Prompt : so I was re-reading some of HaDS and the one about Effie always being cold & aymitch warming her is adorable and I was wondering whether you could do something during the games where they're up late watching the them or something and Effie keeps complaining that she's freezing and aymitch ends up being all" for fucks sake, come here" to warm her up/shut her up ;)

Warm You Up

"Can you stop your fucking fidgeting?" Haymitch snapped, annoyed beyond measure.

For one thing, he was sober; for another, the crowning ceremony was taking forever and he couldn't wait to go back to the penthouse. The victor of the seventy-second Hunger Games, a young boy from Two, was clearly enjoying himself and his time with Caesar. The ceremony had been dragging for more than an hour and a half already.

Since night had fallen, about fifteen minutes earlier, Trinket was being infernal. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to another, occasionally stomping her heels against the stone floor of the City Center, and folding and unfolding her arms in front of her chest.

Heads turned at his raised voice and she glared at him, clearly irritated that he would dare make a scene. Well… She shouldn't have forced him to come in the first place.

He enjoyed pushing her buttons too much to pass on such a splendid occasion.

"Do you have to pee?" he asked very loudly.

"Haymitch!" she hissed, utterly mortified.

"Yeah?" he replied innocently.

Given the manic glint in her eyes, he wondered if one could be killed with a very small handbag.

"Manners." she warned him, pursing her lips in a threatening fashion.

Effie Trinket could be frightening sometimes but that night wasn't one of those. She looked almost pitiful, she was restless and unable to stand still.

It figured, he thought, the robot was human after all.

"You do need to pee, don't you?" he chuckled, lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry past them.

He glanced around but there was no way they could escape the crowd. The City Center was packed with people and she had insisted on them getting a good view which meant they were lost in the sea of stylists, prep teams and various Games officials in attendance. He could spy Chaff, a few feet away, forced to attend by his escort like he had been.

"This is not a question you should ever ask a lady." she grumbled.

"You're not a lady, you're a nightmare." he mocked. "And if you need to pee, you're in trouble 'cause I don't see how you will get out of here before it's over and that boy doesn't look in any hurry."

"I don't need to…" she growled, letting the end of the sentence unfinished. She clicked her tongue with obvious annoyance at being forced to admit a weakness he could use against her in their unrelenting bickering match. "I am cold if you must know."

It wasn't really cold in his opinion but he was used to Twelve's harsh weather. More than one Capitol were burrowing into their jacket or wraps or whatever they could use to warm up. Effie had nothing but her thin lacy dress that didn't cover much and her handbag.

She looked at him, expectant.

"What?" he scoffed.

"A gentleman would offer his jacket." she pointed out, gritting her teeth.

"Yeah, but I'm not a gentleman, sweetheart, that's what you're always telling me." he taunted.

"Ruffian." she huffed.

She stared at one of the giant screens again, pretending to follow what was happening on stage. He waited five minutes and when he had concluded than he was more irritated by her fidgeting than amused by her predicament, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her without any comment.

She slipped it on equally silently and barely nodded her thanks.

Not very polite that.

For a while, she seemed to be content with his jacket but as the ceremony went on, she failed to focus on what the new victor was saying and started a running commentary about everything and nothing at once : whatever crime against fashion this one was committing, how insufferably long the ceremony was, how yellow didn't suit the new victor, how Haymitch should pay more attention to what she was saying… And in between every new observation, came a variation of "this cold is unbearable!".

He bore it as long as he could but in a need to stop the streaming of words pouring out of her mouth, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her against him.

"Haymitch!" she gasped. "Unhand me at once!"

"I'm warming you up." he retorted.

"We're in public." she countered, trying to escape his hold without creating a scene. "You will start rumors!"

"Imagine the scandal if anyone thought Miss Prim and Proper was actually getting some…" he snorted.

"Always so vulgar!" she scowled. "I will have you know I am getting plenty, don't concern yourself over my sex life."

"I'm not. Though, if you keep wriggling like that, I'm going to get concerned real fast if you catch my drift." He loosened his hold enough that she could move away if she truly wanted to but that last comment seemed to have done wonders because she suddenly stilled.

"You're disgusting." she declared.

"Takes one to know one." he muttered. "Now, either you let me warm you up or you make do with that jacket but either way you're shutting up, Princess. That guy's irritating enough as it is." He nodded to the victor acting like a peacock.

She breathed out a deep sight to let him know just how much he was grating on her nerves. In truth, he expected her to step away. She was always careful about her public imagine, always studied every of her public moves a thousand times before doing anything…

He was surprised when instead of shrugging off his arms, she relaxed into his chest.

"The entire center is crowded." she said, almost defensively. "Nobody is paying attention so I suppose… This is alright."

"Okay." he accepted easily enough, enjoying the feeling of having a woman in his arms more than was probably sane. How long had it been since he had hugged another human being? He was probably overdue for a one night stand…

And when her hand tentatively covered his and her thumb started drawing silly patterns on his skin, well…

It was still a practical move to make sure his escort wouldn't die of pneumonia and would stop talking his ear off, nothing more.

At least, that was what he tried to convinced himself of.

Even when he propped his chin on her shoulder and breathed in the musky scent of her perfume.

He was tired of standing, that was all.

She was Capitol.

And it was a fact well-known that he hated everything Capitol.