I do not own Soul Eater or Flappy Bird. Rated T for language and innuendo. This started as a way to fix writers block and evolved. Enjoy!

THE EXCEPTION CLAUSE
by Lisp.

She never backs down from a fight. Everybody knows it. He knows it, and that's why his face was set in a smug little grin when he told her it was impossible. That was the wrong word to use. Nothing is impossible, not for her. She'll show him.

She'll show all of them! Maka thinks angrily as she tries to keep her balance. The train ride is never pleasant when she has to stand, but she can't keep her seat when there's an elderly woman and a man with a broken leg in the already jam-packed car. Damn her sense of morality. She resorts to clenching the pole and channelling her frustration into it, ignoring the fact that it's probably covered in germs and traces of the flu virus that has taken this part of the city by storm. She doesn't care about getting sick right now. She doesn't care about the way she's nearly fallen four times now since she moved to stand. All she cares about is being able to wipe that smug grin off of his face.

Black*Star knows just how to push her buttons, and Elizabeth Thompson never lets an opportunity to gossip and interfere with others' love lives pass her by. When the two are partnered with the devious antics of the younger Patricia Thompson, no force in Hell can stop them. So when Liz had enquired into Maka's love life during her last visit to Los Angeles in front of the blue-haired idiot, it had taken the force of his girlfriend Tsubaki's threats to call the police to stop an all-out murder scene occurring. Black*Star had openly laughed in the ash-blonde's face, saying that there was 'no way a flat little nerd like her could even get a guy's number!'

She'll prove him wrong. She has to. Her dignity is riding on this, and her goals have all changed because of that one little sentence.

"I bet you can't get a boyfriend before we all come to visit you in a month."

Maka kicks at the pole, ignoring the strange looks she gets from the man standing on the opposite side. How dare that stupid megalomaniac idiot say that to her? Even as she seethes at the sting to his words and curses her best friend for ever choosing such an idiot to date, she can't help but feel a little bit sour at herself, too. After all, despite the way Black*Star had worded her current relationship – or lack thereof – predicament, she can't exactly say he is a liar.

She hasn't had a boyfriend since she started university two and a half years ago. She had a few in high school, the most recent in her senior year. Hiiro had been his name, and for a little while it had seemed like they were in a good place. She'd believed their relationship was progressing well until she went to the bathroom on the night of the prom and found him holding the head cheerleader against the wall while their tongues engaged in what could only be described as an intense, slobbery battle. While he'd re-zipped the fly of his dress pants, she'd raised her foot and kicked him right in the family jewels, officially communicating that it was over. Since then, she's been flying solo and enjoying it, thank you very much.

She has this issue with men.

It's a perfectly rational issue, in her eyes, seeing as they're all cheating bastards. Her female friends have tried to coax her out of her prejudiced frame of mind, but she views it as her being observant and them being naive, and ignores their pleas for her to just give the male species a chance. She's given them more than one, and after the first one was blown by her father on too many occasions to count during her dysfunctional, divorce-filled childhood, it's been a downward spiral. She's seen countless girls crying in school or campus bathrooms, she's lived through her mother leaving, and she's caused a testicle-retrieval operation due to her own experiences. It's always the same thing. Men tell one woman they love them, tell another woman they want them. They lie, they cheat; they're the scum of the Earth. It's pretty simple, in her eyes. And if she can't trust a guy to keep it in his pants, she can't trust him to hold onto her heart.

That's why she wants to become a lawyer, the best one Nevada and soon California's ever seen. Her mother before her was a highly-renowned one, and she intends to surpass the legacy and ensure she can milk worthless men like Spirit Albarn during divorce proceedings of every single penny to their name.

While she doesn't feel sorrowful at her lack of romantic experience, her so-called friends often call her out on it. They worry that she gets lonely. She smirks slightly at the stupid thought. If she'd ever been truly loved, she might miss the experience. But her father still forgets her birthday in favour of the nearest set of breasts, and she knows her last few boyfriends have either changed their minds about her or gotten attached to someone else. She's never truly felt any man's love, and how can she miss something she's never had? As for the physical contact, she has bigger things to worry about. Law school isn't exactly a cakewalk and she balances her work at the bookstore with her schooling and almost non-existent social life quite well. She doesn't have many true friends in 'Death City', or so she's dubbed her new place of living – they're all back in Los Angeles. There are only a few people in this city, where she'd come to make her living as a lawyer, who even know more than her name, let alone care about her. There's only one who she can say the same about with respect to her. She visits all of her old companions once every few months – using her stupid father's money as her own form of revenge – and they visit her at least once a year to see how she's doing and ensure she isn't allowing her solitude to prevent her from eating properly or spending money on necessary things rather than books and films.

They really have such faith in her, these people.

They'll be coming to visit her in one week, fuelling her rage. Because no matter how determined she may be to prove Black*Star wrong and how insistent she is that she isn't lonely . . . she hasn't got a boyfriend since she saw them all last. She doesn't even have anything closer to one.

Stupid Black*Star. Stupid Liz. Stupid old women and people with broken legs. Stupid train.

She's still fuming when she gets off the train, and her anger is so great that she doesn't notice the vendor on the street until she runs right into him, getting hot dog all over her bag and mustard all over her hands.

Great.

"You look like shit."

Seeing as her friends are going to get here tomorrow and she'd missed the train this morning - making her arrive to her classes late and get the superiority complex lecture from Hell from Ox, the snotty over-achieving and jealous attorney-to-be - she's not really surprised. The bet seems like a hopeless case now and she's gone from trying to find someone to call a romantic interest to simply sitting at home, uncaring on the teasing she'll receive and depressed that although she hates them, she couldn't get one guy's attention when she frequented the coffee shops throughout the afternoons for the week. She even went to a club last night in a desperate attempt to find someone decent, but after an hour of receiving nothing but lewd stares and two hotel key cards with accompanying winks, she hid them under the bar where the owners would surely lose them and left in disgust.

She isn't cut out for this, and she's done. Tired of everyone and everything, and wishing for nothing more than the ability to crawl into a hole and avoid their friends for the whole visit. Maybe if she suddenly slips into a coma . . .

"Hey. Earth to Albarn." Someone tugs on her pigtail, and she swats away the hand, annoyed. Maka is rewarded with a snort and she hears the faint sound of a Styrofoam cup being banged down in front of her, smelling the delicious scent of frappe.

Maybe the world isn't so bad after all . . . not so long as coffee exists.

She takes up the drink and sips gratefully. "Thanks, I needed that. How did you know?"

"Well, for starters, you looked like more of a zombie than that professor with the skin condition. It was a pretty good indicator," Soul Evans says smoothly as he takes a bite from his muffin. "Plus, there was a free muffin with coffees today at Deathbucks, so don't get too grateful and imagine I actually did something for the benefit of another human being besides myself. I thought you knew me better than that."

She merely grins and takes another sip.

There is an exception to every rule, and Soul Evans is the exception to her 'men are all terrible' standard. She's known him for about a year, since he transferred here to complete his own university education and musical degree, and he's probably the only person in this godforsaken city she actually enjoys the company of. Well, apart from the times when she deems it necessary to pull out one of her legal textbooks and chop his brains out for being a complete and utter idiot, anyway. He has an odd philosophy where he hates everyone, and she can't really say she's that different. They're mutually insufferable, so their personalities operate well enough together.

Their acquaintance began when she accidentally ran into the back of his motorbike and ended up spraining her arm from tripping over. He'd laughed until he'd cried and she'd knocked him unconscious with her good arm, and the trip to the hospital had somehow ended up with them forming an unlikely bond of tolerance. She saw him around the campus sometimes and they tended to eat lunch at the same place, so they'd fallen into the habit of criticising the world together, and living quite comfortably with the arrangement. Maka smiles slightly to herself when thinking about it.

Maybe she hadn't been truthful to herself on the train. She may not have a boyfriend and she may not have any sort of romantic life, but she has Soul. And sometimes, she almost lets herself forget just how much she distrusts men, because he despises cheaters and seems to understand her just as well if not better than her friends in Los Angeles.

Almost. But he is something she can never have. He's teased her about her appearance enough times to have the message come through clearly that he isn't interested. She isn't, either. Maka isn't in the habit of chasing after people or pining over things.

She certainly doesn't have a crush on Soul Evans. She just hates him a little less than she does the rest of the world.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, with her studying and him having a mini meltdown at Flappy Bird on his iPhone, before he notices she's been reading the same page for the last ten minutes without making a single note. "Seriously, what's got you in such a bad mood?" he asks.

She contemplates the humility of telling him her full predicament and decides to streamline it a bit. "My friends are all visiting from Los Angeles tomorrow and . . . they're pretty big personalities, to say the least."

"Ugh. Other people."

"Tell me about it," she sighs. She turns the Styrofoam cup around in her hands for a few seconds. He'll laugh the second she mentions it, but Maka wants to complain to someone about Black*Star's stupid bet. Soul knows how much she hates the male species, so he'll probably understand her reluctance to enter into a relationship of any kind, and she doesn't need to mention all of her failed attempts to get a guy within the last week. Her pride is a force to be reckoned with, but maybe he'll be able to help her come up with a solution. At the very least, she knows he'll help stage a murder to get her out of it. "And . . . I might have lost a bet to Black*Star."

He puts down his game, cringing on her behalf. He knows who Black*Star is, of course – the rants she performs about him hold him between humour and pity for the poor idiot's skull. "Tough. Was it bad, or?"

" . . . He bet that I couldn't get a boyfriend in the space between my visit to Los Angeles a month ago and their visit here tomorrow. And guess who's still single?"

She expects him to laugh, really. Who wouldn't? At her age, it's kind of pathetic to not be able to pick up a single guy within the space of a month. It isn't like she's completely socially retarded, and she isn't that bad looking, although she's awful plain with her loose, comfortable shirts and skirts or tights. She used to wear school uniforms religiously, but now whatever feels the most like pyjamas while still being somewhat socially acceptable is her first choice. She knows that Black*Star's challenge wasn't that difficult, and Soul has every right to be grinning himself stupid right now. After all, he's the one that says she'll never get married with her bad attitude and lack of social interaction.

Like he's one to talk – but somehow, his loner-like tendencies make him popular. Girls swoon over his 'mysterious' personality, thinking he has some sort of deep side and just shies away from people. Maka knows he's just an introverted asshole, but she won't pop their bubbles.

But if Soul is such an asshole, he would be laughing at her mercilessly. And he surprisingly isn't. Instead, his brow furrows. "Why the Hell would you make a bet like that? Doesn't everyone know you hate guys too much to date one? What kind of friend would set you up with something like that when it'd make you so uncomfortable?"

She blinks twice, staring at him. Where had that come from? He'd completely skipped past all the expected bullshit and somehow turned her pathetic circumstance into something where she was the victim of other people's insensitivity, all in one sentence.

He really does seem to be determined to achieve the exception to the rule in every way possible.

"Technically, it was my fault, I guess," she admits after a brief pause and sidelong glance from him. "Liz – that's the pretty blonde I told you about – asked about my love life," and she has to snort at the question before she can continue, "and the blue-haired idiot made a comment. I shouldn't have taken the bait."

Soul scoffs and shakes his head. "Yeah, but you're a proud idiot, aren't you?"

Her wonder at him disappears in an instant and she whacks him over the head with the case study she's working on. "Shut up, dumbass! Anyway, they're all going to get here tomorrow and then Black*Star's going to give me Hell."

"What's his reward if you do lose?" he asks warily, rubbing his head.

She flinches, wishing he hadn't asked. She's done well keeping it out of her head until now. "If I don't have a boyfriend then I have to go on a date with a guy he knows who lives in Death City." When Soul asks who, curious and seemingly irritated for some reason, she sighs and drops her head. "Let's just say he refers to himself as 'Excalibur.'"

"As in, the sword?"

"Yep."

" . . . O-kay. And by referring to the sword, I assume he's talking about his di-"

"Yep."

He pats her shoulder awkwardly yet sympathetically. "What're you gonna' do? Fake a body?"

"I'm actually seriously considering it," she mutters, smiling bitterly. It's funny how his mind is on the same wavelength as hers. They're like this often, with either one having surprisingly insightful outlooks on the others' issues or offering just the right words to make the other feel better.

That's part of the reason she's sure he's the only guy she'd ever consider actually dating. Not like she wants to date him, but still. If she were going to ask a person out – Heaven forbid the day she does – to win this bet, and actually see them afterwards, it would be him. He's insufferable, but she's used to it. Besides, he's been hit by her textbooks more times than she can count and yet he's still buying her frappes, and that shows some level of dedication.

And that's when the plan hits her. It's stupid and she should definitely not put it to use. But she feels like the Grinch should be narrating her mind at this very moment:

'Then Maka Albarn got an idea! An awful idea! Maka Albarn got a wonderful, awful idea!'

She clears her throat and turns to him, thoughts of Excalibur's obnoxious personality and his stories about his 'legends' clearing away all of her trepidation at asking something like this. She doesn't want to do it, but she's desperate, and his sympathy has given her an idea. "Hey, Soul? You remember that fifty dollars you owe me for helping you repaint your bike?"

"Yeah?" he asks distractedly, noticing the sudden subject change and the tone her voice has taken on. He knows from experience that nothing good ever comes from this tone of voice.

His fears are confirmed by her next words.

"I think I know how you're going to pay me back."

It should be noted that Black*Star cannot go anywhere without making a scene. This includes when he arrives in a seemingly quiet airport and consequentially has to be escorted out of said airport by the security for disruption. Maka shakes her head, muttering strings of curses under her breath as she wheels one of Liz's huge suitcases for her. The Thompsons are planning to take a trip to New York once they have their day-long stay here with Liz's rich fiancé paying for it all, so they've naturally packed more than could fit in the ash-blonde's tiny wardrobe. Thankfully, that's all this will be – one day of visits. Black*Star is going to Japan with Tsubaki for the year anniversary of her brother's funeral, so the whole group settled on this time to pop in and intrude on her comfortable, almost hermit-like life.

But she isn't nearly as negative about their presence as she was yesterday. Because now, she has a plan. Black*Star is going to eat his words. Her ire at hyperactive boy's antics aside, she is cheery. Her friends seem worried about it, shooting her sidelong glances. Although she truly does care about all of them and enjoys going back to Los Angeles to see them, it's no secret that she prefers her space in Death City. There has to be something making her this bubbly.

The girls' minds instantly flit to romantic assumptions. Kid, Liz's fiancé, is trying to control his OCD in regards to the asymmetry of her pigtails. Black*Star is too busy chattering to Tsubaki about his 'awesome display of skill on that dumbass airport security bastard' to notice.

When they reach her small apartment building on 42nd, she lets them into number 564 with less complaints than usual and the confusion of the others rises. It's not like Maka isn't usually a cheerful person . . . but Black*Star tends to have this effect on her, and as he's always there when they gather as friends, she doesn't usually last this long without trying to punch his lights out.

This has got to be some kind of record.

Cake and pleasantries are exchanged, although there are few new developments to their social lives due to the month-long period of separation. Patti has been receiving the attentions of a particularly handsome if not slightly bumbling guy; Liz is excited to shop until she drops in New York and she and Kid are going to look at symmetrical settings. Maka pities the elder Thompson in that aspect – while she is excited for the wedding, it will be incredibly stressful to plan due to her fiancé's obsessive compulsive tendencies.

They last for twenty minutes before Black*Star cannot contain himself any longer. He leans back on the loveseat, his arm purposely around Tsubaki's shoulders, and arranges a shit-eating grin onto his face that instantly sets Maka's teeth on edge. She needs to remember that she has the upper hand here, but his superiority is so annoying. How she could be friends with him from childhood and how her best friend could stand to date him for such a long time is beyond her.

"Well, Maka-Baka," he says smugly, drawing out the syllables in the long-hated nickname. "Ready to admit defeat yet?"

She blinks a few times, playing dumb. "What are you talking about?"

The grin widens as he says with an air of victory, "Surely you haven't forgotten our bet, have you? I believe you owe Excalibur a date. I'll make sure to call him and tell him you're looking forward to the five-hour story telling party."

Show time.

Maka puts on a tone of hesitance. "Well . . . about that. There's something I need to tell you guys."

"And what is that?" he replies, taking the bait. Liz sits forward interestedly, making Kid smirk. Tsubaki is doing better at concealing her curiosity, and Patti is momentarily distracted by the cake. "We're dying to hear you admit defeat."

"So – did you find a guy?" The older blonde can't contain her excitement any longer. One would think it's her love life Maka's talking about. She sincerely hopes all brides-to-be aren't as enthusiastic about others' affairs as this, because she suspects Black*Star may pull his head out of his ass soon and she'll be playing Tsubaki's maid of honour. Speaking of Black*Star . . .

Still keeping up the act, Maka shyly says, "I might have – lied to you when I said I wasn't seeing anyone last month."

Three things happen at once.

Tsubaki's jaw drops, Liz has to help Patti to spit out the cake she's choking on, and Black*Star looks like he's just been punched in the round tables.

"What . . . what are you saying? You mean you've been d-dating someone behind our backs?" the Japanese girl manages after a pause, sounding equally awed and hurt. She looks sure that her best friend has been replaced by an alien or she's a paid actor and this is all an elaborate hoax. "Who? For how long?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Liz screeches.

Black*Star is shaking his head. "I call bullshit."

Maka contains her glee at their reactions and bows her head, fiddling with her hands to look nervous. Apart from Tsubaki, she feels no guilt at blatantly lying to them like this. If they want to keep jabbing at her lack of relationships, they should rethink. Maka Albarn never loses, whether it is at mock trial or coming out on top of derogatory comments. "It's true," she mutters. "I've been – I've been with this guy for about five months now, and we've known each other for a year. His name is Soul."

"Wait – Soul as in Soul Evans? That music-grad hottie you mentioned to us from your school?"

"Yeah, Liz. Him. It's been a quiet relationship, it's complicated. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but we didn't want anyone to know . . ."

Before anyone can get in another word, Black*Star stands up with his arms crossed. He has narrowed eyes and is still shaking his head. "I don't believe you. You're totally makin' this shit up to win the bet! I know you guys are just friends!"

Her mouth dries instantly, but she's quick to retaliate. Her impromptu courts skills are not for naught. "I'm being completely serious," she says with just the right amount of humility and hurt. "That's why I got so mad at you last month when you said I could never get a boyfriend. I wanted to tell you all but I couldn't."

"You were just fuckin' mad 'coz I called you a flat chest!"

"Black*Star!" Tsubaki scolds, but Maka is well used to his language and crude comments. She does not bat an eyelid.

Kid rubs Liz's back soothingly to try and pacify her, as the blonde woman is becoming increasingly more shocked at the fact that one of her friends would have a developed relationship without her hearing of it. "Five – five whole months," she whispered. "Five months."

Just as the barrage of questions is about to begin, the much-awaited knock on Maka's door sounds and she can't hide her smile this time. Although she is nervous in regards to how he will act, she knows he's going to go through with this to some degree.

After all, he promised her, and unlike with every other guy, she actually believes him when he says he'll do something. Even if his promise was coerced from him after five solid minutes of laughing at the proposition and ten minutes of repeatedly asking if she was 'actually freakin' serious.'

As predicted, the door opens and there stands Soul Evans in all his glory. Her smile slips off her face for a second, because he looks different. Whenever she sees him, it's in his heavy leather jacket and he's usually got some sort of Deathbucks product in his hand. He's usually tired and she's exhausted from the combined efforts of school, study and work. They've both been at school all day and that leaves them in the mood to just sit back and not really take in each other's presence.

But outside of Shibusen University, he looks different to say the least. Seeing him in her doorway proves that.

He's wearing a loose fitting black muscle singlet with a white band logo on the front, and dark jeans with a chain looping from one pocket. His sneakers match his shirt and due to his pale hair, his odd burgundy eyes stand out so much more. He gives her a warm grin that looks so wildly out of place on his face that she freezes momentarily, unsure on how to react to how her heart starts to increase tempo.

"Uh, sorry. I forgot you were having people over . . . Did I leave my jacket here yesterday?" he asks, and the line comes out so easily that she seriously considers jumping up and telling him to switch from a Bachelor in Music Studies and Artists Degree to a professional acting course.

She remembers her own role just in time. "Oh, hi Soul. I haven't seen it, but it might be around somewhere?" She turns to her friends, seeing their expectant gazes. "These are my friends from Los Angeles. Guys, this is – my boyfriend."

Damn, she'd nearly said it without her voice cracking.

"Hey," he says, coming over easily.

Black*Star appears to be seconds from passing out.

Tsubaki is unsurprisingly the first to regain her countenance. "Hello, I'm Tsubaki Nakatsukasa and this is my boyfriend, Black*Star." She glances at the near-comatose man and turns back with a nervous smile quickly.

"I'm Elizabeth Thompson," Liz says rather archly, extending her left hand. Soul shakes it, trying to keep himself from smirking or glancing at Maka too much. "That's my younger sister Patti, there."

"Hi!" Patti exclaims brightly, oblivious to the tension in the room. Kid coughs out a chuckle disguised as a sneeze before introducing himself rather formally.

Before Soul can continue to 'search for his jacket', Black*Star springs to life again like a magical jack-in-the-box, sitting ramrod straight and eyeing the albino. "So, how long have you and Maka been together then, Soul?" He still clearly doesn't buy the story.

"Five months, bordering six. We've been friends for about a year though, since I transferred." The words roll off his tongue with unbelievable ease and he moves to sit beside Maka with his arm thrown casually over her side of the couch. The girls all smile knowingly despite the situation and the blue-haired man narrows his eyes.

His interrogation is apparently not satisfied. "Why've you been keeping it secret, then?"

"Well, my parents are really aristocratic and my brother's in the process of getting married at the moment, and they've been really strict on the idea of me marrying into a privileged family. We thought it'd be better to keep things quiet."

It takes all her practice as a lawyer-to-be with a schooled courtroom expression to not turn to him and ask how he's nailing this so perfectly on the head. They hadn't thought up a back story for this yet, and if he's winging it, he's a master. Is what he's saying a modified truth, or?

"Humph. And have you and Maka done it yet, then?"

Thankfully they are saved from this question by an impressive elbow-to-the-ribs manoeuvre by Tsubaki, who attempts to steer the conversation into friendlier waters. She enquires about his musical studies, and although he answers her with a light tone, Maka can tell he isn't enjoying talking about himself so much. She wonders why, but then remembers that he hates people in general and is so much of an introvert that this level of participation in her scheme seems border-line impossible. He must really want to help her if he's willing to do this much.

The thought makes her blush more than the feeling of his hand brushing her shoulder.

Why is she reacting in this way? This is an arranged relationship, a ploy to make a certain idiot suck it. She shouldn't be enjoying this. She should be waiting for it to all be over. She shouldn't be noticing Soul's reactions to things and she shouldn't be able to tell what is characteristic of him and what isn't.

How has she gotten into this level already?

As her friends continue to talk with him, interested in this new source of information on their dear little bookworm nerd, his answers get better and more creative. When he is asked about how they first met, he tells the true story but adds in little romantic twists which have Tsubaki swooning and her fighting to keep a demented mix between a scowl and a giant grin from her lips.

"Right when she was about to knock me out, I looked at her angry face and thought two things. One, I was completely screwed," he jokes causing Kid to laugh and Black*Star to grin empathetically, "and two, she was actually really cute when she was angry."

As Liz smiles and looks at the two with love hearts honest-to-God bursting from her eyes, Maka blushes heavily and elbows him. "Don't overdo it," she mutters, sounding to her friends like a reproachful yet adoring girlfriend. Soul knows what she's really saying, but he merely smiles and elbows her back. His eyes say, 'You brought me into this. Prepare to live out Hell, Albarn.'

She is going to owe him so many rounds of free Deathbucks.

And, when he and Black*Star get into an argument about basketball teams and end up deciding to bet one hundred dollars on the next game between the Lakers and the Death City Killers, maybe she'll even end up owing him a new motorbike at this rate.

And a life of slavery, because apparently Kid has just noticed the logo on Soul's shirt is perfectly symmetrical, and things are about to go to shit.

When she closes the door on Black*Star's yelling voice, she physically slumps down it and puts her head on her knees, breathing deeply. It's over. She made it. They've all been and gone, and they completely buy her story.

Soul looks up from his spot on her couch and grins at her exhausted form, but he looks tired too. "Fuck having friends as energetic as that all the time. Kilik's a pretty chill dude and Harvar barely ever talks, so I have it good compared to you."

"Kilik has two infant children in his care and you like Harvar because he doesn't like anyone or anything except his cousin. Stupid Ox . . ."

"Not true," he counters. "He was totally chatting up that Jackie chick from the Chemistry lab the other day. Well, chatting as much as he can, anyway."

Maka perks up at that. "Really? I don't mind Jackie, even if she does like experimenting with fire a little much . . . But aren't she and Kim an on-again, off-again thing?"

"Yeah, but aren't Ox and Kim too? Hell, I don't know."

"That's because you'd have to talk to people to be able to know things."

He comes and sits down beside her, and she pauses in the moment of how nice it feels to just have him this comfortable and near to her. It shouldn't feel right at all, but she's completely okay with it.

Soul has amazed her in so many ways today. Sure, they were partners in cynicism and pretty solid friends before, but now . . . It's like she's seen a whole different side of him, and not just because he was faking his entire back story.

" . . . Thanks for today," she manages after a few moments.

He turns and gives her that smile she's starting to get eerily fond of and accustomed to, and amazes her yet again. "It's cool. You know, it really wasn't that bad pretending to be your boyfriend for a day."

"Yeah, it wasn't that bad, hey? But you were a bit of a sap. I'm 'cute when I'm angry'?" she asks sceptically, joking.

He nods. "Kinda, yeah."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well then . . . I meant when I said I thought your leather jacket was hot."

" . . . Really?"

"Really."

When he leans forward to kiss her first, she thinks of her papa and his cheating ways. She thinks of Hiiro smashed against the cheerleader in the dark bathroom hallway. She thinks of every prejudice she's ever had, every reason why it's a bad idea to let their lips meet, and why she doesn't want to kiss him because she doesn't want or need a boyfriend no matter what Black*Star says.

She can't think of a single good reason to stop him, or any reason at all to stop herself from moving forward to answer with pressure from her own mouth. And when it deepens and his arms press her against him, her hands twining in his hair, she can't help but smile against his lips.

He really is her exception to the rule. And when they're finished, he's going to get the Maka Chop from Hell.

But that can wait.

He breaks away from her for a few moments to catch his breath, and before she can say anything, mutters, "By the way. What was Black*Star's punishment if he lost the bet?"

"Well," she laughs, feeling slightly giddy and eyeing his lips as she prepares to join them again, "let's just say I bet he's going to have fun asking a guy out, and if he can't get a date by the end of the month, Excalibur has the five-hour story telling party ready."

"You're horrible."

"So are you."

"And don't you forget it."

She just doesn't hate him like she does the rest of the world.

So, that was my first AU.

I'll update my other projects soon and get around to Personal Messages, I swear!
Hopefully the formatting worked for this because my uploading isn't working properly and everything keeps not-working. Ugh.