#wickedends

    “Yes,” he answered, voice soft. The water sprung up as he slipped in, and Saitama remembered the bath he’d taken with him after they went to the club. That was so nice… He’d love to do it now, but…it didn’t feel right, not with how uncomfortable Genos was last time he washed all his gears out. “I can feel resistance in some of my joints, and there is only so much basic bathing can do to remove of that kind of build-up.”

    “I’m always happy to do this,” Saitama mumbled, picking up the worn-out bundle of steel wool drifting on the bottom of the tub. “I don’t mind.”

    Genos doubled over, plates stretching along his spine as he curled. “I know…”

    Saitama went about it slow, the same way he had before, asking questions to keep the kid from the funk creeping up on him. Saitama made sure he got into every corner, every screw head, every seam, all the way from the nape of his neck down to the divets in his hips. He liked it, honestly. Genos’ body was amazing--there was so much going on, and he couldn’t check out much before he felt creepy for doing it. Like this, though…it didn’t feel as weird, even after he got that finger-toothbrush-attachment thing. It was okay, sort of. He was supposed to, right? If he wanted to be thorough.

    And…

    …It was nice, to get to spend time on his student. He couldn’t do that much for him—what he tried, Genos had usually done faster, and better, and way neater than Saitama could do—but this one thing…

    He could do this for him. “Lift your arm up?” he mumbled, slipping the rag over his waist. The blonde paused in the exact science of wiping his toes and twisted to the side, leaving himself open for a very wet hug.

    “Sensei,” he laughed, waging the weakest attempt at escape ever. “This doesn’t seem like cleaning to me.”

    “I guess not… But it could be.”

    That got him a familiar raise of his eyebrow, but it was weighed down by something Genos wouldn’t say. “Oh, Sensei?”

    “Yeah,” he continued, hugging closer. “I mean…I could give you a good rub down like this.”

    The smirk that came after had a tough time sticking around. “While elbow-deep in dirty water, Sensei?”

    Saitama’s grip went loose and he struggled to get Genos to look at him. “I think we could be in a mud pit and I’d want to screw you.” He kept on staring at the wall… “That might be kinda hot, actually. ”

    He waited another few seconds before bringing his free hand around poke at those squishy cheeks. “…Kid?”

    Genos sighed loud enough Saitama could feel the stretch in his own ribs. “Sensei…”

    “…Do you wanna talk about this?”

    His disciple ran his palm along the hinge in his bicep. Rinsing those was next… “I’m…I apologize, Sensei.”

    “You don’t gotta,” he pushed, holding his waist a little tighter. “It’s just… This bothered you last time too, didn’t it?”

    The boy nodded…

    “And now, but I don’t know… Is it something I’ve done?”

    …And gave the most horrified sound Saitama’d ever heard from him. “Absolutely not, Sensei! Not in the least!”

    “So…why don’t you want me to touch you?” ‘Cause that’s what this was. The shuffling away, and refusing to make eye contact… He was ashamed. When his teacher would do anything other than touch him with the scrubbers, he’d get this look like he was expecting Saitama to scream at him…

    His fingers flexed under the water as he thought, tracing the plates in his thumbs. “Sensei…” Then he put a nervous hand over his hero’s. “It is difficult, sometimes…to see my body as mine. I have improved, I…I am more comfortable in it than I have been, but…It is moments like these,” he pushed, pulling his other hand from the tub and wiggling the four fingers that were attached, “That I’m reminded how…inhuman, I am.”

    Frustration kicked up in Saitama’s belly, but before he got the chance to huff it down Genos let out an equally frustrated groan. “I thought I would be alright this time…”

    Saitama rubbed at his leg under the water, trying his best to come up with something that wouldn’t earn him another mark on the “Conversations that Made Genos Cry” list. “You know…I don’t see you that way, right? At all?”

    The boy looked at him, saying “Of course, Sensei,” but…the way his eyes lit up…

    “There’s nothing ‘inhuman’ about you. Yeah, you’ve got some cool arms and stuff, but…so do lots of people.” Saitama remembered some of the heroes he’d met, and the civilians. “All those guys that we see at the meetings with different legs or backs, or the fans that send you pictures of their prosthetic hands and feet—they’re human, right?”

    Genos bobbed his head, fans humming along.

    “Yeah. And…this is still your body,” he urged, squeezing his thigh. “Even if you can swap out some parts, it’s yours. You can feel when I do this, right?”

    The glow dimmed. “…Not always...”

    Damnit. “But—but it’s yours, you’re…” How was he supposed to say this? How did he make him get it? “You’re you, Genos. Even—even if you get beat up and I have to carry you back ‘cause you lost your legs again, you’re you…”

    His cyborg looked away. “That’s…it, Sensei. The fact that I can lose every part of me—my legs, my hands, my torso—my core, my head…my face…” He held tighter and Saitama watched his core burn. “That…my brain could be put in another body, and technically nothing would have changed…”

    “Genos,” Saitama started, taking his cheeks in his hands, “Look at me.”

    He did, but his eyes were so dark he could barely make out the yellow.

    “I’m holding you, right now. Right?”

    A nod.

    “And you can hold me back, right?”

    A second nod, smaller than the last, and the fingers on his arm gripped harder.

    “And…I can hug you, and kiss you…and we can talk about nothing and have dinner and hunt down sales…” He couldn’t fight the tug at the corner of his lips. “…And we can go at it ‘til one of us passes out…right?”

    There was a grin. “Yes…”

    “Then why does that matter? You’re here, and I am too, so…” Geeze, what was he trying to say…? “So…it’s okay. It doesn’t matter what could happen, because…we’ve got this, right now. Does…does that make sense?” It was an honest question, it sounded like a bunch of bullshit to Saitama. God he was awful at explaining things…

    His disciple caved, cupping his hand over the one on his jaw. “I…think, Sensei,” he chuckled, glow coming back to his smile.

    Saitama could hear how unsure he was in that laugh, but…this was better, at least. “Wanna finish?”

    “Yes,” Genos nodded, handing him the rag.

    As the boy edged out the dirt in his knee caps, Saitama working at his hips, purposely spending a bit too long getting into the grooves between each plate. He heard the fans going before he saw the little smile widen.

    “I can reach those on my own, Saitama-sensei.”

    “Yeah…” He knew he liked how this felt, though.

    There was the tiniest hop in his fans before he slumped, laughing. “Sensei…you are insatiable.”

    “You’re one to talk,” he shot, splashing at him. “You’ve attacked me every night this week!”

    “Sensei is very attractive…”

    “W—Well…” Little flirt. “It’s bad, even for you. What’s gotten into you?” Seriously, though. Not that he’d mention it, but Saitama could smell the smoke when he’d come back from shopping, so he knew…the kid had kept himself busy while he was out. Which in itself was weird, Genos always wanted to…tag…

    …Wait. “Genos.” He’d been kinda…on edge, and then asking to visit Kuseno when he didn’t seem beat-up enough to need it… “Are you up to something?”

   His disciple’s eyes got so big they were almost perfect saucers. “…Why would you ask?”

   He totally was! “’Cause you’ve been acting real weird lately, and my birthday is coming.” What the hell was he planning? Was…

    Saitama’s cheeks burned before he could stop them. They’d never talked about it much, but…Genos had mentioned a few times that he could get—well, attachments…

    If any more emotions flashed over Genos’ face he might short-circuit. “I—am preparing.”

    Oh geeze was that it? “What?”

    Genos hid behind his shoulder as he focused on his shin guards. “It defeats the purpose of a surprise, Sensei, if you know what it is.”

    “…Are you—down there—“ He waved awkwardly to his hips, ‘cause damn, how else was he supposed to ask? “You don’t have to! I mean if you want to it’s totally fine but you don’t gotta do something like that I think you’re super-hot alrea—“

     A shy touch on his hand stopped him. It was a second before its equally shy cyborg followed it up with, “N…no, Sensei. It’s…not that.”

    That helped his blush a little, but… “Then what…?”

    The fans puffed and he went back to washing. “It is a surprise.”

    The water plunk, plunk, plunked into the tub as Saitama stared. “I’m lost.”

    “Good,” muttered the boy, “It means you won’t be able to guess.” He pulled back up and scanned over his body, eyes settling on his arms. He held one out to his teacher. “Could you…”

    Saitama nodded, doing his best to figure out what it could be as Genos popped open his armor. The last time he was this horny was…when they first started dating, and then a little before, but…to need a visit to Kuseno’s…

    “Could you start rinsing it, Sensei?”

   He blinked and saw Genos waiting in front of him, fans buzzing. “Y-yeah! Sorry, yeah.” It wasn’t a new body piece…and it wasn’t like he had toys he could test out to share…

    Or. Crap, could he? “Is it... Did you get, like…things for us to use?” There was the blush again. For shit’s sake, he was almost thirty. You would think he could mention a vibrator and not turn beet red.

    “I—I did not—purchase, no, I didn’t buy new items…”

    Wait. “New—like—do you have something now?”

    It was pretty neat to see the fans bust into overdrive when they were open, but that’s not what he was concerned about. “I’ve—I’m—“

    “Wait,” Saitama cried, “You have stuff and you haven’t told me about it?”

    They looked like a solid band of gray when they were spinning that fast. Their whine was the only sound he heard from the cyborg, though.

    “Can I…see it? When we’re done?”

    Blondie’s eyes burned bright enough that he could’ve burned a hole into the shower curtain. “May we finish this, Sensei?”

    Did his voice crack? “Alright,” he moped, squeezing out a slow ragful of water into the kid’s joints. “…Can I know what you have?”

    Genos opened his other arm and took a free washcloth, starting on it. Hefty chunks of dirt tumbled into the tub. “I apologize…Saitama-sensei…”

    “Huh?”

    He wouldn’t look up. “For…hiding them, from you.”

    “You don’t have to apologize… I’m just surprised you didn’t want me to use them on you.” Which…speaking of… “I don’t know much about those things, but…I’d learn, if you wanted me to.”

    How would it work? It’s not like he had…well, the normal holes, other than his mouth…and he couldn’t have anything for that alone, right? Maybe, like…those wands? But wouldn’t he lose some of the sensation through his plate? And whatever it was couldn’t be bigger than that or there’d be no way to hide it…

    Immediately Saitama was overwhelmed with the thought of Genos riding one of those giant vibrators he’d seen in promos, and he squeezed the washcloth so hard his fingers went through it.

    “Sensei?”

    He considered the brand new holes in the old fabric. “…I’d really love to see what you have. If you want me to.”

    They finished the bath in embarrassed silence, which would have been awful if it didn’t mean that Saitama got to hold his core as it had a fit again. He was seized with the same fear as last time—what if he dropped it, what if he bent it—but Genos trusted him so much, and watching it get all riled up as he cleaned out his chest (Saitama had to start aiming somewhere else) was so sweet. He gave it a few kisses, purely to watch it flare and twist and shine, and he could feel the heat pouring off of it.

   Geeze, was it cute…

    They both helped him towel off, Saitama sneaking touches here and there. He would have been less bold about it, but…well, the tiny smiles he got from the cyborg for it, or the giggles…and the playful touches back that were right on the edge of sexy…

    He didn’t go beyond that, though. He had that nervousness about him—he refused to meet his teacher’s stare, and he was twisting so most of his front was hidden…

    Saitama watched him dry his belly in the mirror, holding the towel in place across his hips. His hair was curling in the steam and his forehead creased as he focused. His neck shone, still a little wet, and water was trickling down the vents in his chest, along the bumps and coils on his side…

    “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled.

    Genos’ reflection gaped back. Gold glow bounced off the mirror and the man had to laugh, shielding his face as it dimmed. When he uncovered it he saw the blonde watching.

   “You…are kind…”

    “I’m honest,” Saitama corrected, planting a small peck on the dip at his shoulders. He could taste his shampoo.

    “Sensei,” he chuckled, pulling the towel close to his body.

    “Genos…”

    His student turned, finally looking him in the eye. A grin flickered across his face before he returned the kiss. “I still need to dry. Do you want to have some tea while we wait?”

    What he wanted was to pounce him right then and there, slippery tiles be damned. But…that’s not what Genos wanted. “Yeah, totally. You still like the blueberry?”

    He nodded, and they padded out of the room. After ten minutes of trying not to bust their asses on the ceramic floor and fumbling for a new bottle of honey, they were at the table blowing on their cups.

    “You said you wanted to go tomorrow, right?” Saitama asked. “When do you want to get up?”

    The kid took a moment. “Perhaps…seven. Our train will leave at nine, and our escort will be ready at ten thirty. I was hoping to arrive at Dr. Kuseno’s earlier than last time, in order that he may be able to get to bed at a reasonable hour following my check-up…”

    His voice dropped off after that, and Saitama had a feeling he knew why.

    “I forgot…to get something for Kikku…”

    …Oh. Right. The rocks… “Uh…” Did he keep that one… “Will anything work?”

    Genos tilted his head. “Well…it would need to be a stone, Sensei.”

    “Yeah, but…is any stone okay?” He got up and fumbled for the closet, hoping he could find the damned thing.

    “It simply needs to be a stone, Sensei… Why do you ask? Do you have one?”

    If he did, he would’ve slipped it in a pocket somewhere, but…damn, he had way too many coats and pants! Did he actually wear all these? “Well…maybe? I gotta… Found it!” The stone was tucked into the front pocket of his winter jacket. It’s not like he was hiding it exactly, it was just…kind of embarrassing. “I hope this is alright...”

    The blonde studied the tiny rock as it was passed over to him, eyes glowing the way they did when he saw something he didn’t recognize. “What is this, Sensei?”

    “I picked it off the beach when we went to the aquarium. I don’t think there’s anything special about it, but…yeah.”

    Genos was quiet for a while. “This is sea glass, Sensei.”

    “Oh?” Glass? Did that mean it wasn’t a gem? Man…he sucked at everything…

   He laughed. “It’s orange.”

   “…Yeah? Is that no good?”

    “Sensei…” He held it carefully, cradling it as he turned to his teacher. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? Orange sea glass is incredibly rare.”

    “Oh?” He didn’t know that…it looked like a plain old rock to him. “How…rare?”

    “It can take decades of searching for someone to find a piece like this.”

    “…Oh.” Wow… “Is it…is it worth a lot?”

    The boy looked back down. “I don’t know the appraisal value, Sensei. I’ve only heard of sea glass because of how frequently gem collectors mention it on different forums. I can research it for you, if you would like me to.”

    It was a lot harder to look away from the rock now. Yeah, of course he’d like the money, but...

    “Nah, don’t worry about it.” He wouldn’t let Genos visit empty-handed.

    The kid chewed his lip, unsure, but the fact that he handed already given it back said plenty.

    “You need something for your little sis, it’s alright. And she’d like that, wouldn’t she? It’s pretty.”

    Genos’ jaw dropped as he tried to answer, but all he gave was a nod and a soft, “Thank you.”

    Saitama grinned. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” Finally, he did something right. “I’m gonna get you another towel. I’m sure that one is cold by now.”

    “Sensei...it doesn’t matter.”

    “Sure it does.”

     It was an hour before Saitama could convince Genos he was dry enough to go to bed, and then he only got him to consider it by pulling the spare futon from the closet (it was the one with the singe marks, so water stains wouldn’t be a problem). As he rolled it out he got a couple half-hearted protests, most of them jumbles of sounds because of how tired his disciple was, and a few more mumbled into his shoulder while the cyborg powered down.

    Saitama wouldn’t last much longer. Genos’ chest was humming along, and he could hear the draft coming through the crack in the ceiling. It was a bit too warm under the blanket, but it was…nice. It was comfortable.

    …He never did get him to open up about the sex toy thing, or…much of anything else that was on his mind.

    He couldn’t see his body as his own, that’s all he said about it. He’d been so into their sessions, though, and he hadn’t called himself a machine for so long that Saitama figured…well, that he was getting past it. He tried to help him… He tried, all the time, to tell Genos the he was gorgeous, to let him know how crazy his teacher was about him…

    Heh. Same way he tried telling Saitama how amazing he thought he was. Guess he couldn’t blame Genos for not accepting compliments.

    The fans buzzed as he breathed, core sparking in the dark. Saitama pulled the covers tighter.

    He deserved to know, though. To know, and to believe him. He wished he could make him believe him…

    If he was better at telling him, maybe… Maybe he could make him…

    He could…help, better, if…if he could…

    …be…better…

    …for him…

~~~

    “I’m always happy to see you my boy, but…I’ll admit that I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”

    They were at the doctor’s kitchen table talking over coffee and stacks of mail. There were more magazines than last time, if that was possible…

    “I realized that it had been a long while since my last check-up, and my body’s performance was beginning to wane.”

    IEEE, Nuts and Volts, Air & Space…how many different subscriptions did he have?

    “Have you had a major failure recently? You seem to be in good shape. I haven’t gotten an emergency signals.”

     Annalen der Physik… What was that?

    “Nothing I could not fix myself, Doctor.”

    “Hm…I have to give it to you, Saitama.”

     The bald man jerked his head up, wincing when he felt the handle crack on his cup.

    Kuseno smiled on. “In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never been able to get Genos to take care of himself the way you have.”

    “Heh,” he laughed, nervous. “I, uh… Thanks.”

    He heard a harrumph next to him, and then, “I managed on my own.”

    The doc turned away and Saitama relaxed enough to feel the chipped ceramic come off in his palm. Breaking his dishes was not the way to get on Kuseno’s good side…

    “I needed to replace most of your body twice a week, Genos.”

    “I survived.”

    “’Surviving’ and ‘taking care of yourself’ are two different things… Right, Saitama?”

    He popped up from the cup again, trying to hide that he’d been fitting the pieces together. “Yeah! Totally.”

    Wait.

    “I mean,” he started, jerking over to Genos, “You did a good job! You made it. Not—you know, not without scratches, but who doesn’t? And you lost arms and legs, that’s way more badass than a tooth or some hair…” The kid wilted at that—shit—“Not—not that you’re weak! You’re really strong! You almost don’t need me saving you, at this point.”

     Wait.

    “Not that you needed me in the first place! And I mean I’ll alway—“

    Saitama was stopped mid bumbling (thank god) by an armored hand on his wrist. “I understand, Sensei. It’s alright.” From the look on Genos’ face, though…he’d definitely hit a chord…

    He was so frickin’ bad at this stuff. “…’Kay…”

    “Ah… Before I forget Genos,” Kuseno started, “Can you go talk to Chitose in BME? She’s been working on a new type of prosthetic and she wanted to hear about your experience with the early models we used for your arms.”

    Saitama’s heart flew into his throat. He’d…leave him?

    With the doc?

    “…Right now, Doctor?” He was suspicious of it too. “Could it not wait until tomorrow? We should begin the check-up as soon as possible…shouldn’t we?”

    Kuseno smiled. “It will only take fifteen minutes or so. She needs your advice before continuing, and she’s been waiting until she knows she can call you. Since you’re here, though, you can help her now.”

    Genos nodded slowly, pushing up from the table. “Al…right, then. I will see you soon.” He gave his teacher’s arm a small squeeze and a worried glance before walking off.

    Watching him go felt like watching a monster crash into his favorite dollar store.

    “So…how are you, Saitama?”

    …And this was like talking to the monster. “Al…right.”

    “…Have things gone well?”

    Not that Kuseno was anything but nice. He was a sweet old man, and he seemed to genuinely like Saitama (as weird as that was), but…

    “Yeah! Yeah, things are good.”

    “That’s good. I’m glad.”

     …But he treated Genos like a son, and talking to the (sorta) father of a boy that you screw so hard he cries would be intimidating no matter what. Add on that you two live together in a real shady area, and the boy has a knack for destroying himself, and you can crush diamonds in your hands if you’re not careful, and yeah you might be indestructible but if you didn’t keep him safe you knew said father would be furious and Saitama couldn’t forget that huge hunk of metal that looked a helluva lot like a bombshell he’d seen last time he was here—

    “Is the coffee alright?”

    “Yeah,” he chirped, gritting through another sip. It was way too strong. “It’s great, thanks.”

     Kuseno laughed, stretching his hand out. “You don’t have to hold the handle like that. I’ll throw it out for you.”

    Saitama wanted to melt into the floor. “A-ah…y-yeah, sorry… Um…” He handed (what was left) of the piece back, cheeks flaring up. “I’ll buy you a new one…if you want. Sorry…”

    It made a soft fwup as the doctor slipped it into his pocket. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve burned equipment that cost more than a house before—one cup isn’t a big loss.”

    “Really?” Saitama laughed, finding that hard to believe. He regretted it instantly. “I mean—sorry about that. That sucks.”

    The doctor chuckled along. “No, you should laugh, it was funny. That was a bad week…I managed to ruin months’ worth of research and potential progress with one dead timer, after breaking the test tube for one of my lead assistant’s chemical studies. We’ve long-since made up for it though.” He took a swig from his own cup and repositioned himself on his chair. “You can talk to me like you would a friend, you know. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

     The man’s insides may have already started to liquefy. “I’m not afraid of you…”

    Kuseno gave him an eyebrow quirk, and he had to wonder if Genos learned it from him or vice-versa.

    “Well… I mean…” White dust drifted onto his slacks from where he brushed the broken rim. “You’re not…scary, Doctor. It’s just…” He glanced up. “You look out for Genos, and you’re this super smart…scientist…engineer...and I’m a dumbass. I screw stuff up all the time.”

    “Really? Genos doesn’t seem to think so.”

    “Yeah,” he grumbled, “He thinks everything I touch is gold. I keep on telling him I’m not that great, but…he won’t believe me…”

    “That boy is very stubborn.”

    “Yeah…seriously. He’s always running around the house, cleaning or cooking or whatever, and when I ask him to relax for ten minutes he refuses. ‘His duty,’ he calls it, like that doesn’t make me feel like crap… It took years for him to start being safer in fights, even though I pretty much begged him six months in to take a minute before barreling into them…”

    The doc smiled across the table. “I know. Trust me… It’s no better when you’re trying to get him to stay in one piece so you can adjust his new defense system, or you have to have three weeks’ worth of data before you can tell if his shocks are working, but he can’t keep his legs on for more than a few days.”

    …Saitama tried to look like understood any of that.

    Kuseno waved his hand and went on. “He’s very headstrong.”

    “Yeah…”

    Saitama tracked the bubbles floating on the edge of his coffee. “…How did you deal with it?” he asked, surprised at how good it felt to talk like this. “How did you deal with…all the worrying? When he leaves on a mission…I can’t sit still for ten minutes because of how nervous I am.”

    The doctor stared at him, and he noticed for the first time how weathered his eyes were. He flipped the corners of some health magazine as he talked. “I suppose I have a bit of an unfair advantage there. Because I have a link to his body, I can tell when he’s under a particularly large amount of stress…” He coughed and continued, “And if it’s dangerous. Once it seems necessary, I can send out the drones to get him and I’ll know he’ll be safe at home soon. However…since I can’t tell what’s going on unless Genos opens his sensory channels to me, and he usually won’t do it because he thinks he can win the fight on his own… I worry a great deal.”

    “So how do you handle it?”

    Kuseno shrugged. “I do. That’s all you can do. I will add, though,” he pushed, leaning forward, “I have an easier time handling it now that I know he has you. You may think you’re a ‘dumbass,’ but you do a good job of protecting him. Thank you for that.”

    Saitama’s chest puffed like it’d been hooked up to a bike pump. “Oh… Uh… Thanks… I, um…” It meant a lot to hear that… “Thank you.”

    The doc nodded before shuffling a bit. “Speaking of stress, and purely for…calibration reasons… Did you two have trouble handling all of the, er…monsters you ran into during Golden Week?”

    …For…calibration? “Huh?” Saitama laughed. “What do you mean? We didn’t run into any, unless you’re talking about the fans.” They could be pretty monstrous on their own, honestly. Where did he get the idea tha—

    Oh.

    He…he said he could read stress levels, and—

    Oh…god.

    “I—That is—“ Ohshitohshitohshit— “I’m—that’s… We’re, we were, he, was—I always take care of him after, so—Not that we—“

    Saitama wanted to shrivel up and die at the shock that came into the doc’s eyes. “I…see. Okay. I only wanted to confirm that you two had indeed...fought that much.”

    He was going to upchuck. “I’m…I…”

    “Just…be careful with him during, ah…battle, yes? I know how strong you are, and while I do like you Saitama…” He didn’t have to look up for the B-class to feel the judgement blazing down on him. “I’ve been caring for him much longer than you have. I would be lying if I said I didn’t see him as family, and…I expect you to continue to look out for him the way you’ve been.”

    “Yes…sir…” Frick, this was a million times worse than his first date, and that girl’s dad had been a weapon collector.

    The old man let out a long breath. “There’s no way to avoid how awkward these conversations can be, is there?”

    That was for sure… “I don’t think so.”

    “For the record, I cannot always tell when he’s…overtaxed. It’s a log I have to purposely open, which I don’t do unless I’m checking in on his stats or expect him to be fighting.”

    “A-ah. That’s—well.” Where the hell was Genos? He wasn’t supposed to be gone this long!

    “…I am truly grateful for how you’ve helped him, though.”

    Saitama peered up, hoping he’d be at least a rosy pink rather than bonfire red. “…Oh?”

    Kuseno nodded. “Since I found him, I’ve been trying to convince him that there’s more to life than getting stronger and fighting. He was on…a bad path, for a long time. I had a reason to worry when he’d leave.” He tapped the side of his mug. “Then he met you, and…it’s helping him. When I used to talk to him about his plans for the future, they never went beyond getting revenge for his family. I don’t think he was able to see a point…” He smiled before he added, “But now, I can’t go two sentences into our conversations befo—“

    Heavy clomps and a burst of yellow floof at the door cut him off. “Ms. Hibiya had quite a few questions for me, Doctor. Why did you not tell her to call me earlier? I would have been happy to help.”

    Saitama must’ve looked like a strawberry Hi-chew.

    “Ah…I suppose I’d forgotten, my boy.”

    The cyborg clearly wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “…Before we begin with my tune-up, may I introduce Saitama to some of the staff? I remembered that I did not do that last time and…I should have.”

    Man had that been awkward. It was while since he felt as out of place as he did during their last visit. He wandered the rooms aimlessly, giving uncomfortable greetings to the people he ran into. He didn’t know how to introduce himself… Genos’ teacher? Roomate? He’d say ‘boyfriend,’ but…what if they were protective of him, or didn’t know…

    “Of course, please do. Saitama, it was good to talk to you.”

    “Yeah, you too… Doctor.” …If by “good” he meant “so awful you wanted to kick it.”

    “Sensei,” Genos mumbled, taking his hand and pulling him along. Saitama could hear the question in his voice before he asked it in the hallway. “What did you two discuss?”

    Our raging sex drives. “Uh… You, mostly.”

    “Oh? May I ask how?”

    Only if Saitama could figure out how to answer… “Well… We talked about how nervous we get about you, and then…” This felt…dirty, in a weird way. It was like he was spilling secrets. “Kuseno’s a good guy.”

    Genos led them into a massive room that was way too bright. “Yes, I’m aware. What makes you say that?”

    “He loves you a lot.”

    The fans burbled on next to him. “…Yes…”

    Saitama squeezed his hand. “He wants me to look out for you.”

    “Hm.” That smile was so pretty on him… “He won’t be disappointed. Mr. Srini,” he started, walking Saitama towards a tech fiddling with a huge, blue turbine (that’s what those engine things were called, wasn’t it?). “If you have a moment?”

    Mr. Srini straightened at the desk. “Sure Genos, what’s up?” Saitama wasn’t over how odd it was to hear other people call him ‘Genos’…

    “I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend and teacher, Saitama-sensei. He is also known by the hero name Caped Baldy. Sensei, this is Anay Srini. He’s the director of our aerial department.”

    Ah…there was the flush again. “Hey,” he mumbled, bowing lightly. “It’s just…Saitama. Nice to meet you.”

    The director bowed back. “Nice to meet you too. It’s good to see you face-to-face, I think I missed you last time.”

    Oh thank god, he didn’t make a fool of himself then. “Yeah, probably.”

    Anay (was that it?) laughed. “Geeze, it’s nice to know it finally happened. This one talks about you nonstop when he’s here,” he teased, pointing at Genos.

    A hum came from next to him. “I—Well. Thank you, Mr. Srini. Good luck with the combustors.”

    “Thanks, dude. I’ll figure it out eventually…”

    They walked to an older guy in the far corner, the vents still going. “Mr. Soldano? May I interrupt your work?”

    Oh no. When he said “some” of the staff…

    “Of course Genos. Is something the matter?”

    “Yes. I’d like to introduce you to Saitama-sensei. He’s my boyfriend and teacher…”

    …did he mean everyone?

    About forty-five minutes and a dozen “it’s about time” jokes later, they’d explored the kitchen and reached the other side of the lab.

    Saitama started sweating ten minutes in. “Genos, we don’t gotta talk to all the people here. I think I know enough of them to get along…”

    The boy shook his head, staring straight ahead. “I left you without any sort of care or guidance last time. That will not happen again.”

    “I was okay…” He’d been uncomfortable, sure, but it’s not like he was dying from neglect. He checked things out to pass the time—all the funky-shaped flashlights that were in the one room, and that giant locker stuffed with different versions of Genos’ body (he would be lying if it didn’t give him some…ideas…and if those ideas didn’t make him feel like a total creep right after).

    “It will not happen again,” he urged, and they walked into what had to be a weapons lab, what with the used targets and shot-up mannequins. This room was stuffed with people but Genos made a beeline for one in particular. “Ms. Koyoma,” he called, and she jumped.

    There was no way Saitama could hold back the frown when she turned around. “Hey Genos! And Mr. Saitama, hi!”

    The blonde glanced between the two. “You have met already?”

    Saitama kept on glaring. “No.”

    He could hear the confusion in Genos’ question, but he wouldn’t let up. Not with this chick. “Ah… Well, I wanted to formally introduce you. Saitama-sensei, this is Katsuko Koyoma. She is the lead of the explosives department and one of the most brilliant engineers in the field. Ms. Koyoma, this is my boyfriend and teacher, Saitama-sensei…though you seem to know that already.”

    The B-class gave the shortest bow he could manage. He remembered her alright—this was the girl that was checking out Genos’ ass last time. “Hey.”

    She bowed like she didn’t want to pick up the cyborg and stomp out of the room with him. “Hello, Saitama! It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

    “Sensei, beneath Dr. Kuseno Ms. Koyoma is the most revered technician here. He considers her his protégé.”

    She waved him off. “Genos, please, it’s alright. You don’t have to say all that.”

    This felt…familiar. In a bad way. “Yeah?”

    “Yes,” Genos gushed. “She has made several discoveries in weapons development that have made operation and production safer for hundreds of people. She is also responsible for some of my most effective upgrades.”

    “Yeah?” Saitama asked, finally meeting the girl’s eyes. He wasn’t challenging her, not exactly, but…he didn’t mean it in a friendly way.

    “Indeed. She is truly amazing.”

    “Genos, please. Stop.”

    Yeah. He could stop as soon he wanted.

     “Kuseno could not have placed my well-being in better hands.”

    “Wait, what?” The man blanched, “What do you mean?”

    Genos motioned towards the girl (she didn’t look older than 20—she couldn’t possibly have done all that!). “Kuseno decided that, should something happen to him, Ms. Koyoma would take over his position as my caretaker.”

    “Oh?” This time he was definitely challenging her.

    She answered it with these irritating giggles. “I’m proud that he did, and all I can hope is that I do as good a job as he does, if need be. Genos’ body is a miracle in engineering! That’s a lot to live up to.”

    Okay they could both stop with the complimenting thing! “Yeah, it’s amazing.”

    His student turned to him to whisper, “…Sensei?”

    “How long have you worked here?” Saitama asked, doing his best to sound calmer than he was. His “body was a miracle”…he was sure she thought so!

    “Hm…eleven, twelve years? I interned during college and stuck around! Kuseno is such a great mentor and associate.”

    Saitama stewed. “You look good for your age.”

    She laughed, but his hero only frowned. “Thank you! Once you get as old as me, hearing that gets rarer and rarer! Christmas cakes and all that.”

    So she was single. And the same age as Saitama.

    And way closer to Genos than he’d thought anyone other than Kuseno could be. “You’ll be fine.” He’d never called someone pretty so aggressively before…

    “Thank…you?”

    “Saitama-sensei.” It was rare the cyborg looked at him like he was now…

    “Genos.” …But it was rare he talked to someone the way he talked to this girl too.

    Genos pouted for half-a-second more before turning away. “Thank you, Ms. Koyoma. I will leave you to your work now.” He took the man’s hand and lead him back into the hallway. Saitama didn’t turn away until he was positive that chick kept her eyes off his boyfriend’s butt as he left.

    “Sensei.”

    He couldn’t look up from the dirty gray floor in the corridor. “What?”

    “…Why were you so rude to Ms. Koyoma?”

    He shuffled. “I wasn’t that rude.”

    “Sensei.”

    Stupid…scientist… “That was the one that checked you out last time.”

    His student guffawed. “Saitama-sensei… I’ve known her for my entire stay here. I highly doubt she’s attracted to me, and if she was watching me, it was merely to check that my body was moving correctly.”

    Yeah, right. You don’t bite your lip the way she did because you got some new info to write down. “She likes you.”

    There was a pause. “…Is this…jealousy, Sensei?”

    He quietly fumed. “…She likes you.” That dumb…accomplished…successful… “She likes you, and…she’s pretty.”

    “…Sensei…”

    “…And really smart. And has hair.”

    “Saitama-sensei…” A hand wound through his own.

    “…And you two know each other really well…”

    There was a kiss on his cheek. “Saitama,” he breathed, “You have no reason to be jealous.”

    His skin burned where Genos touched it. “I…I can’t compete with that, if…”

    This time the kiss hit him straight on the mouth. “You will never need to compete with anyone for my affection, but I can guarantee that you would win each time.” The cyborg waited for his teacher to stare back until he continued, “If we returned, would you be more civil with her? She will almost definitely become a big part of my life…our life...and it would be best that you two are on good terms.”

    Huh… “Our life’”…

    That sounded so nice…

    …She was still a jerk. “…Alright…”

    They made their rounds through the rest of the department (Saitama giving the most unapologetic apology ever along the way) and went over to the place where Genos got fixed up. Saitama said his goodbyes—not that he wanted to leave, but his disciple didn’t seem like he wanted him to stick around—and let the big metal door close behind him with an overwhelming clang.

    It echoed in the empty hall, drowning out his sigh. He tried to remember the way to Genos’ room and started walking.

    It was just as lonely the second time. Kuseno lived here, he knew that, but…it was first and foremost a lab. The walls were cold and white, and the lights that came on as passed under them made him feel... robotic, like he was part of the wiring that made them go off. …That was a weird thought, though, he was probably tired.

    He walked through the halls, making his way towards that bizarre sleep cell (poor kid…), the bathroom…and finally blondie’s room. He’d told him to hang out here if he wanted, and it was a way better option than sitting in the kitchen for however long his check-up would take.

    You had to turn these lights on with a switch.

    …Man, he’d forgotten how packed this place was. There were the notebooks right in the middle of the room, taking up a quarter of the space. He had a computer desk against the one wall, and all the cubbies in it were jammed with—what were those, toys? Next to it was his dresser, and on the other side of the room was his closet and another table covered with all kinds of drills and screws and plates and wires…

    But the boxes and the bags—there were so many of them! Bags from department stores and dollar stores, bags from electronics stores (he could see the packaging peeking out), bags with shoes and pants and socks…

    Psh…what a dork, with his socks. He went over to one bag in particular, and…were those red socks? With ducks on them?

    As he sifted through them, he couldn’t stop grinning. Rainbow stripes, turtles and goats, pink with frills… He laughed when he found the ones with a cape attached. Did he buy these? They were cute…

    He took his hand back and kept on looking around the room, reading the small labels on the boxes against the wall. “Legs—2006,” “Optics—2008,” “Physical Therapy”…

    Saitama stared at the last one. It was a giant box, one of those ones you need special ordered. He didn’t think about it much, but…that first year must have been awful…

    He scanned over the rest. “Bioengineering Companies—2006-2009,” “Legs-2010,” “Straps,” “Arms-2009,” “Therapists,” “Cups,” “Canons-March 2006-November 2006,” “Plushies”—

    Hold on, “plushies”? He had a box of plushies?

    As he read more of the labels, though, he saw more of the same—“Dolls-DAMAGED,” “Misprints,” “Hats,” “Totes”... Were they things he couldn’t fit on the shelves?

    Saitama made a careful way over to the computer desk to see what was there, and…

    …Well. He should’ve expected this.

    Him. It was dozens and dozens of collectibles of him—charms and shot glasses and coasters and pens, all of them with his stupid face plastered across the front.

    A little bell jingled on charm when he picked it up. It was him with a pair of cat ears…

    He looked through the rest of them, not wanting to move anything else and mess up the display Genos set up. It’s not like he minded, necessarily (although he didn’t have to look so derpy), but shouldn’t someone have asked him about making stuff like this? Who’d even want it?

    Saitama peeked at the boxes behind him. Who, besides Genos.

    At least a few of them were pretty cute. There was this chibi-style doll that had him with a shopping bag, and it was real high quality. What he liked better, though, was the matching Genos doll that was next to it—they got his scowl down perfectly. It was the only piece of merch that the kid had of himself here.

    That one Saitama picked up, checking out all the joints and clothes. He wished he’d known this existed, he would’ve tried to get it. He still had no idea where Genos stashed that plush a fan sent him for his birthday…

    When he backed away he hit something hard, and he had a split-second panic attack about breaking something. When he spun around, though, it was one of those picture frames that looked more like a box hanging on the wall…

    …Was that a shirt in it?

    Saitama leaned closer to the glass, and…yeah, it was. It was filthy though, the dark blue covered in stains and soot, and it was torn up, like it’d been slashed to pieces. He couldn’t make out much else though. It was carefully pinned to the board on the back…

    He stared at it a little longer, and it hit him that the dark brown spots weren’t mud or dirt. He knew that brown, he’d needed to wash it out of his suit countless times.

    It was blood.

    Saitama’s shoulders might’ve turned to lead for how heavy got. The shirt was probably…from the attack…

    He looked at it for a few more moments, all of a sudden feeling like shit for having looked at anything at all. This place…it was Genos’, not his. Even if Genos told him to go in here, this was still his room…

    …Saitama always forgot how young he was.

    The longer he spent in the room, the more it sunk in. The walls were a pale yellow, and the carpet was a deep navy. It was the single part of the lab that looked like a home, that looked lived in…and other than how neatly the stacks were organized, it was apparent it was owned by a teenage boy. The collectibles, the gadgets, the clothes spread out over every surface…

    Saitama turned to look at the desktop and saw a pair of over-the-ear headphones (red and yellow) on top of a mouse pad (it said “CAPED BALDY”). Old Post-its were on the wall behind it—“research adhesive,” “crab udon,” and one with a sketch of an egg—put there the same way Saitama had left himself notes in high school.

    …If things had gone the way they should have, Genos would be getting out of college now…

    He picked up the little blonde figurine again, running his fingers down the shiny arms. “On a bad path” was how Kuseno described him in the kitchen. That before he met his teacher, ”he didn’t see a point” in thinking about his future…

    Saitama got it, he did. He really, really did. Not being able to imagine a year ahead, a week, a few days. Not wanting to, because what you’ve had up until that point couldn’t be worse. But…

    …He was an adult when he got to that point. Genos was barely into his teens. There was…so much he might not have got the chance to do, stupid stuff like staying at a party too long or finding the cute girls at a festival. He didn’t get to graduate… He didn’t even know what a club looked like until Saitama brought him to one…

    The permanent scowl made sense.

    …And…it meant all that much more that Saitama had been watching it fade over the past few months. Not disappear entirely, that was probably impossible, but…ease up. And when he’d be talking to his sensei, a lot of times it wouldn’t be there at all. Instead it was this tiny smile, so small you wouldn’t notice it unless you’d spent as long looking at him as Saitama did…

    …He hoped the tune-up would be done soon, ‘cause he needed to smother the kid with snuggles.

    The computer chair groaned as he plopped in it and swiveled around, trying to shake up the fog that settled in his belly. After a few minutes he pulled out his phone, not wanting to snoop more than he already had. Once he sent as many text as he could—which meant one to King, and one to Mumen—he sat.

    He tried counting the journals and got to thirty-six before he stopped.

    He watched the clock tick over into three fifteen and stood up.

    Wandering around for a while wouldn’t be so bad. …He figured.

    …He was so wrong.

    Now that everyone knew him, all they wanted to do was talk to him. They came at him like he was some exotic circus animal and harangued him with questions:

    “Are you the cook in the house, or is Genos?”

    “What’s hero work like? Have you been interviewed too?”

    “I’ve never seen him laugh so much! What are you doing to him?”

    None of them were mean, it was all good-natured…except for a few that seemed awful fixated on Genos’ stories of him going to the moon or punching through mountains, he was getting some creepy vibes from those guys. No matter what they were looking for, though…why wouldn’t they leave off him? He couldn’t walk ten steps without having some other tech ask him what Genos was like when they were at home. It was worse than when he needed to fumble through small talk during the last visit.

    At around five he snuck some cereal from the kitchen, ate it mortified as someone tried to go into their work on prosthetic sex organs with him (didn’t they hear Genos say, “This is my boyfriend”?!), and fled into the kid’s room. After hunting down a set of sweats—he didn’t want his dress pants to get wrinkly—he snuck over to the big metal door to where he was getting worked on and huddled into the corner.

    …Yeah. This was as bad as last time. It was what, almost six? He’d started a little after two… Maybe he’d be done soon, he didn’t have a big injury when he went in there. Saitama could make out clicks and whirs from inside the door, but other than steps in the distance (he got the feeling no one went in here except for Genos and Kuseno), it was quiet.

    His clothes slid against the cold metal walls as he nuzzled into them, getting as comfortable as he could. A nap seemed like the best route, since there wasn’t anything else to do while he waited.

    And waited…

    …and waited…

    …The best route, that was, until something started brushing his cheek. It felt nice and all but he’d just started getting into a deep sleep… “Hold on…”

    It kept on going, and trailed down to his shoulder. “Sensei…”

    Saitama opened his eyes to his hero smiling down at him, hair glowing in the bright lights all around.

    “You did not have to wait here…”

    He was so pretty… “Genos… Done?” His shoulders popped as he stretched, pushing himself off the ground. He must’ve gone out for longer than he thought…

    “Yes, Sensei.”

    “Did it go…good…” He was naked again.

    “Yes. My body has been comp—Sensei?” he bubbled, confused by the sweater that was plopped over his head.

    The (now sweater-less) man focused on the dark labs down the hall. “Your clothes.”

    “Sensei… I have told you, they don’t see me that way.” He gave the shirt a once-over before pulling it as far down as it would go, and commenting, “Besides…do you not think this is more suggestive, Sensei?”

    He looked out of the corner of his eyes, and…well shit.

    “I agree.”

    Saitama tried to rub away the red in his face. It was big, but only big enough to barely reach his thighs… “Mm…”

    The cyborg slipped out of the top, adding it to the bundle of clothes in his elbow, and took his hand.

    “You look good,” he commented, watching the way the lights slipped down his newly polished back. All his plates were shiny and smooth and buffed… “…I mean you always look good, but…”

     The fans gave a gentle spin. “Thank you…Sensei…”

    He was quiet as they went back, quiet enough that Saitama had time to get pissed off at that chick again. If she saw him like this…

    ...Saitama sighed. He was being a jackass. “Sorry, kid…”

    “Sensei?” The blonde turned, looking genuinely confused. “Why are you sorry?”

    His teacher held on tighter. “I’ve been a jerk this whole trip.”

    Genos opened his mouth to answer right away, and then stopped. He blinked and thought before answering, “You have been…defensive of me, perhaps. And yes, you were rude to some of Kuseno’s associates. But…” He squeezed back. “It was not for the whole trip, and I understand why you’ve been doing it.”

    Guilt simmered down into his belly. He didn’t see him blow off half of the guys that tried to talk to him tonight. “…I’m not great with people. ”

    The clacks of metal feet echoed through the lab. There were a few stragglers wandering around, and Saitama didn’t miss the stares they got as he was pulled, still topless, by his boyfriend, still naked, into his room. How could Genos not see them?

    “You’re better with people than you think, Sensei,” he told him, opening the door to his room. He reached for the light before he noticed it was already on. “Why did you not wait in here, Sensei?”

    Saitama looked around, remembering how sad it made him before. “…I kinda felt like I was intruding.”

    Genos laughed. “How, Sensei? I asked you to go in here. You were the opposite of an intruder.”

    Watching him step over and inspect the notebooks was…oddly nostalgic. He moved with an ease he’d only seen from him at the apartment, but that made sense. This was his home.

     His…first home.

    It made the guilt bubble down into a pit, and Saitama wanted to gut himself. This wasn’t even jealousy, this was…what, fear? Loneliness?

    “I need to rent a storage unit soon… These will only continue to take up space.”

    When he turned to hear what his teacher thought about that…he stopped. “Sensei?”

    Saitama was so bad at hiding his emotions… “Yeah?”

    Genos ran a hand along the notebook on one of the stacks as he scanned the room. Then he plopped his clothes into the hamper, walked over to a blanket the man hadn’t seen before, and laid it down in front of the closet, patting it.

    Saitama sat beside the cyborg, watching the way he leaned up against the wall, as natural as can be.

    “Is something wrong?” he offered, fingers winding through Saitama’s. His “Feeling-Like-Shit” meter sky-rocketed.

    He studied the blanket—a deep, worn out red, with charred edges. It was old. “I guess.”

    “Saitama…”

    That stare was burning into his skull. “I’m…out of place, here. And you’re…not.” He sounded like a fucking child…

    “…What do you mean, Sensei?”

    What did he mean? “It’s…well, everyone knows you here, Genos. Really knows you. You have friends and people you’ve talked to for years… You have this whole life here, and…” His hand closed over his disciple’s. “I’m not part of it. I guess…that’s what’s bothering me. …I think.”

    …That wasn’t it, though. There was something else…

    Genos looked confused. “You are jealous…of here?”

    “No,” Saitama muttered, shaking his head, “It’s not—that’s not it. That’s why I’m jealous, I think, but it’s… I’m alone here, and you’re the only person I know, but you know everyone… And when you leave it smacks me in the face…”

    The blonde’s mouth dropped. “…Oh.”

    “What?” His eyes had gotten brighter, and his shoulders squared off. “What? What did I say?”

    He stayed quiet for a few more moments, and gave this shuddery sigh.

    …Wait, was he gonna cry? “Genos, no, please, you didn’t do anything—I’m sorr—“

    In a second he was being crushed into a vibrating chest plate, heat pouring off of it. “Kid?”

    “I love you, Saitama.”

    He started to answer, but…damn, that hit him a lot harder than normal…

    “I love you, and I won’t leave you.”

    …Huh? “What are you talking about?”

    Genos pulled back, not looking him in the eye at first. “Saitama-sensei… You are telling me you feel lonely when I am not around, because you don’t feel connected to anyone else.”

    “Yeah…”

    “…And that I seem much closer to others than you are.”

    “…Yeah…” What was he getting at?

    Padded fingertips pressed into his ribs. “I…I love you, more than I can explain. I will always love you that way. I will always be there for you.”

    Each sentence landed like a warhead to the heart, but… “Where is this coming from? What did I say?”

    “I adore you…”

    …Guess he wasn’t gonna get an answer… “You…too, Genos…”

    He hugged him in silence for a bit, and while it was weird it was also…nice. The things he’d said…even if they didn’t make sense…they helped whatever this was. It softened it a little…

    …to know…

    “…May I admit something to you, Sensei?”

    “What?” he asked, hefting out of his thoughts. “If it’s that you have a collection of my stuff over there—“ He waved at the computer—“I kinda saw them before…”

    Genos laughed. “No, Sensei. That isn’t it. It’s…more personal than that.”

    The dark picture frame on the wall next to it stood out like police tape, and Saitama’s stomach turned again. “Wait, kid—hold on. Before you do, I, um…” He was pathetic. “I was looking around…before. I didn’t move anything! But, y’know…I saw the socks in that bag, and the boxes…” He gripped the cyborg’s waist. “And the shirt.”

    The boy was quiet for a while, and Saitama was getting ready to hear the steeliness that came into his voice when he’d screwed up bad…

    “I expected you to.”

    …But he wasn’t ready for that. “Huh?”

    The core burned on under his chin. “I would not have asked you to wait in my room had I wanted to hide something from you, Sensei.” Another pause, and then, “Do you have questions about what you found?”

    Oh…well… “I gotta know about the socks. Who got them for you?”

    “Which ones, Sensei? I store extra clothes here so that I may easily replace those that are destroyed in battle.”

    Saiama grinned. “That bag that has all the pattern sets in it. Why don’t you wear them?” He hugged him closer. “They’d look cute on you.”

    “O-oh. Right. Yes.” The buzz bumped up a notch. “It was a group gift one year, for my birthday. Some of the interns noticed I had a habit of wearing socks, and they decided each member of the staff should get me a pair. I’ve…not yet gathered the courage to try on most of them.”

    Saitama dotted a peck on his collarbone. “Bring them home this time. You can use them around the apartment.”

    “If you insist, Sensei…” He was real warm…Saitama could fall asleep right here… “Did you have any other questions?”

    …Just one. “Can I ask…about the shirt?”

    The flares from his core were blinding. “…What would you like to know?”

    “Is it from…then?”

    Genos’ fingers drifted over his arms, pulling him closer. “…Yes.” His voice was so soft… “Is that all?”    

    Well… “…Whose was it?”

    The seam between his pecs stretched as he sighed. “My father’s. He… My father was the only one in my family not…”

    Saitama shifted so he could kiss his jawline, gently.

    He went on. “The entire town was ravaged, including me. I was just…one of the handful that didn’t die from my injuries. My father was…untouched enough…that I could pull him from the wreckage…” The plating cut into Saitama’s skin. “…In one piece.”

    …Fuck.

    “The shirt he was wearing…it was one of the few things they could recover from the site. Everything else was little more than an ember.” He was locked onto the picture frame, staring like it was trying to have a conversation with him. “…I chose not to clean it, before I hung it. I wanted…to remember…”

    Saitama followed his eyes, imagining what it must have been like to walk past that each day after…all the shit that happened to him…

    “Okay,” he hushed, squeezing him as hard as he could without leaving dents. “Thank you…for telling me.”

    Genos didn’t answer, but the fingers on Saitama’s back would leave bruises if he could get them.

    They were both silent for a while, until Genos piped up, a little quieter this time, “May I tell you what I wanted to say before?”

    Saitama straightened until he was level with his head. “Yeah, of course.”

    He melted into one of those smiles that made his teacher wonder how he didn’t fall in love with him the moment he saw him. “This,” he started, rubbing down Saitama’s spine, “Is something I dreamed about…for a long time, Sensei.”

    “…Us being together?”

    There was that smile again…but he was hiding behind his bangs, like he was embarrassed about it. “Well, yes, but not that specifically. This,” he pushed, nodding at the blanket. “You, being here…with me.”

    “Oh man, kid…” Heat pooled at the tips of Saitama’s ears. “You should’ve aimed higher…”

    Genos nudged his shoulder. “Sensei, that’s absurd. I aimed for the moon and I caught it.”

    Oh. Oh well, it’s not like that made his heart skip a beat. Not at all.

    “But…before we were together, and when I would need to stay for repairs…I would think of you, right here,” he said, hand brushing against the floor. “It was where I would read, or study, or…once I’d met you…where I would daydream…”

    It totally wasn’t like his heart as playing hopscotch. “About me? I’m not that exciting…”

    Genos let out a burst of a laugh. “I beg to differ, Sensei.” He turned to the closet behind him, inspecting the runner as he talked. “I didn’t know how to handle it, at first. It had been so long since I was interested in anyone…it took me at least a month to recognize it. It was another two before I could no longer convince myself I was simply enamored with your strength and ability.” He sighed. “I would sit here, Sensei, with a book or a report, and do everything in my power to focus…and inevitably end up thinking of you.”

    Or that his heart was doing the frickin’ Riverdance holy crap. “What, ah…What about?” He was setting himself up here, but…he had to know…

    “Truly, Sensei? Often it was simply…this.” His hair tickled as he tucked his head into Saitama’s shoulder. “Holding you, or being held. Talking freely…cuddling… I wanted it so bad it ached, and on more than one occasion I asked Kuseno to check that there wasn’t anything impeding my core’s normal regulatory actions.”

    “Oh my god…” He took a newly-buffed fist and kissed one of the knuckles, softly. “You are such a sap.”

    “That wasn’t all I thought about,” he shot. “I may be sentimental, but that doesn’t mean I’m less…virile… At least I wasn’t, not after I had made the realization.”

    “What’s that mean?”

    The fans hummed. “After my transition, I did not… I had very little interest in…carnal activities….until I met you.”

    That he understood. “Ah-h…is that so?”

    His cyborg sounded like a mini-windfarm. “Yes…and I am embarrassed now to admit I didn’t make the connection right away. I had assumed the increase in my libido was a direct correlation to how relaxed I could be at home knowing you would protect us from all threats, or that it was in response to the new and exciting discoveries I was making as I studied how you fought, or the change in lifestyle or scenery or…”

    His toes curled. “I’d never felt so strongly about someone before. I’d…I’d…” He’d titled his head so Saitama couldn’t see his face, but there was no way he could hide the glow from his eyes. “I had…masturbated before, as a stress reliever or to induce sleep, and I thought of others when I did it, but…the first time I thought of you…”

    …Was Genos’ chest really that hot?

    “I hadn’t experienced…anything like that, before. I’m not sure even my first orgasm was as intense and satisfying as that one was.”

    Saitama squeezed his thigh. “…Are you alright telling me this? You don’t have to. If this is, y’know…a guilt thing…”

    The blonde shook his curls, and they fluttered against his cheek. “No, it isn’t.” Looking up he added, “Is it making you uncomfortable? I will not go on…”

    “No! No, it’s…” Saitama shuffled in his seat, glad he’d put on the briefs today. “It’s probably making me more turned on than it should, but I’m not bothered. I just feel bad.”

    “Why?”

    “It’s…personal, you know? If it’s something you want to keep to yourself, you don’t need to feel like you have to tell me.” He thought about sharing the first time he’d fapped to his student, and he wasn’t two seconds in before his intestines started doing jumping jacks. “It’s alright if you don’t want to.”

    The boy settled back down. “No… It’s relieving, in a way. To let you know. …Oh,” he cut, hopping up and sliding the closet door open. “I wanted to show you—“ As he rifled through the dark, Saitama peeked in and saw…

    …Some things…

    “…Is that a body pillow of me?”

    The shiny chrome butt wiggling next to him froze. “…Perhaps.”

    Saitama took a closer look. “And…are those… Is this your porn stash?” The magazines in that one box were definitely covered with naked guys, and…was that a tentacle manga?

    The fans were screeching at this point. “Um…”

    “Dude, what do you have? I know you’ve seen mine.” He waited for Genos to move to the side before he ducked his head in. “Yo, is that One Self? That one’s great…Oh! Those too—uh… That’s the series with the cute alien chicks, right?” It’s not like he got too turned on by this shit anymore, but it was exciting to see Genos with it hidden away (body pillow aside). And though there was mostly BL stuff in there… “I didn’t know you were that into girls.”

    He kept on digging past a couple duffle bags, zipping and unzipping them. “I told you, Sensei—I am into both, it doesn’t much matter to me. Especially not now…” As he rifled through he knocked one of the boxes over, and…

    Wait. Waitwaitwaitwait. “Is that me?”

    He hadn’t seen blondie move that fast since his street fight with Sonic. “It’s—that’s—“

    Saitama craned his neck, and in the dark he could see… “Under it too—kid, is that entire box me? How—why is there so much?”

    Genos hovered, one hand glued to the box and the other in a bag. “That’s—um. I. Well, Sensei, I’m… There is only so much online pornography can do, and…and there’s… If an artist offers a service you need and can more than pay for, then…”

    …Artist? “…Did you pay people to make porn of me?”

    So that’s what it looked like when a cyborg tried to shrink. “I…may have…Saitama-sensei…”

    The man stared at the box, wondering if he honestly wanted to know what was inside it. “…You asked them to make all of that?” It wasn’t the biggest in the world, but it looked like each protector only had one pic in it and it was filled to the top…

    Genos sighed, picking a few of them out. “…I commissioned a great deal Sensei, but no, it was far from all of these.”

    Saitama looked at them and—

    Holy crap they made his dick massive.

    “It was…a bit of a phenomenon. I asked a couple of well-known artists to create the art, and once they had a moment to study and appreciate you, they ended up doing so on their own…which of course earned the attention from their fans, who in turn made their own art…”

    He was about to ask about this secret following he apparently had until he spied a silver arm in one of the shots. “Is that us?”

    “Yes,” he cried, downright giddy. “Yes indeed, Sensei.” He pulled it out of its sleeve and Saitama noticed two things—first, that it was a comic, and second…that it was totally worn out.

    “You liked that one…”

    Smoke started to seep from his screeching shoulders. “…For obvious reasons, Sensei.” He passed it over, explaining that, “I did not commission this one, nor did I have a hand in it. A fan of mine saw how frequently we were together, and rather than disliking you for it ended up becoming one of your fans as well. It led her too…well, it is called ‘shipping,’ apparently, when you pair people together based on how well you believe they match up.” The shine from his eyes bounced off the cover. “She couldn’t have been more right… Anyway, she specializes in erotic art and sent me this to show her support for both of us.”

    Saitama would’ve answered, but…he was a little occupied. And by a little he meant a lot.

    And by occupied he meant he was doing his best to calm his raging fucking boner.

    It was a forty-four page comic about him railing his disciple in probably every position under the sun. It was…damn, it was hot as all hell. Oral, anal, sixty-nining, facials, dirty talk…this girl had everything in here.

    “It’s good, isn’t it? Not many artists interpret me as the receiver.”

    She made Saitama look like a total stud… Genos was gorgeous, but that was the way it should’ve been. “Yeah…shit…” He flipped through some more of the pages, fighting the urge to rub one out right there. “Can we…uh… Are you alright bringing this back with us too?”

    The smoke flooded the closet. “Of…course. Of course, Saitama-sensei.” He sat back beside him, waving his hand through the fog. “I didn’t think…you’d be so open to seeing yourself portrayed that way.”

    “I didn’t either, but geeze, look at me,” he pushed, pointing at a shot where he was particularly buff. “She drew me like some god or something.”

    A hand ran up his thigh. “That’s because she was drawing you accurately, Sensei.”

    “Kid, I’m three seconds away from jumping you.”

    His answer was the smallest squeeze and a smile. “What I wanted to show you…was this.”

    When he pulled his hand from the closet he dragged…a bear with it? Wasn’t that…

    “Do you remember this?”

    Saitama took it when it was offered to him, struck by how soft it was. “…Isn’t this the bear I got you?” The wispy fur was fused together at some spots—it must not’ve been able to handle the heat from Genos’ palms—but the green bow hadn’t faded at all.

    “Yes. I was ashamed to have you see me holding it at the apartment, so I brought it here.” He played with its back. “Unfortunately I have damaged it in some parts…”

    Saitama turned it around to see a bald spot here and there. Poor guy…he knew the feeling…

    “The fur caught in my joints on several occasions, and while I could usually ease it out, there were times when there was no way to save him.”

    “’Him’?” He had to make fun, just a little. “Does he have a name?”

    The fans revved. “…No.”

    “…Is that the truth?”

    They revved harder. “…No…”

    The man studied the teddy. “You didn’t name him ‘Saitama,’ right? He doesn’t look like a Saitama to me.”

    His cyborg giggled (when would that stop making his chest seize up?) and rubbed its foot. “Most certainly not, Sensei. And besides, had I named him after you, it would have been Saitama-sensei.”

    “So what’s his name?”

    Genos got quiet again. “…You may not make fun of me for it.”

    “I won’t, I promise.” When the quiet went on, he added, “Really! I’ll pinky swear if you want.”

    The boy put out his hand, unsure, and linked fingers with his teacher before taking them in his own. “Alright. His name… It’s ‘Hero,’ Sensei.”

    Saitama considered the bear, its big soft eyes and fluffy body. “…Yeah. I think that suits him.” He plopped it in his lap and shook his paw. “Good to meet you, Hero.”

     The core sounded like it was gonna detonate. “Saitama…sensei…”

    “Yeah?”

    There was a breathy laugh and a pair of metal arms clamping around him. “You are unbearably sweet.”

    Oh no, he couldn’t pass that one up. “Un…bear-ably sweet?”

    Another whine. “…Sensei, there is a limit to the amount of saccharine I can handle before my taste receptors stop responding to it.”

    “But your tongue works, right?”

    “I’m fairly certain.” He snuck a peck on his cheek, and then, “But I have yet to test it after my check-up, and there’s only one way to tell.”

    He leaned in, and…yeah, yeah it definitely still worked…

    Genos pulled away and laid them both across the floor. “He is soft, isn’t he?”

    Saitama didn’t notice he was holding the bear to his stomach. “Yeah.”

    He started another question, but he had to wait a second since…he was so nervous. He’d gotten super shy all of a sudden, and he had no idea why. Was it…because they were laying down together? That was ridiculous…

    He swallowed and asked, “You…you’d sleep with him?”

    Genos nodded. “Sometimes, Sensei. He was comforting. He reminded me you were waiting for me at home…”

    He’d gotten shy, and…warm… “You could’ve called me, if you wanted.”

    “Every night, Sensei?” His student settled against his chest, playing with one of the bear’s ears. He was sure he could hear his heartbeat pounding, ‘cause Saitama could feel it. “And asked you to stay on the line until I fell asleep? That may have given me away.”

    “…Maybe…that wouldn’t’ve been so bad…”

    He didn’t need to see those beautiful eyes to know they were staring at him. “It would have been incredibly awkward. And…things might not have ended…like this,” he trailed, hand leaving the teddy to slide along his collarbone.

     It made him shiver. “…I’unno. I think I was doomed from the day you knocked on my door.”

    “’Doomed’? Am I so bad?”

    He couldn’t stop the grin. “Only in the good ways.”

    “Sensei! Not in front of Hero.”

    God he was stunning, curled up like that… “What, like you didn’t have him shoved in a closet surrounded by porn?”

     “That…is different…”

    He was all fluffy hair and pretty curves and that strong, deep voice… “Wanna make our own? He can handle it.”

    “Sensei!”

    Saitama watched the laugh leave his lips and he knew…well, first off, that he’d need to get used to this “being mushy” thing, because it obviously wasn’t going anywhere. He’d given it almost half a year and it was getting worse as time went on. Second though, was that…it was true. He was doomed, right from the start, right from the very first time the kid stomped up onto his porch.

    “…Of course…in order to preserve his innocence, I suppose we could…turn him away…”