A/N: Yeah okay so I thought I was done with this story, but apparently not! haha. This will actually be the official last chapter. True Story: I'm so anal that I didn't like that there was only 4 chapters and thought 5 was a more well rounded number so I dreamt up this little drabble to wrap this story up a little more completely :) Hope you enjoy and please please please do review - I need some inspiration to keep me writing people lol. I'm losing my muse a bit but vaguely contemplating adding on to some of my other one shots or working on new pieces. Anyways, REVIEW!

I wake to the sound of a pencil scratching against paper.

Repetitive, gentle, familiar strokes of a writing utensil against the rough surface of parchment bring me into consciousness. I take in my surroundings - the light and warmth of the morning sun peeking in through the open window, the sheet that barely reaches my waist, the sheer, see-through night gown I wore to bed last night as my only article of clothing because of the heat wave we've been experiencing - all of them noted before I even open my eyes.

When I finally peek one eye open I'm greeted with the sight of my husband sitting on a chair at the side of our bed, his back to the window. His ankle is crossed at his knee with a large notepad on his lap. He is in deep concentration, using the pencil in his hand to transfer the image floating around in his head to the paper in front of him. He continues working, not yet picking up on the fact I'm awake yet and it dawns on me that he hasn't taken his eyes off of me, that I am what he is drawing.

Instinctually I make a move to sit up, but I barely move an inch before his gentle voice stops me.

"No, please," Peeta says softly, "I'm almost done."

Reluctantly I oblige his wishes and remain in the position I woke up in, feeling my cheeks redden as I become more aware I'm the object of his fascination.

"Don't be shy Mrs. Mellark," Peeta quips and I can hear the amusement in his voice. "You are beautiful...and I do love when you go to bed in that nightgown and nothing more."

I can't help but laugh, squirming underneath the sheets and taking a peek down at my chest. The morning light is bathing my body in a warm glow and underneath the thin material of my nightgown the two dark circles of my nipples are clearly visible.

"You pervert," I tease Peeta, trying to bite back a grin.

Peeta just laughs and continues working on his drawing. A few moments later I hear his pencil stop as he stands up and puts his notepad on the side table, coming over and planting a kiss on my forehead.

"Thanks," he whispers, cupping my face in his hand. "I got back from the bakery just as the sun was starting to rise and I couldn't not draw the image of you like this, asleep, barely clothed, draped in sunlight."

I smile at his words, sighing contently and joining our lips in a soft kiss.

"Are they up yet?" I ask as he deepens the kiss.

"Nope," he grins against my mouth, "I figure we still got a good 20-30 minutes."

"That sounds tempting," I murmur as he crawls on top of me in bed

"Very tempting," he agrees and his mouth consumes mine, using his tongue to touch and feel and taste me. He moves his mouth down my throat, to the hollow of my clavicle, and across my chest.

He pushes himself against me, trailing his hand from my waist up my side and then gently cupping my breast in his hand. I groan and arch my back, pushing myself into him as he tugs my nightgown down and exposes both my breasts.

"Peeta," I sigh as his lips close around my nipple and his hand massages my other breast. I squirm with desire, feeling myself getting wet as I let sensation take over. He trails a line of hot, steamy kisses to my other breast and repeats the same process, letting his mouth and hands bring me to the edge.

I am panting with desire when he slides down my body even further, pushing the flimsy material of my nightgown that barely reaches the top of my thighs, up past my belly, and shooting me a sly grin.

"Oh my god," I moan as I feel his tongue against me. I buck my hips in response, lost in the feel of my husband tasting me. I grip the bed sheets and try to hold on as he starts to push two fingers inside of me.

"Fuck Peeta..." I whimper, but he only increases the pace of his fingers and the pressure of his tongue.

He keeps working me at a desperate pace until I'm breathing erratically, moaning uncontrollably and feeling the tension build and build.

Finally, I cry out, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through me as my mind goes blank. I am incapable of speech or movement for a long moment and I only regain my senses when Peeta moves back up my body and places a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"I'll go get breakfast started," he says with a smile. "After all, it is a big day..."

Almost on cue we hear her up and about, out of her room and moving around the upstairs landing loudly, talking to herself and making an impressive amount of noise for a 5 year old.

Peeta is gone before I even have a chance to consider it, leaving me to savor the after effects of my orgasm as I attempt to recover enough to function for the day.

I allow myself a few more precious moments of quiet and solidarity before getting dressed and heading downstairs. She is at the table drawing quietly with the pencils and crayons Peeta bought her for her birthday. Peeta is moving around the kitchen, attempting to prepare breakfast with one arm as he holds the boy on his hip.

I press a kiss to her hair and then move to take the boy out of Peeta's arms. He shoots me a grateful smile but before he can return his attention to breakfast I pull him towards me by the front of his shirt, sharing a deep kiss as a silent thanks for earlier.

When we pull away we're both breathless, but our intense moment is interrupted by the boy's loud babbling nonsense that makes us laugh. I put him in the high chair and sit down beside her, watching as she focuses on her drawing just like her dad earlier this morning.

"Are you excited for today?" I whisper and her face lights up, beginning a steady stream of talking that doesn't really let up until Peeta puts breakfast on the table and even then she mumbles through a mouthful of food.

I try to keep up with her excited rambling between feeding the boy but she has so much to say and one thought turns into another and I eventually stop trying to keep up and just take in her pure joy and enthusiasm for her first day of school.

She is so much like Peeta sometimes it's scary. She is bright and outgoing and has no problem communicating what she wants. She's warm and kind and would rather be baking or drawing with Peeta than doing just about anything else in the world. The boy is still young but I see more of the both of us in him. He can be stubborn and determined, but patient and kind when he wants to be too.

After she finishes breakfast she races upstairs to get ready and I send Peeta to make sure she picks a nice dress and socks that actually match. When I finish changing the boy she is back downstairs looking presentable in a blue dress and holding a hair brush.

"Daddy said to put my hair in two braids instead of one. Isn't that a good idea?" She announces coming over to sit in front of me on the couch.

I laugh loudly and freely as a warmth of happiness encircles me and brings back a rush of memories. "That is a good idea," I agree as I begin to brush her hair and she is off, chatting away about how other girls will wear their hair and what her teacher might be like.

When Peeta reappears downstairs I am working on her second braid and I shoot him a knowing look. He shrugs and we share a secret smile.

Peeta is on the floor with the boy playing with the building blocks and stuffed animals that seem to cover every square inch of the living room. When I finish with her hair she joins them and I head into the kitchen to get everything ready for the day.

I stuff the picnic basket with plenty of Peeta's freshly baked rolls and throw in some cheese and berries as well. I go in search of our spare blanket and then decide we have everything we need for our little picnic.

The girl doesn't have to be at school until after noon since it is just the first day and it apparently is more of a welcoming party than anything. Peeta suggested we make a family trip out to the meadow last night beforehand and I couldn't have been happier at the suggestion.

Something to distract from the worries and anxiety over her starting school that have been bugging me for the past few weeks.

I feel the typical motherly emotions of disbelief that she is growing up so fast and melancholy that she will be off in her own little world now rather than spending every moment with us. At the back of my mind though there is more than just those concerns and they are harder to push away.

"You ready to go?" Peeta interrupts me from my thoughts.

I glance up at him with a smile and nod in agreement. It only takes a few tries, but eventually we are out the door, Peeta and I walking hand in hand, the boy in his arms, and the girl skipping happily ahead, as we make our way towards the familiar meadow.

When we get there we lay the blanket out and remind them of the boundary lines of where they can and can't go. Peeta and I collapse down onto the ground and the boy and the girl are off, stumbling through the high grass, laughing and shouting as they embrace their newly acquired freedom.

I watch them play, seeing how he struggles to keep up with her, but is stubbornly determined to do so, despite his short legs and shaky ability to even stay on his feet. The sun is bright and warm, but we are granted a cool breeze on this late summer day.

I take a deep breath, imagining that after today everything will be different. We can't fully protect her anymore from the dangers and unknowns of our world. Not right away, but she'll learn about the games soon and I wonder how that will affect the rest of her life. We'll prepare her for it of course, but we can't protect her from what other people say or do when they know who she is, when they know she is the daughter of the star-crossed lovers.

Peeta tries to assure me it won't be as bad as I'm imagining. Little kids don't gossip and they're too young to really understand the significance of who we are, what we did, or what happened. There might be some overzealous or noisy parents that might care, that might make a scene, but they won't affect her.

I just don't want her to be at a disadvantage because of who her parents are, I don't want us to be a burden she has to deal with. When my thoughts get really dark on this subject and I'm moody and depressed Peeta will gently chide me that we should be grateful these are our only worries, that we don't have to concern ourselves with her name being called at a Reaping one day.

This is always enough for me to snap out of it and get my head on straight.

"Hey, you okay?" Peeta questions tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear and looking at me in concern. I must have been staring off into space for a while.

I flush, guilty for being caught up in these thoughts again. "Yeah, just...you know..." I trail off and after a moment I see the realization in his eyes when he gets what I've been thinking. He tries his best to hide his scowl, but he is unsuccessful.

"Don't worry," he mutters as he places a kiss to temple.

I smile back weakly at him. "Go grab them, we should eat lunch now."

He hesitates for a moment, looking at me in concern before jumping off the blanket and heading in the direction of their loud voices. I pull out the bread and the cheese and the berries and start preparing the meal, enjoying the sound of their playful shrieks and squeals as Peeta makes a game out of chasing them back to the blanket.

Finally the girl collapses down beside me, nearly sitting on the food and yelling in joyful triumphant. "I won!" She declares before stuffing a roll of bread in her mouth. Peeta appears behind her moments later, breathless, with the boy in his arms. "Yes, you did." He concedes and slowly lowers himself to the ground and we all sit in relative quiet, eating our simple meal.

When I'm nearly done feeding the boy mashed up berries and cheese she is back on her feet, jumping up and down eagerly, ready to head to school. "Okay, okay," I placate her, getting everything back in the basket and sharing an amused smirk with Peeta.

We pack away our little basket and head towards the school the same way we walked towards the meadow, her leading the way.

When we find her classroom it is already full with a dozen other boys and girls her age, their parents lining the wall of the room, everyone chatting loudly. She takes off immediately like she is already a teenager embarrassed to be seen with her parents and finds an empty desk near the teacher who greets her and starts talking to her and introducing her to the other children.

Peeta puts his arm around my waist and makes small talk with the couple standing beside us. I smile weakly and try to keep up with the conversation but I am mostly back to being awkward and shy in front of people. The crazy part of me is looking around the room for anyone staring at us or her, whispering quietly.

After a while I start to relax when I realize how paranoid I'm being and then the teacher, a petite redhead with freckles, a little younger than Peeta and I, introduces herself. She welcomes all the children and parents and goes on to explain what they'll be learning throughout the year and helpful activities we can do with them at home.

I finally start to feel a little comfortable with everything, watching the girl drawing at her desk, talking to a small blonde girl with a bow in her hair, beside her. I take in the other parents around the room, all intently focused on their own children rather than Peeta and I. The thought makes me smile until I catch a glimpse of a pretty blonde woman in the corner surrounded by two other woman, one who is very pregnant, who are all staring rather obviously at Peeta and I.

Wait, no they're not looking at Peeta and I. They're only looking at Peeta. The thought makes me frown. I was the deranged Mockingjay, they should be staring at me like I have 3 heads. And then it hits me that the blonde woman is Peeta's most frequent customer. The woman who makes weekly trips to the bakery and spends all her time flirting with my husband.

I grit my teeth and pull him closer to my side, but they barely seem to notice. Oddly the notion of these woman lusting after my husband is almost liberating. I can handle them pining over him from afar and I'll take that over them gossiping about our past or my daughter any day.

Finally, after snacks and refreshments are passed around the room to the children and parents alike, the teacher tells us we are excused so she can get class officially started. Peeta grabs my hand, and with the boy in one arm, leads the way outside, bypassing the women staring at him without so much a second look.

I try and give them my best 'back off' look but they are too busy admiring the flexed muscles of his arm holding our son and the way his t-shirt clings to his broad chest. I can't really say I blame them.

We walk back home in relative silence, Peeta asking if I reminded Haymitch what time she gets done with school today. He usually spends most afternoons with her and the boy anyways so we decided to keep the habit going and assigned him to picking-her-up-after-school-and-walking-her-home duties. The more time he spends with her the happier he is and the less he drinks. It's a win-win for everyone.

It gives us a few hours of peace and quiet to relax and get used to what will now be her daily absence.

When we get home Peeta takes the boy upstairs to put him down for his nap while I put away the supplies from our picnic. I am deciding what rolls to have for dinner and what to save for tomorrow when Peeta reappears in the kitchen beside me.

I am debating if the cheese will stay for another day or so when I hear Peeta practically shouting my name in exasperation.

"Katniss!" He exclaims, looking at me in bewilderment. "I've been calling your name for the past 5 minutes."

"Oh sorry," I frown, surprised and embarrassed I have been spacing out that much.

"What's going on?" He asks, clearly concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I don't know...I just..." I trail off, not quite sure how to explain where my head has been at.

"You've been off in your own little world since the meadow," he says, his eyes betraying the worry he's trying not to show.

"I'm fine, Peeta," I offer him a weak smile and turn my back to him, attempting to refocus my attention on sorting out the food from the day.

He doesn't say anything for a moment and then I feel his hands on my hips, pulling me flush against his groin, his lips immediately finding that curve of my neck and planting soft, wet kisses against my skin. I can't help a small moan when I feel him grind his growing erection into my backside.

His hands move from my hips to my front, one hand spread flat over my lower stomach, holding me still against him, and the other snaking up to my chest, massaging my breasts through the thin material of my dress.

"Peeta..." I breath, tilting my head even further to the side and granting his lips easier access to my neck.

In an instant he stops and leads me over to the table where he pushes me face down so my chest is flush against the counter. I am leaning over the table surface and his hand is at the back of my neck, holding me in place.

Breathing hard, I hear him using his free hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants. I feel my entire body instantly react and I am writhing with need as he pushes up my dress from behind and pulls my underwear down my legs.

He slams into me hard and fast and I cry out, gripping onto the edges of the table as I try and hold on. He keeps one hand at my neck, holding me still as he continues his relentless assault, his breathing heavy and labored.

I bite my lip and try to meet his thrusts with my own response, but my legs feel like they would give out on me if I weren't lying on the table. He pounds into me over and over again and I feel every muscle in my body building towards that ultimate release.

"Faster," I pant and he just grunts in response and continues slamming into me mercilessly.

I whimper and feel my muscles clenching around him, everything exploding at once, shooting intense waves of pleasure through every fiber of my being. I cry out in ecstasy and his thrusts stops as he stills inside me, coming with a low groan and a shudder.

He collapses on top of me and then rolls to his side, each of us trying to calm our erratic breathing and regain our bearings.

"That was..." I trail off, because mind blowing doesn't quite seem to describe it well enough.

"Sometimes I feel like that's the only way to get through to you," Peeta lets the words slip before he can stop himself and I see the guilt in his eyes for admitting this.

I can't help but feel a little like I've had the wind knocked out of me. Part of me is hurt, part of me is angry, but part of me also knows he has a point. I'm hurt that he wouldn't make more of an effort instead of just immediately resulting to physical action. I'm angry that he thinks I'm so cold and heartless that sex is the only way to get through to me. But ultimately, I can't help conceding there is some truth behind his words.

Sometimes I am so in my own head, lost in my worries and fears, that no matter what Peeta does or says, I am trapped in my own little world of anxiety and depression until he snaps me out of it with a kiss or by making love.

I open my mouth to respond and then close it, realizing we are both still lying on the table. I stand up and take his hand, bringing him over to the living room where I pull him to the floor beside me.

"I know," I concede, taking his hands in mine. "I'm sorry. You know me. Sometimes I just get caught up in these thoughts that are hard to push aside..."

He sighs, reaching out to touch my braid and playing with it absentmindedly. "I know," he relents, "it's not your fault. I just hate to see you worry."

I pull him into a hug and relish the feel of my husband's warm body against my own. We are both still almost fully dressed, his pants only pushed down a little past his hips and my underwear around my knees.

"That was a very nice distraction though," I admit, shooting him a small smile.

He laughs and joins our lips in a kiss and when we break apart I tell him, "I do feel better though, I was anxious earlier about her first day, but I know she'll be okay. I'm fine now, really."

He studies me for a moment, debating the truth behind my words, and then decides to accept them, cupping my face in his hand with a smile.

"Okay," he whispers.

I pull him by the front of his shirt towards me so our lips meet in a kiss, pushing my tongue into his mouth and moaning as he returns my passion.

"And now," I mumble against his lips, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head, "I want you to make love to me, slowly and sweetly."

He grins, reaching for the buttons on my dress that he starts to undo with his nimble fingers. "That I can do," he murmurs and we take our time, peeling off each other's clothes until we're both completely bare, lying on our living room floor.

We are lost in a daze of passion, taking our sweet time, savoring one another. We are in no rush and we let our hands and mouths slowly explore every inch of each other's exposed flesh. I chant his name like a prayer as I tell him I love him over and over again, pleasure coursing through my veins.

Every ounce of my being is consumed by this man, my husband, the father of my children. He makes me come twice before I slide down his body and take him in my mouth, claiming him as mine. Later, when he finally pushes inside me I cry out in a whimper, overwhelmed by the fullness, his nearness, the feeling of him inside me. He keeps a slow, steady rhythm, rocking me into oblivion. It's a drastic change from earlier on the table, but equally as satisfying. We come together and he collapses down on top of me, pushing the air from my lungs, our sweaty flesh melting into one.

And sometime during the afterglow of our lovemaking - before Haymitch opens our front door with the girl tagging along behind him, only to immediately shut it when he catches a glimpse at our bodies and realizes what we've been doing, keeping her outside and distracted while we haphazardly throw our clothes back on - I cling to Peeta's sweaty body, running my hands through his hair and whisper something in his ear that makes him laugh.

"I guess her being at school will have it's upside."