Chapter Five

Week One: Day Four

It's astonishing how quickly a person can change within the space of a few hours. Cato could remember waking up this morning and scaring Peeta and the attitude that met him because of it. He could also recall the scared boy in the doctor's office. And the talkative, complaining man in the shop. But none of those personas matched the Peeta he was with now. Who was shivering underneath a cardigan, face pale and body weak. The side affects from the pregnancy were beginning to take their toll and Cato began to worry that if this was what it was like only thirty three days in then what was it going to be like later on? When there's only a month left?

In Cato's apartment, he stared at the sofa and instantly decided that he wasn't making Peeta sleep there. It was cruel, especially since he had a bed upstairs. Besides, the sofa wasn't that uncomfortable, he could spend a few nights there until Peeta found alternate accommodation.

"Are you sure about this? I could just sleep on the sofa," Peeta insisted. He didn't protest this time around over being helped up the stairs, probably because of his obvious fatigue.

"No, it makes more sense to sleep here. I'm not going to be the asshole who doesn't let the pregnant one sleep in the bed," said Cato. It made sense, since the sofa wasn't all that uncomfortable but would probably feel like a board of nails to Peeta. He awkwardly pulled the covers back and gave his pillow a punch. "Um, there you go. Do you need anything before I go back to work?"

"No, I should be okay," Peeta replied. He seemed to have improved during the walk back to the house. There was certainly more colour in his cheeks, despite the fact that sweat still dripped from the ends of his hair. "I really appreciate this. I'll start looking for apartments tomorrow."

"Take your time," said Cato with a smile. And he really meant it. It was alarming how the knowledge that an individual was carrying his baby made him so willing to have them around. As time wore on, he was becoming less and less happy with the idea of Peeta leaving at all. Until the baby was born anyway. But Cato would never admit this, especially not to Peeta himself. It wasn't about Peeta anyway, it was about the baby. The baby was the only thing Cato cared about and, in relation to the baby, this meant that he had to force himself to care about Peeta as well.

It didn't take Cato long to realize that one of the side effects to being pregnant was being a complete bitch. A couple of days after Cato let Peeta sleep in his bed, Peeta's moods went into complete flux and were up and down like a rollercoaster. Cato decided it was best just to leave him to his own devices, lest he have his head completely torn off by the human equivalent of a pregnant barracuda. However, that night, something odd happened.

Cato had woken up on the couch, as he had for the past two days. His back screamed at him, as if demanding to know why it wasn't lying on the artificial softness of his Capitol imported mattress. The light was on in the kitchen, spilling out from the half open doorway and staining the floor. Confused and tired, Cato hauled himself to his feet and investigated. What he found inside wasn't a burglar, which had been his initial thought, but something much, much more confusing.

"What are you eating?"

Peeta didn't seem at all bothered by being caught. He was sitting at the table, cross legged, eating something that looked like a cracker with cream cheese and jam on top of it. Cato almost retched at the sight of it but Peeta seemed to be enjoying the snack pretty well, judging by the way he was shoveling all of them in. "Look, I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I'll pay for anything I use up with what's left of my club money," Peeta explained. "I just woke up with this blinding craving."

"For cream cheese and jam?" Cato asked slowly.

"I want something sweet and savoury at the same time and the crackers weren't cutting it," said Peeta. He licked his fingers and slid a small spoonful of jam into his mouth. Cato rolled his eyes and went to the sink to get a glass of water.

"Just clean up after yourself, okay?"

"No problem," replied Peeta. "I'm probably going to be here for a while anyway."

"How hungry are you exactly? We ate earlier. A pretty big meal, as I recall," said Cato. He absent mindedly slid into the seat across from Peeta, putting the glass full of water down on what seemed to be the only spare piece of table space.

Peeta scowled and pointed the spoon at him accusingly. "Hey, don't judge," he said. "Don't act like you haven't had cravings."

Cato pretended to look back on it. "Nope. Not at all."

"Lies," Peeta accused. He stuck the spoon back into his mouth and haphazardly spread some cream cheese onto a cracker. Through the piece of metal stuck between his lips, he kept talking, "I get them all the time, especially when I'm menstruating so this really isn't anything new for me. Except I actually have food now. My mother used to lock the cupboards because she didn't want me to get fat."

Peeta's mother sounded like a bundle of laughs. Cato nipped a cracker out of the packet and took a thoughtful bite out of it. "I don't understand the whole menstruation thing. Girls and cut up men act like it's so horribly painful when it's probably not even that bad . . . Why are you looking at me like that?"

Peeta was staring at him through narrowed eyes. "Don't even go there or I will kick your ass, pregnant or not."

"It can't be that bad!" exclaimed Cato.

"Don't make me come over there," Peeta threatened. "I'll have to get up and you really don't want to see me haul my pregnant ass out of this seat while my ankles are asleep."

"Now you're just being stubborn."

"Stubborn? I'll kick you in the balls, see how much you like that," said Peeta.

"It's hardly the same as that." Peeta threw his spoon at Cato. The aim was perfect and the piece of metal whacked his forehead. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"It's not that bad," Peeta said, pulling a face and pretending to mimic Cato.

Cato rolled his eyes. "I get the point," he said.

Peeta grinned triumphantly and leaned back in his seat. The chair creaked under his weight and he winced. "God, I'm such a whale," he muttered. "I can't believe I'm not even two months along and I'm already making furniture groan." He let out a long, frustrated moan and threw his head back. "I want this over already! Surely since this is still an uncertain process I'll give birth earlier than nine months. Maybe for guys it's only three months or something! Then everything would be just fine."

Cato quirked an interested eyebrow. "Surely you were given a pamphlet or something when you went in to get the surgery?" he asked. "Explaining everything or something, you know, about the maternity time and stuff. They didn't just give you a womb and ovaries and send you out into the world like a wide eyed deer."

"I vaguely remember a video on periods," said Peeta, scratching the back of his head with a frown. "You know, what to do when the blood starts coming out of your ass and how to apply a pad or whatever. But on pregnancy? Nothing. A bit ironic, don't you think? Since it was a surgery to increase the dwindling population and all."

Peeta grinned, the gesture a complete oxymoron to the way he had just been complaining. Cato tried not to stare for too long at once. There was something about Peeta that made him want to stare at him forever. He was like a siren, something that demanded constant attention. In a good way, of course. "I suppose we could ask Dr. Aurelius the next time you're due for a checkup," said Cato.

"I suppose." At the mention of the checkup, Peeta's mood dropped like a hot potato. The boy's body sagged a little and his expression melted. His bottom lip stuck out petulantly and he crossed his arms on top of his mini bump.

"Are you afraid of the doctor's, or something?" asked Cato. "Clove mentioned a phobia or something. It's a real thing or whatever."

Peeta shook his head with a frown. "I'm not scared of doctors," he said. "I've just had bad experiences with them in the past."

"Like broken arm bad or super serious bad?" Cato asked.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Right. Okay.

A silence fell between them and Cato struggled for something to say. He hadn't meant to seem like he was trying to pry into Peeta's personal life but the curiosity had gotten the better of him and now he wished he had never asked anything. A thought popped into his head and he voiced it before he really thought about it. "Have you thought of any names?"

Peeta looked surprised at the question. "No. Why? Have you?"

"I used to think about it when I was younger and thought that best friends were supposed to have kids together. Clove and I came up with quite a few," said Cato.

"Like?"

"Uh, Xavier, for a boy, for example."

Peeta snorted. "You mean like Charles Xavier?" He creased up laughing. "Fuck, Cato, the kid isn't Patrick Stewart! Nor is he psychic nor will he be bald." Peeta touched his head with a frown. "At least I hope not."

Cato rolled his eyes. "Then what sort of magical names have you in your memory banks?"

Peeta grinned brightly. "No clue."

"Well, Xavier's better than calling the baby John Doe," said Cato.

"Isn't that for dead people? They put that name on dead people's toes, right?" Peeta chuckled. "John Doe, on the toe."

Cato chuckled as well, even though the joke was kind of cheesy. "I'm sure our baby will be thrilled with how prepared and totally mature their parents are," he said sarcastically.

Peeta kicked his feet up on the table, knocking over a few packets of various food products. "Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear, Mr Hadley?" he asked, cupping his hand around his ear. "Because I think it is." Again, Cato found himself chuckling. He didn't do that too often, it was odd. He didn't know whether he liked it or not. "You've never said it like that before."

"Said what like what before?" asked Cato.

Peeta's face had grown serious. He picked nervously at his fingernails and wouldn't meet Cato's eyes, all of a sudden. "You've never said 'our' baby. You've just always said 'my' baby. As in you. Cato. Not me. It's the first time you've openly said out loud that the baby's mine as well."

Cato hadn't thought of it that way before. He had always been referring to the baby as his own but he had always been aware that it was Peeta's child as well. He hadn't realized that he hadn't said it out loud, to Peeta, before. "Of course it's our baby," he said with a frown. "Who else's would it be?"

Peeta shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought maybe you didn't want to acknowledge that you actually had sex with . . . well . . ." He gestured at himself, "this. And that I was the one who was pregnant."

"Peeta, that's ridiculous," Cato said. "Okay, so it was a bit hard to swallow when I found out you were pregnant and maybe it would have been better if we hadn't had sex but it doesn't mean I don't want to acknowledge that we actually did it. You're talking of yourself as if you're a greasy hobo or something. I was attracted to you that night-the beer goggles didn't help-and I had sex with you. There. I've acknowledged it."

"Right," said Peeta. "And I had sex with you too. I suppose that helps a little. Although, I still feel a little cheap over the whole thing."

"You feel cheap? You're the one who left!" exclaimed Cato. "How could you have known that I mightn't have wanted to start something with you? You just vanished!"

Peeta cocked his head, eyebrows knitting together. "Did you want something with me?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know," Cato said, drawing back a little. Alarm bells were ringing in his head, screaming: "Go back! Go back! Quick!" "It's a bit late now."

Blue eyes wide in wonder, Peeta smiled. It was a devious smile. Lop-sided and easily sexy. "It's never too late," he said. Before the alarm bells stopped ringing in Cato's head, Peeta swung his legs back down and hauled himself out of his seat. Cato winced as he heard the boy's ankles crack when his weight was fully displaced. He watched the younger boy as he made his way to the door, already walking with a slight waddle because of his weight.

This man really was something special. Too bad nothing could happen between them. It would be too complicated. Like one of those algebra sums with all the letters and only one way to solve it.

Cato had never been good at math but he knew that him plus Peeta would never be a valid solution.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviews! Your continued support is amazing and I couldn't be happier with all your helpful feedback! :)