Disclaimer: As much as I wish I could claim that I do, these characters do not belong to me. The only thing I can take credit for is the writing. Slightly AU Katniss/Haymitch. Katniss is seventeen at the time so possible underage sexytime depending on where you live. No likey, no ready!
A/N: I have completely re vamped this chapter as of 20th September, so if you've read this before please re read it! It would mean a lot if you could let me know if you like the changes etc, so please leave a review if you do read, new or returning!
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Katniss rubbed at the fresh bruises on her neck, a reminder of Peeta's attack. She bit back the tears, locking her front door behind her. Walking the ever-familiar path to Haymitch's house, she concentrated on her footsteps on the freshly laid snow. Counting each one and listening closely to the noise it makes as it breaks the white snow.
Sure he would already be drunk, she let herself in with the spare key he had given her and let the latch fall as she stepped inside. Katniss slipped her father's hunting jacket off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Sitting beside her mentor, she wordlessly took the liquor bottle out of his hands and began to drink.
'Hard day, sweetheart?' he slurred, clumsily brushing one of the brown curls off of her face. Haymitch traced the splattering of freckles across her cheek with his forefinger before quickly removing his hand, running it instead through his own hair. He coughed to clear the awkward silence that hung in the air and took the bottle from her hands.
Katniss's head began to spin, the unusual sensation playing with her mind. She stretched her arms out in front of her and let them fall, laughing at how strange such a simple movement felt under the influence of alcohol. Unaware of Haymitch laughing at her drunken state, she stood up in an attempt to retrieve the bottle sat on the window ledge, before falling over his outstretched leg.
This time, she heard his chuckle fill the room and turned towards him to throw a colourful mix of language in his direction. Only half playfully, she thumped the side of his arm, her own limbs feeling much heavier.
'That the best you can do sweetheart?' Haymitch teased, his hand reaching out to catch her wrist as she attempted to strike him once more, and pulled her to sit by his side again.
She felt herself getting steadily drunker and her inhibitions began to slip away as the spirit level lowered. Katniss rested her head on Haymitch's shoulder and breathed in his familiar scent, a delectable mix of alcohol and aftershave.
He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arm around her bony shoulder, pulling her tiny frame flush against his chest. The comforting gesture felt strangely nice to her, unlike the staged kisses between herself and Peeta in the arena. His arms still showed the ghost of the young victor from the fiftieth Hunger Games. Though alcohol and years of neglect has clearly taken its toll on his body, he is still strong, and the muscles on both his arms and chest cradled Katniss's skinny body.
A strangled sob caught in her throat, and in a sudden mood change, all of the emotions of the day that she'd been determined not to show bubbled up to the surface. 'He's never coming back to us, is he?' she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
This time, when he used her nickname, it didn't sound sarcastic. 'No, Sweetheart, I'm sorry'.
Memories of both the arenas clouded her mind. The first kiss that made her want more. The moment when Haymitch reminded her she could do much worse. And the moment she wondered how she could ever do better. Each memory causing more tears to spill down her cheeks as she realised how much she cares about the boy with the bread, much, much too late.
As she cried, Haymitch wiped the tears off her cheeks and rested his forehead against hers, their eyes both filled with hurt. In a desperate attempt to heal her pain, and why not admit it, because he needed the comfort too, he closed the small gap between them and kissed her.
He let the hand from her face and rest on her waist before he pulled away and closed his eyes waiting for her response, desperately hoping he wouldn't hear to door slam as she runs away from him.
All the time his eyes were closed, Katniss stared at him, studying his face properly for the first time. She let her eyes roam across the light wrinkles across his forehead and the stubble on his square jaw. Seeing him like this, she noted how vulnerable he looked, and despite the tragedies they'd experienced together, this is the first time she'd seen him appear scared.
That alone triggered something inside of her, and surprising both of them, she pressed her lips to his and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He suppressed a guttural moan, keeping his right hand on her hip, pinning her in place as he kissed her. For someone who had only kissed a boy she pretended to love and her best friend, Haymitch was surprised with the passion in her kiss. As their tongues joined, he noted how they both tasted of alcohol and how their lips fitted around each other perfectly.
Their kisses deepened and Haymitch pulled her onto his lap, a knee either side of his strong thighs. Under his touch, her nerves calmed. His hands slowly worked their way under the material of her shirt, rubbing circles on her back.
As their lips danced together, Katniss couldn't help but notice the difference between this and the other kisses she had experienced. Haymitch had all the fire of Gale's kiss, the protection of Peeta's arms and something that was completely his own. Understanding, and the safety that she hadn't felt since Prim's name was pulled out at the first reaping.
Never breaking eye contact, Haymitch began to lift off her shirt, exposing the scars from both years of hunting and The Hunger Games. Scars and all, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and her vulnerability made her incredibly sexy. She looked away from him, biting her lip and resisting the temptation to childishly fold her arms over her chest, covering herself from his glances.
The confidence the liquor had previously given her started to slip away and the insecurities she felt at the fact she would soon be naked for the first time in front of a man overtook her.
Katniss closed her eyes and kissed him once more, pressing her torso back to his, blocking his view but finding comfort at the feel of his heart beating at the same rhythm of hers. As her confidence began to grow, she found her own hands wandering just like his had.
Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. His body is just as scarred as hers, but age has been surprisingly kind to him. The muscles that she felt through his clothes are well defined and tight, his rippling stomach covered with a fine down of blonde hair that Katniss quickly ran her fingers through.
Her lack of confidence is soon replaced by pure lust for Haymitch and simply the want to see more of his body. Katniss's nimble fingers unfastened the zipper on his pants and pulled them off of his legs, leaving him just in his underwear. Standing in front of him, she stared into his eyes and pulled him into her arms once more.
As her arms wound their way back around his neck, he effortlessly lifted her off the ground and kissed the soft skin at the nape of her neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling their bodies closer together. 'Like I was going to let go' Haymitch scoffed.
Without breaking their kiss, he carried her upstairs and laid her softly down on the middle of his double bed. Running his fingers down the length of her arms, he took both of her skinny wrists in one hand.
Laying between her thighs, both of them now in their underwear, Haymitch looked into her deep grey eyes once more. This time when their lips met, they both knew this was the kiss that would lead to the something more they were both aching for.