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“Guys?” Izuku’s raspy voice rings out in a tired tone, he lifts his head and winces at the pain. Yikes, okay, something is definitely broken. “Are we dead?”
He’s laying there in the middle of the battlefield, his costume torn and his eyes bleary. The world is spinning and all he could do was watch the sky above him.
Ochako blinks down at him.
She’s laying down on what is now an upturned road, most likely caused by Katsuki’s obnoxious need to show off any chance he gets. Her hair, now grown out and much longer than it was back in their first year, gently frames her face as she peers down at him from the ledge.
For a moment, he thinks, she looks absolutely ethereal, as though she was some sort of deity sent to help them. But then, he remembers, this is Ochako, and he watches her throw up whatever remained of her lunch on the broken asphalt.
This is one of the downsides of teamwork he supposes.
But hey, at least they didn’t die.
And they successfully managed to subdue the villains they were dealing with without having any civilian casualties while on the job.
That’s probably why he was laid out on his ass in the middle of the battleground with every bone in his body screaming at him to give them a break for once in his miserable eighteen years of life.
It was probably also the reason why Katsuki was limping towards them if the uneven steps and cussing were anything to go by. He would probably appreciate being able to actually move his limbs at that moment if he knew how much of a pain in the ass this really was.
“Deku?” Ochako’s voice rings out, a little hoarse but he just assumes it’s because of her recent upchuck session and not because of the fact that she was screaming for almost the entirety of the fight. Not that it wasn’t accounted for but his ears are probably gonna keep ringing for the next few days. “Are you alright?”
He opens his mouth to try and get a word or two out, anything really, but it seems like that last question was all he could manage. Again, he was very thankful they were all alive.
“Shut the fuck up,” is what’s stated instead. Katsuki is limping, which would’ve been absolutely laughable if his everywhere didn’t hurt at that moment. He hears a revolting squishy noise from the same direction Katsuki’s voice came from. “Mother of— hurry the fuck up asshats. You can talk about this shit later,” the squishy noise from earlier comes back and is followed by a grotesque pop, “as if I didn’t more of a reason to get into the fuckin’ shower.”
“Kacchan…” They’re in their third year now, provisional licenses in hand, so it’s expected of them to be thrown into dangerous situations like these, especially if they’re aiming to become pro heroes.
Doesn’t make it any less of a pain in the ass though.
“Shut up Bakugou, your voice hurts my brain.” He’s not quite sure how it happened, but Ochako grew up to be an all-around douche. Maybe it was the excessive time she’d spent training with Katsuki throughout the years, maybe she just acted sweet to hide the fact that she is one of the biggest assholes he’s had the pleasure of meeting. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, she’s always kind of been a bit of a douche, and she’ll most likely continue to be a douche well into her elder years.
“You talk so much shit for someone that just spilled her guts out for everyone to see.”
Maybe, Izuku thinks, they’ll both grow old and be douches together. But now is obviously not the time to be thinking about that.
“Guys,” he manages to croak out, his voice sounding like he smoked a million and one packs of cigarettes a day. Great, so only did he feel like shit, but he sounded like it too. He did not want to see what he looked like right now either.
“You can’t move anything, bastard, so don’t even bother.”
Izuku would like to say that Katsuki had mellowed out and he really would love to say that seeing as he’d known the menace for his entire life- but it ended up being more along the line of ‘ Bakugou just became white noise and we all kind of learned to deal with it’ .
“Dick…”
His lungs started to give up on him and he could feel himself passing out at any given moment. Was he really gonna die in the middle of an upturned street with both of his best friends at his side? He thought, no, maybe not. In a few moments, he knows he’s gonna wake up in the school infirmary with those two asshats laughing at the possibility that men’s genitals were going to be his last words.
“Awe, don’t swear ‘zuku, it doesn’t suit you very much.”
He tilts his back backward as much as he can, which isn’t much really but it’s the effort that counts, to glance at Ochako, still in the same position as he first saw her, still grinning like seeing him in this state makes this the best day of her life.
Bitch.
He still loves her though, and he has a feeling he always will.
“Didn’t suit you either maru, but here we fuckin are,” Katsuki retorts, ever so kindly.
Izuku closes his eyes and counts to ten.
Him too, I guess.
It’s quiet for a moment and Izuku thinks that maybe they both spontaneously dropped dead when he busied himself with his counting. He figures, no. that’s probably not what happened, seeing as Katsuki’s boots are still limping their way towards them and Ochako’s laughter is still ringing in the air.
“Alright, idiot, we’re getting you to the infirmary.”
Katsuki looks down at him with disdain, oh he’s definitely worried, and bends down to pick him up. It’s like they’re having that moment from their childhood again except this time, Katsuki’s the one reaching out, and Izuku’s physically incapable of doing anything to refuse the help.
“Fuckin’ whipped.”
And the moment’s gone.
Katsuki hauls Izuku in his arms properly before he turns back to Ochako, still laying on the ledge, smiling but otherwise unable to do anything else.
“You’re next bitch, just keep your ass on the ledge and I’ll be right with you.”
If Ochako gave a snarky response, he wouldn’t know because the next thing he knew, he was dead to the world.
Until further notice obviously.
And honestly, thank the gods for Recovery Girl because the next time Izuku had the pleasure of opening his eyes, he was faced with a passed-out Katuki and Ochako, both of which were wearing the same scrubs he knew he was dressed in.
“You look like shit.”
Izuku turns his head to find none other than Shouto staring back at him, holding two plastic bags filled with multiple packs of three-minute ramen.
“I feel like shit.”
His lips tilt up a bit and Izuku knows he finds this predicament hilarious.
“Swearing doesn’t suit you very much you know.”
Izuku scowls at him and tilts his head towards the two morons sleeping on the side of his bed. Of course, Ochako can swear but that’s only because she spent so much time training with Katsuki, but the moment he swears, it’s scandalous. They’re literally the same person.
But, a douche is a douche and only someone douchier can stain their reputation so maybe it makes sense. Maybe.
“It appears I’m not the first to make that statement.”
“You certainly wouldn’t be the last.”
Another quiet moment passes before Izuku decides he’s tired of the silence, it’s boring, it’s suffocating and his left foot really itches and he doesn’t care if it’ll wake that blonde sonovabitch but he needs to move .
“We almost fucking died.”
“I know,” Shouto places the bag on the floor next to the nightstand in the infirmary and walks over to the sink to pour himself a cup of water, “we all saw it on the news. Aizawa wants to speak with you three by the way. Something about gray hair and problem children.”
Izuku chuckles humourlessly and lays back down on the bed.
“Can’t wait to see what it’s gonna be like when we’re pros.”
“It’ll most likely be a lot worse,” Shouto leans against the wall of the infirmary and takes a sip from his cup, his eyes fill with a twinkle Izuku isn’t quite sure he’s really fond of.
“Kill yourself, Shouto.”
“Do me the favour.”