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“Do you like me, Genos?”
The question came out of nowhere, startling the cyborg. It was an afternoon like any other, sitting in the living room, Saitama reading manga while Genos watched the news. The rice-cooker in the kitchen was heating up their dinner, while cicadas chirped outside. All in all, an ordinary day.
“I like you, Sensei.” Genos replied, carefully. “Your company is enjoyable, and I’m learning a lot.”
“Yeah,” Saitama said, impassively, like he was just asking about the weather. “But do you want to date me?”
Genos dropped the tv remote. He could feel his face turning red, and desperately scrambled to remember how to turn off his blush function.
“W-why do you ask?” Genos stammered, panicking. How had his Sensei realized what Genos was feeling? How was he going to react? Would his Sensei throw him out? That would be worse, so much worse than the five months of fruitless pining. He couldn’t imagine life without Saitama anymore-
“Stop overthinking it,” Saitama said calmly. “Just answer the question.”
Lying to his Sensei would be fruitless. With a gulp, Genos turned until he was kneeling seiza-style in front of his teacher.
“I-I do, Sensei.” The words came out soft, reluctant, and Genos waited for the rejection, the dismissal. He balled his fists up on his knees, trying not to cry.
Saitama thought for a moment, then nodded as though confirming a hypothesis. With a snap he closed his manga, putting it down.
“Ok.” Saitama said.
“Ok?”
“Ok, I’ll date you.”
The words were so matter-of-fact that Genos couldn’t really process them. Five months of pining, longing, distant admiration... all under the assumption that Saitama would never want him. And now, it was just “ok”?
“B-but you don’t like men!” Genos blurted, stumbling over the words. “You told Armored Gorilla, when we first met-“
“I don’t.” Saitama looked down, a faint flush on his cheeks. “I don’t like women either, as a rule. But sometimes, I get to know someone and I start to like them, want them.” He looked back up at Genos, dark eyes clear and honest.
“And you want... me?” Genos said, voice cracking. He had to be sure, certain, 0% chance of miscommunication.
“Yeah, if you’ll have me.” Saitama shrugged. “Don’t see why you would, though. Old, bald-“
“You’re twenty-five!” Genos exclaimed.
“And you’re on Hottest Hero lists.” Saitama pointed out, looking a bit embarrassed. “I kept waiting for you to get over me.”
“Never,” Genos said fervently. Then something clicked in his brain. “You knew? For how long?”
“Since the first month,” Saitama said. There was a small smile dancing at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
That was aggravating, but Genos was too overwhelmed to get pissy. Saitama liked him, wanted him, was willing to date him! Were they dating now? Was he Saitama’s boyfriend? It was all too much, but nothing compared to what came next.
“Can I kiss you?” Saitama asked, leaning forward a little. His eyes were half-closed, and his pink tongue darted out just a bit, wetting his lips.
Genos was going to explode. His core was going to melt down, his brain was going to short out. He was going to jump up and down, run through the streets screaming that the most amazing man in the universe wanted to kiss him.
Instead he just said “ok.”
Saitama leaned in, putting a hand on Genos’s shoulder that burned hotter than the cyborg’s own incineration cannon. He moved closer and the world narrowed to encompass nothing but the older man’s lips as they pressed against Genos’s.
It was gentle, simple and soft. Just a little thing.
It was perfect.
Saitama pulled back, smiling at Genos in a way the cyborg had never seen before, and suddenly perfection was no longer enough.
Genos leaned forward, following Saitama and brushing their lips together again. And again. And again. Soft little pecks, tentative and sweet.
Genos had been popular enough in High School to have done more than this, kisses with tongue and even a bit of groping and grinding with the vice-captain of the kendo team... but it paled in comparison to these almost childish kisses, sweet and innocent.
If Saitama rarely wanted anyone, did that mean the student had more experience than his teacher? The thought was exciting and terrifying all at once, but it was quickly chased away by more pressing matters... namely, Saitama wrapping his arms around Genos’s back, pulling him close. Genos wound his own arms around Saitama’s neck, sinking into hazy, tender bliss.
They kissed for... he knew not how long. Time didn’t matter, nothing did except kissing Saitama.
Then the rice cooker beeped.
“I should get that,” Saitama murmured against his student’s lips. Genos let out a little whine that sounded pleading and pathetic, but Saitama just smiled again.
Genos let him go, sat in the main room barely able to process while the older man plated up hot, steamy rice, and added the raw egg, salt, soy sauce and Aji-no-moto. Genos could hear him humming as he whisked the bowls with his chopsticks, sounding more cheerful than he had in a long while.
When he came back, he handed Genos one of the bowls and sat down next to him, so close that their shoulders brushed together every time they plied their chopsticks. The Tamago Kake Gohan was like their kisses, simple but delicious and filling.
When they were done eating, they changed the channel to an old movie, a family comedy classic almost anyone could quote by heart. Their light chuckles were interspersed with lighter kisses, familiar scenes mixed with exciting new sensations.
Slowly, Genos started to believe that this was truly, really happening.
When it was time for sleep, they rolled out the futons as usual, changed and brushed their teeth. For once, Genos didn’t try to hide his smiles, his little glances and blushes. When they curled up on their own respective futons, Genos reached out a tentative hand to touch his teacher’s shoulder, scooting just an inch closer, then another.
“Come on, then,” Saitama said, raising the corner of his own blanket, and then curling up on his side when the cyborg joined him. Genos wrapped his arms around Saitama’s waist, pressing his chest to the other man’s back and tangling their legs together. He placed a reverent kiss on the back of the other man’s smooth head.
“Good night,” he whispered.
Saitama just took his hand and squeezed.