A/N: An entry by Kelzywolf. Prolly not what you had in mind, ay babe?

Tango

"People, I'm getting tired of this!" The instructor screamed at his panting class. "When I say attack, I goddamn well mean it. You turn to your opponent and you hit him! Or her! You use every move you've got to get them on the ground! I see anymore pussyfooting shit and I swear to God a square dance is going to break out. Pair off!"

Cadet Grace Van Pelt turned instantly to face her next rival as the outer circle of people moved to the right. New challenger. New set of information to take in on how best to defeat them. She took a deep breath, centering herself. She was exhausted. They'd been fighting a sort of boxing/self defense style for over an hour now. The outer ring of people were covered in protective gear. It was the inner circle's job to subdue them. By any means necessary.

A lot of cadets were having trouble with that kind of overt aggression. It was the instructor's job to beat their timidity out of them. That's why the inner circle of first year cadets were paired against third years. They were stronger. Unafraid of confrontation. They were already soldiers.

The outer circled completed its rotation. Grace groaned inwardly as her new opponent filled her vision. She'd seen this guy move his way through the circle. No one had succeeded in knocking him down. Physically, he was the last guy she'd ever want to fight hand-to-hand. A big dude. Tall. Solid. And unfortunately, very aware of his dimensions and how best to use them. She took another breath and rolled her shoulders back, ready to become his next defeated foe.

"I'm Wayne, by the way. Wayne Rigsby. You're Grace?"

His voice startled her. She stopped analyzing his body for weaknesses and looked up into his eyes. She was startled even further. He had a sweet face.

"Um…yeah. Grace Van Pelt. Hi."

"Attack!"

Grace disappeared and the soldier in training roared to life. She planted her feet and struck quickly with both fists. Rigsby was ready. He took both hits to his padded chest, causing no more damage than gently lobbed snowballs. He shot his weight forward, forcing her to step back. She grunted in frustration and pivoted, side-stepping him and striking again into his unprotected ribs. It knocked the air out of him, but she underestimated how fast he could move.

He lauched sideways, then forward, grabbing her and trapping her in a restraining hold, her back to his chest. The power in his biceps was terrifying. She could tell he wasn't even trying, but even in idleness, they rippled and gunned like a V8 engine. She struggled, but he held fast. She wasn't going anywhere. If Rigsby were a bad guy, she'd be down for the count.

This really pissed her off.

She pulled hard against him, huffing in rage at her captivity. But strength was no longer an option. Time to try something a little unorthodox.

Grace suddenly went limp in his arms, forcing him to hold all of her weight. She heard him inhale in surprise and tighten his hold. Perfect. With the strain off her feet, she used her little-known yoga flexibility and pressed them squarely into the ground before launching straight up.

Rigsby was a strong guy. He bore the force of her legs shooting straight up. Holding onto his arms, her bent legs curled upwards and caught him by the throat, yanking him forwards. The disappearance of his leverage and force of her legs sent them both sprawling into a heap. Grace yelped as over 200 pounds of muscle crashed on top of her. Rigsby bellowed loudly as a first year female cadet succeeded in sending him to the floor.

The room went quiet as Rigsby instantly rolled off of her, worried that their little spill might have hurt her. He tried to get up, but her leg shot out and knocked his out from under him again. Flat on his back, he looked over at her in amazement.

A beautiful woman beamed back at him, her flush cheeks and damp skin radiating gloriously. Panting harshly, she spoke through her grin. "Stay down for a second. I want everyone to see."

He grinned back and threw his arms and legs out wide, illustrating his defeat. "Knocked on my ass by Grace Van Pelt. Someone take a picture."

She bit her lips, liking his playful, unmacho sportsmanship. "Can I buy you a coffee later? For knocking you on your ass?"

She couldn't believe the blush that crept into his cheeks as he got to his feet and offered his hand to her. She took it and stood up, looking shyly into his blue eyes.

"Sure," he answered bashfully. The outer circle rotated once again.

"Hey Grace," he caught her hand as he began to move off.

She turned to him. "Yeah?"

He smiled charmingly. "Thanks for the dance."