Archive of Our Own

Genos really didn’t understand why they were at the Hero Association. He had gotten a call from one of the administrators, a slow, languid voice telling him to come immediately, stating that it was an S-Class matter. Saitama, with nothing else to do, followed along, talking about dinner and going to the supermarket later. They were currently standing out in a hall on the top floor of the building, looking out the window and down at the hustle and bustle of A-City.

To him, this urgent matter didn’t seem as important as they had made it out to be. If it had been, then neither he nor Saitama would be wandering the halls, waiting for someone to summon them.

Genos sighed, tilting his head lazily, his attention drifting to the man beside him. His Sensei was gazing out the window with intense interest, eyes wide as they flickered over this and that, lips parted slightly. Genos couldn’t help but smile, a fuzzy feeling touching his core. It was nice to see Saitama interested in something even if it might just be whatever was outside the building.

He shook away any affectionate thoughts that threatened to surface. He really didn’t need that emotional roller coaster right now especially since that ride usually ended on the corner of unrequited love and ‘you just had to fall for your sensei, didn’t you' boulevard. 

Regardless, he could settle for just looking at him. Saitama was a sight to behold regardless of what others said and Genos would never get tired of the image, it being a pleasant thing to wake up to in the morning.

He sighed again, rolling his eyes at himself.

“Genos! Saitama!”

The duo turned to find Mumen and Fubuki walking over to them, the rider waving at them with a wide grin on his face.

“Why hello, boys,” Fubuki greeted, placing one of her hands on her hip. “What brings you to this lovely tower this bright and beautiful afternoon?”

“Genos got a call about something important,” Saitama replied, scratching his hand.

“I wouldn’t really call it important since we’ve been standing around for the last half hour doing nothing,” The cyborg added dryly.

Genos didn’t catch what Fubuki said in return, an odd chill down his spine catching his attention. That wasn't normal. He didn’t often get those types of reflexes or ticks unannounced, especially since atmospheric temperatures didn’t affect him like it did others. He furrowed his brows but ultimately filed that away as something unimportant.

“Do you guys wanna get something to eat after all this is over? Fubuki and I are just about done with what we were doing,” Mumen said cheerfully.

Saitama glanced at Genos before saying, “Yeah, sure. If Genos ever gets done with his thing,”

“We can just leave. If it’s that important, they can just call again,” He said with a frown.

“Let’s wait like 10 more minutes though. I don’t wanna leave and then have them call you back instantly.”

Genos nodded his head and the others lapsed into conversation. They were talking about something mundane. Perhaps it was about clothes or shoes. He didn’t know. That chill was back again, settling just at the nape of his neck, kneading against the spot, drawing a shiver from his spine, eliciting an exhale. It was like a cloud over him, casting a shadow over his shoulders, a rain-like dampness tumbling into the air.

There was a whisper at his ear and Genos turned his head, furrowing his brow when there was no one at his right side. Well, Fubuki was but she was currently rattling on about her organization. Her voice was loud and the others would have noticed if she had suddenly lapsed into a low tone. And this whisper was layered, a reverberation laced between each syllable. He couldn’t make out what it said but it sounded rather inhuman.

He ran a quick diagnostics check but found his systems to be normal. That only made his frown deepen. Given that his brain was the only organic part of him, Genos was still subjected to typical human problems like chemical imbalances or the occasional bout of anxiety that he knew how to deal with thank you very much. Perhaps he was also hallucinating auditory noises and phantom sensations? But nothing out of the ordinary had happened today to cause him to experience such abnormal occurrences.

..ch…

Genos swallowed thickly. He felt the urge to turn his head. He felt it within himself, somewhere dark and deep and dangerous, like somewhere he shouldn’t go, somewhere he shouldn’t know existed. He gave in to the desire, shifting to look over his shoulder. His eyes instantly went to the far end of the hall where it joined with another, the corner becoming particularly interesting. Another urge flooded over the other, begging him to go, go, go that way. Walk towards it, this ‘it’ being an odd mystery.

He frowned again, shifting to turn his head away. He couldn’t, a shiver running down his spine at the attempt. His body was buzzing, a tremor running up and through him, locking his limbs, forcing his eyes down the hall.

A breath and he was moving, legs carrying him away from the others. He was down the corridor in seconds, turning abruptly and going down another. Each footstep, each movement made the whisper grow louder, more coherent, more apparent. It felt like the gentle caress of a lover, a finger tracing the curve of his ear, a gentle press of fingertips to skin.

...ouch…

His eyes focused on a covered object leaning against the wall halfway down the hallway. It appeared to be sat over top of something, a white cloth obscuring much of whatever it was. He could make out the fact that it was circular, the rest of its shape hidden beneath the fabric. He couldn’t look away from it, all of him tingling, twitching, eager to see what it was.

Genos stopped in front of it, lips parting in anticipation. The people around him blurred from existence, falling back into the recesses of his mind as trivial nonsense. He reached a hand out, fingers digging into the cloth, and pulled, dropping it to the ground. He was greeted by a large black orb, thrumming green, an emerald glow pulsating from the cracks on its surface. He could feel a vibration coming off of it, a steady aura radiating from it like a nuclear weapon.

Touch.

He tilted his head absently, his hand twitching at his side.

You are stuck.

He took in a breath, distantly remembering to blink.

So, touch.

“Oh, so this is where you ran off to.”

That sounded like Saitama.

But the cyborg couldn’t look away from the orb, a primordial duty insisting that he keep his eyes on this vaguely beautiful object.

Touch.

Genos’ eyes fluttered as he brought his hand up, his palm pressing against smooth, cool metal. The orb’s green glow grew in intensity, its heavy vibration rattling against his fingers, travelling up his arm and spreading throughout his body. His entire being hummed, the whispers growing in frequency, falling over one another like dominoes thrown to the floor.

Sleep                Sleep                Sleep               Sleep

            Sleep                Sleep                Sleep

Kiss                 Sleep                Sleep

“Genos?”

The cyborg exhaled and pulled his hand back, the orb’s green aura fizzling away, the cracks melding back to black. He turned his head, meeting Saitama’s curious stare. However, something surprised the older hero, making him flinch away, widen his eyes, furrow his brows. Genos blinked and the expression relaxed, simmering into a cautious suspicious as opposed to blatant shock. Saitama dropped that puzzled gaze to the orb, frowning at it.

“Oh,” Genos finally said, blinking a few times before looking around. “What happened?”

“You kinda wandered off, dude. You ended up here in front of this…thingy.”

“I did,” It sounded more like a question than a factual statement.

“You touched it. Do you really not remember? It happened like a second ago.”

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by, “Egghead! Fireplace!”

Tatsumaki floated over to them, hands on her hips, a frown blatant across her face. Genos would never get over the fact that she looked like a seven-year-old. S-Class rank 2 and she looked like someone’s lost child. Though, if he thought hard enough about it, this could be some kind of lesson on not judging a book by its cover. But he usually didn’t and always had to fight the urge to hand her a lollipop or something.

“What did you—Did you touch this?” She asked, her anger radiating off of her with the force of a hurricane.

“Genos did it!” Saitama said quickly, hiding rather unceremoniously behind his companion.

“Of course he did. Toaster! Hot plate! Volcano! Vacuum—”

“What is it?” The cyborg interrupted, trying and failing to hide his irritation.

“I…” She trailed off, crossing her arms and looking away bitterly before continuing, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Why is it even here then?”

“I brought it here to find out what it was, blockhead. But now you’ve gone and ruined it. It doesn’t even look like it’s working anymore.” She huffed. She glanced away, eyes going up and down before she hesitantly met Genos’ gaze, a look of uncertainty coloring her face. “You said you touched it?”

He nodded. “I don’t really remember doing it.”

She swallowed, tapping her finger against her arm. “…Call me if anything…weird happens.”

Then, she was gone, levitating the orb and making it follow after her.

“Well, that’s not comforting,” Saitama sighed, scratching his ear. “You alright? Do you feel all mystical or anything?”

Genos shook his head. “I feel normal. My diagnostics aren’t picking up anything out of the ordinary.”

“Hm,” His Sensei looked as if he wanted to say something else, a hesitation deep within his facial expression. Instead, he settled for, “Well, let’s go. Mumen and Fubuki are waiting for us.”

He nodded, following after Saitama and shaking a funny feeling from his shoulders.

Genos paused in his writing, frowning down at his notebook before he brought his pen to his lips. He had just finished up the dishes for the evening, Saitama having decided to watch TV for the rest of the night. The older hero was lying on the ground beside him, head resting in his hand, legs crossed in front of him. The TV remote was resting on his stomach, it rising and falling as he breathed. He was focused entirely on whatever show he was watching. It appeared to be a comedy.

Genos sighed dreamily, eyes travelling over the expanse of his Sensei’s broad shoulders, the muscles just barely seen beneath the fabric of his shirt. That same fuzzy feeling touched his core and he couldn’t help but indulging it for the moment. It was nice. It felt as if he was on a cloud, drifting across the sky peacefully and happily. He wondered what those shoulders would feel like beneath his palm, what that smooth skin at Saitama’s neck would feel like, his face, his arms, his everything.

But then, Genos frowned, shaking his head at himself and forcing himself to start writing again. It was useless to have thoughts like that. They were never going to happen so there was no point in thinking them up. They distracted him from the real world. But…maybe sometimes it would be nice to at least dabble a little bit into fantasy.

He tilted his head thoughtfully at that. He ultimately rolled his eyes, forcing himself to be content with his current situation. If he could only be as close as he was right now to Saitama, then he’d be fine. So long as they were together, romantically or not, he would be happy.

He sighed again, eyelids drifting downward, head lolling ever so slightly. He felt tired all of a sudden, eyes fluttering as he breathed out, fingers weakening around his pen. He cleared his throat with difficulty, straightening up abruptly, shaking this odd fatigue away. He blinked away the sleep, focusing his attention on his notebook. He started writing again, making sure he followed each letter intently.

He hadn’t of been tired a few moments ago. And he normally went to bed a few hours later than this. That was rather…

Genos’ head drooped again, his pen slowing against the paper. He exhaled, eyelids growing heavier by the second. It felt as if he weighted a thousand pounds. He wasn’t a light individual but he could feel the true weight of himself in the moment, it was near crushing, like a boulder to his chest. His limbs struggled to move, going about as if he was travelling through water.

He was ready to fall backwards, drop to the ground and let sleep take him, guide him to some quiet, dreamlike place he could make his own.  

He hummed tiredly, drawing Saitama’s attention.

“Uh, hey, Genos? You good?”

His eyes finally fell closed and he nodded his head feebly, his pen lost to him, arms dropping to his lap. He heard Saitama shift beside him, a hand finding his shoulder, shaking him gently.

He blinked his eyes open, the action being one of the hardest things he ever had to do. He found Saitama’s face close, staring at him with concern. He glanced down at the hero’s mouth and that’s when he felt it, something else, something new, slithering into his mind. It was urging him forward, begging him to get closer, touch, be touched, give in. It was akin to what he felt earlier, an emerald green creeping in from the edges of his vision.

“Dude, you’re not—”

Genos kissed him before he could finish. Though, it was quite a stretch to call it a kiss. It was more of a drunken lean forward that inevitably ended with their lips pressed together. Neither of them had closed their eyes either, Genos too out of it and Saitama too surprised to reaction. There wasn’t anything special about it, more of a simple form of contact than anything else.

And, as the seconds ticked by and neither of them moved, Genos felt something bubble up from the pit of his stomach, an explosion rocketing through him, igniting his machinery and setting his mind ablaze. He blinked rapidly, his newfound energy thundering throughout him with the force of a hurricane. His mind began to catch up with him, sliding back into place with a metaphorical click.

That was when he pulled away with a jolt, steam puffing out of him as if he had just been drenched in water. He covered his face with his hands, shaking his head frantically in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t—I don’t know why I—I did that. Please forgive me!” He said hurriedly, his voice muffled.

“…I’m glad you’re feeling better? I guess?” Saitama said rather calmly despite everything.

Genos peeked through his fingers to find his companion staring at him, not in disgust or anger, but curiously with a soft touch of worry in his eyes.

“You’re not upset?” He asked quietly, hesitantly dropping his hands.

“Nah,” He replied with a shrug. “You didn’t look like you were into it, anyway.”

A touch of steam fluffed up at that and Genos chose to ignore that in favor of saying, “Because I…I wasn’t. I mean, I literally couldn’t stop myself. I felt as if I needed to do that.”

“You do look a lot livelier than you did a few minutes ago. Looked like you were gonna drop dead.”

He was incredibly relieved that Saitama was taking this all in stride. It made his embarrassment less of a burden. Though, he had to admit that a tiny, hidden, treacherous portion of himself was slightly peeved that his Sensei was acting rather nonchalantly about this. It fueled the thought that this love would remain eternally unrequited. Yay. The self-pity train was chugging on by.

Though, he had to agree with his companion. He did feel better. Like much better. Earlier, it felt as if sleep was his only option. Now, he felt relatively normal.

“I don’t know why I did that,” He said softly, absently touching his lips as he glanced away.

Saitama suddenly slapped him on the shoulder, drawing his attention away from the ground. “It’s the thingy!”

“Thingy?”

“The, uh, the black thing. The orb you touched. That’s gotta be it, right? Do you remember anything else about it?”

“It kept repeating ‘sleep’ in my head, over and over again.” He could still feel its echoes in the back of his mind.

“That’s it then.”

“What’s what?”

“This!” Saitama waved his hand up and down in front of him. “Geez. Keep up, Genos. You were probably all tired because of the orb. It must’ve done something to you.”

“That’s not encouraging,” He sighed, tilting his head to the side. “I suppose I’ll call Tatsumaki in the morning. She had said she wanted to know if anything was wrong.”

“Good luck with that conversation,”

Genos woke up like he normally did, bright and early at seven in the morning. He was glad he woke up at all. Before they went to bed, he had a strange foreboding fear that he wouldn’t be able to awaken the next day, whether it was because of the orb or some other hidden anxiety was beyond him. Though, he felt normal. At least for now. He decided on making breakfast, omelets coming to mind as he went into the kitchen.

He opened the fridge, grabbing a carton of eggs and placing them on the counter. Saitama let out a snore from the living room, a mumble following after and Genos couldn’t help but smile, a wistful sigh falling from his lips. He ticked on the stove and placed a pan on the front burner, humming to himself quietly as he shrugged his apron on.

Genos tentatively picked up one of the eggs, a certain caped hero coming to mind almost instantly. He tilted his head at it, eyes travelling over its steady curve, its light brown color contrasting the cold, lifeless grey of his fingertips. He brought it closer, squinting at it with an unnecessary intensity.

He couldn’t help but remember last night and the rather pitiful kiss he impressed upon his Sensei. It had been quite an odd experience if he compared it to everything else he had lived through. Saitama’s lips weren’t terrible either. They were soft and smooth, a rather companionable feeling against his own lifeless lips. The kiss itself was rather lackluster but Genos was trying not to think about how he just fell sideways and into Saitama’s space.

He had imagined many kisses between him and the older hero and none of them had ended up like yesterday’s. Though, most fantasies were often too perfect and far from reality to be easily replicated. Genos had planned on making his first kiss with Saitama, whether that was ever going to happen or not, memorable. Or, at least, enjoyable. For this one, Genos had been half asleep and Saitama had been too shocked to react.  

He was at least fortune in the fact that his Sensei had taken everything so well and in stride. He hadn’t seemed bothered by it at all and their friendship seemed to remain unchanged. If their relationship had been ruined, Genos didn’t know what he would do with himself. His heart would break to pieces. Well, his core. Either way, it would be devastating.

Though, he had to admit that he wouldn’t mind kissing Saitama again. He’d do it right this time. But, he knew that it would be incredibly unlikely for anything like that to ever happen again. Choo. Choo. Pity train’s back.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed his lips to the egg’s shell, eyes falling closed as he met its cool surface. He jerked back suddenly, fingers crushing the egg in the process. He groaned, throwing his head back in shame, gooey remains coating his hand and seeping between the cracks in his palm.

“Of course you’d do that, Genos. Of course you would.” He whispered to himself.

He frowned, turning the sink on and throwing his hand beneath the water, directing his anger towards nothing in particular. Once everything was cleaned up, he picked out a few new eggs and cracked them into the pan, a sizzling sliding into the air. He watched as their juices turned white, a few pops of oil splashing onto his arm. It distantly hurt but Genos was nonetheless unmoved.

He exhaled slowly, mesmerized by the tiny movements of the eggs in the pan. His eyelids drooped slightly, head rocking forward, arms dropping to his side. He could feel the tug of something in the back of his mind, a sweet caress drawing him further and further into himself. It touched his shoulders, moved up and down his body with a slow sort of methodical sensuality. He could feel himself drifting away, his legs struggling to keep him up. There was a whisper at his ear, a syncopated distortion that was both friend and stranger, an anomalous murmur against his skull.

Let him save you.

Suddenly, Saitama yawned loudly, sitting up to stretch his tired muscles. The sound jolted Genos awake, a short yell erupting from him. He slapped his hands over his mouth in shock, mentally berating himself for that stupid reaction.

“Whoa, hey, Genos, you good?” Saitama asked, sleepy voice fluttering into the air.

“I’m fine, Sensei,” He replied, muffled.

He heard a shuffle and Saitama was on his feet, padding to the bathroom and closing the door. He faintly heard the water running and that was when he finally relaxed, sighing at himself as he moved the eggs about in the pan.

It appeared that whatever affected him yesterday was still bothering him today, rolling through the room like a roar of thunder. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

Saitama came back into the room, stepping into the kitchen and opening the fridge. He yawned about an afternoon sale, vegetables and fruits being 40% off. Genos nodded along absently, a faraway feeling sliding back to him, settling over his shoulders, fogging his mind, silencing his words. It felt as if the Sandman was kissing his forehead, enticing him to slip his eyes closed and fall backwards into his arms.

“Genos?”

He stumbled back slightly, catching himself before he crashed to the ground. His knees threatened to give, staying strong through sheer force of will. His eyelids were so, so heavy, gravity begging him to let them shut, bring him darkness and sweet, sweet dreams. In all honesty, he didn’t know why he was resisting. Perhaps a nap wouldn’t be so—

There were fingers at his chin, yanking, roughly pulling his head to the side. Then, those same sweet, addicting lips were at his own, the smell of peppermint toothpaste rising to the air. He felt a hand at his back, a steady weight pressing against his shirt. A supernova erupted at his lips, bursting, ricocheting through him, jumpstarting his being, awakening his mind. It made him shiver, this newfound energy near overwhelming. It was as if he had been rapidly heated and then cooled, body trembling through the reaction.

Saitama finally pulled away and Genos’ eyes fluttered open, a breath falling from his lips.

“What was that for?” The cyborg asked quietly, meeting his companion’s gaze hesitantly.

“Proving a theory,” He replied casually, rolling his shoulders. “You feeling better?”

He nodded. “I’m not tired anymore.”

Saitama smirked. “So, I’m right. Wow. There’s a first time for everything.”

“About what?” He asked, turning the stove off. It looked like they were going to have scrambled eggs for breakfast instead of omelets.

“Yesterday you got all drowsy all of a sudden and then you kissed me and you were fine. Then, today it happened again. I kissed you and then you were alright. Weird sequence of events. That orb must be doing some funny stuff to you.”

Genos looked away, willing his core to settle and forcing himself to calm down. So, this kiss meant nothing too. Next stop: Pityville. “So far it’s only been the fatigue. That reminds me. I was supposed to call Tatsumaki.”

“Go ahead. I’ll finish up breakfast.”

He gave him a thankful smile before pulling out his phone and stepping onto the balcony. He closed the door behind him, cool morning air meeting him with an enthusiasm he couldn’t match. He keyed in Tatsumaki’s number, waiting patiently as it dialed. She picked up at the fourth ring, grumbling into the speaker with a tired voice.

“Huh? What? Who is it?”

“It’s Genos,”

“Ah, the microwave. What do you want?”

“The orb did do something to me. I’ve been having episodes of fatigue and drowsiness.” He said, ignoring the fact that she compared him to a home appliance yet again.

She remained silent for some time, the lack of her shrill voice being a blessing from the gods. “…And did you ever fall asleep during one of them?”

“Not yet,”

She sighed and he heard a scratching sound, probably her fingers to her head. “Good. I still don’t know what the thing is but I’ve found out more about it. There’s this saying or whatever that comes with it. It’s all jumbled up and I haven’t completely figured it out yet but it goes like this: ‘Immobile ones come to me, beg for my aid. Do something or face eternal slumber, a sleeplike death that will last until the end of time. Free yourself or remain frozen forever.’ The do something part is just a placeholder. I don’t know what goes there yet but that’s the general gist.”

Genos frowned, biting his lip and tapping his finger against the cement railing. “Thank you for telling me.”

Tatsumaki sighed and there was a softness to her voice as she said, “I’ll call you if I figure out anything else. Just…don’t fall asleep when you’re having an episode, okay?”

“Okay,”

And she hung up, leaving Genos alone with the wind, the birds and his racing thoughts.

He squeezed his eyes closed, taking in a deep breath as his mind caught up with him. He huffed, furrowing his brow, snapping his eyes open and reigning in his features. He put his phone back into his pocket and went inside. In the meantime, Saitama had plated their scrambled eggs, squeezing some ketchup onto his and leaving Genos’ bare.

“How did it go? Did she yell at you?”

“No,” He replied, glancing away before he continued. “You were right, Sensei. These bouts of lethargy are a result of my contact with the orb. Kissing me seems to alleviate the symptoms for a time.”

“Nice. I feel like a scientist.” Saitama said, gaze flickering up briefly to meet Genos’ through the kitchen window. However, he did a double take, furrowing his brows at whatever he saw. “You’re upset about something.”

Genos bit the inside of his cheek. Saitama’s ability to see right through him was both incredibly endearing and ridiculously frustrating at the same time. He didn’t even know why he tried to hide his emotions. Saitama almost always called him out on what he was feeling. Though, the same went for Genos. He often noticed when there was something off about his Sensei, being able to recognize when there was something bothering him almost instantly. Perhaps it was because they spent so much time together. Regardless, right now, this ability they shared sucked.

Genos pressed his lips together. “If I fall asleep during one of those fatigued moments, I will never wake up. It’s a ‘sleeplike death’ as Tatsumaki put it.”

Saitama blinked at him for a moment, expression surprisingly unreadable. Finally, he shrugged, bringing their plates into the living room and placing them on the table. “That means I just have to keep kissing you.”

“Wait—But—Aren’t you bothered by that?” He sputtered out, steam threatening to puff from his arms.

“Nope. Why should I be?” The older hero narrowed his eyes at him before asking, “Are you?”

“I…No,” Well, that was a flat out lie. Hopefully Saitama didn’t notice. “But are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Course I don’t. Besides, it’s just a friendly peck on the lips. I heard that people out west do that all the time. Come on, Genos. Let’s eat.”

The cyborg furrowed his brows but ultimately sat down at the table.

Genos did not fidget. Given that his entire body, save for his brain, was made of metal and he had no nerves and muscles that deemed the need to twitch, Genos did not fidget. And as such, the unsteadiness in his legs and the restlessness of his hands at the moment were a result of something else entirely. Because, Genos did not fidget.

He bit his lip, chancing a glance at his roommate who was engrossed in the video game he was currently playing, body moving and jerking with each turn of his virtual car. Genos let out a deep breath, frowning as his fingers drummed nervously against his thigh.

He knew why he was acting this way and it was for an entirely ridiculous reason. A few days had passed since he had initially touched the mystical orb and within those few days he had been kissed by Saitama four times. Technically five but the fifth was their first kiss, which Genos initiated by himself. All other times, he had let Saitama lean forward and do the deed.

He couldn’t do it himself because he knew, he just knew that he’d let himself slip, fall, drift into fantasy the moment he pressed his lips to Saitama’s. His eyes would flutter closed and he’d let himself think that this was real, this was because the older hero loved him, this was because Saitama simply wanted to kiss him not because Genos would be dead without it.

He sighed dreamily, dropping his head into his hand as he rested his arm over the table.

Perhaps another reason Genos refused to kiss Saitama was because it felt so…fake. He knew his own feelings and this action made things feel artificial to him, as if he was stuck in a fantasy world where everything was at his fingertips. He could make everyone and anyone do whatever he wanted and that’s what this felt like. It also didn’t help the fact that Saitama held no romantic feelings towards him at all. This kissing to him was just a way to keep his disciple alive. To Genos, it was what could have been, can be if he was feeling particularly optimistic.

He also wasn’t the best at physical contact. People often shied away from his touch given how much it lacked human…flavor. He was a walking hunk of metal. Who would want to touch that?

Genos sighed again, this time drawing Saitama’s attention. The older hero turned his head to glance over his shoulder before shifting around fully. “Tired?”

The cyborg quickly shook his head. “Just thinking, Sensei,”

Saitama narrowed his eyes at him. “You sure? You’re not feeling a nap coming along or something?”

“No but that reminds me. I’ve notice a pattern with my sleep spells. So far, they only occur once a day. They aren’t exactly 24-hour cycles and they don’t happen at the same time of day but they still only happen once.” He rattled off, desperate to keep the thought of kissing Saitama from his mind.

“Look at you figuring that out,” His Sensei said, a touch of fondness in his voice.

Saitama’s lips cracked into a smile for a brief moment before he turned back around and continued playing his game. Genos blinked at him for a few seconds, ultimately dropping his gaze with an exhale, his core whirring at a faster pace. Oh, that would not do.            

After a week, Saitama knew that Genos was uncomfortable about kissing him. He was probably trying to hide it but he was failing miserably at it. One of the biggest clues was the fact that the cyborg still had yet to kiss him. It was always Saitama leaning in or getting into his space. The only time he ever truly kissed him was the first time but neither of them really counted that.

He couldn’t blame the teen for being uncomfortable. Genos never seemed the sort for physical contact and an action as intimate as this probably unsettled him a little. That was why Saitama limited their kisses to around five or so seconds. Really, the cyborg shouldn’t be bothered by the contact. It meant nothing and it was more for Genos’ survival than anything.

Over the course of the next week, the contact became more frequent, increasing from once a day to a few times a day. There was no set schedule behind Genos’ drowsy episodes other than the fact that each day had its set number of occurrences. Though each became more sporadic than the last. Saitama would often have to look over at his companion periodically to make sure he was still fully functioning because for some odd and rather frustrating reason the cyborg would never tell him when he was feeling tired. It would just be more helpful if Genos took the initiative and kiss him when he needed to.

He actually didn’t know if the cyborg needed to kiss him specifically or if anyone would do. But thinking about someone else doing this with Genos left a weird feeling in his stomach so he tried not to dwell on it. 

Right now, they were at the Hero Association, Genos having been called in for another meeting. Saitama had opted out of sitting in with him, choosing to wander the halls instead of listening to random people complain about things. By now, the meeting was probably over and he turned around casually, making his way back to where he had left his disciple. He found him and the other S-Class heroes scattered around the end of the hall. Most of them were leaving like Zombieman and Metal Bat but some stayed to converse with one another.

He was surprised to find Genos speaking to Tatsumaki. King was standing beside them but it was easy to tell that it was mostly the other two doing the talking. Though, he supposed recently it was less shocking given their current situation.

As he moved towards them, he couldn’t help but overhear King say, “You okay, Genos? You’re looking a little off.”

“I’m fine.”

That made him frown.

“Hey, Saitama.” King said, smirking.

“Yo,” He greeted, moving to stand between Tatsumaki and Genos.

He casually glanced at the cyborg and found his attention fixed solely on the esper in front of him. More specifically it was on a spot just beneath her chin. His eyes were blank, mind occupied with something Saitama would never be able to grasp. He blinked slowly, so slowly that it raised a red flag. He was still actively talking to Tatsumaki but, in a way, he also wasn’t. 

The older hero bit his lip, crossing his arms to keep from tightening his hands into fists.

“Of course you’d think of it like that, Genos.” Tatsumaki sighed, rolling her eyes.

“There’s no other way to think about it,” He replied, taking in a deep breath.

“There is, idiot! You just can’t see it.”

“Distributing tasks like that wouldn’t be…be…” He trailed off and there was a moment of silence between them before he said, “Efficient.”

Tatsumaki’s face twisted up briefly. “Ugh, why do I talk to you?”

He shrugged. It was a rather heavy movement, one that appeared to need a lot of effort. “I’m a compelling conversationalist.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, glaring at Saitama once she finally realized he was standing there. “Whatever. This is all a hypothetical conversation anyway.”

And with that, she floated away, rounding the corner and disappearing from their sight. They watched her leave, Genos turning his head as she left. He met Saitama’s gaze when he turned back, glassy eyes flickering down to his lips before he shifted his attention to King.

For some reason, that upset Saitama, a strange sort of exasperation sizzling deep within the pit of his stomach. He frowned, his hand tightening around his bicep. Why, oh, why was Genos being so difficult?

He snatched the cyborg’s wrist as he said, “Sorry, King. We’ve gotta go too.”

He was already halfway down the hallway by the time King replied, a singular sort of goal the only thing on his mind. He tugged to make sure Genos was following after him and sighed when he met very little resistance. He shot a look over his shoulder to find the cyborg trailing behind him, a look of tired confusion having crossed his face.

Saitama paused, ducking his head into an empty room before dragging Genos into it and pushing him up against the wall.

He kissed him, pressing far too close and kissing far too passionately for it to be a simple peck on the lips. He dropped his hands to the cyborg’s waist, fingers sliding over grooves and indents as they drifted upward, cascading back down and over his torso as his touches became more frantic. He moved his lips with a slow sort of hedonistic enthusiasm, his tongue slipping into Genos’ mouth freely and resolutely.

Genos made a low whine, his body trembling beneath Saitama’s fingertips. His core was whirring at a faster pace, a faint vibration travelling over Saitama’s limbs. The older hero was happy to note that the cyborg wasn’t stick stiff beneath him, hesitant robotic hands rising up to his shoulders. It took a while for Genos to kiss back and when he did, he matched Saitama’s pace perfectly and easily, pushing against him with a lighter kind of confidence.

The older hero finally pulled away, inhaling and exhaling before he said, “You,” He took in another breath, firmly jabbing a finger to the cyborg’s chest as he continued, “Need to start taking care of yourself better. Stop being hesitant around me. Kiss me if you need to. And stop being uncomfortable about it. Like, seriously. You could die if you keep this up and I don’t want my first and only student to go dying on me. Understand?”

Genos blinked at him, breathless and starry-eyed, lips hanging open, arms slowly dropping back down to his sides. He finally shook away his stupor, nodding frantically.

Saitama chose to ignore the touch of spit at the corner of the cyborg’s mouth. He chose to ignore the way the room’s light fell over him, illuminating him elegantly and magnifying the obscene and downright mesmerizing way he licked his lips. He chose to ignore the slight upturn of Genos’ hair where Saitama’s hand had somehow been at some point. He also chose to ignore the rapid beating of his own heart, the pleasant thrum beneath his fingertips, the lingering feeling of Genos’ body against his own, the blood rushing violently to his head, and the desire to draw the cyborg back into his arms and start all over again.

He told himself that he was angry with Genos, that that fading indignation had made him press too hard, kiss too roughly, dig his fingers in too greedily. He told himself that this meant nothing just as all those other times didn’t either. This was to keep Genos alive.

“Good,” He said, more to himself than anyone else. “Let’s go. We’ve got a sale to catch.”

And with that, he left the room, the feel of warm metal lingering dangerously beneath his palms.

It would be much later, hours later after dinner, when Saitama noticed Genos’ eyes on him, boring into his head like a nail to plaster. He wasn’t doing anything particularly unnatural, simply reading his manga as he sat against the wall, knees tucked into his chest. He could see Genos over the top of the book, eyes focused so intently on him that he was actually kind of impressed. The cyborg would occasionally look away and down, perhaps scribble something in his notebook before he would stare at him again, this silent song and dance continuing for a good 10 to 15 minutes.

And Saitama let him do whatever the hell he was doing. Genos often stared at him and he had learned early into their friendship that it was more for academic purposes than anything else. So, he paid very little mind to him as he continued reading, a small, silly, traitorous part of himself secretly liking the attention.

That is until Genos’ head bobbed, dropping down and shooting back up in record time.

Ah.

Saitama glanced at him the moment he looked down at his notebook. Genos didn’t look too terribly tired so he decided to wait and give the cyborg as much time as he needed to figure himself out. Besides, Genos liked to be challenged.

He turned a page in his book but the plot was lost to him now, having found something entirely more interesting to focus on. He turned another page, eyes trained on the book’s spine as he watched his disciple's head bob again.

Genos needed to get over this hump himself, convince himself that whatever discomforted him was miniscule in comparison to his own life. Saitama didn’t even know what could bother the cyborg so much to make him so hesitant. Perhaps he very strongly disliked touching others. Though, that time in the Hero Association debunked that theory and Saitama forced his mind to keep from reliving that pleasant memory. Perhaps Genos didn’t like the thought of kissing him? He tried to not be mildly offended by that but his attention was drawn back to the Hero Association once again.

Genos had seemed rather pliant beneath his fingers, his initial stiffness being a natural response. So, perhaps it was something else entirely?

Saitama furrowed his brows and flipped the page. He had to admit that the cyborg was taking his sweet time, doing that same look, don’t look in rapid succession. Finally, Genos put his pen down, shifting so that one of his hands was on the ground, torso twisted toward him. He crawled over slowly and Saitama fought to keep his attention on anything but him,  doing everything in his power not to spook his disciple.  

Genos stopped beside him and that was when he lowered his manga, gaze flickering up to meet the cyborg’s bright, radiant eyes. Genos’ lips were parted, eyebrows sky high as he regarded his sensei, a dash of nervousness and fear blatant across his face. Saitama feigned indifference, tilting his head up in invitation, eyelids half closed. He waited, waited, and waited until Genos leaned forward, touching their lips together with the faintest of pressure, a ghostly sensation that was nonetheless endearing and adorable.

It took all of Saitama’s willpower to keep from smiling or shifting, remaining a statue for as long as Genos needed. The cyborg finally moved closer, one of his hands rising to the older hero’s neck and the other falling to one of his knees. Each touch made something sizzle within the pit of Saitama’s stomach. It bubbled pleasantly with every second that passed, with every movement of Genos’ lips and it vibrated lovingly throughout his bones and muscles and skin and…everything.

That same something made him bring his hand up to the cyborg’s shoulder. It made him push closer, hum against his lips, forget where they were, throw his heart into an erratic rhythm.

Genos finally pulled away, another starry, vibrant expression draped across his face. Saitama smiled and the cyborg snapped out of it, eyes nervously flickering down as he hurried back to the table, settling back into place and frantically scribbling in his notebook.

Saitama sighed but didn’t say anything, willing all of those odd feelings back into the recesses of his mind.

That moment must have been some coming of age ceremony for Genos because after that, their kisses became easier and less uncomfortable. They became a normal part of their routine: wake up, kiss Genos, eat breakfast, kiss Genos, eat lunch, kiss Genos, eat dinner, kiss Genos. There was no hesitation anymore, simply a call of his name and the cyborg was pressing their lips together. It became a rather domestic and mundane thing, something perhaps reflexive in a way.

Saitama rarely gave thought to when he’d lean over Genos and kiss him as he washed the dishes or kiss him good morning. Though, he did give thought to the fact that he started to wake up before the cyborg. And he knew why. Somewhere deep, dark, and sinister gave rise to the fear that Genos might not awaken in the morning, remain an eternal image of peaceful sleep. So, Saitama would never frown at himself as he waited for the cyborg to wake up, eyes fixated on every twitch and hum that befell his sleeping form. And there was always a rush of relief whenever Genos’ eyes fluttered open at 7 am on the dot.

Even when they were with their friends, Saitama’s movements were fluid and instinctual, turning his head just enough when Genos called his name so that he could keep his eyes on the game he and King were playing and kiss the cyborg at the same time. Of course, they had to explain everything to Mumen, Fubuki and King, the esper being particularly entertained by their predicament. Mumen had had an odd smile on his face and King simply shrugged.

 With that, life continued on as it normally did, the world still turning just with a bit more smooches.

Saitama huffed as he opened his apartment door, letting it slide closed behind him as he rolled his shoulders, sweat dripping down his back. He was greeted by a familiar sight, Genos fully aproned, leaning over the counter as he stirred something in a bowl.

“Welcome back, Sensei. How was your run?” The cyborg asked without turning around, humming in disappointment at something.

“Same old, same old. What’s wrong?” He replied, turning the sink on and filling a glass with water.

“Nothing important,” Genos said though he could practically hear the frown in his voice. “I just…I’m making a cake because Mumen and Fubuki are coming over for dinner and I remembered Mumen had said he really liked red velvet.”

“…What’s so wrong about that?”

“I don’t have any icing.”

“So?”

“Cakes need icing, Sensei.” He said firmly, turning around to fix him with a rather serious expression.

“Oh,” Saitama paused, his lips threatening to curl into a smile. “I could just go out and get some real quick.”

“You don’t need to. I can make something else.”

“But you already started making it. It’s no biggie. Besides, we’re out of sardines too, right? Just lemme take a shower first.”

Genos’ mouth screwed up but he didn’t protest any further, simply turning around to frown at his computer screen.

When Saitama came back from the bathroom, he found the cyborg stirring red cake batter in a bowl with a whisk, the bowl balanced against his hip as he aimlessly moved about the kitchen humming to himself. He stopped when Saitama approached, smiling that faint, beautiful smile.

That same feeling found its way back to him, fluttering his heart and making him distantly giddy.  

“So, what? Vanilla?” The older hero asked to distract himself, patting his shorts to make sure he had his wallet.

“Cream cheese,” Genos frowned, leaning over the oven as he fiddled with its temperature.

“I gotcha. I gotcha.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be back in like 15 or so minutes.”

“See you then,”

Saitama left the apartment, sighing into the late morning air. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly in the sky with clouds peppered here and there. The next city wasn’t that far over and his favorite grocery store was just at the cusp of its border with city Z. So, it really wouldn’t take that long to get back to Genos.

The image of the cyborg in the kitchen popped back into his head and he frowned, wondering why it had affected him so much. The entire image made him feel…cozy in a way, peaceful. When he saw Genos standing there with that ridiculous pink apron holding an off-white bowl with that smile…it…felt…nice? That was the only way he could put it. This was why he never thought too hard on feelings. They were so…weird.

“Hey! Saitama!”  

He turned to find Mumen pedaling towards him, a grin plastered to his face. He stopped in front of him, dropping his foot to the ground to steady himself.

“Oh, hey,”

“Whatcha doing?” The rider asked enthusiastically, tilting his head to the side and reminding Saitama of an adorable puppy.

“Just heading to the store for a bit. We’re out of—” He stopped himself, wondering if Genos wanted the cake to be a surprise. “—Sardines.”

“Isn’t that Genos’ favorite food?” Mumen asked, a smile forming at his lips.

“Yep. The things I do for my disciple,” He shrugged nonchalantly, eyes falling closed for a brief second. “Wanna come with?”

“Sure! Hop on.”

Saitama settled in over the bike’s back wheels, willing away the memory of the first time he did this. He really didn’t like thinking about the Sea King. He never wanted to see Genos that beaten up again.

“Tally ho, my good man.” He said, pointing towards the horizon.

They reached the grocery store in record time. There were just around a dozen people in the store, children running and laughing between the aisles. Saitama forewent a shopping basket given that he only needed to get two things. Though, if he wanted to get more he could just stuff his things into Mumen’s.

He grabbed two tubs of cream cheese icing, humming in disapproval when he discovered that there was no sale for baking supplies. He wandered over to the canned goods aisle and lingered in front of the sardines and tuna. He always forgot which brand of sardines Genos liked because there were way too many to pick from. He vaguely remembered him eating ones from a red can so he grabbed the only red ones he saw. Though, maybe they had actually been in a purple can.

He frowned just as Mumen joined back up with him, his basket filled to the brim with chips and vegetables.

“What’s wrong?”

Saitama turned over one of the cans in his hand. “I don’t remember which kind of sardines Genos likes.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind. It’s the thought that counts. Besides, he’ll still give you a little kiss regardless.” Mumen said softly, chuckling to himself.  

“Hm,”

Though, suddenly, Saitama froze, eyes widening, fingers tightening around the can of sardines.

Did he kiss Genos before he left?

He was supposed to. He always did that before he went anywhere without him.

“Saitama?”

He kissed him that morning before his run but not when he came back, not while Genos was stirring the cake batter and not before he went out the door a second time.

He took a panicked step back, dropping the tubs of icing from his arm. He hurriedly dug in his pocket for his phone, dialing Genos’ number and waiting, waiting agonizingly for the cyborg to answer, to soothe his worries and assure him that he was very much awake and fully conscious. But it kept ringing, ringing, ringing until it reached his voicemail, the cyborg’s monotonous voice meeting him blandly.

Saitama inhaled sharply, lowering the phone from his ear, his hand trembling with the force of his terror.

He was out the door in a flash, running as fast as he could through the city, people and buildings flitting by him as he strained his legs to reach supersonic speeds.

He was back at their apartment in minutes, throwing the door open so forcefully that the top hinges fell apart.

“Genos!”

The cyborg was on the ground, legs stretched out in front of him, back pressed against the cabinets, eyes shut, head lolled to the side. His arms were motionless beside him, his phone and a whisk scattered near his left and right hands. The mixing bowl was sitting on the counter, a half filled baking pan resting beside it. Perhaps Genos had made a conscious effort to place the bowl back on the counter before he passed out, his phone having been out to call or answer a message.

Saitama dropped to his knees beside him, drawing him into his arms as he gasped for breath, frantically looking over the cyborg’s sleeping form. Genos’ chest was rising and falling ever so slowly, his core whirring quietly beneath his apron. His lips were parted slightly, an oddly peaceful aura falling over him. In any other moment, Saitama would have let his eyes linger over the cyborg’s youthful, relaxed face but right now a horrified sickness poisoned his heart, making him shake with a terror he hadn’t felt in a long time.

And because of that, he didn’t hesitate to kiss Genos, brows drawing together when he touched still lips. He pulled away, sucking in a sharp breath when the cyborg didn’t immediately awaken. He leaned down again, kissing him with a new sense of desperation.     

He didn’t know what he’d do without Genos. A world without the teen would be so…empty and meaningless, dark, dreary, and worthless. He wanted to see that beautiful smile again, those interstellar, luminous eyes looking up at him with adoration. He wanted to hear Genos say his name again, his deep, spine-tingling voice wrapping around each and every syllable with devotion and happiness. He wanted to relive the moment he had finally made the cyborg laugh, that glorious sound etched eternally onto his soul.  

He didn’t want to think about never seeing him excitedly point out a sale at the grocery store again or hesitantly petting a cat that dared to cross his path or…or watch his face screw into deep concentration as he wrote in his notebook or proudly show Saitama one of his drawings of him when he had dozed off.

“Come on, Genos,” He whispered against his lips, kissing him again more forcefully than he meant to. “Please,”

Genos startled awake with a gasp, twitching violently into consciousness, eyes wide as they frantically darted about the room before settling over him in confusion.

All the tension and fear and anxiety fled from Saitama in an instant. He sighed in exuberant relief, pulling the cyborg to his chest as if to make sure that right now was real, that this wasn’t some twisted painful dream. This was real. His disciple was okay.

“What happened?” Genos asked, voice muffled against his shirt, hands settling hesitantly against his back.

He lowered him back down, taking in a deep breath before saying, “You fell asleep.”

The cyborg blinked at him for a silent moment, brows furrowing into his trademark look. “Oh,” His eyes flickered away briefly as he said, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I forgot. I should have—”

“No. It’s my fault. Maybe it’s both our faults but that doesn’t matter anymore,” Saitama interrupted, swallowing thickly. “You alright?”

Genos nodded slowly, lifting one of his hands to touch his forehead. “I’m fine. I remember…feeling tired and then wanting to call you but I couldn’t do anything and then I was here.”

The older hero smiled weakly, flattening his palm against the cyborg’s chest, grounding himself.

“I’m okay, Sensei.” He heard his disciple whisper, hand sliding over his own.

He didn’t think he’d ever hear that name again.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Just don’t go doing this too often or you’re gonna make me have a heart attack at 25.”

Then, Genos smiled and all was right with the world.

Mumen knew that he was more observant than the average person. The skill wasn’t exactly supernatural but it was very good nonetheless. He noticed whenever Fubuki was feeling particularly inferior to her sister, whenever King was a bit more anxious than normal, whenever Saitama was having one of his sadder days and whenever Genos was upset. He noticed when people were trying to hide things from him and he also noticed things that people would simply brush off or give little time to.

So, he noticed the new…dynamic in Genos and Saitama’s relationship. It was as if there had been a blatant shift the day he showed up for dinner and to drop off the icing and sardines Saitama had been shopping for before he thundered out the door. The cake was delicious, by the way. And every successive meeting after that day displayed this same difference in their interactions. He couldn’t describe the overall feeling but he could see it in their movements, in their words, in the little things they did without even knowing.

Saitama’s eyes lingered over Genos far longer and far more frequently than they used to. It didn’t matter what he was doing. His gaze would eventually gravitate to the cyborg, watching him fondly, following his every move and action. It was rather cute given that things rarely interested Saitama enough to keep his attention. And, the way he’d look at Genos was something right out of a love story, as if every fiber of the cyborg’s being encompassed the universe.

Genos made a conscious effort to touch Saitama more often. Whether it was a hand to his arm or his shoulder, Genos was more than likely touching his sensei somewhere. Once, Mumen had found his hand at Saitama’s waist as they stood in front of each other, conversing about the mundane and some odd TV show they watched. And, sometimes Saitama would be the one with a hand somewhere, tugging the cyborg after him as they walked or at the small of his back as he guided him towards something.

And then there were the kisses. When they had first explained their situation to him, Mumen nearly laughed because of course it would be those two stuck with this problem. And the kisses were simple enough. Genos had initially been nervous around the others but that fear had mellowed out into nonexistence. Besides, the kisses used to last five seconds max. Now, they didn’t. They were longer, more drawn out, each party being more…enthusiastic with the gesture. It was an intricate dance, a deep conversation between the two that was, for some reason, not reaching either of their ears.

Because, as far as Mumen knew, Genos and Saitama weren’t dating. It sure as hell looked like they were but apparently nothing had changed in that department. And he wasn’t surprised. Genos had been in love with Saitama for quite some time and the older hero simply just didn’t get that. He didn’t fault him for that. Saitama wasn’t exactly the best at understanding feelings whether they were his own or someone else’s. It was cute in a way but one day it had to be fixed.

And perhaps Mumen was the one to fix it. He was a hero after all and he never shied away from helping those in need.

His opportunity came during a spontaneous attack on city E, two giants causing destruction with every step they took. Mumen had arrived just as Genos and Saitama did, landing next to his bike with the grace of two superhuman beings. And the giants were massive, blocking out the sun with just their shoulders.

“Oh, hey, Mumen,” Saitama said with a wave, seemingly unaffected by the monsters just steps behind him.

“Rider, I recommend you help evacuate civilians,” Genos commented without missing a beat, looking up at their opponents as he assessed the situation.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” He replied.

And with that, the duo shot up into the air, engaging the giants in an odd sort of mesmerizing dance. Though, Mumen didn’t stay to watch for long, focusing his attention on getting people out of buildings and from beneath rubble. He guided screaming children and parents to a safe zone, telling them to run and run and never look back. He, in particular, had to convince an elderly woman to abandon her shop and find safety.

Once he was sure everyone was gone, he rode back to the battle, returning just as Genos touched the ground only to shoot back up into the air again. He threw a blast of fire into his giant’s face, throwing it to the ground and shaking the earth with a vicious rumble, buildings and trees crumbling into nothing. Genos rocketed down into the giant one last time, incinerating its upper body with a swift and powerful blast of his cannons.

The light emitted from the attack grew so bright that Mumen had to look away, throwing a hand up to his eyes. He smiled once the smoke and debris settled, revealing an untouched cyborg dropping back down to the ground. Mumen ran up to him, ready to sing his praise and thanks. Though, he stopped when he noticed how unsteady Genos was on his feet, stumbling back a bit before putting in the effort to keep himself up.

“You okay, Genos?” He asked once he reached him.

“I’m fine,” The cyborg replied hurriedly, eyes skyward as he found Saitama in the air.

“Well, if you fall over can you make sure it’s not towards me? You’re kind of heavy.”

“I’ll try.”

Mumen looked up as well, finding their resident Caped Baldy with his arm drawn back, hand tightened into a fist. He surged forward, sucker punching the last giant right in the cheek, disintegrating it in a matter of seconds. Mumen couldn’t help but glance at Genos, smiling when he saw the look of complete awe and wonder stretched across the youth’s face.

Saitama dropped down a few feet away from them and the duo stepped over to meet him.

As they got closer, the hero frowned at something he saw in Genos’ eyes, marching over to him with a renewed sort of purpose.

He touched a hand to the cyborg’s arm and asked, “You alright?”

Genos tilted his head away. “I’m completely intact.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

With a hum, the cyborg leaned forward, eyes falling closed. Saitama met him halfway, drawing him in for a passionate kiss. They moved against each other easily and fluidly, complementing each other in a way others could only dream of. There was no hesitation, no doubt, no uncertainty. Mumen could practically see a new energy course through Genos, drawing outward and down to his feet, a hum drifting from his lips. They continued like that for some time, obviously having forgotten where they were and who they were with. They were in their own little world and from what Mumen could see, it appeared to be a beautiful one.

Genos’ phone started to ring but neither paid any mind to it, too engrossed in each other to bother with trivial matters such as that. It rang and rang and the cyborg finally pulled away with a resonant pop. They separated as Genos answered the call, responding to each of the Hero Association’s questions with rehearsed professionalism. He stepped away to continue the conversation, leaving Saitama and Mumen alone together.

The rider couldn’t hide the giant smile he knew was plastered across his face. Seeing those two together just made him feel all fuzzy inside.

Saitama narrowed his eyes at him. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” He sighed, biting his Cheshire grin down into submission. “You’re both just cute together, is all.”

The hero blinked at him for a long moment, tilting his head to the side as he asked, “…What do you mean by that?”

“You really haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?” He asked in genuine confusion.

“How much you’re in love with Genos,” There. He said it. Let the pieces fall where they may.

“You’re funny,” Saitama said dismissively, a weak laugh tumbling into the air. He crossed his arms over his chest as he slowly rolled his eyes to the left. A silent moment passed, the only sounds being Genos’ voice as he talked into his phone and debris rolling from broken buildings. And Mumen could practically see a thread break in Saitama’s mind, his head jolting in shock, eyes snapping back to the center, brows furrowing to oblivion and beyond, a heavy exhale falling from his lips. “…Shit.”

He turned his head, staring at Genos under a new and perhaps startling light. Saitama looked simultaneously horrified, captivated, and nervous. Yet, remarkably, he didn’t seem as surprised as Mumen thought he would. Perhaps somewhere in that bald head of his, no matter how deep or obscure, some part of him knew. Maybe it was the part he never listened to or forgot was there, a part that had dulled to near nonexistence over the course of many years alone and in solitude. But it knew, it always knew. Saitama’s gears just had to align the right way for him to see what was right in front of him.

“Shit,” He whispered again, this time more softly and tenderly, a smile tugging at his lips.

Genos finally hung up the phone, trudging back over to them and looking between the two with loveable ignorance. “Ready to go? The Hero Association will be here shortly for clean up.”

“Yep. You guys wanna get something to eat?” Mumen asked, eyes flickering over to Saitama.

“Yeah…food sounds great,” The hero said slowly, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Are you okay, Sensei?”

“Never better, Genos. Never better,”

And Mumen couldn’t help but smile at that.

Saitama chewed on his chop sticks absently, watching as his cyborg sidekick bustled about in the kitchen. Their dinner was laid out on the table, a delicious blend of hot pot, noodles, and meat ready to be consumed. There was more food than normal because King had intended to come over but he cancelled last minute. Saitama didn’t mind. More for him. Though, a part of him had wanted another person as a distraction, to keep him from focusing so intently on his disciple.

Mumen shouldn’t have told him that he was in love with Genos. It was true. Oh, holy seafood gods, it was painfully true. He had nearly hit himself for how dense he had been. It all made so much sense, everything falling into place with an illuminating and rather embarrassing clarity. Of course he fell in love with Genos and of course it took him so long to notice.

There was a reason Saitama didn’t pursue relationships or stuck around whenever someone was having an emotional moment. He really didn’t do feelings well. And if anyone tried to argue against that, he had several pieces of evidence supporting his claim.

Item A: He regularly told himself that kissing Genos was simply and irrefutably because the cyborg needed him to and he was so convinced by this sentiment that he ignored any possible emotions that dallied in his mind.

Item B: In relation to Item A, he consciously chose not to dwell on odd thoughts he’d have in regards to Genos, whether fuzzy or romantic.

Item C: He failed to notice how often he’d get carried away when he kissed Genos, lapsing into a rather peaceful fantasy that consisted of only him and the cyborg, everything else being insignificant.

Item D: He had enough evidence to convince himself that he was an idiot and that he really needed to work on things in the emotional department.

Saitama sighed, a smile threatening to commandeer his lips as he watched Genos’ face screw up into disgust for whatever reason.

What was he supposed to do now? Tell the cyborg? Maybe? He could probably handle rejection. He was familiar with the concept, having been told ‘no’ a number of times. He hadn’t of been incredibly saddened when refused by potential partners so it might go well.

His disciple finally sat down at the table, giving him a gorgeous smile before reaching for some food. Saitama pressed his lips together, busying himself with a piece of cabbage between his chop sticks, rolling it about nervously. He took in a deep breath.

“Hey, Genos, I—” His voice caught in his throat the moment the cyborg looked over, his bright, radiant, celestial eyes regarding him intensely. It made his pulse quicken, a slight dizziness touching his mind. “I…uh…”

He dropped the cabbage, the vegetable making a wet thud against his plate.

“What is it, Sensei?”

Genos was mesmerizing, a goddamn masterpiece. He didn’t know why the cyborg’s appearance was affecting him so strongly right now especially given the fact that he already knew Genos looked this way. It was blatantly obvious that Demon Cyborg was handsome, fucking stunning was more like it. He moved with a grace that shouldn’t exist with the kind of body he had and yet he made every movement appear effortless and flawless. He had a fan club dedicated to how beautiful he was so the thought of Genos being attractive shouldn’t have been so surprising at the moment.

Yet, for some reason, all Saitama could think about was the way the cyborg’s lips were parted, the way the light reflected off of his arms, the slight tilt of his head as he stared at him, and the adorable way his eyes were wide, childlike and full of wonder.

“It, uh,” His words were thick with something, struggling to make it out of his mouth like syrup from a bottle. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

There was a tiny crease between Genos’ brows but he ultimately dropped the subject, choosing to strike up a conversation about the new store that opened up in the next city over. The rest of dinner went as normally as it always did, laughter and excited rants mixing with the taste of delicious pork and beef. Soon, that initial moment of nervousness was behind Saitama, drifting away to the back of his mind as he simply enjoyed being around Genos.

Before he knew it, the cyborg was already cleaning up and putting away their plates.

“What was it you were going to tell me earlier, Sensei?” Genos asked as he placed their dishes into the sink.

“I…” He paused, looking down at the pot he was carrying. “I forgot.”

The cyborg huffed in frustration, turning around in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s not really it. Is it, Sensei?”

Saitama nearly caved, placing the pot on the counter. “No, no, it is! I really forgot.”

Genos frowned, looking him up and down slowly before saying, “Okay,”

He stepped closer, resting a hand at his waist, leaning forward with the motion. Saitama automatically pulled him in but hesitated. His disciple instantly noticed, leaning away slightly.

“There is something on your mind.”

Goddamn this cyborg for being so perceptive.

Saitama didn’t reply, pressing their lips together before he said anything he was going to regret. Genos instantly melted beneath his fingers, kissing back just as much as he was giving. The older hero’s heart thrummed lovingly behind his ribs, his bones, his muscles, his blood reacting pleasurably to the cyborg. He felt at home here, right here, with Genos’ arms wrapped tightly around him. This was when he felt the most alive, his adoration and devotion magnified to 1000, every fiber of his being gravitating comfortably around this one singular person.

He pulled away, grinning like a fool as he watched Genos’ eyes flutter open and blink back into focus.

“Genos, I…”

There was a change in the cyborg’s expression, a brief recognition of sorts, a shift in his brow, a widening of his eyes, a touch of hope.

“I—”

Saitama was interrupted by Genos’ phone ringing, the cyborg nearly jumping out of his clothes at the sound. They separated and Saitama hurried into the living room, dropping down and turning the TV on. He didn’t care what he was watching, so long as he did something to calm his thundering heart. He let out a deep breath as he tightened his grip on the remote.

That was a close one.

“Oh, really?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Genos engrossed in conversation, his phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he turned the sink on.   

 “Tomorrow? Okay.” He hung up the phone, leaning a bit out of the kitchen as he said, “Sensei, it appears Tatsumaki finally found out what the device is. She said she can fix whatever is wrong with me and that we should meet her in the Hero Association building tomorrow morning.”

“Great,” Saitama said, confusion bubbling up at the sudden disappointment he felt.

“You idiots should be thanking me for all of the effort and energy I put into fixing your little problem,” Tatsumaki huffed with her arms crossed, narrowing her eyes at them in scrutiny.

“Thank you,” Genos said genuinely, a half smile tugging at his lips, Saitama giving a nod of gratitude.

The esper deflated slightly but she quickly recovered, her face morphing into a scowl. “Well, anyway, this little guy—” She gestured towards the black orb. “—Is an ancient artifact. Turns out it was imbued with a piece of a very old goddess’ soul. This goddess personified change, the progression of time, and movement. She thrived off of getting people out of repetitive cycles and encouraged people to take a leap of faith by literally forcing their hand. She made devices like this to lure in individuals who, in particular, were struggling with a desire for change. So, she used these things to curse people into continually performing an action that would inevitably result in the change they desired. If they refused to do whatever they were supposed to do, then they’d fall asleep forever, permanently remaining the way they were. Kinda extreme but, you know, it worked.”

Saitama couldn’t help but notice Genos lowering his head, blinking rapidly, lips falling open, a look of disbelief blatant across his face.

“Okay. Chaotically helpful goddess aside, how do we fix Genos?”

“That’s up to him,” She said, narrowing her eyes at the cyborg. “If he feels the change has happened, then all he needs to do is touch the orb again. And poof! He’s back to normal. So, that begs the question. Has it happened?”

There was a silent moment, no noise, no voices, the spotlight trained intensely on their resident cyborg.

“I don’t think so,” Genos said quietly, gaze shyly flickering up to meet Saitama’s.

That was odd.

Why was he looking…Oh. Oh.

Caped Baldy needed to teach a class on how to realize things hundreds of years too late.   

“It has!” He blurted out a tad louder than he meant to.

It startled Genos, his eyes widening to near comical levels. “…It has?”

“Yeah, it has.” He said softer, a smile coming to his lips.

“…Okay,” Tatsumaki mumbled, attention darting between the two. “Then, touch the orb, Genos.”

The cyborg hesitated, eyes finding Saitama's again. The older hero nodded, holding his hand out to him. Genos took it, positioning himself in front of the device and spreading his other hand over its smooth, black surface. For a moment, nothing happened, the orb remaining just as inert as it always had been. Then, a low hum vibrated into the air, stiffening Genos’ shoulders and drawing a short breath of air from him.

A green light brightened at Geno’s eyes, drowning out their golden, sunny hue. The glow travelled down his neck, shifting at his shoulders and moving down his outstretched arm, settling just at the base of his wrist, engulfing his hand. It disappeared into the orb’s surface, its cracks throbbing with a renewed energy, the hum growing in intensity. Genos instantly retracted his hand, backing away slightly as the orb pulsed back into normalcy.

“You should throw that away,” Saitama said, frowning at the artifact.

“I hate to say this but I have to agree with you, egghead. It’s certainly…effective but not in the right way. I might have to put it in storage,” Tatsumaki hummed.

“You okay, Genos?”

“I think so, Sensei.”

“Nice! Well thanks—”

“Nope! Don’t think that you’re getting out of this that easily. I want something in return for all of my amazing and intellectual work!” She interrupted with a sneer.

Saitama sighed, scratching his head warily. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know yet. But, know this! You, both of you, owe me. Remember that.” She said loudly, pointing between the two as she slowly hovered away with the orb, squinting at them and completing the image of Tornado of Terror perfectly.

He laughed, shaking his head as he watched her disappear around the corner. He turned back to Genos only to find the teen looking at him with the widest, starriest, most captivating eyes on the planet. He couldn’t help but run his fingers through his hair, taking his time as he reached the back, cradling his neck with his hand when he reached the end.

“So…a change did happen?” The cyborg asked in a tiny voice, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“Mmhmm,” He nodded, snaking his other arm around Genos’ waist and pulling him in, putting them chest to chest. “It just took a while. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” His disciple whispered, the sheer love and devotion in his eyes making Saitama’s heart buzz beautifully. “So long as it happened.”

Saitama grinned and kissed Genos feverishly, making the cyborg hum in approval and wrap his arms around his neck. Oh, he could get used to this. Technically, he already had. But this kiss was different. It was freer, less restrained. No curse loomed over their heads, no imminent death, no desperation. They were simply kissing just as any other couple would. Their problems, their earthly stresses didn’t matter right now. It was just them. Together.

They finally separated for air and Saitama smiled so wide that his cheeks hurt.

"You wanna go watch a movie?” He asked, tucking away a loose strand of Genos’ hair.

The cyborg nodded. “We can get some food afterwards.”

“Nice! Let’s go.”

They left the building, hand in hand, and, if Saitama snuck a few kisses along the way, then, well, he’d just blame it on old habits.