Prompt: if you're still taking Hayffie prompts could you do one where haymitch actually hurts Effie? Like he hits her or something? Maybe you could add in the other victors like perhaps they're there or finnick and chaff hear about it and talk to haymitch? Thanks, your fics are great

Accidents Happen

"Sorry, I'm late." Finnick mumbled when he entered the shooting studio. He froze when his eyes fell on her but instead of letting that faze her, Effie forced a smile on her lips.

"Not at all." she lied because Finnick was fifteen minutes late but in the state he was in, he had excuses. "Haymitch and I were just finishing reviewing today's propo. Here's your script."

The sheet of paper she handed Four's victor went ignored as he stepped forward and framed her face with his hands, tilting her head this way and that to see it better under the bright neon lights.

"What happened?" he growled.

It was lucky there were no technicians in the studio that morning. Haymitch's head remained bowed as it had been since the previous night.

"Nothing." Effie sighed.

"Nothing my ass." Finnick spat, gently brushing his fingers against the dark bruise on her cheek. "Who did this?"

"Language, Finnick, really…" She clucked her tongue and pried her chin away from his hands. "Everything's fine."

"Someone hit you, nothing's fine." Four's Victor argued, looking at Haymitch over her shoulder. "She's hurt and you're staying here and doing nothing?"

Haymitch didn't move an inch.

The heavy silence was probably what clued Finnick in.

"Oh, you're kidding me!" he said, taking a threatening step toward Haymitch.

Effie swiftly placed herself between them, a hand firmly placed on Finnick's chest. Rage, betrayal and pain were swirling in his sea-green eyes. This wasn't about Effie at all, not entirely at last, Finnick had been eager for a fight ever since he had put a foot in Thirteen. Being powerless to help Annie wasn't sitting well with him.

"It was an accident." Effie whispered. "He feels bad enough as it is, I don't need you to make it worse. I am fine. Everything is fine."

"Accident." Finnick repeated with disgust.

"An accident." she insisted, not liking his insinuation one bit. "It was my fault."

"Not it wasn't." Haymitch grumbled, finally breaking his vow of silence.

"Yes, it was." she stated. "I should have known better than to touch you."

Finnick's eyes were darting back and forth, from her to Haymitch.

"Nightmare?" he asked. She felt the tension leaving his body with the realization that Haymitch hadn't purposefully hurt her.

She nodded, forced the paper in the victor's hand and told him to go in the next room so they could start recording.

It truly was her fault. She was a light sleeper and she usually got out of bed when his nightmares were getting too violent but this time, she had reached out to him instead of stepping away. She hadn't been thinking, she had been exhausted, numb from sleep, and she had reached for his shoulder. It was lucky the knife had been taken away because as much as the punching hurt, it hadn't killed her.

Her pained yell and her falling off the bed had woken him up. No matter how often she told him it wasn't his fault, he had kept sulking and blaming himself ever since.

Was she happy to walk around with a massive bruise on her cheek and no make-up to hide it? No.

Did she blame him for something that was out of his control? Not at all.

They watched Finnick rehearsing the speech for a while – it was a piece about Cashmere today – until the silence grew too uncomfortable for Effie to bear. She pushed the button that would prevent Finnick from hearing them and turned to Haymitch with a frown.

"Are you done?" she asked.

"Done doing what?" he muttered, pretending to flip the pages of a file he hadn't been reading. It was the plans for the piece concerning Brutus and that had been shot two days earlier.

"Simmering in your guilt." she sighed. "I'm fine, Haymitch. I swear."

He didn't answer and she was fed up with his attitude, so she stood up and forced his chair away from the console. She didn't even think twice about it before sitting in his lap – she hoped Finnick wouldn't choose that moment to look up through the window separating them – his hand shot to her thigh to steady her but he looked uncomfortable. He wouldn't look at her in the eyes.

She considered the fact that he didn't push her away a small victory in itself.

"It was my fault." she said again, for the hundredth time that day. "It's alright."

"I hurt you." he murmured, still avoiding her eyes. "It's not alright."

"Did you mean to hurt me?" she hummed, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Did you mean to punch me? Did you enjoy it?"

Anger and hurt flashed on his face. "Of course not!"

"Then, it doesn't matter." she shrugged. "It was an accident, nothing more. You were asleep. You didn't even know it was me."

He shook his head, finally looking up at her. "It doesn't make it okay, sweetheart. I hurt you." Clearly, he was struggling because he dropped his eyes again. "I think we should… stop. For a while."

"No." she declared.

He frowned, grey eyes meeting hers in surprise.

"What do you mean no?" he snorted. "If I say we stop, then we stop. You can't boss me around to…"

"I mean no." she retorted. "I won't let you walk out on me because you're scared to hurt me. It was just a stupid accident. You never hurt me before."

"I never fell asleep in your bed before." he snapped. "And that's happening more and more often lately. If you're not clever enough to push me out…"

"I love falling asleep with you." she cut him off. "And I won't apologize for that." She leaned in for a kiss but he drew his head back. Stubborn old mule, she couldn't help but think. "Would it make you feel better if I punched you?"

"Please." he scoffed. "You would break your hand and I would feel even worse."

The ghost of a smirk was playing on his lips.

She pecked it.

This time he let her.

She pecked it again and again until he lost his sour expression. His hand left her thigh for her cheek, it brushed against the bruise slowly; he was studying it with sadness.

"You didn't mean to do it and you feel awful about hurting me. You didn't strike in anger, you didn't lose control, it was the nightmare, not you. That's what makes it alright." she offered. "I'm not angry with you."

"You should be." he shrugged. "I am."

She pursed her lips in an annoyed line. "Then I forgive you."

He relaxed slightly but not completely. Still, he didn't resist when she stole a kiss – a real one this time.

"Finnick is staring." he mumbled against her lips.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Four's victor giving her a thumb up with one of his trademark grins.

"Well, he appears to like the show." she declared, sliding off his lap to sit properly at the console.

It was time to get the show on the road.