Shouto hates clubs. The unpleasant smell of sweat and alcohol that constantly permeates the humid air and the sticky bodies that press up against him (not so accidentally) irks him. This club, Plus Ultra is the name, seems to be on the fancier side, but it's still a club. It's Bakugou's birthday today, and the entire workplace was invited by his friends Kirishima and Kaminari who arranged the whole thing. It probably would not be well received by Shouto's peers if he didn't come, and he definitely didn't want any bad blood (however impossible it may seem since most of his colleagues are seemingly incapable of holding any sort of grudge whatsoever).
He's sitting on a stool at one of the dark corners of the bar, away from the powerful speakers belting out music he neither likes nor dislikes, where it is comparatively quiet. He takes a sip of his red wine and observes. The club is quite full, as expected on a Friday night. Some of his colleagues are making conversation with each other while some others are dancing to the music. He thinks he sees Bakugou surrounded by Kirishima and a few others, and for once the blonde looks quite embarrassed instead of angry. Before he could ponder a little more about the unusual change in the hot-headed man, something or, rather someone caught his attention.
A tall curvaceous woman was dancing by herself, a few feet away from him. Her dancing, or lack thereof was what caught his attention- she was an absolutely terrible dancer. She seemed to be dancing to a beat in her head, not the one in the club, but she genuinely seemed to be enjoying herself. Her eyes are sparkling, and her glossy lips are curved into a content smile as she dances.
As if sensing his stare, she turns her head towards his direction and their eyes meet. A moment later, his vision is suddenly filled with green.
Izuku stands in front of him, smiling his nervous but sincere smile. "Shouto-kun! You came!" He said, failing to hide his surprise. "How are you enjoying your time so far?"
"I don't like clubs." He speaks bluntly, taking another sip of his wine.
Izuku chuckles awkwardly. "I-I see. But it's nice to hang out with everyone once in a while ne?"
"Mm." He says in a non-committal manner before quickly glancing behind the green haired male to look for the woman from earlier. However, she is nowhere to be found-probably disappeared into the crowd.
"Come, let's go sit with Uraraka-san and Iida-kun." Izuku urges, gesturing to a table a few meters away from them. The aforementioned people in question wave at them excitedly.
Shouto complies and lets himself get pulled away by his friend.
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He comes back again next week, this time with Izuku, Uraraka and Iida. After hanging out with them last week, they seem to have taken it upon themselves to include Shouto in most of their activities. Which unfortunately included weekly visits to Plus Ultra because it "encourages camaraderie amongst colleagues which subsequently increases work productivity" as Iida so eloquently put it. Shouto wasn't complaining much because he genuinely liked their company-even if Iida was over bearing sometimes, and Uraraka's and Izuku's interactions reminded him of a high school romance drama (they're well into their twenties, it boggles him how those two can be so oblivious).
The four of them find a booth and settle into comfortable conversation while they wait for their drinks. Apparently, Iida's brother runs this club, so they get discounts on drinks and was informed by the man that they can stay as long as they want. Maybe this was why Bakugou's party was hosted here despite it being a pretty high-end place.
Their drinks arrive fairly soon. He takes a sip of his wine and is pleasantly surprised to find that it's of a more expensive brand. Must have been Iida's brother's doing, he thinks, pleased.
"Does Shouto-kun only drink red wine?" Uraraka asks while stirring her own drink which seemed to be a pink fruity cocktail of some kind. Somehow, he's not surprised by her choice of drink.
The other two look at Shouto as well, waiting for his reply. "Yes. I do enjoy the occasional rosé, but I dislike all other drinks." He says politely.
"So cool!" Shouto jumps a little at the declaration. Uraraka's eyes shine with admiration. "Shouto-kun is so classy!"
Iida tenaciously nods his head. "Nii-san says that accomplished men always drink wine or whiskey." He nurses his own glass of martini. "I have not developed a taste for either of those." He adds sombrely.
Uraraka giggles. "There, there Iida-kun. I'm sure they're all just misconceptions." She turns to Izuku who's adding more ice to his drink. "Deku-kun is classy but he likes beer!"
Izuku startles a little, almost spilling his beer before looking at the girl next to him, cheeks red. "I-I'm not classy at all! That definition fits Iida-kun and Shouto-kun much better than me."
The brunette smiles. "I think you're amazing!"
He thinks Izuku sputters in response, but he's no longer paying attention now that the focus isn't on him.
And just like last week, his hetero chromatic eyes scan the dance floor till they fall on a certain figure. It wasn't hard to find her, really. If not her height and unique hairstyle, her terrible dancing would have most definitely given her away. He can see her better now, as there is more lighting in this area. The way she dances is hypnotizing, and he finds that he can't look away. She's alone, just like last time, ignoring any and all offers from suitors to dance with her, and he thinks she looks riveting- dancing like no one's watching, the world her stage.
He must've been watching her a long time because they make eye contact and her onyx eyes sparkle with curiosity. He didn't look away as he had been caught anyway, but his heart still beats faster, expectantly.
She looks away a mere second later. He looks into his mostly full glass of wine, stomach feeling strangely light and wonders.
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The next time he goes to Plus Ultra, he's alone. Iida's brother greets him enthusiastically and ushers them to the luxury area they all shared last week, all the while saying, "Any friend of my brother's is a friend of mine". Shouto thanks him before settling down on one of the sofas.
He sees her a few seats away from him, wearing a backless red dress. Like always, she's by herself, taking occasional sips of her blue coloured drink.
The way she carries herself suggests that she's from an upper-class family, and he finds himself even more intrigued.
Twice is a coincidence. He doesn't know what three times implies, but he tries not to think too much about it. Before he knows it, he's walking towards her.
She looks at him when he takes the seat next to her, eyes wary yet inquisitive. She's prettier up close, dark eyes framed by thick lashes and lips painted an alluring red.
Neither of them says anything for a minute, waiting for the other to make the first move.
She does.
"I was wondering when you'd approach me." She says, looking at him with trepidation. Her eyes flick from him to her drink.
She's nervous, he notes. He is too, so he feels a little braver. "Me too." He admits.
She blinks. "What do you mean?"
"It just...happened. Spontaneously." he answers truthfully.
Her lips curve into a smile, and she no longer seems cautious of him. "Kind of like this?" She asks, and before he could reply, she's pulling him to the dance floor.
And he lets her.
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Shouto finds himself frequenting the club far more often, occasionally with a friend but alone most of the time. Since his job demands that he spend the entire week working, the only free time he gets are on Fridays and maybe Saturdays.
"You're a good dancer."
He looks up from his phone to look at her. He was texting a colleague about a report he wrote. "I was taught by the best." He answers honestly. As the heir to the Todoroki Empire, he was trained from a young age to be good at everything from studying to dancing.
The girl (she still hasn't told him her name yet) smiles wryly. "Nothing less to be expected from the heir to the Todoroki empire."
He inexplicably raises an eyebrow, surprised. "How do you know my last name? I only told you my first."
"I don't need words to know that." She answers, but he's left with even more questions now. How did she know? And who is she really?
The flashing lights of the club illuminate her face as she stirs her drink. Carefully so as to not let it spill.
"What is that blue drink you have every time I see you?" He asks, curiosity getting the better of him. He's usually not curious about unnecessary things like what a person likes or dislikes, but this girl intrigues him.
Instead of answering, she holds the glass out to him. "Try it." She says.
Their fingers touch briefly when he reaches out to take the glass. Absently, he notes that her fingers are cold, probably because of the ice in the glass.
He takes a sip and is surprised. It tastes like strawberry and mint. "It's a mock tail." He concludes.
She smiles confidently before replying. "I don't need alcohol to have a good time, Shouto-kun."
He recalls her wild dancing, and smirks. (Only she would have the confidence to dance like that without alcohol).
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He's with Izuku and Uraraka this time.
His gaze automatically lands on the sofa he and the girl shared the previous times he came here, but she wasn't there. He looks towards the dance floor next, but no luck there either.
"Who are you looking for?" Izuku asks him.
Shouto shrugs, eyes still roaming around, searching for that particular figure. "It's nothing." He dismisses. It really is nothing, he thinks. Why should he be so concerned about someone he barely knows?
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"Why won't you tell me your name?" Shouto whispers into her ear one day.
They're dancing to a slow song, and surprisingly, she's very good at slow dancing.
"Why do you want to know, Shouto-kun?" She counters, and she's so close he can smell the distinct scent of roses and feel every shaky breath she takes (mirroring his own breaths).
"I want to give a name to the woman who has intrigued me so much." He replies honestly, and he feels her laugh softly.
"Names hold more power than one can fathom, Todoroki-kun." She pauses. "I also like to think that my name doesn't define me." She draws tiny circles on his back and it inexplicably send tiny shivers down his spine.
"It doesn't have to. Everything about us is our own, including our name. Only we can define ourselves, no one else has the right to do or say otherwise."
She hesitates a little. "Momo." She finally says, head lifting up to look at him. "Call me Momo." Her grip on his shoulder suddenly becomes a little tighter.
"Momo." He tests the name out on his tongue and he thinks it suits her very well. Their eyes meet, and he finds himself smiling. "Nice to meet you, Momo."
Momo smiles back but doesn't say anything. She lays her head on his chest and he hopes that she doesn't hear his heart beat just a tad faster.
He comes back again next week, and as usual she's waiting for him at their usual spot, this time wearing a white gossamer dress.
"You're Yaoyorozu Momo aren't you?"
Momo doesn't look surprised at the question. Instead, she looks vaguely defeated. "Yes." She simply says, refusing to meet his eyes. "You figured out my identity." She lets out a nervous laugh. "Nothing less to be expected from Todoroki-kun."
"You're the girl that ran away a few months ago aren't you?" He asks (though he already knows the answer). "That's how you knew who I was. Our families are business partners." He adds as an afterthought.
Her silence answered his question.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
She's still looking down at her hands which are now bunching her dress together. "I didn't want you to judge me." She replies, and before he could say anything she continues. "I also didn't know if I could trust you with my secret. We haven't known each other long, and I was scared that you'd leave once you knew that I'm no longer a Yaoyorozu."
"Go out with me."
The abrupt declaration makes her look up at him, eyes wide. His words are demanding but his tone is questioning. Only Shouto could make those words sound polite, she thinks wryly. "You don't know me." She murmurs. "We've only known each other for about two months..." she trails off.
His lips curve to one side, as if expecting her response. "I know that you're brave and independent and beautiful. And when I'm with you," he pauses, as if contemplating whether he should continue his clumsy speech. "When I'm with you, I feel...free. I don't feel like I need to be in control of anything, and strangely enough, that's okay."
Their eyes meet, and he sees his reflection in them-on his face, he doesn't see any hesitation; only determination and a touch of expectation.
She doesn't say anything, but he thinks he already knows her answer.
"Dance with me." She says with a gentle, encouraging smile.
And he does.
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A/N:- Please don't take this piece of writing very seriously. I wrote this when I was in the train. Nevertheless, I hope you liked it and please do leave a review!