Happy Birthday, Princess
Effie had made the long journey from the Capitol to District 12, to spend her birthday with her team; her real family. Peeta baked her favourite, Strawberry and Vanilla swirl cake with strawberry frosting. Katniss had found an old, gold locket. In one side she put a picture of her and Peeta, and in the other Effie and Haymitch. They coped with what they had, only enough material for only one banner and so they decided against the traditional "Happy Birthday" and instead chose, "Welcome Home."- Haymitch argued a little too eagerly for the latter, surprising helpful with setting everything up. He had given up the alcohol for good, a throw-away promise to Effie that, for some reason, he felt obliged to keep. He now only had a drink on special occasions and this was a very special one.
She cried when she arrived, frightened at what they'd think of her new attire and lack of make-up, happily surprised at the warm welcome she received, she definitely didn't think she was special enough for all this effort to be put in just for her. The "Welcome Home" banner on the door started the first set of tears, the speeches set off another.
They sat around the small table, the cake now half gone, similar to the bottle of scotch she was sharing with Haymitch. Katniss was the first to speak. "Effie, you've been like a mother to me, I can't thank you enough for it. I'm very happy, and honored, to be hosting this birthday for you, and that you wished to spend it with us. Happy Birthday." She hugged Effie lightly, so accustomed to being careful not to crease her dress so she was surprised when Effie pulled her tighter and thanked her.
Peeta and Katniss had retired for the night, leaving Effie to stay at Haymitch's house. Katniss had already made sure that Haymitch's spare room was clean enough for Effie, or any human for that matter, to sleep in. It was just Haymitch and Effie now, she sat on his sofa with her legs underneath her and her head resting in her hand as they started on another bottle of scotch, it was the most relaxed and comfortable he'd ever seen her. "You came back." He stated, taking a swig from the bottle and offering her some.
She shook her head and smiled. "We're a team, it's what we do."
"Hmm" He pondered for a moment before reaching for her hand, holding it in his and brushing his coarse thumb over her smooth skin. "I'm glad you came home."
"Me too" She said softly, never once taking her eyes off his.
Neither of them are quite sure how they got there, but they were stumbling against the wall of Effie's room, Haymitch's fingers linked with hers, as he trailed open mouth kisses along her neck, to her jaw and finally, landing on her lips. The kiss was long and deep but nonetheless soft, passion coating every slow, agonising movement as he traced his tongue over her bottom lip and rolled it between his teeth. Finally, he pulled his lips away from hers to look at her, the real her: natural.
He paused for a moment, marvelling at her soft, bouncy curls and the small smile plastered on her lips. "Beautiful." It was a lazy, slurred murmur, but filled with nothing but truth, before he started to drop wet kisses on her collarbone.
Her breath caught in her throat, she wasn't as drunk has Haymitch but his comment was enough to make her eyes glisten and her head spin. Despite this, she giggled, pushing him away with a gentle hand on his chest. "You're drunk." She broke all eye contact, suddenly self conscious that he was seeing her without the make-up, the ridiculous wigs or the clown outfits. It was her, just her; she had nothing to hide behind and it suddenly made her feel vulnerable. She trusted him implicitly; however she was only now beginning to accept herself without the get-up and something inside her twisted painfully at the thought of him rejecting her.
Even in Haymitch's drunken state, he knew when something wasn't quite right with her. He noticed that she had turned her face from him, twisting her hair around her finger, her eyes down, gazing at her simple clothes; judging herself. He lifted her head, his fingers under her chin, his crystal eyes finding hers again. "Yeah, I'm drunk and you," he paused, allowing his eyes to drop and drink in the sight of her, "you are so beautiful."
"Haymitch," but he interrupted her.
"Tomorrow, I'll be sober." He cupped her cheek and his thumb danced across her lips. "And you'll still be beautiful." He said it so softly she struggled to hear it, believing for a moment that she may have imagined the whole encounter.
He rested his forehead against hers, a smile spreading on his lips as he heard her suck in a small breath of happiness and grin.
"Happy Birthday, princess."