Prompt: hello! could you write something during the games in the period where they're fairly established between themselves and effie has a moment of realising that pretty much all of her partners friends hate her guts? Maybe she tries to do something about it? idk :)

What To Do When Your Boyfriend's Friends Hate You

Effie could feel Haymitch's eyes on her, studying her face. She didn't stop smiling, kept her features into that mindlessly happy expression she was famous for… She didn't let the escort mask slip. Not in the car. Not in the elevator. Not even when he pinned her against the wall right inside the penthouse's corridor, his mouth sucking on the tender skin beneath her ear.

He was buzzed but not drunk enough that she could justifiably push him away without explanation.

Well… She could always say she wasn't feeling like sex that night and she knew he wouldn't insist because when she said no in a certain tone, he never pressed – that was one of the little things that proved to her Haymitch was a better man than he believed himself to be.

"Come on, don't be sad…" he coaxed, pressing warm kisses down her throat, one his hands already grabbing her ass, the other working its way up to her breast. "What do you care?"

Of course.

She should have known better to think he would be fooled by her attitude.

There were very few people who could see beneath her masks but Haymitch… She wasn't sure it was a blessing or a curse that he knew her that well, that he could tell when she was pretending.

"I do not care." she lied. But not well. Not well enough anyway.

He sighed against the hollow of her throat and didn't look particularly surprised when she did end up shoving him back, almost as if he was expecting it, as if she was being difficult on purpose. She sneaked past him and toward the living-room, heading straight for the liquor cart.

She moved a few bottles, not needing to glance behind her to know Haymitch was making his approach. He was strutting like a tom cat, like always when he wanted sex and knew he would have to work for it. Men and their posturing…

He paused for a second when he saw her grab the bottle of vodka though. Probably because he knew she only drank vodka when she was truly upset. Tequila was her poison of choice on any other occasion but if she really truly was upset, she would always navigate toward the vodka.

"Sweetheart, it's nothing Chaff hasn't said a thousand times…" he pointed out hesitantly.

And it wasn't.

Actually, it was all business as usual.

The Seventy-third Hunger Games had started with her reaping two children who had no hope of winning anything and had died quickly and painfully; she and Haymitch had fucked their way through the whole process like they always did, dancing on the line between sex as pain relief and feelings that he wouldn't admit to; they had gone to countless parties even though they were out because the monster had to be fed… And Chaff, Johanna and, in lesser degrees, Seeder and Finnick had spent the whole night making her the butt of their jokes, making fun of her strange relationship with Haymitch… When Seeder and Finnick had left to catch sponsors, Chaff and Jo had turned mean like they always did and Haymitch had barely said a word to defend her, only growling an 'easy' or 'careful' when they were aiming below the belt – literally in Chaff's case.

It had been almost nine years of this torrid secret affair and Effie was very much over the thrill of secrecy. She understood why it had to be kept low key – she understood the dangers of what a public relationship with him would entail vividly – but she also thought she understood the real reason why Haymitch had always lied when his best friend had confronted him about something everyone knew to be an open secret.

Even Seneca knew about what was going on between them. He had tactfully alluded to it several times, always to advise her to end it, and while she had always denied anything more than just recreational sex, the affair was, at least, acknowledged.

Chaff was Haymitch's best friend. She suspected the only reason Haymitch hadn't stopped playing the denying game with him before was because Chaff truly hated her.

All his friends hated her.

Not Finnick, perhaps, but Finnick had fallen in love with her at fourteen and it was hard to get over that sort of crush. She treated him like a younger brother and he had some fondness for her but she probably was not his favorite person. She was an escort after all. Not a person, not a woman who might have been involved with their friend for eight years, but the enemy.

Nothing had been said that night that hadn't been said a thousand times before. They had played variations of that scene countless times over the years. They had all been sitting together, Effie gravitating around Haymitch instead of mingling with her own friends because… Well, because she hadn't felt like pretending to be happy and beaming all night, she had wanted the quiet comfort of sitting next to him, of his possessive hand sometimes drifting to her thigh when he forgot to keep himself in check… She had wanted to spend time with him outside of one of their beds – or the couch, or the rug, or the dinner table or any other flat surface… It had started with side-comments, some gibes directed at Haymitch about his lovesick puppy escort that the victor had deflected like he always did… With alcohol, Chaff and Jo had become more incisive and, once Finnick had left, it had become ugly.

She didn't know what Chaff's deal was because he hadn't been like that when they had met. He had always had a particular sense of humor and he had always taunted her, his hand had also always had a tendency to wander, but it hadn't been like that… Nowadays being around Chaff was more toxic than being locked in a room with a drunk Haymitch – and a drunk Haymitch could be mean.

She had borne it all, giving back as good as she got, making taunts and gibes of her own, until she simply couldn't take it anymore and had left Haymitch to the tender mercy of his friends, intending to go back to the Center, pleading a headache if any questions were raised.

Nobody asked questions because nobody cared what Twelve's escort was up to though.

Haymitch had caught up with her at the cloakroom like he always tended to do when she made a hurry exit – and it was for the best because the tickets for her purse and wrap were in his pocket.

Yes, business as usual.

But she was getting tired of it.

She downed her shot of vodka and immediately poured herself another without a word.

Haymitch watched her for a second and then reached for the bottle of whiskey, dropping two ice cubes in a glass before pouring the amber liquid over them. "I don't get it."

"I know." It was all she could think to say. It took effort to force a smile on her lips, to make it reach her eyes. "No matter. I will feel better tomorrow." She downed her second glass. "I am going to take a bath and then go to bed."

"Alone?"

She almost didn't catch the question because he muttered it in his glass. He watched her over the rim, loosening his tie with his free hand…

He looked good, that was the thing. And she knew the hand that was lazily working at getting of the tie around his neck would do a good job at making her feel better.

But that too fell into a pattern she wasn't keen on following that night.

"I am not in the mood for sex." she replied.

His eyes remained on her, attentive and, perhaps, a little worried. She was probably imagining that last part. Wishful thinking. They both knew she would cave to him eventually, if not that night then the next, he couldn't be worried about her putting an end to their arrangement because they were both aware – at least she supposed he was aware – she was the desperate one there.

"That's a first." he commented, with a touch of humor.

She knew he didn't mean it in a bad way, that it was just a joke – and not an inaccurate one at that – but Johanna's taunts were still ringing in her ears.

"Yes." she sneered. "Why don't you call me a slut too? Your friends do. It is only fair."

She stormed off before he could react, before he could glimpse the shine of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away easily enough anyway.

She was aware he was following her, his footsteps were heavy and familiar. She didn't even bother slamming the bedroom door behind her because he would just have opened it and screamed at her in self righteous fury and they would have ended up having hot angry sex. Another pattern.

"I am tired and I have a headache." she hissed without turning back before he could start the well-rehearsed fight.

"No you don't." he scoffed. "You're upset."

He said the last word quietly, as if he didn't quite know how to deal with that. He'd seen her upset before, of course. She had been working with him for eleven years now. Of course, he had seen her upset before. But he never knew how to handle it.

When she was just being overdramatic, he laughed it off, sometimes he sexed it better… When he sensed she was truly bothered by something however, when something really made her sad…

She had this theory that it reminded him she was a human being under the make-up and he never liked remembering that.

"Please, can we leave it here?" She sighed, already unzipping her dress. She didn't even care that the haute couture dress pooled on the floor. She started working on the lacing of her corset, always a struggle. "Tomorrow will be a brand new day and I will be back to my more cheerful self."

His hands pushed hers away and he awkwardly tugged at the knots, grumbling under his breath about corsets being a pain and how she didn't need them anyway.

"Never called you a slut." he mumbled when the corset was threatening to hang loose. He paused and then shrugged. "Well… Guess I did sometimes but you never seemed to mind. You never said anything. Seemed to turn you on."

"That was different." she argued, tiredly. "That was a game. And I am not upset about the charming moniker you friend chose to call me. I do not care what they think."

When he finished untying the corset, she tossed it on the bed, slipped her thong off and headed toward the bathroom, feeling his eyes on her. They were hungry, his eyes, but not particularly avid at that moment – because it had been eight years and they could have a naked conversation without it being clouded by desire, they were at that point, and yet his friends still didn't know and they still hated her.

"Any other night, you don't." he commented, following her. "Tonight, seems like you do. What is it Chaff said that upset you so much?" He was frowning even as he removed his cufflinks, placing them on the side of her bathroom sink like it was an appropriate spot. "Honestly, sweetheart, I don't remember…"

She watched him unbutton his waistcoat and then slip it off, pursing her lips. She decided not to comment on his decision to get naked too and turned the water on in the huge angle tub. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub and let her hand trail on the various glass bottles full of different bath salts before selecting purple ones. The small squares fizzled in the water, turning it a nice shade of lavender.

When she glanced back at him, he was bare-chested and getting rid of his socks.

"I won't have sex with you tonight." she warned again.

"Got it the first time." he grumbled. "But I wanna get to the bottom of this so… Bath."

"There is no great mystery for you to uncover." she snapped. He didn't say anything and, predictably, she only managed to keep her vindictive silence for less than a minute. "And it is not just Chaff. It is… It is the whole thing."

He tossed his pants and underwear on the pile of discarded clothes and crossed the distance to the bathtub, sitting on the edge next to her. "What thing?"

He was getting impatient, she could hear it in his voice. She didn't want to look at him though, she didn't want to risk him seeing her eyes were too bright once more, so she kept staring at the purple water.

"Don't you ever wonder where we are going?" she asked, her voice lowering to a tired whisper.

"Right now, we're going in the tub." Haymitch deadpanned. "After that, I'm still hoping we're going to bed."

There was an implicit warning in the way he drew out his answer, his accent becoming rougher, thicker… She knew better than talk about that sort of things anywhere but on the roof – and even on the roof she hardly ever alluded to anything like that. Bugs might pick up something that could be used against them. She was tired of that too.

It was exhausting to live like that, to act like they were always on stage.

"I said no sex." she insisted.

He snorted. "Yeah, well… I'm an optimistic guy."

She snorted too because optimism really was not one of his qualities.

His hand cupped her chin with more gentleness than he usually bothered to show and tilted her head toward him so their eyes could meet. She only held his gaze for a second before looking away. Some tension left his shoulders and he ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

"You know what I think? You worked too much and now you're all tense." he declared. "You need some fun."

"Let me guess?" she mocked. "Would sex be fun?"

"It sure would." He smirked. "But I'm a nice guy so I'm gonna let you cuddle first."

"Cuddle?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows. "How unprecedented of you."

His hand trailed down her jaw, down her throat and then he stood up. She tracked his movement as he reached for the pins in her wig. "Can take care of a woman once in a while, you know… Ain't entirely clueless."

She hummed, slightly dubious about that, but let him free her of the pink wig on her head. Once she had closed the tap, he also undid the bun her hair was trapped in, running his fingers in the curls until they looked a little less crumpled.

As always, she felt slightly self-conscious at being exposed like that in front of him but, also as always, his smirked turned into something genuinely adoring when he combed her hair.

"Gorgeous." he muttered and she relaxed, slipping one leg and then the other in the water.

The bath was almost too hot and she remained sitting on the edge for a while, facing the blue tiles of the wall, with him standing behind her petting her hair.

It was close to heaven.

And probably the only reason she ended up spilling what was bothering her.

"Your friends hate me."

He froze, one hand falling to her shoulder, the other one still tangled in her hair…

He didn't even try to deny it though.

"Finnick would marry you on the spot." he scowled.

"As a joke." she countered. "He is a flirt."

"A flirt who really likes you." he argued.

"Perhaps." She sighed and lowered herself in the water, escaping his hands.

The tub was large enough that they could easily have fit another person in there with them and the water was almost too hot but Haymitch still pulled her between his legs so she could rest her back against his chest.

He pressed a tentative kiss on her shoulder. "What's going on?"

The question was serious and a little apprehensive.

She rested her head against his shoulder, angling it so her forehead was pressed against the side of his neck. "I do not know. We have been doing this dance for so long… They could at least pretend to like me out of respect for you…" She was getting worked up again and she didn't leave him time to answer that before going on. "And if your best friends do not like me then… Why would you?"

"Come on…" he joked after a beat too long. "Everyone knows I don't like you." She knew he was mostly teasing but she still flinched. His arms immediately wrapped around her and he nuzzled her neck. "I don't get where this is coming from, princess… You've never cared before."

"We have been doing this dance for so long…" she repeated softly.

She would warrant they knew each other better than anyone else at that point. She knew how to interpret the slightest change in behavior, the smallest twitch of his finger… She knew all there was to know about him. And he knew her too. She had let him get to know her like she had never allowed anyone else to before and…

"So what?" he challenged. "You're bored or something?"

"Of course not." she huffed "I just…"

She let that sentence trail not quite sure how she wanted to finish it.

"Chaff's an ass." he murmured in her neck, close to her ear. He sucked her earlobe in his mouth, diamond stud and all, and then pressed a kiss on her cheek. "I don't know what's up with him. He says he's fine." He dropped another open mouth kiss on her neck, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her stomach. "You ask me, I think… I think he's jealous 'cause…" He shrugged. "I'm not sure he hates you. He liked you just fine in the beginning. It's…" He sighed. "It's the idea of you 'cause… He's lonely. And I'm… Well, I've got you, don't I?"

She had a good view of his neck and she didn't think he was flushed because the water was warm. She kissed the tanned skin readily available just to soothe him. He was all ruffled feathers at the moment.

"You certainly do." she hummed.

"There you have it, then." He scowled. "Can we stop talking about stuff that makes me want to hit the bottle hard now?"

She chuckled and entwined their fingers. "What about Johanna? Is she jealous too?"

"Nah, she hates you." he offered honestly.

"You do realize she would not say no if you propositioned her?" she asked, just to clarify something that had been bothering her for a while.

"She's a kid, Effie." he snapped.

"Debatable." she answered.

"Anyone half my age is a kid to me." he sneered. "I like women."

She kissed his neck again just to secret her smile against his skin. "Me too."

He snorted, letting his hand trail down her stomach and between her legs. His fingers were teasing and she instinctively spread her thighs, leaning against his chest more heavily…

"Too bad you don't want to fuck tonight…" he taunted, taking his hand off her. "How's that headache?"

"Getting better by the second." she deadpanned.

He traced infinity symbols on her lower belly. "Told you a little cuddling would help."

He sounded far too smug.

"Who would have guessed…" she teased. "Haymitch Abernathy became an expert in handling upset women…"

"Don't know about other women…" he snorted in her hair. "But you, I know how to handle. Every sense of the term."

It was such a bad line that she couldn't help but chuckle. "Would you like to handle me now?"

"I'd like you to come on my fingers, yeah…" he answered casually, letting his hand drift south again. "Then maybe I'll let you come on something else…"

She grinned. "Such a charmer…"

"I know, right?" he teased. "You're so lucky…"

She laughed. "I really am."

But she wasn't really joking.

I hoped you liked it! Let me know!

Also, I will start publishing the next episode of Katniss the Vampire Slayer this Sunday! Don't miss it!