Prompt : Can I prompt something? One evening Haymitch doesn't want to have sex with Effie. Maybe he's tired or doesn't feel well and Effie's weak side appears because she's afraid of losing him or not being attractive enough anymore? Could that work?

Of Jealousy, Headaches & Repetition

As soon as they were back in the penthouse, Effie went straight for the liquor cart. She hadn't drunk nearly enough to drown the boredom of that party. The gap between a victor's victory and their crowning was always the worst because mentors and escorts needed to be on camera at all times to fill the void. Effie didn't usually mind it so much because with the pressure of finding sponsors off their shoulders, they could actually relax a little. She still insisted on using those parties as a way to make contacts for the next season but she wasn't as obsessed with what Haymitch dubbed sponsors hunting as earlier in the Games.

Tonight though… Tonight had been…

"That party was exhausting." she declared, fixing herself a cocktail while Haymitch dropped on the couch with a relieved sigh.

"Don't know, sweetheart." he grumbled. "Thought you were having fun with that woman. I was expecting to see her hand disappear under your dress any second. Be a nice girl, give me a drink."

She shot him an annoyed glance as she swallowed the olive she had just plopped into her cocktail. The woman he was referring to had been drunk and very friendly. She also happened to be rich and she sometimes sponsored outer Districts so Effie hadn't seen the wrong in making herself a little available. He knew it was all it had been, too. She suspected that, otherwise, he would have cut in while it was happening. He had glowered in his corner instead, his eyes tracking the woman's every move, particularly when her hand had landed on Effie's thigh.

"Don't you think you had enough?" she challenged.

He wasn't drunk – which she counted as a victory – but he was certainly buzzed. His eyes were slightly glassy and, if he seemed to be lucid enough, she wasn't entirely fooled. If he had been watching her at the party, she had been watching him and she knew exactly how far in his drinks he was.

"Give me a break." he spat. "I paced myself 'cause that woman was all over you."

She lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "And you think I couldn't have handled her?"

"Oh, I know you can handle her…" he sulked. "Not quite sure how you wantedto handle her though. You seemed to like her well enough."

This time, she didn't bother hiding her smile. "Do I detect a touch of jealousy?"

"No." he denied immediately. "I just don't like you going with sponsors. You know the drill."

She did. Escorts who went out with notorious sponsors tended to be considered up for grab in exchange for nice round checks, the same way some victors were. Most District teams played it that way but Haymitch was against it. It hadn't stopped her from doing it once or twice but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Is it me sleeping with sponsors you object to or me sleeping with women, I wonder…" she hummed, hiding her grin behind her glass.

"Can't say I care one way or another." he shrugged.

The hard edge in his voice told her differently though. He sometimes had fits of possessiveness that ended with her bent over the closest piece of furniture, bruises shaped like fingers on her skin and bite marks in the most unlikely places. She wouldn't have been against a good rough tumble between the sheets that night. It would wash away the memory of the boring party and save the evening from being a complete waste.

"Most men would pay to watch their partner playing with another women." she remarked with a purposefully detached tone. She knew what buttons to press to get the kind of reaction she wanted. Haymitch wasn't into threesomes and he wasn't into voyeurism either. Anything that involved sharing was out of the question. If he took a woman to bed, that woman was his and his alone until the deed was done. "Your friend Chaff for one… Why, let's just say we have a friend in common and…"

"Chaff can do what he wants." he cut her off. "You can do what you want. Just don't drag me into it."

She pouted because he was far too calm and clearly not taking her bait. She finished her drink and forgot any idea about being subtle. She placed her glass down on the cart and marched to the couch, pushing his crossed leg off his knee so she could straddle his lap, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. As she had expected, his hands shot to her waist.

"You forgot my whiskey, sweetheart." he smirked.

"Wouldn't you have cared at all if I had followed her to the ladies like she wanted me to?" she insisted.

A flash of… something passed in his eyes but it was gone before she could decide if it was jealousy or anger.

"We're not exclusive." he reminded her, a growl in his voice. "Why would I care?"

His hands were still on her hips and he wasn't making any effort to either take the dress off her or get her to move. He would usually have her rocking herself on him by now.

Her pout deepened. "If I knew another woman was about to give you a blow job, I would claw her eyes out. Exclusive or not."

He tilted his head to the side, clearly amused by this side of her.

He could be very possessive but so could she.

Couple or no couple, friends with benefits or not… There were boundaries not to cross in front of her.

"So certain she was going to go down on you, Princess…" he taunted. "Seemed more like the kind to demand you eat her out to me."

"Quid pro quo." she dismissed with a wave of her hand.

She moved her hips back and front, rubbing herself on him. His fingers tightened on her waist, stopping her movements.

He shook his head. "Not tonight."

That was a first and it shocked her.

Not only had he never refused her so flatly before, she wasn't exactly used to her offer for sex being rejected.

She blinked and immediately felt herself flushing hard under the make-up.

"Oh." she said, looking anywhere but at him. The apparent lack of jealousy, the show of possessiveness she hadn't been able to induce… Perhaps the looks at the party had been about concern over what having sex with a sponsor would do to their reputation and not something more private. Perhaps he really didn't care about what she did and with whom. In her experience, it was never good when a man declined sex. It usually meant it was time for her to break it before she got dumped for another woman. "I see."

She cleared her throat and stood up, smoothing her dress with nervous fingers that kept twitching.

"Effie…" he sighed.

Her name was the last straw.

He never called her Effie. She was sweetheart or princess or darling or whatever nickname he had chosen that day, she was Trinket if he was angry or annoyed… But Effie was left for serious conversations.

She went back to the liquor cart, deciding she needed another drink. And perhaps a cigarette later on if she could locate her packet – that was the problem with being an occasional smoker, she tended to misplace her cigarettes.

She strangled the neck of the tequila bottle when she poured herself some. She heard him stand up but she didn't pay him any attention. Maybe he wanted his whiskey or maybe he would leave in an uncharacteristic show of manner.

Obviously, she wasn't expecting his arms to sneak around her waist. She hated herself for the brief second when she leaned against his chest out of reflex before tensing and trying to push him away.

"Come on." he grumbled. "Don't be like that. I'll eat you out if you want."

She gasped, not quite certain if she was more shocked or humiliated. She still struggled to get free of his grasp.

"Why, it is too good of you." she snapped. "I do not need pity sex, Haymitch. If you are bored or if you do not find me attractive enough anymore, it is perfectly fine. Truth be told, I was thinking it had been going on for too long myself. Casual affairs are all well and good but they do tend to become repetitive after a while. Let's agree to bury it and never talk about it again so we can remain friends."

She was turned around and pinned to the wall next to the cart.

"Repetitive?" he growled. "You want to end it?"

She jutted her chin in the air. "You just ended it."

"Why? 'Cause I said I don't want to fuck you tonight?" he scowled.

"Well, if you do not want me…" she hissed.

She shoved him away but he didn't move an inch. She hated how strong he was – she hated how much she loved it. It always thrilled her when he pushed her against a wall and kept her there even as she pretended to struggle free. He would never have forced her into anything she didn't want and she trusted him to know the difference.

She wasn't playing at the moment but unlike other times, he wasn't trying to get under her skirt either. He was just keeping her in place, forcing her to face him.

"Never said I didn't want you. You just said you didn't want me." he spat. "Stop acting like a hysterical bitch."

"Won't you, at least, have the graciousness of allowing me to save face? I know you are not a gentleman but, truly, Haymitch…" Tears burned her eyes but she blinked them away through sheer force of will. "It does not matter if you do not find me attractive anymore." she insisted "Plenty of others will."

"I never said that!" He raised his voice in annoyance. "You're the one who's reading into this…"

"You do not want to have sex with me, it looks pretty straightforward to me." she snapped.

"I've got a fucking headache!" he retorted. "And all the shouting isn't helping!" He took a breath and shook his head before taking a step back, letting her go free. "You know what? Fuck this. You're a pain."

He turned to the liquor cart and grabbed the whiskey bottle, leaving her to frown at him.

"A headache?" she asked uncertainly.

"Wonder where it comes from…" he deadpanned. "Can't be from your shrill voice…"

"Oh, stop it!" she huffed, whacking his arm and snatching away the glass of whiskey before he could take a sip. "Whiskey won't help if you have a headache. You need pills. I have some in my room."

"That's a ploy to seduce me?" he mocked and then rolled his eyes. "Ah, no, forgot… I'm too… repetitive."

"Do not be petty." she chided him. "I thought…"

"Yeah, I know what you thought." he taunted. "All that hairspray is attacking your brain. Stupid."

She pursed her lips in irritation but stared at something far over his shoulder rather than meeting his eyes. "People grow bored. You cannot fault me for assuming."

"Sure, I can." he replied. "You're hot, Effie. How do you grow bored of a hot willing woman?"

"You find another hot willing woman, preferably younger, with whom you have all sort of exciting sex." she scowled.

He grabbed her chin and tilted her head up until she finally relented and met his gaze. "The sex we have is exciting enough for me. And you're young enough." He snorted more gently and pressed a brief kiss against her neck. "Capitols are stupid."

She didn't ask what he meant by that because it was bordering a bit too much on feelings and they were always careful to stay on the right side of the line on that front. They never talked about being attached or about what they potentially felt. Effie knew better than to voice her own feelings. She knew he must have an inkling but she also knew any hint would send him running.

And she wanted to avoid that.

"I will get you some aspirin." she declared, squeezing his wrist on her way past him to the door. "Stay away from the alcohol."

She had no hope that instruction would be fulfilled but she smiled anyway.

She couldn't help it.