Perhaps Josuke wasn't as good with English as expected because he was just bad with languages. Maybe it was because he'd rebelled against it in his childhood, unwilling the speak the same tongue as the man who left his mother to raise him alone. Either way he was struggling now and that was a problem.

As much as Josuke looked like a punk he didn't get bad grades often or on purpose. When he did he studied to better those grades without prompting. The problem was this was one subject he needed someone else to help him with since he sucked that bad.

Okuyasu wasn't dumb and actually fairs pretty well in English but he wasn't really good at explaining why things were what they were. Josuke had tried him first anyway.

"No, that doesn't end with an 's' to make it a group, it just turns into mice."

"Why?" Josuke demanded, eyes narrowed and teeth starting the grind in frustration.

"I dunno it just... Does?"

Which was how most 'help' went with Okuyasu which was fine. It just meant he needed to find someone else. Koichi was currently busy with his plans for the future and stressing out because Yukako was starting to hang out in his house and his family was being... Well. Family.

Tonio had traveled the world and spoke English decently, but he was busy with his restaurant and hadn't needed to write it so much as he'd needed to speak it.

Yuuya only knew enough English to flirt. Sweet nothings and I Love You's and pickup lines that were probably really bad. Josuke admitted he'd learned a lot in the short time Yuuya had tried to teach him but none of it was useful for his homework.

Jotaro was doing, uh, whatever he did when he wasn't in Morioh. Hopefully he was hanging out with his daughter on some well deserved down time. Most likely he was in the middle of the ocean multitasking something the SPW wanted from him and his profession all at the same time.

His mother was busy and he really didn't want to stress her out any further. That's it really.

Maybe he could ask another of his classmates for help? Oh, but... There was one option left. One person who he honestly hadn't thought of. Rohan probably knew English well enough since he was also known to travel during his vacations, right?

Right. Rohan would probably make fun of him and he had a short temper but he loved to prove his own superiority and knowledge at the drop of the hat. At the very least Josuke could ask for him help. Not like he was hoping Rohan would start to be nicer to him or anything.

Had he been swinging by Rohan's place to chat the past few months and gotten into arguments? Yes. Did he regret it? Not really, since each time he learned a little bit more about Rohan. Also got to eat really good snacks for free. Which, come to think of it, hadn't exactly been there since Josuke had first started visiting. Maybe he was warming up to Josuke!

Hope flows eternal, especially for lovesick fools.

Which was exactly why he was stuck here in Rohan's kitchen with his English textbook out, fingers clenching against the bright cover in frustration. Today Rohan had laid out a plate of donuts and refused to let Josuke have any until he got five questions right.

It was honestly a source of motivation for Josuke's rumbling stomach. There was even one cut in the shape of a star with blue frosting. Blue! On a donut! Practically calling Josuke's name!

"The next word in Prosperity. P-r-o-s-p-e-r-i-t-y."

"P-r-o-s-p-e-r-i-t-y, Pl-proo...prospur...plospeer..." Josuke slammed the book shut with an audible thump and dropped it on the table in disgust. "Why is the word so long? And how is 'L' different from 'R'? This is bullshit!"

"In English, Josuke. Prosperity." Rohan was leaning against the heel of his hand, eyes lazily trained on Josuke's form as he moved to try and grip at Rohan's wallpaper. 'Not what I originally wanted to do with my evening, but it is amusing to watch him try. He really doesn't seem to know much English at all.'

This was when Rohan got that sort of intrusive thought that sounded almost believable. The one that said Josuke probably didn't understand much English at all, so it would be alright if Rohan just went ahead and tested out saying what had been growing in his chest for the past few months. There was no way Josuke would understand, right? Right!

"...I love you," Fell out of his mouth. Three simple words in a language Josuke didn't know very well. What's the harm in admitting it when he wouldn't understand?

Josuke turned to him, eyes blinking slowly. Rohan returned the gaze unwavering and waited for Josuke to say something. Maybe accuse him of calling him names or try and say 'prosperity' again.

Instead a flush red as a strawberry covered most of Josuke's face with his eyes dilating slightly.

Oh, shit, of all the things for Josuke to understand it had to be that one, didn't it? Rohan flushed red himself, head lifting from his hand as he stared like a deer in the headlights. Silence engulfed them for a long moment, stretching itself thin.

Rohan wanted to disappear. Or better yet, make Josuke forget this had ever happened, forget those words he'd stupidly let out. Where was his pen?

"Yes!" Josuke crowed, jumping to his feet in record time. Both their faces were still flushed but a brilliant grin had grown on Josuke's face in the silence as he processed the meaning. "Love you also!"

"Too, not also. And no you don't," Rohan said automatically as he pushed his chair back and braced his hands against the table. "You're seventeen, you have your whole life ahead of you and so many people who are kinder to you than I am-"

"I don't speak English," Josuke sing songed, leaning all the way across the table until his pompadour was starting to rest on top of Rohan's head. "But you love me and I love you too."

"You are insufferable and you pushed your way into my good graces when I should have hated you forever."

"Still don't understand what you're saying but maybe Yuuya was right about English being kind of sexy." That had made Rohan shut up and flush an even deeper red to Josuke's amusement. "Can I kiss you?"

"If you can stop talking for five minutes." Purple eyes widened at that, fluttering closed when Rohan finally bridged the distance between their lips. The plate of donuts was forgotten as Josuke walked backwards into the living room, legs closing when Rohan straddled him without taking a breath.

Josuke's hands remained at Rohan's waist in an almost gentlemen like fashion it it weren't for the fact Rohan was wearing a crop top during the entire makeout session. Rohan may have grabbed a handful of Josuke's pecs when he'd pushed the teen back against the couch.

The snow swirls against the car window, pink and blue fogging over Josuke's vision as he lays curled up in the back of his mom's car as she tries to get them to the Hospital. It should be white, like all the other times it has snowed. But it is not so for little Josuke.

When the car stalls, a boy approaches. He's wearing what looks like a school uniform and seems to have been waiting. For what?

For their car to break down?

The boy with a pompadour helps his mom get the car going. He lays his jackets down on the snow in a heartbeat. Josuke sees pink and blue almost purposefully obscure his face, his hands...

Josuke watches as his disappears into the snow as they drive away. How he picks up the jacket and shrugs it back on even though it must be freezing cold. Like a hero.

"He saved us," Tomoko whispers as they drive away. Saved her little boy when he should've been anywhere but there. His face is familiar to her, but she can't recall a name. Later she won't even be able to remember anything but the pompadour and the jacket. For now though, she doesn't question this miracle.

Two long months he spends in the hospital. Each time someone enters the room he smiles at them, even in his sleep. Doesn't want them to worry even though they do.

He gets used to the hands used to check him. They lift him up, take his temperature, hold cups and bowls and chopsticks to his lips, grasp his own hands reassuringly. Some are whiter than toilet paper, most are the color of sand, and others like the bark on trees. Most are cold. Almost all of them wear blue skin tight gloves when they touch him.

One pair is blue without the gloves. Their fingers are smaller than the others and they skim over his bare skin. They are always pleasantly warm. Somewhere he knows they are apologizing for something. Where they touch sometimes feels better, but perhaps that's more his imagination than anything.

"Can you do my hair like his," Josuke asks towards about a month into his stay. It's one of the rare moments his throat doesn't burn quite so much. He recalls blue hands brushing against his throat. Tomoko hummed thoughtfully at him and combed fingers through his growing bangs. She knows who he's talking about.

"Give it another month or two and maybe we'll have something to work with." He grins wide at her before falling asleep under her soothing fingertips as they continue to run through his hair.

He doesn't know the doctors say he may not live through the next month. Nor will he know how Tomoko had sat in the car, knuckles white on the wheel, and cried. How his grandpa Ryohei had taken that same day off work, unable to stop his own sorrow from leaking out.

He gets better though. Seemingly at the last second, for no explainable reason. That's just fine.

The moment he's released from the hospital Tomoko guides him to the car, hand in hand. She rolls the windows down because winter has left Morioh early with sunshine in it's wake. She gets to work as Josuke breathes in the sunshine and grass he'd missed.

Josuke wants to use the pomade himself but has no real idea what to do with it. Tomoko lets him play with it for a bit anyway as she starts to spray a thick cloud of hairspray. Josuke gags at the taste and holds his breath for as long as he can.

It's much smaller than what it will be a decade later, but little Josuke loves his little pomp.

"It matches," He smirks at his reflection in the rearview mirror. The boy from before? Of course. But Josuke wasn't just talking about him right now.

He was talking about his new friend who was cotton candy blue and pink all over. Who had the same hands that had apologized over and over again.

"D'ora," His new friend agreed, patting its comically huge blue helmet gently. Josuke copied the motion.

"Don't do that too hard or you'll mess it up," Tomoko warns as she fastens him into his seat. Pausing before she shuts the door, she reaches forward and hugs him tight for what must be the fifth time today. "Let's go home darling."

"Okay!" He grips her back tight, knowing she'd been scared in the way young children always do.

His new friend hugs her too, but she doesn't seem to notice.

They watch their surroundings with sharp eyes. Maybe they'll see the boy who saved them if they just keep looking. It's a nice thought.

When they get home, Tomoko unbuckles Josuke and carries him inside. Ryohei greets them at the door, exhausted from another night shift but still happy to see Josuke.

"Knew you'd get better, squirt." He claps him firmly on his tiny shoulder and wanders off to sleep. Josuke waves after him. His friend copies him.

"Let's get you fed," Tomoko hums, kissing his temple before setting him down as she shuts the door with her foot.

"What're we having?"

"Hamburger steak!" She cheers, and Josuke squeals in happiness. "Yeah, I thought you'd like that. Go set the table?"

Josuke scrambles for the utensil drawer, his friend drifting after him. The drawer squeaks loudly as he opens it. He grabs two pairs of chopsticks before looking at his Stand curiously.

"You want some?" Josuke whispers, pointing at the drawer. His friend tilting its head consideringly before reaching out and touching the drawer. Something in it shifts and his stands shuts the drawer.

"D'ora," It says again. Maybe it's the only thing his friend can say. It's tone is a polite refusal.

"Suit yourself." Sliding the drawer shut, Josuke bounced over to the table and set the chopsticks down.

"Josuke, did you shut the drawer?" Tomoko called accusingly from the kitchen mere seconds later.

"Yeaaah! Why?"

"Are you sure? It didn't sound like it!"

"I did, I swear!" Though, come to think of it, it hadn't made the usual noise when he'd closed it. Or rather, why his friend closed it.

"Huh, it is closed." Peeking in through the doorway, Josuke watched his mom open and close the drawer while watching it curiously. "And it doesn't make that awful noise anymore... Ah, well, maybe dad fixed it."

As time went on, Tomoko would find an awful lot of excuses when it came to things suddenly being fixed in the house.

Josuke turned to his new friend.

"Did you fix it?"

"D'ora!" His friend confirmed, raising his hands balled into fists.

"That's kinda cool!" Gathering his thoughts, Josuke settled a fist under his chin in an exaggerated thinking pose. "Y'know, you haven't told me your name."

"...D'ora," It shrugged, realizing it didn't have a name. "D'ora?"

"Of course I'll give you a name! Lesee... You fix things. But you can't really speak like me and mom can..." Josuke puffed out his cheeks the thought. "Well, that's kinda crazy. And since you fix things, you kind make everything you wanna touch unbreakable unless you want it to. Diamonds are really hard to break. So! What do you think of Crazy Diamond?"

"D'ora!" Crazy Diamond agreed, sweeping Josuke up in a massive hug. Well, massive to Josuke. Crazy Diamond was a fair bit bigger than him.

(Read on Ao3)

(Read Vee’s Comic)

Rohan minds the cold more than most people think he should. The kind of minding that meant he'd sleep with two comforters, always wear socks, and woke up more from the warmth than the caffeine of the coffee.

Pfft. Like he cared what they thought.

So when Josuke insists on dragging him out of the house when it's just 40ºF outside, he bundles up well. He also steps on Josuke's toe when he laughs at the fact Rohan has his scarf obscure around half his face for warmth far more than obscurity.

Perhaps it says something that he doesn't ask where they're going and simply gets ready. Well. If by simply you mean with a few acerbic insults about being forced to go out in the freezing cold throw in every few minutes.

When he's done Josuke lets out a soft "Finally," and Rohan pretends not to hear because otherwise they wouldn't be going out at all and Rohan does not get ready for nothing.

It's almost worth it when Josuke absentmindedly grabs Rohan's hand and leads him out the door, down the street...

More than almost, but he'd never tell Josuke that.

Air puffs visibly out of both their mouths, and Rohan contemplates how to draw it. Mentally traces it's soft outline in the air as it comes out of Josuke's mouth. It's a bad habit to breath through your mouth in such cold weather, but it's such a Josuke thing to do.

"Hey, Josuke!" Said boy perked up at the voice, turning towards it automatically.

"Hah?" And he lets go of Rohan's hand. "Ah! Okuyasu, Koichi! What're you doing out?"

Rohan watches him go, empty hand drifting towards the other and squeezing tight. He doesn't feel much like talking now. So he lingers a few steps behind, watching. Thinking.

Thinking about Heaven's Door. What he could do to Josuke, if only he gained the courage to open his mouth and ask.

It'd be easy, really. A single flick of the wrist. That was all, and then he'd never feel this jealous doubt coil in his gut and squeeze his breath away again.

「I will Utterly, Unconditionally, love Kishibe Rohan,」 A swallow as he watches Josuke move away from him to greet Koichi and Okuyasu. 「And Kishibe Rohan alone.」

No one would ever be able to take Josuke away from him then. Not even Josuke himself.

"...Rohan!" Rohan hadn't noticed his eyes had drifted away in thought. Snapping his gaze back to Josuke, his eyes widen at the bright smile. The one that's only ever been aimed at him.

...But what meaning would there be in that...?

Koichi and Okuyasu are already leaving. They brush past Rohan on their way to somewhere else. Not that Rohan notices, but Koichi glances behind with small smile of his own growing at the bewildered look on Rohan's face at Josuke's own smitten look.

Idiot couple.

Rohan never finds the will to open up Josuke Higashikata and write his jealous desires. It's hard that way, but it's real. It's the one thing Rohan wants to stay real.

Josuke grabs his hand again, and any will he had to use Heaven's Door wilted. They're off again.

But if he would open Josuke up just to read, he would have found chapters written about him.

At first, Josuke had been curious in a very mean spirited way. But... it didn't take long for it to grow into genuine curiosity, along with exasperation and frustration. As they both grew older and learned to hold their tongues he started liking it when Rohan opened his mouth to talk. He was witty and petty in equal turns.

Josuke found himself staring a little too long at his lips.

Also found himself upset that Rohan treated himself so badly. Ate instant, awful meals half the week, drank coffee twice as much as he did anything else, and would fall asleep at his drawing desk. Josuke hated it.

So he started invading Rohan's house to try and take care of him. Rohan had noticed pretty quick- but it hadn't taken long for him to start enjoying it too. So Josuke remained a daily guest in the house he might have once accidentally helped burn down.

Hot Cocoa tasted so much better than coffee after all, and if Josuke made it, all the better. Caffeine withdrawal was harder than Rohan had expected, but Josuke had gone through this with his mother twice before. Didn't make it easier- especially since Tomoko wouldn't throw nearly as much verbal abuse at her son if he refused to tell her where the coffee machine was- but it was at least anticipated.

Rohan learned to eat whatever Josuke handed him because it tasted good in the way only homemade meals did, even when it was mostly out of a box. Rohan still didn't understand how Josuke did it.

The going to bed part had been... Harder. Josuke had tripped the first time he'd tried to move Rohan from desk to bed- and boy had that been a yelling match. There'd been a good week Josuke didn't come over at all and Rohan silently suffered. Even considered apologizing after realizing how bland everything else tasted. How much he missed the casual taunts and occasional brush of fingers.

Josuke had been only a twinge satisfied to come back to Rohan once again a mess but mostly terribly upset. He hadn't quite figured out why yet.

Rohan became a bit more compliant after that, but there were no real apologies. Josuke found he didn't mind. Probably would have gotten Rohan checked if he had directly apologized at that point, anyway.

The fourth time he tries to get Rohan to sleep at least horizontally Josuke manages to carry him all the way to the bed without mishap. Sighing in relief, he settled a comforter over Rohan and watched him breath. Just to make sure he was still asleep.

There was a crease in his brow, even when he slept. Josuke smoothes a thumb over it and froze in place when it smoothed and Rohan sighed. Like he was trusted in Rohan's weakest state.

It was a stupid moment to realize he'd started liking Rohan way too much for a friend. Way too late, and at a time where all he could do was walk away for a bit.

Josuke didn't handle walking away from things very well.

He knows what they say about love and hate, but this was just ridiculous.

There was a very long 'chapter' in which Josuke tries to smother his feeling or at least make them less obvious. Rohan would love to read it if he knew it existed.

What it all boils down to though is that what Kishibe Rohan wanted to write would have been a tad redundant.

「I Utterly, Unconditionally, love Kishibe Rohan, no matter how much I try not to. That idiot Mangaka would starve without me anyway.」

And it was true.

(Read on Ao3)

Sitting on the mountain side Frisk is presented once again with a choice. It's funny... On their way up, they hadn't bothered to look down in fear that if they did they'd never make it all the way up.

It's quite the image now, Frisk staring down the mountain path and their options hovering in front of them. To reset... or to quit.

In some part of their heart, they regret every reset. Regret pulling Sans back with them. Mourn every fresh gaze that does not recognize Frisk who had befriended and killed and run from them so many times before...

Frisk at first had wanted to simply offer up their soul. Break the barrier and move on.

It's not like there was much time left for them, either way... But they always came back, kicking and screaming. They were determined to give the monsters a good end and, seemingly, giving up their soul wasn't enough for that. So they came back.

Glancing down at the two options, they dismissed them for now. Shifting around, they watched the sunrise fondly. Unlike the monsters around them they had seen this site countless times before, and yet... It was always more special after each run through the underground.

They couldn't wait for their friends- for that is what they are this time- to see the stars and marvel over their beauty too. If they were lucky perhaps tonight would have a shooting star. Perhaps...

Bones creak behind them. It's Sans, and his ever present grin. He sinks down beside them, legs dangling carelessly over the edge. The white noise behind them barely registers. All they can hear is the wind and their own slow breathing.

"How many times does this make it now?"

"Of reaching the surface or the end?"

"The surface, I suppose."

"Seven. A lucky number."

"Heh. Does that mean you'll let us live, kid?"

"...Maybe I should." It would be a good place to end this.

"Well, there's always hope." The wind pick up around them, rippling through their clothes. Frisk runs their fingers over the wrinkles that flow through their shorts. "Kid... I gotta ask. Why do you keep resetting?" They freeze.

"Does it matter?" This is said too quiet, and Frisk can't meet Sans' gaze. It's not what they meant to say. Their shoulders slump as a boney hand gently grasps their shoulder.

"You've dragged all of us back and forth on your own little whims. Of course it matters."

Frisk swallows.

"I... This is the end for me, Sans."

"Kid... What does that mean?"

"Kids don't just fall into the underground for no reason, Sans. People don't climb a whole mountain and then conveniently lose their balance into a hole at the top." Tugging their hands into the sleeves of their sweater, Frisk shivers. "I just wanted to live a little longer once I figured out that I could, down there."

"Frisk?"

"It's going to be okay. Just... The doctors already told the matron they can't fix me without money the orphanage doesn't have to spare. Even then the waiting list on getting a new heart is... Well, anyway, they said I had a few weeks left and today's the end of the line. Heh. I really did a number on myself in there. The toil is really starting to get to me."

Clutching a hand over the locket still around their neck, Frisk gave a wry smile as they wheezed through their teeth.

"I shouldn't have climbed up the mountain, because if I hadn't, I might've been okay with dying. Now... W-with everyone alive and happy? Having known every side of them I can know?" Their voice wobbles, and they take a moment to catch their breath. They wouldn't break down now. Not when everyone else was so happy.

They can sees Sans' smile shrinking with every word. So he's starting to get it, huh.

"I don't want to give them up. This life... Toriel... My friends... You... It doesn't belong to me after today. I don't have a future." A tear rolls down their cheek and they scrub it harshly with their sleeve.

"Frisk-" They shush him as they stand up, looking back at their new family with a heartbroken fondness.

"I've been very selfish, huh? I know you must hate me for putting you through all this. I kind of hate me too." They let out a quiet, loathing giggle. "Chara and I put you through so much. We're so selfish, wanting a second chance at life. But that's normal, yeah? Wanting a second chance. It was just bad luck they found me instead of someone healthy."

"Chara... The human Asgore and Toriel found before the war?" It's all coming together for Sans. Frisk nods jerkily.

"Yes. Still, there are still so many things I just don't understand. The man who speaks in hands- why does he disappear once I speak to him? Why do you remember so much? How much do you really know? Why did the other six souls come to the hole on Mt. Ebott? But I can't find the answers in there. So I'm gonna let go. This is the best ending I could get... So I'll leave it here."

There is a long period of silence where they both stare bleaky down the mountain. Sans churns over the new information and Frisk... Frisk tries to breathe.

"Haven't tried asking for help though, have you? To see if one of us could." Bitterness and misery pepper his words. Frisk reluctantly nods.

"As true as that may be, what could anyone do about this? It's not a curse, just my own body working against me. Maybe strict bed rest could give me another week or two. Then what? Give them time to cry at my bedside? Have the bad days outnumber the good? No. No, I don't think so." Taking a deep breath of the chilly mountain air, Frisk met Sans' eyes. "You take care of them, yeah? The human world is a lot bigger and without me there's no do over."

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Sans' grin is finally back. Too wide, but back. "Heh... I suppose I have to care now. But I'm not giving up on you kiddo. Let's make it down the mountain before you quit on me."

"Doing that might make my heart burst," They try to hide a cough with a laugh, turning away from Sans to rejoin the group. Sans stares at the sunrise with new eyes.

Perhaps he is greedy too as he ponders what to do. Maybe he'll take Frisk's soul and figure out something. Maybe he'll let them die, knowing that he'll never have to do it over again.

[Read on Ao3]

Saitama will readily admit he became a hero for fun. Not for justice, or money, or love. It's just a hobby, y'know.

In the early morning hours before he puts on his wristbands, he always swipes his thumb across the hay colored letters on his wrist. ジェノス it reads, Genos, just one name. Saitama doesn't sigh over it much.

Others would recoil if they knew he hadn't become a hero with any intent to save Genos. To be honest it was troublesome to see those people who though becoming stronger, smarter, kinder, wiser in general could abate someone's fated end. Saitama knew better.

All in all, it would be far more likely that his overpowered strength would be the thing that led to Genos' end if they ever met. He didn't break the things around his house unless half asleep, but even that might be enough to hurt them. Kill them, even.

Saitama was honestly trying to be at peace with the fact he would live longer than his 'true' love. It wasn't working very well.

Maybe this name on his wrist would accept that he didn't want certain things like sex and pursued the idea of near-defeat like a miracle drug that didn't exist anymore for him. Those thoughts made him worry all the more.

By the time he's twenty five, Saitama starts to wonder if Genos died before they could meet.

Still he continues on with his hobby, always managing to catch their names before he throws a punch, no matter how long and irritating their monologues. Did villains not know how to tone down the melodrama? Vaccine Man was just one of the many.

Annoying things, it turns out, lead him into one of the most wonderful things of all.

A mosquito somehow evades him better than enemy ever before just to lead him to a cyborg that appeared far more android. Split almost in half and broken, the boy insists he wants to be Saitama student and adds his name is Genos.

Saitama automatically agrees, brain stuttering over the name for a moment, before he realizes what he's just done.

He spends the night before Genos moves in pacing his flat, too irritated to clean, too curious to sleep as early as he'd like. He half expects Genos to not show up tomorrow. From a distance, he seems promising. Strong thanks to his steel body if a little inexperienced with self preservation. A sense of thrill during his battles. Serious. Outside of Saitama's strength, what else could he want?

Up close he is a brooding teenager with an angst filled backstory that shonen anti heroes and heroes alike dream of. Saitama ends up interrupting him loudly, unable to take how long it was taking. He does not want to know what has made Genos sad. He kind of just wants to know if Genos is really supposed to be his soulmate.

The prompt fight and mini adventure to beat down the weird science experiment later, he finds himself oddly attached to the brash teen. (Though Genos was certainly not modern art because he was far easier on the eyes.)

They continue on like that, with Genos calming down and obviously feeling far more at ease with someone who couldn't be wiped out to come back home to. Saitama appreciates how Genos learns to quickly, is a little worried at how much the boy does chores, and likes having someone to give him a little more direction. Honestly, he wouldn't even have known to register as a Hero if not for Genos.

It is not until much later as he shares a drink with License-less Rider that he realizes Genos has slowly been giving him back his emotions. The apathy he'd once felt towards everything was fading away so easily he hadn't even noticed. He tugs at his wristband under the counter, running a thumb over the now sunshine yellow letters on his wrist as he talks amiable with the second hero to tell Saitama he was grateful.

Growing attached seemed inevitable. Saitama cannot say if Genos will live to see tomorrow, and that's a bit frightening. But he always follows Genos when the S-Class heroes are called and it seems to keep him alive. Somedays he even catches himself wanting to find the monster quicker just to get Genos home.

Genos seems to be growing fond of him too. It was hard to tell when the boy had started out with full blown obsession, but the way he no longer hesitated to casually touch Saitama was a hint. Brushing shoulders as they sat together to watch the TV, or share a manga. Not ducking out of Saitama's hand when he went to ruffle Genos' synthetic locks.

There were also the moment he caught Genos staring at him when he didn't have his journal out. The moments were few and far between. Honestly, he didn't see what Genos saw in him when he wore baggy hoodie and sweatpants, but Genos didn't seem to watch him after he got out of the bath.

He knew Genos technically couldn't blush- Doctor Stench had apparently made many things to let Genos live a good teenage life, but blushing had not been considered- but there was a certain way his eyes squinted and his hands would block out Saitama that just screamed embarrassment. He would chuckle and go to change a little smug.

It's on one of the more exciting days- Genos and Saitama had gotten to a sale early and made out like bandits- when they settle back in at home with their spoils.

"What do you mean there's not room?" Saitama asks in his usual monotone, looking away from the cabinet where he'd been sorting their pasta. "I checked before we left."

"Maybe I need to rearrange it?"

"No, I'll do it." Saitama manages to push in between Genos and the fridge with minimal effort. He bends down to shuffle some of the vegetables around to make that last bundle of carrots fit. He doesn't notice he's basically pinned Genos between the counter, the fridge door, and his ass. "What are we having for dinner?"

"Fried Chicken, teacher," Genos says a little too breathily, and Saitama bends down even lower to get to the meat drawer. He barely lays a hand on the chicken before he hears a muffled yelp and he squints.

"Hmm?" Saitama straightens up, seemingly unaware of Genos having a mini overload behind him. "It is pretty close to expiring... Good idea, Genos." He sets the chicken on the counter and shuts the fridge before clapping Genos on the shoulder and leaving.

Genos had no idea Saitama's... rear, was so... big. Considering his muscle training. He leans a hand against the counter and breathes hard.

Saitama remains oblivious in the next room, scratching his belly as he looks for a tv station that doesn't suck too much.

It is much later, after the battle with Boros, that Saitama actually decides to sit down and talk to Genos about the whole soulmates thing. He's been putting it off for a long time. There's a little anxiety there, that Genos might expect more that Saitama had to give, would ever give.

For instance, sex. It wasn't that he couldn't have it, or that he didn't want it sometimes... But it was rare, and he had to care. Caring had been hard for almost half a decade now. Genos might not like that. He didn't know many people who would.

It would hurt more coming from Genos. Saitama just knew. Especially since he cared a lot about Genos. The knowledge the younger man would die first... Fingers gripped his wrist, gripping it with such pressure red marks showed up on even his skin.

Then there was his general twisted morals. With so much good an evil in the world, Saitama's twisted brand of deadpan logic could be off putting. But Genos was used to that.

The sky is dark when Saitama finally decides to do it, Genos writing furiously quick in his journal as Saitama turned off the TV. He settles back down opposite to Genos, and the boy notes it with curious eyes.

"Teacher?"

"Aaah. Well." Saitama idly screws a thumb under his wristband, stretching the fabric while he scratches an itch. He notices Genos' eyes follow those movements before abruptly looking back up at Saitama's face, obviously flustered. "I don't suppose you have a name on your wrist, do you?"

"No teacher, not even before the massacre." Genos doesn't say it bitterly, but in a somewhat resigned way. "Why?"

"Hm." Saitama peels the wristband with a name to hide off first, letting Genos' eyes grow wide. "I do."

"Teacher?" Genos murmurs, eyeing the blank wrist and then drifting to where that hand's fingers worked the other band loose. A glint of gold caught his eyes. "Why-"

"Take a look." Saitama holds his arm out with the wrist down as an offer. Genos doesn't have to of course. It's his choice in the end.

Metallic fingers skim the soft skin over blue veins nervously before flipping it over.

It still says Genos, but the word is just as metallic as Genos' fingers. Like a gold foil. Genos' grip tightens, and he tugs it up so he can read it right side up. He rubs his thumb over it, like it'll rub off if he does. His hands begin to shake when it doesn't.

"Before you showed up it was the color of hay." It feels weird to overshare like this, but the silence is worse. "I like it better now."

"You don't regret-?"

"How could I?" When Genos had brought him everything he missed, appreciated everything Saitama did, when he seemed to like him back? "I'm more worried that you will."

"I could never regret this," Genos says almost reverently, still rubbing that thumb over his name. "Not as long as you let me stay."

"Even if I don't want sex?" Saitama drawled, and he eyed Genos' inquiring eyes. "I'd still grow to love you. I just might not want to do it. Will I still be enough?"

"Yes," Genos says almost breathily before leaning forward and kissing Saitama's palm, then his name. "Because I love you. Don't be stupid, teacher. Though I suppose I won't have to see the doctor about a phallus after all."

"You don't already have one?"