Work Text:
No one expected it.
Gen certainly did not, and the mentalist was known to foresee and expect more things than most people. Though, it would be unfair to assume that no one else expected it, since Gen was the only one present to hear what Senku said. Not only was he the only one present, but he was the only person at the receiving end of it.
Gen expected Senku to say a lot of things that came with the usual laboratory venture between a scientist and a non-scientist. They were attempting to recreate Cetirizine. Well, Senku was, and Gen once again played the lucky part of aiding Senku every step of the way. Senku could have easily requested its production with more researchers unpetrified, more laboratories built, more technology advanced; but apparently making a drug for allergies was simply “a way to pass the time”. Nothing surprising. Senku could find the cure for five diseases at once and call it a day off.
“Gen, can you grab the beakers and petri dishes?” Expected.
“Start the heating process for me, please.” Expected.
“We still have gelatinous starch stocked, right?” They did, and expected.
“Find the titanium dioxide.” Expected. Not the ingredient itself. Just that Senku would ask for ingredients.
“We should get married.” Not expected. At all.
“ Eh?! ” The finished powder sat heavy in Gen’s hands, just freshly packaged and ready to be delivered to one of the newer pharmaceutical laboratories for testing and confirmation. Gen looked at Senku for a second. Then two. Then three. The scientist never looked up from taking off his gloves and Gen never stopped following Senku with his gaze. “C-come again, Senku-chan?”
Then Senku halted in his place. “I said we should get married,” he reiterated. As if he was simply inviting Gen to shop for groceries. “If you want to, of course.”
If the unsuspecting victims in TV prank shows or the subjects in two-way mirror social experiments were given the chance to be interviewed right after, they’d describe the exact feelings Gen was feeling at that moment.
“Are you proposing ? In a lab ?!”
“I’m suggesting formalizing our relationship, yes.”
“That’s what a proposal is, Senku-chan.”
Senku shrugged. Shrugged. Gen had watched plenty of viral wedding proposals before the petrification and in not one of them did he ever witness either party shrug. “Then yes, I am proposing.”
He’s a mentalist. He should have known how to make sense of situations like those. “It’s not my birthday.”
“What difference would it make if it was?”
“You don’t get pranking rights when it’s not April Fools.”
“You’re not an idiot. I wouldn’t know how to prank you no matter the date.”
Gen despised that Senku was seldom wrong. He despised even more that the circumstance was not part of the rare moments of wrongness Senku had. It made sense for Gen to rarely distrust a man who rarely miscalculated, but lies always had tells. Tone. Facial expression. Eye activity. Body language. Mannerisms.
Senku’s voice when he asked rang out as monotone as Gen’s high school teacher teaching seven AM algebra. There was almost no difference in the expression Senku wore while calmly measuring miscellaneous liquids and the one he wore during and after he proposed, save for slightly wider eyes that landed on Gen more often; probably in anticipation. His stance remained lax for a man who just casually returned Cetirizine to a world that was long devoid of it, and Gen could not find a single displaced mannerism for the life of him.
Really, looking for a liar’s symptoms in Senku was unnecessary. Common sense and experience should have told Gen that Senku would never lie to him. At least not for anything like that. All that reading through physical tells only told Gen that Senku had been waiting for an answer, and Gen had one.
Gen’s mind screamed that answer in a continuous stream of words that could outdo the raging current of the Amazon. And though usually answers came to Gen after careful mental counseling with himself, that time the answer felt like it had been sitting at the forefront of his mind and the tip of his tongue for as long as he and Senku have known each other.
There was no time for his heart to pick up speed. No time for his cheeks to gain color or for butterflies to flutter in his stomach. For the grave suddenness of the moment, Gen had known that he would not mind spending his entire lifespan by Senku’s side even before the nameless connection between them started growing stronger. It was just a matter of when he’d say it.
Then again, very few things required being said between the two of them.
“Yes. We should.”
Yes. Yes. Gen said ‘yes’ and meant it. Wanted it. Declared it without a regret in the world.
And Senku… smiled. Not a special, teary-eyed smile or an obnoxiously wide one. Just Senku's usual smile as though that one sentence didn’t just shift what was an ordinary day into a not-so-ordinary one. The petrification made it possible to treat fatal wounds like knee scrapes. Gen supposed they had the privilege to treat marriage like something off the daily to-do list.
Falling victim to perhaps the most harmless contagion there was, Gen found himself wearing the same smile as Senku. He still waited for the punchline. He still waited for the hidden cameras to be revealed. He still waited for that smile to morph into a laugh. But Senku’s smile only remained true and firm on his lips, asking yet again another question Gen never could have prepared himself for once more.
"Are you free this Saturday?"
~~~
“Croatia. This Friday? Of course you already have flight tickets- no, no that’s just the broth boiling-” Gen tried keeping his voice calm while Ryusui on the other line barely took a breat, taking the mentalist through that week’s diplomacy visit. The phone wedged between Gen's shoulder and cheek almost slipped down to meet a tragic, boiling fate if not for his own swift, umami-smelling hands. “Oopsie, sorry. They were supposed to schedule a show for me by Saturday. How am I gonna do that if I’m in Croatia playing spokesperson for Japan’s scientific team— I’m not even a scientist!”
His apron loosened as he leaned on the half-messy counter, wiping a single bead of sweat from his face. To think he was hoping to bother Senku after his show.
“Ryusui-ch- has this been discussed with Senku-chan? Mm. So Croatia this Friday, and the show gets postponed to next week. The documents will be sent… tonight? Learned before Friday- you could have sent it earlier- aH-”
Gen jumped when the boiling broth began spilling over the pot’s rim, the tell-tale sizzle of the stove fire meeting hot liquid drowning out Ryusui’s voice through the phone. Frantically, with caution, Gen lowered the flames. “Got it, Ryusui-chan. Just send it over and we’re good- yes! Not a problem at all, okay bye—"
Never mind the stress that would be the upcoming weekend. Gen overfilled his pot and the stove was a mess of flavored water and wasted seasonings. Sighing, Gen made quick work of a washcloth to rid the area of the mess, bringing the stove back to life and finishing what was probably going to be a half-decent pot of tonjiru.
Being a mentalist, negotiator, relations officer, and entertainer in the new modern stone world was, though time-consuming, an almost breezy walk in the park for Gen. Words slipped past his lips like slick oil and cards flew from his fingers like they were air. He and Senku had been through so much together from flimsy cola deals to life-threatening wars that Gen started to think both of them were invincible; that somehow Senku held the secret to everlasting life and formed an eerie friendship with death.
Gen never would have thought being Senku’s husband was where the true challenge lied.
It had been a private wedding. Only the most trusted friends and family in attendance. For someone used to the burn of the spotlight, Gen had wanted none of it for the day he and Senku had vowed to be lifelong partners. He had been ecstatic that day. Both of them, but Gen’s elation had been more obvious; earning him a few teasing quips and jabs from the most crucial members of the Kingdom of Science. Still, it came as no surprise when news of their engagement rang through practically the entire unpetrified world just a day after the ceremony. The pride settled bold and firm in his chest, and perhaps even a bit of Gen’s staved off thirst for fame returned seeing their married status on papers and TV.
Then the pressure followed quickly after that.
Gen realized as quickly as he could fan out an entire deck of playing cards in a single hand that the word “husband”, when associated with the man who stayed awake for more than three thousand years and depetrified the entire world, bore just as much weight as all the stone statues they had saved.
The phone ringing brought all of Gen’s attention back, surprised to see that the caller was in fact not Ryusui anymore. “Hey, Senku-chan! On your way back-?”
“Hey. Nah, not yet. One of the representatives from the team pointed out a calculation error on the subway’s engineering. We wanna clear it out tonight so we can work on the main transport mechanism.”
Gen added the vegetables. “Eh? Haven’t you been mentioning that transport thing since last week?”
Senku chuckled on the other end. “Yeah and we kept seeing error after error. The lab people kept getting frustrated that we’re entirely off schedule but I think it’s good that we keep seeing the errors this early on.”
“Mm. And you’ll be running on less sleep again the next day. Your oor-pay eyebags.”
“You have more under your eyes lately than I do, mentalist, so you’re one to talk-” Gen did? Even with the lighthearted snicker that had come with Senku’s words, Gen couldn’t resist the urge to check his face in the smooth metal of their kitchen range hood. “-and the guys haven’t seen you in a while. Ukyo’s starting to think you’re dead.”
Gen rolled his eyes, already thinking about purchasing eye bag cream or badgering Senku to make some for him. “Tell him to try being an unofficial diplomat and a magician on the side and see if he has time to meet me then.” And meeting Senku’s coworkers only sound like a feast of jargon and spouse-related questions.
“Is Ryusui still sending you off to nations we haven’t reached? I thought we already established a separate department for that-”
“Says no one’s better at it than me. Just ‘cause I’m a mentalist doesn’t mean I should keep talking with national leaders.” The sigh Gen heard from the other end resounded so clearly that Gen thought Senku was no more than a few feet from him. “Oh. I made dinner, by the way.”
Senku scoffed. “Really? Since when?”
“Hey! I scrolled through at least four videos for this,” Gen defended through the sounds of his husband’s soft laughter that somehow does not ease his own thoughts. “I don’t want the whole world thinking I’m starving you, Senku-chan,” Gen jested. Joked. Tried to ignore that saying about jokes being half meant.
“You know you didn’t have to, right?”
Gen had been about to say “I wanted to” but that would not have been quite right. “Eh, and you won’t be able to taste either way ‘cause you’re still in the lab.”
“We have a fridge now. And you’ll be eating, too. My turn to taste will just have to come later. I can also bring some with me tomorrow-”
“And have other people taste? Nuh-uh, Senku-chan.”
Senku laughed again; cut short by hushed voices of other researchers consulting him on issues incomprehensible to Gen. “They want me to recheck the computations. See you, Gen. Don’t wait up.”
“... See you.”
The call dropped.
Leaving the hot pot of finished tonjiru Gen never bothered to taste anymore, he went to bed.
~~~
Forgetting an appointment with a friend left no bearing on Gen. Everyone forgot an already scheduled meeting from time to time, neglected to reply to a colleague or even purposefully ignored a friend.
Not a lot of people failed to even update their spouse for the duration of an overseas trip.
News of the current situation and stories of Ishigami Senku had already reached Croatia by the time Gen visited. Gen’s crew was welcomed as members and diplomats of the Kingdom of Science — only a few of the great minds who helped free the world from its geologic confines and rebuild civilization. Gen himself was welcomed not only as the Kingdom of Science’s most esteemed mentalist and strategist, but as one of Japan’s most celebrated entertainers… and as Ishigami Senku’s spouse.
It would be an understatement to say that Gen had been annoyed to have “Senku’s husband” as part of the many labels he already carried. What had been a title he so proudly and emotionally accepted on his wedding day felt like a chain around his shoulders. And chains were only supposed to be for his tricks. Every association and every question that had tied him back to Senku pulled on the weights far more than Gen thought it should have.
Acting civil and unbothered had been easy in the face of people he meant business with. Not as much in the face of the spouse in question when he had called Gen on the second day of his diplomatic visit. Gen had let that phone ring and ring and ring. He had not answered. Senku had not called again since. Which was unfortunate, because Gen took a flight back home to Japan carrying the burden not only of gold-plated titles and expectations he could not live up to for the life of him, but of failing the most basic tenets of that title.
All he had to do was answer a call, and he had failed.
So much for being Ishigami Senku’s lifelong partner.
Gen arrived home with jet lag, a report he had yet to finish, a few Croatian goodies, and a handful of guilt that made looking Senku in the eye that much more difficult. The last concern would not have been a problem considering that it was Tuesday in Japan. Senku should have been at work. And yet the same man was there, a mug of hot coffee in hand, another mug on the table, when Gen unlocked the door at barely seven in the morning.
“S-senku-ch—”
“Mentalist. You’re home. Right as estimated. Coffee’s on the table, you should have some first. Unless you want cola—”
Gen dropped his bags gently, very slowly making his way to their small dining table. “You… should be at work. In the lab.”
Senku shrugged. “We had a breakthrough after days of non-stop working. Everyone agreed it’d be best to recuperate.”
“Ah.” That. How Gen was acting only seconds after arriving home. In no book would that be considered ‘proper’. The steam from his own drink swirled upwards, the liquid in his mug a perfect shade of rich brown. “This is still hot. I never told you my flight details going back.”
“Our airports aren’t back to the same functionality as before the petrification. There’s only one flight to and from Croatia. It’s unnecessary to think about traffic yet. We haven’t gotten around to mass producing cars.”
Gen chuckled. “Leave it to Senku-chan to estimate time so accurately.” The one sip Gen took glided smoothly past his tongue and warmly down his throat, somehow both soothing and aggravating the slight heaviness in his chest. With the opportunity to look around the home he had left for a few days… suddenly the house looked so different to Gen. “Did you clean up around here?”
“Mm,” Senku hummed, taking another sip. “Figured I might as well.”
More things were different. The one cabinet left open revealed restocked shelves, bags on the counter carried vegetables that Gen assumed were for lunch later, the doormat by the bathroom Gen had vowed to clean when he returned now looked identical to how it was when they purchased it. “You did a lot of things.”
“Yes. Any more observations?” Senku chuckled, and yet Gen could not even return the sentiment.
Gen could have talked about his trip and the fascinating tales people had for him. He could have joked about Senku missing a spot on the newly cleaned rug, or bitterly recounted every time anyone mentioned how lucky Senku was to have such a personality as him for a husband, and how Gen was lucky to have Senku. Gen could have done the less right thing and walked up without another word to finally get some rest he felt he’s been lacking the past few days.
But Gen stayed. In silence. On his chair, sipping coffee that was quickly losing its warmth — the weird in-between of proper and improper conduct. The clock over their TV ticked on while the mugs in both their hands lost more weight, and not a single word was shared between two husbands. The sound of fingernails gently tapping smooth ceramic and smooth ceramic gently meeting a wooden table made more of a sound.
Gen knew for a while now he did not deserve at least one of the many, many titles he wore on his sleeve. He regretted to admit to himself that it was the supposed easiest one that he did not deserve the most.
“What’re you thinking, Gen?”
Senku was not dense. Gen needed to be reminded of that often. “The coffee is good.”
“It’s an easy blend. You like an equal ratio of coffee and creamer in terms of taste, it just needs to be translated into amount. But I’m not talking about the coffee.” When Senku set down his mug again, Gen already knew it had been emptied. “You’ve been quiet.”
“... Is this about the call-”
“Even before that. You’re being less annoying that it’s not you anymore.”
Gen at least knew Senku enough to know that he meant well saying that; which should have added more to Gen’s shame that Senku still considered him after his shortcomings. Dragging out a reply never benefitted any side of a discussion, nor was the tactic even professional in the slightest, especially for someone whose words were part of his selling point. Gen tried waiting for any agitation in Senku’s eyes, impatience in his fingers, annoyance on the corner of his lips. And much like how Gen found none on the day Senku proposed, Gen’s hunt turned out fruitless once more.
Gen’s eyes stayed trained on Senku, his eyebrows furrowing. His fingers wrapped tightly around his own empty mug. Gen’s lips thinned as he pressed them together, hesitating to speak aloud what had been on his mind since shortly after their wedding.
“Why did you marry me?”
With a complete lack of any dramatic sense at all, Senku’s response took only a fourth of the time it took Gen to utter his question. “Because I asked and you said yes.”
The furrow in Gen’s brow only tightened. “And you’re not regretting it yet?”
“Why would I?”
“Senku-chan—” Gen’s arms flew out, gesturing to their interior. “Who just cleaned the entire house and did everything I was supposed to? On the only break you’ve had in a while? I can’t even cook a proper dinner. I don’t get to talk to you all that often ‘cause we both have work. I— I even declined your call while I was away—! What kind of a husband does that make me?”
The scientist remained leaning on his chair, watching Gen with an amused expression on his face. “You were busy over the weekend and I wasn’t. Are ‘professional cleaner’ and ‘chef’ part of your jobs now?”
“Senku-chan.” Gen looked at Senku the way a disbelieving mother would look at her abnormally behaved troublemaker. “I… I didn’t message you. Not even once. Over the weekend. And I declined your only call—”
“Which I also tend to do when busy. Which we both tended to do even before we got married.” The smile that had been lingering on Senku’s face finally turned into a chuckle, and soon Senku lost all willpower to stop it from devolving further into a full laugh. “What else? Oh, the food—”
“We haven’t had a proper dinner out in ages and I can’t cook for the life of me—”
“Because we eat at work and we’ve always taken out for dinner or tried cooking together in the very few times we’re free— and so?”
“And they keep asking. ” Gen had told himself he would not dare delve into this issue with Senku. He told himself it’d be too messy of a conversation. But he was never one to back down on his word. “Everywhere I go, everyone I meet, I’m not just a mentalist or a celebrity anymore. I’m always tied to you. ”
“And what’s wrong?”
Gen huffed. “Nothing. If being married to you doesn't mean everyone expects me to act the part.” Gen cleared his throat, beginning a little show of impersonating various people and shifting voices at flawless breakneck speed. ‘Ishigami-san must be so blessed to have you as a spouse.’ ‘It’s no wonder he chose you.’ ‘Married to Ishigami-san himself? What an honor!’ ‘You’re so, so lucky to have that chance.’ —”
“People say those?” Another chuckle bubbled out of Senku, leaning his elbow on the table and awaiting more of what Gen had to say.
“Yes! And they all think we have such a wonderful life together because hearing Asagiri Gen and Ishigami Senku married gave them the ridiculous idea of two powerful people joining hands and living this picture-perfect life—”
“Aren’t we?”
Gen stuttered. “W-we are— but not quite— ”
“Oh?” Senku, interested, a bastard, leaned forward even more, an impish grin on his face. “How?”
“I… I’m happy. I really am.”
“I am too, in case you were wondering.”
“And thank you, but… this isn’t how we’re supposed to be. How I’m supposed to be. We’re married now, Senku-chan.”
“Mhmm. I’m aware. And what does that change, exactly?”
Gen stared. His hands laid flat on the table before him and his dumbfounded expression only grew. “Everything.”
“Huh. I didn’t know. Says who?”
“It’s an unspoken thing.”
“Ah, so it’s not a law.”
“Senku!” Gen practically whined, unbecomingly. He’d regret that if Senku was not being so stubborn.
The other only laughed, shaking his head at the direction their conversation had turned. “Sorry, sorry. Gen. I get why you’re stressed about all this but you’re being ridiculous.” Gen’s head tilted down, his brows raised at Senku, wordlessly relaying his need for more elaboration. “Would you rather not be married to me?”
“No. I— no, I’m not about to say my vows again. You already know I wanted to marry you.”
“Because you wanted to be by my side. For life. That’s what you said.”
“You don’t memorize my entire vow, do you—?”
“Nowhere in that certificate or those vows did either of us say that we were marrying to segregate chores or prepare meals for each other. Or talk more often than we did. We wanted to be in each other’s company for as long as we physically could, and we’re doing that right now.” A soft chuckle yet again escaped Senku. “I don’t know about you but I don’t see the problem at all.”
Senku… rarely made a wrong point. Gen had been foolish to think that the off chance of it happening would happen that day. “S-so—”
“So nothing.” Senku’s hand clasped Gen’s gently, just as firm and soft as he had the day they married. “Nothing changed just ‘cause we signed a certificate. And nothing will change." Then he paused, gaze flitting off to the side. "Hmm…”
“Well?”
“Except for legal conjugal benefits but we’re already enjoying that—”
“Senku-chan.” Though his tone was serious, Gen felt the relief of multiple chains unlocking and sliding off his shoulders, and he could not help but share the same soft laughter Senku had been relishing in. “That’s… no wonder you were so excited to get hitched—”
“In my defense, the benefits only sunk in after the reception. I wasn’t thinking of those when we married.”
Gen held his hand tighter. “Weren't you? I find that hard to believe.”
Senku stood up, hand still holding Gen’s. “You don’t have to. True or not, you have to admit the benefits are great.”
Gen felt Senku pull a little, and he stood to follow suit. “Now I’m starting to question how much influence you had on the new stone world laws.”
“I know Science. Not politics. That’s on you,” Senku blamed, and both laughed. With Senku's laughter came the reminder that signatures on paper did not come with extra, unspoken unwritten agreements; and with Gen's laughter came the unadulterated pride he had been waiting to feel again as the man who married Ishigami Senku. "Oh, yeah. There's fresh eggs in the fridge. Breakfast?"
Their rings clinked lightly when Gen moved to intertwine their fingers, and the day carried on as ordinarily mundane as the day Senku proposed and the day they wed.
"Breakfast."