destinytown | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ 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! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ 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. ]

It's good! [ an abrupt, somewhat louder response than planned, mostly meant to keep the kid from rambling about the hows and whys of his concoction. just shovels a bit more to emphasize his point, undecided if it was also a way to verbally reconsider the pretty part of his kind of sort of compliment.

if the bowl wasn't so attached to his grasp, sonic would have half a mind to outright pat his head, like he's done once before. that'll just seem strange and unnecessary, glad that both of his hands are much too occupied, ceasing what might have been a potential mistake on his behalf. ]

[ he's spooking the cat, who runs out of the room.

genos starts laughing, albeit quiet and contained. ] I see... [ if it's going to earn reactions like these, he should do the cooking a lot more often, pending this opportunity will arise again. ]

[ for that he'll lift a bare leg, nudge at a sturdy steel calf in retaliation.

the remainder of the time will be spent eating in silence, a long stretch that's not as awkward or uncomfortable as it could be. sonic's glad to have a distraction, besides, otherwise he might slip back into dangerous waters, loathe to leave an otherwise calm moment. it stays undisturbed, even as he's downing the remaining bits and pieces floating about with the last of the soup.

a more content sigh follows, sliding the empty bowl across the abandoned tabletop before flopping back, legs spread straight out. ]

Okay. [ gropes around for a throw pillow, hugging it to his chest. after shutting his eyes and tipping his head back: ] Goodnight. [ ... as if he's about to just drop off the face of the earth right here and now. ]

... [ there's no way he's sleeping there, is he? sure, genos has seen it before, left him with a blanket draped over his form the last time it happened before slipping out into the night.

part of him considers doing it now: the sun is about to set, and if he hurries, he might be able to make it back to sensei in time for the second part of dinner. that way they can catch up on what took place with the blizzard girl's posse, figure out why no one from the hero association can't simply leave well enough alone and let everyone do their jobs. if it weren't for their idiotic regulations and structures, sensei would already be on the top, as he should be.

then again...he can't leave sonic. they've already shared food, his shower, and each other, so why stop there when they may as well occupy the same bed? not to mention genos is reluctant to rise after plopping himself down, let alone hurtle across the city with such depleted energy. moving several feet over several miles sounds much more favorable to him. ]

... [ he stands, skipping the cleanup. it won't hurt anything if a few dishes are strung here and there. he's seen worse. sonic will come with him, like it or not, replacing his throw pillow with the front of him as he hoists him up, dangles the man over his shoulder like a sack of rice. where is his room from here? ]

—!! HEY! [ if his voice was loud last time, then this one is practically a shriek, more alarmed than indignant. just when he was getting comfortable, too... ] What are you doing? Put me down!

[ goes so far as to kick his feet, an unsuccessful endeavor. does he look like cargo that can be tossed around willy-nilly? this is a hilarious contrast to them duking it out before, though the blows aren't all that heavy, lacking the venom sonic had thrown at genos. ]

You are a child. [ a calm declaration, paying no attention to the man's struggle. he's headed down the hallway to a dark room he's peeked inside of just once, questioning the frilly unmentionables he may or may not have seen in there.

no, what's more important is to shut the door slightly ajar, gently depositing sonic onto unmade sheets. ] We're going to bed.

[ isn't that why he said goodnight? genos is doing him a favor, he should cut him some slack. ]

[ i'm older than you— ah, he shouldn't say that. it'll just prove genos right, give him the satisfaction for having a one-up on sonic for once. it's the last thing he wants.

just... lays there instead, arms folded across his front before splaying his bottom half out wide, childishly taking up most of the width of the bed. sonic's glare has no bite to it, though the jut of his bottom lip solidifies how miffed he is. ]

[ as if he isn't dragging a ten-year old away from their toys when it's well past bedtime. ]

Aren't you tired? [ of course sonic is, genos can tell. and that's without having to resort to scanning him—the telltale signs are there, whether he wants to admit they are or not. ]

[ loosens up at a snail's pace, heavy arms unlocking to plop down atop the mattress. ] Yeah...

[ sonic's eyes droop, stubbornly keeping the bed to himself. defiance isn't his most attractive feature. ] But I'm not a sack of potatoes. [ sniffs at the teen, leisurely scooting off to one side. genos could have gotten in anyway, the bed is much too big for just one person. ]

Certainly not. [ and as much as genos may like to tell him exactly who and what he thinks he is, he'll refrain. sliding into the bed right up next to sonic should leave a similar impression on him nevertheless.

he doesn't need to do this. there's room to spare, and it wouldn't be so unreasonable to relegate himself to one side of the bed for the evening, going no further than to bump elbows and knees if one of them happens to roll in the wrong direction haphazardly.

but the distance doesn't sit well with genos, who merely curls up on his side and blinks at sonic idly, going no further than that. their official boundaries remain, as of yet, unknown, and he's never been the one to breach them without hearing the go-ahead. sonic was always more of the one to stretch out on his space heater, poke and prod him for entertainment, ask what a walking robot (cyborg) needs to do with so many vents and slits dotting his body, among other things. ]

[ satisfied with the response, sonic will let it go as quickly as his bowl of ramen disappeared.

... why's he getting so close, though? sure, genos is pretty bulky all around, sinking the side he's occupying way more than sonic is, but there's tons of unused space for him to cover. it baffles an otherwise sharp assassin, head tilted to the side so he can properly regard his so-called toy. the man will have to reconsider that nickname at some point, less an object to be played with and more... something else he's not ready to put a name to yet. ]

What? [ those amber eyes of him aren't helping. up until this point, sonic didn't feel nervous when genos would take the time to stare, quite aware of the appreciative roaming, the up and down sweep he'd silently make. a vain person like sonic basks in the attention whenever it's given, but now they're so close, intimately shoved together in a way that's strikingly different from their tryst in a crumbling building. ]

Should I move...? [ it's possible he's misread the situation. clearly staying in here isn't the problem, but if it's the proximity, he's reluctantly willing to comply.

too bad. at this distance, he can really see how much care sonic's put into his preening, more noticeable now than at any other time. save for the discoloration around his neck and a handful of other battered places that were caught in the shower, his skin's smooth as silk, free of blemishes, practically devoid of any unwanted hair. he's pretty, is what he is—many men are, genos has run into a few—hitting him hard in all the wrong ways his weapons could never hope to reach.

he must be tired, too, to have his head swimming with such things. it'll be all right after some rest, he can sneak out before the sun peeks over the trees, dust himself off and never speak of this weirdness again. ]

[ genos isn't the only one to observe in silence, take note of the tape stuck to his skin, most predominant on the side of his face where sonic's sharp nails tore into. curiosity overwhelms him when two fingers trail up the minimal space between them, featherlight in his touch to a slightly frayed edge, morbidly wondering if that doctor of his will have to fully peel off his synthetic skin and replace it with a new mask.

that hand goes down, where he knows more damage was patched up while he primped, dancing along the slope of his injured neck. exploring any further isn't on his agenda, not now, going limp thereafter. ]

... no. [ finally, his eyes shut, resigned to the fact that he's not that disturbed by their proximity. ] It's fine.

[ really, it is. if it wasn't, then there'd be a high chance sonic would tell him to get lost, push him to the side, turn around to face away. maybe there will be some shifting to accommodate them both in the near future, but that'll be the extent of it. ]

[ asking never hurts. laying limply as he is, an inquisitive touch or two is no cause for alarm. each slash and tear is mainly some cosmetic destruction, easily cured with an hour or two spent in dr. kuseno's lab. that'll have to be added to tomorrow's to-do list, alongside speaking to sensei and whichever association representatives he can get a hold of. oh, and shopping...they should make stew, he's craved pork all week...

it's fine. everything is fine. if sonic says it is, there's no other choice than to believe him, finally relaxing fully under his approval. there's an unconscious pull from the weight of his hand to move an inch closer, genos's nose touching the side of his, almost as if to proceed with something more but never actually advancing past it. hearing him breathe rather than letting their lips stick together will suffice. ]

Then goodnight. [ the glaring glow of his eyes dissipates as they too slide closed. it will time to finish an entire shutdown sequence, preferring to see sonic toying with him no longer before succumbing to the slumber he needs. otherwise he'll be out like a light, free to do with whatever his companion sees fit. not that it'd be much in his current state. ]

[ no more touching will be done here, so far gone in his exhaustion that he is. the only immediate movement he'll make is to grab at the covers and pull them up and around their bodies, going straight back into their previous position thereafter. sonic still remains awake throughout the duration of genos's systematic ritual of succumbing to the only rest he's able to experience, now that the cyborg's not a full-fledged human like his bedmate is.

the entire sequence is a more drawn-out process than he realizes, but it's kind of fitting, given it takes himself a solid thirty to forty minutes to go under on most nights. having someone next to him is still a foreign concept, one that sets off his internal warning alarms despite there being no threat in sight. surprisingly, the one thing that helps him drift is an echo of genos's voice in the back of his mind—please rest, i'll ensure whoever started this does not return to finish the job.

for once he doesn't dream, doesn't go through the ugly motions of nightmares he's learned to brush off seconds after he's shaken awake. no signs of a disturbance rattles him this time, timidly cracking an eye open once he recognizes the telltale signs of awareness. is it because they're awkwardly twined together, somehow having a mind of his own even when he's crashed? possibly, his head is at a weird angle from where he's got his face smooshed up against a hard chest, sleepily rubbing at his sore nose to rid himself of the discomfort.

is it morning? sonic left his phone on the bedside table. loathe to creep out from under a heavy arm draped at his side, he decides to stay put, guessing from the soft, pale blue glow of his curtains that it's somewhere in between night and day.

too early. sonic shuts his eyes again, willing his body to go back to its leadened state.

ten, maybe fifteen minutes pass and he's back again, stubbornly refusing to open his lids and face another bout of disorientation. sonic's still under a heavy haze, anyway, a sleepier state than he'd woken up from before. it gives way to him unabashedly peering up at genos through lids at half mast, scrutinize every detail of his face; the long shape of his nose, much sharper than the slight upturn of his own, the fine jut of a chin, a jawline that will undoubtedly be crafted anew as his mind grows older. a repeat performance is needed, tracing all of these lines softly and with purpose, more than he'd do under the brightness of the sun.

this is bad. despite having no profound thoughts, there's still that something trapped in his chest, trickles across his figure like the water from the shower had done several hours ago. this brings him to a standstill, stopping his palm from going any further than the back of genos's head, digits loosely threaded through a mussed up patch of hair. ]

[ genos dreams in the night, as he often does. everything that's transpired throughout his day is a heavy load to process, and it brings about weird images and events which flit through his mind's eye. most are mundane, some are vivid, and a scant few leave him sweltering and cumbersome, flooded with the aromas of white flowers and freshly spilled blood.

much like falling asleep, transitioning to his waking cycle is an equally gradual routine. there are no alarms blaring in his ears, no oncoming signs of danger disguised as a buzzing housefly or sensei accidentally stepping too close to his head on the floor. for a fleeting instant, he is at peace, body warming back up to temperature under the engine rumble of his core. the bedcovers are soft, and there's no outside light to assault his closed eyelids. everything is optimal.

someone is on top of him. this doesn't factor into the morning ritual, as he and his sensei barely do more than press back-to-side in the dark, when personal space is a luxury they don't have in cramped quarters. it takes a painfully long time to come to the conclusion of why that is, sorting through his memories of the last twelve to eighteen hours. ah. sonic. sonic is here; this is not saitama's futon he's laying in (it's not a futon at all), and this is not saitama's apartment.

this should be weird. this should be alarming. ultimately the chance in scenery is regarded as no more of a concern than his state of undress is, or the company he's keeping, so it's immediately discarded. there's nothing wrong in his eyes with sonic's soft weight plastered to the front of him, nothing wrong with letting a familiar hand crawl up his neck and cradle his head. if anything, it's comforting, prompting him to sound out quietly and turn on a pillowcase far plumper than the cheap, thin material sensei utilizes. he'll add those to the shopping list for next time.

his eyes don't want to open. for all he knows, this is another dream, keeping at bay a colder and grimmer reality just beyond reach. laying like this without a care in the world is more highly appealing. ]

[ ah, it's so much easier to tell when genos comes back, the gradual increased whirring inside of his chest plates doing all the work for him. that doesn't mean it'll be instantaneous, much like when he turns off in such a clinical manner, clicking all the right pieces into place before saying farewell to the outside world.

is he fully back yet? sonic can't tell, hasn't quite mastered the art of knowing in full confidence. maybe it'll make it easier once he's craning up, mimicking the brush of their noses that was initiated right before slumber overcame his friend. much like genos, sonic doesn't move any further than that, breathing in the very distinct scent of the material casing the teen's robotic face. ]

I know you're awake... [ it's a soft whisper at best, a dust of his usual boisterous volume. that's not quite a lie, not with the slight twitch he felt once it was his turn to be invasive, get up close and personal. nothing is particularly wrong, nor does he have any idea what he's trying to accomplish, other than to just feel the longer, firmer body in its entirety, accomplishing what genos could not so many weeks ago (their little tiff doesn't count). recalling the sheer, sincere want coming from the man-made cyborg of needing to encase sonic in his entirety... that's the memory that's fueling all of this, giving an urge that wasn't originally his own life once again.

the reverse is happening at the moment, though he's much too small to fully drape and cover all of genos. really taking note of this for the first time since they've partnered up thrums something pleasant inside his chest, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be devoured in nearly every way possible.

a split second decision leads him to tip his head to the side, brush their lips together briefly. sonic's still much too sleepy to realize what he's doing, what's potentially being initiated, here. regrets can be left for a later hour. ]

[ so what if he knows? what does that have to do with anything?

genos isn't in the mood to talk. his arms shift to accommodate the lean figure he's been holding onto for what he can guess is the last three hours and fourteen minutes. his eyes manage to open up just a sliver, visually confirming what his scan already had. sonic is here, all right, stretched above him luxuriously.

in his opinion, there's a certain rightness in that, settling back into the sheets to watch him lazily. sleep clouds his mind, in no hurry to do much of anything past observe, lean towards shutting himself off for another three hours and forty-six minutes, or until hunger overtakes him and spurs him into action. recollecting a hint of soybean-flavored broth on the back of his tongue reminds him he hadn't consumed nearly enough food to properly propel him, which'll need to be seen to at one point or another.

but sleeping sounds better. his eyelids flutter closed right when a dry pair of lips decide to say hello to his own. it's quick as a flash, yet piques his interest, leaning up to chase them a nanosecond too late; they're already gone. confused, his eyes blink back open, studying the space between sonic's upper lip and his upturned nose. there's no reason for it, still trying to pull himself together after a long stretch of being dead to the world. ]

... [ there are fingers trying to crawl underneath sonic's shirt, flattened to the petal-soft skin and tracing the welt of an ancient scar for so particular reason at all. genos sighs, satisfied with the moment in spite of things, revving more loudly in what could only be described as a long, drawn-out purr. ]