A/N: edited 02/01/15

At this point I had over 300 review. You're all babes. Fluff warning!

Chapter 21: Happy Families

Katniss

"Fuck."

"What?"

For the past hour, Peeta and I have been lying side-by-side, staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom, talking about everything and anything. It's infinitely more fun than sitting in class. My body is still tingling in the aftermath of the kiss; the kiss that I initiated and Peeta reciprocated to. I find myself almost falling asleep once or twice since his bed is so comfortable, much more so than the lumpy thin blocks we have back in the Seam. I guess I didn't have enough time to appreciate it when I was drunk and naked.

Everything, even down to the air in the room, smells like Peeta. Of soap, bread, and cinnamon. While Gale smells like forest air, coal dust and the special powder Hazelle uses to make their clothes last longer, and I smell like forest air, coal dust, and the lavender Mom has everywhere in our house.

There I go again, comparing Peeta with Gale. I don't know why I'm doing it – usually I just catch myself and have to remind myself that these two people are completely different, whether it's their appearance, right down to the deepest, darkest pits of their souls.

I understand Gale. I know his fears, his hopes, his plans. He is... or maybe was... my best friend, and even though it took almost a year for me to loosen up around him, I'm still one of the only people who truly understands him. Or so I thought. I'm trying my best to attempt to get my head around his reasoning for attacking Peeta like that. Other than the fact that he's simply being protective, I can't imagine why. Surely he would've known that doing that would do nothing but make me angry with him?

However, Peeta is someone I'm yet to learn more about. Basic information is all I know, and when I say basic, I mean really basic. Like that he has his windows open at night to help him sleep. And that he double-knots his shoe laces. But things like his fears, hopes and plans are unknown to me. Hopefully, in the upcoming weeks, months, and (hopefully) years, I'll be able to learn more about the boy with the bread.

"I think I told Gale about the condoms Rye bought you," I say with a grimace, hiding my face in my hands. Peeta tilts his head to look at me.

"Are you trying to get him to kill me?" he asks, his brow furrowed, though his eyes are playful.

"No, I just... blurted it out. Unintentionally. He was taunting me and I got pissed."

"He was taunting you? When?"

"It's nothing."

He shifts more on the bed to really focus on me, his eyes blazing. "It's something to me, Katniss."

"It was this morning before class. He was just making jibes about me wearing your hoodie, which probably wasn't a smart idea in the first place, and he said 'remember that there are many forms of protection around.' And, of course, I forgot to use my brain and said 'I'd have you know that I have some, thank you very much'."

Peeta is silent for a moment, a smile creeping slowly onto his face.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. We walked away and told you to watch your back." I add. Peeta gasps, feigning fright. "I'd be careful through. He can do some real damage. And you still have bruises." I caution, raising my eyebrows and looking at his still-swollen black eye and bust lip.

"I'll walk in lighted streets." Peeta promises.

"There are like four lighted streets in District 12, Peeta. How are you going to stay on just four streets?" I ask.

"I can do everything," Peeta boasts. "But you knew that already."

"Very funny," I say. Again, we fall into comfortable silence. I watch Peeta's shirt stretching and straining every time he inhales and exhales out of the corner of my eye. "What's your favourite colour?" I ask. I might as well start getting to know the father of my child while I'm here.

"Orange." Peeta replies.

"Orange? Really?"

"Not bright orange. A muted orange – like a sunset."

I picture a sunset in my mind and smile. "That is a nice colour."

"I know that you love the colour green. But light green, like for-"

"Forest leaves," I finish, my lips turning upward into a smile. How does he remember all these tiny little details? Most people would forget them, surely.

"Favourite food?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?"

"More than twenty." Peeta scoffs.

And this is how it continues for the next hour. Peeta and I fire question after question at each other.

"Favourite food?"

I say cheese buns, Peeta says banana and raisin cake.

"Favourite animal?"

Squirrel. Human.

"Human? You can't say human!" I say.

"Why not?" Peeta says indignantly. "You only said squirrel because you eat them. When am I ever going to eat a human?"

"Favourite season?"

Spring. Fall.

"Day or night?"

Day, for both of us.

"Fruit or vegetables?"

Vegetables. Undecided.

"Snow or heat wave?"

Unfair question. Snow.

By the time midday comes round, Mr Mellark can be heard serving customers downstairs, and Peeta and I resort to eating the slightly stale cupcakes he brought up when we got here. Peeta attempts to teach me to draw, but gives up after a good half hour's effort and a question of:

"How the fuck does that look like a cat?"

And my answer of:

"What?! It's got a head, body, tail and ears! What else does it need?!"

I suspect that Peeta's father full well knows that his youngest son and soon-to-be-daughter-in-law are just above him, but if he does, it's kind of him not to send us back to school.

"What does Prim think of all this?" Peeta asks me, looking up from his sketch pad to add extra detail to the drawing of my Mockingjay pin.

"Of what?"

"Of us. Of what has happened, and what will happen?" he clarifies, adding more shading to his sketch.

"To be honest, I haven't actually had a proper heart-to-heart yet. But you know Prim. She loves everyone and everything."

"I think she'll like being an Aunt."

"Definitely," I grin. "What about your brothers?"

"Oh, Jesus." Peeta shakes his head.

"Uncle Fenton and Uncle Rye?" I suggest. Peeta looks up at me and raises his eyebrows.

"I don't even have words to describe my feelings about Fen and Rye. In the long run I'm assured that they won't be stupid, but right now, I'm kinda of hanging in the balance."

"And your parents?"

"Mom... Well, you know what she thinks. Eventually she'll come around, I'm sure," he sighs. "My Dad, he's disappointed, to say the least."

"Disappointed?"

"Yeah, he thought that it would be Rye to get us into deep water first, not me," Peeta's brow crinkles. "He's coming to terms with it. Still kind of disappointed, but I can tell that he's excited to be a grandfather."

"He said that he wanted it to be a girl." I tell him, crossing and uncrossing my legs.

"Well, when my Mom got pregnant with me, she was told by all her friends that it looked like she was going to have a girl. So, when I turned up instead, she was pissed. They had to sell all the pink stuff she had bought. My Dad has never had a preferred gender of his child, but still thinks that raising three boys is a complete nightmare because we're 'noisy' and 'messy' and 'irresponsible'," Peeta curves his fingers into quotation marks as he imitates his father's voice. "He wants a granddaughter to spoil, basically." I raise my eyebrows.

"You know, I hate to burst your bubble and all, but you three are noisy. And messy. And irresponsible."

"Whatever," Peeta lets out a laugh. I throw a pillow at him, which he catches and sends flying back towards me.

"Are you really going to have a pillow fight with me?" I challenge. Peeta fights a grin, closing his notepad and putting it and his pencil on the desk behind him, and picking up a pillow from his bed.

"I think I should be the one asking that question, not you," says. I stand and whack him over the head with the pillow. He stands his ground, so I do it again and again and again.

"You've got to fight back, you moron."

"You were warned," he says, swinging his arms back and hitting me again. I strike back, letting out a very un-Katniss like giggle. Peeta is right though, he can hit well. After a good match I fall back onto his bed and wave my hands in surrender.

"Okay, you win," I say, trying to catch my breath. "But it wasn't a fair match. I'm pregnant, and you've had practice with wrestling and stuff." I say, trying to slow my breathing.

"What do you think happens at wrestling practice? We don't have massive pillow fights in the school hall, you know."

I toss my pillow at him. "Don't make up excuses."

"Excuses for my superiority?" Peeta gives me a pointed look.

"Fuck you."

"Charming." Peeta and I try to stare each other down for approximately five seconds, but Peeta's the first to break, letting out a laugh.

"Well, since you don't have a middle name, I'll let you have 'charming'."

"Peeta Charming Mellark?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Why not?"

Peeta

I smile at Katniss and go to my sketch pad, ripping out the finished Mockingjay pin drawing and handing it to her. "For you." I say. Katniss takes it and stares.

"It's ridiculous how well you can draw," she says, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You're only saying that because you're crap." I say. Katniss' mouth falls open.

"What's with all the rudeness?" she asks. "And just wait until I take you hunting."

"That isn't fair."

"We've both had practice at both our skills. It is fair."

"I can bake too." I say.

"I'm gonna kill you." Katniss growls. Suddenly, the sound of something smashing from across the corridor causes us to pause and we freeze, our shoulders tensing as we listen intently for the creaking of floorboards or opening of doors. I sit up, watching the door. Please. Please don't let Mom come in here and find us. All I wanted out of this was a day with Katniss, where I would be able to really talk to her about us. To figure out where we were after last night's kiss.

"Peeta?" she asks quietly. I turn and face her.

"I think she heard us laughing." I whisper.

"Shit."

"That's an understatement."

"Peeta!"

"Sorry."

"What are we going to do?" Katniss asks, her voice panicked.

"Hide in the wardrobe," I say. She shoots me an exasperated look. "It's that or under my bed." Katniss scowls. I hurridly go over to my wardrobe and open the double doors. Katniss gets inside and hides behind the rail of clothing.

"Didn't think I'd end up here either," she says in exasperation. I flash her an apologetic grin before closing the door, and throwing a blanket over Katniss' bag, which is lying on my bed, just in time for my mother to enter the room.

She's in a sorry state. Her hair is greasy and pulled into a ponytail, and it looks like she hasn't slept for days. If she was wearing pants and a stained jacket, she would be a dead ringer for Haymitch during the weekends, which is when he staggers around grumbling about the 'fucking annoying' students of Second School and 'squealing brats' of First.

"Why are you here?" she slurs, her eyes bleary as she squints at me.

"I forgot my homework. Teacher let me come back and get it," I lie easily, forcing myself to stay for used on my mother, and not glance to the wardrobe that Katniss is currently hiding in. Mom would see that, and immediately know something was up.

"That girl isn't here, is she?" Mom sneers, looking around the room.

"What girl?"

"You know exactly what who I'm talking about! Everdeen! The coal-dust covered slut you knocked up! The Seam rat!" I wince at every insult. Katniss is undoubtedly gritting her teeth at this very moment.

"Don't call her that."

"I'll call her what I damn well want to, you ungrateful child!"

"Katniss isn't here, Mom. It's just me." I say tiredly. Mom frowns.

"Don't ever let her near my house ever again, you hear me?" I nod. "Disgusting people. They should never be allowed near us."

"Do you want a glass of water?" I offer, guest earring to the jug sitting on my desk. Mom nods. I pour her a drink and hand it to her.

"Get back to school. I don't want you here any longer than you have to be."

"Yes, Ma'am." I nod. Mom leaves the room. I don't breathe a sigh of relief until I hear the door to my parent's bedroom lock shut.

"Is she gone?" Katniss' disembodied voice calls from my left.

"She's gone." I say, opening the doors. Katniss steps out and straightens her braid.

"I can't believe you offered her water after what she said to you," she says, her grey eyes sad.

"I can't believe you didn't storm out of there and slap her." Katniss smiles sheepishly. I look up at the clock nailed to my wall. We have under half an hour before school ends. Today went by faster than I thought it would.

"We should get going," Katniss says, pulling her bag up onto her shoulder. Her foot kicks something hidden under my bed, so she bends down to see what it is. "You put our baby under your bed?" She asks incredulously, pulling out the flour sack we were assigned so many weeks ago and have swapped too few times.

"That was the only place where it was safe."

"The floor?"

"It was this or being used in the kitchen," I say. Katniss sighs and pushes the sack of flour back under the bed.

"Effie won't be happy," Katniss pulls a face and waits for me as I pull on my boots. We wait at the top of the stairs, and I listen to my Dad bustling around in the kitchen. "When he goes past and into the shop, we'll sneak out into the back." I instruct softly. Katniss nods. Dad walks back into the shop front, holding a basket of bread rolls. I step down the first step, my boots large and clunky compared to the soft leather ones that have moulded into the shape of Katniss' feet, like a second skin to her.

Once we get to the bottom, I pause again, before heading towards the kitchen, and crossing the tiled floor and pulling the heavy backdoor open. Katniss slips past me, and I close it as quietly as I can, before we half run, half walk down the side street.

"You going to the Winter Ball on Friday?" I ask, deciding to strike while the iron's hot.

"Mom and Prim want me to. Why?"

"Would you come with me?" I question hopefully.

"Friday?"

"It starts at seven, in the square," I inform her as we round the corner. The school gates are in sight. There are a few parents waiting outside the gates for the youngest students to come out of the old grey building.

"I'd love to go with you, Peeta."

"I'll pick you up at seven."

She presses a kiss to my cheek and waltzes away towards her sister before looking over her shoulder with a smile on her face. "I'll wear something warm this time."