a/n: I don't even know what this is. I wanted to write a modern Odesta Au and the Olympics and Finnick in a skimpy swimsuit, nuff said. This fic is basically a mess but idc.

disclaimer: I own nothing.

let's waste time chasing cars
finnick/annie

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"life can be long or short, it all depends on how you choose to live it. it's like forever, always changing. for any of us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred years from now. you can never know for sure, so you'd better make every second count. what you have to decide is how you want your life to be. if your forever was ending tomorrow, is this how you'd want to have spent it?"

— the truth about forever, sarah dessen

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There are times that he loves being a Victor, and there are times that he doesn't.

Now, with the flash of the camera and the paparazzo asking firing questions at him from all angles like, "Is it true that you're dating silver medalist Olympic archer, Katniss Everdeen?" and "How do you feel about your break-up with Arabelle Snow, grand-daughter of Mr. Snow, one of your biggest sponsors?" He resists punching them all in the nose, just barely, though, because he remembers that if he does, there'll be even more publicity surrounding him . . . like he needs it, though.

Ignoring all the questions and the heat and smell and people of London in the summer of 2012, he fires a quick text to his best friend slash the one person in this world that keeps him sane.

[where are you? —finnick]

Almost immediately, his state of the art, paid for by sponsors BlackBerry vibrates with her answering text.

[i had to duck into a restaurant. the paps are going absolutely mad. the mellarks bakery on trafalgar. —katniss]

Of course, Finnick thinks, a small smile breaking out over his face; Katniss would pop into the closest restaurant — it was that or the alternative, which included several hospitalized paparazzo.

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Luckily, Trafalgar square isn't too far away from here — the opposite, in fact. Just a short taxi ride will do, and thank goodness because the good seems to be getting quite restless and the paparazzo are getting more and more bold in their questions, ("Is it true that you used steroids to capture your win in 100m Butterfly?") and he really does have to get out of there soon, or there will most definitely be some bloodied people.

And he can't be known as the Olympian who takes a spaz and punches some old woman with a video on YouTube that's been seen by millions of people. It'll be like the Michael Phelps debacle all over again, and yeah, Finnick loves (in a totally brotherly way) his fellow team-mate, but the notoriety is most definitely not for him.

"Taxi! Taxi!" he calls as one zooms by. Luckily, the driver seems to hear him and takes pity of him, stopping the car log enough for Finnick to climb in amid flashing lights and screams. "Can you please take me to the Mellark's bakery?" Finnick asks, hoping that the taxi driver won't refuse him.

"No problem, sir," the driver says, his accent thick and quite Irish sounding. "Oi, I know you, you're Finnick Odair."

Finnick manages to give him a tired smile, "The one and only. Do you want my autograph or something, because I can sign the seats and you could charge extra because, you know, it'd almost be like Will and Kate sat in here . . . "

The driver doesn't respond, and Finnick stares up at him — only to realize that he's drinking from a flask. A flash that most definitely, from his experience, smells like whiskey.

"Oh my God!" Finnick yells, breaking the silence of the car, "Are you crazy? You're driving! You could crash!"

The driver, a Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, from the looks of his registration tag, barely bats an eyelash, "Listen, kid, I've been doing this for twenty years, I'm a pro." He finishes the sentence off with a loud belch and Finnick is seriously considering pulling open the door and doing the familiar tuck 'n' roll that he's seen so often in movies.

As if he is predicting Finnick's moves, the lock clicks with an ominous pop and Finnick knows that it's going to end up like those horror movies where they'll find his body in a lake —

[where are you, finnick? —katniss]

[in a car with a madman. —finnick]

[if i don't return, ask the police to question a mr. h. abernathy. —finnick]

[stop joking around! —katniss]

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The sad thing is that he's not joking one bit, actually. "I know you think I'm crazy," Haymitch says from the front, taking another large swig of his whiskey. "Or that I'm some kind of killer. I'm not."

"Oh yes," Finnick mutters under his breath, "Because the word of a drunk means so much to me."

"Drunk words are sober thoughts," Haymitch shoots back.

"So you admit that you're drunk!" Finnick exclaims, "And, apparently, I'm not the only one you've driven while you were drunk — you've been doing it for a whole generation!"

"It helps me forget, okay?" Haymitch says in a whisper from the front. In fact, had the noise of a busy London day been any louder, Finnick doubts whether he'd have been able to hear Haymitch at all. "I've been drinking since my wife . . . Maysilee, what a beautiful name . . . since she — she died."

Finnick sighs, if he'd known that he'd have to play Dr. Phil when he took this taxi, he would have taken the subway. "Uh, I'm not very good with this comforting stuff. There, there?"

Haymitch laughs, a weak one but a laugh nonetheless, "I've gotten so used to the whiskey that, honestly, it's like coffee for me. In completely unrelated news, your stop is here."

Finnick smiles and pays Haymitch his money, before penning a small Finnick Odair, London, 2012 onto the back seat. Free publicity and all.

"Have a nice life, kid!" Haymitch calls as the taxi pulls away.

Finnick stares after him, wondering how much it would take for a person to break like that.

.

The Mellarks bakery is quite comfortable looking, from the outside at least.

On the inside, it is a bit cramped and squashed but still pretty comforting. Although the latter might have more to do with the pretty brunette at the counter with a smudge of flower on her nose and a smile on her face, accentuating her beautiful features.

He's so mesmerized by this woman that he doesn't hear Katniss calling him until —

WHAM.

A piece of bread whacks him on the back of the head, with perfect aim, of course. With a gasp, he turns around to see his best friend, and fellow Olympian, Katniss Everdeen, staring at him with an annoyed expression. Reluctantly looking away from the stunning blond, he makes his way to where his best friend is sitting; eating a croissant like it's the most normal thing in the world.

He can feel people's eyes on him, but, of course, he's used to that. "Hey, Everdeen," he says, giving her his trademark smile; the same smile that could get any female to do anything for him . . . any female except Katniss, that is. "How are you?"

"I can't wait until these Olympics are over," Katniss groans, twirling her silver medal around her hand like it's not a symbol that millions of athletes worldwide would want to own. "Then I can go back to my normal life in Virginia."

Finnick can't help his disbelieving snort, "Are you serious? You actually think that after these Olympics, we'll fade into obscurity just like that? You, my friend, have a lot to learn." Katniss glares at him and stick her tongue out.

Through the corner of his eye, the sunning brunette he had noticed — okay; more like ogled — before was just a table away from them. Involuntarily, he feels his breath hitch.

"Oh my God! That's who you were staring at before! I thought you were just looking at the cookies! You like her!" Katniss exclaims, loud enough for the whole bakery to hear. There's a smirk painted on her lips now, and although it's an improvement to her usual scowl, Finnick hardly notices because . . . the brunette . . . is right there . . .

.

She smiles at him and suddenly it feels like all the air has been knocked out of his lungs. "Hi," he manages, sounding breathless.

"Hello, would you like anything from the bakery, or a hot meal?" she asks.

He doesn't respond, too busy staring at her lips and her enchanting blue eyes and —

He hears a snigger. "Yeah, can you give him some soup, he's a bit love sick!" He glares at Katniss — why now, of all times, does she choose to be witty? — and Katniss gives him an innocent smile back, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" the girl sounds bemused.

Finnick face-palms, rolling his eyes and sending a glare towards the Olympian currently doubled over in laughter at the end of the table. "Can I just have a cinnamon roll, please?" he gives her his charming smile, but she doesn't seem to be the least bit flustered. As she walks away, he gets the feeling that he knows her from somewhere . . .

"That's Annie Cresta," she says suddenly, all laughter disappearing from her face.

Finnick stares at her. "So . . . ?"

"How self-centered could you be, Odair? She was in the Olympics a couple of years ago, Beijing 2008. She was only sixteen when she won gold in 200m Freestyle."

Finnick can't help the little smirk that comes, "My kind of girl, then."

Katniss, however, looks as serious as usual. "No, she isn't. They say that," she drops her voice, "they say that she's mad."

He sputters in disbelief, his eyes going back to the counter where she is excitedly talking to a blond that looks about Katniss' age. "How can she be mad?"

"Her brother drowned a few years ago," Katniss says, lowering her voice even more, "Apparently, Annie and her brother swam into some kind of whirlpool . . . and, well, Annie being an Olympian swam to shore — she evidently thought that her brother had followed her. She hasn't swum since."

"Here you go," Annie says suddenly, seemingly appearing at their table in a flash. Finnick is, once again, breathless as he stares at her.

"I don't care," he declares when Annie has left, "I don't care if she's mad — I like her."

Katniss is staring at him with a strange expression. "Then why don't you go get her?" Her eyes aren't on him anymore; instead she's staring at the blond that Annie was talking to before . . . the blonde is also staring at her.

"I will, then!" he says, more for himself than for her.

Each step towards her feels like a thousand, "Hi, Annie."

She gives him a small quirk of her lips, "Hello, Finnick."

"Would you like to, I don't know, see a movie with me?" he blurts out suddenly.

She looks shocked for a moment, and then she smiles, "Sure."

He tries not to skip his way back to Katniss.

.

On their first date, they go to see the new Avengers film. He doesn't really pay attention to it, just watches Annie and her reactions and he realizes that he's falling hard for this girl that he's hardly known for a week.

He kisses her on the cheek and he can feel the tingles on his lips.

.

On their fifth date, he takes her to the ocean.

He knows that this will only end two ways — it can either go quite well, or it can spiral into disaster.

He, of course, hopes that it's the former.

"Finn — Finnick, I can't, please," she pleads, and suddenly, she is mad once more.

He doesn't love her any less because of it, of course, in fact, he loves her all the more because being mad is what makes her Annie, and Finnick loves Annie no matter what.

"You don't have to," he promises, tracing the contours of her jaw. "You don't have to."

"I'm scared, Finnick," she says, and her voice is as broken as ever, "I'm scared that I won't ever be fixed. I'm scared that I won't ever be loveable."

He kisses both of her cheeks and her nose, "I'll be there, Annie." And he knows that he will be. But before the Games, he was just another vain Olympian — now he is a person.

She takes his hand and they run into the ocean together.

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He tells her he loves her on a warm night with the stars shining over their head and the sound of the ocean in their ears.

She leans into him, like she can't help it and smiles as she says, "I know. I love you, too."

Saying those words feel like the most natural thing in the world.

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On his last night in London, they go to the beach.

There's nothing special about the beach, except Annie and him are there together so it kind of is, special.

She brings a picnic, fresh bakery bread, and they eat it together, watching the sun set over the water.

"When you go back to the US," Annie says in between bites, "Are we — will we be . . . over?"

"No," Finnick says, "And it doesn't matter where I am — my heart will always be with you."

They write their initials in the sand FO + AC and he thinks of how many other young couples have done that; how many of those signatures are buried under the sand.

Have they broken up by now? Are they dead? Are they still alive, old and happy, in some nursing home?

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He screams, "I love Annie Cresta!" from the hill overlooking the beach and he swears that Annie's name goes on for infinity.

He kisses her and nothing in his entire life has ever made him feel so much like a person.

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He once promised himself that he'd never fall in love; that no one would ever matter more to Finnick than, well, Finnick.

Annie, in just a few weeks, has made him rethink his life.

And the thing is, he doesn't regret it at all.

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He kisses her one last time before getting into the taxi that would take him to the airport and away from Annie. He supposes that he could feel happy — at least he'll be back in his element, but he knows that he'll miss his beautiful, mad girl. "Listen to this, Annie Cresta. I will come back for you. Wait for me?"

She gives him a brilliant smile, momentarily dazzling him and he doesn't think that he could ever get used to this, "I wouldn't dream of doing anything else, Finn."

She blows him a kiss which he catches and puts in his shirt-pocket, as cliché as that is.

Right next to his heart, because Annie owns that, too.

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When he gets into the cab, he looks to the front and realizes that his old . . . friend, Haymitch, is there, giving him a smile. "Did you find what you were looking for, kid?"

And for a second, Finnick allows himself to think that Haymitch may not be crazy after all.

"Yeah, I did. She's everything."

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(As the plane takes off, he whispers one more, "Goodbye, Annie," and lets the words float into the air, except he knows they're wrong because he's not saying goodbye to Annie.

Not now, not ever.)

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fin

a/n: I thought of killing Finnick off in a plane crash or something but then I remembered that Finnick's death was just a typo.

I don't even know what that was, okay? But if Regina George can be in the Olympics, then so can Finnick. I don't know about this piece but it's my OTP, so.

I hope you enjoyed that; Hunger Games AUs seem to be my forte. ;)

Please don't favourite without leaving a review, thank you.