prompt : Haymitch being the jealous or worried that he cant compeet with effies ex capital boyfriend when he tries to come back and win effie again

His Masterpiece

Haymitch watched from afar as the guy, who clearly couldn't take a hint, handed his escort a single red rose.

Cheap move.

Well… There were only so many times one could send diamonds for breakfast, flowers for lunch, and leave a thousand voicemails without the whole thing getting predictable, he guessed. A red rose probably counted as a plot twist for the guy.

"Why are sponsors giving you roses?" Chaff asked, coming to a stop next to him, probably on his way back to the Center, like they had been before Mr Expensive Gifts had appeared and she had asked him for a moment of privacy. Like there was any privacy to be had on Main Square, with all the giant screens flashing the faces of that year's tributes, teasing the upcoming interviews and the exclusive one on one between Caesar and the newly appointed Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane.

He hated the way bystanders stared at him. Most of them were put off by his glowering and kept their distances but his obvious dark mood hadn't stopped a couple of them from asking for a picture or an autograph.

"Boyfriend." he explained with irritation. "Or ex-boyfriend. Hard to say."

She hadn't exactly been forthcoming with explanations about the numerous lavish presents that had kept being brought to the penthouse since the beginning of the season. The tributes had no reason to find it weird and had simply accepted it as one of the Capitol's oddities – Haymitch knew better. However, no matter how many glares, corked eyebrows or taunts, she had kept strangely silent on the subject. Even when he had been fucking her against the wall and had made a point of knocking the bunch of flowers from its vase to accidentally stomp on it - one couldn't be held accountable for what happened in the throes of passion, after all.

"Serious rival you've got here." Chaff snorted. "That guy's loaded."

"Kinda old." he commented, leaving the other thing unacknowledged. Even with the bright purple wig and the make-up… The man had easily ten to fifteen years on him. Never mind on her.

"Isn't that her type?" his friend mocked, before a Capitol woman rudely interrupted them to ask for autographs. Chaff didn't linger after that, not keen on wasting time getting harassed by people in the streets. Haymitch had no choice but to wait until she was done.

It wasn't true, though.

He could have left without her… Go back to the penthouse, catch a break, have a drink.. It would be hours before their tributes would come back from Training.

Mr Expensive Gifts certainly looked committed to getting her back. He was talking fast, his hand often going back to rest on his chest…

Haymitch couldn't help but wonder if it was a sign of heartfelt feelings or a warning that he was about to have a heart attack and drop dead. He looked old enough to have a heart attack.

Effie was smiling. Her real smile. The one she flashed him sometimes when their limbs were heavy and their bodies flushed tight together. She was distractedly playing with the rose, rolling it one way and then the other between her fingers, looking lost in thoughts.

Eventually, she glanced in his direction and said something to the guy - a reminder that she was working probably. The man kissed her hand - farlonger than he was sure was proper - and watched as she strode toward Haymitch. He wasn't even ogling her. No, he was watching her. As if she was the moon and the sun and the sky… The whole package.

That guy was in love with her.

He didn't know why he was so surprised by that. Of course, Mr Expensive Gifts was in love with her. That was clearly the point of the gifts. People fell in love with her all the time. Half the Capitol was in love with her.

But it had never occurred to him before that she could be in love with anyone. She loved some of her boyfriends, sure. But she was never in love with them.

That thought didn't sit well with him.

An in love escort wasn't good.

An in love escort left to get married.

An in love escort took the obvious way out.

An in love escort – an efficient in love escort who he had not only learned to tolerate but who he also actually may or may not be friends with – meant he would be back to getting a brand new stupid girl every year because he would drive them away one after the other.

"My apologies." she said as soon as she reached him. "We can leave now."

He offered his arm automatically – a reflex she had hammered into his head years ago – and watched her struggle with the rose before she accepted to loop her elbow around his. Stupid rose. He hated roses.

"Who's the guy?" he asked.

"Oh…" she hummed, a little too innocently. "Just a sponsor."

"I know who the guy is." he snapped. He knew every sponsor in the city, by face if not by name. He had been playing the Games for long enough. He knew the guy was rich and he knew he favored Four. That wasn't what he meant. "Who's the guy?"

She let out an annoyed sigh and quickened her pace. "A guy."

"A guy you fuck." he insisted, lengthening his steps to keep up. The Center was looming ahead and she seemed desperate to reach it, as if she was thinking he would drop the conversation once inside.

"You disappeared the whole night three days ago." she countered. "Did I ask you why?"

"No, you just made plenty of snide comments about tramps and STDs." he sneered. "And it's different."

"Why? Because I am a woman?" she hissed.

He rolled his eyes. "No. 'Cause I don't let them romance me with flowers and diamonds. That's not a fuck buddies thing."

"Perhaps it should be." she joked, her voice light. "I wouldn't say no to you buying me diamonds."

"You want me to buy you diamonds so you let me sleep with you?" he mocked. "Newsflash, sweetheart, it's called prostitution. Oh, is that what you're doing with the guy?"

His tone was almost hopeful and it warranted him a glare.

"I fail to see how it is any of your business what is going on between Anton and me." she said after a few minutes of silence.

They used the side door to the Center, avoiding the crowd of fans that lived up front. She flashed a dazzling smile to the Peacekeeper on guard duty – because even though every team did it, mentors and escorts weren't supposed to use the side entrances – and the man stepped aside with a dreamy smile of his own. Haymitch rolled his eyes again.

He waited until he was certain they wouldn't be overheard before answering, making sure the corridors were deserted.

"I'm kinda confused, that's all." he scowled. "You're with him or what?"

"Again." she sighed, as they were reaching the main lobby. "How is it any of your business?"

There were people in there. A few victors and a couple of Gamemakers, the occasional escort fluttering around… He absentmindedly waved back to Blight but didn't lose sight of the conversation. He waited until she had called the elevator and they were safely inside to talk again though.

"I don't know, Effie, maybe 'cause you're fucking me at the same time." he growled. "It's not like we always use a condom, yeah?"

She pursed her lips but kept her eyes straight at the flashing numbers. "I always used condoms with him and I got tested right before the Games. I am clean, you do not need to worry."

She didn't ask him if he was. She didn't need to, he figured. He was sloppy with her because he trusted her but anyone else, wasted or not, got nowhere with him without protection. He was paranoid about accidentally getting a woman pregnant.

"Used." he repeated flatly. "So you're not doing him anymore."

"We are not currently seeing each other, no." she finally admitted, with an annoyed glance. "Is that what you want to know? I never pegged you for a gossip, Haymitch."

"But he wants you back." he argued.

"He does, yes." she confirmed, just as the elevator chimed and the doors opened. She fled to the relative safety of the penthouse, tossing the red rose on a small table without any more thought. He followed her to the living-room, hot on her heels, which seemed to annoy her even further. She turned around and glared at him, hands on her hips. "What do you want now?"

There were probably several answers to that question.

He opted for the one that wouldn't lead to more questioning. He kissed her. Hard. He tugged her toward him before backing her toward the back of the couch, hands roaming over her body, copping a feel here and there.

"The children…" she argued, a bit faint, when they both drew back to breathe.

"Won't be back for two hours." he mumbled, biting down on the tender spot right under her jaw.

"Haymitch!" she gasped with a mix of pain and arousal. It would leave a mark. Good. He felt around for a zipper and, when he found none, he simply kissed her again – deep and hard enough that she wouldn't notice what he was doing until it was too late. The fabric of her dress tore easily enough and she recoiled, eyes narrowed in anger. "This was an unique dress!"

"Uniquely ugly." he deadpanned, tugging the rags off her body. He wanted her naked. Completely naked. "Much better now."

"You are a brute." she hissed.

"Yeah, we'll pretend it doesn't turn you on, Princess." he snorted, lowering his head to her chest.

He dropped a few open-mouthed kisses and then simply licked and nipped. He sank to his knees eventually, letting her rest her whole weight against the couch. Her fingers tangled in his hair when he started sucking the soft skin of her stomach to leave nice love bites, not so subtly pulling her panties down while he was at it.

"Be careful, you will leave marks." she warned, breathless and already, he could tell, a bit brain fried. He didn't indulge her like that often. He liked giving her oral but it usually happened in bed. He very rarely got down on his knees for that – unlike her. "What about… Oh… This is good… This is very…" He stopped nuzzling her between the legs to plant a kiss on her inner thigh, hiding his smirk by poking at her skin with his tongue. He liked the noises she made, the moans andthe whines and the occasional whimpers… "What if… Avoxes…"

"They probably know to make themselves scarce by now." he pointed out, sucking the delicate skin between his teeth before getting to work on unraveling her.

By the time she came apart on his tongue, Haymitch was quite proud of his handiwork. There were love bites and teeth marks everywhere. She was a masterpiece.

He stood up, battling her hands away when she reached for his belt.

"Not now." he dismissed despite how tight he felt in his pants. It hadn't been about that anyway and there would be time to get even later.

She furrowed her eyebrows a little but didn't insist. "I will go change. Honestly, why you keep on destroying my clothes…"

"It's more fun that way." he winked, capturing her lips in a brutal kiss.

"For you, perhaps." she sighed. "For me, it means more shopping."

"Like that's a chore and not your main hobby…" he mocked.

Her lips twitched and, despite the light glaring, he knew she was fighting off a smile.

"You whole behavior is puzzling today." she hummed, apparently not bothered by the fact she was standing there naked as the day she was born – except for the purple wig. There was no reason for her to be though. She looked gorgeous. Naked was her best look. "If I did not know better, I would say you feel threatened by Anton."

"He's a grandpa, sweetheart." he scoffed. "Nothing to be threatened by."

She studied him for a long moment and then stepped around him and toward the door, a pleased grin on her lips. "If you say so."

"I do." he scowled. "And like you said. None of my business. Even if you're getting back with him… Not like I care."

"No, why would you?" she replied in a cheerful voice. She stopped on the threshold, glancing back at him over her shoulder. "I am not getting back with him though. Not that it is any of your business but…"

She shrugged, leaving the rest unvoiced, and resumed walking.

He wandered to the liquor cart, thinking of unpleasant things to get rid of the boner. He barely had time to pour himself a whiskey when he heard her screeching.

She must have caught sight of his masterpiece in a mirror…

"Haymitch!" she screamed from the other end of the penthouse, clearly forgetting the rule about ladies not raising their voices. "You are a dead man!"

He took a sip of liquor, not even trying to hide his smirk.