Prompt: I was going to attempt this, but you are such a better writer than me, please will you write my head feels!? I've been watching New Amsterdam and was inspired. Please can you write a story where Haymitch has to go under anaesthetic to have a tooth removed and Effie has to care for him bc hes in the capitol. Whilst he's still groggy, he tells Effie how beautiful she is and how much he wants her. Mortified but intruiged, she brings it up in a later argument and perhaps they Kiss...Or more?😉😊 x x
Heat & Bliss
"I feel loopy." Haymitch complained, opening and closing his mouth several times.
Effie rolled her eyes and forced his jaw shut before the cotton balls could slip out of his mouth – again. She had thought the dentist was ready to kill Haymitch by the end of the procedure and she hadn't been too far behind him on that front.
Now if only the elevator could hurry…
Leave it to Haymitch to neglect a toothache right up to the point the tooth needed to be taken out. He had been snapping at her for days for no good reasons – not that they really needed a reason to bicker but, still, usually there was at least a token excuse – grumbling to himself and cradling an increasingly swelling cheek in his palm every time she turned around… And yet despite her remarks, he had refused to seek treatment. Even Chaff had tried to coax him into going to the Games Clinic. But no. No. He had waited right up until the tooth had broken during dinner, forcing Effie to give up her free time to escort him down – to be certain he would go – and, once there, she had been designed as his assigned caretaker since she was responsible for him during his stay in the city.
Oh, how she loved her job some days…
She suspected the dentist had been very generous with the anesthetic and the painkillers because Haymitch should have been becoming a little more lucid by then but, there they were, in the elevator back to the penthouse and he was still talking nonsense and leaning heavily on her.
He didn't exactly smell fresh – which meant he smelt ripe – but she was too polite to say – at least until he was aware enough to understand what she was saying, namely that he needed a shower.
"If you'd told me I'd feel loopy I'd have gone sooner." he slurred and again she pushed his jaw up before he could spit out the cotton balls. "Good stuff… Good stuff…"
She pursed her lips. "Trust you to go to the dentist only for the drugs."
He chuckled as if it was the funniest thing and wrapped his arms tighter around her shoulders, turning her help into a sort of side-hug. She squeaked in alarm because it wasn't like him to be so affectionate.
Fortunately, the elevator chimed and the doors opened on the familiar corridor of the penthouse.
She steered him inside and toward his bedroom, already planning to find an Avox to keep watch while he came down from his high. She had a party to attend and she was late enough as it was.
"You know…" he muttered and, this time, when he half-coughed the cotton ball, she let him spit it out because she was tired of having to stop him from doing just that. It must have stopped bleeding by then anyway. "You're so fucking annoying for someone so short…"
"I am not short." she huffed.
The bed was in sight now and with it her freedom. She would just drop him, get an Avox and go to her own room for a quick shower and a change of clothes…
"You're short. Seen you without all the crap you always wear." he said. "The heels and wigs and shit…"
She stumbled and almost brought them both down with her. It was apparently hilarious because he started laughing and let go of her to tentatively reach forward until he managed to touch the bed. Then he crawled on top of the crumpled sheets and blankets – didn't Avoxes clean in there? it smelled like a pigsty – and curled up on his side, still watching her with that laugher making his eyes sparkle.
Damn but his grey eyes look good when there was mirth in them.
It didn't happen often enough for her to truly take notice.
"You are lying." she accused, placing her hands on her hips and watching him right back.
"You went for your cigarettes in the living-room the other night." He shrugged. "Lights were off. Was drinking in the corner."
"Lurking you mean." she interjected, her stomach churning with dread at the possibility that he had seen her mad dash from her bedroom to the living-room for her cigarettes. She had thought she was safe enough given how late it had been and she hadn't even bothered with a dressing gown. It had been the night right after their tributes had died. She hadn't been able to fall asleep.
"Didn't see me." he pointed out. "But I saw you."
He wriggled his eyebrows.
He was such a ridiculous man.
She pursed her lips tight and narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side. "And did you have a good laugh at my expense, then? A gentleman would have announced his presence, you realize, or at least keep the secret to his grave."
Haymitch seemed to be following only half of the conversation. It didn't make for a real change from when he was absolutely smashed.
"So fucking gorgeous…" he muttered "Why do you put all that crap on? So fucking gorgeous…"
That sounded so much like a compliment that it actually brought her short. "I beg your pardon?"
"Tiny and pretty and frizzy…" he said and then laughed again.
She shook her head, decided that she couldn't leave him curled up on his bed like that and, now that he had paid her a compliment, she felt bound to help so she started unlacing his shoes.
"Frizzy?" she repeated, puzzled as to what his confused brain could call frizzy about her.
"Your…" He waved at her head while she took off the first shoe and she immediately dropped it to bring both hands to her wig with a gasp. Not that he cared about her sudden absolute terror that he could have seen her without a wig – everything else she could live with but the wig? "Couldn't really tell the color in the dark… Is it more red or blond? Cause it looked red… I like red…"
"It is strawberry blond." she snapped, attacking the other shoe far too aggressively.
Given the state of the socks, she half wanted to ask him when was the last time he had bothered not only changing them but also buying ones that weren't full of holes. She put that on the list of items of clothing she needed to order for him.
"So…" The word dragged on and on as he tried to make sense of what she had said. "Red?"
She rolled her eyes. "Blond. Don't you know anything?"
"Strawberries are red." he argued.
"Well, I suppose there are copper hues." she granted through clenched teeth. "Not that it matters. I should have it dyed anyway."
"No." he protested immediately, reaching for her arm as if she was about to make a dash for the closest hairdresser right at that second. "So gorgeous…"
"You said it was frizzy." she reminded him, moving on to unbuckling his belt – and praying he wouldn't take it the wrong way.
He didn't bat an eyelash at her hands being so close to his groin, he was too busy trying to touch her wig regardless of how many times she twisted her neck this way and that to avoid his grabby fingers. "I like the curls… Pretty… Wild… You're wild. Fitting."
"Most women would be opposed to being called wild outside of certain contexts." she commented, tugging the belt free.
"You're wild." he repeated in a mumble. "Like that."
Despite herself, she felt a smile tug at her lips and she coaxed him out of his jacket. "There seems to be quite a lot of things you like about me all of a sudden."
She had been under the impression he hated everything about her – and it was as mutual as it could get. Except, of course, there were little things about him that she couldn't help but like too. He could growl and sneer and snap all he liked but she knew that at the smallest hint that a sponsor was being too insistent with her, he would be right beside her in a flash and make it clear Twelve didn't play it like that. For all their arguing and terrible fights, he made her feel safe, which was more than some other escorts could say about their victors.
"You make me hot." he confessed, apparently not at all concerned by what was coming out of his mouth. He chucked the waistcoat all by himself, leaving her standing there, dumbfounded. "When we fight, I get boners." She blinked. "Chaff says I should just fuck you and be done but I like the chase."
"There is no chase." she argued, tossing the waistcoat and the jacket on a nearby chair.
That was as far as she was prepared to undress him but she couldn't bring herself to leave right then. Not after that little bit of information he had just imparted.
He smirked. "Right… Like you don't get wet when we fight…"
She almost choked on her outrage. "How improper!"
He nestled his head on his pillow and felt around for the blankets… "Call it like I see it."
"You see it wrong." she growled, grabbing the sheets that been crumpled at the foot of the bed between two fingers – because who knew what he had done with them – and tossing them over him. "I assure you I am not interested." He lifted tired eyebrows and she glared. "I will not be until you learn to shower every day."
He studied her for a long time and she started to wonder if he was playing her, if he wasn't as high as he was pretending to be… And, right when she was thinking about confronting him about that, he opened his mouth and slipped a finger in it to try and feel the missing tooth.
She screeched and hurried to grab his wrist before he could actually probe.
"Do not do that! You will get an infection!" she rebuked.
"So what?" He chuckled. "Maybe I'll die and you'll be rid of me."
"I do not want you dead, you idiot." she snapped. "I want you to learn how to behave."
"I want you to learn how to misbehave." he retorted.
"Oh, I do not need you to teach me that, I assure you, I am quite capable of misbehaving…" she purred in a flirty voice.
He pushed himself upward a little and, scared that he would try to kiss her, she pushed him back down. He didn't offer much resistance but his pout was boyish and a little endearing.
"Vixen." he grumbled.
"If it pleases you." she granted with a grin. "Try to sleep now. I predict you will be in a mood when you wake up and you remember all these little gems of wisdom you just shared."
There was no way he could have forgotten the whole conversation, even if some of it must have been fuzzy. The anesthetic and the painkillers were strong but not that strong that it would induce amnesia.
Unless it was self-imposed amnesia.
Whichever it was, Haymitch gave no clue that he remembered any of it the next day but she knew he did. He was defensive and on his guard, clearly expecting her to bring it up at any moment, picking ridiculous fights only to have the excuse to storm out of the room, unable to look her in the eyes, at one point she even caught him blushing…
It amused her immensely.
She let it rest for a few days, lured him into a false sense of security, let him believe she would be too noble to use it against him when, in truth, she was just waiting for the right moment…
And the right moment came when he chose to pick a fight over a party he didn't want to go to even though he knew very well victors' presence was mandatory. She hated it when he was being difficult on purpose, dragging his feet and making her job that much harder just because he was miserable and he wanted everyone else to be miserable too. He didn't want to go to the party, he didn't like the outfit she had picked up for him, he didn't like the color of the back-up suit she had brought exactly because she knew he would object to her first choice…
Naturally, the fight expanded and before ten minutes had passed they were shouting in each other's face. He was clutching a glass full of half-melted ice and little liquor and she was standing so very close to him it wouldn't have been considered proper by any account. Her fingers were twitching with the urge to slap him for his mean comments about how degenerate she and her friends were.
He was in the middle of a rant about Capitols and their stupid parties – and clearly getting off the verbal abuse directed at her fellow citizens – when she took another step, effectively making him falter in the middle of his speech. Her breasts were brushing his heaving chest and he licked his lips, his eyes just that shade of darker…
She sneered a mocking sneer. "Are you enjoying yourself? Is it what you find so hot?"
His face immediately closed off and he sneered right back. "Shut up."
She snorted, tilting her head to the side a little, exposing her neck… "Perhaps you should make me."
She wasn't sure what she was playing at. She wanted to get the upper hand. That seemed like a good way to get it.
She half expected him to jump on her at that semi-invite but his fingers tightened around the glass and he didn't move, barely glanced at her lips… "Walk away, Trinket."
It sounded like a warning and she didn't like warnings. She didn't get warned off. She issued the warnings.
"Do you know what I think?" she hummed. "I think I would be too much for you and you would not be able to handle me. And I think you know that too."
"I think you're a fucking idiotic goose." he spat.
Her lips stretched into a slow, slow grin and she batted her eyelashes twice in a parody of innocence that was more mockery than enticement. "And yet you are so hard for me I can feel you."
She was standing close enough that his pants were straining against her stomach.
"Walk away." he repeated, his voice rough, less bitter and sarcastic than usual.
"What if I don't?" she challenged.
He closed his eyes, took a deep steadying breath… She stepped even closer, pressing herself against his front, stealing the control from him before he could get it back. He groaned, a crude sound that came from the very back of his throat… She suddenly had the urge to bite his Adam's apple, to see if she could make him do that sound again…
It startled her, that urge.
She was playing him. She had thought she was playing him. Mocking him. Teasing him. But now… Now that she was so close and he actually smelt like soap and liquor and just enough him to be appealing… She felt her mouth watering and her fingers twitching with the need to touch…
She was losing at her own game and she didn't like that.
She deflated a little…
"Haymitch." She was about to tell him they should call it quit and forget the whole thing, get him ready for that party and leave the penthouse and this tension behind when he opened his eyes again and the rest of her sentence flew right out of her head.
"You are a pain in my ass." he growled. "And I hate you."
She narrowed her eyes because it wasn't quite what she had been expecting. "I actually loathe the very sight of you but…"
His mouth crashed on hers. It was hard, demanding and lacked everything in finesse.
She wanted to push him away, maybe even slap him a little, but she found herself tugging him closer instead, kissing back just as aggressively…
When he pushed her toward the bay window, she followed, and when he tugged her dress up, she held it for him while he undid his pants… There wasn't any skills to what happened next, barely enough presence of mind to remember the need for a condom. He bit and she scratched. Clothes didn't fly off because they simply got them out of the way as much as possible.
It was madness.
They clashed together and it was a wreck of perfect heat and bliss.
It was over before it really began and she remained panting against the bay windows long after he had stormed away, wondering a little what had happened, wondering if she had fantasized the whole thing...
Wondering which one was the real Haymitch… The one who told her she was gorgeous and wild and he liked her or the one who professed to hate her…