Requested by anonymous: Oh, please do a drabble where Haymitch gets bored and plays truth or dare with Effie.


I accept

Haymitch thought he would have outgrown the game but Effie had never heard of truth or dare, and it amused him. There was no circle or the spinning of the bottle. He didn't dare her to kiss someone or forced her to tell an embarrassing truth about herself.

No, it started out innocently enough, this game that he taught her. Simple things, mostly; Haymitch daring Effie to drink that shot he bought for her (it made her scrunched and gripped his hand as it burned down her throat) or him daring her to take her wig off and show him her natural hair (she made a face and walked away) or even that one time when she hissed out of the corner of her mouth, daring him to hold off on the alcohol during one of those dinner meetings with the sponsors (he drank one glass of whiskey that night, an accomplishment in itself because losing a dare meant having to hear her gloat and that he was not prepared to go through).

But after the war, after the Rebellion, when she came to him broken and lost, the game they played changed its tune. It wasn't just simple things anymore. It was so much more.

XxX

The house was eerily quiet which wasn't surprising at all. There was hardly any conversation between them. Mostly, it was a companionable silence but it was still disturbing how withdrawn Effie had become.

He turned the knob in his hand and crossed the threshold of her room towards her bed, eyeing the lump in the middle of it.

"It's past eleven in the morning," he informed her, bleary eyed as he hovered at the side of her bed.

"Is it?" she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow. A finger scratched the scar at the back of her neck still red and fresh.

Effie was a morning person. He knew that because she would be rousing him from his sleep at seven in the morning while they were at the Penthouse.

"Don't do that," he told her, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Don't scratch. You'll make it even worse."

He knew what was wrong with her. Effie was having one of those bad days where she simply had no will power within her to do anything. It happened once or twice a week and if he didn't do something, she would be content to just bury herself under the covers and ignore the world, ignore him. There are days when he would indulge her and let her be because he knew how daunting it could be to face the world.

"Hey, Trinks," he called out softly, pulling the covers back. "Remember the game we used to play?"

She turned to her side, staring unblinkingly at the dust swirling in the room. Haymitch gripped her arm and maneuvered her so her head was resting on his lap.

"You remember that game, don't you? Truth or dare?" he tried to jog her memory, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. He couldn't remember being this gentle with anyone. Perhaps only her when they were alone. "We haven't played that in a while."

Effie blinked, looking up at him curiously. Good, he thought. A curious stare is better than a vacant one.

"I dare you to get up and get out of bed. Come on, now."

"That's not fair, Haymitch."

With a little bit of coaxing and a quiet protest from her, Effie did roll out of bed. Even if she sat hunched at the kitchen table (her past self would have cringed at that terrible posture but Effie's changed since) or if she shuffled around the house tiredly, he was still glad that she was out of her room. Effie even stood silently by his side as he fed his geese.

With the exception of her wig, Effie hardly ever backed down from his dares. Brave, Effie Trinket.

XxX

Effie healed as well as could be expected. Physically, she was well on the road of recovery with only her scars to show the horror that she had been through. Her spirit strengthened and there were lesser days where she couldn't get out of bed. Her nightmares would always haunt her but she was better at dealing with them and she had made such good progress since came to District Twelve eight months ago.

"My doctor said that if I wanted to, if I'm ready, I could return home," she told him one morning.

"To the Capitol?"

Effie handed him his coffee, taking her own time answering his question. "Yes, back there. Back home."

"That still your home?" his brows furrowed, blowing the surface of his coffee.

Her hand stilled in midair, her body stiffening at his question.

"I – I supposed so," she answered quietly. "Where else?"

"Truth?"

"Okay, truth," she nodded.

"Home isn't somewhere familiar," he told her honestly. "Home is somewhere… where you feel safe."

"Truth again?" she asked and he nodded. Effie turned to face him, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "Safe is here. Safe is with you."

"Okay," his lips quirked. He couldn't explain why he felt such a sense of elation at her words. "Dare."

Effie tilted her head curiously, waiting for his dare, wondering what it could be this time.

"I dare you to stay here with me. See if you could take it here with me and the geese and the kids next door. Wanna take it or forfeit?"

"That's not much of dare," she said, shaking her head at him.

Haymitch waited, staring at her intently. She would forfeit it. She would leave him and return home and those eight months they spent together would be just that – a memory. Effie would heal and she would go on with her life and he would still be here.

And then she said something that took his breath away.

"I accept your dare."

Effie stayed, never once did she mentioned that she would leave. Not even when he shouted at her, not even when she was angry at him. She stayed by his side, and he stood by her.

"It's been thirty years, you're still doing your dare," he said out of the blue, one night.

"I win, then?"

"You win."


I'm not sure if this is what you want. But i cannot imagine Hayffie playing truth or dare the way we often play so i hope this was alright for you.