I’ve been spending some time thinking about just how our
boys prefer to sleep together. As one of my headcanons is that Saitama has
learned to sleep pretty much anywhere, however, I firmly believe that every
single one of these alternatives is as valid as the others.
Little spoon Saitama. Genos burying his head
into Saitama’s shoulder, soft hair tickling pleasantly at the older man’s ears,
his entire metal body curved around that of Saitama. One of Saitama’s hands
clasps loosely with the one he has slung over his Sensei’s chest. Genos derives
a not-so-secret pleasure from the fact that he’s symbolically protecting Saitama,
who manages to look almost vulnerable in his curled-up position. The gentle
whirring of Genos’ core rumbles comfortingly against Saitama’s back, and they
both fall asleep almost immediately.
Big spoon Saitama, nose just brushing against
the hair at the nape of Genos’ neck, arms curving under and up to rest his
fingers against the slats of Genos’ armored chest. Genos doesn’t curl up as
easily as Saitama does, so their legs end up completely tangled, but that’s
okay. The best part about the whole thing is Saitama’s even breathing against
Genos’ neck, and the steady beat of his heart against his back.
Loose spoon. Especially in the summer, when it’s
so warm that even sleeping turns Saitama into a sweaty mess, the two maintain
the spoon position, just farther apart. Oftentimes Genos still has a hand on
Saitama’s side, or Saitama one against the cyborg’s back, and that intimacy is
more than enough.
Back to back. They’re not even touching, but
they don’t have to. They can still hear each other breathing (or whirring) and
take comfort in the fact that the other is there.
Both of them on their backs next to each other,
with just their heads angled towards each other. Their foreheads are so close
that Saitama can feel Genos’ synthetic bangs across his eyebrows.
Sometimes, when they’re feeling really cuddly,
they’ll start off facing each other but end up completely entangled. It’s nice
for the first three minutes or so, but then they slowly drift apart to more comfortable
positions where it’s easier to breathe and not so hot. Saitama keeps his leg
over that of Genos even as they separate.
Genos prefers to sleep on his back, which makes
it more difficult to cuddle with him, so Saitama deals with the issue by
shifting until at least one half of his body is on top of Genos’. He rests his
head on his disciple’s chest and melts into the slightly taller body, regardless
of all the metal plates and electrical cabling. If Genos had possessed an
entirely human body, this position would likely be too uncomfortable to keep up
for too long, but since he doesn’t it works quite well.
Like I said, I
think that all of these are perfectly possible, and if you have any more ideas
What if Genos could swap out his earrings to be more festive or formal?
He has Christmas ones, studs, dangly ones, all sorts he just plays around with when he doesn’t want to mess with whatever function his normal earrings have.
He does a trade with Zenko for a bit and Metal Bat comes home to see her wearing diamond studs while Saitama comes home and sees Genos wearing sparkly Hello Kitty ones
“Seriously?! You fucking oaf! Get off!” You scream at the man that appears to have finally caught his balance. Standing on the edge he takes two large steps towards you. Suddenly you feel as if you underestimated his size.
Pressing a finger to his lips he nods over to the door. You glance over and hesitantly move to shut it.
His eyes narrow and he tilts his head, you strain to hear what he’s focused on. As he moves behind a stack of easels, canvas rolls, and frames there are heavy footsteps on the hallways accompanied by loud voices. You hold your breath listening as the men are talking. Your eyes shoot over to the pile in the corner as you press your ear to the cold metal door of the studio.
“Do ya hear anything?”
“Nah! What about you?”
“Fucking Captain Boomerang! We’ll catch back up with him eventually.”
“We always do. Let’s scram.” The footsteps retreat and you slowly exhale.
You walk over, nudging at the pile of supplies with a foot.
“Watch it!” Boomerang growls as he stands.
With a hand on your hip, you challenge the large man. “My painting suffered a much worse fate you big baby.”
Boomer placed his hand over yours, lifting it to your face and plopping the brush with wet paint on your nose. Satisfied he released your hand and with a smirk, “Maybe ya should consider a new career, Darlin’.”