I tried out the sentence in front of the mirror, sure that Soul was definitely indisposed by Black Star and that it would be only for my own ears, my own heart. "I want to have a baby."

My own frustrated groan was the only reply from the empty room.

I could say it over and over if I wanted, but did that mean it was the truth? I cried all that morning when I found out it wasn't happening. I cried in front of him as I admitted it, and admitted that I had really actually thought it was happening. I cried intermittently all of the two weeks we had been home after the vacation. Half of that time I could blame it on something like PMS, but for the rest of it…

I was overwhelmed, that had to be it. We'd gotten engaged and were now in the process of telling each person who it would matter to; Spirit being the worst of them all because he just had to try to pick a fight with Soul about the permission that he didn't give. Thankfully, Soul wasn't in the mood to take the bait, or at the very least he resisted the urge. Thanks to Soul's better man behavior, Spirit had to cave and congratulate.

The wedding was a whole other issue. There had never been some childhood set vision in my mind of a floofy, white dress that floated down the altar. As I admitted before to Soul, it was never even something I had fathomed, let alone planned. And somehow settling into being a parent had seemed less intimidating than having a giant party designed to please everyone but ourselves.

"I want to have a baby," I repeated, sitting roughly on the bed and feeling it resist as it sent me on an extra bounce.

What was the alternative? Eloping or maybe just getting married on paper and ignoring any of that societally dictated insanity or get a pretty dress and have an extravagant party. Was there an in-between? Which one could we leave Spirit out of? Just kidding. Maybe that was the decision I or should say we should come to first. And with that, I brought myself back to shedding a few tears.

I had just laid down to let the tears run their course but instead fell asleep, only awakening as his hand cleared the hair from my face. "Maka, time to get up."

"What time is it?" I sat up slowly and he moved to take the space my upper body left behind.

"About 3." His fingers fussed over my hair again before moving to my face as if he were smoothing away the pillow wrinkles. "You OK? You're not exactly a napper."

"You seem to enjoy them so much I thought I'd try it out." I put my hand over his, pulling it to my lap to stop it's overly busy bothering.

Soul didn't even bother to laugh, instead, something closer to a sigh slipped from his lips. "Seriously, Maka, I'm worried."

"I'm not getting cold feet if that's what you're worried about." I smiled but he didn't, his mouth tightening in a frown.

"Don't even joke about that." He feathered his lips against mine, his other hand coming up to rub at my cheek with his thumb.

"Sorry." I lingered over another kiss before slowly standing, his hands slowly relenting and letting my body move away from him. I started to stretch my back, trying to indirectly watch him in the mirror as he sat on the bed and tried to decide what to do with his newly freed hands. "I promise I'm OK, just thinking too much."

Those scarlet eyes didn't buy what I said for a second, narrowing at me as he leaned forward, his elbows coming to his knees. He let his hand rub over his mouth before letting slip under his chin. "You're getting close to pissing me off, Maka."

"To be honest, I'm pissing myself off." That at least brought a half-smile to his face but it disappeared quickly under his hand, those eyes still pierced into me. I pressed into the edge of the desk and pulled myself up on it, swinging my legs. "OK, which part do you want?"

"Obviously all of it," he grumbled.

My inhale seemed impossibly deep, more than my diaphragm could possibly take, but I made ready for my tongue to refuse the words, to crumble now that he was right in front of me. "I want to have a baby." My body practically jolted at the surprise of the words, but he didn't seem phased just staring the same as before.

I waited for anything from him before another deep breath and the jumbled words came rushing out. "I want you to be my husband, but what would we do for a wedding since I have no clue what I'd even want? Do we elope? Do we just sign a paper and forget about the rest? Do you even have an opinion other than what I assume is going to be it's whatever you want, Maka? Do we just wait and see how I feel whenever I feel it? Do we just hire someone else to plan it so that I don't even have to think or feel about it?" I could have gone on and on but I bit my tongue, holding the other deluge of circular questions.

The room was so quiet I swore I could hear his heartbeat. He moved his hand away from his mouth, sitting up straight on the bed, taking one more second to let his eyes wander over me as if he was evaluating. "I wouldn't say it's whatever you want since I guess I'd definitely prefer something that didn't require inviting half of Death City but I always thought that's not what you'd want anyway." He huffed, running his fingers through his hair. "I kinda liked the idea of you in a fancy dress, though, but I don't think that needs to be a wedding. I mean, I usually end up wanting to take that stuff off you, anyway."

That scandalous grin he had now made my eyes roll in spite of all emotional mishmash. "That's not helping."

"It's not hurting, either," Soul shrugged. "So we elope. Or we don't do it at all. You just can't stress yourself to the point where you're sleeping all day because that's not what matters." He stood up from the bed, rushing over to me to grip my shoulders as if he were going to shake me. "I asked you, I gave you that ring because it just meant you knew for sure that I was committed. I'm done. I don't need anyone else or anything else. That's what that meant to me."

I couldn't let go of the lamenting thought, "I don't know what I want."

"Maka…" He gave my shoulders a squeeze. "It's only been a few weeks. You don't have to know anything other than you're sure you want to be my wife." That word seemed so alien coming from his mouth, but the goofy smile that tugged at his lips melted it into my heart right then.

"OK, that I do know."

"Do me a favor and say it." That stupid grin was almost too large for his face.

"I'm going to be your wife, Soul."

"Yeah," he cooed as he slid his hands from my shoulders to cup my face. Our lips met, this time far from feathery and light, Soul breaking through my lips with his tongue, searching my mouth. I was almost convinced he was about to start the process of taking my clothes off when he stopped, pulling away slowly. "The last thing."

"What?" I was in a daze, heated and dizzy from his kiss.

"Maka, I need that book."

"What?" My eyes fluttered open to his, trying to make sense of the progression of his thoughts. "I thought we agreed that we were going to think about it. So, I want that book."

I couldn't possibly say what again, but it was my first instinct. It took me another moment before my brain seemed to switch back from lusty to logical. "The baby book?"

"I just… I think we both need to think about it. Give it a little more time." Soul nuzzled his nose to mine. "But I want to read it."

Soul had never in my entire time of knowing him been a reader. Death knows I'd tried before, anything from Fitzgerald to King, but none of it entranced him in a way that kept him consistently turning a page. I had always just assumed he wasn't built that way and that was fine. It just meant that all our shelf space was mine.

The month after I fished the book out from underneath the bedspring was then the strangest on record. At every turn, I would find him pouring over a page, progressing slowly but surely from start to finish. It was by no means a quick endeavor, but that seemed more to be because he studied every nook and cranny of that book, possibly rereading pages along the way, flipping back for reference. If only he had put this much attention into studying at DWMA.

His face seemed to evolve every time he read, too. I could usually identify when he reached the worst parts, his face growing pale and that look as if he was going to hurl blessing his features. I was proud of him, never once actually losing his lunch to the medical diagrams or horrifying descriptions of what happens to the female anatomy during the glory of pregnancy and childbirth. I had to admit that even some parts made me queasy, made me worry about my own internal integrity.

When we had hit three weeks without him finishing, I felt myself starting to hover, paying more attention to his page number, how fast it took him to scan a page. It was agonizing, but in a way, it took my concentration off the million other questions that had been plaguing me since our initial conversation. It was just that one thought that had started to snowball from the moment we'd had our trial run, we'd had our chance. I was carrying it with me because the more I waited for him the more my mind seemed to pose it as less of a question.

So when I was late getting back one night, giving my own version of a Stein-style lesson to some newbie DWMA students, I was surprised to find the book still on the coffee table, Soul lounging with his head back on the couch, eyes closed. The usual volume for his jazz seemed long forgotten and it felt like the notes were pumping through my veins. I threw my bag on the lounge chair before moving to the stereo, turning the dial to a more respectable level. "Soul?"

His head popped up, those red eyes focusing on me as if I were hard to see. "Sit down." He didn't motion next to him but to the chair adjacent that he'd angled in such a way that it made me feel like I was about to be interviewed.

"OK." I really wanted a shower and maybe something to eat but it didn't seem like a request.

"Give me a second." He stood slowly, stretching a little as if he'd been in that position for hours just waiting for me. He disappeared into the hallway and I heard him fumbling around the kitchen, dishes clinking and maybe a curse or two. When he returned it was with a mug in one hand and a plate in the other. The plate was definitely for me, stacked with delights ranging from mini cheesecake to chocolate-covered strawberries.

I greedily accepted the plate, letting him put the mug on the table, filled to the brim with what smelled like chamomile. "Thank you…" I tried not to make my voice raise to question it.

"I'm bribing you." Soul sunk back into the couch with a sigh. "I feel like I'm going to say a bunch of wrong stuff and I know doing that on an empty stomach would spell death."

"Wise man." I tried to help him out by popping something that looked like a mini tart in my mouth, smiling contently as the lemony flavor spread across my tongue.

"I think I'm safe after two more," he smiled softly, his hand running through his hair in his usual attempt to satiate his own anxiety.

I could tell he was really just buying time, but I humored him, slowly chewing through two more of the treats before putting the plate back on the table, letting the cup take its place in my hands. "OK, I think I'm completely persuaded."

"You say that now," he sighed and let a thick pause fall between us. "I finished the book."

"And?" I felt like I was holding my breath.

"Why you ever even wanted to agree to have a baby is beyond me." He jabbed a finger into the cover. "I know you read about the same weird shit I did, Maka."

He had been smart to give me the sweets first. "Some of it can be a little…" I shrugged, searching for the words in the steam of my tea.

"Gross feels like an understatement." Soul leaned back into the couch, letting that hand absently slide through his hair again. "And a million things could go wrong, right? Both with the baby and with you. I mean, I know the odds aren't high but there seems like there are so many options when it comes to bad shit."

"I'm hearing a lot of bad," I murmured over the edge of my cup.

"Here." Soul grabbed one of the mini cheesecakes, bringing it slowly to my lips, giving me no choice but to eat it. Once chewing, he returned to his rehearsed points. "And forget your current job. You could keep teaching at DWMA, but no more missions. I'm already borderline insanely protective of you."

I nodded through my chewing, examining a point I'd actually never even given a passing thought to. I'd have to go full-time teacher. Marie had bossed Stein into letting her fight but I couldn't imagine getting the same leverage with Soul.

"So here I am queasy for you, worried about you, and above all scared shitless that I could lose you." He couldn't sit anymore, launching to his feet in order to pace anxiously along the couch. "And it feels like I just got you, you know? It's only been what, not even three years of dating? And then you die not because of some epic battle like the Kishin but because I wanted something that could grow up to hate me in twenty years?"

"Slow down, Soul." I put the mug down and grabbed at him on his next revolution in front of the couch, trying to pull him towards me but only getting his feet to stay in one place.

"I know, I know," he murmured. "But nobody hurts my meister, my Maka, you know?" Soul squeezed my hand before moving to kneel in front of the chair. It was a strange position but so oddly sweet, his head resting against my knees, his arms wrapped around my calves. "But the worst part of it all is there's this selfish part of me that doesn't care about the consequences. I want it. I want to have this perfect little Maka copy running around that I get the lucky deal of loving from the beginning."

I ran my fingers through his hair, laughing, "Who says it's just going to be a copy of me?"

"We both wouldn't survive another me." His laugh was a warm breath against my legs. "And you're the cuter one, anyway." His arms squeezed a little more, his cheek moving more towards my lap as if searching for comfort there. "But then you have to think about when. You can't do a baby and a wedding at the same time, Maka. I won't let you. You stress out enough as it is."

While I didn't necessarily like the tone of I won't let you, I could at least agree with the sentiment. "True."

There was a pause, a deep breath before, "Did you make a decision about the wedding stuff?"

"No." I absently ran my fingers through his hair again. "I've been thinking about this instead."

"This feels more important to you?" He raised his head as if he needed to see my face for the answer to this question.

"It's more life-altering." I let my hand fall from his hair to his cheek, rubbing my thumb there. "But, did you make a decision about the baby stuff?"

He huffed, "I thought it was pretty clear. I want it, Maka, but we need to have an order. How are we doing this? Traditional or a jumbled mess?"

"When are we not a jumbled mess?"

EPILOGUE

Soul had jinxed them for sure, all his hopes and dreams for a tiny little Maka clone trounced with their firstborn, a complete carbon copy of Soul himself, with a grumbling grumpy old man attitude from day one. Regardless of the decimation of his wishes, when Soul held his son for the first time he was sure that he could never love anything so much, or love Maka so much for doing most of the heavy lifting of bringing him into the world. Crona had been a suggested name, but Maka had nixed it, the implication that the other person was usually dead in these situations paining her. They settled on Victor, named for no one in particular.

Somewhere around the time Victor turned one, Soul had come home with wedding bands, the whole idea of a wedding not really a discussion between them anymore. This was what they'd been waiting for, the fluidity of their lives not dictated by pomp and circumstance. It was about a week later that Maka realized, accidentally, that Victor wasn't going to be an only child. Neither of them really seemed to mind.

The universe has a sense of humor and blessed the two with another little boy, this time with the verdant, bright eyes of his mother and the pale complexion of his father. They named him Jack, a name easy and level just like he was as a baby. Much better behaved than Victor, that was for sure. Their first son may be the picture of his father, but he certainly had Maka's spontaneity.

And while Maka clearly thought him out of his mind, Soul begged for a third. He was already focused on the reality that they would just have another boy, perhaps even a red-head like Spirit because that, of course, would skip a generation to irk Soul, but he was willing to hold his breath. With vows that this would be the last, absolutely no opportunities after that, Maka became pregnant with their third just as Victor turned five.

Victor was at a good age for jealousy, already suffering from the split attention of his parents with Jack, but much to everyone's surprise that little bit of Soul personality blossomed in him, that intense drive for protection. Suddenly, he was Jack's and Maka's watchdog, not even allowing the slightest bump or scrape of their precious little heads. Maka found it almost humorous to watch her husband and her eldest vie for who was the best at taking care of the family.

Soul's face was always filled with a special kind of rapture at the birth of each one of his sons, but when Maka handed him his only daughter, with delicate blond locks of hair at her temples and big green eyes, she thought for sure he might burst at the seams. Lyra, their gentle musical soul, the final piece of the happiest melody in their lives.

And while trials and tribulations were always abound since no meister and weapon lived an easy life, Maka and Soul had everything they could ever hope for, especially each other.