Prompt : Can you write a fanfic about the geese-naming then? XD It would be fun :D

To be honest, that resulted from a tumblr convo I have almost no recollection of so I made it up =)

Of geese and ganders

The shriek tore him away from his slumber and, for a second, Haymitch was unable to say if it had been real or a creation of his twisted mind. He jumped in a sitting position on his bed, his knife gripped tight in his hand, barely noticing the light spilling from the window. It was late, noon perhaps, but he didn't have time to ponder the thought further because there was another – very real – terrified scream and then the heavy stomping of a mad dash up the stairs.

He had barely reached the door, adjusting his grip on his knife to stab when Effie barged into view. She let out another yell when she saw him there, arm raised above his head to strike. It was a good thing for her he still had some reflexes left because instead of stabbing her, he tugged her inside his bedroom and closed the door.

He eyed her over carefully, looking for signs that she was having a panic attack or a flashback but she seemed fine except for the terrified light in her eyes and her heavy breathing. She had been running, that much was clear.

"What's going on?" he asked, not bothering to put the knife away. The last remnants of alcohol from the previous day were slowly replaced by the steady buzz of adrenaline, as the impending sense of danger only grew.

"I… I came over to bring you bread and make sure you weren't dead – and really, Haymitch, how many times do I need to tell you to air the house? It smells worse than…" The words were tumbling out of her mouth like they always did and he could already feel the pounding headache developing behind his eyes. When she had moved in the next house from his, claiming she wanted to stay in Twelve to check up on her victors, he hadn't known it would be such a hassle. He had thought he would be able to avoid her – how naïve he had been; she was always in his house, trying to 'help' and generally making his life a nightmare.

"Now would be good, Effie." he snapped. If someone was after her, after them, he needed to know.

"Aspicus tried to kill me!" she exclaimed, folding her arms as if the thought was a particularly irritating one and vexed her greatly. He had no idea who Aspicus was.

"Former boyfriend?" he tried, opening the bedroom door slightly to check for any sign of an intruder in the house. If the guy was inside, it was too bad for him because Haymitch would have no problem using the knife. His family was out of bounds and Effie Trinket was very much part of his family.

Yet he could hear nothing but the honking of geese. No creaking floorboard, no footsteps, nothing.

"I beg your pardon?" she frowned and hurried over to peek above his shoulder, pressing her chest to his back in a way that wasn't helpful at all. "Do be careful! He's in a mood. That would never have happened if you had properly closed the door last night, you know. If only you listened to me now and then…"

"If I had properly closed the door last night, you would never had made it inside and where would that leave you?" he grumbled, opening the door wider.

"You do realize I have a key, don't you?" She lifted her eyebrows. "Peeta gave it to me."

"Of course, he did." he muttered. He would kill the boy – after he killed the intruder who had frightened Effie so – for his poor attempts at matchmaking. If he thought he was subtle, Peeta needed to think again. He turned his head to look at her which was a big mistake because it brought his lips very close to hers. "Was he armed?"

"Peeta? Why in Panem would he be?" she asked, obviously flabbergasted by the thought.

"The guy." he hissed with irritation. "The one who might be hiding somewhere in the house, waiting to kill us both, or have you forgotten already? 'Must be hard having such a little brain, sweetheart…"

She huffed, wrinkling her nose either at his lack of manners or at his morning hangover breath – that was anyone's guess. "I said Aspicus was trying to kill me. Are you still drunk from yesterday?"

He was starting to understand there had never been any intruder.

He let go of the door, threw the knife on the bedside table and grabbed a bottle from the dresser. It was half empty and the content seemed sticky.

"Just so I know why I'm getting mad, who's Aspicus?" he sniffed the wine, shrugged and brought the bottle to his mouth. She snatched it away before the liquid could even brush his lips.

"Aspicus." she repeated and when he failed to react in any way saved for glaring at her, she rolled her eyes. "I think you should go downstairs and see for yourself."

Given that the main stash of his booze was in the kitchen and that he was in need of a drink after that rough awakening, he turned his back on her and walked out. She cleared her throat, halting his progress.

"You might want to put pants on." she said.

He looked down at himself. He was only wearing boxers – and how he even got to that state of undress was beyond him but since he had woken up on his bed, it was plausible he had made an attempt at actually going to bed the previous night – that could, admittedly, have been cleaner. He refused to be embarrassed.

"Why? Am I making you uncomfortable, sweetheart?" he smirked.

Far from taking the bait, she rolled her eyes, snatched some sweatpants from a chair and tossed them in his direction before exiting the room. "I just thought you would like to keep everything intact but, by all means, go ahead. Just don't expect me to patch you up afterwards."

Curious now, he passed the sweatpants on and hurried after her. She hadn't gone far, she was leaning against the wall, in front of the stairs, with her arms folded over her chest and a reproachful look in her eyes. It didn't take him long to grasp what the problem was.

"Aspicus." she said flatly, nodding to the gander very busy standing guard at the bottom of the stairs. He could see the rest of the flock making itself at home in his house.

He must have forgotten to lock the pen as well as the backdoor – it would have been a lie to say it never happened before.

Regardless, there was another matter of greater urgency.

"What are you on about?" he retorted. "You shouldn't be surprised he tried to kill you if you called him that. Right, Whiskey?"

The gander looked equally unimpressed by both names.

"His name isn't Whiskey, it's Aspicus." Effie argued. "And that's hardly the point. I almost got mangled because I stepped in your kitchen."

"Good job, Whiskey." he couldn't help but tease. It warranted him an unfriendly shove that made him snort. "Why, Trinket… So unladylike…"

If glares could kill, he would already be dead. "Would you please remove Aspicus from the way so I can leave? I do have other things planned this morning."

"His name's Whiskey." he insisted.

"No, it's not." She shook her head.

"It's my bloody pet, I think I know better than you." He pointed out at the brown gander. "Whiskey." Then he pointed at the fluffy white goose that was wandering their way. "Vodka." And the three they could barely glimpse very busy honking at each other. "Martini, Scotch and Mahogany. I named that one for you, see how kind I am? I should have named her Pain-in-the-ass."

Effie didn't look pleased nor impressed. She pointed at each of the animal he had just showed her and corrected their names as if it was a fact carved in stone. "Aspicus. Lenore. Feoli. Trudy. And I have been calling her Polly but I actually like Mahogany."

"You named my geese." He was astounded. He truly needed a drink now.

"Well, of course, I named your geese." She heaved a long suffering sigh. "I knew you would come up with ridiculous names so I took preventive steps. Now kindly remove them from the way, I can't stay stranded here with you all day."

"They will go away eventually." he snorted. "And I can think of things to do to pass time…"

He eyed her up and down, taking in the ridiculous short colorful dress she still insisted on wearing – or rather, the legs and cleavage it showed. His gaze glazed over the scars he could guess on her shoulder, focusing on the creamy white skin on display.

Truth was, there was a reason Peeta was so determined on playing matchmaker. He and Effie had been dancing on the thin line between hate and lust for a very long time and recently they were very much leaning toward the lust side of it. The flirting, the tension… Everything was starting to get out of control. He enjoyed the game though, that one was a game he was willing to play.

"If you are thinking about thoroughly cleaning upstairs then I applaud the idea wholeheartedly." An amused smile was tugging at the corner of her lips. "But I am not helping you clean anything before you cook me a meal. I'm starving."

Another thing he hadn't expected when she had moved in Twelve? Effie Trinket depending on him to cook. She was hopeless with a pan, used to live on take-outs and restaurants. He wasn't much better but, at least, he didn't start a fire every time he tried to fry something. She usually shopped for groceries and he did the cooking when he wasn't too drunk to stand. On those occasion either she fended for herself or she went to the kids.

"I should make you pay for the cooking." he teased. "I'm sure we could agree on something…"

"I already pay for the cooking, Haymitch." she reminded him. "I make sure your house isn't a complete pigsty and I also make sure you don't pass out in your own vomit. Given what I do for you compared to what you do for me, you have the best end of the bargain, as far as I'm concerned."

"Hey! Didn't I fix your window last week?" he protested, annoyed at her hints that he did nothing for her. She had nagged and nagged until he had taken a look.

"Yes, and it was very kind of you, dear." She rolled her eyes. "Now, will you be even kinder and get rid of that pet of yours?"

He would bite his tongue rather than tell her but he was actually glad for the sweatpants she had forced him to pass on, all the more so when the ganger reared back and flipped its wings at him angrily. Haymitch had become something of an expert at handling the birds though and hoarding them out was more tiresome than difficult. The mess they left behind, however, would take hours to clean. He slammed the backdoor shut behind Vodka – or whatever ridiculous name Effie had saddle her with – and turned around to find his former escort behind him again.

"The monsters are gone, Princess." he taunted.

"My hero." she mocked, raising on tip toe to peck his cheek. A gentleman would have remained immobile but Haymitch wasn't a gentleman and he turned his head at the last moment, stealing a kiss. She was grinning when he drew back and she licked her lips, watching him with amusement. "Food?" she reminded him.

With a sigh, he grabbed a pan and the box of eggs.

"Sometimes, I feel like we're married without the perks." he grumbled, cracking the first egg into the pan.

"If the food is exceptionally good, you might get a few perks." she whispered in his ear.

He was extra-careful not to burn the eggs.