Author's Note: I got soooo many reviews! What a lovely surprise! Thank you so much... keep them coming! I love them, they make my day. This is a pretty uneventful chapter, but I like it cause I find it funny. Maybe it is not, but I like it anyway. Enjoy! Review!

Chapter Six

"Let me get this straight," says Haymitch, picking up the piece of paper in his hands and looking at it with unusual focused eyes. "Me, Greasy Sae and her granddaughter, your mother, Annie Odair and son, Effie Trinket, the prep team… I'm sorry, is the prep team part of the guest list or will they be here to work?"

I raise my eyes from the drafts of the invitations that Peeta drew this morning and look at the list that Haymitch is now holding towards me. "I guess both," I reply. "They would want to do it anyway."

"Oh right," says Haymitch, patting his forehead theatrically. "Who wouldn't want to take active part into the wedding of the girl on fire and the boy with bread." He sighs as if to say that he wouldn't mind be left out after all. I suppose he noticed that there is too much work to do and lost his early enthusiasm, which was already quite dim. "Especially considering the fact that they missed the first one."

"Everybody missed the first one," I say matter-of-factly. "Even Peeta and I."

"Right," he continues, "so prep team, guests and makeup artists at the same time…" He writes that on the paper.

"And Effie has to send us the dresses," I remind him, so he writes down 'wedding dress sender person' next to her name.

"Okay, and…" He turns the paper, but can't find any other name on the other side. "…that's all apparently." He nods satisfied. "That is really great, I think Peeta should bake a cupcake for the reception, because honestly, a cake would just be wasted."

"That is not the whole list," I say, "but we need help with the rest of it."

Haymitch looks at me with his eyebrows raised. "Are you just being lazy and want me to be your secretary? Because I warn you, I am lazier than you two put together."

I have to take a deep breath to keep calm. We do need Haymitch, I remind myself that. "No, we need to know something."

"And I know that something?"

"Yes, you have a TV," I reply calmly.

"You do too."

"We don't watch it."

"I see." He bites the pen he has in his hand. "And what makes you think that I watch it?"

"Do you watch it?" I ask.

"I do, but only the news," he replies scruffily.

"That's what we need," I say. Then I take another deep breath and look at him. "Do they talk about Peeta and I at all?" I finally ask.

Haymitch looks at me weirdly. He knows I have always been nauseated by the fact that my distorted private life has been thrown in everybody's face since the Games, so he probably doesn't understand where I want to get with this. "Sometimes," he replies vaguely, "they have documentaries about your life."

Documentaries? That would be unnerving to watch. "Okay and what's the deal between Peeta and me in those documentaries?" I ask a bit unsure if I want to hear the answer or not. "Are we in love? Married? With children? Do they know our love during the games and war was fake?"

Haymitch puts the piece of paper and the pen tidily back on the table, and puts his hands on both sides of them. "First of all, you might not know that, but your love – or at least part of it – was not completely fake. I don't think I would be sitting in your living room helping you organizing your wedding if it were."

I am sure the temperature in the room just raised abruptly because my cheeks are hotter than before.

"Second, you have no children," he adds, "word in town is that you lost your ability to conceive after your miscarriage. But yes, you are still married, and yes, you are madly in love with each other."

"That's what they say in the news?" I ask unconvinced.

"Okay, I might just leave the TV on to keep me company in the middle of the night and end up watching other things too," he grunts, "sorry if I don't have a fiancée like some other people do."

"Nice excuse," I say quickly, "okay, so everybody is still convinced that we are married, except for the people that already knew that we were actually not." I think about it and don't like it, even though I don't care what everybody thinks about our life, if they really have to know, I would rather have them known the truth than lies. "Why?"

Haymitch opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. "Why what?" he asks finally.

"Why wouldn't they say the truth about us?"

He sighs, probably this is even worse than when he had to train us for the Games. Too many questions. "Katniss, this government is still very fragile. They can't risk to make a mistake that will subvert everything they had done so far." He scratches his beard. "Many people in Panem had fought only because of you, because of your love for Peeta and of what it meant. It was like a flame in those dark days. You were their inspiration and their strength; their mockingjay and their girl on fire."

He knows I don't like to be called that, but I know he is trying to make a point. "Since when are you so poetic?" I ask, instead of getting mad.

"It was in the promo for the umpteenth Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark's documentary the other night," he replies.

"Okay," I reply. "So, that basically confirms what Peeta and I were thinking."

"Does it?"

"Yes." I go back to the invitations and I particularly like one with primroses on it. Much better than the arrows and bows of the first one I saw or the one with the bread.

"And so?" Haymitch seems confused.

"So, we were wondering how to behave exactly," I finally say, "I mean, do we keep the wedding secret? We don't want any publicity anyway but… do we ask the guests to keep quiet about it? And who can we invite that will not… you know… tell everybody…"

Haymitch laughs so hard I think he is going to fall off the chair. Peeta even walks into the living room, his hands covered in flour, and looks puzzled at us. "No more, no more," says Haymitch amongst fits of laughter, "my side hurts."

Well, I bet it's his liver, but I don't say it. "What's so funny?" I ask.

"You want to keep your wedding quiet," he says, breathing hard after all the laughing, "you want to keep your wedding quiet and you invited…" He clears his throat and suffocates other chuckles. "…you invited the number one source of news in District 12." He points to Greasy Sae's name. "Two crazy girls." He points at Annie and Greasy Sae's granddaughter. "An alcoholic and four of the most gossipy people I have ever met in all my life."

"So what you are saying is that we should only invite Mrs. Everdeen?" asks Peeta.

"If you want to keep it a secret," replies Haymitch, slowly getting back to his normal self. "You probably shouldn't have told me either."

I am starting to think that he is not going to be of any help at all. "Listen, Haymitch," I start really seriously. "We do want all these people, it's important to us."

"Look at you, all sentimental," he says, faking a sweet tone. "Not you, you are always sentimental," he adds towards Peeta.

Peeta doesn't do much except rolling his eyes and shaking his head and then he goes back to the kitchen, leaving the two us alone again. Me having to deal with Haymitch again. Thank you, my future husband. "I'm sure they'll understand," I say tightly. "You do."

"I'm very smart," he replies cockily. "You forget that's my superpower."

I groan. "Okay," I finally say, "we have been sitting here for hours and accomplished nothing. What we actually need you to do is telling us if the people that we are going to suggest as guests are a good choice or a bad one."

"A bad one."

"You don't even know who—"

"I trust your judgment."

"Haymitch!" I thunder. I think I would rather deal with him when he is drunk, he gets stuff done much quicker and leave to fall asleep on the couch instead of this sober, sarcastic self. "Just listen to me."

He rolls his eyes and grabs the pen and position it on the paper. "I'm listening," he says dryly.

"Okay," I finally get to start, "Beetee."

Haymitch thinks about it. "Okay. I'll just start the crazy guests list on the back of the paper."

I ignore him. "Johanna."

"Crazy person number four," he says, writing her name under Beetee, Annie and Sae granddaughter's. "But she is mostly harmless when it's up to talking about these things, I guess."

I guessed that too. "Delly."

Haymitch seems satisfied. "That could actually work." He writes her name too. "She is normal and all right."

"Tigris?" I add cautiously.

"Yeah, that's crazy," he says simply, without writing. "I don't think she would travel that far anyway. Not with at her age."

"We can always send her an invitation," I suggest.

"If you insist but she coming to see you with Effie and the weird trio could be quite suspicious." He writes her name down anyway, probably to make me happy and keep this going.

"Thank you," I say, "I don't know… Peeta says that we should invite Plutarch…"

"Because he saved you in the arena." He scratches his temple. "And you don't want to because he didn't save him." He doesn't wait for my answer. "I'd say, invite him, it's not like it's too likely that he will come anyway. You know… stuff to do, television programs to invent. A hard life he leads."

"Great," I say absentmindedly. "We want Dalton to celebrate the wedding, even though he is from District 10."

"You could have Paylor to celebrate it, if you ask her nicely."

"The President of Panem?" I ask. "Yes, that would keep things quiet."

Haymitch lets out a snort. "You can invite her anyway. I'm sure she is the first one who wants secrecy on this wedding."

"Great," I say, a bit tired about the whole thing. "Write her name down and I think we are there."

Haymitch writes her name and reread the list. "Really?" he asks after a moment. "You sure you are not forgetting anybody, sweetheart?"

I sink in the chair. "I don't want to see Gale."

"And I don't think Peeta would like that either," adds Haymitch. "But he is your cousin," he teases me. "What about his family?"

"I can't invite his family without inviting him, now, can I?" I spit out a bit more vehemently than intended.

Haymitch shrugs his shoulders and stretches his arms above his head. "I don't think so. So, Gale, yay or nay?"

I roll my eyes very emphatically. "I'll think about it." I don't want to make this day more awkward than intended. With my mother that will probably cry, Annie that will remember the day of her own wedding and melt and my prep team that will aww and sigh all the way. Do I need more drama than I can afford? Not really. Do I want Gale at my wedding? I don't... Okay, I guess… maybe. I do. I just want to see him, really. I kind of miss him after all. Well, I have very strong mixed feelings when I think about him, that is the truth. Maybe I do need to see him to make up my mind. Gale, friend or not friend?

"Okay, Gale, yay," I say while Haymitch is standing up. He bents his knees and scribbles 'Gale' rather quickly.

"Family?" he asks, without looking at me.

"Family," I sigh.

"How many are there?"

"His mother, two brothers and one sister."

He writes 'Hawthorne x4' and finally stands up straight. "I like the one with the roses," he adds, nodding towards the invitations. "Not that you were asking my opinion, but really… bread? Keep it for when you open your bakery."

"They are primroses," I say instinctively.

He pats my shoulder on his way out and I hear him calling after Peeta. As soon as the door closes behind his back, Peeta joins me in the living room. A tray of beautifully decorated cupcakes in his hands.

"Are we celebrating something?" I ask and my face probably lights up.

He places the tray on the table and sits where Haymitch has been sitting. He picks up the guest list and skims through the names. He said I could invite whoever I wanted, and he usually doesn't say things that he doesn't mean, so I know he will be fine with almost everybody. I should really start talking to him before he reaches Gale's name.

"Yes," he says, putting the list back down. I am just not too fast these days. "We are celebrating the fact that we have a finished guest list and… invitations, I suppose?"

I hold up the primrose one. "Thank you," I say, handing it over to him so that he can make copies.

"I thought you would have chosen that one, but I tried to help you through the process," he says, nodding at the other invitation drafts. "I really didn't think you would have chosen bread or arrows ones."

"So, you manipulated me," I say, faking outrage.

"I think I said 'help'," he replies, smiling.

I stick out my tongue and go for a cupcake, but Peeta grabs my wrist before that can actually happen. "These are not common cupcakes, Katniss," he says seriously. "They are smaller versions of our wedding cake. You have to choose one."

I look at the tray and finally notice the absolutely gorgeous patterns that each of them has. Each different from the other, each decorate to the most minuscule detail.

"You just have to imagine them on a bigger scale and on two, three or four layers," he says, "depending how many you want."

There are twelve little masterpieces on the tray. One is white with strings of roses – primroses again –, one has a complicated pattern of dark chocolate on a white background, one has a sprinkle of sugar hearts on cream.

"Do you like them?" asks Peeta, his voice nervous because of my prolonged silence.

I raise my eyes on him. "I love them," I reply breathlessly. "I love them all, Peeta, and I think it's absolutely unfair that I have to choose by myself." I push the tray towards him. "Which one do you like?"

"I-I made them for you, Katniss," he replies, "you choose."

"No, you do it," I answer firmly. "I want to know which one you like." I cross my arms over my chest. "Or I'm not going to choose anything. And you'll have to make twelve different cakes."

Peeta sighs. "Fine," he says, "I like this one." He grabs a cupcake and shows it to me. It is covered in a creamy frosting, with elaborated decorations and in the middle a sugar pearl that looks exactly like a real one. Like the one he gave me during the Quarter Quell.

I smile. "I think we found our wedding cake, then," I say. He smiles back and offers it to me and I take a generous bite. It is good, and there is an hidden heart of chocolate inside. The frosting is made of sugar, but it hides a layer of custard, and the decorations are made with chocolate. I was right, the pearl is made of sugar too and it melts in my mouth.

"You like it?" he asks.

"Love it," I reply, munching on the cupcake.

He gives it a bite on the other side and nods. "Not bad, actually." We finish it together and I surely can't wait for the bigger version.

"What do we do with the other ones?" asks Peeta, throwing away the cupcake holder.

"Are you joking?" I ask, absolutely not afraid of showing my greediness in front of him. "I don't know about you, but I am going to have as many as I can without puking."

xxx

"Oh man, will this ever end?" Haymitch is looking at Peeta and me from over his shoulder. A bottle that is particularly hard to open is in his hand. A glass on his kitchen table is awaiting to be filled with the bubbly liquid. We don't dare sitting at the table, we only need a small little information from him.

"If you want to know when this is going to end," says Peeta, "you have to help us pick a date."

He pulls the cork and finally opens the bottle with a loud thump. He pours himself a glass of wine and seems in a great haste to drink it before we can go on talking. "I'll tell you a secret," he says after he has downed the liquor, "you get a calendar, close your eyes and put your finger randomly on it. The day it lands on will be the day of your wedding."

Peeta shakes his head softly. "You are missing the bigger picture, Haymitch."

"Ah, of course I am," he replies and from his tone I start to think that he doesn't like to be our neighbor anymore. Not that he has ever been too thrilled about it really.

"We need a date when there are not too many tourists around," I say. Tourists have not really been a problem for us so far, but they keep coming and coming and some of them are here just to see us. I'm not egocentric, I actually have been told that from an elderly couple from District 10 who came here in July and from a couple of guys who asked me if I were still married to Peeta. What a nerve! And people are coming to see Peeta's pictures too and try his cakes and once his book will be printed out, they will come to have it signed. I think some girls were here too, just to see him.

"They come in summer and winter most of any other season," says Haymitch, drinking his second glass. "That's what they have been saying on television, at least."

"So, fall or spring," Peeta says, looking to me.

"Fall is just gone…" I reply, implying that I don't want to wait too long. I am already extra stressed for all the preparations.

"So, spring?" he asks, smiling softly. Then something dawns in his mind and his smile broadens. "Let's make it your birthday."

"That's like a national holiday," says Haymitch, his voice slurring a bit already.

"No, it's not," I reply disgusted. I am almost agreeing with him when I think that people may be coming to see me on the day of my birthday. Bringing me presents, wishing be 'happy birthday'… even people I might not have invited to the wedding. "How about May 1st?" I suggest. "It's before my birthday, but close enough to it and…" And what? I don't know, a day is just as good as any.

Peeta grabs my hand and squeezes it. "So, May 1st?"

I nod. "May 1st."

"You here on May 1st, Haymitch?" Peeta asks him sarcastically.

Haymitch rolls his eyes. "No, I have to fly on Buttercup's back to the Capitol and learn how to knit a blanket with Enobaria that day."