Prompt: hi, do you still do prompts? if so could you do one during the games where effie, haymitch, finnick, chaff, cinna, etc are all dining together and effie and haymitch automatically start switching around their food like she gives him onion or whatever because she doesn't like it and he gives her his strawberries and everyone else is watching them like wtf because theyre just so painfully domestic and they don't even know it

I made this movie!MJ because I saw no reason why Finnick and Chaff would have lunch with Cinna and Effie…

Your Married Is Showing

"Coin's never going to go for it, boy. Rescuing them is not even on the list of topics to discuss. Stop asking." Haymitch sighed around a mouthful of mushrooms. He ignored Effie's glaring at his lack of proper table manners as well as Finnick's grumbling. Beetee patted Four's victor's shoulder with compassion but didn't contradict Haymitch.

"I'm sure Annie is fine." Plutarch lied convincingly enough. "She has no intel, they have no reason to hurt her."

"Except to hurt me you mean?" Finnick scoffed, pushing his trail away from him.

Eating in Thirteen's dining hall reminded Haymitch of high school. He pushed the trail back in front of Finnick with enough strength that some of his mushrooms spilled right on the younger man's lap. "Eat. You want to go back to the hospital again?"

Next to him, Effie bristled. "Haymitch, really."

"What?" he grumbled. "You know I'm right."

"I also know there are nicer ways to say things." she snapped, stabbing one of his turnip with her fork and bringing it to her mouth. She chewed and swallowed – as was proper – before speaking again. "Finnick, dear, he does have a point. You need to get your strength back. Now, as disgusting as this food is, be a good boy and finish your plate."

"Disgusting is a word for it." Plutarch muttered, wrinkling his nose and pushing his own turnip around. "Revolting is another."

"Try eating nothing but cooked rats for a month and then we will talk about revolting food again." Haymitch spat, making a point of stabbing the rest of Effie's mushrooms and shoveling them into his mouth all at once. He chewed on them, not even bothering to properly close his mouth, ignoring the disgusted faces looking at him.

"Are the rats to blame for you not knowing how to eat in public?" Beetee teased.

"If Effie couldn't teach him in thirteen years of collaboration, it's a hopeless task." Plutarch sighed.

"It is a hopeless task." Effie agreed, slowly eating the rest of his turnips.

She put down her fork delicately and grabbed the bread with a lump of cheese she had been given as dessert. She stared at it for a few seconds and made a face. Without having to look, Haymitch handed her the fruit yoghurt on his tray and grabbed the bread and cheese.

He realized only after he had taken a bite that everyone was staring. Plutarch and Beetee looked amused, Finnick torn between laughter and annoyance.

"What?" he asked his friends.

"Nothing." Plutarch and Beetee answered at the same time.

Finnick wasn't so easily deterred though. "When did the two of you get so domestic?"

"Domestic?" Effie repeated with a frown, scraping the bottom of the yoghurt pot with her spoon to make sure she got everything. Strawberry was her favorite flavor. "We are certainly not domestic!"

"Actually, you're worse than a married couple." Beetee pointed out with a note of nostalgia. At the way he took off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt and wouldn't meet anyone's eyes, Haymitch knew his thoughts had wandered to Wiress

"What are you on about?" Haymitch scowled.

"You ate Effie's mushrooms." Finnick accused.

"She hates mushrooms." he replied defensively.

"She ate your turnips." the young man insisted.

"Well, she had to eat something." he retorted.

"You gave her your dessert and she didn't even have to ask." Finnick concluded.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "I strike you as the yoghurt type?"

"We have known each other for a very long time." Effie argued, more calmly.

"I've known Haymitch longer than you and he's not giving me his turnips…" Beetee smirked.

"You don't have enough cleavage." Finnick surmised.

"That must be it." Three's victor chuckled. "Or maybe he loves Effie more than he loves me."

Eating in Thirteen's dinner hall was definitely like going back to high school, Haymitch thought.

"Which one of you wants to be punched first?" he asked casually.

"There is no need for violence, Haymitch." Effie snapped, pursing her lips and tilting her head in that disapproving fashion of hers.

He grumbled but finished his bread.

"See?" Finnick mocked. "Your married is showing."

He supposed it was better for the younger man to taunt him than to stare at the wall in apathy but Haymitch was irritated all the same.

Fortunately, their wrists and their communicuffs called their back to their respective places, thus putting an end to that particular line of conversation – at least, up until Effie called at him to behave later on while they were discussing possible propos with Plutarch.

"To be fair, you two do look like an old married couple." the Head Gamemaker told him once Effie was out of earshot.

"I wasn't kidding about the punching." he threatened in a growl.

"Oh, you won't punch me." Plutarch grinned. "She forbade you to use violence and I know that look on your face, Haymitch. You are whipped."

Worst was, Plutarch wasn't wrong.