Prompt : You wrote this one piece where Haymitch is so drunk that he steals her wig. Could you write a similar one where he uses her make-up and she freaks out? And she has to help him to remove it afterwards? Yay !
It's a bit of a crack prompt I'm afraid. Enjoy!
Puppy
"She's going to kill you." Finnick guffawed, flopping down on the bed.
Haymitch shot the boy a mild glare but couldn't quite deny the fact. He clumsily picked up the many tubes of lipsticks Chaff had just knocked off Effie's dressing table.
"She loves her shit." Chaff snorted, plucking one of the numerous bottle of perfume and sniffing its contents warily before putting it down to grab something else.
Haymitch dropped the lipstick tubes on the table, too drunk to even remember why they had thought it a good idea to wander to his escort's room in the first place. He, Chaff and Finnick had escaped the party raging below and they had done their own share of partying in the penthouse living-room. Everything had become quite blurry after the second bottle they had finished. Even Finnick who usually stopped before getting hammered was wasted.
"She's not going to kill me." Haymitch grumbled, toying with one of the lipstick tubes. Chaff snatched it from his hand, almost losing his balance in the process.
"Purple." Eleven's mentor scoffed. "Those people are crazy." He opened different tubes without bothering to close them but Haymitch was too busy grabbing the edge of the table to steady himself to care. "Yellow. Blue. Orange. Red. Does she have all the colors of the rainbow? Fucking green…"
Haymitch looked up, startled and saved the lipstick before Chaff could carelessly toss it aside. Most of them had crashed on the dressing table or on the floor and the shafts were either broken or crushed. "Not this one!" He carefully put the lid back on it, and placed it aside.
"What's special about this one?" Chaff snorted.
"Makes lips smooth." he mumbled before he could think twice about it. His brain was telling him to shut up but his mouth was running away.
"Oooh…" Finnick laughed, rolling on his side and propping his head on his hand. "How do you know?" Four's golden boy wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Do you like it when Effie's lips are smooth?"
"Shut up." he retorted, not so eloquently.
"Where do you like those smooth lips, Haymitch?" Chaff teased, his bark of laugh echoing in the room. "Does she go down on you or is that too improper? Nah, I bet she never gave a guy a blow job in her life…"
"You think?" Finnick asked thoughtfully. "I think she's kinky."
"How would you know?" Haymitch growled, turning to face the young man who looked entirely too much at ease lounging on her bed. The insolent boy wriggled his eyebrows again.
"Calm down, man…" Eleven's victor mocked, his stump patting his arm. "The kid's having you on." His free hand distractedly grabbed at a case full of those glaring eyeshadow powders she used on her eyes and struggled to open the plastic lid. "So? Is that stick in her ass an act or what?"
"I don't know. Ain't screwing her, am I?" he mumbled, having enough presence of mind to deny knowing anything about that.
Chaff rolled his eyes but it was Finnick who started laughing again.
Annoyed at his friends, Haymitch bristled.
"You do know you can keep saying you're not fucking her all you want, we do know you're fucking her, right?" Eleven's victor taunted. "Even when we're drunk, you're not convincing. I'm wasted right now and you're not convincing."
Fortunately or not, it was the moment he chose to accidentally drop the case with the eyeshadows. It exploded on impact. The carpet was covered with pieces of plastic, littered with small brushes and stained with various shades of powder.
"Oh, now you're dead men walking." Finnick whined, sitting up to better stare at the mess.
"I'm not scared of Trinket." Chaff rolled his eyes.
"Then you're stupid." Four's victor argued. "'Cause she's scary. Very, very scary." Liquor seemed to catch up with him and a faraway look took over the apprehension. "Though, that's hot when she's all threatening…"
"You need to get over that crush of yours, boy." Haymitch sneered.
"Don't be jealous, Haymitch." Finnick snickered. "She will kill you and Chaff and I will have her all to myself. See? It all works out."
"And we'll know if she's willing to get down on her knees or not…" Eleven's mentor nodded slowly, as if it was a perfectly sound argument. "'Cause unlike you, Finnick will say. Maybe when her mouth's busy elsewhere she's not so bad…"
"Stop it." Haymitch warned. Drunk or not, there was a line and he wouldn't let his friends cross it. He didn't like other men wondering what Effie looked like when she… "And she's not gonna kill me. She can't. I'm her boss."
That caused Chaff and Finnick to burst out laughing as if he had just delivered the killer joke to end all jokes.
"You're not her boss." Eleven's victor chortled.
"Mentor tramples escort." he argued, pointing an accusing finger at Chaff's chest. "I'm her boss."
"You're not her boss, you're her puppy and she's trying really hard to train you." Chaff scoffed, a little mean in Haymitch's opinion. "She told you to leave the party 'cause you were too drunk and you just went ahead and left the party." He shook her head. "Not her boss. Trained puppy."
"I'm no one's puppy!" he countered with irritation, trying to shove Chaff and only succeeding in almost tripping over his own feet.
"I would be her puppy." Finnick sighed. "She's sexy."
"Shut up about her already!" he snapped. "Fine. You want to go back to the party? We're going back to the party. She's not the boss. I am." His eyes fell on the mess of powder. "But we're going in style…"
"Oh, no." Finnick replied immediately. "No, no, no. Bad idea. Very bad."
It was a little funny how the Capitol's darling lost his vocabulary when completely wasted. Chaff thought the idea was brilliant though and once he had stamp Finnick's face with a huge brush full of white powder, it was too late for the boy to get out of it.
Admittedly, Haymitch knew it was a bad idea.
He was drunk not stupid.
He knew Effie was going to kill them.
Yet it was still very fun.
They cackled, snickered, laughed and clapped themselves on the back all the way down to the party. It was still raging but they made quite an entrance because Chaff accidentally knocked into an Avox, sending the tray he was carrying flying in the air. Heads turned, some people laughed, there were flashes and cameras suddenly pointed at them.
Haymitch decided it was because by Capitol standard they were now dashing. There was a respectable coat of white powder on his face, glaring green eyeshadow on his eyelids – all that he could scoop from her carpet anyway – two blotches of red on his cheek – they hadn't found powder so they had used smudged lipstick – and he had used the green lipstick on his mouth so it would be smooth to kiss like Effie's lips always were. And they had used some of the eye powder thing to plaster on his stubble so it would look blue.
Chaff looked like an exotic bird. Haymitch had spread so many colors on his face it looked like a rainbow had vomited on him and Finnick – who had insisted on doing his own make-up like the drama queen he was – was now casted in shades of gold and silver.
Two similar gasps of horror were audible over the whispers.
Haymitch couldn't tell who reached them quicker : Effie or Viola? But both were just as adamant at pushing them back out of the room.
"But I want a drink!" Haymitch argued, trying to brush his escort out of his way.
"You've had enough." Effie hissed. "And you are a dead man."
"What were you thinking?" Viola snapped, trying and failing to drag Chaff into the corridor without causing more of a scene than they already were. "Oh, you've pulled your share of stunts but this one… This one…"
Haymitch noticed Finnick sneaking away but he kept silent, figuring at least one of them would survive the night.
"You get out of my way or you won't like it." Chaff growled at his escort.
"There is no need for that attitude." Seeder seemed to have appeared out of nowhere but she had her I mean business face and Haymitch knew better than to keep pushing. "I think you had enough, boys. Let's get you to bed."
Chaff flashed them a leering grin. "That's an offer? 'Cause the two of you in my bed, now, that's a thought…"
Viola huffed, looking absolutely disgusted at the idea which made Haymitch snicker until Effie whacked his arm.
"Out." she ordered, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Now."
That was how their glorious crashing of the party ended : with them barely taking three steps into the room before being marched back to the elevator by two livid escorts and a very annoyed fellow mentor.
Effie was the one who pushed the button and she did it glaring at him all the while. Haymitch glared right back.
"Really." Viola scoffed. "If you wanted to finally look presentable, you should have said something. I would have called someone from our prep team. Why did you have to go and use cheap make-up? How humiliating. They will think it's mine."
"It does not look like cheap make-up." Effie observed. "It looks like…" Her eyes widened and she actually grabbed Seeder to steady herself. "Did you use my make-up?"
She looked positively murderous.
"Cheap make-up." Viola triumphed, inspecting her blue painted nails.
"'T was Haymitch's idea, love." Chaff slurred very quickly.
"So much for not being scared of her." Haymitch grumbled.
"You two really should stop talking now." Seeder sighed, pushing them not so gently in the elevator.
"I do wish you would find better friends." Viola insisted. "Twelve is a poor District with no manners and is represented by poor people with no manners."
"You are lucky I do have manners." Effie retorted. "Do not try me tonight, Viola, my manners could slip."
"No doubt." Eleven's escort mocked. "I would say it's all those years of exposure to your victor that make you so unpleasant but I know better."
Effie actually took a threatening step towards Viola and without Seeder who swiftly placed herself between them, Haymitch wondered how that would have turned out. He had been waiting for the day Effie would punch the woman for years. Viola stared at Effie with a taunting expression, certain perhaps that Seeder would keep her safe just like Haymitch would have kept Effie safe – Viola and Chaff had a poor relationship but as far as he knew Viola and Seeder were on friendly enough terms – but still, Eleven's escort looked relieved when the elevator reached their floor.
Chaff bumped shoulders with him as he stepped out.
"Good luck getting those smooth lips of hers down there." Eleven's victor chortled.
Haymitch cringed, mostly because Effie's glare was both furious and hurt.
"What was that supposed to mean?" she hissed as soon as the doors were closed.
Haymitch opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and finally opted to listen to his liquor soaked brain when it told him the best defense was silence. He shrugged.
"Are you discussing our sexual encounters with your friends?" she insisted and she sounded mortified.
"No." he replied at once, defensive. "I don't, I wouldn't. Give me some credits, sweetheart."
It seemed a good idea to his drunk self to reach for her. She looked upset and Chaff had put things in his head now. It really wasn't that good of an idea. She slapped his hands away.
"Then what was he talking about?" she growled.
"Just…" he stammered, annoyed to find he was embarrassed. "Men talk." She frowned and he figured that wasn't good enough of an explanation. "Chaff joked about you being too proper to blow me and Finnick said you were kinky and they had a debate about it."
The elevator chimed to let them know they had arrived but neither of them stepped out.
She closed her eyes, her lips pursed tight. "So you did talk about us, about me with your friends."
She folded her arms over her chest and he didn't like that, she suddenly looked vulnerable, almost fragile. Effie Trinket was neither vulnerable nor fragile. She was a hurricane.
"No." he repeated and then amended. "Well, yeah, but not like… I didn't say anything." He shook his head feeling like he was doing a poor job at explaining himself and not certain why he should explain himself in the first place. "Look, they talk about you 'cause you're hot, alright? And I don't like it when they talk about you like that but what can I do? It's not like I can tell them to fuck off 'cause you're mine 'cause you're not so… I just let them talk. And they wonder things and I just… say nothing." He rubbed his face. "I didn't tell them about anything we did, I swear, sweetheart. That's ours."
It was as close to acknowledging they had a thing to begin with as they had ever come.
She studied him for a few seconds and then gave a brief nod. "Alright, I believe you."
She exited the elevator and he followed, trying hard not to think back about the trained puppy comment. He reached for her but she avoided him again. "Effie…"
"Oh, no." she snapped. "I may believe you about that but I am still angry about the rest. Now, go to bed, sleep on the couch or pass out in the hall for all I care, but leave this penthouse again and I swear I will water down all the liquor in the Center."
She stormed away and he was left to stare after her, irritated and angry at the way she always scolded him like a small child.
He stumbled to his bedroom, accidentally bumping into a table on his way. A vase fell and shattered. She didn't peered out of her room and it annoyed him even more because he could have had a serious accident. Didn't she care?
He intended to flop on his bed and maybe drink some more until he actually passed out but the thing on his face was starting to itch so he headed into the bathroom first. He tried everything to get the make-up off, even rubbing his skin raw with a cloth, but he only managed to smudge it.
He deliberated for a long long time – so long that the liquor was a low buzz at the back of his head by the time he actually reached his decision. He walked to her room with the proverbial tail between his legs, ready to grovel if that meant taking this awful stuff off his face.
The door was open and she was trying to salvage what she could of her ruined make-up products. He figured she would leave the stains on the carpet for the Avoxes to clean up. He felt a little guilty when he realized the bin was full of her broken belongings.
"What do you want?" she asked without glancing at him.
"I'll pay you back." he grumbled reluctantly.
"That goes without saying." she retorted without missing a beat.
He stepped inside and waited but she didn't acknowledge him. She was so angry her fingers were shaking.
"It was Chaff who…" he tried to defend himself but this time she shot him a glare and he fell silent.
"Please." she snapped, her voice rising in volume and in pitch which each new word until she was shouting. "You are not five to point fingers at your friends when you find yourself in trouble. Step up for yourself. I know better than to expect an apology but really… Really this time you surpassed yourself. You humiliated Twelve, you humiliated me, and not only that but you destroyed half my make-up in the process… Truly, I should be clapping. I thought we had reached a level impossible to top when you fell in the fountain hall naked but it turns out I might have been wrong after all. Congratulations."
He was torn between rightful indignation and more groveling. In the end he opted for brooding. "Help me get that crap off my face and I'll make it up to you, sweetheart."
"Yes? How exactly?" she huffed.
"Well, you're not the only one with smooth lips that can go down there…" He wriggled his eyebrows. His lips weren't smooth and anything he tried to do in the state he was in would no doubt be sloppy but he would do it if that meant she would stop shrieking like a banshee.
"It is typical of men to think offering sex will solve everything." she scorned. "Oh, and for the love of everything holy, Haymitch, stop staring at me, you look like a clown!"
"That's what I've been telling you for years." he muttered, hopefully too low for her to hear.
She narrowed her eyes at him and nodded at the bed. "Sit."
"I'm not your puppy!" he retorted but sat nonetheless while she disappeared in the bathroom. She came back with an assortment of bottled lotions and round cotton balls.
"What is this new absurdity, now?" she wondered, a tad ironically he thought.
"Chaff said I was your puppy." he sulked.
"Chaff says a lot of nonsense." she remarked. "Do I owe this childish display to that ridiculous comment?"
He fidgeted, flinching when she rubbed a cold thing on his eyes, but let her work. Anything to be freed of that make-up.
"I told him I'm the boss. He didn't believe me." he complained.
"That would be because you are not, in fact, the boss." she snorted.
"Mentor tops escort." he insisted. Why did everyone seem to have forgotten how the Games work all of a sudden?
"Technically, yes." she answered. "But that implies that the mentor actually does his job. When we are concern, I am the one doing everything so I am very afraid Chaff is right. The only place you will ever top me is in the bedroom."
"Bullshit." he growled.
"Oh, so I do get to top in the bedroom from now on?" she deadpanned. "How refreshing. Your inability to let me be in charge in that area was starting to be tiring."
"You're not the boss of me." he argued. "You're not. I'm not your puppy. You don't own me. No Capitol owns me."
Her face softened if only briefly. "Of course I don't own you. I never claimed I did. I am simply stating when it comes down to it I am the one making most of the decisions because you can't be bothered to get involved past the minimum that is required of you. By that definition, I am technically the boss."
He watched her while she rubbed at the lipstick smudged on his cheeks. "Do you have to use complicated words?"
"Do you have to be so infuriating?" she shot back. "Honestly, Haymitch. What were you all doing in my bedroom in the first place? Did you snoop around? Did you let your friend snoop around? If you let Chaff look through my lingerie drawer…"
"I wouldn't." he cut her off, angry at the very thought. "I don't remember why we were here." He sighed. "I'm tired."
"You and me both." she breathed out, tossing the soiled cotton wool in the bin and fetching a wet cloth. She gripped his head and rubbed at his stubble without any gentleness. "What is that? What did you use? Eyeshadow?" He shrugged and she shook her head. "You will need to shave to get everything out."
"Thought you would like it…" he snorted.
"What was I supposed to like? You and your friend coming in my room uninvited? My possessions getting destroyed? Or you walking around looking like a child had done your make-up perhaps?" she gritted the words through her teeth. "I just love it, Haymitch. What a pleasant surprise!"
"Stop being sassy you're turning me on." he teased, patting the side of her thigh.
He got his hand slapped for his trouble.
"What was I suppose to like then?" she asked, rubbing his mouth to get all the lipstick off.
"I was looking Capitol." he shrugged. "You like that." He shrugged again. "You think Crane's beard is sexy. It's blue and ridiculous. I was blue and ridiculous." Because he felt very eloquent and his drunk brain was telling him to shut up once again, he shrugged a final time.
Her hand and the wet cloth froze on his mouth.
"Were you trying to look Capitol because you were jealous?" she frowned.
"I'm not jealous." he immediately denied, straining his neck to avoid the involuntary gag. "And Capitols are ridiculous."
She let out a deep breath and went back to rubbing his jaw.
"If I wanted a Capitol man, any Capitol man, I would step out and get them. You are not by any means like them. I am not interested in you being like them." she stated firmly. "Do we understand each other?" He thought he understood what she was trying to say so he nodded, coiling an arm around her leg. He didn't try to start anything, he just held her and, this time, she didn't slap it away. She shook her head at him with fondness. "You are such an idiot sometimes, Haymitch."
"Maybe I'm an idiot but I'm still the boss." he grumbled.
"No, you are not." she argued. She hesitated a little and then ran her fingers through his hair briefly. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't discuss what we do in private with your friends."
"Didn't say anything." he growled defensively. "You're not the only one we talk about."
"Oh, and who else do you talk about?" she asked.
There was a trap there, his drunk brain warned, but his mouth tripped right into it before he could rail it in.
"Viola… Other escorts…. Victors… Some sponsors…" he enumerated. "The hot ones even with the parrot clothes and the make-up."
She pursed her lips with obvious displeasure. "I see."
"Don't want them." he slurred, tugging on her leg a little. "Want you."
"I do hope so." she huffed. "They don't hold a candle to me."
His mouth stretched into a smirk. "Arrogant."
"Realist." she grinned back but the grin was short-lived. "I am still very crossed with you. I will deal with you when you are sober. There is no point scolding you when you are wasted, it falls on deaf ears. It is like screaming at a puppy."
"I'm no puppy." he sulked.
She looked amused now. She tossed the soiled wet cloth on a nearby chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. He looked up, a little hopeful that maybe she would let herself be convinced by his assertions that he could make it up to her.
"Perhaps I should start using that as a pet name – no pun intended." she teased. "After all, you never took note of my dislike for pet names… Perhaps I should start calling you puppy."
"Do that and you're a dead woman." he threatened, a little alarmed that she would go through with it.
"You wouldn't hurt me, darling." she taunted. "You have a lot of flaws but you are no brute. Not that kind anyway."
He tugged on her leg with enough force that she lost her balance. In the blink of an eye she was pinned on the bed by all the weight of his body and he had a hand loosely around her throat. She immediately grabbed his wrist.
"You're sure about that?" he chuckled.
"No." she said, coupling it with a tug on his wrist. It wasn't an answer to his question but a comment on the fingers gently wrapped around her throat. She had a thing about that and he sometimes forgot. She didn't mind rough, she didn't mind wild, she didn't mind him leaving bruises on her body or bruising his from their violent love-making… But a hand around her throat and she froze. He had never asked.
"Sorry." he offered, moving his hand until it was spread on her collarbone instead.
She let go of his wrist to brush her fingers against his cheek, her nails scrapping at some powder left incrusted in his stubble.
"I am very sure." she hummed. "I absolutely trust you with my body."
Not with her heart, was implied but she had the right idea about that. He didn't want her heart. That was another can of worms entirely, a dangerous one.
He leaned in for a kiss but she turned her head and pushed him off her.
"I am still furious." she stated again. "Now, go sleep that liquor off, you will regret it tomorrow, I promise you. Puppy."
He glared at her but it was mild because she pressed a brief kiss on his lips before sending him off.
Chaff had a point.
He was whipped.