A/N: I don't know guys. I don't know.

The Baker and the Whore

Scene: Begins in Catching Fire when they enter the arena

"I watch my yellow cat
invade my red cat in the yard.
The feline war has raged for years
so I assume it'd be too hard
for me to drive my foot between them.
I would never risk the scratch
just to prove to one or both of them
a cat is just a cat."

-Say Anything

Fuck me.

Excuse my language, but fuck me.

Whoever came up with this arena was a jackass, and that's all there is to it- water everywhere, and maybe five tributes who can actually swim. I'm somehow not surprised when one of them is Katniss. She strikes out for the Cornucopia like it's nothing, lands on the beach and I'm thinking, "Hey, maybe everyone else will just drown, I can off myself, and then Katniss can win. Mission accomplished."

But then there's Finnick fucking Odair, gliding through the water like a Greek god, and- great- now he's on the beach with Katniss and he's soaking wet and glistening like a fucking glazed donut fresh out the oven. There's barely any time for the awkward, poorly masked sexual tension that is everpresent around Finnick before Katniss is on the ground and Finnick is spearing the drunk guy from 5 with his trident. I should probably be helping somehow, but I wasn't a very good swimmer even before I lost my leg.

Next comes Enobaria, followed by Gloss, followed by Brutus andCashmere. It's turning into a shitstorm of epic proportions, and I'm still stranded on my little metal plate. Classic Peeta.

While I'm sulking, Katniss finally finds me and starts running. I really don't see how she plans on hauling my bulk to shore, but it should be interesting.

Well, no, I guess it won't- because here comes Finnick fucking Odair. He pats Katniss's stomach- which is weird until I remember that I faked her pregnancy. Then he dives into the water in a way that causes the sun to glint off of every single muscle on his body during the split second he is suspended in the air.

I'm so disgusted that I don't even bother to watch his progress as he swims towards me.

Within minutes, the bastard has dragged me into the water and has me pinned against him as he swims back to Katniss and the beach.

"Hello, little baker," he purrs, and I do my best not to react. Finnick loves making people uncomfortable. I'll be damned if I give in.

Apparently, he finds my strategy of ignoring him amusing because he chuckles at my stony silence. "What? No thanks for your handsome rescuer, my fair maiden?"

Pride be damned. "Fuck off, Odair." I try not to cough when I get a mouthful of saltwater.

He snorts, his breath hot in my ear, and says, "You seem so much nicer on television."

It's irritating how there's not even a hint of exertion in his voice, and how he doesn't seem to be inhaling nearly as much sea water as I am.

We hit sand and there's Katniss, pulling me up onto the beach. She's safe. I'm safe. We're okay. I kiss her because I really was worried the Gamemakers would off her within the first few second of entering the arena. When I pull away, Finnick is still crouched uncomfortably close to me. He has an innocent look plastered on his face, but there's no hiding the amusement in his green eyes.

I consider telling him to fuck off again, just because it really did make me feel better for a few seconds, then I remember Katniss and even though I'm sure she's heard worse, I don't feel right swearing around her. It's like Finnick can hear my internal monologue, because now he's grinning like an idiot.

When I try to stand up for Katniss, saying she wanted Mags from the first day of training, Finnick somehow manages to turn the phrase, "Katniss has remarkably good judgement," into an innuendo directed at me.

I swear I could kill Haymitch for giving Finnick that fucking bracelet and the rights to our cooperation. Goddamn drunk sonofa-

"Lead the way, baker boy," Finnick's voice cuts through my mental ripping on Haymitch, and I scowl but pull out the knife Katniss gave me and start hacking through the jungle. I imagine the vines having faces, alternating between Finnick, Haymitch, Snow, and Gale. It's oddly satisfying.

I think I don't have to worry about more of Finnick's fucking creepiness because he's carrying Mags. I'm wrong. When Katniss makes a quick detour to check for water, there's Finnick in my ear-

"Not a bad view from back here, dough boy."

Blood rushes to my face and everything gets intensely hot, but before I can react Katniss is back and I have to stamp down my frustration and hack away at the Finnick-vines with renewed pent-up rage.

We stop a bit after that and Katniss scurries up a tree to see the damage back at the Cornucopia. As soon as she's out of sight, Finnick is advancing on me like a fucking lion in heat. I sort of flail and panic, looking around for Mags. As if that will help- she's sitting by a tree, tying bows with long grass from the jungle floor and ignoring the whole mess in front of her. Finnick is close, and my panic turns into anger. Instead of shrinking away and avoiding him, I pull myself up to my full height, clench my jaw, and tense my muscles up as much as I can, trying to decide if I have enough power in me to actually knock him out.

He's so damn close, standing a few inches taller than me, using his broad shoulders to block any escape I might attempt. As if I'd try. I glare into his green eyes with all the venom I can manage from a life spent living with my bitch of a mother.

His mouth is inches from mine, the puff of his breath on my face barely distinguishable from the wet tropical breeze blowing through the jungle. I grit my teeth, and it makes an audible grating sound. Suddenly, he's laughing, hard. He collapses against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder. If my muscles tense anymore I might literally explode.

Between the hot gasps of laughter on my neck, he manages- "You're a brave little toaster. I think I quite like you."

The sound of Katniss descending the tree pulls him away, and by the time she's back on the ground Finnick is standing a few feet away from me, trident held loosely in front of his body.

"What's going on down there, Katniss?"

They have a tense exchange, but I'm having trouble focusing. I can still smell the salt-water breath on my skin and it's making me uncomfortable.

He's teasing her about being hopeful, about thinking things would be different. I scowl, forcing myself to pay attention.

"No one in this arena was a victor by chance," Finnick says calmly, eyes locked on Katniss. There's an uncomfortable pause during which both his and Katniss's eyes find and lock on me, and I just sort of blink at them, unsure of what the hell they're talking about. "Except maybe Peeta," he adds, and I know Katniss doesn't heart that weird, flirtatious undertone in his voice.

I wonder what she makes of what he said. Whatever he meant, she apparently agrees with him.

I'm still just confused as fuck, so I scowl some more and cross my arms over my chest, ignoring the painfully tense silence that follows during which Katniss and Finnick seem to be deciding whether or not to kill each other.

Like him or not, he'll keep her alive.

I put myself between the two, pointedly facing away from Finnick.

"How many are dead?" I ask Katniss in order to break the awkward and possibly deadly silence, trying and failing to ignore the feeling of Finnick's triumphant gaze burning through the back of my skull.

These Games can't end fast enough.