Prompt : Tipsy Effie and Portia flirting in front of an amused Cinna and a very jealous Haymitch

You get another short cracky one today

A Little Jealousy Goes A Long Way

"I could die of jealousy over your legs." Portia declared very seriously, leaning against the couch and watching Effie with a critical eye. "And your ass… Your ass is a masterpiece."

"You're drunk." Haymitch accused.

Portia burst out laughing, throwing her head back.

"Of course, I'm drunk, Haymitch!" the stylist replied, toasting him with her pinkish cocktail. "Why, in Panem, wouldn't I be? Everything is much prettier when you are drunk, wouldn't you agree?"

Cinna shook his head with fondness and simply shrugged when Haymitch glanced at him. The scene was now familiar, the four of them were sharing a drink most nights after the children had gone to bed. Although sometimes, days like today, Victory Tour was particularly awful and they shared more than one drink.

"You're preaching to the choir, sweetheart." he snorted, taking a sip of his own whiskey. He was pacing himself, enjoying the buzz of the alcohol, vaguely planning on invading his escort's bedroom later that night and knowing she wouldn't let him if he was wasted.

Next to him on the couch, Effie let out an annoyed groan. At first he thought it was because of his open love declaration for liquor but then her hand fell not so discreetly on his thigh and he figured it was the sweetheart that had bothered her. She was becoming weirdly possessive lately. He shot her a warning look but she either didn't notice or elected to ignore it.

She had her share of pink cocktail too.

"You are not prettier even when I can't see straight." he chuckled, nodding at her. "You look like a clown."

"You look like a hobo." Effie retorted with a sniff.

And yet her hand remained where it was on his thigh.

"Don't listen to him. Haymitch wouldn't know beauty if it hit him straight in the face." Portia scoffed, waving her hand around to dismiss his words. "You know, if it weren't for Cinna I would have made a pass at you ages ago…"

"Hey, don't put that on me!" Cinna protested, leaning back on his armchair with raised eyebrows, an amused smile on his lips. "As long as I can watch…"

"Why, Cinna…" Effie grinned that wicked grin that always made Haymitch's stomach jolt. "You could even join."

The conversation had turned surreal. Haymitch gulped down half his glass in irritation and found himself covering the hand on his thigh with his own – he didn't even know why he did it and yet his hand was on hers and he squeezed her fingers not so gently.

She shot him a mild-glare, looking almost confused. "You are crushing my hand. Please, stop."

"Oh, oh…" Portia sing-sang. "Haymitch is jealous. You could play too, you know… The more the merrier."

"You're all drunk." he decided, finishing his whiskey in another long mouthful. "Time for bed."

"But which one?" Portia asked innocently. "Ours or yours?"

"I don't share, sweetheart." Haymitch rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'll leave you to your orgy."

Portia and Effie laughed as if it was the funniest joke ever – which it really wasn't – but Cinna looked a little embarrassed.

"Come on, Haymitch, it was just a joke…" the stylist tried but he ignored him, he let the doors slide shut behind him and headed to his room. Capitols might be very open in this area but he wasn't and he had no desire to… explore.

He wished he had had the foresight of grabbing another bottle for the night. He had a secret stock though – hidden from his escort's eyes, that went without saying – and he figured it would be enough to help him fall asleep.

His hand had barely closed around the handle of his door when he heard the hurried clicking of heels. Arms wrapped around his torso and he sneered. "Over already? They're quick. Was it good, Trinket?"

She pressed her face between his shoulder blades with a soft sigh. "We were just joking around."

"Were you?" he scoffed, pushing the handle down and stepping inside. She followed him, her arms still locked around his torso. "So you don't think Portia's hot then?"

"Well… She is. And if we were both single…" she replied.

Wrong answer.

He turned around and pinned her to the closed door, letting his mouth hover right over hers.

"Yeah?" he challenged.

She licked her lips nervously. She was tipsy, not drunk but tipsy, and she wasn't at her sharpest when she had downed so many glasses.

"I don't want her." she whispered.

"Better." Haymitch granted. "And Cinna? 'Cause you did invite him to jump in."

"I was just joking." she frowned. "Why does it bother you so?"

"Because…" he started and then stopped. Because you're mine was what he wanted to say but it was a loaded statement and in the end he kissed her, almost too violently for it to be pleasant.

She took it in stride though, burying her fingers in his hair and tugging aggressively until he grasped what she wanted and lifted her up. He fumbled with her underwear, not in the mood to bother getting her undressed and she bit down on his earlobe hard enough for him to hiss in pain.

"I love it when you are jealous." she confessed in his ear. "It turns me on."

"I'm not jealous." he grumbled.

"Of course not, dear." she mocked, so clearly humoring her he took great pleasure in rendering her speechless.

There were days when he truly hated her.