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[ saitama's secret stash...

...is something of a misnomer. there's nothing really secret about it, for one; the man doesn't have a lot of space to work with, and everything there is to see in his home is more or less in plain sight. he doesn't have much to hide, made abundantly clear every time genos performs a thorough bi-weekly sweep of their surroundings.

sensei, this flyer is from last month...
don't mind it, it doesn't expire for a while, you know?

the coupons tend to be long-expired, but genos won't say a thing. it's better to live and let live, or on those cases, not let his sensei know so he can pick up any wanted groceries in his stead. saitama doesn't need to know the real price. if he wants to keep thinking the value is worth something in the long run, so be it. frugality is one of his dozens of virtues, anyway.

what passes for the stash is typically nothing more than the latest magazines, advertisements, and other paraphernalia well-stocked by genos to ensure that sensei is continuing to thrive. originally it started out as something of a team effort (though saitama really hadn't seen the need at the time), growing into more and more of genos's side project over time. it makes sense, what with how busy sensei is these days. there's always a squabble here, a fight there, the here association pulling at their ears all the while...

lately saitama isn't even around, which leaves his young ward to his own devices, more often than not. there's no problem in it when genos has plenty of things to study, hero duties he can catch up on, plus the occasional tune-up at dr. kuseno's lab.

which leads him to wonder: what in the world is with this growing pile of discs in the living room?

video games... genos knows of them. his years spent as a cyborg of justice doesn't mean he's forgotten the past, forgotten some of the things which used to fill his spare time. but why are they filling sensei's? surely his hours could be better spent climbing the ranks of the association, just as he encouraged genos to do. not that sensei doesn't know best; he probably has a plan he hasn't told genos of yet, doing things in his own way. sensei, after all, is the strongest man the world has ever seen. what does ranking have to do with it?

at this point it's purely speculation. they could be here due to any number of things. there's no telling they belong to saitama in the first place. it's entirely possible they might have something to do with how much time he spends around the s-class's seventh best. as for why king would be influencing him to bring home piles and piles of games, it's beyond genos's reasoning. is it for training? it has to be for training.

now he's drawn a conclusion, able to proceed with no issues. a little tidying is fine, far from unwelcome, and sensei will appreciate it. if he asks, it's very possible they could play together too, like he does with the king.

if...oh.

wait.

a lot of these don't look like they're for two players at all...

and that is how the biomechanical boy has found himself sprawled out on the floor in the middle of the afternoon, transfixed by a now-empty jewel case with a scantily-clad girl on the packaging, her moans on the television screen ringing in his ears.

training. this is for training. sensei just needed a little...brushing up on how to talk to women. judging from how genos has fared in his game so far, he doesn't seem to have the same trouble. if anything, it's been all too easy to win over this virtual girl's affections and lure her into the bedroom. surely they don't act this way in the real world, too. genos's fanclub throwing themselves at them left and right is harrowing enough! ]

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[ opens his mouth to say something vulgar to him, to bark back rudely, but it deflates and falls flat as soon as sonic has the words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue. great, now he's being a brat, acting as if he didn't know what the implications are.

an angry flush is the only immediate response genos will get, jaw snapping shut before his eyes go a little wider than usual. this is so stupid— ]

You know what I need, you dumb toaster. [ yanking him down further, a free hand pulls at the covers, not so keen on being out in the open any longer. that ship has sailed, long gone and out of sight. ] Come on.

[ okay, okay. this is as close as he's going to get, which is fair enough.

genos doesn't quite laugh, his expression unreadable as he's pulled along. he does have the audacity to dip down, press a fleeting kiss to sonic's sweaty forehead. this is a test unto itself, but he'll keep that under wraps, since nobody else needs to know. ]

Please calm down. You've been through enough. [ it's not for him to specify what, or spout out some other nonsense about opening up his wounds. it if it meant to be, it'd have already happened, given how vigorous they'd both been a few minutes before. ]

[ oh. if anything, it helps to shut him up entirely, everything going blank while his mind slowly catches up to the sweet token of affection.

why the hell is this happening? sonic should be shoving at his face, close to clawing the cyborg's body away, any number of things that will make him stop doing... well, whatever it is he's unintentionally doing to him. yet he doesn't entirely feel the need to, expression growing dimmer, unsure if it's because he's heeding to genos's request or from exhaustion alone. ]

Yeah, yeah... [ he can't look him in the eye, bunching the thick sheet he's dragged halfway across his body. realizing that genos can't wiggle his way into bed, sonic releases a side, still avoiding his gaze. ] Just... get in, okay?

Edited 2016-01-03 07:20 (UTC)

As you wish. [ good. this is...good. they'll rest, he'll check on sonic in a few more hours, hopefully leave him to sleep while dealing with a lot of the clutter surrounding him, get something for the cat...cook breakfast...

ah. it's almost as if he's thinking about dealing with sensei, and not someone else. now genos is the one who's flustered, carefully masking his features into something more casual than concerned. sonic definitely doesn't need a sneak peek inside that train of thought.

it's deja vu all over again when his broad, heavy limbs squirm under their shared bedcovers. the air smells less like fragrant flowers than it does their sex, and genos's gears hum contentedly at the thought. he hovers next to sonic, curious about the etiquette. instinct insists he reaches out for the man, pulls him close, but he's had yet to notice any indicators that sonic's a cuddler, requiring him for anything further than the warmth his core naturally radiates.

ultimately he's too tired to pick it apart. he's ready for whatever sonic is still up for, regardless of how near or far apart they'll be laying together in the dark. ]

[ cuddling is definitely out of the question. the inkling of want is overshadowed by the stubbornness deep-seated inside his bones, of his first instinct being to flee far away from sentimental things. they're too much for him to stomach, overwhelmed so easily by it.

maybe it's genos's patience and need to seek out what sonic wants the most to have him ignore how he typically acknowledges the idea of closeness. whatever the case may be, the ninja turns his back towards his bedmate, almost as if he's going to shut him out entirely. when he doesn't get the immediate action he wanted, sonic peers over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. ]

What are you doing? I said I'm cold. [ did he really have to show him everything? frustrated over this, with little to no malice lingering behind it, he guides him down, arranging them both to have genos curve around his already huddled form. there, much better, feeling distinctly proud of himself for the accomplishment he has no right to boast about, not when they're now spooning, of all things.

this is only because the brisk air will freeze him from the inside-out in time. that's all there is to it. ]

[ although genos is no expert on this by any stretch of the imagination, it seems...an awful lot like cuddling to him. more so than how they were when they originally found themselves in this arrangement.

is it worth the risk to have his free arm (the other is trapped underneath their now-shared pillow) to wrap around sonic? the calculation is swift, deeming it a fair trade if an elbow happens to slam into where his ribcage no longer is. at least it'd mean getting to hang onto sonic a moment more, remember what his bare skin feels like, different when it isn't tinted by a flush of fever. ]

...I'm doing as you ask. [ a dry remark, stating the obvious. this guy needs to make up his mind, or else genos will just clutch him to his armored chest against his free will and keep him stuck there until nature calls, or some other emergency severe enough to separate him.

until that point, the offending limb is light, barely there, rubber pads of his fingertips splayed across sonic's chest, idling over old scars. ]

[ anything would work for sonic right this second, really. he'd gripe and complain the entire time, make it out to be a bigger ordeal than it really is. but he's tired from more than just sex, the orgasm that removed the shackles of tension from the searing pain he had to work through hours prior. all of these emotions he's flipped through in such a short amount of time is downright exhausting, how does any normal person do it?

figuratively digging his feet into the ground so violently wasn't planned. a lot of this wasn't planned, wasn't on his agenda when he sought genos out, either staying inside with him or dragging him around town and demand he purchase this, that, everything in between. getting off was just a treat in his otherwise horrible day, but it still wouldn't have come to pass if they didn't fall into their roles so well.

glaring down at the pillow, sonic lets out an annoyed snort, wiggling about until he's got himself lodged properly against a hard, broad stretch of steel and metal. it shouldn't feel as good as it does, he's full of sharp edges, heavy scraps that might potentially crush him in the middle of the night. even the peculiar thrill of that disaster waiting to happen doesn't make a lick of sense to sonic.

whatever. whatever! brushing it off is simpler. ]

I'm going to sleep. [ burrows his nose into the plush fabric his head rests on, contorting his body into a tighter ball. however genos wishes to situate himself past that is up to him, wanting nothing more than to be blissfully unaware of their existence. ]

[ none of this bothers genos, who's pressed his luck so far he should be halfway to the moon by now.

it should, he supposes. beyond one short, simple statement from hours and hours ago—which bordered on the edges of gratitude more than anything—he hasn't heard so much of a thank you. getting sonic off does not count in that department. nor does the leeway he's being shown here.

not that a hero of justice does it for the thanks, but as friends, doesn't it run a little deeper? this should infuriate the cyborg; instead it flutters away, like a wisp of cat hair his night vision distantly detects before fluttering to the floor. whatever. never mind. it must be due to his overall lack of energy. after a full shutdown cycle, he'll feel better, more alert, more prepared to slice a new section of sonic's skin if he's going to continue playing like such a little—

—no, no he won't. preposterous. recalling the sight he walked into here nips that one in the bed. it's just sonic running his mouth, showing some sass, hiding his secrets from the world, and from genos. fine. okay.

the tip of his nose burying into dark, tangled hair is his one and only retaliation, making himself no more comfortable than that. genos's guard dwindles in waves, taking his time to complete the whole sequence of coming to rest, listening to sonic's breathing, waiting to see if it's actually going to level out as he drifts off.

he never reaches that point, losing proper consciousness far sooner than he thought. ]

[ mechanical whirring becomes white noise to sonic after a while, strangely comforted by the sound, the telltale signs that genos is shutting down for the remainder of the evening. it serves as the catalyst that helps him drift off as well, blanketed by the reassurance only sleep can give him.

nothing could have prepared him for the vivid images that dance across his subconscious. it knocks him clear off the cloud nine he was supposed to follow into peaceful pastures, landing headfirst into another series of bloody flashbacks, suffocating in a sea of mixed memories. he can't make heads or tails of any of it, frustration burning in his chest at a rapid pace, wanting nothing more than to organize his thoughts, the brief bursts of softer emotions tangled up in the web of distortion.

all of it is gone in a flash, replaced by a familiar face, a cold, polished hand that was much too gentle, golden glowing eyes which seemed to penetrate into the very crux of his core—

a sudden jerk of his head rips him clean of the nightmare (that's what it was, wasn't it?) and back into reality. what in the world...? it's not like this is the first time he's dreamed of nasty scenarios, ones from the distant past and beyond, but it is new to have the cyborg pop up, dissipating the reoccurring scenes he's gotten so used to. still, sonic eventually rouses with a sweat dewing on his brow, no longer at that stage in his life where he'd jump at attention, ready to grab at a weapon and fight. those days are behind him, though he still tucks sharp tools under his futon. that prompts him to blindly search for them, more at ease once he feels the slide of smooth metal run across his fingers.

this triggers another thought, one in which he's hyperaware of the distinct lack of a body next to him.

oh. did genos leave already?

the disappointment is dutifully shoved away, a fleeting emotion he's sure is only due to missing the streams of heat on his back, enveloped completely with a warmth he could definitely get used to. physically speaking, of course. sonic would never think otherwise.

just when the s-class villain is ready to let this go, a scent of something fresh tickles his nose, immediately lifting his head and sniffing at the air. is someone in another apartment cooking? did he even have neighbors? the complex is so quiet all the time, sonic can't be certain. or maybe it's wafting from elsewhere, a quick glance to his shut windows tells him otherwise, confusion settling in for another round.

he's just about to go back to sleep when he hears a clanking sound coming from his kitchen. ] ...? [ that's awfully close-sounding. rolling over to the other side of the futon, sonic peers blearily in the direction of the kitchen. the last thing he expects to see is genos rummaging around, catching a glimpse of him every time he passes by the entrance.

huh. strange, but not as strange as he thought it would be. with an unreadable sigh, sonic turns over to his original spot, lifting the comforter up around his shoulders before closing his eyes. he's probably just dreaming something weird again, convincing himself well enough to help him doze for a while longer. ]

[ genos has been running on autopilot for the last couple of hours. despite the unfamiliar ceiling he'd woken up under, and the man at his side whom he examined, the reality of where he is and what he's doing hasn't fully sunken in yet. he's just going through the motions, half-expecting his sensei to crawl out of the woodwork at some point to groggily ask him what he's planning on doing for lunch.

with his resources limited, he's bustled to and fro, busying himself with an array of everyday chores which seem to have piled up here over time. he separates the recyclables from the regular garbage, puts dirty laundry where it needs to be (why doesn't sonic have a hamper? everyone has hampers), pilfers through the pantry to see what's lying in store. there isn't much to use, but genos is hungry, and he has an inkling sonic might be, too. besides, this could serve as a gesture of goodwill after what's happened in the night. due to him sleeping the morning away—as he should, considering—reading sonic's mood is next to impossible. will he rise in high spirits, or does he plan on putting a knife to genos's throat, thinking him an intruder?

his fingers are crossed none of it will come to pass. it's wishful thinking to hope he might be greeted as a lover, convinced now it must have been a one-time experiment they shared out of desperation, no more, no less. not that it stops the boy from daydreaming; without factoring in the incentives which brought him here in the first place, he doesn't suppose it'd be so bad to wake up like this at least a couple days of the week. it's a nice change from the usual routine he has to go through for sensei, all part and parcel of training under him, yet not as gripping or warming to the gears as this is.

he's a little smitten, he knows. not enough time has passed. after a few more hours, a few days to digest it, he'll move on, acknowledge there's something to be said for laying with another person in his current state, and continue life much as it already was.

maybe. probably. until then: there's food to be made. the kitchen is pretty bare, but sonic seems to have a handful of essential items strung about, even some items in the icebox no older than a day or two. this impresses genos, who had half a mind to run to the nearest shop if he couldn't scrounge anything together in time. knowing his luck, it'd mean sonic would wake up to an empty house, and what then—taking off out of the blue without saying some sort of farewell wouldn't sit well on genos's conscience.

the next stretch of time is spent cooking and preparing. some rice, vegetables, just enough eggs still left in the carton...he'll go s far as to feed the cat a stray piece of raw meat when it wanders through, rubbing up against a pair of metallic legs like he's always been here. although the peaceful moment won't last forever, genos embraces it while he has the chance. he'll have to move on soon, check in with sensei, catch up on any new disasters the city is probably suffering today. he can't be lax on hero work, already losing a day when he'd placed his priorities elsewhere. anyway, where's the ketchup... ]

[ sonic's little catnap won't last very long. his subconscious is hellbent on returning to a state of awareness after several attempts of going under, mildly irked that it's triggered by his stomach that's beginning to grumble, much like he does for the trouble this is causing him.

the dramatics go further than that when he sits up fully, makes a whine-slash-yawning sound, lifting his arms up in the air as much as his dressings will allow. they flop back down on his lap, mind still a bit fuzzy. thus he dazes for another minute or two before he calls out: ]

Toasteeer. [ falls back on the nickname, momentarily surprised how intimate it would have felt if he'd used the cyborg's name. ] I'm hungryyy.

[ is he whining? it sounds like he's whining, a childish gesture he's done so many times before. whether he's doing it just to be annoying will be up to his friend to decide. still, he'll wait as patiently as he can, wiggling his toes underneath the tuft of fabric pooled around his hips, his legs. there's nothing wrong, really, not in as much pain as he thought he would be come morning. any lingering soreness won't be ignored, but he has bigger fish to fry, so to say. such as getting genos's attention, even if it would put a damper on his work. ]

[ it isn't annoying. if anything, it relieves genos to hear his voice, knowing he isn't any worse for wear.

too relieving. it's for the best sonic doesn't see the spatula slip from his fingers, nearly fall into the skillet he's working with. he shakes it off, continues stirring.

the initial whining goes ignored. it takes being called a toaster to get genos's attention, halfway there to a speech about having nothing to do with toasting bread, when he stops, leaning through the entryway. ]

Sorry. It isn't ready. [ he cuts straight to the heart of it, unable to work up to anything resembling ire today. especially not after taking note of sonic, all tangled hair and still as nude as when he last left him.

but he looks...good. too good. genos leaves before he can pursue that thought any further, and so the sauce doesn't scorch on his watch. ]

[ juts the bottom of his lip out when the kid doesn't come to his aid. fine, he'll cross his arms over his chest, look off at his cat who happily rolls around with one of her favorite toys. the attention she gets prompts a happy romp in sonic's direction, rubbing at her head before picking up a long, colorful stick thrown aside, dangling the feathers in the feline's face.

a shiver runs up his spine after some playtime, a sign that he should get up, dress himself, lest he end up with a cold on top of a wounded side.

after a short hug to his furry companion, he climbs to his feet, carefully avoiding any twisting motions. the last thing he needs is to rip open those stitches, start the entire healing process all over again.

while his apartment isn't exactly big, it isn't small, either, not like saitama's joke of a room. it allows him a pretty decently sized living room, a bathroom with a tub, and the bedroom he barely uses except to store his clothes. surprisingly, there's an abundance of outfits for him to choose from, all taking on a darker shade, his preferred color spectrum. sonic avoids the racks for now, making a beeline to his dresser. he's not feeling up to putting together proper outside attire, seeing no need to when he's just going to lounge around all day.

a pair of loose shorts and a long sleeved shirt (it might or might not have a cat on it) works for now, slipping on a pair of socks that go a little past his knees. genos has already seem him in a pathetic state, so why bother matching when he can wear his favorite go-to bedclothes?

sonic grabs a hairtie in passing, opting for a looser hairstyle today, inky hair tied low at the end. when he makes it back, his destination is the kitchen, presenting himself proudly with his hands on his hips. ]

Whatcha making? [ tilts his head to the side, trying to get a look at genos's handiwork. he won't invade his space, not yet, not when his stomach is still needy. ]

[ he's here; luckily, genos has managed to compose himself, becoming engrossed in the precision of the task at hand.

anyone could do this, rolling a sheet of beaten eggs around in the pan to make a basic omelet, but he'll accept nothing less than perfection. round edges, consistent texture from top to bottom... ]

These are rice omelets. [ everyone knows what it is, so he won't bother with a description. nonetheless, it wouldn't be genos if he didn't run his mouth at least a little on an otherwise inane topic. ] I wanted to put mushrooms in the rice, but since you have none, I had to make some adjustments. The extra onion in it will hopefully balance out any differences. Peas give it a nice color at the end, and I considered carrots, but it might be too much given— [ oh. sonic isn't listening anymore.

sighing, genos spoons filling into the first omelet. he's already dressed for the sake of decorum, but since it's the same tattered, green sweatshirt and baggy pants only a flesh-and-blood teenager could feasibly pull off, it brings nothing exciting to the table. ]

...where are your plates? [ it's the one thing he couldn't find. ]

[ yeah, he definitely started to tune him out after the bit about the mushrooms, gaze directed elsewhere, to something more interesting (like the shining, clean counters—when did that happen?). ]

Up here, weirdo. [ now he'll stand next to genos, bumping shoulders with him. the cabinets above the stove are a little higher than he'd like, especially when he's recovering, but being a master at contorting his body in any way he wants, he's able to grab them without disturbing delicate areas.

places the plates down, right next to the stove. now he can take a gander at the food, smile widening considerably. ]

Hope it tastes as good as it looks. [ a nonchalant compliment, maybe. he's not good at being direct with them, obviously. ]

I had to taste it several times. Normally I have to use more ketchup— [ halts in mid-sentence before he can elaborate on why. bringing up saitama here and now is one of the last things genos wants to do, doesn't want to ruffle sonic's feathers so early on. ] —but mixing it with tomato paste is better, so...

[ this time he cuts himself off before getting too carried away. sonic's probably bored again, so he shuts his mouth, shaping his dish into something oblong with the edges of the pan as a guide. ]

...I hope it suffices. [ he's nervous. why is he so nervous? it couldn't be because of how close sonic is, or because of it being the first time he's ever produced something substantial for the guy. takeout and fried noodles are one thing, but he's never bothered to produce something more or less from scratch before.

cyborg home cooking. the list of firsts for them just continues to climb higher and higher. ]

Is that so. [ the logistics don't interest him all that much, but he listens this time simply for the sake of listening, missing the beat where genos pauses entirely. ends up shrugging a shoulder, taking a step back to give the chef more room to work. ] I don't know how to cook, anyway, so I have no idea what you're talking about.

[ this is one of the times where he can admit his shortcomings. they're far and few that he'll speak of, always taking pride in the things he's most capable doing. ]

[ but if you he doesn't know how to cook...and there's food in the fridge... ]

... [ hold on a moment. genos has crashed. ] There is food everywhere, and you don't know how to cook.

[ does not compute. ]

Nope.

[ stares at genos. when he doesn't seem like he's going to respond: ] ... oh great, not again.

[ waves a hand in his face, much like he does when it seems like the robot has shut down. this has happened a few times before, yet sonic can't get used to it. the gesturing and snapping his fingers doesn't ever work... ah, he has an idea.

closing the distance once more, sonic stands close, lifts up on his toes just a fraction so his mouth hovers near the shell of his ear. ]

Maybe this time you can give me a lesson. [ to emphasize his point, he nips playfully at the dangling edge of a lobe. ]

—! [ and now he's back. the handle of the utensil he's holding onto, however, isn't going to be looking so good after this. the material splinters, breaking in his vicelike grip. good thing sonic doesn't use them, anyway. ]

I should. Or you'll starve to death. [ among other things.

with narrowed eyes and the hum of his cooling springing to life, he reaches around sonic, still needing to work on omelet number two. ]

[ that was too easy.

snickering like a jackal, sonic slips away easily, gracefully, and wanders to his fridge. even if he does have food at his disposal, he usually ignores it, forgets it entirely until it expires. the number of beverages, however, always stays the same, an abundance for him to choose from.

orange juice is a good choice, he thinks, drinking straight from the carton. kicks the door shut and takes the box with him, hopping up onto the empty counter next to genos. ]

Is it a hobby? [ returns to the original subject at hand, always up to ask questions, pry into his guest's mind. ] Or does the egghead not now how to cook either?

[ crisis averted. next time he won't be getting off so easy...

it takes a second for genos to shake that off, return to normal. he's watching sonic go, gaze glued to the back of him. this is starting to become a problem, and they've spoken for, what, five minutes today?

easy there. breathe, pour our the next omelet, remember to swirl it all the way around. wait a minute for the eggs to solidify on the bottom, and then— ] Something of a hobby. [ still not in the mood to speak of his sensei, a first. ] It's easier to turn fresh ingredients into fuel and get all the necessary nutrients out of it.

[ hm. is he revealing too many details by saying this? it's not like the average citizen knows a lot about the mundane facets of inorganic living. ] Besides, the alternatives are disgusting. [ dr. kuseno gave him some...samples, once. never again. ]

[ hums in acknowledgement, just to show that he's giving him his full attention while he takes a big gulp of juice. wipes the excess moisture from his mouth before speaking again. ]

Nothing is worse than shitty food. [ actually, a lot of things are, but whatever. nods in confirmation, more to himself than genos. ] I get it.

[ hikes a leg up, one arm wrapping around it. his chin settles comfortably atop his knee, looking at the other sidelong. so he really was a cyborg through and thought. sonic never had any doubts, not when he's felt it all first-hand, but it's still... peculiar, he guesses, to prefer his company over anyone else's. or maybe it's because he's only a small percentage human, idly allowing that thought to consume him as he waits for genos to finish. ]

Edited 2016-01-04 05:48 (UTC)

[ he won't have to wait long. the fresher omelet goes to sonic, complete with a crisscrossing of ketchup he must have missed. nothing cute or fancy here.

and...then what? do they eat in here? retire to the other room? genos hasn't dealt with this much open space in quite a while, more used to sensei's cramped quarters, or recovering at the doctor's laboratory when he had no other permanent home, always roaming from city to city in search of that machine.

it probably doesn't matter. he'll have to tidy up before sparing a thought to his food, anyway, more interested in both keeping this area clean and seeing what sonic plans to do. he'd better not spit it out or feed it to the cat (who ate enough of the uncooked chicken already). ]

[ there'll be none of that rude nonsense. sonic may be a lot of things, but an asshole to someone who just made him food—made him come some hours ago, too—isn't one of them.

accepting the plate with a incline of his head, he stops short of sliding off, caught between leaving genos outright and making himself comfortable where he's seated. for some reason he doesn't like the former, leaving him with just one other option.

the counter isn't the most ideal place to be, but the guy is cleaning up, for heaven's sake. sonic can wait for him, but he can't wait to eat, reaching for a pair of chopsticks.

after his first bite: ] ... wow. [ doesn't even realize he said it, resuming his consumption at a quicker, less cautious pace. ]