Chapter 2: Present
He wasn't sure what to expect of Effie's apartment, if he was honest with himself. The last time he had been there, the whole place had been abandoned and all her things had been moved by peacekeepers or invaders, they couldn't have been sure. And in the past her apartment had been the epitome of order, very colorful and futuristic. Although Effie usually remained cheerful and optimistic, she wasn't as loud or as talkative as she used to be.
Still, the apartment remained the epitome of order. She still had most of the same furniture so it was pretty much as colorful as ever.
She told him to sit down and make himself comfortable in the living room, and he knew for a fact that the sofa was very uncomfortable, so he chose the armchair instead, while Effie left to get whatever it was that she needed to give to the kids. It turned out the armchair was very uncomfortable as well. He rose and sat on the sofa.
Effie returned moments later with two boxes. She laid them on the coffee table and turned to Haymitch.
"Oh, where are my manners? Would you like something to drink, Haymitch?" she offered. Always the hostess. "I don't have whiskey or vodka, which I know you prefer, but there's wine."
"Only if you drink with me, Sweetheart," he arched his eyebrows.
"I've never known you to decline alcohol," Effie pursed her lips. "Well, I suppose one glass or two won't make much of a difference."
She left him once more, and Haymitch made himself comfortable on the sofa, or as much as he could. He eyed the boxes with some caution, wondering what sort of frivolity Effie wanted to give to the kids now. She was back a moment later, with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. It was automatic, really, that he would reach out for the bottle to open it, and she let him — he blamed it on the many years they worked together, but it was more than that. He knew it was more than that.
He chose not to comment on it.
She handed him the corkscrew and he opened the bottle and poured the wine into the two glasses. Wordlessly, they raised their respective glasses towards each other before drinking. He thought nothing of Effie sitting beside him on the sofa. He knew that was her favorite spot.
He wondered what that said about them.
"So," he started, feeling the pleasant taste of the wine even after he had gulped it, "what's in the boxes?"
It took her a second to reply, as she drank more slowly than he did. Manners, he guessed. He could never get the hang of it.
"Clothes. Accessories," Effie said. "From Cinna and Portia. They found these in his apartment, I don't know why no one ever threw them away. Plutarch said I should have them and pass them to the children when I had the chance. It's not much, but… well, I hope Katniss will like it."
Haymitch shrugged. "She doesn't care much for fashion, you know."
"No," she agreed, "but she cares for Cinna. If he made these for her, then she should have them. They're beautiful, anyway. There's a lovely white dress that could make for a wedding gown these days — why, fashion has changed so much. Perhaps if she and Peeta ever get there again, she'll wear it."
"Perhaps," Haymitch left it at that.
"How are they, Haymitch? Really," Effie asked with pleading eyes. "I ask Peeta and he says he's better, but I have no idea how… with each other, I mean. They used to be so close."
Haymitch took a deep breath.
"Well, you know," he started, "they both have nightmares. Most of us do. Peeta has flashbacks. They happen every now and then. We know not to touch him when that happens. He still has trouble figuring out what's real and what's not. The girl can handle herself. They still live across from each other."
"Small steps," Effie offered.
He nodded.
"Yeah. They'll get there," he said honestly. "They're resilient like that."
Effie nodded and took another sip of her wine. He noticed her glass was nearly empty. Perhaps she didn't drink as slowly as she used to.
They were silent for a few seconds. There was something about her, though. She was different. It wasn't just the makeup, or the lack of wigs, or the lack of colorful ridiculous clothes. The last time he had seen her he had been helping Peeta into his home, and her eyes looked empty and they had refused to meet his. She couldn't stay, she had said. He had never even asked if she could.
Perhaps he should have.
"How are you, Effie? Really," he repeated her tone, though he did not mean it in a sarcastic way. "You're different. I don't mean your appearance. Just… this baby talk. Moving to District 4. How are you coping?"
She met his eyes then. He remembered a time where he could read them in a second — it didn't matter if she was naked in his bed or they were surrounded by sponsors and she was wearing her puffy outfits. He could always read her eyes very well.
He had no idea what she was thinking now.
"I don't have nightmares, if that's what you're asking," he thought she would have rolled her eyes if she didn't have her precious manners. "I used to have insomnia. I still do. You know as well as I do that this isn't recent," she added at his questioning glance. "I take very effective antidepressants before bed. They don't affect my current treatment. They help."
"You don't have flashbacks?"
Effie shook her head. "Not often. I just don't like to remember. That's the hard part, I suppose. There's a lot I wish to forget. But I have learned to deal with that a long time ago."
He poured more wine into their glasses. Effie sat back, relaxed. He did the same.
"I'm glad you don't think I look so different," she said quietly. "I still have trouble getting used to this, you know. I do miss my wigs."
"You always looked gorgeous without them. You know that. You don't need me to tell you that," Haymitch said carelessly. "You still look like an eggplant, though."
"I will have you know dark colors are the latest trend, and so is this particular shade of purple."
He laughed. "Never change, Sweetheart."
"I wish I could say the same to you. You still insist on aggravating me."
"Can't help it," Haymitch said honestly. He took a sip of the wine and looked at her thoughtfully. The question slipped from his mouth before he could help himself. "You're really sure, about this baby thing?"
She was taking a sip when he did, so he waited until she had swallowed, patiently. She smiled at him.
"I won't lie and say that I do. But I don't think anyone is ever really sure," Effie pointed out. "Would you be sure?"
Haymitch shrugged. "'m sure I don't ever want kids, so I wouldn't know."
He did not have to look at her to know she was watching him. He saw from the corner of his eye as she rested the glass on her thigh and held her head on her hand, her arm against the back of the sofa. When he decided to meet her eyes, she was smiling at him.
"What is it?"
Effie shook her head slightly. "This reminds me of old times, that's all. In the living room of the penthouse. Discussing strategies. Drinking."
"Arguing. Fooling around," Haymitch offered, and a pleasant blush spread through her cheeks. She kept smiling, though. "Sometimes Chaff and Finnick came over."
"Not to fool around, thankfully," Effie said.
Haymitch snorted. "Fuck, no."
"Language. It wasn't so bad," she said quietly. "I mean," she was quick to say, but he wouldn't have interrupted her, "it was bad. What we went through. The children we lost. But you helped me focus. If I could focus on making sure you were presentable and not so drunk, then I felt better. And we had each other, after we lost them."
"Yeah. Suppose we did. We used to have some fun."
Effie laughed. He could tell she was already slightly tipsy because of the way she was resting her head on the back of the sofa now. She only lost her posture like that when alcohol was involved. "We're not dead. We can still have some fun, you know."
He put his glass on the coffee table. She didn't chide him for staining the wood.
"What are you saying, Sweetheart?"
Their gazes met. Her glass was empty. Her hair looked really soft.
"I'm saying I'm not supposed to drink alcohol, but here I am," Effie said slowly.
He knew that tone. That tone was trouble.
She ran her fingers through her hair and put her glass on the coffee table as well. She couldn't have drank enough to be so drunk, he figured. They still had over half a bottle left to drink. She seemed to be sitting very close to him. Or maybe it was him who had moved closer. He could never tell, with them.
"Last night of freedom, eh?"
Effie laughed.
"Johanna's words, not mine."
He didn't know who took the first step, but the next thing he knew he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. Her hands grasped at his neck and jaw and her lips felt as soft as ever, or perhaps even softer than before; this was not a good decision, he knew. He was sure he'd regret it. When was the last time they did this? A year ago? And he didn't even know how long before that.
But damn, was her hair soft. She smelled so good too. She always did. They broke the kiss and he couldn't help but move his lips to her neck. She purred under him. He felt her palms on his chest, caressing. This was not how he intended his day to end.
"Haymitch," Effie said breathlessly as he palmed one of her breasts, "we should go to the bedroom."
"You sure?" he asked as he nipped at the skin under her earlobe.
He felt her nod. "Yes."
It happened fast, as it often used to be. When they reached her bedroom he already had his shirt off and her skirt lay on the floor. They dropped on the bed unceremoniously; he teased her with his mouth and only stopped when she was panting; her blouse was only half unbuttoned and he never even took his boxers completely off before he entered her, holding her waist as he kneeled between her legs.
Effie sighed beneath him and he started moving, a hand cupping her breast through the bra - a set he didn't remember ever seeing. Besides that, the sight reminded him of before - of fast, impulsive sex in the penthouse, after a party, after a death; it was always like that with them. They couldn't really help it.
It was fast, and good, and it felt like home to him; he couldn't deny it. Afterwards, they lay side by side, not touching, catching their breaths. He found a black button near his head on the bed, and figured it must have snapped from her blouse. Her nails had left marks on his abdomen.
He heard Effie sigh and the hustling of the covers and looked up to see her sitting up.
"I'll be right back," she said quietly, and he watched as she disappeared into the bathroom without looking back.
Haymitch laid his head back on the bed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. This was not how this was supposed to be. He had fucked up the last time, and today was about… mending broken bridges, those were the words Peeta had used. Sex always complicated things, even between them, even if they were used to turning towards it. It happened almost every fucking time. They still had unresolved issues to talk about and he might have just fucked it all up by fucking her at the first opportunity. He could just see Katniss' shaking her head at him if she knew. Not that she would ever know.
He took a deep breath, adjusted himself in his boxers, and thought that he might as well put his clothes on and get moving. He could only remember a handful of times where he had actually spent the whole night, and it had always been rather awkward afterwards.
Still, her sheets were soft and he felt exhausted.
He was asleep before he even realized it.
—
Haymitch felt something move around him and his eyes snapped open immediately, a little on edge about this; it was only when he saw the blonde mess of hair under his chin that he relaxed.
Effie. He was at Effie's apartment. He must have fallen asleep after they had sex — it had been a long time for him, after all — and she had not kicked him out. Rather the opposite, in fact. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder and one of her legs was wrapped around his calf. What did this mean? They didn't simply spend the night together. A quick look at the clock told him he must have slept only for an hour or so. This wasn't so bad. But still unexpected. Just when he and Effie had apparently reached a mutual… friendly… understanding… of sorts.
She moved again, and he figured he must have woken her up when he startled, moments ago.
"I'm not kicking you out or declaring my love for you," her voice was soft against his chest, and awfully quiet to be simply teasing. But she did raise her head and flashed him a smile. "You can relax now."
He tried to look nonchalant. "You know me, Sweetheart. I don't relax."
"It's a new country, Haymitch," Effie said as she sat up. "You might as well try to enjoy it."
She was wearing a satin pink nightgown he knew from a few years ago. He remembered thinking it complimented her well, that soft pink tone. Still did. Even more so.
"I ordered us some dinner, actually," she said, slipping away from the bed. "It should be here any moment. I hope you don't mind. Not all of us can survive on alcohol alone."
He shook his head, chuckling. He felt pretty hungry. Effie had always had a sixth sense for this sort of thing. He followed her lead and sat up, rubbing his eyes and watching as she slipped a red dressing gown he was also familiar with. She chanced a look at him and met his gaze, her cheeks coloring slightly.
"Stop that."
Haymitch arched his eyebrows. "What?"
"Stop looking at me as if you have seen me naked," she chided, grabbing a comb from her vanity table and trying to make her hair look presentable.
He stood up, walking slowly towards the bathroom.
"Newsflash, Sweetheart: I have seen you naked."
He barely saw her shaking her head at him before he closed the door.
It turned out it wasn't as messy as he thought it would be. He had just finished putting his pants on and his undershirt when the bell rang and, noting that Effie was hardly in an appropriate state to open the door, he did that himself. The delivery boy seemed familiar enough with Effie that he looked suspiciously at him, and then beamed when he realized who he was. Judging by the looks, he was a District boy, so Haymitch tried not to be too rude to him when he babbled for maybe a minute (which was a long time if you counted each second) about his accomplishments during the war, only stopping when Effie did show up, in all her dressing gown glory, smiled at him, called him Timmy, and gave him a good tip.
Haymitch was still dazzled when she took the box containing the food from him and closed the door. He followed her towards the kitchen.
"You're friends with delivery boys now?"
He meant to tease, but he was truly curious. She smiled as she spoke.
"He's a good boy. His parents are from District 2 and they moved here to help with the rebuilding. He's a fan of 12."
"And you know all that because?"
"I don't go out as much as I used to, Haymitch," she said patiently. "And I don't have as many friends as I used to have. Or— no, not friends. Acquaintances. And, well," she stopped after a moment, looking very unsure of herself, "if you must know, I am a disaster in the kitchen. I have been trying to learn but it is a little hard without a second opinion."
She looked so mortified at that last piece of information that he did not have the heart to tease her. Instead — and he did not know what possessed him to do it — he simply tucked a strand of hair that had gone astray back behind her ear, and she gave him a little smile. It wasn't so awkward, after all.
They had dinner quietly — Effie was the one who did the most talking, as usual, and she was focused on the kids. She specifically wanted to know about their medication, living situation, how Twelve was treating them, if people were leaving them alone, if there was any chance that they would be able to visit her in Four in the future.
He followed her cue when Effie started doing the dishes — it was such a strange sight, really, to see her like this: no makeup, wearing very little clothing and her slippers, washing the dishes herself. He decided not to comment. It was kind of endearing.
And strangely domestic, Haymitch thought as he dried the dishes, and stole a glance at her.
She was smiling.
"Do I have something on my face?" he asked.
Effie laughed. "No. I was just thinking this is new for us. To be doing dishes together."
"And we ain't so bad at it. Must say, you surprise me, Princess," he added. "First we eat pizza with our bare hands and then we do the cleaning together."
"I can still be classy," Effie defended herself. "I intend on finishing that wine bottle tonight, you know."
"And that's classy?"
"Why, of course. The wine is of the best quality."
He let out an honest laugh at that; Effie could be fun, when she wasn't so focused on being stuck up about manners and propriety.
"You sure, though?" he asked. "Won't this affect your treatment… thing?"
Effie shrugged, finishing the dishes. "Well, I have done everything they asked of me, and the doctor did say to avoid alcohol but that I could have wine. And I will only ovulate tomorrow, so I don't see how this would be any trouble."
Haymitch scrunched up his nose. "More information than I wanted."
She scoffed. "Men can be so sensible," she dried her hands with a towel and looked at him expectantly. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."
"When did I ever turn down alcohol, Sweetheart?" Haymitch smirked. "I ain't leaving that whole bottle for you."
Effie smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. She leaned against the counter and ran her fingers through her hair.
"Yes, I hope you won't," she said, but looked serious. "What I mean is that I hope you do not feel like you have an obligation towards me. I know you felt responsible when they found me. And I do not blame you. I know we argued before, and we both said things we should not have said, but we were hurting, and… I do not blame you. We both did what we had to do in order to stay alive."
The abrupt change of subject took him off guard.
"Could have done more, though," he mumbled.
"Could you? You had the plan for the arena. You could not afford another just for me. And I understand," she added. "It is in the past. I just wanted you to know that."
Haymitch nodded. It didn't really release the heavy weight he felt on his shoulders, but then he doubted it ever would. He had been living with guilt for a long time in his life — the district, Maysilee, his family, his girl, Peeta, Effie. It was a never ending rolling snowball. He lived with it.
He took a deep breath.
"Not why I'm staying, Sweetheart," he said, trying to make the conversation lighter.
Effie stood up straight, walking slowly towards the living room. "Right. The alcohol."
"You look pretty good, too."
She pretended to be shocked.
"So quick to go back to your old ways, I see."
His eyes glinted slightly. "Is it working?"
He could see she was trying hard not to grin. "It might."
—
Later, the bottle of wine was empty and they found themselves back in the bedroom. That was not new; it was simply how they worked. And if Effie wanted to make the most of her last days of freedom, as Johanna named it, because she was pretty sure she would not have sex in a while, then… well, he wasn't going to complain about it.
Though it did give him pause.
"Can we do this? As far as I'm aware I can't have kids, but… Aren't you on a treatment?"
His hand was groping her breast through the nightgown. He had been kissing her neck and, now that he paused, he noticed he might have sucked a little too hard. If he left a mark he'd never hear the end of it.
Effie unbuckled his pants.
"It's fine, I really can't conceive naturally," she said, a little impatiently. "I can't have sex tomorrow but until then I'm as free as I can be."
Good enough for him.
They took their time now. Kissing, nibbling, sucking. When they reached the bed they were both completely naked, and they spent enough time teasing each other that it was more about playing than foreplay. It was new for them too. It was usually straight to business. But then they didn't do this very frequently nowadays, so he supposed a few changes were in order.
It was fun. His beard tickled her when he kissed her stomach. He jokingly held her hands so her nails wouldn't scratch him. He didn't enter right away; he teased and rubbed until she was nearly begging him to move. They moved slowly, together. Her little gasps drove him on even more than the loud moans he was used to. It was slow, and fun, and a little fuzzy — he suspected it was the same for her because they had both drank the rest of that bottle rather fast. She came with a gasp, clinging to his shoulders and he moved inside her, keeping up with his rhythm until he followed. Despite everything, he was spent when he finished. It took him at least a minute to pull out, and only because she nudged him, crushed with his weight on her.
He kept an arm around her waist, though. He felt the need to anchor himself. And, apparently, so did Effie, because one of her hands was intertwined with his.
"Did you ever think," she started, still a little breathless, "that this would be the future? Before?"
"I didn't think about the future before," Haymitch mumbled, turning his head to look at her. "I still don't, to be honest."
She sighed. "I used to wonder. If we could ever happen. Properly."
He untangled his fingers from hers to touch her jaw carefully. Her eyes looked especially bright now.
"I blew that up when I didn't stay with you and went back to Twelve," he stated. It wasn't a question.
But Effie shook her head. "Katniss needed you. I did too but…"
"You never needed me, Princess. You've always handled yourself just fine without me."
She left it at that, and brought her own hand to cover his on her cheek. The gesture was too intimate. He was past pretending they didn't have anything, anyway—it was always something they wanted to believe. Something they avoided. Before, there was nothing to be done about this. They could have never truly happened. After… he blew his chance. He fucked up. He knew that.
"I almost asked you to come with me."
He didn't mean to say it. Her eyes widened. His thumb traced her lower lip.
"Why didn't you?"
Haymitch pursed his lips. "Don't know. Didn't think you'd want to. Didn't think you deserved that. Didn't think it was safe for you," they all sounded like excuses. "Would you have come? If I had asked?"
Effie blinked, once, twice. She tugged on his arm and brought him closer.
"We will never know now, will we?"
He kissed her, and she tasted like wine, himself and like goodbye, all at once.
—
She woke him up in the morning, announcing she'd be late for work if they didn't start moving. He had meant to be playful but they ended up having sex one more time before she finally left the bed. By the time he was up, he desperately wanted a drink. She offered him breakfast, but he refused, knowing she was just being polite, always so stuck on her manners. They ended up leaving her building together; her, to go to work, and him to a cab, to take him and the two boxes of stuff for the kids back to the hotel. He'd be going back home tomorrow morning and he still had business to do with Plutarch later.
"I will see you later, yes?" Effie asked as he put the boxes inside the cabs.
Haymitch frowned. "Later?"
"My party? At Octavia's apartment?" she straightened his shirt as he stood in front of her. "You said you would come."
"Oh. Right. That's today, huh?" he battled her hands away from his clothes. He knew they were beyond straightening at this point. "'Kay, I'll be there. But don't expect me to stick around. You know I hate that stuff."
"I would not expect anything else," she smiled. She bit her lip. "I'm glad we did this."
He arched his eyebrows. "Had coffee?"
She laughed. "Yes. That. It was fun."
"That's one word for it," he smirked. "I'll see you later."
She nodded, and gave him a simple, quick peck on the lips. They were never into long goodbyes, anyway. He hopped into the cab as she started to walk away.
"At six, okay? Don't forget."
Of course she'd remind me. He rolled his eyes.
"Later, Sweetheart."
A/N: Thanks so much for all the messages so far! I'll try to update the story weekly, every Thursday, if people remain interested :)
So... now Effie and Haymitch (sort of) resolved all their past issues. But there's still Octavia party ahead, and Effie's future as a mother. Thoughts? Loved it, hated it? Let me know!
