Prompt: May I prompt? I like to see a role reverse version of this chapter in Invictus in which Effie found Haymitch high in bed after being with a sponsor! Like maybe one in which is Haymitch the one how founds Effie broken in the penthouse?

This prompt comes with its own warnings ;)

For One Night

Haymitch wasn't anywhere near drunk enough to chance sleep but he stepped out of the elevator anyway, nursing a headache from the loud cheery music that had kept blaring in the bar Chaff had dragged him to. The penthouse was silent which suited him.

He followed the corridor to the living-room, not surprised to see the lights on despite the late hour. Effie was curled up sideways in one of the armchairs, her wig abandoned on the coffee table with a half-empty bottle of tequila, a glass, a battered packet of cigarettes, her silver lighter, and the various rings she had been wearing that day. It made him frown.

"The children are in bed." she declared without even turning her head to check it was him. "Training did not go well."

There was bitterness in her voice but also resignation. Those two kids were already dead, that much was clear to both of them, but she usually clung to hope a little bit longer.

"Thought we agreed you would do that only on the roof." he grumbled for the sake of it, nodding to the couple of cigarette buds crushed in a saucer.

"My apologies." she replied mechanically.

He made his way to the liquor cart, still frowning, eyeing her warily. "You're drunk, sweetheart?"

She sounded too coherent to be drunk.

"Not particularly." she answered, reaching for the bottle of tequila. "But that could be arranged."

He poured himself a whiskey and walked to her armchair, snatching the bottle with his free hand before she could bring it to her lips.

"Okay. The drunk and bitter act is mine, Effie." he mocked. "Spill. What's up? The kids said something?"

Some of the tributes turned on her sometimes, not that he could blame them, but she usually bore it with more grace and dignity than that.

She shook her head and licked her lips before forcing herself to smile. "I am perfectly fine. It has simply been a long night."

"Should have gone to bed." he shrugged.

She shuddered.

A full body shudder that made his frown deepen and that prompted him to place his glass of whiskey on the coffee table. Her head was cushioned on the back of the armchair and her left hand was pressed against her neck in a way that aimed at casual but looked highly suspicious.

"What happened?" he asked again, more seriously.

"Nothing." she insisted cheerfully. "How was your night? Did you have fun with Chaff? Will I have to deal with damage control in the morning because you caused a scene?"

He sat on the armrest, his body angled toward hers, her legs pressed against his stomach, and he reached out for her wrist. He was gentle when he tugged on her arm and she let go easily enough, averting her eyes and keeping them riveted on the coffee table.

The bite mark was ugly, there was no other term for it. She had clearly tried to hide it with powder but its reddish shape was glaring on her creamy white skin.

His blood boiled, his heart speeded up, pounding hard against his ribcage, his hands started to shake with the need to strangle whoever had done that…

"What happened?" he growled.

She flinched but jutted her chin high in the air. "I owe you no explanations. I do not ask you what you do in your spare time with the tramps you pick up in your shady bars. What I do in my…"

He cupped her cheek and she fell silent, her eyes suspiciously shiny.

There hadn't been any other woman in a very long time and he suspected she hadn't had another relationship in a while either.

"You didn't go for a sponsor, right?" he asked in a low dangerous voice. "You wouldn't be that stupid. Not when I told you we're never going to play it like that."

She glared at him, batting his hand away from her face.

"But I am stupid." she scoffed. "You do so love to repeat it."

His jaw clenched and he had half a mind to leave her there to deal with her own mess. If she had gone and tried to strike deals behind his back, it was her problem, not his.

"Got money out of it, at least?" he taunted. "How much did you make? How much did they pay to get you to spread your legs? Hope you'll give me a discount 'cause if I have to pay every time you've got an itch to scratch, I'll be broke."

He should have seen the slap coming. By the time he recovered from the hit, his cheek burning, she was at the other end of the room, near the bay window, wedging a cigarette between her lips and clicking her lighter. Her hands were shaking too much, she couldn't light it.

"I guess I deserved that." he commented.

"The papers are on the table in the dining-room awaiting your signature." she said coldly. "Now take your liquor and get out of my sight."

She turned her back to him, watching the city through the window, still fumbling with her lighter. When it became obvious she wouldn't manage to light it, she tossed everything on a nearby table with a muttered curse, before wrapping her arms around herself in a pathetic parody of a hug.

He stood up slowly and walked to her.

He wanted to leave. Storm out. Make a scene because she had slept with someone else and she wasn't allowed to do that – except she was, wasn't she? They had no clear rules, no agreement. And she was clearly hurting. And he didn't like seeing her hurt. It stirred the dark beast in him who always had violent thoughts, it gave him murdering urges.

"Don't." she warned but he placed his hands on her shoulders all the same.

"What did you go and do that for?" he scolded her. "Those kids have no chance in hell of winning."

She was silent for the longest time then she leaned her back against his chest. "The money was a gift not payment. Well… I suppose it counts as payment but it was not…" She stopped and sighed. "Can I sleep with you tonight, Haymitch?"

He didn't think she meant that in a sexual way. There was none of her usual seductive antics, not the simplest trace of flirty undertones in her voice… She wanted to sleep in his bed not sleep with him.

"Did it happen here?" he growled.

She turned her head and tucked it neatly under his chin. Her heels were gone, it took him a second to realize.

"Don't pick a fight with me tonight." she requested, her voice more vulnerable than he was comfortable with. Effie was never fragile. She was bright and violent, she was a hurricane.

"I don't get why you had to do that." he spat.

"Does it occur to you I may not have had a choice?" she hissed. "Not everyone is like you, Haymitch. Not everyone has nothing to lose."

The money was a gift and not payment.

"Are you saying someone forced themselves on you?" His voice was calm, too calm. His fingers were prickling with the need to grab his knife.

"No." she denied. "I am saying someone high ranked in the government made it clear they were interested. It is unwise to upset someone so close to President Snow. Nobody forced me into anything. I simply took the safest decision, the only clever one. And I was paid like a common whore. It is done. I am fine. Forget about it."

Forget about it. As if it was so easy. He wasn't naïve enough to believe escorts escaped the system the victors were trapped in but he had always done his best to keep Effie out of it. They were a joke. Twelve was a joke. Unappealing, laughable, pathetic… Nobody was supposed to want them.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"No." she answered.

"He sponsored us. His name's going to be on the papers anyway." he sneered. "I'll find out."

"It was a woman and the deposit is anonymous." she retorted. "Don't waste your time searching for chimeras. It is over."

Until next time, she didn't say but he heard it anyway.

His thumb brushed against the bite mark on her neck. He was seething.

"Did she hurt you?" he asked because he needed to know. Some people in the Capitols were freaks when it came down to sex. They got off on inflicting pain.

"No." she offered. She might have been lying. He had no way of knowing. "I just want to go to bed. Truly. It will be fine in the morning. Right now I just… I just want to go to bed. With you."

The last part was added in a soft almost pleading voice.

They didn't sleep together, not unless it happened accidentally. Finding comfort in each other's body was one thing, finding it in each other's embrace… It was entirely another.

He bowed his head until he found her mouth. She responded to his kiss immediately, as eagerly as usual, with a touch of despair that kept growing with each new year. Her hand coiled around his neck, tugging him closer, her tongue pushed inside his mouth… Any other time he would have pinned her against the bay window and got rid of the ugly purple dress. He let his lips trail down her jaw and to the bite mark instead, pressing a kiss to the abused skin.

"I would kill her." he whispered against her neck, hopefully low enough that none of the bugs would pick it up. "Ask and it's done."

It frightened him how serious he was. His soul was damaged beyond repair, his conscience already heavy, his hands drenched in blood… But for his friends, for his family… There was nothing he wouldn't do, no lines he wouldn't cross. And Effie, as loathe as he was to admit it because he usually preferred to pretend he simply hated her, very much fell into that category. She was his ally if nothing else. And allies should be protected, defended and avenged.

Her fingers slowly ran in his hair. "It is not worth killing anyone over. Mother would call it occupational hazards."

"That's bullshit." he spat.

"Sex is just sex, Haymitch." she countered. "Bodies are nothing but tools."

He figured that was another piece of wisdom her mother had imparted on her. He shook his head with a sigh. There it was again. The gap between him and her, the cultural differences they would never be able to breach.

"You're worth more than that." he insisted.

For the first time that night, her smile was genuine if a little sad. "You are sweet."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm really not." He was anything but sweet. He was dangerous, bitter and dark. She was the sweet one under the wit and the sass and the colorful clothes. He brushed his fingertips against her cheek, wishing it wasn't sticky with powder. "I'd do it for you. You're worth that much. You're worth much more. Just say the word."

"Hush, now." she chided him, glancing up at the ceiling like she always did every time she was scared someone would find their conversation objectionable. "Enough nonsense. I just want to go to bed."

He nodded his assent.

If that was what she wanted, it was what she would get. For tonight, he could be more than just the asshole she sometimes slept with when they weren't arguing. He could hold her and comfort her and keep her safe while she slept.

But if he caught anyone trying to hurt her again…

There would be hell to pay.