Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. If I did, Effie and Haymitch would run away and be passionately in love forever and ever. Also I wouldn't be writing fanfic on a fanfic website if I actually owned the series…
Author Notes: Sorry for the extremely large gap between last chapter and this! I hope you like this chapter. Reviews are cool.
She followed him out of the exit and into a darkly lit alleyway behind the building in which the ball was being held. He leaned against the brick wall, pulled an alcohol bottle from the inside of his jacket, opened it with a pop, and took a long swig. Effie marched up to him and grabbed the bottle away from his hands. He clutched at the air and tried to grab it from behind her back, but failed rather badly.
"I'll give it back if you promise to go home, sleep it off, and promise to never embarrass us in front of the sponsors again."
"So, there's an 'us' now?" He smirked, making another grab for the bottle and managed to grab it from between her perfectly manicured fingernails. She was almost too infuriated to notice.
"That's the only thing you got from that? By 'us', I mean the entirety of District 12 and the people—yes, that includes me— who have worked so hard to keep these two alive, no thanks to you. I swear, if you don't go back in there and—"
She was cut off by his lips smashing clumsily against hers, as he pulled her body next to his. Before she even realized what she was doing, she started to kiss him back. Kissing him was nothing like she would have expected it to be; he wasn't sloppy, but gentle and slow. A few seconds later, she suddenly snapped to her senses and pulled away, but not before she felt her knees start to go a bit wobbly. She told herself that she hadn't felt anything, that she had drunk a bit too much alcohol, that's all.She resolved not to bring it up unless he did first. I felt nothing, I felt nothing, I felt nothing. She repeated her new mantra to herself as she tried to pull herself back together and to get the blush off of her face.
He looked more bemused than surprised when she pulled away from his tight grasp.
"Well, I can cross that off my bucket list now." He smirked. His voice was suddenly much clearer than it had been inside. The slurring was gone and his eyes were focused intently on her, not drifting off into the distance like they had been only a few minutes ago. She looked at him in surprise and he looked back at her amusedly.
"Are-are you not drunk?" she managed to spit out in her flustered state.
"Princess," he said in a derogatory tone, "did you really think that a professional drunk could get completely wasted in that time? C'mon, give me some credit. Maybe with the hard liquor at home, but not with these damn, frilly, Capitol drinks." He leaned up against the brick wall and reopened his alcohol bottle.
"Then what, may I ask, is that?" She gestured towards the glass container in his hands.
"This?" He waved the bottle in the air. "The bottle is from home, but I ran out of whiskey this morning and only had Capitol shit to refill it with. This is the stuff you're used to, sweetheart."
"Then why were you acting like that in there?" She pointed angrily at the door that led into the ballroom. "You were acting like an…like an…ass."
"Oh, the princess cursed! How dare she?" He said, mimicking her Capitol accent. "Are you really that clueless?" He asked as he switched back to his usual, gruff voice.
"Clueless? About what?" She was more confused than angry now, as she wondered what she had missed back in there. He ran his hands angrily through his greasy, brown hair and sighed harshly.
"You're not really gonna make me say it."
"Say what?" she asked while she tapped her stiletto impatiently on the concrete sidewalk. Why can't he just say whatever it is that he needs to say and leave me alone for the rest of the night? He's already wasted enough of my time out here in this alleyway. Is this about that kiss? That was odd, even for him. Well, he didn't bring it up, so I'll be damned if I do. Oh look, the princess cursed. Fuck him and his derogatory attitude towards me. Fuck him for being such a good kisser. Wait a second…Did I just actually think that? Oh dear, I really am losing my mind.
"Dammit, Effie." She started slightly at the use of her real name. "That dick was hitting on you in there and I didn't like it. You happy now?"
"I'm afraid I still don't understand." She said in a slow tone, as if she were talking to a particularly stubborn 2 year old, "Why do you care who hits on me and who doesn't? It's none of your business."
"It is too my damn business!"
"WHY DO YOU CARE?" Effie asked. She felt like she knew the answer already in the back of her mind, but she kept denying it. All of the signs pointed to yes; the kiss, the jealously. She just wasn't about to admit that she was kind of enjoying seeing him flustered.
"Dammit it, Effie. I think I love you and I can't fucking stand to see douchebags crawling all over you, trying to get into your pants. You don't deserve that." He ran his hand through his hair again and drained the rest of the alcohol from the bottle.
"Are you serious?" Effie asked him, feigning incredulity. "I always thought you hated me."
"I did, I always have. Until last year. I sobered up for a few weeks there and realized that I was working next to the most beautifully infuriating person I've ever met. Are you happy now? You got me to admit it? I fucking love you, Effie Trinket. Always will."
OHH, drama! How will she react to this sudden profession of love? Will she agree? Will she kick him where the sun don't shine?
Tune it next time!
Same bat story, same bat website
(I'm on a HMB kick right now…)
