I apologise for nothing... other than the fact I have to test every move and it's midnight... sorry the person that lives beneath. I just seriously need to lose weight. (Yes, Cicapoo is the dance that I have been forever brainwashed into remembering.)
Warnings: Cursing and I barely can dance (I had to test it, that's why my skill level matters.)
Ages: 19 both.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stan's POV.

"Oh hey Bebe!" Kenny says, leaving us almost immediately after we can get into the building.

"Why do I always come here when i fucking hate dancing?" Kyle asks.

"Ah come on, can't be that bad," Wendy says.

"I just can't," Kyle says.

He, very awkwardly, starts slightly moving in the corner.

"Okay okay, don't, I don't need more of that," Wendy says.

"Told you. If I knew how to dance, I'm pretty sure I'd do a Bebe," Kyle says.

"Or Kenny," Wendy says.

"Kenny... doesn't dance," I say.

Kyle bursts out laughing.

"If that was the truth, I'd be so depressed," Wendy says.

"I'm depressed either way," I say, shrugging.

"But yeah, your boyfriend can dance," Kyle says.

The music starts getting louder and louder.

"Not my boyfriend," I say.

"Yet. Don't be such a depressed little shit, he might as well be your boyfriend," Wendy says.

"If I didn't have Token and Nichole, I'd be jealous, he likes you," Kyle says.

I laugh.

"Nah, it's a lot more complicated," I say.

Kyle rolls his eyes.

"It's really not. He's just confusing," he says.

"Nah, it's a lot more than that," I say.

~Time skip to like an hour later.~

"I haven't seen you dancing," Kenny says.

He stands with Me, Kyle and Wendy, red in the face.

"It's fine, in my opinion. I can live without dancing," Kyle says.

"How are you gonna learn if you don't try?" Kenny asks.

"Nope. Token and Nichole need me, Goodbye forever!" Kyle says.

Wendy laughs as Kyle pretty much runs away from Kenny.

"Damn," Wendy says.

Kenny nods. Bebe comes up to Wendy.

"Come dance! With me and Leo!" She says.

Wendy looks, at first, happy, then terrified, and last she just nods and Bebe drags her away.

"So. Wanna dance with me?" Kenny asks.

"I'm fine singing in the corner," I say.

"You can't probably pronounce anything here. Can you?" Kenny asks.

"My Swedish isn't half bad!" I say.

He says something in a language I can only expect to be Swedish.

"I'm not saying that I understand Swedish for shit," I say.

He laughs.

"I'm not surprised. But come on, I just wanted to dance. Please Stan, it'll be funny, I'm not good," Kenny says.

I sigh.

"And then you're good and I'm going to die out of embarrassment!" I say.

He chuckles.

"If that happened, first of all, I would get quite a lot of skills in a short while. Second of all, I am so fucking bad that it's more likely I'd suffocate you, shortie," he says.

"Better than me, that's for sure," I say.

"In it's most basic form, you can use football quite a lot with the footwork," Kenny says.

He drags me off the wall. I laugh, although it's cut short by the fact he has his hands on my shoulders.

"I'll just improvise, personally," he says.

I can literally feel my face going green.

"I-eh," I say.

He takes one hand off and spins around to take left hand with his right.

"That's not right. Fuck it," he says.

He spins around again, this time getting closer to me. Next thing he does is come to the front. He starts moving along to the rhythm.

"I haven't danced since fifth grade," I say, terrified at the realization.

He laughs.

"You just need to have fun. We're not fitting into the rhythm at all here," he says.

I just look around for help.

"Come on!" He says.

He spins away from me, getting back the same way.

"How do you not get dizzy? You're spinning a lot," I say.

He laugh.

"I can do some far more complicated shit," he says.

He, at a very quick speed, starts doing the same thing from... soccer practice?

"It literally looks the same, it's an illusion," Kenny says.

He does the all to familiar, terrifying, soccer move where you have one foot on the ball and go 180 degrees. Only without the ball.

"You're not improvising," I say.

"Yeah, I am," he says.

He gets back to me, taking me by the hand. He rises them.

"Spin under. It's a lot of fun," he says.

I do as he tells me to.

"Everyone is so fucking consistent here and then there is us, going from things you do in Finnish dances to modern pop," Kenny says.

He gets back close enough to hold onto my shoulders, moving pretty nicely to the rhythm.

"You sing. You should know how to rhythm things out. Not just stand there," Kenny says.

At this point, I'm too confused to follow what he's doing. I mean I'm looking at it, trying to focus but nothing is actually registering...

"I don't think you are doing enough to count as dancing," Kenny says.

The song ends, leading the next one to begin. There is the easy to recognize fact this is for older people.

"Oh my God, that's literally the song for Cicapo!" Kenny says.

He is giggling like a small child.

"What?" I ask.

He face palms.

"Good God. Do you even talk to Finnish people?" He asks.

"No, I don't understand Finnish," I say.

He laughs.

"You're doing inner," he says.

He shows me by walking a couple of steps before doing a step to either side, still standing in a straight line. He does this again before clapping ones, which he takes two steps to the left after, clapping again and going back to his place.

"I swear to God, that looks so hard," I say.

He bursts out laughing.

"It's really not," he says.

He laughs and takes me by the hand, taking a couple of steps forward, then the leg thing again, then steps, then the leg thing, he then claps and goes left.

"You go right," he says.

So I do as he tells me to. Coming back.

"Not my thing," I say.

"We could do something you like someday. As a date, maybe?" He asks.

I smirk.

"Certainly," I say.

He kisses me.