Work Text:
The Train
The first one was a mistake. Reflexive, they had a habit back in their house where they said "Love You" just for the sake of it. Put the dishes back, got the gumballs restocked, put the Ironing board back in place; got a love you.
So, she also had a habit of saying that. Mostly to her sister, sometimes to her parents. It was a habit.
All that justification didn't matter when she said "love you" to Haymitch when he got her some grape juice on the fucking tribute train.
Wyatt was the only other person present in the compartment; they had been talking in whispers about their potential alliance and whose odds were higher and whatnot. Haymitch had left the compartment some minutes back, and she had jokingly asked him to bring something to drink.
How would she know that he would have complied.
She wasn't blind; itchy itchy had in fact grown to be a quite a tall, and as begrudged she be to admit it, handsome guy. She had noticed this up on the stage when she had been reaped. Silently thinking through all her life and reminding herself to not cry and humiliate herself, her family and all of Panem to see. The Capitol didn't deserve it, they weren't owed her tears. There was a pit in her stomach then, threatening to consume her wholesale, and she didn’t realize it then but looking at him made the pit subside.
Then woodbine got shot, and it broke her completely out of that mental estrange. She saw everything. Lenore Dove going and tugging on the peacekeeper's arm, that girl was too reckless for her own good. Unbelievably reckless, as she already knew from her Graffiti habit, she hated the capitol too but she knew well enough not to pull stunts that could harm her or her loved ones like that girl.
And harm it did, as Haymitch got pulled into all that chaos. He had been in a patchwork shirt back then, tall as all hell. His golden curls caught her eyes again, when the peacekeeper caught him. Then his face, which had developed, as she had already noticed, into quite an aesthetic form. Blue eyes and high cheekbones, a sturdiness in his jaw which gave out quite an imposing structure.
Then they got packed into this train ride to their certain death. She tried to ignore the presence of him, Infront of him and in her mind. It was quite difficult as he was quite annoying. And handsome.
So, when he came back from the catering compartment, juice in his hand, the words just slipped out.
“Love you Haymitch” left her lips before she could realize what a monumental mistake she was making.
She shut up after that; Wyatt didn't much budge which was surprising. Haymitch got a wry smirk on. Then he put the juice down and sat down. The words hanging between them, pervasively and silently.
Focusing on the grape juice was her only option she couldn't will herself to look into any of their eyes. Especially not the blue ones of Haymitch; the grape juice thankfully was a deep purple and was rippling from the train ride. It was chilled too she could tell from the droplets that had built up on the glass. The droplets that had been mostly smudged, because of Haymitch's big hand.
He did have quite big hands.
They tried not to talk about the incident after that. Just lulled themselves to inaction as the train took them to their deaths.
The Capitol
The second time she believed it was a mistake, but it wasn't. She still believed. Belief was the key of every thought not creeping up and overtaking her entirely.
It was after the parade, after everything that had happened with Louella the blood, the fall everything. Every time she closed her eyes her crushed head flashed through, she was going to hurl and that's when Plutarch found them.
"Ah the couple of the moment" he had said, with his eyes twinkling and with an air of importance, just an edge like he wanted to impose himself but not quite.
Wyatt had already gone into his room of the suite the capitol had imprisoned them in. They might call it a luxury accommodation but she could see the gilded cage it was. Plutarch had talked about some detour, but had changed his mind it looked like then. Her and Haymitch weren't the only ones there, as Effie and Proserpina were also under earshot but it looked like they didn't hear the conversation. Too busy with some inane chat about that season's capitol reality show.
Haymitch looked worn out too, he must have been feeling the same things she had been, probably worse because Louella had been in her arms last. She couldn't forget him carrying her to Snow, unfortunately it wasn't helping with all the things about him she was trying to bury deep inside her.
"I'll be quick, because I know that you have a big big day ahead," he smiled at that like it was an inside joke between them, "but plans have changed, I believe we can get two of you home to twelve"
He said the last part so nonchalantly like it wasn't an earth-shattering statement he had just said.
"What" she and Haymitch said together. His was more gurgled, more tired, deeper like he didn't hear him clearly. Hers was louder and more questioning, not too loud as Effie and Proserpina didn't turn around.
"I believe we can bring you both back to twelve, make you both win, let's continue this conversation inside" his smile had dropped by then and a semblance of seriousness was over his face. He was looking at their stylists too, clearly this conversation was too important to be overheard.
Haymitch was the fastest, using his long legs for quite an advantage, reaching the door in three lunges, opening it before Plutarch and her were even halfway through. Something panged in her chest at that, clearly, he was very interested in getting home, maybe he was a little excited to get home with her too.
Plutarch looked around the big living room the capitol had provided, probably watching out for Wyatt, and when his eyes stopped wandering he dropped another bombshell. "To get both you back home, you have to pretend to be in love. Pretend to be a couple in love to be precise" his words were much more clinical then, but it didn't mask the insanity he was spewing.
She was struck by a freezing feeling, and when she looked at Haymitch that freeze turned into something fearful. He looked furious.
"Why us, why not her and Wyatt" Haymitch asked in barely restrained anger. "I'll be completely objective and concise here, this Quarter Quell has double the amount of tributes so it logically should have double the victors" Plutarch took a pause then, allowed them to absorb the madness he was spewing.
"You have to show them that you are in love with each other, we'll tell your girl to not talk, and on the matter of you pairing with Maysilee it is quite logical"
"How, is it logical" Haymitch said, clenching his jaw, an interesting cadence he took, every syllable unnaturally stressed. Like it was physically paining him to say all that. Like he was about to explode and do something, something bad.
"You are both attractive and in the same age range. It responds with the Capitol ratings well and we need every good ratings modifier we have"
"So, I'll have to say I love you to itch itchy like a crazed love-struck idiot " it made them both look. Not look but pause and look, Plutarch had a quizzical expression on his face all while Haymitch had his eyes widened, like he couldn't believe this was his life. That he couldn't believe that she had said those three words twice in one day to him. For the first time in her life, she wanted to crawl into a shell and stay there because of something she said.
She had done it again, nobody was talking about love there and Plutarch and Haymitch obviously noticed, quite obviously in fact. What was going on with her mouth around him. Why did she never run her words back, where was all her self-control.
"No need to be saccharine Miss Donner, occasional kisses and longing looks will do" Plutarch said without even a hitch of hindrance.
So, he spoke and bound them to their joint fates, and there was nothing they could do about that. If they wanted to survive the games together, they'd have to pretend to be together.
The Interview
They sat for their turn with Caesar Flickerman with their hands linked, Haymitch winked and played the part of a blushing Loverboy with a crush and the cameras noticed, oh they did. Periodically even when other interviews were going on she saw the screen cut to their hands interlinked. Caesar also paused a couple of times to look at them with a quizzed look, clearly exaggerated for the cameras.
And the people there ate it all up.
It was vomit inducing, it was wrong, and somewhere deep inside she knew she should feel worse about this than she was. His hand was quite bigger than hers, she had noticed this before, but when it was intertwined with her that's when she noticed how much bigger it actually was. It enveloped hers two-fold maybe even three times, and holding it however much it be in a lie, grounded her. All the interviews passed by and the dreadful sinking that appeared in her stomach during the reaping stayed at bay because of him.
His support in his hand, and they few glances he threw by her, in an act of course, stabilized her.
She was pathetic.
Soon it was Twelve's turn, they called Wyatt first, and he had figured something about them out. His was a standard affair, just laid out the odds like she knew he would do, but the moment of him saying something about their act never came up and for that she was thankful.
Then Caesar called Haymitch up, and she immediately felt the warmth of his hand leaving her, and that immediately led to the pit coming back. That uneasiness and fear, she hoped it didn't show in her face then.
"Well, well, first of all I have to ask, how do you like, " he emphasized that really well, " the capitol food " that got guffaws from the crowd, like it was all a joke.
"Real good Caesar, the grape juice was a highlight" he looked at her then, and the cameras sure captured that, and she caught some of the capitolites in the front row turned to each other and covered their mouth, performatively gossiping. It deepened the pit, all of the fakeness.
Haymitch had his smirk on again, but she could see it was not real. It pained him doing the smile, it didn't even reach his eyes and those eyes didn't even brighten. She knew when he smiled, he smiled fully with his eyes brightening and lips stretching. Directed at anyone it felt that it was just for them.
"On that note, of course I have noticed your proximity to a certain someone. Would you care to comment on that" Caesar's word snapped her back from staring at his face. He laughed, and she could tell it was fake.
"Yeah Caesar, the games make it easy to see what matters, and who matters" he looked at her again. Those eyes, which had been so full of confidence, looked hesitant. Looked scared. "And who it may be, the object of your matters, Haymitch Abernathy"
But he didn't say her name, she could see him trying but the words wouldn't come out. She figured even their utterance was a mockery to Lenore Dove.
His time with Caesar got finished after that, Lou Lou did her snake routine the way she told them she would. Soon it was her turn, and she walked to the spot with one goal in mind. A declaration.
So she declared in front of all of Panem that, "Sorry Caesar, can't go back to anyone in Twelve, because the boy I liked, came with me, was just talking to you in fact"
"Oh my, Wyatt why didn't you say anything" Caesar asked with mock scandal.
"Not Wyatt, Caesar. No better time to say this I reckon, but I love you Haymitch Abernathy " that made everyone gasp, she saw Caesar getting genuinely surprised, she gave a half smirk then. An echo of the smirk he always gave
She glanced over at Haymitch and held his eyes until her time ran out.
She hoped Lenore Dove would forgive her for this. She knew she wouldn't.
The Arena
They had been walking for days and the edge was still not in their sight. She was getting tired and worried. Even if they hadn't seen combat in a couple of days the games had still been bloody, last night she saw four more of tributes on the sky. She recognized all of them, newcomers. Only five of the forty eight left. Three of the newcomers still.
They had the directive from Plutarch about that lover’s angle. They had exchanged a lot of fake kisses in those two days, it troubled her more and more every time. The first one had been on her, when she found him after the volcano exploded.
He had ditched the cape by then, and his tracksuit had been worn down in some spots. Nothing mattered at that point, just the sight of him after she had seen Wyatt die made her ecstatic. So, when she ran towards him and jumped into his arms, and then she kissed him, and for a moment it all felt real.
He returned the kiss back, hands adjusting under shoulders, carrying her all while she was melting into him, into the kiss, shared gasps until they had to break for air. He looked flushed from up close, his eyes from there were unavoidable to not fall into. He put her down then and she missed the feeling of his lips immediately.
As the day progressed the kisses became more frequent, almost methodical, because every time they kissed sponsors gave something to them. Slowly those kisses that made her belief something became something that disgusted her.
All that performance, and fakeness from him, just to get morsels from the Capitol.
And then there was the walking, Haymitch was planning something she could tell, he kept walking in one direction, head up and moving like a man with a reason, a plan. His stride was much more than hers, on account of his legs being much longer than hers, but he slowed his pace to be much closer to hers, always being a step from hers.
"Haymitch what is your plan?" she asked under a tree on their third day together.
"Have to go the edge May" he was focused. Secretive.
They were obviously listening, the tree was probably bugged, but he wasn't suicidally idiotic and she had to believe there was a reason for this. So, she did what had to be done, something that uttered would make a long-hushed conversation after look predictable and non-suspicious.
"Hay, did I ever tell you, I love you" she said with all her pretend sincerity, and a little actual sincerity she hoped wasn't real. Couldn't hope it was real.
He was slack jawed, eyes widened, good. She moved a lot closer and his ear came within reach, then she whispered
"What are you planning "
"Plutarch and Beetee, stick with me and we'll die with this Arena's destruction " he didn't say it with anger but a saddened resignation. Not for himself she realized but for her.
He didn't want her to die.
He wanted her to be the victor, without him. It would look terrible on TV what she was about to do, the optics alone but it didn't matter, she slapped him then.
Her hand ringed across, not even covering his face completely, but she knew he felt it hard.
Then he kissed her.
That was the first kiss he initiated, lifted her face with such delicateness she didn't know he had. Then kissed her so deeply she felt only him and not the arena that was going to kill her. She wanted to say, I love you, you know that right, when they had to break up for air, for real that time. It died in her throat when he looked at her with a sad resigned face. He had already made up his mind this kiss probably meant nothing to him, and before she could slap him again, they heard footsteps.
Silka Sharp had finally graced them with her presence.
The Hospital
They had been standing over the body of Silka and she looked almost at peace. At most at peace someone with an axe in their head could. Her plan of them ending the games was simple, she had an extra container of that poison, and they had uncorked it in preparation. Too weak to hold it even upright properly because of the axe wounds Silka had inflicted. She remembered a warning and the blackness. She had missed the recantation and announcement of there being dual victors of the second quarter quell.
Then there were the hurried whispers, one of which she had halfway understood to be Plutarch's all of them were rushed and echoey. She felt a lot of needles going inside her and it terrified her that she couldn't say anything. She couldn't move much but she still tried, all her might to get a finger wiggling.
Then slowly she could open her eyes, and even slower still could she actually sit up. That's when she took in the whole room
They put the both of them in the same hospital room. She had almost drunk poison and almost died of blood loss. Be loathed be to admit it, the capitol quacks did a very good job. He was still out, breathing slowly. His face looked paler, ashen even. She periodically looked at him and didn't believe that they made it. The fight, the declaration, the recantation, everything flashed in her mind. It was disastrous their last stand, when Capitol took back their promise of dual victors, and they decide to not fight anymore.
He looked so different from the Haymitch in the interview, or even in the arena. He was covered in bandages, the axe he took to his guts flashed over when she looked at that spot. All that blood spilling through, as she stood their helpless without any of her darts remaining. It was dumb luck that Silka had thrown the axe at her then, and that her eye had been gouged out so she couldn't aim properly; it barely missed her head and fell into the cliff.
She fell a few seconds after that too, the gash on her legs made it too hard for her to stand, which saved her from the axe rebounding and hitting Silka in the head.
Then the announcement came about how there would only be one victor, then their decision happened. Then there was the hospital.
When she came back from all the capitol needling, she felt terrified that he won't wake up. She took every moment she could to be closer to him. Plutarch helped, got the nurses to get their beds even closer together, and because they took of the drip a few days in, she could move, so she was always by his side. Sometimes she even held his hand, he was cold and it felt like a betrayal, she mostly held it for herself, as an anchor.
On the third day they made her get up from his side, and they began prepping for something. They were prepping her for the same thing. Later Plutarch told them that there was some residual poison left in them, which could only be expelled after a certain time frame with a specialized operation.
She didn't know it then when she was screaming at the doctors trying to separate him from her.
She whispered a feverish "I love you" when the doctors came and took him to his scheduled surgery. She hoped that she would remember it after they knocked her out too.
The Fire
When they got back on the train, she knew it would never be the same anymore. They had changed escorts, Drusilla was incapacitated, the old hag she was and they had gotten Effie as a replacement.
"I'll give you both the time to readjust" she said solemnly, surprisingly she could be something except cheery all the time.
Two coffins returned to twelve every year, this time two broken victors returned with them. They sat across each other in that compartment on the floor, hand in hand. Just adjusting to the weight of all of it.
They hadn't kissed since the arena but what they were doing then felt deeper than any of their fake kisses.
It all stopped and crashed when they got off the train and saw the smoke. It was coming from two places, the town and the seam.
They burned everyone she loved except him, and for him they killed everyone who mattered. His mum, Sid, and Lenore Dove. All in her grief of losing her parents and Merrilee there was a small part furious at her forever thinking she deserved him, also a big part that was guilty that it was probably her actions that got Lenore Dove hung in the town square.
They had seen the scene when they smoke had cleared, off of her and Haymitch's house. She was still delirious then and it looked almost fake, his Dove strangled above them all, displayed for all to see.
She hurled after that, Haymitch was almost catatonic. An almost dead man walking, and that was with the help of Blair and Burdock, because he fell after seeing Lenore Dove. That was it. He couldn't stand to look at her face after that, earlier before the fire, they used to sleep in the same bed together just to keep the nightmares at bay, that was inconceivable now.
He did not love her back, in fact it was becoming obvious that he hated her presence, every time he looked at her after seeing his girl dead was filled with contempt and loathing. That didn't matter much she consoled herself, as the days passed. They had their separate mansions, another one of the capitol's cages and their paths didn't cross once in their first week back.
Until one night, when there was a knock on her door.
She opened it hesitantly, and he was there in all his disarray. All his clothes were crumpled, like he had just gotten them of the floor and his hair was frizzy like hadn't washed it in days, eyes almost bloodshot and he still looked beautiful.
"You know I had a few moments in the Hospital where it was all clear, where I could listen to what was going on" he declared all his words seemed well rehearsed and ordered, a clash with his appearance.
"Really " she folded her arms, tried to muster up some skepticism. Tried to not show how pathetically happy she was that he was talking to her again.
" Yes Maysilee, really, and I would have said this earlier but all that happened, " he took a breath, focused on and continued "and I wanted to disappear, but I found out something when I tried to hide myself from you"
He stepped closer. Him being two heads taller than her really showed in moments like this, his focus on her eyes felt much more encompassing when that was all she could see peering down at her. They were remarkably blue and at that moment, alluring.
"What" she asked, he had stepped really close at that moment. Practically enveloped her at that point, but she felt no fear, in fact she felt an anticipation.
"That I love you, Maysilee Donner" he had tipped her chin upwards with that, and she let him. The feeling that was filling her up at him finally saying those words made her forget everything that had happened.
That was all it took. He descended down to her lips with that declaration and her permission.