The Painter's Blood

Three Headed Coin

Genos didn't consider the fact that he would be alone in a room with Saitama. Before his injury, Genos may not have paid their suddenly smaller surrounding any mind. However, after his dream, and unable to work in a wide area like the hallway or throne room, he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to Saitama lips.

Of course, since he was merely observing the Count's body language and facial features, he could easily pass it off as normal. Saitama hadn't seemed to notice anyway.

The Count was talking about nothing in particular, and Genos found it comforting that he could just listen to his voice. There were occasional stretches of silence, but they didn't bother Genos much. The Count wasn't the type to talk much, he'd noticed.

"What are you thinking about?"

The question caught Genos off guard, and his gaze flitted up from Saitama's lips to meet his eyes. "Hm?"

"You looked lost in thought. I was just wondering what you could be thinking about." Saitama repeated. Genos' gears began to tick faster, and a puff of steam rose from his vents as he looked down at his lap.

"I wasn't really thinking about much." Genos said. Of course, it was a lie, and an awful one at that. He couldn't stop the thoughts swirling around inside him, insecurity and fondness mixing him up into a can of stress coloured paint.

"Hm." Saitama scooted his chair closer, frowning. "Genos. If something is wrong-"
"Nothing is wrong!" Genos said quickly. At least, he didn't think anything was wrong. He was a person, after all, and people tended to develop feelings for others. He'd always thought he was unable to feel things like romantic love- he never had before, anyways.

Perhaps it was just that his focus had never really been on stuff like relationships.

'You aren't a person. You're a tool.'

He shook his head lightly to clear it, looking up at Saitama once more and fiddling with his fingers. "I think the damage I sustained caused a bit more stress than I originally imagined."

"Of course it did." Saitama nodded shortly, as if it were obvious. "Everyone needs to take things easy after getting hurt like that."
Genos felt as if the paint coursing through him was bubbling beneath his cuirass.

"Well, what about you? Weren't you injured?" Genos asked.
Saitama shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

There was a long stretch of silence, in which Genos glanced back down at Saitama's lips and Saitama stared at Genos' hands.

The Count licked his lips, opening his mouth to speak.

"Knock knooock!~"

They both startled at the sudden intrusion, Tornado flinging the door open and waving a stack of papers cheerily.

"Great news, Baldy! You're gonna wanna thank me for this one, so I suggest a raise and maybe even a Ball thrown in my honour." She singsonged, holding the papers out to Saitama.

"It's rude to address His Majesty like that." Genos huffed. Tornado glanced at him, scowling.

"And who are you to talk to me like that, huh you glorified paintbrush?!"

She waved the papers at him in frustration, but turned to Saitama once the Count had pulled them from her grasp.

"And these papers are?"

"The alliance between Northumbra and the Kingdom of Lancelot, of course." Tornado said haughtily. "I understand if you need a moment to cry tears of joy."
Her expression was smug, arms crossed and eyes closed in self satisfaction.

"Good work." Saitama said simply, setting the papers aside.

"Good work?! That's all I get?! I'll have you know it took days to get them to even consider! Plus, I flew for ages and-"

"Yes, yes. That's great." Saitama sighed, waving dismissively. "Go rest and I'll arrange a pay increase later."
Tornado huffed, scowling, but did as she was told. The door slammed with finality, signaling her departure.

"An alliance?" Genos asked, brows raised slightly.
"It's always good to have a backup plan. With this setback, I'm not sure if I'll be able to meet the deadline for the portrait I've commissioned you for." Saitama explained.

Genos felt rather cold.

"Oh. I wasn't aware that we were on a strict timeframe."

"Hm? Oh. Well, I'm only estimating. I expect something will happen soon. Perhaps when I next address the public, or when the time comes for the Changing of the Lights Festival."

"Oh." Genos repeated. He looked down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers for a moment before quickly looking up at Saitama again. "Wait- Changing of the Lights Festival?"

"Hm? Have you never taken part in it? It's an annual thing. I thought you'd lived here for a while?" Saitama asked, tilting his head slightly.
"No, I haven't. I've always been busy focusing on honing my skills." Genos said. "What... Is it like?"

The Count paused, face as expressionless as ever. It was difficult to read just what may be on his mind. Genos thought that perhaps the Count was thinking of a way to let him down easy. After all-

'A tool doesn't deserve to enjoy things. Festivals are for people. You are not one of them.'

"-and we can... Genos?"

Genos blinked, gaze snapping back to meet Saitama's. "Yes?"

Saitama's brow creased in concern, and his frown deepened. "Are you sure you're okay? Should I call for the Doctor again?"

"No, I'm fine. I was just... Thinking."

Saitama hummed, as if skeptical, but he didn't question Genos about it any further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and ran a hand along his head, closing his eyes lightly. He let out another sigh, his expression looking a bit pained.

"So then. Are you going to the festival with me, or not? It's in two weeks."

Genos felt that odd bubbly feeling again, and he sat up straighter as another puff of steam rose up around him. He clenched his fists, grinning widely. "Really?! You'll show me around, right?! Of course! I can't wait!"

Saitama straightened, rolling his eyes and shrugging nonchalantly. "Yeah, yeah. It's not that big a deal. Calm down."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Genos stared at the ceiling, posture rigid beneath the duvet.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way The Count had licked his lips earlier. The way The Count had let that small smile slip onto his face at Genos' enthusiasm, despite his dismissive words.

He felt as if he were reading too deeply into things. There was no way Saitama had romantic intentions in asking him to the festival.
He was merely being a good host.

There was no need to obsess over it.

He should just focus on resting.

Or maybe on practice, at least. Now that he was aware that there was a deadline, he was determined to make progress. Saitama was counting on him.

The rapid tick of his inner workings slowed, the sound becoming more hollow and echoey. It was a familiar feeling, but only one he'd come to know recently.

And he dreamt again.

//1162 words!
//The next chapter will be out around early to mid February. Hope this update didn't disappoint! We're working our way to the climax!