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Senku Ishigami did not care about sports. He didn’t follow actors or musicians or idols on his social media and talked about Lillian Weinberg as if she was just some woman his dad was married to and not one of the most famous people on the entire planet.
He was not the type to fanboy, which was fine because Gen could gush enough for both of them.
However, as the leaves started to change and the air started to cool, he discovered that there was one thing that his adorable mad scientist went feral over.
“There is no way that idiot is getting nominated, his study was a joke!”
“Yeah and you think this is worthy of winning?”
Senku scowled at Chrome and gestured at the pile of scientific papers on the floor, “That’s the pile for people who have already won, dipshit, that pile is for people I think deserve it!” He waved his hand at the couch which was similarly stacked with print outs.
Gen, perched on the kitchen counter with his phone in one hand and a glass of cola in the other, watched with a detached interest one might have observing strange animals at the zoo.
He’d come over to try and plan something for their one-year anniversary in November only to find Senku’s living room practically buried in scientific papers and the two science dorks embroiled in a heated discussion. They had banished him to the kitchen after he asked why they weren’t simply focusing on the people nominated for the Nobel prizes, loudly explaining (shouting, in stereo) that nominees were sealed for fifty years and there was no list to go off of.
Which explained why Senku had printed hundreds of pages of scientific articles and practically wallpapered his living room with them.
There was apparently some order to the chaos and Gen gleaned that each prize category had a dedicated space in the room and each space was subdivided for further debate. Many of the stacks were rather precariously positioned and Gen absently wondered if Senku would be able to tell one paper from the next should they somehow get mixed up.
Which was a silly question because of course he would. Could probably rattle off a few from memory at that point.
Gen would’ve been more insulted about being banished if his boyfriend hadn’t offered him a separate stack of specific articles he thought Gen would personally find interesting. It was flattering that not only had the other man thought of him, but had considered him smart enough to participate in the actual discussions on the subjects.
Even if it had been with a backhanded comment about how psychological papers had no chance of winning that year. Gen reminded himself that he did, in fact, love the asshole he was dating and generously decided not to smack him.
Instead, he’d wrangled him into a snuggle, pressing loud, smacking kisses to his cheeks and forehead as he tried to wriggle away and Chrome viciously mocked him. Gen took his wins where he could.
After an hour of watching the pair discuss possible nominees as if they were drafting teams for Fantasy Football, Gen gave up. He dropped a kiss on Senku's head and wished him luck on his “draft pick” (much to the man’s consternation) and left to have dinner with Ukyo.
—
Gen had heavily considered getting silly foam fingers made for Chrome and Senku leading up to the week of streaming and idly wondered if this was how his partner felt when he was ranting about some reality tv season finale coming up.
If so, it only made him love Senku all the more for tolerating his behavior, because if this man shushed him one more time he was going to drown him in the toilet.
Senku had checked and double checked the time difference, making sure his laptop was fully charged and refreshing the live-stream website every so often to make sure it hadn’t frozen on him while Chrome fiddled with the blinds to make sure there was no glare on the screen.
Gen watched the pair from the kitchen, unable to shake the fond smile on his face as they two continued to bicker over prospective papers. They had started the afternoon with ten and had managed to knock that down to three possibilities - one for each and one they both agreed on. Gen, for his part, played the dutiful boyfriend, making sure the pair were fed and watered regularly as he knew it was inevitable for the them to become far too focused and ignore any signals their bodies were sending them.
“Dearest, it’s not going to start for another ten minutes,” Gen pressed a kiss to the top of Senku’s head as he refreshed the feed again, setting down a bowl of popcorn on an empty space on the table.
He got a noncommittal grunt in response and Senku pointedly refreshed the feed as if to spite him. Gen rolled his eyes, glad he hadn’t been shushed that time, and pressed another, firmer kiss to his head with an over the top muah noise, giggling when Senku waved him away.
Ducking back into the kitchen, Gen flicked through his twitter feed, only looking up when the silly space holder music stopped, Chrome and Senku going silent and leaning towards the screen in unison.
Gen may or may not have snapped a photo.
He couldn’t see the screen from his angle, but he could hear voices start speaking in Swedish - he recognized a few words he’d heard Ukyo use on the phone to his father before, and based on how confused Chrome looked he doubted there were subtitles.
Gen had started typing up a text to Ukyo to see if he was free to translate for the rest of the week, stopping when the voices switched to English.
Suddenly Senku jumped to his feet with a loud whoop, pointing at Chrome with a cackling laugh. “Each shit, Chrome, I told you it was going to be a study about the immune system after the last two were about mRNA! Get fucked!”
Biting his lip to hold back a laugh, Gen watched as his loving boyfriend lorded over his friend, eyes sparkling in excitement and bouncing with the joy of a child on Christmas.
Silently pressing the record button, Gen angled his phone and decided that Nobel Prize Week was his new favorite holiday.