Work Text:
Animated gunfire and magical effects exploded across the television screen, the oversaturated colors a blur of chaos around their characters. His controller buzzed harshly, health bar shaking as it dropped another heart. Cracked lips curled into a snarl, sparing a hand briefly to knock his mic back down and, "Spinner! Your other left, you idiot!"
"Sorry, boss!" The stupid lizard's voice half-shouted back, followed by a series of grumbles as he tried not to prematurely die for the ninth time that night. He'd give it maybe five minutes before the moron was stuck waiting on a respawn again. If there was anything Tomura had learned since he'd started letting the League play games with him on their off-days, it was that Spinner was god-awful at them.
They would pretend, for the sake of it, that it was still 'letting them play', that he was just humoring the idea of everyone getting along. That he didn't find enjoyment or comfort in the fact that his newfound family — friends — coworkers actually wanted to be a part of his hobbies these days. Most of them, at least, and those who didn't were still involved in these little bonding moments. In the connecting room, he could hear the idle chatter between Kurogiri and Compress; the familiar shuffling of poker cards, and the occasional good-natured laugh. Listening closer, he could occasionally catch Dabi chiming in, maybe mumbling something to Twice, seeming to prefer those conversations to actually turning his own microphone on. Still, his character never strayed too far on-screen, serving as a constant reminder that he was, in fact, engaged in the game itself. It certainly helped that he was less incompetent than —
"— I'm not convinced Spinner knows his left and right." Himiko's bright voice interrupted wandering thoughts over the voice-call (though she was really just in another room of the hideout), casual insult punctuated by one of her affectionate giggles. It was greeted by a series of laughter in return – Jin the loudest, but if anyone paid enough attention, they could catch Dabi's snicker beneath that.
Spinner's character floundered on the television, "First of all, rude —" As if on cue, another explosion of colors from the NPC enemies, and then his player was blinking out of its blood-splattered existence to return to the map's spawn point.
"Shot and a miss, dumbass." Dabi's voice crackled to life over the headset, a rarity that nobody would dare comment on, lest he stop again all-together. Hopefully, someday in that brighter future he was always talking about, he wouldn't feel like even the slightest bit of familiarity was dangerous. (Though if they were being squarely honest, Tomura had his speculations, possibly even concerns, that the other villain didn't actually intend to be there for those better days at all. He would puzzle out how to fix that later, if only he could figure out what was going on with the bastard and all his brittle secrets.)
For now, as cracking fingers mashed across the buttons, he decided to focus on what he could change. Like their team's ranking in this video game, even if that wasn't the fucking point of anything. "— Need a healer over here, damnit."
"Oh–! On my way!" And how happy the kid in the building sounded to be involved in something bigger than herself. Whether that was the League's activities and goals, or just helping her new friends (and he didn't have it in him to correct it from that perspective) with their games.
Maybe, if they could just reach that victory that kept slipping from their grasp, they could all be that happy. If they could tear down the false hope that the Symbol Of Peace provided, or at least correct hero society as it currently stood, like so many of the others wanted… If they could achieve all those desperate dreams that they'd come to him with, maybe their nightmares would finally end. Now he just needed to figure out how to get them there, without losing their found family in the process.