Or how a trucker wearing feminine underwear in an episode of Bones can inspire a nation (well maybe not a nation but at least it inspired me) and yes this is crack. Complete utter unrepentant crack.
5 Times Haymitch Wore Panties And 1 Time Effie Wore Boxers
1.
Haymitch was just closing his bedroom door for the night, having made the decision to retire early – to escape the desperate eyes of the tributes as much as because there was a perfectly good bottle of hard liquor calling his name – when a woman swiftly slipped in before he could close the door all the way.
"Please, come in, sweetheart." he taunted with a heavy dose of sarcasm that fell on deaf ears.
Effie simply grinned at him, sauntering all the way to the bed like a proud peacock. She was still wearing that ugly puffy blue dress, the pink wig and the clownish make-up. She stood at the side of his unmade bed for a second, calculating no doubt how long he had been in the city so far and how dirty it could actually be, before tossing the sheets and comforter back up and sitting on top of them. Then she looked up at him, her grin turning into an impatient impish thing, her blue eyes sparkling in delight.
"Show me." she ordered.
He rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and stared her down, instinctively taking a wilder stance than usual. Standing his ground.
"In five seconds you're gonna start clapping your hands like a damn child." he grumbled.
She didn't let his grumpiness bother her. She leaned back a little, propping herself on her hands. It was all nice and innocent but she knew her leaning back against any potential flat surface was enough to give him ideas so it wasn't that innocent. Clearly, she was determined to get his pants off by any way necessary.
"A bet is a bet, darling." she sing-sang in that teasing tone of hers.
And he should have known better than to bet against her. Fine.
To be fair though, usually, when they bet stuff they always went for the easy sexual favors… Now, this…
And it was all his fault, really. He was the one who had issued the bet, annoyed by her incessant prattling. He had bet her she couldn't go three days without spreading the tiniest gossip. Well… She had an iron will when she wanted to and he was an idiot for not knowing how stubborn she could be.
If she had lost, she would have given him a blow job in a public place. Risky, exciting but nothing they hadn't done before and didn't know they could get away with. He had expected something of the like in return.
But she had surprised him.
When didn't she, though?
He supposed, he may have insulted her a little when he had told her she talked too much and was an endless gossip and that he couldn't bear it anymore – and the crux of the matter was: the gossip was useful most of the times because all was fair during the Games and blackmail could always come in handy. He figured she had meant her side of the bet as a walk a mile in my shoes kind of thing.
Except he wouldn't fit in her shoes and he wouldn't be able to take two steps in heels, never mind last a day with them.
And that's how he had gotten there.
He had refused to show her the whole effect this morning when she had slipped him the item. He had simply given her a peek, enough that she was satisfied he was actually wearing them.
"Bet said I had to wear them a whole day not that I had to show you." he argued, glaring at her.
He wanted to turn away and grab the bottle of liquor waiting on the dresser but he didn't trust her not to do… something. He knew her. She would one hundred percent jump on his back to take matter into her own hands if he was being too difficult.
She pouted, tilting her head to the side, seductively offering him her throat in the process…
He wasn't oblivious to what she was doing. At all.
"But, Haymitch… I really want to see…" she hummed in a semi-pleading voice. "Don't you want to get out of those clothes? I know I cannot wait to get out of this dress…"
"Ain't you supposed to supervise the kids?" he deadpanned.
"Ines is watching a soap opera on TV and Hal went to his room." she replied. "I will check on them before actually going to bed but I think they are unlikely to request our presence for the foreseeable future."
A touch of sadness replaced the seductive purr in her voice. Because in a few days the kids would be gone and…
"Fine." he snapped. He hated seeing her sad more than he liked her attempts at seduction. He wanted the smile back on her mouth. And, surely enough, the cloud in her eyes vanished and she sat straighter, that eagerness of hers returning.
"Really?" she asked, biting down on her bottom lip.
"Really." he sighed, unbuttoning his shirt. His jacket and waistcoat he had already discarded earlier, as soon as they had been back inside the penthouse."You can have your laugh and we can move on."
"Good man." she approved, already chuckling.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.
He toed off his shoes the way she hated because – undo the shoelace first, you ruffian, you will damage perfectly good shoes! – got rid of the socks and then started unbuckling his belt. He wasn't entirely unaware that she was interested for different reasons now. She always liked it when he undressed for her, even when he wasn't particularly putting on a show. But, then again, he was also very attentive when she took off her clothes and she wasn't always giving him a strip-tease either so…
He popped open the button but stopped with his hand on the zipper.
"You're sure this isn't gonna stick in your head or something, yeah?" he challenged. "Cause if you never want to fuck me again 'cause of that stupid idea of yours, I'm gonna be pissed."
She laughed. That low breathy laugh that felt so intimate and he never heard outside of the bedroom. "Oh, I can safely say there is no risk of that happening."
He shook his head and sighed once more. "At your own risk." He lowered the zipper, pushed the pants down, stepped out of them and didn't meet her eyes. His face was crimson, he knew. He could feel his ears burning.
She didn't outright laugh and he finally risked a glance at her to find her staring.
Well, no wonder, he mused, risking a look at the mirror in the corner. He only had a partial view of his reflection from where he was standing but the pink silk and lacy panties she had handed him that morning clearly looked out of place on him.
They had been tight that morning, because clearly she was tiny and he was not, but they had loosened quickly enough – to the point he didn't think she would ever be able to wear them again, they would fall right at her feet.
The front was all soft silk, the back was all see-through lace and covered half his ass…
And, bet or not, there wasn't another soul on this planet he would have let him convince of doing this. He hoped she knew that.
She had him jumping through so many fucking hoops…
"Cat got your tongue?" he grumbled after a few minutes of her staring.
Her blue eyes left his groin – and wasn't that making the panties tighter yet again – to dart up to his.
"You look very pretty." she teased.
He made a face. "Ha. Bloody. Ha."
"It is also kind of sexy…" she hummed, shifting to her knees on the bed and beckoning him closer with her hand. Well… He was a man. He knew better than disobeying when a gorgeous woman – even in a ridiculous getup – kneeled on a bed and wanted him closer. So closer he went, stopping only when he was right in front of her. She brushed her fingers against the pink silk, retracing his bulk through the fabric… "There is something about a man like you in silk and lace… I was not expecting that…"
He frowned. "What?"
"It is arousing." she stated plainly, meeting his eyes and leaning in to place a kiss over the seam of the panties, never breaking eye-contact. "Is it very uncomfortable?"
He shuffled from one foot to another, debating on what to actually confess. Because he knew he should have just said yes, got rid of the panties, pushed her down and fucked her. Never mention the bet again.
"Nah." he finally admitted, pulling at the lace on his backside. "Thought this would itch but it doesn't. And this part's fucking soft…" He took that opportunity to bring her hand back to his silk-covered groin – just to be very clear about what he was talking about, of course. "Squeezes less than boxers, too. Wasn't the worst."
And the feel of silk and lace… It was something he associated exclusively to her so…
No, it hadn't been his worst day.
There was a twinkle in Effie's eyes. "My, my, Haymitch… Did you enjoy yourself?"
He sneered. "They're pink."
It was the most offensive thing he could find to say about the undergarment.
"Should I see about finding you more pretty underwear in less garish colors?" she asked, half-teasing and half-serious.
"You're obsessed with putting underwear on me." he grumbled. "Thought the point was to get rid of them?"
He had been perfectly happy to go commando before she became his escort and self-appointed herself in charge of his wardrobe. Apparently, going commando under couture suits wasn't done. All the more so when he had a tendency to get wasted and she had to regularly drag him to bed and take off his pants to wash off puke or just to make him comfortable.
"There is nothing wrong with liking this, you know…" she said carefully. "That is precisely why I hate labels. It is not because they are marketed for women that men should not feel good once in a while…"
He had the strong feeling she had added once in a while not to spook him.
"Ain't gonna start wearing lingerie for you, sweetheart." he scoffed. "Save yourself the speech."
"Too bad…" Effie sighed theatrically. "I bet you would look beautiful in a negligee…"
Her sentence ended with a shrill scream when he finally pounced on her.
2.
Haymitch hurried into the men's restroom, relieved to find it empty.
He had to be quick, he knew, because it wouldn't stay empty for long and the rumors that would start if anyone saw him…
He rushed to the walls of urinals, undid his pants and pushed down the underwear… That was one thing pretty panties weren't good for: a quick manly piss.
He couldn't believe he had let himself get convinced to be in this situation yet again – and, to be entirely honest, there hadn't been much convincing involved, just a few kisses in sensitive places and a taunting whisper against his hipbone… And, he had figured, it wasn't like he hadn't repurposed the trashed panties he had stolen from her after sex once or twice over the winter. Who would know? He lived alone, saw no one, and if that meant he could wear underwear without his balls being crushed in too-tight boxers when he was out of clean stuff…
So, yeah, he had stupidly let her convince him.
She had even bought him some lacy panties in his size – and yes, that made a difference, because her panties were quick to loosen up but having some already in his own size was even better and…
That woman was driving him crazy, there was no other explanation to this.
And if it came to the point when he had to will himself to piss faster just to escape discovery maybe it was time to reevaluate their affair, he thought just as his worst nightmare happened and the door to the restroom swung open.
Fortunately – or not – it was only Chaff.
And Chaff's eyes, lazy at first when they spotted him, soon grew wide. The greeting died on his friend's lips.
Haymitch shook himself twice and pulled everything back up without bothering to tuck things properly in, quickly buckling his belt.
"Not a word." he warned, making his way to the sinks.
Because there was no way Chaff hadn't seen the black lacy – very feminine – panties he had just pulled over his ass.
Eleven's victor lifted his shortened arm and his hand in this air in a gesture of peace, an amused but slightly disturbed look on his face as he made his own way to the urinals.
"Kid, you're my brother and I love you." Chaff said very seriously, his eyes still wide. "If you play for the other team I'm still gonna love you. You can tell me. I'm a bit hurt you haven't told me before actually. Sure explains why you don't want to pick women up anymore…"
Haymitch wiped his hands on a too-thin paper towel that tore in tiny bits of paper like it always did because those things were annoying. "Don't be stupid. Ain't into men."
Chaff wasn't focusing on what he was doing and he missed the urinal by a few inches. Not that it really seemed to bother him. His eyes were on Haymitch. "So what's with the pretty lingerie?"
"It's a dare." he gritted through his teeth.
A dare issued against his hipbone in a very husky voice that promised a lot of treats if he took her up on it.
Chaff tucked himself back in, looking a bit unsure. "A dare."
"Yeah…" Haymitch sighed.
"From who?" Eleven's victor wanted to know, walking to the sink to wash his hand.
"Who do you think?" he growled. He had to admit that much because any other lie would be quickly disproved.
Chaff chortled and then barked out his trademark laugh when he figured it out. "Oh, she's good… And what did you do to get yourself punished like that?"
Haymitch rolled his eyes. "Dared her to tell Crane his beard ain't that pretty."
Chaff's eyebrows shot up. "Did she?"
"Why do you think I'm wearing girl underwear?" he growled. "She's angry at me cause Crane's sulking and won't take her out to whatever red carpet he was supposed to take her."
Which, in his book, wasn't a bad thing.
Chaff laughed again, clapping him on the shoulder. "You and your escort have weird ideas about foreplay, buddy."
"Ain't like that." he grumbled as they made their way out of the restroom and back to the mentor lounge.
"Sure it ain't." Chaff humored him.
He made a face. "You won't say anything, right?"
"Your secret's safe with me." Eleven's victor snorted.
He hoped it was.
Because if Chaff told that to their friends when he was drunk he would never hear the end of it.
3.
Effie emptied the drawer for the third time but it wasn't the charm.
Her brand new panties remained missing.
She pursed her lips, tightening the dressing gown around her body. She had bought them especially to go under the dress she wanted to wear that night and there was no time to change plans now. The party was in an hour and she would need all that time to get ready.
Before she could ponder the matter further, there was a lazy knock on her doorframe and Haymitch leaned against her open door, wearing loose sweatpants and nothing else. There were so many bite marks, scratches and finger-shaped bruised on his chest and arms that she was momentarily distracted from her search… His grey eyes immediately went to the dressing-gown and grew dark – because he knew she had nothing underneath.
"I do not have time for shenanigans." she warned in the firm tone that meant no is no and not no is maybe. Even if the sight of the marks on his bare chest stirred something in her lower belly. She had left even more of them on his inner thighs and the thought…
Regret passed on his face but he didn't try to insist, which was something she truly appreciated with him. "Noticed you didn't hang anything on my door… That means I can skip tonight? Cause there's a book and a bottle of whiskey with my name on them…"
He sounded hopeful but it didn't last. Because she scowled, silently berating herself in the privacy of her own mind.
Nothing was going right that day. First she had been forced to book an emergency manicure because she had broken a nail, then her beautiful new panties were missing and now she was on the verge of being late because she had forgotten to pick a suit for him. And, no, she didn't trust him to pick an outfit himself. Knowing him, he would show up in those exact sweatpants and, if he bothered to wear a shirt at all, it would be one of the washed-out ones he had forbidden her from tossing away.
"Your book and your liquor will have to wait." she declared, pushing past him and across the corridor to his bedroom. She knew what suit she wanted for him that night. She knew which one would go perfectly with her dress and she liked subtly color-coordinating them. It showed they were a team.
It was a matter of minute to locate the right suit and hang it on the door so it wouldn't crease.
"I think golden cufflinks." she hummed. "And a tie with burgundy accents. Can you handle that much or…" One look at his raised eyebrows was enough to determine he couldn't be trusted to handle that much. "Well, make yourself useful and find some clean socks. Not ones with holes."
He grumbled all the while he crouched to rummage in the bottom drawer of his dresser about how people wouldn't know what socks he was wearing since they were in his shoes.
Tie in hand, she whirled around to tell him that wasn't the point when she saw them.
Her missing panties.
Her beautiful inky blue lace panties with the tiny bow on the back…
And they were poking out from his sweatpants.
Probably stretched beyond repairs.
"Haymitch!" she snapped.
He startled and stood back up, frowning at her sudden hostile tone. "What now?"
She pursed her lips tight, trying to keep a leash on her annoyance but… Really!
"Haymitch, I do not mind one tiny bit that you occasionally like to put on women underwear but does it have to be mine?" she hissed.
"Don't know what you're talking about." he lied in an almost boyish mumbled, pulling the sweatpants higher.
"You stole my beautiful panties." she huffed. "I did not even get to wear them once."
He made a face, clearly embarrassed.
"Well it's your fault, ain't it?" he scoffed. "You're the one who blew me raw earlier." She may or may not have tortured him for a long time with her mouth, tongue and teeth before allowing him to finally take her – and she had lost a nail in the process. "Boxers rub against… stuff. Silk's… softer."
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
She had created a monster.
4.
The amount of work still to do in her apartment was depressing.
They had moved in there after Katniss had shot Coin, after Paylor had taken over, after it had been made clear they were outlasting their welcome at the Mansion… Plutarch had offered to host them but Effie had politely refused for both of them because she wanted to go back to her own place.
The months in Thirteen had been endless and she had been dreaming of her bathtub, of the privacy her apartment afforded, of the space she and Haymitch could live in without stumbling on each other like they had in the compartment they – unofficially – shared.
So between preparing for Katniss' trial and trying to figure out if he could find a place in the new rebel government – the answer to that seemed to be no – they were trying to fix her place. They had replaced the windows, they had swept away the worst of the damage and cleaned everything but her apartment had been ransacked several times, most of her valuables stolen, and they had simply put the scattered stuff in heaps to sort through later.
It went for the mementoes in her living-room, the few awards that hadn't been stolen, the broken frames from the walls and the clothes that had been left behind. Some were shredded, some were beyond repairs, some were salvageable…
She was trying to sort through her poor ransacked walk-in closet with Haymitch walking around, touching stuff, messing with her very organized system…
"Go check what is left in the dresser, would you?" she snapped eventually, when she couldn't bear it anymore.
There was no way she would let him anywhere near her precious couture dresses but he could probably handle her white lacquered dresser. It was lingerie, mostly, and nightwear. It should occupy him for a few minutes.
It was maybe an overestimation because he was back within two minutes.
She felt his presence at her back before he spoke but didn't turn around, focused on trying to decide if she could sew that tear in this lovely peach dress back and if it was worth it.
She had been sad for a while and about a lot of things: dead friends, the state of the city, the general gloominess that had gone hand in hand with victory… But seeing her beloved clothes so damaged was a special kind of sad and…
"Good news, princess." Haymitch said with that hint of mischief in his voice that immediately alarmed her.
"We could use some of that." she muttered anyway, still staring at that dress, feeling him walk closer and around so he was standing next to her.
She noticed the bare feet and the bare shins first and then she let her eyes roam higher, not quite sure why he had stripped down suddenly until…
"Your underwear's all there." he told her.
She wasn't sure what made her laugh so hard she had to clutch her belly and there were tears running down her cheeks: the neon pink panties he had pulled on or the Cheshire smirk on his lips.
"Well…" she said, out of breath, once she recovered. "At least you can stop complaining about Thirteen's issued boxers being itchy…"
He stuck her tongue out at her and she laughed even more.
Which was probably the aim, to distract her from the desolation around her place, her whole life gone in shreds…
She didn't resist when he coaxed her into his arms or when he carried her to bed, insisting they needed to get rid of her own ugly Thirteen's issued underwear to clad her in silk…
5.
Haymitch was in a rare good mood.
He was swaying and singing along to the catchy song on the old radio in his kitchen, flipping pancakes in the pan… Maybe he was shaking his ass with a little too much enthusiasm but who would know, right?
That was his reasoning, at least until he heard the loud gasp behind him and he froze.
He knew it wasn't Effie.
He knew it wasn't Effie because he had left her all languid and sleepy upstairs in bed. She had arrived on an early train, so early it hadn't even be light out yet, and she was tired – from the trip and from the welcome home sex. He had offered to carry up breakfast on a tray for her and it wasn't a treat he offered often enough for her to miss it by wandering around. Besides, she wouldn't have gasped.
So it wasn't Effie.
And whoever it was, they had just been treated to a view of his swaying ass clad in lacy lavender panties with a heart shape hole over his asshole and a neatly tied little bow at the small of his back.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned around, spatula raised and his worst nightmare came true.
Because if it had been Sae – not that Sae would have showed up in his kitchen without knocking first at the crack of dawn – he could have salvaged it somehow.
But the kids…
Katniss' mouth was open, her jaw gaping, in an expression that immediately reminded him of that distant time Johanna had done her little strip number in the elevator during the Quell.
And Peeta.
Peeta's eyes were wide, his fingers clenched around the plate full of cheese buns he was carrying.
Although to be fair, Haymitch was pretty certain he had a deer-caught-in-headlights expression himself.
Silence stretched too long, the tension absolutely not eased by the cheerful music.
Eventually, Peeta recovered and cleared his throat. "We… We wanted to see if Effie… We thought…" The boy clearly abandoned coherent sentences and jutted the plate forward, so careful not to let his eyes drift down to what the see-through panties weren't hiding. "Breakfast."
It came out squeaky.
Katniss was still staring and gaping and Haymitch quickly grabbed an apron and tied it around his waist. "You mind?"
The girl's jaw snapped shut but her eyes remained wide and shocked. "I mind? What the hell, Haymitch?"
Why did a man have to justify himself about what he was wearing in his own fucking home?
"They're Effie's." he said quickly because, obviously, some kind of explanation was needed. A lie. A bad one. The panties were his size and nobody could have mistaken that. She had just given them to him as a joke – well, a semi-joke because she knew he was willing to wear stuff if she asked nicely – and he had modeled them for her because silk and lace on him did turn her on… But he wasn't going to explain that. "It's laundry day."
Also a lie and also not a good one.
Haymitch didn't have laundry days and if he didn't have clean clothes, he either wore dirty ones or went naked. They had caught him a few times and hadn't that be embarrassing…
Not as embarrassing as this though.
"I think we should…" Peeta struggled to say, still in shock.
"Learn to knock?" Effie's voice suggested from the corridor. Next thing he knew, she was right there, tightly wrapped in a silk dressing gown the exact same shade as his panties – and the girl who missed a lot didn't miss that if the suspicious look she shot his way was any indication, forcing him to make a face at her because no the dressing gown wasn't his, he didn't wear women clothes, just panties, occasionally. She hugged the children, managed to dissolve the tension by distracting them with anecdotes and copious thanks for the cheese buns that would be necessary now that he had burned the last of the pancakes, too distracted to care, and managed to send them back on their way all the while letting them think it was their idea.
"But what is the hole for?" Katniss asked Peeta in a loud whisper as the children made their way to the front door.
"I don't want to know." they heard Peeta answer.
Then the front door slammed shut and they both stared at each other.
It was a whole minute before Haymitch decided he wanted to laugh about it rather than licking his bruised pride all day. Effie, it seemed, had only been waiting for his permission because she burst out laughing too.
"I told you to get dressed." she remarked, stealing a piece of pancake from the plate.
"I told you not to." he countered, tugging on the belt of the dressing gown.
The silk slid loose easily…
6.
Nights in Four were suffocating.
You would think they would have gotten used to it after all those yearly summer visits but…
Haymitch laid on his back, not moving at all, letting the fan in the corner blow tepid air on his naked body. He didn't even turn his head when he heard the door to their bedroom open and close and Effie sneaking back in. She immediately went to stand in front of the fan, cutting him from his breeze.
He snorted when he saw her outfit though. "What if you'd met someone?"
Instead of her usual nightgowns and pajamas, she had taken to go to sleep in only a pair of boxers she had long pilfered from him. Fair, since she was the one who had gifted them to him in the first place, decades ago, during the Games. They were pink with red hearts and the words kiss my ass were stamped on the back. She had meant it as a joke probably because she knew he wouldn't willingly wear anything pink – unless it brought a smile to her lips – but the joke had been on her because he liked them in a sarcastic way. They were faded now, not good for anything but to be used as sleepwear…
She wasn't wearing anything else. Her breasts were free.
Never a bad sight.
"I am pretty sure Annie, Johanna and Katniss are also sleeping mostly naked." she pointed out. "I am sure they would understand."
"What about the boy?" he mocked. "You know he'd have to use bleach on his eyes for days…"
She made a face at him over his shoulder. "Am I so hideous in my dotting age?"
She was hardly in her dotting age.
Mid-forties and still smocking hot…
He didn't answer her though, letting a smirk float on his lips as his eyes racked over her… He nodded at the words stamped on her ass. "That's an invitation?"
Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she turned toward the bed, putting her hands on her hips to study him. "Well… I would hardly stop you."
Hardly was a good word for it, he decided.
And he pounced.
I hope you liked this little crack. Let me know your thoughts!