Please accept this as my apology (also in your tag you said you wanted Allison lifting Scott into the air? I do not know if that was a typo or a serious thing).
Everybody’s watching. Scott can feel his heart beating in his chest along with the music, a bossa nova against his ribcage. Allison spins delicately across the floor, gyrating her hips, and Scott has to force his eyes away from the movement and up to her face to search for confirmation that she’s ready for their next move.
It was all her idea (of course it was her idea). Think about it Scott, she’d said, eyes twinkling. It’s always the girl being tossed into the air. If I lifted youinstead of the other way around, we’d be a sensation! Scott doesn’t know a lot about dancing, but he does know that the girl typically doesn’t lift the guy. He’s wondering if, perhaps, physics are not on their side in this endeavor.
She twirls into his arms and sways against his hips. ”You ready?” she murmurs, keeping her eyes on the crowd.
“Not really,” he confesses. They’ve practiced this hundreds of times, sure, but he’s heavy. He’s a fucking werewolf for chrissakes. Panic is building in his chest. He’s going to fall, he’s going to crush her, everyone’s going to laugh -
She slides away from him and then spins back into his arms. ”Scott,” she whispers. ”Don’t worry. I got this.” And lord help him, one look in her eyes and he believes that she does.
She sashays across the floor to get into position. Her smile is wide, welcoming, and her arms look strong and sure. He starts his approach. She’s got me, he thinks. She’s got me. She’s got me she’s got me she’s got me she -
Has him. She. Has. Him. Her arms wrap around his waist, spinning him once, twice, three times -
The crowd is going absolutely insane -
And she loosens her hold, lets him slide slowly down her body to rest on the ground. Her face stretches into a smug grin as they fall into their last position and the music stops.
“Allison, holy shit,” Scott whispers.
“I told you I could do it,” she whispers back, voice triumphant.
They take their requiste bows and start to slide off the stage. As they move to towards the curtain, cheers echoing throughout the dance hall, Allison’s practiced stage smile melts into a smirk. ”Let’s see them give the trophy to Stiles and Derek now,” she says smugly, walking to their dressing room to stretch and take off her heels.
(Annnnnd now I have to apologize for the crack I just wrote. My bad.)