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"You haven't been coming to the cafe recently," Saitama said, hanging up his beanie on the hook by the door. "Are you cheating on me?"
Genos jerked upright, guilty. "I- I haven't needed as many stimulants. I'm taking a lighter course load this semester, remember?"
"I remember," Saitama said. He grinned, "Relax. It's probably a good thing, you drink too much caffeine." He couldn't stop himself from adding, "I want you to outlive me."
Genos scowled and stood up. He joined Saitama in the doorway and kissed his cheek. "Don't say things like that."
"Sorry." Saitama kissed him back. "Seriously though."
"Which part was serious?"
"You're avoiding the cafe!"
"Oh. That." Genos leaned back, eyes drifting over to the table. "You think? I hadn't really..."
"You are a terrible liar for a superhero."
"Speaking of which!" Genos pulled away. "You said we could patrol together tonight!"
Saitama tipped his head back and groaned.
"You've been promising for weeks! You said if I didn't have school on a night you didn't have work-"
"I know, I know what I said." Saitama patted Genos on the head. He had to reach up to do it, but Genos reacted just like a happy kitten. "I'll get changed. Where should we meet up?"
"I'll find you," Genos said, now beaming. Saitama decided not to question that.
There was a drone that accompanied Demon Cyborg sometimes when he was heroing. It wasn't too different from the ones you could buy at hobby stores, sort of round and helicoptery, but it had an LED display with an angry red facial expression that utterly failed to look intimidating. Kind of like Demon Cyborg, come to think of it.
But maybe that was just Saitama. To anybody else, a dude with a silver face and metal body would probably be off-putting. It certainly made the crooks shake when Demon Cyborg grabbed them with one hand and hauled them off the ground as if they were no heavier than cardboard.
The thing was... Saitama didn't know who was flying the drone. Or who'd been responsible for the flamethrowers in Demon Cyborg's arms, or the little robot mini-hims that popped up sometimes and ran away when Saitama made eye contact. There was so much he still didn't know about Genos, and the worst part was he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
“Sensei!” Demon Cyborg called, waving happily at him from a rooftop. Saitama didn't like the nickname, but they hadn't been able to agree on a hero name for him, and it was better than the alternative.
“Come down here!” Saitama shouted.
“Okay!” He disappeared. A second too late, Saitama remembered who he was talking to.
“Wait, not that-”
Demon Cyborg leapt off the edge of the building and landed on the ground, ruffling Saitama's cape and leaving cracks in the pavement.
“...way.”
“There weren't stairs,” Demon said, by way of explanation. The little drone followed him down, face currently caution-yellow.
“Okay, well... Hi.”
“Hi.” He grinned.
Genos looked so different like this. His hair was short and gold instead of shaggy and buttery-blond. It made his face seem sharper, even though the underlying shape was the same. And his eyes were... colder. It shouldn't make a difference. But it did.
“Let's go,” Saitama said, curtly. He turned, and Demon Cyborg followed.
Saitama didn't really “patrol” so much as “wander.” He'd been worried Genos would be disappointed by that, but he seemed happy enough just to be together. Almost like they were strolling around on a date instead of looking for trouble.
They found it soon enough. A bunch of guys drinking beers out of the back of a pickup truck and catcalling or insulting everyone who passed. Saitama tried to tell them to knock it off, one of them threw a full can at him, Demon Cyborg caught it and crushed it in one hand. Which was pretty hot, but the guys were drunk enough or confident enough that it didn't scare them off, and Saitama had to step in and overpower them before Demon actually hurt somebody.
“They were rude to you, Sa- sensei!” Demon said.
“They were being rude to everybody. That was the problem.”
“You've saved their lives! You've saved the life of everyone in this city.” Pouting made him look younger. “They should be grateful.”
Saitama took his hand and squeezed it, gently. “You're grateful enough for everybody. I don't mind.”
Genos pressed up to his side, threading his fingers with Saitama's. One of the drunks, still conscious, booed. Only Saitama's grip prevented Genos from going back to make his displeasure known.
“I don't mind,” he said.
“I do.”
He spent most of the night glued to Saitama's side. The drunks weren't the only ones to notice; even a monster commented on it, before Demon Cyborg burned a hole through its torso.
In between fights, though, Demon Cyborg acted like they were on a date. Holding hands, strolling, commenting on the scenery. Around one AM they took a break and ate onigiri Demon Cyborg had produced from somewhere alone in a dark park.
"What do you think?" Demon asked, shyly.
"'S'nice out," Saitama said. Demon said nothing, but his head dipped. "What?"
"I meant the food? I know I made them a little big..."
"Oh! No, uh-" They were underseasoned, but even Saitama knew better than to say that. "I like big."
Genos nudged Saitama's arm. "Oh do you?"
He chuckled. "Not like that."
"No?"
"Not not like that."
Genos' head rested on Saitama's shoulder. "You know, I thought as much."
"Did you now."
"You have that look."
"What, that 'I only drink ventis' look?"
"That's the one."
"Hm."
The first time Saitama met Demon Cyborg he'd been ready to blow himself up to take out the monster that was beating him. The first time Saitama met Genos he'd been operating on less than an hour of sleep and got confused by the menu and tried to order a butter scone latte.
“And you've always looked like the type of guy who bites off more than he can chew.”
It was dark, but Saitama thought Genos was smiling. “I can live with that.”
A little after three AM (there was a clock outside the bank) things went wrong. Like, giant clockwork soldier wrong. It was trying to rob the bank, and mostly breaking bricks off the facade, but when Demon Cyborg tried to stop it it immediately lashed out with big metal lego hands. Saitama stood back and watched; the thing was pretty clumsy, he didn't think Demon would have any trouble. At least not until a third arm popped out of the soldier's chest and ripped Demon's leg off.
After that, Saitama beheaded it. And when that didn't stop it from moving he smashed the body into bits as well.
Other than the leg, Demon Cyborg seemed okay. His drone retrieved the errant limb, but the thigh part was all smushed from the soldier's grip. Nonetheless, Demon tried to reattach it before giving up with a sigh.
“The connector port is damaged. I was hoping I could at least walk on it...”
“What's that mean?”
“It means I'm out for the night, sensei.” The drone beeped sadly.
“Can your buddy carry you?”
“Yes, but he's only programmed to take me to-” Demon stopped. Another thing that Saitama didn't know about him. “I don't need to go that far, I have several sets of parts at home.
“I'll carry you then,” Saitama said. “Piggyback or princess?”
Demon Cyborg's silver face couldn't blush, but the way he ducked his head and the hiss of steam from his shoulders said a lot. “You could just support me while I hop.”
“Be faster if I carry you, though. Or is it too embarrassing?”
“Nothing with you is embarrassing, sensei,” Demon said. Saitama saw a flash of regret, but he didn't correct himself.
To distract himself from suggesting all the ways Saitama could definitely embarrass him in public, Saitama considered the logistics of carrying a cyborg with one leg and shoulders the size of a car bumper.
“Might have to do the fireman carry.”
“I understand.”
Saitama clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Here we go!”
It wasn't the first time he'd been to Genos' apartment. They'd had evenings here, TV dates, dinner once. But he hadn't spent the night. He hadn't seen more than a sliver of Genos' bedroom. Now, watching him change, Saitama understood why.
There were metal cases stacked along the walls on almost all sides – excepting the closet which was stuffed to bursting. Instead of a desk Genos had more metal cases in a kind of H shape, though the books and lamp and writing tools on top gave away its purpose. There was a futon was folded neatly in the corner, and in the middle of the room was something that reminded Saitama of a dentist's chair. Or maybe an operating table.
Demon Cyborg hopped over to it and sat down. He pressed something on the arm of the chair and a little drone very much like the one that followed him while heroing popped out of the ceiling. Looking up, Saitama realized that had been modified too; it was almost a foot lower than the ceiling outside the apartment. All in all the room felt cramped and cold. Impersonal. Only the soft sweaters and bright colors of the closet gave away that this was a bedroom rather than a lab.
“I'm fine now,” Demon said. “Don't let me keep you, sensei.”
“There wasn't that much going on,” Saitama said. “I'll stick with you.”
“You don't have to. You should take advantage of being able to be out all night.”
Saitama shrugged. “I'd rather be here.”
The hiss of steam was faint beneath the sound of the drone's rotors. “Okay, sen- Saitama.”
While Saitama stood in the doorway and watched, the drone brought – one by one – new limbs to Demon Cyborg. They were still metal and rubber like his various combat arms, but these were more rubber and less metal, and once he had the arms Demon pulled gloves over the slim skeletal fingers that left them looking like flesh and blood. He threw a sheepish glance at Saitama before turning away, so it was only from the back that Saitama saw Demon remove his face and put on a new one.
It was surreal. Like Cinderella being dressed by birds and mice. Genos probably would have preferred to be compared to a henshin hero, or Iron Man, but Saitama couldn't help what his brain tossed out.
And he was Genos, now. That pretty face and soft hair that Saitama had thought of far more often than he wanted to admit. And now he had actual visual confirmation that they were both fake. A mask and a wig. This Genos was no more or less Genos than the silver-faced Demon Cyborg. Not really.
And yet...
Genos pulled on an oversized sweater that camouflaged the slightly-unnatural lines of his body and turned and gave Saitama a sheepish smile. Why did it looks so much softer when he was pink and yellow instead of silver and gold?
“So what's the plan?”
“I wasn't planning on losing a leg,” Genos said. His lower lip pressed against the upper one in a pout that he would deny if Saitama pointed it out.
“At least it was a quiet night. There's rarely anything between about now and dawn.”
“But there's sometimes a surge at 3.” Genos walked past him and across the tidy living room to the window. Nothing lay beyond it but darkness and streetlights.
Saitama shrugged, again. “Not tonight, I guess. Should we just... call it good? Get some sleep like normal people?”
Genos looked back over his shoulder. “What would you have done if I wasn't with you?”
“Probably given up earlier and not been in time to stop that bank robbery.”
His lips twitched. “I'm keeping you from bed, then.”
Saitama took a step forward. “I'm used to it. It was just a quiet night, that's all.”
“Are you saying you don't want to leave?”
“Not if you don't want me to.”
The suggestion hung in the air. They hadn't talked about it, not really, not outside of jokes about drink sizes. But the fact remained that they probably wouldn't have gotten together if Saitama hadn't made a really terrible suggestion, and Genos hadn't taken it to heart. They wouldn't have gotten together if Genos hadn't propositioned him for sex.
“Wanna watch a movie or something?” Saitama asked.
A little bit of tension eased out of Genos' posture, though he still sounded stiff as he said, “I don't... have any.”
“You don't have any movies?”
“I don't watch them,” he said, tone approaching miserable. “I only have documentaries for school.”
Saitama hadn't meant to make him feel bad, it was just a surprise. “We could... watch a documentary?”
Genos gave him a look that was somehow both dubious and hopeful all at once. “You want to?”
“Sure!”
“You want to watch a documentary.”
Saitama felt his forehead throb. “You don't have to act so surprised!”
“It doesn't seem like... your usual viewing material, that's all.”
“You don't know everything about me.” He didn't know much at all. “Pop one in, I could use some enrichment.”
“Okay,” Genos said, brightening up. “Well... I watched one recently about aquatic invasive species that was very well-edited. Want to try that?”
Saitama bared his teeth in what he hoped was a smile. “Sounds good!”
He fell asleep ten minutes in. The only consolation was that Genos told him he hadn't lasted much longer.
The next morning (okay, afternoon) Saitama went home to shower and change. He'd gotten a couple morning-breath kisses, which was nice in a weird sort of way. Like, it was gross, but it was nice too, that he could still want to kiss Genos when they were both gross. That he wasn't afraid Genos was going to reject him for a thing that happened to everybody.
It was nice. But it was scary too.
lets do a real date, Saitama texted Genos once he was clean from teeth to toes.
I would like that! Genos texted back. What did you have in mind?
He didn't, actually. Saitama hadn't thought it through at all. But all the domesticity had left him feeling... jittery. Like a venti too many. He needed to see Genos again and pretend it wasn't happening until it passed.
So what did people do on dates? Coffee shops were out. So were movies; he had no idea what was playing and he didn't want Genos to think he was judging him.
lets go out and walk around, he sent, after worrying he was taking too long. That, at least, he knew he couldn't screw up. Genos had been happy enough to walk with him in the middle of the night. They could window shop and gets something to eat. It would be nice. Normal.
Okay, Genos replied. Meet you at your place.
Genos had changed too, though Saitama personally didn't think he needed to. He always managed to out-dress most of the room. He'd taken the initiative of planning a route, though he didn't mention it until they'd walked half a block and it became clear Saitama had no plans, and suggested they hit up the shopping center.
There was only one he could mean. It was about twenty minutes' walk from campus and all the students seemed to gather there if they weren't working there. Saitama had only been to it a couple times, to try the food, but it felt too fashionable for him. Too young.
Much like Genos.
But as far as places to wander around and hang out went, you couldn't find better. They wandered through a couple stores selling outdoor gear, and then athletic gear, and then peered into a glasses shop where Saitama could already hear himself talking Genos out of buying him new frames. He didn't know how much the ones he'd found on the bus had cost originally. He'd always hoped they were cheap reading glasses so he didn't need to feel bad about using them as a civvie disguise.
In a more general clothing store, a girl around Genos' age recognized him. The lanyard gave her away as an employee, even if she hadn't greeted Genos with, “Your order still hasn't come in yet.”
“I know,” Genos said. “Thanks. We're just going to look around.”
“Sure!” the girl said. She looked at Saitama, and her smile turned plastic. “Can I help you find anything?”
“He's with me,” Genos said before Saitama could reply. He took his arm to make it clear. “This is my boyfriend.”
“Oh! The one you've talked about. I'm sorry.”
Her eyes lingered on Saitama as they walked away, and he hoped it was just his paranoia making him think she looked disappointed.
“Friend of yours?” Saitama asked, keeping his voice low.
“Sort of. Friend of a friend. We hang out in the same groups sometimes.”
“Right...”
Saitama couldn't say why he was feeling uneasy. A pretty young girl had assumed he wasn't with Genos despite standing right next to him. Despite Genos saying “we.” And that look... Was she disappointed because she wanted to be with Genos? Or because Saitama was so clearly not good enough for him.
Genos was having fun, though, and Saitama didn't want to stop that. He held up a few shirts to Saitama, laughed when Saitama checked the price tags, and finally settled on a new beanie for him. Cashmere, just like the last one, so it wouldn't irritate his skin.
“I never would have accepted it if I knew it cost this much,” Saitama hissed as they headed for the register.
“But it actually looks good on you. Not like that awful winter hat you were wearing when we met.”
“A hat is a hat! I don't care what people think of my head anyway. I just don't want to stand out.”
Genos looked him up and down. “That's not possible, Saitama.”
Ears burning, Saitama couldn't stop Genos from buying the beanie, or a matching scarf. Once they were outside – away from the watchful eye of the girl – he put the scarf on himself and made Saitama wear his new hat. It was so sweet and so cheesy that Saitama couldn't even make fun of him. They matched.
They went in a soap store after that, which was nice for about five seconds and then threatened to give Saitama a headache. Then another clothing store, very sparkly and girly, though Genos led him to a tiny sliver of a Men's section. Here, Genos seriously considered a few items, including a vest and some pants that looked like they were made out of pockets, and frowned at some artfully-tattered shirts as if they were wires leading to a bomb timer.
“Do you mind if I try these on?” Genos asked.
It was only two, so Saitama said, “Go ahead.”
There was a high risk he'd regret this. But spending time with Genos was the whole point of this outing, so why not? It wasn't like he was in a hurry. He could live through a little boredom.
Genos led him to the changing rooms, big stalls with doors that left everything from the knees down exposed. Saitama wondered where he could hang out and avoid looking like a shoplifter while he was waiting, but Genos held the door open and said, “Come with me.”
Future looking bright, Saitama followed him.
Genos flashed Saitama a shy little smile as he shrugged off his jacket, and turned toward the mirror as he pulled his shirt over his head. A lithe body, broad chest and slender waist, and surprisingly no metal at all. Saitama marveled at the smoothness of his skin – no blemishes or imperfections like Saitama's, and yet the color was so natural you'd never guess if you didn't know. Even his abs were perfect; defined but not too defined. He looked like he worked out but didn't obsess over it.
“You changed,” Saitama said.
“Hm?” Genos looked at the shirt he'd just removed. “Yes.”
“No, I mean...” Saitama waved at him. “That.”
“Oh, um.” Another shy smile. “Well, I always wear this when I'm leaving the house. I'd hate to forget I didn't have it on and tear my jeans or something...”
“It goes all the way down?” Saitama felt his eyebrows raise.
“Of course!”
Saitama reached out, his hand finding Genos' ribs, and trailed his fingers along the faux skin. “It feels like the real thing.”
“Of course...” Genos mumbled, cheeks starting to go pink.
“You can feel that?”
“I can feel everything. There- there's a fine mesh of wires in the- So it only needs to connect to my systems in a couple places.”
“That's amazing,” Saitama said, honestly.
Genos nodded. “The doctor wanted me to be able to live a normal life.”
“He must be a genius.”
“He is.” The expression on Genos' face was fond. But there was still the fact that he was half-undressed and Saitama was putting his hands on him. “Um.”
“Does it just go on? Like a suit?”
“Well, yes.”
“I don't see any seams or anything.”
“You would, if you knew where to look. But you wouldn't know what they were.”
“Hmm.” Saitama slid his hands back around Genos' waist, until he was embracing him. “I'd like it if you showed me later.”
“Would you?” Genos asked, so soft Saitama couldn't tell what he was feeling.
“Yeah.”
“Later then.” Genos pushed at his chest, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Let me try these on!”
“Okay, okay, spoilsport.”
Saitama was absolutely no help in picking a shirt, and in the end Genos bought both of them once he figured out the size.
“You look good in everything,” Saitama said. “It's not fair.”
“I don't, you know. I just don't wear things I don't look good in.”
Saitama considered this. “But what about... comfort?”
Genos just blinked at him.
Apparently it wasn't only Saitama who'd gotten a little overheated in the dressing room, because Genos led them straight to an ice cream shop. Saitama insisted on paying for both of them this time, though his wallet ached when he noticed it was one of those fancy ice cream places with vegan flavors and free range coffee beans or whatever. He ordered a nice safe strawberry, and Genos got something called Chai Honeycomb.
“Can I try yours?” Genos asked, when they were both a few licks in.
“Sure.” Saitama held it out, and tried to ignore the way the pink of the cream set off the pink of Genos' lips.
“Not bad. Want some of mine?” Genos offered.
“Why not?” Saitama accepted a spoonful, Genos having declined a cone. Maybe he was worried about staining his new scarf. “It tastes like fall,” Saitama decided after smacking his lips.
“I like fall,” Genos said.
“You look good in scarves, that's for sure.”
Genos blushed, nearly as pink as a strawberry.
All in all it was a remarkably good date. No crossed wires, no awkward pauses, no dumb statements that made him think Saitama was a weirdo. Then again, they'd probably gotten all that out of the way in the months they knew each other before they started dating. Saitama had seen Genos in pretty bad shape more than once. Even that first beanie had been given to him in a distinctly “I can't stand this any more” kind of fashion.
As they headed back toward Saitama's place, hand-in-hand, Saitama thought back to all those evenings they'd spent when Saitama was closing and Genos was studying. Even with other customers, It had felt... special. Safe.
“Why don't you come to the cafe any more?” Saitama asked suddenly. He'd been thinking about it earlier too.
“Oh. Um.” Genos wasn't blushing, but every other part of him was radiating embarrassment. “It's not that I... don't...”
“Are you worried I'll embarrass you?”
Saitama should have known better. Genos had just taken him to a hip shopping center where his friends worked. He'd introduced him as his boyfriend. He'd bought them matching accessories. But the fear wouldn't leave, the constant refrain of not good enough, not good enough.
“Of course not!” Genos said, squeezing his hand. “Even if you did, I wouldn't be upset. I accepted how embarrassing you are a long time ago.”
Saitama gave an exaggerated fake gasp.
“I like you exactly how you are, Saitama. Both of you. That's...” Genos' eyes dropped to the sidewalk. “I like you. A lot. But the other you is the one I fell in love with. And it's hard, it's still... I know that's shallow.”
“It's not,” Saitama said. His chest felt weird, and he wasn't sure if it was good or bad.
“When I see you in the cafe, you're my friend Saitama, who- who is very cute and I like him and I hope he likes me. But the other you, the hero you, that's the guy I've been wanting to look at me. It still feels strange to see you behind the counter and think...” Now Genos was blushing. “Think about how strong you are. And how brave. And- and how unfair it is that no one else gets it, and-”
“Okay, okay.” Saitama was sure he was blushing too. His head felt like he could fry an egg on his scalp. “I get it. I do! It's kind of the opposite for me. This you is the one I had a crush on. I kinda felt sorry for Demon Cyborg.”
“Sorry? Why?”
“Because it was so obvious you needed more than I could give.”
“But-”
“And that's still true. That's why I'm glad I can be your boyfriend and do the affection and support thing. That I can handle.”
Genos let go of his hand. Saitama was worried he'd said something wrong, but Genos stepped in front of him and threw his free arm around Saitama's shoulders, his bags of shopping bumping his hip.
“Oh, okay.”
“You're handling it fine,” Genos said, voice thick. “I- I feel so different when I'm with you. I feel normal.”
“Is that... good?”
“Yes. I wasn't sure at first, but I was always craving it anyway.”
“Oh.” Saitama couldn't think of a smart reply, so he just hugged him. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Genos said.
From the sound of his breathing he was definitely crying now. All Saitama could do was pat his back and wait it out, avoiding eye contact with the other pedestrians passing them.
When his arm started to get tired, Saitama asked, “Do you want to get- No, do you want to make dinner?”
Genos pulled back, eyes wide and shiny but no sign of tear tracks. “Yes! I've been practicing. I have two good recipes, I think.”
Even if it was as bland as the onigiri, Saitama would never tell him. “Awesome. My place or yours?”
“Mine! I have everything there. Should we stop by yours to drop off your hat? Or, oh, do you want to get some of your movies?”
Saitama let Genos' chatter wash over him as they started walking again. He agreed with a few things and answered a few questions, but mostly he just enjoyed the sounds. Shopping and planning dinner together. It felt so... normal.
And less than 24 hours ago they'd been setting out to fight monsters all night. It wasn't anybody else's normal, but it was theirs.