#slightlyyyy

With Iida, it’s a disaster. It’s rigid upright postures and an embarrassing lack of eye contact as they march along the floor like it’s some sacred duty, not dancing. Given the upper-class status of both their families, they’ve taken lessons in this particular venture before, but this reminds her less of ballroom etiquette and more of pivotal training drills. In the back of Momo’s mind, a harsh voice barks orders about where her hands should be and how to move her feet. She imagines she looks more like a terrified recruit than a partner, as though she wants to grab Iida’s arms tight for fear of falling but won’t dare secure her grip in case she - disgraces him? Like he would fall to his knees in despair over a misplaced hand or unsteady balance. 

Everything is so formulated. It’s utterly draining. It finally ends with Iida stepping back and offering a formal bow, like it’s a scripted act of formality that’s been drilled into his head his entire upbringing. Momo’s a bit like him in that regard, but certainly not to an extreme. She curtsies in response, polite but immensely exhausted. She accepts defeat and moves on. 

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Midoriya doesn’t make it past correctly positioning his hands. His arms flutter from hips to waist to some awkward place around her ribcage- and then quickly to her shoulders out of embarrassment. He burns as red as a tomato and Momo tries to assure him that he has potential to be a decent dancer if only he’d have more confidence in himself. Midoriya heeds her advice as best he can, though his footwork is still a bit off and they’re obviously out of sync. Eventually, he politely excuses himself and still, Momo has yet to find her equal.

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Dancing with Bakugou is a death match. Momo’s head is so dizzy that the walls tilt, turn, topple - but at least she’s twirling. They’ve reached that point at least; where she’s moving her body and knows how to hold her partner just tightly enough that neither of them spin apart and go crashing into another pair of dancers or clustered group of onlookers. Still, Bakugou is quite the opposite of gentle with his execution, seemingly hell-bent on showing everyone else up. There’s fiery rage in every step, flaming passion in his eyes. Ironically, his efforts give the phrase ‘burnin’ up the dance floor’ a whole new meaning. 

Momo can’t help but find his resoluteness hypocritical in an oddly comical sense, mostly because in the days leading up to the dance Bakugou’s opinion on this very event was limited to various phrases ranging from ‘sounds lame,’ to ‘this is so stupid.’ By the time their little soiree ends, Momo’s drenched in sweat from the intense heat and needs to lie down with a cold cloth over her head, feeling as though her legs are working against her body’s whims. Bakugou, like the true gentleman he is, is sure to express his disappointment in that she couldn’t keep up with him. 

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With Jiro, it’s like dancing with family. Their movements are simple and unpracticed but at least they can laugh about it. And at least they’re having fun. Kaminari occasionally calls out some encouragement and cackles every time they stumble, earning him dual looks of disdain in response. The dance is as relaxing as it is counterproductive, and Kaminari wastes no time in seizing the opportunity to interject. He approaches the pair under the guise of offering a few pointers. Jiro only scoffs at his attempt, but Momo agrees, stepping aside and allowing for Kaminari to take hold of Jiro’s hands. It doesn’t take Momo more than a few seconds to realize that had actually been his plan all along.  

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Ochaco’s dancing impresses her. She’s not even using her quirk yet it feels like she’s gliding, floating above the floor ever so lightly. A few elegant twirls together have Momo wondering if she’s simply a natural when it comes to balance and control. Ochaco’s darting steps and her practiced pirouettes are so smooth, so precise; it instantly catches the eyes of their classmates, as well as their intrigue. Momo notices her eyes are closed, and it’s easy to tell that the petite brunette is imagining herself in someone else’s arms. Just before they part, her eyes open again, but it’s not her partner she’s looking at. Momo follows her line of sight, ultimately leading her gaze toward Midoriya, who sits across the room, watching Ochaco with a bashful expression adorning his face. Momo opts against mentioning it.

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The problem with Kirishima is that he’s rather oblivious to what’s going on. The setup is about as random as a flip of a coin, but Momo is open to trying new things. That is until, they get moving. Kirishima carelessly tosses her arm to arm and absentmindedly watches her trip over her own feet where a more experienced dancer would return the intensity without skipping a beat. His tracks are graceless, but his effort makes up for the lack of tact in his movements. Perhaps he’s just on edge? Or maybe a little too eager? 

Of course, he receives only unwavering patience from Momo all through the ordeal, as it’s not completely unbearable. (And it’s definitely far too late to inquire how they even ended up as partners in the first place.) His arms randomly harden with every twist- and it’s hard to discern whether that’s simply a nervous tic or something done out of habit. At the very least, it’ll make for some interesting conversation later on in the dorms, Momo supposes.

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In spite of her exhaustion, Momo almost feels like she’s getting somewhere. While taking a quick break from fraternizing on the dance floor, she’s approached by yet another potential suitor.

Todoroki suggests they give it a try, his voice calm and barely audible above the music.

A light bulb goes off in Momo’s head as understanding dawns on her. Their collaboration is hardly a foreign concept; after all, they’ve worked together on several occasions prior. At the sports festival, for their final exam… And it’s no secret they certainly make a good team.

So she nods her head in agreement, half-smiling.

But why is she suddenly tensing up? Why is her heart fluttering as she reaches for his arm and follows him back to the dance floor?

She’s yet to come up with any sort of rationale to this sudden spark of emotions even after they’ve aligned themselves with one another. By now, she’s only half-confident that she can do this right, inexplicably intimidated by the expectant look he gives her. That is until, he takes her hand and holds her gently by the waist. She finds comfort in his touch, reassured by the implications of his actions and how he seems to radiate an air of quiet confidence. When they complete the first turn, it’s like magic- and everything else slowly falls into place. It’s as though the two of them are together in their own personal haven; a place where they’re free to explore all the possibilities of what they could be. 

Before long, she’s letting out small but vulnerable laughs against his chest and allows for him to lead the way as far as he wishes. Time becomes but a mere afterthought, and their surroundings seemingly blur out of focus. Dancing with Todoroki takes on the head-spinning shape of being in love, and Momo discovers she’s not afraid to edge closer, to move her hands wherever she pleases, to take the lead at his behest and dance with him like she’s been doing it all her life. In her head, she tries to compare this feeling to anything but all that comes to mind are half-remembered verses of poetry and those little gasps of breath from when she’d read of stolen kisses in her favorite romance stories.

That’s when it dawns on her.

This. This is meant to be.

By the end of the song, Momo feels dizzy and lightheaded, but accomplished.