Prompt (only if you're still taking them ofc): Effie embarrasses herself pre-Mockingjay and Haymitch tries to calm her down (maybe with Cinna there too just bc i love Cinna) :)

One For The Gag-Reel

"I cannot wait for this dreadful Tour to be over!" Effie snapped, her cheeks still burning red. She limped to the closest armchair and sat down with relief, immediately folding her right leg over her left so she could get a good look at her ankle.

"But we're having so much fun…" Haymitch drawled out. Without any sympathy. As usual. He went straight to the liquor cart and she supposed she should have been grateful he hadn't headed directly to the train's bar car.

She pursed her lips and glared at his back.

"It's not that bad." Katniss offered, dropping on the couch.

Humiliating.

It was humiliating.

"Not that bad?" she hissed. "You are aware this will probably go into the gag reel, aren't you? Everyone will watch me fall down those stairs on a loop and laugh."

"It was funny." Haymitch snorted, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the back of the couch. "That little screech you made? Comedy gold."

"The important thing is that you didn't really get hurt." Peeta commented, not unkindly, as he sat on Katniss' other side.

"It truly wasn't that bad, darling." Portia swore. "I doubt the cameras had a good angle…"

"You are sweet but the cameras were aimed straight at the flight of stairs I missed." she retorted. She undid the buckle of the shoe and rotated her ankle a few times. There was an unmistakable pinch. "Damn shoes!"

"Told you they would kill you." Haymitch taunted from the cart where he was doing who knew what. How long did it take to pour oneself a drink? And really was it too much to expect for him to do the polite thing and offer everyone one?

"I am so sorry, Effie." Cinna winced. "I designed those heels.."

"Oh, it is fine…" she sighed, a little subdued by that apology. "It was the stairs… The stairs were faulty."

"She should have told Six's mayor." Katniss muttered to Peeta under her breath. "I'm sure he would have liked to know."

Effie pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at the children.

"Here's some ice." Haymitch declared before she could tell the girl off for being insensitive to her pain. "Quit bitching now."

She was genuinely surprised when he placed ice cubes wrapped in a cloth around her ankle. He hadn't been fixing himself a glass then, after all. It made her feel guilty and she gave him an apologetic look that he dismissed with a roll of his eyes.

She was not really angry anyway.

Simply…

Well. Humiliated. She couldn't even tell how it had happened. One minute she was walking up the stairs next to Haymitch, the next she was falling all the way back down. She remembered having made a desperate grab for him, she remembered he had tried to catch her… Then she was sliding down the stairs on her side. Everyone rushed to her naturally. The Mayor, the kids, Cinna and Portia… Even Haymitch had been next to her in a flash, asking if she was alright before defusing the tension with a joke…

She had laughed along and she had smiled for the cameras but she hadn't been able to relax all dinner, fixated on the fact that the whole country had seen that fall and that it would probably play on repeat for days. The simple thought was enough to make her flush again.

The children didn't linger long in the living-room and Portia, after making sure she was alright, followed them down the corridor, declaring she wanted to get as much sleep as possible before they reached Five. Effie could understand that. They were all tired and stressed out. She wouldn't have fallen down the stairs if she hadn't been tired and stressed out.

The ice made her skin numb and she moved the makeshift pack around a little, wincing when she caught sight of her ankle.

"Oh." Cinna made a face, crouching next to her armchair and lifting the ice pack to get a closer look. "That doesn't look good…"

"What?" Haymitch asked from the other side of the room where, this time, he was fixing himself a drink.

"It's swollen." the stylist said. "I think you might need a doctor…"

"It is simply a sprain. Nothing I cannot handle." she sighed.

Haymitch took a sip of his drink on his way to her armchair and handed it to her for safekeeping. He carefully coiled one hand around her ankle and placed his other one of her foot. He slowly made her foot turn one way and then the other…

She had half a mind to ask him if he had gotten a medical degree while she wasn't looking…

"Shit, sweetheart, it does look bad." he frowned, a bit sheepish. Probably because he had been making fun of her nonstop since it had happened.

"I will keep it wrapped until we have to go on camera tomorrow." she sighed, glancing at Cinna with a pout. "I was supposed to wear the red heels in Five but I think they might be too high now. Do you think we might switch for the black ones? They are less impressive but they are also more comfortable."

"You're joking." Haymitch scoffed, gently rubbing his thumb on the swollen part of her ankle. "You shouldn't put weight on that foot. Never mind wearing those death traps."

"Oh, don't you worry. I went down the catwalk with more serious injuries than this." she dismissed. "Sprains are a model's lot."

"I will go see what we can do for your outfit." Cinna promised. "We'll make you look so fabulous nobody will remember what happened tonight."

"I doubt that but I thank you." she smiled, squeezing his hand when he placed it on her shoulder. "Goodnight, dear."

Once the sliding door had automatically closed behind the stylist, Effie slouched a little in the armchair, losing her regal bearing and wincing at the pain in her side. She only hesitated a short moment before finishing Haymitch's whiskey. The taste was awful but she hoped the alcohol would help her relax.

He tossed her an annoyed look when he saw what she had done but didn't comment, still busy inspecting her ankle as if he could heal it just with his willpower.

"I hate to trouble you but would you terribly mind helping me to my room?" she asked.

"You hate to trouble me?" he snorted, openly mocking. "Since when?"

She pouted. "I was simply being polite."

"See, you say you're being polite but that's just a covert way to be bossy." he accused, outstretching a hand to help her up. "Come on, I'll carry you. Should have said it was that bad. Wouldn't have let you walk all the way from the Justice Building to the train."

"I told you I was in pain." she argued.

"No. You told me it was a disaster 'cause everyone'd be laughing at you." he objected, rolling his eyes. "You said you were fine."

"Well, I was not about to admit being hurt through my own clumsiness on national TV." she retorted, wrapping her arms around his neck. She held her breath when he picked her up, pain flaring on her right side but she clenched her jaw and pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

"What now?" he grumbled. "You're okay?"

"Bruised." she breathed out slowly.

He didn't answer but his expression grew a little darker and he hurried down the corridors and to her bedroom. He was careful when he placed her down on the bed and she was grateful he didn't toss her like he sometimes did when he fancied himself a funny man.

"Where's the first aid kit?" he asked, already rummaging in the cupboard of her en-suited bathroom. "Never mind. Found it."

There were more sounds of things being moved around. She supposed he was looking for the right salve.

She did a quick job of getting rid of her remaining shoe and of the dress. Then she stood up and hopped to the full-length mirror screwed on the wardrobe door. And she made a face.

There were angry looking bruises on her right side from her ribs to her mid-thigh.

"You shouldn't be up…" Haymitch started scolding as he came back in the bedroom only to do a double take. "Holy shit."

Before she really understood what was going on, he had her sitting down on the bed and he was running his palm all over the bruised area, sometimes pressing a little too hard for comfort. There was a frantic, almost panicked look in his eyes and it took her a few minutes to figure out what was wrong.

"I am fine, Haymitch." she promised.

"You're lucky you didn't crack your ribs." he muttered. "Shit. You should have said it was that bad."

"I honestly did not know." she sighed. "And the fact you are distressed do not excuse your language."

"Ain't distressed. I don't care if you go and break your neck." he grumbled, picking up the small jar he had found in the bathroom.

She tried to take it from him but he batted her hand away. It seemed he was determined to take care of her injuries himself so she let him, relaxing because as strong as his hands were – and there were strong – they could be extremely tender when he wanted them to.

He was only satisfied when her side was entirely coated with cream. He rubbed a generous amount on her ankle too and watched, apparently fascinated, when she expertly wrapped it tight.

He lifted his eyebrows. "How often have you done that?"

"I told you. Sprains… It is a common thing." she shrugged. "I have been wearing heels since I was ten. It is bound to happen."

He stared at her and then shook his head, standing up from the bed to get rid of his own clothes. "But you still wear them. You're crazy."

She huffed but didn't rise to that bait. She watched him discard his waistcoat on the chair in the corner before kicking his shoes against the wall…

"I do not remember inviting you to stay tonight." she scorned, a little vexed by his name-calling.

"Thought it was an open invitation thing…" he smirked, glancing at her over his shoulder before ripping the tie off his neck and tossing it on top of the waistcoat. The shirt and the pants didn't get that far, they remained on a heap on the floor, prompting her to press her lips in a hard disapproving line. Not that he cared.

"Perhaps you thought wrong." she hummed, unclasping her bra and slipping her panties off. She had to use the bathroom anyway so she pointedly hopped to the clothes hamper to drop her dirty laundry.

He was usually more receptive to her naked self – even if she was hopping around – but his grey eyes remained on the bruises marring her pale skin. And they were hard.

She rethought her original plan of going into the bathroom and limped closer to him, locking her arms around his neck. His hands hovered uncertainly next to her hips before settling at the small of her back. She wasn't sure she liked the way he was touching her, as if she was a breakable fragile thing. He never touched her like that.

"You know I mark easily." she reminded him. "It looks more impressive than it is. It does not even hurt that much."

"Yeah." he granted, brushing his knuckles along the line of her spine. "Just don't like seeing you hurt."

She smiled and raised on tip toes – balanced on her only good foot – to kiss him.

She didn't make the mistake of telling him she thought he was being sweet but she hoped she made herself clear anyway.