The nuisance has returned.

It was not time for him to wake up. Haymitch Abernathy could tell just by the warm sunlight beating down on his face that it was way too early. He refused to stand up – oh by God, he didn't want to. The hangover he had this morning was worse than usual, or perhaps it was just made worse by the racket he was hearing downstairs in what he presumed was in his living room.

The clanging of the bottles continued and dangerously increased to a point where he was growing worried.

But the bed felt so right, it hadn't felt as right for a long time – the liquors Effie had sent him last night via train was so incredibly strong, as one would expect from the Capitol, that it chased all the nightmares away. Even the sheets covering his mattress, that were supposedly already nasty beyond repair, smelled like lavenders and roses – wait, not roses – to him.

He should be used to it by now.

The little sweetheart ever since she learned how to talk and walk and climb on the steps of his porch and opened doors, had gone to his living room every morning like a ritual and made a playpen out of it. It was a ploy by her parents to deplete the last bits of patience in his old drained body, or he thought so. Haymitch was a paranoid man; he was strongly convinced the child's parents taught her specifically how to trespass his property. It was probably one of their attempts of 'helping him'. Frankly, the kids' (that now were not kids at all) 'helping him' only increased his blood pressure. He was gonna die because of them, he hopes so.

Haymitch groaned.

"She's playing with the damn bottles." As if reminding himself that it was a bad thing and she would probably end up hurt.

He was again tempted to listen to the monsters in his head that murmured to him, just leave the child alone, and whatever happens, if she injures herself, it was her parents fault for letting their child wander off to his home. But the angelic voice which he believed was his conscience or just a solid proof that he was still sane after all said that the only reason Katniss and Peeta allows that is because they trust you with Lily.

And they shouldn't have.

He tried to tell them again and again not to because every parent who trusted him with their children in the past only went home with said children in a wooden box.

Peeta would laugh at him, so would Katniss in her own way. Apparently, they believe that they were his children too. And they turned out alright and alive albeit a little shook and burned but still alright. And that he, Haymitch Abernathy, had brought them through the games, the war and now they were at peace – or as close as they could get to peace anyway.

Haymitch abruptly stood, blinked the light out of his eyes and trudged down the steps.

If the little sweetheart bled out in his living room because of a shattered glass from one of his liquor bottles then it was like letting himself fulfill his curse of unintentionally killing everyone he loves and everyone that loves him.

Yes, Peeta and Katniss' little rascal loves him very much.

"Haymitch!" He cringed at the shrill voice of the four year old as she spotted him. "Good mowning!"

Lily Mellark had gathered all the cluttered bottles in his living room and kitchen and placed them all in the center of his carpet in a bulk that looked like a mini army of empty bottles. The bottles in the living room were plenty enough not to mention she also collected the ones in the kitchen. But on the upside, the first floor of his house was devoid of any liquor bottles.

Maybe he should hire the rascal as a maid. Working as such a young age, like her parents once did. What a prodigy, he snickered.

"How long have you been in my house? Where the hell are your parents?" His hands were on his hips with a scowl on his face. It used to scare her off but unfortunately now it only made her giggle.

She stood, waddled over to him and enveloped his legs with her stubby little arms.

Katniss called it a hug.

"Sun was pretty, I was here when it said hello." She pointed towards the window where there was, to her credit, a perfect view of the sky. "Mama and Dada, sleepy still. They don't wanna play with Lily yet."

Haymitch looked at her incredulously. The child was already here at dawn. It baffled him how she found such comfort in his home and especially in him. He didn't look friendly; he was terribly far from friendly but according to everyone who knew them, the child apparently adored him.

"Sweetie, what makes your little head think I want to play with you huh? I'm sleepy too. Now I'd let you stay here but you don't make any more noise than you already have. Got that you rascal?" He ruffled her blonde hair affectionately. Of course he said it humorously, didn't need Katniss shooting him arrows at this early in the morning. Anyway whatever tone he used on the child mattered none, whether he was shouting or grumbling or cooing, she would resort to hugging him still. He found out sometime ago that she only did that to him.

"'Cause Haymitch loves Lily," She says while letting go of his leg and flashing him her four front teeth.

He smirked. "I don't, sweetie. Why would I when you just have – what – four teeth?" He pointed at her four front teeth that were still disturbingly in plain view and said, "I'm way out of your league. See? I have 32 teeth, oh wait, 31 'cause the other one's already gold. I have a gold tooth, bet you don't have any."

Crouching down until they were eye-to-eye, he showed her his teeth. Lily found this as an invitation to shove her hand in his mouth just to touch that one gold tooth at the far back. He shouldn't have boasted about that tooth.

Unexpectedly, it led to his demise because now, Lily refused to take her hand out until she got it.

"I want it! It's sooo shiny!" She was still trying to fit her whole hand inside Haymitch's mouth, which he was forcefully closing.

"Stop – " He successfully yanked her hand out. " – that! Look," he wiped his palm around his mouth trying to rid the awful taste of her hand and said, "you don't shove your hand in people's mouths. That what Katniss been teaching you? It's not proper!"

She giggled. He scowled. His best attempt of scolding and the little sweetheart giggled at his face. This kid was immune to him, it seems.

"Why you giggling? I'm angry, Lily. Take me seriously!"

"I'm sowwy!" She giggled louder. "But you sound like Aunt Effie!"

"What..." He growled as he backtracked on his words. Great, now he sounded like a nagging Capitol woman.

"Okay so maybe I did sound like her – "she guffawed, " – but I am serious. You don't do that, Lily, especially not with your hand tasting so goddamned awful."

The second he said so, she stuck her hand in her own mouth and tasted it.

Now he was really beginning to question Katniss and Peeta's parenting techniques. He was starting to bet that even he, Haymitch Abernathy, the drunk (ex) victor of District Twelve could possibly have raised this child better.

And his thoughts were fortified when she pulled her hand out a second later and said ,with that wide adorable grin, that it was delicious.

Tomorrow, he was locking his door.

He had enough of children's hands for breakfast, figuratively.

AN: Let's just acknowledge for a second how awesomely sarcastic and grumpy Haymitch is. Anyway this is my first time writing about HG, and I am really anxious about it. Though, I've been reading fanfics about Haymitch for a long time now. See, I'm inlove with him. Haha XD PS This doesn't really have a specific timeline. Just sort of like a compilation of connected one-shots. It's mostly gonna focus on moments Haymitch has with Katniss and Peeta's daughter. Also, I accept requests!

Let me know what you think! Thank you ;)