"My thirtieth birthday is coming up soon," Peeta tells me as he prepares a soup for dinner to keep our bellies warm in the cool fall air.
"I know," I grin, watching him from the breakfast bar of the counter like I always do. "Can you believe you're almost as old as your wife?"
He chuckles, "I was thinking that we could celebrate early."
He turns around and looks at me the way he does when he wants something. And not just any something.
"Not this week," I tell him. It's been nine years since we lost our son in utero. After about a year, Peeta started dropping hints during a particular time of the month that he wanted a baby. He never came out and said it directly, he wouldn't dare, but I still know that's what he wants. "You know this week ins't a good week for that."
"I want a baby, Katniss!" Peeta suddenly yells.
I'm taken aback.
Peeta continues, "I want to have something that is a part of you and a part of me, all rolled into one. I want to see you fill out and get a big round belly, a-and yell vile things at me while you're in labor. I want to create life with you, the woman I love. And I don't think that's ever going to change! Is it really so bad for me to want something that will make both of us happy?"
"Getting fat wont make me happy," I shoot back, "Living in that kind of fear won't make me happy. Isn't fear reason alone for me to not give you this?"
"Katniss, this is the only thing I've ever asked you for. Ever," Peeta says desperately.
"Are you trying to guilt me into this? Don't you think I feel guilty enough? To deny you the only thing you've ever really wanted? To see how much it breaks your heart when I say no every single time you ask me?"
"I got you," he whispers, sweetly. "That's all I ever wanted. And now that I have that... I want more."
"That's selfish," I gripe.
He gently places his hand on my lower abdomen, "I want a family that consists of more than just us."
"Get your hand off me," I bite, shoving his hand off my stomach and taking a step away from him.
He rolls his eyes.
"Peeta, I cant keep having this conversation! I can't have a baby..."
"What about Nathaniel?" he yells, interrupting me before I was finished.
"He was an accident," I shout.
"How dare you," he says, spitefully.
"Oh don't make it sound like I didn't want him."
"But you didn't!"
"You better watch what you say," I bite, anger boiling inside me.
"So should you," he snaps. "Look, all I was trying to get at was that we would've already had a child."
"Peeta I'm sorry, I really am, but you know how I've felt about having children since before we got married! And if this is something you can't ever give up... then maybe you need to be with someone who can give it to you. Maybe we shouldn't be together."
"Maybe we shouldn't," Peeta says sadly.
When that phrase escapes his mouth, I instantly feel regret for what I said but I'm still too angry to apologize.
Peeta goes upstairs and I don't dare bother him. We both need time to cool off.
I decide to go to the woods and give him some space. I take my hunting jacket off it's hook and slide an arm in. A door is slammed shut, making me jolt and look towards the stairs. I get my other arm into it's sleeve and begin to put my boots on. Once I finish up tying the laces, I head out the back door and walk to the woods.
I don't grab my bow and arrow. I don't climb the trees. I somberly walk to the lake and take a seat by the bay. I sit there, numb. And suddenly, my body is overcome with cries that seem to have no end until I'm left heaving and gasping for breath. I don't know why I'm sad, and the feeling came out of nowhere. Peeta and I have arguments time and time again, but for some reason this one feels different.
I cry for hours and hours before deciding it's time to suck it up, go home, and make up with my husband. The sun is lowering in the sky, it's position tells me there's about an hour till sunset which means Peeta should have dinner on the table when I get home.
I walk the whole way back to the Victor's Village thinking about what brought on the tears, but nothing comes to mind. I'm just ready to ignore it and move on to make things right with the person I love.
But when I enter the house, Peeta is no where to be found and there's no aroma of freshly cooked food. There isn't a note for me in any of the usual spots I would find a note from him: the dinning room table, the coffee table, on top of my pillow. I head into the guest bedroom to see if he's decided to stay the night in there.
But, again, no sign of Peeta.
My heart begins to ache. I'm starting to think Peeta has actually left me this time. I told him to go and he actually listened.
I head back into our bedroom and go in our closet to look for confirmation of my suspicions.
His side is just about bare.
I begin to pull out each and every one of his drawers.
They're all empty.
I fall onto our bed and let tears overtake my body again. I let out sob, after sob until I've cried myself right into a nightmare filled sleep.
I jolt awake and notice that the window Peeta usually keeps open at night is shut. I tell myself to get out of bed and walk over to open it, but my body isn't listening to my brain. Eventually I convince myself that what I need to get through this night without Peeta's arms around me is a reminder that he is still here. That he'll come back to me. I manage to get out of bed and walk my way over to the window.
When I pull the window open, I notice a new brightness in one of the houses in the Victor's Village. A light is coming from somewhere familiar, but from somewhere I haven't seen a light in a long while.
Peeta's house.
It's official. He's left.
I begin stripping my clothes while tears, snot, and ugly crying sounds escape from me. I pick up one of Peeta's t-shirts that he left from an open drawer and bring it to my nose. I take in his scent one last time because I may never smell him this close to me ever again.
I throw on the shirt and crawl into bed to continue to cry.
How could I be so selfish? He's asked me for this one thing. He gives me everything. I could give him this. But I can't. As much as I want to give in... I just can't. Why am I still so afraid to have a child with Peeta?
A thousand thoughts enter my mind while I'm trying to fight my more than likely nightmare ridden sleep. Now, I understand why Haymitch drinks.
To forget.
I get out of bed and throw on a pair of sweatpants. I put my hunting jacket and my boots back on. I'm headed to Haymitch's to drink because I don't have any alcohol in the house.
I gave Haymitch all my liquor for two reasons. One, I wasn't going to drink it. I didn't have the motivation, or the will, to get off the couch and drown my sorrows in liquor. Nor did I want to. And two, because I knew it would prevent him from bombarding into my home to steel my liquor.
Haymitch is probably passed out, but I don't care. I don't really want to talk. I just want to drink and have a peaceful sleep without nightmares and without needing Peeta to comfort me. Because whether I want to admit it or not... his arms are probably never going to be there to comfort me when I sleep from now on.
To my surprise, Haymitch is awake when I enter his house using the spare key.
He sighs when I enter the room he is sitting in.
"What are you doing here?" he slurs.
"I came to get drunk," I bite. "Do you have a problem with that?"
Haymitch is about to persist, but slides the bottle of liquor across the table closer to me.
"Not that I care, but why the sudden interest in my liquor?"
"Why are you still awake?" I shoot back. "Shouldn't you be passed out from being too inebriated?"
"Touché," he nods, lifting his glass in a 'cheers' way.
I huff before connecting the bottle of alcohol to my lips and tossing back a mouthful of the burning liquid. After I swallow, I pull away making a face. Haymitch laughs at my inability to handle the hard stuff.
"This ain't your first time drinking is it?" he continues to chuckle.
I glare at him which shuts him up. His eyebrows raise and he lightly shrugs his shoulders and takes drink from his glass. I ignore the feeling that my body is pleading me not to take another taste of the alcohol, and take another large swig. It burns my throat the whole way down and makes my stomach feel warm.
"So," Haymitch exhales after we've shared quite a few sips. "You gonna tell me what's bothering you?"
"You gonna tell me why you're still asking me questions?"
"Ok, sweetheart. You can be angry at me all you want but you and I both know that's not who you're really angry with."
"Haymitch, can you just shut up and let me drink with you?"
"It's not good to burry your problems with liquor."
"Says the district drunk," I snort.
"Which means I know what I'm talking about."
I stay silent and stare into his eyes as I take another drink. This one goes straight to my head and the room sort of feels like it's spinning.
"You know, this is reminding me of when I was stung by those tracker jackers and," I start laughing, "everything was so hazy, but this feels lots better."
"Take easy tiger," Haymitch says.
"So why are you still up?"
"We're back to the questions now?"
"Yep," I say, popping the 'p'.
He sighs and takes a swig of his drink, "I don't think you wanna know."
I take another sip and almost choke, "Just tell me."
"The boy was here."
I feel my face deadpan and all the color escape from my face.
"He was?"
Haymitch nods.
"What'd he tell you?"
"That you two had a your worst fight to date," he looks me right in the eye. "And that you told him you guys shouldn't be together anymore, Seriously, Katniss? After everything the two of you went through to be together, you're gonna let him get away?"
"It's not that simple," I defend myself.
"Really? Cuz I think it is."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Haymitch," I find myself getting angry again.
"Then enlighten me, sweetheart," Haymitch sits back, taking another drink from his bottle of liquor.
"Did my lovely husband happen to tell you how this fight started?"
"He just said you got in a fight."
"So he didn't mention that once month he not so subtly drops a hint or two that he'd like for us to have a child?" I say, bitterly.
"No, but that doesn't surprise me."
"He has always been so considerate of my feelings. Not a day has gone by that I have thought that he has been insincere to me. Then I got to thinking and I've told him numerous times that I never wanted children. Every time he's asked I've said no. I've given him explanation after explanation, but he just won't let it go."
"Katniss that man is destined to be a father, just give him a child."
"Why didn't you ever have children, Haymitch?" I snap. "Why didn't you ever move on after your games? After your girlfriend was killed? You were young... younger than Peeta and I."
"This isn't about me," he protests.
"What about Effie? Why didn't you start a family with her?"
"Katniss," he fights back. "Enough!"
"Treading to close to harmful waters?" I ask, and he just sits there. "That's what it's like. He knows I'm serious about this. He knows I'm never going to change my mind. Yet, he keeps asking anyway... with no consideration to how the question makes me feel, or how much it hurts for me to tell him no when I know it would make him so happy. I can't have devastation reign over me for a lifetime when everything goes wrong."
"Why are you so certain it wont work out?"
"That's just the way it seems to work," I say. "I can't give up a piece of myself. I won't. A-And I can't keep living in a marriage where we argue every month about it either. He knows how I've felt on the subject. Why is he trying to get me to change?"
Haymitch shakes his head, "That boy knows you better than you know yourself I think. If he is so persistent, maybe he knows that deep down this is something you want too."
"Determination is one of his strongest qualities," I lightly laugh. "It's what makes him a great baker, partner, and lover. And I knew it was going to shine through every time he asked me for a child."I mean, this is the same man that watched me walk home everyday after our first day of school.."
"So then what's holding you back?"
"Nathaniel," I say, looking down at my lap.
"I'm sorry, who?" Haymitch sits up straighter. "Are you having an affair?"
"God no, Haymitch," I say with a look of disgust and disbelief on my face.
Relief washes over his face and I sigh. I can't believe I'm about to tell him this. I look him straight in the eyes and tell him what Peeta and I have been hiding from him for years.
"About nine years ago I was pregnant," he looks confused, obviously because I don't have a child and we just talked about not having kids. "I lost the baby."
"Sweetheart," Haymitch says sadly, getting out of his seat to move closer to me.
"It was a boy," I say, a single tear escaping from the corner of my eye. "Peeta and I named him Nathaniel."
He just looks at me sadly, and I think this is the first time I've seen real, true emotion on his face. Well, besides our our wedding day.
"I should go," I tell him, and sigh. "Not that I'm going to be able to sleep."
"Go get some rest," he tells me, standing up.
'Don't think I'm going to be able to,' I say to myself.
"Thanks for letting me talk," I hug him, "and for the drinks," I laugh.
"Take it," he offers me the bottle of liquor I've already drunk half of.
. . .
Peeta's P.O.V.
I woke up from a nightmare and didn't find Katniss next to me. At first I was concerned, but then I remembered the big fight we had and that I'm actually staying in my old Victor's house. As usual, my nightmare was about losing Katniss and not having her there to assure me she was okay, I had to convince myself she was just fine.
I went downstairs to made myself some coffee because I knew there was no way I was getting any sleep tonight, and I have a busy day at the bakery tomorrow.
I glance out the window and see Katniss walking over to Haymitch's.
I just pray she is there to talk and not do anything stupid like get drunk with Haymitch. I also hope he doesn't tell her that I was already over there to talk about our fight.
I just can't help but to wonder if Katniss and I will ever be able to heal from this. Will our marriage survive this? Does she really want me gone? I can't imagine life without her, and I know for a fact that I don't want to live with anyone else. I don't want a family with anyone else. I desperately need Katniss to stay with me, but I also desperately want a child.
I get to thinking what Haymitch said. That maybe she just needs more time. Maybe if I give it to her, she'll come around to the idea. But then again, we've been married for 10 years and she still hasn't changed her mind. I don't think she'll ever be ready.
Isn't she supposed to be the one to long for this? Isn't her womb supposed to ache. Aren't women supposed to yearn for children?
However, Katniss isn't a regular woman. She's seen and been through so much, we both have, and it's made her grow up and mature much more quickly than she should have.
Maybe Haymitch is right. When her biological clock starts running out of time she'll come to her senses. Maybe then I can prove to her that caring for a child isn't as scary as she thinks.
A couple hours later, right around the break of day, a knock at my door startles me. It's the middle of the night and I'm not expecting anyone, but that doesn't stop me from going to answer the door. I wonder who it could possibly be. Before I take away the thing blocking me from whatever awaits me on the other side, I look out the peeping hole and see Katniss in one of my t-shirts and sweatpants. She doesn't have a jacket on and she has got to be freezing. I swiftly open the door and quickly pull her in the house.
"Katniss, are you crazy?" I scold her. "It's got to be like 40 degrees outside."
"Really?" she laughs. "It feels so much warmer than that."
That's when the stench of alcohol hits my senses.
"You're drunk," I say, as if I'm informing her.
"And?" she hiccups.
"Come on," I pick her up bridal style. "Let's get you to bed."
"No," she says very loudly. "I came to talk."
"We can talk in the morning, ok?"
"I wanna talk now," she pouts.
I don't say anything and just carry her up the steps to my old bedroom. If I argue with her she'll just fight back. If I don't respond she'll just continue to say what she wants. Either way, I know I won't win.
"I want you to come home," she slurs.
"Ok," I say.
"I love you, a-and I shouldn't have said those things. You're a good guy," she relaxes in my arms and yawns, but forces herself awake. "I-I wanna talk about having a baby."
We enter the bedroom and I lay her on the bed.
"Sleep first," I tell her. "I don't want you making any rash decisions without a clear conscious."
"Baby, my mind has never been clearer."
"Well then talking in the morning shouldn't change what you have to say."
I cover her up with the covers and kiss her forehead. She yawns again and wiggles her head to snuggle into her pillow. I run my fingers through her hair until she falls asleep. When she starts doing her very, very light snoring sounds, I go back downstairs and clean up the kitchen. Part of me hopes Haymitch somehow got her to consider having a baby, but the other part of me isn't getting my hopes up. I check the lock on the front door, shut off all the lights, and head up to join Katniss in bed.
. . .
In the morning, I had a feeling Katniss would have a hangover so I got up just a bit earlier than her to make breakfast. After I finished plating all the food, I placed everything on a bed tray and brought it upstairs. Just as I entered the room, I heard Katniss hurling in the bathroom before I could even see she wasn't in bed. I set the tray on the bedside table and rushed in the bathroom. I collected up her hair and held it back for her as I rubbed her back.
"Thank you," she managed to say once she had finished emptying the contents of her stomach.
"I have a glass of water and some acetaminophen for you in the bedroom. I'll go get it."
I leave her for just a second and return with the pills in one hand and the cup in the other. She grabs them both from me and takes the medicine.
"Are we in your house?" she asks, looking around before taking another sip of water.
"Yeah."
"Did we make up?" she asks.
"Not exactly, you asked me to come home though."
"I remember now," she says.
"Did we?" she raises her eyebrows.
I shake my head, and everything falls silent.
"I made you breakfast," I tell her and she makes a face.
"Sorry, I don't feel like eating much right now. I appreciate it though."
"I understand," I say. "I didn't expect you to actually be sick, but I made toast just in case."
"Thank you," she smiles weakly.
"If you want to go back to bed I can move my stuff back over," I say. "If you still want me to come home that is."
"I want you home," she takes a sip of her water. "And I still want to talk to you about the whole baby thing."
"Ok," I lean in to kiss her, but she turns her head and my lips land on her cheek.
"Throw up breath," she reminds.
"Oh yeah."
"Go," she tells me. "I'll be fine until you get back."
"Alright. I'll be quick," I stand.
"I know."
"Please try and eat something."
"I will."
. . .
Katniss's P.O.V.
I pick myself up off the floor and go over to the bed slept in last night. I see the tray full of food and feel my stomach gurgle. I set my glass down, find a seat on the bed, and place the breakfast tray on my lap. I pick up a slice of toast and begin to slowly much on it. I hear Peeta's front door open and close several times as I consume the breakfast he made and start feeling guilty for not being able to help.
When I decide that I'm full, I set the tray to the side and make the bed. After I finish tidying up the room, I take the dirty dishes down both kitchen and wash them up. I dry them off and put them away. Lucky for me, his house is set up pretty similar to mine so it's easy for me to know where things go.
Just as I am folding the kitchen's hand towel over the oven's handle, Peeta walks in and tiredly slumps down in a chair. I go over to him and place a hand on his cheek, stoking it with my thumb. His hands find my waist and pull me down so I'm sitting on his lap.
"Did you eat?" he asks me.
I nod.
"Don't lie," he warns.
"I swear I ate."
"Good."
"It was delicious. I was actually pretty hungry once I got over the nausea."
"Can we go home now?" he asks.
"Of course," I place my hand on the top of his head and mess up his hair.
He does a laughing scoff and rolls his eyes.
I get off his lap and move out of his way. He stands and pushes his chair in. He quickly does a run through the house to make sure all the lights are off and nothing has been left out of place. He finds me by the door and grabs ahold of my hand. We walk back to the house we call home. I see Haymitch sitting on his porch feeding his geese. He nods in my direction and I send one back his way.
I go upstairs to take a shower just after we step inside. I reek and I want to get this horrid, foul odor off my skin and get into fresh clothes. The second Peeta's shirt joins the rest of my clothes on the bathroom floor, I feel sad that I took the scent of him out of the shirt. I decide to just make him wear it a ton after it gets washed so it smells like him again, and then I'm going to hold it hostage.
Peeta is sitting on the bed waiting for me when I get out of the shower. He winks as I pull the towel tighter around my body.
"What are you doing?" I laugh.
"You said you wanted to talk," he clears his throat, "about maybe having a baby."
"I'm in my towel."
"I can see that," he states like it's no problem at all.
I make an annoyed expression as I pull some clean clothes out of the dresser which now has Peeta'a belongings back inside it.
"And you thought confronting me when I got out of the shower was the best time to do that?" I ask, kind of harshly.
"Yes, well no. I was putting my things back and I heard the water turn off so I thought I'd stay up here and we could talk."
"You didn't think to give me a moment to change and maybe come back?"
"Oh, Katniss, come on. It's not like you have anything underneath that towel that I haven't seen before."
"I know, but still. It would have just been courteous to wait."
"Sorry," he bites.
I slam the drawer shut. It makes a loud noise and makes Peeta jump.
"Should we just get right into it?" I ask, dropping my towel. I start by putting my undergarments on first and soon the rest of my clothes follow.
"Sure," Peeta says.
"I know you want a baby. I think deep down I do too, but after Nathaniel I just don't think I can."
"Why not?"
"Because the odds aren't exactly in my favor, Peeta," I say, tossing my hands in the air. They fall and slap the sides of my legs. "I'm just afraid everything that could go wrong will go wrong. Just like it has my entire life."
"Why do you think that?"
"Two percent," I shout. "There was a two percent chance of what happened in that pregnancy happening."
"That won't happen again."
"You don't know that."
"But I do," he says, moving his body to look at me better. "You're not taking those pills, you haven't been for years. You're healthy and I believe that something good is bound to happen to us. If this is something we both want... our love will win out. I just know it will."
"Peeta, I'm thirty. What if I'm too old to get pregnant?"
"We can try," he looks at me pleadingly. "And if it doesn't happen then at least we can say we made an effort."
"You don't be disappointed?"
He sighs, "I can't guarantee anything but I know that I'll be more heartbroken if we never give it a chance."
I stand there for a minute, thinking. I think about what Haymitch and I discussed last night. I think about the glow in Peeta's eyes when he interacts with a baby and how his smile is just a little brighter when there's a child around. I see his tear stained cheeks when we got the news about our unborn son. I think about everything that could go wrong. I think about everything that could go right. I close my eyes and I see a small girl with brown hair and a even smaller boy with blonde hair playing in the meadow. And that's when I have my answer. After all these years, after all his begging, I'm going to let my boy with the bread put a baby inside me.
I leisurely stride over to him and step inside the 'V' his opened legs make as he sits on the edge of the bed. I twirl his lengthy hair in my fingers before running my fingertips behind his ear. I put my other hand on his shoulder and he looks up to me intently. I slowly lean in, close my eyes, and gingerly touch our lips together. I pull away and open my eyes to see them reflected in Peeta's blue orbs. I put both hands on his cheeks and kiss him for a second time, but passionately. This time when we pull away I don't open my eyes. I just wait for our lips to be connected for a third time.
Peeta kisses me again, lighter this time. Less hungrily and demanding, giving me an out if I want it because we both know what will happen if we continue. He's leaving the initiative up me. Even though we haven't had sex in months— since the last time he asked me about a child— I have not a single doubt in my mind that I want to do this now. With a shuddering sigh I deepen our kiss, pushing us down so we're laying on the bed. Peeta rolls us over and I snake one hand around his neck, resting a hand on his back of his head and pressing him closer to me.
Peeta opens his nightstand's top drawer and reaches inside. He pulls out one of the many foil packages he keeps there and brings it to his mouth to open the wrapper with his teeth. A skill he's learned to flawlessly do from all the years of using them.
I lift my hand to grab his wrist, stopping him from getting the packet any closer to him.
Peeta relaxes his arm, using his hand that holds on to the condom to support his body weight against the bed. He squints at me, questioningly. "Do you want to stop?"
I shake my head.
"No. I don't," I exhale in ecstasy.
"Then what are you doing?"
"We don't need this tonight," I say, removing the wrapper from his grasp.
"Are you sure?"
I smile and nod, tossing the thin packet to the side. "Let's have a baby, Peeta."
As we shred the clothing from each other's bodies, I begin to remember the first time we slept together, intimately. I joked with him about a kiss. The act was gentle and passionate, something that belonged to that of two people who had a mad desire to be with each other. Ten years later we're still we are still madly and passionately in love, but something about the act is different. It feels different, almost maneuver like. We aren't doing this just for fun anymore, or to demonstrate how much we love the other. We have a goal to reach at the end of this. It's just not the same. But at the same time, it's driving me absolutely wild.
***
AN:
Why do I stay up till 2 a.m. writing all the time? Because I love my awesome readers!!
Y'all there a probably mistakes. I haven't proofread the completed product yet but I have to be up in 4-5 hours to help my friend move out of her current apartment and into her new one and I'd really like to sleep. 😂
EVERLARK_4ever here's the last part of our combined idea! How'd it turn out?
waitwhatsasociallife how was that ending?? Lol
Hope everyone enjoyed this!!! Lemme know your reactions in the comments!
Now time for bed for me. I'll see y'all in the next update. 💜💜