For Lexi via GGE.

"No food leaves the cafeteria."

Haymitch doesn't shrink at the voice. He's made of tougher stuff. He keeps his feet planted firmly, his shoulders squared, ready for a fight. God knows he's been restless here, and this grunt could give him a reason to make things exciting. "You really gonna use your weapon on me?" he challenges with a smirk. "You've got bigger fish to fry, son, and I'm not someone you want as an enemy."

"President Coin-"

"You tell Coin, if you want," he says, his voice more confident than he feels.

Truth be told, he knows that Coin has little use for him now. He's done his duty. He's gotten Katniss to District Thirteen. She could do away with him and not lose a bit of sleep over it. At least, not until she realizes that Katniss doesn't take kindly to people killing those that she cares about.

Haymitch swallows. God, he could use a drink right about now. "You tell Coin," he repeats. "I'll deal with her if I have to. But you see, where I come from, we care about one another. We don't see everyone as a potential soldier. Now, kindly get out of my way before I show you a few tricks I learned during the Games."

The grunt hesitates, no doubt trying to find something else to say, some way to save face. Coming up empty, he nods with a scowl and rushes off, no doubt to notify Coin that Haymitch is making life difficult again.

"To hell with it," Haymitch grumbles under his breath before hurting away. He has more important things to worry about.

…

"Out! I don't want you to see me like this!" Effie shrieks, turning, but not before Haymitch can catch a glimpse of her face.

Long gone is the makeup. The wigs and elaborate dresses are nothing more than memories now. Haymitch is happy about that. Effie has always been too pretty to be another Capitol clone.

"You'd rather starve than let me know what you look like without all that junk on your face?" he asks dryly.

"This place is a disaster! I miss my home. My sheets were the finest silk, you know," she says in despair.

Haymitch snorts. He remembers the days before his victory, shivering and filthy, huddled by the fire so that his sick mother could have his blanket. District Thirteen is luxurious compared to those dark days. "Well, this food isn't as fine as what you're used to, but it'll keep you alive," he says.

Effie keeps her back to him. He rolls his eyes. Maybe he's underestimated exactly how stubborn the woman is. "I miss my home," she says again.

He had known that it would be a shock. A life of luxury in the Capitol, traded for this. But he had assumed that Effie would adjust, that she would learn to accept District Thirteen over time. Now, he's beginning to have his doubts.

With a sigh, he sets the food aside and walks closer, standing beside her. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. "This is your home now, Effie," he says gently. "It's not what you're used to, but it's better than the alternative."

She turns, burying her face in his chest. Haymitch hesitates awkwardly, unsure what to do. He's never been good at comforting people. Closeness, emotions, they've always made him run for the bottle. Drink away everything he doesn't like or understand. But that isn't an option anymore.

He pats her back, wishing that she would stop crying. Her tears quickly soak his shirt. "Everything will be okay," he says, even though he knows that it's just an empty promise.

Effie pulls away with sniffle, nodding. Maybe his false hope is convincing enough. Maybe she just realizes how silly it is to dwell on what she can't change.

"You know, without all that stuff on your face, you're actually very pretty," he says.

Her lips quirk into an almost smile. "And without all that alcohol in your system, you're actually not very annoying," she says, and he laughs.

Effie eyes the meager meal and licks her lips. "I thought you couldn't bring anything out," she notes. "That's what Finnick told me when he came to visit."

"Good kid. But he doesn't know how reason with people like I do," Haymitch says simply.

Effie laughs. Her eyes widen at the sound, like it's the first time she's ever heard it. "You don't know how to reason," she says.

"I know how to intimidate," he laughs. "Sometime it's the same thing."

Effie sits on the bed, resting the plate in her lap. "When this is over, I'm going back to the Capitol," she says, her mouth full of food.

Haymitch smirks. He thinks of all the times she's preached her rhetoric of manners. The old Effie would be appalled by what she's doing now.

"And I'm taking everything I can find, and I'm redecorating this entire place," she continues. "A nice turquoise carpet, I think. Oh, and chandeliers in every room!"

"When this is over, you won't have to come back here," he points out. "With any luck, this home is only temporary."

"And what will you do, Haymitch?" she asks, cramming more food into her mouth.

He frowns. He hasn't really thought about it. It doesn't seem like a good idea to plan for the future in the middle of a war. "I'm going to have a few drinks," he says.

"I meant where will you live?" she clarifies.

"Haven't thought of that," he says. "Wherever I can. It won't matter after this. We'll be free."

Effie sets the empty plate aside. Haymitch is impressed by how quickly she's cleaned it. "Maybe we could find a place together," she suggests.

Haymitch grins. "Now, that doesn't sound very proper of you," he teases. "How many rules of etiquette are you breaking?"

Effie rolls her eyes. "You act like you wouldn't have asked me first," she says, smiling. "Don't pretend now. I've seen the way you look at me. I know that look all too well. Boys in the Capitol always looked me that way when I was young."

"And you'd really want to have a life with an old drunk like me?" he asks. He means for it to sound like a joke, but the hope in his words is poorly concealed.

"With a man who takes risks to make sure that I'm cared for?" she asks. "A man who has seen my natural face and still calls me pretty? There are worse fates, Haymitch."

He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "I suppose there are."

…

"Was it worth it?" Coin asks. "You know the rules, Haymitch."

He shrugs. He wonders if Coin would understand that he did it out of love. Doubtful. He isn't sure that she even knows the word. "Effie has a way with Katniss," he says, deciding that a strategic answer is the best. "You'll need her help to get through to Katniss. You can't get her help if she's isolating herself. I did you a favor."

Coin's eyes narrow, her face hard as stone. "She would have come out eventually."

"You've clearly never dealt with her," he laughs. "That woman makes a mule look cooperative."

Without waiting for a dismissal, he walks past her. "And where do you think you're going?" she demands, following behind him. "I'm not done with you! I have the Mockingjay. Don't get too comfortable with your position."

Haymitch stops and turns. "You have Katniss here physically, yes. But without me and Effie, that's all you have. You're nothing to her. She won't follow you blindly. You still need me."

"For now."

"Forever. Turn on me, and see what Katniss does," he says simply. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some moving to do."

"Moving?"

Haymitch grins. "I will be sharing a space with Effie from now on," he says simply. "If this place is going to be our home, then at least we can have some semblance of happiness."

Coin looks like she wants to argue. He can practically hear the gears turning inside her head. She clamps her jaw tightly and gives him a curt, angry nod. "So be it."

…

Haymitch lays awake, Effie curled into his side. He absently strokes her bare arm, smiling to himself.

The Games took a lot from him, things that he thought he would never get back. He doesn't remember the last time he's felt so peaceful without alcohol burning his veins, but now he feels something beautiful stirring within him, something he hasn't felt since the days of his youth.

He has a future again. A future with Effie.

"Hope," he whispers with a smile, finally remembering the word, finally understanding it for the first time in his life.