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“I'm home sensei!”
The apartment was warm and bright, as it always was when Genos had any say in things, welcoming to any person who stepped through the door. To most visitors that welcome was merely polite, but to the person who was the official tenet, it was deep and sincere.
Genos looked up from his notebook. “You don't have to call me that, Saitama-kun.”
“I know, but I like how uncomfortable it makes you.” Saitama grinned as he hopped out of his shoes. Plastic slip-ons with air holes over the toes, a couple of which Saitama had clipped charms into. Genos knew he was young, and the young should be allowed to explore their own sense of style while it wouldn't have consequences, but he worried about the kind of image his student was projecting.
“I started cooking lunch, will you join me for it?”
“I ate earlier,” Saitama said. He slipped into the kitchen to check on it anyway. “Ooh, the good miso. Okay, I'll have some.”
Saitama-kun was young. Those words kept repeating themselves in Genos' mind. He was only nineteen, it was entirely possible he was still growing, and his body was so muscular he hardly had any body fat. He needed to eat a lot, he needed to sleep in, he needed... he needed...
“Thanks, sensei.”
“You're welcome, Saitama-kun.”
The food wouldn't be ready for a few minutes yet. Saitama settled down at the table with the manga he'd just purchased and an orange, peeling it with one hand, careful not to get juice on the pages.
Saitama-kun looked older than he was thanks to his early hair loss and the aforementioned musculature. Genos didn't know how long he'd lived in this apartment alone. Was he eighteen when he rented it? Had he lied about his age, or had anyone even asked? Had there been neighbors at first?
Genos knew he wasn't exactly wanted. Saitama hadn't invited him to move in, had resisted it until Genos demonstrated how much money he could contribute to the household. But he thought Saitama had changed since he started living here. He'd gotten more relaxed, more comfortable... happier.
“Saitama-kun, I know you don't want to talk about this-”
Saitama groaned and shoved a quarter of the orange into his mouth at once.
“But entrance exams are coming up soon. Are you sure you don't want to try?”
Saitama nodded, then shook his head, then swallowed. “I'm sure I don't want to.”
“You're very smart-”
“I'm not.”
“Well you're not incapable.”
Saitama laughed. “You can't even lie to make me feel better.”
Genos' systems began to heat up. “Saitama-kun, there's no reason you couldn't get into college.”
“I know. I mean, I'd need to brush up on stuff but I could probably get into a college.” He shrugged. “I don't care. There's nothing I want to do that I'd need a college education for.”
“But do you really want to put limits yourself?”
He shrugged again. “Are you going to stop teaching me to be a hero?”
“No.”
“Then why do you care if I go to college or not? You didn't.”
“I couldn't afford to, at the time.”
“Neither can I!”
“I-” Genos couldn't meet Saitama's eyes. He unnecessarily straightened the pages of his notebook. “I could... pay for it.”
Saitama slammed his hands on the table. It didn't crack, his control over his immense strength always impressive. “You are not paying for me to go to college. Or anything else ridiculous like that.”
Genos nodded slowly. “I apologize if I crossed a line, Saitama-kun. Excuse me, I need to check on lunch.”
Once he was out of sight, Genos let out a slow breath with clouds of steam in it. The soup needed stirring, the rice was finished and should be scooped out before it overcooked, the dumplings would still be a few minutes. He set to work on autopilot, head spinning.
Saitama-kun was young. Saitama-kun was young. Saitama-kun needed guidance, he needed a future.
It was only a few months ago that they met. Saitama saved Genos from yet another fight in which he got in over his head, and when Saitama learned Genos was a freelance hero he asked for help in doing the same. When Saitama learned he could get paid for the things he'd been doing for fun all this time, they both signed up.
Genos didn't know if he was really a hero in the way Saitama wanted to be. Genos had a goal, and being a hero was a convenient way to gather information. He defeated monsters and saved people because it would have been cruel not to when he encountered such things. He didn't really care about the ideals others seemed to spout.
Saitama was the real hero. But Saitama-kun was young.
“'Scuse me sensei,” Saitama stood in the doorway. He had his orange peel in his hand, and scooted around to throw it away, a hand on Genos' hip for balance in the small kitchen. Genos couldn't stop a puff of steam from his shoulders. “Getting all hot and bothered again?” Saitama asked, teasing. If only he knew.
“Saitama-kun, I think I should move out.”
Saitama blinked. “Ah.”
“I can continue to help with your rent-”
“No, no,” Saitama said quickly. “You don't have to. I do all right.”
“Very well then. I will begin looking for my own place. Preferably nearby.”
“Oh.” Saitama perked up, just enough that Genos could tell he'd drooped. “Nearby?”
“If you still want to learn from me, Saitama-kun. And I would still like to study you, with your permission.”
“Yeah I don't care.” Saitama peered at the dumplings. “What kind did you make?”
“Beef.”
“Nice.”
He didn't leave, stayed and watched as Genos finished fixing lunch. They went back to the table together, ate together, argued companionably about which news program was better (Genos favored national, Saitama liked local), and nothing more was said about either college or Genos moving out.
At least until it approached dinner time, and Saitama stood up suddenly. “Sensei, do you want to go out with me?”
“Okay, Saitama-kun. Where did you want to go?”
Saitama started to answer, but closed his mouth and shook his head.
“Saitama-kun?”
“I dunno. Where do you want to go?”
“I don't have a preference.”
“What about sparring? Do you want to spar first?”
Genos felt his eyebrows shoot up. “You want to? I thought you didn't like it.”
“It's a hassle, but you like it, right?”
“Saitama-kun, what's this about?”
“I...” He mumbled something Genos couldn't make out.
“What?”
Another mumble.
“Saitama-kun?”
“I'm trying to figure out if you like me!” Saitama snapped.
Genos blinked. “Of course I do, Saitama-kun. I'm very fond of you.”
“Not like that!” He threw up his hands. “Oh, forget it. You'd have said something by now if you did, right?”
“Did what?”
“Oh my god.” Saitama offered his hand to help Genos to his feet, something he usually only did if Genos had been recently repaired. He didn't let go once Genos was standing, held on tight to his hand, enough pressure that Genos knew if he tried to pull away he'd be damaged. “Sen- Genos, why do you think you should move out?”
Genos took a second to compose his thoughts. “I know that... you never really wanted me here.”
“Doesn't mean I want you to go now.”
Genos said nothing.
“Why now?”
Nothing.
“Genos?”
“Because...” Saitama-kun was young, and if Genos forced his feelings on him, led him into a relationship he wasn't ready for, he would never be all he had the potential to be. “I have... nothing else to teach you.”
“Bud, you never did.”
Genos snorted. Oil was gathering in his eyes, the human part of him demanding tears even though they served no practical purpose for his cyborg body. “You may be right.”
“Genos?” Saitama's face was very close – when had it gotten so close? – and his voice was low. “Is it too hard? Is that why? Because it- it's not easy for me either, you know? Being close to somebody. Caring about somebody.”
“It's not easy,” Genos admitted softly.
“But it feels better. The highs. I- I don't want to stop feeling like this.” Saitama closed his eyes, which was almost worse. His eyelashes were deep black and laid softly on his youthful cheeks. “I don't want you to go.”
“I have to,” Genos said.
“Why?”
“Because I'm not strong enough to keep my hands to myself.”
“Who said you had to do that?”
Saitama tilted his head up, closing the short distance between them and kissing Genos on the mouth. Genos sucked in a breath through his nose and jerked backward. Saitama released his hand, allowing him to pull away without struggle.
“Saitama-kun-”
“Do you think I can't make my own choices?” Saitama snapped. “Do you think you know better?”
“No, I only-”
“I know you think I can do better with my life, but what about what I want? This-” He spread his arms, encompassing the apartment, Genos, their careers, “is what I want. Just this. You and me and- and a little place that's ours, and... This is it. I couldn't ask for more.”
Genos felt the tears drip down his cheeks. “You deserve more.”
“So do you! But if you want me, and I want you, then... then isn't it enough?” Saitama took a shaky breath. Genos had never seen him this emotional. “Do you know why I decided to quit cram school and spend my free time training to be a hero? Because I realized I didn't care enough about anything to keep living. I didn't care if I died. It kinda seemed preferable to keeping going the way I had been.”
Genos shook his head, pressed his hand to his mouth in a futile attempt to stop crying.
“You make me happy, Genos. You make me look forward to stuff. I-” He smiled. “I love you.”
“But-” Genos blurted.
“There's no but. I love you! Either that's enough for you, or it's not.”
Genos used his collar to wipe his eyes. It would stain, but his metal hands couldn't wipe the oil well. “It's enough. It's- I love you too, Saitama-kun.”
“Okay.” He moved closer, tilted his head back, and Genos took the invitation and kissed him. “Do you wanna go out with me?” Saitama murmured against his mouth.
“Where?”
“In general.”
“Oh! Yes, Saitama-kun. I do. Very much.”
“Okay.” Saitama kissed him for a third time. Genos got the feeling he was going to be logging every one of these in his journals. “Udon?”
“Udon sounds nice.”