Title taken from the song "Just Give Me A Reason" by PINK ft. Nate Ruess (F.U.N). I'm sorry that it took me about a month to get this update posted. A lot has happened in the last three weeks. My beta and I have worked out a new structure for the story. Chapter 4 and 5 are half done but be completed and posted until somewhere in December. A huge thank you to jeniezee for the fantastic beta work, as usual, and to sabaceanbabe for posting the song! Her taste in music is impeccable!

1 year ago

The sun is blaring down on top of him, bronzing his cold, pasty skin. The white sand burns beneath his feet. He can feel every muscle in his body relax as each individual toe curls into the heat.

Looking out into the ocean, the water is as clear blue as a fresh water swimming pool.

"It's good to be home," he hears himself say. He can feel his skin begin to cool as a series of large, thick, gray clouds block the rays from the sun. The rumble of thunder reaches his ears before his sister's high pitched voice.

"Finnick, come inside before the water rises."

Suddenly, the beach sand transforms and as he tries to uncurl his toes, he finds himself sinking further into it.

The thunder rumbles louder as he catches the first flash of lightening in his peripheral.

"C'mon Finnick!" it is his mother's voice, now, screeches at him from their back porch. He is still frozen in place.

The ebb and flow of the tide quickens as another bolt of lightning strikes in the darkening sky.

With every shift of his leg, he finds himself a little bit deeper into the sand.

The initial waves of the ocean lap at his calves.

"FINNICK!" she cries louder.

He sinks deeper.

The water is up to his knees.

"FINNICK!" It is Gale's voice now.

Water is up to his mid-thigh when it takes a sudden dip, only to be replaced by a menacing wave that consumes him.

"DADDY!"

Finnick wakes up with a start. The room is dark, save for the tiny night light that casts intricate shadows on the walls around the room and digital clock projecting '2:08' on the ceiling. He could not focus on any of them as sunspots and remnants of the tidal wave block his vision.

"Daddy!" Noah's tiny, weak voice calls again, tugging on his father's hand. Looking down at his son, Finnick finds himself reassured by the boy. He is not back in Miami, on a beach of quicksand. There is no Penny, Gale or his mother, just him and Noah in their tiny shared room in Johanna's townhouse.

But the afterglow of discovered reality fades quickly as Finnick takes in Noah's appearance. Ashen, sweating and trembling, Finnick touches his lips to his son's forehead – like his mother used to do to him– and Noah's skin is as hot as the sand.

"Buddy, you've got a fever," Finnick says, pulling back the covers of his own twin sized bed, he goes to pick up Noah but the five year old squirms away.

"My tummy hurts and it feels like there is something stuck in my throat," tears start to form in his tiny, green eyes.

"It's okay; let's go to the washroom okay? Breath through your nose," Finnick guides the boy out the door and down the hall to the bathroom, where, it did not take long for the contents in Noah's stomach to rise up and out right into the toilet bowl.

Tears spill down Noah's pallid face as he sits back onto the cool tile. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"What for, kiddo?"

"For being sick," he sniffles.

Finnick runs a hand through his disheveled hair with a smile, "Noah, I'm your Dad. It's my job to take care of you, especially when you're sick." A smile quirks at the corners of the boy's mouth before another wave of nausea sends his head into the toilet again.

While Finnick rubs gentle circles into Noah's back, the door pushes open lightly as a frightening looking Johanna comes in. Running a hand through her short, skewed hair, Johanna's tired eyes look down at them as she wrinkles her nose.

"No matter how many times I've had to clean it up, I'm still not used to that shit."

"Jo, watch your language," Finnick scolds, as he flushes the toilet and ushers Noah to wash his hands.

"What? I say shit all the time! Don't I, Noah?" Johanna smiles teasingly down at the pasty boy, who nods his head slightly.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Finnick sighs as he guides Noah out of the washroom and onto the couch of their small living room. Going back to bed to lie down, is something Finnick knows will not benefit either himself or Noah. It will only lead to an uncomfortably build of nausea in the boy's stomach and there is no guarantee Noah will make it to the washroom in time. The smell of vomit would linger in their room for days.

Grabbing a large, metal bowl from the kitchen, Finnick places it between his boy's hands before kissing his forehead. Falling onto the sofa beside him, he turns on the television to a station littered with boring cartoons to help distract Noah from his stomach.

The green numbers on the Roger's digital box blare out '2:46'. As he internally groans, reminding himself he has to be at work for nine he realizing that he still has all of his sick days. A smile presses itself on his face as the joy of small miracles relaxes his rigid body.

"So, the little monster's sick, huh?" Johanna comes up and sits on the arm rest of the sofa. The hair on the nape of her neck dripping tiny droplets of water, from her morning shower, onto Finnick's exposed arm.

Finnick looks up at her with heavy eyelids while trying his best not to roll his eyes, "No, he threw up because he wanted to."

"Snippy aren't we?"

"I've been up all morning with him, Johanna; I'm not really in the mood for your bullshit."

"Now who's using the inappropriate language," Johanna bites back.

"He's asleep," Finnick says, nodding over at Noah before turning off the television. The time on the digital box reading '7:32'. "About time."

Peeling himself from the leather exterior, Finnick scoops his sleeping five year old into his arms and carries him to his room. Removing the boy from sweat and vomit soaked pajamas he then slips him into a fresh pair. Tucking him under two thin blankets, Finnick leaves the washed metal bowl by Noah's bedside before leaving the room once more.

"Calling in sick?" Johanna asks from her spot at the kitchen table.

"Yeah."

"Good. I didn't wanna get stuck on puke duty and get sick from all the flying chunks."

"It doesn't work that way," Finnick says as he scrolls through his IPhone looking for his office's number. "Regardless, he's fine. Just needs to rest."

"Whatever you say," Johanna threw her hands up in defense. Finnick shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

The phone rings and rings before finally being picked up his boss' chirpy assistant who appears to paint her nails more often than doing actual work.

"Good Morning, Octavia, my love, how are you?" Finnick purrs.

Johanna snorts.

"Good Morning, Finnick. I am fantastic! How are you?"

"I'm alright. Unfortunately, Noah's not doing so well today. He's got a stomach bug," Finnick means only to verbalize his pout, though he unintentionally produces one too.

Johanna begins to howl in laughter and hold her sides together as they split. Finnick throws a look of alarm her way, gesturing over to Noah's room. Johanna shoves her fist into her mouth to repress her lurches of laughter.

"Oh no," Octavia screeches, "That's terrible. I hope he feels better soon! Poor little guy. "

"I'm sure he will be alright, he's asleep now," Finnick says, warmly. "I've been up all morning with him. But I'd like to keep an eye on him the rest of the day. Can you let Seneca know I won't be coming in today?" Finnick hums and he can hear her squeak on the other end as that signature blush of hers is quickly tinting her cheeks.

"Of course, Finnick, darling. Anything for you," she giggles before the sound of those Botox injected lips of hers smack in a kiss as she hangs up.

Placing his IPhone on the table, Finnick turns to a purple faced Johanna who looks like she is about to pee herself. Despite the fact that this is a frequent occurrence with Finnick, he can feel the shame build up inside him.

"You flirt with your boss' assistant? Really? I'm shocked you're not fired yet."

"His level of discomfort does not outweigh his feelings on my fantastic performance," Finnick says, not thinking twice about his word choice.

"And you're sleeping with your boss! You're priceless. You should be awarded Father-of-the-Year."

"Fuck, I'm no-"

"Daddy said a bad word," Noah's tiny voice trickles through the silence, his green eyes dancing in delight but shrouded in extreme fatigue.

"What'cha doing outta bed, buddy?"Finnick scoops the boy into his arms again.

"Auntie Jo's laughing woke me up. Then I had to use the washroom," Noah says. Finnick shoots her a dirty look. "But it's okay. I get to spend the day with Daddy!" he wraps his arms around his father's neck and squeezes tightly.

The loud buzzing of Finnick's vibrating phone draws his attention away from his son. Checking caller ID, Johanna sees it is from work and picks up the phone.

"Hello, Finnick Odair's phone. I'm sorry he's not available right now. Can I take a message?" Johanna uses a flawless secretary voice Finnick has never heard her use before in all the years they have known each other. Finnick can feel the pit of his stomach stir like it once did, back when he was sixteen and she, nineteen. Back when he loved her like a woman.

"No!" her sharp voice interrupts his thoughts. "He won't be coming in today, you cock sucking whore." Finnick covers Noah's ears instantly. "His son, you know the thing that two people who 'love each other very much' make, is sick. His flesh and blood takes priority over that stupid, fucking ass job he has to do to put food on the fucki-"

Johanna pauses, her breathing short as she listens impatiently.

"I don't give a shit if he has a fucking important meeting today! Noah. Is. Sick. He's taking the day off!" she hangs up and throws the phone across the room at the opposite wall where it smashes and breaks. The chair topples onto the floor as Johanna vehemently gets up and storms out making her way into her bedroom and slamming the door.

Uncovering Noah's ears, he puts the boy down on the ground with a sigh, "Guess Daddy has to go into work after all. Sorry. I'll try to get home early so we can have dinner together, okay?"

Noah wraps his arms around his father's waist and holds tight, "Okay."

"Be good for Auntie Jo. If you need something, have her call me at work." Finnick leans down and kisses the top of his head. "You should go back to bed, though. I'll say goodbye before I leave, okay?"

"Okay," Noah nods, turning onto his heel and heading back to his room. Running a hand through his grease soaked hair; Finnick does not need to hear Noah say it in order for him to know he has disappointed his son. However, he's filled with pride knowing that Noah is developing his level of patience and flexibility. One more part of their son Cashmere cannot claim as her own.

After his quick shower, Finnick pads into his room to find Noah curled up in his bed amongst the white bed sheets. Leaning over, he tucks Noah's dark, matted, wavy hair behind his ear before kissing the sleeping child on the forehead. Slipping on a white shirt and blue tie Finnick grabs his suit case and leaves the room.

Johanna's bedroom door is still shut as he walks by it. Resisting the urge to knock, Finnick leaves a note on the fridge instead with a specific set of instructions. He makes sure to sign a heart at the end of his name, in an effort to soften her mood.

It is eight-thirty seven in the morning and he has at least six hours left of his day. With a sigh, Finnick walks out the front door with heavy steps.

The last time Finnick remembers being this anxious is when he and Gale were waiting for their final scores at the FINA Diving World Cup years ago. Back then, all he had to calm himself were his hands wringing circles around each other. Now, he knots a short strand of rope he keeps in his desk drawer.

His eyes flicker around his cubicle at the pictures of Noah with Johanna and the Mellarks pinned to the plush walls. Bouncing on his office while knotting and unknotting his rope, Finnick cannot help but sigh once his eyes fall onto the time on his phone. Two-twelve in the afternoon. He specifically asked Johanna to call him after one, whether or not she encounters a problem.

She has not done so yet.

Finnick could feel his fingers burn from the friction of the rope against his soft skin. The tiny analog clock on his desk ticking loudly as afternoon gossip filters through the room. The monotony of the day only exacerbates his anxiety.

What if Noah got worse?

He makes another knot.

What if it is too much for her to handle?

And another.

It's not her responsibility. I should've stayed home.

And another.

"Maybe I should just call her," he sighs, wrapping the rope around his fingers. Sitting back in his chair, he picks up the receiver and dials home first. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. Hanging up, he tries her cellphone next. However, the results are the same.

"Where is she?!" Finnick seethes under his breath as whips the rope at his computer monitor, causing it to wake up. He feels his anger slip away as Noah's face smiles back at him from his desktop.

"Where is who?"A voice cut through his thoughts causing him to jump. Looking over the top of his computer, his co-worker, Venia, is looking down at him with a dark, raised eyebrow.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it," Finnick flashes a fake smile at her. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Actually, yes!" Venia says with a genuine smile and outstretched arms. A large stack of folders rests between her fingers. "I know you have a project you're working on right now, but Messalla insisted I have you check over my work. He said you're magnificent with numbers."

Finnick sighs as he sits back in his office chair, "How long is it going to take? I am planning on leaving in an hour."

"It shouldn't be that long just a few calculations," Venia insists as she rounds the corner of his cubicle. She cannot help but giggle as she notices the photos on the walls. A smile quirks onto Finnick's face.

"How is the little guy doing?" Venia asks, as she sits down in the rolling chair she brought with her.

"Sick at home with a stomach bug," Finnick says, taking a folder from her hands, he flips through the first booklet. Right on the first page, he notices she has made an error even an elementary school student could catch.

"Poor thing. I hope he feels better soon. Who's watching him?"

"His Aunt," he says with a pen cap in his mouth as he scribbles down the corrections.

"She's the one who's supposed to call?"

"Yes."

"How come his mom isn't taking care of him?" Venia hums as she spins around in her chair like a child. Looking over at her for a second, Finnick can see his narrow green eyes reflect back in her wide brown ones.

Venia tries to keep up a steady conversation while he works. Finnick covers for his minimal replies with the excuse of trying to concentrate. However, he refuses to acknowledge her nosiness with honest answers. He refuses to arm another woman in this office with a fresh strain of gossip. If Noah does not get to know his who his mother is, neither do they.

Johanna does not try to call once. Throughout the entire re-calculating of Cressida's numbers, Finnick did not leave his chair once. Not to grab a coffee, dinner or even for a washroom break. He begrudgingly there and works with all the remaining ounces of this patience. He finally gave up after four hours.

Standing outside their home, Finnick can feel body ache in unhealthy ways. Turning the key into the lock he pushes inside the town house, nearly collapsing on the floor in exhaustion. But he catches himself with a loud step. His second step makes his vision blur and the third causes him to acknowledge his dizziness.

"Fuck," he breathes as he slides his socked feet to the living room. Falling onto the couch, face first; he can feel the full force of his pain.

"Watch your language, Odair. Or the swearing police is going to write you up," Johanna whispers out of nowhere, with a grin. He groans at her in response as he shoves her away, forcefully.

"Shut the hell up, Mason. You're so full of shit. Don't you get tired of it?"

"What crawled up your ass, you ungrateful bastard?" She says, punching him in the shoulder. "I stayed home with your kid all day. He's still pretty sick, his fever kicked in again and even toast wouldn't stay down."

Bolting into an upright position, Finnick is not sure if it is the head rush that brings on the blurred vision or if the dizziness came back. "Why didn't you call me then?! I thought you didn't want to be on puke duty?"

"You know that wouldn't have made a difference, right? I would have been here with the two of you anyhow," Johanna crosses her arms over her chest. "I thought I might as well just handle it, which I did an ok job of, mind you. It wasn't so bad."

"Fuck Johanna, I didn't ask you to handle it! That's my responsibility! All I asked you to do was call me and check in, but you're too much of a fucking masochist to have done it!" Finnick can hear his voice raise a notch in volume.

"You have a phone too, Odair! You could have fucking called me if you were so fucking concerned!" Johanna spits back.

Finnick stays silent as he stands his full six feet three inches in front of Johanna's much shorter, slender body. He cannot help but remember their first fight, he towered over top of her much like he is right now. Her temper was much more fiery back then, she used to be unstable and let emotion be the kindle to her flames. However, the Johanna Mason that stands before him now is calm, logical even, and enveloped in the essence of maturity.

"I tried! You wouldn't answer."

"You should have kept trying then!"

"I did! On and off for four hours!"

Johanna narrows her gaze as she rolls her eyes upwards, contemplating. "Oh. I was on the phone with Roger's trying to get your phone fixed."

Finnick blinks, "What?"

"Memory of an ox, I swear," Johanna rolls her eyes, "I smashed your phone against the wall at breakfast. I salvaged the sim card and tried to get the thing fixed. You can't go without a phone. I thought … I could give you one less thing to worry about."

He did not know what to say. It is not as if Johanna is a cold-hearted monster, but going out of her way to put someone at ease is not something Finnick could ever recall Johanna doing.

"Thank you," Finnick smiles, as the tension wafts out of his body in wisps. Reaching his hand out to up her face, he strokes her cheek with his palm, "You didn't have to do that though. You have a life of your own, Jo. I don't want you to sacrifice any more of your time for me. You've done so much already. "

"Finn," she starts, those brown eyes of hers exemplify youth. The old nickname twists his heart like a corkscrew in a wine bottle. He feels eighteen again. With his university acceptance letter in his hand, ready to break Johanna's fragile heart all over again. "You have a full-time job and are a single parent to a young child who needs your love and attention so much so that you forget to take care of yourself."

"I knew what I was getting into when I said yes four years ago. I chose to let you back in my life because …" she takes a deep breath. "I am 29 and single, Finnick. I can hear my biological clock laughing at me. When you showed up at my door that day ... I said yes because I wanted to be the one to give a child good home. To give you a good home. Somewhere you and Noah could be yourselves and not feel judged by society."

Johanna never cries. Not when her parents got divorced. Nor did she shed a tear when she watched him board his plane to Illinois. Standing before him now with her watering eyes and her uneven breaths, Finnick knows he has accomplished the impossible.

"I want to help share the responsibility if it means you get to be your old, easy-going self again."

"Johanna, I-"

"Shut up," she tries to catch the tears as they fall, but her short, slender fingers cannot hide them fast enough. "Before you say something stupid."

He wraps his arms around her waist and holds onto her tight. "Anna," he whispers into the shell of her ear. "I am being serious. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have started to yell." Finnick squeezes her tighter. "Thank you for, again, today. For everything up to today. I really appreciate it. "

Taking her head out from the crook of his neck, those wet brown eyes of hers meet his sympathetic green ones. And with a tug of his lips in a lopsided smile, Finnick knows what's about to happen.

Her arms enclose around his neck as her fingers sift through his thick, darkening hair, latching on tightly. Pulling his head down towards hers, she forces their lips to meet in a long lost, since-forgetten, familiarity.

Hoisting her body onto his hips, he kisses her back with unadulterated need. Sweeping his tongue over the scar of her split lip, he coaxes them to part. Her grip on him tightens as falls back onto the couch. Licking the inside of her mouth quickly carefully, Finnick avoids areas he knows to be sensitive like her back molars and soft palate. Johanna has a tendency to squeak when she is tickled.

"Noah," Finnick realizes, pulling himself from Johanna. "What if he wakes up? How am I going to explain this?"

Johanna smirks, eyelids dropping while pushing her hips, roughly, into his along with light kisses across his tense jaw and exposed neck. "Finn, you tell him that his Auntie Johanna is giving you the best head you've ever gotten. And when he's sixteen, he'll find a woman just like me that will do even better things to his dick."

Finnick's lips mirror her smirk, "How do you know I haven't had better?" His hands snake up her up her t-shirt and along her spine while her hands make quick work on the knot in his tie and buttons on his shirt.

"Oh, hunny, that little Barbie doll you knocked up in college has nothing on me," Johanna laughs as her nails scrap down his abdomen before unlatching thick, leather belt wrapped around his hips. Popping the button, she slowly unzips the fly which brings a gurgled groan from his lips. Satisfied by his level of desperation, Johanna slides her hand down the hem and grasps her thin fingers around him tightly.

Finnick tries to hold it in as her hand lazily grazes up and down his cock. Biting his tongue, he holds back the groan in the back of his throat, threatening to escape. Giving a huff in satisfaction, Johanna slides out of his lap with a final kiss to his lips, and onto her knees.

"You shouldn't underestimate the rich and horny, Anna," he says with a slow breath as she flicks the tip with the apex of her tongue. A loud and clear groan slips past his lips as the initial throb pulses through his body. Taking the entirety of his head into her mouth, she swirls the body of her tongue around the soft skin, forcing him to curl his toes against the hardwood floor in an attempt to repress another noise.

"Anna," Finnick tries to keep his voice even as she slips half of him past her lips and pulls her cheeks in with the first bob of her head.

He can recall her technique better than some of the mathematics he uses every day. Johanna has always been a tease when it came to sex. She liked to listen to him beg. Though that was the joy Johanna found in her game. As he has her between his legs again after eight years, he cannot find it in him to care whether she toyed with him or made the experience short and painless.

Pulling another inch between her lips, after covering the first few in a hot, sloppy, mess he can feel her teeth graze him. His hands fly into her short, thin hair as he tries to navigate her off of him, but she refuses to let go as another portion of his cock is swallowed.

He slowly breathes out his nose as he bites into his cheek trying even more desperately not to moan. Gripping her thin locks, he holds her as she sets a quick pace of downs, ups and arounds.

"An-na," he tries again, struggling much more than before.

"Yes, Finn?" Her voice resonates against his shaft sending a warmth down his spine and a contraction into his stomach muscles. "Ready to come for me?" she says, looking up at him. He chokes on his own breath, caught in the increased lust Johanna has engulfed him in. He pulls her closer towards him on reflex, making her take him into her mouth until the tip brushes the back of her throat.

She does not move. Every muscle in her body rests perfectly still. A gentle coax of his hand down the back of her neck is all it takes for her to progress slowly. Carefully. Intentionally avoiding her teeth.

It is almost too much to bear as Johanna develops a steady pace. He can feel his heart beat with so much intensity that it could burst through his chest.

"Almost there yet? My face hurts," Johanna says, his cock still securely between her lips. The rapid vibration of her vocal cords around him has Finnick in shambles. Coming completely undone, his head falls back on the edge of the sofa as he tries to catch his lost breath.

"How was that?"she asks with her head in his lap. "Better than Catherine, right?"

"It was … different," he answers. "She's daintier, both were good though."

"You couldn't just appease me, could you?" she asks, standing up and falling onto the couch beside him.

Finnick shrugs as a roar of a yawn rips through his chest, "You're a beautiful piece of nostalgia, Johanna. That's infinitely more important to me than how well you compare to Catherine's ability to blow me."

He barely registers that the house goes silent for a moment, too caught in his haze of release and exhaustion.

"Y'know what, Odair?"

"What?"

"Even half asleep you know exactly what to say."

"It's a gift." Finnick smirks, eyes fluttering shut.

Finnick wakes up in the exact same spot he fell asleep in. Dressed in yesterday's clothing, he silently curses himself for wrinkling his last good white shirt. The least Johanna could have done take it off for him, especially since she had the courtesy to put him back in his pants.

The room is streaked in weak rays of light that poke through the blinds. Shadows form oddly against the walls and miscellaneous objects take on new shapes. Finnick gets up lazily as he tries to make sense of his surroundings. His eyes dart around until they find the digital cable box, where he reads the time, 7:38 am, clearly even through his blurry, stinging vision. Falling asleep with his contacts still in was not a good idea.

Sitting up straight and lifting himself off the couch, the disks in his spine pop in a revolting melody. "I really should start jogging again," Finnick mumbles to himself as he drags his body into the washroom. Taking out and tossing his disposable contacts into the trash, he rinses the horrid morning breath out of his mouth.

Finnick makes sure to open the door to his bedroom quietly as to not to wake Noah prematurely. However the tiniest creak of the floor boards have Noah bolting up from between the sheets of his father's bed. "Daddy?"

Finnick smiles, "Yeah, buddy, it's me. Sleep well?"

"You said we'd have dinner together last night," Noah frowns with his lower lip jutted out. Finnick refrains from chuckling as the gesture duplicates the one Catherine used to give him.

"I'm sorry, I had to work late. When I came home, I crashed on the couch and fell asleep."

Squirming out from under the covers, Noah crawls across the bed to where Finnick is standing. That cold, hard look in his eyes replicates his mother's ferocity to a tee. "You shouldn't yell at Auntie Jo. That's not nice, Daddy."

"I know," Finnick says. "I told her I was sorry, though."

"Good. Because I love when Daddy's nice the best," Noah says, giving him a big hug.

"I love you too, kiddo. Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"How about we try some toast, okay?" Noah wrinkles his nose before nodding his head. Giving the boy a kiss on the cheek, Finnick picks him up and carries him into the kitchen to find Johanna is already there. A cup of coffee in her hand, she carefully sips at it as she reads the morning paper.

"Morning Auntie Jo," Noah says, wiggling out of his father's arms and over to Johanna for a hug.

"Morning squirt, coffee?" she offers but he shakes his head giggling sweet and harmoniously. "What would you like then?"

"Can Auntie Jo make me toast and honey, please?"

"No honey for that tummy," she turns around from her place at the counter and pokes him in the stomach. "Not until you're one-hundred percent better."

"Fiiinne," Noah says as he climbs into his booster seat. "Can I have milk though?"

"Buddy, seriously. Toast and water. We talked about this yesterday," Johanna's eyebrows knit together as she uncaps the thermometer, pokes it into his mouth and under his tongue.

"Daadddy, canth Ith hafu milkth pthease?"

"If Auntie Jo said no, then it's a no. I can't help you," Finnick shrugs as he takes the cream out of the fridge, along with a loaf of bread and lunch meats.

"Not fair!" Noah whines.

"Yes fair! Now shush already before I make you wear the shoes with the laces that your idiot dad bought," Johanna threatens, successfully frightening the boy. However, it also earns her a pointed look from Finnick.

Not another word comes out of Noah's mouth until after he consumes his breakfast by announcing he is going to get ready for school.

"I'll be there in a minute," Finnick answers, placing the last piece of bread on the sandwich made for Noah's lunch.

One can hear a pin drop in their tiny kitchen at this very moment. Neither Finnick nor Johanna speaks a word to each other as they consumed their breakfast. It does not have to be said for them to know they had made a mistake last night. Upon moving in together, Finnick and Johanna had set ground rules, which mostly consisted of nonsense such as Finnick could only do his laundry on Mondays. Those rules became inapplicable after their first year together in this home. Laundry was laundry; it got done when it needed to get done regardless of the day of the week.

However, in the four years they have lived together, the one rule they both abide by is the no intimacy rule. They forbid themselves from having sex with complete strangers inside these four walls. Exposing Noah to the routine of one-night stands would warp his perception of love and affection. Something neither Finnick nor Johanna want Noah to misunderstand.

The sound of rushing water from the sink brings Finnick out of his head. Johanna's rinsing her cup and plate while humming a pop tune under her breath. He probably will not get another chance alone with her until later tonight. But this needs to be settled now, before it becomes too uncomfortable to deal with.

"Johanna, about what happened last night…" Finnick starts, placing his coffee and paper onto the table but he does not get to finish as she cups her hand over his mouth.

"Don't bust your balls over it, Odair. You looked like you needed it," she says, teasingly. "If you were in my shoes, I know you'd do it for me too." She pats one of his scruffy cheeks gently while pulling herself up to her full height. "Though y'know, you could always make it up to me with dinner."

Finnick laughs, shaking his head, "Does six o'clock tonight work for you?"

"Not a minute later or I'm going over to Peeta's to grab a knife so I can slit your throat," Johanna says with a hint of playfulness. But only a hint.

He laps up the last tendrils of coffee before placing his own cup in the sink. Heading off to his bedroom, Johanna in his path. "Excuse me?" he asks, but she refuses to side step him. Her body is rigid as she closes the distance between them. With a hand on his chest, her eyes stare directly up into his, begging for something as they flicker, vividly, like Christmas lights. The fleeting glint, conveying an emotion unknown to him, disappears quickly as it emerged. The gentle wriggle of her nose pulls Finnick out of his daze.

"You smell like a whore house. Go shower, you bum."

"Thanks, Anna," he says, rolling his eyes. Taking a wide stride to his left, she mirrors him, still not letting his pass. Her eyes dance in last night's reincarnated youth as she perches herself on the balls of her feet. Cradling his jaw in her too small hands, Johanna places her lips onto his, tenderly. She sweeps her tongue along the seam as she coaxes his mouth to open to let her in. Finnick does not reciprocate her movements, remaining still he watches as her eyes crinkle around the edges like they frequently do when she is embarrassed and unsure of herself.

"Dumbass," she curses, falling to the soles of her feet. While laughing forcefully, she shoves him. "You taste like diabetes. Maybe you should cut back on the sugar."

"Over my dead body, Jo," Finnick laughs airily before darting past her and into his bedroom, leaving her to stand in the kitchen, alone.

"Auntie Katniss has been the only one to pick us up so you haven't met her yet," Noah casually says breaking the silence in the car.

"Met who?" Finnick asks, looking back in the rear-view mirror at Noah. Despite his finicky stomach, Noah is placid. Watching people out the window idly, he does appear to be fazed by the rocking motion of the car. The ability to get right back up once they fall down, is something Finnick would have never fathomed to comprehend in children until he had Noah.

"Ms Cresta. She's our new helper. She's really nice," Noah continues, turning up and looking back at Finnick.

"But?" Finnick presses, yet Noah only shrugs before going back to look out the window. "What's wrong with Ms Cresta?"

"She's strange. "

"Strange how?" Finnick makes a sharp left turn unintentionally. His eyes flicking back to Noah, the boy does not look like he is uncomfortable or going to be nausea at all.

"She's really quiet. She only talks when someone asks her a question."

"Maybe she's nervous. She's new in your classroom, Noah. That doesn't mean she's strange."

"I know that," Noah sighs. "She's strange not only because she's quiet but because… she smiles weird too. She doesn't smile with her teeth. It is like when Auntie Katniss tells us Uncle Peeta is doing okay when he's really sick."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Finnick makes a right turn into the school. The parking lot is filled to the brim with parent and teacher vehicles making it incredibly difficult to not only navigate along the tarmac but finding a spot as well.

"You think she's strange too, don't you!"

"No, not at all. Ms Cresta is a very strong woman; there is nothing strange about that. Maybe you can get her to smile normally, though, if you were really nice to her back."

"Okay," Noah chirps with a smile on his face. "I'll be really nice to her."

"That's my boy," Finnick reaches back and grabs his son's thigh and squeezes it.

It is moments like these that Finnick feels most proud of their quaint little family. It is not much but it is something that the three of them have worked hard to construct even if it is not perfect. However, it works for them and Finnick could not feel more confident in himself that he made the right choice all those years ago.

Once he finds a parking spot and takes Noah out of his booster seat, Finnick firmly grasps onto his son's hand as they maneuver around other cars to the classroom. Like a dog on their first walk of the day, Noah sets their quick, nearly running pace towards the gate of the enclosed playground around the kindergarten door.

"That's her!" Noah points with a short finger at the brunette standing behind the fence off in a corner. She watches the children run around quietly while the parents speak animatedly amongst each other. Despite her introverted appearance, Finnick finds himself drawn to her simplicity. Ms Cresta has kept her makeup to a minimal, emphasizing the blue-green of her eyes rather than drowning them in dark tones. Her long, brown hair falls over one shoulder in a loose pony tail, which she is wrapping around her idle fingers. The gesture is nearly unnoticeable, making it that much more charming.

"Daddy, c'mon! Let's go say hi!" Noah drags him along with all the strength a five year old can muster. Finnick follows with ease. He makes one long, glide after another until he finds himself standing three foot away from her when Lara Bosch trills his name across the playground. Inadvertently, Lara spooks Ms Cresta causing her to stare out into their direction like a deer caught in headlights.

"Finnick," she cries again, curling her fingers in an awkward wave at him. He sends her a smile back, which pulls those surgically altered lips of her to stretch wider than her Botox injected face would let her. He does not risk another look back at Ms Cresta; the sudden release of Noah's hand in his tells him more than enough.

"Next time," Finnick pats his son's head. "I promise."

He is in his backyard, sitting in a beach chair. The sun shines low giving summer heat taking a rest of its own.

Taking a short sip from the beer in his hand, he discovers it is warm. But he drinks more of it anyways.

"You look cozy," Madge's giggle echoes in his ear. As he turns to look over at her, it is not Madge's body that takes up the empty chair, but his sister's. "You should wear a sweater though."

"I'll be alright," he says, leaning back and watching the sun set behind the horizon.

"Aww, but Nana made it just for you. She worked really hard on it," Madge's voice badgers him as Penny's lips pout.

"You say that every time Nana Mags makes me a sweater."

"But she wants you to stay warm in Canada," this time, it is Johanna's voice that gently nags him.

"Fine. Go get me the sweater then, I'm not moving."

"Finnick Odair, you are 27 years old, go get your own clothes you lazy bastard," it is Cashmere's turn to harass him. Leaving his beer where it is, and getting out of his chair, he only sees Cashmere standing behind him with a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised and a dainty foot tapping. "Well? Are you going then?"

He laughs to himself as he walks past her, not bothering to reach out to her.

Finnick does not realize how cold he is until coming into the kitchen. It smells like Christmas.

"Mom," he calls out padding further into the kitchen. He can see the oven is left on for the Odair Family traditional roast to cook. "Mom?" he tries again, walking further into the house.

"Your mom isn't here. She went to the store." Finnick does not recognize the voice this time.

Running out into the main hallway, he can hear the stairs creak as a brunette comes down the stairs. Her hair is unnaturally long and her blue-green eyes dance and sparkle in the artificial light. She reminds him of his mother.

"Daddy, isn't she pretty?" Noah pipes in suddenly. Appearing out of thin air, his face glows in pride.

Finnick looks down at his son thoroughly confused, "Yeah, she is."

"I knew you would think so Daddy."

"Who is she though?" He asks but Noah does not answer. Only smiles. And she, smiles as well, with ever steps she takes.

Hopping off the last step, Finnick can see her features in full and it clicks. Her giggle fills the house like it does the playground. With that bright smile of hers she climbs onto her tip toes and brushes a kiss to his lips.

Finnick wakes slowly. Patting the covers of his bed, he takes comfort in solitude. It was all a dream. There was no Madge, Penny, Johanna or Cashmere to nag him or invade his privacy. He is all alone and at complete peace.

That is when it comes back readily and without warning. Annie Cresta's glowing face smiling at him before she reached up from a kiss. He can feel his lips tingle like he has experienced his first kiss all over again. Trying to preserve the feeling, Finnick sweeps the pad of his finger over his bottom lip.

He had dreamed of Annie Cresta, intimately. She was stunningly, beautiful in the way only a dream could emphasis. Finnick runs a hand through his hair and down his face; he can feel the heat from his cheeks as large bunches of shame swirl inside of him.

"It just had to be her, didn't it? Out of all the women in this city," drives his fists into the closed sockets of his eyes letting a small groan slip between his lips.

Checking the time on the clock as he rolls over onto the cooler side of the bed, the red numbers, reading 4:04, remind him he has to be up in three hours for work. Shifting over onto his stomach, he wraps his arms around the white cottons pillows before burying his face in it. With a yawn, he finds his eyes growing heavy again. All remnants of his dream lost in his subconscious.

It had only been a dream. Nothing more, nothing less. It meant nothing.