Disclaimer: Sorry Suzanne. This was supposed to be a sweet fic that again steered more towards M. . . dear god.
A/N: Hey everyone it's Minx. . . I'm back with a fun little fic here, it's pretty saucy and definitely headed M territory by the end I reckon. . . I'm in law final season right now so not sure when I'll update! I'll be done with uni forever in a month so I'm hoping to update The Poster to those who've messaged me in the last few months and asked! Anyway, read and review/enjoy! This is inspired by the new Catching Fire trailer and the screen caps we've had so far of this delicious pair! ;)
Haymitch was propped up against some fat, burgundy cushions, the edges trimmed with gold and the table in front of him lined with silver cloth. The residue of the meal they'd had was scattered across the surface, a few crumbs in the velvet and a wine splash or two on the satin.
He felt the sickly taste of dessert at the back of his throat: a strange, luminous cream that had congealed on the roof of his mouth. The Capitol types had loved it, sighing and singing their praises at this marvelous delight the chefs had apparently brewed up. To him it tasted more like milk that had curdled in the dry heat of the District 12 sun.
Most had drifted across the large room to the dance floor, a few Capitol butterflies flitting around the centre, others clustered in colourful mobs. There were pats on the backs and raised glasses and self-congratulation all round. Record figures on the Victory Tour coverage and a "fantastic year all round".
The tables around him had been abandoned, the women not on the dance floor rooted to the bar like carnivorous plants, hawking out unsuspecting affluent types. The remaining men were busy puffing on their strange, Capitol cigars by the ballroom doors. A waiter tidied up around Haymitch; his hand coiling around his glass like a python, a silent warning from the young man.
He grimaced as he took a sizable gulp of his drink, the rich flavour dulling the bright colours of the décor around him. He heard a woman shriek with joy in the distance, Effie clapping her hands as a magician created a puff of sparkly smoke in his hand.
Haymitch sniffed, 25 years of these parties had made him more socially inept rather than the other way round. He used to be willing to have a bit of fun, get drunk, poke fun at the pompous men and flirt with the hideous women. It was a slow and sadistic pastime and everything he enjoyed perversely since doing since his Games.
His eyes were still on Effie, a low burn worming his way through his body like the alcohol, she was smiling brightly, speaking animatedly as the suited men surrounding her chuckled at her tale. She clasped her hands, smiling as then one gentleman plucked her hand and kissed it, seemingly apologetic that he had to leave and speak to another group.
She suddenly cast her eyes to his side of the room, and barely covered her shock at already finding him watching her; her look immediately turned to disapproving as he held her gaze and spitefully took another large gulp of his drink. She smiled at her companions, before tearing herself away and began to march over to his solo spot.
Haymitch let out a groaning sigh to himself, another gulp dashing down his throat as he prepared himself for Capitol open fire. Her body was encased in lilac frills, her smooth, slim legs punctuated by sky high matching heels. She looked stunning by Capitol standards. She looked stunning by any standard.
He mentally punched himself for thinking that.
"Haymitch-"
"Go back to your flirting Effie, I was rather enjoying your embarrassing attempts to get into that blonde one's pants."
She rolled her eyes, "I was not-"
"No seriously, I think he nearly fell for it, the way you touched his arm, did those gooey eyes up at him-"
"I was trying to be charming, Haymitch, these people could be influential-"
"Yeah, and maybe you should be less influenced by what's going on in their pants."
She rolled her eyes, batting away the thought in her mind that the drunken man in front of her was skirting around an emotion that sounded like jealousy.
Haymitch loved pushing her buttons, especially when he was generally feeling spiteful.
She held out her hand to him, her nails sharp and emblazoned in gold. He eyed the offered limb up suspiciously, not sure what she was demanding with this gesture.
"Get up."
He pulled a face, her own expression brooking no discussion. He'd probably lose a finger if he touched one of her nails, like grass to sheers.
"No." He replied, a lilt of teasing in his voice. He took a large gulp of his drink.
"Your head's barely above the table." She folded her arms.
"Maybe I like it down here."
"You're making a fool of us all as always, you should be keeping an eye on them!"
"I have been." Haymitch gritted out; of course he had been. Peeta was enamoring a gaggle of Capitol women who had a fondness for pretty things. Peeta could manage that with his cakes and frosting and bright eyes, although duller than last year.
Katniss was with Plutarch, shuffling slowly in her long dress.
Effie blinked purposefully a few times, her powder blue lashes brushing her powdered cheeks as she watched Haymitch throw back the last of the amber liquid.
"I need another drink"
He searched the room, looking to hail a waiter over, but Effie swatted his hand down. She held her pale hand out for him again, closer to his face as if the threat was looming.
"Dance with me."
"I can barely stand."
She huffed out a breath, eyebrows creased as she looked down at him, "I suppose not."
He was looking back at her, narrowing his blurry eyes for a moment as his finger tapped on the edge of his glass.
"Outside."
Effie looked at him blankly as he unsteadily heaved himself up, standing back a little as he stumbled to his feet.
"I'm sorry?"
"Outside. Let's go." His voice wasn't stern, but the imperative was there.
He was already marching off in an irregular fashion when she called after him, "Aren't you going to get a drink?"
Haymitch turned round, almost looking surprised, "You are the last person I ever expected to hear those words from."
"Well I don't know, never thought about it but perhaps I won't like you sober." She quipped, raising her eyebrows as she clicked past him, leaving Haymitch to amble in her wake.
He walked stiltedly out of the doors, touching a stone pillar almost for moral support as he reached the top of the stairs leading outside. Haymitch watched as Effie's lithe figure strode off into the gardens, and he traipsed after her.
"I'm here." She said as Haymitch walked past the bench she'd sat on down a side path; a view that overlooked the crisp lights of the Capitol.
He slumped down beside her, his creased shirt starting to untuck from his suit.
"Feeling any better?"
He let out a long breath, the fresh air beginning to wash out his alcohol filled brain, running a hand through his long hair: "I think the air never tastes right here."
"I'd thought you'd be more used to it by now."
"I think it's because I don't want it to be."
He felt more than saw the surprise in Effie's body as she sat next to him, her whole body tensing then relaxing as if she'd given too much away. He wondered if she took offence at it.
Effie could feel the heat from his body; he'd sat himself very close to her and made no sign to make some distance. She wasn't used to steering such personal territory with the mess of a man next to her. But her fingers were tingling; wanting to reach out and touch his arm, feel the hardened muscle under the fancy Capitol weaving. Despite her hoping he'd look awful, he did look horrifically handsome tonight- he always did look good in a suit. He seemed darker, more dangerous.
"Well you've done better than previous years. You haven't started a fight at least; you can give yourself that."
He let out a sharp laugh, turning to face her, "Thanks sweetheart."
She was smiling at him softly, her big blue eyes studying his face.
"What you looking at?"
She shook her head lightly, "I. . . nothing. It's just sometimes I find I can't stay angry with you."
He grinned at that, "Why princess? Got a soft spot for me? Or do you want me in your soft spot?"
A short, disbelieving laugh burst from Effie, "You know full well I wouldn't touch you."
"That's true." He admitted, "And you know full well I wouldn't want to look like I'd screwed a paint box."
She rolled her eyes at him, but not blessing him with a shrieky retort as she often would. She'd learnt to handle his jibes a lot better over the years; at this rate soon she'd have the upper hand.
His eyes glinted with amusement, but there was something hidden, and Effie felt her own eyes soften marginally. He'd never looked at her for that long.
He forced out a cough and turned away slightly. She didn't let up though.
"I think you rather enjoy having a bit of fun injected into your life, Haymitch." She teased.
"Fun?" He replied, "I'd agree with 'injected'. Forcibly. Painfully. With someone holding me down."
She ignored him, "I see you watching us all, that quizzical look on your face. A part of you may hate us but part of you is certainly intrigued, even after all these years."
"I hate you all, there's only a few of you I . . . don't mind."
He caught her eyes briefly again, immediately regretting it as he could feel her smirk burning into the side of his face. Insufferable woman.
Quiet descended for a moment, roars of laughter inside nearly drowning out the orchestra. He could hear the trickle of a water feature somewhere; it reminded him of the gentle stream back home. District 12, where there were mountains instead of bland grey towers, sunlight instead of great spotlights lighting up those big, concrete monsters.
"You're the one always watching me anyway, checking up on me."
"Well we are supposed to be a team." She replied.
"No, it's nothing to do with that."
She blinked, amused, "Oh? So what is it to do with?"
He half turned to her, leaning an arm on the back of the bench, "You love having a bit of District rough around. Makes you feel pretty, smug."
She locked eyes with his, his eyes glittering as he watched her bite her plump lips, "Pretty? Maybe. Smug? No- why on earth would I be smug to be paired up with you!? You're a complete nightmare-"
It was his turn to smirk now, "You love it, me winding you up, getting under your skin."
Effie let out a bark of a laugh, short and sparkly like a bubble bursting, "Ok, fine, whatever you say Haymitch. Life wouldn't be the same without you around."
Haymitch admonished himself, but his body couldn't help it. Normally he would've stopped by now, but treading carefully had turned into bull in a china shop. He could see the blush burning through the porcelain white, her hands smoothing down her skirt as if to gain control.
"I see the way I catch you looking at me, like your corset's loosening just seeing me." He licked his lips.
Effie pulled a disbelieving expression, unsure where this outrageous flirt had come from. Normally their style was more shouting than seduction.
The glow of the wine fuelled her curiosity though, and the way the dim light of the gardens fell on his scarred face was doing something to her body he had an unknown talent for.
Her voice was lower now, huskier, "Well then by your logic it works two ways. You do spend a good deal of your time spying me out Mr Abernathy."
"Do I? I didn't think you'd notice, just making sure I see you inevitably fall over in those ridiculous shoes one day, I can laugh til my grave then."
He tried to swallow the heavy lump growing in his throat, his voice softer and his eyes on her supple pink lips, "You're normally wrapped around some fancy toff anyway, not much chance of falling."
She shifted round a little closer, his eyes following her slender fingers as they traced up his arm, "You and I know that's not true."
"Hmmm I wondered as much. . . I'm guessing you'd prefer a bit of District 12 dirt under your fingernails. . ."
His eyes locked on hers again, and the arousal in her gaze made his lungs feel like they were too big- like he couldn't get enough air into them. His pants were fast becoming tighter, shifting at the tension and getting closer to her.
She could feel herself slipping rapidly, the feeling of his toned, war-torn body under her fingers- the way his hair dangled tantalisingly just over his eyes- it sent goose bumps over her own skin.
"And what if my corset was loosening hmm?" She continued to tease, his hand slowly coming to rest on her bare thigh, her breath now grazing his face. His gaze briefly bobbed to her chest as she leaned in, along with the golf ball in his throat.
"I think I'd keep you in it."
Effie held his gaze, waiting for him to continue as her hand reached the nape of his neck, massaging his head and watching him unravel.
"I'd unzip your dress, let it slowly fall to the floor. . . reveal all that unblemished Capitol skin you hide away. . ."
She was already far too aroused, his eyes dark and his voice so low it was making her body spark in anticipation.
"I'd run my hands down the curve of your waist. . . feel the smooth bones of the corset beneath my fingers. . . I'd find those long ribbons. . ."
His hand was edging under the hem of her dress, his thumb creeping up her inner thigh, and she nearly moaned at the excruciating slowness of his movements.
" Then I'd tighten it up, make you gasp. . . and then. . . I'd remove your panties. . ."
He paused, his eyes fixed on her lips as his own parted, his hot breath on her lips.
"And then, I'd take you."
She buckled, moaning and crashing her lips to his, feeling his hands press into her back immediately and push her down onto the bench with his body.
Effie shoved her hand deeper into his hair, ripping at his buttons as his tongue slid across hers, eliciting a moan from both of them.
They broke apart, hazy eyed and bewildered at the sound of laughter closer than the party ought to be. More people heading outside.
He grabbed her hand before she could protest, hauling her through the bushes and deeper into the gardens.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Annnnnnd keep Hayffie-ing! xx
