Reunion

By: DemonClowSorceress

Disclaimer: Soul Eater doesn't belong to me. I just play with the plushies and squeeze the stuffing out of Soul!

Summary: It's hard to admit when you were wrong. Luckily, neither one said "I told you so."

Soul slouched on the couch, trying not to think about Maka or her date. A half-empty cup of cocoa sat on the coffee table next to his feet, his fourth since she left two hours before. His favorite jazz record played in the background, soothing his jangled and angry nerves into some semblance of calm.

It wasn't working as well as he'd hoped.

He couldn't stop picturing Maka in that green dress and black jacket, those heels giving her legs more of a boost than her boots. She was, in his eyes, more than beautiful. Picking the outfit had been a reflex, a slip-up of his own desire to see her in something other than her uniforms, casual clothes, or that black lace creation she sported in his mind's Black Room. When she wore said outfit, his heart had almost stopped.

And Cartright was going to be seen with her, the lucky bastard. People were going to see his meister out walking with that guy and think, "Wow, what a nice couple."

Once more Soul cursed himself for trying to be such a good guy. He'd always thrown out all of Maka's letters just to avoid having this crappy feeling. Being jealous was not cool. Being afraid of getting ditched was not cool. But he was both right now, and it scared him.

Maka wasn't the only one with a fear of abandonment. Soul harbored the secret fear that someday Maka would want to move on, to make another Deathscythe. Cartright could probably be that replacement.

Well, there were worse weapons in Shibusen she could've had. He'd probably take care of Maka.

And if he doesn't... Soul absently transformed his arm into a scythe and checked its razor-sharp edge. I can always -

"Blair, we're flying too faaaaaaaast!"

He shot up when he heard Maka's approaching scream. Changing his arm back to normal, he rose from the couch and headed for the front door. The hell was Maka doing back so early? And why with Blair? he wondered. Unless Cartright... Sudden rage made him yank the door open and yell, "Maka? What happened?"

Actually, he only got as far as "Maka, wha - " before his throat closed up in shock. Maka was in the process of hopping off one of Blair's Flying Pumpkins like a curfew-breaking Cinderella, her jacket in hand and her hair flying around her head like a halo. Her face was flushed, but from anger or the flight back was hard to determine.

"Soul, I'm ba - Oh!" she said, stopping right in front of him. Her eyes widened in surprise before glancing away. "I, uh, I'm back."

"Welcome back." She didn't look upset or hurt. At least on the outside. Soul stepped aside and let his meister enter the apartment, then turned to face Blair. "Not that I'm complaining, but why did you bring her home?"

Blair's cat smile was as satisfied as if she'd just lapped up the finest cream. "Maka-chan just figured out what Bu-tan's always known, nyah~!" she purred, leaning over her pumpkin and twirling one purple lock of hair. "Be good to her, Scythe-Boy! Bu-tan's going back to work, nyah~"

He waved goodbye to the pumpkin-riding magical cat, then went inside again. Maka was standing at the record player with her back to him, apparently listening to his jazz record. He didn't want to, but his curiosity was burning to find out what urged Maka to ditch Nestor.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I cut it short with Nestor. Blair let me bum a ride home."

"Why? I thought he was practically perfect," Soul said, pitching his voice to mimic hers and wincing at the heavy dose of sarcasm it had.

But Maka surprised him. Instead of chucking a book at his head, she just shrugged offhandedly. "Yeah. But I found out that a practically perfect partner isn't for me." Maka looked at the Demon Scythe with a fond smile. "I much prefer the partner I have now."

Partner. That word again. Soul jammed his hands in his pockets and glanced at the wall. "That so? What, his perfect looks and winning smile and oh-so-wonderful gentleman manners too much for a rude tiny-tits like you?" Smooth, Evans. You're one cool bastard, he thought.

Again he braced for impact. Again she surprised him by not bashing his brains across the carpet.

"Actually, he treated me like a lady." Maka smiled as she recollected. "He paid the check, held the door for me, didn't oogle other girls, understands my musical taste, does - "

"Get to the part where I'm supposed to care," Soul bit out.

She crossed her arms and pouted. "Point is, I got bored."

"...What?"

"He was boring," she repeated. "Ordinary. And then Papa showed up - "

"Wait, your old man crashed your date?"

" - and he liked Nestor," Maka continued. "Worse, Nestor asked him for permission to become my weapon partner! And Papa gave his blessing!" She fumed as she crossed the room and flounced onto the couch. "Can you believe it?"

"No, actually," Soul replied. Spirit didn't strike him as a guy who'd approve of some dude randomly wanting to become his daughter's partner. Then again, he does despise me...

Maka huffed some more. "So you know what that means."

Not really. "Enlighten me."

"It means he's probably just like Papa."

Soul's eyebrow shot up. "Okay, that may be a little harsh."

"Papa talked with Nestor for ten minutes and approved him for me. What else could it mean?"

"That Spirit really hates me?" said the white-haired boy. "I thought we knew this already. When we first partnered up he tried breaking us up every chance he could."

"Huh?" Maka frowned. Apparently this was new information for her. "Why?"

"Because he didn't approve of me. He still doesn't." Deciding to test the waters, Soul grinned impishly. "According to him, I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to you."

"But you're not!" Maka objected. "I told Papa that today too! Nestor may have had his blessing, but he's not you! Nobody can replace you, Soul!"

It was sappy and stupid and completely uncool, but Soul felt her words warm his broken heart and start piecing the wreckage back together. However, cynicism warned him not to read too much into it. "Because I'm your partner," he said, stressing the last word ever so slightly.

He picked up his mug and headed into the kitchen. He needed space, and as uncool as that was, he needed it bad. Maybe he'd call up Black*Star and see if the ninja wanted to play some one-on-one at the courts...

She must've shucked off her heels, because Soul never heard her approach. He did feel her arms encircle his middle and her body press against his back, her cheek resting just behind his suddenly-racing heart. Every muscle tensed up at the sudden contact. "Maka?"

"Don't turn around," she whispered. "This is hard for me too, okay?" She tightened her hold slightly. "I wasn't really having fun on this date. Even though I was treated like a lady and it was the best date I could've ever had, I didn't have any fun. Everything Nestor did was really nice, but I kept thinking, "Soul wouldn't do this" or "Soul would've said that" the whole time."

Soul swallowed to regain his voice. "That so."

Her fingers began to fidget and pick at each other nervously. "Then Blair said something, and I...well, I was wrong. Nestor's perfect, but perfect isn't for me."

"...What did Blair say?"

Now Maka was the one to swallow hard. "She said that...that you were the only one for her," she mumbled. "And I realized that it's the same with me."

"Because I'm your - "

"You're my partner, yes, but more than that. You're - " Her arms tightened around his torso. "You're Soul. My Soul."

All right, enough of this subtle hinting crap. Soul twisted around in her arms, surprising Maka when his hands moved to cup her face. "Why don't you just spill the real reason?" he said, tilting her gaze upwards.

Her eyes were filled with the same stubbornness that placed the pout on her lips. "Then tell me why you've been so gloomy recently."

Soul grimaced. "You're gonna think it's uncool."

"You're the one who worries about that sort of thing."

"Okay." He glanced down, then met her eyes. "I - I was mad. And jealous. I'm not really good with people, and I'm really not good with people who like my meister." His thumb drifted to caress her cheek. "I want you all to myself, Maka. You're my meister, and nobody else's, and I'm not losing you to some pretty-boy bastard who morphs into a pointy stick."

Her pout formed a grin as twisted as his own. "You sound almost possessive, Soul Eater."

"Well, that's what happens when I fall in love with a really cool girl." Soul's crimson eyes went wide as beach balls when he realized what he'd said. His blush rivalled a tomato's for color.

Maka likewise flushed red at his words, dropping her gaze to stare at his chest. "Even though I'm a scrawny, violent tiny-tits?" she asked.

"You're my scrawny, violent tiny-tits, and anyway, I say that so other guys won't think about sniffing around what's mine."

She smiled wryly. "You're such a romantic, Soul."

"Don't spread that around. I have a cool reputation to maintain." He leaned slightly closer. "Now shut up so I can kiss you and save whatever coolness I've got left."

Instead of a verbal reply, Maka rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. She hummed when they connected; nothing in her wildest fantasies could have prepared her for the feel of Soul's kiss. She let her arms release his waist and twine around his neck to keep him close, unable to get enough of him.

Soul responded by kissing her back, hard, but gently as well. One hand moved to cradle the back of her head while the other migrated down to hold her waist. He heard her moan softly, and he smiled.

Maka pulled back slightly. "Don't gloat," she whispered against his lips. "It's so not cool."

He merely growled at being interrupted and pulled her in for another searing kiss.

Hurray! Happy ending! With some nice fluff, yes?

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