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Annie turned to the door as she heard the familiar knock. Finnick had a specific pattern that he would use to communicate that it was him, and she was safe.
“Coming,” she called, hurrying to the door.
When she opened the door, he was waiting with a genuine grin, hands hidden behind his back.
She tilted her head. “Finnick,” she said softly.
His hair was cast in his face, messier than usual, and his dimples were apparent.
Looking at him brought a smile to her face.
“I brought you flowers,” he said eagerly.
She stepped back to let him come to the door. “How come?”
“I need a reason?” he teased.
She shook her head lightly and accepted the flowers. “I guess not. Thank you for the flowers. I love them.”
He muttered something that she thought ended with “you.”
“What did you say?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
She smiled lightly and took his hand. His hand was shaking, she noticed. She traced her thumb against the palm of his hand.
“Hey, are you okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Yes.”
She pursed her lips. “You sure? You seem nervous.”
“No.” He swallowed. “No, I’m not nervous.”
Giving his hand one last squeeze, she asked, “Did you eat today?”
He scratched the back of his neck. She was sure that he was lying about not being nervous, but as much as she didn’t want him to be in pain or hurting, she liked this side of him. The part of him that didn’t act like a cocky playboy who was perfect in every way.
He wasn’t perfect, and she loved that about him. Well. Love was a strong word. She did love him, she decided firmly. Her heart sped up at her realization, but there was no other way to put it.
She was in love with Finnick Odair in the same way that she breathed. There was no going back.
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her, drawing her back to real-time. How long had it been before he spoke?
She placed her hands on her hips. “How dare you tell me what to do, Finnick Odair? If I want to worry about you, I will worry about you.”
He let out a low chuckle. “Only you can make such a sweet thing sound like such a threat.”
“Don’t change the subject. Have you eaten today?”
He shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “But hey, pretty boys don’t need food, eh? No one cares about their weight as long as they’re not fat or anything close to it.”
She bit her lip. “That’s not something you joke about, Finn. I take it that you chose not to eat lunch?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
“No,” she responded drily. “You have to eat.”
“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll eat later when I’m back at my house. Are you really so eager to get rid of me?”
She tilted her head to the side. “You know that I’m not. And you’re not going to wait to eat. We’ll make some food now.”
He arched his eyebrows. “Us? You do know what happened last time we did that, right?”
“Pfft.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “That was one time. Okay, maybe twice.”
“Annie, my love, we nearly burnt your house down.”
Her eyes searched his. “What did you say?”
His eyes widened. “Um.”
“It’s strange to see you so speechless,” she teased. Inwardly, she was holding back panic. There had never been any confirmation between the two of them that they even liked each other, but they both knew.
In this world, it was dangerous to confess their feelings. It was better to just pretend they didn’t exist.
At least for them.
But it was getting harder and harder with each passing day.
“We should go cook,” he suggested, his lips curling into his familiar smirk. “Let’s just hope that we don’t burn anything this time.”
Her eyes narrowed, and his change of subject didn’t evade her. Did he not mean it, or did he not want her to know yet?
Or was he trying to hide it from someone else?
From Snow.
“Alright,” she relented. “Operation Feed Finnick is a go.”
“Fine,” he agreed with a grin, following her to the kitchen.
“What do you suppose we should make?” she asked. “Is there anything in specific that you want?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be happy with anything so long as I’m eating it with you.”
She smiled up at him. “You flirt.”
“Only with you,” he responded. They both knew that wasn’t true. “I only mean it with you,” he amended.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Of course he didn’t mean it to all the Capitol people. That was all just an act.
She knew that.
But he genuinely meant it with her?
“We can make soup and biscuits,” she suggested. “Mags gave me a recipe for that.”
He gave her a sweet smile. “Then soup and biscuits it is.”
She took the recipe card from her small stack on the counter. “I think it’s pretty simple. You can start on the soup, and I’ll work on the biscuits.”
“But how do you make soup?” he pointed out.
She laughed. “You read the recipe.”
“Ugh, but that’s so much work.” His teasing grin showed her that he was joking. “I’ll go ahead and start.”
She went to work at the biscuits as he started the soup.
They could do this.
Mags would be proud of her for making him eat, even if that resulted in her struggling to make a meal instead of having leftovers.
Anything for Finnick.
It was worth it if it meant he had something decent to eat.
To be fair, she could probably handle eating more than old leftovers and fish as well.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said while working. She hadn’t intended to speak those words, but she didn’t take them back. She meant it.
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he responded.
“Wait, Finn, before you go any further you need to wear an apron,” she commented, noticing them on the hook. Mags had made her a few.
He sighed. “I suppose. If it makes you happy.”
“It makes me very happy,” she told him, bringing him her most flowered apron. She only had three, but it was definitely the best option.
He looked very cute in his apron.
“Oh, you’re stirring it wrong,” she pointed out as she noticed him stir the soup. Even she knew that you didn’t stir by dipping the spoon in the soup then removing it, et cetera. “It’s a wonder you survived the Games.”
He froze slightly, and she berated herself for bringing them up. If she was to have a sudden topic of her Games brought up, she would likely go into full panic mode and lose herself to flashbacks.
It was a miracle how well she was doing today.
Finnick kept her grounded.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have to make soups,” he pointed out lightly. “I ate fish. Besides, it’s not my fault. The recipe says nothing about how to stir.”
She pursed her lips and said nothing more about the Games, instead opting to move closer to him.
She moved her arm around him, placing her hand on top of his. Everywhere her hand touched his burned. She helped him do the stirring motion, hesitant to move away.
He turned his head to look at her, their faces so close that she could feel his breath.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
She dipped her head in a nod. “Of course.”
Still, her hand hovered over his.
Realizing how long she had been holding his hand, she cleared her throat loudly and moved away.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I have to work on cooking the biscuits. They shouldn’t take too long. I’m almost done making them, and the recipe says that it will only take like twenty minutes to cook.”
He didn’t answer, intently stirring the soup. Part of her wished that he would mess up again so she could help him.
She was the last person to be helping someone cook, but still, somehow, she wanted to help Finnick.
Around half an hour later, the food was finished and set at the table.
The food they made must not have been so bad, because he ate it all. Either that or he was really hungry.
She wondered when the last time he had eaten before this. She would make sure he ate every single day if that was what it took to get him to eat.
“You have a crumb on your face,” she informed him softly. He moved to wipe it away, but he didn’t get the right place.
“Here,” she said, leaning closer and brushing the crumb at the corner of his lips away.
“I guess I’m not the perfect Capitol boy after all,” he joked, his voice tinged with a hint of rawness.
“That’s a good thing,” she said firmly.
Hesitantly, she moved forward, drawing her finger across his jaw, giving him enough space to move away if he wanted.
He didn’t.
Her lips grazed the corner of his lips, right where the crumb had been.
He pulled her in tighter, his fingers grasping the back of her shirt. His cheeks grazed pink, and he buried his face in her shoulder.
“Are you blushing?” she asked, tangling her fingers in his hair.
“No,” he responded, his voice muffled by her shoulder.
“I’m pretty sure you were blushing,” she pointed out.
He lifted his head from her shoulder, and before she could make further commentary on his pink cheeks, he tilted her chin toward him and connected their lips.
All thoughts instantly vanished from her mind, and her eyes fluttered closed.
The only thing she could think about was Finnick’s lips on hers.
It was soft and sweet, and everything that Finnick really was. The truest part of him. Not his Capitol version.
And she liked this version a whole lot better.
When she pulled away for desperate need to breathe, she rested her forehead against his.
“That was…”
“Amazing,” he finished. “I love you, Annie. My love.”
His words caused electricity to shoot up her veins.
“I love you,” she returned. “I love you.” She laughed. “I can’t believe I’m finally saying this. I can’t believe it’s real. Is this real?”
“It better be,” he answered, “or else I’m going to be very disappointed when I wake up.” There was a slight pause before he added, “Yeah, it’s real.”
“Wow. I… Wow. You love me.”
“I love you,” he echoed.
“Mags is going to be so happy when she comes home,” Annie commented, a light grin pulling at her lips.
Finnick placed another kiss, this one short, on her lips. It still caused Annie to lose all sensibility in just that short second.
“She is,” he agreed.
Her eyes dropped to his hands which he was currently wrangling. “Hey,” she told him, “what’s the matter?”
She took his hands in her own.
“I’m scared,” he admitted. She might have been the only person he would admit that to except maybe Mags. “We love each other. You love me. I love you. But we can never be together or else Snow will kill you.”
She brushed her finger against the back of his hand gently. “Hey. It’ll be okay. We can stay a secret. I doubt that he would kill me just because you love me as long as you’re discreet about it. If the Capitol doesn’t find out, we’ll be okay.”
“I don’t want to risk you getting hurt,” he murmured. “You mean the world to me. I don’t know what I would do if he took you from me.”
“He won’t,” she promised, though she knew she couldn’t fully promise that. “For now, don’t worry.”
She rose to her tiptoes and connected their lips. It was different, the feeling of being kissed and kissing.
She loved both.
She loved Finnick.