i promise i'll write something better for genotama at a later time. school has been frying my brain and this is all i could manage.

i just started to blizzard group arc so if i got anything wrong just. asfjwls. don't spoil me okay.

Things were starting to get kind of weird and Saitama had a feeling that Genos was slowly starting to realize that. He never really went into Genos' room— he never had a reason to. From the start it had always just been a guest room. He had peeked inside when walking by and the door was left open, but never had a need to actually be inside. It wasn't even about invading Genos' privacy, he honestly just didn't care.

Saitama had went in there for what was supposed to be a few minutes to search for something (specifically an overdue library book; he couldn't find it and the fees were starting to get outrageous, so he figured it was possible he just threw it in the guest room one day). Instead, he found...well, literally himself. When he walked in, he was greeted by posters of his visage hanging on the wall, cellphone straps and keychains lying haphazardly on the table, action figures and bobble-heads by his futon.

Not only was it strange how much merchandise Genos had of Saitama, but he wasn't even aware he had that much memorabilia. Seriously, shouldn't he be receiving some kind of royalties for his face being used like that?!

He had been so caught off guard by it that Saitama forgot to even look for the book.

Later that day, Genos had somehow realized that he had been in his room (he probably left the damn door open) and actually confronted him about it. That alone was weird. It was as if Genos was ashamed or something.

"Teacher, were you in my room earlier for any reason?" he asked him, and if Saitama didn't know any better, he would say the question sounded shy.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," he replied, "I was just looking for an overdue book." Which he never even looked for. Damnit. He would have to not only pay the fees, but pay for the book at this point.

"I see…" Genos hesitated with his words, "Were you able to find it?"

"Nope."

The conversation ended with that. Genos seemed almost worried, which was astounding because Saitama didn't even know that was an emotion somebody as stoic as him was even capable of feeling. Though, he couldn't blame him, he supposed. He'd be worried, too, if his housemate who he kept an unholy amount of merchandise of happened to see all of it. Not that he'd ever do something creepy like that.

Creepy.

Was it creepy? It seemed like it. There was a line between admiration and obsession and Saitama was pretty sure Genos was starting to cross it. Genos must have knew it, too, otherwise he doubted he would of acted that way.

That aside, why did Genos need so much stuff with his face on it— when he lived with Saitama. When he could look at his face, the real thing, almost whenever he pleased.

...That thought was a bit weird.

"Hey, Genos, you have a package."

At the call, Genos had come to the door where Saitama handed him a box. He quickly thanked him and turned on his heel to go back to his room. Or, at least, that's where he wanted to go, but Saitama wasn't about to let him off that easily.

"So, what's in the box?" he asked with a slight playful ring in his voice.

Genos only turned his head back to him when he answered. "It's...not really important."

Apparently he couldn't even make up an item.

"Is it another figure of me?" Saitama grinned.

"Wh— Teacher, what are you talking about?"

"Or is it a keychain? A poster? That's a pretty big box."

Genos looked away. Saitama thought he looked like he would be blushing if he was capable. He muttered an answer, but it was too quiet for him to hear.

"What was that?" Saitama's voice sounded victorious, although he wasn't even sure himself what exactly he won, "Speak up. Tell me."

"It's—" Genos swallowed, "It's a dakimakura."

...Well. That wasn't the answer he was expecting.

"Of me?" Saitama asked despite that he already knew the answer to that question, but disbelief and shock still rushed through his body.

"That is correct."

There was a long silence between them. Several questions flooded Saitama's brain, but he couldn't decide which one to ask. He couldn't decide if he should be disgusted, flattered, embarrassed, or curious. Instead, he felt an odd mixture of all four..

"Wow, somebody actually makes that crap of me?" was what he finally asked.

Genos didn't answer. Saitama figured there wasn't really a good answer to that question that would make this situation any less awkward. If anything, it certainly cleared up a lot of questions Saitama had about how Genos felt about him. He can't say he ever expected him to have something like some fetishy cuddle pillow. He wondered how lewd the image was, if lewd at all, but those typically were.

He really hoped Genos was the only one who would buy something like that of him.

While he was confused, he did feel a bit offended.

"So you'd rather cling to a pillow of me than the real thing, huh?" when he thought about why he was offended, the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Way to make things less awkward.

If anything good came out of it, it was that he had never seen so much emotion on Genos' face before. Saitama kind of wished he could blush, it might have been cute.

...Yikes. If he wasn't careful, he would see Genos ordering gay doujinshi of them later on.

"Teacher, please do not joke around like that." his voice still remained calm and level, despite his expression almost humorously so.

"I'm not joking." No, no, no— why did he say that?! He was definitely joking!

The tension in the air around them only grew. Genos seemed to be at a loss for words, but then again, so was Saitama.

Finally, Genos turned his head back around.

"I will...consider that." he said quietly and returned his walk to his room.

Although Saitama couldn't see his face, he swore Genos was smiling. Though, he couldn't even really imagine that.

Things were going to get more and more weird around the house, it seemed. Saitama sighed at the thought and continued searching through his mail. Among the advertisements was one letter to him.

It was from the library.