Chapter Text
Even I’m having trouble holding onto focus as Effie drones on again about the order of ceremony for the first stop on our victory tour. I can see Katniss has completely tuned out by the far off expression on her face.
“And for the reception, of course, they’re serving a beautiful seven course meal and then you will be called on to open up the dancing”
My eyes snap up. Damn it. Dancing? Did I miss something? I was a clumsy enough dancer before they sliced off half my leg - how am I going to manage a do-si-do now?
“What kind of dances are we supposed to be doing, Effie? I’m not sure how much I can manage on this leg” I try to keep my voice measured and not raise an alarm, but can’t help thinking painfully of trying to bound around with one leg and making a complete fool of myself. It wasn’t enough to bare my deepest secrets on live television - now I can fall flat on my face in banquet halls all across Panem…great!
Unfortunately no calm demeanour could have staved off a reaction from Effie at my daring to question.
“What - what kind of dances? What do you mean Peeta?” She practically wails. “The waltz? Rumba? Maybe a foxtrot?”
Katniss actually lets out a giggle at this. “Fox Trot?” She repeats with disbelief.
Effie now seems incapable of speaking at all and simply lets out a squeak before shrieking “HAYMITCH!”
“What kind of dances DO you know?” Effie squeaks in anguish.
Katniss jumps up with a sparkle in her eye and begins to hum a melody I’ve heard a thousand times, performing the steps to an upbeat dance I’ve seen her do before at Harvest festival. My stomach flips at the sight of her, happy, beautiful as ever in sweats and a messy braid. After a few flourishing turns, she holds out her hand and wiggles her eyebrows at me - an invitation to join her. I can feel myself actually grinning too, despite the horror before me, but before I can respond Haymitch stumbles into the car looking a bit cross eyed. “What in the world” he slurs.
“They don’t know how to dance!! Katniss’ prep starts in two hours and they don’t know how to dance!” Says Effie, totally immune to the lightness that’s overtaken the room.
“Sounds like a personal problem honey…” he says turning to leave.
“You. Will. Not. Leave. This. Car. Until. You’ve. Helped. Me!” She insists, physically pulling him back to Katniss’ continued giggles.
She’s stopped dancing now, but still - I can’t help but smile at the joy in her eyes. We have so little to be joyful about lately and if dancing lessons with Effie and Haymitch are helping, I’ll dance until dawn.
Haymitch looks thoroughly sour, but seems to be just drunk enough to be somewhat pliable to Effie's demands. First they demonstrate, then make us try. Predictably, Katniss catches on to the dances quickly and moves with lightness and grace, I am clumsy as fuck and constantly stepping on her toes.
She doesn’t seem to mind. She's still smiling at the way Haymitch is rolling his eyes and Effie looks like she may explode at this last minute interruption to her perfect schedule.
“Sorry!” I sigh, for what feels like the 500th time as we attempt the Rumba very badly.
“Stop apologizing!” She says, with a timid half smile up at me. “It’s my fault you’ve got to navigate that thing” she continues in a whisper, nodding to my prosthetic with a frown, “you’ve barely had time to learn to walk let alone dance! Want to slow down a bit until you get the steps?”
“You’re going to need a new foot by the end of this - then we can be even” I joke back with a grin.
She’s not entirely right about the nature of my ineptitude - true, the prosthetic doesn’t help matters and I’ve always been a bit clumsy - but if I had to guess, I’d say my lack of dancing prowess seems to be more of a mental problem than a physical one.
Being so close to her again is just so damn distracting - every touch seems to tingle with electricity, and something about the way she looks up at me makes my knees go weak. Just friends. I say to myself. You’re just friends. But I can’t help how my body is reacting to her. Unlike the dances we do at home during New Years or Harvest Festivals, these dances are slow and she’s standing so close. Every brush brings to mind those days huddled up in the cave - the way she curled up next to me or sighed in her sleep. Focus Peeta I scold myself as I step on her toe again.
A few more times practicing the Rumba and I’m off the hook as Katniss needs to go for prep. But as we part ways, I feel the absence of her hand in mine and find myself replacing my earlier dread with an excitement to get back to dancing…