It's almost two by the time Peeta and I are making our way across town, which is later than I was hoping for, but we got hung up at Haymitch's. We decided to wait to tell our families until after we did the forms, but we thought Haymitch would need the extra time to put himself together for the toasting so we woke him up before leaving the Victor's Village. I woke Haymitch the way I always do, by dumping a pitcher over his head, but after that Peeta insisted on staying and helping him clean up. He really is too nice for his own good sometimes.

Haymitch had grumbled incoherently for a while once we'd explained our plans. I could only make out the occasional word; "foolish," "wedding," "Capitol," and "idiots" figured prominently. Eventually he gathered his wits to produce one intelligible sentence: "I guess looking over-eager can't hurt." Then he vomited. I suppose that's his way of giving us his blessing.

We had discussed before leaving home whether we should get dressed up for the wedding. Normally women will rent a white dress and men will wear their nicest suit of clothes. Peeta seemed to want to, but I was strongly against it; after being dolled up in the Capitol, even this small bit of dressing up left a sour taste in my mouth. "Besides, if we go rent a dress then everyone will know what we're doing. I don't want all that attention." Peeta didn't argue with that.

He surprised me, however, when he went and got his cane before we left the Victor's Village. I hadn't seen him use it since the first week after we got home. "Just in case," he explained a bit hesitantly. "I've never walked all the way to town without it." He spent days circulating throughout the crowd at luncheons and banquets without needing the cane's assistance, not to mention helping me move yesterday. But somehow I could feel that what Peeta really needed in that moment wasn't encouragement, but acceptance. So I said nothing; I just took his free hand and smiled at him, and we set out for town.

With the Justice Building closed, we instead head over to the nicest house in Twelve outside of the Victor's Village. I almost go to the back door out of force of habit, before Peeta redirects me to the front. But when I go to knock on the Undersees' door, he stills my hand.

I look up at him in question, and I'm surprised by the nervous tension on his face. "Katniss," he begins, then stops and hesitates before speaking again. "We're not getting married just to prove a point to Gale, are we?"

I'm shocked by his question. Shocked and pissed off, and I'm about to unload on him when I quickly replay the morning in my head, and I have to hold myself back. I can see how someone might think that, but it hurts to think that Peeta might believe it. "Of course not. I love you, Peeta."

Peeta sighs a little. He reaches out and takes both my hands in his; I let him for the moment. "I know that," he says. "And I love you. But that doesn't mean we have to get married today."

"Are you saying you don't want to?" I ask. And because I lash out when I'm hurting, I add, "You had the chance to say no, you know."

Peeta ignores my jab. "I would love to marry you, whenever you want to. But that doesn't have to be today. The last thing I want is for you to wake up tomorrow, or next week or next year or in ten years, and regret for one second that we rushed into things."

I let out a groan of frustration. I appreciate how much Peeta looks out for me, I really do. It's literally saved my life, more than once. But right now it's just frustrating, because at base the thing he's trying to protect me from is himself. He thinks one day I'll regret marrying him, when the truth is exactly the opposite.

Yet I can't truly be angry with Peeta. It's not his fault he feels this way. It's his mother's fault; she's the one who drilled into his head the idea that no one could love him, that he would never be anything but a burden to the people around him. And it's partly my fault, I act on impulse and rarely ever stop to explain myself, hoping that my actions will explain what my words cannot. It's easy to see why that would lead someone to think I might do something I'd later regret. Especially someone like Peeta, someone who speaks so beautifully, someone who thrives on words. Peeta needs more than my sudden action, he needs to know why. Peeta needs to know what I'm feeling right now.

I really wish I was able to tell him. But I know I'm not. I don't have the words. So instead I grab his head in both hands and slam our lips together.

Peeta lets out an involuntary gasp at my sudden action, and I take the opportunity to thrust my tongue into his open mouth. As I tilt my head and continue to move my lips against his, he starts kissing back. I feel his arms wrap themselves around my back, one just under my shoulders and one near the base of my spine and gradually working its way lower. I move my hands behind his head, alternately stroking down his neck and tangling my fingers in the short hairs there, eliciting a delicious noise from the back of his throat. Or did that moan come from me? I can't keep track as Peeta presses back against my mouth just as hard as I'm pressing myself into him. He pins me up against the wall with his entire body. Soon I can't hear any sounds over the roar of my heart pounding and the blood rushing through me.

When I come up for air, we're pressed so closely together that we may as well be one person. Peeta has abandoned my lower back and now has a firm handful of my backside. My arms are wrapped so tightly around his neck that I've nearly pulled myself up off the ground. Or maybe Peeta did that. It couldn't possibly matter any less.

Peeta's eyes are just regaining their focus as I look directly into them. "I love you, Peeta. I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?"

As I watch his smile slowly grow wider, it's like I can see his brain recovering from our kiss and figuring out what I just said. "Yes," he breathes out, nodding his head dumbly. "Yes I want to marry you. I always have."

"I want to do it now," I say. "What would we be waiting for exactly? I'm not going to love you any more in six months than I do right now. We're not suddenly going to be more dedicated to each other than we already are. Do you really want to wait?"

"No," he says, again mirroring his words with a shake of his head.

I smile back at him. "Good. Then knock on the door."

He grins, and takes a step back. I release my hold on his neck and he gently places me back on the ground. As he turns to knock on the door, I try to smooth out the hair I've disrupted behind his head. He turns back to me and begins straightening my shirt.

I can't help the blush that spreads on my face. We've certainly had our share of passionate kisses lately, but the entranceway in front of the mayor's house may not be the best place for them. I shudder to think exactly how obviously our previous activities are painted across our faces as I hear footsteps approaching the other side of the door.

I'm expecting the Undersees' housekeeper to answer, but instead it's Madge who opens the door. "Katniss! Peeta! Is there another banquet we forgot about?"

I can't help but smile at Madge, my nervousness dissipating. It occurs to me that I probably never smiled at her in all the years we were friends before the Games. I don't know which is the bigger aberration, how little I smiled back then or how much I've been smiling lately. Peeta and I saw the Undersees every day for the last month at the victory events, but this is the first time I've seen Madge since the Games when I haven't had to be Capitol Katniss. Even though we weren't as close as Gale and I were, I find I've missed my friend. "No, actually, we came to ask you for a favor."

"Really?" She seems overjoyed at this. "Well, come in then."

She leads us down a hall into a sitting room. I've become much more familiar with the mayor's house over the last month than I ever imagined I would be. "I have to admit, I didn't think I'd see you two for a while after that last event on Friday," Madge says.

"To tell the truth, we didn't either," Peeta says. "We've spent the last few days trying to figure out what exactly we want to do now that we're back." He gives me a quick look before turning his attention back to Madge. "And, well, I guess it's going a bit more quickly than we thought it would."

Madge seems intrigued. I think she knows where this is going. "Oh, really?" she says.

"Madge," I say, deciding to just get to the point, "like I said we kind of need a favor." I pause for a moment. "We want to get married. Today. And since the Justice Building is closed, we were hoping your father could help us out."

Madge looks like she might explode with excitement. "Are you serious?" she almost shrieks, before running over and grabbing us both in a big hug. "I had a feeling that's what you were getting at, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. Oh, this is so exciting!"

Seeing shy, quiet Madge bursting with excitement like this is unusual. She's far more excited for my wedding than I am, actually. I don't really care about the wedding, which is why we're doing it at the mayor's house on a Sunday afternoon with none of our family here. The wedding is just a means to an end for me; the part I care about is spending my life with Peeta. But however reserved Madge normally acts, she was always interested in jewelry and dresses and other stereotypically girlish pursuits, so her excitement for my wedding doesn't really surprise me.

"So, do you think your father will be able to marry us today?" Peeta asks.

"Oh, yes, of course he will," Madge says, finally letting us go. "He does emergency marriages all the time. Come on, he's upstairs in his office."

Emergency marriages? I'm not entirely sure I understand what Madge is saying when she uses that term. Peeta and I are eager to be married, but we're not in an emergency. I shrug it off as Madge leads us up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. She knocks once at a set of double doors before breezing into the room, Peeta and I trailing in her wake.

Despite Madge being the closest thing I had to a friend in school, I had rarely ever met Mayor Undersee before coming home from the Games. Other than when he presented me with a medal following my father's death, the only real interaction I ever had with him was occasionally selling him strawberries. I normally dealt with the Undersees' housekeeper or sometimes Madge, but occasionally the mayor would be the one to answer the back door when I knocked. I found him to be polite, if reserved. He seemed like someone who could have been jovial but just didn't have the energy for it. He always seemed tired, which I was more than a bit disdainful of at the time. Even if I didn't share Gale's knee-jerk anger at merchants, I mentally scoffed at the idea of the mayor having anything close to the difficulties we faced in the Seam every day. This was before I learned what dealing with the Capitol was like.

I got to know the mayor a lot more in the weeks following our return from the Games. He was part of almost all of the Victory events we attended. Once I knew the kind of weariness caused by trying to appease the Capitol, I recognized it in the mayor. I believe he recognized it in Peeta and me as well, because as the month of balls and banquets wore on he would spend more and more time with us. I began to feel that, much like Haymitch was a kindred spirit in that he was the only other person in Twelve to have gone through the Games, Mayor Undersee was one as well, to a lesser extent, as he was the only resident of Twelve other than the three Victors to have to deal with the Capitol on a regular basis. Well, other than the Peacekeepers, I guess. He was still very reserved in many ways, but as we became more comfortable with each other I found him to be quite friendly as well. If the Capitol was angry at Peeta and me, it would be good to count on the mayor as an ally, and as the month wore on I was pleased to find that I thought of him as such.

"Katniss, Peeta. What a pleasant surprise," Mayor Undersee says, standing to greet us as we follow Madge into his office. "I didn't think I'd see you two again so soon."

"Neither did we," Peeta says, echoing his earlier answer to Madge.

"Is everything all right?" the mayor asks, suddenly concerned. "Has something happened?"

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong," I say hastily. "It's just, um…" I start to stumble over my words.

"Dad, they want to get married," Madge explains.

"Oh really?" the mayor says.

"Yes," Peeta says. "We'd like to be married. Today. And since the Justice Building is closed, Katniss thought that you would be able to help us out."

"Of course, of course. I always keep copies of all the marriage forms here in the house," Mayor Undersee says as he begins opening drawers. "Every so often someone will come in with an… emergency."

That's the same term Madge used earlier. "Emergency?" I ask, not understanding.

"Er, usually when someone needs to get married urgently, it's due to… unexpected early labor." I must make a sound when I realize what he's saying, because he then asks, "This isn't that kind of a situation, is it?"

"No!" I almost exclaim.

"We're not in an… emergency," Peeta says, using the mayor's terminology. "We're just impatient."

"After being reaped into the Games, waiting for the proper time loses its appeal," I explain. "Even waiting an extra day."

"I can only imagine," the mayor says. My respect for him goes up when he doesn't say I understand as many people would have, because honestly he doesn't.

"Now then…" he begins as he gathers forms from various drawers in his desk. "You're both over the age of sixteen so you don't need the parental waiver…" He sets aside one of the forms. "And since you both already have your Victory Houses you don't need a housing assignment…" He sets aside another of the forms. "You need a district official to administer the vows, that'll be me, and because you're under eighteen you'll need an additional witness. Madge here can fill that role, unless there's someone else you'd rather go and get?"

I shake my head. "No, that'd be fine. If you're willing, Madge?"

Madge is still beside herself. "Of course! I'd love to!"

Peeta and I fill out the forms. Madge cosigns a couple of them. Mayor Undersee administers vows. Madge looks like she may cry. And at the end of it, Peeta and I are husband and wife.

"Now, this won't be completely official until I drop the forms off with the district clerk when I go to the office tomorrow morning, but other than that you are as married as I can make you. Let me be the first to congratulate you, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark." The mayor is beaming as he says this, and I can't help but smile back. I never wanted to be Mrs. anybody, but right now the thought that I'm now Mrs. Peeta Mellark makes me incredibly happy. I can't help but grab Peeta and press a quick kiss against his lips, even with Madge and Mayor Undersee standing there watching us.

I look at Peeta; his adorably unruly blond hair, his strong jawline, his bright smiling eyes, his lean arms and chest; and suddenly my thoughts fall into place: I'm married. Today is my wedding day. That means tonight is my wedding night. Somehow, in all of my excitement about marrying Peeta, that never occurred to me.

Has Peeta been thinking about that? Knowing Peeta, he probably dismissed the thought out of hand. He'd stay with me for the next fifty years and never ask for more than the occasional kiss. The bigger question is, now that I've thought of it, what am I going to do about it?

I'm not an idiot. I know about sex. Just because I was never interested before doesn't mean I'm ignorant. My mother is a healer, and I went to school surrounded by teenagers, after all. I know what goes on behind the slag heap. I know what sex is; it sounds uncomfortable, frankly. I know a girl's first time often involves pain, and blood, and from the way some girls describe it I've never really understood the appeal.

But none of those doubts seem to occur to me when I'm kissing Peeta. Little by little, we've been progressing our physical relationship, and it's not like I don't know what we're building to. Last night we spoke of it quite plainly. In those moments, none of my previous reservations seem to hold any sway over me.

I remember the hunger I felt during that one kiss in the cave during the Games. The hunger that came to full bloom on the train home. The hunger that I feel now every time our lips and bodies touch, even on my mother's back porch, or just outside the mayor's front door. A hunger for more. A hunger for Peeta. And I admit to myself that, in the end, I don't really have a decision to make here. My decision was made a long time ago.

There isn't anything I don't want to share with Peeta.

I look over at Peeta. My Peeta, he's officially mine now. My Peeta, with his blond curls falling into his eyes, seemingly begging for me to reach out and stroke them back off of his face. What would they look like plastered to his forehead by the sweat of our exertions? My Peeta, with those bright blue eyes that overflow with love and devotion. What would they look like brimming with lust? Would they darken with desire? Or would they light up with joy? My Peeta, with his powerful arms that can easily lift hundred-pound bags of flour, or hurl massive weights for the Gamemakers, but are so gentle when they hold me at night, so calming when they soothe me after a nightmare. His hard chest and strong body toned by years of hauling heavy bags of ingredients at the bakery. His large hands, strong enough to stretch and mold the heaviest doughs, but delicate enough to create beautifully intricate pastries and cake decorations. How would those skilled hands feel on my body, kneading my flesh?

All of a sudden, I quite consciously realize that I need to start thinking about something else before I become noticeably flustered. I've been standing here staring at Peeta for who knows how long, not noticing that conversation has continued around me. "Thank you so much for helping us out today," Peeta is saying. "It really means a lot to us." It isn't until Peeta says so that I realize just how much it does mean to me.

"I know it's short notice," I find myself saying, "but would you like to come over to our house later for the toasting?"

Madge's face lights up, but the mayor is already begging off. "We wouldn't want to intrude…"

"It wouldn't be an intrusion," Peeta says.

"We wouldn't have invited you if we didn't want you there," I add. "Just ask Madge, I'm not that nice."

The mayor smiles warmly. "Well, if you insist…"

"Please, we'd love to have you there." A sudden thought occurs to me. "Just… This isn't going to be like one of those big Capitol victory events," I explain. "This is just dinner. Nothing fancy."

"Had enough of those victory banquets?" he asks.

"YES!" Peeta and I exclaim simultaneously, earning a solid laugh from the mayor.

"Okay, so nothing special. Just the marriage of the Co-Victors," he says, his eyes sparkling at his small joke. "What time should we come by?"

"Six," supplies Peeta. "Like Katniss said, we'll have dinner, then the toasting."

"And there'll probably be an incredibly beautiful cake," I add. Peeta chuckles.

We need to get back home if we want everything ready by six, so we say our goodbyes to the Undersees and make our way across town to the bakery. Peeta is oblivious, but I make note of the curious mix of reactions we get as we walk. I noticed the same thing at some of the Victory events, but it was less pronounced in the formal setting. There are some people who are clearly enamored by the Star Crossed Lovers, pointing and staring and occasionally swooning at seeing us together. Others eye us warily, remembering six weeks earlier when they were watching us murder children on their televisions. And, despite everything that's happened with Peeta and me, there are still people who have the typical Twelve reactions to seeing a merchant boy with a Seam girl. I wonder idly if they still think he's paying me, even though I could buy half the town with my Victor's stipend.

We arrive at the bakery to find all four Mellarks in the storefront, an unusual occurrence. They appear to be in the middle of a conversation, which stops when they all look up at us as we enter. This is the first time I've seen Peeta's mother since we got back, and I'm not looking forward to it. But I know Peeta wants to talk to her, he still hopes that she might at least be civil for our wedding, so it's just as well that she's here now and we don't have to talk to her separately.

Of course his mother is the first to react. "What is she doing here? You know we don't allow Seam trash in the bakery." she says with a sneer. "You know if you keep letting yourself be seen with her then you'll never get a proper girl to consider marrying you."

Not an auspicious start.

Peeta's hand is nearly crushing mine now, but he shows no other outward reaction. His voice is tight, but steady. "Mother, you know I'm not interested in marrying any other girl. And I don't think any other girl would want to marry me once she finds out I'm already married."

The mix of reactions he gets is interesting. Peeta's father looks genuinely pleased for a moment, before taking an apprehensive look at his wife. Barlee is slack-jawed in shock. Rye is smirking as if he's thought of the perfect barb to throw our way.

But Peeta's mother is depressingly predictable, she moves quickly from horror to disgust to rage as she steps out from behind the counter to confront her son. "Don't be stupid," she says. "You're not married, they would have announced it at one of those damned dinners I refused to attend."

I decide to explain. "We've just come from the mayor's house, where Mayor Undersee administered our official marriage. We came here to invite you all to our house later, for our toasting."

Peeta's mother gives me a cold glare, and speaks directly to me for the first time since she threatened to call the Peacekeepers to arrest me for looking through her trash. "You have nothing to say that I'm interested in hearing." She then turns back to Peeta, and I can see her rage building as her hands are clenching into fists and her arms start twitching, as if she can barely hold back from punching someone.

From punching her son.

I've always known what went on in the Mellark house, but now seeing it first hand I truly can't believe this is happening. She looks like she's about to beat Peeta in the head, and Peeta is standing impassively waiting to take it, and the three other men in the room are simply waiting for the inevitable. The reactions – or lack of reactions, rather – of the rest of the Mellarks show how common this situation is.

"And you, you stupid boy-" she begins, but by now the twitching in her arms is too much for me. I instinctively pull Peeta back by our clasped hands and take a half-step to position myself in front of him. Between him and danger. Between him and his mother.

"You should unclench your fists and back away," I tell her. "I wouldn't want either of us to let our tempers get the better of us."

This only seems to make her madder, but before she can do anything Peeta has mirrored my earlier move, pulling me behind him and stepping in front. "It's fine, Katniss." He's addressing me, but his eyes remain locked on his mother. "I'm sure my mother just wants to welcome the newest Mrs. Mellark to the family."

As soon as that name leaves his lips his mother snaps. "Don't call her that! Don't try to dignify what you do with that Seam-rat whore by calling it a marriage! You stupid, worthless boy!" Now she finally raises one fist to strike Peeta across the face, and I'm moving without thinking.

Before I'm fully aware that I'm doing it, I've grabbed her wrist in mid-swing, and twisted her arm around and up into the small of her back. I just hold her there for a few moments, almost as shocked by my action as the rest of the Mellarks seem to be. I can't see Mrs. Mellark's face, but she's flailing uselessly with her other hand, trying desperately to reach me. Peeta's brothers are just staring in utter disbelief. Mr. Mellark looks vaguely miserable about the whole thing; I try to muster some sympathy for this kind-hearted man, but then I remember that he could have done something to stop this any time in the last sixteen years and didn't, so I find I have little sympathy for him now. Peeta just looks disappointed.

I lean in close behind Mrs. Mellark's ear and speak with a clear, steady voice. "If you don't stop struggling, I'll dislocate your shoulder." In truth I'm more likely to do it by accident while trying to restrain her than on purpose, but she doesn't need to know that. She stills, though her body is still shaking slightly. With rage or fear, I can't tell.

"Good. Wise choice," I tell her. "I know Peeta lets you get away with that. He's a kind, gentle person. How he got that way growing up with you I'll never understand. But you should know that I'm not that way. I'm a hunter. A fighter." I remember her words to her son after the reaping. "A survivor, if you will. If someone attacks my family, I fight back. If someone attacks my husband, I will defend him. So you will never touch Peeta again. You will never lay a finger on him, or else I will hunt you down." I pause to let my words sink in.

"Filthy Seam trash," she gets out between gritted teeth. "I should have you locked up for assaulting me in my own home!"

"Do you really think that's likely to happen?" I ask her. "You think old Cray's going to want to report to the Capitol that he locked up one of the Co-Victors from District 12? Can you even imagine the reaction in the Capitol if they found out that the Girl on Fire got in a fight with her mother-in-law? They wouldn't arrest me for that, they'd put me on an overnight train so I could tell Caesar Flickerman all about it!"

"Katniss," Peeta says softly, "we should go."

As soon as I hear the calm sadness in his voice, I feel ridiculous, standing here with his mother in a hammerlock. I shove her away from me with a grunt of frustration. She glares back at me with unrestrained hatred as she rubs some feeling back into her shoulder. I notice no one comes to her aid. Of course, none of them came to Peeta's aid either. Not for sixteen years.

"We came here today to invite you to our home," I say, "which is a place filled with love and joy. To celebrate our wedding, an event wholly dedicated to love and joy. If you can manage to muster up any love for your son on the happiest day of his life, then come over later and celebrate with us. But if all you have in you is hate and bitterness and abuse, then you'd be well served to never find yourself in the same room with me ever again."

Mrs. Mellark seems to have found her voice again as she closes the distance between us. "If you think I'm going to celebrate tarnishing my family with the taint of Seam trash, just because my worthless, soft-headed son is thinking with his-"

She doesn't finish her thought because my fist has made a solid, meaty impact with her jaw, sending her sprawling backwards onto the floor.

Nobody reacts. I guess they're used to violence. After a moment I step forward and stand next to Mrs. Mellark so I can look straight down at her. I'm not tall enough to intimidate people normally, but I'm plenty tall enough to look down on Mrs. Mellark now, when she's lying on the floor due to my fist. From the way she's moving her jaw I don't think I broke it, but there's already a bright red mark forming where I hit her. She'll be the one with an ugly bruise, for once.

For a moment I hate myself for sinking to her level, but I won't let her see that. My voice is quiet but brimming with menace when I finally break the stunned silence. "If all you understand is violence, then I'm perfectly capable of violence. Nobody talks that way about my husband."

For once she has the good sense not to say anything, she just lays there rubbing her jaw. Suddenly the absurdity of what I'm doing nearly overwhelms me, and I need to get out of here. I spin around before anything can register on my face and almost run for the door. But I manage to control my voice as I turn my head and snarl over my shoulder, "Love and joy. Six o'clock!" on my way out.

I don't wait for Peeta, I just take off running. I know Peeta will say something to make me feel better, and I don't want to feel better right now. I run away from the bakery, across town, up the road to the Victor's Village. I'm almost back to the Village when I realize I don't know where I want to go. I don't want to go home, and I don't want to go see my mother yet. For want of any better destination, I simply stop and sit by a tree at the edge of the Village. My physical exhaustion after the run now matches my mental exhaustion after the encounter with Peeta's mother. I rest my elbows on my knees and let my head droop forward into my hands, and just sit there wallowing in how badly I handled everything.

When I finally hear Peeta approaching, I don't bother looking up. He doesn't say anything either, just walks over and sits down next to me. I lean my head over against him as he drapes his arm over my shoulders.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't know what the hell I was doing in there. I just, ugh she makes me so mad! I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Peeta says, trying to sooth me.

"No it's not all right! I went in there to try to make peace with your mother and wound up punching her!" I can feel Peeta shuddering against me. Great now I've made him cry.

Wait, he's not crying…

"Peeta, why are you laughing?"

Peeta tries to speak around laughs. "Do you know, no one has ever done that before? No one has ever stood up to her like that. Customers don't even stand up to her. That may be the first time she's ever had to deal with someone who wouldn't take crap from her. I mean, did you see how absolutely livid she got when she realized she didn't intimidate you?"

I don't want to, but I can't help but smile at that. "She was pretty mad."

"'Pretty mad?' She was madder than she's ever been any time she's hit me. I thought she was going to pop a blood vessel or something." Now Peeta has finally gotten me to laugh.

"Peeta, I really am sorry. I shouldn't have done that to her. It's just, seeing her like that, it's like something in me snapped."

"If there's one thing you and I do, we always protect each other," Peeta says.

I nod. "Yes, exactly. I mean, I always knew she was an evil witch, I knew what she did to you. But I've never actually seen it. Not since…" I trail off, realizing what I was about to say. But it's too late.

"Wait, you've seen that before?" Peeta asks.

I sigh. "Yes., once."

"When was that?" Peeta asks.

"The day you gave me the bread."

Peeta makes a small sound that would have been an "Oh," if he had actually fully vocalized it. We sit quietly like that for several minutes.

I shift over a bit so I can lay down with my head in Peeta's lap. I look up at him and immediately relax. "You loved me even back then, didn't you?" I ask.

"Yes," Peeta says as he begins pulling my hair out of my braid and running his fingers through it. "Ever since we were five years old."

I close my eyes and smile at the feel of Peeta's hands in my hair. Does he know I enjoy this as much as he does? "If we hadn't ended up in the Games together, do you think you would have ever told me how you felt?"

Peeta considers this for a long moment. "I don't know. I'd like to think I would have managed it one day, but all the years I stayed silent suggest otherwise." He pauses for another moment. "If I had told you, would you have given me a chance? A real chance?"

Now it's my turn to consider, and my answer makes me sad. "Probably not. I wasn't open to anything like that. At all. I would have just pushed you away. I mean, I almost pushed you away anyway, even after I fell in love with you."

"Well, then being forced into the Games was a real stroke of luck for both of us then," Peeta says.

"Oh yeah, real lucky. All we had to do to have a life together was be thrown to our near certain deaths, change the rules of the Hunger Games, and make the President hate us."

"Come now, isn't living with me worth making the president hate you?" Peeta asks, joking.

"Yes," I answer, completely serious. Peeta doesn't respond, just leans down and kisses me.

We sit there another few minutes before a thought occurs to me. "Peeta, is there anyone else you want to invite for tonight?"

"Well," he says a bit sheepishly, "I did invite Delly Cartwright."

This catches me by surprise. "What? When?"

"When I was chasing you through town. I ran into her bringing a delivery back to her parents' shop, so I could invite her alone without the rest of her family."

"You could have invited the family," I say, but Peeta just shakes his head.

"I didn't want to. Delly and I were close growing up, but the rest of the family…" Peeta pauses for a moment, and shakes his head again. "They're fine, but I have no burning desire to include them in my wedding."

"Well, is there anyone else you want to invite?" I ask.

"No," he says.

I frown up at him. "Not anyone? Not at all?"

"No," he repeats. "Why, is there someone else you want to invite?"

"No. It just seems like we're not including anyone from your life in any of these events we have, I have so many more people there than you do." In truth this has been bothering me a bit ever since we got back and the Victory events began. "I was always the loner, I was the one with no friends, but I have tons of guests at all of these events, with all of the Hawthornes and now Madge. But you're the friendly one, you always seemed to have plenty of friends in school. Isn't there anyone else you were close to? Anyone you would want to share this all with?"

"No, not really," Peeta says. "I never had anyone I was close to like that. I had a lot of people I was friendly with, but no real close friends. Delly and I grew up together, I've known her forever, but other than that I was never really close to anyone."

I can't help but frown again. "That's really sad."

Peeta smiles as if this amuses him. "You find my life sad?"

I shake my head slightly. "You're such an open, warm person. You have such a giving heart. It does make me kind of sad that you never had anyone close enough to share that with. I closed myself off from the world and I still had Prim and Gale and Hazelle and Madge. You open yourself up to everyone and somehow you were still alone. That makes me sad."

Peeta just smiles down at me. "Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore. I've found someone to share things with now."

"Oh really?" I say, trying to feign seriousness even though I can't keep the wide smile off my face. "And who is this person who finally managed to worm their way into your incredibly open and inviting heart?"

"Well, she didn't really worm her way in," Peeta says, his smile growing. "She's sort of always been there."

"Always?" I ask.

"Ever since I was five years old."

"Well well," I say, "this girl must be pretty special to deserve that kind of attention from you."

"She's the most special girl I've ever met," Peeta says, his eyes smoldering with pure adoration. "She's strong, and brave, and beautiful. She's loyal, and kind, and smart, and fearless, and loving, and a really great kisser," he adds, smirking a bit at the last.

It still makes me uncomfortable sometimes when Peeta heaps praise on me like that. "I'm sure she's not all of that…"

"She's too modest, though," Peeta interrupts me, making me laugh again.

…..

Whee! Things are moving right along now.

I said in an earlier chapter that the plot of CF would enter this story in Chapter 10. I should stop making predictions. Depending on how long things end up being, that might not happen until Chapter 12. But don't quote me on that, I did just say that I should stop making predictions.

I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to leave a review on this story. I know I say that every chapter, but every chapter I get another bunch of great reviews. So Thanks!

Next chapter: There's still one more family to talk to. What will Prim and Mrs. Everdeen think of this turn of events? Plus, the newlyweds prepare for their wedding. (Bifurcated marriage rituals make weird things happen.)

Preview quote from Chapter 9:

"Do you think we're making a mistake?"