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As a natural liar, Gen was quite good at identifying when others weren’t being honest. His ability to read people had only sharpened with experience and he was quite proud of how he could dissect a person’s micro expressions, tone shifts, and the dozens of other tiny tells that they had no idea they were broadcasting.
The one thing that made it difficult was when the person in question believed one hundred percent in the lie they were telling. If someone was convinced what they were saying was the truth, none of the usual hints did any good. Everything contradicted in the most confusing way and effectively jammed Gen’s sensors with too much information.
Which was what made Senku such a problem.
The other man would lean close to him, voice low and sharp and excited, eyes bright in a way that made Gen’s stomach do flips. He’d toss Gen a crooked grin when one of Gen’s schemes succeeded or say something like “That’s my mentalist” in his infuriatingly casually fond way. Sometimes he would absently reach out without looking, just knowing instinctively where Gen was in proximity to him, to keep him from wandering off, resting a hand on his shoulder when he was thinking and drumming his fingers in such a way that it ruffled the hair behind Gen’s ear.
Things that, for the briefest of moments, made Gen think there might have been something there.
And then he’d open his mouth.
“Ugh, this is why romance is a colossal waste of time,” he’d sneer when Chrome was easily distracted by Ruri’s presence.
“I’m not interested in any of that,” he’d scoff, lip curled in distaste when one of the village girls expressed even the slightest hint of romantic inclination towards him.
“If people spent more time thinking with their brains and not their dicks we’d have civilization up and running in no time,” he’d bemoan when the gaggles of men working on constructing the Perseus would get distracted by a pretty face walking by.
Every time Gen laughed it off, spinning it into a joke and reminding himself that he was misreading things.
Senku was just an awkward young man with little care or interest in social niceties or things like decorum and personal space. Blunt, single-minded, and married to science - if Gen read into things that was on him.
Gen knew that and accepted it. Mostly.
So by the time one of the village’s regular celebrations came - a raucous evening of food, drink, and music - Gen had firmly and responsibly filed Whatever this is with Senku into a mental folder labeled Absolutely Never Gonna Happen.
Which was what made drunken Senku particularly unfair.
Senku wasn’t usually one to imbibe, but Kaseki had proudly presented a new brew he’d made with Francois’ assistance and Senku had been bullied into trying it.
Gen had taken a sip out of courtesy earlier in the evening and had found the mead to be sweet and somewhat fruity, going down rather smooth, which explained how Senku had managed to drain two glasses in fairly rapid succession.
He was on his third before Gen realized what was happening and hurried over in an attempt to intervene.
“Heyyy, Mentalist, you tried this yet?” Senku grinned, expression a little lopsided and eyes blinking slowly as if trying to refocus his vision, raising his glass for another sip.
If the flush to Senku’s cheeks hadn’t flagged his sprint into inebriation, the way he swayed on his feet certainly would, and Gen wasn’t too surprised. With his slight build and lack of experience drinking it was no wonder that he was a lightweight - and knowing Senku he’d probably skipped lunch that day making the alcohol hit not only even faster, but certainly even harder.
As the sip became several gulps, Gen stepped forward to take hold of his sleeve in an attempt to steady him. “Alright, Senku-chan, let’s sit down before you fall down.”
“What? I’m not even-!” Senku cut himself off as he tripped over nothing, held up by Gen’s grip on him. “Yeah, okay.”
Gen led Senku to a bench slightly out of the way, close enough to enjoy the heat of the bonfire and the levity of the celebration but far enough that most wouldn’t come by to bother their inebriated chief.
And thankfully so, as it didn’t take long for the touching to start.
At first it was small, Senku leaning against Gen’s side, arm draped around him like it belonged there. The scientist hummed absently, head knocking against Gen’s gently as he swayed in place - ostensibly to the music, but Gen suspected his compromised equilibrium was doing most of the movement.
“You’re being ather-ray affectionate this evening, Senku-chan,” he teased, shifting slightly to bear Senku’s weight more comfortably. “Should I be concerned?”
“Nope,” Senku replied immediately, head pressing against Gen’s temple insistently for a moment, rubbing back and forth in a strange facsimile of a nuzzle, “You’re comfortable.”
Gen laughed, able to feel heat rising to his cheeks, “I am, am I? Maybe tell Kohaku-chan that next time she calls me a scrawny skeleton man.”
The drums kicked up, more villagers moving to the center to dance, and Gen watched them wistfully. There were a few couples moving together, smiles wide and beaming, eyes shining as they looked at one another, and he couldn’t help but feel just a little jealous.
It took him a moment to realize that Senku was mumbling next to him, his voice quiet below the music.
“What was that, Senku-chan?”
“Who cares if you’re skinny I think you’re hot,” Senku repeated. “Your face is pretty and you’re way smarter than people think even if you try to make sure they don’t know that. It’s insane watching you trick people, makes my stomach do weird things like when you laugh.”
Gen choked, freezing in place as Senku continued to ramble. The other man pulled back enough to poke him accusingly in the chest, flushed face curved with annoyance as he glared up at him with hazy eyes.
“But you never trick me ‘cause you’re honest when it matters. Which is annoying. Cause then it makes me think about you when you’re not around and it’s distracting.”
The sounds of the festivities had faded into white noise, Gen staring back at Senku as blood rushed to his face. His heart raced in his chest as Senku leaned closer, the sweet scent of berries on his breath and the warmth of his body hotter than the nearby bonfire.
“Fuck your eyes are so fucking pretty it’s not fair,” he grumbled accusingly. “You know I like you, right? More than I should which is so annoying because when you’re not around I get all distracted and can’t work as fast. Yuzuriha says you have to know because I’m apparently being obvious about it but I’m not sure if I are. …Am. You are. ...Is?”
At that point Gen was sure everyone in the village could hear his heart pounding even over the sounds of the music. “Senku-chan, you’re drunk.”
“Yep,” Senku agreed, popping the ‘p’ and swaying slightly in place. “It’s why I’m telling you the truth.”
Gen felt something break open inside his chest, sharp and fluttering. He swallowed, forcing a smile because that was what he did in situations like this. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow.”
Senku frowned, brows knitting in confusion. It was the look he got on his face when someone said something completely unexpected or when he was presented with a problem he hadn’t had the foresight to plan for. Shaking his head slowly, his arm tightened around Gen like the idea offended him.
“Nah, I regret not sayin’ stuff. It’s dumb but I always get all embarrassed and stupid when I try. Used to shit on the big oaf all the time for not just tellin’ Yuzuriha that he liked her but I get it now,” his forehead dropped to Gen’s shoulder, voice softening somewhat. “Prolly owe him an apology…”
Gen exhaled shakily, gently - so gently - resting his cheek against the top of Senku’s head for the briefest of moments. His hair wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t nearly as rough as people expected - and Gen took the opportunity to breathe in the familiar scent of Senku’s bathing supplies and the odd mix of chemical smells that always clung to him.
He closed his eyes for a moment, just long enough to confirm that he wasn’t imagining things.
Senku’s body slowly went limp, breath evening as he passed out slumped against Gen’s side.
Gen stayed very still. He wasn’t afraid that Senku would wake up, the man was drunk enough that he’d probably manage to sleep through even Magma’s obnoxious shouting.
What he was afraid of was that if he were to move even an inch, whatever fragile, glowing thing had settled in his chest just then would spook and vanish. Senku’s weight was warm and solid against his side, arm slack around his waist, fingers curled loosely in the fabric of his haori like they’d closed there by instinct.
Drunk confessions were the worst, everyone knew that. Alcohol loosened tongues, blurred lines, turned fleeting thoughts into statements that felt enormous and groundbreaking in the moment and humiliating by morning. Gen had spent much of his television career exploiting the fact.
Yet Senku’s tells were all wrong for a lie.
Even then, passed out and slack, his body angled towards Gen’s instead of away. His brows were faintly drawn together, like his mind was still working through something important, but there was no tension in him. No flinch of retraction or subconscious signs of backpedaling that Gen had learned to spot from a mile away.
If anything, Senku looked settled. Lighter, as if some great weight had finally been lifted.
Gen knew that the responsible thing would have been to flag someone down to help him return Senku to the observatory and put him to bed. And yet, instead of doing so he let a traitorous arm slip fully around Senku’s back and a palm stroke gently up and down his side.
Senku shifted, snuggling closer. In sleep he always looked younger, less sharp-edged, vulnerable in a way he never allowed himself to be while awake.
Gen didn’t move, staying where they were until the hour grew late and the fire began to grow low. Eventually, as the evening chill began to creep in and villagers began to disperse, he flagged Kohaku down.
Any other time he would have laughed at the way she tossed Senku’s limp form over her shoulder like a sack of flour to bring him back to the observatory. This time, though, he knew what waited for him when the sun rose.
He knew that when Senku woke up the next morning he’d be mortified. Distant, rational, closed off - blame it on the alcohol. Gen, professional and practiced, would laugh it off and play along. He had filed it under Absolutely Never Gonna Happen for a reason, after all.
But for a few hours at least, he’d been able to pretend that he wasn’t imagining things.
—-
Senku woke with a splitting headache, a dry mouth, and the crushing realization that he remembered everything from the night before.
Kaseki’s wheedling and badgering to try his mead, the sweet drink going down like candy, the way his thoughts had begun to fuzz around the edges.
The way he’d let Gen lead him away, how he’d leaned in so close - closer than he’d ever let himself before - and said things he’d never managed to choke out when he was sober. Things that he struggled to admit to himself in the privacy of his own mind half the time, let alone voice aloud.
Senku groaned, pressing his face into his hands, wincing at the way it made his temples pound.
There was no pretending it hadn’t happened, it would have been stupid and illogical to even try. Cowardly.
It was still deeply embarrassing and super cringey, though.
Especially so when, after managing to crawl his hungover ass out of bed and re-hydrate enough to not consider splitting his skull open to take out his brain, he noticed that Gen was avoiding him. Not obviously. Not in a way that anyone else would’ve noticed.
On any other day Gen would have been right there teasing him relentlessly about his inability to handle his liquor while also hovering over him like a mother hen to make sure he ate and drank and didn’t over exert himself.
But as the day continued, Gen barely said a word to him. He wasn’t hiding or turning tail to run when he caught sight of Senku, but he was keeping his distance. A careful distance, the kind someone kept after learning a lesson the hard way.
It pissed Senku off.
By late afternoon Senku had enough. His headache was nearly gone, the accompanying nausea dealt with, the stench of revelry and a morning of vomiting scrubbed away at the hot springs, and he cornered Gen in one of the storage huts where the mentalist had gone under the pretense of needing something or another.
“Someone’s looking a tad under the eather-way. Who knew you were such a light-“
“I remember what I said last night.”
Gen stopped, teeth clicking almost audibly as his mouth shut. After a moment he swallowed, the smile on his face tight and brittle. “Ah. In that case, let me preemptively reassure you that drunken ramblings are a sacred, judgement-free-“
“I meant it.”
Senku felt his ears heating up, stomach twisting for a completely different reason than his hangover as Gen stared at him, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.
“All of it. The liking you and the thinking about you. Being distracted. Alcohol didn’t invent that, it just shut off the part of my brain that wouldn’t let me say it.”
He reached a hand up, ruffling the hair at the back of his head absently.
“I always figured romance was this inefficient thing that had too much risk and not enough pay off. Zero predictability, too many variables - the definition of a failed experiment waiting to happen - but that was stupid of me,”
Gen laughed, but it was short and lacked humor, disbelieving. “Senku-chan, you don’t have to do this just because you… said some things last night. Things you didn’t mean to-“
“I didn’t mean to say them,” he agreed firmly. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t mean them.” He gestured vaguely between the two of them, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “Trying to ignore it wasn’t working and pretending it wasn’t happening didn’t make the feelings go away… so I’m done pretending.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and fragile, heavy. Gen stared at him, eyes darting around as if trying to peel back layers, find some sort of hint or sign to see where the trick was hiding.
Gen made a sound of aggravation, hands scrubbing over his face and into his hair, shoulders slumping with a shaky breath. “Do you know how impossible you are?”
It was Senku’s turn to look confused, blinking slowly as his brow knit up. “Huh?”
“I avoid believing in things that can hurt me,” Gen replied, voice stripped down to something bare and honest, tired. “If I convince myself I’m imagining things, I don’t have to deal with the fallout when it disappears. But you-“
Senku barely resisted taking a step back when Gen pointed an accusing finger at him.
“You are so bad at lying, do you know that? Even to yourself. You say romance is a waste of time but you hold onto people without even thinking about it. You say and do things… you probably don’t even realize you’re doing it! Like when you get jealous because someone is talking to me only to do absolutely nothing afterwards. Do you know how confusing that is?”
Senku’s mouth opened and closed uselessly a few times. “…sorry?”
Gen’s expression hardened and he took a step forward. It wasn’t dramatic, he didn’t grab or gesture, just moved closer. Close enough that Senku could feel his body heat like the night before, see his reflection in shining blue eyes.
“Last night,” he practically growled, “I let myself believe you meant it. Just for a second, just long enough that I had to remind myself of what was going to happen today. That you’d wake up and take it all back.”
“But I’m not taking it back?” Senku wasn’t sure if he was more confused or concerned at that point, heart kicking in his chest like a startled rabbit.
Gen stared him down, searching his face once more as if he might finally find the tells he’d been looking for. Confirmation that his fears were substantiated.
Senku hoped whatever he was showing was proving the opposite. He was viscerally aware of his own breathing, the smallest twitch of his fingers, worried that some faint move or shift would be misread.
He was also viscerally aware of how Gen’s gaze lingered on his mouth for half a second longer than usual before snapping back up, as if he was annoyed with himself for the slip.
Gen ran a hand through his hair, pushing his forelock back with a huff. “Do you know how often I told myself I was imagining things? Talked myself out of it, that you were just… like that,” he gestured vaguely at Senku as if it explained what he meant. “That if I leaned into it I had nobody but myself to blame when it blew up in my face. If you’d panicked and tried to logic yourself out of it this morning I could’ve handled it, but instead you’re standing there acting like this isn’t a big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” Senku replied, stepping forward before he could overthink it. “It’s just not… complicated for me. I trust you and notice when you’re not around and spend way too much time thinking about kissing you along with… other stuff I’m too sober to say without dying of embarrassment.”
Gen froze, muscles locking and breath stalling halfway in his chest as Senku’s words landed and detonated. For someone who prided himself on reading people and ferreting out the hidden meaning behind things, he was woefully unprepared to handle something so devastatingly, unfairly direct.
“Kissing me,” he echoed faintly, his brain deciding that was the only survivable fragment to process from Senku’s short ramble.
Senku winced, ears turning scarlet and cheeks beginning to flush, “This is why I don’t say this shit sober…”
A hysterical laugh bubbled out of Gen before he could stop it. He pressed his fingers to his lips as if it would contain it, shoulders trembling, “You can’t just… god, you refuse to give me an exit.”
“I’m not trying to trap you,” Senku muttered, just shy of petulant, face red and mouth curved into what most would consider a pout but Gen was sure Senku would describe as a scowl.
“I know… that’s the problem.”
Gen reached forward, finger tips brushing the back of Senku’s hand and jerking the scientist’s attention back to him. Despite his embarrassment, Senku’s gaze was firm, focused - though Gen did see the way it flickered down to his mouth and back up again and it made something in his chest soften dangerously.
“Nearly twenty years of building walls and you manage to knock your way through them just by existing honestly in my general vicinity.”
The air between them felt charged, like the pause before a spark. Gen was acutely aware of just how easy it would have been to tip forward, how small the distance between them was, and how terrifying it was to want to.
Senku, of course, was brave for the both of them.
“So… can I kiss you or are we still in the ‘spiral internally and pretend this isn’t happening’ phase?”
Gen laughed, soft and breathy and helpless, reaching up to curl his fingers in the front of Senku’s coat like he needed the anchor. “You are the absolute orst-way,”
His tone held no bite, warm and fond, and Senku clicked his tongue in response. “That’s not an answer.”
Leaning in the rest of the way, Gen brushed their noses together, appreciating the way he could feel Senku’s breath catch, the surprised puff of air against his lips.
“I’m done pretending if you are.”
It was all the permission Senku needed.
The kiss started tentative, awkward in the way that came from thinking too much and not enough all at once. Senku hesitated, like he was waiting for Gen to push him away or disappear, and Gen hummed softly against his mouth, tilting his head and deepening it just enough to reassure him it was real. The reassurance did its job and Senku’s hands came up, one settling on the small of Gen’s back and the other fisting lightly in his haori, the kiss growing surer and more confident. When Gen felt Senku’s tongue brush against his lower lip he swore his head spun, his carefully maintained composure crumbling completely.
“Ow,” Senku grunted, Gen blinking in confusion before realizing that not only had one of his hands found its way into Senku’s hair but had begun to pull. Not that Senku seemed particularly bothered, diving back in as if breathing was merely a suggestion or an obstacle in the way of getting to kiss Gen more.
The next time they pulled away for air, a giggle bubbled out of Gen as Senku’s attention transferred to his neck. “Not that I’m complaining but most people ease into these things, not go straight for hickies day one,”
“I tried easing,” Senku grunted, teeth scraping over the skin behind Gen’s ear. “Didn’t work. You’re distracting.”
“I’m distracting?” Gen teased weakly, trying valiantly to not let his knees buckle underneath him as Senku found a particularly sensitive spot and sent shivers down his spine.
Senku’s mouth returned to Gen’s, less aggressive but no less firm, “For what it’s worth,” he muttered, lips brushing against Gen’s with every word, “I have no idea what I’m doing I just know I don’t want to stop,”
Gen smiled into the kiss, chest aching in a pleasantly fond way, “That’s ainfully-pay obvious,” he murmured breathlessly as he slid a hand up Senku’s arm, thumb pressing lightly just under his sleeve where he knew the other man was somewhat ticklish. "But fine with me."
Huffing a laugh, Senku rested his forehead against Gen’s, still catching his breath and trying to steady his racing pulse, “Good, cause stopping sounds… really bad.”
Gen’s teasing instinct reared its head, “So eloquent, my dear.”
“Shut up, you know what I mean.” Senku gruffed, easing back just enough to really look at him.
Gen met his gaze without deflecting it that time. Up close, without the smirk or the practiced tilt of charm, Senku looked… earnest. Like someone who had taken a leap and was bracing for impact, stubbornly refusing to look away even if it hurt.
It made Gen’s chest ache.
“I do,” he agreed. “It’s actually kind of refreshing… you’re terrible at romance in theory, but shockingly competent in practice. Very on-brand for you.”
A corner of Senku’s mouth twitched despite himself, “Not sure if that’s a compliment.”
“Oh, it definitely is,” Gen replied softly. “You’ve never been one for overthinking the important parts, you just… decide you’re doing something and then do it. It’s terrifying and kind of incredible.”
Senku snorted, but his thumb brushed absently over the small of Gen’s back like he’d forgotten to let go. “I overthink plenty,” he muttered, ears reddening, “just not when I’m sure about something.”
“So you’re sure about me, then?” Gen cooed, faltering slightly when Senku grunted in response, hand sliding higher up his back like he was testing whether he could get away with pulling him closer again.
Despite the flush creeping up his neck, Senku’s expression was firm. The stubborn certainty Gen had originally admired and had grown to love - the one that had dragged humanity out of the stone and toward the stars - was fixed squarely on him.
It was terrifying.
It was everything.
Without thinking, Gen found himself leaning in, the warmth of Senku’s breath ghosting over his lips just before they connected again. For once he didn’t try to read between the lines, didn’t doubt what he was hearing, letting himself fall into the unknown and trusting he’d be caught.
“Ten billion percent.”