Thank you forever to jeniezee my lovely, fantastic beta :) This chapter is a bit of a throwback, but next will meet the time frame of chapter 17. Enjoy! Submitted to promptsinpanem tumblr round 5 day 4.
Though numerous scenarios run through his mind, each exploring a new way to change the outcome of last night's conversation plaguing him with the need to wake her and apologize profusely, ultimately, it is the patter of rain against the open windows that keeps him up.
The foggy open windows invite the inklings of warm wind to blend with the air circulating from the spinning ceiling fan that rotates at an alarming speed. Throwing back the thin bed sheet and tossing his legs over the edge of the bed one at a time, Peeta hobbles over to check the dial. Katniss insisted she has the fan running on the lowest setting, but he needs to be sure; the way the blades cut through the air, it feels as if they could snap off and decapitate him at any shudders at the thought.
With a heavy sigh, Peeta heads back to bed when he confirms Katniss' claim but he sounds of a car from the street below halt his course. Making his way closer to the window, he catches a glimpse of a sleek car that is definitely not their neighbour Johanna's beat-up Honda Civic.
The roar of the engine cuts as the white light at the front of her house floods the streets, competing with the orange glow of the street lamps to blind the sleeping neighbourhood.
The driver and passenger open their doors before Johanna makes it down the concrete steps of her front walk way. The passenger doesn't take a step more, as if he anticipated Johanna launching herself into his arms, abandoning the umbrella in her hands to the ground below.
"You're late." Peeta can hear the smile in Johanna's voice.
"His grandmother was having a hard time saying goodbye," the man's sultry voice answers back. "She tried to get us to stay with them."
"You should've, y'know. Least 'till the end of the year."
"I can handle it, Jo," the man's voice quivers. "Gersemi and I made a deal, part of which includes flying up for Christmas this year. They invited you as well. They want to meet you."
Peeta doesn't realize how taut the muscles in his face are until his attention is drawn from Johanna and her … friend? … to the driver who is carrying bags from the trunk and into the house.
"We'll talk about that later; first we gotta get the little guy in the house before he catches pneumonia," her voice cuts loud and clear through the rain.
"Oh, don't worry, he's so bundled you wouldn't recognize him," the man chuckles. Opening the passenger door on the driver's side, he watches the man climb back into the car and struggle with carrying the infant out.
Peeta bites down on his tongue. The man was right; between the clothes and the blanket secured to the detachable carry-on it is difficult to recognize the bundle is an infant.
He wants to interrupt the pouring rain with a thundering laughter; Peeta never thought he'd see the day when Johanna Mason willingly allows a child into her home. Especially a child that isn't her own.
The humourous tickle vanished as quickly as it arrived, replaced by a dull ache. His heart twisted like a corkscrew being ripped from a bottle before it drops into the depths of his stomach as white, hot anger pours through his veins.
"Bullshit," Peeta seethes, tearing the paneling off of the window. Why did the universe chose her? What makes Johanna, with her foul mouth and revolving front door, more qualified to raise a child than them? Just because he has a history of mental illness doesn't make him any less capable than her. He's taking his medication and been hallucination-free for 3 years. Yet he's still unfit, according to his general practitioner.
"Peeta, what are you doing?" Katniss calls out to him, groggily, her gray eyes heavy with sleep.
"Johanna's got a guest," Peeta says, flatly.
"Oh. Well, okay then. Would you close the blinds? Its bright," she mumbles in reply, the blankets rustling as she curls back into a comfortable position.
"I think he's permanently moving in."
"Good for her," Katniss yawns. "Now, would you close the blinds and come to bed?"
"He brought a child with him."He scowls as he drops the shire blinds. The clap of plastic hitting the wood frame cuts loudly through the patter of raindrops falling against the window.
Peeta watches how silent and still his wife remains in her impenetrable cocoon. Her eyes open as the gray dances with the light of the street lamps.
The engine roars interrupting their stalemate, forcing Peeta to throw in the white flag. No good will come from harping on this. Johanna, despite her past actions, is a good person and will probably make a good caregiver for the child. Who knows, maybe she'll bring the boy over for a visit. Then he can prove to Katniss he's up to the challenge of raising a child.
Determined to not let his jealousy get the better of him, Peeta shuffles back into bed and encases his wife in his stronghold. A gentle kiss to her neck has a shiver coursing through her body, making him laugh quietly in her ear.
"Peeta," she moans in protest as his lips bee line down her neck, across her bare shoulders and along the discs in her spine. "Peeta, we need to be up soon."
"It seems to me that we already are."
"You know what I mean," she groans.
"I do? Think you should enlighten me, Ms. Everdeen." She stirs in the confines of his arms and rolls from the suffocating blanket and out of bed. She crosses the room to close the window blowing in hot air. The snap of the locks as they close echos through the room, interrupting the whirling of the ceiling fan.
Katniss' smouldering silver eyes rim with locks of mischief when she turns to face him. Sashaying towards him from across the room, Peeta's anxious gaze travels down the slopes of her bouncing breasts towards her hypnotic hips as they bring her back towards the bed.
"How would you like to be enlightened, Mr. Mellark?" Katniss chimes as she crawls up the cotton bed sheets and along his stretched out body until she's sitting on his hips. He drags his hands up the exposed skin along her sides, across her torso until he reaches her soft, perky breasts. He sweeps the pads of his thumbs over the pebbled nubs, making her moan loud enough for him to hear.
While having children sounds nice, there are advantages to it just being the two of them.
Peeta falls onto the couch and props up his prosthetic against the side of it. While he loves his job at the bakery- being surrounded daily by the aroma of freshly baked goods and enjoying baker's hours of being up by 5 and home by 3, just in time to take his medication- his leg always pulsates with the pain from standing on it all day. Just as he sinks into the couch cushions to take his much-needed rest and flips on the news, Brutus' roar of a bark startles him.
"What is it, boy?" Peeta calls out, not expecting an answer. However, the grating sound of paws against the wooden door and another bark gives him a good idea.
As part of the healing process, his doctor recommended a service dog, which Katniss agreed to impulsively. Neither regret the decision of bringing the German Shepard into their home. Brutus being around to detect an episode, especially when Katniss is at work, puts both of them at a much needed ease. If an episode as badly as the one that took Peeta's leg ever happened again, neither would like to see what could occur afterwards.
Reluctantly, Peeta straps his leg back on and turns off the TV before grabbing a plastic bag from under the sink and Brutus' collar from the coat rack.
"Guess that walk to and from work wasn't enough for you today, huh?" Peeta chuckles as he clips on the leash and opens the door. Brutus flies down the concrete steps of their townhouse to the sidewalk, setting their walk at a brisk pace.
Along the way, Brutus marks his territory on every righted object. Luckily, when they make their way to the playground up the street covered in the shade of luscious, old Maple trees, he is pleased with his work, giving Peeta enough time to toss the plastic bag of excrement in the trash before they are on the move again.
This time, Brutus guides Peeta to a bench directly beneath the canopy of two overlapping trees. Circling a spot of thick grass, Brutus makes himself cozy, for which Peeta is thankful for. Finally, an opportunity for rest.
The warm, April wind rustles through the leaves as the sun plays hide and seek with the clouds, making patterns in the sand. Peeta mentally tries to make sense of the dots of light by giving them meaning. He should have brought his sketch book.
"Dada, Dada, Dada," a shrill voice breaks Peeta from his swirling imagination to the little boy atop the smallest slide. He meets the boy's brilliant sea green eyes and follows the boy's chubby, extended finger.
"What is it, kiddo?" The boy's father asks, materializing from behind the plastic walls of the jungle gym. His distinct, Chicago accent ringing in Peeta's ears like a fire alarm; it's the man from this morning. This is Johanna's friend. With his golden skin, tousled bronze hair and eyes that match his son's; he is revoltingly handsome.
Peeta can't help the pang of jealousy that resonates through him. Just watching this young man with his superior looks and his bright-eyed infant makes Peeta feel insignificant and undeserving. If this is the ideal father and son, Peeta is way out of their league.
"Its just a man and his dog. Can we share the park with them?" The man asks, scooping up his son and rubbing his nose up to the little button nose of the boy's.
"That's alright. We were just leaving," Peeta answers, getting up and tugging gently on Brutus' leash. He needs to get out of here before he loses it.
"You just got here. Really. Stay. We won't bother you," the man insists and he tries to put his son back down onto the slide. But the boy won't unravel himself from his father's body.
"C'mon, Noah. What's wrong, you like the slide," the man tries to peel his son off him but the boy won't budge. Noah's green eyes remain transfixed on Peeta's from across the playground; not in curiosity but fear.
His father takes notice of Noah's state immediately and doesn't hesitate to do something about it. Sitting down onto the sand-covered platform, the man pushes himself down the slide, getting an eruption of tinkling laughter from his infant in his arms.
"There we go! Do you want to go again?" Noah's face lights up and he nods animatedly in favour of his father's request. Peeta watches as the man hoists his boy to the top of the slide and walks down to the bottom as gravity pulls the giggling boy into his father's outstretched arms.
All Peeta wants to do is crawl into a hole. Brutus' rumbling growl masks Noah's yawn and nips the hissing whispers of his subconscious in the bud. He needs to get home, he needs to find his quiet place and he needs to wait until Katniss gets back from work. Maybe she was right, maybe having children would be a bad idea right now.
"Are you alright?" The man asks, genuine concern in his voice. With his toddler's head lulled onto his shoulder and eyes closing, he places the boy in the stroller carefully. Great, they were leaving too.
"I'm fine," Peeta insists as Brutus begins to guide him back onto the sidewalk and towards home.
The squeak of the stroller trails behind him as the man jogs to catch up. They fall into step much to Peeta's chagrin but the man offers him a bright, white grin in return.
"Y'know, I gotta say you've got it pretty nice here. Good area. Sizable, cozy homes. Close to a school. Better than living in a mansion with 3 acres between you and your neighbour with a school only reachable by car."
"You're joking, right?" Peeta asks, astonished.
"You caught me," the man grins, cheekily.
They walk on in silence save for the tiny suckling noises Noah makes with his pacifier securely between his teeth deep within the recesses of his mid-afternoon nap. When that happened, Peeta doesn't know.
"He's cute," Peeta finds himself saying.
"Thanks. He doesn't take after his mother," the man says continuing to grin. However Peeta remains silent, uncomfortable with the quip.
"I was kidding."
"Big on jokes, huh?"
"They are something of my speciality."
Peeta bobs his head in agreement before turns back towards the his path straight ahead.
"I'm Finnick, by the way, just moved here ... well... this morning."
"Peeta," he shares. Observing out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Finnick's face contorts with thought.
Peeta can feel his pores fill with sweat and his hands begin to shake. What is Finnick thinking about? Does he know someone else named Peeta? He's never met anyone else named Peeta. Could they've met before? They couldn't have, could they? He would remember someone like Finnick. Why does Finnick know who he is?
"Peeta...what's your background," Finnick inquires, after some time.
"Welsh."
"Huh. Interesting. So, do you live with your parents?"
"No, I live with my wife," Peeta answers, through gritted teeth.
"Uh. Seems to be the trend now to get married young."
"You're talking as if you're 40."
"I feel 40," Finnick's smile drops and his eyes grow distant. The wrinkles in his face prominent making look at least 5 years older.
"So, um...Noah's your son?"
"No, I'm just babysitting him until his parents come to pick him up, " Finnick replies flatly.
"You're really funny, you know that?" Peeta says dryly. "Can't be straight with a person, can you?"
"Bad habits die hard," Finnick smirks.
He doesn't offer Finnick another word to fuel his abundance of quips. They walk in silence back to their street. As Peeta swings left towards his front door, Finnick stops him.
"It was nice meeting you," Finnick says but Peeta shrugs, brushing him off as he fiddles with the lock. "Hopefully next time I'll get to meet that beautiful wife of yours. Maybe over dinner?"
Looking back, Peeta's bewildered blue eyes lock on to Finnick's mischievous ones. He wants to pummel that disgustingly handsome face in, wiping that smug grin clean off Finnick's lips and rewriting it with anguish as he cradles his broken nose.
"Over my dead body," Katniss' voice rings out from behind him. She sounds pissed, hell, looks pissed as she stomps down the front steps towards them. "I'm not letting you within ten feet of me!"
"I think, though I may be mistaken, you just moved closer to where I am standing so…I believe that puts us in an interesting predicament," Finnick hums, not bothering to hide the width of his grin.
Katniss' eyebrows knit together while her gray eyes steel. "You're insufferable."
"So glad some things never change." He genuinely sounds as if he is enjoying watching her squirm.
"Can't say I feel the same way, Finnick," she glowers, refusing to meet his eyes, glowing with delight.
"If it makes you feel better, your husband here isn't a fan of mine either," Finnick sighs, over-dramatically. "Don't know what I did to deserve it."
"You know what you did," Katniss spits, grasping a hold of Peeta's hand in hopes to get hers to stop shaking. But it doesn't; Peeta can feel the trembles crawl up his arm as his knuckles grow white.
The squeak from the stroller brings the couple's attention to the napping infant whose matted dirty blonde waves stick to his pasty face as it rests against the padded sides. Peeta can feel the stubs of Katniss' nails curl deeper into his hand.
"I'm not going to apologize for choosing to raise my son, Katniss," Finnick admits, sternly.
"That isn't the issue," Katniss speaks slowly.
"Then what is it?"
"Madge," Katniss states simply, leaving Finnick standing there gaping like a fool as he contemplates an answer but comes up short. "Gale didn't deserve to have you rip everything away from him. It wasn't fair!"
"Life isn't fair, Katniss." A dangerously low growl rumbles in Finnick's chest as he speaks.
"I know that," she glowers.
"Then stop acting like it is! I was desperate and Madge decided to help me. So what's done is done," Finnick retorts, rolling the stroller back and forth as Noah rustles in the padded seated. "I am sure Gale welcomed her back into his life with open arms."
Katniss grumbles as she squeezes Peeta's hand gently.
"Must be nice to go home to people who still love you after you fuck up," Finnick sighs, turning his attention in the direction of potential on coming traffic. Taking a step off the curb, his quick stride carries him and Noah onto Johanna's driveway before a car comes zooming by.
"Can't get much luckier than that," Finnick shouts across the way as he unbuckles the boy from his prison and props Noah up on his hip, taking him inside to enjoy the rest of his nap.
Once the door shuts behind them, Peeta half expects Finnick to make another appearance but he doesn't. He can feel a dull ache pulse through his chest as he turns to face Katniss, who stares blankly out onto the asphalt.
"I...um...Katniss…?" She neither blinks nor replies, just stands there her eyes fixated on that asphalt. Letting go of Peeta's hand, she heads back up the concrete steps.
"The boy...do you know his name?"
"Noah."
When she turns back to look at him, a smile quirks in the corner of her mouth before pulling down in a frown. "It isn't fair. He deserves a selfless woman for a mother."
"I'm guessing she left them?"
"Yes," Katniss sneers. "Madge said she has some choice words geared up to spit in that awful woman's face."
Peeta smiles, reeling her back in so she's flush against his chest. "That's why I love you." Perching on her toes, her lips find his as her arms weave around his neck. "Your frustration is charming," he murmurs against her lips.
"You're a strange one, Peeta Mellark."
"And that's why you love me."
Days fly like seconds, weeks like minutes and before Peeta knows it they are half way through Summer. Like every year, their 2000 of square feet of townhouse is encased in a dome of delicious smells from peach almond crumble to Johanna's required batch of peach tarts, making the mouths of their neighbours water.
Peeta purposefully avoids the desserts of his childhood, much to Katniss' discontent. On his baking binges, she wishes he'd think of himself instead of making his loved ones smile as they bite down into their favourite Mellark delicacies, but he refuses to blend the heavenly scents of his new, steady life with his old, wayward one.
How is he to improve unless he actively avoids his triggers?
It doesn't come as a surprise to Peeta when the door rings. Johanna likes to periodically check up on the progress of her peach tarts, Katniss tries to scold their neighbour for imposing and sends her back across the street but Peeta insists Johanna isn't in his way. Her visits give him routine. Dr. Aurelius insists on the upholding of a strong routine.
"I swear to God this woman never learns," Katniss huffs, barely audible above Brutus' incessant barking. Swinging the door open with one hand, the other wrestling to restrain Brutus, a 'What?!' prepares itself to pass her lips but Peeta listens to her stutter instead.
The whine of a reluctant toddler has Peeta peering around the kitchen corner, still tossing the dough for the tarts from hand to hand. Feeling the muscles in his face tighten and crinkle around his narrowed eyes forms, he watches Finnick shift a squirming Noah from hip to hip while his turquoise eyes swim with urgency. Katniss loses her grip on Brutus' collar, who immediately jumps onto Finnick and paws at the expensive suit trying to reach the boy.
"I can't bring him with me to the meeting and Johanna's working. I swear I'll only be gone for an hour, maximum two." Finnick rushes, trying to maneuver his son out of the dog's reach.
"It's Saturday morning, what kind of company are you working for?" Katniss crosses her arms over her chest, a shaped dark eyebrow arching at him in inquiry.
"I'll explain everything later. Please, just help me this once, Katniss. I won't ask anything of you again," Finnick's voice wavers. Noah's little fingers grasp and tug at the lapels of his father's suit, his face twisted in fear, none the wiser to how desperate his father is.
"Peeta's baking," her voice drops but Peeta still catches her hushed words. "I'm sure Gale told you; he's got a condition and baking for him is therapeutic. He's been episode-free all month and I don't want the spontaneity of your child to ruin a good thing. So, I'm sorry, but I can't hel-"
"Sure," Peeta pipes in, wiping his wet hands on the skirt of his apron before taking Noah out of Finnick's hands. "We can watch him for a few hours. Is there anything we need to know?"
Relief washes over Finnick's face." I fed and changed him already so he's all good to go in that department. He's probably a little fussy right now because his nap time is coming up, so hopefully, if you put him down in fifteen minutes he'll be asleep the entire time and you'll just need to check up on him."
Shrugging the oversized diaper bag off his shoulder, Finnick hands it to Katniss who misjudges the weight and loses her footing. "Everything but the kitchen sink is in that bag. If there is an emergency, call me! My number is in the bag. If you can't find it, call Johanna at work." Finnick brushes the wrinkles out of his navy Hugo Boss suit before leaning over to kiss both Katniss and Peeta on the cheek. Flushes stain both of their faces.
"I can't thank you two enough! You are life savers." Finnick smiles at them before touching a kiss to Noah's head. "Be good for Uncle Peeta and Auntie Katniss, kiddo." The boy stares at him with those bright, sea foam eyes of his and watches his dad trot off down the steps, cross the street, slip into his black Audi and barrel down the street at a hundred miles per hour.
Noah turns his head of messy dark hair from the empty driveway across the way to Peeta's nervous smile. Bouncing the boy on his hip, Peeta chooses to ignore Katniss' grunt of discontent.
"Hey there, Noah," Peeta says, trying to get the boy to smile. "I guess I'm your Uncle Peeta now. Do you remember the day we met at the park?" Noah's eyes continue to look right through him as they blink slowly. "Guess not. How about we head over to the couch and see what your Dad has packed."
Peeta makes a beeline for the sofa in family room, Brutus in tow, while Noah remains oddly quiet. Katniss follows with the bag securely over her shoulder. Placing the luggage onto the carpeted floor, they sift through the contents: diapers, toys, bottles, utensils, snacks, emergency contact information, blanket, changing mat and some extra clothes. Neither could say that Finnick wasn't thoroughly prepared.
"Now if Finnick managed to fit a playpen in here then we'd be all set," Katniss mumbles.
"So we can dump the boy in there?" Peeta retorts with narrowed eyes, furious with her for using him as an excuse. They were handed the perfect opportunity to practice being parents and she wanted to toss it aside over the possibility of disrupting a delicate balance. "He's a child, Katniss. We don't even put Brutus in a cage!"
"Peeta, I don't want to cage him. He does need to sleep somewhere safe, where he won't roll and smash his head open," Katniss clarifies as she scrounges through the diaper bag. "I don't think Finnick would appreciate us killing his son."
Peeta can feel the guilt of his assumption rub his insides raw, leaving him naked to the truth of Katniss' words. She had a point.
"One of us could always watch him?"
"Or," Katniss drawls as she pulls out the folder with emergency information and rips the key off the inside of the pocket. "I can run across the street and grab it." Finnick really has thought of everything, leaving nothing to chance.
Not like his father.
Brutus' snarls don't clip the quickening pace in which Peeta can feel his tongue grow heavy; nor the sweet taste of apples that lay soaked into his taste buds that now turn to ash. The smell from wood burning ovens of the bakery comes next. The sight of the open flames that warm the room uncomfortably has his attention drawn on the hunched over woman that is his mother as she grips onto the marble of the rolling pin in her hands. He spots vacancy in his father's pale blue eyes as they flicker back down to his hands, feigning ignorance of what's to come.
He's not going to be his father. He's going to be better than that.
"P-peeta?" Katniss' voice breaks through, shakily, as her silver eyes dance with worry, her hands wringing the blanket between her fingers. She throws the blanket to the floor and shoots up from her place before he can call her back. "I knew this was a bad idea! He's as much as an insufferable, selfish bastard as he's always been!"
"Kat-"
"Who the hell works on a Saturday anyways?!" she fumes, stomping into the front entrance and ripping her leather jacket off the coat hanger and over her shoulders. Peeta catches her arm as she throws open the door.
"This isn't Finnick's fault, Katniss," he says, hoisting Noah higher on his hip. "It's...it's not mine either. Things happen and we have to deal with them. I'm fine now and I'm going to be fine for the next several hours. Brutus will be with me too. So please, put your grudge back in its box and help me out."
Her shoulders fall in defeat while the steel of her eyes soften under the heat of his gaze. Perching on her toes, Katniss places a kiss to the top of his head before bounding down their front steps and jogging across the street.
Feeling Noah shift, Peeta expects to have to adjust the boy's body again but to his surprise Noah's head drops to his shoulder and his tiny hand claps a wave to her. Peeta's heart bursts in an array of indescribable emotion. Finnick is a lucky man to experience this every day.
Taking his place back on the sofa in the main sitting room, Peeta seats Noah in his lap. The sleepy boy's head lifts from Peeta's shoulder and squirms out of his grasp. Peeta holds him steady as he attempts to slip to the floor.
"My house must be really interesting. How about we wait until Auntie Katniss comes back and you can do all the walking you want, ok?" Peeta doesn't expect an answer but Noah's obedience is enough of an indication for him to know he was heard. Bending down to grasp the first toy he could reach, Peeta puts the plush rattle in Noah's grasping hands. The boy's eyes smile as they fill with wonder while the the beads within the shaking caterpillar clink together, his laugh tinkling with unadulterated joy. Never has Peeta been witness to something so heart-wrenchingly innocent.
Those tiny hands shake the rattle and examine the components of the caterpillar until Katniss comes back, out of breath as she carries the play pen. Peeta has watched her carry one of his bags of flour from the front door to the kitchen with less strain than she does the play pen.
"Welcome back," he smiles, shifting Noah's attention from the plushie and focus on Katniss. "You seem a little tired there. Maybe I should have gotten it."
Her braid sways from side to side as she shakes her head. "It was better I went. It wasn't a walk in the park to collapse and carry over here. Almost lost a finger."
"I'm glad that you and that finger are still with us," Peeta chuckles, pushing himself from the couch cushions only to fall back down.
"You having trouble?" Her smile slips slightly.
Peeta manages to right himself, standing tall and steady before crossing the room to relieve her of the contraption. "I'm great. Though, I think its time we traded."
"Getting tired of babysitting?"
"I thought you'd like a chance to spend some time with him," Peeta says softly.
Her gray eyes narrow at the bundle in Peeta arms; with his head rested down in the crook of Peeta's neck, Noah is still preoccupied with his toy.
"But he seems more comfortable with you," she draws her lip between her teeth.
"Alright," he sighs. "But if you need help you're gonna have to hold onto him."
"I collapsed the playpen, I think I can put it back together," she says coolly.
"I'm sure you could, I was just saying..."
"Well, I can do it."
"Alright then, do it."
"Okay, good," she bites.
"Great," he smiles. Huffing off with the large contraption under her arm, she sets it up against the furthest side of the wrap around couch, closest to the TV. Peeta attempts to contain his amusement as he watches her assemble it. Finnick no doubt didn't spring for a cheap one; with its unusual trapezoid shape and well-padded mattress, it must have cost him a fortune not including bedding - which is monogrammed with the boy's initials embroidered into the corners.
"These are impressive," Peeta gawks, not able to help but admire the hand stitched lettering.
"Gale told me the boy's mother comes from money," Katniss mutters as she turns to the toddler who has given up playing with his toy to rest his head down onto the blanket, eyes fluttering with sleep. Scooping the drowsy Noah into her arms, she cradles him close as if the child were her own. Her eyes, soft as candle light, gaze upon his round cheeks and flat nose once her nimble fingers push the thick matted waves of dark brown hair aside. "She had everything and yet...I don't know how she justified walking away from him."
Peeta doesn't have to know the woman to surmise her reasoning and deep down, part of him sympathizes with her. Not everyone can rise to the occasion. "You'll make a much better mother," he whispers in Katniss' ear as he rests his chin on her shoulder.
"Peeta...don't."
"Don't? Don't what? Reassure you that you should trust your instincts?" His voice rises with frustration. Here they go for the umpteenth time this month.
"Talk about having kids. Y'know we can't…"
"We can, Katniss! Hasn't this time together just now proven that?" Peeta pulls away, eyes watching as his wife carefully places Noah down on the padded bottom and touches a kiss to his exposed forehead.
She must have done it unconsciously because once she realizes the spontaneity of her actions Katniss backs out of the room and dashes up the stairs. Peeta knows exactly where she is off to go hide but feels a little time to collect herself would be wise.
The nudge of Brutus' muzzle against his leg turns Peeta's attention from the measured rise and fall of the toddler's chest as he reaps the joys of his mid-morning nap. Weaseling his nose up into Peeta's hand, Brutus rubs it against his owner's palm bringing a smile to Peeta's sullen face.
"Katniss should give herself more credit? We've done pretty well up until now," Peeta speaks, scratching his short nails through Brutus' cropped fur before padding back into the kitchen. However, Brutus doesn't follow; his claws remain secure between the threads of the rug with nose pointed at the sleeping child. Eyes as watchful as ever. With that smile now shining proudly on his lips, Peeta goes back to kneading the dough. The sounds of sticky dough slapping against his hands and the deep breaths of a sleeping child putting him at ease.
By the time the doorbell rings, the peach filling has been blended and left to chill in the fridge besides the dough. Forgoing the cantaloupe gelato he plans to offer Noah as mid-afternoon dessert, Peeta opens the door revealing a worn out Finnick Odair. The careful, pristine appearance prior to leaving for work is lost to this man; his suit jacket has vanished, leaving only tie loosely hanging down from around the collar of his wrinkled white shirt.
"Hey." Finnick barely manages to smile politely as his voice cracks and eyes scream for solace. "How was he?" There is no room for apologies in his vocabulary, currently, but Peeta doesn't mind. The extra time with the sweet, bubbly toddler was a blessing. If only Katniss would have come down to enjoy it with him.
"Great! After his nap and some lunch, he just sat and played with his caterpillar and plush dinosaur. I checked up on his periodically, changed his diaper when need be…" Peeta trails off as he glances over his shoulder to the family room where Noah's joyful giggles waft from.
"Y-you fed him?" Finnick's astonished. "What'd he eat?"
"Leftover squash salad. It wasn't high in protein, sorry, but it was softest food I could find was safe for him to eat. Y'know, without possibly triggering a potential allergy or something," Peeta mumbles.
"And he didn't get fussy?" Finnick presses, life flooding back into his eyes and colour into his ghostly cheeks. "He's stubborn when it comes to vegetables."
"He was fine, honestly," Peeta says.
"Guess I'll have to call you next time Noah needs a serving of veggies," Finnick laughs, visibly relaxing as a more genuine smile pokes through the tired lines in his face.
"There is still some of the squash salad left. I can pack it up for you if you'd like?" Peeta offers. He's halfway to the kitchen when Finnick agrees and follows Peeta through the quaint house. Peeking into the family room as to get a better visual of the house, Finnick spots his son in the playpen throwing his stuffed toys around, giggling wildly. Noah's attention is stolen from his playing when his father's shoes clap against the floor.
The exchange of delight between the reunited father and son has Peeta's heart clenched so tightly it throbs. Finnick doesn't hesitate to swing his boy around, tickle his sides and drop a big kiss to Noah's dimpled cheeks before hoisting him up on his hip. Surprisingly, fatherhood rejuvenated the exhausted business man that stood at Peeta's front door just moments ago.
"I'm taking it this is mine as well?" Finnick motions to the playpen he's plucked his son from. Peeta calls in through the open doorway in agreement as he seals the bowl closed with plastic cling wrap.
"Do you need help carrying it?" Peeta offers as he brings the bowl out into the family room. In that short period of time, Finnick has collapsed the contraption and stuffed the toys back into the oversized carry-on which he now has slung over his shoulder, Noah still perched on his hip.
"If you don't mind," comes his sheepish reply. Assistance must be foreign to Finnick, not that that surprises Peeta. Johanna wouldn't be any help whatsoever when it comes to juggling a child. She only knows how to make them.
Grabbing ahold of the playpen, Peeta secures it under his arm with ease and he leads the way back to the front door. Before leaving, his eyes hold onto the image of the empty, spiralled staircase contemplating whether or not to yell up to Katniss. With a sigh, Peeta holds his tongue and opens the door for Finnick who leads the way across the street and inside the open concept home. The kitchen's to the left; television, sofa and baby saucer are to the right and straight ahead must be the bedrooms. Brutus, who accompanied them, sniffs down the dark hallway and along the baseboards before the bedroom doors.
"You can set that down beside the saucer; don't worry about setting it up, I can do it later," Finnick calls from over the kitchen counter where he's pulling out bottles, tupperware containers and toys. Noah sits perfectly still from his high chair as his father places the dirty dishes in the sink. He fills the electric kettle sitting in the far corner of the counter with water and leaves it to boil, then turning back to Peeta with aged eyes.
Finnick's lower back digs into the counter as he leans there with his arms crossed over his chest, "So, is Katniss doing alright?"
"Y-yeah, just needed some time to herself."
"It didn't have anything to do with me, did it?" Finnick inquires softly, eyebrow lifting begging for honesty. "I'm a big boy, I can handle Catnip's qualms with me."
The casual use of Gale's old nickname for Katniss has Peeta rigid, fingers balled into fists. He was unfond of the nickname to begin with, considering that it feels as if Gale is teasing Katniss for being shy every time he says it. Over time Peeta learned to suppress the bubbling frustration but to have a complete stranger speak with so much familiarity has his body quarreling within itself. Remembering the advice of his therapist in the midst of his rage is a struggle; he didn't have time to conjure that beam of light or focus his energy to make the spiral spin counterclockwise. So he settles on his fifteen second breathes.
Between the counting and the relinquishing of negative energy, Peeta's light blue eyes come to focus on Finnick, who no longer looks as relaxed as he did a moment ago. Peeta's almost glad that he gave him a bit of a scare.
"How exactly did you get Madge to do that which has Katniss in a tizzy?" Peeta asks, confidence dripping in his tone from having bested the man.
Finnick sighs, sifting his fingers through the long, dark waves of his hair. "Imagine Katniss pregnant. And none of that "she's glowing" crap. Imagine her wanting you to tend to her every 3pm food craving and 5am nausea spell; being forced out of bed at four o'clock in the morning when she can't get comfortable, banishing you from the bed only to have her wake up cranky anyhow."
The whistle from the kettle draws Finnick's attention back to the task at hand. Unplugging the appliance, he leaves it to rest as he pulls a mug and a tea bag from the cabinets above the sink, alongng with a fresh plastic insert for a bottle. Opening the fridge, he pulls out a carton of milk and pours until it reaches the top before handing the cold drink with it's rubber nozzle to his son.
"Now, take that image of Katniss and multiply its intensity by five," he continues as his body reacts with a tremor in memory of his words. "I spent the last three weeks of his mother's pregnancy sleeping on the floor."
Peeta tries to conjure the image of a heavily pregnant Katniss griping at him to cater to her whims. But his imagination stops him as he pictures his beautiful wife and her belly protruding with his child.
"Noah may have been an accident, but by no means was he a mistake." Finnick turns and taps his young son's nose, as he stares up at him with those big, innocent green eyes. "I was crumbling drywall when Madge offered to be my temporary fix."
"So, really, Katniss has misjudged you," Peeta clarifies.
"Life is already unfair without me making it more so." Finnick shakes his head as a smile dosed in melancholy floods his face. Peeta's heart weighs heavy and aches sorely as it absorbs the emotion swirling around in the tense atmosphere in the room. He wants to reach out, pull Finnick into an embrace and comfort the man. However, he remains still, his feet frozen in place and arms straight by his sides.
The creak of a door on rusty hinges, the stomps of feet and the click of claws on old floorboards alarms Peeta. He whips around in the direction of the short hallway where Johanna - sluggish and frightening- emerges. She barely registers Peeta as she makes a beeline straight to the fridge and drinks directly from a carton of orange juice.
"Fuck, Odair, why do you have to be so loud?" Johanna grumbles, this time noticing Peeta standing opposite her. She makes no attempt to straighten her posture or pull down the sleep shorts that have ridden up a little too high. "Hey, Bread Boy. How're my peach tarts coming along?"
"Should be ready tomorrow," Peeta replies. Johanna flashes a cheesy smile and a thumbs up before crawling back into the dark hole that must be her bedroom. Working the graveyard shift at a bar looks rougher than it sounds.
"Anyways, I should get going…"
"Sure. Thank you, truly, for watching him. I wholeheartedly appreciate the favour."
"Y'know, if you ever need someone to watch him again, I'd be glad to do it," Peeta says heading for the front door. Brutus following on his haunches.
"Thanks, man. I'll call you next time I'm in need of an emergency babysitter. I'm sure Jo has a copy of your number somewhere," Finnick smiles and waves as Peeta's about to leave. What stops him in his tracks in the gurgle of 'bye-bye' that Noah spurts from his high chair. Wishing the family a good afternoon, Peeta makes the trek back across the street.
Finnick's thought experiment struck him just as he comes up the driveway. Peeta tries to visualize Katniss begging for seemingly unappetizing food combinations and her head deep in the porcelain bowl of their toilet as he holds her hair. Strings of curses falling from her lips as she demands more room in bed. He can imagine how distraught this could make Finnick but it wasn't enough for him to lose his mind over. But then again, Peeta hadn't multiplied the experience of the intensity the appropriate five times.
Thankfully, Katniss didn't lock the door and he gets back in with ease. Calling up the stairs to her, he gets a broken reply from the kitchen. With a cup of tea in her hands and a butter tart on a napkin before her, Katniss sits at the kitchen table with her silver eyes distraught and rimmed with red. The dark olive tones in her cheeks are flushed with the most gorgeous shade of pink; it reminded him of the rosy cheeks of newborns.
"Are you done with your tea, do you want another cup?" Peeta asks, grasping for the mug but Katniss pulls it away with a shake of her head. Her lip,securely between her teeth, begins to quiver.
"Katniss...what's wrong?" He cups his hands around hers. Trying to catch a glimpse of her eyes from beneath the hood of her bangs but with no luck, his wife remains as tightly furled as a ball of yarn.
"I-I'm sorry for running away like that...for leaving you alone. For doing exactly what I didn't want to do," she croaks. The soft gray of her eyes gleam as the bright, white lights overhead emphasize the glisten of fallen tears.
"Katniss, it's ok. I understand." He pushes aside a lone wisp of hair that frames her face.
"No," she snaps out of his reach, sitting against the back of her chair. " I spent so much time trying to protect you that I undermined you, decided not to trust you and your capabilities. I'm not there when you talk to Dr. Aurelius so all I know is what you tell me. I have no idea how much progress you are actually making. Only you know that and it wasn't my place for me to force my judgement when I don't know better. I just...I got scared…"
Her fingers roll around the rip of the stained, white mug as she stares directly at him, strength blooming as she admits to fear. Only one other time has Peeta listen to his wife express her anxieties so openly- she was desperately clinging to the boney, placid hand of her sister. Those shadowed, bugging eyes of Prim's were closed, lungs pushing every breath they could when Katniss expressed, barely above a whisper, how afraid she was that Prim wouldn't make it 'till morning. She wept like the child her sister never got to be.
"Scared about…?" He prompts, wanting to hear her express her fears overtly like she did that day six years ago.
She takes a deep breath. "Having this baby, Peeta."
The fingers that cease playing with the mug enfold on the rolls of fabric that cover her belly. His jaw hangs like lead as his tongue drops like sand in an hourglass. There is no room amongst the shock and euphoria for Peeta to feel hurt and betrayal. She's pregnant. Katniss is pregnant with his child at long last.
"How long?" He wants to reach across the table and pull her into his embrace, but he abstains for now.
"T-twelve weeks. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I just…"
Thank you forever to jeniezee my lovely, fantastic beta :) This chapter is a bit of a throwback, but next will meet the time frame of chapter 17. Enjoy!
Submitted to promptsinpanem tumblr round 4 day 4.
"You got scared," he repeats with a wide grin. The thrill of his baby growing flushes anger further from his body. Rising from his seat he can't hold back any longer; forgoing Katniss' need for space he lifts her from her seat and towards the ceiling where he swings her jubilantly. "But there's nothing to be scared of. I'm right here, I'm going to take care of you and the baby!"
"But Peeta, what happens if our child get sick? As sick as Prim was," her voice remains crisp and eyes sharp as shrapnel, demanding to be let down. Abiding to her silent wishes, Peeta returns his wife to the cool kitchen tiles. "I don't think I could sit there and go through it again. Watch my child wither and die before their life has begun. What if I end up abandoning our child like father abandoned us or Cashmere abandoned Noah?"
Weaving his hands through hers, Peeta holds her close to his chest, not ready to relinquish the warmth and security of their conjoined bodies. The rose coloured glasses that fog his vision clear as the weight of her words sink in. It is entirely possible for their child to develop leukemia and have it rob their child of life like it did Prim. Though, Katniss abandoning their child…
Unbinding their hands, Peeta cups his hands around her jaw, pulling her head from where it lays buried in his t-shirt."I cannot see someone so fiercely maternal, so ready to sacrifice everything for another, abandoning their child, Katniss," he whispers into the dark waves of her hair.
"When I had my...accident...you never left my side. And after you confronted my mother, you successfully dragged me from her confinements and found us a home. You worked yourself to the bone until I was well enough to walk again. Just when I was ready to start pulling my weight and tackling those medical bills, you agreed to take a government job up here in Toronto, telling me I can finally get the help I need."
"That person, doesn't sound like one who would abandon their child. Our child. And if they do, god forbid, get sick, you will love that child without abandon," Peeta touches a kiss to the rushing rivers of tears that flow down her cheeks.
"Oh, P-peeta," she hiccups as her thumbs comes up to rub at his own damp cheeks. Their lips find one anothers, latching on and refusing to let go as if the other were a life preserver. Katniss' nails claw at the thin shirt Peeta has draped over his taut, well-shapen torso, demanding to feel the heat of his exposed skin against her own. He halts her hands, bringing them up to his lips upon breaking their kiss.
"Later," he promises. "Mommy should go relax the rest of the afternoon."
That rosy colour in her cheeks that vanished once her tears began to fall again, returns. Such a beautiful healthy glow. He touches a kiss to her forehead, instinctively bringing that bright, toothy smile back onto her face. They're definitely going to be alright.