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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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[ he should hit him. with this towel. right there. he's so close... ]

Dinner. To dinner. [ two fingers are held up. this is the second...proposition they've had. joke or not, genos is resolved to make good on it. ]

[ what in the world is he going on about—

ah, it's his turn to not recognize the return of something they've spoken about in the past, lips twisting in an unfamiliar expression. ] You were serious about that? [ about making good on the joke, that is. sonic expected nothing. ]

[ eh... ] You weren't?

[ well, color him foolish. he was already racking his brain for ideas, maybe in one of the other cities they've only been to once or twice. they're less likely to be spotted that way if neither of them are in their regular stomping grounds. ]

[ stares at him for a good, long moment. a childish streak strikes him out of nowhere, but it might be in retaliation to the twitch in his slender fingers, a dusting of pink on the usual patches of skin. ]

I pass. [ why is he so flustered? that's supposed to be a funny mockery, another memory to laugh at. turns away instead, unable to look at genos for now. ]

[ the air in here is unreadable. playing it cool sounds like the most sensible option, whistling a sigh through his nostrils as he turns to duck out of the room. ]

I'll ask again. [ sometime, at some point. not now. now is for lightly touching sonic's elbow in passing before meandering off. genos isn't going far, but he's staying here for more than a few minutes, he has a handful of things to see to so he can settle in with a sound mind. ]

[ just. does some staring into the mirror, not focusing on anything in particular. even when genos gently signals his leave, sonic won't budge, only twitching after the fact, when the cyborg is nowhere in his line of vision.

what the hell? what is this? it doesn't necessarily claw at him like it did before, a nasty itch he would love to dig out, but it's still undeniably there. only this time it's more jarring than infuriating, doesn't cause him to jolt into action and make split-second decisions without a clear head.

lifts his hands to grasp at the remaining long, somewhat uneven strands cupping his face, tugging at it in a bout of... confusion? panic? there's definitely some kind of internal struggle there, wide-eyed and paler than usual as his reflection glares the same image back to him, as if he needs a reminder that there's still a thing or two that's off with him. okay, that's no big deal. sonic's just tired and doesn't have his head screwed on right. that's all there is to it.

slapping at his cheeks is the best thing to snap him out of it, striking a few times before he's back again. refusing to address this problem (again, as always) is so much simpler, as is going through the several steps to his nightly ritual. he's vain enough to have the best self-care products out there, making sure he's done head to toe, no part of his body left unmoisturized, a pampering that keeps himself looking as good as he does.

twenty or so minutes go by until he's satisfied; gandering at his figure with a few languid sweeps, sonic flicks off the lights, heading off to his bedroom for a proper change of clothes. while he'd love to tease his housemate with something skimpy, the outfits just aren't as comfortable as he might make them out to be, persuading him to choose a too large, slightly too thin shirt, topping it off with undergarments that rise up a little higher than necessary in his back half. they won't be all that visible, anyway, the material draping off a shoulder goes low enough to cover that sight.

now that he's got that out of the way... what the hell does he even do with his hair? it isn't so much because he feels the need to doll up or anything, but it's a fierce habit to pull it up and out of the way, especially if he's eating. there have been one too many times when his bangs would dip into his meal, leaving it a soggy, sad mess that would interrupt an otherwise relaxing moment. sonic's stomach feels a need to chime in at the thought of consuming something warm, sighing loudly before settling on folding back the bundle hanging between his eyes and pinning it up. there, that's good enough.

all of this takes way longer than it should, but the toaster hasn't come rushing in to find him, make sure he's okay, leaving sonic to go seek him out instead. ]

[ time isn't a huge concern for genos. unlike sonic, his train of thought never really gets to leave the station. after his departure, he is strictly a young man on a mission...one which requires miles and miles of electrical tape.

finding it was the hard part. normal bandages are all well and good for sticking to human skin, keeping infection out and medicine in. genos's needs, on the other hand, while more basic, also require something sturdier that can actually bond to steel and electronic components without sliding off at so much as a stray breeze or some unintended minor friction. at sixteen he learned this the hard way, when dr. kuseno wouldn't be available till the morning and there was nothing for it but to muddle through it with his own logic and a rusted toolbox.

some things never change. past the hunt, wrapping tape around his torn arm, his neck, both legs is not a huge hassle. the side of his face required some trimming, luckily relying on a pair of scissors instead of the old knife he thought he'd have to filch, not knowing if was accidentally stumbling upon some ancient shinobi heirloom that'd curse his ancestors from touching it or not. once complete, that too is easy to tape up, homemade cyborg gauze which, hopefully, will stop him from having to resort to blocking out the pain, the delayed connections internally screaming at him how something isn't right, abort, abort, repair now or face the consequences. he ignores this every time, overrides it manually when things get dicey and the lower half of his body has been separated from the rest of him. in comparison, this is nothing, scratches, mere metal wounds, yet he's tired of being pelted with the same warnings every ten, fifteen minutes or so.

and this is where sonic joins him, beloved mister speedy mcfaster flailing as a piece of leftover tape is stuck squarely on her front paw, unable for the life of her to free herself from it. genos would lend a hand if it weren't occupied, trimming off the last edges of his work neatly. his face is blank when his eyes meet sonic's across the room.

it's not what it looks like. the unclothed metallic figure standing here is nothing and nobody to worry about. ]

[ this isn't what he'd been expecting.

crossing his arms over his chest, sonic regards the scene with a critical gaze, landing mostly on genos himself. when his cat feels the need to bolt in front of him, he easily lifts a leg to stop speedy in her tracks without even so much as turning his attention on her, the poor thing slamming into his foot before sprawling out. ]

Having fun? [ now that's directed to his spazzy feline, squatting down to scoop her up into his arms and remove the tape, using a thumb to circle and massage the tender spot. ]

[ genos misses the show; outside of the obvious restraints on his limbs, he needs the patch on his cheek to be precise down to the last millimeter, finally content once his visuals match the calculations.

needless to say, he's dumbfounded at the new scene on display. you can rub cats...?

he shakes his head, cleaning up the mess he's left behind. this is a field best left to an animal expert, something he very much isn't. zoos used to be the closest he could ever get as a child. ]

[ any other time and sonic might be smooching at the warm, purring animal. now that there's an audience, he can only scratch at the back of her ear, letting her dart off soon after. ]

Where's my food? [ speaks even as he stands and goes towards the kitchen. sonic's well aware of why there's no water heating up for those five to ten cups of ramen both of them will probably devour in no time flat, but he wouldn't be him if he wasn't so, well. like this. ]

I didn't make any.

[ two can play at this game, giving a thoughtless reply. of greater importance is flexing all five fingers on his right hand, clenching them into a fist, double-checking his motor skills haven't been stunted by the rearrangement.

the whirring noise underneath his knuckles is a mild concern. nothing that can't wait until the morning, though, so long as he doesn't need to defend himself from anyone after nightfall. ]

[ snorts loudly in defiance, calling out: ] Some toy you're turning out to be.

[ hospitality clearly isn't a theme in his home. nonetheless, sonic will go ahead and drag out a box from the back of the pantry. it's... literally a three or so dozen stash of cup ramen.

for someone that's absolutely loaded, he sure doesn't live like it, past the larger than necessary size of his apartment, the tens of hundreds of outfits that litter both the racks in his bedroom as well as the floor. ]

[ evidently he's missed the memo on what purposes a toy serves, because playing as a personal chef isn't one of them.

knowing there's no harm meant means it's easy to dismiss. more importantly, his cupboards sure are bare...sensei isn't nearly this bad, and he doesn't have money to burn. maybe there are edibles stashed away in the icebox... ]

We need more than that. [ genos could pack away that many noodles by himself and still ask for seconds. ]

[ regardless of their endless abyss that they call stomachs: ] This is all I have.

[ or maybe not, sonic's not sure. waves a hand around. ] Look around, I might have something else.

I can fix this. [ he hopes; no kitchen can be this empty. he has faith in sonic that he's crashed here at least a time or two in his extended absence, maybe having left the remnants of some late-night shopping lying around since he couldn't be bothered to commit to actually preparing anything taking longer than three minutes. honestly, even for the littlest things he doesn't have a lick of patience...

it's mainly vegetation and another carton of eggs genos reveals in his search. he won't be able to recreate another omelet this time around, but they can always be used to enhance what would otherwise be an incredibly boring and bland pot of noodles. the probably-still-safe container of miso paste he uncovers is a plus, and though they're best left outside of the soup, the probably-safer pickled vegetables will additionally work in a pinch.

the spread won't be glamorous. he's sure sonic would have just cooked the packets and called it an evening, however. how has he sustained himself all these years on his own?

genos partially forgets he's there as he mills about, cracking half the eggs to beat, the rest to boil, whilst setting up other arrangements for their meal. the noodles will need to be softened separately, green leaves and assorted frozen items hanging around on the side until the time is right to add them in. some of these he's conveniently picked up from sensei's personal tastes, and others have stemmed from a long series of seeing what works best for him (the snow peas were a lucky find, those weren't here last time). the miso he measures may be unnecessary, but it'll allow him to cut down on the seasoning he'd otherwise have to be dumping in. neither of them need that much salt.

this is doable. someday, perhaps, he can prepare some real food in here, instead of struggling to save something otherwise insubstantial. ]

[ this was all part of sonic's plan. well, not entirely so. in the back of his mind he recalls the very scant number of eggs he has in his possession, the rows upon rows of ramen, and his assortment of drinks. leave it to genos to actually go searching high and low, prepare a meal out of absolutely nothing. how very obedient of him.

sonic will remain at the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the cyborg bustle about. calling this a recreation of their last time together in the kitchen isn't accurate, but it brings some kind of warmth to him that he's not used to. wondering if the change in temperature's due to other factors, sonic idly raises a hand to lazily fan at his face, turning his attention downward and at his purring feline friend, who seems to act as if she hadn't been throwing a fit just a few minutes ago. a quick glance to her water and food bowl propels him from his perch against the counter, rummaging about until her—incredibly expensive, because she deserves the best—cans of food emerge from shelves that are in dire need of a dusting.

moving around his robot chef turns out to be more like a dance when genos is going back and forth, rolling his eyes when he murmurs absent excuse mes, as if he's only picking up on his presence to prevent any damage and not because it's sonic himself who's there.

as long as they end up eating sometime this century then the ninja couldn't care less. ]

[ waiting for the water to heat is the biggest obstacle standing in the way. without it, there'd be next to no time in readying each component.

genos knows there's eyes on him, choosing to ignore the prickling on the back of his neck so he can finish everything in a timely manner. he isn't used to an audience; at home, saitama would pop his head in every once in a while to see what his disciple's whipping up for them, but never something so critical that makes his core kick into overdrive in alarm.

that's got to be his imagination. sonic is merely hungry, impatient, would likely prefer everything set in front of him now now now instead of having to watch and wait. to an extent genos thinks he can respect that, in this regard; the sooner he can eat, the sooner he can rest his eyes, put this day behind him and move on to the next with no regrets. it's fair to say. plus he won't have to deal with genos at his constant beck and call.

unless it's something he wants. does he?

the thought is discarded before it can unnerve genos further. there are bigger concerns, like preparing the broth now, letting the vegetables simmer alongside their other companions, stirring in ribbons of egg right before it comes up to temperature. too soon and it'll take too long to cook, whereas too late means it'll clump up too quickly, ruin the texture he's shooting for. ]

[ wanting besides the obvious is nowhere to be seen. sonic's tired, hungry, and definitely in need of a good ten to twelve hours where he's no longer conscious to the world. most of these sentiments are shared, he thinks, now that he's gotten the scoop on how that robotic body operates. to see him shut down is still a little funny, but knowing that he's more or less on standby instead of fully powering off unnerves him to some extent, sometimes going so far as to wave a hand in front of his face, chuck a pillow at his lifeless form, just to double-check what function he's switched over to.

tilting his head to the far right, sonic regards him in a different way, somehow, though he can't decide as to why or what the change is. usually there'd be some major pestering, shoot his mouth off for the sake of hearing his own voice.

none of these things come to be, not now. a yawn is all that will follow, wandering back to the fridge to pour them both a glass of water. one of the cups will remain next to genos as he goes about his business, the other nestled safely in one of sonic's hands. in a mirror image of how he was addressed in the bathroom, he gently brushes his palm against a rounded plate that mimics the form of an elbow, a silent means of showing himself out as he passes him by.

the guy doesn't really need it, what with his senses more alert than a human's, but it seemed right to extend the same courtesy regardless of his enhanced functions. besides, he's not going very far, settling on the couch to wait it out, watch those six second videos on his phone like he usually does when he has nothing better to do. ]

[ it won't be much longer. gingerly putting on the final touches, genos supposes it's a giant pot of rubbish he can feel distantly proud of eating. having to share it is a shame, as with all the new additions, it almost makes enough for an adequate single serving. sacrifice is a commonly heroic trait, anyway—sonic's going to need this a lot more than he does. the cyborg can always run on auxiliary fuel if the situation calls for it.

now...how can he divide this into two portions? the pot he's used is too unwieldy to simply share from. more pilfering through the kitchen has to be done, coming up with a giant bowl probably best suited for mixing ingredients in. it'll have to make due for a heap of ramen, piling it as high as he possibly can. the rest he can consume from the pot, less susceptible to the heat than human hands would be.

everything is transported over to sonic, chopsticks and all. he's expectant of his opinion, toeing away the cat who looks momentarily interested in the arrival of something warm, only to turn up her nose when there isn't a morsel of meat to be found here. sorry, speedy. ]

[ the smell reaches him way before it's presented, his phone long forgotten in favor of large, warm meal. ]

Finally. [ like he actually had to wait all that long to begin with. eagerly accepting the bowl and chopsticks, sonic takes no time to admire it, nor does he question the larger than life container his ramen is floating around in.

sorry, genos, there won't be an outright appreciation for it just yet, not until he's slurped a pile up into his mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. ]

[ good enough. relieved he isn't spitting it out of his mouth, genos takes a seat to attack his share.

this is a comfortable routine, eating side by side, although they tend to do this out in the city much more than they do around here. come to think of it, genos has stopped by here for only...the third time now? or is it the fourth? hardly with the same frequency they've hit up restaurant after restaurant at all hours of the day.

oh, right. since some time has passed, in between his slurping of noodes: ] ...where am I taking you? [ it's worth another try. ]

[ if he were anyone else, sonic would have sputtered at that, choke outright on the noodles. the question still comes as a mild surprise, eyebrows tented together when he regards him. ]

... [ there's a noodle hanging out of his mouth as he stares, suctioning it up past his lips before speaking. ] You just asked me that.

[ couldn't he have waited another day, maybe even a week or two? ]

[ it sounds like a subtle nowhere to genos, who hums, drinks soup from the pot nonchalantly. ]

I will keep asking until you decide. [ that'll probably be the last one for today, though. he can try again tomorrow... ]

[ sighs loudly and looks away, more dramatic than he actually feels. ]

I pass. [ a faint upward twitch of his lips tells another tale, ones that won't be told for some time, definitely not now. they'll be put to better use, going a bit slower this time when he's dipping his chopstick in for more. ] ... it's pretty good.

[ pretty good. he sags in relief. knowing sonic, he must have been hungry enough to devour just about anything set in front of him, but to hear a mild compliment from his lips on his hard work eases genos's mind. ]

Putting eggs in with the broth helps to make it fuller. I thought boiling them too was a little much, but... [ frowns in thought. it was done primarily for his sake. ]