This is a Effie/Haymitch one-shot that I decided to write on a whim (much like Forget Me Not). As usual, noncanon/AU warnings stand. Reviews appreciated!

"Haymitch!" Effie shouted, banging loudly on the mentor's door. "Haymitch Abernathy! Open up this instant or I'll—"

The door flew open, revealing a bleary-eyed Haymitch. He'd obviously been sleeping off a hangover.

"What the hell, woman? Door was open, you know."

Effie blanched at the thought of entering without permission. It seemed too much like an invasion of privacy.

"I was just trying to be polite," she said, arching a perfectly manicured brow. "May I come in?"

"Stirring up a ruckus on my doorstep? Is that what's considered polite these days?" Haymitch muttered, retreating into the small structure as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

The District Twelve escort followed suit, quietly shutting the door behind her. She was grateful that Haymitch's back was turned, for a bit of a blush had crept onto her powdered cheeks.

"Have you seen Katniss or Peeta recently? Caesar's going to check in on them soon, and I haven't spoken to either of them in hours," Effie said, hesitantly walking into the makeshift dining room. It was a wonder that she hadn't stepped foot in here even once since they'd returned.

Haymitch was seated at one end of the table, a glass of amber liquid and a half-empty bottle of indistinguishable alcohol in front of him. Effie's gaze flitted from the wooden surface to Haymitch's features.

"Peeta was just here. Katniss is probably off making babies or whatever people in this damned place do to keep themselves occupied," he replied with a snicker, lifting the glass in Effie's direction. "Drink?"

Effie didn't even blink in response to Haymitch's crass attitude; she was adjusted to it at this point. "No thank you," she said, mindlessly wandering over to the liquor cabinet. Most homes had photo frames, knickknacks; Haymitch had brandy and wine, cognac and scotch.

"Does it ever get lonely?" she murmured softly, barely registering that she had spoken the words aloud.

Behind her came the sound of sputtering, and she pivoted around just as Haymitch slammed his glass down. He stared at her in bewilderment for a moment, then slowly stood up.

She wasn't asking if he felt alone; that much was clear from the sheer fact that he was here, drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle.

No, he heard the unspoken words behind her inquiry.

Are you as lonely as I am?

"Effie," Haymitch began, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

That snapped her out of the moment. "I'm sorry," Effie said, clearing her throat. "I don't know what's gotten into me today. I'll be going now."

She made a move to leave, but Haymitch blocked her way. "Yes," he whispered simply.

Effie froze, her eyes meeting his. "What?"

Haymitch exhaled a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't play innocent with me. They're all I've got now, those two kids, and then there's you."

A hint of a smile appeared on Effie's lips. "You know, I've lived my entire life content with the lavish lifestyle, but I'm realizing that it was only because I didn't know any different. I didn't know what I wanted, that is, until now."

"Oh?" Haymitch murmured, stepping closer to her. "Do tell."

Effie laughed, a genuine sound that she hadn't heard in months. It was like music to her ears. "What was it that you said about playing innocent, hmm?"

She leaned back against the dining table, not caring that this wasn't supposed to happen or that Haymitch was half drunk. She just wanted to forget, even if it was just for a little while.

"I imagine this'll be the most fun I've ever had while sober," Haymitch said, smirking as he closed the remaining distance between the two of them.

What?

Eyes wide in surprise, Effie stared at Haymitch. "I thought you…"

It was his turn to chuckle. "Not quite. I hadn't taken a sip yet when you questioned me, and I only choked on air out of shock."

She paused for a moment, processing what he had admitted. "Are you okay with this?" she asked almost shyly.

"Honestly? I don't give a damn about anything else," Haymitch responded, a sly grin curving his mouth upwards. "What about you? That table—"

"—is mahogany," Effie finished, reaching out to Haymitch. "And I don't care."

And then she pulled him down by the collar of his shirt and kissed him.