prompt : Hello! Could you write one where effie catches haymitch *ahem* pleasuring himself *ahem* Thank you! (I always love your writing, you write them exactly like I imagine them;))

This is crack and I'm sorry.

Red Handed

They were late which was absolutely unacceptable in Effie's standards. Granted, it was her fault, she had gone out the previous night and drank a little much more than reasonable and, as a consequence, she had gotten a late start that morning. Still, they had an interview scheduled at noon and Haymitch should have known better than lounging in bed until eleven.

She knew him like the back of her hand, she mused as she hurried to his room, he would have completely forgotten about the interviews despite the color-coded timetable she had provided for him after the Reaping, and she had no doubt he had gone out with Chaff the night before and had gotten wasted beyond measure as was his usual habit. She was so certain she would find him still passed out on his bed – or on the floor near the bed or halfway to the bathroom, nothing fazed her anymore – that she walked in without pausing to knock.

"Rise and shine, Haymitch!" she chipped cheerfully. "We are to..."

Her sentence ended up in a small surprised gasp as she took in what was happening in the bedroom. Haymitch was still on his bed, that was true, but he was not sleeping or passed out. He was very much naked, a hand wrapped round his erected penis, the other on the page of a glossy magazine – that she recognized as the lingerie magazine she might have forgotten in the living-room the other day and had looked everywhere for since then because she really liked the red negligee on page six. Obviously she wasn't the only one who liked it.

For a second they both froze in shock.

And it wasn't exactly Effie's fault if, at that second, her eyes studied everything they could study from the length to the girth to the shape. And it wasn't all she saw. She saw the lust shining in Haymitch's eyes, the same sort of lust she sometimes spied in his gaze when she was wearing a particularly tight dress.

He got red in the face and pressed a pillow against his groin before she could catalogue any more.

"Out!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. It made her wince, she thought they could probably hear him three floors down. "GET OUT, TRINKET!"

He looked downright murderous and she knew for a fact he kept a knife in his bed so she chose to make a hasty retreat. She fled to the corridor and closed the door right behind her, unable to contain the silly giggles that escaped her.

"Stop laughing!" he shouted from the other side of the door. "I can hear you!"

She leaned against the wall and pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle the sound. She made sure there would be no trace of laughter in her voice when she spoke next.

"I need you dressed and ready to go on live television in less than half an hour, Haymitch." she called out. "But I do think you have time to... finish. And please, if you would be so kind, I would like my magazine back."

"I'm going to kill you!" he swore, a little out of breath.

She wondered if he had gone right back to work. She also found the thought was strangely appealing, him touching himself to the sound of her voice...

She chased those ideas very far from her mind and forced a cheer to her voice.

"Promises, always promises..." she taunted.

"Just wait!" he growled. "Get the fuck away, Trinket! You're making it hard to focus."

"Would that be because you are now thinking about me?" she hummed, folding her arms over her chest. "I would have thought hard is rather the point."

There was a small silence and she wondered if she had gone too far on the flirtatious side of bantering.

"Don't play with fire, sweetheart." he said at last, sounding less angry and more begging.

She would enjoy making him beg in a certain context, she decided. She would enjoy begging too.

It would have been so easy to throw the door open again, to step in and forget for a little while just how much they hated each other... But it was a Pandora box she wasn't ready to open just yet.

"Half an hour, Haymitch." she warned.

She pretended she wasn't disappointed as she sauntered away, a bright smile on her lips and a spring to her step.

She was very good at pretending.