Interlude – a Haymitch/Effie special


Slamming the door of his work truck, he scowled in the direction of the hot sun as it tilted its way westward. Even the early evening sunlight was positively scorching and there was nothing more he wanted than a cold shower and an even colder beer. His eyes rested on the old teal ford tempo in the driveway, lingering on the rusted out bumper. What a piece of shit, he thought to himself about Effie's car.

Sauntering over to the hood, he effortlessly popped it open and checked the inside, finishing with the oil. It was in desperate need of an oil change and he didn't even want to think about the last time she had new brake pads or rotated those blasted bald tires. Heat be damned, she shouldn't be driving it.

"Well, fuck me," he muttered under his breath. The beer could wait. He was already hot and sweaty and he wanted to know if he could still do an oil change in less than ten minutes.

Or that's what he told himself, anyway.


Effie licked her fingertips before shoving the small corningware pot that was older than she was into the oven, shoving the door closed with her foot. Even though it was hotter than the blazes out, she'd had a craving for her mother's chicken and dumplings recipe for ages now.

A little comfort food always helped, she figured. The only thing worse than her ex showing up was him calling her employer to tarnish her name and make her the topic of gossipy conversation for everyone in town. She grasped her glass of water and slid down onto the floor in front of her window ac unit. The top floor was blisteringly hot in the summer, but she didn't mind it terribly. It was small, outdated, and the floors creaked, but it was hers. And with Haymitch and Katniss and Prim just a few feet away….it felt safe. Safer than she remembered feeling in years.

That had all gone to tatters that day she'd gone to work and discovered all of her coworkers listening to the message on the answering machine at the front desk of the salon. It had just been a crappy few weeks and she couldn't seem to get over it – it took all of her energy just to make it through her day at the salon, faking smiles and acting like she didn't give a shit if the other girls were sniping about her behind her back. Acting cool and breezy and like she didn't care just took so much energy. By the time she got home at night…she was out of smiles and lively things to say. She supposed that was why Haymitch had been such good company the other night on the porch. He'd barely even glared at her when she used her hot pink nail to crack open one of his beers and take a long sip. She didn't normally drink beer, but….but she enjoyed the way he scowled with his piercing blue eyes at her as she took a giant, frothy sip. She'd grinned and shoved it at him and tried not to let him notice her shiver when their hands touched.

The idea of Haymitch was a silly musing. Something to do. Something to think about at night before she drifted to sleep…no, she shouldn't, she thought. Those were dangerous things to think about. So what if she appreciated the way his work cargos hung off his shapely rear? Or the stunning blue of his eyes? Or the way his worn hands looked around a cold can….

Another shiver raced down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the window ac unit.


He let the hood fall shut with a loud thump and turned wiped his hands on a rag. The screen door two stories up flew open with a loud creaking noise, making him look up.

Damn her and those tank tops, he thought with a grimace. Most days Effie was nothing more than a flirty thorn in his side, but it was those times that he looked at her – actually looked at her – that he felt himself getting in trouble. Of course she was pretty – all that shiny blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile that just made her look like she was up to something….yes, Effie was pretty.

She stood on the tiny balcony at the top of her stairs in ratty jean shorts and a hot pink tank top that clung to her sides. He slid his eyes casually up her body and was surprised to see panic in her eyes.

Oh, right…the ex. Prolly scared the shit outta her clanging around down here.

"Haymitch?"

He grunted in response, turning away. He'd looked too long, anyway. Effie and her damn pink tank tops usually got him in trouble. She'd caught him having one lingering look months ago and she'd been nosing around his door all summer. Only recently had it tapered off slightly, and a part of him missed the way she fussed over him and practically pleaded for his attention.

"Just changin' the oil. When's the last time you had this load of junk serviced?"

Her posture relaxed as she leaned on the railing. "About two hundred thousand miles ago," she answered with a smirk.

"Figures. Damn car's gonna blow up."

She tapped her nails on the railing and surveyed the scene below. "Did you change my oil?"

"Changed the oil. I'll switch out your brake pads next time I get a chance."

"You're too kind," she said, all traces of humor gone from her voice. He glanced up at her and sniffed.

"That you cookin, or the girl?"

"It's me. Does it smell edible?"

"Almost," he muttered.

"If you wash off at least the first layer of all that grime and oil, I'll share," she offered with a small smile.

He paused, but not long enough. The smell of something chiken-y was wafting through the evening air, making his stomach grumble.

"Deal."


The screen door closed behind her with a slam. Something in her stomach fluttered slightly as she glanced around her small apartment. It was always tidy, but she still straightened the pillows on her loveseat and put away a few odds and ends. He was just joining her for a meal – it was nothing to get excited about. Nothing…oh! Who was she kidding? She'd been dying for this moment since she'd first laid eyes on him, but that didn't mean that tonight meant anything. Or did it? She warred with herself as she pulled the chicken and dumplings out of the oven and set the pan to cool on the stove. Fanning herself with the potholder, she leaned against the counter and swallowed roughly as she closed her hands around her sweating glass of iced tea.

Until the day Danny, her ex, had resurfaced, she'd felt confident. She'd felt confident in moving on with her life and starting anew, hours away. A different car, a different name, and a different life. And then he'd found her. It had rattled her to the core. She'd been so sure he'd lost interest that he'd moved on from her long ago. The call had come as a complete shock and had her looking over her shoulder at every turn.

And now-

Now she was on edge. And tired from being on edge.

She stood, lost in her thoughts, until Haymitch rapped his knuckles on her door. Their eyes met through the screen and she swallowed, trying to push all of the icky memories of Danny aside and just be happy, damn it, that Haymitch was in her apartment to do something other than fix her leaky sink.

He'd showered, as promised, and she could still smell whatever pine-soap he had used. When he didn't smell like motor oil, he smelled divine, she thought with a smirk.

"Am I pretty enough to enter?"

"You'll do," she replied, pretending to look him over with approval.

He walked in and flopped unceremoniously into one of her kitchen chairs, running his hand through his still wet hair.

"What you make?"

"Chicken and dumplings. Mom's recipe," she said over her shoulder as she scooped a healthy portion onto a plate. "Iced tea, or something harder?"

He snorted, picking up a napkin from the holder. "Sorry, I don't feel like having any pink Boone's farm tonight," he laughed at his own joke. "Doesn't it bother you that white zin isn't even white?"

"NO," she laughed, opening her fridge. She hooked her finger on the six pack of beer and let it dangle within his reach. Slowly, he twisted off a can.

She grabbed her own plate and sat down.

Haymitch held the can in his hand and looked at her questioningly from across the table. "I didn't know you drank beer. Especially this beer," he nodded at the label.

She held his eyes from across the table. "I don't."

X0x0x0x0x0

Haymitch cracked the beer open, watching her as she ate. She kept his brand of beer in her apartment? The golden liquid stung pleasantly as the bubbles hit his tongue.

"You're an onion, you know that?"

She paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Pardon?"

He snorted. "Every layer of you is different," he looked down at his plate.

She gave a tiny smile before digging into her meal. They ate in comfortable silence with the hum of the air conditioner in the background. He had two helpings, only after she promised she didn't want any leftovers.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" she asked after they ate. She walked to the fridge and held out another beer offering, which he accepted.

"I can sit a spell," he nodded, easing himself onto her small sofa. Not surprisingly, Effie had spruced up the tiny studio attic with colors and personal touches. Looking around, he realized she'd made the tiny, previously dingy looking space quite homely. He hadn't paid much attention the last time he'd come up to fix the sink. It was simple for a studio space – her table and two chairs looked like they came out of a fifties diner, complete with a Kit-Cat clock hanging above it. Her loveseat was a pale yellow velour with pink cushions and the shelf next to it was crammed with potted plants and knick knacks.

She'd poured herself a glass of her beloved pink wine before joining him. Now that the smell of the enticing meal had faded, he was left with the scent of what he assumed was her perfume or body wash wafting towards him from only inches away as she folded her slim, tan legs under her body to sit beside him. Damn the tank tops, damn her flowery smell, and damn the tan legs. Effie had the legs of someone half her age and the perkiest tits he'd ever seen. Shit,the couch was small. He tried not to fidget – this woman loved to see him squirm. He gripped his beer and tried to look anywhere but at that damn tank top.

"Didn't know you could cook," he said, leaning back against the cushions.

"I've only invited you to dinner half a dozen times," she lamented, sipping her wine. "A girl can only get turned down so many times, you know."

"Aw, shit, Effie, don't do that. You know it ain't personal. I'm a mess and you don't want anything to do with me."

She cocked her head and looked him up and down. "I know it," she nodded.

Her succinct response made him turn his head. Hurt flashed through her eyes before she took another large sip of wine.

Haymitch paused as the silence stretched between them.

"You used to flirt with me," he said, nudging her side.

She looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

"You. Shameless, you used to be. I figured once you got me up here you'd tangle me in a web somewhere and drain me dry," he chuckled darkly. Shit, he sucked at talking to women. Wincing, he glanced over at her. She stared at him with astonishment, but nodded.

"I know I used to."

"So what changed?"

She was quiet, opening and closing her mouth in search of words. "I…"

He took a long drag of his beer. "That ex of yours got you rattled, huh?"

Effie shrugged. "You saw me when I rolled into town, Haymitch, don't be coy. He did a number on me."

He snorted. "A number? I couldn't even tell what color your face was supposed to be. You call that a number? I call it an offense punishable by law, but whatever floats your boat."

"We lived in a small town, Haymitch, you have to understand. The first time I called the police, one of his buddies on the force took the call and showed up and asked what I'd done to get Danny so riled up. He asked what I had done. They told him to go somewhere else and cool down. I guess you can say I took the hint and never called them again."

"Was he a drunk too then?"

She paused, then shook her head. "No. He rarely drank. Just mean. I could never do anything right. Nothing up to his standards. Life had been hard to him, and…I guess he decided life should be hard on me."

He thought a moment, then nodded. "So what made you chase after me then? I've never laid hands on a woman, but going from one problem to another isn't smart, Effie. I'm bad news."

"You're not."

"I'm a drunk, everyone knows it. You know it, I know it, my boss at work, everyone in town…not good," he told her. "Not good for you," he added quietly.

She took another long drink and sighed. "I think I have the experience to judge, don't you?"

The Kit-Cat clock ticking away was the only sound as they watched each other.

"I get drunk and nothing good happens."

"Well, I've seen you drink and nothing earth shatteringly horrible has happened, how bout that?" she shot back, slapping his thigh.

He took a long sip of his beer and looked at her.

"You're too good for me, Effie."

"Says who?"

He laughed. "You joke and flirt all you want, but this-" he motioned between them, "-wouldn't go well."

"Because of me, or because of you?"

"Me! Me, all me…" he muttered, putting his beer on the side table to hold his head in this hands.

She spoke quietly as the seconds ticked by. "No, Haymitch, you aren't bad. I've seen you blackout drunk drunk and reeling and there wasn't any anger in your eyes…your pretty, pretty eyes."

She turned away, but he watched her side profile carefully.

"I put my fist through a jukebox once."

"Well! Let us take comfort in the fact that I do not resemble a jukebox!" she exclaimed.

Lifting his head, he had to smile. "I'm not considered an upgrade."

"Then why did you comment on how I no longer flirt with you?"

He shrugged, his words stilted. "Even though it would be a bad idea, it was nice to entertain the thought."

Effie's shoulders dropped.

"Oh, Haymitch," she sighed, shaking her head at him. Reaching over, he pulled her against him in a crushing hug. She went, surprised, but happy to finally have contact with the man she'd pined over for over a year.

"Oh Effie," he echoed, pressing his lips to her forehead. They stayed like that on her couch, intertwined, for longer than she ever thought a man like Haymitch would hold her. She relaxed against him, her body tense from being so on edge.

"I should go," he said finally.

Effie peeled herself off of him, sitting up as she was suddenly unable to look at him. He stood, pulling her up with him.

"I'll put an extra lock on the door tomorrow," he said softly, going to the screen door. Pausing, he turned to face her.

Before he could think, he placed his hands on her cheeks and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was short and searing.

Pulling back, he met her eyes.

"Effie, you're lovely."


Oh goodness, did I have any business writing these two? Who knows, but I gave it a shot! I saw this scene so clearly in my head so I hope I was able to do it justice! I would love to know what you thought.

Thank you for your patience this summer - I had some personal things going on in my life and that really took up a lot of my energy and emotions, but things are slightly better so I hope to have the next chapter up soon - resuming with Katniss and Peeta, of course.