Work Text:
This was a bad idea.
Saitama shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, burying his nose against the overly large scarf Genos had insisted he wear. We’re not even dating , he thought bitterly as he stared out the train window, trying to remember why he’d let his student dictate what he’d wear to see his own family.
The scarf was warm, spitefully so. We’re not dating .
“Is something wrong, professor?” Genos asked. Saitama looked back from the window to find Genos looking at him intently, his golden-brown eyes sharp with scrutiny. “If you’re tired, you could spend the rest of the trip catching some rest,” he offered.
Saitama shrugged, pretty sure there was no way he was going to be able to sleep. “Nah, I’m fine,” he said dimly, letting his gaze drift from Genos and down to the notes he was scribbling. His eyes narrowed, catching on something.
“Is that more thesis work?” he asked, feeling some inward satisfaction at watching Genos shrink, his intent stare suddenly sheepish. “I thought we agreed -- no work during the trip.”
Genos carefully closed his notebook, tucking his pen into its spiral binding. “My apologies, professor,” he said. He looked more sorry than he sounded and Saitama doubted his sincerity. He likely only regretted getting caught. “It’s hard to pass up the opportunity to get some work done.”
Saitama grunted, and quickly realized he’d made a miscalculation. With nothing else to focus on, Genos was now staring at him. There was nothing to distract him, sitting here on a train halfway up a mountain. “The cows are cool,” Saitama said, glancing back out the window, biting at the inside of his cheek.
A hum, and then a few minutes of silence. Saitama could feel the weight of Genos’ gaze, could feel his ears going red under such intense attention. “Are you sure nothing is wrong, professor?” Genos asked, with a measure of genuine concern.
We’re not dating . The words flitted through Saitama’s mind again, a mantra at this point. They didn’t have to pretend until they were at his family’s place, but Genos was doing a good job of getting some practice in. “Why do you care? Nothing’s wrong,” he snapped, pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the train window.
The silence this time spoke volumes. He couldn’t see Genos but he could imagine his expression -- startled, taken aback, angry even. He didn’t want to look but really, he’d take anything over that probing glare at this point.
Or, that’s what he’d thought a moment ago. The guilt gnawing at his stomach was certainly enough to make him doubt that resolve.
“Professor, I do not intend to pry. I’m sorry if I--” Genos started, and Saitama resisted the urge to look at him. “No, I won’t apologize for being concerned, professor. Perhaps something to eat might help,” he said, abruptly standing and easing himself into the aisle.
Saitama jerked his head from the window and looked, but it was too late. Damn, that kid was fast. “Genos--” he started to say, but he was already out of earshot, down the aisle. Or was pretending not to hear. Either way… “The train food is so overpriced,” he grumbled, leaning his head against the train window and fidgeting with his coat pockets.
We’re not dating, but Genos is acting like…
Maybe it was better when Genos was staring at him after all.
.o.
“Good morning, Professor!” Genos said as he stepped into the classroom, currently occupied only by his assistant and the few eager students who managed to be a few minutes early like clockwork. He looked as put-together as ever, with a collared fleece pulled over a button-up shirt. “You seem happy,” Genos noted, what passed for a smile on his handsome face quirking at the corners of his mouth.
Saitama shrugged, trying to play off his good mood casually. “Had a good run,” he said as he handed Genos the folder full of exams to work on during the bulk of the class. Every assistant relationship was different, but he’d found early on that Genos was probably not going to be the graduate student that ultimately went into teaching.
It wasn’t that he was bad at it. He was just… scary. Five freshman students coming to his office hours in tears and one stern talking-to later had resulted in a working relationship that worked for them both. Genos didn’t have to teach and Saitama didn’t have to grade, except for finals.
The perfect arrangement. Except for the part where Genos got to bother him daily about advising his graduate thesis.
“I am not pursuing a Ph.D, professor,” he said, handing Saitama the folder back with the now-graded paperwork neatly tucked inside. “The faculty senate ruled that adjunct faculty can advise on projects that will not be submitted for doctoral consideration--”
“Why can’t you just do a graduate internship like all the other terminal master’s students?” Saitama asked as they headed back to the faculty offices. He immediately regretted it, practically feeling Genos deflate as he walked beside him with his hands buried in his jacket pockets. “Ah, that was rude. You should do school however you want, man.”
“No, you’re right. I would likely be better served working on something more practical,” Genos said, defeated. “You work on alternative theories for criminal behavior resonated with me so, I thought working with you might--”
“Hey, I know,” Saitama said, reaching to clap his taller assistant on the shoulder in as comforting of a gesture as he could muster. “You told me. I get it. I just think you’d be better off working with someone smarter,” he said, shrugging. “Or at least tenured,” he added when he felt Genos’ rebuttal bubbling up like lava from a volcano.
Genos was still half-spluttering defenses of Saitama’s academic credentials when they arrived back at the offices. They parted ways, Genos clearly unsatisfied with how his recent ask had gone, but Saitama was pretty sure he’d always have that grumpy defeated look on his face. Until Saitama said yes -- which he had no intention of doing. He wasn’t going to let Genos - the best forensics student they’d seen come through the department in years -- partner with someone who couldn’t even manage to do enough research to get tenured.
Genos might not want to go into academia, but law enforcement wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. They’d want his adviser to be someone -- not some unknown adjunct.
.o.
Some saltines, water, and a short sitting nap was all Saitama needed to feel a little less grumpy. “Sitting on a train that long can’t be good for you,” he groused as he stood up and stretched. Genos hummed, rattling off some statistic to prove Saitama’s point, reaching for their bags overhead. “I got those,” Saitama said, reaching up past him and grabbing both bags, hauling them off the train before finally handing Genos his once they were out in the open.
“So, the family is just me, my mom, and my sister,” Saitama explained as they made their way out of the station, absently searching for the sign pointing towards the main road. “And my sister’s boyfriend has been hanging out a lot more lately. But, that’s it really. Just try to be friendly with them, I guess,” he said with a shrug, not too worried about Genos’ ability to play nice.
No, that wasn’t what was bothering him about this plan. It was something else -- something Genos couldn’t really help.
“And listen, uh,” Saitama continued, rubbing at the back of his neck. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to pretend to be dating or anything,” he said. “You can just say you’re a student of mine--”
“Why would your mother invite a student home for New Year’s?” Genos asked, but immediately bowed his head. “My apologies Professor, not to interrupt you but--I would not want to impose, and to bring a student home for a family gathering seems to be against most practiced norms.”
“Hmm, maybe, but not a lot of people have students…”
“You are likely correct, Professor,” Genos said, nodding again. “It has been a long time since I’ve been to a family gathering. I am likely not well versed in current etiquette.”
Well, now Saitama just felt terrible. “It’s not that!” he said, but had to stop himself mid-rant as he looked left and right outside the train station, looking for street signs and traffic both. He gestured for them to go left, but then got back to his point. “You’re right, it’s a little weird to bring a student home. I just don’t know how else to pull this off,” he huffed.
“What do you mean professor?”
Saitama looked up and saw his childhood home looming in front of him -- it was minutes away now, minutes of his mother’s questions, his sister’s curiosity.
“I don’t think they’re gonna buy it,” he said, finally. The words felt like a weight on his lungs but saying them didn’t help -- he winced, feeling his chest tighten even more. “Not that you won’t be good at it, at pretending, but--” he said, stopping and rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand.
Genos stopped, rounding up beside him, his eyes a dangerous golden glare. “Come on, man,” Saitama said. “Who’d buy that you’re dating me? My mom thinks I’m great but I don’t think even she’d buy that we--,” he stopped, gesturing broadly between them, “--are dating. So maybe it’d be better if we just tell them the truth.”
“I don’t understand, professor,” Genos said again, confusion softening the hard planes of his expression. He looked softer when he was lost; cute, if Saitama was being honest. “Why wouldn’t your mother and sister believe it? Do they have reason to believe you’re lying?”
Saitama blinked. “No,” he said quickly, his shoulders slumping. “No, they’ll believe what I say. They might just be surprised to hear I’m dating someone so--I mean, you’re a catch and some, Genos. I don’t know how else to put it,” he said with a short laugh, realizing this was sounding ridiculous. He was ridiculous.
What kind of teacher dragged his student to dinner with his family?
We’re not dating .
“Well, I think you are a catch, professor,” Genos said simply, smiling as his confusion cleared. As though he’d figured out what was wrong. “Don’t worry, I’m sure my affection for you will seem genuine,” he said, and Saitama squinted, thinking he saw a crack in the facade.
Saitama hummed, scrutinizing his student but finding nothing else to make him worry. “You don’t have to try too hard or anything,” he said, reaching to clap Genos on the shoulder before taking a few steps forward, towards his family and their questions.
Genos didn’t respond, his gaze lowered in thought, even as he followed along dutifully, beside Saitama step for step. “I’ll do my best, professor,” he said finally and Saitama offered him a small smile, wondering what could be on his student’s mind.
.o.
Saitama hung up the phone, dropping it against his desk with a dull thud against the plywood. It was the fourth time his mother had called just this week and he was running out of excuses for why he couldn’t pick up.
There was a second thud -- this one not from inside the office. It sounded like someone had tripped; Saitama tilted his head and strode to the door, opening up and peeking out to see if someone was hurt -- but found his assistant hovering nearby, rubbing his upper arm as though it were sore.
“Genos,” Saitama said, eyes narrowing. “Were you--”
“Pardon the intrusion, professor,” Genos said, his posture unbearably stiff. Awkward. “The walls are thin and I couldn’t help but hear—is it true, you’re bringing someone home for the holidays?”
Saitama squinted. “So what if I am? You don’t have a problem with gay people, do you?” He asked, prepared to be genuinely disappointed.
But to Genos’ credit, he spluttered, clearly taken aback. “No, of course not! Professor, please, I’d never think any less of you or anyone else for being attracted to members of the same sex, in fact I have long suspect that I might be in the same boat so to speak though I haven’t made any explicit efforts to interrogate the possibility and I’ve been to preoccupied with my coursework to give it much thought—”
“Okay, too much information,” Saitama said, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, no, I’m not really bringing someone home. There’s no someone to bring home,” he said, sitting back in his desk chair and staring at the ceiling, searching for answers.
“So,” Genos hazarded, clearly realizing he was in dangerous — personal — territory. “You didn’t tell the truth? What will happen if you arrive home without someone?”
Saitama shrugged. “I hadn’t gotten that far yet,” he said, eyes narrowing as he noticed a crack in the ceiling paint. “Maybe I’d tell mom he died on the way or something.”
“Professor! That’s morbid! And then your mother might anticipate an invitation to the funeral…”
“Ugh, you’re right,” Saitama admitted, crossing that idea from the very-short ideas list. He sat up in his chair, pressing his elbows into his thighs so hard it nearly hurt. He steepled his fingers and leaned his chin against them, spinning his mental wheels but everything seemed stuck in mud. “I’ve got nothing. I ought to call her back and just tell her I lied—”
“Wait!”
Genos shouted, the word ringing sharp enough that Saitama was startled out of his contemplative sitting crouch. “Uh?”
Genos stalked up to the desk, looming over it and Saitama with a dangerously serious glint in his eyes. “I can be the someone.”
Saitama blinked, the phrasing throwing him for a loop. “You—? You can be the someone?”
“Yes,” Genos said, nodding in absolute seriousness. “Bring me home for the holidays. I can pretend to be your partner so that your mother doesn’t have to know you lied about having someone to bring,” he said, then managed a small smirk.
He clearly thought the idea was brilliant.
Saitama’s brain still felt like it was stuck in neutral, so any idea sounded better than no idea. “I mean, sure,” he said haltingly, something in the back of his head trying to get his attention without much success. “If you don’t mind. My folks live in the middle of nowhere, so…”
“I don’t mind. It’d be an honor, professor,” Genos said, the smirk widening into a small smile. Damn, he was handsome when he smiled…
Bad idea, bad idea… It flitted like a failing neon marquee at the back of his thoughts, but Genos was smiling and really, it sounded like a great idea. Visiting home might be less terrible if he got to bring someone from his real life with him on the trip. “Alright, then. Thanks man,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll text you the travel details…”
Genos nodded, pulling out his phone in turn. “Okay,” he said, quickly glancing at the itinerary before nodding again. “I’ll be at your place Friday?”
Saitama felt blood starting to pound in his ears and he had to swallow to say, “Sounds like a plan,” with Genos standing there smiling over him as though he was the one having a favor done for him. “Maybe we could uh--talk about your thesis,” he said, nearly coughing out the offer.
This felt wrong, otherwise. It felt like he was taking advantage. He had to do something -- anything, to not make this weird. “While we’re on the way. Even if I don’t advise you I can at least give you some advice maybe.”
It took a long moment for what he was saying to process, obviously. But as soon as it did, Saitama felt the neon in his mind flare, white-hot and bright and urgent. A smile broke out on Genos’ lips -- not the small smirk he made when he was feeling smug. An honest-to-God smile, and he looked happy.
“I would be very grateful, Professor,” he said, bowing his head.
Saitama swallowed thickly. He was so fucked.
.o.
“Why does Saitama get to sleep in the same room with his guest?”
Saitama’s mother glared at Himiko before turning back to smile at Genos sweetly. “Don’t mind her. It’s because we don’t have a spare room for Genos, dear.”
Himiko huffed, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. “It’s not fair,” she said, looking to Saitama instead for support. “Right, Sai?” she said, her eyes widening in a silent sibling-to-sibling plea.
Saitama swallowed, not wanting to step anywhere near his mother’s jurisdiction. “Eh, I dunno, Himi. Maybe it won’t be too bad to have a room to yourself. I know I like it back at my place,” he said, earning an approving hum from his mother.
“Whatever,” Himiko said, huffing again in expert fashion before stomping off.
Genos watched, genuinely perplexed, before turning to look back between Saitama and his mother. “My apologies if I caused a disturbance. I don’t mind whatever sleeping arrangement you think is best…”
Saitama’s mother shook her head, smiling wide at Genos again. “That’s sweet dear. You’re very considerate,” she said, glancing at Saitama with a slightly raised brow. “But Sai, you two are adults. I trust you to act appropriately while you visit, obviously,” she said, a gentle warning in her voice; Saitama felt the tips of his ears go red again and hoped Genos wouldn’t notice. “If the bed is too small, let me know and I can see about digging out the cot downstairs--”
The sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen cut her off, and she bustled by them both with a hurried excuse me , leaving Saitama standing outside his mother’s guest room with Genos beside him.
This was weird, officially.
We’re not dating .
“Was this your room, professor?” Genos asked as Saitam reached for the doorknob, twisting it to let them both inside.
“No, no,” Saitama said, wincing inwardly. He hadn’t meant to sound so defensive but, well… “I think it’d be weird if we were in the bedroom I had as a kid. Besides, mom turned it into an office, I guess. I don’t really want to see it,” he said with a dry laugh. “It’s depressing to think about, though I’m glad she’s getting use out of it.”
Genos hummed, eyes wide as he took everything in. The room was well-kept, with a double bed in the center of it, furnished with clean white sheets and a comforter. It looked like what Saitama imagined a hotel room might.
“She put a lot of effort into making it nice,” he murmured as he stepped in, feeling warmed by the thought. “She seems to like you, too,” he said, glancing up at Genos and away from the bed. If he sat down on it he knew it’d be hard to get up. “Nice job charming them both.”
“I was only myself, as you suggested, professor,” he said with a smile, taking the praise in stride.
“Hmm,” Saitama looked around, wondering where they’d put the cot. The room was small and he had no idea how hard it would be to get it. “I could make a bed out of some pillows and sleep on the floor. It won’t be much different from my place in the city,” he said, looking to Genos to assess the offer.
“No, professor!” Genos said, shaking his head so hard his blonde bangs shook. “This is your family home. If anything, I should sleep on the floor--”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor. You’re the guest--”
“And you, professor, have complained since the second hour of the trip on the train of being sore and I refuse to let you possibly injure yourself for my sake--”
“Fine,” Saitama said. “I know a stalemate when I see it. We’ll just have to share.
“Okay,” Genos said with a nod, and Saitama blinked, thinking he saw a hint of a smile on Genos’ lips.
.o.
Saitama couldn’t sleep.
The glowing green digits on the microwave read 4:07 -- an hour before he would usually be getting up to fit in his morning run. He wasn’t going for his run today -- they had a train to catch and he didn’t feel like being sweaty for that long of a ride.
No, he was up -- not for a run, not for any reason, really. He just couldn’t sleep, and it had nothing to do with Genos arriving on his doorstep in a few hours, luggage packed, ready to head to his family’s place to be Saitama’s plus-one for New Year’s.
Definitely had nothing to do with that.
This was a terrible idea and he knew it. No one would ever buy that he and Genos were dating, least of all Himiko. His mother might buy it, and he supposed that was all that mattered. Still, why did his student have to be so good? Good-looking, smart. Somehow managing to make people like him despite how aloof he was…
In another life, Saitama would have been jealous of him. Here, he was his professor and he knew they simply had different talents, a different value add. But that didn’t mean Genos was anywhere close to his league in terms of dating…
Dating. They weren’t dating; it was just pretending.
But his heart was pounding, and his mouth was dry, and his stomach was full of butterflies. It was amazing, what the human mind was capable of simulating even in patently false scenarios.
.o.
Waking up next to Genos… was… difficult…
Genos didn’t move much, so he didn’t kick or take up more space than he was due. But he was warm, and he was handsome, and Saitama really didn’t need to deal with either of those things first thing in the morning.
New Year’s Eve passed as calmly as it could and Saitama had to admit he was impressed. Either Genos was a good actor, or he was genuinely enjoying himself. Rarely smiling but able to hold a conversation with his mother, his sister with ease. Helping Saitama set up the dining room for guests, relaxed as they arrived.
“You’re pretty good at this,” Saitama said, even though they’d both retreated to the corner of the room. Saitama never interacted much with the extended family friend network and Genos didn’t seem particularly partial to being in the social center of things either.
“Your family is very kind, professor,” Genos said, glancing from the crowd and back to Saitama, just as everyone else started paying attention to the clock.
Three minutes to midnight. Genos was standing close and Saitama noticed his mom furtively glancing over, as though waiting for something. What , he wondered. Did she think gay people exploded at midnight on New Years? Is that where she thought all the confetti came from? They still thought all sorts of backwards stuff in the country...
But he glanced over at his sister, who was also furtively glancing but not at Saitama — no, she was looking at her date expectantly, pursing her lips as the seconds left in the year counted down, down…
Oh.
Genos glanced at him as he connected the dots, his heart seizing some in his chest. A kiss — on New Year’s Eve, couples kissed at midnight. It was good luck, or something. He had no idea, he’d never had someone to kiss, he’d never even thought about it.
Well, his mom was clearly expecting them to, and the look in Genos’ eyes told him he was expecting something too, most probably that. That thing that Saitama had stupidly forgot about.
Well, they’d managed to fake a lot of things convincingly during this trip. One more thing and then they’d be off and able to put this whole weird experience behind them…
10, 9, 8, 7…
The end was approaching. Saitama swallowed, abruptly aware of how dry his lips felt.
Genos leaned in and kissed him, and Saitama felt his breath catch between them. This wasn’t just a peck on the lips, a quick way of satisfying the expectation of the moment — no, no Genos never did anything halfway, and that apparently included acting for Saitama’s family.
No, Genos really got into it, his lips an almost desperate pressure against Saitama’s mouth, refusing to let up for what felt like a few absurdly-long seconds. They kissed, and kissed, and finally Genos let up so that they both could breathe, Saitama feeling lightheaded as air rushed back into him.
He barely caught sight of his mom in his post-kiss daze, but the wide-eyed look she was giving him was enough to bring some focus back to his world, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips.
She bought it; Saitama huffed a laugh and looked back at Genos, who had apparently never stopped looking at him — his eyes, molten gold, slipping from Saitama’s gaze to his lips and back, a question unasked in his expression.
Oh no, Saitama thought, feeling his heart pound like a jackhammer against his rib cage. I think I buy it… — He laughed again, breathless, before leaning up to press their lips together again, earning a gasp from Genos for his initiative.
The surprise didn’t last long; Genos pressed in, tightening his grip around Saitama’s shoulder and seeming to forget where they were — surrounded by Saitama’s extended families, and hardly the ideal spot for their first makeout session but, well, Saitama supposed he’d asked for it by kissing him again, and again, and again…
“Happy new year, professor,” Genos said between kisses, a smug grin tugging at his features, the red of a blush dusting his nose and cheeks.
“Yeah,” Saitama replied, still a little dumbstruck. Happy, huh . “Same to you,” he said with a chuckle, earning a proper grin before Genos leaned in to kiss him again.
.o.
Saying goodbye was easier than normal, probably because his mom wasn’t fretting as much as usual. She smiled as they left, looking more at ease than she normally did when she let Saitama out of her sight.
“So, about your thesis--”
“I already checked the guidelines, professor. No line item in the guidebook ----
“We’re not dating until after your thesis is complete, understood?”
And then Genos finished his degree early.