hayffie prompt: haymitch got so used to sleeping w effie post mockingjay and when she slips from the bed he'll wake up and coax her back (i.e. haymitch can't sleep without effie)

Late Snowy Nights

His eyes fluttered open and he didn't immediately know why. He wasn't experiencing the disorientation and guts gripping fear that went with startling awake from a nightmare. This was something else. Something softer. Something just buzzing at the edge of his consciousness.

It took him a moment to realize he was alone.

He outstretched an arm across the other side of the bed anyway, just to make sure, but he knew it was pointless. It was the absence of her regular breathing beside him that had woken him up. He had grown used to it, used to her warm body snuggled against his side, used to the soothing sound of her breathing at night, used to sharing his bed with her. He actually had been sleeping a little better lately. It was nothing remarkable on the outside, he still needed at least two glasses to convince himself to go face what was lurking in his dreams and he still had nightmares more often than not, but sometimes he managed a full night of rest. And he was certain it was because of her.

He had been scared of hurting her in the beginning. He had locked the knife and reminded her he could be dangerous even though she had known the drill for a while now. But no disaster had happened yet. She soothed him. It helped not to be alone. It helped to have someone whispering him back to the real world when the nightmares started to take hold.

He sat up slowly, peering in the bathroom's direction. There was no ray of light under the door, she wasn't there.

With a sigh that was less aggravated than regretful – because the bed was warm and he was sleepy for once – he swung his legs out of bed and after a second of shivering in the not so warm air, he grabbed a sweater and pulled it over his head.

It smelt like her.

She had a habit of borrowing his clothes. He grumbled but he secretly liked it.

He crept in the dark corridor and down the stairs quietly in case she had fallen back asleep on the couch – that happened – but a quick check in the living-room told him she wasn't there. He took the time to stroke the fire anyway. The wind was roaring outside and heaps of snow were crashing against the window. He didn't think it was snowing, it was more likely the wind picking up the snow already on the ground.

He found her in the kitchen. She hadn't bothered with the lights but it wasn't so dark that they truly needed it. She was standing at the sink, looking through the window, arms folded over her chest, obviously waiting for the old kettle to whistle.

He had to smirk at her outfit.

She absolutely refused to sleep with anything resembling flannel that wasn't one of his shirts. She hated sleeping in pants or long-sleeves shirts so she kept to her frilly pajamas shorts and tank tops or nightgowns in bed but the second she was out from under the blankets, she buried herself under his warmest clothes. She was wearing socks pulled up almost to her knees that belonged to him and a long sleeved blue shirt that also belonged to him and that barely covered the lacy white shorts she had on underneath.

Somewhere, her past self was screaming in shame and horror at this crime against fashion, he was sure.

"Hey, sweetheart." he called softly, not to alarm her.

She did startle a little but less than he had feared. She turned away from the window and leaned her back against the counter with a small smile.

"Did I wake you?" she whispered even though it was a little ridiculous because they were the only ones in the house. Dark quiet places would do that to you though, he figured. "I do apologize. I couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares?" he asked with a frown, reaching in the cupboard to take out two mugs.

"No." she hummed. "Not really. I just… couldn't fall asleep."

"Should have woken me." he winked. "Could have thought of something to keep you busy, you know."

Her smile blossomed and he pressed a kiss against her neck, sneaking his hands under the undershirt to find her skin. She giggled a little – which was good, it meant she truly wasn't upset about whatever was lurking in her mind – and reached to turn off the stove when the kettle whistled. He dropped a few more kisses against her neck and then stepped back to let her pour the hot water. He added the tea bags. Strawberry for her and green for him.

"Let's take that back to bed, yeah?" he suggested. "Too cold to stay up, sweetheart."

She tossed a last glance through the window and concurred easily enough. Her least favorite thing in Twelve was the weather. She was too sensitive to the cold.

As soon as they were back under the covers, she huddled against his side, careful not to spill her steaming tea.

She pressed her freezing feet against his leg and he hissed. "Fuck, Effie!"

"Cold." she replied, unnecessarily. She looked almost smug. "It is your duty to keep me warm."

"Says who?" he grumbled.

"Says everyone who ever had a long time partner." she declared, taking a sip of her tea and immediately making a face because she had probably burned her tongue.

"Can think of other ways to keep you warm." he teased.

"You are in a mood." she grinned knowingly.

He smirked at her, letting his eyes roam over her face and down her neck to where her skin give way to fabric, but eventually shook his head. "Nah, not really. Just don't like sleeping alone. Would rather be up with you. Wake me next time."

She leaned her head on his shoulder and he shifted to wrap his arm around her while she arranged the covers higher so they would both be cozy and warm. She nuzzled his neck with her cold nose and pressed a kiss there, her lips lingered. She mouthed I love you against his skin before dropping another kiss as if to seal the deal.

"Drink your tea." he mumbled, still a little ill-at-ease with those words.

He did press a kiss of his own on the top of her head.

It wasn't because he couldn't say it that he didn't feel it.