23.

"We could push through." Effie suggested, peeking the sky through the windshield.

The sky was turning darker and darker by the minute. It would be night before too long.

"I don't want to risk it." Haymitch replied. "Take right. There's a suburb two streets away. Gale and Johanna took shelter there last time."

The raid had taken longer than they had expected but it was the norm those days. They had been camping at the Capitol for about a month and a half and Haymitch wasn't sure his decision to stay and wait out the worst of winter had been so clever after all. Tensions were rising a notch with each new day. He felt as if they were sitting on gunpowder and it was bound to explode.

He hadn't thought twice about it when the time for a new raid had come, he had simply stated he would take Effie and that would be it. Since Finnick's death, Johanna had become insufferable, Katniss was acting out in every possible way, Gale was angry with the world, Peeta was slowly learning how to use the prosthetic leg they had found him and spending the remaining time either locked in his room with Katniss after one of her temper tantrum or drawing, Prim was getting quite rebellious too although she was diligent about taking care of Annie who was spacing out more and more… The rebels were a daily pain in his ass and they all seemed to wait for him to take decisions only to criticize and argue the point until they were hoarse. He couldn't remember a night in the past three weeks when he hadn't been asleep before his head even touched his pillow.

Effie was doing her best to second him : she was quite good at keeping everyone busy with mindless chores and although she was constantly annoying him too with pointless questions and arguments he had already thought of, this was, at least, normal for them. Taking her to the raid had seemed a good idea if only in the sense that it gave them some much needed alone time.

"The children will be worried." She sighed but she still complied with his wishes and turned right.

"You realize they aren't ours, right?" he retorted. He refused to get worked up over the children getting worried. Let them get worried, he thought, that might make them stop arguing for more than two minutes.

"Does it make a difference at this point?" she joked, tousling her blond hair with the hand that wasn't steering the wheel.

He badly wanted to remind her to watch the road and not her reflection in the mirror but he knew – from multiple experiences – that it would only lead to a long rant about how he should trust her driving skills and in which she would probably call him a misogynistic man at least twice.

"Choose a house." he told her instead, waving at the white picket fences bordering the street. He wasn't very worried about undead things coming after them. Zombie activity had vastly decreased after winter had kicked in. Those that hadn't left were slowed down by the cold and the small coat of snow on the ground made them less dangerous. Mutts weren't so easily dispatched but they weren't as common as before either.

"Less than a year together and you already want us to look at houses…" Effie laughed. "Why, careful, Haymitch, or I will start to think we are serious."

He rolled his eyes. "Since we already have eight children, houses are the least of my worries."

"You're counting Johanna and Annie?" she inquired, neatly parking the truck in front of a white house with a pink mailbox. Of course, you could trust Effie to choose the pink one.

"Lately? Yeah." he snorted. "I almost wish Gale would make a move on Jo. It would give them something to do."

"Haymitch!" she scowled. "No. I forbid it. Don't encourage them."

He didn't make any promise before climbing out of the car. At that point, he was desperate enough to accept anything that would put some balance back into their group. Finnick's absence was keenly felt every day, he had possessed a rare gift for bringing levity in every situation. It didn't seem very likely that Gale was interested in Johanna though; nowadays, he was more busy listening to Coin's whispers about the rebellion and what a great purpose being a soldier was.

One of the advantages of teaming with Effie certainly was that he didn't need to tell her anything. They had been doing this long enough that they both knew the drill. He handed her the cutlass and another gun wordlessly, pulling out his knife and making sure his own gun was loaded. The front door was closed but it wasn't locked, they moved silently down the halls, clearing every room one after the others. There were four downstairs : a living-room, a dining-room, a bathroom and the kitchen.

It was a very posh house, he realized it at once. The grand piano in the living-room was a dead giveaway. Effie made a beeline for it as soon as they were sure there were no zombies hiding in the room. She lifted the lead and let her fingers run across the keys…

"You play?" he asked.

A small smile graced her lips and she closed the lead again before facing him. "Of course. I play piano, I ride horses, I stitch and embroider, I learned ballet, I've won the beauty queen crown more times than I can count and I can shoot a gun." She seemed amused when she passed by him to move to the kitchen. "I am a proper lady, Haymitch."

"I don't know if proper is the right word, sweetheart. I can remember you doing a lot of improper things with me." he taunted.

The kitchen was huge and the cupboards were stocked.

"Chocolate chips cookies!" she shrieked in utter happiness. She reaped the wrapping open and took a big bite as if she was afraid a zombie would come and crash her own private party. She actually moaned around a mouthful and Haymitch was very tempted to push her against the counter. He was sure a chocolate cookie kiss would taste deliciously. He was also very sure it wouldn't stop at a kiss.

Fortunately for them, he had enough common sense not to listen to his lusty brain.

Sometimes.

"Come on, Princess, you will binge on sugar later." he mocked. "Let's clear the first floor first."

She didn't even try to look ashamed when she placed the cookies on the central unit. She even glanced back with longing.

The first floor was just as deserted as the ground floor. There were no signs of fighting or any attempts at escaping. It was likely whoever lived there never made it back to the house after zombies took over. There were three bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs. The guestrooms weren't very interesting but he thought Effie was going to have a stroke when she saw the main one. Obviously, the woman who had lived there before shared Effie's tastes in clothes.

Before Haymitch had even time to blink, she had shed the coat he had given her and was lost in the walk-in closet, laughing so hard he was sure she had snapped.

"What's so funny?" he asked, leaning against the closet's doorframe.

Effie was reverently touching dress after dress. When she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes. "I haven't seen so many beautiful things in months."

"And that makes you cry?" he frowned, always uneasy with her recurrent outbursts of emotion.

"Happy tears." she whispered. She selected a red dress and walked to the big mirror that took up an entire wall. She held the gown in front of her and tilted her head as if she was lost in long dead memories. "Let's have a date, Haymitch."

He thought he had heard her wrong. "What?"

"A date." she repeated uncertainly, turning around to face him again. "The house is safe, it's just you and me… Let's have a date."

"I don't date." he shrugged.

A flicker of annoyance flashed on her face. "I want to dress up and have a nice dinner with you, toppled with sex. Do you realize how long it's been since we last had sex, Haymitch?"

"Don't be ridiculous…" he chuckled. "We did it…" And, embarrassingly enough, his mind drew a blank. "Well, you were having your… you know." He felt the tip of his ears burn and he was sure there was a nice blush on his face. He wasn't accustomed to discuss that kind of things, he never had a reason to in his life but now that he was more or less living with Effie he had grown used to moodiness, cramps and general bitching for a few days each month. He had also learned to never ever mention it upon threat of impending death.

"It was four days, three weeks ago." she snapped. "We haven't had sex since Finnick's death."

"No, that's not right." he huffed. "How about last week? In the break room…"

"Johanna came in and never walked out." Effie cut him off. "Then it was Peeta who knocked in the middle of the night before you could so much as take off your clothes. Don't mention Katniss who decided to tag along on the last raid or Coin and Plutarch who always seem to be glued to your side!"

Her voice had risen somewhere in her rant and he was left speechless. He knew he had been a bit busy but…

"We don't need a date to have sex." was the sole argument that came to his mind. "There's a convenient bed in the next room, sweetheart."

It was the wrong thing to say, he guessed it at once. Her mouth was pinched in a thin displeased line and she tilted her head on the side.

"It has been weeks since I wore something without blood stains on it and months since I last wore a dress. I want to feel pretty. I want to feel like me." she snapped. "If you don't want to have dinner with me, fine. Then… Go away." And just like that she turned her back on him and started inspecting the clothes, all the while muttering about how "romance was more dead than a zombie."

"Fine." he sighed. "Dress up. A date. Whatever."

She didn't even try to look surprised at his change of heart. It was as if she had known all along he would end up humoring her.

"Since I don't have the smallest illusion you will consent to look for a nicer shirt, you will find candles and prepare dinner." she ordered, focused on the dresses.

"Don't push it." he warned her.

"I will push it however I please, dear." she retorted coldly. "You've been ignoring me for weeks and you didn't even care."

"I didn't ignore you." he grumbled, walking closer to her and grabbing her arm so she would face him. "I didn't pay attention."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Which is actually worse, thank you very much."

He rolled his eyes and kissed her. It was the only efficient way to shut her up.

"You're a pain, sweetheart." he mumbled against her lips.

"Candles." she reminded him with a triumphant smile, pushing him away a little.

He stole another kiss and, even if it was barely more than a peck, he still counted it as a little victory. "Still a pain."

It was easier to let her have her way though so he did search for candles in the kitchen drawers, making sure the curtains were closed so no potential zombie would be attracted by the glow. Since it was getting dark, he supposed candles were needed – that was how he rationalized it because he wasn't one for romance and he didn't have any interest in becoming romantic. As for dinner… He didn't know what date dinners looked like and he didn't care enough to find out, he simply grabbed two cans of tuna, dropped their contents in two bowls and grabbed packets of cookies for dessert.

By the time everything was on the dinner table, Effie was still upstairs playing with her clothes so he started rummaging through the cupboards for anything they could take with them. Food wasn't a problem as such for now, the raids were more about getting gas, but they never passed out on opportunities to find more supplies. He added every sweets he found on the growing pile; they were luxuries nowadays, they ate to survive not for pleasure.

He was actively scheming on the best way to bribe some peace back in the Capitol with sweets – Johanna was quite partial to chocolate and he was sure he could get the teenagers back under control through cakes – when he opened the wrong cupboard. Or perhaps it was the right one, it was a matter of point of view.

He stared hard at the stack of alcohol in what was probably the liquor cabinet. Six or seven bottles at the very least. Good ones too.

His hands started to shake, his mouth felt parched suddenly… He reached for the whiskey bottle as in a daze: without conscious thought or clear motive. Unscrewing felt only natural. The smell was almost enough to intoxicate him… He could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue already…

He didn't bring the bottle to his lips.

He wasn't quite sure why he didn't because he had every reason to but… it didn't feel right somehow.

And yet the thirst was there, the unbearable craving to just gulp the liquor down until everything faded – no more crushing sense of responsibility, no more guilt, no more memories…

"Are you going to drink that?"

He would forever deny having jumped. He startled – badly. He glanced at Effie in irritation only to take a second peek. She had found a golden dress just as ridiculous as the one she had been wearing when he first met her, she had stolen jewels too, she was wearing more make-up that he was used to as well as black stilettos laced all the way to her mid-calf and her hair was twisted in a complicated side bun. Obviously, she had enjoyed herself, she looked every bit the model she used to be before the world went to hell.

She was simply stunning.

"No." He placed the bottle back in the cupboard and closed the door. It was surprisingly easy. It was even easier to walk closer to Effie and pin her against the kitchen counter before kissing her senseless. "Nice dress, sweetheart, not yours though. Best take it off, stealing isn't very lady-like."

She giggled when his mouth left hers for her jaw and trailed to the spot below her ear. The long silver earring felt cold against his nose but he didn't mind it as much as the heavy perfume she had sprayed herself with.

"This is not how it works, Haymitch." she chided him, tangling her fingers in his hair and bringing his lips to hers. She deepened the kiss until the need for air made him see stars. "Dinner first. Seduce me."

"That's what I'm trying to do." he grumbled, out of breath and annoyed by the way she kept replacing his hands on her waist each time they wandered higher or lower than her hips.

"Romance me." she clarified with a smug smile.

"You're being very difficult." he grumbled.

"Isn't that the reason why you love me?" she grinned with so much cheek he forgot to frown at her choice of words. Her smiled faltered a bit when he didn't answer and she pecked his mouth and then pushed him back a little, so she could twirl slowly in front of him. The dress sparkled in the candlelight. "How do I look?"

She looked beautiful but, to be fair, she always looked beautiful to him even when she was covered in zombie parts.

"Ridiculous, sweetheart." he lied. "As usual."

She huffed but didn't reply and wandered into the dining room. He followed – what else could he do?

"Tuna." she sighed when she saw the table. "In bowls. Couldn't you try to find plates? Or something that we haven't been eating two times a day all week?"

She muttered the last part but he heard it anyway. He rolled his eyes. "I bet some people out there would literally kill for tuna right now, Princess. It's food. Eat it or starve."

She glared but pointedly took a seat and grabbed her fork. He did the same and started eating without waiting for her to stop looking at her share of tuna with a sullen look. She toyed with her fork, pushing pieces of fish left and right.

"I don't think it's very proper to play with your food." he taunted. He loved it when he could lecture her on propriety.

Her cheeks colored slightly and she finally brought the fork to her lips without another word. Silence stretched for the longest time and, for once, it didn't sit well with Haymitch. His mind kept wandering back to all the liquor that was waiting a few feet away.

"Come on, Effie." he insisted, nudging her calf with his foot. "If you eat everything, you get a chocolate cookie." She smiled but it was a pale copy of her usual bright grins. "What's wrong?"

She turned her fork this way and that for a few seconds longer and then looked up at him. Her eyes looked bright in the candlelight. "Do you have a dislike for dates in general or are you just not interested in dating me?"

"Are we back on the dating thing?" he sighed, not even trying to hide his irritation. "You wanted a date, I gave you a…"

"I am not talking about tonight." she cut him off. "You are terribly off-putting. I don't know what we are. I've been meaning to ask you for some time now but there never seems to be a right time for it. I suspect there never will be."

"What are you prattling about now?" He pushed his bowl away and grabbed a handful of cookies.

"Us." she whispered tentatively. "Are we an us, Haymitch?"

He didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about. Perhaps it was a reaction to the heavy – obviously expensive – perfume and she had gone mad.

"Well…" he snorted around a mouthful of cookies. "There's you and there's me, I would say that make an us. You tell me, you're the grammar freak."

She didn't look pleased by his answer. "Are you misunderstanding me on purpose?"

"Are you being unclear on purpose?" he shot back, munching unhappily on his cookie.

Her face hardened. "Alright, let me speak plainly then. What kind of relationship do we have? Because, it used to be strictly sexual on your side until recently. If you have lost interest in me and…"

"It has never been strictly sexual." he interrupted her before he could think better of it. "I've told you. Again and again."

"You care about me." She waved her hand to dismiss that argument. "Fine. But…"

"What do you want?" he snapped. "You want me to get on one knee and make a speech about what you mean to me? Because if that's why you wanted to dress up for, you could have saved yourself the trouble, sweetheart. I wouldn't know how to do a love declaration even if I wanted to." He closed his hand in a fist to stop the shaking. "And I don't want to. You shouldn't need me to." He lowered his voice and finally met her eyes. "I sheltered you, I protected you, I came back for you twice. I let you have my back. I trust you. You know me, Effie. You know me better than anyone else, it should tell you everything you need to know about what I feel for you."

He stood up, intending on storming out to the kitchen and the welcomed comfort of alcohol but he didn't get further than two steps away. She tugged on his arm and forced him to turn around. He was expecting an angry outburst or something equally stupid but he was physically attacked instead. Her hand locked around his neck and pulled him in a kiss that was aggressive by all standards, all teeth and tongue and so much pressure he was sure their lips would be swollen and bruised by the time it ended. It didn't stop him from kissing back.

She almost ripped his jacket from his shoulders and blindly unbuttoned his shirt, never ending the kiss. Each time they gasped for breath, she kissed right back. He didn't remain idle for long, though, he fumbled around for the zipper, nudging her back until she bumped against the table. Then the dress finally gave away and he lost all restraint. He tore his mouth away from her and dropped kisses down her throat, pushing the fabric off her body. He couldn't help but smirk when he realized she wasn't wearing a lot under that sparkly thing.

"So, were you trying to start a fight to spice up things or…" he asked, tangling his hand in her hair and tugging gently until her throat was exposed.

"Shut up, Haymitch." she warned, uncharacteristically rudely. Her fingers were quick to deal with his belt and his pants and, before he could truly understand how, she was naked with only stilettos on and he had his pants and underwear around his ankles. In the middle of an abandoned house lost in a ghost town during a zombie apocalypse. It should have been a sobering thought but for some twisted reason, it only made it more arousing.

He grabbed her under the thighs and propped her on the table so carelessly the bowls clattered and the candle fell over. Fortunately it snuffed and didn't start a fire but wax spilled everywhere.

"This is mahogany." Effie shrieked in horror in the sudden darkness.

"Who cares?" he grumbled.

"I do." she replied sternly but it turned into a moan when his mouth closed on her breast. "Alright." she panted after another few minutes of slow torture on his part. "Three weeks, Haymitch. I need you. Right now."

"But, sweetheart, you didn't say please…" he teased, nuzzling her neck.

She bit – not so gently – on his shoulder.

"Now." she ordered again, wrapping her legs around his waist so he would have no choice but to… "Wait!" she pushed him away before he could actually do anything and that made him grunt in frustration and disappointment.

"If that's a game, it's not funny." he complained.

"Condom." she whispered, out of breath. He couldn't see very well in the darkness but he was ready to bet she was flushed.

"Condom." he repeated. "Yeah. No. I don't have one. Fuck."

"Apparently not." she replied drily. Grabbing his shoulder to get back on her feet. "Check upstairs, I will look in the downstairs bathroom." She pressed a kiss to his cheek and just like that she was sauntering off in all the glory of her naked body.

"Princess." he called back when she was at the door.

"Yes?" she glanced over her shoulder curiously, not the slightest bit self-conscious. And why would she? There wasn't an inch of her skin he hadn't already kissed or caressed.

"We're keeping the shoes." he told her.

She laughed but went on her merry way for which he was glad a second later when he forgot about the pants around his ankles and almost cracked his head open on the floor. He shed the boots, pants and underwear right in the dining room, praying that no zombie or mutt would have the idea to attack them in the middle of the night.

The search of the upstairs bathroom proved futile even once all the contents of the cupboards and drawers were flung on the floor. He put some things aside – meds and practical items like unused toothbrushes – but remained empty handed as far as condoms went.

"Anything?" Effie asked, suddenly appearing on the threshold. If her grim face was to be believed, she had been as unsuccessful as he was. The idea must have floated in her mind because it was very much in his, but she didn't suggest they took the risk. Even through the fog of lust, he knew as much. They couldn't afford another pregnant woman – and he would go crazy if she ever did get pregnant. He slammed the last cabinet shut and walked back to the bedroom.

"Well." He flopped on his back on the bed. "That's disappointing." He closed his eyes and willed his still very present arousal away. He could have taken care of himself, of course, but it wouldn't be as good and since he knew she wouldn't do the same, it hardly seemed fair. He was trying to count how many zombies he had killed since the beginning of that hell when he felt the mattress dipping next to him. She straddled his thighs and that made him open his eyes.

"Sit up." she instructed quietly, tracing a line of kisses from his heart to his lower stomach.

It took all he had to reach for her shoulder instead of letting her do what another part of him really wanted her to do.

"Don't, sweetheart." he said. "You don't enjoy doing this."

"You just told me you love me." she scowled. "We're having sex."

"Pretty sure I didn't actually say that, sweetheart." he grumbled. Although, perhaps, now she would stop pestering him about feelings.

"Besides, the problem isn't that I don't enjoy this but that I would enjoy it more if we could shower regularly." she offered with a shrug. She pressed another kiss to his stomach. "Let me do this for you. I want to."

"I'm not going to reject you twice." he warned her in case that was a stupid test of some sort.

"Good. Don't reject me at all." she grinned. "Now, sit up."

He probably should have been ashamed of the way he scrambled up against the pillows like an eager puppy but he didn't have time to linger on the thought because then the angle was just right and her mouth was on him, so wet and perfect and his mind was simply overcome by pure bliss.

He felt like his whole body was made of jelly by the time she was finished with him.

She laid down next to him and did a poor job at hiding her giggles. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah." he snorted. "You bet." He rolled on his side and kissed her shoulder. "You turn, sweetheart."

"I was promised chocolate cookies." she reminded him.

"You sure you want the cookies?" he teased, kissing her neck and letting his hands wander everywhere she liked best. "You could have me instead."

"I want both." she whimpered. He couldn't help but smirk at the way she wriggled and moaned under his fingers. He liked watching her and if that made him a pervert then he would gladly be called so.

"Still want the cookies?" he mocked afterwards while she was climbing down from her climax.

"Yes." she hummed, snuggling up against him.

She looked so gorgeous with her sweaty skin and her dark blond hair spread on the pillow, she could have asked him the moon and, at that moment, he would probably have found a way to give it to her.

"No, stay. I will go." she said when he started to get up. He rolled his eyes and told her he needed to get his clothes and gun back anyway.

They had been reckless, he mused, as he got dressed. He grabbed the cookies they had never gotten around to eat and went back to the kitchen to grab some of the other sweets – too bad for the kids but they should have volunteered to go to the raid instead of sulking.

His feet took him back to the liquor cabinet.

He didn't want to get drunk, not wasted anyway but maybe a little buzzed? A few mouthfuls should be enough for that…

Except it wouldn't stop at a few mouthfuls. It never did.

He was doing well recently with the lack of alcohol. Sometimes, he even forgot to yearn for some. He was so exhausted the nightmares didn't have quite the same hold that they used to. He didn't need alcohol, he was functioning. As strange as it was, he felt better than he had in years. He was useful, he had a purpose… And he had people to take care of, as terrifying as it was.

He turned around.

She was so sensitive to the cold that he wasn't surprised to find Effie dressed again in jeans and a sweater. She was sitting with her back to the headboard, her chin on her knees. She watched him like a hawk when he dropped his stock of sweets on the bed and he suddenly understood why she had been so keen on going for the cookies herself.

"I didn't drink, you can stop worrying." he said, laying back on the bed. She relaxed at once and cuddled against him with obvious relief. She kissed his shoulder, his cheek and then his mouth. He thought she would start crying if he let her dwell too much so he grumbled "Let's eat those cookies."

She didn't seem interested in that though. She stayed right where she was, snuggled against his side, her head on his shoulder, an arm wrapped around his stomach.

"It was… hard the last time." she whispered. "I thought I was going to lose you. I know you don't remember but I can't go through that again, Haymitch."

"I remember." he replied flatly. It wasn't a lie, not really. His memory of the days spent in withdrawal were blurry but there was one single permanent feature to them and that was Effie. "You took care of me. 'Never said thank you, did I?"

"You never do." she sighed.

He held her closer and buried his nose in her hair.

Maybe he should thank her more often, he mused.