I did a couple of AUs requests on tumblr yesterday so here goes!
AUs
5) one night stand and falling pregnant au
"You're being weird." Haymitch accused.
Effie startled but immediately forced a smile on her lips, banishing the wistful expression from her face. Eyes bright, chin up, smile on, she told herself. There was work to do and no time for her to wallow.
"It is nothing." she dismissed. And she fought the urge to bring her hand to her stomach almost in apology to something she had no business apologizing to. "I forgot to inform you… You will have to manage alone this afternoon and tomorrow morning. I expect nothing but perfection, Haymitch. No drunk stunts, no brawls with other victors and no scandals if you please. Just make an apparition at the events and leave as soon as it is polite to do so."
"Why?" he frowned. "Where are you going?"
"I have an appointment." she hummed distractedly, bringing her attention back to the sponsors files they had been studying – or, rather, that she had been studying while he drank and watched her work.
"An appointment that lasts a whole day?" he snorted. "New boyfriend?"
He was as mocking as he always was when he asked that particular question but there seemed to be something underneath, something more… loaded. She must be mistaken, she decided. They had fallen in bed once, it had been an accident, simply an accident, and they had never talked about it again.
"It is a medical appointment if you insist on being nosy." she snapped. She didn't know why she had said that. She had arranged for everything to be discreet – back entrances, a private room and confidentiality agreements discreet.
"Medical?" he repeated and she wondered if she imagined the touch of concern under the detachment. They had been working together for four years, they were not friends but, she supposed, they knew each other well enough that it would be concerning.
"Nothing to worry about. I will be right as rain tomorrow." she answered. Or she hoped she would be. Not that there was any choice to make or other possible outcomes. "I just need to have a mole removed."
He relaxed at once, a taunting smirk on his lips. "Ruining your perfect skin, is it? Can't have that. Effie Trinket looking less than perfect… Imagine the tragedy."
"Quite." she declared, choosing not to notice the taunting tone. "We cannot have that…"
She didn't let herself wonder what he would do if she told him. She suspected she would still be going to her appointment the next day and he would carry another burden on his shoulders. Perhaps he would insist on going with her, hold her hand, because for all her rebukes he could be a gentleman sometimes but it wasn't the worth the pain it would cause to put words on what was happening. It was better all around if she kept it to herself.
Eyes bright, chin up, smile on.
7) fake relationship au
"You've got a lot of bad ideas along the years but this one takes the cake." Haymitch snorted.
Effie elected to ignore him.
Being the most successful wedding planner of the country had its up and down – occasionally working with Haymitch Abernathy who owned half of a very thriving catering business was a down. Haymitch and his associate Peeta were the latest rage though and everyone wanted them at their wedding. Peeta was in charge of the food and the cake, Haymitch was in charge of the wine and liquor – which she found very ironical given his weakness for the stuff.
Now… The whole situation was her own fault. When she had been hired by another not so blushing but very wealthy bride, she hadn't really looked at the groom's name. Until she had realized it was Seneca Crane. Who she had almost married herself a few years earlier. Awkward. And to dispel any awkwardness on the bride's part as well as on her own, she had found nothing better to say than that she was engaged herself. And the first name that had popped into her head – because calling the catering society had been next on her to-do list not because of any attraction or occasional wet dream including him – had been Haymitch's.
Which was how she had come to this: spending the whole wedding hiding from the bride and groom after having begged Haymitch for hours to play his part.
"Hush, here they come!" she panicked when she spotted the huge white dress coming their way. She panicked. What else was there to do? "Quick! Kiss me!"
She expected resistance or at least she expected to have to do a little more convincing but he coiled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer without missing a beat.
She forgot anything about pretending.
Her brain froze.
Nothing existed but the mouth torturing her and the thumb nudging her jaw open so his tongue could gain entrance. It was rough and messy and she rubbed against him as if there weren't people watching. He groaned against her lips and drew back long enough to breathe.
She was certain they were now safe, that Seneca and his bride were long gone, and yet she chased after his lips.
Maybe they could pretend some more.
Or maybe they could just stop pretending.
8) roommates au
"This will require organization, you realize." she declared after clearing her throat. "You have a gift for making any room a mess. I refuse to live in a pigsty, Haymitch, do you understand me?"
"Don't get your knickers into a twist, sweetheart." he drawled out, sprawled on the bed he had claimed for his own. "We've been sharing a penthouse for years."
"This is not a penthouse." she hissed. "This is a compartment that could fit into my living-room. And it is abhorrent they would authorize unmarried men and women to room together. If I have to share…"
"Since you have to share, better you share with me than with a District refugee who will try to strangle you in your sleep." he cut her off, making her wonder for the hundredth time why he had even brought her to Thirteen at all.
"It is improper for a man and a woman to… to…" she stammered.
"To what?" he snorted. "I'm not going to jump on you in the middle of the night. Don't flatter yourself, Princess. Not even if you begged."
She pursed her lips and tilted her head. "Don't think I haven't seen you ogling me all those years."
"Not ogling, sweetheart, just trying to guess if you're human under your clothes." he mocked. "Guess, I'll find out. Right? Roommate."
He smirked and wriggled his eyebrows.
This was a nightmare.
10) high school popular kid/nerd au
"You're okay?" the boy asked, shaking his hand.
Effie could only nod, eyes wide, staring at the scene before her. Granted Seneca had been a little too… handsy but she could have handled that well enough by herself. She was the most popular girl in school, naturally she was dating the most popular boy and naturally Seneca thought that meant he was allowed every liberty – even pushing her against his car on the deserted parking of the cinema and groping her despite her protests, that had happened before and he had always stopped after a good healthy dose of no and stop on her part.
She had been trying to push him off her – not an easy feat when his hand was down her shirt – when the hey! had echoed in the parking lot and she had taken advantage of Seneca's momentary distraction to stomp on his feet with her heel and to put some distance between them. She hadn't been expecting to be grabbed by the arm and pushed behind a strong male body.
Haymitch Abernathy wasn't a popular person but he was known. After all, he had a motorbike and he drank beer and sometimes stronger alcohol on school property. Everybody knew there had been an accident involving his family and that he was now emancipated after having run from enough foster care families… Everybody knew he was a boy you should stay away from. He was a bad boy but not the kind that sent a thrill down your back, he was the real deal. Or so they said.
Seneca had protested, of course, and the argument had escalated and, really, she thought Haymitch had had the wrong idea about the whole thing. He had kept shouting about Seneca trying to force her when… It wasn't like that, was it? It was expected of boyfriends to try to push their luck and to grope a feel even when she said no… Mother always said that as long as she kept her legs closed, she should do everything else to catch a good husband.
It had escalated to impossible odds when Seneca had tried to make a grab for her – probably worried about Haymitch hurting her, really – when Haymitch had punched him. She had gasped. She distinctly remembered gasping at a violence she had never witnessed in her life before.
And now Seneca was wriggling on the ground, clutching his – maybe broken – nose and Haymitch was looking at her warily and she wasn't sure what she was expected to do. Run to Seneca and insult Haymitch, she thought, because Seneca belonged to her world and Haymitch did not.
"You're not going to cry or some shit, right?" Haymitch winced. "'Cause I'm not good with crying girls."
"Obviously." she huffed. "Punching people is rude. Who are you? A caveman?"
He blinked, clearly taken aback and then he sneered. "Don't say thank you, sweetheart. I just saved you from being raped in a parking lot. No big deal."
"Seneca wouldn't hurt me." she argued. And yet, she mused, she still hadn't run to kneel at his side like she ought. "He wouldn't."
Her voice was weak and Haymitch's anger seemed to abate. "You need a ride?"
She spotted the bike parked a few feet away and she tilted her head to the side, feeling somehow detached. "I have never been on one of those before."
"Well, it's your lucky day then, sweetheart." he snorted, walking to his bike, leaving her to follow. She did, without a second glance for Seneca who was whimpering her name in pain. Perhaps it would teach him.
"My name is Effie, you know." she offered.
"Oh, yeah. I know." he mocked. Of course, everyone knew her. "Here."
He handed her the helmet and she made a face. "This will ruin my hair."
"This will keep you alive." he retorted. "You want a ride, you put it on."
She did so reluctantly and she pretended she didn't shiver when he helped her fix it on by tucking her hair in. His hand lingered on her cheek and it was… electrifying.
"Where is yours?" she frowned when he climbed on the bike.
"On your head." he replied. "You're coming or what?"
She didn't know what she was embarking for when she clumsily climbed behind him on the bike but, she thought, wrapping her arms firmly around his torso, it felt a lot like freedom.
12) writer and editor au
Haymitch bolted awake with a start, on his feet before he even opened his eyes, dripping wet. He glared at the woman standing in front of him, a bored expression on her face, a hand on her hip and the other clenching an empty bottle of water.
"You are drunk again." She clicked her tongue.
"What the actual fuck?" he spat. "How did you get in?"
"Spare key." Effie offered simply, as if it was obvious.
"I didn't give you a spare key." he growled, pushing his wet hair away from his face.
"I took the liberty of borrowing it from the first drawer of your desk." she retorted. "I just knew it would come in handy. Now, Haymitch… Why didn't you answer my calls?"
"Phone's broken." he mumbled.
"Did you smash your cell again?" she sighed. "You have to stop doing that." Professional concern morphed into something more genuine but Haymitch didn't let himself linger on the implications. The whole thing was already a mess. He was dreaming about her and picturing her naked enough as it was. He blamed the sexy secretary look she was pulling off, she rocked the high-waist pencil skirt and colorful blouses. "You promised me pages."
"They're shit." he muttered.
"We will work through them." she promised cheerfully. "Now. Go take a shower and get into some clean clothes while I see to breakfast."
"There's nothing to eat." he countered.
"Fortunately for us, I anticipated that and bought some pastries on the way." she retorted. "Do as I say, Haymitch."
"Normal editors don't do that, you know." he grumbled, slipping the damp shirt over his head and tossing it in the corner of the living-room. "They email their writers." She was staring at his chest and it made him smirk. "Like what you see?"
Her blue eyes darted back up to his face and she pouted. "Normal writers don't make their editor chase after them for pages."
"Be happy there are pages at all." he scowled, walking past her to the bathroom.
He hadn't written a line in ten years before Capitol Publishing sent Effie. His editors were usually little more than babysitters but Effie… Effie had refused to take no for an answer. Effie was so infuriating and took up so much space he had found himself sitting behind his computer and typing for the first time in a decade out of sheer frustration.
Effie Trinket, he sometimes thought even though he would never voice it, was his muse.
22) two miserable people meeting at a wedding au
The smile on her lips was so forced it hurt.
She didn't know where the sadness was coming from. She was enjoying the music and she was happy for Finnick and Annie, truly she was… But suddenly the cheerful music felt like a slap in the face, she resented the people who were dancing and laughing around her because they didn't have to fake their happiness…
The smile never faded from her lips as she retreated to the background, the happy mask was fixed on her face, but inside she was horrified. She was used to feeling that numbness at parties but this was different, this was Finnick and Annie's wedding and it shouldn't make her feel so… lonely.
She spotted Haymitch sitting alone in a corner and she headed there instinctively, sitting down next to him. She didn't say a word. She kept on smiling. She kept on pretending.
She didn't need to ask why he was sitting there, glowering, instead of enjoying himself and being happy for their friends. He was craving a drink, probably.
Weddings had a gift for bringing you back to your own loneliness or so they said.
"Do you want to go back to my room?" she asked in a detached voice that contrasted with her bright smile.
"Fuck, yeah." he snorted.
She stood up and walked away from the party without waiting, knowing he would follow.
They could be alone together.
They were used to it.
23) meeting on a train ride au
"That's my seat."
Haymitch looked up lazily, already irritated by the upcoming long train ride. There was never enough room and he always ended up with cramps in his legs.
The woman was pink. Pink dress, pink coat, pink purse, pink shoes, pink flower pinned in her blonde hair… High-pitched voice, too much make-up, expensive clothes…
It had to be one of those.
"Well, then sit down, sweetheart." he mumbled, closing his eyes and slumping in his seat.
"Sweetheart." she gasped. "Excuse me, sir, but who do you take me for?"
"A pain in the ass." he muttered.
"How rude!" she hissed. "You are in my seat, I will thank you to move."
He opened his eyelids to glare at her. "There's a free seat right here. Sit down and shut up."
"This is seat twenty-four. I am seat twenty-five." she snapped. "Would you care to take a wild guess at which seat you are sitting on? You do know your numbers, don't you?"
He scoffed, equal part insulted, irritated and amused. "What's the difference, Princess? It's a seat. Put your ass down and… I don't know, check your manicure or something."
"My manicure is impeccable, I thank you." she retorted without missing a beat. "And the difference is twenty-five is a window seat. I booked a widow seat. Kindly take your allotted seat and leave me mine."
Truth be told, if she had just come around and asked him politely to change seats because she wanted the window, he might have humored her but now… Now he wanted to rile her up. Scratch the polished veneer.
"Or what?" he challenged.
"Or I will be forced to fetch a train attendant to make you comply." she threatened, puffing like a peacock.
"Fetch away, sweetheart." he taunted.
She pursed her lips, and shuffled on her feet. "It will cause a scene."
"I don't mind causing a scene." he shrugged. "You want your seat, you'll have to cause a scene."
He could see he was presenting her with an impossible dilemma.
In the end she sat down on the empty seat with a huff. "You, sir, are the rudest man I have ever had the displeasure to meet."
"Name's Haymitch." he smirked. "If you're gonna insult me, we should be on first name basis."
"Certainly not." she growled. "And do not think I am giving up the fight. I will get my seat. This is not over."
"Oh, I didn't think it was." he chuckled.
There was only one way this would end and it would involve a flat surface, some creativity and his name on her lips.
24) literally bumping into each other au
The collision was painful and she felt herself falling backward. In the split second between the shock and the fall, she imagined it all: she would fall and her dress was flirting with decency as it was, she would flash the whole room, there would be pictures taken, the whole Capitol would laugh at her and her whole career – a career that was barely starting – would be over. Effie Trinket promising young model would become Effie Trinket the almost wannabe who fell at a party and exposed her underwear. Oh, her mother would probably die of shame…
Hands saved her from that fate though.
Whoever had bumped into her steadied her before she could fall. She grabbed the young man's wrists, clinging to that lifeline, and her blue eyes met grey. Grey like a stormy sky. Riveting.
He let her go as soon as she was back on her heels and she licked her orange painted lips almost nervously because of all people she had to bump into Haymitch Abernathy – and a part of her, the part that wanted to be a seventeen year old teenager instead of a mature seventeen year old model, couldn't help but think that this was fate. She had never sported a stronger crush for a celebrity than the one she had nursed for the Quell's victor.
They stared at each other.
It barely lasted a second but, to Effie, it felt endless.
"Come on, buddy, there's better booze on my floor. Let's go back." Eleven's victor appeared suddenly, flinging his shortened arm around Haymitch's neck. "Made a friend?"
She flinched and recoiled at the sight of the stump and Haymitch sneered at her instinctive reaction.
"No." he said. "Just a clumsy one."
She didn't even have time to protest or call him out on his rudeness. He was gone before she could open her mouth.
She chose to pretend the whole thing hadn't happened.
25) librarian/avid reader au
"I am afraid you are late, sir." the perky blonde behind the desk announced with a cheerful voice. "You won't be able to borrow books for two weeks. Those are the rules."
Haymitch stared at her before rubbing his bloodshot eyes with unsteady hands. "Where's the nice one? Annie?"
The librarian bristled, probably because he had just inferred she wasn't the nice one. "The previous librarian is on maternity leave as I understand it. I am her replacement."
"You're new." he repeated and he knew he was stating the obvious but his brain didn't seem to work properly that morning. It wasn't a good day. He had been craving a fucking drink since the middle of the night, he hadn't really slept and listening to Prim and Katniss' chatter that morning had given him a headache. "Look, I need books."
"Then I suggest you bring them back in the allotted delay, next time." she retorted. "Rules are rules. You brought them in late and you can't borrow for two weeks. Next time there will be a fee."
"Annie let me…" he argued. "Look, me and Annie have an arrangement, okay? I need books."
She clicked her tongue. "Keep your voice down. This is a library not a circus." She cleared her throat and stood up to place the book he had just brought back on a trolley. "I do not know which sort of arrangement you had with the previous librarian but I am sure you understand rules and regulations are here for a reason. Schedules are important. Two weeks isn't so long a time, I am sure you will find something else to occupy your time."
"Yeah." he scoffed. "Like a bottle of whiskey or maybe some vodka. Although, to be honest, moonshine would cut it right now." She stared at him, either flabbergasted or appalled, he didn't know and he didn't care. He was too desperate to even feel embarrassed. "I've got two kids at home, I'm the only one they've got, I need to stay sober. Books help keep me sober. I need books."
She studied him for the longest time, seemingly frozen, and then she pursed her lips. "Rules should apply to everyone."
He scowled, disgusted by what was coming out of her mouth. Did she have any idea what it did to his pride to ask for help? To bare his problems to a virtual stranger? "You're a bitch." He turned on his heels, intending to find another library even if it meant a longer drive when her voice stopped his retreat.
"Although given the circumstances, I am willing to turn a blind eye provided it does not happen again." she finished. "You can apologize anytime now."
"Sorry, sweetheart." he breathed out, so relieved he could probably have kissed her on the spot which wouldn't have been a good idea because she was rocking the librarian sexy look and his shrink had told to him to avoid any sort of romantic entanglements for now. He wondered if it also applied to possible one-night stands.
"My name is Effie, not sweetheart." she scolded him. "And I wouldn't be opposed to you buying me coffee to thank me sometimes. If you want to, that is."
"Coffee." he repeated. And fuck his shrink, he thought. "Coffee, yeah. Can do that."
36) living in a society where their love is taboo au
Haymitch had never cared about what people thought of him. Effie, on the other hand, had always cared too much.
She had come to Twelve after the war for a certain number of reasons that included the facts that she had nowhere else to go and that she didn't want to build herself a new life without Haymitch and the children in it.
It didn't mean Twelve's inhabitants had magically accepted her and forgiven all her sins.
They tolerated her because Haymitch had punched the first one who had purposefully shoved her and Peeta had banned from the bakery those who weren't discreet enough when they insulted her. She was tolerated because her victors were forming a human shield around her.
She never deluded herself into thinking they didn't hate her.
She knew they resented Haymitch and the children for taking her in, for offering her a place to stay and, more than that, for liking her. The children seemed to be more easily forgiven than Haymitch though.
People stared when the two of them walked in town and she was always careful to keep a cheerful dumb mask, to pretend not to see… But she did see. She felt the glares and she heard the whispered insults and she winced every time because she could take and accept the Capitol bitches and escort scums but those directed at Haymitch… The traitors and escort's dogs… Those she couldn't bear.
She heard a particularly colorful one and she flinched, stepping away from him by reflex, knowing putting some distance between them would calm the nastier ones down.
He grabbed her hand and tugged her back to his side, entwining their fingers.
"What are you doing?" she breathed out, stunned and a little scared. They didn't do hand-holding. They didn't do anything in public. Their relationship had always been hidden behind closed doors.
"Making a point." he growled, glaring at everyone around them and speaking a little too loud for her comfort. "I'm not ashamed of you. I've got no reason to be ashamed of you. If anything, I'm proud."
She blushed a little, whacking his arm. "Oh, hush."
"I mean it." he snapped.
"I know you do but it won't help anything." she retorted. "Let them talk, I don't care as long as I have you. I just hate that they are badmouthing you."
"I don't care about that." he scowled.
"Yes, I know that too." she smiled. "That is why I love you."
37) meeting in prison au
Haymitch was used to being thrown in prison to sober up. He was also used to the sort of people you found sharing a cell with in the middle of the night. The girl they brought in, worrying her fingers and clearly scared out of her mind, wasn't that kind. She was greeted with whistles and cat calls and she remained huddled against the bars, obviously not keen on going anywhere near the drunks and more dangerous looking guys. She also gave a wide berth to the prostitutes who were waiting for time to pass, looking bored out of their mind.
She had a pink wig on and her short dress was made of sparkling silver beads. She was wearing too much make-up. He couldn't decide if she was a rich Daddy girl who had been out partying or a prostitute who was clearly new at her job. Either way she looked completely terrified.
With a sigh and a curse for his own brain who had sobered up too fast for him not to care, he sat up from where he was sprawled on the bench, and edged further enough away that there would be a large space to sit. She watched him from under her fake eyelashes, her blue eyes darting from him to the space he had just vacated and back. Warily, she came to sit down, jutting her chin up when the cat calls started again.
One of the seasoned prostitutes told the men to shut it. And they did. There were rules and people you didn't mess with.
"Thank you." she whispered once she was sitting – closer to him than he had expected her to but, then again, the alternative was to sit next to a guy who had so many tattoos up his arms Haymitch couldn't quite tell what his skin looked like underneath. He nodded at her and rested his head against the wall at their back, wondering how much longer he would have to wait for Chaff or Finnick to get their ass over there and bail him out. She cleared her throat. "What are you here for? If you don't mind my asking?"
Posh, he figured.
"Public intoxication." he snorted. "You?"
His best guess would have been partying gone wrong but she looked neither drunk nor high.
Her cheeks flushed crimson and she looked down at her feet. "I am an escort. Well… It was my first night, I am unsure if it counts. First day on the job and already arrested…" She briefly pressed her hands against her face and then brought them down, a bright smile on her face. "My apologies. You probably do not want to hear this. I am not in a habit of confiding to a stranger, I promise you. Then again, I have never been to prison before so I hardly know the etiquette…"
He smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Probably don't use the word etiquette, sweetheart. Not sure those guys know what it is."
"My name is Effie." she said, apparently taking offense at the moniker. Odd for a prostitute.
"What does a girl like you become an escort for?" he scoffed.
"A girl like me has to eat." she retorted coldly.
"A girl like you is desperate." he guessed. "But a girl like you will never be a prostitute either. That's not for you, Princess. You don't belong here. It's plain to see."
"I am going to go to prison." she whispered and he thought she was talking to herself rather than to him.
"Can't you call someone to bail you out?" he frowned.
She shook her head.
"Abernathy." one of the cops called, opening the cell. "You're out."
He stood up and for a moment he thought she would reach out in fear of being left alone but in the end she simply flashed him a small smile.
Chaff was waiting for him at the front desk, not looking really happy with him.
"Third time this year." his friend said.
He rolled his eyes and addressed the cop behind the desk instead. He told himself he didn't know why. "There's a girl in there… Effie? Has her bail been fixed yet?"
"What are you doing?" Chaff frowned.
"We're bailing her out." he said. "I'll pay you back."
"Found a girlfriend in a cell." his best friend chuckle. "Why am I not surprised?"
40) exes meeting again after not speaking for years au
"It doesn't need to be awkward."
The glass of whiskey briefly froze on the way to his lips. He downed it in one go, throwing his head back before turning around to face her. She looked good, better than the last time he had seen her. Then again, it had been five years since the last time he had seen her… Right after the war. It figured they would reunite at the kids' wedding. It figured they would invite her without telling him.
"Why would it be awkward?" he snorted. "'Cause we haven't talked in years or 'cause last time we did you vowed to hate me until your dying day?"
"That was rude of me to say, I suppose." Effie bit on her bottom lip, her eyes wandering around the happy party taking place in the children's backyard before coming back to him. "You have been very successful at avoiding me."
"Not so successful, obviously." he muttered. He had been careful to stay out of her path ever since he had spotted her in the midst of the guests. "I figured I'd give you space."
"Five years is a lot of space." she replied, reaching out to pluck the empty glass from his hand. He wondered if she knew she was the only one who could do that without him pitching a fit. She placed it on the nearby table covered with food and baked goods from Peeta's bakery. "Will you dance with me?"
He frowned. "So, you don't hate me anymore?"
"Five years is a lot of space." she repeated, outstretching her hand. "Dance?"
"Always." he shrugged, taking her hand.
42) star-crossed lovers au
Sometimes he though the thing he hated most about Effie Trinket was that she was Capitol.
And not because of the obvious reason that Capitol people were little more than slavers, not because he was supposed to hate her for everything they had done to him and his people but because…
She was Capitol and he was District.
That was as doomed as it got.
Even if he wanted more than the sex they shared… Even if he wanted more than the tender moments they stole here and there and pretended never existed…
There was nothing else.
She was Capitol and he was District.
There was no crossing that line. It wasn't even a line, it was an abyss.
There would be no building a life together, no picking a house, no fighting over charred eggs at breakfast, no arguments about getting a dog or a cat or even a damned canary, there would be no taking care of each other when they were sick, no sharing a mug of tea in front of the fire on the late cold nights, no sitting on the porch and watching the stars… No growing old together…
She was Capitol and he was District.
They belonged to two different worlds that sometimes overlapped but could never coexist.
They were doomed from the start.
45)pretending to hate each other au
"'Cause I hate her." he grumbled, watching the boy unload the groceries the kids thought he was unable to do by himself – he was perfectly capable, he was just lazy. "War's over. We don't need an escort anymore. Why do you keep inviting her?"
"Strictly between you and me, she invites herself." Peeta chuckled. "But it's good… We are happy to see her. We love Effie."
"Speak for yourself." he snapped. "She's still the most annoying bitch I've ever met."
The boy didn't even blink at his language, he kept on stocking the cupboards. "Then why do you keep on offering your guestroom?"
"'Cause I'm being a good mentor and sparing you the chore." he retorted. "She's a pain in the ass."
Peeta paused, a jar of apricot jam in his hand and a small smile on his lips. "I'm not going to speak for Katniss because we both know she's not the most observant but… You do know I know she doesn't sleep in the guestroom right? Because… Not that it's not fun to watch the two of you pretend you hate each other but… Yeah… I know."
Haymitch pursed his lips, a little startled – and truth be told irritated – by this statement. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure, you don't." the boy grinned. "Please, go on complaining about Effie. I'll pretend I don't know that's your way of saying you miss her."
Cheeky brat.
49) boss/intern au
The intercom buzzed before Portia was done with the latest gossip. "Effie, bring me the file, yeah? You know the one."
She pursed her lips and apologized to her friend, grabbing a file at random on the desk and proceeding to the boss' office. Surely enough, Haymitch was more busy drinking than working, his feet propped on the desk. Why the lawyer cabinet still employed him, she didn't know, maybe because he owned almost half of it. Why she had been unlucky enough to get an internship with him of all people… She had been excited at first, he used to be one of the greats and she had been excited. She had quickly come back down to Earth though.
Being Haymitch Abernathy's intern meant doing his job, purely and simply.
"I am your intern, not your secretary." she hissed as soon as the door was closed behind her.
"Turn the lock." he requested.
"Certainly not!" she huffed. "It is not even midday. There are people everywhere in the office." And yet she glanced to make sure the blinds were closed and nobody could see them from the corridor. That was how sure she was he would get his way. He always did. She honestly didn't know what it was about him but she was helpless to refuse. They had explosive fights and they had amazing sex. It was an endless circle. "What is the problem with you anyway? Have you been watching porn at work again instead of preparing the hearing?"
He took his feet off the desk to stand up and she estimated he was buzzed but not drunk – she had learned to set up a scale for his drinking.
"Your skirt's the problem." he snorted. "You forgot to put one."
She didn't give him the pleasure of glancing down at herself. The skirt was short, she will grant him that. But it was decent and she happened to like it. "You do realize I could sue you for sexual harassment?"
"Go ahead." he smirked, plucking the file from her hand and tossing it on the desk. "Can't really care with these legs staring at me."
She shook her head at his stupidity. "Legs do not stare."
"I'll do the staring then." he retorted, his hands already attacking the buttons of her blouse.
She wordlessly reached behind her and turned the lock.
"You are impossible." she accused. "Impossible."