Thin Flesh (Haymitch Abernathy X OC)

Protected

🎶Bloom by The Paper Kites🎶

"Oh you fill my lungs with sweetness, and you fill my head with you."

I laid dying in the dirt. My blood had been pooling around me, my neck slit from ear to ear. I gagged and gasped for air as I glance up at Vaylor and Asy. Vaylor was staring back at me with a look of hurt and confusion. He had chosen his district partner, his horrible district partner over being a good person.

"V-Vaylor." I choke, trying to reach my hand out to him.

The afternoon sun was glowing behind him. He looked so handsome, so pained to be watching me die. He furrowed his brows and seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.

"Please..." I beg.

Asy takes a dagger to my reaching hand, stabbing through it into the dirt beneath me. My hand was now pinned to the ground. I curled my fingers around the daggers handle. The sensation was only faint, and I was realizing my body had gone into shock. I laid there, limp, before finalizing my last breath.

Again, I awake in a sweat. Only this time the dream wasn't a hot Haymitch dream. It was me, dying in the games.

"Dammit." I sigh out into my empty room.

I swing the blankets off of me and make my way into the living area. I sat in the darkness and stared at the glow of the capitol outside of our large floor to ceiling windows.

The room was quiet, but I could hear myself chewing at the skin of my thumb. Just when I thought I was alone, I suddenly hear ice dropping into a glass. I jump at the sound and whip around to look at the time on the large grandfather clock behind me. It was 1am, and here Haymitch was, fixing himself a drink.

"Tough time sleeping, sweetheart?" He asks quietly to not wake the others.

I pick at the fabric of the couch, "yeah. I dreamt the only person I might form an alliance with killed me. Well, watched me die. He let it happen though." I say while running my hands down my face.

Haymitch approaches me and hands me the drink he had just made.

"This wasn't for you?" I ask, taking it into my hand with a chuckle.

I watch as he shrugs, "I thought we could share."

I nod and take a large gulp. This time it tasted like tequila and lime. A refreshing change up from his usual dark liquor. I hand it back to him as our fingers meet. I could feel myself blush, thinking back to the good dream I had a few nights back.

Haymitch relaxes into the couch, leaning back and setting his arm along it... around me.

"You scored a 9. A lot of people are going to value that, and want you on their good side. Regardless of whether or not some jerk stabs you in the back, you can clearly hurt someone. Only if you have to, and want to. I'm not going to tell you to just kill people anymore. You're a good person, Tilula. I mean, most of us tributes and victors are... but something about being here, being in the games, it changes people. We sacrifice ourselves, either physically or mentally. I think the best game plan, for you and Patrix, is staying safe and hidden. Don't go into the cornucopia, don't even grab a bag if it's close by, find a really good spot to camp essentially for the week. It's not the best strategy but, a strategy nonetheless that could very well keep you both alive. I'll make sure your sponsors take care of you guys with food, water, medicine if necessary. I don't know that it'll work but, I think that's the option you'd both prefer."

I smile over to him, "you've given it some thought, finally?"

"What can I say? I got attached again." He says, clenching his jaw a bit.

"Me, too. It's been a while since I felt this kind of... closeness. Family or otherwise."

"Otherwise, huh?" Haymitch laughs, taking a swig of his tequila.

"I- yeah. I'm not entirely sure what I meant by that." I say, furrowing my brows and laughing a bit.

Haymitch places the drink in my hand again before nodding,

"I can get what you meant. I think about it sometimes when I look at you, too."

The tequila suddenly goes down the wrong tube and my chest burns as I cough up the clear liquid.

Haymitch laughs, rubbing and patting my back as I hack up a lung.

"Hey, no reason to be embarrassed. It's natural, sweetheart."

I wipe some of the dribble from my bottom lip and shake my head. My head was now pounding.

"Booze down the wrong tube hurts." I say softly, holding my palm to my forehead.

I feel Haymitch take the glass from my hand and set it down before pulling me into his chest and laying us down on the couch.

His eyes are closed while mine are wide open. What the hell was he doing?

One of his hands snakes around my waist while the other rests behind his head.

"Get some rest, Tilula. I'll keep your dreams safe. If not you can wake up and stab me. A little pay back."

I feel his belly move against my chest as he lets out a strained laugh. He's clearly tired, maybe a little delusional and definitely pretty buzzed. The man must've been drinking all night.

His thumb gently rubs against my hip bone and, while feeling some semblance of comfort, I let myself melt into him. I place my hand beside my face on his chest while I nuzzle into his shirt.

"Is this appropriate?" I hum slightly into the cotton fabric at my lips.

I feel Haymitch shrug, my eyes now closing to mirror his.

"Nothing in the rules saying I can't make sure my tributes feel protected."

I smile slightly and let out a small, breathy chuckle.

"Are we even on the same page?"

I suddenly feel his hand squeeze my hip tightly, causing me to jolt slightly further up his body.

"Pretty sure, sweetheart. Just not smart. Please, get some rest. Interviews are tomorrow." Haymitch mumbles, his voice clearly growing strained from exhaustion.

I nod and focus on my breathing, on his body heat. Were we into each other? And in what capacity? I tried not to let the thoughts cloud my mind too much, and tried only to embrace the moment.

Just as I can feel myself drifting back to sleep, Haymitch lowers his head to plant a soft kiss into my hair. I grip tightly onto his shirt before nuzzling into him further and finally getting some really solid, straight through the night, no weird dream sleep.