Prompt: living together Hayffie get into a fight and haymitch goes and sleeps on the couch upset and that makes effie feel bad to she says shes sorry and goes to sleep on the couch with him ( or tries to convince him to come back to bed )

Of Couches, Victories and Domesticity

What made this whole debacle worse, Haymitch quickly decided as he angrily turned around on the couch and tugged the blanket up, was that Effie was right.

They did need a new couch.

And it clearly wasn't worth the five hours fight they had had about it.

He wasn't even sure why he had gotten so angry in the first place. Because the couch was the latest piece of furniture she wanted to replace? They had already repainted the kitchen, bought a new fridge – one that didn't have rot in it, apparently – she had changed every curtain on every window in the house, the TV was a brand new model, the broken tiles in the bathroom had been replaced, he barely recognized his bedroom since she had moved there from the guest room and then there were the new sheets with a flower pattern – he really wasn't sold on the sheets with a flower pattern. So when she had announced she was going to order a new couch…

The couch had been there since before he had moved in. He had spent entire nights on that couch. He had practically lived on that couch. And she just wanted to toss it to the curb because… What? It was a little lumpy?

Thing was, he winced as he rolled over again to try and find a position he could sleep in and still be able to move the next day, it was lumpy. And old. And uncomfortable.

He was really regretting shouting that he was going to sleep on it, all the more so when there was a perfectly good guestroom upstairs. But it wouldn't have driven his point home as efficiently as sleeping on the couch would have. Except sleeping on the couch was turning out to be the worst idea he had ever had – and that was on top of the whole argument being ridiculously domestic.

He hit the pillow twice in hope it would decrease the pain his back but no such luck.

He was almost relieved when he heard the familiar creaking of the stairs.

And yet he stubbornly refused to give her the satisfaction of addressing her first, letting her lean against the living-room doorframe. It wasn't just about buying a new couch, it was about drawing a line in the sand. He might have given up and admitted long ago that they were, in fact, a couple – and he might even enjoy that too – but it didn't mean he was ready to admit she was the one wearing the pants in this relationship – although he was fairly sure they were at a point in their lives where she actually was.

"You do know this whole argument is stupid, right?" she asked eventually, after a few minutes of staring at him in silence.

The curtains were open and the light coming from the streetlamp a few feet from the house was enough for him to see clearly. She was wearing a red lacy nightgown and that really wasn't playing fair because red and lacy usually got the trick done when he was concerned.

"I'm sleeping." he grumbled.

"No, you are not." she sighed. "You are lying on an old couch, trying to find a comfortable position that you won't find and you will complain to me all day tomorrow about how your back hurts and how it is my fault for kicking you out of bed."

"Suits you right for kicking me out of bed, then." he snorted.

"You kicked yourself out of bed." she argued.

"'Cause you wouldn't stop harassing me with the fucking couch." he pointed out.

"Come back to bed, Haymitch." she demanded.

"No." he snapped.

She sighed again, letting him know he was being insufferable probably, and then moved more frankly in his line of sight. He wasn't sure what she was doing until she climbed on top of him and curled up on his chest.

Needless to say, the couch was even less comfortable that way.

"The fuck you're doing?" he muttered.

"I dislike sleeping without you." she shrugged. "So if you won't come to bed, I will have to sleep here with you."

"So your new plan is to crush me to death so you can buy a new couch with the inheritance." he snorted.

"I cannot believe you figured my evil plan out!" she mocked and then chuckled. "We won't buy a new couch if you do not want a new couch."

"Good." he triumphed, shifting so he could wrap his arms around her, satisfied to have won the argument. Even if he was really uncomfortable right then. "For the sake of the argument… That new couch… It would have been bigger?"

"Yes." she hummed. "Cuddling like this wouldn't be so difficult, if it is your question."

"Not a great cuddler anyway." he lied, burying his fingers in her blond hair.

"To be sure." she humored him. "Do you know what else we could have done on the new couch we are not getting?"

"Sleeping without me needing to call an ambulance in the morning 'cause I can't fucking move?" he joked.

"Another valid point." she agreed. "Although I was more thinking along the line of great sex. We could have had amazing sex."

"We have amazing sex on this one." he mumbled defensively.

"We end up on the floor one time out of three." she countered. "And when was the last time we even tried to have sex on the couch? Even the kitchen table is more comfortable."

He mulled that over and then made a face. "Point."

"Thank you." she acknowledged. "Now… Think about it… A bigger couch, more room… So many possibilities…"

"A shame we're not getting one." he shrugged.

"Isn't it just?" she replied. "Can we go to bed now? My leg is getting numb."

If her leg was getting numb, his back was starting to seriously protest.

"We're both on the same page, here, yeah? I won." he insisted.

"Of course, darling." she hummed, extracting herself from him and the lumpy cushions.

"Good." he smirked, outstretching a hand so she could haul him up to his feet. "As long as we're clear on that… You can have a new couch if you want one so much."

She chuckled and planted a kiss on his lips before snatching his pillow and sauntering out of the room. "You spoil me."

"I expect sex as a thank you." he informed her.

"I wouldn't have dreamed for it to be otherwise." she tossed at him over her shoulder as they climbed up the stairs, her grin that little bit too sassy.

He chose not to address it.

He had won, that was the important thing there.