Chapter Text
1:38am
Ochaco sighs and pulls herself out of bed. She’d been trying to sleep for hours now but whatever she does, it just wasn’t happening.
Might as well go make some tea, she thinks, sliding her feet into her pink slippers.
While making her way out of her room and into the kitchen as quietly as possible, she fondly thinks back to when her favorite green-head had gifted her the slippers she was currently wearing.
“I was at the shopping mall for the latest All Might action figure but I passed a shop and saw these in the little window and they reminded me of you!” he said, holding out a paper bag. Ochaco, face hot and hoping he couldn’t tell, stammered out a thanks as she looked inside the bag to find a pair of fluffy pink house slippers with bunny faces where the toes are.
She let out a squeal of delight before protesting that she couldn’t take this because “there’s no occasion and I didn’t get you anything and—” but Deku interrupted her with that sweet smile of his.
“Don’t worry about it! I love giving my friends gifts and I lost the receipt anyway so I can’t give them back. And it’s not like I could wear them.” He laughed. “They’re way too small for my feet!”
Ochaco smiles at this memory, one of very many where Deku was being sweet and kind and thoughtful and just… Deku!
She opens the door to the kitchen they all share, ready to blindly run her hand along the wall until she finds the light switch, when she realizes she doesn’t have to. The light was already on. And she wasn’t alone.
“Bakugou?”
He spins around, clearly startled. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks. Not really kind, but he was neither yelling nor insulting, so hey, Ochaco could take that. He was never really harsh with her at all, when she thinks about it. Whether this was due to lack of contact between them or the fact that Bakugou maybe tolerated (if this were anybody else, Ochaco would have said “liked” but it was common knowledge that Bakugou Katsuki only really liked one person) her, she didn’t know.
Then she remembers that he asked a question which meant that she is supposed to give an answer.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to come here to make tea. Tea always helps,” she says.
Bakugou nods slowly and his gaze falls on her slippers. She shifts uncomfortably, waiting for an insult, but Bakugou just lets out something between an annoyed sigh and a chuckle.
He turns back towards the kettle and tea cabinet, making no room for Ochaco to reach any of the supplies herself. So, she just hops onto the counter on his other side and patiently waits for him to be done, letting her thoughts wander to school and training and her parents and definitely not a certain sunshine boy.
“You should just tell him,” Bakugou suddenly says, pulling her out of her daydreams.
“Huh??”
There is a pause before he answers, as if he’s rethinking if he really wants to have this conversation.
“Tell him. Deku. How you feel about him,” he finally says.
Oh.
But no, he couldn’t possibly—
“And don’t waste my time by asking what I’m talking about or denying it. We both know what I mean and we both know that it’s true,” he adds.
Ochaco takes a second to process this.
“How did you know?” she asks.
Bakugou laughs. “Come on. You’re so obvious. I think the only person who doesn’t know is Deku himself.”
She can feel her face heating up.
“Which is exactly why you need to tell him.” Bakugou continues, “I know him. He either thinks you’re just really nice or he suspects something but would never, ever make a move.”
Ochaco frowns.
“Besides, it can’t possibly be that hard to confess your feelings to someone, especially if that someone is dumb little Deku.”
Ochaco smiles and decides not to point out that his insults towards Deku are starting to sound less like insults and more like terms of endearment.
Instead, she says, “Bold words from someone who’s afraid to confess his feelings to somebody like Kirishima.”
At this, Bakugou snaps his head around and for a moment, Ochaco is scared that he might explode (metaphorically or literally), but then his face and fists relax again. He takes a deep breath, in and out, before speaking.
“We are not talking about that right now. Or ever. That is not a thing we talk about.”
He seems to be finally done with making his tea, taking his cup and walking towards the door.
Before he leaves, he says, almost too quiet to catch, “You should really tell him. I’d make both of you happy or whatever. Or even more happy. Don’t get why you’re happy all the time, anyway. ‘S stupid.”
Ochaco can’t help but smile. He does care.
She turns around to finally make her own tea, but finds a teacup already waiting for her. It’s even the one she likes most, because it’s pink and she made it her mission to own everything in pink.
She tentatively takes a sip, careful not to burn her tongue (she does so anyway) and is yet again met with her favorite. Green tea with honey.
She exits the kitchen, cup in her hand and grin on her face, feeling as if she’s in on some sort of secret. And maybe she is. Because there are very very few people who see this side of Bakogou.
…
2:03am
Ochaco is back in bed, grateful for the tea, but even more so for the conversation that came with it.