FAGEtastic Four

Title: You Are My Home

Written for: Rose Melissa Ivashkov

Written By: TLCullen132

Rating: M

Summary/Prompt used: Prompt 2: How being stuck on a tree brought us together? It has been 15 years. . .

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community / Fagetastic_Four / 98339 /

Disclaimer: Collins owns HG Trilogy. I own a UK-GO BIG BLUE 2012 Nat'l Championship hoodie and a District 9- Go GRAIN! Teeshirt.

15 years later…

I am gasping for breath, covered in sweat, franticly searching the sheets. With the little light coming through the blinds I can see Peeta is already awake with his warm, sky blue eyes staring at me.

It's a little unnerving having him watch me sleep, but I know he means well.

Fifteen years ago we were fighting for our lives, running through a forest and somehow we both made it up that tall, Angel Oak Tree that forever changed our lives. That tree kept us safe and hidden from Cato, shielded us from the storm, and gave us the opportunity to let Peeta really tell me the truth of his feelings. In memory of that infamous tree we transplanted one to our own backyard. On warmer days we would sit in the branches and watch the sunset, but now even with Peeta's strength to pull me up, my pregnant body is too much. For now we just cuddle in its shade and, when the mood strikes, some very heavy petting takes place.

"The nightmares are getting worse the farther along you get. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Your son wants warm, cheesy buns."

Now I just want to get this little hunter out before he takes me out with him. I would love to say that for once something was easy for me, but unfortunately, the first trimester was beyond miserable. I don't even know why they call it morning sickness because mine lasted all day and night. The cheese buns were the only thing I could remotely keep down for awhile but even those, too, would resurface. When the second trimester came, I was feeling better and sicker lesser, and well I think I may have worn Peeta out in more ways than one. And now I feel so swollen, almost like a fat tick, not to mention the fact that most days my back feels like it's on fire because our son is already likes to hunt out the most uncomfortable spots him to be. I also think Peeta will have to use the cart that he hauls loads of flour in to help me get around soon. All I can say is Peeta better be appreciative because, as of this moment, our son might be the only child we have.

I slip out of bed and waddle to the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, I don't really recognize this person staring back at me.

"Every day you become more beautiful."

"Peeta, just shush." I can't help but fiddle with my pearl ring that I now have to wear it tied around my neck since my limbs have swelled. Sometimes I just want to stick a pin in me and see if I'll pop.

"No, seriously Katniss. You are glowing, positively radiant. I think you have more of an effect on me now then you did fifteen years ago. Today, if I encountered Katniss of fifteen years ago, I would be utterly speechless."

I can only roll my eyes; we have a similar argument almost every morning.

I get through my morning routine and slowly make my way to the kitchen, where indescribable smells entrance me so. There is nothing to keep me away from the sheer ecstasy that is his baked goods. I find his heart and soul in things he's created from flour, water, eggs, and butter. I quietly enjoy this moment, watching him in one of his elements. Eyes narrowed in concentration, his arm muscles flexing. The moment when he peeks up and sees me staring with probably my eyes glazed over his smile is so bright; he puts the sun itself to shame.

Not only does this man unnerve me, he leaves me completely undone, flustered and sometimes, though I loathe to admit it to him, even panting in his wake.

Damn these hormones. They have made my husband into an unknowing tease. As he turns around and bends down to put the buns in the oven I can't help it and have to wipe my mouth of the drool that has leaked out. I hope he didn't catch it.

"Katniss are you feeling alright, you look a little flushed." As he passes a cup of apple juice and then he proceeds to wink at me.

That cheeky, smug… GAHHHHH!

"Peeta, I see through that innocent act of yours. You are definitely not fooling me. No Sir."

I grab my cup of juice and walk outside to sit on our swing while I wait for my breakfast.

Our house is surrounded by trees, trees similar to those found in the arena, but oh so different. I can hear the Mockingjays sing and I can't help but hum with them. Though I know sometimes Peeta yearns to hear me sing again, I haven't been able to since the day Rue died. Thinking of her and others I have lost since makes a few silent tears stream down my cheek and my little hunter somewhat anxious inside as he seems to not be able to get comfortable.

"It's ok Draven…shhhh." I rub my stomach where he seems to be moving the most hoping to soothe him. The little nudges are almost like a balm to my own soul. They calm and they ground me to the here and now and not in the past so much. Peeta finally makes his way outside and sits the plate with our breakfast on the little table. When he puts his hands to cover mine and crouches down to kiss my stomach, all seems right in Draven's world and mine as well.

Peeta has made it all worth it.

He hands me one of the cheese buns and sits down at my feet to do something else we do almost every morning: he tells his son a story of good triumphing over evil, tales older than Time itself. From these tales is how we came across Draven's name, his name coming from a time long before Panem, meaning "hunter." Even to this day, the sound of Peeta's voice, his words, the meter at which he speaks, they resonate so deep inside sometimes I fear I'll get lost in them. I absorb them and relish in them just like the sweetness combined with the oh-so-goodness of the cheese in my mouth.

Draven is calm and no longer turning about.

"He loves your stories already, Peeta."

"You think so?" He asks as he reaches to rub my already swollen feet.

At 38 weeks, I am barefoot most days because of the heat and along with everything else of mine my hunting boots no longer fit.

"I know so."

I can't help the sigh that escapes when his fingers apply just the right amount of pressure to my instep. I find that my hand is no longer my own as it creeps over to tangle within his wheat colored locks.

"Uh uh, Kat, lots to be done today. Your possessed hands must keep to themselves today." Peeta turns his blue eyes to look at my grey ones. He gets up and walks back into the house, only to return with my needles, yarn and my poor excuse of what is suppose to be Draven's baby blanket. I can string a bow, mold arrows, and shoot even a squirrel through the eye, but knitting seems to elude me.

"Katniss, you really should try to finish. Draven will be here soon and I need to try to at least get through most of the prep work for Delly's wedding cake. All those little fondant flowers are immensely time consuming and require my strong, nimble fingers to coax them into beautiful blooms."

Did he just really say that to me, now how am I suppose to concentrate on my own fingers when I am thinking about what his can do…

With that he walks back into the house, while I sit here and stare at my knitting job.

The way his fingers run through my hair…

The way they caress my face…

The delicious pressure when he runs them down my spine…

The burn they leave in their wake when he strokes my inner thighs…

The way they sear into my skin when he grabs a hold of my now ample breasts…

The way they…

My needles fall onto the porch and I swear Peeta must have developed bat hearing since I became pregnant, because he comes running out the screen door.

"Katniss are you okay? Is Draven on his way? Do I need to go get Calla? "

"I am just fine, your son is content and yeah, everything is fine."

"Well, I thought since the needles are now lying on the porch and you're all rosy and sweaty maybe you might have had a contraction."

"Umm, no Peeta, not yet. Calla said she would be by around noon for my daily check up."

Calla, Tom's daughter, now that she's all grown up, well at least for District 12 standards, is our midwife. She heads up the small clinic we have here now in 12. They have the essentials but by no means all the fancy gadgetry that the Capital has. We were lucky to have one ultrasound machine, but it still doesn't compare to the one available in the Capital that is like almost like watching your baby being filmed liked a live TV show.

The day we found out we were having a boy, was one of the few times I have seen Peeta cry. Not tears of sadness but tears of joy, excitement and enthrallment. The look of wonder and amazement when we heard his heartbeat rivaled the face he made so long ago when we saw the Capital for the first time. Even now at 32 years old, sometimes when I looked at Peeta, I see my boy with the bread, his boyhood innocence with a heart so big, a heart that filled with so much love for his son in that moment, it couldn't be contained. When he bent over and kissed me and wiped my own tears away, tears that I wasn't aware of, there was nothing else in that room but Peeta, me and the sound of our son's heartbeat. Everything else faded away. Well, faded away until Calla cleared her throat, because we might have gotten a little handsy in our moment.

"Where'd you go Kat?"


"I've been trying to ask you for the past five minutes if you want me to run the bath for you, so you can get ready since it's almost 11:00 and you said Calla will be here around noon."

"Oh, I was just thinking of the day we found out about Draven," I say, as Peeta helps pull me up out of the swing. I can't help but use the motion to help aide me lean up and place a kiss on his lips. When I try to deepen it by brushing my tongue along his bottom lip, Peeta pulls away.

"MMMmm Kat, I wish we could but we just don't have time."

"We'll lock the door, please Peeta, I NEED you…"

"Kat, really, you know Calla always arrives a little early."

"Peeta, I don't think you quite understand," I lean up on my toes and whisper in his ear, "I desperately yearn to feel your hands, ALL… OVER… ME."

I turn to look at Peeta's face and his pupils have dilated so much that there is only a slight ring of blue surrounding the black…

His response was a deep growl and I about melted in his arms.

"Are you mine, Kat?"


He puts his mouth to my ear and I feel the vibrations from his chest down to my feet when responds back with, "Is your need real or not real?"

I can barely get it out, "Real, oh so very, very REAL."

He proceeds to take my earlobe with his teeth.

I shiver from delight, he is gonna give in.

His nimble fingers have a life of their own it seems and find a place at the apex of my thighs.

"I kind of like you as and bothered just by the sight of me nearby. I might keep you pregnant for the rest of your life."

With that all I can seem to do is nod my head repeatedly. I'll just about agree to anything as long as I can feel him crawling all over me, on top of me, feeling him buried deep inside of me.

I'm breathless, panting for breath and he hasn't really done anything.

"So ready, Baby. Mmm..."

First one, then a second finger brush over my quivering flesh.

"You've been teasing me all morning Peeta, with those magnificent hands of yours. That wasn't very nice. I am more than ready for you. I am dying here, won't you save me?"

If I could have gotten down on my knees to beg I would have; I'm completely wanton for him.

When Peeta starts to bend down to be able to carry me into the house, I feel a sharp sudden pain in my back, and I can't help my reaction. It hurts so bad, it's almost like when Cato knocked the wind out of me on top of the Cornucopia.

"Is it time? Its time, isn't it? Kat, don't you lie to me, you better tell me the truth."

His now kind blue eyes are boring into mine.

"I think, I think it's just false labor, Peeta. See it's stopped, all better, good to go."

"Well, now I don't think we should continue with what we were going to do. We should really get you into the bath so you can get ready."

"PEETA!" I ground my frustration out, the man is infuriating.

"I am fine, now back to your husbandly duties. And right now that includes finishing what you started."

"Well, you don't have to strong arm me, Kat. Maybe if you're a good girl, and let me get you all squeaky clean, I might let you get all dirty all over again… mmm I really think so."

With that, he lifts me up and carries me to our bedroom where he then proceeds to deposit me on the bed so he can go run the water. After he gets it to a temperature he deems acceptable, he comes back to me and meticulously removes my dress. When everything is neatly folded beside us, he leans over and crushes his lips to mine. His grip on my thighs is strong, but not so much as to leave a bruise. When he pulls back I am stunned, and as he rests his forehead against mine he whispers, "Come on dirty girl, let's get you all washed up."

The water is just warm enough to relax my muscles, when I feel another sharp twinge in my back. Thank goodness I am underwater when it happens so Peeta cannot see my face scrunch up in pain and I breathe a deep breath out to cause more bubbles.

Draven you better stay put until Mommy is ready for you…

When I wipe the water from my eyes, I see the shampoo in Peeta's hands, "Come here, Kat, let me wash your hair."

I scoot over to him and he leans towards me the best that we can given the amount of space. Again his hands work miracles, they rub and massage my scalp and I can't help the little moans that escape, or the way my breath is coming out and my chest is heaving. And when I feel another sharp pain, I know Peeta can't tell the difference between my pleasure and my pain because he keeps on with those fingers scratching and kneading into my scalp. I may come undone from him shampooing my hair alone, but like the tease my husband is, he stops and reaches for the cup to rinse out my hair.

By the time he finishes with the conditioner, I am tempted to pull him into the tub along with me, regardless of him being fully dressed.

Peeta takes a wash clothes to clean me. He takes his time. His eyes don't stray from his task.

I want his hands to caress and touch me, but he keeps cleansing me.

I grab his shirt and pull him almost in and growl, "Didn't you say you were gonna dirty me up?"

"MMM you're my little dirty girl, I better be extra thorough."

With that his nimble fingers walk their way to where I want them the most.

"Is this what you've been wanting, my sweet, little Kat?"

"Uh huh, don't stop, Peeta, please I need it."

"Ung," another sharp pain hits but even now its heightening the pleasure that Peeta's fingers are creating deep inside of me.

When another one hits, I fully pull Peeta in to the tub and attack his lips to try to bury the things coming out of my mouth, but…

"Oh, Oh Peeta, faster, pluh-eeease…"

He shifts and water seems to be going everywhere, but I am almost completely lost in what his fingers are doing to me. Rubbing, gliding and plunging deeper than he's ever hit before. I can feel him shifting his hips just as much as I am, and hearing the water hitting the floor with every up and down stroke.

I can do nothing now but gasp and grunt along with him at this point because I now finally reaching the edge and I think he is too as his tongue delves deep inside my mouth.

When I pull away and let the scream out into his mouth, I feel the enormous pain and pressure and pleasure all release from me.

Peeta is soaked in more ways than one…

"OH MY GOD KAT, I think your water just broke on me…ewwwwwwwww!"

"Katniss… Peeta… is anyone home? I am here."

I can't seem to catch my breath and unfortunately reality is now sinking in. Draven is coming and it didn't matter what I said, this kid will be the death of me…

Hours later…

My son, he is my little miracle. I can't contain the tears that flow down my cheeks as I hold him so close. I can barely tear my eyes away from him. It's like I am holding a miniature Peeta, and just like his dad, he is already rooting and nudging at my breasts, but Draven wants to be fed.

While he eats I am filled with so many feelings that I can do nothing but release them. My voice starts off small, for it's been so long…

To my only son
listen closely to what I say
if you do this it'll help you some sunny day

Oh, take your time don't live too fast
Troubles will come and they will pass
Go find a woman you'll find love
And don't forget son there is someone up above

As my voice grows I can feel Peeta's eyes piercing me, but I continue on.

And be a simple kind of man
Be something you love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Oh, won't you do this for me son if you can?

Forget your lust for the rich man's gold
All that you need is in your soul
And you can do this, oh baby, if you try
All that I want for you my son is to be satisfied

And be a simple kind of man
Be something you love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Oh, won't you do this for me son if you can? Oh yes, I will

My voice begins to waver, but it's when I feel Peeta sit beside me and wrap his arms around me and our son that I have the strength to finish my song.

Boy, don't you worry you'll find yourself
Follow your heart and nothing else
And you can do this, oh baby, if you try
All that I want for you my son is to be satisfied

And be a simple kind of man
Be something you love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Oh, won't you do this for me son if you can?

I know in my heart things are going to be different now. The things we fought for, they were unknowingly for Draven. He'll have the world and more. In the end it was worth it, for him and for Peeta, everything was worth it.


Disclaimer 2: Lynyrd Skynyrd owns their music I own a Gods and Gun's tee and ticket stub.

Again thank you to my girls: Ro, Zen and DustWriter. QuantumFizzX thank you. Ro is to be credited for lime prompts- without her I couldn't have gotten through it…

Hope this fits the bill, Rose…

All pictures, music, inspiration can be found on my tumblr tlcullen132. tumblr Remove spaces. Tag name You Are My Home, Fagespiration