Prompt : Hi! if you're still taking prompts could u write insecure!haymitch , i feel like we get a lot of insecure effie but not haymitch , whether its about his past or his drinking up to u but his insecurities come to light during a talk/argument/fight with effie , thank u!

Keep Low

"I don't understand why I am here!" she screamed back at him, throwing the bundle of grey clothes on the small bed. At least she was allotted a private compartment. If she had been assigned one to share…

Haymitch rubbed his face, exhausted. He was tired. Tired by the almost failed rescue mission, tired by the hovercraft flight, tired by the images of the bombs dropping on Twelve that had greeted him when they had finally reached Thirteen, tired of Plutarch, tired of Coin and tired of Effie's stupidity.

"Because I like you better alive than dead!" he snapped.

At last, that brought her ranting to a stop. She folded her arms over her chest, a distressed expression on her face, her lips wobbled. She looked so lost in her pink dress…

"Look, sweetheart, I don't have much time." he hissed through clenched teeth. "They're dying to lock me up so I can die from lack of alcohol…"

He was barely joking and it fell flat. She looked alarmed. She reached for his arm but dropped her hand at the last possible second.

"Under medical watch, yes?" she breathed out. "You've been dependent for so long… It could be dangerous. They won't… They won't endanger you, will they?"

He swallowed back his instinctive sarcasms. No one had been very chatty about the details of his upcoming forced withdrawal but he very much doubted it would be nice.

"I'm sure they know what they're doing." he placated her, seeing no reason to worry her further. "Now… I need you to take all that shit off your face and put on their uniform. No wig either."

She immediately shook her head. "No."

"Effie." He held his breath with irritation.

"I didn't ask to come here." she exhaled in a low voice. "I… I don't know what you expect me to do. I want to go back home. I want…"

"You don't have a home anymore." he cut her off. "If I had left you behind, they would have arrested you and you would be being tortured by now."

She shook her head. "I was kidnapped. Against my will."

"Like you would have come with me if I had asked." he scoffed.

That brought her to a stop. She stared at him, half-terrified and half-outraged. Defiant. Defiant was a good look on her, he thought.

"Why didn't you?" she asked, licking her lips nervously. "If I'm so important to you, why didn't you?"

"Never said you were important to me, Princess." He rolled his eyes. "I said…"

"You said you brought me here to save me, yes, I understood." she interrupted him. "Why didn't you ask me to follow you freely? Why let me worry for days and then have Plutarch showing up at my apartment with Peacekeepers saying they were there to arrest me? Why let them drug me? You could have asked, Haymitch. You could have…"

"You wouldn't have said yes." he snorted. "Why would you?"

Why would she?

She would never had left her glamorous life behind for a drunkard like him. He was good for a bit of fun and nothing more, that was their agreement. He had never ever thought it could be anything else for her than the thrill of a forbidden tousle with a victor.

He was old and alcoholic, he didn't bother with showers until it was a matter of urgency or she pushed him under the spray, he was mean and bitter…

"Don't you know?" she huffed.

He didn't understand what she meant so he lowered his eyes, stared at her copper heels instead. "I need you to take care of Katniss. I told them you would. Do it. Do whatever Plutarch tells you to while I'm… drying out. He will keep you safe, he gave me his word. Make yourself useful, they don't like wasting resources here… And, please, keep a low profile, sweetheart. Don't start your own little rebellion over fashion. You…"

The copper heels moved closer as he talked but he didn't fall silent until she clasped his hands in hers.

"You do know, Haymitch, don't you?" she insisted.

He wondered if she had listened to any of what he had just said. Her voice was less frightened, less angry and more doubtful now.

"If anyone asks anything…" he continued. "Tell them you're a political refugee and you don't know anything. If anyone tries anything, go to Plutarch. This is important, Princess, you're on my list. You have immunity."

She squeezed his fingers. "Haymitch…"

He looked up this time. Her eyes were bright either because of the fear or the anger. She was staring at him with disbelief.

"Haymitch, you do know, yes?" she whispered.

"Know what?" he shrugged. "I don't have time for…"

"What I feel for you." she said. "You know what I feel for you."

"Yeah." he chuckled. She had told him enough time. "Disgust, loathing, lust… Right back at you, sweetheart."

She placed a hand on his cheek and searched his eyes. He almost wanted to remind her she had been ready to strangle him less than ten minutes ago.

"I would have come with you." she offered quietly after a few seconds. "If you had asked."

He frowned, surprised by that confession. He wasn't sure he believed her but he didn't see what interest she would have in lying : he had already given her his protection, that was all he could do for her. "Why?"

She laughed but it wasn't a nice laugh. It was choked up and bitter. "If you could know how much I hate you sometimes…"

That was familiar ground and he relaxed a little, forcing a smirk on his lips. "I hate you too, sweetheart. Now…"

"When I say I hate you, what I mean is I love you." she cut him off, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "How can you not know that, Haymitch?"

"I…" he faltered.

She didn't leave him time to figure out how he felt on the matter. She pressed her lips against his and as often with them, the kiss grew from innocent to messy in a matter of seconds. He held her tight, finding a relief he couldn't quite explain at her contact. It was easy to lose himself in the moment, to forget for a little while about Peeta and Twelve and the rest of it. That was what he liked about Effie, she helped him forget.

There was a customary knock and then the door slid open.

"Oh, sorry." Coin's second in command – Boggs, if his memory was right – looked amused but he quickly cleared his throat. "We have located Twelve's survivors. The President wants to see you in Command."

"I'm coming." he grumbled.

Boggs nodded and then walked out without another word, leaving him to turn back to Effie. Her chin was jutting proudly in the air but it was plain to see she was afraid.

"You're going to be just fine." he told her. "Just do what I said."

"Keep low." she nodded.

"Keep low." he confirmed.