Prompt : I really need to see a sequel to this where hazelle realises she 'lost' or haymitch openly tells her he's committed now. Pleaaaseeeeeee

This isn't a sequel though. It stands alone =)

No Choice To Make

The cider was lukewarm and tasted more like sparkling apple juice. There was no liquor in there and Haymitch's initial joy at the prospect had faded fast. The wedding was a success from what he could tell. People were having fun dancing and, more importantly, Finnick and Annie seemed to be on a cloud of their own making. The young woman was laughing, her green dress shimmering under the lights with her every move.

There weren't many dots of colors in the sea of grey. People had put on their best clothes but, to most of them, their best clothes were the uniforms provided by Thirteen. He had amused himself by following the huge pink mass of fabric with his eyes for a while as Effie ran around to make sure everything was perfect, the dress she had modified for the occasion too big to be inconspicuous. He liked it better when she wore tight clothes than those puffy things that only served to make her look ridiculous and didn't let him ogle her figure, but needs must, as she had told him very seriously while tugging on the lapels of his jacket to make sure he was presentable.

She was clapping in time with the music now, standing on the edge of the dance floor, watching the fast District dances with delight.

He slouched back on his chair and smirked, amused by the genuine childish joy on her face. She was made for happy things, he thought, not colorless Districts that sucked the life out of you. Not for the first time, his treacherous thoughts took him to after – if there was to be an after – would she want to go back to the Capitol? Would she want to go somewhere else? Somewhere new? They could find something that would suit them both, he mused. Another District, a medium one maybe. Not too big but not too isolated.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Hazelle laughed, dropping on the chair next to his.

Her cheeks were flushed from all the dancing she had just done. She was wearing her grey uniform but her dark hair was braided in an intricate pattern on her hair, flowers woven in the strands, hanging by a thread – the flowers were probably Posy's idea, he figured, he had narrowly escaped the little girl's zeal earlier to Effie's endless amusement.

"Not worth that much." he shrugged, offering her the rest of his cider because she looked out of breath and the thing was shit anyway.

She took his glass with a grateful smile and took a slow sip, watching the dancing party. Katniss and Prim were twirling not too far from Annie and Finnick, laughing hard and shrieking like children. It was good to see the kids have fun.

Hazelle chuckled and, when Haymitch shot her a curious glance, she pointed out at the far left of the dance floor where Posy was hopping around with a serious look on her face, her tongue wedged between her front teeth as she tried to emulate the movements from the adults around her. He couldn't help but snort.

"That one's gonna break a few hearts when she's bigger." he commented.

Posy had had him wrapped around her little finger from the first time Hazelle had brought her to the house back in Twelve.

"Hopefully not too many." Hazelle joked.

"You broke quite a few yourself, if I remember right." he teased, turning his head to look at her. There might have been a twenty-five years break in their friendship but it didn't mean he had forgotten their youth. Hazelle had always been a popular girl. And she had been a sight in her teenager years. She still was.

"Never yours, though." she laughed good-naturally. "You always had your eyes on Mabel."

The name was still a stab in the heart even after all those years. He avoided her gaze, looking at the dance floor again, watching Posy's attempts at dragging her brothers on the dance floor.

"Doesn't mean I didn't notice you." he shrugged. "Boys always notice pretty girls. You were set on Rob."

He saw her face soften in sorrow for a brief second from the corner of his eyes. It was fleeting though. She had grieved and mourned, he figured. Moved on.

Lucky her.

Although…

He was starting to think he had done his own grieving and mourning. It was the guilt he couldn't shake nowadays.

"Things are so different now." she whispered. "We are the only ones left, you know. The others… They're all dead. There's only you and me now."

He knew but he did his best not to think about it. He had kept no friends from his youth, had broken ties with everyone after he had come back from the Games to three newly dug graves. Some had died in the mines and some had died in the bombings. From the small group who used to poach in the woods and cut school, he and Hazelle were the only survivors.

"Yeah." he sighed because there wasn't much else to say.

Her hand covered his and he froze a little. She was an old friend and he didn't mind her touching him much – even though he didn't allow just everyone the privilege – but all the fights he had with Effie about this came back to mind. His escort was jealous. Openly, unashamedly jealous. She kept insisting Hazelle was after something more from him than their easy friendship and he kept repeating that she was delusional and that, even if she wasn't, it didn't make a difference because he knew where he stood – for once.

That didn't mean he wanted to actually face that awkward situation.

"Hazelle…" he winced.

"We should stick together, Haymitch." she said firmly. "You and me. We could…"

"Hazelle." he cut her off firmly before she could say something that would damage their friendship forever. He gently untangled his hand from hers

She studied him for a moment. "Do you still love her? Mabel?"

He bristled, annoyed by the direction the conversation was taking. Talking about love and feelings wasn't his favorite thing. Talking about Mabel…

His instinctive answer would have been a yeah but he swallowed it back because it was the easy road and he didn't want to lie.

"A part of me will always love Rob." she insisted. "It's alright. We…"

"We were sixteen." he interrupted. "When she died, we were sixteen. You had a life with him. I had a few months and a lifetime of guilt." He looked down, struggling to find the right words. "It's not love. What I feel. Might have been, once upon a time. Now… It's not about Mabel, Hazelle."

He instinctively looked up, his grey eyes immediately meeting blue. Effie has stopped clapping and if she was still smiling she was also staring, some uncertainty on her face. When she realized he had seen her watching, she turned away, grabbed Katniss' arm as she passed by and obviously requested the girl showed her some moves because the Mockingjay nodded and started explaining some of the simplest steps.

"It can't be about her." Hazelle scoffed, her gaze following his, but she sounded uncertain. "She's an escort."

"She's my friend." he growled. The warning was clear but they had known each other long enough that she simply ignored it.

"She's everything you hate." she frowned. "Does she even have a brain? Every time she opens her mouth, she sprouts nonsense. She's loud. She's arrogant. She's…"

"Kind." he cut her off. "Funny. Beautiful. And, yeah, she's got a brain. She just likes playing dumb. You'd be surprised the edge you get on people when they underestimate you."

Hazelle watched him for a moment and then shook her head. "You sound like you…"

"Maybe I do." he snapped defensively.

"You don't mean that." she scowled. "You like her on her back, yeah. She looks like the kind who would open her legs for every men. But you don't…"

"Careful." he warned in a low growl. "'Cause I punched people for less than that."

Hazelle looked disgusted and appalled now.

"You're not serious." she insisted. "She's got nothing to offer you. We could be a family, Haymitch. All of us."

"I've already got a family, Hazelle." he countered, too harsh probably. "And, yeah, she's a part of it. And I like it that way."

He stormed away before he could say or do something he would regret. His hand found the small of Effie's back as soon as she was within reach. Katniss had left to join Johanna and she was back to watching the dancing, yearning to join probably but that wasn't something he would offer. She didn't turn her head toward him but he didn't take his hand away from her back anyway.

"Did she finally make her move?" Effie hummed, sounding detached as if she didn't care at all one way or another. An act, of course. She was very good at pretending she wasn't hurt when she really was.

"Does it matter?" he grumbled.

"It does, depending on what you choose." she replied in a distracted manner, apparently fascinated by the dancers. "Who you choose."

"No choice to make, Princess. I keep telling you." he shrugged. He trailed his fingers up her spine and coiled them briefly around her nape, giving a small squeeze before dropping his hand.

She did turn her head then, searching his eyes for a lie or a slimmer of doubt or something… She seemed satisfied by what she found there because she granted him a small genuine smile.

"Katniss taught me some steps…" she informed him.

"Not happening." he snorted. "Haven't danced this stuff in forever. Wait until they play a slow song. Maybe you'll get lucky."

They had plenty of practice at those and he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of everyone – he wasn't drunk enough for that.

Her smile grew cheekier, her voice dropping to a purr. "Perhaps you will get lucky tonight, Haymitch."

That was a promise he was happy to live with.