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The organ droned on, buzzing inside her head. Katniss stifled a yawn, resisting the urge to stamp her feet.
These shoes are killing me, she thought, looking longingly out the window at the verdant forest and missing her comfortable work boots.
She wanted nothing more than to ditch the infernal heels and escape the stuffy church hall into the fresh air but, seeing as she had been an active—albeit reluctant—participant in the preparations for this esteemed event (she had provided a rather nice pheasant for the refreshment table), her attendance was mandatory.
Under pain of death of course.
Ostensibly so that, should anything go horribly wrong with the wedding, the perpetrator would be readily on hand to be punished for their infraction.
Needless to say, it didn't inspire many joyful feelings inside her.
Katniss shuffled to face towards the door as What's-Her-Face flounced in on the arm of Peacekeeper Brock. Her dress was a hideous frilly monstrosity of lace and ruffles, and it took Katniss some concentrated effort to keep the disgust from her face.
The parson began to recite his usual speech in a barely-interested monotone. Katniss tuned out, her eyes wandering around the room.
A blonde-haired young man caught her eyes from across the aisle. Peeta Mellark, the baker's son, she remembered.
So her Boy With The Bread had been roped into this "happy" occasion too. He looked as bored as she felt.
His electric blue eyes tilted towards the front of the aisle, as if to ask her, "Can you believe these guys?"
Katniss nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching.
Peeta grabbed at his tight starched collar, pantomiming strangling himself.
A snorting chuckle escaped her. Katniss quickly wiped the smile from her face as dirty looks were sent her way.
-HG-
She caught up with Peeta at the reception. She'd been glaring hungrily at the table full of delicious dishes—all off-limits to her, not being an officially invited guest—when she felt him at her shoulder, a simple cup of water in his hands.
Katniss shifted awkwardly, eyes down on the table. She wasn't sure how to break the ice.
Peeta overcame that uncertainty for her. "First Capitol-style wedding?" he asked.
She gave a shrug. "You?"
"Well, we're bakers so…" He let the natural conclusion finish inside her head.
"Guess that was a stupid question."
Peeta gestured towards a table opposite them. "I actually did the frosting for that cake."
Katniss turned to look, and spotted the elegant little confectionery past the many bodies crowding it.
"It's the only thing here that doesn't look completely gaudy and ridiculous," she said. "Congratulations."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Peeta drawled.
Katniss did a quick scan of the room. The Peacekeepers were all occupied, watching the center of the room where the bride and her happy groom were.
She jerked her head towards the door. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Peeta frowned uncertainly. "Won't we get in trouble if they notice we ducked out early?"
"Not if they don't catch us." She grabbed hold of his wrist and began tugging him towards the nearest exit. "Besides, if I have to stand here looking at that food any longer I'm going to forget myself and start shoving cakes down my dress, and that'd get me in trouble real quick."
Her eyes darted about, alert to every movement of the white uniforms, and she tried not to think too much about the electric tingle she could feel up the hand that was holding Peeta's, the warmth of his palm and how he faintly smelled of sugar and bread.
Once outside she breathed a little easier, but she didn't let go of Peeta until they were well away from the church.
He didn't seem to mind one bit.