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Annie wakes up to a crash sounding distantly in the house.

It’s a testament to her recovery that she doesn’t sprint right out of bed looking for the nearest weapon. She does place a gentle hand over her racing heart and take a few deep breaths. The other side of the bed is empty, and the morning sun bathes the sheets in a warm glow. Finnick is noticeably absent.

She approaches the doorway of their bedroom and peers down the hall. “Finnick?”

“I’m fine!” he calls from somewhere downstairs. “You don’t have to come in here!”

Annie huffs an exasperated laugh. Of course she’s going to follow him now that he’s said that. She returns to the room and pulls her bathrobe over her shoulders because her sudden departure from the bed has left her a little cold. Then she descends the stairs and follows the sound of Finnick’s voice. 

He’s in a sitting room that they never use because they both believe that a house only needs one sitting room and anything more is excessive and weird. The couches have been pushed back against the walls, leaving an empty space in the middle of the room. And then there’s Finnick, sitting on the floor and prodding at his ankle with a disappointed frown. 

“Annie,” he gasps when he sees her, like he’s delightfully surprised every time she enters his field of vision. “Do you know how to dance?”

“Sure,” she says, joining him on the floor. “Is there a reason you’re trying to dance at six in the morning?”

“Well, for one, I couldn’t sleep,” he begins, which is easily believable and something of an issue for them both, “and two, the Capitol wants me to go on some celebrity dancing competition show and I only have a week to learn the dance.”

“Oh,” says Annie with understanding. “Well, I can try to help you.”

Finnick stands up and extends his hand to her, which she takes. “Would you like to dance with me?”

In another life, this would be a date. They’d be out somewhere in public, eating delicious food and laughing together with no concern over who could see them. They could hold hands or even kiss if they wanted, and nobody would stare or whisper. But it’s six in the morning and Finnick is sleep deprived and Annie’s in her bathrobe and this is the life they have. 

“I’d love to,” she says, and he pulls her to her feet.

He’s been sent a video of the choreography, which they both pretend to understand. The first few steps are easy to replicate, but she soon understands why Finnick asked for her help in the first place. “Finnick, you’re stepping on my toes.”

He grins. “Uh, yeah, that’s my artistic expression.”

Annie tries to keep a straight face because she doesn’t enjoy having her toes stepped on, but she ends up cracking a smile anyway. 

“Try moving to the beat of the music,” she suggests after another few minutes of trial and a lot of error. 

“I am.”

She blinks. “Finnick, I don’t think there’s any way you’ll become great at dancing in one week.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t need to be great at dancing. Actually, I can be very mediocre as long as I look beautiful.”

“Mediocre might be a stretch, too.”

“Annie,” he gasps, affronted. “I really don’t appreciate this slander. Plus, you said you could help me.”

“The dance is harder than I thought,” she explains. “I don’t know how to do the steps.”

That’s true, and unlike Finnick, she has no problem admitting it. She’s probably better than Finnick in that she has some understanding of how music and movement should work together, but Annie’s not a real dancer. No one from the Capitol is inviting her to perform on celebrity dancing shows, and she’d deny the invitation if they did. 

“I thought you were a dancing expert,” Finnick says.

Annie laughs. “I never said I was good at dancing. You just assumed that about me.”

Finnick sighs. “Maybe I’ll tell them I’m really good at dancing and I totally know the choreography, but I suddenly sustained a horrible injury. Would you do me a favor and stab me or something?”

“Maybe another time,” says Annie, biting back a laugh. “But no, quitting’s for cowards. When’s the last time you danced just, like, for fun?”

Finnick’s brows furrow. “Before my Games, probably.”

“Okay, so just forget the dumb Capitol dance.” She reaches for his hand and leads them both to the center of the room. “Let the music play and just…do whatever you want.”

He seems unconvinced. “Will that make me a good dancer?”

Annie shrugs. “It can’t possibly make you a worse one.”

The music is slow and smooth, and so too are his movements. But they both do a little better when they’re not trying to emulate the Capitol dancers in the video. By the time the song has reached its peak, they’re standing with their arms around each other, swaying slightly. Her bathrobe may as well be a fancy coat, and their sitting room a grand ballroom.

They’re so close together that she can feel Finnick’s breath on her neck as he speaks. “This is the best dance I’ve ever had.”

Annie smiles. They’re hardly even moving anymore, but she’s inclined to agree. “Do you feel like a better dancer yet?”

“I’m going to win the whole damn show,” he asserts. It’s so full of confidence that Annie can’t help but laugh. 

Eventually they move to the kitchen to get breakfast and coffee started. It’s still early, but a few victors are already awake. From the kitchen window, Annie can see Dylan in his garden and Nerissa reading a book on the porch. “So who else is competing in this show anyway?”

“They’re doing a victor episode,” Finnick says, his back to her as he pours them both coffee in misshapen mugs that he made himself. “Aside from me, it’s Enobaria, Gloss, Cashmere—”
He turns around, eyes wide as if he just realized something. “Wait, Cashmere’s talent was literally ballet! This is so unfair. How am I supposed to win the whole show?”

“Maybe Cashmere’s the one who sustains a horrible injury,” Annie suggests, taking a sip of her coffee. It’s not cool enough yet so it burns on the way down. “Then all you’d have to do is beat everyone else.”

“Easy,” Finnick agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before joining her at the table. “Just to be safe, though, could you stab everyone except me?”

“I’ve actually sworn off stabbing people in order to win celebrity dancing competition shows,” Annie says apologetically. “I’ll still help you practice, though.”