The shrill cry of a newborn pierced through the stillness in the humid night air.

Wade Mellark sat up in bed slowly, looking over at where his wife lay next to him. Her back was turned, facing the opposite wall, and Wade knew she wouldn't get up – not even to feed her own son.

Shaking his head in his wife's direction Wade stood, stretching his arms above his head as he walked towards the small bedroom his three sons shared.

As he walked the sticky, wooden floorboards creaked beneath his bare feet. Over the years, Wade had learned which boards would creak and which wouldn't, but tonight, he didn't even bother to watch his step – the only person he was afraid of waking was up, screaming his tiny head off.

Ducking into the boy's room, Wade rubbed at his bleary eyes, picking up his wailing son and giving the baby his little finger to suck on. Instantly, the baby quieted, sucking ferociously on his father's finger. Wade couldn't help but chuckle as he peered at the little face, cradling the tiny body in his arms. A shaft of moonlight from the window streamed into the small space, illuminating the infant's cherubic features.

"Handsome little guy aren't you." Wade whispered to the little one, chuckling again as the child sucked away at his finger.

"You take after your daddy, don't you little guy."

Wade bounced back and forth on his heels, a motion that further calmed his son and set the floor to creaking once again.

Moving towards the door, Wade peered through the darkness, making out the small forms of his older sons slumbering in their beds – Rye, with his mouth open wide, soft snores escaping his parted lips and Flax, facedown and sprawled across the mattress.

No amount of noise would wake them, but nonetheless, Wade slipped from the room and padded silently down the stairs, away from the sleeping bodies.

Once in the kitchen, Wade pulled a small bottle of formula from the chill box where he'd left it earlier in the evening for just this purpose. Balancing his son in one arm, he pulled out a pot from under the sink, filling it with water before placing it on the stove to heat with the capped bottle inside of it.

Tired of sucking on his father's finger, the infant let out a tiny squeak of hunger, arms flailing, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling in the air.

"Shhhh," purred Wade softly, bouncing the baby in his arms.

"None of that now little guy, I've got your bottle warming up, just be patient Peet."

Peet, it was the nickname two year old Rye had given his baby brother, somehow finding the name "Peeta" too hard to say. Flax had wanted to call his little brother squeaker, referring to the tiny noises the baby made to express himself.

Wade didn't think much of that name, and so the Mellark boys began referring fondly to the newest member as "Peet".

Short and sweet.

Grabbing the bottle from the now bubbling pot of water, Wade tipped it slightly, testing its contents on his bare wrist. Deeming it appropriate for his tiny son, he shook it slightly before poking the tip into little Peeta's waiting mouth.

The infant sucked eagerly, his large blue eyes wide and round, his silence proving his satisfaction.

"You like that huh; well maybe tonight you'll like it so much you won't get up again."

As the baby went on eating Wade made his way from the kitchen turning off the stove before heading to the sitting room.

Wade sunk gratefully into the sway back rocking chair his mother had given him when Rye was born, closing his eyes and letting his muscles relax.

As much as he wanted to give into his exhausting and doze, Wade forced himself to stay awake, curling his arms tighter around his son. He watched the little boy's face, innocent and alert in the poor lighting around him; Peeta looked back up at him, his wide eyes blinking.

Wade was beginning to wonder if he'd ever get back to bed.

He was beyond tired; at just three weeks old, little Peeta had yet to sleep through the night. Wade remembered Rye at this age, and even Flax – Flax had been a sound sleeper, sleeping through the night at an early age, but Rye had taken much longer, never sleeping soundly until he was nearly a year old.

Sighing deeply, Wade hoped against hope that Peeta would take after Flax.

Looking down at his son again, Wade noticed the bottle was empty, and Peeta was sucking greedily on nothing but air.

He cursed lightly, and felt a small pang of remorse for swearing in front of his son. He knew Peeta was still too small to understand, but felt the guilt anyway.

"That better not be the first word I hear out of your mouth." He said, snatching the bottle from the baby's mouth and wagging his finger slightly.

Little Peeta's brow furrowed then, his lips puckering when he realized the bottle was no longer in his mouth.

Before he could make a fuss, Wade shifted the child gently onto his shoulder, patting the tiny back softly as he sat back and continued rocking.

"Let's try and make this quick Peet," Wade said softly, cooing fondly to his son. "Daddy wants to get back to bed while he still can."

"You can burp for daddy, can't you little guy."

As if on cue, the baby burped suddenly, and Wade was pleasantly surprised.

"Good for you buddy; you're daddy's favorite today."

Wade often joked with his son's about one or the other being his favorite, but both he and his young sons knew this was nothing but fun – he loved them all equally – they were the only real happiness's in his life.

They were all he had.

Shifting Peeta back into a cradling position, Wade stood slowly, his body aching as he lifted himself from his chair.

Peering down into his arms once again, Wade noticed that little Peeta was still wide awake and he'd started to coo softly, gurgling in a language Wade would never understand.

Swaying back and forth, Wade hoped his son would take the hint and settle back in for sleep.

No such luck.

"C'mon buddy, close your eyes." He said pleadingly, but the baby remained bright eyed and cooing.

Wade continued swaying across the floor; he considered singing a lullaby, but lullabies were supposed to be soothing, and Wade couldn't carry a tune even if it had a handle on it – that was out.

Grabbing a fresh nappy from the diaper pail, Wade quickly changed the little boy's pants, hoping this might help him get to sleep.

Even then, the baby remained wide awake, his large eyes searching the room around him as the light from outside grew steadily brighter.

The clock on the wall ticked on, and still Peeta was as alert as ever – Wade however was even more exhausted than he'd been hours before.

In a last ditch effort, Wade covered the little boy in a blanket before heading out the front door to the street.

It was the end of July and the air was hot and humid, even at night, but Wade pulled the blanket tighter around his son, remembering faintly that babies liked to kept tight and secure.

Crouching down the front steps Wade continued to rock his son in his arms, yawning heavily. Looking up Wade noticed that the stars had left the sky and in the horizon the sky was tinged with the soft pinks and grays of the sunrise.

Repressing a groan, Wade shifted his son in his arms and felt little fingers tugging at his shirt.

Stroking the baby's soft, downy blond hair Wade fondly scanned the little face before him.

It was true; little Peeta was already the image of his father.

While Flax looked just like his mother with honey brown hair and dark blue eyes, and Rye was a combination of both his parents, with his father's blond hair and his mother's dark eyes, Peeta was an exact replica of his father.

It was the strangest feeling, seeing himself in the face of his son; he couldn't put words to it.

Pushing past his aching body and tired eyes, Wade felt a surge of love for the tiny child and held him closer, feeling the warmth of the baby's body against his own.

As he sat watching his son, Wade noticed the baby's tiny lips curling upward slightly – a motion that looked almost like a smile.

Grinning widely, Wade brushed his knuckles across Peeta's chubby baby cheek.

"So that's it huh Peet, you wanted to keep Daddy up so you could practice your smiling?"

The baby cooed softly in response, and Wade chuckled; somehow, one little smile had made up for an entire sleepless night.

Wade looked up then and watched as the sun's rim peeked up over the District 12. Looking back down at his son, he noticed that the little boy had finally drifted off to sleep and laughed.

Of course the baby had chosen then to go to sleep.

"You really are something aren't you Peeta."

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and if I should continue!