Work Text:
Haymitch hated the losing Districts interviews.
It was a filler program when nothing much was happening inside the arena and they generally had little to do with the Games themselves – unless no victor or escort had juicy gossip to dissect, then it was all about analyzing tributes’ actions but, in this city, there was always juicy gossip. The interviews were live and Caesar was always in fine form and Haymitch had lost track of the conversation because they had been talking in circles for what felt like hours.
Well, Caesar and Effie had been talking in circles for hours. It was too fucking early in the morning, Haymitch hadn’t expected to be dragged out of bed so early. He was still drunk from the night before and from the healthy amount of moonshine he had slipped in his orange juice while his escort was puzzling over what he should wear. Their appearance was a last minute decision apparently, and the sobering pills she had forced him to swallow hadn’t kicked in yet. His head felt like it would burst but given that it was currently filled with cotton, he wasn’t sure how that could hurt.
Mostly, he had been sitting on the settee next to Effie since the interview had started, staring into the audience, progressively slouching until a well-placed accidental nudge of her pointy elbow reminded him to sit straighter. They had done the slouching-nudging routine at least ten times by then.
“We have been over this, Caesar.” Effie laughed her fake laugh, her bright dazzling smile on her lips. “Again, I promise this is utter rubbish and, unlike others, I am not one to slander but this Landros Halvis is clearly trying to use my name to get himself a five minutes shot in the spotlight. My lawyers will be handling it. I am not sure what else I can say.”
“So you maintain you were not involved in any sort of relationship with Landros?” Caesar forged ahead.
Haymitch wondered if the host hadn’t heard the hint of steal under the cheerful tone or if he was just that brave – or stupid.
“As I have repeatedly said, I met him at a party last week and he bought me a drink. He explained he was looking to find a position in a haute-couture fashion house. I wished him good luck.” she answered, a touch of irritation slipping in her tone. “His allegations that we have been having a torrid love affair for months is entirely ridiculous since I had never heard of him before that night and I would rather not give more traction to his claims by discussing it on live TV. Now, Caesar, what did you think of Five’s tributes inspired tactic of hiding in a tree?”
Her attempt at redirecting the conversation failed because Caesar had zero interest in Five’s tributes.
If there was one thing Haymitch hated more than the losing Districts interviews, it was discussing Effie’s exes or current boyfriends/girlfriends.
He wasn’t sure what was going on with the guy they were discussing or if she was telling the truth when she said she hadn’t fucked him – although they had been going without condoms so if she had, it hadn’t been recent or she had gotten tested in the meantime because they had a rule about that and, yeah, it was mostly an indirect way to confess if they had been with anyone else at all because they hadn’t said they were exclusive but Haymitch wanted…
A drink, he told himself firmly. That was the only thing he wanted. A drink. To drown this debilitating chatter.
“Inspiring, as you say.” Caesar humored her, leaning back a little in his fuchsia armchair – a terrible color and the whole attempt at making the set more cozy was a miss in Haymitch’s opinion – to better consider his prey. Effie’s smile didn’t strain but there was a clear warning in her eyes now. A warning the host chose to ignore. “Landros did give rather… intimate details that he could not have given if you two had never been involved.”
The settee wasn’t that large and Haymitch felt her body tense.
He didn’t think she had expected to walk into that kind of trap that morning because she wasn’t wearing the kind of clothes she would wear to weather off a scandal. She looked ridiculous as usual, of course, but she didn’t look… She didn’t look formidable. And she had a way to make herself look terrifying when she wanted to.
Clearly Caesar had caught her off guard.
Whatever that Landros guy was saying, it must have broken out during the night.
Effie tensed even more. “I have not had a chance to go over everything he is saying yet but I can safely say it is pure fabrication.”
“Well…” Caesar hummed with a small apologetic smile. “Obviously, he claims a sexual relationship.”
“I do hope you know me well enough to agree I generally aim a little higher than vulgar nobodies.” she retorted in a hiss.
“He is giving rather… ah… Shall we say… delicate pieces of information.” the host insisted.
Haymitch started frowning.
He hadn’t followed much of the previous back and forth but it was obvious Effie was getting upset and he didn’t like that. They had been on air for a long time and Caesar ought to wrap it up by now. Either the arena was really calm or the Effie story was really juicy.
“Fabrications.” Effie repeated in a dismissive tone.
She sounded calm and collected but Haymitch could tell she was getting really angry and the moment the cameras cut off and they would all walk backstage, Caesar would need to run for cover.
“So you do not, in fact, have a tattoo in an… intimate out of sight spot?” Caesar asked.
Effie opened her mouth but, before she could say anything, Haymitch snorted. “Is that what the asshole is saying? Well, that’s bullshit.”
He felt Effie freeze and Caesar’s eyes lock on him for the first time since they had sat down and he had greeted them both.
“Why, what do you mean, Haymitch?” the host asked, innocently enough.
His escort’s hand darted to his forearm and squeezed hard enough that her nails would have done some real damage if he hadn’t been wearing a shirt and a jacket.
“I mean she doesn’t have a single tattoo on her body and if that guy’s saying she does, then he’s a fucking liar.” he scoffed and tossed her a smug look. She owed him for this and he fully expected her to thank him. Thoroughly. With that lovely mouth of hers.
But she looked horrified instead of grateful and her lovely mouth wasn’t grinning in gratitude but pinched in anger.
He frowned, not quite understanding why she wasn’t happy with him now.
“And how do you know that, Haymitch?” Caesar asked sweetly, leaning forward in his chair.
It occurred to him suddenly that the studio was deadly quiet, the audience was holding its breath for his answer, Effie’s nails were still digging in his arm in a way that wasn’t really discreet and it was at that very moment that he realized just what he had said.
He had implied he had seen her naked and in a way that guaranteed he would know if there were hidden tattoos in intimate places.
He had implied they had fucked, which was a confirmation Caesar had been after for years.
And he had done that on live TV so there was no way of weaseling out of it by cutting it out of the recording.
He was still too drunk for this.
Shit, that was why they had this rule that if he was drunk he left the talking to her.
Shit.
“What Haymitch means…” Effie tried after clearing her throat.
“Lingerie.” he blurted out. It came out a bit panicky but, under the circumstances, he was proud of himself for even thinking about that. “She models lingerie.”
Caesar flashed him a smile that clearly meant ‘good try but not good enough’. “Tattoos can be edited out. And there is still plenty of space to hide one under lingerie…”
Haymitch snorted. “Have you seen the lingerie she models for? There’s no room to hide anything under those things. There’s barely any fabric at all, come on…”
“You seem to be a fan of Effie’s lingerie pictures, Haymitch…” Caesar joked, triggering a round of laughter in the audience.
Effie took advantage of that to cover her mic with her hand and discreetly lean closer to him.
“Shut up.” she hissed in his ear. “Shut up right now and let me handle this.”
It wasn’t often she was that vulgar and that, coupled with the urgency in her voice, told Haymitch he better comply, no matter how much he wanted to be contrary.
They were in on one slippery slope.
“So… You are so certain Effie is not hiding a secret tattoo because of her modeling pictures… Are you quite sure you do not have firsthand knowledge?” Caesar attacked once the laughter had died. “Rumors have been rampant for years and I had you sitting here to address them so many times I have lost count…”
“And our answer will be the same as any other year.” Effie rolled her eyes. “We are good friends.”
“You bicker like a married couple.” the host countered with a small smirk that might even have been genuine.
Haymitch couldn’t say.
The sobering pills might finally be kicking in because he felt a little clearer in the head.
“You’d bicker with her like you were married twenty years too if you had to put up with her for days at a time.” Haymitch mocked, falling back on familiar patterns.
“How lovely!” Effie exclaimed with a puff, not missing a beat. She pursed her lips in obvious annoyance and narrowed her eyes at him. “Why, Haymitch, you say the nicest things, don’t you? And right after I helped you modernize your wardrobe too!” She huffed and puffed in outrage. “See if I help you ever again.”
“Didn’t ask you anything in the first place, did I?” he retorted, making a face at her. “I was very happy with my own clothes.”
“You would be happy wearing rags.” she argued. “If I let you, you would show up on red carpets wearing pajamas.”
He smirked, wriggling his eyebrows. “Why, sweetheart… I never wear pajamas…”
“Outrageous!” she exclaimed. “And on live TV too! How improper! You will be the death of me!”
“I wish.” he deadpanned, making the audience laugh.
They kept the banter up for a few minutes, not giving Caesar a chance to butt in either way.
Eventually, the host admitted defeat and loudly cut in their – mostly – pretend fight to announce that sadly they were out of time.
Effie sat there with a bright smile on her face while he wrapped it up but the moment the red light that indicated recording was off she stood up, tossed Caesar a glare and stormed backstage without a word.
“You’re so on her shit list now…” Haymitch mocked, tearing the mic off his lapel and getting glared at by the pink-haired staff girl who rushed over to take over from his clumsy fingers. She had him freed in seconds.
“You more or less told Panem you were sleeping with her so I would not be so cocky if I were you.” Caesar replied. “You might be on her…”
“Haymitch!” Effie snapped from backstage, her voice loud even with the coming and going of technicians. “Any time today would be good!”
“See what I’ve got to put up with? She doesn’t get that mentor trumps escort, she thinks she’s the boss of me. When do I get a new one?” he grumbled but stood up anyway because… Well, yeah, he had almost fucked up everything in an epic way, hadn’t he?
“Every time Finnick mentions bringing her to Four to a Gamemaker you have a temper tantrum, Haymitch.” Caesar pointed out as they made their way to the backstage area. Their slow way. Neither of them were impatient to face her.
“Cause he’s a little shit who wants to steal my escort.” he argued. “Not cause I wanna keep her.”
“Of course.” the Capitol humored him. He lost his smile when he found himself face to face with a very pissed off Effie Trinket who was watching him with narrowed eyes, her hands on her hips. “Now, now, my dear… Do not be angry with me, you know the beast has to be fed…”
“That was in poor form, Caesar.” she hissed. “You could have given me time to get my bearings this morning instead of having me dragged here right as the story hit. I haven’t even had a chance to call my lawyers yet.” She paused and pursed her lips harder. “And this is all slander. You know it is.”
“I know and I will make sure to express that opinion loudly.” Caesar promised. “But the Games are slow this year and we need filling time.” He sighed. “Do not worry, I do not expect this buzz to last more than a day or two. Once lawyers get involved, that man will retract himself and apologize. He is a small fish with great ambition.”
“Still.” she huffed. “I understand we all have a job to do but I thought we were more friendly than this, you and I. I might turn to Claudius next time I have something important to impart publicly.”
“Effie dear…” Caesar cajoled but, seeing she wouldn’t be moved, he sighed again. “Fine. What do you want?”
“Fifteen minutes of advertisement in Twelve’s favor next year.” she answered without batting an eyelash. “And you personally endorsing one of the tributes.”
“I cannot endorse a tribute. I am to be sadly impartial in all this.” Caesar reminded her. “But I can hint at one being more promising than the rest. Deal.”
“I will hold you to this.” she insisted before turning toward Haymitch.
The host, clearly dismissed and relieved to be – not that anyone could blame him because as sweet as she looked, Effie had a temper and everybody in the business knew that – scampered away after mouthing a good luck to him.
Haymitch’s slightly more sober brain told him it was better to go on the offensive than to get chewed out like Caesar had been.
“I ain’t saying sorry.” he warned her.
And, in hindsight, maybe he should just stop talking altogether that day because this didn’t seem very helpful.
Still, her lips weren’t as pursed as they had been with the host and they slowly relaxed into a mildly annoyed pout. She glanced around, noticed they had an audience because everyone was covertly watching them – they may or may not have a reputation for having epic fights that were often news worthy – and headed toward the studio’s exit without another word.
Haymitch followed. What else was he going to do?
“It was a good idea to fall back on the banter.” she admitted once they were out in the sun.
Haymitch had to blink because the sun was too bright. Finnick had a collection of fancy sunglasses and even though Haymitch despises stupid fashion accessories, maybe he should look into getting a pair for himself.
“You wanna get breakfast somewhere?” he suggested.
Caesar’s talk show studio was a certain distance from the Games Headquarters. There was a car waiting for them but he felt like walking a little after spending so long sitting still. And he was hungry. He had barely had time to swallow a glass of orange juice that morning, she hadn’t let him grab any pastry on the way in.
“It is too late for breakfast, I am afraid.” she sighed, checking her watch. “But we might be lucky with brunch. I know a darling little place a few blocks away. Private.”
He nodded and let her cancel the car. They set off at a sedate pace. He wasn’t sure how she could walk so steady on her impossibly high heels but he had long stopped questioning the magic of it.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. The – polluted – air was helping clear the rest of his head.
“He’s gonna be a problem?” he asked. “The guy making claims.”
She made a sound between a groan and a disgusted huff. “I did not have a chance to look at everything he said. There was a two pages exclusive piece in Capitol Gossip today and Emelyn Everhart was all over it on TV this morning when I got up.” He didn’t comment on the contempt with which she spat the trashy talk show host’s name. Every since he had slept with the woman years earlier – well before they had ever done anything – Effie hated her. “Seneca’s assistant called me to tell me we were to appear on Caesar’s morning show before I could do anything.” She waved her hand in the air. “It should be easy to deal with though. It is slander. I never slept with him, he has zero proof. I will have my lawyers threaten him with a lawsuit…”
“Could threaten him full point.” he offered.
She shot him a look that was part amused and part chiding. “I appreciate the intention but that would only add more fuel to his fire. And to the pyre of the rumors about us that you so nicely revived today.”
He licked his lips. “Still drunk. Not my fault.”
“Debatable.” she argued but let it go. “No matter. It is handled. I will handle the rest once we get back to the penthouse… It can wait after breakfast. Brunch. Either. As long as it involves food. I am famished.” She was silent for a bit. “You are paying, by the way.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. As long as we agree we’re even.”
Because he had fucked up back there and she had all the rights to be angry about it. They had a pact to keep their affair secret, for everyone’s safety and because acknowledging it would give it too much importance. He liked the casual thing.
“We are far from being even.” she huffed. “But I will settle for brunch for now.”
Good enough, he figured. Good enough…