Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

i've got a love that keeps me waiting
by. Poisoned Scarlett

She grabs her shirt and shoves it violently into the stream, washing out the soap with rough, long, strokes. She lifts the shirt out and twists it until no more water drips from it before extending it and placing it with the others on the hot boulder that sits beside her. She grabs more clothing, her scrubbing becoming fiercer and fiercer as the man she wishes to forget for just a few minutes forces himself back into her thoughts like he always does.

Stupid Soul. Stupid, stupid, stupid Soul! Stupid females, stupid pack duties, stupid Soul, stupid sun, stupid wind, stupid water, stupid Soul, stupid, stupid, stupid! Maka washes her shirts with more rigor, her anger radiating off her in dangerous waves. She hears twigs crack and she turns sharply, unintentionally glaring at Kim, one of the two healers in their pack, who blinks and sighs because she already knows what happened without needing to hear the story.

"When you're done sulking, come fetch me! I want to wash my laundry before the sun sets!"

"I am not sulking!"

Kim sends her a knowing look. Maka opens her mouth to argue but sighs instead, nodding begrudgingly. She goes back to her scrubbing and Kim frowns, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hey! Can you two just kiss and make up already? He's causing a fuss!"

"What? Why me?" Maka whips her head to her. "He was the one who started it!"

Kim gives her a candid look.

Maka's cheeks flush. "H-he did!" She can't help but to think just how childish that sounds, pinning the blame on him as if they were children. "I-I'll talk to him later..."

"Alright," Kim rolls her eyes, knowing them well-enough to know they will reconcile in a few hours, and turns on her heel to head back to where everyone else was. It's until she can't hear Kim anymore, until she can't even catch her scent in the wind, that Maka exhales noisily and scowls down at her laundry load. Now she had to be the adult and apologize! Half of her didn't want to, wanted to continue being a child and continue being angry at him, but she knew better. Besides, Maka thinks with a sense of smugness, she can hang this over his head the next time he called her names!

She squints when she finds an unfamiliar shirt hidden under layers of her clothes and she ends up tugging out one of Soul's shirts, of all things. All thoughts of acting like an adult clear her mind and her eye twitches. How many times has she told him not to mix their laundry? He did it on purpose, Maka steams, because he just loves pain, that masochistic idiot! She throws the shirt into the river and hopes it gets dragged away by the currents. But, before it can, Maka snatches it back and starts to wash it while cursing him under her breath.

Who the hell did Soul think he was? If anyone needed to act like an adult, it was him! He was older than her, he's been in the pack longer, too! He knows better or at least he should know better! What the hell was so damn attractive about those – those things, anyway? To Maka, they looked like liabilities. Bad for running fast, making everything they wore accidentally inappropriate. But it was an all-together different story for him...

"Who'd ever go for a flat-chest like you?"

"ARGH! Who'd want a - a bastard for a partner anyway!" Maka shouts in frustration and rips his shirt out of the river, water slapping her scrunched face. She wrings out the water as his words run through her mind over and over like a broken record. Stupid Soul and his stupid cocky-self and those stupid, stupid females with their big breasts and dainty laughs and full figures and everything…everything he apparently wanted in a partner.

Maka's fury drains at those last few words, her shoulders slumping in solemn defeat. She looks at the shirt wearily. Great, she stretched it out in her rage. She halfheartedly hopes Soul won't make too much of a big deal out of it. He's never been materialistic but he does take particular care in his shirts. She wrings the water out with more care this time and tosses it with the others, then grabs a dress and starts the process over again.

Doing the laundry has always helped her manage her fury when it came to the platinum-blonde wolf. The insensitive wolf, more like it. He was always saying stuff like that – bookworm, flat-chest, bossy, hopeless – and he was always growling how she'd never find a partner if she didn't cool her jets every once and awhile. He was always, always saying that to her. Stupid wolf, what did he know? Maka grumbles to herself, shoulders slumping more and more. But, really, what did she know?

She's still considered new to this life. She's only been apart of this new family for a year. She was still learning new things! There was always something new to learn from the pack, always something new to learn about herself. Like only last week she discovered that if she concentrated enough, she could isolate her phasing into certain body parts – like, say, her hands if she needed claws or her ears if she needed that extra push in her hearing. She'd been trying it out around Soul until he jeeringly said she should phase into bigger boobs – then she promptly chopped him with her hand and regretted nothing when he shouted that she missed and got his nose instead.

Maka drops her eyes down to her breasts reluctantly, tentatively reaching out to poke one. They weren't small but they weren't as big as all the others girls in the pack. They were, Maka hesitates, decent for her body type, only because she'd always had an athletic build. She was more active: ate a lot, burned off all the calories and then some in one day. The other girls, they were more sedentary, and Maka guesses genes had a play in all of this for her own mama hadn't been all that gifted in the chest department…

Maka sighs.

Was she really going to mope over the fact that she didn't have a big rack? Yes, yes she was. Maka continues to wash her clothes, sulking and trying to forget about everything that happened that morning. They had been arguing (arguing loudly again), then he said that at least he'd already chosen out who he was going to partner up with and she needed to get with the program. So their argument escalated until she was calling him names and, to make a long story short, she knocked him out cold and stormed away barely holding back tears – because, really, she didn't need to know that he was all ready to join the elder wolves and he already had a female all picked out and it certainly wasn't her because, like he said, who'd wanna' spend the rest of forever with a violent, pedantic, flat chest like her?

"Stop," Maka sucks in air sharply, holding off her tears. Bitterness pools in her chest. "Who needs him?" She tells herself bravely and blinks them back. "I'll just... find someone else," she mumbles sadly, focusing watery eyes on the laundry she's washing, and goes back to it before anymore depressing thoughts can invade her mind. She's more than halfway done with her laundry when her sharp ears catch whimpers. They're very faint and if it hadn't been as absolutely silent as it was, the only noise being the soft lapping of water and gentle splashing of her hands, she would not have caught them.

Maka concentrates and heightens her hearing; two perked fuzzy ears at the top of her head twitching with every tiny noise. The whimpers, she wasn't imagining them! Maka opens her eyes and stands up, dusting the gravel from her knees, and wanders away from the river. She follows the whimpers, her brows knitting at the pain she can hear in every cry, and picks up her pace. Who knows, maybe someone got trapped in the bear traps the villagers set out around the forest! Although what they're doing this far in the woodland, Maka thinks curiously, she doesn't know.

She pushes through prickly branches, stepping over risen tree roots, and peeks through the foliage to find a little girl no older than the age of thirteen gagged and bound in the middle of a small clearing. Her eyes widen when they catch sight of her and Maka hurries through the green, running to the little girl and pushing her on her back.

"What happened?" Maka asks, appalled. "Who did this to you?" She's beaten and there are scars running down her neck, her skinny shoulders, her boney legs. Her eyes – they're marble black, horrified and wide-eyed, and her mouth moves over the gag shoved so far into her mouth Maka knows it has to be painful to even breathe.

Maka lifts her on her lap gently and pulls out the gag, pushing greasy hair out of her face.

"R...RUN!" The little girl screams, voice rusty with disuse. "IT'S A TRAP!"

"Trap—?" She barely has time to say before a gunshot deafens her. Maka doesn't feel the pain, not immediately. She only feels shock, a cold realization that drains through her face until it's as white as the thick clouds during a hot summer day, and then the pain hammers through her body: it's white-hot, consuming her thoughts in a tumult and ripping a scream from her throat. She isn't very familiar with pain but she knows instantly that this pain is different, more intense and agonizing than a bullet wound should be; so much different than any other pain she's ever felt, than the pain she felt at the height of Turning into what she is now.

"Leave her alone!" The little girl sobs, wiggling against her bonds. "Stop it!"

"Silver," a gruff voice says from behind her, their steps coming to a crunching halt by her ear. Maka digs her claws in the dirt desperately, gasping in breaths, unable to believe that one puny gunshot is causing her so much paralyzing pain. "Gets 'em every time!" He adds smugly, reaching down to pick up Maka by the back of her neck.

Silver.

To think a little pallet of silver was actually bringing her down – her, stubborn, steely, Maka Albarn, who'd survived the worst of the lycanthropic transformation and who'd earned the reputation for being tough and disciplined among her new family. She wasn't going to go down like this, Maka thinks through the haze of pain, she was not going to give up without putting up a fight first!

"Bite them!" The little girl cheers on when Maka lunges. "Yes!"

"Shut up!" One of the men snaps at her and the little girl shrinks. But her eyes still hold that shine of admiration for Maka as she struggles with all her might.

"AH—Grab her, grab her, dammit, she's a feisty one!" The man gasps when Maka tries to bite him again, her teeth abnormally long and sharp and her eyes a dangerous toxic green. The man tosses her away like some animal, shaking out his hand while others crowd behind him with their rifles out. Maka wastes no time: she lunges toward the little girl who trembles next to her and cuts through the rope with her claws and tells her to run – to run as fast as she can, to run as far as she can, to get help and she'll cover her no matter what.

"But," the little girl gasps. "But what about you?"

"I'll be fine," Maka pants. "Run! I won't be able to hold them off for long!"

And the gunshots, Maka's sure, the gunshots had to have warned her pack of what's happening. They'll investigate – it's always a concern when humans wander too close to their territory – and they'll find the little girl and she'll tell them what's happened and then it will all be okay. Soul will find her and everything will be fine.

Because, as Maka distracts them by phasing into her full form, the toxic silver slowly spreading through her bloodstream, she still has a duty to fulfill to her pack and that's to protect them at all costs; her new family, her new life, Soul.

They think she's going to die in a few hours because of the silver. Maka likes to think she's stronger than that. She doesn't know much about silver and its effects but surely it won't kill her so soon? They had shot her a second time, in her leg, but the bullet had gone straight through her. The wound had taken longer to heal but it had closed up now so it wasn't too bad. There was a scar, however, from where the bullet went through her skin and out the back and not even her accelerated healing could stitch the torn skin from the hot silver completely. It would take longer than that, Maka grimaces, for it to heal completely. If it ever does.

The one in her shoulder, though, Maka is concerned with. It didn't go all the way: it's lodged in there and it's keeping her from transforming again. She's too weak to, that's what scares her. She's too weak to do much except feebly growl whenever the hunters get too close. It wasn't too bad in the beginning but the longer the silver is in her body, the weaker she grows and the harder it is to stay awake.

"Damn wolf," one of the men spits at her, wrinkling his nose as he takes a swig of his flask. "Where's your pack now, huh?"

Maka doesn't reply. She only sends him a burning look that's scoffed at. The hunter goes back to drinking his whiskey, ignoring her as if she's not worth his time. Maka wants nothing more than to say something back, anything to continue fighting, but staying on her toes, literally, is tiring.

They've tied her to a tree, her arms stretched out and strapped back with thick silver chains that tie around the oak. Her shoulders are starting to ache from being tied up so long. The silver steadily burns into her skin and, if she moves too much, it actually cuts through her and she can almost hear the skin hiss. She's not naked, not completely. There was a woman in the group, the cook, and she had roughly changed her into a raggedy dress that covered everything important. Although she'd hurt her shoulder a lot and slapped her more than once when she whimpered, she's grateful. Because, really, the last thing she needs is to be pinned against the tree without any coverage; exposed to those cruel humans who, even if they express revulsion and hatred toward her kind, don't hesitate to hungrily stare at her thighs and chest: the dress that reveals just enough cleavage to earn a stare. But at least the dress was long, reaching below her knees.

Maka looks across from her, to another girl whose bound to a tree. Her head has fallen forward and Maka swallows, unable to hear the faintest of breaths come from her. She has rich chestnut hair but it's tangled with twigs and dirt and sweat. She has tan skin and her toes are rubbed raw from walking across uneven ground for who knows how long. Maka watches one of the hunters near the girl, patting her cheek a bit.

"Hey, Lou! She's not breathing! I think she's dead!"

"What?" The leader, Lou, comes forward from the shadows and frowns. "Hey, wake up!" He slaps the girl but she doesn't rouse. "...Bring her down. See if you can get her to wake up. If not, dump her. We don't need to be carryin' dead weight."

"Yessir," the other man mumbles and Maka feels nauseous. She doesn't look as they execute his orders: she presses her back against the tree and hopes that will not be her in a few hours. She's as human as she can be right now: she can't even heighten her senses. It weakens her too much and she doesn't want to push her luck. Hopefully that little girl got away. Hopefully her pack knows. She knows Soul will do everything possible to get her back – she hopes Kid and Liz and Patty and the others try, too, but as she stares at the crescent moon in the middle of the sky, she doubts.

They should have been here already, right? They've always reacted fast to emergencies and yet…it's been hours. Sure, the men had pulled a cloth bag over her head and dragged her farther and farther away from her home but surely they couldn't have gotten far? Then again, she'd blacked out for more than half of it. She woke up like this, bound and strapped against the tree. Maka doesn't let the doubt get to her too much: if no one else is willing to risk themselves to hunters, Soul will. She knows Soul will come for her. She knows he will because despite their explosive arguments, she's the closest thing he has to a best friend. He's the closest thing she has...

The sun is only just breaking over the hills and mountains when she's awoken.

"Hey, wake up," someone prods her with the barrel of a rifle. "Wake up, wolf, drink up! We've got another few miles to go before we reach Loew. You'll make a good show for the men," he grins and Maka wrinkles her nose at him, staring back defiantly. He presses the flask over her mouth without preamble, ignoring her when she chokes on the whiskey that runs strong and sour down her throat.

Maka shudders, coughs wracking her body.

"Eh," the rifle lifts her chin and he takes in her exhausted eyes and trembling lips. He lets the barrel touch her injured shoulder and a strangled cry escapes her throat. "Chin up, wolf, you can't die on us yet. We haven't made it to the village—hm?" He turns sharply to the right, staring at the still foliage. He strains his hearing but there's nothing else. Probably another forest critter, he dismisses, and turns his sights back on the beautiful but deadly wolf girl that had been lured into their trap. Out of all their traps, this one worked like a charm. They'd caught three already using this method.

"Too bad you're an abomination," he sneers, the barrel of his gun pressing against her collarbone. "You'd make a real nice wife. Not no more, though, not with these scars on you..." It runs down the valley of her breasts and Maka shuts her eyes, turning her head away when her the neckline catches on the gun and it slowly lowers, lower and lower—her dignity slowly fracturing, Maka growls in her throat as tears well in her eyes. She wants nothing more than to claw his eyes out.

Suddenly, he stops and Maka realizes seconds later it's because of the screams of horror that are coming from the campsite. The man swears, looking back at her hesitantly, and Maka stares ahead with some hope – was that the snarl of wolves she heard? – but the man isn't stupid. He knows what happened and Maka cries out when he grabs the chains and pulls, digging the silver into her tender skin.

"Dammit!" he curses. "Those fools! Should've brought more Maiden's Woe to keep 'em off our trail!"

"What are you doing?" Maka gasps, shutting an eye in pain as the man unbinds her. One by one the chains unravel and Maka can just spot her newly scarred skin, the skin that will probably not heal back to its normal smoothness, before her knees collapse under her and she falls forward. It's faster than she can keep up with: the man catches her and then the vicious snarl of a wolf is right in her ear; bone crunches and the hunter is screaming in agony and Maka is breathing in dirt, hot blood splattering the back of her shoulder. Then the hunters cries die out abruptly.

"MAKA!" Soul roars, sounding more like an animalistic snarl than her name. But she hears it clearly and she feels so relieved to know it's him. She wants to turn but her skin burns and her joints ache. She only softly calls his name, stomach turning when she lifts herself up a little.

He was waiting, Maka realizes with relief, slumping back down on the floor. He was waiting for him to untie me because the silver…he can't touch it, either. Maka's turned on her back suddenly and the voice that greets her is shakier than she's ever heard it; the most human she's ever heard it. Her eyes shift to his fiery red, wild with panic at her wounds, and she's not at all surprised it's really Soul. She knew he would come because if this ever happened to him, you can bet everything you owned she would go to the edge of hell to bring him back.

But he was more methodical, always had been: he had waited until he saw an opening in order keep them both alive. It's just like him not to take any risks, she thinks woozily, no risks unlike her. They're so different, how could she have ever hoped to be with him? Stupid, stupid her. Before her eyes slide shut and she's being carried away from the biting and snarling and gunshots, she catches his desperate words, and maybe she's not so stupid after all:

"Maka, you're going to make it – you can't die," he whispers, barely reaching over the wind. "I need you."

She wakes up when Tsubaki is hovering over her, a scalpel dug deep into her silver-damaged skin, and when she flinches away, that's the worst mistake because the pain explodes like glass explodes under pressure. Then Tsubaki is telling her to calm down, please, she knows it hurts but she can't kill the pain with anything because it's a delicate process. Maka only grinds her teeth and tries to overcome it but ultimately she succumbs to it: this isn't a normal kind of pain, she can't think it away, this is an excruciating pain only silver can bring. And the more Tsubaki tries to calm her, the more she struggles and the more it hurts.

"Maka, calm down!" Soul shouts, somewhere behind her. "You're hurting yourself!"

"She's hurting me!" She cries, roughly, and shuts her eyes when his hands strap her down. Her wide, tear-blurred, eyes meet with red again for a split second before they slam shut and she howls in agony as Tsubaki picks out shards of silver from her shoulder guiltily. After that it goes black and it's black for a long time.

It doesn't feel long but it must have been a long time because the next time she wakes, it's nightfall and she feels exhausted despite having been unconscious just seconds ago. The moonlight illuminates her arms, bandaged all the way up to her shoulder. They feel stiff, her hand particularly, and she realizes it's because she's holding someone's hand – Soul's hand, he's fast asleep on the pulled up chair beside her, his head resting in his arm and his hand tightly holding hers. Her head feels stuffy and her throat is parched. She licks her dry lips and shifts, moving her free hand to rub her eyes out. It hurts to bend her arm so much but she manages, groaning a little when she rests her arm by her side again. That had taken too much effort to be good.

The tiny noise is enough to rouse Soul, who jolts awake.

"Maka?"

"Hey, Soul," Maka rasps and clears her throat right after.

"Maka, you're awake!" He breaths in relief, chair screeching out from behind him. "You're finally awake!"

"How long have I been asleep?" Maka asks, frowning. She can't have been asleep that long, right?

"Four days," he says and she blinks, amazed.

"I slept four days straight?"

He nods weakly, his hand reaching out to caress her cheek because he needs to touch something that's her. Maka stiffens but that hurts so she relaxes, closing her eyes when he draws closer to her and presses their foreheads together and whispers that he's damn happy that she's awake, she's back, she's going to be okay, because she came so close to dying on him – too close, any later and the silver poisoning would've been too far to reverse.

"A little silver," Maka mumbles, obstinately, "isn't going to kill me, Soul, you should know better."

"Right, you're too stubborn to die," Soul chuckles mirthlessly, running his thumb over her eyes. She opens them after, watching his tired face relax with relief. "For once, I'm glad you're so hardheaded."

Maka growls a little and a smile graces his face, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. Her annoyance quickly melts away when he presses his nose against her cheek, nuzzling her. Her cheeks redden at the gesture – just what does he think he's doing? – and then she remembers something:

"Soul, did you get the laundry from the river?"

He opens his eyes, confused. "Laundry?"

"I was doing the laundry before I was captured!" Maka tells him. "I left it all out! Please tell me you picked it up…?"

He stares at her. "Maka, I haven't left your side since Tsubaki stitched you back up."

"What?" She cries, more for the fact that he stayed with her than her laundry. "So you mean you didn't pick up my laundry?" She groans, her eyes flashing with annoyance and, despite her mild ire that she's probably going to need to buy new clothes, she can't help but smile when Soul laughs outright. "…Now what am I going to wear?" Maka mumbles, sulky. "Bandages?" Her eyes shift down to her arms – her scarred, ugly, arms – and she sighs resignedly and stares at the ceiling. "...I wouldn't mind wearing bandages for the rest of my life."

"It's not that bad."

Maka slumps even more.

"It isn't," he insists, glancing at her bandages. "It could have been a lot worse. Tsubaki says there won't be many scars left if you rest properly."

"Not many," Maka bitterly says. Her eyes shift to the bureau that's pushed against that wall and belatedly realizes they're actually in her room. Her sense of smell is seriously dull. "You know, if I had a chance at finding someone before, I don't have any now."

Soul tenses and looks at her. "Because of what happened?"

Maka doesn't want to reply but she does anyway. She doesn't have much to lose now, does she? "Yes! Soul, I'm damaged! No one wants a scarred up partner!" She forces out, her eyes stinging with reluctant tears. "The hunter was right when he told me that much…"

She hears him growl and Maka's more than surprised when Soul forces her to look at him, into his fierce red eyes that glow like two bright coals in the darkness, "Whatever that bastard told you, it's not true. Anyone would be crazy not to want you, Maka, you're beautiful," he whispers harshly, "You always have been and those scars on your skin don't change that!"

"Y—don't lie to me!" Maka stutters, regaining her spark. "You've always told me I'd be lucky if I even managed to find a partner!"

"Because they know better than to make a move on you!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Soul hesitates for a second before admitting, "Why do you think no other male other than me talks to you, Maka?"

Maka doesn't want to believe it but the evidence suddenly piles up. That missing piece, she's found it now. How the other males practically turn heel and scamper away from her; why no ones bothered trying to flirt with her; why they all just... disregard her even though they hit on anything available and she's technically very available. She remembers that something similar happened to Liz. It was a technique called marking, where a single wolf laid claim on a female or various females at a time. But it doesn't make sense, why he would mark her of all people. Maybe he accidentally did it or the other wolves were mistaken, given that she spent most of her time with him...?

"You're the reason I've been getting flack from Patty?"

"Flack? For what?"

"Because it's been a whole year, Soul, and I'm still partner-less!" Maka snarls, cringing when she moved too much. Soul scowls and pushes her back down, muttering not to move or else she'll hurt herself. "I was supposed to find someone during the summer season, Soul! Kid ordered it! That's the only time all the packs of the area gather!" Maka shouts, glaring at him when he shushes her with an even deeper scowl. "And no one even talked to me! Patty has never let me live it down! Nor does Liz! And it's all because you – because you scared them all away and now I'll probably never be partnered with someone because I'm already twenty one and now I'm ugly and—!"

"You're not old, Maka, it's not your fault you were turned late," Soul snorts and his tone softens considerably. "And you're not ugly. You can't be," he smiles crookedly, pressing his fingers over the lovely flush that adorns her cheeks. "C'mon, Maka, I was just teasing you. I don't mean it," he chuckles, "you can't possibly think I do, right?"

Maka glares at him.

"And you call me sensitive…"

Maka flushes deeply, barking out: "H-how was I supposed to know you were kidding? You didn't sound like it! You're always calling me names! I thought – thought something was really wrong with me..." She leaves off at an embarrassed mumble and his smirk disappears, his gaze falling back on the bandages that cover her arms. After Soul's mumbled sorry, they ease back into silence but it's more comfortable than before. He gazes at the sheets and for a long time she wonders what he's thinking about but whenever she asks or nudges him, he spares her a glance and doesn't reply.

She's halfway asleep when he suddenly announces:

"I want to be your partner."

That startles her awake, her eyes springing open, and before she can sputter an incredulous what, he adds:

"I've been meaning to ask you for awhile. I chose you a long time ago," he continues lowly, "and I told Kid about it, that's why he hasn't bothered you about taking someone all this time. I just didn't know how to bring it up so I kept putting it off. But after this," he hesitates, his eyes darkening. Their eyes meet again and Maka is struck by how absolutely vulnerable they look. "I don't think I can take something like this again...and I, can't see myself being happy if you're not there," the words come out easier after forcing the first one out. He weakly smiles, "Someone has to be there to put me back in place, right?"

She's silent but she doesn't need to analyze his every move and every word to know that he's being absolutely sincere. It's that simple look in his eye, open, exposed, raw, that tells her he's not kidding around; he's being serious, for once. Maka remembers the times she wanted him to be serious with her and the one time he's actually being serious, she wants him to pull on her pigtails and tease her about looking like a child. She's not used to such a serious Soul, such stern eyes that await her response. She's used to the mischievous, cocky, arrogant, wolf that never fails to make her laugh one second and rage the next.

"...I don't have big breasts."

"I've never cared about that."

"I'm not going to change because of this."

"I don't want you to."

"I'll still hit you if you piss me off."

"Good," he snorts. "I'm still going to piss you off so it's even."

Maka softens her eyes and inhales deeply, exhaling out a tired sigh. There is a bone-weakening relief that washes over her after this. He'll stay by her. He won't abandon her. He's willing to put up with her and, to be honest, she's always been willing to put up with his insufferableness. An even trade, Maka thinks with a tiny smile, they might be different in many aspects but they make it work.

"Only if you promise to buy me new clothes because I think the river took mine all the way downstream," Maka smiles and she squeaks when Soul grins and brings her into his arms. She tries to raise a hand to grab his shirt but it stings, the gauze rubbing against her tender skin, so she settles for burying her nose in his chest and closing her eyes.

"You can wear some of mine while I get Liz to buy you new clothes," Soul says, stroking her hair with his hand. Maka nods, having worn his shirts before on more than one occasion. Those times, Maka thinks wondrously, she never really saw it - how he kept any other man from offering their clothes to her. She's always taken Soul's and she remembers once she'd almost taken someone else's but Soul had taken off his right after: apparently, he'd rather go shirtless and cold than let someone else rub their scent all over her.

"Back then," Maka begins, quietly. Soul shifts, indicating he was listening to her. "Whenever you let me borrow your jacket..."

"I didn't like it when others let you use their clothing," Soul answers with a shrug. "I didn't think about it a lot, though, I just did it because it made me feel better."

Maka rolls her eyes. Of course he'd done it without even knowing why. Typical Soul, Maka can't help but think with a fond smile, jackass he may be, she would not trade him for another. She hears the chair scrape back and Soul finally lets her go, letting her lay back down comfortably while he sits back down and rests his chin on his arm. His hand slips back into hers except this time she squeezes it and he squeezes back reassuringly. Things will work out, she thinks to herself, sure she has scars on her body now but as Soul brings her hand so his lips rest against her knuckles, she knows it won't be a problem that she's got war scars now. Scars that Tsubaki, the best medic in either packs that surround the area, assures will fade within the weeks if she gets her rest; continues to apply that cream that soothes the burns and makes them heal up faster because of its magical properties.

"Goodnight, Soul," Maka yawns out, eyes droopy.

"Night, Maka."

A/N: I've been meaning to post this up for awhile. It's just a little something I came up with because I've wanted to post a werewolf!Soul/Maka for a looong time now! But my every attempt had been foiled by writers block...until now, that is :P

Scarlett.