37: Hangover

I awake screaming from a nightmare of terrifying scenes I cannot fathom into any kind of persistent running. I bolt up, strands of my hair plastered to my face from a cold sweat and eyes wide and anxious. The shock of the dream is then immediately numbed by a searing pain that shoots from my lower head and neck all the way around my skull. I hiss in agony and fall back onto the pillow, flinching against the light of what must be at least midday. The sun makes the area around my eyebrows ache horribly so I shut them tightly and swallow against my dry throat.

What happened last night? I can't remember a thing, but whatever did happen has made my body punish me bad.

The sound of friction on tiles makes me grimace- even the most subtle sounds are causing my ears to ring. I fling an arm over my eyes and sigh, only to realise that I just had a nightmare. I either don't sleep at all or have a dreamless night because Finnick is there. I only ever have nightmares when he's not. He's not here.

"Annie? Are you awake?" The sound of his voice bounces around my ears, relieving me and piercing the silence. I timidly inch one eye open and see him in the doorway of a room that's definitely not one I recognise. I nod slightly and feel his weight by my side. "You're an idiot, you know that?" he whispers, a smile audible in his voice.

"What?" I mumble, moving around in the covers a bit, ignoring the protests of my aching limbs. Finnick laughs softly and smoothes some hair from my forehead.

"You don't remember?" he chuckles.

"Clearly not," I say slightly irritably, my mood swinging from high to low. I hear him laugh again as I close my eyes. What does he find so funny?! "Go away, Finn," I sigh, swatting my hand in his general direction. I feel it make contact with what I can only guess is his arm, because the muscle is hard and curved against the back of my fingers. He smirks and doesn't move an inch from where he is.

"How bad a hangover do you actually have, Princess Annie?" he laughs.

"I don't have a hangover! I've never drank!" I gasp, sliding my forearm so a triangle of vision is formed. "And don't call me Princess," I add. Finnick snorts and rolls his eyes. He's annoying me, but I love him, so I have to adapt to it.

"Ann, you nearly died of alcohol poisoning and a morphling overdose last night. You insisted you were a Princess and this," he says, gesturing to the room. "Was your castle."

My jaw drops in shock. I don't drink! Or do Morphling! Never! He must be lying, I'm just ill or something.

"Don't lie, Finn," I laugh, dismissing him. "I need some food,"

"I'm not lying!" he insists. "I had my doctor come and check you over last night when you fell asleep, he says you just missed it," he says seriously. I can tell by the look in his eyes, that maybe he's not lying. Maybe I did.

"But, how? What? Why?" I stammer, completely in shock.

"You drank about 2 billion liquor shots, you could've died, Gloss. Respectively," Finnick says.

Gloss? Gloss!? All I remember is talking to him about hating the Capitol! I did drugs and got drunk with Gloss?! A wave of shame washes over me and I go to sit up, only to cry out in pain from my head and fall back down again.

"Finn, I'm sorry!" I gasp. He smiles and shakes his head. I'm still in shock. I have my first ever hangover.

"I'd be a hypocrite if I said nobody should ever do it," he sighs. Finn's done it too. But I'm worse, he has a decent excuse. I close my eyes defeatedly.

"I need food, Finnick," I repeat. He laughs and picks me up and out of the bed.

"If you're going to be like this all day, I'll end up throwing you out the window," he jokes, kissing my head.

"Go ahead, it'll probably make this headache better," I sigh. "Where are we, anyway?" I ask as we enter a huge room with floor to ceiling windows and elegant decor.

"My Capitol apartment, the one I don't ever use," Finnick says, placing me on a futon next to the window and throwing a blanket at me.

"I hope you never become a doctor," I call as he rounds a corner to another room. His laugh echoes around the high ceilinged apartment and I lean my head back on the arm, watching out the vast windows. The sky, although bright, is overcast and I can see rain clouds looming in the distance. Although I can tell we're up high, this is no way one of the Capitol's highest buildings. Huge, neon advertisements blink down on the street and through craning my protesting neck I can see at least 20. One of them is advertising the new Capitol Couture magazine released tomorrow that will undoubtedly have our pictures in it. Finnick returns after a short while with a glass of water and two pills in his hand.

"What're they?" I ask tentatively.

"They're headache pills, gets rid of it," he laughs, handing them to me. "You've got cake, chocolate, pizza and other various junk foods heading your way," he smiles.

"You're the best ever, Finn, thank you!" I smile. He glances out the window and notices the advert for the magazine and his eyes darken as the sparkle switches to fire. He watches as it changes from slide to slide, smirking at the preview of Cashmere's photo and gritting his jaw on the title that introduces me as the "Sweet yet sexy Victor of District 4". When it returns to the starting slide he turns away back to me, where I sit curled in a blanket watching him.

"God," he sighs. I nod vaguely and shuffle over to lean on his shoulder. "It's just funny they believe it all,"

"Not necessarily. It's more forced on them, actions and counteractions," I muse, lost in one of those deep thought tracks.

"Actions and counteractions?" he asks.

"We're threatened and that's the action, so our counteraction is to be what the monster wants us to. Then it's perceived that's who we really are, when actually we're just the Capitol's fool. The public merely believe what's shown to them. If they knew any different they could challenge it, but they don't. It's all they know."

I can feel Finnick's eye's on me as I stare at a random point on the wooden floor, my eyes refusing my brain's commands and focusing as hard as they can.

"You amaze me, Annie Cresta," he says, a smile in his voice. The words pull my focus away from the floor to look up at him.

"It's a talent," I smile. He grins his smile reserved especially for me, the one that nobody else ever sees. I'm suddenly trapped in the green of his eyes, it's like being in a cage you never want to leave. They glimmer in the artificial light of the chandelier hanging low from the ceiling and suddenly, without thinking, I crane my neck up and kiss him. At first he's caught by surprise by the sudden gesture and so am I, but we both easily ease into it. I notice his lips taste faintly of toothpaste. I have to spin my entire body around so my position isn't awkward and end up towering over him. But rather than pushing me away I'm being pulled in. And out of all the things I've been pulled into, this is the one I like the most.

A sudden knock on the door interrupts us from the other side of the room. We pull apart and both look over to the hallway.

"How rude," I huff. Finnick smirks and stands up to answer to the person who undoubtedly has all of my food. On the way he grabs a generous amount of change off of a small table by the door. I can hear him thanking the person then the door click as it closes. When Finnick returns a huge box is in his arms, almost too large for his hands to grip the sides.

"That's huge!" I gasp as he drops it on the large glass table in front of us and moves to the head of the table.

"You never specified how much you wanted so I just got tons," he says, lifting up the lid. I gasp at the contents. An uncountable amount of cakes, pastries, confectionary and Capitol delicacies lay in neat rows. Their bright packaging or perfectly baked outside are screaming for me, and I'm screaming for them too.

"You're going to have to help me with this," I laugh, still shocked by the sheer quantity.

"We'll be here all day demolishing it," he says.

"I don't think that's a problem," I grin, leaning over and taking a large, blue cupcake piled with orange fondant. Finnick sits next to me and while intently watching the box quickly extends his hand and sticks some of the fondant from my cake on my nose, before bursting into laughter at himself.

"The thing that's funny," I grin, wiping the fondant off and getting a new piece to put in his hair. "Is that you find yourself hilarious,"

Finnick is still in fits of giggles and I can't help but laugh myself, taking a bite into the cake and being taken aback by the overly sweet taste of it. I reach out and take a pastry that seems to have chocolate in it and take a bite of that too.

"Have you got enough there?" he laughs.

"No, not really," I smile, finishing the cake and filling my free hand with a large square of chocolate.

As the day passes countless amounts of foods and kisses are worked through and as I swallow the last piece of the muffin that was the only thing remaining I close my eyes contently and sink into the chair.

"Do you want more?" Finnick teases.

"No, I think I'm ok," I giggle, resting my head on his shoulder. Suddenly another sharp rap sounds on the door.

"God, who's that?" Finnick sighs, reluctantly standing and trudging to the door. I hang over the back of the futon so I can see who's knocking and nearly shriek when I see who's standing there.

President Snow.

A/n-

Oh gosh I haven't updated in lightyears I'm so sorry!

This chapter is dedicated to the brilliant Phillip Seymour Hoffman, known to us Tributes better as Plutarch.

Phillip was found dead this morning in his apartment with a needle in his arm, it's said he overdosed on drugs.

He is a legendary actor who will be missed by everybody. My prayers are going out to his wife, children and family.

RIP PSH 3

-G :)