Genos usually thought of himself as a practical man with a propensity towards efficiency and he had observed Saitama to behave in similar patterns as well. Saitama was akin to his late mother in regards to the means of saving money in a practical manner, charging into crowded supermarket sales for discounted food and penny pinching when it came to billing expenses. In this sense, Saitama had endeared himself to Genos, as a strange ghost of his past. He would never have his family again and his own normalcy had been so long forgotten that sometimes the ordinariness of Saitama's humdrum life confused him.

"What do you want for dinner?" Saitama asked, rummaging in the kitchen. His head was in the fridge, perusing its contents. It was always stocked with food at the beginning of the week; at the end of the week, Saitama would go to the supermarket to refill its empty shelves and the monotonous cycle would begin again.

"Anything," Genos replied. His mother used to ask him that question too. He had been pickier back then, as a child that was the fruit of his parents' eyes, and whatever he asked for had been granted to the best of their ability. He had never known for want.

But that was in the past. The Genos of then might as well be dead; the body his parents had gifted him with has long been replaced with military-grade alloys, the mind that stored his memories had titanium processors, and his heart was a core that let all his cybernetics run smoothly. He could hardly be called human anymore.

Saitama hummed a note as he started pulling out the leftover pork meat and vegetables. "How does curry sound?" He started rummaging around the cabinets for the curry blocks that Genos knew he kept with the seasonings.

"I could cook it, if you'd like," Genos offered.

Saitama gave him a scrutinizing look. "You learned how to cook?" He sounded dubious.

Genos would be offended if he were anyone else, but he knew how absurd he sounded too. A cyborg, with no need to eat organic matter, cooking? Ridiculous.

"I can follow instructions," he said.

Saitama stared at the food ingredients and then looked back at Genos. "Okay," he said, "but if you screw it up, you have to eat it all."

Genos nodded. "Fair enough," he said, and he pulled the pot out from its resting place on Saitama's dish rack. "But if it's good, please eat it all, Teacher."

Saitama's blank expression flickered for a moment and then he smiled. It was an ordinary, simple smile, one that he wore often in moments of small personal victories. Genos noticed it often enough to categorize it in his memory banks and he could play back all the times that Saitama had shown him the exact same smile, which was a total of 137 times and counting.

"You're on," said Saitama, helping Genos pull the rest of the kitchenware out of their respective drawers and cabinets.

That night, Saitama ate and ate and ate until he was practically comatose, leaving Genos to clean up the dishes and store away the leftover curry. It'd be kinder to let him rest.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Doctor Stench sighed.

"This shouldn't be beyond your ability to fix," Genos said. He was missing a good portion of his torso, several pistons of the condensed biofuel converter that was housed in its cavity was mangled and his core had just avoided destruction by a hair's breadth.

The doctor sighed again. "Really," he said, a hint of disappointment in his tone. "Your master is a cruel one."

"He is not," Genos snapped, his tone abrupt and short. Then, realizing that Doctor Stench was only worried about him, he lowered his gaze and said in a softer voice: "Teacher didn't do this. It was my fault. He saved me in the end, again."

"Which brings me back to my original point," Doctor Stench said, "please stop being so reckless."

Genos's optic lenses followed the man around the room as he puttered from his workbench to his computer, where half of Genos's systems were connected to as he was being prepped for repair. When he closed his eyes, he could see the diagnostics running in the background, and he could tell that it would take a while—probably even up to a week—for Doctor Stench to get him up and running again.

"I am doing my best," he replied.

Doctor Stench smiled thinly. "I'll have to put you under for the next bit of your repairs," he said. "Just for a day or two. Is that alright with you?" He always waited for Genos's consent before doing anything, as if afraid that he'd be repulsed by the idea of mechanics within his body. Genos would never be repulsed and he had never regretted the fact that he was now a cyborg, but he was aware of the fact that Doctor Stench harbored some sort of misplaced guilt in taking away his last years of childhood. As far as Genos was concerned, the day his family had been literally ripped from him was the day his childhood ended.

Genos didn't reply immediately. "I," he said, and then hesitated. Doctor Stench waited patiently.

"I've always strived to be better, stronger, faster. I want to be and I've never looked back on my decisions to become who I am today. But recently, I've been feeling…strange. I look at my limbs and it's like the first time four years ago, when I woke up in your lab. I'm getting ghost sensations of touch."

He looked at the doctor, who seemed to be lost in thought. Finally, the old man spoke and he sounded like a proud father. He clapped Genos on his one intact shoulder and said with a beaming grin: "I'm glad! You're only human after all. I'll see what I can do for you, Genos. You can rest soundly."

Genos nodded, feeling as if a great weight was lifted from his chest. It was strange because he had no nerves there, just hardware of all sorts, and he chalked it up to more ghostly sensations. Doctor Stench moved back over to his computer console and pressed a button, initiating the shutdown sequences to Genos's systems. It felt like falling asleep.

Genos closed his eyes, letting the darkness wash over him.

"Good night, Doctor."

"Good night, Genos."

Doctor Stench restored to him a limited sensation of touch. It was only in the pads of his fingers, which were refitted with a light, almost flexible alloy that sent the information straight to his brain like he had somatic senses again.

The first thing he did upon going home was press his fingers to Saitama's face.

Saitama, in the middle of watching his afternoon soaps, froze.

"What—Genos, what are you doing?"

Saitama was warm, his skin an optimal 35°C, but Genos could feel more than temperature. He could feel the curves, the bumps, the skin that stretched over the muscles and bones, the little tick that Saitama was developing just under his eye from irritation. He could feel rather than pick up from his sensors that Saitama was moving to push his hands away, and impulsively, he said in as quiet of a voice he could muster: "Teacher."

Saitama stilled at that, but he was still tense, though he didn't pull away. Instead, he closed his eyes and let Genos's fingers roam over him in examination.

Touch was strange.

He hadn't ever touched anyone like this before, except perhaps his parents when he was very young, but if there was anything that would make him regret becoming a cyborg, it was this. Genos hadn't even known he missed this sense, too consumed with the anger of vengeance to concern himself with sentimentalities.

He was only human, Doctor Stench had told him. He was an idiot.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Saitama's unsuspecting mouth.

Doctor Stench's face did not look pleased when Genos walked into his lab.

"Where are your arms?" the doctor demanded to know.

Genos wondered if he should lie, but figured that Doctor Stench deserved to know, since he came here with a specific request in mind anyway. "Teacher destroyed them in an accident," he said in way of explanation. "Can you replace them? Also, can you make my mouth more organic? I would like to have the sense of touch there too."

Doctor Stench raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he said slowly. "I can do that. Why did your master destroy your arms?"

"I startled him," Genos said truthfully. "It was my fault."

The old doctor huffed a breath and gestured for Genos to sit down on the workbench. "I really wish you'd be more careful. One day, the only way you'll be coming back here is as scrap metal."

"I won't rest until I find and destroy the mad cyborg," Genos replied. The rage that had built within him for years had been tempered and curbed, but it still simmered beneath the edges of his consciousness, just waiting to explode again. It had been his only reason for living for a long while. "But if that does happen, I'm sorry. Make good use of my parts."

Doctor Stench was quiet for a while, observing Genos with tired eyes. "Let's start with your arms," he said and reached into his vault for spare cyborg parts.

It was plain for anyone to see that Saitama was trying very hard to be firm about rejecting him, but Genos was nothing if persistent. He was hard to avoid—they lived together, after all.

They were sitting across from each other at the low-rise table on the living room floor. "I'm flattered," Saitama was saying, looking mildly distressed. He had a furrow on his forehead from frowning and Genos restrained the want to reach over and touch it, to feel it smooth away under his fingers. His own brows would never furrow like that; his skin had all been replaced with a synthetic replica and the muscles that could control his facial expressions were all gone.

"It's not you," Saitama continued. "I think you're pretty cool and I like you well enough. I'm just not into…men."

Genos had been prepared for that argument. He brought his hand up to his neck, aware of the wary look Saitama was giving him, and waited for his vocal systems to readjust themselves. He cleared his throat, testing out the new voice.

"I can be more than that," Genos said. His voice was a pitch too high for his liking, but it was unmistakably female.

Saitama nearly jumped out of his seat.

"No! Change back!" Saitama yelled, looking more distressed than before. "Don't do that again, it's creepy."

"If you date me, I'll do all the housework for a month," Genos offered.

"What? No."

"A year, then."

Saitama's expression took on a distinctly pinched look. "Genos, this isn't like whose turn is it to take out the garbage—"

It was exactly like that, Genos thought, but he wisely didn't say. "Give me a chance," he said instead. "A month."

"No," Saitama refused.

"Two weeks," Genos tried. "Please."

Saitama sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't hate you, but—fine, then. A week," the man gritted out. "Why the hell am I negotiating with you anyway? I already told you, I'm not into men. I get no joy out of this. Don't blame me if you're disappointed."

He knew this—all of this, but his teacher was kind and open minded for those he cared about and if Genos had a heart, it'd be soaring through the clouds. That Saitama was willing to give into him at all was telling: he wasn't entirely opposed to the relationship idea.

"Does the week start now?" Genos asked.

"Tomorrow," Saitama said. "I'm too tired and hungry for this right now."

Genos nodded in agreement; he wasn't tired or hungry, but he could use the time to strategize. He got up from where he sat and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge to scan its contents. "If you'd like, Teacher, I can heat up the leftover curry. It'll go bad otherwise."

"Yeah, sure," said Saitama though his voice came out muffled. A quick glance back showed that he was resting his forehead against the tabletop, looking the very image of a man who had just lost the biggest gamble of his life.

If Genos was perhaps a better person, he would have left Saitama alone. He would have taken the rejection and left the budding emotional bond he felt towards Saitama to die. But he wasn't and he was confident that he would win in the end.

He brought out the leftover curry, shut the door to the fridge, and pulled out two bowls from the cabinet.

Saitama would change his mind, Genos was sure of it.

"The week starts now."

Saitama gave him a wary glance and sighed. "Is there no chance for me to back out?"

"Please don't play with my feelings like that," Genos replied. He had just finished cleaning up breakfast, the last of the dishes sitting on the drying rack to be put away at a later time. "I am holding up my end of the bargain."

"Alright, alright. So what do you want to do?"

Genos took a seat next to Saitama on the floor, gingerly, as if he was sitting down next to an easily spooked animal. "May I touch you?" he asked.

Genos could tell that 'no' was on the edge of Saitama's tongue, but he held back at the last moment, as if weighing something important in his mind. Whatever conclusion it was that he came to, he didn't share it out loud.

"Fine," Saitama said. "But nothing funny."

"I'm not humorous," Genos deadpanned.

He brought his hands to cup Saitama's face, the sensory pads in his fingers almost itching to touch, and it was at once a rush and reckless sensation. He wanted to press his thumb against Saitama's lips, to know if they'd be chapped or not, and then push onwards and into the cavern of his mouth, to feel the soft suction of lips, the gentle lick of a tongue. He did none of that and instead, let his hands wander to the other thing he had always wondered about: the top of Saitama's head.

"You really are bald," he commented.

"Well, excuse me!" Saitama huffed.

Genos leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Saitama's forehead before he could pull away. His skin felt smooth, if a bit cold, against his lips.

"I like it," he said. "You're not Teacher without it."

Saitama looked like he swallowed something sour.

"Thanks, I think."

Genos had just returned from shopping when he heard the sounds of a video game being played; it seemed that King was over and he had brought yet another distraction for Saitama. He had observed that outside of his hero duties, Saitama remained largely immobile, preferring to laze about and watch television or read comics. Even the houseplants that Saitama owned were low maintenance; being of the desert variety, they only needed the most minimal of watering.

How could such an ordinary man be the strongest person Genos had ever met? How could this man go so unnoticed by everyone? True, his appearance and countenance were as simple as simple gets, but Saitama had taught him more than once to not judge a book by its cover. What mattered was the person underneath.

Setting his burdens down on the kitchen counter, Genos walked over to where the two men were button mashing on the latest gaming console in an effort to beat the other in a simple fighting game.

"Hello," King greeted him warmly, though his eyes remained permanently glued to the television screen as his fingers moved in a flurry over his controller.

"Good afternoon," Genos replied. "Teacher, I've picked up all the toiletries and the groceries for the next week."

"Thanks, Genos," Saitama replied distractedly. On screen, it looked like King was brutally destroying him in a nearly one-sided match.

"I also picked up some lube. I wasn't sure if you'd like the flavored ones or not, so I bought one of every kind they had in stock," Genos continued.

King choked on thin air, his eyes darting from Saitama to Genos and back. Saitama took the chance to beat at King's character in game before King recovered and finished Saitama off with a brutal roundhouse kick that sent the character flying off screen in a declared K.O.

"That, um," King coughed, "that was an…interesting joke."

"Why would I joke?" Genos asked and watched as King's posture go rigid, like a frightened man ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"Erm—"

"We're dating for a week," Saitama explained, though really, that was hardly an adequate explanation. But Saitama did value brevity above loquaciousness and if Genos still had his heart, it probably would have skipped at beat at those words. Now, he thought he could feel his core outputting a slightly higher amount of energy than usual, resulting in an elevated temperature within his metal frame. He pushed his internal cooling system to overdrive, wanting to control the heat before he had to vent it externally.

King's brows furrowed and he opened his mouth as if to ask a question and then promptly closed it.

"Could you put the groceries away?" Saitama asked, clearly taking pity on his gamer friend.

"Of course," Genos agreed. It was part of his bargain after all.

He went back to his discarded shopping bags, still ladened with his purchases, and began the slow process of unbagging everything. His audio sensors picked up the frantically whispered conversation King engaged Saitama in the moment he stepped away from them.

"Congratulations?" King whispered. "You know, if you told me, I would have lent you something other than Doki Doki Memorial. I have a game that a friend recommended me that—"

"I'm not gay!" Saitama whispered back.

If there was one person that Genos had never wanted to see again, it would be the girlish face and figure of Speed of Sound. He was simultaneously happy that Saitama was beginning to get the recognition he deserved and annoyed that this was one of the people that recognized Saitama at all. Sonic was a pest, an ant to be squashed underfoot, but instead, he was more of a really fast cockroach, one that just refused to die.

They had just been walking back from patrolling the residential district of Z City and were heading home when something pinged on his sensors. It was fast, with the distinct heat signature of a human being, and Genos had barely warned Saitama about the oncoming obstacle before Sonic appeared.

"Can't you see you're an annoyance?" Genos all but growled. "Go away or you'll lose more than hair this time."

"I'm not here for you," Sonic snarled in return.

"Children," Saitama said with a put upon sighed. "Please stop bickering. Would you like some cake? Let's go get some cake, I've been craving sweets for a bit."

"Teacher, you should have said so," Genos turned his attention back to Saitama, eagerly choosing to ignore Sonic. "We passed the bakery, but if we hurry, I'm sure we can get there before they close."

"Don't ignore me," Sonic warned, but Genos had taken Saitama by the arm and was physically dragging the man down the street away from the ninja cockroach.

Genos's sensors warned him of a rapidly approaching object and he was certain that a massive fight would have broken out again if not for Saitama catching hold of Sonic's foot before it collided with his face.

"Can you two not get along?" he asked. He seemed to be genuinely confused. "You're quite similar, you know."

If he could, he'd have blanched at the notion. "Please don't kid around, Teacher," Genos said, not at all liking the comparison between them.

"I've gotten faster," Sonic declared. "I went through training hell to beat you, Saitama." He retreated some distance and then vanished from sight; Genos's sensors went haywire, lighting up nearly everywhere as it tried to keep up with Sonic's speed as the man danced circles around them. He was moving too fast for his visual sensors to pick up. Genos had to grudgingly admit that the cockroach had improved since the last time they met and he'd be hard pressed to match Sonic's speed this time. He let all his systems into overdrive to observe the superhuman fight before him.

"You did!" Saitama exclaimed, almost giddy. He had the simple, blank look of bland amusement on his face and he hardly seemed worried at all about Sonic. "Good job. You're very fast."

Flying kunai came from thin air and Genos caught them. He wasn't going to let such measly objects bother his teacher.

Then, just as quick as the fight had started, the fight ended. When Sonic came close enough to touch, Saitama pushed on his shoulder and sent the man flying. Sonic landed in a compost pile down the street.

"Oh, shoot, sorry!" Saitama apologized. "I didn't mean to put that much strength into it, tell me you're okay at least?"

Even from this distance, Genos could make out the shocked and exhilarated expression that Sonic wore on his face and it was all Genos could do to stomp out the irrational feeling of irritation that welled within him. Outwardly, he displayed no emotion.

"Why do you never take me seriously?!" Sonic howled as he climbed out of the trash. "You're making fun of me!"

Saitama frowned. "I'm really not," he muttered. "But feel free to come challenge me again. I'll be waiting."

Genos took that as his cue to steer Saitama away from the nutjob that was Speed of Sound Sonic. "Teacher," he said, making sure to drape his arm over Saitama's shoulders. "We should get going. You wanted cake, remember?"

"Yeah," Saitama agreed, looking momentarily distracted at the prospect of something he had been craving all day. "Let's go!"

Genos casted a glance over his shoulder at where Sonic had previously stood, but the man was nowhere to be seen, long having turned tail and ran. The ghost of a smirk pulled at Genos's mouth as he let himself be led by Saitama back the way they had came to a bakery whose sweets he didn't particularly care for.

"What's this?"

Saitama asked as Genos brought in a large cardboard box. It was fairly light for its size and Genos didn't detect anything dangerous from within.

"It's addressed to you," Genos said, and wondered if it was a gift from a fan.

Saitama's face lit up at the idea and he eagerly took it from Genos. As it turned out, it wasn't precisely a gift from a fan, though it was a gift package. Saitama staggered back in utter defeat when he saw its contents, almost as if his soul had left his body.

Genos snagged the card that was included and read the floral script upon it:

From: King

To: Saitama and Genos

I wasn't sure what to get you two as a congratulatory gift, but I was assured that gifting these to couples were all the rage these days. Have fun. My congratulations again. It was about time.

"It's from King," Genos said, handing the card over to Saitama who stared at it and promptly shredded it to bits.

"Please get rid of them," Saitama said hoarsely, meandering away and plopping himself down in front of the television as a means to cleanse his mind.

Genos considered the gift, still in its original packaging declaring: Adult Fun Time Deluxe Pack! Five different sizes, seven different settings, hours of pleasure! Batteries included! Pictures of the toys standing and laying down on a table were plastered along the case and on the back, there were instructions on how to insert the batteries.

Taking the gift out of the cardboard box, Genos decided that it would be prudent to keep it.

"You have been paying nearly everyone else more attention than me these past several days," Genos said at breakfast, three days into their agreement.

Saitama was paused, the hand that was holding his spoon nearly crushing the silverware. At most, it bent, though not enough to be unusable. The control Saitama had over his strength was considerable and Genos greatly respected him for it.

"Oh," Saitama said. He looked vaguely guilty. "I didn't know if you noticed."

"Please don't treat me like I'm stupid," Genos reprimanded. "And please don't run away from me. While I am not made of glass, emotionally, I still hurt."

Saitama sighed and put the spoon down, staring at the remains of his porridge almost mournfully. "What do you want to do?" he asked. "I'm really not good at the dating thing. I've been rejected by everyone in the past."

Genos's first reaction was to go track down the people that rejected Saitama and convince them of the error of their ways, but if he did such a thing, he'd be creating more competition for himself.

"Let me touch you," Genos said. "Explicitly."

Saitama gave him a long suffering look. "That is what people who are dating do," he stated slowly.

"That is what they do, yes," Genos confirmed.

"Okay," Saitama agreed, even though he looked like he just ate a lemon.

"Wonderful. Let's get started immediately." Genos sidled up to him, slinging an arm over Saitama's shoulders to bring them closer together.

Yet, something stayed his hand.

It wasn't the despondent look that Saitama wore or even the fact that he himself was feeling just a tad flustered about the fact that he was given permission to touch Saitama however he wanted. It was the tension in the air, from something unspoken, and it broadcasted loudly from the stiffness of Saitama's shoulders to the way his hands were clenched into fists from where they rested on his knees.

"I wouldn't pressure you into anything you didn't want," Genos said softly.

Saitama shook his head. That wasn't it. No one in the world could make Saitama do something he didn't want to.

"Have you done…this before?" Saitama asked. He gestured between the two of them.

"No," Genos replied, as it slowly dawned on him that what Saitama was worried about wasn't the idea of a relationship or sex with Genos, another man; it was the fact that he was a complete and utter virgin in every sense of the word. He was afraid that Genos would judge him for his lack of experience.

"You're my first kiss," he said, and suddenly, he felt shy. "When Doctor Stench gave me the new somatic sense upgrades, you were the first person I touched. It had to be you, Teacher. I—I couldn't—"

"Oh," Saitama murmured. "So that's why. I did wonder what's made you so touchy-feely lately."

He brought his hands up to cup Saitama's face, still marveling at the sensation of touch, to feel the softness of his teacher's cheeks, the bones beneath the flesh. Unlike all the other times, this time, Saitama relaxed. He let Genos run his fingers over his face, touching and sensing like a blind man.

This time, when Genos leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Saitama's lips, there was no knee-jerk reaction that would send him back to Doctor Stench's lab for replacement parts. This time, Saitama let him be kissed and kissed back.

They were both completely new at this, their kisses clumsy and short, but just being able to feel Saitama's lips against his own—rough, slightly chapped, but soft and very, very nice—lit a fire within him. He wanted more and he knew he had permission to do more. They were both consenting adults here and aside from their hero patrols later in the day, their schedule was clear. Genos was going to take advantage of that free time. Thoroughly.

"G-Genos," he heard Saitama mumble, felt the words against his own mouth and for a moment, it sounded foreign. "Genos. Genos!" Saitama broke away, looking slightly worried.

"Yes?" He did a quick scan using his sensors and there was no annoying ninja in the near vicinity, nor did there seem to any sort of weapon or world-ending situations headed their way. In fact, they were quite alone in their apartment and Genos wanted to keep it that way.

"Are you…overheating?" Saitama pressed against the spot where his heat sinks were placed in his arms.

Genos was surprised that Saitama could tell the difference between his normal temperatures, but then again, he was always an exceptional man. There was no reason why he couldn't tell that Genos's internal system was heating up.

"I'm not overheating," he replied. "I'm used to handling high temperatures and I have internal and external cooling systems in place specifically to handle overheating. I am just warming up. Can we please continue? I would very much like to taste you, Teacher."

"Oh."

That was how, five minutes later, Genos had brought out a minty flavored lube and was liberally applying it to Saitama's erection.

"This has progressed extremely out of hand," Saitama was saying, his voice breathy as Genos pumped at his cock. "Why…?"

Genos understood the meaning of he question without any further prompting. "My mouth may be organic looking and feeling, but it is still artificial and therefore, does not provide saliva. Lube will help, since I don't think a dry mouth would feel good. I want this to be pleasurable for the both of us."

Saitama groaned, his hips bucking up once unexpectedly. "Are you sure you're not just a horny teenager?" Saitama asked. "Because even though you're—" The rest of his words were cut off when Genos swallowed his teacher's length whole. He had no gag reflex and no need to really breathe, so he took it all to the hilt, his nose pressed against Saitama's skin. Whatever it was that made Saitama so strong, it took away his hair. All of it.

"Warn me next time!" Saitama scolded and then threw his head back as Genos bobbed, applying a gentle, methodical suction to the cock in his mouth as he went.

His tongue laved over the organ, tasting it and memorizing it, feeling out how Saitama liked to be licked, how much pressure can he use until it was too much. Most of all, he was watching Saitama's reactions, listening to the panting sounds that escaped his lips like the most exotic of whispers.

"Teacher," he moaned around Saitama's cock and that was when he found his teacher's limits; Saitama's whole body tightened and seized, his cock shooting ribbons of cum down Genos's throat. Genos patiently swallowed the cum, working his mouth so he lapped up every single last drop of it, then popped off Saitama's cock with an obscene noise. His mouth felt slick and warm and he pressed a sloppy kiss to Saitama's hip.

"Teacher?"

Saitama groaned, his limbs sprawled as he stared up at the ceiling. "Is that what I've been missing out on?" he asked, his eyes glassy and far away. "Is that what sex is like?"

Genos didn't have an answer. He assumed that sex was different for all individuals and he knew that Saitama knew too. It was a rhetorical question.

Saitama looked at Genos, still poised between his legs, and then looked back up at the ceiling as if it had done him a great number of wrongs. He had a hand in Genos's hair, though he was gentle about it and didn't pull, just lazily carding his fingers through the synthetic fibers.

"I can't believe a robot just gave me a blow job."

"Teacher, I'm not a robot. I'm a cyborg. Please learn the difference."

When the mail from the Hero Association was delivered, the packages containing them were larger and heavier than usual. Genos couldn't recall a recent world-ending catastrophe that they've adverted and wondered what could have caused the sudden surge in fanmail.

"I must be shooting up in popularity too," Saitama said, sounding genuinely happy despite the blank look on his face. "Must be all my public appearances lately."

Genos wasn't sure about that and if he could, he'd screen Saitama's mail before he got them.

Genos watched apprehensively as Saitama opened the overstuffed box, prepared to flamethrower it if any of the contents went too far. His teacher picked out a plain white envelop addressed to him in a girlish hand and opened it with subdued eagerness.

I hATe YOu.

There was no preamble, just the words written erratically in big, felt tipped marker that almost made it look like an occultist's cursed talisman.

Genos should have burned the box on sight.

Saitama didn't seem the tiniest bit phased and continued on with opening his letters. They all seemed to express some degree of hate and anger, sometimes in incomprehensible gibberish, about something that Saitama had done recently. Then, at the bottom of the pile were two stacks of envelopes bound together by rubber bands.

"What makes these so different?" Saitama wondered out loud as Genos gathered up the hate-mail to use as kindling for barbecue later. Saitama opened the first one he grabbed, a pink envelope that was sealed by a glittery pink sticker.

Congratulations! You two are so cute, I hope you have a happy life together!

The second one contained a drawing of Saitama and Genos doing unspeakable things to each other. He shoved it back into the envelope before Genos could get a good look at it.

"Well," said Saitama as he backed away from the table.

"Don't you want to see what's in the rest?" Genos asked because he really wanted to.

"Not particularly," was the response and Saitama sighed. "Why's everyone mad at me for this? They should be mad at you! You're the one that came up with all this. How did anyone know we were dating anyway, it's not like you kiss me in public."

Genos had no idea, but he assumed it was someone smart enough that saw him and Saitama out together, perhaps on patrol, or perhaps it was from dinner last night when Genos had reached over the table at the teppanyaki place to wipe away the sauce from the corner of Saitama's mouth. Either way, people knew.

"I am sure there are people angry with me too," Genos said as he finished organizing the hate-mail. He had rolled them up and rearranged them from best burning material to least.

When he opened his own box that had been crammed till it was nearly overflowing, the first message he received was a heartfelt letter of woeful sorrow, regretful choices, and a promise to castrate Saitama if he set a toe out of line. The next one was a tearful demand as to why he would choose Saitama of all people to date. The one after that implied that Saitama was an evil dictator from an alternate universe and was manipulating him into a relationship for his body and that he needed to be careful and snap out of the mind control soon.

"Why are they all seeing me as the bad guy?!" Saitama threw his hands into the air in exasperation.

Genos agreed as he continued opening the letters methodically. Saitama would hardly make the first move; he was more of a react person than an aggressor, a go with the flow kind of man. Genos envied that confidence and security that Saitama had within himself and was simultaneously enamored by it.

"I'm going to go for a walk," Saitama said, getting up and scratching at the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "All this is…weirding me out."

"Alright," Genos acknowledged. "I'll finish going through them to see if there's anything worth reading."

"Okay, I'll catch you later," said Saitama, grabbing his keys and wallet off the counter and nearly zooming out of the apartment.

When his sensors indicated Saitama was a fair distance away, Genos turned to his teacher's unopened pile of letters and began the not-so arduous task of opening and reading them.

It was the last day of their agreement when Genos decided to ask: "Can we have sex?"

Genos neatly ducked the spray of food when Saitama spat out a mouthful of barbecue. They were outside in the empty lot next to their apartment and were roasting the discount meat and vegetables they got yesterday from the supermarket. The weather was fine for a late spring afternoon; it wasn't too hot and the sky was cloudless and sunny. A warm breeze occasionally blew by, promising an early summer.

"What is it with you and asking me these questions when I'm eating?" Saitama grumbled.

"Coincidence," Genos replied. It had really, absolutely, positively, unquestionably no reason to do with the fact that he liked watching the way Saitama's mouth worked. There was nothing inherently sexy about eating. Not at all.

"Sure," Saitama agreed, though he had the oddly pinched look on his face again. "In for a penny, in for everything, am I right?"

The saying was wrong, but Genos didn't correct him. He let himself smile and nod. "Of course."

After the barbecue, Genos was left to clean up while Saitama went back to the apartment first to "mentally prepare," he said. Genos was looking forward to it and his mood could almost be called jolly when he disposed of the trash when his sensors indicated something coming up from underneath him.

Some ridiculous amalgamation of a traffic cone and a mole came popping out, screaming about revolution and how it would annihilate civilization as it stood, and Genos incinerated it on the spot. He dropped it back into the hole it came from and yelled into it, in case the mysterious being had friends with it.

"If any you show up here tonight, I will not only incinerate you, I will hunt every last one of you down and destroy you in the most painful way possible. This is the only warning I'll give."

He quickly shored up the hole and went inside, not wanting to keep Saitama waiting. He opened the door to their shared apartment and the first thing he saw was Saitama pulling on his cape and gloves.

Saitama tilted his head towards the droning television that was broadcasting a live feed of an upgraded Dragon-level disaster happening in the center of Z City. Mysterious beings were running amok, causing havoc and massive amounts of property damage as they moved in a swath through the streets. An emergency evacuation had been issued by the Hero Association and any hero available was being called to action.

"Time for work," Saitama said, looking grim.

"Yes, Teacher," Genos replied. He looked down at his palms and wondered if the confused, frustrated feelings he was nursing was what it felt like to be cock blocked.

It took them six hours to take care of the mob of mysterious beings. It took six hours, with the help of Miss Blizzard and her group, two A-ranked heroes, and Saitama and himself, to quell the stampede and at the end of it, Genos was broken again.

Within the first hour, Genos had already lost sight of Saitama, too busy helping civilians that were unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire. It shouldn't have taken so long, but with the HA as short-staffed as they were, no reinforcements had come. Taking out the mysterious beings was fairly simple, it was the fact that there had just been so many and they were spread out so wide that the last bit of the night was spent searching for any mysterious beings that had broken away from the main group. There were quite a few and the hunt lasted much longer than Genos had liked and he had gotten careless in his last encounter.

"This brings back memories," Saitama said, grinning slightly as he dug Genos's torso out of the rubble. He had appeared out of nowhere, slapped the mysterious being Genos had been fighting into the realms of outer space, and declared that it was time to go home when he spotted Genos's predicament. "You were in pieces back then too."

"I'll need to go back for repairs," Genos said and he couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Have you ever tried, you know…not being so self-destructive? I'm sure you can find better ways to fight."

Genos frowned. "Why?"

"You're always under constant repair," explained Saitama as he went and retrieved Genos's legs. "It just seems like an inconvenience when each time you fight, you end up losing a piece of yourself."

Saitama easily tossed Genos's torso over his shoulders, letting Genos cling to him like a child. Genos's legs he hefted under his arm and strode effortlessly down the street, unaware of the turmoil that thundered within Genos's mind.

The night was alight with the sounds of ambulances and other emergency vehicles as they moved through the ruined streets, sometimes even going onto the sidewalk when there was rubble in the way. Construction crews were already at the scenes, creating temporary road solutions for the emergency workers. Z City was no doubt going to have another wave of people leaving and the city was going to become even quieter.

Upon seeing an ambulance stuck on the road, Saitama trotted over and with a fist, destroyed the concrete slab that was pinning it. He didn't even wait for a thanks before continuing on, carrying Genos like he weighed next to nothing.

"Teacher, you're incredible," Genos said. He had his arms locked around Saitama's neck and shoulders and what remained of his body bounced as Saitama walked with a spring in his step. His teacher was entirely unscathed; the only bits of him that was dirty were his gloves and perhaps the edges of his white cape.

"I owe you so much," he murmured against the back of Saitama's neck. "My life has been saved by you so many times, I don't know how to repay you. I will try to be a little less reckless; it was never my intention to seem like I was throwing my life away. I didn't mean to worry you, Teacher. Though I miss my family, I am not suicidal. I was simply doing what I thought was right and I can see now that the way I handle things may not be entirely the best way to go about it."

"You talk to much," Saitama replied. "Think about what you want to say and then summarize it in ten words or less."

Genos thought about it. "I love you and please don't worry about me."

Saitama nearly tripped over a pebble on the road.

"I can drop you here," Saitama threatened.

"Please don't."

"Sometimes, I think you are the cheekiest little shit I've ever met," Saitama said with a sigh. "You can be annoying too. But you're a good person and I like you. We can have sex when you're fixed."

It took a moment for what he was saying to puncture through Genos's brain. "But today's the last day of our agreement," he said. "I won't be fixed for another week, at least."

"Yup," said Saitama.

"Are you sure?" Genos was incredulous, a metaphorical swelling of happiness building in his chest. He was certain that Saitama could tell because his teacher patted the back of Genos's hand.

"Don't get me wrong," Saitama continued, "I don't like men and I don't really think of them that way. But I like you and what we have back at home, though it's all I have to give. Is that enough?"

Genos shifted his arms so instead of clinging to his teacher, he was hugging him from behind. "Yes," he said, wondering if his voice was shaking or if his body temperature was giving him away again. He held on, tight, as Saitama continued his jaunty way through the desolated streets of Z City, carrying him into the night, back to their home. "Yes. Yes. That's enough."

End

Omake

"I'm really starting to hate mail these days," Saitama grumbled when Genos came in with a package.

"It's from Master Bang," Genos said. The box was small and light and considering the sender, shouldn't scar Saitama too badly. "It's addressed to you, Teacher."

Saitama carefully took the box like it was going to bite him and opened it. Inside revealed a white congratulatory card sat atop conspicuous black plastic packaging.

To: Saitama and Genos

From: Bang

I've come back from vacation to some wonderful news. Congratulations are in order and I hope you two are happy. I can tell that you two have genuine affection for each other and in trying times, I hope you remember that. Congratulations and I heard gifting these to new couples is in style these days. I made Charanko pick them out so if you have any complaints, send it to him.

"Oh god," Saitama groaned as he stared apprehensively at the black box. "What the hell."

"I'll open it," Genos volunteered and gingerly opened up the packaging to reveal an incredibly indecent black bunny outfit, complete with ears, and what looked like a buttplug for a tail.

"Return it," Saitama growled.

Genos hesitated. "I think that you'd look rather—"

Saitama leveled him a scathing look. "Return it," he said again.

Genos put the the bunny outfit back into the box with great austerity and regret. Then an idea came to him. "From the shape of the outfit, I can get implants and—"

"Return it."

Genos closed the box with a sigh. One day, perhaps, but not today.

End

I had a great time writing this and I hope you guys enjoyed it just as much. Leave a review and let me know!