Disclaimer: I own nothing, blabla...
This is a short headcanaon of mine. It takes place just before the reaping in CF. English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes.
Thank you to Akachankami for helping me betaread it (and keeping it not complicated).
Peacekeepers Don't Knock
The streets of the Victors village were swarming with Peacekeepers, Haymitch could hear the heavy stomps their feet made when they paraded from the Everdeen's house to his. It wouldn't be long before they came to march him to Katniss or Peeta's house, it woud be easier for them to make sure none of them try to run if they were all together. Run… It was too late for that, now. He was desperate for a drink but there was none to be found in his house, despite his best attempts.
He had been wandering from one room to another since dawn but the search for alcohol was an excuse. In truth, he was committing the house to memory. He had hated it with passion for years but now that he might never see it again, it felt like a little piece of home. A dirty home with a pungent smell of filth and littered with dry-empty bottles of liquor but home nonetheless.
He was about to slump on the couch to wait for the Peacekeepers to storm in when the knock came. A strong, business-like sort of knock that left him frowning. He was sure no Peacekeeper would bother to knock. Humoring them, he opened the front door not as surprised as he should have been to find Effie Trinket on his doorstep, complete with wig, make-up and outfit, the Peacekeepers forming a wall of guns half-raised behind her.
He waved at himself before she could even utter a single word. "Sober, clean and dressed. Happy at last, sweetheart?"
If her pout was anything to go by, she wasn't happy. He wasn't prepared to be firmly pushed back into the house by an unexpectedly strong hand or see her slam the door in the Peacekeepers' face.
"Look, I've got nothing else to wear and I don't really care, so…"
She threw her arms around his neck and before he had time to understand what was happening he was locked in her embrace. Tentatively, he put his hands on her waist and hugged back, letting his head fall on her shoulder. He felt something loosen inside of his chest and realized he had been starving for human touch since the Quarter Quell announcement.
He wanted to make some sort of joke about that behavior not being very proper or how she might finally be able to get rid of him, but when she stepped back, he couldn't manage more than a fake smirk. Her eyes were bloodshot as if she had cried on the train. When she spoke, her voice held none of her usual cheerfulness. She was serious, grave. It didn't suit her.
"If I draw out your name…"
"I don't blame you."
It was weird how quick the reassurance came to his lips, he had never been one for reassurances.
"I will." It's only a whisper but it hit him right in the chest.
"Don't."
They were standing so close together he almost rose his hand to stroke her cheek. Almost. They were always dancing this odd dance together, right on the edge between fondness and desire, and they always found easier to stay on the bickering, antagonistic side of that line. But on that day, Haymitch was tempted to cross the ridge. He was tempted to just say damn to it all and kiss her, just for the hell of it. Just because he could. Just because he wanted to.
The door slammed open before he could take that step forward. Peacekeepers didn't knock and he was left pondering on missed opportunity.