Prompt: May I prompt? It might sound like a stretch, but would you mind writing Hayffie as Seattle Grace's surgeons?

How We Operate

Effie was pursing her lips so tight as she strode toward the break room that she was certain her lovely cherry red lipstick had probably faded. It was the only way she could keep her composure though. Pinch her mouth in a tight line, move fast and with purpose, and hope the hard look in her eyes would be enough for people to get out of her way. Most people knew better than try to detain as surgeon who looked determined and was walking that fast.

She almost didn't reach the break room in time.

The moment she was safely inside the bright lit room and the door was closed behind her, she sucked in a breath that remained stuck in her throat. She allowed herself one sob before swallowing back the rest, blinking hard to fight the tears.

"Bad day, sweetheart?"

The question was asked in an almost bored tone.

She startled because, at first glance, she had thought she was alone. The kitchenette area was empty, nobody was sitting at the round table or standing next to the door leading to the restroom… She had to take a few steps inside the room to finally spot him. The couch faced the window and its back was to the door, lying down on it as he was, she had to peer over the back to see him. It was the perfect hiding place to escape his students.

Haymitch Abernathy was always eager to escape his interns.

She would know. She had been one of them once upon a time.

"I lost a patient." she said, not even bothering to ask how he had known it was her and not someone else – although maybe he hadn't known, he had a bad tendency to call every woman by pet names which had gotten him in troubles with the HR department more than once.

His grey eyes searched her face and then he winced. "Shouldn't have gone into Peds. Kids are the worst. They get to you."

"So you've said." she sighed because she had lost count of how many times they had fought about that. "Repeatedly." She walked around the couch and he lifted his legs long enough for her to sit, then he dropped them back on her lap without ceremony. He had taken off his shoes at some point and his socks were a dubious grey. They were also slightly smelly but she didn't bother protesting. He would just have retorted that her feet didn't smell much better after a six hours long surgery and she wasn't in any mood for that sort of comments. "Are you playing hide and seek with your interns again?"

He shrugged and glanced at the phone he had abandoned on the coffee table – expecting to be paged then. "I told Heavensbee I'd stay out of the OR today."

She frowned, forgetting her own problems. "Why?"

He hesitated and then shrugged again. "I'm having a bad day."

She studied him, glanced at his hands… "Do you need me to drive you to a meeting?"

His alcoholism was almost as notorious as his reputation. He had gone off the wagon a couple of times in the years they had known each other but he had never endangered any patient – he had always warned Heavensbee when he slipped and went off to deal with it before coming back to work, she suspected it was the only reason he still had a job even if he was probably the best trauma surgeon on this side of the country.

He had been sober for a while now, though. Mostly.

"You're not my keeper." he grumbled. "I'm alright. I just… Needed some quiet."

"Oh." She dropped her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes. "I could use some quiet too."

He snorted. "One thing you can never do, sweetheart, is quiet."

She huffed. "Now, that is preposterous. I am perfectly capable of being quiet."

He smirked at her, grey eyes twinkling with mirth. "Last time you said you could be quiet, you got us in trouble."

She watched him for a moment, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. "Well. I told you the supply closet was a bad idea."

"It was fine until you screamed loud enough to alert half the hospital." he pointed out, looking far too smug.

The crux of the problem hadn't really been the fact that they had been having sex inside the hospital – everyone was having sex inside the hospital – the real matter was that she had been his subordinate at the time and that while it wasn't strictly forbidden per se it did bring up a lot of ethical problems. It would have been easier if they had been in a relationship instead of just screwing around – or so Chief Heavensbee had claimed.

She glared at him a little longer and then looked away with another huff, unable to contradict him.

"Which one kicked the bucket?" he asked after a few seconds.

Anyone else would have taken offense but Effie had known him for close to a decade at that point and she knew his defense mechanisms. His sarcastic attitude, his caustic remarks… It was all a way to try and keep some needed distance, to not drown in all the death that surrounded them days in and out.

"Primrose Everdeen." she whispered with difficulties. She felt the lump coming back in her throat and she clenched her jaw, closing her eyes again.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm sorry." he sighed.

He shifted his legs off her lap and tugged her into him. She leaned against his chest without bothering to open her eyes, breathing him in. He smelled like he always did and that was a comfort: a mix of cheap soap, faint sweat and the same hint of hospital she carried everywhere.

"We knew it was touch and go." she reminded him, making sure her voice was steady. She wasn't sure it fooled him but, then again, she hardly ever managed to. "I should have known better. She survived the first night and I let myself hope…"

"You did all you could." he chided her. "Can't do miracles, sweetheart."

She couldn't do miracles but perhaps if she had let him handle it… The ER had been swamped when the ambulances had brought the sisters in. There had been some sort of explosion in the poorest district in town and almost all the wounded had ended up in their hospital… The girl was young enough to be a pediatric case and Effie had extensive trauma training thanks to her not quite platonic mentor so… She had taken it without a second thought.

The girl had practically been dead at the scene though.

It was a wonder she had hold on for that long.

"How's her sister doing?" she asked.

Haymitch had gotten the second ambulance and the badly burned girl who had kept screaming for her patient.

Effie told herself not to think it was why the second girl was alive.

She had done all she could. It was likely even with his superior skills Haymitch wouldn't have been able to save her. It was also likely the reason why he hadn't objected when she had claimed Prim, choosing instead to focus on the older sister.

"She's gonna make it." he answered quietly. "Badly burned but stable. Finnick's optimistic they can reduce the scarring to a minimum."

Finnick was the best plastic surgeon she knew and if he was already worrying about scarring then the girl would most likely survive the ordeal.

"I need to talk to her when she wakes up." Effie sighed. "The mother… I told her about Prim, of course, but… She didn't seem really…"

She let her sentence trail off but it didn't matter. He nodded against her head. "Yeah, I noticed. I'll talk to Katniss with you if you want."

She was capable of doing it herself and if it had been anyone else she would have been annoyed by the offer. She curled up against him instead, pressing her forehead against the side of his neck. "I want to go home very badly."

She wanted to indulge. Put on her favorite pink flannel pajamas with the little crowns – the one that he had bought her for her birthday – eat something her mother wouldn't approve of and watch bad reality TV.

"Yours or mine?" he teased.

"If you were not so stubborn you would have moved into the penthouse already." she muttered, feeling the beginning of a stress headache pulsing behind her eyes.

"If you weren't so stubborn you'd have moved your stuff into my house." he retorted without missing a beat.

"You hate that house." she pointed out.

"Maybe but your penthouse's too fancy." he grumbled. "It's got a doorman for fuck's sake."

"A doorman who believes you live with me." she retorted. "That's how often you go back to your house."

"I'd go back more often if you came with me." he complained.

"Nobody forces you to spend the night with me, you know." she mocked. "If you want to go sleep in your cold bed in your cold house by your lonesome self, be my guest."

She would wear him out on the living arrangements issue, she already knew it. When he wasn't at the hospital, he was at her place.

"You're the one who doesn't like to sleep alone." he accused. "You're a cuddler."

She couldn't help it, she let out a short laugh. "Oh, I am the cuddler, am I?"

That was hilarious. He was worse than an octopus in a bed. He wasn't happy until he was wrapped around her.

"Yeah, you are." he insisted. His voice softened a little. "Not that I mind." She smiled and buried her face in his shoulder. She felt the familiar scrape of his stubble when he pressed a kiss against her forehead. "Better, Princess?"

She tilted her head up so she could peck his lips. "Yes. Thank you."

"How long until you're off?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Six hours." she sighed, checking her watch. "I need to go. I have a surgery in fifteen minutes."

"Ain't sure I'm gonna stick around." he warned her. "Might go home early. Get some sleep."

"Go to a meeting first." she requested. She made sure it didn't sound like a command.

He rolled his eyes all the same. "You know I hate that shit. Doesn't help anything."

"Humor me." she insisted, leaning in to drop another peck on his lips.

He glared at her but ended up pursing his lips in that boyish pout she liked so much. "Fine. Don't be late, I'll make dinner."

"Lasagnas?" she asked hopefully.

Amusement danced across his face. "Sometimes I think you're only with me 'cause of my cooking."

"Do not be absurd. I am also with you because of your skills." she teased, standing up.

His arms fell from around her and he watched her as she walked to the square mirror hanging on the wall.

"As a surgeon?" he challenged.

"Those skills are nice too." she hummed with her most devious grin, making sure her ponytail was straight. She would need to reapply some lipstick.

He snorted but squeezed her hand when she walked past him again, a lot of things going unvoiced. She was still sad and it was okay but she couldn't let it consume her, she had other patients who needed her. She was having a shitty day but the day would end and he would be there to curl up with on the couch.

There were worse lives to live.

Ironically, I think it's the healthiest modern au they've been in... Who knew? Let me know your thoughts!