Finnick and Annie (Short Stories)

Fragile

"Wake up."

"What on Earth, Finnick?" I pull my pillow over my head and try to go back to the sleep I was rudely roused from.

"You need to wake up because I can't do this without you."

"You need me to hold your hand while you change your son's diaper?" I ask both amused and exasperated.

"Don't you think perhaps it's a little too soon to trust me with him?" I push the pillow away and see genuine concern in his face.

"What are you talking about?" Since we brought Caspian home two days ago Finnick has been all over the place. One minute he's over the moon with excitement, the next he seems so worried. "What's going on?"

"What if I drop him?"

"He weighs like seven pounds, I think you can handle it," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"He's so frail. I'm not used to handling delicate things."

"Hmm, I disagree. You're very delicate with me." I smile and press a gentle kiss to his lips. "You need to stop freaking out."

"I can't, Annie... if something happened to him I don't know what I'd do. You're so good at handling him."

"Well, I've had more practice. I had a little cousin that I used to watch over all the time. You'll get the hang of it." He sighs but nods and I reach for his hand. "Finnick. Nothing is going to happen to him."

"I don't know, Annie... things never seem to work out for us."

"That's not true," I whisper, standing up to pick Caspian from his crib. I smile and kiss the baby's head, laying him on the bed to change his diaper. "We're married; we're safe, and we're together. We have a son like we always wanted. What about this isn't working out for you?"

"You know what I mean," he sighs, handing me a clean diaper and some wipes.

"Finn. That was before. Things are different now." He nods because he knows I'm right. I don't blame him for fearing what he loves most will be taken from him. He lost his parents to Snow, and in a way he lost me to the Games. "All you did was so that we wouldn't have to worry about him, remember? So don't."

Finnick smiles softly and picks our baby gingerly from the mattress. He's only a few days old, but I can already see he'll be just like his father. He has his coppery hair, and his dazzling eyes. I watch him as he cradles our son to his chest and whispers to him softly. I can't quite make out what he's saying, so I crawl back under the covers and fall asleep to that scene.