I wake to hands sliding up down my back, slipped underneath my open shirt.
I fell asleep?
The house is quiet. I can feel his warmth and know I'm lying on top of Peeta. I crack open my eyes and am met with his calm, soft, gentle blue ones.
It's dark out, but the light is on.
"I'm sorry. I'll move," I start to rise, but his arms lock around me and pull me back down on top of him.
"Don't, baby. I love you. Don't leave." He places a kiss on my forehead, my cheek and then my lips. "So…I wanted to talk to you about something." He whispers.
"Hmm?" I mumble.
"There's so many kids out there…with parents that don't care…so many orphans and baby's put up for adoption. I want to adopt." He whispers. I lock eyes with him.
"What?" I repeat.
"I mean…we don't have to…I just…I really want to adopt." I sit up, planting myself right over his groin, not necessarily doing it on purpose, but not exactly doing it on accident. He sits up and puts his hands on the small of my back. "We don't have to." He nuzzles my neck. "It was just an idea." He mumbles.
I like that idea. "Okay." I whisper. He lifts his head from my neck and locks eyes with me.
"Okay?" he asks. "Okay what?"
"Okay we can adopt. But a baby Peeta, one still on bottles." I say. His eyes light up like Christmas lights.
"Girl or boy?" he asks.
"Boy, because we have two girls…no, actually, I think we'll know when we see the baby." I say.
"I agree with you." he whispers, pulling me closer to him. Since he's only in jeans, and I'm in panties, a black bra and an open button down plaid shirt, we end up kissing. When he starts to pull down my button down, I pull away, putting my hands on his chest.
"No. The kids are asleep upstairs. We can't, Peeta." I whisper.
"They're asleep." He kisses my again, and I almost give in, but I force myself away.
"Peeta," I say sternly. "No."
"Later then?" he asks.
"If we can manage to get them out of our bed first." I whisper.
"Let's go move them n-"
"You can wait. They need to be woken and they need to be fed." I say. he groans loudly. "Stop it." I start to get up, but he pulls me back down.
"Kat, please, I can't wait." He whines.
"No. Not at all now." I say.
"What! Katniss!" he complains.
"Shh!" I hiss. I start to get up again, but once again, he pulls me back down.
"Please? I'll pay you." he says.

PEETA'S POV

I shouldn't have said that. I was kidding, but still, I shouldn't have said that. She shoves me, forcing my arms to let go of her. "You'll pay me?" she shouts in anger. "Like I'm some whore? What the fuck Peeta, what the hell is wrong with you! How dare you say that to me! To anyone!" she shouts. "I'm not someone you can just pay to get sex! I'm not some fucking prostitute! I'm your fucking wife, not your toy!"
"Katniss-" I begin loudly.
"No, you know what, leave me the fuck alone." She shouts at me. She turns around and storms upstairs.

KATNISS'S POV

"Mama, are you and Daddy going to break up like how Nana and Papa did?" Hallie whispers. I'm boiling with anger at the fact that Peeta said he would pay me for sex.
Like a whore.
Or a slut.
Or even a prostitute.
But when Hallie asks me, the three of them sitting, awake on Peeta and I's bed, I realize they heard all of that.
Nana and Papa are Peeta's parents. My parents are grandma and grandpa.
"No honey, we're not going to break up. We're just…sometimes, grownups don't get along. Just like you guys. We argue just like you three."
"But I don't like it when you argue Mama." Bailee whispers.
"I don't like it when you argue either, but…things happen baby." I pull on skinny jeans, a white tank top and then a red and black button down shirt.
"Mama…don't let Daddy go. Tell him you're sorry Mama, please?" Brennan whispers.
I'm not apologizing at Peeta for shouting at him when he practically called me a prostitute without really saying it.
"Daddy isn't going anywhere." I say. it's not meant to be,, but it comes out curt.
"Do you love me Mama?" Brennan asks. I kneel down.
"Come here, all of you." The all walks over to me, and I hug the three of them. "I love all of you, and Daddy, very, very much. Daddy and I are not going to break up." I kiss their heads and stand up, feeling bad now for freaking out at Peeta. "Mama will be right back." I walk downstairs. He's lying down again, his face red, his hands over his eyes. He doesn't notice me until I'm sitting on his groin, pulling his hands off his eyes.
"Katniss, I swear to god. I swear on my life and the kids lives and everyone and everything in the entire universe that I didn't mean to say it and I was joking. You know I don't think about you that way-" I put my finger to his lips.
"Stop. I'm sorry. For shouting at you and…for overreacting. I really love you and I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too." He whispers.
"So…we're good?" I ask.
"We were ever bad?" he asks. I grin.
"Good point." I whisper. "Hal honey, come down here a second?" I shift so I'm sitting more appropriately in his lap. Hallie comes downstairs. "Well…it's your birthday…so what are we doing for dinner?" I ask. "Do you want to go eat somewhere or do you want Daddy to make something?" I ask.
"Can we go eat somewhere Mama?" she asks.
"Of course we can. Where honey?" I ask.
"Can we go to bread? That place with flatbread." She asks.
"American Flatbread?" Peeta asks.
"Yeah Daddy! Can the family come?"
"Of course," Peeta smiles.

…..s…..

And here we sit, at dinner with the rest of our family. As Finnick, Johanna, Peeta and I dish everything that happened in the wilderness, the kids eat. I didn't change my clothes from my jeans, thank top and open checkered shirt. Peeta's hand rests on my thigh, and I can tell he's being clingy because of what he said earlier, but honestly, I'm over it.

Everyone says something or does thing on accident, right?

I swear I'll never forget when I was pregnant with the twins and Hallie was real little, only four months and I slapped Peeta.

And now she's seven. My little girl is seven years old. It's literally like a slap in the face. Seven. Hallie Dakota Mellark is sevn years old. It feels like just yesterday that I gave birth to her and now she's walked and talking and she's not nursing and she's in the first grade.

My throat begins to close and my eyes are suddenly stinging with tears.

"What's wrong, Katniss?" Prim asks me. I hate tears sliding down my cheeks. I stand up and climb over Peeta's lap.

"Excuse me," I throw my napkin on the table and walk out of the restaurant.

I'm not leaving of course, I just need some time to calm down. I get out of view of the window and start to pace around.

PEETA'S POV

"What's up with her?" Johanna asks.

"I haven't got a clue. That was weird." I reply. Everyone is looking at me for answers, but I honestly don't have one.

"Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?" Hallie asks.

"I don't know Hal." I tell her. Mrs. Everdeen and Prim stand up.

"We're going to go find out." Prim announces. They walk off.

KATNISS'S POV

I can't seem to catch my breath as I pace around behind the restaurant, crying and scrubbing tears away from my eyes with the palms of my hands.

"Katniss, what's wrong?" Prim asks, catching my arm to keep me from pacing anymore. Mama and her are demanding an answer with their eyes.

"She's seven. She's already seven. She's going to be eighteen soon! And then forty! And she's going to be married and have kids! She's seven years old already!" Mama hugs me and lets me cry into her shoulder, and Prim rubs her back.

"I know it's hard," Mama begins. "She's going to grow up and she's still going to be your perfect little girl. She's going to find the perfect guy and she's going to give you grandbabies. She's okay honey, it's fine. Embrace it while she's still young. Katniss, you're only thirty two. You can still have more children." I force myself to stop crying. Crying won't change anything. I need to let her grow and make sure I stay by her side.

So I don't let my emotions show as I wipe away my excess tears and walk into the restaurant.

"What happened?" Peeta demands the second I'm back in my seat.

"Nothing." I say.

"Don't lie to me." he says.

"I'll tell you later, okay?" I ask. He hesitates for a long time, and then sighs.

"Fine." He takes my hand, and then refuses to let go.

I don't ask him to. Because I don't want him to.