Prompt: Effie wearing Haymitch's sweater during the winter.

Clothes are Overrated

She didn't start when she heard the front door slamming shut or the heavy footsteps coming to the living-room and she felt very proud of herself. Haymitch wasn't a discreet man, he was loud, clumsy and always stumbling into furniture, so she had learned not to flinch at any loud noise – living with him was like sharing a house with a pachyderm. Sometimes, she thought he was doing it on purpose because, worse than loud noises, were the sensation of someone sneaking up on her. The rebellion had left her with so many fears and anxieties that it always felt good when she forgot to be afraid.

She turned her head toward the door with annoyance, already foreseeing all the teasing and gloating Haymitch was going to do. He only had to take one look at her, knelt next to the fireplace, an empty box of used matches next to her, before starting to snicker like a naughty schoolboy. "Trying and failing to light a fire… Isn't that just the story of your life, sweetheart."

It was teasing and not mean but it still struck a nerve. She huffed and folded her arms. "We need to get central heating set up, this is becoming ridiculous."

"I showed you how to start a fire a thousand times, that's ridiculous." he shrugged, crouching next to her to study the way she had arranged the logs in the hearth. He switched two around but seemed otherwise happy with the job she had done. "You should be able to light it. What are you doing wrong?"

She didn't particularly like his patronizing tone. Perhaps, that was a bit hypocritical of her given that she was patronizing him more often than not but Effie Trinket didn't enjoy being told she didn't know how to do something. "Talking to you, that's what I'm doing wrong." she retorted, deciding enough was enough and it was time for last resort choices. She scrambled up, ignoring his curious gaze, and went to grab one of his last bottles of alcohol.

"Don't you dare, Effie." he warned.

But she did. That was the easiest way to get that fireplace running, she had come to learn. She doused the logs and the rest of it with liquor and threw her last match. The fire roared at once. She looked down at Haymitch, who was still crouching, with a very satisfied grin.

"That was a perfectly good waste of liquor." he commented, outstretching a hand so she would help him up. "And that's my sweater."

Once he was standing upright again, she looked down at the sweater she was wearing. It was at least three sizes too big and it was falling somewhere around her naked mid-thighs. It was a shade of dark purple that reminded her of wine and it was downright ugly but it was warm and it smelled like Haymitch. She liked it. "I was cold." she said petulantly.

"I told you to buy winter clothes." He rolled his eyes, picking up the almost empty bottle of alcohol and placing it on the fireplace mantle after only a sip. She wasn't the only one doing progresses.

"I have winter clothes." she argued, sitting down on the couch and rummaging through the magazines she had left there when the cold had started to become too much and she had felt the need to light a fire.

"Long-sleeves dresses aren't winter clothes." he replied, slumping on the couch next to her. He studied one of the magazines she had discarded and threw it on the ground. "No wonder you're cold, what are you even wearing under that?"

"I may or may not have borrowed your flannel shirt." she shrugged, flipping to the page she had dog-eared for later consideration. "What do you think of those lamps? I think they would be beautiful in the dining room."

"We don't have a dining room." Haymitch objected, eyeing her with mistrust.

"Patently untrue." She smiled, going to the next marked page. "We do lack a storage room now, though, but you can put everything in the shed or in the cellar. There is no rush, of course, but it would be better if you could do it before the furniture arrive on Monday."

He stared at her like she was crazy although in her mind it was a perfectly sound reasoning and she was sure he would thank him in the end. Haymitch's house had been impractical for a lot of reasons before she moved in, mainly because he only used three rooms out of the whole house. There had been a study filled to the rim with littering and boxes upon boxes of useless things she had forced him to sort through and another room he used as a cupboard of huge proportions where he had piled up forgotten gifts from Capitol citizens from back when he was still a dashing young victor. Effie couldn't abide such a loss of space, not when they were in dire need of a dining room. The kitchen was all very well for everyday use but she liked her comfort.

"Please." he grunted. "Tell me you're joking."

"I kept it simple, don't worry." She had taken great pain to choose furniture that wouldn't make neither Haymitch nor Katniss and Peeta uncomfortable. Nothing grand, nothing outlandish, nothing that could remind any of them of the Capitol. But she wanted a nicer room in which they could have dinner when there was cause to celebrate.

"Sweetheart, why don't you buy yourself proper clothes instead of redecorating my damn house?" He rubbed his face. "It sure would make both of our lives easier."

"I have proper clothes, Haymitch." she insisted. She had given up on her most intricate pieces of clothing and her wigs when she had come to live in Twelve after the rebellion. It had been her choice, not something Haymitch had asked of her – he hadn't even asked her to come to Twelve, to say the truth, but Effie had never been afraid of going after what she wanted and she had wanted her grumpy victor back into her life. She had also needed a place where no one would stare at her on the street and whisper behind her back – which admittedly she hadn't find in Twelve but everyone knew her story and if most people would never forgive her for her past as an escort, some thought her imprisonment and subsequent tortures had been enough of a punishment. Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch's public support didn't hurt either. She was content in Twelve. It wasn't the life she would have chosen for herself, that much was true, but she couldn't picture herself going back to the Capitol now.

The first few months after the rebellion had been hellish. Nightmares, panic attacks, flash-backs… She would never have survived those without Haymitch's calm and sometimes reluctant help. Two years and she was still afraid someone would barge in one day and take her back to her underground cell and let her rot there this time.

That wasn't an idea she liked to linger on.

And more to the point, she had given up on her fashionable self willingly but that didn't mean she was about to wear unshaped woolen dresses or baggy pants like most of the women did in that part of Panem. Katniss' hunting gear wasn't her style either. She was still trying to find something that would mix warmth with beauty.

"If you had proper clothes, you wouldn't keep on stealing mine." Haymitch pointed out.

He wasn't wrong.

"Perhaps I like stealing your clothes." She faked a pout that made him tilt his head.

"Do you, now?" His smirk was slow and challenging. He tugged gently on the sweater to bring her closer, she kicked the magazine off the couch and straddled his lap as was obviously his wish. "Perhaps I want them back." he whispered, hands running up and down her naked thighs.

She took the sweater off and threw it on the other end of the couch, before tousling her blond hair with a devilish grin. "Do you want the shirt back too?"

His hands travelled to her waist, he toyed with the band of her panties for a second and then started unbuttoning the shirt from the bottom up with deliberate slowness. Effie let him have his fun, looking straight into his eyes with a challenging smile that only faltered slightly when his thumb brushed the scar under her bra. He didn't linger, knowing she didn't like it, and soon enough, he slipped the shirt from her shoulder and let it pool on the floor at his feet.

"Enjoying the view?" she teased.

"Very much." he nodded, his hands stayed on her shoulders, nudging the straps of her bra down her arms a little. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Princess."

"What am I doing?" she asked innocently, battling her eyelashes slowly. That only made him chuckle.

"Distracting me from the fact you're taking over my bloody house." His fingers danced across her shoulder blades, getting closer and closer to the clasp of her bra.

"Is it working?" She leaned in and kissed him under his jaw before nibbling at the skin, her teeth scraping on his stubble.

"You bet." he snorted, unfastening her bra.

She kept it in place with her hand, though, and got off his lap with a smug smile. She lost no time in fastening it up again. "You said you wanted your clothes back, last time I checked you didn't own feminine lingerie." Although he did gift her with a few pieces.

"Sweetheart…" He stressed the 'heart' part of the word like he always did when he was warning her that messing with him would be a very bad idea.

"I think I'm going to go upstairs and slip into proper winter clothes." she replied, exiting the room with a spring in her steps.

She silently started counting. She was at two when she heard him jump from the couch. "Like hell you are!" His arms encircled her waist and she started giggling when fluttering kisses rained down on her neck and shoulders.

Winter clothes were so overrated.