A/N: First of all, I don't own anything. Sometimes, I get this sudden urge to write, but I never know what to write. Occasionally, I'll ask for prompts but that never works out. For a few months now, I've been plotting out a story with plot and chapters and such. Well, that doesn't work for me. At all. Instead you'll just get these short little stories which may or may not be connected. No plot, no set story line. Just me typing about my favorite couple whenever I feel like it. I'm not the best writer, obviously, but I hope you like this.

For whatever reason, people seemed to be under the impression that Haymitch hated Effie.

He never hated her. No, he was quite fond of her.

He loved how much she cared for the children and himself. No matter how drunk he got, no matter how much he embarrassed her in public, no matter what he said to her, she still took care of him. She made sure he had a glass of water and medicine every morning and that he was tucked into bed when he would pass out in random places. He also loved how she could put a happy spin even the worst of situations and she herself always seemed to have a smile on her face (except when they were alone, when she was alone, or when she thought no one was looking).

It wasn't her that he hated.

He hated her clothes, her pointless make up, and the place she called home. He hated what she represented. Her presence meant the death of two more children from his home. It wasn't her fault they died, but he wouldn't let himself forget that she chose this profession.

It was a constant battle in his head. One he was no where near drunk enough to sort out at the time.