Prompt: Hello, favorite writer. You often wrote that Haymitch wears his sweatpants very low on the hips. Can you write something where he loses them in front of Effie? Maybe even before the 74th Games? Thank you!

The Breakfast Trap

Effie buttered her toast with three quick efficient sliding of her knife and took a sharp bite, glancing at the watch around her wrist. The smirk on her lips would have been described as cunning if a lady was permitted such a thing. Since a lady wasn't and there were no witnesses however, if interrogated on the subject she would have sworn the smile was a perfectly mindless one. After all, it wouldn't have done to let Haymitch know she wasn't as brainless as he thought her to be.

A few days as his escort had taught her one thing: if she wanted something done, she should be the one doing it. It so happened that she needed him up so he could actually do his job and mentor. Unfortunately, she had also determined early on that Haymitch would go to bed in the middle of the night or in the early hours of morning and only rise up at noon or even later if he could get away with it.

Her eyes darted to the two plates waiting for the children to appear with displeasure. He had yet to coach their tributes at all and while she could do some things for their general appearance, behavior and education, she couldn't for the life of her think about what to advise them to do in an arena. Do not die under any circumstance seemed to be the obvious but it was a tad light. Haymitch was the one with the experience and the wisdom and the children were getting restless and she hated to see them so scared. The solution was simple. She needed to get Haymitch to stay in the same room as them long enough for him to coach them.

She took a sip of coffee, mentally counting down from ten. She had just reached zero when the sharp ringing echoed throughout the penthouse, loud enough to wake up the dead, soon followed by another and another.

It was a couple of minutes and quite a few opening and closing of doors – she figured the children must have woken up too but would have the good sense of ducking out of the way until the storm had passed – before the alarm clocks that were mysteriously hidden in several places of Haymitch's room were turned off.

"TRINKET, YOU BETTER START RUNNING!" came the roar once silence had descended once more.

Effie calmly finished her toast, listening to the graceless crashes of what sounded like a tiny elephant pack destroying everything on its path. He was fuming by the time he appeared on the threshold, hair sticking in every direction, eyes reddish from too much alcohol or lack of sleep, wearing nothing but a frayed tee-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants that had seen better days.

She put that on the list of clothes to replace in his wardrobe – she didn't care what her predecessors' policies had been, no victor of hers would walk around dressed like a hobo. Why, the waistband of the pants was so old it seemed barely enough to keep them on his hips. They were riding so low she could see flashes of his lower stomach every time he moved and the shirt inched up.

"Haymitch, dear, you are up!" she exclaimed, faking surprise. "Bright and early, just like I asked you yesterday. Fabulous. The children won't be a minute, I am sure. You might want some coffee before that. They can be such chatterboxes."

"Don't pull off that shit ever again if you care for your life." he spat.

She swallowed back a sigh. Truly, threatening someone at the breakfast table was the upmost of bad manners in her opinion. Never mind the language. It was enough to upset her stomach.

She batted her thick blue fake eyelashes innocently. "Why, I am flabbergasted. Whatever are you accusing me off? Here, sit down. Have a muffin. Blueberries are your favorite, I believe?"

She fished a pastry from the basket in the center of the table and placed it in front of the chair he would have occupied all along if he had bothered to show up on time. Presiding over meals was a privilege and he should have been more dutiful about it.

For a second, he seemed surprised that she knew as much about his tastes but, truly, it wasn't that puzzling. She was good at reading people and she excelled at determining what people liked and didn't like. It wasn't terribly difficult to figure out what his favorite flavors were. She simply had to pay attention – something he seemed to be completely incapable of.

"Listen to me and listen hard, Trinket." he growled, taking a threatening step forward, his finger pointed straight at her.

Unfortunately for him, he stumbled on the hem of the sweatpants. He managed to remain upright by catching himself on the back of a chair but the poor pants that had already been hanging loose weren't that lucky.

She couldn't help but burst out laughing at the sight.

Not really ladylike perhaps but really… There was a hint of karma in there. If he hadn't been trying to antagonize her so much since their first meeting, she might not have resorted to hiding alarm clocks in his room and he wouldn't have ended up with a bare butt in the middle of the dining room.

The shirt hid most of it and he pulled the sweatpants back up before she could have a proper peek, which was perhaps a little disappointing. However she was so busy laughing she didn't really mind at the time.

"Not that funny." he muttered, clearly vexed. The sulk on his face made him look like a disgruntled little boy and it was… Strangely adorable. It also had the dubious effect of making her laugh even harder. She dabbed under her eyes with her napkin, trying to find her breath back because her side was starting to hurt. Haymitch crossed his arms over his chest, his lips twitching as if he was trying to hide his own amusement. "Now you're insulting. Not quite the reaction I usually get when I lose my pants, sweetheart." She had just managed to calm down when his remark sent her over the edge once more. She fanned herself with the napkin. Truly. He pouted and dropped on his chair, splitting the muffin in two. "Hope you enjoyed the view 'cause it's the last time I get naked for you."

She stole half of the muffin because she must have burn enough calories with that laughter to be able to afford it and ignored his obvious irritation at the move. He should learn to share anyway. She was there to stay – hopefully not too long since she had every intention of getting promoted.

"I will try to swallow back my massive disappointment at never seeing your privates again." she retorted very seriously. "I will also make sure you are supplied with new pajamas. For everyone's safety."

"You know… I sleep in the nude." he taunted, tilting his head to the side with that disarming smirk he had a gift for flashing at the right moment.

Oh, he could work the charm alright. Now if he would actually put it to good use, they could secure sponsors, win and she could move on to a better District where the victors wouldn't insist on making her incensed.

"Really?" she hummed. "What a fascinating anecdote. I will make sure Caesar highlights it in the Games Specials."

"You do that." he said around a mouthful of muffin. Bits and crumbs flew everywhere and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. He chewed even harder – on purpose, she was sure – leaving no doubt as to what was happening inside his mouth. Appalling. "You pull a stunt like this again, it won't end that well for you though, I mean it. Got it?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." she denied, taking a sip of coffee. She heard the hesitant footsteps and cheerfully raised her voice a little. "Ah, children! Come in, come in! Look who is here to talk to you about your training! I told you he promised to come to breakfast today…"

Haymitch glared at her.

She simply grinned.