Prompt for HaDS : at an older age ( 40 or 45 something ) Effie thinks shes not that attractive anymore yet Men still flirt all the time with effie and Haymitch still gets kinda jealous after all their years together

The Rude Florist

"Lovely flowers for a lovely lady." the guy behind the booth declared, flashing Effie a bright smile that she answered in kind.

Haymitch's grip tightened on the grocery bags. He usually liked market day well enough, even if that meant Effie would drag him from booth to booth and force him to carry everything she bought. But that florist had been irritating him as soon as she had made a beeline to the colorful flowers on display.

The man was all smiles and winks and jokes.

"You mind?" Haymitch snapped, wrapping his free arm around her waist possessively.

She pursed her lips at him, grabbed the bunch of flowers she had paid for, profusely apologized and thanked the man and then clucked her tongue at him as soon as they had stepped away. "Why did you have to be so rude? Poor man."

"Ask for his number, why don't you?" he grumbled. "He's lucky I didn't punch him. Some nerves, he has, that guy. I was right there. Who flirts with a man's wife when her husband's standing right there?"

"Perhaps a wife and a husband who are not married and do not have wedding bands on their fingers?" she replied innocently. She didn't pretend to be amused for long, though. She rolled her eyes. "Honestly. There is no reason for you to be jealous. He wasn't flirting with me."

Ten years. She had been living in Twelve with him for almost ten years.

They shouldn't need wedding bands.

People should know by now.

After all, it had made quite the scandal at first. The last breathing escort and the Quell victor.

Everyone knew they were together and they should respect it.

"Don't play coy." he muttered. "He's been ogling you as soon as he saw you."

The man had lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

And he got why, he really did… She was beautiful and classy and lovely…

But she was his and random florists shouldn't think themselves allowed to flirt with her.

"I am forty-five, Haymitch." she scoffed. "Men do not ogle me anymore."

"You're gorgeous." he countered automatically, like always when she complained about being old. It was genuine. He did think it. But he had learned to oppose that argument to any remark about her age like a pavlovian response. He shook his head. "He was flirting with you. In front of me."

It was almost a growl and, this time, when she rolled her eyes, it was with some fondness. "If you say so, darling"

She was humoring him and he hated it when she did that.

But it also meant he had the last word so he would take it.

It wasn't something to be taken for granted those days.