prompt : haymitch calls katniss princess and a tipsy effie saying something like "i thought i was your princess"

Titles

Haymitch saw Effie's shoulders slouching a little in the corner of his eyes but he didn't stop glaring at Katniss. In the armchair, Peeta folded his arms over his chest and looked down. The stylists were obviously uncomfortable and a tensed silence fell on the living-room's car.

This Tour was one the most stressing experience of his life and he had faced a Quarter Quell. They had to cut it, there was no alternative. It wasn't just about Panem and ideas of revolution. Haymitch had more pressing concerns: like making sure they didn't all end up like Seneca Crane.

And Katniss wasn't playing her part well enough. That was as simple as that. She might not like to hear it but someone had to say it and since Cinna coddled her and Effie's word wasn't good enough for the kid…

"Maybe we should talk about that tomorrow…" Cinna suggested calmly, as the girl glared right back. "It's late and we all had a bit too much to drink…"

"Clearly not enough." Effie sighed, standing up in a ruffle of fabric.

His eyes tracked her as she walked across the room to refill her glass. It was her fourth margarita of the night – she had been matching Portia glass for glass – and it was way more than she usually drank in public.

She was annoyed, he figured, because they had been having a nice enough evening, talking about things that didn't revolve around the Tour or the Games. But they would reach Ten in the morning and he was anxious to not repeat the Eleven fiasco.

"Does anyone want anything?" she offered in a cheerful voice. "Haymitch, do take another whiskey, you clearly need to unwind."

She was also tipsy.

"See, sweetheart, when you're trying to get me drunk, we all know you had too much." he snorted. "Lay off a little."

"Do not ruin my fun." she huffed. "You are being rude." She eyed him up and down, lips pursed and head tilted to the side. "And not in the way I like…"

Portia hid her chuckles in her glass, Peeta's eyes widened in horror-struck realization, Katniss looked puzzled but otherwise clueless, and Cinna cleared his throat.

"I'm doing what I can." Katniss grumbled. "I would like to see you…"

"But it's not about me." he scorned. "Been there, done that. It's all about you now."

"Well, I've kissed him!" the girl retorted, almost shouting. "I'm not shoving my tongue down his throat!"

"Katniss, indoor voice." Effie rebuked. "Ladies do not shout like common fishmongers."

"That's what they want!" Haymitch snapped back, raising his own voice. "I'm not asking you to mean it. I'm asking you to stop being a prude and to give them a good show, princess."

He wasn't surprised when Katniss stormed out with a furious scowl on her face. He did roll his eyes when Peeta followed with a mild glare in his direction and he slumped further into his chair when both Portia and Cinna said their goodnights with open disapproval.

Of course, he was the bad guy here.

Next time he would try sneaking the kids some tequila. Maybe it would help loosen them up a little.

"Going to lecture me?" he asked, too aware that Effie was still standing there, sipping from her margarita and studying him.

There was a pout he knew very well on her lips. "I thought I was your princess."

With a sigh, he hauled himself out of the armchair. She watched him from under her fake eyelashes and she immediately placed a hand on his chest when he came within reach, not quite fondling but certainly feeling him up.

"You're drunk, that's what you are." he snorted, stealing the glass from her hand and downing it in one go. "And I ain't carrying you back to your room so you better stop now."

The pout turned into a provocative grin. "But you do so love to toss me on my bed…"

"Sure do, Princess." he smirked, leaning around her to put the glass down on the cart. He turned serious though. "You slip when you're drunk. I need your head one hundred percent in the game, sweetheart. Now's not the time to make mistakes… "

She cupped his cheek, her thumb running on his mouth, and he made a note to tell her again the next morning when her head would be clearer.

"You are too hard on the girl." she declared and she sounded more lucid than he had expected. He wondered if she was simply playing at being tipsy. He wouldn't put it past her and her need to hide behind various masks. She played parts because that was what was expected of her. He snorted his annoyance and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, forcing her hand away from his face. She let out a sigh. "Victory Tour is about enjoying the victory, Haymitch. They should…"

"Spare me the bullshit." he sneered. "No victor ever enjoyed this shit…"

"Who is slipping now?" she taunted but shook her head before he could reply and leaned against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "You are right. The last glass was too much."

"Told you." he grumbled with great pleasure, hugging her back by reflex.

Embracing like that wasn't exactly their thing but he couldn't deny it felt… good.

"I am so tired…" she whispered and he doubted it was a comment about her physical state. It was taxing. The whole thing… Crane's death hanging over their heads like a sword of Damocles… The state of the Districts… The Peacekeepers poking their backs with their guns…

"Bed, sweetheart." he commanded, nudging her.

She tightened her grip instead of stepping away.

"Together?" she asked, sounding strangely vulnerable. Alcohol often did that to her. It made her moody. Either she was euphoric or depressed. There was no middle ground with her.

"Yeah." He gave in because the prospect of going to sleep alone in a cold bed wasn't an attractive one. "Together. Works for me."

She propped her chin on his shoulder, a bit more cheerful. "And I am your princess?"

"Are you drunk or pretending to be drunk?" he mocked and then rolled his eyes. "You're my princess. There. Happy?"

She let out a low hum. "Not quite but with fewer clothes and a good mattress it could be arranged…"

He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

She was batshit crazy.

And he wouldn't have her any other way.