Prompt : I have a small idea for a prompt and you're my favorite hayffie writer, so I figured if anyone could think of something to do with it it would be you. Effie gets out of the bath in the morning to start her day, but when she steps out she notices her towel isn't on the rack. She figures she must have left it on her dresser, but she steps out of the bathroom to see haymitch standing in her room with just her towel around his waist.

Business As Usual

One of her towels was missing and Effie wasn't even surprised.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed another one from the cupboard, she secured it tightly around her chest, blew her hair dry and stepped into her bedroom to get dressed.

The missing towel was right there on the bed, loosely draped around Haymitch's hip. As for Haymitch, he was laying flat on his back, a wet halo under his head. She made a mental note to have the Avox change her sheets. It was more than necessary after the previous night anyway.

"This was mine." She nodded to the towel and then made a beeline for the dresser. "Why are you still here?"

"It's comfy." he shrugged.

Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. "Our interviews are scheduled in two hours. I would appreciate it if you didn't make us late for once. Go get ready."

He didn't move, he only watched as she slipped on some panties and a matching corset. "Why do you bother with that, sweetheart? It's a pain to take off."

His eyes were riveted on the pale mauve corset she was busy securing on her body. She couldn't answer until it was safely tied – not a small feat either – and then checked her reflection in the full-length mirror. The explanation was obvious to her, her whole silhouette had changed. Her breasts seemed bigger, she stood straighter and her stomach was as flat as could be. "I'm wearing haute-couture today, I need to have the figure that goes with it."

"You're thin as a toothpick already." he snorted.

She shot him a surprised glance over her shoulder. "Is that a compliment, Haymitch?"

"Not really." He had thrown an arm on his eyes to block the light. She kicked his leg more than she nudged it as she passed by him to the cupboard. He would fall back asleep if she let him and she couldn't have that. "What?" he grumbled.

"Interviews in two hours." she reminded him. "Go and get ready."

"I don't need two hours to get ready." he retorted.

She heaved an annoyed sigh but didn't try to argue. Sometimes, it was easier to leave him be than actually try to deal with him. She would get angry once she was ready. Her fingers glided over satin, lace and feathers until she selected two dresses. "Green or blue?"

"They're equally ugly." he replied without even looking.

"Haymitch." Her voice was clipped and her accent was enough of a warning. He spared a glance for the two dresses she was holding out.

"Blue." he offered. She placed back the blue one in the cupboard and took the green off the hanger which made him roll his eyes. "Why do you even ask?"

"To annoy you." She fought the grin off her lips but couldn't totally suppress it.

"You were born to annoy me." he mumbled but he was sporting an amused smirk too.

It took ten minutes for her to get in the dress and make sure it fit as it ought to. Once she was satisfied, she took care of her make-up, wig and jewelry. By the time she was done, Haymitch was deeply asleep again. She didn't make the mistake of getting too close, she could see his fingers twitching already from whatever nightmarish horror his mind was conjuring. She grabbed a pillow and she threw it at his head. He shot up, eyes wide open, arms flying wild around him to hit an imaginary opponent… The towel didn't resist the onslaught and Effie couldn't help a small appreciative – and possessive – smile.

"If you are done trying to kill air, could you please go and get dressed?" she asked, quietly enough not to startle him further. "We have little less than an hour left." He slumped forward, dropping his head in his hands. "I think you should wear the navy suit. It won't clash with my…" Her chatter died down abruptly when she caught sight of the red angry marks on Haymitch's neck. "Oh, bloody hell."

Her unusual coarseness made him look up with amusement. "What? Navy doesn't go with blue? You forgot to paint your nails? What's the big catastrophe, sweetheart?" He was sneering derisively when he stood up, letting the towel fall without a care in the world. "I need a drink."

She grabbed his arm before he could go anywhere, manhandling him until he sat back down on the bed and she could get a better look. There was no denying the reality, though. "You have lovebites on your neck."

"What?" She let him up so he could get a look in the mirror. He cringed when he saw the marks. It wasn't the kind you could mistake for something else. "Fuck. Couldn't watch the teeth, Trinket?"

Effie didn't bother replying, she was already thinking about a solution. "I can't cancel the interviews, it's too late." She bit her lower lip, mentally reviewing Haymitch's closet. She was the one in charge of his "Capitol attires" because she knew he wouldn't wear everything stylists prepared for him. She always made sure there would be enough suitable clothes but she couldn't for the life of her think of something that would hid that. "A scarf, maybe…"

"I'm not wearing a scarf." he refused, rubbing the spot.

"Well, you're not going on live-TV with a hickey the size of District Seven on your neck either!" she snapped. "How are you going to explain this?"

"Drunken accident." he shrugged.

"Involving human teeth?" she scowled not without irony.

"You would be surprised how often it happens…" His joke fell flat.

She narrowed her eyes and studied the marks more closely. It was angry red but Haymitch's skin was naturally tanned like most people in the Seam… Suddenly, she had the perfect idea. "I know what to do. Go get dressed, I will be just a second."

"You're being bossy." He turned around to stare at her. "You know what I want to do when you are so bossy, sweetheart…"

"Yes, I know." She placed her hands on her hips. "But that is not going to happen. We don't need any more hickey problems."

"And whose fault is that?" he retorted. "Do you see a mark on your neck? No."

"Have you seen my shoulder blade?" she hissed. "I can guarantee there are more lovebites there than on your neck."

"Yeah, but people can't see your shoulder blade, sweetheart, that's the difference." He looked so smug, so proud of himself… It made her want to wipe that smirk off his face.

"They can when I'm wearing evening gowns." she shot back. "Accidents happen. Don't be hypocritical."

"Maybe accidents shouldn't happen." Yet the very way he was looking at her betrayed the stupidity of that statement. She could tell an 'accident' would happen again real soon regardless of scheduled interviews if she didn't do something about it.

"We don't have time to argue about who is at fault." she declared. "For the love of everything holy, I beg you, put something on."

"Why?" he smirked, waving at his naked body. "Am I making you uncomfortable? Or do you want to get out of this ugly dress too?"

"Haymitch, we had sex in the shower." she reminded him. "There isn't going to be another round this morning."

He rolled his eyes. "Do you have a rule about the number of times you can have sex in one day? 'Cause if you do, I can remember one time when…"

"Just go and get dressed!" she snapped. She was at the end of her tether already. It would be a long day…

Small mercy, he finally left. She could hear him grumbling about her all the way to his room but she elected to ignore it. She grabbed her make-up case and followed soon after. True to his word, getting ready didn't take him long. He was already buttoning his shirt by the time she got there and he had found a bottle of whiskey.

His bedroom reeked of liquor and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Sit on the bed."

"Don't boss me around." he mumbled, taking a swing of whiskey. She snatched the bottle away despite his attempts to get it back and the string of profanities that got out of his mouth.

"Sit on the bed." she said again, holding the bottle in such a way it would be very, very easy to pour the liquor on the carpet.

He glared daggers at her but sat down. She placed the bottle on the dresser – which was already cluttered with empty glasses and bottles – and opened her make-up case.

"What are you doing?" His voice had a frightened edge to it that reflected on his face when she advanced on him with liquid foundation smeared on her fingers. He gripped her wrist before she could do anything. "You're not putting that shit on me, sweetheart." They struggled for a few seconds until she had the genius idea to sit on his lap. He let go of her wrist with a sharp intake of breath and she was quick to cover the hickeys with her darkest foundation. She didn't hide her victorious grin nor the amusement at finding him, indeed, ready for round two. He looked dejected. "You are evil."

"I prefer wicked." She pressed a kiss to his lips but drew back when he tried to deepen it. "No time, Haymitch. Where is your tie? You can't go without a tie."

She rummaged around the various drawers until she found what she was looking for while he finished buttoning up his shirt. She wrapped the tie around his neck and knotted it for him, making sure it was fashionable but not too ostentatious. He would throw a fit if it was and they didn't have time for that.

"I feel like you're putting me on a leash." he complained, sliding a finger between the shirt collar and his neck to loosen the knot. She triple-checked but with the tie and the foundation, the hickeys were out of sight.

"Perhaps later, dear." she teased, before checking her thin golden watch. "Just in time."