The next morning, Genos was still asleep when Saitama woke up. He leaned over his roommate's sleeping form, and very, very carefully pried open one eyelid.
Shifting his weight slightly, Saitama leaned in even closer, his own eyelashes nearly tangling with synthetic blond ones, and peered at the external retinal display.
"Oh, updates." He patted Genos sleepily on the cheek and shuffled off to make something simple for breakfast.
Beneath the layer of soft silicone, Genos' face was hard and warm, like a window pane on a hot day. It shattered like glass too.
Saitama couldn't recall another coherent thought after that one, but the egg in his tamago kake gohan had begun to curdle by the time Genos awoke. He would never get used to it, even if the kid slept in every day until they were a hundred. Genos levered into a sitting position like a cartoon character waking up from a nightmare.
"Have your updates finished?"
Genos rubbed his eyes, even though he had no rheum to collect in the corners. "Yes, sensei."
"Did they mess up the gooey this time?"
"GUI," Genos corrected, but Saitama still couldn't hear the difference. "All systems seem nominal, sensei."
"Well, that's good. There's a timed sale at the department store in City F today, so I was thinking-"
Genos levered forward again until he was folded in half, bent at the waist with his forehead to his knees.
"Uh, are you really al-"
"I am sorry, sensei!"
"Oh, you're bowing. Stop that."
Genos straightened up, but he kept his head lowered. "I made plans with Blizzard of Hell to go shopping together today."
"Huh," said Saitama. "I don't remember you guys making plans."
"She texted me after everyone had left. Sensei probably did not hear it. I'm on vibrate."
"I guess, but you do tend to clang a lot, when-"
"You were in the bathroom," said Genos.
He and Genos were always interrupting each other these days. It never really seemed rude to Saitama, although he was hardly an expert in etiquette. It was just... efficient. Like they already knew what the other was going to say.
"Well, that makes sense."
Genos untangled himself from the blankets and joined Saitama in the kitchen. "I would invite you, but we are buying things sensei would not approve of."
"Huh?" Saitama could feel the tips of his ears turn red and, once again, mourned his hair. "What kind of things-"
"Full-price."
"Oh."
"I am sorry, s-"
"I told you to stop apologizing." Saitama held out a second bowl, but Genos just stared at it with a look of abject confusion on his face. "What? I can cook too."
He felt it unnecessary to mention that tamago kake gohan was the Japanese equivalent of Cheerios.
"Thank you, sensei." Genos accepted the bowl. "I thought you told me to stop bowing."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
Genos took a deep and unnecessary breath, obviously about to start another two-hour lecture on the differences between zarei and senrei forms of prostration.
"Don't worry about it," Saitama waved a hand as if to encompass their whole morning. "It's good for you to make friends your own age."
Genos looked even more confused. "Blizzard of Hell is closer in age to you than me, sensei."
Saitama rolled his eyes. "Your own tax-bracket then."
He emptied his bowl and dropped it in the sink. The wasted food barely even bothered him. Conversations with Genos could be exhausting sometimes, and he wasn't even the one doing all the bowing. At least the futons were still laid out.
"Would you like to go shopping?" asked Genos.
"Did you really have to do that to my guards?" asked Fubuki.
"The gas has no lasting effects."
Fubuki sighed, and if it was somewhat gusty, she felt at least her name gave others fair warning. "I'll get my purse."
She took a moment to make sure Lily wouldn't wake up with a crick in her neck before recovering her handbag from the neophyte member assigned to carry it.
"Where are we going?"
Genos faltered. "I don't have- I don't- I just assumed you would know."
She sighed again. He looked like he was lagging, but it would probably be insensitive to say that. "At least it's not crabs for your sensei."
Genos lit up. Literally.
"We're not buying crabs for your sensei." She put her hands on her hips, and for once it wasn't to draw attention to them. Genos did look down, but he was sizing her up in a figural way if the glow emanating from his palms was anything to go by. It looked like some sort of cyborg stigmata. For someone who claimed indifference to optics, Genos certainly had style. Except when it came to his actual style. "We're buying clothes."
Genos looked like someone had peed on his processor. "Why?"
"No." Fubuki was quickly getting fed up. "You know what? Why me?"
"What?"
"I didn't even do anything last night. It was all King and Big Sis."
Genos furrowed his brow, and Fubuki got even more pissed off when she realized he would never have to worry about wrinkles.
"The other two are not planners. They act on instinct, like my sensei."
"Yeah, right. You're afraid of them."
The furrow increased. "I have a healthy respect for people of immense power."
"What's the difference?" she asked.
The kid looked like he was about to launch into another exultation of Saitama's alleged virtues. Before he could, Fubuki placed a well-manicured finger to his lips. They were surprisingly soft. Fubuki didn't swing that way, but still… Lucky Saitama.
"It's time for you to listen, Chatty Cathy," she said.
"No! The only thing I want to listen to is your apology for trying to- to out me to Saitama-sensei!"
Genos was venting enough steam to dry clean Fubuki's panties, but she could still see her eyes go wide in the reflection from his chest plates. "What? We weren't- Shit. Okay. We might have been out of line, but you've got the wrong end of the death ray, sweetheart. Can you at least admit you need our help?"
"I admit to nothing."
"Okay. I'm calling for back up." Fubuki pulled her phone out of its side pocket and scrolled down to her emergency contact, which was listed under something a little more colorful than Big Sis.
She would let Tatsumaki call King.
