Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or its characters.
Chapter 2
On one particularly bad night, Haymitch and I are sitting at the kitchen table very drunk, playing a rousing game of "Remember That Tribute"
"Remember about 8 years ago in the 67th Games when that 15 year old girl from 10 was so close to getting her throat slit by the Career from 4 and she turned to face him while he had his knife pressed against her neck from behind and kissed him? He was so shocked that he didn't even see her move until she had already ripped his throat out with her teeth." Haymitch says with a big grin on his face.
"Oh yeah, I remember her" I say. And I do. She was one of the last 4. She ended up dying when a boulder crashed on top of her from the cliff she was backed into by a girl from 2. It was very gory. "What about that guy in the 70th Games from 8 who would tie his victims up by ant piles and drizzle honey all over them and watch while they were slowly eaten alive my ants?"
"Yeah, he copied that from a guy in the 51st Games" Haymitch says with a sad look on his face. Oh, that's right. He was a first time mentor in those Games. He takes a long drink straight from the bottle then settles his gaze on me. I take a drink from my bottle, our glasses abandoned hours ago, never letting my eyes leave his.
"Well sweetheart, as much as I've enjoyed playing this little game of ours, I think it's time I call it a night." And with that he stands up, sways a bit, then stumbles his way to the couch and falls down on it. I sit at the table another half hour finishing my bottle, reliving Clove and Cato's deaths in my mind. When I'm about to be sick from the images I push back from the table and try my hand at standing up. I don't sway as bad as Haymitch did. I work my way over to the couch and find him snoring. I cover him with a blanket and lean down and kiss his forehead without thinking. On my way to his room I vaguely wonder what possessed me to kiss him. I pass out on the bed before a reason can form in my mind.
My head is pounding when I open my eyes but I can smell something heavenly coming from downstairs. After a quick shower and clean clothes I'm feeling half human again. I make my way downstairs to the kitchen. When I get to the door I freeze. Standing at the stove in only flannel pants is Haymitch, cooking. Haymitch can cook? When did he learn and why has he been holding out on me? We've been eating cold leftover stew Greasy Sae has cooked for the past 2 months! As I stand there in mild shock Haymitch says "Enjoying the view? Hope you haven't died from heart failure."
"Haymitch, you can cook." It's a statement more than a question.
"I can heat up some sausage and push some eggs around in a pan until they aren't runny anymore, yes." He says nonchalantly. "But don't go getting your head in the clouds, sweetheart. This is as good as it gets."
I go to the cupboard to get some plates down. I place them down on the table next to the forks I'd just retrieved from the drawer. As he turns from the stove, pan in hand to serve up our food, my eyes fall to his bare and surprisingly well defined chest. How have I never seen Haymitch without a shirt on before? He looks good. As my eyes drift down his slightly toned stomach and slowly back up he clears his throat. "Like what you see, sweetheart?" I flush crimson as I quickly look up to his face. He's wearing that stupid smirk that I loathe. He just laughs and serves our eggs and sausage. I sit down immediately with my head and eyes looking down at my plate.
As we eat in silence I glance up at him and he's chewing with a cocky grin on his face. I roll my eyes at him and stab a piece of meat pointedly. He laughs. In a desperate move to change the subject of our thoughts I try giving him a compliment.
"This isn't half bad, Haymitch."
"Thanks sweetheart, but I know you're still thinking of my half naked body. I'm a human being Katniss, not just a piece of meat you can stab with your fork." He says mockingly.
"Oh shut it!" I huff as I push away from the table and stalk off to the couch where I unceremoniously collapse. I grab the bottle from the side table and swallow the two gulps left in the bottom. A few minutes later Haymitch comes to the living room, thankfully wearing a shirt. I roll my eyes again and scoot over so he can sit next to me. Only he doesn't sit down. I look up at him standing in front of me and ask him "What?"
"Let's go for a walk, Katniss."
"What?" I say completely caught off guard.
"Let's go for a walk, outside. You know, where the rest of the world is. You haven't stepped foot outside of my house once since we got back. Let's go for a walk. When we get back we can sit here on the couch and do nothing." He says. I consider him for a few moments and then stand up saying "Ok." He looks shocked, like he was expecting to have to fight me harder on this. He's been trying today and as unexpected as that is I find that I like this Haymitch. This 'take initiative' attitude I haven't seen from him since we were back in 13 starting the revolution. I missed this Haymitch. Before I can dwell on that too long I march upstairs to change. He follows me up the stairs and into his room. I spin to face him and ask "What are you doing?"
"Um, my clothes are in here too, sweetheart." He says.
"Oh, right." I mumble embarrassed. He grabs what he needs then heads to the hall bathroom to change. Instantly I feel horrible. My being here has forced Haymitch from his own room. I change quickly and wait for him outside the bathroom. When he comes out he curses and jumps back.
"Christ Katniss. Don't scare me like that."
I giggle "Sorry. Look Haymitch, this isn't right. I should be the one sleeping on the couch. I shouldn't be kicking you out of your own room."
"Shut up, Katniss. You're keeping the bed." He huffs as he passes me. "Plus, a real gentleman would let a lady take the bed."
"Too bad you're not a gentleman and I'm definitely not a lady. But I'll stay on the bed because I like it. It's big and warm." He mumbles something under his breath but I don't hear him.