Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater

some girls have all the luck
by. Poisoned Scarlett

She doesn't realize it—not until she's in the locker room after her solo training with Nygus, pulling on her socks. Her bare right foot steps in the puddle of water she'd been trying to avoid. She curses softly under her breath. At least she had not stepped on it with her sock on; that would have made today all the more irritating.

Nygus had not gone easy on her today and she didn't care what Black Star said about her being a lightweight: Nygus was unrelenting and vicious. They trained until her muscles ached with every dodge and kick, until she could barely stand to move—even worse when they came to an impasse, both standing on opposite sides, sizing each other up. She liked it better when she was moving, following the flow of combat, because then her muscles would not feel as if they were being slowly split open. But it was as if Nygus read her thoughts and did everything she could to stop the flow. Maka was sure she would have been able to land more hits had she not been so sore from previous exercise but, as Nygus often said: if it doesn't hurt, you're not trying hard enough.

Training was done for the day, thankfully, so she needn't hurt anymore. She could head back home and relax on the couch, take a nap to replenish her energy, and then work on homework. She could make Soul cook—!

Oh, no, today's my turn to cook! Maka remembers with a groan, slumping against the wall of the shower stall. I wonder if I can get Soul to do it…he skipped out last month! I should be allowed a break everyone once in awhile! She thinks with a huff. She worked the hardest out of the two of them! She had extra combat training because her three-star exam was coming up soon and the physical exam was—according to everyone who had taken it, even Stein—brutal. Nygus was doing everything she could to ensure she was prepared for anything they might throw at her. Some of the training the woman put her through was insanity and there were times when Maka wanted to quit and continue on her own, but she ultimately stayed because she knew better. Nygus' manner of teaching was informal—all the techniques, the methods, the skills, Maka them picked up from these exercise. They would bring her one step closer to acing that exam with a score high enough to qualify her to train Soul for a few more years, until her father retired.

She's already made him a Deathscythe, but only by title. Now she needed to help him live up to that title.

Maka ultimately decides she'll just make him cook dinner tonight and painstakingly pulls her shirt over her head. She's rolling it down her stomach when the sound of gentle crying catches her attention. She can hear it clearer now, coming from the front of the locker room. Maka is about to pack up her things and go check it out when the double doors slam open, bringing along with it a cacophony of sound—or more like panicked calls of a name. The crying grows worse at the sound. Maka makes sure she's quiet, leaning past the stall to peer down the passage that leads to the first row of lockers. She can't see them, but she can hear them, their comforting coos amplified in the spacious room.

It's only when one of the girls says, "he didn't deserve you" that Maka understands what happened.

And she only shakes her head at it: the men who treated their girlfriends in such a manner deserved to have their jaws dislocated. They took everything for granted, it was disgusting! Maka slips into her skirt and bends down to grab one of her boots. She's forcing her foot into her boot when she freezes, caught off-guard by the girls next words:

"He was my partner—he's my weapon, how could he just switch like that? He said that we would always be partners. I trusted him with my life and he just…turns out to be this other girls weapon, too? I thought this wouldn't happen between meister and weapons—I thought this was more serious than those stupid relationships!" the girl cries out, sniffling loudly. "I don't even want a-a boyfriend I just want…someone to trust, you know? Someone I c-can rely on when things are rough."

She wants a companion, Maka thinks quietly, someone to cherish and spend the rest of your life with. She doesn't want a short-lived relationship; she doesn't want to bounce from man to man, breaking a heart here or having your heart broken there. She wants someone solid, someone she can go to when things are rough and the days are bleak.

She's just like her, in a sense.

"…not all of them are like him!" one of her friends shouts, hesitating a second before continuing: "Like Maka and Soul! They've been partners since they first joined the academy! She's already made him a Deathscythe and they're still together—in fact, Soul has never cheated on Maka. He—remember that one time three years ago? When he was in the hospital for a week because he was hurt on a mission? He was hurt trying to protect Maka! He protected her! He could have died, but he didn't care because she was his meister and it's a weapons duty to protect their meister at all costs! He takes that oath seriously!"

Maka fists her hand, listening quietly as more girls pitched forth examples.

The times Soul had been offered, face-to-face, to change partners. Every single time he shot them down.

The continuous flow of letters in his locker, the never-ending task of tossing them out when they became too many to ignore.

Even regular offers for dating, for being in a relationship that was not meister-weapon. They were shot down as well.

All of the times they fought, through all the arguments, he never said they should just stop being partners. Those words had never escaped his lips and Maka thinks about that for a second longer, how despite their explosive arguments he had never once said that he would rather partner with someone else. She only remembered him doing it once, very early in their partnership, and that someone had been Black Star. But he had never been serious about it; it was more them trying to show off in front of Kidd.

Their list continued.

Maka was honestly surprised they were being so heavily observed all this time.

How they held hands, how Maka trusted he would be there when she needed him and how he trusted her to do the same, their numerous missions, their numerous remedial classes, their assignments, and their arguments that always ended with one or the other mumbling an apology, how they talked things out before they became too big, the fact that they were rarely separated more by choice than by obligation, how they voiced their thoughts to each other so easily and without embarrassment. Maka had never thought about it, just how utterly comfortable she was with Soul. She lived with him—she had been living with him for the past four years going on five and things were so natural between them. His dirty socks and boxers didn't disgust her: she usually picked them up off the floor like nothing, tossing them into the laundry basket and shouting at him to quit doing it because it was annoying and messy. She had been there to pat his back when he vomited out his stomach from eating bad sushi and he had done the same the time she ate bad ribs. When she felt gloomy, he asked and asked again when she resisted because he knew she was stubborn and she needed to talk about it. He just knew, knew her so well. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it so he didn't upset her anymore than she already was.

And when he was being surly, she gave him space and asked when he looked a little more receptive. She asked until he told her, asked straight forwardly because being soft with him would only ruffle him more. She asked and she grabbed his arm and asked again, holding his eyes, because he had a weakness for that and he always told her after—and they fixed things together.

He had a tell when he was angry: his jaw would be clenched closed and the nerve would jump just a bit, not enough for any one person to notice but she noticed. He didn't often get angry but when he did, he could hold grudges better than a woman could.

"So you can't give up on partnerships just because this one weapon didn't appreciate you, okay?" one of the girl's friends said, earnestly. "If Maka can do it, so can you!"

"But Maka's lucky," the girl mumbled. Maka leaned forward, trying to catch her words. "She found such a good partner…I have the worst luck, I don't think I'll ever find a partner as great as Soul!" She cried and her friends hurried to comfort her again.

Maka let her eyes stray back to her boots. They were scuffed on the heel from where she would misstep whenever she dodged a blow. They were rather worn, well-used but worn, and she remembered Soul commenting earlier in the month that she should get a new pair soon. This particular brand was expensive so she put off buying new ones until she really needed them. But perhaps she should indulge herself a bit and buy some new boots. Perhaps she should really unwind a little because those girls were right: it was silly to be so cautious of Soul, so afraid of him and what he could make her feel.

Because Soul had never given her a reason to doubt him.

I never noticed, Maka thinks, just how lucky I am to have him as my partner. He's never done anything that would harm our partnership. In fact, I've…I think I'm the one who tests it. She drops her eyes to the floor guiltily. Because I'm so scared.

And maybe it was time to stop being so scared. She was going to ace that meister exam. She was going to be the one to train Soul until the current Deathscythe retired and she was going to do it all with the help of Soul, as always. She might be doing some extra training with Nygus, but that didn't mean he did not help her in his own way—grinning with her, making her laugh, making her angry, frustrated, but always giving her a reason to want to stay, to not let the thought of leaving him cross her mind. He was always, always giving her a reason to stay.

Maka slips out of the locker room unnoticed and makes her way back home without any complaint, despite the fact that she was so tired earlier. She arrives home later than she anticipated and guesses she really is tired if it took her longer than ten minutes to arrive. She picks out her keys from her bag and opens the door, closing it behind her with a sigh of relief.

She's finally home.

"Soul?"

"Oh, hey, Maka!" Soul peeks out of the kitchen, holding a jug of lemonade in his hand. He pours a glass for himself as she throws her bag on the couch and plops down on it, exhaling another relieved sigh at finally being home. "You're back late."

Maka cracks open an eye. "I got held back by a few girls in the locker room," she tells him, knowing it was true. They had certainly held her back, but she managed to slip past with them being none the wiser. "I'm just glad to be home," she yawned, rubbing her eye out with the heel of her palm. "Nygus has really been grinding down on the lessons these past few days."

"That Meister exam is in a month so you're going to need to be in the best shape," he states, his voice strong despite being in the kitchen. He has always had a strong, deep, voice. "You and Ox gonna' compete for first again?"

"Compete? I already have first," Maka scoffs.

She can hear the smirk in his next words, "That's what he told me when I asked him, too."

"He admitted that I'm going to get first?" Maka perked up, whipping her head to face him.

Soul laughed. "No, that he was gonna' get first!"

"In his dreams," she huffs. "He's been slacking recently because of Kim. She doesn't let him study since it isn't good for her image or something."

"Studying is uncool," Soul teases and she makes a noise of derision in the back of her throat.

Maka reaches down and looks at her boots, noticing a new rip in her strap. It was practically hanging off the side of her boot now. That had been where Nygus had swiped at her that time! Well, better the boots than her ankle, she thinks with a tiny smile. "I'll be back," Maka stands up, grabbing her bag to shake out her wallet.

"Eh? Where you going?" Soul asks, walking back into the living room with a glass in his hand. He was in his sleeping pants with a regular t-shirt. In other words, he was in his pajamas, which told her that he definitely had no intention of going out later to play basketball with the others or just hang out. That was good to know, at least.

"To buy new boots," she answers with a smile, stepping into sight and lifting her foot a little. "We used weapons today and Nygus must have cut the strap when I dodged," she frowns and she's just turned to head out when he speaks up:

"Go check in your room."

"Hm?"

He nods towards her room, rounding her to reach the couch. He sits back and nods again with a risen brow. "Go check in your room. Just do it, Maka."

Maka frowns. "Why?" She goes anyway, entering her bedroom to find a box on her bed. It's still in the bag and she doesn't need to look inside of it to know what it is. But she does anyway, taking the box out of the plastic bag and flipping it open, letting her eyes linger on the new pair of boots inside which are just her size. They're different than the ones she usually buys: these are more combat-style, lace up rather than buckle and they're a little higher on her calf than what she usually buys. She picks one up, surprised by the weight, and when her hand runs over the smooth black leather, she realizes it's because they're steel-toed.

Right. How many times had something fallen on her toes? She remembers once she broke a few toes when a block of cement landed on them by accident during a mission a year ago. If it hadn't been for the black blood, she would have had a painful recovery period. She had been meaning to buy some steel-toed boots, but it was a detail that always slipped her mind. Maka placed the boot back into its box and closed it, turning back to the living room

When Soul got a good look at her face, he tensed. "Eh, I thought you'd like them since you always complain about the other brands being too girly—Maka?" He sat up when she neared. His mouth opened to call her name again when she leaned down and crushed him in a hug. The thing about Maka's hugs was that, despite her lithe frame, she had the strength of a mother bear and he choked when she managed to get her arms around his neck. "Hey, M-Maka, you alright?" He wheezed and she mumbled something he didn't catch. "Maka?"

"You are the best partner I could have ever asked for," she wailed and he blinked, bewildered.

"I just bought you a pair of boots—"

"No, not because of that but that's a reason, too," she sniffles and Soul's eyes bulge because her eyes are actually watery. It's a rare sight to see Maka openly cry and he panics, wondering what provoked such a strong reaction from her. He stiffens and grabs her arm, squeezing because that's all the comfort he could offer without this getting any more awkward. "I didn't realize just how much of a great partner you were all this time. I always doubted you but you never gave up and I—'m sorry for always hitting you and treating you badly," she hiccuped with a wet sniffle. His eyes softened, a crooked smile lifting his lips.

"You idiot, don't cry about that."

Maka just sucks back her sniffles. He reaches up and ruffles her hair, pushing her nose into his shoulder. She gladly obliges, resting her knee between his legs and leaning against him with her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. She rubs her eyes against his shirt to get rid of her tears and she can faintly hear his chuckling at the gesture, his hand now cradling her neck. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he gently says and smiles when she grunts. "Sometimes I do some pretty dumb crap, I don't blame you for putting me in line. I'm glad you did. And, for the record, you made me into a Deathscythe, there is no way you can do anything to piss me off now," he grins and Maka giggles a little at that.

"By the way, is there anymore lemonade left?"

Soul stiffens. "I, uh...maybe?"

Maka leans back and gives him a very unamused look, her eyes narrowing. "You drank all the lemonade I made again, didn't you?! Soul, I asked you leave me some for tonight, you jerk!" She smacks him over the head and hops off the couch, mumbling choice words under her breath.

"Hey, hey, what was all this talk about me being the best partner in the world all about then?" Soul shouts, glaring lightly at her from over the edge of the couch. Maka looks at him, holding the jug in one hand. She sticks her tongue out.

"I never said the whole world!"

"Wha—same thing!"

"Mm, no they're not. They're two very different things," Maka tells him, mock-stern. "I said you're the best partner I could have asked for, not the best one in the world."

"I feel like that's an insult, somehow," Soul glares.

Maka softly smiles, filling the jug with water to wash it out. "It's not. I wouldn't want the best in the world. I wanted someone who fit everything that I wanted in a weapon, and that's you! You can say that you really are perfect for me!" She chirps and misses how his face reddens considerably and he nearly loses his balance, just catching himself from tipping over. His mouth opens to ask but, at the sight of her happy humming, he stops and decides this can be a conversation for another time. For now, he's content knowing he is just right for her.