Prompt : Hello, if you're still excepting prompts could you please write on during the 74th hunger games where Haymitch finds Effie's diary?:)

Hi, everyone! Just a bit of warning, this one features some mature contents (not much because I don't actually write smut but still if you're uncomfortable with that…). Also, this one wasn't beta-read so every mistakes is on me.

Dear Diary

On entering the penthouse, Effie was relieved to hear the clanging of glass on glass in the living-room. She had been afraid of having to chase Haymitch down in all the bars of the Capitol. She stepped in the living-room just when he slumped on a chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes were a little unfocused but not too much, he wasn't quite drunk yet.

"You have a very boring life, sweetheart."

She frowned but didn't let his inanities disturb her, she was well-used to them by then. "If you say so."

"I say so." He nodded before reaching in his pocket and waving a small brown notebook in the air. Her brown notebook specifically.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. She pinched her mouth in annoyance though. "Where did you find that?"

"In your room." he replied, carelessly flipping through the pages while drinking his whiskey. "This is seriously depressing stuff."

"What were you even doing in my room?" she sighed, walking to the liquor cart to pour herself a smidgen of wine.

"Looking for you." He shrugged and continued to read tiny bits here and there. It didn't bother her. There was nothing of personal interest there, there was no hidden secret in her diary. She used it to keep track of whoever said what at whatever party or event she was attending. Knowledge was power and Finnick wasn't the only one dealing with secrets. If Haymitch had hoped for juicy ammunitions to use against her, he must have been very disappointed.

"Under my pillow?" She rolled her eyes, manners be damned, and took a sip of wine. He wasn't stupid enough to venture another explanation which was for the best because they had worked to do and she had no time to lose in a screaming match. "I talked to a few people. They're still talking about us. We might actually get sponsors this year." She had spent the day wandering around the square and the sponsors lounge, trying to get a feel of the situation. Katniss and Peeta had made quite an impression thanks to Cinna and Portia's work at the Opening Ceremony but that wouldn't be enough in the long run.

"I know, sweetheart." he replied absent-mindedly, still focused on her notebook. "I talked to some people too. I was out all day."

Miracles did happen.

"The boy is cute. I think we should play that angle in the interviews." she mused, leaning against the couch. She didn't want to sit down, she was afraid she would never be able to get up again. It was exciting to finally have tributes with a chance to win but that had already happened once or twice in the past. They had let themselves believe and that had never come to anything. The odds had never been that much in their favor, though. Everybody was talking about Katniss, her name was on every lips. The girl on fire… The Gamemakers would note their performance in a few days and that could do or undo Katniss. They could play the boy-next-door card with Peeta regardless on his score but Katniss has nothing but her sister and that wouldn't be enough. "The girl is too withdrawn, too…"

"Too damn stern?" he snorted, finally letting go of the notebook to look at her. "I noticed. She's unpleasant. We could sell the fighter. Broody warrior and all that crap."

"There are too much fighters this years, she will be lost in the midst." Effie argued. "We need another angle, we need to make her… unique. We need to go with the girl on fire story."

"I told Cinna to roll with that for her dress already." Haymitch sighed. "It's her the problem. She can probably hold her own in the arena but she's not a public person. Good luck selling her."

"I agree." she hummed. "I will coach her for the interviews, you can take care of the boy. She needs to learn how to be desirable, she needs to learn how to make people envy you… If they want her they will sponsor her."

"'Cause you know a lot about being desirable, right?" he chuckled, downing the rest of his glass and putting it on the floor.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do." She glared daggers at him but that only seemed to increase his amusement.

"Not according to that, you don't." He threw the notebook on the coffee table and stood up slowly.

"Haymitch." she warned, putting her glass back on the liquor cart because she knew where this was going and she didn't fancy explaining why wine had spilled everywhere.

"Yes, funny, I didn't see that name a lot in your diary…" Was he pouting? Was he actually pouting? She almost burst out laughing.

"You didn't look hard enough." she retorted, stepping back quickly because he was still slowly walking closer to her and she knew that look. "I'm sure I wrote down how insufferable you are. Several times."

"Yeah…" he said, still coming closer. Except she had nowhere to go now, she was trapped between him and the bay window. "But where is the real stuff, sweetheart?" He placed his hands on her waist and she breathed in instinctively. She was wearing a grey high-cut pencil skirt and a silk balloon-sleeved pink blouse, she could feel the warmth of his hands through the fabric. "Dear diary," he smirked, pressing his mouth on her jaw, not exactly kissing but rather brushing against her skin. "I'm all hot and bothered for Haymitch Abernathy."

"Was that what you were looking for?" she challenged but her voice came out unsteady. Her mouth was parched, she licked her lips. "We have work to do. Be reasonable."

He popped open the first three buttons of her blouse and put his hand on her chest, his smirk only widening. "Dear diary," he teased "my heart races when he touches me just there."

How he managed to undo the rest of the buttons in one go, she didn't know. It was a special talent of his. In a matter of seconds, the blouse was open, untucked and they were kissing like there would be no tomorrow.

"You are horrendous." she hissed, angrily unbuttoning his white cotton shirt. "The children…"

"Will be in training for another hour." He rolled his eyes and stopped working on removing her belt so she could slip the shirt down his arms. She hummed with contentment at the sight of his bare chest and attacked immediately, nibbling and kissing in turns, hands roaming on the new uncovered skin. "Dear diary," he mocked. "I really enjoy marking my territory."

She hooked a leg behind his and tugged so she could switch their position and he was the one pinned against the window. His laugh was low and short but it rumbled against her chest and she loved it because it was genuine. Haymitch rarely laughed. She admired the collection of hickeys on his chest, safe from prying eyes, and smiled with satisfaction. It contrasted sharply with the myriad of scars but the love bites were good memories, the scars were nothing but painful to look at because of what they meant. She didn't mind them really, she didn't find them ugly or disgusting like, she was sure, most women in the Capitol would, but they made her uneasy if she looked at them too long because of what he had endured, of what her people had made him endure. It made her angry and sad and a lot of things she didn't want to look at too closely.

"Quite so." she confessed without any shame. "Is there something else I can mark my territory on?" Her fingers lingered on his belt and then as if she had changed her mind, she bit his shoulder. He moaned in frustration and she grinned in triumph.

"Sweetheart." he groaned "You're a tease."

"Careful or I will show you how much of a tease I can be." she warned him, pressing her lips against his slowly. "I could just walk away and leave you here."

His arms sneaked around her waist immediately and trapped her against his chest. "You would miss the next entry in your diary, a shame." One of his hand shot for her wig but she stretched her neck to avoid that.

"No." She nudged him in the calf. "You will make a mess and it will take hours to get it back on. The wig stays."

"Dear Diary…" he teased, still trying to get the wig off while she wiggled and tried to escape his grabby fingers. "I love it when Haymitch…"

They both froze at once.

It took a second for Effie to pinpoint what had startled them and then she heard it. The humming of the elevator. She bolted away from Haymitch a moment before it chimed. She hastily buttoned her blouse and tucked it in but Haymitch was slower and his shirt was barely on his shoulders.

"I hate you." she grumbled. "You can put that down as my next entry." She marched out of the living-room before anyone could walk in and deduced what they had been doing. She closed the door behind her just in time to find herself face to face with Portia.

Ah… That was something they had forgotten : stylists. They weren't used to working with stylists who actually cared and showed up unannounced to talk about their tributes. Cinna and Portia were very nice, though, and she was glad to have made their acquaintances.

"Portia, dear!" she exclaimed, slipping back easily in the role of the escort. Her voice was cheerful, her smile was polite and she was welcoming.

Portia's sweet smile morphed into a frown. "Is everything alright with you, Effie? You… Well." She waved at her chest uncertainly.

Effie looked down and flushed crimson when she saw that she had missed a button somewhere along the way, not to mentioned her silk blouse was creased beyond repair. "Wardrobe malfunction." she laughed, arranging her clothes quickly. She also pulled down her skirt while she was at it because it was riding a little higher than it ought. Damn Haymitch. "You know how it goes."

"Yes…" Portia didn't look convinced but her frown soon turned into a grin. "If I may, your wig is crooked and you might want to check your lipstick." Portia was clearly fighting to keep a straight face. "It was rude of me to barge in like that, I apologize. I will come back later, I just wanted to let you know about my ideas for Peeta's interview."

"Nonsense." Effie waved her apologies away and walked to the mirror in the hallway to adjust the wig and wipe the smudged make-up from her chin. "It's just one of those days, you know?" She faked a laugh. "I've been running around all afternoon. You wouldn't even believe how exhausting that job is but I'm very excited to hear what you have planned. Do tell."

Portia seemed to hesitate. "Are you quite sure you don't want me to come back later?"

She reassured her again because it would have been odd to send her away now. "Should we go in the living-room?" she suggested, hoping Haymitch had enough time to sort everything out. She could admit to a slight tinge of apprehension as she guided Portia to the room and offered her something to drink but everything looked in perfect order. Haymitch was slumped in his chair nursing another drink, the notebook was nowhere to be seen and her glass of wine was on the coffee table obviously waiting for her to come back. She was happily babbling about all the compliments people had made on their tributes' outfits this year and pointedly ignoring Haymitch's idiotic comments when she felt Portia stiffened behind her. "Is there a problem, dear?"

"Silly me…" Portia said, biting her lower lip to fight back a very obvious grin. "I just remembered I had to meet Cinna down at the Square. I will come back later, you just… get back to whatever you were doing." She winked at Haymitch and disappeared before Effie could even dream of asking what that was about.

"I like her." Haymitch declared with a smirk, taking hold of the glass of wine to hand it to her.

"You like everything wearing a skirt." she sighed, snatching her glass away.

"Not true, sweetheart." He sneaked a arm around her waist and pulled her on his lap. She gasped but she was too focused on not spilling the wine to fight him. "I do like you in a skirt though. I like you even better without one." His hand ran up her thigh.

"Really, Haymitch, one close call wasn't enough for you? You…" She fell silent when she caught sight of a small detail. "I am going to commit a murder." She put the glass down and pinched his shirt between two of her fingers. "You shirt is inside out, Haymitch." Not to mention it was stained with lipstick but that was her fault, she supposed.

"Oh." He made a face. "Sorry. I was kind of in a hurry."

"Sorry?" she repeated in a huff. "Now Portia knows!"

"She won't tell anyone." He rolled his eyes. "Relax, Princess, would you?"

She scowled. "How do you want me to relax when…" His mouth crashed on hers, effectively rendering her silent. Haymitch knew how to kiss her senseless and that was just what he did. She melted against his chest.

"Relaxed yet?" he teased.

"I'd rather relax in my room." she retorted with a pointed look. "Where there is a lock."

"I like the way you think, sweetheart." he smirked.

She couldn't help but shriek and giggle when he carried her to the bedroom. Maybe she should underline insufferable in her notebook because Haymitch really was.