Work Text:
There was a child-sized purple hand print smeared on their front door when Katniss got home from hunting. She stopped at the sight, unsure whether to be upset that the front door she spent days staining last spring now had rainbow splatters of paint and what she assumed was Calla’s hand print on it, or amused because it meant her children had a good day with their father.
She settled on amusement because a door was just a door and paint-splattered floors and walls meant her home had life in it. That her children had time for fun games like painting and laughing.
Careful not to get any more paint anywhere else, Katniss pushed the door open and called out to Peeta, wondering if he had any clue what their mischievous children were up to that day. Peeta was definitely the more indulgent parent, having a hard time saying no to pleading eyes and quivering lips. For all she knew, he gave them one of his many paint sets and let them have at it, express themselves however they choose.
No one but their new cat Maple, asleep in the dilapidated blanket fort they made last night by the fire when both Calla and Ren didn’t want to sleep in their beds, was in the living room. She smiled at the sight, remembering the wonderful sounds of their giggles as she and Peeta snuggled around their children, singing made-up songs until nothing but soft little snores were heard between them. The paint droplets had made their way onto some of their furniture—yellow splatters could be seen on the arm of the couch they’d bought two winters ago and the corner of the rug, another hand print on her new white curtains—and okay, Katniss was a tad annoyed by that because what was Peeta doing if the kids were having a paint fest in their home?
For the briefest of moments, Katniss worried that maybe an attack had come and her husband was lying somewhere, lost in shimmering memories that never were, but no. She took a deep breath in and counted to ten. Haymitch would be here, if that were the case. The girl was old enough now where she knew what to do when she saw Papa’s face pinched in pain, gripping hard on something, knew to find Uncle Haymitch if Mama wasn’t home.
No, it was just Peeta being his wonderful, slightly annoying, indulgent self.
She heard giggles coming from the backyard, her little girl’s playful screams and her little boy’s toddler babbles, and headed towards the sounds. To no surprise, the drops of paint led out to the backyard and down the back porch where Peeta sat back on one of their many picnic blankets, sketching the scene in front of him. Calla and Ren were chasing after a rabbit that had the misfortune of getting stuck in their yard, playing Hunter, as Calla liked to call it.
“Mama,” Calla greeted, waving a purple-stained hand, “I’m like you, Mama! Look!” and she sprinted after the rabbit, shouting at it to slow down. Ren tried to catch up with his sister, but his toddler legs could only go so fast.
“I’m watching,” Katniss laughed, taking a seat next to Peeta. “Be careful of your brother, though, little bird!”
Peeta looked up from his sketchbook, a sheepish smile on his face. “I take it you saw the house?”
“You mean the new paint job to our front door and hallway? Yeah, I saw.” She moved his sketchbook and climbed into his lap. “Didn’t realize we hired painters. I thought we were done fixing up the place.”
“Don’t be mad,” he said, kissing the top of her head. Katniss smiled at the familiar gesture, loving coming home from a long day in the woods to this, and pulled his arms around her, resting his large calloused hands on her slightly swollen stomach. “Calla was trying to cheer Ren up and thought painting would help since it’s what I do when I’m upset. She’s very perceptive, you know, like her mother.”
Katniss snorted. “More like her father.”
“I’ll clean it up when they tire themselves out. I promise.” He took his sketchbook and set it on her lap, his hand beginning to draw again. Katniss watched for a while as it flew to shade in the way the sun kissed Ren’s white-blond hair, still amazed after all these years at how such strong hands could create such delicate masterpieces.
“What were they painting?” she asked when he set the sketchpad aside, his hands intertwined with hers now. “I didn’t see any of their latest work hanging up.”
“Oh,” Peeta chuckled, “they decided on a living subject today.”
“Please tell me the cat is safe.” Maple looked fine when she came home, but maybe the poor cat had seen things today and didn’t want to be bothered.
“The cat’s fine. Sleeping, like always.” He took their joined hands and reached down to the cuff of his pants, pulling up. Katniss slapped his hand away, glancing furtively at their children. “Nothing like that, Katniss,” he laughed. “Look.” He pulled up his pant leg and her eyes widened at the flowery mural on his prosthetic leg. Large, loopy purple and yellow flowers with a clear child’s touch dominated his long leg, with small intricate orange flowers tucked in between them. She noticed now, that Peeta’s hands were covered in orange paint, just like their children were covered in purple and yellow.
“You let them paint you!” She couldn’t hide her amusement as she traced the loopy designs.
“I did,” he said rather proudly. “We spent all afternoon on it. Calla, Ren, come show Mama your masterpiece!”
Their children ran to the blanket, stepping on and over their parents in excitement as they showed Katniss their favorite flowers. “This one is the prettiest one I made,” Calla explained, pointing to what looked like a purple tulip. “Papa said it was his favorite.”
“I think your Papa’s right,” Katniss agreed, pressing her lips to the top of her daughter’s head. Ren sat in her lap now, sucking his thumb and clutching her braid in his tiny chubby fist, babbling about pretty flowers. “My little artists.”
“You should draw something, Mama,” Calla said, standing up and running to get their paint set. “Draw something pretty for Papa.”
“Yes, Mama,” Peeta teased, stretching onto his back. “Draw something pretty for me.”
Katniss shot him a look before accepting the paints from Calla, deciding on a deep green. She squirted a bit onto her hands and rubbed them together before grabbing Peeta by the face and kissing him on the lips. Calla and Ren shouted in glee at that, laughing how silly Papa looked when Katniss pulled away. Two small green hand prints colored his cheeks where her hands had been.
“I was expecting something like a dandelion,” he joked, swiping some green off his face. “But this will do,” and he bopped her nose with the paint.