I am not affiliated with Hunger Games the book or the movie.
As always, rated M for language and sexual content.
Chapter 2: Cussing rhymes with what?
Haymitch was lying in a pool of his own vomit. It was the least attractive thing that Katniss had ever seen. Her mother had given him a certain kind of medicine for alcohol that, if a person even tastes alcohol they'll instantly throw it up. Apparently, Haymitch had been trying to use rubbing alcohol that way. Katniss shook her head, bending over him to wipe up some of the vomit. This wasn't supposed to go this way; Haymitch was supposed to be taking care of her.
"Haymitch, you'll have to sit up." She said, pushing the hair out of his eyes. He sighed and started to get up, but only to vomit again. She mopped up the stuff from his mouth and face, then began again on the floor.
"Don't you have a bucket somewhere?" She asked him, looking at the disgusting floor. She had completely detached herself, enough so that the smell and the look didn't even bother her. She was irritated but that was about it. She finished, handing a decaying metal bucket to Haymitch.
"Please upchuck in this bucket. I won't clean up after you anymore." She said, throwing the towel soaked in vomit into the fire. It was kind of cold, so the fire was about their only source of heat; besides a blanket. And there was only one blanket.
After a couple hours, both Haymitch and Katniss were in pain again. Katniss curled up on the rug on the floor. They both had to sleep there; the couch wasn't stable enough for either of them. Haymitch sat down next to her, wiping beads of sweat from his brow.
"I thought this was for you, yet you're faring better than me somehow." He said, his voice unsteady. He'd only quit puking about half an hour before. She shrugged.
"I am just really good at hiding my pain." She said, curling herself up into a ball. She shivered a bit. "Just how cold is it supposed to get?" She asked, knowing there was no way for him to know that answer.
"I'd have to guess pretty cold." He said, pulling the blanket up off the floor. Katniss always left one side of it lying on the ground for him. Haymitch slid down next to Katniss, shivering as he covered with the blanket. It was barely sufficient for one person, let alone two.
They both managed to fall asleep for a bit. But according to the moon, which Katniss glanced at after waking abruptly, it was about 2 am. She shivered; it was the coldest night they'd had in a long time. Their fire had started dying down, but there wasn't enough coals to start a new fire. Instead, she moved an inch closer to Haymitch, hoping that she could somehow steal some warmth from him.
He grunted and whispered, "Don't take this as a come on, sweetheart." He started, moving closer. "I just need some heat". It was so cold; Katniss didn't even try to reject it. She scooted closer too. He wrapped his arm around her, spooning into her. She felt awkward, but it felt good because of how cold she'd been.
"What is your favorite nursery rhyme?" She asked, trying to push the awkwardness away.
"I used to make my own." Haymitch said, his thumb absentmindedly stroking Katniss' hip through her shirt.
"What did you rhyme?" She asked, trying not to concentrate on how good it felt to be touched.
"Just whatever. Usually cuss words wrapped into the stupid childhood rhymes I'd heard growing up." He said, moving just a bit closer to Katniss. Her body against his did help with the heat, but there was something about lying with Katniss that relaxed him and made him nervous at the same time. It wasn't a feeling he could equate with anything.
"Give me an example." She said, wrapping her hand around his hand; effectively ending all of the stroking his thumb had been doing. She liked holding his hand. Her body was having a different effect, but she ignored it.
"Cussing rhymes with what?" He asked, trying to start an impromptu rhyme. The hand that Katniss was hold was sweating. He hadn't held a girls hand... well ever. He thought he may like it.
"Fussing." She said, rubbing her finger over his hand.
"You want me to rhyme cussing with fussing." He said, squeezing her hand gently.
"Just shut up, Haymitch." She said, turning in his arms as she let go of his hand. Their lips met, rather briefly but it still felt good. She looked into his eyes and saw the same burning there that she felt.
He was a bit startled, but he kissed her back, his hands falling onto her hips. Their kiss was full of something he couldn't describe, but knew to be longing. He pulled away, only because other parts of his body had begun to react. He wasn't a virgin, but he was quite sure Katniss was. He smiled as gently as he could.
"Sweetheart, we're going to get into trouble if we keep kissing." He said, more sweetly than he had ever said anything to her. He imagined her as a porcelain flower and he wasn't going to be the one to break her.
"I like trouble." She whispered, looking into his eyes.
"You'll be the death of me." He said, turning away.
"Goodnight, Haymitch." Katniss said, her voice disappointed.
"Goodnight, Katniss." He said back, feeling just as disappointed as she seemed to sound.