Could you please do a fic where Effie an haymitch visit Effie's family as a follow up from today's one shot? Maybe they insult Effie like she thought they would and when she goes back to her apartment and cries haymitch looks after her?

AND

This one is probably my favorite... I would love to see a continuation of it where Haymitch gets really mad about how Effie's family treats her. Perhaps he even goes as far to tell them off about how rude they are. -Thanks

AND

Can you continue "ghosts reflection" where Effie's whole family comes to visit her and start treating her bad by critizing her and calling her ugly and stuff.. And hay Mitch gets mad by the way their treating Effie and he becomes protective. If you have the time to continue I'd be ecstatic! Thanks!

Ghost Reflection was chapter 144 – I wrote it before other prompt because I had it in mind already – I think this one can stand alone =)

A Not-Proposal and A Meeting

Haymitch knew something was wrong when Effie slammed the front door shut – she never ever slammed doors and she constantly told the kids off about doing that at home – but he couldn't say he was utterly surprised. They had been in the Capitol for two days already and she had put off visiting her family as much as she could despite his insistence that she didn't need to do anything she didn't want to and that they could simply go back to Twelve. He checked the huge white clock mounted on the wall next to the TV screen and estimated she couldn't have spent more than two hours at her parents.

With a sigh, he got off the couch and went in search of her, all the while cursing her ridiculously big apartment. He found her in the kitchen, banging cupboards open and closed.

"How did it go?" he asked even though it was an idiotic question – and she made him aware it was an idiotic question by glaring daggers at him. "Okay. What happened?"

Cups, teacup and the tea Katniss had gifted her with before they took the train for the Capitol were mercilessly banged around in her irritation.

"Exactly what you said would happen." she gritted her teeth. "They infuriate me. You were right, are you happy?"

He rolled his eyes, grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the counter and poured himself a drink, ignoring her disapproving glance. It was only his fourth glass that day and they had a deal, he refused to feel guilty about it. "You're upset so, no, I'm not particularly happy, sweetheart."

She softened and stopped assaulting the tea pot. "On the bright side, they only commented on my lack of fashionable outfit and accessories once."

"What did they do, then?" he frowned, sipping his whiskey slowly.

"Oh, nothing really important." she replied bitterly. "They simply stated that it was time for me to come back to the Capitol and marry a respectable Capitol man of good breeding before the whole family dies of shame."

"Do I get an invitation to your wedding?" Haymitch chuckled, leaning on the counter to look at her.

"Stop it." she commanded without any real fire to it. She sneaked her arms around his waist and buried her face in his neck. He placed his whiskey down to embrace her back. "Apparently, and I quote, I am a disgrace to the Trinkets' name. They're ashamed of mentioning me in polite society."

"You do live in Twelve with a notorious drunkard, so…" he teased, pressing a kiss against the side of her neck.

"They drove me to such fury I'm afraid I've been very rude." she confessed in a whisper.

"Did you curse at them, Princess?" he smirked, more amused by the idea than he should have been.

She leaned her cheek on his shoulder and remained silent for a few seconds. Strands from her stylish bun were tickling his face but he didn't say anything.

"I told them that since I wasn't welcome to their name anymore, I would stop using it and take yours instead." she explained after a while. "And then I stormed out and slammed the door. Mother will be so furious with me."

"About slamming doors or taking my name?" he asked before the implications of sharing a name finally hit him. "Sweetheart, are you proposing?"

Silence stretched even longer this time.

"Perhaps?" It was tentative and more a question than a statement.

He drew her back a bit so he could look at her in the eyes. "Do you want to marry me?"

"Are you proposing now?" she frowned.

"No." he replied at once. It was instinctive really.

"Oh." Her face fell in disappointment.

"You want to get married?" he insisted because she had been talking about that an awful lot in the last few months but he thought she was only joking.

"I just…" She leaned against him again and seemed relieved when he didn't push her away but held her tightly. "I am a very shallow person who would really like a pretty white dress. And your name."

"You're welcome to my name." he spat. "But you should know it had never done anyone any good." He could practically taste his own bitterness.

She cupped his cheek and drew him in a slow kiss. He didn't know how or when she had discovered this strange gift but every time she kissed him, he felt more grounded. It saved him from wallowing too much in self-pity nowadays.

"Those times are over." she reminded him quietly. "And I'm already living with you. Everybody knows what I am to you. If you don't want to get married because you aren't ready or because you don't want to, it's alright, but if it's because of some misguided thought of protecting me… It's unnecessary."

Effie was right, of course. Those days, he was wearing his heart and his weaknesses on his sleeves. Everybody knew what Effie and the kids meant to him. A wedding wouldn't change that.

"You really want a fancy dress, do you?" he sighed. He didn't see the purpose of them getting married. They weren't young or naïve enough to think it would change anything anymore. They were already living together… There was no point. And yet, as selfish as he was, he hated to see Effie unhappy – she had been too unhappy after the war, it had physically hurt him to see the glassy look in her eyes and her lack of cheerfulness.

"A huge one." She nodded with a grin, a twinkle of mischief sparkling in her blue eyes. "With lace and ribbons and…"

"Yeah, a ridiculous one, I get it, sweetheart." He rolled his eyes and then blindly felt around for his glass of whiskey. He downed it in one go, wondering at his own sanity. "No big party. We keep it simple. And the Toasting will be private. The kids maybe but that's it."

She nodded with unchecked enthusiasm. Her eyes were shining with what he hoped were happy tears.

"We're getting married." she squealed in delight, throwing her arms around his neck, almost bouncing up and down in her glee. "Oh, I need to phone the children…" She hurried to the phone, started to dial and then put it back down before he could point out that they were probably already in bed at that hour. "No, no… We need to tell them face to face, of course." she muttered. "We need to call Annie, Johanna and Beetee too… It would be rude not to invite them… The invitations! Oh, I know just the shop! It's only two blocks away from here, we will go tomorrow and…"

He listened to her babbling about more and more things he knew nothing about and tried very much not to let the panic spread to his whole being.

"No big party." he reminded her.

"Yes, yes…" she agreed, already bent over a notepad and scribbling idea after idea.

"Effie." he insisted because he knew her: a small party would end up with a hundred people and fireworks in the meadow.

She looked up with a bright smile, dropped her pen and hugged him again, pressing kisses haphazardly to his mouth, cheeks, nose and neck.

"We're getting married." she whispered with amazement.

"If I had known it would make you so happy, I would have put a ring on your finger years ago." he snorted, running his hands up and down her back. "How happy are you?"

She chuckled and playfully bit his chin with a knowing look. "Very very happy. Do you want me to show you?"

"If you want." he shrugged, faking detachment.

He stopped faking detachment somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom and was very dedicated in celebrating their engagement. Perhaps, he mused some time afterwards, when Effie was sleeping in his arms, a wedding wouldn't be that bad. It was just a day and then there would be a wedding night after all… If Katniss had survived the experience, he could too.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, he sat up in bed, barely aware of his surroundings, his hand clawing around for a knife that was safely locked in the drawer of the bedside table. It took a full minutes before his breathing was back in check but the annoying ringing that had startled him awake in the first place didn't stop. He glanced at Effie but she was still asleep, clutching the sheet in her hand with a small frown on her face.

The doorbell rang again. He threw the covers away and climbed out of bed before whoever was ringing could wake her up – she hadn't been sleeping properly ever since they had arrived in that bloody city. Being in the Capitol did nothing for his nightmares but, at least, he had whiskey to dull them.

He almost tore the door open and glared at the man standing right there with his finger on the doorbell. The guy was old but obviously determined not to look so. His hair had been dyed a dark blue, he was wearing a very expensive suit and Haymitch could have sworn he had undergone plastic surgery several times. In short : a very Capitol man.

A very Capitol man who didn't look very impressed to find Haymitch wearing only boxers.

"It's late." Haymitch grunted.

"It's midnight." the guy replied flatly.

Rebellion or not, midnight was still early by Capitol standards, Haymitch mused. It didn't help his mood in any way. "What do you want?"

It was rude and Effie would probably have scolded him to the moon and back.

The man's mouth pinched in a disapproving line, it was very familiar and Haymitch knew at once he was in trouble.

He also kind of regretted not to have put pants on.

"I would like to see my daughter if that's not too much to ask." Mr. Trinket retorted coldly. "I do believe this is her apartment. I remember paying half of it."

"She's sleeping." he said. He didn't comment on the rest, it would only add fuel to the fire. He was familiar with that sort of men, he had been dealing with sponsors since he was seventeen.

"Before midnight?" The man's eyes widened in surprise. "It doesn't sound like Effie. Is she unwell?"

There was real worry on the Capitol man's face, at least.

"Unwell, no." Haymitch hissed. "Upset, maybe." Exhausted after their little celebration too but he didn't think it wise to mention that.

"I see." Mr. Trinket winced. "My wife has never been very talented at diplomacy. I assume Effie told you about…"

"She did." he spat.

"You must see our point of…" the man started only to be interrupted by a familiar blood curling scream.

Haymitch bolted without even thinking, running for the bedroom and gathering her in his arms before she was even fully awake. She clutched to him like she was drowning, desperately gasping for air and almost sobbing.

"It's over, sweetheart, you're safe." he whispered, kissing her hair and her shoulder in turn. He straightened the strap of her nightgown when he realized her father had followed him and was lurking on the bedroom threshold, obviously confused and disturbed by the whole thing. He didn't let go of her, though, that would only have made it worse. She needed to wake up properly first and realize there was no danger, no more cells and no more upcoming torture. "Come back. You're safe."

"Haymitch." she said at last and slumped against him, the tension gradually leaving her body.

"Yeah." He nuzzled her neck. "Right here, sweetheart."

"Are you alright, Effie darling?" her father asked, shaken. He took two steps inside but froze when Haymitch lifted a warning hand, unsure of how she would react to someone else's presence so soon after a nightmare. She was used to him and the kids but other people?

"Daddy?" she frowned, sitting up properly. Her eyes darted from the man to Haymitch and back. "What are you doing here?"

The man looked uncomfortable. "I was… uneasy with how we left things earlier."

"Oh…" Effie's smile was hesitant but real. "Would you care for some tea?" She climbed out of bed and wrapped her dressing gown around her. "You will have to excuse our state of undress, we are used to going to bed early. Haymitch, put on some pants and please do not answer the door again without them."

He opened his mouth but he didn't have time to reply, she was already steering her father away from the bedroom. By the time he succeeded in locating some sweat pants – and he didn't bother with a shirt – and arrived in the kitchen, she was already pouring hot water in three cups. He took a sit at the table without a second thought, listening to her easy chatter.

"Katniss made it for me." she explained, gesturing to the tea. "The herbs and spices are all from home."

"Home…" Mr. Trinket repeated. "You mean District Twelve."

Her cheerfulness died down a bit and she leaned against Haymitch's chair instead of taking a seat. Her hand clasped his shoulder and he grabbed it without thinking twice about it. She wasn't overly demonstrative in public, they had spent too much time hiding everything behind closed doors for that, but when she did touch him in front of people it generally meant she needed support.

"I mean home." There was a warning in her voice and the Capitol man recognized it for what it was and gave her a strained smile.

"You do not intend to move back here then?" the man asked without much hope. "Surely, the Capitol is a better place to live than… Twelve?"

"We're very happy in Twelve." Haymitch replied for her.

"I don't doubt you are." Mr. Trinket muttered. "Euphemia… Your mother was insensitive earlier and I do apologize for that but you should know we all miss you. We simply hoped if you moved back to the Capitol, life could go back to what it was before. We miss having you and your sister for Sunday brunch."

"Do you miss having me for Sunday brunch or are you ashamed to tell your Sunday brunch guests that your younger daughter lives in Twelve?" she asked bluntly. "Because you should know I am not ashamed of that."

Haymitch could feel her fingers shaking and he ran his thumb over her knuckles, bringing the cup of tea to his mouth with his free hand.

"I…" her father stammered awkwardly. "No. No, that was wrong of your mother to say. I have always been proud of you. Always." His eyes – and Haymitch wondered if they were naturally that shade of pale brown or if he was wearing contacts because it almost looked amber – darted to Haymitch and then back to his daughter. "Even if you choose to live the rest of your life in Twelve."

"You never said it before." she pointed out, then she cleared her throat. "But I am happy to hear it because Haymitch and I are engaged."

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Congratulations." Mr. Trinket forced a smile that was so obviously faked Haymitch almost burst out laughing. The man looked horrified but decided to hide it for Effie's sake. He loved his daughter, Haymitch didn't doubt that. "I expect you to bring your… fiancé for dinner tomorrow, then. Your sister will be there. We should introduce him to the whole family."

Haymitch's amusement faded quickly. "That won't be…"

"That would be lovely." Effie cut him off, digging her nails in his shoulder.

"Good. Good…" the man said on a tone that implied it was anything but good. "I should go, I think. I'm afraid I have been intruding."

Effie hurried to deny that statement but Haymitch simply rolled his eyes. Still her father insisted on leaving and she offered to walk him back to the door but he declined, stating that Haymitch could do it – no need to say, Haymitch was overjoyed with the prospect.

"If you want to bribe me into leaving her…" he warned as soon as Effie was out of earshot.

"Does it happen often?" Mr. Trinket cut him off with obvious concern. "Those nightmares?"

"Less often now." he offered truthfully even though it wasn't quite his place. Effie would never discuss her night terrors with anyone, not even the kids, and he figured her father shouldn't be worried over something that wasn't as dangerous as it used to be.

"Why… Where do they come from?" the man insisted.

"Torture tends to leave a mark." he sneered, lowering his voice enough that Effie wouldn't hear even if she was eavesdropping. It wasn't a secret. There had been public trials for each escort and Gamemaker… Her imprisonment during the rebellion and his and Plutarch's testimonies had been the key factor in getting her pardoned – as well as a behind the scene bargain but that wasn't public knowledge and he would rather keep it that way.

The man flinched. "You took care of her."

"Someone had to." Haymitch spat. It had bothered him, at first, the lack of involvement from her family. They had been notified as soon as the war was over, he had made sure of it and yet, her only visitors had been him and Plutarch. When he had left with Katniss, he had asked Plutarch to keep tabs on her and, from what he knew, she had mostly focused on Peeta and her own appointments with doctors but nobody had come out of their way to help her and certainly not her own family.

"We aren't used to pain, here, in the Capitol." Mr. Trinket said quietly. "We do not know how to deal with it. You do. You are good for her. She obviously loves you very much."

He shrugged, uncomfortable with that kind of assertion.

The man looked ill-at-ease too. He stopped at the front door and offered his hand. "I look forward to learning to know you."

Haymitch shook it if only because he knew Effie would have his head on a plate if she ever learned he didn't. He was surprised when her father didn't release it at once but, rather, squeezed it in what was probably supposed to be an intimidating fashion.

"Now, you might be a former victor Mr. Abernathy but I am a very influential man and I could make your life very difficult if I wanted to." Mr. Trinket hissed. "Don't hurt my little girl."

Idle threats, Haymitch decided, and quite ridiculous too but he decided to humor him. He simply nodded, closed the door after the man – the term father-in-law came to mind and he dismissed it as quickly – and went back to bed.

Effie hadn't in fact been eavesdropping – proof that there was a first time for everything because she usually did – and was already almost asleep.

"You were very long." she complained when he finally wrapped his arms around her, pressing his chest to her back.

"Your father is a funny man." he told her, pressing a kiss below her ear.

He refused to explain himself.

Certain things were better kept between a man and his wife's father.