Prompt: Hey, may I prompt something then where they finally talk about their very first time then? I loved the hc you just described. Thank you.

New memories

Haymitch rasped his knuckles against the open bedroom door once in warning. He had learned quickly to announce his presence when he walked into a room because she spooked easily, perhaps even more since she had finally been released from the hospital.

"You know Fulvia doesn't like you smoking upstairs." he remarked as soon as he spotted her. She was curled up on the windowsill, clad only in one of his woolen sweater that was far too big for her – even bigger now that her stay in the Capitol's prison had left her so starved – an arm wrapped around her legs, an ashtray balanced on her knees and a cigarette wedged between two fingers.

He didn't ask where she had found the packet because cigarettes were hard enough to come by nowadays that he supposed Plutarch had something to do with it. He didn't have the heart to chide her about smoking either, not when she looked so lost and fragile.

She glanced up at him and shrugged, her eyes quickly moving back to whatever she was watching happening in the street. The work crew down the road repairing a crack in the pavement maybe. Like every other place in Panem, the Capitol had started cleaning and rebuilding.

Haymitch closed the door because he could tell she was in a mood and it could go two ways: either she would curl up and cry or she would end up screaming bloody murder at everyone and anything. She hated Fulvia's guts and Plutarch's assistant-slash-girlfriend had no love lost for her either.

When Plutarch had offered to host him – and Effie by extension – after Coin's death, Haymitch had accepted without a second thought, too happy to leave the Presidential Mansion for more neutral ground. There was Katniss' trial to get ready for and the Mansion had become an actual governmental hub again… It had seemed logical to… move. He hadn't expected how difficult it would be.

He didn't feel at ease in Plutarch's too big house with its clean and white decoration that he was always afraid to mess up. Fulvia's eyes were on him all the time, as if she feared he would break something. The fact that Effie had tagged along, short of somewhere else to go and because he was reluctant to part from her, had added another layer of complications. First because she and Fulvia didn't get along and that made for chilly dinners, then because Effie sometimes remained locked up all day in their bedroom, woke up the whole house at night with her nightmares and was, more generally, not feeling very sociable.

Plutarch had suggested several times that maybe she would have been better in a specialized place like the clinic they had sent Peeta to but Haymitch refused to hear anything about it. Peeta needed time to heal and head doctors to help him sort out his memories. Effie… He knew what they would do to someone like Effie in one of those places. They would tie her up, sedate her and keep her contained for her own safety. That was the Capitol for you. Mental illness was better hidden.

He was certain that given time, she would recover. She had been through hell but she would make it through.

She was so tiny that there was enough space left on the windowsill for him to sit down. He did, gratified when she didn't flinch away. He leaned his back against the glass pane and smirked at her when she wedged her cold bare feet underneath his thigh. She was always cold… All the more so since the Capitol had taken her…

"You're okay, sweetheart?" he asked, coiling a tentative hand around her ankle. She didn't bat it away so it wasn't one of those days when she was so angry she would rage and – rightly – verbally tear him to shreds.

It was a stupid question of course. She was far from being okay.

"I was thinking…" she answered, taking a drag of her cigarette. He hated the smell and he knew the room would reek of it but he didn't complain. "I was trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong… And then I was trying to remember… Do you know how this whole thing started?"

He drew soothing circles on her ankle, studying her. "What thing?"

She scoffed as if it was obvious. Maybe it was to her. She had that faraway look that tended to mean she was a little lost in her mind. "Us."

"Ah…" How eloquent of him. Them. What a dangerous subject.

"I don't really remember the first time we had sex…" she confessed flatly.

"Probably 'cause I sucked." he snorted.

She glanced at him, a ghost of a smile touching her lips before she returned her attention to the street. "Probably, yes."

"It was quick." he added, after a second of hesitation. "I was drunk. Not… wasted but drunk enough. And you were angry. We were both angry."

"When weren't we at that point?" she remarked and, again, it was too flat.

"Yeah…" he admitted. "So, we were screaming and then it happened…"

"You kissed me." she whispered. The fingers holding the cigarette were trembling and he stilled his thumb on her ankle.

"Other way around." he countered.

She frowned and looked at him, her blue eyes a little more focused. "I would never have kissed you. You must have kissed me."

He wrinkled his nose. "Nah, sweetheart. I'm pretty sure it was you. You moved first. I just… followed."

She shook her head and dropped the cigarette in the ashtray before placing that on the floor. "You kissed me first."

It was a little more certain this time, a little stronger.

He wasn't entirely surprised when she moved onto his lap, curling up on him like a child or a teenager or something they were definitely too old to be. He didn't complain though. He would never complain about her being in his arms.

"Is it really important to know?" he shrugged.

"It should be, shouldn't it?" she frowned. "It was our first time and I can barely remember how it went…"

Because it had been frantic and mad and rough and it hadn't been supposed to happen. It hadn't been supposed to count or ever happen again and they had both been adamant it had been a glitch and they should forget.

"Maybe…" he hesitated, brushing her now chin-length hair behind her ear. "Maybe we should just make new memories, sweetheart… Happier ones."

She watched him for a long moment and then smiled a small smile. A small smile was progress. She hadn't been doing a lot of smiling since her rescue. "And we will know who kissed the other first this time."

"That's easy…" he said quietly. "That's gonna be you. All on your terms, Effie."

She cupped his cheek and, for a second, he thought she was going to do it, kiss him, erase the past few months of anguish… But she just leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, happy with what he could get.

"New memories… I want that." she whispered.

Well, then… That was a start, wasn't it?