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lenoredovesbairds · 4 months ago

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I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!

Spring fields

haydove [haymitch abernathy x lenore dove]

summary: haymitch and lenore dove sneak out to the meadow to have a date, but lenore dove has something on her mind. lots of haymitch being loverboy number one.

warnings: fluff, canon-typical violence mentions, one (?) swear word, haymitch being head over heels, pre-sotr or sotr never happened (you choose)

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this is my first fic in like 2 years and my first fic for the hunger games! i’ve never read thg/sotr in english so i have no clue if that’s how haymitch talks like lmao. also i wanted to post this on ao3 but turns out you need an invitation to create an account so.

When I finally finish up helping Hattie, the sun is setting and the heat is disappearing right with it. It’s almost a miracle, considering how scorching hot today is.

Making my way through District 12, ashy and ugly even in the prettiest sunset, I have only one thing on my mind. The only one that could make this day bearable. The one who could turn any nightmare into a daydream and any gray into a rainbow.

My girl.

Truth be told, Lenore Dove is the one occupying my mind the entire day. I recon Hattie might have said something about me being so in my head she bet I was thinking about my girl, but I didn’t quite catch that. Probably because I was thinking about my girl.

Guilty as charged, I guess.

As I approach the gate of the District, about to cross it and enjoy the blind feeling of freedom again, I suddenly stop in my tracks.

I probably look shitty.

Lenore Dove is always so radiant and beautiful, so effortlessly charming in the way she dresses, braids her hair, moves, talks, and sings. Every little thing about her makes my head spin. The way she bunches up her skirt when she jumps over the puddles of mud near the lake. The way she blows the hair out of her mouth when the wind forces it between her lips. The way she only has one dimple, on the right, when she laughs at my stupid jokes.

And here I am, straight out of Hattie’s place where I make alcohol illegally. I probably smell like it, and the heat of today is not helping either. I can feel that my hair is messy. I can practically see the curls sticking out, every single one in a different direction of the world. I should go and change.

Sighing, I turn around. It’s not my favorite idea. Ma and Sid are probably home and I don’t wanna tell them I just finished helping with the illegal production of alcohol so now I’ll illegally sneak out to the meadow to see my girlfriend. And, according to Clerk Carmine, having Lenore Dove as my girlfriend is illegal too, so I’m a full blown criminal, I will be hung tomorrow and blah blah blah.

Anyway, Ma would not be happy.

I’m about to sigh again when I hear a quiet rustling of skirts behind me. Turning around I’m met with the prettiest green eyes the world has been blessed with.

"Lenore Dove," I say gently, my hands immediately finding her waist.

"Hi, Haymitch," she smiles and stands on her tiptoes to peck my nose.

Oh, what have I done to deserve her?

I kiss her gently, holding her in my arms, the soft fabric of her white shirt flowing between my fingers. She’s heaven and sweetness and I lose myself in the lovely feeling until I remember we’re standing in the middle of a walkway, some people glaring at us disapprovingly.

Very, very reluctantly I let go of her lips, but I keep her pressed against me, my nose touching the apple of her flushed cheek as I speak. "Sorry, darling. I was going to the meadow when I realized I probably look awful. Wanted to clean up and change before seein’ you," I brush her cheek with the back of my hand. "You deserve someone a bit more… groomed."

She looks up at me, gaze lingering on my eyes, my cheeks, nose, lips, the freckles on my neck. She’s squinting because she’s facing the sun, but I recognize that she scrunches her nose not because of the light, but because she’s unhappy with what I said.

"Don’t you dare," she speaks lowly and somehow her smooth, honey-coated voice turns into a really threatening murmur. "You will not be putting yourself down, Haymitch," she declares strongly, taking my hand. "Let’s go."

I have no time to protest when she starts pulling me towards the gate and under it. Where she took her sudden force from remains a mystery to me. I’ve always been aware of her resilience. The physical side of it, though, is a novelty.

But I let myself be dragged, because why would I ever defy Lenore Dove’s will? I try to explain I was joking and I could smell the booze from my hair, but she steals a quick kiss to shut me up and then continues to pull me into the meadow. I am stunned at first, but then a smile spreads on my lips and I start rambling in hope she will kiss me again. She sees right through me, of course, my smart girl, so she only sends me a sideway look.

"You’ll clean up in the lake, if you must."

And that shuts me up for good, because my shy love rarely suggests a swimming session together. Now that I think about it, she’s never done it before.

It’s clear she’s in a mood today. I’m not very sure what kind of mood, but something riled her up. She’s as stunning as always, but she has a sharper edge to her, a sparkle of fierce determination in her eyes that I see only when the Capitol is involved.

Another reason why I’m the proudest boyfriend in the world: my girl will not let any rich people propaganda get to her head. She will fight it too — sometimes with her music, sometimes with some paint. And even though she doesn’t tell me everything, she doesn’t have to. I know. I’m worried to death, but I’m just as proud.

When we finally reach the meadow, it’s full of colorful flowers and the trees are covered in green. I can’t help but take it all in. A few days ago nature was still grayish and now it’s full of life again.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" I hear Lenore Dove’s voice as she drops my hand to reach for the violets growing beneath our feet. It seems she was thinking about the same thing.

I nod in response. Even though she’s not facing me and can’t see it, I know she knows.

"They always grow back," she says softly, almost as if she was talking to herself. "No matter how harsh the winter is and how much snow lands on top of them. They always grow back when the time comes. Full of colors. As if nothing happened."

At first I think I don’t follow, like most times when Lenore Dove gets a bit existential with me. She’s got a sharp mind, that one. Full of old poems and banned songs and these philosophers she tells me about, the ones she shouldn’t know. This time though, the meaning is as clear as it could be.

I crouch down next to her. She’s still looking at the flowers.

"Lenore Dove? What’s on your mind, darling?"

"Do you think we’ll be able to grow back too? One day?" She looks at me with eyes full of bitterness.

I don’t know, I want to say. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t like giving myself false hope.

Every time I let my mind wander it leaves me devastated. I let my head get filled with dreams so unrealistic I’m ashamed I even dared to think about them. No matter how they start, they always end with Lenore Dove and me, somewhere in a cabin in the woods or in the meadow. We have some wrinkles and graying hair. In my bravest moments there are children running around, each one happy and safe and well fed and carefree, like children should be. But it hurts too much to go back to reality.

Instead, I blurt out something without thinking.

"Maybe. When the time’s right."

She furrows her brows and I’m afraid I said something wrong, but she nods as if I discovered a new planet or something.

"Like how flowers bloom when it’s spring," she rolls it off her tongue in a way it sounds like a question.

"Yeah," I shrug. I have no clue if that’s what I meant.

"We have to wait for spring."

I blink. "I guess."

I know there is uncertainty in my voice, an awkwardness. I’m not good with words like she is. She doesn’t comment on it, though, just drops the violets and curls her fingers around mine.

"I love you like all-fire," she smiles warmly, eyes shining with heavy feelings under her thick lashes. Lenore Dove is clearly emotional today, quickly jumping from sadness to frustration to happiness. I want to understand, but sometimes she doesn’t want me to. And that’s alright with me. She can keep her mysteries as long as she knows I’m here if she ever wants to reveal them.

Usually I’m not sure how to respond to her. But this? This is the easiest and most natural line for me.

"I love you like all-fire too."

***

We venture further into the vast greenness. After a few minutes Lenore Dove’s geese come running to her, nipping her calves and the hem of her skirt to show how much they missed her. Even though she’s been gone for a merely day.

They’re just like me.

When it comes to her mood, I don’t press. I know she will tell me soon with the looks she sends me, full of wonder and unspoken questions. So I intertwine our fingers and stroke her hand with my thumb.

We walk in silence as we’re reaching the lake and these moments of quiet affection are very dear to me. It’s like we weave into one whenever we’re near, like some invisible force connects us and words are too trivial to use, too literal. All it takes is a touch of our hands, a brush of our shoulders, the low hum of our breathing and the ruffle of leaves — that’s all we need to tell each other a story. I see a branch beneath her feet that she doesn’t notice — because Lenore Dove always holds her head high — and I squeeze her fingers once to communicate that. One look up is enough to comment on how pretty the green canopy of trees is over our heads. One brush of her other hand over my bicep is enough to know she’s teasing me about something.

One look to the left is enough to know we’ve reached the lake.

I snort giddily. "You’re really gonna make me do this?"

"You asked for it. Wanted it so much you deemed it more important than meeting me," she shrugs, letting go of my hand and poking my side to push me forward.

"Ouch!" I laugh. "Nothing is more important than you," I turn to her with the biggest eyes I think I can make.

"Uh-huh, okay," she nods to hide her smile. "No smooth talkin’ and pretty eyes. Jump in. I know you want to."

Something about her being unusually teasing and confident is making my stomach twist in a scarily nice way, so I pull my shirt off.

"Your wish is my command, miss."

I take off my pants and jump right in, making sure a little bit of water splashes on her brown, knee-long skirt. When I hear a gasp and hushed giggles, I know I succeeded.

"Come here, darling," I pull my arms out towards her.

Lenore Dove sits down on the grass right next to me and takes off her shoes, then thin white socks. She’s all flushed and her face is dewy from the hotness of the day. Her long hair is messy, the wind sending each strand somewhere else. It glistens in red when the remains of the orange sun hit her from behind. She looks like an angel.

"I’ll stay here," she says softly, her voice small.

I nod and swim as closely as I possibly can, to be right in front of her. She scoops her skirt up a few inches so that I can rest my elbows at each side of her and my hands on her thighs. She squeaks that my hands are cold, but I threaten I will start tickling her, so she stops.

I look up at her, my gorgeous, sweetest girl, and I want to say something, but she beats me to it.

"I saw a young boy being whipped today morning."

"Again?" I ask. It’s the third time this week. "How young?"

"I don’t know, but he was tiny. Around ten maybe."

Fuck.

Whipping is a practice enforced by the Peacekeepers, but kids usually weren’t a part of it. Until last month when it happened for the first time. This is so messed up. This could’ve been Sid…

Everything that happens here in Panem is messed up. Sometimes all of it — the violence, the anger, the hatred, the propaganda — overflows my senses and my brain and I go crazy a little. Usually it happens each reaping, but I feel it coming now too. A wave of heat hits me, my stomach turning inside out and it makes me feel sick.

Lenore Dove takes one of my hands and squeezes. She doesn’t wait for my comment. There’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been said.

"If I wasn’t meeting you here, I would have done something. Anything. I was just scared I’d get arrested and I promised you this date. But I was so angry. I still am. I might still…" her voice trails off and she’s thinking about something intensively.

"We need more people than just you and me and a few other folks. They’d hang us and that’s it," I console her lowly.

She sighs heavily and normally she would argue that at least she would’ve done something, but she stays silent this time. Instead she turns to some long plant that grows around the lake, the one that Lenore Dove calls swamp potato or arrowhead or something like that. She traces the leaves with her fingers, her brows furrowed.

"We’re waiting for our spring."

I duck down to place a small peck on her knee. She immediately turns her attention to me, face clearer now than when she was lost in thought a second ago. She smiles, unconvinced, but the smile is real. I take her cheeks and pull her down to steal some more kisses from her pretty face.

She laughs uncertainly, then catches my lips and sighs in my mouth, and her fingers get lost in my curls.

I don’t know when our spring will come or if it will at all. What I do know is that the real spring is here already and if I can take Lenore Dove’s mind off of sadness and anger for only a second, I will do that without a second thought.

Spring is my favorite time of year. It’s not scary and unrelenting like winter, not as depressing as fall, and not as cruel as summer which steals two kids from each district a year. Spring is perfect. I wish we had spring all year long. I wish Lenore Dove enjoyed it, grasping the fleeting moments of carefree fun. I wish that one day she could witness the spring she’s waiting for.

#haydove #haymitch x lenore dove #lenore dove #haymitch #i love them so much #my babies

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