The gymnasium of U.A. High School was a cavern of shadows after hours, the dim overhead lights casting long, ghostly streaks across the polished floor. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and metal, punctuated by the rhythmic thud of Izuku Midoriya—better known as Deku—pushing his body to its limits. His green hair was plastered to his forehead, damp with perspiration, and his breathing came in sharp, ragged gasps as he swung himself across the uneven bars. Every muscle in his body screamed, but he ignored it. He had to be better. Stronger. Worthy.
What he didn’t account for was the slick. As an Omega, his body had a way of betraying him under stress, a natural reaction he couldn’t always control. It mingled with the sweat on his skin, making his grip on the bars precarious at best. Still, he gritted his teeth and pushed on, determined to nail this maneuver.
He didn’t hear the door creak open. Didn’t notice the quiet footsteps of Shoto Todoroki, the Alpha prodigy with his signature dual-colored hair and piercing heterochromatic gaze, stepping into the gym. Shoto had been passing by the dormitory halls when he’d noticed the faint glow of the gym lights through the window. It was nearly midnight. Who the hell was training this late? His instincts—sharpened by years of discipline and a nagging sense of responsibility—told him it was probably Deku. The guy never knew when to quit.
“Deku,” Shoto called out, his voice a cool, measured drawl that cut through the silence. “You planning to sleep here, or are you just allergic to rest?”
Izuku startled, his focus snapping. His hands slipped on the bar, slick and sweat conspiring against him, and with a yelp, he lost his grip entirely. His body twisted mid-air in a frantic attempt to regain control, but gravity was a cruel mistress. He plummeted—straight into Shoto, who had instinctively moved forward to catch him.
The collision was chaos. Izuku’s body slammed into Shoto’s chest, knocking the Alpha back a step, and in the awkward tangle of limbs, Izuku’s slick-smeared arm dragged across Shoto’s face. They hit the ground together, a heap of limbs and muffled curses, the sharp, musky scent of Omega slick hanging heavy in the air.
“Oh my god, Todoroki, I’m so sorry!” Izuku scrambled to his knees, his face flaming red as he realized the full extent of the disaster. He wiped his hands on his shorts, as if that could erase what had just happened. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t see you, and I—oh god, are you okay?”
Shoto sat up slowly, one hand wiping at his cheek where the slick had smeared. His expression was unreadable for a moment, a flicker of irritation in his mismatched eyes before it morphed into something else—something dangerously close to amusement. He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm. “Well, Deku, if I wanted a face mask, I’d have gone to a spa. What the hell was that?”
Izuku groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m such an idiot. I was just trying to get this move right, and I didn’t expect anyone to be here, and now I’ve—ugh, I’ve basically assaulted you with my… my stupid biology. I’m so sorry.”
“Assaulted?” Shoto echoed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back on his hands, looking far too composed for someone who’d just been tackled. “That’s a strong word. I’d say ‘slathered’ is more accurate. Or maybe ‘baptized.’”
Izuku peeked through his fingers, his embarrassment warring with a sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You’re not funny, Todoroki.”
“Oh, I’m hilarious,” Shoto shot back, his tone cool but his eyes glinting with mischief. “You, on the other hand, are a walking hazard. Do you always train until you’re a slippery mess, or is this a special performance just for me?”
Izuku’s jaw dropped, his blush deepening. “That’s not—I’m not—ugh, stop making it worse! I’m already dying over here!”
Shoto tilted his head, studying Izuku with an intensity that made the Omega squirm. “You’re not dying. You’re blushing. There’s a difference.” He wiped at his face again, more deliberately this time, and Izuku couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers lingered, the way his Alpha scent—crisp and sharp like frost and embers—seemed to intensify in response to the slick. It sent a shiver down Izuku’s spine, one he desperately tried to ignore.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Izuku muttered, crossing his arms defensively. “And stop… sniffing or whatever you’re doing. This is humiliating enough.”
Shoto’s smirk widened, but there was a heat in his gaze now, a flicker of something primal that made Izuku’s breath hitch. “I’m not sniffing. I’m breathing. Big difference. Though I gotta say, Deku, you’ve got a way of making an impression. Literally.”
Izuku groaned again, but there was a spark of defiance in his green eyes as he shot back, “Well, if you didn’t sneak up on people like some kind of icy ninja, maybe I wouldn’t have fallen on you! Ever think of that?”
“An icy ninja?” Shoto repeated, his tone mock-offended as he stood, brushing off his training pants. He offered a hand to Izuku, who hesitated before taking it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. “I’ll have you know I walked in like a normal person. You’re the one who decided to stage-dive without a crowd.”
Izuku rolled his eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Fine, fine. Point taken. But can we please never speak of this again? Like, ever?”
Shoto’s gaze lingered on him, sharp and unyielding, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with something unspoken. “No promises,” he said finally, his voice lower now, almost a purr. “But I’ll consider it… if you promise not to use me as a landing pad next time.”
Izuku opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue as he met Shoto’s eyes. There was something there, a shift, a heat that hadn’t been there before. It made his heart pound in a way that had nothing to do with training. He swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were standing, of the lingering scent of slick and Alpha musk mingling in the air.
“Deal,” he managed, his voice quieter than he intended.
Shoto’s lips twitched, just a fraction, before he stepped back, breaking the moment. “Good. Now go shower before you cause any more accidents. I’m not babysitting you all night.”
Izuku nodded, still flustered, and turned to grab his towel, desperate to escape the weight of that gaze. But as he walked away, he could feel Shoto’s eyes on him, a silent promise that this little mishap was far from forgotten. And somewhere deep down, beneath the embarrassment and the nerves, a tiny, dangerous part of him wasn’t entirely sorry for it.
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