prompt : When you get a spare moment, please could you write me something gut wrenchingly angsty/ fluffy/ lovey/ kissy. Something that will make my heart bleed Hayffie goodness teehee, coz everything you write makes me so happy :) Maybe something happens that make hayffie almost share a 'moment' then get interrupted, but it becomes an eye opener that leads to more frequent 'moments' until one or either can't stand it anymore and decide to make the first move? Just...if you want ;D xxx FEELS!
Confesson: I move that one to the front of the line because the person who left it was having a bad day so...
Also, someone left a prompt in an anonymous review about Haymitch marrying Effie in MJ to protect her against Coin. I talked about it with Akachankami and we really fell in love with the idea, so if that person had a tumblr or something, Akachan would like to follow her/his (or more generally fangirl about hayffie I think and I would love to fangirl too obviously) so I don't know, just... message one of us? On tumblr, akachankami is still akachankami :)
Moments
Euphoria.
That was the proper term, Haymitch thought. For a minute, a tiny, beautiful fleeting minute, he was encompassed in a bubble of pure glee. At the announcement that Katniss and Peeta were the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, he jumped from the couch, a fist in the air and a victory cry on his lips. Everything else was forgotten for a short while, the berries, the troubles that would surely rain down on them later, the actual situation… Everything was forgotten but the fact that they had won. At last. No body bags to send back to Twelve. No inconsolable mother to avoid in the streets. No revengeful father to be weary of. No new faces to haunt him at night. They had won.
Euphoria.
Effie was laughing and crying at the same time. She had jumped on her feet too at the announcement and when he turned to her, a smile so wild it actually hurt on his lips, she threw her arms around his neck. He made her twirl. He was laughing too now. They were both laughing and he was making her twirl like they were eight years old and completely crazy.
"Stop!" she panted, between two rounds of laughter. "Stop, we will fall!"
He stopped but as he looked down into her eyes, he couldn't help the treacherous thought that they had already fallen. Laughter died on her lips. She had pretty lips despite the fact they were painted blue. Her eyes were blue too. So, so blue he could probably get lost in them if he let himself drown. Her breathing caught and then quickened audibly. He wasn't laughing anymore either. Time had stopped it seemed. His hand found her powdered cheek, glided to her neck, her fingers were clutching his shirt, her eyes were wide, her pink fake eyelashes fluttering up and down at impossible speed…
"Haymitch…" she sighed and it was all he needed really. He leaned in, heart racing in his chest, with the feeling that nothing was impossible. He was invincible, victorious, daring and unafraid again like he had not been since his teenage years.
Euphoria.
Their lips brushed and the elevator chimed.
"You need to get your ass down there ASAP!" Chaff's voice boomed through the penthouse. "Where are you? Haymitch!"
The bubble burst.
They bolted away from each other and avoided each other's eyes.
They avoided each other's eyes for days.
He wasn't used to things being awkward with Effie and he was glad when they were finally allowed to get back to Twelve. He was glad when he saw the train slither away from the District with her on board. Glad and a bit sad, but it was for the best he told himself. There was no hope in that story, there was a reason they had always diligently ignored any attraction they could feel for each other. There was no hope for that story and Haymitch needed to bury those desires six feet deep before Victory Tour.
Except he didn't manage to.
An almost kiss was worse than an actual kiss.
An almost kiss was full of possibilities, of what-ifs, of things left unsaid… All those months and he couldn't stop replaying the Moment in his mind. It deserved a capital M. The memory was so powerful he couldn't drown it in liquor or swat it aside with more important considerations like the numerous uprisings he suspected were happening all over Panem. The Moment was like a disease that invaded every portion of his mind one after the other until there was no space left in his head but thoughts of her.
He missed her heavy perfume even though he hated it because it made him want to sneeze, he missed her glaring and her exasperated sighs, he missed the colors she brought everywhere with her, he missed the gentle way she would brush his hair from his face when he was too drunk to do much but let her drag him to his room and help him into bed all the while insisting he could do it by himself.
It infuriated him how she had sneaked into his head because now wasn't the time to get lost in that kind of pining.
He drank more, it only made him yearn for her harder. The nightmares were changing too. Always the arena, always his family, always the tributes he couldn't save but she was in there too now. She was in there and he couldn't save her. He lost her, night after night, and this was slowly drawing him to the brink.
It was just an almost kiss. He didn't understand how things could have gone downhill so quickly.
For Katniss and Peeta, Victory Tour sprang upon them too quickly. Haymitch had been guiltily craving it for weeks.
When she finally arrived, she looked like a snowflake. He spied on them all from his bedroom window, safely hidden behind a dirty curtain. The prep teams, the stylists and the escort clad in white fur. He could hear an echo of her cheerful voice even though the windows were closed. The group divided into two and took the direction of Peeta and Katniss' houses, Effie stayed in the middle of the street.
She looked unchanged, he mused. Her familiar irritating self. He was probably the only one affected by the Moment, he figured. That would be just his luck to be obsessed with a woman who wanted nothing to do with him. It sure would be best, though. Easier to control this little infatuation of his.
He was about to go back to his drinking before someone remembered his existence and pushed him aboard the train when she lifted her head. It was like a sixth sense. She turned her face in the direction of his house with a frown, their eyes met. Something warm twisted in his stomach. It wasn't desire exactly, it was…
Her smile was small and uncertain. She nodded to him and hurried into Katniss' house. She fled, rather.
Perhaps he wasn't the only one haunted by almost kisses.
Victory Tour was every bit as hellish as he had feared it would be. The tension between him and Effie made it worse.
He was sure Cinna and Portia had picked up on it from day one. It would be hard not to. They startled each time their fingers brushed – when he was passing her a glass or when she was handing him a schedule. She blushed and he swallowed hard and yet they found more excuses to give things to each other. Glasses of wine, papers, salad bowls… Haymitch could feel Cinna's worried eyes following him and Portia's amused grin each time his back was turned. He was careful to never be left alone with Effie.
When the screen went blank in Eleven, after Katniss' little untimed burst of eloquence, Haymitch immediately drew the worst conclusion. The room they were standing in was full of Peacekeepers and there was no exit in sight. At the first gunshot, he stepped in front of Effie and pushed her behind him, as useless as it would be.
She didn't ask anything because Effie was nothing but stupid. She knew what was happening out there, how could she not? The stupid frivolous silly escort was just a necessary act. She must have also known that if the Peacekeepers – or anyone really – decided to kill them all there was nothing any of them could do. Cinna was shielding Portia too but the woman was having none of it, she stepped out of his shadow, gripped his hand and they waited their fate side by side.
Effie leaned against his back, rested her forehead on the nape of his neck, hands on his waist, clutching his shirt. Her breathing was quick and afraid.
The doors burst open, the kids were ushered in, Katniss was in total hysterics and Haymitch decided they were safe. He didn't know for how long that was, but for now, they were safe. He stepped away from Effie quickly and marched to his victors, grabbing arms and dragging them to a place he could speak to them in peace. It was hell and he was afraid they would never get out of there alive. Somewhere along the line, they all would become more than the Capitol could bother with.
He glanced back before leaving the room, taking in her frightened eyes and trembling lips. She lifted her chin proudly and stood a little straighter, mouth pinched in what could pass for a soldier-on smile. She wasn't made for war but you didn't choose war, it chose you.
It killed him to see her involved in this. It killed him to know he couldn't protect Katniss or Peeta, least of all himself, and he absolutely had no idea how he would protect her if it came to that. They were all in it now.
Later, when they were back on the train and it was late enough the others had gone to bed, he sneaked in her room. She stood up from her dresser-table, startled and stayed there, in the middle of the room, in her pink satin dressing gown, not confused exactly but uncertain. The wig was gone and blond hair curled around her head and just past her shoulders, the make-up was gone too and she looked younger, more vulnerable. He had always thought seeing her without all that crap would be a big revelation but it wasn't. She was still Effie. More attractive certainly, less ridiculous too, but still Effie.
He didn't dare stepping closer, he didn't dare reaching out for her because he knew there would be no coming back and now wasn't the time or the place. They were out of luck. She must have known it too because she crept closer, so close her pink dressing gown was brushing against his jacket, but she didn't touch him.
He wouldn't have been able to tell how long they stood there, in a hug that wasn't a hug, breathing each other smell, swaying in the other's space, eyes closed and hands tingling with the need to touch. When he finally got enough sense to step back and out of her room, without a single word being exchanged, he was feeling dizzy, angry and frustrated all at once. Cinna was standing in the corridor, mouth pinched in a hard line, a disapproving frown on his face. Haymitch only glared before pushing past him. He didn't need to be told that was a bad idea. He knew everything about it.
The next morning, Portia's amusement had faded away too and she was acting colder with him than she ever did before. Haymitch thought it had more to do with Effie's uncharacteristic dejected attitude than Cinna's own misconception but he couldn't tell for sure.
Only the kids remained oblivious.
Cinna took him to his first rebels meeting when they were in Four. He wasn't surprised to find Finnick and the other Four's victors minus Annie Cresta there but he felt distinctly relieved. He and Cinna had been good friends from the start but something had changed and that something, Haymitch would have bet, had to do with the odd dance he and Effie were dancing. He didn't learn much more than he already knew at the meeting, it was mostly babble about which District was susceptible to rise first.
"You don't want her involved in this." Cinna said, seemingly out of the blue, as they were going back to the train.
"Like you're not involving Portia?" he snorted because he had never dealt well with hypocrisy.
"She's already involved." Cinna sighed. "Look, Effie is my friend too but it's safer for her to be left out of this."
"Is it?" he mused. He didn't think being kept in the dark was safer, if anything, it certainly could become more dangerous.
"You can't trust her." Cinna avoided his eyes. "I'm sorry, Haymitch, we can't take the risk. We can try to protect her, we can be friends with her but we can't trust her. Don't get involved."
It was eight years too late for that warning.
Shit really hit the fan in Six. They managed to keep the kids unaware of the series of executions happening right outside the doors but it was a close thing. Effie flinched at every loud noise for the rest of the evening.
He was drinking in the living-room cart, trying to puzzle out how exactly his life had gotten so complicated – and it almost made him regret the bad old days before Katniss and her volunteering – when she found him. She was still dressed despite the late – or early depending on the point of view – hour and she slumped next to him on the couch without any of her usual poise. She didn't pause to consider before taking hold of his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders and folding her legs against her chest so they were mostly on his lap. She burrowed against his side with a sigh that made him think she had been fighting with herself over the decision to come there for some time.
He closed his eyes and wished he was strong enough to get away from her. If you loved her, set her free, they said, but he had no way to set her free. He had never caged her in.
"I've been thinking…" she started slowly and he couldn't help a snort.
"Don't strain yourself, sweetheart." It was automatic, really.
"Seriously, Haymitch?" she hissed with irritation. "You are going to make fun of me right when I am trying to tell you…"
"I don't think you should tell me anything." he cut her off, before taking a sip of whiskey.
She grabbed the glass from him and downed it in one go before handing it back. He put it down without commenting on her unusual behavior but found himself with an empty hand. It seemed natural to take hers, his thumb traced her knuckles slowly back and forth, all the while knowing it was a bad idea.
"What are we doing?" she asked in a broken whisper. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her forehead pressed against his jaw.
"I don't know." he answered truthfully. "A mistake."
Because it had to be.
"I don't do mistakes." Effie objected, turning her hand so their palms slid against each others. She intertwined their fingers purposely.
And neither did he. "Effie…"
"People are dying all around." It was hushed and rushed like she was afraid of being heard. It wasn't only about what had happened in Six or in the other Districts, he figured, there was more to the story than that. "It is happening in the Capitol too, Haymitch. One of my friends disappeared last month. She's nowhere to be found. Other people have gone missing."
His jaw clenched. It didn't surprise him to be honest. There were others in the Capitol like Cinna and Portia, people who didn't believe in the Games. "You need to be careful."
"I am always careful." she argued.
"You're not being careful right now." he shrugged. "I could report you. You shouldn't trust me. You shouldn't trust anyone. Not me, not your so-called friends…" Cinna's little speech was still ringing in his ears days later. The stylist cared for Effie, Haymitch believed as much, but he cared for the rebellion more. "Don't trust Cinna and Portia."
The warning made her frown. "Portia is…"
"Not trusting you." he said. "You're clever, sweetheart, so play it clever. Be close to everyone and friends with nobody."
She stayed silent for a few seconds. She didn't ask how he knew all this but he could tell she had guessed. Uprisings, rebels… Those were fleeting rumors during each Games. Everybody heard them, even escorts. She must have guessed what Katniss had begun, she was as determined as he was to make everyone believe in the love story between their victors even though she very well knew it had been carefully fabricated.
"Don't you feel the pull?" she asked at last, turning her head so she could see him. He had trouble swallowing. She was too close and her heavy perfume was all he could smell. Pomegranates, he thought, or something equally heady.
The pull she was talking about made him lean in just a little bit. Their lips brushed. That wasn't clever. Haymitch had always prided himself on his wits but that wasn't clever. He should have turned away while he still could, put some distance between them.
Distance didn't work so well before the Victory Tour.
Suddenly, there was another Moment, right there, right then. Time slowed down and stopped, as their breathing blended together rolling on each other's lips. She would taste like the chocolate cake she had eaten for dessert, he guessed. Her long fake eyelashes grazed his cheek when she angled her head for a kiss that took its time in coming. His fingers hesitantly trailed up and down her offered throat, marveling at the shiver that ran through her body.
"That's not a good idea, sweetheart." he whispers against her lips.
As bad as almost kisses were, he feared what an actual kiss would do to him.
"We could be dead tomorrow, that's the best idea we ever had." she countered. She took the decision for both of them, she pressed her mouth against his and he remained irresponsive at first, too aware of what was at stake, but then she cupped his cheek and deepened the kiss and he was lost. If he had thought time had stopped before, that was nothing compared to what was happening at that precise second.
Everything stopped.
The constant fear, the anxiety, the nagging worry… Everything disappeared in her kiss. There was nothing left but the feeling of her lips against his and the perfect way her body fitted in his arms. He had been wrong before. Those moments in the penthouse and that one just a few minutes earlier? It didn't deserve a capital M. This one did .
"Haymitch…" she sighed, when their lips parted – oh so ever slightly – so they could take a breath.
There was adoration and desire in that sigh. Cinna was wrong, Haymitch realized. He could trust Effie. He already trusted Effie. He would trust her with his life if he had to. He knew her.
He felt a sense of elation bursting in his chest and, even though he knew it would be short-lived, he gave himself to it. There were very few things in his life he took pleasure from. Alcohol was one, Effie, it seemed, was another. Haymitch was a selfish man, he didn't get to experience that feeling often enough.
Euphoria.