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Saitama stares.
It’s all he can do, and, really, he’d love to do something more productive, but he’s been forcibly kicked out of whatever plane of existence he’d been pondering weekend sales in and is still reeling from the impact.
Genos is beginning to fidget. Saitama realizes, a bit late, that he might actually be making him uncomfortable.
“Uh, come again?”
Repeating his words look like the last thing in the world Genos wants to do (which sure is something, given the fact that this conversation is happening at all), but the kid bravely soldiers on, eyes glued stubbornly to Saitama’s. Saitama tries not to blink first.
“I like you, sensei.”
Briefly, Saitama wonders how the hell they got to this point. Genos hadn’t given any indication recently that he’d been harbouring such thoughts (not that Saitama would be able to recognize them) – maybe he’s just confused himself? But, well, it’s not like Saitama can say anything about it. It’s not like he knows what it’s like to like someone, be it ‘schoolyard-crush’ like or ‘baby-in-the-carriage’ like or what have you, and it’s probably precisely that which is making all this worse.
He hadn’t been leading him on, or anything, had he? He hasn’t been acting unusual, right? He hasn’t become more handsy, being disinclined to that sort of thing, and it’s not like he’s been doling out the compliments, either. Then again, ‘like’ is something that grows independent of that sort of thing, isn’t it? Goddamnit, manga is fucking useless regarding these matters.
It’s only after Genos starts talking again that Saitama realizes he’d probably been expecting a response, and he sincerely hopes that he hadn’t been making a weird face. “If this has made you uncomfortable, sensei, then I apologize. But still, I want – no, I need you to answer me directly. I will understand if you cannot return my feelings, and will not begrudge you for it. I will continue to behave as I normally have, and will endeavour not to act in a way suggestive of anything that sensei finds–”
“Wait, hold on,” Saitama cuts in, weakly, holding up a hand. Genos obediently pauses. “You want an answer now?”
“As soon as possible, please,” he says, sheepishly, but not at all hesitantly, because he’s always been straightforward with his desires. Usually, that would have Saitama’s work all cut out for him, but it’s only making the current situation increasingly awkward and pressuring.
“Just a moment,” Saitama says, and he barely catches Genos’ answering nod as he immediately turns around and tries not to slam his face into his hands. Maybe he could just tell him to wait a bit longer and call it a test of patience? No, no, that’s too insensitive, even for him. Still, that had to be nicer than outright rejecting him.
But what would Genos do if he did? He says he’ll act like normal, but the boy is like a wet paper bag when it comes to hiding his feelings. He’s just way too damn honest. Getting rejected is definitely the sort of thing that’d put someone in a mood, right? There’s no telling how he would actually act if he were rejected.
It’s not like Saitama dislikes him, or anything. Heck, he’s even grown to like Genos being around (for reasons little to do with the money, of course). But he’s never liked him in the sort of way that would drive him to even consider a romantic relationship or otherwise with him. It's really the sort of emotion that's at a level of intensity that he only has the energy to spend on fighting. Looking back on it, it might actually have always been this way - he's never really been genuinely interested in anything besides fighting as a hobby. He's just never been drawn to anything else, much less people. Thinking about it now only produces some sort of abstract fascination at the sheer absurdity of it, as well as all around confusion.
“Genos,” Saitama says, suddenly, not turning around or taking his face out of his hands. As soon as Genos answers an affirmative, a little too sharp and tense, he continues. “You make it sound like you already know I’m going to reject you.”
“Well, you haven’t given any indication otherwise,” he says, bluntly, and the paltry statement just baffles Saitama even more.
“Uh… then why are you telling me?”
And he realizes, belatedly, that the words may be rude and tactless to anyone else, but Genos seems to understand his intent as he replies without pause, “I needed to tell you the truth, sensei. I couldn’t lie to you, nor could I lie to myself. Even if I don’t have a chance, at the very least, I want you to know how I feel.”
Saitama turns to look at him. Genos is sitting up straight, hands on his knees and gaze unwavering. It’s sort of eerie, actually, how little he’s blinking right now (if at all), as though he’s subconsciously compensating for the knowledge that a regular person on the verge of tears would be blinking hard and fast. Oh, drat, he’d forgotten about the impromptu and one-sided staring competition from a few minutes ago. Saitama has to fight to wrangle his attention back to the present reality.
“Genos,” Saitama starts, again, and Genos somehow, impossibly, straightens up further. His mouth opens, closes, no coherent words able to come out, and finally Saitama ends up just spitting out whatever comes to mind to get the whole situation moving faster. “Look, I’m not trying to sound dense, or anything, believe me… but, like, what are you expecting out of this? Like, let’s say I’m not necessarily opposed to your feelings, but I don’t really return them, either. Would you just keep going on like we have been?”
“Ideally, I’d like for us to begin dating, if possible,” he says levelly, and his poker face is not betraying any sort of hope or expectation. It’s making it a lot harder for Saitama to know how he’s supposed to be responding.
He kind of wants to ask what his idea of dating entails, exactly, but he’s got the feeling he’s used up his pathetic questions quota. He probably wants kissing and junk, or holding hands. It doesn’t sound too bad, in all honesty, but these are all things that Saitama would never think to initiate himself. It’s half-hearted and mean to just wait for Genos to ask for these things first – doesn’t that defeat the point of romance? Both parties are supposed to want that lovey-dovey shit, right?
“Look, Genos, I’m gonna be straight with you, and that wasn’t a pun. I don’t like you that way, like, romantically or whatever,” and he makes sure he follows up quickly before Genos makes a dejected puppy face or something, “but, I’m not opposed to dating, y’know. You’re a cool dude; I like having you around.
“But I don’t like like you. And honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever like anyone like that. Knowing that, that I probably won’t ever really understand your feelings, would you still be okay with us dating?”
“Yes,” he says, simply. And Saitama stares.
It’s not the first time that he’s had absolutely no idea what’s going on through the cyborg’s head, and it won’t be the last, either, if he sticks around.
He just doesn’t know what he sees in him. Not in a self-pityingly way, but rather, just what was he expecting to get out of a relationship with him? He’s not expecting him to reciprocate his feelings, he’s not expecting a drastic change in behaviour – in the end, they’re just throwing new words around to describe their interactions. Is that really the sort of thing that makes people happy? Other people tend to elude him, sometimes, and this is just one of those things.
“But if sensei would find it too troublesome,” Genos says, snapping his train of thought in half, “then I am fine accepting a rejection, and–”
“Hey, hey, calm down. Genos, I want to make you happy,” and Saitama is surprised to realize he’s not even lying. It’s just a simple statement, a fact; he hopes Genos isn’t reading emotion that isn’t there into it. “You saying us dating would make you happy?”
“Yes.”
Saitama huffs a short breath through his nose, leans back to look at the ceiling. Was there any point in agreeing to this, or would he just regret it later? It could end up being more trouble than it was worth, doing nice things and being affectionate and remembering anniversaries and going on dates. There was also the matter of how long it’d go for. What if they just kept dating till they died? That was sort of a huge commitment.
Still, like he said, he hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted to make Genos happy, especially when an unhappy Genos probably meant him eventually stopping housework, not cooking, not accompanying him in hero work, no sparring, no generally being there. And Saitama likes what they have now, just being. He likes the simple routine they’ve built up, the lazy afternoons and the mundane activities. He's not going to die if they stop having that, he's not going to mourn for days and never go back to the way things used to be without him. But it's more effort to do that than to just keep what they have now. He'd be lying to say that Genos hasn't brought changes to his life for the better.
He’s probably not giving Genos enough credit, really, for thinking he has to choose one or the other. But he knows he should be putting a bit of effort in, too, and really, in the end, what was a little extra effort if it kept Genos happy?
“Alright, Genos, listen up. I’m only saying this once, and I reserve the right to withdraw this statement at any time, but,” but Genos is already breaking out into a grin and Saitama knows he’s just lost, “I, Saitama, am willing to at least try dating you, starting from right now.”
“Sensei,” Genos says, making to stand up (to do what, Saitama isn’t sure). Saitama holds out a hand. Genos stops.
“The first thing you gotta do is stop calling me sensei, especially since we’re dating. It gives off the wrong vibe, y’know? Just call me Saitama.”
“Then, Saitama,” he says, softly, shyly, looking down at his hands. Saitama tries not to ruffle his hair. Then Genos is suddenly bowing, gold locks brushing the tabletop and voice like a blow horn, “thank you very much!”
“What, hey, no. Stop doing that, geez,” Saitama protests, pushing him back up by the shoulders because seriously, what the hell. “You’re making this weird. This isn’t an omiai or anything. Just, y’know, go and do whatever you were going to do, alright?”
“Right. Then, excuse me,” he says, standing. He disappears into the kitchen without fanfare, but not before Saitama catches him pump his fist with a quiet ‘yes!’ and barely restrained delight.
Well, as long as Genos is happy, he’s not complaining.