Prompt : i would loooovvve a fic where haymitch makes a bitchy remark about effie being on her period and then she slaps him, it would be hilarious!

AND

Prompt : it wasnt my ask but could you please do a fic with haymitch looking after effie when she has cramps XD

This is crack.

The Monthly Joy

Haymitch woke up to a cacophony of banging pots, cupboard doors slamming close and a lot of polite swearing. It certainly wasn't an unprecedented thing since Effie had moved in but it was occasional enough that it made him frown. He took his sweet time in the bathroom, hoping against all hope that by the time he'd appear downstairs she would have either calmed down or gone out.

No such luck, he mused as he stepped into the kitchen. Being startled awake by sudden noises wasn't the best way to put him in a good mood so he made a beeline for the cupboard where he kept the liquor and very much ignored her glaring. Any other day, he would have kissed her first but given the way she was looking at him, it didn't seem safe to approach her just yet.

"Don't even start about that." he warned once the liquor was in his hand and she opened her mouth to rant like he had known she would. "What's with the bitching so early in the morning?"

"The bitching?" she hissed. Tactical mistake on his part, he figured, he should just have used the geese excuse and fled the house. She tossed the sponge she had been using to scrub the kitchen table and glared harder. "Do you know how long I have been here cleaning up after you? Would it kill you to wipe the table when you are done using it?"

He had made himself a sandwich in the middle of the night, he remembered suddenly. He had slept poorly the previous night so instead of tossing and turning and disturbing her, he had gotten up and wandered around and at some point he had been hungry and he had made himself a sandwich.

"It was just a sandwich." he defended himself with irritation and a little bit of incomprehension.

"Crumbs everywhere!" she shouted. "There is a breadbox so why did I find the bread stale on the kitchen counter? Why? And is it really that hard to place your empty glass in the sink? Is it really that hard not to make my house a pigsty?"

"Not your house, is it?" he snapped.

Instead of disputing the point – it was moot anyway, it was as much her house as his by now – she advanced on him, pointing an accusing finger at his stomach. "You do not need midnight snacks anyway. You are becoming fat. You are out of shape."

He instinctively pulled his stomach in, strangely self-conscious. He didn't care about how he looked, he never had, but she was his… whatever – he didn't have a word for what she was to him – and it was disturbing to think she might not be attracted to him anymore. He didn't like the thought and chose to laugh it off.

"'Cause you think you're not out of shape? You don't even have a shape to speak off, you're like a scarecrow." he retorted and immediately cursed himself for the shiny tears that appeared in her eyes. Her weight problems weren't exactly her fault, she had troubles gaining back the pounds she had lost during her imprisonment. His mouth was running though and he never knew how to stop talking before it was too late. "Seriously, you're like a bloody harpy having her period." He saw the slap coming and grabbed her wrist before she could land a hit. Too far, he thought. "Effie…"

She struggled free and stormed out. He heard her stomping upstairs and waited for the bedroom door to slam but it never came – ladies didn't slam doors after all. He didn't dare follow her, all the more so when it occurred to him, a few minutes later, that she must have been having her period.

He couldn't help a wince, he was still trying to compose with that every month. They had known each other for years but they had never lived together like that before and he had never been forced to deal with a woman getting irrational on a monthly basis for five days or more. If she had ever been having her period during the Games, he had never known. They hadn't shared that kind of relationship at the time – and he sometimes thought it was a blessing because if she was naturally bitchy, it only got worse when she was bleeding.

He waited for hours but she didn't come back down so he prepared lunch – and was careful to wipe everything afterwards this time, he didn't fancy being murdered for a wayward crumb. When he was done, he wandered upstairs and approached their bedroom with the same caution he would have showed in an arena.

"Sweetheart?" he called, hoping the moniker would soften her. "Lunch's ready."

"I'm not hungry." she replied.

He had expected to find her cleaning around the room or moving things around – she did that a lot – but she was lying on the unmade bed, under the covers, with her back to him. That was both uncharacteristic and slightly worrying. He crept closer, hoping that it wasn't a trap and that she wasn't about to stab him with his own knife – and, yes, he knew she had a point when she repeatedly accused him of being a drama queen.

"You're sulking?" he frowned, sitting next to her on the bed.

"No." she denied. "I think I may have overreacted and I apologize but you should have cleaned after yourself, Haymitch, I am not the housekeeper." There was a moment of silence and a suspicious sniffing noise. "I'm sorry I called you fat. You are not fat although you should really think about doing some physical activity because all the liquor is not doing anything good to your body."

"You know sorry doesn't count if you add a but." he snorted but his heart wasn't in it. He was worried. "Are you crying?"

He tried to tug on her shoulder so she would roll on her back but she stubbornly resisted him and curled up in an even tighter ball. She wasn't sobbing but there were traces of tears on her cheeks.

Effie never cried if she could help it.

"Okay, I'm sorry I called you a scarecrow, sweetheart." he said quickly. "And a harpy. Please, don't cry."

He hated it when she cried. She had done that a lot in the beginning, during and after nightmares and flashbacks, and he had been helpless to help her, to stop the sobs.

"I'm not crying because you called me names." she said. "Even though I would thank you not to do it again."

"What's up then?" he insisted, squeezing her shoulder. "Did you have a flashback?"

They came less and less now but they tended to reappear in upsetting or stressful situations.

"Cramps." she mumbled.

It took him a good ten seconds to realize what she meant.

"Oh." was all he could answer to that. "You're in pain." he deduced feeling like an idiot or a teenager or perhaps both. "Do we have pills? I can get you a pill…"

"I already took two." she said.

"And you're still in pain?" he frowned. "That's weird. Maybe you need a doctor. I can…"

"It's perfectly normal, Haymitch." she hissed in her you're such an idiot voice. "If you truly want to help, I wouldn't mind a hot water bottle."

He bolted from the bed at once. She was pale, her lips were pursed in a tight line, there were still tears falling from her eyes and she was so obviously hurting it was killing him. She could have asked him for a piece of the moon at that second, he would have found a way to get it to her if that meant it would relieve her.

"You want me to get the fireplace running?" he asked. It wasn't cold but if she was cold…

"Just a hot water bottle, please." she whispered.

He made a quick job of it and when he gave it to her, she curled up around it with a satisfied sigh.

"The warmth helps?" he deduced.

"Sometimes." she shrugged. "It's a shame we have only one, I have back pains too."

He had a solution for that. He toed off his shoes and curled up behind her, spooning her so tight he was flushed right against her. "Better?"

"Why is it you are only being so nice and caring when I am in pain?" she hummed.

Because each time he saw her in pain or truly upset over something, it reminded him just how easily he could lose her.

"'Cause you're good at taking care of yourself the rest of the time." he grumbled.

"Insufferable man." she huffed with fondness.

"It keeps you on your toes." he chuckled, dropping a kiss on her neck.