I sleep with Finnick because he's the only one who understands what I am going through.
The first time we seek out each other's comfort is when I can't sleep. I'm sitting by the window in our room. Buttercup is stalking around the floor, hissing softly at me whenever I bother to make eye contact with her. I look over and see Prim and my mother curled up together and the sight hits me with a wave of nostalgia, with them looking like they were in the early morning of the Reaping. I turn away and focus my gaze out the tiny space of glass, but my vision doesn't take anything in. It's all a blur.
We have to sleep so we can look fresh, but I can't sleep because it's so damn obvious I'll just wake up five seconds later, an image of a battered Peeta imprinted against the back of my eyelids. Besides, I feel wide awake after shooting one of those propos. My pulse is thrumming through every vein in my body and all I can do is just sit.
Until the sound of groans reach my ears. The groans of someone in deep pain.
Casting one last glance at my family, who are in undisturbed tranquility, I decide to check on the person who is groaning, though my instincts are already quite aware of who it is. I cross over several rooms before entering Finnick's room. I see him thrashing around in his bed, kicking the covers to the foot of the bed, probably leaving him cold. He's sleeping very fitfully, mouth forming silent mumbles of names.
I rush over to the side, flicking on the light that doesn't really change the dark atmosphere and gently grasp his arm, shaking him with little nudges, not wanting to give him the sense of him being attacked. After a few moments, his eyes snap open, waking with a gasp. He lunges forward, almost knocking his own forehead against mine. He turns his head and squints his eyes against the harsh light of the lamp. He turns his head back to face me.
"Katniss?" Finnick croaks out. I'm looking down at him with a worried expression, alarm rising in my chest. In the revealing brightness of the light, I can now see the sweat glistening on his tan skin, the slight tremble in his muscles, how vacant his sea green eyes look underneath the shield of golden lashes. Despite his natural beauty, despair and fatigue is reeking off of him, something only I could see since I see it everyday when I peer at my reflection in one of the bathroom mirrors.
"Yeah, it's me," I answer in a soft voice, releasing his sleeve from my fingers' grasp.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs while bending his head down with a little sigh, pushing his long fingers through his shining bronze curls. "Did I wake you?"
"To be honest, Odair," I sigh, sitting back at the other end of the bed to give him some space, "I wasn't getting much sleep either."
A bitter, rueful chuckle escapes his lips as he tilts his head back. "You too, huh?" He looks as distraught as I feel, and I press my lips together, not knowing what to say in return. I'm not even sure what would be helpful in this situation anyway, considering that we're both awake in the middle of the night.
He whips out that little piece of rope from his pocket and absentmindedly begins to wind the rope into several different kinds of knots. I'm sort of amazed at how fast and skilled his fingers are moving, creating the knots without even looking, really. A bulge in my own pocket brushes against my fingertips and I remember the rope he had given me. I pull it out and stare at it in my pale palms. I tie a few simple knots before rising from the bed.
"Are you sure you're okay?" But the question is the stupidest one I've ever said. Of course he's not okay. His true love, Annie Cresta, a mad girl who was a District Four Victor as well, is inside the Capitol, possibly being tortured out of her wits just to tear Finnick apart, the same thing they're doing to me with Peeta, all because of our help to the rebellion.
Finnick looks up, his eyes shimmering with something unfathomable. "For now, yeah," he lamely replies, looking back down at the rope, which now carries some complex design of a knot that I would never hope to accomplish. I nod once before turning on my heel, ready to leave. I'm almost out the door when Finnick's voice reaches me again.
"Katniss!"
I whirl back around, my dark braid flying over my shoulder. "Yes, Finnick?"
"Do you mind staying with me for a while?" he asks.
For a moment, I see myself, back in the time before the Quarter Quell, where I had to consume numbers of spoonfuls of sleep syrup and Peeta had barged into my room at the sound of my screams. I had requested him to stay with me, the comfort of his strong arms the only thing securing me. I notice the same glint of pain and desperation in Finnick's lovely green eyes that he is probably trying to hide any sign of in his body, but the eyes are the windows to the soul, the only thing you can't disguise.
I soon find myself nodding. "Okay, I will," I offer to him and the silence is so deep that I could hear the little amount of air he released from his lungs, a small, relieved smile finding its way to his lips before disappearing.
Neither one of us move at first and Finnick pulls back the covers beside him, patting the empty spot. "Come on, Girl on Fire," he beckons softly with a single waggle of his eyebrows. "Every woman would kill for a chance to jump into bed with me, you know. Consider yourself lucky."
The way he teases me so seriously yet flirtatiously makes me smirk a little. I sit down on the bed and continue to weave the knots' magic with Finnick by my side and we quietly talk to each other about nothing.
In District Thirteen, the living quarters aren't exactly spacious, so when a nightmare hits me, the bed can get quite occupied.
Wolves are closing in on us, Peeta at my feet, back against the damp soil, moaning my name. I am trying desperately to pick him up, but the wolves leap on top of me, bringing me down with their heavy weight and I watch helplessly as the rest of them surround Peeta and slowly claw at his skin, chomping their fangs down on his limbs. His screams pierce the air, yells out my name, begging for my help. It reminds me of the time when Cato was being eaten alive by the mutts, moaning out several names, including his partner from District Two, Clove.
The last thing I see is Peeta's blue eyes, filled with agony and helplessness. The sight breaks my heart and I wake with a huge gasp, my lungs yearning for air, which I gulp down hungrily. My heart is thundering in my chest and I feel someone gripping the side of my arm. My eyes trail up the shadow of a strong and toned chest before meeting a pair of wide eyes that bring the color of the sea to shame.
"Finnick?" I ask out into the darkness.
"Hey, hey, hey," he's murmuring softly, soothingly. He keeps repeating this as I press a hand to my chest, as if that would calm down my speeding heart. I take a few minutes to catch my breath and after a while, my heart is slowing down and I suck in one more deep breath before blinking away the leftover traces of the nightmares. I look down to see Finnick grasping my hand. Strangely, I don't let go, since it's the only thing anchoring me to Earth right now.
"Are you alright now?" he whispers. His thumb brushes over my knuckles repeatedly and it's an oddly comforting gesture. My hair is sticking to my scalp with sticky sweat and I flick some strands out of my eyes.
"Yes," I say, my voice barely reaching above a whisper.
"Was it Peeta again?" I look at him strangely for a moment, wondering how he could have possibly known that since the Capitol had attempted to destroy every single person I love and he quickly adds in a slow voice, "You were screaming his name."
Screaming? "Oh God," I mutter to myself while bowing my head.
"It's no problem. Only problem was you took all of the covers, leaving me to freeze to death." Neither of us laugh at the attempt of a joke.
"I'm sorry." I rub my hands up my arms to stave off the cold. There are no heaters in District Thirteen, so it feels very sterile and cold and detached from the rest of the world. "Here." I offer up the covers, sitting up a little.
"Again, no problem, Kat." I frown at the nickname and that brings the ghost of a smile to his lips. "It's kind of cute when you frown. Your nose scrunches up like this." He pokes my nose lightly and I scowl even further, making him chuckle. Now I know he was trying to make himself laugh and all I do is roll my eyes. I then turn back and stare down at the pillow, my eyes boring into it so deep since I'm afraid of what would happen if I set my head back down on it. Finnick notices this and clears his throat almost uncomfortably and this makes me look back at him, eyebrow raised.
"If it helps, I can lie down with you for a bit until you get warm again. You're shivering, you know," he points out and I peer down at the goosebumps popping up on my pale arms.
"Uh . . ."
"Katniss, I promise not to do anything," he says seriously. "Lie back down," he tells me. I believe him and carefully set myself down. I furrow my eyebrows, but he nudges my shoulder, moving to lie on his side. We're facing each other and I look into his eyes, which are drooping shut as he stretches an arm around my back. His touch sends more shivers down my body and I shift a little closer, resting my head against his bicep. I let out a breath, my body slowly relaxing against his. For a second, I imagine me engulfed in Peeta's arms, the warm embrace the only thing healing the panic inside of me.
"Is this better?" he asks, needlessly, I think.
"Yeah."
A moment of silence follows. I curl up beside him a little more and we're about to fall asleep, so he mumbles out with his eyes still shut, "You know, Girl on Fire, for this to be the most effective, we'd have to be naked."
I know he's teasing me and when I grumble, "Finnick," it sounds like a whine, making him laugh, the sound resonating in his chest.
It becomes a routine with us, some nights worse than others. But we're always there for each other, the only people who could help us drag through the day. Sometimes, when I'm woken up from a nightmare, it takes me a few minutes to realize that I'm awake since the real world isn't much different from my nightmares. This time, I'm lying on my side, eyes wide open, blinking to accustom to the darkness. My back is flush against Finnick's, which is now growing taut from his muscles pulling together and loosening.
I wrap my rope around my wrist like a bracelet and stare at it for a moment or two, spinning it round and round. The tips of my fingers are a bit red from tying so many knots, but I don't seriously mind. I used to nurse so many scars from my hunting in the woods.
My sleepy, nostalgic window is broken by the feeling of Finnick stirring behind me, as if a spasm is seizing control of his body. He's grunting out unintelligible sounds and I sit up and turn around. His breathing is becoming erratic, picking up faster and faster by the second. I lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Finnick," I say. "Wake up."
Finnick doesn't respond, eyes still squeezed shut, eyebrows knit together in frustration and he looks so distressed that it makes me feel a little terrified myself. I sway him onto his back, placing a hand on his cheek. "Finnick," I repeat in a more urgent voice. But the world transforms into a blurry mess when a hand grasps around my wrist, fingers digging into my skin so sharply a gasp escapes me. I'm shoved onto my back and now his eyes are wide open, filled with an animalistic nature, as wild and feral as a starving cat, and believe me, I know what they look like. They're the eyes of a madman.
"Finnick," I insist a third time and now he blinks, regaining sanity, recognition finally appearing present in his eyes and soon, realization settles in. He yanks his hand off of mine, looking absolutely appalled at himself.
"I'm so sorry, Katniss." His voice is weak and shaky as he climbs off of me. I just stare at him with wide eyes, not horrified, rather surprised at how tense he is. "I had no idea it was you . . . I just . . ." He rubs his face with his hands. I'm not normally one for physical affection, but when Finnick suddenly collides into my skinny frame, arms wrapped around me in a hug, I cautiously drape my arms around his shoulders, one hand cupped around the back of his head, wanting to comfort him. His face is buried in my chest and I can feel the silent sobs racking down his spine, yet no moisture reaches my shirt. I carefully stroke his hair, placing my chin on top of his silky curls, rocking our bodies slowly backwards and forwards.
"It's okay, Finnick. I'm here . . . I'm going to be here for you." I bend my head to press my lips against his hair and begin to hum a tune into his scalp.
I picture him drowning. Peeta's thrashing his arms around, trying to fend off the sharp waves crashing against him. His thick, golden waves are swaying with the choppy beat of the water. His eyes are bulging out, deep blue depths swelling with panic and agony. Bubbles swirl to and fro around him, engulfing him in a fizzy chamber of tiny, clear spheres. I reach out a hand, only for it to halt abruptly. It's splayed against a hard, thick sheet of glass. Peeta swims forward and his lips are forming one syllable: Help. He keeps mouthing it and I push on the glass, in vain attempts to shatter it, but it's ironically like stone. Hard. Unyielding. Indestructible. I proceed to bang both fists against the glass, desperately trying to reach him, but it's useless. All I can do is watch him drown, the air floating above his head as he sinks like a deadweight . . .
"Katniss!" My name is being hissed in my face, voice faint and barely audible through the ringing in my ears, breath hot on my cheek and my eyes quickly adjust to the darkness. I had jerked awake so fast and abruptly my head almost slammed back against the headboard. Finnick is shaking me, holding my hand as he has been doing the past couple of days.
I rub my eyes. "Where . . ." I trail off.
He touches my arm. "Hey," is all he says and I don't need any more. He lies back down and I join him by his side, my head flat across his shoulder, one arm stretching across his chest and hugging him close to me, my nose inhaling his scent. It's salty and reminds me of the ocean and practically irresistible. No wonder every Capitol woman find themselves drooling like a pack of dogs when he walks by.
"What's the ocean like?" I ask all of the sudden.
"Hmm? You haven't been to the ocean?"
"Only once. On the Victory Tour, but it was only two minutes."
"Pity. It's gorgeous," he says after a minute and he looks extremely wistful. "I could take you there one day."
It's a longshot, but all I mumble is, "Deal."
Finnick is better at awaking from his nightmares than me, but not by much. I'm kind of on top of him, our legs tangled together, one hand splayed across his chest, clutching at his gray shirt. I snuggle even further into his frame, indulging myself in his warm, salty scent. We've been doing this for a few weeks and we've become even closer now.
When he begins to tremble, my eyes fly open immediately, alert on the dot. His eyes soon follow and when he notices my concerned expression, he says softly, "I'm fine."
One fingertip traces his strong jawline and he leans into my touch for a moment before cupping his hand over mine, giving my fingers a squeeze and sitting up. His eyes do that thing they always do when he wakes up. They trail all over my face, raking over every feature, my eyes, my nose and eventually my lips. It makes me shiver. Not in a bad or uncomfortable way, but in a strangely intrigued way. Finnick fascinates me, in an almost dangerous way. I have always wanted to understand him, to know what makes the great Finnick Odair, Capitol darling, tick and now, I do.
"Do you remember when we first met?" I start conversationally, examining a knot I had just produced. This brings me several images in my mind. Finnick, shooting me one of his dazzling, award-winning smiles while shirtless, the sound of crunching sugar, the mischievous glint there and when I had cornered him at the Cornucopia, arrow ready to fly.
The thought brings a smirk to his lips. "You didn't trust me at all, Katniss."
"Yes. And now, I'm glad I didn't kill you the first three times I could."
"Yeah . . . Wait, what?"
I don't know why, but this makes me laugh. A real laugh, one that makes me almost cry at his expression. And I haven't laughed like that in a long time.
"Katniss."
I shake and shiver, eyes still squeezed shut, trying to fend off the dark, hulking shadows of mutts tearing at my flesh. It does more than startle me when I feel a hand brush my shoulder. I lash out blindly, latching onto a wrist and twisting the arm away from me as I sit up too quickly, a rush of dizziness overcoming me like a wave. I kick the covers that pool around me.
"Katniss," the voice repeats, more insistent.
My eyes finally open and I catch sight of Finnick bent over me. "I'm sorry," I immediately say.
"Nothing to forgive, Kat," he says back just as quickly. I can tell he's tired, but he's also very much awake and when he lies back on his side, eyes never leaving my face, I instantly curl towards him, seeking the refuge of his arms. They circle me in a protective barrier. We're very close, nothing in between us. I feel the warmth radiating off his skin and I bury my head in his chest. He pats my back and a few minutes later, I'm back and I stare at him, just studying the planes of his facial bones, how lovely he looks. A hand extends my way and his fingers touch my cheek.
"I'm here. It's okay . . ." His thumb continues to caress along my cheekbone and I enjoy that. He keeps murmuring those words and the swell of panic in my heart is decreasing slowly. Then his eyebrows furrow a little and so do mine. "Are you crying?"
I never noticed the moisture dotting my eyelashes and I rub at it self-conciously. "It's nothing, trust me," I brush off.
Finnick doesn't press, and I'm grateful for that. I'm also grateful how he brings me into his arms even closer, my nose catching a whiff of seawater on his skin. I wrap my arms around his waist and he even kisses my forehead for a moment and I blush a little. I wish very hard that we could just stay in this moment forever, our arms thrown over each other, Finnick the only person shielding me from the nightmares of the Capitol and the warring thoughts of Peeta in danger.
"Thank you," I say.
"For what?"
I cup his cheek and he does the same, our other hands sliding over each other, locked together, long, scarred and calloused fingers grasping the other's for dear life. "For being there." His lips twitch into a small, beautiful smile, making me smile for just a second and we fall back asleep in each other's embrace.
His hand doesn't leave mine all night.
Of course, happiness never, ever lasts forever. As long as the Capitol is still present, anyway.
The night is cold and the outside is dark when I awaken, the chilly air layering on my skin. My body jerks forward, the spasms of yet another nightmare coursing through my veins, hot and thick and overwhelming, just like the fire and sights I had seen. I was being engulfed in flame until it all stopped and I felt dead and lightheaded. Then, the gruesome sights of Peeta being cut open, insides spilling out in a messy, bloody heap, long and silver medical instruments gleaming maliciously in harsh lighting, Snow's serpentine eyes flashing forward, the sounds of my loved ones screaming out my names like the jabberjay cloud that had swarmed me in the Quarter Quell and the stench of roses forced me to nearly scream while my eyes snap open.
I throw the suffocating covers off of me and bundle them up around Prim, who is slightly shivering. I ignore the insistent hisses of Buttercup as I pad down the hallway, creeping down the dark bunker with my hands outstretched to find any obstacles. I stop at the door I have become so familiar with and knock. The door opens immediately and I flinch at the speed of the door. Finnick stands there, blinking and I see the dark circles under his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I croak, eyes now trained on the floor. He ushers me in and we stand there for a moment in complete silence before he breaks it.
"What's the matter?"
"I just can't. Not anymore." The nightmares have tormented me long enough and I need sleep so I'm healthy and refreshed for the propos, but I'm growing desperate. So, so desperate. I look down and see the rope in his hand. I point to it. "Can that seriously keep you sane? How is a line of useless knots going to help?"
Finnick puts it in his pocket and steps closer to me. "Katniss . . ."
"Don't," I tell him, stopping his speech with a hand. "Because if I tie one more knot, I really will lose it." I'm losing control, my body growing numb and I can barely feel myself pacing around the room. Damn, I'm getting paranoid, severe anxiety attacks soon to come, probably. "I just want to get away from all of this. The nightmares, the Capitol, Coin, everything. There's nothing to do. At least I could go out and hunt before, but not now." I groan in a low voice, rubbing my temples. Sometimes, District Thirteen is just as suffocating as the Capitol. "I want to think about nothing. Don't you want to dull the pain, just for a moment?"
"You know I'd give anything for that, but we have to stay strong. For Peeta and for Annie and for Johanna and everyone else."
I press my lips together and nod, eyes still on the ground. "You're right."
"I'm always right. That's what makes me so attractive," he brags in that silly, seductive voice. It automatically fades when he hears me sniffle. It is really more from the cold than pain, or maybe a mixture. "Oh, Katniss." He tentatively reaches his hands out to rub my arms. It's somewhat comforting, but I remain silent.
"I just want to forget, even for a second." This stops his hands and even if I'm not looking at him, I see he's thinking in the utter, contemplative silence we're in.
"There may be something, if I have your consent, of course." One finger traces downward and under my chin, tilting my face to face his. Finnick's wearing a solemn expression, the most serious I've seen him at. There's pity in his eyes and he truly is beautiful. He leans down and kisses me. I'm too startled to respond and all my brain is processing is that he's a good kisser. A few seconds pass and I'm beginning to understand, yet I push him away, against my body's wishes.
I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things.
"Finnick," I say, not in a cruel way, but in an understanding way.
"I know. I don't feel that way about you either. But you need this. We both need this."
I think about it. It would be just one night. One night to forget the pain, just for a sliver of a moment, like we both wanted. Finnick's hand still cups my cheek and I know that this is all up to me. I can shake my head and go back to my room and tie knots. But I'm now restless and I really miss being close to someone. Of course, I have Gale, but he makes things so difficult for me, maybe since I can't see past what I want. He wants much more than what I can give. Finnick, however, isn't expecting anything. He wants what I can give and likes me as I am now. He loves Annie and despite confusion, I do love Peeta.
I look back up at him and slide a hand over the back of the neck, pulling him forward. I close my eyes and slant my lips against his, kissing him, a silent thanks circling between us. I think he's surprised, but he masks it well as he leans in and kisses me back, slower and a little deeper and dirtier than the first. He really is a great kisser. We're miles away from the ocean, yet he tastes like saltwater. He pulls his hand from mine and slips them down to curve around my hips, pulling me closer, fingertips skimming against the rough material. He swipes his tongue against my lower lip, making me moan a little. He slowly lifts me up and we crash down on the bed and he jerks the curtain shut to give us privacy.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks one more time. We look at each other.
"I'm sure," I whisper and he captures my mouth with his.
A/N: Own nothing. Am I the only Finnick/Katniss shipper? Should I extend the love scene? Reviews are much appreciated. -N