Hey! This blog is such a brilliant idea!! It's my birthday on June 6th and would love a drabble.. Possibly katniss and peeta getting a puppy, how adorable would that be?!
Happy Happy birthday! A birthday fic was written just for you by the lovely and talented @alliswell21. Enjoy!
A Puppy Would be Nice
By @alliswell21
Rated: G
Prompt: Everlark getting a puppy, For the birthday gifts drabbles.
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Peeta never asks for anything, he never wants for anything- Or so he insists- but it is a wife’s job to read between the lines, heaven knows that’s what he does for me on a regular basis. I just wanted to give him something nice in return for all the wonderful things he does for me, so the moment I saw an opportunity to give him what he secretly wanted, I jumped at it, and didn’t let go until I saw it through!
Everything started with a stupid magazine quiz he picked up at the dentist’s office; it was silly, really; something lighthearted to pass the time while we waited for our back-to-back appointments:
“What kind of Dog are You?” He read out loud amusedly.
“Oh, that’s easy! Bloodhound for sure!” I say leafing through a copy of National Geographic dated almost a year prior.
“I don’t know… You’re usually more scary than bloodhounds. How about a mutt? The scary kind, with fangs and claws that could rip you apart?” He snickers when I smack him with my rolled up NatGeo.
Peeta simply laughs harder, cowering into his stiff chair while I glare at him, flashing him a mighty scowl. After he starts throwing air kisses at me, blinking rapidly with puppy-dog-eyes, I have to hide my face behind my magazine so he can’t see my reluctant smile… I hate not being able to stay mad at him for long.
He had the good sense to pretend he didn’t noticed my loosening mood, instead he proceeded to read the steps and questions of the quiz aloud; in all honesty, I did have a lot of fun answering the silly questions, until it was time to tabulate our results to find out ‘what kind of dog we were’. As it turns out, I ended up being an American Pit Bull - I thought I would’ve rated some kind of hound, something useful during a hunt- Peeta thought the description was dead on for some reason: strong willed, loyal, stubborn, courageous, intelligent, affectionate to it’s masters… Didn’t see the resemblance whatsoever!
He on the other hand was slated as a West Highland White Terrier, a smallish dog, hairy and cute, described as alert, friendly, courageous, hardy, active and independent… It suited him, and he was delighted googling up pictures of the breed on his phone, until the receptionist called up his name, and he was squirreled away to his cleaning.
That night, after supper was cleaned up and we were sitting cozily on our couch - my feet on his lap, while he massaged my toes and soles- he sighed deeply into the comfortably quiet room, “A puppy would be nice,” he said wistfully.
I looked up at him in confusion and surprise, from my stolen National Geographic article about the game reserves in the Serengeti.
Once the novelty of the game we were playing had passed, I hadn’t given it another thought, but Peeta was still clearly hung up on the whole dog thing.
“I don’t know,” I say dubiously, “a puppy is a lot of work.” I say more firmly, returning to my reading material.
“I consider myself old enough to be trusted with the responsibility of raising a puppy,” he says amusedly.
I chance him a glance, to see how serious he is. There’s a flicker of honest-to-God plea in his eyes, but it’s gone almost instantly.
“I really don’t know, Peeta,” I start, feeling like I’m about to crush a little boy’s dream, “You know I’m not a pet person, and having a pet makes things considerably more difficult, we have a lot of freedoms now, that will go down the drain once we bring an animal, totally dependent on us, to live in the house,” this is only partially true, and conceals a much bigger reason behind my hesitancy than a mere dog inconveniencing my freedom to come and go as I please.
Children talk is taboo in our home, but I know how badly he wanted them, but he loves me so much, he’s never, ever ask for them, or press the issue in any way. His devotion to me, has no limits sometimes. Unlike any other man would in his position, he’s never demanded children; in fact he’s always hinted that he’s fine just the two of us. I’m incredibly grateful for his respect towards my complicated baggage… it’s not that I dislike children, on the contrary, I adore children… I’m just scared to death I’d fail them as a parent. I’m scared to love them, and then have them snatched away from me like my father, and my sister, and to some extent, my absent with grief mother as well… Call it the tragedies of life. The topic remains not discussed, and undisturbed.
I continue giving him reasons why a dog wouldn’t work for us, in a frantic state, “We’ll have to get a vet, and dog sitters, and we’ll have to get on a walking schedule, and plan trips to the dog park, and get dog food and accessories… It’s a lot of money when you think of it…”
“Katniss! I was just kidding! Geez, calm down, there Dark Cloud,” he says stretching across the couch to grab my hand playfully, pulling me towards him, until I’m flush against the length of his body. “I don’t really need a dog. I’m happy with our little family as it is, just the two of us!” He says kissing my forehead.
“Okay,” I say trying to not sound too relieved.
I know exactly what he’s telling me. I know he just read my fears like an opened book, and as usual, he gave me an out.
Fact in point is, I’ve done for him- with him- many things I promised myself I would never do, the main, and most telling one, being marriage.
I never wanted to marry, he promised he’d never proposed to me, yet, here I am, laying on top of my husband’s chest, while he lazily plays with my hair ends. Getting married was my idea, I drove us to a little chapel up in the mountains, we eloped right then and there, entirely skipping the engagement step, and plunging into our life together as husband and wife, both feet first and eyes wide open.
The truth is, I’m happy. I never thought I’d be happy, but he’s changed my mind about marriage, and given me reason to trust his love, companionship and loyalty. In reality, I really didn’t stand a chance, trying to resist the pull he has on me - and hell did I resist, with all my might at the beginning - but his constancy, patience and goodness took me by surprise, he sprouted firm roots, right in the middle of my heart, tearing all those protective walls with his kindness and hope.
What’s to say he won’t managed to change my mind about my other big fear?
The problem is, that changing my mind for him, because of his innate goodness, it’s not so far out of the question. Proof of point is, that right this second, I’m holding a dog carrier cage in one hand, while lugging a doggy bed and a very heavy Pet Smart bag in the other.
“Peeta!” I call out loudly, stepping into the door.
“Yeah,” he says from the kitchen, where I knew he’d be. He’s making his way to meet me in the living room, and his expression of surprise and puzzlement is reward enough for me right now.
“What’s all this?” He asks, blue eyes going wide as his gaze flies from my face to each of my hands, to the doggy bed under my arm.
I chuckle nervously. “Um… You remember when you mention how cool having a puppy would be?”
“And… You just went and got one without even telling me?” He asks in mock accusation.
“Well… It’s just… He looked so sad at the animal shelter, like he needed me, and… Look!” I toss the stuff I’m holding all over the floor, and hurry to get the puppy out of the cage to show Peeta exactly what I’m talking about, “How could you say no to this face? How you walk away from these big ol’ eyes?” I say pouting, bringing the tiny dog up to press his face to my cheek.
Peeta looks at the dog with furrowed brows, then he looks at me, his eyes tell me he doesn’t even know where to begin. I’m starting to second guess my impulsiveness, when he finally laughs and takes the dog from my hands.
“Katniss, this pitiful thing… Are you sure he’s a dog, not a rat?”
I slap his arm, “Do not insult Roberto!” I chide him.
“Roberto?” He returns amusedly.
“Well… He’s mexican isn’t he? He needs a Spanish name!” I say crossing my arms over my chest.
“Okay…” He says chuckling lightly, “He does look like a Roberto. Although I’m pretty sure he’s the runt of the litter,” he says pensively, moving the puppy from side to side, studying it. “I see the appeal,” he comments softly, gently scratching the shivery, tiny head of the dog with his index finger.
Roberto whimpers a bit, and with that, I know he’s completely conquered Peeta’s heart!
Peeta beams at me, hugging the dog close to his heart, “He’s perfect! I love him!” He takes a short step into me, and kisses me sweetly, “thank you,” he whispers against my lips.
“You’re welcome, I guess. Just remember, you’re potty training him!”
We both laugh with the dog squirming between our bodies, “You won’t regret it!” He says excitedly, like a child who’s been given… Well, a new puppy!
“Welcome home Roberto,” He tells the dog, nuzzling close to his pointy ear, “Just between you and me, though, don’t let Katniss fool you, she scowls a lot, but she’s a big softy for small things that need be taken care of, on the inside,”
“I heard that!” I say chuckling, as I stoop down to gather the bags filled with dog necessities.
I know I will regret giving into the whole dog adoption. That’s a given. Surprisingly, I’m alright with it, because the more I look at Peeta, and see how adorable my husband is with the teacup size, underweight, scrawny looking chihuahua pup, I can’t help to think that Roberto needs a pint size Peeta to play with. I’m starting to think, “A baby would be nice!”
