Chapter Text
Annie did not want to spend the better half of her night half-carrying, half-dragging an incredibly heavy and unconscious Finnick Odair off of the beach in District 4.
This is quite literally the last thing that she ever thought she would be doing with her free time, and also one of the things she wanted the genuine least, but here she is. Dragging his mostly limp body through the sand, wondering if she could hoist his body over her shoulder without waking him up.
Though, Annie thinks, the man seems to be pretty much dead to the world. She didn’t bother trying to shake him or yell his name or anything stupid like that — Finnick Odair is a Victor, and Annie knows well enough to not fuck with Victors. She’s seen the Games, everyone has seen the Games. She doesn’t blame them for the shit they had to do to survive, but she knows damn well that she isn’t going to go kicking the proverbial hornet’s nest by triggering a Victor’s fight or flight instincts.
So Annie is dragging him, asleep, to her house in the dead of night.
She doesn’t know how long he’s been on that beach, she didn’t even know that he was in District 4, and there’s about a million other things that she doesn’t know about him, either. Annie doesn’t know if this was some sort of attempt, maybe a bad reaction to whatever he put in his system. Maybe he just passed out right there on the beach, for whatever reason. Either way, Annie’s hoping that he manages to figure out his bullshit sometime in the morning, because she does not have enough room in her house to host another person for more than one or two nights.
She pauses as she’s carrying him, shifting her weight to better support the both of them. She could probably drop him off at the Victor’s Village. She knows that another Victor, Mags, lives there. Annie doesn’t know the names of the other Victors all that well, and she definitely doesn’t know if they even live there. But she knows that Mags does.
Mags is also, seemingly, a seventy year old woman. Annie isn’t going to dump a nearly full-grown man on her front porch. Mags might have been a Victor, but she’s also an old Victor, and Finnick is goddamn heavy, and Annie just doesn’t think it’s the right thing to do to pass him off like some random item she picked up on the beach. Which is pretty much what happened, but he’s still an actual person, and Annie isn’t interested in handing him off to someone who she doesn’t know that well. She’s sure Mags is a lovely woman, but there’s always the off-chance that she’s actually not, and Annie isn’t going to be responsible for whatever could potentially happen to Finnick Odair.
Annie manages to drag him all the way off the beach before she needs to readjust, mostly so she isn’t dragging the poor man across the hard streets that she’ll have to cut through to get to her house. Annie rolls her shoulders back, reaches down, and hoists the man up into her arms, haphazardly holding him over her shoulder. She’s suddenly very grateful for the limitless amount of torture her six older brothers put her through growing up, because she’s pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to carry Finnick like this if they hadn’t tormented her throughout her whole life.
Annie is also partially grateful for the fact that it’s the middle of the night, and there’s pretty much no one else awake. That was part of the reason she went down to the beach — she’s always liked being able to have the ocean to herself.
And, of course, there was Finnick Odair. Sprawled out all over the beach. Ruining her plans.
She figures that she probably can’t blame him too much. As she carries the man over her shoulder and back to her house, Annie can’t help but think of how he flaunts himself around. He acts like a total playboy, all cocky and snarky and arrogant. Annie has never liked him, though it isn’t like she’s ever really needed to. They don’t interact, they’ve never met before this. But she’s still never liked him all that much.
But it’s sort of hard to feel anything other than sympathy for him after seeing him on the beach. It isn’t like Annie has ever had any sort of real bias or hatred towards a good majority of the Victors she’s seen, Finnick included. She’s always just thought that he was generally unlikable. Now, though, she thinks that she might need to reconsider her stance.
Annie is so unbelievably thankful when she reaches her house, bumping into the door a few times as some rudimental way of knocking. She figures that someone will be awake, and there’s no goddamn way that she’s putting Finnick down on her porch just to open the door.
And, just as expected, the door opens half a second later.
“Good lord, Annie.”
Annie ignores the irritation in her mom’s voice, opting to just push past her and into the house. “Found him on the beach,” Annie says after a moment, keeping her voice as low as she can. “Passed out. Figured that he might as well not get pulled in by the tide and drown.”
Her mom snorts at that, and Annie can’t help but roll her eyes. She can tell that her mom definitely does not want anything to do with this, but she still opens the spare room door, and Annie gratefully shuffles into said room a second later. She practically tosses Finnick onto the bed, heaving a low sigh at the ache in her shoulders.
She stands there for a moment, wondering if this is pretty much it. Annie rests her hands on her hips, sighing again as she turns her head to the side, glancing back at Finnick after a few seconds. She can see the rise and fall of the man’s chest, so he’s still alive, thankfully enough. She checked back on the beach, but it’s nice to see that he didn’t die on the way back.
Annie spares one last look at him before she starts to back out of the room, locking the door behind herself as she goes. Maybe that’ll give him some sort of comfort or assurance that she didn’t maliciously drag him back into her house. Maybe it’ll keep him from freaking out when he wakes up in some stranger’s bed, because god forbid he’s destructive when he panics. Either way, Annie locks the door, and hopes that it does whatever good it’ll do for him.
She stalks over into her room, and lays there in her bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, feeling something entirely indescribable.
Annie wakes up to an empty house and a still-locked door, which she figures is probably the best way it all could have gone.
Annie did not want to have to explain to the rest of her family on why there happened to be the world’s most insufferable and “charming” Victor in their spare room. She’s also fairly certain that Finnick would probably want as few people to know about this as possible, though she definitely cares significantly less about that and more so about her own want to not have to deal with eight other people harassing her.
Annie sits out in her kitchen, casually making breakfast as quietly as she can. She doesn’t know just what the hell happened to Finnick Odair to cause him to be dead to the world, but if it’s anything substance related, she knows the pains of being hungover and being woken up unwillingly. She grabs some of the fruit she bought recently out of the fridge, setting most of it in a bowl.
If it is substance related, Annie figures she can’t blame the man. God knows how she’d handle being thrust into the Games, especially not that young. Annie has never been a judgemental person, and she absolutely does not plan on starting with Finnick Odair. She thinks that he deserves some extra grace, if anything.
She isn’t surprised at all when she hears the door open slowly a few minutes later, only given away by a slight squeak. Annie looks up, almost laughing at the near-sheepish look on Finnick Odair’s face. He looks like he’s been caught doing something wrong, almost, and it completely makes up for the burn in her shoulders.
“I’m—”
“Finnick Odair,” Annie supplies for him, arching an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Finnick offers instead, only looking more sheepish. “I’m sorry.”
There’s a sort of softness and genuinity to his voice that Annie doesn’t think she’s ever heard before. She admittedly isn’t one to keep up with Victors, and she avoids watching anything Capitol related if she can, but she’s seen enough of Finnick Odair to know what he usually sounds like, and this isn’t even close. Suddenly, Annie can’t help but feel sort of like the biggest idiot in Panem for assuming absolutely anything about Finnick was fact, given how the Capitol is the fucking Capitol.
“You’re not the heaviest person I’ve hauled back here,” Annie says with a shrug, smiling a little as she turns away from him to grab another bowl. “I found you on the beach. Passed out,” she continues, turning back. Finnick hasn’t moved an inch, and Annie’s actually half-certain that he’s backed up a bit. “How’re you feeling?” Annie asks, figuring that’s a good enough start.
She doesn’t exactly know or understand how Victors work, but she’s got a pretty good guess. Annie sets her hands on the table, keeping them still and unmoving. Maybe that’s too much of a cliche, but she wouldn’t know, so she’s working with what she’s got.
“Thankful,” Finnick says, offering a small smile. She sees his eyes dart to her hands for half a second, watching how he slowly looks less like he’s about to bolt. “I guess I didn’t realise how tired I was. Thank you,” he continues, still very obviously staying as still as possible. “I really am sorry for the...” he trails off, making a slow motion towards the room he just stepped out of. “For all of this,” he seemingly decides on a second later. “If there’s anything you need, I’d be happy to—”
“Eat,” Annie suggests, though it’s more or less not even a suggestion in the slightest. She slides the bowl of fruit towards him, giving him the most expectant look that she possibly can. “You don’t have to stay for very long. But do you actually remember how long you were passed out for?”
Finnick is quiet at that, as if he’s considering. Annie isn’t exactly sure where she made it seem like there was actually another choice that wasn’t eating, but she’s interested in whatever excuse he’s trying to come up with. Just because he’s a Victor doesn’t mean he has any sort of leeway in this situation.
“Okay,” Finnick eventually says, offering her another smile that Annie is sure the Capitol would eat up. “Thank you, again...” he trails off, and it doesn’t take very long for Annie to understand what he’s getting at.
“Annie,” she supplies for him, casually moving to sit a little farther away from him, given how Finnick looks like he’s still halfway on death’s door. “Annie Cresta. My family will probably be back in maybe an hour,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “Do you have anywhere else to be?”
“Not for a few weeks,” Finnick says with a shrug, slowly looking less like he’s about to die. “Thank you,” Finnick adds on after a moment of silence and picking at the fruit bowl. “I really am sorry for...all of this,” he murmurs, ducking his head. “My offer still—”
“This is me accepting your offer,” Annie helpfully informs him, giving him a look. Finnick just blinks sort of owlishly at her, his eyes huge. As if he isn’t used to this. Annie relaxes her face, deciding to smile at him instead, because he still looks like he’s one bad move away from freaking out. “I have everything that I need. I make decent money in the markets,” she tells him. “I’m comfortable. Just eat your fruit.”
Finnick looks at her for another few seconds before he smiles, and Annie swears that she can see the tension physically ebb out of his face and shoulders. He practically wolfs down the fruit after that, and Annie can’t help but smile too, turning her head away as she does so. This Finnick Odair is charming, she thinks. Not the cocky, pretentious playboy in the Capitol. Maybe that’s the real Finnick and this is just an act, but either way, Annie thinks that maybe she’s been a little duped, because she’s currently being a little charmed by the man.
“Did anyone see you bring me back here?” Finnick asks through a mouthful of fruit, looking back up at her. Annie resists the urge to roll her eyes at the man, opting to eat a chunk of mango before responding.
“I don’t think so,” she tells him, shifting her bowl off to the side. “It was late. Mostly everyone was probably asleep.”
“And you weren’t,” Finnick muses, his eyes sparkling a little. “Lucky me.”
Annie does roll her eyes this time, tilting her head to the side as she examines the man. “Lucky you,” she agrees, popping another piece of mango into her mouth. “I like going to the ocean at night,” Annie tells him without really thinking. At the way his eyes suddenly light up, she can’t help but feel like maybe that was the right move. “And clearly so do you.”
She doesn’t really mean to try and make some sort of connection with him. But Annie has always been unbelievably terrible at not not doing that. Plus, after watching Finnick act like a kicked dog at the notion of him causing any inconvenience, Annie can’t help but be more inclined to get the man to stop giving her those sad eyes.
“I love the ocean,” Finnick says, so painfully sincere that it’s almost enough to make Annie want to spill out far too much about herself. She studies him for a moment, at the brightness in his eyes, the sudden energy that he seems to hold. If she looks at him long enough, Annie can almost see parallels between the two of them.
“It’s the thing I miss the most about District 4,” Finnick continues. “I miss the beach and the ocean and swimming. There’s pools in the Capitol, but they’re not the same. It isn’t the same at all.”
“Nothing could come close to the real thing,” Annie muses, and Finnick rapidly nods his agreement, which is almost charming in a way. He’s not charming in the conventional sense, Annie figures. She’d still strangle the persona he has when he’s in the Capitol. But right now, with him eating her food and talking about the ocean like it’s his favourite thing in the world, Annie can’t help but be a little charmed.
“Exactly,” Finnick agrees, beaming at her as he shovels a mango into his mouth. “I miss it,” he says again, a little quieter this time. “I miss the ocean a lot. Which explains my...” he shrugs, waving a hand. “Disastrous trek down to the beach. Though,” Finnick pauses, beaming at her again. “I guess it wasn’t all that disastrous. Given my hero, and all that.”
Annie snorts, giving the man the most pointed look she can possibly muster up. “Just this once, Finnick. I’m not exactly looking to have to wake up at one in the morning to check the beach for any stray Victors,” Annie informs him, half-joking half-serious. She’d drag his ass back again if need be, but she’d much rather give her shoulders the break they deserve. “Do they not let you come back often?” Annie asks after another second.
Finnick is immediately quiet, and Annie watches as he decidedly chooses to pick at his fruit rather than putting it in his mouth. “Sometimes,” he eventually says, very clearly uncomfortable. “It’s—”
“Hey,” Annie interrupts, tilting her head to the side as she studies him. “It’s not that big of a deal to me,” she tells him, as sincerely as she can. “I don’t need to know if you don’t want me to. Eat your fruit.”
Finnick blinks up at her, also very clearly surprised by that. Annie just makes a motion to his fruit, raising an eyebrow at him as she looks at him expectedly. She doesn’t need to know about the bullshit in the Capitol if he doesn’t want her to, but she absolutely will be making him eat his damn fruit like a grown man. Maybe it’ll ease his mind from whatever he so obviously doesn’t want to think about.
Thankfully enough, Finnick does end up going back to eating his fruit, keeping his head low. Annie doesn’t speak or prod him, opting to finish her own bowl. She considers cutting up more for him, but she figures that she doesn’t need him getting sick because she made him eat too much. So Annie chooses to pick up her bowl and turn away from him, turning on her sink to wash it out.
“Could I open a window?” Finnick suddenly asks, his voice less quiet than it had been.
“You’re planning on staying?” Annie asks over her shoulder, glancing back at the man. She doesn’t wait for an answer, opening the window in front of her instead. She moves from her kitchen out into her living room, opening all the windows in there, too. Annie’s not all that worried about passerbys showing up and making a fuss out of Finnick Odair being in her house — most people don’t come this far out to where she lives.
It’s always been more of an annoyance, living on the outskirts of District 4. But Annie has always managed to make do with it, and she’s suddenly pretty damn thankful for it, because it means the two of them get to keep a relative amount of anonymity over this whole situation.
“Not for long,” Finnick clarifies. “I’m sure you’d like to have your house back.”
“I don’t mind that much,” Annie disagrees, turning back to look at him. She almost wants to laugh at how he’s standing over her sink with his bowl in one of his hands, awkwardly holding out the other. She didn’t even hear him get up, and she figures that’s probably a Victor thing. “My family’ll be back soon enough, though. I’m sure you don’t want to deal with more people.”
Finnick shrugs, ducking his head as he somehow manages to gain the courage to turn the sink on. “I don’t mind people all that much, really. Not District 4 people.”
Annie doesn’t need him to spell it out for her in clearer terms than he already has. “I’m sure,” she says instead, pausing as she watches him for another second before looking away. She’s never had a clear-cut idea of Victors in her head, but somehow, Finnick Odair is exceeding every single one of her nonexistent expectations.
He’s charming. In a ridiculous sort of way. Him standing over her sink and hesitating like it’s going to bite him has Annie wanting to roll her eyes, though she feels something almost like fondness. She doubts it’s fondness because she doesn’t actually know quite literally anything about him, but Annie doesn’t really have any other words that match up with the feeling in her chest.
“The beach is always open,” Annie muses, already moving to put on her boots. “If you wanted to try that again. Since you’re more,” she pauses, turning her head over her shoulder to grin at him. “Awake. I’m not carrying you down there.”
Finnick laughs, and Annie can’t help but smile at how he throws his head back when he does it. “That’s too much to ask?” Finnick questions, sounding almost defeated.
“Far too much,” Annie helpfully agrees, lacing up her boots in less than fifteen seconds. She’s back up on her feet in no time, already moving towards her front door. “You can stay in my house if you want,” Annie says after a second. “But I’m leaving. Up to you.”
Annie almost laughs again at how Finnick is pretty much immediately scrubbing his bowl out even faster. “I’ll come,” he says over his shoulder, like there was any room for any sort of confusion. Annie just stands by the door, smiling a little as she watches him set the bowl all very gently onto the drying rack, spinning around on his heels to face her. “The beach?” Finnick asks, his eyes sparkling.
“The beach,” Annie confirms, grinning at him over her shoulder as she stalks out of her house. She keeps the door open for him, smiling at the polite nod of his head he gives her once he’s outside.
Annie walks fast, but she’s convinced that Finnick is somehow cheating in some sort of way, given how he’s practically ten feet ahead of her nearly immediately.
Annie just rolls her eyes and starts to take longer strides, eventually managing to start walking side-by-side with the man. She keeps her head held high, dutifully ignoring any and all stares the pair of them might be getting. She’s not overly interested in explaining why she’s hanging out with a Victor, and she’s sure Finnick feels the exact same. Annie spares a quick look up at him, shaking her head at the bright grin plastered all over his face. He’s funny, in a rudimental sort of way.
She keeps walking alongside him for a bit, slowly getting the both of them to turn to the right down the hill once the ocean is close enough in sight. Luckily enough for her, Finnick takes the signal easily, and then he’s practically racing down into the sand.
Annie does laugh this time when he collapses onto his back, sand puffing up all around him. Finnick lets out a long sigh that has her rolling her eyes all over again, watching him with her hands on her hips. She suddenly has a very vivid mental image of him doing this exact thing before promptly passing out, and it makes her smile just a little.
Annie kicks off her boots, stretching her arms above her shoulders before she pulls off her shirt, setting it down next to her boots. She strides towards the ocean, easily stepping over Finnick, who’s clearly busy playing dead.
Annie dives into the ocean a second later, melting into the cold waves that wrap all around her body. She lets herself sink down for a few seconds, shooting back up a moment later. Annie brushes her hair back out of her face, watching as Finnick eventually decides to get back up. He rolls onto his other side, sitting up for a second, and then pushes himself up.
“Is that what happened to you last night?” Annie can’t help but call out, watching as Finnick blinks for a second before he grins all wide, holding his hands up in mock defeat.
“You caught me,” he says, heaving an incredibly long sigh that has Annie rolling her eyes for the fourth or fifth time now. “I guess I just knocked the wind out of me,” Finnick continues, brushing his hair back with both hands. “Sorry for not coming clean earlier.”
Annie laughs, shaking her head as she starts paddling further away from him. “I’m sure you are, Finnick.”
Finnick laughs back, and Annie can’t help but smile at how he seems less like he’s about to die at any given moment. She’s not overly invested in him or anything in regards to him, but she thinks that she’s learnt enough about the man to sympathise more. His general skittishness towards the Capitol, his sheepishness, all of it paints him in a far different light than what he usually holds himself in, and Annie’s finding it hard not to care just a little about Finnick Odair.
That lasts all of five or six seconds before he decides to cannonball into the water, completely hitting Annie and subsequently pushing her under. Annie resurfaces with a practiced ease that she can only attribute to her brothers, and sends Finnick the sharpest glare she can manage — also attributed to her brothers. Finnick just blinks all innocently at her, his eyes huge. He’s only betrayed by the stupid grin still plastered across his face.
Annie wastes no time in slamming her hand down onto the surface of the water, sending an equally large wave of water right at Finnick.
She immediately dives back under and into the ocean as soon as she’s certain he’s been hit. Annie swims away from him, gliding easily under the water. She pops back up after a few seconds, grinning even despite herself at the lack of Finnick Odair in her line of sight.
He's sort of ridiculously endearing, Annie thinks. He's a little insufferable and a huge fucking weight on her shoulders, literally, but she likes him well enough. She thinks she's liking him more now that they're in the ocean together, though she's not surprised by that. The ocean has always made her nicer.
Annie feels movement beside her to her right, and she's immediately diving back down, glaring at Finnick the best that she can. The man looks wholly surprised to see her, but then he's paddling even faster, and Annie laughs without meaning to.
She groans as soon as she pushes herself back up, coughing up a mouthful of water.
She's decided that the ocean no longer makes her nice, and that she's going to kick Finnick Odair’s sorry ass as soon as she stops coughing.
Annie whirls around at the sound of Finnick resurfacing, looking almost guilty if it wasn't for that huge grin still on his face.
“You oka—”
Annie uses both hands to splash another wave towards the man, grinning when he immediately starts sputtering, doubling over just like how she had a few seconds ago.
“I'm doing great, Finnick!” Annie calls out before she's diving away all over again, surfacing a good twenty feet away from the man.
Finnick just scowls at her for a second, and Annie feels her heart soar a little when he dives back under the water, all very clearly making his way to her.
It's the most unlikely experience of her entire life, and Annie can't find it in her to care for even a second. She's far too busy enjoying all of it to even think about just how unusual it all is.
She thinks she could get used to this. Annie thinks she could get used to Finnick Odair.
“Annie! You've got a visitor!”
Annie is so unbelievably annoyed about being yelled at first thing in the morning, but she rolls out of bed nonetheless, entirely unenthused and miserable.
Her mom doesn't even spare her a look once Annie is there, just opting to make a vague motion towards the door. Annie doesn't roll her eyes despite desperately wanting to, mostly because she already knows damn well that her mom will somehow manage to see it.
“Did you even check it?” Annie asks as she keeps walking, pausing before she opens the door. “Or are you just assuming?”
“It's absolutely for you,” her mom assures her, still not looking literally anywhere near her or the stupid door.
Annie rolls her eyes this time, opening the door, and—
“Hi,” Finnick Odair says, beaming at her. “The beach?”
Annie stands there for a second before she laughs, grinning without meaning to. “You hunted me down to go to the beach?” Annie asks, planting a hand on her hip as she tilts her head, eyeing the man.
Finnick just holds up his hands in some sort of mock plea, sheepishly ducking his head. He's grinning the whole time though, which is a clear sign to Annie that he's not actually feeling guilty in the slightest. She’s already well aware of his typical song and dance. “I figured it was worth a shot.”
“Fine,” Annie says, though she doesn’t think she’d have said no for even a second. She loves the ocean and the beach and everything relating to it. She’d go even without Finnick Odair, and she was planning on going without the man, actually. But she doesn’t mind him. Not really. Annie turns back to her mom, who simply gives her a look. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” Annie announces. “I’ll bring back something from the market.”
And then she’s out of the house, shutting the door softly behind her. Finnick grins at her all wide, his eyes sparkling in the early morning light.
“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” Finnick admits, pushing his hair back out of his face. “Given, you know,” he waves a hand, glancing up at the sky. “You know.”
“How it’s five in the morning?” Annie easily shoots back, bumping into his shoulder as she brushes past him, already heading off towards the market. She doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that Finnick’s trailing her — his footsteps are soft, but she can hear them if she focuses just a little harder. “You’re lucky that I’m nice, Finnick.”
“I know,” Finnick says, his tone not even slightly joking. Annie pauses, glancing back over at him. “What?” Finnick asks, almost looking genuinely surprised. “You are nice.”
Annie hums, looking at him for a bit longer. “I was joking, you know that, right?” Annie asks back, arching an eyebrow. “About you being lucky.”
“Of course,” Finnick agrees, lying right through his teeth. Annie doesn’t push him though, opting to just turn back around and keep walking. She already knows enough about Finnick to understand how he works — pushing him too far isn’t going to do any good for either of them. He almost shut down entirely when she even mentioned the Capitol just a little too much. “We’re going to the market?”
“To get food,” Annie tells him, striding up the wooden pathways that twist all around Four. “I didn’t have breakfast. Did you?”
“No,” Finnick admits.
“Exactly,” she hums back, already eyeing one of the stalls she usually goes to as it comes into view. She didn’t really bring any money with her, but Annie’s all very certain that it’ll be fine. She’s haggled with less. “The beach’ll still be pretty empty by the time we’re done eating,” Annie adds on, glancing back at him. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Finnick shrugs, looking unbothered. “I don’t mind people at all. I’m going back to the Capitol in a few weeks, anyways. I figured it might matter more for you,” he admits. “Spending time with me where people can see.”
“People don’t bother me, either,” Annie tells him, pausing as soon as they get into the market. “They won’t harass me over it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Stay here for a sec,” Annie says, stretching her arms above her head. “I’ll be back with breakfast.”
“I have money,” Finnick offers, raising his eyebrows. “Plenty of it, really. I don’t use it for anything. I can get breakfast.”
“And I’m already moving,” Annie announces, grinning at him before she turns and strides off, already approaching the stall in question. She grins just a little harder at the huff that clearly comes from Finnick, though she forces her face to relax as soon as she gets up to the stall. “Marlin.”
“Cresta,” Marlin says back, voice just as gruff as usual. He’s a sixty year old man who’s refused to die for the past five years that Annie’s been fighting him on his prices. Annie’s well aware that he likes her, not like he’d ever admit it, and it isn’t like she’d ever admit to not hating him. “What can I do to make you leave?”
“Give me breakfast,” Annie suggests, tilting her head up a bit. “I know you were already at the beach today, Marlin. I want something fresh.”
Marlin snorts, giving her a firm glare that means nothing. “And where’s my money for that?”
“It’s on the house today,” Annie very helpfully tells him, grinning this time at the wide-eyed look he gives her, as if she hasn’t done this about a million times already. “Come on. I’m trying to feed two people today.”
“Two of you?” Marlin hums, scrunching up his face. “What poor soul’s been infected by you?”
Annie jerks her head back to Finnick, watching as Marlin’s eyebrows shoot up. “You wouldn’t let two kids starve, would you?”
“I’d let you starve,” Marlin decides, which doesn’t mean anything at all, given how he’s ducking down under his stall to very obviously grab breakfast. “That poor boy’s already got enough on his plate, don’t he? I’d bet real good money that he doesn’t need your influence.”
“I somehow think that he’ll make it,” Annie says with a shrug, smiling at the imagery of Finnick showing up on her front porch just a handful of minutes ago.
“Doubtful,” Marlin snorts as he plants down an already-wrapped pair of sandwiches onto the stall counter. Marlin gives her an awfully pointed look, and Annie helpfully returns it back tenfold. “Be good to that boy. He’s already got enough shit goin’ on for him to have to deal with you on top of it.”
Annie rolls her eyes, but she raises her hands up in mock defense. “I definitely think he’ll make it, but noted,” she says, grinning even harder at the glare Marlin shoots her. “Thanks, Marlin. I’ll make sure to come back tomorrow so you can see me again.”
“I hope you drown, Cresta!” Marlin shouts after her, and Annie grins as she flips him off over her shoulder, not sparing him a second look.
She laughs at the look Finnick’s giving her, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly, arms crossed against his chest as he gives a subtle nod over to the man.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Annie immediately tells him, bumping into him again. She presses a sandwich into his hands, already starting the trek back down to the beach. “I got us breakfast. You’re welcome.”
“My hero,” Finnick teases. “At the cost of your life, it seems.”
“Marlin likes me,” Annie assures him, waving her free hand. “He just pretends like he doesn’t.”
Finnick laughs, ducking his head when he does. “Didn’t he tell you to drown?” He asks a second later, looking back up at her. His eyes still sparkle a little, catching the light of the sun. Annie’s almost impressed with how Finnick doesn’t look away, even despite the sun very clearly hitting him right in the face. “Now, I could absolutely be wrong, but I feel like that’s more of a threat.”
“Call it whatever you’d like,” Annie offers, grinning back at him. “I got us breakfast either way, didn’t I?” She asks, smiling at the way Finnick holds up his hands again, ducking his head as he nods his agreement. “He’s known me for five years. He likes me.”
“I'll take your word for it,” Finnick says, very clearly not believing her. Annie just rolls her eyes, dutifully ignoring him. “Thank you, though. For breakfast. For breakfast yesterday, too.”
“Anytime,” Annie tells him and means it. “Like I said — I do good in the markets. We've got plenty,” she pauses as soon as Finnick opens his mouth, quickly clicking her tongue at him. “I get that you're rich. But the food’s going to be there either way. Just up to you if you want it.”
Finnick laughs, shaking his head. “Okay, Annie. Thank you.”
“No big deal,” Annie says back, shrugging. She unwraps her sandwich, smiling a little at the fact that it has salmon. She's mostly bought salmon from Marlin, and she can't help but grin at how he totally does like her. “Do you like salmon?” Annie asks, taking a bite of her sandwich immediately after.
“A lot,” Finnick agrees, doing the exact same as her. “I might like halibut more, maybe. Lobster, too.”
Annie hums, taking another bite before she answers. “Haven’t had lobster in forever,” she muses. “What about crab?”
The look on Finnick's face makes her laugh, giving him a look. “What?” Annie presses. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I simply don't like crab,” Finnick says, shrugging. “That's all.”
“That's absolutely not all,” Annie immediately disagrees, knocking his shoulder with her own. “Tell me.”
“I already did!” Finnick insists, a stupid grin on his face. “I just don't like them. Is that so hard to fathom?”
Annie snorts, rolling her eyes as hard as she can. “Maybe it'd be less hard to fathom if you didn't look like you just got the shit scared out of...” she trails off, eyeing him again. “You're afraid of crabs.”
“I'm not.”
“You are,” Annie says, slowly grinning at him. “You absolutely are. Did you get pinched as a kid?” Annie presses again, laughing at the way Finnick looks entirely away from her. “You did, didn't you?”
Finnick heaves a sigh, tossing his head back for a second. “I was five and I stepped on two of them at the same time, and it hurt. It hurt a lot, actually, believe it or not. They're evil,” Finnick declares with such sincerity that Annie can't help but laugh at him again. “They are!” He insists. “Have you ever been pinched?”
“No, because I can actually see,” Annie helpfully lets him know. “They're bright red, Finnick.”
“I was five!” Finnick argues, as if he's trying to remind her. Annie is absolutely aware of that part in his story — she just doesn't think it's actually a good enough excuse.
“Doesn't seem important,” she muses quietly, grinning at the offended scoff that gets her. “You’re, what, seventeen?” Annie asks, laughing at the slow, miserable nod of Finnick's head. “You've had twelve years to figure it out? Finnick.”
Finnick groans, tossing his head back all over again. “It's not my fault!” He argues, giving her a look. “What are you afraid of? I guarantee crabs are not that unrealistic.”
“Hurricanes and tsunamis,” Annie easily announces, arching an eyebrow at the man. “I think those are far more terrifying than crabs, Finnick.”
“Annie,” Finnick says her name like a plea, and it makes her laugh even harder. “You know what? I'm going home.”
“Already at the beach, Odair,” Annie shoots back, grinning at him. “Seems a bit too late to head back now, doesn't it?”
Finnick gives her an exasperated look, scrunching up his face all miserably. He's given away by the brightness in his eyes, though. “I'll do it,” he warns, in a tone that makes it very obvious that he won't actually be doing anything. “I will.”
“You showed up at my house,” Annie tells him, arching an eyebrow. “You asked for me. You should've known this was going to happen,” she teases, spinning back around to keep walking towards the beach, taking another bite out of her sandwich.
Finnick is quiet for a second. Quiet in the way that Annie has learnt to recognise. She pauses, turning back around to give him a look.
“Sorry,” he eventually says, blinking, as if coming out of some sort of trance. “I didn't...” Finnick trails off, waving a hand. “Got lost in thought, I guess.”
“Maybe stop thinking so much,” Annie offers, not meaning for it to come out as mean as it does. But Finnick just laughs, ducking his head, and so she figures that she didn't fuck up with that too much. “I'm serious,” Annie adds on a second later. “We're going swimming. No need to think for that.”
“I guess so,” Finnick says, looking a little less skittish. “Do you want the rest of my sandwich?”
Annie stares at the supposed rest of the sandwich, which is actually more like a full sandwich with maybe one or two small bites taken out of it.
“No,” Annie tells him. “Wrap it back up. You can have it later. It's not going to go bad in a few hours.”
“I might not—”
“Just wrap it up,” Annie tells him again, a little firmer this time. She holds out her hand, smiling when Finnick puts the sandwich in her palm. “Thanks. Hopefully no crabs end up getting too close to it...”
“Annie!” Finnick immediately groans, and it makes her laugh. He's grinning now, looking far more at ease.
Annie simply raises her hands up, grinning at the scoffs it gets her. “I'm just saying! It'd be a real shame, really. I know that you're deeply, deeply horrified by them. I'll toss them back into the ocean if you want,” Annie offers, beaming at how Finnick scowls at her. “Maybe if you see me launch one across the beach you'll be less scared of them.”
“And more scared of you, maybe,” Finnick shoots back, rolling his eyes. “I’d be terrified if you punted a crab across the beach. Please don't do that.”
“I might,” Annie says, pretending to not see the glare Finnick gives her. “I guess you'll just have to hope for a crab-free beach today, Odair.”
“The odds have never exactly been in my favour,” Finnick says with a sigh, letting his head loll to the side.
“Maybe today they will be,” Annie offers, shrugging. “I guess we'll just have to see.”
She watches as Finnick smiles, his eyes sparkling, catching the light in an awfully pretty way. “I guess so, huh?”
Annie smiles back, unable to help herself. She thinks she likes him a hell of a lot more than she could've ever possibly expected herself to, and she isn't really complaining in the slightest.
Annie gets incredibly used to Finnick Odair’s presence incredibly fast.
He shows up on her doorstep the next day.
And the next.
And then again after that.
So Annie's sat out on her front porch this morning, back propped up against the railing. She brought out a container of fruit alongside a bag, figuring that they'll probably head on down to the beach today, just like they have for the past five days in a row now.
Annie isn't surprised at all when she hears footsteps, turning her head and grinning at Finnick, just as expected. He stands there for a second, looking a little stunned, before he grins back at her.
“Am I that obvious?” He asks, coming to sit across from her, immediately drawing his knees up to his chest.
“You're pretty obvious,” Annie agrees, pushing the container over towards him. “Sorry that I had to be the one to break it to you, Finnick.”
“Better you than anyone else,” Finnick says, shrugging as he picks at the fruit. “Can we just...” he trails off, scrunching up his face and looking away. “Sit here, maybe? Not for long,” Finnick assures her, as if Annie needed reassurance over that. “Just for a bit.”
Annie shrugs back at him, drawing one of her knees up to her chest. She rests her arm over it, tilting her head to the side. “We can sit here all day if you want.”
“Cool,” Finnick smiles, and Annie can pretty easily see how tired he looks. She raises an eyebrow at him, a sign that he's gotten real good at recognising, which makes him sigh. “I'm fine,” Finnick tells her, and Annie doesn't believe him for even a second. Which has to show, because Finnick sighs, holding up his hands. “Really, I'm fine. I swear.”
“You swear?” Annie presses, unimpressed by his bullshit. She's learnt a hell of a lot more about Victors in these last five days than she has in the past sixteen years of her life. And she's mostly realised that this Victor in particular is nothing more than a slightly more annoying teenage boy.
Annie has never been one to roll over and play nice, and she's all too accustomed to pressing and pushing and figuring shit out. She's gotten very good at taking care of people in the ways that they need, and she's figured out Finnick Odair pretty damn well. She's confident that she understands him well enough to get him to at least give her some vague truth without him going off the deep end.
“I swear,” Finnick agrees, his shoulders slouching just a little. “I'm tired. Couldn't sleep,” he continues, his voice softer. “You know. Nightmares.”
Annie hums, completely unsurprised by that. “Does anything help with them?”
“Sometimes,” Finnick offers, shrugging again. “I haven't really figured it out, I guess,” he pauses, scrunching up his face. “They’re usually fine. I just get tired.”
“Well,” Annie starts, smiling when he slides back the container. “Let me know if you figure anything out,” she says. “You could stay over if you want. Or I could stay there,” she offers after a second of consideration. “I have older brothers. I'd imagine that they'd be worse.”
Finnick laughs, his head falling to the side as he grins at her. “I'll take your word for that one. I wouldn't mind,” Finnick says after a moment. “If you came over.”
“Cool,” Annie grins at him, popping a raspberry into her mouth.
She doesn't say much of anything else, opting to just sit there with him in the rising sun, passing the container of fruit back and forth between each other. It's nice, Annie thinks. All of it is nice.
Annie wouldn't say that she's necessarily attached to him in any sort of way. But she also can't help but admit that Finnick Odair is undeniably charming in some sort of way. She's pretty much deduced that this is Finnick, not the unbearably insufferable persona he puts on for the Capitol.
She isn't surprised by that, though she's irritated at herself for being fooled by it for even a second. Annie's pretty certain that Finnick wouldn't blame her for thinking that either, which just makes her more irritated. He's a good actor, but above that, he's genuinely just sort of sweet. Kind. He's very obviously understanding, and Annie likes that about him.
Annie watches as Finnick stretches out, letting his head thunk against the railing behind him. “I live in the Village, by the way,” Finnick announces with his head tilted all the way back. “I moved there after everything.”
“Do they make you?” Annie asks, knowing well enough that it's a touchy subject for him. But she also knows that he knows he doesn't have to answer — she's made that abundantly clear to him about a million times over.
Finnick slowly moves so he's looking at her again, though he quickly goes to staring at the floor. “No. But I didn't have...” he trails off, going quiet. “There wasn't any reason for me to stay,” he says, simply.
Annie doesn't fully understand what he means by that, but she gets that it means a hell of a lot more than just what he's saying. So she just nods, passing the container back to him after a second.
“I'm sorry,” she says. “My house is always open,” Annie reminds him. “If you'd like a reason.”
Finnick just smiles at her, looking away all too quickly. He nods, though, and Annie figures that that's the best she'll get from him right now.
She doesn't say anything to him for as long as they sit on her front porch, but she doesn't mind that much, really. It's nice. Annie likes being out here with him well enough, and she figures that he probably likes not having to talk about shit all the time, especially not the Games.
So she keeps passing that container back to him, purposefully making sure that he's eating more of it than her, and she doesn't mind it for even a second.