Author's Note: Yes. It's been ages. I'm sorry. But I am updating now. So it's okay. (Sort of.)

Back to Cass

I had a very good dream while I rested. It was actually a memory. You only dream about memories in books and movies, but for the first time in my life, I remembered while I was sleeping.

Loki and I were trapped in that dank cellar. It was right after we first met and I saved his life. We were unable to escape, but not chained. I was bored. I'd paced back and forth about five hundred times trying to relax my mind or provide some sort of inspiration as to what I should be doing. So far nothing amazing had come up. And if Loki snarked me one more time I was going to reach my hand into his throat and rip it out—okay, maybe that was a little much.

"Alright!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. I hadn't said anything in about six hours, so I had no idea what he was talking about. We hadn't even argued. I turned to look at him with a skeptical expression on my face. Like what's going on now?

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I can't stand watching you pace. You have traced that same line five hundred and fifty five times. I'm done!" he said. Pushing himself to his feet, he faced me square on. It wasn't exactly difficult to notice that he was a foot taller than me and really handsome. I would never admit that to anyone should they ask, but he was. Another confused look was what he got from me. He lifted one of his hands. I shied away.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. He rolled his eyes and took both of my hands in his. I noticed that his fingers were long, pale white, and spidery compared to my own sort-of-chubby tan ones.

"I'm teaching you to dance, Fireball," he replied.

"I know how to dance," I retorted. My family had taught me for years.

"Okay, but do you know how to do this?" He spun me—not letting go of my hands—under his arm so my back was pressed against chest and my arms were crossed under my ribcage so he could hold both. I smirked widely as his heart pounded against my shoulder.

"I do know that move actually," I replied matter-of-factly.

Loki let go of my right hand and spun me out. "How about this one?" A gleam of mischief sparked in his eye. Very quickly, he switched sides so his right hand and my right hand were holding onto each other. He spun me under his arm and kept me moving until he had me in a hold like how police hold a man's arm twisted behind his back and pushed my spin even more until our chests were pressed together, my arm was trapped behind my back, and my other was holding his shoulder. He dipped me over his leg and held me there. But I'd kept up perfectly and hadn't even been twisted uncomfortably. I smirked even wider than before. My hair was dangling down to the floor and our faces were only a few inches apart.

"I know that one too," I answered cheekily. He popped me up with both arms and his knee and spun me out to arm's length again, switching back to left-and-right grip.

"Impressive. Know any lifts?"

"Just one." I let go of his hand and took a step forward, resting my arm across his back. He anticipated my move and held out his other hand for me to grab. I did and jumped, tucking my legs under me. I landed on his leg nearest me (on purpose), holding one of his hands with my other over his shoulders. He put his free arm on my shoulder and launched me off the opposite side I'd jumped on.

"Wow. Did you take lessons?"

"Swing Club at school," I replied with a grin. "So… no not really."

"Who was your partner, the instructor?" I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

I shrugged. "Usually, yeah. We had an odd number of people so I usually stood there awkwardly until he had a second to practice with me." What I didn't tell him I was always the loner anyway. I didn't have a lot of friends. The few I did have were tight-knit, but I wasn't popular. I didn't mind being the one to stand out of the way and let everyone else have fun and wait for my turn—even if it took a while. I didn't think he needed to know all that, so I kept my trap shut.

He wanted to teach me another lift. "Do you trust me not to drop you?" he asked.

"If you're strong enough, I trust you," I replied.

A grin lit up his face. "If you trust me, I'm strong enough." My eyes narrowed.

"Don't speak in flip-flops with me, mister," I snapped. "I'll snap your neck."

"I'd like to see you try." He grabbed my waist and heaved me into the air. I shrieked out of shock and surprise as he lifted me over his head and set me on his shoulders. How he'd done it without me first jumping said something about his strength.

"Now, love, stick your left leg out straight," he instructed me. "When I twist right, you're going to fall down to your left—keeping your leg straight, mind you—and twist as well. I'll catch you." I did as he commanded—more to get down than anything else, and dropped when he twisted his body. His hand was between my legs on the small of my back, and I jumped off of him immediately.

"Not bad—for an old man," I joked. He laughed.

"Not too bad yourself—for a child."

I kept swinging with him, smiling and mostly matching him move-for-move. And if I'm honest, that was the first moment we became friends. That was when we bonded. I may have saved his life pulling him away from a tour bus, but we started to feel a connection trapped in a dark cellar. Dancing.

I woke up to green leaves and pain in my lower abdomen. It had turned to irritating throbbing instead of agonizing lances.

Peter was sitting on the edge of the mattress, holding a cloth full of ice to my sweaty forehead. Apparently he'd changed my bandages too because they were all clean with no brown spots where the blood had leaked through. No matter how much I tried to not rip the scabbed injury, it still managed to bleed. He grinned at me when he saw I was awake. "Good morning, Fire," he greeted. I managed to get a polite but tired grin to tug up the corners of my mouth.

"Is it morning? I hate mornings."

"No matter. You're well enough to explore more of the island."

Remembering my dream, I rested my hand on his forearm. "Before we do that, I'm going to teach you a few dance moves."

"What for?"

"Fun."

End Note: If you can't tell, I love dancing. And since I wrote this chapter AGES ago, I now know many many more moves and tricks than the ones I wrote about in this chapter. In fact, I was almost dropped once doing one of them (not my fault).

Thanks for reading!

~Cass