Prompt : I need to prompt something today. Can you write a funny piece where Haymitch actually appears somewhere in his pjs without shoes and Effie is SHOCKED? But at least his pjs are cute. :D
Only Woody would show up at a premiere in pajamas XD Allonsysilvertongue wrote a similar one-shot taking place during Games time so be sure to check it out if you haven't already!
Pajamasgate
"Where is he?" Effie muttered under her breath, eyeing the glass door of the hotel entrance with growing concerns.
"He will be here." Peeta promised. "I hid three alarm clocks in his room. He will get out of bed at some point."
"I should have stayed behind." she sighed. "I should have…"
"You're not his escort anymore, Effie." the young man reminded her gently. "He's a grown man, he should start acting like it."
That was placing a lot of confidence on Haymitch Abernathy, she mused. The government was going big for the fifth anniversary of the rebellion. There were a series of official events they had all been requested to attend and they had all traveled from Twelve to the Capitol except Katniss who was neither welcomed nor keen to the idea of coming back to the city and had been joined at home by Annie and Johanna. Katniss would have her own series of events in Twelve – something Effie dreaded because she wouldn't be there to supervise and Johanna had a terrible influence on the young woman – but the rest of them were sentenced to go back to playing the game for the cameras : parties, red carpets, interviews…
They had been in the Capitol for about two days and that particular day would be a busy one. It had started that morning with a talk-show with Peeta as the guest of honor, Effie had gone with him, leaving Haymitch to fend for himself with strict instructions not to be late at the press conference. Obviously, she should have known better. The press conference would be followed by a photoshoot and then, after a brief pause to change clothes and regroup, a red carpet and a party at the Presidential Mansion. They were on a strict schedule, there was no time for Haymitch to pull one of his usual stunts.
Plutarch was already there in a superb bright blue suit, chatting with Cressida and Gale who had both also been more or less forced to attend the event since they had been part of the star squad. Gale and Peeta were keeping at different ends of the room at all time. Effie nervously smoothed invisible crinkled on her pale pink dress before checking Peeta's suit one last time. It was elegant but sober, different from Gale's chic but casual style – she didn't know who had been in charge of dressing Gale, Plutarch had probably seen to that – but it suited the young man best. Haymitch was supposed to wear something similar to what she always chose for him when it came to public appearances : a suit with a waistcoat and a tie he would never bother to wear. She had absolutely no hope of him wearing it when he would finally arrive but she would forgive that, she decided, if only he would be on time.
After a few more minutes of worrying that he would forget to show up, they finally heard the cries of the fans camping in front of the hotel doors. It was a short walk from the car to the doors but he would have to stop and answer a few questions for the journalists and humor a few fans by signing papers and taking pictures – he better do as she had ordered anyway.
"See?" Peeta grinned. "Told you he could take care of himself for once."
"I do hope he put on the right suit." she sighed. She had left it hanging on the open wardrobe door with a note that said wear this. It couldn't be clearer. But with Haymitch, you simply never knew. It would be just like him to wear mismatched clothes.
The doors opened in readiness to let him through and she caught her first glimpse of him, still closer to the car than to the hotel, talking to a journalist with his public smile on his lips.
She gasped and clutched at her chest. Her reaction was so drastic, Peeta immediately steadied her by grabbing her elbow.
"Please, don't have a heart attack…" Peeta begged. "Don't have a heart attack or I will kill him… Effie, you need to breathe."
Breathing wasn't something she was in any state to do.
"Peeta, dear, what is he wearing?" she asked in a trembling voice.
Peeta took a long time to answer, he dragged her away from the open doors and closer to a quiet corner, then he delivered the news as tactfully as possible. "His pajamas."
She closed her eyes in utter mortification.
"They were the same pajamas he slept in for the past three nights, aren't they?" she insisted.
The young man winced. "Well, you're the one sleeping with him… I don't check what he wears to bed…"
She didn't need Peeta's confirmation, she was certain : a long sleeve grey shirt, blue pants with crisscrossing lines that were a size too big – she always chose a size too big when ordering sleeping clothes for him because he liked it better – and… Was he even wearing shoes? She could have sworn she had seen those horrible grey socks with tiny patterns Katniss had bought him. She knew for a fact it was the same outfit he had wore for the last three nights because she had borrowed the shirt two nights earlier.
"I am going to kill him." she growled.
"If you can kill him in five minutes…" Peeta joked, checking his watch, just as Haymitch finally entered the lobby. "I will leave you to it."
Plutarch, at least, looked as flabbergasted as Effie was. Gale and Cressida simply looked amused and quickly followed Peeta in the direction of the conference room. The ex-Gamemaker didn't have time to actually comment on the outfit because Effie was swooping down on the victor and Plutarch judged it wiser to retreat after the others.
Haymitch had the audacity to smirk like he was pleased with himself.
"I'm on time, sweetheart." he announced proudly.
"Is this a joke?" she hissed. "Are you drunk?"
His satisfied expression disappeared quickly.
"You know I'm not." he grumbled. "You hid the bloody liquor. What's wrong now? I'm here, I'm on time…"
"You aren't dressed." she shrieked.
He rolled his eyes. "You need glasses. I'm not naked, am I? Although that can be helped if…"
"Why would you do this to me?" she cut him off, folding her arms over her chest. "You did a lot of things over the years but… We are not mentor and escort anymore, this is not… Why would you do this today? You know what they're going to ask at the press conference, we've been over this, Haymitch. Why did you have to pull something like that today?" She shook her head and looked away, feeling her eyes burning with tears of frustration. "Did you want to humiliate me? Is that the aim? Well, congratulations. You succeeded."
He tilted her chin up and studied her with a frown. "What are you on about, now? Look, if you're mad because of the outfit…"
"This is not an outfit. This is a crime against fashion." she interrupted coldly. "And this is your way of making me feel shallow because, yes, I still care about maintaining a proper public image."
"You're so self-centered." he scoffed. "I was late, alright? I knew you would scream like a banshee if I missed the press conference so I thought : better here and underdressed than not here at all. Besides, who cares, sweetheart?"
"I do. You are not even wearing shoes, for goodness' sake!" she snapped. "Have you thought about me at all? How that reflects on me?"
His face closed. "You said it, you're not an escort anymore. I'm not your responsibility. Nobody will…"
"I'm not your escort but I am your…" She stopped herself and shook her head again, resisting the urge to rub her face not to smudge her make-up. "Someone in that room will ask if we are living together – something they already know the answer to – and they will ask us to clarify our relationship and what am I supposed to say then? That I am dating the guy wearing pajamas in public?"
He had, at least, the decency to wince but whatever guilt he might have felt didn't last long.
"Okay, first, we're not dating. We're not sixteen, Princess." he scowled. "Second, I still don't think we should confirm anything. Let them speculate and…"
"They've been speculating for five years. I am tired of eluding the question." she retorted. "We talked about this.."
"You talked." he grumbled.
"And you showed up in pajamas." she retorted. "Was that an attempt at making me so angry I would forget any idea of confirming that we are, in fact, a couple? If so, perhaps I should grant your wish. Perhaps I should just announce I am moving back to the Capitol." She was a little too aware that hotel employees were lurking in the lobby, no doubt staring at the man who wore pajamas outside of his bedroom and sensing unfolding drama. "I am sure I can find a way to spin it into a believable tale. After all, the children are all grown up and are doing well. They do not need me anymore. And you are clearly ashamed of me."
She was so furious she turned on her heels and headed straight for the press conference room. They were both late now and they had probably started without them which meant they would do a spectacular entrance – how could they not when Haymitch wasn't dressed?
She had her hand on the closed mahogany doors when she felt his fingers coil around her arm. It was firm enough to stop her but not strong enough to hurt.
"That's got nothing to do with shame." he growled, tugging on her arm until she looked at him. "Don't be stupid, sweetheart. If anyone's ashamed of the other…"
"You are wearing pajamas, do not accuse me of being shallow on this matter, I warn you." she hissed. "I have every right to be upset."
"Yeah, well, don't be upset over the wrong thing, that's what I'm saying." he insisted, his grey eyes boring into hers. "Look, sweetheart, I just… I hate the idea of us being out there. It's going to be a media circus, you know it will."And you will love it, was the implied accusation. "It's got nothing to do with me being ashamed of you." She pursed her lips and turned her head but he cupped her cheek – she should have stopped him because he would ruin her make-up. "Effie… It's got nothing to do with that. I still don't understand why you chose to stay most days."
"Me neither, truth be told." she sniffed. "All the more so when you do things like this."
His lips twitched with amusement. "Not the worse I've done."
He softened the joke by brushing his thumb along her cheekbone – no doubt smudging the powder.
"Don't sound so proud of yourself." she chided him.
"Well, I'm fucking proud myself for snatching you, so…" he shrugged, dismissing it as if it was nothing, as if he wasn't always so greedy with compliments or verbal assurances that he, in fact, loved her.
Stupid man.
"I am still angry." she warned.
He rolled his eyes. "What's new?"
He leaned in to kiss her and she let him, the corridor was empty after all. He used the hand cupping her cheek to tilt her head, deepening the kiss and she instinctively grabbed his arm, feeling the soft fabric of the well loved shirt under her fingers. She loved that shirt, that was the worst thing.
Of course, that was the moment the doors to the conference room burst open to reveal Plutarch, and even though they quickly stepped apart, it wasn't quick enough to avoid the flashes of a hundred cameras.
"Sorry." the ex-Gamemaker stammered. "We were waiting for you to begin."
At least, Effie thought, nobody would be talking about the pajamas now.