Note: Everyone is pretty Out of Character in this part, sorry. Maybe it's because they're drunk? /crappyexcuseiscrappy

Lolita

Would you be mine? Would you be my baby tonight?

Could be kissing my fruit punch lips in the bright sunshine

'Cause I like you quite a lot, everything you got, don't you know?

I'm at Haymitch's house, somewhere I've been a lot lately. It's been lonely since the games, since Peeta's mad at me and I haven't had a chance to talk to Gale with him working. Haymitch is the only person I really feel like I can talk to lately, anyways. My mom and Prim try, and I want to be the daughter, and the sister that I used to be. I can't, though, and Haymitch understands that. He understands that I need a break from the people who don't understand me, and can only try to fathom what I've been through. Not only does Haymitch understand, but he has this rare ability to make it not some awkward elephant in the room. Maybe the mutual understanding helps with that.

At first, we were just silent. Haymitch was usually hung over or sleeping when I came, but made an effort to make me feel at home when he came to. He usually tried to make me food before realizing he had none, and then fetched me a glass of water. We'd sit, in a comfortable silence, sipping on our beverages, looking everywhere, the ceiling, the table, our hands, our eyes. It was during this time, looking in his eyes, and at his face, I realized that haymitch was kind of handsome, if you looked past the paunchiness and the deep bags beneath his eyes. He didn't look quite as old as I remembered, and there was something about the way he smiled that made my heart flutter. I was embarrassed by this feeling at first, and pushed it aside, pretending I didn't feel it at all. It was weird...he was so much older than me.

One day, we just started talking. I felt as though I could trust him like we we were close lifelong friends. Everything personal about myself was poured out, and Haymitch told me some about his own life. He was reluctant at first, but opened up with the help of liquor and some coaxing from myself. The only topic we didn't touch was the games, and of course, the way my heart took off every time I thought of him and coming to his house.

We learned a lot about each other this way. I told him about childhood and starvation, Gale, and depressed mothers. He confided deadbeat fathers, days looking past the fence, and girlfriends. One day he commented that he hoped depression didn't run in my family, and I concurred. It was an odd comment, but I told myself it was nothing, just a mentor caring for his victor. It still felt oddly intimate.

Then, one night, I had a particularly nasty nightmare concerning peeta and gale, waking with a scream and running from the house. Without thinking, I found myself at Haymitch's house. It wasn't until I reached his living room I realized how ridiculous it was. Haymitch sat on his couch, still awake and pretty drunk, staring at me in shock. I couldn't fight the tears though, and the next thing I processed his arms were around me, hugging me until the crying stopped, before leading back to my house. Soon, this was a regular occurrence.

Tonight is one of those nights. Except, I don't plan on going home. I want to drink, to help pluck up the courage for what I plan on doing. When he pulls away and starts to move me back to the door, I shake my head. He just cocks an eyebrow, and I clear my throat, my stomach clenching in nervousness. It's crazy, what I'm thinking, but I've got to at least try. I swallow, but I can't find the words. Several seconds drag by.

"Can I get a drink?" I finally manage to croak out, and haymitch gives a chuckle.

"Sure, sweetheart, help yourself." He motions to an assortment of bottles littering his table, each having varying amounts of alcohol left. I pick one and take a quick swig, and fight the urge to spit it out all over his table. Haymitch looks at me expectantly, and I raise the bottle to him before taking another drink. It's not so bad this time, now that I know what to expect, but I still wince when I swallow. Haymitch watches, and a feeling of self-consciousness creeps under my skin with his gaze.

A few swallows later, a nice buzz has settled in and I giggle, setting the bottle down.

"I've got a question for you." I say, smiling. It seems kinda silly I was so worried about his reaction. Haymitch forces a laugh, and takes a drink from his own bottle.

"And what question is that, sweetheart?" He's poised, tense, anticipating the worst. Perhaps he thinks I'm going to ask him about his games. I study his grey seam eyes, preparing myself spring the worst, but before the question can slip out all the way, I chicken out.

"Have you ever..." I am not ready for this. I pick up the bottle again and take drink, and resolve to take a new approach. Baby steps. "Had sex?" I ask, because it's the most logical question. Of course he's kissed someone, he's had multiple girlfriends. Maybe even gotten naked. Or something. The thought makes my head swim, and I take another drink. Haymitch studies me for a moment before answering.

"That's your big question?" He asks, a bit incredulous. I shake my head, a nervous smile spreading across my face.

"I'm just working up to it." I explain, Haymitch gives a small smirk, but continues to study me, and a heat starts to creep up my neck and to my cheeks. I'm suddenly aware of just how nervous I am, and take another drink, which seems to take off the edge. Haymitch leans back in his chair and looks at the ceiling for a while before answering.

"Yes, I've had sex, sweetheart. Why do you want to know?" He still doesn't look at me, and I take my time to finish the bottle off before answering.

"With who?" I don't bother to acknowledge his question. He heaves a sigh.

"A few people from the Capitol, my girlfriend before the games, even a couple of people from the district." He looks at me now, more serious than before, but the alcohol keeps the embarrassment away effectively. "Are you going to answer my questions?"

"Because...I..." I look at him, unsure if I should confess. After a few seconds of staring, I decide to screw it and go ahead. If it goes badly Ill just act as though it didn't happen. "I think...we should...um...have sex." I refuse to tear my eyes away now, and I can see a course of emotion through haymitch. Shock, running into disbelief, running into...amusement.

"Are you serious?" He laughs, but I only nod solemnly, and he sobers. "No. Absolutely not. What about Peeta? Or Gale?"

"Well...I mean, I like them. But Peeta wants nothing to do with me. And Gale is just...y'know, a friend." I mumble, all my tact whisked away with the buzz of alcohol. I want nothing more than to leave now, and hide from Haymitch until the end of time. I don't know what I was expecting. For him to say yes? Ridiculous. I glance up at Haymitch, hoping that he'll offer a bit understanding, or at least something to break the silence, but he has fixed his eyes on a bottle of amber liquid among many.

"Forget it, it was a stupid idea." I murmur, and I grab another bottle before getting up. "Seeya."

"Where do you plan on going with that?" He asks, his gruff voice holding an undertone of amusement. "Back to your mother's house? I'm sure she'd appreciate that."

My face flushes red, burning. Of course he's right, and I plop back down on the seat that he has reserved for me. I open the bottle and take a long drink before looking at Haymitch, who has returned to studying me.

"What?" I ask, a bit more sloshy than before. Haymitch barks out a laugh.

"Slow down, sweetheart. You don't know your limits." He gets up and takes the bottle from me, eliciting a whine on my part, and I make a half-hearted attempt to grab it back. He just laughs and sets it up high, as if that would stop me from grabbing it again, or one of the many other half filled bottles on his table.

"You're not fair." I mumble, and he gives another laugh.

"I'm not?" He asks, and I nod. "How so?"

"Because," Hot embers of anger are starting to glow in my chest, fuelling my words and making them pour out of my mouth. "I come in here, and you act all nice and understanding, and you hug me when I'm scared, but it doesn't mean anything to you." I glance at Haymitch to try and see his reaction, which currently stands at some mix between pity and amusement. The words continue to come. "You're the only person who understands, Haymitch, besides Peeta, but he hates me right now, pretty much because of you." Somewhere between the words, hot tears have started to run down my face. "And I really like you, and...it isn't fair."

When the anger finally sputters out into tears, I come to the realization I had gotten up, and I'm now standing over Haymitch, whose expression I can't read. The next thing I process is his arms around me, his hands stroking my hair. We remain like this even when the tears stop. Eventually I look up, and our eyes meet. Instinctively, I lift my head and our lips meet.

Another Note: If you're reading because you read my other fic, Burnt, the next chapter will be up soon. I've been working on it, but I've also been hoarding this for a while. The next chapter has been pretty hard to write.