It had been an off-the cuff comment, she knew it was. But she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. Not when she'd been watching the fountain dance and shimmer to All that Jazz, not when she'd won $20 on a Sex and the City slot machine, not even when Peeta had doubled down and won $200, winking at her lazily from across the table.

He'd said it, and now it was stuck, embedded in her brain, needling at her with every passing moment.

There was no hope of her sleeping right now.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet sinking into the plush carpet. They hadn't been able to afford this suite, not originally, but when Peeta had won, he'd immediately marched them to the check-in counter and asked for a bigger room. Katniss hadn't expected something so big and luxurious - or a room with gold-edged mirrors and a spa big enough for ten - but if Peeta wanted to atone for his first dismal foray into gambling and make their weekend in Vegas memorable, she wasn't going to take that away from him.

They'd already been there for three days, had done the obligatory trip out to the Grand Canyon, had seen one of the thirty million Cirque de Soleil shows playing in practically every hotel, and had argued like cats and dogs when Peeta had decided he was a future Poker All-Stars contestant and had lost most of what he'd managed to rake in. It had been amusing at first, watching sweet, unassuming Peeta get caught up in the thrill of it all, the lure of sin city, the sly fingers of greed that clung to him when he'd won a few hands and the chips were up.

Then he'd relied on a pair of Jacks and a pair of fours and had blown everything he'd won. Katniss had been less than impressed and had dragged him out of Caesar's and back out towards Paris, where the next night he'd at least redeemed himself, and put $200 back in his pocket.

But not before he'd dropped the bomb.

She made her way into the bathroom and closed the lid on the toilet, slumping onto it and holding her head in her hands. His comment hadn't made her sick, hadn't made her instantly freak out like she'd done every other time. No, for the first time the comment had stuck with her because it felt right. It didn't worry her, didn't make her heart drop to her knees, or her stomach feel like it was going to purge itself of everything it contained. No, this time she'd felt so relieved, so assured, she'd almost had to second guess herself.

After 5 minutes of ridiculous, unhelpful deep breathing, she sighed and stood, turning on the tap and splashing cold water on her face. She needed it, needed the extra dutch courage to tell him.

She tip-toed across the room, although she didn't need to - she was as stealthy as those silly spies Peeta liked to watch in movies, while he slept like the dead. Slipping back into bed and letting the silk sheets pool around her, she poked him in the shoulder.

No response.

She poked him in the chest.

No response but for a faint twitching of his nose.

With a sigh, she dug her finger in under his ribs, and twisted.

"Holy shit!" He sat up bolt-right, clutching at his side, and she knew he was glaring at her. "What the hell are you doing, Katniss? It's 4 fucking am. I don't need a damned wakeup call yet." He muttered as he glanced at the illuminated clock on the bedside table.

"Yes," she said bluntly, and without preamble.

"Yes what?" He echoed grumpily, laying back down and dragging the sheet over his head.

"You said this afternoon, when we were walking down the strip, that maybe I'd finally marry you if we just did it in Vegas. So….yes." She held her breath, twisting the edge of the oversized pale yellow shirt she wore between her fingers. She watched as he slowly uncovered his face, as an arm reached out to turn on the lamp. The soft glow bathed the room in a low light, and suddenly Katniss felt exposed without the cloak of darkness. Peeta sat up and leant against the headboard, his chest smooth and bare and lightly tanned above the blinding white sheets.

"Katniss," he said slowly and carefully, rubbing his eyes, "I was joking. You've always made it clear you weren't fussed on getting married and I respect that. I just want to be with you."

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

"We both know you've been saying since you were like 6 years old that you want to get married."

"That's just my dad talking shit." He rolled his eyes.

She leant forward and thumped him on the arm. "No it isn't. I've known you since we were 16, Peeta, and we've been together since we were 20. I know you. You want to get married. And...and...so do I."

His brows furrowed in confusion, Peeta leant forward, raising his hands and cupping her cheeks with them. His eyes searched hers, looking patiently, trying to see what he needed to see. "You're serious," he said softly after a moment. "What's changed?"

She shrugged, trying to avert her gaze, but she found she couldn't. Not when he was looking at her with so much hope.

"I..." she trailed off, thinking about it. "Nothing's changed. But I've always hated the idea of standing up in front of a bunch of people and exchanging soppy words. I hate the idea of having a father daughter dance with Haymitch after one too many whiskeys, or having your brother say a speech that would probably make me want to hide under the table anyway. It was always the pomp and circumstance, the show that made me wary. Plus...I dunno. I was always worried that I'd end up like Mom if you ever died and I suddenly realised I'm in too deep with you anyway. If you did..." her voice hitched, and Peeta let go of her cheeks, wrapping his hands around her arms and pulling her into his lap.

"I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon. I'm yours, Katniss, and I'll be yours and you'll be mine for as long as we want each other, regardless of whether we get married or not," he told her, gently running a hand down the sleep-loosened strands of her braid.

She sniffled, annoyed at herself for getting upset. "I know. And that's what's been stuck in my mind all day. You're it for me, and I don't want to risk it by not being your wife, by not having you be my husband, just because I don't want to wear a meringue and kiss every time someone clinks their damn glass."

Peeta laughed, a warm chuckle that rumbled up his chest and vibrated against her arm where she rested against him. "I wouldn't want you to wear a meringue either," he grinned. He turned her to face him again, his smile softening. "If this is something you really want to do-"

"It is."

"Then I want to as well. I love you, Katniss and I'd marry you in a heartbeat, any time, any place."

Katniss smiled, and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could. "I love you too."

Within 48 hours he had a suit, she had a simple white dress that flared lightly at the waist, and both had matching gold bands adorning their ring fingers. Katniss had declined Peeta's protests for an engagement ring, instead slipping the simple pearl ring he'd given her on her 21st birthday beside her wedding band.

After, they laughed as they looked at their photos with the Elvis impersonator - something Katniss had disagreed with vehemently, but had then found increasingly hilarious as the time drew closer - and threw caution into the wind by emailing one to their friends and family. Half would be pissed off, the other half would think it fitting.

She didn't really care what they thought. All that mattered had been the smile on Peeta's face as she'd walked down the aisle, a simple bouquet of daisies in her hands and row after row of empty pew. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way and Peeta had felt the same.

He'd shown her just how happy he was about it from sundown to sun up.

She lay in bed, her head resting on his chest as he slept – finally - her gaze drawn unbidden to her ring. It felt right, like it was supposed to have been there all along. As though it was inevitable, that it, and everything that would come after, would have happened anyway.

Knowing it was time, and that she'd already kept it from him for 4 days longer than she should have, she sat up, cracked her knuckles and prepared to wake her new husband with something even better than what she'd woken him with earlier that night.

As she rested one hand on her still-flat belly and poked him in the arm, she wondered how he would take this announcement. And grinned.