“My backpack?” Genos brought it down and started opening it. “Right, I suppose since we are now living together, it will help you to know about my personal possessions…”

For 45 minutes, Genos began to unpack, meticulously describing each item– from his various spare arms, to his clothing, repair kits, and special brush for his synthetic hair.

“…Other than these items, I don’t need to carry very many things,” he explained to Saitama, removing a telescope from his bag.

For forty-five minutes, Saitama listens, almost wishing he hadn’t asked. He had asked, though, and he’d known how...verbose Genos is when he’d done it. So, this is kind of my own fault. By the time his disciple has gotten to the telescope, Saitama has eaten all of his ice cream and is left chewing on the wooden popsicle stick. 

“Alright,” he says, frowning at the stick and dropping it on top of the napkin on the table. But, he decides, he doesn’t want to just make a mess, especially considering Genos would probably jump at the chance to clean up after him. (Weird.) So he stands and gathers up his trash, stepping carefully over Genos’s scattered possessions and into the kitchen where he throws it away. Looking out through the kitchen window, he asks, “Have you had dinner yet?” He’d eaten since they’d parted at the bridge, but it seems like Genos had spent that time packing. 

He turns to the fridge before Genos can answer and peers inside. I’ll have to get some more groceries, he thinks, eyes scanning the mostly empty space. “I could make you...something.” 

Containing his relief and overall happiness that sensei has allowed him to stay after all, Genos nods briefly before setting down his comically oversized bag with a soft thud.

Then noticing the melting of the sweet he’s eating, Genos quickly grabs a napkin for Saitama from the kitchen, handing it to him before kneeling down.

“I promise to be as quiet as possible, and complete all household hold duties, Saitama-sensei.”

He’s quiet as he reaches for the napkin. He’s still not fully convinced he made the right decision. How wide is this room? He passes the ice cream to his other hand, wiping what had melted off his fingers. And as he takes a bite, he looks around the room. Probably not even fifteen feet. But his eyes return to Genos as he swallows and he says, “Ah, okay.”

He doesn’t really know where to go from here. He has a roommate. I have a roommate. Genos. Genos is my roommate. … Weird.

Another bite and his eyes roam from his roommate (Weird.) to the enormous bag on the floor behind him. Nodding toward it, “What do you have in there?” Clothes and shoes, presumably. Toiletries. Maybe a repair kit? But how much space would that take up? What else is in there? Is it rude to ask? Is it really his business? They’re…roommates, now, but… But it’s relevant, right? It’ll be in my house.

"Will you kiss me at midnight?"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

"Got any champagne?"

"I'm got doing the ball drop this year."

"I'd rather be home than freezing outside."

"I really don't get the big deal."

"Here's hoping the new year is better than the last."

"New year, new me."

"Let's go out to celebrate."

"Want to go to a party?"

"This is the perfect way to ring in the new year."

"To health, happiness and good days."

"I don't drink, but thank you anyway."

"I don't feel well..."

"Did you just kiss me?"

"I don't care if it IS tradition, I'm not eating that."

"It really is nice out tonight."

"The stars are prettier than the fireworks."

"We don't have to go to a big party place. Maybe a restaurant?"

"Let's ring in the new year right."

"Are you drunk?"

"Can we go home?"

"Just you, me and a couple of silly hats. What do you say?"

"Hold my hand."

"I just want to go to bed early tonight. Does that make me old?"

"I think I drank too much."

"Let's get a cab."

"I'm not wearing those."

"You look silly."

Dejection automatically washes over the cyborg’s face. He expected such an answer, but hoped to be pleasantly surprised.

As that doesn’t happen, he instead resorts to his persuasion-technique.

Throughout his time with Saitama-sensei thus far, Genos has taken note that his frugality isn’t simply a sense of fiscal responsibility, but a necessity. Noticing this, Genos has absolutely no qualms with helping Saitama financially– no matter what, but he realised that money is a powerful tool, and perhaps Saitama doesn’t need to know that Genos would be more than willing to offer the sum of money in his pocket for no exchange whatsoever.

Said money is plopped upon the short table, a large wad, clearly an overcompensation for a few month’s rent, but undeniably solid proof that Genos means business.

“I will pay rent.”

His eyes are hopeful as his fingers gently curl around the straps of his backpack.

As the stack of bills lands on the table with a solid thump, Saitama’s eyes go wide. What? And they roam from the cash, to Genos, and back again. 

What?

His first thought is of the spacious apartments in the more populated areas of the city. Places with multiple rooms, maybe a kitchen wide enough to stretch his arms in. If Genos has this kind of money, why isn’t he in one of them? 

Looking back up at his disciple, Saitama can’t help but notice the look on his face. You really want to stay here? Ignoring another drip of ice cream on his fingers, With me? It doesn’t make sense. Of course, most of the stuff Genos does doesn’t make a lot of sense. Saitama knows his power is enormous, but he’s already told Genos everything he knows about where it came from. What else is there to learn? And why does he think living together will help him learn whatever it is faster?

He imagines having a roommate. Only, no; that doesn’t work. Because most roommates--most people aren’t like Genos. He’s had people ask about his strength before, of course, but none have asked to be his disciple. None have asked for training. And none stuck around after he told them about his regimen. He’s not the kind of guy most people want as a friend, or even a long-term acquaintance. So what would it be like, having Genos as a roommate?