Prompt : Here's a prompt for you, maybe you want to bookmark it. Effie is working out in 12 and Haymitch is making fun of her. I would love to read something which goes from funny to serious because Effie doesn't feel beautiful and Haymitch has to convince her that he loves her the way she is and that she doesn't have to work out for him.

Warning for some steam later down. Thanks again for your birthday wishes!

Working Out

"What are you doing?" Haymitch asked, a little shocked to find his living-room upside down. The couch had been pushed back, the coffee table was neatly tucked under the window and the armchairs were against the walls, even the rug had been rolled up. And in the space that had been cleared, Effie was on her back, eyes riveted to the TV screen, hands behind her head, neck craned up, and her legs pedaling in the air. She was wearing spandex blue shorts with a matching sports bra that left her midsection bare.

She turned her head in his direction, her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment – or that could have been from the working out, he wasn't sure – and stared at the TV again. On the screen, a woman was doing the same sort of ridiculous moves as Effie, calling out to her viewers to hang in there.

"What are you doing here?" she replied, out of breath but with tangible irritation. "You're not usually home at this time."

"Sorry, I didn't know I needed to stick to a schedule to come and go in my own damned house." he grumbled, flopping down on the couch. "So, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" she panted. "I am working out."

The woman on TV hopped on her feet suddenly and Effie did the same albeit a little more awkwardly. She imitated the show's host when she started to bounce up and down, lifting one knee and then the next in what seemed to be a painful and unnecessary torture to Haymitch.

"Yeah…" he snorted. "Why?"

Effie jogged once a week. He found it ridiculous, mainly because it was something she did out of a misplaced sense of obligation rather than enjoyment. She hated running, she hated being sweaty and she hated being tired afterwards. She insisted she needed to stay fit – which was doubly stupid in Haymitch's opinion because her imprisonment in the Capitol's cells had left her so skinny, he never wanted to see her so thin again. Three years after the war and regular batches of Peeta's cupcakes had helped her gaining some weight back. She was thirty-eight and certainly chubbier than she used to be when he had met her but he didn't see what was wrong with that. Still, the small bulge of fat around her waist – so small it was barely there really – was disturbing her because she didn't seem to be able to shake it off.

"I need to watch my figure." she offered, breathing loudly.

"No, you don't." he huffed.

"Yes, I do." she countered in a clipping tone. "I can't afford to let myself go."

"You're living in Twelve, you're not a fashion icon anymore, nobody cares about how you look. That's enough reason to cut yourself some slack." he shrugged. "So except if you're planning a public comeback… Who cares if you put on a little weight?"

She stopped her jumping and turned to glare at him, pressing a hand against her side. It took her a full minute to get her breathing back under control enough to speak.

"I am almost forty, I have wrinkles, my breasts are starting to sag and my body simply doesn't burn calories like it used to." she spat. "I used to be beautiful and I don't know how to be ugly, Haymitch."

He blinked at that unexpected speech and started laughing – a real laugh too, not the usual chuckles she and the kids sometimes managed to get out of him but a full heartfelt laughter that left him clutching his sides and panting for air.

"Well." she scoffed, her lips pursed in irritation. "I am happy to see you find it so funny."

"It's funny that you can still be so stupid and ridiculous, Princess." he retorted, dragging himself off the couch to wrap his arms around her. She struggled a little, just to show she was annoyed with him, but relented in the end, leaning against his chest and tucking her head neatly under his chin. Her sweaty hair tickled his face but he breathed it in. "You have a long way to go to be ugly."

"You say that now but wait until you find someone younger with perky breasts and smooth baby skin." she pouted.

"Yours are perky enough." he teased, cupping her breast with his hand. She batted his fingers away.

"I am serious." she hissed. "The only reason you ever took me to bed in the first place was because I was beautiful. The very foundations of our relationship are based on sex and attraction."

"Effie, that was years ago." He rolled his eyes. "We're a little past the sex craze stage now." Although he did love the sex part of their relationship. It had been great from the start, they just worked very well together. Nevertheless, their dynamics had changed after the war. It had been less about blowing steam and more about them. They rarely talked about feelings – he never did in any case – but they weren't just about sex. He certainly hadn't spent months comforting her in the dead of night after a nightmare just to eventually get laid. "Come on, what is this really about?"

She drew back enough to look him in the eyes. "Didn't you hear me the first time? I am almost forty, I have wrinkles, my breasts are sagging and I am becoming fat."

"Fat is big word." he mocked.

"You are so not helping." she sighed.

"Yeah, well, you're not listening to me, sweetheart." he rebuked. "I think you're gorgeous."

"Now you are only saying that to spare my feelings." she scowled.

She looked like a sulking child. It amazed him that she could still act so much like a spoiled brat but, at the same time, he had spent so many months fearing she would never go back to being the Effie he knew that it never annoyed him in quite the same way it had before the rebellion.

"I like the lines." he declared, dropping a kiss at the corner of her eyes. "Lines are a good thing in Twelve. People usually don't live old enough to get them. Besides, I only notice them when you smile and I like when you smile…"

She rolled her eyes but there was a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "You are so cheesy sometimes, Haymitch. Nobody would believe it if they knew."

He ignored that, brushing his fingertips against the bare skin of her waist before tracing the hem of the sports bra. He hated those things: they were ugly and difficult to remove. "And your breasts… I need a closer look."

"Haymitch…" she chided him but her voice was laced with amusement and she lifted her arms when he pulled the bra over her head.

His mouth was suddenly very dry and he licked his lips, his eyes riveted to her chest.

"You always look like a teenager who sees breasts for the first time." she teased.

He shot her a mild-glare, vowing to make her pay for that comment later. He brushed his fingers against her stomach and then retraced the shape of her collarbone but his hand never wandered where he truly wanted to touch.

"Haymitch." she growled. Her blue eyes were darker than usual.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he smirked.

"You know very well what's wrong." she hissed, grabbing his wrist and placing his hand on her breast.

"Bossy." he chuckled, touching her exactly like she liked to be touched. "See? I love your breasts, they fit in my hands. It's like they were made for me."

"You are a ridiculous man." She shook her head, openly smiling now. "And awfully overdressed." Her fingers deftly dealt with the buttons of shirt and she pressed a kiss against his chest, right over his heart. "Just so you know, I may be old and not as fit as I used to be but if you ever find a prettier younger woman, I might claw her face off and then kill you."

She had been threatening to kill him for years so he didn't truly find that alarming.

"Ah, yeah… You want to work out…" he snorted, dropping sloppy kisses along her throat. "I think I have a few ideas about that… I think you need a work out partner…"

She giggled when he pulled her down on the floor. It wasn't really comfortable without the rug but the sight of her bare breasts was enough to distract him.

"That's not a sportive activity, Haymitch." she chided him.

"With you and me? It is." he chuckled.