He doesn't quite know how to ask. She doesn't quite know how to refuse.

It's been nagging at them for months.

His eyes will glaze over in a strange way at the mention of childhood or children, even during their almost nightly routine, and there's a longing in them. Something to be desired. He can't phrase it right, he doesn't want to hurt her with "Would you- can you- have kids?" The trauma they'd both went through left stresses he wasn't sure she could overcome, but he didn't even know how to ask.

Her eyes will sharpen and jaw will tense when his words stumble, or his movements slow, and the subject is dropped. She spends every day scared to death of losing him and she can't bear the thought, bear the idea, of his pain, and she can't bear the weight of another little person to worry about.

He loves her, real, and she loves him, real. But she can't manage another person she needs to protect.

She lies in the lamplight, stretching like a cat, muscles tired and skin warm from a day in sunlight. Her eyes flit to him, standing in the doorway, hand on the frame, hesitating and staring at her. She smiles, wriggling into a more comfortable position as he crosses the room to join her.

He slides into bed next to her, body hovering over hers. Her gray eyes spark with curiosity and she offers a smile ripe with anticipation. He smoothes the hair back from her face lovingly and chokes on his words. Her brow furrows. She can feel him trying.

He surrenders, nuzzling his face into her neck. Her hands find his tension filled shoulders and gentle massage, trying to work the question out of his body and far, far away. She heaves a gentle sigh that ruffles his hair.

"Let me hold you." she says quietly.

He slowly settles himself on top of her, careful, so, so careful of his weight over her. He sometimes can't believe she can take it, but she always can. She's strong. His arms slide around her, holding her close. They cling to each other like children. This is all they can manage some nights. They lie in silence.

"Something's bothering you." she observes, tangling a hand in his hair.

He shakes his head too quickly, too readily, and her eyes glint with knowledge. He wants to ask her again.

"Peeta." She prompts him, waiting as patiently as she can.

She is answered by silence. She presses a kiss to his head.

"I just don't know how to ask you so you'll say yes."

The unspoken question is a line they'd only toed before, and this is as close as they've gotten to bringing it up.

She closes her eyes tightly.

"Peeta, I'm scared. I can't."

He pushes himself up on his elbows, letting one hand rest on the side of her face.

"Katniss…"

Her eyes fill with tears. "I want to make you happy, but I just can't."

He shakes his head.

"I'd never make you." he says solemnly. "I don't want you to think…"

She interrupts. "But it's what you want. I'm sorry. I want to give you what you want. You deserve nothing less than that. But I can't even think about having a baby now." The word hangs between them.

He rests his forehead against hers, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Just not now?" he says, trying to mask that beautiful, childlike hopefulness in his voice. She can hear it, and she loves it so damn much it hurts. It breaks her heart.

Her voice gives out as she starts to say something, and he closes his eyes tiredly.

She takes a deep breath and kisses him again.

"Not now, but also not never." She says timidly.

He smiles and kisses her brow.

"Well, I just hope I can see your pretty face on our own little boy or girl."

She rolls her eyes and swats his ribcage. Her hand rests on the spot, smoothing it over. Her instincts for survival involve not letting anything hurt him, so her usual roughness is always softened seconds later, as an afterthought, even following trivial things like kicking him under the table as a joke. Even when he's teasing her and deserves a little affectionate shove, before he can even take the force of it, her hand is wrapping around his arm, pulling him close, holding him. She needs to soothe even the idea of causing him pain.

"Only if they have your eyes." She muses quietly.

His breathe quickens against her neck. This is more than saying 'maybe' or even 'yes' to his question, this is her picturing their children. That is enough to tide him over for the evening.

"Peeta." She says quietly, shyly.

"Yes?"

"What if I really can't?"

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

"No…like, if I wanted to, but I just…can't?"

Her eyes are locked on the window and the darkness outside. They have that glaze over them that she gets when Prim is mentioned. The look of loss.

"I don't…you know…anymore. I haven't since the first games."

She shuts her eyes. Barren. The stress her body went through lingers after all these years. She can't create with him. Her gut wrenches. She felt safe with this knowledge, hoping she wouldn't have to deal with this. She didn't even want to have children; it was one less thing to worry about. But Peeta, she was willing to give him anything to make him happy, and she knew she couldn't give him what he wanted.

He rolls off her and then it is her being held by him, arms locked around her tight like he is shielding her.

"I don't care, it's alright."

She shook her head.

"It's what you want." She says in a small voice.

"Katniss, during those first games, I loved you despite knowing you'd have to kill me eventually. Even after all my memories were tainted and I thought you were a monster. When I thought we had no time left for any of this." He motions around their room, in the house they shared in Victor's Village. "Do you think this is going to change that? No."

She lay there, unmoving, but her eyes turned to him, open and a bit afraid.

He took a deep breath. "You love me."

There was no need for her to answer this, after the first few times he asked this she made sure he never needed to ask again.

"And I think our lives would have been very different if I didn't love you as much as I do. I have you. That's all I want."

She is silent. Her face is unflinching, but her head was reeling, and he knew her well enough to see it.

His hand slides to stroke her back. "Right now, you said you didn't want to have kids. So we're not having kids, for now. And if you decide you want to, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Don't get upset."

She smiles weakly at him. "Why do you always have to be so amazing?"

He pushes her hair out of her eyes. "Years of practice, while I was waiting for you."

She rolls her eyes. "Nice. Did you just think of that line or have you been saving it?"

"It might have been in the back of my mind for a while. Now since I'm so amazing, how about a kiss?"

She laughs, which is a little sniffle-y and awkward because she was so close to crying. But at least she's laughing.

She curls into his body more comfortably now, nuzzling his neck and sliding her hands over his back. "What about it?" she says sweetly.

He raises his eyebrows. She's normally a little too no-nonsense for talk like this.

He leans his head down and whispers, his voice husky; "Well, if you wouldn't mind terribly, I'd like one."

"Just one?" she's smirking now.

"Unless you have more to spare."

She shakes her head, feeling silly. "Okay, you know I hate this."

He cracks up. "You were doing fine."

She rolls her eyes. "You can be the seductive one. I'm too tired right now."

He secures his arms around her waist. "Come on, I was enjoying it."

She's never good with words, and though she is very easy to read, she isn't the best at articulating out loud what she wants. Peeta has recently been pushing for that because, well, he just wants to see that side of her.

"You seduce me; I'm no good at this stuff."

"I thought you were doing great. Really sexy."

She sticks her tongue out at him.

His voice lowers dangerously. "Katniss, I'd like a kiss. In fact, I'd like a lot more than that. Please, sweetheart?"

She smirks, running her fingers along the side of his face. She smoothes his hair back, very slowly, as if preparing him for something. She lowers her lips to his brow, and with a gentle, dry smack she delivers one kiss. She moves down to his cheek, and places another. She takes her time to get to his lips, an innocent, quick peck. His eyes are glinting with good humor.

"I don't have all night." He mutters.

"I beg to differ." She murmurs back, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him into a slow, lazy kiss. She rolls on top of him as he's already working on her clothes; she follows in working off his pants and shirt.

Once he finishes with that task, his lips can't quite leave her body, face, lips, neck and chest. Katniss still can't get over the tenderness that have, wet and tickling against her skin. She whimpers, wants more, and in a rare moment of boldness lifts herself to let her breasts hang over his face. He immediately accepts her request and latches unto a perked bud, suckling. She moans while his hands squeezes and toys with the other breast.

"Why do I think, after the conversation we just had, this is really inappropriate?" she gasps.

He laughs from his current place under her breasts. She blushes and lifts her torso to see his face, and he suddenly grabs her, dragging her body back to straddle his hips, chest brushing his. She whimpers again, feeling tender and raw. He smiles so shamelessly, so darkly, that she shudders.

"We were talking about us; I don't see what's so wrong with this."

He lifts his hips into hers, and she feels it against her and wants to cry out.

If she hadn't had her eyes locked on his, she would have laughed. But he was so deathly serious that her own eyes glint as her teeth tug she bottom lip shyly.

"There's nothing wrong with this." She murmurs, her hand finding the side of his face, caressing and holding gently.

His fingers find her, already wet and waiting eagerly, so much that her hips go wild the moment he moves a finger in.

"Easy…" he soothed. "I thought we had all night."

She groans, head falling to his shoulder, still bucking, grinding, trying to ride his unmoving finger if he was going to be that way. She nearly cries when he pulls it out, then pushed it back in, curling inside her to stroke that delicious spot.

"Peeta." She sighs, legs going wider, rubbing herself against his body. "I want you."

He smiles at her. "I want you too, Katniss."

Her hand finds him, hard and throbbing, and she shifts herself, guiding him inside her. he pushes his hips up to fill her all the way, and she moans loudly, grinding her body on his to just enjoy the sensation of him filling her for a moment before things heated intensely. She stares at him hungrily, and he smiles tiredly, ready to be fucked.

"You're real." He muses. His thumbs trace circles on her hips. "Sometimes you seem to be the only thing left that's real."

Her eyes tear up at this, and she's panting, wanting to find her release, and his, hopefully more than once tonight, but what he said made her heart swell and she was struck dumb at the moment. He laughs; hands on her hips gripping tighter and sliding her back and forth a bit, the sensation making her legs shake already.

"What are you waiting for, sweetheart?" he murmurs, and she awakens.

She bends to re-claim his lips, bouncing on his cock. Her tongue explores his mouth, and she rides him in a fit of passion, love for him bubbling in her veins. His hands move from her hips to her back, face, breasts, everywhere, and her movements grow frantic until they find her clit and rub, and that's all she needs. She's mewling against his mouth as he thrusts up into her, continuing all this through her bliss, shortly followed by his own.

"Any chance you forgot your pregnancy shot this month?" he gasps out, as she collapses by his side, slick with sweat and panting. She laughs tiredly, just a whoosh of air as she collects herself.

"No such luck, sweetheart." She murmurs, a little mournful.

"Damn." He says casually, not too concerned, and pulls her close. Despite the heat she snuggles into him, nose brushing his jaw line.

"I love you." she adds as condolence.

"You're lucky you're cute." He grumbles in mock-irritation, but she grimaces, hating the endearment. "Cute" was something Haymitch had often reminded her she was not; she secretly took pride in it. There was something patronizing about being called cute. Only Peeta could get away with it, with only mild protests on her part. He was also the only one to see it, and it was rare, and fleeting, when she'd giggle or twirl, which she nearly never did.

"You know I hate when you call me that." She grumbles back.

"Why do you think I said it then?" he kisses her head. "Get some sleep, cutie."

"Bastard." She mutters, kissing his cheek.

"I love you too. Night."

Holding each other, they find solace in dreamless sleep, not waking until rosy dawn.

There is so much trauma involved in their combined history that memories stung, like running fingers along a scar not yet healed. The dull ache in her chest rarely left. She wanted to be happy with the boy with the bread. Her optimistic, wonderful, sweet boy with the bread. And every night that she could, which was every night when she wasn't going to pass out from exhaustion, she took solace in his arms. During that time, she felt so thoroughly loved she forgot what she was missing. With him at arms length, she was able to let go of the missing pieces, stop rooting around her mind for them like a lost sock, and focus on what was in front of her.

Their world was small and contained, no outside world tearing them apart. They couldn't live like that any more, their moments taken and perverted in the public eye. It was just them. It was beautiful, the two of them, without anyone else's hands prepping and preparing or just trying to hurt them and what they had. They just had each other, and for her, for now, that was enough.

But a compromise took root that night, and it only needed time to grow.