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If Peeta Mellark was good at anything, it was playing the game. Sometimes even he forgot what the truth was, so caught up in the lies he’d concocted. Katniss is pregnant. They’re engaged. They’re deeply in love with each other. He’d lived them long enough it was easier just to accept them as fact. It was a matter of survival, after all, and that was all Peeta wanted.
Only, Katniss wasn’t pregnant — couldn’t be — and they definitely weren’t engaged. It was fun to pretend, get down on one knee on live television and proclaim his affections to the whole of Panem, but it was all a show. They were never going to get married, not when only one of them would make it out of the Quarter Quell alive. The president would ensure a single victor this time.
As for love, Katniss could hardly care less about him. Too caught up in the idea of Gale and Prim and District 12 to worry about her feelings towards the baker’s son. Of course, she went along with Peeta’s lies because even a fool could see it made them interesting — the key to the Capitol’s hearts (and their money). She wasn’t invested though; only did the bare minimum to keep up the charade and ignored him otherwise. It wasn’t like Peeta minded.
He had thought, years ago when they were both children, that he’d had a crush on her. Later, he realised he’d been lying to himself too. It was far harder to ignore the draw of her best friend Gale, involuntarily staring at the way his muscles strained when he carted sacks of coal down the high street. It was impossible to deny when the taller, broader man kept popping up in his dreams. Still, Peeta kept that to himself and figured it wasn’t important when he found himself in a twenty-four-man fight to the death for the second year in a row. There were more pressing issues to worry about.
And then Finnick Odair was selected as District 4’s male tribute, messing up all of Peeta’s plans. He’d been aware of the man for years: a skilled retiarius who’d won victory in his Games despite his young age, charming both the Capitol and Peeta in the process. There was only so long he could pretend Finnick was a role model, not when the rest of Panem proclaimed him a sex symbol as soon as he stepped out of the arena. Something about the eyes, or the smile, or his tall, lithe stature, or the tousled hair, or the…everything. Peeta never expected to meet him, let alone attempt to kill him. Although, if he was being honest, his chances at outmanoeuvring the man were pretty slim.
He’d steadfastly ignored Finnick throughout training, despite Haymitch’s encouragement to secure him as an ally, hoping that pretending he wasn’t there might make him disappear. It didn’t, but it gave Peeta a few days of respite before they came face to face in the arena.
That, unfortunately, was now.
*.*.*.*.*
Peeta took consolation in the fact he hadn’t yet been brutally massacred via trident, but having to sit next to Finnick around a campfire might be even worse. They were assigned to lookout together, the rest of their newly formed alliance in uncomfortable sleep on the forest floor. There was an awkward silence hanging between the two, an uneasy connection that comes from not knowing where you stand. Peeta wanted to ask why Finnick had done it; why had he saved his life instead of leaving him to die?
He’d heard most of it from Katniss — how the forcefield stopped his heart and how Finnick resuscitated him. It would’ve been a fairly painless death, especially for the Games, so why had he saved him? Surely one less tribute was one less risk. He wanted to ask but the words kept getting stuck in his throat. Each shaky breath made his ribs ache, a reminder of the brutal pressure his torso had faced.
‘Are you okay?’ Finnick broke the silence, staring intently into the fire and avoiding Peeta’s inquisitive gaze.
‘Yeah. Yeah, I think so,’ he replied. ‘Been better, but I’m alive.’
‘You’re alive.’
Finnick was playing with the bracelet Haymitch had given him, twisting it around his wrist as the gold reflected the flames. He looked lost in thought, or maybe he couldn’t stand the sight of Peeta. He wondered if he was having regrets about saving his life.
‘Why did you do it,’ Peeta asked eventually. Finnick still wouldn’t look at him.
‘Do what?’
‘You know what. Save me. It would’ve been easy to let me die.’
Finnick paused his fiddling, the bracelet resting softly against his skin. He let his arm drop as he turned to lock eyes with Peeta.
‘I don’t know, okay. I don’t know. Say it was for the baby.’
‘The baby? Oh. Our baby. My baby.’ Finnick looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Clearly someone had seen through his lie then. Peeta wondered what else he knew.
‘You seem like a nice kid. I make a point to help those that deserve it.’
‘I’m not a kid. Not anymore.’
‘No, I suppose not. No one who makes it out of the Games is. You lose something in there — in here.’ He was looking out into the darkness, eyes focusing on nothing but the blur of trees and the murky sky. ‘I was trained in combat my whole life in case I was reaped. I thought I was prepared but it’s completely different when you have to kill someone for real. Take the life of another child. I was a child, we all were.’
‘I saw your games. I thought you were amazing. Terrifying, but amazing.’ Peeta shivered, the fire doing little to keep him warm against the night chill. Finnick moved closer in response, pressing his arm against Peeta’s shoulder. It wasn’t quite a hug, but it was close enough.
‘I think the rest of Panem agreed,’ he said. ‘I was in high demand after that. Everyone wanted a piece of the youngest victor ever.’
‘You mean—’
‘Sold to the highest bidder, over and over again,’ Finnick interrupted. The muscles in his jaw clenched and Peeta could tell he was gritting his teeth.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I don’t want your pity.’
‘It isn’t pity. Anger, maybe. We all do what we have to to survive.’
Finnick didn’t reply, only got to his feet and threw another branch onto the fire. Across the clearing Katniss shifted in her sleep. Peeta watched as she moved, concerned that she was too cold, too uncomfortable, too vulnerable. He could never tell what she was thinking, but he would always be grateful to her for saving his life more than once. That was something she and Finnick had in common. If he stopped to think about it long enough it became embarrassing how often he’d been brought back from the brink of death.
‘Thank you,’ he said eventually. ‘You probably don’t want to hear it, but thank you.’
Finnick grunted in response and settled back onto the ground next to him, resting a thigh on top of Peeta’s knee and placing an arm to hold his weight behind the small of his back. Peeta would be lying if he said he didn’t get a bit flustered, the blood rushing to his cheeks clearly not just because of the chill. Finnick wasn’t exactly a celebrity crush, but he was something close, and Peeta had thought about him more than once over the years.
Finnick shifted, the leaves crumbling under his moving body, and turned to look at Peeta. He hoped the man wouldn’t notice the flush, the way the tops of his ears had turned a soft shade of pink as he averted his eyes. Perhaps that was too much to ask for.
‘I might have had…ulterior motives for earlier. I’m not exactly keen on you kicking the bucket just yet.’
‘Ulterior motives?’
Finnick leaned down to whisper, his breath ghosting the side of Peeta’s face as he ensured no one watching them from the Capitol would be able to hear. ‘I know about you and Katniss.’
Peeta had already guessed this was the case, but it was alarming to hear it out loud. His tongue felt very dry as he stared fixedly at his hands. ‘Does anyone else?’
‘I haven’t told. As far as I’m aware no one’s guessed.’
‘How—’
‘How did I work it out? Takes one to know one, Peeta.’
Peeta was about to ask what Finnick meant when it dawned on him. ‘Oh. You’re…’
‘Yeah, I am. It’s the Capitol’s dirty little secret.’ He drew closer still to Peeta, knowing that there would be cameras trying to pick up every word, trying to ignore the way he made him squirm. If it were any other situation he’d laugh about it. As it was, he tried to convince himself that he was doing a good job of keeping Peeta warm and nothing more.
‘I’ve never met someone else like that,’ Peeta said. ‘I thought I was odd.’
‘Oh trust me, there are plenty out there. I’ve slept with half of them.’ Peeta looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or run, so Finnick made the decision for him, chuckling lightly at his own joke. Peeta still looked uncomfortable though, and Finnick wondered if he should have brought it up at all.
‘Are you — and I’m sorry if I’m wrong — are you hitting on me?’
At this, Finnick couldn’t help but grin. Resting his head on Peeta’s shoulder and pressing his lips against the base of his ear he asked, ‘is that what you want me to do?’ He delighted in the resultant shiver and the shaky tone to his voice as he replied.
‘Maybe. No. There’s Katniss — we’re engaged.’
‘But are you really? Surely that’s what makes it so fun. The thrill of the faux affair.’
‘The Capitol wouldn’t know that. They’d hate me. I can’t destroy everything I’ve built until now.’
‘They might hate you, but they’d care.’
‘I’d be dead before I knew it.’
‘You’d be interesting. Interesting is what they want, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes,’ he hesitated, ‘but surely they’d all sympathise with Katniss.’
‘Of course they would, but if you die then so does the love triangle. Just think: the poor pregnant girl abandoned by her fiancé for the sex symbol, with you in the centre. It would make great telly. Panem would be heartbroken if you got killed after all that and they never found out how it ended. If anything, it’s better life insurance.’
‘I’m not convinced.’
‘Well,’ said Finnick, running his hand along the ridges of Peeta’s spine, ‘what is it that you want? It’s your life, you make the decision. Stop letting others dictate what you can and can’t do. I’m here if you want me.’
With that, he withdrew his head from Peeta’s neck and stood up, crossing the clearing to gather some more branches. Peeta was left alone on the floor, with only his thoughts for company. Finnick had a point, he realised, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing him before. Or kissing a bloke in general. The only person he’d ever kissed was Katniss and that was severely underwhelming for both of them.
It took him a moment to do the calculations in his head, work out his chance of survival before and after cheating on his supposed fiancée on live television. Then he decided he didn’t care. Screw them all, if he was going to die anyway, he’d go out with a bang.
‘Hey, Finnick,’ he called, forcing himself to look the man in the eye. ‘If they want a show, why don’t we make it a spectacle?’
And, making sure to catch the attention of the cameras, he crossed the campsite to Finnick’s waiting arms.