Add this to the list of things I said I'd never do and did anyway.
Title: Bucket List
Author: nhpw
Rating: T
Word Count: 790
Pairing: Finnick Odair/Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen
Category: Angst/PWP I guess?
Summary: One-shot. On the roof of the training center, Katniss witnesses a private moment between Finnick and Peeta.
Warnings: Sexual situations (non-explicit), voyeurism, spoilers for "Catching Fire"
Notes: This is my first Hunger Games fic, and I'll confess to having only been through the trilogy once, so I apologize for any inconsistencies. Not beta'd, so any errors are mine.
Three nights before we’re to be sent back into the arena, I go looking for Peeta only to find he’s not in his room. I pause a moment outside the door, frowning and trying to think where else he might be. He had a rough day today - struggled quite a bit while practicing throwing knives and axes at a target - and if he wanted to relax and truly escape from it all, there’s only one place he might be.
I find him as expected, on the roof of the training center, but I am surprised to see he’s not alone. He’s sitting on the ledge, feet dangling over the side, and another well-built male sits beside him. Finnick, I think, and they’re engrossed in conversation and don’t appear to have heard me come up. Their backs are to me, and in the dying light, I can barely make them out, sitting casually, occasionally tossing a small ball over the edge. But I can hear them just fine.
“It won’t work this time,” Peeta’s saying as I settle into a good hiding place. “They’ll only let one of us out alive.”
“If even that,” Finnick agrees. They don’t look at each other - they’re just staring off into the nothingness of space ahead of them. “The way that card was worded, I sometimes think it’s their intention to kill all of us.”
Peeta shakes his head. “No,” he says, still not looking at Finnick. “This time I’ll swallow those berries if it means she gets out alive.”
Me, I think. He’s talking about me.
Finnick just nods, and I know it’s because he’s not willing to make any such concession. He won’t die to protect me, or Peeta, or anyone, because if he does, that means he’s dead meat. “You’ve already accepted it, haven’t you? That you’re not coming back this time.”
Now it’s Peeta’s turn to nod. “Just do it quick, OK? If it comes down to the three of us. Make it quick, and make sure she’s not watching.”
“And then she’ll kill me for sure.” There’s a bit of sad laughter in Finnick’s tone, and he doesn’t give a direct response.
Silence falls over them, and they toss the ball for awhile - one of them throws it down, and the other catches it when it rebounds off the force field. I’m about to turn and go back downstairs, leaving them to their quiet reflections, when I hear Peeta ask out of the clear blue, “What’s sex like, Finnick?”
Laughter appropriately bubbles from the older man, and my eyes pop open, big as saucers. “What, you and the girl on fire haven’t danced the dance already?”
“No.” Peeta’s reply is barely audible, and from the way he’s looking at his lap now, I can tell he’s embarrassed - either by the question or the admission or both. “And now it looks like we’ll never get the chance.”
“You could do it in the arena,” Finnick suggests, a hint of a smile in his voice. “Give the folks in the Capitol a real show.”
Peeta laughs lightly at that. “If it wouldn’t be a show for our parents as well, I might think about it. Katniss needs to keep a bit of innocence about her for the cameras, I think.”
“Sure.” Finnick’s nodding, and he goes quiet, and there’s a moment where absolutely everything is still. Then he turns his head and looks at Peeta in profile. He waits for Peeta to look back, and then he kisses him, slow and soft. Then he lays Peeta back, and for all that they didn’t look at each other when they were talking about the arena and killing and death, now, neither can look away.
And then Finnick loves Peeta, right there on the roof of the training center. All of Finnick’s movements are deliberate and slow, gentle, like he’s guiding Peeta through a dance, and after the initial shock of seeing their silhouettes join together, I retreat, because I know I’m bearing witness to a private moment that I’m not supposed to see, that neither Peeta nor Finnick will ever talk about.
But two days later, when Peeta tells Ceasar Flickerman about the baby, my mind shoots to Finnick, who’s smart enough to put the pieces together and know Peeta’s lying. I have just enough time to ask him, in the aftermath of our little victor rebellion, why he didn’t turn us in for it. Well, sort of. I’m able to get out a hushed, “Why?” and somehow he knows what I mean.
“Because,” he says, resigned. “You’re young. You deserve a chance to have that for real.”
And you don’t? I want to ask, but I turn my head, and he’s gone.
Author: nhpw
Rating: T
Word Count: 790
Pairing: Finnick Odair/Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen
Category: Angst/PWP I guess?
Summary: One-shot. On the roof of the training center, Katniss witnesses a private moment between Finnick and Peeta.
Warnings: Sexual situations (non-explicit), voyeurism, spoilers for "Catching Fire"
Notes: This is my first Hunger Games fic, and I'll confess to having only been through the trilogy once, so I apologize for any inconsistencies. Not beta'd, so any errors are mine.
Three nights before we’re to be sent back into the arena, I go looking for Peeta only to find he’s not in his room. I pause a moment outside the door, frowning and trying to think where else he might be. He had a rough day today - struggled quite a bit while practicing throwing knives and axes at a target - and if he wanted to relax and truly escape from it all, there’s only one place he might be.
I find him as expected, on the roof of the training center, but I am surprised to see he’s not alone. He’s sitting on the ledge, feet dangling over the side, and another well-built male sits beside him. Finnick, I think, and they’re engrossed in conversation and don’t appear to have heard me come up. Their backs are to me, and in the dying light, I can barely make them out, sitting casually, occasionally tossing a small ball over the edge. But I can hear them just fine.
“It won’t work this time,” Peeta’s saying as I settle into a good hiding place. “They’ll only let one of us out alive.”
“If even that,” Finnick agrees. They don’t look at each other - they’re just staring off into the nothingness of space ahead of them. “The way that card was worded, I sometimes think it’s their intention to kill all of us.”
Peeta shakes his head. “No,” he says, still not looking at Finnick. “This time I’ll swallow those berries if it means she gets out alive.”
Me, I think. He’s talking about me.
Finnick just nods, and I know it’s because he’s not willing to make any such concession. He won’t die to protect me, or Peeta, or anyone, because if he does, that means he’s dead meat. “You’ve already accepted it, haven’t you? That you’re not coming back this time.”
Now it’s Peeta’s turn to nod. “Just do it quick, OK? If it comes down to the three of us. Make it quick, and make sure she’s not watching.”
“And then she’ll kill me for sure.” There’s a bit of sad laughter in Finnick’s tone, and he doesn’t give a direct response.
Silence falls over them, and they toss the ball for awhile - one of them throws it down, and the other catches it when it rebounds off the force field. I’m about to turn and go back downstairs, leaving them to their quiet reflections, when I hear Peeta ask out of the clear blue, “What’s sex like, Finnick?”
Laughter appropriately bubbles from the older man, and my eyes pop open, big as saucers. “What, you and the girl on fire haven’t danced the dance already?”
“No.” Peeta’s reply is barely audible, and from the way he’s looking at his lap now, I can tell he’s embarrassed - either by the question or the admission or both. “And now it looks like we’ll never get the chance.”
“You could do it in the arena,” Finnick suggests, a hint of a smile in his voice. “Give the folks in the Capitol a real show.”
Peeta laughs lightly at that. “If it wouldn’t be a show for our parents as well, I might think about it. Katniss needs to keep a bit of innocence about her for the cameras, I think.”
“Sure.” Finnick’s nodding, and he goes quiet, and there’s a moment where absolutely everything is still. Then he turns his head and looks at Peeta in profile. He waits for Peeta to look back, and then he kisses him, slow and soft. Then he lays Peeta back, and for all that they didn’t look at each other when they were talking about the arena and killing and death, now, neither can look away.
And then Finnick loves Peeta, right there on the roof of the training center. All of Finnick’s movements are deliberate and slow, gentle, like he’s guiding Peeta through a dance, and after the initial shock of seeing their silhouettes join together, I retreat, because I know I’m bearing witness to a private moment that I’m not supposed to see, that neither Peeta nor Finnick will ever talk about.
But two days later, when Peeta tells Ceasar Flickerman about the baby, my mind shoots to Finnick, who’s smart enough to put the pieces together and know Peeta’s lying. I have just enough time to ask him, in the aftermath of our little victor rebellion, why he didn’t turn us in for it. Well, sort of. I’m able to get out a hushed, “Why?” and somehow he knows what I mean.
“Because,” he says, resigned. “You’re young. You deserve a chance to have that for real.”
And you don’t? I want to ask, but I turn my head, and he’s gone.