Chapter Text
It was a typical Saturday morning for the Mellarks, which in the later summer, consisted of Peeta coaching his sons in flag football. They were a family of five now, with a fourteen-year-old girl, Ivy, and two younger boys, Blaze and Flint, ages 9 and 11. God, Peeta couldn’t believe he had a teenager now.
Peeta stood on the field surveying his team of hardcore youngsters, wearing athletic shorts and his coach’s jersey. The jersey was a deep green, Katniss-inspired, of course, with black italicized letters spelling out their team name on the front and ‘Mellark’ on the back‒all the jerseys, likewise, had the players’ last names and were numbered.
Today was the first game of the season, and Peeta’s team had congregated mid-field in small circles within the larger group. His boys, Blaze and Flint, were standing together, roughhousing, naturally, along with another boy on the team, Riley.
Peeta and Katniss’s sons both had blond, curly hair, Blaze’s being thicker and shaggier, and they had their mother’s gray eyes. They looked a lot alike, actually, and were sometimes mistaken for twins, although Blaze was considerably smaller in frame than Flint. He was younger, though, and might grow into his brother’s size.
Originally, Katniss had been concerned about the boys playing football, especially their youngest, Blaze, who was still quite small for his age. But he’d wanted to play with his brother so badly, and it wasn’t like it was tackle, so she’d agreed to it.
Blaze and Flint turned out to be natural athletes. Flint was a given, considering how strong and stocky he was, but Blaze came as something of a surprise. Although much smaller, he was quick and agile; he could run like the wind for extended periods of time.
Katniss was a spectator today, of course. She was always present at the practices and the games, wearing her own personalized jersey and playing the role of supportive mother and wife to perfection. Their daughter was there, too, watching her brothers play as she often did; however, she did have a book in her lap in case she got bored. Sometimes she brought a sketch pad and sketched. She wasn’t very patient with it, but she’d been trying her hand at art lately. Now and again, old Haymitch would even make it out, toting a concealed flask, of course, but he wasn’t in the best of health these days.
Standing on the field on this hot, sunny day, Peeta couldn’t help but think how different things were now. How casual and light. How happy and peaceful they were. And how minuscule his troubles seemed. These days, his biggest worries were keeping his boys from getting hurt and making sure guys weren’t checking out his daughter or wife. And that was saying a lot.
Although the hijacking had never completely left him and he’d still occasionally have an episode, they were few and far between. He could control them well by now and usually came out of them quickly, and more often than not, the kids never even knew he’d had one. But they were aware, vaguely, that he experienced these occasional traumatic relapses. He and Katniss had never gone into a lot of detail with the children, but they’d explained his condition and had shared the memory book because of course, it was important that they knew, and they’d learned about the Hunger Games in school, anyway. It was a big part of Panem’s history, after all, and no one wanted to repeat such atrocities, so it had to be taught.
District 12 was far different now. Poverty and starvation were no longer rampant, and it was actually a nice place to live now, for the most part. There was, of course, the occasional drama. And, unfortunately, it often surrounded Katniss and Peeta...
Even though it had been over twenty-five years since the war, Peeta and Katniss were still remembered as the Star-Crossed Lovers from District 12, and Katniss would forever be the Mockingjay. It wasn’t like anyone came up to her asking for her autograph, but they were both still semi-celebrities in District 12. Fortunately, the hype had died down a great deal.
In the beginning, it was kind of bad. Some of their old neighbors returned to D12 after the war, though not many, and on top of that, others migrated there, many for the express purpose of being around Katniss and Peeta, the famed ‘Star-Crossed Lovers’ and war heroes. More often than not, Katniss was praised as the great heroine of the Rebellion, but there were those, mostly supporters of Coin, who regarded her as a criminal, or at the very least, a tragic girl who’d gone insane after the death of her sister. The former were ones they’d had to be wary of.
There was some stalking over the years and even a few more depraved, delusional individuals who made it their mission to try and break up the Star-Crossed Lovers and keep the pieces for themselves. Whether they were actually interested in Peeta or Katniss or were just in it for the challenge, Peeta didn’t know, but of course, together, they shut it down right away.
Things were much calmer now, for most of the current District 12 residents were of a new generation. It was a young group as most of the surviving residents didn’t return after the war or had passed on. And life was peaceful for the Mellarks, their days being spent baking and hunting, working and playing and tending to the primroses, the last fifteen years full of memories of picnics in the meadow, (Katniss) teaching their children to swim in the lake, and so much more.
With gratitude in his heart, Peeta turned to admire his wife on the sidelines. She looked gorgeous as always and equally adorable. He loved seeing her in her jersey and ball cap with her braid slung over her bare shoulder. And then, yes, there were those short-shorts of hers…he really, really loved those. Problem was, other guys seemed to enjoy them, too.
Damn, he was too old to be jealous. But he couldn’t help it. He’d seen it before, and he could see it now, guys trying to discreetly eye Katniss up yet failing miserably at being discreet, and even ones moving their lawn chairs ever so slightly closer to her. Those were the ballsy ones. Some guys just needed to keep their eyes in their heads and focus on the game and their own wives, not his. And they definitely needed to keep their distance.
Of course, Peeta dared any man to mess with Katniss Everdeen-Mellark and live to tell about it…
And then, there was his daughter…
Peeta’s eldest, the precious girl who’d made him a father in the first place was the spitting image of her mother, save for the blue eyes. Ivy was of the same cloth as Katniss, too. She loved archery and hunting, and just being outdoors; thus, she didn’t mind sitting out in a field, watching her brothers play football. Fittingly, Ivy had taken to the bow, and her first kill was celebrated with great excitement. And at least once a week, usually on Sunday, Katniss would take her on an early morning hunt. They’d be gone from dawn to dusk, and that was when the boys had their quality time together, which usually consisted of baking, building blanket forts, and wrestling. Then the boys would rush to clean up before the girls returned, and they’d have a big feast when they did.
Peeta was observing his daughter now. She was seated in a chair beside her mother reading one of those wilderness novels; he didn’t know the exact plot, but it was one where the main character goes off into the woods to survive or something. As usual, Ivy was dressed similarly to her mother, in a matching Mellark jersey, tennis shoes, and tiny black shorts. Peeta liked that his daughter hadn’t yet reached that age where she was embarrassed by her family and that she wasn’t totally indifferent to supporting her brothers; he appreciated that she came to watch nearly every Saturday and that she, mostly, paid attention. He also appreciated that she dressed in the gear, but those shorts…
He couldn’t say he approved of how short his daughter’s shorts were, but he couldn’t blame Katniss or Ivy. It was hot‒neither of them liked being hot‒and they wanted to be comfortable. Still, he didn’t have to like that their lean, shapely legs were on display for all the boys and men of their community. Maybe he was being too strict.
Another thing about Ivy, she was undeniably beautiful. And much to Peeta’s dismay, at only 14, she was already starting to look like a woman‒and being regarded as such. He’d hoped to have a few more years before this became a problem, but it was already beginning. As for the boys he’d noticed who’d been looking, they were unabashed about it, but they didn’t seem completely fearless. And they were right to be cautious. If they paid any attention in school they should know what they’d be getting into should they decide to pursue Ivy Mellark‒they’d be dealing with an expert markswoman, strike that, two expert markswomen, and two Victors of the Hunger Games.
Peeta walked over to his girls; they looked up and smiled at him upon approach, both sensing him long before he got near. He didn’t have much time to chat with them, though, before he was being beckoned to the 12-yard line.
His assistant coach, a thin, dark-haired young woman in her mid-twenties by the name of Rosa, was the one calling for him. “Coach Mellark!” She waved him over. “Get your butt over here!” She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side, giving him that mock-frustrated look he’d seen a few times.
“She’s bossy,” Katniss remarked. “Isn’t she supposed to be your assistant?”
“Eh, she’s just playing around,” Peeta assured. Katniss pressed her lips together. It was no secret his wife disliked Rosa, and he was fairly certain he knew why. Peeta’s lips turned up in a small smirk. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You know you’re the only one who gets to boss me around.”
Katniss’s silver eyes narrowed.
Oh. He’d pay for that one later. But he hoped in a good way. Okay, so, sometimes, he had to admit, he teased Katniss on purpose because, historically, when she got angry with him or even pretended to be, things got kind of hot.
Peeta gave Katniss a quick kiss to the forehead before she could protest or move away out of spite, and he jogged off. Thankfully, so far, his prosthetic was holding up nicely. He wasn’t one to praise the Capitol, but he had to say one thing for them‒they’d done a good job on his leg.
Rosa stood with her hands planted on her hips. “Hey, Coach, nice of you to join us.” She grinned as she slapped him on the back.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Peeta chuckled, and they headed over to the team. He clapped his hands together a few times. “Okay, let’s get started. Huddle up, boys and girls!” he commanded in true coach fashion, for he treated his kiddos like the real athletes they were. And yes, there were a few girls on the team, and quite frankly, they were the ones he had to rein in from time to time and remind that it was ‘flag’ football, not tackle football. Oh, how they reminded him of his own daughter at a young age, wild and untamable.
***
“Did you see that?” Katniss asked almost rhetorically from the sidelines.
“What?” Ivy asked.
Katniss leaned forward in her chair, straining to get a closer look at the retreating figures of her husband and his assistant coach. The brash girl had given Peeta‒what he would call‒a friendly clap on the back, but it had been far too low, in the lumbar region. Katniss knew athletes and their coaches sometimes congratulated each other with a friendly slap to the rear, which she never really understood, but this was youth flag football and a coach doing it to another coach, and a younger woman, at that, who had no right putting her hands on her husband.
“If she tries to slap his butt, I’ll break her hand,” Katniss said aloud without realizing it. She clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Mom?” Ivy turned toward her mother, her lips tilting slightly in amusement.
Katniss shook her head and said, “Never mind.” She was probably overreacting.