Returned (A Mockingjay After Story)

Practise Makes Perfect

After two days of hard labour, mainly put in by me, I have officially moved into Peeta’s house.

I don’t own that much stuff, to be honest. Just the clothes, a few pictures and Buttercup. The rest, like the furniture, I just leave where it is. We thought it would be a good idea to keep it set up for whenever my mother of Effie decides to visit.

Johanna was just leaving for her train to the Capitol when we reached Twelve. We basically had a squeal attack on the platform as I told her about the cabin and she told me about her new boyfriend who, funny enough, is Thom. I couldn’t be sure, but going off of the way her eyes lit up, she was more than happy with him. I would be too, I suppose. Along with Gale, Peeta and Darius, Thom was about the only other really attractive man in Twelve. Well, my mum says my dad was too and that his good looks passed on to me. He couldn’t have been that good looking then, but hot? Definitely. I’m the girl on fire after all so maybe my dad was the man of coal or something.

Effie was still staying in Haymitch’s house, prepared to leave for the Capitol the next day. There was heaps of crying on both sides when we knocked on the door and she came barrelling out dressed in a pair of pyjamas that made my eyes hurt to look at. This was about at 7pm at night and so she set to work quickly assembling a dinner for us. She asked Peeta and me if we wanted to stay, making sure that we didn’t want to have time alone or something. We were both tired and still a little travel sick so odds were if we had gone home, we would have just collapsed on the bed and chilled instead of doing the important stuff like eating.

The next day, after a sleep in of four hours, I kissed Peeta goodbye as he left to check-out the bakery before heading over to my house where my mum was staying for a few more days before leaving for Two. She offered to help with the “heavy” work, but I didn’t need it and she looked so tried I made her a cup of tea and told her to lie down. At first she didn’t, but she soon obliged.

It’s weird, sleeping with Peeta again. Since the train and those few nights after the rebellion, I hadn’t realised how used I got to sleeping on myself, waking up with no one but grumpy Buttercup to cuddle if I got upset from a dream. Just the other night, back at the Cabin, I woke up at two in the morning, feeling this heavy sadness that I have no idea where it came from. Peeta was sleeping on his side, facing me. While I sat there trying not to cry, I just watched his chest rise and fall evenly to relax myself before gently cuddling up closer. He didn’t wake up, but out of reflex his arm moved around my waist and the heaviness was more than reassuring. He beats Buttercup any day.

Speaking of Buttercup, I think he’s mad at me. Sitting directly across from me now, I look up from the book I’m reading to watch his muddy brown tail swish backwards and forwards on the floor with his ears tilted back.

“What’s wrong with you?” I call out. He bares his teeth and hisses at me. “Whoa someone’s in a mood. What did I do to you?”

He looks at me pointedly, like I should know the answer.

“Is it because I left you for a few days? Buttercup, I told you this already. I couldn’t take you with.”

I don’t say that even if I could, I still wouldn’t take him. He would have been hell on the train.

In response, he still looks at me blankly.

“Is it because we’re switching houses? If you don’t like it here, you can always hang around the old home. It’s directly next door.”

Still a blank look. Sighing, I toss the book aside and ask the first thing that comes to mind.

“Is it because of Peeta?”

That gets his attention. Buttercup arches his back, making the hair stick out as he hisses and growls.

“Well, that explains a lot.”

No matter how much we try, Buttercup always makes a break for it when Peeta wanders into whatever room he’s prowling around in. He doesn’t hiss or anything, just runs for it.

The thing is though, he wasn’t always this way. It’s only been since our engagement. Sure he wasn’t all cuddly, but he would allow the occasional pat before wandering away politely. Now though…

As if hearing the whole thing, Peeta walks into the lounge room from the kitchen with a plate of freshly made sandwiches balanced on his hand.

Buttercup, who’s still a bristly ball, growls loudly and Peeta’s worried gaze drifts from me to him.

“Oh thank God,” he relaxes. “I thought you were talking to yourself.”

I giggle and take one of the sandwiches from the plate as he sits down beside me and throws his arm around my shoulders. We much quietly, eyeing off Buttercup.

“Is his hair ever going to lay flat?” he asks after swallowing. “What’s his problem anyway?”

“I think it’s you, of all things. I mentioned your name and he went crazy.”

“What did I ever do to him?”

I have to giggle again.

“You stole me from him. He doesn’t like that we’re a couple.”

As if understanding my words, Buttercup relaxes a little, but still glares at Peeta.

“Oh Buttercup,” he chuckles. “You should know that whilst I am now Katniss’ best friend and of course, husband, you too are now special to me. You’re part of our new family.”

“Umm,” I object. “He isn’t my son by any means. My son would be way more attractive.”

“Your son?” he raises his eyebrows and I blush a little.

“Okay, I admit it. I have been thinking about it, okay?”

His face lights up and he drops the sandwich he’s currently holding back onto the plate so he can snuggle up closer to me and rest his head on my shoulder. Out of reflex, my free hand moves to stroke his hair.

“I’m glad you’re considering it,” he admits quietly.

“Of course I would. I don’t hate children, Peeta. I just need to have the courage for them. I’m still messed up and I think maybe you are too, no offence. We should try and get more stable before we try to raise a child. In the meantime,” my gaze shifts to a still watching Buttercup, “I guess he can qualify as our child. He can be like our doll. We can practise on him.”

Peeta laughs and sits up again after kissing my cheek before standing slowly. Carefully and cautiously, he makes his way towards Buttercup who just watches carefully. I go to warn him about the scratches that would surely occur, but I remain quiet as he whispers softly to the cat, holding out his palm.

One pat, that’s all he manages to get in before Buttercup flips the switch and runs whilst spitting out the room and by the sounds of it, out the window, too.

Peeta laughs and looks up at me from where he kneels on the floor.

“Practise is working. I think we might be getting somewhere with him.”

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~ @Clove-anna