Chapter Text
World class heroes are famous for their strength, their cunning, their amazing gifts and powers. One might expect them them to also be as extraordinary when it comes to social interactions, to be above spreading petty rumours or talking behind each others' backs.
Such, however, is not the case.
In fact, those more familiar with the inner workings of the Hero Association could probably go on all day about all the near constant rumours, the insults shouted high and low and the silly arguments more suited for a school yard than the state of the art HA headquarter building of City A. But perhaps such is life; many heroes find eventually that they stand alone, never truly on even footing with other people, be it normal mortals or even with other heroes. Perhaps this breeds a certain level of aloofness, a difficulty with feeling familiar and comfortable around others.
Well, perhaps this is sometimes the case. But at other times, the cause might be something as simple as good old boredom sprinkled with not a small amount of exasperation.
Fact: It was hopelessly clear to almost everyone that the bratty S-rank Demon Cyborg and weirdo B-rank Caped Baldy had a thing for each other. They were always seen together, if the rumours were true they even lived together, went out for dinner together, took baths together, went to festivals together. It was visible plain as day in the way they'd look at each other - lingering looks, little smiles, fidgeting whenever near the other. Painfully obvious.
The only people who were not aware of their shared crush were, it seemed, Demon Cyborg and Caped Baldy.
This was amusing at first, but the longer it went on without anything happening, the more annoyed some of the fellow heroes that had the misfortune of having to share a table with the duo during HA meetings got. It was awkward, the way those two acted around each other. Dragged everyone down around them into a pit of awkward looks and flustered faces, for crying out loud, they couldn't even have a normal dull-as-hell meeting any more without everyone shifting in their seats and giving each other "can you believe this?" looks.
It got to the point that one day, during a large meeting involving not only S-ranks but also heroes from all the other ranks, even down to the top of the C-ranks, two particular esper sisters found themselves whispering angrily and not-too-subtly about it from their spot opposite and a few seats down from the troublesome duo.
It was true that Fubuki and Tatsumaki often did not get along well, or at the very least it might appear that way to outsiders. And it was true, they did argue quite a bit, but that's how it had always been between them. They were sisters, they knew each other inside and out. They had found a sort of balance in their relationship and despite the occasional bickering and name-calling, they did get along, sometimes.
Especially if they had a shared goal.
"It's absolutely ridiculous. It's so obvious it's painful. Why don't they do anything about it?" hissed Fubuki, jutting her chin in the direction of the blond cyborg pulling out a chair for Saitama to sit on, giving a quick little smile when that earned him a low "thanks man".
"Beats me" sighed Tatsumaki. She shifted in her own seat, legs dangling. "They're both so dense, those two. I think someone would have to spell it out before them before they realized how they feel about each other."
"Spell it out?" Fubuki said with a dangerous grin. "Watch this, sis."
Esper powers in actions can be bright and flashy and dangerous-looking, often aided by a dramatic flair in the people wielding them. But they can also be subtly, carefully exercised by those skilled enough, as suggestive and gentle as a summer breeze.
With everyone finally seated, the tired-looking suit had begun talking about HA economy and quotas and public images. Many heroes already sported expressions that were bored, tired or both. The two intended victims looked the same as usual; one of them with a bland face perfectly devoid of emotion, the other frowning as if he'd just swallowed a cactus. Time to change that.
Softly, Fubuki exercised her mysterious powers for the noblest of causes. Something akin to a breeze suddenly wafted through the stuffy room, ruffling shirts and, more importantly, a certain perfectly groomed head of blond bangs.
Summer breeze indeed.
Demon Cyborg blinked as his hair suddenly stood awkwardly in all directions. The bald man next to him smirked for a moment before matter-of-factly bringing out a hand to flatten it down again. Without much success, unfortunately. Which may or may not be the result of a certain esper making sure it kept standing up again to give a perfect impression of wonderfully messy bedhead. Or sex hair. Whichever you prefer.
Fubuki smirked to herself again as the bald one muttered something about persistent drafts, receiving no response from his companion who was currently too busy sitting rock-still, expression unreadable as strong fingers wove through his hair.
It took a few moments and a pointed glare from the suit before Saitama let go of Genos' head and they turned their attention back to his numerous charts. Genos hair looked better at least, though still not nearly as smooth as it usually was.
"My turn" whispered Tatsumaki, cracking her knuckles.
It seemed another breeze suddenly went through the room, only this one was far more localized. In fact, the only thing that was affected seemed to be Caped Baldy's shirt. He had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his neck, eyes almost completely closed as he zoned out. Probably the reason he didn't even seem to notice when the hem of his shirt seemed to travel upwards, exposing a small but oh so delicious amount of tantalizing soft-looking stomach.
What had happened may have been lost on Saitama, but it was most certainly not lost on Genos. Blazing eyes turned not-so-discreetly to the exposed skin. He visibly swallowed and if the esper duo was not mistaken, there was a soft but insistent sound coming from his metal body now, a low murmur like the straining fans of a computer.
"Score" came the harshly whispered words from Tatsumaki. "That's how you do it."
Fubuki wasn't ready to admit defeat just yet, though. Surely she couldn't let her older sister win so easily.
"Yeah? That's nothing!"
Genos had turned his head away with what looked like great regret, blinking as he attempted to focus on the man talking at the end of the table. Given how his body was still producing that fan-like sound though, it wasn't hard to guess where his thoughts were. Unfortunately for him, that was just the inspiration Fubuki needed.
The next time Genos turned to look at his teacher, he stopped himself from squeaking at the last second, bringing a hand to his mouth and earning a handful of annoyed stares from the heroes around him. The fan sound grew into a clearly audible screech upon seeing the edges of Saitama's shorts, which had somehow climbed dangerously high when he had shifted his pose in his chair. Why?! It shouldn't even affect him like this, for crying out loud he'd seen the man naked multiple times! It was just, the way the fabric hugged his shape, the way it showed so much yet left the best to the imagination...
With a shake of his head, Genos turned his head back to the suit once more. At this point, even Saitama had realized his distress, putting his arms back in his lap and leaning forward.
"Hey man, you okay?" he asked in a far too high volume, earning them yet another angry glare from the man trying to give his talk. "What's up? Oh."
So close to his room mate – he just wanted to make sure he was okay, he was acting so fidgety – it quickly became quite obvious what was "up".
Saitama stared. "Um."
Genos had closed his eyes when his teacher leaned so close to him, not trusting himself if he kept looking at him at this rate, but at his surprised tone he opened them again and followed his gaze, down to... himself and his... crotch.
It seemed that Caped Baldy was not the only one affected by the breeze. Because frankly there was nothing else that could explain the... questionable... shape in his pants. It wasn't even physically possible, for crying out loud! With a squeak – no chance of stopping it this time - he hurriedly pushed his chair further in under the table in a valiant effort to hide himself, apologizing to Saitama all the while, speaking so fast that his words blurred together to everyone around them, impossible to make out what he was trying to say. Perhaps just as well, because the other nearby heroes were all rather wishing they were somewhere else right now. Preferably somewhere far away from Caped Baldy and Demon Cyborg and their awkwardness.
"You're cruel!" gasped Fubuki to her sister, but she couldn't quite keep the mirth out of her voice.
"Hey! I told you, they need it spelled out or they'll never get it. We're just helping them, is all!"
They quieted down for a while as the lecture continued. Didn't take long for their interest to start drifting again, though. There was, after all, a sight in the room far more amusing than the graph demonstrating HA donations over the last 6 months. It was quite amusing to see them both appearing to sport their normal bland/scowling expressions but between flushed cheeks and screeching fans they couldn't quite manage it any more.
"So do you think they get it yet?" Fubuki whispered with a sigh. It was quite obvious who she meant.
"Nope" replied Tatsumaki, studying how the other two seemed to have gone back to more or less normal by now, though Demon Cyborg was still sending the occasional worried glance towards his crotch, as if to make sure it wasn't leading a life of its own down there.
"How much more do you think it would take before they realized it?"
"I don't know. Do you want to find out?"
"Hell yeah."