This one is slightly smutty, so if you don't like this sort of thing, go ahead and skip it :)
Haymitch hiked up his pants as he stumbled out of the mentor control room. Damn liquor always made him have to piss. He ignored the judgmental stares he got from some of the other mentors as he left. Hypocrites. They'd all done bad things, seen bad things. Same as him. He considered it a victory that he made it to the bathroom and he didn't piss on his shoes. He couldn't be THAT drunk, then. As he turned the corner, he stopped suddenly at the sight now in front of him. Beetee, the nerd from District 3, was kissing the living hell out of his partner. He had her up against the wall, one hand under a bent knee, the other bracing them up. Her hands buried in his dark hair, her raised foot hooked behind his leg, pulling him closer.
Haymitch couldn't look away. His brain told him to turn around, leave without making a sound, but his body refused to obey. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. Beetee's hands disappeared beneath his partner's skirt, moving with enough skill that she let out breathy pants and moans. Wiress. That was her name. Haymitch had always been good with names. She was pretty enough, too. Worth learning her name.
"Please," she murmured, earning her a soft, fond laugh.
Beetee replied to her, his deeper voice not traveling far enough for Haymitch to hear. She nodded, though, eager and excited. As she brushed her hair away from her face with her fingers, Haymitch was sure that she would glance his way. Instead, she kept her face angled towards Beetee. Haymitch backed away slowly, hiding his body behind the corner of the wall, still peeking out and unable to stop watching the lovers. Lovers. Maybe that was why he was entranced. He had a good fuck every now and then, but hadn't had an actual lover in…years. And even then, he'd been young and not very patient or focused or skilled. It wasn't like this, Beetee gazing lovingly at this woman as she carefully undid his trousers.
Haymitch wondered, idly, if their tributes were out of the Games. His had died in the bloodbath and he began drinking again immediately after. He never paid much attention to who was left. His stream of thought paused as clothing shifted and he caught a good look at Wiress' bare breasts. His brain stopped whirring long enough to appreciate the view but started right back up again when he saw the couple's hands. Their fingers were interlocked, clinging to each other with a fierceness not shown in any of their other actions. He nodded and dragged a hand through his hair. Their tributes were definitely dead. They were turning to sex as surely and easily as Haymitch turned to the white liquor. Hell, if he had a willing partner like that, he'd probably do the same. Beetee was thrusting now, sure and deep, Wiress making soft happy sounds; but Haymitch no longer felt excited watching the pair. He just felt empty. Their way of relieving the pain seemed much healthier than his.
He slunk back down the corridor, away from them and back towards his bottle.