I'm so sorry this took forever. Between writer's block (Armin was being incredibly uncooperative) and my laptop dying (yay trying frantically to save my files), it's been kind of a rough chapter. I hope this chapter's enjoyable enough to make up for the wait at least a little bit. *cross fingers*

Here's a little optional music if you want to hear what Annie is later in the chapter. "Kissing You" by Des'ree: youtube…com/watch?v=WLgD8z9vSXY.

Armin didn't know what exactly had happened to make Annie dance the way she did now, but he loved dancing with this new Annie. They moved together like they had in that Viennese Waltz, giving and taking as the music flowed around them. Dancing and choreographing felt so natural now. It was still hard work, but he was enjoying it so much, he'd happily spend all his time with her in the studio if their bodies didn't require food and sleep. And from the compliments they'd been getting from the others, it wasn't just his imagination either. All their hard work was finally starting to pay off!

Unfortunately, their Rumba still wasn't perfect, but it was pretty good, and more importantly, it was done. Since it was their weakest dance, they'd decided to focus on it for six sessions straight. At this point, it was alluring, technically flawless, and visually appealing, but it lacked…well, romance. Which was singularly unfortunate because he knew that spark of romance was just the thing the dance needed to bring it all together into something magic. Both of them were to blame for that lack, he perhaps more than she since he honestly had no idea what it would mean to be in love with Annie of all people, but considering where they'd been a month ago, he'd take it. If practices continued as they had, they'd be able to fake it by the time the benefit came around, he was sure of it. He knew a brother and sister who'd had to dance the Rumba for an exhibition once, and they'd done great despite the palpable awkwardness of their early practices. If those two could do it, they could too.

Which brought them to the Waltz.

The two of them sat cross-legged on the floor of their studio with their music players out, calling out various songs that were met with negative responses for round who knows what of let's pick a song to dance to. It was frankly a travesty that they'd had to go back to picking music with two and a half months left before the benefit, but that morning when they'd started rehearsing what they'd worked out over the last few months, something felt undeniably off. At first, he'd thought it was just that they weren't completely familiar with the dance anymore since they'd had that break, but as they kept going over what they'd choreographed and tried to improve sections that dissatisfied them, it became more and more obvious that the problem wasn't in the steps. There were multiple passes and sequences Armin knew in his bones were perfect for the vision of the dance they'd developed together, but they just weren't meshing right. It took a couple hours since they were both trying so hard to make it work, but eventually, he suggested they find a new song and she'd quickly agreed.

"Ugh." Armin leaned back in exasperation after having yet another song shot down. His brain felt dead, as if it had done a triathlon. This was getting nowhere. How many songs had they gone through by now? At this point, he was ready to use a random number generator just to pick something they could agree to not hate like they had their Rumba.

He lifted his head to suggest it when his eyes fixed on the wisp of gold Annie was tucking behind her ear. Now that he thought about it, he'd never seen her hair free from the confines of its ballerina bun. Even when he'd dragged her with him on random Sundays to go do touristy New York things in the name of building camaraderie, her bangs were cemented firmly to her scalp with bobby pins. He bit his lip and traced the contours of her face, the strand escaping from its place behind her ear and lying softly against her cheek. "I wonder what she'd look like with her hair down." In his mind's eye, a halo of soft, flowing dawn that swept her shoulders lightly tumbled down around her face, her crystalline eyes peeking wordlessly through the flaxen screen of her bangs before lowering back down. His breath caught. "Beautiful."

He blinked then pulled his eyebrows together. "Okay, this is beginning to get weird."

Despite the unattractive ways her face could twist when she was displeased, Annie had always had a certain prettiness about her, he supposed, but until just recently, he'd only ever thought her beautiful when she danced. Her shapes, her flow, her lines—when she danced, she was beauty incarnate. But when she was still—Armin took in the stern hunch of her eyebrows as she grimly searched for a new song—Annie was more handsome than beautiful by most standards. "At least…" he reflected thoughtfully, "she's not beautiful like a model or an actress is." Her face had too many angles to be soft and charming like Krista's; her coloring too light and her features too chiseled to possess the striking mystery and fine quality of Mikasa's; her expression was so often flat or drawn in a negative emotion that struck a sharp contrast to Sasha's refreshing, beguiling nature; her short stature had nothing on Ymir's flawless, mile-long legs; and while she wasn't underdeveloped by any means, her body lacked the full curves Petra possessed. "But…." He watched her finally give up and pin the thread of hair back with an impatient scrunch of her lips. He couldn't deny there was something about Annie.

His eyes traced the features he'd come to know these last few months almost better than any other.

The sharp angles gave her face character and strength. It was a face that inspired confidence. Well, maybe confidence wasn't the right word. No, actually, that sounded about right. As strange as it sounded, thanks to her Spartan, pragmatic personality and her harsh looks, he felt more validated and sure of himself when she sided with him or acknowledged his ideas than he did with other people like Krista who were more soft-hearted. He loved Eren and Mikasa like family and treasured their opinions above anyone else's, but Annie was quickly earning her way into playing a close second. Sometimes she'd push back on him, forcing him to have to explain things in further depth to bring her around to his side, but he kind of liked that. That stern face somehow made him…up his game if that made any sense. And contrary to making him afraid of being shot down, it excited him to know there was someone analyzing right alongside him, challenging him, and drawing the best out of him.

Her light coloring rather than washing her out, set off the pale pink of her lips and ocean shimmer of her eyes. It also highlighted the deep crimson of those flushes of embarrassment that would steal across her razor-edge cheeks like a shooting star against the night. It was adorable, like the red her nose would turn from being out in the cold, though he'd learned the hard way that calling her Rudolph was a one-way ticket to a full-day limp. Her skin was clear and smooth, almost translucent, like a canvas to color at will. His eyes went glassy as he thought of her at the end of a long workout: face stained red, skin glowing, breathing labored as she cooled down…. He instantly dispelled the image with a firm self-scolding. "Keep it together, Arlert." This was his first really big break in a long time. He needed to focus and be professional; if he played his cards right, this gig might lead to other jobs either here or elsewhere. Fantasizing—however briefly—about his dance partners wasn't conducive to any of his objectives.

His face softened when he saw her sigh and take up her thinking pose. She must be trying to remember if she'd suggested that song before. His lips curved up in pride. He liked to think he'd gotten fairly good at reading her. All it had taken was a little attention to detail. While he'd found that Annie could be fairly expressive if one was paying close attention, overt displays of emotion—like those blushes he'd just been thinking about—were so rare, he always felt like he was getting away with something whenever they happened. It was really cute…and fun. Because Annie relinquished the little bits of her that would sneak out so reluctantly, every new expression was a discovery, and the researcher in him didn't dare tear his eyes away for fear of missing something. His inner detective found it fascinating to puzzle out the meaning behind a particular flicker of an eye or shift in posture. Even her flat expressions were never truly neutral; there was always something to niggle out or decipher.

It was charming, like her petite, proportionate build. While dancers tended to be on the shorter side, he figured at least half of the women he'd met were taller or the same height as him, and the numbers only got worse when you put them in heels. Height-wise, Annie was perfect for him, her face always close to his when she slipped into her ballroom heels. Four-inch heels would make her taller than him, but only by like a millimeter, which was really nice for a change. Admittedly their height and weight similarities made lifts a little more complicated, but he'd never been much for lifts anyway. Much to his chagrin, despite doing the same training as Eren, Armin had never been able to build up the same kind of upper body strength as his best friend.

His mind wandered to a semi-lift he wanted to do for their Waltz if they could work it in somehow. First, she'd arabesque, arms gracefully extended, left leg parallel to the floor. Then, he'd catch her from behind and hook her leg around him, spinning them over to a new section of the stage as she slowly turned her body so she could cup his cheek with her hand. He sighed in appreciation as he envisioned the way her torso would press up against his as she arched her back, the curve of her hip fitting snugly against his, creamy throat exposed and gracefully arced, her skirt swirling in the air around her shapely leg as her dainty foot would just barely skim the floor, showing off her slim ankles….

"…min. Armin. Anybody home in there?"

"Huh?" He jerked to attention. "S-sorry, what was that?"

"Did you find a song?"

"Umm, no, sorry. Why do you ask?" he inquired when he saw the touch of confusion in her eyes.

She shrugged. "You were grinning."

He was? He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Something random came to me; that's all." His smile felt a little off.

She frowned, but just nodded in understanding and turned back to her screen.

Armin looked guiltily down at his music player. How long had he been slacking off? They were so behind. This wasn't the time to be losing focus. His eyes sharpened and he gripped the device in determination. He'd make it up to her. He'd find the perfect song, and then—he grinned, thinking about that lift—they'd get to dance together again.

That enthusiasm had flagged after having another ten songs shot down, though. His eyes flicked over to his partner who was scowling as song after song scrolled past her on the screen of her music player. Obviously, he wasn't the only one running out of ideas. He frowned. It'd been awhile since he'd been responsible for eliciting such an unpleasant expression on Annie's face. He didn't like the feeling.

"What's your favorite Waltz song?" he asked abruptly. To his delight, she unexpectedly colored in embarrassment. It was cute.

She averted her eyes and mumbled, "'The Love Theme from Romeo and Juliet.'"

He couldn't help but smile. Annie was so funny sometimes; for some reason, she thought feminine things clashed with her image. He didn't really understand it since she was a dancer of all things, but he supposed everyone had his or her own particular insecurities, so he just tried to be supportive. "That's a fantastic piece of music. Somehow I'm not surprised, though. You seem like a Romeo and Juliet girl."

"Oh?"

"Mmmhmm, it's an achingly romantic, depressing love story with lots of violence. Right up your alley."

"So…I'm violent and depressing," she said dryly.

"And a closet romantic."

"Then am I destined to fall in love with someone I can't be with and commit suicide?" she asked, an ironic slant to her voice.

"I hope not. I'd miss you," he replied honestly.

She stared at him with an unreadable expression for a while before muttering, "Thanks," and looking away.

He frowned and grabbed her hand, tugging it until she met his gaze. "I mean that, Annie. We didn't get along that well at first, but I consider you a good friend now. I'd be heartbroken if you died." He winked and added cheekily, "How else would I find all the good restaurants in the city?"

"I feel so loved." She rolled her eyes and punched him lightly in the arm, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Back on topic, though, do you want to do it?"

"Mmm…since we've already got an instrumental with our Rumba, I kind of want to avoid another one, but we can still do Romeo and Juliet."

"I'm not that crazy about 'A Time for Us,' 'Ai Giochi Addio,' or 'What is a Youth?'" she objected.

"Oh, I didn't mean those. I was thinking of 'Kissing You' by Des'ree." At her blank look, he clarified, "You know, the love theme from the 1996 Romeo + Juliet with Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes?"

She stared at him like he'd grown another head. "Tell me you didn't actually watch that."

"Honestly, I kind of liked it."

She fought back a smile and leveled an even stare at him. "This, right here, is me judging you so hard right now. Who thinks it's a good idea to set a Shakespearean play in modern times and not update the English?"

"Okay, that was admittedly kind of weird," Armin acquiesced.

"And it wasn't even accurate. They saw each other right before Romeo died; how messed up is that?"

"The main points were there." He smiled in bemusement. "For someone who hasn't seen this movie, you seem to know a decent amount about it."

"It was the first half-decent attempt at bringing Romeo and Juliet to film in almost thirty years, people talked."

"You should at least listen to the song and not let your ignorant prejudice get in the way."

She shrugged. "I'll pass."

Armin pouted before suddenly getting a calculating gleam in his eye. "If you don't listen to it now, I'm going to make you watch the movie with me tomorrow."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I know where you live, and I'm sure I could convince your roommate to take pity on me and let me in."

"No." She should've known letting him in that one time so he could use the bathroom would bite her in the butt.

"I'll bring popcorn and Junior Mints. I'll even throw in loaded nachos and some bottles of that fizzy Italian water you like." Her mouth tightened almost imperceptibly and his spirits soared. She was weakening. "I can probably con some mac & cheese for dinner out of Mikasa too." As the words left his lips, he knew he'd won. Annie would rather die than admit it, but Mikasa's mac & cheese was the best. He watched her calmly as she glared at him. "…1…2…3…4—"

"Jerk."

Checkmate. "So you'll watch it with me?" he asked, unable to keep the gloating triumph out of his voice.

"No," she swiped his music player and started searching, "I'll listen to the stupid song."

He wisely hid his self-satisfied smirk and hummed noncommittally. He'd expected as much even if it would've been fun to carry out his threat. He really liked hanging out with Annie. Whether it was dancing, eating, seeing the sights, or doing something as ordinary as stopping at the store on the way home, things somehow just seemed more fun and interesting when she was there.

Once she closed her eyes to better listen to the song, he frowned slightly, the furrow of his brow pensive. That look had surfaced again. Ever since that abnormal café visit, he'd noticed this strange mix of sadness and vexation would flit through Annie's eyes at random times. As a result, he wondered about that day a lot, even thinking about that instead of reading on his way back from dropping her off. What had she been thinking about then? Had she found her answer? Why was it every so often when they were together he'd catch sight of that quickly masked flash of pain? His face darkened. The only time he'd ever seen her look sad was when she'd told him about her deceased mother—it was because of her influence that Annie was a dancer now—but this was different. That sadness had been mellowed by fondness and time; this was raw. Something was wrong right here, right now in the present day, and she was trying to hide it from him. He wished she'd to talk to him about it. He didn't know if he'd be any help, but on and off the dance floor, he wanted her to rely on him.

Not that the likelihood of that was high. Annie was strong and solitary. She'd lost her mother when she was six and had half raised herself as a result. Since her father owned a judo dojo, he didn't have a lot of time to devote to his daughter. Despite that, though, the man seemed to be a good father, making time where he could and providing all the necessities plus some extra. Unfortunately, the dojo didn't do well enough to keep up with all the expenses and cover Annie's dancing, so she'd had to take on part-time jobs to pay for classes and shoes. This along with juggling a good chunk of the housework, helping out at the dojo, and dancing left virtually no time for socializing, only enhancing her naturally withdrawn personality and isolating her from her peers even further. The only chance she really had to make good friends was in dance class, and as unfortunate as it was, Armin knew from experience that in the world of dance, girls could be unbelievably cruel to one another. There was just too much competition for a limited number of positions. Talented, disciplined, and quietly passionate, the only reason Annie hadn't been outright bullied was probably because people had been intimidated by her martial arts background. It was the perfect recipe for someone who shoulders all her burdens by herself. He should know, as her story wasn't all that different from his. He just happened to be more willing to rely on others and had gotten physically bullied in school.

His shoulders sagged. Why would she turn to him? Even he wouldn't turn to him. He was weak, poor, intimidating as a rabbit, and hadn't known her that long. Annie had Bertolt, Reiner, and Mina. What did she need him for? Envy stabbed him in the gut; it was unreasonable and selfish, but no less real. One of them, if not all three of them, probably knew what was wrong. They could help her. They knew what she needed and had the means to provide it. Not like him. All he could do was stand there uselessly and watch her suffer, or maybe try to distract her in what pitiful way he could. He clenched his fists in self-loathing. It was so frustrating that even after all this time he still didn't have the power to help his friends.

"Stop that," he scolded himself. This wasn't about him. Annie was the one who was important here.

His eyes went back to the lithe dancer as she sat with an intent look on her face. "What are you thinking?" he wondered again. He caught a flash of perspective as her eyelashes fluttered and her lips pursed slightly. He was only guaranteed to be around for another couple of months. That probably wasn't even enough time to learn what this expression meant, much less the other one.

"Two and a half months…." The corners of his mouth pulled down solemnly and his eyes went pensive. If anyone had told him during those first couple months of practice that in a few months, he'd be this disappointed at the thought of not getting to work with her anymore, he'd have politely suggested that person admit himself into a mental institution.

He sighed. He didn't like it, but if all he had was two and a half months, then the best course of action was probably to take things slow and continue to show her—deficient and imperfect that he was—that he cared, and leave the heavy lifting to those in Annie's inner circle. Part of him balked at the thought of doing so little, but he knew this was the right course of action. True companionship was something Annie hadn't had much of for much of her life, and he was in a unique position to provide it. His eyes gentled when he noticed her taking his earbuds out. He couldn't give her what the others could, but there were things that he could do, and maybe that was enough.

He put on a smile and scooted closer to her, setting aside his thoughts for another time. "Back to work." "So…?" He looked at her expectantly.

She pursed her lips and looked away. "It doesn't totally suck."

He grinned widely and stood. "Considering the lyrics, I think it would make more sense to start separately. Agreed?"

"I didn't say we could do this song," she complained as she took his hand. He gave her that knowing smirk she inexplicably found simultaneously irritating and outrageously attractive.

"We both know you like it, so just admit it. We'll get more done that way."

She wrinkled her nose in that cute way that made him want to poke the crease between her eyebrows just to see what she'd do.

"Fine, and yes, separate is better. It's Romeo and Juliet."

"Great. There's something I wanted to try out with you first, though."

She nodded and stepped comfortably into his arms, anticipation humming through him as his hands settled on her waist. He couldn't wait to get started.

After they were done, Armin convinced Annie to stop with him for hot chocolate on the way back to her apartment. They'd successfully finished choreographing, and he wanted to celebrate a little. His was gingerbread with marshmallows and hers peppermint with a dab of whipped cream. He closed his eyes and enjoyed her sharp, refreshing flavor before reclaiming his own warmly spiced drink. He laughed as he watched her lick off her marshmallow cream mustache, his eyes dancing impishly when she stuck out her tongue at him. Ever since that day in the café, Annie had taken to wordlessly sharing everything she ate and drank with him even if he'd had it before. It was a pretty sweet deal. His lips turned up in an absent smile as he took her empty cup from her gloved fingers. He'd have to go back there with her sometime. This was some of the best hot chocolate he'd ever had.

"What did you think?" he asked after he threw away their trash.

"The marshmallows made yours too sweet."

"What? Blasphemy. Marshmallows are the best."

"Tell that to your dentist. I could feel the cavities forming with that one sip."

"Were you ever a kid?" he teased. "I'm starting to doubt it since you're unable to appreciate the greatness that is the marshmallow."

"Did you ever grow up?" she threw back. "The only things people really use marshmallows for are s'mores and Rice Krispies Treats."

"Which are also phenomenally delicious."

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "I'm officially tacking your mental age at five-years-old."

"If I'm five…then you won't mind if I do this!" he cried as a snowball whapped her in the arm.

She turned and narrowed her eyes, daring him to do it again. Satisfied after seeing his cowed expression, she continued walking and was promptly pelted with another snowball to the back. She whirled with a death glare. "You want a piece of me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he claimed, the picture of innocence as he sidled up beside her. He linked his arm through hers and began to tug her along. "Come on, we need to get you home. Mina, Bertolt, and Reiner would never forgive me if I let you turn into an Annie-sicle."

Annie eyed him warily, her suspicions only increasing when he smiled charmingly at her. He was up to something. Suddenly, a piercing shriek rent the air as icy fire flamed across her neck, Armin running away with a gleeful laugh.

She fixed him in her sights and brushed the fistful of snow off her neck. "Arlert!" she screeched. "You are so dead!" She took off after him like a shot, scooping snow off the ground and packing it as she ran.

Armin paled when he saw her coming. She looked like the Angel of Death on a rampage with tendrils of hair flying and blazing fire in her eyes. He was dead. He was absolutely dead. Annie Leonhart was going to slaughter him and chop him up into tiny pieces. His only hope was to get to her apartment and hope Mina would have mercy on him. Fleeing for his life, Armin pelted down the sidewalk, slipping and sliding as he dodged Annie's icy bullets, yelping loudly whenever one managed to find its mark. Just short of her door, she tackled him into a snowbank and waged war.

"Stop! Annie! Stop! Oh my gosh, that's so cold! I give! I give! Please, please stop! I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!" he begged as he squirmed beneath her, trying in vain to block and dodge her icy fury. When he realized she wasn't going to let up, he closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate. This was the end….

The assault stopped.

Slowly, he opened one eye, then the other. Annie was hunched over shaking. Concern lanced through him. Did something happen? Was she hurt? He didn't think he'd hit her or anything, but he'd been panicking, so anything was possible. He sat up and gripped her shoulders. "Annie…?"

A fluttery, gasping sound escaped her. Then, it became louder, like the rich peal of bells. She was laughing, completely cracking up and dying on his lap. His lower jaw dropped straight to Antarctica.

She wheezed and snorted as breathing became difficult, her eyes dancing with mirth and her cheeks flushed and rosy. Wiping her eyes, she pushed herself off of him and giggled with an adorable snort, the sound fluttery and reserved. "That'll teach you to mess with the ice queen," she quipped before smiling at him and swiftly running to her apartment so he couldn't retaliate.

In all their time together, he had never seen her smile or laugh. Look amused, yes. Look content, yes. Tilt her lips in approval, yes. Smirk or sniff in thin acknowledgement of his bad jokes, yes. But actually smile or laugh, no. The closest he'd probably ever come to making her laugh was that time he'd made her accidentally spew Ginger Ale out her nose when he dragged her with him, Eren, and Mikasa to Coney Island.

Her smile was understated and minute, but dazzling, like the first ray of sunshine peeking through rain clouds before the light fully breaks through. And he knew then, as all the ordinary, insignificant moments over the last six months crested over him and crashed around his ears, that he was toast.

Whoo-hoo! Feelings are mutual! \(^o^)/

I might get hit for this, but I don't think Annie is really all that pretty. Armin obviously thinks she's pretty, though, so maybe I'm safe. *laughs* Most people can probably agree that Mikasa and Krista are very pretty and are supposed to be considered so. Annie, on the other hand, I think has a different kind of beauty that grows on you, which I tried to show here. I'm afraid I still made Armin too dense, though. *sigh* All I can hope for from this chapter is that Armin came off as a deep thinker and not super emotional. I wish I knew how to properly write men. Thank you to Toto Yoshio for helping with that. It was nice to pick the brain of someone the same age as my characters. =)