Answer the Question

"Hurry up, Soul, we're going to be late!"

"Yeah, I know, but you were the one that wouldn't wake up, so why do I have to hurry? It's not cool to run to school so you won't be late!"

Maka hissed curses at him, screw him, this was his fault, why did he leave his motorcycle at school anyway, and pulled a nine-hundred-page encyclopedia out of her bag. The threat of a Maka-Chop was enough to keep him running.

Cool or not cool, they arrived just in time and out of breath at their seats.

"YAHOO! GOOD MORNING, MY LOYAL SUBJECTS! YOU RAN HERE TO BASK IN YOUR GOD'S LIGHT AND THEREFORE THE ALMIGHTY ME WILL CALL YOU HIS MOST LOYAL SUBJECTS FROM THIS DAY ON! YOU SHOULD FEEL HONOURED! NYAHAHAHAHA!"

"I'm sorry, he's a little loud this morning, isn't he?", Tsubaki said apologetically.

"More like obnoxious.", Soul muttered.

Maka nailed him in the side and turned to Tsubaki, smiling. "Good morning, Tsubaki. It is quite annoying, but that's nothing for you to be apologizing about."

Tsubaki sweat-dropped as her meister ranted about his godliness again and – she noted with embarrassment – also boasted about his "godly relationship with his goddess and weapon". She had been really happy when he had first asked her out, but that didn't mean she didn't want to sink into the ground every time he opened his big mouth about it in public.

Then, as Black Star was still shouting and Maka was still looming over Soul like a book-armed threat because of some offhand comment, professor Stein rolled in on his chair, obligatorily kissed the ground while trying to pass the threshold to the classroom and began lecturing them from down there about the tests they had to take this year. He got up again, all the while talking about how tragic it was that their dissections would be put on hold for a while for the minor exams this term. Exams that entailed a test in Latin with many forms of the gerund and the gerundive and the differences between them.

For once, Soul actually wanted to do a dissection. Latin? For real now? That was so not cool. Hell, he didn't even understand why he had to learn a language no one spoke anymore anyway. What was the point in that? He didn't see it helping their missions either. And besides, Latin was just about the most uncool language ever, right after Greek. And by that he didn't mean the Greek that was spoken now but the freaking ancient one. He was lucky he didn't have to write a test in Greek.

"Oh, I seem to have forgotten to tell you", Stein said at that moment, "that you are also required to take a test in Greek this year."

Soul felt like his life had just ended then and there. He'd fail for sure in both Latin and Greek and with something like that a Maka-Chop sentencing him to death by book would be inevitable.

He tried to concentrate on class at least a little – he wanted to live a little bit longer and death by book would be a painful one he'd like to avoid, please and thank you – but Stein's blabbering about Latin was even less interesting than his blabbering about dissections and his technician beside him was simply too big a distraction. Not that she was particularly cute or anything with that wretched temper of hers and her absolute no-nonsense attitude and her childish, soft pigtails and her too fucking green eyes and just everything about her that managed to snatch his heart away.

So sue him, he didn't have a crush on his meister and he didn't want to admit that it was actually a whole lot more than a crush that kept his eyes trained on her. Because first, it was uncool to try to hide nosebleeds and – god forgive him if she ever found out – boners from his meister, second because it was totally uncool to be all mushy and happy when she smiled at him, that smile where her whole face lit up like a christmas tree that sent him to new parameters of uncool, and third …

Because he had no idea what her feelings were.

Moreover, he had never given her any reason to fall in love with him, quite the opposite actually, always calling her names, although it was true that she was a violent, flat-chested bookworm. He had a dent in his skull to prove her little fits, a dent made of her beloved books that she would read all day if he didn't force her to take a break sometimes and the brute force she had brought them down to his head with. And for the flat-chest part, who was he to care? His meister had her own brand of gorgeous and it involved tiny breasts, sexy as fuck legs and just a hell lot of Maka.

Yet, despite all that, Soul knew he was being a jerk. For calling her names and – more importantly – for not telling her what he really meant. It was his only defence-mechanism though and he sure as hell wouldn't tell her that, in the deepest pits of his mind, he wanted to do a lot more than the occasional hand-holding that had become a habit for the meister and her weapon, something incredibly stupid like lay his feelings bare for her to finally see, something completely idiotic like give in to the temptation and just kiss her the next time she decided that a half-buttoned shirt (his) and her underwear was enough clothing for the evening.

He was still a jerk.

Not that he could help it, that tiny girl that had wormed her way into his very soul, forever entwining it with hers, simply had too much power over him. Or his heart. Or whatever. It had taken him too long to realize it and now there was already no going back, not that he would willingly erase anything that had happened, his feelings were something he held onto for dear life, even if they were never to be returned.

Even so, the thought of an unrequited love was churning on his insides and was, in fact, very much not cool. Just like getting jealous of all the boys that approached her in the hallways when they thought he wasn't looking. Let him phrase it this way: The day after they tried to talk up his meister, they landed in the hospital with a few serious injuries that they wouldn't dare talk about how they got them. Better for the little fuckers. The overprotective thingy could just pass as cool – if she was his girlfriend, that is.

And exactly that was not the case, even if he very much wanted it to be different.

His daydreams were shattered by the sound of a scalpel swooshing through the air and hitting the wood just beside his head.

"My dear Soul", Stein started, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm sure that you find Latin and Greek very interesting and will find it in your heart to pay attention from now on, wont't you? Otherwise, I think that a Maka-Chop from your partner will be enough a punishment, right, Maka?"

"Yes, Dr. Stein.", said partner answered, shooting him a glare that sent shivers down his spine and had him cower away quickly. The book was already in her hands and he had no wishes whatsoever to find out what that particular novel would feel like being smashed on his head.

"So, Soul. Because you were listening so well, why don't you answer the next question: What is the meaning of the word amor?"

Shit.

"Uh … what was it again?"

Stein smiled and he almost wanted to run out of the room screaming. A sadist smiling could never mean a good thing, not in this life and not in any other life.

"I'll give you a hint: If my hypothesis is correct, you are plagued by it right now."

Plagued by it? What did that – no. Simply no. Stein couldn't imply what he thought he was implying, right? It had to be some kind of mistake, yeah, that had to be it. It probably meant something like test or whatever.

"Well, as you don't look like you can answer the question yourself, I'll help out: Amor means love. That should have been obvious enough."

Shit, shit, shit.

"So, what would the verb to this noun be?"

"Something like … amorare?"

"Wrong. It's amare, you should get that into your non-functioning brain. Or maybe you would like me to take a look at those brain-cells of yours? Dissection-objects are always welcome in my study."

He tried to act cool and not creeped out by the dissection-maniac.

"No, I think I'll pass, prof."

Maka beside him shook her head and sighed. Her partner was a good person, a great weapon and everything you'd want in a friend, but when it came to school, he was hopeless. To think that they were almost graduating and he was still cheating on tests and sleeping during school-hours. Sleeping with his completely relaxed face and the little bit of drool on one corner of his mouth …

And she should clearly get her thoughts to go into the direction of another topic, one that didn't involve lazy weapons with white hair. Because she was – plainly speaking – too attached to her partner than what would be good for her. It also didn't help that he was kind of distracting when he was … well, doing anything and caused her stomach to produce fluttery, fuzzy butterflies in record time when he as much as showed the expression of one of those rare, genuine smiles for her.

So sue her, she was stupid, falling for her weapon was even more stupid and having fallen for him to the point of no return was beyond stupid and something that couldn't be changed even if she wanted it to. Which she didn't, those feelings for him were something that she treasured, even if they weren't to be reciprocated.

Of course, she tried to watch out for any signs indicating possible feelings of him for a girl, but either he had a better wall guarding his emotions than she was aware of or he was simply not interested in anyone. So what if he had been exceptionally nice that time when she came down with a fever? They were partners, they were supposed to watch over each other. Such gestures wouldn't prove anything more than their already strong friendship.

In a rush of courage she had attempted to tell him once, twice, but it somehow always ended with him pissing her off and a book to his skull. If she couldn't get hold of that problem, then – even if she wanted to tell him – he would be receiving more Maka-Chops than he already did. Well, it would be partly his own fault for annoying her in the first place or, which was even worse, pointing out her body's flaws and comparing them to their friends' bodacious curves.

If this went on, she wasn't even sure if she could tell him in the afterlife if something like that existed, which it probably didn't. That did not have any effect on or even solve her current problem though. She had even thought about asking him not to annoy her in any way just for five minutes, so that she would have an opportunity, but knowing Soul he would do so anyway.

But that was a problem for later as she was still sitting in a class that was covering the material for the next test and needed to get her act together and focus. And that she tried. Needless to say that she would need to look up today's grammar at home.

After school they both walked down the hallways when Maka was suddenly stopped by a boy in their grade. She told Soul to go on without her and wait outside, but he wasn't even mere steps away when that dumbass started flirting with his meister. His freaking meister! He definitely wanted to stay and spy on them, but that would be the sort of uncool shit Black Star would pull off if someone dared to get too near to his goddess. So he decided to at least act cool when he was already feeling like an idiot.

Cool as he was, he waited at his bike in his usual slouched position, turning every girl's head but the head of the one girl he had set his eyes on long ago. That girl that came to the motorcycle a few minutes later today because some douche had flirted with her. What a great love-life he had.

"What did that dude want?", he asked her when she arrived at the bike. Doing anything was better than to be rendered useless by that silly halo-like shining of her hair when the sun shone from her back like now. He hadn't intended to sound this annoyed, but no matter how good he was at pokerfaces and feigning ignorance, that all seemed to disappear in front of her.

"Oh, that? He asked me out."

She had replied so nonchalantly that the words took a little to sink in and register in his mind and when it hit him like a tidal wave, he couldn't keep himself from shouting.

"What?! No way!"

"It's true though. So, I guess you were proven wrong, huh?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Sometimes he just couldn't understand her.

"How did that prove me wrong?"

"You were the one that always said nobody would want to date a flat-chested bookworm like me."

What? Wait, wait, wait. What?! He had known he was a jerk, but she could at least forgive him for the crimes he didn't commit anymore, much less had even thought of doing for a long time.

"That was years ago! And that wasn't exactly what I said. What I said was: Who would want to date a flat-chested bookworm like you?"

She frowned, obviously not convinced. "That's a rhetorical question, the outcome's the same."

"It's only a rhetorical question if you want it to be! You could practically reply with anything, but the answer should have been obvious enough!"

She tilted her head a little to the side, contemplating his words, then nodded. "The guy from before wanted to go out with me. Then he's the answer. I don't get what you mean it should have been obvious though."

Of course. The guy from before. Not him, who had been pining for her for longer than that guy even knew her, it was the guy from before she had noticed.

"So, will you date him? He's popular from what I heard."

"I won't."

His heart-rate sped up at the notion. So she had rejected him, huh. He still had a chance. A small one, but a chance nonetheless. But what if …

"Why? You already have someone you like?"

"When exactly did you get so interested in my choice of dates or not-dates?"

She sounded only slightly amused, which he had learned from years of living with her meant that it wasn't all that funny and that he either give up now or be prepared to quite likely meet his end at the hands of a thick book if he said one wrong thing.

"Just … just answer me this: If what I said before wasn't a rhetorical question, who would you want to be the answer?"

"It's whom."

"Wha?"

"Grammatically right would be whom, not who. It's whom do you want to be the answer, strictly speaking."

"Whatever, bookworm, just answer the goddamn question."

This could be a bad idea, this could be the worst idea he had ever had, but he had asked her and all he could do now was wait for her answer. Her answer that would most probably not be to his liking if the way she threw books at him on a daily basis was any indication.

"It's you."

She said it. She actually managed to say it. Now the only thing that was left was hope and pray. And pray she did. She prayed to god, to the dead Shinigami-sama, to Kid, hell, she'd even beg Black Star for help in a prayer if he wasn't so useless in everything concerning romance if Tsubaki wasn't involved. Oh god, she really hoped things wouldn't be too awkward from now on.

Her thoughts of "bad idea, bad idea" slowly stilled down as she saw his face, crimson eyes wide not in shock but complete wonder and awe and – did she see right? - happiness. If she was imagining this, someone punch her please.

"So that was the answer you'd been hoping for all along?"

She gave a small nod, yes it was, and his face split into a mirthful smile.

"Well, whadd'ya know, that's what I was hoping for, too. Seems like you got your perfect answer, huh? So, uh, would you want to go out with me?"

With that, the corners of her own mouth lifted up, too.

"I'd like that."

And after a few more meaningful glances their faces slowly inched closer, nearer, until finally his lips were on hers and despite it being her first kiss and the clumsiness that squished their noses together at first when their mouths melded together, they soon found out how to angle their heads best, her hands tangled in his hair and his resting on her waist, pulling her closer than what seemed possible, lips moving in synch like their souls.

It felt like eternity and yet it hadn't been enough for neither of them, as they pulled apart breathing heavily. But just as she wanted to tug at his shirt for another kiss, a blink of red appeared in her vision and turning her head she saw the absolute least thing she would have wanted to see after Soul had kissed her:

Her father.

He was standing at the foot of the stairs leading to Shibusens great entrance, a shocked shell whose eyes, rotating in a lunatic frenzy and shining with a bloodlust that neither Soul nor Maka had ever encountered outside the battlefield.

Soul felt Maka's nervousness over their wavelength link and sent back a soothing feeling as he entwined his hand with hers. When exactly had they started resonating? He turned his attention back to Spirit who – although his eyes hadn't even lost a single ounce of their bloodlust – seemed to be much calmer now, something he was eternally grateful for. He still wanted to live and he sure as hell wanted to make the kiss from before a normal occurrence.

"Run, octopus head. And don't even think about hurting her or I'll kill you for real."

He shot threatening glares at Soul, immensely intimidating for once, because those eyes were the scariest things he'd ever seen. Still, he didn't kill him and he probably wouldn't either if they'd leave him alone right now and not fuel his anger any more. Soul smirked. "Yeah, as if I'm ever gonna hurt her. I'm better than some certain cheating sleazebags, you know." And with that he backed away, pulling Maka with him to his bike.

Spirit still couldn't move, even when he watched them drive away on that death-trap. He'd break down sobbing after they had gotten around that corner – there! He wouldn't have wanted to worry them after all or at least he wouldn't have wanted to worry his daughter, the octopus head was better off being worried. Although it had taken the brat a great amount of time to get to this point, he was actually surprised because the feelings had already been there years ago.

He decided to go to Stein's later. The mad scientist talked so much about dissected that he'd probably end up distracted. And dissected maybe, but Marie would stop Stein before it came to that. Maybe, just maybe he should call Kami again. He needed to be able to contact her when the octopus-head decided to propose to his little girl someday.

He was infinitely glad that he'd still have another few years before that.