#gentama

Day 15

Though, he supposed, the cyborg did have a knack for discovering his unique items of interest for the week and buying them for Saitama.

He really had to get it through the teen’s metallic skull to stop doing that. Or he’d keep finding himself in awkward situations where the hair product of the moment did nothing to stimulate growth and just made them both frustrated and annoyed (Genos at the product’s company for failing his Sensei, and Saitama at Genos for yet another reminder of his one stupid insecurity); or where the drink that he’d been dying to try wound up tasting like liquid garbage, and he then had to try and pawn it off to anyone else so he wouldn’t have to ingest every can in the bulk-packaged box.

Or, in this particular case, so he wouldn’t have to wear a ridiculous outfit.

“Do you not like it, Sensei?” Genos asked softly, a hint of concern in his voice reminding Saitama he’d been silent for several minutes too long.

Holding the offending clothes in his left hand, Saitama reached back and scratched his bare head, wording this as best as he could so as to not upset the kid. “It’s not that I don’t like it,” he began, sighing a bit, “but really? Matching pants? Genos, even I can see I’ll look terrible wearing them. Like an old, bald, Asexual flag come-to-life.”

Saitama chuckled a bit at the imagery, trying to ease the rejection of sorts for the cyborg, but Genos’ expression did something entirely unexpected. It brightened, as if the older man had just proclaimed it was the best gift in the world. Saitama was officially confused—had this been a prank or something? The little shit! He’d worried about hurting his feelings and now, of all times, Genos had finally developed a sense of humor—

“The pants are for me, Saitama-sensei!” Genos proclaimed happily, his delicate mouth turning up in a pleasant half-moon and effectively interrupting the other man’s internal rant.

Alright, well, now Saitama had completely lost track of the situation. So, the silly, striped, and now obviously over-sized pants weren’t even for him, but for Genos (and didn’t that burn him when he thought about it sometimes, that the teen was taller than him? Emphasis on little shit, just out of spite), and yet he was the one holding onto them and passing judgement? Wait, that meant…

“So the pants are for you,” Saitama reiterated, pointing at the teen with his free hand and receiving a nod. “Then the hoodie is actually for me, right? Or have I just been holding what you plan to wear to the City G Pride Parade because I make a sturdy shelf?”

His smile only stretching in that subtle, but breath-taking way that only Saitama ever got to see, Genos nodded again and raised his hands slowly, resting one gently atop the clothing while the other wrapped around Saitama’s right bicep, squeezing just enough to portray comfort. “The hoodie is for you,” he confirmed gently.

“Well, glad we cleared that up, my arm was starting to get tired,” Saitama mumbled, looking down at his feet as he felt the back of his neck heat up when Genos took a step closer.

He was lying through his teeth, of course, he didn’t even remember what fatigue felt like anymore, but the kid was seriously embarrassing. They hadn’t been dating for long, only just got their feelings for each other sorted out a month ago, and not only did Genos think that they’d reached the point of ‘couple with matching outfits’, but he was way too comfortable with being physically affectionate.

So okay, Saitama knew couples got close and stuff. He did, okay? But the last person who had even shown any interest in him was an upperclassman in Junior High who didn’t even get more than one kiss before realizing that if they tried for anything more intense it made Saitama stiff as a board (and not in any sexy way, either). And now he had this cyborg guy, who looked like he walked straight off a sci-fi addition of a GQ magazine cover, and had fans galore to choose from, vying for his heart openly and so tenderly it made something in the bald man’s chest ache unfamiliarly.

The most amazing thing of all, though? Genos was as Asexual as him, and that made everything comfortable, gentle, safe, and all the more real to Saitama that he was in a relationship and it wouldn’t end because he didn’t want another person’s tongue in his mouth or hand down his pants; it wouldn’t end because he wasn’t sexually attracted to Genos. No, they were in this for the long haul, he just knew it in every little touch the teen gave him, in every secret smile he was offered, in every moment of warmth Genos orchestrated that filled a void deep within Saitama that he’d believed was an insatiable black hole, only to find out was just an empty well awaiting someone patient enough to fill it one cup of water at a time.

Somehow Saitama had made this beautiful, smart, and endearing guy fall for him, with all odds stacked against him, and fuck everything…he was going to wear the damn hoodie, wasn’t he? It was the least he could do for the guy who wanted his bald ass.

Well, love made you do stupid shit, or so his manga always told him, so fuck it. He was going to wear the hell out of that hoodie and make the kid happy.

On one condition.

“Genos,” he said, getting the cyborg’s attention and realizing they were much closer now. Looking at Genos with upturned, narrowed eyes, Saitama willed his face to stop flushing in the humiliating way he knew it was, and got out, “If I wear this thing it’ll only be indoors, got it? This hoodie, with me in it, doesn’t leave the apartment, understand?”

Genos’ face was doing that thing, Saitama recognized belatedly—that thing where it softened every inch of that already perfect countenance and said, without a single word, he knew what Saitama had been about to say. Damn it, he was the older one, it was unfair that Genos always seemed to have the upper-hand in this relationship. The guy was too good at understanding him.

Unless it had to do with his lack of hair and how much he didn’t want to ever talk about it, then the kid was as dumb as a sack of bricks with no tact at all.

But Saitama digressed.

“Sensei,” Genos said, his breath ghosting across Saitama’s flushed face, “I bought these with the intention of us wearing them, together, in the comfort of our home and nowhere else. You can rest assured that I do not expect you to display this gift to anyone else, anywhere else, unless it is your own desire to do so.”

Staring into the cyborg’s softly glowing eyes, watching the way their artificial pupils adjusted to the lack of light trapped between their closely situated bodies, Saitama eventually let out a little sigh, smirking ever so slightly. “So, no Pride Parade adventures for us?” he asked flatly, trying not to look as relieved as he felt.

“Absolutely not, so long as that’s what you want.” Genos’ expression held an edge of seriousness that comforted Saitama even further, really not in the mood to be among hundreds of overly enthusiastic people who, although had every right to be loud and proud, were just too much for Saitama to take. Asexuals weren’t always welcomed at these parades either, so it was better to avoid them, he thought. The quiet of their apartment, with just him and Genos celebrating in their particularly domestic way, was all Saitama needed or even wanted.

On that note, didn’t that still sound so nice? Their apartment. Their home. It sent pleasant chills down his spine every time to be reminded that he was no longer alone, that he had someone to share his space with that not only respected him, but understood him better than anyone ever had.

And now that same someone would look ridiculous right along side him in Asexual-as-fuck pants.

If this wasn’t love, Saitama didn’t know what was.

Grasping the hoodie to his chest with his right hand, Saitama carefully pushed the pants against Genos’ chest with his left, putting some needed distance between them. “No time like the present,” he said in response to the teen’s questioning look. “Go put those on and I’ll slip this disaster on too.”

Lips parting to expose teeth in a smile Saitama had never seen before, Genos quickly pecked the man’s forehead in acceptance and wandered off to the bathroom for modesty’s sake; nothing Saitama hadn’t seen before, but he appreciated the courtesy. And as it was, the moment alone was necessary considering Genos had left him a bit stupefied.

“You can’t just smile like that out of nowhere, dude…You’ll blind a guy who’s unprepared,” Saitama intoned sulkily, turning his back to the hallway leading to the bathroom.

Pulling off his beloved Oppai sweatshirt, he tossed it in a corner to deal with later and put his gift on, expecting to be uncomfortable or to feel immediately inconvenienced, but was left, yet again, surprised. Not only was the material soft inside and out, but it was just that perfect level of baggy that Saitama loved in his clothes and, at his angle as the one wearing it, didn’t find the flag colors so glaring anymore.

Suddenly, Saitama decided, this hoodie was magic.

He could not say the same for the pants.

Genos returned rather quickly, moving with a happy sense of purpose over to his boyfriend to show them off, only to stop within a couple feet of the bald man. The puppy-like tilt of the cyborg’s head only spurred it on, but Saitama couldn’t help himself as he slapped his hands over his mouth, desperately trying to not shake. He really didn’t want to upset the kid, or fluster him, but dear god those pants—

“Sensei, are you al—” Genos began, but Saitama couldn’t do keep it in. Not with that oblivious look on his cyborg’s face.

Bursting into laughter that bellowed out from deep within his gut, Saitama grabbed his stomach and hunched over, face screwed up in amusement. It was too much—Genos reminded him of something straight out of a Doctor Suess book, with those striped legs that seemed almost ridiculously long now because of the direction of the stripes, and his cluelessness over how he appeared, mixed with how endearingly proud he seemed to be wearing them, just made the hero laugh all the more powerfully.

At some point Saitama was laughing so hard he lost all strength in his legs and plopped gracelessly onto his butt, hugging his stomach tighter as tears collected at the corners of his shut eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard, if he’d ever laughed this hard, and it hurt to do so but it was also such a good feeling that Saitama was overcome by how nice it was, the world sort of fading out for a moment with that intensely lovely feeling sinking in.

It wasn’t until he felt metal arms wrap around him from behind that he refocused on the world, Genos squeezing him just enough that Saitama gradually stopped shaking and was able to let out a deep breath, collecting himself within minutes of being hugged. That didn’t stop him from still smiling like a doofus, he knew, but Saitama didn’t care—it was hard to care how dumb you looked when you were blanketed by your cyborg boyfriend.

“Sorry,” Saitama said as an afterthought once he regained his composure. “Hope I didn’t make you mad—”

“Not at all,” Genos interjected quickly, shaking his head as he pressed his face to the back of the older man’s neck, nuzzling the soft skin there. “I would do anything if it could make you laugh like that again.”

Feeling heat begin to pool in his cheeks, Saitama leaned back into the embrace, grabbing the ankles of his crossed legs and maneuvered just enough to where he could see the side of Genos’ face. “Why would you want that?” he asked teasingly. “I sounded like a cat being strangled! Who in their right mind thinks that’s pleasant to listen to?”

Genos rested his chin on the man’s shoulder, eying Saitama from his peripheral as he smiled so adoringly the the older man felt that heat travel all the way to the tips of his ears. “I do, because it means you’re happy, and even better is that it was my own actions that brought you such happiness. I cannot think of anything more perfect than that,” he whispered tenderly.

It was official. This kid would be the death of him.

Hiding his face against Genos’ arm, Saitama made a choked whine of a noise, heat pouring off his face in waves as he felt the cyborg’s ridiculously adorned legs encircle his sides. Well and truly fucked, Saitama, after far too long to be considered reasonable, composed himself just enough to look at his overbearing, embarrassing, handsome, sweet, and utterly terrible boyfriend.

“You know, there is one thing I’m weak against,” Saitama poorly segued, earning a raised eyebrow in response.

“Sensei, if traveling to the moon and back cannot harm you, I fail to see how anything in this world can weaken you.”

Leave it to the kid to not take the hint, but bless him for going with the random topic change. It was alright though, because now Saitama could get revenge. Disgustingly sappy revenge. “Wanna know what it is?” he asked slyly, grinning like the cat that just got the cream.

When the cyborg nodded curiously, Saitama turned his head enough to kiss the side of the teen’s mouth and said, “You.”

His reward was the sound of fans speeding up in overwhelming love and emotional distress, the glow being emitted from the vents on the kid’s arms brightening just like Saitama’s own blush, and an overall warmth from both a taxed cyborg core and the image Saitama knew they made. Looking down at his hoodie, and sliding his gaze to his sides where Genos’ legs wrapped around him, Saitama had never felt so accepted, so loved, and so full.

It may have taken 25 lonesome years, but Saitama could finally see someone at the top of that well, holding onto not a cup, but a fire hose, and they determinedly weren’t moving from that spot. Though it would take a long time for the water to float him up to the well’s edge, where he would be able to give all of himself to the cyborg, the journey was going to be worth every patient, heartfelt moment.

And for once…Saitama didn’t mind the thought of waiting.

—

That is, if his boyfriend didn’t overheat and die first.

“Genos, you alright? Do you need some water? If you croak on me I’m still not wearing those pants.”

(*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡ And there you have it! I haven’t written anything at all decent in months, so I hope this came out alright; writing in Saitama’s perspective was much too fun. I write him so snarky~ *chuckles* I do so enjoy making fun of myself, and my own art, so have a Saitama doing just that. Bonus points if you spot the Savage Garden reference!

@petrichorvus this was that ‘doodle’ I promised to tag you in! As you can see, I got carried away ‧⁺( ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ◡ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ )⁺‧ Your really cute hoodie pic inspired the thought ‘you know what’s better than an egg in an Ace hoodie? A toaster making a similar fashion choice, just much much worse”. (Seriously guys, go look at that pic, you can find it HERE, and read their fics too! They’re an amazing writer!) Thanks for all the cute, positive, and wonderful Asexual representation in your work! Being represented matters so much, and us aces don’t get hardly any, so thank you~