A/N: Hey everyone :) Some of you reading this may be unfamiliar with some of the characters in this, but most of you are here because you begged me to write a few one-shots about Finnick Odair Jr & Azia Mellark and the other characters in my fanfics. Instead of posting them separately, I'll just post this as a story. Really, it's a compilation of one-shots/ drabbles from my OC in I am the Mockingjay & some original HG characters. It won't be in chronological order, but I'll always put a brief summary before I begin writing. If you haven't read Love and War and its sequel I am the Mockingjay, you can go ahead and find them on my profile. Thanks and happy reading :)
Summary: Finnick Odair Jr. and Azia can have a somewhat normal relationship now that the war is over. Although everyone think that they're the perfect couple, one person won't make it easy for him. Yes, it's Peeta. Takes place before my epilogue in I am the Mockingjay.
Finnick Jr.'s POV
It's been easier than I expected to adjust to my new life in District 12. I never admitted it to Azia, but I feel bad for leaving my mother in District 4. She gave me her blessing to move here so I could be with Azia. Still, I tried to convince her to come with me, but she can be very stubborn. I make sure I call her everyday, just to check up on her. She's not always "all there" so it's important that I make sure she's okay.
"Finnick, where are you?" Azia asks. I was so busy thinking, I forgot that she sent me here to get a pitcher of water. Mr. and Mrs. Mellark offered that I live in their basement until I can find a vocation in District 12 and get my own place. Azia is helping me set up my room. If she weren't the chief historian, I bet she could be an interior designer.
I get the ice cold water from the refrigerator, wiping the sweat off my forehead. Then, I hurry back down to the basement because we agreed to get my room up by tonight so I don't have to sleep on the sofa again.
Azia is assembling my bed frame and I put the water down on the table. I can't help but marvel at her beauty. Even though her wavy, blond hair is in a ponytail and she is in comfortable, not fashionable clothes, she looks beautiful. The expression on her face is concentrated and her tongue is sticking out a little like she always does when focusing on something.
"What are you looking at?" she asks.
"You," I grin.
"Okay, lover boy. Unless you want to sleep on the couch again, you better get over here and help me."
"That's not my fault."
Really, it isn't. Mr. Mellark denied me access to the guest bedroom. I think it has to do with being too close to Azia. I walk over to her, but we don't immediately continue the task at hand. Somehow, we end up kissing. Eventually we get back to work and I help her finish up when none other than Mr. Mellark walks in.
"Dad, where did you come from? Where you there the entire time?" Azia blushes.
"No kissing in my house, you know better," he looks at the both of us with a dead serious look on his face.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Mellark."
"Azia, why don't you go take a shower and head over to the bakery. Salama has got her hands full over there today. I'll stop by later," he tells her, but it's more like an order than a suggestion. In a way, we are treated like kids around here, even though Azia is almost 19 and I'm 22. But it's only because her parents care and I'm glad that they do.
"I'll see you later, Finnick," Azia gives me a quick hug. "Mom said not to kill him," she tells Mr. Mellark.
"We'll see, please close the door behind you, honey," he answers. Suddenly, I realize the predicament I'm in. Mr. Mellark is a victor and the basement is full of tools that he could murder me with. No one would even know if he killed me because only Azia is home and she's upstairs.
"She's very handy with tools. I don't know where she gets it from." He seems impressed with the bed frame.
"Probably from Mrs. Mellark," I respond.
"You have a point," nice Mr. Mellark is slowly fading, "I ordered the mattress for you, it should arrive today."
"Thank you, sir."
He steps closer to me and says, "I made sure it only fits one." His glare meets mine and I instantly look down. I know what he means and I'm embarrassed. I don't plan on sleeping with Azia until we're married, but my cheeks heat up at his statement. He must notice my uneasiness and pours more water into my glass. "Take a seat, Odair Jr."
When Peeta Mellark, a victor and father of the girl you intend to marry, tells you to do something, you do it. Unless you want a hundred pound bag of flour flung at you, you don't protest. It's a good thing there's no flour down here. I have a feeling this conversation will be very one-sided.
"I hope the sofa hasn't been too uncomfortable for you, has it?" he asks me.
"No, sir. It's been fine. I'm glad to finally get my own room again, though," I honestly admit.
"That's good. Better for me though," I gulp, unsure of his meaning behind those words, "You won't be as close to her." I let out a sigh of relief. "Listen, Odair Jr, Azia is my eldest daughter and if you don't treat her right, then you'll have to deal with me. This is my house, you are simply a guest until you can make it out there on your own. Understand?" I nod. "Good, then let's go over a few house rules." I'm 23, do I really need house rules? I have to remind myself that this is Mr. Mellark I'm talking to. "Now, you know that Azia has a curfew. If she goes out, I expect her to be home no later than midnight."
He goes on to list the other rules such as limited physical contact and the number of words I'm allowed to speak while staying in the house. If it weren't for the look on his face, I'd think he's joking. Finally, after what seems like forever, Mrs. Mellark opens the door.
"Peeta," she gasps. Her eyes fall to the crowbar laying next to his feet.
"I wasn't going to kill him, don't worry. We were just having a man talk," his face softens when he looks at her. I can't help but hope for Azia and I to be like them. They're great friends and lovers. Anyone can tell by just looking at them and in the time I've known them, I seen it to be true.
"I apologize for my husband's rashness, but I assure you Finnick, Peeta won't hurt you."
The atmosphere is getting very awkward in the room. "I have to head over to the bakery," Mr. Mellark tells us.
"Oh, good. It's busy over there. Now I can talk to Finnick." If she said that a minute ago, I would have been relieved, but Katniss is worse than Peeta. I've seen the videos of her from the Hunger Games and Quarter Quell. Her gray eyes are just like Azia's, but there is no emotion behind hers now. I tap my foot nervously and she looks at me like a predator. I must be the weak prey and I know for sure that I'm a dead man.
