Prompt: I think you haven't written something like this before, so I ask you to write it. Hayffie having a sex accident in the penthouse and they need to go to the Games Clinic where it gets awkward as hell. I hope you'll do it. You are the best.

Since I wrote this once, there was the "haymitch breaks his penis" one which, as far as accidents go, was way better. So sorry if this one sucks a bit, I'm not entirely happy with it. Also, obviously there is some smut so if you don't like that…

A Pulled Muscle

There was one thing in favor of hate sex – there were several things in favor of hate sex actually, but Haymitch wasn't in any state to focus long enough to list them all at that second – it was always wild.

And rough.

And the fact that Trinket could take it and give it back in kind was everything.

Her nails scratched his back hard enough to draw blood and he groaned in her neck, pushing her down and pinning her upper body to the dinner table with a hand on her chest. It wasn't a good position, with each new brutal thrust she slid further away. He abandoned the idea of keeping her down to grab her thighs and pull her back toward him, using his grip to pound even deeper into her, hitting home with every jerk of his hips.

She started whimpering higher and higher in that way that he had learned long ago meant she was about to come hard.

Her back arched and fell down, arched and fell down, she wriggled with the building pleasure…

It only spurred him on. He was close, so close…

Suddenly she let out a cry and he thought she was done so he picked up the pace…

"Stop." she screeched, sounding… in pain. "Haymitch, please…"

He was too far gone to stop but he recognized the order for what it was and he let go of her thighs and stepped back just in time to come all over the floor and what he suspected to be her silk stockings. Well…

"What the fuck?" he spat, panting heavily.

She hadn't made any effort to sit up yet. She was breathing hard but her face was contorted in what he figured out to be pain, her eyes were closed, and her hands were pressing on her left side.

"Trinket?" he insisted, hastily wiping himself off with the already soiled stockings and pulling up his pants. She didn't answer and it worried him. "Effie."

The rare use of her first name caught her attention. She opened her eyes and briefly bit down on her bottom lip. "I do apologize. I think I pulled something in my back."

"You're serious?" he frowned, walking around the table so he could stand next to her. She did look serious. He felt bad. Hate sex or not, it had never been about hurting her. "Shit, sorry, Princess…"

"It happens." she hissed. She took a few more deep breaths and then tried to move. She froze and let out a new whimper. Her eyes searched his. She was starting to look a bit afraid. "I think I need help."

He lifted his eyebrows and snorted. "You're stark naked on the dinner table and you want me to call for help?

Fear morphed into annoyance and she glared daggers at him.

"I want you to help me up, you insufferable idiot." she snapped.

He rolled his eyes. "Back to insulting me. See, you're better already."

He did carefully place a hand at the small of her back and help her sit up. She bit down on her bottom lip so hard he thought she was going to tear it in two. He pried it loose from her teeth, more gently than he had ever touched her probably.

"I do not feel well." she confessed.

She didn't need to tell him. She didn't look well. She was awfully pale, her fingers were shaking and it was obvious at her stiff posture that she was in pain.

"You've got any painkillers?" he asked.

"Nothing strong enough for this." she winced.

"Then, you need a doctor." he shrugged.

"As you so astutely pointed it out, I am naked." she retorted.

"Yeah, I wasn't suggesting going to the clinic like that." he mocked. "Though, I'm sure they'd enjoy the view."

Her eyebrows furrowed together. "Was that a compliment?"

"Don't hurt your brain trying to think." he grumbled, fishing her panties and bra from the floor. "Come on."

She looked pleasantly surprised that he wouldn't leave her hanging – and he almost did just because she had thought he would. Helping her back into her clothes was a laborious task: he had to kneel and hold her panties while she stepped in them, a hand on his shoulder for balance. Then, there was the bra that he struggled to clasp on, more used to taking them off than putting them on, and finally the dress, that was so full of frills he barely managed to find the zipper.

She looked a bit better by the time they made their way to the elevator – a slow way because he couldn't carry her and he couldn't really help aside for standing right next to her, ready to prevent a fall – and he almost left her there to fend for herself. After all, the elevator would get her directly to the Clinic.

"You are coming with me, aren't you?" she asked, when he lingered too long near the closing doors. With a loud sigh that, he hoped, let her know just how annoying she was, he stepped in the cabin and slammed his finger on the right button. She flashed him a tight pained smile. "Thank you."

"It's nothing." he muttered. "Can't have them saying I let my escort wandering around injured. Not good for Twelve's reputation."

The excuse was ridiculous and her gaze was too knowing.

The Games Clinic was almost always deserted at night, that night wasn't any exception. He helped her to a cot and left her in the capable hands of a nurse, hovering awkwardly behind the drawn curtain as the other woman helped her change into a hospital paper gown.

The medical staff on call were tossing him weird looks, more used to Trinket bringing him to the Clinic than to him walking his escort there. She always stayed though. When he needed stitches or when he went too far with the drinking and they had to pump his stomach, she always hovered nearby and made a nuisance of herself. He always shouted at her for it, and swore he hated her irritating self, but the truth of it was that it felt good to know there was someone there.

So staying was simply a way to pay her back in kind.

A decision he deeply regretted when the doctor came and asked how she had injured herself.

There was a moment of silence, their eyes met, Haymitch felt himself turning red but Trinket, of course, kept a perfect composure and spun a lie about falling asleep on the couch and sitting up too abruptly that fell so naturally from her lips, he would have believed her if he hadn't known better.

The doctor believed her, examined her and decided it wasn't serious enough to warrant more exams. Just a pulled muscle. He prescribed painkillers and Haymitch was forced to wait some more while the same nurse helped her back into her clothes.

They made her swallow the pills before releasing her in his care. In his care, wasn't that the best joke of the night.

The painkillers made her drowsy. He had hoped for some good blackmailing material, something he could use to taunt her the next day, but the only embarrassing thing she consented to do was practically falling asleep standing up with her head on his shoulder.

He ended up scooping her up in the end, because she was almost completely out well before they even reached the penthouse.

"The things I do for you…" he growled as he carried her back to her bed.

"Thank you, Haymitch." she mumbled in her semi-slumber.

He grumbled a bit more for appearance's sake but he still pressed a brief and rough kiss to her forehead before leaving her to sleep it off.

He didn't like the thought of her being injured.