Prompt: Hello,it's me. I was wondering if after all these prompts you'd like to write about Effie finding out that Haymitch isn't wearing any underwear when she helps him to bed. And the consequences. :D Please, please, please.

AND
Prompt : Hello, I know your list of prompts is long but I want to add another one. I can wait. ;) In one of the chapters you wrote that Effie made Haymitch wear underwear. Could you write the story behind it? Like how did she discover he wasn't wearing any and how did she convince him to start wearing some?

The Underwear Debacle

Effie breathed out a deep sigh and placed her hands on her hip, lowering a less than impressed look on him.

"I hate you." she declared quite seriously.

Haymitch pouted, his hand coiling around her ankle as if he was scared she would just leave him there.

I should, she thought, that would serve him right.

It was difficult to be mad at him when he was looking that pitiful though. Two years of working with him had taught her that when he was that drunk he was unfortunately more endearing than infuriating.

Even if he was wasted to the point of sitting in one of the penthouse's corridors, unable to get up on his own, a bottle spilling its suspicious substance next to him.

When he was that drunk, he was also clingy as Effie had discovered – not handsy, that was another stage of drunkenness, when he wasn't yet completely unaware of what he was doing, but clingy, starved for gentle touches like hugs or fingers in his hair. Usually though, he passed out on an armchair or on the couch. She had been forced to clean vomit from his face once or twice while he was in the living-room but she had never had to help him to bed before.

She would so lecture him about that the next day…

Getting him upright was difficult and getting him moving was even worse. She thought they would never reach his bedroom, never mind his bed – the floor was littered with so many things she stumbled on something with every step she took.

He flopped on his bed face first and only rolled on his side after a moment. His grey eyes tracked her every move when she started the tedious process of loosening his shoelaces so she could take his shoes off.

"Honestly." she huffed, wrinkling her nose at the surrounding mess. "I will never understand why you forbid Avoxes from cleaning in there. It wouldn't go amiss, Haymitch. It smells like a pigsty – if the pigs were owning a distillery, that is."

He didn't answer her but she wasn't expecting him to. He was past coherent speech right now.

She pursed her lips at the sight of the holes in his socks and put that on the list of clothes to order for him – she insisted on being in charge of his wardrobe, he had been walking around in half decent clothes before she had come to work for Twelve and she had put her foot down on that front early on.

He was clumsily pulling at his waistcoat so she undid the nacre buttons for him and helped him out of it. She did the same with the shirt when he tried to take it off.

Reaching for the belt was instinctive but his hands closed on hers. They were warm and calloused and she shivered without exactly knowing why, her mind wandering into ridiculous fantasies where those strong hands ran on the offered creamy skin of her thighs. Useless to say she shook those unwelcomed thoughts away very fast.

"Do not be difficult." she chided him. "You will be more comfortable in pajamas. Do you think it is the first time I will see a man without pants on?"

Her eyes were already darting around to locate the checkered sweatpants he had been wearing at breakfast that morning while she worked on unbuckling the belt. It was only when she pulled the zipper down that she realized her mistake.

"Oh." she said, her cheeks flushing red. "Oh, I am so sorry. I did not know you… Oh." Crimson and flustered, she also added underwear to her mental list of clothes. "Truly, Haymitch. How unhygienic." She clucked her tongue and finally spotted the sweatpants in a heap on the floor next to the bathroom door. She fetched them quickly and pulled his pants off, trying not to look at what was so clearly on display – spectacularly failing because it would have been hard to miss something so glaring – and all the while acutely aware he was watching her like a hawk. "You will wear boxers from now on. Going commando with haute-couture, truly! What a crime against fashion!"

She was careful not to touch anything and she was thankful that he was too out of it to crack one of his trademark mocking comments that would probably have left her stuttering like a schoolgirl.

She fled out of that room as fast as she could.

Unfortunately, she didn't outrun the dirty thoughts swirling in her mind.