Prompt: haymitch saying he'll never do romantic things (like taking Effie on a date, asking her to move in, marrying her, etc.) but he ends up doing them? Idk how you'd write it but I think I'd be so cute
Happy Forties
Love came with an expiration date and men cheated.
That were the two precepts that had governed Effie Trinket's love life for as long as she had been going out with boys – and since her first boyfriend had eventually fell out of love with her to declare his undying devotion to her sister. In the eighteen years she had known him and in the fifteen years of their – at some times casual – relationship, Haymitch had never given her cause to doubt his faithfulness. When they had been non-exclusive, they had always been clear about it and, when they had become exclusive, they had been less clear about it but always honest. When she had moved to Twelve after the war, the fact that they were now a couple with everything it implied had been left unsaid but… Well.
Five years of living together and he had never given her any reason to think he was interested in someone else.
But lately…
It had started with a ridiculous fight about her obsessive cleaning habits. It wasn't exactly unusual for them to fight about that but it was usually her complaining about him being a slob, not him losing it because she had put some order in the study they hardly ever used. The top drawer of the desk had been locked ever since and everything in that room was too neat now. The bills that Haymitch usually tossed on the desk were nowhere to be found and when she had asked him about it – because she was always the one making sure the bills were paid on time – he had told her not to worry, that he would take care of it from now on.
It wasn't until she had caught him lying that she had really started worrying though.
They weren't in a habit of lying to each other. Haymitch still drank, even if he made efforts and tried to keep a lid on his alcoholism – she knew that and she accepted it. He had no reason to lie to her about it or to be ashamed and it was the only thing he could have wanted to hide from her. Everything else… They knew each other so well…
Which was why she had picked up on it easily. He had never been good at hiding things from her, not even during the Quell when… She chased those thoughts from her mind. The point was: when he had pretended to have stayed late at the bakery for the third time while avoiding her eyes only to then add to it the next day by claiming to have taken a walk in the woods with Katniss, alarms had started ringing in her head. Peeta wasn't skilled when it came to lying to her and while he hadn't denied Haymitch's story, he hadn't exactly confirmed it either. She hadn't even bothered approaching Katniss.
There was no point confronting the girl. Not after Effie had accidentally walked in on a fight between her and Haymitch where the girl had been shouting at the top of her lungs that Effie was going to figure everything out and that he was an idiot.
He had refused to explain what the argument had been about and had stormed out, grumbling about how life would be easier if everyone minded their fucking business.
Katniss, not unexpectedly, hadn't wanted to tell her either, still unwilling to betray Haymitch after all this time.
She had been beyond suspicious and had gone straight into paranoid mode by then but the final straw had happened two days earlier when she had spotted Haymitch through the window of the flower shop on her way to the bakery. He had been picking flowers, nodding at what the shop girl was saying. She could have counted on one hand the numbers of times he had bought her flowers in all the time they had been together. She had gone home, unsettled but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that maybe he had been trying to make it up for his weird behavior, that maybe she would finally get an explanation… He had come back empty handed and had become angry when she had started probing at his whereabouts.
Effie wasn't stupid.
She had never been stupid.
Before him… If he had been anyone else, if it had been any other romantic relationship… She would have been out the door by now, she would have left or cheated back or gotten her revenge or…
But it was Haymitch and he had never given her reason to doubt before and that was why she was lurking at the corner of the small street, under the pouring rain, chain smoking cigarettes and waiting for Haymitch to come out of Twelve's pitiful looking jewelry's shop. She was too far to see what he was buying through the window, she had been careful to follow him from afar
Haymitch never bought jewelry. Never.
The only piece of jewelry he had ever given her was an old ring that had belonged to his mother and of which she took religious care, knowing how important it was to him.
Brand new jewelry? Never.
She took a last drag of her cigarette before tossing it on the ground and crushing it under her heeled boot, wondering if it was worth playing detective a while longer of if she should just give up and go home. The flowers and the jewelry shop explained why he didn't want her to see the bills anymore, as for the children… She couldn't believe he was using them as alibis but if he was, then… Well, then everyone knew and stalking her long-term partner apparently wasn't the most humiliating thing that had happened to her that week. That Peeta and Katniss would cover for him, that they would hide something like this from her… It hurt almost as badly as the fact Haymitch was cheating on her.
And with who?
That was the real question, wasn't it? His eyes had never strayed to another woman in her presence, not too seriously anyway – he was still a man and she didn't expect him to become blind, she certainly still noticed attractive people – she had no clue who it might be. The redhead who served tables at Sae's maybe? She was always flirting with him, even when Effie was there, and Haymitch sometimes played along to rile her up…
Haymitch pocketed something as he exited the shop, immediately opening the umbrella to protect himself from the rain. Effie didn't have one and she was drenched to the bones. Not that she cared. Not really.
She followed him at a respectable distance, thanking the heavy rain and the people hurrying past them with their umbrellas for his lack of attention, wondering if he was going to lead her straight to his mistress.
She didn't know if she was disappointed or relieved when she realized he had heading back to the Village.
She let him walk ahead, lighting another cigarette when she reached the slope that led up to the metal gates and making that one last. He hated it when she smoked which was why she didn't do it often and almost always in secret. It was a reflex to drop the cigarette well before she was in sight of the house and to suck on one of the mints she always kept in her purse.
She walked slowly, as slowly as she dared without attracting too much attention – people tended to dash when they were caught in a downpour without an umbrella, not drag their feet. The whole District must have been talking about it by now, it was a small town and everybody knew everybody else's business. She didn't want to add to the gossiping. She didn't want to cause a scene. She didn't want…
But that was a lie, wasn't it?
She wanted to cause a scene. She wanted to scream as loud as she could because she had literally been to hell, she had been cut to pieces by butchers, and it hadn't hurt as badly as this did. She tried to rationalize it. Men grew bored, men cheated… Nothing new under the sun. It didn't mean he had stopped loving her, just that he had found someone else he wanted to have sex with, someone who was probably younger and firmer and lacking ugly scars… It didn't mean he was going to leave her. It didn't mean…
It hurt.
It hurt so badly.
Familiar insecurities were rising their hideous heads, her mother's voice so clear in her mind as she told her in a haughty voice that she could never trust the feeble nature of men, that she needed to always be more if she wanted to be someone… Effie had spent more than half her life trying to be fabulous but since she had come to live in Twelve… She had slowly dropped the masks and the escort persona, she had stopped playing the dumb debutante, she had stopped pretending to be the person people would adore instead of who she really was… Haymitch loved Effie and so the fabulous Effie Trinket had retired… And maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe she had fallen in the trap she had always vowed to never fall in.
Her pride was wounded and she focused on that because as long as she was vexed she could ignore the fact that her heart was slowly breaking inside her chest.
Haymitch was having an affair.
No, she thought, as she leaned against the back door, not even minding the geese roaming around the backyard in her agitation, an affair would be bad enough but this was worse than that. Haymitch was buying flowers and jewelry. Haymitch was making efforts to seduce a woman when he had never bothered courting her.
Maybe because she had let him have her against a wall and in any number of positions when she had still been claiming loud and clear that she loathed him.
Maybe it was because she lacked self-respect.
Maybe…
Her hand was shaking when she entered the kitchen and slowly closed the door behind her. She unbuttoned her coat and carefully laid it on the back of a chair.
"Finally!" Haymitch scoffed from the corridor. "Where the fuck were you? You didn't say you were… You're soaked!"
She stared at her hands resting on her white coat, studying the pink nail polish and its golden specks. Did his new lover use nail polish? Probably not. District women were still very… natural.
"Effie." he frowned. Suddenly, he was standing next to her. One of his hands was at the small of her back and the other supported her elbow. "Sweetheart, you're okay? You're having a flashback?"
There was real worry in his voice.
"Can we come back from this?" she asked herself out loud. Should they? Was he only staying with her because of that? Because she was still having flashbacks five years later? Because she was broken and he felt responsible?
"Come back from what? Tell me where you are, Princess." he demanded gently, tracing soothing circles with his thumb on her back.
She blinked. "I am in Twelve. I am not… I am fine, Haymitch."
She escaped his hands and fled the kitchen, pausing in the corridor only long enough to take off her boots, aware that Haymitch was following her.
"What's wrong?" he asked, an odd sort of tension in his voice.
She walked up the stairs, her shaking fingers working on the buttons of her blouse. Her hair was damp and stuck to her nape, drops of water were rolling down her back, plastering the fabric to her skin… She wanted to put something comfortable on but perhaps she should choose something sexy instead. Perhaps she should…
She discarded the blouse in the hamper and kicked off the skirt and the tights. She could feel Haymitch's eyes on her but he remained silent, even when she went to the bathroom to fetch a towel. She was careful not to glance at him in the mirror over the sink. Even when he came to stand right behind her and took the towel from her hands. Even when he carefully rubbed her hair dry.
"I was thinking…" she started, planning to tell him she was going to go to the Capitol for a little while only to let her sentence trail off. Her voice was too high-pitched and she stopped because it sounded fake and he would know.
"Did it hurt?" he teased.
It was fond and familiar and she licked her lips, a lump in her throat. She didn't think she could do this. Play pretend. Not with him. Not with them.
The towel was tossed over the edge of the bathtub and he brushed her hair over her shoulder. He pressed his lips against her nape and she closed her eyes. His stubble scratched her skin when his mouth roamed on her neck, a familiar hitch that made her tilt her head to allow him complete access.
She didn't protest when he unclasped her bra.
She didn't protest when he turned her around to kiss her deep.
"You're alright?" he asked when she was a second too slow to respond.
It was her cue to tell him she knew everything, that she wouldn't be made the District's joke, that she wouldn't bear neither the humiliation nor the pain, that she was leaving, that he would have to beg for her to forgive him…
But he brushed his fingers against her cheek, his grey eyes so tender and concerned…
She fisted his shirt in her hand and kissed him hard, doing a quick job of getting rid of his clothes. He had never liked being robbed of control and so he fought her for it. She refused to yield.
It was rough like they hardly ever were anymore, brutal almost. She bit him hard enough to make him groan several times, leaving the prints of her teeth in his flesh… She wasn't looking for marks another woman might have left, she wasn't. And yet she felt better not to find any. She scratched and bit and only declared herself satisfied once his back was clawed and his body was full of hickeys.
She was particularly proud of the one she left on his right butt-cheek.
"Ain't a chew toy." he grumbled afterwards, as they lounged in bed.
She was draped over his body, her cheek on his chest, staring at the wall. "Of course not, darling."
She made an effort to put some cheer in her voice, a cheer tamed enough to sound genuine. She wasn't sure he was fooled, not given the way he combed her wet hair with his fingers. The way he was touching her was between hesitant and comforting.
"What was that about earlier?" he asked.
"Nothing." she dismissed.
"You said you've been thinking about something." he insisted.
"Oh, I was thinking we should go to Four soon. Visit Annie and little Finn…" she lied. The idea had its merits though and she grew bolder. "Or we might even go somewhere else, just the two of us. Somewhere new. I heard about ski resorts in Seven… That might be fun."
"You want to go on a trip?" he clarified.
"I want to be with you." she replied. She wondered if he could hear the yearning in her voice. She wondered if it even mattered. "I just… I want to be with you."
"I'm going somewhere I don't know about?" he snorted, gently tugging on a blond strand.
"Never mind." she whispered. "I am just being silly. As usual."
"Didn't say that." he sighed. "You're being weird, though. Which usually means you're upset about something I did."
"Did you do something that might upset me?" she challenged.
He chuckled and coiled his hand around her nape, give it a possessive squeeze. "See, that's a trap. There's no good answer."
He was probably right on that account.
After that conversation, she tried to pretend she wasn't aware of his affair. Haymitch seemed to be more careful but it was also possible he had figured out she knew.
She was sad and determined not to show it so, of course, she was a bit on the over-cheerful side of things.
Every time she walked in on a conversation between him and the children that ended abruptly, every time she caught him lying, every time she suspected something was going on behind her back… She went on a shopping spree. She didn't know how else to deal with this but do what the old Effie would have done. She bought shoes and dresses and fabrics by the dozen… She even bought herself a nice pair of pearl earrings that had Haymitch choking when she told him their price…
It didn't bring her much comfort, certainly not the way it used to…
The situation lasted for two more weeks.
It was almost a relief when Haymitch awkwardly shuffled on his feet one evening and told her he wanted to talk. She simply nodded. When he suggested they took a stroll, she didn't argue, simply slipping her arms in the jacket he held out for her.
They didn't talk at all.
She followed him through the streets of the Village and down toward the town, regretting the fact that the shops would be closed because she would certainly need a derivative once they actually got around to his breaking up with her and she was short of cigarettes.
"So…" He cleared his throat as they walked down the road that led to the square. "No point pretending. I know you've figured everything out."
She hadn't expected him to be so blunt about it. Her mouth was dry and she folded her arms in front of her chest. "I am not an idiot, Haymitch."
He rolled his eyes. "Well, I tried to keep it from you. Thought it was the nice thing to do."
"How kind of you." she hissed, as the square came into sight. There were a lot of people out there that night, but she had no clue what the fuss could be about. Twelve was usually very calm after dark. "Should I thank you, perhaps?"
He frowned, clearly taken aback, and then scoffed. "Wouldn't kill you. It cost me an arm and a leg."
Her mind flashed back to the flowers and the jewelry shop and she saw red.
"Am I supposed to care that your harlot has expensive tastes?" she snapped as they crossed the street toward the square.
There was a small stage in the corner and tables all around… It was odd because it was far too soon for the Harvest festival and it wasn't the right time for the rebellion anniversary – and she would have known if a public dance was supposed to take place – but she didn't even really notice because she was too busy glaring at Haymitch who had stopped dead in his tracks.
"What?" he asked in a puzzled tone.
"Oh, I do apologize." she growled, keeping her voice low because she did not want anyone to hear, she did not want to become the main attraction of whatever was happening on the square. "Did I insult your mistress? You will excuse me if I do not care very much about sparing her feelings. Or yours for that matter. Are you going to make it clear before we cross the whole District? I won't make this easier for you, Haymitch, I warn you. I want to hear it. I want to hear it all. I want to know who she is. I want to know when it started. I want to know why you think you will be happier with her than you are with me. And I want to hear you say it is over because I won't say it. If you want us to break up, you will have to be the one to break us up because I…"
"She's here!" someone shouted behind her, on the square.
And then music started playing and a lot of people launched into an off key rendition of the birthday song.
Her eyes filled with tears long before they reached the part of the song with her name.
Her back was to the square, her gaze was riveted to Haymitch's who, for once, looked at a complete loss for words. He just stood there and gaped at her, absolutely stunned.
She had been so busy obsessing about their relationship that she had forgotten that today was her birthday.
Eventually, people stopped singing, clearly realizing something was wrong.
For one thing, she still had to turn around and be her usual happy self.
Haymitch's eyes darted behind her and he scowled.
"We'll be back." he shouted, grabbing her arm to drag her away. She tried to resist but his grip was strong and she gave up after a few seconds. When he finally stopped and turned back to her, he looked thunderous. "You thought I was having a fucking affair?" he shouted, far too loud given the short distance they had put between them and the square.
She was certain she heard Johanna's characteristic snickers over the awkward whispers.
"Aren't you?" she challenged uncertainly, jutting her chin in the air.
It didn't prove anything after all.
He had organized her a surprise birthday party… So what? It didn't explain everything.
"You're not seriously asking me that, sweetheart." he scoffed.
"You lied about being with the children." she countered.
"Yeah, 'cause I was making plans at the Justice Building to make sure I could get the square." he spat. "And then I was trying to find a fucking band that could play more than two songs."
She faltered. "You bought flowers."
"For the fucking tables. 'Cause you hate it when there aren't flowers on tables at parties." he snapped. "Wouldn't let you snoop around the study because of the bills either, 'cause I didn't want you to figure out what I was up to. Thought you had anyway. Thought that was what all the shopping was about… Making sure you had the perfect outfit or whatever it is you do when you have a huge party in your honor…"
She licked her lips, searching his eyes. "You went to the jewelry shop. I followed you. I…"
He pulled a small box wrapped in glittery paper from his pocket and tossed it at her. She fumbled with it but eventually caught it.
"Happy fucking birthday." he sneered.
She burst into tears.
The whole thing was humiliating on more than one account and she strode away from the square, not really surprised when she felt him run after her. He stopped her mad dash by embracing her. She immediately melted against his chest, feeling guilty, relieved and stupid all at once.
"I thought… I…" she stuttered. "You have no idea… I thought you were going to leave me…"
"Yeah, sure, 'cause it makes more sense than me trying to do something nice for your birthday." he grumbled, obviously not really happy with her but also unhappy to see her so upset. He held her tight, resting his head against hers. "I guess it's good to know you can still be ridiculous, sweetheart…"
"You never do anything for my birthday." she argued between sobs. "How was I supposed to know…"
"You're turning forty." he shrugged awkwardly. "Thought you might like a party."
Turning forty might very well be why she had unconsciously forgotten her own birthday. Forty was a threshold. One she wasn't sure she was ready for.
"I ruined it." she lamented, making an effort to collect herself. She was still holding her gift so she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "I am so sorry. You went to all this trouble and I… I ruined everything."
"I'm too good at organizing surprise parties." he snorted. "That will show the girl… She kept saying I was gonna blow it and you wouldn't forgive me…" She chuckled and let him cup her cheek, obediently looking up when he nudged her chin with his thumb. "It's the last time I do something nice for you."
He was smirking so she supposed he was joking.
"I think that might be a good thing. I cannot take the stress of thinking you are having another affair." she teased.
He rolled his eyes at her, his expression one of fondness. "I don't cheat."
"I know." she whispered, briefly closing her eyes. "That was why it hurt so much."
"Should have said something." he rebuked.
She shook her head. "I was too scared you were going to leave me. I could not bear the thought."
"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he snorted, leaning in to steal a kiss that soon turned into another. "You can't get rid of me."
Truth be told, she would have liked nothing more than stay there and kiss him but she was a little too aware of the people she had left unacknowledged.
"We are being rude." she murmured between two kisses.
"Who cares?" he mumbled.
"I do." she grinned, gently pushing him away. "Besides, I hear there is a party in my honor."
"Yeah, you would remember that part." he mocked, snatching the wrapped jewelry box from her hand to place it back in his pocket. She pouted but he wasn't so easily moved. "Later."
There was quite a lot of people on the square. The children were at the front of the crowd, looking a little anxious. They relaxed once they saw her smiling and encouraged everyone to start singing again. This time she happily went along with it and thanked everyone for coming.
There were a few people from Twelve, a lot of their neighbors, Annie and Jo had made the trip from Four, Plutarch had come from the city… The band wasn't excellent but it was nice enough, the flower arrangements were classy, the food was delicious and the cake was fantastic.
She even managed to drag Haymitch to the dance floor three or four times.
As far as she was concerned, it was the best birthday party ever.
She could have lived without the children making noises of disgust every time she kissed Haymitch but she preferred to ignore their easily offended sensibilities. It wasn't often that they allowed themselves public displays of affection, certainly nothing so open as kissing in front of people. Haymitch had drunk enough flutes of champagne to be buzzed and she was tipsy enough that she didn't really care if she made others uncomfortable. It was her party and, after all the heartache, she intended to enjoy it.
"Everyone else gave me their gifts, you know." she hummed as the night was drawing to a close.
Most people had left and the band was showing signs of tiredness but Effie had forced Haymitch to sway with her for a few minutes longer. She used to love dancing until dawn. To some extent, she still did.
It couldn't be more than two or three a.m. She wasn't that tired yet. They would make love when they went home, she decided. Against the door for old time's sakes. And then another time in bed. After all, they should celebrate the fact Haymitch wasn't having an affair properly.
"So?" he smirked.
"You did not." she pointed out.
"I threw you a fucking party." he retorted.
"Language." she chided.
"I threw you a bloody party." he reformulated.
She rolled her eyes, which only made him smirk harder.
"I want my diamonds." she pouted.
"Who said anything about diamonds?" he snorted, bowing a little to nuzzle her neck.
"I hope for your sake it's diamonds." she purred, tangling her fingers in his hair. "Diamonds will get me on my knees."
He nipped at the soft skin under her ear but it was brief. "Good thing I know your tastes, then, yeah? Keep the dirty talk for home."
"There are plenty of dark alleys between here and home." She flashed him a sassy grin that had him swallowing hard.
"Don't tempt me, Princess." he chuckled.
"Is it a ring?" she asked, alcohol making her daring.
The size of the box was right for a ring but it didn't mean it was a ring. It might be earrings. It might be a pin.
He stared at her for a moment, his face unreadable, and then fished the box from his pocket. They stopped dancing when he handed it to her and the band took that as their cue to start packing. She was startled to realize they were the only guests left.
She carefully unwrapped the blue velvet box, shooting him a quick glance before pushing the lid open.
It was a ring.
And it was exquisite.
The band was rose gold and the square pink gem was surrounded by dozens of tiny diamonds. It was the perfect size, big enough to be noticed but not enough that it would be a real encumbrance given that she intended to wear it every day.
He did know her tastes.
It wasn't just the ring… The whole party was proof of that. And the fact that he had organized at all in the first place… That was the thing with Haymitch… He could never be accused of being a romantic but sometimes he would do something like this out of the blue, totally unexpectedly, and it would make it all the more so special and…
"I love you." she whispered.
The words were rare between them.
She had said them before but she knew they made him uncomfortable, that if he had grown past his terror of feelings, the words brought back bad memories… They were the last thing he had offered his family and the last thing he had heard from them. He hadn't managed to utter them yet even if he had made his feelings plain quite a few number of times.
The words were unnecessary anyway.
Not when he went and did things like that.
"Good." he snorted. "'Cause I'm not getting down on one knee. And I think I deserve points for not spilling out the beans when you were accusing me of fucking who knows who behind your back, so keep that in mind next time you scream at me for making a mess in the house."
"Sorry?" she frowned, looking at him with confusion. "What do you mean?"
She had a good idea what he meant but… A ring didn't have tomean…
He looked ill-at-ease but met her gaze with a casual shrug. "I mean… You're forty, I ain't getting any younger… I'm probably gonna have to let my mistress go as it is…"
The last part was added in a teasing voice and she huffed. "You will never let me hear the end of it, will you?"
"Not likely." he confirmed, his grey eyes twinkling with mirth. His smirk faded a little and he cleared his throat. "Anyway. The whole thing doesn't matter much to me 'cause… I don't need a ring on my finger to know what I feel or who I want to grow old with but… If it's something you want… Maybe we can toast some bread in the fireplace when we get home."
Her eyes filled with tears she hastily blinked away, knowing he wouldn't like it.
"You do not need a ring because I already gave you one." she argued, fighting to keep her voice poised. She hooked her fingers around the battered golden bangle he still wore around his left wrist. "Please, do notice how I chose a big one so you would not forget."
"How thoughtful of you, sweetheart." he deadpanned, scowling at the bangle he had never learned to like.
And yet he still wore it.
"Let's go home, Haymitch." She grinned hard when she linked her arm with his. "We have some bread to toast."