Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The question on every fan's mind, of course; what do you like in girls?

DC - I don't have any particular preference. [...]

Are you seeing anybody right now?

DC - No. [...]

"Genos!" Saitama waved the magazine at him as soon as he kicked his shoes off. "What's this about?"

Genos gave him a blank stare from the kitchen. "I'm not sure what you mean, sensei."

"This interview! You said all kinds of junk I didn't know!"

It was Saitama's own fault, really. Genos turned down all interview requests automatically, it was sheer coincidence that Saitama was there when the latest one came in, and he talked him into it.

Admittedly, talking Genos into things wasn't hard for Saitama. Sometimes he felt bad about that, but he never intended to take advantage of it. He hadn't thought any harm would come of Genos doing an interview with a teen heartthrob magazine. If anything, his curt answers would probably turn the media off.

"They printed it?" Genos frowned, unconsciously mirroring his photo on the cover. It was in a bubble in the corner, most of the magazine dominated by some boy band in color-coordinated cardigans. "I didn't think what I said would appeal to their readers."

"Look," Saitama flipped open to the page, easy since he'd re-read it three times on the walk home (and only tripped twice). "Why didn't you tell me you had a crush on somebody?"

"Oh." The look on his face was inscrutable. "Because it's not important, sensei."

So you're on the market, then!

DC - I'm not interested in dating. My hero work and my training takes too much time.

You're not interested at all? Not even if the right person asked?

DC - There is one person I would say yes to. But they wouldn't ask. [...]

"Come on Genos, you gotta tell me who it is."

"I don't, actually, sensei." Genos was holding himself stiffly, even more than usual. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know."

"Ah..." That was a fair point. "Sorry."

Genos wiped his hands on his apron, then held one out. "May I see that please?"

"Oh, uh, sure." Saitama handed the magazine over. "Don't you know what you said, though?"

"I don't know what they printed." Genos scanned the single page, in purple ink on a page covered in yellow bubbles. "Here, see sensei?" He pointed to a line. "When they put an ellipsis in brackets like that, it means they cut short the statement."

"What, really?" Saitama squinted at it. "Dude. They did that to, like, everything you said."

"I gave answers they didn't want, sensei. The publication is aimed at young heterosexual girls. None of which interests me."

"Wait, you mean..." A weird jumble of emotions twisted in Saitama's gut. "You're gay? And you like older guys?"

"Yes, sensei." Still inscrutable, but Saitama could feel the heat radiating off Genos' body. "Is that a problem?"

"'Course not." Saitama forced a smile. "You know me better than that."

Really? There's someone you like?

DC - Yes. But this person doesn't feel the same way.

That's so tragic! Who could possibly say no to you?

DC - Someone out of my league. [...]

Genos was clearly uncomfortable, so Saitama dropped the subject after that. He wasn't sure what to say, whether he should say anything. So Genos had a crush, so what? So what if it was probably someone from S-Class, or another hero that Saitama also knew? So what if he might talk to the person who broke Genos' heart and not even know?

It wasn't like Saitama had any claim on Genos' affection.

Saitama was making udon for dinner, it wasn't as good as fresh from a stand, but he was pretty confident about his seasoning. At least until Genos got halfway through his meal without a word.

"Is it bad?" Saitama asked.

For a second, static charge fluffed up Genos' hair. "Wh- what?"

"The udon. I got a little experimental, but I thought it was okay."

"Oh, no, it's fine sensei. It's very good." In demonstration, he stuffed a piece that was a little too big in his mouth and chewed.

"Are you thinking about that interview?" Saitama couldn't stop thinking about it, so it made sense.

Genos nearly choked on his mouthful (could he choke?), which was answer enough.

"Are... you okay?"

"I'm fine, sensei," Genos said as soon as he swallowed. "This is nothing new."

Saitama stabbed his chopsticks into the bowl a little too forcefully, and felt them crack beneath his fingers. "You know you- you're great. Right?"

"I... Thank you, sensei." The heat was back. Across the table Saitama couldn't feel it, but he could see the telltale shimmer coming off Genos' shoulders.

"Anybody who doesn't appreciate that, doesn't deserve you anyway."

Genos said nothing, staring down at his food.

A wild idea occurred, and before he could stop himself, Saitama said, "So you should move on."

Genos looked up, perfect brow furrowed. "Sensei?"

"Well, like, it's not healthy to moon over somebody who doesn't like you back. But it's hard to get over them if you don't try dating other people." Saitama still had the magazine within reach, so he picked it up. "I know you said hero stuff and training takes too much time, but think about it as training for your mental wellbeing."

"I see, sensei."

Saitama was expecting him to write it down, but for once he seemed content to let it lie.

"Thank you for your concern."

"Ah... yeah. No problem." Saitama used his weakened chopsticks to poke through the broth, looking for anything to stick in his mouth and stop from saying anything else. Nothing appeared. "You're not the only one who's had a hopeless crush."

To Saitama's surprise, Genos set his chopsticks down, hard. "I'm very sorry sensei, but I need some fresh air."

"Uh... okay?"

"I'm going for a walk, I won't be long."

"Okay. Have fun?"

With nothing but a curt nod, Genos picked up his bowl and took it to be kitchen. As Saitama drained his broth, he could see Genos carefully wrapping it in plastic to wait for him.

Before he could get his shoes on, Saitama jumped to his feet. One last thing, and then he would shut up about this forever.

"Genos?"

Genos froze in the act of reaching for his boots, giving Saitama a moment to appreciate the sight of him bent over. "Sensei?"

"Did I cross a line, talking about, you know, your personal stuff?"

"No, sensei, nothing like that."

"It's just, I know being my disciple is important to you, but I hope you know it's... more than that, for me." Saitama licked suddenly bone-dry lips. Genos was staring at him so intensely he felt like his blood might boil in his veins. "We're, you know, friends."

Genos kept staring for long enough that Saitama started to sweat. Finally he straightened up, looking grave. "Thank you sensei. I'm honored to be considered your friend."

"Um. Yeah."

And on that awkward note, Genos was gone.

The nice thing about Z City, sensei's hometown, was that there was always something going on. A sale, or a demonstration, or a monster wreaking havoc. Those last ones were a problem, sometimes, but right now Genos could use the outlet.

He had thrown himself into the fight before he even realized he and the monster weren't the only ones in it. But the man in armor just gave Genos a nod, and went back to work slashing a sword at the creature's masses of tentacles.

Genos took the other side, blasting away dozens of wriggling appendages, and diving in to the monster's central mass. There had to be some kind of heart or brainstem that he could sever and put the thing down. The tentacles tried to restrain him, but Genos vented the steam that had been building all evening, scorching them enough to break free.

The center of the creature was hard to get a good look at. Tentacles were growing from every available space. Genos charged up as big a shot as he could in his everyday arms, and blasted more or less the very center of the thing.

When the chunks stopped falling, Genos was left with a smell like burned takoyaki, and the other hero in armor. He shook off the severed, but still wriggling, limbs, and Genos belatedly realized he knew him.

“Hello, Demon Cyborg.”

“Iaian, good evening.”

“Thank you for the assistance. That one was troublesome.”

“I'm sorry for barging in. I forgot to analyze the situation.”

Iaian shook his head, and neatly sheathed his sword one-handed. “It's fine. It's not like either of us needs the points.”

Genos would debate that if he were in Iaian's place. He'd heard that the only thing keeping him from S-Class was Amai Mask's stranglehold on A-Class Rank 1, and if a few more points would get him there, well...

“Are you okay?” Genos asked, quickly amending it to, “Injured?”

“Nothing that won't heal.” He took off his helmet and clipped it onto his belt, smiling crookedly. “You?”

“I'm undamaged.”

“You have goop in your hair. Here.” Iaian reached up and tugged a chunk of monster flesh from Genos' bangs.

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay though?”

“Yes? I said I was.”

“Not injured. Okay.” Iaian gestured at his face. “It's just... your eyes are leaking. Is that damage, or...”

Genos's hands flew to his face, and his fingertips came away glossy with oil. “Oh. Um. Thank you for telling me.” He gave a stiff nod. Iaian might be below him in rank, but he was a few years older, if he was remembering right. “Excuse me.”

“Goodnight, Demon Cyborg.”

Genos didn't get home until late, later than Saitama usually went to bed, and he expected to find him already asleep, or at least ready for it. Instead he was watching TV, head bobbing gently, and jerked upright when he heard the door shut.

“I'm home, sensei.”

“Welcome home.” Saitama stifled a yawn. It was always a treat to see him like this, soft and vulnerable, utterly at ease. If nothing else, Genos knew he had his sensei's complete trust.

Which only made him feel worse, sometimes.

“Feel better?”

“Yes sensei, thank you. I helped Iaian defeat a monster.”

“Iaian?”

“A-Class Rank 2. Atomic Samurai's disciple.” Genos allowed himself to sound slightly admonishing as he added, “You've met him twice, sensei.”

“Mm. The knight guy, right?”

“Yes, sensei.”

Saitama scratched his head. “I guess you'd have a lot in common with him, huh?”

Genos hadn't thought of it that way, but he wasn't wrong. They were both very strong, both disciples to far more powerful heroes, they'd both lost part of their bodies to monsters... “I suppose.”

“Oh.” Something in his tone had changed, so Genos looked up. “Were you crying?” Saitama asked.

Once again, Genos touched his face, but he was sure it was dry this time. “What do you mean, sensei?”

“Your eyelashes are all stuck together.” Saitama grabbed a tissue from the box on top of his bookshelf and came over to join Genos in the hall. “Here, hold still.”

“Sensei, you don't need to-”

His hand was on Genos' cheek, steadying his face while he wiped oil from around his eyes. Saitama's face was so close, his features so sharp, his fingers so gentle...

“Close your eyes.”

“Yes, sensei.” Genos obeyed without question, even though he knew it wasn't what he thought, wasn't what he wanted. Even though it would never be.

Softly, so softly, Saitama wiped the tears from his eyes. The tears he had no idea he caused.

“Thank you,” Genos said, as Saitama stepped back. His face was red, blushing from ear to ear. He'd probably realized what an intimate position it was and gotten uncomfortable.

“Ah. It's nothing. I wish...” Saitama stopped.

“What?”

“Just... that I could make you feel better.”

“You do.”

It was enough to be Saitama's student, enough to be considered his friend. It would have to be.

They got ready for bed, changing and pushing the table aside to make room for both futons, chatting now and then about nothing of consequence. Saitama still had his heart-patterned comforter, worn and soft from a decade or more of laundry. Genos had some plain blue bedding he'd bought in a pack, but now it was discolored and patched here and there, from superstrength mishaps, spilled food, oil tears. They crawled into bed, side by side, just like any other evening.

And just like any other evening, Genos lay awake listening to Saitama breathe, until the sound of another human being finally comforted him to sleep.

If it seemed like Saitama took longer to fall asleep than usual tonight, it could be that he really was worried about Genos... or it could be his imagination.

Either way, it wasn't worth dwelling on.

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since Saitama dated anyone... and even longer since he tried to attract anybody. He hadn't had a crush since high school, and that barely counted when it was on an idol.

This thing with Genos wasn't a crush, not exactly, or so he kept telling himself. He really cared about Genos, really wanted to make him happy. And if he could do that by dating him, well, so be it.

The problem was how? How could he get somebody like Genos, handsome and popular and smart, to fall for a loser like Saitama, who was none of those things? It was like the girl who interviewed him said; who was out of Demon Cyborg's league? He was practically a league of his own.

All Saitama could think of was to try and cheer him up. Genos was still down, even a couple days after the interview came out, and the little things Saitama did for him normally weren't helping. Maybe a distraction would be good?

“Hey Genos, I was thinking, you wanna go to M City today?”

“M City? To see King?”

“No, just you and me. There's good stores there, and a nice park...” Saitama smiled hopefully. “Take a day off, you know?”

“Sensei, we don't exactly keep a schedule.”

“Yeah okay, sometimes nothing happens all day. But on purpose!” Saitama stood up and tossed off his tank top. If they were going out, he should put on something more solid.

Genos didn't say anything while Saitama searched for a clean shirt. The silence stretched on for long enough that Saitama glanced back over his shoulder, only to see him sitting as still as ever, nothing on his face.

“Do you not want to?” Saitama asked.

“I- I don't mind, sensei, if that's what you want.”

“I just thought it would be nice. It's fine if you would rather stay in.”

“No! No, um...” For some reason, Genos was clenching his fists. “Going out... sounds good.”

“Okay. Have you seen my polo? The red one.”

“Drying on the balcony, sensei.”

“Oh! Thanks.”

They jogged to M City along the highway, honked at occasionally, shouted at often, but these distractions were easily ignored. Once they reached their destination Saitama led the way to the shopping district. They'd been here before, before Saitama even met King properly, for the sales. There was nothing special going on today, but there were often samples and demonstrations on weekends.

Saitama talked Genos down from trying to haggle a discount for a new cell phone charger, taught him how to pick out cloud-shapes in the park, bought them lunch off a cart. It almost felt like a date, if it wasn't the same stuff they did all the time.

When had it changed? When had Saitama started feeling like this? Had it been growing in him all along, and it took him until now to notice?

By early afternoon, Saitama had Genos smiling. By the time they got home he was talking casually and even made a joke. A terrible one, but Saitama laughed because those were his favorite kind.

They made dinner together, ate it together, and went to bed, just like any other day.

Saitama didn't know if he'd accomplished anything at all.

If the Hero Association wasn't full of so much bureaucratic nonsense, Genos might actually feel bad about ignoring them when it suited him. He'd shut off his phone when Saitama wanted to spend the day together, and now he was getting a politely-worded reprimand about neglecting his duties.

As if the other S-Class heroes didn't do much less. Metal Knight had never once shown up for a meeting, and as far as Genos knew, no one had even seen Blast in years.

He did feel a bit bad that several B-Class heroes had been hurt fighting a monster he could have taken down easily, though, so he reported in to the local branch to see if they had territories that would need covering. They weren't members of the Blizzard Group, so it seemed they had simply taken opportunities as they came, much like Saitama.

Genos was on his way out when he heard someone calling his title. He was prepared to ignore it, but the clank of metal made him pause. Who else made sounds like that when they moved?

The answer came quickly enough. Iaian raised his hand in a half-wave, walking toward him, armor plates hitting each other with every step.

“Oh, hello.”

“Good afternoon, Demon Cyborg.”

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, making his chestplate ride up his stomach. “Checking in. Your city is rather dangerous, you know?”

“It's nothing sensei and I can't handle,” Genos said, though the thought of those hospitalized B-Classes sprung immediately to mind.

The premature lines on Iaian's face deepened for a moment. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. I apologize if this is rude, but I'm looking into getting a cyborg replacement for my arm, and I can't think of anyone else I'd feel comfortable talking to about it.”

They'd only spoken a few times, but Genos knew what he meant. There weren't many cyborgs, even among heroes, and they'd always been civil to each other.

“If it's not too personal, I don't mind.”

“Thanks.” His armor creaked as it settled around him. “Well, I suppose the first one... how long does it take to get used to?”

Genos shook his head. “That depends on the person. But I assume you're dedicated, you won't neglect practicing with it.”

“Of course not,” Iaian said, firmly. “I trained in a single-handed style, but it wasn't my primary method. Even if the arm is never as strong as my old one, it will be better to have something there.”

Genos found himself smiling. “You sound like you've already made up your mind.”

“Unless you think I shouldn't?”

One thought rose to mind... “Have you had any phantom pains?”

Iaian nodded. “Sometimes I can't sleep.”

“The new arm won't stop that. I think, at least from personal experience, it lasts even longer.” Genos flexed his fingers automatically. “It feels like I should feel something. More than what I do.”

“Are you... on medication?”

“Some,” he admitted. “You?”

“No. I thought I could power through it.” He bit his lip. “My master puts a lot of emphasis on personal strength.”

Genos was indigent on behalf of all students everywhere. “If he's a good teacher, he shouldn't want you to be in pain.”

“It's not that!” Iaian snapped. The brief flash of anger faded almost immediately. “He doesn't know, anyway.”

Genos knew that feeling too. The desire to seem strong, to the person whose opinion mattered most.

“How much does your style rely on speed?”

Iaian blinked in surprise. “Not much. I try to be fast enough to dodge anything, of course, but my attacks rely more on power.”

“I can recommend some materials for you. I have my own doctor, but I've studied the field.”

“Oh, really? That would be great.”

Genos hesitated. They really did have a lot in common. And it was Saitama's idea in the first place...

“Would you like to get coffee, and talk more?”

Iaian frowned a little. “I don't drink coffee.”

“I mean... tea then?” Genos flexed his fingers again. “I'm sorry, I've never done this before. Something to eat, maybe?”

“Never done- Are you asking me out?”

“Yes? If that's all right?”

For a long moment, Iaian said nothing. Genos began to wonder if he'd been even more awkward than he thought.

“You know what? Yeah. Why not?” His face broke into a smile. “Yeah, let's go get coffee.”

Genos looked more cheerful when he got home from his errands, which usually meant he'd found something good on sale, or Saitama had gone up in rank again. But he didn't mention anything, just going about the usual business of unpacking groceries and tying on his apron.

“What's up?” Saitama asked, leaning back to watch him through the gap in the wall.

“Up? Nothing, sensei.”

“You're in a good mood.”

“Oh, I guess so. I had a nice time.” Genos smiled down at whatever he was doing. “I went on a date, I think.”

Saitama's tongue dried up in his mouth. It took a few seconds before he could croak out, “A date?”

“With Iaian. We just had tea and talked for a little. But we're going to get dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner. With that knight guy.”

“Yes.” Genos looked at him, frowning. “Sensei? Are you upset?”

“What? No!” Saitama plastered a grin on his face. “Of course not! That's great for you.”

“Oh...” He went back to whatever was occupying his hands below Saitama's field of vision. “Yes, sensei.”

Most of the time, Genos was at peace with his faulty memory. Dwelling on his past, on happy memories, on the things he'd lost, would only get in the way of his mission.

Now, he wished he could remember if he'd ever been on a date back in school. Surely that would have stuck in his mind? He knew he'd kissed someone before, a girl, experimentally, but it was blurry outside the fact that it happened.

Iaian was dressed in normal clothes, black shirt and gray trousers, slightly wrinkled, making Genos think it was simply what he'd been wearing under his armor. After some internal debate, Genos had suggested they go to a noodle house he often visited with Saitama. The memory of being there with him would be painful, but at least he knew the food was good and inexpensive.

They talked about hero work, about cyborg technology, about their teachers (a brief moment of tension over different philosophies, but Iaian was the first to back down, so Genos let it go). They ordered nearly the same food, protein-rich, Iaian for his muscles and Genos for his brain. They had the same complains about the Association's structure.

It was nice.

Iaian's phone buzzed as they were finishing up their meals, and Genos gestured for him to answer it. He had his messages set up to display on his HUD, so it was only fair. As Iaian looked at the text, his face softened, the lines around his eyes almost smoothing out enough to make him look his age, and his mouth turned up into smile.

“Who is it?” Genos asked, already afraid he knew the answer. They did have a lot in common...

“Shisho- My master, Atomic Samurai.” Iaian typed a quick reply, and tucked the phone back in his pocket.

There was no one nearby, the staff giving them a wide berth, and few other customers at this hole-in-the-wall. No one could overhear.

“You're in love with him, aren't you?”

Iaian instantly began sputtering, so far from his usual way of speaking that it was all the confirmation Genos needed. “I- I don't know what you're talking about. That's ridiculous. He's my master, and I have a lot of esteem for him, and-”

“I'm in love with my sensei too.”

Iaian stared at him for a moment, before sighing and sinking back in his chair. “Look at us.”

“I know.” Genos found himself smiling. “It's sad.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to use you, I just thought...”

“I know. Me too.”

Iaian scratched his cheek. “Are you sure there's no way your sensei might return your feelings? To be honest, I thought you two were together until you asked me out.”

“I'm sure. He's straight.” Genos hated how much it hurt to admit that out loud. He shouldn't resent Saitama for something he couldn't control, and yet... “What about you?”

“Shisho is very serious about the master-disciple bond. He'd never break that trust. Not ever.”

They both sighed.

After a moment, Iaian looked up from contemplating the wood grain of the table. “Maybe...” He hesitated for another second. “Maybe we should keep going out? Keep trying?”

“You think?”

“Well, if nothing else, it would be nice to have an... outlet.” The lighting was rather dim in the restaurant at night, the seating area largely relying on the windows to provide natural sun, but Genos thought Iaian was turning pink around the neck and ears.

“That kind of outlet could come from anywhere.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to... to hold?” He smiled, sheepishly. “I won't get mad if you cry out 'sensei,' if you don't get mad if I cry out 'shisho.'”

Despite misgivings, the idea was appealing. Genos had desires like most other young men, and living with the object of them would have been even more maddening if he didn't have a body that could shut off certain functions. Even if it never went that far, just being able to kiss and hold someone would allow him to... pretend.

“I guess we could try it.”

Saitama hadn't been able to sit still all day, and most of last night. In fact, ever since Genos said he had a date, Saitama had been restless.

It wasn't fair of him, just because he had a crush, just because he'd found out he might have a chance, to be so jealous. But denying it wouldn't help.

Cooking alone wasn't unusual, even now. Genos was often away for repairs, or check-ups, or S-Class nonsense. But tonight it felt almost unbearably lonely, and Saitama found himself throwing on a hoodie and heading out to buy something instead.

He could afford to splurge once in a while, treat himself to a hot meal to distract from the knowledge he'd let a good thing slip away. Maybe he'd never really had a chance to begin with, just like he always thought. There was that noodle place that wasn't too far, and was pretty cheap but still good, despite the way the staff was afraid of him now thanks to Genos being so surly.

It was late, and the sun was nearly all the way down, the wind picking up and making Saitama wish he'd worn something a little thicker. The restaurant was dimly lit, but Saitama could see a handful of people inside, including a young couple who apparently didn't care they were making out next to a window.

Oh.

Lit by the warm orange glow of sunset, leaning across the narrow table, Genos was kissing Iaian with his eyes closed and every appearance of pleasure.

It wasn't like he couldn't. It wasn't like he didn't deserve this. It wasn't like he was profaning a restaurant they'd enjoyed together once. But Saitama's breath still hitched in his throat as he turned away, and he didn't feel like eating any more.

Genos was happy. That was the whole point. That was all that mattered.

He walked home, slowly, alone in the cold.

With his eyes shut and his hand on a muscular shoulder, Genos could forget about anything else but this feeling. To have a warm mouth on his, the presence of another human being who wanted this as much as he did (whatever that meant), the hovering promise of more.

Genos let himself give in. Let himself enjoy it. Let his hand slide up and cup his partner's head, fingers threading through Iaian's... hair...

He pulled back and said, “Wait,” at the same moment Iaian said, “Stop.”

They exchanged a knowing glance.

“This isn't going to work, is it?” Iaian said, first to speak, since it was his idea.

“No, I don't think so.”

He let out yet another sigh. “Well, thank you for trying.”

“It was... nice. But it's not...”

“No. I'm not the right one.”

“No.” Genos tried to offer a smile, but he was sure it came out like a grimace. “I do like you. Maybe we could... talk? Sometime?”

“Ah, yeah.” Iaian's smile was better-practiced. “Friends?”

“Yes.” Genos stuck out his hand. “Friends.”

Iaian shook it, and this time they both smiled for real.

It wasn't moving on, like Saitama suggested, but Genos felt better for having tried. And it was the first time he'd had a friend in years.

They split the check and parted ways, and Genos got home before full dark. He was expecting Saitama to still be up, maybe even waiting for him like before, but the lights were off, and it was only with his nightvision that Genos could see Saitama had already gone to bed. Genos' futon was folded next to Saitama's, ready for him. It was hours earlier than they normally went to sleep.

There wasn't a note, and from Saitama's heartrate Genos could tell he was still awake, but he pretended he didn't know and shut the door to the hallway so Saitama wouldn't be bothered while he prepared.

Was Saitama sick? Genos browsed soup recipes on his phone while he brushed his teeth and changed. Saitama was still awake when Genos set up his futon, and he couldn't detect any trouble in his breathing. Maybe he was just having a bad day. That happened sometimes.

In the morning, Genos would make breakfast and listen to anything Saitama was willing to tell him. Saitama would never love him the way Genos wanted, but Genos would rather die than not be there when Saitama needed him.

Chapter Text

Having gone to bed early, naturally Genos woke early too. Saitama was still sleeping, though much more soundly than last night, so Genos took a morning walk rather than disturb him. He found a convenience store open early, or late, and picked up a couple things he might need if his suspicions were accurate.

Despite his best efforts, Saitama was woken by his return, and Genos quickly stashed his purchases in the kitchen before coming to check on his teacher.

"Good morning sensei."

"Mm. Mornin'." Saitama rubbed a spot above his eyebrow.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Kind of a headache, but I should have eaten last night."

Genos' concerns doubled. "You didn't eat? Were you sick to your stomach?"

"What? No."

"You went to bed early because you weren't feeling well, right sensei?"

Saitama looked a little flushed, but it could have been because he just woke up. "Yyyyes. Yes I did."

Genos knelt next to him, trying to ignore the way Saitama tugged the blanket higher up his chest. "Sensei, may I take your temperature?"

"Uh, okay, but I don't think it's-"

Genos leaned in and pressed his forehead against Saitama's. "I apologize," he said quietly. "But this is the best way to get an accurate reading."

Saitama made a sound that was mostly consonants.

After an interminable thirty seconds, Genos pulled back. "Sensei, you're running a one hundred degree Fahrenheit fever."

"Wait, what?" His flustered reaction to the physical contact faded away into confusion. "I'm actually sick?"

"Sensei? You didn't think you were?"

"I, uh..." He fidgeted with the blanket. "I thought I was just... tired."

Genos climbed to his feet and went back to the kitchen. "Do you have any other symptoms sensei? Sore throat? Stuffed nose?"

"No..."

"Body aches?"

Saitama stretched experimentally, and Genos watched him through the kitchen partition, mourning how unfair it was that Saitama looked so good even when he was ill.

"Agh, yep, sore. Geez."

Genos took a bottle from his shopping bag. "I purchased some pain reliever/fever reducer, sensei. You should take it and get some more rest if you can."

"What, aspirin? We had aspirin already."

"It was expired, sensei," Genos said, slightly chiding. He poured a glass of water and took it and the pills to Saitama, still sitting up in bed.

"Oh. Well. I haven't needed it in a while." He took his medicine without complaint, and drank the whole glass. "I'm pretty much awake, and I gotta take a leak." He tossed off the blanket, but something in Genos' expression must have given him pause. "I'll take it easy today, don't worry. It's just a little fever."

"You should rest," Genos said, redundantly.

"I will! I just gotta piss. Then you can fuss over me all you want, I promise."

Genos didn't think the bare minimum of taking care of yourself counted as "fussing," but he didn't argue. While Saitama was in the bathroom, Genos started breakfast and made a shopping list for homemade soup. By the time Saitama emerged, washed and dressed, Genos was laying out the food on the table and had gathered up all the bedding to be washed.

"Oh come on, I didn't cough all over everything."

"No, but you were sweating quite a bit." Genos didn't want to offend Saitama, so he added, "Clean sheets will feel better. When your temperature is elevated, your skin feels more sensitive."

"Well I feel better already anyway." Saitama sat down to eat, and Genos sat next to him. He cupped his hand on the back of Saitama's neck, pushing their foreheads together once again.

"Your temperature has dropped," Genos confirmed. "But only a little."

"Th- that could be from the shower," Saitama said, reaching for his spoon with a shaky hand. "Or... other things."

Genos doubted it, but didn't say so. They ate breakfast and watched the morning reruns of last night's game shows, and it felt like it was going to be a peaceful day.

At least, until the broadcast was interrupted by a warning to get to the shelters. A disaster level Demon was being reported on the outskirts of town, and all civilians were warned to get to safety before it reached population centers.

"Sensei, no," Genos said. Saitama was already taking off his clothes.

"It won't take long."

"You're sick! Let me do it."

"It's faster if it's me. That thing's still on the edge of the city. I can take it out and everyone can relax." Saitama hopped into his hero suit and shimmied it up his hips. "Besides," he muttered, half to himself, "this is the only thing I'm good at."

"Sensei..."

But Genos couldn't stop him, not after that. All he could do was watch the helicopter footage on the news, and call in to lecture the staff when no one at the station managed to identify Saitama, despite a relatively clear shot of him defeating the monster.

It took Saitama a while to get home afterward, and once again Genos' fears were well-founded. He stumbled in the door, dizzy and flushed, his fever risen by a whole degree. Genos found every clean blanket in the apartment and filled him full of medicine and tea.

It wasn't until evening that Saitama felt well enough to hold a conversation again. He'd napped for a while after lunch, though Genos suspected he hadn't meant to.

"You don't have to baby me," Saitama grumbled when Genos insisted on cooling his soup before he ate it.

"I'm not, sensei, I'm trying to make you as comfortable as possible. I remember how frustrating it is to be sick."

Saitama slurped the now lukewarm soup. "I'll probably be better tomorrow anyway."

They both knew that was unlikely.

"I don't want you to think you have to be here," Saitama said, eyes fixed on the bowl, face blank. "If you have another date or something."

"Date?" With everything that happened today, Genos had forgotten to tell him. "Oh, that's not likely, sensei. Iaian and I decided we like each other as friends."

"What?" Saitama jerked his head up, eyes wide. "You broke up?"

"We... Yes, sensei."

Tension Genos hadn't noticed before drained from Saitama's shoulders. "Oh, that's... too bad."

Genos almost smiled. "Sensei, were you worried? It would be strange if we had two dates in two days."

"I don't know how the kids are doing things these days!"

"Iaian is only two years younger than you, sensei."

"Whatever."

Saitama was in a better mood for the rest of the evening, though he didn't protest when Genos suggested going to bed early again, so he must have been drained.

Saitama slept soundly, with the help of some more of the medicine Genos had bought at some point, and in the morning his fever had broken.

"See? Told you I'd be better."

"'Better' isn't 'well,' sensei," Genos pointed out. Which was one hundred percent true, Saitama still felt achy all over and his head was full of fluff. But he ignored it, and got on the computer, looking up an event he thought was that weekend.

"Hey Genos, you wanna go to this?"

"What, sensei?" Genos leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen. He was close enough Saitama could feel the heat from his chest, soothing now that it was getting into autumn.

"This festival." Saitama pointed at the date. "I'm sure I'll be 'well' by then."

Genos looked hesitant. "I don't know, sensei, last time..."

"That was last time. You're prepared now." He shrugged. "Besides, there aren't any fireworks at this one. It's been too dry."

There was still something eating at him, Saitama could tell. "If you want to go, sensei, I'd be honored to accompany you."

Saitama bit back a groan. "I don't wanna go if you don't want to!"

For a long moment, Genos was silent. Saitama couldn't figure out what would be stopping him from saying yes. Did he suspect Saitama's ulterior motives?

"Yes, sensei," Genos said, straightening up. "I want to go with you."

"Great!"

The rest of the week, Saitama did his best to be the perfect boyfriend prospect. He asked Genos what he wanted, he listened to all his stories, he took mental notes and surprised Genos with things he liked. Most of that stuff he'd been doing already, but now he was really trying, and he was pretty sure Genos noticed.

At least, he reacted to it. When Saitama returned from shopping and found Genos already done patrolling, he was able to sidestep a lecture about his health by presenting the ingredients he'd bought for dinner.

"You like bamboo shoot rice, don't you? I've noticed you're always quiet when we have it. Usually means you're concentrating."

Genos was quiet now too. "Yes, sensei, thank you."

"I'll cook tonight, since I took a couple days off."

"That's not necessary, sensei," Genos said quickly, but also made no move to get up.

"Nah, I want to. I've got my energy back, I want to do stuff." He smiled at Genos through the partition. "My turn to take care of you."

Genos was quiet for the rest of the evening.

They'd decided to go casual for the festival, since Genos didn't get the point of dressing up, and they'd lost the deposit on the yukatas last time. Saitama still made an effort to dress nice, with a shirt that buttoned and shoes that required socks. He considered cologne, but he'd never been totally sure how you put it on, and too much would be worse than none at all.

Genos was wearing nothing different than usual, but when he saw Saitama emerge from the bathroom he was frozen in place for a few seconds.

"What?"

"Nothing," he sounded choked, like something had dried out his throat. "Should I dress more formally, sensei?"

"No need. You always look good. Come on, we want to get food before it's super crowded!" Saitama grabbed Genos by the wrist and tugged him along before he could overthink things like he usually did.

Tonight was going to be fun, and romantic, and magical, if Saitama had to drag Genos every step of the way.

Genos felt like he was being tortured. Ever since Saitama got that fever he'd been acting different. Attentive.

It was nice, that was the problem. It would be easy to get used to. And Genos knew he couldn't, because Saitama was only trying to comfort him over his failed love life. It wasn't what it felt like. It wasn't the way he wanted Saitama to care.

And then the day of the festival arrived, and Saitama came out in that dress shirt. It must have been old, from his salaryman days, or maybe he hadn't tried it on when he bought it, because it didn't fit. It was too tight across his shoulders and chest, the buttons straining to stay closed. The shirt clung to his pectorals, fabric thin enough that if Genos looked close he could make out Saitama's nipples, and hugged his waist before being neatly tucked into belted khakis.

"What?" Saitama asked, and Genos reluctantly wrenched his eyes back up.

"Nothing," he managed, barely.

Apparently his hurried deflection worked, but then Saitama took his hand (well, wrist) and led him outside and down the street.

The festival was a local one, a town over in the smaller Y City. They arrived before sunset, a few of the student-run booths not even finished setting up. But they weren't the first to get there; families and unsupervised children, a few teenagers still in their uniforms, older folks who habitually took a walk through this park and would be damned if they changed their routine.

It was a mellow crowd. Aside from the odd child shrieking, people talked quietly amongst themselves. For a while, Genos and Saitama browsed in silence.

"Oh, look," Saitama pointed to a booth. "You could probably cheat at that one."

"Cheat, sensei?" Genos frowned. "Is that something a hero should do?"

"It's not really cheating. Look." Saitama took his hand this time, his actual hand, and led him over to the booth. The man running it barely looked up from his newspaper. "All the strings are tied to prizes, then tangled up, and the idea is to guess which string goes to the prize you want."

"Oh, I see." It was true, with Genos' different modes of vision and built-in computer systems, he could solve the string puzzle easily. "Which prize do you want, sensei?"

"Nah, I was only kidding." Saitama was still holding his hand, and Genos would have followed him anywhere, even if he wasn't. "Come on, let's keep looking around."

Once they were out of earshot of the booth, Saitama leaned in close enough that Genos could feel the heat of his breath. "If that PSP is still there in a few hours, let's try it."

Genos smiled. "Yes sensei."

Saitama released his hand then, stammering a little as he pointed out the next sight. It wasn't a very large festival, at least as far as Genos could tell. Certainly smaller than the only other one he'd been to. From what he gathered, it was uncommon to have one this close to fall. But the locals seemed happy, even if they sprouted hoodies and jackets as the sun sank in the sky.

"Oh no way!" Saitama exclaimed. "One of those! I thought they were illegal."

Ahead of them stood a kind of giant metal wheel, slightly taller than the booths, with worn wooden benches suspended around the rim. A tall muscular teenager was standing next to it, and after another pair of teenagers climbed into the lowest bench, he grabbed one of the spokes with both hands and pulled down, making the wheel turn and the passengers rise.

"What is it, sensei?"

"I don't know if they have their own name, but it's like a tiny man-powered Ferris wheel." Saitama was grinning. "I've only seen one once before, when I was really young. And they shut it down after, like, an hour. I'm pretty sure one of the operators got his finger crushed."

Genos considered this information, as well as the smile on Saitama's face. "Do you want to ride it, sensei?"

"Only if you want to. It's not very high. Or fast."

Indeed, as they'd been watching the wheel had only made half a turn, and the young man running it already looked winded.

"I'm sure it would be faster if someone stronger was spinning it. Like you or I, sensei."

Saitama tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You think they'd let us?"

"I doubt it, sensei, it would be against-"

"I'm gonna ask." Saitama jogged ahead and talked to the young man slaving away to bring the passengers back to earth. The downward rotation should have been easier, but he was exhausted from the upward.

After a moment, Saitama waved Genos over. The huge smile on his face was enough answer.

"Hop on!"

"Me, sensei? I think I'm heavier than the weight requirement."

"Come on, I can do it no problem."

Worried for the rickety bench, Genos took a seat gingerly where the other teenagers had just vacated. The metal creaked, but held.

"Okay, hang on to something!"

Genos grabbed the seat with both hands. If this thing had ever had seat belts or safety bars, it didn't now.

Saitama copied the motion he'd seen the operator do, grabbing a spoke and pulling down. He didn't use his full strength, Genos was certain of that, but it was two full rotations before the wheel slowed down, and two more before it groaned to a stop.

"Haha! Sorry, that was too much. Want me to try again?"

If Genos was still mostly human, he would probably be sick and dizzy. As it was, he said, "One more."

After another couple turns Genos climbed down to see a line of kids and teens waiting for a ride. Saitama ignored them and focused on Genos, brushing his bangs across his forehead.

"Your hair's all messed up."

Genos tried not to think about the way the brush of Saitama's fingers made him feel more queasy than a ride on a questionably-legal Ferris wheel. "Sensei, your fans are waiting."

"Huh?" He hadn't even noticed the line that had formed. "Oh, geez, I can't. I'm supposed to be here with my- with Genos."

"I'll cap the line," the underage operator said. "Please, dude? I mean, sir."

Saitama looked at Genos, face creased with guilt.

"Sensei, if the wheel is fully loaded, it will only take two turns to serve all these people."

"Yeah? Okay, but only the ones who are here right now."

With getting everyone seated, it still took fifteen minutes before the rides were completed. No one got sick, and all the screaming was positive, not terrified. But the wheel kept groaning and screeching, unused to being spun so quickly. When they were finished, the operator ran off to find some grease for the mechanisms, and Saitama and Genos slipped away as inconspicuously as was possible for people who looked like they did.

"Sorry about that," Saitama said. "It's just... all those kids..."

Genos smiled a little. "It's okay sensei. That's something I admire about you."

"What, not wanting to disappoint children?"

"You're so dedicated to other people." Genos gestured around them. "Even this. You want me to cheer up, and to have a life outside my mission. I'm not sure I agree, but I know you mean well."

Saitama's expression was pinched. "I'm not... totally selfless."

"I know, sensei."

He frowned for a moment longer, then swerved toward a booth. "Let's get food. I'm starving."

They ate corn and takoyaki, and afterward played a balloon popping game and one which involved precisely poking a brittle card in order to make a shape. Genos bested Saitama at both of them.

By then it was dark, so they walked among the warmly lit stalls and strings of lanterns, enjoying the sights. The Ferris wheel had been shut down, but Saitama said probably no one was hurt if there wasn't any police tape.

"It's getting cold. Want to walk through the park before we go?" Saitama asked.

"What about that string game?"

"Ah, it's probably a scam anyway." Saitama brushed his knuckles across the back of Genos' hand. "I'd rather have a minute alone with you."

It wasn't what Genos was thinking. It couldn't be.

They walked along the quiet paths, close enough to touch, the way lit here and there by old flickering streetlights, and once a lighted clock with a plaque about raising the money for it. The stars were bright, and Saitama was gazing up at them through the trees, giving Genos ample time to appreciate the way the crisp night air was making his nipples stand out.

This evening had been fantastic, but Genos still felt like it was a punishment somehow. Why was Saitama so wonderful, so perfect, when Genos could never have him?

Lost in thought, Genos almost didn't notice when Saitama sat down at a bench in the most secluded spot yet, hemmed in by bushes and set back a little further from the path than most of the others had been. Genos sat next to him, leaving enough of a gap between them that hopefully Saitama wouldn't notice how Genos' temperature had risen.

"Did you have fun?" Saitama asked.

"Yes, sensei," Genos said honestly. When he wasn't thinking, it was a lot of fun.

Saitama took a deep breath. "Listen, Genos. Can I... say something?"

"Yes, sensei."

"It's, well, I know I've said it before, but that guy. The one you like, who doesn't like you back."

Genos felt his internal fans kick on.

"You're... amazing. I really mean that." Saitama smiled sheepishly. "When you say that to me, I feel like a fraud, because I'm nowhere near as amazing as you. I worry if you ever realize what a loser I am, you'll hate me."

"That won't happen, sensei," Genos said firmly. "You aren't a loser at all."

"Right," he let out a huff, maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh. "That guy who doesn't like you back. He's an idiot, is my point. You shouldn't worry about him, you shouldn't waste a second of your time on him."

Genos squeezed his eyes shut. This conversation was going exactly where he hoped it wouldn't. To hear Saitama telling him he deserved better than Saitama was too painful to bear.

"I just... I want you to know, I..." Genos couldn't look at him, but Saitama sounded awkward. Of course, saying this to another guy must be uncomfortable for him. "I appreciate you. I know you're amazing."

"Please stop," Genos said through clenched teeth. Tears were gathering in his eyes, but he forced them open. "Just stop, sensei. Why..." He bit back what he wanted to say, and was a little surprised himself when what came out was, "Why can't you leave me alone?"

Saitama had been leaning toward him, hand outstretched, but now he jerked back. "I'm sorry," he blurted. For a second Genos could see pain on his face, but then there was nothing, a blank mask. "I'll go on ahead, then."

He stood up. Genos said nothing, focused on keeping the tears in check.

"G'night."

Saitama took off running. In seconds he was too far to even hear his footsteps. The sounds of the festival were still faint through the trees, but not even Genos' proximity sensors picked up any people.

Once he was sure he was alone, Genos buried his face in his hands and let himself cry.

Chapter Text

It wouldn't do to mope over something that had been settled long ago. Genos was lucky to have Saitama care about him as much as he did, he shouldn't dwell on the things he couldn't have. That was selfish.

He indulged for long enough to flush out his tear ducts, and moved on. He would go home, and apologize, and things would go back to normal. That was for the best.

But first, he needed to make one stop.

Saitama was still up when Genos got home, only an hour after their... conflict. He hadn't changed, but he'd untucked his shirt and the belt was tossed in a corner, a few extra buttons undone. When he saw Genos he sat up and turned off the TV, vibrating with tension.

“Um... hey. Welcome back.”

“I'm sorry,” Genos said immediately. He placed his bag on the table and sat down, bowing low. “I didn't mean what I said, sensei. At least not the way I said it. Please forgive me.”

“Wh- what?” Genos dared to look up, and saw Saitama staring at him. “I'm the one who should be sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Genos sat up a little more, so Saitama could see his face. “I was... upset. I don't want to talk about... the person I have feelings for. I shouldn't have said what I said. I had a good time at the festival, I appreciate you inviting me. I don't-” He choked on the words. “I don't want you to leave me alone.”

Saitama was half-bent too, mirroring his posture. “I'm glad you're not really mad at me. But I have been all up in your business lately. I wouldn't blame you.”

“I just don't want to talk about that person, sensei. That's all.” Genos sat up straight, but only so he could push the bag forward. “I won this for you, sensei.”

“What?” Saitama peered inside. “Aw, dude! You didn't have to!”

“It was easy, like you said sensei. I just had to calculate which was the right string.”

Saitama took the box out, grinning happily, and flipped it around a few times as he read the labels. Slowly, the grin faded. “This... isn't a PSP.”

“What? But sensei, I thought-”

He sighed. “Look, it's just faceplates. Even says so. But they made the box look like a regular PSP to trick grandmas.” Saitama put the box back on the table. “It wasn't your fault. Maybe we can sell them online?”

“I got it for you, sensei,” Genos said, miserable. “You can do what you want with it.”

“Ah, don't feel bad...” Saitama scooted around the table to sit next to him. “I guess we both screwed up tonight. It was supposed to be a nice evening-”

“It was!”

“But I said something dumb and upset you.”

“It's not your fault, sensei.”

“It's nobody's fault.” Saitama sighed again. “I mean... it is my fault. Because it was my idea. And I haven't been totally honest with you.”

Genos felt a pang of guilt. “It's normal to have secrets.”

“Yeah, well... it's kind of a big deal. And you might get mad at me this time. You'll have every reason to.”

“Sensei?”

Saitama took a deep breath. Paused. Took another. “I promise, I won't ever mention that guy again after this. But ever since I found out about him, that you liked somebody, somebody else... I've been trying to get you to like me instead.”

If Genos had a heart, it would have stopped. If he had lungs, all the air would have escaped from them. But because neither of those things was stopping him from speaking, he exclaimed, “No!”

It was loud. More of a shout than an exclamation. Saitama winced and moved away, and Genos grabbed his wrist with all the strength he had. Too much, enough to hurt a normal human, though Saitama was so strong it was barely an impediment to him.

“Please continue, sensei,” Genos said, sounding ominous even to his own ears.

The look on his face was mingled guilt and fear, and Genos couldn't bring himself to correct it. “Uh, well... I dunno, I guess I've had feelings for you for a while? But it was nice, you being here, being together, so I didn't feel like I had to change anything. Until I found out you weren't happy.”

Saitama gave a wobbly smile. Genos didn't return it, too afraid he was going to burst into tears if he let himself think about what he was hearing.

“I wasn't even sure if you liked guys, you know? I thought so. There's some stuff about you... I guess my gaydar is okay. Bidar? Wait, does it reflect your own thing or the thing you're looking for in other people?”

“I thought,” Genos was practically growling, “you were straight.”

“Uh... no? Why'd you think that? You never even asked me.”

“You said so. To Armored Gorilla.”

“Who?” Saitama's eyes crossed a little as he thought back. “Oh! That time! I thought a weirdo mad scientist was trying to kidnap me, of course I said that.”

“You mean...” Genos swallowed a nonexistent lump in his throat. “All this time? You liked me?”

“Yeah, I guess. For a long time now.” Saitama shrugged. He still hadn't tried to retrieve his wrist. “I won't push you or anything. It's like I said, I'm happy how things are. I wanted to help you get over that guy, and-”

“Sensei, you're the guy!”

Saitama blinked. “I'm the guy?”

“The one I like! You've always been!”

His eyes went wide. “No.”

“Sensei, I...” Genos could feel the tears creeping back. “I...”

“Why me?”

Genos hardly knew where to begin. “You're incredible sensei! You're brave, and kind, and-”

“Yeah, but you say that stuff all the time!” Saitama groaned and rubbed his forehead. “You say that stuff all the time... I'm an idiot.”

“Sensei...” Genos didn't know what to say. If Saitama had noticed how he felt, a lot of pain could have been prevented. But right now, Genos could hardly imagine anything that would make him happier.

“Can I kiss you?”

Except that. Genos sucked in a breath. Saitama's face was suddenly very close, and very serious. “Yes.”

It was soft, softer than Genos expected, a press of lips like a baby animal and then withdrawal. He let out a little sigh, more relief than contentment. After all this time, all this agony, Saitama had kissed him.

It wasn't enough.

Genos let go of Saitama's wrist at last, braced his hands on his shoulders, and kissed him again. Harder, mashing his mouth against Saitama's, feeling his lips move in something that might be a smile. But Saitama kissed back, slid his hands up Genos' spine, tilted his head in a way that made it much easier to open his mouth and slip a tongue inside.

Saitama's mouth was so hot, his arms were so solid around Genos' body, it felt like he might overheat, but he didn't want to stop. He let his hands dip lower, touching Saitama's chest through the tight shirt. Saitama didn't complain, didn't ask him to stop, just splayed his hands across Genos' back to touch as much of him as possible. Impulsively, Genos grabbed the shirt and tore it open, cupping Saitama's bare pectorals with his hands.

This time Saitama pulled back with a gasp, and Genos surged forward, and they ended up toppling to the floor in a heap. Genos' hands were still glued to Saitama's chest, but when he took stock of the situation, he realized he was straddling Saitama's hips as well.

“Oh.”

He looked down at Saitama, who was blushing all the way up his scalp. “Uh... that was a bit much.”

“I- I'm sorry, sensei.”

“Do you think you can get off me?”

Genos considered it. “No.”

Saitama patted his hands, looking resigned. “All right, but we still need to talk more.”

“About what?” Genos looked down at Saitama, flushed and flustered under his hands. “Sensei, I love you.”

Somehow, Saitama turned even more red. “Oh wow. Uh. Wow.”

“Can we kiss some more?”

It looked like it took a lot of effort for Saitama to say, “Not yet.”

“Sensei-”

“If we're gonna do this, and we are, we have to make sure we're not hiding anything else. Right? And- and talk ground rules.”

“Ground rules?”

“Like no more calling me 'sensei.'”

Genos was so surprised he leaned back, putting weight on Saitama's hips in the process. He made note of the little grunt it caused, but didn't mention it. “B- but I couldn't call you by your name! It wouldn't be right!”

“You're not my student if we're gonna date and stuff. That wouldn't be right.”

“But...”

Now that Genos' hands were off him, Saitama sat up and gently tweaked Genos' chin. “We can try it a little at a time. Until you get used to it.”

“Okay, sen- Um...”

Saitama smiled, and kissed him. If that was the reward for stopping himself halfway through, Genos thought he could get used to this very quickly.

“Now, is there anything else you're keeping from me?”

“Not really,” Genos said, distantly, lost in thoughts of future rewards. “I smell your laundry sometimes. And I have pictures saved of you from the bathhouse.” And he'd stalked him for three days once, but that wasn't related to his current feelings.

“Wow. Okay. Well, you're young. I guess I can't hold that against you.”

“Sensei? Are you hiding anything?”

“Uh... Well as long as we're confessing creepy crush stuff, I watch you sleep sometimes. And I saw you kissing Iaian and it really depressed me.”

“You saw that?” Genos frowned. “I- I'm sorry sensei. We were just trying it, because we...” He stopped.

“You what?”

“I- I can't tell you. That's Iaian's secret, not mine.”

“Huh. Okay, that's fair.” Saitama started trying to wriggle out from under Genos, and grunted again.

“Sensei?” Genos leaned closer. He had to struggle not to smile. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“Uh. Kinda.” Saitama's ears seemed to be the first part of him that began blushing. That was important information.

“Do you want me to get off of you?”

“I'm... conflicted.” Saitama smiled, sheepishly. “We can kiss some more now, though.”

It was a beautiful day.

The sun was hidden behind clouds, the wind was biting and cold, and it had rained just enough for mud to be tracked everywhere, but it was a beautiful day anyway, because Saitama had never been happier.

Even the massive monster that went down in less than a single hit (the shockwave of the blow knocked it down before the punch even connected) wasn't enough to spoil Saitama's mood. He hung out for a moment afterward, indulging some girls who wanted him to take their picture with the monster's head, and when he started to turn back toward home he heard wooden sandals clattering on the sidewalk.

“You!” a voice shouted. A middle-aged guy in a cloak and a haori jogged up to him. It took a second, but Saitama recognized him as the samurai from S-Class.

“Oh, hey, you. Hi.”

“Ah, Caped Baldy.” The man scowled. “Did you see who defeated this beast? I've been tracking it from M City, but-”

“Yeah, me.”

“You?” He stared at Saitama, disdainful. For a second Saitama psyched himself up to get offended, but then the guy's expression smoothed. “Ah, well done. Was it a tough battle?”

“Not really. I've had tougher.”

“Hm.” He turned to examine the body, ignoring the girls who were now giggling and taking pictures of him. Saitama tried to pretend he didn't care they hadn't wanted any of him.

“Hey, you know, we know more people in common now.”

“What?” The samurai glanced back at him.

“Yeah, Genos and Iaian went on a couple dates.”

“What?” He spun around, cape swirling. He bit the grass hanging out of his mouth in half, and spat the end of the blade out. “They did? Demon Cyborg and Iai?”

That was kind of an extreme reaction. Suspicion was starting to bubble in Saitama's head. “Did you not know?”

“No...” He tugged his cloak straight. “It's none of my business. Even if he's my student. He's a young man, he has every right to a personal life.”

“Iaian's great, though, huh? Very, uh...” Saitama struggled to think of a compliment for a guy he didn't know much about. “Dedicated.”

“Of course! Very much so! He's my best student, he's never let his performance slide, even when... he perhaps should have taken some time off.” He was scowling, but Saitama could see the worry lines between his eyebrows.

“Too bad they broke up.”

“What?” He whipped his head around again. “They broke up?” Suddenly he seemed to realize how worked up he was getting. “I mean... None of my business.”

“Yeah no, I guess Iaian liked someone else?” That was a shot in the dark, but Saitama felt confident in it. Genos and Iaian did have a lot in common. “So they broke up. Kind of a bummer.”

The samurai guy didn't say anything, staring at something above Saitama's head.

It might be too much, but Saitama added, “He probably needs cheering up.”

“What?” The samurai lowered his gaze to meet Saitama's eyes. “Don't tell me how to handle my own students.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Saitama raised his hands. “Genos is doing a lot better since I talked to him, though. Just a thought.”

He snorted. There were trees planted along the sidewalk, weeds and wild grass growing around the roots, and the samurai snatched up a tall blade of flowering grass and chomped down on it. “You haven't proved yourself to me yet, B-Class.”

“Whatever dude.”

Saitama watched him go. It was starting to rain again, he'd just been snubbed by a guy pretty obviously crushing on his much-younger student, and he could hear the teenage girls making fun of his head.

But when Saitama got home, Genos would be waiting to kiss him, and tell him how great he was, and Saitama would tell him in return.

It was a beautiful day.