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willavenge · 4 years

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traiinedhard.

One minute, Saitama’s munching away at something he and Genos had made in the hot pot with a copy of Sailor Moon right in front of him. He keeps eating at his bowl slowly, reading his manga all the while … buut it’s not long before he finishes. He’s a little disappointed that the bowl is empty, because he’s only half paying attention as he continues to read the panels and reach for another spoonful. He bites into nothingness on the spoon ( save for a little broth ) and frowns – glancing over at it with a little confusion. Ah, well … he’ll get more food in a bit. So, for now .. Saitama shoves the bowl of food away, returning to his focus on reading.

Honestly, he is super absorbed in the manga at the moment, so .. he doesn’t even realize that a piece of lettuce has stuck to the side of his cheek! The table is silent as he reads, though he gets the distinct feeling of being watched … well, moreso than usual, when it comes to Genos. It’s a nagging feeling that the hero tries to ignore, but he can just tell Genos isn’t gonna let up so easy. Just when he lifts his head up and glances over at the other end of the table, he sees Genos is … gone? Weird. He looks around the room, but doesn’t really see Genos – that is, until he looks directly to his side, and the cyborg is literally a few inches away from his face. Saitama’s pretty startled at that – so he visibly jumps back, a little annoyed expresion on his face.

“Geez, dude, don’t you know personal space?”

The cyborg is silent for a moment, golden irises going black, and Saitama notices that he’s gripping his hands into fists. “…You have something on your face, sensei.” He calmly instructs, and Saitama just kinda. Stares. When he makes no move to clean it off, Genos specifies – “It’s on your cheek.” So .. slowly, he places his book face down on the table ( to keep his place, of course ) and wipes at his face. He asks if he got it, and Genos shakes his head no. He tries again. Nope. And again. Nada. One more time, and it’s clear this is driving Genos a little batty, and Saitama’s getting pretty frustrated himself! He actually straight up says something along the lines of ‘ why don’t you just wipe it off then? ’ because he wants to get back to his reading, dammit! .. And in return, Genos utters something about please excusing him.

Before Saitama can respond to that in his irritated state, he finds his chin being gently gripped by the cyborg!Immediately, any and all irritation he’d had melted away in an instant, and all he could say was a tiny “Oh.” Of course, Genos had wiped it away in an instant .. but his hand was lingering on Saitama’s chin, and he found himself kind of staring into the cyborg’s golden eyes. And it seems that Genos was doing the same to Saitama’s plain eyes. Something about the mood turned really serious, though, and .. well, he’s not sure exactly what it was, or why, or what this tension was in the air. But he did what felt right, after a considerably long pause of just having his face held … he leans in, and his eyes flutter shut as he does so. Genos’ seem to do the same too, and it’s clear what his intentions are; he wants to kiss Genos. Just as their lips brush, however, Saitama .. well, he wimps out. He pauses right where he is, nose pressed against Genos’s and the cyborg able to feel the warm breath from his lips since they’re still so close, and then .. he pulls away.

It really it unusual for Saitama to be so flustered, but here he is, having a bad case of crippling self doubt. There’s no way he’s THAT lucky, right? Nobody could like a guy like him romantically, even if he .. really does like Genos. Surely, he could find someone better for him, right? He deserved a lot better than some depressed bald dude in a cape… and this he is painfully aware and certain of. So with the sudden self doubt clouding his mind, he avoids Genos’ kicked puppy confused expression and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He’s going to try to shrug this off like he DIDN’T just almost-kiss his room mate … R.I.P. to Genos

He’s struggling to think of a way to break the silence, but .. nothing’s coming to mind, and the silence is deafening. Eventually, though, the words do come to him … buuut they’re not much. “Uh.. thanks, Genos.” was all he could really bring himself to say.

( Wow, he was shitty with words. )

As the silence sunk in, the blond cyborg was trying to comprehend what had almost just happened. By calculating how close Saitama’s face was to his a moment ago, his increasing heart rate and body temperature, and the faint lingering sensation on Genos’s lips, he assumed it was an attempt to share a kiss. An act that he found himself subconsciously indulging in until it came to an abrupt halt. The mellow glow gradually faded from the boy’s eyes once he finished analyzing the situation, and the other pulled back, leaving him dumbfounded.

A desperate plea to continue was on the tip of his tongue, but insecurities weighed him down, and only a hushed 〝 Se — … 〞 was drawn from his parted lips. There is no denying that Genos idolized the hero in front of him and held him in high regard, even with Saitama’s shortcomings, but how thin is the line between admiration and something that goes beyond it? Although they’ve been living together under the same roof for a few months now, it was the first time he paused to reflect on his feelings towards his master, unaware that him getting caught up in his thoughts added more fuel to the growing tension between them.

The idea of being in a relationship sounded pleasant in theory, even for someone like Genos who had no recollections of it sparking his interest during his early teens (or, perhaps he had and chose to continue to repress his memories as he disliked to dwell on the past.). But was he allowed to consider it now, at his current state? Not only he lacked a human body, but he was also still relatively weak - the cyborg's feats of strength were pale in comparison to those of Saitama, not to mention that his reckless behavior put him times and times again in dangerous positions. He sighed. The emotional attachment might be disadvantageous in battles and prevent him from going all out, and while there was no doubt that Saitama was unexceptionally strong and could defend himself — Genos wished to prove how much he had grown by being able to protect his teacher, the city they live in, and other people.

Yet, his human part insisted that are things which are far more important than strength.

〝 Sensei — 〞 he called out and placed a hand on the floor to support his weight as he leaned in to shrink the gap between them. 〝 I know I'm repeating myself when I say I've never met a man as outstanding as you before, and if I were to list all the reasons as to why I think so highly of you, I'd fail to summarize it within 20 words ... or less. 〞 the blond cyborg's stoic expression softened a tad. 〝 I know I still have a long way to go and that it might be inappropriate on my behalf as your disciple, so I apologize in advance, but — 〞 using his free hand, Genos cupped Saitama's cheek with his jet-black metallic digits a second time. He then tilted his head and closed his eyes, pressing his lips against his. Though he didn't have a nervous system or a heart, he felt nothing but the purest form of bliss by being this close to the person that means the world to him.

#traiinedhard #Long post ///#ajdfhjd I haven't written multi-paras in 3 years I'm. ))#I'm sorry /bows. ))

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rayadraws · 5 years

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BotGeno Valentine Countdown 2019 - Valentine date

Time for another ficlet! It’s date time! 1.6k today.

Relationship: Saitama/Genos Tags: New(ish) relationship, bilingual borg Warnings: None (G)

”I love you.”

”Once more?”

”I love you. I love you… to the moon ah… uh…”

”To the moon and back.”

”Right, right. To the moon and back. Am I doing it right? You can tell what I’m saying?”

”I can, well enough.”

King seemed to think they were done. Not yet. Saitama wanted to get this perfect.

”I love you to the moon and back..! To the moon… and back! Irresistible!”

”...”

”What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

”Is that… your usual expression when you tell Genos that you love him?”

”Uh. Yes? What of it?”

”I suppose… it’s not my place to judge your boyfriend’s tastes.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Genos talked a lot, but not usually about himself. When he did, it was typically about a new upgrade or something. Genos talking about his upbringing, or even his past in general… that was rare. So he hadn’t realized it immediately. Maybe his Engrish (he’d been told, by both Genos and King) shirts should have been a clue, but Genos disapproved of so many of his clothes anyway that he hadn’t paid it much mind.

The second clue was maybe some of that techno talk with the doc, but almost all of what they talked about when they got going flew over his head anyway, so he didn’t really think about it.

Instead, the first time he really realized it was when Genos talked in his sleep. It wasn’t something that happened super often, and even when it did Saitama wouldn’t usually be awake to hear it. But that one time he was, and he was surprised to hear the other muttering stuff in a foreign language. At least he understood enough to realize that Genos was sleep talking in English.

He’d asked him about it at breakfast the next day, and Genos had been mildly surprised Saitama had found it out, but otherwise pretty blasé about it.

”I was raised bilingual,” he’d simply said. Knowing his childhood was kind of a sore point Saitama hadn’t really dug deep into it, but he’d learnt that Genos was fluent in English, though he rarely got the chance to like, have a casual conversation in it with anyone. The closest he got these days was reading foreign cyborg research papers, or talking to people online, or, well, the Engrish shirts. But they didn’t really have people who spoke English (who spoke it well, anyway) among their friends. Which was maybe a little sad? Like, you’d probably miss casually speaking a language you were raised with, right?

Genos had assured him that he was fine, but Saitama had prepared a little… surprise for him, all the same.

Valentine's was coming up and he thought it’d be fun to maybe like, surprise him by saying a phrase in English. A loving phrase, of course.

He’d asked King to help him get it right - the guy was exposed to more English than any of them, thanks to his video games, and they’d practised in secret, while Genos was out.

The days leading up to Valentine’s were busy, with lots of monster reports. Not terribly dangerous ones, but they still needed to be dealt with. There were monsters spawned from jealousy, and unrequited love, and the one who must have had a really weird relationship to chocolate. Genos was called out to deal with several of them and even Saitama got an official call to take care of a sentient candy heart that had somehow made its way to the outskirts of City Z.

It sucked that they were apart so much for several days, but at least it gave Saitama lots of time to practice, with Genos out of (cybernetically improved) hearing range.

”You are amez-... no… you are amiz… you are cool! Yeah, that will have to do…” he muttered to himself. Why did it have to be so difficult to memorize a few lines?! How could Genos make it look so easy to just keep going?

He kicked a pebble as he crossed the street, not bothering to look for cars. None ever made it to their dilapidated neighbourhood. Instead he looked up, to the one lit window in the building, while slowly twirling his gift around in his fingers.

He was home.

”I assure you that I will not go overboard today. On this, you have my word.”

Saitama lifted one eyebrow, eyeing the man across the table. Genos sat in a (somehow) even more rigid seiza than usual, vents faintly glowing and whole body borderline vibrating.

”You’ll be pleased to hear I upheld your ’spend no more than 500 yen on me dude’ rule, Sensei!”

”Really? Huh,” Saitama said, blinking slowly. He hadn’t expected the other to live up to that promise, to be honest.

”Yes,” Genos purred. ”Please leave it to me!”

Genos was a sneaky bastard, but he already knew that. Saitama had realized he most definitely had put more than 500 yen into their first real valentine’s day date the moment he led them down the street to the restaurant. The food there did not cost 500 yen. A glass of water from them, maybe.

He’d narrowed his eyes accusingly when they were handed the menus after being shown to their table, but Genos had once again assured him that he’d followed the rule. It just so happened that the restaurant’s owner was a very big fan of Demon Cyborg. And… maybe he’d used that, a little bit. Maybe he’d signed one of the plushies of himself that fans sent him sometimes and given to her, along with one of his exceptionally rare public smiles, with the glowy eyes. And maybe she’d been more than happy to let him and his significant other eat for free at her restaurant in return for his smile and his signed plushie and a good word about her restaurant.

Sneaky bastard.

He couldn’t deny that the food was tasty, though. Especially for being free. He even got to sample some wine, though that was a taste he had yet to acquire (Genos too, going off his grimace after trying it, but free was free).

After that, they walked down the shopping district of City Z, looking at all the lovey-dovey stuff for sale in the shop windows. There was so much pink and red and of course, all the chocolate.

”You didn’t spend your money on overpriced chocolate, right? I don’t think any of these cost less than 500…”

”No, we will buy chocolate tomorrow, at half-price.”

”Good boy.”

He filed away the way Genos lit up at that comment for later.

”Of course, since the food was free, and the walk too, I still have 500 yen left to spend on Sensei as I see fit. Or rather, as he sees fit… Would you please pick out what you want in this store? Anything Sensei wishes - as long as it costs 500 yen or less.”

He’d stopped and was motioning to the store closest to them. Saitama peered past him to look inside the window and oh, it was a manga store?!

”Good boy,” he repeated himself, Genos smiling ear to ear as they went inside.

Saitama made a bit of a show picking out a manga volume he didn’t yet own, feeling those eyes, and that grin, on him throughout the whole time in the store. Not to mention the way Genos held his hand the whole time, doing these weird swinging motions from time to time. He wondered why he kept doing-

”Hey. Are you like… showing off to people that we’re a couple?!”

Genos lifted their hands again, and this time Saitama noticed the phone, held by a red-faced, giggling teenage girl. She bowed her head in gratitude before running off into the crowd again.

”If they want a picture, the least we can do us to offer a good pose...”

”Geez, aren’t you being exceptionally friendly today!” He snorted and gave Genos a small shove with his free hand, but only held on tighter with the other.

They left the store and started to trudge home again.

It was Saitama’s turn.

”I didn’t like, go through all the trouble you did, and I’m not good at coming up with cool personalized ideas and all but, um, here.”

He’d led Genos home, and made him sit down on the floor by the table (and Genos was definitely vibrating this time), and then he’d gone to fetch the things. He’d kept them in his side of the clothes closet, hopefully they’d still be okay…

”Here. And, here too…”

He handed Genos the red rose, still looking none the worse for wear, thank goodness, and the card. ”It’s dumb, I know, but I thought it was cute…”

Genos took the rose from him like it was made from gold, slowly turning it around in his hand to see it from every angle. And when he was handed the card - featuring a cartoon robot (”Valentine, I like you a Bot”) he studied that up close to - Saitama could tell his eye was doing the sparkly thing that meant he was scanning or analysing or whatever.

”Saitama… this comes from the heart. Thank you…”

”Ah, wait! There’s one more thing. You’re gonna have to excuse all the mistakes, because I’m sure there will be many. Just hang in there, okay?”

”Sensei..?”

Saitama cleared his throat and Genos went back to being quiet, eyes wide and mouth tightly shut.

”You are really cool Genos. Thanks for putting up with me. My days are brighter with you around. I’m bad at emotions, but I love you to the moon and back.

Genos just stared at him for what felt like an eternity, and then it was as if he exploded, talking fast and loud.

”Sensei… no… master! Thank you! You learnt to say all of that in English… just for me? I love you too! I love you so much!”

”Uhh. I didn’t catch most of that, sorry dude. It was cool to hear you say it though. And I got the last part...”

”You did so much. You spent your 500 yen more thoughtfully than I did…”

”Nah…”

”Come here, Sensei. Tonight I will teach you how to scream... in English.”

”R-right…”

He had a feeling he was about to learn a bunch of new words, but not ones he’d be able to use in public.

This was going to be fun.

#BotGenoVdayCountdown #genos #saitama #bilingual borg #ficlet

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batneko · 6 years

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Arataka-kun, part 2

A fic I started a long time ago! Finished thanks to a ko-fi donation from @five-foot-seven

words: 5347 rating: G warning: bullies, age-appropriate angst

[previous]

Mob had never been good at understanding other people's emotions. He knew his uncle was putting on a brave face, because his uncle was a simple person and he'd known him all his life. Saitama didn't know how to handle this situation any more than Mob did, but he at least had the resources to take care of the details while they waited for a solution.

But Reigen-sh- Arataka-kun's expression right now was one Mob couldn't decipher at all. There was a bit of frown in it. A wrinkly chin now and then. Mostly he stared straight ahead and occasionally clenched his jaw.

Mob realized, after a moment, that examining his face probably wasn't helping.

The train ride to Z-City wasn't very long. When they stopped, Arataka-kun's chin had stopped wrinkling but now his forehead was going all squiggly as his eyebrows did different things. Reigen-shishou's expressions on a smaller face were even more exaggerated. It would probably be funny, if Mob wasn't still worried.

“Okay,” Saitama said as they left the train station. “Not too much farther.” He pulled out his phone and pressed a few keys. “We'll eat, play some games, go to bed, and tomorrow... uh...” He tucked the phone away. “We'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.”

“My dad says that sometimes,” Mob said.

Saitama scowled, for some reason.

Arataka got even more animated as they walked. Looking around, asking questions. When they passed through the broken fence that led to the abandoned neighborhood he grinned.

“Wow, ojisan, you actually do know how to have fun.”

“We're not exploring,” Saitama said. “I live here.”

“Here?” Reigen looked around, grin fading. “Those signs said no one lived here. No one's supposed to.”

“Well as long as I keep paying the bills the power company keeps letting me have power, so I'm not going nowhere.”

As the two boys followed Saitama along cracked and grassy sidewalks, Arataka caught Mob's eye.

“Your uncle's a squatter,” he hissed.

“I know,” Mob said, not bothering to lower his voice.

“Are we safe here? I mean, I'm not scared, but if you are...”

“No,” Mob said. “Ojisan would protect us. Monsters don't usually come here anyway. They know they won't come back.”

“Creepy,” Arataka said, cheerfully. “He's one of those brutal heroes, huh?”

“Ojisan usually tries not to let me see it. I don't like violence.”

“Huh.” Arataka was watching Mob now, much the same way Mob had watched him on the train. He seemed to be getting more out of it than Mob had, though. “You're serious.”

“Yes?”

“No, just... that's something I know now, I guess.”

They finished the rest of the walk with Arataka (using the hand that wasn't occupied holding his pants up) twiddling his fingers in the air. It looked similar to one of the gestures Reigen made when he was thinking through a problem, minus a decade or so.

Saitama's apartment was well-lit and comfortably warm when they stepped inside. Mob waited while Genos came and greeted his uncle with a kiss, noting the way Arataka watched it with wide eyes.

“Dang. I mean... dang.”

Mob sat down to remove his shoes.

“What?” Saitama asked, getting defensive. “I told you I had a boyfriend.”

“I know, but I didn't expect him to be so cool.”

Genos, who Mob knew was used to – and annoyed by – people making assumptions about him based on his appearance, said nothing and went into the kitchen.

“What did you expect?” Saitama asked.

“I dunno. Just not a super-hot cyborg, I guess?” Reigen slipped off his too-big shoes easily. “Like an average-looking dude.”

Saitama grunted. “Guess that's not an insult.”

“Or a fellow baldy.”

“Shut up!” Saitama snapped.

“Sensei,” Genos called from the kitchen. “Children.”

“Sorry,” Saitama grumbled. “Don't listen to him though. He's yelled at kids too.”

Softly, Mob heard Genos say, “I raised my voice to one child in defense of you, sensei.”

“Yeah yeah.” Saitama unclipped his cape from his shoulders and started to strip as he walked inside. Mob watched as Arataka quickly turned around, ears turning red.

“Geez. You guys sure are... relaxed around here.”

“Ojisan is always informal,” Mob agreed. “Are you uncomfortable?” He was genuinely curious.

“I dunno! I guess I shouldn't be. We're all dudes here.”

He'd mentioned, earlier, that his father wasn't around. It was entirely possible Arataka had never seen a grown man undressed before.

“Genos-ji told me,” Mob said, “the first time he met ojisan? He accidentally burned all his clothes off.”

Arataka's mouth fell open, and he looked at the kitchen in horror. “Burned?”

“With his weapons. He was fighting a monster at the time.”

“I was fine!” Saitama added.

Mob nodded. “Ojisan is very strong.”

“Wait, so...” Arataka twiddled his fingers. “Wait... so the first time you guys met, he saw you naked? And now you're engaged?”

Saitama pulled a t-shirt over his head, and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Arataka burst out laughing, and Mob smiled to himself. So that had been the right choice.

The rest of the evening passed as Saitama had said. He and Genos cooked while Mob and Arataka played a video game (it took Arataka longer to learn the controls, but once he did he beat Mob every time), they all ate dinner together while Genos recounted every one of Saitama's battles that he'd witnessed (making Saitama blush more and more the longer it went on), and then they flipped channels and watched game shows until Genos declared it was time for bed.

“Young teenagers require more sleep than grown adults,” he said, “so the optimal time to rest is-”

“Yeah yeah,” Saitama said. “You heard the man, bedtime.”

Arataka groaned, and elbowed Mob who had to think about it for several seconds before he added, “Oh no.”

“Dude,” Arataka said. “We gotta work on that.”

“On what?”

He gestured vaguely. “You.”

Mob considered that for a moment. Reigen-shishou – all adults, really – always told him that he was fine the way he was and that he didn't need to change. But Mob was often confused, frustrated, even upset by people. If there was a way he could improve...

“Yes,” he agreed. “We can work on me.”

Arataka blinked at him. “Really?”

“Yes. I think I need it.”

“Hey! Whoa,” Saitama appeared behind them and dropped a t-shirt on each boy's head. “Nobody's working on anybody, come on. Shigeo is fine the way he is.”

“Okay sure,” Arataka said. “But he just said-”

“No, nope, no more from you tonight. Go wash up and get ready for bed.”

Mob thought that was it. They used the new toothbrushes Saitama had remembered to buy, washed their faces, and Mob stepped out of the bathroom while Arataka changed his clothes. He heard Saitama and Genos having a whispered conversation. In the small apartment it was hard to hide anything, but all he caught were words like “tomorrow” and “what if.”

The bathroom door cracked open, and Arataka hissed, “Hey.”

“Yes?” Mob said.

“Shh! Listen, while they're busy. Let's sneak out tomorrow.”

“That won't work,” Mob said. “Genos-ji can track us.”

“Ugh. Okay then... Let's try to convince 'em to let us go out alone. Okay?”

“Okay. Why are we whispering?”

Arataka rolled his eyes. “You might just be hopeless.”

***

Mob slept well enough, considering. His uncle's apartment was very quiet, with no neighbors or traffic to worry about. Being in a room with three other people was slightly unusual, but it had been a stressful day and he was so tired he couldn't remember if he dreamed. Despite all that he was the second person to wake up, after Genos, who gave him a glass of milk and asked him to help decide what to make for breakfast.

When Saitama and Arataka got up, prompted by the smell of cooking, Genos started going through a list of age-appropriate activities he'd looked up. A lot of it sounded fine to Mob, but Arataka just grumbled around his food.

“You don't need to babysit us,” he said once he was fully awake. “I entertain myself all the time. Why don't Kageyama-kun and I go out?”

“Go out where?” Saitama asked, suspiciously.

“Arcade, shopping, I dunno.”

“You don't have any money.”

Arataka smiled at Saitama.

“No.”

“Come on!”

“Not a chance.”

“Why?”

“You might not even remember I was nice to you once you turn back!” Saitama, still in his pajamas, got up and searched through his laundry pile. “I will give money to Shige, for lunch only.”

“But what if-”

“Lunch only!”

It wasn't until they had been dropped off in the inhabited part of town – Arataka wearing Genos' skinny jeans and one of Saitama's older shirts – that he let out a breath and his shoulders slumped in an exaggerated pose of relief.

“I wasn't sure that was going to work.”

“Was that your whole plan? Distracting my uncle by asking for money?”

Arataka shrugged, and started walking. “I woulda taken the money if he gave me some.”

“That was unlikely.”

“Yeah I kinda figured. They look broke.” He glanced down at the jeans he was wearing. They were still slightly loose, and they'd had to roll the cuffs up, but they were nice jeans. “Your uncle looks broke, anyway.”

Mob decided to ignore that. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, I dunno. Somewhere with people. I wanna see what's changed since my time. Do you know if there's a mall or something?”

Mob took out his phone. “I can look.”

“Look where?”

Mob glanced at Reigen, then down at his phone, then back again. Fourteen years ago they had cell phones, certainly, but what could they do? How much would Mob have to explain?

“My phone can use the internet.”

“Whoa, whoa, what? Your phone?” Arataka pressed himself up to Mob's side, so he could watch as he brought up a map. “And then you can just like-” Mob searched for shopping nearby. “Whoa!”

Mob found himself smiling. “Do you want to go to an electronics store?”

“Ahhh, no, I don't know. Kinda, but I wouldn't understand any of it, and it's not like it matters.” He sighed. “I'm gonna be back to being old and boring by this afternoon anyway.”

“Oh...” That was true. Or at least, Mob hoped it was true. The attack had hit Reigen at around five PM, so they still had most of the day to wait. And if he didn't go back...

If he didn't go back...

Mob was not ready to think about that.

“What do you want to do then?”

“I said I'd help you!” Arataka raised a fist into the air. “So we're gonna find somewhere with people, and practice picking up signals. Like uh, like Sherlock Holmes, you know? Spotting the little details.” Arataka nodded to himself. “Yeah. That's good.”

“Okay.” It sounded so simple when he said it. Mob was the one who was going to have to commit it all to memory.

They walked, passing houses and a park and some small businesses, until they got to what Mob probably would have called the “shopping district.” Here the buildings were big and new, and even early in the day there was a crowd.

“You've never been here before?” Arataka asked, and Mob wondered how he could tell.

“No. My uncle shops at smaller places, because they have more sales and specials.”

“And you live back in Seasoning City? Where the office was?”

“Yes. It's close, I walk.”

“So... we're both equally clueless right now.”

“I guess so.”

Arataka scratched the back of his head. “Then... that building over there. The scary one.”

It was covered in black glass windows, and had an escalator on the outside leading to the second floor. As they walked toward it, Mob recognized the signs.

“I think that's a department store, Arataka-kun. The expensive kind.”

“It's cool. We're not shopping, we're just observing.”

Mob didn't think it was cool, but there was no harm in going into a store they couldn't afford. Probably. He trailed after Arataka, wondering mostly whether Genos' belt would survive when its current wearer suddenly grew several sizes.

The only time Mob had been in stores like this was shopping for Christmas presents with his mother. The atmosphere was definitely different now... far fewer people, for one thing. Arataka led the way, looking at things with his hands in his pockets, occasionally flipping over a price tag. After they'd been at it for a couple minutes, he beckoned Mob closer.

“See how the staff keeps looking at us?”

“Um.” Mob glanced at the nearest counter. “They probably want to see if we need help.”

“A reasonable assumption, but no.” Arataka held up a finger, like he was a real teacher giving a lecture. “See they keep looking but not talking to us. They know we're too young to have much money, and we're unsupervised. They think we're gonna shoplift.”

Mob's mouth dropped open, and Arataka tapped his chin before he could speak.

“Or that we're just using the store as entertainment and we're gonna make a mess or something. Which isn't unfair. I mean, it's their job to watch for this kinda thing.”

“But-”

“Watch, here comes somebody.”

Sure enough, a shop employee had appeared nearby. The woman seemed to merely be straightening a display of shoes, but her eyes followed them as Arataka dragged Mob further away.

“She was cleaning.”

“She's following us.”

Done with the ties, the woman moved to a mannequin and straightened its jacket, happening to move closer as she did.

“Okay,” Arataka said, “we're not gonna get much more from here. Let's smooth things over.”

To Mob's surprise he walked right up to the woman, and quickly spun a story about scoping out presents for his father's birthday. The woman gave a few suggestions, Arataka made a show of nodding, then thanked her and left.

The relief of pressure as they exited the store was like coming up for air. So many eyes, so many suspicious stares. Somehow Mob got the feeling Arataka's story hadn't even worked – maybe the way the stares didn't change even after he'd told it.

“What did you think?” Arataka asked, once they were back on the street.

“I think... I don't want to shop there.”

Arataka shrugged. “Fair enough. Does your phone know if there's an arcade around?”

They spent another couple hours hanging around and window shopping. A few times Arataka tried to teach Mob something, but usually Mob didn't get it. Or if he did, it seemed to situational to need to commit to memory. Why would he ever need to know that someone was deliberately losing at a game to make their friend happy?

They got fast food for lunch, where Mob learned that Reigen's messy eating habits had apparently improved over time, and he tried to use subtlety to tell Arataka he'd gotten ketchup on his ear (he failed, and had to be direct about it). Afterward Arataka refilled his drink to the brim, carefully pressing the cap back on before they left.

“Gotta get your money's worth,” he said solemnly.

“Is this more advice?” Mob asked.

“Eh. Sure.”

Once they were back outside, walking to nowhere in particular, Arataka spread his arms and gestured with the cup.

“The world's our oyster, Kageyama-kun.”

“Is it?”

“I mean you gotta dig it out of the dirt and-” He made a twisting motion, sending dribbles down the back of his hand, “-pry it open, and sometimes it's not that great, but it's still an oyster!”

“Okay.”

“Sometimes it's a pearl, though!”

“Do pearls come from oysters?”

“Yes! And freshwater mussels.”

“Oh. I didn't know that.”

“I watch a lot of documentaries,” Arataka admitted. “Actually a lot of... TV... in general.”

“Oh.”

“Not all the time!” he said quickly. “I- I've got stuff to do, obviously. Going out with my friends and all. Hobbies.”

“Yeah.”

“You're not buying this, are you?”

“What?” Mob asked.

Arataka sighed, and took a long pull of his drink. “Never mind. It won't matter tomorrow.”

Mob opened his mouth to say it would matter to him, but before he could he was roughly shoved from behind. A voice growled, “Watch it,” as three large boys pushed past them. One of them put his hand on the side of Arataka's head and nearly knocked him over.

“Hey!” Arataka exclaimed.

“Move faster,” the older boy said, then elbowed his friend and they all laughed.

Arataka looked down at his cup.

He looked back at Mob.

“N-” Mob said, but he was too late. With a surprisingly smooth motion Arataka pulled back his arm and lobbed his nearly-full fountain drink at the leader of the older boys. It impacted on his back, lid popping off and drenching his shirt in sticky liquid.

“Run!” Arataka exclaimed, and Mob obeyed.

They didn't get far. Mob might have built up stamina but he still wasn't very fast, and the crowded streets made it hard to get any kind of lead. Arataka had been in front of him, which meant he was now behind him, which meant he was the first one who got grabbed.

“Little shit!” a boy cried out.

“Watch it!” Mob heard Arataka's familiar cadence. “I know kenpo!”

Should he try to help? Arataka was probably more capable at this kind of thing, and Mob... didn't want to risk a physical fight. But he couldn't just abandon a friend.

Mob's choice was made for him when he was grabbed by his arm, and the three boys yanked Mob and Arataka around the corner. The side street didn't have any pedestrians, and aside from some parking spots and a lot across the street, there wasn't any reason for anyone to walk by. No one passing along the main road would bother with some kids messing around.

Mob found himself shoved toward a wall, and a second later Arataka was thrown against him.

“You- you guys shouldn't do this!” Arataka said, his hands quickly patting Mob's shoulders before he turned around. “You don't know what you're getting into!”

“Right,” the leader snorted. “We were looking for something to kill the afternoon. Now we're gonna kill you.”

It wasn't a serious threat, but Mob didn't like the idea of... whatever they actually intended to do. He watched as Arataka positioned himself in front of Mob and took what looked like a martial arts pose with his hand pressed to his head. The older boys laughed.

“Really squirt? This is how it's gonna go? Fine.” He popped his knuckles.

They couldn't get beaten up, they couldn't. Even aside from the danger if Mob passed out, his mother would never let him visit Saitama alone again if he got hurt. But what could Mob do?

The leader grabbed Arataka's shirt and lifted him off the ground.

This couldn't- They couldn't-

Arataka kicked the guy in the crotch.

“Run!” he exclaimed as soon as he was dropped, for the second time in ten minutes. Mob obeyed, sticking close by his side this time, and they dashed across the street and into the small parking lot. He could hear the boys shouting at them, voices getting closer. There was nowhere to hide, they'd easily see if they ducked behind a car.

A car.

Mob stopped, ignoring Arataka's questioning of his sanity, and turned until he could see most of the cars in the lot. With a very careful release of power, he jolted all the cars at once. One bounce, hard but not enough to do any damage, and suddenly a dozen alarms started blaring around them.

“Come on,” Mob grabbed Arataka's hand and pulled him along, between two cars and down the closest alley. He didn't see if the older boys were following, but if there was any smarts in their trio at all, they would know it was better not to get caught like this.

After a couple minutes of waiting behind a dumpster, Arataka's fingers in his ears, it seemed like they were safe. Mob allowed himself a slow breath and felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease.

Over the din, Arataka shouted, “Can you do something about that?”

“Not really,” Mob replied, as loud as he dared. “I don't know how car alarms work, I just knew if you bump them-”

“Yeah yeah, let's get out of here then.” Arataka led him further down the block, until the remaining alarms were just a distant whine. It was a few minutes before he said, abruptly, “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

Something was wrong. Mob saw it, a second before Arataka slammed his fist into the closest wall.

“Wh- what's-”

Arataka spun around. “Why do you listen to me?”

“What?” It was still empty here, no pedestrians, nothing to draw anyone's interest. Still, Mob glanced around before he said, “Do you mean you now, or the you that's my master?”

“Both! I don't know!” He threw up his hands. “You know I'm just making it all up, don't you?”

“You are?”

“Yes! I got most of that body language stuff from TV!”

Mob thought about it. “That doesn't mean it's not true.”

“I guess, but...” Arataka flapped his hands wildly. “Why? You have way better ideas than I do! Setting off those alarms was genius!”

“You kicked that boy when he picked you up. That was smart.”

“That was dirty!”

“All fighting is dirty,” Mob said. “Especially when one person wants to fight and you don't. Shishou says that the only way a fight could truly be fair is if it was an identical clone of you from another dimension with all the same strengths and abilities and the only way to send you both home was to fight until one of you can't get up any more.”

Arataka covered his face with one hand. “Well that sounds like something I'd say.”

Mob watched him for a moment. Arataka let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the closest building. There was... disappointment there. Shame.

“You're a good person,” Mob said.

“I was acting like I knew everything, when I...”

“You have a good heart.”

Arataka offered him a shaky smile. “I guess, if someone as nice as you likes me. Both mes.”

Mob joined him on the wall, carefully copying the way he placed his hands and bracing his leg against the bricks.

“What are you doing?” Arataka asked.

Mob had been hoping he wouldn't notice. “Mirroring your body language. It makes people feel more at ease.”

“Did future-me teach you that?”

“No.” Mob smiled. “I learned it from TV.”

Arataka laughed. “So what did my future self teach you?”

“Lots of things. He helped me control my powers, but that has a lot to do with how I feel. So he teaches me not to worry too much, not to let things get to me.” Mob tipped his head back and stared up at the strip of sky between buildings. “That I don't have to have it all figured out. That I'm... I'm okay exactly how I am.”

To his surprise, he heard Arataka sigh again. “I'm a dink.”

That was not a word Mob was familiar with, but it sounded like an insult. “No you're not.”

“I am! Trying to change you...”

“I want to change. I want to be better at people.”

“But you don't have to, and nobody should make you feel that way. I've been a dink to you this whole time.”

“You're not a 'dink,'” Mob said firmly. “You're my friend.”

“I can be both!”

“Well... well apologize then.”

Arataka blinked at him. “I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

“Oh.” He smiled, and shook his head. “Thanks.”

The sound of running footsteps made them both freeze, and Arataka automatically reached for Mob's hand.

“Hey what if we just go back to your uncle's place now?”

“Good idea.”

They didn't tell Saitama about most of what they'd done while they were out, and instead all three of them played games for a while. Arataka beat Saitama several times, until he made an excuse and joined Genos in the kitchen. Then Mob just watched Arataka play the story mode and make fun of the awful dialogue. All-in-all, it had been a good day.

At least until Mob looked at the clock and realized what time it was. He looked at Arataka, unchanged, scrawny and teenage.

Saitama cleared his throat. “So uh. Time to take a walk, guys.”

Arataka got dressed in his too-big suit once again. He was quiet as they made their way to the Z-City Hero Association office, and Mob didn't have to guess about why. Mob was quiet for the same reason.

“Can they really fix it?” Arataka asked, once they were staring down the building.

“They said they could,” Saitama said. “It's just hard, so that's why they wanted to see if it would wear off first.'

Arataka hesitated, one foot inching backwards. “What if they can't?”

“I dunno, man. We'll figure something out. There's always a way.”

Mob saw him swallow. “What if-”

“Arataka-kun?” Mob said.

Arataka looked at him, face frozen to hide his feelings.

“I'll miss you. But I miss the other you too.”

His mouth worked silently for a second, then he closed it and nodded. “I guess I better get him back, huh?”

“Yes.”

Saitama patted Arataka's shoulder. “It's scary.”

“I- I guess.”

“But you're not gonna disappear, you know? You're still you. And there's people that count on you. You don't want to let them down, do you?”

“I don't know most of 'em,” Arataka muttered. Louder, he said, “No. Let's go.”

It only took a moment for Saitama to explain the situation to the staff there, someone official-looking to come along, and Arataka to be taken away, and all the while Mob's heart was beating faster and faster. He shivered when Saitama put a hand on his back and led him back to the empty lobby and a padded bench.

He'd been telling the truth. Reigen was important to him, he cared for him like family, but even in one day he'd started to think of the younger Reigen as something else. More like a friend. More like... an equal. Losing that...

Mob shivered again. He wasn't doing well, he was close to losing control, and he didn't know what to do. If he could go away somewhere- But then he would just end up dwelling on the problem.

Something brushed Mob's arm, turning out to be a handkerchief offered by his uncle. “Hey,” Saitama said softly. “Sorry this turned out like this.”

“I'm fine,” Mob lied. He took the handkerchief and squeezed it in his hand.

“It's always hard to lose a friend.”

“I'm not losing him.”

“But he's never gonna be the same person you hung out with today.”

Mob shook his head.

“It's okay to be sad about it.”

“I know.” Mob rubbed the handkerchief across his eyes, though no tears had gathered.

“And besides, it's not like Reigen will never be your friend like that.”

“He's older,” Mob said, “and he's my master, how can-”

“Well sure he's older, but what do you think's gonna happen in ten years? Twenty? When you're thirty and he's forty-something, you don't think you'll be more like equals?”

Mob blinked. Opened his mouth. Blinked again. It was true Reigen would always be older, but once they were both adults...

“You think so?”

“Sure I do!”

Mob slumped back on the bench, just in time to see the door across the lobby open, and a man in most of a brown suit step out.

“Yeesh!” Reigen exclaimed. “Well that was a thing.” He ran a hand over his hair, turning it into a wave when he spotted them. “Yo, Mob.”

“Shishou.” Mob jumped to his feet and headed across the floor, meeting Reigen in the middle.

“Missed me?” he asked, grinning. “Why's your uncle here?”

“I babysat you for the last day,” Saitama said, voice dry.

Reigen winced. “Sorry. Was it bad?”

“Little bit.”

“Uh... thanks, then. I mean, thanks anyway, but for putting up with me too.”

Saitama shrugged. “I'm sure I was just as bad at that age. We can't all be good kids like Shige.”

Reigen smiled down at Mob. “What do you think, Mob? Was I a bad kid?”

“No,” Mob said. He considered the question a little more. “Kind of bossy.”

Reigen laughed. “That sounds right!”

Reigen offered to escort Mob home. He didn't really need to, and Mob was sure he must want to get back to the office and start putting things in order, but maybe he could tell Mob was upset.

“You don't remember anything?” Mob asked as they started walking from the train station.

“Sorry, nothing. I think uh, my brain changing ages probably made it so I couldn't retain the memories? Something like that.”

“Oh...”

“Did I do something wrong? Did I embarrass you?”

“No more than usual,” Mob said, and Reigen winced. “It was... nice. You being my age.”

“Oh. Oh.” Reigen was silent for a few steps. “I'm sorry Mob. I'm glad we got along when we were the same age, but I'm sorry... It must feel like you just made a friend only to lose them.”

Mob nodded. “But, shishou.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we'll be friends when I'm thirty?”

“We're friends now, aren't we?”

“Equal friends.”

Reigen pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Well I wanna say yes.”

“Why can't you?”

“You might not have such a good opinion of me when you compare me now to yourself at my age. I uh... don't always make the best choices.”

“I already know that,” Mob said, calmly.

Reigen scowled at him for a second. “On top of that, I have all of two adult friends, Mob, and one of them's dead. I don't think I'm very good at maintaining relationships.”

“Oh.” Mob squared his shoulders. “Then I'll do it.”

“You'll carry our whole friendship?” Reigen asked, laughter in his voice.

“If you start being a bad friend, I'll tell you.”

“That's fair.” He patted Mob's head. “I'm working on myself lately though. Trying to, anyway... So maybe when you are thirty you won't have to worry about me.”

“That's good,” Mob said.

“Yeah, there's always room for self-improvement. But,” Reigen raised a finger, “this whole experience is proof that you and me are good partners no matter what our ages.”

“You don't even remember it.”

“Not the point!” He hesitated. “Wait, what did I do?”

“You almost got us beaten up.”

“Oh, god.”

“And you kicked a boy in the crotch.”

“Oh no.”

“And you tried to extort money out of my uncle.”

Reigen groaned.

“And called him 'oyaji.'”

He groaned louder and buried his face in his hands. “Mob, promise me something.”

“Okay.”

“If this age-changing thing happens again, just abandon me to the wolves.”

“Okay.”

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mob punch man #mob punch man au #batfics #reigen arataka #de-aging #one punch man #kageyama shigeo #saitama

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liketolaugh-writes · 7 years

Text

The Turing Test

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Genos’ pursuit of the Mad Cyborg leads him to find a place in the Avengers, where communication is a foreign concept and Steve and Tony can’t seem to agree on anything at all.

Doctor Kuseno was a deceptively unassuming man, Tony noted as he stepped closer. He looked like any other aged scientist – nearing retirement, even. He wasn’t fooled, of course; SHIELD had been tracking the man since he began his pursuit of the Mad Cyborg. (Tony could come up with a better epithet in his sleep, but whatever.)

“Mr. Stark,” Dr. Kuseno greeted in accented English, offering his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to this arrangement.”

Tony smirked back, taking it. “A new heavy hitter, a tech marvel, and another chance to piss off Cap all in one? Pleasure’s all mine, doc.”

Kuseno coughed out a laugh, eyes glittering. “You and the Captain have not quite reconciled, I take it?”

Tony held his smile with a minor exertion of will. “You could say that,” he said vaguely, and then nodded at the metal man standing stiffly to the side. “This is Genos?”

“I am Genos,” the man confirmed, dipping forward in a shallow bow even as amber-on-black optics fixed intently on Tony. “Thank you for this opportunity. The Mad Cyborg’s transfer to America was highly unexpected, but now I can at last continue my pursuit.”

“Sure, kid,” Tony dismissed distractedly, not in the mood to hear about a crusade of vengeful justice, instead stepping a bit closer to look. Genos’ eyes tracked him smoothly, shaping subtly into confusion. “Ninety-eight percent metal, huh? You were lucky to survive the procedure.”

“Doctor Kuseno is highly skilled,” Genos said loyally, twisting slightly to keep Tony in view as the man paced around him.

“And you’re aging, even,” Tony continue, reluctantly coming to a stop back in front of Genos. He cast Kuseno a quick glance, catching the pride in the man’s expression, and then back to Genos to continue, “You look twenty. That’s delicate stuff.”

“Doctor Kuseno and I have spent much time experimenting with changes in shape and size,” Genos explained, face subtly closed. “We are quite used to the procedure by now.”

Tony hummed, fascinated. Genos’ face was shifting fluidly, almost indistinguishable from an organic one, and Tony could just hear his internal fans picking up. Emotional cues, even, built in where they couldn’t stay natural. Kuseno had clearly put his all into this.

Finally, Tony pulled back and grinned.

“You and I are gonna get along just fine, kid.” Ignoring Genos’ confusion, he turned to Kuseno. “I got the blueprints; pretty impressive, if I do say so myself. I’ll make good use of ‘em, don’t you worry.” He winked, knowing full well he didn’t intend anything sinister.

Kuseno quirked a place, unperturbed, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “Do call me if there’s trouble, please.” He turned to Genos as Tony waved the words aside. “Take care, please, child. Mr. Stark is not as experienced with cyborg repair as I am.”

“Hey!” Tony protested, affronted. They didn’t call him a genius for nothing, and he’d had over a week to research cyborg biomechanics.

Kuseno ignored him. “And remember to slow down sometimes. You are close, but you do not want to wear yourself out. You still have a life to live even after you reach your goal.”

“I will be careful,” Genos promised, noticeably softer. “Thank you. I will call when I can.”

Kuseno rolled his eyes and huffed, and then, when a moment passed without anything more, he reached forward and pulled Genos into a swift, tight hug. Genos stiffened, and then carefully returned it, at which point Tony turned away pointedly.

A few minutes later, Genos came up beside him, stiff and formal again, his bag slung over one shoulder.

“What should I call you?” he asked Tony awkwardly.

“Tony,” he said firmly, thinking of Peter, who still called him no such thing. Speaking of which- “Now c’mon, kid. You’ve got good timing; there’s someone else joining the Avengers right now.”

Genos made a questioning noise, but Tony ignored it.

Because of the difficulty of bringing a cyborg through airport security, Tony had come to get Genos himself, on a private jet. Thinking vaguely of Peter’s interest in biomechanics and superheroes both, he hadn’t thought twice before inviting him along. It seemed the logical and mentorly thing to do.

Besides, as Tony had said, they’d be joining the Avengers at the same time. Best they make friends now.

Sure enough, Peter perked right up as soon as the two of them boarded, stuffing his phone in his pocket and springing eagerly to his feet.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter protested immediately. Tony fought the paired urges to roll his eyes and smirk, and ended up doing both anyway. “You didn’t say it was Demon Cyborg!” Without waiting for a response – he was getting uppity – he turned to Genos. “It’s so cool to meet you, wow we’re going to be working together, this is amazing, hey how are you powered, is it all biofuel or do you-”

And he was so disgustingly earnest.

“Breathe, Peter,” Tony interrupted, openly chuckling now. Genos was staring at Peter in plain confusion, while the kid, as usual, looked just about ready to shake out of his skin. “Let him sit so we can head back.”

Peter blushed.

“Right,” he agreed reluctantly, sitting down. After a moment, Genos sat beside him, slow and stiff. Brave man.

Ha. Bringing Peter along had totally been the right call.

The jet took off, and Peter turned back to Genos, eyes glittering. Tony grinned to himself and bent over his pad, pretending to lose himself in a copy of Genos’ blueprints. Which, actually…

“I’ve been following you since you joined the HA,” Peter told Genos earnestly, blissfully unaware of how like a stalker he sounded. “You’ve really done some amazing work, I can’t even- and you’re learning from an A-Class, right? Saitama?”

Tony tilted his head slightly, listening; he hadn’t known that. Then again, that was about par for the course when it came to lesser heroes. Peter followed hero-related news much more closely.

Genos still looked stunned, but the mention of Saitama seemed to ground him again. He nodded.

“He has been teaching me for over a year,” he confirmed. “In fact, it was sensei who encouraged me to come here. But I am surprised you call him that.”

Peter ducked his head. “He doesn’t like to be called Caped Baldy, right?”

Tony snorted. Loudly. Both boys turned to look at him, and he waved them off, smirking. Simultaneously, they both apparently elected to ignore him and moved to face each other again.

Caped Baldy. It might be worth tracking new heroes just to hear about names like that.

Genos favored Peter with his first, faint smile.

“No, he does not,” Genos confirmed.

“There seems to be a lot of mystery around him,” Peter continued, giving Genos a crooked smile in return. “SHIELD was running an investigation before they fell, but they didn’t really find anything. But I think he’s stronger than he lets on. Isn’t he?”

How much time had Peter spent looking through the public SHIELD files?

Genos’ smile broadened slightly. “Much,” he said with certainty. “It is what led me to follow him originally, though in reality he has taught me more of wisdom and compassion.”

“I heard he and Mumen Rider are good friends,” Peter continued doggedly, brightening steadily as Genos entertained the conversation. “Is that true?”

“They share many moral values,” Genos explained. “Sometimes they play games together, and Mumen occasionally stays for dinner.”

Peter grinned. “Then you must be friends with him too!”

Genos bobbed his head, and then added, “Mumen makes friends very easily. I believe all of C-Class has at least one fan shirt.”

“I do, too,” Peter confided, and Genos chuckled.

“What is your hero name?” Genos asked, his first active contribution to the conversation. “I try to keep track of current events. Perhaps I know of you.”

“Oh!” Peter sat up a little, offering an embarrassed, but proud smile. “I’m, um. Spider-Man.”

The relative openness was new, but it had been a condition of joining the Avengers. Even if the public remained in the dark, Peter’s teammates would need to know his name and face. It hadn’t been as hard a sell as Tony was expecting; for all his worry and attempted secrecy, Peter was naturally a rather open kid.

Genos seemed to mull that over for a moment, and then nodded seriously.

“A New York vigilante,” he noted. “Super strength?”

“And I can stick to walls,” Peter confirmed, pleased. “Plus a healing factor. Super useful.”

Genos smiled again, slight but honest. “It is good to meet you.”

Excellent. Tony repressed the urge to cackle like a cartoon villain.

“Hey!” He snapped his fingers, and both of them looked at him again. Good minions. “Glad we’re all getting along so nice. Now, for the sake of preparation, here’s how this is going to work. Steve doesn’t know you’re coming yet, I’m just about to pop him a message, so he’ll be pissy but he doesn’t have the authority to stop you.”

Peter scowled a little, which was not an uncommon reaction to mention of Cap these days. It was frankly adorable. Tony smirked back.

“Feel free to piss him off all you like, honestly, I’ll back you up if it comes to that. You’ll be sharing a floor, let FRIDAY know if you need anything – Genos, what do you run on?”

“Primarily biofuel,” Genos answered promptly, “supplemented by some oil and petroleum.”

“FRIDAY’ll take care of that,” Tony went on without so much as missing a beat. “Let me know if you need repairs, I’ve got your blueprints and I don’t bite unless strictly necessary. Peter, you mostly know what’s what already, just don’t hiss too loudly at any of our friends on the other side.” He clapped, once, as Peter huffed petulantly. “Any questions?”

God, he felt like a schoolteacher. But it was pretty nice to see the two of them hanging on to his every word like that.

Genos shook his head, and a moment later, Peter did the same.

“Then be free,” Tony declared, waving his hand. Watching them talk was hilarious; he wasn’t done yet.

Peter snorted quietly and Tony grinned at him, but Genos shrugged and seemed to take him at his word, looking back at Peter.

“How did you gain your abilities?” he asked, clearly interested.

Peter flashed him a rueful smile. “Experimental spider bite,” he admitted. “It’s kind of… weird.”

Genos shrugged. “My teacher claims to have gained his abilities from a fairly ordinary exercise routine. Whatever works.”

Peter grinned and nodded.

“Why did you start?” he asked. Genos’ expression shuttered, falling into a stern frown, and Peter added quickly, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Genos, solemn now, opened his mouth. Tony cringed as he recognized the Monologue Expression. A moment later, though, Genos frowned, closed his mouth, counted under his breath for a few seconds, and then said,

“A cyborg destroyed my city, so I set out to destroy him.”

God, Tony could kiss whoever had trained that into him. Kuseno? Tony might be willing to kiss Kuseno for sparing him a monologue he was sure would have given him nightmares.

Peter’s smile had vanished, though, and after he spent a long moment regarding Genos with an equally solemn expression, he offered in return, “I didn’t save my uncle, so I’ll save everyone else I can.”

The two of them nodded at each other, as if gaining new kinship and understanding, and Tony felt a bitter smirk tug at his mouth as he opened the messaging app. Aw, they were so cute with their baby traumas.

They’d fit in fine.

Just before they landed, Tony shot Peter a cocky grin. In return, Peter tensed uncertainly, and Tony had to hold back a laugh. Peter was learning.

And just as expected, when the door opened, Captain Spangles was waiting, arms crossed and face pinched with disapproval.

“Red-white-n-blue!” Tony greeted the man with a broad and insincere grin, feeling his heart tighten in his chest at the sight of him. “Did you get my message, then?”

“Yeah, I did,” Steve said flatly, gaze unwavering. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Anytime, Capsicle, anytime,” Tony said easily, striding down the ramp with a slight gesture to hold the other two back. “Come out to meet the new recruits? What a good and responsible team leader you are.”

Steve’s mouth tightened. God, Tony loved winding him up; it was so satisfying.

“I wouldn’t want them to feel unwelcome,” Steve replied steadily, giving away nothing else of his thoughts. Then, in a sharp return to business, “What did you bring us?”

Tony relaxed slightly, glanced back, and flicked his hand in a beckoning gesture. Peter and Genos, hovering just out of sight, exchanged a weary look and then moved to follow him off the jet, Genos just a step behind Peter.

Peter, now, was visibly unsure, shoulders stiff with defiance as he picked his way down, gaze flicking between Steve’s chest and Tony’s ear. Genos, by contrast, had wiped all expression from his mechanical face, eyes flicking once over Tony and settling on Steve.

“Cap,” Tony started – about as respectful as he got these days – and then, with a hint of pride he couldn’t quite suppress, “This is Peter, also known as Spider-Man. You might remember him – local vigilante, super strong, wall crawler, stole your shield once?”

“Experienced at cleaning up your messes,” Steve noted, without changing expression or tone. Because of course he knew about that. The man broke his stern countenance briefly to nod at Peter. “Spider-Man, good to have you with us. No hard feelings, of course.”

Peter smiled, tight and uncertain. “Of course,” he echoed, which was a dirty, dirty lie; Tony knew for a fact that Peter’s grudges against Steve were extensive and numerous.

“I’ve been mentoring him for a while, he’s more than ready,” Tony continued. He offered Peter a quick grin, and then continued, jerking his head towards the other new face. “This is Genos, the Demon Cyborg. Bigshot back at home, you understand. I know ‘cyborg’ might be a bit much for your 1940’s brain, but I promise he won’t blow up.”

Steve’s expression shifted into subtle, incredulous disapproval, which was interesting because Tony hadn’t actually meant for that to happen this time.

“It is an honor, Captain,” Genos offered, voice carefully neutral.

Steve inclined his head slightly, but, uncharacteristically, didn’t return the greeting or take his eyes off Tony.

“You’re an interesting man, Tony,” Steve said quietly, as if they were still friends, still close. Then he shifted back and shrugged. “Get them settled in, introduce them to your people. I’ll explain the situation on my end.”

Steve rarely acknowledged the divide remaining between the two parts of their team. For that matter, Tony didn’t mention it much either. Tony smiled tightly.

“Can do, Spangles. Have fun.”

Steve gave Tony a terse nod, and then turned and left. Only when the door shut behind him did Tony relax and turn back to face the two newest.

“Come on in,” he said with finality, as light as if the tension between him and Steve did not exist. “I’ll get you introduced to the cool kids. You’ll meet Cap’s people over time.”

To Steve’s gratitude, half the team was waiting for him when he returned to his floor, assembled and ready. Scott and Sam were fiddling with Sam’s wing pack, making minor repairs. Clint and Wanda were arguing quietly, and Bucky was by himself, gaze steady on the door, waiting for Steve.

Steve offered him a small smile in greeting, a moment’s pause before he got to business, and then crossed the room to settle on a chair, drawing everyone else’s attention to him.

“So what did Stark do this time?” Clint asked with a small grin, dark amusement dancing across his face as he faced forward again.

Steve let himself sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“He’s recruiting,” he said dryly, thinking of the wide-eyed and wary look on the kid’s face. He shook his head wearily. “Two new teammates. A kid and a robot.”

And it was so like Tony to use the fancy, technical term for something just to mess with him. God knew what the pedantic difference between a cyborg and a robot was, but the days when Steve could just ask had long passed.

There was a brief, stunned silence. Bucky shifted back and raised his eyebrows, looking mildly impressed with Stark’s absurdity.

Sam did, too. “That man is something else,” he remarked, shaking his head. And then, concerned, “A kid? The hell is he thinking?”

Steve shrugged helplessly. “It’s Spider-Man,” he conceded, voice tinged with doubt regardless. “He has experience, and he’s proven already that he can keep up with us.” He huffed quietly. “It’s ambiguous, but it’s not really our call, either.”

Sam’s grimace deepened, and Clint hissed his disapproval, lines digging into his forehead.

“I am more interested in the robot,” Wanda chimed in, head tilted just slightly in a way that sharpened her gaze. “Is he that desperate to pad his numbers?”

Steve winced, and Clint jabbed Wanda in the side.

Once circumstances had forced the Avengers to reunite, the Accords set aside as a matter for a later date, Steve had initially hoped that things could go back to how they used to be.

He had swiftly been proven wrong, but of all the differences their conflict had wrought, the one that hurt the most was the deep, lingering divide down the middle of the team.

“I don’t know,” Steve said at last, and then shrugged. “Maybe.”

#genos #steve rogers #tony stark #peter parker #opm #one punch man #avengers #marvel #crossover #fanfiction #what even is this #i have never heard of restraint in my Life #my writing

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