Prompt: I was reading ch579 and I have a prompt! Haymitch is concerned about Peeta and Katniss so he does asks Effie for condoms and then she's all mad because why on Earth would he wants condoms for? (after MJ maybe?). She can go all the way to twelve to give the condoms to him too if you want to

Maybe One Day Hypothetically

Haymitch turned the page of his book, trying to ignore the unusual agitation outside his house. The wedding dresses photoshoot – or whatever the Capitol was calling it – was in full swing over at Katniss' and there were a lot of staff crew members moving portable spotlights and what-nots, calling out to each other, laughing the mocking giggles Capitols laughed or simply exploring the Village. He could hear them streets away.

He had made a conscious choice not to show up for it, unwilling to be roped into helping – and he would be roped into helping or, worse, into posing with the bride to be or something because that was how showbiz worked. Cinna would find him when he was ready if there was anything new to discuss.

He kept on reading, regularly bringing the cup of spiked herbal tea to his lips, and listening to the softer less aggravating sounds of things being moved around in the house.

He might not have been sure about hiring Hazelle, at first, but he was very sold now. Living in a clean house, having clean laundry every day and not having to navigate around the health hazards that had been his kitchen and his bathrooms was a novelty he had gotten used to very fast.

It was a bit awkward still, because they used to be friends and now she was his housekeeper – hell, no, it was plain awkward because they used to be friends and he had cut her off overnight like he had cut everybody else off – but they were slowly finding their footing back. He had always liked Hazelle, she was steadfast, no-nonsense but she had a good sense of humor.

"I'm done for today." she declared, late morning, walking in the living-room already wrapping her new red scarf around her neck. He had bought her the scarf as a gift – there had been a lot of arguing on her part before she had accepted it but, as Haymitch had pointed out, she deserved a bonus for having unclogged his toilets. Saying he hadn't been embarrassed by the state of the bathrooms was a stretch. She kept on talking, snatching the empty mug he had placed on the floor next to his armchair to relocate it on the coffee table. "This goes in the sink when you're done." she ordered. He gave her a mock salute. "I've left you some soup from Sae's on the stove for lunch. Don't get excited, it's rats."

"My favorite." he deadpanned, earning himself a quick amused smile.

It was a short one though. With the Hob destroyed Sae was barely keeping her head above water. She kept on cooking what she could find at her own shack and people kept on trading her for a bowl of soup but times were hard.

"The laundry machine is almost done." she continued. "It'd be great if you could remember to put it in the dryer. And maybe put it away but I'm not holding my breath on that. Don't leave it in the laundry machine, that will be enough to make me happy."

"You're cheap." he accused.

"There's also some warm bread on the counter and cheese buns in the fridge." she added. "And I got you your liquor. It's in the cupboard."

He had been running very low on his stock and trafficking liquor with the new Peacekeepers around watching everyone was dangerous. He hated asking Hazelle to smuggle it in but his moves were more likely than not scrutinized.

He was also more likely to eat the bread and the buns – that probably came from Peeta – than the soup he had only asked her to buy so Sae would have some cash. Unlike others, he didn't trade at the Hob, he paid.

"Marry me." he demanded.

Hazelle rolled her eyes, a retort already on her lips – probably something about how he was too much work or how he was too late or something along those lines – but a loud gasp interrupted the familiar banter.

He turned his head, a sinking feeling in his stomach, to find Effie Trinket on the living-room threshold, flamboyant in her green and gold sequins dress, a heavy woolen hooded cloak thingy fastened with a gold brooch on her shoulders, carrying a rectangular glittery purse… He wasn't sure how he had missed her approach because she was, as usual, blinding and those green heeled boots of hers couldn't be discreet.

"My apologies." she immediately said, her face visibly turning crimson under the powder covering her face. "I did not mean to interrupt or intrude. I did not knock because… Well… I never do. I thought… My apologies. Please, go on."

She whirled around and Haymitch sat there, his heart hammering in his chest because…

"Calm down, Princess." he called out, mocking and detached. At least that was what he aimed for. "Just joking."

Hazelle had closed off as soon as she had spotted the Capitol. "I will see you tomorrow."

"See you." Haymitch muttered, his attention on Effie who had stopped her hasty retreat and was now hesitating in the corridor.

He didn't miss the look of pure loathing Hazelle tossed her when she passed her by or the disdainful way his escort sized her up and down. Effie jutted her chin up when she was done, a small satisfied sneer on her green painted lips. Clearly, she found herself prettier.

And she wasn't wrong.

Although to be fair, Effie had been spoiled and pampered all her life when Hazelle had been forced to slave herself off to feed her children. They were around the same age, give or take a few years, but Hazelle's face was marked by hardship when Effie's was smoothed with creams, lotions and make-up.

Once the front door closed softly behind Hazelle, Effie's jaw clenched again and she gave him a long hard look. Then she turned around and started walking toward the kitchen. He had the very strong feeling she was going to use the backdoor to go back to Katniss' without having to cross path with Hazelle.

He quickly hauled himself out of the armchair.

The good thing with her heels was that he was almost always guaranteed to catch up with her if he really tried.

"Effie." he sighed, grabbing her wrist just as she was about to round the table, her sight on the door.

"I do apologize for intruding." Effie snapped. "I will remember to knock next time. Since you never showed up to the photoshoot I assumed you were expecting me to come to you and you usually never answer when I ring the doorbell or announce my presence so… I thought you would be drunk, possibly. Why waste time waiting in front of your door in the cold? Silly of me. Not to mention rude. I will not take that sort of liberties again, I promise. I hope she did not think me too forward. I would hate not to be on good terms with your wife-to-be, that would make working together very awkward."

"Effie, stop." he insisted, giving her arm a little shake. "Look around."

She glared at him first, then she took a good look around and, if possible, her glare hardened when she realized just how clean everything was.

"Well." she scowled. "Congratulation. You found yourself a girlfriend who can keep your house clean. Perhaps I should ask her to give some pointers to the Avoxes at the penthouse."

He rolled his eyes. "I pay her for it."

Effie pursed her lips and shrugged off his grip with one strong tug. "I do not need to be made aware of your personal arrangements."

"Since when?" he scoffed but she looked ready to bolt again so he lifted both hands in the air in a pacifying gesture. "She's the housekeeper, sweetheart. Just the housekeeper."

"Do you ask all the women in your employ to marry you?" she retorted, opening her glittery purse and fishing two rectangular boxes out of it. She tossed them at him and he struggled to catch them. "The condoms you wanted. I cannot help but admit it was a big hint something was going on. I am not as stupid as I look." She clicked her purse shut. "I would appreciate it if you made an appearance at the photoshoot. It will make a nice aside piece for the dresses reveal, Caesar will like it."

He grabbed her arm back before she could run off, trapping her against the table with his body this time.

"Are you done being a bitch?" he grumbled. "The condoms are for Peeta."

She shoved him but he refused to move. It had been give or take three months since the last time he had seen her and he was damned if that was how it was going to go. It would be another three months before the Reaping and he wanted… He wanted something to go on. A nice little hour locked in his bedroom would do the trick.

"The condoms are for Peeta." she repeated, in a mocking frosty voice. "Do you think me a fool?"

"I told him I'd get him some just in case." he snapped.

She stopped trying to push him away to glare, her lips pursed. "Are you telling me I left the children under your sole supervision for three little months and they are now having sex?"

"I'm telling you I ain't taking any risk." he retorted. "You should be happy."

"Happy that you are lying to me?" she scoffed. "If I were to cross the street to Peeta's house right now and ask him if he is expecting condoms, he would say yes, then, wouldn't he?"

That wasn't a given.

"Look…" he sighed.

"You do not owe me anything." she huffed. "You can admit you have a girlfriend."

"I don't do girlfriends." he sneered, aggravated. "Why are you being so difficult?" He rolled his eyes. "Why am I even asking stupid questions…" He shook his head. "And you're right. I don't owe you anything so can you drop the jealousy act?"

He hadn't thought she could purse her lips harder but, apparently, she could. Worse, hurt was starting to replace anger in her blue eyes and she was clearly biting down on the inside of her cheek.

"I need to go back to the shoot." she gritted through clenched teeth.

"You need to stop being an idiot." he mumbled, running a hand in his hair, feeling awkward. "I ain't screwing Hazelle. Like I said she's just a friend."

"I thought she was just your housekeeper." she hissed. "Now she is a friend?"

"You're twisting everything I say." he complained.

"You asked me to bring condoms despite the fact we have not used any in ages and when I come here I find you asking a woman to marry you." she spat, her blue eyes filling with tears.

And, alright, from that point of view…

He tentatively placed his hands on her hips.

"We ain't a couple, sweetheart." he reminded her slowly. He wanted to be firm, to be cruel maybe because that had always been the best way to keep her at arm-length but… It had been a while since he had truly wanted to keep her at arm-length. "No strings."

Her face closed off and, a second later, Effie was gone and the escort was back. A charming cheerful smile on her lips, eyes shining bright in excitement rather than sorrow, the perfect picture of happiness. A lovely doll on a shelf.

He hated it when she did that.

He wasn't sure at which point she had started being herself around him, when she had started losing the mask for him but… He liked the real her, the woman hiding behind her armor of silk and powder… The escort was ruthless and fake and while he understood the necessity of sticking to a public personal – his old drunk one wasn't a favorite of hers either – he hated it when she turned it against him.

"Don't do that." he chided, cupping her cheek.

She tried to remove his hand.

"Please, be careful not to smudge my make-up." she complained in an even voice, as if they hadn't just been arguing. "I really need to go back now."

"You ain't a photographer and you ain't a stylist." he countered. "They can do without you."

"Still." She shot him her most dazzling smile. "I would rather keep an eye on Katniss."

He should have let her go. He should have let her go and jumped on the opportunity because in a few months, the rebellion would start and she would be better off if she wasn't closely associated with him. It would be safer for her. Hell, it would be safer for both of them.

And yet…

"Didn't sleep with her." he insisted, retracing her cheekbone with his thumb, his fingers toying with the minty green wig on her head. Testing if it was glued on or if there was any chance she would take it off… "Don't sleep with anyone else." he added with a wince after a moment because she didn't look convinced. "You know that."

"No, I do not." she replied, in that sing-song bubbly tone he hated. "No matter. As you said, it is no concern of mine. No strings it is. Besides, I have prospects too in the city."

He moved before her words even fully registered, getting into her space, pinning her against the table…

"Mine." he growled.

If she was disturbed by the sudden brutal move, she didn't let on. Her nails were digging hard into his arms. "Am I?"

He stole a kiss, not giving her a chance to protest. Her mouth remained closed and unforgiving under his.

"Princess…" he scowled. The hand that was on her cheek slid to her nape and the one on her waist found her ass… "Stop being a bitch."

"Are those condoms for you?" she demanded to know.

"They're for the boy." he sighed, bumping his nose against her cheek. "Come on… When was the last time I even…"

"What do I know?" she cut him off. "That woman seemed awfully cozy in your house. Leaving you lunch and talking about your laundry."

"She's my housekeeper." he repeated, tired of the endless argument.

"I thought she was your friend." she remarked bitterly.

"Can't she be both?" he grumbled.

She turned her head to the side and he attacked her neck with his mouth, making quick work of that golden brooch that kept the woolen cloak on her shoulders. She must have started to see reason, he figured, or she wouldn't have let him kiss her neck like that.

"Don't you dare leave a mark." she warned. Her hands slowly moved up to his shoulders, a little hesitant. She was trembling and he didn't think it had to do with desire.

With a sigh he drew back, meeting her eyes point blank. "I didn't fuck her. I ain't ever gonna fuck her. Or another one for that matter. I really wanna fuck you though. So, what it's gonna be? We fuck or we wait for three more months?"

She shot him an aggravated look, a pout on her lips.

"Language." she rebuked. Her blue eyes searched his and then she looked away, to a distant point over his shoulder. "Are you in love with her?"

"For fuck's sake, what do I have to say for you to get it?" he shouted, losing his patience.

He stepped back and marched toward the cupboard, grabbing a glass and a bottle of moonshine and slamming both on the counter.

"You said you did not sleep with her not that you did not have feelings for her." she shot right back. "You asked her to marry you."

"It was a fucking joke!" he snapped, pouring himself a glass and downing it in one go.

"You never joke about that with me." she scowled.

"'Cause with you it wouldn't be a joke." he retorted before he could think it through. When what had just slipped out of his mouth registered, he froze. She was watching him with wide startled eyes. A long deep hush fell on the kitchen. He was squeezing the glass so tight he wasn't really surprised when it cracked. He put it down before it shattered and he licked his lips. "I mean…" he clarified, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. "You can't take a joke. You'd take it seriously. Not that… I didn't mean I'd want…"

"Alright." she whispered.

Her face was blank and he didn't dare meet her eyes, didn't dare face the turmoil of emotions he was pretty sure was on display there.

"Didn't sleep with Hazelle." he insisted. "Don't have feelings for her either."

"Alright." she repeated.

"Condoms are for Peeta." he concluded.

"Alright." she said again.

He wasn't sure what to do with all that meekness, wasn't sure how they were going to escape the awkwardness in the kitchen, so he did what he always did when he was unsure: he turned her back to her and poured himself another drink.

"Haymitch?" she called. He heard the quiet ruffling of fabric behind him and figured she was putting her cloak back on.

"What?" He looked through the window over the sink at his deserted weed infested backyard and told himself it was fine. She would go and the next time they saw each other, it would be alright.

"Is this table clean?" she asked.

"Should be. Hazelle scrubs everything down." The question was odd and he glanced at her over his shoulder, thinking maybe she would suggest having lunch to salvage what could be of the day, only to do a double-take when he realized she hadn't been putting her cloak back on. He turned around completely, hastily placing the glass down on the counter, his eyes roaming over all the bare creamy skin on display…

She had lost the dress and the heels. And she was giving him a sultry look.

"Fuck me on it." she commanded.

His feet moved without his leave and, soon enough, she was lying on his kitchen table, he was naked too and he was definitely enjoying having a clean house. It wasn't like they had never done that on a table – hell, if the penthouse's dining-room could talk… – but it was a little different to have her like that in his house, on a table he used mostly every day.

Afterward, while she was still lying there basking in her afterglow, he kissed her stomach, nuzzled her thigh…

"I have a bad habit of breaking engagements." she murmured suddenly.

His heartbeat quickened but he refused to give in to panic. "No kidding. How many again? Three?"

"Three." she confirmed. "I believe the fourth time might be the charm."

"I feel bad for the poor guy who ever put a ring on your finger." he taunted but he also kissed the inside of her knee and offered a hand to help her sit up.

She took it and immediately locked her ankles behind his legs, trapping him right there. She nipped at the tender flesh under his ribcage. "You should if he doesn't get me a big diamond ring… I have been waiting a long time for it, I expect a pretty one."

He rolled his eyes but wrapped his arms around her slender frame, running his fingers down her spine.

"Good thing I'm never marrying you, then." he snorted. "You're too fussy."

She seemed to deflate a little. "They would never let us, would they? Even if… We would not be able to."

"Not right now, no." He shrugged. "Capitols and Districts don't mix, sweetheart. We're barely better than animals, remember?"

"Perhaps one day." she whispered against his skin. A promise or a consolation, he wasn't sure.

"Would imply I actually want to marry you." he grumbled.

"Maybe one day hypothetically." she corrected with a sad chuckle.

"Yeah…" he sighed against her neck. "Hypothetically."

He told himself it wasn't part of why he really wanted that revolution to work out.