#if you notice i have Geno braces like Dust

[koreposion]

Geno just trying out new things and being with Blue

[dolltrash-etc]

Bloodletting

Summary: Dr. Kuseno’s latest repairs cause Saitama to see Genos differently.

Words: ~2000

Rating/pairing: T for language. Saitama/Genos, slight fluff, pre-relationship

Note: This is not about bloodplay. I just couldn’t think of a better title, lol.

“Genos, this can’t keep going on,” Dr. Kuseno said as he prodded his forceps deeper into Genos’ arm damage, trying to extract the now-disabled microbot that had been tearing its way through his systems.

“But Doctor, I am a hero. It is my job to stop—”

“No, Genos,” snapped Kuseno, cutting him off. “You have no reason to be a hero any longer. It’s dead and now you should be living as normal a life as you can.” He braced one hand against the remains of Genos’ elbow joint and yanked with the other, pulling the destructive bot free. “We’re both lucky to have survived it’s wrath, which frankly, I never expected. You shouldn’t throw such good fortune away.”

Genos winced, but more at the doctor’s words and disappointment than any physical discomfort. He tried, in as persuasive a tone as he could manage, which probably sounded more like wheedling, “But Saitama-sensei is still a hero, and—”

“Genos,” the doctor cut him off again, “I need to place you into sleep mode to complete your repairs.” The look on his face told Genos he would suffer no more arguments.

“Yes, Dr. Kuseno.”

***

Saitama-sensei had taken care of the rampaging monster immediately after it appeared in their path; Genos hadn’t even had a chance to fight it. It had been some sort of geode creature, with a thick rocky exterior and razor-sharp crystalline teeth. Apparently it had been made of crystals inside as well, because it fairly exploded in a cloud of dust and rubble that sparkled and refracted a myriad of rainbows as the debris rained down through the mid-morning sunlight all around Saitama.

It was very pretty, actually.

“Hey Genos, that was a lot cleaner than usual, huh?” Saitama chuckled as he dusted himself off, then turned to face Genos. “Did you see—”

He stopped speaking, and Genos looked at his sensei again just in time to lose sight of him, his tracking system flashing warnings in his vision as all of a sudden, Saitama-sensei was directly in front of him, a look of horror on his face, and hands hovering next to Genos’ head, fingers twitching minutely as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Also, he was freaking out.

“Genos! What the fuck, man! You’re hurt! Holy shit, what do I do?! Where’s your phone, shouldn’t that doctor of yours know you’re damaged?!! How did this happen?”

“Sensei, what—” Genos couldn’t get any further before Saitama grabbed his chin with one hand and the edge of his cape with the other, and then, much more gently than he could’ve expected from the strongest man in the world, he was dabbing at a spot on Genos’ cheek, and applying gentle pressure.

“How did this happen?” he repeated. “I didn’t even know you had blood!”

Ah, Genos thought. He must’ve been struck by some of the shards of debris from the monster without realizing it. He reached up to extricate himself from Saitama-sensei’s grasp, but it was impossible. He might have been trying to move the Earth itself.

“Sensei,” he began, “I assure you, I am uninjured.”

Saitama just clicked his tongue at him, and pulled the edge of his cape back, eyeing the red blot on it with disfavor. “It does look like it’s stopped,” he conceded. He didn’t step back though. Or remove his other hand. Just stared at the cut, his brow creased and his mouth turned down into a frown.

Genos knew the one thing that would get Saitama to focus and said, “Sensei, we must get to the store if we wish to make it to the timed sale on shortribs.”

That worked.

They did make the sale, but Saitama-sensei didn’t forget about the cut. He just waited until they’d entered the abandoned area of Z-city to demand an answer.

“So you see, sensei, it is merely a superficial difference, implemented by Dr. Kuseno to encourage me to, ahh,” he shot Saitama a sideways glance, only to see him still frowning, “to encourage me to be more careful with my body. In battle.”

Saitama shifted the bags he was carrying all to his left hand and scratched his chin, then stuck a finger in his ear, with his right. “Soooo,” he drawled thoughtfully, “the doctor gave you blood—”

“A pseudo-circulatory system—”

“—because you keep getting beat up.” Saitama narrowed his eyes at him. “Because he doesn’t want you to get beat up.”

“Essentially, yes.”

Saitama sighed his, “I didn’t sign up for this shit,” sigh and continued walking towards home.

Genos let out a relieved breath when it became apparent Saitama-sensei wasn’t going to lecture him, too.

***

Saitama did lecture him, their very next battle.

Genos was so sure he could easily defeat the lobster monster. He’d taken copious notes when sensei had told him about his very first battle with Crablante, and felt confident.

He was still sure he could’ve defeated it, even without his left arm, but Saitama had made a sound that could only be described as a primal roar of rage and anger, then immediately punched the monster so hard it had vaporized.

“Sensei, that was amazing!” Genos praised as Saitama once again used his cape to try and stop Genos from bleeding out. The red fluid spurting from the remains of his upper arm refused to be staunched though, and sensei’s cape was quickly soaking through.

Also, he didn’t seem to appreciate Genos’ attempts to distract him.

“Shut the fuck up! What the fuck, Genos?! Fucking hell! Look at yourself! Fuck! Fuck!!”

Genos shut the fuck up.

***

Later, after Genos had pleaded with Dr. Kuseno over the phone to remotely stop the blood flow, and he’d put on his pair of household arms, Saitama had calmed down, and was sitting in front of the television, acting normal. Or, he was trying to.

Genos’ sensors detected that both his pulse and breathing rate were elevated, and he kept jiggling his knee up and down. He shifted his position 63.8% more often than usual, and would turn to give Genos an unreadable look on average every 2.6 minutes.

And whenever he caught Genos looking at him, he scowled and quickly turned back to his show.

Finally he got to his feet, said, “I’m going for a walk. You stay here,” and left.

Genos took Saitama’s cape out of the tub where it had been left to soak, washed the last traces of his “blood” away, and hung it up on the balcony to dry. Then he returned to his notebooks, annotating his daily activities, until Saitama-sensei finally came home. He was quiet when he entered, and simply stripped down to his boxer shorts, spread out his futon, and lay down to sleep.

Genos soon followed his example, remaining silent, though he was fairly sure his sensei was still awake.

***

Over the next week, Saitama-sensei seemed extremely enthusiastic about fighting monsters. He rushed to defeat every single monster that came within their radius with such speed and determination, that Genos almost began to wonder if his sensei had finally found joy in his strength once more.

When he mentioned this hypothesis on their way home from patrol however, Saitama just shiftily looked off to the side, scratched his neck, and said, “Ah, you know, Genos. I’ll find out if they’re worth a fight faster if I get to them faster.”

“So,” Genos said slowly, narrowing his eyes, “if you reach the monster more quickly, you will not be delaying any gratification that a good fight would give you?”

“Hmm? Uhh, yeah. Yeah, that’s it.”

Genos stopped walking and crossed his arms. “And this has nothing to do with keeping me from entering into battle?”

Saitama jerked around, eyes wide. “What? Why would…why would I do that?” He was holding his hands out in front of him as if to say, Whoa there, buddy.

“Doctor Kuseno put you up to this, didn’t he?” Genos closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over them. Surprisingly, when he opened them again, he saw that Saitama-sensei had relaxed out of his tense posture.

“Genos,” he said, soothingly, “you’re a smart kid—”

“I’m not a kid!”

“—and you got your revenge—”

“With sensei’s help!”

“—so you could go do anything else you wanted to, instead of throwing yourself at monsters—”

“But I want to stay with you, sensei!”

“—and you don’t need to, wait…what?”

Genos clamped his mouth shut and felt that fucking fake blood accumulate in his facial skin.

Saitama stepped closer, and Genos squeezed his eyes shut. Then immediately opened them again when he felt gloved fingers ghosting over his cheek.

“Maybe the blood’s not so bad,” Saitama mumbled, as if to himself.

Genos reached up to grasp Saitama’s wrist, and their eyes met. “It’s not blood, sensei.”

Saitama heaved a sigh and stepped back, pulling out of Genos’ grip. “I know it’s not,” he said. “But when it’s pouring out of you…” He trailed off, shaking his head, then turned around and began walking.

Genos jogged to catch up, and walked quietly alongside him for a few blocks as his mind raced. Finally he said, “Sensei, you have seen me in much worse condition than the last time I lost an arm.” He noticed Saitama flinch a little at that. “Why is this different?” he pressed.

“Because, Genos…” Saitama took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, “because it makes it more real.” He stopped walking and turned towards Genos, but was looking at his hands. “That first day, just that little cut on your face…”

He didn’t seem able to continue, and Genos noticed that he had a faint blush staining his cheeks, too.

“Sensei?” Genos prompted.

Saitama looked up into Genos’ eyes, and the ferocity of his gaze made Genos’ breath catch in his throat. “Because I thought, if you can bleed, you can die, and yeah, I know you’re not invincible, but seeing it flipped a switch or something in my brain and all I know is that I can’t lose you, Genos, because then what? What am I doing this for, if you won’t be there, too?” He latched on to Genos’ arms and gave him a little shake. “How can I stand by and let you be hurt?”

Genos didn’t know what to say, and a moment later, Saitama released him and turned to start walking again.

When Genos caught up this time, he bumped Saitama gently with his arm and shoulder. He kept his eyes forward, but said, “I know I don’t need to continue to be a hero, sensei. But you are a hero, and I wish to follow and support you.”

He could sense that Saitama was about to argue. Genos maneuvered closer and allowed their hands to brush, then tangled his forefinger loosely around Saitama-sensei’s pinky.

Genos could feel the fight leave him again.

They walked a little longer, nearing their apartment, now only a couple blocks away. Genos slowed, then stopped, and Saitama-sensei allowed the anchor of their interlocked fingers to stop him, as well.

“Sensei, I’m going to ask Dr. Kuseno to either remove, or at least, temper the blood feature he installed.” Saitama’s jaw clenched, and his fingers flexed, but he didn’t let go.

Genos stepped forward, closing the gap between them.

“I can’t promise to never get injured, sensei. But I can’t stand back and let you fight alone, even if you don’t need assistance. I want to be there to help, and to work with you.”

“Genos…”

Genos released Saitama’s pinky to twine their fingers together more firmly. “I know you’ll be there when I need you, sensei.”

Saitama looked to the side, swallowed, slanted his eyes back towards Genos, and finally, gave their fingers a little squeeze. “Alright, Genos. We’ll work together.” He turned away, and pulled Genos along with him. “Now let’s get home, I’m starving.”