This is, perhaps, the first of many (hopefully?) oneshots set in my InFamous AU. I plan to dive into this world to create a grander story, but for now I'll settle for this. It fuels my muse. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater or InFamous.

When Soul walks up to her door, beaten and bloody, he knows he's fucked.

The door opens, and all he hears is glass shattering and a sharp gasp. He sputters out an apology, for the broken glass and his pitiful state, but Maka silences him with a finger to his lips. Silence, she wants, and he delivers. He isn't a man of many words, anyway.

Then, instead of the familiar medical textbook splitting his head in two, small hands pull him inside. The glass shards are quickly abandoned in favor of him.

Well, so far so good, he thinks.

"Bed. Now," she says, and he tucks tail and shuffles over to her bedside. I'm a good boy, he thinks. A good listener, too. Maybe she'll throw him a bone tonight.

"Sit," she commands, and he obeys, sinking into the soft padding and tangling himself in the pile of blankets she left in a muddle.

Soft to the touch, he thinks, like her skin. Too bad every time he touches her it ends in a shock or burn.

"Jacket and shirt off," she says.

He looks down at his leather jacket and says, voice rough like gravel, "Can you spare it?"

She usually threw his battered clothes away. His armor in war. This jacket, though, means something to him. He can't let it go. It's torn to shreds but he'll cry like a newborn baby if it's tossed in the trash. Not cool, he knows, but it's precious to him.

Wes gave it to him, and that's all he'll say on the matter.

She sighs and peels the jacket off of his shoulders. The blood is starting to dry already, and he winces as leather and cotton rip off of hiocs marred skin like duct tape. He starts bleeding

"I'll see what I can do," she says. "But I'll make no promises."

He nods, grunting out his thanks, and bites his lip hard when she works on his shirt next. Blood and cotton are nearly fused together at this point, but Maka manages just fine. He, on the other hand, has to try with all his might not to start bawling. He manages, like her, but just barely.

The shirt dunks in the trash can and she turns to face him, drinking in all his scars and all his blood. It doesn't phase her; it never does. She'll dress up his wounds and send him back out into the city like the soldier he is, fighting a war not worth fighting for. She will not bat an eye, but he knows that on the inside she is sobbing. On the outside, she is cold as ice.

Oh, the irony.

She stuffs a towel in his mouthーfor the pain, she saysーand gets to work. With no painkillers, he bites holes in it. The whiskey is setting his wounds ablazeーmust be vodka, he thinks. Liz used to say the strong stuff hurt like hell going down, but that was the beauty in it. He sees no beauty now, just feels the hellfire.

"You can't keep playing this game," Maka whispers as she pieces him back together. "Sooner or later, you'll end up on Stein's table."

He wants to say his piece, argue his side, but the towel stops him dead in his tracks.

"The Reapers will have their way with you one day," she says. "Those fiends will chew you up and spit you back out. And I'll be the one that has to pick you back up…if there's anything left."

The ice is starting to thaw, he realizes. Though the burning, numbing sensation he feels from her fingers brushing against the gash on his hip says otherwise.

"You can't be so reckless, Soul. I can't lose you, you hear me? Keep your head down and bite your tongue. Please, for me?"

She is asking him to let Death City burn under The Reapers' feet, something he can't allow, and something she knows he can't either. She doesn't want Death City to die. She hates The Reapers as much as him, if not more. She believes in the cause but frets over him, the man that fights for it.

She finishes and he spits out the towel.

"I won't stop fighting, Maka. Not till I'm dead."

"Where does that leave me, then?" she asks, frowning. "Alone with my boyfriend stuck in the dirt?"

"S'not my fault you stopped fighting," he says, and regret hits him hard in the gut as soon as the words fly out of his mouth.

"I c-couldn't keep fighting. When Mama got sick," she pauses, a small sob wracking her tiny frame, and shakes her head. "Y'know what, fuck you."

Before she can walk away, he grabs her from behind and pulls her to his chest, hands wrapped around her middle.

"Didn't mean it," he mumbles into the small of her back. "M'sorry."

She slouches and falls into his lap and says, with a long, drawn-out sigh, "I know."

He rests his chin on her shoulder and mumbles, "You're cold."

She laughs. "No shit."

He chuckles and lifts his chin up before the frostbite settles. "We're a mess, huh?"

"A mess of electricity and ice."

He hums in agreement. "Sounds about right."

"I'm serious, though, Soul," she says, concern lacing her tone. "I don't want you getting hurt like this all the time. I don't know how much more I can take."

He sighs and scratches at the stubble on his chin. "If I hang up my cape for a couple weeks, will that make you happy?"

She looks up at him. "No early retirement?"

"Maka," he warns.

She puffs out her cheeks, eyes staring harshly into his. "Fine, I'll take what I can get. But, for my sake, take it easy in the long run. Or I'll turn you into a block of ice and lock you in my freezer."

The thought sends chills up his spine and he shivers. "I guess it's a deal, Snow Queen. Pretty sure I wouldn't fit in your freezer, though."

She smiles up at him. "I'll manage."

The look in her eyes invites him in and locks the door, throwing away the key. It's in this moment that he kisses her, wanting to express so much in the little time that he has. It can only be a quick kiss, though. Sadly, he has to draw the line once his lips start to turn blue. Not to mention the sparks that start flying and crackling in her mouth, compliments of himーElectro Man.

She breaks it and grins despite the pain. "You seem excited."

"Sorry, can't help it. You really plug me in."

She rolls her eyes and sinks into him. "Save your sense of humor for the morning."

"Sleep?" he asks.

"Sleep," she says, and like a good boy, he listens.

Outside The Reapers run amok, but inside he finds her warmth and love. It's the only thing that keeps his light from burning out, and he'll protect it with his life.

If she burns out, he'll burn out with her.

But, for now, he hears the screams, the gunshots, and the beat of her heart, and it lulls him to sleep. His cacophonic lullaby set to rest with each breath she takes.

Death City and The Reapers are hell but she is home, and he'll always go back to her, beaten and bloody as he may be.

One day, though, Soul plans to show up on her doorstep as clean as a whistle with a small box in his pocket, promising a brighter future worth fighting for.

Thanks for reading! I recommend checking out the game InFamous, it's amazing. Reviews are appreciated! Might fuel my muse to keep the oneshots coming :)