Prompt: Have A Drink, Sweetheart prompt: we live in an apartment complex (substitute for penthouse or Victor Village in District 12) and i almost burnt down our whole floor cause i was trying to make cupcakes at 3am, sorry
The Cupcake Debacle
Haymitch was staring at the yet unopened bottle of whiskey, dying to twist the cap and take a sip.
It was what it felt like, the thirst, dying. He would know. He had rubbed shoulders with death enough times over his forty years of life, first with his family and then with his long and disappointing career in the military. That was how he had ended up there, wasn't it? In an apartment in a nice building he could only afford thanks to what he thought of as blood money, with a lot of dead friends and two meddling kids neighbors who mostly kept him on the straight and narrow, his side aching from an almost fatal wound that never stopped hurting even now that he was out of the woods, staring at a bottle of whiskey at 3 am in the morning and wondering how long it would take him to cave and drink it dry. How long it would take him to become the cliché of a drunk veteran who rightly cursed the thing he had served for so many years.
But, he guessed, that was what happened when you were a retired killing machine… It was nothing more than what he deserved.
Briefly, he entertained the thought of knocking on Katniss and Peeta's door. He would be welcome, even at the late hour, and they would humor him with conversation and no comment about the state of him… But the boy would have to be up early to open the bakery and Katniss had her own demons to battle at night what with her dead sister and all…
So really…
He heard a faint shrill sound that distracted him from his staring and prompted him to look up. What was she up to now?
Saying that he hated his upstairs neighbor was a nice euphemism. She had moved into what he and the kids had dubbed the penthouse – ironically, because the apartment was the only one on the last floor and had an access to the roof but it was also tiny compared to theirs – a couple of months earlier and, since then, it had been constant war. She seemed to delight in listening to loud upbeat music, walking around in heels and, most of all, the only few times they had crossed paths, she had turned her nose up at him and had huffed he needed to work on his manners.
The kids liked her though, go figure.
The sound he could barely hear wasn't music though, it was more like…
Suddenly he was sitting straighter… Was it smoke he could smell? The phobia he had never been able to control since his teenage years rose up its ugly head and, for a moment, he sat there completely paralyzed. Then he bolted because…
Fuck but if that woman was burning the whole building down…
He wouldn't end up like his family and his girlfriend… And he wouldn't let the kids end up like that either…
He rushed to the corridor but all was calm outside. Nothing was amiss, no other smoke detector was blaring… He stopped in front of the kids' door, hesitating. He couldn't smell smoke in the corridor. Had he imagined it? Was it his head playing tricks again?
Her apartment was right on top of his though… If…
His heart racing, he bypassed the elevator and climbed the stairs two steps at a time. It was a short trip to the upper floor and… Yeah. There was smoke. Not a lot of it but enough that it slipped through the cracks of the door. And it was definitely a smoke detector that was making that noise but it was strangely muffled.
He didn't hesitate before dashing to the door. He would have broken it down but, as it turned out, he didn't need to because the handle gave easily under his palm.
It wasn't a bad neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination but what was she about not locking her door at night?
He ran inside, coughing in his elbow because the smoke was thicker in the tiny apartment, barely noticing the white walls and the colorful artworks that would probably suffer from the night's events. The kitchen was open on the living-room, he had no problem locating the source of the smoke.
The woman was ineffectively fanning the gaping oven…
He couldn't see flames, that was already something…
She shrieked when she spotted his imposing figure through the smoke and, when he came closer, swatted at him with the… What is a blanket she was using to fan the smoke? He easily snatched it from her hands, opened all the windows he could locate and wrapped the blanket around his hand, reaching inside the oven for whatever was burning…
Or had burned rather.
He was right, there were no flames.
Just charred cupcakes.
At least he thought that was what the black rocks were.
He tossed them in the sink and opened the tap just in case.
It didn't take too long for the smoke to clear once the windows were opened but he didn't spare her a glance until he was certain there was no more danger. She just stood there anyway, hugging herself.
He was prepared to get very angry with her but when he finally turned toward her he couldn't help a smidge of… pity. She had clearly been crying and, given the smudged make-up and the dark traces running down her cheeks, she had been for a while… Probably long before the cupcake thing. The tears made her eyes look even bluer and…
Her blond hair was up in a disheveled bun, a few curly strands had escaped and brushed her neck and shoulder… She was wearing red pajamas shorts and a matching silky top that didn't hide much of her – gorgeous – body. She looked far more approachable than when she strutted around on her heels in tailor suits.
Maybe pity wasn't the only thing she was making him feel right at this second.
"I'm sorry." she said eventually, swallowing hard and making an obvious effort to collect herself. "I just wanted… I…"
She burst into sobs and he was left staring at her because he had never really been good at comforting crying women. Fortunately, she got herself under control really quickly and wiped her tears off – which only served to smudge her make-up more but…
"Why is this thing not blaring?" he asked, pointing at the smoke detector that was still lazily beeping. It was dying though, that was clear.
"I think the battery is low but I am too short to reach it." she explained, looking at her feet.
"And you never thought to ask that boyfriend of yours?" he grumbled, sliding a stool from the small dining space to climb on it and deactivate the detector. He had seen his boyfriend around a few times. He looked even more posh than she did. He was surprised people like them didn't live in the upper class part of town…
"I do not have a boyfriend." she replied.
He lifted his eyebrows and glanced down at her. "Guy with the weird beard? He comes and goes at late hours if he ain't your boyfriend."
She pursed her lips, mistrust and annoyance flashing on her face. "Have you been watching me?"
"Hard not to follow what you do when you stomp around in those heels." he grumbled. "And that guy, he ain't any more quieter than you are."
Her pout softened a little. "I do apologize. I will try to make less noise."
"Yeah." he snorted. "So you've said a few times now."
"It is not my fault the walls are thin." she pointed out.
"Nah, but you might wanna remember that when your not-boyfriend is over…" He smirked, making her huff in outrage at the implication. "I've got batteries at my place. I'll go get them. It ain't safe not to take care of that stuff, sweetheart. You're lucky I heard it at all."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly…" she protested, taking a step forward when he climbed off the stool. "I already disturbed your sleep, I cannot…"
"Wasn't sleeping." he dismissed. "And I don't fucking mind. I'd like it better if I was sure I can hear next time you try to burn down the building in the middle of the night."
"I wasn't trying to burn down the building I just wanted some cupcakes." she hissed. "Clearly the stove is not working properly."
"Clearly." he mocked. When he headed out of her apartment she followed him. "So, what are the cupcakes for? That guy dumped you?"
"It is my birthday and I had the worst day." She sighed, slowly taking the stairs after him. "And he is not my boyfriend, I told you. He is my friend. Sometimes with benefits."
So she was into casual hook-ups… That was… Interesting.
Not that he was interested.
Sleeping with someone who lived right over his apartment would be messy and he didn't need any more mess in his life. And yet… He gestured at her to walk inside first when they reached the open door of his flat just so he could check her out.
It wasn't a bad sight.
"What happened, then?" he insisted, not quite sure why he was bothering to ask. He would get her the batteries, put the smoke detector back in place and go back to his tête-à-tête with his whiskey…
"You are not very tidy." she commented, wrinkling her nose when she caught sight of the inside of his place. It wasn't that bad, really. Mostly because Katniss had hired that housekeeper for him… He just liked his clutter. There were a lot of books around, some clothes… It wasn't as bad as it could have been. At least Hazelle took care of the dirty dishes and of the dusting and mopping…
"Anyone ever told you you're a pain in the ass?" he retorted.
He expected her to rebuke him for his rudeness or his lack of manners or something because that had been the essential of their interactions so far but she seemed to deflate. "I apologize… I am being very rude. Nothing forced you to come to my help…"
"How do you figure?" He snorted. "I didn't want my place to burn down. Wasn't rescuing you."
He started rummaging in the kitchen's drawers, looking for the spare batteries he knew he had somewhere in there… He didn't mind it so much when she sat down at the table.
"I see." she said but she was fighting a small smile, as if she knew perfectly well he was lying. And, truth be told, he would have made sure she was alright even if there had been an actual fire so… "Oh, that's actually good whiskey… All I had was some sort of pink liquor cocktail… It wasn't even enough to make me tipsy…"
There was a question in there and, he figured, she was waiting for him to do the polite thing and offer to pour her one.
"You're sure? Cause there are burned cupcakes upstairs that say you might have been more than just tipsy." he taunted and then shrugged, not making eye contact. "Was trying to keep from drinking that actually."
"Oh." she whispered with sudden understanding, pushing the bottle to the side. "Alright, then. No liquor."
Well, he hadn't invited her to have a bloody drink, now, had he?
His hand closed around the battery package with something that wasn't quite relief. He turned toward her, intending to tell her they could go back to her place and end this weird unpleasant night, but the sight of her sitting there in her pajamas with her dirty face… It had been a long while since there had been a woman sitting in his kitchen.
Never mind one as pretty as this one.
"It's not cupcake but I've got eggs, if you want." He heard himself offer.
"Oh, do you mind?" She beamed. "I am starving. There was supposed to be this birthday dinner at my parents', you see, but it went so awry and then…"
She shook her head and he found himself taking eggs from the fridge and a pan from the cupboard, wondering all the while what the fuck he was doing. "How do you like them? An omelet? That's good?"
He had some mushrooms and a few tomatoes, he could add. He didn't really bother cooking for himself – relying a little too much on the kids' generous leftovers perhaps – but… He felt like cooking right then.
"It would be perfect."
She smiled at him and, suddenly, it was like the lights had gone three shades brighter. The heat too. It was definitely too hot in his kitchen now. He focused on slicing tomatoes instead of looking at her. What the fuck was he doing?
Making friends like the therapist at the VA group had recommended.
He had enough friends. He had the kids. And she was a pain he didn't want to be friends with. She had been annoying him ever since she had moved in. Who needed a friend like that?
"The birthday dinner was a disaster." she lamented after a minute, even though he hadn't asked. He was too busy being confused by his own actions. She didn't seem to like the silence and she perched herself on the kitchen counter next to where he was slicing his tomato. It gave him a very good view of the legs she had just crossed. And they were very nice legs. "My mother… Oh, she was awful. Even more awful than usual. I just turned thirty-five, you see… And, obviously, I do not have a husband or children and, technically, I am a little bit stuck in my career at the moment…" The cheer in her voice dimmed and she looked like she was going to cry again. "We had the most terrible fight during the pre-dinner drinks. She said things…" She sighed. "What does she think? That I am not aware I am unlikely to find a husband now that I am admittedly less pretty than…"
"Who the fuck ever said you weren't pretty?" he scoffed, wiping the eggs.
"Well, I am getting old and…" she argued.
"Sweetheart, you've got clown paint all over your face and I still think you're fucking gorgeous." he cut her off, mocking.
Her eyes widened at that and she hopped off the counter to hurry to the small mirror in the entryway. She did her best to wipe the makeup off but she only managed to smear it even more.
"My name is Effie, by the way." she tossed at him.
"Haymitch." he offered, taking two plates out of the cupboard and dividing the omelet in two slightly uneven parts. He wasn't that hungry. He never was anymore. Not after the wound that had left him holding his guts in his hands and had forced him to go through so many weeks of hospital rest and reeducation. "Don't have birthday candles but…" He opened a drawer and pulled out the lavender candle Katniss had given him for the bathroom and he had never used – and he had refused to understand the implications. "Here."
He carefully lit it and waited until she came back in the kitchen, smudged make-up and all, to blow it off.
She did, eyes closed, and he just knew she was that kind of people who still made wishes even though they were adults and should know better.
He kind of liked it.
She sat down and accepted the fork he handed her, beaming at him like he was an actual human being worth of consideration instead of the washed-up bitter man he felt like.
"I think you are going to be my new best friend." she declared in a way that told him there was no discussing it, it was done, she had made her choice regardless of what he thought about it.
He had a sudden vision of her and her annoying quirks invading his apartment all the time, bringing her usual cheer and perky attitude with her. He wasn't sure he minded that much.
He barely resisted the urge to ask if their friendship could be with benefits too though…
We all know how THAT ends XD I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts!