"Where is this place anyway?" Peeta asked as he took another drag of his cigarette and looked at Finnick expectantly as they huffed down the empty street.
Finnick slowed down to tap Peeta on the shoulder, signaling his attention and taking the cigarette out of his fingers. "It's still a couple of blocks away." He took a drag of Peeta's cigarette and continued walking. "Are you cold?" he asked, taking one more draw before handing it back.
Peeta nodded, "I should have brought my coat," he replied with the cigarette dangling from his lips as he rubbed his left hand up and down his right arm, "It doesn't matter, we're almost there."
The older man stopped walking again to remove his black leather jacket.
"I'm fine," Peeta replied as he tried to force his teeth from chattering.
Finnick smirked, "I'll trade you for the rest of your cigarette."
"Thanks." He accepted the jacket and handed what little was left of the smoldering cigarette, finding the warmth the jacket provided immensely satisfying, a relief from the cold weather.
His hand gently rested on the small of Peeta's back, pushing him forward as they continued to walk before retreating to his pockets, his other hand held the cigarette in two fingers.
"I hope you're not too cold," Peeta said with a smile as he mentally noted the jacket was a size or two too big for him.
"Nah," he replied, "I'm the one dragging you out with me, it's the least I could do right?"
It wasn't until he pulled the jacket closed around his torso that he smelt Finnick all over him, his scent filled the jacket and Peeta's nostrils. The smile on Peeta's face grew a little, he opted to stare down at the sidewalk as they walked so as to avoid being caught.
"So why are we going to this place?" he asked, looking over to Finnick and noticing the way his hair hung in his face.
"I need a drink and I'm not going to sit in a strip club having to make small talk with chicks all night to do it," he replied as they picked up the pace a little, "This place is quiet, we can hang, just us two."
"Sounds good," Peeta replied, pulling the jacket closed around him.
The two men walked in silence for the next block. It had become unusual for the two of them to let their conversations dwindle, even when they spent a lot of time together there was always something to talk about, to laugh about. Finnick had become very fond of the younger man's sense of humor.
"You alright tonight?" The older man asked, "You've been kind of quiet. Anything on your mind?"
Peeta was hesitant to answer at first, afraid that if he opened his mouth to speak, the truth would fall out and he would be left to pick up the pieces after the irreparable damage had already been done. He needed to take a moment to censor what he wanted to speak about, to carefully construct his words in a way that wouldn't reveal that he not only spied on the man having casual sex, but had masturbated over it many times in the past week. He was terrified to really ask himself if he enjoyed watching the act itself, or if it was merely the fact that he was watching Finnick perform it. That kind of question had no place in the back of his mind and he pushed it out whenever it would surface on the forefront of his thoughts. He would not answer it. All he knew was he enjoyed watching what he did, but it had left him feeling confused and a little hurt, like a small innocent child experiencing something that would give them a glimpse of the real world.
He was enjoying the time he was spending with Finnick. In truth, some nights he didn't want them to end which was why he eagerly accepted another one of Finnick's offers to join him for a very late night drink after a long and arduous shift which involved a lot of dancing on a pole for the pleasure of others. He didn't want the questions he wanted to ask ruin what was quickly developing into a lasting friendship, on the other hand, those questions were eating away at him, he knew he couldn't be himself around Finnick without receiving some answers, even if they weren't his questions to ask, nor the answers he wasn't entitled to.
"Okay, I'm going to ask you something," Peeta said hesitantly, "But I won't blame you if you tell me to shut the fuck up, alright?"
Finnick chuckled, "Let's hear it."
"Are you a hooker?" the younger man asked, bringing them both to a stop on the sidewalk.
Finnick took the last drag of the cigarette and inhaled, looking deep in thought for a moment before exhaling a large cloud of blue smoke into the cold wind, "I prefer the term hustler, but yeah."
"Are you serious?" he asked, unsure why he was suddenly surprised by the answer.
The man looked at him dumbly, "Am I that obvious?" he flicked the cigarette butt away as he continued walking with his head down and hands in his pockets. "Did one of the chicks in the club tell you?"
Peeta quickly moved with him, noticing the way they picked up the pace, "Yeah," he lied, terrified to reveal the truth, unsure how revealing that he was spying would go down. "I'm sorry, Finnick. I shouldn't have brought it up."
"It's okay," Finnick sighed, "I understand if you don't want to hang out with me anymore."
"Wait," Peeta said, stopping the taller man as they walked by taking hold of his shoulder. "Why would I want that?"
He shrugged, still looking at the ground, "Most people who find out think it's kind of gross, it's why I don't have any friends," he said with a pathetic laugh, "Either that or they judge me, misinterpret what I want or how I feel because of what I do."
Peeta had caught his first glimpse at his friend's vulnerable side, something that made him very upset, very quickly. He never wanted to see the man hurt like that again, especially if he was the cause. He shoved Finnick's shoulder in a good natured sign of affection. "Yeah but then I'd lose my good pot connection."
Finnick chuckled before crossing his arms over his chest. "No shit? That gives me an idea."
Peeta smiled to himself as he watched Finnick roll them a joint. He stood from his place in the large lounge chair and wondered around the spacious living room of Finnick's extravagant apartment. He was one floor below the penthouse with an amazing view from the terrace. Peeta was rather fond of the view from 12 stories high.
Upon his first visit, he had been completely baffled as to how Finnick could afford such a lavish apartment but now it made sense. There was a certain amount of respect he had for the older man, and despite how much he hated himself for thinking it, there was a little bit of judgment.
He looked out the two large windows that led to the terrace. It was still mostly night, but Peeta could just make out the start of the sun rising over the city skyline.
"You can ask about it, y'know," Finnick said from his place on the floor with his back resting on the couch. He took the first steady toke from the freshly rolled joint.
Peeta was quiet for a moment as he mentally decided which of the several questions circulating through his mind he wanted to ask first. "Why do you do it?"
Finnick held the smoke in for a few seconds before slowly exhaling a steady cloud of thick smoke. "Money."
The younger man scoffed, "You work at the club four nights a week, you make plenty of money. Why do you really do it?"
"That is why I really do it, Peeta," he replied as he sat up and passed the joint to him, "I'm no fool, I know that I'm not going to be able to do this forever, strip or fuck around. It's why I want to make sure I'm set for life now."
He accepted the joint. "And how are you going to set yourself for life?"
"Investments." Finnick rose from his place on the floor and made his way over to the large double doors and pulled them open allowing the cold morning breeze to fill the apartment. "This apartment, a couple of smaller buildings down town."
Peeta took a long draw of the joint and inhaled deep into his lungs before exhaling. "And money is the only reason you do it? You don't like the sex?"
Finnick shook his head, "Depends on the person," he said with a shrug, "But sometimes not even that's enough."
"Why's that?"
"Because there's plenty of passion, but no feelings. There's no love."
His words struck a chord with Peeta who took another hit of the joint as he tried to remember when the last time he and Katniss said they loved eachother.
"Have you ever been in love?" Peeta asked.
Finnick chuckled and resumed his place on the floor, "C'mon man, don't get all heavy on me now," he laughed, reaching forward to take back the joint which was handed to him.
"What?" Peeta asked defensively, "You said to ask."
He nodded, "A couple of times. But I always managed to fuck it up."
"How'd you do that?"
Finnick looked at him plainly, "Like I said earlier, people can't accept a certain aspect of my life. I don't really blame them, I'm not sure I would accept me either."
"Can I tell you something I will only say now because I'm stoned?" Peeta asked.
He smiled and chuckled to himself, "Yeah."
"You shouldn't be so harsh on yourself," the younger man sighed, "I'm glad we're friends."
"Me too, Peeta."
They sat in silence for the next few moments, Finnick stared at the ceiling while Peeta stared out at the terrace again. Neither man would openly admit it, but this was the most enjoyable time they had spent together. It was just the two of them sharing a joint in Finnick's apartment at 4am on a Sunday morning. It was a time that Peeta didn't want to end, he found himself growing more comfortable, not only being in the presence of the man, inside of his apartment, but being his confidant, listening to his stories and experiences and being able to share in parts of his life that were private from others. It made him want to reciprocate.
"I don't think Katniss even loves me anymore," Peeta sighed glumly, folding his hands in his lap, unable to find any sort of escape or comfort in the marijuana that was proffered to him by the other man. He took a few weak drags before continuing. "She gets pissed off at me really easily, no matter what I do. She's not happy."
"Why isn't she happy?" Finnick asked, his brow furrowed.
Peeta scoffed, "She hates what I do, we never spend any time together and when we do we're always fighting… She hates that I use, she hates that I drink, she doesn't laugh at my jokes. Not only does she dislike me, she doesn't get me."
"Do you love her?" the older man asked, almost slurring his words slowly.
Peeta observed him and wondered what caused the tonal shift in his voice? Was it that the question hurt to ask? Or was it simply the strong drug that was going to his head too?
"I'm not really sure," he replied after a beat, "I keep trying to work out my feelings, but I'm drawing a blank."
Finnick looked at him with a half smile, "If you broke up with her, I could be your wingman," he held out his hands defensively, "Just sayin'"
This made Peeta smile, but not happy. The older man rose from his spot on the floor to the spot on the couch next to him, watching as he inhaled and held it in before slowly releasing.
"You know you can't get stoned to make your problems go away, Peeta," he said as he casually knocked his shoulder into his, "They're still going to be there when you've sobered up."
He leaned forward and set the joint down in the ashtray on the coffee table before turning to look at his friend. The hits he had taken so far had made his inhibitions drop while giving him a little more clarity, unfortunately not all of his problems could be cleared up as easily.
"How many chicks have you slept with?" Peeta asked with a cocky grin, mentally noting the way their knees touched.
"That I will not be revealing tonight," Finnick said with a laugh. "Or today, whatever. I've shared enough for one night."
The younger man chuckled before sitting back in the comfortable lounge, purposely keeping his knee pressed against Finnick's. He yawned deeply.
"You're welcome to crash," Finnick said as he stood up, "Help yourself to anything."
Peeta nodded and held his arm out, "Give me a hand man."
"You're stoned," he sniggered as he grabbed hold of his friends hand and pulled him up, "You're lazy too."
Before Finnick had a chance to finish laughing at his own insult, Peeta was on his feet, taking a step forward and placing a kiss on his lips. Even a quick peck on the lips caused his head to start spinning as the younger man stood still, staring straight in front of him at the taller man's quivering throat which was as high as his eye line reached. Neither man reacted or spoke for the next passing moments which seemed to last a lifetime.
Peeta sighed, realizing his colossal fuck up, "Sorry-"
Finnick curled a hand in his blonde locks, looked down and kissed him back, only this time the kiss was different. Both men opened their mouths, Finnick captured Peeta's lips with his own, taking his bottom lip between both of his.
The fact that he was deliberately kissing him made Peeta's heart beat faster while at the same time it left him feeling incredibly aroused. Suddenly everything felt exactly the way it was supposed to, especially as Finnick's other hand grabbed his shirt and roughly pulled him in closer. It seemed as if this whole time something had been missing and now everything felt right.
Finnick tasted like pot and beer, a perfect combination and not at all sweet, exactly what he wanted.
It was only the need for air that broke the kiss, leaving both men panting as deep blue eyes stared into green.
"I'm going to go to bed," Finnick said.
Peeta's heart raced faster than when he was on stage for the first time. He stared at the man, completely dumbfounded. "Okay? Goodnight?"
"Night, Peeta," he replied slowly as he turned for the hallway.
Peeta took a seat on the couch. It wasn't until he heard Finnick's door close that he commanded his lungs to fill with oxygen. He had allowed his inhibitions to fall and now he knew he would suffer the consequences of his stupid recklessness. What if he lost Finnick as a friend because of this? What if things became too awkward for either of them to muster the courage to face each other again? The thought made him sick to his stomach, it was truly terrifying to him.
It took him a full minute of worry before he stopped to consider Katniss and the fact that he had fucked it all up again. His delayed reaction only made him hate himself even more.
He rose from his spot to pull the double doors to the balcony shut, before finding himself too tired to do anything besides fall on the couch and hope that he would soon pass out, which he did 10 minutes later.
It wasn't until midday that Finnick's eyes opened. His thoughts immediately turned to Peeta, his friend who had kissed him, and in a moment of weakness and curiosity, he had kissed back. He hated that his mind couldn't even afford him a minute of peace.
He reached for a dislodged pair of sweatpants by the bed and tugged them on over his underwear. Swinging his legs off the bed slowly, he rose and was surprised to feel fine with no symptoms of a hangover despite how trashed he had been not eight hours earlier. He placed his hand on the doorknob, before freezing in his tracks. He found himself intimidated to face the younger man who would no doubt wish to have a conversation regarding the events that had transpired.
That was when Finnick took a moment to remember how it felt, how he felt. Aroused, ecstatic, breathless. He knew there was something special about Peeta, he had always been sure of it, it wasn't until they kissed that he realized how much he cared for his friend and how important he was to him. Was their new found friendship worth jeopardizing over this? If not, was it worth jeopardizing for the chance of a working relationship, something which Finnick knew he would destroy? Surely he couldn't derail his job for the sake of a relationship.
There were too many questions that needed answers. The more they looped in his mind, the more he could feel his headache setting in.
Finnick pulled the door open and made his way down the hallway and into the lounge room, where he found Peeta putting his shoes on.
"Hey," he said with a nervous cough.
Peeta smiled at him, "Morning. Hey, thanks for letting me crash."
"N-no problem," he replied, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. "You're leaving?"
"Yeah." He stood up and straightened himself out. "I've got a lot to do today."
Finnick nodded, "Let me drive you home."
"It's okay," he shrugged, his chipper smile still in place. "I can walk, it's not that far. Thanks again, Finnick."
There was something in the man's demeanor that Finnick didn't like. Peeta was never one to leave when he was enjoying himself. He found it very odd that the younger man wouldn't at least suggest getting lunch. Things were already weird, he didn't like it. He didn't want a stupid kiss to take away his only friend.
"Peeta," Finnick sighed, "We should talk about what happened last night."
He stopped and turned, "What are you talking about?"
Finnick rolled his eyes, "This is already weird, don't make it weirder. You know what I'm talking about."
Peeta gaped, "I really have no idea, man. Did I do something stupid last night? It's pretty hazy."
The older man shook his head and hid his observation with a chuckle. "No, you didn't do anything. I just took a leak on a cop car, I didn't want you to think I'm a complete idiot when I'm drunk is all."
Peeta laughed, "I don't even remember that, but I'm sure I've done worse."
He nodded and smiled, finding himself somewhat relieved. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Count on it," Peeta replied, "Thanks again." He pulled the door open and shut it behind him.
Finnick stared at the door for a full minute as he wondered what exactly Peeta remembered and what he blocked out. Now he wasn't sure if he was happy or hurt that Peeta had forgotten something that he, himself knew he never would.
Peeta pulled the door to Finnick's apartment door before moving immediately for the elevator. He impatiently waited for it to open as he tapped his foot and muttered under his breath. It wasn't until he got on that he angrily kicked the door.
"Fuck-fuck-fuck!" he grumbled, scratching his head in frustration. "You fucking idiot!"
He closed his eyes and pressed his back against the wall, his thoughts still on Finnick and the kiss he pretended to forget.