Author's Note: Another uneventful chapter, but we are getting closer to the wedding and to the arrival of the guests. I want to write some more smutty scenes (how bad does that sound?), but can't seem able to find an excuse for that.. I'm so excited I will be writing about Gale and Effie and the others coming to the wedding, I have so many surprises in mind for you... Can you guess what they are?

Chapter Seven

The post office, the shiny, new, fully working post office of District 12, is probably the best invention coming from the Capitol. Apparently, it is not an invention. They have always had post offices in the Capitol, only they were working only inside the city. The big news now is that we can send letters and things through the Districts. All you have to do is bringing whatever you want to send to the post office and tell them the District and person you want it delivered to and they will just do it for you. Every day they do it and communication amongst Districts – especially for those without a phone – has never been more swift and organized than this.

"Yes?" an elderly woman behind a counter covered in parcels and letters acknowledges me. Even from that three-letter-word I can detect a strong Capitol accent. Well, her attire would also fool nobody. She has covered her wrinkles in a thick layer of makeup and her hair is violet, while her glasses are ringed with pink plastic that matches the pink dress she is wearing. She must be here to instruct a bunch of employees on the dynamics of the posting world.

"I need to send these," I say, placing the letters on the table.

"How many?" she asks, grabbing a pen, "and where to?"

"The names and the Districts are on the envelopes," I say, tapping my finger on the top one.

She looks at me and reposition her glasses back up on the bridge of her nose. "Good job," she says, "not many people do that." She picks up the envelopes and starts going through them, saying the District numbers without reading the names. "District 10, District Four, Capitol…" And placing the different envelops on different piles of things ready to be shipped. When she finishes, she looks at me from behind her glasses. "Is that everything?"

I squeeze the last envelope I have in my hand, probably ruining the invitation inside. Why is it so difficult? I have to send it, mail has never gone lost in this new and improved Panem and if Gale doesn't show up at my wedding Peeta will think that it's all his fault and that he doesn't want to. I can have that, if it's the truth. I couldn't bear the thought of accusing him unfairly, though. I put the envelope on the table with more force than I should.

The woman looks at me irritated. "District Two," she says coldly and puts it on top of Johanna's envelope. "Anything else?"

"That's all," I reply. "Thank you," I add graciously.

"You are welcome. The letters should reach their receivers by tomorrow," she says, going back to her work.

I walk out of the post office and into the incredibly cold air. A group of tourists walk past me, they have come in the hope to see the snow. Two little girls, not older than Prim, come to me and ask me if they can have my autograph or a picture with me. A weird looking boy wants to touch my scars. One young man invites me to have dinner to the place where he is staying. He is lucky I don't have my bow and arrows with me.

"You did it?" asks Peeta when I walk into the house.

"I did it," I assure him, taking off my jacket, scarf, hat, gloves and shoes in no particular order. "The post office looks very efficient." I slump down on the couch next to Peeta, who is stroking the ugliest cat of the world on his lap. "They say that they are going to receive the letters tomorrow."

"That means that tomorrow we are going to talk on the phone to an extremely emotional Mrs. Everdeen, to an overexcited trio from the Capitol and to a controlling lady that will surely want to take over the wedding," he says, scratching Buttercup's belly.

I snuggle closer to him and place my head on his shoulder. "We should not answer the phone."

"I'm sure Effie would call Haymitch and have him coming here to tell us to pick up the phone," he says, thoughtfully.

"He would never do that," I reply, he doesn't get ordered around by Effie, never has.

"He would if she calls him all day long."

Peeta has a point. People from the Capitol have an innocent but irritating way of obtaining what they want. "How did it go with the letters you delivered?" I finally ask. Today, he had the task of bringing the letters to the people of District 12, while I had to go to the post office.

"Let's see," he starts, while Buttercup purrs in his lap. "Haymitch said that we had already brought him his invitation, what the heck were we thinking, why does he need two and will that mean more cake."

I smile. "He is taking it well."

"Better than I thought," replies Peeta. "Greasy Sae says that she is absolutely ecstatic that we want her at our wedding, and that she will keep her mouth shut about it." Peeta smiles at me. "I gave her a loaf of banana bread and we sealed a pact," he continues. "And I don't think that her granddaughter will say anything. She hugged me tightly and patted my head and that was her response to the wedding news."

"That's sweet," I say. I am quite grateful that Peeta did the round of invitations of District 12 without me, I wouldn't have been good at all with all these feelings and emotions directed to me. I dread tomorrow and the upcoming phone calls.

"And Delly said that she was so very happy for us and that she will be crying a lot when you'll walk towards me at our wedding, and that you should know that now and get over it," he says, chuckling.

I look at him and can't decide if he is joking or not. "Real or not real?"

"Real," he replies, placing a hand on his heart.

"Oh great," I mope, "people crying, just what I want."

Peeta slides his arm around my shoulders and pushes me closer to me. "I might cry too," he says.

I slap his arm playfully. "Don't you dare," I warn him.

He laughs and Buttercup stands from his lap, it stretches its head towards Peeta's and meows for attention. Little, evil cat that wants to steal our moment. I scratch it between its ears and it purrs back to me.

"I bet you'll be the one crying," he chuckles.

I move my head away and look at him. "Oh, you know me so well," I joke.

He kisses my temple and I snuggle even closer to him. I like that. I would like to freeze that moment forever, put it right next the one we had on the rooftop and create a string of happy moments together. I smile and close my eyes. If three years ago someone had told me that I would have been here, hugging Peeta without getting enough of him, I think I would have probably thought this someone had suffered a really bad concussion. I do love being wrong.

xxx

"Yes, we are serious." I sigh and smile to Peeta who is sketching Buttercup very quickly right next to me. "No, I don't think that would be funny either." I pull a lock of hair behind my ear. "Yes, it was very romantic the way he asked." I groan. "Listen, Effie, when you come here Peeta will tell you everything." Peeta glares at me. "I just really want to know if Cinna's wedding dresses, the ones he made for me, are still… no, Effie, don't cry!"

Effie is sobbing loudly in the phone. I don't understand if it is because of the wedding or because I just mentioned Cinna. She tries to say something I only understand "young" and "beautiful" and once again I can't make out if she is talking about the dresses or about us.

"Yes," I say tentatively and grumble my consensus every time I can hear words coming from her. "Of course," I add, hoping that she is not talking about something that I'll regret to agree to. "Listen, Effie, can you send the dresses?"

She sniffs loudly and blows her nose. "Of course, Katniss," she says sweetly. "I know where they keep them, I will send them tomorrow."

I frown and suddenly I am wondering where they keep them. "Where do they keep them?" And who are them?

"Oh, they are stored at the President's mansion, with a bunch of other relics from the war," she replies lightly, her voice back to normality. "But they are not on show, yet."

Yet? I don't want to know what that means. Those dresses don't mean much to me anyway, except for the fact that Cinna designed them, they remind me of one of the unhappiest times of my life. The fact that she called them 'relics' is weird, though. It makes me feel like the events of the war and the Games are millions of years in the past. "Great," I manage to say.

"If I may suggest, Katniss, I really like the pink one," says Effie cheerfully.

Ah, of course she does. "I like green," I say. Annie wore the green dress though. I think I might wear the orange one. Is there an orange one at all? Which one did the people of the Capitol pick anyway? I can't remember. I know I am trying to get lost in my own thoughts to not listen to Effie, but her voice gets more piercing. "Katniss? Katniss?"

"Yes," I say, snapping out of my thoughts. "Sorry."

"What kind of suit does Peeta want?" she asks airily.

Peeta? Right. He has no suits here in District 12. He left everything in the Capitol, just like me. Has he thought about it? He hasn't talked about it at all, I wonder what he wants to wear. I am more than happy to say, "Right, he is right here, Effie, I'll put him through."

He looks at me with his mouth slightly open and tries to mouth 'no', but I am quicker and the receiver is already against his ear and, grabbing the phone, he has to say 'hello'. More time than Peeta would like passes, all I hear is him telling Effie how tall he is, how much he weighs, his measures… What color he would like to wear. I hear him agreeing with Effie when she says that black is good with anything. She also suggests to match our dresses, but we have had enough of that. He frowns when she exclaims that a 'wedding on fire' with our old tributes dresses would be perfect. I can hear everything because her voice is just too high pitched for me to ignore, even if I am not the one on the phone. Peeta is trying hard to find something to say to stop her flown of words and finally he spits out the most dangerous thing he could say, "I trust you, Effie." And hangs up unceremoniously.

He looks at me seriously. "Listen," he says, "I know that you hunt and I do the cooking and the baking and you might be confused about who has to do what here, but you are the girl and you have to do the girl talk." He darkens. "Especially with Effie." He manages to stay absolutely serious even though my smile threatens to become a laugh. I want to reply something, but the phone rings again. For the fifth time today. I think we have received more calls today rather than during all the time that we have had a phone. Before Effie we heard from a very cheerful Beetee; my mother, who assured me that she had finished her share of happy crying before she decided to call; a weird phone call from Annie, who said that she will bring seaweed as a good omen. Then there was Plutarch, who found the whole secrecy thing ridiculous and asked if he could bring two cameramen; and Johanna, who was just happy for us. Literally, that was her message.

"Hello?"

I am aware of someone talking and it's not Peeta. Finally, I notice the receiver is on my face now, Peeta's hand pushing it against my ear.

"Hello?" I reply.

"Catnip?"

I freeze. "Gale?" I whisper.

"Hey," he says and his voice sounds slightly embarrassed. "How are you?"

I glance at Peeta, who is still pushing the receiver against my ear. He is looking back at me intently but calmly. I grab the receiver from his hand and give a faint smile. "I'm good," I reply. "I'm getting married."

"Yes, I received the invitation," he replies. "Thank you for that."

"Well, I wanted my hunting partner to be there," I say. "Are you going to make it?" A part of me wants him to come so badly, another part would feel better if he didn't.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he replies. "I have wanted to go to District 12 for weeks. Just to have a glimpse of the woods and everything else."

"District 12 has changed a lot," I inform him.

"That's what I heard," he says flatly. "Ah, thank you for inviting my family."

"No problem." I look at Peeta. "Peeta and I are happy to have them here." Peeta nods to what I just said and I mouth a 'thank you' to him.

"They want me to let you know that they will all make it."

"Great," I say. I am genuinely happy to see the Hawthornes. I hear a bustling sound on the other side of the receiver and voices that I think I recognize, but that I can't quite place.

"Listen, I have to go," he finally says, "but it was nice… hearing your voice."

I smile involuntary. "It was nice hearing your voice too," I say.

There is silence on the other end and I think he has already hung up. "Gale?" I whisper.

"Yes, no, I'm here," he says quickly. "I'll see you next spring then." He doesn't wait for my answer. "Bye, Catnip."

"Bye," I reply and put the receiver back on the phone. I don't look at Peeta, but I feel like he is looking at me and when I finally glance in his direction I am right.

"I am happy he can make it," he says diplomatically. "I know it means a lot to you."

I nod, then grab his arm and make it slide over my shoulders. I rest my head on his chest and hug him. "He doesn't mean as much as you do to me," I whisper. Somehow I feel guilty for this phone call, and I don't know why. To hear Gale's voice stirred something inside of me, memories of an old life, of freedom in an oppressed land. But I am sure I don't feel for him what I feel for Peeta, especially not when Peeta raises my chin with his fingers and kisses me.

"I love you," he says when we break the kiss.

"Love you too," I reply. I grab the receiver and put it on the table. I can hear the faint tu tu, almost like a tut-tut of disapproval, come from the machine. "Enough for today," I add, thinking that I haven't heard from the prep team yet. "Let's go—"

My suggestion hangs in mid-air as we both turn towards the kitchen window that has just been shaken by a powerful, angry knock. Haymitch is there, his face hard and when he talks, even if he is standing outside, we can hear him perfectly. "Would you answer the phone, already?" he screams. "Your damn prep team is driving me crazy, keeping on calling me!" He glares at us and we can't help smiling at his rage. "I am waiting for a phone call!" he adds in protest and stomps away.

They must have found the line busy every time they have tried to call me. How they knew Haymitch's number is a mystery to me. I look at Peeta as he puts the receiver back on the phone. It starts ringing even before his hand has left it. "Peeta," I groan.

He stands up and scoops up his sketchbook with Buttercup's sketch and Buttercup itself. "Good luck," he says before disappearing into the living room.

I sigh and pick up the phone and when I hear three very excited voices on the other side, I know that I groan too loudly for them not to hear me.

xxx

We have invited Haymitch over for dinner. Greasy Sae has come back to cook and clean for us almost every day since we gave her the invitation for the wedding, so we have more food than we can actually eat between the two of us. We don't like to waste, that is one reason why Haymitch is here, the other one is the little, absolutely miniscule, favor that we have to ask him.

We make sure that Greasy Sae cooks Haymitch's favorite dish – anything that has goose inside, that what he likes since his geese have started to wake him up in the middle of the night – and we wait until he is well fed before we direct the dialogue where we want.

"Did you like the goose?" I ask, collecting dirty dishes here and there from the table.

"Delicious," he replies, "I hope it was one of the males." He cleans his mouth on the napkin.

Peeta smiles and looks at me, I smile back and tilt my head from him to Haymitch, raising my eyebrows at the same time. He takes a deep breath and looks at me as if I have asked him the moon.

"Hey, Haymitch," he begins cautiously, "you have a lot of free room in your house, right?"

Haymitch looks from me to him, sensing that there must be something wrong with such a question. I turn away to turn on the water and start cleaning the plates. I don't really have to do it, Greasy Sae is more than happy to do it for me in the mornings, but I want to do it. Especially at this very moment.

"I do," he says, "I like to have space."

"It gets lonely, though," suggests Peeta, "I mean, I would get lonely."

"We are very different, Peeta." He pours some of the wine he has brought into his glass. "For example, I don't know where you are going with this Peeta, if you think that you're going to move in with me once you get married or something like that, but if you don't get to the point quickly I will throw you a knife."

Peeta sighs. "It would be nice of you if you could put up some people for the wedding," he says very quickly.

I don't know what we were so worried about, because when I turn to look at them after a slightly too long silence, Haymitch is downing his wine, then shrugs his shoulders and gives a faint nod. "That's okay," he replies. "Not someone crazy, though," he adds, standing up. Then he sits down again and look at Peeta. "Is there cake?"