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By the time Haymitch woke up, he found himself alone in bed. It was breathtakingly strange, he mused, how easily he had accustomed to wake up to a warm body every morning – even though the 'every morning' part had only started three days ago – but it was a lot more surprising how fast he was starting to freak out now that he'd realized he didn't hear any sound coming from the bathroom next door.

Effie was a morning bird in all the extension of the word. Back then in the Games era, it used to be the main reason why he kept calling her 'a pain in his ass': she'd wake up at dawn every single day, stuff her beautiful face with that god awful make-up she used to wear and do her best to get him out of his bed, muttering all the way about his – as she so gracefully had dubbed it – drinking habits and more generally lecturing him on how he should or should not behave if he wanted to take one kid alive back to their family that year.

Now, with the Games long gone, the war won, Panem raising from its ashes and them officially trying at something they couldn't before because of Snow's or Coin's ridiculous rules, she had grown a lot more carefree about her strict routines. They were still there, of course – she had taken an administrative job alongside Plutarch and was actively participating in the whole rebuilding thing, so her planning and scheduling skills had come in handy – but at least when she came to Twelve once every three weeks, she tried to keep them at bay as much as she could, and even acquire a few new ones: now, for instance, she'd still wake up at dawn, but only to lock herself in his bathroom and enjoy a good half an hour under the warm shower... which usually would end up with him having his way with her right there, so he couldn't really complain about her waking up before him.

The only times she didn't shower right before starting her day were when she had to back to the Capitol. She'd wake up even earlier, pack her things and then take the shower, so he didn't have the chance to try to make her lose the train either by distracting her in the shower with his mouth and hands wandering in all the right places, or messing around with her belongings as he had done the first time, when she had been naïve enough to let him help her with the suitcase.

So that morning, when he walked into the bathroom and didn't find her there, his blood ran cold. It was stupid, really; he knew she had to go sooner or later that week, but… Just three days? That was worth Plutarch's head on a plate in front of him.

Haymitch didn't even bother with putting some clothes on and pretty much ran downstairs, where he expected to see her already walking out the door with no goodbye kiss whatsoever. Another stupid thought, of course; nowadays, Effie never left his house without him escorting her to the station and trying to stall her by kissing her breathless at every corner. In retrospective, that was also stupid, because they weren't bloody teenagers anymore and public displays of affection had never been their thing anyway. In fact, affection had kicked in just a few years ago, and by then they were too used to hide behind closed doors – otherwise any sign of them meaning something to each other would have caused their death.

The sight of her standing in front of the stove, clad in the shirt he had used the day before, brought him back to the ground and made him smirk in relief. She was so focused on whatever she was attempting to cook – attempting being the keyword here, because the smell suggested that, whatever it was, she had already managed to burn it – that she hadn't even noticed his presence in the kitchen.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and propping his chin on her shoulder to see the mess she was making.

"What does it look like?" she retorted, leaning comfortably against his chest.

"Looks like you're trying to burn down my house…"

That earned him a whack on his forearm.

"I was hungry," she explained in fake annoyance. "And given that you don't have anything edible in this house other than goose eggs, I had to take my chances…"

"It's barely eight," he said, dropping a kiss to her shoulder. "The boy hasn't opened the bakery yet. It's difficult to have food this early in the morning when there's nowhere to buy it..." He kissed her neck. "You collected these yourself?"

"Yes, I did." There was pride on her voice. "One of your birds tried to kill me in the process, but I made it out safe and sound."

"You could try to show them a little kindness, you know... Make them feel you're not a threat..."

"Or you could stock the fridge once in a while so I don't have to risk my life every time I'm hungry..."

Effie froze, realizing what she had just said, and without losing another second she turned around in his arms and put hers around his neck before she kissed him softly.

"I didn't mean it like that…" she apologized.

"I know," he replied and kissed her properly. The memories from his Games and the time before were slowly but effectively starting to fade, and she was almost always careful not to bring them up. He still felt like a change of subject was necessary, though. "But I don't see the point on going all the way down to the town to buy food that's going to rot in the fridge waiting for you to come and cook it..."

"Right, because you're completely useless in the kitchen and are planning on survive only by eating Peeta's bread and muffins..." she joked as he reached out to turn off the stove.

"For your information, the girl makes an exceptional baked squirrel. And by exceptional I mean it's the only thing she can actually cook, so she's excelled at it." He nudged her hair away from her neck so he could plant a kiss there. "But you're right; I'm gonna live out of bread, cake and booze for the rest of my life if you're not here to keep me in line…" His mouth left a trail of kisses along her throat and made it to her jaw. "I've been doing that for the last three weeks, so I have plenty of practice…"

"Yes, I could tell…" She pinched his not-so-firm stomach and giggled when he groaned in response.

"Is that your way to say that I'm getting fat?" He nibbled on the spot right under her chin.

"Is this your way to ask me to stay here with you?"

The moment shifted from playful to serious in a heartbeat. Haymitch lifted his head to look at her directly in the eyes.

"Maybe," he answered.

Effie stared at him for a few seconds with no particular expression in her face and he averted his eyes, letting go of her at the same time.

"Just maybe?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "'Cause if I ask you to stay, you're gonna start weighing the reasons why you should go back to the Capitol against the reasons why you should come live here with me, and I can't risk the cons outweighing the pros…"

She tilted her head searching for his eyes, and when he didn't yield, she took his head in her hands and forced him to look at her.

"I have a life at the Capitol," she stated.

His hands shot to her waist again and he held her tight against him.

"You can have a life here as well..." he said, his eyes fixed on hers now.

"I have a job I really like..." she continued.

"Plutarch can think of something for you to do here. If not, quit and find something different..."

"I have friends who actually care about me and don't see me as a door to success..."

"You can pay them a visit once in a while and make new friends here..."

"People in Twelve hate me, Haymitch..."

That wasn't a lie, but it wasn't completely true either. Yes, some probably would never forgive her for being the one who used to call the names of their innocent children and send them to die in an arena, and yes, some others whispered behind her back that if she was alive now was only because he took her to Thirteen with him to keep fucking her. But most of people just wanted to forget and move on, and they knew she wanted to do that, too.

"Not all of 'em," he said, caressing her cheek. "And even if they did, I wouldn't mind to kick some asses and punch some faces if they dare to touch one hair of your head."

She smiled at that. It gave him more confidence.

"Plus, the kids live here. And they love when you're around," he went on. "And you can deny it all you want, but you love going on picnics to the meadow with us…"

"I don't," she said quickly. "It makes me sneeze and it makes my eyes red and puffy with all the dust…" She gestured in the air to illustrate her point. "I just do it for you to go out of the house for other reason than to get your alcohol."

"I only go out to get my alcohol when you're not here…"

"Because the rest of the time you refuse to leave the bed and forbid me to do so…"

"Exactly."

It took her two seconds to get what he was saying.

"That's blackmail…" she said, suddenly serious.

"You said you liked me better sober…" he retorted, smirking.

"You can't use that as an argument. It's not fair…"

"All is fair in love and war, sweetheart. Last time I played against the Capitol, they won. I won't let them win again. Not at this."

"Haymitch…"

"See? I told you. I knew it wouldn't be that easy, you know, to get you to stay… I knew you would ask for a good reason and then refute every single one I'd come up with… Well, I just gave you a hell of a reason: stay and I stop drinking. What do you have to say about it?"

Effie saw the fire burning in his eyes. If possible, he had tightened his grip on her, and now she could actually feel the hammering of his heart against her own chest.

"I love you," she blurted out. It had been barely a whisper.

It was Haymitch's turn to freeze now.

He hadn't heard those three words – let alone said them – in a very, very long time, and he sure hadn't expected to hear them right now. Because at this point of the conversation, those three words coming from her mouth were both a statement and a challenge.

She wasn't waiting for an answer, he knew that. She was waiting for him to bolt away, to take back his whole speech about why she should stay here with him and go back to the safety of their current relationship.

Safety. Safety was a luxury. He had learnt that long ago and he wasn't sure he could afford it anymore.

"I love you, too."

It hurt. Physically.

It felt like if someone had grabbed his throat, squeezed the words out and then ripped it from his body.

Next thing he knew, she was devouring his mouth with hers, tears running down her cheeks. His hands found the buttons of the shirt she had borrowed, and in matter of seconds he had her propped on the kitchen table, his lips and tongue torturing the skin between her breasts.

"Just to clarify…" he panted as he stopped his ministrations to look at her. "Capitol versus Twelve… Which one gets you?"

Effie sat up and brought him to his feet before kissing him sweetly.

"Home," she said, with a tiny nod.

He didn't need to ask where that was anymore.

I know, I know... I haven't updated in so long you guys probably forgot about me, but I just couldn't pass on this (Hayffie Week is so wonderful!)
I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it and drop me a line!
xoxO,
Liv :)