Why, hello there, doll. If you know me, you're probably glad to know I'm writing something OTHER than pokémon. AMEN TO THAT. And new readers, I'm glad to meet ya. Hope you enjoy my style. Humor is my strong point, but it's my first time writting something that doesn't fit in the Adventure genre. I've made this for the enjoyment of the fans of the HG series, and I can satisfy your needs.
So, here is my first Hunger Games fanfic! As the summary says, this is about Haymitch's new family member, an idea that belongs to my best friend. Originally, she was gonna do her fic first so that it wouldn't look like I was stealing her idea, which I'm not, our plots are totally different, but to this date she hasn't written a single word and I've had this thing saved for over a week, so I've published. Sorry, dear Phoenix.
Warnings: Post-ending, spoilers and swearing. Lots of swearing.
LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
Of Whiskey and Ribbons
Chapter I
Worst. Hangover. Ever.
I feel like crap. My head hurts and my throat is burning. Last night is a total blur, which isn't a surprise. Now I have to crawl out of bed because my bottle is empty. Maybe I'll begin the day with some whiskey.
I groan as I sit up. The damaged clock on the wall reads three. "That's odd," I mutter to no one in particular. Usually, if I'm not up by noon, either Peeta or Katniss, preferably the boy because afterwards he makes me cookies, comes to dump cold water on me. Since that's yet to happen, I conclude there must be only one reason. Katniss is having weird cravings. Again.
I'm just done dumping last night's dinner into the toilet when I hear something. It sounds like a giggle, but it could be just my head ringing. My ears have never been very reliable during my hangovers. I drag myself out of the bathroom after a quick, cold shower, something I've been forced to add to my routine by the lovely couple next door.
I don't want any lunch, not like I can cook, anyway. I slump on the couch, ready to spend the rest of the day suffering a hangover. Just how much did I drink last night? And how did I end up in that going-out outfit? I must've climbed onto bed right away.
The cushion provides little comfort for my head. I groan. And then there's a noise again. Another giggle. And it's closer, louder. It's totally my head. Just my throbbing head. Totally just the alcohol messing with me.
When I open my eyes, I feel them widen. I see a child, tiny, with dark skin, entering the hallway bathroom. It's gone in seconds, and I rub my temples. Now my mind is creating images. But that can't be right, because when I open them again, I see the kid entering my room with a piece of toilet paper stuck to its shoe. I hear the door close, and my breathing quicken.
I spring to my feet and run to the phone. I dial the only number I've bothered to memorize in the last few years.
"Afternoon, Haymitch. Did you sleep well?" Peeta asks. I notice he sounds tired, probably after another restless night of cooking bizarre things for his wife. Yet, he never rejects a conversation.
"Boy, I just woke up and I think there's a kid in here."
"Drunk already, are you? Didn't you just get up?" he laughs lightly, and I feel like crushing the phone in my hand. For the love of…I've learned to stay sober in the afternoon! And it took years of practice to pull it off!
"I am not drunk! I swear I saw and heard a kid!" I growl. Just as I do, the dark skinned kid walks casually into the kitchen, grabs a lollipop from the candy jar under the sink, and walks away humming a tune. My head feels like exploding now! "It just took a lollipop!"
"Calm down, you must be hallucinating," Peeta reassures. "What'd you have last night? White liquor, wine, vodka?"
"I don't remember. It's blurry," I groan. I seriously can't think about last night with the image of the kid still fresh in my mind. You're hallucinating, I tell myself. No brat could make it into your house and live.
"Well, maybe you should come over," he invites me, but I know he just wants me there for support, not to help me. Fortunately for him, I'm so freaked out about the hallucinations that I think handling Katniss will be a lot better than staying here. "My mother-in-law can whip up something for you. I'll see if she's-"
"Peeta Mellark, who are you talking to?" Katniss bellows from wherever she is, loud enough for me to hear clearly. I don't need to see to know Peeta's flinched. "Is she pretty?"
"No, no, honey, I'm talking to Hay-"
"So she's not pretty? YOU TWO-TIMER! I bet she's loaded!"
I hear a thud, probably Peeta being shoved into the wall. The phone hangs in the air for a millisecond before the beast picks up.
"Who the fuck is this?"
"It's Hayley," I say in a faked girly tone. Even the effort makes my throat burn, but this is about as amusing as my day can get, so I pull it off. "You must be Peeta's mother. A pleasure!"
"Listen, bitch. When I find out where you live, I will mutilate you in every way possible for corrupting my sweet, sweet Peeta!" Now, Katniss is crying dramatically.
"Sure, come get me in District Five. I live just next to the Justice Building, and remember my name is Hayley!" I hang up afterwards, too satisfied to worry about anything else. Soon, I hear a door slamming, and rush to the window above the sink. I can see an infuriated Katniss walking into the street with Peeta following behind. I open the window.
"I'm going to kill her! I will mutilate her!"
"Honey, there is no Hayley. That was just Haymitch being an ass!" Peeta tries to explain. I breathe in satisfying fresh air. "Come back inside. I'll make you cookies."
I don't hear an answer. In fact, she's not standing there anymore. Neither is Peeta. And then they're knocking on my door. Great, I think, company. I forgot to lock it last night, so they storm in like they own the place. Peeta slumps on the couch, apparently giving up, and Katniss marches up to me.
"Not funny, Haymitch. Do you think it's easy dealing with these mood swings?" Katniss glares at me, then motions to her body. She's dressed in an oversized shirt, probably Peeta's, that reads 'Want fries…' on the front and obviously says '…with this shake?' on the back, wrinkled shorts, and surprisingly new sandals. Her dark hair looks tangled, like she just got out of bed. I don't doubt that. To top off this beautiful image, there's her bulging stomach indicating she's five months into pregnancy. "They're not healthy for the child," she says.
Her voice, and all other noise, gives me a headache. Everything is ten times louder, so painfully louder. I try to tune everything out, but even so, I hear that high pitched voice clearly ask, "Papa Haymitch?"
Lame first chapter is lame. But hey! I had to make it short. If you start a fic with a long chapter, you're screwed, because the rest of your chaps will be expected to be long. I usualy write long ones. But not this time. The smaller they are, the faster I'm done!
Hope you liked it! Chapter two is ready for publishing, but won't be up until I receive at least 2 reviews. Be kind :3 Also, I need your honest opinion: should I raise this to M? It's got heavy swearing and alchohol use, so it qualifies. Plus some content that I'll add later on (NO, NO LEMONS FOR YOU, DARLINGS).
By the way, I'm fully aware Haymitch yanked off his phone long ago. But hey, it's been years, so in my fic, he has a new phone. Doesn't use it much but still. I'm sticking to canon as much as possible. I even have a strict rule of keeping everyone in character, so if you like that, good.
Flames will be used to roast my marshmallows. Farla will be ignored. So please, R & R!
ALL HAIL DA QUEEN!