I read Elizabeth's thoughts about Effie being bi or pan and I was thinking, could you write something where at some point haymitch and Effie bump into a somewhat serious ex girlfriend of effies and haymitch is like what? The fuck?

The Memory Of A Kiss

"I am sorry to trouble you." Plutarch insisted in that tone that meant he wasn't sorry at all because Effie was little more than a glorified assistant in that District. The former Head Gamemaker even walked ahead of them.

"I assure you it is no trouble." she replied cheerfully.

Haymitch's shoulder not so accidentally bumped into hers and she glanced at him, lifting her eyebrows in a silent question. His grey eyes were twinkling with amusement and he lifted his own eyebrows back.

She supposed that meant he wasn't fooled by her pretences and knew exactly just how irritated she was.

"Haymitch and I really need to be in Command." Plutarch went on as if she hadn't answered him at all. "And I really need that asset debriefed. Just take some notes and then type them for me, that will be enough. I can pass them along to President Coin."

She gritted her teeth and reminded herself that her safety was precarious in this place. She patted her low blond ponytail self-consciously, always too aware of what she looked like clad in those awful uniforms. She had tried to rebel against the dress code by customizing them but Coin was ruthless and Haymitch had begged her to stop being confrontational before she ended up in a cell for disobeying the rules.

There were days she truly didn't understand why they were exchanging the Capitol for another brand of tyrant.

"She's my escort, not your secretary." Haymitch rebuked with some irritation.

Being his escort was very much like being a secretary sometimes but she minded it less when it was Haymitch. He behaved like he had always behaved. Plutarch… Plutarch acted like a true Capitol and tended to be a little dismissive because she was not on par with his social status in Thirteen. He was at the top of the food chain and she was at the very bottom.

"I do not mind." she insisted.

Spending the day with a Capitol agent who had fled the city in a near-miss with death after being discovered and who had managed to join a group of refugees just in time to escape to Thirteen seemed more riveting than listening to Coin ramble on and on about the delicate problem that was Four. Apparently the District wasn't key to their victory but she really wanted to take it anyway. And that was without talking about the bombs that kept raining on Three and the images they were forced to watch in Command. No, really, she would have a better time talking to a no-doubt dashing spy.

Fortunately, they arrived at the refugees triage room before the bickering between Plutarch and Haymitch could escalate – they had been bickering quite a lot lately, they shared a compartment and it triggered tensions because… Well, Haymitch was a slob and Plutarch was probably the kind of men used to strict order, which meant that Haymitch had relocated most of his stuff in her room and while they weren't openly admitting they were living together… They sort of were, she supposed. Unofficially.

The Head Gamemaker immediately led them away from where the families were gathered at the center of the room with their meager belongings, waiting for a soldier to call them so they could be processed and explained the rules, and toward a smaller side-room that Effie knew to be the interrogation room.

That wasn't what it was called but that was what it looked like.

That was where she had been processed after her arrival in Thirteen – her kidnapping, as she liked to call it.

The mood wasn't as tensed in there as it had been for her but, then again, she supposed spies were more welcomed than escorts.

"Lys?" she gasped, shocked, when she recognized the woman sitting in front of the small desk.

The spy looked up in surprise and her face immediately lightened in relief and joy. She bolted off her chair and to her, prompting two small alarmed reactions from the soldier and Haymitch, but the women both ignored that as they hugged tight.

"You are here!" Lys whispered in her ear. "I wondered but there was no finding out what had happened to you. I am so glad you are safe…"

The woman drew back long enough to frame her face and Effie took the time to assess… Lys didn't look hurt. Very tired, yes, but not hurt. She was wearing a forest green dress that had seen better days but that still stood out against her dark complexion. The black jacket was dreadful and Effie wasn't sure where she had picked it up but she supposed style wasn't the most important thing when you were fleeing the Capitol. Her black eyes were just as fascinating as usual though, they still felt as if they were looking right into Effie's soul. And Lys had changed her hair since the last time she had seen her: gone were the glossy purple hair that reached the small of her back, it was short and straight now, dyed in a declination of yellow, pink and brown with the occasional white strand. It looked amazing on her.

Too aware of what she looked like in her grey jumpsuit and hasty natural blond ponytail, Effie felt inadequate. There weren't many women who could make her feel less beautiful than them but Lys Verdi had always been one of them. She could have been a model if she had so chosen but she had always claimed the life of a socialite suited her better.

As if sensing her sudden insecurity, Lys smiled and gently wrapped her hand around the ponytail, brushing it over her shoulder and very much stroking the side of her throat while she was at it. Effie licked her lips. It was an automatic response.

"Gorgeous as ever." the woman offered despite the fact that Effie had certainly never let her see her without her wig or make-up before.

"Oh, please." she dismissed with an embarrassed chuckle. "We both know that is far from the truth."

Lys shook her head gracefully and then closed her eyes and let her forehead fall against hers. "I am so glad to see you… I feared they had caught you."

"I am glad to see you." she offered because it was true. The relief and joy she felt at seeing a familiar face… Someone from home, someone from her life, who wouldn't look at her oddly because she was a Capitol with Capitol quirks… It couldn't be explained.

Lys leaned in and Effie let her, out of a never truly forgotten reflex. It was so chaste a kiss it could barely be called that. A peck a touch too long to be entirely innocent but certainly nothing to write songs about.

At least, that was what she thought until Plutarch cleared his throat and Effie crashed back into reality. And she crashed back hard.

She quickly let go of Lys' arms and stepped back at a proper distance, cursing the lack of make-up that made her blushing so obvious. She looked at Haymitch but his face was closed, his hands were deep in his pockets, he was slightly slouched and his grey eyes were glaring a hole into the floor.

"I see introductions are not necessary?" Plutarch teased.

"We are old friends." Effie declared, still trying to catch Haymitch's gaze. To no avail.

"Friends…" Lys repeated with a disapproving twitch of her perfectly shape eyebrows. She let the word draw out, clearly waiting for her to amend.

And she did because, to be honest, they had never been friends. "Old flames?"

"Better." Lys laughed, turning to the Head Gamemaker. "I apologize, Plutarch, Effie always managed to distract me. I have information for you."

"Good. Good." Plutarch nodded. "Effie will help you settle down and show you around. She will pass any intel you have to me."

"Maybe that's not the most clever plan." Haymitch grumbled. "If she's such a distraction and all…"

"Haymitch…" Effie sighed. She paused, then sighed again and shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "Haymitch, may I introduce Lys Verdi? Lys, I trust you already know who Haymitch is."

Lys, polite as ever, offered her hand to shake.

Haymitch, unsurprisingly, simply sneered at it.

"We are all on the same team here, Haymitch." Plutarch quietly reminded him.

"Some more than others." he muttered and Effie glared.

He did shake Lys' hand though. It may have lasted a little too long and he might have squeezed a little too hard if the socialite's amusement was to be believed.

"Alright." Plutarch clapped his hands and grabbed Haymitch's arm. "We really need to go to Command now."

"I'll see you tonight." Haymitch declared. Loudly. It almost sounded like a warning.

Effie pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head to the side but if he noticed her annoyance, he didn't let on. They may have been unofficially sharing a room but they weren't in a habit to advertise. Of course, they had been… Perhaps they had been less careful than usual since they had arrived in Thirteen, less quick to deny, less desperate to hide… But they hadn't gone and admitted it either. Doing it like that, meaninglessly, out of petty jealousy… It didn't sit well with her.

"Let's get you settled." Effie offered once the two men had left.

They got her welcome pack from the soldier, along with her new compartment number.

"Are they serious about this rule book?" Lys asked, nodding at the huge file Effie was carrying while she struggled with the clothes and first necessary items. Soldiers weren't known for their gallantry and nobody in the District lifted a finger to help two frail women carrying heavy load. Well, it wasn't that heavy. Effie had carried her own by herself.

"They are serious about everything." Effie told her in a whisper. "This place is dreadful."

"It is better than refugees camps in some Districts." the woman argued. "It was a long trip from the Capitol… I have seen things you wouldn't believe. Honestly, I feel lucky to be here."

There was a gravity to her words that told Effie she should stop complaining. That was one of the things she hadn't really liked about Lys. The woman had depths she wasn't afraid to show. She advertised her interests for politics and science, passing it as a mere hobby between two parties, but always displaying such understanding and intelligence that Effie had more than once felt inadequate standing next to her. She had sometimes felt as if the dumb escort act hadn't been such an act. It had been no fault of Lys, of course. She hadn't aimed to make her feel that way. But…

"I cannot believe you were a spy." she declared, redirecting the conversation on safer ground. "How long have you been working for the rebellion?"

"A couple of years." Lys answered.

"Oh…" Effie frowned. "So not when we…"

"No." The woman shook her head. "I would never have done that to you."

She wasn't sure there were limits to what people did to each other in the name of this rebellion. Haymitch had purposefully kept her in the dark even when she had demanded to be told what was going on, he had lied to her, hidden things from her… He had helped turned their girl into a symbol behind her back…

"Here. Number 606. It is your room." she said, pointing at a sliding door that nothing differentiated from the others lining down the corridor except for the small numbers on the side.

"This place is a maze." Lys winced. "I will get lost."

"There is a map in the rule book." Effie reassured her. "And there are maps on the walls at key intersections. It is overwhelming at first but I promise it is not that difficult once you get the gist of it." The compartment was empty and she didn't think someone else was living there yet. "You will probably be assigned a roommate."

"Do you have one?" Lys asked, looking around the small living quarters curiously.

"Oh… No." she hummed awkwardly, sliding the door shut and automatically drawing closed the curtains of the window that gave on the corridor. She hated those plastic windows. "Be careful in the bathroom. It is awfully small and water tends to get everywhere when you shower. Oh, and there are only five minutes of hot water per day."

She explained everything she could think of, how to place her arm in the small cavity in the wall to get her schedule temporarily tattooed on her wrist, the important rules that could get you in trouble… She remained in the small living area when Lys went into the bedroom corner to change out of her green dress and into the standard grey jumpsuit, purposefully keeping her eyes on the wall to give her some privacy.

"Oh, and do not try to customize the uniform." she warned. "I almost got arrested for that if you can believe it. They tolerate headscarves but barely. They really dislike anything that makes you stand out. If you can find a painless way to remove your fake nails, I would advise you to do it before someone notices and reports you. They are not exactly… skilled when it came to taking them off."

She looked down at her own hands and the chipped damaged nails she now had to contend with. Two had turned black.

"Have they hurt you, dove?" Lys asked with a frown, leaning against the bedroom threshold.

The familiar nickname associated with how good the woman looked in the jumpsuit – and truly no one had a right to make those jumpsuits look so good – made her feel uneasy. The attraction was still there, that was plain to see.

Lys had pushed her sleeves up and Effie's eyes were drawn to the golden tattoos on her forearms. She had always loved how the gold contrasted with her dark skin.

"They are not allowed to touch me. Haymitch got me immunity." she said. "But they do not like the fact there is an escort in their District and they are not shy about letting me know."

"Effie…" Lys breathed out with worry and sympathy.

"It is of no consequence." she dismissed. "I am perfectly fine. Now… You must be hungry, are you not?"

Effie's schedule read lunchtime and she figured the dining hall was as good a place as any to finally get to the point and get the report Plutarch wanted. She had forgotten how overwhelming the place could be when you first arrived. Lys kept looking around, not oblivious at all to the curious – when not outright hostile – looks her hair warranted her.

"They truly do not like Capitols much." the spy remarked once they had found a small table in a corner. It wasn't empty but the group of soldiers they had to share with was sitting at the other end, far enough that they could have some semblance of privacy.

"That is a nice euphemism." Effie chuckled, attacking the insipid dish and regretting the fact that Haymitch wasn't there because he always gave her some of his share. She had never been a big eater but she was often hungry in Thirteen.

She quizzed Lys while they ate, scribbling precise notes down. By the time both of their trays were empty they had moved back to other topics but neither of them suggested leaving the hall. The noon rush was over now and there was something almost hypnotic to watching people sit down, eat, stand up and leave with such precision they might as well have been robots.

It wasn't hard to figure out who was born in Thirteen and who came from other Districts despite the uniforms. People from other Districts were always more prone to enjoying meal times, to laugh together and make it a communal moment.

"They do not waste any second in this place, do they?" Lys asked.

"They live according to their wrist." she snorted.

She loved her schedules, she did. She had dozens color coded journals and diaries at home. She loved schedules.

But this was taking it a step too far.

Branding her own arm with a timetable every morning and getting in trouble when she didn't follow it? She didn't like it. And she was more lucky than most. Given that her job was to act as Katniss' prep team, stylist and babysitter when she wasn't following Plutarch or Haymitch around to take notes and fetch them whatever they needed like a glorified assistant, her schedule was somehow flexible, changing with the tide of war. She knew for a fact people like Haymitch's housekeeper or Katniss' mother had strict hours branded on their skin.

"That is no life at all." Lys commented, the tips of her fingers brushing against Effie's inner wrist where the timetable was inked.

Her hand twitched but she didn't take it off the table.

She frowned. "Lys…"

"I was thinking…" the woman hummed. "Since you do not have a roommate… Perhaps we could request to share? After all… We already know we can live together and…"

"I have someone." she interrupted quietly.

Lys trailed her fingers from her wrist to her hand. "I noticed. He is not very subtle, is he? A bit boorish."

"Nevertheless." she argued.

"But you are not married. Nothing is set in stone." Lys countered. "We were very good together, weren't we?"

They had been. Effie had been madly in love with her. For a few weeks, at least. It had been a spark. A glorious, short-lived spark.

Then she had gone to the Sixty-Ninth Reaping and Haymitch had antagonized her too much and she had ended up with her back against a wall and her victor between her legs and she had wondered how she could be with Lys when nothing compared to what she felt when Haymitch touched her. Lys hadn't been the first girlfriend or boyfriend she had cheated on with him. She wasn't particularly proud of it. She had loathed herself for it because most of them had been good people she had cared for. At least until she had remembered that no matter how many times she tried to forget him with someone else, she always went back to him for more.

She belonged to him.

It was the sad pathetic truth.

From the first kiss shared in anger and hatred, he had owned her. Body and soul.

"Oh." Lys smiled softly, taking her hand away. "You are in love with him."

She licked her lips and didn't dare meet her eyes. "I would love rooming with you but…"

"Your bed is taken." Lys finished for her with some amusement. "It is alright, I understand. I am sure there are plenty of lonely women around."

"And they would be lucky to have you." Effie smiled.

She didn't suggest they remained friends. They hadn't remained friends after the breakup, they had awkwardly avoided each other for months until it had been socially acceptable for them to simply nod and wave at each other from afar at parties when they couldn't help exchanging a few polite words. There were people you couldn't be friends with because it was either all or nothing.

A little like with Haymitch.

But without compare.

If what she had shared with Lys was a spark, what she had with Haymitch was a blaze.

She had never loved anyone like she loved him. What they shared… It was madness. Passion. Born out of hatred, forged in fire… Poisonous and deadly and… It consumed everything. It was wild. Larger than life. And painful. Oh so painful…

But she wouldn't have exchanged it for the world.

They parted amicably after Effie had pointed her out in the direction of her compartment and she spent the rest of the afternoon in the small room near the shooting studio Plutarch had commandeered as his office, typing out Lys' report as well as some possible speeches for Katniss. She didn't see why they bothered given that the girl only did and said what she wanted but it was a task she had been given and she would see it through.

It was late by the time she went back to the dining hall for dinner – certainly later than the schedule on her wrist advised – and it was mostly empty. She gave a wide berth to the refugees from Eleven because they were very hostile to her and she didn't feel quite safe around them. A few faces at other tables were familiar, people from Twelve she had seen Haymitch talking to, but she didn't dare impose herself on them even if the old woman who kept calling him a boy to his face without blinking – she thought her name was something Sae – nodded at her when their eyes met. She didn't think the woman would have chased her off but she didn't want to tempt it.

She sat at an empty table at the far end. She always kept a wall at her back when she was alone in this District. She wasn't sure where she had picked up the habit but it made her feel better to know no one could jump on her – and given the looks some people shot her, it was a real possibility.

She absent-mindedly tapped her fork on her boiled turnips, lost in the memories Lys had brought back, wondering what it said about her that she had exchanged a happy steady relationship for something where everything was left unsaid and where nothing was certain – even if the sex was unparalleled. The clatter of a tray being carelessly dropped on the table in front of her made her look up, lips pursed.

Haymitch flopped down on the bench, undisturbed by her pouting.

She glanced behind him and spotted Plutarch, Boggs and Coin settling down at another table.

"Where's your girlfriend?" he scoffed as a hello.

"Ex-girlfriend." she corrected. "And jealousy does not suit you."

He angrily stabbed a turnip, sparing her a glare. "You've got nerves saying that when you've been on my case about Hazelle and those other women."

"An entirely different situation." she huffed.

He might argue she was crazy all he wanted, she knew what she was seeing. And what she was seeing was a bunch of women who had no home left and who wouldn't have minded cozying up with Twelve's victor. The fact that he was handsome – and now sober – was a nice plus. As for Hazelle Hawthorne… She knew when someone coveted her significant other, thank you very much, she wasn't born yesterday.

"Yeah." he sneered. "Cause I don't go kissing them."

She winced and cut a turnip in two before clearing her throat. "It was barely a kiss."

"Locked lips. I call that a kiss." he spat. "But, hey, if that's okay with you then just let me find a girl…"

He made a show of looking around and she quickly trapped his ankle between hers under the table, a little afraid he would actually select a woman and kiss her to make a point. He would. She knew he would.

"She kissed me." she pointed out.

"And you kissed back." he growled, stabbing another poor turnip.

She licked her lips and sighed. "She is… a very beautiful woman."

"Yeah." he agreed, more easily than she had expected. "But see… Thing is… When I say you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen? I sure mean it but that doesn't mean there aren't other gorgeouswomen around. Some I may have slept with before, even. And I still don't go and kiss them just for the hell of it. See where I'm going with that?"

She did see but her pride was getting in the way of admitting he was right. "It was barely a kiss Haymitch. Is it because she is a woman?"

She knew he had some… insecurities about that part of her sexuality. Her preferences didn't bother him but he was always more prone to act out when a woman flirted with her or…

"Sweetheart, if she had been a man I'd have punched her." he snapped.

"We are not exclusive." she reminded him even if it was a moot point and one she would have liked to see buried six feet underground. It had been a long time since their casual affair had turned into something serious. But like everything with them it had been left unacknowledged.

"Yeah?" he challenged, letting his fork clatter in his tray. He stared straight at her, his grey eyes dark with anger and jealousy. "Careful, Effie. 'Cause you keep saying things like this maybe I'm really gonna test the theory."

"Yes?" she hissed back, putting her own fork and knife down to place her hands flat on the table, ready to push herself up and storm out. "I knew you were only looking for an opportunity to go with that Hawthorne woman."

"The fuck are you even talking about?" he sneered. "You're the one who's kissing other people and saying it's okay 'cause we're not exclusive. Maybe you want another piece of her ass for old time's sake, yeah? That's what you want?"

"Stop being an idiot!" she retorted, rising her voice a little too high. "I am not the one with cold feet in this relationship."

"Not what it feels like every night." he mocked. "Your feet feel like fucking ice cubes."

That brought her short.

She stared at him, wrinkled her nose and sighed in frustration. "What are you even talking about?"

"I'm talking about you kissing ex-girlfriends like it's okay." he scowled. "You're talking nonsense as usual."

"She kissed me." she persisted.

"You kissed back." he accused once more.

She rolled her eyes. "For perhaps a second."

"So you admit it!" he triumphed. Again, too loud. Heads were starting to turn in their direction.

"Yes." she gave in with irritation. "Yes. I kissed her back. I should not have. I admit it. There. I apologize. Are you happy now?"

He didn't look happy but he finished his turnips in silence. She was coveting his yoghurt and very much wanted to swap it against the cheese they had given her but she didn't dare request it yet.

Truth be told, if he had gone and kissed an ex-girlfriend in front of her – no matter how chaste the kiss – she would have made a much more dramatic scene than the one he had just made.

"I am sorry." she whispered, more sincerely subdued. "I did not intend to kiss back. It just… happened."

"Okay." he grumbled, not looking at her.

"Haymitch." she insisted, squeezing his ankle between hers.

It was at least a good minute before he slowly moved his other leg to frame her own ankle. It wasn't very discrete even if it was happening under the table but she supposed nobody was paying them attention anymore and the dining hall was almost empty anyway.

"When was it? With her. When was it?" he asked.

"Six years ago." she answered. "I broke it off during the Games because… Well… You know why. I do not like cheating on people."

He scoffed at that. "See, you say that like it's a good thing but all that it tells me is that you do cheat. Doesn't matter if you like it or not."

"The only times I ever cheated were on other people and with you." she replied defensively.

"Yeah but you still did it and you liked some of them. Like that woman." he pointed out, still not meeting her eyes. "So what's to say you won't cheat on me with someone you're really attracted to? Again, like her. Maybe it's gonna be an accident. That's what we used to say, yeah? I can't know it won't happen."

"Yes, you can actually." She frowned. "First, because I never lied to you about anything. And then because I did like some of them but I do not like you."

She stared until he briefly met her eyes, the challenge clear in her gaze. She would say what she felt for him and he wouldn't like to hear it. He was the one who always insisted they shouldn't get attached and who always cut her short when she tried to make him understand.

"She's really pretty." he remarked slowly. "Even with the ridiculous hair."

"I happen to find you more handsome." she retorted without hesitation.

He tossed her a look that clearly meant he wasn't buying that but he pushed the pot of yoghurt in her direction and grabbed the cheese on her tray.

"Let's stop saying we're not exclusive, yeah?" he muttered.

Her lips twitched but she forced herself to remain detached. "I have not been with anyone else in five years."

"Except for the people you kiss back." he scoffed.

"How long are you going to hold that over my head?" She sighed. "I already apologized."

He snorted. "How long would you?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. He lifted his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine." she granted, attacking the yoghurt. "I would lord it over you for quite some time. But I would also believe you if you said I am the only one you are interested in."

He studied her for a moment and then finally relaxed. "You're gonna see her again?"

It sounded more casual than accusative so she didn't bother getting defensive.

"Not if I can help it." She shook her head. "We are not friends material."

"Alright." he said, and this time it was entirely casual. There was a spark of mirth in his eyes when he slouched a little in his chair. "You still owe me, sweetheart."

"Do I?" she grinned. "And how do you intend to have me repay you, I wonder?"

His gaze trailed to her mouth and stayed there long enough to make his desire clear.

She supposed it was only fair. The offense had come from her lips going astray after all.

They finished their meal quickly and mostly in silence before leaving the dining hall. It was a long succession of corridors and elevators to the habitations area and Effie spent half the way pondering how to say what she wanted to say.

"I think you should move in with me." she declared eventually, as they rounded the corner that led to her compartment. He briefly paused but easily caught up with her. She continued, pretending not to have noticed. "They will assign me a roommate at some point and… You are already living here anyway and Plutarch already knows where you spend your nights, so… We do not have to advertize it but I think we should make it official at least administratively. You know… Just in case they want to assign me a roommate."

She expected an argument. She really did.

"Sure." He shrugged. "In case they want to give you a roommate. Can't have that." She opened the sliding door and let herself in, grinning hard. He waited until he had closed the door and nobody could hear them to continue. "Imagine if they try to kiss you and you kiss back…"

"Oh!" she huffed in exasperation, turning around to shove him against the door. "Enough with this…" The kiss she pressed on his mouth was nothing chaste or innocent. It was hard and dirty and she bit down on his bottom lip, making him groan. She drew back. "There. This is a real kiss. Did you see me kiss anyone else like this? Did you?"

She captured his mouth again, not leaving him time to answer that and not very surprised when he grabbed her under the ass and flopped them over so she was the one with her back against the door.

"Don't want to see you kissing anyone else." he growled, sinking his teeth in her neck and sucking the delicate flesh. It would leave a mark. Then again, she supposed it was rather the point. "Ever."

"Never again." she promised, her fingers doing a quick job of discarding his clothes. "I am sorry."

His hand sneaked inside her jumpsuit and squeezed her breast over her grey tank top. "Prove it."

She didn't mind praying for forgiveness on her knees.

Not for him.

And not when he was the one begging at the end of it.