Prompt: I'm going to prompt this now. Haymitch and Effie being totally distracted with each other during the bombing. :D

Ok, so I pushed that prompt front of the line because I couldn't stop thinking about it ever since I talked about it on tumblr. I also decided that, in movie!verse, since Haymitch is not in Command with Plutarch and Coin (like I am sure he is in the book because remember when he was a real important part of the rebellion and didn't just pop in at random times?) and he isn't in the bunker with Katniss and Finnick either, there must be several bunkers like the one we see in the movie. After all, it needs to contain ALL District 13's population so we can imagine there are several large bunkers and that Effie (who also mysteriously disappeared at that point in the movie) and Haymitch were in a different one than Katniss (which makes no sense whatsoever but I'm not the movie's director so bear with me, I'm trying to find logical explanations).

Warning because it is probably verging on crack-y, and again not beta-ed so I proofread it myself which means it might be full of horrors.

And also steam/smut (well you know the drill, I can't write proper smut to save my life).

Last Night On Earth

"Haymitch!" Effie screamed at the top of her lungs when she spotted him in the crowd. Her voice barely carried further than the group of people in front of her. All around, people were shouting, crying, yelling, pleading, praying… The cacophony was too much, it only enhanced the terror that had gripped her guts when the evacuation order had boomed out from the speakers dispatched around the District. They had been herded down to the bunker, escorted by soldiers, in a crowd so compact it had felt to Effie she didn't exist anymore, she was part of that crowd, she and those people formed a new entity united by fear.

The actual bunker wasn't much better than the endless metal staircase had been. People were just as panicked, just as terrified, and there was nothing particular to the walls and the ceiling, nothing that told them they would be safer there than anywhere else in the District.

She had to fight her way through the crowd to reach Haymitch, she had to clutch his arm not to get carried away by the flow of people who wandered around, lost despite the regular calls to go to their designated bunk beds and await further instructions.

"Haymitch." she called again, lower.

He finally turned his head and his shoulders sagged in relief when he saw her. She wasn't prepared to be drawn into his arms but she accepted the hug readily enough, she buried her face in his neck and closed her eyes. He cradled the back of her head in his hand, held her tight. For a second, she felt anchored.

"Katniss?" she asked next to his ear so he would hear her in the surrounding chaos.

"In the other bunker with Finnick." he answered. "Plutarch and Beetee are in Emergency Command with Coin. They didn't want me."

He sounded displeased by that, dejected maybe. She wasn't. If Katniss and Finnick weren't around, she had no one to put a show for and that meant she didn't need to pretend she wasn't scared out of her wits.

"Stay with me." she begged without any shame.

He loosened his embrace to look at her – and, she suspected, so she would see him roll his eyes.

"Why do you think I came here?" he grumbled. "I should be over there with the girl." She was strangely touched he even thought of her at all and annoyed he was yet again discarding his responsibilities so easily. He let go of her before she could come up with something to say. "Let's go find your bunk bed. It's going to get bad really soon."

That didn't sound reassuring at all and she was absolutely unashamed when she grabbed his hand and clutched it between hers like a life line. He glanced at their entwined fingers but didn't comment or protest.

Did Coin have anything to do with the assignation of designated bunk beds or was it simply Effie's lack of luck of late? Her bed was at the far-end of the room, tucked in the corner between two walls. It didn't escaped her notice that most people were cluttered in the middle of the room, either because they had been assigned beds there or because they thought it was safer. Their corner was quiet unpopular and, as such, almost deserted.

"This does not seem a good idea." she said, eyeing the walls with mistrust. "We should ask to be relocated."

"It's a bunker not a five stars hotel." Haymitch scoffed. "Besides, if it doesn't hold, it won't matter where we are. Stay here, I'm going to get the supplies."

She did as she was told and sat down on the lower bed, trying not to think about how insanitary it would be to lie down on the bare mattress, while Haymitch went to stand in line. It took almost fifteen minutes for him to come back with a basic package. There were sheets in it and blankets along with a few first-necessity items that made her wonder how long exactly they were expected to remain in this underground tomb. The chaos had died down by then but the noise was still overwhelming, too many people talking at the same time, the sound kept reverberating against the walls, it made her feel dizzy, her head was aching. She made the bed because it was something to do. She was surprised when Haymitch helped – or tried to anyway – it felt strangely domestic, completely out of place.

The first bomb hit when she was berating him for not tucking the blankets in properly.

Everything shook.

The floor, the walls, the ceiling… The whole room shook so much she stumbled and would have fallen if she hadn't clutched the metallic pole of the bunk beds to steady herself. She was too scared to even scream like most other people did. The lights flickered but remained on. Her eyes met Haymitch's.

"Is it over?" she whispered when everything was still once again.

He read her lips more than he heard her, she figured.

It was far from being over. He beckoned her to sit on the bed with him and wrapped his arms around her as the second bomb hit. This one was even worse. She closed her eyes, bundled his shirt in her fists and burrowed into him as much as she could as if she was seeking a human shield.

And the impacts came and came…

It was like a particularly strong lightning storm or a strange case of distorted rainfall. Sometimes minutes passed between two hits, sometimes it took an hour of tensed waiting. At some point, exhaustion won over and they lied down under the blankets, snuggled close together. By the middle of the night, bombs were still dropping on Thirteen, the lights had given out and dust was falling from the ceiling with each new impact. Someone, somewhere in the bunker, screamed that a chunk of concrete had detached. People had deserted their corner of the bunker to huddle in the middle of the room, Effie would have followed but Haymitch insisted it wouldn't make a difference.

"Are we going to die?" Effie asked.

Or perhaps they were dead already. It certainly looked like hell and she was certain she was headed nowhere else but there. The darkness was crushing. They had been given flashlights in their kit and some people were waving them around, mostly to keep the children from panicking too much. There were absolutely no lights in Haymitch and Effie's corner of the bunker, she was sure she would never be able to stand being in the dark again. She longed for the warmth of the sunlight on her skin, for the wind and fresh air… She tried to picture herself outside but it was too difficult to ignore the unpleasant smell of too many bodies crammed together in a single closed room.

"No." Haymitch answered, a second too late.

His arms tightened around her. Another bomb hit and the tremors felt worse this time, with each breath she took, she swallowed more dust. People were coughing all around. How many more impacts could the bunker take before it cave in?

"You came to me." she argued. "You could have stayed with Katniss and Finnick but you came to me. Do you think we are going to die?"

Katniss would have been with her family and Finnick… Well Finnick was locked in his own head more often than not lately, lost in his happier memories with Annie, and she supposed he would have made for poor company in a time like this. If he had truly not been worried, Haymitch would have stayed with them to provide sarcasms and unhelpful comments. However, if he had been scared enough that there were chances they were going to die… Well, he wouldn't let her die alone in an anonymous bunker. He wouldn't want to die alone either, she mused. Nobody would.

"I don't know." he finally confessed and then quickly pressed his lips against her forehead. The kiss was rough, his beard scratched her skin in an unpleasant fashion. "No use thinking about it."

"If we survive this, you are shaving." she decided.

"You want me to slit my own throat?" he snapped. "'Cause I can't hold a razor, sweetheart."

"I will do it for you then." she declared.

Another bomb.

She would never get used to it, she vowed. There was never any warning, there was never any sign that it was about to happen. One second you were talking, the next everything was shaking and all you could hear was the deafening sound of something huge crashing over your head and the answering yells of terror from hundreds of voices.

"I don't want to die like this." she whispered during the next lull.

"We're not going to die." he countered, but it sounded unconvinced, mechanical.

Perhaps they wouldn't, perhaps… But she didn't want to spent her last minutes waiting for death to reap her. She didn't want to be tensed and terrified. She didn't want to see it coming.

"Make love to me." she requested.

"What?"

She could hear the frown in his voice, the surprise and the almost mocking tone. Maybe he thought she was joking. She truly wasn't.

"Make love to me." she repeated. There had been a lot of sex along the years – hate sex, angry sex, rough sex, desperate sex… – but they had never made love. "If I have to die… This is how I want to go."

"You want to die fucking in a crowded room?" he snorted. "I'm not even surprised."

"It's dark and we are quite alone here, if we're quiet, nobody will know." she murmured, dropping soft kisses on his neck. Her lips trailed to the spot under his ear and she nibbled on it while her hand traveled down his chest and cupped him through his pants. It was obvious the idea appealed to him, he let out a defeated grunt.

"Quiet… Can you do quiet?" he mocked. He made a quick job of unbuttoning her shirt to access her breasts. She gasped when he made contact. "See? You're no good at quiet."

"I will be." she promised, struggling to unbuckle his belt. She hoped no one would wander back their way any time soon but she was past caring, too certain she was going to die. Besides, she was sure they weren't the only ones in that room doing it, impending death tended to make people fall back on their most animalistic instincts.

She finally managed to sneak her hand in his boxers but he nudged it away so he could roll on her, arranging the blankets so everything would be covered – not that there was anything to see, she couldn't even guess at his features in the pitch dark room.

They were no strangers to sex-with-clothes-on but it was difficult to maneuver when lying in a narrow bed with the pressing need to be quiet at all cost. Besides, she had asked him to make love to her and she could tell he was attempting to do just that. He wasn't rushing it like he – or she, for that matter – usually did. He propped himself on his elbow not to crush her with his weight, his other hand roaming under her shirt, caressing, brushing and teasing. His mouth ran on her throat, he kept licking and sucking the delicate skin between his teeth, no doubt leaving marks, and she spared a thought for the explaining she would have to do if they ever survived the night. He had just slipped his hand down her pants when the next bomb hit. He didn't pause, he continued working her up, kissing her deep and raw. If he was aiming at distracting her, it was working.

There were a lot of things she would have loved to do to him and she had no doubt there were a lot of things he wanted to do to her but there was neither room nor any opportunity to actually do them without risking getting caught. The fumbles under the blankets were already a gambit as it was. Getting her pants out of the way discreetly required a lot of wriggling and frustrated efforts.

"I'm regretting the dresses and skirts." he grumbled.

"If those are your only regrets right now, consider yourself lucky." she retorted. "I regret every decisions that brought me here."

"You'd rather be in a Capitol cell being tortured for information you don't have?" he spat.

"Compared to the possibility of being blown to smithereens any second?" she shot back. "I should never have let you kiss me the first time. My whole life would have been very different if I just had pushed you away. I bet I would have been promoted years ago."

"You kissed me the first time." he argued, finally succeeding in pushing her pants away and settling between her legs.

"I was the most popular escort of the year, I was on my way to greatness and I could have had any man by clicking my fingers, why would I have kissed a drunk?" she hissed.

"'Cause you're kinky and you like it rough." he scorned, burying himself in her in one very practiced and familiar move. "And you had a crush on me ever since you were twelve."

"Is that what you tell yourself at night?" she replied. She had meant it to be taunting but it came out breathless and almost desperate. She could almost feel him throbbing with need inside of her, his whole body was shaking with the urge to do something but he was fighting to keep still. "Haymitch, I swear to god if you don't move right now, I will rip your head off before a bomb can kill us."

"Don't be bitchy." he chuckled in her ear.

"You love me bitchy." she panted, rocking her hips to prompt a reaction out of him.

He let out a low whine that he muffled in the crook of her neck. She didn't think he ought to be concerned with being too loud though, there were so many people talking, crying and occasionally shouting, she didn't think anyone would notice if one of them screamed their rapture at the top of their lungs.

"Not just bitchy." he whispered, right before he finally started moving.

She had difficulties making sense of that statement. It was always difficult to think when he was in her and it was made worse by her building climax. It almost sounded like a love declaration but it couldn't be, could it?

She completely forgot about it when her orgasm rippled through her, he swallowed her gasp with his mouth, and he came at the same time another bomb made the bunker shake.

"Give a brand new meaning to earth-shattering, right?" he snorted.

She rolled her eyes. "How long have you been waiting to deliver that pun?"

She couldn't see him at all, but she just knew he was sporting a smirk.

"Don't rain on my parade, sweetheart." he teased.

They arranged their clothes properly back on. Effie glanced around but she truly didn't think anyone suspected anything untoward had been going on. For one, nobody could see anything.

They settled back down on the bed. She snuggled close to his side and rested her head on his shoulder.

"If I have to die, I am glad you are here with me." she declared.

"'Cause you hate me so much you want me dead?" he chuckled.

She wanted to tell him it was because she loved him but she knew he wouldn't appreciate the words – or maybe he would, it was hard to say with him sometimes, but they would certainly send him in a panic and she didn't want that. Mere hints at those words terrified him.

"Yes, exactly." she huffed instead, keeping her voice light so he would know the lie for what it was. She pecked him on the lips, he deepened the kiss.

"Good. I hate you too, sweetheart." he breathed out, brushing the wayward strands that had escaped her scarf away from her face.

She understood what he truly meant.

It almost made the whole ordeal worth it.