Prompt: Could you do a fic of one or maybe a couple of instances of post mj where haymitch is really mad at effie (and probably vice versa) but then she has a flashback or something and he has to reluctantly help her. I imagine them to go through a phase when they're almost back to normal with their arguing and everything but she's still not quite recovered so there are times when he's thinking like 'I'm really fucking mad at you right now but also I still love you so come here I guess'

I prefer not to look at the number of chapters because it is slightly crazy XD

Always Means Always

Effie chased after him into the kitchen like a fury even though Haymitch would have much preferred for her to go upstairs and slam a door or something.

"We have the means!" she snapped. "I do not see what the big deal is!"

"Yeah." he sneered, heading straight for the cupboard where he now kept his booze – because, ever since she had moved in without really informing first that it was what she was doing, everything had to be in its proper place or there was hell to pay. Even if it was his own fucking house."I know you don't see."

She never did.

He would grant her that, after what she had been through during the war, she had grown up a lot on several issues. For instance, if you had told him three years earlier that she would last that long living in Twelve, where there weren't any clubs or dozens of shops, he would have scoffed at you. But she had been living in Twelve for three years and she was quite happy at that.

They were usually quite happy.

The shadows the war had left behind were mostly gone now and they had found some sort of balance and they were happy. It wasn't a glamorous life and she seemed okay with that. It meant making concessions and he was mostly okay with that.

But there were things…

"Do not dare take that pedantic tone to talk to me." she warned in a hiss. "I am not a child and…"

"Could have fooled me." he cut her off, pouring himself a glass. "Cause you're acting like a spoiled brat! I told you we didn't need new curtains. You fucking bought new ones last year. And the year before that too! We don't need to fucking change the damn curtains every bloody year!"

The curtains weren't really the problem. The problem was that she would go on those decorating sprees and then everything had to go and…

She was right, they had the means. She had been mostly broke when she had showed up in Twelve but she had been building a steady business as a dressmaker since then – steady enough that she was really toying with the idea of opening an actual shop – and, of course, he never wanted for money. That wasn't the point though.

"What do you care?" she retorted. "I am surprised you even noticed! You…"

"People are starving for fuck's sake!" he shouted, losing what was left of his cool. He banged his fist against the counter in his irritation. "And here you go spending a fucking indecent amount of money on fucking curtains?"

He waited for the retort that was sure to come : people weren't really starving anymore even though there would always be poverty somewhere; but she remained silent. Her eyes were riveted to his hand and her breath had gone shallow.

He immediately winced but didn't cross the room to go to her, swallowing half his glass instead.

"Oh, come on. Not now." he scoffed.

She licked her lips, took a breath that sounded treacherous. "I'm... I'm sorry. I… I need some air."

She took two steps toward the backdoor, swayed and grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself, sucking in another gulp of air.

He put his glass down and went to her this time. She flinched when he cradled her elbow in his hand but he tried not to take it too personally.

"Deep breaths, sweetheart." he demanded, still harsher than he should be to coax her through a panic attack.

She seemed to focus on her breathing but her eyes were taking that hollow glassy look he knew only too well. With a sigh, he sat down and pulled her on his lap. She obediently perched on his knees, immediately pressing her face against his neck, breathing him in.

"You're in Twelve." he said, trying to curb the irritation in his voice into something less rough. "You're safe. I've got you, princess. I've got you."

"Haymitch…" she begged, slightly panicked.

"I'm here." he promised, coiling his hand around her nape, giving it a light squeeze. "I'm still mad as hell but I'm here. Not going anywhere." He made a face and then dropped a kiss on her shoulder, over her sweater. "I'm sorry I banged the counter. Didn't mean to trigger you."

"It's fine." she answered, still short of breath. "I'm fine." She wasn't fine. She was shaking. But she was also coherent enough so he would take that as a win. "I'm sorry you're unhappy about the curtains but it's my own money, not yours."

"Yours, mine… Same thing." he grumbled, squeezing her nape again. "Thought we talked about this. You're welcome to everything I have."

She snorted. "Except the curtains, it seems."

It did seem a little silly now to get so worked about curtains, as expensive as the new ones were. He tightened his hold on her. "Don't like buying stupid stuff like that. Money…"

"Money is made to be spent." she cut him off. "We do not have children. We have enough to be comfortable for the rest of our lives. Why not indulge from time to time?"

She didn't indulge from time to time. She had a way of buying everything that struck her fancy regardless of the price.

He didn't want to start shouting again though, not when she was barely starting to stop shaking so he held his tongue. It served him right for settling down with a Capitol. There were things they would never understand.

It was frustrating to have to censure himself, all the more so because he wasn't in the wrong, but he didn't want her to get worked up again.

"How about I make it all better later?" she hummed, drawing back to smile at him. It was a ghost of a smile, a forced cheerful parody of her real one.

"How about you make sure you're okay before bribing me with sex?" he retorted with a smirk of his own.

"I am okay." she promised, seriously enough. "Just a little dizzy."

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged. "Let's make some tea. When you're feeling better we can start the fight again. Might let you get your way with me even."

She laughed like he knew she would. "Oh, you will let yourself be seduced, then, will you?"

"What can I say? You've got arguments." he joked.

She snorted but rested her head on his shoulder again, pressing her palm against his chest, right over his heart, feeling his heartbeat. "I love you."

The words weren't as scary as they used to be and he propped his cheek on her head, tightening his embrace.

"Me too." he promised, still unable to actually say it.

"Even when you are furious with me?" she challenged.

"Even then." he answered, more seriously than the gibe warranted. "Always, sweetheart."

Her hand tugged on the collar of his shirt and he obliged her by leaning down to answer her kiss.

It wasn't really a hardship.

There won't be an update next week because I will be posting a 7 part Christmas story every day from 18th to 24th! So join me there maybe!