Well, here it is, folks! Part two of the Strictly Ballroom series! Enjoy!

NOTE: "Quando" is spelled with a "q" because it is Italian, not Spanish.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, because I'm not Kubo-sensei. The bleach I own keeps my whites white.

Hitsugaya Toushiro stared at the schedule taped to his locker door in disbelief. With a soft growl, he tore it off and stalked out of the men's locker room and down the hallway past a gaggle of high school girls who giggled and scattered at his approach. Ignoring them, he continued on until he found the door he was looking for.

"Ukitake," he said, without even bothering to knock. "What the hell is this?"

Ukitake Jyuushiro, co-owner of the 8/13 Dance Studio, looked up from his desk and blinked. "What is what, Hitsugaya-kun?"

"This." The white-haired young man with the shocking teal eyes slammed the piece of paper onto the desk.

Hiding a smile behind an elegant hand, Ukitake perused the paper carefully. "It's your rotation for the next quarter. Is there a problem with it?"

"Why am I teaching a class?"

"Hitsugaya-kun, I'm sure you're aware that we require all of our senior dancers to teach a class. It's a way to keep your membership fees down. I talked it over with Shunsui, and we agreed that you're ready to take on a class." He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, brown eyes dancing. "It's quite a good system, as I'm sure you're already aware."

The older man's speech had taken a great deal of steam from Hitsugaya's temper. "Yes, but," he said, trying to remain polite. "If I'm to teach a class, why is it the wedding class?"

"Because it's the easiest to teach, Hitsugaya-kun. Also, you will be teaching it with Rangiku-chan."

"Why?" He grimaced. He already spent enough time with Matsumoto as it was.

The wedding class was easily the most popular program offered at the 8/13 studio. Brides and grooms always had to have a first dance at their weddings, and many were not content with simply swaying back and forth – yet they did not want to fully commit to ballroom dancing. Thus the wedding class was created so as to teach newlyweds how to put on a spectacular dance for their wedding – without the commitment. Lessons continued to be taught every quarter due to demand from the students and the teachers – because it was fun.

And fun was the name of the game. Ukitake adored his doppelganger, really. But he was so damned straight-laced and polite that he worried about him. What Hitsugaya Toushiro needed, he thought decisively, was to relax, loosen up, and most of all, enjoy life. Ukitake feared that the handsome young man had no idea what the word really meant.

"Oh, just because. You're partners, and work well together, so why not?" he said gaily. Besides, if there was anyone who could possibly make Hitsugaya Toushiro have fun, it was Matsumoto Rangiku. The woman was a steamroller when she got an idea into her head.

The door slammed.

"I'll take that as a yes, then!" Ukitake called.

"And one-two-three, one-two-three, turn – remember to keep your backs straight," Hitsugaya said, walking around the room, observing the dancers with a critical eye. Here and there, he stopped to correct posture or foot placement.

Today they were teaching a basic slow waltz. This was usually the dance the majority of the couples learned because it was simple, elegant, and romantic.

He found that teaching wasn't quite the chore he thought it would be, not that he would ever admit it to Ukitake. The students were eager to learn (mostly it was the brides, but that was to be expected) and learned quickly.

He was even more reluctant to admit that the presence of his partner helped a great deal as well. She seemed to sense whenever he was getting particularly frustrated (which, thankfully, wasn't often) and would step in seamlessly.

Matsumoto Rangiku. There were so many things that came to mind after hearing that name. When Ukitake had breached the idea of partnering with her for Blackpool, he'd been skeptical at best. How plausible was it for a Latin dancer to successfully crossover into Standard? He had never doubted her dancing ability, merely her ability to perform an entirely different style well enough to impress in ballroom dancing's most prestigious competition.

Then there was the small matter of personality. If anyone had told him that he would work well with her, he would have escorted them to the mental hospital himself. Matsumoto Rangiku was exactly the type of woman Hitsugaya sought to avoid, simply because they intimidated him. Yes, it was true. She was a beautiful and self-confident woman who lived in the spotlight as though she were made for it. She was also incredibly experienced in all aspects of life.

She was so very different from him. He, who preferred to observe everything from a distance, measuring and calculating before he made a single move. He was a loner by nature and hated unnecessary things. Though the age gap between them was a mere five years, there were things that he was sure he'd never learned the way she had, despite his genius. No, he thought he wouldn't have worked well with her at all.

True, there were the moments when he'd had to chase her down to get her to practice. He couldn't count how many times he'd found her drinking with Kyouraku-san. He winced, remembering a particular day when he'd had to pry the sake bottle from her fingers before frog-marching her to the studio. And that was only with the help of Ise-san (the mere threat/promise of her taking off her glasses had sent 8/13's other owner into a brief panic). Anyone else might have despaired and given up, but he was tenacious.

However, once Matsumoto was on the dance floor, she became a different person. She came alive, infecting everyone with her enthusiasm and sheer love for the sport. She was, he mused, the essence of Latin, all flash and color and life. He often felt guilty for taking her from it, but she had volunteered and risen to the challenge. In the end, she lent her own flair to the cooler and more controlled dances that characterized Standard.

Especially tango. She had effectively transformed it for him, and Ukitake had noted that if they'd competed solely in the tango round, they almost certainly would have won first place.

First place. It was something he aspired to. He and Hinamori had been so close, he thought, especially after they'd won first place in the Amateur Rising Star Ballroom round at Blackpool. Afterwards, they had successfully made the transition to professionals, and everyone at 8/13 was anticipating greatness.

That was until Aizen Sosuke decided to create his own studio, taking some of 8/13's talent with him, including Hinamori. Aizen had been Hinamori's teacher and mentor, and she willingly followed his lead.

To Hitsugaya, it was something of a betrayal, choosing Aizen over her partner and friend of many years. He had never agreed with Aizen's style of dancing, while Hinamori took it as gospel – despite that, they were a great team. But with Aizen choosing to set up his studio in Osaka, there was no way that he could remain partners with her unless he followed or she stayed. And both had too much pride to ask the other to do so.

A black mood came over the young man, settling over his shoulders like a cloak. Matsumoto, watching him out of the corner of her eye, noted the change and resolved to ask him about it later.

That night, Hitsugaya found himself sitting on the fire escape. It was his favorite place to escape the hustle and bustle of the studio and just think.

The window beside him creaked open and a high-heeled shoe stepped gingerly out. Sighing, he reached out and grabbed the wrist that had also appeared on the frame, guiding her. "What are you going out here in those shoes, Matsumoto? Do you want to fall?"

The blonde toed her way across the fire escape and sat down, icy blue eyes blinking. "Don't worry about me, o-chibi," she laughed.

"Matsumoto," he said warningly.

Matsumoto just smiled. She adored her partner because he was just too cute – no, not really. That was only in situations like this, when she riled him up for the sheer fun of it. In truth, describing Hitsugaya Toushiro as cute was like saying the sun was hot – it was too mild a term. He was, quite simply, beautiful. His build was pleasing, tall and covered with lean muscle. There was an economy of movement to him, a liquid grace to his every move. Poetry in motion. His shock of white hair was quite the eye-catcher, and his rare eyes were even more so.

Oh, Matsumoto could wax eloquent on those eyes for days on end. Never before had she met anyone with eyes that bright, intense blue-green color. Once, when she'd visited the American Southwest, she'd fallen in love with a piece of jewelry, a hammered silver pendant inlaid with a single turquoise stone. The only color that could compare was his eyes. She could stare into them forever.

Which was what she was currently doing. Hitsugaya sighed. Sometimes he was curious, but for the most part he didn't want to know what she was thinking when she got that glazed look in her eyes. Probably something perverted. He snapped his fingers.

She started. "Yes?"

"Why are you here, Matsumoto?"

"You seemed distracted during class today, Hitsugaya. Are you all right?"

She was serious. In class, she called him Hitsugaya-kun in the most mocking tone, a warning that she could slip and call him by his dreaded nickname at any time. She only dropped the honorific when she was entirely serious.

"It's just an off day." He was reluctant to confess to her what he'd been thinking earlier, even though she was perhaps the one person who really understood how he felt. The relationship between Matsumoto and Ichimaru Gin was remarkably similar to his and Hinamori's – they had been friends and partners for as long as people could remember. But unlike him and Hinamori, Matsumoto and the eternally smiling silver-haired man had been much more than friends at one time. When Gin had left with Aizen, Matsumoto hadn't shed a tear, as far as anyone could tell. But judging by the way Ise-san had looked out for her, and the increased drinking sessions with Kyouraku-san, Gin's absence had affected her in some way.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not now." He tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. "Some other time."

Understanding passed between them. Matsumoto knew not to push. He would confide in her eventually, she knew. It still amazed her that he trusted her enough to do so, to let down his barriers just a little bit. "The stars are beautiful tonight, ne?"

"Hn." They sat for a long time in companionable silence, staring at the night sky.

Hitsugaya glowered at the clock on the wall. "She's late. Where-"

"Konbawa!" a familiar voice chirped in the doorway. He nearly choked.

Matsumoto pranced into the studio, wearing one of her Latin costumes. By definition, Latin costumes were the racier ones, and this one was no different. It consisted of two pieces, a matching top and skirt done in a bright floral pattern. The skirt was short, cut to mid-thigh and pleated. The top was midriff-baring and tied just below the breasts, exposing a glittery green bustier bra. The sleeves came to just below the elbow and flared out in pleats echoing the ones in the skirt.

Hitsugaya was conflicted. He'd thought that he was above this kind of visceral reaction to her since he saw her every day. Certainly her…assets no longer held any sway over him, seeing as he was far too well acquainted with them. Matsumoto was embarrassingly frank about her chest and her favorite greeting was a hug that crushed the receiver against it. Hitsugaya, unfortunately, was a repeat recipient.

But this was different. He'd never really seen her body.

What caught his attention and held it were her legs. He knew they were strong and flexible, but the skirt revealed worlds of knowledge. Her legs were damned long, ending somewhere in the vicinity of her ears.

He was going to hell, he knew it.

He caught the admiring looks she was receiving and was grateful all of the men in the room were spoken for. He'd developed the oddest urge to smash heads together. Luckily, several of the brides were already doing that for him.

But in the meantime… "Matsumoto, what the hell are you wearing?" he ground out, stalking over to her.

"I just thought it would be nice to wear tonight, since we're starting on Latin!" Her innocent tone was at odds with the mischievous smile on her face. "Do you like it, Hitsugaya-kun?"

"Let's just start," he said curtly, holding out a hand to her.

"Ah-ah." She held up a finger. "Remember, this is my territory. I'll do the explanations." Turning to the class, she smiled beatifically. "I've had inquiries from several of you about teaching more…sensual dances than the waltz. I've talked it over with Hitsugaya-kun, and we've decided to teach rumba and tango."

"Rumba," she continued, "Is the most romantic of all the Latin dances. It is, essentially, the dance of love. Perfect for weddings, ne? Though I have to say the children might want to look away." Chuckles echoed around the room. "All, right, let's get started!" She turned to her partner with a smile. "Today's going to be a good day, ne, o-chibi?"

An hour later Matsumoto was cursing herself. "No, no!" she cried. "Hold her closer, Halu-san! She's your fiancée, you can't be afraid to touch her!" The man (who was holding his fiancée as though they were awkward high schoolers at a dance) obliged, his face flaming.

"Matsumoto, calm down," Hitsugaya muttered as he passed by her, going over to correct another couple's posture.

She pursed her lips angrily. Of all the people she expected to get a dance like the rumba right, she would have thought it was a couple about to get married. Her students had been doing so well in the past hour mastering the basics, so she thought it was logical to have them do small routines. She needed to show them, without a doubt, what she expected of them.

A wicked grin flitted across her face. "Stop!" All activity ceased as her students turned to look at her. "Where is the passion? Where is the love?" she demanded. She walked over to her partner and yanked him to her, ignoring his muffled protest.

Matsumoto hooked her knee around his hip, molding her body against his. Automatically, one hand went to her back and the other to her thigh to support her. She met those gorgeous teal eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking: what the hell are you planning, Matsumoto? She raised an eyebrow in response. Work with me, chibi-chan, she thought. "You have to hold her like the feel of her breath on your skin is the reason you're alive."

"Let her go," she continued, and he flung her away, prowling behind her as she glided across the studio floor, the students parting like the Red Sea. "Even though it feels like you'll never live without her."

"Throw her back-" he grabbed her hand and spun her into him, her back hitting his chest. She wrapped an arm back around his neck while his hand trailed down her torso. As his fingers traced bare skin, her stomach muscles tightened in surprise from the sparks of lightning that followed in their wake. She heard a few muffled gasps from the brides and appreciative whistles from the grooms. "Like every second without her was the utmost agony."

"And then finish-" They ended in a combination lunge and dip, her right leg hooked around his, her arm splayed across his shoulders, her body nearly parallel to the ground as her left leg slid backwards between his. She could feel his lips brushing her neck as it arched backwards, the ends of her hair nearly touching the floor. "As if you're never going to let her leave you again."

The room exploded with applause. Her heart racing, Matsumoto placed a hand on Hitsugaya's cheek as he pulled her back up. "Nice job, o-chibi," she whispered in his ear, grinning.

The younger man snorted in reply. If she'd looked closer, she would have seen the slight red tinge on his cheeks.

"Well," she said cheerfully, turning to face her eager pupils. "I suppose you get the idea?"

They certainly did. From that moment on, the class seemed to lose their inhibitions and give themselves over to the dance. As the last students trickled their way out of class an hour later, draped over each other and blissfully unaware of the world around them, the blonde turned to her partner. "Good work, o-chibi!" she said brightly.

Hitsugaya shook his head as he dimmed the lights. "Your ideas are unconventional as usual, Matsumoto…but they worked."

"Excuse me?" she said innocently, eyes twinkling.

"You're going to make me repeat it?" he scowled. "No. Now come on, we have to choreograph the tango for next week's class."

"Aw, come on, o-chibi!"

His eyebrow twitched. "How many times have I told you-"

"Chibi, chibi, o-chibi-chan!" she sang.

"Matsumoto-"

"Kawaii, kawaii, chibi-chan!"

"MATSUMOTO!" His grip on her arms was like steel. "Stop talking," he growled. "Don't," he said softly, dangerously, when she opened her mouth. "Don't talk. Don't think. Just dance."

What could she do but comply? As she began counting in her head, Matsumoto marveled at the fact that the tango embodied their relationship perfectly – a constant dance of dominance and control. One, two, three, four – she walked away from him, only to be roughly spun to face him. Side basic, fan, dip. Matsumoto stepped away, coyly motioning for him to come get her, if he dared. Then they circled, her hand fisting on the front of his shirt, both to keep him close and to keep him away.

The whole time, they never broke the connection between them. Her breath caught in her throat. His blue-green eyes were lit, glittering like jewels catching the sun as they remained focused on hers. Lunge. Prep. Spin. Lunge.

What changed? She thought dazedly as she hooked her right leg about his left, letting him lift and spin her, then dipping her deeply. The tiny flutters she'd felt from the rumba were back with a vengeance. When she came back up, she found her face so close to his, their breath mingling warmly. Close enough to kiss. Another fan, then a half spin so that her back was pressed to his chest. Grapevine, kick, half-turn. Side basic. Spin away, lunge. His hand kept her anchored to him.

She turned, slapping him away. As he turned, presenting his back to her, she came up behind him, her leg up and resting on his hip, her cheek resting on his shoulder as a hand stroked down his arm. Before he could turn in her embrace, she pushed him away with a devious smirk. Oh yes. There was no doubt who was in charge here. Once again, they circled.

What was it, Matsumoto wondered, that made her oh-so-tightly-reined-in partner look at her like this? What made his hands linger so on her back, a lover-like quality evident in the set of his fingers? Passion. It was what had been missing from their previous tangos. Now it pulsed between them, spinning its way through her body until she nearly purred with pleasure. How could someone who seemed so cold stir these feelings within her until she thought she would die from the sheer heat of it all?

It ended with her draped across his body, her legs twined with his. His hand was splayed across her stomach, her arm hooked around his neck. Once again, their lips were close, so close… "Toushiro," she breathed, her icy blue eyes glazed and hazy with dreams.

Hitsugaya didn't know why, but he absolutely panicked. There was no reason why his emotions were spinning in his head like this, getting the better of him. He promptly dropped her, the sound of Spanish guitars echoing in his mind.

Thud. Matsumoto looked at him over her shoulder, rubbing her knees. Hitsugaya looked away, but not before he caught the brief flash of hurt. Guilt danced its way up his spine and gleefully tap-danced on his head. "Well, that really wasn't the reaction I was looking for," she said wryly.

"Sorry." He extended a hand to help her up.

The blonde laughed uncomfortably. "It's all right, o-chibi."

"Don't call me that." The command fell flat.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" He crossed his arms and scowled.

"I never figured that you would be one to bury your head in the sand." She tilted her head, considering. "What just happened?"

"Nothing happened, Matsumoto," he said, unsuccessfully trying to keep the growl out of his voice. "Just go."

Neither of them spoke for a time, the stillness a yawning canyon between them. "Fine," she said eventually. "I'll let it go for now. But sooner or later we're going to have to talk about us…Toushiro." She left, the click of her heels on the wooden floor sounding like gunshots in the ensuing silence.

Once she was gone, Hitsugaya shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. He couldn't even begin to catalogue the feelings he felt whenever he was with her, though some were easy enough. Exasperation and annoyance were first and foremost, but they were superficial at best because he knew that her childlike innocence and happiness were indelible (and endearing) traits. Affection. He enjoyed her company well enough. Respect – as a dancer and as a person. There was no one with a heart like Matsumoto. Her friendship, loyalty, and compassion were eternal. She genuinely cared.

Oh yes. Those impressions, though varied and complex in and of themselves, were nothing compared to the other ones. Like how a simple brush of her fingers sent waves of heat skittering over his skin. How simply hearing that deep, throaty voice made his heart do Riverdance. How her hair fascinated him, reminding him of Rumplestiltskin's spun gold. The inexplicable urge to simply grab on to her and never let go. Those feelings were not so easy to explain.

So, being the genius that he was, he tired to reason them away. Much of it could be attributed to attraction. Hitsugaya Toushiro was like any normal, red-blooded man, if a bit more reserved. Really, what man could resist a woman like Matsumoto? Contrary to popular belief, he was not made of ice.

Much could also be explained with friendship. Matsumoto was rapidly becoming one of two people he ever let down his guard with, the other being Hinamori. She could be wonderfully perceptive and often met him on the fire escape when he was in a particularly broody mood.

That had to be it. He was slightly attracted to her, yes. He valued their friendship, yes. Nothing more.

His traitorous mind couldn't help but remember the rumba and the tango, and the sheer force of emotion that made his knees tremble. It was like being consumed by flames – flames that burned butane-blue.

Like her eyes.

Hitsugaya cursed. He would not go that route. Not now. Not with Matsumoto. "There is no us," he said to the waiting studio.

The promise was as hollow as the room.

"You're not concentrating, Rangiku," Nanao murmured as she pulled the other woman into a stretch.

"Really?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm, even though her torso was folded flat on the floor. "Oooh, that feels good. Pull harder."

Ise Nanao rolled her eyes and let go.

"Ow. I think I'm stuck. Help me?"

"Not until you tell me what's bothering you. You've been moping around the studio for a week now." She tilted her head, violet eyes assessing. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that Hitsugaya Toushiro has been prowling around the studio, acting like a cornered animal? I didn't know it was possible to avoid someone while dancing. You do realize that Nationals are next week. You both can't be acting like this."

"WealmostkissedandIswearNanaoIthinkitstheFeelingand-"

"Coherent sentences, please, Rangiku," Nanao said tartly.

"Fine." Matsumoto shoved herself up onto her hands and glared at her best friend. "We almost kissed. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," was the dry reply. "Now explain."

The blonde sighed and recounted the events of that eventful night. When her explanation drew to a halt, she looked at Nanao hopefully.

"Well," she said eventually. "That's something I wasn't expecting."

"Thanks. That helps a lot."

"Quiet. I wasn't finished yet." She paused. "Are you in love with him?"

Nanao didn't pull her punches. "I don't know. Maybe."

"There are no maybes with love, Rangiku. Either you love someone or you don't."

"Well, we all don't have the luxury of having love returned, do we, Nanao?" the blonde shot back. Nanao had the grace to look embarrassed. "I don't know." Huffing out a breath, she sat up, swinging her legs in front of her. "It's difficult. There are things…I'm still hung up on."

"Gin."

She shook her head. "Gin's only part of it, and an insignificant one at that. I've accepted the fact that he left. It's just that I'm hesitant to get involved with someone again. Toushiro seems so adamant that nothing should happen between us. Sometimes I think I agree…"

"Even though you're already in love with him, just a little bit?" the black-haired woman prompted.

"Yes," Matsumoto replied absently. Then she realized what she just said. "Wait, I mean-"

"I told you."

Blue eyes glared. "You know, smugness doesn't suit you."

"I think it suits me rather well." She took her hand. "Now listen to me, Rangiku, and listen well. You've already admitted that you have feelings, despite your…doubts. What are you waiting for?"

The blonde was silent for a second. When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were clear. "You're right. What am I waiting for?"

She'd been waiting too long, she thought, as she raced through the studio. Waiting for Gin, waiting for someone to give her love. She wouldn't wait any longer. She would take that happiness for herself, consequences be damned. There were no doubts, just absolute certainty.

But before she rushed out onto the fire escape, she stopped. She couldn't simply storm out there and declare her feelings. He would just run away. No, with Hitsugaya Toushiro, she had to be delicate. Matsumoto almost giggled at the absurd image. She wouldn't force him…she would…persuade him.

"Let's make a deal," she announced, stepping out onto the fire escape.

Hitsugaya looked up at her. "What?" he snapped, surprised.

"If we win first place at Nationals and at Blackpool, we'll switch events to Latin. And…"

"And?" he prompted warily.

"You have to have dinner with me once a week."

"…" He stared, completely flabbergasted. "Why?"

She shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Just because."

It was entirely too suspicious. They hadn't had a proper conversation in a week, had met only to dance, and now she was making bets? He wasn't quite sure if he could write it off as one of his partner's eccentricities. "And what happens if we don't win?"

"Well, we'll stick with Standard." Then suddenly, her smile faded. "And you don't have to have dinner with me."

Now he was sure this wasn't normal (but then, when was that woman ever normal?). Too many thoughts were taking up space in his head. First and foremost was why did it seem like dinner with him was the most important part of that bet to her? There was something to it, but he was too afraid to discover what it was.

He had arrived at that conclusion days before. Matsumoto had gone from intimidating to terrifying. Though their relationship had never been predictable, he had been comfortable in its absolute boundaries. They were friends, nothing more and nothing less. The sudden change in dynamic was more than he could handle. The perfect solution, he had thought, was distance. Obviously, that wasn't going to work. He knew his partner. She would not give this up.

"Fine," he said eventually. "If you want it so badly, you'd better start practicing, Matsumoto."

Her eyes widened in surprise at his acquiescence before narrowing with satisfaction. "Oh, I will, chibi-chan. This I promise you: I intend to win."

Terrified? Scratch that. Hitsugaya Toushiro was absolutely petrified.

Nationals were almost as big as Blackpool, as far as the 8/13 Dance Studio was concerned. Since the competition's establishment ten years before, the studio had been the top pick of the Kantou region. 8/13 always did well at Nationals, carrying away the majority of the top prizes. This year, however, Aizen Studios, the dark horse of the Kansai region, was promising to bring on the competition.

The atmosphere was bright and glitzy – far less formal than Blackpool, but carried the same air of competition. Competitive ballroom dancing was blood, sweat, and tears, and it reflected in the attitudes of the participants.

"…and now, the final dance of the Professional Latin round, the samba! Our couples are…"

Matsumoto put her fingers to her mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle. "Go Renji-kun!" The tattooed, flame-haired man winked as he swung by with Soi Fong, his petite, stoic partner. "It feels so strange not to be out there," she murmured. The two representatives from 8/13 in the professional rounds had been Renji and Soi Fong and her and Gin for the past five years. Now, Gin samba-ed across the floor with a well-endowed, teal-haired woman.

As if sensing her thoughts, Nanao, who was sitting next to her, murmured, "You're better." Matsumoto smiled, touched by her friend's loyalty.

"Thank you, Nanao. Though I think Nell-chan is exquisite."

"Indeed!" Kyouraku Shunsui boomed from Nanao's other side. "Nell is Latin! Those legs, those arms, those-" he was cut short by a thwack of Nanao's fan. He rubbed his head, grinning ruefully. "I was going to say 'those eyes,' Nanao-chan."

A slim black eyebrow arched upwards. "I know. I was simply anticipating what was coming next."

"How can you say that, Nanao-chan!" he crooned. "When you know your-" The fan came down again.

"Don't. Finish. That." While he pouted, Matsumoto saw her friend's eyes crease in affection before she took his hand in hers. Biting her lip at the wave of envy that washed over her, her eyes subconsciously searched the room.

From across the room, Hitsugaya was doing his best not to look at his partner while Hinamori chattered on. "Shiro-chan, I'm so excited about dancing tomorrow. Aizen-sensei says Kira-kun and I are doing very well. I can't wait to see how we do against you and Rangiku-san-"

He stiffened. And Hinamori, knowing her friend very well, caught it. "What's wrong, Shiro-chan?" When he refused to answer, she sighed. "Is it Rangiku-san? Are you two fighting again?"

"No – yes – maybe," he mumbled.

"Shiro-chan."

He ran a hand through his hair. He'd never been good at hiding things from Hinamori. With a sigh, he told her of the events spanning the last two weeks.

"But I don't understand," she said after he finished. "What's the problem?"

"The problem, Hinamori, is that she's my partner. She's…Matsumoto."

"Partners can be partners off the dance floor as well, Shiro-chan, you know that. They tend to be the rule, not the exception. And Rangiku-san is a lovely person. You would be lucky to have someone like her."

"I'm not interested." He finally allowed himself to look in her direction. He saw her, chatting with Gin and his partner. He watched her laugh gaily as the silver-haired man said something witty; saw her smile when he leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Saw the blush spread across her cheeks. Felt his hands clench.

Hinamori looked at him knowingly. "Who are you kidding, Shiro-chan?" she said quietly.

"I'm going," he said curtly. "See you tomorrow, Hinamori."

"How can someone with so much love inside keep pushing it away, Shiro-chan?" she called after him. "You have no reason not to love her!"

They won the title at Nationals easily, with Hinamori and Kira Izuru coming in a close second. Hitsugaya chalked it up to the fact that Kuchiki Byakuya had been detained by family matters and thus was unable to compete. Here and now at Blackpool, that was not the case. There was no doubt that he and Nanao were the ones to beat for 1st place – as the past winners and the judges' favorite.

The question was if he wanted to beat them. Hinamori's words echoed over and over in his head, and he wondered.

Matsumoto was fire, he decided. She was everything of life and warmth and beauty, a true golden girl. She was lit from within, magnificent in every way. That light was in her eyes, her voice, the fall of her hair, the graceful set of her shoulders, and the way she danced. Especially the way she danced.

In contrast, he was ice. He was the marble-eyed prince, as cool and as distant as the moon. He couldn't claim to possess that same depth of emotion that she was capable of, no matter how much he wished it.

Even if he did love her. Hinamori was right, damn it all. There was no reason not to love her. He was hopelessly, ridiculously, stand-on-your-hands crazy in love with her. What he didn't understand was why she got it in her head that she felt the same way. What could she possibly see in him? Why was his love something she sought so actively when he knew it would not be enough for her?

Such were his confused thoughts as they danced their way through the slow foxtrot and the quickstep, the jumble in his head translating into perfectly executed, rhythmic steps.

The slow waltz and the Viennese waltz were pure torture, though of course none of it showed in his dancing.

Matsumoto, on the other hand, gave everything away. Both waltzes, the most romantic of all Standard dances, lent themselves beautifully to her feelings. She looked at him with the eyes of a woman in love, not even bothering to give him the courtesy of hiding them. He was slowly losing his sanity all because of her.

It was utterly baffling. That flame in her eyes – how could he inspire that in her? Hitsugaya barely noticed the congratulations they were receiving after every dance. Nor was he conscious of the concerned looks his partner was shooting at him.

"Hitsugaya-kun and Rangiku are doing wonderfully," Shunsui said to Ukitake. "Although Hitsugaya-kun seems somewhat preoccupied and unfocused. That may cost them some points, for all that their dancing has been without peer."

"I agree." The older man pushed his fall of white hair back. "Though Rangiku-chan wants this badly, and she's been making up for Hitsugaya-kun's lack of focus."

"Her feelings are spilling out everywhere," Unohana Retsu remarked from Ukitake's other side. "Such a display of emotion…I wonder how Hitsugaya-kun can keep denying himself?"

"I have my money on not very long," Shunsui laughed.

"And now for the final event of the Professional Ballroom round, the tango! Your couples are…"

Hitsugaya and Matsumoto took their place on the dance floor. They looked exquisite together, with him in all black, contrasting beautifully with his white hair. Matsumoto wore a red costume covered in sequins, the back plunging to the small of her back. The skirt was a flamenco dream, heavily ruffled and flowing.

Hitsugaya gritted his teeth as he presented his partner. He was afraid that he was going to explode. "I don't understand you, Matsumoto."

She raised an eyebrow as they settled into the first position. "Now's really not the time to have a discussion, ne chibi-chan?"

"Just one question," he hissed as the music started. "Why me?"

He caught the look of surprise, but then they were off. Chase. Basic. Fan. Steps from the tango's syllabus echoed in her head. She had confidence. They had done well tonight, even with her partner's head in the clouds.

She knew Hitsugaya Toushiro and what was going on in his head. She knew very well that he didn't think they belonged together and that they were too different. What he never considered was that those differences were what made them good together. Their faults compensated for the others', and together they made a wonderfully whole couple. She'd heard the fire and ice metaphor from other people before, and it had never bothered her.

"You two are wonderful," she said warmly, clasping Gin's hand between hers. "I wish you and Nell all the best."

"So sentimental, Ran-chan," her old friend and lover said, peering at her through slitted eyes. "I can't wait to see you and the ice prince tomorrow."

"Ice prince?"

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Thinking of melting some of that ice with your fire, Ran-chan?"

She blushed furiously as Nell giggled.

"Yare, yare, why do I feel like the temperature's dropped several degrees?" After glancing over his shoulder to see Hitsugaya stomping away from a shouting Hinamori, Gin turned back, a sly smile on his face. "Not so frozen, is he?"

Corny and cliché as it sounded, that's what Matsumoto had been aiming for – melting the heart of her partner. Oversway. Fallaway reverse. Slip pivot. Perhaps…she dared to hope…she'd succeeded?

The dance ended to thunderous applause, and much screaming for the two 8/13 couples on the dance floor – the two who were sure to be at the very top.

As Hitsugaya offered Matsumoto his arm to lead her off the dance floor, she pulled his head down to her level. "Why not you?" she whispered in his ear.

And it was as simple as that.

The awards ceremony was a mere blur to her. She had never danced better tonight, she knew it. She had poured everything of herself into the dances in the hopes that her partner would finally get a clue and so that they would have a chance to win. So that she would have a chance with him and win him over until he was hers as much as she was his. She could not, would not accept the idea of defeat. His heart was on the line here and she would be damned if she was going to give it up.

"Second place – couple number 295, Hitsugaya Toushiro and Matsumoto Rangiku!"

The crowd exploded. Matsumoto couldn't believe her ears. Second? The disappointment swamped her, even as she plastered a smile on her face. There would be no world title, though that mattered little to her. She'd never danced for the awards but for love of the dance. There would be no Latin next year, which was a bit more disappointing for her. Latin was the heart and soul of her dance and she'd been eager to go back to it and introduce its intricacies to her partner.

And that hurt her the most. There would be no dinners with Toushiro, and the chance to win his love. Yes, there were other ways, but she had been so sure that this was the best way: to coax him along until she was woven so deeply into the fabric of his life that he would never want her to leave. So distracted was she by that regret that she missed that Nanao and Byakuya had won their second consecutive Blackpool championship.

As they stood and accepted their awards, Hitsugaya took careful notice of his partner. She was miserable beneath that smiling façade, he knew. To be so close and yet so far…yet even now he knew it wasn't the championship she was thinking about.

As they walked off the floor, he summoned his courage. If she was so strong as to put everything on the line with her ridiculous bet and to dance the way she had tonight…well, he owed her that strength as well. "Matsu…Rangiku."

She blinked up at him. "Yes, Toushiro?"

He gulped and ran a hand through his snowy hair. This was much harder than it looked. "I'm sorry…it was my fault we lost. Next year. We'll win first place next year, and then we'll switch to Latin." Dear gods, he was going to choke. "And…I still want dinner."

She stopped dead just off the dance floor and stared up at him. Slowly, ever so slowly, a smile spread across her face, like sunlight dashing across the water. With a squeal, she launched herself at him. This time he accepted the hug, allowing himself a few seconds of burying his face in the gold of her hair.

When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling. "Why chibi-chan," she laughed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I think we may be in love, after all!"

"Shut up," he mumbled, trying to prevent the blush spreading across his face.

A year later, they took first place. Two years after that, they became the first couple to win the championship in both Standard and Latin. But then there was no more room for competition…

"No, no, no." Hitsugaya was shaking his head. Once again, he and Matsumoto were faced with the wedding class – only this time he was the teacher. "This is the rumba. It is the dance of love. You have to hold her," he said, pulling Matsumoto close until their noses were almost touching. He held her hand on his waist as their hips rotated together slowly. Their eyes were focused on each other's, a titan clash of icy blue and blue-green. "Like the feel of her breath on your skin is the reason you're alive."

Every morning when he woke up with her in his arms, feeling her breath on the skin of his neck made him feel alive, just knowing that she was his, now and forever. "Let her go, even if it feels like you'll never live without her." He spun her away in front of him, holding her left hand in his right.

He could feel the wedding band on her finger, and felt within him the deep satisfaction that he never would have to live without her. It was a heady thought. "Throw her back-" He stepped up behind her as she bent her knees, clasping her hands behind his neck. His hands slipped over her waist, feeling the light bulge that heralded the beginning of new life. "Like every second without her was the utmost agony."

Even though there were still moments when she drove him absolutely insane, he could not, would not imagine being without her. Now he loved her more than ever. "And then finish as if you're never going to let her leave you again." And he turned her back into his embrace; secure in that knowledge. Burying his face in the fall of her hair and smelling her scent (amber and vanilla), Hitsugaya realized that trusting in Matsumoto and accepting her love was his greatest achievement.

"Got that?" he said to the class, not bothering to remove himself from his wife's arms. A host of grins met him. "Good. Class dismissed."

Giggles and whispers were heard as their students exited the studio. Matsumoto (well, Hitsugaya now, but old habits were hard to break) winked. "Good job, Shiro."

"I had a good teacher," he replied, his eyes kindling before capturing her lips in a swift, dizzying kiss.

She pulled away a few minutes later, breathless and giddy. Every time he looked at her like that, her knees turned to jelly. "We can continue this later, Shiro, but first…" A finger slid down his chest.

He raised an eyebrow. "First?"

"I have to show the costume sketches to Nanao!" she said, running for the black sketchbook propped against the wall.

"Sketches? What sketches?" he said, his gut grinding.

"Silly, for our children! Our daughter's going to be partners with Shunsui and Nanao's son, it's perfect!"

"Rangiku," Hitsugaya sputtered as his wife sailed out of the studio, calling for her best friend. Then her words hit him. Partners? Shunsui's son?

He was going to have to keep an eye on that.

Please review! Or seriously, you'll have to dance the jive with Mayuri.

So, here is where I dispense my thanks. First of all, thanks to my wonderful beta, poptate, for enduring my incessant nagging and rants. Suki desu! Second, big hugs go out to BlackVelvetBand for her wonderful suggestions and for getting me over the hump. Third, to MatsuMama for also listening to my rants and always being encouraging (and yay, someone to obsess about DWtS with!) and getting my butt in gear by asking me to update. You guys rock and I have no idea what I would have done without you!!

So, story notes: I've decided to go with a Michael Buble theme for the entire series. His music is so inspiring. Matsumoto's line about the rumba and having to hold, bring back, etc, was based on Jennifer Lopez's amazing line from Shall We Dance: "You have to hold her like the skin on her thigh is your reason for living. Let her go, like your heart's being ripped from your chest. Bring her back, like you're going to have your way with her, right here on the dance floor. And then finish like she's ruined you for life." I was going to use that line verbatim, but then I decided it wasn't romantic enough for me. Now, as for the rest of the series, my next couple will be Ukitake/Unohana. From there on, expect some serious crack (cackles). I may consider requests, though I already have extensive notes on the next installments and am not likely to change the pairings I've already decided on. What are they, do you ask? Well, you'll just have to wait and see! Thanks for reading!