For anyone who hasn't read Mockingjay, I warn you: Do not read any further.
This is taken from the Epilogue of Mockingjay. I wondered how Haymitch would feel about two children running around the mansion and this is the result. I chose the name for the daughter from the flower her aunt was named for, using "Eve" from Evening like "Prim" from Primrose. The son was a little trickier, though I finally decided on Rotee, based off the flat bread roti, because it is said that Peeta is pronounced like pita bread, so I continued the bakery names.
I do not own anything of The Hunger Games.
I awoke, not to my own accord, but to sunlight streaming through the window. Grumbling and swearing, though mostly swearing, I pull the comforter over my head to block the rays. However, a few more seconds later, I hear screaming, horrendous, painful screaming resonating deep inside my memory and fling open my eyes. Without moving the blanketing shade, I reach my arm out and grope the nightstand in search of my wine from the previous night. When nothing materializes, I curse again, struggling to sit up.
Glancing around the room, I notice a lack of alcohol, and an increase in cleanliness. Moaning, I stumble over to a cabinet and try to open it. When it remains shut, I yell. Nothing coherent, but enough of a noise to bring two pairs of eyes into my doorway.
I hear their low breathing as they fight to act silent. "What do you want?" I demand, turning around. The boy, Rotee, disappears instantly from my glare. The girl remains. "I said, what do you want?"
Suddenly, she smiles. "Good morning, Haymitch. How are you?" She sounds like her father, but acquired the sternness of her mother. Exhausted, and without a drink, I dismiss her as I search for the key to his bottle cabinet. Though I can't quite recall locking it after taking out my final drink for the night. "Are you looking for this, Haymitch?" I turn back around to discover Eve Mellark holding the key to my drugs.
"You damn girl, give me that!" I shout, running toward her. Somehow, I catch over a blanket, the one I nearly stumbled over before, and hurtle down upon the floor. I hear their laughs as they vanish behind the door. Swearing their deaths, I fight to stand up and run to the entrance, glancing down the hall to discover where the brats went. I hear a giggle and barrel downstairs, grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt at the top of the steps.
He yells out for his sister, but she is long out of sight. "What do you think gives you and your damned sister the right to sneak into a man's room while he's sleeping?"
Rotee doesn't look at me, but curls up in a ball as something crashes against the side of my head. I release a grunt of surprise, dropping the boy as he scampers down the stairs to his older sister. I stand up straight, narrowing my eyes as Eve prepares to throw another potato at me. Despite my anger, her choice of weapon amuses me. "Oh, no, don't hit me with another dangerous 'tater!" I exclaim before breaking into laughter. However, I remain alert as I dodge another flying food—this time a piece of bread.
Without missing another chance I fly down the stairs, or rather, stumble until I eventually fall on my ass on the final step. I hear their laughter as I struggle to stand up. Eve leads her brother away, just as Katniss would have led Prim, and they disappear into the kitchen. Groaning from pain and lack of alcohol, I walk into the kitchen to discover that woman from the Hob cooking lunch for the demons. I catch sight of them sitting at the table. The girl raises a quick eyebrow, waiting for my action, while the boy acts completely innocent and unwitting of the entire situation. However, just as I stumble across the tile, Greasy Sae stops me.
"Not another step! I am fed up with you tormenting these poor children." I stare at her in a mixture of disbelief, frustration, and exhaustion. Finally, frustration wins out.
"Poor children? Those devilish things?" However, I get no further as Sae slaps me aside the head with the spoon she'd using.
"How dare you talk about the angels like that!"
"Angels? You must be crazier than I thought!"
"As insane as you are, that's not saying much to begin with."
Growing enraged, I begin blowing up a sea of curses and swears I picked up from my years of experience. After a couple slangs and minutes, the front door opens and Katniss enters from hunting. She steps beside me, tossing a few rabbits and fish on the counter.
"We'll have to start watching our meat. Winter came early this year, it seems."
"You're home!" Rotee calls out, running to engulf her. I instinctively step away as Eve appears out of thin air, hugging the Victor as well. Soon, she acknowledges my presence. "Haymitch, I'm surprised to see you awake at this hour."
I scoff at her remark. "If not for these brats disturbing me," I state, though it's not entirely true. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Katniss kneels down to speak to Eve.
"Have you been annoying Haymitch again?"
Eve stares at the floor, as though she is actually remorseful. "Well, just a little…"
Despite her efforts, I hear Katniss whisper in her ear, "Good girl. Keep it up."
Determined to get them punished, I continue speaking. "And then your damned daughter decides it would be hilarious to steal my key to the liquor cabinet."
Eve flashes me a puzzled expression. "I don't have your key, Haymitch. Honest."
I let out a short laugh. "Of course you don't! In fact, it's right here in my pocket!" I reach into my pants' pocket only to pull out my keys to display for the entire kitchen crowd. Suddenly, Eve's absence when Katniss walked in clicks. "She stole it! That blasted, demonic brat stole it!"
Katniss shakes her head. "Well, now that we have that disaster worked out, let's eat some lunch." I stare, motionless with rage, as they gather around the table. I expect Peeta to be joining them once he's done with the plants outside but march back to my foggy sanctuary before I see him. I slam the door, locking it before unlocking the liquor cabinet. I pull out a bottle of whiskey and chug a good portion of it before I collapse onto the bed, retreating to my hazy bliss.
God, how I hate kids.
HG-CF-MJ
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