Prompt: Get ready for my crack prompt: Haymitch and Effie are about to have sex and he can't get it up if you know what I mean. Nothing serious, just a one time thing but his ego is busted and he is pissed and Effie is there for him nevertheless. Please write it if you have the motivation. )

Problem Under The Belt

He wasn't sure how the kissing had started.

They had been reviewing possible speeches for Katniss' propos in Effie's compartment – speeches the girl would probably ignore anyway – but it was late and his eyes had been burning and, for once, he had been yearning for some sleep. Her bed had been right there, it hadn't taken much for him to suggest they lied down. She had seemed surprised that he was willing to sleep with her without sleeping with her and, once the shock had passed, she had simply been pleased.

A pleased Effie was an out of control Effie.

She had kept shooting him glances as he had gotten rid of his boots, and shirt, keeping the pants and the undershirt on because it was too cold in this District for him to sleep like he usually did – with as few clothes as possible because he got warm at night. She, on the other hand, had kicked off her jumpsuit and her bra and had climbed in bed wearing only her standard grey tank-top and panties. It had been an inviting sight despite the fact that he was more used to her wearing delicate and sexy lingerie.

They had settled down as comfortably as they could on the narrow bed that clearly wasn't meant to be shared, on their sides, facing each other. He had pecked her lips goodnight because it seemed like the thing to do. It had felt domestic and they had never done domestic but he was finding himself slipping with her in Thirteen. He often felt like she was the only ally he had, the only one he could trust.

If anything, the peck had pleased her even more than his suggestion they should share a bed. He suspected that it was because it had been absolutely innocent and not a scheme to get into her pants – something he would have to remember.

She had pecked his mouth back and then she had deepened the kiss and then the kisses had grown hungry and he didn't know why he had thought they could help themselves in the first place.

You were supposed to get bored after a while with the same person, right ? It was nearing on ten years since the first time they had had sex and Haymitch was so far from being bored it was ridiculous. Granted he only had her a few months a year but… It was ridiculous, how attracted to her he was.

Kissing her was always a wild ride. Teeth and tongue and that little bit of violence… He wasn't sure at which point he had rolled on her or at which point he had pushed her top up. He only knew her right breast was warm and perky under his palm. She tugged on his undershirt and he stopped kissing her long enough for her to pull it over his head. He switched target and closed his mouth on her nipple, sliding down the bed a little.

Her back arched and then she was wriggling, trying to create fiction between her legs. He could feel the damp fabric of her panties against his lower belly, smell how ready she was already, and he slid even further down, trying not to panic at how little he was affected by a display that would usually have had him rock hard.

It had never taken a lot with her for him to get aroused.

"Haymitch…" she breathed out.

"On it." he snorted against the flat plane between her breasts, nuzzling it with his nose before dropping a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses downward.

She immediately spread her legs for him, never ashamed of what she wanted and how she wanted it. It was something he loved about her.

And yet he barely twitched.

He was a bit distracted when he teased her by nibbling on her inner thigh, after slipping her panties down her long legs, intending to leave a trail of love bites for her to remember him by. His body wasn't reacting like it should have.

He tried to remember the last time he had woken up with a morning wood and he drew a blank. He hadn't been sleeping or eating properly since Katniss had accepted to become the Mockingjay and before that… He had been a little too busy being locked up in a room while he rode out the effects of withdrawal.

He and Effie had last slept together before the Quell had begun, on the night before the launch. He thought that it was the last time he had been hard too.

It had been… three months.

That had never happened to him.

His heart was pounding but not for the right reasons.

He never had problems before – well, maybe once or twice but it happened to everyone, right? – and nothing like this. He wasn't even half-hard. He was barely…

"Haymitch…" Effie called out and he blinked, focusing back on the matter at hands, although apparently, he was doing a decent job even distracted because she was bundling the sheets in her fists and had her head tossed back, her neck strained. He added his fingers to his mouth and she whimpered, her hand blindly feeling around until she found his shoulder.

"It's been so long…" she whispered frantically, her blue eyes darkened by lust. "I want you."

He twisted his fingers, hoping it would distract her. She gasped in pleasure but she was a stubborn woman and she tried to pull him over her. He resisted.

"It's fine." he grumbled with irritation. "Let me get you off."

"I do not want to get off, I want you to fuck me." she growled. They struggled for a bit. He didn't want to hurt her but… "What is wrong with you?!" she snapped eventually. "Don't you want…" She reached out to cup him and he was too slow in batting her hand away. And then it was too late, because shock flashed on her face. "Haymitch…"

He pushed her away, his face burning with shame, and sat on the edge of the bed, intending to hop down, gather his clothes and flee.

She knew him too well.

She wrapped herself around his back like an octopus, her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He tried to get rid of her she had him trapped in a dead lock and there was no way he could leave the bed without having to give her a piggy-ride.

"Calm down." she begged. "It is alright."

He scoffed and glanced down at himself. There was not even a telling bulge.

She peppered his neck with kisses that irritated him more than they soothed him.

"I will take a wild guess and conclude I am not the problem." she whispered between two kisses. "You desire me."

"Clearly not enough." he retorted, intending to be mean and to hurt her.

It didn't even faze her.

"I did not touch you yet." she hummed. "Perhaps it is the problem."

He licked his lips, not quite knowing what to tell her. He loved it when she touched him, of course, but he had grown hard plenty of times just by looking at her. He had never needed her to have an erection.

He wanted to have an erection.

He wanted to fuck her.

Arousal was a building pressure in his groin. It just wasn't… working. And it was frustrating.

"It will be alright." she promised, her hand trailing down his chest and inside his pants. He closed his eyes and let his head fall on her shoulder when her fingers closed around him, pressing his forehead against the side of her neck.

She was good with her fingers and she knew his body by heart.

His flesh swelled but it took a long time and it was nowhere near enough.

He was angry and frustrated long before she gave up.

"Change of plans." she declared, pushing him until he was flat on her back. He let her get rid of what was left of his clothes, he let her straddle his thighs and he let her wrap her lips around him. She was very talented at this. Hell, she was the best he ever had.

And yet, after ten more minutes, he was barely half hard.

"Stop." he demanded, turning his head away, feeling hot for all the wrong reasons. "It's not working."

"You just need some more…" she tried to argue.

"Effie, it's not working. Give it a fucking rest." he snapped.

He had never been so humiliated in his entire life.

He didn't want to look at her. He was barely aware she slowly and uncertainly tugged her top back down to cover her breasts. It had taken almost half an hour for her to get his penis half erected and it barely took a couple of minutes for it to become flaccid again. And all the while she sat there, biting down on her bottom lip, looking sorry…

"You think I finally did it?" he scowled after a while because, as humiliated and ashamed as he was, he couldn't think of who else he was going to talk to about this. He wasn't about to go and tell Finnick or Beetee he couldn't get it up. "Drunk myself into erectile dysfunction?"

He heard the loathing and self-deprecation in his voice.

He flinched when she rested a comforting hand on his stomach.

"You never had any problem before we came to Thirteen…" she said slowly. "I am no expert, of course, but I would think erectile dysfunction would show up when you are actually drinking not… When you are sober…"

Maybe it had been starting to show. He didn't have a fast recovery span. He had always put it on him not being twenty anymore but maybe it was more than that and he would never get to have sex again. Maybe it was it.

"If I had known the last time was the last time, I'd have gone for dirtier." he mumbled, only half joking.

Their last time had been tired, desperate, we-might-lose-our-kids-and-we're-going-to-lose-some-friends sex. It hadn't been as awesome as usual.

"It was not the last time." she sighed, whacking his side. "Do not be ridiculous. This sort of things happen. We will give it a rest and try again in a little while and if it still does not work we will simply talk to a doctor."

"No." he spat, horrified by the thought of confiding that to anybody.

"Yes." she argued, lifting her eyebrows. "Because I do not intend to go the rest of my life without climaxing around you."

"We're so not talking to a doctor." he growled. "They're pumping me with enough meds."

Pink pills in the morning, green pills at night… It was all on his wrist for him to remember and his communicuff beeped to remind him.

"Meds?" she repeated with a frown. "What sort of meds?"

"Didn't tell you?" he sighed, rubbing his face, wishing the shame would go away already. It was helping she didn't look pitying but still. "It's for the withdrawals or whatever. It's supposed to make me not want a drink. Fucking not working, let me tell you."

There are been translucent blue pills too initially. For his depression. He had refused to take those. They left him foggy-minded. He hadn't gone as far as denying he was depressed but he could function without meds for that.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"Jacket's pocket." he shrugged. He kept them with him because nothing guaranteed he would be able to go back to his room or the hospital for them at the appointed time. The doctor had trusted him with them because, apparently, there was nothing addictive about them so he wasn't worried he would start replacing alcohol with them.

He watched her climb off the bed, rummage in his clothes and fish the two small plastic bottles. She settled back down next to him, squeezing herself in the small space between his side and the wall, focused on studying the labels.

She tossed the pink pills bottle on the bed but she examined the one with the green pills with distaste. "Have you asked about possible side effects? Because this one… I think it was banned in the Capitol a couple of years ago. I remember because there was a huge controversy."

"I feel nauseous all the time already, sweetheart, and when I'm not, I have a headache or I can't pick up anything 'cause my hands are fucking trembling." he shrugged. "Side effects can't get worse than that."

"Of course, they can." she huffed. "I think this one is some sort of suppressor… I can't remember what this med was used for specifically but… Perhaps this explains that."

He snatched the bottle from her hand and actually read the label but it was gibberish to him. "You're saying my dick's not broken?"

"Language." she chided him. "And I think the pills may be responsible, yes."

"Easy enough to test." he shrugged. "I'll stop taking them."

"And ask someone for side effects." she insisted, pulling the blankets up before snuggling against his side, her head on his shoulder and her leg hooked over his hip.

"I'll ask Aster." he muttered. If he had to approach someone in the hospital, Katniss' mother was his first choice. He trusted her, at least. He brushed his fingers up and down her spine, before letting them wander south. "It's not 'cause I can't that…"

"It is fine." she hummed, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. "I will wait for you."

Asking Aster turned out to be a bit humiliating because she wanted to know exactly what was wrong with him and his hissed confession that he couldn't get it up was enough to leave them both stuttering and a nice shade of crimson. She confirmed the pills might be responsible and that she wouldn't keep on taking them. She didn't seem to find them healthy in the long run.

He didn't have an occasion to test the pills theory before two weeks but the fact that he woke up twice with a morning wood during those two weeks gave him hope that it had all been a fluke. When he eventually managed to get Effie alone and pinned to a wall, he was already hard just thinking about everything he wanted to do to her.

"Why, hello…" she purred, her hand immediately sneaking inside his pants. "I have missed you."

He rolled his eyes at her – because, really, only Capitols would talk to a penis – but didn't lose any time before kissing her senseless.

He was planning on enjoying his found-again virility.