#do you know the mental gymnastics I went through to post this 💀

[hungergameshyperfixation]

Slight “musings” on an older nonspecific Haymitch relationship. Not proper fanfiction, more like scenario prompts. (“Edit”: IDK why I wrote it like this. This is basically like a oneshot…I just forgot the word ‘oneshot’ I guess LMAO) Kinda fluff…??? Idk???

(Also second edit: maybe I’ll explain a bit more in the comments or a reblog but I used They/them pronouns for the other character. I did this both a placeholder but also so that the gender was ambiguous. Idk, I know it seems wonky because I capitalized it sometimes and sometimes didn’t, bear with me. I had like a hard time finally posting this; it’s been “finished” in my drafts since July 💀)

They bring him a cup of warm coffee as he sits out on the porch. He’s staring out into the view from his house; the same house he’s had since he won the Hunger Games at sixteen. He’s seen it a million times, and he’s zoned out now. Haymitch looks over at his person, not making too much of an effort to smile their way; it wasn’t that kind of night. His health had been declining, naturally of course.

He takes the mug of coffee, acknowledging the act. He feels their hand travel to his shoulder, the touch light and familiar. Soon, his head is inched closer in Their direction; he doesn’t acknowledge it when he receives a gentle kiss on his head.

He didn’t like to be babied. But, he had known Them for decades now, and he’d rather be “babied” by them than by anyone else. He doesn’t grumble anymore, not too often at least. Sometimes, if he does it randomly enough, it’ll get a light laugh from Them. He still got that slight sense of pride and an ego boost whenever They laughed.

He looks back out to the shadow covered trees, taking that first sip of coffee…

As he tastes that familiar, comforting drug that was caffeine, they start to brush through his hair. Haymitch didn’t say anything; he still wasn’t sure if he liked it. He knew he didn’t hate it, and as cynical as he was, he didn’t want to ruin these kinds of domestic things for Them. His hair, now gray with the occasional flecks of its original color, was still thick despite the age. Thankfully though, before he can dwell on it too much, They stop. Their hands go to his shoulders, no words being exchanged still. Yet, it’s worked before and it works now. They lean down from behind Haymitch, gently pecking his cheek.

Alright, now they were going too far. His brows furrow and he shoots them a silent look, one they’ve apparently seen before because they just silently look back. Their hands on his shoulders, easing down lightly to ease all the typical aches Haymitch now feels. They lean back in to lightly brush their lips to his cheek again, and Haymitch lets them, brows still furrowed as he takes it in.

“Mm,” they lightly murmur, a tiny upturn of their lips as they glance back at his face. Their eyes held years of memories yet the fondness of novelty. Well, now he might as well give them a kiss back! He doesn’t act happy about it, but Haymitch does begrudgingly lean in to meet their lips for a brief moment. The peck was a little bit firmer than the previous kisses; this was the one Haymitch noticed himself dealing out a lot more with age. It was just easier, that’s what he told himself.

Haymitch watches as they walk back inside the house, presumably to make themselves a drink or to grab a proper jacket.

He liked when they sat to watch the sunset. The sun was already gone tonight, but the sky wasn’t dark enough where the bugs will get them. It was their routine to go in by the time the bugs get out.