prompt :haymitch and the guys drinking talking about who's breasts are and all the guys say that effie's breasts are to small. haymitch gets alittle mad and accidently says that effie's are perfect the way they are

Happy Birthday to Bella184ever!

Boobs Man versus Legs Man

Haymitch hated the aftermath of the Games. There were days, right after the last tributes finally slaughtered each other, of emptiness when they were all expected to fill the void while the brand new victor recovered in the Clinic. It usually meant a lot of boring parties and public events that nobody cared about. Feeding the wolves, as Trinket called it.

The hour long drive to the huge mansion in the hills had almost done him in. For one thing, it was stifling hot that day, despite the Capitol's controlled weather. Haymitch was hardly ever cold, even when the temperatures dropped below 0, so heatwave wasn't something he could do. Air conditioning in the car had done little to help him cool down but his escort's prattle, on the other hand, had vastly contributed to his annoyance.

He hadn't needed the lecture about the sponsor who owned the mansion and was throwing the party – One's main sponsor, whose protégé had just won the Games. Trinket was still clinging to her stupid hopes of stealing the man away for Twelve.

Good for her.

Haymitch's feet were on solid Earth and he refused to waste his time.

"It's more water than whiskey." he complained, making his liquor twirl in his glass. "What's with the fucking heat? Aren't they supposed to control the weather with a fucking button?"

And who, in their right mind, decided having a party outside was a good idea in this weather? Granted, a glance at the imposing white brick mansion didn't make it any more appealing, it was probably cooler down there, in the huge garden. There was everything from a string quartet and a dance floor, to food laid out on long tables – food, he wouldn't touch because he was sure it was now bad – and, blissfully, waiters that regularly made rounds to refresh everyone's drinks.

He had grabbed a table near the fountain when he had arrived – fashionably late, as per Trinket's calculations, but still earlier than almost everyone else, so he figured it meant they had been on time – and his friends had joined him as soon as they had managed to shake off their own escorts.

"There's a problem with that." Beetee shrugged. "They called Wiress in to take a look."

Three's victors were always called in all around the year like clockwork to check on one thing or another. Way to exploit people to the very end.

"That's why she gets to escape this?" Chaff snorted. "Should have gotten myself a degree…"

"I think you need a brain to get a degree." Finnick teased, flashing them his wolfish grin.

"You little shit." Chaff laughed, toasting the boy.

Haymitch smirked, not bothering to hide his amusement. Finnick was seventeen and every bit a peacock but it was impossible not to love the boy.

Beetee chuckled. "I would have gone with her, truth be told, but…"

He was interrupted by the arrival of his escort, a woman whose skin had been dyed a vivid shade of green – which always gave Haymitch nightmares, thanks heaven Trinket wasn't into that trend. Gloria barely bothered to excuse herself for having disturbed their conversation.

"Beetee, I need you to stay with Layela." Three's escort reminded him. "We cannot afford any mishap tonight."

"Ah, yes. Of course." Beetee agreed easily enough, nodding at them. "Sorry, gentlemen, I am on babysitting duties."

Gloria dragged him away to where Three's newest victor was chatting with their host.

"Guess Trinket isn't the only one who wants to snatch Gildman away." Haymitch snorted.

"I guess someone wants to snatch something else…" Chaff mocked.

Finnick blushed a little and cleared his throat, taking a sip of his cocktail. Haymitch realized he had been staring, not at the sponsor but at the girl from Three.

"Ah." He brought his glass to his lips, made a face at the atrocious watered taste, and placed it back down. "You like the new girl?"

Layela had won the previous year but Haymitch hadn't given her too much thought or attention. She had seemed nice enough when she had popped in Twelve for Victory Tour but aside for the mandatory pictures of the two of them shaking hands, he hadn't had any real chance to talk to her. She was eighteen – or nineteen now, he figured – and she had volunteered. It was part of the reason why he hadn't made a huge effort to get to know her. Careers were almost always volunteers and, even though they saw the light sooner rather than later, he still had reservations about them at first.

He could see the appeal though. Her hair was pulled up in a long blond ponytail that kept swinging left and right, her body was lean and, he knew from watching the previous season, lethal, she had bright green eyes and an easy smile… She had a sound head on her shoulders too. Like most victors from Three, she had won by outsmarting everyone else, placing traps on their paths and then finishing the job. She had looked determined and almost ruthless in the arena, that was her public image. From what he had seen of her since the beginning of those Games, she didn't brag and she didn't make a fuss, she hung back and assessed situations before making her voice heard. Beetee was grooming her to take over his mentoring duties.

"She's nice." Finnick said, sounding awfully detached. His eyes betrayed him though, they darted back to her, watching her in a very telling way.

"You want the girl, go get the girl." Chaff advised, bumping his stump against his shoulder.

The boy awkwardly shuffled on his feet, making Haymitch wonder how many girls he had picked up before. Finnick did what was expected of him, playing the playboy card because he had no choice, but when it came down to what he really wanted, who he really wanted…

"Need a wing man?" he offered, taking pity on the kid.

How hard could it be? He would chat up the girl for him, send her on her way and all Finnick would have to do was pluck it. He used to be good at that, once, before his status as a victor made it unnecessary. In the Capitol, all he had to do was make eye contact with a woman and it was often enough for her to be all over him, only too happy to get some attention from a victor – even Twelve's drunkard.

He lived like a monk in Twelve so he enjoyed it when he was in the city. One-night-stands left him empty lately though, strangely… lonely. He hated those women. He never remembered their faces or their names. He fucked them and sent them on their way. It was always quick because he was in a hurry to finish as soon as it had started, disgusted by the void of it all.

It was never like that with Trinket.

They didn't always intend to sleep together. More often than not, it was a slip, an accident, the consequence of a heated fight… It was rare for one of them to purposefully seek the other out with that in mind…

One-night-stands felt cold and soulless but with Trinket it was always… It was liquid fire. She was bossy and demanding in everything she did, sex was no exception. They clawed at each other, marked each other's skin with their teeth and their nails… They fought… And it was glorious.

If she hadn't been so fucking irritating… Although maybe that was what he liked best. The challenge of it all. How easily she could sneak under his skin and push all the wrong buttons… How easily she could release the monster in him and yet keep him on a tight leash… She wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't naïve either, she didn't mistake him for a hero like the women he picked up in bars, she knew just how dangerous he could be… But she wasn't afraid of him – and it was either very stupid or very brave…

"Like you can be a wing man." Chaff snorted, bringing him back to the situation at end.

His eyes had drifted in the crowd and found his escort, he realized, and he had been staring hard enough that she was tense. She was in full seduction mode, chatting up a woman in hope of getting her to sponsor them the following year, laughing and making a show of herself… She was wearing a small little thing of a tight white dress, with a plunging neckline and big golden brooches on her shoulders that may or may not keep the whole thing from unraveling… The legs on display were endless, the firmness of her calves only enhanced by the golden stilettos that sparkled under the shimmering lights. Even the pink and purple wig, pulled up in an intricate braided bun on the top of her head, and the heavy make-up weren't enough to prevent his cock from twitching at her sight.

There were around fifty women at that party and he could probably have taken his pick but, at that moment, she was the only one he wanted.

"I'm an awesome wing man." he grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey if only to cool his thoughts.

He wasn't going to have a boner just by looking at her.

And he wasn't irritated because she was flirting with someone else. He wasn't.

"You suck at being a wing man." Chaff accused, pointing a finger at him. "I'll do it, boy."

"I don't need a wing man." Finnick protested. "I'm not even sure I'm interested."

The kid's eyes darted from Three's victor to where Trinket was standing and Haymitch didn't hide his annoyance this time.

"Don't go there." he warned. "She's Capitol and she's too old for you. Also not interested in children."

If they didn't have that conversation once a year…

"I'm not a child." Finnick snapped, his expression darkening.

"Easy. Easy." Chaff cut in, a touch more serious. "Finnick… How many times do I have to tell you… It's not nice to go for someone else's girl…"

"She's not my girl." Haymitch growled, in no mood for those stupidities. It was far too hot. "I'm just trying to look out for the boy. Let him go after someone his age."

Chaff studied him, not quite fooled but more amused than anything else. "He's got a point, Finnick. Plus, Layela's younger… More… stamina." Haymitch scoffed despite himself because nobody could have accused Effie Trinket of lacking stamina. She was twenty-nine, not… Eleven's victor's eyes were twinkling with mirth. "Something to say about Trinket's stamina, buddy?"

"Nope." he retorted, finishing his disgusting whiskey, looking around for a waiter and, of course, finding none.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Trinket's a tiger in the sack…" Chaff insisted.

"Wouldn't know." Haymitch lied, his gaze automatically wandering back to his escort. And fuck that dress… She chanced a glance his way, this time, having probably felt his staring again, and their eyes met. He couldn't help but lick his lips. She briefly tilted her head to the side, assessing, and then went back to her flirting without batting an eyelash, completely dismissing him.

The blatant disinterest made him mad with lust.

That was it.

He would have her pinned against something before the night was through.

Or, more likely, he would wait until the drive back because the AC was the only way he would enjoy it given the heat.

"Sure." Chaff humored him. "But you can't argue Layela's got better arguments."

Eleven's victor not so subtly drew the shape of breasts in front of his chest.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "You're a boobs man."

"Well…" Finnick cut in, clearing his throat, the point of his ears a bit red. "I agree with Chaff. They look… nice."

"Trinket looks a hundred times better than that girl." he heard himself advance, clearly defensive. Finnick and Chaff exchanged a look and it irritated Haymitch. He scoffed. "Come on, you can't compare. Trinket's a woman. I'm sure you're gonna have fun with your Layela, Finnick, but that girl's still a kid."

Which was all well and good because Four's victor needed a fling his own age. But there was no comparison possible between Effie Trinket and Three's victor.

"Which means everything's firm where it should be." Chaff countered with a shrug.

"You're the first one to say Trinket's ass could damn a saint." he scowled. "And, those legs of hers? You've seen those legs?"

The legs were his undoing every damn time. She knew it and she had no shame in using it against him.

"Nice legs." Finnick granted with a small sigh. "But legs aren't everything. And…"

"And what?" he sneered. "You're going to tell me your little crush has a better ass than my escort?"

Chaff chortled in his glass. "Don't take it so seriously, buddy… We're just talking…"

"You're talking shit." he spat. "And if you're going to talk rubbish all night…"

"We can agree to disagree." Finnick suggested, clearly amused but a bit weary of his reaction. "Nobody's insulting Effie."

"I don't care about insulting Effie." he protested. "I care about the two of you being blind and stupid."

"'Cause we don't like to feel around for ten minutes to find a breast?" Chaff challenged, half laughing. "You can't deny your escort's kind of flat."

"She's well proportioned." he hissed through clenched teeth, pulling on the tie Trinket had forced around his neck earlier. It was too hot for ties. It was too hot for the whole bullshit.

"Yeah, well…" Eleven's victor shrugged. "I like my proportions curvier."

"You also like them fake." he accused. "Like it's any good to squeeze plastic."

"I don't mind fake boobs as long as there are boobs to speak of, true." Chaff chuckled. "You should suggest that to your escort… If she had better tits…"

"Her tits are perfect." he snarled. "You're talking shit 'cause you could never score someone like her anyway. She's out of your league and you can't stomach it."

There was a long heavy silence after that little outburst during which Haymitch had ample time to feel stupid.

He looked down at his empty glass, angry with himself. "Chaff…"

"It's fine, buddy." Eleven's victor dismissed with a wave of his stump and more cheer in his voice than he probably felt. "Sensitive subject. We shouldn't have insisted. To each their own." Chaff laughed and nudged Finnick's shoulder. "Wouldn't go near Trinket tonight, though. Someone's a bit possessive…"

"I ain't…" he started but wasn't allowed to finish.

"Go get that girl, Finnick." Chaff insisted. "Have some fun for once, yeah?"

Four's victor hesitated. The boy clearly wanted to be anywhere else but sitting at that table at that particular moment though. He left without needing to be told twice.

Haymitch followed his progression toward Three's victor, noting the kid had enough presence of mind to snatch two flutes of champagne from a passing try.

Silence stretched as they both pretended to be fascinated by Finnick's attempts at chatting the girl up.

"Sorry." Haymitch eventually offered. It was gruff and probably came too late.

Chaff dismissed it again with a new wave of his stump. "Your escort's becoming a touchy subject."

"It's just the heat." he denied. "I hate the heat."

Eleven's victor accepted that with a stiff nod and downed the rest of his glass. "It's fine. Forget it." His friend looked around. "How about we find ourselves some women of our own? You can take the leggy ones, I'll get the big breasts."

It was an olive branch and Haymitch would have been better inspired to take it. However, picking up a woman meant kissing any chance of fucking Trinket that night goodbye and… He tried to spot her but she had disappeared in the crowd. The memory of that dress was vivid though.

And the way she had ignored him…

He was yearning to bring her down a peg or two.

On her stomach or on her knees, if she was willing…

But that was the good thing with Trinket, she hardly ever said no. She was game for almost anything. She made him work for it just like he made her work for it but the only times she had refused him was when he had been drunk bordering on wasted. And he couldn't quite fault her for that…

"Look…" he hesitated, wincing a little.

"Don't. I get it." Chaff snorted. It was his friend's turn to hesitate, watching him like a hawk. "Thing is, Haymitch… You fuck her, that's all good… She clearly knows how to work it on her back…"

"Careful." he growled. She was a pain but she was still his escort. And he didn't treat his escort like a piece of meat.

"My point is." his friend insisted. "Don't forget what this is. You fuck an escort, you fuck the Capitol. There's nothing wrong with giving the Capitol a good pounding but don't let the Capitol fuck you."

"The Capitol ain't fucking me." he scoffed.

It was uncharacteristic of Chaff to look so serious. "They're drones, Haymitch. The moment you start seeing them as people, you're fucked. I taught you that, remember? And that one…" Eleven's victor shook his head. "I know you like her but don't let her make you weak."

"Weak." he spat. "She's not…"

"The moment you choose a Capitol slut over your brother, you're being weak." Chaff cut him off. "'Cause you're letting them win."

Don't call her a slut, he almost snapped but he swallowed back the words because it would only make it worse.

"I ain't choosing her over you." he grumbled.

"You just got into my face 'cause I dared suggest she didn't look that good." Chaff sneered.

"It's not about her, it's about the idea behind it." he lied.

Eleven's victor scoffed a bitter laugh. "Sure. Sure, it is." He shook his head. "We go back eighteen years. She'll leave for another District in a season or two and she won't ever look back. Be careful, buddy, that's all I'm saying."

Chaff slapped his shoulder and wandered away, probably in search of a hook up.

He rubbed his face, wondering where his escort had disappeared to, wondering how mad she would be if he just took off now even though the party was in full swing…

"Haymitch."

He didn't startle. Or maybe he did a little. To be fair, he hadn't been expecting her to appear at his side.

Her make-up was a little smudged and her skin was suspiciously shiny, clearly she wasn't unaffected by the heat either.

"What do you want, Trinket?" he hissed. Nothing Chaff had said was settling right with him. It left him with a bad feeling in the stomach.

"I wanted to know if you were ready to go." she replied, lips pursed, probably because he was being too rude or whatever. "It is far too hot and a lot of people are leaving..."

He blinked and then shrugged. "Yeah. Yeah… Let's go."

"Are you alright?" she frowned. "The discussion looked a bit… volatile earlier with Finnick and Chaff."

He waved that away, steering her toward the exit with a hand at the small of her back.

"They don't know what's good." he declared. "That's all."

"Oh, and you have such flawless tastes, I suppose?" she taunted, lifting her eyebrows in a challenge that did nothing to convince him not to try to get his way with her in the car.

"I guess I do, sweetheart." he snorted. "I guess I do…"