Prompt: Can you write something where Haymitch and Effie go shopping? She has to force him to try things on because he lost / gained weight and now she doesn't any longer know what to order for him? And maybe things get a little bit hot in the dressing room when he tries everything on? Could that work ? *_*

Of Shopping And Chopping

"I hate you." he mumbled.

"Tell me something I don't know." she deadpanned, holding out a grey shirt and a blue one at arm length. Outside, there were numerous flashes and knocking on the window shop and he was suddenly very glad she had requested the shop to be closed when they would visit. Not that he understood what the frenzy about the Quell victor going shopping for shirts and suits was about but Capitols did like their clothes.

"I hate this place." he insisted.

"I said something I don't know." she snorted. "The blue one will do better I think."

She handed it to the shop girl who had been trailing after her like a dutiful puppy ever since they had stepped foot in the shop – a very prestigious shop, she had claimed, whose owner had welcomed him in person, had shaken his hand in front of all the cameras and had forced Haymitch to pose for so many pictures that his lips were hurting from all the fake smiling. He had also had to declare it was his favorite shop and that he would wear nothing else that year. And all that because the guy was wealthy and would sponsor them in exchange for the free advertising.

"Stop scowling." she ordered, picking up a red shirt. "Do try to look like you are enjoying yourself. Really, Haymitch, it is not so terrible. I would gladly do some shopping if I were paid to do it."

"No kidding, sweetheart." he scoffed.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side.

He flashed her an absolutely fake, absolutely over the top smile.

She rolled her eyes, browsed another rack and picked up another shirt. When she tried to bring him closer to his face, he pushed her hand away.

"No red." he declared.

"It is not red, it is burgundy." she retorted. "Are you color blind?"

"You are asking me if I'm color blind?" he scoffed, still fighting to prevent her from bringing that monstrosity closer, a little too aware that the press and the fans outside were having a blast with the whole thing. "You're wearing orange and green!"

That dress was hideous and the puffy orange cloud of synthetic hair on her head wasn't much better.

"Uncultured swine!" she accused just as he succeeded in pushing her arm away. Unfortunately, he had miscalculated and her ankle twisted. If he hadn't caught her, she would have collapsed on the rack of clothes. He grabbed her around the waist and managed to hold her back by clutching her to his chest. She glared at him. "I am going to kill you."

"I think you mean thank you, Haymitch." he smirked, nodding to the crowd watching them outside. "What do you say we give them something to talk about?" His hand slid down her lower back but she shoved him away before he could grope her.

"I think it is quite enough, we have a good selection." she declared, waving the shop girl to the dressing rooms. "Wipe that smug look from your face, Haymitch, I am not at all oblivious to your tactics."

Oblivious or not, she was flustered and he had won, they were done picking clothes.

"Why do I need to try them on?" he complained anyway. "You know my size, you're always ordering for me."

"Because you put on some weight." she replied. "That is what tends to happen when you drink like you do and don't exercise. And, no, before you ask that pouch of fat around your waist is not cute or adorable or whatever nonsense your female fans come up with."

He blinked, not expecting that sort of attack, which allowed her to push him in one of the dressing rooms. They were located at the back of the shop so, at least, no more cameras or people staring at him like an animal in a cage. She shooed the girl away and stepped inside the room with him, her arms full of clothes. She hung them on a nail and closed the curtain behind him.

"Strip." she demanded.

Usually, he would have come up with an innuendo but he was annoyed and so he simply grabbed the pair of pants she handed him. He was even more annoyed when he realized they didn't fit. Neither did the next two even though he held his breath and pulled his stomach in. He was glowering by the time they tried on the shirts. They were tight but at least he could button them.

"Oh, would you stop sulking." she chided him. "This particular brand cut is always small."

"You're not helping." he grumbled, snatching the blue shirt from her hand and slipping it on. He failed to button it, his shoulders were too broad. With rising irritation, he took it off, balled it up and tossed it in a corner of the dressing room. "Give me the grey one."

"Don't be so tense." she said. "It doesn't matter, I will go fetch larger ones."

"You do that." he snapped, pulling on the grey shirt and turning his back on her. It had the great disadvantage of forcing him to look at his reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror. Something he never did at home. He had put on some weight, there was no denying it. He wasn't fat certainly but he wasn't lean either. He used to have abs when he was younger, he used to have a torso that had made more than one Capitol girl faint and now... Now he was a thirty-eight year old man whose sole daily exercise was to drag himself from the bedroom to the couch. There were no muscles to speak of and, yes, she was right, there were signs of the unmistakably beginning of a beer belly.

He wasn't a vain man – or, at least, he didn't think he was – but he had always been a charmer and heads had often turned on his wake and now...

"Did I hurt your feelings?" Effie frowned. Instead of leaving to pick up the promised larger models, she stepped closer and peeled the shirt off his shoulders. She pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, no doubt leaving a green lipstick stain on his skin. He bristled but didn't otherwise protest because her hands were running down his arms and stopped to toy with the waistband of his boxers. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But it had to be said, you know, for you own good."

She eased the boxers an inch down and he grabbed her wrists.

"What are you doing?" he grumbled.

"What does it looks like?" she answered, delicately capturing his earlobe between her teeth. "I am apologizing." She tugged her wrist free and slid her hand inside his boxers. "The way you prefer." She pressed a kiss on his neck and another on his shoulder. "We never had sex in front of a mirror. That could be interesting..."

"We're not having sex." he countered, forcing her hand out of his underwear before she could coax him into full hardness.

She blinked, clearly not expecting that and pursed her lips, shooting a look at the curtain behind her. "The shop girl won't come back unless I call her. Nobody will know."

"Nothing to do with that." he spat, even though semi-public sex wasn't exactly his cup of tea. They had their share of quick tumbles in back alleys or locked rooms at parties but even if it added a thrill he liked it better when he didn't have to worry about someone walking on them.

"What is it then?" she frowned.

"Look, you don't have to pretend you're attracted to me if you're not." he scowled. "You owe me nothing. You want to stop, we stop."

Her face morphed from puzzled to confused. "Where is this coming from? Is it because of what I said? Haymitch, I..."

"And, yeah, I think it's shallow 'cause if you were chubbier I wouldn't complain but, hey, newsflash, you are a shallow person." he sneered, tugging his boxers up and making sure everything was in its proper place. He used to never wear underwear before she started as an escort and started taking care of his wardrobe. She was the one who had insisted on boxers and now he didn't know how he had lived without everything being... contained. He blamed her for a lot of things and him getting used to his junks not hanging freely was one of them. Wasn't it a perfect metaphor for the way she had him by the balls, he mused.

It used to be all about fucking her... How had he ended up caring about her opinion?

"I simply said you had put on some weight – which is true." she argued, stepping back to give him some space. "I never said I wasn't attracted to you anymore." She folded her arms over her chest. "And be honest, if it was the other way around, you would have stopped having sex with me. I am expected to be perfect all the time but I can't complain when you let yourself go?"

He stared at her in the mirror, lifting his eyebrows. "You're far from perfect."

"That's because you insist on making me take off my make-up and my wigs." she hissed. "I am otherwise perfect, thank you very much. Ask any men out there."

"I don't like fucking clowns." He rolled his eyes. "Wigs and make-up or not, you're not perfect, sweetheart. You're more bones than anything. A man likes some curves, you know. And Chaff's not wrong, you don't have much cleavage."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you in a habit of discussing my body with your oaf of a friend?"

"It comes up, yeah." Haymitch snorted. "He likes your ass." He shrugged. "Point is, you're not perfect."

"You never complained before." she said, suddenly averting her eyes, her voice growing insecure. "You said I was beautiful. You said..."

He had the indistinct feeling he had dug himself a hole and was now trapped in it.

"You are." he mumbled. "That doesn't mean you're perfect. What's perfect anyway?"

"Beauty." she answered at once.

"And who gets to decide who's perfect and who's not?" he mocked. "That's stupid thinking, sweetheart. Perfect's overrated anyway. You can have any pretty boy out there, why do you bother with me? Can't say I'm perfect, fat or not, can you?"

She pursed her lips and stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. "I didn't say fat. I said you can't drink like you do without some sort of sportive activity and not expect to put on some weight. This is not healthy and no, I won't lie, I do not like it. I apologize if you think this is shallow of me but... I do think you should at least try to chop some wood now and then. You used to do that before, didn't you?" Her hands roamed to his shoulders and his arms. "When we started this you were strong as an ox."

"I'm still strong, thank you." he scoffed. He could have argued than when they had started this her breasts had been perkier but he had a feeling this would bring more trouble than anything else. "And I can think of a sportive activity right now."

"You didn't want to five minutes ago." she pointed out.

"It was five minutes ago." he smirked. "Changed my mind. This mirror idea has potential."

She shook her head and stepped back. "They will start to wonder what happened to us. No time for this I'm afraid."

"Tease." he accused.

"There is always the car ride." she grinned. "If I can help you burn out some of this fat..."

He glared at her but she laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips before sauntering away to find the proper sizes.

His lips were now green, as was his earlobe and various spot on his neck and shoulders. He pulled his stomach in and decided he would, indeed, go back to chopping wood.