Prompt: during mockingjay. Haymitch and effie are going through some papers. After a while, haymitch stares at her, takes her bandana off, and kisses her

Tugging On Pigtails

Haymitch didn't know leading a war would be so unrewarding.

No alcohol, late hours, Katniss perpetually sulking at him…

"How can those people function without coffee?" Plutarch muttered for what felt like the thousandth time to Haymitch.

Effie barely lifted her head from the speech she was reviewing. Haymitch pushed the file he was studying aside to rub his eyes.

It was late, they were all exhausted, but no one suggested they called it a night. They only went to bed when they could. Everything was moving quickly now that Two had joined them. It wouldn't be long before…

Effie's small groan of discomfort startled him and he realized, without shame, that he had been drifting off. She was leaning on her elbow, her hand rubbing at her shoulder.

Sore, probably.

She had been sitting there, bent over those files, all day.

He blamed his exhaustion for what he did next because it certainly wasn't a conscious or well thought-through decision to go standing behind her and replace her hand with his. She gave in to the impromptu massage a lot more easily than he thought she would. She relaxed under his hands with a content sight as he kneaded her tensed muscles.

Plutarch looked up with a knowing smile and looked down again.

Haymitch was too tired to care about what the Gamemaker was thinking or about the rumors he knew were flying all around Thirteen.

A wayward strand of hair was curling on her nape. It was in-between dark blond and reddish, he couldn't quite decide. He would need to see more to make a conclusion. He tugged at the gigantic knotted scarf on her head but she batted his hand away with renewed energy. He tried again and she whacked his fingers.

"Stop that." She clucked her tongue in annoyance.

Plutarch looked up again, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Aren't you a bit hold to tug on girls' pigtails?"

"There're no pigtails." Haymitch grumbled. "She could be bald for all we know."

Except she wasn't, he coiled the wayward strand at her nape around his finger.

"Why do you insist on being offensive right after doing something nice?" she sighed. "You are terribly off-putting, Haymitch."

"It keeps you on your toes. It's good for control freaks like you." he snorted, placing his hands back on her shoulders.

She glared at him but soon went back to reviewing the speech, he kept on massaging her shoulders because he was tired of studying boring files. It was amusing to see her shivering every time his thumb ran up and down her nape.

When Plutarch disappeared in a quest for tea – or, at the very least, hot water – leaving them alone in Command, Haymitch took his chance.

The scarf had been on her head all day, it was slightly loose. It didn't resist at all when he tugged on it, quick and swift.

Her exasperated sigh didn't even register. He was too fascinated by the delicate strands curling all around her head.

"Are you happy now?" she hissed, not even bothering to turn around.

She blindly reached behind her and snatched the scarf from his hand. All the better, it left him free to comb his fingers through her hair, completely riveted by the sight.

"It's copper." he commented, almost in awe.

"Of course not." she snapped. "It's strawberry blond."

"There's nothing blond about your hair, sweetheart." he replied, tugging on a curl only to watch it bounce back in place.

"Ignorant ruffian." she muttered, gathering her hair in one hand with the clear intention to put the scarf back in place.

He could only watch as the beautiful curls were hidden from view once again. He sat back down, disappointed without really knowing why and stared at her. She ignored him for a few minutes and then shot him a dark look.

"What now?" she asked.

Haymitch must have been really tired because he didn't even contemplate saying something other than the truth. "You're gorgeous."

She looked taken aback for a second but she recovered very quickly, hiding behind one of her insufferably arrogant grin.

"Why, it took you long enough to notice." she huffed.

A smirk played on his lips. He hooked a foot around the leg of her chair and pulled until it rolled toward him.

"Haymitch!" she shrieked, almost losing her balance.

"I'm serious." he insisted.

"You're never serious." she argued. She tried to make him release her chair by whacking his leg but he didn't move one inch. "Haymitch, I still have two speeches left to review and I would like to go to bed at some point."

"Bed sounds good." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

She didn't look impressed. "I don't know what got into you tonight but let me tell you…"

Pressing his mouth on hers was the best idea he ever had, he decided. Not only did it have the added bonus to finally shut her up, it was also… nice.

She didn't respond to the kiss at once, obviously shocked. After a few seconds of a one-sided kiss, he started retreating, thinking she was going to chop his head off for that. However, just as he was drawing back, she leaned in, chasing after his mouth. One of her hands coiled around his neck, the other clenched at his shirt to pull him closer… The angle wasn't exactly good but they made it work. It was a forceful kiss. Somehow, he hadn't expected proper Effie Trinket to be that aggressive with her lips, tongue and teeth. He relished in it, that unexpected side of her…

A kiss turned into two and three. They were out of breath but Haymitch couldn't for the life of him stop kissing her. She was the best thing he had tasted since his last glass of whiskey.

Plutarch wasn't a discreet man which worked to their advantage because Haymitch was very sure he didn't want to be caught red-handed. Enough people gossiped about them already.

He pushed her chair away just as the Gamemaker came back in the room with his precious steaming cup of tea in his hands. He wondered briefly who the man had to beg to get that.

If he noticed anything, Plutarch didn't let on. He sat back on his chair and started perusing his file again.

Haymitch cleared his throat and went back to work, sneaking glances at Effie when he could.

She didn't look at him once but there was a pleased smile on her mouth and she kept licking her lips.

On purpose.

He was sure of it.

She was a tease that way.