The Hunger Games Fic: Peeta Mellark & his children - I won't let nobody hurt you, won’t let no one break your heart
Summary:
Just a short reflection on Peeta Mellark breaking cycles and growing into the best father he can be.
“His children grew up faster than he could have prepared for, and, as young as they still were, he could already see the contours of who they would become.”
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An old lady once stopped by Peeta’s side on the market and played with his daughter for a bit while he tried to juggle holding both her and his bags.
“She gets like this sometimes,” he explained, struggling with his cargo as the woman smiled kindly at him, “needs to be carried everywhere or else.”
The unknown lady laughed and then stepped back to stare at them one more time before leaving. “Enjoy, dear. The days might be long, but the years will go by far quicker.”
He had heard the advice before, received it countless times after becoming a father.
And it was true, to an extent.
His children grew up faster than he could have prepared for, and, as young as they still were, he could already see the contours of who they would become.
It was all there in the stubborn quality of his son’s grin, so similar to Katniss’, or in the glint of his daughter’s gray eyes when she was challenged to run faster or climb higher.
He could see himself too: his girl’s patience as she fed the stray cats of their neighborhood and gained their trust; his boy’s love for painting portraits. It scared him half to death some days — how hard his son tried. How much his daughter was willing to fight.
In the end, some days seemed to last years for Peeta, and that’s what most people didn’t seem to understand. Days when he couldn’t force his body to get out of bed. Nights when he felt too warm and too restless to get any sleep.
Katniss would tell him his fear was real but that the awful thoughts that followed it were not.
“What if I ruin them?” He questioned her once, and his wife laid a hand on his chin, forcing him to face her.
“You won’t.”
“I might–”
“You won’t.” She told him, matter-of-factly, and the touch of her skin against his was Peeta’s only tether to reality.
Katniss would not tell him kind lies. She would always tell him the truth, as ugly and painful as it could be.
That is what made it easier to believe her. He trusted he was good enough for his family because Katniss did. He knew he wouldn’t become who his father used to be because Katniss knew it too.
Then again, Katniss had her days too.
When she woke up in cold sweat and a scream dying down in her throat, reaching out blindly for Peeta. She would repeat the question that kept them both afloat through their darkest times. The question they had taught their children to ask when they were scared or unsure.
“They’re safe. Real or not real?”
She didn’t need to explain. He understood there were only two people in the world they were as scared to lose as each other.
“Real,” he assured, knowing it was the truth.
Their children would never know a world where the type of cruelty their parents endured was possible.
When he had similar nightmares, painted in red and sorrow, he would haunt their house’s hallways and find his children’s bedrooms. The only thing that could ground him was the sight of their peaceful forms sleeping soundly.
Tonight, though, it was no nightmare that kept him up. He had stayed up late to finish off his work at the bakery and decided to check on the kids before going to bed.
His daughter was sound asleep, upside down in the bed with one arm over her eyes and the other enveloped around her teddy bear. He chuckled quietly at the sight and pulled her blanket properly over her chest.
When he checked on his son, though, the boy was awake in bed, his blanket pulled up to his chin as his tiny hands held on to it for dear life.
“Dad?” He called out when Peeta stepped through the door.
“Hey, kid,” he answered, settling by his bedside. His son immediately threw his arms against his middle and placed his head on his lap. “Are you alright?”
He held on even tighter and whispered, “I heard something. It’s under my bed. I think it’s a monster.”
His son’s face had been overwhelmed by a grimace, and Peeta cradled his cheek carefully to say, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”
The lemon tree outside his window creaked loudly, and the boy startled, sitting up straight once more against the headboard. “I heard it again, dad!”
Peeta had half a mind not to laugh, knowing it would be of no help.
“Okay, okay. I’ll check, alright?” He said instead, dropping to the floor and lifting the blankets.
Peeta couldn’t help but be reminded of his own father’s disdainful laugh when he had a similar nightmare many years ago.
“Don’t be stupid,” his dad had blurted out, “Go back to sleep and stop bothering me.”
He had spent the whole night up, terrified that something awful was coming to get him. His father had hit him the next day when a sleep-deprived Peeta burned a batch of bread.
Peeta found no such monsters underneath the bed, as he had expected. He returned to the bed and caressed his boy’s hair softly, “It’s alright. There’s nothing under your bed.”
“Are you sure?” His blue eyes sparkled with tears as he worried his lip between his teeth.
“Yes. I promise.” Peeta reassured him. “Come on, I’ll stay with you tonight.” He settled under the covers, and his son was quick to place his head against his chest, enveloping his waist with his tiny arm.
“You’ll fight the monsters for me.” His son whispered, already tipping over the edge of sleep. “Real or not real?”
Peeta kissed the top of his head and vowed, “Real.”
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Katniss watches closely their firstborn, her cardbon copy with blue eyes, grow into an older sister like she used to be.
Their little girl is constantly generous with her patience, generous with her love, never letting go of her brother's hand first. Katniss can't blame their son for being so drawn to his sister, always following her around, in close resemblance of a tiny baby chick.
She's the one who can put her brother quickly at ease when Katniss is tending to his scraped knees or shooing a insistent flu away. There's no fuss in the simple task of trimming their baby boy's nails and hair when the little one uses her words. Always so talkative and eager to share her imagination, branching up stories from the songs their mother sings for them only.
Sometimes Katniss gets lost in her thoughts when looking at their children, brought to reality when Peeta reaches for her. But she has caught him staring too.
"She looks so much like you." she comments one day as they watch their children play with some of their father's paint.
"She looks a lot like us, both of them do." Peeta answers as he, with all the time in the world, pulls her close and places a tenderly kiss on her temple. Affection her body was already instinctively expecting to receive.
Katniss knows deep inside they did something right, that everything is alright when their daughter can offer and give so much without missing or lacking anything in return.
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