On ffn here. (endless thanks to @chaoticlivi for beta-ing <3)
Whoever invented nap time was a saint.
Soul tiptoes through the living room, picking up pieces of staff paper filled in with bright crayon approximations of music notes and nearly sobbing as he steps, barefoot, on another fucking Lego. Maka says they’re great for mental development and Sage seems to enjoy them, but he’s of the mind that they’re tiny plastic torture devices and is none too gentle throwing it into the giant plastic tub with the rest of their collection.
Satisfied that the living room is tidy enough, he moves into the kitchen to get started on lunch: simple but satisfying PB&J’s on whole grain bread with sliced apples. Sage takes after her mother and prefers the bread toasted, but he’ll hold down the fort for the true classic: untoasted, hold the crust. He just hopes she doesn’t lecture him again about all the nutrients he’s missing; she might be five, but she’s already absorbing everything she hears, sees, and reads with terrifying voraciousness. Shuddering, Soul contemplates a future where two pairs of green eyes, one a fiery emerald and the other her namesake sage, stare him down so he’ll eat his veggies. Well, he thinks fondly, that’s a small price to pay for time spent with the loves of his life.
Glancing at the lucky cat clock on the wall (ha ha Blair, real funny wedding present), he speeds up his sandwich making and packs them into little parchment paper sleeves, adding an extra toasted sandwich for Maka. A few deft scythe finger chops are all it takes before the apples are likewise sliced and packed away, and he grabs their water bottles out of the fridge where they’ve been chilling all morning.
Time to go watch Mama kick some ass.
Peeking into Sage’s bedroom, the walls covered with scraps of paper holding her “compositions” (she did seem to inherit his affinity for music in addition to her sharp teeth), he finds her dozing angelically, just as he left her an hour ago after a vicious Nerf gun showdown. He’d lost, but to be fair, she has a tiny surface area and all the speed of an overcaffeinated Black*Star. “Hey pup,” he murmurs, gently shaking her shoulder. “Time to get up. Mama’s waiting for us.”
Bleary eyes blink up at him while she yawns impressively, tips of her teeth glinting in the light from the door. “Are we gonna watch Mama beat up bad guys?” she asks, sitting up and rubbing an eye with the back of her hand. Pausing, she asks, more excitedly, “Am I gonna beat up bad guys?”
Soul can’t help but laugh. Her bedtime stories since she was born have been a mix of educational parables and watered-down versions of their own fighting experience. Like a true warrior’s daughter, Sage wants to ‘fight bad people’ and 'make life fair for everyone!’ Maka always smiles fiercely when Sage says this, nurturing her budding desire for equity for all by encouraging her to learn as much as she can about the world to better protect it.
“Not today, Sage. Maybe when you’re a teensy bit older,” he says, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her, because why not?
“But Papa, I already beat you up,” she argues, giggling nonetheless as he swings her up onto his shoulders. “And you’re, like, the strongest person I know after Mama!”
“Yeah, well, that’s different,” he grumbles. Listen, toddlers with Maka’s genes and temper can really do a number on a guy when his back is turned and the floor is slippery.
“Then what is Mama doing?” Sage puts her hands on each of Soul’s cheeks so he puffs them out, relishing her tinkling peals of laughter when she smooshes them in and the air whooshes out.
“She’s doing a demonstration for her students,” he says, grabbing their bagged lunches from the counter and making sure he has his wallet for the bus.
“Demon-stration?” Sage squints at the unfamiliar feeling of the word.
“It means showing other people how to do something,” Soul answers, grabbing her sunhat before he forgets. His littlest angel won’t be getting sunburned on his watch.
“Ooooooh,” she says, nodding. Then, when she sees her sunhat, she whines, “Noooo, Papa, can we take the bike, pleeeeeeease? Pretty please, with your favorite sushi on top?”
Secretly extremely pleased that his daughter loves the motorcycle as much as he does, he has to at least try to dissuade her so when he inevitably resonates with Maka later, he can be honest with his explanation as to why they took the bike. “Now now pup, you know your mother doesn’t like it when you’re on the bike. It can be dangerous.”
“But Papa, you drive slower than Baba Yaga walks. That can’t be dangerous, right?”
Grinning, he swipes his motorcycle keys from the hook by the door and says, “Good point, Sage. I’ll even take the extra safe backroads.”
He walks down the basement stairs to happy cheers, gently reaching up and placing her on the ground when he reaches the motorcycle. “Now, what are the rules?” he asks while he rummages around under the seat for their helmets.
Standing up straighter, Sage recites, “1) No moving around a lot. It can put the bike off-balance and that’s dangerous. 2) Hold on tight to the bike and Papa’s carrier straps. 3) No yelling at people at red lights.” She pauses, and Soul smirks at her. “What about #4, pup?”
With a matching smirk, she yells, “HAVE FUN!”
That’s my girl, he thinks proudly, attaching a sturdy harness to his chest so he can buckle Sage into him for extra security. He wheels his motorcycle out into the driveway, hoists her into the space on the seat in front of him to buckle her in, fastens their helmets (hers has a little gray shark fin on top, compliments of Wes), and they’re off.
Sage’s little snow-white pigtails flap behind her head, her gleeful shouts lost to the wind as the daddy-daughter duo weave their way through the back roads of Death City. Shibusen looms in front of them, giant, jutting candlesticks and tall spires bringing back memories of his journey together with Maka and the rest of Spartoi two decades ago. Now that Asura has been defeated and peace with the witches attained, classes look a lot different than they did in Soul’s day. With Kid in charge, the emphasis is less on turning kids into weapon duos and more on getting them to a stage they can safely control their powers. Once they turn 18, they can come back if they wish to develop their powers further as part of an elite world peacekeeping force.
Maka, being the ambitious and wickedly smart woman she is, immediately settled into a prestigious research position after things settled down following the battle on the moon. Not only has she gone on to build an entire research department from the ground up (focusing on the Black Blood and potential cures), but she also teaches introductory soul perception and advanced sparring in the scant free time she has. This busy schedule is what prompted Soul to offer to stay at home when Sage was born, since his position as a Death Scythe is mostly symbolic now that there aren’t many kishin left to hunt. He was, of course, nervous that he wouldn’t be a good enough father, wouldn’t know how to not raise a fucked up child, but it turns out he was just the guy for the job. He’s got the shark bite teething marks to prove it.
They pull into the parking lot and stow their helmets, Sage insistent on walking next to Soul 'like a big girl’ even though he can see the desire to ride his shoulders again dancing in her eyes. He humors her, though, stooping low to hold her hand as they walk into the building together. She might have his hair and teeth, but boy, does she have Maka’s height.
The demonstration is set to take place in one of Shibusen’s many amphitheaters, and they arrive just as everyone is settling down, whispers about, “She’s the one who wielded the Last Death Scythe!” and, “Man, I wish she’d throw me around!” swirling around them as they take their seats. Front row, as always.
“Papa, why do people want Mama to beat them up?” Sage whispers next to him, tugging on his sleeve with curious eyes.
“Buhhh, well, you see, pup,” he stutters, face flushing as memories of his and Maka’s last, ah, intimate time comes rushing back. “Mama’s just a really skilled fighter, and they’d be honored if she beat them,” he finishes, still sweating from his thoughts about the way her thighs immobilized his face like a vice.
“Oh, okay,” Sage hums, kicking her tiny feet off the edge of her seat. “Look Papa! There’s Mama!”
Soul turns his head to see his wife stride on stage and settle into position with a tight smile and a quick wave. He laughs to himself; she’s all business today, and he pities the fool who has to face her with that inferno in her eyes. Glancing at the other side of the stage, he realizes why Maka is so focused. Ayr, her co-teacher for one class of advanced sparring, is going to be her partner. He was the one who whined about having to teach a fighting class “with a girl,” as if somehow her gender erased the long list of achievements, and ass-kickery, she had accomplished. Oh well, Soul thinks gleefully. Time to watch a scrub be fed his own spine.
One of the students, presumably class rep by the air of self-importance in her tone, announces the start of the fight. The stage is a blur of swinging limbs and small grunts as hits land, but it’s a matter of minutes until Maka steps a leg behind his and shoves forward, neatly sweeping him to land with her forearm on his throat. “You noticed how Professor Ayr wasn’t watching his feet,” she says to the class. “Always be on the lookout for openings like that where you can easily control the flow of the fight. Remember, as long as you’re the one directing the movements, you can be a few steps ahead of your opponent.” Feral grin on her face, she turns back to Ayr and asks, “Again?” The man practically snarls his assent, and round two begins.
Soul barely has enough time to smother the smug look on his face before the round is over, a sharp elbow to the solar plexus plus back fist combo laying Ayr out flat. Her commentary continues for a moment before she offers round three to him, danger lurking behind jade eyes, and he accepts without registering it. Looks like I’ll be cleaning blood out of her laundry again, Soul thinks idly, squeezing Sage’s hand when she looks up at him excitedly. “Amazing, isn’t it?” he whispers to her. “Your Mama’s so…cool.”
The pattern continues for another brutal twenty minutes before Ayr gives up, unable to properly stand without the help of a student who Excalibur-cringes to his side. “Looks like that’ll be all, class!” she chirps, shrugging the wrinkles out of her clothing. “Use your extra time today to practice wrist control with a partner.” She waits until the amphitheatre is almost empty before walking over to Soul and Sage, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “Hi loves.”
“Hi Mama! You beat him up good!” Sage all but yells, hopping into Maka’s arms to kiss her cheeks and get a forehead smooch in return.
“Yes, I guess I did, huh?” Maka says casually, bending down to put Sage on the ground and kiss Soul softly on the lips. “How was your day?”
Remembering that he forgot to hide the Nerf guns, he gulps, “Uh, good! Very good. We played together, she had her nap, and here we are.”
Eyeing him suspiciously with that 'we’ll talk later’ look, she holds Sage’s hand and starts to leave the room. “All right, let’s go have our lunch then.”
“Picnic!” Sage chirps happily from next to Maka, and Soul lets himself bask in the hazy warmth that spreads across his body like a sunrise. This is happiness, he decides, at least one version of it. Despite the trials they faced in the past and the difficulties they’ll undoubtedly run into in the future, he knows now how important it is to live in the moment and let fear flow through and away from him. As Maka grabs his hand, sharing his contentment through their bond, he looks forward to witnessing the many ways they’ll grow together.
Fic thing. Dealers choice for fandom. "Why did he always have to make things so difficult?"
Maka glared at him through dripping bangs, towel in one hand and the other curled into a fist she was shaking at his face. “I swear to Death Soul, if you don’t give me my shirt back you won’t be able to sit right for a week.”
“That a promise?” he asked with a lazy grin, looking down at her from their almost foot and a half height difference.
With the speed and strength befitting a three star meister, Maka spun and pressed her back to his chest, shooting him a cheeky smile before throwing him bodily over her shoulder to land face down, ass up on the floor.
This is very loosely based off Ray Bradbury’s short story “All Summer in a Day” because reasons. It’s much happier, though. Enjoy! (AO3 / FF.net)
The sun never shined in the desert. She'd been told that's all it did once, long ago. But now there was nothing but rain. Days and nights and months and years of endless rain. The salt flats became a salt lake, the desert plants rotting and waterlogged.
All day, the meteorologists were abuzz on the radio. For the first time in seven years, the sun would finally make an appearance. They'd been promising for weeks, saying the atmospheric conditions were shifting, that the clouds would break and bright golden rays would pierce through, making the sand sparkle like diamond. Long-dormant flowers would spring open, gratefully soaking up the light and painting the world in a riot of color.
Tomorrow would be the day, and Maka could not tear herself away from the windows, not even to read. She was fourteen years old, and the sun had only shone twice in her life -- once days after she was born, and once when she was seven. She'd missed it when that witch Medusa locked her away in the closet as punishment for being too headstrong and asking too many questions.
Medusa didn't teach there anymore. Not since the other teachers found out about Crona.
Maka spread her fingers wide over the cool glass, watching the heat of her skin condense and leave a perfect print of her hand in its wake. Sid would probably scold her for leaving a mark, but it was her night on cleaning crew, anyway, so what did it matter? What did anything matter but seeing the sun?
Out of nowhere, a hand bonked her on the side of the head before its owner threw his arm around her shoulders.
"Whatcha doin', bookworm?" Black Star said, wiping a grubby finger over her handprint. "Supper's in five minutes. You can't eat ennui, so come join me for dumplings instead."
Maka shrugged him off. "I regret teaching you that word. I just don't want to miss it. Not even a minute."
Black Star playfully punched her bicep a shade too hard. Control had never been his strong suit. "You're not gonna miss it. If I have to reach up there and wrestle the bastard into submission to make sure you get your day in the light, I'll do it. Just watch."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're going to fight the sun now?"
He flexed. "If I gotta. It's just a basic yellow star, and you know I'm the biggest star."
Shaking her head, she pulled herself away from the window and walked down the hall toward the sound of the dinner chimes. "You ever heard of Icarus?" she said.
"Nope," he said, falling into step beside her. "Sounds like a foot fungus."
"Keep an eye on your wings, is what I mean," she said.
"Yadda yadda something wings. Race you to the servers!" He took off through the cafeteria door, pelting toward the line with such speed that she was certain he'd --
A resounding crash reached her from the other side of the room and she cringed, not at all jealous of the reprimands Black Star would be dealing with for the next week. She should probably give everyone a solid few minutes to calm down before she attempted to get her nightly meal.
She scanned the room, waving to Tsugumi and Meme before she spotted a boy slouched at a table in the corner by himself. He stretched out along the bench, back up against the wall, scratching something in a notebook. With a small smile, she made her way over.
"Scoot up," she said, and Soul pulled up his feet, his eyes never leaving his notebook as he worried the cap of a pen between his teeth.
Maka sat in the now-vacant bench seat. "Composing again?"
"Uhn," Soul grunted at her.
She folded her hands and waited patiently. Trying to get him to talk when he was in the middle of a brain wave never resulted in quality conversation, and it made him grumpy. It'd taken her a few months to learn that.
Soul was a transfer. He'd been at another institute, before, and he didn't like to talk about it, so she stopped asking. Two years ago, he showed up at Shibusen, sullen and alone, and they'd taken him in. Most of the students had been there all their lives, like Maka and Black Star. Soul was a new face, and a new face meant new stories.
Maka glanced around the room, twitching her foot. At last, Soul took the cap from his mouth and set his notebook on the table.
"You'll wear a hole in the floor," he grumbled.
In answer, she gently kicked at him under the table and stuck out her tongue. "You finish your meal already?" she said.
"Yeah. I wondered if you'd even be able to eat tonight."
She lowered her voice and leaned in closer, their arms nearly touching. "Tell me again?"
He gave a low laugh. "You've heard it a million times. Nothing's changed."
"Please," she said, making her eyes do the thing that always weakened his resolve.
It worked, and he sighed. "It's like a coin in the sky, big and bright," he said. "The air goes blue, more blue than you can imagine, and the clouds are soft and white instead of heavy and gray. It's so quiet without the rain falling everywhere, at least until everyone comes outside. Your skin warms up like you're sitting by a fire, but it's different. Like your body's drinking it up until it can't hold any more."
Maka closed her eyes and breathed in deep, trying to imagine it. She asked everyone for stories of the sun, but no one made her picture it better than Soul could.
"What does it smell like?" she whispered.
"Sweet," he said. "And warm. Like those berries hydroponics grows sometimes, but stronger and more... real."
She opened her eyes and turned her head. He'd sat up and leaned in closer to her while her eyes were closed, so they were only inches apart. Soul swallowed and looked down, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought she felt a little of that warmth he'd described.
Black Star plunked down in the seat across from them and dropped a plate in front of her with a clatter. Both she and Soul startled so badly they nearly toppled over backward.
"Damn it, Star," she spat at him.
Her honorary brother was already stuffing his face full of dumplings, but that didn't stop him from shifting his food to one cheek and garbling at her. "I brought you your dinner. You're welcome."
With a huff, she begrudgingly tucked in to her food. Soul and Black Star chatted and joked back and forth for most of the meal while she occasionally joined in when she wasn't eating. Soul's leg rested against hers under the table and she didn't think to move it.
After dinner, Black Star took off to meet Tsubaki for sparring practice while she and Soul did their chores, cleaning dishes and washing windows. She paused before wiping away the handprint she'd left earlier, staring out into the inky, rain-streaked night as if the sun might pop on like a light bulb.
"Tomorrow," Soul said softly.
"I know," she said. "I know."
He walked her to the dormitories and they paused outside the room she shared with Tsubaki. Sensing her nerves, Soul reached out and took her hand. It had become such a natural thing for them to do in the two years since he'd come that they barely noticed it anymore. They didn't have to ask what the other was thinking. They just knew.
"I'll come wake you at dawn," he said. "Promise."
She laughed, the sound high and tittering like a bird. "You never wake up at dawn. You barely wake up at noon."
"I will tomorrow," he said. "Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay."
He gave her hand a squeeze before letting go and slouching off to his own room. As Maka gathered her night things and ventured down the hall to the bathroom, she wondered if she'd be able to sleep at all.
Hours or seconds later, she woke with a start. None of the lights were on, and she heard Tsubaki's deep breathing nearby. The thinnest strip of gray-green beneath her door told her the day was coming soon. A knock sounded, a touch insistent, and she realized that's what had woken her.
In a flash, she rolled out of bed and whipped open the door. True to his word, Soul stood there, and he let out a snorting laugh and grinned when he saw her.
"Did you go to sleep fully clothed?" he asked.
"Of course I did," she said, breathless, as she craned her neck around him to check the windows, which were still depressingly dark gray. "If you think I'm wasting a second of sunshine, you're wrong."
"I figured," he said, holding up a toothbrush and a bottle of water for her, which she gratefully accepted. She brushed as they walked, her eyes continually darting to the windows.
The students gathered in the entry hall slowly over the next hour, their voices going from a gentle hum to a dull roar. Teachers strode among them, handing out precious sunscreen and lecturing everyone on its use, reminding them that their skin would be highly sensitive and burns could be dangerous. Maka thought it smelled like chemical-soaked bananas, but she didn't care.
As the morning stretched on, the chatter turned nervous.
"What if they predicted the wrong day?" Kilik whispered nearby.
"What if it doesn't come at all?" Harvar whispered back.
Maka's stomach twisted into knots as she pushed all such thoughts away. It would come. It had to come. She'd waited so long.
Soul put a hand on her shoulder and she gripped it.
Then, so imperceptibly that no one noticed at first, the voices began to die away. Perhaps it was the slightest change in the light, or a shift in the air. The hall went completely still, and Maka realized for the first time what this was: silence. True silence. As if all her life she'd been surrounded by static, and now the static disappeared.
The windows began to glow, and she held her breath.
The headmaster and her Papa threw the front doors open wide, and the students moved as a single body, filtering out the doors in wonder. The grayness of the morning shredded away, the clouds breaking up above their heads as they all turned skyward and saw, some for the very first time, strips of the purest blue.
Soul had been right. The world stood so still.
Then the last cloud burned away, and the sun spilled over the ground like liquid gold, sparking off the waterlogged sand and rushing toward them in the space of a heartbeat.
When it hit her skin, Maka gasped. No heat lamp, no fire, no blanket or touch could recreate this warmth. Her hair stood on end, her soul opening wide to drink in sundrops until it burst with joy.
From somewhere to her right, a bellowing whoop tore open the crowd's stupor and Black Star leapt eight stairs in a single bound. He hit the ground running, making for a field where the leaves and flowers were already unfurling into colors so bright it almost hurt to look at them.
In an instant, the crowd broke apart, laughter and howls shattering the quiet to a thousand pieces. Bodies moved like water all around them, parting like they were a rock in the middle of a river.
Then she and Soul were the only two people left standing at the entrance, eyes wide in wonder. In a true show of strength, Maka looked away from the light of life and straight into Soul's eyes. They glinted back at her.
"Ready for your day in the sun?" he said.
She nodded. It was all she could do.
And they walked, hand in hand, down the steps and into the light.
I cried to eisschirmchen about my Spirit Albarn feels and this happened...
Spirit sat idly on his couch as he stared at the clock sitting on the mantel before him. The tick, tock, tick, tock of it pounded against his ears while his nerves grew steadily closer and closer to the edge. He twiddled his thumbs, crossed and uncrossed his legs, and heavily sighed out in anticipation. It had been an hour since his daughter called to say they were coming over, but to him it felt like days had passed.
In reality, it had been days since Soul had text him the happy news. Days had passed of Spirit imagining what the new addition to the Albarn-Evans family looked like, who they resembled the most. If the baby had hair like him or Maka or Soul. All the questions had passed through his mind since his daughter had announced her pregnancy only a few months earlier, and they had crossed again in the last week.
He was ready for this moment.
Really, he was.
Fidgeting on the couch once again, Spirit checked his phone for the hundredth time, but there were no new messages. No missed calls, nothing. He thought about turning on the tv to distract himself for a while, but knew that was hopeless. The only thing the electronic was good for these days was background noise. It didn’t help to drown out his busy, busy mind from the countless thoughts of his grandchild. He had spent more hours than he’d admit watching tv shows involving kids than anything else. By this point, he was ready to see his grandchild for the first time.
Or so he thought.
The doorbell buzzed twice, and Spirit practically leapt to the door to open it. He felt his mouth widen upon seeing his daughter holding a car seat covered with a blanket. Her own smile was warm and sweet as she grinned up at him. Soul stood behind her with his hands stuffed in his pocket and a typical smirk on his face.
“Hi, Papa,” Maka said. “May we come in?”
Spirit excitedly shook his head as he stepped aside to allow them inside, trying to get a peek at the baby as Maka passed by. Soul and Maka stepped into the living room and waited for him to join them. After closing the door, Spirit rubbed his hands together, felt his heart race, and walked over to them.
“Papa,” Maka began, “I’d like you to meet your new granddaughter, Emma.”
She set down the car seat, bent down, pulled back the blanket, and cradled the little baby inside in her arms. Spirit gasped as he saw Emma’s adorable face. His granddaughter wore the pink onesie he had bought for her months ago with yellow ducks all over it, and her hands were covered with mittens so she didn’t scratch herself. She squirmed around in Maka’s arms, upset at being woken up, as Spirit took her in his own.
Gazing down at Emma, he felt tears well up behind his eyes and his heart stopped for a millisecond. She was so beautiful and fragile. It reminded Spirit of the first time he had held Maka after she was born. Emma had the same button nose that his daughter had, the same chubby cheeks, and chin. Blonde hair peeked out behind the hat she was wearing. When she opened her eyes, Spirit noticed that they were a light blue -- typical of newborns.
“She’s so beautiful,” Spirit whispered.
“Please don’t cry,” Maka said, her voice wishful. “I don’t think I can handle another grown man crying over her.”
Spirit smiled and looked at Soul. “You cried?”
“Pfft, no.”
“Yeah, you did. You cried when the nurse put her in your arms,” Maka said, nudging her husband in the ribs.
“Shuddup,” Soul grumbled. Spirit’s smile grew and his son-in-law glared at him. “Don’t be so proud, old man. I can see the tears in your eyes.”
He was right, of course. Spirit is no stronger than Soul when it came to the new life that he held in his arms, but that was typical of anyone. Especially that of a dad or grandpa. It felt like the world was at peace, that everything good in the world was in his arms. The girl turned woman he had helped create and raised had made another human being with her own husband, and now Spirit was holding her. Nothing made him happier.
Spirit burst into tears in no time and hugged the little baby to his chest while Maka sighed and shook her head. Soul laughed at him, but it didn’t matter. He had a grandchild, and he was going to do everything in his power to be the best grandpa ever.
Pulling Maka over toward with one hand, Spirit kissed her forehead and rubbed his face on hers as he congratulated her over and over. When he was done, he looked over at Soul and mouthed, “Good job,” giving him a thumbs up as well. Soul blushed at his father-in-law’s gesture, but smiled nonetheless.
Happy Birthday makapedia! As promised, I have delivered the most ridiculous thing I have written to date. Precanon fluff, Soul is way too into neopets.
The word ‘partnership’ is still a little foreign in Maka’s mouth, as is her own cooking, which is not particularly stellar. Everyone had told her that she should stay in the dorms until she was a little older, but given the choice between living in the same building as her father, and living as far away as possible, with a boy no less, she’d pick the latter. The choice seemed obvious at the time.
She decides very quickly that domesticity is not for her, and especially not with a boy who she barely knows. Soul is moody, to say the least, though if asked in confidence she’ll admit that cranky is a more fitting descriptor. She’s twelve years old, and trying to work out the kinks of cohabitating with another human who won’t put up with her bullshit, but who also is unable to tell her what to do. It’s a steep learning curve for the both of them, and three months into the school year she’s relieved that Soul is going to visit his parents for Christmas.
She leans in his doorway watching him pack; he’s haphazard and messy, and it’s amusing watching him try to sit on his suitcase as he tries to pack one too many pairs of colored skinny jeans.
“How’s the packing going?” she asks casually.
“Fine.” His voice yo-yo’s between a growl and a squeak, a constant source of hilarity for her, though it might also just be her inner vindictiveness over his offhand comments about her chest. She’s a late bloomer, damnit! She hopes anyway.
“Fine? I don’t get you, and your one word answers, Soul.”
“Did you want a whole speech on how the packing is going? It’s going fine.”
“I mean in general though.”
“...”
She sighs, frustrated with his silence, and his standoffishness. “I don’t know how you expect us to be friends and resonate soul’s and all that if you won’t talk to me.”
“You don’t think we’re friends?” He pushes his dumb hair out of the way looks up at her. She squints back at him, still a little put off, and a little drawn in, by his wine dark eyes.
“You barely talk to me, and when you do, it’s to say something rude.”
“I thought you thought it was funny.”
“Ugh.” Maka rolls her eyes and stomps into the kitchen to make cocoa. “You’re so weird -- we’ll figure it out when you get back. What time is your flight?”
“I think nine, so I’m going to get up early and try to be there at eight.”
“Well, I’m gonna watch some T.V --I guess you can join me when you’re done packing,” she yells from the kitchen before sprawling out on the couch.
“Am I not welcome in my own living room?”
“I just said you could come.”
She turns on the cooking channel with some hopes of learning how to make something that isn’t toast, or pasta, but gets a little lost when they start whipping out kitchen utensils she’s sure she’s never seen before. Whoever decided it was reasonable to let pre-teens live on their own anyway?
Soul comes slouching out of his room about twenty minutes later, laptop and oversized headphones in tow. He glares at her until she swings her legs off the couch, leaving a respectable distance, before sitting down, turning his laptop just out her view, and plugging in his headphones. She can hear faint music playing, some upbeat and repetitive tune. Either Soul has reached a new level of hipsterdom, or he’s listening to something catchy ironically.
“What are you even doing over there?” She scowls at him and he turns his screen a little further away.
“None of your business.”
“You’re always on your laptop! I wanna know what you’re doing?” She tries to lean over but he abruptly slams the screen shut.
“Geez, you’re so nosy.”
“I wouldn’t have to be so nosy if you weren’t so secretive.”
“I actually, uh, have a favor to ask you.” Soul slowly opens his laptop again -- Maka cranes her neck over to see the screen but he still keeps it turned away.
“Well? Spit it out then.”
“Can you take care of my neopets for me, when I’m gone?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, neopets, the game?”
“Oh I know the game,” Maka scoffs, “I was quite the expert when I was, you know, eight. Don’t you think you’re a little old for that?”
“Wes still plays!” Soul counters defensively, and it dawns on her that Soul might not actually know exactly how uncool this is. She doesn’t quite have the heart to tell him it’s likely that Wes is humoring him, and being a good brother, and not actually interested in maintaining and painting online animals, so she agrees and asks exactly what this care will entail.
“Well then.” Soul’s voice takes on a new tone of enthusiasm that Maka has yet to experience. “You have to collect all the dailies -- I have them all in this bookmark folder though so don’t worry about finding them.”
Maka catches a glimpse of his userpage and winces inwardly at the slurry of black and red glitter graphics and personality quiz results; she never needed to know what paint brush, petpet, and potion Soul is. But if this is what she has to put up with to make a death scythe, she will be strong.
“Oh wow, that one is just like a shark,” she comments. It must be some rare color, certainly not one that she ever achieved in her younger days, before she started doing grownup things, because she’s a grownup, damnit.
“It’s a Maraquan Grarrl,” he corrects her sullenly.
“Well it looks like a shark.”
“I like sharks.”
“Your brethren,” she mutters under her breath.
“What other pets do you have?” she asks purely out of curiosity and not because she is interested at all.
“Oh, well, I have a Darigan Scorchio.”
“Darigan, very fancy.”
“They’re evil, very cool.”
“So cool,” she reassures him, because he looks stricken and she has learned in the past couple months that ‘cool’ is the highest compliment in Soul’s vocabulary, and that he is oddly desperate for her approval. “Wait, you have a Draik!? Aren’t those really expensive?”
“A Pirate Draik.” Soul beams with a sense of pride that can only be described as adorable.
“Pirates are very cool,” she admits, without admitting that she may have some original fiction about pirates squirreled away in her room. That’s a monster to address another day, along with the poetry -- he certainly doesn’t need to know about that yet. “Anyway, dailies, bookmarked, anything else?”
“Well, it’s December, so you have to remember to collect the advent calendar prize, and then you should feed them also if they’re hungry. I can show you how if you want.”
“I think I can figure it out,” Maka stops him before he can go into a full tutorial. “I think we both should go to bed.”
“Yeah probably.”
Maka stands up first, because her preteen weapon partner asking her to help with his online game is about the geekiest and most awkward situation she can think of, and he had the nerve to call her a nerd!
“Goodnight, Soul,” she says from her doorway.
“‘Night,” he returns, “and Maka?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
---
Soul has been gone for approximately four hours when the first text message arrives.
[hey did you get the advent calendar prize?]
Of course she hasn’t, because she’s been studying and cleaning the apartment, doing real life things. She responds to his text to tell him to lay off when the next one comes.
[i just want to know what the prize is]
[fine, fine, i’m doing it now calm down] Maka shoots of her response and goes to open up Soul’s page for the first time. It’s bright and colorful and calming, and the animation is kind of fun -- she can at least see the appeal of it, for children of course. But she follows along his extensive list of daily activities and texts him back the results. Of course she forgets to collect his interest so he has to remind her of her shortcomings via rapid paced text messages.
Well, she had completed her duties for the day, but the apartment was eerily quiet without Soul clattering around with too large feet clumsily bumping into things like a puppy that hasn’t gotten used to its body yet. There are about twenty books she hasn’t gotten around to looking at yet but she somehow ends up reading through some plot comic on neopets. Who even knew there were plots to play on neopets? What an extensive website, it’s ridiculous.
Somehow six hours later she hasn’t eaten dinner yet and has been fending off the need to pee for who knows how long. She discovers the neopets newspaper, the neopian times, and archives. There are pages and pages of archives full of things to read and suddenly she’s invested in stories about neopets. Is this fanfiction? Has she sunk so low? She immediately clears the browser history on Soul’s laptop and slams the top shut.
She wakes up the next morning to a series of texts from Soul, firstly forgetting the time difference and berating her for not being up yet, and second of all reminding her to feed his pets, and not poison jelly or any gross foods because his babies can’t get sick. The advent calendar awards her some dumb looking clothing so she takes the liberty of playing dress up with his Scorchio because the stupid Grarll, SharkyShark13, apparently can’t wear clothes. Damn do those look stupid. a little digging turns up some clothes that don’t look too ridiculous, but they cost real life money. Jesus, who would spend actual money on Neopets? Not Soul, at least he wasn’t that far gone. Then again, she hadn’t gotten him a Christmas present yet. Soul better appreciate how cool his pets are going to look when he gets home cuz xXCoolGuyXx is getting a makeover.
---
A week of downward spiraling into flash game hell and Soul returns. Very few pleasantries are exchanged about the trip (Soul is unbelievably close lipped about his family) before he dives onto his account to examine his loot.
“I uh, got you a present,” Maka mumbles, shuffling her feet.
“You put clothes on CoolGuy?”
“I thought they looked cool, do they not look cool?”
“They look cool,” he admits and continues scrolling through his inventory, silent for a few minutes. “Maka, did you uh, play some games?”
“No, of course not,” she denies quickly. She had deleted the browser history very meticulously so all of the regular pages were here, just not her shameful reading material and repeated games of Meerca Chase.
“There’s a lot more points in my account from before.” Caught.
“That’s just from your dailies and everything,” she tries to cover for herself, but it’s hopeless.
“You texted me all of the prizes, it doesn’t add up, you were totally playing games.”
“Nope.”
“You can deny it all you want, but I know, you can’t make fun of me anymore.”
“I wasn’t making fun of you before.”
“You were judging me, I could tell.”
“Well, you’re kind of old to be playing neopets.”
“Says the girl who spent the last week playing enough games to make me an extra hundred thousand neopoints.” Shit, had it really been that much? “You know, I could set you up with your own account.”
“Oh, I don’t need that, I was just bored.” More like lonely.
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and settles down to play games while Maka watches on longingly, but she is strong; she won’t get sucked into his childish pastime.
She stalks into her room and makes her own account, naming her pets after the characters in her work in progress pirate romance novel. If her some other fifteen year old can get a book published then she certainly can too. Account nicely set up, she retreats back to her comically violent, but child friendly games. Her fast reflex fingers twitch for action.
But moments later, her laptop speakers betray her. Last thing she’d used her own computer for was blasting techno while cleaning the kitchen so now the upbeat tune of dodging scoops of icecream comes out without a care towards her dignity. Soul whips his way into her room with record speed before she can say Chia.
“Aha!” he shouts, voice cracking comically, though Maka is too stricken to laugh. “You were playing!”
“You did it first.”
“Just admit that it’s fun and I’ll buy you a paint brush.”
Cute winged Kacheeks dance in front of her eyes; she caves. “I’m just playing cuz it’s nostalgic, don’t look at me like that.” A rare shit eating grin sprawls across her partner’s face. He knows -- she’s totally hopelessly trapped in the web of colorful graphics and smarmy virtual pets. There’s no turning back, but this secret must be taken to the grave.
Of course! :D Happy birthday, I hope everything goes well in the year and that it was a good one!
…………………………………….
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Souuuuuuul.”
“WHY MAKA?”
“Because it’s fun!”
“It’s fun getting covered in sand and then still finding it in your butthole three years later?”
Maka leaned back, eyebrow raised skeptically. “Three years?”
“Maka!”
“Three years? Really?”
Soul squawked indignantly and floundered for a retort, during which she stole the headphones around his neck and hopped away, out of reach of his grabbing hands. “Seriously Maka?”
“I’ll only give them back when you come to the beach with us,” she answered smugly, standing at the door to her room as he stood up to face her better.
Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Soul agreed, “Fine, if I must.” Taking back his headphones from her open hand, he settled into the couch, grumbling about beaches and sand and the weather and sarcastic remarks and Maka and essentially everything else he could think of, including how she didn’t even need to take the headphones to get him to go, though he was quieter about that bit.
Alternatively…..
Maka raced across the sand, growling with frustration as the umbrella bounced out of her reach each time she got near it. Each footstep sank her into the sand, burning her feet as the sun beat down upon her shoulders. Stopping for a second to catch her breath, hands on her knees, Maka face hung down with the shame that the wind had gotten the best of her, even though she had basically run almost the entire length of the beach at this point.
“Uh… I think this is yours?”
The girl looked up in surprise, blonde pigtails swinging as she took in the guy standing before her, blushing and holding her umbrella.
“Thanks,” she said, grinning. “I’m Maka.”
“I’m Soul,” the man answered, shuffling his feet awkwardly before holding out her umbrella. “Here you go.”
Taking it, Maka swallowed her slight disappointment and started turning to go back to where Tsu and Liz were. “Would you like to go for a drink sometime?”
Soul’s jaw dropped open with shock while Maka burned bright red through her sunburn, embarrassed beyond belief. “Um, yeah, I really would,” he stammered. “Meet me at the bar in the Sunrise Hotel tomorrow night then?”
“Is eight good?”
“Yeah,” replied Soul dazedly, turning to go back to his friends and waving at her shyly as he left.
Waving back, Maka ignored her blushing and grinned as she jogged across the sand back to her friends.
"We take a dance class together and out next routine calls for partner work, and we got put together-STop standing on my foot!" AU for soma please and thank you :)
“Now you move- I SWEAR IF YOU STEP ON MY FOOT ONE MORE TIME I’M GOING TO CHOP IT OFF SOUL EVANS!”
“It’s not my fault you have no idea what you’re doing!”
“And that leads to you stepping on my feet how exactly?” Maka demanded, annoyed at how bruised her toes were clearly going to be in the dancing shoes.
“You’re always at the wrong place at the wrong time! Stop trying to lead!”
“Oh, so you don’t think I can-”
“It has nothing to do with what I think, but what this dance is supposed to be!” retorted Soul angrily.
Huffing in frustration, Maka challenged, “Fine then. Go ahead. Lead if you think you’ll be so much better at it.”
“I will be,” he answered snarkily, taking Maka’s hand again and guiding her across the dance floor, steps sure and confident despite the stormy look on his face.
As the song finished and their classmates clapped with awe, Maka glared at him. “That. Means. Nothing.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Soul replied smoothly, a smirk fighting its way onto his face.
Growling, Maka stomped away from him so that another duo could get their turn, ignoring the way her stomach had fluttered during the one time their routine had gone right.
Already did strikhedonia here so I’m just doing quidnunc. Thanks for the prompt nonnie!
Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on.
………………………………………………
“Makaaaaaaaaa.”
Rolling her eyes and the whine, she turned towards Liz and asked exasperatedly, pretending she didn’t know what her fellow blonde was going to ask, “What Liz? Do you need help on a problem?”
The taller girl leveled her a look that expressly stated, “Are you kidding me?”
Maka feigned ignorance and growled, “If you’re not gonna say anything, then why do you keep calling my name?” Maybe if she pretended she didn’t know, then Liz would spare her? Maybe?
The other girl glared at her and ordered, “We are going to Deathbucks after school and you are going to tell us everything.”
“Who is we?”
“Me, you, and Tsubaki of course,” Liz answered, pulling out a nail file and ignoring Maka’s protests.
Face in hands, Maka turned around with a sigh of defeat, knowing she would just have to stand strong that afternoon and hope to weather the storm.
.
“Well? What happened?”
“When?”
“Last Friday at the dance!”
“Um, we came, we danced, and then we left? Just like everybody else?” Maka said quizzically, growing unnerved by Liz’s doggedness in this interrogation.
Even Tsu was starting to give Maka an annoyed look, worrying the girl. If she didn’t have Tsubaki on her side, Liz would be free to wheedle her for hours, if not days.
Growling, Liz sat back and glared at Maka, causing the girl’s metaphorical teeth to grow bared. Why was this any of their business anyway?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and since I have to do homework and study, I’m gonna to home.” Striding out of the cafe, Maka ignored Tsu’s pleas for peace and Liz’s haughty frown, stomping all the way home.
As she threw open the door, Soul called from the living room, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Sighing, Maka leaned into the offered hug, cheek resting on her partner’s chest. “Liz feels like she needs to know everything, and it’s really frustrating when she doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Soul’s arms pulled tighter around the blonde, comforting in their familiarity. “We can tell them if you want to, or is dating me really that bad-”
“No! That’s not it!” she vehemently protested, eyes wide with worry as she looked up at Soul. Sighing, she pressed her forehead against his chest and said, “I just don’t feel ready yet, y’know?”
He grunted in agreement, the air startled by the beeping oven. Glancing over his shoulder, Maka saw a small cake ready for them. “Soul…” she breathed happily, hugging him tightly, “thank you.”
