HIII, prompt : Haymitch gets upset-jealouse because effies ex is the hottest guy in the capitol and all the women brag about him and he feels insecure

The Hottest Man In The Capitol

Haymitch made his whiskey twirl in his glass, watching the city through the penthouse's bay window.

"You're tensed." Cinna remarked from the liquor cart, where he was fixing himself a cocktail.

Portia looked up from the magazine she was reading, lounging on the couch, but soon went back to her reading.

"I'll be fine once they're back." he muttered in answer.

He would relax when the Tour would be over and they were back in Twelve safe and sound.

"They were good." Cinna offered.

The kids' live interview had aired live a few minutes earlier. If he remembered the schedule right – and with Effie drilling it into his skull every morning for twenty minutes, he knew he had it right – their escort would bring them back to the Center for a light lunch before she and Haymitch headed out to record interviews of their own.

"Not good enough." he sighed.

They would need to lay the love story in thick, that afternoon. He needed to confer with Effie and they needed to come up with ways of reminding everyone just how much in love the kids were.

"My, my, my…" Portia suddenly chuckled.

"What is it?" Cinna frowned.

Whatever it was, she didn't have time to say. The elevator chimed and the rest of the team invaded the penthouse. Effie was ranting, Katniss was sulking and Peeta was breathing out sigh after sigh. Haymitch wasn't particularly surprised when the girl stormed to her room and slammed the door, quickly followed by Peeta's annoyed statement that he wanted some peace and quiet.

"Don't tell me, sweetheart." Haymitch teased, automatically handing Effie his glass of whiskey. "They were their usual charming selves."

She shot him a glare, downed his glass with a wince, gave it back, and then breathed out a long deep suffering sigh before forcing a bright smile on her lips.

"Talk to that girl." she sing-sang. It might have sounded cheerful if she hadn't looked so ready to commit murder.

"Like it ever worked before." he scoffed, joining Cinna by the liquor cart while Effie sat down on the other end of the couch. Because he was a nice man despite her claims that he wasn't a gentleman, he poured her a glass of white wine that she accepted with a small more genuine smile. "What happened this time?"

She gracefully waved a gloved hand in the air. "The usual. I said something, Katniss took offense, Peeta tried to mediate and found himself in the crossfire."

"Business as usual, then." he snorted, pouring himself another whiskey.

"Well, I have news that will distract you from that unpleasant morning." Portia cut in, wriggling her eyebrows at her friend. "The new Capitol Times issue is out."

"Oh…" Effie grinned, her voice laced with excitement. "Does it feature me?"

Haymitch slumped in his chair, already tired by the conversation that would follow. The girls could gossip for hours. He didn't know how it was possible but it was. And since Cinna didn't mind talking fashion and was always eager to humor Portia, Haymitch was often left staring at his booze, wondering what he had done to deserve that fate.

"Is there a magazine you haven't featured in since the victory?" Portia teased. "Nice article. A bit generic. The picture isn't an exclusive though. It dates a few year back, doesn't it?"

Effie pouted when Portia showed her the actual picture so he figured she didn't approve.

"Let me guess. Not your good profile." he taunted.

She turned the magazine so he could see. It was a picture from a red carpet event as far as he could tell. She was wearing a feathery dress that made her look like a poultry of some kind.

"Why did they use a picture of Lyssa and I?" she frowned. "And she is actually quoted in this article…"

"All nice things, though." Portia pointed out.

"Which is not the point." she retorted. "She should have told me they had approached her to talk about me. How rude. Why, I must let Mother know… Someone is going to get lectured about manners and, for once, it won't be me."

"You're sure you want to open that can of worms?" he snorted.

As far as he could tell, every time she had any form of contact with her mother, it upset her. And that was when he was there to witness it, he was away the longest part of the year.

"It wasn't what I wanted to show you anyway." the stylist was quick in interrupting. She flickered a few pages forward and handed the magazine back to Effie. "Here. The fifty hottest men in Panem. Look who came first…"

This time, Cinna not only met but seemed to share his annoyed look.

"Oh." Effie chuckled. "Now it is decided, I am not calling Mother any time soon."

"Why?" he asked, confused. "What does it have to do with anything?"

"Because, according to the Capitol Times, the hottest man in Panem at the moment is Artus Dane." Portia declared with enough excitement that he figured he should have known who that was. "Followed by Finnick Odair, that goes without saying." She beamed at Cinna. "You ranked twelve, by the way. Very honorable."

"Indeed." Cinna laughed, toasting her with his cocktail.

Effie was skimming the list and eventually tapped the page with her finger. "Here you are, Haymitch! Forty-fifth. It is not that bad."

"It's on fifty." he deadpanned, not quite caring one way or another.

"True, true…" Effie winced, clearing her throat, glancing everywhere but at him. "This list is complete bogus anyway. Artus is certainly not hotter than Finnick Odair. And you are much more handsome than Brutus."

"Brutus ranked before me?" He couldn't help but scorn.

"See? Complete bogus." she nodded, closing the magazine and putting it aside. The cheer in her voice was fake and she was nervous. She might have everyone else fooled but he knew better. She was trying to distract him from the main point. "Is anyone hungry? We should eat soon. We have those interviews this afternoon and…"

"Who's Artus Dane?" he insisted. "What does he have to do with your mom?"

"You don't know?" Portia exclaimed with wide eyes, obviously flabbergasted. The elbow Effie nudged her with was not discreet but it must have worked because the stylist swiftly changed course. "Of course, you do not. Why would you? He is nothing special, really. Quite a boring man, isn't he, Cinna?"

Cinna glanced at him and then lifted both hands in surrender, before getting on his feet. "I am not getting in the middle of this. I will go check on the children."

"Getting in the middle of what?" Haymitch scowled but Cinna fled the room without a glance back. He stared at Effie – who wouldn't meet his eyes – and then at Portia who was looking at the door, obviously dying to make her own escape. "Alright, what's going on? Who's that guy?"

There was a long deadly silence and then Effie sighed. "It is not a big deal."

"You're making it into a big deal." he grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"He is an ex-boyfriend." she confessed finally. "We went out for a few months."

To be honest, he had been expecting it but he still didn't see what the problem was so he shrugged. "A few months?"

"A year." she amended. "A year and a half. I did not keep an exact count. Portia, do you want a cigarette? I am dying for a cigarette. Let's go outside for a little…"

Effie not keeping exact count was a lie if he ever heard one. And she was still jumpy.

"When?" he asked before she could stand up and bolt.

Portia was already halfway out of her seat, she glanced at Effie and resolutely sat back down in a show of friendly support that nobody needed.

Haymitch was irritated by all the walking on eggshells. What did he care if she had a year long boyfriend once upon a time? They were having sex. That was it. It wasn't anything more than that. No need for… this, whatever it was she was trying to avoid. There was nothing to avoid.

"I cannot quite remember." Effie lied with a big bright smile. "A few years ago."

"How long is a few years ago?" he insisted, narrowing his eyes at her.

They weren't exclusive. Not really. If they wanted to sleep with someone else, of course, they could do it. He had just not bothered in a very, very long time and he had thought she hadn't either. But perhaps she had been having boyfriends while he was back in Twelve. Which she was perfectly allowed to do. Absolutely. Why not?

She still didn't need to walk on eggshells like she expected him to be jealous.

He wasn't.

He wouldn't be.

They were both free.

He was annoyed by her behavior not by the facts. That was it.

"Five." she admitted.

"Five." he repeated, a growl in his voice. Seventieth Hunger Games then. And a year and half? She had been cheating on that guy with him then. "And how come Portia knows about it? You weren't friends then. He was already on the hottest guys list five years ago?"

"He aged well." the stylist piped in, after clearing her throat. "Like great wine. Although he was already good looking, five years ago. You made a beautiful couple."

"Thank you." Effie answered, a bit terse.

"And I know because it was in every newspaper, Haymitch." Portia added. "Artus Dane is a very wealthy man, he is a high profile bachelor. It would have been the dream wed…" The stylist cut herself off and shot Effie a guilty look. "I think Cinna is calling me."

"I cannot hear anything." his escort countered.

"Listen more closely." Portia replied, fleeing out of the room so fast Haymitch barely had time to blink.

"Wedding." he spat, once they were alone. "That's what she was going to say. Wedding."

She sighed, stood up and stormed out as if she had any right to be irritated. She snatched her purse from the hallway as she walked to the staircase that led to the roof, with him hot on her heels.

"I do not see how it is any of your business." she snapped, pushing the door open. The air was cold out there, despite the Capitol's regulated weather and it shocked him a little.

Peeta was leaning against the wall, watching the view. He took one look at them and wisely scampered back inside without saying a word.

"You were engaged while you were fucking me and that's none of my business?" he snarled.

"Is it?" she challenged.

For a moment, they glared at each other.

She was the first one to look away. She fished her cigarettes from her purse and locked one between her lips. Her silver lighter wouldn't work, which made her mutter low obscenities under her breath. With a roll of his eyes, he took out the matches he always kept in his pocket just for that sort of occasions and cracked one. She shot him a grateful glance when he lit her cigarette for her.

She took a long drag before speaking again, not quite looking at him. "I have been engaged three times. You know that."

It sounded like a rebuke, like he should have known better than question her on her past relationships. And he should have probably.

He had heard about her failed engagements. Of course, he had. She was a public figure and her private affairs were on display just as much as his were. But when it came to engagements and boyfriends, he had always preferred to turn a deaf ear.

"You've been engaged three times and you've been sleeping with me the whole time." he scoffed. "What does it say about you?"

"A lot, probably." she deadpanned, patting her orange wig with her free hand. "He was my last boyfriend, there was no one else but you after him. If you are wondering."

"I'm not." he snapped. "Don't care what you do."

"Of course." she hummed, bringing her cigarette back to her lips just to hide her smile.

He let it slide.

"So, why the big mystery?" he frowned, leaning on the wall next to her, propping his elbows on the edge.

"Because I wanted to avoid a scene." she sighed. "For someone who does not care, you are awfully possessive."

"Your ex is the hottest guy in Panem apparently." he muttered. "Don't see why I'd make a scene." He shot her a mild glare. "I'm not possessive."

"You are." she countered with a smile. "But, do not worry, I happen to like it this way." She shrugged a little. "It was a set up. My mother introduced us. It pleased her and I was not terribly unhappy."

He regretted not having snatched a bottle of liquor on the way up because he needed something to focus on that wasn't her and their complicated relationship. He stole her cigarette instead. He took a drag and made a face because he hated smoking. Just like she hated whiskey. It didn't stop her from downing his drink from time to time. They had developed a habit of sharing their poisons. "Nice guy?" He didn't even know why he was asking.

He handed the cigarette back.

She took it with hesitant fingers.

"Generous." she answered, cautious. "Wealthy. Older. Funny."

"Seems like your type." he commented, careful to keep his voice flat. "You loved him?"

There was venom in there and he wasn't quite sure where it came from.

She had been irritated before but she just looked calm now, almost sad.

"That is a stupid question." she whispered. "And it is beneath you."

"How is it stupid?" he sneered.

"You cannot love two men at once, Haymitch." she snapped. "At least, I cannot."

That shut him up.

What she wasn't quite saying wasn't lost on him.

"Won't ask you why you break it up." he warned.

"Good." she hissed. "I would not tell you anyway."

They stood there in silence for a while, pretending to watch the bustling city lying at their feet. She handed him the cigarette from time to time and he took a drag just to taste her lipstick.

"So, he's hotter than me." he said, after a long time. They were missing lunch, he figured, and she would usher him back down to change for their interviews soon.

"According to Capitol Times." she teased.

"And according to you?" he prompted, a bit embarrassed and absolutely irritated with himself for needing the reassurance. He was a mess. The whole thing was a mess.

He blamed the Tour and the kids who were driving him crazy.

"You are manly. I find that hot." she replied, flawlessly failing to answer the question.

"Manly." he repeated, not quite sure how to take that.

"Haymitch, like most men in the Capitol, he waxes." she sighed. "And like most suitable marriage prospects, he is so respectful in bed that he is boring. I have been faking orgasms for the most part of that relationship. I had to be the perfect lady all the time. I would never have let him see me without my wig or my make-up because he would never have let me see him without his. I made fun of a government official once and he frowned so hard I kept expecting Peacekeepers to arrest me. I did not trust him. Should I continue or may I stop here?"

He got what she was saying but it was a bit too heavy and meaningful for his taste. It really wasn't the right time for them to revisit the nature of their relationship.

She wasn't the only one who could play dumb.

He lifted his eyebrows with a smug smirk. "So, what you're saying is… I'm hotter."

She stared at him, shook her head and then let out a deep sigh. "Fine. You are hotter."

"Hotter than Brutus?" he joked.

She chuckled and crushed the bud of her cigarette on the wall before sauntering back inside.

"That's a fight for another time, darling." she called over her shoulder.

And helpless to do anything but, he followed her inside anyway.