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The Effects of Poorly Done Laundry

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Saitama wondered if he was overthinking things. He had been paying more attention than usual lately, so maybe he just hadn’t noticed until now the way his cyborg roommate tended to dress while in the apartment. Either way, the past few days he had noticed it. And frankly, it was getting to be distracting. Rather, it was distracting and he was getting worse at ignoring it over time. The shirts were tighter, if there was a shirt at all, also he could swear that Genos had wore those same shorts yesterday and they weren’t as tight as they were right now. But that really didn’t make sense, Genos couldn’t have gained weight or anything. Unless... Yesterday was laundry day. And Genos had insisted on taking both his and Saitama’s laundry to the basement himself…

No way to know except.. “Genos,” Saitama finds himself calling from the living room just as Genos is entering the kitchen. His roommate’s attention is full and immediate, a little bit disconcerting to be honest, and Saitama instantly regrets speaking since the question he’s about to ask is so ridiculous.

“Yes teacher?”

Genos looks so serious Saitama wants to tell him to chill out, but that would probably be rude. “Ah, nothing important really but uh… Did you happen to shrink your clothes in the dryer yesterday?”

He can see the cyborg’s eyes flash as they do that weird thing they do when he’s analyzing something but Genos tilts his head down and the sight-line is broken. “Ah, yes teacher. I did not pay enough attention to the tags and dried these” two fingers pluck at the offending material, “on high heat believing they were cotton, but they turned out to be a blend. I suspect they will stretch out again but they did shrink a bit.” He looks up then and Saitama wants to look away now. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

Ah yes it was a weird thing to notice wasn’t it. Shit. He needed a good excuse… Quickly now… “They just looked like the same ones you wore yesterday but a lot shorter, so I wondered.” There. Wait that was actually the truth, what the hell. Now Genos was gonna think he was weird, noticing something like that. Who notices the length of their roommate’s shorts? Saitama apparently.

“Don’t worry, teacher.” Saitama was chagrinned to know Genos could read his anxious expression and wondered how to weasel out the mess he’d dug into, “I’m always much more careful when washing your clothes so I’m sure not to shrink them. You can continue to rely on me.”

“Oh.” Saitama blinked. “That’s good then.” Genos nodded and turned, continuing into the kitchen and leaving Saitama to heave a sigh of relief. The teen thought he was worried about his own clothes and had not realized that he had been staring way too much at firm metal thighs and the peek of some sort of black rubbery material just below the hem of his shorts’ legs. Small blessings.

 

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Okay if there wasn’t some kind of law against this there should be. Saitama had entered the hallway having just slunk in after a short walk to the nearest corner store for a few household items they were out of. He had slipped his shoes off, sat one of the bags off in the bathroom and was about to enter the kitchen when he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of his cyborg roommate in front of the stove. But it wasn’t just him standing there that made him stop, it was what he was wearing. Namely, a pair of too short shorts, a different pair than the offending article from a couple of days ago but just as short, no shirt, and… And… A pink apron? “What the hell..?”

“Ah, welcome back,” Genos said as he turned around and Saitama pretended he hadn’t just imagined the cyborg like a housewife.

“Yeah, I’m home,” he mumbled, out of politeness, but he was still thrown and “What are you wearing?” tumbled out of his mouth before he could close it.

Saitama was a little annoyed that Genos didn’t have the decency to look even slightly abashed about his state of dress, tiny shorts and open back showing off the elegant curved metal of his spine... But then again he was a dude and a teenager, living with another dude… Maybe Saitama was the one being weird here.

“I found it on sale,” Genos said and he did NOT just do a little twirl in the kitchen.  That had to have been a figment of Saitama’s imagination. It might have been better if it was. “I noticed a lot of food stains on my shirts the last time I did laundry so when I saw this I grabbed it.”

“You aren’t wearing a shirt though,” Saitama said blandly.

Genos’ brow furrowed. “I don’t want food or grease getting on my torso, either,” he said as though it should have been obvious, and really it kind of should have if Saitama had been thinking. “It’s annoying to clean off, especially if it gets caked around the ports.”

“Ah,” was the only thing Saitama could manage, and after a while Genos finally turned around, seeming to accept that the conversation was over. It was too bad that turning put his back and legs in those too short shorts back in Saitama’s view.

It was happening before he even realized he was moving and after the frankly too-pleasant slide of his hand just alongside the cool metal running up the dip of Genos’ back, Saitama found himself frozen as the pads of his fingers touched the soft hem of the shorts riding low on the cyborg’s hips.

Genos was frozen too and Saitama found himself wondering what in the hell he had done now. He jerked his hand back and took a step away as Genos turned to look at him over his shoulder. Saitama thought for a moment his gaze was accusatory but it was really more curious than anything. “Teacher?” Was all Genos said but that single word was enough to encompass all the thoughts Saitama was sure was running through his head. Stuff like “that was weird,” and. probably more pressing. “why did you just touch me?”

“Ah, ha haha, I wondered if you were cold,” Saitama lied a little overenthusiastically. His mouth was twisted into an awkward grin and he hoped Genos didn’t have any way of sensing the cold sweat that had his hands feeling clammy.

Genos eyes narrowed a fraction. “And?” he asked, and was that.. a lilt to his voice? It didn’t matter, Saitama needed to get out of there now.

“Nope you seem fine. Very warm,” he said a little too loudly, backing away as he spoke. “I’m gonna go take a bath now so you just go back to uh. Whatever you’re doing. Cooking!” He ducked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom in less than a second, closing the door quickly and breathing through his nose as he tried to calm down.

He spent a few moments trying to wrap his mind around what had just gone down in his kitchen… By his own hand no less, but thinking too much was giving him a headache and a weird squirmy feeling in his gut that he didn’t actually want to identify so he instead stripped and turned the water on. Waiting for the bath to fill didn’t sound great though, so he stepped into the shower instead, opting to shower and sing loudly (and terribly) to make a distraction for himself and hope he forgot about everything by the time he was finished.


Genos meanwhile in the kitchen was smiling softly as he caught snippets of Saitama’s enthusiastic singing and pressed a pencil to the paper of his journal, an elegant flick making a checkmark next to the words “clothes,” in a short list of entries.