𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎'𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐱 𝐎𝐅𝐂

(x). so kiss me the way, that you would, if we died tonight

It's midmorning when Katniss opens her eyes again. Peeta's still out beside her. Above them, a mat of grass suspended on branches shields their faces from the sunlight.

She sits up and sees that Finnick's hands have not been idle. Two woven bowls are filled with fresh water. A third holds a mess of fish.

Finnick sits on the sand, skinning them with a knife.

"They're better skinned," he says, ripping a chunk of flesh off the fish and tossing it into the bowl. His eyes are still puffy but Katniss pretends not to notice.

Her stomach begins to growl at the smell of food and she reaches for one. The sight of her fingernails, caked with blood, stops her. She had been scratching her skin raw in her sleep.

"You know, if you scratch you'll bring on infection," Finnick tells her.

"That's what I've heard," Katniss says.

She stands up and goes into the saltwater to wash off the blood, trying to decide which she hates more, pain or itching.

Fed up, she stomps back onto the beach, turns her face upward, and snaps.

"Hey, Haymitch, if you're not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin."

It's almost funny how quickly the parachute appears above her and she reaches up and the tube lands squarely in her open hand.

"About time," Katniss says, but she can't keep the scowl on her face.

Haymitch.

What she wouldn't give for five minutes of conversation with him.

She plunks down on the sand next to Finnick and screws the lid off the tube. Inside is a thick, dark ointment with a pungent smell, a combination of tar and pine needles.

Katniss wrinkles her nose as she squeezes a glob of the medicine onto her palm and begins to massage it into her leg. A sound of pleasure slips out of her mouth as the stuff eradicates her itching. It also stains her scabby skin a ghastly gray-green.

As she starts on the second leg, she tosses the tube to Finnick, who eyes her doubtfully.

"It's like you're decomposing," Finnick tells her.

But the itching wins out, because after a minute Finnick begins to treat his own skin too. The combination of the scabs and the ointment looks hideous and Katniss can't help herself from enjoying his distress.

"Poor Finnick," Katniss says. "Is this the first time in your life you haven't looked pretty?"

"It must be. The sensation's completely new. How have you managed it all these years?" He asks.

"Just avoid mirrors," Katniss tells him. "You'll forget about it."

"Not if I keep looking at you," He replies.

"I'm going to wake Peeta," Katniss says.

"No, wait," Finnick interjects. "Let's do it together. Put our faces right in front of his."

Well, there's so little opportunity for fun in the arena so Katniss agrees.

They position themselves on either side of Peeta, leaning over until their faces are inches from his nose, and give him a shake.

"Peeta. Peeta, wake up," Katniss says in a soft, singsong voice.

His eyelids flutter open and then he jumps like they've stabbed him.

"Ahh!"

Finnick and Katniss fall back in the sand, laughing their heads off. Every time they try to stop, they look at Peeta's attempt to maintain a disdainful expression and it sets them off again.