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.