Original Prompt (anon): Prompt- Effie is at Haymitch's house and he drops a drink on her her dress so she has to wear one of his shirts? Thank you:p
There weren't many things that Haymitch enjoyed about life.
He was a misanthropist, really. The only time he ventured out of Victors' Village (or his house for that matter) was when the liquor ran out. Most people in the district probably forgot he was still alive and he was convinced that if he did ever quit breathing, nobody would really care anyway.
He disliked people, anyway, so he didn't care that they didn't care. He would much rather be left to his drinking in peace. He especially disliked annoying women and one annoying woman in particular.
He was upstairs when the first call came from outside the front door but he passed it off simply as the wind.
It came again and with some insistent knocking on his door, too. He didn't have to see them or hear the voice to know who it was. Effie damn Trinket.
He pulled himself out of his chair taking the glass of scotch with him. He would definitely need it.
Once on the landing, he set the glass on the bannister and took a deep breath debating whether to let the vexatious thing in or not.
"The door's open," he called down the stairs and then felt like punching himself as the exuberant and rather windswept escort entered his home.
She sighed loudly and brushed a few strands of her wig back into place.
"You should really lock your door."
"Yes, I should." Haymitch said with a smirk only to receive a scowl of disapproval. "What do you want?"
She moved so that she was stood just underneath the upstairs landing.
"That was awfully rude. Would you like to rephrase that, perhaps?"
Haymitch shrugged.
Again she sighed and took a moment to collect herself. "I am here because it is reaping day tomorrow."
"So why are you here today?"
"To check up on you, of course. Nobody has seen you in weeks and Mayor Undersee was worried for your welfare. Besides, I thought you might appreciate a visit."
Haymitch rolled his eyes. "I would appreciate it if you left."
Effie clicked her tongue and moved out of sight. Haymitch lent over his bannister.
"Where have you gone, woman?"
There was a pause. "Do you have any tea?"
"No, I don't have any tea. And don't go making yourself at home either. I'm alive, you can leave now."
She came back into sight empty handed. "It is really very rude not to offer your guest some hospitality. A drink, something to eat, polite conversation."
He snorted. "Since when has 'polite conversation' been my forte?"
"Well perhaps you could learn. No time like the present, Haymitch!" She replied, each syllable dripping with an unhealthy level of optimism.
Then, she began to make what must have been her take on polite conversation. He tuned out almost immediately as she began to babble on about her fabulous Capitol lifestyle. His head was hurting and Effie Trinket was doing nothing to help.
In his boredom, he found his eyes wandering to rather inappropriate places on her body – the low-cut dress leaving little to nothing to the imagination, or at least not at this angle anyway.
Truth be told, she probably wasn't a bad looking woman though it was hard to tell with all the garish makeup and wigs fit for use as feather dusters. She wasn't in bad shape either, she had a good figure and really nice-
"Haymitch!"
He heard his name and forced himself to stop thinking about Effie Trinket's assets.
"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?"
"Sure, you were just talking about…your friend Petunia."
She huffed in frustration. "That was five minutes ago, try to keep up!"
Off she went again.
Haymitch sighed loudly and began to wonder how hard he would have to hit his head against the wall to knock himself out.
Effie stopped talking for a moment. "Could you please come downstairs? My neck is beginning to hurt."
He rolled his eyes and began to turn. "Of course, anything for your royal-"
His elbow knocked the glass on the way down and sent it tumbling to the floor. It hit with a loud smash.
He took in the sight of Effie then, stood still as a statue, arms held out by her sides. Drenched.
"-Shit." Haymitch muttered under his breath knowing that it was only a matter of time before she would explode.
Luckily, he had the advantage of already being upstairs meaning that it took him barely any time at all to scramble into his bedroom and stand, his weight against the door, awaiting his impending disembowelment.
"Haymitch!"
He heard her heavy footfalls on the stairs and voice getting louder with each yell of his name.
"You let me in this room this second or, so help me, I'll-"
"Oh, you'll what sweetheart?" He was intrigued to hear her answer.
"I'll – I'll burn every bottle of liquor you have in this place."
He chuckled to himself. "Go for it, this whole place is a powder keg. You'll send the whole district sky high – including yourself, especially wearing that dress."
"You are not funny, Abernathy!" She tried furiously to turn the door knob.
He heard her sigh and fall against the door. "If you don't let me in I shall have no choice but to stay here. All night."
"What?!"
"I can't very well go outside in this weather with a wet dress on, can I? I could catch pneumonia."
"There's an idea," Haymitch muttered under his breath apparently not loud enough for her to hear as she continued to rattle on.
"Also, I could finish my story. I'm sure you would enjoy it."
He groaned. "Where's my drink?"
"All over me." She replied a little too quickly for his liking. "Let me in, Haymitch. I'm soaked to the skin and it is rather an unpleasant feeling."
He rolled his eyes. "And what do you propose I do about that?"
"You could lend me something of yours to wear?"
"No way, sweetheart. You're not wearing my clothes."
"Why not?"
He paused and ran a hand across his face. "I don't see why you'd want to anyway, it's not like they've been washed recently." Or at all for that matter, he added silently.
"Hm-" she said, taking a moment to consider. "I don't care. I'm starting to feel like a Christmas pudding."
"Haymitch-"she whined when he didn't reply, holding onto the word for as long as possible it seemed.
"God dammit woman!" he reluctantly conceded and stood away from the door. "Stop your whining."
She pushed open the door and stood before him and, for the first time, he saw just how much of a state she was in.
The pink satin dress was definitely the worst hit; the amber stains having seemingly travelled upwards as well as down through the tiny groves the fabric. Whatever chemical used to set the colour on the candy coloured wig had been removed completely, letting concentrated areas of pink gather around the brown of the alcohol. She really was going to kill him.
"Thankyou," she sighed and wiped away a drop of whisky from her forehead that had come from the swamped hair atop her head. She licked it off the tip of her finger.
Haymitch slumped down on the bed opening a bottle of liquor from his bedside table and he watched as Effie rummaged through the draws of his dresser.
"You know, it is almost impossible to find anything in here. The draws are very confused. You need to have designated draws for each item of clothing. Shirts in one, trousers in another."
"Why?" Haymitch questioned. "So that it is convenient for you to find my clothes every time I spill a drink on you."
"Exactly," she smiled winningly pulling out a light blue shirt that was evidently to her satisfaction. She moved into the bathroom, closing the door to.
Haymitch tried to ignore the fact that through the small gap between the door and the frame, Effie was completely visible. Any gallant or polite fellow may have told her that the door was still open and for her to shut it, but Haymitch, being neither of those things, kept his mouth closed.
He tried not to let his eyes linger for too long as, for the second time in the space of around ten minutes, he caught himself looking at Effie Trinket.
When she emerged a few minutes later, clad in light blue, for the first time in a long time, Haymitch was speechless.
"You look – uh –"
He took in the sight of her, real blonde hair falling at her shoulders
"Ridiculous? I know. Laugh away." Her gaze was sullen.
"You look…nice."
She smiled warmly. "Thankyou."
There was a sufficiently awkward pause to break up the conversation.
"You should change," Effie began. "You have a little…" she trailed off and gestured to a spot just under her shoulder.
Haymitch looked at the same place on his shirt and smirked knowingly. "Ah, vomit. Never could control the stuff."
He laughed to himself as he saw Effie visibly cringe at the sight.
He stood and crossed the room to where she was stood by the dresser and ushered her out of the way as he opened a draw and pulled out a shirt.
Effie moved again as to let him get to the bathroom but Haymitch simply pulled the soiled shirt over his head then and there.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she flailed around for a moment before turning away completely.
Haymitch pulled the new shirt over himself.
"Was that really necessary?" asked Effie, taking her chances and turning back around.
"Well, I'm just returning the favour, sweetheart."
Her look of confusion invited his laugh to intensify.
"You know you really should close the door properly before you change."
"But I did-" she stammered.
Haymitch shook his head. "Could see right through that little gap."
"Oh, could you?" she questioned sarcastically. His smirk answered her question. "Could you?!" she asked, this time much louder.
Haymitch laughed openly as she began to hit him feebly against his back and arms.
"You disgraceful man!" She yelled as she left him alone in his bedroom.
Yes. Annoying Effie Trinket was definitely one of the few things about life that he did enjoy.