October

The print scanner beeps, and prints out the message that Peeta's handprint has been accepted and thanks him for his vote. He lets out the breath he's been holding and exits the little booth to thunderous applause.

"Who'd you vote for, Mr. President?" a reporter calls out to him.

Peeta smiles in the man's direction. "Just some guy on the ballot," he replies with a wink.

Rye's bouncing on his toes near Annie, and beams at his father when Peeta approaches and holds out his hand. Together, the Mellark men turn and wave to the reporters. Peeta squeezes his son's palm; a moment later, Thresh, Thom, and Annie lead them out of Twelve's Justice Building to their car.

Haymitch waits inside, ready to prattle off scheduling items in a shockingly Effie-like manner. Peeta holds up his hand to stop him before he even begins.

"It's election day, Haymitch. Surely all this can wait until I know if it's my problem tomorrow or not, right?"

Haymitch purses his lips. "Beetee has your speeches ready. I'll look them over, if you'd like."

Peeta glances over at Rye, who looks imploringly back. "I'll trust your judgement. I'm taking the day off to be with my family."

Minutes later, they all board the Presidential Hovercraft with one final wave to the District Twelve well-wishers before the door seals behind them.

Peeta nudges Rye's side. "Where's your homework?" he asks.

Rye groans. "Why do you get the day off and I don't?"

"Because I'm the President and you're nine. I believe that means I outrank you."

"I'll be ten next month!"

"One year doesn't make me outrank you any less."

"Fiiine. Can I at least watch take-off first?"

"You may, but then Annie's going to watch you work. Get as much of your math and history done before we get back to the Capitol."

"What are we gonna do after we get back?"

"I've got some ideas. It'll be fun, I promise. Go on, Duck."

He might be older and vastly more mature now, but Rye's smile is still eager and cherubic as he settles into a seat, Annie at his side, and presses his nose to the window. Peeta strides down the narrow corridor towards his office (his for now, he supposes) and secures the door behind him.

He gazes over to the double seat in the corner. She's right where he'd left her: curled up, eyes closed, a blanket covering her from neck to toes as she dozes. He smiles, and not wanting to wake her, strides over and sinks silently into the chair behind his desk. The hovercraft operator announces over the loud speaker they're ready for take-off, and Peeta takes the quiet moment to let some of the stress he's felt non-stop over the last few months unwind from his shoulders. He leans his head back and lets his eyes drift closed. He wakes with a start untold minutes later when he feels the back of Katniss's hand brush along his cheek.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she says contritely. "I didn't realize you'd actually fallen asleep."

"I didn't realize I did, either" he says, and gives his eyes a quick rub. He'd completely missed the craft launching into the air, sweeping over his District, and flying into the clouds. She wobbles a bit on her feet when they hit a patch of turbulence, so he pulls her into his lap and smoothes his palm along her hip.

"So who'd you vote for? Did you write-in Delly like I told you to?" she asks with a grin.

"You're hilarious," he murmurs. "How are you feeling? Better?" He can see she's still a little pale, feel that her skin's a little clammy, but she's not shaky anymore like she was when the craft took off from the Capitol launchpad earlier that morning.

"Mmm… it's been an hour since the last wave, I think? I'm probably in the clear for a bit. I brushed my teeth."

"Oh yeah?" he says. He places his thumb on her chin to tilt her face down and brushes his lips over hers. "Ah. So you did." He kisses her again fervently, and revels in the feel of her petite form pressed against his chest. Moments like this during an election are few and far between, so it feels every moment of the ages it has been.

The craft dips and sways as it continues to gain altitude, and all the while, Katniss insinuates herself against him further. Peeta runs his knuckles along the exposed skin of her arms and her bare legs under the billowy skirt of her candlelight-colored dress as they kiss, completely absorbed in one another. The craft levels out and the ride becomes practically motionless. Only then does she pull away so she's still perched on his knee, and stretches her back and neck. She still looks a little tired, but her gaze drinks him in as though she's never seen him before. He loves it when she looks at him like that, especially when her cheeks are a little flushed and her mouth looks so thoroughly plump.

"Where's Rye?" she asks.

"Doing his homework with Annie. I told him we'd all do something fun when we get home, if you're feeling up to it."

"I'm feeling up to doing something fun now," she says. Her eyes darken, her lips pull up at the corners in a smirk, and she shifts in a very significant way in his lap.

"What do yo— Oh." He's been so tired and they've both been so distracted that love-making has been rare. But the look on her face is so brazen, so intoxicating—even if he felt he was about to fall asleep standing up, the thought of denying her would never occur to him right now. "You're really feeling up to it?"

"Very, very up to it." She shifts in his lap again, her thigh rubbing sinuously over his tented trousers. "And from the feel of things, so are you. Did you lock the door?"

"Don't I always?"

He's lost in her kiss again the second her mouth tilts down and slants over his.

After a year, the slow novelty of undressing one another, of nudging apart buttons and ties and clasps has mostly waned; still, Peeta grins at her when she slides backwards to start nudging his pants down his hips inch by inch. She stands to let her dress, buttons undone all the way down her navel, pool at her feet, then sweeps everything aside with the side of her foot. The lace bra she wears is far too lovely to remove, but she's absconded with her panties at some juncture.

"Madam First Lady—what would the nation think if they knew you weren't wearing your underwear?"

She winks and drops delicately to her knees. "They'd suppose I've been too ill to make love to my husband in ages and, I'm sure, forgive me."

He purses his mouth when she leans forward, thinking she's coming for his lips, but her mouth attaches instead to his pulse point under his left ear. She charts an agonizingly slow course over his neck, his chest, and his belly before she nudges his knees apart with her hands. He cups her chin in his hands, shaking his head to say there's no need—but her mouth is already diving down around him. His eyes roll back in his head, and he slumps back in the plush, leather chair to watch her work.

"Katniss…" he pants as her mouth becomes a little vacuum and her head bobs. Her hair is loose and tickles his belly as she sets a languid, indulgent pace, and he gathers it up in his hand. Her silver eyes seem to glint up at him, his shaft disappearing deeper and deeper into her mouth every time she plunges her mouth down around him, humming and sucking all the tender while. It seems like only a few precious seconds of this before he feels his hips twitch, his toes begin to curl—if he doesn't get inside her, and soon, he'll completely lose control. He tugs her curls, and she lets him fall from her mouth with a gentle pop before she crawls up his body to sit astride him.

"Minx," he says with a smirk as he sinks his hips lower into the seat and grasps her by hers.

"Surely you didn't think that would change simply because—ah!" she keens as he trails his fingers softly between her thighs and parts her delicate folds. He grins up at her, wildly pleased she's already so wet for him, and finds her clit with his thumb.

"No, certainly not," he says in answer to her unfinished question, and watches intently as her face begins to contort in pleasure. He feels his fingers coat with her arousal, rivulets of lust coursing from her as she begins to squirm and murmur his name.

"Shhh," he says impishly, "we don't want to be interrupted."

She tosses her head from side to side as he leans forward and captures a turgid nipple through its lace coverlet, and he feels her fingers slide into his hair. The nub against his thumb begins to pound, and her hips grind down insistently against his hand. She tugs his hair sharply, and just as their mouths collide, a luscious scream bubbles up from her throat and gets lost against his tongue.

She quivers against him for only a moment or two, panting a shallow recovery in between desperate kisses. He reaches between them, holding himself at the base while she sinks, sinks—then he's sheathed inside her and they moan together in ecstasy. Her thighs clench as she begins to ride him, her hips snap up and down eagerly as she braces her palms against his stomach. Her eyes fall hooded and jaw goes slack, and Peeta thinks that he could watch her like this forever if she'd allow it, until he feels her walls flutter around him in that way that makes him forget everything. He draws a deep breath, releases it with a blissful moan, and draws her face down to kiss her breathless. She wraps her arms around his neck and clings to him as he juts his hips up, thrusting ever deeper inside her. He guides her with his hands, coaxing her up and dropping her down until she shudders against him in another tidal wave of muted, guttural cries.

She slumps bonelessly against him when he gets to his feet, picking her up and propping her against the smooth wood of the desk in front of them. He lays her back delicately, his fingertips ghosting along her rib cage to release her breasts from the lacy cups before he tweaks her nipples. He draws one of her legs up and kisses the inside of her ankle before plunging back inside her and losing himself there, his eyes falling closed in his growing delirium. He listens to her mewling his name, her struggle for breath as he snaps his hips. He wrenches his eyes open to see her gaze drinking him in, and that's all it takes to completely undo him—her quicksilver eyes and the swollen, well-kissed bow of her mouth murmuring, "Peeta."

He falls forward onto his forearms and presses his brow between her breasts to catch his breath. Her fingers rake through his hair and her chest rumbles softly as she hums something sweet and soothing. He begins to draw himself up, intent to take her and her lips with him—then he pauses as he glances down at the nearly undetectable swell of her stomach. His fingers trail down her sides again, and when he presses his palm to the tiny bump, she covers it with her own.

"You're alright?" he says, still a little bit in disbelief over what they managed to make despite the exhausting hours of the campaign.

"Never better. Especially after that. Should I expect you'll be fussing over me a bit less now this first stage is nearly through?"

"I'm going to fuss over you every second I can, love," he says with a smile. "And just wait until we tell Rye and get him going."

"This one really ought to be a girl, then," she says with a laugh. "I'm not sure I can handle another clucking Mellark man in my life."

The hovercraft gives an almost imperceptible shudder around them as an announcement trills over the PA that they'll be arriving in District Five shortly. Peeta helps Katniss draw up to sitting and kisses her firmly one more time before they begin to gather their clothes. Katniss ducks into the lavatory to touch up her makeup, and once Peeta's redressed, he falls heavily onto the double seat she'd been asleep on when he entered and waits for her there. She steps out fluffing her hair with her fingers and grins at him.

"You know, I think you just convinced me of something," she says.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

She takes the seat next to him and kisses him softly as she fastens in for landing. "To vote for you, of course."

"I only now convinced you?" he asks, incredulous.

"Mhmm. You can thank those talented fingers of yours for being the final factor."

He kisses her giggles away as the craft touches down, then wipes away some stray lipstick with the pad of his thumb. She's still pale under the dusting of bronzer on her cheeks, but there's a glow to her, a softness that makes his heart swell.

"Vote for me or not," he says, opening the office door so they can step out together, "the rest of the day belongs to us."

As she joins her guard to make her way to the Justice Building, he wonders to himself if this is the last day for another five long years that will be only theirs, or if it's only the first of many once he's been voted-out.

He'd be lying to himself if he weren't equally scared of both possibilities.

He decides, either way, to make the day count.

After Katniss's vote in Five is recorded, the hovercraft speeds them to the Capitol. Peeta sends a message through Haymitch to Effie, Finnick, and Beetee that he and his family aren't to be interrupted until polling ceases in all Districts. He changes out of his pressed suit, loads Rye's arms down with blankets and pillows, and slips his arm in with Katniss's to make their way into the mansion gardens.

The idea for their oasis had been Katniss and Rye's together: when Rye had first met Katniss's mother before the wedding last year, the woman had brought a book, an Everdeen family memento, to give her daughter as a wedding present. Katniss had poured over it lovingly, explaining to Peeta and Rye it had belonged to her late-father. In it contained rough sketches of plants and flowers alongside handwritten notations about what each specimen could be used for medicinally. It'd been expanded to include other flora ideal for eating, as well as plants known to be toxic and dangerous. When Katniss had handed it to Rye to look over, the boy's eyes had actually lit up. After that, he'd declared himself an amateur herbalist, prompting the mansion landscapers to have a stern talking-to with Katniss about Rye's new proclivity to dig about in their well-manicured gardens. He needed a place of his own to experiment, and thus, a climate-controlled greenhouse was built just for the First Family. The glass is bullet proof, of course, and guards patrol the perimeter, just as they do the doors of the residence; but with just enough light and fresh air blowing in through the slats, it's just enough like being outside to keep Peeta's beloved, restless duo from getting too stir-crazy cooped up inside the residence.

Reclining back on a blanket, Peeta watches Katniss's lithe fingers trim back her primrose bushes as Rye tromps excitedly after her. His eyelids are heavy, and it's hard not to fall asleep where he leans. But he doesn't want to miss a minute with them today.

"Did you know if we pressed out the oils from the leaves and the buds from that bush, we could make up a skin oil? It's supposed to be really good for burns and itching," Rye says sagely to Katniss.

"Oh yeah? Did that come out of the plant book, too?"

"Yup! Except I had to look in another book to make sure this is the same flower 'cause the picture—not that your dad's pictures aren't good, Mom—but it didn't really look the same."

Katniss plucks one of the few remaining buds on the plant—not even the humid greenhouse can entirely shake away the chill the plant must feel from the season—and rolls the tiny thing between her fingers. "Okay… So let's draw a new picture of it."

"R-Really? I didn't think you'd want me to mess up any of the pages…"

"It wouldn't be messing anything up. It's our book now, Rye," Katniss says, though Peeta can tell from her tone and the far-off look on her face that she's a little wistful. She shakes it away as quickly as it appeared, and presses the flower into Rye's hand. "We should make it exactly what we want it to be."

"I don't think I can draw good enough to make it look right, Mom…"

"Maybe not yet. But your teachers always tell you you're getting better with practice."

Peeta lets his heart feel the full rush of pride before calling out to them. "You know, I'm not too shabby at that drawing thing myself."

Rye's face brightens. "Do you wanna help us, Dad?"

"Grab me some pencils, Duck," Peeta says. "I'd love to help."

As his son settles next to him, the well-worn leather book in his lap and a few pencils in his hand, Peeta looks up to see his wife gazing adoringly at them for just a moment before she switches on the water-drip system and comes over to join them. It takes Peeta a second to remember not to grip a drawing pencil as tightly as he does the ballpoint pens he wields at work. He's rusty—there isn't a lot of time for drawing these days—but with Katniss and Rye's help and a few practice scraps, his sketches make their way into the plant book.

A guard brings them lunch sent over from Ms. Sae a while later, and surreptitiously attempts to hand Peeta a note he knows must be from Haymitch. He checks his watch and surmises it must be getting on towards end of polling in the eastern most Districts; he can only assume the note must be early exit data. He slips it back to the guard with a terse shake of his head. The three munch on apples and pears with rich cheeses and hearty, grain-filled bread before Rye announces he has to check on a new batch of seedlings he's got growing at the back of the house. He's still in sight, so instead of claiming Katniss's mouth in a way that would make his son grouse about his parents being "super gross together", Peeta pulls Katniss against his chest and combs his fingers through her hair. Eventually, he finds himself making knots, and rakes through to smooth them out.

"Nervous?" Katniss asks.

"No. Well. Maybe a little. Except I still don't know entirely what I'm more nervous for."

"Look on the bright side—no one on the ballot favors HAARP. You've still got your trip to the Asiatic before turnover in January, if it comes to that. You aren't done tomorrow even if you're not reelected today, Peeta."

"I know. But…is it terribly selfish of me to want more days like today? Days for just us?"

"Not terribly. We'd like it, too. We'll make time for them best we can, no matter what happens." She loops her fingers around his wrist and presses his palm to her belly. It'll be weeks still until there's even the smallest flutter of detectable movement, but it makes Peeta take a contented, relaxed breath to know there's still something.

"Should we tell him today?" Peeta whispers.

"You said you wanted to wait until—"

"That's only a week away."

"If you want to," she says and smiles brightly. "You know him best."

"I'm not sure that's entirely true, love."

"Rye?" Katniss calls out, not breaking her gaze with Peeta until she gives him a playful wink. "Come back over here a second—we want to talk with you about something."

The sun grows faint on the horizon by the time Haymitch interrupts the family's afternoon.

"All polling has concluded except for Districts One, Two, Three, and of course the Capitol. The numbers are starting to get quite significant, Mr. President."

Peeta sighs. "Guess I can't pretend it's not happening anymore, then."

"It's gonna be alright, Dad, you'll see. I have a good feeling," Rye says with a grin.

"We're all gathered in the East Ballroom, whenever you'd like to join us."

"We'll go to the residence and change and be there soon," Peeta says, and walks Haymitch to the greenhouse door while Katniss and Rye pack up their picnic. In the doorway, Peeta clears his throat, signaling to his mentor to wait.

"I just wanted to—" Peeta lowers his voice significantly. "I just wanted to say, Haymitch, that I know I've put you through a lot this year. These last couple of years, since Katniss came into our lives and Rye…"

"Mr. President, please. There's no need to explain anything."

"Except I don't think I ever apologized to you for some of the things I said a year ago when things were at their darkest…did I?"

Haymitch's lips press together in a thin, tight line. "It wasn't necessary to. And it was a year ago, after all."

"Listen a second, old man, will you? I know I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I mean that in the best possible way. I wouldn't have been able to do everything I have without you pushing me to be better. I've never told you that I'm grateful, and if this is the end of the line, then I wanted you to know it."

Haymitch coughs, and Peeta knows it's simply defense against emotion.

"I asked you to push me, Haymitch—thank you for doing it, even when I pushed back."

"I always believed you'd do extraordinary things, Peeta," Haymitch says quietly. "I'm appreciative you allowed me to stand behind you."

Peeta offers Haymitch his hand. "I wouldn't have had it any other way, my friend."

"Nor I."

Haymitch disappears into the darkening gardens towards the mansion, Johanna at his side, and Peeta turns back to his family. Rye has his arm around Katniss's waist, and looks happily between his father and his mother's stomach a few times before they join hands and leave their little oasis behind.

The numbers are overwhelming. It's no surprise that Peeta loses Thirteen by as wide a margin as he wins Twelve, but losing Eleven is a shock to everyone. It sets the margin for victory back considerably. Peeta nurses a stiff glass of whiskey and clings tightly to Katniss's hand.

It wouldn't be the end of the world to lose. If today proved anything, it's that he's utterly content to be a family man. He wouldn't even mind helping his father out in the bakery some mornings, just to keep active and busy. But Ten and Nine both go to other candidates as well, and Peeta is reminded again how much he does want this job—how much he still wants to do for his country so that it's the sort of place his and Katniss's children can be safe and thrive.

Rye whizzes past him, playing tag with Noah Odair, and Peeta's hand creeps protectively over Katniss's stomach.

"There's a lot still in play," Katniss reminds him.

"If I lose Eight, it's all over—I can't come back from that."

"You aren't going to lose Eight. Brinna did too much polling there on your behalf for that to happen."

The numbers for Seven come in sooner, and the room's cumulative breath releases—Peeta's won there, at least. From across the room at Haymitch's side, Johanna Mason gives him a wink and a nod. Peeta returns it gratefully. But just as soon as it does, the news agent stationed outside of Eight's Justice Building appears on screen, and the entire room falls silent...then a rush of cheers erupts when Peeta's pictures appears on-screen with a banner pronouncing him winner of the District.

Finnick is the one to step up on a stool and quiet the throng down, to soberly remind them all that there are still six Districts and the Capitol in play. None are a foregone conclusion. And ever the superstitious one, Finnick warns gravely what will happen if he personally sees anyone popping any celebratory champagne one second before Peeta is announced reelected.

Peeta clings tighter to his wife, knowing full-well that it's going to be a long night.

There's a crowd of Mellark for Panem supporters assembled outside the mansion. They've been there all night, one that was blessed with mild weather for as long as it dragged on for the gathered throng. Two Districts were called back to verify counts, and though he'd sent both Katniss and Rye to bed while the tallies ran later and later into the early hours of the morning, Peeta's barely been able to close his own eyes, even to blink.

He sits forward over his crossed legs in his wingback chair in the Aula, Haymitch to his left, Finnick and Beetee to his right. He'd asked Effie to go to the residence and get his family, but he wanted a moment with his men before facing the crowd and giving the speech Beetee had handed him when the final totals came in.

"I just wanted to tell the three of you thank you. Again. I'll never be able to say thank you enough."

Finnick nods. Beetee smiles and says, "It's been our pleasure, Mr. President."

"It continues to be our pleasure," Haymitch says.

Peeta glances over Beetee's words once more and then gets to his feet, his men following suit. "Well… Guess it's time."

"Yes sir, Mr. President." His men follow him out the Aula door.

He meets a sleepy-eyed Katniss and bushy-tailed Rye near the balcony double doors. They've both changed out of whatever they slept in, and their freshly pressed clothes look dandy in comparison to what Peeta's own rumpled suit. Without having to ask, Katniss steps forward and straightens his tie. He catches her around the waist, not caring what complaints their son might have, and kisses her full on the mouth.

"Come with me out there, will you?"

"For the audience?" Katniss asks, her eyebrow raised.

"No. For me."

"Of course I will."

She laces her fingers through his and gives them a reassuring squeeze. Before they can signal to the guards at the doors to open them, Rye tugs on Peeta's sleeve to get him to stop.

"Dad, you almost forgot something," Rye says, and Peeta catches a golden trinket glint in his son's hands. Ages as it's been since he's worn the pin, it feels right to wear it today. He stoops down, and Rye pins it to his lapel.

"Thanks, Duck."

"To protect you," Rye says, just as sweetly as ever.

"For good luck," Peeta returns, and offers his hand to his son.

Finnick lets himself past the family onto the balcony, and the crowd erupts into a deafening roar.

And then, without another word, the family steps forward together to face their future.

The End

A/N: This epilogue was dedicated with all my love and affection for my two wonder betas, sohypothetically and Court81981 - thank you, ladies, for being with this story from the beginning, and helping me make it the story that it became. It didn't seem fair to ask you to beta a chapter that was meant to be a gift to you, so apologies to you and everyone reading for any mistakes or flubs your eyes didn't catch for me first. Thank you again, a hundred times over.

A myriad of wonderful friends and pre-readers helped me along the way, along with a small army of Tumblr users who helped me with my early "Panem Politics" research; to you all I say that my gratitude knows no bounds.

A special thank you to meggie-mellark, for giving this story its title, and Ro Nordmann for making me not one, but two beautiful banners.

I have loved writing stories for this fandom for the last several years, and this one never failed to surprise and thrill me with how well it was received. It is for this, amongst other reasons, that I'm calling this the fic to hang my Everlark hat on. Thank you, wonderful readers in this beyond amazing fandom, for all your support, your favorites, your follows, your reviews. It has been a thrill getting to know you all.

I'll never truly let this fandom go - I'll be at authoresskika dot tumblr dot com for the foreseeable future, fangirling about THG and any other number of things, and at krousewrites dot tumblr dot com as I chart a course towards original fiction. I sincerely hope you'll join me.

I wanted to end this story with a little mystery, and let you all decide for yourselves what the future holds for President!Peeta, Rye, Katniss, and the President's Men. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Thank you all again. And as always, I wish you the happiest of happy reading!

~Kika~