Soul’s fixation with Maka’s hands becomes normal after a while, but is there a reason behind all those impromptu hand massages?
“Hey, whose turn is it to make dinner tonight?” Maka asked Soul, gingerly stripping her dirt-covered gloves from her fingers.
“Yours,” he said with a sadistic grin. Soul was always delighted on any day that wasn’t his turn to cook. “And don’t think I’m letting you back out of it again. I know we have groceries this time.”
Maka nodded absently, looking down at her scarred and calloused hands mournfully. She could barely uncurl them without feeling a tremor run through them. It was only a month and a half after their fight with the Wolf Man, and while the burns on Maka’s hands had finally healed, the sensitivity remained a constant problem. After missions their functionality was shot to hell. She flexed them gingerly, hoping she’d be able to hold a spatula for next half hour.
“Hey, what’s the hold-up?” Soul called from the living room after not hearing pans clanging together. “You’re not gonna pull that I-have-too-much-homework crap again, are you? You promised to actually make dinner tonight.”
Maka grit her teeth and grabbed a nonstick pan from the drying rack, trying not to think about how difficult it would be to hold a pencil later when she finally did do her homework.
“I got it, I got it. Just don’t rush me, okay?”
Soul must have noticed a change in her voice, because he dropped the asshole routine and turned around on the couch to look at her. “Are you okay?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, reaching into the fridge to pull out the ground chuck for hamburgers. The cool packaging of the beef felt wonderful on her swollen hands.
Soul rolled his eyes and stood up. “Whenever you say ‘it’s nothing’ that means something is wrong and you’re too stubborn to tell me.”
Maka stuck her tongue out at him as he made his way to the kitchen, but didn’t try to dispute him. He was right, after all.
“Your hands are hurting again, aren’t they?” he asked, watching as she tried to grab a spatula using only the tips of her fingers.
He met her in the kitchen and took hold of one of wrists, bringing her hand closer so he could see it in the light. In most cases, Maka bared her battle scars with absolute pride. She loved her job as a meister and she knew that every scar on her body was an indicator that she made it out of a hard battle alive. But the scars on her hands weren’t inflicted by a kishin, but by her own stubbornness and stupidity. If she hadn’t been so insecure after their fight with the Demon Sword she wouldn’t have caused her and Soul’s wavelengths to be out of sync. The newly pink scars on her hands were a reminder of the way she almost broke up their partnership, and looking at them made her feel a little sick.
Soul prodded one of her callouses without warning. Maka yelped and snatched her hand away.
“Ow! What’s your problem?”
Soul took her hand back. “Sorry, I just wanted to see how bad it was.”
“Yeah, well a little warning would—be—” she trailed off when Soul’s hands moved to grip her whole hand instead, pressing his fingertips softly into the sore parts of her hand. “—nice…….”
It became increasingly hard to focus when Soul’s thumb and index finger were pressing against either side of her hand, massaging slow circles into the meat of her palm. The sensation was foreign and so welcomed that Maka completely forgot what she was talking about. His hands moved slowly up hers, rubbing her knuckles gently and pinching each finger around the joint until she could slowly unfurl her fingers. Maka watched the whole ordeal speechlessly, not sure what to say when her partner gives her a hand massage two minutes after berating her for not cooking dinner fast enough.
“Does the left one hurt too?” he asked.
She nodded slowly, and watched in amazement as he gave her other hand the exact same treatment. He rubbed each bit of her hand with careful scrutiny, waiting until she was able to flex it properly before he finally let go.
Maka looked down at her hands, which definitely still stung but were a lot more mobile than they hand been five minutes ago. How did he do that?
But as Maka opened her mouth to ask him what that was all about, Soul was picking up the package of beef from the counter to get a better look at it.
“Burgers? Cool. Tell me when they’re ready.” And with that, he went back to the couch to watch more TV.
Maka looked down at her hands in bewilderment, flexing her hands again. She still wanted to ask him about what just happened, or thank him maybe, but it seemed like he didn’t want to talk about it. So she picked up the package of beef, intent on leaving it be, for now.
