Soli Deo gloria
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Hunger Games. Here is something a little cutesy for y'all. One-shot.
*Katniss Everdeen's (sorry—Mellark's) PoV*
Peeta better well be happy about this. I'm holding my hair back with one hand and puking into the toilet with the other holding onto the seat. He's off at his bakery and he'll be back in an hour and now I'm feeling too weak to get mad at him. I'm not mad at him, of course; it's more like I have the urge to clip him upside the jaw. That was the puke speaking, of course. And fear. But even if I did clip him upside the jaw, he'd be so ecstatic by my news that he wouldn't even remember to put some damn ice on himself.
Peeta Mellark, soon to be father.
I hurl into the toilet again and barely even hear the sound of the downstairs door opening. I hear his voice calling, "Katniss, you home?"
Well, he's early.
"I'm in the bathroom!" I shout, spitting rotten little bits of stuff out of my mouth.
I hear him come up the stairs. I cough and turn my head to see him in the doorway, looking alarmed. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks hurriedly, placing a hand on my back. His hand feels nice but at the same time I want to slap it away.
"No, I just like hurling, that's all," I say sardonically. Angrily. Intentionally trying to be mean. Oh no. Is this how I'll be for the next few months? A feeling of panic rises up inside me.
"Does your stomach hurt? Should—should I get someone to come see you?" he says. I feel my feelings of annoyance against him fall when I hear his frightened tone. "What's wrong?"
I gulp a minute before I look up into his blue eyes and say, "We're going to have a baby, Peeta."
A small smile spreads across my face as he backs away. His eyes are huge, and one of his hands folds up into a thumb's up. He seems to be fighting the urge to scream as he bites his thumb excitedly, a smile showing through. "Really?" he says, a note of worried uncertainty in his voice.
"Yes," I say tiredly before I turn back to the toilet and throw up.
"Oh, gosh," I hear him say. "I—just, I don't know what to say—"
"You're welcome," I say before I gag.
"I-I love you." He runs over and hugs my bent back.
"Let go, let go, let go," I say hurriedly. My stomach's churning again.
He instantly backs away and before I know it, he says, "I-I gotta tell Haymitch!" and he rushes out of the bathroom.
"Seriously?" I say. Was he seriously just going to go tell Haymitch, who lives next door, that I'm pregnant? I can't really blame him, though. There's not much here he can do besides pat my back as I throw up more. Besides, Haymitch needs to tell Effie, who'll practically die upon hearing it. It cheers me up of thinking of her surprised face.
I groan and wait for more to come up but thankfully none does. I wash my hands and mouth out before I trudge downstairs. The minute I flop onto the couch, Peeta comes darting back into the house and rushes to the kitchen. I close my eyes as he rushes over, phone in his hand.
"I'm going to call your mom, and Annie, and Johanna, and, hey," he says, "do you remember Gale's number? He'll be so happy at the thought of being an uncle!"
I don't answer him; I'm too tired. I melt into the couch, my muscles releasing, my breath slowing to a steadier pace.
Peeta stops speaking; I don't hear the buttons on the phone being pressed. I instead feel a soft kiss on my forehead, and he quietly runs his fingers through the hair on my scalp, softly, slowly. This is how I fall asleep.
When I wake up, Peeta's nowhere to be found. Instead, on the table in front of me, is a bouquet of freshly picked lilies. I tiredly sit up and pick up the lilies. They feel lovely and fresh in my hands. Their stems aren't worn down and are all the same length.
I hold them up and inhale them for a moment. Soft, beautiful fragrance. Much better than my barf had smelled. I slowly get up (groaning), and head to the kitchen to put them in water.
There's something in the oven; I can smell it, and it's not making me nauseous. Nice. I stick the lilies into a hand-painted vase (by the boy with the bread, of course) and place it on the kitchen windowsill.
I turn to go back to sofa and see the back porch door open. I slowly peer out to see Peeta sitting on the porch. The soft late afternoon breeze makes his hair fly around, and the smile on his face is so delighted and genuine. I smile and join him. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, and together, we watch the sun set.
"Think of any names yet?" he asks quietly. "'Cause, you know, I'm thinking Wheat, Rye, or maybe even Pumpernickel."
I smile. "I have a couple."
Eight months later, we're back on the porch, holding a tiny brown-haired, blue-eyed Lily Rye Mellark. Mom's in the kitchen, watching us and smiling softly. I lean against Peeta's shoulder and we relax a moment before we hear Haymitch coming in through the front door, then quickly surpassed by an ecstatic Effie.
Needless to say, the look on her face is priceless.
Peeta and Katniss fluff and stuff! ALL THE FEELS. Yeah, I named their daughter Lily and their son Benjy.
I hope you like it, and thank you for reading!