Yall, PLESE keep these prompts coming! They are so juicy and delicious and my brain is in overdrive! I absolutely love them! Please leave it in a Review, though, as opposed to a message, because they're easier to keep track of that way. Thanks!

"Hello I love your fan fictions I read them all. I have a prompt can you write one where haymitch and effie are caught in bed together by chaff and the day after he Wont stop teasing them.

I hope you write this It would mean the world

Thank you if you do xx."

Bloody brilliant. Once again, I'm obsessed. I hope it's everything you wanted, Fatbumper.

THE MORNING AFTER

Rated M

Chaff moaned, his hands immediately finding their way to his aching head and over his throbbing eyes. Why was it so damned bright in his penthouse? He wanted to ask aloud who the hell opened his curtains but he knew if he talked his face would fall off.

With the utmost strength he could muster he removed his hands from his face and opened his eyes, ignoring the pain of the burn as his eyes adjusted to the light. It didn't take him long to realize he wasn't at his place at all.

He was in Haymitch's penthouse.

Well how the fuck had he gotten here?

Bits and pieces of last night started coming back to him.

His second to last night as a free man.

Bars. Drinking. So much drinking. It was his second to last night on earth, of course there was drinking.

Stumbling around the Capitol.

Capitol jail.

Effie bailing them out.

Wasn't Johanna with them at some point?

Chaff looked around. He was on their couch, in the same soiled clothes from last night, a blanket covering him, and a half-full bucket next to him.

He assumed last night had been a success, only he could barely fucking remember it.

He threw the cover off of him and slowly got up. He needed to check on Haymitch. Chaff was surely going to die in the Arena, but his death would not be in vain, so he needed to make sure Haymitch was at least alive in order to help carry out the plan.

On his way to Haymitch's he wondered if Trinket had switched them on purpose. If his floor stopped before theirs, why had she brought him here?

That woman was mind-boggling.

When Chaff neared Haymitch's room he stopped. He heard a low moan and sighed.

Shit.

His best friend was having a nightmare.

He should go in there and wake him, because none of them liked reliving their Games.

He ever so slowly turned the knob, knowing if he barged in he'd have a knife thrown at his face, and Chaff didn't want that. He'd save the knife throwing for the Quarter Quell.

He wasn't sure what he expected when he peaked inside. In all their years of friendship they'd woken the other up from nightmares enough times to no longer be surprised.

But this?

Chaff quickly realized that this was no nightmare.

Maybe for him.

But definitely not for Haymitch.

Chaff was too stunned to move, so for several moments he watched Haymitch grip Effie's hips as she rode him. Trinket had a nice back, he noted. Muscular. Good lines. He couldn't see much else, because the rest of her was entangled in Haymitch's sheets, but he could imagine how the rest of her looked.

"Cum," Haymitch said gently, and Chaff had never heard his best friend's voice like that, and he vowed he never wanted to again.

Ever again.

And he'd never seen Trinket actually listen to him. With a soft whimper Effie snaked her hands around Haymitch's, and in a move that Chaff realized was practiced, common, even, she used his hands to balance herself as she road out her orgasm.

Holy shit.

He wasn't just banging her.

This was… intimate.

Understanding that this was private, Chaff slithered out of the room, careful to quietly close the door behind him, and made his way back to the living room.

His friend was in good hands.

Always had been.

After about an hour Haymitch came in, dressed for the day. As soon as he saw Chaff he grinned, and Chaff grinned back.

The dark-skinned man held out a glass for the olive-skinned man and Haymitch sat down next to his best friend, taking the drink.

"So you were never gonna tell me?" asked Chaff.

"Tell you what?" Haymitch asked after a drink.

"That you were banging the fuck outta your Escort."

Haymitch dropped his glass and stared at Chaff. "Are you insane?" Haymitch looked around.

"You know damn well Beetee overrode the system. No one can hear us."

"You think I'm worried about Snow hearing you? I'm worried about Effie. She'll kill me. Slit my throat with those claws she calls nails. She's a redhead under that wig. She's fucking insane." Haymitch glanced around again, and deciding that he was safe, breathed a little easier. "You can't say shit like that."

Chaff watched him for several moments. "You like her."

Haymitch didn't meet his friend's eyes. Instead he bent down and picked up his fallen glass, immediately pouring another drink and gulping it down.

"Relax, Haymitch. It's not a big deal. I've suspected for years now."

"Well then you'd be wrong. This is… new."

"How new?"

Haymitch snarled. "Does it matter?"

Chaff shrugged. "Guess not. Effie's…" Haymitch glared at him. "She's different. She's good for you."

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "There's this thing called a war coming, and I really don't have time for this shit."

"Well maybe if you hadn't always been a drunk dick to her for the past twenty years you'd have had more time."

"Then saying goodbye would be even harder." Chaff's eyebrows shot up. "For her," Haymitch mumbled, taking a drink, and Chaff did the same to hide his smile. "Don't say anything, Chaff."

"I won't," he grinned.

"Not just to Effie. To anyone. It's dangerous. It was stupid, to get involved. I still don't know how it happened. One minute I was saying goodnight to Katniss and Peeta after they'd won, the next minute I was in her room undressing her. I wasn't even drunk. Totally sober. I even spent the night."

"You do know what happened," argued Chaff. Haymitch arched an eyebrow. "I bet you a bottle of your best liquor she pledged her allegiance to you. To the Rebellion. To the Mockingjay."

Haymitch slumped. "Of course she did. I had no fucking clue that all that makeup and all those wigs were a mask. I had no idea who Effie Trinket was, only I did, because I'd seen the way her eyes had dimmed over the years. The frowns. The tears. The sadness. The pills. She's fucked up. Not as bad as us, mind you. But she's broken."

"Plutarch almost wet himself when he saw that Mockingjay wig on her head."

Haymitch scowled. "I could have fucking killed her."

"I bet she thought that'd be easier than pulling your name at the Reaping."

Haymitch took another sip.

"Well if all goes according to plan, you'll have created a world where the two of you can be free to be accepted."

"Yah, if I don't die in the process," Haymitch said.

"Then you better stay alive, Soldier."

Before Haymitch could respond a pair of clicking heels had him going silent.

"Oh good, you two are up," Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort, said. "You two owe me a new pair of shoes for last night, by the way." Her hands were on her hips, and she was glaring, but her bark was always much worse than her bite when it came to them.

Chaff gave her his most charming smile. "I'm sure Haymitch has me covered."

Haymitch jerked in his seat and glared at Chaff.

"I'll have you two know that if you pull anymore stunts like you did last night I will leave you in jail."

Chaff grinned. "That'd be doing me a favor seeing I'm going into the Arena tomorrow."

"And how would you get Sponsors without me?" asked Haymitch.

"We have allies. I can work with them." Then she turned her attention back to Chaff, suddenly somber.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Trinket."

"You were always a pain in the ass," she said, her smile watery. "But there's nothing I wouldn't have done for you." Before any of them knew what was happening, Effie had embraced Chaff in a hug. After several moments Chaff hugged her back.

"Don't cry, Trinket. I'm not worth the tears."

She took a calming breath and stepped back. "I should go wake the kids. In case this is goodbye, take care of yourself, Chaff. And protect them at all costs." He nodded to her. Effie's eyes cleared as she stared at Haymitch. "Straighten that tie. And you've had enough to drink. Sponsors are waiting for you."

"Of course, Princess," said Haymitch with a roll of his eyes.

But he grabbed her hand before she could walk away, brushing his thumb over her knuckle.

Comfort.

She looked surprised, her eyes quickly darting to Chaff, before returning back to Haymitch. Soft blue met dark grey.

"We're a team, right?"

She smiled at him. "Of course we are."

"Then don't worry about Chaff, okay? Or Katniss and Peeta. You just go out there and be Effie."

She nodded, clutched his fingers briefly, and then walked away.

Haymitch backed away from the bar and started fixing his tie, ignoring the amused grin on Chaff's face.

"Don't you have training or somewhere to be?" mumbled Haymitch.

Chaff finished off his drink and then stood. "Okay, Haymitch. I can tell when I'm not wanted. I'll see you later." Chaff walked—slowly—to the elevator, but before the doors closed to take him down a floor, he called out, "You could do way worse, you know. You really could."

Haymitch sighed, heading back towards his room.

God he fucking hated mornings after. He actually thought he'd had a good morning after for once. Waking up with Effie going down on him, and then sinking down on him, had been one of his better morning-after memories.

And then Chaff came along and ruined it.

He really did fucking hate the morning after.