Prompt: they've loved your hc today! Could you write a fic where effie runs into her mother sometime after the war? (assuming they've broken ties)

Anniversaries & Reunions

"Panem's been free for five years and those parties still are boring as fuck." Haymitch snorted in her ear, his hand automatically coming to rest at the small of her back as they made their way to the buffet table. She could feel the warmth of his palm through the thin shimmering golden fabric of her long ball gown.

"Language." Effie chided him by force of habits, reaching to straighten the tie he always managed to crook.

He gave her a fondly irritated smirk that she answered with a grin, aware people were covertly staring. She and Haymitch only made public apparitions when they couldn't help doing otherwise – which really meant when Plutarch and President Paylor insisted that people wanted to see heroes of the rebellion on the anniversary of Panem's liberation and that if Haymitch didn't make the trip, they would need to send cameras to Twelve for Katniss and Peeta. So, for the children, Haymitch accepted every year to go to the Capitol. Except he still hated the city and Effie felt he shouldn't be left to suffer on his own, so she always accompanied him – and hadn't that caused an uproar the first time, because the last breathing escort hadn't exactly been welcomed.

Their relationship was old news now but people still seemed to be puzzled by it. A lot of rags had called it a publicity stunt the first year, presuming she would try for a comeback on the public scene. When she had remained secluded in Twelve instead, people had been forced to admit they were really together and, since cameras were banned from Victors' Village, nobody had many opportunities to catch them together.

Every time they came to the Capitol and attended the tedious official parties and events, people watched them, apparently fascinated.

A camera flashed not too far and Haymitch made a face, nudging her closer to the buffet even if it meant rudely cutting the line. The room was hot, people had been forced to wait on the red carpet for a while and were hungry, tired and gathering in huge compact groups to exchange the latest news. Haymitch's broad frame was the only reason they managed to get near the table at all. It was crowded and Effie felt trapped well before he grabbed two empty plates…

Reminders of her time in prison were never welcomed, particularly in a public place. She would die a thousand deaths before giving material to journalists who liked to write long and detailed articles speculating about what had happened to her during the rebellion, what her role had been in the war, and the exact reasons warranting her pardon – popular belief had it Haymitch had bargained for her life because she was his lover, and they weren't wrong.

"Haymitch…" she hesitated.

He glanced at her, frowned a little, and shook his head. "Go get some fresh air. I'll get the food."

She didn't need to be told twice. She pressed a kiss at the corner of his mouth in thanks, almost amused when flashes erupted again.

"No oysters." she reminded him. She had made herself sick by eating too many of them on their last trip to Four and now she couldn't stand the taste.

"I know what you want." he grumbled. "Give me some credits, sweetheart."

"Oh, I know that you know what I want…" she teased. "I might let you give it to me when this party is over."

He smirked, grey eyes twinkling in amusement, and leaned in to steal a real kiss. It was barely more than a peck, nothing too… dirty but she was sure the press would have a field day with that.

"Now they'll get something good to talk about." he mocked, nodding at the sliding door at the other end of the room. "Go."

She did, letting her hand trail on in his back as she left, relieved to escape the crowded area. She walked along the dance floor where couples were waltzing and made her way to the balcony that overlooked a wide beautiful garden. There were a few people mingling there but nobody bothered her and she walked to the stone balustrade, breathing in the night air and trying not to focus on the smell of cigarettes coming from the closest group of people because they were in one of those period where Haymitch was trying to cut down and she was showing her support by not smoking when things got difficult.

The view was spectacular. A view she had grown up with and had barely paid attention to all those years. Beautiful places, grand buildings, fancy parties, delicious food, sweet beverages… Everything she had always taken for granted. Everything she had thought meant happiness.

She wondered what it meant that she missed the view of their backyard from their bedroom's window, that she missed the incessant honking of his awful birds, and the quiet street where nothing much ever happened.

Twelve was home now, for better or for worse.

It was boring, not nearly as beautiful as the Capitol, and you couldn't buy tomatoes at the market without old Mrs Wisham somehow finding out you were planning on making a salad but she loved it. It was exactly what she needed. She wouldn't exchange daily dinners with the children for all the gold in the Capitol. She wouldn't exchange the bickering with Haymitch or the late nights spent on the porch, drinking tea and watching the stars for the grandest Capitol parties. She wouldn't exchange their life for anything.

"I heard you were here."

The voice was familiar but had become foreign enough in the last few years that she startled, turning around to face the woman, her heart racing in her chest. Elindra had aged since the last time she had seen her but she supposed five years would do that to anyone. Effie could tell she had gone through more plastic surgeries, always so caught up in her quest for eternal youth. Even the dress she was wearing, all purple and blue feathers, was designed to make her look half her age. Effie privately thought it looked more tacky than distinguished.

She was forty and she was aware time had effects on her body. She looked good – she looked more than good according to Haymitch but she wasn't sure he was a reliable source – but she would have never worn the same dresses she used to do when she was in her twenties.

"I would have thought we were difficult to miss." she retorted. "Hello, Mother. I wasn't aware you had the right connections to get invited to this sort of events."

She wasn't surprised though. Elindra had always had a gift for climbing to the top of the ladder. She moved in the right social circles, befriended the right people… Effie used to be like that once upon a time. A few months in prison had cured her from that thirst for fame and influence.

"There are a lot of things you are not aware of." her mother scoffed, her blue eyes studying her from head to toes. "You would if only you bothered checking in once in a while. You are too busy frolicking with your drunkard and causing scandals to care about your family, I suppose."

"You shut your door in my face." she hissed. "I came to you for help and you cast me away. You do not get to play the victim here, Mother."

After Haymitch had left for Twelve, she had tried to stay in the Capitol for a while. She had tried to get her old life back. Her failure had reached a spectacular point, a little after Peeta had been released from the clinic, when the rebel government had seized her apartment, siphoned her bank accounts and left her homeless, with two suitcases mostly full of worthless mementoes and a few clothes, and not a penny to her name.

She had gone to her parents naturally. And she had been told under no uncertain terms that her current reputation would be detrimental to theirs. Her father's business had been in the balance, her sister had been angry with her, and her mother had been furious.

She had been forced to go to Plutarch to borrow money to buy a train ticket for Twelve, finally done trying to fit in when it was obvious that this world wasn't hers anymore – and that had been humiliating.

"Do not be melodramatic. It does not befit a lady." Elindra rebuked her, waving her hand as if her objections could be so easily swept aside. "Although I do not suppose you are a lady anymore. I do not see a ring on your finger." Her mother didn't seem to know if she should be grateful or not for it. "Well?" she huffed when Effie didn't offer an answer. "Does he enjoy ruining your reputation or are you just a convenient option he will discard sooner or later? You are not getting any younger, Euphemia. Now would be the time to stop this stupid behavior of yours."

"I kinda enjoy ruining her reputation actually." Haymitch taunted, coming to stand at her side, a dark look on his face. "Been a hobby of mine for decades, right, sweetheart?" He handed her a plate loaded with entirely too much food – and yet less than there was on the one he kept for himself – but when she tossed him a pointed look, he rolled his eyes. "You got almost nothing for lunch. You're eating the whole thing."

She drew out an infuriated sigh, not quite glaring but annoyed all the same. They were having the same debates on a weekly basis: his drinking, her smoking, his inability to clean after himself, her eating habits… She had been underweight since the war and all his attempts at fattening her up had failed.

"I do hope she won't." Elindra scowled, looking at the loaded plate with loathing. "Do you want a repeat of your teenage years? Is chubby the trend in your District? You are going straight there if you eat like this on an everyday basis."

Haymitch opened his mouth and she placed a hand on his chest, preventing him from chewing her mother's head off like she was sure he would.

"Don't." she told him, shaking her head. "It is not worth it."

"Not worth it?" Elindra huffed, completely missing the point. "We are talking about your image – an image that has already been thoroughly damaged, I must add. What are you even wearing? I do not recognize the stylist's brand."

Haymitch breathed out with obvious irritation. "Sweetheart, please… Let me tell her to go fuck herself."

Elindra let out a shocked gasp.

"Language." She clicked her tongue, facing her mother without so much as an ounce of shame. She used to be afraid of her judgment, to crave her approval. Now… Now it all seemed ridiculous to her. "It is my own brand, Mother."

"Your own…" Elindra frowned, confused. "You do not have a designer house."

"No, but I do own a shop." she replied smoothly. "A shop that is doing quite well, mind."

"You designed this dress?" her mother asked and, for a second, Effie thought she was going to compliment her. Stupid. She should have known better. "Only you would come to such an event in secondhand clothes, Euphemia. How peculiar."

"That dress is fucking awesome, she looks gorgeous and you can fuck off." Haymitch snapped, clearly at the end of his tether.

"For the third time, Haymitch, there is no need for such language. " she sighed. "It does not matter."

She was surprised to find she meant it. She was used to it. Did she miss her family? Yes. Did she miss the constant rebukes and criticisms? Not really.

"Yeah, it fucking matters." he growled. "I'm not gonna stand here and let that bitch talk shit about you."

She rewarded that with a kiss – mostly because she knew it would have the double benefits of calming him down and outraging her mother. Elindra gasped, glancing around as if she didn't know where to look. Effie deepened the kiss a lot more than it was proper to do in public, making it obvious tongue was involved and that she was enjoying herself – just for the kicks. As intended, her mother sputtered and stormed away, unwilling to be associated with her.

Effie drew back with a satisfied grin and dabbed at her mouth with the tip of her fingers to make sure her lipstick wasn't smudged. Then she wiped the red stains from Haymitch's lips. He looked dazed and there was a familiar hungry spark in his eyes.

People were staring but she ignored them, turning back to look at the gardens, balancing the plate on the balustrade so she didn't have to hold it. Haymitch stood behind her, an arm loosely wrapped around her waist, his own plate next to hers. They ate in silence for a while.

"How soon can we sneak away?" he asked once there wasn't a crumb left on his plate. Hers was still half full but she was done eating.

She leaned against his chest, wishing more of their friends had come to the Capitol. She missed the children, naturally, but she would have welcomed Johanna's company. She didn't know many people in the city anymore and she wasn't keen on rekindling her former friendships. Often, on those anniversaries, it was the two of them against the rest of the world.

"We should be seen on the dance floor once or twice." she hummed. "Then we can leave and probably not be missed."

He pressed a furtive kiss against her neck. "Let's go dance then. I want to go back to the hotel and get that dress off you."

"I thought you liked it." she teased, letting him guide her back inside.

"Sure do." he snorted. "Will like it even more on the floor, Princess."

"You will never change." she accused with unrestrained fondness.

And she never wanted him to.