Deku's Unexpected Sip

The UA High School dormitory was cloaked in the kind of silence that only late nights can muster, a hush broken only by the occasional creak of a floorboard or the distant hum of a refrigerator. The communal kitchen, usually a hub of laughter and chaos, sat dimly lit by the under-cabinet lights, casting long shadows over the countertops. It was here, at nearly 2 a.m., that Izuku Midoriya—better known as Deku—stumbled in, his hero costume still clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, muscles aching from a brutal training session with All Might.

“Water... need water,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his bleary eyes as he shuffled toward the sink. His green hair stuck out in wild tufts, and his usual boundless energy was replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. He fumbled for a glass, but his gaze landed on one already sitting on the counter, half-full of a creamy, off-white liquid. “Huh. Almond milk? Someone must’ve left it out...”

Without a second thought, Deku grabbed the glass and tilted it back, chugging the contents in one desperate gulp. It was thicker than he expected, with an odd, salty tang that made his nose wrinkle. He smacked his lips, confused, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That... didn’t taste right. Maybe it’s expired?”

Before he could investigate further, the kitchen door swung open, and Shoto Todoroki stepped in, his dual-colored hair catching the faint light. He was dressed in a simple tank top and sweatpants, his expression as impassive as ever, though his mismatched eyes widened slightly at the sight of Deku holding the now-empty glass.

“Midoriya,” Todoroki said, his voice flat but carrying an edge of something unreadable. “What are you doing?”

Deku froze, the glass still in his hand, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Oh, hey, Todoroki! I, uh, just got back from training and I was super thirsty, so I saw this glass of... almond milk? I think? And I just—wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

Todoroki’s gaze flicked from Deku’s face to the empty glass, then back again. A rare flush of color crept up his neck, though his tone remained as monotone as ever. “That... wasn’t almond milk.”

Deku blinked, his brain lagging behind as he processed the words. “W-what do you mean it wasn’t—oh no. Oh no. What did I just drink?!” His voice climbed an octave, his hands flailing as he dropped the glass onto the counter with a clatter. “Todoroki, what was it?!”

Todoroki crossed his arms, looking anywhere but at Deku, his jaw tight. “It was... personal. A protein shake. Of sorts.” He paused, then added under his breath, “Very personal.”

Deku’s face turned a violent shade of red, his freckles practically glowing as the implication hit him like a freight train. “P-personal?! You mean—oh my god, no, no, no! I didn’t—I wouldn’t—how was I supposed to know?! It was just sitting there! Why would you leave something like that out in the open?!”

“I didn’t expect anyone to be rummaging through the kitchen at 2 a.m.,” Todoroki shot back, his voice still maddeningly calm, though a flicker of embarrassment danced in his eyes. “I was coming back to... dispose of it. Properly.”

“Dispose of it?!” Deku squeaked, clutching his head as if he could erase the last five minutes of his life. “I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die of embarrassment. Or worse! What if I get sick? What if—”

Before he could spiral further, the kitchen door swung open again, and Ochaco Uraraka strode in, her pink cheeks flushed with curiosity and her brown eyes sharp as she took in the scene. She was in a loose tank top and shorts, her hair mussed from sleep, but her presence filled the room with an undeniable authority. She crossed her arms, one hip cocked, and smirked at the two boys caught mid-panic.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, her voice dripping with amusement. “What’s all this racket about? I could hear Deku’s freakout from down the hall. Spill it, boys. What’s got you both looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Deku whirled around, his face somehow turning an even deeper shade of crimson. “U-Uraraka! It’s not what it looks like! I mean, it’s not anything! I just—I drank something I shouldn’t have, and now I’m—oh god, please don’t make me say it!”

Ochaco’s smirk widened, her eyes glinting with mischief as she stepped closer, her gaze flicking between Deku’s mortified expression and Todoroki’s stoic one. “Oh, I’m gonna make you say it, Deku. But first—” She turned to Todoroki, her tone sharpening like a blade. “Shoto, care to explain why our sweet little hero here looks like he’s about to combust? What exactly did he drink?”

Todoroki shifted uncomfortably, his usual composure cracking just enough for a faint blush to stain his cheeks. “It was... a private matter. A mistake. I left something on the counter that I shouldn’t have, and Midoriya consumed it without realizing what it was.”

Ochaco’s eyebrows shot up, and then, slowly, a wicked grin spread across her face as the pieces clicked together. She clapped a hand over her mouth, barely containing a laugh, before pointing an accusing finger at Todoroki. “You’re telling me you left your... special recipe out for anyone to just sip on? Shoto Todoroki, you absolute disaster. Do you have any idea how unhygienic that is? Not to mention irresponsible!”

“I didn’t think anyone would—” Todoroki started, but Ochaco cut him off with a wave of her hand, her eyes gleaming with a mix of exasperation and delight.

“Nope, no excuses. You’re lucky it was just Deku and not, say, Bakugo. Can you imagine the explosion—literal and figurative—if he’d taken a swig?” She turned to Deku, who was now half-hiding behind his hands, and her grin turned positively predatory. “And you, mister. What were you thinking, chugging random mystery liquids in the middle of the night? Don’t you know better than to trust anything in a dorm full of hormonal teenagers?”

“I-I thought it was almond milk!” Deku stammered, peeking out from between his fingers. “I was thirsty! I didn’t think—I mean, who leaves something like that just sitting there?!”

Ochaco stepped closer, her voice lowering into a teasing purr as she leaned in, her face inches from his. “Oh, Deku, you sweet, naive little bean. You’ve gotta be more careful. What if I’d left something out for you to try? Would you have gulped that down too, no questions asked?” She tapped his nose with a finger, making him flinch. “You’re lucky I’m here to keep an eye on you. Clearly, you can’t be trusted on your own.”

Deku’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, words failing him as Ochaco’s teasing hit its mark. “I—I didn’t mean to—Uraraka, please, can we just forget this ever happened?!”

“Not a chance,” she shot back, straightening up with a laugh. “This is comedy gold. I’m holding this over your head for at least a month. Maybe two.” She turned to Todoroki, her expression shifting to mock sternness. “And you, Shoto. Next time, label your... personal projects. Or better yet, don’t leave them lying around for innocent bystanders to stumble into. Got it?”

Todoroki gave a small, resigned nod, his face still tinged pink. “Understood. I’ll be more cautious.”

“Good boy,” Ochaco said with a wink, her tone dripping with playful authority. She clapped her hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. “Now, Deku, go rinse your mouth out—thoroughly. And Shoto, clean this counter before someone else decides to play taste-tester. I’m going back to bed, but don’t think for a second I’m done with either of you. This is just the beginning.”

With that, she sauntered out of the kitchen, leaving Deku and Todoroki in a stunned, awkward silence. Deku groaned, dragging a hand down his face, while Todoroki silently began wiping down the counter, avoiding eye contact.

“This is the worst night of my life,” Deku muttered under his breath.

Todoroki paused, then offered, deadpan as ever, “It could be worse. At least Uraraka didn’t take pictures.”

Deku’s head snapped up, horror dawning in his eyes. “Don’t even joke about that!”

As the two boys fumbled through the aftermath of their mortifying encounter, the air in the kitchen hung heavy with unspoken tension—and the promise of more chaos to come, especially under Ochaco’s unrelenting, commanding gaze.