Work Text:
Gen hadn’t realized how much stuff he’s accumulated in just a few months. The space available at Ryusui’s place, where he was staying since returning from his two years of playing diplomat, has never been an issue, so he hasn’t given a second thought to what he was hoarding. Now that everything has to be moved, it's finally hitting him.
“Mentalist, how do you even have this many clothes? You wear the exact same outfit every day,” Senku complains, out of breath, as he drops in the entryway a box that’s clearly way too heavy for him.
“Most of them are clothes I bought from Taiju-chan and Yuzuriha-chan. And I'll have you know it’s not always the same outfit. I just have multiple copies of it.”
“What?!”
“Yuzuriha-chan made them for me.”
“That’s not what... Anyway. Why do I even have to carry these?”
“Because this is your house, Senku-chan. And you’re the one who desperately wanted me to live here with you.”
This still feels weird. Surreal, even. Just a few weeks ago, Gen wouldn’t have dared hope to see his belongings piled up in Senku’s living room. And yet, there they are: right beside the minimalist furniture and all the scientific equipment cluttering the space.
Senku doesn't push back, well aware that he was indeed the one who asked Gen to come live at his place.
The smile Gen feels blooming on his lips probably gives him a foolishly smitten look that would draw a wince from Senku, but he couldn’t care less.
“That was the last one,” Ryusui’s voice echoes from the doorway as he sets a small box down in the entryway. Beside him, Ukyo steps inside, followed by François.
“Thank you for your help guys,” Gen smiles. His gaze lingers on the few boxes stacked near the door. Compared to the size of the place, it isn’t actually that much, yet the thought that these are his things moving into Senku’s home makes his stomach flip in the most pleasant way possible.
From now on, this is where his own home starts.
“Of course, Gen!” Ryusui replies with his usual enthusiasm, snapping his fingers.
François bows politely behind him with considerably more restraint.
“Wanna drink something?” Senku asks from further inside, though the mask of indifference he’s wearing clearly isn't fooling anyone.
“We’d love to,” Ukyo replies politely. Ryusui is the first to take a seat on the living room sofa, and Gen follows suit, settling onto the zabuton across from him while Ukyo and François sit beside Ryusui.
Waiting for the said drinks, they let the conversation shift to the business trip Gen returned from the day before. A short six-day stay in the States that went surprisingly smoothly, or perhaps Gen was simply in too good of a mood for anything to go wrong.
Playing the rather poor host, Senku returns from the kitchen behind François, who's the one carrying a tray topped with cups, and Gen realizes he didn’t even see them vanish to go help.
The tea cup Senku sets down in front of him, their eyes meeting for just a fleeting second, contains a splash of milk exactly the way Gen likes it. The casual thoughtfulness of it is so natural that Gen feels a stupid grin spread across his face.
“By the way, Ukyo-chan, how come you’re here too, today?” he asks to occupy his thoughts as everyone settles into the living room. “Not that I mind, of course. I’m just curious.” His smile, now more mischievous than hopelessly besotted, widens further as he catches Ukyo's slight frown and realizes his friend picked up on the innuendo.
“Ryusui mentioned he was helping you move your stuff, so I figured I’d lend a hand, that’s all.”
“He dropped by my place to leave his things just as we were about to head out with François! So I offered to let him tag along!”
Judging by Ryusui’s broad, innocent smile, he has no idea what he’s just dragged Ukyo into. Ukyo, on the other hand, understands all too well.
“Hm? His things?” Gen asks playfully.
“He—”
“Ryusui, they don’t need to know...”
“Don’t we?” Senku’s voice is teasing, a smirk curling the corner of his lips, and Gen feels a wave of warmth and pride rush over him seeing Senku play along like this.
“I’m only gone for a week and you’re taking things to the next level already?” Gen adds, his smirk mirroring Senku’s.
Ukyo’s face, already tight with embarrassment, turns a bright shade of red that Gen finds particularly amusing. Beside him, Ryusui turns his head toward Ukyo, a fond and visibly proud smile on his face, though he refrains from commenting. François, true to form, remains impassive.
“I hate you both,” Ukyo sighs, raising his steaming cup of tea to his lips.
The look Gen catches in Senku’s eyes carries an endearing touch of mischief, and Gen could kiss him right then and there if they weren’t surrounded by their friends. But he has to hold back, so instead, he reaches out to grab his cup, its steam rising into the air from the coffee table.
As he’s been doing for a week now, he steals a quick glance at the ring adorning his left ring finger. Suppressing a smile is getting harder by the day, but emotional control is an art form he’s polished over the years, and one he’s mastered to perfection.
“So? When are you getting married?” Ryusui asks, having clearly followed his gaze down to the ring, seizing the opportunity to bring it up.
“Don’t know yet,” Senku answers with a nonchalance Gen knows is fake; because the matching engagement ring hanging around his neck serves as a constant reminder of everything only Gen gets to know.
“Knowing you, Senku, you’re not the type to drag things out,” Ukyo comments. “Am I wrong?”
“No point in waiting, yeah.”
Ukyo lets out a soft laugh. “So you’re going to get married before Chrome and Ruri?”
“Ukyo-chan... We’re talking about Chrome-chan and Ruri-chan here. Not that I doubt them, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were still engaged three years from now,” Gen points out, drawing a few amused chuckles from the room.
Apparently, Chrome wanted to wait until their time machine project was completed, or at least far enough along. If Gen is being honest, he’s surprised Senku didn’t want the exact same thing, though he’s certainly not complaining. Just one week after deciding to get married, Senku genuinely doesn’t seem inclined to drag his feet.
“And so?” Ryusui prompts dramatically. “Which one’s gonna change his name?”
“Ha?”
“After the wedding. Will we have Asagiri Senku or Ishigami Gen?”
Gen chooses to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks. Everything is still so new, so surreal, that hearing this kind of innuendo spoken out loud like this still flips his stomach upside down every single time.
Just two weeks ago, he was spiraling over the thought that Senku would never share his feelings. Today, he gets to admire the ring adorning his finger— one that Senku and Kaseki had rushed to forge in record time just so he could wear it on his business trip.
The question hadn’t even crossed his mind. And yet, during his week in the States, he’d spent every spare moment turning the idea of a wedding over and over in his head. Even on the flight back to Japan the day before, he was still wondering if it wasn’t all just a delusion cooked up by his utterly desperate mind.
But then Senku was right there to greet him when he landed, and it had all the hallmarks of the sweetest reality.
“Who cares about that?” Senku asks, leaning back a little despite his zabuton. “Even if civilization is making progress, we’re still a long way off from the twenty-first century. Last names and marriage name changes are probably the absolute last thing that matters here.”
He isn’t wrong. Even as the world slowly comes back to life, some formalities remain far behind them, stuck thousands of years in the past. During the two years he spent traveling the world as a diplomat, Gen became more aware of this than anyone. It’s obviously common to be addressed by family name, especially in Japan, but he’s become one of those people who prefer to go by their first name. After nearly ten years of hearing nothing but 'Gen', it feels like the natural way forward for him.
“Senku-chan’s right. Last names aren’t really important anymore, so I guess we’ll just stick to the usual?”
“I’m not even sure... Did Yuzuriha take Taiju’s name?” Ukyo asks, more thinking out loud than looking for an answer.
“She did. But everyone’s different,” Senku answers, digging a pinky into his ear.
As his arm drops back down, Gen catches him briefly curling his hand around the ring hanging around his neck; an almost unconscious reflex. He lets go immediately to anchor himself back into the conversation, but Gen is already a million miles away.
He only got back yesterday, and these are the first real moments they’ve shared together since getting engaged. He hadn’t seen him make that gesture until now. Yet, judging by how quick the movement was and how seamlessly Senku re-engaged in the conversation, it’s easy to tell it’s something he already does out of habit. A habit built in such a short window of time, and one Senku clearly tried to hide from him until his subconscious took over.
Because he and Kaseki worked relentlessly to craft Gen’s ring in a single day, just before he flew out to the United States. Senku, who was seemingly intent on having a matching one even though they weren’t wedding bands yet, only finished making his own this week. Just a few days earlier, in other words.
Gen tries not to think about how many times Senku must have touched that necklace over the past week for his body to have already memorized the motion. For someone who hates playing the romantic, he is so much softer than Gen ever would have dared to imagine.
Paying no mind to the topic being debated beside him, Gen steals a moment to look at his own ring. His mind drifts back to Xeno’s reaction, who's been the first to spot it on his ring finger while they were going over the upcoming meeting and its potential outcomes. At the time, Xeno hadn’t asked any questions, merely noting that it was extremely elegant before casting a knowing look at Stanley, who’d preferred to avert his eyes with a guilty pout.
It was Stanley himself who asked who that 'lucky person' was.
'What an inelegant question, Stan. Who else could it possibly be besides Senku?' Xeno had answered before Gen even had a chance to speak up. Even six days later, the mentalist would still rather forget how fast a suffocating heat had flushed his face.
“What’s with the cringy smile, Mentalist?”
“How ean-may! I’m just enjoying my tea.”
“You’re not even drinking it right now.”
Gen can tell that despite Senku’s squinted eyes and look of utter perplexity, he’s holding back a smile. He knows Senku so thoroughly that reading him is second nature now, and he can’t even fathom how he spent so much time failing to notice his feelings and repressing his own, convinced they would never be requited.
He’ll never be able to argue whenever Senku calls him a fraud of a mentalist ever again.
“To think that Senku, of all people, would be the next one to get married out of everyone still feels unreal,” Ukyo murmurs, his voice carrying something midway between nostalgia and fondness.
“Stop with this idea you guys have of me. Not my fault Ryusui hasn’t proposed to you.”
Cup pressed to his lips, Ukyo chokes on his tea at those words, breaking into a sudden coughing fit from the shock. Ryusui gently pats his back without adding any comment, an amused smile on his lips. François hurries over to offer him a napkin, which Ukyo uses to wipe his mouth, and hide his face in the process. He murmurs his thanks before clearing his throat.
“Don’t die before I’ve done it, Ukyo,” Ryusui comments with amusement, earning nothing more than an eye-roll from Ukyo. Ignoring him, Ukyo turns to Senku instead:
“I didn’t mean to touch a nerve,” he sighs, a hint of humor lacing his voice once he’s fully gathered his composure.
Considering they only became something kind of official a week or two ago, it’s obviously no surprise that Ryusui hasn’t proposed to him. And Senku knows it too, yet this kind of almost desperate self-defense is usually way beneath him.
“Senku-chan, don’t be too harsh on Ukyo-chan. He’s kinda realistic here, y’know.”
What’s weirder is the perception Senku seems to have of himself, so far from how he actually comes across. But if Gen is ever going to ask him about it, he wants it to be when it’s just the two of them— or maybe there’s no point in asking and, instead, he should just kiss him.
At the sight of Ukyo’s miffed pout, the conversation eventually drifts to Senku’s work and how Gen’s trip tied into it. Late afternoon is already well underway when the three of them finally leave the scientist’s house, leaving it in a silence Gen finds wonderfully cozy and soothing.
Senku eventually picks up a book and starts annotating it from the sofa, while Gen insists on washing the cups they used, making up for not having helped prepare them. The moment feels so domestic that he finds himself wondering all over again if he isn’t just dreaming. As he’s been doing for a week now, he traces his thumb over the ring on his left ring finger to remind himself that this is very much real.
When he returns to the living room, his boxes are still cluttering the floor, but he has no desire to deal with them right now. Instead, he settles down beside Senku, who raises his book slightly without turning his head toward him.
Gen remains silent for a moment. If he didn’t know him inside out, he probably would have missed the silent invitation hidden in the gesture. Without holding back a broad smile, he shifts to lay his head on Senku’s lap. Senku naturally lowers his book to immerse himself back into his work, which Gen doesn’t know the first thing about.
“You’re kinda clingy, Senku-chan. And cute.”
“Shut up.”
“When I think that you asked me not once, not twice, but three times to come live with you... You really love me that much, huh.” His tone is teasing, and when he looks up to catch Senku’s reaction, he meets the intensity of his red eyes, shining with a myriad of emotions he never thought he’d see there one day.
“Don’t play with me, you fraud mentalist. Don’t forget you thought I wanted to marry Kohaku. So yeah, I had to be direct.”
Gen winces, but doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he turns onto his back so he can take him in completely, noticing as he does that Senku has set his book on the arm of the sofa, face down so as not to lose his page. It’s subtle, but his way of showing that Gen has his undivided attention is still brand new, and Gen isn’t entirely used to it yet. He feels warmth rush to his face. With a still-timid gesture, he lifts his right hand to gently brush the ring hanging around his fiancé’s neck.
His fiancé.
His fiancé.
“Did I tell you that Xeno-chan wasn’t surprised about the marriage?”
“Ha? Why’s that?”
“No idea. When he saw the ring, he just assumed it couldn’t be anyone but you... I wonder if I was really that transparent.”
Senku lets out a scoffing huff but doesn’t answer, which is probably for the best, before placing a hand back on his book to pick it up again.
“And also... When I was in the States, I saw Luna-chan,” Gen continues, though this time he isn’t quite sure what tone to take. “She was doing well. Well... She congratulated me when she saw the ring, and naturally, she asked who it was. I had to tell her the truth. Wouldn’t be fair of me to lie.”
Senku’s grip on his book slacks, and he lets go of it once more. Gen watches him, an unacknowledged impatience causing his heartbeat to quicken slightly.
“I see,” Senku replies softly, and Gen can tell he’s genuinely taking the time to process it.
Because even if he was never interested in her, Senku has always respected her feelings— in his own way. Gen still remembers the day the Americans departed for home after Taiju and Yuzuriha’s wedding: she was crying, trying hard to put on a brave face despite everything, and Senku had simply encouraged her, motivating her to stick with her medical studies.
“She would’ve found out sooner or later anyway. Lying was completely pointless.”
“I know! But I would’ve loved not being front row for it! I felt so bad for her I almost ended up feeling guilty, you know!”
Senku deadpans and pinches Gen’s cheeks together with one hand. “Stupid,” he sighs. “Don’t start with that nonsense.”
Seeing Senku’s fond, unimpressed scowl, Gen has to stop himself from pointing out that he wouldn’t trade places with anyone no matter what. But that’s still a bit too romantic, even for him.
“I just hope she’ll find someone better than me,” Senku says, his voice surprisingly soft.
“I think you’re pretty good.”
“Wait until I blow up the house in the middle of the night.”
“Please don’t, Senku-chan.”
They both let out a soft chuckle, and Senku releases his grip on Gen’s cheeks. Gen instantly misses the warmth of his hand.
“I’ve been wondering, Senku-chan... Did you ever break up with Luna-chan?”
“What?”
“Back then... When she saved your life, you agreed to go out with her, right?”
“Oh, that. She dumped me.”
“She... What?!”
“I don’t really remember, that was years ago. I think she wanted me to date her because I actually liked her, not just because it was a condition to save my life. Or something like that.”
Gen had no idea, but even for someone desperately in love like Luna, it made sense. He probably should have picked up on the moment she stopped following Senku around claiming to be his girlfriend. Guess he really was a fraud of a mentalist when it came to his feelings for Senku, after all.
But none of that matters anymore. So he settles for silently wishing, just like Senku, that Luna finds someone she truly deserves and ends up happy; exactly as happy as he is right now.
With his mind finally at ease, Gen closes his eyes for a moment. Exhaustion is slowly catching up with him: even though he only spent a week in the States, his body had already started getting used to this timezone. Late afternoon here in Japan would usually be the start of his night over there. Even though he knows he should probably use the next hour to unpack his things, the idea of a nap on the sofa is far more enticing— he might dare hope to take it right here on Senku’s lap, but asking him to stay still for that long would surely be pushing it.
“Aren’t you going to the lab?” Gen asks, opening his eyes again. “I know you took the day off for my move, but I don’t think you’re the type of person to take an actual full day off.”
Senku lets his usual smirk curl onto his lips. “Ten billion points for you, Mentalist. I’m not. But I’ll be working from here today, no need to go over there.”
Of course. That’s just who Senku is. Maybe Gen wouldn’t love him this much if he were any different.
“You should get some sleep, though. Your body’s already starting to adjust to US time. It’s night over there. Aren’t you tired?”
“A bit, if I’m honest.”
“Then sleep. I’ll wake you up once I’m done with what I still need to do.”
Even though he would have loved to fall asleep right as they were, Gen agrees to lift his head to let Senku get up when he asks him to. Still, he finds it endearing to watch Senku slide a cushion in his place. He hears him walk away, but drifts off the exact second the sound of the lab door closing reaches his ears.
The phone ringing from the living room yanks Gen out of a sleep so deep that he flinches and turns, nearly tumbling off the sofa in the process. He immediately recognizes it as Senku’s phone, spotted on the table, and sits up to grab it.
Even though they’ve made tremendous progress over the two years since Why-man stopped being a threat, technology hasn’t advanced enough to give them back the state-of-the-art smartphones they had before the petrification. But Senku’s current one is already a huge leap forward, allowing Gen to see that the call is coming from the lab, even if the specific caller isn't identified.
“Senku-chan?” he calls out, but there’s no answer.
By the time he'd go upstairs to hand him the phone, the call would already be over. It might not be crucial, but it could still be important.
Gen swipes his finger across the screen to answer before bringing the phone to his ear.
“...Ishigami speaking,” he says as he picks up, feeling heat immediately rush to his face at his own words.
He doesn’t even really know why he chose to phrase it like that.
“Doctor Senku?” the voice on the other end asks, sounding visibly baffled at not recognizing him.
“No, Senku isn’t—”
“Wait, did I call the wrong number? No, you said Ishigami speaking, so...”
It’s distant, but Gen thinks he recognizes the caller. Even if he can’t put a face to it, he’s sure he’s heard that voice before, during his many visits to the laboratory where Senku works since returning from his two years abroad.
He swallows hard.
“This is Ishigami Gen.” The words weigh heavy on his tongue, and somehow he likes them so much he feels like he could repeat them again and again. “Senku’s working upstairs, but I can go and check if he—”
Turning around toward the hallway, Gen freezes when he spots Senku standing there. The slightly foolish grin he’d been holding onto despite himself instantly collapses at the stunned expression plastered across the scientist’s face.
“Senk—” Gen begins, the phone still pressed to his ear, but cuts himself off mid-sentence when Senku gestures for him to be quiet, then to hang up.
“What?” Gen mouthes silently.
“Hang up!” Senku responds, mimicking him.
Gen can’t tell whether Senku is angry or not, and if he is, whether it’s at him or at the person calling him on his supposed day off. Pulling himself together anyway, he politely informs the caller that he’ll have Senku call him back, then hangs up. Before he even has time to place the phone back on the table, Senku has already crossed the living room to stand right in front of him, snatching it away with a swift movement and tossing it onto the sofa.
“Senku-cha—”
The name dies in his throat as Senku grabs the lapels of his haori with both hands near his collarbones, yanking him close. Their lips crash together with an almost desperate force that leaves Gen feeling as though the ground might give way beneath his feet.
Senku pulls back, just barely enough to part their mouths and trigger an instant sense of craving, before diving back in to capture his lips once more. He doesn’t let go of Gen’s clothes, fiercely determined to keep him pinned as close as possible— as if Gen had any desire to pull away. If anything, he responds with a fervor bordering on eagerness, wrapping his arms around Senku’s neck. Even though this is all still brand new, Gen finds his entire body respond with a familiarity that feels as though it were forged over years.
The warm kisses Senku gives him are impatient, panting, and as their breathing mingles in the middle of the living room, Gen is overcome by a sense of domestic intimacy he might never be able to live without again. He lets his hands slide up the back of Senku’s neck, savoring the shudder that ripples under his fingertips, using the hold to draw him even closer.
It’s almost reluctantly that Gen finally tilts his head back, just enough to speak.
“Not that I’m complaining, clearly, but what’s that for?”
“That’s your fault,” Senku murmurs against his lips before pressing his mouth to his once more. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, well aware that Gen can no longer talk with his tongue tangled up in the kiss.
Gen never would have dared to hope for this kind of reaction from Senku, but in a way, it’s even better than anything he could have imagined.
They’re both out of breath when they finally agree to break apart, and the warm breath brushing against his face almost sends Gen sliding back in. Instead, he settles for resting his forehead against Senku’s, the gesture highlighting their slight height difference.
“Can I assume you liked the Ishigami Gen?”
“You did it on purpose?” Senku asks, and there’s no real reproach in his voice, just genuine curiosity.
“Surprisingly, no. I didn’t know you were there. I think... I just wanted to hear how it sounded.”
Only now does Senku finally let go of the haori he was still clutching, moving his hands down to rest on Gen’s hips. The warmth of his palms radiates through the fabric, and Gen realizes he could melt under the touch.
“Forget what I said to Ryusui,” Senku says, his voice delicate, almost tinged with shyness, yet spoken with that directness so characteristic of him.
“You mean the part where you said that last names and marriage name changes were probably the absolute last thing that matters?"
“Mentalist.”
He’s so cute Gen can’t help but wonder if this is what Heaven will looks like— far from the Hell they promised each other.
“What if I want to keep my name? I actually kinda like it. It was also my stage name.”
“Then I’d be fine with it. Don’t make it such a big deal, and don’t make me out to be the desperate one.”
“Aw, it’s just... that reaction was cute. Will I get this every time I bring it up?”
“Nah, I’ll get used to it. Might already be.”
“Ean-may!”
Senku smiles. Only now does Gen realize he smells like lab chemicals, and he’d rather not think about what he was up to upstairs while he was napping, or even how he mentioned earlier that he might blow up the house in the middle of the night. He knows him now, and he’s learned to live with that for years.
Gen leans in slowly, closing the already meager inches between their faces to softly press his lips against Senku’s in a quick kiss. He pulls back immediately, but stays close enough that Senku’s hands can still burn against his hips.
“I don’t really care about all that anyway. It’s true that Asagiri Gen was the name I was known by back in the modern world. I could still be famous if we keep reviving the rest of Japan.”
“Then—”
“But I like yours too. So much that I wouldn't mind wearing it.”
Senku’s hands slide down his back, settling right at the base of his spine, and every inch of skin they brush against makes Gen regret the layers of fabric he has on.
“Oh, you weren’t kidding, you really are the romantic type,” Senku says in a mocking yet fond tone.
“I thought you already knew?” Gen answers teasingly. His hands, still buried in Senku’s hair, begin tracing gentle caresses against his scalp.
“Kinda did. But are you sure about that?”
“Yeah. You know, it’s no big deal. What we said earlier was true. Last names still aren’t as important as they used to be. And saying it out loud earlier made me realize that I liked Ishigami Gen more than I thought I would.”
The pressure against the small of his back tightens. It’s so subtle he could almost convince himself he imagined it, but the slight shift in Senku’s expression says it all.
“But I don’t want to be the one telling Ryusui-chan I changed my mind. Especially since I know he’ll ask why, and I can’t exactly tell him that you suddenly came to make out just because hearing it turned you on.”
The smirk that appears on Senku’s lips is the logical reaction to his provocation; a mix of mild frustration and subtle embarrassment at how blatantly Gen phrases it, though Senku only lets it show for a short second.
“Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself, Mentalist.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Shut up.” One of his hands slides back up Gen’s spine, and Gen feels warmth rush to his face at the shudder he fails to repress in time; one that definitely didn’t go unnoticed, considering Senku's smile.
“We’re gonna need to actually get married first if you want me to use your name that bad, Senku-chan.”
“Don’t go doubting my efficiency, Mentalist.”
A smile tugs at Gen’s lips. "I could never," he says as he frees one hand from the nape of Senku’s neck to gently catch the ring hanging against the scientist’s collarbone, a constant reminder of everything they’ve been through to get to this point. With tender care, he lifts it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it, feeling Senku’s gaze tracking his every move.
“By the way, Senku-chan,” Gen starts as he lets go of the necklace, letting it rest gently against the scientist’s chest once more. “Did you know you’re a terrible liar? You’re not already used to it at all.”
Senku deadpans. “I feel like you’re enjoying this a bit too much.”
Even if it sounds like a complaint, Gen knows it’s anything but. He leans in until his lips brush the scientist’s ear, controlling every inflection in his voice as he whispers:
“Do you want me to keep saying it until you are?”
“You know what? That could work.”