim's and my mother's. But it's more than that. You gave me hope. You… you helped me to see that life could be good again." I shuffle forward awkwardly, until my face is just inches from his. "You're still doing that. Every single day. Your kindness, your steadiness, your love. I never knew I could be this happy."

My confession may be disjointed and rambling but he understands, and the bread lies forgotten in his lap as he cups my face, kissing me with barely restrained passion. "Let's do this," he groans when finally we break apart, "so I can make love to my wife."

There's no protocol to a Toasting, no rules to follow or speeches to recite, though most couples say at least a few words. Kneeling together, forehead to forehead, sharing bites of life-sustaining bread, toasted in our marital home by our own hands, the only words that pass between us are hushed declarations of love and devotion. When every bite has been enjoyed he kisses the crumbs from the corners of my mouth and then carries me into our bedroom.

We undress each other with sure hands, caressing and complimenting, each touch an affirmation of our commitment, kissing in frenzied, desperate pecks all the while.

His hands suddenly cup the accentuated flesh of my rear, groping me heavily, cupping first one cheek and then the other. In response, I boldly raise my leg to his waist, hooking around his torso as he slides in between my splayed thighs.

Gripping his face, I bring his lips down on mine again, and we stagger back into the dresser. I can feel Peeta's excitement against the inside of my thigh, and I squeal when he starts to rutt against me with his pelvis. Taking his bottom lip in between mine and nibbling with a growl, I seize his buttocks in my fists, nails digging into his glutes as I furiously rock my hips back.

It's a hard thing, to remain standing while you're making out, and also trying to undress each other. Peeta keeps pressing me into walls and furniture to kiss me senseless, and I mewl in happy bliss, squirming with delight as his thumb grazes over my pebbling nipples before his whole hand cups my breasts. Without breaking the kiss, I feel my Reaping dress pool on the floor at my feet and my fingers deftly reach for Peeta's belt, tugging at it as our lips swallow each other.

I tumble back onto our bed, taking my lover with me. Gasping for air, I feel his fingers peeling back my underwear down to my ankles, and I boldly spread my legs, panting.

I gasp as Peeta continues to kiss my lips and everywhere else. I throw his trousers down and blush rouge at how his organ pops free, erect and ready for me, glistening with pre-cum.

Lining up our entrances, Peeta's azure eyes lock onto my silver ones. Gulping, I nod softly, and I feel a pinch as he pushes into me. Arching my back, I let out a whimper.

"O-Only for you…." I moan. "I'm yours, Peeta." I tenderly kiss his cheek. "Only yours." Another kiss to his forehead. "Always yours…." I lips meet once again, and I draw back to stare at him fiercely. "I love you."

Peeta growls. "Mine….." His lips descend back on mine fiercely. "I love you," he gasps out, his breath tickling my mouth, and I giggle.

The pain is starting to ebb, but Peeta had stopped immediately like the gentleman he is. Wrapping my legs around his middle, we begin to undulate and rock against each other. We've never made love in a bed before, and the squeaking of the springs makes me giggle. All the while, we kiss lazily as we finally make love, Peeta changing course every few moments to suckle on my purple nipples and lavish my breasts with his tongue. The noises I make are pathetic, and I could give a damn.

"Huhhh….. Uhhhhh….." I grind along his length now sliding in and out of me as he thrusts. "Oh, Peeta….. Oh, baby….. That's it….. Harder…. Faster…."

He picks up the pace, and I clamp my thighs around him all the tighter.

"Now," I whisper in his ear, egging him on. "I need you to fuck me right now. Don't hold back."

"Oh, fuck…." Peeta throws my one leg over his shoulder and drives into me, leaving me to writhe beneath him with a happy wail.

I throw my head back into the pillow, arching my back in ecstasy. "Uggghhhh….. Huhhh….. Yessss… Now, cum inside me. I want you to cum deep inside me…."

Peeta loses whatever little control he had left. "Oh, Katniss!" Burying his face in my neck, I feel him shudder as he releases within me.

Happy tears are sliding down my cheeks, and I feel him kiss them away. But my laughter cuts off sharply when Peeta's thrusts increase in power and speed, the banging of the iron headboard against the wall drowning out the squeaks. Feeling something within me crest, my jaw goes slack as I arch into him and cry out:

"PEETA!" I scream his name again and again as my orgasm explodes all around him. Peeta jerks into me one last time, milking me, and then he collapses on top of me. The raw passion on his face, the intensity in his eyes, his love that surrounds me and fills me as he claims me, I've never felt so certain. Never felt so safe. The two of us clutch at each other, slick with sweat and panting, drifting into a lethargic sleep.

They play in the Meadow. The little boy with brown hair and blue eyes trying to keep up on long, chubby legs with his big sister of fairer skin, light hair and grey eyes. On a picnic blanket out in the Meadow, the skirts of my sundress fan out around me as I rock Peeta's and my infant son, asleep at my breast. Carrying a third child was easier, but not by much.

A war was eventually fought against the Capitol, with the districts rising up and taking the city. We live in a democracy now; there are no more Hunger Games. But they still teach about them in school, and memorials have been erected to the tributes and other dead.

Our district has been rebuilt now, with Gale elected as the Mayor. Madge Undersee seems ambivalent about being back to living in the reconstructed Justice Building, now as the District's First Lady; she and her husband have two little ones of their own now. That's nothing compared to the nieces and nephews Peeta and I have – four of them, through Delly and Rye.

The Meadow is where many of the dead from the firebombings after the Quell have been buried. Sometimes either Peeta or I will wake in the middle of the night from a terror. We soothe each other when it does happen, and often find comfort in making relieved, anguished love. Peeta, my dandelion in the spring, tells me we'll be OK – we have each other.

At my breast, my baby boy suddenly awakes, stirring as he begins to cry.

"Oh…. Sssssh…. Sssssh…." I bounce him, rock him, brushing a finger along his chin as I croon down at him. "Did you have a nightmare? I have nightmares too. So does your Daddy. Someday I'll – we'll – explain it to you. Why they came…. Why they won't ever go away… But I'll tell you how we survive it. Daddy and I make lists in our heads, of all the good things we've seen someone do. Every little thing I can remember… It's like a game: I do it over and over. Gets a little tedious after all these years, but…. there are much worse Games to play."