Prompt : Your detailed answer about Hayffie having sex in Thirteen got me. Can I prompt something where they discuss it and decide to fuck the risks. Sorry for this bad pun. ;)

The detailed answer was probably about how in my hc contraception isn't allowed in 13 due to their fertility problems and hayffie's subsequent incapacity to stick to abstinence and discussing their options ;)

Fuck The Risks

Effie was avoiding him.

It wasn't a puzzle he really had time to solve, not with Katniss to coach into being the Mockingjay and the war raging throughout Panem. He figured she was angry. About him lying to her. About him having her kidnapped and brought to Thirteen without having asked first. About him failing to rescue some of their kids. About the way he had chosen to do things. About… A lot of things she was probably right to be angry with him over.

She was cordial and professional when they needed to work on Katniss' propos or stuff like that and she didn't go out of her way not to be alone with him – they had shared a few quick lunches, breakfasts or dinners – but she never sought him out in his room and she never took him up of his half-hearted suggestions that they could explore storage cupboards around the District. Once or twice, when they had been working alone in Plutarch's office or in the shooting studio, he had ventured a caress on her cheek or neck… Only for it to be brushed off or ignored.

She was avoiding him.

And it bothered him.

The weeks he had spent in a cell, riding off the withdrawal effects, had been hell. And he was aware he didn't look exactly his best as a consequence. But he needed her. He needed her badly. He couldn't have liquor, he was forbidden from carrying his knife around… She was the only derivative he had left.

And, sure, he could have found someone else – there were plenty of refugee women who looked interested lately – but he didn't want anyone else.

She was the only one for him.

How screwed up as it was and how panicky as it made him feel.

He had thought she would get over it, at first. He had thought that if he allowed her some space, she would eventually decide she was done sulking and approach him because that was how they worked. He had thought she would wake up one day and realize that their usual habit of resolving arguments by fucking each other brainless was a much better option than spending nights apart in cold narrow beds.

Clearly, he had been wrong.

Which was why he was standing in front of her door in the dead of night, awkwardly shuffling his weight from one foot to the other, not quite sure how to proceed. His usual approach would have been to storm in, kiss her silent and have his way with her but, somehow, he sensed it wouldn't go down well.

This was serious.

The kind of serious that might finally break them – because, let's face it, he had done plenty of stuff that had infuriated her over the years but the rebellion took the cake.

A part of him was desperate to pretend that he didn't care, that Effie was just an easy way to get sex that didn't involve work or his right hand… Another part of him, the lucid part that didn't like self-delusion, had realized that it was a tad more complicated than that and that he really, really didn't want to lose her.

Aware that he couldn't wait in the corridor forever, he knocked on the door with a wince – because knocking on her door, was that what he was reduced to?

He didn't know what sort of strings Plutarch had pulled to delay her getting a roommate when they were forced to share a compartment but he was grateful for it. He wouldn't have liked doing any of that in front of a curious audience.

It took her a long time to get to the door and, for a moment, he listened to the noise inside and let his imagination run wild. Maybe she had someone else in there. Maybe she had found a replacement for him already. He wouldn't have been surprised. She liked her sex and…

"Haymitch?" she frowned, when the door was slid open a crack. She was partially hiding behind it but he caught a flash of skin. She didn't have pants on. "Is there a problem?"

"Fuck, yeah, there's a problem." he snarled, forcing his way through the door. His hands had clenched into fists and he was eager to punch whoever she had in there, whoever had taken liberties with his… Whatever. Her compartment was empty. His eyes darted to the closed bathroom door. "Is he hiding in there?" he sneered. "Or is it a she?"

He was ready to punch the person either way.

"What in Panem are you talking about?" she hissed, clearly irritated by his tone.

She locked the door shut and turned around to face him and he finally got his first good look at her. Standard grey tank top, faded grey panties that were frayed on one side and thick woolen socks pulled up as high as they would go. Her hair had been loosely braided for the night and strands were poking out. Not sexy but… adorable.

As soon as the word floated into his head, he had to fight not to groan.

He was so screwed.

"I'm talking about your new fuck buddy." he growled. "The one I'm gonna beat to a pulp."

She blinked twice, then folded her arms in front of her chest. It was hard not to notice her nipples were peaking from the cold.

"Again I feel compel to ask… What in Panem are you talking about?" she repeated.

"Look." he said firmly, taking a step closer to her. "You're mad. I get it."

"I am not mad. Why would I be mad?" she denied, sounding confused. She tilted her head suddenly, lips pursed and narrowed eyes. "What did you do, now, that I should be mad about?"

He faltered.

She sounded honest. It wasn't her I'm-pretending-not-to-know-what-you're-talking-about-just-to-annoy-you-further face… She looked genuinely puzzled.

"You've got no new fuck buddy?" he asked, a bit lost himself now.

"Of course not!" she scoffed. "Who do you take me for? We…" She abruptly fell silent and cleared her throat. "You are perfectly aware I have not been seeing anyone but you for a while now. Not that we are exclusive but…"

"Yeah." he cut in before she could say any more. "Yeah, we are, okay? We are. Don't go and fuck anyone else."

She studied him for a while and then snorted. "Or you will beat them to a pulp?"

"Exactly." he nodded with relief, glad that they understood each other at last.

She rubbed her upper arms distractedly, probably trying to keep warm. "Are you drunk? You sound drunk."

He chuckled and marched on her, not leaving her time to protest before he kissed her. She responded to the kiss eagerly and he walked her backward until he had her pinned to the metal door. His hand ran on her thigh and hooked her leg up as he deepened the kiss.

"Thought you'd found someone else." he admitted against her lips. "Thought you didn't want me anymore."

"Oh…" she breathed out in understanding – or maybe in pleasure because he hooked her leg higher and their bodies were aligned and… "Oh." She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back. "No, it is not…"

"Good." he interrupted, rubbing himself against her. "All I need to know."

"No, we need to stop." she argued, pushing on his chest.

He nuzzled her neck. "No, we don't."

"Yes, we do." she snapped. "Stop."

Her tone added to her hands firmly planted on his chest made his lusty mood disappear very quickly. He stepped back, hurt and confused.

"The fuck is this?" he grumbled. "You're on a sex strike? So what… You want me to apologize 'cause I didn't tell you that..."

"Oh, would you stop." she sighed dramatically. "It has nothing to do with us. Come to bed, it is far too cold to be standing around."

And, as if it made any sense at all, she climbed back onto the bunk bed and buried herself under the covers.

"Ever heard of mixed signals, sweetheart?" he scoffed.

"Come here, Haymitch." she ordered.

He rebuked against the command but it was cold and, if she was ready to accept him in her bed, it couldn't be that bad.

He worked on the shoelaces of his boots, shooting her an annoyed glance. "So you don't wanna fuck but it's got nothing to do with us. How does that work exactly?"

Only her eyes were peeking out from under the blankets fort she had going on her bed – he wasn't sure where she had found the extra covers and he wasn't sure he wanted to know either: plausible deniability.

"I do not have condoms." she stated.

He stood up and awkwardly climbed into the bunk bed with her, rearranging the covers around them both.

"We haven't been using condoms in years." he objected, automatically wrapping his arm around her shoulders when she snuggled close to his side. She was freezing and her feet were like ice cubes.

"Yes, but I am not on the pill anymore." she explained. "I asked for contraceptives in the hospital and they looked at me as if…" She shook her head. "They have fertility problems here."

"Yeah, so what?" he frowned. "That's their problem, not ours. I don't get how…"

"Precisely – as I pointed out a little more diplomatically." she huffed. "It appears contraceptive methods as well as any form of abortion measures are forbidden by law. Using contraception is a capital crime."

"You're fucking kidding me…" he spat. But he wasn't quite surprised. Thirteen was a military District and their population was thin. They would need to replenish the stock of soldiers before long if they wanted to survive.

"I wish I was." she lamented. "I am sorry, Haymitch, I did not mean to make you feel as if I did not want you anymore… I simply thought avoiding temptation would be best. I know you have your rules about this and there are not bad rules to follow so…"

He automatically started playing with her hair, loosening the braid even more, in an instinctive comforting response to the anguish in her voice.

"You should just have explained." he rebuked.

"I thought you knew." she shrugged.

He gave it a second and then groaned when he realized the implications. "You're fucking telling me we can't do anything as long as we're here?"

He had a sudden flash of the war dragging on forever, of years spent unable to touch each other…

"Well… We can certainly do things…" she teased. Her hand trailed down his chest under the blankets and toyed with his belt buckle. "We will just have to be creative and…"

"You're barren." he cut her off. If her recoil was to be believed, he had been a bit too brutal. "Shit. Not how… I just meant… We're safe on that front, yeah?"

She was on the pill but it was mostly to assuage his own panic at the idea of knocking up anyone, wasn't it? He was pretty sure that…

"I am not barren." she hissed, obviously insulted. "I have a medical condition that would make it very difficult for me to get pregnant without a fertility treatment or some help. And even then, it would be no guarantee of success. The chances of me getting pregnant are slim but not inexistent. The chances of me carrying to term without proper medical care are next to zero. So, no, we are not entirely safe."

He sighed but didn't answer immediately. She settled back against his side after a moment, still irritated but apparently happy enough to cuddle close to his warm body. How she had survived so long without him to warm her up when she was so cold, he didn't know.

"Slim." he repeated after a few minutes.

"Slim." she confirmed.

He petted her hair distractedly, staring at the grey ceiling. "What are the chances my sperm is still worth anything anyway? I'm probably shooting blank."

"So you want to risk slim and probably?" She sounded stunned by that.

"I don't want a kid." he replied defensively, as if it was what she had accused him of. "I just… I really fucking need you. I miss you." He added the last part in an awkward mumble.

She brushed her fingertips against his cheek, gently nudging him to look at her.

"You can have me." she promised. "There are ways to have fun without penetration… Hand jobs and oral amongst others. You love those." He made a face. He loved those but that wasn't what he needed. What he wanted, needed, was to lose himself in her. It wasn't just the physical release he was after. She must have understood because her face softened. "We could… There is always anal. It is not the same thing and I know you are not keen on it but…"

"What if I pull out?" he cut her off. "Chances of you getting pregnant are slim, I probably shoot blank, so if I pull out…"

"There would still be a risk, it is not a suitable equivalent to contraceptive methods." she warned, drumming her fingers on his stomach in a distracted fashion. She propped her chin on his shoulder. "I am not against it but you need to be very sure it is a risk you want to take."

The risk seemed almost nonexistent.

The alcohol abuse alone…

He stared at her, quietly calculating. "We need to be careful how we do it."

"Some positions would be out of the question, yes." she hummed. "Missionary and its variants first and foremost." She flashed him a teasing grin. "It means I get to be on top more often. Are you sure you will be alright with that?"

He rolled his eyes at her and pulled her over him with a smug smirk. "You're sure you can handle it?"

She licked her lips and straddled his hips, lazily rocking on him.

"Why, darling… Why don't we find out?" she challenged.

It was a challenge he was happy to take her on.