'Paint Our Love'
Chapter Two: To The Victor, The Spoils
They saw each other every year at the Games; though she never mentored she was 'required' at the Capitol for its duration. They spoke more each year; only for their conversations- if that's what they could be called- to get more dangerous. She still didn't know the real life of a Victor yet, so she still hated them all and didn't do much to hide it. The older she got the more she discovered: Finnick heard about her Uncle's café being burnt down, with her Uncle and his young family still inside, just weeks before the 73rd Hunger Games. She'd apparently refused to come. Still, after that, she showed up. Wearing black.
The year after that 'accident' and just before the 74th Games she was finally 21- and everything changed.
She still didn't mentor, and she still wore black. But he knew, as soon as he saw her again, that it had happened: her first 'proposition'. He knew when he saw her at the presentation ball; when the tributes had gone to bed and the elitist of the Capitol had a party in which to make their bets and start their gossip. She had arrived on time and looked stunning. More stunning than Gloss, who eyed her with distaste. Finnick looked her over carefully, he always did, his eyes trailing up from her black, strappy heeled delicate shoes, up past the length of the dress that had a daring thigh-high split, enjoying the way the black velvet clung to her hips and waist and breasts up to her neck, with her slim arms and hands decorated with black henna designs and silver nails. Her hair was pinned up intricately with a silver headband and her lips painted a deep, blood-red. As soon as he saw her eyes, when she looked straight at him, he knew it had happened.
He watched her inconspicuously as she moved fluidly around the room, Seneca Crane, the 'hotshot' Gamemaker of the last 2 years, always following her around, his hands hovering just above her waist, or wrist, or hips, and his eyes intense and longing. The closer he got to her, the more ardent his gaze and his chatter, the more Johanna stiffened and the fiercer her face became. Finnick watched Seneca lean in, his hand almost resting on Johanna's waist, his eyes intent on her pursed lips as his own moved rapidly. Finnick, watching her like a hawk, would have found Seneca's obvious devotion almost-sweet and certainly laughable, had it not been for the whispers he had heard himself throughout the evening: that Seneca Crane wanted Johanna Mason to be his to own, and his alone, and he had paid handsomely for that pleasure. As Seneca moved closer still, the length of his body not-quite pressing against the back of hers, Finnick saw her fists clench and twitch towards her right hip- the same place she had stashed her little axes in the games- and he wondered if she had brought one tonight. He moved away from Mags; who for her part was watching him watch Johanna, and reached her side before Seneca could finally rest his hands on Johanna's slim curves.
"Johanna, Seneca," Finnick nodded at them both, putting on his most brilliant smile, "I hope you don't mind me interrupting but I believe our citizens want to see some Victors dancing." The lie sounded so true that Johanna's lip even upturned in a mixture of relief and annoyance.
Seneca's face twisted briefly before he controlled himself and he smiled smoothly, "Of course. To the Victor, the spoils." He raised his glass briefly and eyed Johanna intensely one last time before she strode past them both towards the dance floor. She stopped in the centre and Finnick was in front of her in seconds. She stared past him for a moment before her eyes locked on his. And he knew that she finally no longer hated him.
He stepped towards her and hesitantly, delicately, placed a hand on her waist and lifted her right hand to the correct position with his left. It was the first time they'd ever touched, in four years. Her eyes, suddenly vulnerable, dropped down as she placed her hand tentatively on his shoulder and he took another step towards her. He led her around the marble dance floor gently and said nothing until she lifted her gaze back to his.
He knew what she was about to say so he smiled brightly and said, "Johanna, don't forget the cameras. They'll love seeing you dance."
Her eyes flashed furiously for a moment and he let out a genuine chuckle, "Once more with that delightful smile."
And for a brief few seconds she smiled at him for the first time. It was genuine, but more of a smirk than an actual smile, and he grinned wider when she whispered, "I'll smile because I want to right now." She dropped her voice lower and barely moved her lips, "But if Crane comes near me again I'll only smile when he suffers." She trembled with anger and Finnick pulled her body right into his, relishing the feel of it. He could feel Seneca was watching, and knew all the other men and women who wanted to fuck them both tonight were, and he knew Snow was watching too. But for the first time since he won the Games, he didn't care. He held Johanna tight to him and felt her shaking reverberate into his bones. He would not let her go easily.
He suffered for that error very soon; Snow had him escort the Presidential designer to the post-interview party at the 74th Games and the middle-aged woman couldn't keep a finger to herself. But he was side tracked, which helped, there was some odd rumours going round about the impact of the District 12's girl volunteering and Finnick could sense that the smarter Victors were uneasy about it. When the girl was given an 11 in the scoring- the only one since his own- he was even more distracted. She had brushed up nicely enough but her interview was nothing too special. The only reason he didn't write her off right away- despite her score- was that she had a look about her, a fierceness that reminded him a little bit of Johanna.
Later on in the evening, when he managed to escape Romena for a few brief minutes whilst she 'refreshed' herself with the help of what Johanna coined the 'bulimia bonbons', he saw Johanna, Blight and Haymitch in what appeared to be an intense, hushed conversation. He was at their side within seconds, his arm brushing against Johanna's side deliberately so she shot him a filthy glare. He grinned back.
"What an impressive year for you Haymitch… there's a first time for everything."
Haymitch stared grimly back at him, understanding the implication of Finnick's words. "Fuck off."
Johanna smirked, "Well said… where's your date?" She turned an eyebrow on him archly.
Anger and surprise churned in his gut that she would bother to turn that into an insult, and he retorted, "Where's Crane? Lurking behind those pillars watching you as usual? Or are you two done already for the night?"
She looked thunderous in an instant and Blight put a hand on her arm, "I'd say bite me Finnick, but you've lost any real touch fucking all your vapid Capitol buyers." She shrugged Blight off and nodded at Haymitch, "I'll be at the bar," before pushing past Finnick and striding off.
He watched her go, furious and amused simultaneously, and admired the way her black lacy cat-suit clung to her every curve. When he turned back to the other men, Haymitch was grinning toothily.
Blight, on the other hand, smiled slightly, but sadly, "She's angry with you for bringing the woman. She took a beating for refusing Crane again."
"What?" Finnick stared back at Johanna again, who was stood at the bar tightly holding a tumbler full of whiskey. "When?"
"Last night. She didn't tell me, but I heard it before she dragged herself into the flat." He paused briefly and his eyes lit up with a strange mix of anger and pride, "But she did some damage herself. Heard her break one of their legs at least."
Finnick, had he not been so angry, would have realised she was lucky to be able to stand there at the bar at all for such a refusal. "I'm going to speak to her."
Haymitch snorted, "Great idea."
Blight shook his head, "It won't change her mind."
Finnick scowled, he wasn't sure he wanted to change her mind. He knew what Seneca Crane wanted to do to her, or force her to do to him, but he knew what else the Capitol could do to her if she refused again. He didn't say another word to Haymitch and Blight before he weaved through the crowd to the bar, smiling and winking when necessary and letting several hands graze across his bum and crotch and stomach on his way. He was used to it now- being treated like a toy, like an object. His desirability kept him alive and his family safe.
She was quite drunk when he reached her and he wondered how many tumblers of whiskey she had drunk in those brief few minutes she was alone at the bar. She was leaning against a gold column at the end of the bar and she stood out, from all the bright hair and dresses and shining metallic-tinted skins of the Capitol woman, in a way that made him pause before he reached her. He had to be subtle about this. Johanna was clever but she wasn't measured. He had to get this just right or both of them would suffer even more.
He sauntered up to her, looking cheery and for all the world as if he was greeting a dear family member, "Johanna." He said her name loudly enough for some to hear so that his tone of simple pleasantness could be noted. But when he got nearer and she looked at him, still scowling, he murmured her name so only she could hear. He stood by her, still grinning in his most practiced manner, "Where does it hurt?"
Her head turned to his and he knew she was infuriated he'd found out. "Nowhere- fucking guards here are just thugs."
She was lying, he knew, of course she was hurt. What she really meant was, "It was nothing compared to the Games, to life," and of course, she meant, "I got them back."
He said nothing, but turned towards her slightly, still smiling, eyes still wide cheerily. "You can't do it forever."
"Neither can you." Her eyes were on his, not quite sharp but not soft either, and her voice was cutting. He nearly flinched. She turned away and downed the liquid in her glass. "Now fuck off, I'm going to cause trouble and you have a date to entertain."
There was no way he was going to do what she said or let her do anything stupid. He took the glass from her, set it down behind him and dropped his voice to the lowest it could get. "We're leaving. Meet me at the elevator. Let's cause trouble somewhere else."
She resisted him for a few moments, "Fuck them."
He knew she wanted to let it out that part of her ferocious nature was screaming to show them what she really thought. But maybe it was him, maybe it was her covered bruises from the previous night, maybe the drink dulled her emotions… but after glowering at him for a moment she nodded tightly and walked off.
Part of him knew that, again, somewhere in that room, Snow and Crane were watching. But something about the way people were gossiping about Katniss Everdeen made Finnick instinctively feel that this time they wouldn't be Snow's primary concern. So he walked off too, still smiling and kissing cheeks, whilst mentally counting the 30 seconds it would take him to reach Johanna at the elevator.
Please review and keep reading- updates soon as I've pretty much finished this one already for once! x