65th_victor | (no subject)

They were supposed to be watching the announcement for the Quarter Quell. But they weren't. Instead, they were in the house in Victors' Village that they practically claimed as their own, filling up more and more of the living room over the years went by. There was still little there that marked it as personal, but it was certainly comfortable now, especially compared to when they had first started breaking in, sitting on the ground with only a blanket.

Finnick knew they would get into trouble if anyone found out that they weren't planted in front of the televisions with the rest of the country, listening intently to the president's announcement. He could feel these games cresting upon them both already, threatening to drown them. He didn't know why -- perhaps it was because this was the first Quarter Quell that he was old enough to be involved in, or perhaps it was because it had now been 10 years since his own games (17 dead District Four tributes and Annie), or maybe it was really because of Katniss Everdeen. He'd watched with a cold sense of disbelief from a club as she won her Games. He'd been waiting for the boy from One to kill them both, because it was too much to carry someone that injured through so much of the Games, and Twelve never beat One. It had been such a mathematical certainty in his head, that he was certain he had been more surprised than the rest of the country when they managed to not only outlast One, but then to trick the Capitol.

But it wasn't really a trick, because they all paid for the things they took. You never stole from the Capitol. You took your life from the Games and you spent the rest of it paying in kind. That was the unknowing deal they made. So, yeah, maybe he was dreading seeing this couple show up in the Capitol this year.

And maybe they were only putting off the inevitable of whatever horror this announcement was going to bring. (It brought a cold chill to his insides to think of mentoring four kids versus two), but he would take that small amount of time with Annie, where they were will protected and with each other.

He was balanced in between Annie's legs at the moment, mostly teasing her with his tongue, fingers balanced underneath her knee and on top of one of her hips.

Threaded | Flat

The Games were the absolute last thing that Annie ever wanted to think about on any day, but it seemed especially so on a day like this one. The Capitol would have them cower and kowtow, would have them sit calmly while they were again forced to acknowledge their own powerlessness. As if Annie wasn't already intimately acquainted with the bleakness of her reality every time Finnick got on that damned train.

He'd be back on that train soon enough, back to the Capitol for whatever hell they'd concocted for that year's tributes. Now, though, she didn't want to think about where he'd be in a day or a week or a month, she only wanted to think about him here, now, with her. Forced denial and living in the moment were the only ways she stayed sane, the only things that let her forget even for a little while. She knew; she'd had lots of practice.

The small fantasy they'd begun when they'd first broken into this house had grown, become a whole separate world. Here, she could step through the door and be a different person. Here, there was nothing but the two of them.

Leg hooked over Finnick's shoulder, she arched back, fingers tangled in his hair, not bothering to quiet her breathless little whimpers.