We Live On

The Perfectly Imperfect Family of 12

"Heyheyhey, daddy said he'd make us pancakes this morning!" Willow exclaims, jumping up and down in my lap excitedly. His face lights up.

"Cake!!" He exclaims, bouncing up and down.

"No Rye, PANcake," I chuckle.

"Cake!" He squeaks. Peeta chuckles and picks him up, standing up out of bed.

"Alrighty chillens, go on downstairs and mommy and I will be down in a few minutes." He says as Willow leaps out of bed.

"COME ON RYE, IT'S TIME FOR CAKE!" She sings, running out of the room.

"Cake!" Rye chirps, toddling in his best attempt to run after her. Peeta closes the door and turns back to me, smiling. He takes me silently in his arms and presses his lips to my own for a long, lingering kiss. I smile through it, my hands cupping his jaw line.

"Good morning Katniss." He whispers to me softly. I smile.

"Good morning Peeta." I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my chin on his shoulder, his own slipping around my waist.

The rebellion is over. It ended seven years ago. Three months after, Peeta came home. One month after that we got "back together." Seven months later we got married. One year later we had Willow. Three years later we had Rye. Two years later we're where we are now.

Lots of numbers.

District twelve is rebuilt, the kind of twelve Peeta and I never got to grow up in. That's the reason I agreed to have Willow. And then eventually Rye. Our lives aren't perfect, nothing really is. Nightmares snake themselves into my head in the late hours while I sleep. The Capital's hijacked flashbacks appear behind Peeta's eyes, dragging him back under with them for a short while as he grasps the chair, using all his might not to lash out. And our children witness it all. They understand none of it, they'll have to do that soon enough. To soon for our tastes. But Peeta says it'll be alright. We have each other, and that's all we need.

We eventually have to pull away, to get dressed and make sure the kids aren't trashing the kitchen without our supervision. I pull on some jean shorts and a tank top, Peeta in some cargo shorts and a green v-neck. I follow him down the stairs where he freezes at the bottom.

"Oh God." He sighs.

"What?" I ask, looking over his shoulder. I freeze also.

"Oh God." The kitchen is powdered white with flour, along with the kids, bowls scattered all over the place and various ingredients all over.

"Alrighty Rye. It says add two cups all purpose white flour." Willow instructs Rye as he scootches around the kitchen while she sits cross-legged on the counter, reading off one of Peeta's recipe cards. He picks up the flour bag off the floor and shakes it around, nothing more coming out.

"Out!" He squeaks.

"Okay. Then we'll just use more eggs. It says grab one egg, but we have to add two cups and one times two is two and two plus that two is four plus the first egg is five, so grab five eggs." He concentrates on his hands.

"Five?" He squeaks. She nods, holding out five fingers.

"This many eggs." They're a team. They always have been, Rye her little sidekick who followers her and accomplish tasks together. He comprehends and nods gathering five eggs in his arms, ready to fall any moment.

"No!" Peeta exclaims, bolting over to Rye and scooping him up.

"Dadee!" He squeaks happily, eggs tight in his arms.

"Rye, put the eggs on the counter for daddy please," Peeta says calmly. Rye does as he's told, happily resting them tenderly on the counter. I take him in my own arms as Peeta goes over to Willow.

"You're gonna give daddy a heart attack, little boy." I breathe to him. He wraps chubby arms around my neck and I kiss his cheek as Peeta sighs at Willow, his hands on his hips and his look expectant. She smiles happily all the same.

"Hi daddy!" He doesn't smile.

"You gonna tell me what happened here?" He says sternly.

"Yes, I will tell you! Rye wouldn't stop whining that he was so hungry so you know as a good big sister I decided to make some for ALL of us, but Rye was tearing it open, it FLEW all over the place and BABOOM here we are now!"

"Wrong!" Rye squeaks, twisting around to face her.

"Wrong?" I ask her, eyebrows up. Her jaw drops.

"No! He's lying! That's exactly how it happened!" He turns back to Rye.

"Rye, did you tear the bag open?" Rye looks at the ground.

"Yeah." He says glumly. Peeta comes and scoops him up, holding him at his hip.

"Now you know it's not right to lie." He says gently.

"Yeah." He says softly.

"You know better now, right?" Rye nods.

"Yeah." Peeta smiles and kisses his forehead.

"And that was very nice of you Willow to take care of your brother like that." He adds. Willow smiles proudly. "Just next time, just...just wait for me next time? I wanna join the party!" He exclaims. She nods and grins.

"Can we have pancakes yet?" She whispers. He smiles.

"Now we can." He says, handing Rye back to me.

"Cake!" He squeaks.

"Yes Rye, we're having cake for breakfast." I say, bouncing him up and down. His face lights up.

"Cake!" He cheers. Peeta chuckles, getting a broom and sweeping up the floury mess.

"Don't fill his head with false hope, Kat," He chuckles. I snort.

"I'm not trying to. I just don't think he can say 'pan' and 'cake' together." I say, pulling a new bag of flour out of the cabinet.

"Rye, can you say pancake?" Peeta asks him.

"Pahcake!" He chirps. He nods.

"And what are we having for breakfast, Rye?" He asks.

"Cake!" He gestures to the little boy.

"You have plagued our son's mind." He says. I snort at this and dust the flour out of Willow and Rye's hair.

"Momma are we having cake!?" Willow exclaims. I chuckle.

"No sweetheart. Rye is just confused." I say.

"Daddy, CAN we have cake?" She begs.

"We can have PANcakes." He says.

"Cake!" Rye squeaks.

"No, PANcakes."

"Daddy means cake."

"I think he does." I say.

"Thanks Kat, knew I could count on you." He jokes. I stick my tongue out at him as he starts on breakfast.

This is the Mellark family, the perfectly imperfect family of District 12.