a/n [Modern day AU. This is technically four one-shots with a similar plot. The quote it revolves around is not mine, and I don't whose it is. Uses c/p prompt 'inspire'. For the Iris.]
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Chapter I - A Rainy Day
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You can tell a lot about people by how they handle four things: A rainy day, the elderly, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas lights.
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The last week of autumn started with a rain that carried all the way through without stopping, without relenting, and most certainly without mercy.
On the first day, the light, innocent drip drop dripping of the rain was celebratory. Winter was coming! At last! And a couple, safely hidden indoors, danced in socks on the slippery kitchen floor, rejoicing in the unofficial start of the season. They had music and laughter and the fireplace crackling in the living room. The drenched garden, oozing mud, and puddles would have to wait for another day to shine, because anything outside the reach of the kitchen's light had ceased to exist.
The fifth day was spent sitting on the floor, in thicker socks, wrapped in blankets, and turning the thermostat up and up. The rain still pattered down, it's drip drop dripping less innocent. A balled up sock was thrown at the window in annoyance only to be fetched later by cold toes. Once the sock was placed carefully on, and the toes had wiggled quickly, checking the blood flow, the sock thrower collapsed onto the ground, a hand clutching his heart, groaning in agony.
He was hit by the corner of a blanket, effectively quieting him, and the sock thrower and the blanket hitter stared at each other, eyes wide open, not wanting to be the first to be blink. Naturally he blinked first, and at the moment of defeat, went back to groaning.
"I hate winter," he said, as blatant and unforgiving as the storm.
"Good thing it's not winter, then," she replied, tugging the blankets farther around her before curling up on the ground next to him. The fireplace sparked behind her, and she closed her eyes, encased in warmth. Two years ago she'd been fighting off the cold in a lousy apartment by herself. Now she thanked the stars, because only they could take her from there to here.
"Smartass," he whispered, fingers curling in her hair.
She laughed softly, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Hiding from the storm, from the cold, from anything that he could shield her from. He was her haven.
"We could just pretend it's summer then," she suggested.
"Pretending won't make it warmer." He was as pessimistic as always.
She pressed a chaste kiss under his jaw before sliding away from his embrace and sitting up. Stretching out her arms, she let the blanket fall from her shoulders, ignoring the chill as she stood and searched for a raincoat.
He was still on the floor when she came back to him, tied tightly in her coat and holding out his for him like a prize. His nose scrunched up, and he stayed on the floor, watching her.
"What are you doing?"
"Going outside."
"It's pouring buckets, Ann," he complained, but he was already sitting up, partly from the realization that he couldn't argue his way out of this one and partly because he was tempted by the adventure.
"You don't have to come, " she sang, opening the front door.
Annie already knew he wasn't going to stay put.
The shock of the sudden cold had her rooted in place for a moment, rethinking her idea, but she was nothing if not stubborn. By the time she had gathered the courage to step out the door, he was right behind her, struggling with his coat zipper, an umbrella dangling from his arm.
They didn't ever end up needing it, though.
She was already walking freely up and down the sidewalk, a bounce in her step each time she turned to go the other way. He stayed under the safety of the overhang, just watching her for a bit. When she lifted her arms up and starting spinning, he could hear her laugh through the heavy drip drop dripping of the rain.
"You're such a cliché!" he yelled, his hand tightening around the umbrella.
She glanced at him and smiled. "Come on, Finnick! It's not going to bite you."
Hesitantly, he stepped out into the rain. The cold drops did seem to bite at his hands and face for the first few moments as he tried to hide further into his jacket, but it faded away into something softer. He took another step forward, his rubber boot splashing softly in a puddle, and smiled.
Smaller feet ran up and jumped into a puddle in front of him. Annie looked at him with bright eyes, and he forgot about the storm. Throwing the umbrella back on the porch, he grabbed her hands and pulled her towards him. The drip drop dripping seemed to fade away against Annie's laughter.
"What is it now?"
"I'm cold," she said, burying her face in his coat. "You were right. This was a terrible idea."
By the time the storm had let up, the two were hidden away inside again, the curtains drawn, and towels draped over their shoulders. She sat on the kitchen island, eyes glued to the microwave. He was digging through the cupboards for some cocoa mix. When the water was done heating, Finnick emerged from the back of a shelf with two packets and a bag of marshmallows.
"Told you we had some," Annie said, stirring it in.
Sitting down on the counter with her, Finnick grabbed his mug with both hands, clutching it to his chest. He was freezing, she realized, and it was mostly her fault. Setting her cocoa down, she curled up into his side, careful not to spill his own drink.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Why? Today was wonderful," he said, pressing a kiss to her head.
"So you like winter now, then?"
He smiled. "I thought it wasn't winter yet."
"Smartass." She laughed.
And it felt right, sitting there, together. It felt like they could last through all the winters and storms and hot chocolates. It felt like they'd last forever.