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“Where are you sneaking to so early in the morning?”
Effie startled badly, freezing in her tracks on her way to the elevator, not having expected Haymitch to be up before seven in the morning. He never got up that early, not even when they still had tributes to mentor.
One glance at him though and it became very clear he probably hadn’t bothered going to bed at all. Most likely, he had fallen asleep on the couch nursing a bottle of something strong. He was leaning heavily against the living-room’s doorframe, still wearing the same clothes he had the previous day, rubbing reddish eyes that still looked a little glassy from his evening’s binge.
She pursed her lips in distaste. “Honestly, Haymitch… You look terrible.”
“Thanks.” he replied without missing a beat. “So do you.” She shot him a glare but simply huffed at the now all too familiar insult. “Didn’t know spandex was in fashion.” His lips stretched into a tentative smirk. “Not complaining though. Makes for a sweet, sweet view.”
She rolled her eyes but preened a little at the backhanded compliment. She was wearing teal blue spandex shorts and a matching sport bra that went very well with the short washed-out pink wig she favored for sportive activities. The make-up was light because she would be sweating and there was no point turning into a melting mess – nevertheless, she was wearing make-up, though, exercise was no excuse not to be glamorous.
“I am going to the gym, if you must know.” she finally informed him with a sigh. “Like I have done twice a week for the last six years of our acquaintance. It is amazing to know how attentive you are to my comings and goings.”
“Ah, don’t be like that, sweetheart…” he mocked, his grey eyes twinkling a little with amusement. “I pay a lot of attention to your goings. Fuck, I’m thinking I’m really gonna like watching you go in those shorts.”
“Ruffian.” she huffed, shooting him a warning look. “Stop undressing me with your eyes, Haymitch, it is not happening and you are going to put me off schedule with your delays.”
“Kids are dead.” he reminded her, all amusement deserting his face. “There’s no more schedule.”
“There is my personal one.” she argued, forcing her features to remain composed, forcing her voice to remain steady. She didn’t want to think about the girl who smelt like fruits because her father owned the grocery store or about the boy who had been so ravenous he had made himself sick at every meal. “You know I hate being disorganized.”
“Depends for what…” he pointed out, the smirk slowly stretching his lips again. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and took a step closer. “And I’m thinking you’d like it if I slipped those shorts down your legs…”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Someone woke up horny.”
He licked his lips, a bit of uncertainly briefly flashing in his eyes.
To be fair, they didn’t usually play it this way. The first year they had sex, it had all been accidental and they had pretended every time it hadn’t happened. The second year had followed the same pattern, with heavy denials and more declarations of hatred or loathing. The third year, they had started triggering fights just to have an excuse. And this year… Well, this year, it felt like they couldn’t keep their hands off each other no matter how much they told themselves they would.
Still, though, they usually at least picked up a mock fight to have an excuse to give in to those urges.
For him to just come out and say he wanted her… Either he was still drunk or still half-asleep.
Or really desperate.
“You’re complaining?” he challenged.
She looked him up and down, her lips pursed once more.
“Perhaps if you had showered sometimes in the last three days…” she remarked regretfully. “As it is, I think I will have to get my work out the traditional way.”
“Your work out.” he taunted when she pushed the elevator’s button. “I bet you just do stretching things.”
“Well, one is not as flexible as I am without a little practice…” she retorted sweetly. “I never heard you complain about my flexibility before…”
The doors opened and she escaped between them, unable to hold a chuckle when she caught sight of his dismayed expression. Clearly, he was thinking about everything her flexible body could do and he wouldn’t get to sample.
Later, she told herself. It wouldn’t do to let him think he could have her any time he wanted anyway. She was determined to be the one to control this casual affair. It was easier that way.
She had to switch elevators in the lobby to get to the correct level but, at this hour, the Games Headquarters were deserted and she didn’t meet anyone. She wasn’t surprised, however, to find the gym reserved for mentors and escorts already occupied when she got there. It usually was.
“Good morning, Brutus.” she called cheerfully.
“Hey, Effie.” Two’s victor answered with a genuine enough smile. He didn’t stop lifting his weights and she didn’t stop to chat, though, preferring to head straight for the treadmills corner.
The huge screens facing the treadmills were all displaying the same channel: a livefeed of the arena where all the tributes were still sleeping. She fiddled with the settings until they turned into a giant display of a beach – likely in Four – and she could pretend she was elsewhere entirely.
She had just settled into a comfortable pace, her mind wandering a little, when she heard the gym’s door squeaking open. That was so unusual that she glanced over her shoulder – most victors didn’t visit the gym and most escorts didn’t want to be caught exercising, preferring to pretend their bodies stayed in shape naturally or perhaps relying on plastic surgery. Brutus came in every morning before dawn like clockwork and she had gotten so used to having to share the gym with him only that she was always a bit ill-at-ease when someone else wandered in. Enobaria had come up a few times, often with Cashmere in tow, but rarely this early.
When she saw who it actually was though, she tripped and almost went down – which was never fun when running on a treadmill.
Clearly, she wasn’t the only who was surprised because Brutus actually put down his weights to outstretch a hand. “Didn’t know you even knew this place existed.”
“Yeah, well…” Haymitch joked, shaking the other victor’s hand. “Got some unexpected motivation this morning…”
A minute later, he was standing right behind her treadmill and she could feel his stare on her butt.
“Enjoying the view?” she teased, mindful of Brutus’ presence.
“Ain’t much of a beach man.” he replied. “Now give me a forest and we’re set.”
She snorted but tapped a few buttons on the control console of the treadmills and the screens switched from a beach to woods somewhere. Maybe Seven. Maybe even Twelve. To her, all the woods were the same.
She kept her pace through it all, working to keep her breathing regular. “You actually put on work clothes. I did not know you were aware you had any.”
He usually used them as pajamas.
But, damn, the shorts and tight shirt looked good on him.
He was a bit soft on the chest area but his shoulders were broad and strong – and his ass was firm. He wasn’t Brutus, all muscles, but he was still in appealing shape for someone whose only physical activity was chopping logs – then again, she would pay good money to actually watch that.
“Fuck off, sweetheart.” he said, cheerfully enough.
It seemed he was enjoying the view.
However, after a few minutes of his staring, Brutus was starting to get a knowing smirk and Haymitch must have felt self-conscious – or, more likely, anxious not to spill the beans about their particular arrangement – because he actually went over to a weight machine and, after studying it for a few moments, sat down and used it.
It was physical work, much more physical than Effie’s running habits – but she didn’t want to have too well defined arms muscles, that never worked on runways – and it wasn’t long before he was sweating and red in the face. After ten minutes and a quick look to check Brutus wasn’t paying attention, he discarded the shirt. He never liked to display his scars.
“Can’t say I see the appeal of this fuss.” he grumbled when she finally climbed off the treadmill. He looked vaguely hopeful, as if she would declared it was over and they could go back to the penthouse – where, she figured, he did intend to slip those shorts off her. When she sat down on a mat and started stretching, he looked a bit disappointed – although that didn’t last long once she opened her legs in a facial split that she may or may not have done just for effect alone.
“I assure you, I do.” she purred, letting her eyes roam on his glistening chest in a very appreciative way.
He rolled his eyes but looked pleased.
It wasn’t long before he abandoned the weight machine to join her on the mat, pretending to stretch only to have an excuse to come closer.
“So… You do this often?” he asked.
“Twice a week.” she hummed. “Did you think I kept my body in shape by pure force of will?”
“Well, to be fair, you’ve got a fucking strong force of will…” he snorted.
“You are welcome to join me more often, you know.” she offered. “Exercise is good for you.”
Better than liquor, in any case.
And Brutus seemed to think it was a great way of… coping.
“Could coach you.” Two’s victor suggested from the other side of the gym. “I already offered Effie but she turned me down.”
“I am not quite sure Valeria would appreciate you coaching me alone in the gym at unseemly hours.” she replied.
Brutus rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to deny the implied statement that he was involved with his own escort like he would have on TV. “Val hates the gym. And it’s all friendly anyway. You’re a good workout partner, that’s all.”
“Yeah, but she’s my workout partner.” Haymitch snapped before she could answer. There was no real hostility in his voice but there was a touch of possessiveness.
Victors, she mused silently, always behaving like cavemen. Because this wasn’t even about jealousy, clearly. It was about another victor sniffing around Haymitch’s escort.
He could deny it all he wanted, she knew he was terrified someone would snatch her up and she would get promoted. There certainly were a lot of requests for her to be transferred to other teams.
Now if only Head Gamemaker Torello would let her go…
But she was too useful in Twelve. That was what they always said.
“Fair enough.” Brutus laughed.
Effie rolled her eyes and swallowed back an acidic remark about men and their need to assert dominance. She got back to her feet and declared she was done for the day.
Haymitch was only too happy to hear that.
He followed her eagerly out of the gym and he kept his hands to himself until they were in the second elevator that would bring them back to the penthouse.
She wasn’t surprised however, glass wall or not, that he was on her long before they even reached their floor…
Patience had never really been his thing.