Work Text:
gaymell has posted a new video: New Tattoo(s)!
Jeremy lays on a chair, a tattoo artist working on his arm.
“Michael, I swear to god — FUCK OW!”
“Hey guys! Welcome back to the gayest channel on YouTube.” Michael says, grinning. “I’m here today with Jer,” he points the camera to Jeremy, clad in sunglasses, he waves as he controls the steering wheel, “what are we doing today?”
Jeremy looks over at the camera, “We're getting tattoos.”
“Eyes on the road, you twink.” Michael says, turning the camera back to himself.
The video shakes, and Michael glares playfully at Jeremy. “Hey! This was expensive, don't smack it!”
“You once bought a two thousand dollar can of soda.”
“That was one time!” Michael defends himself, and Jeremy’s hand comes from the side of the screen, smushing Michael’s face.
“Hands wrapped around the wheel, you're sending bad messages to our viewers, twink.”
“I bet my hands would look better wrapped around —”
“Jeremiah Heere!”
Jeremy’s laughing is heard off-screen, and his hand moved back out of the frame.
“Anyway,” a slightly flustered Michael says, glaring at Jeremy, “We’re finally getting tattoos like we’ve talked about. Jer’s finally stopped being a wuss.”
“Needles are scary!”
“Sure they are, Jer-bear. So we’re getting matching ones, obviously. Who would we be if we didn't get matching tattoos?”
“Normal.” Jeremy pipes in.
“We make videos of ourselves for people to watch as entertainment, and we are shipped together, we will never be normal.”
Michael turns the camera to Jeremy, who looks like he just realized something. The screen zooms in on his face, and he bats it away.
The video changes to a tattoo parlor. Michael is laying on a chair, the tattoo artist prepping his right arm. He wipes it down with disinfectant, “You ready?” Jeremy asks from behind the camera.
“I was born ready,” Michael nods, grinning.
The tattoo artist grabs a needle, “You're gonna want to stay as still—”
The video cuts to Jeremy, sitting on the marijuana chair, clearly struggling with Michael.
“Hey guys, this is future editing Jeremy here, Michael just made me cut the footage of him getting the tattoo because he started crying like a baby.”
Michael's hand squishes Jeremy’s face, pushing him out of frame. “I did not cry, I merely sweated from my eyes.”
“He admitted it! He cried!”
“I SWEAT FROM MY EYES, PEOPLE DO THAT, JEREMY.”
“Yeah, it's called crying.”
"I swear to my Lord Jesus, Jeremy."
“FUCK Michael how did you convince me to do this?” Jeremy’s words dissolve into a very loud voice crack. He’s laying on the chair, his left forearm being tattooed.
“You agreed to this of your own free will.” Michael says from behind the camera. “Anyway, I tweeted out that we were getting tattoos, and we’ve got some suggestions.”
Jeremy nods as the tattoo artist stops scraping his arm and grabs another color. “Let me guess, matching dicks?”
“Almost, matching dicks with wings,” Michael corrects, and Jeremy laughs.
“We've also got some suggestions for our names, a hot dog holding a slushie, mountain dew red, and ‘Chillers.’”
“Oh yeah, let's totally get ‘Chillers’ tattooed across our foreheads,” Jeremy says sarcastically as the tattoo artist begins to work on his arm again.
“We should get our names tattooed and be even gayer than we already are.”
“Oh my god, Michael,” Jeremy puts his arm over his heart. “I’m so glad you came out to me.”
“Shut up and get tattooed, straight boy.”
Jeremy puts his free arm over his eyes. “This is biphobia.”
“Wait what,” Michael says from behind the camera. “Back up, when were you going to tell me this?”
Jeremy removes his arm, looking just above the camera. “Tell you what?”
“That you’re bi.”
Jeremy makes a confused face. “I already did?”
Michael scoffs. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
The camera zooms in on Jeremy’s face. “When?”
“When we filmed that one video, you know. When you were high and complaining about having no mountain dew—”
“You can’t tell me important shit like that when you’re high, Jeremy! I don’t remember anything when I’m high!”
The tattoo artist snorts a little bit.
“Well, sorry!”
The camera turns shakily towards Michael giving a dull-ass face. “I said I was sorry!” Jeremy says off-camera.
The scene cuts to Jeremy sitting next to Michael.
Michael crosses his arms. “I can’t believe you had to audacity to tell me you’re bi when I was high.”
“You’ve literally seen me makeout with boys, Michael.”
Michael snorts really extra, moving his body with the snort. “That was on a dare!”
Jeremy looks away, pursing his lips. “Never said I didn’t like it.”
Michael presses his fingertips against his temples, looking down, his eyes wide.
Jeremy smiles and turns to the camera. “Bye guys.”
The word “EXTRAS” comes up on a black screen.
Jeremy is sitting on the table, flexing his non-existent muscles.
The camera zooms in and out, “Look at those muscles, ladies! He’s single! Hit him up at five zero two—”
“Michael!”
Michael is sitting in the passenger seat, Jeremy is laughing off camera. “Please say that again for everyone.”
“Fuck no.”
“Say it.”
“No.”
“I’m not saying ‘say it’ again, this isn’t Twilight.”
Michael groans, covering his face. “Let me hit that thick thrussy.”
Jeremy starts wheeze—laughing. The camera gets closer to Michael.
He bats it away.
The camera is pointed towards the floor.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re bi.” Michael says.
“Hey, I did. It’s not my fault you don’t remember anything when you’re high.” Jeremy responds.
Michael huffs. “I’ve literally —” A long bleep is inserted.
“Michael I was recording!”
“Just fucking bleep it out, they won’t know what I said.”
“Shit—okay—” The camera wobbles then turns off.