Chapter Text
Midoriya Izuku woke up at seven in the evening with an ache in his side, a sore throat, someone laying on his legs, and little to no recollection of how he got that way.
First things first in the who-what-where-when-why-how; who. That being Shinsou, who most likely fell asleep shortly after Izuku himself did, subsequently falling over and covering the lower half of the greenette’s body with his own. Not that he could complain, though, it was like having a big, warm weighted blanket. That snored.
The only problem with this whole arrangement was that Shinsou’s poofy lavender hair tickled Izuku’s exposed midriff where his hoodie rode up. He tried shuffling around to get rid of the itchy feeling, but he couldn’t do all that much without the risk of waking up his friend.
Time to just wait it out until Hitoshi wakes up, I guess.
Waiting it out gave him plenty of time to piece together everything that happened this morning. All he knows for sure is that he took a bad hit from Scorpio, ran around for a while, and that his face made friends with the floor at some point. It all got fuzzy after that but he does remember playing some twenty-questions type game with Shinsou.
Yeah, that explains why Shinsou’s here.
Taking stock of how the rest of his body was doing, Izuku realized that his left arm felt like it was made of television static, asleep and pinned between his body and the back of the couch, along with where his legs were stuck beneath Shinsou. At least he wasn’t in a position that provoked his injury, but it still hurt like a buttcheek on a stick. The pain meds he took hours ago have long worn off, leaving his immune system to deal with a raging battle between venom and antivenom all by itself.
In his head he could imagine the antivenoms and antibodies as tiny soldiers on the front lines of battle, charging in at the evil venom with swords blazing. What if the tiny little white blood cells had families to go home to? Was there a baby blood cell in his body, alone, waiting for it’s father to come back from war?
Oh yeah, he definitely has a fever.
A mix of the hair still tickling his stomach and whatever fever-driven thoughts were going through his brain, Izuku started giggling to himself. It started small, and developed into heaving laughs that shook the couch.
Awakened by Midoriya’s movements, Hitoshi jolted out of his sleep. All things considered, waking up to your friend laughing hysterically after a traumatic experience was a little bit alarming. Looking up to meet Izuku’s glazed over eyes—with a little bit more of a glare than intended—his laughter slowly subsided to giggling hiccups.
“Y’r hair,” Izuku wheezed, combing a shaky hand through the tips of Shinshou’s fluffy purple locks.
Instead of getting up and doing something productive, Hitoshi opted to inch up so that his head rested above the hoodie’s cutoff, like the lazy bastard he was.
“Hitooo—” Midoriya drug out the last syllable of the nickname he spontaneously granted to Shinsou and for some reason stuck.
The aforementioned owner of the nickname dug his forehead into Izuku’s chest with a hum of acknowledgement, the fact that he would not be getting up any time soon left unsaid. With every attempt Midoriya made to remove himself from the other’s grasp, his arms tightened all the same. After a certain amount of time he just gave up, sighing as he shifted his body upwards to the best sitting position he could manage with Shinsou leeching onto him.
In his attempts to move his body, he must have irritated something near his wound, because he was pretty sure that feeling ice-cold needles crawling up his body was, in fact, not normal. In his surprise he failed to stifle a pained yelp from escaping his mouth, making Shinsou shoot up in alarm, causing him to elbow Midoriya in the side, and therefore activating every pain receptor on his torso.
His vision went white from the pain, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. Shit , did it hurt in so many flavors of ow .
“Oh my god—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I am so sorry,” Shinsou attempted to be as comforting as possible; running his fingers along Midoriya’s arm, talking in the low voice that he knew Midoriya liked for some reason.
At this point Izuku was reflexively crying from the sudden spikes of pain throughout his nervous system. Was it the worst he’s ever felt in his life? Definitely not, but it’s a lot to handle, especially now that the adrenaline wasn’t around to protect him anymore.
Shinsou himself wasn’t faring much better. “Fuckin’— I know , I know—just, uh, hold on there for a minute, okay?”
Hating to make his friend worry, Izuku tried for a weak thumbs-up, but his attempts ended up making him look like a pitiful hitchhiker.
Taking that as a sign that he could leave—but of course, not without a parting head pat—Hitoshi left the other boy to wallow in his misery on the couch for just a few moments while he gathered some items. Those being as such; some kind of store-brand Tylenol from the medicine cabinet, and a bottle of Gatorade that’s been sitting on the kitchen table since he got home. The over-the-counter painkillers were nothing close to what Izuku needs in terms of pain relief, but they’d have to do for now.
“Two-in-one,” he explained to Midoriya as he read the bottle for the right dosage, “to get rid of the fever and ease the pain a little.” He placed the two little tablets into Midoriya’s hand, and unscrewed the cap of the bottle of red Gatorade for when the other boy needed it.
Which apparently, he didn’t.
Midoriya’s face scrunched up from swallowing the pills dry because he’s a mad lad like that, but still reached his hand out for the bottle anyways. He shot Shinsou a pointed look when he took a swig and discovered that the drink was warm from sitting out on the table all day.
His friend didn’t have the heart to tell him that he looked like an angry bunny pouting like that.
“Yeah, I know,” the other couldn’t hold back a small smile as he answered, “forgot to put ‘em in the fridge this morning.”
He stood there at the side of the couch, very awkwardly might I add, while Midoriya didn’t even struggle to chug the entire half a litre of energy drink.
Mark him both scared and impressed. “How’s that feel?”
Izuku held back a gag. “Blegh.” Medicine in general made him feel uneasy, especially when he hasn’t eaten in nearly a day.
Shinsou looked away from his sitting form guiltily, knowing that he caused his friend pain; unintentional or not. “Yeah, sorry. Again.”
“It’s not—” the greenette choked on the bitter aftertaste, “It’s not your fault.”
God, how irritatingly forgiving Midoriya could be. “It literally is but go off I guess.” Shinsou lifted up the offending joint, covered by the thick black hoodie he kept at the apartment for colder days. “Look here at my elbow, it says ‘I’m guilty, I punched Midoriya right where he got stabbed a few hours ago, and I feel no remorse.”
His voice pitched up slightly in a mockery of what was supposed to be his elbow talking, the nasally tone holding no regrets for the atrocities it has committed.
Izuku went along with the bit, of course, and enthusiastically played the part of the jury. “Send him to jail!”
“Death penalty.” The other teen deadpanned.
“No!”
The corners of his mouth lifting up as he ignored his friend’s pleas of mercy on behalf of one of his joints, Shinsou picked up an empty bottle from the coffee table to represent a judge’s gavel.
“Nope, it’s decided, elbow of Hitoshi will be sentenced to death.”
“Free him!” Midoriya protested.
“Never.”
They were both stifling giggles at this point in their little performance. “He’s innocent!”
“Straight to the electric chair for him.”
He put his elbow on the empty electrical socket next to the one that the television was plugged into. “Any last words?”
“‘You’ll never take me alive!’” He mimicked the words with his hand, as if the arm itself was taking.
With one last damning glance, the lavender haired teen pushed the edge of his elbow onto the exposed socket. “Then perish.”
While Shinsou was making electrical noises with his mouth and moving his arm to mimic it getting electrocuted, Izuku absolutely lost his shit on the couch. We’re talking laughing his fucking ass off lmfao style. Wheezing, gasping, and loopy as all hell; having a grand ol’ time nonetheless. His laughter was infectious, latching into the other teen as he broke character to join the cacophony of laughter that filled the apartment. By the end of their collective fit, both boys were struggling to breathe, bracing on their arms to stay upright.
Hitoshi gave off his last chuckles, dizzied from the lack of oxygen going to his brain. “Yeah, what the fuck are we doing?”
Izuku shrugged his shoulders because, hey; it’s not like he has any idea of anything that he does anymore, but he’s still alive so he must be doing something right.
“Right, right,” Shinsou coughed a bit, catching his breath once again, “‘s there anything you wanna do?”
Izuku felt terribly unprepared at the moment, he would usually be a good ten minutes into his daily rant about a hero-or-whatsit by now. “I— I have movies?” Of, course, the safe option for when you want to spend time with someone but don’t actually want to do something that requires energy.
“Why are you saying that like it’s a question?”
“I don’t know!”
“Uh huh,” Shinsou got the message, anyways, “is that your way of asking if I want to watch a movie with you?”
“I uh—well, yeah?”
“Mmmmmmm.” He drew out a hum from the back of his throat, pondering his response. “Sure. Where are the movies?”
“They’re on the bottom of the bookshelf.” Midoriya made a light gesture towards a four-tiered shelf against the wall. Sure enough, there were about a dozen DVD cases in varying stages of decay sitting next to an impressive succulent. Shinsou leaned down to get a better look, reeling at the fact that, besides one Disney movie, every option involved All Might in some way.
Izuku sat sheepishly on the couch as Shinsou browsed the cases. “I know it’s not the greatest selection, but you can pick anything you want! I’ve seen them all before so it’s not a big deal.”
Shinsou paused reading the back cover summary of All Might’s Mighty Adventures III: Even Mightier to look back up at Izuku. “Well it’s no fun if you’ve already seen ‘em all,” he whined.
“Well,” Midoriya seemed offended, “do you happen to have a better idea then?”
“...”
“YouTube?”
“YouTube.”
They settled in on the couch with snacks on the coffee table and a blanket over their laps, queuing up a video from some popular gaming channel. The painkillers had worked well enough for Izuku to be able to readjust himself to a position curled up next to his friend without too much hassle.
“Hey—uh, Midoriya?” He perked up from where his head lay on Hitoshi’s shoulder. The video played on as he spoke. “You know how we owe a lot of money to Takashi, right?”
Midoriya made a face. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”
Shinsou took this as a sign to continue. “And, uh, you know how some YouTubers use their platform as their main source of income, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you’re really smart.”
“Yeah.”
“And I have a nice voice.”
“You sure do.”
“So what do you get when you put that all together?”
Midoriya thought about it. “When you put the YouTube… money… my intelligence… Hito’s voice…” he put his finger on his chin and worked out an imaginary equation, “you get—oh! Like an infochannel kind of thing?”
The other teen nodded. “Kinda? I was thinking more on the lines of conspiracy but I guess that’s similar.”
Izuku snapped his finger, understanding. “Like theories?”
His friend snapped in return. “Exactly.”
It took a lot to convince Midoriya to start a media presence. He, with his real identity, didn’t want to be perceived by anyone at all. With assurance from Shinsou that, yes, he would do all the talking and no, they wouldn’t be using real names for this kind of thing, they started to really get into it.
The thing was, though, they were both fourteen. Kids. No financial security, emotional maturity, or anything to fall back on in case this crazy plan of theirs backfired. They had to go all in if they wanted it to work. (Well, that was being a bit melodramatic)
Shinsou had to call in a favor.
TheManBehindTheSlaughter
Hey
The reply was instantaneous.
its_gonna_be_mei
dude!!!! ur alive!!!!
TheManBehindTheSlaughter
Yeah I know it’s been a while, how’s the server doing?
its_gonna_be_mei
obvi well, im the 1 running it ofc
haha jk jk minecraft programming isnt that hard to navigate
TheManBehindTheSlaughter
Good to know, I guess.
Listen, I have a favor to ask.
its_gonna_be_mei
no duh man u came online for the 1st time in months its not like you actually care ab how our server is doing
TheManBehindTheSlaughter
Ouch.
its_gonna_be_mei
nah bro its all good
what can i do 4 u?
TheManBehindTheSlaughter
How does one run a YouTube channel?
its_gonna_be_mei
…
oh finally
TheManBehindTheSlaughter
I’m sorry what?
its_gonna_be_mei
ive been bugging u to do asmr for y e a r s
is this the day???
the day that u admit that ur perfect 4 that lifestyle??
TheManBehindTheSlaughter
Ew no
It’s for me and a friend.
It’s also kind of hard to explain over text.
its_gonna_be_mei
Vc?
TheManBehindTheSlaughter
Yeah give me a moment
“Midoriya?” Shinsou called from where he was sitting at the kitchen table.
The greenette popped his head over the back of the couch, his head of curls bouncing in sync. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to voice chat with someone, do you want to join?”
“Uh, um, I’ll just listen in, or something.”
“Sounds good. Feel free to jump in if you want.”
He steeled himself for a moment, getting ready to enter the voice channel within the official BDSM (Boys Devalue the Sales of Minecraft and its related assets) server. Already there inside the channel was a lone icon; a shitty waluigi pride flag meme jpeg that hadn’t been changed in well over a year. And he knew exactly who it belonged to.
His phone pinged, letting him know that he entered the chat and his mic was on, ready for the long conversation ahead of him.
“How’ve you been, Hatsume?”