Prompt: normally haymitch is the one getting teased by chaff and finnick so how about a fic where either chaff or finnick a woman problem and getting teases( and u can make up anything els )

Be warned that victors prostitution is discussed in here =)

Of Pools, Cheating And Experts

Haymitch's eyes wandered around the big stone pillars that supported the high ceiling, not quite happy with all the areas left in shadows. The only source of light came from the pool itself and it made for an eerie atmosphere he wasn't too fond of. It made him feel claustrophobic, even with the far wall being all glass and giving the vertiginous feeling that the pool was giving out on empty air.

He had hardly ever been there before. Maybe once or twice after his victory, with another victor his age who had wanted to explore every floor of the Games Compound… There was everything you needed in the compound: a gym, a pool, a spa – or so he had been told, he was even less fond of strangers touching him than he was of baldly lightened gigantic rooms in which anyone could hide and spy…

Eventually, once he was done with his visual inspection of the place and the smell of chlorine had started making his eyes itch, he buried his hands in his pockets and turned his attention to the pool where Finnick had been swimming back and forth for the last two minutes without even addressing his presence.

"You know I've got better things to do than watching you pretend to be a fish all night, yeah?" he called out, tired of being ignored.

Finnick shot him a grin over his shoulder but didn't stop swimming. "Yes? What?"

"Question would be who actually." he snorted.

When Finnick had called to ask him to join him at the pool, he and Effie had been in the middle of a very heated make-out session that he was pretty sure would have ended up with them having their way with each other right there on the couch. Clothes hadn't flown yet but his hand had been far up under her dress and hers had been very busy opening the shirt he hadn't even bothered to button all the way up again.

He knew how he looked: fingers had repeatedly ran in his hair, his shirt was halfway open, there was a suspicious red mark on his neck and he had lost his jacket and his waistcoat somewhere. He trusted the boy could take a hint.

Finnick had said he needed to talk to him and that it was important so he had come but he still hoped he could get back to Effie before she grew bored of waiting and went to bed. He was pretty sure there had been lacy lingerie under that horrible green dress.

"Who?" the boy teased.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Funny, that sounds like what Effie always says." Finnick laughed, briefly ducking underwater to turn around as he reached the window.

Haymitch slowly walked closer to the bay window, trying to find a spot that wouldn't leave him with his back to a door or an even bigger room. The window seemed like a safe enough place.

"I never listen to what she says. You should know by now." he deadpanned. "So… What's the emergency?"

He glanced through the window. They were high but not that high compared to the penthouse. Outside, it was a typical Games night for the city. If he craned his neck to the left, he could probably guess at the giant screen on the Square that was showing a live feed of the arena. He wondered where they were at now. Last time he had bothered to check, there had been three Careers left, the girl from Eight and a boy from Ten. The Seventy-Third Hunger Games were dragging on and he was pretty sure Crane would put an end to them soon one way or another.

"There aren't any bugs here." Finnick said, almost all the way across the huge pool already.

"Really?" he asked, eyebrows lifting up in interest. He hadn't known that but, then again, Finnick had made it his specialty to find out how many secrets as he could . "How come?"

"Something about reverberations and the water…" the boy dismissed. "There are some in the changing rooms but not in the pool room itself. We can speak freely."

"You're scaring me." Haymitch admitted with a deep sigh. He fished his flask from his back pocket and took a swing. "What did you do?"

Because it came down to that, didn't it? Finnick had been playing the game for long enough to know not to make mistakes but if he had… Well… With Mags at home still recovering from a stroke she would probably never totally get over and his fellow mentor too busy trying to snatch Brutus' attention away from the man's escort… He supposed he was the next best thing when it came to playing mentor.

Finnick stopped swimming in the middle of the pool, his back to him, and then switched so he was floating on his back. Haymitch couldn't shake the vision of a drown corpse out of his mind and took another swing of moonshine.

He would need to fill his flask soon. It was almost empty.

"It's not like that." the boy explained eventually. "It doesn't have to do with the Capitol."

Everything had to do with the Capitol, he almost retorted but it seemed obvious the boy was upset already so…

"Okay." he accepted and sat down, confident now that Peacekeepers wouldn't burst in. "You know another good place without bugs? The roof."

"There's no pool on the roof." Finnick countered.

"There's a garden." he snorted, kicking off his shoes and his socks because it looked like they would be there a while. He rolled up the legs of his pants to his knees and then let his feet dangle in the water. It was warm, of course.

"You hate the garden." the boy retorted, staring at the high ceiling.

The pool had an ancient Rome feel to it. Haymitch wondered if that was the aim.

"So you made me come down here so we can talk about how I hate bright flowers?" he teased. He didn't like the garden, true. It reminded him too much of his arena and he usually stuck to the unadorned part of the roof where it was all grey cement. "Got to say… Might have gotten Chaff involved. You know he's got a green thumb."

It was a well kept secret that Eleven's victor enjoyed some gardening. Chaff had his own vegetable garden at home – half of which he used to distil his own moonshine and it wasn't that bad, less dry than Ripper's and probably safer to drink too.

"I like the pool." Finnick argued.

"You don't say." he mocked. "You like water? Never would have guessed."

The boy tossed him a look that was a mix of exasperation and amusement but his face soon turned serious and he went back to just floating there.

"They made you do it too?" the boy asked.

Haymitch's amusement died down quickly and he took a hesitant sip of his flask. Eight years and it was the first time Finnick had asked that question. He didn't need him to clarify either. There was just the right touch of righteous anger and helplessness in the victor's voice that the tone was familiar.

"A few times." he answered eventually.

He had been lucky. Given how popular and handsome he had been in his youth, he had been very very lucky because when he had won the system hadn't yet been what it now was. The buying and selling had still been reserved to a selected few who usually had more important things to do than leer after victors. Now it was a different story and Finnick had always been far too popular. None of the victors who had come after him had been that popular and that included the Richtson siblings who had won two years in a row. Gloss and Cashmere were an item on that market and it made Haymitch sick to the stomach every time he thought about it. It was bad enough to be sold like a dog but to watch their sibling be humiliated like that…

All in all, compared to others, on that front, he considered himself lucky.

"Why?" Finnick insisted. "Your family…"

The stab of pain was immediate and he instinctively kicked the water, making enough noise to cut the boy off. Four's victor also stopped floating there to switch and start moving again. The boy was quick in the water, deadly.

"Why's Jo still doing it?" he growled. "She's got no one left either, yeah?"

Johanna Mason had quickly become a thorn in the Capitol's flank and he had warned her several times to cut it down. It had started with Blight doing a poor job of preparing her for what the Capitol expected of her and with her stabbing the very important, very influent man who had rented her services for the night. In retaliation, her parents and her brother had been caught in a deadly accident. It hadn't done anything for her snarky attitude, her resentment or her hatred for the Capitol.

"She's got Blight and his family." Finnick replied defensively. "She's got Syln and the other victors from Seven… They've got family too."

And she was their responsibility so it fell on them to make sure she played the game or to pay the price. Not a comfortable place to be in, to be sure. Not that Jo would risk someone's life like that again. At least, he didn't think so.

"There you have it, then." he said, waving his flask to make his point. "There's always something."

"But you didn't have a mentor and there are no other victors in Twelve." the boy insisted.

"Yeah, well…" he shrugged. "After a few years I grew tired of watching people starve 'cause shipments were late or incomplete… Took me a while to catch up."

He didn't like thinking back to that part of his life. It had been a few years after he had won and he hadn't grown used to be lonely all year around yet. It was when he had started a slow but steady descent into a bottle too. When Chaff had finally spelled out what he couldn't even begin to imagine by himself, it had been the nail in the coffin of his sobriety.

Finnick seemed to accept that because he stopped swimming to start floating on his back again, arms spread wide at his side. Haymitch stared at his own feet.

"Have you ever been with a man?" the boy asked.

"I don't swing that way." he answered immediately.

"Not what I asked." Four's victor pointed out.

"But that's what you get." he snarled, swallowing a long mouthful of moonshine. He blocked the memories that wanted to rise up, focusing on what had happened the previous night instead. Effie bent over the dining table, her colorful skirt all over the mahogany, his hands kneading her ass as he pounded into her warmth… He closed his eyes and focused on that. The feel, the smell, the taste of her… "Look, boy, not that this walk down memory lane isn't just fun but…"

"It makes you crazy sometimes, right?" Finnick cut him off. "After an appointment with a client… It's… It makes you crazy, right?"

Haymitch studied the eagle spread form of the boy as he floated around.

"Right." he answered carefully. Thing was, as unbearable as Finnick's position must have been, the kid couldn't afford to give it up. Too many people depended on him. Too many lives. Mags' first and foremost. Then, there was the girl from three years earlier. The tribute he had gone and fell in love with despite everyone's warnings… "How's Annie?"

Because he had a feeling it was all coming down to that.

Maybe the boy had done something reckless like say no to someone influent and maybe he was scared she would be punished for it.

Maybe…

"How long have you been with Effie?" Finnick countered.

And Haymitch coughed so hard he almost chocked. "The fuck are you talking about?"

He couldn't see the boy's face properly but he was certain Four's victor rolled his eyes. "No bugs, Haymitch."

There had been plenty of places without bugs where people had teased him about his escort and it had never been enough for him to forget basic caution.

"We're not together." he spat. "I've told you plenty of times before. We…"

"Okay." Finnick cut him off harshly. "Fine. Lie to me."

Haymitch glared at the kid who had no right to sound so offended by his denial. What a peacock. Arrogant and entitled and…

"We're not together." he repeated.

"Sure." Four's victor snorted. "Sorry I bothered you. You can go now."

Haymitch's eyebrows shot up at the insulting dismissal. Who did the boy think he was treating him like an Avox? Maybe the kid spent too much time in the city and he had half a mind to tell him just that but he caught the flash of pain of Finnick's face and swallowed back his annoyance.

"It's not a thing." he insisted quietly, his eyes automatically roaming around to make certain nobody was hiding behind a pillar. He trusted Finnick. Up to a point. He wasn't sure he trusted even Chaff entirely. Blinded trust wasn't clever in the city and it wasn't clever between victors, best friends or not. The Games were in the way, the Capitol was in the way, and ultimately everyone was always out for themselves. Lately, the only one he completely trusted was his ally and his ally was Effie because she was in his corner, always and without question. She had his back, he had hers and, for now, that was enough.

Terrifying, sure.

But enough.

"Okay." Finnick sulked.

"Why the interest?" he insisted.

The boy shrugged and then pushed on his arms and legs to come closer to the window. "You ever cheated on her?"

"Hard to do since it's not a thing." he scowled, taking his feet out of the water. His toes were wrinkled and he shifted to completely lean against the window. He spread his legs in front of him to let them dry. "It's not cheating, boy." he said quietly after a few minutes. "Doubt your girl sees it like that."

Finnick didn't have a choice and Annie probably knew that by now, assuming he had told her.

Effie went with sponsors from time to time. He pretended he didn't know, pretended he didn't understand when she brought him back a sponsoring pledge that they would usually have no hope of securing. He knew why she did it. She was desperate for a win, not just because of the promoting bullshit she kept sprouting but because watching their kids die was becoming too much. So she went and found sponsors and he pretended he didn't know how. He got angry about it, of course, mainly because once you pushed that door, it was an open invitation to do it again. He also knew there were people she couldn't say no to when they expressed an insistent interest, that it wouldn't have been safe or clever. That made him angry too.

But neither of that was cheating.

And it wasn't cheating either when a Gamemaker made it clear to him that he should entertain a wealthy lonely woman who used to have a crush on him twenty years earlier and fancied revisiting her youth.

Unfortunate was what it was.

Disgusting.

Unfair.

But cheating… The anger usually came out from protectiveness more than jealousy.

"I had a hard one the other day." Finnick confessed, so softly Haymitch could barely hear it over the lapping of the water against the window with every of the boy's movement.

"A man." he deduced given the questions from earlier.

It was almost a whole minute before Finnick confirmed. "Yes."

"He hurt you?" he growled.

Because it didn't matter who the guy was, Haymitch would find him and would make sure he knew better than hurting his kid. That was only a fantasy, of course, he couldn't do that without exposing himself and the kid to more problems but… If it had been serious, they could alert Crane. The Capitol frowned on their special clients damaging their property.

They had had worse Head Gamemakers. Crane was almost decent compared to some.

"Not really." Finnick sighed. "It's just… Jo was in the same hotel. She had an appointment of her own so, after, I went to her room."

He frowned. "And?"

"And it makes you crazy sometimes." Four's victor whispered. "Jo was furious. She's always furious after that kind of things."

"Relatable." he snorted.

"We drank too much." Finnick said. "We figured since the room was paid for, we could empty the mini-bar."

And Haymitch winced, guessing where this was going. "Booze and being upset usually don't mix that well."

The boy suddenly shifted, coming to a standing position, facing the bay window. His feet must have touched the bottom because the water barely reached his shoulders. He placed both hands on the glass and rested his forehead on the cold panel. "I'm lying, we weren't that drunk."

"You slept together." he sighed because he was tired of beating around the bush.

Finnick knocked his forehead against the window twice. "Three times."

"In a single night?" Haymitch whistled. "Now, boy, you're making me feel bad."

Ah, being twenty again…

Two times in one night was a good run for him nowadays.

"Don't mock, it's not funny." Finnick snapped.

He sighed again, took a sip of moonshine and then handed out his flask, leaving his arm outstretched until Finnick caved and moved to grab it. Four's victor mirrored his position, resting his back against the window, a sulk on his face.

"She's my best friend." the boy lamented.

Haymitch wished he was more surprised but, truth be told, he had seen it coming. Hell, Chaff had seen it coming. They had never discussed it but the acknowledgment had always been there in shared looks over the rims of their glasses, behind the kids' back.

Nobody had believed in Johanna Mason during the Seventy-first Hunger Games. Nobody. And yet, on day three, Finnick had taken one look at the meek and terrified looking little girl, had laughed and had claimed that she would be the victor.

And when it had turned out Johanna was neither meek nor terrified, the boy had turned out to be right.

And the two of them had been thick as thieves ever since.

They were young, attractive – and clearly attracted – and they were both going through something terribly hard. It had been a matter of time.

"You love her?" Haymitch asked.

Finnick took a sip of moonshine, probably finishing what was left of it because he had to tip his head back all the way. "She's my best friend."

"Yeah." He made a face. "You better made that clear, then. And gently 'cause that girl… She's been looking at you with stars in her eyes from the start."

"She knows about Annie." Finnick argued. "It's not… I love Annie. I love Jo too but… Annie…"

Annie was vulnerable and needed him to take care of her and the boy probably needed the sense of purpose. Jo's vulnerability came in a different shape and she certainly didn't need anyone to take care of her. Not that she would admit it to herself, at least.

"Boy." he insisted. "Don't play on both sides. They both deserve better than that."

"No, of course not." Finnick denied. "I'm not… I told Jo it was a mistake. She said she understood. She said we shouldn't make a big deal out of it. That it was just sex."

"Was it?" he challenged.

"It makes you crazy sometimes, Haymitch." Four's victor almost begged him to understand. "I didn't plan it. It just…"

"No." he scoffed. "That's no excuse. It's just like the booze thing. You wanted to sleep with Jo so you slept with Jo."

"It's not that simple." Finnick argued.

"Seems that simple to me." he shrugged. "You asked me here to tell you it was okay to cheat on your girl because you had had a bad night and one glass too many… Sorry but I wasn't the right guy to call. Got many flaws but I don't cheat."

He had spent too many nights watching his mother wait for his father to get home, watching the disappointment on her face when she spotted the guilty glint in her husband's eyes.

All in all, he figured he had only had two important relationships in his life. His girlfriend who he had had honorable intentions for and who he had intended to eventually marry – and to never cheat on her because he wouldn't be that kind of bastard. And Effie, who was the only woman he had spent more than two nights with in his life and to whom he had been clear with from the start: whatever they had, it wasn't exclusive, it wasn't serious and it wasn't going to be love.

The rules with Effie had been defined clearly. They were both free.

So, sure, in the last couple of years, the non-exclusive clause had become something of a problem and they had shifted toward something more traditional. But it remained unvoiced and unacknowledged and if either of them strayed…

Except he couldn't see himself straying. He had tried, at first, when he had realized just how long it had been since he had been with another woman – since he had been forced to listen to her prattling about her latest boyfriend – it had scared him so badly to feel that way that he had tried… But he hadn't been able to go through with it. He didn't want another woman. And it had felt too much like cheating…

He was many things but he wasn't a cheater.

"We don't sleep together… Annie and I." Finnick confessed. "Well, we sleep together but we don't…"

"Yeah, got you." he interrupted.

They didn't have sex, was what he meant.

"She's still recovering and… We said we would be taking it slow." the boy offered, clearing his throat.

It had been three years since Annie's Games but for some victors it was a longer road to semi-sanity than for others. Annie, from what he had heard, was pretty traumatized. Enough that she had remained catatonic for weeks and that the Gamemakers had been forced to keep her Tour short and to the point. She had never come back to the Capitol after that. It was hard to hide that she had lost her mind, even from the audience.

"Still not an excuse." Haymitch shrugged.

"I love her." Finnick swore.

"Yeah? Which one?" he mocked.

Four's victor rolled his eyes and tossed the flask back on Twelve's victor's legs. "Annie." Haymitch toyed with it, waiting for the rest and, inevitably, it came. "Should I tell her or… Jo said we should do as if nothing happened and I think she's right. It was a mistake."

"That's for you to answer, boy." he sighed. "Just… Listen to me, don't screw this up. Whatever you choose to do… Make sure you don't string the other along for nothing."

He hauled himself up to his feet, pocketed his flask and grabbed his shoes and socks before heading out of the pool only pausing when he heard the sound of his name.

"Thank you." Finnick said.

"Any time, boy." he offered.

It was late enough that the only people he met along the hallways were Peacekeepers who didn't even blink at finding him walking barefoot with his pants rolled up to his knees. They were too used to his drunken stunts probably.

The elevator trip back to the penthouse felt endless but couldn't have taken more than a few minutes. He spent the whole time rubbing his face and wondering how and why he had found himself a mentor to victors who weren't his own.

The penthouse was silent and dark, pretty much uninviting, but he ignored the fleeting thought that he could slip back out to a bar or another. The living-room was empty and he didn't bother turning on the lights, the colorful beams from the city nightlights spilling through the bay windows were enough for him to make his way to the liquor cart and fill his flask with a very expensive whiskey. He downed a small glass while he was at it and then retreated toward the bedrooms where everything was equally silent and dark.

He paused in front of his escort's room, hesitated a second and then pushed the door and strolled in like he owned the place. He dropped on the foot of the bed, smirking when she sat up with a startled cry and awkwardly fumbled with the lamp on her bedside table. She didn't seem too happy to find him lying across her bed, missing shoes and socks, his pants rolled up and his shirt still half open.

"Oh! You better not be drunk." she huffed.

She was the only person he knew who could huff in a threatening fashion.

"Not drunk." he promised, lifting both hands innocently.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him with rapt attention. She must have been satisfied that he wasn't lying because she huffed again. "Did you have to wake me up? In case you are confused after twenty-three years of living here, your bedroom is across the hall."

"But there are no gorgeous blonde in it." he pointed out.

Her eyes narrowed even more but her lips twitched. "Aren't you being all charming… What do you want?" His smirk deepened and he wriggled his eyebrows. She burst out laughing. "It is not happening tonight. You aroused me and abandoned me, forcing me to take matters into my own hands."

"Sounds like I missed out on a good show." he taunted.

"You missed out on a great many things." she retorted. "I had slit panties on."

"Kinky." he commented, eyes sparkling in amusement.

"They were lace." she scoffed.

"My favorite." he remarked.

"Only because it is the only fabric you can recognize and name." she mocked, crossing her arms in front of her chest with a displeased pout. "Since going out with your friends was more important than my new lingerie…"

"Finnick needed to talk." he sighed, taking his eyes off her to stare at the ceiling with a pout of his own. He liked Annie. He wasn't sorry to know he wouldn't have to see her face to face any time soon. He didn't like lying like that.

"Is something wrong?" she frowned, shifting so she was kneeling next to him. "You look troubled."

She placed a hand on the middle of his chest, the tip of her fingers was on his skin.

He debated about telling her or not. The boy hadn't sworn him to secrecy but it was more or less implied that that sort of conversations would remain between friends. Effie, he knew, could be trusted with a secret.

But it wasn't his to tell.

"I'm troubled 'cause I missed out on the slit panties." he teased, reaching out to brush the side of her neck with his hand.

"Haymitch." she said, seriously enough.

He shook his head and coiled his fingers around the back of her nape.

"Nothing to worry about." he promised. "Just girl problems."

"And he asked you for advices?" she scoffed, lifting both eyebrows. "He does know you are not an expert in relationships, doesn't he?"

"So funny, Princess…" he deadpanned, pulling her down for a kiss.

He would show her expert.