Prompt : I saw this sketch on your blog and I'm wondering could you make a prompt out of it? Hayffie falling asleep together, with Effie on top of him? And it's all comfy but very awkward the next morning because I imagine it to be before any sexual relationship? Just two very exhausted lonely whatever they are pals? Thank you so much if you decide to do it.

I am pretty sure the sketch was from archervale (she's on tumblr and deviant art) but I'm not sure since the ask isn't more specific and the ask dates back from a couple of months.

Which reminds me I wanted to say to any newcomers leaving prompts in reviews that there are a lot of them so if you prompt something it might take some time (and I can't reply to guest review ;) )

Accidental Cuddling

Haymitch's eyelids fluttered open because of the sunlight trickling from the large bay windows of the penthouse living-room. For a second, he couldn't be bothered to move and he made a list of everything that was hurting : he had a headache which wasn't surprising, he had a crick in the neck, something was pressing on his bladder in a way that was very uncomfortable and something else was tickling his nose.

The thing tickling his nose turned out to be a pink wig.

The thing pressing on his bladder was his escort.

How they had ended up sprawled on the couch with her lying on top of him, he had no clue. They were both dressed so he supposed that was always a plus. If he had slept with her and forgotten everything about it she would have thrown a fit.

He tried to wriggle from under her – because now that he was awake and aware a woman was pressed tightly against him, other parts of him were waking up too and it was awkward enough as it was – but she groaned in her sleep and held him tighter. Her arms were wrapped around his torso, her head pillowed on his chest and one of his legs was wedged between hers which meant her thigh was very much pressing against the part of him that was very happy to wake up.

He gritted his teeth and tried to think about other things.

It didn't quite work out.

"Trinket." he grumbled, poking her in the side. He was hoping that she would open her eyes, shriek in horror and bolt away before she could feel his morning wood. Instead she burrowed further against his chest with a content sigh, she slid her leg higher and he closed his eyes really tight to prevent himself from rocking his hips.

How did they end up like that? All he remembered was that she was chatting and chatting about something or other, refusing to go to bed because she claimed she wasn't tired and very much drinking the rest of his booze which meant she was still upset about the death of their tributes and refused to admit it… He must have fallen asleep but it didn't explain why she had decided to sleep here.

"Trinket." he repeated, shaking her shoulder.

Again, he expected her to jump as far away from the couch as possible. After all, she was always only too happy to tell him just how bad he smelled and, to be honest, he hadn't bothered with a shower in a few days and that morning he wouldn't have quite blamed her for wrinkling her nose as she often did. He could smell the sweat and the fume of liquor and it wasn't pleasing.

She didn't jump. She let out a long hum that was halfway between a whine and a purr.

"Stop talking, I'm sleeping." she mumbled. "Go annoy someone else, Haymitch. I'm not your escort when I'm sleeping."

"Yeah." he snorted. "You're sleeping. On me."

He had to crane his neck to see her face properly. He didn't want to miss the upcoming horror once she realized that not only had she used him as a pillow all night but that the thing against her thigh was a sign of arousal – he had no hope of hiding that now.

She didn't even open her eyes.

"You fell asleep while I was talking last night." she accused.

"You're always talking." he retorted, frankly distraught now. She wasn't supposed to be so at ease with waking up on him. "You do that a lot, sweetheart? Sleeping on various dudes 'cause they fell asleep of boredom while you were babbling?"

"We're friends." she said, stretching her whole body only to settle back in a more comfortable position – for her, he had to clench his teeth because she was still crushing both his bladder and his morning wood and he had trouble deciding which was worse. "Friends do that."

"Not in Twelve." he argued. "And we're not friends. Who said we were friends?"

"You're so old-fashioned…" she sighed. "I didn't want to be alone and you were already asleep, who did it hurt? Now go back to sleep, Haymitch, I'm still tired."

Was she serious?

Stupid question.

It was Effie Trinket, any ridiculous statement coming from her was always serious.

"Look, Princess, you really need to move." he scowled.

"No." she declared. "I'm comfortable."

"Effie, I reek." he stated plainly.

"I don't mind so much." she hummed, nuzzling her nose against his neck – and he had to swallow, he had to swallow really hard because it was getting difficult to keep a clear head. "It's funny, isn't it, how the most disgusting smell can become comforting? I think it is. You always smell like sweat, liquor and cheap soap. Even in the Capitol, even with all the fancy products at your disposal, you still smell like cheap soap."

"Right now I smell like sweat, whiskey and dirty clothes." he growled. "Get off me."

"It never bothered you to reek before." she pointed out without making any move to step away. "If I had known all I had to do was lie on you to make you aware that smelling nice was better, I would have done it years ago."

The words lie on you took another connotation in his mind and he closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids.

"You really need to get off me now." he insisted, almost pitifully.

"Give me one good reason." she challenged.

"Sure. Have two : I really need to pee and if you keep pressing your leg against my dick, I'm going to come and it's going to be very embarrassing for us both." he snapped.

She froze.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." he scoffed.

She slid off him, red in the face and stared at the pink carpet covering the floor.

"I do apologize I didn't think…" she stuttered. "Well, I thought it was a simple case of morning erection and it would go away eventually."

"It will go away just fine once I take care of it." he muttered, studying her. Her dress was riding high up her thighs, the pink wig looked disheveled but was still adhering to her skull well enough that he couldn't guess at her real hair color. "What's with the need for a sleeping buddy, sweetheart?"

She waved that question away but didn't meet his eyes. She cleared her throat. "I didn't think it would make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry."

"Waking up to my escort sleeping on me and rubbing her leg against my dick, why would I be uncomfortable?" he taunted. "I'm very open to the rubbing, though. I prefer to be on top but I'm sure we could work something out…"

Her smudged make-up wasn't hiding anything anymore and it was plain to see the flush was equal part embarrassment and anger.

"I would never sleep with you." she vowed petulantly.

"You just did." he smirked, wriggling his eyebrows.

She wasn't amused. She pursed her lips, tilted her head and managed to look both annoyed and utterly unimpressed. "Didn't you have urgent matters to attend to?"

"Yeah." he granted, walking to the door and leaving her behind. He paused on the threshold and glanced back though. "You know I'm going to think about you all my shower, right?"

"Well, have fun with your fantasy, Haymitch, because that's all you will ever get of me." she huffed before he could mock her by offering to share his shower.

He silently acknowledged his defeat.

If only to reach the shower more quickly.