look into my eyes (& i'll tell you no lies)
Rating: PG, G? maybe. there's mentions of alkohall.
A/N: Post Mockingjay/war, Haymitch/Katniss w/o spoilers. written for gigglemonster (:
Summary: ask either of them anything and neither will tell you the truth
They go home together, like it’s something they do often.
It’s not.
Because it’s only when she comes to his door and knocks twice and even then, it only happens when he’s not drunk enough to forget where he is.
Never mind that by now she comes four days out of seven instead of once in a while and he doesn’t seem to covet the burn of whiskey down his throat like he used to. It’s not a big deal that she comes around the same time every day and that he makes sure he‘s dressed by the time she comes. Her staying after and him keeping the house clean because of that is nothing to pay any mind to, either.
Ask either of them and neither of them will tell you that going on walks together in what’s left of their home is a typical thing.
(ask either of them anything and neither will tell you the truth)
She won’t tell you that she hates being at home because it’s too big and too empty and every room still reminds her of a ghost that is all too real. She’ll leave out the part where she never sleeps in her bedroom anymore because it’s the one at the far end of the hall, the one that requires passing Prim’s room.
She’ll say she likes the fresh air and she likes to hunt - that being outside is a comforting feeling, so she does it often.
He won’t tell you that he’s worried about her, that she reminds him of that girl he used to love and since he couldn’t protect that girl he’ll protect this one. He never mentions that she makes it easier to put down the bottle because whenever he’s with her, there’s a smaller need to escape from the world.
He’ll pretend he’s too drunk to bother.
But this is something they do often.
Because whenever she knocks on his door a little bit after one, he’s always ready by twelve-thirty. She tilts her head when she smiles and if there’s some inclination in the weather that day she’ll remind him to bring a jacket along before they go. He’s accustomed to pulling her in with an arm and pressing his cheek to her head somewhat affectionately as they start off and she’s grown to relax into his touch. It’s never discussed but they never stray far from the other, walking silently out to the lake that has since regained most of its aesthetic qualities and they stay there until it’s time.
More often than not he ends up carrying her on the way back, so they can go home together.
(whenever he can feel her arms wrap around his neck tighter than necessary and she can smell the scent of coffee on his breath, they know the truth though they’ll never admit it)
A/N: Post Mockingjay/war, Haymitch/Katniss w/o spoilers. written for gigglemonster (:
Summary: ask either of them anything and neither will tell you the truth
They go home together, like it’s something they do often.
It’s not.
Because it’s only when she comes to his door and knocks twice and even then, it only happens when he’s not drunk enough to forget where he is.
Never mind that by now she comes four days out of seven instead of once in a while and he doesn’t seem to covet the burn of whiskey down his throat like he used to. It’s not a big deal that she comes around the same time every day and that he makes sure he‘s dressed by the time she comes. Her staying after and him keeping the house clean because of that is nothing to pay any mind to, either.
Ask either of them and neither of them will tell you that going on walks together in what’s left of their home is a typical thing.
(ask either of them anything and neither will tell you the truth)
She won’t tell you that she hates being at home because it’s too big and too empty and every room still reminds her of a ghost that is all too real. She’ll leave out the part where she never sleeps in her bedroom anymore because it’s the one at the far end of the hall, the one that requires passing Prim’s room.
She’ll say she likes the fresh air and she likes to hunt - that being outside is a comforting feeling, so she does it often.
He won’t tell you that he’s worried about her, that she reminds him of that girl he used to love and since he couldn’t protect that girl he’ll protect this one. He never mentions that she makes it easier to put down the bottle because whenever he’s with her, there’s a smaller need to escape from the world.
He’ll pretend he’s too drunk to bother.
But this is something they do often.
Because whenever she knocks on his door a little bit after one, he’s always ready by twelve-thirty. She tilts her head when she smiles and if there’s some inclination in the weather that day she’ll remind him to bring a jacket along before they go. He’s accustomed to pulling her in with an arm and pressing his cheek to her head somewhat affectionately as they start off and she’s grown to relax into his touch. It’s never discussed but they never stray far from the other, walking silently out to the lake that has since regained most of its aesthetic qualities and they stay there until it’s time.
More often than not he ends up carrying her on the way back, so they can go home together.
(whenever he can feel her arms wrap around his neck tighter than necessary and she can smell the scent of coffee on his breath, they know the truth though they’ll never admit it)