HEY GUYS, SO THIS WAS DELETED BRIEFLY BECAUSE I INCLUDED THE LYRICS TO THE SONG, SO NOW THE LYRICS ARE GONE BUT THE STORY REMAINS. HERE IT IS.
Inspired by the song Sweet Annie by Zac Brown Band, because I'd like to think this song is Finnick speaking to Annie (and because the title is Sweet Annie, so there's that). Also because I read two AMAZING Finnick/Annie fics, Treading Water by SabaceanBabe and Where Soul Meets Body from bluetored. Both were extremely well written, and they're each 40+ chapters, so if you need something long to read, hurry on over and read one of those!
I'm thinking this takes place about two years after Annie's games. Finnick and Annie are living together and in lurrrve. Finnick is 21, Annie's 19. Enjoy! DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE LYRICS TO THE SONG SWEET ANNIE BY ZAC BROWN BAND.
Finnick sighs in relief as he finally – finally – pushes through the door of his home on Victor's Island. A month in the Capitol had taken its toll for sure, as it always did, but this time was especially draining. Maybe it was the three-day long barhopping, clubbing, sex-filled rendezvous with one of his most influential and frequent clients, or maybe it was the constant stream of white envelopes with President Snow's handwriting and new names for Finnick to learn and new people to charm. Selling yourself gets tiring after awhile.
But who cares? He's Finnick Odair, gem of the Capitol, favorite of President Snow, favorite of everyone. His smile can get him out of anything, win over crowds, woo women… He is a god, untouchable, flawless, easily taking women's (and men's) fragile hearts and crushing them in his perfect hands. It's too easy. Every woman wants to possess the heart of the Finnick Odair, giving their hearts willingly in hopes he'll repay them with his own.
But his heart only beats for one girl.
One mad, broken girl.
No matter how many times he tells her she's not broken or mad, she gives him a sad smile because they both know that to some degree, she is. When you put the lamb in the lion's den and the lamb is the last one standing, the lamb will have changed, grown teeth and claws and maybe learned some of the tricks. Or, the lamb will have become docile, jumping at shadows and crying when the nightmares come, only to be haunted by the ghosts when daylight breaks.
Regardless if she is mad or sane, broken or not, she is his Annie, sweet Annie. When Finnick comes home, exhausted and at rock bottom, she always knows, knows what to do and knows how to give him the rope and helps him pull himself back up.
As he softly closes the door behind him, he glances at the clock. The glaring red numbers tell him it's 3:17 am, and everyone is asleep at this hour. Finnick considers knocking on Mags' door to let her know he's home, but changes his mind, wanting to let the old woman sleep. He'll stop by in the morning, at a decent hour.
Finnick dumps his bag by the stairs and ascends, stripping off his gold sheer Capitol shirt. He always burns them when he comes home, quietly watching the fabric submit to the flames and sometimes he pretends it's Snow in the fireplace, burning, burning like he will in hell for the devil he is.
He needs to shower, to wash away all traces of the Capitol's makeup and perfume and wash away the false façade he puts on for the cameras, for the clients, because to them he is just a pretty face and a masterful lover to be bought and sought after.
He is only twenty-one, and he already feels as tired as a seventy-one year old man. So young, and yet so old. He's seen more things, done more things than most average seventy-one year old men, and he is not grateful for the wisdom and jaded views on the world.
He stops by their bedroom on his way to the bathroom and peeks in, drinking in the sight of the sleeping girl in the bed, and he's reminded why he continues his visits to the Capitol. It's for her, and for Mags. It's for both of them.
He stands in the shower and lets the water rush down, tipping his face up towards the spray and sighs in relief. Any resident from District Four knows that water can heal all wounds, if you give it the chance, and this time is no different. It's like rain, washing away everything and letting him start anew.
But his favorite part of coming home is when he gets to lay beside his sweet Annie, and sleep, holding her in his arms, finally in the embrace of someone he loves.
The first time he ever came home to her was one of the happiest days of his life.
She had been waiting at the kitchen table, nervously winding a strand of hair around her fingers. Annie was never fully there, at the time. It had only been seven months since her Games and she still balked at bathtubs full of water and cried when she saw anything that resembled blood – juice, wine, actual blood, it didn't matter. It would send her into a flashback and she would be curled into a ball on the floor, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably for up to four hours at a time.
Finnick understood. From his own Games, he killed people with a trident, and afterward, whenever he saw a trident, he would flash back to the scared eyes of the boy he'd murdered… But the memories had faded or been repressed enough for him to function. No, the only thing that truly upset him was the Capitol and Capitol memories. Strangers touching him, kissing him, pulling his clothes off… it still makes him shudder and sometimes wish he was a drunk like Haymitch Abernathy, but that's what Annie's for.
That day he came home to her, he was tired and sad, feeling used and worthless and like life had taken the fight out of him. But when he opened the door and stepped inside, she'd jumped up from the table and rushed him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his shirt.
"I missed you." She'd mumbled.
He felt first surprise; she hadn't yet moved in with him, she was staying with Mags so Mags could keep an eye on her, but Finnick would visit often and he'd try his best to keep her flashbacks at bay, cracking jokes, tickling her until she squealed with laughter, or even just holding her and letting her cry until his shirt was stained with tears and she was leaning her head on his shoulder. He had yet to tell her that she'd left a stain of another kind on him, she'd left her mark on his heart, and it broke every time she cried, and it pieced itself back together every time she smiled.
He had been surprised at first, but wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. "I missed you too." And then he did something he'd been wanting to do, ever since she'd said goodbye and entered the Arena. He bent down and kissed her gently, taking her face in his hands.
She was surprised, and jumped a bit, being skittish as usual, but she just clutched his shirt tighter and stood on her toes, eagerly finding his lips with hers.
When he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, he beamed when he saw the gentle, timid smile gracing her lips and the blush on her cheeks.
"I can't tell you how long I've waited to do that." He punctuated his words with a kiss to her nose.
"I'm sure however long it was, Mags has been waiting longer for that then you."
Finnick laughed. "She would. She knows everything."
Annie just rested her head against his chest. "We missed you." She said again.
"I missed you both, too," Finnick pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Hey, Annie?"
"Hmm?"
When she raised her green eyes to look at him, he realized how nervous he felt. He was Finnick Odair, wooer of women, master lover, charming as a prince… and here he was, feeling so much like an awkward nineteen-year old it was almost laughable. He sometimes forgot how it felt to be a teenager in love.
"Don't go," Finnick suddenly felt terrified to let her go. "I mean, can I stay with you, for awhile?"
"Well, this is your house…" Annie said, but she smiled as she said it. "I should be asking you."
He shook his head and tugged her closer. "Whatever. Just don't leave me, sweet Annie."
Annie rolls over and stares blindly at Finnick's empty side of the bed, pressing her face to his pillow that still faintly smells like him. She knows how much he hates the Capitol, she's held him as he wakes from the nightmares, distraught and lost in self-loathing. She's peered into his green eyes and helped him find his way back to himself, remind him how to leave the Capitol persona behind and become Finnick, just her Finnick.
She hates sleeping alone without him. She hates waking up crying without him, dreams of drowning in lakes filled with blood and his arms aren't there to rescue her. She hates eating alone, sleeping alone, sitting alone, all of it, because without him there, there is nothing.
She briefly wonders why she's awake at 3:05 am. She sighs and rolls over again, cuddling with Finnick's pillow and drifting drowsily into a restless sleep.
She dreams she's on the beach, tranquil and happy. But then, there's a shout, and she turns to see two tributes from her Games fighting (but how could they be there? They're dead! Annie saw them drown) and blood stains the sand. Annie scrambles away from the growing pool of blood, only to fall into the sea, and the bloods trickling in, turning the water red as hands grasp her arms, her legs, dragging her under into the murky water-
Annie wakes with a scream, and to the sound of someone calling her name.
Someone wraps their arms around her, pulling her tight against their chest and she closes her eyes as she inhales the familiar scent of salt and cinnamon. Cinnamon. Finnick smells like cinnamon. He always chews the cinnamon gum because he enjoys the intense flavor.
"Annie…" he whispers, wiping at her tears. "Shh, it's alright, I'm here, it's not real…"
"Finn?" She gasps. "You're back?"
"Yeah, sweetheart, I'm here."
"Thank God," she sobs, twining her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder. "You're back," it's all she can say until she finally stops crying long enough to get a good look at him, at the tired circles underneath his eyes and his tousled hair, still wet from the shower. "When did you get back?" she wipes at her dripping nose.
"About twenty minute ago," Finnick admits. "I didn't want to wake you, but then you started screaming…" he trails off, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She shakes her head, because she already feels ten times better with him there. She moves over and pats his side of the bed, and he slides in easily, cradling her in his arms and they lay down, Annie curled snugly into Finnick's chest and he finally feels the ache in his heart fade. The ache's been there for the whole month in the Capitol, but now that he's back with Annie, his Annie, he can breathe easier. She's the one chink in his armor, the Achilles heel, and he couldn't be happier to have her.
Annie can sense how tired he is. He always comes home distant and not himself. She feels the guilt then, because he's doing all this to protect her, her and Mags, and she just sits at home and jumps at shadows.
"Hey, Finnick," she mumbles.
"Hm?"
"I love you."
That does the trick; it always does. She can feel his smile when he kisses her and pulls her close. "I love you too, sweet Annie."
The first time Finnick met Annie, he was astonished by how she seemed to look at him and see through his carefully crafted exterior.
They were on the train on their way to the Capitol, and she spoke to him, for the very first time.
"You don't like it at the Capitol, do you?"
He gaped. How could this girl, this scared, gentle girl see right through him?
"I never said that," he frantically shot her a look to get her to stop talking, because there were microphones everywhere. He pressed a finger to his lips and motioned around them. She stared at him, confused, then understood and widened her eyes. "I'm sorry," she mouthed.
He couldn't help but grin. She did seem genuinely sorry. He wasn't used to genuine people, and found it quite refreshing. He just nodded to her, mouthing back, "I hate it there. So much."
The innocence was what drew him in, the pure heart was what kept him there. As training went on and they prepared for the Games, he became sadder and sadder, that this girl, one of the best human beings he'd ever known, had to either kill or be killed. If she won, she would become like him, twisted and used, victim to President Snow's whims, and if she lost… well, he didn't want to think about that.
The night before she entered the Arena, he came to her room to say goodnight, and found her crying.
"I don't want to go," she admitted. "I'm scared, Finnick, so, so scared. I can't kill anyone. I can't watch anyone die. I can't do this…"
He'd wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, hey. Shh. It's okay. Remember what we went over in training? The knife throwing? And remember our strategy? Hide for as long as you can, until hopefully you'll be one of the remaining few, and then…" he didn't have to say it. She already knew.
"I can't kill anyone, Finnick! I'm scared I'll end up letting them kill me because I'm too weak!"
"Don't ever call yourself weak," he said hotly, causing her to look up at him. "You're strong and brave and one of the best people I know. You're like…" he struggled for words. "You're like pure sunshine, Ann. All bright and warm and no one can harm you. No one can touch that. Just hold on, okay, and I will be watching you every step of the way. Just remember, you're not alone. I'm going to be there, and I will do everything I can to get you out of there safe and sound."
She'd nodded then, finally worn out from crying. "Okay."
"Feel better?"
She shrugged. "I'm still really scared. I don't know if I can sleep tonight."
Finnick had an idea. "How 'bout if I tucked you in?"
"I'm seventeen, not seven," Annie reminded him, but lay down all the same, and allowed him to pull the blankets over her and tuck her in, like her father would when she was a little girl. "My dad would do this…" she trailed off, thinking of him. "My family… I don't want them to watch me…"
"I know," Finnick soothed. "I know how you feel, but don't worry about them, Annie. Worry about you. You can worry about them when you get back."
She gave him a watery smile and burrowed down into the covers. "Thanks, Finnick. For everything. You've been so kind to me."
He couldn't help it; he'd bent down and pressed a swift kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry about it, sweet Annie. I mean every word of it. I'm Finnick Odair, and Finnick Odair always keeps his promises."
The next day, she went into the Arena, and two weeks later, she came out a very different girl. But, her imminent goodness still shone through, and Finnick did his best to bring it back.
The day she smiled for the first time since the Arena, he counted it as a blessing. And the first time she laughed, he wanted to fall to his knees and thank any and every deity, because she may have been changed and mangled and her mind pushed to the breaking point, but she still was able to smile, and laugh, and the world still had one small bit of goodness in it, in the form of a girl named Annie Cresta.
Finnick wakes at 4 am with his limbs twined so tightly with Annie's he wonders how he's going to get up to go to the bathroom. Her leg is wedged between his, his arm is thrown over her waist, her palm is splayed on his chest, and their foreheads are still pressed together. He untangles a hand from her hair and strokes his fingers lightly down her cheek, memorizing her face because he missed her so violently at times he thought he'd be sick. She's the one good thing in his life, her and Mags, she's the beacon of hope that shines through, reminding him that his life isn't completely awful, that now that he has her with him, he's finally whole.
She shifts and mumbles under his touch, until her eyes sleepily open and she smiles widely when she sees him.
"Hi," he whispers.
"Hi," she whispers back.
"I missed this sight in the Capitol. Not even the sunrise over the water can outshine your smile," Finnick smiles cheekily as Annie blushes.
"Do people even say that?" she gently tweaks his nose and hums when he pulls her closer, his bathroom need forgotten.
"No, just me."
"Well, I suppose that's part of your magnificent charm. You are Finnick Odair, after all."
"I suppose I am. And I'm here to stay for awhile."
"How long's 'awhile'?"
Finnick doesn't know. "Let's just enjoy the time we have. Please, Ann. Don't ask me yet."
She relents, kissing him and he combs his fingers through her hair.
"Was it bad?" she asks after they break apart.
"It always is."
She nods, sliding her hands under his shirt and stroking up and down his back. "I'm sorry."
"Don't," he admonishes gently. "It's not your fault. It's Snow's."
"I know. But I also know how hard it is for you."
Finnick doesn't say anything for a moment, but finally, he does. "It's worth it, you know. To come home to you."
Annie feels her eyes well up with tears at his words, and forces them back.
"My heart's yours, sweet Annie," he tells her quietly. He knows she'll take good care of it. She already does. He takes her palm splayed across his chest and moves it to the left. She feels the steady thrum. "It beats only for you."
Annie takes his hand and places it against the left side of her chest. "Mine too."
And they fall back asleep like that, hands against hearts, feeling their hearts beat as one.
In the morning, Finnick wakes and finally escapes to the bathroom, but he's back within seconds, under the warm covers, and pulling Annie back into his arms.
She doesn't stir, and he's careful not to wake her, because this is probably the first good night's sleep she's gotten since he left. But he knows how it goes. He's the same.
In the Capitol, he will lie awake beside stranger after stranger after stranger, and miss Annie so much he thinks his heart will burst. He doesn't sleep, not without the aid of sleeping pills or copious amounts of alcohol.
But now that he's back and he's here to stay awhile, he can revel in her warm embrace and sleep as long as he wants, letting his weary heart and mind and body rest and let Annie heal him in the way only she can. Her pure goodness is still there, it's survived through her Games and numerous times away from Finnick, but it still shines through, and the thought makes him so drunk on love that he kisses her forehead, her eyelids and nose and cheeks and chin and lips, and everywhere else.
She opens her eyes and runs a finger through his hair. "Morning."
"Indeed it is," he says, kissing her again.
"I love you," she says.
"I love you too, my sweet Annie."