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Momo sighs as she strains to reach her arms behind her back. If she was any smarter, she’d have her girlfriend do it for her; if she was any smarter, she wouldn’t have chosen this state of dress, and instead worn a suit.
“Oh, don’t you look darling,” Kyouka croons as she steps into the overly large room.
She takes Momo’s breath away. Her hair is neat and shiny, a clip of the ravenette’s making pinned into her hair. She’s wearing a traditional suit - trimmed slacks that trail up to a loose over-shirt - but where the vest once was, Kyouka has replaced it with a corset.
The girl in question smirks as she notices Momo’s gaze, doing a little performative twirl that makes her heeled boots click against the tile. “Like what you see?”
“Much so,” Momo admits, shaking away her stupor. “But, ah, would you mind helping me? This bustle just refuses to latch.”
“How do I…?” Kyouka blinks as she shifts to stand behind the other. “What the fuck is this, rocket science? Why are there so many buckles?”
Momo huffs, head tipping back in amusement. Add another tick mark to the existing list of why she loves her girlfriend - her riveting sense of humor. “Just do the one on the top, the other are adjustment systems.”
“If you say so.”
She waits until Kyouka is done and then twirls around, grabbing the skirt of her dress and brandishing it with a pout. “Just a bit more help?”
Her girlfriend sighs.
The party is going well, it seems; tables are decorated with vivid greens and blues that perfectly match the velvety emerald of Momo’s dress and the navy of Kyouka’s corset.
“I just want to know where you got it,” Momo says innocently, swirling the water in her glass - professional heroes don’t drink in public, after all.
Kyouka stares at her, unimpressed. “So you can buy more?”
“That’s not relevant.”
“But is it wrong?”
“...No,” Momo admits reluctantly, waving a hand. “But I have more than enough money, my dear, and you know I am very happy to spend it on you.”
“Precisely why I won’t let you,” Kyouka snipes back with a victorious grin. “Let’s just enjoy the night, yeah? If you behave, I’ll let you glance at the clothing website. Maybe.”
Momo just snorts. She knows, by now, that ‘maybe’ means yes. “Of course.”
The host stands up and clangs their glasses together, drawing the two’s attention.
“Thank you, our esteemed guests, for being here,” the host starts. “We appreciate your efforts and your kindness.”
With the host droning on in the background, Momo steals the moment to start studying the room. All movement has cut, and the people are sitting, so it’s ideal.
“Is that-?”
“Yes,” Kyouka murmurs into her glass, black lipstick smearing onto the sheer surface. “I saw them come in shortly after us.”
Momo barely avoids craning her neck to glance at her teacher once more. He cleans up well, she muses to herself, biting back a smile.
She barely recognized him, after all, in a smartly-tailored suit that hides his muscular frame. Momo is also relatively certain that the fabric of his vest is the same as that of his scarf; he’s either had it custom-made, or he just manipulated it himself.
…It’s probably the latter. She can’t see him planning ahead for an event that she knows he wouldn’t willingly attend in thirty years.
“Who’s he with?” Kyouka asks with a well-disguised cough, batting her lashes at some elderly woman who beams at them and then turns away without suspecting a thing. “I think that’s Mic-sensei…”
“It’s really none of our business,” Momo sighs, but she glances at them again anyways - only to meet the eyes of her teacher.
She squeaks, and very expertly doesn’t jump out of her chair.
“Abort the damn mission, dear, look away.”
Thankfully, she listens.
This party is dead boring.
Their teachers had checked out of the place before Momo and Kyouka could fight their way across the crowded dance floor, and the bustle strapped around the ravenette’s waist was beginning to become more and more cumbersome.
She almost wishes she hadn’t decided to follow the hero gala theme so literally, sighing under her breath as Kyouka dips her expertly.
“Something wrong?” the other murmurs into her ear, hot breath fanning over her skin and making her cheeks warm. “You’ve got that look about you.”
“Do I?” Momo raises a brow, playing dumb as she slides a small button from her wrist and presses it into Kyouka’s hand. “Whatever do you mean?”
With Kyouka’s arm snaking around her waist and expertly fastening it to the side of her skirt, she takes a breath - and thank god, she can finally breathe now that the weight is lessened.
The button was a special craft of hers, a mimicry of Ochako’s quirk that she couldn’t be more proud of. In all actuality, it just latched on and exerted opposite force, but it was the same in functionality, which is more than enough.
“You pout.”
“I do not!” Momo scoffs, tilting her head to the side to hide the roll of her eyes. This was her favorite and, simultaneously, least favorite part of the event - keeping up appearances. “My poker face is perfect.”
“Never around me, though,” Kyouka purrs, leaning in and pressing a swift, fleeting kiss to Momo’s cheek. “C’mon, darling, let’s get outta here.”
The outside air is nice, and the starry sky blinks and shimmers down at them as Kyouka takes her hand.
“I wasn’t expecting to see them,” Momo smiles, nudging her shoulder against the other’s side as they laugh together. “I think Mic-sensei had to force him into it!”
“I wouldn’t be shocked…”
“I hated that,” she admits softly. They still weren’t really out to the public, not their relationship as it was. Sure, everyone knew they were a couple, but they weren’t the type that many saw as normal. “Having to pretend.”
“You always do,” Kyouka murmurs, kissing her forehead and then leaning back.
The other then raises an eyebrow, squeezing Momo’s hand with a sly grin. “Let’s head home?”
Momo doesn’t even have to think before she nods.
“Yes, please, this bustle is actually going to kill me.”
“It can try, but I’ll burn it.”
Yes, tonight was a good night after all.