prompt: it's oria s 1st bday and Haymitch was kinda careless with her, so effie shouted at him like and oria giggled at her mommy telling her daddy off and stuff?

And

Prompt idea because your writing is absolutely amazing: Hayffie cooking together and messing everything up because they are always sort of distracted, you know. ;)

Cooking Tips

Haymitch wandered in the kitchen, attracted by the weird noises, the one year old baby propped on his hip. Nap time was looming ahead and Oria was fussy and clingy.

"What are you doing, Princess?" he asked before he even caught sight of the chaos in the kitchen. Flour was everywhere, covering almost every flat surface, along with baking powder and other things he wasn't sure about. "Please tell me you're not cooking."

He flopped on a chair and put Oria on his lap. The baby wriggled and waved his little arms around, losing exactly no second in grabbing a wooden spoon forgotten on the table and popping it in her mouth. The leftover dough must have been as disgusting as it looked because she spat it out with a very displeased expression and used the spoon to whack against the table, all the while babbling in her usual gibberish.

Effie spared him a glare. "I am baking."

"Even worse." he snorted.

"She will turn one next week, I need to learn how to bake a birthday cake." she argued.

"No, you need to pick up the phone and ask the boy to bake a birthday cake." he retorted. "It will save anyone food poisoning."

She glared again. "You think you are so funny, Haymitch, don't you?"

"I am funny." he smirked "Right, baby girl? Your Daddy is a very funny man." He lifted Oria up well over his head and tried to play-bite her little feet. She waved them around to escape him, erupting in a fit of giggles.

"Please, be careful." Effie immediately fretted.

"She's fine." Haymitch rolled his eyes. "Tell Mommy you're fine, baby girl…" He blew raspberries against her stomach which only made her laugh louder. It was a little less funny when she whacked him on the head with the spoon. "Ouch."

"Perfect aim, that's my girl." Effie huffed, turning back to the bowl full of dough. She bit her bottom lip, read the instructions again and added some milk but it looked very uncertain to Haymitch.

"Seriously, sweetheart. We can ask Peeta." he insisted.

"No, we are not asking Peeta." she refuted. "I am Oria's mother and, as such, it is my responsibility to provide her with food."

He stared at for a few seconds, instinctively tightening his grasp on the baby when she tried to escape.

"You've been reading those shitty parenting books again, haven't you?" he accused.

"Language." she snapped, clicking her tongue in obvious disapproval. "It won't be long until she starts repeating everything we say."

"Yeah." he said smugly. "Like Daddy. Say Daddy, baby girl."

Oria waved her spoon enthusiastically.

"Dada!" she squealed, before launching into another gibberish session. It must have been a very interesting monologue because the spoon was whacked against the table twice.

Haymitch wriggled his eyebrows at Effie. Her lips were pinched and she huffed in annoyance. Oria still wasn't saying Mama or any derivation of Mommy.

"And that is why I need to provide the food." Effie argued, adding even more milk. "That's a mother's role and she clearly doesn't recognize me in the role and…"

"And I think you really should stop with the parenting books." he cut her off. "She knows you're her mother. She knows you love her." He stood up, the baby still in his arms, to peer over Effie's shoulder at the mess she was making. It was a mess. "You can provide her with food by buying it."

Effie was clearly unsatisfied with that statement, she was pouting. The pout turned into a scowl when Oria found the bowl of melted chocolate – the only thing that looked fine in that kitchen, to be honest – and dropped her little hand right in it with a delighted giggle.

"Oh, Haymitch, be careful!" Effie chided him, pushing the bowl away before Oria could splash her fingers in it again. Instead, the baby brought her hand to her mouth and licked the chocolate, drooling on her brand new dress in the process. "Haymitch." Effie hissed as if it was his fault.

"Well, you provided her with food just now, sweetheart." he chuckled.

She wasn't quick enough to avoid their daughter's grabby hand which left a chocolate print on her arm. It seemed to amuse the baby to no end because she tried applying her little hand to every possible surface, giggling and keeping a running commentary in her nonsensical language.

"She's too cute." Effie sighed. "I can't be mad at her."

"We're going to spoil her and she will grow up to be a brat like her mother." Haymitch heaved out his own sigh, resigned to his fate.

Effie whacked him on the shoulder for that last comment and opened her arms. "Come here, my darling. It is time for your nap and we need to change that dress now." Haymitch handed her the baby, peering closer at what she had been trying to do, barely glancing at her in amusement when she continued her one-sided conversation with their daughter. "We can't trust Daddy with your clothes now, can we? He doesn't even get the difference between turquoise and royal blue." Oria replied something that sounded like tetitopapadu and that might just have been an agreement. "Yes, yes, I know." Effie went on, rocking the baby on her hip. "Your Daddy is color blind. Bad, bad Daddy."

"Dada!" Oria shouted gleefully, as Effie took her out of the kitchen.

He had to snort at the impatience in Effie's voice when she replied. "Yes, we know, sweetie. But Dada isn't a good word. Try mama. Maaa… Maaa…"

It didn't take as long as he thought it would for her to put Oria down to sleep. She was back in the kitchen after ten minutes with the baby monitor that she left on the table.

"Out like a stone." she told him. "Help me with the cake, please…"

"I'm shit at that." he shrugged.

"But you cook all the time." she pouted.

He had to if he wanted them to eat something edible. She was trying but she would never be at ease behind a stove. A life of personal cooks, restaurants, take-out and deliveries would do that to you. He wasn't much better but at least he wasn't afraid the house would burn down every time he put something to boil.

"I cook." he pointed out. "I don't bake."

Effie sighed and studied her dough. "It can't be that difficult. Do you think we should add more milk? They say milk would help make it a little less…"

"Spongy?" he suggested helpfully, coming to stand right behind her. "Squashy? Squidgy?"

"You are so not helpful." she grumbled, grabbing the bowl of melted chocolate back. "This looks alright to me."

Ignoring her protest, he dipped a finger in the bowl and licked it clean. It was good.

"Perhaps we can make pancakes tomorrow morning." she offered. "I would hate to waste it."

"Sure." he agreed, dipping two fingers in the bowl of chocolate.

She was so distracted by her recipe she didn't even notice. "Now for the dough…"

She squealed when he wiped his fingers on the side of her neck but it turned into a hum when he covered the spot with his mouth, licking her skin clean.

"This won't help me bake a cake." she whispered.

"No but I have a lot of ideas about that chocolate." he snorted, adding another strike of chocolate to her neck only to lick it clean again.

"Do we have whipped cream? I think we do." she asked. "It's been forever since we did that."

Whipped cream, strawberries and chocolate… They hadn't done that since well before the end of the Games probably.

"Katniss got strawberries. I will go get them." he told her, dropping a last kiss on her neck. He doubted the girl would care about him pilfering her fridge.

"I will wait upstairs." she grinned, grabbing the bowl of chocolate and the pot of whipped cream from the fridge.

He watched her sauntering away with a smirk of his own.

Life was good.