A/N: All the cool kids have crack pairing minifics. Now I do, too! Aren't you all thrilled?

They would never know why they were there, but both of them knew that their lives would never be the same. Yet they stood at the counter, filing out the papers, both of them, choosing their own fate rather than vesting it in the whims of others. Finally, Sakura got her wish. The one she'd been holding in since the beginning of them.

Finally.

Finally, she and Deidara would learn how to dance. Properly.

"I can't breathe in this damn outfit, yeah."

Deidara picked at the buttons on his dress shirt vengefully, pulled his shirt up and smoothed out the wrinkles, and stared hatefully at his shiny black shoes.

Sakura turned from the counter, handing the completed forms to the woman behind the glass, and pursed her lips at the blond.

"Deidara," she sighed, re-buttoning the top buttons tediously while he scowled, "I know you don't like these clothes, but just deal with it. The couple teaching this class is very skilled. I've always wanted to learn the Merengue." She undid his belt and stuffed the suffocating shirt back into the depths.

"Well," he mumbled. "You're not exactly comfortable either, Miss Pointy Shoes. That dress makes you look like a freaking ghost, yeah."

Sakura giggled and swirled the can-can skirt. It was a simple dance getup: a white dress and a layered skirt with a different color trim on each layer, and rainbow-striped dance heels. She thought it was cute and sexy. He thought it make her look like a tramp.

"Don't be silly," she jokingly admonished. "I love this dress. And you look so cutesy-wootsy in those slacks. They make your butt look good."

"Don't call me that, yeah. It's Dei—wait, where are you going now?"

"Dance floor," she called over her shoulder as she click-clacked down the linoleum hallway. "It's time to start! Come on, sexy!"

"Oh, God," he muttered to himself. "I'm never going to hear the end of this."

"From who?"

"I dunno, yeah. People."

"Oh, just stop complaining and come on."

Skirt flying and heels clicking, Sakura snatched Deidara's hand and yanked him down the hallway, fluorescent shadows flashing over them rapidly in her haste to reach the ballroom floor, or, as Deidara would rename it in the future, 'OhshitIhatebeinghere.'

The doors flew open and the breathless couple burst into the room with mixed expressions of glee and absolute abandonment of all dignity.

Somewhere, a part of Deidara died inside. There were Naruto and Anko. Right there in the dance room. Why? Why?

"Hey, assface," Naruto called out to the ex-Stone-nin-Akatsuki-bang-boy-go-boom. "You taking lessons, too? Don't step on her feet or I'll kill you."

Several months ago, Deidara had been accepted and pardoned by the Hokage Tsunade for all crimes, during one of her more serious bouts of drunkenness, and for no adequately explored reason. And this dance class, she explained, would rid him of all his evil doings. Especially if Sakura were his dance partner.

Sakura ignored the subtle suggestions, relented, and vowed to have fun; Deidara nearly committed suicide by ingesting fertilizer, and Tsunade got drunk again and forced them to sign up. Unfortunately, she forgot to mention that she also forced Naruto and Anko to take the class, also for no adequately explored reason.

Wasn't life just wonderful?

Deidara groaned and swayed from side to side. Well, this was better than running from killer ninja twenty-four-seven. Just a bit.

Suddenly, the lights went off and the speakers began to play a rapid, jarring beat. A couple charged through the doors in a full tango stride, and the woman yelled at the bemused four over the pulsing of the bass.

"Hola, niños! Are yous ready to party? My nombre is Señora Maria Florida la Chica Bonita, and thees is my hussbant, Tad. We teach you dance now. Boys, put your hand on thee girlss waists, yes, even with thee lower back, now. Keep clasp-ed hands in upward position like these, yes. Less talk, more dance. Go!"

The unlikely pairs watched the passionate couple grind, twist, flick, and spin their way across the marble, wincing every time something that should've been physically impossible was pulled off with aplomb.

"Ooh," Sakura whispered. "I want to do that. Don't you, Deidara?"

"I can't hear you," he yelled.

"I said I want to do that! Don't you?" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Exposure to these kinds of decibels wasn't healthy, that was for damn certain.

"No!"

"You're an ass!"

"I know!"

"Into poseetion, you lazy idiots!" The woman screeched on the other side of the room.

Growling, Deidara grabbed Sakura's lace-clad waist and dragged her towards the middle.

"Okay, what the hell are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know, really, I'm just as much a beginner as—wait, this isn't right. This is the tango. We can't dance the tango. Especially not you."

"Yeah, so we should both leave and never come—whoa, why am I so special about not being able?"

"You never seemed that graceful," Sakura snapped. "And you hate being here anyway. You said so a million times when Tsunade told you that you were coming."

"Well, I changed my mind," Deidara spat back. "We're dancing. And I mean it."

"Fine!" Sakura shrieked.

So they danced, and danced some more, and eventually they got so good that they ended up hosting classes of their own, which never make it more than halfway before they got in a heated argument that would ultimately end in wild sex by the end of the day.

And for some reason, they never did learn the Merengue.