Chapter Text
Saitama arrived just in time to see Genos land the final blow on the monster. It looked to be Demon level, if he had to guess, and while the cyborg appeared to be a bit beaten up, he still had all of his limbs intact.
The giant, spider-like creature twitched once from where it was lying on its back in the middle of the street, then went still. Its body was burned and broken and missing several legs. That is, if it had even had 8 legs in the first place. Genos was standing over it like some sort of gladiator, and Saitama didn’t doubt that if the cyborg had had real lungs, he would have been panting, his chest heaving from exertion.
He was about to call out to Genos when he noticed Fubuki. The woman was standing a dozen feet away from the monster, her arms outstretched as a whirlwind of rocks and dust whipped around her. She clenched her fists and the blizzard stopped immediately, pebbles and little bits of buildings falling to the ground as gravity took its hold on them. She smoothed her hair back into place with a grin. “Nice work, Genos.”
Saitama frowned, something twisting in his chest at her use of the cyborg’s real name. It seemed… Overly familiar. Wasn’t she supposed to call him Demon Cyborg?
“You as well, Miss Blizzard,” Genos nodded, straightening up. He paused for a moment, and Saitama guessed he was doing some diagnostics on himself or something, because then he frowned and said, “I have sustained minor damages to my right arm. If you’ll excuse me…”
“Oh, are you going to be alright?” Fubuki asked, and Saitama was tempted to glare at her. Her voice was honey-sweet and overly concerned, insincere.
“I can fix it myself,” Genos said, shrugging, “As I said, the damages are minor. They only inhibit me from moving my little finger.”
Fubuki stepped closer. “Here, let me see,” she said, taking hold of Genos’s hand without waiting for permission.
The cyborg frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Do you know anything about mechanics, Miss Blizzard?”
“Oh, a few things,” Fubuki practically purred, stepping even closer so that her breasts were pressing against Genos’s arm. Her voice was low and sultry, seductive in a way that would probably have made most men weak at the knees. Saitama was suddenly very glad that Genos’s knees were made of metal and, thus, could not go weak.
However, even without the whole weak-kneed thing, it was pretty obvious that Genos was feeling… something. His cheeks were pink and Saitama felt something in his gut turn over uncomfortably.
“I- I was not aware,” Genos stuttered, his eyes wide. He looked like a deer in staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. A very attractive, busty car, but a car nonetheless.
“Oh, I’m very good with my hands,” Fubuki told him, her lips quirking up at the corners. Saitama clenched his fists, glaring daggers at the woman. Really, did she think a blatant come-on like that was going to work on Genos?
But.. The more Saitama looked at the two of them, the more he thought that, well, maybe it was working? Genos was blushing and his voice was shaky and a little bit staticy, something Saitama had noticed only happened when he was embarrassed or nervous.
And maybe that meant Genos liked Fubuki. Saitama could understand that -- the woman was pretty attractive, after all, and while she was nowhere near on Genos’s level in terms of power, she could handle herself in a fight. Sure, she was manipulative and coercive, but even those things could be thought of as admirable qualities depending on where one was standing. And Fubuki obviously liked Genos back; she looked like she was two minutes away from jumping his bones (Er, cables?) in the middle of the rubble-strewn street.
Maybe they’d be cute together. Maybe they’d walk arm in arm and defeat monsters on their way to fancy dinners. Maybe Genos would propose to Fubuki under the light of the full moon and she’d throw her arms around him and say yes. Maybe they’d get married and have weird cyborg-human baby hybrids. Genos would be a good Dad, Fubuki a distant but loving mother, and the more Saitama thought about it, the more weird… feelings bubbled up in his chest.
Something inside him was yelling ‘ No’ so loud he could feel it in his bones. It was dark and ugly and clawing at his insides, up his throat, angry and bitter and spiteful. It wanted to tear Fubuki to shreds. How dare she touch Genos like that, press up against him like that. How dare she make him blush and stutter and emit little staticy sounds.
Without really thinking about what he was doing, Saitama stormed forwards. He stepped down on a small chunk of concrete rubble and it turned to dust beneath his boot. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he was leaving footprints in the pavement. “Genos,” he called out, and the cyborg’s head whipped around.
“Sensei?” he asked, confusion written all over his face. He was still blushing, possibly even harder now.
“Come on,” Saitama growled, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from Fubuki. The woman’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t pay her any attention, even when she muttered out a snide, “Well hello to you too.” Instead, he began dragging Genos towards home.
“Sensei? Is something wrong? Are you angry?” Genos’s eyes were wide with worry, “Have I done something, Master? Please tell me what it is, I- Master, you’re crushing my hand.”
Saitama paused and looked down at where their hands were joined. He let go of Genos and noticed, aghast, that he’d left dents in the metal. “Oh, Jeez. I’m sorry, Genos. Is that… Did I hurt you?” He took Genos’s hand again, cradling it in his palms and inspecting it for further damage.
“No, Master,” the cyborg said with a slight, almost imperceptible wince. “I will go into Battle Mode; that should cut off my pain receptors.”
“So I did hurt you!” Saitama winced himself, guiltily. “Shit, Genos… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
From behind them, Fubuki coughed, and Saitama realized that he was standing in the middle of the street, cradling Genos’s hand like the cyborg was some sort of delicate woodland creature rather than a heavily-armed force of fiery destruction. He let go as quickly as if he’d been burned.
“Uh. Hey there, Fubuki… I, um… I was just-”
“I believe sensei and I have urgent matters to attend to,” Genos supplied, and in that moment, Saitama could have kissed him out of sheer relief. He didn’t want to explain why he’d dragged Genos away from the woman; he couldn’t really explain it himself.
“Yeah, we do. So if you’ll excuse us…” He gave Fubuki an awkward smile and walked off, trying and failing to resist the urge to check if Genos was following. He was.
Saitama smiled and looked down at his shoes, unable to shake the feeling that he’d won something.