So I was watching a TV dancing competition and this stupid idea appeared in my head. I don't know whether it'll continue, but I enjoyed writing this first chapter.
Most definitely my favourite AU I've ever writted because the idea of Haymitch Abernathy being forced to dance is hilarious to me. Just an FYI; Panem is still the same, with the Games and Haymitch's past as a Victor, except Effie did not become an escort and ended up becoming a dancer instead.

Disclaimer- The world of this story and the characters do not belong to me and all rights go to Suzanne Collins. Any characters of my own creation will be specified within the author note at the beginning of the chapter(s) in which they are featured.

EFT x

The lights were almost blinding. The heat from them were already causing Haymitch to break out in a sweat and he hadn't even commenced the routine yet. But that was nothing compared to the clothes he was in. The materials that made up his shirt and pants felt so constricting, he was almost certain his circulation would be somewhat compromised by the time he was allowed to change. At least he could be thankful that there wasn't a sequin in sight on his outfit. The other men he'd seen in the competition were decked out as if the dress code was 'the Capitol at Christmas'. At least the ridiculousness of it all provided some amusement within the horrible predicament he'd found himself in two weeks ago.

It had started with a phone call. A television agent in the Capitol had called Haymitch whilst he was at home in 12 and informed him he was to appear on Panem's second most popular show after the annual Games. The show revolved around past victors and relatively well-known personalities learning how to dance. They'd each be paired up with a professional dancer who would show them the ropes and hopefully get them to win.
Outwardly, the show appeared as an application basis. Each contestant was required to put together a statement on why they applied to appear on the show and what they hope to achieve. Little did the public know, but each contestant, particularly the Victors, were bribed with threats against the people they loved, or faced being imprisoned or killed if they refused.
Realistically, if you were called up to appear on the show, you had no choice but to agree. Public exploitation was a serious source of entertainment in the Capitol.

Haymitch had been flown to the Capitol a week before the initial 'introduction' show was filmed and broadcast. During that week, they assessed his physique and his current abilities to assist with selecting the appropriate partner for him. He outright refused to show the producers how much he knew about dancing, so they were forced to resort to digging out old tapes of parties Haymitch had attended over the years to see how well he danced. The tapes, however, did not provide much worthwhile evidence. Haymitch was a man who enjoyed a drink, therefore the dancing displayed in those tapes didn't exactly give the producers anything to go on.

Soon, the day of the introduction show rolled around. Haymitch was dragged into the studio shortly after 10am and experienced what reminded him of the remake sessions one would experience when first entering the Capitol as a tribute. Seemingly, the remake team's idea was to make him look as unrecognisable as possible from the middle-aged drunk of District 12. They treated and cut his hair, tidied up his stubble and even went as far as waxing his chest, much to Haymitch's agony and trauma.
Better than being locked up for the rest of my life, the voice in his head reminded him constantly.
When the assessors finally examined him before Haymitch was taken to be dressed, they froze at the sight of the scar running across his abdomen, a result of the finale of his Games. They knew he'd refused plastic surgery after the Games, and Haymitch saw the assessor scrawl 'no shirtless performances' down on his clipboard before gesturing to Haymitch to go to his dressing room.

As with a lot of live shows aired in the Capitol, the majority of the crowds visible on screen were actually edited in. Haymitch was thankful for this because, as he stepped out on to the stage with the 11 other similarly disgruntled contestants, there were only around 400 pairs of eyes on him as opposed to the 5 or 6,000 visible on TV.

The contestants were called up one by one, each being paired off with their professional dance partner. Haymitch, being from the furthest outlying district, was called up last whilst it was just himself and one professional dancer left. She was obscured by the bright spotlights, so he didn't get a proper look at her until she was standing right beside him. He saw she was a petite young woman, wearing a short silver dress with her blonde curls pinned up to the back of her head. She took Haymitch's hand and smiled enthusiastically up at Haymitch. The enthusiasm was something he wasn't able to return. He hated this damn situation, no matter how pretty his 'partner' was.

Once they were backstage, he finally spoke to her.
"Didn't catch your name," he huffed, folding his arms across his chest as they stood in the corridor.
"Effie," the woman smiled. "Effie Trinket. Of course, I know who you are! Oh,I was a huge fan of yours when you were-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he interrupted her, holding a hand up. "Listen, Trinket. I'm gonna tell ya straight right now. I have no interest in this shit so I hope you ain't plannin' on stayin' in this competition for too long."
"I'll allow you to keep that opinion for now," Effie said, a stern tone making itself present in her voice. "But I'll soon have you whipped into shape."
Haymitch raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head before beginning to walk away, turning his head slightly to call back over his shoulder.
"Good luck with that, girl."

Effie's demeanour began bright but by the end of the first week of training, she was at her wit's end. Haymitch refused to dance with her for the first five days, instead electing to sit on the floor in the rehearsal room for every single rehearsal session. When he did eventually decide to get to work, Effie was far from impressed. Effie had envisioned him actually being able to move swiftly with some element of grace about him, so she was shocked when he say how clumpy and robotic the few moves she got out of him were. She spent the rest of that particular day lecturing him about appropriate posturing and useful ways for him to loosen his body up to give him a better ability to dance.
Haymitch didn't listen to a single word.

By the time it got to the night of the first proper show, they had a basic routine down which Haymitch could remember most of the steps to. But Effie had deliberately filled at least 40% of the routine with herself dancing solo, so as not to ruin her chances of passing to the second week too much.
As they stood behind the curtain after their names had been called, Haymitch's heart began to pound. Despite their indifferences of the past fortnight, Effie reached over and took his hand. She squeezed it briefly, only dropping it when the curtains were drawn aside and they stepped out onto the dancefloor.