Prompt : hayffie + arguing but secretly being kind of turned on by it (I'd love it to be in district 13 )

Warning for some steam!

Solving a Dispute

"Yeah!" he snarled, easily blocking her attempts at slamming the door of her compartment shut on him and following her inside. "And when you get yourself strangled to death because you're too stupid to listen to me, what happens then?" He flung the door shut behind him so hard it bounced back.

"Well, then you are finally freed from me and you will finally stop annoying me." she snapped, sidestepping him to slide the door shut more sensibly, probably to avoid causing a scene. People had been giving them weird looks ever since they had stormed out of the hospital ward, clearly not used to seeing a victor and his escort shouting at each other. Too bad. That was the only way he and Effie communicated.

"See if I care if you get yourself killed." he shot back.

"Oh, I already know you won't." she hissed. "Which begs the question, why are you even here at all?"

It was a good question.

He hadn't been aware she had been in regular contacts with Peeta, too busy keeping an eye on Katniss and planning a fucking rebellion. He had been informed Delly was helping the boy but he hadn't known Effie was waltzing in and out of his room too until he had dropped by unannounced.

It had been very clear Peeta wouldn't hesitate to snap Katniss' neck and he had overpowered the girl and Boggs and him even though they were all quite good at defending themselves. What chances would Effie have against him? And yet there she was, joyfully baking – or rather, making a mess – chatting with Delly and the boy as if nothing was the matter… That woman was stupid. As if it wasn't enough risks to parade around Thirteen in that customized uniform of hers. One day, someone would get tired of her antics and toss her in a cell and they would see if she still clung to her damn pride then.

At his lasting silence, she huffed and turned her back on him under the pretense of tidying the room. As if it needed tidying. Nobody had much in that District and she was such a control freak even her shoes were aligned.

"You can leave now." she said and when he didn't move, she glared at him, her hands on her hips. "It wasn't a suggestion."

She had used two shirts to make a sort of big dress and it slipped on her shoulder, revealing creamy skin and her collarbone. No bra strap. He didn't know why his brain chose to focus on that detail but his eyes followed suit and drifted down to her chest.

Damn her and damn that stupid uniform. How was he supposed to ignore her when she didn't look like a clown?

"Are you ogling me?" she scowled as if it was the worst crime he ever committed.

"Please!" he scoffed. His ears were burning and he was sure he was red in the face. "You're the one who's been crushing on me since you were twelve no me."

Her eyes narrowed down to slits and she pursed her lips tight, her chest heaving with irritation.

"Your sixteen year old self might have been appealing but I can assure you your twenty-seven year old self wasn't." she retorted. "Any flame I may have carried in my youth died when I first met you."

"Harsh." he mocked.

"Perhaps you are the one with a crush now…" she taunted, folding her arms over her chest in a way that only made her breasts perk out. It was cold. She wasn't wearing anything under that shirt, he could see it clearly. It sent his blood south really fast.

"Keep telling yourself that." he sneered.

"Oh, I don't need to tell myself that, as you say. I know." she gloated. "You are attracted to me, Haymitch."

"No, I'm not." he scoffed.

"Then why are you staring at my lips?" she smirked.

"Because you can't stop talking." he deadpanned.

"Really? Are you sure it isn't because you like me better without all that… stuff?" she mocked.

"Thought you liked me better sober?" he retorted.

"You are just as insufferable sober as drunk." she declared. "That is quite a disappointment."

She perched herself on the little table and crossed her legs. The shirt rode up her thighs and slipped further down her shoulder.

He licked his lips, his eyes retracing the alluring length of her legs.

"Ah!" she triumphed. "I knew it! You are practically drooling all over me."

"'M not." he grumbled. But god helped him, he was. The fact that she could match him gibe for gibe had always been a turn on but it had been easy to keep that at bay when she had looked all Capitol. Now though… Now there was no hiding how attractive she was. "You're indecent." he accused.

She lifted her eyebrows with obvious amusement and placed her hands a inch or two behind her on the table, leaning back slightly in a way that was both inviting and seductive. "Really? That's the best you can come up with? Indecent?"

He knew it was the perfect moment to leave before it escalated. She was a flirt and a tease and he had watched her play that exact same game with too many men to count over the years.

"Don't play with fire, sweetheart." he warned.

"Fire." she repeated, thoughtful. "Now, that's a little arrogant, isn't it?"

How had they gone from arguing about her taking unnecessary risks to this? This wasn't their usual brand of bantering and flirting. This was purposeful and he could feel them stumbling over the other side of the safety line they had been clinging to for so long.

"Stop playing." he insisted. He needed her to stop before she unleashed the beast that slumbered in him. He wouldn't be sweet and loving like she probably was used to. Lust made him brutal and rough and he was very much lusting after her.

"Where would be the fun in that?" she laughed, throwing her head back so her throat was exposed. "There are so few distractions to be had in this place… I want to play."

He crossed the room in three purposeful strides, coiled his hand around her neck and pulled her into a forceful kiss. She answered readily and in kind, with such eagerness that it didn't feel like kissing but fighting. That, at least, was familiar. With his other hand, he nudged her legs apart and stepped between them, before pushing her upper body on the table. He pinned her there with a hand on her chest.

"You're sure you want to play?" he growled.

She licked her bruised lips, watching him with dark blue eyes. She was turned on, he realized. This was turning her on.

"Do I get to play too?" she purred, locking her legs around his waist in a death grip.

His only answer was to tear that customized uniform of her.

Afterwards, when they lied in a tangled heap on the floor – never having made it to the bed but too busy trying to catch their breath to move – she rested her head on his shoulder with a content sigh.

"We should have done that years ago." she declared. "It's a much more satisfying way to resolve arguments than slamming doors."

He could only agree.

It was a good thing they argued so often.