Prompt : I want to make your list of prompts even longer, so here we go: Haymitch and Effie are at a party and are already planning to have sex afterwards but when they get back to the Penthouse, they are both really tired and not in the mood, so they just go to bed together to sleep. And it just kind of happens, although it's a big step in their "realtionship". I hope you consider writing it. Thank you in advance!

Hello! Just a quick word to tell your peeps who aren't on tumblr that there is a Christmas Hayffie Week in the making. It's open to everyone and to every art form so if you're interested, I'm publishing the post with all the details tomorrow. You will be able to find it on my blog =)

A Long Night

The sky was turning pinkish when the car lined up in front of the Training Center and Haymitch stopped nuzzling Effie's neck almost with relief. Her fingers were lazily squeezing him through his pants but they withdrew quickly too. She flashed him a teasing smile as she opened the door and he forced himself to smirk back.

They had been flirting all night when they weren't hunting for sponsors and it had been implied that sexy times would wait for them at the end of the night. Thing was, the party had gone on forever, long enough in any case for him to actually sober up from his tipsy state – he had promised Peeta he would keep the drinking to a minimum and, for once, sponsors were taking the bait so he actually as holding up his end of the bargain – he was so tired he didn't think he could get it up that night. Still, there was a matter of pride there.

The moment they reached the elevator, she was all over him. Her lips on his throat, her fingers tugging at his clothes…

"How long until the kids get up for Training?" he asked, toying with the zipper at her back.

"Three hours give or take, I would say." she sighed and then grinned a bit too maniacally. "Plenty of time for a quickie."

She rose on tiptoes to kiss him but he drew back a little, studying her. He knew Effie like the back of his hand. She might be a mystery to everyone else, she might manage to fool everyone else, but he knew her. He knew when she was faking and right then she was faking.

"You're dead on your feet." he accused.

She stared back at him, her grin slowly turning into a pout. "We said we would have sex."

"Not quite how I worded it." he snorted. He had said he would fuck her. Not have sex.

Her pout deepened.

"I am tired." she admitted. "But we are not old people. We cannot stop having sex."

The elevator chimed but they didn't make any move to step out.

He made a face. "We could sleep three hours, sweetheart. You know how much sleep we're gonna get once the Games start? If it goes how we want and we can save one of them… None."

"You have never refused me before." she complained. "If you are getting bored of me just say it plainly. Do not go and invent excuses."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. I'm too sober for this shit."

The elevator doors started to close and he slipped between them, annoyed to hear the chime that signaled she had forced them to reopen and was following close by. By mutual tacit agreement they remained quiet in the corridor not to wake anyone. He wasn't surprised when she walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

"Look, you're not tricking me into fighting with you just so I fuck you against the wall." he spat. "We've got three hours before we have to deal with the kids and the girl's so fucking thick she's giving me a headache so we're gonna sleep, Effie. That's not open for discussion. Get naked and get between the sheets."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, clearly torn between protesting and giving in to the exhaustion she must have felt. "You want me to sleep here with you?"

She aimed for detached, he saw that clearly but it ended up sounding strangely vulnerable.

They didn't sleep together unless it happened by accident and certainly never without having sex beforehand. They had never climbed in the same bed just to sleep before. It toyed with a line that was a little too dangerous for comfort.

But the idea of lying between cold sheets with a bottle of something wasn't exactly appealing. They had a shot that year. For the first time in twenty-four years, Twelve had a shot and he felt… cautiously hopeful – which, for him, was a lot. And Effie was his ally, his partner, and he didn't want to be alone.

"As long as you shut up and let me sleep." he grumbled, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants. The shirt, he tossed on the chair already buried under dirty clothes. He kicked his boxers off and climbed into the unmade bed, sprawled on his stomach, his head turned away from her.

He heard the ruffle of fabric but he resolutely didn't look. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to sleep. He didn't make any move to acknowledge her presence even when she draped her naked body over his, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades and hooking her knee over his butt.

He reached under the pillow and nudged the knife off the bed just in case.

"Goodnight." she purred, sounding very pleased with herself.

He would fuck her when he woke up, he decided. That would teach her.