Prompt : I imagine that for a while after her imprisonment, Effie wouldn't really be all that into sex (especqially if it triggered flashbacks). Please could you do a fluffy fic where haymitch knows she's not comfortable with that so they spend the night just making out like teenagers instead :3

Nothing is actually discussed but what happened to her is obvious so beware if you think it can trigger anything. Also I'm not sure I did a fantastic job with this so sorry in advance

The Difference Between Night And Day

By day, Effie was the same Effie she had always been : cheerful, energetic, and frankly annoying.

By night, it was another story.

She had been dropping by on visits for a few months now, under the pretext of checking on them all and making sure Haymitch wasn't too much of a bother for the kids to handle – to make sure he didn't drink himself into an early grave just yet too, he gathered. Katniss and Peeta were enjoying her visits very much, always happy to see her, always rambling to him once she was gone about how good it was to know some things would never change. For someone who was madly in love with an ever evolving fashion, Effie Trinket was resisting change with everything she had.

She had found a job with Plutarch after the war, not as a host – an idea she had played with for a while but had rejected out of fear for public exposure and because a majority of people wanted to forget about escorts not see them on TV – but as one of his numerous assistants which meant she was in charge of expanding channel networks in the Districts and finding new program ideas that would appeal to specific groups of people. She had explained it to him a thousand times but he had never bothered to try and truly understand what it was she did. He only knew she seemed to like her job and that was enough for him.

That was by day.

By night…

Haymitch wasn't stupid. He knew there was a problem, something she hadn't told him. At the time of her rescue, he had only asked her doctors if she would make it and what her life-threatening injuries were because those had seemed the most important questions. Now, he wasn't as sure and he was resisting the urge to ask Plutarch for her file. She wouldn't welcome the breach of trust and he figured it had to come from her anyway.

He had known there was a problem from the first time she had visited them, she had left her suitcases in the corridor for him to haul upstairs and, once he had dragged them up the stairs, she had then quietly relocated them to the guest room while he wasn't looking. Of course, he would have put them in his bedroom if she had given him enough time. Why ever not? He didn't think he had been presuming too much. They had been sleeping together for years, she had showed up on his doorstep with her suitcases not at one of the kids'…

At first he had thought it was out of confusion for their ever baffling relationship – it was hard to keep track, even for him : enemies, friends, sex-buddies, lovers... the list was endless. He had told her he wouldn't mind trying for something more, something real, not just a quick fumble stolen here and there. It hadn't been enough to convince her to sleep in his room. She had nodded with a beaming smile and had hugged him until he was sure his head would pop but that had been the extend of her reaction.

She still kissed him though. She kissed him like she had always kissed him, with fire and passion and that little spark of madness he loved. She kissed him until he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but slowly die out of need for her… Every time his hands became too insistent though, she would grip them with a ready-made excuse and flee from his arms.

He never insisted too much.

But he hated sleeping alone when she was in the house.

So, that night, as he watched her bustling all around the kitchen in her nightgown, chatting about what a good day it had been and putting away everything they had used for their late tea, he mused it couldn't go on like that forever. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind while she was standing at the sink, she melted into his chest with a content sigh and simply coiled her hand, still wet from washing the two mugs they had used, around his neck. He pressed a soft kiss against her neck.

"Sleep with me tonight." he requested.

The change in demeanor was immediate. She tensed, her breathing quickened, she didn't explicitly say no but the way she was gripping his forearm – so hard her nails were digging in his flesh – was telling enough.

"Just to sleep." he clarified.

She relaxed, but only slightly, and nodded quietly. He was almost sorry for asking because she looked like a lamb going to slaughter on the way upstairs. Her eyes were wide, her lips tight and she was so clearly spooked, he almost told her to forget it. She soldiered on, though, because she was Effie Trinket and Effie Trinket didn't let anything stand in her way, not even her own fears.

She looked better once they were actually in bed, she relaxed enough to rest her head on his chest and toss an arm over his waist. He held the hand on his hip and petted her hair in what he hoped to be a soothing fashion.

"I am sorry." she whispered.

"Don't." he growled. He couldn't bring himself to say he didn't mind because it would have been a huge lie, but he wanted her to feel safe and not pressured into anything she didn't want to do. "You're ready when you're ready and if it never happens, it never happens." He gave a small shrug, careful not to dislodge her head. "But it doesn't mean you have to stay in another room. I'm not a beast, sweetheart. You can just tell me to stop when you're not comfortable anymore, no need to run away."

She propped her chin on his chest, her face was bathed with so much tenderness he could barely hold her gaze. He didn't feel he deserved it.

"I love you." she offered.

He already knew that but it was the first time she had said it so plainly and the words made him want to roar with pride. It was surprising. He had thought they would send him running.

He cradled her head in his hands and pulled her in a kiss she readily accepted, aware he wouldn't be able to voice his own feelings. He realized it was the first time they had kissed on a bed since the war, it was also the first time they were lying down together since the Quell… And it was strangely perfect. He brought her closer, held her tighter, as she deepened the kiss. Her hand slipped under his shirt, running over his less than firm stomach, coaxing a moan out of him. He was starved for her touch but not starved enough to rush into things.

His fingers trailed up and down her spine, cautiously wandering lower to cup a feel. She groaned against his mouth. Encouraged, he let his hand go lower, toying with the hem of the nightgown, brushing the back of her thighs… She stopped kissing him so he placed his hand back on the small of her back.

"Wanna sleep?" he suggested, thinking they might have made enough progress for that night.

She shook her head though and tugged at his shirt a little, obviously hesitant but looking determined at the same time. He lifted his arms, letting her take his shirt off but frowned a little. "Sweetheart, you don't have to…"

"We are testing boundaries." she decided, planting kisses on his chest and he flopped back down and forgot to protest.

She nibbled along the pale line of hair on his belly, always her favorite place to leave marks. He quickly pulled her up and kissed her again, ignoring her protests about having missed the smell of his skin. It wouldn't be testing boundaries very long if she went on teasing on that path. He pushed her on her back, still kissing her, careful to angle his hips away from her so she couldn't feel his arousal.

"Okay?" he asked, spreading his hand on her ribcage and nuzzling her neck with his nose.

"Yes." she breathed out.

For a second, he felt like a stupid sixteen years old again, when it had been all about going that little bit further, experimenting that little bit more, but being careful not to push too much in fear of being slapped.

He cupped her breast gently, watching her face for any tale that she was uncomfortable with it. Her eyes closed, her lips parted… He played for a few minutes, delighting in eliciting tiny gasps from her… It was only when he pushed the strap of her gown down to kiss her breasts that her eyes opened wide and she stared at him with fright. He fixed her nightgown and took his hand away quickly, placing it back on her waist and waiting for her breathing to calm down.

Fondling over clothes was alright but not skin on skin, he noted down in a corner of his brain.

Now he really felt like a sixteen years old again, he mused, without any sort of resentment. He wanted her to be comfortable with him, not forcing herself to do anything she wasn't ready for.

"Can we…" Her sentence trailed off but she didn't have to finish it.

"Yeah, sure." he agreed at once, rolling on his back so she could snuggle close again. She lied down against his side again but not before pressing a lingering kiss against his neck and another one against his mouth.

"I love you." she said again, apparently thrilled to be able to tell that aloud without him freaking out.

"Sleep, sweetheart." he whispered, burying his nose in her hair.

He breathed in the smell of her flower shampoo and wished he could fall asleep like that every day.