Please, you need to do a follow up for 'a not-proposal and a meeting'! No, no... You must! You certainly have to! Especially the meeting part! :D

And

Could you write the family dinner with Haymitch and the Trinkets that follows up A Not-Proposal and a Meeting?

And

Hey, I love your works so much. Could you write something about Haymitch meeting Effie's family at dinner or afternoon tea? I imagine Effie's mother would be really pissed off because of their engagement and Mr Trinket would take Haymitch side cuz he loves his little daughter and knows she will be happy with him (sorry for that, I have no idea how long your prompt list is)

Meeting The In-Laws

"You never said you were loaded." Haymitch winced, taking a look at the house that looked more like a mansion than anything else.

"My parents are wealthy." Effie corrected him, leading him on the graveled path to the front door. The garden was small albeit a nice size for a house in the middle of the Capitol and carefully tended to. "Please, do not refer to them as loaded to their faces."

He rolled his eyes but remained silent. This was a bad idea from start to finish.

They paused in front of the door and he passed a finger between his neck and his tie, trying not to suffocate while she got ready to knock. She had forced the suit and the tie on him, she had knotted it in what she had declared to be a fashionable style and had paid no heed to his repeated statements that he couldn't breathe.

She had the best part of the bargain, here, he thought. The blue dress she was wearing was his personal favorite and he already knew he would tear it off her as soon as they were out of there. Her blond hair was tied in a fancy bun with wayward strands that called for him to tug on them just to see Effie's face flush in annoyance…

Her hand fell back to her side without making contact with the wood.

"This is a disaster in the making." she breathed out, turning to him with a panicked expression. "This is a mistake. We should… We should get away and call and say we can't make it."

"Isn't it a bit late for cancelling?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her unusual lack of fuss over manners.

"Oh, yes, it is, yes…" she nodded. "Very, very rude. No more than me slamming the door yesterday, though. This is going to be awful, Haymitch. Awful."

He would have loved nothing more than to head back to her apartment but he somehow sensed it was important to get the meeting with her parents over with. The day before, she had parted with her mother on bad terms because the woman wanted her to leave Twelve to come back to the Capitol and settle down as a proper Capitol lady should. Effie had obviously gone mad and had spat in her mother's face that she would simply change her name so the Trinket family wouldn't suffer from her so-called disgrace. He didn't quite understand how they had gone from there to them being engaged but Effie had been so distressed and so determined to get his name… When her father had showed up, she had told him about the engagement without batting an eyelash and the Capitol man had invited them to dinner, clearly set on mending bridges with his daughter.

Haymitch had gotten swept up in the mix.

"Come on, it won't be that bad." He nudged her in the side gently, hoping she wouldn't have a panic attack or a flashback as she tended to do when a stressful situation arose. Her family, he had come to learn, was stressful.

"They are going to belittle and criticize you." she whispered. "They will make fun of you. I don't want…"

"Sweetheart…" he cut her off gently. "I'm used to Capitol people making fun of me. I don't care." He brushed a hand against her cheek, his face turning serious. "But they better not make a jab at you."

"We should just leave." she insisted.

"We leave if you want." he shrugged. "But I don't see why you should back down in front of them. You're better than them, Effie."

They stared at each other for a minutes, then she took a deep breath and slipped her hand in his.

"It doesn't matter if they disapprove." she said out loud for her own sake rather than his, he figured. "The children were thrilled on the phone. Peeta will do the cake and Katniss will sing for us. Annie, Johanna and little Finn promised to come. I have no doubt Beetee and Plutarch will make the trip. We have our family, we don't need anyone else."

"No, we don't." he confirmed quietly.

"Alright." she braced herself and glanced at him one last time. "Don't mention Lyssa's husband at any point. He was a Gamemaker at some point and… Well. You know." He did. Coin's purge. He doubted the husband was still alive. "Don't drink too much, please, and don't rile them up on purpose and…"

"Breathe." he advised, amused despite himself.

She nodded once and he watched as she raised her hand again and used the knocker three times.

The door opened on a butler.

He wasn't expecting that.

"Miss Trinket." the man took a slight bow and moved aside to let her pass, relieving her of her purse and wrap. "Miss Trinket, may I be so bold as to apologize again for the little misunderstanding yesterday? I truly…"

The man seemed nervous but Effie waved his excuses off with a smile Haymitch knew to be fake.

"It's perfectly understandable. Please, don't trouble yourself over it." she offered. The butler nodded at her again gratefully and beckoned at them to follow him.

"What happened yesterday?" Haymitch whispered in her ear.

"He's new, he didn't know me." she replied in a low voice. "Since I didn't have any wig on, he thought I was a door-to-door saleswoman." Haymitch had trouble hiding his chuckles and she whacked him in the stomach playfully. "It's not funny." she hissed. "Behave."

Behaving, he knew as soon as the butler ushered them in the little drawing-room – or what he called the little drawing-room because it was as big as their living-room in Twelve – would be difficult. Effie's family was so carefully positioned in the room it looked like a painting. Her mother was sitting on the couch, her back so straight it didn't touch the leather; her father was standing next to the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back; and her sister was on the windowsill, her voluminous skirts spread around her. It was too perfect not to have been studied.

"Euphemia darling!" her mother bolted from the couch and embraced her daughter which puzzled Haymitch because by Effie's account, he had understood they were upset with each other. But her mother was determined, it seemed, she kissed the air next to Effie's cheeks in such a Capitol way that Haymitch almost thought they had gone back in time, then she clasped both of her daughter's hands in hers with a relieved expression. "Let's talk no more about what happened yesterday." The woman offered gracefully. "You will never guess what your silly father told me last night."

"Elindra." Mr Trinket snapped. He moved away from the fireplace, dropped a kiss on his daughter's head and extended a hand to Haymitch. "Nice to see you again."

The man didn't look as constipated as he did the day before but it was clear Haymitch still wasn't a favorite of his. He shook his hand nonetheless.

"Thank you for having me." he said in his best let's charm sponsors voice. Effie flashed him a pleased smile that almost made it worth it.

"Yes, yes, of course." Mrs Trinket handed him his hand too, palm toward the ground. He figured he was supposed to kiss it. He took great pleasure in missing the hint and shaking it enthusiastically.

The sister bit back a grin and offered her own hand in a normal fashion. "Lyssa."

"Do sit down, Euphemia." Effie's mother ushered her to a couch, barely glancing at him. It was probably for the best, each time she did she wrinkled her nose as if she had smelt something unpleasant. It couldn't be him, he had showered. Effie had made sure of it.

This dinner thing, he guessed, would be painfully endless.

Everyone took a seat and Haymitch find himself squashed between the armrest and Effie. There was a large amount of space on the other side of her but she sat close nevertheless, probably seeking comfort. Her hands were shaking in her lap. He grabbed one without thinking twice about it, running his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

It probably wasn't something one did in society because her mother glared at him with all her might. He didn't care, Effie's tension seemed to fade slowly.

"So, father told us the good news!" Lyssa chipped, clasping her hands in an over-the-top display of enthusiasm.

"Your father was obviously mistaken, Lyssa." Mrs Trinket scoffed. "You can see as plainly as me that your sister isn't engaged."

"Actually…" Effie cleared her throat, clutching his fingers. "I am. We are."

"And we are all very happy for you, Effie." Mr Trinket offered even though it obviously cost him. "Both of you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Euphemia." Mrs Trinket laughed. "I don't see a ring. No ring, no wedding."

"It's recent." Effie snapped. "Yesterday, in fact. We had no time to think about rings yet."

"Yesterday, how delightful!" Lyssa interjected before her mother could. "Did you plan it, Haymitch? Was it a surprise?"

"It was a surprise alright." he snorted. "Effie did the proposing."

"That's not quite…" Effie corrected but she was interrupted by her sister's wide eyes.

"You did?" Lyssa asked, clearly taken aback. "How… progressive of you."

"I…" Effie stammered.

"I mean it." Lyssa vowed, leaning forward to catch her sister's hand. "You are so unafraid to steer away from conventions… Like your lack of wig and fashionable clothes… How liberating it must be not to care about such things anymore. I could never do it."

It was nice enough but Haymitch felt the gibe underneath as, no doubt, did Effie. Her fake smile was strained.

"Effie never needed the wigs and clothes." Haymitch declared. "She's beautiful as she is."

Effie's smile was fond and she squeezed his hand once.

"Well said." Mr Trinket approved. "Now how about some amuse-bouche?"

Haymitch didn't even know what that meant but given the platters of food suddenly presented to them by various members of the staff, he supposed it was edible. He grabbed something at random and stuffed half of it in his mouth before freezing suddenly.

Effie must have sensed it because she glanced at him, a flicker of horror in her eyes. She knew him too well, she must have guessed he was thinking of spitting it in his napkin.

"Swallow." she whispered. It was probably a good thing her parents were busy discussing the various nature of the amuse-bouche – and there was nothing remotely amusing in them. She dug her nails in his hands mercilessly. "Please, Haymitch, swallow."

He did. With an audible gulp that warranted him more than a disapproving glance.

He accepted the glass of champagne with relief and let Effie eat the rest of that disgusting thing.

"That thing was slimy." he murmured discreetly while everyone was handed a flute. "You owe me."

"If we're keeping count of the number of times one of us swallowed something slimy for the other, I think you ought to eat the whole platter." she hissed back.

"Fair point." he shrugged, clinking his glass with hers.

"To your engagement, Euphemia." Mr Trinket toasted.

"No ring, no wedding." his wife sing-sang.

"There is going to be a wedding, Mother." Effie sighed, clearly aggravated now. "I was thinking late spring, early summer. Of course it doesn't leave much time to do the planning but I am fairly confident I can do it."

She could have told him that first but Haymitch didn't call her on it, already knowing he wouldn't have a word to say about the general organization. His only condition was that they kept it small scale – and since it was Effie, he would be happy if they managed to have less than a hundred guests.

"Late spring wedding aren't at all in fashion." Mrs Trinket objected. "Winter weddings are the rage lately. And most of the public buildings are booked three years in advance! You can't expect to…"

"We're having the wedding in Twelve." he butted in. It occurred to him, suddenly, that they hadn't talked about that. He had assumed that was what they were doing.

"Oh, no you can't." Mrs Trinket. "It's traditional to have the wedding in the bride's hometown."

"And Twelve is my home now." Effie said firmly.

It displeased her mother greatly. "Do not be ridiculous, Euphemia, you can't mean you are set on living the rest of your life in that dreadful place. Marry the drunk if you must but at least come back to the civilized part of the country."

"Elindra." Mr Trinket hissed at the same time Lyssa exclaimed an outraged "Mother!".

Effie dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, put down her flute of champagne and stood up. "Well, thank you all for that delightful evening. I'm afraid we can't stay any longer."

Haymitch was on his feet in a matter of seconds. She was adamant they left despite her father and sister's protests and before too long, they were back outside, on the graveled path, after her father had made her promise to send them an invitation all the same. He would bring her mother around, he vowed.

Effie didn't look convinced and Haymitch wasn't much either.

"You're alright?" he asked, once they were back in the street.

"Yes." she passed an arm under his and they walked quietly. "I wanted to look at wedding dresses tomorrow morning but… I think we should just catch a train home as early as we can. I will have it custom made in Twelve."

"You're the boss." he shrugged but he was secretly pleased. He couldn't wait to leave the city behind.

"I miss the children." she said suddenly with a warm smile. "Do you think they got into much mischief while we were away?"

"Nah…" he snorted. "Katniss probably forgot to feed the geese, she can't even remember to feed her damn cat but Peeta will have remembered."

He missed the kids too.

It was stupid because it had been less than five days but… he was used to having them around, to be able to keep an eye on them.

"I don't feel like I belong here anymore, you know." she whispered. "Not at all. It's sad but it's strangely alright at the same time." She smiled at him. "Perhaps I simply grew up."

"Maybe." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and held her close as they walked. "Maybe you have your own family now."

"Yes, that I do." she replied, burrowing against his side. "And we are going to be very happy."

As a matter of fact, they were.